#I like to think that my singing voice is like. Okay. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 2 days ago

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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.

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otherone12 · 2 days ago

Note

HII ITS ME AGAIN !!!! OKAY SOOOO I had this idea right... how about a super fem super cute super "girl next door" reader x basement gee ?? :3 like the whole cheerleader x loser trope !!! I think that'd be like super cute !

Wait, Are You In A Band?!

Basement!Gerard Way x Reader

-> Masterlist

HEYYY!! WELCOME BACK!!! Sorry for took too long 😭 Hope u well <3!! Okayokay, I went too literal with the "cheerleader x loser" part, because I thought it was awesome make some "high school" plot, anyways, the fic turned really longer, with fluff and angst... hope u like it! <3 (If it turned out too different from what you imagined, let me know and I'll try to fix it :) )

PS: it's 2am in my time zone, so when I'm rested I'll revise the fic better.

Summary: After a late cheer practice, you was walking home, but you herd simomething comming from your neighbor's basement. Was he... singing? Maybe he wasn't just the weirdo kid at your school.

- Word Count: 6.400

- Warnings: None :)

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV (reader)

Here I am, making my way to my home after hours practicing the next cheer performance. Exhausted and with my ponytail, I was almost at home, but something caught my attention, a loud song coming from one of the houses in my neighborhood. The sound wasn’t clear, but I followed it, letting go of how tired I was, walking to the house I thought the sound was coming. Surprisingly, I knew whose house was.

I knew that Gerard was my classmate since ever, he wasn’t much of a talking guy, nor did his style match with the rest of the people around here. I'm not gonna lie here, I always had a bit of curiosity about him. Not too long ago, I found out he lives three houses away from mine. Part of me wanted to ‘casually’ knock there to say ‘hi’.

At first I didn't recognize the voice, but when I approached his house I was sure that it was definitely his voice. Enchanted by the sound, I stepped the closest I could, paying attention to the song. Wasn’t just Gerard singing what seems to be an authorial song, but there's a bass, at least two guitars and drums.

Wasn’t perfect but it sounded incredible in my ears. Hypnotized by the song, I stayed there to the end of it… damn it was really good. Before I could even think, I started to hear some voices that I didn't recognize, except for Gerard’s.

- Yeah, let’s run through it one more time, - He said

- Sure! Maybe we can try the second solo we talked about. - Another voice replied

- Okay Okay, I'm gonna drink something before…

Realizing they’d catch me if I stayed any longer, I hurried back home, my mind still replaying every sound I’d just heard. I was so exhausted that I practically collapsed onto my bed, but even as I drifted off, his voice echoed in my mind.

The next morning, I couldn’t stop humming a part of the song I’d heard. It was catchy, and I kept thinking about how much I wanted to tell Gerard how incredible they sounded.

When lunchtime rolled around, I did what I normally did: sat with the other girls on the cheerleading team, surrounded by the usual crowd of football players. But today felt different. I kept glancing over to where Gerard always sat alone in the corner. His brother went to a different school, and he didn’t really have a group here. I wanted to change that, at least for a moment.

- Hey, where are you going? - one of my friends asked, confused as I got up.

- Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,- I replied, giving her a quick smile before making my way toward Gerard.

He was sitting on the floor, with his lunch next to him, while he flipped through a comic book, completely distracted. I stopped in front of him, and as soon as he noticed me, his gaze went up to my face.

- Hi! Can i sit? - I asked, hoping I didn’t startle him too much.

He took a few seconds to answer, his cheeks turned light red, and he avoided eye contact.

- Uh… s-sure - His tone was shy, but i could feel that he was a bit happy - but your uniform-

- I don't mind. - Smiling, I sat next to him, then explained. - I'll change into normal clothes after lunch anyway.

- If you say so… - a shy smile appeared on his face.

- So… Hey, I heard you singing last night.. - When these words left my mouth, what was a light blush turned into a bright red tone on his face. And his eyes wide -. I didn’t know you were in a band.

- Y-you heard?! - he exclaimed, shock evident in his expression, his eyes met mine.

- Yeah I was walking home and… well we’re neighbors… so… - I tried to explain, with a soft smile, trying not not to scare him off or something.

- Can you please not make fun of this? - He sighed, anguished - Like, yeah, sure, call me weirdo, ask for me to do your homework or else but… can you not mention this?

- Why should I make fun of it?! - Not gonna lie, i feel a bit sad for him thinking of me like this, but i almost yelled - You guys are fucking awesome!

- R-really? Do you think so? - He calmed down, but a bit suspicious - I didn’t know you were into this kind of music…

- I totally am! Do you guys perform anywhere? - I leaned closer, excitement bubbling up. - I would love to see a full show!

- Not yet… - Nervous, he stopped to think - But if you want, you can come over to my house to, y’know, watch us practice… we're going to rehearse tomorrow... if you want to stop by after your practice...

- I would love to! - My smile widened, feeling a rush of anticipation.

After our conversation, I felt a rush of excitement as I got up to head back to my friends. I cast one last glance at Gerard, who was now fiddling nervously with his comic book, his cheeks still slightly pink, but there was a smile in the corner of his lips.

As I approached the table where the cheer squad sat, they looked up, curiosity evident in their expressions.

- Hey, where were you? - my friend asked, raising an eyebrow. - Why were you talking to him?

There was a playful tone in her voice, as if she was implying that I was flirting with him.

- Yeah, what’s his name again? Gerald? - another friend chimed in, a hint of amusement in her tone. - He’s a bit weird, don’t you think?

I hesitated for a moment, considering how to respond. I didn’t want to let on that I had been intrigued by Gerard’s singing. My friends wouldn’t understand, not now, they’d just tease me about it.

- Oh, we were just discussing a class project,- I said, trying to sound casual. - You know how the teachers are always assigning those weird group projects? He has some great ideas.

They exchanged skeptical looks, and I could see they weren’t completely convinced.

- A class project? Really? - She smirked. - You’re not trying to tell me you’ve developed a sudden interest in the ‘weird kid’?

- Come on, he’s just a classmate, - I said, shrugging it off, a smile plastered on my face. - It’s not a big deal.

But inside, I felt a spark of excitement that I couldn’t quite hide. I had made a connection, and even if my friends didn’t get it, I knew I wanted to see Gerard again, especially to hear him sing.

- Yeah, sure. - She said mockingly, getting up - Let’s change our clothes and go back to class.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Gerard’s shy smile and the way his eyes had lit up when I told him he was amazing. That spark of excitement kept me awake longer than I’d like to admit, and by morning, I already had a plan.

The next day , I casually told the girls that I needed to leave school a bit early. But as soon as the words left my mouth, I noticed their expressions shift, mischievous smirks spreading across their faces.

- Oh, leaving early, huh? - She raised an eyebrow, leaning in. - I bet you have a date with your ‘class partner’... I mean, classmates.

- Really funny. - I rolled my eyes - It’s just… homework.

- Sure, I totally believe in it… - She mocked and I blushed - You know, if you’re into him, you can tell us! We won’t judge... much.

I laughed awkwardly, hoping no one noticed.

- C’mon I'm serious, and I gotta go. - I started to pack my things - don’t want to be late.

- Alright, fine. Go hang out with your little ‘project partner.’- Another of my friends said, laughing - Just don’t come back quoting comic books or whatever he’s into.

- See you guys tomorrow. - With a chuckle, I leave the court.

I made my way to Gerard’s house, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. Part of me was still amazed that I was doing this, showing up at the "weird kid’s" house after practically lying to my friends about it. But I couldn’t help it; I was curious, and I wanted to see him in his basement. I knocked on the door and waited, glancing around at the worn porch steps.

The door creaked open, and Gerard stood there, his eyes widening in surprise.

- Oh, hey… you actually came!

- Of course I did,- I replied, giving him a warm smile. - I didn’t say I would if I didn’t mean it.

- Uh, C-cool - His gaze on the floor, and he seems to be nervous - Come on in, then.

As I walked into the house, I heard a voice call out from down the hallway.

- Oh, my big brother brought his cheerleader girlfriend home! - Mikey’s head popped out from around the corner, a teasing grin on his face.

- Mikey, shut up! - Gerard’s face turned bright red, and he stammered, clearly embarrassed. - She’s not- w-we’re not-

- I’m just a fan - I said with a grin, hoping it’d take the pressure off him.

- Yeah, sure. Just a fan.- He raised an eyebrow at Gerard. - Well, the others are already in the basement. I’ll grab my bass and be right down.

I followed Gerard through the house, catching a glimpse of various band posters and comic books strewn around. He opened a door leading down into the basement, where I could already hear faint sounds of tuning guitars.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I spotted Ray and Frank, both of whom looked up in surprise when they saw me. Ray nudged Frank, and they exchanged a smirk.

- Well, well, looks like Gerard brought his cheerleader girlfriend to watch us practice,- Frank teased, waggling his eyebrows.

- Guys, come on… - Gerard groaned, his cheeks going red again. - She’s just here to watch. For the music… y’know…

- Yep, totally for the music! - I chuckled, trying to ease him - You guys were awesome the other night!

- Oh, she’s a fan - Frank said, giving me a wink. - So, we’ve got an audience now. Let’s make it worth it!

- Guess we can’t let Gerard’s cheerleader down. - Ray laughed while tuning the guitar.

Gerard shot them both a glare, but I could see he was smiling a little. We all settled in, and as the band began to play, I couldn’t help but feel like I was exactly where I was meant to be, watching Gerard and his friends create something that felt raw, real, and amazing.

As the guys settled into their instruments, I found myself a spot on an old armchair near the back of the basement. Gerard shot me a quick, nervous glance, as if making sure I was still okay with being there. I gave him an encouraging nod, hoping to ease some of his nerves.

As they played, I was really loving the music and the way each of them put their passion into the song. The lyrics were intense and Gerard's voice was mesmerizing. As the music played, my gaze wandered around the basement, looking at the absurd amount of comic books and CDs that filled several shelves (and the floor), as well as the posters on the walls. But soon my gaze turned to Gerard, and remained analyzing every detail of his performance.

all the mannerisms, the wrinkled sweatshirt, the slightly smudged eyeliner along with the dark circles, the pink lips and the long, messy hair. When the music ended, it took me a few seconds to regain my attention, which only came out of this trance when a voice interrupted my thoughts.

Suddenly, his voice broke through my thoughts.

- So… what did you think? - he asked, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes wide and hopeful. There was this nervous little shine in them that made my heart skip.

- It was amazing! - I said, grinning as I stood up, clapping a little too enthusiastically.

- Really? - He blinked, clearly surprised, and a tiny, bashful smirk crept up at the corner of his mouth.

- Yeah! - I stepped closer, feeling the excitement bubble up. - You guys are actually really good!

- Thanks! - Frank said, giving me a grin. - You should come every time we play!

- You think so? - I asked, hesitating a bit, not wanting to seem like I was intruding.

- Totally! - Mikey jumped in. - You’re a fan, right?

- Definitely! - I laughed, though I worried about my busy schedule. - I can’t promise every time, but I’ll come as much as I can.

Gerard’s face brightened, and for a moment, he looked at me with this big, relieved smile.

- I’d love that-I mean, we’d love that. I mean, it’d be cool to, uh, have you as, like, a regular… fan… - His voice trailed off, and I watched his cheeks turn pink as he realized what he’d said.

He fumbled with his words, his hands fidgeting as he tried to recover.

- I mean, just, it’s cool when you’re around, you know? Not just, like, ‘cause you’re… - He glanced down, clearly searching for words that just weren’t coming. - …It’s just… you’re really supportive, and that’s nice.

I couldn’t help but smile at how cute he was when he got flustered. It was like he didn’t know how to handle a simple compliment, and the more he tried, the more tangled up he got.

Ray chuckled, patting him on the shoulder.

- We get it, dude, - Ray said, smirking. - Breathe.

Gerard let out a shaky sigh, his gaze flicking back to me, the corners of his mouth curling up in a shy smile.

- Anyway, I gotta get going now, - I said, moving toward the door. - But hey, let me know when you’re practicing next?

- Definitely! - Gerard said, looking so relieved, like he’d just passed a test. - I’ll, um… yeah, I’ll let you know.

As I turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of him still staring at me with that hopeful look. It was endearing, the way he looked both thrilled and completely overwhelmed at the idea of me showing up again.

After watching them practice the night before, I couldn't stop thinking about it. So when lunchtime came around, I found myself making my way over to where Gerard was sitting, alone as usual, tucked away near the back wall. He looked up as I approached, his eyes widening slightly, as if he couldn’t believe I’d actually come over again.

- Y-you… really want to sit here? With me? - He stammered, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

- Of course! - I laughed, plopping down on the floor next to him. - My friends won’t stop talking about the last game… as if I wasn’t there!

- Yeah, I guess they’re pretty into that stuff - Gerard cracked a small smile, relaxing a bit as I settled in.

- Too much, if you ask me… - I chuckled - I’d rather talk about something more interesting… like last night. Seriously, you’re incredible! Your voice? Wow.

His cheeks turned pink, and he avoided eye contact with me, but I noticed the thin smile on his face.

- R-really? I mean, I was just, you know… messing around. It’s nothing special.

-Then I can’t imagine how good you’d be if you were actually trying! - I teased, nudging him lightly. He let out a small laugh, clearly embarrassed but pleased. Glancing down, I noticed the comic book he had open. - What are you reading?

He launched into a surprisingly passionate explanation about the storyline, his eyes lighting up as he talked. Our conversation continued, and with each sentence, I felt like he was slowly opening up, sharing little pieces of himself.

By the time the bell rang, I was surprised at how quickly the minutes had flown by. I stood to head to class, but before I could turn away, he took a deep breath, looking like he was gathering every ounce of courage he had.

- Hey, uh, would you… maybe want to come over? Like… after school? Just us, you know, as friends. We could, uh, watch a movie or something?

My heart skipped a beat, and I couldn’t hold back a grin.

- I’d like that. What movie are you thinking of?

- Whatever you like, - he replied quickly, looking relieved and a little flustered. - My mom has some romance ones lying around… or I’ve got horror if you’re into that?

- I’m not that into horror, but maybe we can watch two movies. You pick one, I’ll pick one…

- Perfect! - His blush deepened, but he nodded eagerly. - My place, after school. Just us.

As I went back to the class, I couldn't stop smiling at the thought of being at his house alone with him… At the start, my feelings about him weren't anything more than friendship, but the more time I spent with him, the more I liked him.

The afternoon was completely normal, but everything was drowned out by the idea that I would see him after school. When the last period finally ended, he was waiting for me at the classroom door, so that we could go to his house together. He was looking down, fiddling with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

- A-are you still up for-

- Absolutely! - I answered, flashing him a smile. We headed out of the school together, walking toward his house side by side. As we walked, I felt my heart thumping with a mix of excitement and nerves.

In his basement, which was still the same, maybe a bit more messy, he picked up the movie he chose, but before putting it on the DVD, he glanced at me with an insecure look.

- A-are you sure that you want to watch this? 'Cause… you know… it’s alright if you don’t…

- Nope, this is fine, - I sat on his bed, crossing my legs. - Thanks for inviting me, Gee.

The name slipped out so naturally that I barely noticed at first. But Gerard did. His face flushed immediately, his gaze snapping to me. For a moment, he was speechless, trying to process what he’d just heard.

- Did you just..? Y-You…called me ‘Gee’? - He stammered. The corner of his mouth lifted into a shy smile, and he quickly turned his head, trying to hide his reaction. But he couldn’t stop himself from peeking back at me with an even wider grin.

- Oh! I…hope you don’t mind - I said softly, noticing how happy he looked.

- N-no, it’s… it’s actually… - He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. - I like it.

He sat down next to me and hit play on the remote control, then the movie started. During the movie we exchanged a few glances, and I could feel the atmosphere in the room getting cozier and cozier. In between movies, we chatted a bit about something, but unfortunately the evening ended more quickly than I would have liked.

As I got up to leave, Gerard hesitated for a moment, fidgeting with the edge of his sweater.

- Uh… I could walk you home, you know… since we’re, uh… neighbors and all, - He mumbled, barely meeting her eyes.

- I’d love that.- I smiled warmly, touched by his offer.

We stepped out into the cool evening, walking side by side down the quiet street. Neither of us spoke much, but the silence felt comfortable, filled with the soft sounds of our footsteps. When we finally reached my driveway, I turned to him, pausing for a moment before speaking.

- Thanks for tonight, Gee,

Before he could respond, I wrapped my arms around him in a quick, warm hug. For a second, he froze, his arms awkwardly hovering in the air. But he quickly hugged her back, his face burning as he tried to process what was happening.

- Y-you’re… welcome, - He managed, his voice barely a whisper. He couldn’t stop smiling, even though it looked like his face might actually be on fire.

- Goodnight, Gee. - I said softly, giving him one last smile before turning toward the door.

- Goodnight… -His voice was quieter now, but I could hear the smile in it as he called back. I waved one last time before stepping inside and closing the door behind me.

Damn, maybe I really liked him.

The next morning, I found myself practically floating through the school halls. The memory of last night. The movie, the hug, Gerard's shy smile… kept replaying in my mind. I wasn’t sure what exactly was happening between us, but something about it felt different… and exciting.

But of course, as soon as I walked into the cafeteria, my friends were waiting for me. They practically pounced on me as I sat down, their eyes wide with curiosity.

- Where were you last night? - One of them asked, a teasing grin on her face. - You disappeared after school and didn’t even say goodbye

- Oh, I was just… watching movies with Gee. - I said, trying to play it cool.

The table went silent for a second before they all broke into laughter. She raised an eyebrow, a wicked grin playing on her lips.

- “Gee”?? Really? You’re already calling him “Gee”? Are we going to start planning the wedding soon, or what?

- We’re just friends, okay? It’s not a big deal - I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my blush.

- Yeah sure - She teased.

This teasing lasted the entire meal, but all I could think about was how, despite all this, it was worth every second of the night before.

Those little moments with him, like movie night, kept happening. Moments when he would tell me about the lyrics he was writing, the characters he was creating for the comics and the movies he was watching; I could listen to him talk for hours, because the more he talked, the more excited he seemed.

Whenever I could, I'd go down to his basement to listen to his band rehearsals, and every now and then he'd show up at my practices too.

1st Person POV (Gerard)

Well, another rehearsal with the guys was starting and I was kind of waiting for the “audience”, but it wasn't long before I got a message “Heyy, Gee! I won't be able to make it to rehearsal today. They booked a practice at the last minute, sorry :(”. sighed, feeling that odd, deflated disappointment wash over me. It was strange… I’d never really “needed” someone to be here before.

- Hey, Gerard. Is your girlfriend coming? - Mikey’s voice cut through my thoughts, and his tone, so serious, made me squirm.

- No... - I mumbled, switching off my phone. - And she's not my girlfriend.

- Uhum… - Mikey said with a smirk.

I got up to fix the speaker, while the others tuned their instruments.

- So, Gerard, - Frank began, his voice way too casual, and I already knew what was coming - you and your cheerleader girlfriend going to the big football games this weekend?

My hands went up to my face, which I felt burning.

- Or maybe you’ll take her to one of those fancy parties - My brother is always helping, of course. - You know, all those exclusive high school events she probably gets invited to?

I groaned, trying to ignore them, but I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I didn’t know what to say.

- Oh, or maybe you’ll meet her parents soon - Deep inside I thought that Ray wouldn't keep this going. Well, I was wrong. - You know, ask them for permission to hold her hand!

This wasn’t funny. It felt like everything about me and her was getting dragged into some weird joke. The truth is, I wasn’t even sure what I was doing with her, but this wasn’t helping me figure it out.

While they were joking, it felt like they’d hit on something way too real. I wanted to be around her all the time. I wanted to be someone she could actually like. But hearing them mock it just made it feel… impossible.

- I’ve told you guys, We. Are. Not. Dating! - I said, trying to sound firm, but even to my ears, it sounded like I was trying to convince myself.

- Oh, sure, Gerard. We believe you. Totally. - Ray rolled his eyes. - But you want it, don’t you?

I froze. I could feel my heart racing as I tried to make sense of what he had just said. Did I want it? Was that what this was about? I mean, I liked being around her. I liked talking to her, calling her, texting her... But actually thinking about being with her in that way? The way Ray was implying? I couldn’t even picture it without feeling my stomach twist into knots.

- I- I don’t know, man, - I muttered, feeling more lost by the second. - Even if I did... It’s never gonna happen.

I looked down at my hands, trying to keep my voice steady, but it felt like I was talking to a crowd instead of just my bandmates.

- Do you think she would ever want to be seen with me? Like, really? - My voice cracked a little at the end, I felt like I was about to cry. But I couldn’t help it. I was confused. Terrified, even. - Do you think she’d want someone like me?

- Dude, we didn’t mean to-

- Can we change the subject, please? - I mumbled, blinking fast, feeling that awful sting in my eyes. I looked away, hoping they wouldn’t notice the tears building up.

The truth was, deep down, I thought I might like her. Really like her. But it felt like wanting something that was light-years out of reach. I don't belong in the world she's in, it's all so beautiful, all so fancy, all so tidy, all so put-together... and I'm so wrong, broken, weird... Why would she like me like that?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was scared that this was all a setup, like some cruel joke where she’d suddenly laugh and say, “Just kidding!”, as if she's about to drop a bucket of blood on my head, like in Carry.

But as much as it terrified me, I wanted to keep going, to take it as far as I could… maybe hoping, just a little, that she’d see something in me worth keeping around...

1st Person POV (reader)

After days of building up the courage, I finally managed to catch Gerard in the hallway. He was walking to his locker, absorbed in a comic book as usual, his dark hair falling perfectly over his eyes. My heart was racing, but I couldn’t back out now. Prom was coming up, and I didn’t want to go with anyone else.

- Hey, Gee! - I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out a little too high-pitched.

- Hey! What’s up? - He looked up, smiling when he saw me.

- Um, actually… I was wondering… - I think it was the first time I avoided eye contact with him, scratching the back of my neck. - Would you maybe, I don’t know… want to go to prom with me?

I spoke a little faster than usual, and Gerard’s eyes widened like I’d just spoken in another language. He stood there, staring at me, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.

- Wait-what?!

- Prom - I repeated, now feeling my own cheeks burning. - I know it’s not really your thing, but… I’d really love it if you went with me. We could go together, you know, as friends or… whatever you want it to be.

- You’re serious? - He asked, still staring at me in shock. - You… really want to go with me? Like… with me?

- Yeah, Gerard. - I nodded, giving him a small, nervous smile. - I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to. It wouldn’t be the same without you there.

- But… What about your friends? - He furrowed his eyebrows, with a concerned look on his eyes - Won’t they… won’t people think it’s weird? I mean, you’re… you know… you. And I’m…

I took a step closer to him, placing my hand on his shoulder, and giving him a thin grin.

- I don’t care what they think, Gerard. - He was looking in my eyes, I can't describe his expression… - I want to go with you. I’d be proud to be seen with you.

- You’re… serious? - His hazel eyes were glowing hopefully.

- Yes. - I nodded again, more certain than ever. - So, what do you say?

- I just… wow. - He panted and I shivered, afraid of him saying no - I really didn’t think you’d ever want… someone like me, at something like this.

- Well, I do. - my anxiety grew with every second he didn't answer - You mean a lot to me, Gee.

He finally smiled, shy and unsure but definitely a smile.

- Okay… okay, yeah. I’ll go with you.

- You will? - I grinned, feeling a surge of relief and excitement.

- Yeah,- he said, nodding as if he was trying to convince himself it was real. - I’d… I’d love to go with you.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, and the disbelief and wonder in his eyes made my heart swell. As I turned to head to my locker, I could feel his eyes on me, and I knew this prom would be something neither of us would ever forget.

1st Person POV (Gerard)

I couldn’t focus on anything else the whole day. My mind keeps replaying the sentence “Would you maybe, I don’t know… want to go to prom with me?” during all the classes. When it finally ended, I rushed to my house to meet the guys who were waiting for me to start our band practice. As soon as i steped int the room, i took a deep breath, and started:

- She… she asked me to prom, - I mumbled, scratching the back of my head, barely able to meet their eyes. - Like, she actually asked me.

The room went silent. Frank dropped his tuning fork, and Ray's eyebrows practically shot off his face.

- Holy shit! - Ray smiled - She really invited you?!

- Yeah, but… what if it’s a joke? - Suddenly, this thought came back to me, and I just couldn't hold it in. - I mean, what if she’s just playing some kind of cruel prank on me? Getting me to go so she can… I dunno… laugh at me with her friends or something?

- You’re being silly, dude… - MMikey said, shaking his head with a grin, trying to reassure me. - She really cares about you, I venture to say that she even likes you.

I shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at my worn-out sneakers.

- I just… I don’t know, man. I don’t want to look like an idiot showing up to prom, looking like… well, like me. - I gestured to my faded band shirt and old jeans. - She’s going to show up all… amazing, and I’ll just… I don’t even have clothes for something like that.

- Hey, don’t worry about your clothes. - Frank said, his hand on my shoulder - We’ll help you figure that part out. We can make a cool Gerard version of prom gear.

- I don’t know, guys… - I let out a doubtful sigh, but I couldn't help but feel a little better at their words. - I still feel like I’m walking into some kinda setup.

- Or… maybe it’s not. Maybe she actually likes you and wants to go with you. - Mikey shook his head.

- I guess… I mean, she did seem pretty genuine. But, man, I can’t mess this up.

When I stopped for a while to process everything, and realized that I was so nervous about the idea of her embarrassing me, I didn't realize that I could embarrass her if I did something wrong.

- We’re going to help you get ready for this prom, no question. - Frank keep encouraging me - This is your shot, and you’re gonna look so good, everyone’s gonna wonder why she got so lucky.

I couldn’t help but crack a shy smile, a tiny spark of hope flickering in my chest at his words. I appreciated how they were all backing me up. Still, the nerves didn’t fade. In fact, now I had to find something to wear... and I had no idea where to start.

But maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be a total disaster. Maybe, I thought as I looked at the guys with a nervous but hopeful grin, this might actually turn out to be the best night of my life.

1st Person POV (reader)

The night had finally arrived. My heart was thumping in my chest, and I could feel the butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. The dress I had picked out earlier in the week felt a little too tight now, my nerves making everything feel more intense than usual. I couldn't help but glance at the clock, watching the minutes tick by as I waited for Gerard to arrive.

What was I thinking? Was I making a huge mistake? Would he feel out of place at prom? I shook my head, trying to silence my anxious thoughts. I had asked him because I wanted him there. I didn’t care about what everyone else would think, and if he felt out of place, well, I hoped my presence would help him feel comfortable.

Then, finally, the doorbell rang. My heart skipped a beat, and I rushed to open the door, only to freeze for a moment when I saw him standing there.

Gerard looked... different. He was wearing a simple black suit, not too formal but definitely better than what I had imagined. His hair was styled neatly, but it still had that messy, Gerard charm. He looked slightly nervous, his hands shoved in his pockets, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. The nervous smile he gave me made my heart melt a little.

- Hey,- He said softly, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

- Hey, - I replied, suddenly feeling shy too. - You look… you look great.

- I do? - His eyes widened in surprise.

- Yeah, you’re handsome - I nodded, fighting the blush creeping up my neck.

- Thanks... You look… wow. Really beautiful - He scratched the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes as if he was embarrassed by the compliment.

- Are you ready to go?

- Sure!

The ride to prom felt like a blur. We didn't talk much—both of us were too nervous, I think. When we finally arrived, my friends were already waiting near the entrance, their eyes scanning the crowd as they laughed and joked. As soon as they saw me with Gerard, they froze, their expressions shifting in surprise.

- Oh my God, look who finally decided to show up! - one of them teased. - I knew it! You like him, don’t you?

- You’ve been denying it this whole time, but now it’s so obvious - My face immediately turned bright red. I opened my mouth to protest, but she wasn’t finished.

- You’ve been denying it this whole time, but now it’s so obvious. - All of them kinda laughed.

Gerard was standing a little behind me, looking equally embarrassed, his face flushed. I could feel his discomfort radiating off him, and I could tell that these comments were making him more self-conscious. He shifted on his feet, nervously running a hand through his hair.

I held his hand so we could walk inside. But my moves were interrupted by my friends.

- You guys look cute together, though. Admit it, you like him! - another one of them chimed in, her voice teasing, but with a hint of sincerity.

Once inside, we quickly found our seats at a table. The music was blasting, the lights dimmed, and the air was filled with the sound of chatter, laughter, and the occasional loud cheer from some of the other students. I could feel Gerard stiffening beside me, but I just kept my hand on his, hoping to offer some kind of reassurance. He looked around nervously, his wide eyes scanning the room as though he didn’t belong.

- Are you okay - I asked, in an attempt to comfort him.

- I don’t know…- he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the music. - I mean, I’m glad I’m here with you, but this is… definitely not my scene. You’re the only one who could ever get me to come to a place like this.

I laughed, feeling my heart flutter. I didn’t think he realized just how much that meant to me. The night was already feeling more perfect than I could have ever imagined.

Then, as the slow songs started, the room filled with couples swaying gently to the music. Gerard and I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Finally, he broke the silence.

- I’ve never really done this before… - he said quietly.

- Me neither. - I smiled at him.

And just like that, the awkwardness faded. He pulled me closer, and we started swaying together. He was still a little nervous, but he held me close, and I could feel his warmth, his pulse beating along with mine.

As the song came to a close, Gerard looked down at me, his face flushed. He cleared his throat, trying to hold back his nervousness.

- Thanks for making this the best night ever, - Gerard whispered, his forehead resting against mine.

This… - He hesitated for a second, then smiled shyly - seems like the first time I watched Corpse Bride for the first time… Awesome.

I giggled, then, without saying a word, Gerard leaned down and kissed me. It was soft, gentle, messy, romantic… everything I had imagined and more. He pulled away slowly, his eyes wide with surprise, as if he couldn’t believe he had just done that.

We stood there, not caring about the world around us. It was just the two of us, caught in the moment, and in that instant, everything felt right.

- You're welcome - I whispered back.

Smiling, I move to his lips again. His warm lips felt just right, now his hand came up to my cheek, as I wrapped my arms around his neck. This kiss was more confident, like something we both were sure that we wanted. I swear, I've never thought I would end up with Gerard like this… but there is no other place that I would rather be.

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~ So, that's it! Let me know if u like it! (i'm not sure if i liked this one...)

#gerard way x reader #gerard way #mcr #my chemical romance #basement gerard way

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