#*if i could handle going through all /that/ again
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La Regina
Happy Nation: A Series of Standalone Fics
Charles Leclerc x Schumacher!Reader
Summary: a girl raised at her father’s knee goes from rising star to princess to queen (or in which becoming a legend runs in the Schumacher family)
You bounce excitedly in the passenger seat of your papa’s car as he pulls into the parking lot of the karting track. At 5-years-old, you’re too young to race officially, but he promised to let you drive some practice laps after the scheduled competition today.
“Remember, Maus, listen closely to the instructors and stay safe out there,” Michael says, ruffling your hair affectionately before getting out.
You scramble out after him, having to jog to keep up with his long strides across the parking lot. You reach to take his hand, but freeze when a small crowd starts converging around your papa. Men in bright vests are rushing over, cameras flashing rapidly.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” You ask, startled by the commotion.
Before Michael can respond, a curly-haired woman thrusts a baby into his arms. “Oh my god, can you just hold her for one second? I need a picture!”
Your papa looks bewildered but graciously cradles the infant, giving an awkward smile as more and more people start shoving pieces of paper and pens in front of him.
“Excuse me, please, I have my daughter with me today,” he tries saying over the chaos, but no one is listening.
You shrink back, overwhelmed by the pushing crowd and flurry of voices pleading for autographs and photos. Where did all these people come from? This has never happened before when you’ve gone karting with your papa.
Sensing your unease, Michael gently passes the baby back to its mother and kneels down in front of you. “Hey, it’s okay, Maus. Why don’t you wait for me over there?” He gestures to a bench off to the side.
Part of you wants to cling to him, scared of all the strangers crowding around so aggressively. But you also don’t want him to have to worry about you on top of everything else. You nod bravely and make your way through the throng to the little bench, watching apprehensively as your papa tries politely handling the requests.
After what feels like forever, the crowd finally starts dispersing, though a few linger behind like stubborn cats begging for scraps. Michael shakes the last few hands and accepts some papers to sign before gratefully escaping over to you.
“I’m so sorry about that, Maus,” he says, looking apologetic as he plops down on the bench. “I didn’t expect such a scene on what’s supposed to be our fun day.”
“It’s okay, Papa.” You lean against his side, still a bit rattled but comforted by his familiar warmth. “Who were all those people? Why did they want your … uhh …“ You can’t quite remember the word for the scribbles people ask famous people for.
“Autographs,” Michael supplies with an amused chuckle, wrapping an arm around you. “And they wanted photos too, I suppose. I’m … well, I’m quite a famous racecar driver.”
You cock your head, trying to process this concept of your papa being some kind of celebrity. As far as you’re concerned, he’s just your goofy, loving dad who takes you karting and makes the silliest voices for all your stuffed animals at home.
“Really? Like the famous famous people on TV?” You’ve seen the paparazzi swarming the actors and musicians during awards shows, but you’d never imagined that could happen to your own papa.
Michael nods, drawing you closer with a squeeze. “Yes, somewhat like that, though it’s a bit excessive at a small karting event.” He laughs again and brushes some of your wayward hair from your face. “But you’re right, to you I’m just Papa. I don’t expect anything more from my favorite Maus.”
You beam at the affectionate nickname, all the earlier stress melting away. Who cares if strangers want your papa’s autograph or photos? All that matters is you two spending the day together like always.
“Can we go get our karts now?” You ask eagerly, bouncing a little on the bench. “I want to show you how fast I can go!”
“Of course!” Michael jumps up and scoops you into his arms with a playful growl, making you shriek giddily. “My little speed demon is going to leave me in the dust.”
He swings you up onto his shoulders and you cling on tightly as he strides toward the pit area. A few more people spot him and make a move closer with cameras and sharpies extended, but seem to think better of it when they see you perched up high.
The two of you spend the next couple hours karting together, trading places taking warm up laps and cheering each other on. At one point, a young attendant working the pit area approaches Michael somewhat nervously.
“Um, excuse me, Mr. Schumacher?” He’s clutching a crumpled baseball cap in one hand, ducking his head shyly. “I’m just such a huge fan, would you mind taking a photo and signing this for me after your session?”
Your papa smiles kindly at the young man and takes the cap. “Not at all, no problem.” As the attendant walks away, looking elated, Michael turns to you with a wink. “See? That’s how you politely ask for an autograph.”
You giggle and mime zipping your lips. “Don’t worry, Papa, I won’t let the fame go to my head when I’m a famous racecar driver too someday.”
Scooping you up once more, Michael presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. “That’s my girl. Now, last few laps — let’s see who can go the fastest without ending up in the grass!”
As evening starts falling, the two of you make your way back through the now nearly deserted lot after returning the rental karts. Most of the other karters have cleared out, leaving just you two strolling unhurriedly back to the car.
“Well Maus, despite the, uh, overexcited fans, I’d call this day a success,” Michael says, swinging your joined hands idly. “We both had our fun on the track, and I think you handled that crowd back there like a champ.”
You smile up at him, still so proud just to be his daughter. “I don’t care about all those other people, papa. As long as I have you, that’s all I need.”
Stopping beside the car, Michael crouches down and cups your face in his calloused racing palms, looking at you with such fierce adoration.
“Maus, you have me, always. No matter what happens out there,” he gestures vaguely at the empty track, “When I’m with you, I’m just Papa. My greatest accomplishment, my biggest award, is being your father. Verstanden?”
You launch yourself into his arms, hugging as tightly as you can. “Verstanden, Papa. I love you.”
“Ich liebe dich mehr, Maus,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek to your hair. “Now, what do you say we go get some victory ice cream?”
As the two of you climb into the car, you can’t keep the smile off your face, practically glowing with contentment. Sure, maybe your papa is some big famous racecar driver that everybody wants a piece of. But really, he’s just your papa — and you’re his whole world.
***
The ringing of the house phone cuts through the tense silence like a knife. You shrink further into the couch cushions as your mother rushes to answer it, shoulders visibly taut.
“Hello? No, I cannot make any comment at this time. Yes, I understand there is interest but-” Corinna breaks off, rubbing her temples wearily. “Please respect our privacy as a family right now. Thank you.”
She hangs up and leans against the wall, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment. Before she can even draw a full breath, the phone rings again, shrill and insistent. With a muffled curse, your mother snatches it up.
“What? I told you, I cannot give any statements! This is a private matter. How did you even get this number?”
You watch apprehensively as she responds again, her voice rising in distress. In the days since your papa’s skiing accident, it seems like the entire world has been hounding your family, desperate for any scrap of information.
On the TV across the room, the endless cycle of news reports drones on lowly. Images of your papa’s broken, still body being rushed from the slopes into a helicopter. Flashing advancer texts speculating on his chances of recovery from the traumatic head injury.
It makes you feel ill.
Beside you on the couch, Mick sits blank-faced, looking nearly as pale and worn as your mother. At 14, he understands the gravity of the situation all too well. Your big brother has always idolized your papa, hoping to follow in his racing footsteps one day as well. The thought of him not being there to see the realization of that dream is devastating.
Gina is curled up in the armchair, her shoulders shaking every so often with muffled sobs. At 16, she’s arguably been taking this the hardest of all you kids. She keeps her face stoically dry in front of your mother, but you can see how red and puffy her eyes are from constant crying.
As for you, at 11-years-old, you’re somehow both numb and feeling everything all at once. Part of you still can’t fully process that this nightmare is real. That your hero, your papa, could be lying comatose in a hospital, hovering between life and death. The other part of you is overwhelmed in a tsunami of terror, panic, anger, sadness — any and every emotion crashing through you at all hours.
“Kids, I’m so sorry about this,” your mother says, defeated, as she rejoins you in the living room after ending her latest call. The bags under her eyes seem to have deepened further overnight. “I know this is incredibly difficult and intrusive. But your papa is … he’s a public figure. People are concerned.”
“Incredibly insensitive is what they’re being,” Gina spits, uncurling herself from the chair enough to shoot your mother a resentful look. “We’re going through actual hell and all these people care about is getting a sound bite for the evening news!”
Corinna looks pained but doesn’t rebuke her. “I know, liebling, I know. But your papa has millions of fans all over the world who have followed his career for decades. Whether we like it or not, they care about him … and about us by extension.”
You think back to that day at the karting track all those years ago when you first realized your papa was what people called “famous”. How all those strangers clamored around him so aggressively just for a photo or an autograph. That level of fandom seemed exciting and novel at the time, when you were just a naïve 5-year-old. Now you see it for how intrusive and violating it is, this sense of entitlement people have to the private life of a public figure.
The phone starts ringing again, shattering the fragile quiet. Your mother squeezes her eyes shut and makes no move to get it this time. After four rings, the call goes to voicemail. A moment later, the tinny sound of an Italian voicemail being left blares through the speaker.
“Scusi, scusi, please, if there is any update on the condition of the great Michael Schumacher, any information at all! We are all holding vigils and saying prayers, but we must know how he fares! The world is watching and waiting!”
The words, pleading and demanding all at once, are like a slap across your face. The man’s voice is laced with such desperation, as if your papa’s life is mere entertainment to be consumedby the masses. You feel abruptly furious, incensed that a stranger’s morbid curiosity is given the same weight as your family’s anguish.
“Turn it off,” Mick mutters through clenched teeth, hunching over on the couch. “Just turn it off, Mama.”
Corinna nods numbly and reaches to end the voicemail, her mouth set in a grim line. Buzzing fills the room again as the TV drones on, the reporters’ voices a dull roar that you can no longer discern actual words from as your ears ring with white noise.
The shrill ringing of the phone cuts through once more, like a record scratching in your brain. Your mother flinches violently, hands coming up to clamp over her ears as she squeezes her eyes shut, finally at her breaking point.
Unable to watch this torture anymore, you surge to your feet and storm across the living room. You rip the phone from its cradle and hurl it against the far wall, the plastic casing shattering loudly. The ringing blessedly ends, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.
Mick and Gina stare at you with wide, stunned eyes. Your mother simply deflates, sliding down the wall to the floor as the adrenaline drains from her body. For several beats, no one dares breathe too loudly. Then, Gina starts to shake her head slowly, tears slipping free.
“Brava,” she murmurs, the barest hint of approval in her voice.
Your mother doesn’t scold you for the outburst. She merely reaches out a hand, silently beckoning you closer until you slowly cross the room again and sink to your knees in front of her. She cups your face in her palms, her own cheeks glistening with fresh tears.
“You’re right, liebling, you’re right,” she whispers brokenly. “This is about our family, not … not the world thinking they’re owed something.”
She pulls your head against her shoulder and you cling to her tightly as she begins to weep in earnest, great shuddering sobs wracking her whole frame. Gina scrambles over and tucks herself against your mother’s other side, and soon all three of you are tangled in each other’s arms, letting the tidal wave of grief crest over you.
Mick stays frozen on the couch, watching over your huddle with dark, haunted eyes. For the first time since this ordeal began, the four of you are united in simply feeling, truly letting yourselves shatter. No more putting on brave faces or pretending to be okay — from this moment, you can finally grieve as a family behind closed doors, blockading out the rest of the cruel, prying world.
Later that evening, after crying yourselves into an exhausted stupor, you drift up the stairs and sequester yourself in your bedroom. You bypass the framed photos of your papa on your nightstand, the sight of his bright smile and twinkling eyes too searing at the moment. Instead, you sink to your knees in the middle of the floor and clasp your hands tightly, bowing your head to murmur desperate pleas.
“Please, please let my papa be okay. I don’t care about all his fame or the stupid reporters. I just want him to get better and come home to us. He’s not just the famous Michael Schumacher to me. He’s Papa. He’s my whole world.”
The words spill out in a torrent, all the fear and longing you’ve been bottling up for the better part of a week erupting forth. You plead to any higher power that may be listening, bargaining away your future, your dreams, anything — as long as your papa pulls through this nightmare.
How many times had you taken for granted those moments of him just being your dad — making you pancakes on Saturday mornings, dozing on the couch during family movie nights, playfully tossing you into the pool when you grew too whiny in the summer heat? You’d give anything to have those simple, precious daddy-daughter moments back.
“The world can have his trophies and titles,” you whisper fiercely, tears slipping free to patter on the carpet. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want my papa. Please, please bring him back to us.”
You curl in on yourself, forehead pressing into the floor as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. All the adoring fans, the fawning media, the hangers-on clamoring for a piece of his glory — they only know the manufactured public persona of Michael Schumacher, legendary racer and famous celebrity. But to you, he’s always just been the quiet hero tucking you into bed at night, the gentle presence reading stories in funny voices, the mighty protector pulling you in for all-encompassing bear hugs.
You miss that wonderful, silly, tender father more than anything in the world. You don’t give a damn about his racing accolades or his fame. You just desperately need your papa back home where he belongs — with his family, the people who loved and treasured him most as simply Michael.
Just Michael. Your one and only papa.
The raw ache of that longing consumes you utterly. You lay there amid the fading light from your bedroom windows, dreams and memories of your papa flickering behind your eyelids as you plead to any benevolent force that may be listening. All you want is the chance to make more joyful memories with him, to hear his rich laugh, to keep basking in his unconditional love for years and years to come.
Please, you beg the universe silently, one last time. Please let this nightmare end. Don’t let the brightest light in my world be extinguished before its time.
Let me have my papa back.
***
A tense hush has fallen over the dining room table, the clinking of utensils against plates the only sound cutting through the thick silence. Gina avoids everyone’s eyes, pushing food around her plate listlessly. Mick stares down at his half-eaten dinner, jaw working like he’s chewing over something weighty. You pick at a bread roll, too knotted with anxiety to muster much appetite.
Your mother is the one to finally break the stifling quiet, clearing her throat. “Kids, I know these last few weeks have been … incredibly difficult for us all.”
You risk a glance up at Corinna. Her eyes are tight at the corners, her mouth a taut line. Just like all of you, the constant vigil at your papa’s bedside, combined with the relentless badgering from the media, has clearly taken its toll.
“But we have to keep trying to be a family, yes?” She reaches across the table to grip your hand. “We’re all Michael has right now. We have to … to stick together for him.”
You nod numbly, swallowing hard around the lump in your throat at the reminder of your papa’s unchanged condition. The waiting, the not knowing if or when he’ll wake up, is a special kind of torment you wouldn’t wish on anyone.
Mick abruptly shoves his plate away, the porcelain scraping loudly across the wood. You all flinch a little at the harsh sound.
“I’ve been thinking ...” he starts, then seems to reconsider his words, shoulders tightening fractionally. “Well, Y/N, you know how I … how I race under Mama’s last name?”
You frown slightly, uncertain where he’s going with this. “Betsch, yes. Because you wanted to make your own name without the expectation and pressure of being Michael Schumacher’s son.”
He dips his chin once, looking almost pained. “Exactly. And I think … I think maybe you should consider doing the same.”
The words sit heavy and convolulenting between you all like a sack of wet cement. You blink dumbly, hardly comprehending what he’s suggesting at first. When the implication hits you, you actually recoil as if he’d slapped you across the face.
“What? No. No, absolutely not, Mick. How can you even say that?”
“Y/N, just hear me out,” he pleads, holding up his hands in a calming gesture. “With Papa … with what happened, the paparazzi and the fans, they’re going to be watching our every move even more than before. Especially you since you’re planning to continue competing-”
“Don’t you dare make this about his condition,” you spit, fury thrumming through your veins like struck lightning. “And of course I plan to keep racing — it’s what Papa would want! I’m not going to hide from his name like it’s some shameful thing!”
Gina is watching the exchange with wide, startled eyes, her food forgotten. Mick runs an agitated hand through his hair, shaking his head firmly.
“It’s not about hiding or shame, it’s about protecting yourself! Don’t you see how crazy things have gotten? All the reporters harassing us, the fans leaving awful messages online hoping for updates ...”
He leans forward, expression almost desperate. “If you race as Betsch, you can compete without having that extra spotlight. You can just be a normal kid on the track without people peering in.”
Heat rushes up the back of your neck in waves of humiliation and rage. How dare he insinuate that inheriting your papa’s legacy is some kind of burden to be shrugged off? That the name Schumacher is a burden to bear rather than a badge of honor?
“I’m not you, Mick,” you bite out, fists clenching beneath the table. “Maybe racing under Mama’s name helped you deal with the pressure better and that’s fine. But I’m proud to be Michael Schumacher’s daughter! And if people can’t respect that, if they think it means they own a piece of me, then they can go to hell!”
“Language!” Your mother gasps, both appalled and slightly impressed. But you ignore her admonishment, too fired up to rein it in now.
“What, you think pretending to be someone else is going to spare me from living in Papa’s shadow anyway?” You shake your head adamantly, leaning across the table towards Mick. “It’s not, and you know it. Even if I raced under a fake name, everyone is still going to know exactly who I am and make comparisons.”
Slamming your palms on the table, you surge to your feet, chair screeching harshly against the floor. All the pain and uncertainty of these past few weeks is bubbling over into bitter, biting words.
“So why should I hide it? Why can’t I take pride in my name and my heritage? Maybe it’ll mean more scrutiny, but it’s a million times better than feeling like I have to be ashamed! Like I can’t fully honor Papa and make him proud!”
Chest heaving, you stare down a wide-eyed Mick, almost daring him to challenge you further. He seems to read the conviction blazing in your eyes, features softening into chagrin.
“You’re right ...” he murmurs with a wince. “You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
You hold his repentant gaze for a long moment before deflating back into your chair with a muted thud. In the ringing silence, you can hear your mother’s soft sniffles from the far end of the table. When you look over, she has her head bowed, hands pressed to her eyes as she cries quietly.
“M-Mama?” Gina ventures in a small voice, reaching across to grasp her mother’s wrist. “What’s wrong?”
Corinna lowers her hands, swiping at the tears streaking her cheeks. When she meets your bewildered gaze, her expression is a complicated brew of pride and heart-wrenching sadness.
“Nothing is wrong, liebling,” she assures Gina with a watery smile, before turning back to you. “Y/N, you’re so much like your papa, do you know that? So brave and determined … so full of that same fighting spirit.”
She dips her chin, lips trembling faintly. “He would be so proud to hear you defend his name like that. To see you ready to take on the weight of wearing it, regardless of what the world throws at you.”
More tears spill forth, but she brushes them away impatiently with the backs of her hands.
“But liebchen, you have to understand … Michael spent decades bearing that scrutiny and expectation. People analyzing his every move, always under a spotlight so harsh it burned. I never wanted that for any of you.”
Sliding her chair back, your mother crosses to kneel before you, cradling your face gently between her palms. Her eyes are shining but intensely serious, almost pleading with you.
“The Schumacher name casts such a long shadow, one so great that your own light can be eclipsed before you ever have a chance to properly shine. I don’t want you smothered by that burden, mein schatz. I want you free to make your own amazing mark on this world, completely unchained.”
You feel your throat grow tight at her words, the weight of them ringing so true and terribly sad. You reach up to circle your fingers around her wrists, holding her hands to your cheeks like vices.
“I know, Mama, I know,” you whisper roughly. “But that light you want me to shine? Papa is the one who sparked it inside me in the first place.”
You meet her watery gaze steadily, willing her to understand the conviction taking root inside you.
“The joy and passion I have for racing doesn’t come from some anonymous dream. It comes from him — from the nights he spent giving me a play-by-play of his biggest victories, from the days we spent at the karting tracks making memories, from everything I want so desperately to honor.”
Leaning forward until your brows nearly touch, you let the pleasing words spill out directly from your heart.
“So please, please don’t ask me to race as anyone other than your daughter, yes, but also proudly as Michael Schumacher’s daughter. That name isn’t a burden or a shadow to me. It’s something I want to carry forward and make blaze even brighter.”
Your mother’s eyes slip shut as she draws in a shuddering breath. For a long moment, she simply holds your face cradled in her palms, seeming to bask in your impassioned words. When her eyes finally open again, they are overflowing with a fierce tenderness.
“Oh liebchen,” she murmurs, voice thick with an odd mix of grief and wonder. “You are your father’s daughter through and through. So determined, so unafraid to face the world head on ...”
She strokes her thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, swiping away the dampness there. “I only hope he knows just how brightly his fire still burns in you. How it is living on in the most brilliant way.”
Surging up onto her knees, your mother pulls you into a fierce embrace, tucking your head beneath her chin. You cling to her tightly, drawing strength from her warmth, her tireless support and love. Over her shoulder, you can see Mick and Gina watching silently, their own eyes overly bright.
When your mother finally leans back, cupping your face once more, her expression has regained some of its usual firmness and resolution.
“Very well, then,” she nods, offering you a watery but determined smile. “If you truly feel ready to take on the world, to claim that name and legacy as yours, then we will face it together. As a family.”
She rises lithely to her feet, drawing you up along with her. Gathering Mick and Gina in with the sweep of her arms, she folds you all in her protective embrace, holding your foreheads together in the center.
“You may be Schumachers, but that name does not define or limit you,” she declares, quiet but firm. “It is simply one part of your identity, one piece of the incredible legacy you inherited. What you choose to make of it, how brightly you make that legacy burn, is up to you alone.”
She pulls back just enough to meet each of your eyes in turn, her own gleaming with resolute pride.
“So let them watch, let them scrutinize and sneer and make their judgments. You will simply keep chasing your passions and living your truths. Yes, the world may know you as Schumachers, but you alone will define what that name represents, now and for generations to come.”
***
The roar of the engines fades as you cross the finish line, taking the chequered flag. The broadcast team erupts in excitement.
“Unbelievable! Y/N Schumacher has done it — the daughter of the legendary Michael Schumacher wins the Formula 2 championship in her rookie year!”
You can hardly believe it yourself as you start your cooldown lap, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The pit crew is cheering wildly, holding up the #1 sign. Your race engineer is on the radio, his voice cracking with joy. “You’re a champion, Y/N! A first-year champion!”
“What an incredible drive from the young German. Shades of her father with that relentless determination and racecraft. She’s carried on the Schumacher name proudly.”
As you return to the pit lane, you spot Mick getting out of his own car. He has a huge smile on his face, eyes shining with pride. You take a moment to drink it all in as you bring your car to a stop and he’s the first one there, ripping off your helmet so he can hug you tightly.
“You did it! I’m so proud of you!” He’s beaming as he pulls back to look at you.
“Aww, Mick ...” You blink back happy tears, overwhelmed by the magnitude of what you’ve accomplished. “I couldn’t have done it without you pushing me every single race.”
Mick shakes his head dismissively. “This was all you. You were the faster driver this season, plain and simple.” His face falls a little. “I really thought I had you there at the end, but you just wouldn’t give up.”
You grin cheekily. “Of course not! I’m a Schumacher — we never give up.”
“What a beautiful moment between the siblings. You can see the immense pride Mick has for his sister, despite coming up just short of winning the championship himself.”
The rest of the team surrounds the two of you, lifting you both up onto their shoulders as the celebrations kick into full gear. You lock eyes with Mick over the sea of smiling faces and he winks at you contentedly.
Later, after you’ve returned to the garage, you find a quiet moment alone with Mick. He pulls you into another hug, this one more lingering.
“I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You’ve worked so incredibly hard for this.” Mick’s voice is thick with emotion.
You squeeze him tightly. “Thank you, Mick. That means everything coming from you.”
He pulls back, cupping your face fondly. “I remember when we were kids, dreaming of following in Papa’s footsteps. And now look at us!”
You laugh, a few happy tears spilling over. “I know, it’s crazy! I couldn’t have done this without your help, you know. You’ve been by my side every step of the way.”
“A storybook ending for the Schumacher siblings. Y/N cementing herself as a future star, with her older brother not far behind.”
Mick shakes his head adamantly. “No, Y/N, this was all your talent and determination. I just got a front row seat to watching greatness in the making.” His eyes are shining with sincerity.
You throw your arms around his neck, struck by how lucky you are to have such an amazing brother. “I love you, Mick. Thank you for always believing in me.”
He hugs you fiercely. “I’ll always believe in you. You’re a champion now, but I know this is just the beginning for you.”
The team arrives then, champagne bottles in hand and ready to continue the celebration. You pull back and grin at Mick mischievously, cracking open the first bottle with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you … for now.”
The bubbly liquid sprays everywhere as you both dissolve into laughter, reveling in this perfect moment of sibling bonding and love. Mick pulls you into a wet hug, so proud and grateful to share this with you.
“And an iconic image — the Schumacher children celebrating a Formula 2 title just like their father did in the upper series so many times before. A changing of the guard, with the name Schumacher set to dazzle racing fans once more for years to come.”
Later that night, after you’ve showered off the champagne and slipped into comfy clothes, there’s a soft knock at your hotel room door. You open it to find Mick standing there, shifting awkwardly.
“Hey, you’ve got a second?” His eyes are slightly red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.
“Of course, what’s up?” You gesture him inside, concerned by his demeanor.
Mick enters slowly, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. He seems to be struggling to find the words.
You rest a hand on his arm. “Mick, you can tell me anything, you know that.”
He nods jerkily, finally meeting your eyes. “I really am so happy for you, Y/N. You have no idea how much it means to me to see you accomplishing your dreams.” His voice catches with emotion.
“But?” You prod gently.
Mick’s eyes water again. “But … it’s also really hard for me. This was my dream first, you know? To become a champion like Papa.” He swipes at the tears angrily. “And now you’ve beaten me to it. I’m just … I’m struggling with that a bit.”
Your heart clenches at his quiet admission. You pull Mick into a tight hug, rubbing his back soothingly. “Oh, Mick … I’m so sorry. I never wanted to take that away from you.”
He shakes his head against your shoulder. “No, no, it’s not your fault at all. You earned this, fair and square. I’m just … dealing with some complicated emotions, I guess.”
You push him back by the shoulders, looking him straight in the eyes intently. “Mick, listen to me. You are one of the most naturally gifted drivers I’ve ever seen. This is not the end for you, not even close. You’re going to be a champion too, I know it.”
Mick seems to deflate slightly at your words, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” you state firmly. “We’re going to take this to the top level together. And we’re going to make Papa even more proud than he already is.”
A slow smile spreads across Mick’s face. “Together,” he repeats, reaching out to take your hand and give it a squeeze.
You squeeze back reassuringly. “Always together. You and me, just like when we were kids. We’re a team, remember?”
Mick nods, the brightness returning to his eyes. He seems lighter now, the melancholy cloud lifted by your words of encouragement.
On impulse, you throw your arms around him again, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Mick laughs delightedly, squeezing you just as tightly.
“Thank you, Y/N. I needed to hear that from you,” he murmurs shakily into your hair.
You pull back just enough to grin at him cheekily. “What are little sisters for?”
Mick lets out a surprised bark of laughter, warmth and affection shining from every part of his expression as he gazes at you fondly. “You’ll always be my little sis, champion or not.”
It’s your turn to laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. “Well this little sis just kicked your ass this season, so show some respect!”
Mick’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “I’ll remember that for next year, believe me.”
***
It’s a crisp autumn evening at the Schumacher family home in the Swiss Alps. You’re curled up on the plush couch in the living room, flipping through a magazine while your brother paces back and forth anxiously.
“Will you please sit down?” You ask, eyeing him over the top of the pages. “You’re making me dizzy.”
Mick runs a hand through his tousled blond hair. “Sorry, I’m just … worked up, I guess.”
You set the magazine aside. “About what? We haven’t had a race in weeks.”
He stops his pacing to face you. “You know the season’s almost over, right? And Haas still hasn’t said anything about re-signing me for next year.”
“Oh, Mick.” You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. You’ve had a solid season.”
Mick flops down next to you, deflating a little. “I don’t know. There are so many other options on the table. What if Haas decides to go a different direction?”
“Then you’ll find another seat,” you say firmly. “Any team would be lucky to have you behind the wheel.”
He manages a half-smile. “Thanks. I just wish I had your confidence sometimes.”
“What can I say?” You flash him a cheeky grin. “It’s a gift.”
The peaceful moment is shattered as both of your phones start ringing in unison. You exchange a puzzled look before digging them out.
“My manager,” Mick says, furrowing his brow as he answers. “Hello?”
You do the same, pressing the phone to your ear. “Hey, Nicolas, what’s up?”
For the next few minutes, you and Mick are silent, listening intently with rapidly changing expressions — yours elated, his crestfallen. When you finally hang up, Mick is staring at the floor, lips pressed into a tight line.
“Well?” He asks, voice tight. “Don’t keep me in suspense.”
You take a deep breath, trying to tamp down your surging excitement. “Ferrari wants me for next season.”
Mick’s face falls even further, if possible. “You’re kidding.”
“I wouldn’t joke about this!” You can’t keep the grin from overtaking your features. “Can you believe it? Driving for the Scuderia! It’s a dream come true!”
“Yeah, for you maybe,” Mick mutters darkly.
You blink at his tone, smile fading slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He drags a hand down his face wearily. “Haas declined to re-sign me for next year.”
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What? No, that can’t be right!”
“Afraid so.” Mick’s voice is flat, resigned. “They said something about … needing to bring in fresh blood or some bullshit excuse.”
You scoot closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Mick, I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
“Don’t be.” He tries for a nonchalant shrug, but it comes off as dejected. “At least one of us is moving up in the world.”
“Yeah, but at what cost?” You protest. “We’re teammates! We were supposed to take on Formula 1 together!”
Mick snorts humorlessly. “Looks like that’s not going to happen after all.”
An uncomfortable silence stretches between you. You open your mouth, searching for the right words of reassurance, but come up empty. How can you comfort him when your own dream has come true at his expense?
“Hey.” Mick’s somber tone breaks the quiet. “I’m happy for you, you know. Really, I am.”
You meet his sincere gaze, feeling your eyes start to well up. “I know. But that doesn’t make this any less shitty for you.”
He manages a rueful smile. “What can I say? I’m a realist.”
“So what are you going to do now?” You ask quietly.
Mick lets out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Keep grinding, I guess. Look for another seat, any seat, even if it’s not in F1 next season.”
“You can’t give up on F1!” You protest instantly. “You’re too good for that, Mick.”
“Am I, though?” He lets out a mirthless chuckle. “Face it, Y/N, you’ve always been the better driver. This just proves it.”
You shake your head adamantly. “That’s not true at all! You’re every bit as talented as me.”
“Then why did Ferrari pick you instead of me?” There’s no accusation in his words, just weariness.
You falter, mind churning as you search for an answer that won’t come. “I … don’t know.”
“Exactly.” Mick closes his eyes briefly. “Maybe it’s for the best. At least this way, one of us still gets to live out the Schumacher legacy and race for Ferrari. Carry on the family name, you know?”
“But you’re a Schumacher too,” you say, feeling your throat start to tighten with unshed tears. “It should be both of us out there, not just me.”
Mick reaches over to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Hey, don’t cry about it. I’ll be okay, really.”
“How can you be so calm about this?” You swipe angrily at the moisture gathering in your eyes. “It’s not fair, Mick. It’s just not fair at all.”
He levels you with a look that’s decades older than his years. “Life rarely is. You know that as well as I do.”
You fall silent, unable to formulate a response. He’s right, you realize with a pang. The two of you, of all people, should understand that success and failure often go hand-in-hand, even for the most talented competitors.
Pursing your lips, you lean forward and pull Mick into a fierce hug. He tenses for a split second before wrapping his arms around you tightly.
“I’m still so proud of you,” you murmur into the crook of his neck. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my incredible big brother.”
Mick lets out a shaky exhale against your hair. “And you’re the most badass little sister a guy could ask for. Ferrari has no idea what they’re in for.”
You pull back just far enough to meet his eyes, emboldened by the warm affection shining in them.
“Just promise me one thing?” You ask.
He arches an eyebrow quizzically. “What’s that?”
A mischievous grin tugs at your lips. “That you’re not going to take it easy on me whenever you’re back on the grid.”
***
You take a deep breath as you pull your sleek new Ferrari up to the iconic factory in Maranello. This place holds so many memories — some joyful, others bittersweet. Your father cemented himself as a legend here, and you can’t help but feel the weight of that legacy on your shoulders now more than ever.
The door swings open and there stands Fred Vasseur offering you a warm smile. “Y/N, welcome home.”
You return the smile, unable to mask the flood of emotions. “It’s good to be back, Fred.”
He gestures for you to follow him inside. “I’m sure this place brings back quite a few memories.”
“You have no idea,” you murmur, taking in the familiar sights and smells. The rosso corsa that coats every surface, the scent of machinery and high-octane fuel … it’s intoxicating.
A tiny you runs through the hallways, giggling madly as your frantic mother tries to catch up. “Mick! Y/N! Get back here this instant!”
Mick peeks out from behind a workbench, sticking his tongue out at Gina, who playfully swats at him. You spot the perfect hiding spot — a massive green recycling bin tucked in the corner ...
“Y/N? Are you still with me?” Fred’s voice breaks you from your reverie.
You shake your head. “Sorry, got a bit lost in thought there. This place just … feels like stepping into the past.”
Fred nods knowingly. “I can only imagine. But today is about your future with the team.” He leads you through the winding corridors, pointing out various departments. “Over here is aerodynamics, that hallway takes you to the design labs ...”
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Your father’s voice echoes down the corridor, his tone playful but tinged with desperation. You stifle a giggle from your hiding spot as his footsteps draw closer.
“Michael, any luck?” That’s Paolo, one of the mechanics. You chance a peek and see half the team has been enlisted to search for you.
Your dad scrubs a hand over his face. “She’s too good at this game. Should’ve known better than to play hide-and-seek in a place this size.”
You chuckle softly at the memory, prompting a curious look from Fred. “Sorry, just … reminiscing again.”
He gives you an easy grin. “By all means, feel free to share. I’d love to hear some of those old stories.”
You take a breath, composing yourself before launching into the tale. “Well, there was this one time when I was maybe … four or five? Mick and I were causing an unholy ruckus as usual, and Papa suggested a game of hide-and-seek to wear us out. Big mistake on his part.”
Fred’s eyes crinkle with amusement. “Let me guess, you proved to be a master hider?”
“You could say that.” You grin mischievously. “I found this big recycling bin, crawled inside, and stayed completely silent while the whole team tore the place apart looking for me. Papa was just about to call in the overalls for backup when Paolo finally peeked in the bin.”
Fred throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “I can just picture your poor father’s face when they found you! He must’ve been both relieved and completely exasperated.”
You nod. “Oh, he wore that particular blend of emotions often when we were young terrors around here.”
The two of you continue chatting amicably as Fred shows you around the various facilities — the simulator room, the engine workshop, even the gym and physiotherapy center. With each new area unveiled, another flood of nostalgia washes over you.
You and Mick sprint into the wide-open workshop, engines and miscellaneous car pieces scattered all around. Gina is closing in, her longer legs giving her an advantage.
“Got you now, you little gremlins!” She scoops Mick up with one arm, then turns her sights on you.
You let out a shriek of laughter, dodging around a massive piece of equipment as your mother joins the chase. “Come here, Maus! It’s time for your nap!”
You shake your head furiously. “No nap! No nap!”
Corinna’s hand finally snags the back of your shirt, and you erupt into a fit of giggles as she pulls you into a hug ...
“That’s some smile you’ve got going there,” Fred notes with a wry grin. “I take it another happy memory?”
You give an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. Just … remembering how this place used to be our personal jungle gym. Mick, Gina, and I would run absolute loops around Mama while she tried to wrangle us for nap time.”
Fred chuckles fondly. “I can picture three tiny terrors leaving chaos in their wake.” His expression softens. “It must be incredibly special to be back here after all these years. To follow in your father’s footsteps like this.”
You swallow hard against the swell of emotions. “It’s … overwhelming, if I’m being honest. But in the best possible way.” You glance around at the familiar setting with new eyes. “These halls practically raised me. And now … now I get to write my own chapter here.”
Fred gives your shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You’ve got a long road ahead, but I have complete faith you’ll make us all proud, Y/N.”
You straighten your shoulders, giving him a determined nod. “I’m ready.”
As you follow him further into the factory, you can’t help but revel in the rush of coming full circle. Yes, this team, this place, is indelibly woven into your childhood. But now … now it’s time to create new memories.
To race.
To win.
To become a legend.
***
The crowd outside the Ferrari headquarters swells as you emerge from the famous red doors for the first time as an official Scuderia Ferrari driver. Shouts and cheers erupt from every direction, fans pressing forward eagerly with pens and photos clutched in their hands.
“Over here, Y/N!”
“Un selfie, per favore!”
“Can you sign this for my daughter?”
You plaster on a polite smile, trying to graciously oblige as many autograph and photo requests as possible. But the throngs only grow more insistent, hands grabbing at you from all angles as the crowd closes in. Your heart races and you feel yourself starting to panic at the lack of personal space.
“Per favore, let her breathe!” An insistent voice cuts through the commotion in lightly accented Italian.
The crowd parts slightly as a familiar, lean figure pushes through — your new teammate. His green eyes meet yours with a reassuring look as he plants himself firmly by your side.
“Give her some space!” Charles barks out in English this time. “She can’t breathe!”
You shoot him a grateful glance as the fans reluctantly take a step back. Charles gently takes your arm and pulls you out of the scrum.
“Sorry about that,” he says with an apologetic smile, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. “I know how intense they can be around here.”
“No, thank you,” you reply earnestly. “I was about two seconds away from an anxiety attack.”
Charles chuckles. “Well, we can’t have the new driver cracking under pressure on day one.”
You make a face at his teasing remark. “Watch it, pretty boy.”
Laughing, Charles puts his arm around your shoulders in a friendly gesture. “Come on, I know just the place to escape the madness for a bit. Dinner’s on me.”
He guides you across the plaza and down a side street to a cozy trattoria — Ristorante Montana, known as the unofficial “Ferrari restaurant” frequented by team members. As you enter, a stout woman with a warm, welcoming smile emerges from the back.
“Ah, Charles! Welcome back. And this must be ...” Her eyes widen as they land on you. “Oh, la piccola principessa is all grown up!”
Flustered, you open your mouth to respond, but the woman has already swept you up in a tight embrace.
“Rossella, you’re smothering the poor girl!” A elderly man’s voice calls out in amused rebuke.
“Hush, Maurizio, and pour us some wine!” Rossella releases you and holds you at arm’s length, beaming. “Michael’s little girl, all woman now. I’ll never forget the first time your father brought you in here as a bambina.”
She gestures to a framed photo hanging on the wall of a much younger Rossella standing next to Michael, who is holding a grinning toddler — unmistakably you.
“He was so proud,” Rossella continues misty-eyed. “Just like I know he would be of you today, following in your father’s footsteps.”
You swallow hard, touched by the warm welcome and memory. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Charles watching you with a soft smile.
Rossella shifts gears abruptly, all business. “Now, what will you two have? The usual for you, Charles? And for you, la principessa, I insist you try the gnocchi al ragú. Just like my nonna used to make it.”
As Rossella whisks off to the kitchen, Maurizio appears with a bottle of deep red wine and two glasses.
“To new beginnings,” he toasts with a wink, pouring for you and Charles.
You raise your glass to clink against Charles’ with a smile. “New beginnings.”
Over pasta and wine, you and Charles fall into an easy rapport, bantering back and forth as the weight of the evening’s earlier stress dissipates. You find yourself repeatedly distracted by the dimpled grin that lights up his face whenever he laughs at one of your quips.
“So is this a regular hazing ritual you put all the rookies through?” You ask innocently. “Get them away from the crowds and ply them with wine so they’re too drunk to be nervous on day one?”
Charles barks out a laugh. “You’ve found me out! Although I do seem to recall my own initiation being a lot harder. Maybe I’m going soft in my old age.”
“Old age? You’re what …12?” You retort, eyes dancing with mirth.
The waiter arrives with the dessert menu, but Rossella shoos him away.
“No, no menu. I’m bringing you the tiramisu to share. My secret recipe.”
Charles groans in delight. “You’re a legend, Rossella.”
She pats his cheek affectionately before disappearing again. A comfortable silence falls between you and Charles as you each take a bite of the rich, velvety tiramisu.
“Mmmm, this is literally heaven,” you murmur happily.
Charles hums in agreement around another forkful.
Your eyes catch movement out of the corner and you turn to see Rossella returning, carrying a large framed photo under her arm. She sets it down on the empty chair next to you with a proud grin.
It’s a glamor shot of you from a recent photoshoot for Vogue Italia — hair and makeup impeccable, lips parted in a secret smile as you gaze directly at the camera.
Rossella rests a hand on your shoulder. “For me, bellissima? So we can hang la principessa right next to il padre.”
Touched, you take the proffered sharpie and scribble out a quick inscription before signing your name with a flourish at the bottom.
“Grazie mille,” Rossella breathes, throwing an arm around you to squeeze you against her ample frame. “You’ve made this old heart very happy tonight.”
When she finally releases you, you see Charles watching you both with a soft, almost wistful expression. You raise your eyebrows at him in question, but he just shakes his head with a smile.
As you and Charles prepare to depart, Rossella calls out once more. “You come back soon, eh principessa? I have more pictures to collect.”
You throw her a wink over your shoulder. “D’accordo, d’accordo. We’ll be back soon!”
Out on the street, you pause, conscious of the evening rapidly drawing to a close. You turn to Charles, studying him properly for the first time. His deep green eyes crinkle at the corners as he meets your gaze.
“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t swooped in to rescue me back there.”
Charles shrugs nonchalantly, but his expression is kind. “We look out for our own in Ferrari. That’s what teammates are for, no?”
A beat passes, the momentary tension thickening between you. Then Charles seems to catch himself, clearing his throat.
“Anyway, I should let you get going before your handlers send out a search party. Need me to call you a car?”
“No, no I’m good,” you reply quickly, trying to mask your disappointment at the night ending. “My performance coach has the car around front.”
You start to turn away, then impulsively pivot back. Rising up on your toes, you throw your arms around Charles’ neck and pull him in for a brief, platonic hug.
“Seriously, thank you,” you murmur in his ear. “For everything.”
As you pull back, your faces are just inches apart. Charles’ eyes are warm, his gaze intense. For a dizzying moment, you’re certain he’s going to kiss you. Then just as suddenly, the moment passes and he steps back with a friendly smile.
“Anytime, princesse. I’ll see you bright and early next week for our first time running the SF-23 on the simulator.”
With a wink, he turns and saunters off down the street, hands shoved in his pockets in that effortlessly cool way of his. You let out a long breath, flustered and exhilarated all at once.
Your performance coach has indeed been waiting with the car, looking mildly concerned. “Everything alright?”
You flash her a bright smile, practically skipping to the car. “It is now, Mara. It absolutely is.”
Your first day as a Ferrari driver was certainly more than you bargained for. But as you settle into the plush leather seats, you can’t wipe the silly grin off your face. Something tells you this new chapter with the Scuderia is going to be an adventure — in more ways than one.
As Mara pulls away from the curb, you catch a final glimpse of Charles striding confidently down the street. Even from a distance, you can make out the dimpled smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
Leaning back against the headrest, you think back to the memory of his arm slung casually around your shoulders and sigh contentedly. Yes, you have a feeling this is just the beginning of what’s shaping up to be a very interesting partnership with Charles Leclerc.
***
Sebastian looks over the wine list, pretending to be engrossed in selecting the perfect vintage as he peers over the top of the menu. His eyes are fixated on the entrance to the upscale Italian restaurant, waiting for Charles and you to arrive.
This had better work, he thinks to himself. The two of you have been making googly eyes at each other for months now, but are both too stubborn to make a move.
Finally, the hostess leads Charles and you into the dining room. Sebastian ducks down, pulling the brim of his fedora lower over his face and adjusting the fake mustache he’s wearing as a disguise. He watches as the hostess shows Charles and you to an intimate table for two by the window, the soft glow of candlelight illuminating your faces.
“There must be some mistake,” Charles says, looking around in confusion. “I was under the impression we were meeting Sebastian here for dinner?”
You look equally perplexed. “That’s what he told me too. He said to meet at 8 o’clock sharp.”
“Well this is just awkward,” Charles runs a hand through his tousled hair. “Should we wait for him or ...”
Before you can respond, the waiter arrives with a basket of bread and butter. “Good evening, my name is Gerardo and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“Actually, we’re still waiting on-” Charles begins, but the waiter cuts him off.
“Ah yes, Mr. Vettel asked me to inform you that he will be unable to join this evening after all. A last minute obligation came up. He insisted I take excellent care of you both and that the evening is on his treat.” Gerardo smiles broadly. “So what will you have to drink?”
Sebastian smirks to himself at his cleverly orchestrated ruse from his secluded table in the back corner. He watches with bated breath as a flustered Charles and you exchange an awkward look.
“I’ll have a glass of Chianti,” you say finally, breaking the tension.
“Make that two,” Charles adds with a resigned sigh.
As Gerardo heads off to grab your drinks, an uncomfortable silence falls over the table. “You know, we don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Charles says, ever the gentleman. “I’m sure there’s been some misunderstanding.”
“Don’t be silly,” you reply, offering him a warm smile that makes Sebastian’s heart melt a little. “It would be rude to ruin the evening Sebastian so carefully planned, even if he’s not actually here to enjoy it.”
Charles visibly relaxes at your acceptance of the situation. “You’re right, of course. If it’s a free dinner, we would be fools to turn that down!”
You both share a laugh, finally breaking the ice. Sebastian feels a swell of pride watching the two of you start to let your guards down around each other.
Over the next hour or so, Sebastian is delighted to see Charles and you become more at ease, trading jokes and stories over several delectable courses of pasta, veal, and freshly baked focaccia. He’s never seen either of you look so lighthearted and carefree, nor has he witnessed two people connect on such an organic, genuine level before. It’s positively magical to behold.
Gerardo arrives once more, this time bearing a decadent slice of torta della nonna for you to share for dessert. “Compliments of the house,” he announces with a wink before departing.
You immediately dig into the lemony confection with gusto. “Oh my god, this is dangerously good,” you moan through a mouthful of pastry cream and flaky crust.
Charles tries and fails to stifle a laugh at your unabashed enthusiasm. “You’ve got a little ...” he gestures vaguely at the corners of your mouth.
“What? Where?” You ask, attempting to wipe the stray crumbs and smears of powdered sugar from your cheeks.
“Here, let me,” Charles says softly, reaching across the table with his cloth napkin.
Sebastian watches with bated breath, his heart pounding in his chest, as Charles tenderly swipes the napkin along your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek in the process. The moment seems to last an eternity, the two of you locked in each other’s smoldering gaze.
Then, ever so slowly, Charles leans across the table towards you. Sebastian can scarcely breathe as he witnesses the magnetic pull drawing the two of you together. This is it, this is finally happening, he marvels silently.
Sebastian lets out an inadvertent yelp of glee and instantly slaps his hands over his mouth. A table of nearby diners turns to gawk at the strange mustached man.
“Ahem, sorry! Hairball,” Sebastian rasps out in a terrible Italian accent. He slinks down in the booth, burning with embarrassment as the other patrons slowly turn away with disgusted looks.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles and you also turn towards the commotion, the heated moment effectively ruined. Damn it, he was so close!
You and Charles eventually turn back towards each other, the awkwardness having returned. “We should, uh, probably ask for the check soon,” Charles mumbles, unable to meet your eyes.
“Yeah, I’ve got an early training session in the morning anyway,” you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice as you stare down at the table.
Inwardly cursing his rotten luck, Sebastian motions for the bill and slips his black credit card into the folder when Gerardo brings it. He knows the only way to redeem this night is to insist you and Charles stay for one more drink. Maybe add a little more wine confidence to help reignite that spark you both nearly combusted over just moments ago.
As Gerardo whisks away to process Sebastian’s payment, the older German steels his nerves. He removes his ridiculous disguise, straightens his tie, and makes his way over to your table with purpose.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” Sebastian asks with an exaggerated wink as he reaches you. “It appears Mr. Leclerc and Miss Schumacher were stood up this evening. For shame!”
“Ah, Seb!” Charles laughs in surprise at seeing his friend and former teammate. “We should have known you were behind this madness.”
You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “You’re a menace! I can’t believe you tricked us like that.”
Sebastian claps his hands together and flashes you both a devilish grin. “What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic who cannot abide two clearly smitten people tiptoeing around each other any longer. Now, Gerardo is going to bring you the finest Barolo they have, on my dime, and you are going to remedy this sexual tension situation once and for all over another bottle or three!”
Charles opens his mouth to protest, but you laugh delightedly and nod towards Sebastian. “You know what, I could go for another drink. What do you say, Charles?”
The older Ferrari driver seems to wilt under the weight of your brilliant smile, Sebastian can’t fault the man for that. “Ah, what the hell,” Charles shrugs, throwing his arm around the back of your chair. “Let’s see where this night takes us!”
Sebastian settles in, pouring you all generous glasses of the deep ruby wine when Gerardo delivers it. He may be getting on in years, but his matchmaking job has only just begun. One way or another, he’s determined to ensure his two protégés quit stumbling over each other and finally discover the romance that’s been blossoming under their noses all along.
Sipping his wine, Sebastian gazes at you and Charles, sees the tenderness flickering in both your eyes as you lean in closer together over the candlelight. He smiles contentedly to himself.
Mission accomplished.
***
The paddock is mostly deserted at this late hour, the muffled sounds of the teams packing up drifting in from the garages. You linger near the Ferrari motorhome, watching Charles sitting alone on a stack of tires, shoulders slumped. He’s been increasingly withdrawn these past few days leading up to the Japanese Grand Prix.
You approach slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Charles? You okay?”
He looks up, managing a small smile when he sees you. “Hey, mon amour.”
There’s a weariness to his voice that tugs at your heart. You take a seat beside him, letting your arm brush against his in a subtle show of support. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Charles is silent for a long moment, pulling his helmet off and turning it over in his hands. “It’s Suzuka,” he finally says, so softly you have to lean in to hear him. “Being back here … it’s difficult.”
Your brow furrows. Right, this is where Jules Bianchi crashed, his accident eventually proving fatal. Charles had been incredibly close with his mentor and godfather. “I can’t even imagine how painful this must be.” You cover his hand with yours. “Having to race on the same track ...”
“I relive that day over and over.” Charles’s accented voice is thick with emotion. “I can still see the footage of his car slamming into the crane, like it’s burned into my mind. He was my friend, my godfather, like a brother to me. And now every year, I have to come back to this place that took him from us far too soon.” He squeezes his eyes shut, a stray tear escaping.
“Oh, Charles ...” You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. His body is rigid at first before melting against you, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him tightly as his breath hitches with suppressed sobs, your own eyes stinging. How many times has he bottled up this grief, putting on a brave face for the world?
“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his back. “I can’t imagine the pain you’ve carried all these years. But Jules wouldn’t want you torturing yourself like this.” You pull away enough to frame his face with your hands, meeting his reddened eyes. “He’d want you to keep living, to keep pursuing your dream that he helped nurture. He’d be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”
Charles manages a watery smile, covering one of your hands with his. “You’re right. Thank you, chérie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He leans in, resting his forehead against yours with a shuddering sigh. “I just miss him so much some days. Like an ache I can’t shake.”
“I know.” You brush away the dampness on his cheeks with your thumbs. “Believe me, I understand that ache all too well.”
A crease forms between Charles’s brows as he regards you intently. “Your papa.”
You give a solemn nod. “Everyone talks about him like he’s gone. But he’s not, he’s still here, still breathing. It’s just … he’s not the same man I grew up with anymore.” You blink back tears of your own. “Sometimes I’ll see flashes that remind me so much of how Papa used to be. And then that illusion is shattered and I’m grieving all over again for the person he was.”
Charles’ arms wrap around you fully, tucking your head under his chin. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. Seeing those glimpses of the man he was, only to have that hope ripped away.” He presses his lips to the crown of your head. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
You let out a choked laugh. “Yeah, definitely doesn’t feel like it most days.” Pulling away, you try for a smile. “But we Schumachers are fighters. We don’t stay down for long.”
“That’s my girl.” Charles grins, cupping your face and brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I’m lucky to have you by my side through all of this craziness. I don’t know what I’d do without your support, especially this weekend.”
“Are you kidding?” You turn to fully face him, clasping his hands in yours. “Charles, you’ve been my rock too, you know that? Signing with Ferrari this year, following in my father’s footsteps … the pressure has been immense. But you’ve never let me crumble under it. You’re always there with a laugh or a hug or some silly joke to make me smile even on the hardest days.”
Charles’s grin turns lopsided, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes your heart flutter. “Well, someone has to keep that ego of yours from inflating too much, future champion.” He leans in until his lips are a mere breath from yours. “But in all seriousness, we’re in this together, okay? No matter what the future holds, I’ll always have your back.”
“I know,” you murmur, feeling his words like a soothing balm over the parts of your heart still aching for your father as you once knew him. “And I’ll always have yours. We’re a team, on and off the track.” You close the distance between you, kissing him deeply.
Charles returns the kiss with fervor, his fingers threading through your hair to hold you close. The worries plaguing you both seem to temporarily fade into the background amid the warmth and solidity of his embrace. When you finally break apart, breathless, his emerald gaze holds an intensity that steals the air from your lungs in the best way.
“Je t’aime,” he murmurs, the endearment like a vow falling from his lips. “No matter what happens out there tomorrow, or any other race day, that will never change. You and me against the world, princesse.”
You flash him a coy smile, feeling desire begin to simmer low in your belly. “Is that a promise, Mr. Leclerc?”
“Mmm, I can make it one if you’d like.” Charles waggles his eyebrows, making you giggle as his hands roam freely over your back and sides, pulling you flush against him. His voice drops to a husky whisper. “Maybe I can find more convincing ways to pledge my devotion once we’re back at the hotel.”
“I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you say breathily, leaning in to nip at his lower lip in a way that makes him groan. “Though if memory serves, I seem to recall you saying something about honoring the team’s curfew tonight?” You trail openmouthed kisses along the sharp line of his jaw. “Wouldn’t want to be … sleep deprived before the race.”
Charles’s fingers flex against your hips as he lets out a shuddering breath. “You’re really testing my willpower here.”
“Payback for all those times you’ve tortured me.” You punctuate the statement with a sharp nip to the sensitive skin below his ear, making him jerk against you with a strangled sound. Pulling back, you smirk at the glazed look in his eyes. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
He blinks slowly, then his gaze narrows in a way that makes heat flare across your skin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that later.” His voice is low, almost a growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.
“I look forward to it.” You lean in until your lips are nearly brushing his again.
“Tease,” Charles accuses, though his kiss quickly swallows any further retort.
You lose yourself in the press of his mouth, the exploring glide of his hands over your body, the undeniable chemistry that still sometimes takes your breath away. When you finally break apart, gasping for air, you stay wrapped in each other’s arms, foreheads resting together.
“Thank you,” Charles murmurs after a long beat of comfortable silence. “For always knowing how to pull me out of my own head. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“That’s what partners are for,” you say simply, brushing back the silken strands of chestnut hair falling over his forehead. His eyes are so warm, so full of love and adoration, you feel it envelop you like a cozy blanket. “I’ll always be here to lean on, just like you are for me.”
Charles catches your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your palm. “And I’m grateful for that every single day. Facing the good times and bad, together.” His thumb strokes over your knuckles. “I know Suzuka will never be easy, not with the weight of the memories here. But you make the burden feel lighter. Like no matter what, I’ll be okay as long as I have you by my side.”
You lean in, brushing a featherlight kiss across his lips. “Always. No matter what the future holds, you’re stuck with me, Leclerc.”
A slow, utterly content smile spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He steals another lingering kiss before glancing toward the pit area, where the last few stragglers are packing up for the night. “As much as I’d love to keep you all to myself, I suppose we should try to get some rest before tomorrow.”
Sliding off the tire stack, he offers you his hand, that warm gleam still dancing in his forest-colored eyes. “Though maybe we could indulge in a long, hot shower first? You know, to … unwind after such an emotionally draining evening.”
You raise an eyebrow at his transparent attempt at nonchalance, but can’t help a smirk from tugging at your lips. “Why, Mr. Leclerc, are you propositioning me?”
“Would that be so terrible?” He tugs you into his arms, leaving a trail of teasing kisses along your jaw. “After all, we did have quite the … charged conversation just now. I’d hate for all that pent-up tension to distract us on track tomorrow.”
You let out a breathless giggle as his wandering hands and lips leave tingles across your skin. “Well, when you put it that way … I suppose a nice, relaxing shower could be just what we need to clear our heads.” Looping your arms around his neck, you meet his heated gaze through lowered lashes. “Lead the way, liebling.”
Charles’ responding grin is nothing short of wolfish. “With pleasure.” Scooping you up in his arms, he heads for the parking lot at a swift pace, leaving the weight of Suzuka and its ghosts behind for the night.
***
The roar of the crowd is deafening as you bring your Ferrari across the finish line, tires smoking from the incredible pace. Your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio, congratulating you, but the words are drowned out by the thunderous cheers echoing around the Autodromo Nazionale Monza.
You can hardly believe it. Your first season with the Scuderia and you’ve just won the Italian Grand Prix — on the hallowed ground that your father once ruled. The sea of fans decked out in red is a sight to behold, celebrating wildly as you complete the cool-down lap.
Pulling into parc fermé, you kill the engine, the high-pitched whine slowly dying away. Undoing the straps, you clamber out, still trying to process what just happened. This is really real.
“You!”
The familiar voice makes you turn. It’s Charles, beaming from ear-to-ear despite settling for second place today. He pulls you into a massive hug, squeezing you tightly.
“I can’t believe you just did that! Amazing drive!”
You laugh, giddy with joy and adrenaline. “I still can’t believe it either! Everything just … clicked.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Charles chuckles, ruffling your sweat-damp hair. “You were incredible out there. Absolutely brilliant.”
Hearing the praise from your boyfriend means everything. You know how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get this far. And he’s still your biggest supporter.
The two of you finally pull apart as the rest of the team makes their presence known, congratulating you with bearhugs and massive pats on the back. You did it — you brought the victory home for Ferrari at the Temple of Speed.
After the chaos of the post-race celebrations dies down a little, it’s time for the podium ceremony. You can’t wait to stand up there, basking in the adulation of the wildly passionate Tifosi. As you make your way out with Charles and the third place finisher, the crowd’s cheers swell to a new eardrum-bursting level.
Climbing the steps, you take your spot on the top level, heart racing as you look out over the endless sea of fans. The air is filled with brilliant red smoke, passionate flag-wavers creating mesmerizing patterns. You’ve seen Grands Prix in Italy before, but being up here, having actually won — it’s on another level entirely.
Speeches are made, anthems are played, and then it’s time to crack open the podium champagne. As the bottles are picked up, a rolling chant starts building in the grandstands:
“La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”
The sound shakes you to your core. Tears instantly spring to your eyes.
Charles, beside you on the second step, grins and nudges you. “Listen to them! You’ve done it — you’ve made them fall in love with you just like they did with your father.”
Looking down at him with misty eyes, you mouth, “Thank you,” so overwhelmed that you can’t speak. He slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close. The two of you share a soft kiss as the chanting grows louder and louder.
As you pull back, gazing out over the surging tide of humanity, faces beaming up at you in adoration, it finally sinks in. This moment — winning at Monza for Ferrari, with Charles by your side, the Tifosi embracing you wholeheartedly — is beyond anything you ever could have dreamed.
The emotions pour out in waves of joy and pride and disbelief. You raise your bottle high, echoing the chants and cheering your heart out to the crowd. They roar back even louder, feeding off your energy in the way that only this group of diehard fans can.
Once the champagne showers subside, giddy fans whistling at you and Charles canoodling on the podium, it’s time to head back down. But the celebrations are just getting started. The team wants to keep the party going.
On the drive over to Maranello, you find yourself sandwiched in the backseat between Charles and your race engineer, Ricky. Everyone is grinning like maniacs, high on the thrill of victory, singing drinking songs at the top of their lungs.
“Solo per lei! Principessa di Monza!” Ricky bellows, gently elbowing you. The rest join in, filling the car with the chant of “Only for her! Princess of Monza!” You can’t stop giggling, leaning into Charles, deliriously happy.
Once you finally roll up to the factory, the party spills out of the car and into the streets. The entire workforce has turned out, waving huge Ferrari flags, beating drums and sounding air horns in celebration. You’re immediately swarmed, being passed from hug to hug as champagne is sprayed in joyful arcs.
They finally manage to sweep you, Charles, and most of your garages inside the factory, where long banquet tables have been set up in the main hall. An enormous cheer goes up as you enter, sparkling wine sloshing from hastily poured glasses all around you.
The meal that follows is a total blur — amazing food, flowing alcohol, raucous toasts, and the happiest pandemonium you’ve ever witnessed. You keep getting tugged from conversation to conversation, everyone wanting to hear how the race played out from your lips. Charles sticks by your side the whole time, looking on with sheer pride.
At one point, you end up going shot for shot with Fred Vasseur, the team principal pouring vodka like his job depends on it. “La mia principessa!” He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears of joy. “You’ve made us all so proud today!”
He hoists his glass. “To our Princess! The Princess of Monza!”
The chant starts up again all around you. “La Prin-ci-pess-a! La Prin-ci-pess-a!”
You beam at them all, squeezing Fred’s hand. No words can describe this feeling, being embraced so completely by your team — your family. This is what you’ve dreamed about since you were a little girl. Following in your father’s footsteps, bringing glory to Ferrari, carrying on the legend.
The party rages on long into the night. At some point, you lose track of time completely, delirious with exhaustion from the whirlwind of emotion.
You come around for a moment, blinking in the dim glow of the factory lights. There’s quiet rumbles of laughter around you, echoing off the walls. Looking around blearily, you realize you’ve been tucked into a makeshift bed fashioned from a pile of Ferrari t-shirts, nestled in one of the car assembly spaces.
Charles is there too, cradled against your side, one arm wrapped protectively around you. The rest of the team — your PR officers, engineers, mechanics, everyone — is strewn about in similar nests, all of them totally conked out.
With a contented sigh, you snuggle deeper into Charles’ embrace, feeling his lips brush the top of your head. This bizarre, wonderful scene seems to encapsulate everything about being part of the Ferrari family. It’s chaotic and overwhelming and unlike anything else in the world.
But most of all, it’s home.
As you start to drift back to sleep, savoring the lingering scent of champagne and motor oil, one final chant echoes in your head:
La principessa di Monza.
La principessa di Ferrari.
***
11 Months Later
The last few laps feel like they’re happening in slow motion. Every turn, every gear shift, every tiny input to the steering wheel is magnified tenfold as the circuits count down. The pressure is immense, but you’ve been here before. You can do this.
“Stay calm, stay focused,” your race engineer’s voice crackles over the radio. “The calculations look good. Just bring it home steady.”
Nodding to yourself, you downshift entering the stadium section, the roar of the massive crowd surrounding the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez swelling in your ears. This is it — your chance to join the likes of motorsport’s greatest heroes by winning the Formula 1 World Championship.
Your first victory at Monza, being crowned the “Principessa di Ferrari” by the adoring Tifosi, was a dream come true. But this … this is what you’ve worked towards since you were old enough to understand what your father achieved. To etch your name into the history books forever.
The laps tick by agonizingly. Every time the pitboard comes into view, your heart rate spikes. But you’ve got a comfortable gap to second place, managing the race perfectly. Just a few more corners now.
“Final lap, final lap,” your engineer calls out. “Looking brilliant. Stay comfortable and you’ve got this!”
You suck in a deep breath to steady your nerves. Out of the sweeping Curve 3 and onto the pit straight, the crowd’s thunderous cheers are reaching fever pitch. You can see the seas of red-clad fans absolutely losing their minds, knowing the woman they idolize is about to achieve immortality.
Crossing the finish line, you finally let out the breath you’ve been holding for what feels like ages. The emotion is overwhelming — a combination of pure elation, disbelief, and total exhaustion.
You did it.
World Champion at last!
You cruise around, yelling unintelligibly into the radio as the celebrations kick off around the circuit. There’s confetti in the air, smoke flares going off in brilliant shades of red, and a full-throated roar that could probably be heard all the way back in Europe.
Pulling into parc fermé, you switch off the car, letting the weight of the moment sink in. Tears of joy prick at your eyes as the magnitude of your achievement hits home. Ever since you were a little girl, running around watching your papa, this has been the ultimate dream for you.
And now, it’s finally happened. You’re a World Champion. Just like him.
The first person to reach you is Charles. He comes sprinting over from his own car, bounding past the marshals without a second look. One glimpse of the huge smile plastered across his face is all it takes for you to dissolve into giggles and delirious tears.
“You did it! You brilliant, brilliant woman, you did it!” He shouts, grabbing you up in his arms and spinning you around in a whirlwind hug.
“I can’t believe it, Charles! It felt like a dream … like it wasn’t really happening!”
You’re both laughing and crying at the same time, drunk on the euphoria of the moment. Clutching each other tightly, you press your foreheads together, trying in vain to compose yourselves.
“I’m so proud of you,” Charles murmurs, gazing at you with adoring eyes. “You worked so incredibly hard for this. You deserve everything.”
Surging forward, you capture his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. For a few brief moments, the two of you are alone, lost in the depth of your emotions and your all-encompassing love for each other. Nothing else in the world matters but this perfect second frozen in time.
You finally break apart, breathless, when the rest of the team sweeps in to congratulate you. They swarm around in a laughing, whooping mass, jumping up and down, hugging, chanting your name over and over.
“To our champion! The Queen!”
The cry comes from Antonio, one of the veteran mechanics who’s been with the team since your papa’s days. He clasps your hands tightly, gazing at you with pride.
“Sei la regina! The Queen of Ferrari!” He hollers over the raucous din, tears shining in his eyes. “Just like your father, you’ll reign forever!”
Your eyes start brimming over again, overwhelmed. The tears roll down your cheeks, smearing streaks of sweat and grime from the race. But you can’t stop beaming.
All at once, the rest of the crew picks up on Antonio’s declaration. Their cheers and chants coalesce into one booming refrain:
“La Re-gi-na! La Re-gi-na!”
The sheer adulation washes over you in waves, every face beaming up at you in utter reverence. You find yourself struggling to take it all in. In a few incredible seasons, you’ve elevated yourself into the realm of legend in their eyes.
Charles wraps his arms around you from behind, steadying you as your knees start to go weak. You can feel his smile radiant against your neck as he cheers and whoops right along with the rest of them.
“You hear them?” He chuckles, kissing your temple. “It’s all for you, mia regina! My Queen.”
Hearing your love, your partner, your other half call you that sets off a fresh round of giggles and sobs. Turning in his embrace, you loop your arms around his shoulders, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply.
When you finally part, you look out over the still-roaring crowd, many of them carrying elaborate signs with intricate drawings depicting you as a regal sovereign. Some have fashioned ornate crowns out of random merch and foam, holding them high. Others set off flares and smoke bombs in Ferrari red.
For a moment, their euphoric cheers fade into the background, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the rush of blood in your ears. Closing your eyes, you let the enormity of the moment wash over you, embracing the pride and humility and disbelieving joy.
This is your coronation. The new ruler of the Scuderia — la regina di Ferrari.
“La Regina di Ferrari! La Regina del Mondo!”
You can only chuckle in disbelief, Antonio and Ricky carefully taking your hands to hoist you up onto their shoulders in throne-like celebration. Charles is right by your side, standing vigil as your King Consort.
As the party spreads out around you, confetti and smoke filling the air, you look out across the ecstatic crowd. All you see are fervent faces, worshiping you as their new Queen of the World.
It’s a delirious scene that you never, ever could’ve imagined. And yet it feels so natural, so right. Like you were born to be in the center of this storm of jubilation. This is your true home.
And now, you’ve taken your rightful place as its ruler.
Mexico City burns long into the night in tribute to the newly-coronated Queen. Tomorrow, the party will likely continue all the way back to Maranello. But in this moment, you’re lost in the swirl of ecstasy, allowing yourself to be swept up in the currents of adoration.
La Regina di Ferrari.
La Regina del Mondo.
***
Eight Years Later
Jules can barely contain his excitement as you and Charles help him into the little red race suit. He’s practically vibrating with energy, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.
“Easy there, petit coureur,” Charles chuckles, ruffling Jules’ hair affectionately. “We’ll get you suited up and on the track soon enough.”
“I’m gonna beat everyone!” Jules declares confidently. You can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.
“That’s my boy,” you say with a wink. “Just like your Papa and me.”
Charles grins and pulls Jules into a hug. “We’ll see about that, won’t we? Today’s just for fun though, remember? No official points or anything.”
“I know, I know,” Jules says impatiently. “But I’m still gonna win!”
You laugh and swing him up into your arms, peppering his face with kisses until he squeals with delight. “Whatever you say, liebling. Now let’s get you out on that track!”
The three of you make your way out to the karting circuit, hand-in-hand. You can already see a small crowd starting to form along the fences, phones and cameras at the ready. A familiar scenario, even at such a low-key local event.
“Mama, Papa, look!” Jules points excitedly. “Those people want to take pictures!”
“That’s right, schatzi,” you say gently. “Your Papa and I are pretty well known in motorsports.”
“Like movie stars?” His eyes go wide.
Charles laughs. “Something like that, I suppose. More like … really famous racecar drivers.”
“Whoa ...” Jules seems to be processing this new realization. “You’re the best ever, right? The bestest?”
You share an amused look with Charles. “Well, we’ve had our fair share of success,” you hedge.
“Your mother is a multi-time World Champion,” Charles says proudly. “As am I. We did pretty okay, I think.”
“Woooaahh!” Jules looks absolutely awestruck, like his little mind has been blown. It’s both adorable and bittersweet — your own child, only just now grasping the level of your accomplishments and fame.
The crowd has grown considerably by the time you reach the pit area, people pressing against the barriers in hopes of getting a glimpse of the royal family of Maranello. A small team of event staff try valiantly to keep order, but it’s a losing battle.
“Excuse me! Y/N! Can we get a photo?”
“Charles! Over here, please!”
“Oh my god, is that little Jules? He’s so cute!”
Jules clings a bit closer to you and Charles, startled by the commotion. You pull him protectively against your side.
“It’s okay,” you murmur. “Just some fans who are excited to see us.”
Charles gives the crowd a regretful smile and a small wave before ushering you both past the security team and into the pit area. The calmer, more controlled setting seems to ease Jules’ nerves.
“Why were all those people yelling and taking pictures?” He asks with a small frown.
“Like I said, we’re pretty famous racers,” Charles explains patiently. “A lot of people know who we are and want our autographs or photos with us.”
“Like celebrities!” Jules says, the admiring light returning to his eyes.
You laugh and ruffle his hair again. “Something like that, yeah. Your Papa and I have had a very successful racing career over the years.”
“The best careers,” Charles amends with a wink at you. “Multiple world titles each.”
“World titles?” Jules looks utterly baffled by the concept. “Like … the best in the whole world?”
“Exactly,” you confirm, feeling that familiar swell of pride. “We were the fastest drivers in the world, for a few years at least.”
“Whooaa ...” Jules seems torn between awe and disbelief. “You’re like … superheroes!”
You and Charles both crack up at the adorable comparison.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Charles laughs, “but I suppose to some we come pretty close, eh?”
He scoops Jules up and swings him around, making him shriek with laughter. You watch them with a content smile, suddenly aware of how blessed you are to have this life — your incredible husband, your precious son, the career successes you both achieved. It’s more than you ever could have dreamed.
“Alright,” Papa says, setting Jules back down. “Why don’t you go grab your kart and we’ll get you out on the track? Think you can take on the world champions?”
Jules gives a determined nod, that familiar fire blazing in his eyes — the same look you’ve seen in your husband’s familiar green ones a thousand times over the years. “You bet! I’ll show you how it’s done!”
With one last hair ruffle, you send him scampering off excitedly. Charles slides an arm around your waist, pulling you close.
“He’s something else, isn’t he?” He murmurs against your temple. “So much like us at that age. I can already tell he’s going to be a hell of a driver someday.”
You lean into his embrace with a contented sigh. “He is … and just look at how the crowd reacted to him. He’s barely grasped that we’re famous, and now he’s already getting mobbed himself. Our little star in the making.”
Charles makes a rueful sound. “We’re going to have to get used to that, I suppose.”
“Oh, I think we can handle it,” you say lightly. “We’ve had plenty of practice being in the spotlight, after all.”
He laughs and drops a kiss to your hair. “That’s true enough. As long as we stick together, we can get through anything.”
“Exactly.” You turn in his arms to face him properly, cupping his jaw tenderly. “You, me, Jules … nothing else matters as long as we have each other.”
Charles’ eyes are warm with devotion as he gazes down at you. “My soulmate. My family. How did I ever get so lucky?”
He leans in to kiss you, slow and sweet, the rest of the world temporarily fading away. You lose yourself in the familiar comfort of his embrace, the love you share-
“Ewww, gross! Stop kissing!”
You break apart with a laugh to find Jules making over-exaggerated gagging noises nearby.
“And the moment’s ruined,” Charles teases, keeping an arm looped around your waist.
You bend down to Jules’ eye level with a mock stern look. “You just wait until you’re all grown up with a sweetheart of your own. Then you’ll understand.”
He scrunches up his nose theatrically. “Never! Girls are gross!”
You and Charles share an amused look.
“If you say so,” Charles chuckles. “Now let’s get that kart fired up.”
Jules’ entire demeanor shifts in an instant, that fierce competitiveness surfacing once again. He scrambles into the cockpit of his little kart and takes firm hold of the wheel, looking suddenly years beyond his age.
“You’re going down!” He declares brazenly. “I’ll leave you both in the dust!”
And just like that, the proud parents are replaced by your familiar racing mentalities — the thrill of competition, the desire to win. You share a conspiratorial grin with Charles.
“Is that so?” He taunts playfully. “In that case, no more taking it easy on you two.”
You bend down to kiss Jules’ forehead, unable to resist a parting quip. “Promise you won’t be sad … because Mama always wins.”
With that, Charles heads off to grab his own kart, leaving you and Jules alone for a brief moment. He looks up at you with shining eyes.
“You’re my hero, Mama,” he says simply. “And Papa too. I wanna be just like you when I grow up!”
You feel your heart swell fit to burst, filled with more love than you could possibly put into words. Bending down, you pull your beautiful little boy into a fierce hug, eyes shining with unshed happy tears.
“Oh liebling … you already are. You’re everything we could have dreamed of and more.”
You press a lingering kiss to the top of his head, overwhelmed with affection. When you finally pull back, there are indeed tears shining in your eyes.
“Now go show your parents what you’ve got, baby,” you say with a watery smile. “I can’t wait to see you out there.”
Jules gives you a determined nod, eyes blazing with that trademark fire. “You got it, Mama! Get ready to lose!”
With that, he slams down the visor on his helmet and revs the little engine. You step back with a laugh, watching him peel out onto the track with all the confidence and flair of a seasoned pro. Like parents, like son indeed.
By the time Charles rejoins you, his own kart idling beside yours, Jules has already completed a couple of warm up laps. You can’t resist shooting Charles a smug grin.
“Well, well … looks like the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He drives just like you.”
Charles snorts, clearly trying to downplay his obvious pride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. That’s all your genes coming through.”
You open your mouth to protest, but a sudden commotion from the fences draws your attention. The crowd has grown even larger, people pressing against the barriers with raised phones and voices calling out excitedly.
“Oh my god, it’s them!”
“They’re so cute together!!”
“Over here, please! This way!”
You share a resigned look with Charles as event staff rush to try and control the growing swarm.
“This is what it’s going to be like from now on, isn’t it?” You murmur. “Our little family, constantly in the spotlight.”
Charles shrugs, slinging an arm around your shoulders as he watches Jules blaze by. “What else is new? We’ve been there our whole careers. At least this time, we get to share the fame together … as a family.”
You lean into his side with a contented smile. Out on the track, Jules whips past in a blur of determination, completely unbothered by the fawning crowd. Just a little boy living out his dream, regardless of who his parents might be.
“You know what?” You say softly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Charles drops a kiss to your hair as the roar of the crowd and engines swells around you. “Me neither, mon amour. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
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︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱
꒰ Where are you free to begin again and believe ? ꒱
You’ve experienced an ending (possibly even multiple ones) that were very heavy. It was the kind of ending (or a string of them) that came with a lot of pain and hurt but was inevitable, something that could simply not be saved. For many of you a lot of backstabbing and betrayal took place, possibly people bitching too. It could have very well been a whole group of people disliking you or turning against you. I’m strongly getting that you’ve often experienced people not liking you for any reason at all. For many of you, all of this took place at the same time (betrayal, people disliking you for no reason, etc.) You’ve lost a lot or at least feel a strong sense of loss (or have had to feel that way at some point). You have many deep wounds and right now, life seems to be more peaceful for you. However, you’re worn out, tired and disappointed. I need to give you a virtual pat on the back for the way you seem to be handling the situation though. You let things end even though you had to reach the lowest possible point mentally. You allowed yourself time and space to heal and recover. You have always been the type to try your best so you were just like “nothing more can be done now, I tried my best”. Right now, you’re really focused on yourself and your own internal values. Your energy is still not the most harmonious but the way you’re dealing with things seems to make it all harmonious again. You have released many fears and are still doing so. ‘I look to you’ by Whitney Houston is coming through for some reason. You’ve reached a point where you have a harder time trusting people and doubt loyalty but it doesn’t seem to be negative, obviously there are days when the voices do get to you but you’re able to tame them. It’s just that going forward, you want to choose and do what’s best for you. You’re still struggling emotionally but it’s only so that you can do even better going forward and yes, you have dealt with this situation really well. You should be proud of yourself because some of us wouldn’t have been able to think straight if we were in your place. You seem to know that whatever you lost wasn’t that great to begin with and every loss of yours has only led to more wins but one thing that I need to make you aware of is that everyone who lost you has received the biggest L, even if at that time, they were having the time of their lives, you’ve clearly won. You’re free to begin again. What has passed has passed. You’re free to, in fact, you have every right to believe that being in your life and someone having you in their life is a privilege. You’re free to believe that trust needs to be earned. You’re free to believe that you’ve had a string of bad connections and that their words, and actions hurt you so you have every right to feel bad and not want anything to with them. You’re free to believe that you don’t have to fully forgive someone to move on. You’re free to stand up for yourself and not feel bad for doing so. Even if you made a mistake, if someone is going overboard with punishing you by treating you shitty and disrespecting you, you have every right to stand up for yourself as long as you’re still aware of what you did wrong and are holding yourself accountable instead of acting as though you’ve never hurt a fly. You’ve walked away and surrendered which is the best that you could have done, I’m proud of you. You’re free to not want to communicate maturely with those who refused to communicate maturely with you in the past. You’ve always had a personality where you don’t mind compromising for those you love and because it comes so naturally to you, you don’t even bother to voice it out.
However, just because you don’t talk the talk, instead you just walk the walk, people act as though your sacrifices were not big. You’re allowed to have resentments against people as long as you don’t burden yourself. You’re free to find peace in the fact that you’re a great and loving person who has never minded giving up their ego for a greater good, that you’ve always looked at yourself and your loved ones as a team and that’s not a bad quality, you just didn’t know better and had people who weren’t the same as you, around yourself and that’s okay. You’re free to believe and know that you were not being difficult or trying to pick fights, you were trying to fix things because you really cared and wanted to give, and do your best. You’re free to forgive yourself for not voicing out your needs sooner. You’re free to not want to forgive some people, you’re free to deny that you weren’t even involved with certain people if that’s what brings you peace. Remember that the past doesn’t even exist, no one can narrate and decide your story except you, and the truth is, people cannot exist in your reality unless you let them ;). You’re free to not have empathy for those who didn’t have empathy for you. You’re free to be rude and standoffish with those who deserve it. You’re free to believe that it’s okay for people to leave such a bitter taste in your mouth that you wouldn’t want to help them even if they were living out their last few days with a beating heart. You’re allowed to believe that you’re not always the bad person, no matter how much you’ve been villainised, you’ve always tried to watch your actions and when you did make mistakes, you always tried to make up for them, and usually, you didn’t even do anything wrong. You’ve often had people hate you because they’re envious of and feel inferior to you in some way but then they try to make it seem as though it’s your mistakes and actions that they hate you for. You’ve had people trying to isolate you, you’ve had people telling mutuals not to talk to you, you’ve had people trying to turn people against you just for the thrill of putting you down because it’s fun to try to bring down someone who they feel inferior to, it makes them feel superior, watching you question yourself but what they don’t seem to know is that you question yourself to better yourself because you don’t view mistakes as unforgivable sins, you want to take accountability, make amends, do whatever you can to repair the damage that you may have done and do better in the future instead of drowning in self guilt like they want you to 😭. Even if you did temporarily fall into self guilt, you managed to come right out and you always will. You’re free to believe that you’re a good person, you’re free to have faith in your own greatness and embrace your mistakes in a way where you put it all behind yourself, understand that however others have treated you has been wrong as well. You’re free to believe that you’re a good person no matter how many unethical things you may have done, no matter how much others have tried to villainise you. You’re allowed to be cold to those who used your mistakes to try to get you to break. If I was you, I would avoid doing anything that I could possibly regret doing in the future. You’re free to understand that many of your past actions have been shitty but those who jumped to try and knock you down to a peg were not saints either. If they did have a problem with what you did, they would discuss your actions, not your character, they just had a problem with you, and they would sure as hell not gang up against and isolate you. You are allowed to leave your past behind (including any of the actions that you’re not proud of) and do better in the future. Just remember, you’re always free to begin again and you’re always free to believe. When you find the place where your heart belongs, you’ll never leave.
꒰ What’s the destiny that’s written in your heart ? ꒱
The destiny that’s written in your heart is to be seen. Many of you are interested in lifestyles that bring about a lot of eyes on you (possibly being a public figure). I don’t even think that you need to be known on a wide scale, it’s about the expression and success for you. You want to be able to make people happy and help them remain optimistic during hard times. You’re also supposed to be very generous. I just heard that the destiny that’s written in your heart is to belong to everyone, not in a negative way but in a way where everyone has a piece of the good deeds you’ve done inside their hearts and so you belong to them in some capacity. You’re supposed to have a lot of personal integrity and just be an abundant person overall. Even if you are not a public figure or an aspiring one, you’re supposed to be the light in many people’s lives. Due to how you’re going to belong to everyone, you’re also going to have to prioritise your alone time. To you, the time that you spend by yourself is going to be very precious. There are going to be people who are going to want to come into your life in order to dim your light and you’re going to have to find peace in life again and again. YES, PEOPLE ARE GOING TO ACTIVELY TRY TO ADD LACK OF PEACE INTO YOUR LIFE 😍. You’re meant to grow to be someone who’s not really that problematic. Which is why, you may have to step out of character a lot as a teen and early adult, you’ll have to learn how to stay firm in wanting to protect your peace and keep your character strong. Your destiny is to remain firm in your karma and have a strong sense of integrity. You’re supposed to learn how to protect your energy because you will have a lifestyle where you sort of belong to everyone but that’s not realistic, there are only certain people who deserve you in their lives, so you’ll have to learn how to balance it all. Karma is really big in your spread. You’re someone who’s experienced karma, often immediately. You’re supposed to learn many life lessons and lead a life of integrity. Your destiny if you manage to harness it, is to attain status and power but you’ll consistently have to work on balancing different aspects of your life (because you’re going to have it all). I hope that you enjoyed the reading and that it resonated, much love and take care, until next time 💗.
︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱
꒰ Where are you free to begin again and believe ? ꒱
Right away, you could be coming from pile 1. If not, much like the previous pile, you’ve undergone an ending too. Yes, this is in fact the ending of whatever situation or situations that took place but that’s the good news, that’s what you’re free to begin from again. When you’re at the lowest, the only place to go to is upwards ;). Who had potato and egg curry/likes it? Maybe, someone here is going to cook it or the dish holds some significance to you? It just randomly came through, doesn’t have to resonate for everyone. The ending doesn’t seem to be singular honestly, I feel like there was a whole cycle of multiple endings that took place but with many delays. If you ever find yourself feeling guilty about not getting over it or feel as though it’s your fault because you delayed these cycles, please be kinder to yourself. When things end, you’re left empty but what happens when a container is left empty? It gives room for new stuff to fill up that space. It’s important for you to not dwell on this ending - the guilt of not ending it sooner, wishing it had never ended, the emptiness you feel, etc. You’re free to begin from everything you’ve ever known because there is so much more in the future, in fact, even in the present itself for you to know. If you’re refusing to end a cycle, you’re only making it harder on yourself, I hope that you’ll be able to start again, no matter how much time it may take. Some of you feel guilty towards yourself because you know that you’re over it, you’re just not letting yourself let go completely. It’s become a habit to think about it, feel certain emotions when you reminisce so it feels foreign for you to move on and feel peace. Even if you’re still emotionally attached to the past, make the conscious effort to move forward. Please remember “no closure is a closure”. No matter how stagnant you feel or have felt, no matter how long you’ve felt it for, no matter how familiar the feeling is to you, you’re free to get out of this energy. Even if you feel as though you were unable to make the most out of your potential so far, even if you feel as though you haven’t achieved much, no matter how disappointed you’ve felt in yourself, don’t burden yourself with such feelings. You’re free to move on and achieve a lot going forward. “Though you may not know where your gifts may lead and it may not show in the start, when you live your dream, you’ll find destiny is written in your heart.” Why are you so concerned about everyone? Why do you try to make things right with your actions even if you aren’t interested in maintaining certain connections? It’s because you’ve achieved a lot when it comes to character. If you feel misunderstood even though you’ve done a lot for others without even talking about it because that’s just you, if you felt betrayed, it’s them, not you. Fight against their opinions, they just dislike how you stand for the things that wish they stood for, they also dislike how you are the way they wish to be in some capacity.
Continue soaring forward with courage, resilience and conviction. You’re allowed to want what you want without always having to adjust to other people’s needs, desires, personalities, lifestyles and actions. Even if you may feel like you’ve betrayed yourself in the past, know that you were living by your truth of loving and keeping your actions in check, you’re always free to begin again and live more truthfully to yourself. In fact, now you know a lot more than you did back then, isn’t that in itself a blessing? Never let anyone influence you and your approach to interpersonal connections. You’re likely a more long term kinda person due to how much you pour into everything and everyone. You’re free to believe that you’re a great person even if you aren’t breaking your leg to please others. At this point, you likely know well enough about that because you seem to have a pretty strong sense of self or are developing it (and have been making good progress with it). You’re free to stand up for yourself and your beliefs. It’s time to be your most honest and authentic self now. You’ve likely started feeling called to it already. No matter how much pressure is placed upon you or how much you’re criticised or blamed, you’re allowed to believe in yourself. You’re allowed to have boundaries and to be fairly protective of yourself. You’re allowed to want to be pursued and want to be courted romantically. You’re allowed to desire to be wooed off your feet xD. You’re allowed to follow whatever your heart’s calling is. You’re allowed to move forward acting more graceful and strong in character and even physically if you’d like. You’re allowed to move your attention onto better things if whatever you’re focused on is affecting you negatively. You’re allowed to repeat mistakes as long as you manage to learn from them in the end. “I think all of us wanna feel something that we’ve forgotten or turned our backs on because maybe we didn’t realise how much we were leaving behind.” It’s okay to make sacrifices, it’s okay to make wrong decisions, it’s okay to learn, that’s how life is. You’re free to desire and believe in a true and deep love connection that you know exists because you’re full of the love that you wish to receive. You’re free to desire a deep connection full of mutual admiration, respect and love. You’re free to want to share your life with someone, just make sure that you’re not going into it with desperation. Your standards are not too high as long as you know that you’re asking for what you can give out. You’re free to want to be around wise people. You’re free to want to have a romantic connection with someone controlled, wise, ethical and respectable. You don’t have to feel bad about taking certain things seriously even if those around you don’t. Like supposing sex is a big thing for you, in this generation that’s kind of rare but it’s okay, do right by yourself. You’re free to have an impartial judgment in the beginning for your own good. You’re free to vet out and choose who deserves to be in your life and who doesn’t. It’s okay to want to strengthen your own character and reputation. You’re free to craft yourself and your life however you want, it’s your life to live.
꒰ What’s the destiny that’s written in your heart ? ꒱
The destiny that’s written in your heart is to leave the past behind. You’re the pile that will either deal with extreme loneliness or isolation of some sort that will only lead to you changing and growing emotionally. If you feel like most things have not worked out for you, please just know that whatever has not worked out is exactly why thing’s are working out for you, you’re going to see it while you’re living your destiny. Somehow, no matter what you go through, no matter how many times you’re hurt, betrayed, etc. you are meant to only continue to become more loving. The more you hurt, the more you learn how to love (yourself and others) is the energy that I’m getting. It’s important for you to be in touch with the present rather than staying stuck on anything from the past, don’t even hold onto the regrets, that’s how you’re blocking your own destiny. You might be the pile that got shamed for being emotional at some point and being too nonchalant at another, you’re going to get closer to yourself which will ultimately lead you to being more in tune with your own emotional nature. The more you’ll grow, the more you’ll embrace and learn just how much of a blessing it is to choose to be ever loving in a bitter world that wants you to be bitter as well. The way you are, your sensitive nature, the way you feel, the way you love, the amount of devotion and loyalty you give out has led you to being hurt, disappointed and regretful several times. There have been times when people have terribly embarrassed because you tried to see the best in them. The clown emoji is coming through, gosh 🤡😭. However, the destiny that’s written in your heart is strongly intertwined with loving and loyalty, you value genuine connections and are extremely compassionate, as you grow older, you’ll learn how to not make everyone’s problems your own. You’re meant to learn healthy boundaries as you grow older, you’ll learn how to extend your love and compassion towards yourself, that’s how you’ll unlock a major part of your destiny. You’re supposed to come in terms with the fact that maybe you weren’t the problem after all. You seem to have taken “the world is your family” too literally, you take on everyone’s problems and sorrows, and try to love and help everyone. Especially when younger, that was what you were like.
As you grow older and finally realise that maybe you weren’t the problem after all, you’ll start seizing opportunities as you let go of regret. It’s going to be a bittersweet but beautiful time. No matter what you may go through, you’ll only gain more self awareness due to it. You’ll start focusing on the more positive aspects of life and yourself. You’ll eventually start having gratitude and find your zest for life again. You’ll learn that you’re not everyone’s mother or caregiver and that what you bring to the table, and who you are is deeply valuable. You’re destined to learn just a little selfishness, not in a sense of only caring about yourself but in a sense of putting yourself first. I’m not sure why but your sex drive keeps on coming through. You either masturbate quite a bit or well, just have a high libido xD. You might have started masturbating much younger than most as well. Doesn’t have to resonate but that’s what came through. I wouldn’t be surprised if this pile has a mother wound or just female figures being unsupportive and problematic towards you. It’s definitely not going to be everyone but you may find yourself having a bad experience with many female figures while growing up. It could be something as simple as you think that you’re good with a certain girl or woman just to find out that they dislike you. You’re meant to have it all, abundance in the truest senses. That’s the destiny that’s written in your heart. You may be the pile that’s not afraid to dream and not just dream but also try your best to execute it. If you have to give up on your dreams for whatever reason, you may feel terribly wrong from within. The destiny that’s written in your heart is a lot of domestic bliss as well. You’re meant to have people who accept and understand your differences in your life. You’re meant to be emotionally content. The reason why you have a hard time with short term, casual stuff is because you’re meant to experience long term deep attachments. The reason you’re so loyal, feel so deeply and know how to be dedicated is because you’re supposed to find worthy enough people to form such lovely and long term connections with. You’re passionate, don’t even try to suppress that true nature of yours by trying to explore some half hearted stuff. You’re well rounded so you’re meant to experience a well rounded life - a blissful home life, a great career, a strong personality and being proud of yourself, you’re meant to have it all. All of this is the destiny that’s written in your heart. I hope that you enjoyed the reading and that it resonated, much love and take care, until next time 💗.
︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ꒱
꒰ Where are you free to begin again and believe ? ꒱
This could be the pile that may have lost their way temporarily or were unable to focus on things that mattered at some point (education, money, career, etc.) You’re free to start again when it comes to education and your goals (educational, career, character, skills, so on and so forth). It’s time for you to believe in your own maturity and sense of independence. You’re free to begin again no matter how many times you may have quit or lost your path. You’re a very responsible person who is focused on building something for yourself right now. You’re free to take on this identity wholly and start/continue showing up consistently for yourself. Maybe you used to be like this as a child, you had all your priorities in place but as you grew up, you started burning out or something just caused you to stray off your path. It’s okay, as long as you get back on track. You’ve always been a very helping and trustworthy person with a strong will. You used to be really reliable, responsible and ambitious even as a kid. Even if you feel like you’ve disappointed yourself, it’s never too late to get back to yourself and your goals. Believe in and stay firm in your own karma (actions/deeds). A routine would really help you. You’re free to start trying to make the most out of your potential. Maybe, you were pushed into a period of solitude causing you to realise that you need to get back on track? It doesn’t have to be for everyone, it’s only for a select few of you. You might have ended up overindulging at some point when younger which led you to straying from your path. It could be an overindulgence of anything - liquor, heartbreak, friends, freedom, etc. You may have wasted that time but the fact that you know what it feels like to enter such an energy means that you’ll avoid it going forward. It’s good that you’ve managed to live such different lifestyles and take on such different identities, just to get back to being yourself and realising that you always knew who you were, and that life is a lot about having the courage to live as who you truly are. If you don’t have a social life or have too much of it (envy, rivalry, lack of approval but also people around you) causing you to either think too much or not have enough space to think, just remember that you’re free to begin again. If you don’t have much of a social life currently, you’ve dealt with envy, rivalry, lack of approval, disappointments, end of friendships, etc. before.
Some of you may be going through it right now, if yes, you’re free to begin again, trust me, it’s going to get better ;). You’re free to believe that your next relationships (platonic and romantic) are going to be great ones. You’re free to believe that change is coming in and it’s going to be big, and in the best way possible. Patience is important here though. Don’t settle and don’t give into desperation or urges of any sort. You’re free to begin again when it comes to self improvement. You’re free to put the past behind you and patiently make the most out of the present while looking forward to a bright future. You’re free to explore and expand beyond what you thought your interests and aesthetics were limited to. You’re free to claim fulfilment. You’ve overcome so much, give yourself a little pat on the shoulder, will you? You’re allowed to go with the flow of things while consistently working on whatever you want. Consistency and patience are guaranteed to reward you as long as you use your brain and abilities to the fullest. Plan but don’t stay stuck on the planning phase. You’re doing so well, please be proud of yourself as well. While others may talk about how much they’ve done, how they are, like they may really boast it, you don’t boast because that’s just innately in you and why would you boast about something that’s just natural to you? BUT THEY’RE REALLY BIG TRAITS AND THINGS IN REAL LIFE! You’re free to let go of extremism in order to find peace. You’re free to make peace with situations even if they were one sided. You’re free to reprioritise and have faith in your priorities even if your priorities were not in the right places for a while. You’re free to move on from the life that was not flowing correctly. You’re free to heal completely even if no one witnessed it and you’re free to feel proud of yourself even if there was no one to witness how much you’ve grown. All work, no play will make you a dull one, please try to strike a good balance between studies/work and life. You’re free to try to manage life better. Your past does not exist, it does not matter. Believe in yourself and your dreams, your hopes and wishes will come true as long as you’re willing to work for them. You’re free to move forward with more confidence and passion, grabbing opportunities and communicating well. You’re likely already a great communicator, if not through speech, it may be through writing but believe in yourself, it’s better to go after the life you want rather than convincing yourself that you’re happy with an average life. Remember, you’re always free to begin again and you’re always free to begin, when you find the place that your heart belongs, you’ll never leave.
꒰ What’s the destiny that’s written in your heart ? ꒱
The destiny that’s written in your heart is quite interesting. You’ve always desired to be looked up to. There’s something traditional and old school that you want, the old school romance, the old school love, the old school family, whatever it may be. It’s because it’s in your destiny. You could be someone who doesn’t enjoy having jokes made about them or didn’t like them when younger. You do not appreciate being the butt of any joke due to how much you value mutual respect. It’s in your destiny to love and adore, and to be loved and adored. You’re likely the marriage type. You want an equal and all encompassing love in which your partner treats you like their own and you treat them like your own. You desire to operate with your partner as a team, a family, united and with each other instead of egoistic and against each other. It’s because you’re destined for that. You’re meant to have a reluctance to explore anything that’s not deep and intense (romantically). You’re meant to have moments when you feel unsuccessful, like you’ve not achieved much, like you’ve not been able to live up to your potential so that you can find it in you to strive towards it. At some point, you’re going to be like “I’ve always known who I am, who I want to be. I’ve always known what was right and yet I strayed off.” That was meant to happen so that you can be more confident in who you are. Due to your deep emotions and the way you feel responsible for everyone and everything, and you desire to have an ethical and good character, you tend to be confused a lot because people try to make you think that you’re doing something wrong? That’s the entire reason why you strayed off your path in the first place. You’re going to be pressured into making decisions without knowing what it is that you truly want. You’re going to find yourself being very emotionally overwhelmed at some point because you also have a tendency to feel things deeply. You won’t know what it is that you truly want. There will be a point where you’ll wonder if you even have faith in yourself at all. You might get severely betrayed at some point when younger, likely by multiple people but might have mixed feelings regarding them because the situations will just be so cloudy. Also, you’re a genuinely really good person so your desire for connection will lead you to treat people as if they are in the same team as you even if they aren’t because you will not be aware of it, you’ll have their best interests at heart but when all of this rose tinted glasses, confusion, fog or whatever you want to call it fades away, you’ll feel as though you lived in an illusion for a quite a while. You’re someone who has a lot of enemies due to your naturally great character. In this world, many people enjoy tearing each other down, you’ll have to learn how to strategically move through life. You’re able to be very strategic, it’s just that you have ethics and morals, and care about people so you try not to hurt them. You’re going to have to learn how to be yourself and follow your path unapologetically no matter who it hurts.
Many of your friends tend to envy you and want similar things that you want, possibly even love interests, don’t feel guilty about doing and choosing what’s best for you. Most of these people desire to be better than you because they do dislike you to some capacity, one more reason to not feel bad. You’re meant to be courageous enough to go for what you want, even if it might cause you to end up in scandals or ostracised because at the end, you manage to gain so much from it, in every way. “You need to be cold to be queen, keep your eyes on the price, Jenny Humphrey. You cannot make people love you but you can make them fear you.” You have had friends who turned out to be envious of you at some point. In fact, you often attract people like this but it does help you grow. You are going to learn how to be selfish with these people. With those who do deserve your love and view you as a team, you’re going to treat them as if they were you, you’re going to give them the best and will try your best to be there for them. Those who see and understand you are going to have your back at all times. You’re going to change and grow a lot through all the envy and one sided rivalry driven conflicts but that will only get you to be more morally driven. You’re going to become more empathetic, trustworthy and a great adviser to those who deserve it, and a selfish, cold person to those who don’t. That’s kind of your destiny because when you’re going to be all kind and giving, having the best interest of everyone at heart, viewing them as a team, they’re going to undervalue you and take you for granted. They’re going to abuse your generosity and giving nature, they’ll also be mean to you, as if nothing you give is enough for them, even though you’re probably the best that they will find but you’ll likely learn the lesson of putting yourself quite young (by your early twenties) because you’ll have already experienced a lot by then. You’re probably meant to be very charitable though. Also, the deep connections that you’ll have (both romantic and platonic) and I mean the healthy, non confusing and lasting ones, they’ll be sacred to you. Those people will understand you on a whole different level and will treat you with such care, it’s touching. You truly do deserve this kind of love. I’m so happy for you. When someone is like you, many will dislike you for your greatness while others will want to find both - more of your greatnesses and your weaknesses in order to love you, in order to have you in their life, in order to be in your life because they’ll see you as someone to treasure, because they’ll grow to love you more and more, the more they get to know you. This is sweet, isn’t it? You’re going to start craving strong and mutual love quite young and you’ll start having a mature approach to relationships. It’s likely because you spent quite some time in illusions while what you were giving out was very real so you’ll crave that same realness because you’ll know that you deserve it. Yes, you will receive it as long as you don’t bend into settling and staying stuck in illusions. All of this is the destiny that’s written in your heart. I hope that you enjoyed the reading and that it resonated, much love and take care, until next time 💗.
#intuitive readings#pick a card#pick a deck#pac#tarot pac#pac reading#pick a photo#tarot pick a card#tarotblr
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I Can Do It With A Broken Heart
pairing: grid x reader, ex x reader
a/n: i changed the lyrics up a bit bc we don’t simp after guys, they simp after us like the queens we are
masterlist ttpd masterlist
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The cameras flash as you step out of your uber, sparkly party dress and a fake smile plastered on your face. You just won at Imola so you can’t skip out on the after party.
“Lights, camera, bitch smile,” you repeat in your head as you walk into the club and make your way to the bar.
“Shots for the winner!” Lando yells, you kinda miss when he was awkward and didn’t know how to be social.
“Great idea, Norris!” you yell back, throwing the shot back. You know there will be cameras on you all night as you party, so you take up your motto. Fake it until you make it.
“Another one!” Yuki cheers. Another shot to drown out your pain.
“Kid, how are you doing?” Lewis pulls you aside, as you hear someone say that you are having the time of your life.
“I can show them lies,” you say through your smile. Your former teammate knows better, he was there when you found out anyway.
“The fucking bastard!” you throw your stuffed animal at the wall from the spot on the floor where you cry. You got a text from an unknown number, well a picture. Your boyfriend clearly in bed with another girl. You delete the text and let yourself cry.
Lewis walks into your room, immediately sitting beside you and holding you as you cry. He’s the only person besides you and the person who sent the picture that knows about that photo.
“He said he’d love me all his life,” you sobbed and Lewis rubs your back.
“He’s dead to us now,” Lewis’ words are a strange comfort, not mourning the short relationship.
“All my fans keep asking when I’m going to win again, as if I didn’t just win today,” you hide your grimace with a smile.
“They are never satisfied, they always want more,” Lewis emphasizes.
“That’s okay, it just means I get to party like it’s my birthday,” you grin, walking back to the bar.
You didn’t handle the breakup like you should’ve, instead of confronting him, you chose to ghost him, change the locks on your doors, and change your number. You were never public, so it wasn’t able to ruin your reputation.
“Ma’am, there is a guy here for you, claiming to be your boyfriend. Should I let him up?” the doorman asks, he’s new so you stop your crying session and answer.
“Boyfriend? I don’t have one, tell him I’m not home and don’t let him in again,” you say, wiping away the tears so you can get ready to go out to a party. Alcohol is your vice of choice to cope with your broken heart.
As you sift through your drawers for a top, you find one of his shirts, crucial evidence that you didn’t imagine the short relationship. After all, you could pass a test on all the sleep deprived and alcohol induced delusions you’ve had since the breakup.
You hold your breath for a second, debating what to do with it. It is a comfy shirt after all, but the fireplace looks so inviting. Lighting a match, you toss it with the shirt into the fireplace, setting the wood and shirt on fire.
The next day you step out at fancy sponsorship event, cameras flashing as you pose on the red carpet. George slides into the spot beside you, taking on his duty as teammate and older brother figure.
“Fake it till you make it,” George reminds you softly, noticing your faltering PR smile.
“I’m a tough kid, I can handle my shit,” you tell him with a smile, mostly reassuring yourself. Your stilettos are killing you already, but you have to walk in them all night so you can’t take them off.
You find yourself in conversation with the sponsor, without Toto or George.
“We hope you keep winning, win more, get more money,” the older man says with a tight smile, trying to be lighthearted but failing.
“I have been hitting that mark lately,” you reply with the same tight lipped smile. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your ex with a new girl on his arm. The same man that said he’d love you for all time. “Excuse me,” you quickly set a hand on his shoulder as a goodbye, escaping to the empty outdoor balcony.
You can feel the walls closing in as you slide to the ground, taking deep breaths of the fresh air. You barely notice when George sits beside you, rubbing your back.
“He doesn’t have a right to make you cry, or show up here,” George says quietly after a minute. He and Toto know how miserable you are, and this isn’t helping.
“He’s so obsessed with me, and I can’t keep avoiding him, it’s draining,” you wipe the tears from your cheeks.
“You just need to show him how well you are doing without him, even if to you it’s fake. But in my opinion, you are. You have been driving better, and winning on the track. You’ve helped us land three new sponsors, and the only people who know how miserable you are is Toto and I,” George starts to tangent before stopping himself.
“You know you are good when you can do it with a broken heart,” you chuckle, feeling a little better. George pats your knee before standing up.
“I’ll be inside, come in when you are ready,” he says, stepping inside. You pull out your phone and make sure you look like you haven’t been crying. With a newfound boost of confidence, thanks to George, you step in looking better than you have in a while.
“Try and come for my job,” you say to yourself with a bit of a smile.
“Ah, there she is! This is my driver, Y/n L/n. Y/n, this is a sponsorship representative from Monster,” Toto says, pulling you into the conversation. From his body language, you know he is concerned about you, but you make sure he knows you are okay. And you do, because you take home yet another grand prix that weekend, feeling better than you have all season.
#f1 imagines#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 grid#f1 grid x reader#george russell#lewis hamilton#george russell x reader#lewis hamilton x reader
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You get jealous when Katsuki talks about Burnin.
600 words
Internships started back up and they were even more challenging than last time. The pro heroes had a good idea of what your classes could handle now, so the training was even more intense.
After the past days of non-stop hero work, your body collapsed into bed. You didn't think your bed had ever felt so comfortable.
You wondered if your other classmates' internships were as strenuous. Katsuki's at least had to be, after all, he was interning at Endeavor's.
You reached for your phone to send him a text.
[You] Hey, how is your internship going?
[Katsuki] Awful. I'm losing my goddamn mind here.
[You] Oh shit- what's going on?
Your phone rang as a call from Katsuki came through. Eagerly you answered.
"Hey," you greeted him.
"Fucking hate texting," he stated.
"I know," you chuckled. "So, what happened?" you asked.
"Had dinner at Endeavor's house the other day," he mumbled into the phone.
"What!? How was that?!" You asked.
"Fucking weird- they got a lot of family drama. It was stupid to bring me and Deku into it. Fucking rude not to keep your shit together when ya got guests. HA! And I thought my family had problems," he said.
"That bad, hu? Come on tell me the details, what were they fighting about?" You pleaded.
"Tch- you're nosey as hell ya know that? What the hell do you care anyway?" He asked.
"Endeavor is the number one hero now! It's- interesting to hear that his family life is trash when his career is so good," you explained.
"Yeah- sounds like that's what the problem is. He was an absent father I guess... I don't know- it's not my damn business and I don't care about that crap. I'm here to get stronger not fucking be on a drama show," Katsuki spoke.
"He taught you anything good yet?" You asked.
Katsuki grunted into the phone, "Nah- we've been having to try and beat him to the scene of a villain. But- he's so goddamn fast it pisses me off- and then that damn sidekick of his gets on my fucking nerves."
"What's he like?" You asked wanting to hear more about Endeavor's sidekick.
"She," Katsuki corrected you. "Fucking annoying. She's a strong hero I guess but she's too damn loud all the time."
"Oh.... what does she look like?" You asked, trying to keep the growing insecurity out of your voice.
"Hah? Why? What the hell does that matter?" Katsuki asked confused by your question.
"I'm just curious," you lied.
"It's Burnin' you've probably seen her in the news before, she's a pretty famous sidekick... Wait- are you jealous or something?" Katsuki asked, picking up on the tone in your voice.
"What!? No!" You exclaimed into the phone, but it was too late. Katsuki had picked up on your insecurity.
"I already told ya she's damn annoying, didn't I?" Katsuki said, his way of saying you were dumb for feeling insecure about the sidekick.
"Yeah, but you say that about everyone," you pointed out.
"That's not true," Katsuki challenged you. "I... don't say that about your ass," he mumbled voice lower than before.
Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you shifted in bed. "I miss you," you said, your voice equally as low.
"Tch- don't press your luck... You ain't getting that sappy shit out of me," he grumbled voice rough again. "It's getting late, we should rest."
"Yeah," you agreed hesitantly. He was right you both had to be up early tomorrow to be back at internships, but you didn't want to hang up.
"I'll talk to ya later," he said and paused for a moment before continuing. "I... guess I miss you too or whatever. Good night." He concluded and hung up before you could make any remarks on his sentimental words.
sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @peachsukii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99 @jays-adventure3
#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki x y/n#katsuki x you#katsuki x reader#bnha katsuki#katsuki bakugo#katsuki#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugou#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki fluff#bakugo x gender neutral reader#mha bakugo x reader#bakugo x self insert#bakugo x you#bakugo x y/n#bakugo x reader#bakugo#bakugou x reader#bakugo katuski#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou#bakugou x you#mha x y/n#mha x gender neutral reader#mha x you#mha x reader
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busy signal
fem!reader x huening kai x choi yeonjun
synopsis: yeonjuns away on a trip and sends you a suggestive photo leaving you needing the help of your other boyfriend kai to take care of you.
warnings: 🔞!! established relationship, trouple/poly, phone sex, breeding kink if you squint, size kink if you squint, praise, nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms (f!rec), oral (f!rec), unprotected sex, creampie, use of the name baby, love, and the word slutty is used once.
wc: 4.7k oops
an: this is my first post on tumblr and first time writing anything with k-pop idols. feedback is appreciated :))
in the middle of class your phone gave a deafening jingle in the silent room. for the better part of the day your phone had not gone off meaning you didn’t know the ringer was waiting to interrupt your lesson. waiting for the perfect time to make you flustered as you tried to dig it out of your over-cramped bag to shut it off.
by the time you grab it, the class is watching as your cheeks turn pink stitching it to silent. the professor clears their throat to catch everyone’s attention again as you look at the message that embarrassed you.
thinking of you <333
the photo attached is enough to make your blush burn your ears. Yeonjun had an away game this week in Chicago. Kai and you were unable to make it because of your class schedules, and every time he went away with the hockey team he made sure to fill your phone with lude photos and audios. in his words to “make sure you don’t forget about me.”
so now you were not only embarrassed for the outburst but feeling needy all at once. Yeonjun was leaning back shirtless on his hotel bed fisting his hard cock through the thin material of his underwear.
you clicked your phone off as fast as you could hoping no one saw the photo and if they did it had been too quick to know exactly what it was. but you knew instantly because it was one of Yeonjuns favorite poses and he knew it was one of your favorites.
You still had thirty minutes in class left and a bike ride home where you were sure to call Yeonjun to chew him out knowing he has your schedule memorized. for now you slumped in your seat pushing your thighs together to relieve yourself, if only slightly because as class went on the only thing you could think about was Yeonjun and his teasing.
when you do call Yeonjun he chuckles over the line “I’m sorry the time difference has me all messed up,”
“I was so embarrassed,” your tone is on the edge of a whine and you can practically hear Yeonjun smile.
“Did I make you all hot and bothered in theoretical physics?”
“junnie,” you drag the name out and he chuckles again.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” you can hear one of his teammates calling for him, “I’ll call you tonight maybe I can walk you through your little problem,”
“I don’t have a problem,” but it’s a lie and he knows it. your bike ride having made it all the more obvious how needy you really are, the seat pushing the seam of your jeans right against your clit uncomfortably.
“liar,” he sings, “if you can’t wait until tonight you do have Kai waiting at the apartment. he could fix your problem,”
“I don’t have a problem for anyone to fix,” you say, making it to your apartment and locking your bike up. “and kai is busy you shouldn’t be making me his to handle when you did this to me,”
“So you admit it,” grin in his voice.
“Yeonjun-“
“yes yes I know no teasing you cross country but hey you have two boyfriends for a reason. now I have to go, I love you!” he hung up before you could reply.
kai, Yeonjun, and you have been a trouple since high school and friends for far longer. it was not unusual in your relationship for Yeonjun to pass you off to Kai seeing as both of you tended to be a bit shy around each other when it came to sex unless it was the right circumstances i.e being drunk or just being extra clingy. kai and you are always cuddling and close. you love it when he touches you but Yeonjun is usually there to guide the two of you together, that one extra push to set the two of you in motion. you mostly think this is because the three of you started this way in the first place making it the norm.
you push open the door to your shared apartment kicking off your shoes and handing your keys on the hook. Kai's penguin keychain is already in its place showing he’s home. The only light coming from the office down the short hallway, the curtains closed against the setting sun. Padding your way over to the office you see Kai with his rumpled brown hair typing on his keyboard. He had a long paper due by midnight and had been working on it the past week, even last night he had only made it to bed around two in the morning.
you toss your school bag next to your empty desk on the opposite side of Kai’s before leaning over his seat to wrap your arms around him in a hello. “working hard huening?” you ask, pressing the side of your face into his hair. He tilts his chin in a way signaling to peck his check all without him taking his eyes away from the screen.
“nearly done,”
“Have you been staring at the screen all day?” you ask, taking in his squinted eyes and dark circles. “Did you eat anything since I left this morning?”
“some jelly I found in the fridge,” he nods.
“You can’t survive only on jelly,” you press on more kisses to his cheek before pulling away, “I’ll order takeaway for dinner but for now I’m going to try and nap,” he nods away, never leaving the essay the entire time. you are halfway out the door when he speaks up, “Did you talk to Hyung? Did his game go well?” and you’re brought back to the photo on your phone. kai would have been able to see how red you had gotten if he had looked your way. you weren't wearing a bra under your sweatshirt, your tank top being sufficient enough but your nipples are hard and uncomfortable against the martial.
“His game was good, he um, interrupted my class with his messages,” your voice was weak but unnoticed by Kai.
“oh good,” and you rush to your room to pull off your clothes. first the jeans digging into you then your sweatshirt. but as you lay down in your empty bed you can’t find anything to calm your racing mind. you grab your phone from the nightstand trying to scroll aimlessly but you keep thinking about the photo.
tossing and turning you end up on your stomach too hot to be under the covers even in only your panties and tank top. you open the text chain with Yeonjun and it’s the first thing you see. the sly little “thinking of you” message eating you alive. it was so unfair that he was so easily satisfied when away from you but you couldn’t get off by yourself and not that you hadn’t tried many times before. your hands weren’t the right feel, too short fingers, too soft, too much to think about. but you needed to get off now, looking at him with the veins in his hands showing off. you were uncomfortably wet and aching. you hadn’t even noticed the small whines you were letting out as you rolled over to your back pulling your knees up to rub your thighs together.
you wanted to call Yeonjun and beg him to walk you through an orgasm, wanted to beg Kai to take over with his mouth even if he was exhausted. but you dug your grave earlier and wouldn’t hear the end of it from Yeonjun if you fessed up to being so turned on by the photo.
This conundrum leads you to the file you had saved with all the previous photos Yeonjun had sent for this very purpose. there was no forgetting him now and not ever when he made you feel this way hundreds of miles away.
you hadn’t even noticed how late it was getting, how the room was dark and you were still stuck lying in bed looking for a release you couldn’t give yourself. and not for the lack of trying you just couldn’t make it to the end. Every missed orgasm made you tear up your soft whines suddenly pulling Kai’s attention from the other room.
The office has an adjoining wall and he was too focused on his paper to see what time it was or to see that the only light now was from his screen. He hit submit flicking off the monitor to hear your soft whimper.
he remembered you saying you would be taking a nap and then ordering food. but now seeing the time you had slept for way longer than you usually napped for after class and he would know because it was one of his favorite after-class activities to nap right along with you.
he picked himself up from his desk making his way into the dark hallway following your desperate whines. When he made it to the dark bedroom the three of you shared he flipped the switch that only lit the far corners lamp. and There you were with your hand in your pale pink panties eyes screwed shut, skin hot and flushed. you gave a weak sob before tugging your hand back still unaware of Kai in the doorway.
Kai was frozen, face turning all different shades of pink. He was tired before but now he was awake, the swell of his cock clearly seen through his gray sweatpants. He has always reacted easily to the sight of you and he was fast to try and push those feelings away. He was needy and always believed himself to be too needy and he wanted to keep you from that. Let Yeonjun take over sexually and let Kai take over emotionally.
but now here you are teary and writhing in the bed. your phone is next to your head and without warning it rings startling both you and Kai, who you finally notice.
both of you are still as the ringtone sings alone in the silence. “answer it,” Kai’s voice is thick in his throat and you lean up on your elbows to grab the phone, shutting your knees to try and hide the wet spot on your panties as if he hadn't already seen it.
“I almost didn't think you would pick up,” is the first thing Yeonjun says, the sound of his crinkling sheets on the other line telling you he was tucking in for the night.
“I was…” another tear sliding down your cheek, eyes locked on huening who gives nothing away. “busy,” the phone pressed to your ear.
“busy? working out the problem I gave you?” he says it as a joke but you’re already too needy to take it well. your voice shakes ready to burst into tears, “You’re the worst you already know I can’t do it myself,” you blink up to the ceiling trying to hold back any more tears from slipping and to avoid Kai’s gaze.
“Where is kai? I left you in perfectly capable hands,”
“he was busy and I didn’t want to bother him,”
“But where is he now, you said was, so he must be done. His deadline was a few minutes ago,” you peek over to huening, his arms crossed still standing in the door watching you, eyes trying to see right through your legs. “He's here,” you whisper shyly.
“put me on speaker,”
“junnie,”
“put me on speaker,” no room for argument. you follow instructions balancing the phone on your knees so you can rest your elbow back down on the mattress. “I leave for three days and you guys can’t live without me?”
“Hyung-“
“huening we’ve been over this before if she needs to be taken care of she gets taken care of,”
“I’m not a house plant,” you quip, “ and I don’t need to be forced onto any-“
“you’re never forcing me,” Kai cuts in, “if you had asked I could have…” but he shakes his head not knowing how to continue.
“use your words,” Yeonjun pushed after Kai trails off, “You both get nowhere without asking, again we've been over this. kai you know what you're doing and she likes it, loves it, hell we both know she likes your fingers over mine,”
“junnie,” your blush is all down your chest now made to look worse by your white tank, your nipples are straining against the fabric. you don’t know why you always felt so shy around Kai, maybe it was because he was so much bigger than you even if you were a little older. he stood over you, took up space in the doorframe, and completely wrapped himself around you when you hugged, that added with the fact he too was shy only worsened the effect you had on each other. even after knowing each other for most of your lives.
Kai had already made it to the bed sitting right on the edge close enough to hear the phone better. “Pick yourself up, use your words, and ask for what you want. if I can’t even see you and I know exactly what it is you want then it should be easy for the two of you to grasp,”
“But what if…” Kai starts and you know he wants to bring up the one time he didn’t make you finish. It was years ago in high school when the three of us were still new to sex. Yeonjun was there to make you cum but it made Kai scared ever since and it only worsened his fear of repeating that night when Yeonjun wasn’t here to make up for him.
“huening that was like six years ago and I’ve seen you make her cum so hard she couldn’t form words before. Do you need me to walk you through it?”
Kai placed a hand around your ankle at the question sending a bolt to your core. your knee jerking in response sending the phone flying from your knee and onto your stomach still face up. “could you?”
“What's she wearing?”
Kai drags his hand up your calf and you clamp your knees together. “hardly anything,” his voice is throaty, his pupils blown. “the blush pink panties and a spaghetti strap tank,”
Yeonjun hums over the phone approvingly. “Summer always makes her dress so slutty,” he groans, “not fair I don’t get to see,”
“facetime?” Kai asks leaning over to place a feather-light kiss on your knee.
“you guys won’t be able to hold the phone the way I want to see,” he shuffles again in bed. “is she wet?”
you whimper at the question keeping your knees pinned together but Kai already knows the answer, “soaked even though she’s trying to hide it,”
“am not,” and Kai raises his brows but doesn’t push it, only lays another stomach-fluttering kiss on your knee.
“always wants to deny deny deny,” and Kai chuckles,” Pull her legs open I’m sure you will have to hold her thighs down,”
Kai follows his instructions, butterflying your legs to either side, hands eating up your thighs. Kai pulls himself onto the bed fully laying down to be level with your clothes core. you can feel his breath through the wet fabric and you try to wiggle away.
Kai squeezes the meat of your thigh again in warning. “take your time before taking her panties off,”
kai blows cool air onto your clothed wet center making you buck your hips so sensitive from the strain of the day. Kai keeps you pinned before leaning in to rub his nose over the sodden fabric, the tip brushing your clit sending a chill up your spine. He gives a little smile at your reaction, your teeth digging into your lip.
“I want to hear you baby,” Yeonjun took the words right from his mouth. Kai needs to hear your moans now with your tears drying on your cheeks, your desperate whines turning into desperate pleas.
Kai gives the smallest kiss to your clit and you try to chase the sensation. “Kai,” your pout is unheard as he lifts a finger to pull back your panties to reveal you to him.
and no matter how many times he’s faced your pussy it will forever be his favorite sight. your puffy lips begging to be sucked, clit swollen, and you never fail to be drenched and glistening. He licks his lips, you had mentioned him needing to eat and now he’s faced with his favorite meal.
“slow huening you always give her what she wants so fast let her wait,”
“junnie please, I’ve been waiting all day,” you try to roll your hips to meet Kai’s face but he pulls away keeping his finger hooked in your panties. it’s hard to completely move with his chest on your feet but it doesn’t stop you from trying when he latches onto your thigh leaving a trail of kisses and bites.
“Please,” you breathe and the chorus of both of them moaning makes your stomach flutter, they always make the prettiest noises.
Kai quits his teasing and gives you one last clit kiss before suddenly licking a path from your entrance to your clit where he latches on and gives a harsh suck. the sensation makes your knees jerk up and you reach a hand out to tangle in his hair, tugging hard. “oh fuck,” are the only coherent words Yeonjun can make out over the phone.
in Chicago, he’s spread out on his bed phone in one hand and his cock in the other. gripping the base to relieve some pressure but not jerking off just yet.
kai works your clit just the way you like and you can feel your impending orgasm building with how close you’ve been all night. kai let’s go of your thigh with one hand before gathering up your slick and prodding your entrance. your back arches giving him better access and you moan as he slips a finger in and then another.
“She's close,” Yeonjun breathes. He and Kai both know the change in your whimpering.
kai nips at your clit and you cry out as he presses the sweet gummy spot inside you that makes you see stars. you cum hard enough to have tears leaking again, your hand pulling Kai down harder on your clit before it’s too much and you have to let him go.
kai pulls away but not before licking you clean leaving you twitching. your pussy was swollen and he couldn’t wait to feel you strangling his cock the second he got it in you.
“See I told you that you didn’t have to worry,” Yeonjuns light laugh from the phone is followed by a weak moan. “legs up, fold her in half,”
Kai doesn't follow his orders first, picking up the phone and placing it on your chest. you were already spilling out of your tank so he took the opportunity to tug the straps down and reveal your tits to him. Kai bites his lip before leaning down to give you soft pecks all along your chest. “I didn’t even kiss you first I'm so sorry baby,” he mutters into your neck kissing up your jaw and to your mouth.
before you can say anything in return his mouth is in yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue. Now with him hovering over you your legs are free to wrap around him. tugging his sweatpants-covered cock closer to your entrance. He moans into your mouth before his large hand takes hold of your breast tweaking your nipple. “huening,” you moan, throwing your head back when he ruts into you. He leans down to latch his lips around your untouched breast, nipping you as he rolls his hips forward again.
the phone is close to Kai’s mouth and Yeonjuns breathing is labored on the other end. “I can’t wait any longer,” Yeonjun spits into his palm giving himself one loose tug, “I want to hear her cum again,”
Kai nods even if he can’t be seen over the phone and he pulls away from you tugging off his shirt by the back collar and throwing it behind him. he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats, a wet spot where he has been rubbing against you, tugging them down to let his cock slap his stomach. The release makes him moan, knowing just like Yeonjun he couldn’t wait and he needed to hear you moaning again. he wastes no time in tugging your ruined panties down your legs before placing his hands in the pit of your knees and bending you in half like Yeonjun suggested. your ankles are on Kai’s shoulders and he has the perfect view.
your hair all over the pillows, eyes half-lidded, you had taken over with tugging on your nipples, your tank top now a makeshift belt around your center, phone stuck to your chest from the sheen of sweat you now had.
you watched Kai drag a hand over his cock, hard and red waiting for you. He almost buckled at the feeling, his free hand wrapping around your thigh to pull you open. “Look at you,” he whispers, taking the tip and dragging it through your wet folds. the sound is loud and Yeonjun chuckles “She sounds ready,”
but Kai’s not moving to slide into you he’s now back to teasing, running the head of his cock back and forth from your entrance to your clit without enough pressure. you roll your hips whining, “Hyuka please,” he shudders at the nickname before notching the mushroom tip of his cock inside you. it always amazed you how he could fit all of himself in you when before you had always believed you would never be able to take all of him. but he proves you wrong again as he pushes in inch by inch both of you moaning loud enough for Yeonjun to buckle all the way in Chicago. “fuck fuck fuck you sound so good,” he’s trying to go slow with the rhythm he tugs but he can’t keep himself in check the way you do for him.
kai bottoms out leaning forward and bending you properly in half before burying his nose into your neck to try and catch his breath.
you can feel him so deep you can’t think straight. his arms hugging your legs to him as he places an open palm over your ribs, the heat of his skin on yours letting you sink into the mattress. kai kisses the swell of your collarbone before pulling out an inch and pushing back in. You whimper at the sensation, weaving your fingers in his dark hair and pulling the strands. both of your boys loved their hair to be played with during sex or just resting next to each other.
kai pushes himself up placing his free hand next to your head for leverage, holding you still by your side with the other. he pulls out almost all the way and you try to chase him making him giggle, “Patience love I’ll give you more,” he slowly inches in and you hum arching into him. “look at you, how did I get so lucky? hum?” the praise makes you preen and Yeonjun approves, “so willing for us,” he grunts the soft sound of his hand slapping heard.
kai picks up the pace to match the sound, he's knocking the cradle of your legs, heavy balls matching the beat on your skin. ”deeper,” it’s a throaty ask from your lips but Kai hears you and sinks his hips, elbow bending slightly as his other hand tugs on your tank top using it like a handle. and he goes deeper and you swear you can feel him in your throat, your moan not even sounding like you anymore. kai is now pounding into you finding the heady rhythm Yeonjun set with ease, fucking into you so well that the phone slips from your chest into the crook of your neck pressing the speaker into your ear. Yeonjuns moans are louder making your toes curl your second orgasm building heavy in your stomach. “I want it hyuka please cum in me,”
Kai’s movements falter at your plea, his arm holding him up buckling from his stutter. “Beg,” Yeonjun mutters knowing exactly what Kai needs, if anything Yeonjun thinks huening has a thing for hearing you beg and whimper and that’s why he holds out so long when it comes to you after you both have overcome your shyness. but jun knows that when you both get to this point in the night Kai needs you to beg for him.
“Please I can take it,” Kai’s head falls to your ear, his moans in one and Yeonjuns in the other, “please I’ve been good,”
“no she hasn’t,” Yeonjun groans, “she was looking at dirty pictures in class,”
Kai almost can’t take the accusation, the trembling in his arm traveling down his spine, he wants to cum, knows it’s going to happen at any moment but he wants you there with him. “p-pictures?” He can hardly get any words out.
“I wasn’t,” you shake your head before crying out as Kai delivers a powerful thrust.
“she was and I don’t think she should cum now since she’s denying it,”
“Yeonjun please,” you have tears threatening to spill. your hand in Kai’s hair pushing him closer to your throat your other one scratching at the back of his neck, “please hyuka I wasn’t, please I want to cum please please pl-“Kai takes his thumb and shoves it into your mouth to quiet you, your tank top now forgotten as you suck his finger. “promise to take it all,” he’s breathless hot air fanning over your skin.
“I want it please hyuka,” you whine when he takes his thumb back to wedge between the two of you to press on your clit. you jolt at the contact and somehow he sinks deeper between your legs, both of you trying to chase the feeling again.
you can feel him twitch inside you, the sign he’s about to cum. “junnie?”
“I’m right there baby,” his breathy moans growing louder by the second.
Kai presses down on your clit stilling inside you as he cums. his moans pressed into your ear. The heat of him as he gives weak strokes to ride out his high triggers your orgasm right after your head falls back into the pillows, legs shaking as your pussy flutters around Kai. Yeonjun follows right after, his curses stained.
the room is silent as Kai finally lets his arm go, letting his full weight lay on you. your legs are numb as you feel Kai's light kisses behind your ear. “you did so well,” your happy sigh is enough to make Kai grin against your skin.
“I made a mess,” Yeonjun mutters, “I wish I had my girl to come lick me clean,”
“junnie,” the image making you pulse around Kai’s softening cock, it wouldn't be the first time Yeonjun had made you follow the trail he left up his stomach.
kai finally rises back up letting your legs fall as he pulls out. the steady leak of your combined cum warm and staining the sheets.
you’re completely limp in the bed as huening moves to grab a wet rag to wipe you up. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow night,” Yeonjuns smile heard over the line.
“I can’t believe you told Kai I was looking at dirty pictures,” your hand falls over your eyes as you feel huening spread your legs, the warm rag soothing to your heated flesh.
“you did look at my dirty photo”,
“It was like a flash bang i wasn’t expecting it while in class,”
“So you were looking at dirty pictures in class,” Kai laughs, kissing your inner thigh before guiding your legs into a new pair of clean panties. He had already put on new briefs himself before tugging off the soiled comforter to toss in the wash later. He was always so meticulous in picking up after sex where Yeonjun could easily have snuggled in dirty sheets and all.
“not really,” you sit up to tug your tank top back into place pulling your phone along with you. “just hurry back already, and let’s not bring it up again,”
Kai pulls the spare blanket from the closet before pulling himself under with you. “yeah hyung hurry back the bed feels empty with only the two of us in it,”
#smut#txt#txt smut#txtsmut#yeonjun#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun smut#txt yeonjun#txt yeonjun smut#choi yeonjun#tomorrow x together#huening kai#beomgyu#taehyun#soobin#huening kai x reader#huening kai smut#txt huening kai#txt huening kai smut#Kpop smut#kpop fic#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#yeonjun hard thoughts#yeonjun hard hours#huening kai hard hours#huening kai hard thoughts#hueningkai#hueningkai x reader#hueningkai smut
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Make me lose my breath, Make me water…
Jjk characters reacting to you squirt for the first time
Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, and Sukuna
Tags: squirting, mating press, missionary, fingering, cowgirl, nipple play, choking, oral f!receiving
Gojo:
His long fingers pumped in and out of you at a steady pace while he used his thumb to play with your clit. You lay there on your back sucking air in and out of your lungs fast enough to make you lightheaded. Eyes rolling back as you mewled Satoru’s name as if it was the only word you knew.
“You take my fingers so well baby, I love watching you squirm for me.” He purred in your ear. He kissed down your ear and made his way to your nipples, biting and licking them. “Fuck..‘Toru,”
“Pretty girl taking my fingers so good, almost ready for my cock baby.” He curled his fingers up to hit that spongy spot. Your eyes shoot open as you look down towards his hand. The feeling you felt was something different. There was an intense burning sensation in your lower abdomen. As if you were to add lighter fluid to an already well lit fire. It was too much for your cunt to handle. “S-Shit! ‘Toru! Baby, wait..it feels..” You grab his wrist to try and pull him away but it only makes him go faster.
“It’s ok baby, you’re ok. I got you, just let it out. I feel you getting wetter, come around my fingers princess.”
With a silent cry, your eyes are squeezed shut as you gush all over Satoru’s hand. You can’t stop your legs from shaking and you claw your nails up and down his forearm. He hisses at the feeling but lets out a sexually frustrated groan. “Holy shit,” he looks at your trembling body and the small whimpers you let out. “Oh fuck, there you go baby, keep going.” He talks to you throughout the whole orgasm.
His fingers slow down which gives you a chance to regulate your breathing. “Shit baby,” he breaths out. “I wanna see you do that again.”
Geto:
Suguru has you on top of him, bouncing on his cock as he uses his hips to aggressively thrust up into you. You have both hands placed on his chest, digging into the skin out of sheer pleasure. His hands tuning up and down your sides, stopping at your nipples to tug and pinch them. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your wet cunt was sinful. You couldn’t contain your moans and could care less about who heard you. You knew your boyfriend had non-sorcerers to see, they were probably lining up at the door. But you needed him. And to him, your needs always come first.
“Sugu! Oh my god- fuck! It’s so…much..” you moan out as his thick veiny cock swiftly moves in and out of you. “Such a needy fuckin’ slut princess,” he spat, slapping your ass then gripping it in his hand. “You needed me that badly huh? You couldn’t be a good girl and wait for me to be finished could you? Yeah, you wanted me to fuck you first huh?” His dirty talk was so filthy it made you tighten up. “Y-yes..n-needed you so bad,” to Suguru, you looked so incredibly beautiful when you’re fucked out like this.
Suguru placed his hand on your lower abdomen and pushed down on it a bit. “Sweetheart, do you think you can handle squirting for me?” You had no response beside your jaw dropping and eyes tightly shut. “Think you can make a mess all over my cock? Let my assistant know who I belong to?” That sent you over the edge. Anything to let her know that Suguru was taken and is going to be for a while. No matter how many times she tries to flirt with him.
“Oh fuck! Suguru!” You moaned loudly and let your orgasm take over. You gush all over his cock and lower abdomen. The thrusts sounding sloppier due to your juices. Your moans getting louder with each hard thrust he delivered to you. “Shiiiit, that’s it baby. Let everybody know. Oh fuck that’s so sexy,” His pace not slowing as he chased his own release.
Choso:
He was feeling hungry, so what better way to quench his hunger by eating you out? “Oh shit Cho,” you moan out, running your fingers through his hair. “Does it feel good? P-please tell me it feels good.” He asks you, slowly circling a finger over your tight cunt. “F-feels so good..Choso,” your words are slurred as you grip his hair and the sheets.
He inserts that finger into you and watches intensely as your reaction changes. “Your- mmm..yes..please…” your sentences don’t even make sense, but the ecstasy you’re feeling of Choso’s tongue swirling around your clit drives you insane. Your legs start twitching on either side of him. “Mm I l-love making you feel good baby. This pussy tastes is so good.” He moans into your cunt sending vibrations through out your limbs, only igniting the fire a bit more.
“You’re so wet, you’re gonna come aren’t you?” He replaces his mouth with his fingers and sends light kisses on the insides of each thigh. “Y-yes..I’m- I’m gonna come so hard Cho. Make me come please!” Both of you at this point are a whiny whimpering mess for each other. “Come for me please baby, please come, I wanna feel you squeeze around my fingers.” He pleads as he curls his fingers inside you. What pushes you over the edge is him begging for you to come. There’s something so primal about it. “Ch-Choso! I f-feel like I’m gonna-“ your sentence was interrupted by the intense orgasm you felt. It was different than the others, the noises your cunt was making sounded sloppier.
“Come for me, please come for me baby. I wanna feel you-“ he was interrupted by you pretty cunt gushing on his fingers, inner thighs and his chin. Seeing you like this causes him to burst in his pants. “Fuuuck baby,” his mother attaches itself to your dripping cunt. “You taste amazing. This might be my new favorite thing.”
Toji:
Toji’s left hand was cradling the back of your neck and the right hand was lightly wrapped around your throat. He had you in a mating press, legs sitting cutely on top of his shoulders as he thrusts into you harshly. Each moan broken up and forced out of you by you body jerking aggressively up and down on the bed. The sounds of slapping skin ricocheting through the room and he quickly brings you to an orgasm you’ve never felt before.
And you know this one was going to be different. The burning in your lower abdomen only started getting stronger and stronger. That feeling of suddenly needing to pee was more intense than usual. Toji had you so worked up and he was so close you making you come undone. “T-Toji..” you panted making direct eye contact with him. “Yeah baby?” His voice deep and raspy from the foreplay. “I’m- I’m gonna..I’m coming,” you said and clawed at his forearm that was gripping your throat.
“It’s okay babygirl, let go for me.” He encouraged while kissing your jaw line. You whimpered in response since you thought he didn’t know what you were referring to. “N-No..it’s gonna be messy..I can’t- ahh-“ you were interrupted by a particular deep thrust he administered in order to shut you up. “I’ll clean it up baby it’s ok. Right now I just need to feel you coming on my dick.” His thrusts started moving faster this time, pushing you farther into the bed.
For those few seconds, it was mainly you moaning and whimpering his name repeating how messy you were gonna come for him until you actually did it. The slapping of skin sounding sloppier and his thrusts losing rhythm just feeling you gush all over his lower abdomen and cock. “Mhm Thaat’s it pretty girl, lemme see how messy you can get for me.” He pulls out his now wet cock to quickly rub it against your clit side to side and watch all of your juices spray out.
Sukuna:
“Stop squirming little girl,” he commanded as he used two pairs of hands to grip your waist and the other two to tug in your nipple and rub your puffy little clit. “I can’t- ‘Kuna..it’s too much,” your cries were like music to his ears. He had such a soft spot for you. He watches your face contort in various ways as he uses both pairs of limbs to his advantage. He wanted- no, needed to make sure his girl feels the best. Hence why you're on your third orgasm.
"You can handle it." He dryly reassures and pounds into you deeper. you were so overstimulated from the previous orgasms and his thrusts weren’t letting up. He would keep going, and going, and going at the same aggressive pace that would make you some every time. “You’re gonna come all over my fuckin’ cock like a good girl, yeah?” His words were so filthy it left you mouth opened with no response.
“I-I don’t think I- hah~ I came three times alreadyy,” you protested, legs started to tremble. “You can come a fourth time my angel,” his thrusts somehow picking up more speed than before. The lower half of your body felt numb. You breathing became more shallow and it was making you feel light headed. “You’re so close I know it, c’mon and come for me.”
Your body obeyed him and gushed around him. Your body jerking around, legs squirming uncontrollably as you sobbed through your orgasm. “Fuuck! ‘Kuna~” his groans more frequent now as he continues to fuck into your sopping wet cunt. “That’s it baby, come all over my cock.” His hand squeezing your clit while he plays with you nipples. “Fuckin’ love this pussy. ‘Ts all mine.” He rambles. It’s a clear giveaway to let you know he’s close. “Gonna come deep in this pussy. Take it more me, take my fuckin’ come.”
#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk smut#jjk toji#jjk gojo#jjk anime#jjk geto#jjk choso#jjk sukuna#jjk suguru geto#jjk satoru#dilf toji#choso kamo#choso x reader#smut#snoopyearss
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https://www.tiktok.com/@kickupsomedust/video/7374145884403223854?_t=8n2jGA6urd5&_r=1
goose? but i feel like it could fit someone else too just can’t put my finger on it
No that's absolutely Goose coded. I have in fact written fic just for you because of it, so here's Goose being possessive and mildly insane.
You open the trailer door in nothing but a tank top and a pair of panties, still brushing your teeth. You raise a brow looking at the woman with her hand still raised to knock on the door. She smiles sweetly. Phoney fucking bologna. You lean to the side and spit your toothpaste onto the grass, ignoring the face she makes. You get a good view of her nice white boots before you straighten up.
"Can I help you?" You ask because she doesn't seem intent on talking.
"I'm lookin' for Simon Riley?" She coos in a voice that says she's trying to be polite but really sees you as an obstacle more than a person.
"Ain't he comin' off a roping round?" You give your teeth another quick brush just because you don't wanna stand around holding something and because you figure it'll make her realize you're not interested in helping whatever little scheme she's cooked up.
"He offered to help me with my tack," Sounds innocent enough, not exactly your husband's MO though, "he said I could meet him at his camper." Ah. "Didn't mention you." Uh huh. You nod. This is sounding more like him, send the pushy problem to you to deal with.
You tug your toothbrush from your mouth and spit again before smiling at the girl. "Well ain't that sweet of him, bless his heart I'm always tellin' that man he's gotta start being nicer to people." You gesture with your toothbrush, flipping off the men that wander by a little too slowly. It's not your fault this bitch wouldn't stop hammering on your door long enough to let you pull a pair of jeans on.
"Right," the girl pulls the word suspiciously through her lips.
"My brother sure can pick 'em," you see the tension in her shoulders loosen a little, "wait here baby, I'll put some pants on and we can go lookin' for 'im."
You think you know why Simon sent this chick your way. She won't shut the fuck up. You're doing fine keeping up, but you're sure his head was spinning. As it is you're fielding questions about your husband and attempting to give awful but honest answers. When she asks if he's got any neurosis you almost lose it. You cover by telling her he's a veteran and that seems to handle most of her questions from there. It's too bad the woman went after your husband, you might have liked her if she wasn't an attempted homewrecker.
Though that thought is quickly dashed against the rocks when you spot Simon and she goes running over to him. It's then that you get a good look at the rhinestones covering her back pockets. Fucking saddle scratchers, of course she needs help with her tack it's probably torn to shreds. Simon looks straight past her to you, his face going white --well, whiter-- when he sees you smile. He's quick to side step the woman and stalk over to you.
"What're you smiling about?" He asks, his voice rough, you wonder if he had a rough ride for his practice round. You desperately want to ask if he knows the dummies they bring out don't move, that he doesn't have to work so hard roping the suckers. Instead and tip your head to make sure he knows you're looking at him and grin.
"Thinkin' about how sad and sorry you'd be without me."
Simon hums, leaning down to kiss you. The soft press of his lips is made all the sweeter for the gasp that escapes your unwelcome guest. You keep your hands at your side, really drive home that your man wants to kiss you the way his big hands cup your face to keep you in place as his tongue swipes against the seam of your lips. It's really too bad Simon likes putting on a show. You'd stand here and kiss him all day if you could, but you have a fan to deal with. You turn your head on the next kiss so Simon's lips land on your cheek, it doesn't stop him. His lips trail over your cheek, against your jaw, you have to push at him when his stubble scratches at your neck. Too ticklish early in the morning for his nonsense.
His wannabe bunny is paler than a ghost watching you press your hands against Simon's broad chest. She scowls at you, and you stick your tongue out in response.
"You could've told me he was taken," She spits at you, "you're not funny." So weird, you think you're hilarious. Simon let you go to give the girl a confused look. She glares at him as well before turning to leave.
"Oh wait, you got somethin' on your jeans," You tell her, she twists and you step closer, "looks like you sat in something."
You grab the top of one of her pockets and jerk hard, ripping the damn thing from the seat of her pants. She shrieks and Simon's quick enough to make sure she doesn't catch you with that weak ass swing.
"You bitch!" She yells at you. You blow her a little kiss with her stupid bedazzled pocket.
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley#x oc#cod x oc#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#mw2 ghost#ghost cod#oc: goose#cowboy au#cowboy!ghost
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A mis-text-derstanding
After a long night of patrolling around Amity, Danny damn near collapsed onto his bed. His back ached from a stray ectoblast and his eyes felt heavier than a mountain. Technus had done something to the technology around the town. At random a piece of technology would suddenly go rogue with a virus the ghost implemented. The virus would make the item try to capture anyone in the vicinity using any means necessary. So Danny had been doing regular patrols around town to catch anyone who needed help.
That also means that his sleeping time had been radically reduced. Without even the energy to lift his head, Danny patted around for his phone. Once he finally found the device he hefted himself on his side with a groan. It was a new phone since he was the first casualty in Technus’ plan. Thankfully, Sam had given him another so his parents wouldn’t try to make him one. (Who knows what kind of ‘anti-ghost’ protection they would’ve put on it.)
Tucker had promised that he was working on fixing the virus going around. Hopefully, he had some kind of good news to share. As soon as Danny went to message him he realized he hadn’t downloaded their chat app to the new phone. With a sigh he knew that he would just have to use normal texting but with careful codewords.
Putting in Tucker's number with a yawn, Danny sent the first message.
‘It’s your undead bro. The night out tonight was killer. Any news on the techie progress?’
Danny smashed his face into his bed with a sigh after hitting send. Knowing Tucker he was probably face first in his laptop and won’t notice the message for a bit. He could probably just close his eyes and…
Before he could even consider taking a nap there was a generic jingle from the phone. He should really get to fixing that. Tuck deserves a much better ringtone than some bells.
‘Nothing noteworthy yet. It's harder to crack than normal but nothing I can't handle. Do you need me to take over for tomorrow?’
‘Also why aren't you using our chat?’
Danny squinted at the screen with a slight frown. It had been a while since Sam or Tucker tried to go out in his place. They learned pretty quickly that it made Danny way too anxious to have them out there without him. Something about not being there to protect them if they got over their heads made Danny’s chest ache.
And of course, Tucker noticed that he wasn’t using the app he made. It was a bit glitchy at times, but what tech wasn’t when it came to Danny? Not only was it secure, but it became an easier way for them to establish a timeline for filing. Jazz had been the one who realized that they didn’t have steady information on not just the rouges but the events of the fights. It became a staple to write out what happened and what went wrong after hearing her lecture about it.
‘Don’t have it on this phone yet. And you know how I feel about you being out there.’
Danny watched the screen for a bit, waiting to see if Tucker would reply immediately again. His mom probably caught him on his computer all day and was forcing him to separate himself from it for a while. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for Ms. Foley to do.
‘Yeah yeah, Mr. Possessive. Do you need me to walk you through how to get it again?’
Snorting at the pun, Danny easily replied. If Tucker was feeling sassy enough to joke about that, then he would push some buttons back. It was a simple banter that they sometimes fell into.
‘You know how I get with technology. I’m more likely to break something. Especially since this phone is so new. Whatever happened to flip phones?’
Danny snickered to himself at the message. Tucker had an ongoing war between new and old technology. While he loved his PDA he also admired some of the top-of-the-line devices. It was like the past and the future mixed in his friend's room. He would gush about the new devices but also gush about the older ones that still had functions that the newer ones lost. But flip phones? That was the only technology he knew that Tucker hated. It was the worst of both worlds for him. He’d been so excited when Danny’s flip phone was bricked by Technus’ virus.
‘I’m going to ignore that you said that.’
‘Also there’s going to be trouble in the park near you tomorrow. I’m already planning on going. Do you want in?’
Scooting up from his lounged position, Danny started to write back his reply.
‘Of course, I’ll be there. Don’t need you to go in alone and join the dead. Unusual for him to leave his plans there though. That’ll be fun to write in the report.’
The image of Jazz reading about that brought a smile to Danny’s face. She always found it interesting when one of the ghosts would change a long-time behavior. The fact that Technus was able to keep this rather on the down low would guarantee her interest. He was always one to blatantly announce his plans to the world to hear. Even though it’s a bit of a pain that he’s learning to keep things to himself it would peak Jazz’s curiosity, which made it bearable.
‘It is weird. And don’t remind me about the report. I still have the one from last week to write and I don’t want to do it.’
That made Danny laugh to himself a little. Last week the lunch lady tried to embrace the Ultra-Recyclo Vegetarian life. In the overflow of food, Tucker had gotten trapped in veggies. He was visibly green from having to eat some to escape. Sam had been excited about it at first before she saw how much food was being wasted. She ended up getting attacked for trying to explain the damage overconsumption and food waste could bring.
‘You looked like you wanted to vomit afterward. Well, at least we are prepared this time. We don’t always get that chance.’
Danny stretched out his stubborn limbs, feeling himself try to sink into the darkness. He’d have to end the conversation sooner rather than later. At this rate, he wouldn’t have a choice on whether he was taking a nap or not. At the familiar sound of bells, he looked back down at the conversation.
‘Unfortunately. Well, I’ll be finished by the time we meet at the park. I know you usually like to sleep after a long night.’
The reply made Danny’s core feel fuzzy with happiness. Tucker always knows him so well. He doesn’t know what he did to get such a fantastic best friend. It was at times like these that Danny knew he was so glad that they were in this together. With two of his best friends at his side, it made being a vigilante so much easier to bear.
‘Thanks. Remember that not just the dead get to sleep. Don’t push yourself. Goodnight.’
With that, Danny felt comfortable with setting his phone down to get changed into pajamas. It ached on his back to take off his shirt, but Jazz would be disappointed in the morning if he didn’t. She always got that pinched look on her face when he didn’t take care of himself to her standards. Her standards weren’t exactly high up either so it made him feel extra upset when he missed the mark.
Being careful to not lie on his back, Danny got back into his bed. He curled himself into the blankets with a small smile. One last chime of bells rang out in the room, probably from Tucker saying goodnight back. Picking up his phone, he opened up the lock screen and looked at his messages.
Instead of a goodnight, his stomach dropped as he realized a different number messaged him. A very familiar number.
‘Hey dude! I know you had to get a new phone so this is me. Not only did I figure out how it’s spreading, I think I finally found a way to get rid of the virus.’
Practically throwing himself off the bed, Danny got to his feet. Both his back and his mind screamed at him as he looked over the message. He tapped back to the one he’d just been replying to, finding his heart stopping at the string of numbers. One of the area code numbers was a six instead of a nine. He’d been messaging a stranger this entire time.
Looking back at the messages he convinced himself that it was fine. He was vague enough to not be recognized. It wasn’t like this person was from Amity. They won’t recognize the correlation between him and Phantom. Surely the other person wouldn’t take his words at face value.
Worst comes to worst he can have Tucker take over his phone for a bit and make sure the other person can’t find out who he is. He hadn’t bought the phone or had it under his name in any way, so they could only find out from the conversation alone.
Breathing out a breath of air he kissed his night of sleep goodbye.
‘I’ll be over in a sec Tuck. I think I just made a mistake.’
#dc x dp#dp x dc#part one of two#Next part is Tim's side of things#I just love the idea of the chaos this would bring#Danny messages Tim thinking he's Tucker#And Tim messaging Danny thinking he's Jason#The idea was just too funny to me#I'll reblog with part two once I'm happy with it :)#ficlet
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Bea
In a moment of despair, Bea finds herself.
[Pet Safety Masterlist]
Content: BBU, BBU recovery, recapture(-ish) - but really, mostly recovery.
Bea. Bea.
She'd said the new name to herself in the mirror, every time she looked at one; sometimes out loud when she was home alone; just a soft mumble at other times. "Good morning, Bea", she would say, or "Good evening, Bea", and the one-eyed woman in the mirror would smile a beautiful smile, and the pet who wasn't really a pet any longer would smile back.
She held on to her old name, too, deep inside, the old name and its old life, its flickers of memory, vague faces, echoes of touches.
Bea, however, was now. A new life, a new name, even a new face. Maybe less regular than the old one, less perfect. But beautiful. Happy.
And she owed it all to Adrian Delgado, the man who was cowering next to her on the street right now, his hands on the shoulders of a skinny, shaking runaway pet.
"We'll get you out of here," Adrian mumbled into the runaway's hair.
They'd found him huddled up in a narrow alleyway on their walk home from dinner, feverish and injured. Adrian hadn't hesitated. With practised routine, one hand had dialed Marta's number, the other wrapped a scarf around his face, before he'd sank to his knees to check the pet's health. He wasn't good. Bea knew. She'd seen similar injuries. She'd suffered them, too. And she'd barely survived.
"Please," the pet whimpered now. "Please don't make me go back, please."
"You won't. My friend will be here soon," Adrian said, holding his hand. "She'll help you."
"Negative." Marta's voice through the phone was pressed, sharp. "A, B, you need to bail, right now, we have a WRU re-ac team coming in."
"Please," the pet whispered again and grabbed Adrian's other hand, too. "Please. Not back to my owner."
The phone cracked. "Are you leaving? Fuck. You're not leaving, A, I'd hear that. Fucking run, or you bring him in to WRU yourself, you hear me? Don't blow your cover."
The pet sobbed.
Bea reached for the phone and got to her feet. There wasn't a mirror here, only Bea's dull reflection in a dirty storefront window, her face half shadowed in the streetlight. Hi Bea, she thought. Hi, girl. You're good. You've got this.
"Bea," Adrian called. "What are you doing?" He shook off the pet's hand.
Bea held his gaze. "Get A and the pet," Bea said into the phone, carefully avoiding their names just as Marta did. "I'll handle the team."
"What?"
She shoved up her sleeves, turned her wrist in the streetlight, so the black lines of her bar code shone. "They return runaways to their owners," she said. "Let them return me, not him."
"No," Adrian rose as well, the pet mindlessly sobbing at his feet. "You can't go back to Ja-"
"Jack's not my owner," she reminded him softly. "You are." She smiled. "Tell them I ran, after dinner. I am a good liar, Sir. So are you."
"Do it, B," Marta called via phone. "Now!"
Bea tossed the phone back to Adrian and pointed to her feet. "You told me to run. I have good shoes."
From the main street, the brakes of a heavy car echoed into the alley. Adrian deftly grabbed the pet, pressed a hand on his mouth. Already running towards the corner, Bea knew they were getting cover.
Just in time.
A man and a woman in WRU black stepped out of a van, just as Bea cut around the corner. "Hey," the woman called, hand on her shock baton. "You! Stop!"
Bea stopped, slowly lifted her hands, making sure they could see the bar code.
It was some meters. It was fine. She just needed to get them away from Adrian Delgado and the injured pet. She took some measured steps backwards, keeping her distance. "Please," she cried, just as the runaway had. "Please. I can't go back!"
"Respect," the man boomed, his own baton already in hand.
Bea's knees trembled, but didn't waver. Broken, they'd called her in WRU refurb. Messed up. Stupid. Dysfunctional. Problematic. Because she'd obeyed, done her best to appease them, to survive. But she'd stopped believing. In the handlers, in the truth of the rules, in the power of their orders.
"No," she whispered. Because she could. "Never."
"Stubborn, little shit." The man reached for his taser.
Bea spun on her heel and ran.
"Fuck," the man yelled. "After her. Go! Go!"
She heard footsteps behind her, the screeching tires of the van as it turned on the street, and she knew she wouldn't be able to escape them.
But she didn't need to. She just needed to make it around a corner or two, just clear the path to the alley with Adrian and the runway.
And she knew she could do that.
Good job, Bea, she thought.
Running away from a WRU reacquisition team, her good shoes carrying her, wind in her face, raindrops on her skin, Bea felt herself smile.
She still did, two corners later, when the van drove on the sidewalk in front of her, when a baton crashed into her ribs and she was thrown over the van's hood. When a scanner beeped over her wrist, when the man mumbled number and designation.
For the first time, it didn't feel like hers.
She wasn't a number. She was Bea. And finally, she knew, who Bea was meant be.
----
-
pet safety tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy @whumpzone @tragedyinblue @theelvishcowgirl @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps
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1:32AM Tomura Shigiraki
“Hey, hold on a second.”
Tomura reached to give you an embrace, but your own hands reached to wrap around wrists first, quickly bringing him to a stop. He stared at you, baffled, and cocked his head to the side, almost as if he was a confused puppy dog. You couldn’t prevent the subtle smile creeping up on you from taking hold of your face.
”Won’t you… yknow.. Decay me or whatever?”
Tomura’s eyes were instantly lit with realization, and you could see him mentally face palm. Despite his foolishness he played it off coyly, making eye contact with you and pulling the corners of his mouth into a haughty smirk.
”Technichally I would only decay that cute little top… witch I personally wouldn’t mind”
You felt your face heat up as he did that thing where he looked at your eyes,and then your lips, then your eyes again. God, this man was going to make you lose your sanity.
”I-I have to be up early tomorrow!” You blurted.
You wished you didn’t or you might’ve let him stay the night.
Tomura’s face lit up in glee as you giggled, feeling a little embarrassed. You allowed your eyes to flutter towards the ground in favor of breaking eye contact with him and his stupid smirk.
”Relax hon, I wasn’t gonna put all my fingers down. Now come give me a hug goodnight.”
You sighed as you gave in, and allowed him to give you a quick squeeze, before stumbling inside to your apartment all giddy and flustered.
You mumbled something to yourself about how that man was gonna be the death of you as you made yourself a cup of something hot to sip. But rethinking the events of the night, you had an idea.
-
A few months later you were hit with a sense of deja vu as Tomura walked you to your apartment door.
“Thanks for today, sweetheart. It sucks I gotta leave early for work tommorow, but I really did have a great time.”
You gave him a little smile as you fumbled through your purse, searching for something.
“Yeah I’m glad we went ahead and celebrated your birthday a day early, but i have one more thing-“
You giggled in anticipation as you pulled out a parcel wrapped in decorative paper and bows.
“It’s for you.”
Tomura’s face lit up with an uncharachteristicly soft glow as he leaned over to give you a peck on the cheeck, and grab the package.
“Awe doll, you’ve already spoiled me rotten today, I dunno what I did to deserve you.”
he said it sarcastically and you returned the favor by rolling you eyes, but you knew he meant it.
“Open it all ready!”
You batted his his lips away from your face as he tried to give you a few more kisses, and encouraged him to open the packaging.
He gently tore the packaging apart, slightly taken back as he pulled out a pair of gloves. They were all fingerless, save the pinky, and were a smooth, comfy fabric that matched his color scheme.
“I knitted them myself”
He looked to you and then back at the gloves.
“You don’t say?” He mumbled quietly.
He slipped them on and wiggled his fingers. In the palm was a little tag that spelled: “I love you! -Y/n”
He blinked his eyes a few times to fight away tears before he wrapped you in the biggest hug. For once he didn’t worry about how many fingers he had on you, all that mattered was your embrace. He lifted you off the ground and spun you. Once he set you down he held your jaw in both his hands and kissed you hard. As you broke away, slightly out of breath, you noticed the tears he wasn’t bothering to fight anymore.
“I love you tomura.”
“I love you more baby. You don’t even realize how much I do.”
“I wish you could stay..”
Tomura grinned.
“Oh would you look at that.”
He was stopped by a fit of coughing.
“I think I’m coming down with a cold. Kurogiri can handle being in charge tomorrow anyways.”
You giggled as he scooped you up in his arms. You spun your keys around your finger and he yanked them out of your hand to unlock the door, kicking it shut behind him.
Author’s Note: Haven’t been on this blog in awhile. I’m back to give it some TLC !Friendly reminder that my asks are open! Don’t be shy to send something my way..
Reposts are always appreciated <3
#shigaraki tomura#anime fluff#anime x reader#cher.writes#anime x y/n#mha fluff#mha villains#villain x reader#tomura shigiraki x reader#shigiraki x reader#mha x reader#mha fanfiction#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#league of villains#fluff#knitting#I guess?#he's to sweet though
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The Fuck Up FINAL Chapter 6
Summary: Bucky fucked up. A few times. Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?
Warnings: language, smut, mentions of war, injury, pregnancy
Bucky unofficially moved in with Y/N that first week. He never slept at his parents’ house anymore, and moved almost all of his things over to her house. It wasn’t something they discussed, it was just assumed that he was staying. As Bucky started his retirement from the military he got a job at the local bookshop in the small town she lived in. Her income from the online company she worked for and the photography side business was enough to handle the bills by herself, but he wanted to contribute and make sure he was doing his part in providing what little he could outside of his military benefits.
They’d gotten into a routine, becoming the little family that he’d always dreamed of. Avi grew and his sweet personality started to shine through. Every day seemed like a celebration of some kind in Bucky’s mind. Avi’s first roll over, his first uncomplaining tummy time, his first word, his first stand, it all was cause for an announcement as his baby got stronger. His relationship with Y/N was slower and more intentional as they got to know each other in this new dynamic. After Avi’s first birthday Bucky felt like it was time to shoot his shot.
“Hey honey!” he called out as he got home.
“Hey!” she called back from the kitchen. He followed her voice and saw her cooking dinner as Avi was in the bouncer watching “Bluey” and kicking his legs frantically. The whole scene was so domestic, so wholesome, that he smiled widely as he walked over to Avi.
“Hey little man!” he greeted him. Avi turned to him and smiled, grunting and reaching his hands up for him. “Come here. Have you been good for Mama today?” Avi gurgled a response as Bucky picked him up and hugged him, kissing his cheek.
“He was great,” Y/N answered, turning to look at Bucky briefly before going back to the stove.
Bucky approached her and gave her a side hug and kissed her temple. “And how was your day?”
Y/N returned his side hug and squished Avi’s cheek before focusing on the pan in front of her. “It was alright. Got that big project finally done. If I don’t have to answer another email from that John dude again it will be a great day,” she said as she started plating the pasta dish she’d made.
“Ugh, John,” Bucky grumped as Avi made a noise. “Yeah, fuck John.”
“Buck!” Y/N slapped his arm. “Quit using grown up words in front of the baby!”
Bucky laughed as he moved away from her when she tried to swipe at him again. They all sat at the table and ate dinner, talking about their days and what was on the schedule coming up in the next week.
“What are you doing next Saturday?” Bucky asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Uh…nothing. Why?” Y/N asked, finishing her bite of food.
“Well, I may or may not have asked my parents to watch Avi that night,” he said, not looking at her.
Y/N’s eyes narrowed at him. “Okay?”
He then leaned forward on the table and looked at her. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”
Y/N’s eyes widened, her eyebrows raising and a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “A date?” Bucky nodded. “You and me?” He nodded again, a smirk forming on his lips. She paused as she looked at him, her smile widening. “Yeah…okay.”
Bucky’s smirked deepened and he looked down at the table. “Awesome. Wear something comfy.”
A week later Bucky’s parents showed up to watch Avi. They shooed Bucky and Y/N out the door, shutting it firmly for good measure. “Jeez,” Y/N scoffed. “Well, where are you taking me, Buck?”
“The next town over,” Bucky said as he opened her passenger side car door for her. She got in and they drove off. After about 35 minutes of them talking he pulled up to a massage place.
“Oh my god,” Y/N sputtered as he helped her out of the car. “Is this a spa night?”
“Damn right,” Bucky replied, holding her hand and pulling her inside.
They were ushered into a room where they were given the run down of the couples package. When they were left alone Y/N turned to Bucky. “We’re going to get professional facials and massages, and then be left alone to…massage each other? What kind of massage place did you take us to?”
“The kind of place that believes in romance,” Bucky said, giving her a teasing look of looking taken aback. “Don’t you believe in romance?”
Y/N laughed at his affronted gaze. “Of course I do. This is just very romantic for a first date.”
“So you’re saying I have a chance at a second?” he leaned in, wiggling his eyebrows at her. She laughed again as the estheticians came in to start the facials.
Bucky had wanted a spa night for Y/N, but didn’t realize just how much she needed one until he heard all the sounds she made as they lay side by side on the tables getting the facials and massages. Her moans, groans, and whimpers were making him struggle to keep decency in front of his masseuse. When they were left alone with glasses of champagne after the couples massage they both sat up on their respective tables.
“God, that was good,” Y/N sighed as she stretched her legs and arms, holding the towel around her.
“Wasn’t it?” Bucky agreed as he kept a hold of his towel around his hips. He stood up to stretch as well and turned around to adjust the blanket on the table. When he did he heard a gasp behind him and looked at Y/N. She was staring at his back. He almost forgot about the scars from the shrapnel, and quickly turned back and sat so she couldn’t see them.
“Buck…” she stood and moved towards him. “What…?”
Bucky sighed as he let her come to him and she swerved around to see his back, her fingers softly running along one of the scars. “I’m fine, Y/N.” She looked at his face, her eyes starting to well up with tears. “Oh honey, no,” he reached up and cupped her cheek. “Seriously, I’m fine. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I should have…I’m sorry,” he rubbed her cheek with his thumb, swiping an errant tear away.
“What happened?” Y/N said, her free hand now resting on his chest.
Bucky breathed deeply. “One of my guys stepped on a landmine.” Y/N’s eyes blinked rapidly to stop any more tears from falling, and she bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. “It threw me and Steve, we were both hit with shrapnel. Two of our teammates were killed. It took two surgeries but they got it all out and I was healing by the time I got home,” he finished, and moved his hand from her face to her hand on his chest. “I’m okay. I should have told you…” he swallowed and looked away from her.
Y/N took her hand away from his chest and adjusted her towel tightly around her so she could use both hands. She stepped between his legs and reached up to cradle his face in her hands to make him look at her. She looked at him for a moment, then pulled him into a hug. She held his head against her chest and her hands wandered to run through his hair that had finally grown back out to the length she liked, massaged his neck and his shoulders, and skimmed lightly down his back, tracing the scars. Bucky accepted the embrace, tucking his face into her neck as she moved her hands, his fingers gripping the towel at her back. He felt her kiss the side of his head, then his cheek, then she moved his head back and started to kiss along his jawline.
Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed as she continued kissing his face. She kept narrowly missing his lips, driving him crazy with every pass. “You came home to me,” she murmured, her lips grazing his skin.
“I promised,” Bucky whispered back, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “You are my home, honey. Always have been.”
Y/N moved so her nose skimmed along his cheek, her breath fanning his face. “And you’ve always been mine.” Then she kissed him.
It was like their night together all over again. Her kiss felled the last wall of their friendship, and blasted his last shred of sanity. He kissed her back wildly, his hands pulling her against him as if he was afraid she’d disappear. It felt so right, predestined, predetermined, that they should be together sharing this moment. Then there was a knock at the door.
“Excuse me, Barnes couple? Your time is up!”
Y/N broke the kiss but didn’t move far, still holding Bucky’s face. He sighed loudly before clearing his throat. “Thank you, we’ll be out shortly!”
Y/N giggled, then briefly kissed him again. “It’s getting late, we should get home and relieve your parents.”
Bucky hung his head. “Yeah, let’s go home.”
After they got home and got Avi to sleep, Bucky entered Y/N’s room. She watched him as he slowly walked over to her. “Thank you for going out with me tonight.”
Y/N laughed and hugged him, looking up at him. “Thank you for the spa night. I really needed that.”
“You deserve it,” Bucky said seriously. “Can I take you out again?”
“Yes,” she said immediately. “I’d love that.”
“I feel like we’ve jumped a lot of steps,” Bucky laughed.
“We have. I already love you,” Y/N admitted, looking away and leaning her forehead against his chest, hiding her face.
Bucky’s heart felt like it could burst. “I’ve always loved you,” he admitted. He used his finger to lift her chin back up to look at him. “I love you, honey. I’m in love with you. You’re it for me.”
Y/N pulled back and laced her fingers into his hair, pulling him down so she could reach and kiss him. “You’re it for me.”
THE END
I hope y'all liked this one! I got a lot of comments on it being infuriating, which was great. Thank you for all the likes, comments, reblogs and follows! <3
#marvel#smut#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x reader#series fanfic#chapter 6#final chapter#soldier!bucky barnes#marine!bucky barnes#buckywiththelonghair
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The end is here.
She really doesn’t want to dwell on what he told her. Quite frankly she doesn’t want to see him for a solid week and deal with the awkward greetings that would surely come from this conversation, but she promised food and Kendra always delivers. So she pours herself into kneading the bread and shaping the dough into a perfect loaf.
He’s sitting on the couch staring into nothing again. She calls his name to let him know dinner is done but he doesn’t even acknowledge her. So she tries again. And again and again and again. Rolling her eyes she walks into the living room, a steaming bowl of soup in hand.
“ If you don’t get over here I will pour this soup all over you.”
No response. She debates chucking her shoe at him before deciding she didn’t feel like getting punched. Instead she opted for nudging his shoulder. He jolts, eyes wide as he looks at her.
“ Wha-“
“ Dinner is done” she interrupts, pushing the bowl of soup into his hands. “ The bread will be done cooking in a few minutes if you want to wait for that. Or you can eat the soup now and the bread when it’s done. I don’t care.”
He blinks slowly before nodding slightly and getting up slowly. Still looking a bit dazed as he walks back over to the kitchen to sit on a stool. He’s not leaking tears anymore so that’s good. They sit in a semi-comfortable silence eating their soup before he gets up.
“ Dinner was nice.” He says, his voice barley above a whisper, “ Thanks ” and heads toward the bathroom.
Kendra just sits. This was way above her level as roommate. Aside from the fact that he had made most of the meal and definitely did not need to be thanking her, she seriously did not need to be dealing with his trauma. That’s what she gets for accepting free rent. Beggars can’t be choosers she supposed.
~
He kind of wanted to die. This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go. Sighing he looked into the mirror and froze. The mask she put on was nearly the same shade as his skin. It covers up his markings leaving him looking 16 again. Just how he looked when he lost his brothers. To make it worse his hair was wrapped in a purple satin bonnet. A reminder of his past decisions. He laughed, slightly manic, at the pure irony of it all. The leader of the clique he abandoned his sister for was living in his home. And he was more than fine with it.
The world crumpled around him as he stumbled away from the mirror sinking towards the ground. He couldn’t face himself. He couldn’t move. He failed them all. A sob erupted from his chest as he curled himself into a ball. He was dimly aware of the footsteps that signaled someone had walked in, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
~
In all her years Kendra has never heard a sound like that. She’d heard people break down as in juvy or as they left the therapy office, but not a single person managed to shine a light to the broken sobs coming from Othello. She had no idea how to handle the situation. But she really really couldn’t just leave him here shaking and huddled against the wall, boarder line hyperventilating as his eyes didn’t focus on anything. Apparently living with someone long enough gets you caring for them.
Gently wiping the mask of his face she runs through her options. She could offer a hug, or gentle words, or she could leave. She wasn’t sure how he would respond to anything seeing as didn’t seem to know quite where he was, so she opted for holding his hand and rubbing circles into his palm. He didn’t respond. Great. Just great. She sat there for a moment, holding his hand and trying to pretend this wasn’t happening to her.
She kept rubbing circles into his palm even as she pulled her phone out and pressed play on the music he had chosen earlier. Careful to keep her voice low and even as she started to sing along to the first song on the playlist, something from Frank Sinatra. She hated singing, but it wasn’t like he was aware enough to know it was her.
“ You ready to get that mask out?” She half whispered once the song finished, motioning toward the shower.
He didn’t seem to notice that she had even spoken at all. If anything the tears got stronger as she watched him. Ok fine. Words don’t work, but he can’t resist physical force… Hopefully.
Tapping him on the shoulder she managed to get him to be present enough to be guided/ shoved slowly to the shower. He sunk into the tub and curled up again, his tail wrapping around his legs like a vice. She turned the water on and rinsed the mask from his hair. He made to reaction, even when she accidentally pulled some of his hair as she was wringing the water out. It was almost scary to see him act like this. Almost.
He was soaked from head to toe and made no move to dry himself. But there was no way she was going let him leave the bathroom and make a mess of the floor. She didn’t want to leave him alone but she also wasn’t too keen on sitting next to a wet turtle until he calmed down or tired himself out enough to fall asleep. She was wet too, seeing as she had to crawl into the tub to make sure she actually cleaned his hair properly. Sighing she left to the laundry room in search of clean clothes. She loves her dad but being raised in the mindset of gotong royong was really coming to bite her in the butt.
~
His hair was braided into two long braids and then tied into little buns at the top of his head before a pair of overalls were thrown at him. He hadn’t even noticed that his clothes has been soaked in the shower. He wasn’t exactly sure where the overalls had come from, but anything was better than the now overstimulating feeling of wet clothes. The door was clicked shut as he stared at the fresh set of clothes. Silently thankful wet hair wasn’t cascading down his back he shed the layer of sopping wet clothes and pulled the fresh ones over himself. Then he sat back down. He didn’t want to move. He was still sobbing. He felt sick. The door opened again and he was nudged away from the wall and led toward the living room. A warm blanket was quickly wrapped around his as he was guided to the couch.
His hand was removed from the blanket after a moment and placed in hers as she carefully painted each nail a shade of his signature dark purple. He reached up to rub the tear stains from his cheeks before a hand stopped his. She tutted something about needing his nails to dry before reaching up and wiping his tears away herself. He felt like a child again and curled his legs to his chest as she grabbed his other hand. His nubs lacked a nail bed so she improvised, sticking a fake nail at the end of each one. She painted those too. He watched the whole time, his chest hitching as it tried to catch up with his disgusting display of emotion. It was getting kind of tiring.
You don’t deserve this. You aren’t deserving of love.
You stood there cradling your twin in your arms as he died. You watched your younger brother rip himself apart to bring a what was left of your twin through a portal. You did nothing as you watched your older brother waste away into nothing, didn’t even try to call the Baron, so sure you could fix it. You are the reason they are gone.
It was all his fault.
Sobs rip through this chest as he spirals. He’s not done, but his body decides that it’s done when he heaves. His dinner threatens to make a reappearance as he somehow manages to sob even harder. Clutching a hand to his mouth he manages to lift his head high enough to look at Kendra. She’s terrified, a hand hesitantly reaching out, not touching. He jerkily shakes his head and tries to ask for a bucket. The word seem stuck in his throat and he ends up just making garbled nonsense. She doesn’t make a move to grab anything until he makes an audible heaving noise. Her eyes widen larger as she runs to grab a bowl. It’s thrown against his stomach, the force of it causing him to gag. He ducks his head into the bowl as his stomach releases his dinner.
His throat burns as his stomach continues to try and empty itself despite already being empty. Bile dribbles from his mouth and drips into the bowl, the sound indistinguishable from the sound of his tears hitting the bottom. He wheezes again as thoughts continue to berate his mind.
Worthless. Pathetic. Stupid. What are you five? Grow up and get a grip. Go back to your lab and suffer alone.
He’s ripped from his spiral as he hears a familiar tune. A Jupiter Jim movie is currently blasting on the TV. He laughs a little, but it turns into a broken sob , as the fact that his brothers will never experience the movie with him again invades his mind. Determined to make himself invisible he wraps the blanket around himself as tight as he can.
Go to sleep. Relax.
It’s an aggressive switch from hatred to care and he wonders dimly just how much of the voices he heard were himself. Too tired to really care, he sinks into the corner of the couch. His head rests against the arm rest as the tears finally begin to slow. He tries to get them to stop completely, but ends up making annoying little noises that make it obvious he was trying to stop. He stops trying after a few minutes and condemns himself to the constant waterfall of tears.
His eyes are horrifically puffy and it was getting hard to keep them open. So he doesn’t try. He slowly nods off, tears and his favorite musical number washing over him.
~
When he startles awake he’s confused. This is definitely not his room. The day’s events come crashing down on him and he groans, dragging his hand over his face. A headache beats at his head as he glances around at the living room. A water bottle was placed on the table at the edge of the couch, as well as a bottle of ibuprofen and another bowl. He notices suddenly that his mouth still tastes like bile and takes a long draw from the bottle before swallowing the pills. His face is miraculously clean though. Guilt rips through him as he realizes Kendra must have cleaned the mess from his face while he slept. Trying not to dwell to much on that, he looks over at the table again. There’s a slice of bread there too, and a bottle of Gatorade, which he gladly uncaps and downs.
He’s about to get up when he notices a pressure shift against him. Kendra is asleep. She’s wearing one of his hoodies for some reason. It’s so big it practically swallows her, but she looks comfy. Her head is nestled into his side, her arm wrapped loosely around his middle, tightening slightly as he shifts. It’s a wonder he hadn’t noticed her against him sooner.
His chest tightens as he looks down at her. The way she’s curled against him reminds him of the way Mikey used to cling to him when they had sleepovers.
Was it selfish of him? To act like this? To cling to the past? To shut himself away while everyone else suffered? To force other people to care for him because he was too broken to help himself? To allow her to become a mirror of what he wanted more than anything? To force her into a mold she didn’t know she was even a part of all because he wants his brothers back?
He knows she’s not them, so why does he want her so close? It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t know how to feel about her. It’s not like he loves her. He loved his brothers, he loves Draxum and Cas to an extent, so it would make sense that he would learn to love Kendra too, in his unique familial bond way. But this is new, different, something he’s never felt before. How strange.
He probably needs to get Sheldon to run a health check because his heart is way to fast and he feels way too hot and it’s a getting a little hard to breathe.
He hates himself for even thinking it, but he wants her to feel the same way about him he feels about her. He knows it’s will never happen though. He’ll never be enough for her, and she’ll never settle for a husk of a man. Not even as a friend. She’s made that bit clear.
Part of him wants to go back to his own room and turn off the lights and lay there as he tries his best not to think. But the thought of leaving Kendra keeps him rooted to the couch. He doesn’t want to move away from her. So instead of fleeing to the safety of his lab he chooses to slowly remove the blanket he’s wrapped in and drape it over of her sleeping form. There’s a pause before he before gently lays his arm across her. She shifts again as he adjusts the blanket over her and he freezes. But she settles down again and buries her head closer against him. He likes it, he likes her so close to him, and he hates that he does. He doesn’t deserve this. His arm seems to have a mind of its own as a nub of a thumb absently strokes the skin on her cheek. The motion is soothing and he slowly drifts back to sleep. She’s going to kill him when she wakes up.
Fun fact : gotong royong is the concept of bearing burdens among members of a community/ family common in Indonesian cultures.
Well I hope y’all had fun, I know I did.
You
YOU
Amazing motherfucker. Now I GOTTA draw more of the comic you sicko
You monster
YouuuuuYOUUUUU RARARARARARARARARARARARRARA
#side note I very much love this#so much#ur very good with writing hot diggity damn homeskittle#asks and replies
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STRAY KIDS X CLICHE MEETCUTES - LEE FELIX
word count | 0.7k
warnings | none
now playing . . . just go by arlo parks
the other meetcutes
it was only 8:47, and you had already decided that today was not your day. your alarm had decided not to go off, leaving you scrambling to get ready for school in time. you missed your bus, and the next one had also decided to both be super late and jammed full, so you had spent your entire journey trying to keep your face out of the bag of the guy standing in front of you.
you had ended up arriving at school after the gates shut, so you were forced to wait outside until a member of staff noticed you and eventually let you in, at which point you started running to your locker to stash your stuff, hoping you wouldn’t miss any of your first class of the day.
a quick check over the timetable taped to the door of your locker reminded you that this was the most intense day on your schedule, forcing you to heave books, folders and assignments for your first three classes out of your bag. you clutched them to your chest, and sighed heavily as you slammed your locker shut and immediately turned to speed to your class.
though, of course, this too could not go smoothly.
unable to process what was happening in the moment, the next thing you knew was that everything you had just hauled out of your locker was now splayed all over the floor of the corridor. sheets of paper covered the tiles and the sight of your books’ spines bent over themselves made you want to cry.
you dropped to your knees, sniffing and trying to keep your emotions in check as the weight of all your bad luck hit you full force.
it hadn’t even occurred to you what you had bumped into, or even that you had bumped into anything. as far as you could tell, this was just another random incident that the universe had decided to stack on top of all the other shitty things you had already had to deal with today.
you only really realised that there was anybody around you at all when a boy knelt down in front of you, apologising for his carelessness as he crawled around the floor trying to help you collect up your things.
he wasn’t someone you knew, or at least you didn’t think you recognised him through your tear-blurred eyes. he smiled when he saw you looking at him, and apologised again, which you fiercely rejected, explaining that it was all your fault and you were just a little all over the place today.
‘oh, i hope you’re alright,’ he said, ‘i can help you carry this stuff to your class if you like, i have a free period right now.’
on any other day you probably wouldn’t have accepted, would’ve insisted it was fine and that you could handle it. but today you jumped on the offer.
‘that would be great actually, if you don’t mind.’
he shook his head and picked up the stack he had collected, following your lead as you began to walk to your classroom. you were still nervous about being last to go into your class, not wanting to attract attention to your already dishevelled appearance, but your nerves began to fade as you spoke to your new friend.
his name was felix, and, much to your embarrassment, he told you you had met once before, very briefly, when your friend had introduced him to you as her partner on a project. he didn’t seem to mind the fact that you had forgotten, but you still cringed at the fact that you had somehow managed to make this first - or rather second - impression even worse.
you didn’t have any classes together though, so it wasn’t too big of a failure on your part, but as you walked him through your schedule for the day you found a few similarities between teachers, including the dreaded mr. son who was taking your class right before break.
felix had even managed to make you laugh by the time you reached your classroom, placing his half of your books atop yours as he wished you good luck for the rest of your day and, as you trudged from class to class, you were thrilled to see him waiting for you, leaning against the wall outside mr. son’s office, having already collected what your friend had advised him was your favourite drink from the shop down the street.
#stray kids#stray kids felix#skz#skz felix#lee felix#stray kids fluff#skz fluff#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#stray kids imagines#skz imagines
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I wrote this a while ago but I fell back onto it while I was warming up on writing and decided to revise it and post it on ao3!
Ao3 link
Eddie skimmed the books on the shelf in front of him, there was no use in trying to find one he was interested in. He would forget about it somewhere in his room anyway and choose one of the Lord of the Rings books to read again. Instead, he lets himself wander through his thoughts, lost in some random DnD scenario he had made up that involved him fighting a group of dragons. Letting his body go on autopilot as his fingers gently brush the spines of every book in his reach mindlessly. He furrowed his eyebrows as he made a mental note to include this scenario in one of his campaigns later. He was sure the boys would enjoy it, especially Gareth, who had anger issues and loved releasing some of that energy onto a fictional dragon.
He should be in gym class, but he isn’t. The consequences of skipping were far better than those of actually showing up. The last time he went (over a month ago now) he ended up walking out with a chipped tooth and black eye. And he can’t forget about the bruised ego. That hurt worse than being hit in the face. Physical Pain he could handle, but his poor innocent ego could not handle the abuse.
Walking at the end of one aisle, he carefully turns and moves himself into the next. He prepares to loop through the next aisle but nearly jumps out of his skin when he almost falls over another person sitting down with their back pressed to the shelf.
A croak-like noise comes out of the back of his throat as he nearly tumbles face-first into the carpet. He stumbles forward a bit and catches his balance on the shelf to the left of him. His heart races as he secretly prays to everything holy that he didn’t somehow knock the entire shelf over. That would be his luck and land him in an infinite amount of after-school detention.
“Jesus H Christ.” He spits out, a hand pressed against his chest as he dramatically breathes heavier than normal purposely putting on a show for whoever nearly killed him. Turning around to face the culprit he jumps back again startled.
Sitting, pretty pathetically Eddie would say, was a beat-up Steve Harrington. Who looked like a horror movie had a crossover with reality. His eyes, or singular eye, were glossed over and wide as he started stuttering over his words.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up like that.” Steve visibly cringes at his words, as if he was also aware he seemed pathetic. If that's not the case, Eddie would assume Steve had been cringing at his words slurring together. That was the only logical answer as there was no way Steve Harrington was cringing at him.
“Eh- it’s alright. Not the first time a king has tried taking me out.” He grins, before faltering a bit as he remembers that the other wouldn’t understand that he was referencing DnD and not something gay. But for all, Eddie knew Steve probably correlated Dnd with weird faggots anyway.
He begins to walk away, wanting the awkward interaction to be over so that he can move on and cringe at the whole situation on a random night in the future. But he can’t help but be a bit nosy as his eyes glance down at the book in Steve’s lap. It probably had been open at one point, but it was now closed and Eddie is secretly thankful he can read upside down.
“Head injuries huh?” He points out. “Didn’t take you for a reader King Steve.” He drags the other’s name out a bit longer than he has to as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocks a hip out. He has an unreadable smile, his teeth showing in a weak attempt at being somewhat civil with the other, but he still wanted to have his guard up just in case.
He didn’t personally enjoy talking with asshole jocks, but what he did like was to know some things. He liked having some lore for the people around him for backup reasons aka blackmail.
“I’m not.” Steve snorts as he lifts the book. “Just trying to do some research, I don’t know if you have eyes but my face is pretty smashed in right now.” He retorts back with a little bit of sass. Eddie notes how his words slur like he is drunk. Eddie could spot a drunk anywhere and Steve Harrington seemed a hundred percent sober and fully aware of his surroundings. (Besides the possibility of tripping someone up by sitting on the corner of a damn shelf but that is beside the point)
Furrowing his eyebrows, just a bit concerned he doesn’t let up the banter. He purposely forces his eyelids open with one hand and jokingly presses a fingertip against his eye before pulling back. Blinking the tears out of his slightly agitated right eye he brings two thumbs up and comments, “We are in the clear I, Eddie Munson, let the record show, have eyeballs.” He grins dramatically.
“Want a gold star for that poncho.” Steve snorts not wasting a second to retort in response to the other as he shakes his head amused. His body tenses up a bit as he goes pale for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut with shaky breaths as his fists tighten around the book he is holding.
“Yes I do in fact want a gold star-” Eddie mumbles out gently, face scrunching up a bit more worried now as he moves his crossed arms off his chest and takes a few steps closer to the other.
“Hey Harrington, you alright? You don’t seem like your typical charming self.” He comments as he hesitates for a moment before he crouches down. He makes sure to leave a few inches between the two of them, far enough to not be to close but close enough to catch the other if he slumped over.
Steve gives a weak nod of his head before he adjusts himself. “Yeah- just moved my head too much. Happens sometimes you know?” He chuckles gently. Eddie did not know what he meant, didn't know how to respond, and when he didn't know how to react he normally shot off an awkward quip or two.
“Oh thank god, you were looking a little green. I Was worried you were about to hulk out on me buddy.” Eddie jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. He then lifts his hand and runs one of his rings against the bottom of his lip (a nervous tic of his) before glancing back down at the book.
“Find anything good in there, or are you just holding it for show?” Eddie asks gently, trying to come off a bit more teasing rather than concerned. The longer he stayed around this guy the more he was convinced that he needed to get the book read ASAP.
Steve snorts again, sounding a bit stressed as he nearly shakes his head no again but stops himself before making that mistake again. “No, couldn’t even make it through the first page without wanting to throw up.” He groans as he quickly adds. “Not because I don’t want to read it, it’s just the words won’t sit still and it hurts my eyes which then hurts my head.” He groans as he opens his eyes back up fully and looks down at the book with a little huff. Where Eddie was crouched he could see the other boy's eyes watering.
“Could always get a nerd to do your homework for you,” Eddie jokes, slightly hinting towards Wheeler. “Heard that girlfriend of yours had a decent brain on her, she seems like the type to understand that you’ll need help.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at the other.
Steve makes a noise that Eddie can’t even place, it sounds like the mixture of a laugh and a snort combined. “Can’t, I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with Byers and wants nothing to do with me now. And I don’t want to feel any more stupid around her.” He mumbles the last sentence out.
Eddie looks a bit surprised, he hadn’t taken Mrs Priss to be a cheater. He furrows his eyebrows again in thought. “If you give me a twenty I’ll read that book for you and try answering any questions you have.” He spits it out before he can fully think about it. He was an impulsive person who didn't like seeing people struggle what could he say?
But Eddie didn’t want to seem completely like a sweetheart to the other as he still had doubts about the other. Plus he had to keep up the image he had going on or people wouldn’t take him seriously during deals around here. And he didn’t want to ruin said image by helping Steve Harrington of all people.
Steve squints his good eye at Eddie suspiciously, “I’ll pay you a hundred if you don’t mention this to anybody else.” Good, at least Eddie wasn't the only skeptic here.
Even though he was very skeptical Eddie still felt a little shitty for doing this but an image had to be kept and money had to be made somehow.
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Harrington.” His grin isn’t fully authentic as he takes the book from the other before he does a playful salute and stands up fully. he hesitates for a moment longer tempted to ask the other if he needs help from the nurse but Eddie decides he is already giving enough charity as is and begins back on his path of slaying dragons and saving damsels in distress.
#steddie#post season 2#Steve got his ass handed to him#Eddie finds him in the library and offers help#because Eddie is like that#eddie munson#revised one shot I wrote a while ago#steve harrington#steve x eddie#stranger things#ao3
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A follow up/expansion on the Robot replaces Dead Vox scenario au
For simplicity's sake I'll refer to Vox's robot replacement as the Proxy. And any possible future posts about this au will be tagged under "The Proxy AU"
(Do take note that some of these things may be subject to change as I expand on this au in time)
Thank you @theautotrophic for your questions! ^w^
Vox made the Proxy at first after his fallout with Alastor as a way to let out his self loathing. So Alastor didn't know about it.
The Proxy is almost direct reconstruction of his body but improved to better at handling overheating amongst other things while also having the chest area be more… masculine. (If you headcanon Vox as Trans ontop of my headcanon that he can't exactly have permanent top surgery because sinner regeneration is a bitch)
The biggest difference between Vox and the Proxy is that the Proxy doesn't have alot of shark-like qualities unlike Vox since Vox was still terrified of sharks when he made the Proxy.
So the Proxy doesn't have any dorsal like fins and his tail is a retractable cord tail instead of a retractable shark tail. But it still does have the gills as its vents.
There's also details on his backside specifically that he couldn't replicate because well… It's not like he can see his back.
The Proxy was meant to be Vox's attempt to upgrade his body as a way to cope with his fallout with Alastor. After all, if he can upgrade his head, why can't he upgrade his body?
Unfortunately, he couldn't actually replace his body with the Proxy. And the idea of completely getting rid of it didn't sit right with him since he wasted alot of materials and time into making it.
It'll be a waste to scrap it but it's not like he could admit that he made the Proxy in a state of weakness to his only business partner friend left.
After some time of calming down, he realized that he could use the Proxy as a back up plan if things go south with him.
At this point, he still didn't know he could transfer parts of his memories into flashdrives to download them somewhere else. But he reasoned that he could theoretically make a head for the Proxy and program it to act like him.
So knowing that there's a chance Valentino would see the Proxy because you can't exactly hide a life-sized "improved" replica of your body, he told Valentino that the Proxy could be a backup plan for him if things go south before Valentino could find out about it through other means.
At the time, Valentino was utterly confused and pretty disturbed at the information.
But it was something they never really brought up again since they both wanted to forget it.
Velvette didn't actually know about the Proxy until it happened.
After his close fight with Alastor wherein Valentino intervened before Alastor disappeared, his thoughts went back to the Proxy as he realized that he could actually die.
His media empire with Valentino and Velvette was already growing and if anything happened to him, the technological and broadcasting aspect of their business would fall over without him acting as the head.
And their reputation would take a hit if Valentino and Velvette was forced to rebrand Voxtek in the case of his death. Especially if their competitors sees his death as something that'll weaken the Vees.
He couldn't bare letting the Vees go without an actual backup plan in case something happened to him.
So while he and Valentino healed from the battle with Alastor, he took some time upgrading the Proxy to be up to date and actually modifying and programming it so that it could actually act like him in case something happened.
He didn't bother making the Proxy a head of its own since he knew he always upgraded his head and it would just be a waste of time.
But he did set up a machine that can automatically give the Proxy a head after the head that'll be installed has the proper programming and necessary memories installed inside.
The Proxy doesn't actually have any personality of its own unlike Kitty wherein Vox put in the extra effort to give it some personality thay he knows Valentino would like since it was a gift for him (just like how Vark was a gift for Vox from Val which helped him embraced his shark-like qualities)
The Proxy is programmed to handle broadcasting, interviews, and public meetings. Pretty much every public appearance Vox had to make.
The memories downloaded into the Proxy mostly isn't personal at all, and they mostly only pertain to the business and important aspects of their business. (So it doesn't have any personal memories of Alastor)
Though there are also programmed codes and memories on how to handle Valentino and Velvette to make sure they don't fly off the handle based on Vox's previous interactions. With more emphasis on how to specifically handle a Valentino who's having a fit just in case.
Though when the two of them goes against the programmed interaction the Proxy has on them, then it has some difficulty.
After all, it wasn't like it has anything to work off on on how to handle a grieving Valentino and Velvette.
It takes alot of energy from the Proxy to handle its daily public appearances. And it's unable to do surveillance unlike Vox as any attempts to do so would overload its systems and it'll just crash.
When its not on "public appearance" mode, the Proxy is on a "low power savings" mode around the Vees as it tries to keep up the appearance of a businessman for the other employees. Though it visibly buffers and pauses at times, causing its face to disappear.
Sometimes Valentino and Velvette would manually power it off to be hidden somewhere out of plain sight.
It's a miracle if they could remember to plug it in through its tail cord or its actual charger or another charger so it could recharge.
Something that Vox's assistant has to keep up on consistently unless he wants to reschedule the entire day so that the people who are none the wiser won't be confused or upset that Vox had to reschedule their meetings and other public appearances. (Poor Eelliot)
As for Vox's death well… I'll keep that to your imaginations for now :D
But I will say that one of the reasons Alastor knows Vox is dead is because of how their shared frequency went completely silent.
Meanwhile, the Vees have a contract to ensure that everything the deceased Vee has under their possession would be transferred to the other Vees in the event of their death so that they won't lose any power, souls, properties, and ect that the other Overlords and Kingpins could steal.
Even when Valentino and Velvette didn't know where Vox was or how he died, the both of them physically felt Vox's powers and possessions going to them after he died, confirming his death.
Valentino quickly went to Vox's surveillance and control room to desperately search for him while there was an Extermination going on outside.
It took everything from Velvette to convince him not to go outside when he could also be killed and then Vox would be fucking upset with them.
(Neither of them said a word that there was no more Vox to be upset with them ever again)
When they finally located his body, they quickly collected him discreetly so that noone else would know that the Vees lost its eldest member.
Neither of them said a word as they hugged the cold, lifeless corpse.
A stark contrast to the warmth Vox constantly radiated despite his calm and collected persona.
It took some time for Valentino to finally put Proxy to use.
Some of Vox's shows having a few reruns while he gathers the courage to face the machine.
He had half the mind to completely destroy it beyond repair.
To tear everything down to pieces after he had lost his longest business partner.
But Kitty and Proxy was the only things left that Vox made with his two very own hands.
To have them repaired by someone else other than Vox…..
Well, while Vox may still be the same despite how much he changed…
The same could not be said about the robots he made.
It wouldn't be the same.
When metal and wires could easily be replaced but the soul cannot.
It wouldn't be the same.
Still, he couldn't stop himself as he shattered the screen that showcased it buffering instead of the exasperated but still fond sneer he had gotten used to.
Velvette was absolutely devastated and livid when she found out about Vox's replacement.
She screamed at Valentino, asking him what the fuck he was even thinking and HOW THE FUCK DID HE EVEN ACQUIRE SUCH A THING
Vox never told her about the Proxy and while Velvette could care less about the roofies she makes and the Fizzibot Val has and every worse thing she's done under existence, she couldn't fathom replacing Vox with a mere husk of a pathetic disgusting thing.
She only stopped her shouting when Valentino quietly said it was Vox's idea.
And they both promised that they'll kill whoever decided to hurt the Vees and avenge Vox.
For now it was something both of them could focus on, even if it was a lie.
Valentino will hunt them down no matter what other people may say.
When Alastor saw Vox alive and well after the dead silence in their shared frequency, he first thought it must be a bad dream.
But he knows it was real.
That it happened.
After the confusing feelings he felt upon seeing that familiar face alive and well passed by, anger gripped his soul.
He had half the mind to ruin and destroy that pretender.
Vox was well and truly gone and it'll stay that way if Alastor could help it.
But when he realized what truly happened, he could only laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh at the situation.
And when he calmed down, he deigned to not interact even further at what happened.
Except for mocking the remaining Vees at what had happened to make himself feel better.
#may asher writes#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel valentino#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel velvette#hazbin hotel vees#staticmoth#voxval#radiostatic#angst#The Proxy AU#Hollowed Proxy AU#I know some people are curious about a more sentient robot route and it's definitely something I'm interested to explore too#but I'll expand on the more simplistic emotionless robot route for now#there's definitely a bunch of details I'm omitting and vaguing about here that I might expand on later on :p#but this is the gist of the au for now ^w^
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Tony can't handle his emotions properly and his love for Peter ends up pushing him away.
Peter gets severely injured on patrol and hides it from Tony, but Karen overrides his command and informs Friday/Tony that Peter is in danger.
Tony flies out and saves Peter's life, but once Peter is in the tower safe and coherent Tony starts yelling at him, furious and upset; Peter doesn't even get a chance to thank him before he's bombarded with the scathing tone, turning him defensive.
Tony's anger comes from a place of fear of losing Peter. Tony wasn't allowed to show fear growing up; in front of his father, Obadian, the press, Stark Industries shareholders... and later on it kept him safe in front of his captors, his enemies. Tony was taught with anger, and doesn't know how to express the softness inside him any other way.
His misconstruction of the protectiveness he feels only makes Peter more upset.
"This is why I didn't wanna tell you, you'd just get mad again! Maybe I should just get rid of this stupid suit if you're just gonna keep spying on me all the time."
"You would have been DEAD if Karen wasn't smart enough to override your commands, you would have been dead without me or that suit!"
"I would have figured it out, I always figure it out. I don't wanna depend on you constantly! All I do is bother you, and make you upset. I'm sick of being a chore, like I'm some stupid kid who needs rescuing all the time. When I didn't have you I was fine!"
Tony scoffs, "when you didn't have me you were playing pretend in pajamas. This is why you need training wheels, hell you probably need adult supervision. You're lucky I even let you go out-"
"You're not my dad!"
Tony pauses. He stares at Peter, who's chest pumps furiously from his heavy breathing, a hand holding his side where his bullet wound resides.
The sight of bandages on Peter's young frame makes Tony dizzy. He's reminded once again how close he was to losing Peter today, how much thread would have been cut short from the spindle of his life. He looks so small in the hospital bed, almost frail despite his enhanced muscular body.
His cheeks are stained red from anger. He's pale, too pale, a sheen of sweat on the frowning wrinkles of upset brows.
Bed rest, relaxed environment, taking it easy.
Tony feels sick.
"I can't be here right now," he tells the boy without making eye contact, turning and leaving the room.
The automatic glass doors slide shut behind him with a woosh. He stands still for a second to catch his own breath. What is he thinking, acting like the kid's parent? He's right, he can do whatever he wants. Tony can't ground him, has no right to control him. This isn't his problem.
Tony takes his phone out to inform Peter's Aunt May of what happened and to tell Happy to pick her up. The doctor said Peter needed to stay here for at least a few hours, even with his enhanced healing.
Bed rest, relaxed environment, taking it easy.
Tony glances up through the glass for a moment.
Peter is lying back down, one hand still resting on his wound as if he's holding himself together, the other gripping his own arm with a furious handprint. If he could he'd probably be crossing his arms while huffing and puffing, petulant in his solitude.
His free hand suddenly moves to his face, the back wiping across his eyes and cheeks before his palm brushes up the underside of his nose. His shoulders shake with a sniffle and his hand comes back glistening in the sterile lighting.
He's crying.
Anger bubbles up in Tony again, familiar yet now aimed inwards. If any other person had hurt Peter Tony wouldn't hesitate to tear them a new one.
Maybe that's the problem.
Tony refuses to go back into that room. Not when he does that to Peter, not when his wrath is still bubbling under his skin, cracking the delicate glass that bridges his relationships.
So he leaves Peter alone, and thinks - maybe this is better for both of them.
#irondad and spiderson#peter parker#tony stark#marvel mcu#irondad#spider man#iron man#peter parker angst#spiderman
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