#i felt really overwhelmed today and you know what they say...

[enwoso]

terrible twos | alessia russo x child!reader

-> based on this request🍫

grumpy masterlist

there were moments, usually around bedtime or when you fell asleep in her arms, warm and heavy and full of trust when alessia felt like she had it all together.

alessia loved being a mum. loved it in the way that took her breath away sometimes. the fierce, soft, overwhelming kind of love that wrapped itself around her whole body. nothing else compared, not even the feeling of winning a trophy.

but god, was it exhausting.

alessia was 22, playing professionally for man united, and parenting a toddler who had the energy of ten red bulls in a sparkly shoes.

there were days when you wouldn't nap, refused to eat anything but dry cereal, or decided that putting pants on was the enemy. days where alessia was running on caffeine, zero patience, and a lot of dry shampoo.

but she wouldn't change a thing. but maybe sometimes she really would like just five seconds to gather herself without hearing 'mummmy' dragged out.

and today had been one of those classic "mum while you work" days. alessia had somehow managed to juggle training, interviews, cooldowns, and chasing you away from water bottles and physio tape while keeping one eye on you and one on the pitch as what she had learned with the toddler phase was that she needed eyes in the back of her head, essentially.

the man united staff were saints, and alessia's teammates had basically adopted you as the unofficial team mascot, but still she hadn't sat down for more than five minutes all day.

as training wrapped up, alessia had gotten you into your car seat like alessia was performing brain surgery. soft voice, steady hands.

"okay, baby. time for your nap, yeah? all snug, alright?" alessia cooed, handing you your little blanket and your esme the elephant and you slowly nodded, eyes heavy.

you hadn't fought your mummy like usual when being put in your car seat. there was no screaming. no flailing. no sudden desire to perform a headstand. in alessia's mind it had felt like a miracle.

alessia shut the rear door slowly, quietly, like the click of the latch might somehow ruin everything.

alessia turned and sighed, the first real breath of the day.

ella was waiting nearby, leaning on her own car with a can of something neon in her hand. "you look like you just wrestled a bear."

"i did," alessia said, rubbing the back of her neck. "she's just so fast, el. i swear she was climbing up the physios desk at one point."

ella laughed, nodding. "sounds like our tiny,."

"and bit my boot."

"so what your sayin' is that we're well and truly into the terrible twos territory?"

"unfortunately," alessia snorted. "sometimes i feel like i'm nailing it, then realise i actually realise i've just lost all grip on reality?"

"kids are full of surprises, your killin' it less. i would ran away by now to the countryside if i was doin' everything you are, media, football, raising tiny."

"not always sunshine's is it," alessia hummed, brushing a bit of turf off her leggings. "but today, i feel... kind of okay, you know? lovie's strapped in. i survived training. i might even get a full hour of quiet in the car plus at home to tidy if the nap gods are with me."

"well look at you," ella grinned. "mum of the year."

alessia raised a brow. "don't jinx it."

they stood there for a moment, soaking in the rare peace while discussing plans for the coffee morning with a couple of the other girls. before then alessia turned to say goodbye.

that's when she saw it. her stomach and heart dropped. "wait..."

ella followed her gaze, brows furrowed. "what?"

alessia's voice sharpened as she wanted to frantically move but it was like she was rooted to the spot. "she's not in her car seat."

"what?"

alessia managed to move and opened the door.

"LOVIE?!"

there you was, standing up on the back seat, coated head to toe in protein powder. the entire back half of the car looked like someone had shaken a giant cocoa bomb inside with tiny finger and hand prints scattered across them. the tub of chocolate powder was overturned, the lid discarded, alessia's training bag gutted.

"i makin' choc'late weather!" you said proudly, grinning as you little fists flung more powder into the air like confetti.

alessia just stared, mouth wide open. unable to find the words for what she was witnessing.

ella, peeking in from the other side, nearly choked laughing. "oh my god. less. she looks like she's been rolled in nesquik."

"i left the bag back there for two minutes," alessia breathed. "two. minutes. i turned my back to say goodbye for two minutes."

you had since moved down into the footwell, holding up the scoop, "i got da scoopy thing too!" you grinned looking up, absolutely delighted.

"that's my shaker!"

"i make milkshake rain," you announced, shaking it like a maraca and releasing a fresh burst of dust across the leather seats.

alessia let her head fall forward against the side of the car. "i'm going to cry."

"you just had it cleaned, didn't you?" ella managed between hysterics.

"yesterday. i got the details done and everything, i paid extra for the nice scent." alessia groaned, her car hadn't even been that untidy, it just needed a hoover, realistically she could of probably done it herself. but instead she got it fully valeted, big mistake..

"it smells like choc'late now," you offered, as if this was a favour and that you'd helped.

alessia reached in and hoisted you out trying not to scream at the chocolate fingerprints not going all across her hoodie. "you're a nightmare at times, you know that?" alessia sighed, not the annoyed type as it was expected now.

"i'm your 'nightmare'," you sang sweetly, resting your powdery head on your mummy's shoulder.

"sure are kiddo," alessia muttered, half to herself. "i'm gonna need a new car. or a matchstick and some insurance."

ella grinned, just admiring for afar the moment. "you still feel like you've got it all under control?"

alessia sighed deeply before shaking her head. "i feel like the control got dumped in the boot and covered in protein powder."

alessia stood there for a moment, holding her absolutely unbothered, cocoa-dusted toddler against her hip, staring into the wreckage that used to be her clean car.

the back seats were filled with hand prints and thick with powder. the floor mats were covered, you wouldn't have even been able to tell they were even there. alessia's soul might've taken some damage too.

and yet, somehow, alessia found herself laughing quietly, tiredly, but genuinely. because what else could she do? this was her life. protein-stained and chaotic and weirdly sweet.

"i should be furious," alessia said.

ella smirked. "oh you probably will be. once the sugar high wears off."

you let out a huge yawn and blinked up at your mum, eyelashes clumped with chocolate dust. "i wan a snack."

"you had a snack."

"wan a new one."

alessia just closed her eyes and nodded. "of course you do."

alessia adjusted you on her hip and grabbed a spare towel from the boot, lining the car seat with it like she was prepping for a warzone.

as your mummy strapped you back in properly, this time alessia handed you a strawberry puree pouch which she usually wouldn't let you have in the car, much preferring you to have something small but at this point how much more mess could you make with a puree pouch.

as she opened it for you, you leaned forward and whispered, "next time i make strawberry snow."

alessia froze. "what strawberry snow?"

"da pink powder in your bag," you said innocently, then tapped your nose. "it a surprise."

alessia turned and looked at ella, deadpan. "you're picking us up tomorrow."

"no, definitely not," ella said, backing away with both hands raised. "i've seen what tiny is capable of. i'm not risking my seats."

alessia slammed the door gently, climbed into the front on top of a protein-covered wrapper and turned to look at you in the mirror.

"you know you're cleaning this car with me tomorrow, right?"

you grinned. "i got my own sponge!"

later on that night: 📱to tooney🩷

📸 [photo attachment: you asleep in bed, face still slightly dusty, as you hugged your esme the elephant tightly whose was a little chocolatey stained.]

less | she's finally down. the bathwater turned into hot chocolate.

less | send wine. or bleach. actually both.

[semperreformanda]

today has been hard. I know the Lord’s Day is a day of rest but it usually feels exhausting for me. constantly, it feels, trying to keep my toddler occupied, quiet, or at least not so disruptive during service. sometimes he listens, most of the time he puts up a fight and by the end of it I am just so drained. it felt especially difficult this Sunday, and I’m not putting the blame on a tiny human just trying to navigate this world, just stating the fact that…it can be hard. parenting is rewarding and beautiful and fills up your heart with incredible love that is beyond explanation, and yet is, simultaneously in a mysterious way, one of the hardest damned things you can do in the world. maybe this is a mix of many things, like tackling a few milestones, sleep issues, trying to wean, dealing with picky eating and worrying about his nutrition. a bunch of things, I guess. when it gets hard like this I get scared of being pregnant again because how would you deal with two? how do people deal with two? what does that say about me that I think like this? am I really letting myself be driven by fear based on the what-if’s? (but seriously, how do people handle a newborn and a toddler at the same time?) I just feel a lot of pressure and overwhelm, nearly to the brink of tears. maybe it’s also because last week was also very, very difficult dealing with illness in the house. (when the toddler is sick, I get anxiety because I pretty much get very little sleep, and very little freedom to do what needs to get done since he would only nap when held. and he’d be so uncomfortable that he’d be whining or crying 90% of the time. genuinely thought I mightve needed some ear plugs to keep my ears from ringing from all the shrieking). anyway thank God that’s over with now, but maybe today he was just overtired. I might be too—hence all this. sorry & thanks for reading. 🥲

[rmieve]

I feel distant

Lately, I feel distant—from myself, my surroundings, my responsibilities, and my morals. It feels as though I don't belong here, in my place. It doesn't feel right. I have these recurring dreams.

Dreams about places where I see myself sitting on grass, rolling down hills, jumping around sprinklers, dancing in the rain, watching sunsets, collecting wildflowers, tending my garden, and sitting under a tree reading with my best friend.

Dreams about working as an English professor at a quintessential university, surrounded by academics, students, and literature.

Dreams about coming home to my beloved, watching him make dinner while I sit and stare in adoration with a glass of wine in hand, holding each other while dancing under dimmed lights to some jazz, acknowledging not having any idea of what we're doing but laughing about it because we are having fun.

Dreams about having a family, promising and assuring them every day that I love them, and that life is nothing without them.

Dreams about having a life of my own, free of the push and pull, free of living up to someone’s expectations, free of the feeling of not being good enough, of being left out, of loneliness, of the constant reminders that no one understands me or cares about my opinions. Free of being treated as a 19-year-old infant who cannot hold her neck up. A life where my dreams are just mine.

But lately, I feel distant—from my dreams. The fear creeps in like poison ivy covering the walls of abandoned dwellings. The fear of watching them fade into this hellhole of a life.

by Willow

[ropes3amthoughts]

Fun fact did you guys know that in canon Kabru is shown shirtless 3 times

If you guys know of any more instances of Kabru with no shirt on feel free to correct me to make my fact factually correct y’know? Feel free to send me any other instances of Kabru with no shirt on for my data this is my important data y’know? Please guys sned me Kabru with no shirt on this is an emergency and for the sake of science. Ascientific emergency if you will. Guys please help me in my sceifnricc endeavors. My research. Guys. My scientific paper is due in 3 and I need Kabru with no shirt on. Guys please I need it for my totally real and legit history article. I need shirtless Kabru images for my English resume. Kabru’s exposed shoulders are necessary for my grade in calculus guys

Ok I can’t think of any more jokes I am just going to be serious and say I love Kabru because those are my genuine earnest feelings I love him so so so so much he is my sweet dove scrimblo bbb (babyboy) <333333333333333333 I feel like a cartoon character with hearts for eyes I am swooning I love him so insanely much he is my dearest guy ever muah muah muah <3333333333333 I would open a pickle jar for him and like he could totally open those by himself but I think he should get to sit around and not worry his pretty little head bc like I could totally fuck up those pickle jars and then he could just chill like I’m actually pretty good at opening jars you guys that’s a fun fact about me I’m cool like that and I could be so cool and good to Kabru I would be like “I love you” and stuff you know all lovingly Kabruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I love him so much like just imagine a scrawny guy fanning their face and sighing dreamily because that’s me right now about Kabru god he’s so lovely I love himmmmmmmm <33333333333 he makes me smile and makes my heart flutter and stuff teeheehee I love Kabru I feel like a burning in my chest and I keep biting my teeth I feel like I’m going to explode I’m going insane Kabruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu agghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh slobbers everywhere and starts bawling my eyes out and falls over and splats on the ground with a loud thud and does fifteen summersaults and pulls my hair out and kicks my legs oughhhjh Kabru <33333333 I feel so much for him and I don’t even know what to say to exes it properly he is like a leaf in the wind that falls on your head when you’re walking and you become so inexplicably charmed by it and feel as if nature is giving you a gentle kiss and you just feel so loved he’s like a mug of hot chocolate on a chilly day and there’s also a fuzzy blanket and comfortable pajamas that’s him to me I love him I love him I love him so bad you guys he’s so dear to me I LOBE KABRU I feel so passionate about him right now and to cope with this I just watched that one animatic like 20 times in a row and now I’m going to read a fanfic where he eats a yummy meal he���s like a sweet summer’s day to me Kabruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

[giogiobb]

Tease pt.1

Nerd!Armin x Reader

tags: teasing, drinking, tongue piercing (obviously), semi-public sex, oral fixation, cunnilingus, edging, breath play, overstimulation, gagging, mirror play, biting, mild pain play, smut

inspired by fanart from: @musapylsa

→ pt.2

You were called by your lecturer to wait along with Armin. “Yes, professor?” you said while impatiently waiting to leave class. “Your last assignment was lacking. So, I’m assigning Armin here to tutor you for a few weeks” he said while looking through some papers. You looked over at Armin who was looking at the lecturer absent-mindedly. “Is that okay with you Armin?” the lecturer asked looking up from the papers. “Yes, all good with me.” he piqued while nodding. You didn't have it in you to ask whether that was really necessary. “Alright, thank you professor. Have a good day” you said wanting to hurriedly leave. You walked out of the class not waiting to hear a response because you didn't have any interest in doing the tutoring lessons.

However, Armin on the other hand took any tutoring requests seriously. “Hey, wait up.” he lightly jogged towards you to catch up with you. “Listen Armin, I know you’re a teacher's pet or whatever but I don’t need tutoring lessons so I have to go now.” You said annoyedly. “Yeah well it’s not convenient for me either but I have to do it or else he will question my capability if he sees that your grades are still bad.” He said bluntly. You stared at him blankly, mouth ajar in shock because you didn’t expect him to be so straightforward. You always considered him to be a pushover because of how he looked. “Okay fine, let’s go to the library now if so. I have somewhere to be tonight.” He nodded and began following you to the library.

You sat across him at the table, legs crossed and bouncing under the table. You were bored out of your mind and your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing but he already gave you an annoyed look because of it so you took it off the table and kept it in your bag. Instead of looking at the words written on his book, you kept glancing towards his hand moving on it. He has really beautiful hands, you wondered and your mind wandered to what he can do with it. He then slammed his hand on the book to get your attention which pulled you out of your trance making you look up at him. “Are you even paying attention?” He said with a hint of sternness which you wouldn’t have caught if he didn’t have your full attention. “Um, yeah of course. Why would you think I’m not paying attention?” You said while giving a half hearted chuckle. He just gave you a light glare and continued on with the tutoring. You sat there intrigued by this side of him which you didn’t know existed. Heck, you even felt a bit attracted and wanted to know him more because of it. While teaching, he stretched his leg towards you brushing past your ankle. He looked up from the book to see you squirm a bit with a soft blush spread across your cheeks. He knew you were staring at his hands and he wanted to mess with you a bit more but thought it would be too mean to do so on the first day itself 

After an hour, Armin decided to wrap up because he didn’t want to overwhelm you with the content by teaching everything on the same day. “I’ll be leaving now. See you tomorrow. Same time, same place.” He said while packing up. You didn’t even realize an hour went by. “Oh, uh sure yeah. See you tomorrow.” When he walked away you kept staring at his back. Though he wasn’t the tallest, you also didn’t realize that he had kind of a lean build under the baggy t-shirts that he wear.

-

Next day you meet him at the same time, same place wearing quite a raunchy outfit you’d say. After all, you were going clubbing after this with some of your girlfriends. He glanced you up and down before pulling out and patting on the chair next to him today. You walked over and sat on it feeling a bit proud that you made a nerd like him check you out since you have never seen him talk to any girls before. You pulled the chair closer towards him and the table to settle in. “Shall we begin?” You asked him innocently with a smile on your lips. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses further on his nose bridge and nodded.

Almost half an hour into the tutoring, you started to feel bored from just looking at how his hands moved on the book with the pencil and how his adam's apple moved up and down as he kept teaching you the content. On the other hand, Armin also kept stealing glances at your chest that were slightly spilling out from your V neck top. He snapped out from both tutoring and taking looks when he felt your warm thigh press against his from the side. You moved closer towards him, both your arms slightly brushing against each other. Armin didn’t like this teasing as much as you thought he would. Solely for the reason that it wouldn’t be right to lean over to kiss and ruin you for trying to push him over the edge. He gripped the pencil even more, knuckles turning white. He continued teaching while she stared at the book. He moved towards your neck, ever so slightly just to make you feel his hot breath on your neck as he spoke. You felt yourself squirming and becoming breathless with unholy ideas running through your mind. You couldn’t take it anymore and moved your chair a bit away from him. You couldn’t risk ruining your black lace panties before the night even began.

Time passed slower than yesterday and he wrapped up. “Any plans for tonight?” You asked him curiously. “No, you?” He answered a bit surprised that you wondered about his personal life. “Yeah, I’m going to a club with some friends” You answered as you watched him pack up. “Enjoy if so. I’ll text you next week about tutoring. Goodnight.” He answered and walked away not waiting for your reply since you both exchanged numbers yesterday at the beginning of the tutoring session. You watched him walk away but was snapped out of it when you felt your phone buzz. When you moved towards the table to look at your phone screen, Armin stopped walking and turned his head a bit to take one more glance at your bare legs as you wore a mini jean skirt only. He left with a head full of dirty thoughts.

As he walked towards his dorm room, Eren stopped him just to drag him to a club. Armin has said no enough times but lost a bet the last time they hung out so he had no choice but to go with Eren after dropping his bag off in his room. 

-

You entered the club lit in a purple hue of lights with white lights brightly flashing in different spots. You head to the bar and wait while your most confident friend chatted up some guy named Jean and got him to buy you all some drinks. While you were enjoying the drinks and dancing around, at the corner of your eye you spotted a certain blonde in the same green shirt you saw him in earlier. You thought to yourself that you might or might not be mistaken so you decide to follow the blonde you saw. He stood near a round high table with a goth girl and a frat boy clinking drinks. You watched as he downed the shot with ease and felt the burn of it in his throat reflecting on his face. He then turned around and you were right, it was Armin.

You felt quite shocked and a bit betrayed if you were being honest. Because the good boy image of him that you had in your head wasn’t somewhat true, but it also made you want to approach him. Yet for some reason, now that you find him attractive you felt awfully nervous. You turned around towards where your friends were and began walking away, until you felt a hand grab your wrist. You quickly turned around just to see Armin holding your wrist with his cheeks flushed pink.

He led you to the side a bit away from the crowd and leaned towards your ear to say “Can I kiss you?”. He caught you off guard and before you could register what he said, you felt your head nod. He leaned towards your face and began slowly pecking while holding your waist. Your hands roamed on his body and gripped his shirt to pull him closer. He felt the urge to deepen the kiss so he grabbed you by the back of your throat and tilted his head to the side so that his glasses won’t dig into your cheeks too much. You took a deep breath and began kissing him back deeply while your hand planted onto his hair pushing him closer. You felt his tongue swipe on your lips indicating you to open your mouth, and when you did his tongue began roaming your mouth like it was inspecting the inside.

Suddenly, you felt a warm metal in your mouth and you pulled away wondering what it was. Armin felt your body stiffen up as you pulled away and he knew exactly what it was. He knew that you felt his tongue piercing which was a surprise to you. Before he went in for another, he took one of your hands 2 fingers to make you swipe on his tongue to make you feel his piercing after he stuck his tongue out to show it. Your eyes widened because you didn't expect him to have such a provocative piercing. You moved your hand to the side of his face to grab it towards you to go for another kiss. This time you felt confident and he felt impatient to feel your lips again.

Both of you kissed for what felt like hours before you started dragging him to an out of order washroom. It hasn’t been in use for months because of a shattered mirror so it was convenient.

You entered with him and locked the door before heading towards the countertops. You started leaving kisses and hickeys on his neck while your hand roamed on his body under the shirt inching towards his growing bulge. He let out soft whimpers and moans while breathing heavily and gripping the edge of the countertops. You palmed his bulge over his jeans just to tease him, making him buck his hips up towards your palm. You let out a quiet giggle seeing his reaction and he knew you’d be just teasing him for way too long if he let you.

So he moved his hand towards the hem of your skirt and lifted it up revealing your lacy panties. The thought of you wearing it earlier to the tutoring lesson when you both teased each other made him feral. He moved his fingers to your heat over the panties making you bite your lips and breathe towards his neck. He felt himself lean towards your hot breath as he rubbed slow circles on your clit. You wanted to release so bad at this point you couldn’t be bothered to palm his bulge. Instead your hand reached towards his wrist to keep it still as you humped his hand.

To your dismay, he moved his hand away and made you lean on the countertop instead. He reached to your top to pull it down to your waist leaving your matching bra on. He grabbed one of your boobs while he left kisses and nibbles on the other leaving your nipple alone just to edge you. He moved one of his legs in between yours making you straddle it leaving you on your tip toes. Your heat was now on his thigh making you move your hips involuntarily. He kept pushing his leg towards you just to apply pressure. You felt your eyes roll back as you rode his thigh trying to catch your release, but as soon as you got close he moved his leg away making you whine.

He unclipped your bra from the back and circled your nipple with his tongue. The feel of his tongue piercing cold on your nipples made it even harder than before. After doing so for a bit, he began squatting down, leaving soft nibbles and feeling all your curves with the same hands that you were dreaming about since yesterday. His face finally reached your heat and he looked up at you while hiking your skirt up. He then gripped your panties from the sides to pull them down and off your legs just to stuff it in his pocket. You felt a bit shy now that you were bare and more naked than him. However, all that embarrassed thoughts went out the window when he began licking your clit with his tongue and caressing your folds with his fingers. You let out a moan feeling the touch you have been edged for too long. “So wet. Just for me.” He slightly smirked against your folds as he whispered just enough for you to hear. You felt your cheeks heat up more than you thought were possible when you heard. Not a minute later, he began eating you out as if it’s the first meal he’s having today. Your hand gripped his hair pulling his face towards your heat just to ride it. The way his cold tongue piercing kept hitting different areas of your heat made you lose your mind. Not too long after that, you felt yourself reach your first climax which washed over you making you feel so much pent up relief, but as you were catching your breath, Armin had other thoughts than to let you rest.

He felt your folds even wetter than before and plunged a finger deep in you making you pull his hair a bit harder than you wanted to. The thing about him though is that he loves and can handle pain very well. One reason why he has the piercing that he has. He added 1 more finger and began fucking you at a fast pace making you overstimulated. He stood up while still having his fingers in you and began kissing you while resting his other hand on your throat with a light pressure at the right spots. You felt yourself having a hard time to breathe because of it along with the pleasure he was giving you. He moved his lips away from yours and began leaving hickeys on very visible areas but you were seeing stars at this point so you could care less. You felt another climax approach soon and he knew as he felt you clench around his fingers. He helped you ride out your high while fucking you with his fingers leaving your heat pulsating.

He looked deep in your eyes as flashed his tongue just to lick his fingers that were dripping in your wetness. He licked them suggestively enough to make sure your breath hitched as you watched. You instinctively stuck your tongue out wanting him to do the same and worse to you. He took this as a sign to do the same and gripped the back of your throat before putting the same fingers deep in your mouth reaching your throat. It made you gag and have teary eyes but it burned so good as he moved. You swirled your tongue around his fingers tasting you and himself. It felt dirty but in the best way possible. He took his fingers out with a pop before unbuckling his pants to give himself a few pumps.

He held your arm and turned you around to make you face the mirror that was behind you the whole time. You faced the mirror and watched him from the mirror as he began lining his cock towards your entrance. He gave a few teasing nudges with his tip right before he sank fully into you. To your surprise, for a nerdy guy, he sure was packing. You felt yourself stretch around him which hurt so much.

After all, you have never had sex before despite how you presented yourself. You felt your eyes tear up and he noticed it in the mirror. He began hushing you as he slowly moved hoping it would soothe the pain. After taking a hot minute to adjust yourself to his length, you lifted your head up with hands on the countertop holding onto dear life to make eye contact with him from the mirror. His glasses were starting to now fog up ever so slightly making him look even more mysterious than usual. He held your hips and began fucking you fastening the pace. Your head dropped once again, but this time, he held your jaw and forced you to look towards the mirror so you could make eye contact with him. “Watch while I fuck you.” He lowly said into your ear and moved away after licking a stripe on your ear making you shiver. He began fucking you faster while gripping your hips enough to bruise them. Every now and then he would also give your round butt a squeeze making you moan and squirm.

As he kept fucking you, you became louder which could be risky because anybody could hear. He reached into his pocket and fished out your panties that he put in earlier. He grabbed it out and stuffed them into your mouth catching you off guard. He then grabbed both your wrists with one hand and your hair with the other. He pinned your wrists to your back while he pulled you by your hair towards his chest. He then moved it to your jaw holding your face in place while he fucked you deep with hard thrusts making his tip kiss the cervix in a way you didn’t think was possible. Your mouth was salivating so much to the point that there was spit leaking from the sides because of the way your panties were gagging you. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear making you all hot and bothered even more because of his breath as he fucked you.

He pulled out and reached for the panties in your mouth taking it out. It made you cough a bit before you began catching all the breath you lost. He then flipped you towards him and made you sit on the countertop between the two mirrors. When your butt touched the cold marble countertop, you felt so sensitive. You reached towards his shirt and tugged it upwards making him remove it. You admired his flushed body that was glistening in a thin layer of sweat. He threw the shirt next to you and went in for a kiss as he entered in you again.

This time he focused on getting himself off. So he gripped your waist and began grinding into you desperately. His pubic bone kept pleasuring your clit because of the position making you leave scratches on his back shoulders. This had him moaning and whimpering while yearning for release. He kept fucking you for a good while before he finally felt himself spasm indicating climax. You felt his thrusts become sloppier and held him closer wanting him to finish in you, and he gladly did groaning into your ear. While he kept cumming in you, he rubbed circles on your clit pushing you over the edge and making you cum for the third time that night. He had you biting his shoulder blade to mask the loud moan as he hugged you while you rode out your release while shaking.

You stopped biting and looked at him trying to find his eyes, but because of his fogged up glasses you couldn’t. So you reached towards it and pushed it up to his hair before locking eyes giving one final deep kiss for the night. Afterwards only you realised what you both had done and it left you dreading for the next tutoring lesson. While Armin on the other hand knew exactly what you both had done and couldn’t wait for the next tutoring lesson.

hope you guys enjoyed this.♡ྀི

word count: roughly 3400 words

a/n: lmk if you guys want a 2nd part cause i might have an idea on how to write one more part. :3

[pucksandpower]

Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

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

Based on this request

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

Happy birthday indeed.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

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

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

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

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

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

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

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

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N,

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

Love,

Charles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”

As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.

“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”

Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”

You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”

“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”

You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”

As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.

You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.

And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

***

The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.

He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.

A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.

You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.

Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.

“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.

Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.

Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”

You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”

“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”

You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”

Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.

A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.

An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.

“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”

Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”

Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”

The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”

Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”

“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”

Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”

“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”

Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”

“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”

Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”

As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.

“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”

You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”

“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”

You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”

You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”

“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”

A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”

Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”

You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”

Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”

Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”

As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”

You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”

As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.

Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.

He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.

It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.

***

The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.

Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.

Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”

On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”

“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”

Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”

Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”

Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”

Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”

“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”

The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.

And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.

“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.

Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”

The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.

Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.

Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”

Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.

Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.

“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”

“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.

As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.

“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”

You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”

“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”

Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”

Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”

As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”

“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”

Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”

“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”

“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”

As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”

Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.

“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”

Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”

Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.

You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.

Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”

Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.

You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”

As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.

The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

[lizardho]

I took a human development class at BYU. It was a good class. The guy who taught it did a great job with it, he was passionate, he was curious, he was kind, and to top it all off he was a fabulous Mormon. I had to sign up for his class the night it opened and I only barely made it into his lecture it filled so fast. I cannot for the life of me remember his name, but I remember how he challenged the class in some peculiar ways.

A funny experience of challenging the class was when we had our lecture on conception and development in utero. He taps the microphone like a comedian who just bombed a set, asks if we can hear him, get’s a resounding and excited “yes!” and says “Ok! Ok! Y’all sounds excited! Let’s do a chant, see if that helps with some of the other energy. Are you ready?”

Of course everyone cheers yes, we’re Mormon, being in a room of people saying the same shit over and over is our jam. So he nods, gets a beat going by clapping, and starts chanting the word “sex” into the microphone. The claps die. The chant doesn’t start. But he keeps going, and going, until he gets half the class chanting with him by brutal shameless persistence. Then he changes the word. “Vagina!” And resumes until he has half the class. Then “clitoris!” then “penis!” then finally when he has half the room chanting he stops the chant and says “I only ever go until I can get half of y’all chanting because this is BYU and I’d be here all day if I waited for everyone to be comfortable even saying the word “sex” out loud which is INSANE because today we’re talking about how life begins and I guarantee you almost every woman who flinched away from chanting “penis” wants to have kids and most of the men who couldn’t pronounce clitoris want to have at least two kids and that does not work out in my head! We need to get over this fear to talk about conception openly.” He talked about sex as a biological phenomenon and as a fun thing to do sometimes and it was a transformative experience for me, and it was very funny as an opener.

He challenged us academically too, though. He assigned us the task of observing children at the campus daycare and told us he wanted to know who we had observed just by our behavioral observations. He meant it, too. He didn’t want us to just know about kids he wanted us to be able to see kids as distinct people and that was amazing. He pushed us out of the mindset of “how do I pass this assignment” and challenged us to internalize “how do I learn to do this in real life?” and he pushed us to observe children as people and not as science experiments or obedient joyful output machines.

Another way he challenged the class, and this one sticks with me tbh, is he told us stories. His technique is one I often utilize as a therapist. He tells a story that’s related *enough* to keep you aware of how your question or need is related, but just unrelated enough distract you from the question so when he brings it back to you it hits as an experience instead of a verbal response to an inquiry. He did this sometimes in response to questions from students and it was always an interesting way to experience learning. One day a student, a worried newlywed man who JUST found out his wife was pregnant, asked what he could do to help her because he felt so excited and overwhelmed he couldn’t think clearly. And the professor stops the lecture and thinks about it, like, REALLY thinks about it, and he leads into his story - it starts with a brief discussion on the complexity and uniqueness of fingerprints. Then he tells us about how one of his graduate students a few years back came into his office complaining that his wife was getting lazier. Him, being a therapist and a curious man by nature, asked the student what he meant. The student responds by saying that he felt “duped” by his wife because she’d been energetic and motivated and passionate and attentive until she got pregnant and now she “doesn’t do anything” and “has no ambition” and “doesn’t even cook dinner anymore” and “always says she’s tired even though she hasn’t DONE anything” and how he felt like it was all an act to pretend to be a good wife until she got pregnant and had him hooked forever.

And this guy is reacting to this in real time - he goes point by point through this graduate student’s complaints and nods patiently, curiously, then sinisterly as he understands the situation. He tells the grad students to come a little closer so he can show him something in a book, then whaps him upside the head with the book.

The grad student of course reacts with shock and anger and demands a justification for being whacked with a book and the professor responds with “how far into the pregnancy is your lazy lazy wife?” The grad student gives a response to he opens the book and slaps it on the desk and says “at that point in pregnancy your child’s fingerprints are developing. Do you know how complex and detailed fingerprints are? Do you know how much time and energy it would take to make that from nothing? That is what your wife is doing all day. She’s making your child’s fingerprints. Get that in your head and get over yourself.”

He then stops the story, looks at the guy who asked the question, and asks how far along his wife is? And the student responds, and he says “if you go home today and your wife is tired, it’s because she was growing functional kidneys for another human being all day. So tell her you’ll do the dishes, and don’t whine about it. And remember that any time you’re doing any chore or task you’re not accustomed to for the next few months, any time you’re eating an uninspired dinner, any time you’re rubbing her feet or helping her get to sleep and thinking “oh geez she’s so dramatic” remember she is growing another person and ask yourself if your dinner or unfolded socks are more valuable than a functioning kidney or a distinct fingerprint because I guarantee you it is not. She is engaged in the act of creation, fold your own socks.”

Y’all I mean the fucking CRICKETS in that room. My ears were ringing from the revelation he had just unleashed into my brain. There was not a single body in that room that was not GRIPPED by the response to this question. And I fully recognize that he was asking for fairly little, like, yeah, you should be an involved parent and partner because “for time and all eternity” means “even when she won’t have sex with me,” but he was saying it as a Mormon man talking to another Mormon man and that was so exciting and new to me that it stuck with me. I remember this story in a myriad of ways - it’s a good example of using privilege to challenge privilege, for example. It’s a good example of “lifting where you stand,” so to speak, by making a difference where you are instead of making a hypothetical “bigger” difference elsewhere. It helps me remind myself that neutrality is progress, too, and that the best time to do something I should have always been doing is now. It also helps me be patient with myself when I am sick - healing is work, recovering is work, resting is work, even if the demanding husband in my head can’t see it yet.

If y’all are struggling to get better and feel your frustration building as each possibility of action passes you by while you’re stuck healing, you can ask yourself if making an amazing dinner is more important than having a healthy body, then eat your “guilty”/“easy”/“uninspired” Mac n cheese or delivery pizza or peanut butter and jelly sandwich because it’s not. If you find yourself struggling because your body is not behaving like a successful experiment or an obedient joyful output machine, try seeing yourself as a full person and not an assignment you’re failing. And if you’re embarrassed about sex, chant “penis” over and over again or something. The metaphor’s falling apart, so I’ll end with my typical advice: Be gayer, be good to each other, read more Terry Pratchett, and treat people as people.

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | forgetting their birthday

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @holycastles) : pretending to forget their birthday but actually having a huge surprise for them planned

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 3719

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : god FORBID you forget one of their birthdays... i fear everyone but verstappen and piastri might overreact a tEEEEENY bit...

ʚ・max verstappen

you knew max didn’t love big birthday celebrations. he wasn’t exactly the cake and balloons type. but still, he deserved something special. and if you had to fake forgetting the day just to throw him off? so be it.

it started that morning. he came into the kitchen, hair sticking up on one side, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. you were already at the stove, flipping pancakes like it was any other tuesday.

“morning,” he mumbled.

you glanced back over your shoulder. “morning.”

that was it. no ‘happy birthday.’ no mention of it at all.

you saw the subtle twitch of confusion in his brows, but he didn’t say anything. just grabbed a mug and poured himself some coffee.

you didn’t feel bad. okay, you felt a little bad. but it would be worth it.

by the time afternoon rolled around, max was quieter than usual. he’d disappeared into the simulator room for a couple hours, re-emerging only to plop onto the couch and scroll aimlessly on his phone.

“everything okay?” you asked, settling beside him.

he shrugged. “yeah. just… thought today might feel different.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder. “tuesdays are weird like that.”

he didn’t answer.

but when you stood up a bit later and said, “i’m just running out to grab some groceries, be back in an hour,” and kissed the top of his head, he nodded, not suspecting a thing.

what he didn’t know was that the "groceries" were actually a mad dash to finalize the surprise party you’d been planning for weeks. all his closest friends were already at the venue. there were red bull-themed decorations, his favorite food, drinks, and even a mini go-kart course set up just for him.

when you texted him an hour later, “hey, can you come meet me at this address? i need help carrying stuff,” he didn’t hesitate.

he pulled into the lot, looking around curiously. then walked inside.

and everyone yelled, “surprise!”

max blinked. for a second, you saw that classic verstappen processing face, the one he made when someone overtook him unexpectedly. then he turned to you.

“you little liar,” he said, breaking into a grin.

you shrugged. “thought tuesdays were weird like that.”

he pulled you into a hug so tight your feet almost left the ground.

“i really thought you forgot,” he murmured into your hair. “i was trying not to be upset.”

“i know,” you said, pulling back to smile up at him. “that’s how i knew it would work.”

max kissed you, soft and slow and a little overwhelmed.

“simply lovely,” he whispered.

and it was.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you figured lewis wouldn’t throw a fit if you forgot his birthday. he wasn’t that type. but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt him.

and that’s what made the plan a little risky.

the morning of, you played it cool. real cool. too cool.

“morning,” you said, breezing past him in the kitchen as he fed roscoe.

he looked up with a sleepy smile. “morning, love.”

you kissed his cheek, grabbed a banana, and scrolled through your phone. no ‘happy birthday.’ no card. not even a cheeky joke.

you saw the faint change in his expression. his smile dipped, just slightly. like he wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to be disappointed.

but he didn’t say anything. just nodded and went back to scratching roscoe behind the ears.

you left the house an hour later, saying you had errands to run. lewis stayed behind, probably expecting you’d come back with cake or something. but you didn’t. at least, not right away.

the rest of the day, he barely said a word. he worked out, took roscoe for a walk, sat out on the balcony with a tea. every now and then he checked his phone, like he was expecting someone, maybe you, to send a text. a call. anything.

nothing came.

you got home just before sunset, acting casual as ever. “you hungry? i was thinking we could order thai tonight.”

lewis looked at you, finally speaking after what felt like hours. “you didn’t… have anything else planned today?”

you tilted your head. “should i have?”

that hurt flickered in his eyes. he hid it well. but you noticed it, because you always noticed him.

he nodded slowly. “nah. just wondering.”

you stepped closer, and before he could pull further into himself, you said, “actually… yeah. i do have something planned. but i need you to come with me.”

he raised an eyebrow.

you handed him a hoodie. “put this on. we’ve got somewhere to be.”

the drive was quiet, but you saw the gears turning in his head. he was curious now. hopeful, maybe.

when you pulled up to the small venue you’d rented for the night, he looked confused.

until he walked inside.

there was soft music playing. his closest friends, family, and team were all there. dim lights, candles, vegan food lined up buffet-style, and roscoe’s favorite treats in little bowls around the room.

photos of lewis through the years played on a loop on a big screen. gp wins. childhood go-karts. that time he dressed up as batman for halloween. all of it.

he turned to you, eyes wide.

“you didn’t forget?”

you shook your head, stepping closer, arms wrapping around his waist. “how could i forget? you just had to let me lie a little first.”

he pulled you close, forehead pressing to yours, that quiet smile finally breaking through.

“you got me,” he whispered.

“i always do.”

lewis kissed you like he’d been holding his breath all day. and maybe he had.

later that night, after the crowd thinned and it was just the two of you swaying in the soft light, he said it again.

“i really thought you forgot.”

“i know,” you murmured. “and i’m sorry for letting you think that.”

he looked at you for a long moment, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“this… this was perfect.”

and you could tell he meant it.

ʚ・george russell

you knew george would make a thing out of it.

the man had a flair for dramatics. you loved that about him. but it also meant pretending to forget his birthday was going to be a test of your own acting skills.

you woke up early on purpose, slipped out of bed before he opened his eyes, and left a post-it on the mirror that said, “went out to run errands, be back later x.”

no ‘happy birthday.’ no breakfast in bed. not even a cheeky wink.

the silence from your end was deafening.

by the time you returned home mid-afternoon, george was sitting on the couch like a man freshly betrayed. wrapped in a blanket, arms crossed, tv playing some mindless nature documentary that he was definitely not watching.

you dropped your keys on the counter and glanced over. “hey. everything alright?”

he didn’t move. “oh, splendid. never better. just enjoying the slow decay of time.”

you bit your cheek to stop from laughing. “cool. i got almond milk, by the way.”

“oh, fantastic. we can toast to that instead of, i don’t know, birthdays or being alive another year.”

you blinked. “was it someone’s birthday today?”

he whipped his head around, lips parting like you’d slapped him.

“i cannot believe this,” he said, standing up and letting the blanket fall like a cape. “you’ve forgotten. i’m going to spiral. i’m going to become a menace to society. this is your villain origin story.”

“i think you’ll survive,” you said, barely holding it together.

he threw a hand to his forehead. “i wore the nice socks today. the ones with the tiny stars on them. i thought we’d at least go out.”

you walked over to him, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. “get dressed, drama queen. we’ve got somewhere to be.”

george paused. “wait. what?”

“no more questions. just put on something that won’t wrinkle when you sit down.”

still confused but too intrigued to argue, he changed into something sharp, because of course he did, and let you drag him into the car.

you drove for about twenty minutes before pulling into a private racetrack on the outskirts of town. george stared.

“you didn’t.”

“oh, i did.”

there was a single vintage aston martin waiting on the tarmac. helmet. keys. and a sign that read “happy birthday, t-pose king.”

he looked at you with the most ridiculous expression of glee and disbelief. “you made me think you forgot. you let me sit there in existential crisis mode, wrapped in fleece, contemplating my place in the universe.”

you nodded, smirking. “and now you get to race a car that costs more than both our kidneys combined. so… you're welcome?”

george burst out laughing. “this is evil. i love it.”

he pulled you into a hug, rocking you side to side like a goof. “you are insufferable. i was actually about to text my mum.”

“and say what?”

“that you were a monster. but now i take it all back.”

you handed him the keys and grinned. “happy birthday, george.”

he kissed your forehead and gave you the most dramatic bow he could manage. “best gift ever. even if you did emotionally traumatize me first.”

“adds character.”

and with that, he took off toward the car, already shouting something about lap times and not crashing it.

you just shook your head and laughed.

he’d never let you live it down — and honestly, you didn’t mind one bit.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos wasn’t the type to make a fuss.

he didn’t expect fireworks or a giant party. but a little something? a kiss, a card, maybe even just a soft “happy birthday, amor” in the morning? that didn’t seem like too much.

so when he woke up to an empty apartment and a quiet kitchen, he frowned.

you were already gone. no message, no balloons, no surprise breakfast. just a sticky note near the coffee machine that said “be back later <3.”

that was it?

at first, he tried to reason with himself. maybe you were planning something. maybe he was overthinking. he went through his normal routine — showered, made coffee, and replied to dozens of “happy birthday” texts from friends and family.

but with every hour that passed and nothing came from you, the more that quiet little sting in his chest grew.

you didn’t call. you didn’t text anything special. just a casual “need anything from the store?” and a “don’t forget to hydrate.”

hydrate? on his birthday?

carlos wasn’t mad. not exactly. just… disappointed. the kind that sat heavy in his chest and made everything feel a little dull.

by the time you got home that evening, he was sunk into the couch, arms folded and mouth pulled into that very specific pout he swore wasn’t a pout.

you walked in like everything was normal, bags in hand, smile in place. “hey. you okay?”

he didn’t look at you. “fine.”

he was not fine.

you sat beside him, and he barely shifted. “you sure?”

he shrugged, voice low. “i just thought maybe today would be a little different.”

and there it was. not angry. just honest. soft, but it hit you like a punch.

“i didn’t forget,” you said gently.

he turned his head, eyes meeting yours. he didn’t say anything, but his expression asked all the questions he couldn’t put into words.

“come with me,” you said, standing up. “just trust me.”

carlos followed. quiet, still wearing that guarded expression, like he didn’t want to hope just yet. like hoping would make it worse if he was wrong.

you drove for a while, and he didn’t ask where. he just stared out the window, wondering if he had overreacted. maybe he had. maybe he hadn’t. but it still kind of hurt.

and then you pulled up to the beach.

he recognized it immediately — the quiet spot just outside the city. no tourists, no noise, just the waves and a little stretch of sand. it was the place he told you once reminded him of summer nights in mallorca.

when he stepped out and saw the setup, he froze.

there were candles tucked into the sand. a low table, set for two, his favorite food already waiting. soft string lights swaying in the breeze. a bottle of wine. a tiny chocolate cake with “feliz cumple, mi campeón” written on top.

his chest actually ached a little.

you stepped beside him. “i wanted it to be private. just us. i thought you’d like that.”

carlos stared at you, overwhelmed in that quiet way only he could be. he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head with a small laugh.

“you really let me sulk all day.”

“i didn’t think you’d get that sad.”

“i had a full sadness, cariño,” he said, grinning now. “i almost went for a drive just to feel something.”

you laughed and leaned into him, arms slipping around his waist. “happy birthday, carlos.”

he kissed your forehead, arms wrapping tightly around you. the kind of hug that said thank you and i missed you and you know me better than i know myself.

“don’t think i didn’t notice the silence,” he whispered. “you were evil for that.”

“but you love me.”

he rested his chin on your head. “unfortunately for me,” he said, smiling, “yes. i really do.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

you didn’t mean to emotionally destroy charles. but, to be fair, you also kind of did.

because pretending to forget his birthday seemed like a harmless little prank. he was dramatic anyway. he overreacted if the grocery store ran out of his favorite chocolate mousse. he once said “this is betrayal” because you changed the netflix profile photo without telling him.

so yeah, forgetting his birthday?

he would be insufferable. but it would be hilarious.

and it was.

it all started when you woke up and kissed his cheek, said “don’t forget to take out the recycling,” and walked away. no “happy birthday.” no breakfast in bed. no gift.

charles blinked at the ceiling for a full five minutes like he was processing a national tragedy.

by mid-morning, he was fully spiraling. you ignored his very obvious attempts to fish for attention — him humming happy birthday under his breath, sighing deeply while scrolling through birthday messages, and dramatically opening and closing drawers just to see if you’d hidden something.

nothing.

at noon, he facetimed arthur and told him, loudly, “yes, it’s been a very lonely birthday, merci.”

you were in the other room.

by the time 4 p.m. hit, he was flopped across the bed like a man who had lost everything. face down. motionless.

you peeked in. “charles? you good?”

he didn’t lift his head. “i have been disrespected.”

you laughed. “come on. you’re being dramatic.”

“i am a monegasque man. i feel things.”

you rolled your eyes, fighting a smile. “put on something nice.”

he finally lifted his head. “why?”

“just do it. i’m taking you out.”

he narrowed his eyes. “out where?”

you shrugged. “it’s a surprise.”

he sighed, loud and exaggerated, but he got up. grumbling. mumbling something about emotional wounds. but he followed you anyway.

you drove up the hillside to one of his favorite spots overlooking monaco. he liked it because it was quiet. and because the view reminded him of home in a way that didn’t involve flashing cameras or team meetings.

when he got out of the car and saw the little table set up, the candles flickering, the box of pastries from his favorite bakery, and the tiny red-and-white checkered flag stuck in the cake… he froze.

“you didn’t forget?”

you grinned. “of course i didn’t forget.”

his mouth fell open like you’d told him you were actually a secret agent. he turned around in a slow, dramatic circle.

“you let me mourn. i was mourning.”

“yeah, i saw that.”

“i told arthur i was emotionally abandoned. you made me lie to my own brother.”

you handed him a fork. “eat your cake, romeo.”

charles laughed, stepping closer and pulling you into the tightest hug you’d ever gotten from him.

“you’re terrible,” he whispered.

“but?”

he kissed your forehead. “but i love you. even if you are a little monster.”

you smirked. “happy birthday, drama king.”

“never do this to me again,” he said, full pout back in place. “i aged five years today. emotionally.”

ʚ・lando norris

you didn’t actually forget lando’s birthday.

you just didn’t say anything right away.

why? because watching your boyfriend slowly unravel in quiet confusion while trying so hard to act like he doesn’t care? prime entertainment. especially when it’s lando and you know his first response to emotional distress is going live on twitch like a victorian child playing the piano in a thunderstorm.

you left him a kiss on the cheek that morning. said something casual like, “i’ve got errands today, might be gone for a while.” no happy birthday, no gifts, no hints.

he blinked. “okay… cool.”

then you walked out.

lando sat there for a while. fully dressed in his comfy hoodie, expecting a “surprise!” to pop out from the bedroom or kitchen or shower. nothing. the apartment was silent.

he gave it an hour. then opened twitch.

“yo,” he mumbled into the mic. “what’s up, guys.”

chat immediately popped off:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING!!!

WHERE’S Y/N??

ISN’T IT DATE NIGHT??

YOU STREAMING ON YOUR BIRTHDAY?

BE FR, ARE YOU OK

lando forced a smile. “yeah… nothing planned today. just thought i’d chill with you guys instead.”

he sipped his red bull dramatically. “no big deal or anything. just a regular day. like any other. i’m not sad.”

he absolutely sounded sad.

even his “poggers” had less energy than usual.

at one point he read a message and went, “no no, she didn’t forget, i don’t think… i mean, probably not. right?”

silence.

he died in-game two seconds later.

an hour into the stream, he looked directly into the camera and said, “if anyone asks, i’m emotionally strong. like… very mentally resilient. super fine.”

right on cue, your voice came from the door behind him: “hey, lan?”

he turned around so fast he nearly fell out of his chair. “yeah?”

you peeked in. “can you come downstairs real quick?”

“what for?”

you shrugged. “just come on.”

lando hesitated, told chat “brb maybe she finally remembered i exist” and followed you downstairs.

waiting outside was a surprise birthday setup on the rooftop deck of your building. pizza, cake, his favorite snacks, party lights, a mini projector set up to play shrek 2 (because of course), and all his closest friends quietly waiting with party hats on.

he blinked. then laughed. then rubbed his face like he was overwhelmed but also completely relieved.

“you’re evil,” he said, pulling you into a hug.

“you were really about to stream all night, huh?”

“i was playing the long game. guilt stream.”

“happy birthday, twitch boy.”

he looked around at everything, grinning like an idiot. “okay yeah. worth the emotional damage. ten out of ten.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you weren’t actually going to forget oscar’s birthday.

please. you’d had the whole thing planned for weeks. the idea was simple: pretend to forget, act super casual all day, then hit him with a surprise dinner, a stack of his favorite snacks, and a handmade card that said “happy birthday, nerd <3” in glitter glue.

classic. easy. foolproof.

except there was one flaw in the plan: oscar literally didn’t care.

the day started normally. you woke up, kissed his cheek, got out of bed like it was just any other morning. no mention of birthdays, no presents, not even a wink.

he just stretched and went, “do we have any cereal left?”

you expected some reaction. a confused glance. maybe a suspicious squint. but nope. he poured cereal, sat at the table, and started talking about tire degradation in the australian grand prix like it was a normal tuesday in april.

you were still waiting for the shift. for the "heh… you forgot something?" moment. it never came.

by lunchtime, you started to panic.

you casually said, “nothing special going on today?”

he looked up from his sandwich. “nah. not really.”

no sarcasm. no hint of drama. just full, honest indifference.

that’s when it hit you: he actually didn’t care that you hadn’t said anything. not even a little.

and that made you spiral.

“oh absolutely not,” you whispered to yourself, already grabbing your bag.

by the time oscar finished his sim session, the apartment was unrecognizable.

the lights were dimmed. candles were everywhere. a blanket fort was in the living room, fairy lights tangled in the sheets. on the table: pizza, garlic bread, a mini chocolate cake, and a birthday card shaped like a tire that said “p1 in being born.”

he blinked. “uh.”

you appeared from behind the couch, slightly out of breath and holding a party hat. “sit down. we’re celebrating your birth. no arguments.”

oscar raised an eyebrow. “i thought you forgot.”

“that was part of the plan. but then i realized you didn’t even care, and that was way worse.”

“i really didn’t,” he said honestly. “it’s just not a big—”

you shoved garlic bread in his mouth. “it is. you’re my favorite person and you were born today and that is a top-tier event.”

oscar slowly chewed. then smiled a little. “this is ridiculous.”

“you deserve ridiculous.”

he sat down, pulled the party hat over his hair with zero resistance, and looked around at the chaos.

“i seriously didn’t expect this.”

you nudged the cake closer to him. “good. i wanted to catch you off guard. you never let people do stuff for you.”

he paused. “yeah. i guess i don’t.”

you sat beside him. “well, too bad. today’s not about what you think you need. it’s about me forcing love upon you in the form of carbohydrates.”

he let out a quiet laugh, eyes soft as he looked over at you.

“thank you,” he said. “really.”

you smiled. “happy birthday, oscar.”

and for a guy who “didn’t care,” he looked suspiciously close to being emotional.

but he just picked up a slice of pizza and said, “do i at least get to pick the movie?”

“absolutely, birthday boy.”

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

[navydoves]

Bunny!Xavier and his strange affectionate habits

there’s always something new with your bunny boyfriend. his habits are so strange!

✎ᝰ a/n: i guess this is a series now lmao. if i were to do zayne or caleb, what animals would they even be. cat and dog? we’ll have to figure this out >_>

dragon sylus version

mermaid rafayel version

𖤐

❥ he nibbles on you! it’s gotten to be a little bit of a problem, but xavier can’t help himself. he’ll nibble on your skin and hair until there are tiny little red marks painted on you. at first you thought these were little hickeys, but the real explanation is much more innocent.

bunnies nibble to groom you! he’ll especially groom you when you’re bed rotting or are too lazy to get up. he wants to make sure you’re clean and if you’re not taking care of yourself — he will! but he also nibbles to get your attention. xavier is known to be pouty and clingy, so if he’s low on your love today he’ll forcefully sit on your lap and nibble on your face until you give in.

❥ he hides in your hair. whenever xavier feels overwhelmed or stressed, he’ll go straight to you and dig his head in your hair. it’s a combination of your scent and your shielding hair strands that gives him a sense of safety. he likes the way your hair feels against his skin along with the way it keeps him warm.

but still — wet, dry, tangled, brushed; he really doesn’t care what your hair is looking like, as long as he can bury his nose in your scalp and close his eyes. this also makes for a good cuddling session!

❥ he eats everything. xavier has the appetite of three elephants and then another three elephants. whether he can cook or not is irrelevant, even if he burns something to the point of it being inedible, he’ll still eat it. snacks you’ve saved for later or baked good you’ve left out gets gobbled immediately by him, and it was only ‘til you scolded him that he stopped. stopped taking you food that is, he’ll still beg.

if he smells a meal in the house he’ll quickly sit next to you and smile silently, hoping that you’ll spare him a piece. he’s learned to be less greedy, go easy on him — but he’ll become extremely elated if you give him a quick nibble. he wouldn’t even ask for a full piece of chicken or bread, just a little slither is enough to keep him happy. he thinks of eating together as bonding.

❥ he mimics you. sometimes consciously, mostly unconsciously, xavier will pick up and mimic your habits. if you have a habit of playing with your hair, xavier will also start playing with his hair to mirror you. if you touch your necklace in thought, xavier will also touch his imaginary necklace while he thinks. it wasn’t until he picked up on your manner of sneezing that you realized you left an impression on him.

you didn’t say anything at first: finding it rather endearing how xavier unknowingly imitates you. but once you brought it up in passing xavier tilted his head in confusion. did he really mimic you that much? he was a little oblivious to that fact, apparently. but even with that realization, xavier doesn’t try and stop himself learning from you. in fact, he tries to tease you by imitating you even more. he loves being like you because he simply just loves you.

❥ he teases you with his ears. xavier knows how much you love his ears, so he’ll use them to his advantage to play. when you’re asleep and he wants you awake, he’ll climb the bed, lean into your face, and move one of his ears over your cheek to stir you awake. in a similar fashion, he’ll use his ears to wrap around your head or wrist as another way to embrace you. the fluffy feel of his ears was always welcome on your skin, it felt like a hug from a pillow.

but by far his favourite way to use his ears on you was when he lightly traced your midsection and thighs with the very tips of his fluff. it tickles you slightly, but the purpose of this tease was to get you riled up and beg for a little more contact. he obliges, of course, but slowly. he loves taking his time with you. by the end of it all, his ears around wrapped around your thighs as he satiates his hunger in a different way this time.

❥ he claps when he’s happy. this can be mistaken as a normal human habit, but xavier does it much more often and eagerly than any regular person. his hands will patter together rapidly to create a very quiet but joyful sound. he has no “normal” way of clapping, he only does it in one specific way to show how content he is. if he thinks the sound is too distracting for the moment, he’ll hide his hands behind his back and pitter-patter them there.

even over small things like finding his favourite ramen in-stock at the store, he’ll clap very quietly to himself before putting it in the cart, and later on, when he gets to show you what he got from the store, he’ll start clapping again from how happy he is to share his excitement. as reserved as he is on the outside, xavier is very chipper on the inside.

𖤐

[goatgoesmbe]

tw : reader implied to have social anxiety, stalking

A series : discord shenanigans (Next)

AO3

Word count: 1808

rated: T

TF141 x f!reader

The welcome

This wasn't something you usually do, reaching out to strangers, seeking friends, socializing. It was only online, sure-- but you couldn't help the way your heart racing so hard you could feel it in your throat, your palms felt sweaty as you contemplated on clicking the link.

A discord server.

A public one at that.

Dedicated for people who took a liking on this FPS game you just got obsessed with. It was a pretty popular game, so you spent a lot of time looking for the one where it wouldn't be too crowded as to not overwhelm you. And surprisingly, you managed to find one.

It took you a few days to find it, scrolling at a few accounts that seemed to know each other very well. You tried to convince yourself that you weren't being creepy. After all, you followed one of them because you liked their posts which was mostly about games he recently played that you were also interested in, and also posts about a glimpse of his life. GazH8Heli.

You thought the guy was cool, definitely someone you wanted to get to know more.

But of course, you didn't have the courage to reach out.

Until.. today.

You saw his conversation in post replies about a gaming server which was opened for the public, even though the link wasn't shown in any post. Just told once in this particular reply.

Again, this wasn't something you usually do. You were content in being by your loneself with video games as your only companion.

But, this game you're recently obsessed with is a multiplayer game. And you were starting to get frustrated playing on random with strangers who couldn't cooperate.

Though, there is also a slight hope to find some kind of connection with someone. You were starting to get really lonely despite what you told yourself.

Just then you told yourself 'fuck it' and clicked on the link. Your heart racing so fast now that you felt nauseous-

"Welcomee..!!!" A message popped up on the screen, followed by the others who also welcomed you.

You fidgeted with the hem of your t-shirt as you watched the chat greeting you. It seemed like searching for a smaller server wasn't really a good idea. You should've expected this, for people to interact instead of ignoring a user who weren't their friends.

It seemed like there were four members who are active currently. CapBravo6 welcomed you first with a simple message, followed by the guy you followed-- greeting you in a more friendly manner by including heart emojis. The other one, Sexysoap69, spammed the chat with various silly gifs saying 'welcome' and you couldn't help but giggle. There was also a user who was seen as active but didn't appear in the chat, GhostSRK9.

They didn't show their faces on their icons (if Soap's mohawk didn't count), but from the vibes alone you could tell they were all guys who already know each other well.

You already feel like hiding at the thought of simply replying to their warm welcome, but you would overthink about it and feel even more horrible if you just ignored them. And so, you sent a message "Hello everyone, thank you for the welcome ^^"

You clicked sent before you could change your mind or overthink about how well the simple reply would be received. Fuck, you thought the emoji was nice, but now you read it again, it looked like you were trying too much-

Fortunately, the message was well received. too well..

Soap replied with a gif of a cartoon kissing the camera, while the others reacted to your reply with heart emojis.

And you realized that you've been smiling. God, you feel pathetic.

"How did you find this server?? 👀" Gaz asked. It was a simple question really, not a big deal. But you were starting to feel anxious again, like you were being interrogated for some kind of crime.

You couldn't think of anything better to say than the truth. "I actually found it in your social.. i hope it's okay, sorry"

And before you could overanalyze your own reply again, another message came. "Don't worry about it, I assume you're here because of the game then?" Gaz asked again, while you see Soap had been typing for a while now.. but hadn't sent anything more except for the previous gifs. You were thinking about being more considerate and letting Soap send his message first, but Kyle's message got your attention.

At his question, your fingers immediately danced on the keyboard. You proceeded to ramble about said game, your experience playing, how you've been up to date with every news about it, and a bit of bragging about your rank.

When you were done, you felt your heart sink when you saw that you practically just sent a whole essay. But before you could think anything bad about it- and yourself, the four reacted to it with various emojis. You found yourself smiling again.

"You gotta be lying about your rank.. no way" Gaz's message said.

"Yeah! Even Ghost's isn't that high" Soap added. You audibly giggle at this since you expected a longer message from how long he had been typing previously.

Despite being so very anxious earlier, you found yourself getting along with them just fine.

"I'm not lying, i just play a lot.." You contemplated on adding that it was because you have no life, but decided against it since you felt like it would be too self-deprecating for the first interaction.

"Prove them wrong, then" Price sent, the second message since the first one greeting you from when you just got in.

Despite your hands that were a bit shaky from both anxiety and excitement, you quickly opened the game and took a screenshot of your game profile before sending it to the server.

There were a lot of typing from their side before a message appeared.

"Just checked, it's real" Gaz sent before adding another one after. "Sent a friend request too ;)" You felt ashamed to blush at the emoji.

Soap sent another barrage of gifs. "Sent one too" He added after.

"Same here" Price chimed in.

Even Ghost finally appeared in the chat with a screenshot of him sending the request in the game.

You were definitely not used to this. Interacting with people so easily like you've known them for a while, and how well they received you, bombarding you with attention.

Once again, you felt pathetic for being giddy at something other people probably think as normal.

"Okay.. just accepted them all, thank you ^^" You sent it without second thought for some reason, which you immediately regret. What were you thanking them for? well.. for being really nice, but does it show how lonely you have been?

It didn't seem so from their replies which were still very positive.

And that's how you find yourself spending more time socializing online, compared to before where video games were your only friend.

Days passed, and eventually you started getting less nervous talking to them. You haven't got to the stage where you started a conversation first, but you were not as shy as before when replying now. You didn't consider yourself to be active in the server, but they made sure you were.

While you never send a message first, they always tag you in every conversation. Which made you feel like it would be rude to not respond.

The conversation started like how it was at first, talking about the game you've been obsessed with lately. But eventually it turned to something more personal.

You learned that they were in the military together, coworkers. Though the details seemed to be classified. They never talked about it, but from their conversation alone you assumed as much.

There were channels in the server dedicated to conversations unrelated to the game. Memes channel was mostly dominated by Soap where he sent everything he found funny there, while Gaz who actually sent something funny once in a while. There were creative space which also dominated by Soap, and you always replied to each of his drawings with compliments. How could you not when he tagged you every time he drew something. Not that you minded, he was a great artist.

The pictures channel was your favorite because you can see a glimpse of who they are. Price liked to send pictures of beautiful sceneries, Gaz sent photos he took that you would definitely add to your interest board, while Soap updated everyone randomly like a few times he posted pictures of him washing his hands in the sink with the following message "Just took a shit". You found yourself laughing at it every time despite the other's complaints.

Even Ghost was more active (as much as he was) in that channel. Sending pictures of the others sleeping (mostly Soap) without them knowing and photos of a military dog without any words said. Her name was Riley and you adored her.

And there was a vent channel, which was mostly Price scolding them for pulling pranks on him and the others. Soap would whine about injuries he got which made you really concerned, but based on the other's reactions, it seemed like a normal occurrence.

On some days, you were tempted to send something to that channel. To talk about stuff that's been bothering you. But you always found yourself deleting the long message you wrote.

Though, eventually enough, their friendliness made you want to share more about yourself.

"Just think the moon is pretty.. even though my phone can't really capture it, haha" You sent a picture of the night sky one day after multiple times fixing the message.

You still felt silly about sending said pictures, but you tried to convince yourself that the others were doing the same so it wasn't a big deal, shouldn't be a big deal.

"Not as bonnie as you ;)" You saw Soap replied immediately which distracted you from your thoughts.

You didn't see anyone else replying unlike usual, but they still left emojis on said pictures so you paid it no mind.

"You don't even know what i look like XD" You sent with a giggle.

There wasn't an immediate response from anyone which was a bit odd.. but you kept telling yourself to stop overthinking everything.

Unaware of the red light being on beside your front camera, meaning that it had been on for a while.

"The way you type is bonnie" Soap finally sent, but it was lacking gifs and emojis like he was quick to send it.

"Haha, what does that even mean.." You replied, oblivious as ever.

"Just.. how we think a pretty girl would talk like" Gaz chimed in as Soap was shown to be typing for a while now.

"Lol, okay then"

THIS got longer than it should be- so Im gonna put the rest in other chapters

Next

open taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @sweetlike-sugarplum, @mordacioust, @boogeysmoth, @little-mini-me-world, @sxnshinebxcky, @thethingfromtheblacklagoon, @lady-red-night-1234, @just-pure-trash

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

thank you so much to @rybunnie @rybunbun for the info/inspo for this and so many other posts!!! i owe u so much🥹

you knew that nagi seishiro loved you.

he clung to you, he played video games with you, he binged watch anime with you, he slept most nights holding you close to his chest, and he looked at you as if you were the most precious, extravagant treasure, as if you were irreplaceable and that he could never love another nearly as much. even if he didn’t express it through his words, his actions told you all that you needed to know.

you also knew that nagi seishiro was the bane of your existence.

skipping dates because he was too lazy to go, thinking that not replying to your texts was okay because it was a hassle, skipping dates because of soccer practice (in which he just scores 50 goals and falls asleep), being completely unaware of anyone else who had romantic interests in him and trying to steal him away from you, often flat-out ignoring you in favor of playing video games, insensitive words that he thinks are alright to say.

you’re sitting on the chipped and white wooden bench at the park, four fingers drumming on your thigh impatiently before you finally sighed, pressing the bright green “call” button once more. and once more, a robotic female voice replied. “the number you have called is currently unavailable. please send a voicemail.”

finally, you got up, hands in your pockets and grumbling profanities under your breath. angrily, you began typing on your phone, nagi’s contact photo clear as day.

you: ik that u didn’t have soccer practice today because reo said so

you: where the fuck r u???

another date, skipped for video games. probably a date that was completely forgotten about again. you were tired of this; this was the what, third time already these past two weeks? and you guys never even went on dates that often either. you groaned, walking back to your crappy little school dorm that was a whole damn building away from nagi’s.

when you were at school the next day, you ignored nagi’s overwhelming presence in the classroom. you ignored him following you around like a lost puppy. you ignored him trying to talk to you. you ignored his nudging and poking. you ignored his constant quiet apologies.

after school ended, you immediately walked back to your dorm swiftly, not turning back to see nagi almost chasing after you through the crowded halls. your eyes widened a fraction when you realized how quickly nagi was walking; he would usually find walking too fast a hassle. but just before he could catch up to you, you reached your dorm and slammed the door, leaving him outside.

“‘m sorry.” nagi muttered. “please let me in. it’s gonna rain soon, and i miss you.”

“go back to your own dorm. or go to reo’s bigass company-house-penthouse-apartment thing.” you replied hastily. “go away. you’re annoying.”

you could almost feel nagi’s pout through the door, and for a moment, you almost felt tempted to let him in. but he didn’t show up to your date last night and left you freezing on the park bench, so this is well deserved.

a few minutes later, a rainstorm thudded through the city, the clouds gray and dull. as you stared outside, you wondered if nagi had made it to his dorm safely. no, he probably had. he played soccer after all; he was fast. but your thoughts came to a halt when a loud knock came on the door.

“can you let me in? it’s really wet out here.”

you nearly sprinted to open the door, and there stood nagi, his hair and clothes wet, holding an all too familiar plastic bag. inside, you could vaguely see your favorite snacks and foods from the nearby convenience store. “sei? what the hell are you doing out here?” he stepped in, dropping the plastic bag on your counter.

“missed you, and i felt bad.” his puppy dog eyes made your own soften, and you even felt a little bad yourself. “i’ll try not to do it again. i told reo to text me whenever i have a date with you now, and i’ll try to remember more often now.”

your eyes softened, and despite how soaked his clothes were, you embraced him. “at least you’re trying.” nagi lazily draped his arms around you.

“i thought you thought that i was annoying.” nagi mumbled.

“i did. but then again, i remembered that your my boyfriend and i love you, and that my love for you cancels out my annoyance at your stupidity.”

nagi laughed before he looked down at you, and despite the rain and clouds outside, his eyes turned into glittering gems underneath the sunlight when he looked at the love of his life.

a/n: did you catch the kim possible reference???

[rinsnumber1fan]

When they accidently hit you...

Includes: rin itoshi, sae itoshi, isagi yoichi, Michael kaiser

Itoshi Rin:

He was just looking for his book that he left on the top shelf, just to make sure that you don't steal it and hide it to annoy him.

You stood right by his side where he had his arm stretched all the way up to the top shelf on his room to find the book. "Rin, I feel like eating some Chinese food today-" you said, fidgeting as you stood by his side.

He gave you a side long glance and grabbed the book, and when he tried to put his arms back to his side, his elbow hit your face.

His eyes widened immidiently and he panicked, "a-are you okay?!" He said, looking down at you who covered your face and winced in pain.

Rin quickly looked to his left and right as if something were to appear and he quickly stepped back, "I'll go get you some-" you grab his hand, "that was... amazing."

Rin blinked..

"What?" He asked as if hoping you didn't mean what you said.

You pulled your hand away from your nose which felt broken because of his elbow, "that was... amazing, do it again." You said with a slight head tilt.

"You.. want me to- to.. hit you..?" He asked as if in confusion.

"Yeah but like really mean it!"

"Nope, no. I'm not doing this-"

He tried to run away and you captured him. Hugging him from behind, "I always knew getting hit by you would be amazing-" his cheeks turn red and he almost dies.

Itoshi sae:

Sae was at a party and he was allowed to bring one person and he bought you the only one he could tolerate.

Sae stood in the main area filled with glitter and RGB lights trying not to interact but these girls were making it pretty difficult for him..

You stood by his side trying your best to be professional while a bunch of girls throw themselves at him bacically.

The blonde twirls her hair, "so you're good at working with balls huh? Me too... kinda.." she tilts her head. It didn't take a genius to recognize what she was trying to say. You kept your mouth zipped but then a few other girls join in.

"Did you know im the shortest girl in this party?"

"I heard you like athletic women! Well I can play with balls too."

Your eye visibly twitched. Sae didn't really say anything just stared off in space with an irritated frown on his face.

But when he feels one of the girls resting her head on his shoulder,

He feels disgusting.

He puts a hand on that woman's head and pushes her off of him harshly.

"Don't you ever fucking dare to-" he immidiently regrets it, noticing the person he just pushed was you.

You looked up at him and he paused and froze for a moment his eyes remained wide, "im sorry- i- didnt-" you licked your bottom lip. "Uh no.. sorry I shouldve.. considered you were already overwhelmed by the-" he grabs your face gently and plants a kiss on your forehead.

"If I ever do that ever again, just kill me, okay?" Sae says, looking at you dead in the eye but more emotion than he's ever shown before.

He's just that scared of hurting someone he loves.

Michael Kaiser:

"Okay and how many times do I have to explain it for your dumb little brain to understand that-" "HEY IM NOT DUMB!" You shouted as kaiser sighed, glancing at all the notebooks and books scattered over your desk.

"You want tutoring, and I'm giving you tutoring. so, stop being lazy and hurry up and solve it." He pressed the pen against the paper roughly.

You pouted and reluctantly grab the pen from his hands, starting to solve the whole problem. "I've been at it for five hours-" "just five hours? I practice soccer for 15 hours every day."

You blinked at the man.

"There's no way you actually-"

"Shut it-"

You obliged and continued.

You got the same problem wrong after like three tries and once again now.

Kaisers brow twitched, "how many times do I have to-" he accidently held your arm a bit too tightly, losing control of his anger.

You winced in pain.

He paused for a moment and quickly let go, he didn't apologize though. Not untill you pouted and your voice was wobbling and your eyes had tears in them. Kaiser sighed in annoyance, or feigning annoyance "are you kidding.. me..?" He glanced at you and for a moment felt a pang in his heart.

"You hurt me!" You announced, although it didn't hurt at all you just wanted to make a show because you loved making kaiser feel bad.

"I didn't even do it that hard!! Okay.. fine.. I'm sorry.." He murmured, grabbing your hand in his and planting a kiss over your knuckles. "Pretty?" He tilts his head and you pouted, only to kiss his cheek back

And then give him the best head ever later.

Isagi yoichi:

Isagi was alone, or so he thought. Watching a movie late at night, a horror one thinking he needed a change, and then you sneaked up behind him. You placed a hand on his shoulders and shouted "BOO!"

The moment his hand collided with your face you knew it was over.

He slapped rhe shit out of you and threw you down to the floor.

Leaving a red print on your cheek.

"Oh my God! You scared the life out of me!! A-are you okay?!" Isagi yelled as he glanced at you on the floor.

You totally deserved it but isagi wasn't the type to admit that.

You lift yout head slowly and smile at him with blood running down your nose. "OH MY GOD!! IM TAKING YOU TO THE HOSPITAL!!!" He grabs you and runs.

"I-isagi wait!! Its no- I'm fine!!"

And you had to get nose surgery after that.

Happy ending

PKEASE LEAVE A COMMENT IM ASCENSINF PLS LEAVE A OCMMENT PLSPLSPLSPLS

[truerhearts]

ASTARION is acting different.

he's quieter around camp now. less of those sharp-tongued quips that usually flow so easily. he catches himself staring at her when she's not looking, then quickly glances away like he's been caught doing something wrong.

his feeding has become reverent instead of ravenous. he hesitates now, asks if she’s sure, presses a soft kiss to the pulse before he bites.

he seeks her approval in ways that have nothing to do with seduction. when he makes decisions, his eyes find hers first. her good opinion has become as essential as blood.

and now during fights, he’s reckless with his own safety now, throwing himself between her and harm without thinking. “i can handle myself, you know,” she’d say, crossing her arms.

“i know darling…” he trails off, staring at his hands. he doesn't understand why he did it either. the thought of that blade finding her skin had sent him into a panic he couldn't name.

she doesn't know why, of course. he barely knows himself. but he has a hunch, and it terrifies him.

he doesn't know when it started—somewhere between her asking "did you rest well?" and the way she bandages his wounds tenderly—but now when she looks at him, really looks at him, his dead heart does this stupid fluttering thing.

when she brushes against him, her warmth doesn't just touch his skin. it goes deeper. settles in places he'd forgotten existed, places that ache with want that has nothing to do with feeding or fucking or getting what he needs to survive.

maybe it's because she cares. actually cares, not the fake concern people use when they want something. she shows it in the small things: "you seem tired today." "i saved you some of the good wine." "the stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they?"

to someone who hasn't experienced genuine affection in two hundred years, these little moments feel like everything.

the nights when her tent flap opens for him now, everything is different. he moves differently. less performance, less of that practiced charm he's perfected over decades. he's gentler with her, almost hesitant. his hands linger on her face before he kisses her, and she looks at him like he's something precious instead of dangerous.

he takes his time now. when he peels away her clothes, he does it slow, reverent. each kiss tastes like honey and guilt because he knows—fuck, he knows—that he started this as a lie.

the pleasure is overwhelming now. more intense than anything he's felt in centuries because it's real. when she arches beneath him, when she whispers his name like a prayer, it threatens to break him completely. he's louder now, lets himself feel everything instead of just doing what was necessary to play the part.

but with every touch, every breath, the guilt eats at him. this isn't the calculated seduction he'd planned. this isn't using her for protection. this is something else entirely, something that feels too much like love and too much like betrayal.

she trusts him. opens herself to him completely, and he built this on a lie.

after, when they're tangled together, he holds her tighter than he should. she fits against him perfectly, her head on his chest where his heart should be beating if he were still alive. if he were still worthy of this.

"what's wrong?" she asks, voice soft. her fingers trace patterns on his skin, and there's concern in her voice. she’s noticing.

"nothing," he lies. his fingers find her hair, thread through it like the motion might calm the storm in his chest.

"you're different tonight. quieter."

different. if she only knew. if she only knew the man she's falling for was built on deception. that every tender moment between them started as manipulation.

"i'm just thinking," he says.

she doesn't push, she never does. just settles deeper against him, breathing slowing as sleep pulls her under.

he stays awake long after she's asleep, studying her face in the candlelight. the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. her lips, slightly parted. the complete vulnerability written in every line of her body.

she trusts him enough to sleep in his arms, and the weight of it is crushing. how naïve. she doesn't know he'd originally planned to use her. doesn't know every sweet word in those early days had been calculated, how it was all for his benefit.

but somewhere along the way, the performance became real.

two centuries of survival instincts stand off with something newer, invasive almost. something that makes his chest ache. something that whispers maybe he could be worthy of the love he sees in her eyes.

the realization hits him like dawn breaking as he lay with her, now noticing he stayed all night. feeling the rhythm of her breathing as she slept in his arms, how warm she was against his cool skin. how she trusts him.

he loves her.

the thought should terrify him. instead, it settles into his bones like coming home. he loves her. not just her body, not just what she can do for him, but her. her kindness. her strength that never comes at the cost of gentleness. her trust that she gives freely, even to broken things like him.

he loves her, and he's completely fucked.

[thatonegrimm]

Hiya may I request Saja boys x reader separately where it’s readers birthday but as like a prank they pretend to forget the whole day until it’s dark and they finally wish her happy birthday but readers extremely hurt about the thing so they apologize in their own way of weird apologies?

Thank you for your request! Oof—this is a good one! I feel so bad for anyone who’s actually been through something like this… poor reader. 😭 Here you go!

🌙 Saja Boys x Reader — They Forgot Your Birthday (But Not Really)

It was supposed to be a prank. Just one day of pretending they didn’t remember. You were supposed to laugh when they finally yelled surprise. But you didn’t. So they apologized — each in their own strange, broken, deeply them kind of way.

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

🧿 Jinu

Jinu knew something was wrong when you stopped humming.

You always hummed when you were comfortable — washing dishes, fiddling with your phone, folding laundry. But today, the dorm was quiet. Too quiet. Not even footsteps. Not even sighs.

He poked his head into the living room and found you sitting perfectly still, curled into yourself on the far corner of the couch. You weren’t looking at anything. Not your phone. Not the TV. Not him.

He felt something cold coil behind his ribs.

The others were still whispering in the kitchen, setting up the surprise. He was supposed to stall you. Make it funny. Light. Silly.

Instead, he walked over and sat beside you like he was approaching a wild animal.

You didn’t even glance at him.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Turns out I’m bad at jokes.”

Nothing.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper, and held it up between you.

On it was a blue tiger in a party hat, holding a crooked balloon.

“…I panicked.”

You blinked at it.

“I was gonna write a speech,” he added. “But Derpy said they should go first.”

You bit your lip.

He turned the paper around to show the back: ‘I’m sorry. I forgot birthdays are supposed to feel safe.’

You didn’t cry.

But you did lean into his side, and when his arm came around your shoulders, it stayed there the rest of the night.

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

💪 Abby

You smiled when they finally brought the cake out. Said thank you. Took pictures.

But it wasn’t real.

Abby saw it in the way you didn’t meet his eyes. How your shoulders stayed stiff even when Romance hugged you. How your smile dropped the second you thought no one was looking.

It hit him like a weight to the chest.

So that night — after the others fell asleep — he knocked on your door with flour still on his shirt and batter in his hair.

In his arms: a lopsided cake, hand-mixed, hand-frosted, covered in tiny icing biceps and hearts.

“I didn’t know how to say sorry,” he said. “So I… baked my feelings.”

You opened the door wider.

He stepped in, sheepish. “We didn’t mean to hurt you. It was supposed to be funny. But I forgot that sometimes, when people forget things for real... it leaves a mark.”

You touched the cake with two fingers. It was warm.

“I promise next year I’ll start at midnight,” he said. “And the year after that. And every year you let me.”

You leaned into his chest. He smelled like vanilla and guilt.

“I’m still eating this,” you mumbled.

“You better,” he whispered.

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

📚 Mystery

You weren’t answering your texts. You hadn’t come back out after the cake. The others figured you were tired. Maybe overwhelmed. They didn’t see the look in your eyes when they all shouted surprise.

But Mystery saw it.

He waited until the dorm was quiet. Then he stood outside your door with the untouched cake in his arms, second-guessing everything.

Then he stepped inside, locked eyes with you where you sat on the bed, and without a word—

Face. First. Into. The. Cake.

You gasped. “Mystery?!”

He pulled back, frosting dripping off his face and bangs sticking to his cheekbones like tragedy spaghetti.

“I regret everything,” he deadpanned.

You stared. He stared back, totally serious.

“…What was that for?”

“I hurt you,” he said. “And I don’t know how to say sorry without exploding. So I exploded into dessert.”

You cracked.

Laughed so hard you nearly doubled over. He handed you a fistful of frosting like an offering.

“I’m not eating that.”

“It’s red velvet.”

You paused. Then took it.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you said.

He wiped his face on your sleeve and leaned into your side. “Never.”

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

💋 Romance

Romance always had a plan.

Outfits. Timing. Candle positions. He made you think he forgot on purpose. He wanted to surprise you with something massive.

But when he saw you alone on the balcony after dark, arms wrapped around your knees, face slack and tired — the plan didn’t matter.

He stepped inside. Grabbed the emergency envelope he’d hidden in case his original plan flopped.

He handed it to you without a word.

Inside: A stack of coupons. Homemade. Hand-doodled.

“1 forehead kiss” “1 free back rub (15 mins, no flirting unless requested)” “1 custom compliment “1 ‘you’re right and I was wrong’ token “1 song, sung badly but with heart”

“…You made me coupons?”

“Hand-cut.”

“Romance—”

“I didn’t forget. But I forgot what forgetting feels like.”

Your lip wobbled.

He opened the top coupon and read it aloud.

“‘One forehead kiss.’ Redeeming now.”

He leaned forward, kissed you right between the brows, and said softly:

“You’re unforgettable. I’m sorry I made you feel like anything less.”

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

🔥 Baby

You smiled during the surprise.

A small, brittle smile.

And Baby knew something was off. You didn’t tease him once. Didn’t steal a bite of his cake. Didn’t ask if he’d forgotten just to annoy him.

That was what hit him hardest.

So later, when the dorm had gone quiet, he dragged you into the hallway, eyes serious.

“We’re never doing that again.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You were the one who said it’d be funny.”

“I was wrong. That sucked.”

You blinked.

He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a tiny handmade bracelet — uneven knots, woven beads, an awkward little charm that looked like a flame.

“I call it the Birthday Blood Oath.”

You squinted. “What’s the oath?”

“If anyone makes you cry on your birthday again — including me — it activates. Glows red. I immediately destroy the person responsible. No questions asked.”

“…You made this today?”

“Tied it with my teeth. Took two tries.”

You stared. Then slipped it on.

“Fine. But you owe me a second cake.”

“I’ll make five.”

“And not spicy this time.”

“…Two.”

You smiled.

He smiled harder.

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

M-List

[sevsevteen]

Being the only girl in an all-male group wasn’t just physically exhausting - it was emotionally taxing too.

There were moments you felt like you had to work twice as hard just to be seen, moments when ypu quietly stepped aside when the boys shared laughter about things you couldn’t quite relate to, and moments swallowed by your own tears just so no one else would feel burdened.

But you was observant.

If not talking, you were watching. Listening. Learning.

Over the years, you picked up on things that no one else noticed.

You knew Seungcheol hated the silence after an argument - it reminded him of his own pressure as a leader. So you’d hum quietly while folding towels or play a silly video loud enough for him to hear when things got too still.

You knew Wonwoo comforted himself with routine. So when he was upset, you'd nudge his favorite mug into his hands and sit beside him without a word, letting him talk only if he wanted to.

Hoshi needed to move when he was overwhelmed, so you’d tug him into the practice room and dance with him, no matter how tired you were. Even if it was just ridiculous jumping around until both of you were breathless with laughter.

Jeonghan needed reassurance - not in words, but in effort. So you’d help him brush out his hair, straighten his jacket or fix his mic, quietly showing him that you always had his back.

No one really asked you to do any of this. You just… learned. Because while it wasn’t easy being the only girl, these boys were your family.

But knowing them inside and out could also have it's own disadvantages - especially when the others couldn't see what you saw daily. There was a sense of responsibility you held to keep the members grounded, and sometimes things just won't work out.

Just like today,

The practice room was louder than usual. Laughter echoed off the mirrored walls as the members collapsed over one another, teasing Minghao about a behind-the-scenes clip that had gone viral.

“Come on, you were kind of stiff,” You watched Seungkwan chuckle, nudging Minghao with his shoulder.

“Stiff?” Soonyoung snorted. “Let’s just replay it, shall we? For educational purposes.”

The video played again - Minghao in rehearsals, looking a bit off-beat and dazed, clearly tired. The laughter grew louder, piling on, but you sat at the edge, smile fading.

Minghao laughed too, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He kept his head slightly down, jaw tight, and though the corners of his lips were curled, you could see his fingers twisting the hem of his hoodie—an old habit you knew well.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said softly.

“Relax, it’s just a joke,” Vernon waved off, still grinning.

“No, really. It’s enough.” Your voice was firmer this time.

You stood, looking directly at them. “He’s tired. He’s been practicing just as hard as everyone else.”

The room went a little quieter, tension flickering in the air. But before anyone could say more, Minghao stood abruptly, grabbing his water bottle.

“I’m gonna get some air,” he said, still smiling, but his voice was rough—like he was holding something back.

The door clicked shut behind him.

No one moved.

You let out a quiet breath, staring at the door.

“You didn’t have to snap,” someone mumbled.

“I didn’t. But he did.”

And that silence? It said everything. Because they all knew you were right.

Behind a joke, sometimes there’s a line—and tonight, they crossed his.

-

[jung-koook]

250613 - namjoon on weverse: “Hello everyone, Happy Birthday, BTS.

So 06/13 has come again.

It's 06/13 once again Last year’s 06/13 was really tough… But now, June 13th 2025 is truly here. Honestly, I waited for this even more than all of you. I waited & waited & waited—truly.

12th anniversary… twelve years old! It’s like you’re the nephews/nieces of my multiverse. I’m glad you’ve grown up so well. Listen well to your parents—wait, no, listen just a little. These kinds of silly thoughts keep coming to me this evening.

Since it’s also my younger sibling’s birthday today, I spent time with family, and before showering, I broke the tip of my pencil pressing too hard, writing down these strange/bizarre thoughts. Honestly, I never thought this day would come. (T_T..)

Looking back, It always felt overwhelming. Every album, every project, every comeback— How dare I create like that and confidently hand out my business/name card? They say this is love, that this is us.

After resting for a year & a half, I can hardly remember it. Even now, the path still isn’t clear (to me). Each time, I just try desperately to find it.

I love the book called 'The Precision of Love' . Being loved precisely and loving precisely— That seemingly impossible task, I always wanted to try and achieve it. Although ironically, I myself know the least of all how accurately my love reaches.

I think I’ve lived my life trying to interpret & meet your love, to receive it as precisely as I can. I’ll try to go somewhere again—somewhere unknown (to me).

Although I still don’t know well how many people, of what kind and where, are by my side now, I want to walk romantically with you all. Will you come with me?..

Let me ask one more time.

Althrough days of fatigue & sleepless nights, through incomprehensible people and thoughts that cling like tails— I’ll push through all those obstacles once more, & venture bravely into the tomorrow.

At every overwhelming crossroads, it’s because of you that I endured, because of you that I moved forward. I’m grateful, so grateful.

When I try to keep it short, it always ends up long. Guess I’m still too young & immature to be concise. But talkativeness is also proof of clumsy love, so please look on it kindly.

We’ll really do better this time. Thank you for giving us another chance. Once again I love you. It’s a beautiful day. Good night!

- From Free Citizen Namjoon” (trans. cr. dalbitbangtan)