#he finally has a family that loves and accepts him?? okay and when i start SOBBING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 5 months ago

Text

La Regina

Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics

Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes you feel ill.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just Michael. Your one and only papa.

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

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

Let me have my papa back.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But?” You prod gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just promise me one thing?” You ask.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To race.

To win.

To become a legend.

***

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

“Over here, Y/N!”

“Un selfie, per favore!”

“Can you sign this for my daughter?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles hums in agreement around another forkful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mission accomplished.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

“You!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But most of all, it’s home.

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

La principessa di Monza.

La principessa di Ferrari.

***

11 Months Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You did it.

World Champion at last!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To our champion! The Queen!”

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

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

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

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

“La Re-gi-na! La Re-gi-na!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

La Regina di Ferrari.

La Regina del Mondo.

***

Eight Years Later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like movie stars?” His eyes go wide.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me! Y/N! Can we get a photo?”

“Charles! Over here, please!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You and Charles both crack up at the adorable comparison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ewww, gross! Stop kissing!”

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

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

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

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

You and Charles share an amused look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god, it’s them!”

“They’re so cute together!!”

“Over here, please! This way!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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itsss4t4n · 9 months ago

Note

hi!! could i get headcanons of harry hook x daughter of alice from alice in wonderland? :)

a/n: Okay so i made two versions of this. I started writing more of like an actual story wich is pretty long and then realized that you probably asked for more short relationship headcannons. So this one is the shorter headcannons. I hope you enjoy :))

Trigger warnings: very short mention of bad family dynamics, not proofread, she/her pronouns if used

So here is the longer story version

Harry hook x Daughter of alice in wonderland - headcanons

-Harry would constantly ask you about wonderland and try to compare it to neverland. Its not really similar but he trys anyways.

-knowing about and visiting wonderland quite often made you kind of an 'odd' person but harry loves it. Honestly that man oves anything that is different and weird. He would fit right in with his dramatic and theatrical nature.

-You would mock his accent constantly but you both know that you love it. Especially mixed with his raspy morning voice. Heaven on earth.

-Uma and gil also probably love you. How could they not when harry adores you like does.

-speaking of: he adores you so much. Words of affirmation and physical touch are his love languages. He is always complimenting you and huging you, holding your hands or just standing/ sitting as close to you as he can.

-He knows how you love it when he tilts up ypur chin with the tip of his hook, and he fully uses it to his advantage.

-steaing his hook to annoy him or as 'blackmail'

-he would be so nervous to meet your family but they pretty much love him immediately.

-he finally has a family that cares about him and that he can feel safe in (other than his friends obv.) because lord knows his own family was awful. Except maybe harriet. Speaking of she is the only part of his family you actually got to meet. She loves you but would still give you the older sibling talk 'if you hurt him i will kill you', etc. etc.. But Harriet is incedibly happy that harry has found someone that loves him as much as you do.

-Honestly you would just be such a cute couple.

-but also one that can cause trouble. A lot. You are not against some rulebreaking if its fun. you never were. And with harry its always fun.

-Now... on a sidenote: THAT MAN IS AN AWESOME KISSER! LIKE FR.

-anyways.. you guys are perfect together. Accepting each other with all your flaws.

-true love <3

#reader insert #writing #fanfic #fluff #harry hook x reader #harry hook #descendants x reader #disneys descendants #descendants #fem reader #harry hook x fem reader

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timmydraker · 23 days ago

Text

Tim isn’t the only queer person in the family, in fact he’s probably one of the last members to actually accept or even realise he wasn’t in the heteronormative category.

But he’s the most open about it.

After Janet died and Jack woke up, the man actually tried to do right by Tim and outwardly told him he was going to try be more understanding of his bisexual son. The two never became the father son duo Tim wanted, but he started to see Jack better, kind of like an uncle in a way.

It was enough for him to feel better making comments on male actors at movie nights, to joke about him being in the gay group of people who didn’t know a single thing about fashion and calling himself a stereotype breaker because of it.

Dick never wanted a label and Bruce was still in denial about his various male crushes, which was probably why Tim was in the situation he was in now.

Tim didn’t turn around to face Damian, if only because the younger had very purposefully sat directly behind him where he was sitting on the library floor.

He played over Damian’s question in his mind, “Why is it important to people that you Mary the opposite gender?” Because holy shit was that a big question.

Eventually Tim answered once Damian tensed in a tell tale way that he was about to run away, “Ignorance, mainly, but it’s all about what people are taught. It’s like how people believe in gods and supernatural things, it’s them hearing what others have said or not being able to understand something purely cause it doesn’t apply to them.”

A moment passes and the other doesn’t respond, so Tim adds a bit more.

“People struggle with change, especially when they are right something to be wrong or evil. Often they just get scared or feel threatened and just… don’t even try to learn. It’s okay to not know something, it’s when people refuse to learn that it’s bad.”

Tim thinks he feels Damian nod behind him but it’s hard to tell until the other lets out a tiny hum of affirmation.

When he doesn’t respond, Tim goes back to his tablet a little awkwardly and tries to figure out why his brother had asked such a question.

After around five minutes Damian finally speaks, his voice strangely timid, “If someone has… wrong opinions or has been taught something false, are they able to come back from it?”

That… wasn’t what Tim expected.

Did Damian know someone close to him that was being homophobic or had the League held hetero standards?

Knowing to tread carefully, Tim didn’t ask for confirmation on any of this lest he scare of his rather temperamental brother.

“Of course. Just look at my father, he was raised to hate people like me but his care for me made him try. He’s not the best at it, but he’s trying and that’s more than I ever expected. You can’t fix hate with love, you need understanding and sometimes you just need to offer the chance to try do so.”

Another lapse of silence, though this time shorter before Damian stood up. “Thank you, Drake.”

As the youngest Wayne left, Tim was left feeling both shock and pride at Damian saying a real, not forced ‘thank you’ after asking for help with something on his own.

Tim knew that Damian came to him because he was so loud about his acceptance of his own sexuality and his push for queer rights, but even months later he had no idea what pushed Damian to ask at all.

Either way he was happy to help his little brother.

#batfam #tim drake #bat family #dc comics #batfamily #dc universe #dc #tim drake is red robin #tim drake is a menace #damian wayne #tim and damian #Tim and Damian getting along #Wayne brothers #bi tim Drake

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slytherinshua · 2 months ago

Text

ALL MY LOVE

genre. fluff. boyfriend headcanons. warnings. minghao dreams abt marriage and starting a family. not proofread and written while i'm sick and have half a braincell so i'm rly sorry if this is a mess. pairing. minghao x fem!reader. wc. 558. request. no. a/n. babe wake up slytherinshua is back skdjskd GOD IM SO HAPPY I WAS ABLE TO WRITE SOMETHING FINALLY 😭😭 thought this blog was literally gonna die cause writers block was so strong. also surprised it ended up being svt that broke through my block esp minghao but yk ill take it no complaints !!!!

boyfriend!minghao who’s a gentle, slow lover. he never rushes, but he also never leaves you with any doubt. he can read you like a book, and any concerns on your mind seem to be instantly resolved before you even have time to bring them up. he’s steady and true; your rock that you always know you can fall back on when things get tough. no matter what, he’ll always be there. he gives you a soft passionate type of love that you would never get tired of even after decades.

boyfriend!minghao who’s always been ambitious. he has dozens of things he’d like to do and achieve, but he also knows how to take life slow and enjoy the present. he knows he has time to do everything he wants, and he reminds you that you also have plenty of time as well. sometimes you need that extra voice to tell you that it’s okay to take a break sometimes. it’s okay to breathe and think. no matter what, minghao will always be your biggest supporter— always rooting for you to strive and reach your goals, even if they are small.

boyfriend!minghao who helps you relax after a long day. warm tea and a massage are enough to put your mind and body at ease. his hands work like magic over your neck, shoulders, and back. it’s so good, in fact, that you feel guilty for not paying him for his service. he would never accept anything like that from you, though. once he’s done working out the knots for 20 minutes, he’d fall on top of you, giggling into the crook of your neck as he acts like your personal weighted blanket.

boyfriend!minghao who has a whole collection of couple items with you over the years. whether it be clothes, jewelry, or even mugs, everything he buys seems to come in a set of two. he can’t even imagine buying something for just himself anymore when you always seem to cross his mind whenever he spots something cute.

boyfriend!minghao who scolds you (but truly only out of love). his attention to detail and observant nature is both his strength and his flaw. he’s quick with his tongue— too quick— and will catch himself lecturing or correcting you when it wasn’t strictly needed. although it’s rare for his scolding to get on your nerves, as you know its a way he shows that he cares about you and loves you, it sometimes does. but he’s quick with his apologies as well, so no bickering between you two can ever last long.

boyfriend!minghao who is so happy and secure in your relationship. he knows he’s found the one with you, and now that he’s been able to call you his for years, there’s no way he would ever be able to imagine his life without you. the overwhelming fondness he holds for you plants itself in his head and his heart and always has him thinking about your future together. he’d tell you randomly over tea how much he’s been thinking and dreaming about spending the rest of his life with you. whether it be big milestones like your wedding and starting a family, or smaller ones like waking up in each others arms each morning, he’s excited to experience it all with you.

↳ svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @minholing,,

@shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,,

@wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,,

@parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,,

@heavenfilm,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,,

@talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,,

@gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny

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daenysx · 5 months ago

Note

Hey darling, I have a requests for Aemond if you still writing for him. I just want when he has so much pain because of anything(maybe he's tired of family pressure) and he just need his darling's arms.

thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy! you can send requests for aemond or aegon now that the show is back <333

prince aemond targaryen x fem!reader

you can see vhagar's wings if you squint your eyes enough.

aemond is restless these days, he is angry and resentful. his anger has never been directed to you but the peace in your shared chambers decreases day by day. you frown, not knowing what to do to make it all better. vhagar flies closer to the keep and you watch her. you can almost imagine how aemond looks on top of her; sad, disappointed in himself, angry, vengeful. your husband is far from being okay.

you settle down on the bed, the thin fabric of your nightgown does nothing to protect you from the night air's chill. you prefer keeping windows open though. each breath of fresh air is needed in here.

almost half an hour later, aemond returns to you. he smells like dragon and something unique to him, you've grown fond of his scent long time ago since you got married to him. he closes the door, takes a few slow steps into the chamber. you leave the bed to greet him.

"husband." you say lowly. he looks calm. flying on vhagar works like a charm most of the time, he gets to relieve some of his tension to the clouds. he looks at you with a tired eye, a graceful hand of his extended to you.

you accept his touch almost greedily. it's always easier with him, to deal with everything. you've never imagined you'd be a part of a war one day but life is tricky. there are too many reasons to be afraid of each minute that goes by, but aemond makes them all bearable. he's protective, even more so now. you like how he stands tall and charming, like a statue to protect you from all the darkness. he wraps his hands around your waist to pull you closer, close enough to put his head on your shoulder.

your hand goes to his hair. the lovely silver strands messed up by wind. you fix them, fingertips touching his scalp. he breathes heavily, his hands on your waist are insistent. he begs silently. he begs for the pain to go away. only for one night.

aemond pulls himself back with a sigh. he takes off his eyepatch, starts opening the buttons of his riding clothes. his fingers are cruel on his own skin, he doesn't care if he hurts himself. you hold his hands when he roughly pulls the fabric. his hands slow down in your palms, staying still like he's done something wrong. you bring each hand on your lips. they are shaking with hate. you look at your husband to see his eye get all glossy under the light of fire. his arms stay on his sides.

"let me help." you say gently. he sits on bed as you take care of him. he will not bathe tonight, you know, he only wants to be free of the fabrics he carries on him. the eyepatch, the clothes. all of them pulls him down.

when he's finally bare, he gets into the bed. you adjust your pillows to see his face better. the little distance between you is too much for aemond to bear. he puts his head on your shoulder.

"they all say the same thing." he says. you wouldn't hear his silent words but his mouth is close to your ear. you hold his naked body as he keeps going. "same thing. every day. as if i'm a fool who forgot what he's done."

he made many mistakes. mistakes are the nature of a war; thinking back with regret and pain, wishing to take the time back, holding grudge to gods and faith for not stopping the unfair crimes. aemond is too self aware these days thanks to the people he has to call family. they are masters to answer each sentence of him with his war crime. he thinks it's fair sometimes, he has to be punished in a way. he pushes his head closer to your neck to settle down, it's too much for a man to deal with.

"i'm sorry." you say. there's nothing more to say, he knows you try your hardest to forgive him for his crimes each day. you're mostly successful, your love for aemond is blinding. he kisses your neck slowly, curved lips leave a mark on your skin.

"i never wanted this." he says, regret drips from his voice. "i never wanted a power i cannot control."

"it's a dragon, my love." you reason. "no matter what your intentions are, you cannot make her agree with you every time."

"i only wanted-" he takes a breath. "i don't even know what i wanted. i thought the bond between us was stronger, with vhagar."

he doubts himself. it's dangerous to doubt the bond between a dragon and her rider in the middle of a war. aemond is a reasonable man when he's not mad but even he's having hard time facing with the consequences of his actions. he used to brag fiercely, the rider of the largest dragon in the world. now, he questions his worth more often, like he's a boy hiding behind his mother's skirt.

you kiss his forehead, his head must be hurting under all this worry. what feels worse now, accidentally killing the nephew who took his eye years ago, or doubting everything that made him aemond targaryen? he knows there are things he should understand, he's just not brave enough to face them.

because now, he's in your arms. the only place besides the sky that gives him comfort. being in the same bed with you is better than flying sometimes, he's free here. you offer every bit of relieve you can to him, he takes what you're willing to give. every kiss, every touch, every valyrian word you learn to prove him you love him, every minute you spend with his wounds and his troubles. he can't lose you. he has nothing in this world if he loses you.

you kiss him again, for your sake more than aemond's. when you're together you don't have to worry about him. you know he's safe and secure, you know if anything happens he'll be your guard. kisses are a way of communication now, a way of comfort. he closes his eye when your lips connect with his skin. he could spent his life here if he wasn't be a man who's hungry for power and vengeance.

he thinks the fire is easy. it's so easy to burn everything when he has vhagar. he doesn't look back, he doesn't deal with the places he burned. he has the blood of a dragon, he becomes one with vhagar when he whispers words to her. he knows he'd burned down the city if he loses you. he wouldn't look back. there are too many people disappointed in him already. if he loses the only one who holds him together, he'd have nothing.

aemond kisses you softly. he stops breathing when his lips are pressed against yours. he feels like a tamed dragon if there's such a thing. you stroke his cheek, push his hair back from his face. he is hungry for touch and you give him what he craves until he falls asleep against your neck. he holds onto the one person who keeps him sane until the sun shows itself.

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cherriesformatt · 6 months ago

Text

boston || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: matt takes reader home to meet his parents and he takes her ice skating for the first time where he used to play hockey

warnings: pure fluff

word count: 1,6k

a/n: Hi!! I combined two requests I hope you're okay with that! I tried my best! Ily <3 I will read proof after work!

based on:

"Hey...do you want some?" Matt asked me when he opened some kind of cookies.

We were on the plane with his brothers right behind us. It was my first time flying to Boston with them and I am going to meet his family. I was shitting my pants and felt like throwing up because we were hour from landing.

"No, thanks" I smiled at him and went back to my book.

We were flying first class and it was nice and quiet here. I am glad because I was able to read and it kept my mind from stressing out.

"You don't have to be scared, they going to love you I told you that already" Matt said and put his hand on my thigh and stroked it.

"You can't possibly know that" I closed my book and looked at him with my worried eyes.

Matt smiled at me and tucked some of my hair behind my ear. He kissed my nose which made me giggle.

"Yes, I do. Justin is chill and our parents even more. Please Marylou probably already has our picture on the wall and Jimmy will want to take you fishing and hope you will say yes because we always say no" He laughed.

I laughed too.

"Please say no because if you say yes we all will need to go" Nick's head popped out of nowhere in the middle of our seats.

It calmed me down just a little bit. But as we landed it all came back. My palms were sweaty and I was fixing my hair and hoodie every three seconds as we waited for our bags in the baggage claim. Chris made me and Matt to take a picture with "Welcome to Boston" sign. And I probably looked like I saw a ghost.

"Justin just landed too and Mom is going to be here in 20 minutes" Nick said looking at his phone.

We collected our luggage and waited on the chairs for their brother.

"It was not hard to find you...Nick you look ridiculous it is so warm outside snd you wearing fucking Uggs" I heard and my eyes followed the voice.

Justin walked up to us. He was a little shorter than his little brothers and had very similar style to Chris. I wouldn't say he looked similar to them but they only shared a mom and also I knew how Justin looked like from the pictures and videos.

They said hi to their brother and he brought so much energy and made everyone laugh. I could see how boys missed their brother a lot.

"And you must be y/n, it is nice to finally meet you. This one does not shut up about you" He embrace me with a warm hug and I smiled hugging him back.

"That would be me. Its nice to meet you too Justin" I said.

"Smart choice, this one can drive and doesn't talk too much" He joked and I laughed.

"Okay let's go...mom is here" Nick said and we went outside to look for their van.

When we found the car I tried to keep my cool. But it was just so normal to be stressed about it. I never did that before. Meet my partners parents. I never felt about anyone as I felt about Matt. He was so important to me that I just needed for his family to accept me because I knew how much his family was important to him.

We all were friends for almost two years now. Me and Matt started dating like 7 months ago but it was going on for longer than that. We were both just too scared to confess our feelings but one day our friends just couldn't stand us and they set us up with a date. And we talked and talked about feelings for hours and there we are now. I am meeting his parents.

"Hi kids! I missed you so much!" Their mom gave them a hug and a kiss and I stand next to them smiling at how adorable it was.

"Hi honey, you're even more pretty in real life... welcome! I hope the flight wasn't bad for you. Matt told me you do not like flying that much" She gave me a warm smile and hugged me too.

"Thank you Ms. Sturniolo... No, it was all great I am so happy to be here" I said and her aura just made me not stress at all anymore.

"Oh please, call me Marylou, get in, choose the best seat before they all start to fight" She laughed.

Boys put all our stuff in the trunk and got in the back so I did seat in the front with their mom. She was asking me about myself and everything else. The conversation was very easy with her. All the way home we were just talking and catching up.

When we got to their house all the brothers just walked in and straight away were met with their dog. Trev was so happy to see them. He was wiggling his tail.

"Oh.. brothers are back Trevor...look at that happy boy" Their mom smiled.

"And Matty brought you new best friend" She aded happily and I smiled and kneeled to give Trevor my hand to sniff.

"Hi buddy I heard so much about you...you're so cute...oh yes you are" I smiled when he let me pet him.

"Probably more than about me, huh?" Their dad walked out from the living room and smiled.

"Hi everyone!" He said and each of his boys hugged their dad hello.

"Good Morning.." I smiled standing up from the floor.

"Hi y/n, I'm Jimmy" He smiled at me and I shook his hand gently and he stroked my arm warmly.

"It is so nice to see you... We were waiting to meet you I am so glad you could visit with boys. " He said and I smiled even more.

"Me too..." I truly said.

"Okay... we are going to put the stuff away and rest a little bit" Matt said.

"Yes.. You guys go, sweetheart if you would ever need anything let me know... I put extra stuff in their bathroom for you and please feel like it is your house" Marylou said and I smiled.

"Thank you..." I said.

We went to Matt's room and I smiled.

"Your parents and brother are just as you said... I am sorry I was stressing out so much. And your house is just so warm and feels like family and love" I said looking at him.

"I told you... Yes, I love coming back home...nowhere feels like here and now that you are here. I have all I need" He kissed me gently and I wrapped my arms around him.

"I love you.."He said when he moved away and I smiled.

"I love you too" I said back and he smiled and kissed my nose.

He always did that and I loved it. He was so cute for that.

"Okay... I will show you whole house later, you go to the bathroom first and than we can have a nap if you want or whatever. Mom said we can eat dinner together" He said and I nodded.

I loved being in Boston. First few days we all spend together. They were showing me around but also we had family movie nights and game nights. I felt very welcomed and part of the family. Their family was everything I ever wanted for my future family.

"Where are we going?" I asked one evening when Matt told me to dress warmer and take a hat.

"Oh.. remember how you told us you never ice skated before?" Chris smiled at me.

"No way...."I said.

"Oh yes way! We kinda booked our old ice ring for the evening" Nick said and I looked at them.

"Thats so cool! I cant wait to see you guys on ice" I said.

"Thats what they said about you" Nate laughed from the back.

He was also going with us.

Once we were there boys collected all the stuff they needed from the trunk and we went in.

"Here I bought this for you. I will help you put them on" Matt said handing me a box with a smile.

"You bought me ice skates? Matt..."I said and pouted my lips.

He kissed my lips and smiled.

"I always wanted to take you and I do not who actually wanted to see you on ice more me or my brothers" He laughed.

We sat on the bench and he helped be put on the skates after he put his own.

"Ready?" He asked and I looked at rest of the group already skating on ice. They were fast. Matt reached for me with his arms.

"Okay.. but do not let them run me over” I said standing up and not letting go of Matt's arms.

"I would never" He laughed and we slowly entered the ice.

"Yes!! Go y/n!" Nick clapped his hands for me and I smiled but concentrated on keeping myself up. He was filming me.

"Slowly...move your legs like you would roller-skate, you did that before so it should be easier" Matt said.

I did as he asked me and I was able to move myself. He let go of one of my arms.

"I think I got it!" I said happily but it caused me to lose my balance and I somehow fell on my bum.

"Ah..baby are you okay?" Matt helped me up and all of them gathered around me.

"Yes... guys I like fell skating 1 mile per hour and you gathered here like I was gonna die here” I laughed.

We spent all evening on ice and I got okay to the point where Matt wasn't scared that I am going to kill myself. They were also filming for a video. I helped them with the camera and was cheering from the bleachers.

I had so much fun. Here and in general. I already knew Boston had a special place in my heart. Seeing boys how they were here with their family and friends. I knew I would always want to be back here with Matt.

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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myimaginarywonderland · 6 months ago

Text

I truly want Eddie and Buck to fight.

Mainly because I have wanted Buck to blow up at someone from the 118 for years. I get that apparently there were off-screen apologies but the way every single member treated Buck when he got a lawyer, the way everyone has dismissed Buck's trauma before that, the way Buck was literally punshed by Chim, the way Buck's has (nearly) died multiple times and the trauma of that is never really acknowledged, the way Buck was sexually assaulted and everyone joked about it, the way Buck has had so much shit just put on him unknowingly sometimes by them, yes, I want Buck to snap.

I want Buck to finally stand up to someone and tell them that it's not okay, that what he went through wasn't okay and that he needed his family with him when they weren't.

I need Buck to finally see "I deserved better" and have someone show him he deserves better (aka Tommy.)

I need someone to finally be in Buck's corner, to tell him that what he went through wasn't okay and that he doesn't need to get over it because you just don't get over some traumas.

I need Buck to finally have a moment where he is allowed to be angry, where he is allowed to feel his emotions, where he is allowed to hurt and someone is immediately there to catch him, to be beside him.

I need Buck to finally be allowed to be proud of his work, to finally understand how much he has done as a firefighter when he didn't even have to, to understand that he can be more, that he is allowed to want more.

I need Buck to finally be allowed to go on a pathway up the FD ladder because he deserves it, he has earned himself the opportunity to get a chance to prove himself.

I need this season to finally lay the groundwork to Buck's full potential as a character, as a love interest, as firefighter. I need this to be the start of his true growth where he is finally allowed to want things and to get the things, the happy ending, that he always wanted for himself.

I need this to be a turning point for Buck where we finally see him settle into himself and I truly believe that for that to start he needs to let go of some unspoken things, he needs to be allowed to feel and to be angry at his family without knowing if he will have support.

And I need Buck to be the one to finally make Eddie realise how incredibly toxic and dangerous his behaviour is because no one else will probably get through to him. I also need Buck to understand that healing Eddie, that helping Eddie, can only go so far and that this is something that he can't fix because it's not his to fix.

I need Buck, the one person who always wants to help, who does everything to help, who will do anything to try to fix something, I need that Buck to be held and to be told that not everyone can accept his help. I need that Buck to be loved while someone tells him that Buck matters too, that Buck can not destroy himself for someone who might not even be ready to heal. I need Evan, the kid who always felt like something was wrong and that he had to make up for it, to be looked at and to be promised that he is enough, that just being him is enough and that he doesn't need to be more than that.

And yeah, if I think that Tommy can do that, then yeah, I need Tommy to be there while Buck is slowly realising that he matters too, that he deserves to be happy too.

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #kinley #tevan

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mountttmase · 13 days ago

Text

Change Of Heart

The Middle - Part Four

Note - coming at you a day early, so I hope that’s okay 😂 this chapter is a ride and I pray you won’t be too hard on our girly. She’s been through a lot and has a lot of emotions and also people aren’t angles 100% of the time (unless your name is Mason) so it’s normal for someone to have a strop. Sorry I really feel like I’m explaining myself here but I’m just scared you’ll hate her. This chapter also involves a song and I’ve added a thing so you can listen along to the version I was thinking about 🥰 LOVE YOU GUYS FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED AS ALWAYS 🩷😘

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 6.6K

Warnings - series contains angst & fluff

They say you always hurt the ones you love, and even though you never meant to hurt Mason, there always seemed to be moments over the years when you’d take your moods out on him.

You knew he was upset, but he always took it in his stride and let you have your strop before accepting your apology straight away no matter how much you didn’t deserve it. Not wanting to be moody with each other now you didn’t see each other as much but after you’d calmed down it didn’t make you feel any less guilty.

Moving to Manchester was everything you thought it would be and more.

Now you’d been promoted you could afford your own house up here and you made sure it had enough bedrooms so there was a spare for when Mason or your family wanted to visit and you felt incredible that you could provide for yourself and Gee all on your own.

Mason helped you move and unpack but he couldn’t stay more than one night as he had to go back to London and back to training but you were grateful for his help nonetheless and happy that he was finally onboard with such a big change.

It was the perfect fresh start, and you knew no one here so you made sure you made a few connections by joining a mummy and baby group in hopes of making some mum friends and on the first day you met Ell. It was her first day with baby Tommy and by the end of the hour you were becoming fast friends. Ell having lived in the area her whole life and she promised to take you under her wing and be there for you. Even skipping the class sometimes so you could take the babies out for lunch and have a gossip.

You saw and spoke to Mason as much as you could but you knew things had changed. FaceTime wasn’t the same as seeing him in person but the season was soon ending and you’d even managed to make it back down for his last game of the season. Watching on proudly as he picked up his second player of the season award and you knew it had meant a lot to him for you to be there.

It was the least you could do, Mason always sacrificing himself for you and you knew you weren’t always the best to him. Blaming your bad moods on being tired due to work and the stress of raising a child on your own in a place where you hardly knew anyone but Mason always took you as you came just like he had your whole life.

You loved your life up in Manchester though. Quiet nights spent with just you and Gee cuddled on the sofa as you told her how long you’d waited for her to come and everything you wanted to do together. Watching her grow and learn new things everyday as you learnt more about yourself in the process and when she wasn’t in your arms you didn’t feel whole.

You had been living in your house for around three months when Mason first came to stay for a few nights. It was a bit last minute and you had made plans to go out with your new work colleagues to get to know them a bit better but Mason assured you it was fine and that he would stay with Gee that night rather than her usual babysitter.

Gee was around ten months old now and Mason couldn’t believe how much she’d changed since he last saw her. His eyes filling up as he held her to his chest and you melted at the way she clung to him. Even though they didn’t get to see each other too often it was so lovely to see how strong their bond was. Mason eventually pulling you into his arms so you could all cuddle together by the front door and you didn’t miss the way your shoulders relaxed at his touch. Trying your hardest to not bury your face into his shoulder as you’d missed him so much but you pulled back and smiled at him sweetly.

‘Go sit, I’ll grab you a drink’ you told him and him and with a quick kiss to your cheek he made his way into the living room whilst you headed just down the hall to the kitchen to flick the kettle on.

You could hear Mason from the kitchen, letting Gee babble away at him as he tried to respond back to her with the noises she’d just made and as the kettle boiled, you popped your head around the corner so you could watch them. Masons back to you so he had no idea you were listening in but he was sat with Gee practically on his chest and you smiled softly at them as they made silly faces at each other.

You loved getting to see them bond, knowing how much Gee loved Mason already even though you didn’t get to see him as much, but soon enough her incoherent mumbles turned into actual words.

‘Dada’

‘Oh… oh no I’m not your dada baby’ he whispered, his voice sounding sad and your heart broke a tiny bit. Mason was more of a dad to Gee than anyone and the feeling of her not having that vital person in her life for her early years upset you more than you thought it would, but it was no match for the words that were about to come out of Mason's mouth. ‘I wish I was though, Gee. I’d do anything for you, you know that right?’ He whispered. ‘And I love your mummy so so much. More than I could ever tell you… or her. Trust me, I tried once and it did not go well’ he laughed.

You felt overwhelmed, stood in shock as you watched him confess his feelings for you to your baby in a soft voice so you didn’t hear but he clearly had no idea you could hear every word as he carried on talking. ‘It hurts you know? Knowing your person doesn’t quite see you as theirs but it’s okay. I’ve learnt to let her go and let her be happy, even if it’s not because of me. She’ll find her person one day and maybe I can learn to love someone like I love her. Like give someone else what I’ve always wanted to give her. I think I’d make a pretty good boyfriend if I let myself be one. And I think I’d make a good dad too, like I’m not that bad am I?’ He asked her and the excited yelp that left her little mouth made you smile even though your heart was breaking.

‘Thanks Gee, you always know what to say’ he laughed. ‘Who knows, maybe I can give you some cousins one day?’

He still loves me. After all this time he still loves me.

You’d always had a feeling Mason still liked you more than he should, but hearing him say it again to your little girl hurt. The fact that he was keeping it under wraps still gave you mixed feelings but clearly he didn’t want you to know as he was dealing with it in his own way so you figured you’d let him carry on.

You loved Mason, you just weren’t in love with him. If there was a way you could have flicked a switch to turn those feelings on then you’d do it in a heartbeat but all you knew right now was that you had to pretend like you hadn’t heard anything for the sake of your friendship. Knowing he’d leave if he knew you knew and you liked things exactly as they were.

You shook it off and made him his coffee just how he liked it. Carrying it into him quietly and when he smiled up at you in thanks you knew he didn’t know you’d overheard. Carry on talking to you without a care in the world as he played with Gee. You felt awkward though, no knowing what to say to him as a feeling of guilt settled into your tummy.

‘I need to go get ready’ you told him eventually. Making your way upstairs so you could start doing your hair and applying your makeup away from his big brown eyes and silly dimples but you were still thinking about what he’d said to Gee. The way he was still in love with you but just carried on and hid it like he was doing made you feel so confused

You were halfway through doing your makeup when you heard him walking up the stairs, his voice low as he told Gee he’d find you for her and after a quick knock at your door you let him know it was safe to come in.

‘See Gee, I told you she was here’ he cooed as he rounded the corner into your room and you sent her a smile as she looked your way. ‘Sorry, she didn’t believe me when I told her you were up here’ he laughed and you could see Gee sending you a huge smile back now.

‘That’s okay’

‘Are you alright?’ He asked as he took a seat on the edge of your bed but you just nodded your head. Still unsure as to what you should say to him. ‘You sure? You seem quiet’

‘I’m fine, just nervous. You know what I’m like with big groups of people’ you half lied but you could see him nodding away behind you in the mirror.

‘You’ll be fine, I promise’ he smiled before his eyes were flickering around your room. ‘Are you gonna wear that dress? He quizzed, nodding over to the one you’d hung up on the outside of your wardrobe and you nodded in response. ‘That's always been my favourite on you’ he beamed and you felt your tummy drop at his comment.

He let you get ready a little while after. Taking Gee downstairs so he could pop on the dancing fruit video she seemed to love so much to keep her entertained but when you came back down ready to leave you could see the disappointment and confusion all over his face that you’d chosen something different to wear.

Mason still showered you with compliments and helped you put on your necklace. His face beaming at the fact you still wore his gift after all these years but little did he know you felt lost without it.

Ever since he’d given it to you that fateful night you very rarely took it off as you felt like he was always with you when you had it on and even though things may have taken a weird little turn tonight there was no way you were leaving the house without it.

After a long goodbye with Gee you managed to make it out the door. Hopping in a taxi to take you to a restaurant nearby and as soon as you were inside your worries disappeared. You loved your new team and there were only around six of you so you were able to chat with all of them with no one feeling left out and really connect in a way you can’t do everyday in the office.

You checked your phone periodically but nothing had come through from Mason so you just figured the pair of them were having a lovely time and focused on getting to know your new colleagues.

You’d just finished up dessert when you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. Quickly reaching for it to see Mason's face filling up the screen so you excused yourself just off to the side so you could answer.

‘Mase, everything alright?’ You asked, thinking he was just updating you quickly but the beat of silence on his end made your tummy drop.

‘Hey, yeah no listen. It’s Gee. She’s been all grizzly since you left and I thought it was just her being moody but she’s had a temperature all night and-‘

‘She what? A temperature? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?’ you asked. Your tone sounding panicked as your tummy dropped and the thought of Gee being unwell and needing you while you were out.

‘Well I didn’t wanna ruin your night out and I thought she’d be fine but she’s getting really upset and-‘

‘I’m coming back’ you told him. Hanging up the phone so he didn’t have a chance to answer before grabbing your things and making a swift exit. You didn’t want to cause a fuss so you quietly let your assistant know and slipped away before anyone could say anything before making your way back home ready to tear Mason a new one.

When you first walked in, the sight you were met with would have usually warmed your heart. Gee laid on Mason's chest with her head smooshed into his neck as he rubbed her back but you could see her eyes were red from crying and her little nose looked flushed.

Mason on the other hand looked frozen in fear. Looking up at you like he’s was scared you were about to rip his head off but you paid him no mind. Slipping your jacket off before storming over so you could gently lift Gee from him. Thankfully Mason didn’t put up a fight but your plan to just completely ignore him and go upstairs was thwarted when he began to speak as you turned to leave.

‘I gave her some calpol about half an hour ago, it’s taken her temperature down a bit but she might-‘

‘I don’t need you to tell me how to look after my baby’ you snapped. Turning to face him and if you weren’t so furious and worried you might have felt bad for how you’d spoken to him. ‘I told you to call me if someone was wrong so why didn’t you?’

‘Cause I-‘

‘No Mason! There’s no excuse’ you cried but your loud voice had stirred Gee awake and her bleary eyes were right on Mason.

‘Come on Gee, let’s go to bed. We can cuddle for a little bit, okay?’ You whispered, walking straight towards the door but her tiny hands Were grabbing straight for the boy you furious with.

‘Dada’

‘No, Uncle Masons going to his room’ you told her. Loud enough so Mason could hear and as soon as he was out of Gee’s sight she began to cry hysterically. ‘Come on Gee, it’s okay. Mummy’s here now’ you told her trying to do anything you could to soothe her but nothing was working.

Guilt flooded you for the second time that day but now it was for a different reason. You were still feeling a little awkward about earlier and knew you shouldn’t have snapped like you did as he was just trying his best, but the idea of Gee being sick scared you and Mason was the only one around to take it out on.

You figured she was crying just because she felt so sick but when Mason appeared in your doorway around ten minutes later, the two of you looked up and over to him and only then she began to calm down as she reached for him. It was at that moment you realised she was upset because she thought Mason had left her.

He didn’t say a word, just came and sat in front of you so he could hold Gee’s hand and her sobs disappeared almost immediately. His big brown eyes flashing to yours but they were back on Gee almost instantly as a look of worry washed over him.

‘Lay down, I think it’s best you stay here. She won’t stop crying otherwise’ you told him quietly but he seemed hesitant.

‘Oh I-‘

‘Just do it… please’ you told him softly. ‘I need to get ready for bed and I’ll be back’ you gulped and with that you grabbed your things and went to the bathroom. Not taking too long to get changed and take your makeup off before you were rushing back to them. Gee now wide awake and looking up at Mason as he tried his best to make her smile but you noticed he toned it down as soon as you were back. Laying her on the bed in the middle of the pair of you so you could both look at her but you kept silent as you watched her giggle at Masons silly faces.

‘Why does she keep touching your lips?’ You asked quietly after a while. Not missing the way her little chubby fingers were repeatedly reaching up for his mouth and you noticed his cheeks turn pink as he tried not to smile.

‘I think she wants me to sing her our song’

‘Your song?’

‘Yeah, whenever I put her down for naps or to sleep I always sing to her. I’ve been singing to her a lot tonight to try and cheer her up’ He giggled nervously and you felt your heart melt for him just that little bit more.

‘You never sing for me’

‘That’s cause you said my voice sound like nails in a blender’ he joked, his eyes flashing up to yours but he clearly didn’t know where he stood still so he was quick to look away.

‘Well even so, Gee obviously likes it. You should sing to her now. It might help her sleep’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Come on, she’s practically begging you’ you encouraged and you knew you were breaking him down.

‘Well I can’t do it with you watching me’ he laughed, embarrassment written all over his face so you did the only thing you could think of and rolled over to your other side so you were facing away from the pair of them and the sound of his little laugh before he cleared his throat made you smile.

‘I would take the stars out of the sky for you

Stop the rain from falling if you asked me to’

You knew the song immediately. One of your mum’s favourites that she would listen to at home but listening to Mason sing it so softly to your baby gave the lyrics a whole new meaning and you felt every hair on your body standing up as you listened on.

‘I'd do anything for you, your wish is my command

I could move a mountain when your hand is in my hand’

You could hear the smile in his voice, and hear the laugh coming from Gee as she listened to him. Your eyes filling up almost instantly as he sounded so sincere and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have a friend like Mason who gave his all for a child that wasn’t even his.

‘Words cannot express how much you mean to me

There must be some other way to make you see

If it takes my heart and soul, you know I'd pay the price

Everything that I possess I'd gladly sacrifice’

You knew he meant every word he was singing just by the tone of his voice and as the song took on a whole new meaning to you, you felt your eyes spillover as you heard your baby giggling.

‘Oh, you to me are everything

The sweetest song that I could sing

Oh, baby, oh, baby’

You couldn’t take it anymore. Turning round to look at him and his eyes flashed to yours immediately. The bridge of his nose a deep red still as he was clearly a little embarrassed you’d heard him sing but to you it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

‘I’m sorry Mase’ you whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to have a go earlier, I was just worried’ you told him. Eyes filling with tears again as you took in his guilty face but soon enough his own face looked just as miserable as you felt.

‘I know love, it’s okay’

‘No it’s not. I was awful to you when all you’ve ever done is look after us. You know I trust you with Gee 100% and I’m sorry if I made you feel at different’ you gulped. ‘I see it every day how much you love her and we really don’t deserve you’

‘Y/n, it’s fine. I should have told you earlier I just wanted you to have a good night and I thought I could do it’

‘You did though Mase. You did everything right, see?’ You smiled. Motioning down to Gee who was laying there as happy as Larry but you could tell from the yawns she was ready for sleep. ‘She just needed a little bit more time for the medicine to kick in but she’s alright’

‘I was just worried’ he told you. His bottom lip wobbling and it really hit you how much this whole evening had upset him.

‘I know you were’ you sighed. Picking up a now barely awake Gee so you could place her in her crib next to you before turning back to Mason with your arms open for him. ‘Come here’

He didn’t need to be told twice. Shuffling over and laying his head on your chest so you could hold him while stroking his hair and you felt him deflate in your arms.

‘I really am sorry, Mason’ you whispered in his ear. ‘I was just worried too but I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that’

‘I know you were. That’s why I didn’t want to call you, which I know is stupid’ he sighed. ‘Are we okay? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me all day’

You felt even worse now knowing he’d picked up on your mood but there was no way you were telling him how you’d overheard him earlier so you just nodded your head. Wracking your brain for some sort of excuse to tell him but you were coming up short.

‘We’re okay, Mase. I’m really sorry for how I’ve acted today I’ve just been a bit stressed lately but it’s not your fault’

‘Okay’ he whispered. Kissing just over your heart as that was the only place he could reach and you felt your heart flutter at his softness and the love you felt for your best friend. ‘Gimme five minutes and I’ll go back to my room’

‘Don’t go, I’m comfy’ you whispered. Hearing him chuckle as he held you tighter but soon enough he was getting heavy and you knew he’d fallen asleep.

You didn’t have big arguments, but when you fell out it was usually your fault. But Mason being Mason always forgave you even when you didn’t feel like you deserved it.

You did your best to forget about Mason's confession and as the months passed you managed to get back into your normal routine with him. You and Gee still cheering him on from the sidelines but this season was turning out to be even weirder than the last.

The season wasnt over yet but it had been really tough for Mason. Ever since the World Cup he’d been carrying an injury and a few weeks ago he’d finally had surgery to correct the issue. He hadn’t played in a really long time and since he had a week in between recovery sessions he’d made the choice to come up and see you both.

It was perfect timing really since Ell had taken you away for a few days to her husband Noah’s families house in the south of France and the five of you had had the best time. Sending Mason Cute snaps of the kids on the beach but all he did was warn you to keep them apart as Gee was too young for a boyfriend.

y/n

liked by masonmount, ell_197, lukeshaw23 and others

y/n our first little holiday 🥺🩷 wouldn’t be the same without our besties. Thank you for inviting us into your home and making us feel like family 🥰 forever grateful for your kindness

masonmount my girls ❤️ cant wait to see you all

y/n we’ve missed you so much masey!!!

ell_197 the best trip 😘 I’m planning the next one as we speak

y/n so thankful for you 🩷 we had the best time ever and I loved watching our babies have fun together 😩

masonmount she’s not allowed a boyfriend

ell_197 who? 🤣

masonmount both of them 😌

Mummy_y/n wish we were with you both 😍

y/n us too 🥺 but we’ll see you real soon

Mason being free meant he was able to pick you up from the airport and at 3am your heart stuttered as Gee ran as fast as her little legs could take her into Mason’s waiting arms before he squeezed her like he never wanted to let go. Only opening his arm when you came close so he could pull you in too and the feeling of home flooded you.

This was the first time Mason had met Ell and her family and they seemed just as enamoured by him as Gee was. Noah admitting he was a big fan and was trying his hardest to get him to come and play for Man United. Mason just smiled and laughed like he usually did when someone said the same but you could see there was something else behind it this time.

You were home soon enough though. Popping Gee in her room so she could sleep before making your way back to the living room. You still felt wide awake and Mason had offered to make you a tea and to maybe watch a film as he wasn’t tired either due to his nap earlier, so you got yourself settled and began absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

There was a reason you never went on Facebook and right now was a perfect reminder as to why.

Facebook was full of updates from people you hadn’t spoken to in years or elderly family members posting badly taken selfies and stupid opinions but after an email popped up saying a girl you hadn’t heard of in years had posted a picture your curiosity got the better of you and you clicked on the link.

It was from there you went on a downward spiral. Mindlessly scrolling through your feed as you became reacquainted with people you hadn’t thought of in years. Wondering why half of these people even still used this god forsaken app until you came to a past that made you stop in your tracks.

‘I don’t think I’ve done the popcorn right’ Mason suddenly bellowed through the halls and as his voice got closer you sat yourself up on your sofa and tried to look like you hadn’t just had the biggest shock of your life.

‘I mean how difficult is it to microwave a bag?’ He carried on. ‘I didn’t think it would be that hard but I shook it and there’s still loads of kernels in there’ he complained. Finally flopping down next to you and you knew once he cast his eyes in your direction it was over for you. ‘Hey, y/n what’s wrong?’

How were you even supposed to explain your way out of this one? Mason was your best friend and knew you inside out so there was no lying to him but you weren’t sure you could get the words out to tell him exactly.

‘It’s Jack’ you sighed. His name leaving a sour taste on your tongue and you knew as soon as Mason stiffened besides you were in for a barrage of questions.

‘Jack? What? has he tried to talk to you or something?’

‘No no, I was just on Facebook and I must have forgotten to block him on there since I never use it and a post from him came up’

‘Oh okay, I get it must be tough to see his face again’

‘It’s not just that’ you sighed. Passing him your phone with a shaking hand to show him the picture and you didn’t even need to look at him to know he was shocked by what he saw.

You didn’t even know Jack was dating again, let alone be ready to propose to someone and the fact you could tell exactly where it was made it hurt even more. The place you’d planned on visiting once you’d both saved up enough to live out your big dream and looking at him living it without you felt suffocating. Like the elephant from the picture was sat on your chest so it could crush you until you never breathed again and all you wanted was to flee the scene and scream your lungs out.

‘Oh love, I’m so sorry’

‘It’s fine, you didn’t do anything’ you shrugged, taking your phone back from him before locking it and you couldn’t decide if you wanted to talk about it or not. Thankfully Mason made that decision for you and started going off about him and how he was never right for you in hopes it would make you feel better and you couldn’t deny shit talking about him for a bit made you smile a tiny bit.

‘You know I never liked him’ Mason told you after his big rant and when he took your hand in his he squeezed it tightly.

‘I know’ you laughed ‘I don’t care for him too much either’

‘What’s got you all upset then?’ He asked. Pulling you into his side a bit further and you rested your head on his shoulder so you could talk without looking at him.

‘I don’t even know’ you shrugged. ‘Its just weird to see I guess. Makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me’

‘There’s nothing wrong with you at all’

‘But if he can do it for her, like grow up and be a proper man then why couldn’t he do that for me?’

‘Because he wasn't meant for you’

‘Who is meant for me then huh? Cause they’re taking their bloody sweet time getting here’ you laughed but there was no humour in it.

I’m meant for you Mason thought. But he kept his lips zipped as he just wanted to be there for you.

The more you thought about him the angrier and more upset you became. Tears eventually spilling over onto your cheeks and there was no way you could hide them from Mason.

‘I know you didn’t like him, but he was the first boy I really loved, you know?’ You croaked. Looking up to Mason for a bit of sympathy and thankfully he was giving you just that. ‘The first one who told me they saw a future with me and mapped it out for us. Who wasn’t afraid to show me off even on my bad days and yeah it sucked the way it ended but we were happy once’

‘I know you were. And I know it’s cheesy but if you can be happy with him then imagine how happy you could be with me’

‘Wait… with you?’ You questioned. Mason's face paling as he realised what he’d said. A slip of the tongue that he was meant to keep inside but now it was out in the open and you could tell he was flustered.

‘Oh uh, no I didn’t meant me I um, I meant like-‘

‘No… you said you. You meant you’ you pressed, wanting him to just come out and say it but you knew he wasn’t going to. Fighting with his whole being to not let anything else slip out.

‘Y/n I-‘

‘Just be honest with me’ you told him firmly. Wanting him to come out and tell you what you already knew but now his face was bright red and even though he’d seemily backed him into corner he wasn’t coming out anytime soon.

‘Please y/n’

‘Do you… do you still have feelings for me?’ You asked. A mix of tiredness and your frustration about what you’d seen getting the better of you and as he tried to stutter out another excuse you lost it.

‘What? I-‘

‘Why are you doing this to me? You’re just as bad as him sometimes. Fucking with my emotions like this all the time. I told you when we were kids how I felt but here we are again. You’re making everything about you!’

‘I didn’t-‘

‘Whatever I don’t care. I’m going to bed’ you huffed. Storming off upstairs and slamming your door behind you in hopes that would send him a bit more of a message but as soon as you’d flopped down onto your bed you’d regretted the way you’d spoken to him. Tears springing in your eyes once more but you just let them flow, not ready to talk to anyone just yet as you needed to unscramble your thoughts

Mason had been sat with his thoughts for around five minutes when he heard footsteps coming back down the stairs but he knew straight away they weren’t yours. Waiting quietly for Gee to make her way into the living room and when she appeared in the doorway with the Gem the giraffe, the Teddy he’d gifted her when she’d just been born, under her arm Mason sent her a warm smile.

‘What are you doing up and about, misses? You should be asleep’

‘Where’s mummy’ she mumbled, her voice slow and sleepy as she rubbed her eyes and he realised she must have woken up when you’d slammed the door to your bedroom.

‘She’s just gone upstairs for a little bit. What’s wrong, pickle?’

‘Loud noise’ she pouted and Mason's suspicions were confirmed.

‘Oh I’m sorry, Gee. Would you like to come and sit with me for a bit?’ He asked, praying she would say yes so he wouldn’t have to go and disturb you but thankfully Gee nodded and made her way over to Mason. Standing in between his legs with her arms raised so he could lift her into his lap and once she was comfy with Gem cuddled into her chest, she was asleep again soon after. Her face smooshed into his shoulder as she laid across his body, holding onto his hoodie string with her tiny fist and he held her tightly before kissing her head good night.

It was around half an hour later when you realised you probably owed Mason an apology for blowing up like you had. Rubbing your eyes and sitting yourself up so you could build up the courage to make your way back down in hopes he was still on the sofa.

You came down to an unexpected sight, Mason still in his seat but a little visitor was asleep on his chest and your heart melted as you watched his hand rub over her back before he kissed the top of her head. Seemingly engrossed in whatever he had on the TV but he must have seen you moving in the corner of his eye and he turned to face you with a petrified expression.

‘What's Gee doing down here?’ You asked quietly.

‘She woke up when you went upstairs’ he told you and you instantly knew it was when you’d slammed the door. Guilt flooding you straight away that you’d managed to upset everyone under this roof tonight unintentionally. ‘I was gonna take her up in a bit she just seemed comfy here’

‘It’s okay, I’ll do it’ you nodded. Walking over and carefully picking her up from him and your heart thumped as she clung to your neck but that wasn’t the only reason. She smelt just like Mason as she’d been laying on him for so long and the need for his comfort consumed you. You just didn’t know if he’d want to give it to you this time.

It was a fairly simple job getting her back into bed. Usually when Gee was asleep she was dead to the world which made you feel even worse that you’d managed to wake her up but once she was back comfy under the covers with Gem cuddled under her chin, you stayed with her for a few minutes to check she was okay.

‘Mummy’s sorry baby’ you whispered. Pressing a kiss to her forehead as you smoothed her hair from her face but you knew there was someone else you needed to go and say sorry to.

Mason was still sat in the same spot, head resting on his hand that was propped up on the arm of the sofa and when you walked in he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. You didn’t give him the chance to say anything and you didn’t speak either, just crawled onto the sofa next to him and took up the space Gee just was. Nestling your head into his shoulder as you sprawled across him and even though the pair of you needed to talk things through, you were both giggling as he wrapped his arms around you and held you like a baby. Popping a kiss on your cheek as you got each comfy in each other's arms, a comfortable slice falling over you but you knew you needed to speak.

When you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you. Eyes full of confusion and hurt and even though you were terrified to open up to him, his scent that was so strong on Gee was now filling your senses and you felt at peace.

You felt at home.

‘I'm sorry for blowing up at you’

‘It’s okay-‘

‘No it’s not, Mase. You're not my punching bag and I shouldn't have said all that to you. It’s not your fault he’s gone and done that, I was just upset. The whole safari thing, that was my thing you know? Our thing, even. Not his’

‘I know love, and that’s what I meant earlier. He was a dickhead and you still wanted to go there with him, imagine the fun we’d have? And you don’t even need to imagine cause I promised you when we were kids I was taking you and I intend to stick to that promise’

‘Really’ you pouted.

‘Of course. You know when Gee’s a little older and she knows what’s going on and I’ve got the time I’m taking all of us, okay? I promised I would and I keep my promises’

‘Now I feel even more like a twat’ you laughed but he just held you closer. ‘I’m really sorry, Mase. It’s just hard. He always seems to get what he wants you know? He doesn’t deserve a happy ending’

‘I know it is, but you’ll get yours one day though i promise’ he whispered. ‘Shall we get you to bed? We can talk about it tomorrow if you still want to but I don’t want you down here winding yourself up’

‘Will you stay with me tonight?’ You asked. Looking up into big brown eyes. ‘I just know I’ll go crazy if I’m on my own’

‘Okay’ he replied shyly. Kissing your forehead gently before holding you close as you buried your nose into his neck. ‘If that’s what you want’

You realised in that moment that was a perfect phrase to sum up yours and Masons friendship.

If that’s what you want.

All he ever did was give you what you wanted to try and make you happy and as you laid in his arms you knew the next time he needed you you would be there for him in ways you never had before.

Little did you know that he’d be needing your more than he ever had sooner than you thought.

‘Will you sing to me like you sing to Gee?’ you asked. Laughing as you wrapped your arms around his bicep and nuzzled into his shoulder once you were both ready and in bed and you could tell from the way he laughed it was a no, but soon enough his soft voice was filtering through the room. Barely a whisper as he sung to you the song that was always reserved for Gee and it must have had the desired effect as soon enough you were sleeping peacefully next to him.

Mason kept singing though, using the fact that you were asleep to help him out a bit as the second verse of the song he always pictured you. It was like whoever wrote it had plucked the lyrics straight from Masons brain and you being asleep gave him the courage to finally sing this part to you.

‘Though you're close to me, we seem so far apart

Maybe given time you'll have a change of heart

If it takes forever, girl, then I'm prepared to wait

The day you give your love to me, won't be a day too late’

Tag list - @saltyheartnightmare @harvestmount @prideofpd @sid-vii @carlottawllms @footiehoemcfc @katharinanadiaa @whenelifallsinlove @neverinadream @cityzenchick @msnmnt @stikkibun @masonmtxo @chillymountsjess @yoursselo @maseymm @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @leclerc13

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impsandstars · 27 days ago

Text

What’s in a name?

I have compiled a screenshot of all of Blitz’s name credits at the end of every episode he’s in.

There is a change at the end of season 1 episode 8 (Queen Bee) where we get a single line through the O in his name. In this episode we get Blitz dealing with the aftermath of seeing Fizzarolli for the first time in 15 years.

Seeing Fizz after that many years has probably brought up quite a bit of emotional pain (his response upon seeing him at Ozzie's was to hide behind his menu and say "not him") for Blitz who we know cares very deeply for Fizz. At no point during Fizz's public humiliation of him during the episode Ozzie's does Blitz react or say anything in retaliation. He doesn't fight back. He still cares what Fizz thinks about him and having his once best friend treat him like that must have been quite a punch to the heart. Blitz accepts it all as it reinforces his own narrative that he is not deserving of the love of the people whose lives he ruined. All the emotional turmoil comes to a head at the end of episode 8 when he remarks how Fizz was right and he is going to die alone, coming to the conclusion that he and Fizz will never reconcile their relationship because Blitz believes he cannot be forgiven; that the damage he caused was unforgivable.

The second change is at the end of season 2 episode 5 (Unhappy Campers) where we get a second line through the O in his name. In this episode we get to see Blitz interact with his sister Barbie for the first time in presumably a while.

The relationship between Blitz and Barbie pre-fire is not really shown a lot in cannon (yet?). We know they did some sort of solo show together so presumably they were close siblings. Blitz cares enough about her to look in on her at rehab so we know, at least from his point of view, that Barbie is still an important person in his life. In this episode we get to see that relationship from Barbie's perspective. She clearly feels a lot of animosity toward Blitz ("haven't you ruined my life enough?"). She didn't let him know she had left rehab or that she had gotten a job and is apparently doing okay for herself. Blitz is no longer a part of her life. Blitz's reaction to seeing her in this episode is so sincere and very vulnerable for him. The desperation in his voice when he tried to get her to meet up with him to talk and she threw it back in his face? Ouch. Her comments about him ruining her life and her wanting him to stop trying? Double ouch. Much like with Fizz, Blitz is left with the understanding that forgiveness from her is something that he will never get as the damage has been done

The name Blitzo is a representation of his past (notice how the only people he doesn't correct about how to say his name are Barbie and Fizz). It is from a time when he had the love and connection of those in his family. After these two episodes it's almost as if that was the final reminder to Blitz that he longer has either of them. That that version of himself is gone.

By crossing out the O to change his name to just "Blitz" in the credits it's as if to say he has closed that chapter from his past. It shows that he feels, after these interactions, that it is no longer possible to be that person from his past, to be the person that was loved and cared for by Fizz and Barbie. He is no longer worthy of having that name and everything good that is associated with it because it's his fault he lost them.

Although, with the change of his name, it could potentially be a fresh start. A chance for him to build a new version of himself. A person worthy of the two most important people in his life and by extension the other people in his life he cares about too. ("I don't want to be this way, not forever").

#helluva boss #blitz #blitzo #wow this took a while to write #I have been fascinated with blitz changing his name for a while now and wanted to do a little of analysis on its meaning #and i love how they subtly included this change in the credits at the end of the two most impactful episodes about the people from his past #didn't seem coincidental to me

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a-hazbin-reader · 9 months ago

Text

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic ❌️Platonic

TW: Implied Abuse, Murder, Implied Gore, Period Typical Treatment of Women, Implied Sewerslide

Description: Alastor X Singer!Crime Family!reader who has known him in life and death and what their complicated relationship might be like, as canon compliant as I can bring myself to be

You grew up in crime family with an emotionally unavailable mother and violent dismissive father

Sure you were well fed, well dressed,well protected(despite the socially acceptable beatings from your parents) and educated but you were in a prison all of your own

You were your family's precious songbird with a voice like no other and a cage of steel around you, you often had small shows in clubs, bars, wherever your father could make it happen

Your father loved showing you off to his associates, friends, anybody who would listen really, in those moments you were his little girl who could do no wrong

Behind closed doors however

Because of your father's bragging all of his gross old friends took an unnecessary interest in you as well

Also did you know you're engaged to some brute who's nearly twice your age?? Some radio show producer who's had 3 wives before you and more women on his arm than you can count

But it's fine, you're fine

Is what you tell yourself until one day your fiance takes you to a radio station so you can sing there and you hear a familiar voice in one of the radio booths

Nofuckingwayisthatwhoyouthinkitisohfuckitshimitshim

You couldn't resist listening to one of your favorite radio hosts live but you also didn't want to interrupt so you stood and watched from afar as Alastor worked his magic

He was more handsome and magnetic in person, it was so unfair, you were completely entranced by him

Don't worry he noticed you too, amused by your gooey awestruck gaze

You could've stayed and listened to the whole show if your fiance hadn't suddenly yanked you away by your arm, reminding you that you were also here to work

You have a small wave and mouthed "big fan" as you were pulled away, ecstatic as Alastor gave a slick smile back

Now it was his turn to be intrigued, finishing up his show and exiting his booth to go and find where his delicious looking little fan went

Only to find himself happily surprised by your singing, deciding to sit and stay on his break, listening in appreciation for your voice

After that you two simply clicked, drawn to each other even if you both didn't understand it

You sneaking off every chance you could to talk and spend time with him and Alastor perking up anytime his door opened

It escalates from there, Alastor secretly sending you flowers/letters/anything you even glance at, you reciprocating by leaving little gifts/letters on his desk. The two of you having discreet rendezvous at night

It wasn't romantic at all and you two weren't in love, just really good friends

Who sometimes had moments of intimacy like snuggling, touching foreheads after a long embrace, a dozen almost kisses, a few kiss kisses

And when you inevitably found out that he's a cannibalistic serial killer he was worried he would have to hurt you, worried that you would be disgusted in him. That you wouldn't want to see him again

Imagine Alastor's surprise when you just sigh and start helping him clean his mess, almost nonchalant with the gore until you explain that your family has a violent history

Okay so maybe it's love maybe it's not, you two don't put a label on it or even discuss it really, you just enjoy the moment

Alastor hates your fiance, he hates that he doesn't treasure you, that he openly cheats on you, that he's rough with you, that he thinks he owns you

Safe to say that your fiance and Alastor hate each other but that's just fine because you hate your fiance too

Things were blissful between you two and you were even discussing running away together, your family and fiance starting to catch on to the relationship

You and Alastor began to finalize plans, picking a day to meet up and start your new lives

Except Alastor dissappears suddenly and doesn't return any of your letters, doesn't show up for his radio show and you can't find him

And one day you're caught by your father and fiance,checking Alastor's radio booth again, the two of them taunting you by telling you Alastor took a bribe and ditched you

You're forced to marry your fiance less than a month later, only making it a little longer before you take your own life, drowning in heartbreak and rage at the betrayal

You're not surprised when you find yourself in hell but damn it still feels like a punch to a gut

You know Alastor is there too, you know who this rising radio demon is but you don't want anything to do with him, you're still so angry

And he's angry at you too, thinking you moved on from him so easily, hurt that you never even looked for him(He's 100% creating scenarios in his head and hurting himself)

So it takes quite awhile before you two even cross paths, let alone hash things out, like a years and years sort of thing

Expect a lot of run ins that end in snarky comments and unnecessary romantic/sexual tension

It's not until one particularly explosive argument that you two realize that you've been getting the truth mixed up

But once it's settled then it's like nothing ever changed, except that you two have way more time together and you don't have to sneak around anymore

It's an open secret that you two are together even though neither of you have confirmed it or even put a label on it

You just always happen to be on his arm, canoodling at every chance and backing each other up in fights(verbal or physical). Every successful fight is rewarded with eskimo kisses

But you two are definitely practically husband and wife, a power couple even

But then one day he dissappears again

WHY

Maybe you two had a fight before he dissappears and he storms off for a walk. Maybe not

And then seven years go by and you fear that somehow you've lost him again, but for good this time

So you spend that time quietly mourning him and struggling to move on

You don't even find out he's back again until you hear him back in his radio tower, fighting with Vox

🙄😏 that man...

You're not even mad that he hasn't come to see you yet, simply relieved that he's alive and back

Okay you're a little mad, a little hurt

You're calm when you find out he's staying at some new hotel instead of coming back home, coming back to you

Okay you're not exactly calm, your friends would say you're simply hysterical behind closed doors

So you're livid when you find out he's staying with Lucifer's daughter and her friends because it's so obviously just a power grab for him

Fine

You definitely don't go over and cause a scene but you definitely do corner him at some point and let him have it

He's so fucking happy to see you that he's not even paying attention to what you're yelling about or why you're crying. He just pulls you in for a long hug, shutting you up with a rough kiss.

No you're not cupping each other's cheeks, foreheads pressed together as he apologizes over and over again for leaving you again

He won't do it again, not if he can help it

You find out that he's managed to dig himself a hole with a bad deal but that's about all you can figure out and he can't exactly tell you

But you manage to find it in yourself to forgive him(it's hard to stay mad at him), accepting that his time and attention have to be somewhere else for now

Then there's another extermination and one of your friends tell you to check the tv(something you probably don't normally do)

The moment you see Alastor facing off against Adam you're off, fighting and racing to get to him, to help him but he's gone by the time you get there. Lucifer and his daughter fighting him

But you know he's not dead this time, he wouldn't leave you again, not a third time

He promised

So you find him panicking in his busted radio tower and hold him until he calms down, promising that you two will find a way out of his deal

Maybe just hold his head to your chest and stroke his hair a little longer?

You were both reluctant to break apart, Alastor genuinely seeming remorseful as he nuzzles your forehead, telling you that he will visit you soon, that he's sorry for everything

Still he smiles 🙃

When he leaves to go back to the hotel you find yourself more tempted than ever to follow him, your heart aching to be near him again already

Maybe you should check in or at least offer to work there, they don't have an entertainer yet, do they?

Alastor when you show up:

"Darling, what are you doing here?"

I HAD TO GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM OKAY!?

Bonus! Charlie when she finds out about Alastor's boo:

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader

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pucksandpower · 7 months ago

Text

Lover

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the little (and not so little) ways that you and Charles show your love for each other

You’re in the kitchen, phone pressed to your ear as you listen intently to Charles’ mother give you her famous tiramisu recipe step-by-step. “Now, this next part is very important,” she stresses. “You’ll need one cup of granulated sugar to add to the mascarpone filling.”

“Got it, one cup sugar for the filling,” you confirm.

Pascale chuckles warmly. “I’m so glad Charles has found such a lovely girl who wants to learn my recipes. He’s always loved my tiramisu since he was a little boy.”

You smile, touched by her kind words. You and Charles have been together for a year now, but it still makes your heart flutter to be so accepted into his close-knit family.

“It means so much to me that you’re sharing this recipe with me,” you tell Pascale sincerely.

You chat with her a while longer, going over some of the trickier steps and getting tips on how to best soak the ladyfingers. Finally, you have the full recipe memorized and are ready to give it a try.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now. Thank you so much again, Pascale! I really appreciate you taking the time to walk me through this.”

“Of course, chère! Let me know how it turns out. Charles is a lucky man to have such a thoughtful girlfriend,” Pascale says warmly before hanging up.

You grin, eager to get started. You know tiramisu is Charles’ absolute favorite dessert and you want to surprise him with a homemade version tonight after he finally comes back from his latest race.

Humming to yourself, you gather the ingredients — mascarpone, eggs, espresso, cocoa powder, and of course, the sugar. You double check you have everything and preheat the oven so the ladyfingers will be perfect.

As you start the recipe, you feel a rush of excitement. You follow each step meticulously, Pascale’s voice guiding you in your mind. You carefully separate the eggs and beat the whites to stiff peaks. When it’s time to add the sugar to the mascarpone filling, you pause.

Now, which one was the sugar again? You look between the two identical jars of white powder, second-guessing yourself.

Shoot, you should have labeled them.

After a moment of hesitation, you decide on the bowl on the left. Yes, that must be sugar, you reassure yourself. You mix it into the silky mascarpone filling until it’s perfectly combined. Once assembled, you spread the filling over the ladyfingers and cover it with a final dusting of cocoa powder.

It looks absolutely beautiful. You did it! You made Charles’ favorite dessert completely from scratch. You can’t wait to see the look on his face when he takes the first delicious bite.

You glance at the clock as you clean up. Charles will be home soon. You carefully store the tiramisu in the fridge to chill until after dinner.

Right on time, you hear Charles’ keys in the lock. You hurry to greet him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “I missed you!”

He grins and nuzzles your neck. “And I missed you, ma belle.”

Over dinner on the balcony, Charles tells you all about the race and his ambitious one-stop strategy under the Suzuka cherry blossoms. You listen attentively, asking questions and laughing at his dramatic reenactments.

Finally, it’s time for dessert. “I have a surprise for you,” you say with a playful smile.

Charles’ eyes light up. “Oh really? Do tell!”

You bring the chilled tiramisu to the table, along with two small plates and forks. “Ta-da! I made your favorite, with your mom’s secret recipe.”

“No way, you’re kidding!” Charles exclaims. He takes in the layered dessert with delight. “It looks incredible, mon cœur. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

You blush happily as you dish out servings for both of you. “I hope I did it justice. Your mom walked me through the whole thing over the phone.”

Charles takes a big eager bite, closing his eyes as he savors it. “Mmm … it’s absolutely delicious,” he declares after swallowing. “Seriously, this is amazing. Here, you have to try it!”

He holds out a forkful toward you. You accept it into your mouth, immediately bursting into incredulous laughter. “Oh my god, this is so salty! I definitely screwed up somewhere. You don’t have to eat it!”

But Charles just grins and takes another hearty bite. “What do you mean? It tastes perfect to me.”

You stare at him in confusion. “You can’t actually like this, Charles. It’s like I poured the entire salt shaker in by accident.”

“No no, it’s great! The best tiramisu I’ve ever had,” he insists. Seeing your disbelief, he takes your hand from across the table. “Really, Y/N. I love it because you made it just for me. With love. That’s what makes it so special.”

You feel your insides turn soft and melty at his words. “You’re just saying that to be nice,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because ...” He pauses, looking into your eyes sincerely. “Because I’m completely in love with you, mon amour. I’d eat a thousand salty tiramisus if it made you smile like this.”

You can’t help the joyful laugh that escapes you. “You’re such a hopeless romantic, you know that?” You tease him.

“Only for you,” he flirts back with a playful wink.

You lean across the table to kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, the adoration shining in his green eyes leaves you breathless.

Maybe he’s right. It doesn’t matter that the tiramisu is an utter fail. All that matters is that you made it with love.

And that’s the sweetest taste of all.

***

It’s been a few weeks since your salty tiramisu mishap. You and Charles laughed about it afterwards, but you were still determined to make him something special with your own two hands.

So you decided to take up crocheting. It was trickier than you expected, but you persevered, watching YouTube tutorials and getting tangled in yarn for hours.

Finally, after a month of work, you’ve produced your first wearable creation — a sweater for Charles.

It’s an oversized style, cream colored with red racing stripes across the chest. You did your best to evenly stitch the rows, but there are gaps in some places that cause the stripes to waver drunkenly.

The sleeves are several inches too long, dangling adorably over Charles’ hands when he tries it on. And the neckline gapes open no matter how he tugs it.

But none of the flaws matter to Charles. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning when you present it to him.

“You made this? For me?” He asks as he eagerly pulls it on.

You nod, suddenly shy. “I wanted to make something special for you, even if my skills are still .... developing,” you admit with an embarrassed chuckle.

But Charles is beaming, admiring himself in the mirror. “It’s perfect! Seriously, I love it. This is the best gift ever!”

He engulfs you in a big hug, sleeves flopping over you. You hug him back, relieved and happy he appreciates your efforts.

From that day on, Charles insists on wearing the sweater constantly, even styling it with whatever eclectic pants he decides to wear on race weekends.

You try to discourage him — the holes along the hem are getting bigger from snagging and the neckline is truly unsalvageable.

But Charles won’t hear it. “Are you kidding? This is my new lucky charm!” He declares. “I have to wear it for every race now.”

Sure enough, he starts a winning streak whenever he dons your handmade sweater, even though it’s quite a departure from the fitted shirts and designer hoodies he previously favored, leaving his fans scratching their heads at the sudden change.

You watch in amused endearment as he proudly wears your gift for candid pre-race interviews and photo-ops. The overlong sleeves just make his exuberant gestures even more adorable.

Finally, a reporter works up the courage to ask him about the quirky sweater. “That’s quite a statement piece you have been arriving in each Sunday,” the reporter comments during a press conference. “What made you decide to wear it?”

Charles’ face lights up even more. “My sweater? It was handmade for me by my incredible girlfriend,” he announces, making you blush furiously from the audience.

“She worked so hard on it, even though crocheting is totally new to her. So I wear it to show how much I appreciate her and how talented she is,” he continues sincerely.

The reporters “aww” as Charles shows off the uneven stitches like they’re couture. “It’s my good luck charm now too! She put so much love into making it that I feel like I can’t lose whenever I have it on.”

He looks directly at you, eyes shining. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received, because she made it just for me. I’m the luckiest man in the world to be with someone so thoughtful and caring.”

You have to wipe away joyful tears at his heartfelt words. You never imagined your clumsy crocheting would come to mean so much to him.

But Charles wears that sweater for every race, no matter how tattered it gets. Because for him, it represents something priceless — your love.

***

You hum along to the radio as you stir the melted chocolate in a bowl. The rich aroma fills the air of your shared apartment. Today is Valentine’s Day and you want to surprise your boyfriend with homemade chocolate-covered strawberries when he gets home from training.

You dip the first plump, red strawberry into the silky chocolate, letting the excess drip off before placing it gently onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. One by one, you coat each strawberry, taking care to fully submerge them.

When the tray is full, you quickly pop one glistening strawberry into your mouth and slide the rest into the fridge to let the chocolate harden. As you wait, you tidy up the kitchen, washing the bowls and utensils used to make the treat. A glance at the clock on the microwave tells you Charles will be home soon.

The sound of the front door opening makes you grin. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls out.

You grab the tray of chocolate-covered strawberries and head towards his voice. “Welcome home! I have a surprise for y-”

You stop short, your throat suddenly feeling scratchy and tight. Your lips tingle oddly.

Confused, you lift a hand to your neck. Is this just excitement to see Charles? But no, your tongue is starting to swell now too. Your breathing becomes labored.

Charles rounds the corner. “Mon ange, what’s wro-” His eyes widen as he takes in your distress. In a few quick strides he is by your side, the tray clattering forgotten to the floor. “What’s happening?”

You wheeze, barely able to force out words. “Can’t … breathe …”

Charles sweeps you into his arms and runs for the front door. “Hospital. Now.”

You cling to him, each ragged breath a struggle. The world seems to blur and tilt alarmingly.

Then somehow you’re in Charles’ car, speeding down the street. One of his hands grips the wheel while the other clutches yours tightly. “Just hold on, stay with me. We’re almost there.”

You try to respond but only manage a choked gurgle. Black spots swim across your vision. A feeling of detachment steals over you.

The car screeches to a stop outside the emergency department entrance. Charles lifts you from the passenger seat, calling for help. There is a flurry of activity as a team of doctors and nurses rushes over with a gurney.

You are barely aware of being wheeled into an exam room, too focused on trying to pull air into your lungs. A mask is fitted over your face, dispensing blessed oxygen. An IV is inserted into your arm.

The medical staff works quickly, asking Charles questions as they begin treatment. Antihistamines. Steroids. Epinephrine. The medications slowly start to counteract your reaction. The vice-like tightness in your chest and throat gradually lessens.

After what feels like an eternity, you are able to take full breaths again. The room comes back into focus, no longer spinning. Charles sits at your bedside, clutching your hand, his handsome face creased with worry.

The doctor examines you, nodding with satisfaction as your symptoms continue to improve. “It appears you had a severe allergic reaction. We’ll run some tests to determine the cause.”

Charles looks stricken. “But how? What could have possibly …” His gaze falls on your swollen lips. “The strawberries,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. It had to have been. You’ve never reacted to them before, but an allergy can develop at any time.

Charles smoothes back your hair, distress pouring off of him. “I’m so sorry, mon cœur. I should have been there with you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You couldn’t have known. I’m okay now thanks to you.”

He just shakes his head, unconvinced.

The testing confirms it — you are now mysteriously allergic to strawberries. The doctor gives you an EpiPen prescription and strict instructions to the fruit in the future.

After several more hours of observation, you are finally discharged from the hospital with an exhausted Charles supporting you.

The sun has long since set on what was supposed to have been a romantic Valentine’s Day. Instead, you spent it swollen and terrified in the ER.

Back home, Charles tucks you into bed, insisting you rest. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror — puffy-faced and red-eyed — and cringe. Some Valentine you turned out to be.

You reach for Charles’ hand again. “I’m so sorry I ruined our evening. I wanted it to be perfect but instead I ended up scaring you half to death and forcing you to rush me to the hospital.”

Charles silences you with a gentle kiss. “Not another word, mon amour. You have nothing to apologize for. All that matters is that you are safe.”

He caresses your cheek, looking at you with such love and tenderness it makes your heart ache. “You could never ruin anything. You are the light of my life — my everything. No Valentine’s Day is complete without you.”

You feel yourself tearing up. Even after the ordeal of this evening, he still looks at you like you hung the moon.

“You’re still the most beautiful Valentine I’ve ever had, you know that? A little swelling can’t hide that.” Charles brushes away your tears and pulls you close. “Rest now. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You nestle into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady heartbeat soothe you. As you drift off, you can’t help but marvel at how lucky you are to have this man. Even at your puffiest and most distressed, he thinks you’re beautiful.

No matter what surprises life throws at you, with Charles by your side you know everything will be okay. He loves you unconditionally — swollen lips, hospital visits, and all.

***

“Close your eyes,” you say to Charles as you lead him into the living room.

He laughs and covers his eyes with his hands. “What are you up to, mon amour?”

You grin, though he cannot see it. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

You guide him across the room, hands on his shoulders. He shuffles along, peeking through his fingers.

“No peeking!” You scold, and he squeezes his eyes shut again, smiling.

You position him in front of the coffee table. “Okay,” you say. “You can open your eyes now.”

Charles drops his hands. On the table sits a large gift-wrapped box with a massive red bow on top. His eyes go wide with surprise and delight.

“For me?”

You nod, bouncing on your toes excitedly. “Happy birthday!”

He pulls you into a tight hug. “You are too good to me, ma belle. Thank you.” Leaning down, he captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You swat his shoulder playfully. “You don’t even know what it is yet! Open it.”

Charles grins and turns his attention to the present. He carefully unties the bow and lifts the lid on the box. Inside sits a sleek red bomber jacket with the Ferrari logo embroidered on the chest. He runs his fingers over the leather appreciatively.

“This is beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Look on the back,” you prompt.

Charles turns the jacket over. Across the back, in bold white letters, it reads: DADDY.

His eyes go wide again, and for a moment he just stands there gaping at the jacket. Then his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses to the floor in a dead faint.

“Charles!” You rush to his side, kneeling next to him on the plush carpet. Gently you pat his cheek, trying to rouse him. “Charles, wake up!”

After a few tense moments, his eyelashes begin to flutter. You breathe a sigh of relief as he opens his eyes.

“Wha … what happened?” He mumbles.

“You fainted, silly.”

You help him sit up slowly. He puts a hand to his head, still looking dazed.

“I had the strangest dream …” He trails off, glancing around the room. His gaze lands on the jacket lying nearby, and his eyes widen again.

“It wasn’t a dream,” you say softly.

Charles looks at you, lips parted in shock. “Then you … you’re …”

You furrow your brow in confusion. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant!” He exclaims. “We’re having a baby!”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to go wide. “What? No! I’m not pregnant!”

Charles frowns, thoroughly bewildered. “But the jacket said … I thought it was your way of telling me we’re expecting.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Oh my goodness, no. The jacket is for a very different reason.”

He looks almost disappointed. “It is?”

You take his hands in yours. “I know you’ve been talking about getting a dog for months now, ever since you met Mimi.”

Comprehension begins to dawn on Charles’s face. “So the jacket …”

“Is for our new puppy!” You finish excitedly.

Charles’ face lights up. “You got me a dog? Really?”

You nod, grinning. “Really! I picked him up yesterday from the shelter. He’s the cutest little dachshund, white with brown spots. I’ve been keeping him at your brother’s so I could surprise you today.”

Charles whoops and tackles you in another ecstatic hug. You laugh as he covers your face in rapid, smacking kisses.

“This is the best birthday surprise ever!” He crows. “I can’t believe we’re finally getting a dog. And the jacket — it’s perfect!”

He grabs the bomber and shrugs it on over his t-shirt. It fits him flawlessly, the white lettering bold against the red.

Charles scrambles to his feet and rushes to the nearest mirror, twisting this way and that to admire himself. “I love it! Thank you, thank you!”

You stand and wrap your arms around him from behind, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I’m so glad. But you should really be thanking your new baby boy.”

Charles turns in your arms and cups your face in his hands. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best girlfriend in the world?”

You grin up at him. “Hmm, I don’t recall. Feel free to remind me.”

“You …” He punctuates each word with a kiss. “Are …” kiss “The …” kiss “Most …” kiss “Thoughtful …” kiss “Loving …” kiss “Girlfriend …” kiss “In …” kiss “The …” kiss “World.”

You pretend to swoon. “My, what a sweet talker you are.”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly. When you break apart, his eyes are shining.

“So when do I get to meet our new baby?” He asks eagerly.

“Right now, if you want,” you say. “We can go pick him up from Lorenzo.”

Charles pumps a fist in the air. “Yes! I’m going to be the best dog dad ever, just you wait and see.” He crouches down and coos, “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?”

You pat his head playfully. “You’re a good boy.”

Taking your hand, he practically drags you out the door, babbling excitedly about names, beds, toys, and treats for the puppy the whole way to the car. Your heart swells watching his enthusiasm. You know that dog is going to be the most loved and cared for pup in the world.

When you arrive at his brother’s apartment, Charles bounds up to the front door ahead of you, unable to contain his excitement. Lorenzo opens it laughing, the wiggling brown and white puppy in his arms.

“Someone’s here to see you!” He says, handing the squirming bundle of fluff to Charles.

“Hello, hello!” Charles cuddles the puppy to his chest, his whole face alight with pure joy. The pup responds by licking every inch of Charles’ face he can reach.

Charles laughs delightedly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy? Yes you are!”

He looks up at you, eyes shining. “Thank you, mon cœur. This is the best gift I could have asked for.”

You lean in and scratch the puppy behind his silky ears. “Of course. Happy birthday, my love.”

As you walk back to the car, Charles cradling the puppy like a newborn, you know in your heart that your little family is one step closer to completion.

***

The race weekend after Charles’ birthday feels strange. As you wander through the Ferrari garage during free practice, Fred rushes over looking concerned.

“Here, take a seat,” the team principal says, grabbing a folding chair and positioning it behind you. “You should not be on your feet so much in your condition.”

You frown in confusion. “What condition?”

But the French man has already hurried away. Shaking your head, you continue walking. It’s a few minutes later that you spot Pierre.

“Hey!” He says, jogging up to you. Before you can react, he places both hands on your stomach and smiles brightly. “Wow, it’s hard to believe that little baby Leclerc is in there! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew.”

Now you’re really bewildered. You take a small step back from Pierre’s wandering hands. “What are you talking about? I’m not pregnant!”

Pierre laughs. “Very funny. You don’t have to hide it from me.” He winks and walks away.

When Charles finds you later, you’re still puzzling over the strange encounter.

“Everyone is acting so weird,” you tell him, explaining what’s been happening all day. "It’s like they all think I’m pregnant or something."

Charles frowns. “That is odd. Where would they get that idea?”

You shake your head. “I have no idea …”

Later, after the last practice session of the day, you wander into Ferrari hospitality for a quick cup of coffee. Carlos quickly spots you and makes a beeline over, cheeks flushed with excitement.

“I just saw the photos of Charles wearing his new jacket.” He says. “A mini Leclerc on the way, how wonderful! Congratulations to you both.”

“What? No, there’s no …” you start to protest, but Carlos is already walking away.

Charles comes up beside you, having overheard. “This is getting out of hand,” he mutters. “We need to clear this up.”

“I know!” You say. “I feel bad, they all seem so excited. They must think we’re hiding a pregnancy from them.”

An idea comes to you then. Turning to Charles, you say loudly, “Honey, why don’t we go introduce the baby to everyone? I know they’re all just dying to meet him!”

Charles catches on immediately, smiling slyly. “Of course! Let’s go get our little one right now.”

You nod, linking your arm through his. As you walk away, you hear gasps and murmurs behind you.

“They already had the baby? When did this happen?”

“I can’t believe they’ve been hiding it all this time!”

You have to stifle a laugh. Charles grins and squeezes your hand.

In his driver’s room, your puppy is napping contentedly on a plush dog bed. Charles scoops him up gently so as not to wake him. Cradling the pup, you both head back out to the hospitality suite.

Everyone turns to look at you eagerly as you enter. Carlos steps forward, craning his neck to see the bundle in Charles’ arms.

“Here he is!” You announce proudly. “Our baby boy!”

Charles turns so they can see the sleeping dachshund nestled against his bomber jacket. A shocked silence falls over the room.

“Wha … that’s not a baby!” Carlos splutters. “That’s a dog!”

You and Charles just shrug with matching sly smiles. “He’s our baby.”

As the puppy yawns and stretches in Charles’ arms, licking his chin affectionately, you know with certainty that your furry new addition will be showered with just as much love and adoration as you both share for one another.

Who could ask for anything more?

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souliebird · 5 months ago

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[[and then I met you || ch 22]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.3k

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It takes you a little over an hour to get Minnie to go down for bed. Tomorrow is her birthday party and to say she is excited is an understatement. She was practically jumping off the walls and it took three different books, a bottle, and two lullabies to finally get her to drift off. You are thankful when she doesn’t sit up again and call for you after five minutes, because you have a lot to do.

You need to clean up the apartment and decorate, you need to prepare pancake batter for a princess style breakfast, you need to finish wrapping presents, and you need to set up the couch for Matt. He will be coming by after his Patrol so he can stay the night and Minnie can wake up to the surprise of him being there, which is the perfect way to start her celebratory weekend.

But before any of that, you need to go take a shower so you can have a proper breakdown.

When you were younger, you believed crying was a sign of weakness. Your parents had treated it as such, always dismissive if you cried. The reason had never mattered - shedding tears was pointless and for children, so you had learned to bottle everything up and push it all down until the act of crying physically hurt you. Only very recently did you accept that crying is healthy.

You still hate doing it, though, and the only way you have found to balance your shame and your need for that emotional release is to treat it like another task you need to accomplish.

You triple check your daughter is truly asleep before you close the door to the bathroom and start the water. You keep yourself composed as you strip and only once you are under the spray do you let the tears start to fall.

So much has happened in such a short time and your anxiety has been through the roof.

The first bill for your hospital stay arrived today and you have been too scared to open it. You are terrified to go back into medical debt - giving birth in the United States had drained a lot of your savings and you have built it back up. You know there are all sorts of hidden fees, and you are going to need to do so much work contacting the various billing offices to try to get prices down.

It isn’t even like you are fully recovered from being in the hospital in the first place. You only just finished your antibiotics last week and your ear still randomly throbs or rings.

But honestly, you don’t know if that is from being sick or almost having your head bashed in.

You thought you would be okay after the attack. You thought Minnie would be the one with problems - having nightmares and jumping at shadows - but after the first day of making sure you were okay, she’s been fine. You haven’t been.

You’ve been plagued with nightmares about hands around your neck. You’ve been jumping at shadows when you leave the apartment.

You keep constantly checking your locks and you debate ordering pepper spray.

You don’t know what to do.

You aren’t okay.

You don’t feel safe.

The only time you have felt secure is when Matt was there to hold you and remembering such only signals your brain to send a new wave of tears.

He confuses you in a way no one else ever has.

You have never met anyone who cares so much before. It is overwhelming how much he loves Hell’s Kitchen - enough so to become a vigilante to protect it - and it is overwhelming how much he loves Minnie. You thought only you could love her that much.

Seeing them together does things to your heart you don’t understand. You just want to watch them play and bond until the end of time. They smile and laugh, and it is the only time you ever feel Whole. You feel like everything is perfect when the three of you are together.

You don’t know what to make of that. You don’t trust yourself with it - you’ve never felt like that before and you are scared that if you think too hard about it, you’ll find a flaw and the feeling will be ruined.

You just want Matt to hold you while the two of you watch Minnie play and that isn’t an okay fantasy for you to have. You don’t have that type of relationship with him.

He is a naturally touchy person with a huge heart. You’ve seen him hug Karen and Foggy before and you know he has only ever wrapped his arms around you to comfort you.

And he wants to comfort you because you are the mother of his child. He wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for Minnie and that is something you need to remind yourself of.

Matt loves Minnie. Family is extremely important to him, and he has told you time and time again that he strives to be the best dad possible for her - so of course that means he needs to take care of you and make sure you have a positive relationship.

If you and Matt butt heads, that wouldn’t be what was best for Minnie.

You need to do what is best for Minnie.

Which means you need to stop crying and get to work.

You wipe at your tears until they start to slow, then wash your face while still under the spray. It takes a minute or two for you to fully calm down, but once you do, it is like the tap is turned off. Crying time is over, so you stop your shower and quickly dry off so you can get dressed.

You feel better, but in a kind of dull way. It is like all the pressures in your life have been turned down to something more manageable and you know you will be able to focus on your tasks without slipping into a panic attack.

The apartment is not nearly as dirty as you believed it to be. You have to straighten some things up and you take the time to wipe down all the flat surfaces, but after that, you start putting things up. There’s a pink and yellow Happy Birthday banner and you blow up a few inflatables you found shaped like flowers and stick them to the walls. You twirl streamers together to decorate the back of the couch and the dining chairs, and your favorite piece is the pink sparkle fringe to hang over the hallway entrance. It isn’t the most elaborate of set ups, but you know Minnie will love it and that is all that matters to you.

Once your living space is Birthday themed, you turn to the kitchen. You went shopping today to make sure you had everything needed for a spectacular breakfast. You found a recipe for extra fluffy pancakes, and it seems easy enough - it calls for letting the batter rest overnight and you particularly like that as it is one less thing to do in the morning while trying to handle a rowdy toddler.

It doesn’t take long to get everything prepped and before you know it, it has been close to two hours since you put Minnie down to sleep and you feel it is finally safe to bring her presents out of their hidey holes to be wrapped.

She has grown a bit since you last bought her clothes, so you got her a nice little haul, including a new princess dress for her to wear to the zoo. It has sparkles and tulle and the dress comes with a matching crown you just know she won’t want to take off. You are extremely proud of the find.

You didn’t just get her clothes, though. Minnie has been more and more interested in helping you cook, so you got her a little kitchen play set. It comes with pots and pans, knives, utensils, bowls, plates, and some fake food. You thought it would be fun to have her practice her skills - she’s a pro at helping you stir and mix, and she knows how to use a butter knife to cut up fruit. You hope she enjoys pretending to wash her dishes, so you lure you into helping into that part of cooking, but you don’t think anyone finds that chore fun.

Before you can start wrapping, you need to go through everything and remove all the tags and stickers. It is a boring activity that takes far too long, so you decide you are going to multitask while doing so. You grab your laptop and notebook and settle down among your pile of bags.

Since your talk with Matt about Daredevil, you have been in research mode. The first few nights, you read every article you could find about the Devil. You started with the reputable sources - purely focusing on news reports - and once you had a timeline of events down, you switched to opinion pieces. You quickly ended up sorting those into three categories - positive outlooks, negative outlooks, and outlooks written by Karen Page.

You took notes on everything - making pro and con lists on each major event and circling back to jot down questions you had. You felt insane - and frankly a little invasive - but it was how you processed things. You wanted it all laid out nicely in front of you so you could come to your own conclusions.

But to get to that final conclusion, you still have a lot of internet sleuthing to do, so you open up a new internet tab.

One of the most important things you want to know about Daredevil is how real people feel about him. Published articles are always biased - it is in their nature to be based purely on who produces them - but social media lets the mass in on the conversation. You learned that well after the Attack on New York.

You remember the majority of the news singing praise for the Avengers and how they saved the Earth - which you truly did appreciate - but no one came and spoke to the people whose lives had been ruined. Sure, they talked about how much destruction had happened and how much it would cost to rebuild, but no one had mentioned how Hell’s Kitchen and Chelsea had been almost flattened. No one cared about the low-cost homes that had been destroyed or the poor people crushed in debris - not when they could talk about the Big Bank buildings the Hulk had run through. Why talk about those genuinely affected when you could bring in a mouthpiece who was halfway across the world?

Iron Man didn’t give two shits about the people whose lives he saved. If he did, he’d help them in the aftermath, and he didn’t. None of the Heroes did - they started going around the world while an uncaring government was left to clean up the mess. Repairs went to the lowest bidder and many things were deemed too expensive and just left to crumble.

But only internet forums and ten second social media videos talked about that.

Matt talks so passionately about helping people in Hell’s Kitchen, so you need to know if it is real, or just all a puff piece.

You look first into the forums and to your surprise, there is a whole section for New York vigilantes. You resist the urge to dive into the threads about Spider-Man and the Hero of Harlem and you have to scroll to the bottom of the front page to find something about Daredevil.

It is CCTV footage of Daredevil chasing off what looks to be some teenagers trying to rob a pawn shop and there are a few dozen comments under it. You smile as you start to read them - the majority of it is praise for Matt, with the few negative comments being about the quality of footage.

And each thread you find about Daredevil is like that. You expected to see issues with excessive force like you saw in the opinion pieces, but there is nothing. People who you can tell are locals all comment about how he doesn’t hurt kids, and his punishments reflect the severity of the crime. Muggers get a few good swats while those who commit domestic violence are given as good as they gave. It is gang members and real dangers who end up in the hospital. There are about a handful of posts giving firsthand accounts of how the Devil helped them - ranging from them being in serious danger to Matt helping a drunk woman safely get a cab.

From what you can see, the people who post in this forum like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and genuinely feel safer with him around. The site is a little niche, though, so you switch to a more popular platform to see if you can find different opinions and different opinions you find.

Just not the ones you expected.

There is a new picture of the Devil that has gained traction in his tag that is rather good quality - Matt is squatting on a roof, seemingly observing a street, and is framed in such a way to show off his lower half. His thighs, which you know are all muscle, are highlighted wonderfully and the angle of the photo only emphasizes his backside. His upper back and shoulders are all in shadow, but you can tell just how broad they are.

Twitter absolutely loves the image, and you think you have to agree with them. You can feel your cheeks heating up and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the screen.

Matt is beyond physically attractive, and it is no wonder the internet is lusting after him. There is a litany of lewd comments from multiple people and one made by a user with a cartoon frog as their profile picture has your core twitching and you quickly hide your face in your hands.

“imagine him bending you over a rooftop and fucking you until all you can do is drool ♥”

You don’t want to think dirty thoughts about Matt. It makes you feel awkward and guilty but mostly they make you Want, and you desperately want to bat that away.

You very obviously have slept with him before and know what a good lover he is. You know what his skin feels like against yours and your mouth goes dry at the memory of how loudly he moaned while between your legs. His stamina is no joke, and you can only imagine it has improved since he’s started being a vigilante.

You have no doubt he could easily fuck someone stupid.

You tell yourself you can’t think like this - you are supposed to be researching Daredevil to figure out how you feel about Matt being a vigilante - not ogling pictures of his ass and remembering your night together.

You gently smack your cheeks a few times and tell yourself to focus.

That only serves to make you more flush, so you make the executive decision that you have had enough screen time for the night and slam shut your laptop.

You have removed all the tags from the clothes, and you only have a few UPC stickers to pull off fake food, so you hurry through those so you can get to actually wrapping presents and not thinking about what you saw.

It is easy for you to get quickly lost in this new activity. Your perfectionist nature has you needing to make sure every crease is even and crisp and that each present looks picturesque, and you can't do that while distracted. Your thoughts shift from the way Matt’s breath felt against your skin to how many gifts Minnie has and how each one needs to look unique.

You know Minnie is going to tear through them like a wildfire, but it is important to you to make sure love is poured into everything.

You never got that as a child. Your birthdays were practical affairs and more often than not your present was to go clothes shopping, so you didn’t get to unwrap things or have that grand surprise. You don’t want that for Minnie. You want her to feel like an absolute princess on her special day and if that means rewrapping the same present four times to make it perfect, then that is what you will do.

You are finalizing bow placements on the gift bags you had to use for odd shaped items when your phone vibrates with an alert.

For a split second you are confused - it is rather late, and you’ve muted most app notifications - but then you remember Matt is meant to be coming over.

You don’t know how it could have slipped your mind and embarrassment burns through you.

How are you going to face him after staring at a picture of his ass until your brain broke?

You hesitate to check your phone, but when you do, you obviously have a text from him saying he is on his way. You groan to yourself, wondering how you can save yourself from this awkward situation?

Maybe you can go to bed early. You aren’t at all tired - you usually are up for another few hours - but you have a long weekend ahead of you. You will need rest.

In your bed.

Where Matt will not be.

Because, for the first time in a while, he will be sleeping on the couch.

Which you still need to prepare.

You finish fussing with Minnie’s bounty of presents and set about arranging them up the Happy Birthday banner like it is a Christmas tree. You have to resist your urge to nitpick and instead turn your focus to cleaning up your mess. You hurriedly shove the pile of trash you made into a bag so you can toss it and your wrapping supplies are tucked into the back of the closet, where they will live until you need them again.

You do a quick once over to make sure everything is neat and birthday ready before you fetch your spare pillow and blanket.

You try to not feel guilty as you start making up the couch. You know it isn’t the most comfortable and Matt will probably be sore after doing God knows what all night, but you can’t offer him your bed again. There is no reason for him to be in your bed. As frantic as you are, you don’t need any comforting.

You just need to stop thinking.

But not in that way.

“Stop,” you hiss at yourself. “Stop being a slut. Pure thoughts. Have pure thoughts.”

Scolding yourself does not work as well as you mean it to and all you can do is pour your concentration into folding and refolding the blanket. You roll it up tight first like it is a sleeping bag, then you think that is stupid, so you fold it into a triangle. You realize that is trying way too hard, so into a square it goes.

The knock at the door startles you and to your credit, you don’t scream.

You do, however, bury your face into your hands again and take a deep breath. You are panicking over nothing. Everything is just fine. You are overthinking.

You mentally chant that mantra as you go to the door. You hesitate to open it, needing the extra moment to center yourself, and you are surprised you don’t automatically close it again at the sight of Matt.

His normal daytime attire is a suit, and he wears them like a model, but you much prefer him dressed down as he is now. He’s in a t-shirt and joggers, with a five o’clock shadow and fluffed up hair, and he looks devastatingly handsome. He looks friendly and soft, but everything is just tight enough to show off how toned he is.

Your body reacts exactly like it did to the picture, but this time you can’t hide.

So, you run instead.

“Come on in,” you practically squeak out before hurrying to get out of his way. He’s got a gym bag with him - probably to carry his clothes for tomorrow - and your entryway isn’t the largest. It makes sense for you to go back to the living room.

“Busy night?” He asks as he closes and locks the door, and you are completely thrown by the question. You must make a confused noise, because he follows up with, “You are out of breath, is everything okay?”

Your heart starts to beat hard in your chest and you can feel your entire body getting hot. Of course, he can tell what is going on with your body and you are nearly in full panic mode.

You need to get to bed and away from him.

You fail at keeping your composure by gesturing around the living room, “Yeah - um - just been busy. Decorating and stuff - it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“It is,” Matt agrees, a charming and boyish smile creeping onto his lips. You tell yourself he must be excited for Minnie’s birthday and that is why he is in such a nice mood.

“How was..how was your night?”

He hums at the question, moving to set his bag down by the couch, “It was relatively quiet. With school starting up again and the heat, the younger crowd isn’t out. I made a few laps but didn’t find anything worth going after.”

“So, there isn’t like…crime every night?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it all. You haven’t actually asked what a Patrol consists of, so you don’t know what the average one is like.

“Despite what everyone thinks, no. There’s a good number of nights where I just keep things tidy, but being out helps to deter people as well. Not every night is drug busts and gang wars.”

“That is good to know.” And it is - it helps to ease your anxiety that he is out there constantly boxing people. People say New York is crime ridden, but it is not nearly as bad as it is made out to be. It is all scare tactics and sensational news - like the Satanic Panic.

Matt hums again, then tilts his head back towards where you hung the birthday banner, “That is a lot of presents.”

His smile is still bright, and you have to duck your head and bite your lip to keep your mind in check. Your mouth, as always, is quick to quip, “I’m not telling you what is in them. It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise, huh?” He teases, before kneeling down by his bag and unzipping it. You can see colorful wrapping paper peeking through, and you instantly wonder what sort of gift is inside.

“A surprise,” you repeat. “It isn’t any fun if everyone knows what is inside before it is opened.”

“I’ll concede to that, even if it is tempting to peek.” As he says this he stands up, holding three different sized packages in his hands. They aren’t as pristinely wrapped as yours, but you can tell great care went into it and you wonder if Matt did it himself.

“Foggy said they will come over around noon,” he says like you aren’t on the verge of a crisis. “And Maggie was hoping we could stop by on the way to the park. I told her it would be up to you, but I know she has a few things for Minnie. We’re probably going to need to bring that wagon you got.”

The idea of so many people coming to your apartment for a party - especially a toddler’s birthday party - boggles your mind but your heart soars that so many people want to celebrate your daughter. You watch as he goes to add the gift pile and that confusing feeling swirls in your chest again, reminding you this is everything you ever wanted for Minnie. Matt being in your life means more people to love your daughter like she deserves.

“Okay,” you say because that is all your mind can produce. When Matt begins to stand again, you go into a panic thinking he might say something to start a conversation and blurt out, “I should get ready for bed.”

He turns to you, and you don’t know what to expect, but it is not for him to look bemused. He raises his eyebrows over his glasses and lets out a huff of a laugh, “It’s a big day tomorrow. You should get your rest.” He isn’t condescending or rude about it, but you can definitely hear the hint of teasing.

Your face burns as you nod and stupidly repeat, “It’s a big day.” You clear your throat to try and regain some composure and point towards the couch, “I, uh, left you out pillows and a blanket. The..uh..remote for the fan is on the coffee table. I readded the labels after Minnie tore them off.”

“Thank you,” he says with full sincerity, and you cannot take any more of his charm and muscular biceps.

“I’m going to go to bed now,” you tell him as you start to back up towards the bedroom. You know you should tell him about the fringe covering the hallway, but you just want to flee and hide under your covers until your brain stops all of its nonsense.

“Okay.”

As you finally let yourself turn away from Matt, he says your name just loud enough for you to barely hear it. You freeze in place, but it is like your blood is boiling inside you. You breathe out his name in response.

“Good night.”

((“I love you.”))

a/n: orz please take this offering of a chapter - my brain is not working up to standard.

Also - Tomorrow is a Big Day

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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