#can I just say I am shaking in excitement

[jungwnies]

the dad who stepped up | carlos sainz (cs55)

୨ৎ : featuring : carlos sainz x fem!reader/singlemom!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : not the biological father, but rather the father who stepped up!

୨ৎ : genre : romance & fluff ୨ৎ : word count : 947

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was such a cute little story, i can only imagine the spanglish going crazy in this household <3 psa... intentionally all lowercase

carlos never thought about being a dad so soon. sure, he wanted kids someday, but he always figured it would come later, after racing, after settling down. what he didn’t expect was for you to walk into his life, a single mom with a baby boy who barely knew how to say papa yet.

he met you when your son, nico, was only eight months old. you had been hesitant at first, not wanting to bring someone into your child’s life unless you were sure. but carlos? carlos was patient. he never rushed you, never forced his way in. he just showed up.

at first, it was small things; holding nico when your arms were full, rocking him to sleep when he got fussy, making faces at him across the dinner table just to see him giggle. then, before either of you knew it, nico wasn’t just some baby carlos happened to know. he was his boy.

now, four years later, carlos can’t imagine life any other way.

—

"okay, buddy, one more time, but this time big swings," carlos calls from the backyard, watching as nico grips his tiny golf club, determination all over his little face.

you stand nearby, sipping on a lemonade, watching your two favorite people as the warm breeze rustles through the trees.

nico, tongue sticking out in concentration, takes a swing, too hard, and the plastic ball rolls about a foot away.

"that was amazing!" carlos exclaims, throwing his hands up as if nico just hit a hole-in-one at augusta.

"it barely moved!" nico whines, stomping his foot.

carlos kneels beside him, adjusting his grip. "the trick isn’t power, campeón (champion), it’s control. even papá sainz had to learn that."

you smile, shaking your head as you watch them. “carlos, if you turn him into a golf snob before he even learns how to ride a bike, we’re gonna have a problem.”

carlos grins over his shoulder at you. “you say that now, but when he’s winning the masters, you’ll be thanking me.”

nico nods along, even though he has absolutely no idea what the masters is. “sí, mami! (yes, mommy!)”

your heart melts every time nico switches between english and spanish so naturally, something carlos had made sure to teach him from the moment he could talk.

—

later that evening, after dinner, you’re curled up on the couch together, nico snuggled in between you and carlos with his favorite book in hand.

“papá, can you read the book en español? (papa, can you read the book in spanish?)” nico asks, eyes wide with excitement.

carlos raises an eyebrow, clearly pleased. “sí, pero solo un poquito, eh? (yes, but just a little, okay?) i don’t want you getting confused.”

you smile, resting your head against carlos’s shoulder as he begins reading, seamlessly switching between english and spanish.

"the little dog ran through the…el bosque (the forest)…looking for his friend… pero no lo encontró (but he didn’t find him). so he kept running and running…hasta que… (until…)"

nico listens intently, repeating some of the words in his tiny voice.

“bosque!” he says proudly.

carlos grins, tapping his nose gently. “eso! muy bien, campeón. (that’s it! very good, champion.)”

you watch as carlos pauses and turns to nico. “and what’s a bosque?”

nico scrunches his little face, thinking hard before answering, “umm… a forest?”

carlos nods approvingly. “exacto! (exactly!)”

you laugh, shaking your head. “i swear, this kid is gonna be fluent before i am.”

carlos smirks, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “well, mamá, looks like you need some spanish lessons too.”

you playfully elbow him, making him chuckle.

just as you think nico is starting to doze off, his tiny voice pipes up.

“papá, i’m sleepy… pero i want uno más cuento. (papa, i’m sleepy… but i want one more story.)”

carlos lets out an exaggerated sigh, feigning exhaustion. “one more? vale, uno más. (okay, one more.)”

he flips the page, his voice soft as he continues reading. you feel nico’s breathing slow, his tiny body relaxing between the two of you.

you glance up at carlos, who is watching nico with that same gentle, loving look he always has. he catches you staring and gives you a small smile, his fingers reaching out to brush over your hand.

“you know,” you whisper, “you never had to do any of this.”

carlos furrows his brows. “what do you mean?”

you swallow the lump in your throat. “i mean… you didn’t have to be his dad. you could’ve just dated me and kept your distance. but instead, you’re his person. and i just… i don’t know. i hope you know how much i love you for that.”

carlos studies you for a moment before shaking his head, as if the thought of not stepping up for nico is ridiculous. he lifts your intertwined fingers, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

“i didn’t have to, amor,” he murmurs. “i wanted to. i chose this. i chose you. i chose him. and i’d do it again a thousand times over.”

tears prick your eyes, but before you can say anything, carlos leans down and places a gentle kiss on nico’s forehead.

“buenas noches, mi pequeño campeón. (good night, my little champion.)”

nico barely stirs, already deep in sleep.

carlos turns back to you, smiling softly. “now come on, mamá, let’s go watch bad reality tv and pretend we don’t have to wake up early tomorrow.”

you laugh, shaking your head as you follow him to the couch, where his arm instinctively wraps around you.

carlos sainz wasn’t the father by blood.

but he was the father who stepped up.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[abbottfansstuff]

Shifting Tides

Author's Note: I have not written a story in over four years. Deleted Tumblr and AO3. No inspiration, but then I came across Abbott. Melissa.. and I am back...Hope you enjoy the story! PLEASE be honest in your feedback. THANK YOU!

Before Emily came along, it was just you and Melissa. You’d spent countless late nights grading papers, shared impromptu lunch breaks filled with sarcasm, and enjoyed those quiet moments where nothing needed to be said. Melissa Schemmenti was the one person you could always rely on—her dry humor, witty comments, and no-nonsense attitude made her stand out amidst the chaos of Abbott Elementary.

You and Melissa had a rhythm, a comfortable pattern. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. You knew exactly how she liked her coffee—lots of sugar, enough to make anyone's teeth ache. You had memorized every sarcastic comeback she had for every student situation. The two of you spent hours in the teacher’s lounge, complaining about the state of education and laughing until your sides hurt.

Life was simple back then—rooted in a friendship and something deeper. You had imagined, countless times, what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, to care for her the way she had always cared for you. The way she had always been steady, protecting and supporting you, made you want to return that same tenderness. You’d thought about it more than you admitted, the idea of her in your arms feeling natural. But until now, it had stayed in the quiet corners of your mind, tangled with the threads of your friendship, growing harder to ignore with each passing day.

But when Emily arrived, everything shifted.

At first, it was subtle. Her smile, her laughter, the way she’d pull you into conversations, trying to make a connection. It didn’t seem like much at first, but you started to notice the change in your routine. Emily’s presence began to take up more space, and with it, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something between you and Melissa wasn’t quite the same anymore.

There was a new tension in the air, an unspoken shift that you couldn’t quite place. And while you tried to ignore it, things were clearly changing.

---

You started to notice this change during Teacher Appreciation Day. The teacher’s lounge was buzzing with excitement. The air smells of flowers and sweet notes, with each desk adorned with cards and thoughtful gestures. As you make your way through the room, you find a small, elegant vase resting on the corner of the table—a gift from Melissa. Inside, there’s a beautiful cream-colored rose with a red border. It’s simple, yet so thoughtfully Melissa. The delicate petals remind you of her—refined, a little guarded, but full of care.

But just as you admire it, you hear a voice behind you. It’s Emily, holding a massive bouquet of vibrant pink and white roses, the colors of spring practically leaping from the paper. She hands them to you with a bright smile, her eyes meeting yours for a moment longer than necessary. You thank her politely, though there's an odd tension in the air. You glance around and catch Melissa’s gaze from across the room, her lips pressed tight, her jaw clenched as she watches you accept the bouquet.

You can’t miss the shift in the air—the way Melissa seems to shrink into herself, the way her fingers curl around her coffee cup. She bites her lip as she watches you, the quiet question in her eyes: Why didn’t I do more? The doubt gnaws at her, though she pushes it away. She had planned something bigger for you—maybe a lunch, something personal to show you how much she appreciates your friendship—but now, with Emily’s grand gesture, it all feels insignificant.

Before you can approach, Melissa slipped out of the lounge, leaving the cream-colored rose on the table untouched.

Barbara watched the exchange with a raised brow but didn’t say a word, her eyes flicking between you and the empty chair Melissa just vacated. The rest of the teachers continued bustling around, unaware of the silent shift in the room. You can’t help but stare at the lonely rose.

After school, you find yourself standing in front of Melissa’s classroom door, feeling the pull to check in on her. You knock lightly, the sound a little louder than you intended in the empty hallway. There’s a soft shuffle from inside before she calls out, “Yeah?”

You push the door open and step inside. She’s at her desk, papers scattered around her, the usual calm façade masking the emotion you know is just beneath the surface.

“Hey,” you say, making your way over to her desk. “I wanted to give you this.”

You place a small box on her desk—your own offering of appreciation, wrapped carefully with a bow. Melissa raises an eyebrow, her gaze flicking from the box to you.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should say anything more. But when you meet her eyes, you see something there—something vulnerable, something that makes your chest tighten. She looks at the box for a moment longer, then finally lets out a breath.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this,” she says quietly, her voice a little softer than usual.

“I wanted to,” you reply simply.

You linger for a moment, your heart racing, unsure if you’re reading the situation correctly. But in the quiet of the classroom, it feels like there’s a space between you that’s been growing for a while now, a space you’re both starting to notice more and more.

Without thinking too much, you lean in gently and place a soft kiss on her cheek, a light, tender gesture that speaks volumes in the silence.

Melissa goes still for a moment, her breath catching before she turns to look at you. There’s a softness in her eyes now, a flicker of something deeper. She doesn’t pull away, though she doesn’t say anything either, her gaze lingering on you.

You both stand there, the world outside her classroom fading away as the tension between you feels more real than ever before. Neither of you speaks, but the moment lingers. Neither of you needs to say a word to understand what’s happening.

----

A week goes by, and the field trip to the science museum is finally here, and you’re buzzing with excitement. You had been looking forward to this day—not only because of the museum but because you were planning to sit with Melissa on the bus. She had casually mentioned earlier in the week that the two of you could ride together, and you were looking forward to the chance to catch up in the quiet of the bus ride.

You sit down by the window, feeling the bus hum to life as you settle in. You spot Melissa greeting the last student boarding the bus, her smile lighting up her face when she spots you. Just as you’re waiting for her to come over, Emily walks down the aisle, her bright smile already plastered across her face. Without hesitation, she plops down in the seat next to you—the one that was supposed to be reserved for Melissa. She pulls out a bag of snacks, happily munching away, completely unaware of the unspoken plan.

“Hey! Got some snacks, want some?” Emily asks, her voice a little too chipper for this early morning bus ride.

You smile awkwardly, a little surprised, but shake your head. “No, thank you."

You glance over your shoulder and see Melissa walking down the aisle, her gaze fixed on the seat next to you. Melissa’s expression falters for just a moment—her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t say anything. Melissa slows down, scanning for a new seat. Her eyes flick to the back of the bus, and then she gives a slight shrug, taking a seat farther away. The disappointment is quick, but it’s there.

You try not to let it show, but as the bus hums to life, you can feel a strange tension building between you and Melissa. She crosses her arms, staring out the window, her body language tight and unreadable. There’s a quiet space between you now, one that wasn’t there before, and you can’t help but wonder if Emily’s cheerful presence has unintentionally created a distance that wasn’t there this morning.

Barbara, ever the observant one, notices Melissa’s mood shift and moves to sit next to her. She leans in, her voice soft but teasing. “Melissa, honey, you alright? You’re looking like you’re sitting this one out today.”

Melissa forces a grin, her eyes flicking to Barbara but not quite meeting her gaze. “I’m fine,” she replies, but her voice is distant. “Just letting Emily have her fun, I guess.”

Barbara raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push further. “Mm-hmm. Sure, honey, sure. Whatever you say.”

The trip itself is full of the usual chaos. Kids run around excitedly as you all explore the museum. You try to focus on the exhibits while attempting to ignore Emily's constant chatter.

By the time the trip back rolls around, Emily tries to take the seat next to you again. She’s beaming, telling you about some exhibit that caught her eye, but before you can respond, Barbara pipes up from the front of the bus.

“Oh, Emily, dear,” she says, her tone both playful and knowing. “Why don’t you sit next to me? I am famished, and I'm sure you have some of those snacks left.”

Emily looks up, grinning sheepishly. “I do!"

Without hesitation, Melissa rises from her seat, her gaze briefly flicking over to you before she slides into the empty spot beside you. Her knee brushes against yours, and though she doesn’t look at you right away, you feel the electric charge of the moment.

She places her hand on the edge of the seat, and to your surprise, her pinky gently nudges against yours. It’s a small gesture, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. She quickly pulls her hand back, but the unspoken connection is there between the two of you, palpable in the quiet hum of the bus.

Barbara, watching the whole exchange, leans back and winks at you. “You are welcome,” she mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

You roll your eyes but don’t say anything, the corners of your lips tugging into a reluctant smile. “You’re ridiculous, Barbara.”

You can’t help but laugh at the lightness of the moment, the tension from earlier finally beginning to melt away. As the bus heads back to Abbott Elementary, the conversation settles into a comfortable silence between you and Melissa. There’s a quiet understanding between the two of you now, something more than friendship, though neither of you is ready to admit it just yet.

It’s a small moment, but in that quiet, shared space, you both know that things between you are starting to shift—and neither of you is quite sure where it will lead.

----

It’s hard to believe it’s already been a month since the field trip. Time moves strangely—fast in some ways, slow in others. That day still lingers in your mind, but even more than that, so does the way things have shifted between you and Melissa.

Our relationship is still the same in many ways—we still spend time together, still joke around, and still move through the same spaces. But something is different. It’s in the way her eyes linger on you just a little longer than before, the way she watches you when we’re out with the group like she’s studying you in a way she never used to.

And then there was that night at the club—Emily had been getting a little too close on the dance floor. Before you could even react, Melissa was there, stepping in behind you, pressing close as she swayed with you to the beat.

“Just making sure you’re good,” she had murmured into your ear, her breath warm against your skin. But the way she held you, the way her touch lingered—it felt like more than just protection.

Even in the smallest moments, you feel it now—the accidental brushes that last a second too long, the way she always seems to find a reason to touch you, the unspoken something hanging between both of you.

Yeah, things are still the same. But also… they’re not.

"Are you ready?" Melissa's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. She stands at the classroom door, leaning against the frame with that familiar ease, watching you with an expression you can’t quite place. As always, she had come to pick you up for lunch at the teacher's lounge.

Shaking off your thoughts, you grab your things, and together, you make your way down the hall, falling into an easy conversation about plans for the upcoming winter break.

Janine and Jacob have transformed the teacher’s lounge into a Christmas wonderland—twinkling lights, cookies stacked high, and a massive tree standing proudly in the corner. They even hung mistletoe above the doorway, giggling like children who just figured out a joke.

You walk in with Melissa, your arms full of papers and a coffee cup, when Barbara steps in front of you both with a mischievous smile, holding a plate of cookies as if she's just won a prize. “Oh, look! Under the mistletoe! Perfect timing, don’t you think?”

You blink, catching sight of the mistletoe above and then looking back at Barbara, realizing you’ve walked right into a holiday trap. Melissa freezes beside you, her face going from neutral to a shade of red you’ve never seen before. She stares at you, her eyes wide with the kind of look that says she’s been caught in a situation she has absolutely no idea how to handle.

Barbara, thoroughly enjoying the discomfort she’s causing, nudges you both with a wink. “Go on, now. Just a little kiss.. for the sake of tradition” she teases.

You glance at Melissa, who’s doing her best to pretend the entire situation doesn’t exist, staring at the floor like it's about to open up and swallow her. Her voice is barely a whisper, “Go ahead, Y/N. It’s… fine.”

Before you can process what she just said, Emily, who has been watching this entire exchange with the grin of someone who knows exactly how to stir the pot, steps forward with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Alright, I volunteer!” she says with a dramatic flourish, as if she’s ready to swoop in and take over.

You freeze, your brain scrambling for a way out. But before you can even think of anything, something shifts in the air. Without warning, Melissa suddenly leans in, her eyes still avoiding yours, and presses her lips softly against yours. It’s quick, unexpected, but there's an undeniable spark in the contact. A light, lingering kiss that feels like the answer to everything unspoken between you two.

Melissa pulls away almost immediately, her face now bright red. She doesn’t meet your eyes, instead looking anywhere else in the room. There’s a brief silence as you stand there, stunned, unsure of whether to laugh or say something—anything.

Emily, who was about to jump in and kiss you herself, watches in shock. “Well, that was a plot twist I didn’t see coming!” she says with a playful grin.

Barbara, ever the observer, chuckles and winks at both of you. "Now, who’s ready for cookies?”

You and Melissa stand there, the air between you suddenly charged with a new kind of tension. Melissa quickly grabs a cookie off the plate, clearly trying to act casual, but her hands are a little shakier than usual. She keeps her eyes on the cookie, unwilling to meet yours, as she takes a small bite.

You, still slightly reeling from the kiss, glance at her. The moment feels both awkward and… strangely intimate.

“Alright, let’s eat,” she says with a slightly forced cheerfulness, attempting to brush off the whole thing. But you can’t help but feel that the mistletoe moment is far from over—especially when you catch the way she looks at your lips.

---

The night is cold, a chill creeping in as you curl up on the couch with a book. Your thoughts are somewhere else, though, distracted by everything that’s happened earlier—by the kiss, by the confusion, and the way Melissa looked at your lips.

Then, there's a knock at your door.

You open it to find Melissa standing on the other side, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her breath visible in the frosty air. She hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching yours as if unsure of what she’s looking for, before stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. She stands there for a second, not saying anything, just breathing in the quiet of the room.

Finally, she speaks, her voice quieter than usual. “I can’t stop thinking about the kiss,” she admits, her eyes dropping to the floor. She pauses, biting her lip as if trying to hold herself together. “I just needed you to know that I—I can’t help how I feel about you. I didn’t think it’d be this hard, but... here I am.”

Her words hang in the air, and you feel a rush of emotions flooding in, but before you can respond, Melissa's gaze shifts, a deep sadness taking over. “I just... I don’t want to come between you and Emily. I know she’s younger, and... more your type. She’s—she’s closer to your age, and she gets you in a way I can’t. I mean, I’m just... well, I’m not really someone who knows how to say things like this. And now I’ve gone and messed everything up,” she continues, her voice trembling, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as if trying to hold herself together.

Your heart aches seeing her so vulnerable, this side of Melissa that rarely shows through. You can feel the weight of her self-doubt. The tension from the past few weeks, the confusion about what was happening, everything is laid bare in her words.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... gotten in the way of you two. She’s probably everything you need, right? She’s fresh, she’s lively, and she fits with you. I’m just... I’m just a mess, and I didn’t mean to drag you into my chaos.” Her voice cracks at the end, and she looks away, as though the mere thought of saying it makes her feel exposed.

You feel your heart beat a little faster at her words, but you’re not sure how to respond yet. You want to say something to ease her mind, to let her know that you're here, that she’s not in the way.

Before you can say anything, Melissa lets out a shaky breath, looking back up at you, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “I just want you to be happy. I want you to have what you deserve... and I’m not sure if that’s me.”

Her words sting, though you know she doesn’t mean to hurt you. But it’s clear she’s spiraling, feeling like she’s somehow unworthy of something you both deserve. You take a deep breath, stepping closer, the space between you feeling charged and fragile.

“Melissa,” you begin softly, your voice full of reassurance. You gently reach out and place a hand on her shoulder, feeling the slight tension in her body. “Stop. You’re not in the way. This has nothing to do with age or who fits with who. It’s about us... and how we make each other feel.”

Melissa shakes her head, still uncertain. “But Emily—she’s everything you deserve. I’m not sure I can be that for you. I’m... I’m older, complicated. And she’s young, she has time, she’s—she’s everything I’m not.”

The words break something in you, and you move even closer, cupping her face gently, your thumb brushing away the tear that has escaped her eye. You know she’s in a spiral, unsure of what she truly deserves, and it hurts to see her like this.

“You’re everything I need... and want” you say, your voice steady but full of conviction. “It’s not about age or how you compare to anyone else. It’s about you and me, what we’ve built, and how we make each other better. I’m not looking for someone else. I’m looking for you.”

Melissa stares at you, her breath shallow, as if she’s processing your words. And then, after a long, pregnant pause, she slowly smiles, a fragile but relieved smile that somehow feels like a weight has lifted off her shoulders.

“I didn’t think you felt the same,” she murmurs, the tension in her shoulders easing. “I was... so afraid I was too much.”

“You’re never too much for me,” you say, pulling her closer until she’s standing just a breath away. “We’ve both been running from this for too long. Maybe it’s time we stop pretending.”

The room feels suddenly full, charged with the weight of everything unspoken that’s finally coming to the surface. You can see the relief on Melissa’s face as she lets herself believe that this—what you have—is enough.

And for the first time, she steps forward, closing the space between you, and as you lean in, the world seems to disappear. It’s just you and her, and that’s all that matters.

[piercethefic]

Spencer Reid × Plus size fem reader

(I am plus size so plz don't feel offended , I just wanna help people feel seen♡)

Warnings ⚠️ 18+ : smut + fluff - cunnilingus - p in v - reader in skirt - perv Spence - hostage situation and mention of ptsd and body insecurity CREAMPIE...(Don't try this at home)

You and Spencer met on a case . He rescued you from a bank robbery, and from that day on, he became your knight in shining armor. He counseled you when you felt the ptsd from it . He listened to your body insecurities, and he comforted you. After a few months, you fell in love. Maybe this is the time to admit your feelings .. you thought.

You asked him to come over to your apartment so you could talk.

His pov :

What could she be talking to me about? Does she know what I did? Did she figure It out? (Little did you know , he stole your dirty underwear from your laundry basket and used them while thinking about being buried between your thighs..)

He sprayed his most rich cologne and walked over to your apartment, horrified but excited.

"Hey y/n"

"Hi Spence! Come in"

He felt relieved.

You jumped into his arms. Little did you know, when you wore skirts, he couldn't hold back his hard on for you. He knew it was wrong. You were a survivor of a case he solved. But he just couldn't help it, your thighs so soft, and your hair smelled like how he only imagined angels would smell. How could he not fall in love? Your hands felt like a gentle cloud gliding over his skin.

Back to her pov :

He seemed nervous but kinda flustered. Why is that? So you ask, "Can I talk to you about something?"

"Of course"

"I love you.. I may be misreading the situation, but I really feel something for you . Ever since you saved me , I felt a need to love you. Not because you saved me , but because you see me for who I am." You hoped and prayed he didn't reject you.. instead.. he kissed you. He softly kissed you. "I love you too. I need you. Please let me take care of you .. I've wanted to show you how beautiful you are for so long , say no if you want me to stop"

You didn't say no.

He layed you down on the bed with surprising strength and pulled your panties off with one small swoop. He looked up for approval and started kissing your thighs, then without warning, he began to lick your clit at a soothing but orgasmic pace. You moaned and squished his head with your thighs, immediately noticing .. you apologized , but he shook his head and brung your soft thighs close to his head once more. You came around him as he eagerly swallowed your arousal. He kissed your thighs again as he began to kiss up your body , every curve and stretch mark , none left untouched. How gentle.

"Can I make you feel even better?"

"Yes, please."

He pulls his slacks down and positions his leaking and desperate cock on your already throbbing pussy. "Protection?" "Nuhuh, I'm clean, and I'm on bc"

He softly inserts all of his inches and thickness into you at one time. You moan in approval and relief. "I've loved you forever.. I thought the reason you invited me over was to discuss how your panties were missing" (as he moans and thrust)

You giggle "I didn't notice ... that's kind of hot"

He bites his lip and kisses your neck while ramming into you repeatedly. He will not give up until you cum around him. "I..I'm not cumming.. fuck...until you cum ..baby i can hold it" as he rubs your face In awe.

"I'm cumming soon..please keep fucking me. I feel it deep in me. please"

You came around him and your legs shook, he came inside you deep , leaving you shaking and dripping with cum.

"Can you be my girlfriend, please"

"Yes , of course"

*he cleans you up and bathes you and puts you in pj's

I hope you liked it <3 request ALWAYS open!

[showstopper35]

Comical Comets - A Texaid Fic

happy birthday @gravedwe11er !! ilysm thank you for being my friend, I hope you like this!

____________________________________________________________

"What did you say?" Ratchet's servos clenched where they were pinned against his hips. Shit. First Aid knew that pose.

"He said, uh, that-" he started before he was interrupted.

"I said I was going to drag First Aid out of here by his neck so that I can rip his aft to scrap," Vortex said flatly.

First Aid's fans clicked on, his face plate heating up as Ratchet stared between him and Vortex.

"Why?" Ratchet asked cooly, crossing his arms now.

"He...uh...." Vortex stalled, the blades on his back spinning once.

"I owe him shanix." First Aid let Vortex clamp a clawed servo over his wrist—tight, uncomfortable, and now familiar. Ratchet raised an eyebrow at First Aid, his usual morose disapproval now mixed with disappointment.

But Ratchet let Vortex drag First Aid out of the medbay because he probably thought First Aid deserved to be beaten to shreds of metal.

Vortex wrenched him harshly by the arm all the way down the hallway, his pedes almost slipping as he took longer strides to keep up with Tex's aggressive stomp-walks. Seriously, the guy always acted like he was walking into a suicide mission or something. Which, granted, he usually was.

"Was that really your excuse? You want to beat me up?" First Aid pulled his arm out of Tex's grasp as they slid into the elevator.

"The hell else am I supposed to say? I need to see you because I like your stupid face and have a surprise? I SHOULD beat you up. It could be fun."

"I hate you." First Aid grumbled.

"That's not what you said last night." came Tex's retort.

"We didn't see each other last night."

"It's an expression! Shut the hell up!"

The elevator doors opened and First Aid was back to being dragged. They were on the top level of the ship, one of the hallways with the big, wide windows that people like Cyclonus and Optimus liked to brood in front of. One of the window ledges had two energon cubes and what looked like binoculars on them. Tex pulled them onto the ledge, and First Aid noticed for the first time how he was anxiously tapping his claws against one leg, his blades occasionally twitching like he was trying to stop them from spinning. First Aid stretches his legs out on the windowsill and looks at Tex curiously. "What's this? A surprise?"

Tex leans over and punches him in the shoulder, just hard enough to sting for a second. He ignore First Aid and gestures to the window. "There's going to be some comets passing by. I heard Blastoff and Onslaught talking about it with that emo astronaut guy."

"Cosmos? He's not emo, just lonely."

"Whatever. Anyway, the comets are supposed to collide with each other and maybe the ship, so it's going to be dangerous and fraggin' AWESOME. And I...uh...wanted to watch it with you."

First Aid decided not to tease him about the sentiment for now, and instead just picked up the binoculars and looked out the window. Streaks of firey gold and white met his vision, dusting across the midnight drapes of space. Two of the comets collide, and he can see tiny pieces of sparkly rock shimmer and scatter.

"Woaaaa." he whispers, optics wide behind his visor. Tex is staring at him, his leg bouncing with nerves or maybe excitement.

"Gimme." He swipes the binoculars from First Aid and zooms in on the comets, which look like tiny, quick-moving stars from afar. Tex lets out a giggle--a genuine giggle--and then his trademark semi-concerning cackle.

"They're exploding EVERYWHERE. Fraggin awesome. Like watching spaceships crash into each other." He's giddy, and it's adorable. In a mildly worrisome way.

First Aid smiles to himself. "Yeah, it's very cool. Thanks for setting this up."

"None of that thanking scrap-OHHH THAT WAS A BIG EXPLOSION!!" Tex does this thing when he's excited where his whole body shakes, back blades rattling softly. It used to concern First Aid, but now he knows it's a happy noise. Plus, his fans weren't exactly being quiet right now. He glances back out the window for a moment, looking at the silver streaks shooting into each other.

"It's kinda pretty too. If you're into that." Tex murmurs, handing him back the binoculars.

First aid looks back at him, their servos brushing against each other as he took the binoculars.

"Yeah. Pretty."

[plasmas-arcade]

Bucky for Congress - SFW

Collaboration with @over-usedlittlespoon

Summary: After mass amounts of people start to write in Bucky Barnes for their vote for congress, Bucky decides it's time to step up, though can he commit?

Themes/Tags/Warnings: Stucky, Background Winterwidow, Crack treated seriously, politics, campaign manager tony

Word Count: 2.8k

Tony blinks at his phone, and he starts to laugh. "No way! Why didn't you tell me Bucky?" 

Steve tilts his head. "Tell you what?" 

"You're running for office!" Tony nearly chokes from laughter. "Are you serious about this?"

Bucky blinks. “What are you talking about? I’m not running for office.”

Tony shows Bucky his phone. "I don't think you have a choice. People are writing you in." 

There's a lot of posts about how Bucky is the best option for the job, and a trending hashing of #writeinbarnes. 

Steve looks shocked. "Is this one of those meemees?"

Bucky scrolls through the posts. “I don’t know shit about running for office? Surely it won’t go anywhere.”

Tony shrugs. "You never know. If enough people write you in, you might have a chance." 

Bruce chuckles as he walks in, looking at his phone. "You gonna accept the people's nomination?"

“…Should I?” Bucky thinks. “Maybe we should do one of those public appearances. Answer some questions about it to see if people really think I’m good enough.”

Tony starts to get excited. "Yes! Yes a rally!" 

Steve looks unsure. "Can't those be dangerous?" 

Tony is already typing rapidly on his phone. "We'll keep it small. Nothing major. And it'll be safe."

Bruce shakes his head, laughing softly. "Tony has always wanted to be a campaign manager."

Bucky blinks, also seeming just as unsure as Steve. “Okay. I guess.”

——

Bucky glances at himself in the mirror, taking off the tie Tony is trying to force him to wear. “Why can’t I just wear my clothes?”

Tony groans. "You gotta look the part! Here." He offers a different tie. "You can wear it loose. But all politicians wear ties. I think." 

Steve peeks his head in. "You've got a pretty good crowd, Buck. A lot of people excited to see you."

Bucky finds a rainbow tie, wearing it loose, a good contrast to his black suit. “Okay. Get me out there.” He looks unamused with the stuffy outfit Tony has forced him into.

Tony ushers him out onto the small stage, waving at the people in the crowd. Steve was right, there is a pretty big crowd. 

They all cheer and clap loudly when Bucky appears. Steve smiles at that, giving Bucky an encouraging look. 

Tony guides Bucky to the mic. "Alright, folks! If you haven't already gotten a chance, we've got a line for asking questions!" 

There is a line leading up to the stage with people who want to ask Bucky things.

Bucky waves a little awkwardly, “Uh… hi. This is a lot of people. It’s pretty hot out, so uh make sure you’ve all got waters. I think we’ve got some people going around handing some out.”

Bruce has a medical station set up, and Peter is helping make sure cold water is being distributed and there is plenty of shade for everyone. 

The first person steps up to the mic. "Hi! I was wondering what your thoughts were on reproductive rights?" 

Tony winces a bit. That’s a hardball question off the bat.

“Serious stuff right away, huh?” Bucky thinks. “Well, I don’t really think my thoughts really matter. I’m not a woman. I can’t get pregnant. But who am I to say what women should and shouldn’t be allowed to do with their own bodies. That’s their choice.”

The crowd politely listens, then once Bucky is finished talking they start cheering and clapping again in approval. A few people look dissatisfied, but that seems to be a minority. 

Tony gives Bucky a double thumbs up. 

"Hello! Uh, I was wondering, what's one thing you would try to do while in office if you got elected?"

“Well… What do you want me to do? I represent you guys, right?” Bucky chuckles, looking around at the big crowd.

The crowd murmurs, collectively considering this. 

"Advocate for LGBTQ rights?" Someone shouts out, and the crowd looks to Bucky for his reaction.

Bucky nods. “Yeah, I want that. Did you guys really think I’m straight?”

There's laughter and clapping, people smiling up at Bucky. 

A man comes up with his kid, and he lifts the little boy up to the microphone. "Hi!" He waves and smiles adorably. "I was... I was wonder if you could ask comgress for free lunches at school."

“Is that not a thing already? Are you kidding?” Bucky frowns. “I’ll ask for you, buddy.”

The little boy smiles widely. "Thanks you!!" 

The dad smiles as well. "Thank you. Lunch debt has been kicking a lot of people's... butts." He ruffles his kid's hair. 

After a few more questions, Tony initiates a break for Bucky. "Everyone get some water, we've got some free snacks over that way, if you need sunscreen go see the medical tent!" 

Steve hugs Bucky tightly. "You are doing amazing." He smiles proudly. "How are you feeling?"

“Confused. Why does our country suck ass?” Bucky leans against Steve. “Maybe I can help them.”

Steve wraps an arm around him. "Because there's nobody like you running it." He chuckles. He thinks for a moment. "... I think you can." He kisses his head. "But only if you want to. You don't have to do this if it isn't what you want."

“I’ll need to hear more from the people. I don’t wanna be sitting up in an office like a dumbass.” Bucky frowns.

Steve nods. "You're already miles ahead of everyone else." He chuckles. 

When Bucky comes back out, there are more people with a few more questions. Soon enough another hard one gets asks. 

"What is your stance on the mutant rights movement?"

“I’m a mutant. I want rights. I want every mutant to have rights. Regardless of what planet they’re from too.” Bucky points at the mutant flag pin on his suit.

There's thunderous applause and cheering at that. 

Bucky's rally quickly goes viral. Tony couldn't be more thrilled, putting up the news in the kitchen while they eat breakfast the next morning. 

"Will New York see their first mutant congressman? Will he take the debate stage with the other candidates? Stay tuned with us to see what we learn in the coming days."

Bucky looks excited, deciding to be a little more active on social media, wanting the best bet he can have. “What else can I do?” He pours coffee.

Peter slides his mug over to get some coffee as well. "You could host a charity event! It can even be online if you want." 

Tony snaps his fingers. "Yes! That's perfect. You don't need campaign funds because you have a super sexy billionaire buddy," he winks, "But people are asking to donate money. We can direct it to a charity."

“Natalia’s Survivors of Hydra campaign probably needs more funds.” Bucky lets Tony spend the day sorting that out, going out into New York and seeing what he can do. He’s soon caught on camera pulling out some anti-homeless spikes.

A cop starts to approach Bucky, but someone blocks him, then another person. Soon enough, a small crowd is in the area keeping the police off of Bucky so he can keep working. 

Several people are filming, some livestreaming. Steve grabs his jacket to head to where Bucky is, smiling to himself.

Bucky gets all the spikes out, making sure the cop doesn’t hurt any of the people who helped.

Someone offers Bucky a water bottle. "Wish I was strong enough to do that." He chuckles. 

Steve makes sure the cop backs off with his winning Captain America smile, then puts his hands on his hips to check out Bucky's work. "Taking up a new hobby?" He teases.

Bucky chuckles. “A new hobby? I’ve been doing shit like this since the 40s.”

Steve grins. "And you're just as sexy now as you were then." He kisses Bucky's cheek. "C'mon, I wanna show you something." He takes Bucky's hand.

Bucky tilts his head, squeezing Steve’s hand and following him. “What?”

Steve leads him down the sidewalk, taking him past a local school. On the fence surrounding it are signs made by kids with different drawings, some of Bucky. They all read in different handwriting:

Free lunches! Vote Barnes!

Bucky covers his mouth, looking amazed. He takes a picture of it, posting it on his Instagram. He flaps his hands. “What else can I do?”

Steve grins, loving seeing Bucky so happy. "Well, Peter said you could livestream on your Instragram. Give people a chance to talk with you in a more casual way. We could do it after dinner?"

Bucky nods rapidly. 

Bucky later attempts to prop up his phone after starting the stream, looking at Peter. “Did I hit the right button?”

Peter nods, helping him set his phone up. "Yep! You've got a few people watching already." He points to the hearts on the screen and the comments coming in. 

"awesome thing today with the anti homeless shit!"

"ur handsome"

"do u have a bf"

"when's your next rally?"

Steve sits close by, but not in the shot, not wanting to take Bucky's spotlight.

Bucky looks at the comments, “Uh… Thanks! My next rally is next week, it’s on my Neocities. And I do have a boyfriend.” Of course he has a fucking neocities.

Peter gives a thumbs up, joining the livestream on his phone so he can monitor it. 

"excited to vote for you!"

"#mutants4barnes"

"will you debate the other candiates?"

"who is your bf?"

“Uh… I think I can try a debate? I’m not sure what that would look like.” He raises a brow. “My boyfriend? Steve, obviously.”

Steve smiles softly, taking Bucky's hand and squeezing gently. 

"do u have pets"

"who's your favorite avenger?"

"#gays4barnes"

Bucky reaches down to pick up Alpine, holding her like a baby. “Uh… I like Wanda. And Natasha. Everyone is cool, but Wanda could totally kick my ass.”

The chat goes crazy when Alpine is visible, people sending "awwwwws" and cat emojis. Others are excited about Bucky's Avenger choice. 

The rest of the stream goes well, and Peter gives Bucky an excited hug once it's over. "That was awesome! You did great!" 

Steve kisses Bucky. "You're way better at this stuff than me." He chuckles. "I always have a script."

Bucky kisses Steve’s cheek. “I just be honest.”

Peter kisses Alpine's head. "That's why people like you. Politicians usually aren't." 

Natasha comes up to Bucky the next day and gives him a big hug, holding him tightly. "You won't believe how much money we've raised since just yesterday!"

Bucky kisses her cheek. “Really? That’s amazing.” He’s wearing some clothes fans have given him.

Natasha nods. "You are amazing." She takes his hand. "I want you to know that even if you don't get elected, what you're doing is already making a difference." 

Tony raises his brows at Bucky. "New wardrobe? I dig it."

“I love you.” Bucky has on a nice leather jacket with patches all over it, under that being a handmade shirt that says “I love my gay fans”.

Natasha chuckles. "I love you too. And your outfit."

Steve smiles at the shirt. "Look at you!" He looks so proud. "He's gonna be more famous than me. Maybe even you, Tony." 

Tony rolls his eyes. "Not possible. But good effort."

Bucky giggles. “I think I should wear this to the debate today.”

Tony quirks a brow. "... y'know, I think you're right." He smirks. "It'll throw them off for sure." 

Natasha rubs Bucky's back. "You nervous?"

“Well, yeah. I’ve never done this before. But it can’t be that hard? It’s just arguing with a bunch of old guys.” Bucky shrugs.

Peter giggles. "And you do that every day!" He blurts out, then covers his mouth. 

Steve wheezes. "Ouch!" 

Natasha chuckles. "You'll do great."

Bucky shows up relatively on time, still surprised by the amount of support for him.

The other two candidates look unimpressed by Bucky. 

Tony shoots them both a glare. "Alright, just remember. They are gonna lie about shit. Keep your cool, and you'll get them riled up." He dusts Bucky off, looking him over.

Bucky nods, stepping out and waving to all his fans, blowing them kisses. He’s been doing a thing where he holds up signs people give him from the audience, holding up a few before he takes his place. “Thank you!”

The other two candidates don't get nearly as much applause and cheering, and they look miffed about it. 

The moderator smiles and waits for the crowd to die down. "Alright! First question tonight is... if elected, what would be your first move in office?" 

The first candidate, an older man who looks like it's painful for him to smile, has his turn first. "I will make sure that the mutant registration bill is passed." He blinks when half the room boos him. "B-Because the rise in mutant-related crime has been cause for concern not only in New York but across the country. In fact-" 

A buzzer chimes, and it's Bucky's turn.

“Starting a project to provide housing for the mutants displaced by their families who passed in the fight against Thanos.” Bucky answers, basing his reply off what the person before him had said.

The crowd cheers and claps at that,  even those not there for Bucky. The other candidates look annoyed. 

"I'm going to work on solidifying foreign policy." The younger of the two old men says vaguely, gaining him scattered applause. 

"Alright! Next question... what policies do you hope to support in regards to education?" 

Bucky gets to go first.

Bucky thinks for a second. “I support diversifying education to better support mutant and disabled students. And free school lunches for all students, with support from the food waste recovery project.”

The crowd cheers and claps, and Steve, Tony and Natasha all give Bucky thumbs ups and smiles. 

The older candidate scowls. "Okay, are any of us really taking this guy seriously?" He looks across the crowd. "He's a former soviet spy, for Christ's sake. What are his qualifications?" He scoffs. 

The moderator blinks. "Sir, did you want to answer the-" 

"And another thing! You think you know what’s best for all mutants, don't you? That you can speak for them? I have plenty of mutant friends who support my efforts!"

Bucky stretches his arms above his head. “My name’s Bucky Barnes. I’m a veteran of the U.S. military. I’ve fought in two major wars, the one against Hitler and the one against Thanos. What did you do?”

The crowd cheers in support of Bucky, the older guy losing popularity points pretty quickly for attacking a veteran. 

"I... I've helped the local economy! I run a major business, and I went to law school." 

"He flunked out of law school." The other candidate chimes in, smirking a bit. 

The moderator gives each candidate time to say whatever they want at the end. The older man goes first. 

"Folks, don't let the woke mob take over our state. We don't need a gay mutant with no real qualifications trying to be in congress, it's just ridiculous. Vote for me, and I'll keep ridiculousness like that far away from our government."

Bucky adjusts his mic. “Y’all. I’m not gonna tell you how to think, I’m not gonna tell you what to feel. I don’t run a business, I don’t get any money doing this, if anything I have everything to lose running for office. The only reason I’m here is because I want you all to be heard. I want to be the voice of the people in that room where they decide what happens to your lives.”

There is a beat of silence, then a huge round of applause, nearly the whole room joining in. 

The younger of the two candidates comes up to Bucky afterwards. "I don't know how real all of that was." He chuckles. "But it worked, and I gotta respect that. Good luck. Let's beat that guy." He jabs a thumb over to the other candidate, who is giving Bucky a death glare.

Bucky shrugs. “Everything about me is real. No note card, no script, no man behind the scenes. My manager may be rich, but he has no fucking idea what he’s doing. And I kinda think that’s what this place needs.”

The man quirks a brow. "Impressive. We'll see how long it lasts." He pats Bucky's shoulder. 

Steve comes up and hugs Bucky tightly. "You were amazing! They loved you!"

Bucky kisses Steve sweetly. “You really think so?” He yawns. “I need some sleep.”

Steve wraps an arm around Bucky's shoulder, guiding him off the stage. "I really do. And you deserve some sleep." He chuckles. 

When they step outside, there's a crowd cheering and clapping for Bucky. Tony and Natasha work on crowd control, giving Bucky and Steve space to leave.

Bucky waves, blowing people kisses and accepting some items fans are handing him from the crowd.

A little girl hands him a drawing of Alpine, smiling shyly. Her mom chuckles. "She loves seeing the videos of Alpine. We watch them together."

Bucky smiles at the girl, taking the drawing. “You drew this yourself? It looks so good.”

The little girl flaps her hands and giggles. "Thank you!" 

Steve smiles fondly, and he pets Bucky's hair on the car ride home. "I'm so proud of you." He says softly.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀🔀

I haven't read the last few snippets but feel crazy excited. I love seeing people's guesses. I was just assuming that like the other person was the "real Evan" but aged slower because of the Fae realm or something? Lol I have a feeling that has been sort of disproven by some of the flashbacks but I started only skimming because I am so excited lol

That's pretty much it!

45 for 🔀

---

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

Eddie’s face reacts to Buck’s voice coming out of Buck’s body. 

“Who the hell…” He looks back and forth between the two people who are similar but not exactly who he is looking for.

Athena sighs, walks over to Eddie and Christopher, steps around them, and shuts the door.

“Welcome back to L.A.,” she says. “Some things have changed.”

“Wh-where’s… Where’s Buck?” Eddie asks. He looks frightened. Buck wants to vomit. Is this how everyone will look at him from now on?

As it turns out, no.

Christopher points at Buck.

“That’s Buck,” he says. 

“It is,” Bobby confirms. “Why don’t you come sit down, and we can try to explain.”

Eddie’s face wavers. “Is this… Is this makeup? Like movie makeup?”

Wouldn’t that be great? If Buck could wipe it off. 

Buck shakes his head. 

“Then… Then who the hell is that?” Eddie points at the imposter. Though, Buck should probably stop thinking about him that way. He’s not an imposter. He’s Evan Buckley. 

“Uh…” Buck trails off. How does he explain this to Eddie? How does he even begin? 

“Is this your boyfriend?” The imposter - uh, Evan - asks, smirking. “He’s pretty. Another thing you took.” 

Eddie goes bright red. Bobby coughs. Christopher raises his eyebrows. 

“We have a bit of a case of mistaken identity,” Athena says. 

“A bit?” Buck asks bitterly. 

[mokki-tea]

Artfight is coming!

I feel it in my bones! Did you see the team reveals??? I'm so excited! Gifting art is my love language, and boy-oh-boy I have a lot of love to share! Find me under the username Mokki~

[elegyofthemoon]

can someone remind me to write up my thoughts about gallagher and the enigmata later or at least compile them somewhere i want to share it but also my Goodness i am sleepy as heck today and i have work tonight 😔

[slimeciclecock]

Forgive me for the person I'll become when Missa releases all his new music <- delusional

[skitskatdacat63]

Sorry guys for being completely unhinged this weekend 🙏 but I can't help it and I refuse to be normal about it

[ajdrawshq]

Is there any non-spoilery way you could talk about how isat isn't just about timeloops? because like I do want to check the game out eventually for sure if only because indie fun times but I'm busy for a while before I get the time and tbh I'm just not as curious because I don't know how it's gonna break that formula (also ngl no colors makes me lose 50% interest because I like. looking at colors. lots.)

UHM OK WELL UM. hm. how DO i do this without spoiling anything. im very not good at describing things especially things i Really enjoy so how do i put this . hold on i might need to look at some reviews so i know how to words. ok

as a disclaimer i havent fully interacted with a lot of (if any??) media that has timeloops so i cant say for certain what it does differently from similar media that makes it stand out from others. at the same time ive never seen something that is so directly About Timeloops in this way even if i consider stuff ive heard about in passing but i could be wrong (madoka n utena come to mind ?). ill try to think abt the things that arent Just timeloop related plus the stuff u mentioned and hope that helps it feel more interesting and less generic?

i think one of the main things i can say is that it Really makes you feel what the protagonist is feeling. more than anything ive ever watched or played or whatever . and thats saying a LOT given how much i empathize with protags in games. and its not even just an empathy thing here. both the story progression and the gameplay work in such a way that you experience pretty much everything the same way they do, while still having their own personal stuff u can learn about of course

on that note tho. that is actually something to be careful of for a few reasons. i know ur generally pretty good with darker content so i doubt thatll be a problem for u here (its not that bad tbh but there is IS a warning when u open the game/look at the steam page and it aint lying) but. due to the nature of timeloops. it CAN get tiring and this is very much intended. and this helps a lot w the story and themes in a way that its. like. think how kh days does repetition on purpose. its a lot like that (although i had way easier of a time getting thru isat than days? i cant remember how u feel abt days' gameplay but i think it was positive ? either way getting thru isat was way more bearable than days imo). it does do a good job at balancing this with a couple mechanics that mean u dont have to repeat everything all the time (i had like. Very few actual full loops by the time i finished) and theres ALWAYS new things happening, even if ur super thorough with everything. its pretty easy to do things at whatever pace u feel like and if u wanna focus on the main story only to make it easier it wouldnt take too much away from the experience (tho i do encourage talking to the npcs at least a few times), and theres always a goal to work towards. also dialogue skipping and the banana peel are ur best friends

sort of adding onto that. it really, really helps that u are sharing the experience with the protagonist. not only does that help u relate to them (even if u dont share as many traits w them as i do akvdjsn) but theyre probably the most beloved character in the game and for good reason!! its really fun to see their interactions with the rest of the main cast and the npcs, and watch them all develop in different ways throughout the game. and my goodness all of the characters are beautifully written - at first ur kinda thinking ok its a ragtag group of sillies in an rpg whats new. but their personalities and relationships and hobbies and problems and everything about them is just so well done.. they feel so natural. human even. every conversation feels real to me. one of the main themes of the game is the concept of change, and each of them represent and approach it differently, both positively and negatively. its hard not to fall in love with them as individuals and as a group because they just have so much going on, even the ones i didnt expect to like at all!!

the worldbuilding is also a fun spin on fantasy rpg worlds. it mostly revolves around the area u play in bc well. of course it does. but its vv interesting to learn about all the different cultures within the world and how they interact with and build on the themes of the game. theres all sorts of queer stuff going on and its all handled like a love letter to people who relate, and i can feel it even with what i dont relate to at all!! the way "magic" works and the ways people use it in battle and everyday life is super cool too, makes the whole thing feel a lot more believable and realistic :3 i dont wanna talk abt any specifics bc its more fun to learn abt this stuff ingame

OH AND THE TEXT.. EFFECTS?.. idk what to call that but the way dialogue (both internal and external) is written and programmed is funky as hell (affectionate). it was weird at first bc oftentimes (mostly for humor) its like. almost the way i type actually?? which feels strange in a legit game but it Works. it works so well and adds tone and vibes and a Voice in a way u usually cant get in a game without any voice acting. deltarune is also good at that but this one does it differently enough for me to consider it unique

HAVE I MENTIONED THE ART STYLE i love the art style . its so charming and expressive especially all the talking sprites n battle portraits. simultaneously silly n adorable while fully capable of being serious. and creepy. anyway look at the sillies i love them n their designs dearly (especially Siffrin (1st on the left) and Mirabelle (2nd on the left))

also on that note, the lack of colors....... i both totally understand being put off by that (i also love looking at colors n this part made me feel weird abt it when i was thinking abt getting it at first) and personally enjoy it? without saying anything spoilery (bc its really not), its just another part of the worldbuilding and themes that i now find really fun :3 should be noted that i usually have an anti blue light filter so it mightve been easier to look at w the yellowish tint going on. maybe it even looks better that way ? kinda reminded me of old films now that i think abt it.. neat!!

as a last thing i couldnt quite insert somewhere else. it is equal parts a comedy and a tragedy, and it is so, so effective at accomplishing this. the humor is fantastic and adds to the games' and characters' personality, every tragic moment is . for lack of a better word or phrase. absolutely fucking delicious. and i adore how well it can shift from one to the other gradually or in an instant, or just be both at once!!!! yippee!!!!!!!

aaand thats all i can say. i have no idea if that cleared anything up BUT i encourage u to give it a try bc i do think youd like it in the end. u probably wouldnt finish it as fast as i did but that might be a good thing jfbskndj but yeah!!!! in stars and time!!!!!! its good and i love it!!!!!!!!

[lamefish]

when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. he's cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his... skills in the bedroom. if you're not listening to him talk about how he's the strongest, you're listening to him talk about how he's the biggest.

being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and... a small part of you might've wanted to find out if there's any bite to satoru's bark. it's not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:

"will you take my virginity?"

maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.

"okay."

and that's how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.

but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.

still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”

“shut up,” you groan as he nips at the skin of your throat and gently runs his finger through your folds and up to your clit. you’re surprised he knows where your clit is, even.

and he’s not wrong—you’ve never been wet like this before. you can feel just how damp the fabric of your panties are you as satoru pulls them down your thighs and hikes your skirt up to get a clearer look at your soaked cunt.

“pretty,” he licks his lips. “wannna taste her, that okay baby?”

his eyes search yours for consent and you’re stunned for a moment as he waits for ‘enthusiastic consent’. you didn’t expect this sort of check-in from a frat boy. your nod seems enthusiastic enough to him, but just for clarity—“use your words.”

“yes. please, gojo.”

“satoru,” he corrects you. “want to hear that name when you cum on my tongue. cant believe no ones tasted her before.”

the use of referring to your pussy as ‘her’ is odd but quickly overlooked when he delves into your pussy like he’s dehydrated. tongue flat against your heat just to flex and circle around your clit. he sucks and bites a little and pulls you to your first orgasm in nasty speeds.

you cum on his tongue whilst his eyes bore into yours from between your thighs. white hair pulled out of his face by your hand as you tug the strands in hopes that he’ll stop licking at your overstimulated clit. it takes until you’re shaking for him to finally pull back and free his angry cock from his pants.

you think you gasp when you see it. he said he was big but you didn’t think he was a truthful man in the slightest. his cock is so heavy it doesn’t even stand at full mast—it fights gravity. satoru sees the look on your face and instead of sporting a shit-eating grin like you expect, he climbs over you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“let’s stop here?” he asks. “we could watch a movie. oooh what about die hard?”

you giggle, your nerves melting a little at his words. “i’m okay, i want this. i am not graduating as a virgin.”

satoru snorts and, after rolling a condom on, gently pries your legs apart enough for him to slot his wait in between them. he guides your ankles to link behind his back and slowly runs the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. “just relax. i’ve got you, baby.”

you actually manage to relax a little, focus on the feeling of being stretched as satoru slowly pushes into you until his tip is completely hidden in your cunt. it’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. “keep going.”

one of his long fingers dips down to rub soft circles over your clit to relax you a little more as he pushes deeper. you’ve never felt so full, so sore yet desperate for more… you wonder if it’s always going to feel like this, or if it’s just because satoru is the one breaking you open to find pleasure in your insides.

he lets out a pretty moan as he bottoms out inside of you, the weight of his heavy balls resting against your ass as he stills and catches your lips in a wet kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes against your tongue as he slowly draws out of you and then, with a grunt that you taste, snaps his hips forwards into you.

that hurts, but there’s an odd stitch of pleasure in the way he’s broken you open. “sorry,” he speaks against your lips. “it’s better that i just got it out of the way, it can start feeling real good soon. gonna make you cum on my cock, baby. you want that?”

you nod, eyes staring into his as your foreheads meet. satoru nods back, licking his lips and smiling. “yeah? you wanna be stuffed full, huh? always knew you were filthy. but i’m the only one that gets to see it.”

his arrogance pulls at your lips. “until i fuck the next guy.”

snap. his cock splits you open at that, and though you wince and screw your face us, you’re letting out moans made for porn too. his finger on your clit starts working a little faster as he draws back again just to drive into you even harder.

“no,” he dips his head down to bite at your neck. “not until you fuck the next guy. i mean you can try, baby, but it’s not happening.”

“ngh, what do you mean?”

another thrust into you sends you further up the bed. you’re sure you look a mess but satoru looks down at you with such wide blown eyes that you could be convinced you’re from the heavens. “not giving you up that easy,” he groans. “you know, i fucked someone last week just because they had your name. got to moan it without being slapped. again.”

your hand flies up to his chest, almost in an attempt to slow his now mean pace. “wait you—ngh god—you like me?”

“i’m far fucking past like,” he moans, hips starting to stutter. any discomfort has faded into glorious pleasure. your stomach starts to tighten again and you know you’re close enough that he’s going to try and time your orgasms. “you’re so perfect. so much better than i imagined.”

your eyes roll back a little at the thought of satoru fucking his fist late at night to the thought of you. how nonchalant he was when you asked him to take your virginity, you wonder if he went home last night and stroked himself to the sheer anticipation of being inside of you.

“satoru i’m gonna—”

he cuts you off with a deep kiss. it’s sex and want and lust, but it’s also soft in a way you can’t describe—maybe even a little anxious after his confession. it might just be his pending orgasm, but you swear his lips tremble between yours.

his cock throbs as he drills it into you, hits your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. it’s like he already has you mapped out, because you’re both cumming in tandem with each other before long.

a part of you aches to feel his cum spill into you instead of the condom he wears, to be claimed and filled by his seed over and over. would he fuck it back into you? clean you off with his talented tongue? would he plug you with his cock until he’s ready to overfill you with a second load?

he moans into your mouth and pulls back a little to revel in your fucked out expression. your legs still wrap around his waist, boxing him in and keeping him close. you worry that in typical frat boy fashion he’ll make an excuse and run off to recount the fuck with his friends. but satoru pecks at your lips, then your chin, then down your neck again.

“what are you doing?” you ask, vision slightly blurred from the intensity of your orgasm.

“gonna make you cum again,” he smiles against your skin. “didn’t you hear?”

“hear what?”

he pulls back to look at you, a soft smile pulling at his pretty lips. “that if you cum at least five times when you lose your virginity, you’ll fall in loooove.”

[lxnarphase]

━ ❝ OH, IT'S MINIKUNA ! ❞

✮₊‧⁺...content: heian era!sukuna x wife!reader, fluff, mentions of childbirth, sukuna is an overly proud father, sukuna is whipped for his wife

✮₊‧⁺...lunar's note: based of this little blurbie and this one too !! needed some fluff with kuna bc he would love having a baby girl idc what anyone says !!! also i did my best describing the birthing process in a time accurate period but it's definitely a bit inaccurate because...i have never had a baby LOL

no one has ever seen sukuna ryomen, king of curses, wince before.

not until today, at the wrath of his pregnant wife who somehow got a hold of his fingers instead of his hand.

one of the nurses did warn him to not give you his finger and to ensure you always hold his hand. but by the gods, he swears you almost ripped his finger off.

it's cute to him, however, when you attempt to curse him out.

'gods, sukuna, i despise your entire being!'

'i know, my wife.'

'i should've never let you get me pregnant, you animal!'

'you begged for it, my wife.'

'i am never letting you bed me again, use your hand for the rest of your existence!'

'you can't keep your hands off me, my wife, no need to lie.'

but the sigh of relief, the way you instantly look down and coo once the sound of wailing filled the air...it makes him melt just a little bit.

he can't deny, seeing you in pain made him heated. it took everything in him not to kill every midwife, nurse, and lady-in-waiting in your birth room for not being able to make this process completely painless.

except chiyo. he would have to reward your personal physician for preparing you so well for this...

what did the old hag like again? wines, meats, gifts for her grandchildren back at home?

hm, yes, that would be great for her. of course, he'll say it was from you. the king of curses shows gratitude for no one.

he's pulled out of his thoughts at the hushed whispers once the other women exam the baby before following your unspoken request to hold your child.

"d-do you think lord sukuna will harm our lady for this...?"

"i hope not, surely he can make an exception, t-they both are still young and can always try for more!"

"but he's the king of curses, t-there no way he won't have a reaction!"

before he can demand what they find so important to discuss in front of you, chiyo hushes the girls with a wave of her hand, ushering the girls to help wipe off your sweat, tears, and clean off the baby—gentle like it's the finest glass, she instructs—before turning to sukuna with a knowing smile.

"well, your greatness...congratulations on having a healthy and gorgeous little girl," she hums, wiping her hands with a clean cloth before going to rinse her hands to help stitch any rips and clean you up.

the room falls silent aside from your soft little coos and the wails of your daughter as you brush the wet, fluffy hair on her little head.

all the women in the room continue to work, but it's clear they are silently waiting for his outburst.

everyone knows that a proper heir to any throne is a boy...but now, sukuna's first born child is a girl.

but rather angry, yelling, and threats to your and your child's life, the room is filled with Suku's booming laughter, which practically shakes the entire room.

instead of an enraged expression, pure delight, and excitement are painted on his face as he sits next to you on the soft cushiony bedding on the floor, his hand caressing the rounded cheek of your newborn.

"so, you've given me a girl," he hums in delight, all four of his eyes narrowing. "this will be the one who takes over my throne once i decide to step down?"

this thing, this tiny, itty bitty baby...came from you both? it's almost laughable how small this baby is compared to his hand, that something so little could be related to him.

she's...nothing short of perfect. "absolutely divine...she will not just be beautiful like her mother, but as powerful as both of us."

he's so proud of you and your child. he would shower your daughter with riches, love, and anything she could ever want and ask for.

but, he couldn't lie.

she's a damned fat baby, big head and all.

"sukuna, watch your mouth!"

he can't help but laugh, not realizing his thoughts came out of his mouth. "what, it's a good thing! means she's healthy," he boasts with a grin, leaning down closer to see her better.

"she looks strong already. as soon as she is able, i will personally teach her how to be a truly malevolent little princess, how to properly slit the necks of her enemies, how to—!”

oh, he is so excited, it's adorable.

“sukuna, shush, i just gave birth to a child with a massive head like yours, give me a moment," you say with a light laugh, your smile still reaching your clearly tired eyes.

“…apologies, my wife.”

chiyo can't help but laugh with you she finishes applying the healing ointment on your lower body, using a bit of her cursed energy to speed up the healing process to help you skip any serious pain.

after all, nothing but the best physician for you in sukuna's palace.

"always such an excitable boy, my lord, ever since you were a young man," she hums, helping one of the midwives properly wrap your baby in the soft, clean cloth.

"be gentle with her," you instruct him, gently moving your arms toward him so he could take the little bundle. he's...nervous, but he hides it well.

you place your daughter in his arms and he looks down at her, suddenly conscious of how loud he's breathing. she's got his hair, still a bit wet but soft and fluffy. it's pink, just like his.

a pleased rumble vibrates his chest, and he doesn't even realize he's doing it.

but then...her eyes open.

both sets.

he almost didn't notice it at first, they're just so small, but they're there. the same color as yours, pretty and big, filled with so much life.

his eyes burn, vision getting blurry. no words come to his head, he can't think of anything to say. he's so caught up in his thought he doesn't even notice chiyo ushering the other girls in the room out and shutting the door before quietly tending to you with water or food.

she knows that look, you do as well. she's been around longer than uraume to know her master, knowing the king of curses since his young years as the unwanted child of the village, abandoned by his mother for his 'horrid' appearance.

she was lucky to have found him before the villagers got to him, torches, axes, pitchforks and daggers in hand to take care of the child who they believed to have brought misfortune to their home.

getting him to safety was one of the best decisions she'd ever made, king of curses or not. no child deserved to be abandoned like that. and now, he's seeing himself in that tiny little being in his arms right now...chiyo can only imagine what he's feeling.

so, out of respect, she keeps her gaze averted, pretending she does not see the misty gaze he gives your daughter. this is a moment for you and him, and she does her best to make all her movements as quiet as possible.

all sukuna can think about in this moment is how he used to be just as tiny as this. he was just as vulnerable in his mothers arms. he couldn't talk, couldn't speak, couldn't fend for himself.

yet, his parents looked down at him just like this and decided he was an abomination and didn't give him a chance.

but now?

sukuna knows he would never, ever let anything happen to this little bundle in his arms. he would rather destroy the entire planet before letting anything happen to his baby girl. no one would make his little one suffer and live to see another day.

he flinches just a little, feeling your soft hand rubbing his bicep. "it's okay, my love," you softly coo at him, reaching up to wipe a tear from his eye before it had a chance to drip down his cheek. "she's going to grow up feeling loved and cherished because she's got a great father."

"hmm..."

a smile crosses his features as he looks back down, looking at the squirming baby so makes a little noise before calming down when he strokes her little, chubby cheek again to keep her from crying again.

"and she's got a great mother. she'll be the most wonderful princess in all of history," he says with a toothy grin, chest rumbling with a laugh.

"aww, my love, that's so sweet..."

"seriously, though, how in hells did you squeeze this thing out of ya? thing's got the head of a watermelon."

"sukuna, give me back my baby, and chiyo? get this man some food to stuff in his mouth before he says something to warrent the rage of a new mother."

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[kavehayati]

I MEAN THIS IN THE MOST NOT COCKY WAY POSSIBLE BUT I GENUINELY THINK THAT EVERYONE NEEDS TO BE LOVED THE WAY I LOVE PEOPLE

[pucksandpower]

Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

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

Based on this request

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

Happy birthday indeed.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

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

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

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

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

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

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

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

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N,

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

Love,

Charles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

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

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

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

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[jinwoosbabyboo]

𝙲𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚙 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛

LADS Men and a cramp simulator. This is how I imagine they would handle it.

A/N: I’ve gotten many requests for a cramp simulator so this is for those who wanna torture their man hehe

𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎

[Before]

Of course he is berating you with questions. Where did you get this? why do you want him to do this? Will this have long lasting effects?

Believes you when you say your cramps are bad so he’s having a hard time understanding why you want to cause him immense pain

Agrees anyway because he will always do whatever you want him to do

[During]

This would be one of the rare moments you see Zayne break his calm cool and collected composure

“Are you sure you’re not having a heart attack every month?” He’s leaning on any surface he can find long after you’ve taken the simulator off of him

I imagine he has a high pain tolerance, but this was too much “You can turn it off now” you turn it up. “My love please turn it off” red in the face sweating and hands are shaking

[After]

You gave him your heating pad to help with the lingering pain “I was unaware of what you were dealing with every month”

Prepare to be pampered every time you get your period now; he's stocking up all your feminine products, tea, heating pads, painkillers, and your favorite foods and snacks

Monitors your heart closely during the week because he's worried you might have a heart attack

Brings up the option of medical grade painkillers, but immediately changes his mind because he doesn’t want you getting addicted

“Next time you start you period just take the week off” insists you stay home and let him take care of you, bringing you tea and rubbing your stomach

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕

[Before]

Overconfident to start — he can sense when you’re not feeling well, but can’t sense your cramp pain he just knows you’re not okay

Believes you when you say your cramps are bad, but "there’s no way they’re that bad" he has a high pain tolerance so “this will be a piece of cake turn it up”

[During]

Trying to hide the grimace on his face when he feels the first ‘cramp’ “Keep going?” “Yea this is nothing” he’s already sweating

Screaming, whining, crying and damn near throwing up “I’m dying there’s no way im not dying I see the light” “You’re not dying” “YES I AM”

“This is what you go through? No wonder you’re so mean” “I was being nice this is what I actually feel” you turn it up and he throws himself on the floor “I’M SORRY I’M SORRY TURN IT OFF PLEASE” gasping for air as he rolls around

[After]

Leaves you little snacks and gifts outside the door whenever you get your period now

Has never asked “Is it really that bad?” again because he knows the answer now; gets pains just thinking about it

Had to go lay down and take a nap after you took the simulator off of him.

Stocks up on heating pads and rubs your stomach and back religiously now

𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛

[Before]

Isn’t nervous, but also isn't excited “I’m ready”

Is only doing this because you promised him hotpot afterwards

“You’re no stranger to pain” “Im not a masochist” “Debatable”

[During]

The pain was so bad that it pissed him off “This is complete bullshit” “I’m not interested in continuing this turn it off please”

When you turn it up so show him what you actually experience he’s kneeling at your feet begging you to turn it off “My Star please I understand please end this”

Accidentally grips whatever is near him so hard he breaks it

sweating, red in the face with tears in his eyes

[After]

Nurse Xavier now

Whenever you get your period he’s making you lay down and take it easy all week.

Is helping you in and out of bed

Leaves either a tampon or fresh underwear with a pad already lined in it on the counter for you when you get out of the shower

Loves these weeks now because he can nap with you as much as he wants

Carries you everywhere “Xav I promise I can walk” “With cramps as horrendous as those? You really are superwoman”

𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜

[Before]

Nonchalant as always has almost a bored expression

“I still feel pain Princess, but I'll indulge you”

You tell him to sit down, but he opts to stand

"You shot and stabbed me before I can handle this" "I scratched you" "You stabbed me clear through the chest" "What?" "What."

[During]

Panting and red in the face does his best to try and handle the pain

Breathing heavily and doubled over leaning against the nearest surface he can find

“Okay okay thats enough” brought him to knees once again “I thought you could handle pain?” “That does not mean I enjoy it”

Has to sit down for a while completely still like a statue after that

[After]

Already pampered you during your periods, but he’s upped it now

Literally tracks your cycle and makes sure he’s always nearby incase it comes early

Wants you to stay with him the entire time “I need to go to work Sylus” “No you don’t you need to rest”

Makes a nesting bed for you and is at your beckoned call