#“I’ll take one final step all you have to do is make me.”

[bunnies-p1tst0p]

Him singing happy birthday to her, even going off to find a cupcake and candle. Ugh! That shit had me genuinely tearing up, like no joke

Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”

Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

- He truly wants to know everything

Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

-Kicking my feet rn

You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”

-Oh gosh Charles. Fr?!

Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”

“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”

“It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

-

THIS THIS THIS

Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.

-EHHHHHHH

“Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

-YUP YUPPPPO

“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”

-Charles..

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

-YUP AS U SHPULD

just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

-YESSSSSS

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

-Sooo glad they could make up! So glad she stood her ground and he finally listened

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

-OMG THEY ALL WERE THERE AND CHEERED HER ON

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

-Bout to cry again.

THIS WAS A MASTERPIECE AS ALWAYS. THANK YOU BEAUTIFUL AUTHOR FOR YOUR BEAUTIFUL WORK!!!!!!!!

Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: you’ve grown used to being overshadowed by your older brother, merely a distant star that seems dull in comparison to the sun of Maranello … and then Max happens

Based on this request

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock of the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. The air still buzzes with excitement from the day’s race, but behind the Ferrari hospitality unit, a different energy permeates the air.

You lean against the cool metal wall, sliding down until you’re sitting on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. Tears stream silently down your face as you struggle to catch your breath between sobs. The sounds of celebration echo in the distance, a stark contrast to your solitude.

Footsteps approach, and you hastily wipe at your eyes, hoping to erase any evidence of your breakdown. A familiar figure rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots you.

“Hey,” Max Verstappen says, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you insist, your voice wavering slightly. “Just ... needed some air.”

Max doesn’t buy it for a second. He crouches down beside you, his blue eyes searching your face. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lip, debating whether to confide in him. After a moment, you sigh. “It’s stupid,” you mumble.

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid,” Max counters. He settles down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Come on, talk to me.”

You take a shaky breath. “It’s my birthday,” you admit quietly.

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today? Why aren’t you celebrating?”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Because everyone forgot,” you explain, fresh tears welling up. “Charles won the race, and ... I’m happy for him, I really am. But it’s like I don’t even exist when he’s around, you know?”

Max nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “That must be really tough,” he says softly.

You nod, sniffling. “I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, but today ... it just hit me harder, I guess. Even my mom forgot.”

“That’s not okay,” Max says firmly. “Your birthday should be special, no matter what else is happening.”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Max insists. He stands up suddenly, determination etched on his face. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can protest, he’s gone, jogging away towards the paddock. You’re left alone again, wondering what he’s up to.

True to his word, Max returns a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs with a grin.

Curious, you comply. There’s a rustling sound, and then Max’s voice rings out, clear and slightly off-key: “Happy birthday to you ...”

Your eyes fly open in surprise. Max stands before you, holding a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in the frosting. His face is illuminated by the flickering flame as he continues to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you!”

Emotion wells up in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. “Max,” you whisper, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He crouches down, carefully balancing the cupcake. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. Now make a wish and blow out your candle.”

You close your eyes, thinking for a moment before leaning forward to extinguish the tiny flame. When you open them again, Max is beaming at you.

“What did you wish for?” He asks, settling back down beside you and offering you the cupcake.

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

Max laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair enough. So, twenty-two, huh? How does it feel to be so old?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help chuckling. “Says the guy who’s practically ancient at twenty-six.”

“Hey!” Max protests, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”

The banter feels natural, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time all day. You take a bite of the cupcake, savoring the sweetness. “This is really good,” you mumble around a mouthful of frosting. “Where did you even find it?”

Max grins mischievously. “I have my sources. Can’t reveal all my secrets, can I?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Max. Really. This ... it means a lot.”

His expression softens. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry the rest of your family forgot. That’s not fair to you.”

You sigh, your momentary happiness fading slightly. “It’s not their fault. Charles had a big win today, and-”

“Stop,” Max interrupts gently. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. Your feelings are valid.”

You blink, surprised by his directness. “I ... I guess I’m just used to it,” you admit. “It’s always been about Charles. Even before he got into F1, he was the golden child. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes ...”

“Sometimes you want to be seen too,” Max finishes for you. You nod, grateful that he understands.

“Exactly. And it’s not just Charles. Arthur’s always been following in his footsteps, and Lorenzo ... well, he’s the oldest. I’m just ... there.”

Max frowns. “That’s not true. You’re your own person, with your own talents and dreams. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to make them feel bad. Especially Charles. He works so hard, and he deserves his success.”

“His success doesn’t diminish your worth,” Max says firmly. “You deserve to be celebrated too.”

Tears prick at your eyes again, but for a different reason this time. “Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that before.”

Max smiles softly. “Well, it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks. “You barely know me,” you point out.

“I know enough,” Max counters. “I know you’re kind enough to put your family’s happiness before your own. I know you’re strong enough to handle being overlooked without becoming bitter. And I know you’ve got a great taste in cupcakes.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

Max grins, clearly pleased to have made you smile. “So, birthday girl, what do you want to do now? The night is young, and I happen to know where they keep the good champagne around here.”

You hesitate, glancing towards the paddock where you can still hear the sounds of celebration. “I don’t know ... I should probably go find my family.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “On your birthday? Come on, live a little. They can wait.”

A spark of rebellion ignites in your chest. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”

Max jumps to his feet, offering you his hand. “That’s the spirit! First stop, champagne. Then, who knows? Maybe we’ll steal a golf cart and go joyriding around the track.”

You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Is that even allowed?”

Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Probably not. But it’s your birthday, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”

As you follow Max towards the paddock, a warmth spreads through your chest that has nothing to do with the lingering summer heat. For the first time in years, you feel seen. Appreciated. Special.

“Hey, Max?” You say, causing him to pause and look back at you.

“Yeah?”

You smile, genuine and bright. “Thank you. For everything.”

Max’s expression softens. “Anytime,” he says softly. “Now come on, birthday girl. Let’s make this a night to remember.”

As you walk side by side into the fading light, you can’t help but feel that this birthday might just be the start of something new. Something exciting. Something uniquely yours.

And for once, you’re not thinking about Charles, or Arthur, or anyone else. You’re just thinking about you, and the possibilities that stretch out before you like an open road.

Happy birthday indeed.

***

The Ferrari hospitality suite thrums with energy, laughter and music spilling out into the warm Italian night. Charles Leclerc stands at the center of it all, a wide grin plastered across his face as he basks in the glow of his hard-fought victory. Champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the scent of celebration.

“To Charles!” Someone shouts, raising a glass. The room erupts in cheers, and Charles feels a swell of pride in his chest.

“Speech! Speech!” The crowd chants, and Charles laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, clearing his throat. “I just want to say thank you to everyone here. This win ... it’s not just mine. It’s ours. The team, the mechanics, the engineers, the strategists ... we did this together.”

More cheers erupt, and Charles feels a hand clap him on the back. He turns to see his teammate grinning broadly.

“Well said, amigo,” Carlos says, slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulders. “You drove like a champion today.”

Charles beams, the praise from his teammate adding to the euphoria of the moment. “Thanks, Carlos. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”

Carlos laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Always happy to provide motivation. Oh, hey, before I forget — can you pass on my birthday wishes to Y/N? I meant to find her earlier, but things got a bit crazy.”

The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His smile freezes, his eyes widening in horror. “W-what?” He stammers, hoping he’s misheard.

Carlos frowns, noticing the sudden change in Charles’ demeanor. “Your sister? It’s her birthday today, right? Her 22nd?”

Charles feels the room spin around him. How could he have forgotten? His little sister’s birthday, on the same day as his big win. The realization crashes over him in waves of guilt and shame.

“Charles?” Carlos prompts, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, mate?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “I ... I forgot,” he whispers, more to himself than to Carlos. “How could I forget?”

Carlos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You didn’t remember?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, panic rising in his chest. “I was so focused on the race, and then the win ... God, I’m such an idiot.”

He scans the room frantically, hoping against hope that he’ll spot you among the partygoers. But of course, you’re not there. Why would you be, when your own family forgot your birthday?

“I need to find her,” Charles says, already moving towards the exit. “I need to apologize.”

Carlos nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder supportively. “Go. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks.”

Charles barely hears him, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd. He bursts out of the hospitality suite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy interior.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the near-empty paddock. But there’s no response.

Panic rising, Charles pulls out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he opens his contacts. He hits your name, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.

Once. Twice. Three times. Then, your voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

Charles swears under his breath, ending the call. He tries again, and again, but each time it goes straight to voicemail.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth. Where could you be? Who would you have gone to when your family let you down?

A thought strikes him, and he quickly dials another number.

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

“Arthur!” Charles practically shouts. “Is Y/N with you?”

There’s a pause, then confusion in Arthur’s tone. “No? Why would she be? Aren’t you guys celebrating?”

Charles feels his heart sink even further. “Arthur, it’s her birthday. We forgot.”

“Shit,” Arthur breathes. “How did we ... God, we’re terrible brothers.”

“I know, I know,” Charles says, the guilt eating away at him. “I’m trying to find her now. Can you call Maman and Lorenzo, see if they’ve heard from her?”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur agrees quickly. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”

Charles ends the call, his mind whirling. Where else could you be? He tries to think back to earlier in the day, wondering if he’d seen you at all after the race. But everything is a blur of champagne and celebration, and he realizes with a sickening jolt that he can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to you.

He’s about to start knocking on motorhome doors when another idea strikes him. Quickly, he opens the Life360 app on his phone. The family had started using it a few years back, mainly to keep track of each other during race weekends.

Charles waits impatiently for the app to load, praying that it will show your location. But when the map finally appears, his heart sinks. Your icon is greyed out, with a message underneath: “Location permissions turned off.”

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, refreshing the app desperately. But the result is the same. You’ve deliberately turned off your location tracking.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You didn’t just disappear — you chose to be unfindable. And it’s all his fault.

Charles slumps against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He puts his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into the night. “I’m so, so sorry.”

As he sits there, memories flood his mind. Your proud smile when he won his first karting race. The way you’d curl up next to him during thunderstorms, seeking comfort. Your unwavering support through every step of his career, even when it meant less attention for you.

And how had he repaid that loyalty? By forgetting the one day that was supposed to be about you.

Charles’ phone buzzes, and he snatches it up eagerly. But it’s just a text from his mother:

Haven’t heard from Y/N. Is everything okay?

He stares at the message, unsure how to respond. How can he explain that he’s lost his little sister on her birthday?

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

Charles takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He has to tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

He creates a group chat with his mom, Lorenzo, and Arthur, his fingers shaking slightly as he types:

We forgot Y/N’s birthday. All of us. She’s not answering her phone and her location is turned off. I can’t find her anywhere.

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

Arthur: I’m on my way to the track now. We’ll find her.

Charles feels a mix of relief and shame. At least now everyone knows, and they can all work together to make things right. But the fact remains that they let you down in the first place.

He’s about to reply when he spots a familiar figure walking across the paddock. Max Verstappen, looking slightly disheveled and ... was that a touch of glitter on his cheek?

Without thinking, Charles jumps to his feet and runs over to his rival.

“Max!” He calls out, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Max turns, surprise evident on his face. Then, something else flickers in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone too quickly for Charles to be sure.

“Why?” Max asks, his tone cooler than usual. “Suddenly remembered she exists?”

The words sting, but Charles knows he deserves them. “Please, Max. I know I messed up. We all did. But I need to find her, to apologize.”

Max studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Relief washes over Charles, quickly followed by confusion. “You’ve seen her? Where is she?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Max says firmly. “She needed space, and after what happened, I don’t blame her.”

Charles feels a flare of frustration. “She’s my sister. I have a right to know where she is.”

“No,” Max counters, his blue eyes flashing. “You had a responsibility to remember her birthday. You didn’t. So now, you don’t get to demand anything.”

The words hit Charles like a slap. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. Max is right, as much as it pains him to admit it.

“Is she ... is she okay?” Charles asks quietly, all fight leaving him.

Max’s expression softens slightly. “She will be. Eventually. But Charles, you really hurt her. All of you did.”

Charles nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know. I just want to make it right.”

“Then give her time,” Max advises. “And when she’s ready to talk, really listen to her. Don’t make excuses. Don’t try to justify it. Just listen.”

Charles nods again, feeling utterly defeated. “Will you ... will you tell her I’m sorry? That we’re all sorry?”

Max hesitates, then nods. “I will. But Charles? You need to do better. She deserves better.”

With that, Max turns and walks away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and regrets.

Charles pulls out his phone again, looking at the group chat with his family. He types out a message, his heart heavy:

Y/N is safe. A friend is looking out for her. We need to give her space, but when she’s ready to talk, we all need to be there. Really be there. We’ve got a lot to make up for.

As he hits send, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll do better. He’ll be the brother you deserve. And somehow, someway, he’ll make this right.

But for now, all he can do is wait, and hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive them all.

***

The city lights twinkle below as Max leads you into his penthouse suite, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is modern and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Milan’s skyline.

“Make yourself at home,” Max says, gesturing around the room. “Are you hungry? I can order some room service if you want.”

You shake your head, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the events of the day. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Max nods, studying your face with concern. “You sure? It’s been a long day.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Max clears his throat. “So, um, you can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

“Oh, no,” you protest immediately. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Absolutely not. It’s your birthday. You get the bed.”

You bite your lip, an idea forming. “We could ... share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. The bed looks plenty big enough.”

Max’s eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable?”

“No, no,” Max says quickly. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

You nod, and another silence falls. Max runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure of himself.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests. “Or we could just talk, if you prefer.”

“Talking sounds nice,” you admit. “I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

Max nods, gesturing towards the bed. “Shall we?”

You both settle onto the massive king-size bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. It’s oddly intimate, and you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“So,” Max begins, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to racing or your family.”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s been so long since someone asked about you, just you.

“Well,” you start hesitantly, “I’m actually studying to become an astrophysicist.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible! Why astrophysics?”

The enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by space, you know? The idea that there’s so much out there we don’t understand ... it’s exciting.”

“That’s amazing,” Max says, genuinely impressed. “What kind of stuff are you studying right now?”

You laugh softly. “Are you sure you want to know? I might bore you with all the technical details.”

Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”

Encouraged by his interest, you begin to explain your current research project. As you talk, your hands move animatedly, your eyes lighting up with passion. Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

“... and that’s why understanding dark matter is so crucial,” you finish, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I kind of went off on a tangent there.”

Max shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s fascinating. I had no idea you were into all this. Why haven’t I heard about it before?”

Your smile falters slightly. “Oh, well ... it doesn’t really come up much. Everyone’s usually more interested in talking about racing.”

Max frowns. “But this is incredible. You’re studying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. That’s way cooler than driving in circles.”

You laugh, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Try telling that to my family. I think they see it as more of a hobby than a career path.”

“What?” Max looks genuinely shocked. “How can they not be incredibly proud? This is huge!”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I guess it’s just not as exciting as F1? It’s okay, though. I’m used to it.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No, it’s not okay. Y/N, you’re brilliant. Your family should be shouting it from the rooftops.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them back hastily. “Thanks, Max. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours. “I mean it. And for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is incredible.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there, an understanding that makes your heart skip a beat. Without really thinking about it, you shift closer to him.

Max seems to take this as an invitation, because he moves closer too. Soon, you’re sitting side by side, your shoulders touching.

“So,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you? Any secret passions outside of racing?”

Max chuckles. “Nothing as impressive as astrophysics, I’m afraid. But I do enjoy sim racing in my spare time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just more racing?”

“Hey, it’s completely different,” Max protests with a grin. “In sim racing, I can drive any car on any track. Even ones that don’t exist in real life.”

“Okay, okay,” you concede, laughing. “Tell me more about it.”

As Max launches into an explanation of his favorite sim racing setups, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and playful debates.

Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“... and that’s why I think pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza,” Max finishes, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a world champion. Your taste buds clearly can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, come on,” Max laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I have tried it,” you insist. “It’s an abomination.”

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Y/N. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

The word ‘friends’ sends an odd pang through your chest. Is that what this is? It feels like more, somehow.

As if reading your thoughts, Max’s expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, that it takes your breath away.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Me too,” you whisper.

There’s a moment of charged silence, and then Max is leaning in. You meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

It’s brief, just a fleeting press of lips, but it sends sparks shooting through your entire body. When you pull back, Max is looking at you with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

“Was that okay?” He asks, his voice husky.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more assured. Max’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admits.

You laugh softly. “Even when I was insulting your pizza preferences?”

“Especially then,” Max grins. “You’re cute when you’re indignant.”

You swat at his arm playfully, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. For the first time all day, you feel truly happy.

As the night wears on, you and Max continue to talk, trading stories and stealing kisses. Gradually, your positions shift again. Max lies down, and you curl up against his side, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close.

“Y/N?” Max says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“Hmm?” you mumble, feeling drowsy and content.

“Happy birthday,” he says. “I know it didn’t start out great, but I hope it got better.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “It did,” you assure him. “Thanks to you.”

Max kisses your forehead gently. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We can figure everything else out in the morning.”

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Max’s arms, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it might just be the start of something wonderful.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. For a moment, confusion sets in before the events of the previous night come rushing back.

You’re in Max Verstappen’s bed. And Max Verstappen is currently spooning you.

A smile tugs at your lips as you nestle back into his warmth, not quite ready to face the day. But fate, it seems, has other plans.

A sharp knock at the door jolts both of you awake. Max groans, burying his face in your hair.

“Room service?” You mumble, still half-asleep.

Max shakes his head, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t order any.”

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, Max untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.

“I’ll get it,” he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You stay here.”

You nod, pulling the covers up to your chin and watching as Max pads to the door in his t-shirt and sweatpants. He opens it a crack, peering out.

“Can I help you?” He asks, confusion evident in his tone.

There’s a muffled response, and then Max is stepping back, opening the door wider. A hotel staff member enters, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.

“Delivery for Y/N Leclerc,” the staff member announces, looking around the room.

You sit up in bed, eyes wide. “That’s ... that’s me.”

The staff member nods, moving to set the bouquet on a nearby table. “Sign here, please,” he says, holding out a clipboard.

Still bewildered, you climb out of bed and make your way over, scrawling your signature on the form. The staff member thanks you and exits, leaving you and Max staring at the ostentatious display of flowers.

“Well,” Max says after a moment, “I guess your brother remembered after all.”

You let out a rueful laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I guess he did.”

Max frowns, noting the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “Aren’t you happy about it?”

You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”

“Oh,” Max says softly, understanding dawning on his face. “So it’s less about you and more about what he thinks you should like.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Exactly. It’s like he doesn’t really listen, you know? He just does what he thinks is right without considering what I actually want.”

Max moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. “That must be frustrating,” he says gently.

You lean into him, grateful for the support. “It is. And I know I should be grateful. It’s a beautiful bouquet, and he’s trying. But ...”

“But it’s not what you want,” Max finishes for you. “And that matters.”

You look up at him, surprised by how well he understands. “Yeah, exactly.”

Max turns to face you fully, his blue eyes serious. “Y/N, listen to me. It’s okay to be upset about this. It’s okay to want your family to actually listen to you and consider your feelings.”

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill over. “But they’re trying now. Shouldn’t I just forgive them and move on?”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

“Really,” Max assures you. “They hurt you, Y/N. They forgot your birthday and made you feel invisible. One bouquet of flowers — flowers you don’t even like — doesn’t erase that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words. “So what do I do?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Well, what do you want to do? How do you feel?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not ready to see them yet. I know I’ll have to face them eventually, but right now ... I just can’t.”

“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his words. “You don’t think that’s selfish?”

Max cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. “It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

Tears spill over then, and Max pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest, letting out all the hurt and frustration you’ve been holding in.

“Shh,” Max soothes, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

After a few minutes, your sobs subside. You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I got your shirt all wet.”

Max chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll survive. Feel better?”

You nod, offering him a watery smile. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Max says softly. Then, a mischievous glint enters his eye. “So, what should we do with the roses? I vote we throw them off the balcony and watch them scatter in the wind.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think hotel management would appreciate it.”

Max shrugs, grinning. “Their loss. We could always donate them to a hospital or something. Brighten someone else’s day.”

“That’s ... actually a really good idea,” you say, impressed. “We could do that.”

Max beams, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I’m not just a pretty face and fast driver.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but can’t suppress your smile. “Careful, Verstappen. Your ego’s showing.”

“You love it,” he teases, pulling you close again.

As you stand there in his arms, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses you don’t even like, you’re struck by how safe you feel. How understood.

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For everything. For making my birthday special, for listening to me, for ... just being here.”

Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Then, slowly, Max leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your toes curl.

When you break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“So,” he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is all happening so fast, and with everything going on with my family ...”

Max nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow,” he assures you. “There’s no rush.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I do want this — us. I just need some time to figure everything out.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Max says, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “For now, how about we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”

You laugh, grateful for the shift in mood. “Breakfast sounds perfect. But maybe we should change first? I’m not sure I want to face the paparazzi in yesterday’s clothes.”

Max grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t know, I think you look pretty good in my t-shirt.”

You glance down, realizing for the first time that you’re indeed wearing one of Max’s shirts. A blush creeps up your cheeks. “When did that happen?”

“You got cold in the middle of the night,” Max explains, looking far too pleased with himself. “I offered you my shirt. You were very insistent that it was the most comfortable thing you’d ever worn.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god. Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing.”

Max laughs, gently prying your hands away from your face. “Nothing too bad. Though you did mention something about my waist being ‘unfairly perfect’. Your words, not mine.”

“Kill me now,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Max pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never. I’m rather fond of you, embarrassing sleep talk and all.”

As you stand there in Max’s arms, the morning sun warming your skin and the scent of roses filling the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. Yes, there’s still a lot to figure out — with your family, with Max, with your future. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And that, you think, is the best birthday gift of all.

***

The private terminal of Milan Malpensa Airport buzzes with activity as the Leclerc family waits to board their chartered jet. Charles paces back and forth, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds.

“Charles, honey, please sit down,” his mother, Pascale, says gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair for what must be the hundredth time. “I can’t, Maman. Where is she? She should be here by now.”

Lorenzo exchanges a worried glance with Arthur. “Maybe she got held up in traffic?” He suggests, though his tone lacks conviction.

“For three hours?” Charles snaps, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “Sorry, I just ... I’m worried.”

Arthur stands up, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We all are. But Y/N’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”

Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. But after yesterday ... we really messed up.”

“We did,” Pascale agrees softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we’ll make it right. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she ever shows up,” Charles mutters, resuming his pacing.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Charles alternates between checking his phone and staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of you arriving. But the parking lot remains stubbornly devoid of your presence.

Finally, a staff member approaches the family. “Mr. Leclerc? The jet is ready for boarding. We need to depart soon to maintain our flight slot.”

Charles feels panic rising in his chest. “No, we can’t leave yet. My sister isn’t here.”

The staff member looks uncomfortable. “I understand, sir, but we have a schedule to keep. Perhaps your sister could take a commercial flight?”

“Absolutely not,” Charles says firmly. “We’re not leaving without her.”

Lorenzo steps in, ever the diplomat. “Is there any way we could delay for just a bit longer? It’s really important that we wait for our sister.”

The staff member hesitates, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do. But please understand, we can’t hold the slot indefinitely.”

As the employee walks away, Charles resumes his pacing with renewed vigor.

“This isn’t like her,” he mutters. “She wouldn’t just disappear without telling us.”

Arthur bites his lip, looking guilty. “Maybe ... maybe she’s still upset about yesterday?”

Charles stops in his tracks, turning to face his younger brother. “What do you mean?”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably. “Well, we did forget her birthday. And then when we remembered, we didn’t exactly handle it well. Those roses you sent? Y/N hates roses.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She ... what? No, she loves roses. I always get her roses.”

“Because you always get her roses,” Lorenzo chimes in, realization dawning on his face. “Not because she actually likes them.”

Charles slumps into a nearby chair, head in his hands. “How did I not know that? What kind of brother am I?”

Pascale moves to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes. But we can fix this. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she’ll even talk to us,” Charles mumbles.

Just then, his phone buzzes. Charles nearly drops it in his haste to check the notification, hope flaring in his chest. But it’s not from you.

“It’s Max,” he says, frowning in confusion.

“Verstappen?” Arthur asks, leaning over to peek at the screen. “What does he want?”

Charles opens the message, his eyes widening as he reads it aloud:

“Y/N is with me. She’s safe and we’re flying back to Monaco together. She needs some space right now. Give her time.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Charles reads and rereads the message, trying to process what it means.

“She’s with Max?” Lorenzo finally says, breaking the silence. “Since when are they even friends?”

Charles shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t know. I ... I saw him last night. He knew where she was, but I thought it was just a spontaneous thing.”

“Well, at least we know she’s safe,” Pascale says, always trying to find the silver lining. “That’s the most important thing.”

But Charles can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in his stomach. “Why didn’t she come to us? Why Max, of all people?”

Arthur places a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

The words hit Charles like a physical blow. He knows Arthur is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“So what do we do now?” Lorenzo asks, looking around at his family.

Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. “We do what Max said. We give her time.”

“But for how long?” Pascale asks, worry evident in her voice. “She’s our little girl. We can’t just leave her alone.”

“She’s not alone, Maman,” Charles says, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “She’s with Max. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think ... I think she might be better off with him right now.”

The family falls silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their collective mistake hangs heavy in the air.

Finally, Charles stands up, squaring his shoulders. “We should board the jet. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

As they gather their belongings and make their way to the plane, Charles can’t help but replay Max’s message in his head. You’re with Max. You’re safe. You need space.

He tries to imagine you and Max together, and finds that he can’t. What could have happened in the span of one day to bring you two together? And more importantly, what had driven you away from your own family?

As he settles into his seat on the jet, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll give you the space you need, but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way to make things right, to be the brother you deserve.

The jet takes off, carrying the Leclerc family back to Monaco. But for Charles, it feels like they’re leaving a piece of themselves behind in Milan. A piece that, he fears, might be harder to reclaim than he ever imagined.

Meanwhile, across the airport, you and Max are boarding his private jet. The contrast between the two scenes couldn’t be more stark.

“You okay?” Max asks softly as you settle into your seat.

You nod, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for ... well, everything.”

Max reaches over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. You know that.”

As the jet prepares for takeoff, you can’t help but think about your family. Are they worried? Angry? Do they even care?

“Max?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

You turn to look at him, vulnerability shining in your eyes. “Did I do the right thing? Leaving without talking to them?”

Max considers your question carefully before answering. “I think you did what you needed to do for yourself. And that’s never wrong.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “For understanding. For not pushing me to do what everyone else thinks I should do.”

Max smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes your heart flutter. “That’s what ... friends are for, right?”

There’s a hesitation in his voice, a question in his eyes that makes you wonder if ‘friends’ is really the right word for what’s developing between you.

As the jet takes off, carrying you away from Milan and the chaos of the past day, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for a future where you’re seen, heard, and valued for who you are.

And as you glance at Max, his profile illuminated by the setting sun streaming through the window, you can’t help but wonder if he might be a bigger part of that future than you ever imagined.

The jet climbs higher, leaving the ground and all its complications behind. For now, at least, you’re free. Free to breathe, to think, to feel without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath. Whatever comes next, you know one thing for certain: things will never be the same again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

***

The sun is setting over Monaco, shining warmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse apartment. You’re curled up on the plush sofa, a book in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the pages. But your mind keeps wandering, replaying the events of the past couple of days.

Max emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You smile gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma of hot chocolate. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, settling down beside you. “I wanted to. How’re you holding up?”

You’re about to answer when the doorbell rings. Max frowns, glancing at his watch. “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?”

You shake your head, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. Could it be your family? Are they here to confront you?

Max squeezes your hand reassuringly before getting up to answer the door. You hear muffled voices, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Um, Y/N?” Max calls. “I think you might want to see this.”

Curiosity overcoming your apprehension, you make your way to the foyer. Your jaw drops at the sight that greets you.

The entire space is filled with bags. Not just any bags, but the kind that comes from the most exclusive boutiques in Monaco. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel — the logos stare back at you from every direction.

“What ... what is all this?” You stammer, looking to Max for explanation.

He hands you a small envelope. “This came with it. It’s addressed to you.”

With trembling fingers, you open the envelope and unfold the note inside. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Y/N,

I know I messed up. We all did. I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday and for not being the brother you deserve. I hope these gifts can begin to make up for it. Please come home. We miss you.

Love,

Charles

You read the note twice, then a third time, disbelief turning to anger with each pass.

“He’s got to be kidding,” you mutter, crumpling the paper in your fist.

Max steps closer, concern etched on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “This,” you say, gesturing at the sea of designer bags, “is my brother’s idea of an apology. He thinks he can just ... buy me back with expensive gifts.”

Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “Ah. And I’m guessing that’s not going to work?”

“Not even close,” you say, shaking your head. “God, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not one of his girlfriends who can be placated with a shopping spree.”

Max winces. “Ouch. Has he done this before?”

You nod, sinking down onto the nearest clear spot on the floor. “Every time he messes up with a girl, it’s the same routine. Flowers, jewelry, designer clothes. And it usually works, because the girls he dates ... well, they tend to be into that kind of thing.”

Max sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “But you’re not.”

“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”

Max is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, it’s okay to be angry about this. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

His words break something open inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. “I just ... I thought he knew me better than this. I thought they all did.”

Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You lean into him, letting the tears fall freely now.

“It’s like they don’t even see me,” you choke out between sobs. “They see this idea of who they think I should be, but not ... not who I actually am.”

Max rubs soothing circles on your back, letting you cry it out. When your sobs finally subside, he hands you a tissue.

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “A little. Sorry for breaking down on you like that.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”

You offer him a watery smile, then turn back to survey the mountain of bags. “So ... what do I do with all this?”

Max considers for a moment. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Honestly? I want to send it all back. Show him that he can’t just throw money at the problem and expect it to go away.”

Max nods approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea. It sends a clear message.”

“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” You ask, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“Not at all,” Max assures you. “You’re standing up for yourself, setting boundaries. That’s important.”

Emboldened by his support, you start rifling through the bags, curiosity getting the better of you. “I wonder what he even bought ... oh.”

You pull out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate tennis bracelet. The diamonds catch the light, sparkling brilliantly.

“Wow,” Max breathes, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s ... that’s something.”

You nod, mesmerized by the way the bracelet shimmers. “It’s beautiful,” you admit softly.

Max watches you carefully. “You like it,” he observes.

You sigh, closing the box with a snap. “It doesn’t matter. It’s going back with everything else.”

“Why?” Max asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. “If you like it, why not keep it?”

You look at him, surprised. “But ... I thought you said sending it all back was a good idea?”

Max shrugs. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep one thing if it genuinely makes you happy. You’re allowed to like nice things, Y/N. That doesn’t invalidate your feelings about the situation.”

You turn the box over in your hands, considering. “I don’t know ... wouldn’t keeping anything send the wrong message?”

“I think,” Max says slowly, “that the message you send depends more on what you say than what you keep or don’t keep. If you like the bracelet, keep it. But make sure Charles understands that a pretty piece of jewelry doesn’t fix the underlying issues.”

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”

As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.

“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”

Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”

You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”

“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”

You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”

As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.

You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.

And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

***

The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.

He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.

A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.

You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.

Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.

“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.

Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.

Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”

You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”

“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”

You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”

Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.

A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.

An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.

“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”

Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”

Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”

The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”

Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”

“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”

Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”

“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”

Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”

“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”

Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”

As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.

“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”

You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”

“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”

You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”

You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”

“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”

A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”

Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”

You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”

Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”

Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”

As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”

You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”

As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.

Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.

He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.

It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.

***

The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.

Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.

Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”

On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”

“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”

Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”

Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”

Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”

Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”

“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”

The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.

And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.

“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.

Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”

The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.

Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.

Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”

Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.

Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.

“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”

“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.

As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.

“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”

You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”

“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”

Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”

Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”

As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”

“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”

Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”

“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”

“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”

As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”

Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.

“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”

Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”

Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.

You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.

Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”

Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.

You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”

As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.

The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

[planetpedri]

Pau with a girlfriend who has a condition who makes her faint a lot? I feel like he’d be so attentive and caring

I can and I will — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Having extremely low blood pressure was the norm for you, but ever since you started dating Pau, he’d taken it more seriously than you had. And you loved him for it.

Word count: 700+

Disclaimer/s: Mentions of fainting , low blood pressure , accidents that’s happened from the condition , ect.

A/N: I didn’t want to write about something I couldn’t capture accurately buttt I used to have very low blood pressure and would faint because of it so I just went with this …

Pau was very… attentive. He noticed the slightest wobble in your step, the way your eyes seemed to go dull, or when you’d heat up. He’d taken every precaution to assure you wouldn’t faint. He worried a lot, and you hated to make him stress so much.

It was a particularly hot summer day, so the two of you decided it was best to stay inside. Pau had set his bedroom in the specific way you liked, almost like a cocoon of pillows and blankets. You’d planned on binge watching the new season of your favorite show, but you’d forgotten one simple thing.

“Shit.” You grumble, turning to your boyfriend. “I need to go get water.”

Pau nods in understanding, concern flashing across his face. “You sure you wanna go get it? I don’t mind—“

“Pau, babe.” You groan, “i’m fine. Sit back, chill out.”

Sometimes his protectiveness agitated you. It made you feel like you couldn’t do anything, despite knowing he didn’t mean to make you feel that way. You knew your words may have hurt him, so you compensate by placing a quick and tender kiss to his lips.

Sliding your legs over the side of the bed, you stand. Too quick. Your vision zooms in and out, spotting all around. Great. You were too slow to sit back down, your knees giving out beneath you.

Before you could fall, you feel Pau’s arms wrap around your torso, successfully stopping your tumble. “I told you I should’ve..” He trails off with a grumble, pushing the hair from your face as you collect your breathing.

“Don’t rub it in.” You grumble, the nauseating feeling pooling in your stomach as you allow yourself to slump into his arms.

“Lay down, i’ll go get you water and some crackers.” Pau frowns, planting a kiss to your forehead. He did that a lot, you’d noticed it was his way of checking your temperature without being obvious. “And some ibuprofen.”

Weakly climbing back into your cocoon, you toss the fuzzy blanket aside to let your body cool down. Your eyes remain closed even when you hear Pau’s heavy footsteps coming closer.

“Sit up.” He urges quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed with a glass of ice water and medicine in his hands, and crackers tucked under his arm.

You do as told, rubbing your temples. “What would I do without you?”

“Hit your head on a sharp object? Oh wait, you actually have already done that before.” He quips, the corner of his lip twitching, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Ha ha.” You mumble, taking the water and pills gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Always.” He says, giving you a genuine, but short smile. Every time you fainted or came close to it, he felt his heart stop. Sometimes, he felt like he could faint from concern.

Once you take the pills and drink your water, you get comfortable again with Pau climbing onto the bed beside you. He pulls you half way onto his chest, pressing play on the TV.

While you munch away and regain your strength, Pau’s fingers play with your hair, tucking strands behind your ear and repeating the soothing motion. When you finally feel better, you glance up at him.

“I love you, y’know that, right?”

Pau tilts his head down to meet your gaze, a smile forming. “Of course I do. I love you, too.”

Your lips form a tight lipped, almost shameful, smile, “I feel bad, you shouldn’t have to baby me. I should’ve thought about this stuff before we got into bed.”

“Hey,” his eyebrows furrow, “you don’t always have to do things on your own. I’m your boyfriend, I love you, and If I can help, I will. Always.”

You couldn’t control yourself. You loved this boy more than anything in the world. Setting your half eaten bag of crackers aside, you roll on top of him, placing kisses all across his face. All the while, you murmur dozens of ‘I love you’s’.

Pau chuckles through your burst of affection, putting a stop to it only so his hands could cup your cheeks. He pulls your face to his lips, greeting yours in a long, warm kiss.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any pau related posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @unx100to !

[frehyun]

Mistletoe

non-idol!Felix x gn!Reader

warnings: none!

genre: fluff

word count: around 700

author's note: it's november but the first christmas markets are gonna go up at the end of the month in my country and it's already affecting me. hope you enjoy this, it's just a quick silly one! <3

masterlist

divider by @firefly-graphics

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. The way the lights reflected off his eyes, making them sparkle and glitter in the dark. His freckles like little galaxies dancing around on his cheeks, painted a cute soft red by the cold. Surrounded by countless flickering lights and beautiful decorations, your focus was always drawn to the prettiest thing around you: your boyfriend Felix.

His smile was infectious as he sipped on his hot chocolate, yapping away about something where you realised you tapped out of the conversation a while ago, mesmerised by how beautiful he looked even while doing the mundanest things like sitting at the corner of a Christmas market with you.

“-and I already have an idea of what to get Seungmin for Christmas.”

“It can’t be worse than whatever Minho has planned to torment everyone with, so I think you’re safe. You’re a great gift giver, Lixie” – you told him, hoping that it wasn’t too obvious you didn’t catch half of his sentence.

You leaned more into his side, trying your best to initiate some form of physical contact. With you and Felix both bundled up in several layers, both sporting thick gloves and fitting beanies, it was as good as impossible to get any skinship while you were out and about, so this would have to do.

“You think they have a mistletoe somewhere around here?” – he suddenly quips, looking around the plaza.

“Are you that eager to kiss me in public?” – you giggle and take his gloved hand awkwardly into yours, intertwining your fingers to the best of your ability.

“So what if I am?” – he playfully pouts in return and squeezes your hand.

You bumped your shoulder into his and moved to get up from the little bench the two of you were situated on.

Realising that you were going to indulge his request, Felix beamed up at you, smiling that bright teethy smile of his that almost triggered your cuteness aggression into overdrive.

Hand in hand the two of you wandered around the plaza before finally spotting a stand that had a mistletoe hanging from a wooden beam. With a hop in your step, Felix and you skipped towards the little wooden hut full of giggles, excitement bubbling up in your chests.

It was silly to get this excited over a simple mistletoe kiss but with Felix by your side, even the smallest things seemed to spark unbridled joy in your heart, which was thumping happily in anticipation.

As you stood on either side of the mistletoe, grinning from ear to ear, his arms found their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His soft lips found yours in an instant, kissing you like it was the last kiss he was going to get in a while.

Little fireworks exploded in your chest as they always do when you get to kiss your sunshine and you smile against his lips before the two of you parted, your forehead leaned against his.

“People are staring” – you giggled and poked his side, which in turn made him giggle and twist his body away from your attack.

“They’re just jealous.”

“Jealous of me, maybe.”

“Hey! Do you want me to start listing all the things I love about you again?”

“And have me cry in the middle of a Christmas market?”

“You know I’ll do it. So! First thing-“

“Alright! I get it! You can stop!” – you hastily placed your hand over his mouth before he could make you cry of happiness and love for real, laughing over his competitiveness at who loves the other more.

It was getting awkward with all the people looking in your direction, so you decided to call it a day and trudge home.

Soft, joyful days like these were always a blessing with Felix and made you wonder what you did in your previous life to deserve him. He could always manage to make you laugh, smiling brighter than all the Christmas lights combined.

You were sure that as long as you had him, you never needed another Christmas present again if it meant you could spend your days with him.

[iichfilwypj]

heroes | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: :) ღ wc: 692 pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

The days that followed were awkward. The trip back to camp was awkward. They didn’t look at each other, didn’t speak. They couldn’t be in the same room for more than two minutes without her wanting to escape.

And it was entirely her fault.

She stepped into her cabin, wanting to fall into bed and sleep until the next day. Or, better yet, the day after –perhaps then she'd recover the naps she hadn’t been able to take. 

But, to her surprise, she wasn’t alone. 

There he was, lying on her bed. She could see he was in his pajamas, his hair messy and breathing so slowly it almost felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. He seemed so at ease, so peaceful, so much like before.

She could only snap.

Tears welled up before she could hold them back, flowing faster and stronger than ever. Each drop hit the floor like a moment they might have shared, a word they could have said. 

Her sobs must have roused the boy, who sat up in bed, a sleepy expression on his face as he stared at her. Her vision was too blurry and weak to see him clearly, but he appeared to be just as heartbroken as she was. 

“I- I am so sorry” Her words were shaky and barely coherent, but the boy understood them perfectly. He was sorry too. 

She wanted a hug, sweet words, for him to wipe her tears away. Percy stayed where he was, trying to give her space. 

"I fucked up everything. I was afraid when I realized how much I love you, and how much I need you, and I didn’t know what to do." The tears kept flowing as she uttered the only words she didn’t want to say. “We can't be together, Percy”

He was furious, frustrated, mad. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to push her away or pull her into his arms, whether he wanted to never speak to her again or kiss every inch of her body. 

And though he wished things could go back to when she was just his best friend, the one sleeping beside him all day and unaware of his (and her own) feelings, he knew he had to give it another try.

“Why not?” he dared to say, without taking her eyes off her trembling figure. "What makes you think that?"

“I’ll be mean, and you’ll get tired of me” No. Percy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Getting tired of her? 

Without her, something was missing, something was off. 

He made his way toward her carefully, checking if she was okay with it. His hands traced her face, and he smiled without thinking as he felt her skin after so long. 

“You know that is not true. None of that bullshit it's true" She shook her head, and he nodded. She pouted, and he smiled. “We love each other, and that's a fact.”

“Nothing would keep us together” she knew he understood; the others, their stupid opinions, her own insecurities…

But was she being honest with herself? Was she really unwilling to give everything she had to spend the rest of her days with him?

“I don’t believe that. We can try”

He didn't release her face as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“We could steal time.” 

A kiss on her cheek.

“Just for one day.” 

A kiss on her other cheek.

“Please.”

Their noses brushed together, their breaths merged, and their bodies inched closer without even trying.

Their lips were so, so near. 

And she nodded. Because she depended on him, she adored him, she hungered for him. She ached for him. Her body yearned and craved for his company, his hugs, his kisses, his touch. 

She wanted him. 

Without a second thought, their lips met in a soft, warm kiss. His hands pulled her closer as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world around them seemed to freeze, granting them more time, more peace. 

And the kiss became desperate, raw, and yet somehow full of sweetness.

Every part of them connecting, as if they were finally where they belonged.

heroes >>>>> any other song IT FINALLY HAPPENED AAA I COULND' STAND WIRITING MORE ANGST maybe it's rushed because i NEEDED them to kiss but i don't care

[joocomics]

ಬ different kind of normal

pairing: idol!taehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut — mdni! wc: 1.7k

contains: situationship, reunion sex, sub!reader, slight hint of dumbification, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, reader is emotional and cries during sex, not a happy ending (?)

a/n: this has been sitting in the drafts since august and it’s finally seeing the light of day. cannot believe such angsty smut is happening on joocomics, tbh i don’t think i’ll be writing anything similar anytime soon phew it was tricky and i realised that i need my happy endings. but i wanted to try smth new, i really hope you enjoy it </3 sometimes you just need a kim taehyun to numb your emotions

You go down the familiar stairs and walk into the bar. It’s loud, lit by the usual dim yellow-ish lights, the scent of alcohol and skin is covering every corner, wrapping around your silhouette.

Your eyes observe the place to search for him and it doesn’t take long to find him - he’s sitting on your usual spot which is distanced from every other table; it feels intimate and secluded.

None of the people who visit this bar know who he is, nor do they know you, and sitting on this specific table every time you see each other only enhances the feeling you get in these moments - like you and him are the only people existing in this place and time.

“Taehyun,” you greet him at once.

You haven’t said his name out loud in so long. You’re not allowed to talk about him to anyone; not that you want to anyway, you want to keep him to yourself though it feels nice to be able to roll it off your tongue again. It feels freeing, especially in his presence.

Maybe he missed hearing his name in your voice, because his eyes smile at the sound before he even turns to face you. The letters ring nicely, like his name is something he can feel caressing his skin when you’re the one saying it.

“You’re here.” He automatically leans forward after you sit down next to him; the usual gravitational force that always pulls you together is another thing he was anticipating to experience again.

His one arm goes over your shoulders and the sudden warmth enveloping you makes your knees weak. The truth is, they were already weak from the steps you had to take to reach your table, but now they feel like they’re about to melt.

Being so close to him months later feels like it’s your first date all over again. You hate it and love it all at the same time.

“I just ordered your favorite,” he says and you can hear the slight note of pride in his smooth voice.

His hair is covered from a black cap which he eventually takes off before running a hand through his hair; it grabs your attention with a new color that you haven’t seen him with in person before.

You point out the obvious fact about how he still remembers your order as you take a minute to observe the attractive features that make up the face you learned to love.

“Of course I do,” he simply replies, leaning in for a kiss.

The first kiss after three and a half months. It feels so exciting and electrifying, just like the very first one you had a year ago, but at the same time it feels familiar too - like you’re reminiscing on a comforting memory you haven’t looked back on for a while.

His hand slides up your thigh, then travels up your hip only to sneak in discreetly beneath your shirt, sending you pleasant shockwaves. Soon enough he breaks the kiss though, careful not to bring any unnecessary attention on you.

“Next month I’m gonna have a week off.” Taehyun speaks up after a moment of silence between the two of you. After a sip of his beer, he continues: “I was thinking that you can come visit me if you want.”

Yes… Yes. You do. You want to scream it out loud. But the only thing you do is breathe in, staring inside the cup of your cocktail; trying to force yourself to speak before your mind turns blank.

“You don’t need to worry about money,” he adds as he shifts his gaze to you, hopeful and anticipating of your response. “It’s all on me, baby.”

There it is - the reminder you needed before giving any answers. His money, his fame. His life that’s so unfitting to yours. The pink balloon you found yourself in for a moment as he shared about his plan, tempting you to naively build dreams about your one week together, it pops, and brings you back to the harsh reality.

“Tae…” You shake head, “no matter what we do or tell each other we can’t be normal.”

Taehyun’s brows furrow at your choice of word.

Normal.

“This has to end at some point, I don’t think we should complicate things any further… as we’ve already said before.” You exhale deeply after blurting out the things you’ve been practicing on your way here. He didn’t hear the sound that escaped your lips because of the music mixed with the chatter, but if he did, he’d have known that saying all of this cost you an immense amount of energy.

You don’t glance at him even once, but Taehyun on the other hand can’t stop staring at you like he’s in some sort of a bad dream that’ll end soon if he’s patient enough.

“Right, right…” He nods, finally able to force his eyes somewhere else. He peers down at his hands on the table that begin to tap nervously at the wooden surface, sharing almost the same rhythm as his heartbeat. “You’re right, that’s the wisest thing to do.”

You know it is, but hearing him agree turns out to be more painful than you expect.

For the best, this has to end soon, you remind yourself. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow.

“I missed you,” Taehyun rises your body temperature through raspy whispers and open mouthed kisses which he scatters onto your skin almost in a rush; as if you’re going to disappear from his hands if he dares to slow down. “Missed you so fuckin’ much...”

His soft lips trace a path from your neck down to your cleavage and soon enough he’s even lower, running his tongue against your stomach before kissing that area sensually too. The slight moisture slipping from the corners of his mouth in addition to the delicate sucks makes you shudder as he simultaneously tugs on your underwear.

“Missed this sweet pussy too,” he invites his fingers into your walls effortlessly. His gaze focuses upon your lips and how they open for a silent gasp as he glides through with ease because of your already collected arousal. “Did she miss me?”

While anticipating an answer, Taehyun swirls his tongue inside his mouth before letting a string of saliva fall right onto your clit; he smears it all over your folds, provoking your thighs to open even wider for him.

“Tae—“ You arch spine, emphasising your need for something more than this lingering rush that’s growing in a pace that’s not quite enough for how much you ache for his touch right now. “Please…”

“I think she did.” A lustful spark shimmers in his eyes as his hand maintains its delicate motions. The movements make you moan every time his fingertips reach your sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping back down again. “Say it.”

At once he meets your eyes as his frame eventually hovers over your naked flushed body.

Your hands relax on his broad shoulders as your focus fixates on his face. Hopefully there’s not as much pain into your eyes as there is in your heart in this moment. You don’t want him to know how much exactly you’re actually hurting.

“I missed you every day,” you whisper softly as your noses touch; your mouths search for each other, thirsty for the other’s taste even more now. When you feel his hand guiding his cock to your entrance your breathing catches, but you still manage to repeat it. “Of course, I missed you.”

The second he hears your words, Taehyun crashes his lips against your mouth. Because he cannot bare hearing this one more time or because he enjoys the sound of it too much - he’s not able to tell.

As he leads the kiss swiftly your legs wrap loosely around his hips and your warm walls immediately squeeze onto him as he quickens the pace, eager to make up for all the time you were away from each other.

“Fuck—“ He grunts at the growing pleasure that he reminisced about night after night before breathing out against your neck: “Finally… I swear to god nobody else can make me feel this way.”

His voice, husky and domineering despite his on going confessions, echoes in your fuzzy mind. Although you shouldn’t, you put in all the effort you can into memorising each word he says; you hold onto it tightly as the continuous thrusts gradually turn more rigid and sharp causing your nails to sink into his shoulder blades. However, as amazing the buzzing sweet wave inside you feels, you cannot suppress the sadness that’s about to overpower you first.

You swallow another failed attempt to fight back the bitter emotion, but you can feel it lingering everywhere - in your heart, inside your stomach, on your tongue once he slows down his hips to grip your face, and inside your throat that feels like it’s closing up.

“Why are you crying?”

Taehyun peers into your eyes that are sparkling at him with a bittersweet emotion which he hasn’t gotten used to seeing inside them. His gaze lowers to your puffy lips, trembling as they separate with hesitation.

“I… I don’t know what’s gotten to me, sorry,” your arms wrap tighter to pull him closer. His thumb caressing your wet cheek only makes it worse for you. “Please, k-keep going.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispers under his breath as he fulfills your wish by resuming his thrusts - more forcefully though to distract you from the sorrow, “I’ll make it go away now, okay? Focus on me, baby.”

You grasp his shoulders while the delight starts to numb your mind with each intense push of his cock. The hits against your sweet spot are fast and strong enough to weaken your memory right away.

“There you go,” Taehyun’s pants blend with your whimpers ringing beneath him as the tears on your skin begin to dry. “Such pretty eyes, look at me, love.”

Something about seeing you cry for the first time made his heart clench, and now his mind fogs up, leaving him with only one goal - to make you cum as many times as possible so you can’t think of anything for the rest of the night.

Right now, he’d erase every single thought from your brain if he knows he’s capable of doing so.

The moment he feels you’re tightening up Taehyun’s eyes open so he doesn’t miss out on one flinch of yours.

“Yeah, I’m here, baby,” he murmus, trying to keep moving forward while your peak lasts, causing you to quiver beneath his frame. “Let go, baby, I’m right here.”

Yes, he’s here, and tomorrow morning he’s still going to be here, but you’ll be gone, because this time if he tries to stop you like all the previous times, you’re not going to look back.

But for now, you and Taehyun are close as you’ve never been before.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[starlightkun]

sugarcoated brain [teaser]

⏯ teaser word count: 723 | full fic: 13.7k ⏯ genre: punk band frontman!shotaro, venue manager!reader, shotaro is whipped, reader is emotionally unavailable, is it a slowish burn or is it angst?, whatever it is ur reading a starlightkun fic so there’s a happy ending :), ft. eunseok/sungchan/wonbin as shotaro’s bandmates welcome back boys & wayv as reader’s coworkers ⏯ warnings: not necessarily a warning but since i do generally avoid describing the reader’s appearance in my fics, i wanted to give a heads up—reader works at a punk/alternative concert venue and is generally in/around that scene. reader is mentioned and/or implied to have some tattoos and piercings (other than earlobes) ⏯ extra info: set in the same universe as filler episodes, but u don’t need to read that in order to understand this one, filler eps!sungchan and sugarcoated!shotaro r just in the same band! also the title is from a 5sos song lol ⏯ estimated release: saturday, november 16, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

“Is that sanitary?” Eunseok’s voice announced Roses for Eyes’ arrival that particular afternoon, as you sat atop the bar counter, scrolling on your phone in one of your few moments of peace and quiet around Venue:Hell.

“Kiss my ass, Eunseok,” you replied without even looking up.

“Yeah, I’ll get in line,” he retorted, making Sungchan and Wonbin laugh.

That finally prompted you to slide your gaze up, just in time to see the three of them laughing over by the stage as Shotaro flipped them all off over his shoulder, making his way towards you. He had two cups in one hand, one with a bright green straw in it, and the other without a straw, and you saw that the other three band members each had a plastic cup with a straw sticking out of them as well. You silently watched Shotaro approach, raising an eyebrow at him once he’d stopped in front of you.

“We were getting boba on our way here, and thought we’d grab you one, too.” His cheeks were a bright pink as he held the unopened cup out to you, and fished a packaged purple straw out from the front pocket of his black jean jacket.

“Who’s this ‘we’ that you’re talking about?” You asked humorously. “They all apparently think getting me boba is kissing my ass.”

Shotaro straightened up, puffing his chest out. “Actually, yeah. Fuck ‘em. I got you one because I thought it’d be nice to get you one too since you do so much for us every week. It’s uh-It’s honey milk tea, because I didn’t know what flavor you liked.”

“Thank you, Shotaro.” You accepted the cup and straw from him graciously, to a chorus of snickers from the spectators on the other side of the floor. “Honey milk tea is more than acceptable.”

“But it’s not your favorite?”

“I don’t have a favorite.” You set the cup on the bartop beside you to stab the straw into it.

“You—Hey, are those mine?” He seemed to have finally noticed the sunglasses perched atop your head.

“What? These?” You teased, tapping the plastic accessory arm on one side of your head.

“I was looking for those today!”

You took them off, offering them out towards him. “You left them here last week.”

Shotaro took the glasses just to turn them right back around, take a step closer to you, and place them back on your head, a fond smile on his face as he did so. “I think you look better in them, actually. You can hold onto them for a little longer.”

You swallowed, your chest suddenly feeling too tight for your heart, and six eyes suddenly feeling like way too many to be in the room with you two right now. You chuckled, trying to keep up the congenial tone as you once more pulled them off. This time, you folded the arms and tucked the sunglasses into Shotaro’s jacket pocket for him. “Thanks, Shotaro, but I can’t take your sunglasses. They’re really rockstar sunglasses anyway, not for someone like me.”

At that moment, you grabbed your boba tea and hopped off the bar, scooting out from between him and the counter. You avoided looking at the others, beelining for the back office.

When Shotaro had to come get his in-ears from you just a few minutes later, you gave him the same pleasant smile as usual, handing him the case. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He tapped the case against his palm, the sound dampened by the fingerless gloves he was wearing that day. “What did you mean? When you said someone like you.”

“Wh—About the sunglasses?” You’d hardly expected him to confront you about that comment at all, much less alone now, just you and him in the office, no peanut gallery. While six eyes had felt like too many, this felt far too intimate. You somehow felt more exposed than before. “Like I said—They’re cool rockstar sunglasses, that’s what you are. You should wear them you know, up on stage, being all cool and stuff. I’m crew; no point in me wearing them while I’m sitting back here where nobody can see them.”

He frowned, but thankfully didn’t try to give them to you again. “I think you’re cool, Y/N.”

With that, he left the office.

⤷ masterlist

[haveihitanerve]

not a completed fic but... also not a fic i think i will ever complete so.. have this?

Alfred… had never grown fond of her. Not in the way Bruce and Duke and Damian and even Dick had. Not in the way Cass and Tim had.

Alfred had put Tim in the mask, draped the cape around his shoulders, begged him to take up the mantle and save Bruce. But he hadn’t done that for Steph. He had never liked Steph.

She hadn’t known to what extent, until she had forgotten to lock up her utility belt one night. She could’ve come back in the morning, but Bruce would’ve noticed, and she didn’t want to give him another reason why she wasn’t worthy as Robin. She was certain Tim had never forgotten to lock up his belt at the end of the day.

But Bruce had been in the cave when she had snuck down the stairs, and despite her skill, the skill he had now taught her, he always knew she was there. Maybe it was something he taught all his- the kids. All the robins. A way to hide from everyone but him.

So she had waited, crouched beside the door, her legs growing numb as she waited for him to finish and leave. That was when Alfred had come.

“Master Bruce. Your dinner is cold.”

“I’ll be there in a second Alf.” Bruce returned, fingers flying across the keys.

“She ate an hour ago.” Alfred threw out, emphasis on the she. Emphasis on not using her name. Stephanie’s fingers dug into her thighs. Bruce’s fingers stilled.

“Do you have something to say, Alfred?” He asked. Steph could hear the control in his voice, the measured tone he was using. The tone he used with her when she did something wrong and he wanted her to discover for herself what it was and how to do it better.

He was just like that, wanting her to learn on her own, to not rely on him, to not hear his reprimand but rather his pride when she figured it out. Alfred was quiet.

“She is not Tim.” Bruce said, his voice gentler.

“I know.” Alfred returned. “And that is the problem.” Steph bit her lip as her fingernails drew blood. Tears stained her eyes and she blinked them back.

“What would you have me do?” Bruce asked, and his voice was measured again, though Steph could hear him getting angry. “Kick her out? Return her to the street? Let her run around Gotham alone?”

“He is!” Alfred yelled back. Bruce’s control snapped and he stood, turning to his butler.

“Tim made his choice.” He hissed. “And as much as I want him back he is not coming back. That is not my fault, no more than it is hers.” He snarled. Steph almost gasped. Bruce was… defending her. She blinked the tears back again.

“Stephanie is not to blame for Tim leaving. I need a Robin.” Bruce said quietly, voice firm and hard. “And she stepped up. Not unlike Jason. Not unlike Tim. I cannot make you love her, I cannot make you like her. But you will give her the respect she is due.”

In all her work with Bruce, Stephanie did not think she had ever once heard him actually give Alfred an order. Alfred nodded stiffly, and turned, stalking back up the stairs.

Bruce slumped back into his chair. Steph hardly dared to breathe, but his eyes found her anyway. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. Bruce looked at her tiredly.

“For what?” His voice was soft. Quiet.

“For not being him. For not being good enough.”

“Oh Steph,” Bruce sighed, standing, and grabbed her utility belt, locking it up in her locker. “I never wanted you to be Tim.”  He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her hair, before following his butler up the stairs.

Steph remained there, crouched in the corner, and finally let the tears fall.

[34saveme34]

Single Wrong Step Away from It - a short smg34 fic

3 has a nightmare but not in the way you'd think. He feels awful about it either way.

Words, about 2.2k I think?

---

He walked down a dark corridor, knowing the sight that would greet him. This had been right underneath the crew’s nose and they were none the wiser. It was an all too familiar man with a television for head, looking at monitors. The room was as dark as his desires. And sinister as their plans, fake as the friendships made along the way, except this one.

“I’m so glad you saw my way, SMG3”

“Well, I oughta” 3 chuckled.

“Especially for the amazing amount of intel you could give me! With the information I possess about SMG4, all because of you, we should be able to take over his channel in no time!”

“And this time, for good, I hope at least”

“You got me this time and I assure you I know how to plan things right”

They shared a chuckle.

“I can almost imagine the face SMG4 will make when he realises that our friendship was anything but real!”

“Oh, you’re truly sinister, SMG3! If I knew earlier we could’ve worked together way way earlier”

“What matters is we’re doing this together now!”

They set out finally, together. They had a foolproof plan. SMG3 knew that SMG4 blindly trusted him at this point, and had him wrapped around his finger. The best possible prey. And 3 was getting ready to pounce.

They were walking in a forest together. Nothing but the sounds of the night with them.

“Hey, 4” 3 called out to 4. The fact that he was called 4 caught him off guard a bit, considering that 3 doesn’t use it for him a lot. It made him smile.

“Yea?”

“I was just thinking…” 3 started, a sort of anxiety making it hard to speak for him. Or at least that was what 4 believed.

“Yeah? I’ll listen, dude”

“I’ve just… I’ve known you for so many years… And you know… we have a lot of great memories together”

“Aaaand?” 4 asked with a smile he couldn’t rub off his face.

“I’ve just you know… realised that maybe… there could be more to it” 3 played being flustered perfectly.

“More to it how?” 4 wasn’t giving it so easy.

“Oh, you’re gonna try and make me say it? Dummy” 3 chuckled.

“Well, would be great if you did… but I think you should know my answer” 4 grabbed 3’s hand.

They both laughed.

“Well… I guess I could say that there’s feelings for you in me that are not hatred or just friends… but something more”

4 giggled.

“Something more you say?”

“I’m not giving you any more hints”

“Don’t think I need anymore” 4 cupped 3’s cheeks.

“Go on then”

4 leaned in, finally giving 3 a kiss. It took one decade and while sweet and lowkey, it felt so earned, so…. So perfect. Such a powerful thing.

“I just wanna say one thing though” 3 said after 4 pulled away.

“Anything” 4 was so lovestruck.

“You should’ve been more careful” 3 smirked, but it wasn’t a nice smirk, it was sinister and  it confused and also scared 4.

“What do you mea-” but he couldn’t utter another word, being clapped together between the palms of an all too familiar TV head man. 3 heard the man’s dark laughter. First there was SMG4. Now there wasn’t. Just in a quick swoop, he was no more.

“Genius!” Puzzles applauded 3 “What a perfect setup to get the perfect rating! I approve of your dedication”

“Only the best from the best” 3 chuckled.

“Now to move on to the rest of them..”

~~~

3 woke up. The events in his mind slowly set in. He felt his chest sink. It didn’t actually happen. He wasn’t even the one being betrayed but somehow this felt worse. So much worse. He got out of bed, going to the bathroom to wash of his dream sins. He wished he never even thought about this. He wished he didn’t have such a stupid fear that would haunt him from time to time.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

“Am I truly good?” he asked himself, inspecting himself. Looking at everything wrong about him. There was a lot. He wondered what would happen if he suddenly ended up going that way… Fame was always something that could sway him. He looked deep in the mirror, deep in his eyes, the red in his eyes. He felt confused by it the deeper he looked. Wondering if there was something in him that could break out and he could ruin everything. Lose everything. Make years of friendship look like a joke. He shed a tear. He kept the rest back. He had an urge to cry but it was hard to get out. He wiped his eyes. 

He went back to bed and laid down, trying to sleep again. But all that would haunt him was 4 in his dream, looking so confused, not even given the right to process that he was betrayed by him. The look of horror on him that he swore he saw for half a second. It was scary.

He turned and turned, everything felt uncomfortable, along with his thoughts. He felt hot yet cold, his blanket felt strange and uncomfortable, his pillow was anything but welcoming and his bed felt like a trap to put him in a cycle. He sighed as he sat up.

He went up and made himself a nice, warm glass of milk. With a bit of sugar too. While warming it up, still all he could think about was the idea that he was really wasting his time and he could lose everything any moment. That he could easily snap back and ruin everything. 

The beeping of the microwave snapped him out of it.

He took it and sat by one of the table, sipping away at it quietly. He looked outside to at least somewhat distract himself. It looked so peaceful outside. After finishing his milk, which he really only made because that would sometimes make him feel better, he instead went outside. Midnight air just hits different…..And it did then as well. It felt refreshing, comfortable in a way. 3 could take in a big breath. Although in the end it wasn’t enough but at least he wasn’t suffocating on his thoughts helplessly.

He looked at the castle, knowing exactly where 4’s room was located. Knowing the layout of the room like the back of his hand, knowing, as he looked there where his bed would be located.

He shook his head. No, he couldn’t bother him then, that’d be so selfish.

“Besides, what would I say to him?” 3 thought out loud “Ooooh, SMG4, can you comfort me? I had a nightmare! I sound so stupid right now”

Just after he said that, he saw 4’s face pop up in his window. He froze. Did… Did 4 hear him? Oh god…

He saw 4 gesture him to come in. 3 sighed, he wasn’t escaping this now. He went around, not wanting to crawl through the window so he went through the main entrance then to his room’s door. 4 was already standing in the doorway, waiting with his arms crossed.

“So?” 4 asked as 3 stopped in front of him, not saying a word.

“C’mon dude” 4 asked again “I heard something was bothering you”

“Why are you even awake, it’s like 2 AM”

“Video grind. Regardless, I think you’re awake for worse reasons… Something about a nightmare? That I could, saying it with your words, comfort you about?” 4 said the last part with a small grin, obviously teasing 3.

3 slapped him.

“Shut up”

“Oww!”

“Serves you good”

“I’ll shut up if I can listen to you”

3 stared at 4 unamused before sighing the biggest of sighs known to men, feeling a bit flustered alongside it.

“I just had a stupid dream where I betrayed you with the help of Mr Puzzles and I’m scared it could happen in real life, are you happy? That’s what’s keeping me up”

4 looked at him concerned. 3 felt awful.

“I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have told you”

“No… No, it’s okay” 4 mustered a smile “It makes me happy when you’re more open with me”

3 chuckled.

“Rare occurrence, right?” 

“Yeah with how much of a tsundere you are”

“I’m NOT! Got it?? I’m anything but that”

4’s smile fell.

“Sure sure… I’ll believe you.”

“I thought you would freak out more”

“Huh? Why would I?”

“At the thought that I had a dream of betraying you”

“3… did you enjoy betraying me?”

3 thought back to the dream, the whole kiss part flustered him a bit.

“3?”

“Uh- Of course not! Why would I? I may be a villain but I’m not… not…” 

“You’re not what?”

“Not… abandoning you. Not after everything”

4 looked at 3.

“Wow, is that still you, SMG3? I never knew you could be so direct… or that you felt that way about me” 4 teased 3.

3 was almost about to tell him off again, but he stopped himself. He calmed himself down with a deep breath. He firmly but with love grabbed 4’s shoulders.

“Are you trying to make fun of the fact that I care about you this much? I never cared so much about anyone. And I’m scared, I’m really scared I could… hurt you again. Do you know how scary it is, feeling the looming possibility of me backstabbing you?” 3 teared up “It’s so scary. I don’t wanna lose you”

4 didn’t know how to respond. He felt a bit flustered by such an admission of care for him. He knew 3 cared about him but all these words coming out of him directly just put a sort of feeling in him that made it just a little harder to stand and a little harder to think.

“3…I know you wouldn’t…”

“But- but what if I have a weird change of heart? And become what I used to be? What if I go and kill you on purpose? Like I’ve wanted to in the past?”

3’s tears wouldn’t stop.

“I- Listen, 3… I get that you have quite the history but um…” 4 took a deep breath. It was his time to be honest. 

“You… honestly amaze me, 3. For all that you’ve gone through I’m… proud of you? In a way… Yes, you tried to kill me and I’m not happy that happened… I’m not happy about so much you’ve done but… to me, you’ve made up for it… If… if you changing isn’t real then- then is anything real?”

“Eheh, you’re exaggerating…”

“No, dude, I’m serious! At this point- At this point I can’t imagine a world you would betray me in… besides… Mr Psychiatrist degree, isn’t this dream of yours kind of OCD adjacent?”

“Well-” 3 thought for a bit “Hate how you’re making sense there…”

“If you… hate it so much, it just shows how much it’s not what you REALLY want… I’d trust that the last thing you’d ever want to do is hurt me”

3 looked down. He had to take a bit to take the words in. 

“3…?” 4 was concerned with the silence but he didn’t need to be concerned for long as he was pulled into a tight hug. 3 buried his face in 4’s neck, still crying a bit so he soaked 4’s shirt, not that he cared. 4 might have but he didn’t that’s for sure. 4 returned the hug, rubbing 3’s back. It wasn’t always the easiest with 3 but these kind of moments were the ones making it all worth it for 4. He would live through so many murder attempts if it meant he could get more of this kind of 3, a 3 that could be so honest. A 3 that could care so much, so much that he could tear the universe apart. He loved it. Especially because he felt similarly. Sometimes he would remember old times and wonder how they couldn’t have been friends earlier but then realising that what they have now… It’s perfect. He would never even think to wish for anything else.

And they didn’t pull away for a long while, it felt like a waste to do so. A question appeared in 3’s mind that wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Say… 4… mind if I… spend the night here…? It’s cool if you don’t want me to- It is… kind of weird for me to ask to anyways”

4 pulled out of the hug.

“I was actually thinking the same thing. Although I don’t have another bed prepared” 

Silence inserted itself between them as they were both looking at each other awkwardly.

“I knew you were gay” 3 said, quoting the legendary video.

“Alright, that’s it, you’re coming to bed with me”

“Ooooh nooooo, what will I ever doooo” 3 said sarcastically.

“Oh, you know. Sleep” 

As they both laid down it felt a bit too real. Sure, they first softened the tension of the idea with jokes but that didn’t mean it would be easy after.

3 looked at the ceiling then at 4. Then at his hand. Although this all felt weird and he didn’t like being so direct- he grabbed 4’s hand, firmly at that. 4 looked at him. They stared into each other’s eyes a bit before 4 smiled.

“I’m glad to have you in my life, 3”

“Ahem, I’m actually more glad to have YOU in MINE” 3 got competitive about it. They both laughed about it then finally fell asleep.

[theorist-fox]

ok just hear me out….im like obsessed with quick sand, like obsessed in a way where I think I will encounter it somewhere and literally be sucked in until my death. But like imagine in the same au of the un-evil series ghost having to help reader out but they are all angsty and probably got in a fight before hand and now she’s waist deep and panicking and he has to calm her down to actually help her out. Idk I’m petrified of quick sand 🤷‍♀️

They’ve probably argued, I’ll give you that. There isn’t a moment when they’re not snapping at each other. Ghost keeps things tightly sealed, and Sergeant has long since given up on prying him open—meaning there's a severe lack of communication.

I’m no expert on the physics of quicksand (my one and only exposure to it was The NeverEnding Story), but since this is fan fiction, we’re not exactly bound by realism, are we?

In the un-evil AU, I imagine Ghost is particularly skilled at compartmentalizing. He often does this by separating Simon Riley from Lieutenant Riley/Ghost. If he and the Sergeant have argued before heading into the field, whatever tension they had is set aside until they’re back in a safe zone.

If Sergeant were to get stuck in quicksand right in front of him, he’d be the calmest person within miles. He wouldn't coo nor keel over for her—he'd bark orders as her superior until he's sure she's listening. And, oddly enough, she’d understand and follow through, falling in line.

There’d be no coddling or comforting words. Once she’s out of danger, he’d simply ask, “You alrigh’?”

If she nods, he’d be already walking ahead, muttering something along the lines of “Watch where you step” and “Be more aware of your surroundings—you're in the special forces for fuck's sake."

It’s only afterwards, when they're stripped of ranks and uniforms, that he’d finally fold under the weight of what has almost happened. Ghost would take the lead, fuck her raw until she’s too far gone to notice that his whispered words aren’t mindless mumbles but desperate pleas—pleas for her to never do that again, because if she ever went somewhere he couldn’t follow, he’d make sure to find a way.

[brooklyncircus]

"Until you..." part. 6.

Hiromi Higuruma x reader.

Until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma had never been so present in something as mundane as a 'simple' walk alongside someone. But the reality was, in his eyes, you weren't 'someone' among the crowd, like one might say 'a star in the vast dark sky.' No.

You were different, and he felt it.

You were... special.

The previous feeling, that latent anxiety about accidentally making you feel uncomfortable, was replaced by a peace and calm he hadn’t felt in a long time.

'All of this is funny,' he thought, walking beside you as you both left the train station. The sun was already high, its rays filtering through the clouds as if they were trying to lend a little more clarity to his thoughts and emotions. 'I’m nervous but, at the same time, I feel at ease.'

It was as though his heart was going to burst, yet he felt anaesthetised.

He didn’t realise he was smiling until she, curious and tilting her head, pointed it out with a smile that mirrored his own. 'You’re smiling...'

'Am I?' he said, surprised. He tried to suppress it, but it didn’t work. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair as the two of you continued walking in a comfortable silence. 'It’s because the sun’s come out,' he lied quickly.

Hiromi would never admit that he was smiling because of you. Or because he was thinking of you.

At least, not yet.

She looked up, just as the sun’s rays lit up her beautiful face and hair. It seemed deliberate, he thought, but at the same time, he wasn’t overly affected. It was as if the sun made her even prettier than she already was, and he didn’t chide himself for thinking it...

Not yet.

Because yes, he could appreciate when someone, be it a man or woman, was attractive. And he knew it. Oh, he knew and admitted it.

In his eyes, you were very pretty.

He swallowed and looked ahead, putting a hand in his pocket as he kept walking. 'Is it very difficult… the exam you have at university?' he suddenly found himself asking.

'Mhm... yes. It’s midterms, then I’ll have finals, and I suppose that, finally, I’ll be graduating,' she replied in a tone that quickly revealed her mix of anxiety, pride, and exhaustion.

Hiromi looked at her with curiosity, raising an eyebrow. He estimated that they’d reach the library in just a few more blocks, but, strangely, he didn’t want to say goodbye.

Not when he was having a moment with you.

Yet, he was grateful to have had the chance to see you, to share at least a little while with you.

'That’s... impressive. I’m sure you’ll do well,' he said, more confident than he’d ever been, looking at you.

You laughed. 'That’s if the year and the exams don’t finish me off first.'

Hiromi wrinkled his nose. 'You seem like a clever and capable person. If you work hard and study, I’m sure you’ll do well.'

He noticed that after he said those words, your expression softened, and his heart began to beat a bit faster. But he noticed no doubt, only the simple sense of truth in his words. There was no lie in what he’d said to you.

'To be honest, I’m nervous,' you looked ahead, and he noticed the slight frown on your face from the small v-shaped line between your brows.

He followed your gaze, taking in the large building now just a few metres away. It was the library. Both of you began to slow your pace bit by bit, as though, unconsciously, neither of you wanted the moment to end.

'Oh, no...' Hiromi thought, feeling something strange in his chest. It was like a heavy weight, or a sadness settling there. He tried to push it aside, but couldn’t.

When they arrived, he took three steps towards the entrance but stopped when he realised you had lagged behind. The silence was a bit tense, charged with unspoken things. He turned around and looked at you with pressed lips and a concerned expression.

But in an attempt to keep you at ease and to soothe his own discomfort, he decided to make a small joke. 'Don’t worry, the books won’t bite, you know?'

Your expression shifted, a slight ironic smile tugging at your lips. 'Uh-huh. Sure.' Hiromi watched you walk towards him—or rather, towards the large wooden doors of the library. After three steps, you turned back to look at him one last time. 'Thank you so much for walking me here.'

He stayed in that spot, the strange feeling in his chest lingering. He sighed, shrugged a bit, looking aside to indicate it hadn’t been any trouble at all. His bag swung slightly as he replied, 'It was my pleasure.' A small pause. 'Good luck with your studying.'

You smiled softly, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear, while you continued looking at him with the same curious, lively gaze as on the first day. 'Thank you. And I hope you have a good day at work.'

Hiromi gave a small nod and turned away, deciding that he’d done enough for today and that it was the right thing to leave. Because yes, it was right to go, but not wanting to go was another matter. Another problem. Another... something.

He swallowed and felt uneasy, vulnerable. With every step he took away from you, the weight in his chest didn’t lessen.

And everyone knew that if he’d found out you’d stayed, watching him disappear into the crowd with an expression mirroring his own... Hiromi wouldn’t have been able to leave.

Oh, no. He wouldn’t have been able to.

And until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma had never been so present in something as mundane as a 'simple' walk alongside someone. But the reality was, in his eyes, you weren’t 'someone' among the crowd, like one might say 'a star in the vast dark sky.' No.

You were different, and he felt it.

You were... special.

[romancecroc]

Lucanis (This is a bad idea, pt. 1)

Hello, hello. I felt like re-writing some of the Lucanis romance scenes (I treat them more like one-shots). Here's the "this is a bad idea" scene:

Rook had the tendency to just flirt with everyone. Whatever was happening, whoever it was. Some might call it confidence. But honestly, it was rather the very solid belief that nothing was going to happen anyway. So why not have some harmless fun?

Maybe it was because she never considered herself sexy. The word felt weird. She’d been called funny! Humorous. Witty!

But sexy? Not really. Every time somebody made a move on her, the nerves took over. Forget matching the alluring energy - all that came out of her mouth was a joke. And a nervous giggle after.

Which is why she was currently freaking out. Just a little bit.

“Nothing I’m seeing makes me want to look away” just flew out of her mouth. Lucanis had just expressed shame regarding the second Spite incident.

She didn’t realise she was expressing her thoughts out loud. They somehow got out. Her crush was supposed to remain hidden - and now it sounded terribly obvious. Almost like a confession. 

But that wasn’t the problem.

She said all kinds of things all the time.

The problem was the reaction.

Lucanis didn’t laugh it off. He didn’t roll his eyes about how silly that comment was.

He was looking right at Rook. Something… shifting in his eyes. 

And that really freaked her out.

“How do you do it?” Lucanis said, breaking the temporary silence with a low voice. 

“Do what?” Rook responded, almost coughing between her words. She leaned against the pantry wall, trying to shrug it off. 

Whatever she was seeing must just be her imagination. There’s no way.

“Break apart my perfectly gathered clouds of doom.”

Any attempts of disbelief started to crumble.

She looked at him wide-eyed. If it wasn’t obvious then, it was now.

Oh shit, she thought. Is this actually happening? 

“You deserve better than to deal with my mess.” he finished, holding Rook’s gaze.

A million responses were brewing in Rook’s head. All the wrong kind, of course.

I’m a professional janitor. I’ll go out of business without a mess!

I’m cleaning up the blight. Surely I can clean you up as well!

But for once, she could hold them back. Aware that they could sound insincere. After all, he was being honest with her.

But her silence was interpreted as a rejection. Lucanis lowered his eyes to the floor, slowly taking a step back.

“You’re more-” Rook finally blurted out, taking a step forward to maintain their previous distance. She instinctively grabbed his arm to make sure he didn’t step away any further. Her face was warming up too.

Now his eyes were widening.

“You’re more than what you’re going through. And I think you wear it well! Incredibly, if I’m honest. You’re amazing after all.”

There was a pause.

Rook finally realized she was still holding on to his arm. Within seconds she let go of it and glued herself against the pantry wall again. Almost like looking for shelter to hide her embarrassment. And her blushing face.

Speaking from the heart? Being sincere? It felt like her entire body was being pulled apart from both sides. She still couldn’t believe all the things she’d said out loud.

“Anyways, I’ll leave you be and-” Rook said, calming herself and closing her eyes. She could walk out like this. As long as she didn’t maintain eye contact, she wouldn’t have to witness his response.

But then she could hear steps. Walking towards her.

She slowly opened her eyes and by the time she could fully comprehend the scene, Lucanis was standing in front of Rook. Slowly leaning against the wall himself, towering over her.

He was so close, she could feel his breath against her skin.

“Rook… You like to walk a little close to the edge.”

The way he spoke her name almost sounded like a growl. He also made sure to maintain eye contact.

Somehow whatever thoughts he had were very visibly expressed through his eyes.

“So do you.” Rook responded, slowly gaining the courage to gently tap against his vest.

“You know this is a bad idea…” he whispered, slowly leaning in closer. 

“Sometimes a bad idea is better?” she chuckled quietly, mirroring his movement. Her hand resting on his cheek. Inching closer.

And then a flash of purple gleamed through his eyes. Any closeness broken apart by Lucanis stumbling backwards, grunting while holding his head in pain.

“Lucanis!” 

Rook rushed in to keep him from collapsing. After a few seconds of head shaking, the purple faded away - his eyes turning back to normal. 

“I… need to clear my head.” Lucanis muttered in a self-defeating tone, grabbing his gear from a cabinet.

There was an awkwardness hanging in the air. But Rook figured Lucanis had more pressing matters on his plate.

Whatever… this was, it could wait. Or maybe it was just a temporary moment?

“Rook.” Lucanis said, interrupting Rook’s train of thoughts.

Before she could respond, he had reached for her hand. Raised it. And then gave it a gentle kiss.

“Thank you again for checking in on me.” he said with a warm smile, bowing slightly and then headed out.

She stood there for a few minutes. Until she finally regained control of her legs, walking back to her room as if in automated mode. Barely containing the smile on her face.

[splendidissimus]

2009 - Dementor

((Content warning: suicidal thoughts))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 19: I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me. / Psychological ))

Genre: angst

Romance level: some

Angst level: 4/5

Draco's headspace: despair

((words: ~1300))

------------------------------------

He was going to die. 

The thought didn't even really come with fear. It wasn't a surprise, after all. That thought had been taking up space at the core of his mind since he was sixteen. He was going to die. 

The thought just settled over his mind like a blanket, like a thick snowfall, obscuring the meaningless details, muffling the noise and pettiness he used to distract himself day-to-day, and leaving horrible clarity. This all was completely pointless. 

Why was he even fighting it? Was he really that eager to get to the next time he woke up in Saint Mungo's, having lost weeks of his life to madness? The next stroke that took away his ability to relate to the world, the next heart spell that robbed more of his physical strength? 

…The next time he was held captive and tortured? The next unending dream of Voldemort? The next death threat, the next time his hands were bound for days, the next dark room alone he couldn't escape? The next Cruciatus curse…?

Why…? Why even try?

His life since he was sixteen had been an endless struggle — endless torture — not just for him but everyone around him. He saw that now. Over and over again, he hurt people, with his words, his actions, his selfishness, his neediness. He just took, and took, and took. He made his mother cry, his father drink, and Theo… he had completely ruined Theo. It would be a relief for all of them when he set them free from him. 

He wasn't doing any good to anyone… He was almost thirty years old; he was already out of time. If he were going to accomplish anything, he should already have done it, and now it was too late. He wasn't ever going to accomplish anything, just flail and suffer and disappear… and doom his family to disappear… 

A rough hand on the back of his collar yanked him, and he stumbled backward, and realised he was standing at the edge of the 'roller coaster' track, looking down at the ground far below, foot already lifted over the empty space. He felt nothing for it. And he was cold, so cold, hands trembling from a cold his heated robes couldn't dispel because it was deep in his core. Theo had pulled him back from the edge, face a mask of fear, and maybe the cold wasn't just inside Draco because he could see Theo's breath. 

He couldn't stop himself from whispering, "I'm sorry…"

Someone was sobbing, and then there was a shriek, and a commotion below; one of the carnival workers burst into the tent, yelling "It's free!" and then switching between broken English and another language. The few workers down below scattered, leaving the group of inspectors and Draco's client atop the attraction to their own devices.

The entire tent seemed to darken. A looming grey figure in a hooded robe glided into the tent, and that explained everything, but it changed nothing. The Dementor's faceless hood turned toward the stranded group and it glided toward the track, ignoring the few people left on the ground. 

The Dementor's hood looked like death. Like oblivion. Like nonexistence. 

"Expecto Patronum!" It was Granger, and a glowing otter bounded down the tracks to defend them. In a second more, Theo and another of the Ministry folks also cast the spell, and a peacock and an ox both charged down to the Dementor. 

The Dementor was driven back relatively easily, for a Dementor, and the ox-Patronus caster hurried off after it while one of the other Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures representatives immediately Disapparated to go fetch the Dementor Control Unit, and Granger turned on the carnival's master and Draco with more indignation than good sense. "You were keeping a Dementor? That is so irresponsible! You could have gotten people killed — worse than killed!" 

"I didn't know," Draco said distantly. Theo's Patronus came back and circled protectively around them, tail trailing away into wispy nothingness. it was beautiful. It made Draco immensely sad. "I hope you understand I won't be representing you now," he said blankly to Grompkin, reached back to remove Theo's hand from his collar, and stepped back — over the space — to Disapparate. 

Theo caught up to him almost at the door of the house, after he had already walked the long walk up the lane from the edge of the Apparition wards around the manor. 

"Draco…"

"I'm fine." 

"No, you're not. You're walking, you should be floating, you're going to wear yourself out. You're not looking at—"

"I'm fine," he said flatly. 

"That's always a lie!" Just inside the main hall, Theo got ahead of him and stopped him, holding both sides of his face. "Please, just stop." 

Draco reached up to take Theo's hand from his face, and squeezed it lightly. "You're the one who's not okay," he said. "Tolly, bring Theo some chocolate." 

"Of course I'm not okay! I just almost had to watch you kill yourself!" Draco looked away, and Theo gripped his hand tightly. "I'm really scared." 

"Master Theo sir," Tolly squeaked from their knees, and held up two bars of chocolate with the labels written in French. 

"Good." He shoved one of those into Draco's hand. "Eat that." 

Like he was forgetting Draco was the one who had called for it in the first place. "There's no reason for you to be frightened." 

Draco noticed his mother in the doorway to the drawing room, and of course their voices were carrying. "Mother, you need more hobbies than sitting around waiting for me to say something for you to worry over." 

She raised her eyebrows. "Believe it or not, I have. But I would like an explanation for what I just heard." 

"It wasn't intentional," Draco said distantly. "It was the Dementor."

"Where did you encounter a Dementor?"

"A client." Theo settled his hands on Draco's shoulders and rubbed them compulsively. "A carnival from the continent engaged Draco to liaise with a Ministry inspection, last-minute — we didn't have time to vet the client. Stupid. Apparently they were keeping a bloody Dementor in their menagerie, and they'd been detained in port so long that it started starving without the crowds to feed on, so when the lot of us showed up…" He gripped Draco's shoulders tightly. "He tried walking off a ledge." 

"I wasn't aware of what I was doing. I don't want to die," he assured them. "You don't have to worry about that. Now finish your chocolate and let me be." 

"Draco, I'm not going to—"

Draco took out his potion bag, unshrunk it while Theo was speaking, and retrieved a Calming Draught that he pushed into Theo's hands as he extracted himself. "I am not a danger to myself. I am not going to do something erratic. But I cannot deal with your fear right now. Let me be." 

"Draco—"

"Theodore," his mother interrupted, and nodded to Draco. "We'll speak in the morning." 

Draco nodded back and stonily climbed the staircase; he turned like he was going to his room, but instead he cast a Disillusionment charm on himself and took the servant stairs at the far end of the wing up to the second floor, for actual privacy. Where there was no sense of being monitored or watched or scrutinised or even noticed. Shedding the weight of all their attention so that he could breathe, and feel.

He sat behind the drapes in the round window of the central landing, looking out over the isolated back of the property toward the hills. Sitting silent and unknown over everyone's head, he felt like a ghost, and it was weirdly reassuring, in a way he knew he shouldn't indulge. The same way he shouldn't be indulging in the Disillusionment charm, an old comfort habit that fed into that feeling. It was a feeling of not really existing, and he knew he mustn't let himself feel the appeal.

[planetpedri]

Hi! Would it be possible to request fluff with Cole Palmer, like a lazy morning in bed when he doesn't have training and then getting up to make breakfast together? I love your work sm

Mornings like this — Cole Palmer.

Pairing: Cole Palmer x Fem!Reader

Summary: You loved when Cole didn’t have training. It meant you got to have a normal day together, doing normal things like cook breakfast together without needing to rush.

Word count: 620+

Disclaimer/s: Fluffy + banter !

A/N: I’m finally going through my reqs heyyy

Sun seeping through your curtains had to be the most annoying thing. On Cole’s rare day off, you two liked to sleep in, but the sun had a vendetta against you, clearly. Your boyfriend shifted behind you with a groan, nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck.

“How many times do I have to beg you to get blackout curtains?” He grumbles, his voice raspy with sleep.

A small breath of laughter escapes your lips. “Baby, if you want them so bad, you can buy them.”

Cole’s eyes fluttered open, an amused grin on his lips when his eyes met yours. “Fine. Today, we go get them today.”

Shuffling around to face him, you nod in agreement. “Breakfast first though. Are we in the mood for anything specific? I would kill for Belgian waffles.”

“Do we have flour?” Cole quirks an eyebrow, “because if we do, then we can make some, but I want bacon.”

“Bacon and waffles is an odd combo, but i’m so down.” You sit up, stretching your arms and back. “Okay, I need to go to the bathroom first, i’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

The man nods, climbing out of bed alongside you. He goes to place a kiss on your lips, but you dodge him. “Oh.. we need to brush our teeth first.”

His lips purse and he has to suppress a groan, but nods in agreement anyways. So instead of making his way to the kitchen, he follows you to the bathroom.

After your morning routine was done and you both make your way into the kitchen, you begin preparing for breakfast cooking. You both move in slow motion, too tired to make a hasty breakfast like you usually would on his training days.

“Pass me the measuring cups?” You sigh, putting your hand out patiently.

Cole steps away from the stove where he was making his bacon to grab the cups. Handing them to you, he goes back to where he was previously.

Your phone was connected to a speaker, playing soft tunes while the two of you cooked. “Ay, can I have a drink?”

Your lips pull into a frown. You’d just poured the perfect cup of orange juice. Reluctantly, you hand your boyfriend the glass. “Don’t drink it all, Cole.” You point at his accusatorially, which he feigns offense at before taking two large gulps just in spite.

You gasp, resisting the urge to lunge at him. “Hey! What did I say? You’re such a—“

“Woah!” He laughs, “watch it!”

“A loving, kind, boyfriend.” You grit through a forced smile, “hand it over.” Your boyfriends laughter echoed throughout the kitchen as he hands you the now half empty cup.

Once breakfast had been made, you two sit down at the table across from each other. “So, we go get curtains at around one, and then stop at the new café down the road? I want to try it, your sister said it’s amazing.”

Cole hums, “after that can we stop by the mall? I want to get a new hoodie.”

“You have like—five thousand. Why do you need another?” Your lip curls into a teasing grin.

“Yeah, and so why is my closet empty? Oh, should we go take a peek in yours?” He shoots back. Your smug look falters. Well. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Oh, shut up.” You huff. “New hoodie, got it.”

The rest of the morning goes smoothly, both of you showering and getting ready for the day at a snails pace. You were grateful for his days off, they always made for the perfect lazy days. Plus, any extra time with Cole was time well spent, no matter how productive.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any of my posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[lbibliophile-sw]

Not Your Sucess Story

Also on AO3 @whumptober - day 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

When Dooku Falls, he Falls for power. When Dooku Falls, he Falls for spite.

He wants recognition from the galaxy, from his Master. Sidious sees him as a tool, true; but he is still judging him. In Yoda’s eyes he is just another successful padawan of his lineage, dozens of names and faces blurring together over the centuries.

Dooku is tired of being a collage of comparisons, another notch on his Master’s belt. No. He will be the padawan Yoda failed, the one who succeeded on his own.

If his Masters won’t see Dooku, well, he will show them Tyrannus.

[serickswrites]

Make Me

Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: manipulation, abusive relationship, yandere

“Took you long enough to get home,” Whumper drawled from the chair they were seated in.

Whumpee jumped at Whumper’s words. They cringed as they turned to see Whumper’s angry stare. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were waiting for me.”

“I always wait for you, Whumpee. You know that. I can’t believe you would leave me hanging like that.” Whumper gestured at the florals in a vase by the sink. “I even got you the flowers you like so much.”

Whumpee frowned. “That’s very kind of you, Whumper. And I am sorry you waited for me.” Whumpee did not say that they were just roommates and it didn’t matter what they did with their time. “Maybe you and I can make a plan next time? That way if I have other plans—“

“We always have dinner together Friday nights. Always. I turned down so many different plans to keep our Friday date,” Whumper glared at Whumpee. “I see you couldn’t do the same for me. You’re so inconsiderate.”

“I’m sorry, Whumper, truly,” Whumpee back pedaled. They hadn’t realized how obsessed Whumper was with them. They had ignored the frantic texts wanting to know Whumpee’s schedule daily—surely that was normal roommate stuff. They had ignored that Whumper always seemed to be waiting for them. They had ignored that Whumper always wanted to make plans together. But now, now they couldn’t ignore Whumper’s anger.

“I know you were with Caretaker. Don’t lie to me. I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

Whumpee swallowed. “I was. Why would I lie?”

Whumper gave a bark of humorless laughter. “So you were with them? Instead of me? Whumpee how could you?”

“I can spend time with my friends, Whumper. And what does it matter to you who I spend my time with? We’re just roommates. I’d like to think we are friends, but I’m not so certain about that anymore.”

Whumper’s face went flat. “You don’t love me?” Their bottom lip quivered. “How could you say that?”

“Whumper, I—“

Whumper jumped up, grabbing Whumpee roughly. “If you don’t love me, no one will get your love ever again!”

[iriel3000]

Trigger Warning

Whumptober day 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Summary: the team finds out Natasha has codes like the Winter Soldier. click link below for full story

TRIGGER WARNING

Sixteen - Шестнадцать Purple(violet) - фиолетовый Ice - Лед Dream - мечтать Elephant - Слон Red - красный

“Hawkeye meet us at the hangar, Code Red!”

Barton bolted out the door and up to the landing platform.

The quinjet lowered its ramp. Sam, Maria, and Rhodey hurried out.

"Cap is with her." Sam told him, seeing his worry.

"What happened?"

"Zemo. He spouted some random words and she turned on us." Maria handed Barton most of Natasha's weapons. "Steve and Rhodey had to subdue her."

"She conscious?"

"Yeah."

"I don't understand, Clint. It's like she didn't know us at all."

"Programming from the Red Room. I'll explain it all later."

Barton cleared the ramp in three strides and joined Steve next to a heavily restrained Black Widow on a biobed. He barked her name but she didn’t acknowledge.

"How the hell does he know, Clint?" Steve kept his voice low.

"I was gonna ask you the same question."

"You want me to stay?”

“I might need the backup.”

Steve stepped out of sight. Clint tried again.

“Widow.”

She ignored him. He turned her face towards his.

“Who am I?”

“My next target.” She narrowed her eyes.

please click link above for full story