#they told you everything you need to know about where they stand and who they will stand behind

[rainydayathogwarts]

Bed side drawer - Peter Parker

summary: when Tony finds a box of condoms Peter's bed side drawer, he doesn't expect Peter's girlfriend to walk into the room, causing an awkward interaction. a/n: my toxic trait is that i always imagine tasm!peter even tho it's in the avengers universe 0.6k wc

When Peter walks into his bedroom, the first thing his eyes lay on is the box of condoms in his mentor's hand. Tony Stark smirks from where he sits on his mentee's bed, drinking the cup of coffee Aunt May had so graciously prepared him. Peter's eyes go wide, flickering between his open bed side drawer and his mentor, and he dives across the room to get the box from him. Peter nearly hits his head against the wall when Tony tosses the box in the air, catching it in his hand when it falls down again. Peter's face flushes red as he scrambles back up, straightening his bed sheets where he haphazardly landed on them, mouth gaping open. Peter can hear you laughing with his Aunt May in the living room about another one of May's stories. She always had to tell you about the stories of how smitten he was with you, an attempt for your relationship to last forever. He needs to get that box before you walk in because that was not the situation he imagined you'd meet Mr. Stark in. He refused to let it happen.

Peter tilts his head to the side with desperate eyes, begging "Please give me those Mr. Stark." Tony grins teasingly, saying "You know these only work when there are two people involved, right?" Peter doesn't have time to react before the door to his room opens again and you walk in, saying something about the story Aunt May had told you before your eyes land on the older man in the room, prompting you to go silent. Oh no, Peter thinks. Tony quickly's eyes quickly scan you where you awkwardly stand in the doorway, and the obvious mortification that settles on your face at the realisation of who he is.

"Oh."

"Oh." Tony's tone is suggestive, and completely different from yours. He stands up from Peter's bed, slowly making his way across the room to you. His eyes flicker between you and Peter, the box of condoms still in his hands as you shoot a hand out in front of you, smiling nervously and saying "Hi, I'm y/n." in a lowsy attempt to ignore the box laying in the man's hand, eyes glancing down to it a couple of times. Tony shakes your hand, introducing himself, before asking "And who might you be y/n?" Gulping, you glance between your boyfriend, whose face has flushed a dark shade of red, and the avenger standing in front of you. "I'm Peter's girlfriend." You state, eyes widening as Tony puts the box of condoms in your hand.

"There are two people involved then..." You hear him mutter under his breath, but it's nothing as embarrassing as Aunt May walking into the busy room and observing the situation, attention immediately caught by the box of condoms that you throw at your boyfriend in a panic. The box hits Peter's chest and falls on the floor, and neither of you make a move to pick it up whilst you smile awkwardly at May, who follows Tony out of the room. You huff when they walk out, turning around to dig your head into Peter's chest in humiliation. Your boyfriend hugs you close, rubbing a hand on your back, and he's happy you can't hear Tony say "That girl seems too sweet to be having sex with your nephew." or his Aunt May's scoff of "Yeah until you come back home after a night with your friends and hear everything through those walls. She really knows how to talk dirty."

[bunnies-p1tst0p]

Him singing happy birthday to her, even going off to find a cupcake and candle. Ugh! That shit had me genuinely tearing up, like no joke

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

Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

- He truly wants to know everything

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.

-Kicking my feet rn

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 gosh Charles. Fr?!

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.”

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

“It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

-

THIS THIS THIS

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.

-EHHHHHHH

“Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

-YUP YUPPPPO

“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.”

-Charles..

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

-YUP AS U SHPULD

just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

-YESSSSSS

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.

-Sooo glad they could make up! So glad she stood her ground and he finally listened

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.

-OMG THEY ALL WERE THERE AND CHEERED HER ON

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.

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.

-Bout to cry again.

THIS WAS A MASTERPIECE AS ALWAYS. THANK YOU BEAUTIFUL AUTHOR FOR YOUR BEAUTIFUL WORK!!!!!!!!

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.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

Hey girl! I absolutely love your work. The way you write Desi reader is phenomenal

I was hoping you could write a Lando fic where he and Reader go to a trampoline park for a date and he's live streaming. He sees that she's very sweaty from all the fun and he comments on it and she says "as if you could make me this sweaty, Norris" AND IT GETS CAUGHT ON CAMERA

If you're not comfortable with the last part maybe only the trampoline park date?

Sweaty Opportunities ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

ᰔᩚ ln x reader 🧸ྀི

ᰔᩚ fluff + humour + smau 🧸ྀི

masterlist ☾☼

date days were y/n's favourite, even more than date nights. of course, date nights had a different class of its own. with the wine, and the fine dining, and the pretty dresses and suits that always end up on the floor of the living room because they couldn't wait to make it to the bedroom. it was amazing, definitely.

but, y/n tended to enjoy the date days more. it contained of spending the entire day exploring, eating, and just being kids. they would be in far more comfortable clothes, and would walk around hand-in-hand everywhere. most of their date days were usually lando's ideas, and they were always something reckless and exhilarating. it always made lando's face a pretty red that y/n could never stop kissing.

this particular date, lando had told her that he was going to be making another landolog since it had been a long time. y/n had readily agreed, well aware of how much lando enjoyed making the landologs.

"babe, are you ready?" his voice called out from the living room.

"coming!" y/n replied, trying to get her anklet untangled from her sock so that it didn't break.

lando stood at the door of the room, with the camera in his hand, "chat, this happens every time! i tell her we need to leave at 12, she starts getting ready 12!"

"liar! i was ready to go before you!"

"apparently not, seeing that i've worn my shoes and everything, and you still only have on sock on," lando teased.

"my anklet got stuck again," y/n looked at him with the best puppy eyes she could.

lando sighed, always unable to resist her cute face, "fine, hold the camera,"

she smiled, making a funny face at the camera before she turned it around to record lando. the man had knelt on the floor, and was focused on getting her anklet untangled.

"he's such a nice boy, taking care of me. mumma approves of you too, na," y/n cooed at him.

lando smiled, shaking his head at her, knowing that she was making fun of him. he made a sound from the back of his throat, acknowledging that he heard her. y/n ran her fingers through his hair, talking in the camera how soft his hair was, and how she was envious of it.

"alright, done," lando said, as he stood up after untangling the anklet. he offered his hand to y/n, and she took it, standing up. lando pulled her close to his chest, the camera stuck between them.

y/n laughed, "lan! you're crushing the camera!"

lando pressed a kiss to her lips, and said, "well, they didn't need to see that anyway,"

the two grabbed their essentials, still bickering and bantering, laughing into the camera, as they left the apartment, and into the car.

the camera recorded the couple singing (read as: screaming) taylor swift songs on their way to lando's surprise date location.

"where are we going?" y/n asked.

"we're almost there, lovie. a little more patience."

"look who's talking about patience!" y/n turned towards the camera, and said, "this man has the least amount of patience i've ever seen, okay?"

"that's not true!"

"you almost burned down our home because you decided to set the oven at double the temperature because you thought it would cook quicker!"

"logically, it makes sense!"

"its a miracle we have a roof over our heads, lando!"

he laughed, a loud, shrieking kind of laugh. 

pulling into the parking lot, lando turned off the ignition, and quickly grabbed the camera to catch y/n’s face change from confusion, to understanding, to childlike excitement. he knew this was one of the few places y/n had always wanted to come to, and now, she would finally have the opportunity. 

“you got me to a trampoline park!” y/n shrieked. 

lando winced at the loud sound, but smiled nonetheless, “happy date day, baby!”

y/n wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s neck, the camera forgotten on his lap, as he hugged her back. “thank you, thank you, thank you!” she whispered. 

“i love you,” he whispered back. 

she kissed him, letting him know that she loved him too. 

getting out of the car, y/n jumped excitedly as lando laughed, holding the camera. seeing lando lock the car, y/n immediately began running towards the entrance. zooming on the camera to show just how far she had ran, lando said, “chat, she’s a little crazy, but i’m so head over heels for her,” 

following y/n inside, lando handed her the camera as she showed the place around and yapped. meanwhile, he paid for the tickets, and walked to where y/n was. she had been standing by the popcorn machine, talking to the camera like she was talking to another human. sneaking behind her, lando wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. y/n laughed, but let him walk towards the entrance of the trampoline park.

she set the camera down, angling it towards them, as the couple removed their shoes, and stored it in one of the cubicles. 

“so, how long are we here?” y/n asked. 

“well, it’s three hours of jumping and bouncing-” 

“that’s what she said,” 

“-and then we go out for lunch, and have cheesecake for dessert, and back home, where we can either sleep or do other things if we have more energy,” lando finished. 

y/n smacked his arm, “you better edit that out!” 

“you’re the one with the dirty mind! i just meant we could bake something or have a movie marathon!” 

“you’re lying, you liar!” lando laughed as he ran from y/n’s smack attack. 

grabbing the camera, he ran inside, immediately bouncing and gaining more speed than y/n. but, she wasn’t far behind. though, once she began jumping on the trampolines, her smack attack on lando was quickly forgotten. the couple went through every zone the park had to offer, playing trampoline basketball, jumping into a ball pit, and obstacle courses that were almost everywhere. 

y/n pushed lando often, laughing every time he fell and bounced back. lando returned the favour. they challenged each other to stupid things, like who could jump the highest. 

“it’s not fair! you’re taller than me! of course, you jumped higher than i did!” 

“that sounds like a you problem, lovie!” 

“bitch!”

or, they challenged each other to who could fall the farthest in the ball pit. 

“i totally won!” 

“no, you didn’t! you moved the balls from the sides, so now we don’t know!” 

“oh, quit crying just ‘cause you lost!” 

“you lost!” 

most of the challenges were unfair for y/n, given that lando only proposed the ones that would benefit him, and in her excitement, she wouldn’t realise it until after she lost. she did try to trick him and win, and that worked. lando said it didn’t count, but everyone knew who the boss was. 

“ready? three, two, one, go!” 

“ow, ow, ow, ow,” 

“lovie? you okay? what’s wrong?”

“i think i twisted my ankle,” 

“oh, baby, lemme see,” 

“ha! tricked you!” 

“wha-? hey! no fair!” 

“sorry, can’t hear you from the finish line!” 

their friendly competitions had resulted in red faces shining from sweat, and bright smiles. the day was exactly what they needed, and y/n had plans to show just how grateful she was to lando for planning such a date. they exchanged kisses, played with the other kids in the park, and tried to outdo one another. it made y/n fall more in love with lando. 

the camera facing towards them, lando watched as y/n jumped on a trampoline square behind him, spreading her arms and legs, making a star every time she was in the air. 

“you’re so sweaty,” lando commented as he looked at his girlfriend’s flushed face. 

y/n smirked, “it's because of the jumping around for three hours. as if you could ever make me so sweaty, norris,” 

his mouth fell open as he processed her retort. she laughed at his expression, and began jumping away. lando quickly grabbed her hand and said, “as if i could ever- come on, we’re going home,” 

“what? why? we still have lunch left!” 

“nope. i’m going to show you just how sweaty i can make you,” 

y/n laughed but followed. she wasn’t going to pass on an opportunity like this. she’d never.

lando.jpg

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hi! i tried to make this desi!reader, but i just didn't find a lot of places where i could incorporate that, so i tried my best to stick to a neutral, imagine-what-you-like character. i hope you enjoy this! i've also got a link for my taglist, prompt list, and all of that you can find here!

[itstheval]

Telling the Truth

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why would I?"

"What? We're your-"

"Friends, yes, I know, but think about it. Think, with me. First thing I could tell you is 'We're guaranteed to win'. Cool! Blinding great. Except you'd know that winning was costing me my life. Something that seems to have upset you, even AFTER the fact!"

"Well, yes, that's because it's your LIFE! We didn't…we don't want you to die for us, Siffrin!"

"Even if it meant saving all of Vaugarde?"

"…"

"We did NOT save Vaugarde without that wish. I can tell you that with a straight face. In whatever magic realm of make believe where I don't wish, we're all standing still as statues right now. I knew that as SOON as I knew that I'd made a wish. You don't need that choice in your mind. Especially not when I'm the one who's dying…If I'm the one feeling it, it should be my choice, shouldn't it?"

"Siffrin…"

"You said first thing you could tell us. Implying there were more things." Odile's voice was stern. Cold. Steel. Good, she was the one person who could understand without her heart weeping. Maybe, just maybe, she could convince the others.

"Oh, there were plenty more things to tell you! Like how the end of the King wasn't the end of the loops? How we were trapped here, by whatever this was? Would you want to know that? That every time we won, it was just washed away like a kayak too far at sea?! Or how about everything I'd failed to do, would you want the list of that?"

"Yes."

The word cut through everything else. Her stare was impassive. Almost empty. Somehow, colder than before.

"Well, I didn't want to tell you about it. It was over a dozen loops before I found that out, and can you imagine having…having THIS conversation a dozen times? Two dozen? Watching your heart break every single time? Watching Mirabelle sob, watching Isabeau practically shut down? Just so I could have a scrap of comfort?! Any Siffrin that would do that to you is a Siffrin that wouldn't have wished at all. Any person who would destroy all of you, who would break all of your hearts, just to have two days of understanding, that person's on the path to being the next King."

"Siffrin. This was…" Odile, of all people, having to choose her words carefully. She was close to understanding. She was close to breaking. It was in her pose, her words, her face. "Not a matter of emotions, beyond a certain point. While I believe you, and your kind heart does you credit…You clearly, fundamentally, could only follow one path at a time. If you had shared your knowledge, you could have been done many loops before…We could have helped you."

"No. You couldn't."

"Oh?"

"The books that told the truth? The books that explained how bad I'd blinded myself? Written in a language only I could read! And that was AFTER I killed myself trying to speak it! The wish, to make the Head Housemaiden tell us what happened? None of you could've believed hard enough! Yeah, I could've asked you about staying together…If I'd had any reason, at all, to think that's why I was looping. NOTHING said that! That wasn't the wish I made, I wished to stay with Mirabelle. I could do that even if you all split up. It would've blinding HURT, but I could have! Nothing. Nothing at all you could have done would save me. Not until the end. Not until you DID."

"You have some proof of this?"

A thud. A book, borrowed from the House…stolen, truly, but no one there could read it, and what good was a book no one could read? A book, laying on the ground between them, the sound of it having shocked the other two from their emotional stupors.

"If you can read this…If you can tell me the title of this…I'll admit I was wrong."

Odile's hands were shaking. Odile's hands never shook. Not with the tremors of age, not with exhaustion, but now…With her fingers outstretched to the book, she was trembling. Cautious. Like it would bite her. She picked it up, turned it around, and stared at it.

Her eyes widened. Then narrowed. Flicking across the title. Opening the book, and her eyes darting back and forth. Looking for something, for anything, as even the steel in her soul bent under the weight. Her back hunched, her brow furrowed, and the signs of a headache were obvious.

A flip of the page.

Another.

Then, a scream of rage, as she tossed the book into the campfire, and fell to the ground, clutching her knees. She sobbed. The Madame, the great Odile, unflappable, steel-spined and sharp-eyed, sobbed like a lost child. It felt like the most damning victory imaginable.

"That's why I didn't tell you. How you're feeling right now. I'd do that to you, every time, for NOTHING." They had to understand, by now. Looking around, at the shattered wrecks of the three, hearing sobs and seeing blank-eyed stares, they did.

Now, only now, could the healing actually start. Now that they believed. Now that they knew. Now that they understood what hat happened, and what impossible choices there were to make. Now that it wasn't 'Silly Siffrin got mixed up in emotions, isn't it cute?', now that it wasn't 'We can talk about whatever happened, Feelings Buddy!', now that it wasn't 'Oh, your fee-fees, your ling-lings'.

Loop said to tell them the truth. They knew how much it would hurt when they said it.

Well, let's see how that works.

[episodes-ff]

Grateful Days

Armando

Sitting in my bed, I moped and grimaced at how shitty everything has turned over the past few days. I’m still truly upset about the failed proposal, but more than anything I’m upset with myself for how I handled it. After sobering up, it finally sank in how royally I messed up things. Staring at my phone as I waited for the possibility of her call, I sighed realizing that it was me who should be doing the apologizing. I don’t even know how I could allow myself to say such hurtful things to my heart like that. Shaking my head as I remembered the words, I decided it was high time I be the bigger person and go win my woman back.

Taking a nice hot shower, I collected my thoughts and feelings and came up with a genuine approach of apology. Stepping out, I quickly dried off and began dressing as the panicked nerves set in at the possibility of losing her forever. Pulling on my pants, I stressed looking for a decent shirt before settling on a grey long sleeve and placing on my chain. Making sure I looked presentable and smelled good for her, I started searching for my keys as more hope rose within me. Still looking for my keys, I heard a knock at the front door. “Mike, will you drop it? I already told you I’m fi-“ “Hi.” She spoke not making eye contact as she twiddled her fingers. “Hey, um come in, come in!” I rushed allowing her entry as I straightened up some loose clothes. Taking a seat on the couch, I sat next to her and as she waited awkwardly to speak. “I need to tell you something.” “No, me first.” I insisted taking her hands into mine.

“Diamonté, I am so deeply sorry for what I said to you that night. It replays over and over again and it makes me sick to my stomach that I even uttered something so hurtful to you. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I barely deserve to be in your presence right now, but trust me when I say I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart. I truly regret the decision I made and if you don’t ever want to see me again, I’ll have to find a way to live with it. I just wanted to express that.” I recited as she sat looking down at our hands. Watching her knee bounce nervously, she burst into tears as I hugged her in concern. “Shit, I’m sorry, Dee, I didn’t mean to make you cry, bebita.” I hushed rocking her back and forth in my arms. Sniffling, she wiped her eyes before pulling back to look at me. “Armando, I’m pregnant.” She panted breathlessly as her tears continued to fall.

“You are?” I murmured happily as I took hold of her chin. Nodding, she wiped more of her tears. “I was supposed to tell you that night but when you proposed I got so nervous that I threw up. That’s why I ran off. I meant what I said about my answer being yes.” Holding her cheek in my hand, I smiled kissing her forehead as I started to cry. “You forgive me for being an idiot?” “Yes, you forgive me for not speaking up?” “Of course, baby, come here.” Meeting my lips, we shared a longing and meaningful kiss as I embraced her and rubbed her back. “How far along is the baby?” “I’m not sure yet. The first appointment is in a week.” “Are you excited?” I asked earning her sweet laugh. “Yes, I want a little girl.” She smiled as I coasted my hand across her stomach. “I do too.” I simpered before leaning down to kiss her lips again. “One more question.” I asked nervously. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Armando.” She smirked as I chuckled and went to grab the ring. “Good because you had me waiting long enough to put this on your finger.” I joked as I slid it in place on her left hand. Standing up, she hugged me tightly and kissed me once more making my heart skip a beat. “Now my turn to ask.” “Sí, mi vida?” “Can you please come back home so your son can stop asking where you are?” She huffed as I laughed nodding. “Of course, my baby.”

Terry

“Baby, get up! You’re too heavy for all this!” Anaya whined as I ignored her requests and got more comfortable on top of her. Today is one of my first full days off and I’m taking all the advantage I can get. Baby girl is fed and sound asleep in her crib, the bills are all paid, I’m not on call, and it’s not my night to cook. Yeaaaa, I’m gonna enjoy this. Or at least I had hoped I would. “Terry, get up or so help me God, imma smack you.” “You wouldn’t dare, Anaya.” I groaned deeply as I started to doze off in the soft pillows of her breasts. Feeling a hard sting to the back of my head, I shot her a deadly glare as she cackled. “Don’t give me that look, I told your heavy ass to move. Now get up so I can pee.” She fussed like a proud mama before getting up and twisting hard to the bathroom causing me to laugh. “Stop doing that stank ass walk.” “You love it though.” She countered from the commode as I shook my head.

Shutting my eyes once more, I felt the sweet and supple warmth of sleep taking over my body before being rudely interrupted by Anaya’s antics. “Baeeeee.” She whined grinding on me as I groaned. “Anayaaaa, I’m tryna sleep. Damnnnn.” “Fine, if you don’t love me just say that.” She spat moving to the other side of the bed. Clenching my jaw, I yanked her over to me by her nightgown and hovered over her face. Leaning down to her ear, I caressed her cheek with my hand before gently wrapping it around her throat. “Anaya, this the last time imma say it. I’m trying to get my rest and all this moving around and shit finna piss me the fuck off. I’m asking as nicely as possible, baby, just take a nap with me. Please?” Nodding slowly, I sighed before releasing her neck and cuddling back up to her chest while closing my eyes. “Put me to sleep, Daddy.” She purred softly rubbing my scalp as my eyes shot open.

** HOURS LATER**

“Ouuu, baby, let’s get these! I think they’d go nice with the room.” Nodding groggily, I followed aimlessly as she pointed out different items decorate the house. After putting Anaya to “sleep”, we napped for a good 45 minutes before she got hit with the home decor bug and she insisted that we needed to get supplies to finish the house. We are now three stores deep with no sign of retreat, and Daddy and baby Maya are completely over the experience. “Bae, you’re not even looking!” “Anaya, we have more than enough time to finish the house. Why can’t we just chill today?” Giving me the death glare, I smacked my teeth following her with the cart as she continued to shop. Turning into an aisle, I realized I forgot to grab water for the house and tried excusing myself to go and grab it. “Bae, I gotta grab water, you and Maya gone be okay for a few minutes?” “Yea, baby we’re fine.” “Aight, keep your phone close in case.” Nodding, she kissed me goodbye and I made my way to my destination.

Grabbing what I needed, I headed back to our original aisle before halting as I heard a guy. Peeking around to where they were, I noticed an older man standing too close as Anaya frowned up in anger holding Maya to her chest. “Look I’m not gonna tell you again to back the fuck up.” “We got a problem?” “Nah, young buck, I was just-“ “I believe I was asking her.” “No, it’s fine. He was just leaving.” She said putting Maya in the cart as he huffed in disapproval. “Will you just hear me out?” He asked grabbing her arm when I lost it. Setting the water down, I yanked him off his feet before holding him up to the shelving of the aisles. “Nah, motherfucka, you hear me out!” I seethed as Anaya cried for me to stop. “If you ever set foot near my wife and child again, I fucking promise you it’ll be the last thing you do!” I spat as my blood boiling more and more just thinking about this clown touching my lady.

“Terry, stop! Please! Just put him down.” She pleaded as I glared him down icily. “Gimme one good reason I shouldn’t fuck yo shit up right here.” “She’s my daughter.” He heaved out as I looked at her for confirmation. “He’s my dad, Terry. Just put him down.” Setting him down slowly, I faced her as she rubbed my arms and calmed my anger. “Explain, Anaya.” “He skipped out when I was two years old and it’s been just my mom and I ever since. Apparently he’s been living here in Miami so this run-in was not at all anticipated.” Nodding as I absorbed her words, I further calmed down as we exited the aisle, checked out, and went home. Relaxing day my ass.

Thank y’all for being so patient with me! The scene with Anaya and Terry was inspired by this video so I hope y’all enjoy.

Tags (Based on interactions, if you’d like to be added or removed let me know): @violetmuses @believeinthefireflies95 @brisunique @kaylaahisthebestest- @madxlov3 @armandosbabymama @casualsludgeshoetoad @mauvecherie-writes @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereina @kumkaniudaku @geneziesm @megamindsecretlair @simpledopeme @goldenjasssy @vivaalenaa @playgurlxoxo @ghettogirly @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @tbmotw @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert

[keelt9]

Chapter 11

Masterlist

“Can you please stop looking at me like that?” I feel Lewis eyes on me as he’s in his final touches of putting on his race suit.

Lewis scoff putting his helmet on. “Those clothes cause me shivers.” 

For three days I’ve been wearing Max’s hoodies feeling proud of myself for everytime we cross on the paddock and I get to steal a big smile and red cheeks.

“Goodness gracious, get inside of your car please.” Bono laughs walking to his place giving me a thumbs up and Rosa nods her head. “Drive safe.”

Lewis laughs while walking, but stops abruptly. “Go.” I narrow my eyes. “Go to energy drinks.” 

He didn’t have to tell me twice for I practically ran. “DON’T RUN!” I heard him saying as I switched my passes, I put under the hoodie the Mercedes pass and took out the RB pass. “Just for the qualy!”

It’s the last thing I heard as I turned around and stopped hearing him at all.

I stand outside of the RB building, seeing my watch along with the strong sounds of the engines of the cars. Second time for a surprise?

I’ll wait until I hear the grating noise of 20 cars and screams of the people, the qualy begins.

I barely reached the back door of the Red Bull garage when I found one of the girls on the PR team of Red Bull.

“Hi, Miss. Hamilton, right?” I smile because it’s kind of unusual for someone to call me Miss.

“Y/N.” She smiles, when her eyes recognize the pass of Red Bull. 

“Oh my, no one told us you’ll be with us.” Apparently that's all I need to do because she started typing right away on her phone. “Come in. You should have done it before!”

“Oh, I…” Another girl and a boy found us in the entrance, confused as me.

The other girl smiles at me. “You're coming for Max, right?” Two pairs of eyes turn to her. “She’s wearing a hoodie with a lion in the middle, God!”

The heat on my face made them smile, but they kept it professional, guiding me through the Red Bull garage; when I crossed my path with Jo, he opened his eyes and his mouth speechless.

“You’ll be able to see and hear everything from here.” She gives me headphones and helps to put it on, my lack of use of one arm made simple things  really complicated. “There you go.”

“Thanks, amm…” The girl smiles realizing she didn’t even tell me her name.

“Oh, Diana.” Her smile told me she knows more than I could expect, it won’t take too much for her excitement to betray her. “Max will be moved when he finds out.”

To be honest, I feel nervous in a good way.

The qualy turned out great for Red Bull, 1-2, the excitement in the garage and the clapping with compliments confirms it. 

For my health and avoiding a Lewis heart attack, I remain inside of the garage, a bad hit and more than him will have it. 

My phone started to buzz; at the beginning I thought it would be a phone call but when I saw it, there were endless notifications. Red Bull accounts took a picture of me seeing the qualy with the teasing description of…

<Who is there? 👀> Tagging Mercedes too.

The comment section turns out crazy, a lot of theories appear in less than 5 minutes, most accredit of the good relationship of my brother and Checo still the other half of them already commenting about how “cute couple Max and Y/N  could be.”

Checo came out first from the interviews, apparently taking him the time of walking from that spot until the garage for he knows something.

He found me right away on Max's side. 

“It's too early to cause excitement in people.” He said as he hugged me. “Max could faint…and I believe that's impossible.”

He said walking to his side with a mischievous smile on his face.

I keep playing with my fingers waiting for Max, adrenaline running all over my body.

Something pops up in my mind, I walk to the back of the place where he puts all his stuff, hiding behind the wall.

I heard the fuss of Max coming in, covering my mouth, one of his mechanics saw me but I made a sign of him keeping quiet, I didn't know even if he was laughing at me or with me.

“She's gone.” The frustration of Max is audible.

Diana walks with her cellphone in her hands, to the spot where the mechanic was. “I thought she…” She saw me as I asked the same silence. “She must have things to do. Let's go Max, you have a few things to do.”

I heard him breathing out walking, Diana gives me thumbs up when the cameras won't be able to see us. 

“Boo!” I jump, putting my around his neck in a big hug; Max jumps a little and takes a few seconds for he realized it is actually me.

“You're here.” Max whispered, hiding his face on my neck, both of his arms pulling closer around my waist.

I hiss for the pressure on my arm. “Fuck, sorry, sorry, are you ok?” He asked, split apart looking at my arm.

“For now, this is way too tight to my arm.” I smile at him, when he lifts his eyes I see a sparking blue. 

“Max, sorry, we actually have to go.” Diana said to Max with an apologetic face. 

Max looks at her then at me, I point in Diana’s direction. “Go.” 

Max shutter, we both know there are long hours ahead. 

“I’ll be here.” Max smiles bigger this time. “Go.” I softly push him as he keeps holding my pinky finger until the length of his arm lets him. 

I chuckle feeling a lot of eyes on me, feeling shy of course, but kind of proud, after all I have his eyes on me, and that’s all it matters.

“What are you doing to him?” His main engineer, GP, appears next to me, like Bono, with a bunch of papers and headphones on his neck. “See, he’s walking with a smile to the press conference.”

He didn’t even give me a chance to answer, just kept walking away. As one of the girls told me I would be more comfortable in Max’s room, she offered to take me there with a smile.

As I wait for him I saw the endless tags and comments on the photo of Red Bull, a lot of them give credit my presence to invitation of Checo claiming after all, my brother and him have been racing together for long time; other saying it’s almost impossible put aside the fact for three days I been wearing Max’s clothesline, something more has to be going on there. 

Even I received a text from Rosa and Lewis, I quote. <Let them played a little bit more.>

I let my phone aside, giggling about how many theories could come for just one photo. I see the table where Max has his stuff, an idea appears in my mind. 

I was behind the door when this opened up without a warning hitting my back with the latch. 

Max appears cursing one more time. “Auch, if I knew you'd be trying to leave a bruise on me I would think twice before running here.”

He giggles closing the door, no one else with him. “Sorry, sorry… Did you say running?” I open and close my mouth a couple of times before finding an answer.

“It’s in a figurative way.” Max nods but his smile almost reaches his eyes. 

“Sure.” Instinctively his hands go to my waist softly pulling me closer, resting his forehead on mine, breathing in slowly. “Thanks for being here.” 

I smile, closing my eyes, loving this peace. “I heard from the beginning of Q1.” I opened my eyes and found him staring at me. “That’s unexpected.”

I don’t have any words, any thought more than the realization that all my walls are already crumbling.

“You better savor it because I’m afraid tomorrow I won’t be here.” He raised his eyebrow. “Did someone tell you about the big buzz from a photo? I bet Lewis is going insane.”

Max chuckles. “Yeah, Checo is already bragging about what most of the people think it’s for him.” He splits not taking his hand off my waist, but his jaw is tense.

I couldn't avoid teasing him. “Yes, I mean, it’s good, right?” His eyes turn wide open in disbelief. “You must be focused on the race.”

“What?” I laughed pulling him closer just when he was about to take his hands out of me. 

“I’m joking, I’m joking.” Max tries to put on a serious face. “I’m playing with you. Come on Max! I've been literally appearing around the paddock with you on me.” I point to the lion on the blue hoodie. “Let’s be calm, ok?” 

The idea of going slow it’s not one of his favorites, I already knew that. 

“After all, we are just getting closer to each other.” This time he actually laughs but he couldn’t get me this time when I split because the knock on the door and my phone buzzing at the same time distract us.

Lewis called me saying it's time to go for now and until something comes out from our first, we better take things calmly, like Mika says, baby steps.

After Max finished talking I said goodbye. “I must go, I'll see you later, ok?” I smile at him kissing his cheek; Max nods, kissing my cheek back.

“Take care.” I nod before walking outside of the room.

On my way to the parking lot, I found Lewis, sunglasses on but fighting to keep hiding a smile.

In the car Rosa didn't contain it. “So, you've been having fun all these time, huh?” She smiles at me pointing at Lewis. “Besides other people, I kind of fancy this.”

I scoff putting my sunglasses on. “Still, let’s take things slowly, ok?”

I nod seeing Lewis grab my hand, he’s deep inside supporting me.

Race day I follow Rosa's instructions, most of them. I arrived with Lewis, stayed all the time in Mercedes hospitality; by the time the race was about to start the social accounts dropped an image of both Mercedes cars and me in the background with the description.

<Let them taunt. 😎>

As the cars left the garage, Lewis thumbs up, couldn't miss, making me smile. “Drive safe.”

“So.” Rosa appears taking her headphones on her neck. “Can I?”

She pointed to my sling. “One of the guys who already had a fractured arm told me this must be a little bit high.”

I see my arm, she's right, the 90° on the elbow isn't there. She helps me to put it properly, raising my arm a little bit more and tight the sling.

“Who helps you to dress this morning?” She didn't even look at me and I already choked, making her giggle. “This isn't here yesterday.”

I have a hanky around my wrist, which helps because the friction on that part of my hand is already leaving a small bruise.

“No one.” Rosa smiles but I know her, she won't let go of this easily. “How do you know?”

Max found my note at night, in which I wish him a good race even though I know he won't need it, and ask him to please find me after the race.

He said he couldn't wait and came to my room where we have dinner and talked until he knew he must go to sleep. In a useless attempt to make him leave my room he quickly convinced me to stay, he said I wouldn't even notice when he left earlier in the morning.

At 6 am, I found him deep asleep, my broken arms on his chest and the grip of his hand softly on mine, breathing in so peacefully.

He goes to his room just for his clothes to change and helps me to put the sling on, insisting on putting the hanky when he sees the bruise on my fingers; after he leaves, his team finds him in his room.

“It's amazing to see those sparkling eyes on you.” Rosa smiles, grabbing my face. “But I have work to do, see you later ok?”

The race didn't have any change in the front places, Lewis got to be in fifth place with a good defense against Sainz.

He smiled when saw me standing in the garage. “Hi there, I thought you were already with Max.” He gives his helmet to his team.

“I wanted but if I came back with a bad hit on my arm, this time Mika could make the doctor send me a full rest.” Lewis laughs nodding.

“Without a question. And we have a big meeting next week.” I nod hearing the shouts and screaming two garages away. 

“I'll congratulate him later.” Lewis tosses my hair with a proud smile on his face. “It's not like I've already texted him.”

“All good until those last words.” He complains walking with me to the back of the garage.

Max celebrated with his team and a couple of friends who came to Monza, even invited me, but I was tired and my arm was already sore, so I told him go and have fun, I'll see him in the morning.

That's what he did, around 5 am he knocked on my door.

I opened my eyes half close, he looked so fresh, probably drinking at night. “I didn't mean this hour in the morning.”

Max smiles walking inside, kissing my forehead. “I need, really need you to come with me.”

He grabs my hand pulling me to the bed where we sit as he waits for me to open my eyes. 

“Right now?” I stretch my legs, watching him smile. “Now, now?”

“Now, now, now.” Through the windows you can see full darkness, still I agree when I see him so excited. 

“Ok, I'll go change.” I stand but he grabs my hand, avoiding me to keep walking, I stare at him narrowing my eyes.

“You're beautiful.” His compliment takes me out of guard making me feel shy, my teasing attitude turns into a girl kicking her feet on the ground.

I scrunch my nose removing my hand from his. “EMILIAN!” I walk faster to the bathroom feeling my face burning and Max smiling on the bed.

He drove us to the autodrome, no one was near just security guards, it was a huge place for us.

His finger tingles on mine all the time, with a smirk on his face. 

“We’ll be in trouble.” I said as he walked inside of the paddock, today all the teams came to pack all their stuff.

“We won't.” He smiles at me. “I have contacts around here, you know?” 

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I bet you do.” 

Max laughs softly, but all his body and face let you know he’s so excited about something.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asks and pulls me closer to him.

“How?” I move my shoulder trying to move the bands of the sling which is pressing too tight around my neck.

Max stops helping me to put them properly. “Narrow eyes, and a suspicious smile.” 

I giggle. “Well, you had an amazing weekend, but you, maybe I’m wrong, look more excited now than yesterday.”

“You’ll see.” 

We walked until we reached the track but he took a small shortcut to the left, the dark sky it’s painting with a navy blue now, the sun is about to come out.

Max greets the last security guard we find; a few stairs in front of us, make this more suspicious. We stopped in front of a black door, Max pointed to the door.

“Am, you know I am able to open these kinds of doors alone but…” I raise my broken arm. “Right now it’s really heavy for one arm.”

“Oh, shit, right, sorry.” Max chuckling as push the door for I get “in” 

“What makes you so cheerf…” The sky seems to be right in front of us until you get down your sight a little bit and see the empty seats of the auditorium. It takes one look at my right to realize where we are. “Bloody hell.” 

We’re in the podium, the three places still there and the big screen with three flags on it; in the middle the Dutch, if something could miss, in the highest place, the trophy and the cap of the winner is there.

Like a magnet I walk there fascinate for the view; I been multiple times in front of the podium because my brother, I never imagined I could be in the podium.

I mumbled a few words, unable to form a coherent word. “Whoa.” Max laughs due to my inability to speak and the thrilling emotions on my face. 

“Unbelievable, huh?” Max smirks, knowing I lose my words, I only nod enthusiastically. 

“Can I?” I point to the highest place, probably it’s a lifetime opportunity. 

Max extends his hand. “Please.”

I scream in silence standing on the top, it's higher than I expected, still the sensation up there is out of this world, like you’re the king.

Before I got down Max light on his face with an idea. “Before you get down, do me a favor?”

“You can take a photo of course.” I play with him, taking the cap and putting on my head making him smile.

“Ok, two favors.” I laughed seeing him taking out his phone and taking a few photos of me with the cap on, giggling. 

“I’ll look better with a “no- broken” arm, believe me.” The cap falls down when I lend it to take the trophy.

Inside of the cap there is a red piece of paper. “Hey, I think one of those red papers gets inside of your cap.”

Max grinds. “That’s my second favor.” I raise my eyebrow, as he gives me the cap one more time. “Can you read it?”

“What is between you and the small notes?” I smiled as I took the red paper and unfolded it.

>Girlfriend.

His messy writing related to his shaking hands because of the adrenaline, I see him with my soul melting on the ground. “Turn it around.”

>Be mine.

My smile grows bigger as I sit down, even sitting I barely reached the level of Max face. “You can say n…”

I pull him by his jacket, meeting our lips together in a velvety kiss, takes him a couple of seconds to come out his surprise, his shoulders raise and his hands lift suspended in the air.

When he does, he grabs my face softly deepening the kiss, like pieces of a puzzle our lips match perfectly.

I curse when the lack of air is making us split but even then he does it slowly.

He breathes slowly holding my face, looking me into my eyes and smiling.

“Too slow, now?” I give him a peck on his lips.

“Unbelievable.” He pulled my face closer, giving me another long kiss. “So?” 

I blink, confused. “So?”

Max holds me tight, both hands on my waist as he makes himself a space between my legs for being closer to me, biting his lip, he leans down, but he doesn't kiss me one more time, he takes the cap and puts it over my head one more time.

“Do you want to be mine…” He stops as a smile keeps growing big on my face and his blue eyes make me feel shy. “My girlfriend, I mean.”

I clear my throat trying to put myself together one more time. “You wake me up even when it is dark outside, drive us until here, literally help me to stand and kiss on the podium as if I'm the winner.” I look at his back, the sun starts to come up and the sky isn’t anymore dark blue, now a soft yellow and a lot of orange is clearly seen. 

But my eyes keep coming back to that dazzling blue in front of me. “With that view.” Max's face is now red. “There are a lot of reasons to say no.” 

He moves his eyes all over my face, a glimpse of fear. “I..”

“Still, I just need one to say yes.” I hold his arm tight. “You.” 

Max smiles and leans to finally kiss me one more time, however with the cap on, it’s kind of uncomfortable, I split taking off from my head and putting on him backwards. 

“So, so much better.” Max chuckled as I pulled him to kiss me one more time and he tightened his grip on my waist, feeling his smile on my face.

A little bit of speed wasn’t that risk after all.

[jaaklops]

so. the s2 intro sure is something huh

i was rewatching it and i found a LOT of symbolism in just the shots alone and im not good at analyzing so be warned

spoilers for s2 act 1 ahead! now you’ve been warned for that too

so first we start off with vi and jinx. vi rubs off the tattoo on her cheek or smudges something on it; she’s losing herself/her real self is buried in the grief and anger she feels after losing jinx during the battle, and now losing caitlyn. vi remains sitting, lingering in her emotions, while jinx stands up, and i read this as her standing up to be the new symbol zaun needs like sevika told her. vi, with her head down, is left behind while it focuses on jinx

new shot to ekko. he’s still. not moving. he’s off in the distance, not really involved at the time. he is standing in the other side of where jinx was,, maybe this signifies how far apart they are now??

second picture, he’s more active, he’s up front. it doesn’t seem like hes a major part right now but when things start to pick up he’s going to be involved

i honestly don’t know about this one but if you have any clue than do assist

cut to viktor. he’s in a cloak, picking up and holding a plain white mask. he’s becoming this god like figure who can heal the suffering (those who don’t show their true faces..the mask?) and he believes this is his new destiny. there’s light from above

later in the intro he is about to put on the mask/looking more closely at it. by now the light is gone, and it’s only coming from the mask. maybe he puts all his motivation into taking the suffering away from these people and that’s all he can see..and then jayce steps in.

(jayce/viktor’s arcs are still gonna be close together even though viktor leaves)

cut to ambessa. her face is covered by darkness and its overall just a bit dim. she’s holding a black rose and black petals are behind her. she makes no move to pick them up, instead leaving the mess for someone else. she planned the attack at the memorial in secret, and she gives power to caitlyn when in reality she’s the one pulling the strings.

in this she’s relaxed, and it looks suspiciously similar to a painting i’ve seen before but i DON’T KNOW WHICH ONE omg

cut to caitlyn. she’s almost entirely shrouded in darkness, with the exception of a bit of light in front of her face. she looks down, away from it, and she looks almost annoyed by it—her spiral into madness(i think we can call it that?)

her back is facing what looks like a curtain, and then she looks up, as if facing an unseen crowd, much more pulled together than what she was just a second ago. signifies her pulling herself together to lead piltover.

assuming it’s a stage though, shouldn’t she be at the front?

it’s very…very. that the shot of ambessa and this shot of caitlyn were put right next to each other ykyk

gonna be so honest i have no idea what this one could mean…very vague

intimidating shot of ambessa holding a black rose—the rose is the focus, while ambessa’s face is blurred. perhaps symbolizes piltover and how they’re in ambessa’s hands, not whoever the piltovians think is leading them. of course they don’t really know that, and they probably won’t until later in the season

MELLL ok for a while i too wondered what some of that even meant but then i was like WAIT.

in the first picture mel is surrounded by hands we only see in shadows. this is maybe to communicate the pressure mel feels from her mother and how it’s closing in on her all at once/she’s struggling to come to terms with everything thats happened, and now she has to deal with ambessa scheming and she wants to dismantle it, since she knows first hand just how ambessa is and she doesn’t want piltover to face the same fate

in the second picture, she’s breaking free from the hands around her and standing up for herself/fighting back

in the third picture she finds herself where ambessa once was. there’s much more light here, and the black rose (maybe still symbolizing piltover?) lays beside her. the black petals ambessa left behind are going away with the wind..l ambessa is defeated

cut to jinx again. she’s becoming fully realized as the new symbol of zaun, one that neither vander nor silco could be. waving the flag even though it looks just a tad too big for her

pretty self explanatory. caitvi’s arc

unless?

in the first picture it almost looks like vi’s staring into a mirror but no, they’re standing right in don’t of each other. neither vi nor caitlyn can see each other eye to eye, with both of each other’s emotions flying

they come to embrace but they almost seem to be thrown apart by an invisible force or pulled away from each other. so close to understanding each other but so far at the same time

ok now this i LOVE this one. see on another post that the second picture is a reference to macbeth and i just MWAH.

also pretty self explanatory..caitlyn’s arc

first picture, she’s spiraling absolutely losing her shit. pretty close to what we saw in act 1 except we were never showed it to this degree. a mental picture. she’s trying to pull everything together so she can be the leader she’s been appointed to be but she just can’t

second picture is said macbeth reference. also symbolic to her being blinded by her tunnel vision of revenge. she’s grieving you guys :(

third picture, her eyes are open and she’s looking at us like she knows something she didn’t before. it’s a realization and it’s definitely gonna be something surprising

—

hoo boy that was a doozy

honestly guys i do not know how to analyze well so i will say now that this sucked☠️but its been bouncing around in my head for a little so maybe someone can see this and make something wayyyy better with it

and besides its early in the season so this is probably all wrong😭

[mycupofrum]

In the middle

Pairings: James/Sirius, James/Sirius/Lily

Rating: Explicit

Summary: No one ever told him what it was like to meet your best friend three days after he joined you and your wife in bed.

No one ever spilled the beans about the internal crisis he'd be experiencing later.

A threesome that changed everything for them. Now James and Sirius will have to deal with the tension that arose from that night.

A/N: For @narcissa-black-supermacy who gave me this idea a while ago. This is what I came up with. :D It's mostly Prongsfoot with some Jilypad flavour. Very smutty smut. Hope you enjoy it!

Snippet under the cut.

The refrigerator hums in the corner of the kitchen as James escapes from the awkward moment he just had with Sirius in the living room.

Or, when Lily said, "I think you two should talk," before abruptly Flooing away with a roar of green flame to catch up with Mary in the Leaky Cauldron. Leaving them alone. Staring at one another. Aware of each other in a new way.

All Sirius had to do was raise his brow, a gesture he's honed to perfection over the years they've known each other.

This time it suggested what now?

James couldn’t stand it.

No one ever told him what it was like to meet your best friend three days after he joined you and your wife in bed.

No one ever spilled the beans about the internal crisis he'd be experiencing later.

"Are you all right, James?" Sirius asks, having followed James to the kitchen.

"Of course," James says, staring at the pots, pans and other dishes that need to be washed. He rolls up his sleeves, places the plug into the sink and turns on the tap. After a splash of washing up liquid, he watches the foam form as if it were one of the great wonders of the world.

"It's admirable how much you care about keeping the kitchen clean."

The dry remark makes James determined not to turn around.

Seconds pass with only the sound of running water filling the room.

"Are you avoiding me because of the other night?"

"I – no. Of course not. It's what Lily wanted. She very much enjoyed it." James turns off the tap. Fuck. He doesn't want to talk about this.

"But you didn't?" Sirius is dissecting James's problem question by question, like he always does when faced with an issue to solve.

"I didn't say that," James mutters. He picks up the sponge and begins to wash the dried up tomato sauce from the pan. It was Lily's idea to invite Sirius over for dinner that night, and they enjoyed an excellent pasta Bolognese before she mysteriously left.

"Or maybe it bothers you because you did enjoy it?"

James drops the sponge into the sink and huffs as he searches for it through the foam.

"I don't understand. Why would it bother me? Nothing bothers me. I'm perfectly fine." He finds the sponge again and starts to scrub the pan vigorously.

"You don't like the implication."

Sirius always knows exactly where James's train of thought is going, and it's times like these when James truly wishes his best friend didn't know him so well.

"There's no implication."

"Really?" Sirius's voice is softer now. "One woman and two men. There's an implication. You do the math."

"I'm not –" James says, unable to finish the sentence. He rinses the pan, sets it aside to dry, and stands stiffly, clutching the kitchen counter.

"I'm not into blokes." There, he said it. It's what he's been telling himself over and over again for the last few days. It makes sense.

"Neither am I," says Sirius, approaching James from behind.

A moment later, hands come on the counter beside James, and a warm body leans against him. Sirius's breath tickles James's neck, giving him goosebumps.

"Not much anyway," Sirius murmurs.

James's heart jumps at that.

"Not much?" he repeats, his throat dry like sand.

"Sometimes I make exceptions." Sirius speaks in a low tone that rattles something inside James.

Read more on AO3.

[janebonbon]

Alright, Let's talk

I've had some time to digest everything about the election and hearing all the talk surrounding it. I was, and am devistated as to where things stand now for a Trump presidency. However... My gut tells me this is not over. Whether that means election fraud or tampering, boycotts and protests, or more legal trouble for the big orange. It's not over. Things are far too quiet, and we are in the eye before the storm. Notice how EXTREMELY quiet Trump is this time around. He hasn't been boasting and gloating and unsufferably hard to ignore. There is something going on, and I think he is very nervous.

However. That does not erase the threat of everything Trump stands for. If anything, this has shown us the threat in front of us. My family is Polish, I have grown up Polish. Why is that relavant? Talk about world war two was almost a constant growing up. Most people associate Poles with WW2 anyway, so I learned a lot. I learned a lot about facism, nazis, eugenics, and the psychology of complacancy that led to the holocaust.

Around 2016, at the fresh age of 14, my mother and I went to the Zekelman Holocaust Museum in Michigan. I urge you too look at or read about some of their exhibits here. This is where my mother and I were first able to completely face the fact of what Trump was doing. There was an exhibit showcasing the 10 stages of genocide. We are now currently at stage 7. Project 2024 has thrust us there. I worry deeply about what project 2024 has shown us. What that means for every single women, the LGBTQ+ community, our immigrant communities, our disabled communities.

Even if there is no internment camps like in the holocaust, I worry about escalations. I am terrified of history repeating. I refuse to be complacant in that, and I urge you not to be as well. I urge you to prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. Be proactive in measures for the future.

Especially if you are a woman, I am telling you to buy Plan B now. Travel state lines if you have to. Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years. If not for yourself, do it for a friend, family member, or someone you care about. Even if you are not sexually active, you never know what is going to happen or who might need it.

If you have any period tracking apps, they need to go NOW. Flood it with misinformation if you are able, change past entries before you delete it. Stick to putting that information to pen-and-paper where your data will not be taken by the government and used agaisnt you.

If you are able to, please apply for a passport or renew yours if you haven't already, the sooner the better. It can take a lot of time for them to get processed, so do this first. If you are financially unable to pay for a passport, you may be eligable to apply with a fee waiver. In case you feel unsafe and just want to leave the country for whatever reason may happen, I feel it is extremely important to have.

Download Signal. It has end-to-end encryption that will keep you and those same people you care about safe. I also suggest turning off notification previews even on apps like Signal, as I am told that they can be un-encrypted. If you value your privacy for conversations with your trusted people, you need to do it on something that is end-to-end encrypted.

If you are able and feel safe to, build a community network. Anyone you believe can be trusted, talk to them now about your fears and come up with a plan for worst-case scenerios. Reach out to others that have the same fears as you. Talk to your trusted friends and family members. You are not powerless. You have strength in numbers. If not to help you feel safety, but to give you hope and laughter in hard times. It does not and will not mean that the world is not dire, but you need to still stay sane.

Save important doccuments now. Not on pinterest or in a TikTok bookmark. Download. That. Shit. Don't have the computer space? Get a hard drive. A USB. Fuck it, a CD. Can't download important information? Write it down on physical paper. You have options. Even if it doesn't get taken offline, archiving and saving important things is extremely important anyway. Anything important to you, save. I am worried about books and important information being lost. Get physical copies if you are able. Find ways to download them in PDF or similar formats. Music? Save it. Maybe I'm being too wary, but you will have no idea what is going to go until they start doing it.

[frumfrumfroo]

Breaking News: The Acolyte has been canceled.

DLF: OH NAUR!!! The reylos are watching and are hornier than eva! Gotta shut this down ASAP!

Me: Wow, I didn’t see that one coming! 🙃😒

Yeah, who could have possibly foreseen this totally unexpected turn of events etc. etc.

This, among so many others, is the reason you don't give them another chance. They have been very clear about what audience they value and what their priorities are. Even if they do hire people who are actually interested in storytelling, the corporation is just going to fuck those people and their stories over because they don't care about the integrity of the franchise or building something long term. They want instant record profit with minimum commitment and to constantly placate the FM manchildren. That's it.

[cheekblush]

lmaoooo found out today that my 2 “colleagues” (that’s honestly a too nice of a word for them) complained about me to our boss that apparently i don’t work hard enough and often just sit around doing nothing :)

[anothermonikan]

Man high school was fucked up. You ever think about that. Thank fucking god I'm not in high school anymore

[d1stalker]

Suspension Bridge Effect [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

Warnings: mainly Logan POV, jealousy, cuteness, fem!reader WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

----

Logan’s losing it; his thoughts are spiralling to the point where he wonders if he should be locked up.

At least, that’s what he thinks is happening as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. You’re standing near the edge of the mansion's garden, laughing softly as the kid—Johnny, a younger teenage mutant—tries to hand you a bouquet of hastily picked flowers. His face is flushed, eyes wide with admiration, and he’s practically vibrating with nervous energy as he looks up at you.

This punk, this moron, this lovesick blockhead, has been glued to your side ever since you saved him during the last mission.

It was supposed to be a standard run-of-the-mill rescue operation, but when things went south, and he was cornered, you swooped in like the hero you are and got him out unscathed. Now, the kid’s been following you around like a lost puppy, trying to win your attention, your approval—your everything. And it’s infuriating.

Logan can feel his hands clench into fists as he watches Johnny offer you the worst attempt at a bouquet he's ever seen, and sees the youngster's face turning a deeper shade of red as he mumbles something the older man can’t quite hear. Probably some dumb compliment, he thinks bitterly. The kid’s got no game.

You smile at Johnny. It's that soft, kind smile that always makes Logan’s heart skip a beat. But this time, all it does is fuel the fire raging within. He knows that smile isn’t just for him, but damn it, he wishes it were.

He wishes you’d tell the kid to scram, that you’re already spoken for, that you have a lovely boyfriend who could put together a way better bunch of flowers, but instead, you take the flowers with a gentle laugh, thanking the goblin like he’s just handed you a priceless treasure.

And somehow, the torment is never ending, it seems. Because later in the day he find’s himself lurking at the doorway of the mansion library, watching as you and Johnny sit together, heads bent over some book he know knows the little gremlin is just pretending to be interested in. That brat is soaking up every second of your attention, hanging on your every word, and it’s driving Logan up the wall.

“He’s just a kid,” you keep saying whenever he grumbles about it, but you don’t see it. You don’t see the way the bastard’s eyes light up whenever you smile at him, or how he leans in just a little too close when you’re explaining something to him. You don’t notice the small touches—the way his hand lingers on your arm when he’s pulling you somewhere, the way he looks at you like you’re the centre of his universe.

Logan sees it all, because he’s been there before. He knows exactly what Johnny’s feeling because he felt the same way when he first met you. Still does. It's that intense, all-consuming crush that makes you do stupid things just to be near the person you can’t stop thinking about.

“Logan, you’re staring,” Jean’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he turns to see her smirking at him from across the hallway.

“I’m not starin’. Just keepin’ an eye on things,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’re jealous.”

He scowls at her. “I ain’t jealous of some kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you just talk to her about it?”

Clenching his jaw, he knows she’s right but not wanting to admit it. “She doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s cute.”

“Maybe if you told her how you’re feeling, she’d understand,” Jean suggests gently, though there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

Huffing and turning away from the library, Logan has decided that he’s had enough of standing on the sidelines. He needs to do something before he loses his mind entirely. But it seems he can’t escape this torture, because he can’t even get five minutes alone with you.

He tried to get your attention after you finished up teaching your class, but before he could, the little devil ran in front of him and got it first. His eye twitches as he watches Johnny offer you another “gift,” this time a poorly folded paper crane. You take it with a smile, thanking him kindly, and Logan grits his teeth so hard he swears his molars might shatter.

“Hey, kid,” He grumbles, stepping forward with a growl in his throat that would send most people running. “Don’t you got somewhere else to be?”

Johnny looks up, momentarily startled by the sharp tone, but then just gives a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. “Uh, no, sir. I was just, um, hanging out with her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s got things to do. Don’t you, darlin’?” Logan’s eyes flicker to you, hoping you’ll catch the hint and send the kid on his way.

But you don’t. You just laugh. A musical sound that makes him want to clamp his hand over your mouth because why should that devil's spawn get to hear your beautiful voice? He’s truly about to lose it. 

“It’s fine, babe. Johnny’s just being sweet.”

Sweet. Logan wants to snort. Sweet is one word for it. Obnoxious, irritating, and clingy are a few others that come to mind.

“You got a crush or somethin’, boy?” His tone is laced with a dangerous edge as he crosses his arms over his chest, towering over the knucklehead. He’s trying not to outright scare him, but damn, he’s close to it.

Johnny turns beet red, stammering, “N-no, I just… she saved me, and I just wanted to say thank you, that’s all!”

Narrowing his eyes, a low snarl rumbles from his chest, and Logan takes a deliberate step forward, but before he can do more, you place a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Logan, that’s enough,” you say firmly, giving him a pointed look. 

Well, there goes another piece of his sanity.

You’re too kind, too understanding. You just don't get it. To you, it’s just an innocent crush, something harmless, something that makes you smile. You think it’s nothing, and that only makes his blood boil more.

“Fine,” he finally mutters, stepping back, though his eyes never leave the teenager’s. Johnny seems to take that as some kind of begrudging acceptance and gives you another shy smile before scurrying off, likely to find the next token of his gratitude to bring to you.

Once he’s gone, Logan lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is drivin’ me nuts, you know that?”

You just chuckle again, stepping closer to him and slipping your arms around his waist. “It’s just a phase, I’m sure. He’ll get over it.”

Wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in close, he feels a little bit better in your embrace, but his eyes still track where Johnny disappeared into the mansion. “He better. ’Cause if he doesn’t, I might lose my damn mind.”

You tilt your head up, kissing his jaw softly. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

He huffs, not wanting to admit it, but the truth is written all over his face. “Maybe a little.”

Smiling, you lean up to kiss him properly. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Logan kisses you back, a little more possessively than usual, as if to remind himself that you’re his. And even as you melt into him, he can’t help but keep one eye open, scanning the garden for any sign of that kid returning. He might be crazy, but he’ll be damned if he lets some lovestruck teenager get between him and the woman he loves.

—

The next morning, the mansion is buzzing with its usual activity. You and Logan head to the dining hall for breakfast, with him looking a little more relaxed after a night of holding you close. But the moment you step into the room, he spots a certain demon sitting at a table, eyes locked on you as if he’s been waiting for this very moment.

Groaning under his breath, Logan mutters, “Not again,” before guiding you to a table near the windows, hoping Johnny won’t follow.

You take your seat, smiling up at your boyfriend as he pulls out his chair, and for a brief second, he dares to believe that he might actually get to enjoy a quiet breakfast with you. But just as he’s about to sit down beside you, Johnny swoops in out of nowhere, plopping down in Logan’s seat with a grin like he’s just won the lottery.

“Morning!” He chirps, completely oblivious to the thunderous look on the other man’s face.

Freezing in his place, Logan glares at the kid who’s now sitting where he was supposed to be. He mentally cycles through a list of unflattering nicknames—Useless Idiot, Captain Obnoxious, Motherfu—but none of them seem quite strong enough to capture his current feelings. “You’re in my seat, kid.”

Johnny blinks up at him, feigning innocence. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t see your name on it.”

You can practically see the self-control it takes for Logan not to pick the kid up and toss him across the room. His fingers twitch at his sides, his claws itching to come out, but he holds back. For your sake, and only your sake.

“Johnny,” you start, trying to keep your voice gentle but firm, “you do know he is my boyfriend, right? And even if he wasn’t, I’m a bit too, uh, old for you?”

The young mutant's eyes widen, and for a split second, you think you might have gotten through to him. But then he glances over at Logan, his face scrunching up like he’s just eaten something sour.

“Yeah, but he’s, like, hella old,” The idiot blurts out, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as if the mutant standing right there can’t hear every word.

Logan’s expression darkens, a storm brewing in his eyes as his jaw tightens to the point where you can almost hear his teeth grinding. Hella old? Is this guy serious?

He's dealt with all kinds of enemies—mutants, monsters, government assassins—but nothing, nothing has tested his patience like this hellspawn has been. “What did you just say?” he growls menacingly.

Johnny, either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, doesn’t back down. “I mean, no offense, but you’ve got a lot of… uh, experience, you know? And you’re like centuries old. Maybe she needs someone closer to her age.”

That’s the last straw. Logan’s eyes flash with anger and something else—something more vulnerable that you rarely see. A part of him knows the gremlin’s just talking out of his ass, but the words hit a little too close to home, stirring up old insecurities he usually keeps buried deep.

Without another word, he slams his hand down onto the table, the sound echoing through the dining hall like a gunshot. The room falls into stunned silence as he then storms out, his footsteps heavy and his anger radiating off of him in waves. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t acknowledge the whispers that follow in his wake. He just needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

“Logan, wait—” you call after him, but he’s already halfway out the door.

You turn back to Johnny, who’s now looking a little less confident and a lot more like he might have made a mistake. Sighing, you lean forward with a serious expression. “You can’t just say things like that. He’s not just my boyfriend. He’s the person I love.”

Looking down at the table, his face falls, and he begins fiddling with the napkin in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make him mad. I just thought—You saved me and I felt something…I thought maybe you’d feel something for me too.”

You soften, reaching out to pat his hand. “Johnny, you’re a sweet kid, but you’ve got to understand that Logan’s the one I’m with, and no one can replace him.”

He nods slowly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. “I get it,” he mumbles. “I just…”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “You’ll find someone your own age who’s perfect for you. But for now, you need to give us some space, okay?”

Johnny nods again, this time more resolutely. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Just… try not to instigate anything else. I’ll go talk to him.” You give him one last reassuring smile before heading toward the exit.

When you step out into the hallway, you barely have a second to process your thoughts and decide where to look before you’re suddenly pressed up against the wall. A gasp escapes your lips, but it’s quickly swallowed by Logan’s mouth on yours. The surprise melts away as the intensity of his kiss overtakes your senses, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

His kiss is possessive and fierce. You can feel the frustration, the jealousy, the need to claim what’s his, pouring out of him with every movement of his lips against yours. For a moment, you lose yourself in the heat of it, letting the world around you fade as you focus solely on him.

Then, through the haze of the kiss, the practical part of your brain kicks in. You pull back just enough to murmur against his lips, “Logan… we’re gonna get caught.”

He growls softly, his lips trailing down to your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Let them see,” he mutters between kisses. “Maybe then that damn dunce will get the hint.”

You laugh, though the sound is cut off as he captures your lips again, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid to let go. “Babe, really,” you whisper, trying to sound serious but failing as your body responds eagerly to his touch. “People are gonna see…”

“I don’t care,” he grumbles, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear, making you involuntarily shiver against him. “Shoulda thrown that little shit out on his ass… let him know who you belong to.”

“You’re jealous of a teenager,” you tease, though the words come out breathless and almost lost in the intensity of the moment.

Logan pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark. “Don’t like him sniffin’ around you, thinkin’ he’s got a shot.”

You smile up at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him back down for another kiss. “You don't need to feel threatened by him. You’re the only one I want.”

He huffs softly, his lips brushing against yours as he mutters, “Damn right I am.”

“C’mon,” you murmur, gently pushing against his chest. “Let’s go somewhere a little more private, huh?”

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes flickering back toward the dining hall, as if half-expecting Johnny to come barreling out any second. But then he nods, taking your hand and leading you down the hallway, away from prying eyes. His grip on your hand is tight, territorial, and you can’t help but smile as you follow him.

As you walk together, you give his hand a squeeze. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly.

“I love you, you know that?” You say it with that pretty grin of yours, and the way his eyes warm in response makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “I love you too.”

The remaining tension melts away, leaving just the two of you walking hand in hand, ready to steal a few more precious moments together.

----

A/N: this was really fun to write!

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley.

Simon Riley masterlist

1. First off he hates the word ‘boyfriend’.

Maybe it’s because he’s in his mid thirties or something but he can’t stand being called your boyfriend. He’s more than that but also not at the same time. You live together, have access to each other’s bank accounts (which is only because he hates it when you try to fight him about him giving you money), and you’re each others emergency contact. He thinks of himself as your husband. The man wears a silicone ring when he’s home and a necklace with the ring that’s totally not a wedding band when he’s working. Price has seen the chain once or twice and smirks, shooting him a knowing look but never says a word.

Simon cannot stand it when people get nosy and want to know what your relationship status is. You’re together and that’s all that matters. No one needs to know that you’re the beneficiary of his will and life insurance policy or that he’s put you on all of his accounts. No one needs to know that he buys you anything you want but has only ever bought you two rings; a thin gold band with a flower engraved on it and its twin a matching emerald ring. No one needs to know that when he gifted them to you, there were tears and promises of safety, love, and happiness whispered against feverish skin. No one needs to know that he has your name woven into his chest tattoo.

No one needs to know any of that because your relationship is between him and you only.

2. You are not some submissive little house wife. You are a strong independent woman and he prefers it that way.

I know this one goes against what most people say but hear me out on this. Simon has been independent since birth practically. He’s only had himself to count on for years. Even in the military, he’s only been able to rely himself. Sure the others watch out for him but if it came down to it, he’s the only one who’s going to get himself out alive.

The thought of someone else relying on him in that way is terrifying. He can’t even fathom what it would be like to look at another person and fully trust them in that way. Half the time he feels like he can’t even be trusted to take care of himself let alone another human. In theory a sweet docile housewife is great with the meals and clean house but not for him. He needs to know that you can hold your own. He needs to know that you can be independent and carry on without him if something happened while he was working. He needs to know that you will be okay if he doesn’t come back.

You have to be okay without him no matter how much it pains him to think about it.

Like I said before, he’s made you the beneficiary of everything so he knows you’ll be set financially but that’s not enough. He’s made Price promise to keep an eye out for you. He’s made you promise to let Price do that and you agreed because it’s Simon who’s asking but you’d tell anyone else to fuck off.

In addition to all of that, he’s installed the best security system the government has to offer in your house. You have a very expensive and large safe in your shared closet that he’s instructed you to only open if you feel unsafe. While you might not like it, you agree to go shooting with him so he can sleep at night knowing that you could protect yourself if he’s not home. He’s gone as far as to make sure you have all of the licenses and certificates that are needed to legally own firearms in the UK.

He’s not leaving any opportunity for you to be vulnerable or have your ‘safety checks’, as he calls them, taken away.

3. Simon Riley is a godless man…until he meets you.

Now this is entirely my own headcannon with no evidence to support it so bear with me.

Simon had a shitty childhood where his mom would pray to a god who never listened and his dad would shout verses at him when he was drunk. God was a mythical figure that he was told stories off with nothing to show for it. He did believe at one point but then his dad never got better, his mom wore bruises of every shade, and his brother found comfort in drugs.

He found himself praying when he was being tortured by the Mexican cartel. Between the flashbacks of his abusive past, he prayed to a god who had failed him so many times before to help him. He prayed again as he dug himself out of that Texas grave with the major’s jaw bone. He wailed his prayers when he found his family executed after Sparks tried to kill him.

After that he deemed himself a Godless man. Years of praying had passed with nothing. This god had decided that Simon was not worthy of a miracle so why would he continue to worship him?

That was until he met you. He finds himself praying before every mission, every time he has to leave you, every time he’s on his way home, and just about any other time he thinks of you. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s praying for other than for you to be there when he gets back.

He whispers his prayers to an absent god against your skin as he worships your body, soul, and heart. He promises to be devoted to you until his last breath and vows to find you again in whatever afterlife awaits you. He pledges to find solace in you and only you when his haunting nightmares return. He makes an oath to your heart that it will never weather another storm alone again for his will take whatever beating that comes your way. He shows you that he will love you in the same manner as a Hozier song; putting you above all else because you have become his religion, his faith, his beliefs, his life.

You have become all that he is and he thanks the god he once believed in for you. He prays again but to you, his heart, his love, and his beacon through the enteral storm of life.

[luveline]

hi!!! i have a request for roommate!spencer where he's injured during a case and reader show up at the hospital because she's his emergency contact but the team is really confused wondering who's this stranger fussing over spencer. hope you like it, love you!

thank you for requesting honey!! love you<3 fem!reader

“Close your eyes,” you command, voice all blown up and grand, already smiling. “Close your eyes, Spencer.” 

“No.” He squints groggily. “What are you doing?” 

“Close your eyes.” 

“No, Y/N, what are you doing?” he asks. 

You shake your spray bottle at him. He sighs a long-suffering sigh and finally admits defeat, his tired eyes shuttering closed all too easily. You rest your knee on the side of his bed and hear the metal squeaking at your added weight, your hand gentle as you cover his forehead. “You have greasy hair,” you say sympathetically. “This is gonna feel much nicer.” 

You blast him with dry shampoo, his brown hair turning white with powder. You drop the can in his lap and set about rubbing the powder into his hair until the grease is soaked up, and his hair feels less miserably lank. 

“When are they gonna let you shower again?” you ask quietly. 

You’re still touching his hair. More for him than you, you hope he feels comforted, but mostly you just wanna affirm to yourself that he’s all in one bruised piece. Your heart still aches as much as it did when you got the phone call in the first place —Spencer Reid’s next of kin? 

You suppose that’s you. 

“I don’t know.” 

You take his hair back into his current parting. “Well, let’s hope it’s soon. How are you liking the sponge baths? Are they awful?” 

“Humiliating.” 

Just outside of Spencer’s hospital room, Hotch and JJ stand together with a bag of essentials. They’d drawn to a sudden stop when they realised Spencer had company. “Who is that?” she asks. 

Hotch, used to knowing everything, frowns very deeply. He doesn’t know who you are, but from the way you’re touching Spencer’s hair and face, he should. 

JJ sounds a little put out. “She doesn’t work here.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Hotch says. His frown lightens as you laugh and scratch Spencer’s hair back behind his ears. 

“Is it unkind of me to think he didn’t have any friends?” JJ asks. 

Hotch knows Spencer has friends. He’s summoned Spencer from chess games and fan clubs, picking him up occasionally on the way to the office on cafe sidewalks as he waved goodbye to a glasses-wearing bibliophile, often in coats too big for them or with hair in need of a trim. Spencer attracts the unconventional because he, as anybody in this line of work tends to be, is inordinary. So JJ probably is being unkind, but Hotch knows what she means. 

You look completely regular. You settle on one thigh on his bed while the other keeps you up and put your hand on his chest, chatting breezy words they can’t hear through the glass.

Spencer curls into you slowly. 

“You’ll be home soon,” you say, rubbing his shoulder, “don’t worry.” 

Hotch’s eyebrows rise of their own accord. He and JJ excuse themselves for coffee before they’re spotted, and when they return, you’re gone. “Spence, who was that girl?” JJ asks. Hotch notes the slightest line of jealousy tugging under her curiosity. 

He sounds as though he could use some more pain medication, and a good night's sleep, but he’s proud as he says, “That’s my roommate. I told you about her.” 

“Ah, your roommate,” Hotch says. 

“What’s that mean?” Spencer asks. 

“Nothing, Spencer,” Hotch says, using the young man’s first name in a rare show of affection. “That’s just an irregular word for it. I haven’t heard it in a while.” 

JJ laughs. Spencer hides his face with both hands, a smudge of lip balm on his hand shining under the stark hospital fluorescents. “I’m too tired,” he complains. 

Hotch hadn’t seen you kiss him, but he can imagine how it might have happened, how you’d leaned in for a kiss on the cheek goodbye and Spencer overwhelmed himself thinking about it. Or maybe it’s just an innocuous smudge. Maybe it’s nothing at all. 

“We live together,” Spencer mumbles. “I couldn’t afford to live by myself at first, it’s D.C.” 

“And now?” Hotch asks. He knows Spencer is on good enough money to afford an apartment by himself these days, a big one. He has no dependents. 

“Didn’t seem fair… She’s nice. She’s, like, my best friend.” 

“Don’t let Morgan hear you say that,” JJ laughs. 

Hotch isn’t sure she gets it, but he does. “Well, you can ask her to come back. We have work to do.” 

Spencer pretends he’s hesitant to pick up the phone. Your reply is an immediate beep. Hotch knows a good friend when he sees one. 

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~