#It looks like a stuffed animal oh my god...

[starvrse]

CARNIVAL

| pairing : daniela avanzini x fem!reader

| summary : errr u and ur gf go to a fair and u get jealous or wtv

| warnings : g!p daniela, jealousy, p in v, no protection, impregnating talk, ass slapping, cursing, car sex, etc.

| unnecessary bs : 3k words 🙏 glaze me again

walking through the fair, hand in hand with your girlfriend, daniela. the evening air was warm, and the lights of the rides blinked in vibrant colors around you, casting soft glows on the crowd. you had just gotten off the rollercoaster, and now you were both reliving the adrenaline rush. “honestly, that wasn’t even scary, like, at all” you said, replaying the whole ride in your head.

daniela raised an eyebrow, her smile playful but teasing. “don’t even lie!” she grinned, giving you a nudge. “you were screaming so loud, i could hear you over the whole thing.���

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “i was just vocalizing my excitement.” you said, trying to sound confident.

“vocalizing?” she laughed. “babe, you were straight up shrieking—and you were squeezing my arm so tight, i thought my circulation was gonna cut off!”

you both burst into laughter, walking a little slower now as you shared the moment. “i was just making sure you didn’t fall off the ride.” you joked. daniela laughed lightly, looking down at you. “yeah, right,” she said, still grinning. “i think i’m the one who was keeping you from flying off the coaster with that tight ass grip.”

you sucked your teeth playfully, the conversation dying down. leaving the two of you to walk in a comfortable silence.

as you got closer to the food stands, the scents of sizzling, sweet, and savory foods hit you all at once. your stomach gave an eager rumble, instantly reacting to the aromas drifting through the air.

“babe, it smells so good over here,” you said, your voice almost wistful as your mouth began to water. daniela let out a soft hum of agreement, her eyes scanning the stalls. “i know, right?” she replied, already looking hungry.

“oh my god! we have to get one,” you pointed at the stall that had “funnel cakes” in big, bold red letters. “it’s basically a requirement at the fair.”

daniela laughed, her eyes practically glowing. “oh, 100%. but like, extra powdered sugar,” she grinned, already picturing the perfect funnel cake in her head. “i want it to look like a snowstorm.”

“you’re gonna be in a sugar coma by the time we’re done.” you said to her, chuckling.

“worth it.” she said, glancing at the stand. “but damn baby, this line’s mad long.”

you shrugged, already stepping toward the back of the line. “it’s okay, i’ll wait. you can go mess with the claw machines or something.”

she gave you a look, raising an eyebrow. “you sure?” she asked, taking out a 50 dollar bill from her back pocket after you gave her a nod of approval. “i’ll win you a stuffed animal.”

“only if it’s a giant bear.” you teased, taking the money from her hand.

“say less.” she grinned, pecking your lips before walking off toward the claw machines that weren’t too far away.

-

finally, after what felt like 13 years, you were 3rd in line to get your funnel cake. not like you were counting, but it definitely took longer than expected. looking around, you didn’t see daniela anywhere, so you figured she was still messing with the machines.

when you got your funnel cake; extra powdered sugar, just like she asked. you made your way over to where the claw machines were. and then you saw it.

daniela, laughing—no, giggling way too hard with some girl who was clearly flirting with her. the girl’s hand was casually resting on daniela’s shoulder, and they were definitely way too into whatever was going on. the way daniela’s head tipped back, eyes sparkling… you felt this weird, hot twist in you stomach.

feeling that familiar annoyance rise up, even though you knew you had no reason to be mad. she was allowed to laugh, right? but the way she was acting with this girl made you feel like you were just… there. holding the funnel cakes like some kinda afterthought.

you tried to brush it off, but it was hard. that stupid, jealous feeling in the pit of your stomach wouldn’t go away. you gripped the plate a little tighter, walking over to her with more force than you intended.

as you got closer, you noticed the girl holding a plushie, a giant, stuffed unicorn. and then it clicked. daniela was the one who’d won it for her.

“you having fun?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual, but it came out a little sharper than you meant.

daniela turned around, her face lighting up when she saw you. “yn! look! i won her the unicorn!” she said, holding it up, proud as hell.

the girl beside her giggled. “seriously, she’s amazing at this. i’ve never seen anyone get it on the first try.”

you forced a smile, your eyes narrowing a little. “yeah, looks like she’s really good at it.”

daniela didn’t seem to notice your tone, beaming as she looked from the girl to you. “i know, right? i’ve got mad skills. gotta teach you my ways.”

you nodded, still holding the funnel cake in one hand, but now you were just waiting to get out of there. Was she always this touchy with random girls? you couldn’t stop the thought from running through your head.

“here dani, thought you’d want this before it gets cold.” you said a little harsher than you wanted to.

daniela took the plate, but the smile she gave you felt a little off. as if she was trying to gauge if you were mad or not. and honestly? you were.

“is something wrong..?” she finally let out after examining your tone and facial expressions.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you turned, starting to walk toward the car, your steps maybe a little too quick, a little too angry.

daniela hesitated for a second, glancing back at the girl, “hey, i’ll follow you back later, okay?” she stated, then followed after you.

“bro, slow down!” you heard your girlfriend yell from behind you.

you didn’t slow down, your mind racing, and your jaw clenching at her words. you didn’t want to explain it, didn’t want to seem petty. so instead, you kept walking, arms crossed tightly in front of you.

“come on, don’t walk off like that. what’s going on?” she questioned, slightly jogging so she could be closer to you.

“nothing’s wrong, daniela. just tired,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, but your voice was tight.

“uh-huh.” her voice was softer now, but you could hear the concern. you didn’t know if you wanted her to chase you down or leave you alone. either way, you were pissed.

when you reached the car, you slammed the door a little harder than you meant to.

the latter slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind her (way softer than you did). she tossed the funnel cake onto the dashboard, its powdered sugar already threatening to spill, and then just stared at you. the silence between you two was thick, and suffocating. waiting for something to break it.

you shifted in your seat, unable to handle the tension. “the fuck are you doing? drive.” you muttered, your gaze fixed on the windshield.

daniela didn’t move, her eyes still locked on you, unfazed. “i’m not driving until you tell me what’s up with you.” she said, her voice low but firm.

you let out a sharp breath, refusing to meet her gaze. “i’m fine.” you muttered, staring out the window.

she raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “you’re fine?” she repeated, her tone flat. “okay, cool. then tell me why the fuck you’re acting like I just killed your dog.”

you stayed quiet, jaw clenched, your eyes still glued to the window. you didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain the frustration building up inside you.

daniela's patience wore thin, and her voice rose slightly. "oh, so now you're just gonna ignore me?" she snapped. "fine. don't say shit, but if you're gonna act like this, you can get out and walk."

you didn't respond, but you could feel the anger starting to boil. you were pissed, but you didn't want to yell. silence felt safer.

"no?" she barked. "then get in the fucking backseat."

daniela heard the scoff as you made your way toward the back, but what she didn’t see was the smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. you could already tell where this was headed, and while it wasn’t exactly the healthiest choice right now, it was clear that you both needed to let off some steam.

soon, the blonde joined you in the backseat, her hand tenderly gripping your waist, pulling you onto her lap. her slender fingers found their way to your neck, harshly guiding your lips to meet hers in a searing kiss. the intensity of her anger fueling a primal need. her body pressed against yours, kissing you in a rough manner.

the car fills with the sound of your bodies shifting, fabric rustling, and harsh breaths as you both grapple for control. daniela’s grip on your waist tightens, her fingertips digging into your skin, while your hands tangle in her hair, pulling roughly.

she broke the kiss to speak, "you always do this, you know. you always shut down and refuse to talk.” she punctuated each word by grinding you a little harder against her thigh, the denim of her jeans rubbing against the thin fabric of your safety shorts.

you whimpered at the friction, tangling your hands in her curly hair, while you bucked your hips on her leg, needing more.

as daniela’s words fade into the background, you can't help but focus on the sensation of her leg between yours, the friction sparking a fire within you. you grind against her harder, the heat building between your legs, and you let out a soft moan, your head falling back against the seat.

daniela’s hand leaves your waist, trailing down your thigh, her fingers brushing against your inner leg, teasingly close to where you need her most.

you can feel the heat of her hand, her fingers inching closer to your center, your body aching for more. you lift your hips slightly, silently begging for her to touch you there, to quench the growing flame inside you. your breath hitches as her fingertips finally graze your mound through your shorts, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

daniela’s fingers find the edge of your shorts, her touch dancing along the hem. she leans in, her breath hot on your neck as she whispers, "Is this what you want?" her fingers tease, dipping slightly beneath the fabric, but not enough to satisfy the growing ache. you let out a soft, frustrated sound, arching your hips upwards, trying to encourage her to go further.

your body aches for more, your hips grinding against her leg, seeking friction and release. her fingers continue to tease the edge of your shorts, brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, yet never quite giving you the satisfaction you crave.

"you want it, don't you?" her fingers slip further under your shorts, tracing the edge of your panties. you can feel the heat of her hand, fingers inching closer to where you need her most. "tell me," she breathes, her lips brushing against your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. "tell me you want it."

your hips move with the rhythm of her hand, pushing against it, seeking more. "yes," you whisper, your voice hoarse with desire, "I want it."

“too bad.” she says, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine as she slowly pulled her hand away, leaving you empty and aching.

your whimper of protest was audible as she withdrew her touch, the loss of her hand making you press harder into her thigh for friction. “now you wanna make noise huh?” Her voice was a husky purr, full of tease.

she watched you with a heated gaze, her eyes flicking down to where you were still pressed against her thigh, seeking relief. she spread her legs slightly, allowing you more room to grind against her. “you're so desperate for it, aren't you?”

you could feel the frustration building up inside you, your moves becoming more urgent against her thigh. “stop being an asshole and fuck me already!' you said desperately, your nails digging into her shoulders.

the latina rolled her eyes in exasperation at your demands, but she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. “you're so demanding” she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

with a swift movement, daniela lifted you off her lap and maneuvered you into a new position. “hands and knees” she commanded, guiding you into place. the cool leather against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat emanating from her body as she positioned herself behind you.

She hiked up your skirt, pulling your shorts and underwear down, revealing your bare bottom to the cool night air. she ran a hand over the curve of your backside, then, without warning, she delivered a sharp slap to your left cheek.

you yelped at the sudden contact, your body jolting forward. the pain quickly morphed into pleasure as she began to massage the reddened skin. “so sensitive,” she commented, her fingers drifting between your legs to tease your wet folds. “and soaking wet.”

she rubbed the evidence of your arousal against your thigh before aligning herself behind you again. “spread your legs wider” she ordered, her voice low and demanding. you complied, feeling the cool air against your most intimate area.

she pulled down her jeans and moved her fingers to your hips tightly. “you want me to fuck you like this, don't you?' she growled, pressing herself against you. “in the backseat of my car like a common whore.”

you arched your back provocatively, pressing against her boner teasingly. “then fuck me like one,” you challenged breathlessly, casting a sultry glance over your shoulder. “show me how well you can handle the slut in the backseat.”

her breath caught in her throat at your bold words. “such filthy words coming from that pretty mouth..” she retorted, pulling her boxers down. and without warning, she plunged inside you, making you gasp loudly. she bit her lip at the feeling of your cunt around her, starting a steady rhythm, she gripped your hips harder. “you’re not so tough now, are you?”

you moaned loudly, the sound bouncing off the car walls. “shut up and keep fucking me.” you argued back, pushing back against her to meet her thrusts. the force of her movements made the car rock, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

your moans grew louder and more desperate as she continued to pound into you, one hand moving to grip your hair roughly. “oh- fuck— god, dani!—don't stop!'"

daniela's other hand reached around to rub your clit, her fingers pressing hard against the sensitive nub as she fucked you mercilessly. your body shook with the force of her movements, your legs trembling on the seat.

the taller’s face was contorted with pleasure, her jaw clenched as she tried to muffle her own moans. “damn it…you're so fucking tight.” she groaned, her hips jerking forward erratically.

pleasure clouded dani’s mind, and she delivered a hard smack to your ass, the enjoyable pain making you moan and hang your head low.

“s-shit!” she screamed, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking your head back. She pounded into you even harder, her other hand smacking your ass repeatedly.

she hissed in your ear, her breath hot and heavy, “you love it don't you? you always take me so well,” she kisses and sucks on your neck, “just obsessed with this dick, right?” trailing her tongue over a spot on your shoulder, teasing it before sinking her teeth in gently. a giggle escapes her lips as your startled gasp fills the air.

she continued, each thrust accompanied by a filthy phrase, “that’s right, take it—take every inch. you're such a good little slut...” her whimpers sounded like music to your ears. “s-so wet—so tight...does it feel good? does my cock feel good in your cunt?”

you arched your back even more, pressing yourself against her as she filled you completely. “y-yes. dani…” you blubbered, your words slurring with pleasure, 'it—it feels so good n’ d-deep!”

daniela gripped your hair tighter, slamming into you with all her force. “shit…that’s right, baby... take that big dick... show me how much you can handle...” your body trembled uncontrollably, your moans turning into screams of pure ecstasy as your hands clawed the leather seats.

the windows of the car fogged up as the vehicle rocked violently with each thrust. daniela's sweat dripped onto your back as she drove into you relentlessly. “listen to those filthy noises you're making…so pretty..”

your moans grew louder, more urgent, as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “fuck! dani i-i'm gonna cum!” you screamed, your body convulsing as a powerful orgasm ripped through you.

daniela's thrusts became erratic, her hips jerking forward as she chased her own climax. “holy shit yn, imma put a baby in you, gonna’ fill you up so good...” She groaned, her body shaking as she came hard, her juices flooding your already overflowing hole.

she collapsed on top of you, her breath coming in heavy pants. 'fuck...that was so good.” she murmured, still slowly thrusting through her aftershocks, her hand possessively resting on your stomach.

after a moment, daniela slowly pulled her length out of you, a string of your mixed fluids following. she watched hungrily as your swollen, pink folds slowly closed around the absence of her length.

you flopped back onto the car seat, your legs hanging limply over the edge. your breath came in shallow pants, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. “fuck dani…”

daniela chuckled at your exhausted state, “answer me, yeah? you ready to talk about your problem now that i’ve fucked the brains out of you?”

she waited for a response, her eyebrow raised. but you could only manage a weak, breathless whimper. daniela smirked, satisfied with your silence. 'i'll just wait…" she noted, pulling up her underwear and jeans, not bothering to zip them up again.

daniela settled in beside you, casually draping your exhausted legs over her lap. her fingers absently kneaded your tender ass cheeks, relishing the subtle bruises forming there—the physical map of her passionate assault.

she smirked, enjoying the view of your thoroughly ravaged body sprawled out next to her. "looks like my princess is gonna need a few more minutes before she can form words again."

head so good she a honor roll 😋 finally dropped i hope this feels like playboi carti dropping an album 🙏🙏 ngl i forgot reader had a skirt on still so 😅

[goldfades]

okay idk if you’re still writing for the manager series but if you are i think it would be really cute to write one about a team christmas party or christmas diner!! tysm ily bye bye

(there's a fic coming soon dont worry)

oh my god, a team christmas party would be absolutely chaotic and adorable at the same time. let me set the scene:

manager’s office has turned into the north pole in the week leading up to the party because she’s in charge of organizing everything. she’s got lists on lists—decorations, secret santa assignments, food orders—and every five minutes someone’s popping in like, “hey, can we add gingerbread houses to the itinerary?” (it’s kk, always kk).

on the day of the party, the locker room is decked out in twinkling lights, fake snow, and stockings with each player’s name on them (manager’s handiwork, obviously). caroline and azzi are her right-hand women, helping set everything up while paige “supervises” with a santa hat tilted sideways on her head.

the secret santa exchange is pure chaos. paige gifts manager a hoodie with “world’s best coach manager” on it, and she’s smirking like, “it’s true, isn’t it?” manager rolls her eyes but is secretly touched. kk’s gift to azzi is a handmade ornament that says “sniper,” and jana somehow ends up with a stuffed animal that sarah insists looks just like her.

dinner is chef’s kiss. manager made a bunch of the food herself because she doesn’t trust the team not to set the kitchen on fire. everyone’s whining like, “manager, can you just cook for us forever?” paige is already scheming to take leftovers back to her dorm.

after dinner, it’s game time—charades, pictionary, and the most competitive ugly sweater contest of all time. kk shows up in a sweater that literally lights up, and paige’s sweater has a picture of her face photoshopped onto santa’s body. manager tries to stay impartial as a judge but ultimately gives the win to azzi, whose sweater is simple yet iconic. (she bribed manager with a cup of hot cocoa beforehand, obviously).

the night ends with everyone gathered around the tv watching Home Alone while sipping hot chocolate. paige keeps trying to steal marshmallows from manager’s cup, and manager’s like, “i swear to god, paige, if you don’t stop—” but she’s too cozy and happy to actually care.

the girls are sprawled out on couches, blankets piled everywhere, and manager can’t help but smile because even though this job drives her insane sometimes, these moments make it all worth it 💕

[vaniliens]

whiskey !!!!

Awwww 😭😭😭 ITS SO CUTE AND FLUFFY AWWWW 🥰🥰🥰

[pebblezone]

Living life yay huzzah yay

[kylewalker-peters]

dad's just come home from the shops and bought me an elephant toy because he saw it and thought of me something something no one will ever love you like your parents do something something

[your-funky-human-companion]

i kicked my stuffy down the hall and felt immeasurable amounts of physical, mental, and emotional pain

[gh0stsp1d3r]

would you write dark!rafe x kidnapped!maybank!reader who’s developing stockholm syndrome & when the pogues find her shes worried about him cause jj hit him & he’s bleeding & doesn’t want to leave with them. rafe is all cocky about it but they forcefully take her home

- DEBT

div below by @/miuji, div above by @/cafekitsune

WARNINGS: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, dark!rafe, fighting, mentions of guns, blood, like one use of the word “good girl.” Reader is hinted at to be a little naive/dumb… Yeahh… this is fucked up I love it

AUTHORS NOTE: this is definitely not an accurate representation of Stockholm syndrome, but I tried my best ! Not proofread

Technically, this wasn’t even supposed to be the plan.

Him and Barry were meant to barge in, cover both ends of the house, and steal their money back. If JJ was there, one of them would keep him down. It was a solid plan, in their opinion.

Although, they had forgotten to take another factor into consideration. You.

JJ had mostly kept you shielded from the world, despite you being his older sister, he still cared about you and wanted to protect you. You’ve already been through so much with your dad, why add onto it? You took care of him before, now he’s taking care of you.

You were sitting on the bed, a book in front of your face with no care in the world. You had your headphones on full blast, mostly to block out the noise of the broken fridge and the noise of passing cars along the road near your house.

“Looks empty.” Barry spoke, Rafe nodding at him, pursing his lips.

“I’ll cover the rooms.” Rafe spoke, his heavy footsteps walking towards the narrow hallway. He paused for a moment when he heard the sound of faint music playing through one door, pushing his ear to the door.

He pulled his gun out, cocking it, fully preparing for JJ to be there.

When he opened the door, he wasn’t met with the sight of the blonde boy. Instead, he was met with the sight of pink walls and a white bed, with stuffed animals lined all on the back.

You looked up at him, letting out a scream and dropping your book. You raced to the drawer you knew had a gun hidden in it, but he was quicker, grabbing your wrist and holding it in a tight grip.

He pinned you down onto the bed, causing you let out a cry that was muffled when he put his hand over your mouth.

“Shut up, shut up!” He whisper yelled, you looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Yo, Rafe! What the fuck happened?” Barry asked as he barged into the room, looking between you and Rafe. You were sobbing at this point, confused and fearful.

“Shit…” he said with a rather amused chuckle, “Looks like we got ourselves somethin’ better than the money.”

Rafe ignored him, turning to look down at you now.

“If I take my hand off of your mouth, will you scream?”

You shook your head frantically, him letting go and holding his hands up, still pinning you to the bed. You looked between him and Barry, fear evident on your face. “What do you want?” You sobbed out, your voice broken.

God, you were pretty when you cried, Rafe thought to himself.

“We want to know where your brother put our damn money.” Barry spoke from behind Rafe.

“What- what money? I don’t know why you’re talking about.” You answered honestly.

Barry tsked, “It’s a nice lil room you got here, princess. Would hate for somethin’ to happen to it.” He spoke, picking a stuffed animal up off your bed.

“I’m being honest! I swear! He-he said something to his friend about him taking it somewhere, but I swear, I don’t know anything else!” You exclaimed, Rafe staring down at you, lightly shoving you further into the bed when you raised your voice.

“Don’t yell.”

“Oh, we believe you, sweetheart. But that’s the problem. See, your brother owes us a debt. A large one.” Barry murmured, “And if we don’t get our money… well… we need to take something, you know? Just to let him know we’re serious.”

Rafe looked to him with a furrowed eyebrow now.

“No, no, no, no-“ you began, “Please- I can-“

“Shh. Shh.” He told you, pressing a finger to his own lips. “I get it, you know, rough situation. But, until your brother gets us that money, I’m afraid we’re still owed somethin’. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Barry looked to Rafe, nodding. Rafe got off of you, pulling you off of the bed, and grabbed your hands, using a bandana, JJ’s bandana, off the floor, tying your arms and legs, and dragging you out of the house and throwing you into his truck.

You overheard a conversation up front with the two.

“Nah, man, I can’t keep her-“

“Bro, I live in a fucking trailer park. You live in a goddamned mansion.” Barry pointed to Rafe. “I ain’t got no room at my place. And if the cops come lookin’ for her, they more likely to trust you.”

Rafe sighed, nodding for a moment. “Shit, shit, alright.”

For weeks you fought against Rafe, screaming and yelling at him whenever you could.

You were tied up to the edge of his bed, so he could always keep an eye on you. Most of the time, he got annoyed, lashed out, and ended up putting tape over your mouth to shut you up.

You got tired, exhausted of fighting him. And you found yourself… simply letting go. It felt so much easier to do that, so much easier to listen, just so you wouldn’t have to hear his abuse.

There was ever so often he had a little compassion and sympathy for you. He would spoon feed you when you found yourself not eating or refusing to, and he would untie you when you complained about how your wrists hurt, letting you roam around the house, with him by your side, of course.

He even started to give you rewards for being a “good girl” as he said, dessert, time outside with him, little kisses on the forehead. It was his way of conditioning you.

You became dependent on him during your stay at Tannyhill, forcing you to become even closer with the boy.

And honestly, you learned to like it. Because that’s what you had to do in order to survive.

While Rafe was much more lenient now, even letting you sleep on his bed with him, though still tyed up, there was one thing he would not let you have.

Screen time.

Your face was plastered on the local news, a sweet little picture of you and your brother, your arms wrapped around each other, with a beaming smile on your face.

Shoupe even got on the news to talk about latest developments in the case- and there was only one that pointed to Rafe.

One of your neighbors squeaked and spoke about how they heard screaming coming from the house after they saw a black pick up truck drive past them. The sweet old neighbors went to check on you, but you weren’t home.

JJ spoke desperately, pointing to the picture as well, before the news switched to some other story.

Rafe clicked his teeth as he watched the news story, turning off the tv and making sure all his doors were locked. There’s no way someone would pick up on that. A black pick up truck could be anyone on the outer banks.

Sarah was the one to point out the fact that Rafe had a black pick up truck, and it was then that they realized that they had stolen from him and Barry.

JJ hopped on his bike, revving his engine and breaking a few speeding laws as he drove to figure eight.

You were sitting on the floor when Rafe walked back in, he grabbed your wrists, untying you, and making you stand up. He threw you over his shoulder, you letting out a surprised yelp at the action.

As soon as he went downstairs, he heard frantic knocking on the door, shouting and yelling of his name. Your head shot up, recognizing the voice.

“JJ?”

“Shit.” He mumbled, looking around for a moment, before looking to a closet. He shoved you in there, you looking around the large closet. He turned off the light, you looking at him now.

He put his finger to his mouth, telling you to be quiet. “Stay here, alright? You know what’s gonna happen if you don’t.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump that formed in your throat, his warning hanging in the air as he shut the door to the closet, leaving you in the dark.

He walked to the front door, looking through the peephole to find JJ, Pope, John B, Sarah and Kie all standing outside. He was outnumbered, whether he’d like to admit it or not.

“The fuck do you want?” Rafe shouted, the pausing stopping for a moment.

“We know you have my sister!” JJ shouted angrily, “Where the fuck is she?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Rafe feigned confusion. “Are you serious right now?! You- you come here, asking me for your sister, a-accusing me of kidnapping her?! With no proof!” He stammered, his back facing the door, biting his nails, a nervous habit he’d picked up.

“You’re lying! Someone saw a black pick up truck at the house. We know it was you, Rafe!” Sarah shouted now.

“Listen, if you guys don’t leave, I’m gonna call the cops.”

“Then open the door! Prove it.” John B spoke now. Rafe thought for a moment, glancing at the hallway the closet was in, and sighing. He turned around, knowing they would be relentless and wouldn’t leave unless he opened the door, and turned the door knob.

“Happy?” He retorted, opening the door wide to show the empty house, although, it was then that JJ saw a figure peeking behind the wall.

“Y/n!” He exclaimed, your eyes widening and you retreating back inside, away from the door. Rafe looked back, his jaw clenching.

JJ bit the inside of his cheek, before he balled his hands into a fist, and threw a punch at Rafe.

Rafe chuckled as he took a step back, his hands going to his face, wiping off blood from his nose.

“You wanna go, Maybank?” He sneered, towering over the boy. He stepped outside, and got punched in the face again, before the both of them tumbled to the ground, John B joining in as well.

You watched the scene, your heart pounding against your chest and your eyes locked in on Rafe, getting hit and trying to hit your brother and his friend back.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You ran outside, shouting JJ’s name. He paused, all movement stopping to look at you. JJ got off of Rafe, going to hug you before you avoided him, stepping away from him.

Rafe had a small smile on his face, standing up as well. He stood next to you, you looking up at him with a small frown on your face.

JJ watched with his jaw slack as he watched you fret over Rafe, standing on your tippy toes and using your sweater sleeve to wipe the blood off his face.

“What the fuck? Y/n! He kidnapped you!” JJ exclaimed.

“Sorry, man. Guess your sister just…” he clicked his teeth, “likes me more.” He looked down at you with a cocky smile on his face, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You looked to JJ now, Rafe mumbling to you how he’s okay, and it’s nothing to worry about.

“Y/n… please- I know you want to go home.”

You glanced back up at Rafe, staring up at him for a moment, and turning back to JJ.

“He’s a good guy, Jay.” As soon as the words left your mouth, Rafe was grinning a like the chesire cat and the pogues looked even more confused.

“What the fuck?” John B mumbled under his breath, Sarah looking at Kiara with worry on both their faces.

In Popes mind, he was working out what this could be. That’s when it popped into his mind, the term. He’s learned it before through some book he read, his eyes drifting to Rafe.

“W-what? What are you talking about, y/n?” JJ asked, “Whatever- whatever mind control shit he did to you, it isn’t real, alright?”

“She has Stockholm syndrome.” Pope murmured, all eyes snapping to him now. Rafes eyes narrowed.

“Look, whatever bullshit you guys think I did to her, I didn’t, alright? So just..” he waved his hand, “go back to your side of the island, I don’t wanna see you here until I got my money, alright? Then we can talk ‘bout...” Rafe glanced at you. “But hey, that’s even if she wants to go back with you.”

JJ didn’t waste another moment, running towards Rafe and tumbling onto the ground with him, getting into the second fight of the day with him. You stepped back, shouting Rafe’s name, when you felt arms around your waist.

You screamed again, feeling someone pick you up off of the ground and throw you over their shoulder, you hitting your fists and kicking them.

“Let me go!”

John B threw you into the car, him shouting JJs name. They all got into the Twinkie, you being practically held down again, watching through the windows as Rafe stood up, his hand holding his jaw.

He panted, looking at the car, he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

He would get you and his money back, he’s sure of it.

Taglist:

@moonssyrup @koibleufish @anamiad00msday @wearemadeofstardust0

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited

➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write

logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”

“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).

“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.

you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.

he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.

“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.

“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”

the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”

you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.

“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”

“it’s a gift! you keep those!”

“oh… right…”

he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions. 

“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?” 

the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”

“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”

“first what??”

“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?”

“i have to name it?”

“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.

“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”

“that’s such a shitty name—”

“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”

[pucksandpower]

La Regina

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

Summary: a girl raised at her father’s knee goes from rising star to princess to queen (or in which becoming a legend runs in the Schumacher family)

You bounce excitedly in the passenger seat of your papa’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the karting track. At 5-years-old, you’re too young to race officially, but he promised to let you drive some practice laps after the scheduled competition today.

“Remember, Maus, listen closely to the instructors and stay safe out there,” Michael says, ruffling your hair affectionately before getting out.

You scramble out after him, having to jog to keep up with his long strides across the parking lot. You reach to take his hand, but freeze when a small crowd starts converging around your papa. Men in bright vests are rushing over, cameras flashing rapidly.

“Whoa, what’s going on?” You ask, startled by the commotion.

Before Michael can respond, a curly-haired woman thrusts a baby into his arms. “Oh my god, can you just hold her for one second? I need a picture!”

Your papa looks bewildered but graciously cradles the infant, giving an awkward smile as more and more people start shoving pieces of paper and pens in front of him.

“Excuse me, please, I have my daughter with me today,” he tries saying over the chaos, but no one is listening.

You shrink back, overwhelmed by the pushing crowd and flurry of voices pleading for autographs and photos. Where did all these people come from? This has never happened before when you’ve gone karting with your papa.

Sensing your unease, Michael gently passes the baby back to its mother and kneels down in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay, Maus. Why don’t you wait for me over there?” He gestures to a bench off to the side.

Part of you wants to cling to him, scared of all the strangers crowding around so aggressively. But you also don’t want him to have to worry about you on top of everything else. You nod bravely and make your way through the throng to the little bench, watching apprehensively as your papa tries politely handling the requests.

After what feels like forever, the crowd finally starts dispersing, though a few linger behind like stubborn cats begging for scraps. Michael shakes the last few hands and accepts some papers to sign before gratefully escaping over to you.

“I’m so sorry about that, Maus,” he says, looking apologetic as he plops down on the bench. “I didn’t expect such a scene on what’s supposed to be our fun day.”

“It’s okay, Papa.” You lean against his side, still a bit rattled but comforted by his familiar warmth. “Who were all those people? Why did they want your … uhh …“ You can’t quite remember the word for the scribbles people ask famous people for.

“Autographs,” Michael supplies with an amused chuckle, wrapping an arm around you. “And they wanted photos too, I suppose. I’m … well, I’m quite a famous racecar driver.”

You cock your head, trying to process this concept of your papa being some kind of celebrity. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just your goofy, loving dad who takes you karting and makes the silliest voices for all your stuffed animals at home.

“Really? Like the famous famous people on TV?” You’ve seen the paparazzi swarming the actors and musicians during awards shows, but you’d never imagined that could happen to your own papa.

Michael nods, drawing you closer with a squeeze. “Yes, somewhat like that, though it’s a bit excessive at a small karting event.” He laughs again and brushes some of your wayward hair from your face. “But you’re right, to you I’m just Papa. I don’t expect anything more from my favorite Maus.”

You beam at the affectionate nickname, all the earlier stress melting away. Who cares if strangers want your papa’s autograph or photos? All that matters is you two spending the day together like always.

“Can we go get our karts now?” You ask eagerly, bouncing a little on the bench. “I want to show you how fast I can go!”

“Of course!” Michael jumps up and scoops you into his arms with a playful growl, making you shriek giddily. “My little speed demon is going to leave me in the dust.”

He swings you up onto his shoulders and you cling on tightly as he strides toward the pit area. A few more people spot him and make a move closer with cameras and sharpies extended, but seem to think better of it when they see you perched up high.

The two of you spend the next couple hours karting together, trading places taking warm up laps and cheering each other on. At one point, a young attendant working the pit area approaches Michael somewhat nervously.

“Um, excuse me, Mr. Schumacher?” He’s clutching a crumpled baseball cap in one hand, ducking his head shyly. “I’m just such a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo and signing this for me after your session?”

Your papa smiles kindly at the young man and takes the cap. “Not at all, no problem.” As the attendant walks away, looking elated, Michael turns to you with a wink. “See? That’s how you politely ask for an autograph.”

You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Don’t worry, Papa, I won’t let the fame go to my head when I’m a famous racecar driver too someday.”

Scooping you up once more, Michael presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl. Now, last few laps — let’s see who can go the fastest without ending up in the grass!”

As evening starts falling, the two of you make your way back through the now nearly deserted lot after returning the rental karts. Most of the other karters have cleared out, leaving just you two strolling unhurriedly back to the car.

“Well Maus, despite the, uh, overexcited fans, I’d call this day a success,” Michael says, swinging your joined hands idly. “We both had our fun on the track, and I think you handled that crowd back there like a champ.”

You smile up at him, still so proud just to be his daughter. “I don’t care about all those other people, papa. As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”

Stopping beside the car, Michael crouches down and cups your face in his calloused racing palms, looking at you with such fierce adoration.

“Maus, you have me, always. No matter what happens out there,” he gestures vaguely at the empty track, “When I’m with you, I’m just Papa. My greatest accomplishment, my biggest award, is being your father. Verstanden?”

You launch yourself into his arms, hugging as tightly as you can. “Verstanden, Papa. I love you.”

“Ich liebe dich mehr, Maus,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your hair. “Now, what do you say we go get some victory ice cream?”

As the two of you climb into the car, you can’t keep the smile off your face, practically glowing with contentment. Sure, maybe your papa is some big famous racecar driver that everybody wants a piece of. But really, he’s just your papa — and you’re his whole world.

***

The ringing of the house phone cuts through the tense silence like a knife. You shrink further into the couch cushions as your mother rushes to answer it, shoulders visibly taut.

“Hello? No, I cannot make any comment at this time. Yes, I understand there is interest but-” Corinna breaks off, rubbing her temples wearily. “Please respect our privacy as a family right now. Thank you.”

She hangs up and leans against the wall, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. Before she can even draw a full breath, the phone rings again, shrill and insistent. With a muffled curse, your mother snatches it up.

“What? I told you, I cannot give any statements! This is a private matter. How did you even get this number?”

You watch apprehensively as she responds again, her voice rising in distress. In the days since your papa’s skiing accident, it seems like the entire world has been hounding your family, desperate for any scrap of information.

On the TV across the room, the endless cycle of news reports drones on lowly. Images of your papa’s broken, still body being rushed from the slopes into a helicopter. Flashing advancer texts speculating on his chances of recovery from the traumatic head injury.

It makes you feel ill.

Beside you on the couch, Mick sits blank-faced, looking nearly as pale and worn as your mother. At 14, he understands the gravity of the situation all too well. Your big brother has always idolized your papa, hoping to follow in his racing footsteps one day as well. The thought of him not being there to see the realization of that dream is devastating.

Gina is curled up in the armchair, her shoulders shaking every so often with muffled sobs. At 16, she’s arguably been taking this the hardest of all you kids. She keeps her face stoically dry in front of your mother, but you can see how red and puffy her eyes are from constant crying.

As for you, at 11-years-old, you’re somehow both numb and feeling everything all at once. Part of you still can’t fully process that this nightmare is real. That your hero, your papa, could be lying comatose in a hospital, hovering between life and death. The other part of you is overwhelmed in a tsunami of terror, panic, anger, sadness — any and every emotion crashing through you at all hours.

“Kids, I’m so sorry about this,” your mother says, defeated, as she rejoins you in the living room after ending her latest call. The bags under her eyes seem to have deepened further overnight. “I know this is incredibly difficult and intrusive. But your papa is … he’s a public figure. People are concerned.”

“Incredibly insensitive is what they’re being,” Gina spits, uncurling herself from the chair enough to shoot your mother a resentful look. “We’re going through actual hell and all these people care about is getting a sound bite for the evening news!”

Corinna looks pained but doesn’t rebuke her. “I know, liebling, I know. But your papa has millions of fans all over the world who have followed his career for decades. Whether we like it or not, they care about him … and about us by extension.”

You think back to that day at the karting track all those years ago when you first realized your papa was what people called “famous”. How all those strangers clamored around him so aggressively just for a photo or an autograph. That level of fandom seemed exciting and novel at the time, when you were just a naïve 5-year-old. Now you see it for how intrusive and violating it is, this sense of entitlement people have to the private life of a public figure.

The phone starts ringing again, shattering the fragile quiet. Your mother squeezes her eyes shut and makes no move to get it this time. After four rings, the call goes to voicemail. A moment later, the tinny sound of an Italian voicemail being left blares through the speaker.

“Scusi, scusi, please, if there is any update on the condition of the great Michael Schumacher, any information at all! We are all holding vigils and saying prayers, but we must know how he fares! The world is watching and waiting!”

The words, pleading and demanding all at once, are like a slap across your face. The man’s voice is laced with such desperation, as if your papa’s life is mere entertainment to be consumedby the masses. You feel abruptly furious, incensed that a stranger’s morbid curiosity is given the same weight as your family’s anguish.

“Turn it off,” Mick mutters through clenched teeth, hunching over on the couch. “Just turn it off, Mama.”

Corinna nods numbly and reaches to end the voicemail, her mouth set in a grim line. Buzzing fills the room again as the TV drones on, the reporters’ voices a dull roar that you can no longer discern actual words from as your ears ring with white noise.

The shrill ringing of the phone cuts through once more, like a record scratching in your brain. Your mother flinches violently, hands coming up to clamp over her ears as she squeezes her eyes shut, finally at her breaking point.

Unable to watch this torture anymore, you surge to your feet and storm across the living room. You rip the phone from its cradle and hurl it against the far wall, the plastic casing shattering loudly. The ringing blessedly ends, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.

Mick and Gina stare at you with wide, stunned eyes. Your mother simply deflates, sliding down the wall to the floor as the adrenaline drains from her body. For several beats, no one dares breathe too loudly. Then, Gina starts to shake her head slowly, tears slipping free.

“Brava,” she murmurs, the barest hint of approval in her voice.

Your mother doesn’t scold you for the outburst. She merely reaches out a hand, silently beckoning you closer until you slowly cross the room again and sink to your knees in front of her. She cups your face in her palms, her own cheeks glistening with fresh tears.

“You’re right, liebling, you’re right,” she whispers brokenly. “This is about our family, not … not the world thinking they’re owed something.”

She pulls your head against her shoulder and you cling to her tightly as she begins to weep in earnest, great shuddering sobs wracking her whole frame. Gina scrambles over and tucks herself against your mother’s other side, and soon all three of you are tangled in each other’s arms, letting the tidal wave of grief crest over you.

Mick stays frozen on the couch, watching over your huddle with dark, haunted eyes. For the first time since this ordeal began, the four of you are united in simply feeling, truly letting yourselves shatter. No more putting on brave faces or pretending to be okay — from this moment, you can finally grieve as a family behind closed doors, blockading out the rest of the cruel, prying world.

Later that evening, after crying yourselves into an exhausted stupor, you drift up the stairs and sequester yourself in your bedroom. You bypass the framed photos of your papa on your nightstand, the sight of his bright smile and twinkling eyes too searing at the moment. Instead, you sink to your knees in the middle of the floor and clasp your hands tightly, bowing your head to murmur desperate pleas.

“Please, please let my papa be okay. I don’t care about all his fame or the stupid reporters. I just want him to get better and come home to us. He’s not just the famous Michael Schumacher to me. He’s Papa. He’s my whole world.”

The words spill out in a torrent, all the fear and longing you’ve been bottling up for the better part of a week erupting forth. You plead to any higher power that may be listening, bargaining away your future, your dreams, anything — as long as your papa pulls through this nightmare.

How many times had you taken for granted those moments of him just being your dad — making you pancakes on Saturday mornings, dozing on the couch during family movie nights, playfully tossing you into the pool when you grew too whiny in the summer heat? You’d give anything to have those simple, precious daddy-daughter moments back.

“The world can have his trophies and titles,” you whisper fiercely, tears slipping free to patter on the carpet. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want my papa. Please, please bring him back to us.”

You curl in on yourself, forehead pressing into the floor as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. All the adoring fans, the fawning media, the hangers-on clamoring for a piece of his glory — they only know the manufactured public persona of Michael Schumacher, legendary racer and famous celebrity. But to you, he’s always just been the quiet hero tucking you into bed at night, the gentle presence reading stories in funny voices, the mighty protector pulling you in for all-encompassing bear hugs.

You miss that wonderful, silly, tender father more than anything in the world. You don’t give a damn about his racing accolades or his fame. You just desperately need your papa back home where he belongs — with his family, the people who loved and treasured him most as simply Michael.

Just Michael. Your one and only papa.

The raw ache of that longing consumes you utterly. You lay there amid the fading light from your bedroom windows, dreams and memories of your papa flickering behind your eyelids as you plead to any benevolent force that may be listening. All you want is the chance to make more joyful memories with him, to hear his rich laugh, to keep basking in his unconditional love for years and years to come.

Please, you beg the universe silently, one last time. Please let this nightmare end. Don’t let the brightest light in my world be extinguished before its time.

Let me have my papa back.

***

A tense hush has fallen over the dining room table, the clinking of utensils against plates the only sound cutting through the thick silence. Gina avoids everyone’s eyes, pushing food around her plate listlessly. Mick stares down at his half-eaten dinner, jaw working like he’s chewing over something weighty. You pick at a bread roll, too knotted with anxiety to muster much appetite.

Your mother is the one to finally break the stifling quiet, clearing her throat. “Kids, I know these last few weeks have been … incredibly difficult for us all.”

You risk a glance up at Corinna. Her eyes are tight at the corners, her mouth a taut line. Just like all of you, the constant vigil at your papa’s bedside, combined with the relentless badgering from the media, has clearly taken its toll.

“But we have to keep trying to be a family, yes?” She reaches across the table to grip your hand. “We’re all Michael has right now. We have to … to stick together for him.”

You nod numbly, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat at the reminder of your papa’s unchanged condition. The waiting, the not knowing if or when he’ll wake up, is a special kind of torment you wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Mick abruptly shoves his plate away, the porcelain scraping loudly across the wood. You all flinch a little at the harsh sound.

“I’ve been thinking ...” he starts, then seems to reconsider his words, shoulders tightening fractionally. “Well, Y/N, you know how I … how I race under Mama’s last name?”

You frown slightly, uncertain where he’s going with this. “Betsch, yes. Because you wanted to make your own name without the expectation and pressure of being Michael Schumacher’s son.”

He dips his chin once, looking almost pained. “Exactly. And I think … I think maybe you should consider doing the same.”

The words sit heavy and convolulenting between you all like a sack of wet cement. You blink dumbly, hardly comprehending what he’s suggesting at first. When the implication hits you, you actually recoil as if he’d slapped you across the face.

“What? No. No, absolutely not, Mick. How can you even say that?��

“Y/N, just hear me out,” he pleads, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “With Papa … with what happened, the paparazzi and the fans, they’re going to be watching our every move even more than before. Especially you since you’re planning to continue competing-”

“Don’t you dare make this about his condition,” you spit, fury thrumming through your veins like struck lightning. “And of course I plan to keep racing — it’s what Papa would want! I’m not going to hide from his name like it’s some shameful thing!”

Gina is watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, her food forgotten. Mick runs an agitated hand through his hair, shaking his head firmly.

“It’s not about hiding or shame, it’s about protecting yourself! Don’t you see how crazy things have gotten? All the reporters harassing us, the fans leaving awful messages online hoping for updates ...”

He leans forward, expression almost desperate. “If you race as Betsch, you can compete without having that extra spotlight. You can just be a normal kid on the track without people peering in.”

Heat rushes up the back of your neck in waves of humiliation and rage. How dare he insinuate that inheriting your papa’s legacy is some kind of burden to be shrugged off? That the name Schumacher is a burden to bear rather than a badge of honor?

“I’m not you, Mick,” you bite out, fists clenching beneath the table. “Maybe racing under Mama’s name helped you deal with the pressure better and that’s fine. But I’m proud to be Michael Schumacher’s daughter! And if people can’t respect that, if they think it means they own a piece of me, then they can go to hell!”

“Language!” Your mother gasps, both appalled and slightly impressed. But you ignore her admonishment, too fired up to rein it in now.

“What, you think pretending to be someone else is going to spare me from living in Papa’s shadow anyway?” You shake your head adamantly, leaning across the table towards Mick. “It’s not, and you know it. Even if I raced under a fake name, everyone is still going to know exactly who I am and make comparisons.”

Slamming your palms on the table, you surge to your feet, chair screeching harshly against the floor. All the pain and uncertainty of these past few weeks is bubbling over into bitter, biting words.

“So why should I hide it? Why can’t I take pride in my name and my heritage? Maybe it’ll mean more scrutiny, but it’s a million times better than feeling like I have to be ashamed! Like I can’t fully honor Papa and make him proud!”

Chest heaving, you stare down a wide-eyed Mick, almost daring him to challenge you further. He seems to read the conviction blazing in your eyes, features softening into chagrin.

“You’re right ...” he murmurs with a wince. “You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

You hold his repentant gaze for a long moment before deflating back into your chair with a muted thud. In the ringing silence, you can hear your mother’s soft sniffles from the far end of the table. When you look over, she has her head bowed, hands pressed to her eyes as she cries quietly.

“M-Mama?” Gina ventures in a small voice, reaching across to grasp her mother’s wrist. “What’s wrong?”

Corinna lowers her hands, swiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. When she meets your bewildered gaze, her expression is a complicated brew of pride and heart-wrenching sadness.

“Nothing is wrong, liebling,” she assures Gina with a watery smile, before turning back to you. “Y/N, you’re so much like your papa, do you know that? So brave and determined … so full of that same fighting spirit.”

She dips her chin, lips trembling faintly. “He would be so proud to hear you defend his name like that. To see you ready to take on the weight of wearing it, regardless of what the world throws at you.”

More tears spill forth, but she brushes them away impatiently with the backs of her hands.

“But liebchen, you have to understand … Michael spent decades bearing that scrutiny and expectation. People analyzing his every move, always under a spotlight so harsh it burned. I never wanted that for any of you.”

Sliding her chair back, your mother crosses to kneel before you, cradling your face gently between her palms. Her eyes are shining but intensely serious, almost pleading with you.

“The Schumacher name casts such a long shadow, one so great that your own light can be eclipsed before you ever have a chance to properly shine. I don’t want you smothered by that burden, mein schatz. I want you free to make your own amazing mark on this world, completely unchained.”

You feel your throat grow tight at her words, the weight of them ringing so true and terribly sad. You reach up to circle your fingers around her wrists, holding her hands to your cheeks like vices.

“I know, Mama, I know,” you whisper roughly. “But that light you want me to shine? Papa is the one who sparked it inside me in the first place.”

You meet her watery gaze steadily, willing her to understand the conviction taking root inside you.

“The joy and passion I have for racing doesn’t come from some anonymous dream. It comes from him — from the nights he spent giving me a play-by-play of his biggest victories, from the days we spent at the karting tracks making memories, from everything I want so desperately to honor.”

Leaning forward until your brows nearly touch, you let the pleasing words spill out directly from your heart.

“So please, please don’t ask me to race as anyone other than your daughter, yes, but also proudly as Michael Schumacher’s daughter. That name isn’t a burden or a shadow to me. It’s something I want to carry forward and make blaze even brighter.”

Your mother’s eyes slip shut as she draws in a shuddering breath. For a long moment, she simply holds your face cradled in her palms, seeming to bask in your impassioned words. When her eyes finally open again, they are overflowing with a fierce tenderness.

“Oh liebchen,” she murmurs, voice thick with an odd mix of grief and wonder. “You are your father’s daughter through and through. So determined, so unafraid to face the world head on ...”

She strokes her thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, swiping away the dampness there. “I only hope he knows just how brightly his fire still burns in you. How it is living on in the most brilliant way.”

Surging up onto her knees, your mother pulls you into a fierce embrace, tucking your head beneath her chin. You cling to her tightly, drawing strength from her warmth, her tireless support and love. Over her shoulder, you can see Mick and Gina watching silently, their own eyes overly bright.

When your mother finally leans back, cupping your face once more, her expression has regained some of its usual firmness and resolution.

“Very well, then,” she nods, offering you a watery but determined smile. “If you truly feel ready to take on the world, to claim that name and legacy as yours, then we will face it together. As a family.”

She rises lithely to her feet, drawing you up along with her. Gathering Mick and Gina in with the sweep of her arms, she folds you all in her protective embrace, holding your foreheads together in the center.

“You may be Schumachers, but that name does not define or limit you,” she declares, quiet but firm. “It is simply one part of your identity, one piece of the incredible legacy you inherited. What you choose to make of it, how brightly you make that legacy burn, is up to you alone.”

She pulls back just enough to meet each of your eyes in turn, her own gleaming with resolute pride.

“So let them watch, let them scrutinize and sneer and make their judgments. You will simply keep chasing your passions and living your truths. Yes, the world may know you as Schumachers, but you alone will define what that name represents, now and for generations to come.”

***

The roar of the engines fades as you cross the finish line, taking the chequered flag. The broadcast team erupts in excitement.

“Unbelievable! Y/N Schumacher has done it — the daughter of the legendary Michael Schumacher wins the Formula 2 championship in her rookie year!”

You can hardly believe it yourself as you start your cooldown lap, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The pit crew is cheering wildly, holding up the #1 sign. Your race engineer is on the radio, his voice cracking with joy. “You’re a champion, Y/N! A first-year champion!”

“What an incredible drive from the young German. Shades of her father with that relentless determination and racecraft. She’s carried on the Schumacher name proudly.”

As you return to the pit lane, you spot Mick getting out of his own car. He has a huge smile on his face, eyes shining with pride. You take a moment to drink it all in as you bring your car to a stop and he’s the first one there, ripping off your helmet so he can hug you tightly.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” He’s beaming as he pulls back to look at you.

“Aww, Mick ...” You blink back happy tears, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what you’ve accomplished. “I couldn’t have done it without you pushing me every single race.”

Mick shakes his head dismissively. “This was all you. You were the faster driver this season, plain and simple.” His face falls a little. “I really thought I had you there at the end, but you just wouldn’t give up.”

You grin cheekily. “Of course not! I’m a Schumacher — we never give up.”

“What a beautiful moment between the siblings. You can see the immense pride Mick has for his sister, despite coming up just short of winning the championship himself.”

The rest of the team surrounds the two of you, lifting you both up onto their shoulders as the celebrations kick into full gear. You lock eyes with Mick over the sea of smiling faces and he winks at you contentedly.

Later, after you’ve returned to the garage, you find a quiet moment alone with Mick. He pulls you into another hug, this one more lingering.

“I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You’ve worked so incredibly hard for this.” Mick’s voice is thick with emotion.

You squeeze him tightly. “Thank you, Mick. That means everything coming from you.”

He pulls back, cupping your face fondly. “I remember when we were kids, dreaming of following in Papa’s footsteps. And now look at us!”

You laugh, a few happy tears spilling over. “I know, it’s crazy! I couldn’t have done this without your help, you know. You’ve been by my side every step of the way.”

“A storybook ending for the Schumacher siblings. Y/N cementing herself as a future star, with her older brother not far behind.”

Mick shakes his head adamantly. “No, Y/N, this was all your talent and determination. I just got a front row seat to watching greatness in the making.” His eyes are shining with sincerity.

You throw your arms around his neck, struck by how lucky you are to have such an amazing brother. “I love you, Mick. Thank you for always believing in me.”

He hugs you fiercely. “I’ll always believe in you. You’re a champion now, but I know this is just the beginning for you.”

The team arrives then, champagne bottles in hand and ready to continue the celebration. You pull back and grin at Mick mischievously, cracking open the first bottle with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you … for now.”

The bubbly liquid sprays everywhere as you both dissolve into laughter, reveling in this perfect moment of sibling bonding and love. Mick pulls you into a wet hug, so proud and grateful to share this with you.

“And an iconic image — the Schumacher children celebrating a Formula 2 title just like their father did in the upper series so many times before. A changing of the guard, with the name Schumacher set to dazzle racing fans once more for years to come.”

Later that night, after you’ve showered off the champagne and slipped into comfy clothes, there’s a soft knock at your hotel room door. You open it to find Mick standing there, shifting awkwardly.

“Hey, you’ve got a second?” His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.

“Of course, what’s up?” You gesture him inside, concerned by his demeanor.

Mick enters slowly, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He seems to be struggling to find the words.

You rest a hand on his arm. “Mick, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

He nods jerkily, finally meeting your eyes. “I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You have no idea how much it means to me to see you accomplishing your dreams.” His voice catches with emotion.

“But?” You prod gently.

Mick’s eyes water again. “But … it’s also really hard for me. This was my dream first, you know? To become a champion like Papa.” He swipes at the tears angrily. “And now you’ve beaten me to it. I’m just … I’m struggling with that a bit.”

Your heart clenches at his quiet admission. You pull Mick into a tight hug, rubbing his back soothingly. “Oh, Mick … I’m so sorry. I never wanted to take that away from you.”

He shakes his head against your shoulder. “No, no, it’s not your fault at all. You earned this, fair and square. I’m just … dealing with some complicated emotions, I guess.”

You push him back by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes intently. “Mick, listen to me. You are one of the most naturally gifted drivers I’ve ever seen. This is not the end for you, not even close. You’re going to be a champion too, I know it.”

Mick seems to deflate slightly at your words, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you state firmly. “We’re going to take this to the top level together. And we’re going to make Papa even more proud than he already is.”

A slow smile spreads across Mick’s face. “Together,” he repeats, reaching out to take your hand and give it a squeeze.

You squeeze back reassuringly. “Always together. You and me, just like when we were kids. We’re a team, remember?”

Mick nods, the brightness returning to his eyes. He seems lighter now, the melancholy cloud lifted by your words of encouragement.

On impulse, you throw your arms around him again, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Mick laughs delightedly, squeezing you just as tightly.

“Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that from you,” he murmurs shakily into your hair.

You pull back just enough to grin at him cheekily. “What are little sisters for?”

Mick lets out a surprised bark of laughter, warmth and affection shining from every part of his expression as he gazes at you fondly. “You’ll always be my little sis, champion or not.”

It’s your turn to laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “Well this little sis just kicked your ass this season, so show some respect!”

Mick’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “I’ll remember that for next year, believe me.”

***

It’s a crisp autumn evening at the Schumacher family home in the Swiss Alps. You’re curled up on the plush couch in the living room, flipping through a magazine while your brother paces back and forth anxiously.

“Will you please sit down?” You ask, eyeing him over the top of the pages. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Mick runs a hand through his tousled blond hair. “Sorry, I’m just … worked up, I guess.”

You set the magazine aside. “About what? We haven’t had a race in weeks.”

He stops his pacing to face you. “You know the season’s almost over, right? And Haas still hasn’t said anything about re-signing me for next year.”

“Oh, Mick.” You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. You’ve had a solid season.”

Mick flops down next to you, deflating a little. “I don’t know. There are so many other options on the table. What if Haas decides to go a different direction?”

“Then you’ll find another seat,” you say firmly. “Any team would be lucky to have you behind the wheel.”

He manages a half-smile. “Thanks. I just wish I had your confidence sometimes.”

“What can I say?” You flash him a cheeky grin. “It’s a gift.”

The peaceful moment is shattered as both of your phones start ringing in unison. You exchange a puzzled look before digging them out.

“My manager,” Mick says, furrowing his brow as he answers. “Hello?”

You do the same, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hey, Nicolas, what’s up?”

For the next few minutes, you and Mick are silent, listening intently with rapidly changing expressions — yours elated, his crestfallen. When you finally hang up, Mick is staring at the floor, lips pressed into a tight line.

“Well?” He asks, voice tight. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

You take a deep breath, trying to tamp down your surging excitement. “Ferrari wants me for next season.”

Mick’s face falls even further, if possible. “You’re kidding.”

“I wouldn’t joke about this!” You can’t keep the grin from overtaking your features. “Can you believe it? Driving for the Scuderia! It’s a dream come true!”

“Yeah, for you maybe,” Mick mutters darkly.

You blink at his tone, smile fading slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He drags a hand down his face wearily. “Haas declined to re-sign me for next year.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? No, that can’t be right!”

“Afraid so.” Mick’s voice is flat, resigned. “They said something about … needing to bring in fresh blood or some bullshit excuse.”

You scoot closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Mick, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

“Don’t be.” He tries for a nonchalant shrug, but it comes off as dejected. “At least one of us is moving up in the world.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?” You protest. “We’re teammates! We were supposed to take on Formula 1 together!”

Mick snorts humorlessly. “Looks like that’s not going to happen after all.”

An uncomfortable silence stretches between you. You open your mouth, searching for the right words of reassurance, but come up empty. How can you comfort him when your own dream has come true at his expense?

“Hey.” Mick’s somber tone breaks the quiet. “I’m happy for you, you know. Really, I am.”

You meet his sincere gaze, feeling your eyes start to well up. “I know. But that doesn’t make this any less shitty for you.”

He manages a rueful smile. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”

“So what are you going to do now?” You ask quietly.

Mick lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Keep grinding, I guess. Look for another seat, any seat, even if it’s not in F1 next season.”

“You can’t give up on F1!” You protest instantly. “You’re too good for that, Mick.”

“Am I, though?” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Face it, Y/N, you’ve always been the better driver. This just proves it.”

You shake your head adamantly. “That’s not true at all! You’re every bit as talented as me.”

“Then why did Ferrari pick you instead of me?” There’s no accusation in his words, just weariness.

You falter, mind churning as you search for an answer that won’t come. “I … don’t know.”

“Exactly.” Mick closes his eyes briefly. “Maybe it’s for the best. At least this way, one of us still gets to live out the Schumacher legacy and race for Ferrari. Carry on the family name, you know?”

“But you’re a Schumacher too,” you say, feeling your throat start to tighten with unshed tears. “It should be both of us out there, not just me.”

Mick reaches over to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey, don’t cry about it. I’ll be okay, really.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” You swipe angrily at the moisture gathering in your eyes. “It’s not fair, Mick. It’s just not fair at all.”

He levels you with a look that’s decades older than his years. “Life rarely is. You know that as well as I do.”

You fall silent, unable to formulate a response. He’s right, you realize with a pang. The two of you, of all people, should understand that success and failure often go hand-in-hand, even for the most talented competitors.

Pursing your lips, you lean forward and pull Mick into a fierce hug. He tenses for a split second before wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I’m still so proud of you,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my incredible big brother.”

Mick lets out a shaky exhale against your hair. “And you’re the most badass little sister a guy could ask for. Ferrari has no idea what they’re in for.”

You pull back just far enough to meet his eyes, emboldened by the warm affection shining in them.

“Just promise me one thing?” You ask.

He arches an eyebrow quizzically. “What’s that?”

A mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “That you’re not going to take it easy on me whenever you’re back on the grid.”

***

You take a deep breath as you pull your sleek new Ferrari up to the iconic factory in Maranello. This place holds so many memories — some joyful, others bittersweet. Your father cemented himself as a legend here, and you can’t help but feel the weight of that legacy on your shoulders now more than ever.

The door swings open and there stands Fred Vasseur offering you a warm smile. “Y/N, welcome home.”

You return the smile, unable to mask the flood of emotions. “It’s good to be back, Fred.”

He gestures for you to follow him inside. “I’m sure this place brings back quite a few memories.”

“You have no idea,” you murmur, taking in the familiar sights and smells. The rosso corsa that coats every surface, the scent of machinery and high-octane fuel … it’s intoxicating.

A tiny you runs through the hallways, giggling madly as your frantic mother tries to catch up. “Mick! Y/N! Get back here this instant!”

Mick peeks out from behind a workbench, sticking his tongue out at Gina, who playfully swats at him. You spot the perfect hiding spot — a massive green recycling bin tucked in the corner ...

“Y/N? Are you still with me?” Fred’s voice breaks you from your reverie.

You shake your head. “Sorry, got a bit lost in thought there. This place just … feels like stepping into the past.”

Fred nods knowingly. “I can only imagine. But today is about your future with the team.” He leads you through the winding corridors, pointing out various departments. “Over here is aerodynamics, that hallway takes you to the design labs ...”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Your father’s voice echoes down the corridor, his tone playful but tinged with desperation. You stifle a giggle from your hiding spot as his footsteps draw closer.

“Michael, any luck?” That’s Paolo, one of the mechanics. You chance a peek and see half the team has been enlisted to search for you.

Your dad scrubs a hand over his face. “She’s too good at this game. Should’ve known better than to play hide-and-seek in a place this size.”

You chuckle softly at the memory, prompting a curious look from Fred. “Sorry, just … reminiscing again.”

He gives you an easy grin. “By all means, feel free to share. I’d love to hear some of those old stories.”

You take a breath, composing yourself before launching into the tale. “Well, there was this one time when I was maybe … four or five? Mick and I were causing an unholy ruckus as usual, and Papa suggested a game of hide-and-seek to wear us out. Big mistake on his part.”

Fred’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Let me guess, you proved to be a master hider?”

“You could say that.” You grin mischievously. “I found this big recycling bin, crawled inside, and stayed completely silent while the whole team tore the place apart looking for me. Papa was just about to call in the overalls for backup when Paolo finally peeked in the bin.”

Fred throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “I can just picture your poor father’s face when they found you! He must’ve been both relieved and completely exasperated.”

You nod. “Oh, he wore that particular blend of emotions often when we were young terrors around here.”

The two of you continue chatting amicably as Fred shows you around the various facilities — the simulator room, the engine workshop, even the gym and physiotherapy center. With each new area unveiled, another flood of nostalgia washes over you.

You and Mick sprint into the wide-open workshop, engines and miscellaneous car pieces scattered all around. Gina is closing in, her longer legs giving her an advantage.

“Got you now, you little gremlins!” She scoops Mick up with one arm, then turns her sights on you.

You let out a shriek of laughter, dodging around a massive piece of equipment as your mother joins the chase. “Come here, Maus! It’s time for your nap!”

You shake your head furiously. “No nap! No nap!”

Corinna’s hand finally snags the back of your shirt, and you erupt into a fit of giggles as she pulls you into a hug ...

“That’s some smile you’ve got going there,” Fred notes with a wry grin. “I take it another happy memory?”

You give an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Just … remembering how this place used to be our personal jungle gym. Mick, Gina, and I would run absolute loops around Mama while she tried to wrangle us for nap time.”

Fred chuckles fondly. “I can picture three tiny terrors leaving chaos in their wake.” His expression softens. “It must be incredibly special to be back here after all these years. To follow in your father’s footsteps like this.”

You swallow hard against the swell of emotions. “It’s … overwhelming, if I’m being honest. But in the best possible way.” You glance around at the familiar setting with new eyes. “These halls practically raised me. And now … now I get to write my own chapter here.”

Fred gives your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve got a long road ahead, but I have complete faith you’ll make us all proud, Y/N.”

You straighten your shoulders, giving him a determined nod. “I’m ready.”

As you follow him further into the factory, you can’t help but revel in the rush of coming full circle. Yes, this team, this place, is indelibly woven into your childhood. But now … now it’s time to create new memories.

To race.

To win.

To become a legend.

***

The crowd outside the Ferrari headquarters swells as you emerge from the famous red doors for the first time as an official Scuderia Ferrari driver. Shouts and cheers erupt from every direction, fans pressing forward eagerly with pens and photos clutched in their hands.

“Over here, Y/N!”

“Un selfie, per favore!”

“Can you sign this for my daughter?”

You plaster on a polite smile, trying to graciously oblige as many autograph and photo requests as possible. But the throngs only grow more insistent, hands grabbing at you from all angles as the crowd closes in. Your heart races and you feel yourself starting to panic at the lack of personal space.

“Per favore, let her breathe!” An insistent voice cuts through the commotion in lightly accented Italian.

The crowd parts slightly as a familiar, lean figure pushes through — your new teammate. His green eyes meet yours with a reassuring look as he plants himself firmly by your side.

“Give her some space!” Charles barks out in English this time. “She can’t breathe!”

You shoot him a grateful glance as the fans reluctantly take a step back. Charles gently takes your arm and pulls you out of the scrum.

“Sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I know how intense they can be around here.”

“No, thank you,” you reply earnestly. “I was about two seconds away from an anxiety attack.”

Charles chuckles. “Well, we can’t have the new driver cracking under pressure on day one.”

You make a face at his teasing remark. “Watch it, pretty boy.”

Laughing, Charles puts his arm around your shoulders in a friendly gesture. “Come on, I know just the place to escape the madness for a bit. Dinner’s on me.”

He guides you across the plaza and down a side street to a cozy trattoria — Ristorante Montana, known as the unofficial “Ferrari restaurant��� frequented by team members. As you enter, a stout woman with a warm, welcoming smile emerges from the back.

“Ah, Charles! Welcome back. And this must be ...” Her eyes widen as they land on you. “Oh, la piccola principessa is all grown up!”

Flustered, you open your mouth to respond, but the woman has already swept you up in a tight embrace.

“Rossella, you’re smothering the poor girl!” A elderly man’s voice calls out in amused rebuke.

“Hush, Maurizio, and pour us some wine!” Rossella releases you and holds you at arm’s length, beaming. “Michael’s little girl, all woman now. I’ll never forget the first time your father brought you in here as a bambina.”

She gestures to a framed photo hanging on the wall of a much younger Rossella standing next to Michael, who is holding a grinning toddler — unmistakably you.

“He was so proud,” Rossella continues misty-eyed. “Just like I know he would be of you today, following in your father’s footsteps.”

You swallow hard, touched by the warm welcome and memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Charles watching you with a soft smile.

Rossella shifts gears abruptly, all business. “Now, what will you two have? The usual for you, Charles? And for you, la principessa, I insist you try the gnocchi al ragú. Just like my nonna used to make it.”

As Rossella whisks off to the kitchen, Maurizio appears with a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses.

“To new beginnings,” he toasts with a wink, pouring for you and Charles.

You raise your glass to clink against Charles’ with a smile. “New beginnings.”

Over pasta and wine, you and Charles fall into an easy rapport, bantering back and forth as the weight of the evening’s earlier stress dissipates. You find yourself repeatedly distracted by the dimpled grin that lights up his face whenever he laughs at one of your quips.

“So is this a regular hazing ritual you put all the rookies through?” You ask innocently. “Get them away from the crowds and ply them with wine so they’re too drunk to be nervous on day one?”

Charles barks out a laugh. “You’ve found me out! Although I do seem to recall my own initiation being a lot harder. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”

“Old age? You’re what …12?” You retort, eyes dancing with mirth.

The waiter arrives with the dessert menu, but Rossella shoos him away.

“No, no menu. I’m bringing you the tiramisu to share. My secret recipe.”

Charles groans in delight. “You’re a legend, Rossella.”

She pats his cheek affectionately before disappearing again. A comfortable silence falls between you and Charles as you each take a bite of the rich, velvety tiramisu.

“Mmmm, this is literally heaven,” you murmur happily.

Charles hums in agreement around another forkful.

Your eyes catch movement out of the corner and you turn to see Rossella returning, carrying a large framed photo under her arm. She sets it down on the empty chair next to you with a proud grin.

It’s a glamor shot of you from a recent photoshoot for Vogue Italia — hair and makeup impeccable, lips parted in a secret smile as you gaze directly at the camera.

Rossella rests a hand on your shoulder. “For me, bellissima? So we can hang la principessa right next to il padre.”

Touched, you take the proffered sharpie and scribble out a quick inscription before signing your name with a flourish at the bottom.

“Grazie mille,” Rossella breathes, throwing an arm around you to squeeze you against her ample frame. “You’ve made this old heart very happy tonight.”

When she finally releases you, you see Charles watching you both with a soft, almost wistful expression. You raise your eyebrows at him in question, but he just shakes his head with a smile.

As you and Charles prepare to depart, Rossella calls out once more. “You come back soon, eh principessa? I have more pictures to collect.”

You throw her a wink over your shoulder. “D’accordo, d’accordo. We’ll be back soon!”

Out on the street, you pause, conscious of the evening rapidly drawing to a close. You turn to Charles, studying him properly for the first time. His deep green eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t swooped in to rescue me back there.”

Charles shrugs nonchalantly, but his expression is kind. “We look out for our own in Ferrari. That’s what teammates are for, no?”

A beat passes, the momentary tension thickening between you. Then Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat.

“Anyway, I should let you get going before your handlers send out a search party. Need me to call you a car?”

“No, no I’m good,” you reply quickly, trying to mask your disappointment at the night ending. “My performance coach has the car around front.”

You start to turn away, then impulsively pivot back. Rising up on your toes, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a brief, platonic hug.

“Seriously, thank you,” you murmur in his ear. “For everything.”

As you pull back, your faces are just inches apart. Charles’ eyes are warm, his gaze intense. For a dizzying moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you. Then just as suddenly, the moment passes and he steps back with a friendly smile.

“Anytime, princesse. I’ll see you bright and early next week for our first time running the SF-23 on the simulator.”

With a wink, he turns and saunters off down the street, hands shoved in his pockets in that effortlessly cool way of his. You let out a long breath, flustered and exhilarated all at once.

Your performance coach has indeed been waiting with the car, looking mildly concerned. “Everything alright?”

You flash her a bright smile, practically skipping to the car. “It is now, Mara. It absolutely is.”

Your first day as a Ferrari driver was certainly more than you bargained for. But as you settle into the plush leather seats, you can’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Something tells you this new chapter with the Scuderia is going to be an adventure — in more ways than one.

As Mara pulls away from the curb, you catch a final glimpse of Charles striding confidently down the street. Even from a distance, you can make out the dimpled smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Leaning back against the headrest, you think back to the memory of his arm slung casually around your shoulders and sigh contentedly. Yes, you have a feeling this is just the beginning of what’s shaping up to be a very interesting partnership with Charles Leclerc.

***

Sebastian looks over the wine list, pretending to be engrossed in selecting the perfect vintage as he peers over the top of the menu. His eyes are fixated on the entrance to the upscale Italian restaurant, waiting for Charles and you to arrive.

This had better work, he thinks to himself. The two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for months now, but are both too stubborn to make a move.

Finally, the hostess leads Charles and you into the dining room. Sebastian ducks down, pulling the brim of his fedora lower over his face and adjusting the fake mustache he’s wearing as a disguise. He watches as the hostess shows Charles and you to an intimate table for two by the window, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating your faces.

“There must be some mistake,” Charles says, looking around in confusion. “I was under the impression we were meeting Sebastian here for dinner?”

You look equally perplexed. “That’s what he told me too. He said to meet at 8 o’clock sharp.”

“Well this is just awkward,” Charles runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Should we wait for him or ...”

Before you can respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of bread and butter. “Good evening, my name is Gerardo and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Actually, we’re still waiting on-” Charles begins, but the waiter cuts him off.

“Ah yes, Mr. Vettel asked me to inform you that he will be unable to join this evening after all. A last minute obligation came up. He insisted I take excellent care of you both and that the evening is on his treat.” Gerardo smiles broadly. “So what will you have to drink?”

Sebastian smirks to himself at his cleverly orchestrated ruse from his secluded table in the back corner. He watches with bated breath as a flustered Charles and you exchange an awkward look.

“I’ll have a glass of Chianti,” you say finally, breaking the tension.

“Make that two,” Charles adds with a resigned sigh.

As Gerardo heads off to grab your drinks, an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. “You know, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Charles says, ever the gentleman. “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.”

“Don’t be silly,” you reply, offering him a warm smile that makes Sebastian’s heart melt a little. “It would be rude to ruin the evening Sebastian so carefully planned, even if he’s not actually here to enjoy it.”

Charles visibly relaxes at your acceptance of the situation. “You’re right, of course. If it’s a free dinner, we would be fools to turn that down!”

You both share a laugh, finally breaking the ice. Sebastian feels a swell of pride watching the two of you start to let your guards down around each other.

Over the next hour or so, Sebastian is delighted to see Charles and you become more at ease, trading jokes and stories over several delectable courses of pasta, veal, and freshly baked focaccia. He’s never seen either of you look so lighthearted and carefree, nor has he witnessed two people connect on such an organic, genuine level before. It’s positively magical to behold.

Gerardo arrives once more, this time bearing a decadent slice of torta della nonna for you to share for dessert. “Compliments of the house,” he announces with a wink before departing.

You immediately dig into the lemony confection with gusto. “Oh my god, this is dangerously good,” you moan through a mouthful of pastry cream and flaky crust.

Charles tries and fails to stifle a laugh at your unabashed enthusiasm. “You’ve got a little ...” he gestures vaguely at the corners of your mouth.

“What? Where?” You ask, attempting to wipe the stray crumbs and smears of powdered sugar from your cheeks.

“Here, let me,” Charles says softly, reaching across the table with his cloth napkin.

Sebastian watches with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest, as Charles tenderly swipes the napkin along your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek in the process. The moment seems to last an eternity, the two of you locked in each other’s smoldering gaze.

Then, ever so slowly, Charles leans across the table towards you. Sebastian can scarcely breathe as he witnesses the magnetic pull drawing the two of you together. This is it, this is finally happening, he marvels silently.

Sebastian lets out an inadvertent yelp of glee and instantly slaps his hands over his mouth. A table of nearby diners turns to gawk at the strange mustached man.

“Ahem, sorry! Hairball,” Sebastian rasps out in a terrible Italian accent. He slinks down in the booth, burning with embarrassment as the other patrons slowly turn away with disgusted looks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles and you also turn towards the commotion, the heated moment effectively ruined. Damn it, he was so close!

You and Charles eventually turn back towards each other, the awkwardness having returned. “We should, uh, probably ask for the check soon,” Charles mumbles, unable to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, I’ve got an early training session in the morning anyway,” you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stare down at the table.

Inwardly cursing his rotten luck, Sebastian motions for the bill and slips his black credit card into the folder when Gerardo brings it. He knows the only way to redeem this night is to insist you and Charles stay for one more drink. Maybe add a little more wine confidence to help reignite that spark you both nearly combusted over just moments ago.

As Gerardo whisks away to process Sebastian’s payment, the older German steels his nerves. He removes his ridiculous disguise, straightens his tie, and makes his way over to your table with purpose.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Sebastian asks with an exaggerated wink as he reaches you. “It appears Mr. Leclerc and Miss Schumacher were stood up this evening. For shame!”

“Ah, Seb!” Charles laughs in surprise at seeing his friend and former teammate. “We should have known you were behind this madness.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re a menace! I can’t believe you tricked us like that.”

Sebastian claps his hands together and flashes you both a devilish grin. “What can I say? I��m a hopeless romantic who cannot abide two clearly smitten people tiptoeing around each other any longer. Now, Gerardo is going to bring you the finest Barolo they have, on my dime, and you are going to remedy this sexual tension situation once and for all over another bottle or three!”

Charles opens his mouth to protest, but you laugh delightedly and nod towards Sebastian. “You know what, I could go for another drink. What do you say, Charles?”

The older Ferrari driver seems to wilt under the weight of your brilliant smile, Sebastian can’t fault the man for that. “Ah, what the hell,” Charles shrugs, throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Let’s see where this night takes us!”

Sebastian settles in, pouring you all generous glasses of the deep ruby wine when Gerardo delivers it. He may be getting on in years, but his matchmaking job has only just begun. One way or another, he’s determined to ensure his two protégés quit stumbling over each other and finally discover the romance that’s been blossoming under their noses all along.

Sipping his wine, Sebastian gazes at you and Charles, sees the tenderness flickering in both your eyes as you lean in closer together over the candlelight. He smiles contentedly to himself.

Mission accomplished.

***

The paddock is mostly deserted at this late hour, the muffled sounds of the teams packing up drifting in from the garages. You linger near the Ferrari motorhome, watching Charles sitting alone on a stack of tires, shoulders slumped. He’s been increasingly withdrawn these past few days leading up to the Japanese Grand Prix.

You approach slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Charles? You okay?”

He looks up, managing a small smile when he sees you. “Hey, mon amour.”

There’s a weariness to his voice that tugs at your heart. You take a seat beside him, letting your arm brush against his in a subtle show of support. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Charles is silent for a long moment, pulling his helmet off and turning it over in his hands. “It’s Suzuka,” he finally says, so softly you have to lean in to hear him. “Being back here … it’s difficult.”

Your brow furrows. Right, this is where Jules Bianchi crashed, his accident eventually proving fatal. Charles had been incredibly close with his mentor and godfather. “I can’t even imagine how painful this must be.” You cover his hand with yours. “Having to race on the same track ...”

“I relive that day over and over.” Charles’s accented voice is thick with emotion. “I can still see the footage of his car slamming into the crane, like it’s burned into my mind. He was my friend, my godfather, like a brother to me. And now every year, I have to come back to this place that took him from us far too soon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a stray tear escaping.

“Oh, Charles ...” You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body is rigid at first before melting against you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him tightly as his breath hitches with suppressed sobs, your own eyes stinging. How many times has he bottled up this grief, putting on a brave face for the world?

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his back. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve carried all these years. But Jules wouldn’t want you torturing yourself like this.” You pull away enough to frame his face with your hands, meeting his reddened eyes. “He’d want you to keep living, to keep pursuing your dream that he helped nurture. He’d be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

Charles manages a watery smile, covering one of your hands with his. “You’re right. Thank you, chérie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours with a shuddering sigh. “I just miss him so much some days. Like an ache I can’t shake.”

“I know.” You brush away the dampness on his cheeks with your thumbs. “Believe me, I understand that ache all too well.”

A crease forms between Charles’s brows as he regards you intently. “Your papa.”

You give a solemn nod. “Everyone talks about him like he’s gone. But he’s not, he’s still here, still breathing. It’s just … he’s not the same man I grew up with anymore.” You blink back tears of your own. “Sometimes I’ll see flashes that remind me so much of how Papa used to be. And then that illusion is shattered and I’m grieving all over again for the person he was.”

Charles’ arms wrap around you fully, tucking your head under his chin. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Seeing those glimpses of the man he was, only to have that hope ripped away.” He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, definitely doesn’t feel like it most days.” Pulling away, you try for a smile. “But we Schumachers are fighters. We don’t stay down for long.”

“That’s my girl.” Charles grins, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m lucky to have you by my side through all of this craziness. I don’t know what I’d do without your support, especially this weekend.”

“Are you kidding?” You turn to fully face him, clasping his hands in yours. “Charles, you’ve been my rock too, you know that? Signing with Ferrari this year, following in my father’s footsteps … the pressure has been immense. But you’ve never let me crumble under it. You’re always there with a laugh or a hug or some silly joke to make me smile even on the hardest days.”

Charles’s grin turns lopsided, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes your heart flutter. “Well, someone has to keep that ego of yours from inflating too much, future champion.” He leans in until his lips are a mere breath from yours. “But in all seriousness, we’re in this together, okay? No matter what the future holds, I’ll always have your back.”

“I know,” you murmur, feeling his words like a soothing balm over the parts of your heart still aching for your father as you once knew him. “And I’ll always have yours. We’re a team, on and off the track.” You close the distance between you, kissing him deeply.

Charles returns the kiss with fervor, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you close. The worries plaguing you both seem to temporarily fade into the background amid the warmth and solidity of his embrace. When you finally break apart, breathless, his emerald gaze holds an intensity that steals the air from your lungs in the best way.

“Je t’aime,” he murmurs, the endearment like a vow falling from his lips. “No matter what happens out there tomorrow, or any other race day, that will never change. You and me against the world, princesse.”

You flash him a coy smile, feeling desire begin to simmer low in your belly. “Is that a promise, Mr. Leclerc?”

“Mmm, I can make it one if you’d like.” Charles waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle as his hands roam freely over your back and sides, pulling you flush against him. His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Maybe I can find more convincing ways to pledge my devotion once we’re back at the hotel.”

“I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you say breathily, leaning in to nip at his lower lip in a way that makes him groan. “Though if memory serves, I seem to recall you saying something about honoring the team’s curfew tonight?” You trail openmouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw. “Wouldn’t want to be … sleep deprived before the race.”

Charles’s fingers flex against your hips as he lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re really testing my willpower here.”

“Payback for all those times you’ve tortured me.” You punctuate the statement with a sharp nip to the sensitive skin below his ear, making him jerk against you with a strangled sound. Pulling back, you smirk at the glazed look in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He blinks slowly, then his gaze narrows in a way that makes heat flare across your skin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that later.” His voice is low, almost a growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“I look forward to it.” You lean in until your lips are nearly brushing his again.

“Tease,” Charles accuses, though his kiss quickly swallows any further retort.

You lose yourself in the press of his mouth, the exploring glide of his hands over your body, the undeniable chemistry that still sometimes takes your breath away. When you finally break apart, gasping for air, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads resting together.

“Thank you,” Charles murmurs after a long beat of comfortable silence. “For always knowing how to pull me out of my own head. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“That’s what partners are for,” you say simply, brushing back the silken strands of chestnut hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are so warm, so full of love and adoration, you feel it envelop you like a cozy blanket. “I’ll always be here to lean on, just like you are for me.”

Charles catches your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. “And I’m grateful for that every single day. Facing the good times and bad, together.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles. “I know Suzuka will never be easy, not with the weight of the memories here. But you make the burden feel lighter. Like no matter what, I’ll be okay as long as I have you by my side.”

You lean in, brushing a featherlight kiss across his lips. “Always. No matter what the future holds, you’re stuck with me, Leclerc.”

A slow, utterly content smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He steals another lingering kiss before glancing toward the pit area, where the last few stragglers are packing up for the night. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I suppose we should try to get some rest before tomorrow.”

Sliding off the tire stack, he offers you his hand, that warm gleam still dancing in his forest-colored eyes. “Though maybe we could indulge in a long, hot shower first? You know, to … unwind after such an emotionally draining evening.”

You raise an eyebrow at his transparent attempt at nonchalance, but can’t help a smirk from tugging at your lips. “Why, Mr. Leclerc, are you propositioning me?”

“Would that be so terrible?” He tugs you into his arms, leaving a trail of teasing kisses along your jaw. “After all, we did have quite the … charged conversation just now. I’d hate for all that pent-up tension to distract us on track tomorrow.”

You let out a breathless giggle as his wandering hands and lips leave tingles across your skin. “Well, when you put it that way … I suppose a nice, relaxing shower could be just what we need to clear our heads.” Looping your arms around his neck, you meet his heated gaze through lowered lashes. “Lead the way, liebling.”

Charles’ responding grin is nothing short of wolfish. “With pleasure.” Scooping you up in his arms, he heads for the parking lot at a swift pace, leaving the weight of Suzuka and its ghosts behind for the night.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening as you bring your Ferrari across the finish line, tires smoking from the incredible pace. Your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio, congratulating you, but the words are drowned out by the thunderous cheers echoing around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.

You can hardly believe it. Your first season with the Scuderia and you’ve just won the Italian Grand Prix — on the hallowed ground that your father once ruled. The sea of fans decked out in red is a sight to behold, celebrating wildly as you complete the cool-down lap.

Pulling into parc fermé, you kill the engine, the high-pitched whine slowly dying away. Undoing the straps, you clamber out, still trying to process what just happened. This is really real.

“You!”

The familiar voice makes you turn. It’s Charles, beaming from ear-to-ear despite settling for second place today. He pulls you into a massive hug, squeezing you tightly.

“I can’t believe you just did that! Amazing drive!”

You laugh, giddy with joy and adrenaline. “I still can’t believe it either! Everything just … clicked.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Charles chuckles, ruffling your sweat-damp hair. “You were incredible out there. Absolutely brilliant.”

Hearing the praise from your boyfriend means everything. You know how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get this far. And he’s still your biggest supporter.

The two of you finally pull apart as the rest of the team makes their presence known, congratulating you with bearhugs and massive pats on the back. You did it — you brought the victory home for Ferrari at the Temple of Speed.

After the chaos of the post-race celebrations dies down a little, it’s time for the podium ceremony. You can’t wait to stand up there, basking in the adulation of the wildly passionate Tifosi. As you make your way out with Charles and the third place finisher, the crowd’s cheers swell to a new eardrum-bursting level.

Climbing the steps, you take your spot on the top level, heart racing as you look out over the endless sea of fans. The air is filled with brilliant red smoke, passionate flag-wavers creating mesmerizing patterns. You’ve seen Grands Prix in Italy before, but being up here, having actually won — it’s on another level entirely.

Speeches are made, anthems are played, and then it’s time to crack open the podium champagne. As the bottles are picked up, a rolling chant starts building in the grandstands:

“La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

The sound shakes you to your core. Tears instantly spring to your eyes.

Charles, beside you on the second step, grins and nudges you. “Listen to them! You’ve done it — you’ve made them fall in love with you just like they did with your father.”

Looking down at him with misty eyes, you mouth, “Thank you,” so overwhelmed that you can’t speak. He slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The two of you share a soft kiss as the chanting grows louder and louder.

As you pull back, gazing out over the surging tide of humanity, faces beaming up at you in adoration, it finally sinks in. This moment — winning at Monza for Ferrari, with Charles by your side, the Tifosi embracing you wholeheartedly — is beyond anything you ever could have dreamed.

The emotions pour out in waves of joy and pride and disbelief. You raise your bottle high, echoing the chants and cheering your heart out to the crowd. They roar back even louder, feeding off your energy in the way that only this group of diehard fans can.

Once the champagne showers subside, giddy fans whistling at you and Charles canoodling on the podium, it’s time to head back down. But the celebrations are just getting started. The team wants to keep the party going.

On the drive over to Maranello, you find yourself sandwiched in the backseat between Charles and your race engineer, Ricky. Everyone is grinning like maniacs, high on the thrill of victory, singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs.

“Solo per lei! Principessa di Monza!” Ricky bellows, gently elbowing you. The rest join in, filling the car with the chant of “Only for her! Princess of Monza!” You can’t stop giggling, leaning into Charles, deliriously happy.

Once you finally roll up to the factory, the party spills out of the car and into the streets. The entire workforce has turned out, waving huge Ferrari flags, beating drums and sounding air horns in celebration. You’re immediately swarmed, being passed from hug to hug as champagne is sprayed in joyful arcs.

They finally manage to sweep you, Charles, and most of your garages inside the factory, where long banquet tables have been set up in the main hall. An enormous cheer goes up as you enter, sparkling wine sloshing from hastily poured glasses all around you.

The meal that follows is a total blur — amazing food, flowing alcohol, raucous toasts, and the happiest pandemonium you’ve ever witnessed. You keep getting tugged from conversation to conversation, everyone wanting to hear how the race played out from your lips. Charles sticks by your side the whole time, looking on with sheer pride.

At one point, you end up going shot for shot with Fred Vasseur, the team principal pouring vodka like his job depends on it. “La mia principessa!” He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. “You’ve made us all so proud today!”

He hoists his glass. “To our Princess! The Princess of Monza!”

The chant starts up again all around you. “La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”

You beam at them all, squeezing Fred’s hand. No words can describe this feeling, being embraced so completely by your team — your family. This is what you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. Following in your father’s footsteps, bringing glory to Ferrari, carrying on the legend.

The party rages on long into the night. At some point, you lose track of time completely, delirious with exhaustion from the whirlwind of emotion.

You come around for a moment, blinking in the dim glow of the factory lights. There’s quiet rumbles of laughter around you, echoing off the walls. Looking around blearily, you realize you’ve been tucked into a makeshift bed fashioned from a pile of Ferrari t-shirts, nestled in one of the car assembly spaces.

Charles is there too, cradled against your side, one arm wrapped protectively around you. The rest of the team — your PR officers, engineers, mechanics, everyone — is strewn about in similar nests, all of them totally conked out.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle deeper into Charles’ embrace, feeling his lips brush the top of your head. This bizarre, wonderful scene seems to encapsulate everything about being part of the Ferrari family. It’s chaotic and overwhelming and unlike anything else in the world.

But most of all, it’s home.

As you start to drift back to sleep, savoring the lingering scent of champagne and motor oil, one final chant echoes in your head:

La principessa di Monza.

La principessa di Ferrari.

***

11 Months Later

The last few laps feel like they’re happening in slow motion. Every turn, every gear shift, every tiny input to the steering wheel is magnified tenfold as the circuits count down. The pressure is immense, but you’ve been here before. You can do this.

“Stay calm, stay focused,” your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “The calculations look good. Just bring it home steady.”

Nodding to yourself, you downshift entering the stadium section, the roar of the massive crowd surrounding the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez swelling in your ears. This is it — your chance to join the likes of motorsport’s greatest heroes by winning the Formula 1 World Championship.

Your first victory at Monza, being crowned the “Principessa di Ferrari” by the adoring Tifosi, was a dream come true. But this … this is what you’ve worked towards since you were old enough to understand what your father achieved. To etch your name into the history books forever.

The laps tick by agonizingly. Every time the pitboard comes into view, your heart rate spikes. But you’ve got a comfortable gap to second place, managing the race perfectly. Just a few more corners now.

“Final lap, final lap,” your engineer calls out. “Looking brilliant. Stay comfortable and you’ve got this!”

You suck in a deep breath to steady your nerves. Out of the sweeping Curve 3 and onto the pit straight, the crowd’s thunderous cheers are reaching fever pitch. You can see the seas of red-clad fans absolutely losing their minds, knowing the woman they idolize is about to achieve immortality.

Crossing the finish line, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding for what feels like ages. The emotion is overwhelming — a combination of pure elation, disbelief, and total exhaustion.

You did it.

World Champion at last!

You cruise around, yelling unintelligibly into the radio as the celebrations kick off around the circuit. There’s confetti in the air, smoke flares going off in brilliant shades of red, and a full-throated roar that could probably be heard all the way back in Europe.

Pulling into parc fermé, you switch off the car, letting the weight of the moment sink in. Tears of joy prick at your eyes as the magnitude of your achievement hits home. Ever since you were a little girl, running around watching your papa, this has been the ultimate dream for you.

And now, it’s finally happened. You’re a World Champion. Just like him.

The first person to reach you is Charles. He comes sprinting over from his own car, bounding past the marshals without a second look. One glimpse of the huge smile plastered across his face is all it takes for you to dissolve into giggles and delirious tears.

“You did it! You brilliant, brilliant woman, you did it!” He shouts, grabbing you up in his arms and spinning you around in a whirlwind hug.

“I can’t believe it, Charles! It felt like a dream … like it wasn’t really happening!”

You’re both laughing and crying at the same time, drunk on the euphoria of the moment. Clutching each other tightly, you press your foreheads together, trying in vain to compose yourselves.

“I’m so proud of you,” Charles murmurs, gazing at you with adoring eyes. “You worked so incredibly hard for this. You deserve everything.”

Surging forward, you capture his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. For a few brief moments, the two of you are alone, lost in the depth of your emotions and your all-encompassing love for each other. Nothing else in the world matters but this perfect second frozen in time.

You finally break apart, breathless, when the rest of the team sweeps in to congratulate you. They swarm around in a laughing, whooping mass, jumping up and down, hugging, chanting your name over and over.

“To our champion! The Queen!”

The cry comes from Antonio, one of the veteran mechanics who’s been with the team since your papa’s days. He clasps your hands tightly, gazing at you with pride.

“Sei la regina! The Queen of Ferrari!” He hollers over the raucous din, tears shining in his eyes. “Just like your father, you’ll reign forever!”

Your eyes start brimming over again, overwhelmed. The tears roll down your cheeks, smearing streaks of sweat and grime from the race. But you can’t stop beaming.

All at once, the rest of the crew picks up on Antonio’s declaration. Their cheers and chants coalesce into one booming refrain:

“La Re-gi-na! La Re-gi-na!”

The sheer adulation washes over you in waves, every face beaming up at you in utter reverence. You find yourself struggling to take it all in. In a few incredible seasons, you’ve elevated yourself into the realm of legend in their eyes.

Charles wraps his arms around you from behind, steadying you as your knees start to go weak. You can feel his smile radiant against your neck as he cheers and whoops right along with the rest of them.

“You hear them?” He chuckles, kissing your temple. “It’s all for you, mia regina! My Queen.”

Hearing your love, your partner, your other half call you that sets off a fresh round of giggles and sobs. Turning in his embrace, you loop your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply.

When you finally part, you look out over the still-roaring crowd, many of them carrying elaborate signs with intricate drawings depicting you as a regal sovereign. Some have fashioned ornate crowns out of random merch and foam, holding them high. Others set off flares and smoke bombs in Ferrari red.

For a moment, their euphoric cheers fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Closing your eyes, you let the enormity of the moment wash over you, embracing the pride and humility and disbelieving joy.

This is your coronation. The new ruler of the Scuderia — la regina di Ferrari.

“La Regina di Ferrari! La Regina del Mondo!”

You can only chuckle in disbelief, Antonio and Ricky carefully taking your hands to hoist you up onto their shoulders in throne-like celebration. Charles is right by your side, standing vigil as your King Consort.

As the party spreads out around you, confetti and smoke filling the air, you look out across the ecstatic crowd. All you see are fervent faces, worshiping you as their new Queen of the World.

It’s a delirious scene that you never, ever could’ve imagined. And yet it feels so natural, so right. Like you were born to be in the center of this storm of jubilation. This is your true home.

And now, you’ve taken your rightful place as its ruler.

Mexico City burns long into the night in tribute to the newly-coronated Queen. Tomorrow, the party will likely continue all the way back to Maranello. But in this moment, you’re lost in the swirl of ecstasy, allowing yourself to be swept up in the currents of adoration.

La Regina di Ferrari.

La Regina del Mondo.

***

Eight Years Later

Jules can barely contain his excitement as you and Charles help him into the little red race suit. He’s practically vibrating with energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Easy there, petit coureur,” Charles chuckles, ruffling Jules’ hair affectionately. “We’ll get you suited up and on the track soon enough.”

“I’m gonna beat everyone!” Jules declares confidently. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“That’s my boy,” you say with a wink. “Just like your Papa and me.”

Charles grins and pulls Jules into a hug. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Today’s just for fun though, remember? No official points or anything.”

“I know, I know,” Jules says impatiently. “But I’m still gonna win!”

You laugh and swing him up into your arms, peppering his face with kisses until he squeals with delight. “Whatever you say, liebling. Now let’s get you out on that track!”

The three of you make your way out to the karting circuit, hand-in-hand. You can already see a small crowd starting to form along the fences, phones and cameras at the ready. A familiar scenario, even at such a low-key local event.

“Mama, Papa, look!” Jules points excitedly. “Those people want to take pictures!”

“That’s right, schatzi,” you say gently. “Your Papa and I are pretty well known in motorsports.”

“Like movie stars?” His eyes go wide.

Charles laughs. “Something like that, I suppose. More like … really famous racecar drivers.”

“Whoa ...” Jules seems to be processing this new realization. “You’re the best ever, right? The bestest?”

You share an amused look with Charles. “Well, we’ve had our fair share of success,” you hedge.

“Your mother is a multi-time World Champion,” Charles says proudly. “As am I. We did pretty okay, I think.”

“Woooaahh!” Jules looks absolutely awestruck, like his little mind has been blown. It’s both adorable and bittersweet — your own child, only just now grasping the level of your accomplishments and fame.

The crowd has grown considerably by the time you reach the pit area, people pressing against the barriers in hopes of getting a glimpse of the royal family of Maranello. A small team of event staff try valiantly to keep order, but it’s a losing battle.

“Excuse me! Y/N! Can we get a photo?”

“Charles! Over here, please!”

“Oh my god, is that little Jules? He’s so cute!”

Jules clings a bit closer to you and Charles, startled by the commotion. You pull him protectively against your side.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just some fans who are excited to see us.”

Charles gives the crowd a regretful smile and a small wave before ushering you both past the security team and into the pit area. The calmer, more controlled setting seems to ease Jules’ nerves.

“Why were all those people yelling and taking pictures?” He asks with a small frown.

“Like I said, we’re pretty famous racers,” Charles explains patiently. “A lot of people know who we are and want our autographs or photos with us.”

“Like celebrities!” Jules says, the admiring light returning to his eyes.

You laugh and ruffle his hair again. “Something like that, yeah. Your Papa and I have had a very successful racing career over the years.”

“The best careers,” Charles amends with a wink at you. ���Multiple world titles each.”

“World titles?” Jules looks utterly baffled by the concept. “Like … the best in the whole world?”

“Exactly,” you confirm, feeling that familiar swell of pride. “We were the fastest drivers in the world, for a few years at least.”

“Whooaa ...” Jules seems torn between awe and disbelief. “You’re like … superheroes!”

You and Charles both crack up at the adorable comparison.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Charles laughs, “but I suppose to some we come pretty close, eh?”

He scoops Jules up and swings him around, making him shriek with laughter. You watch them with a content smile, suddenly aware of how blessed you are to have this life — your incredible husband, your precious son, the career successes you both achieved. It’s more than you ever could have dreamed.

“Alright,” Papa says, setting Jules back down. “Why don’t you go grab your kart and we’ll get you out on the track? Think you can take on the world champions?”

Jules gives a determined nod, that familiar fire blazing in his eyes — the same look you’ve seen in your husband’s familiar green ones a thousand times over the years. “You bet! I’ll show you how it’s done!”

With one last hair ruffle, you send him scampering off excitedly. Charles slides an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

“He’s something else, isn’t he?” He murmurs against your temple. “So much like us at that age. I can already tell he’s going to be a hell of a driver someday.”

You lean into his embrace with a contented sigh. “He is … and just look at how the crowd reacted to him. He’s barely grasped that we’re famous, and now he’s already getting mobbed himself. Our little star in the making.”

Charles makes a rueful sound. “We’re going to have to get used to that, I suppose.”

“Oh, I think we can handle it,” you say lightly. “We’ve had plenty of practice being in the spotlight, after all.”

He laughs and drops a kiss to your hair. “That’s true enough. As long as we stick together, we can get through anything.”

“Exactly.” You turn in his arms to face him properly, cupping his jaw tenderly. “You, me, Jules … nothing else matters as long as we have each other.”

Charles’ eyes are warm with devotion as he gazes down at you. “My soulmate. My family. How did I ever get so lucky?”

He leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet, the rest of the world temporarily fading away. You lose yourself in the familiar comfort of his embrace, the love you share-

“Ewww, gross! Stop kissing!”

You break apart with a laugh to find Jules making over-exaggerated gagging noises nearby.

“And the moment’s ruined,” Charles teases, keeping an arm looped around your waist.

You bend down to Jules’ eye level with a mock stern look. “You just wait until you’re all grown up with a sweetheart of your own. Then you’ll understand.”

He scrunches up his nose theatrically. “Never! Girls are gross!”

You and Charles share an amused look.

“If you say so,” Charles chuckles. “Now let’s get that kart fired up.”

Jules’ entire demeanor shifts in an instant, that fierce competitiveness surfacing once again. He scrambles into the cockpit of his little kart and takes firm hold of the wheel, looking suddenly years beyond his age.

“You’re going down!” He declares brazenly. “I’ll leave you both in the dust!”

And just like that, the proud parents are replaced by your familiar racing mentalities — the thrill of competition, the desire to win. You share a conspiratorial grin with Charles.

“Is that so?” He taunts playfully. “In that case, no more taking it easy on you two.”

You bend down to kiss Jules’ forehead, unable to resist a parting quip. “Promise you won’t be sad … because Mama always wins.”

With that, Charles heads off to grab his own kart, leaving you and Jules alone for a brief moment. He looks up at you with shining eyes.

“You’re my hero, Mama,” he says simply. “And Papa too. I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”

You feel your heart swell fit to burst, filled with more love than you could possibly put into words. Bending down, you pull your beautiful little boy into a fierce hug, eyes shining with unshed happy tears.

“Oh liebling … you already are. You’re everything we could have dreamed of and more.”

You press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection. When you finally pull back, there are indeed tears shining in your eyes.

“Now go show your parents what you’ve got, baby,” you say with a watery smile. “I can’t wait to see you out there.”

Jules gives you a determined nod, eyes blazing with that trademark fire. “You got it, Mama! Get ready to lose!”

With that, he slams down the visor on his helmet and revs the little engine. You step back with a laugh, watching him peel out onto the track with all the confidence and flair of a seasoned pro. Like parents, like son indeed.

By the time Charles rejoins you, his own kart idling beside yours, Jules has already completed a couple of warm up laps. You can’t resist shooting Charles a smug grin.

“Well, well … looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He drives just like you.”

Charles snorts, clearly trying to downplay his obvious pride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s all your genes coming through.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a sudden commotion from the fences draws your attention. The crowd has grown even larger, people pressing against the barriers with raised phones and voices calling out excitedly.

“Oh my god, it’s them!”

“They’re so cute together!!”

“Over here, please! This way!”

You share a resigned look with Charles as event staff rush to try and control the growing swarm.

“This is what it’s going to be like from now on, isn’t it?” You murmur. “Our little family, constantly in the spotlight.”

Charles shrugs, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he watches Jules blaze by. “What else is new? We’ve been there our whole careers. At least this time, we get to share the fame together … as a family.”

You lean into his side with a contented smile. Out on the track, Jules whips past in a blur of determination, completely unbothered by the fawning crowd. Just a little boy living out his dream, regardless of who his parents might be.

“You know what?” You say softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Charles drops a kiss to your hair as the roar of the crowd and engines swells around you. “Me neither, mon amour. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

[checkeredflagggs]

White Dog Cafe

pairing: max verstappen x pet cafe!owner

summary: while daniel forgets plans made with max, max has a meet-cute

a/n1: had this idea while playing a solitaire game and had it immediately plotted out 🥰. Sorry it took awhile to actually get it to you though… November started out rough…

Private Messages

white_dog_cafe

liked by user, yourbff, maxverstappen1, user and 97,455 others

white_dog_cafe: officially open for business!

view all comments

user9: can’t wait to visit!

user10: YEEEESSSSS!!!!

user11: omg dream job acquired!

↳white_dog_cafe: if you’re in the area, feel free to stop in and apply! We still have a couple of openings

↳user11: literally running to you now!

yourbff: you got this!! ITS GONNA BE AWESOME!

↳yourusername: thank you babe

user12: Ariana (max verstappen) what are you doing here???

↳user13: the crossover i didn’t know i needed but am getting anyway!

↳user14: right? Like surprise of the century

↳user13: I guess it makes sense? They’re in the same area I guess and we all know max likes his cats…

↳user14: true! But still not something i expected

Twitter

user1: seriously? Like this could be anyone…

↳user2: apparently we get desperate for information and or gossip this deep into summer break

↳user1: I can’t believe anyone would be this desperate

user3: look at that rain though…

user4: where on earth is he?

↳user5: somewhere in Europe?

↳user6: what?

↳user5: apparently he and Daniel are spending part of the break exploring Europe!

↳user6: Maxiel forever!

user7: I saw him!

↳user8: seriously??? Spill!

↳user7: I was sitting in a local library window seat and so wasn’t the closest to him but he kept checking his phone and texting someone. When the rain started, he ducked into the building next to him

↳user8: i wonder who he was texting

↳user7: I’d guess Daniel if they were together

Private Messages

white_dog_cafe

liked by user, maxverstappen1, yourbff, user, and 223,469 others

tagged: localshelter1, localshelter2

white_dog_cafe: come on down! We’re teaming up with localshelter1 and localshelter2 for an adoption day! All adoption fees will be waived and part of the proceeds from the sales from the cafe itself will go back to the shelters!

view all comments

user15: oh my god…

↳user16: I love everything about this!

↳user17: the pet themed cupcakes…

↳user16: what are the stuffed animals for?

↳white_dog_cafe: we also partnered with a local toy store — each stuff animal has a matching live animal up for adoption! Something small for the little kids to hold onto while their new animals get used to their new homes

↳user16: omg that’s so thoughtful and perfect

user18: leo! Did he actually get adopted?

↳user19: I was there! Yes he did! Some guy came in and Leo made a direct run right to him. The owner laughed and said something like “looks like you’ve been adopted”

↳user18: 😍😍

↳user19: no joke it was like a romcom set up, the smile on this guys face…

localshelter1: a big success today! We currently have no occupants!

↳localshelter2: neither do we! Thanks to white_dog_cafe, for the first time in 5 years we are EMPTY!

↳white_dog_cafe: it was an honor to work with you! Same time next year?

↳localshelter2: you know it!!

user20: that’s great news!

↳user21: it was such a lovely event! I’m glad I got the chance to go!

↳user22: did you adopt?

↳user21: I did! A lovely little orange cat 💜

Twitter

user23: god his thighs…

↳user24: I know!!

user24: free titties? Just hanging out? For free???

↳user25: bite bite bite

user26: glad to see he’s relaxing!

↳user27: yes!

user28: is that a girl??? In the second photo???

↳user29: ok grandma let’s get you back to bed

↳user30: no no no let’s let her cook

mvupdates

liked by user, user, user, and 822,455 others

mvupdates: are our eyes deceiving us or does max have a new cat? Max was on stream last night and when his camera slipped, it caught a glimpse of a cat! Eagle eye viewers say that it doesn’t match pictures of Jimmy or Sassy

view all comments

user31: that is definitely a grey cat! No jimmy or sassy!

↳user32: max so bored during the off season that he resorts to getting a new cat

↳user33: he’s not the only one tbh…

user34: i swear to god i heard max call the cat leo

↳user35: leo??? Like Charles’ leo?

↳user36: Jesus we need a race again…he’s not gonna name his cat Leo

↳user34: I know what I heard!!

user19: wait a minute??

↳user19: i KNOW that cat

Twitter

user28: MAX VERSTAPPEN!! I told you all there was a girl by his side!!

↳user29: oh god not again

↳user30: no no no she has a point

user37: oh my god???

↳user38: this was NOT on my bingo card for this year

↳user37: I don’t think it was on anyone’s…

user39: and suddenly the universe screamed out in agony…THAT SHOULD BE ME

↳user40: no but for real??

↳user41: HE WAS AN OPTION???

↳user42: I guess for like 2 minutes…😭😭😭

user43: ok but when did he and k*lly break up?

↳user44: well she hasn’t been seen since Miami this year…

↳user44: and that was a CHILLY 🥶 interaction, I’d guess it happened around then if not before

user46: stargazing on the highway tonight!

↳user48: big mood

↳user49: same! Sleepover party?

↳user46: I’ll bring the drinks

Private Messages

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, user, and 125,222 others

yourusername: Visiting old friends and making new ones!

view all comments

user50: oh my god is that Leo?

↳yourusername: it is! Turns out he’s a little rascal

↳user50: he’s a cutie tho!

↳yourusername: ridiculously cute…and he knows it 😂🙄🥰

↳user50: they always do

user51: are those…are those the verstappen cats? Jimmy and Sassy?

↳user52: who?? What are you talking about?

↳user51: formula 1’s max verstappen! He’s got 2 cats that look exactly like those two cats in the third picture

↳user52: and those cats would be in a post from the owner of a pet cafe???

user19: I’ve connected the dots

↳user53: you’ve connected the dots?? What are you talking about?

↳user19: yourusername is dating max verstappen! He’s been rumored to be in a new relationship and he was definitely the man I saw adopt leo at white_dog_cafe a couple of weeks ago! And look! He’s in the likes!

↳user19: I’ve connected the dots!

↳user53: you’ve connected shit

↳user19: IVE CONNECTED THE DOTS

yourbff: cats are your kryptonite aren’t they

↳yourusername: noooo…

↳yourbff: 🧐🧐🧐

↳yourusername: but they’re so cute!!

↳yourbff: sure you’re not talking about their owner instead??

this comment was deleted

Private Messages

yourusername has posted 2 stories

[such a good passenger! | COTA 😍😍]

user19 replied IS THAT A VERSTAPPEN CAT?!?

maxverstappen1 replied glad to see you’re on your way. Cats doing ok?

↳yourusername yes yes yes we’re all doing fine

↳maxverstappen1 I just want this to go well

↳yourusername it’s gonna be fine

yourbff replied get it girl!!

↳yourusername omg why am I friends with you again

↳yourbff cause I know too many secrets

↳yourusername for real 🙄

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, charles_leclerc, and 923,123 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: COTA you were amazing. Max that was…simply lovely ☺️

view all comments

user19: I KNEW IT!

↳user53: ok grandma let’s get you to bed

↳user19: but I was right!!!

↳user53: literally no one cares anymore

danielricciardo: great entrance for your first race!

↳yourusername: thank you! Of course it was nothing compared to yours in ‘22

↳danielricciardo: well not everyone can be me!

↳user54: oh god i can just tell their friendship is gonna be so good!!

charles_leclerc: so great to meet you and your cat leo ☺️

↳yourusername: it was nice to meet you too!

↳maxverstappen1: Don’t even.

↳yourusername: but Leo is actually max’s!

↳maxverstappen1: liefje

↳charles_leclerc: OH??? 🤭🤭🤭

↳maxverstappen1: I am going to hunt you down in Mexico and run you right off the track

↳charles_leclerc: you’d have to catch me first! 🤗

alex_albon: coming for our brand huh?

↳yourusername: we could never! But maybe a playdate?

↳alex_albon: absolutely!

user55: I can’t believe that one user was right…

↳user19: I TOLD YOU

↳user55: oh god she’s stalking me. Mom help I’m scared

↳user53: I’ve got her

maxverstappen1: it was simply lovely to have you here with me

↳yourusername: awww 🥰🥰🥰

↳yourusername: nowhere else i'd rather be

↳maxverstappen1: cute but definitely a lie

↳yourusername: oh yeah absolutely. I looked it up — there’s a cat cafe with a indoor waterfall like 20 minutes away

↳maxverstappen1: well what are we waiting for?

↳yourusername: just you, you slow poke

↳maxverstappen1: 🙄🙄

[delilahsturniolo]

shut up — m.s

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based on this ask

summary: matt gives y/n mr wrinkleton to quiet her down while having sex.

warnings: smut, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, fluff at the end

written by @delilahsturniolo

“so maybe you should shut up.”

“hmm, and maybe you should shut up.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

i gripped the sheets tightly as Matt thrusted into me from behind, he held both of my wrists behind my back as his hip movements were slow and sensual.

the only thing about this, was that nick and chris were home. my head was buried into the pillow, stifling my moans.

“o—oh my god matt!” i screamed louder than i should’ve. matt lifted my head up, his tattooed arm slung around my neck gently.

“sh shh, quiet baby. don’t want my brothers to hear how desperate you are hm?” matt teased. if he wasn’t holding me up right now, i would have for sure collapsed.

tears stung my eyes from how good it felt, my soft moans filled the air. matt’s cock pumped in and out of me, sending me over the edge.

he pulled out slowly, his thumb circling my clit teasingly. my warm tears spilled onto his arm from the pleasure.

I screamed as his fingers collected my slick, matt’s free hand immediately went over my mouth.

“shut up, doll. you were doin’ so good..” matt spoke softly, despite his fingers punishing my pussy.

i moaned against his hand as his fingers continued playing with my wetness, i felt a knot in my stomach form.

“just can’t stay quiet, can ya?” matt whispered into my ear, teasing my folds with his cock once more. i let out a soft sob, i would be lying if i said i wasn’t enjoying this though.

mr wrinkleton sat on matt’s bed next to me. matt grabbed mr wrinkleton and let go of my wrists, letting me hold on to his stuffed animal to subside my sobs and desperate moans.

i buried my face into mr wrinkleton as matt entered me once again, my mascara stained mr wrinkleton, but i didn’t care.

“good girl…doin’ so good f’me..” matt praised, leaning over to press kisses on the back of my neck as he continued pumping in and out of me from behind.

he placed a hand on my back, causing me to arch more.

“g—gonna cum matt!” my voice was muffled as i shoved my face into mr wrinkleton, my tears spilling onto the stuffed animal.

matt nodded. “go ahead baby.”

as soon as he granted me permission i didn’t hesitate to release with one last moan of his name. matt came a few seconds later.

matt let go of me, collapsing on the bed next to me after he pulled out.

i panted, matt let me catch my breath before saying anything.

i lifted my head up, grabbing mr wrinkleton and holding the stuffy in my arms, i turned over to look at matt, blushing as a smile crept onto my face. matt chuckled.

he brushed the stray tears from my face gently.

“you okay love?” he asked, his voice filled with sincerity and love.

“mhm..” i answered sleepily.

“mr wrinkleton saved you there.” matt joked, i nodded, laughing.

matt scooted closer, wrapping his arms around me and engulfing me in a warm hug. my hand went up to his hair, twisting his brown locks in my fingers.

“let’s get you cleaned up mkay?” matt lifted me into his arms, carrying me to the bathroom.

© delilahsturniolo

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join the taglist here! ✨

a/n: this is kinda shit but i hope u liked it anon!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[ssahotchnerr]

Aaron having to bring his daughter with him to work for whatever reason? She’s tiny enough to not be running around and mainly just sleep on his chest all day. It’s fall outside and she’s in a warm teddy bear outfit so it’s literally like a stuffed animal on his chest as he works. She wouldn’t remember anything she saw in files but he makes sure her head is never near anything bad. Makes his heart warm and happy when the others realize that she’s there and coo over her and the outfit. Penelope takes pictures of them to send to you too 😭🖤

soak it in

i'm going to CRY cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, small foyet reference

aaron's entrance into the bullpen piqued the interest of several, as it was different from any other, usual morning. not only was his briefcase in hand, but also a carseat, and a diaper bag was slung proudly over his shoulder. there were smiles from the team, some small nudges to look amongst the other units, as today's visitor was easily welcomed.

during breakfast, you had been notified your dentist appointment had been moved up, due to the office closing earlier within the day for whatever reason. with such short notice and jessica being unavailable, aaron was the obvious solution, and your daughter came to work with him - until you were done running a few errands and could drop by to retrieve her.

for the meantime - as she was there - aaron opted to work strictly on the no-pictures-included files. while she was never in close proximity to a file regardless, and today's onesie's hood happened to shield her eyes, and her little mind wouldn't process or remember anything - aaron didn't want to take any chances. he yearned to keep his daughter as far away from that, all the horrors the world possessed, for as long as he possibly could. jack had gained the knowledge - that monsters were real, just in human form - sooner than he would have liked. sadly.

currently baby girl was tucked into his chest, her right cheek smushed against him. she dozed off not too long ago; she had gotten a bit antsy and luckily his swivel desk chair allowed him to slowly rock her as he worked, in addition to soothingly shushing her, whispering that it's okay; ultimately calming her down. her little fingers found a near death grip on his shirt, clinging onto him as she slept.

when he had felt the pull of fabric, he gazed down and couldn't help but smile. aaron also took a moment, to soak it all in. the window of time where this was possible, was limited; her against his chest, small enough to be cradled in one arm, quiet and secure in the comfort of his office. all in too fast progression would aaron blink, and she would be way more interested in exploring and bouncing off the walls.

the thought immediately snapped his heart into two. if only she could stay that tiny, forever.

as he wrote, flipped a page, switched files, aaron was extremely careful to his movements. he tried not to rustle her, despite her being comfortably laid in his not-preoccupied-by-writing arm.

the sudden creak of his door lifts his eyes, penelope entering. the quietest of aw’s leaves her as she approaches, with an extra spring in her step at the sight before her. in addition, she doesn't hesitate to whisk out her phone.

"i didn't know this cutie was here today." the words leave her in a gentle, yet high, pitched tone, giddiness laced within. her jaw fully drops as she catches sight of the cozy onesie the littlest hotchner inhabits, "oh my god look at her outfit!"

“garcia.” aaron lightly warns as her volume heightens, his eyes flicking back up to her from his paperwork, his pen slowing.

“i know sorry sorry, i just neeeed to share the cuteness with the mrs.," penelope grins, aiming her camera at baby girl, and aaron, snapping a few pictures. "this is just, too dang adorable. she needs a copy, i need a copy, and i'll make you a copy too, sir."

that tugs aaron's lips into a smile, a small chuckle leaving him. "she's cute, huh?"

"um hello? cute doesn't even begin to cover it. please tell me you're the one who dressed her today. if yes, i might have to scream. just might."

"not today." aaron admitted, dropping his pen and fixing the small hood, which had fallen a bit too much in front of baby girl's face. again, his lips couldn’t help but pull into a smile. god, he loved being a girl dad, and a dad in general. "but, i may have picked it out."

"i was right. i'm going to scream." quick to realize what she said, penelope held out her hands in defense - before aaron even had the opportunity to open his mouth - clarifying with wide eyes. "internally! i'm screaming internally."

aaron took a slight pause, before speaking. “actually, about the copies - ”

penelope’s shoulders dropped in defeat, her lips pulling to the side - an equivalent to an ‘eek’. “was i too enthusiastic?”

“on the contrary,” aaron’s expression softened, laughing gently as to again, not rouse baby girl. “would you mind bringing me two? i’ll need one for in here, and for my wallet.”

[blooming-violets]

private #5 bent over a table while somethings baking in the oven. is it too much to ask for tasm peter parker bending reader over?

[location based smut prompts]

The To-Do List

[tasm peter x fem!reader]

(reader is described as having a ponytail that is long enough for Peter to wrap around his hand and use as leverage)

His birthday cake was nestled happily inside the heated oven. 

She got up early to make it for his special day. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep out of her face while she had prepped and she was still in her pajamas from this morning. She had planned to have the cake in the oven, get her shower done, and place out his presents on the table all before he woke up. 

Peter, of course, had other ideas. 

He leaned against the kitchen doorway with a lopsided grin as he sleepily took in the sight of her. She paused when she saw him there, silent as ever, and crossed her arms. 

“You are not supposed to be awake for another hour,” she chastised. 

Thirty-five looked good on him. Every year he seemed to get more and more handsome. 

His eye wrinkles grew as his smile widened. A strand of dark hair fell down his forehead and he absentmindedly brushed it away. He was shirtless with nothing but a pair of dark boxers to keep him decent. 

She admired how defined his chest was. A hinting of his six pack was peeking out from just under the surface of his lean body. 

“I smelled cake.” His voice was thick and scratchy with lingering sleep. Peter’s morning voice was one the sexiest sounds she’d ever heard. 

She smiled as she rolled her eyes. It had hardly been in the oven for more than five minutes and it was already enough to get him out of bed. 

“The kitchen is a mess. I was going to clean it all up and have your presents out and I was going to be all dressed up and looking extra cute. You ruined it all with your stupid nose.” 

Peter laughed as he strode across the room to slip his arms around her waist. She looked up to admire him and wiped at a staining of toothpaste still clinging to the side of his lips. She caught it with her thumb and shoved it back into his mouth while he licked it off. 

“You already look extra cute,” he mumbled around her thumb. 

“I’m literally wearing your old, hole filled shirt and bright pink fluffy pants. This is not how I wanted you to see me this morning. It’s your birthday. I wanted it to be special.” She tugged her thumb back with a huff. 

Peter stepped back to appreciate her outfit in the morning light. She had already been in bed by the time he crawled through their window last night.

“I like it,” he stated. “It’s hipster.” 

She let out a laugh in response, “I don’t think you know what hipster means, babe.” 

Peter shrugged, “It means you dress like a bum, right?” 

“Oh my god, why don’t you go back to bed and try this again in an hour when everything is all set up, okay?” 

“No,” he whined. He latched himself onto her back, snaking his arms tightly around her stomach to press her against him. “I’m up. It’s my birthday. Say happy birthday to me and tell me you love me.” 

She grinned, snuggling back against his bare chest, “Happy birthday and I love you.” 

“That sounded insincere but I will take it.” His hand slipped up under her loose shirt to cup a warm hand over her breast, lazily palming it while he nibbled at the edge of her ear. He always liked the feeling of her nipple coming to life and growing harder against his hand. He held onto her chest like one might cling to the safety of a favorite stuffed animal. 

She groaned, “Your presents were supposed to be all set out nicely on the table. Instead you’re just greeted with a kitchen disaster of my cake baking. Are you sure you don’t want to sleep for another hour? I know you’re tired from last night. You were out late.” 

Peter began to slowly waddle them back and forth towards the kitchen table, refusing to release his grip from around her waist or remove his hand from her breast, “I know of a present I can unwrap right here…” 

She gasped under her breath, “Peter. This is no time. I’ve got a list of things to do.”

She felt him laugh quietly against her ear.

“Yeah and I’ve got a list of things to do, too. A whole list. Let’s see what the first thing to do is…” he pretended like he was reading off an imaginary piece of paper as he checked it over. “Ah, yes!” 

He slipped his hands out from her shirt and placed a gentle hand between her shoulder blades to bend her over the kitchen table. With a quick swoop, he tugged down both her pants and underwear, leaving them hanging around her ankles. She let out a shocked cry.

“Unwrap presents…check!” He chuckled to himself, giving her bare ass a soft slap. “And what a beautiful present it is. Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Wow, you really know me, baby, I’m super impressed.” 

“Peter,” she whined, pushing herself back up. “Not fair. I haven’t showered. I’ve got to get ready. I’ve-”

He cut her off with a kiss. His lips crashed against her and his tongue forced its way into her mouth to stop her from trying to protest further. She could taste the mint from his toothpaste still clinging to his tongue and she moaned as he pressed his hips into hers. He was growing harder by the second. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled against her lips with a smile. “My birthday. My rules.” 

“Okay,” she said with a dreamy sigh. It wasn’t hard to convince her. Her complaints were more for show than anything else. If Peter wanted her, he had her. “I love you, Pete.” 

“If you love me so much then why don’t you take off that shirt so I can see my second present.”

She did as she was told, stripping it from her body, until she was standing naked before him. The bulge in his boxers twitched which made her smile. She loved the fact that she could make him so hard from sight alone. 

Peter’s hand reached out to brush a calloused thumb across her hardened nipple, “Beautiful.”

He lifted her up onto the table so she was sitting closer to him and he moved between her legs. They wrapped around him so she could feel the heat of him soaking through his boxers and against her pussy. His eyes traveled down to her chest, taking in the sight, and sighing happily. His head dipped down so he could capture the waiting bud between his wet lips. 

She let out a satisfied moan and ran her fingers through the back of his hair while suckled on her. His tongue bathed her breast, teeth nipping at her nipple, and soothing it over with quick kisses and light sucking motions. His mouth was magic. He didn’t even need to touch her pussy for her to already be soaking through his boxers as she ground against him. 

“Feel that?” He groaned, bucking his hips. “Feel how hard I am?” 

She whimpered.

“All for you,” he whispered, finding her lips once more to kiss her deeply. 

All for her. 

It was his birthday. She should probably be getting down on his knees for him and sucking him off or tending to him in some way but she was nothing but putty in his hands. Lost in the feeling of seduction he was casting over her. 

Peter dragged her down off the table, smirking at the wet spot she had left behind, and spun her around. He folded her back in half over the table, scraping his nails down the length of her spine and over the swell of her ass. 

“The next thing on my to-do list,” he breathed, his voice low and deep. “Is you.”

She heard him discarding his boxers and suddenly felt the wet, hot tip of cock slide up her open folds. She was more than ready for him. He never had to do much to have her begging for more. Her hips grinded against the air as if trying to draw him in closer but he only continued to tease her with the tip.

“Someone’s eager,” he commended, giving her ass another slap. 

“Peter, please,” she gasped. 

He kept up his tantalizing torture. Every time his cock bumped over her aching clit, her hips would jerk backwards, and she’d let out a quiet cry.

“Please what?” He asked with an air of innocence. 

She groaned at his teasing, “Please fuck me! I want you to fuck me.”

“Aww,” he cooed. “Does my poor baby need my cock?” 

She whined and nodded. 

“You got up so early, didn’t you?” His nails dragged along her hips, making her squirm, as she humped frantically in an attempt to get at his cock. “You got up early to make my birthday so special. You baked me a cake. It smells amazing, doesn’t it? Smell it, baby.”

Her eyes widened in frustration, “Peter! Fuck me! Please, stop it.”

He ignored her pleas, getting off of them, as his cock twitched between her thighs, “Did you slip that cake into the oven just for me?”

She was nearly sobbing from her own arousal, ready to attack him if he didn’t shut up and fuck her soon. She arched her back to better entice him, wagging her ass and rubbing it against his hips. She pushed herself up with her arms so he could get a peeking view of her tits swaying in wait for him. 

That seemed to do the trick because he had gone silent as he stared.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Happy birthday to me.” 

“I want it hard, Peter. Use me,” she whispered in an effort to finally push him over the edge. “I’m yours.”

He lined up his cock to her entrance and eased himself inside. She nearly doubled over against the table at the delicious feeling that flooded through her body. 

“Yes, yes, thank you, baby, thank you,” she cried. 

���You really love this cock, don’t you?” He breathed. “Do you love this cock more than me?” 

“No, baby, never. I could never-”

He pulled out and rammed the full, thick length back into her with a loud slap. 

She shrieked, falling forward into a flurry of mumbled moans, “I do, I do, I do. I love it more than you. I love it more than anything.” Tears pricked in her eyes from the overwhelming sensations taking over. 

Peter chuckled to himself, “That’s my girl.”

Her ass slapped against his body with each plunging drive of his cock as he took her. Fast and hard, just like she asked. Every thrust felt like it was reverberating through her, waking up all her senses, making her feel more alive than ever before. It was sheer bliss. Anticipation already began to build. He knew exactly how hard to take her. Peter could be rough but he never went past her limits. He knew her inside and out. He knew just where to push her before retreating back to safety. The sounds of her tumbling moans and each inhale of breath was all he needed to direct his path. 

He was filling her body, stretching her, taking her, building her up to that beautiful place of divinity. Her nails clawed at the table, scratching at the wood, trying to find some kind of purchase to steady herself with. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Peter!” She cried. 

“That’s it, baby,” he panted. “I got you. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” 

He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and jerked her head upwards. She arched her back to accommodate the move as he held her against him. She could feel his ragged breaths against her cheek and listened to his erotic panting in her ear. The sound was enough to almost send her flying straight into an orgasm. 

The hand not keeping a tight hold of her ponytail wrapped around her to grab at her chest. He molded her breast between strong hands. 

She loved taking his cock. Loved it so deep. Thrusting. Hard. Stretching her. Forcing her to take him. Peter was thick. Thickest man she had ever been with. He pushed her walls to their max. His beautiful body and the sounds he made when he fucked her where like heaven to her ears. 

That familiar, sensual pressure began to grow inside of her with shallow waves lapping at the edges of her mind. Soon they would turn into giant swells. Taking her over until it was all she could feel. 

His hand slipped from her ponytail to wrap around her neck. He gave a gentle squeeze. Nothing too forceful but enough to send her flying even faster towards that tsunami of pleasure. She was so close. So ready. 

“Harder, Peter,” she sobbed. “Hard. Please. I’m-I’m…close…need it hard. Take me.” 

Peter was never to deny a request like that. He shoved her back over the table and tumbled on top of her, humping frantically with long, heavy strokes into her cunt. He could feel her walls tightening. He could feel her body changing. 

“Come on, baby,” he urged her. “Cum on my cock. Cum for me. Let me feel you.”

The universe exploded into blinding light. 

She didn’t care how loud she was. Didn’t care if the neighbors would hear. In fact, she wanted them to. She wanted them to know exactly how well Peter Parker could fuck his woman. 

Her toes curled and her legs kicked up as the sensory overload rocketed through her with golden waves of pure dopamine. 

Peter took her straight to the edge and held her there, spasming and sobbing, as he continued to fuck her through the orgasm. Even as the waves slowly receded, they still lingered in tiny aftershocks, due to his relentless pounding. He had gotten her where she needed to be and now it was his turn. 

He reangled himself into her, getting a better grip as he held onto her hips, and switched up his rhythm to slow. Peter liked to feel everything. He wanted to drag it out and feel her body wrapped around him. From fast and hard to slow and steady. His change of pace caused a low, drawn out moan to escape from her throat. 

“You like that, baby?” He panted. “You like feeling every inch of me?”

All she could do was whimper in response as her sex spasmed again around him. This was a man who knew how to lengthen an orgasm. She was completely helpless to him. Her body was his play thing. 

“Let me hear how much you love me, baby,” he whispered down in her ear as his cock buried straight to the hilt inside of her. “Let me hear you.”

She struggled to make any noise besides sobbing whimpers and broken cries. 

He moaned in response, “That’s it. Those are those sounds that I love so much. My poor baby, all ravaged on my cock. Can’t even speak.” 

He gave a small shudder and she knew he was close. She did her best to work her hips to meet his thrusts, squeezing him with her walls, sucking him in, clenching down. 

“That’s good, baby, that’s good.” He moaned, his voice slowly losing itself as he got closer to the edge. “Ooh, fuck, keep that up. ‘M gon’na cum inside ya’kay?” 

She loved it when he filled her. She loved feeling him drip down her leg as she carried him around with her. She would bathe in his semen if he wished it. It was his birthday, after all. The birthday boy could come wherever he pleased. 

His long, slow strokes worked her up as another, tiny orgasm rippled through her. That seemed to be all he needed to follow. 

Peter let out a low groan, his thrusts become more unrestrained with each passing second, and she took him. All of him. 

With the sweetest of cries, he emptied himself inside of her. She could feel him swell and pulse until she was impossibly full. That tiny orgasm grew into something much bigger, taking over her body along with him, as she felt him collapse on top of her, both shaking, as he bit at her shoulders with soft, love bites until he finally calmed down. 

He stayed like that, laid against her back and squishing her into the table, until he cock began to soften and he sadly slid back out. She tumbled back into his arms as they both fell to the spooning position against the kitchen floor. Naked, wet, and breathing heavily. 

Peter’s hand found the comfort of her breast once more. 

“Mmm,” he hummed. “Best present I could ask for. Thank you, baby. You’re too good to me.” 

She grunted in response, still finding words to fail her. Instead, she rolled over in his arms, hooking her leg through his, and leaving a trail of kisses across his face to show much she adored him.  

His eyes closed as he smiled happily at the feeling. 

Eventually she would have to get up. Eventually she would have to shower and get dressed and clean the kitchen and set up his presents and frost the cake…but for now…

For now she was happy to just lay here on the floor in his arms.

[gojorgeous]

how do the jjk men treat you when ur on ur period? suguru specifically hehe <3

✰ JJK MEN: WHEN YOU'RE ON YOUR PERIOD ✰

pairing(s): gojo, geto, nanami, choso x afab!reader content: (MDNI 18+ only), nsfw-ish/suggestive, periods, period blood, period products, pet names, lots of fluff! a/n: i hope you like anon!! you have great timing cause i’m getting my period and i also have a uti pray for me besties i need help and antibiotics. left out toji and sukuna cause…. nah LMAO. enjoy, and remember ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!

✰ GOJO:

Lowkey loves when you’re on your period, but is just barely smart enough to never tell you that. 

His favorite part is that you always want more cuddles, which means more cuddles for him. 

Thinks period products are really amusing– loves playing with your hot water bottle cause it’s squishy. Finds those ones that look like stuffed animals at the store and brings home like five of them for you. 

Will definitely buy you pads/tampons but not without the obligatory “what size is your pussy” text. Won’t buy them until you respond with “extra super pretty” and then sends back this emoji -> 😋.

Highkey likes period sex. Knows it can relieve your cramps and will use that as an excuse at every opportunity if you’ll let him. 

Is always on some cheesy ass shit murmuring in your ear about how doing it on your period “bonds your souls”, too. 

Constantly offers to get you pregnant so you can avoid your period for the next nine months… he’s only half joking.

Will actually skip work to stay home and cuddle with you if you give him even the slightest inclination that you don’t want him to go. 

Watches movies with you and has gotten surprisingly good at rubbing little circles on your tummy that help with cramps.

 Keeps the house stocked with candy, but, then again… it’s always stocked with candy.

“Babe. Look what I just found at the store.”  You watch with furrowed brows as he sets the bags on your floor. You’re curled on the couch, a blanket tucked up around your neck. He’d made sure to roll you like a burrito before he’d left.  He pulls out… a cow? It looks like a stuffed animal, but when he shakes it you hear something sloshing around inside. You raise a brow. “Ummmm–”  “It’s one of those hot water bottle thingies! For your cramps!” He tosses the poor cow on the floor and digs around in the bag again. “Oh my god, they had so many. I got the cow, the dolphin–” He tosses a dolphin out of the bag, followed by a puppy, a raccoon, and a cat. “Do you want me to put one in the microwave for you?”  He looks far too excited to turn down, even though you just heated up your old hot water bottle minutes ago. You smile and nod. “Yeah, baby. Thanks.” 

✰ GETO:

Mans TAKES CARE of you. Like… fully. 

Is really sympathetic and gentle when your cramps are killing you– brushing your hair back, rubbing circles on your tummy, letting you put his warm hands wherever it hurts. 

Runs you a warm bath and climbs right in with you. Makes you lean back against him while he gives you a massage and works out all the knots in your neck and shoulders. 

Buys you period products before your period starts if he remembers. If he doesn’t he’s happy to run down to the store. Doesn’t need to ask which ones you like– he already knows.

Wraps you up in the comfiest blankets and cuddles with you wherever you ask. Gives the best cuddles, too. Rubs your back in a way that has you falling asleep in seconds.

Makes sure you take your meds on time and brings you a glass of water. 

Secretly loves period sex. Will never push you for it, but gets super horny at just the thought. Loves the sight of your blood on his dick. Makes him feel possessive of you in a way that’s kind of scary. 

“Sugu…” you whine. Your cramps are bad. You’ve been curled in a ball all morning, even with all the meds Suguru has been giving you. “It hurts so bad.”  You feel him shifting behind you and then his hands gently prying you to lie on your back. You whimper, the pain spiking again as soon you roll out of the fetal position. His face appears above you, a couple stray strands of black hair tickling your cheeks. His smile is soft, but full of sympathy as he settles over you.  “I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could make it go away…”  He moves down your body, settling between your thighs and resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. You sigh when you feel his fingers skate over your tummy, rubbing little circles into the skin that somehow work wonders for the pain. You sigh with relief, a bit of the tension ebbing away. “That feels nice…”  Your body relaxes a bit, finally getting a break from the incessant pain. Suguru only smiles, looking up at you through hooded eyes when he presses a kiss just below your belly button. You don’t fail to notice the way his thumb is sliding under the fabric of your panties.  “I can think of something that would feel even nicer…” 

✰ NANAMI:

Prepares for your period. 

Has your cycle marked down on his calendar so he always knows when you’re starting. 

Stops by the store a couple of days ahead of time to buy pads/tampons/meds and your favorite snacks. 

Runs a bath for you every night and fills it with all of your favorite soaps and scents. 

Cooks. Mans knows how to cook and does extra of it when you’re on your period. Will make you nutritious meals and urge you to drink water, but always brings you something sweet if you’re craving it. 

Heats up your hot water bottle every thirty minutes without you ever having to ask. 

Lays out a fresh change of clothes for you whenever you’re in the shower. 

Cuddles you whenever you want, but only after he’s tended to all of your other needs (meds, food, water, etc.). 

Will have sex if you want, but will never push you for it. If you just want the relief from your cramps, he’ll just use his fingers to get you off and then pull you back into his arms.

“Time for your bath, sweetheart.”  You nearly grumble in protest, but how can you do such a thing when he takes such good care of you? Still, you don’t want to move. Just existing hurts, much less walking to the bathroom.  Despite your resistance to saying it aloud, Nanami still seems to understand what you’re thinking. No more than a second later he’s scooping you into his arms and carrying you to the bathroom.  “You know you’ll feel better after, love.”  You nod weakly against his chest. “Will you get in with me?”  He pauses. He’s got dinner to make and he wanted to change the sheets for you… One nuzzle of your face into his neck has him throwing all those plans out the window.  “Of course, princess. I’ll get in with you.” 

✰ CHOSO:

Is new to this stuff so he lowkey freaks out. 

Worries that you’re actually in danger cause… there’s blood??? 

Chills out eventually, but is still irrationally convinced that you’re injured. 

When i tell you this man is at your BECK AND CALL, I mean it. He will do every little thing you ask. Fetches water, food, snacks– whatever you need. 

Mans is panicked when he can’t find the candy bar you want at the grocery store. 

Happily buys period products for you but has to facetime you cause the poor baby is overwhelmed and confused by all the options. 

Is kind of attached to you like glue. Thinks you’re somehow more breakable in this state will hold you in his arms permanently apart from when you need to bathe, eat, or use the bathroom. 

Actually freaks when you have a bout of cramps that makes you hiss in pain. Cannot believe you have to do this every month and hates feeling so useless in taking the pain away. Eagerly learns that he can put his warm hands on your tummy and it helps.

Is actually amazed when you tell him that sex helps with the cramps. Worries about hurting you, but is completely down. Mans is definitely not afraid of a little blood lmao.

“Baby… there are so many…”  You can’t help but stifle a laugh looking at your boyfriend’s stressed expression through your phone screen. He’d run down to the store to get you some more pads– you just hadn’t anticipated how overwhelming the experience would be for him.  “I know, Cho. I’m sorry. Here– back up so I can see the whole aisle.”  He does as you ask, flipping the camera around so you can see what he’s looking at. You have to bite your lip this time to keep the laugh in. You’ve never realized just how many options there really are. “The ones toward the bottom right, baby. With the pink box.”  The camera shakes a little as he follows your directions, arm sticking out like he’s playing pin the tail on the donkey.  “These?” His hand hovers over a box that is pink but not the pink you need.  “Down a couple racks.”  Finally, his hands close around the right box. “Thank you, baby. I didn’t think about how confusing this would be for you…”  The camera flips again and you grin at the soft soft smile on his lips. “Don’t apologize. Want me to grab some candy, too?”

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @enchantedsylveon, @httpstoyosi, @bbyxxm, @6kabuki, @myriliy, @complexivelovely

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[sagesbard]

Actor au! My love 💟

Reader is a camera worker afab for the NSFW parts. Oh yeah NSFW MINORS DNI

Captain Curly 🎉

He met you on the first day of set. You were messing with a camera tripod that wasn't working properly. Muttering swears as you look at the metal contraption.

You were too busy trying to figure out the stupid camera to notice the man looking at you.

As shooting went on there was a day the director wasn't there. The producer stepped up, only issue was the producer was an asshole. It was a student film anyways.

As they shot a scene you realize one of the actors was going too far near the road during a flashback scene.

You automatically shot up behind the camera. Meanwhile the producer was too busy flirting with another person.

"Cut! Cut you dumbasses." You shout, setting down your headphones as you run from behind the camera. "Fucking stop Jim!" You yelled as Jimmy and Daisuke looked at you confused, stopping in their tracks.

"The fuck Y/N!?" The producer shouted once he realized what had happened.

"Are you fucking stupid!?" You yelled, finally snapping at the guy in front of you. "They were way too close to the fucking road you know cars just speed through here. You say as if on cue a car speeds past them.

"Yeah yeah, know your God damn place camera girl." The producer sneered. Curly then walked up.

"Calm down Daniel, she was just looking out for the crew, you obviously weren't." Curly said, defending his coworker.

"Watch it Grant, I can have your ass fired if I wanted to." Daniel said, crossing his arms as if he won.

"I'm sure Vivian would love to hear that you fired her only actor that knows what he's doing. No offense guys" Curly says. Turning towards his costars for a moment.

"none taken" Daisuke says. He took the job out of boredom. Jimmy took the job after you begged him for a week straight. And Swansea took it because Daisuke offered him up.

Curly volunteered for the job because he thought you were cute and wanted to spend more time with you.

Daniel scoffed and walked away. Muttering something about the two of you.

Curly laughed as the other man walked off.

Ever since then the two of you got closer.

After shooting wrapped up he asked you out.

Curly was nervous before your first date.

He took you out to a movie.

You ended up talking through a majority of it, ranting about the different shots and how they did the practical effects.

He loved listening to you the spark you had for film.

One date because two, then three, then before you two knew it he was asking you to move in with him.

Of course you said yes, you two got an apartment your last year of college.

NSFW

The first time you hooked up it was after the cast and crew party after wrap up.

The two of you were wasted and one thing led to another.

Even drunk he was still so sweet with you. He tasted like whiskey and citrus.

The way his hips moved against yours in a dance of fiery passion.

The morning after you expected him to be gone. But actually you woke up to the smell of coffee.

Curly leaned against the doorway, a mug in his hand as he greeted you. "Morning doll." He said, kissing your forehead.

That was when you realized that he was someone you wanted, no *needed* in your life.

Afterwards sex with him was always sweet.

A service top 100%

One day he needed to blow off steam and of course being the amazing girlfriend you are, you offered to help.

You couldn't walk the next day.

Daisuke🌺

Like I said he picked it up because he was bored.

He saw you fighting with the camera and fell in love.

The way you excitedly ranted about the inner workings of your favorite films.

He asked you out not too long during shooting.

He took you to an arcade.

He did his best to win you one of the crappy stuffed animals from the claw machine.

He spent all his tokens but on the last go he won you a little dog plushie. You still keep it on your bed to this day.

NSFW

A switch leaning towards bottom.

He's not normally submissive but he's inexperienced. So he wants you to be in control so you can feel good.

When he is top though hes a little rough with it. Panting and whining like a dog while he thrusts into you non stop.

Probably has a power play kink (I forgot what it was called) but you're the one that has most of the power.

Let him call you ma'am and he goes all night.

Same with you praising him.

Anya

She was originally in tech with you. She worked on lights until the original actress quit the project due to the producer being an asshole.

The director knew she'd do amazing at the role and set her up with an audition. Of course she knocked it out of the park.

You supported her from behind the scenes.

You were the one to ask her out.

You two went to the park and had a picnic.

Soon you two graduated from college and life went on. You moved in together and got a cat, Anya getting a job as a nurse and you working your way up to a director.

I can't really think of any NSFW ideas for Anya rn if anyone has any idea pls share :)

Jimmy.(He's not a rapist in this AU I don't condone any of his actions as a victim of SA and rape)

You had to convince him to audition.

You were friends since highschool and believe it or not he did theatre.

You saw the way he looked with the spotlight on his face, like it was his only home.

So when you were starting a new project you BEGGED him to audition.

He was hesitant, he hadn't acted in a while so he was a bit rusty.

He walked out of the audition room nervously.

By the time the cast list was out he ran up to you, excitedly holding the paper of acceptance as he hugged you tightly.

You two both carpooled there, sometimes you drove sometimes he drove. You always got coffee before even if y'all were late.

When he asked you out it was at the cast and crew after party.

He took you to an off-Broadway play. He wasn't a fan of musicals. He still has some song in his playlist though.

Afterwards you went on more dates then you two moved in together.

NSFW

He tries to be gentle he truly does.

But when he's in the moment he can't help but slam his hips against yours and bite a little too harshly.

He immediately apologizes after though and give THE BEST aftercare in the whole world.

He 100% whimpers when he's close.

He also goes kinda braindead when he cums. Mumbling stuff like "fuck I love you" or yes over and over again. You live for the desperation in his voice every time he's close.

Anyways guys- lmk how you feel about the actor au? I love it sm because there's little room for angst because it feels like everyone gets a happy ending 😁 also for the producer and the director I used a random name generator y'all can change it if u want <3

[fatkish]

The Hashira and their Children

——————————————————————————

(Gyomei is introducing his chubby newborn baby to the other Hashira)

Gyomei: This is Yusuke. Y/n just gave birth to him a few weeks ago.

Mitsuri: aww! He’s so cute!

Shinobu: he looks just like you

Gyomei: would you guys like to hold him?

(After everyone but Sanemi has held the baby)

Gyomei: Shinazugawa, would you like to hold Yusuke?

Sanemi: *holding Yusuke* you look like a lump of mochi

Baby Yusuke: *face contorts and he starts to cry*

Mitsuri: Sanemi, how could you? You made him cry

Tengen: nice going Sanemi

Sanemi: *grumbling as he hands Yusuke to Gyomei* I didn’t mean to make him cry

——————————————————————————

(Kyojuro and Y/n are trying to take a family picture but their 3 year old won’t stop crying)

Y/n: what are we going to do, they won’t stop crying?

Kyojuro: Just give them a box of raisins

Y/n: Seriously?

Kyojuro: *pulls out box of raisins and hands it to his child* there see

Three year old: *immediately stops crying and is waving the raisins around*

Y/n: I swear they get that from you

——————————————————————————

(Sanemi was left at home to look after his 4 year old and 1 year old alone. He was watching them but took a small nap. He wakes up to find his oldest has drawn all over his 1 year old in marker)

Sanemi: what did you do to your brother?

Four year old: *holding the marker* wasn’t me

1 year old: *laughing*

Sanemi: *mumbles to himself* help me clean your brother up now

——————————————————————————

(Conversation between Kyojuro, Sanemi and Tengen)

Tengen: I’m pretty sure my neighbor thinks I’m a terrible father

Sanemi: just ignore them

Kyojuro: you’re not a terrible father, what makes you say that?

Tengen: they saw me chasing my naked three year old twins around the front lawn. Again

Kyojuro: why were you chasing them

Sanemi: wait, what do you mean again

Tengen: they finished taking their bathes but refused to put clothes on

Tengen: then they unlocked the front door and began running around. As soon as I caught one, I’d start chasing the other, but the one in my hands would slip out as soon as I caught the other one. My neighbors saw the whole thing

——————————————————————————

Y/n: *walks into the bathroom where their five year old son is* oh my god! What did you do

Son: *smiles and looks at their mom*

Sanemi: *comes running in* what’s wrong? What happened?

Y/n: take a look at your son, notice anything missing

Sanemi: *stares for a minute* what happened to your eyebrows?

Son: I gets rid of them. Now daddy and I match

Y/n: *turns away snickering*

Sanemi: OI!

——————————————————————————

Kyojuro: *is asleep*

3 year old: Daddy wake up

Kyojuro: *continues to sleep*

3 year old: *grabs TV remote and proceeds to smack Kyojuro with it* Daddy up!

Kyojuro: ow! I’m up

——————————————————————————

(Giyuu, y/n and their 5 year old are in their backyard)

Y/n: and just what do you think you’re doing?

5 year old: *holding a giant Japanese salamander like it’s a stuffed animal* I found him, can we keep him?

Y/n: *looks at the salamander that’s as big as their child* where did you even find that

5 year old: in the river… so… can we keep him?

Y/n: *flabbergasted* where do you expect to put him?

5 year old: in the pond with the fish

Y/n: I’m sorry but that thing will eat the fish

Y/n: *looks at Giyuu* you want to say anything?

Giyuu: …. We could build a second pond for him

Y/n: *throws hands in the air* seriously

Giyuu: what’s his name?

5 year old: Mr. Flabbs

——————————————————————————

Y/n: honey, do you know where our daughter is?

Gyomei: I believe she is in the kitchen….

Y/n: *after walking into the kitchen* oh my god no! Spit that out!

3 year old: *runs out of the kitchen*

Y/n: Gyomei catch her!

Gyomei: *catches daughter and holds her up*

Y/n: spit that out right now!

3 year old: *spits out cockroach into Gyomei’s hand*

Gyomei: please tell me this isn’t what I think it is

Y/n: I wish I could

——————————————————————————

(Y/n, Sanemi and their 3 year old are at an appliance store)

Y/n: *looking at washing machines with Sanemi* what do you think of this…. Where’s our child?

Sanemi: they were right here

Y/n: *look’s around and is mortified* oh please no

Sanemi: what?

Three year old: *is sitting on one of the display toilets with their pants down singing while grunting*

Y/n: stay here while I get the wet wipes

Sanemi: *covers his face in shame*

Store attendant: *trying so hard not to laugh*

——————————————————————————

(Obanai, Mitsuri and y/n are giving their 2 and 3 year olds a bath in the tub)

Obanai: *leaves the bathroom to grab something real quick*

Y/n: how are the kids?

Obanai: just got them into the bath

Mitsuri: *getting the kid’s pajamas ready* they are just so cute

3 year old: *shouting* boat! A boat!

Y/n: did you put toys in the tub?

Obanai: no, we don’t even have any boat toys

Mitsuri: then what is…

Obanai, y/n and Mitsuri: *runs into the bathroom*

(They walk into the bathroom to see their 2 and 3 year olds in the tub with a turd floating around)

3 year old: look a boat!

Mitsuri: *covers her face*

Y/n: *scrambles to quickly remove the kids from the tub*

Obanai: *disgusted as he empties the tub and removes the turd* I’ll run another bath

Y/n: *looks to Mitsuri* still think they’re cute?

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