#Beat the shit out of me before I try that again

[littlelamy]

you were right!

a/n: okay, i know you guys might be tired of me doing these but this is my last one! i hope you all like it 😜 gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The blazing Moroccan sun beats down on Rafe, its intensity mirrored by the firestorm raging in his mind. Dust hangs in the air around him, adding to the harshness of the moment as he stands over the well. Below, Groff coughs and groans, his face contorted in pain, but Rafe barely spares him a second glance. His rage overpowers everything else, even the satisfaction he should feel. He narrows his eyes, voice laced with anger and finality.

“Checkmate, bitch!” he yells down, his words slicing through the hot, tense air. The motorcycle engine he’d used to get out here sits idle a few feet away, rumbling like his frustration.

He turns on his heel, muttering a curse, fists clenched. As he stalks away from the well, he pulls out his phone and dials Sofia’s number, his chest tight with the realization that everything he thought he knew was a lie.

Sofia answers after two rings, her voice as casual as if he hadn’t just found out about her betrayal. “Hey, babe, what’s up ?”

Rafe’s voice is steely, cold. “Is it true? Is it true, what Groff just told me? Is it?”

The silence on her end is all he needs. He can practically hear her scrambling for words, but she never manages to answer. His face twists in anger.

“Pack your shit. Get out of my house,” he snarls, a final, unforgiving edge in his voice. “God, after everything I did for you? We’re done. Done.” He hangs up before she can say another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket with a bitter scoff. Betrayed, twice over—and he’d ignored the only person who saw it coming.

He stands there, baking in the Moroccan heat, his mind racing back to a month ago in Kildare, when you and he had argued over Sofia. You’d warned him that she wasn’t who she seemed. He’d brushed you off, accusing you of jealousy—knowing damn well that there was more to it. You were his best friend, but it was complicated; that line had already been crossed too many times, with late-night kisses and tangled sheets. But you two hadn’t spoken since that fight, since the way he’d brushed you off had hurt deeper than either of you cared to admit.

Taking a breath, he pulls out his phone again, fingers hovering over your name. He hesitates, swallowing his pride, before finally pressing call.

The phone rings, and you pick up after a few moments, your voice tight with annoyance. “What, Rafe?”

Your tone makes him pause, but the way you sound almost comforts him, even with the irritation clear in your voice. You’re there—back in Kildare, probably sitting cozy in your little apartment. Meanwhile, he’s out here under the scorching sun, alone, trying to piece together his pride.

He clears his throat. “Hey… princess,” he says, voice softened, the pet name slipping out before he can stop it. He can almost feel you rolling your eyes on the other end, but he presses on, the words weighing heavy on him. “I—uh… Look, I���m sorry. You were right.”

There’s a surprised pause, and he hears you shift in your seat as if you’re debating whether to hang up or let him speak. When you do answer, your tone is a bit softer, cautious.

“What happened?”

Rafe lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Turns out Sofia was exactly who you said she was. A snake. And here I was, thinking you were just being… petty. But I guess I’m the idiot, huh?”

You breathe out, and he can picture you shaking your head, lips pressed together. “You wouldn’t listen,” you say quietly, as if the words hold more hurt than anger.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his voice. “I know. I was so damn sure you were just jealous. I mean—” He pauses, grappling with how to say it. “Hell, I thought you were jealous because you… I don’t know. I thought you didn’t want me with her because we…” His voice trails off, but the implication lingers between you.

“Yeah,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “I get it.”

Rafe bites his lip, letting the words sink in. “Can I see you? I’m done here in a few days, and I could be back in Kildare very soon. I could stop by, explain… properly.”

A beat passes, and when you finally speak, it’s careful, guarded. “After everything you said last time, why should I?”

He laughs softly, almost self-deprecating. “Because I think you might be the only person I can trust right now. And… I miss you.” His voice drops, laced with a warmth he can’t help. “Even if you’re just going to gloat and rub it in my face.”

You chuckle, and he smiles, savoring the sound. “I don’t know if I miss you or if I just feel sorry for you,” you tease, but the playfulness is back in your tone, if only faintly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, amusement lacing his words. “Act like you don’t care. But come on, you miss me. Admit it.”

A small silence follows, and he imagines the way your lips twitch into a smile. Finally, you relent. “Maybe a little. But you’re bringing wine. Good wine.”

“Oh, don’t worry, baby,” he says, the flirtation back in his voice. “Only the best for you.”

You scoff, but he hears the hint of a laugh. It’s the closest thing he’s had to a good moment in a long time. He takes a breath, savoring the thought of leaving this mess behind and getting back to Kildare—back to the only person who knew him well enough to call him out, and care anyway. As the call ends, he puts his phone in his pocket, a grin spreading across his face, motivating him to get that crown and go to his princess.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif

[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.

[radfemsiren]

Remembering my Afghani American best friend from my islamic elementary and middle school whose dad would get drunk every night and beat the shit out of her mother. She begged and begged for sleepovers because strangers in the house would make him leave, and I never told my parents about the situation (I lied and said she had no father or brothers) because I loved spending time at her house and staying up the whole night doing all the things we weren’t allowed to do that was “haram”… watching rated r movies, playing horror computer games, dancing to music videos on YouTube, cat walking in heels and makeup, scaring ourselves with creepypastas.

I remember we had a million stupid ass discussions about who the purple guy from five nights at Freddies was, or what a slenderman proxy meant, or if there were illuminati signs in Katy Perry music videos, or if emo drawings of Jeff the killer were hot. We’d whisper fight if Beyoncé or Lana del Rey was a better singer, or if teen wolf or maze runner had cuter boys. She was team Beyoncé and teen wolf.

We had to constantly be separated in school for talking, and we hated the creepy janitor and would throw wads of wet paper towel on the bathroom ceiling for him to clean up later. We got into so much trouble together, and would always smirk at each other in detention when we got yelled at. We’d shoplift lipsticks from the mall, and throw away expensive Quran transliterations from school, and sneak into the teachers break room and steal handfuls of ice and throw them on the imam/principal’s desk when he was gone to ruin his paperwork.

I moved away like I always had to do with my constantly migrating family and we lost touch. The last time I saw her in person was when we were still kids at her brothers wedding. I was laughing while I tried to ask her why the bride kept changing into different brightly colored dresses throughout the night. She wasn’t listening, and she burst into tears and cried about how her brother was just like her father and did every horrible thing he did. I held her and squeezed her so tight I thought her bones would break.

I recently tried to reconnect with her again but she’s already married, pregnant, and has abandoned social media and texting because it’s “haram.” Trying to talk to her was like speaking to a stranger… she had no interest in any of the things we would spend hours playing with before. “Islam is important to me now, I’m a new woman. We were messed up kids, it’s time to grow up.” She told me to never contact her again and hung up the phone.

Sometimes I feel like I failed her, and sometimes I understand that I was a girl trying to survive too.

One day I’ll save money to travel back there and talk to her in person. I’ll snap her out of it. We’ll spend all night up together again doing every terrible thing our teachers and parents and religious leaders warned us against, and laughing the whole way through it. We’ll get kicked out of bars and get into trouble and snicker our way through it all, knowing we’ve already won. I still have her dirty, worn, my littlest pet shop horse she gave me when we first met. I hold it in my hands when I see news of the what’s happening to the women of Afghanistan, and I feel like I’ve failed her again. That I’ll forever be stuck an immature child and her a miserable adult, both of us doomed, unable to be saved from our fates in the end.

[pixeldolly]

The Sacrifice - Part 10

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

"The idol's gone, Eliza. I displaced it into Yg's core; if that doesn't melt it, nothing will. Either way, nobody's ever getting their hands on it again."

Yg...the name flashed through Eliza's reeling mind. It was an incalculably old star, a bloated red giant orbited by the lifeless husks of three nameless planets on a plane of existence so remote, fact gave way to rumor and conjecture.

None of that mattered.

Not even her disfigurement mattered, weighed against this new calamity.

Eliza could have struck Fiona dead right then and there, if she hadn't been frozen in utter terror.

The Chkrxgmbvegh, the Nameless One, also felt the shift in the planes.

It felt the inexorable pull of the abyss, as its hold on the material plane began slipping away. Already, it could smell the familiar stench of sulphur and rot and hear the cries of the damned, but the demon was furious.

It had been cheated.

"Witch! Thisss iss your fault! Your sssuffering shall be legendary, even in Hell!"

It did not specify which of the two witches it was speaking to, but Eliza Clare could sense the demon's red-hot ire even as it was pulled into a vortex of lurid un-light. That burning, vengeful anger was aimed at her.

"No, please! It wasn't my fault! SHE's the one, SHE did it!"

"I'll fix it, I swear! I'm begging you, give me another chance!"

Eliza's pleas fell on deaf ears. If the demon was listening, it didn't care; all it cared about was revenge.

She screamed as the fire ignited under her feet, engulfing her with a speed that was unnatural, unstoppable. Eliza thought she knew pain, but she was soon to be disabused of that notion.

She also knew with a certainty that did not originate within herself that this, too, would pale before future torments. Demons did not forgive.

And there was nothing she could do to change it. In a flash of insight dying minds are sometimes granted, Eliza realized that she had been hurtling towards the inferno all along, unable to feel the heat.

Maybe, once, a different outcome had been possible, but the point of no return had come and gone long ago. For the first time in decades, Eliza tasted regret, bitter as a mouthful of poison.

And then, she saw.

A stern father, a Jacoban preacher, trying to "beat the magic out of her."

A resentful mother berating her, knowing she could never, ever be good enough.

Herself as a young woman, vowing she would never be made to feel powerless again, no matter the cost. Sentiment was a weakness to be exploited, which she would cut out of herself as one would an infection.

Her son in her arms, her resolve weakening. It did not break.

Her son...

Then, Eliza saw no more.

"Wh- What happened? Where'd that thing go? Uuughh, I feel like I was hit by a goddamn truck!"

"Banished back to its home dimension. It sounded none too pleased about it, which means a certain blonde witch is being shown the hospitality of the Hellplanes as we speak."

"The fire...shit, are those ashes...?"

"Yep. Didn't leave much behind, did she?"

"Fucking hell - Roman!"

"He's fine. Luckily, the demon only took Eliza."

"Luckily? Sounds like you weren't sure what would happen."

"Well, I wasn't, exactly. I made an educated guess that it would see Eliza as the bigger prize. She'd sold her soul to that thing years ago - Roman was an advance payment on that debt, but it was never going to be enough. The Nameless One was toying with her; it would've demanded more and more, until she could no longer pay."

"Uhuh. And what if it had decided to take both of them?"

"That was a possibility, but I figured it only had enough power left to take one or the other."

"You gamble an awful lot with people's lives, Fiona."

"Considering the alternative was that we all died, I like to think it wasn't unreasonable."

"Fair, I guess. I'm okay too, by the way. Fuck, this bite burns like a motherfucker though! Is demon spit toxic?"

"Jacob...?"

"I'm here. Everything's going to be okay!"

"Where is -"

"It's gone. Fiona banished it; I think. You're safe now."

"And my...mother?"

Jacob pursed his lips; giving that woman the title of "mother" felt like a travesty.

"She's gone too."

"You...How did you know...?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you all the details later, but right now we need to get you to a hospital. How...how are you feeling?"

"Hurts. But - Jacob..."

"Shhhhh."

"Thank you..."

[aliteralchicken]

aliteralchicken I must know when the military tried to recruit Tim

Robin 138-147, it’s bad, the only reason I’ve reread a few of them is because Laura’s in a few issues, the context is that penguin has been hiring assassin after assassin against Tim and Cass, for the soul reason of its easier to hire assassins for a job they won’t be able to complete than to hire new muscle

one of Tim’s would be assassin’s, the rising sun archer (my personal fav, the arrowfam should steal her from this terrible comic) is found tied up with no explanation, Tim’s been dealing with a lot of would be killers lately so upon seeing a guy waiting for him in military uniform immediately after trying to deal with the penguin he immediately does the reasonable thing and attempts to beat the shit out of him

the two fight for a little while before the guy admits that he’s the one who tied up the rising sun archer and since Robin has been fighting new assassins every night he needs an ally, this distracts Tim enough to be knocked out and then they bring him back to his robins nest

He and Bruce talk and Bruce tells him that the veteran is actually some kind of supernatural being, born fully grown on the battlefield and has been fighting in every war for the last two hundred years at least, this may or may not be completely true, but there’s definitely some truth in it

Tim leaves the veteran a note that he wants to talk and then gets a new would be assassin, this time a part dog part man named junkyard dog who’s got an army of rabid canines, Tim knocks them out with gas and and the military squad snipers the rest, after the battles over the veteran says he wants to recruit tim

Tim has a very chilly first meeting the lieutenant before meeting the others, one of whom is actually a robot who Tim collected the comics of as a kid because that’s a way they keep undercover, by making comics

eventually they get to the actual offer, leave batman and join a special branch of the military, that way he’ll be able to fight legally, he asks why not just recruit batman and they say because no because he likes giving orders

Whereas Robin is used to taking them, they did try to recruit nightwing back when he was robin as well

They ask to spar with Tim, they tell him there’s actually been five worlds wars (ones happening right at that moment apparently) this is a terrible distraction because Tim wins the soar against both of them anyway

Tim talks to Bruce about the offer, says he’s going to think about it, then the veteran joins asks if he wants to join them on a mission, this ends up being to Afghanistan where there are…demon eggs

…and they fight demons

Tim saves the lieutenant who kisses him (grown woman, pedo, I told you it was bad)

there’s the omac event, they team up again alongside ragman, blue devil and nightshade and the molars find out the people they’re shooting are civilians, then they team up to fight a bunch of metahumans

Bruce is like you promised you’d never recruit my agents again, the veterans like nuh uh you told me not to I never said I wouldn’t and anyway robin is absolutely 100% gonna join me

and then he doesn’t

[pinkthick]

A Nocturne in Melody

Pairing: Vampire!Viktor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7,852 (about 28 minutes reading time)

Summary: Claire raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Are you sure about that?” she asked, her tone almost pitying. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he loves you. But love doesn’t change the fact that he’s… different now. Forever, actually.”

Notes: This doesn’t contain spoilers whatsoever—so don’t worry. I’m a bit nervous about how this turned out, but hopefully you guys will like it.

Warnings: None(?)

Masterlist: A Nocturne in Melody

Part 2

The apartment was quiet, save for the warm, low notes of your violin filling the space, dancing through the air in practiced strokes. It was the only thing that made you feel somewhat like yourself these days, bringing back some sense of comfort and control. You’d been trying to immerse yourself in the familiar rhythms and melodies, hoping the music would soothe away the dull ache in your leg and the nagging frustration that had settled into your bones since the accident.

You’d avoided the cane again today, though you knew it wasn’t doing you any favors. You could feel the pain creeping up as you stood there, pressing down with each note, reminding you of the limitations you couldn’t outrun. Yet, in these moments, you felt a glimmer of your old self, and you clung to it as fiercely as you could.

You were so caught up in the music, in the small relief it brought, that you didn’t notice Viktor’s presence until he was right behind you, his hands slipping gently around your waist, pulling you close.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the violin bow slipping as you nearly lost your grip on the instrument. “Viktor, you scared the shit out of me!” You let out a breath, feeling the tension unravel as he chuckled softly, his voice warm and low.

“Sorry,” he murmured, though the smile in his voice told you he’d been amused by your reaction. He pulled you a bit closer, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You were so focused.”

You leaned into his embrace, the weight of his arms around you grounding you. It was moments like these that you held onto, reminders that, despite everything, you still had each other. Viktor, with his steady hold, had become your anchor in ways you hadn’t imagined, and you could feel him clinging to you just as tightly.

The past few months had been a struggle, for both of you. After three long months of confinement, Viktor had finally been released from the containment facility. But it hadn’t been easy—he’d battled the cravings, his new instincts, fought to keep control, and every time you’d visited, you’d seen the toll it was taking on him. He hadn’t been the same; the familiar warm amber of his eyes replaced with a striking, unsettling red, his fangs just barely hidden behind his lips.

That first visit, he’d barely looked you in the eye, his hand covering his mouth every time he tried to smile, as if ashamed of the transformation. It had broken your heart, seeing the man you loved reduced to a shadow of himself, fighting so hard to maintain his humanity. And yet, through it all, he’d somehow managed to hold on. When he’d finally been released, he’d come home to you—a different man, perhaps, but still Viktor.

You’d felt the change, though. He was quieter, his shyness around you more pronounced than before, as if afraid of what you might think of him now. You knew the feeling too well—the weight of insecurity and unfamiliarity, the strain of adapting to a body and life that felt like someone else’s. He’d throw himself into his work at the lab, the way he always had, finding solace in his research, but you saw the tiredness in his eyes, the way he avoided smiling too widely or looking at his own reflection.

Yet, in his own way, he had grown stronger. The sickness that had plagued him for so long was gone, replaced with a physical resilience he’d never had before. He was healthier, able to stand for hours without feeling drained, able to keep up with the demands of the lab. But that strength had come at a price, and the reminder was always there—the enforcers stationed outside your apartment, the watchful eyes that followed him everywhere he went. Even at the lab, he was under constant surveillance, their eyes a constant reminder that he was no longer fully trusted.

And then there was you. The pain in your leg was a relentless, unwelcome companion, one that left you frustrated, refusing to rely on the cane you knew you needed. You missed the freedom of movement, the confidence you once had. Every step reminded you of the limitations, and you could feel the anger simmering just beneath the surface, anger at the vampire who’d done this, at the world, even, sometimes, at Viktor for reminding you of what you’d lost.

But when you looked into Viktor’s eyes, when you felt his arms around you, that anger faded, replaced by a fierce determination to be there for him, just as he was for you. You both needed each other, more than ever.

As you leaned back against his chest, Viktor’s arms tightened around you, his chin resting on your shoulder. He was silent for a moment, just holding you, and you could feel the subtle tension in his body, as if he had something on his mind.

“There’s a… party this weekend,” he said finally, his voice hesitant. “One of the council members is hosting it. They want me to be there, but I… I won’t go if you’re not coming.”

You took a deep breath, biting your lip as you weighed his words. The idea of a crowded event, of being surrounded by people, the inevitable questions, the looks—none of it appealed to you. And yet, you knew how much this meant to him, how much he needed your support. It was his first real public appearance since the transformation, and though he’d never say it, you could tell he was nervous.

“Do you… want to go?” you asked, turning slightly to look up at him, your gaze meeting his.

He hesitated, his red eyes flickering with something vulnerable. “Only if you’re with me,” he said softly. “I can handle the stares, the questions… but I don’t want to do it alone. Not without you.”

You reached up, brushing a hand along his cheek, feeling the familiar warmth beneath your fingertips. His hand came up to cover yours, holding it gently, as if afraid you might pull away. The subtle red in his eyes, the faint glint of his fangs as he spoke—these were all reminders of the change, but they didn’t scare you. They were part of him now, just as much as the man you’d fallen in love with.

After a long moment, you nodded. “I’ll go with you,” you said quietly, your voice steady. “If you want to be there, I’ll be there with you.”

The relief in his expression was palpable, his grip on your hand tightening as he pulled you even closer. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice barely a whisper as he spoke.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For staying… for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You leaned into his embrace, letting the warmth of his words wash over you. Despite everything, despite the pain and the challenges, you knew that this was where you both belonged—together, finding strength in each other, one day at a time.

—

The lab was alive with the familiar hum of machinery, the faint scent of metal and ozone filling the air as Viktor and Jayce huddled over a collection of blueprints and prototypes spread across the table. The hextech core, their shared obsession and the key to their work, glowed faintly between them, casting a cool, ethereal light over their faces.

Jayce tapped a finger against one of the blueprints, his brow furrowing as he studied the design. “You can’t possibly think that would work,” he said, casting a skeptical look in Viktor’s direction.

Viktor, unperturbed, adjusted his goggles and tilted his head, studying the hextech core with a keen, almost reverent gaze. “I’m saying it’s worth a try, Jayce. We’ve exhausted the more conventional approaches. Maybe a… less traditional method will yield something.”

Jayce crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Less traditional, huh? Like throwing caution to the wind and just seeing what sticks?”

Viktor gave a slight, amused smile. “Something like that.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but leaned forward, studying the core more closely. “All right, fine. But combining it with some other element? We’re not just talking about amplifying power here, Viktor. We’re talking about potentially unstable results, especially if it reacts poorly.”

“Precisely,” Viktor murmured, his mind racing as he turned the core over in his hands. “But if we could stabilize it… think about the applications. Energy that could revolutionize everyday life, a source of power that could improve accessibility for all kinds of people. More efficient, more durable. Something truly transformative.”

Jayce’s skepticism softened a little, his gaze shifting from the core to Viktor. “You really think this could be it, don’t you? The next step in hextech?”

Viktor nodded, his eyes gleaming with a quiet intensity. “Imagine a hextech device that could adapt to its user, that could help those who struggle with mobility, sight, or strength. It wouldn’t just be a tool; it would be a part of them. Empowering, not controlling.”

Jayce’s gaze dropped back to the core, the seed of interest clearly taking root. “That does sound… incredible,” he admitted, though there was still a hint of doubt in his voice. “But to get there, we’d need a material strong enough to withstand the energy fluctuations while still being flexible.”

Viktor nodded thoughtfully, his mind already racing through possible solutions. “True. We’d need something that can handle extreme stress without compromising the user’s safety or mobility.” He paused, his brow furrowing in thought. “Perhaps… something organic? Or partially organic. The problem with pure metal is that it limits flexibility and precision.”

“Partially organic?” Jayce echoed, blinking in surprise. “Are you suggesting a hybrid material?”

Viktor shrugged, his fingers tracing patterns in the dust on the table as he spoke, his mind a whirlwind of ideas. “It’s not entirely unheard of. The human body is essentially a collection of organic materials working together with remarkable efficiency. Why not replicate that balance in our design?”

Jayce snorted, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes. “So now you want to build a synthetic organism, too?”

“Not a full organism,” Viktor replied, a touch of exasperation in his voice. “But a material that can mimic the body’s adaptability and resilience. Something that can respond to the user’s needs in real time.”

Jayce leaned back, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “But even if we could figure out the material, there’s still the issue of integrating it with the hextech core itself. Combining two different energy sources could be volatile.”

Viktor smiled faintly, the spark of an idea beginning to take shape. “What if we used the hextech as a kind of catalyst? Not the primary power source, but something that enhances the natural energy within the material.”

Jayce’s brow furrowed, his mind turning over the possibilities. “So the hextech would amplify the organic properties, like a booster?”

Viktor nodded, his excitement building as he spoke. “Exactly. It would be less invasive, more in tune with the body’s natural rhythms. Think about what that could mean for prosthetics, for example. Devices that respond as seamlessly as a real limb, that adapt and strengthen over time. It could be life-changing.

Jayce was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the hextech core as he processed the idea. “All right, so let’s say we somehow manage to stabilize this… hybrid material. How do we test it?”

Viktor’s expression turned serious, the weight of the challenge settling over him. “We’d need to find a way to monitor the energy flow, to ensure that the hextech doesn’t overwhelm the organic component. But if we can do that…” he replied, his voice quiet.

He let the words hang in the air, the possibilities stretching out before them, vast and uncharted. Jayce nodded slowly, clearly intrigued by the potential of Viktor’s vision.

“This is ambitious—and dangerous,” Jayce admitted, glancing over at Viktor with a mixture of admiration and caution. “But then, you’ve always been ambitious.”

Viktor gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “Ambition isn’t always a bad thing, is it?”

Jayce laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Not when it comes from the right place. And I think you’re onto something here. But we’re going to need a lot of resources to make this work—materials, prototypes, testing… We’re talking months, maybe years of development.”

Viktor nodded, unperturbed by the daunting timeline. “I’m willing to put in the work. We both are, aren’t we?”

Jayce grinned, a hint of the old, infectious enthusiasm returning to his eyes. “Hell yeah, we are. Besides, who else would I want as a partner on something this crazy?”

They shared a rare, genuine smile, the camaraderie between them rekindled by the shared sense of purpose. For all their differences, for all the disagreements and setbacks, this was why they worked together—this shared vision, this drive to create something that could change the world for the better.

Jayce leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face as he considered their next steps. “So, where do we start? We’re going to need a lot more data on organic materials. Something durable but responsive.”

Viktor nodded, already flipping through the stack of papers and sketches scattered across the table. “There’s some research on flexible bio-metals in the archives. And I know of a few labs that have been experimenting with synthetic nerve tissues. If we can combine their properties with the hextech…”

Jayce’s eyes lit up, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Then we just might have a shot.”

They worked in companionable silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts as they sifted through data, sketches, and formulas. Every now and then, Viktor would jot down a note or make a quick calculation, his mind racing with possibilities. Jayce watched him, a sense of admiration growing as he saw the focus and determination in Viktor’s gaze.

After a while, Jayce broke the silence, his voice soft but thoughtful. “You know, Viktor… you’re not just doing this for the science, are you?”

Viktor glanced up, surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

Jayce shrugged, a knowing look in his eyes. “You talk about improving lives, helping people, creating something that could change the world. But I think… I think there’s more to it than that for you.”

Viktor was silent for a moment, his gaze dropping back to the hextech core in his hands. “Perhaps,” he admitted quietly. “I suppose… I know what it’s like to feel limited, to have a body that doesn’t do what you need it to. If I can create something that eases that struggle, that gives people back a sense of freedom… then maybe it’s worth it.”

Jayce nodded, a look of respect in his eyes. “I get it. And honestly? I’m with you on this, Viktor. Let’s see how far we can push this thing. Together.”

Viktor met Jayce’s gaze, a flicker of gratitude passing over his face. He wasn’t one to show emotions easily, but in that moment, he felt a surge of appreciation for his friend, for the support and trust that had sustained their partnership through countless challenges.

“Thank you, Jayce,” he said quietly. “For believing in this.”

Jayce grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, don’t thank me yet. We still have to make it work.”

—

The practice room buzzed with the usual chatter and hustle as you finished your session with the crew, the notes of your violin still lingering in the air as you put it down. The familiar routine of rehearsals and the comfort of music always helped ease your mind, giving you a momentary escape from the worries that had been creeping in lately. You were glad you’d come; it felt good to play, to be part of something steady, a rhythm that didn’t ask too much of you, didn’t remind you of the things you’d lost or the new insecurities you were fighting.

The rehearsal wrapped up, and you packed up your violin, the room gradually emptying as everyone trickled out. You’d just slung the violin case over your shoulder when a familiar voice made you turn.

“I heard you were coming to the Kiramman’s party.”

Claire stood there, arms crossed, her gaze sharp and assessing as it lingered on you. She hadn’t exactly been the friendliest toward you, and her appearance here now felt deliberate, her words carrying a weight that hinted at more than just small talk.

You nodded, choosing your words carefully. “Yes, I am.”

“Oh, are you…?” She paused, her lips curving into a knowing smile that made you instantly wary. “You’re coming with Viktor?”

“Yes,” you replied, keeping your tone neutral, though you could feel your pulse quickening, a hint of irritation creeping in at her tone. “Why?”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Oh, I thought he’d pick someone from his… league by now.”

The words hit you like a slap, cold and unexpected. You blinked, taken aback, but you quickly tried to brush it off, refusing to give her the reaction she was clearly hoping for. “I’m sorry?”

She shrugged, as if the comment had been nothing more than an idle observation, her gaze still fixed on you with that same sharpness. “Oh, so you’re still together then,” she said, her voice laced with a mock sympathy that only fueled the knot of tension in your chest. “Pity.”

The implication was clear, each word sinking in like a tiny, well-placed barb. You could feel the anger bubbling up, the instinct to defend yourself and Viktor against her assumptions, but you bit your tongue, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“Why would it be a pity?” you managed, your voice colder than you’d intended.

Claire gave you a long, appraising look, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your reaction. “Well, I just thought…” She hesitated, feigning innocence, though you could see the satisfaction flickering in her gaze. “I thought he might want to be with someone who understands him a little better now, that’s all. Someone who… lives forever. You know?”

You swallowed, her words sinking deeper, twisting in ways that left a dull ache in your chest. Part of you wanted to brush her off, to shrug it off as nothing more than petty jealousy, but her words hit a nerve, stirring up insecurities you’d been trying to keep buried.

“You don’t know Viktor,” you said quietly, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “We’re together because we care about each other, not because of what we are.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Are you sure about that?” she asked, her tone almost pitying. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he loves you. But love doesn’t change the fact that he’s… different now. Forever, actually.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle in, watching you carefully, as if gauging how much of her message was getting through.

“Maybe he’s not thinking about it now,” she continued, her voice softening slightly, as if she were offering advice rather than criticism. “But one day, he will. One day, he’ll realize that he doesn’t have to limit himself to… well, to the human experience anymore.”

Her gaze flicked pointedly to your leg, lingering just long enough to drive the point home.

The implication stung, dredging up the insecurities you’d tried so hard to bury since Viktor’s transformation. You’d been fighting to keep those fears at bay, to trust that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the changes, but Claire’s words struck at the heart of your doubts, leaving you feeling raw and exposed.

“I’m not… holding him back,” you said, though the words felt weak, uncertain, even to your own ears.

Claire shrugged again, her expression almost pitying. “Maybe you’re not now. But one day, he’ll want more. And you’ll have to decide whether you’re willing to let him have it.”

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, settling in your mind with a finality that left you feeling hollow. You tried to shake it off, to remind yourself that Claire didn’t know Viktor, that she couldn’t possibly understand what you shared, but the doubts had already taken root, lingering in the back of your mind like a slow, insidious poison.

Without another word, Claire turned and walked away, leaving you alone with the echo of her words, her parting glance a final, silent jab that left you reeling.

—

The soft glow of the evening settled over your apartment as you slipped on your dress, adjusting the fabric and inspecting your reflection in the mirror. Tonight was important for Viktor — it was more than a social event; it was a milestone. Since his release from the facility, he hadn’t attended anything quite so grand or public, and you could tell it weighed on him.

As you adjusted the delicate straps of your dress, you caught Viktor’s reflection standing behind you, pulling his sleeves into place and carefully fastening each button. He was dressed sharply, his hair smoothed down and his posture straighter than usual. Yet his gaze was distant, a flicker of nerves clouding his eyes as he adjusted his collar for the fourth time.

Turning to face him, you took a step closer and rested a hand on his shoulder, watching him tense and then relax under your touch. “You know, it’s not going to be that bad, right?” you said softly, your voice laced with encouragement.

Viktor glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he tried to shrug it off. “Yes, yes — just nervous.”

But his answer didn’t fool you; you could sense there was more to his unease than simple nerves. He looked at you, his gaze lingering, and something in his expression made your heart skip. Before you could ask him about it, he closed the distance between you, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was gentle at first, then deeper, more insistent, as if he were pouring a quiet desperation into it.

You felt a flutter in your chest, the heat of his touch surprising you but drawing you in all the same. Your hands slipped around his waist, pulling him closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Viktor’s hand trailed to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, a quiet intensity building between you.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his breath warm against your skin. He held your gaze, his eyes shadowed with something you couldn’t quite place. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as if he didn’t want to let go.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked softly, your voice laced with concern.

Viktor hesitated, his eyes searching yours before he managed a faint smile. “I am,” he murmured, but his hand tightened ever so slightly on your waist, as if anchoring himself. “I just… I don’t want to make a fool of myself tonight.”

You chuckled, the warmth in his gaze making your heart swell. “You could never make a fool of yourself,” you assured him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re going to be amazing, Viktor. Everyone will see what I see.”

His eyes softened, his fingers grazing along your cheek with a tenderness that made your breath catch. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if he were speaking a truth too fragile to say aloud.

He kissed you again, slower this time, his lips lingering as if he were savoring the moment. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer, and you could feel his heart pounding in time with yours. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in the quiet warmth of each other’s presence.

After a moment, he pulled back, his hand still resting on your waist as he gazed at you with a mix of admiration and something deeper, something that tugged at the edges of your heart. “I… I don’t say it often,” he began, his voice faltering slightly, “but I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a quiet happiness that came from knowing just how much you meant to him. Smiling, you placed a hand over his, squeezing gently. “And I don’t know where I’d be without you,” you replied, your voice soft. “We’ve always been together, haven’t we?”

He nodded, a hint of relief easing the tension in his expression. “Yes… always.”

—

The atmosphere at the Kiramman party was electric. The warm lights cast a glow over the grand hall, and the murmur of laughter and conversation filled the space as you stood with Viktor, Jayce, Mel, and Caitlyn. Even with the initial excitement, your leg was already protesting the long hours of standing. You’d brought your cane along but tried to lean against it subtly, hoping to mask the pain that was slowly creeping in.

Caitlyn, ever perceptive, gave you a look, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Are you doing okay?” she asked, voice low enough so only you could hear.

You gave a reassuring nod, managing a small smile. “I’m fine, thanks,” you replied, though the ache in your leg said otherwise.

Viktor, however, was harder to read tonight. He was unusually fidgety, his fingers tapping against his glass, eyes darting to Jayce every now and then. When he noticed you watching him, he looked down quickly, almost as if he’d been caught. Jayce raised a brow at Viktor with a knowing smirk, but didn’t say anything, making the whole interaction feel even stranger.

Amid the lively discussions about hextech and advancements in Piltover, Viktor suddenly leaned close, his voice a touch uncertain. “Do you want something from the bar?”

The question caught you off guard, but you welcomed the distraction. “Uh—I could use a hugo.”

Without another word, Viktor nodded and hurried off towards the bar, his shoulders tense, leaving you with the others. Jayce, who had been watching Viktor with a mixture of amusement and sympathy, turned to you with a small grin, his eyebrows raised.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, but he just shook his head, his smile saying more than words could.

Jayce’s smirk lingered a moment longer, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on with Viktor tonight. He had seemed on edge, more so than usual, and while you wanted to brush it off as pre-party nerves, something about his behavior felt different. And then there were those subtle glances he kept exchanging with Jayce. It was as if Viktor was working up to something, or maybe he just needed a moment to take the edge off.

Meanwhile, across the room, Viktor was at the bar, his shoulders visibly easing as he downed a quick shot of vodka, then another, clearly hoping to settle his nerves. He never drinked like this. The burn must have helped because he took a deep breath, visibly relaxing as the bartender set about mixing your drink.

Just then, Esma, one of Viktor’s colleagues from the lab, approached him with a smile. Her striking red dress and piercing gaze gave her an air of elegance that immediately drew attention. “Viktor,” she greeted warmly, “we haven’t caught up in a while.”

“Oh—Esma,” Viktor replied, his voice light as he turned to her, but his usual guardedness softened under the influence of the alcohol. “It’s been… busy.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” she replied with a coy smile, leaning in slightly. “You’ve been making quite the impression these days. Working on any new projects?”

“Well,” he started, glancing down at his empty shot glass before looking back at her, “it’s still early stages, but yes, Jayce and I have… something in the works.” He gestured for another shot, downing it before he could think twice, and you could tell from across the room that his inhibitions were starting to lower.

Esma’s smile lingered as she watched him, her gaze lingering a beat too long. “I’m sure it’s something remarkable. You’ve always had that drive. It’s rare, you know.” Her tone held a warmth that was almost… flirtatious.

A pang of something bitter twisted in your chest as you watched them. It wasn’t like you to feel this way, yet Claire’s words had been gnawing at you for days now, tainting your thoughts in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Maybe she had a point, you thought reluctantly. Viktor’s new status, his abilities, his longevity — it felt like a widening chasm between you two, one that was hard to ignore. You hated feeling this insecure, but it was as if her words had planted a seed that was growing despite your efforts to stamp it out.

You tried to shake it off, but the hurt in your chest only grew. You needed air, a moment to clear your head. Without another word to the others, you quietly slipped away, making your way to the open balcony where the cool evening air brushed against your skin, a welcome relief from the crowded hall. The night sky stretched out before you, the stars scattered like tiny diamonds against the deep blue canvas. It was beautiful, yet you felt strangely hollow, a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

It wasn’t long before the faint sound of footsteps reached you, and you turned to see Viktor standing in the doorway, a glass in his hand. He hesitated, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. “You… left,” he said softly, stepping closer and holding out the drink.

You took it with a small smile, though the weight of your thoughts still lingered. “Just needed some fresh air,” you replied, taking a sip and feeling the refreshing taste of the hugo wash over you before setting it down on a table.

Viktor stood beside you, his gaze following yours as he looked out at the cityscape. There was a silence between you, not uncomfortable but heavy with words unspoken. After a moment, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you… alright?” His hand moved to rest on the balcony railing, fingers brushing close to yours.

You took a breath, considering his question. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just—thinking.”

His brow furrowed, his eyes searching yours. “About?”

You hesitated, unsure if you should share what was truly on your mind. But the vulnerability in his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, made it hard to hold back. “It’s… probably nothing,” you began, your voice faltering slightly. “I just… I’ve been thinking about us, about… everything.”

Viktor’s grip tightened on the railing, and you noticed the subtle tension in his posture. “You don’t have to worry,” he murmured, his voice low. “You mean everything to me. I know things have… changed, but that hasn’t.”

You felt a warmth spread through you, a reassurance that eased the ache in your chest. He reached for your hand, his fingers cool against yours, and held it tightly, as if grounding himself in the connection between you.

Before you could respond, though, you heard Jayce calling from behind, his voice laced with good-natured exasperation. “There you two are! Come on, they’re about to start the toast. You’re both missing out.”

Viktor shot you a small smile, his fingers lingering on yours as if reluctant to let go.

“Shall we?”

You nodded but you were still looking out over the city with an expression Viktor couldn’t read. He took a few steps forward, reaching out tentatively before stopping, something uncertain flickering in his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, his gaze searching yours.

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah,” you replied, though the word felt heavy on your tongue, the weight of what you’d been feeling all evening pressing harder against your chest.

Viktor’s lips quirked up, his eyes softening. He leaned in, closing the small distance between you, but when he went to press a quick kiss to your lips, you instinctively pulled back. The hurt in his eyes was immediate, and he chuckled nervously, trying to hide his disappointment.

“You say that you’re okay,” he murmured, his voice slightly strained, “but then you do… this.”

For a moment, you just looked at him, taking in every detail: the crimson hue of his irises, the gleam of his fangs when he spoke, his posture straighter, stronger. He looked so different, yet so unmistakably him. It was everything he had always wanted — strength, vitality, a body that didn’t betray him at every step. And while you wanted to feel only pride and joy for him, you couldn’t deny the other emotions that simmered beneath the surface.

You wanted him to be happy, to have this life that had been stolen from him for so long. But when you looked at him now, the gap between you felt insurmountable. He was practically immortal, untouched by the limits you were now feeling so acutely in yourself.

“Viktor…” you began, voice catching as you struggled to find the words.

His brows knit together, a flash of fear passing over his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, but you didn’t meet his gaze, afraid he’d see everything you were feeling.

“I love you so much,” you finally said, your voice breaking. “So much it hurts, Viktor. But… maybe you’d be better off without me.”

His hand froze mid-air, and for a second, he looked as if you’d struck him. He blinked, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it, his expression tight. “You’re… not serious,” he whispered, the words barely escaping him as he searched your face, looking for any hint that you were joking.

But you held his gaze, your silence an answer in itself.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he said, his voice growing more desperate, his hands reaching for yours, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re tired, you’re… frustrated. But that’s all it is.”

You let out a trembling breath, glancing down at your intertwined hands, his touch grounding you even as your heart ached. “Viktor, this isn’t… I’m not just tired,” you said, your voice shaking. “It’s that— I will die one day, Viktor. And it’s not fair to you. You deserve someone who can be with you forever.”

“And it was fair to you?” he shot back, his tone sharper than you’d ever heard it. “When I was dying, when we first got into the relationship, you knew that I would die, probably within a few years. And yet you stayed. You knew I couldn’t give you a future, you still…” His voice cracked, and he looked down, his hand slipping from yours as he pressed it against his forehead, closing his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

“It was different,” you whispered, swallowing hard. The words sounded hollow even to your own ears.

He let out a bitter laugh, one that was full of hurt and frustration. “Different?” he repeated, his voice shaking. “How was it different? Tell me, please, because I am struggling to understand.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words wouldn’t come. In truth, you weren’t sure how to explain it. When you’d first got into a relationship with him, he’d been so frail, so full of life and ambition despite his limitations. You’d fallen in love with him knowing his time was limited, that every day with him was a gift you could lose at any moment. And now… he was the one who would live on, untouched by age or illness, while you were bound by the inevitabilities of your human existence.

“It’s because… you have forever now, Viktor,” you managed, your voice barely a whisper. “You have this chance, this life ahead of you. I don’t want to hold you back from that.”

Viktor’s gaze softened, the anger fading as he stepped closer, his hands finding your shoulders, his grip firm as he forced you to look at him. “You were never— you could never hold me back,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. Don’t you see that? You’ve been with me through everything — you are my future. None of this means anything if I don’t have you by my side.”

His words cut through your resolve, and you felt a surge of tears well up, your chest tightening as you looked at him, his red eyes glistening with a desperation you’d never seen before. He was breaking, and it shattered you to see him like this, so vulnerable, so raw.

“I thought…” you began, your voice choked as you struggled to find the right words. “I thought maybe… you’d be better off with someone… someone like you.”

A flicker of pain crossed his face, and he looked down, his fingers tightening on your shoulders. “So that’s what this is about,” he murmured, a trace of bitterness in his tone. “You think I want… that I’d prefer someone else?”

You shook your head, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks. “It’s just — it’s hard,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I see you now, and you’re everything you’ve always wanted to be. And I want to be happy for you, but I can’t help but feel like… like you deserve more.”

He let out a shaky breath, his own eyes glistening as he looked at you, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I am everything I wanted to be. Stronger, healthier… but without you, none of it means anything. I never… I never wanted immortality. I wanted a life with you, even if it was short. That was enough for me.” His voice broke, and you saw the first tear slip down his cheek, his hand trembling against your skin. “Please… don’t take that away from me,” he whispered, his gaze pleading as he held you, as if he were afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

You couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped you, your heart breaking as you reached up, covering his hand with yours, leaning into his touch. “Viktor… I don’t want to lose you,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “But I’m so afraid. Afraid that one day, I’ll be gone, and you’ll… you’ll regret staying with me.”

He shook his head, his gaze fierce as he pressed his forehead against yours, his breaths shaky as he clung to you. “I would never regret loving you,” he whispered, his voice full of conviction. “No matter what happens, no matter how much time we have… I want to spend it with you. Don’t you understand? You’re the only one I want.”

You felt the weight of his words settle over you, and for a moment, the fear and doubt melted away, replaced by the warmth of his love, his unwavering devotion. He loved you, more deeply than you’d ever thought possible, and in that moment, you realized that maybe… maybe that was enough.

With a trembling breath, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, feeling his heartbeat against yours. “I love you, Viktor,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips like a confession. “I don’t want to leave you..but—“

He let out a shuddering sigh, his arms tightening around you as if he could hold you there forever. “Then stay,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Please… stay.”

You drew in a shaky breath, feeling as if the words that had settled like stones in your throat would shatter everything around you. “I really don’t want you to regret us,” you whispered, struggling to keep your voice steady. Viktor’s eyes softened, and without hesitation, he cupped your face with both hands, gently but firmly guiding you to meet his gaze. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the tears that had already started to fall.

“How could I even—love, listen to me once and for all,” he murmured, his voice steady yet filled with such raw tenderness it made your heart ache. His eyes, normally so focused and intense, were now wide open, inviting you to see every inch of his soul. “I could never regret us. You are… everything.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was filled only by the faint sounds of the party and the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. As you looked into his eyes, you realized that his feelings for you had never changed, even though so much about him had. There was a truth there, in the depths of his red eyes, that transcended everything else — that his love for you was still, and would always be, unwavering.

But before you could even find the words to respond, Viktor took a small step back, his hands falling from your face as he reached into his coat pocket. And then he pulled out a small velvet box.

The air left your lungs in an instant. You stared at it, unable to process what you were seeing as he held the box in his palm, looking down at it with a strange mixture of determination and vulnerability.

“I’d planned this for… well, longer than I’d like to admit,” he said, his voice laced with a soft, almost shy chuckle as he opened the box, revealing a delicate, glistening ring inside. “I wanted tonight to be perfect. I thought about it so many times, wondering how I would ask you. But all I knew was that I couldn’t… I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

The realization washed over you, sudden and powerful. He’d been planning to propose. He’d come here tonight with the hope of a promise, of solidifying the life you’d built together, and in return, you’d nearly torn it all apart.

A strangled laugh escaped you, and you felt a fresh wave of tears spring to your eyes as you stared at the ring. It was beautiful, simple yet elegant, and it seemed to sparkle with the same quiet strength you’d always seen in him. The mix of emotions overwhelmed you — laughter and tears blending into something that felt too big for words as you buried your face in his chest, gripping his shirt with trembling hands.

“I’m… I’m such an idiot,” you managed between sobs and laughter, your voice muffled against him. “You wanted to… you were going to propose, and I… I nearly ruined it. Viktor, I…” He held you tightly, one hand resting on the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he let you ride out the storm of emotions. “No, no,” he murmured soothingly, his voice a soft balm against the rawness of your guilt and regret. “You didn’t ruin anything. I understand, love. I understand more than you know.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still brimming with tears, but his expression was filled with nothing but warmth and understanding. He took your hands, guiding them up to his chest, pressing them over his heart so you could feel the steady, reassuring beat.

“I know you’re afraid,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And… I know I’m asking for a lot. For you to share your life with someone who will outlive everyone else around him, who’s been changed in ways neither of us fully understand. But please, please believe me when I say that none of that matters. What matters is you, and everything we’ve built together. I would never regret us. Ever.”

You felt another tear slip down your cheek as you reached up, brushing your fingers along the edge of his face. He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes briefly, as if savoring the warmth of your skin against his. And in that moment, you felt a surge of clarity, a sudden certainty that cut through the lingering doubts and fears.

“I want that too,” you whispered, your voice steadying as the weight of your decision settled over you. “I want… all of it. With you.”

Viktor’s eyes opened, his gaze locking onto yours, and you saw the flicker of relief and joy that passed over his face. He lifted the ring from the box, holding it delicately between his fingers as he looked at you with a question in his eyes, a silent plea for confirmation. “Then—Will you marry me?” he asked softly, his voice almost trembling as he held his breath, waiting for your answer.

You nodded, a smile breaking through the lingering tears. “Yes. God—yes. Viktor, I want to be with you. For as long as we have.”

He let out a shaky breath, a relieved, disbelieving laugh escaping him as he slipped the ring onto your finger. His hands were trembling, and you could feel the way he was fighting to hold back his own emotions as he gazed at the ring, his thumb brushing over it gently once it was in place.

When he looked back up at you, his eyes were glistening, the raw vulnerability in them something he’d only ever shown to you. He cupped your face again, his fingers gentle as he wiped away the last remnants of your tears. “I love you,” he whispered, the words soft and reverent, as if he were speaking a sacred truth. “More than anything in this world.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was gentle, yet filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed yourself closer, letting the warmth of his embrace wash over you, grounding you in the certainty of his love.

The kiss deepened, and for a few precious moments, there was nothing else — no doubts, no fears, just the quiet, unshakable truth of your love for each other. When you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling as you leaned your forehead against his, you felt a sense of peace settle over you, as if all the pieces had finally fallen into place.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your cheek. “There’s no need to thank me,” he replied softly. “Just… be here with me. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle over you, and you knew, without a doubt, that this was where you were meant to be.

A/N: I still haven’t finished part 3, but part 4 is done lmao😭, since it’s just smut and maybe I’ll post it?? (I don’t know if I should or not lmao)

[ray935sworld]

Please bonk me with a stick before I get back in talking stage with my ex again, okay?

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

i have to think about chilchuck and laios forever

[medicinemane]

Mike johnson has so god damn much blood on his hands, obviously Ukrainian blood, but also plenty of American blood

Refusing to renew something that helps vets exposed to atomic blast and Americans who were downwind of the fall out... it's just sick. I can't fucking stand mike johnson, he's one of the worst scum to ever be in congress, and that's fucking saying something

"Johnson refused to allow House members to vote on bipartisan legislation to renew and improve the program"

Fucking quivering little pimple seems to have a real MO for just wringing his hands while insisting it's not his fault, he just can't do the one fucking part of his job of putting shit up to a vote... oh boo hoo, so sad, he'll just have to unilaterally let funding expire on things instead of literally just putting it up to our elected representatives to see if they want to vote yay or nay

Single handedly make the choices but it's not his fault when they work out how they do

Murderer

[talentforlying]

father grimaldi: forgive me, lord, for i have sinned. constantine: — understatement of the bloody century, that is. father grimaldi: the chapel is closed to the public! who are you? how did you get in here . . .? constantine: did you know vatican city has the highest per-capita crime rate of any nation state in the world? i'd have thought a touch of breaking and entering's pretty much par for the course around here.

so #1, an undeniable slay.

#2, how long do we think he was sitting in the confessional booth waiting for the guy to wake up from ellie's fake vision quest. like an hour? checking his light, practicing his Big Reveal Pose TM? he probably brought a book with him and just shoved it underneath the seat cushion when it was time to show off.

#3, knowing how intensely he studied & continues to study in order to teach himself magic at such an absurdly advanced level without any teachers to formally guide him? and how that level of dedication would absolutely carry over into researching a mark / making sure he had every corner of a confidence scheme nailed down pat? i like to imagine that the day before this meeting was spent with his severely under-caffeinated ass parked at a public library computer, squinting at articles for 'most important things to know about vatican city before you travel' or 'top 10 little-known facts about vatican city' and using the back of his boarding pass to take notes on what would be the best throwaway line to blow off all the usual questions with.

also, he probably woke up still in his travel clothes less than two hours before this scene and had to hustle to get suited up in time for his Dramatic Apparition. the demon blood was boiling so bad in that chapel that it was giving him a killer migraine. he didn't get breakfast so his stomach was growling the ENTIRE time. but all that meant was he had plenty of room to eat UP the runway and that's EXACTLY what the fuck he did.i'm

[hella1975]

happy eurovison!! do your stretches!!!

babe it's been days since i did my stretches at this point im too scared

[catgirlwarrior]

KSTSSJSGXGDUXGNVUSVHXIB

[2024skin]

Crazy to be 20 years old and my mom casually mentioning that she was so glad i decided of my own volition that I didn't want to see my bio father anymore bc she knew that he and his mom were smoking meth when I came to visit but didn't want to tell me unless I brought it up cuz she didn't want me to have a bad impression of them 😭 that woman is a saint if I found out my baby daddy was tweaking in front of my toddler I would've poisoned his supply and sent them both to the graves from "overdose"

[dykegonzo]

i fear im gonna have to start fucking killing people

[weed-cat]

I HATE EBV!!!!!!!!!