#and falling in love in multiple realities

[youremyheaven]

Jupiter & Rahu Influence Among Popstars

When I look at pop-stars across industries, I have noticed them all often having the same planetary influence showing up one way or another (usually nakshatra's ruling planet but less often, rashi lord as well).

Now, lets look at what or who a "pop-star" is. The simplest definition is that "a pop-star is a highly successful singer of pop music". Some would say that being a pop-star is the pinnacle of fame. They are at the very top of the entertainment industry food chain.

Actors pretend to be other people for a living but a pop-star is one who has to pretend to be an exaggerated version of themselves for a living. Most pop-stars have an alter ego or stage persona that they project, sometimes these alter egos have different names, other times they don't.

If you think about it, being exalted to the status of a superstar, akin to a God or deity and being adored, worshipped and obsessed over by millions of people, for being "you" is a bit bizarre in itself. Actors spend months making movies and playing a character, someone singing and dancing on stage and "being" themselves sounds simpler even though, in truth, it is a much harder job. If your full time job was being an exaggerated version of you, you'd struggle immensely with your sense of self. Most people would have some kind of breakdown, being unable to distinguish between what is "really" them and what belongs to the persona.

I'm by no means suggesting that Jupiter influenced people are exempt from having an identity crisis. In fact, I would say its the opposite. I think due to the expansive and boundless nature of Jupiter, which has a tendency to exaggerate the effects of whatever it touches, most Jupiter natives kind of permanently live in a state of "in-between-ness" , this feeling of being stuck in limbo is reflected in how each Jupiter ruled nakshatra falls between two rashis, one air and another water.

Punarvasu- Gemini & Cancer

Vishaka- Libra & Scorpio

Purvabhadrapada- Aquarius & Pisces

These 2 elements are very different from one another, Air element is typically associated with the intellect and ideas, whereas the Water element is associated with emotions, spirituality, wisdom etc. So, Jupiter, the planet of luck and abundance, the "Guru" (teacher) is one that is "well rounded" in the sense that it is both practical as well as spiritual and emotional. This also insinuates that, in order to amass abundance and be fortunate in life, one has to have a mixture of opposite qualities and be "well rounded". Duality is an innate theme of Jupiter, and whilst many think of duality as having opposite qualities, its wiser to think of Jupiter as the union of opposites. Light and dark, good and evil, feminine and masculine, peace and violence, love and hatred, all co-exist together here. Due to the scholarly "Guru" nature of Jupiter, it becomes the duty of its native to rise above the lower manifestations of these energies and embody the principled nature of it. In this sense, its not just the "meeting" of good and evil but the triumph of good over evil.

I had already explored in a previous post about how having an alter ego/multiple identities is kind of a Jupiter thing. Most Jupiter influenced individuals majorly struggle with their identity simply because they feel like they're "all things" and this sort of commercial marketing of "aesthetics" and "niches" is very limiting. They're all things, all at once. This can be disorienting for others who struggle with their identity for other reasons (Nodals who struggle with over-attachment and detachment, Malefic gworls who don't have very many hobbies/interests/passions to base their personality off of). Its hard to explain what "being everything" is like to people who don't have a sense of self/reality to begin with, or those who have a very narrow or rigid understanding of themselves. We're familiar with Rahu mania but Jupiter mania often flies under the radar because they seem so put together on the outside, unlike Rahuvians who wear their madness on their sleeve.

Most people would have a tough time figuring out how a Jupiter native actually felt or if they were going through something in their personal life because they're usually stoic af and very well kept. Their world could be falling apart but they will never lose their etiquette or their manners. This can lead to scenarios where they're either not given adequate consideration for their suffering because they dont "look/seem" like they're going through it OR people tear them apart for seeming too "cold/nonchalant" even in the face of crisis. People like to see vulnerability because it makes others more humane and relatable and sometimes the stoicism of Jupiter natives can irk others because it makes them seem robotic or beyond human.

How does all of this tie into Jupiter being the most common planetary influence among pop-stars?

I had already mentioned that pop-stars are idolized for simply existing. Having the expansive energy of Jupiter helps one become a vessel for the projections of others. You can be anything or anyone to everyone. I have observed Jupiter influenced individuals code switching irl, in the sense that they have an entirely different personality depending on who they're interacting with and usually have several different friend groups that have nothing remotely in common with each other.

Many anons have mentioned dating Jupiter men who seem very sweet and giving and then being mindblown when they turn out to be insane party animals who smoke and drink till they drop and go batshit insane at the club. They seem too "goody two shoes"-y to be about that life, yet they are.

Being a performer/pop-star seems to suit Jupiter natives because it gives them an outlet to channel their manyyyy sides. Even their alter egos have alter egos and if they had to live normal lives, it would kinda drive them crazy unless they found some phenomenal ways to compartmentalize all that stuff. Not to rely on anecdotal evidence (I'll cite more "celebrity" examples after this) but there's a guy I know whose chart is heavily Jupiter influenced and he is the most responsible family man ever and provides for his whole family but he is also extremely passionate about weed, does not say no to a drink and LOVES to party. He lives in an apartment complex with a lot of people our age and mf is always at someone's house party 😭😭 I am in no way implying that these things CANNOT co-exist, that you can't both be a hardworking family guy who looks after everyone AND drown yourself in booze but typically the kind of person you associate with one kinda lifestyle is not who you associate with the other, if ykwim

There are many examples of these "contradictions"

Miley Cyrus, Vishaka Moon

She is known for her wild, freaky stage performances and her no-nonsense personality but beyond all that, Miley is a homebody who has a gazillion animals and lives a very "simple" (or simple, for a celebrity anyway) life.

Beyonce, Vishaka Moon

Beyond all her glamour, Bey is veryyyy lowkey and raises honeybees in her backyard and harvests her own honey. She's very spiritual and is all about her family and minding her own business. I know this isn't news to anyone but isn't it interesting how the biggest pop-star of our time, known for her fierce performances and larger than life persona, is actually a tradwife? A proper Southern lady, if you will.

Jennie, Vishaka Moon

In a recent interview, she said:

"Anyone who meets me will say I’m so far from what I represent as me onstage...it's a part of me , a switch inside of me that I can just click.”

(This is SOOO Jupiter coded of her)

Jennie's friend Deb Never described her as:

“She’s shy and really humble and very sweet,” she says. “And then as soon as it comes to music and how she performs, it’s this flip side, this opposite person where it’s like in your face and very outspoken. It’s not like she’s acting. It’s being able to let out a whole other side of you that you don’t get to in real life. There’s a vulnerability in that.”

I had mentioned a few times previously about how Jupiter and Rahu's energies can be veryyyy similar. Jupiter has more structure and can keep the mania and obsession under wraps a bit more than the average Rahuvian (Jupiter is a benefic, Rahu is a malefic, so the limitless energies are channelled in more "beneficial" ways by a Jupiterean and in less beneficial ways by a Rahuvian). Looking at the charts of entertainers who were/are highly successful, the Jupiter + Rahu influence recurring is crazyyyy.

Frank Sinatra is considered one of the earliest pop-stars. He is a Shatabhisha Moon.

Elvis Presley, Shatabhisha Moon

Aretha Franklin, Punarvasu Moon, Vishaka Rising

Billy Joel, Punarvasu Rising

Michael Jackson, Shatabhisha/Purvabhadrapada Moon

I am not trying to imply that people without Jupiter influence can't be pop-stars, they can!! But when they aren't Jupiter influenced, they're usually Nodal

Mariah Carey, Punarvasu Moon

Whitney Houston, Shatabhisha Rising

Celine Dion, Venus atmakaraka in Purvabhadrapada and Mercury amatyakaraka in Purvabhadrapada

Taylor Swift, Ardra Moon

Diana Ross, Vishaka Rising

Eric Clapton, Swati Moon

The shapeshifting ability of these natives is what allows them to flourish in an industry where you're essentially selling yourself as a product.

Adele, Ardra Rising

Lady Gaga, Swati Moon

Ariana Grande, Ardra Sun

Rihanna, Shatabhisha Sun

Dua Lipa, Ardra/Punarvasu Moon

Katy Perry, Swati Sun/Mercury/Rising and Vishaka Moon

Billie Eilish, Purvabhadrapada Rising

Shakira, Punarvasu Moon

Lana Del Rey, Ardra Sun, Vishaka Rising

Halsey, Punarvasu Moon & Mars, Vishaka stellium (Venus/Jup/Rahu) and Swati Mercury conjunct Rising

Janet Jackson, Ketu conjunct Rising in Vishaka

Lorde, Vishaka Sun & Mercury

Sabrina Carpenter, Purvabhadrapada Moon & Rising (she's also Bharani Sun and that's why she's an it girl)

Chappell Roan, Shatabhisha Sun/Jupiter/Ketu

Charli XcX- Ardra Rising

[the-girl-in-the-high-castle]

Like I’ve said multiple times, I almost never like the main characters in stories. I either just don’t really care about them or hate them. But there are those really rare ones that I don’t just like, but actually love. So, inspired by how incredible of a main character Maura Franklin is and how perfectly she was written and performed, and how I believe she would’ve been written and performed to the very end of whatever her journey was supposed to be, because I trust Bo and Jantje, I have to give a moment of silence and remembrance to other two lead female characters that I loved. They were so damn good, but they were terribly destroyed and butchered by the writers of the shows they carried and that is really fucking sad.

So, I’d like to pay my respects to Juliana Crain and Lucy Preston. You were amazing, I am so really sorry it didn’t end that way.

- A character that was described with “I got to know a woman who would bet on the best in us, who bet on people, no matter what the world said about who they were, who they should be..........You were the only chance any of us had.” All this referring to her humanity, to her hope in humanity in a world where such a thing barely existed. How she was the same in every alternate universe there was and how she always, no matter what world she lived in, fought for something better and never gave up on people. Guess what? All of this was burned in a dumpster fire that the writers set this show to become. She went full 180, started killing people at every step, forgot about everything she used to be. While before she was loyal to her boyfriend in spite of having feelings for another man, they made her hook up with everything male on two legs and then as a cherry on top, kill the man she loved, who saved her life multiple times before and she his. What happened to her in the final season, I don’t know, because that much of horseshit I could not take and never watched it (though, I have heard from people who did that Alexa did not even make an effort to act and that she was reduced to a side character, so thank you Alexa, you are the queen). But, in this show I loved to death, every single character was butchered, so I will forever cry about it all and never in a thousand lifetimes will I be over them.

- And then we have a woman who started insecure, doubting herself in everything she did in life, imagined herself always in her mother’s shadow. Slowly realizing she was wrong and starting to gain her confidence because she found herself in a situation where the fate of so many people and things depended on her and she carried so many things on her shoulders. They showed her and her strongest and at her weakest, all of it at once. She wasn’t some girlboss feminist, she was strong and she was weak, she was all at once, like a real proper character should be. A woman for other women to admire. The beloved historian. Guess what? They made her end up with a douche who treated her like shit, never chose her first, got their best friend killed because of his douche actions, boasted about having sex with another woman in front of her, and acted like a world class asshole when she turned to another man, who respected her even when he was her enemy, admired her and actually payed attention and was there for her when no one else was, The worst part, they tried to paint her as a feminist icon after this, with some cheesy men-hating lines. You deserved better Lucy. But in this house we like to pretend that idiotic two hour finale never existed. Thank you very much. 

[nihilismtrcit]

introducing...eden louise “edie lou” ferraro 

gen 1: aries for the another zodiac legacy challenge by @acuar-io

since childhood, seeking out attention was a constant in eden louise ferraro’s life. her parents didn’t engage with her, rarely made her feel wanted. so she became the type of person who would seek out any attention, positive or negative. she’s a needy girl with an almost pathological desire to be noticed. of course, her hot-headed temper and mean attitude (that especially rears its head when eden feels vulnerable) make it difficult to maintain friendships, let alone romantic relationships. 

after making the move from sandy oasis springs to the spice district of san myshuno, eden decided she’d get the attention she so desperately craved by any means necessary. now an internet personality with aspirations of becoming fabulously wealthy, eden louise - self nicknamed edie lou - spends her days: 

trying to turn her social media career into fortune

cuddling and dressing up her bby chihuahua, clover (bites)

gaming, streaming, vlogging

keeping it tight to flex on social media 

seeking out validation in the form of romantic relationships and/or money

&& generally oscillating between being an overly attached lover and a messy gal ;)

[a-blip-of-billdip]

this isnt what i usually post on this blog but I'm already sick of all the memes and 'jokes'. I am almost certainly leaving the fandom for good now because of the book of bills release and NO it is not because billford's community has an influx of supporters.

So the worship and romanticization of asylums and other abusive practices for mental health have been steadily gaining traction in recent years, especially with the rise of tiktok's toxicity.

SO many people, especially younger people, regularly talk about how they want lobotomies or how women they don't like should be lobotomized. They get tattoos of lobotomy like it's some quirky fun thing and not one of the most horrific tortures someone can endure.

These same people, ESPECIALLY leftists, will look at anyone they disagree with or don't like and say "get institutionalized, loser" or "et therapy" and it's always in a mocking way. it's always in a policing way.

because these people know that mental wards strip everyone of their freedom and their bodily autonomy. they know these places arent for healing--theyre for silencing.

So the amount of people i see treating bill being institutionalized like a good thing---even the writers and alex himself?

Yeah. Im out ✌🏼

[todderwodders]

My durge and Gortash’s relationship is like. Two horrible little best friends who put an amazing amount of trust in each other despite their positions and generally horrible personalities making it more or less impossible. They’ve known each other carnally and robbed a few supposedly unrobable places. It ain’t true but it is love.

[kingspuppet]

Hmmmm. Kinda, sorta, really bummed to see confirmation that Goro is DLC in P5T. Not unexpected (because why would they actually give him anything) but still extremely disheartening. I genuinely can't tell if it's just because they actually don't give a shit about him or if it's because they know he's popular so thrusting him into DLC hell means more money for them, or perhaps it's some combination of both. But I'm just....really tired. Either way I'm a dumbass and will buy the game because I am genuinely curious and would like to experience it for myself. I'm also an even bigger dumbass because I will gladly beg for any crumbs they can give us of Goro (as long as they don't destroy his character). Still, I just feel really drained after the last few days since the leak happened. Between people taking advantage to come out of the woodwork and harass/hate on Goro to the people that enjoy him and the fact that Atlus constantly treats Goro as if he doesn't exist half the time I'm so damn exhausted.

[softquietsteadylove]

Hiii loved your Pokémon Thenamesh AU! Would you do a second part with the teddiursa fic? Would love to read will happen the next day :D

"Audino?"

"Just a checkup," Thena answered the Hearing pokemon, holding Teddiursa on the counter of the check in desk. She leaned forward to whisper, pressing his ears down against his head, "he might need a shot or two."

"Aud," she nodded, knowing why Thena had exercised the secrecy she did. "Audino?"

"He doesn't have a pokeball," Thena sighed, ruffling Teddiursa's fur to distract him from why she had pressed his ears closed. "Gil rescued him just yesterday morning."

The nurse pokemon nodded and held her hand(?) out for Thena to allow Teddiursa to be taken to the examination room, behind the swinging doors of the pokemon centre portion of the ranger headquarters.

"Teddi?"

"It's okay," she smiled down at the little bundle in her arms. She set him down on the cart about to be wheeled away. "Audino and Blissey will take wonderful care of you. It'll be over before you know it."

"Teddi?" he asked again, those massive eyes watering.

"It's okay," she repeated, letting her hand drift out of his paw as they started taking him out of the lobby. "I'll be right here waiting."

"Teddiursa!"

Thena tried to stand at the edge of the counter. They couldn't let trainers into the pokemon centre with their pokemon--everyone would do it if that were possible. And he would have to get used to check ups and examinations without her anyway. It was just a routine exam to make sure he was perfectly healthy.

"Teddi!"

Thena wrapped her arms around herself, desperately trying to shut out the little voice shouting 'Mama!' for her again and again. She heard the swinging doors open and rounded the corner, "wait!"

"Audino?" the pink pokemon leaned back to look at her.

"I-I'm sorry," Thena stuttered. She had never done anything like this before. She shuffled forward nervously, "I know the rules--I-I do. But...he's just a baby."

"Teddiursa!" the little cub wailed, holding his paws to his eyes.

"Perhaps I could just," Thena turned back to Audino, tears threatening to spring into her eyes as well, "hold him?--while you're doing your examination?"

"Aud..."

"I know I'm asking a lot of you," Thena leaned down, closer to Audino and close enough for Teddiursa to know she was there. "But please, just let me be with him."

The pokemon looked up at Thena's pleading face and then over to a passing Chansey. "Audino?"

"Chansey!" the other pokemon smiled at them. If Teddiursa was already in tears, perhaps having Thena there would soothe him enough to be examined.

Thena put a hand on his head, looking at Audino again, "please?"

The pokemon's ears fluttered as she considered her options, but - with crossed arms - she nodded. "Audino."

"Thank you--thank you, I really do appreciate your consideration," Thena beamed at her, scooping Teddiursa off the cart and holding him against her chest. She rubbed his back as he cried into her shoulder. "I'm sorry baby, I'm right here."

"Teddi," he acknowledged, as sad and miserable as it sounded.

"Audino," she waved Thena along, without the need for the cart, which Chansey happily took away with it down another hall.

Thena followed, happy to be as co-operative as possible considering the exception they were making for her and her little cub. "I promise I won't tell anyone you let us do this."

Audino smiled at her as it let her into the examination room, "Aud-Audino."

Thena let out a faint laugh as she sat on the examination table with Teddiursa on her lap. Gil really was everyone's favourite ranger, "mine too."

Audino held out her hands(?) for Teddiursa's. He looked up at Thena first, who nodded. "She's going to make sure you're all healthy."

"Teddiur," he mumbled up at her.

"I didn't make you eat that medicine for nothing," she smiled down at the little bear, tapping his nose.

"Audino?" Thena held Teddiursa up under his arms, letting the Hearing pokemon listen with its extraordinary ears. It tapped the screen attached to the bench, indicating Teddiursa's heart rate and blood pressure. "Aud!"

Thena smiled at the good news. She let the little cub pokemon curl up against her stomach again, "see? That wasn't so scary, was it?"

"Teddiursa."

Thena sighed; he had heard her say the word 'shot'. Not that he knew what it was, and she wasn't looking forward to explaining it to him. "Well, sweetie, it's this little...needle. And it hurts just a teeny-tiny bit."

"Teddi?!"

Thena nodded with the utmost reluctance, "yes, like a Beedrill sting--just a little."

Teddiursa took one look at her, taking in a deep breath to fill his tiny lungs.

"It's okay, it's okay," Thena rushed to comfort him, watching those little cheeks of his puff up with air as he prepared another round of tears. "I promise it's just for a second, and you can hold my hand the whole time."

Audino walked over, needle in hand and everything. She gestured to Teddiursa, explaining how it could squeeze Thena's hands with its paws so it could focus on that instead of the prick of the needle.

"See, honey?" Thena said softly, now feeling a little nervous herself. She held Teddiursa tighter against her, "Audino knows what she's doing. And Mama's right here."

"Ted," he grumbled, unfolding his arms only to squeeze her palm between his paws. "Ursa?"

"Here we go," Thena whispered. She watched his head turn away and his eyes squeeze shut. He squeezed her hand between his little paws with all his might, which made her feel a little better as she watched the needle poke into his scruff. "Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze."

"Audino!"

"Teddi?" he opened just one eye, peeking at the nurse and then up at Thena.

"That's it," she smiled down at him. His tears dispersed immediately, beaming up at her. Thena laughed, turning him over in her arm and tickling the fur on his tummy with her other hand, "who's my big brave bear? Is it you?"

"Teddiursa!" the little cub laughed as she tickled him.

"Audino?"

Thena barely noticed the soft knock on the door. She looked up as Audino cracked the door open faintly and then looked back at her. "What is it?"

"Aud?"

"Gil?" Thena blinked and straightened up, although her hand continued to rub under Teddiursa's chin. "He can come in."

With the patients' consent, Audino stepped aside and welcomed him in.

"Hey, you two," Gil smiled as he walked over to them. His hat was already in his hand, and Thena enjoyed the opportunity to see his hair free and uncovered. He sat down on the examination bench next to her. "How'd he do?"

"Terrified," she answered softly and honestly. She pulled Teddiursa up to her shoulder reflexively, "but we got through."

"Aw, I bet he did," Gil said encouragingly, leaning so Teddiursa could meet his eye. "Were you good for Mama?"

"Ursa!"

"Hey, buddy," Gil greeted the little bear, reaching over to liberally ruffle the fur between his ears.

Thena blinked, eyes shifting between the two of them. Gil hadn't reacted to being called 'Papa' at all. Maybe he'd even expected it. But then why did she feel so...weird? It wasn't bad, but it was certainly...different.

"Aud?"

Thena bristled, looking over at the nursing pokemon who had very obviously heard her heart double in speed within her chest (even from the second Gil entered the room, let alone the whole 'Papa' thing). Her cheeks turned a similar shade of pink to the Hearing pokemon herself. "I'm fine."

Gil tilted his head, trying to figure out what Thena and the nurse were talking about, "hm?"

"Nothing!" Thena was quick to deny, tilting her head to keep him from seeing Audino's little smirk. She loosened her arms, letting Teddiursa move to Gil's shoulder in greeting. "He's obviously glad to see you."

"Hey, it's an improvement," he chuckled, happily letting Teddiursa recount to him what a brave bear he'd been during his very scary doctor's appointment. Gil patted his head. "I'm on my break--you two eat yet?"

Thena smiled, rising to stand with him, "I think some food would be good for both of us."

Gil let her take Teddiursa back, cradling him against her with his big head and even bigger ear nestled against her shoulder and under her chin. "Shall we?"

Audino waved to them, letting Thena out with Teddiursa first. She tapped Ranger Gilgamesh on his arm, complimenting him on his lovely family.

"Oh, uh," he smiled down at her, blushing as he slipped his hat back on, "yeah. I'm a lucky guy."

[imaginedisish]

Liquid Smooth (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Started writing this last night...sooo happy you guys wanted a sex pollen fic! Hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! This one is (obviously) inspired by "Liquid Smooth," by Mitski. ENJOY!

Summary: A simple mission deep in a forest alone with Logan quickly gets out of hand when you just have to go and pick a flower...

Warnings: 18+ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MINORS DNI! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Sex Pollen (so dub!con just to be safe, but not really), Multiple orgasms, Porn Without Plot...literally, implied!age gap, cursing, friends to lovers, fem!reader/afab!reader, probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 3,797 muahaha

“I don’t need a goddamn babysitter,” you murmur as Logan thumbs through the controls of the X-Jet. “Could’ve done this by myself.” 

Logan scoffs. “I’m not your babysitter, princess.” You roll your eyes at the nickname Logan has specially reserved just for you. “Charles said we’d be safer going together. He knows you can handle yourself.”

The X-Jet cruises effortlessly through the clouds. The air is still today. Calm. You and Logan are on your way to get some sort of flower that Charles claims to have extensive healing properties. It’s an easy mission. No fighting. No violence. You’re unlikely to have to use your powers at all. And yet, you’ve been paired with Logan. 

It wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t—admittedly—a little into him. Or rather, pining after him. There’s just something about the sarcasm that’s always thick in his voice; the way he squeezes himself into those thin beaters. How he’s always so self-assured, so thoroughly convinced he’s right. You just can’t help it. You want him. But he isn’t yours, and he probably never will be. He’s a little older—well, a lot, considering he’s been around forever. And you know it’s safer not to make attachments—not to fall in love.

Unfortunately, it’s a little too late for that. 

But having him here with you now, alone, with no buffers…it’s overwhelming. You can smell him—that mix of tobacco and pine and musk and him. He’s suddenly everywhere, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You watch as his long fingers press different buttons, his hands gripping the steering wheel, adjusting thrusters. You stare at those fingers for far too long, your thoughts drifting to what else he can do with them. You think about him curling them deep inside you, stretching you open and—

“Everything okay?” You snap your head to face Logan, swallowing harshly as his voice pulls you back to reality. 

You force a smile, nodding. “Yep!” You say, overcompensating just a bit. “All good,” you lie. You close your eyes, trying to push thoughts of Logan out of your head, denying the heat growing between your legs.

“Good, because we’re almost there,” Logan says, the X-Jet descending carefully. You look out the window to see the trees below. There’s a lake in the distance, but that’s it. No civilization, no houses—no one. It’s empty, peaceful. 

“We’re really in the middle of nowhere, huh?” You say, glancing at Logan. 

His eyes meet yours and he smiles. Warmth blooms in your heart at the sight. “My kind of place,” he says back. The X-Jet descends further as you approach a clear spread of grass to land on just ahead. 

This is, in fact, not your kind of place. The humidity creeps up your back and settles under your skin. The forest is overgrown and impossible to navigate. You let Logan slice through the plant life with his claws, swiping back and forth whenever something gets in your way.

You haven’t been walking for long, but you’re already done. Perhaps Charles was right; a partner is not the worst idea on a mission like this. 

You can see the flower just ahead—yellow petals and a long, green, viny stem. It glows brightly even under the dense forest canopy. “Semper in tenebris lux,” Charles had said; there is always light in darkness. And he was right. The flower illuminates everything in its path. Next to it, you can see a pretty, lavender-colored flower. You stop in your tracks, letting Logan wander ahead as you crouch down to stroke the purple petals. 

“Charles didn’t say anything about not taking other flowers too, right?” You call out, watching as Logan swipes carefully at the stem of the yellow flower. He holds the dainty stem in his large hands as he walks back over to you. 

“No, he didn’t. But you should be careful. It could be poisonous or—”

You ignore Logan, picking the flower anyway. You hold it up to your nose and breathe in. It’s sweet and fragrant. You twist the stem and realize the flower is sticky with sap and pollen. Your twist shakes some of the pollen up, and it lands all over your face. 

“Shit,” you mutter, wiping it away. A gust of wind sweeps through the forest, knocking the flower out of your hand and spreading more of its pollen in the air. You can feel it in your nostrils, getting caught in your throat.

Logan furrows his brows as the pollen falls to the ground. “What the fuck did you do?”

You roll your eyes. “All I did was pick a flower!” You lift your hands, feigning innocence. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You stand up, glancing once at the yellow flower in Logan’s hands and then back at Logan. “It’s pretty.”

He parts his lips, his stare focused on you. “Yeah, it is.” There’s something else in that stare, in those words. Like maybe he isn’t only talking about the flower. You shove those thoughts down as you turn around and walk back to the jet.

Your steps are suddenly very heavy. You scratch at your shoulder. Heat blooms in your chest, your stomach, across your face. You’re irritated and overheated and itchy. Your breath grows heavier and rougher with every step. 

Logan notices immediately. He stops, grabbing your arm. You can’t control the way you lean into his touch, nor the way you’re craving more. “Hey,” he soothes, eyes searching your face. “Are you okay?” There’s a hint of panic in his voice. 

You swallow harshly, nodding. Your throat feels thick, your skin tight and oppressive. “’M’fine,” you mumble. 

“Quit lying. I can tell something’s wrong,” Logan demands. You open your mouth to persuade him otherwise, but he doesn’t give you the chance, his grip tightening around your arm. “Your skin is on fucking fire, princess. What did you do?” He cocks his head, sniffing as he furrows his brows. His voice is darker now, slower as his eyes widen. “What the fuck did you do?”

You take in a sharp breath. And that’s when you feel it, the ache between your thighs, the slick arousal soaking through your panties. The realization smacks you in the face. For a moment, you’re clear-headed, but still terrified. The pollen. That goddamn, fucking pollen. “Logan, look, I think that purple flower had some—"

He cuts you off as he yanks your arm, tugging you towards the ship. “We need to get you back to the jet, okay?”

“Oh, I am so fucked,” you cry. You know you only have a few seconds left before the effects really kick in. “L-Logan,” you stutter, almost moaning as your core burns stronger with need. “T-the pollen was everywhere. What if you got some too?” 

He ignores you, handing you the yellow flower you came here for in the first place. He sweeps one hand under your legs and keeps the other at your back as he lifts you in his arms—bridal style. You can feel his heart beating in his chest. You lean into him again, searching for relief. Wetness pools between your legs. You have never felt this needy before. Your desire hurts, burns, scorches you. You rut your hips, clenching down around nothing. 

“S-stop doing that,” Logan spits, restrained and quiet. 

“C-can’t,” you whine. “It hurts, Logan. It hurts so fucking bad. How come you aren’t like this too?”

He pulls you tighter to his chest. “I feel a little something, but that might just…”

You tilt your head up to look at him. He works his jaw, that perfect jaw. You want to bite it, to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Might just be what?” You ask, tentatively brushing your lips against the hollow of his throat. 

“Nothing, just—fuck,” he groans as you press soft, open-mouthed kisses all around his neck now. “Don’t do that, princess. You don’t want this.”

“But I do, Logan,” you beg. The ramp to the jet lowers as you and Logan approach. “N-need you.” You bury your face into his shoulder, breathing him in. “Need y-you all the time.” The confession slips easily from your lips. 

Logan’s eyes widen as he walks up the ramp and into the ship. It lifts and seals shut behind him. “You don’t mean that, sweetheart. Let’s just get you back to the mansion as quickly as possible, yeah?”

He places you down on the seat next to him, taking the flower from your hands and putting it in the jar Charles had given you. The leather cold at your back almost feels good, almost relieving—until you realize Logan is no longer holding you, touching you. You reach out towards him, grabbing his arms, pulling him back in. “Don’t go,” you plead, nails digging into his biceps. Your body is on fire. Everything is unbearably painful. “Please,” you whimper. “Need you so fucking bad, just you.” 

“Fuck,” Logan curses. “I am not taking advantage of you. I am not doing this.” He stands, freeing himself from your grasp and walking over to the pilot’s chair. “I’m getting you back to the mansion and we’re going to fix this, okay?”

But that’s not good enough for you. You stand up and walk over to Logan. Your steps are shaky, your legs trembling. Your chest heaves, your heart beating rapidly. You climb into Logan’s lap, straddling him, one leg on either side. “Logan, I can’t fucking wait,” you cry, grinding down onto his lap. The pressure feels delicious.  He grabs your hips, stilling you, forcing you in place. And that’s when you feel it: his erection, hard underneath your core. “This isn’t you. You don’t really want this, don’t really want m—”

“It is me,” you protest, squirming against his hold. “Logan, I’ve wanted you for months. I-I was thinking about you t-touching me the whole way here.” You remember the way his fingers dexterously pushed all the right buttons. Need courses through you like a river, and as Logan’s hold on your hips softens, you grind down into his lap, against his erection. “S-so good,” you cry out. 

His hands are still on your hips, but now he’s guiding you, rocking you against his cock. “J-just this though, okay?” 

You hum, pressing your forehead to his, rolling your hips faster. The relief is like heaven. His arms wrap around your back, his fingers trailing up and down soothingly. Logan ruts into you, his erection straining against his jeans. You can feel yourself getting closer, but the pain, the need, it’s all still the same. 

“Logan, it’s not gonna be enough,” you whisper, his lips ghosting yours. “N-need more. Hurts so bad.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, like he’s scared to truly touch you. But he wants to consume your pain, to take it away, to feel it for you. You can see it written across his face, in the way his cock throbs against your swollen clit, how he snaps his hips into yours. 

“I know, princess,” he coos, his hands like fire on your back. Your walls contract around nothing, begging for something to hold onto, to feel something sink deep inside. “Gonna take care of you.” He kisses you again, with more vigor this time, more passion. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”

You moan into his mouth. His composure is slipping, disintegrating with every roll, every rock of your hips against his. His cock notches against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure up the base of your spine. He hikes your shirt up, the cold air hitting your overheated skin. “F-feels good,” you stammer. You’re almost there, almost hitting that peak. “S-so close.”

“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes. “Let go for me, know you can do it.” 

You moan his name, your orgasm crashing into you like a crescendo. You know you’re soaking through your clothes, and probably onto Logan’s too. He’s still rutting against you, giving you more. He knows it’s not going to be enough, and he’s right. Need builds back up just as quickly as you found your release. 

 “Lo…” you trail off, looking up at him under lust-filled eyes. You swallow harshly, squirming in his lap helplessly. “G-gotta have you.” 

He presses his forehead to yours. He works his jaw, parting his lips. “Y-you meant it when you said you wanted me before this?” But he already knows the answer. He knows you wouldn’t lie to him about that, not even now. 

“Yes,” you whine, pulling him closer. He tugs your shirt all the way over your head and picks you up, hands firmly gripping your ass. “Still gonna want you after this, too.”

He curses under his breath as he places you down in the pilot’s chair. He’s frenzied and frantic as he hooks his thumbs into your pants and panties, yanking them down your legs and casting them to the side. 

He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands, his thumbs brushing soft circles into your inner thighs. He’s kneeling, looking up at you. Your breath catches in your throat as his face settles between your legs. 

“Could smell you before, pretty girl,” he husks, his breath fanning over your clit. “Wanted this so fucking bad.” He doesn’t keep you waiting, licking a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit. “Knew you’d taste perfect. Pretty fucking pussy.” 

You throw your head back as his lips latch onto your clit, sucking harshly. He slips one hand across your back, keeping you close. His free hand climbs up your thigh, fingers exploring your folds as his tongue flits across your swollen bud. He spreads your arousal, prodding against your entrance before shoving two fingers deep inside you. “Logan!” You cry out, your walls clenching around him. He’s stretching you out, his fingers dragging inside you. He pulls out and plunges back in. He isn’t taking his time, isn’t teasing. He’s giving you what you need, pump after pump. 

You look down at him, his face buried in your cunt, consuming you, swallowing you whole like a starving man. He’s lost inside you, lapping at you with unwavering hunger and desire. His tongue swirls around your clit, his teeth grazing ever so slightly. You moan his name again, and he hums against you, the vibrations of his bassy voice rocking through your body. He’s wrecking you, but it feels so goddamn good. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he goads you along. He’s adding a third finger now, and you suck him in. You’d take anything he gives you, anything at all. “Doing so good for me, taking it so well.” 

He sucks roughly, your walls clenching around him at the feeling. “Yeah?” He grunts, sucking again. “You like that? Feels good?” 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, stumbling over that one simple word. “S-so fucking good.” 

“I know, beautiful,” he groans, nipping at your clit in between his rough sucks. “Gonna make that hurt go away, okay?” His voice is like honey, sugar; it’s sweet, addictive. “You just gotta come for me again, can you do that?” His tongue strokes your clit, his fingers pumping faster now. 

You nod your head emphatically, pleasure surging as you near your peak. “Yeah, I-I can,” you huff. 

Logan smiles against your cunt between rough laps. “I know you can, sweetheart.” His fingers scissor inside you, deeper than before. He takes your clit between his lips again, sucking hard. 

And that’s all it takes—you’re screaming his name, coming undone, unraveling underneath him. The release is even better than the first, more full, more complete. Logan thrusts in and out a few more times before slowly pulling his fingers from your cunt. He licks one more long stripe through your folds and looks up into your eyes. 

For a moment, the fire inside has been quenched. You feel clear, levelheaded. But it doesn’t last long. “Fuck,” you moan, your head hitting against the headrest of the chair. The fire is back, spreading across your stomach, your chest. “Logan,” you whimper. “I n-need more.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl,” he coos, taking you back up into his arms. He hoists you out of the seat, his hands finding your ass, squeezing softly. You wrap your legs around his waist as he carries you across the jet, setting you down on a storage container. 

You bring your hands up to his biceps. “Need you this time, Lo,” you choke, stroking up and down his arms as the heat builds painfully between your thighs. 

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes searching yours. 

“Always wanted you, always sure,” you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. 

His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Wanted you too,” he husks. “But I wanted it to be different, to—” You cut him off. “Just want you. It’s okay like this. I promise.” You grind against him, his erection still straining inside the denim of his jeans. 

He takes the hint, and quickly unbuckles his belt, casting the leather to the metal floor with a clunk. He’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, shoving them down his legs, and lining himself up with your entrance. You push your hips forward, giving him better access. His other hand pushes your bra above your breasts, exposing you completely to him. 

With one hand on his cock and one squeezing your tits gently, he thrusts himself into you. He’s so deep—down to the hilt—stretching you out and working you open. He groans, flicking your nipple with his thumb, his lips at the shell of your ear. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine, quenching that fire inside. “So warm, so tight.” He pulls out and plunges back in again, filling you up. 

“Lo,” you whine. “More.”

“I know,” he growls, his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out with every thrust. “Gonna take care of you, pretty girl.” He squeezes your tits once more before sliding his hand down your body and slipping between where the two of you connect. His fingers find your clit, drawing rough circles around the bud. “That feel good, beautiful?” 

“Y-yes, Logan, so fucking good,” you cry out as he rocks into you. His other hand grips your hip tightly, holding you in place. You hope there’s a bruise there later—proof that he touched you, proof that he fucked into you like the world was ending. 

His cock rubs against your walls, your muscles contracting around him, sucking him in deeper. “Squeezing me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans. He’s taking all of you, hard and fast. You can feel him twitching inside you, throbbing with the same need you feel pulsing through your veins. 

Logan kisses your jaw, and then just underneath, biting down on your pulse point. You arch your back, your chest meeting his. The contact is delicious, the friction a necessity. He thrusts into you faster now, doing his all to satiate your every need. He’s getting you there, pump after pump, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time. 

It’s working. You can feel yourself slipping again, melting. “Logan,” you hum, too fucked out to say anything other than his name. That beautiful name, like a song in the air, a gentle prayer, a holy ghost. He’s all you need—all you’ve ever needed. 

Your walls contract, squeezing him tightly. “Fuck,” he mutters. You know he’s close too. He strokes your clit, circling roughly. “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it, let me get you there again.” 

“Lo,” you cry, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he fucks into you, rutting his hips, plunging deeper still. It’s all too much. You can feel the pleasure drumming inside you, coming to a head. 

Logan loosens his grip on your hip and slides his hand behind your back, pulling you into his chest. You rest your forehead against his. “Come on my cock, princess, let go.” And you do. You’d do anything for him. You moan as your orgasm tears through you. It’s all blinding white heat, liquid smooth, pleasure wracking your body. 

Logan curses under his breath, close behind. He pulses inside you once, and then he’s coming undone. Your arms wrap around his back, keeping him close, letting him know it’s okay to finish inside. He fills you up, whispering praises in your ear as you both come down from your high. Such a good fucking girl. Did so good for me. So fucking good. Perfect little pussy.

He’s still inside you, pumping slowly as you ride out your orgasm. His fingers let go of your clit, his hands running up your back and tugging you closer to him. He slowly pulls out, keeping you tight against his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He whispers against the shell of your ear. You take a deep breath, waiting for the heat to build again, waiting for that need to surge every cell of your being. But there’s nothing. Your nerves are suddenly quiet—silent. 

“I-I think it’s over,” you stutter, still nervous that maybe it’s not. He keeps you there, holding you tightly, ready to start again if necessary. 

After a few minutes, you let yourself relax. It’s not coming back. It’s over. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to the side of your head. “I’ve still got you. Not going anywhere.” Your heart rate has finally slowed down. The heat is gone. You feel comfortable in your skin again. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into Logan’s chest. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, princess,” Logan reassures, his voice gentle and soft. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You nod against him, but you still feel a sting in your heart. You need to make him know that you meant what you said—need him to know exactly how you feel. You swallow nervously, ready to bite the bullet. 

“Logan,” you breathe. “I-I meant everything I said. It wasn’t just the pollen.” You pull yourself from his chest, looking up at him. “I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you…” you trail off. “S-still need you now. Nothing’s changed.” 

He smiles down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I know, darlin’,” he husks. “I wanted you before, and I still do, too.” 

“I know you wanted it to be different. I know it wasn’t—” But he cuts you off, his lips capturing yours, quieting your anxious rambles. “We’ll have other chances. Other times to do it the way I want.” He smirks, running his hands up and down your back. 

Other chances. Other times. More. More. More. “Yeah?” You ask. 

“Yeah, princess.”

tags: @wolviesgirl @dojacatswink @dilf420 @spiderset @pleasantlycrazyworld @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @y-ns-things

[currently-becoming-potatoes]

List of words for the computer:

LONG POST- more under the cut

STANFORD- Pulls up a file on Stanford Pines, written by an unknown scientist. It discusses his extra finger and praises his intelligence, as well as calling him the “next evolution in the human species”.

BILL CIPHER- Takes you to the Wikipedia page for the Eye of Providence. Also took me to a Sesame Street video about a Jazzy Triangle and a Square. Not sure what prompted the change.

STANLEY PINES: Takes you to a list of EBay listings for brass knuckles.

FIDDLEFORD: Takes you to the music video for Cotton Eye Joe by Rednex.

SHERMIE: Nothing. I sure do wish we got some lore about Grandpa Pines.

GRAVITY FALLS: The text on the computer reads “never heard of it” and the red light on the bottom turns green.

ALEX HIRSCH: Leads to Google Images for “flannel”. Huh.

WEIRDMAGEDDON: Pulls up an article from the Gravity Falls Gossiper about how nothing happened at all and there was no apocalypse.

DISNEY: Screen reads “rat.gif censored for your protection”

SOOS: Leads to a page of writing from Soos himself, referencing many things (including Tad Strange being gay and madly in love with Woodpecker Guy. Love wins!!!)

DIPPER: Leads to a creepy yellow parchment with a message from Bill Cipher himself trying to trick Dipper into blinding himself by staring at the sun for 13 hours straight! Silly! (Also if you keep clicking on it, the page gets darker and blurrier until it implies we've gone blind)

MABEL: Causes stickers to appear on every available surface. Clicking it enough times leads to message “lab now fully Mabelized”.

WENDY: Leads to a note from Wendy that mentions a way to ward off evil triangles written in the bottom corner of the book.

GIDEON: Makes a web recording of Gideon scatting play. It ends with “I love you forever Mabel”. Please shut the fuck up you little creep.

TAD STRANGE: Plays a video of bread with smooth jazz in the background.

TOBY DETERMINED: Leads to a Google search for a restraining order. Holyyyyy shittttttt

WHO ARE YOU: “I could ask you the same question”

SEASON 3: “Season Two”. I guess that’s that lol

This was about all I could find. Please reblog with anything else you can discover! Thank you, fellow Gravity Falls enjoyers!

And make sure to give some love to all the wonderful folks down in the comments! Many of these answers and tips come from what they've found. I can't list everyone, unfortunately- I didn't expect this post to get popular- but, to everyone who's helped out, THANK YOU.

FURTHER EDITS:

BLIND EYE: Pulls up an optometrist’s eye exam. Each line reads “WKHBOOVHH”. Too lazy to translate atm.

PIÑATA: Bill Cipher getting beaten to death /hj

MASON: A note from Dipper listing several anagrams of Gravity Falls characters’ names. You can check in the comments for the answers.

AXOLOTL: “You ask alotl questions”. Thanks for the pun, Alex, but I’m kind of losing my mind rn

MYSTERY SHACK: Leads to a Google search for Confusion Hill, the real-life Mystery Shack!

MYSTERY: “?”

MONSTER: Leads to several YouTube videos for “There’s a Monster at the End of this Book.”

VALLIS CINERIS: Leads to an analog-horror-esque video of Baby Bill and his parents, who have been blotted out by static, and a voice repeating “WHY DID YOU DO IT” over and over again until you stop the video.

PORTAL: “Portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build a new one.”

GIFFANY: You need to put it in multiple times. Several warnings about breaching firewall, followed by a message from GIFFANY saying “SOOS! I still love you!” or smth like that, and then GIFFANY herself briefly appearing onscreen. Trying again after that summons her more. Also lets you download some ZIP files.

DORITO: Summons an image of a spinning Dorito, followed by the most cursed image of Bill Cipher I have ever seen.

GOD: A short video of an axolotl in a tank with a Bill Cipher statue plays. This is Alex’s axolotl, shown in the Book of Bill countdown.

REALITY: “Is an illusion”

FILBRICK: “I’m not impressed”

CARYN: “I knew you were gonna write that”

GLASS SHARD BEACH: Leads to an image of the New Jersey Hell Hole.

ANY CUSS WORD: Pulls up a paper reading “NOT S&P APPROVED. WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP” with an image of soap below.

MATPAT: Leads to a video of MatPat next to a conspiracy board, holding the Book of Bill. He tells us we’re on our own.

BABBA: Plays an audio recording of Dipper singing BABBA. Not Disco Girl, a different song.

CRAZ: Leads to the Jem and the Holograms theme.

XYLER: See above.

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA: Shows us two new journal pages from Ford and Mabel, studying the Cipher statue. They’re definitely worth the read, I teared up looking at them.

ANSWER: “Question”

QUESTION: “Answer”

SEASON ONE: “Season -1: Antigravity Falls”

SEASON TWO: “Season 1” …maybe scratch what I said about Season 3. Or don’t. Things are starting to damage my brain.

CURSED (got from @slimslamflimflam decoding the candle! Thanks!): Shows two pages talking about the dangers of drawing triangles, with the bottom of the second page showing several drawings of Bill and the words “HE IS COMING, RUN”

THE UNIVERSE: “Hologram”

RIZZ: “Life privileges revoked. Now releasing poison gas.” This response is repeated if you type in SKIBIDI or FORTNITE.

BABY: Shows an ultrasound of a fetus Bill Cipher, captioned “Look at what’s growing inside you! See you in nine months, papa!”

JOURNAL 3: “The Journal for Me”

PACIFICA: Leads to a note from Pacifica calling Bill Cipher “ick” and telling us to follow her on social media under “Platinum Paz”

PLATINUM PAZ: Pulls up an image of Northwest Manor with the llama symbol overlaid and a “NW” logo beneath. There's also a short story beneath!

LOVE: Leads to an audiobook of “The Love Triangle”. Need to read later.

BLENDIN: “The time agent lost and presumed incompetent”. Uh…?

SCARY: Leads to another audiobook of a cheesy Goosebumps-esque horror novel written by Bill himself, apparently.

DIVORCE: Shows you the logo of the bar Bill went to after his fight with Ford… Billford bitter exes confirmed

ROBBIE: Leads to the cringiest messages ever. He’s such a failure I love him

CONSPIRACY: Leads to a video of a man losing his mind over the countdown counting up. I feel so seen. (I have been informed that his name is Charlie Day, he's an actor from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and that one meme, he had a quote on the back of the Book of Bill, thanks to everyone who explained that to me, I'm sorry, I'm uncultured)

RAT: “Thurburt’s number?”

BLANCHIN: Leads to a YouTube video on how to blanch vegetables.

TJ ECKLEBURG: “Never mention that name again.”

NOTHING: “Something”

SOMETHING: “Nothing”

BURNSIDE: “Burned inside.” Well… at least we know what happened…

WADDLES: Leads to the pig placement network!

THERAPRISM: Pulls up a sign from the theraprism regarding an emergency situation. The code reads "THE OLD ONE".

SHAPE: Pulls up an article on Plato, triangles, and Ancient Greece. This article is presumably written by Bill.

LLIB and BILL: THIS leads to the Sesame Street video every time.

WEIRD: Shows a video of a frightened Weird Al panicking about being trapped in a computer. Sorry, man...

CLONE: Pulls up an image of Paper Jam Dipper, a warning about not getting him too close to liquids, and an option to print.

TRIANGLE: ")" or "Tri harder."

THEYLLSEE: "Is seeing believing?"

DEER TEETH: "For you, kid!"

LIFE: "Life: 72% complete. Now loading: death."

DEATH: "Life's goth cousin."

PINES: "A good family tree."

OWL TROWEL: A slab of hieroglyphs, translating to an ancient ad for an owl trowel.

SCALENE: "Life form not found." EUCLID has the same outcome.

WELL WELL WELL BEING: Some assorted notes from Bill's Theraprism file. These include his greatest love and fear, his art therapy notes, and notes on his phobias. Three clicks is required to read them all.

BOO BERRY: Offers a poem on the meaning of life! Wow! I feel so enlightened!

LOVE YA BRO: Shows us a doodle from Stan of one of his and Ford's Sea Grunks adventures, and another code on the back. It translates to "Kings of New Jersey." I've been told it lets you download the code as a font.

SORRY: Reveals the repaired Backupsmore photo, with a note from Fiddleford about his and Ford's growing friendship. Fiddauthor fans, we are eating well tonight!

HORROR: Pulls up an image and report on The Always Garden, which is essentially a cheap Italian restaurant hidden in the backrooms.

HOLOGRAM: "Universe."

NAITSUAF: Pulls up a page that looks like it would be from the Book of Bill, in which Bill tries to convince us to sell us his soul. Clicking "ARE YOU READY?" pulls up a contract where we can sell our soul to Bill (with an alarming amount of coded fine print. Will need to translate later). You can print this document out, back out, or sign it right there on the web. Hitting "SIGN" causes the words "PLEASURE DOING BUSINESS WITH YOU!" to appear, and the document to close. In other words, I no longer have a soul.

IMSTILLONYOURMIND: Plays a recording of the ocean, with Stan faintly talking in the background. Poor Ford ain't quite over the divorce yet...

HOTXOLOTL: Pulls up a "MOST WANTED" doc on the henchmaniacs.

SEVENEYES: Pulls up a faded polaroid of The Oracle with text on the back that reads "LEAVE HIM. Escape to dimension *blurred out*. It's against the rules but it's the only reality where you'll be safe from him." The code at the bottom (once again decoded by the powerhouse that is @slimslamflimflam) reads "Set a course for Dimension: R34LITY." Is another Cipher Hunt in the makes? Only time will tell, hehehe.

JUST FIT IN: Plays an old commercial with a few moments of speech in the glitches at the end.

EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES: Shows a transcript from a therapy session at the Theraprism. Bill discusses his relationship with Ford and cuts off the session when someone brings up his parents.

NOT A PHASE: Shows a Google search for "black hair dye stained an entire bathroom."

PAPER IS BOOK SKIN: Instantly downloads a page of fleshy pink paper with the word "ENJOY" written on it!

SHAVE YOUR GRANDMA: Pulls up a few more pages about the human life cycle.

LIES: Pulls up an image of "The Game of Lies" board game, with a long stretch of text from (I assume) Bill, ending with "LIE UNTIL YOU ARE NOT LYING ANYMORE." Someone has some issues...

SAY BAAAA: Pulls up a neat little rhyme about being Bill Cipher's obedient flock of sheep. The code at the end translates to "Black Sheep."

ONE EYED KING: Plays a video of a hypnotist's spiral, with Bill proclaiming "YOU WANT TO PLEDGE YOUR SOUL TO BILL CIPHER" in the background. There is also morse code that translates to "NAITSUAF", leading to a previous discovery- the soul contract.

TANTRUM: Pulls up a transcript of a spat between Bill and Time Baby.

TITANS BLOOD: "HOOT HOOT! Password please!"

CURSE WITTEBANE: Pulls up an image of a Bill Cipher ouija board.

FORDTRAMARINE: Pulls up several rejected files from Ford trying to convince us Fordtramarine exists.

SUCK IT MERLIN: Pulls up a tapestry of Bill riding a unicorn. The code at the top reads "DAY MARE VS NIGHTMARE."

HEY NERD: Plays a commercial advertising things such as a Bill Cipher calendar, the Scrubba-Bill, a severed hand, and the entire Cygnus-XIII galaxy. Half of the image can be found in the Book of Bill.

DESTRUCTION IS THE FORM OF CREATION: Pulls up a frantic page of notes from post-portal-shit Fiddleford. A sticky note at the bottom has a code that reads "Unreality."

RUBBERHOSE: Plays "The World is Small Ever After for All."

IRREGULAR: Shows us Bill's mugshot in color. The code below reads "No prison or attention span can hold him."

UNREALITY: Offers a guide by Bill on how to become immortal.

GUN: "Oh yes oh yes oh yes they both."

ABUELITA: Leads to a video on vacuuming the walls.

YES: "What's McGucket's favorite soda?"

NO: "Your loss..."

REPEATEDLY CLICKING STAN: This stuff deserves a section of its own, away from the OG Stan stuff. It takes you through several Ebay listings on various Stan-ish items until you get to a page written by Bill about Stan's secret shames. "Ex-wives" further confirms our theory on Stan and Eda's relationship, as well as revealing many other bits of lore. "Fears" is somewhat goofy to be honest. "Secret Shames" reveals that Stan is a fanfiction writer and that his mother is the only member of his family who truly loves him outside of Ford and the kids. "Unreported Crimes" is somewhat goofy as well. "Failed Products" basically confirms that Stan is that world's Alex. "Lowest Moments" is genuinely depressing, and "Darkest Thought". Well. I'm not spoiling it lol. And the bit on "How He Beat Me" causes Bill to get more and more frantic/angry the more you click it! Comedy GOLD!

DIPPY FRESH: Leads to a Reddit post of the Burger King Kids Club.

MEOW: Leads to a TikTok of a man playing the Gravity Falls theme on that cap keyboard.

HELP ME: Pulls up another video of Alex's axolotl and the tiny statue. Rip Bill ig :/

R34LITY: Pulls up several photos of the henchmaniacs in live-action, captioned "They found a new home."

JOURNAL 1: "The journal of fun."

JOURNAL 2: "The journal for you."

FBI: "Your webcam is on. We are watching."

BURNED INSIDE: Shows an image of a charred Oregon Parks badge and nametag on the ground.

HECTORING: Plays a silly little country song!

OROBOROUS: Pulls up two journal pages about Fiddleford buying Ford an axolotl to keep him company, and Bill subsequently telling Ford to get rid of him. There's also some code on the first page that reads "CHONKY BOY." Ford, you wonderful dork.

[pucksandpower]

Unremembered

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: imagine looking the love of your life in their eyes and seeing a stranger stare back — but Max doesn’t have to imagine, not when this is his reality

Warnings: serious injury and memory loss

The roar of the V6 engine fills Max’s ears as he navigates the twists and turns of the Zandvoort circuit. It’s the first practice session of the Dutch Grand Prix weekend, and Max is in his element, pushing his Red Bull to its limits.

Suddenly, his race engineer’s voice crackles through the radio. “Max, box this lap. Come back to the garage.”

Max furrows his brow, confused. “What? Why? The car feels fine.”

“Max, just box now. It’s important,” GP insists, his tone unusually stern.

Reluctantly, Max steers his car into the pit lane, frustration building. As he pulls into the garage, he notices an unusual flurry of activity. His performance coach, Rupert, is waiting with a grim expression.

“Max, out of the car. Now,” Rupert says urgently.

Max climbs out, yanking off his helmet. “What’s going on? Why did you pull me in?”

Rupert takes a deep breath. “Max, I answered a call on your phone while you were out there. It was the hospital.”

Max’s heart skips a beat. “The hospital? What”

“It’s about Y/N,” Rupert says softly. “She was in a car accident on her way here. It’s ... it’s serious, Max. They’ve taken her to the trauma center.”

The world seems to tilt on its axis. Max grabs Rupert’s arm to steady himself. “What? No, that can’t ... is she okay?”

Rupert shakes his head. “I don’t know. They didn’t give me details. But they said you should come right away.”

Without another word, Max bolts towards the exit. Rupert calls after him, “I’ll drive you!”

The car ride to the hospital is a blur. Max stares out the window, his mind racing. “This can’t be happening,” he mutters. “We were just talking this morning. She was excited to watch practice ...”

Rupert glances at him sympathetically. “Try not to assume the worst. Y/N’s tough. She’ll pull through this.”

Max nods numbly, willing himself to believe it. They screech to a halt outside the emergency entrance, and Max is out of the car before Rupert can even put it in park.

At the reception desk, Max’s words tumble out in a panicked rush. “My girlfriend was brought in. Car accident. Y/N Y/L/N. Where is she?”

The nurse types rapidly. “She’s in surgery right now. If you’ll have a seat in the waiting area, the doctor will come speak with you as soon as possible.”

Max paces the waiting room like a caged animal, running his hands through his hair. Rupert tries to calm him, but Max barely hears him. After what feels like an eternity, a doctor approaches.

“Are you here for Y/N Y/L/N?”

Max nods frantically. “Yes, I’m her boyfriend. Is she okay?”

The doctor’s expression is grave. “She’s out of surgery now. The accident was very serious. She has multiple broken bones and internal injuries. We’ve stabilized her, but ...”

“But what?” Max demands, his voice cracking.

“She suffered a significant head injury. There’s swelling in her brain. We won’t know the full extent of the damage until she wakes up.”

Max sways on his feet. Rupert steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. “Can I see her?” Max asks weakly.

The doctor nods. “She’s in the ICU. I must warn you, she’s heavily sedated and on a ventilator. It may be distressing to see her like this.”

Max follows the doctor down sterile hallways, his heart pounding. When they reach Y/N’s room, he freezes in the doorway. The sight of her lying there, battered and bruised, hooked up to machines, is like a physical blow.

He approaches the bed slowly, tears welling in his eyes. “Y/N,” he whispers, gently taking her hand. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”

Hours pass. Max refuses to leave her side, holding her hand and talking to her softly. Nurses come and go. Rupert brings him coffee that goes cold, untouched.

As evening falls, Max notices her fingers twitch. He leans forward eagerly. “Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Her eyelids flutter, then slowly open. Max’s heart soars. “Y/N! Oh, thank God. You’re awake. How do you feel?”

But something’s wrong. Her eyes are unfocused, confused. She looks at Max blankly, then around the room in bewilderment.

“Where ... where am I?” She croaks, her voice hoarse from the ventilator tube that was recently removed.

“You’re in the hospital,” Max explains gently. “You were in an accident, but you’re going to be okay now.”

She frowns, struggling to process. “An accident? I don’t ... I don’t remember ...”

Max squeezes her hand reassuringly. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. I’m just so glad you’re awake.”

But she pulls her hand away, shrinking back slightly. Her eyes narrow as she studies his face. “I’m sorry, but ... who are you?”

***

Max’s world comes crashing down with those three simple words. He stares at you, his mouth agape, unable to process what he’s just heard. The room suddenly feels too small, too hot, too bright.

“Who ... who am I?” Max repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Max. Your boyfriend.”

You shake your head slowly, wincing at the movement. “I’m sorry, I don’t ... I don’t know you. I don’t remember having a boyfriend.”

Max’s heart shatters into a million pieces. He takes a step back, running a trembling hand through his hair. “Okay, okay,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “The doctor said there might be ... complications. This is just temporary. It has to be.”

You watch him warily, confusion and fear evident in your eyes. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why can’t I remember anything?”

Max takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needs to be strong for you, even if you don’t know who he is. “You were in a car accident,” he explains gently. “You hit your head pretty badly. The doctors said there might be some memory loss, but ... I didn’t think ...”

His voice trails off as he sees tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m scared,” you whisper. “I don’t remember the accident. I don’t remember coming here. I don’t even know what day it is.”

Max instinctively reaches out to comfort you, but stops himself, realizing his touch might not be welcome. “It’s okay to be scared,” he says softly. “But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, even if you don’t remember me right now.”

A nurse enters the room, breaking the tension. She smiles warmly at you. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

You turn to her, relief evident in your voice. “Everything hurts and I’m so confused. I can’t remember anything.”

The nurse nods sympathetically. “That’s not uncommon with head injuries. Try not to worry too much. Your memories may come back gradually as the swelling in your brain goes down.”

Max interjects, his voice tight with worry. “But she will remember, right? This isn’t ... permanent?”

The nurse’s expression turns cautious. “Every case is different. We’ll need to run some more tests now that she’s awake. The neurologist will be by soon to evaluate her.”

Max nods numbly, feeling like he’s trapped in a nightmare he can’t wake up from. The nurse checks your vitals and adjusts your medication before leaving the room.

An uncomfortable silence falls. You fidget with the edge of your blanket, avoiding Max’s gaze. “So ... we’re together?” You ask hesitantly.

Max nods, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, for almost two years now. We live together in Monaco.”

Your eyes widen. “Monaco? But I’m ... I’m not rich. At least, I don’t think I am.”

Despite everything, Max can’t help but chuckle. “No, but I am. I’m a Formula 1 driver. That’s why we were here in the Netherlands. It’s race weekend, and you were coming to watch me practice.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is so strange. It’s like you’re talking about someone else’s life. I can’t imagine dating a famous race car driver.”

Max’s heart clenches at your words. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through photos. “Here,” he says, holding it out to you. “Maybe these will help jog your memory.”

You take the phone hesitantly, swiping through picture after picture of the two of you together. At the beach, at fancy galas, cuddled up on the couch. In every photo, you both look blissfully happy.

“We look ... so in love,” you murmur, your brow furrowed in concentration.

“We are,” Max says softly. “Or at least, we were. I still am.”

You hand the phone back, your expression troubled. “I’m sorry. I wish I could remember. You seem like a really nice guy, and clearly we had something special, but ... it’s all blank.”

Max swallows hard, fighting back tears. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”

Just then, a doctor enters the room. “Ah, good to see you awake,” he says briskly. “I’m Dr. Smeets, the neurologist on your case. How are you feeling?”

You explain your symptoms and memory loss while the doctor makes notes. Max hovers anxiously in the background, hanging on every word.

“Well,” Dr. Smeets says finally, “the good news is that your physical injuries are progressing nicely. The memory loss is concerning, but not entirely unexpected given the trauma to your brain.”

“Will she get her memories back?” Max asks, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

The doctor’s expression is guarded. “It’s impossible to say for certain. Retrograde amnesia can be unpredictable. Sometimes memories return quickly, sometimes it takes months or even years. And in some cases ...”

“Some cases what?” Max presses.

Dr. Smeets sighs. “In some cases, the memories never fully return. But,” he adds quickly, seeing the stricken look on Max’s face, “that’s relatively rare. The best thing you can do is be patient. Surround her with familiar people and places. Sometimes sensory triggers can help unlock memories.”

Max nods, clinging to that small hope. “Thank you, doctor. What’s the next step?”

“We’ll keep her here for observation for a few more days, run some more tests. After that, assuming there are no complications, she can be discharged to recover at home.”

After the doctor leaves, Max turns to you with forced cheerfulness. “See? That’s good news. You’ll be out of here soon, and then we can go home and work on getting your memories back.”

You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Going ... home with you. I mean, you seem great, but you’re still a stranger to me.”

Max feels like he’s been punched in the gut, but he forces himself to nod. “Of course. I understand. We’ll figure something out. Maybe you can stay with your parents for a while?”

You nod, looking relieved. “That sounds better. I remember my parents, at least.”

An awkward silence falls. Max clears his throat. “Do you want me to call them?”

“Would you mind? I don’t even know where my phone is.”

Max steps out into the hallway to make the call, grateful for a moment to collect himself. When he returns, you’re looking out the window, lost in thought.

“They’re on their way,” Max says softly. “They’ll be here in a few hours.”

You turn to him, your expression softening slightly. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Max shrugs. “Of course I did. I care about you, even if you don’t remember that right now.”

You study him for a long moment. “Can you ... can you tell me about us? How we met, what our life is like? Maybe it’ll help bring something back.”

Max’s heart leaps at the request. He pulls a chair closer to your bed and begins to talk, recounting the story of your relationship. How you met at a charity event, how nervous he was to ask you out, your first date at a little Italian restaurant in Monaco.

As he speaks, you listen intently, searching your mind for any flicker of recognition. But the memories remain frustratingly out of reach, like trying to grasp smoke.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally, interrupting his story about your first vacation together. “None of this is ringing any bells. It all sounds wonderful, but ... it’s like you’re talking about someone else’s life.”

Max tries to hide his disappointment. “It’s okay. The doctor said it might take time. We just have to be patient.”

You nod, but your expression is troubled. “What if ... what if I never remember? What if these memories are just gone forever?”

Max takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Then we’ll make new ones,” he says firmly. “I love you, Y/N. That hasn’t changed. If I have to make you fall in love with me all over again, I will.”

You look at him, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “That’s ... that’s incredibly sweet. But what if I’m not the same person anymore? What if the me you fell in love with is gone?”

Max shakes his head vehemently. “That’s not possible. You’re still you, even if you can’t remember everything right now. The core of who you are, that hasn’t changed. I know it.”

You don’t look convinced, but you offer him a small smile. “I hope you’re right.”

Just then, a commotion in the hallway catches their attention. Your parents burst into the room, faces etched with worry.

“Oh, sweetheart!” Your mother cries, rushing to your bedside. “We were so worried!”

Your face lights up with recognition. “Mom! Dad!” You exclaim, reaching out to hug them.

Max steps back, giving your family space for their reunion. He watches with a mixture of relief and jealousy as you interact easily with your parents, the rapport between you unchanged by your memory loss.

After a few minutes, your father turns to Max. “Thank you for calling us, and for being here with her.”

Max nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Of course. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

Your mother looks between Max and you, sensing the tension. “Is everything okay?”

You bite your lip, looking uncomfortable. “Mom, I-I can’t remember Max. Or anything about our relationship. The doctor says I have amnesia from the accident.”

Your parents exchange worried glances. Your father puts a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, son. This must be incredibly difficult for you both.”

Max nods, not trusting himself to speak. Your mother turns to you. “But surely you remember something? You and Max have been so happy together.”

You shake your head sadly. “I’m trying, but it’s all blank. I’m sorry.”

An awkward silence falls over the room. Finally, your father clears his throat. “Well, the important thing is that you’re going to be okay. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”

Max nods in agreement, but inside, he’s screaming. How can he just stand by and watch as the love of his life slips away? But he knows he has to be patient, to give you space to heal and hopefully remember.

“I should probably go,” he says reluctantly. “Let you have some time with your family.”

You nod, looking relieved. “Thank you for staying with me. And for ... for everything.”

Max forces a smile. “Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that’s fine. Maybe ... maybe you can bring some more photos? Or videos? Something that might help trigger my memory?”

Max’s heart swells with hope. “Absolutely. I’ll bring everything I can think of.”

As he turns to leave, you call out softly. “Max?”

He turns back, his breath catching in his throat. “Yeah?”

You give him a small, uncertain smile. “I’m glad I have someone like you in my life. Even if I can’t remember it right now.”

Max blinks back tears as he nods. “Always,” he whispers. “I’m always here for you.”

***

Max trudges into his hotel suite, the weight of the day pressing down on him like a physical force. He closes the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. The room is dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions swirling inside him.

He fumbles for the light switch, wincing as the bright overhead lights flicker on. The suite feels cavernous and empty without you here. Your suitcase sits untouched in the corner, a painful reminder of the plans you’d made for this weekend.

Max’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, seeing a flood of missed calls and messages. His team, his family, the media — all clamoring for information, for his attention. He can’t deal with any of it right now.

With trembling hands, he switches off his phone and tosses it onto the bed. He paces the room, energy thrumming through his body with nowhere to go. He should shower, should eat something, should call his manager and figure out what to do about the race weekend. But he can’t bring himself to do any of it.

Instead, he finds himself drawn to your suitcase. He kneels beside it, running his hand over the familiar fabric. Slowly, almost reverently, he unzips it. Your neatly folded clothes, your favorite perfume, the book you’d been reading on the plane — all these little pieces of you, reminders of the life you shared.

Max pulls out one of your sweaters, burying his face in the soft material. It still smells like you. And suddenly, the dam breaks.

A sob tears from his throat, raw and primal. Tears he’s held back for years, through every hardship and setback, finally break free. Max crumples to the floor, clutching your sweater to his chest as he weeps.

“Why?” He chokes out between sobs. “Why her? Why us?”

The tears keep coming, relentless. Max cries for the pain you’re in, for the memories you’ve lost, for the future that suddenly seems so uncertain. He cries for the little boy who was left alone at a gas station, for the young man who walked away from a horrific crash. He cries for every emotion he’s ever pushed down, every vulnerability he’s hidden behind a mask of determination and focus.

Through his tears, he hears a knock at the door. He ignores it, unable to face anyone right now. But the knocking persists, followed by a familiar voice.

“Max? It’s me. Open up, mate.”

Max considers pretending he’s not here, but he knows Daniel won’t give up easily.bWiping his face on his sleeve, Max staggers to his feet and opens the door. Daniel takes one look at his tear-stained face and immediately pulls him into a tight hug.

“Oh, mate,” Daniel says softly. “I just heard. I’m so sorry.”

Max breaks down again, sobbing into Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel doesn’t say anything, just holds him tightly, letting him cry it out.

Finally, Max pulls away, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Daniel steers him towards the couch, closing the door behind them. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Max. You’re hurting. It’s okay to let it out.”

Max collapses onto the couch, feeling utterly drained. Daniel sits beside him, his usual joking demeanor replaced by genuine concern.

“Talk to me,” Daniel urges gently. “What happened?”

Max takes a shuddering breath. “She doesn’t remember me. She looked right at me and had no idea who I was. It’s like ... it’s like the last two years never happened for her.”

Daniel winces in sympathy. “That’s rough, mate. But the doctors think it’s temporary, right?”

Max shrugs helplessly. “They don’t know. It might come back, it might not. And even if it does, how long will it take? Weeks? Months? Years?”

“And you’re worried she won’t fall for you again,” Daniel says softly, understanding dawning on his face.

Max nods miserably. “What if she doesn’t? What if the girl I fell in love with is just ... gone? I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be around her when she doesn’t even know me.”

Daniel is quiet for a moment, considering. “You know,” he says finally, “when I first met Y/N, I thought you were crazy.”

Max looks up, confused. “What do you mean?”

Daniel grins. “Come on, mate. Mad Max settling down with a normal girl? I thought for sure it was just a phase, that you’d get bored and move on to the next model or whatever.”

Max bristles slightly. “Y/N’s not just some normal girl. She’s-”

“I know, I know,” Daniel interrupts, holding up his hands. “That’s my point. It didn’t take long for me to see how special she is, and how perfect you two are together. You bring out the best in each other. That connection, that spark — it’s still there, Max. Even if she can’t remember it right now.”

Max shakes his head. “You don’t understand. You didn’t see her in that hospital bed, looking at me like I was a total stranger. It was like ... like everything we had just disappeared in an instant.”

Daniel leans forward, his expression serious. “Listen to me. The memories might be gone for now, but the feelings? The connection you two have? That doesn’t just disappear. It’s still there, buried deep inside her. You just have to be patient and give her time to find it again.”

Max wants to believe him, but doubt gnaws at his heart. “What if she doesn’t want to? What if she decides she’s better off without me?”

Daniel scoffs. “Not a chance, mate. You’re Max fucking Verstappen. What girl wouldn’t want you?”

The joke falls flat. Max just stares at the floor, shoulders slumped. Daniel sighs, realizing humor isn’t the answer right now.

“Look,” he says softly, “I know you’re scared. But think about it this way — you’ve been given a chance to fall in love all over again. To experience all those firsts one more time. It’s not ideal, sure, but it’s not the end of the world either.”

Max looks up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You really think she could fall for me again?”

Daniel grins. “Are you kidding? She fell for you once when you were an arrogant little shit. Now that you’re slightly less of an arrogant little shit, it should be a piece of cake.”

Despite everything, Max finds himself chuckling. “Thanks, asshole.”

Daniel’s expression turns serious again. “I mean it, though. You can’t give up. Y/N needs you now more than ever, even if she doesn’t realize it. You have to be strong for her.”

Max nods slowly. “I know. I just ... I don’t know how to do this. How to be around her when she doesn’t know me. When she looks at me like I’m a stranger.”

Daniel considers this for a moment. “Maybe that’s your advantage. You get to introduce yourself to her all over again. Show her the Max that she fell in love with in the first place.”

Max mulls this over. “I guess ... I guess that could work. But what if I screw it up? What if I say or do the wrong thing and push her away?”

Daniel claps him on the shoulder. “That’s where your friends come in. We’ve got your back. Whatever you need, we’re here for you. Both of you.”

For the first time since the accident, Max feels a spark of genuine hope. “Thanks. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Daniel grins. “Probably crash and burn spectacularly. But that’s why we keep you around — you’re entertaining.”

Max rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now. “Seriously, though. How do I do this? How do I help her remember without overwhelming her?”

Daniel thinks for a moment. “Start small. Don’t dump your whole history on her at once. Share little stories, show her pictures. Let her get to know you again naturally. And most importantly, be patient. This isn’t a race you can win by pushing harder. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Max nods, feeling a sense of determination replacing his earlier despair. “You’re right. I can do this. I have to do this. For her.”

Daniel smiles, seeing the familiar fire returning to his friend’s eyes. “That’s the Max I know. Now, have you eaten anything? Because I’m starving, and room service is calling my name.”

Max realizes he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. “Food sounds good,” he admits.

As Daniel picks up the phone to order, Max’s thoughts turn to you. He imagines you in that hospital bed, scared and confused. He makes a silent promise to himself, and to you, that he’ll do whatever it takes to help you remember. And if you can’t remember, he’ll make new memories with you, ones just as beautiful as the ones you’ve lost.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of food, conversation, and planning. Daniel helps Max sort through the flood of messages on his phone, crafting responses to his team and family. They decide that Max will skip the rest of the race weekend — his mind isn’t in the right place to drive safely, and you need him more than the team does right now.

As the night wears on, Daniel eventually leaves, extracting a promise from Max to call if he needs anything. Left alone, Max finds himself drawn once again to your suitcase. This time, instead of breaking down, he begins to pack a bag.

Photos, mementos, little things that might spark a memory — he carefully selects items to bring to the hospital tomorrow. As he works, he talks to you in his mind, imagining what he’ll say when he sees you again.

“I know you’re scared,” he murmurs, folding one of your favorite hoodies. “I’m scared too. But we’re going to get through this together. I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

As he zips up the bag, Max feels a renewed sense of purpose. The road ahead won’t be easy, but he’s ready to face it. Because at the end of that road is you, and a love worth fighting for.

Max crawls into bed, exhausted but no longer despairing. As he drifts off to sleep, his last thought is of you. Of your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you look at him. He holds onto these memories, these precious fragments of your life together, knowing that somehow, someway, he’ll find a way to share them with you again.

Tomorrow is a new day, a new chance to help you remember. And Max Verstappen has never been one to back down from a challenge.

***

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon as Max makes his way through the quiet hospital corridors. His footsteps echo in the empty hallway, the bag slung over his shoulder feeling heavier with each step. Inside are the stuffed versions of Jimmy and Sassy, and your favorite hoodie —his hoodie, really, but you’ve claimed it as your own.

As he approaches your room, Max takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He knocks softly before entering, not wanting to startle you if you’re asleep.

You’re awake, sitting up in bed and staring out the window. When you turn to look at him, there’s a flicker of recognition in your eyes, but it’s followed quickly by confusion.

“Max, right?” You say hesitantly.

Max forces a smile, trying to hide the pain those words cause. “That’s right. How are you feeling this morning?”

You shrug, wincing slightly at the movement. “Sore. Confused. But the doctors say I’m healing well, physically at least.”

Max nods, moving closer to the bed. “That’s good. I, uh, I brought some things for you. I thought they might help make you more comfortable.”

You eye the bag curiously. “Oh? That’s ... that’s very kind of you.”

Max sets the bag on the bed and starts unpacking. First, he pulls out the stuffed cats. “These are Jimmy and Sassy,” he explains. “Well, stuffed versions of them. They’re our cats. You can’t travel without these because you miss the real ones so much.”

Your eyes light up as you reach for the stuffed animals. “We have cats? I love cats!”

Max chuckles, a warmth spreading through his chest at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, two Bengal cats. They’re like little troublemakers, always getting into mischief. You adore them.”

You hug the stuffed cats close, a small smile playing on your lips. “Tell me about them?”

Max sits in the chair beside your bed, grateful for the opening. “Well, Jimmy is the older one. He’s very dignified, or at least he tries to be. But he has a weakness for cardboard boxes. No matter how expensive a cat bed we buy him, he always prefers a random Amazon box.”

You giggle at that, and the sound is like music to Max’s ears. He continues, “Sassy is younger and true to her name. She’s always chattering away, meowing at us like she’s telling us about her day. And she has this thing for water —she’ll sit by the sink for hours, just watching the faucet drip.”

“They sound wonderful,” you say softly, stroking the stuffed cats’ fur. “I wish I could remember them.”

Max reaches into the bag again. “Maybe this will help,” he says, pulling out the hoodie. “This is your favorite thing to wear around the house. Well, my hoodie that you’ve completely taken over.”

You take the hoodie, running your hands over the soft fabric. You bring it to your face, inhaling deeply, and for a moment, Max’s heart soars with hope. But then you shake your head.

“It smells ... familiar,” you say slowly. “But I can’t place it. I’m sorry.”

Max tries to hide his disappointment. “It’s okay. Don’t push yourself. The doctors said it might take time.”

You nod, but he can see the frustration in your eyes. “It’s just so strange,” you murmur. “I know things, like I know I love cats, but I can’t remember our cats. I know this hoodie is important, but I can’t remember why.”

Max leans forward, his voice gentle. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. Give yourself time to heal.”

You look at him, really look at him, for the first time since he entered the room. “You’re being so patient with me. It must be hard for you, seeing me like this.”

Max swallows hard, fighting back tears. “It’s not easy,” he admits. “But you’re worth it. We’re worth it.”

A comfortable silence falls between you. You pull on the hoodie, snuggling into its warmth. “So,” you say after a while, “tell me more about us. How did we meet?”

Max’s face lights up at the question. “It was at a charity gala in Monaco,” he begins. “I was there representing the team and you were there with some friends. I saw you across the room and ... I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on your lips. “Oh really? Was it love at first sight?”

Max chuckles. “More like anxiety at first sight for me. I was so nervous to talk to you. I must have circled the room three times before I worked up the courage to approach you.”

“You? Nervous?” You say, sounding surprised. “But you’re a famous racing driver. Surely you’re used to talking to people.”

Max shrugs. “On the track, sure. But off it? Especially with beautiful women? I’m a disaster. But something about you ... I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try to talk to you.”

You lean back against your pillows, looking intrigued. “So what happened? Did you sweep me off my feet with your charm?”

Max bursts out laughing. “God, no. I was a complete mess. I walked up to you, tried to say something smooth, and ended up knocking over a tray of champagne glasses. Drenched myself and nearly you too.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh no! That sounds mortifying.”

“It was,” Max agrees. “I was ready to run away and hide forever. But then you did something amazing. Instead of being upset or embarrassed, you started laughing. Not at me, but with me. You helped me clean up, made a joke about how I was smoother on the track than off it, and then ... you asked me to dance.”

You smile at that. “I did? That was brave of me.”

Max nods, his eyes soft with the memory. “It was. You later told me you thought I was cute when I was flustered. We danced for hours that night, talking about everything and nothing. By the end of the evening, I knew I wanted to see you again.”

“And the rest is history?” You ask.

“Not quite,” Max says with a grin. “I still had to convince you to go on a proper date with me. And let me tell you, dating a Formula 1 driver isn’t always easy. But we made it work. We’ve been together for two years now, living in Monaco.”

You absorb this information, your brow furrowed in concentration. “It sounds like a fairytale,” you say softly. “I wish I could remember it.”

Max reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “You will,” he says firmly. “And if you don’t, we’ll make new memories. Even better ones.”

You squeeze his hand, offering a small smile. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Max says without hesitation. “Because I know you, Y/N. Even if you can’t remember right now, I know the person you are. Your kindness, your strength, your incredible spirit. That hasn’t changed. It’s still there, inside you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “I want to believe you,” you whisper. “But it’s so hard. Everything feels so ... disconnected. Like I’m living someone else’s life.”

Max moves to sit on the edge of the bed, still holding your hand. “I know it’s scary,” he says softly. “But you’re not alone in this. I’m here, your family’s here. We’ll help you through it, step by step.”

You nod, wiping away a stray tear. “Thank you. For being here, for bringing these things. It means a lot.”

Max smiles, his heart swelling with love for you. “Always. I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. No matter what.”

Just then, a nurse enters the room. “Good morning,” she says cheerfully. “How are we feeling today?”

You turn to her, still clutching the stuffed cats. “A bit better, I think. Max brought me some things from home.”

The nurse smiles approvingly. “That’s wonderful. Familiar objects can often help in recovery. Now, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to step out for a bit,” she says to Max. “We need to run some tests and change some dressings.”

Max nods, standing up reluctantly. “Of course. I’ll be back later, if that’s okay?” he asks, looking at you.

You nod, offering a small smile. “I’d like that. Maybe ... maybe you could bring some more things next time? Anything that might help jog my memory?”

Max’s heart leaps at the request. “Absolutely. I’ll bring whatever I can think of.”

As he turns to leave, you call out softly. “Max?”

He turns back, his breath catching in his throat. “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you say simply. “For not giving up on me.”

Max feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Never,” he says firmly. “I’ll never give up on you, Y/N. On us.”

As he walks out of the hospital into the bright morning sunshine, Max feels a renewed sense of hope. It won’t be easy, and the road ahead is still long and uncertain. But you’re still you, still the woman he fell in love with. And he’ll do whatever it takes to help you find your way back to him.

He pulls out his phone, sending a quick message to his team. He won’t be racing this weekend, or perhaps for a while. Some things are more important than Formula 1. Right now, his place is here, by your side, helping you piece together the memories of your life together.

***

The press room is buzzing with anticipation as Max takes his seat at the table. Cameras flash incessantly and the murmur of journalists speculating grows louder. Max’s face is a mask of calm, but inside, he’s a storm of emotions.

His manager, Raymond, leans in close before stepping away. “Remember, keep it brief. No details about Y/N unless absolutely necessary.”

Max nods curtly, his jaw clenched. The past few days have been a whirlwind of hospital visits, tense conversations with the team, and now this — facing the media to explain his decision to step away from racing.

The room falls silent as the press conference begins. A Red Bull spokesperson steps up to the microphone.

“Good afternoon, everyone. As you know, Max Verstappen has announced his decision to take a leave of absence from Formula 1 for an undetermined period. Max will now take your questions.”

The room erupts with raised hands and shouted questions. Max points to a familiar face in the front row.

“Max, can you explain the reasoning behind this sudden decision? You’re in the midst of a tight championship battle. Why step away now?”

Max takes a deep breath. “I understand this comes as a surprise to many. There are personal matters that require my full attention right now. I can’t go into details, but I assure you, this decision wasn’t made lightly.”

Another journalist jumps in before he can choose the next question. “But surely these personal matters could be handled while continuing to race? Many drivers balance personal issues with their careers.”

Max feels a flicker of irritation. “Every situation is unique. In this case, I need to step away completely. My focus can’t be divided right now.”

The questions keep coming, each one chipping away at Max’s patience.

“Is this related to your recent performance dip?”

“Are there issues within the team we don’t know about?”

“Some fans are accusing you of abandoning the sport. What do you say to them?”

Max answers each as calmly as he can, but he can feel his control slipping. Then, a question from the back of the room ignites the powder keg.

“Max, there are rumors that this is about a woman. Have you let a relationship interfere with your career?”

The room falls silent, all eyes on Max. He grips the edge of the table, knuckles white. For a moment, he considers sticking to the script, giving another vague non-answer. But something inside him snaps.

“You want to know the truth?” He says, his voice low and intense. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Raymond steps forward, a warning in his eyes, but Max waves him off.

“My girlfriend was in a serious car accident,” Max continues, his voice growing louder. “She’s in the hospital with severe injuries and memory loss. She doesn’t even remember who I am.”

The room erupts in gasps and furious scribbling. Max stands, leaning forward on the table.

“So yes, I’m stepping away from racing. Because the woman I love needs me. Because some things are more important than trophies or championship points.”

He’s shouting now, years of pent-up frustration with the media pouring out.

“You all sit here and judge me, speculate about my personal life, accuse me of abandoning the sport. But where were you when I was a kid, pushed to the limit by a demanding father? Where were you when I was struggling with the pressure of being the youngest driver in F1 history?”

The room is dead silent now, every journalist hanging on his words.

“I’ve given everything to this sport. I’ve sacrificed friendships, relationships, a normal life. And now, the one time I need to put something else first, you question my commitment?”

Max’s voice breaks slightly, but he pushes on.

“Y/N is fighting for her life, fighting to remember who she is. Who we are together. And you want me to, what? Leave her alone in a hospital room while I zip around a track?”

He looks around the room, meeting the shocked gazes of the journalists.

“So go ahead. Write your stories. Question my decisions. But know this — I don’t regret my choice. Not for a second. Because at the end of the day, the chequered flag won’t keep me warm at night. It won’t laugh at my jokes or hold my hand when I’m stressed.”

Max takes a deep breath, his anger giving way to a deep sadness.

“I love racing. It’s been my whole life. But I love Y/N more. And right now, she needs me. So I’m going to be there for her, every step of the way, until she’s better. Until she remembers us.”

He sits back down, suddenly drained. The room is still silent, the journalists too stunned to even raise their hands for questions.

Finally, a older journalist in the front row clears his throat. “Max, I ... we had no idea. I’m so sorry about Y/N. Can you tell us more about her condition?”

Max shakes his head, his voice softer now. “I’ve already said more than I planned to. Y/N’s privacy is important to me. All I’ll say is that she’s fighting hard, and I’m going to be right there with her.”

Another journalist speaks up. “You mentioned Y/N doesn’t remember you. How are you coping with that?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, considering his words carefully. “It’s ... it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. Harder than any race, any championship battle. To look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and see no recognition ... it’s gut-wrenching.”

He pauses, swallowing hard. “But I’m not giving up. I’m fighting for us, for our memories, for our future. Even if I have to make her fall in love with me all over again.”

The mood in the room has shifted completely. Gone is the adversarial tension, replaced by a somber understanding.

“What can fans do to support you during this time?” Another journalist asks.

Max manages a small smile. “Just ... be patient. Understand that there are things more important than racing. And maybe, if you’re the praying type, keep Y/N in your thoughts.”

The Red Bull spokesperson steps forward, signaling the end of the conference. But Max holds up a hand, not quite finished.

“I want to say one more thing,” he says, his voice steady. “To any of you out there who might be going through something similar — don’t be afraid to step back. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for putting your loved ones first. At the end of the day, that’s what really matters.”

With that, Max stands and walks out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. As soon as he’s out of sight of the cameras, he leans against a wall, emotions overwhelming him.

Raymond approaches cautiously. “That ... didn’t go quite as planned.”

Max lets out a humorless laugh. “No, I suppose it didn’t.”

“You okay?” Raymond asks, genuine concern in his voice.

Max nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. It feels ... good to have it out there. No more hiding, no more vague excuses.”

Raymond squeezes his shoulder. “You did good, kid. It won’t be easy, but people will understand now.”

Max’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a flood of messages — from his team, his family, even other drivers. But one catches his eye — a text from your mom.

“Just saw the press conference. Y/N would be so proud of you. We all are. Come by the hospital when you can. She’s asking for you.”

Despite everything, Max feels a smile tugging at his lips. He turns to Raymond. “I’ve got to go. Y/N’s waiting.”

Raymond nods understandingly. “Go. We’ll handle things here. Give her our best.”

As Max walks out of the building, he’s greeted by a small crowd of fans. But instead of the anger or disappointment he expected, he sees understanding and support in their faces. Many are holding haphazardly thrown together signs with messages of encouragement for both him and you.

One young girl breaks away from her parents, running up to Max with a hand-drawn card. “This is for Y/N,” she says shyly. “I hope she gets better soon.”

Max kneels down, taking the card with a genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll make sure she gets it.”

As he stands, the crowd starts to applaud. It’s not the roar of a race victory, but a softer, more meaningful sound. The sound of people recognizing a different kind of strength, a different kind of victory.

Max raises a hand in acknowledgment before getting into his waiting car. As the driver pulls away, he looks at the card in his hands. It’s a simple drawing of two stick figures holding hands, with the words “Get well soon Y/N! Max loves you ❤️” written in childish scrawl.

For the first time in days, Max feels a weight lift from his shoulders. The road ahead is still long and uncertain, but he’s not alone. He has the support of his team, his fans, and most importantly, he has you — even if you can’t remember him yet.

As the car speeds towards the hospital, Max makes a silent promise. To you, to himself, to everyone who’s supporting them. He’ll face this challenge with the same determination and focus he brings to the track. Because this is the most important race of his life — the race to help you remember, to rebuild your life together.

And Max Verstappen doesn’t lose races that matter.

***

Max stands outside your hospital room, the handmade card clutched in his hand. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself before knocking softly and entering.

You’re sitting up in bed, looking more alert than he’s seen you since the accident. Your parents are there too, gathering your things in preparation for your discharge tomorrow.

“Max,” you say, a small smile gracing your lips. It’s not the warm, loving smile he’s used to, but it’s a start. “We saw your press conference.”

Max feels a flush creep up his neck. “Ah, yeah. I, uh, might have gotten a bit carried away.”

Your mother steps forward, enveloping him in a hug. “You were wonderful, dear. So brave and honest.”

“Thanks,” Max mumbles, still not entirely comfortable with praise outside of racing. He turns his attention back to you. “How are you feeling today?”

You shrug slightly. “Better, I think. Still ... confused about a lot of things. But the pain is less.”

Max nods, moving closer to your bed. “That’s good. I, uh, I have something for you.” He holds out the card. “A young fan made this for you after the press conference.”

You take the card, examining the childish drawing with a soft expression. “Get well soon Y/N! Max loves you!” You read aloud. Your eyes flick up to meet his. “That’s ... very sweet.”

Max shifts uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. Your father, sensing the tension, clears his throat. “We’re going to go get some coffee. Give you two some time to talk.”

As your parents leave the room, an awkward silence falls. Max takes a seat in the chair beside your bed, fidgeting with his hands.

“So,” you say finally, “you’re taking time off from racing. For me.”

Max nods. “Yeah. I hope that’s okay. I know you don’t ... remember us. But I want to be here for you, however you need me to be.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words. “It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit softly. “Knowing someone’s put their whole life on hold for me.”

Max leans forward, his eyes intense. “Hey, no. Don’t think of it like that. This isn’t a sacrifice or an obligation. It’s a choice. My choice.”

You nod slowly, but he can see the doubt in your eyes. “Tell me something,” you say suddenly. “Something about us. Something ... happy.”

Max feels a smile tugging at his lips as he casts his mind back. “Okay, how about this? Last year, after I won the championship, we took a vacation. Just the two of us, no teams, no press, no obligations.”

“Where did we go?” You ask, curiosity piqued.

“Bali,” Max says, his eyes lighting up with the memory. “We rented this amazing villa right on the beach. You were determined to teach me how to surf.”

A small giggle escapes you. “Did I succeed?”

Max chuckles. “Not even close. I spent more time eating sand than standing on the board. But you were so patient, so encouraging. Even when I was frustrated and ready to give up, you just ... you made it fun.”

“Sounds nice,” you say softly.

“It was more than nice,” Max continues, warming to the subject. “One evening, we were sitting on the beach watching the sunset.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I realized all the trophies, all the victories ... they didn’t compare to just being there with you, watching the sun sink into the ocean.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, absorbing his words. “We sound ... very happy together,” you say finally.

Max nods, blinking back tears. “We are. We were. We will be again.”

You reach out hesitantly, taking his hand. It’s the first time you’ve initiated contact since the accident, and Max feels his heart soar.

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m being discharged tomorrow, and I don’t ... I don’t know where I belong anymore.”

Max squeezes your hand gently. “You belong wherever you feel comfortable. If that’s with your parents for now, that’s okay. If you want to try coming home with me, that’s okay too. There’s no pressure, no expectations. We’ll figure this out together, at your pace.”

You nod, looking grateful. “Thank you. For being so understanding. I know this can’t be easy for you either.”

Max shrugs. “It’s not. But you’re worth it. We’re worth it.”

A comfortable silence falls between you. Max is content to just sit there, holding your hand, savoring this small connection.

After a while, you speak again. “Can you tell me more? About our life together?”

Max’s face lights up. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

You consider for a moment. “What’s a typical day like for us? When you’re not racing, I mean.”

Max leans back in his chair, a fond smile on his face. “Well, you’re definitely the early riser between us. You usually get up first, make coffee. Sometimes you go for a run or do yoga on the balcony.”

“I do yoga?” You ask, sounding surprised.

Max chuckles. “Yeah, you got into it as a way to help me relax between races. Said if it could calm me down, it could work miracles for anyone.”

You laugh at that, a genuine, full laugh that makes Max’s heart skip a beat. It’s the first time he’s heard that sound since the accident.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I usually drag myself out of bed when I smell the coffee. We have breakfast together, usually something healthy that you insist I need.”

“Sounds like I take good care of you,” you observe.

Max nods, his expression softening. “You do. Better than anyone ever has.”

“What else?” You prompt, clearly engrossed in the story of your shared life.

“Well, if I’m training, you often come to the gym with me. You say it’s to support me, but I think you just like ogling me when I lift weights.”

You swat his arm playfully, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “I do not!”

Max grins, delighted by this glimpse of your old dynamic. “Oh, you absolutely do. Not that I mind. I return the favor when you’re doing your yoga.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “What else do we do?”

“We cook together a lot,” Max says. “Or rather, you cook and I try not to burn the kitchen down. You’re teaching me, slowly but surely. We have this tradition of trying to recreate dishes from all the countries I race in.”

“That sounds fun,” you say, a wistful note in your voice. “Do we have a favorite?”

Max thinks for a moment. “There’s this amazing pasta dish we perfected after the Italian Grand Prix. You said it was better than sex.”

Your eyes widen. “I did not!”

Max laughs. “You absolutely did. Then you made me prove you wrong.”

You blush furiously, but you’re laughing too. “I can’t believe I said that!”

“Believe it,” Max says, grinning. “You’re full of surprises, schatje. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

The word ’love’ hangs in the air between you. You grow quiet, your expression thoughtful.

“Max,” you say finally, “I want you to know ... I’m trying. To remember. To ... to feel what you feel.”

Max squeezes your hand. “I know you are. And it’s okay if it takes time. Or if ... if you never feel exactly the same way. We can build something new, if we need to.”

You nod, looking relieved. “Thank you. For understanding. For being patient.”

“Always,” Max says softly.

Just then, your parents return, breaking the intimate moment. Your mother smiles warmly at the sight of your joined hands.

“Everything okay in here?” She asks.

You nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Max was just telling me about our life together.”

Your father clears his throat. “Speaking of which, we should probably discuss arrangements for after your discharge tomorrow.”

You tense slightly, and Max can feel your grip on his hand tighten. “Right,” you say, your voice uncertain.

Max jumps in. “Y/N, remember what I said. Whatever you’re comfortable with. There’s no pressure.”

You nod gratefully. “I think ... I think I’d like to stay with my parents for a bit. If that’s okay?” You look at Max, worry in your eyes.

Max forces a smile, ignoring the pang in his heart. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you need.”

Your mother steps forward. “Max, you’re welcome to visit anytime. We know how important you are to Y/N, even if she can’t remember everything right now.”

Max nods, grateful for their understanding. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

As the conversation turns to logistics of your discharge, Max finds his mind wandering. It’s not the outcome he’d hoped for, but he understands. You need time, space to heal and rediscover yourself. And he’ll be there, every step of the way, however you need him.

As visiting hours come to an end and Max prepares to leave, you call out to him.

“Max?”

He turns back. “Yeah?”

You hesitate for a moment, then say, “Thank you. For everything. And ... I’d like to hear more stories. About us. If that’s okay.”

Max feels a warmth spread through his chest. It’s not a declaration of love, not a magical recovery of memories. But it’s a start. A willingness to explore, to learn, to possibly fall in love all over again.

“Anytime,” he says softly. “I’ve got plenty of stories to tell.”

***

The Monaco apartment feels cavernous and empty as Max pushes open the door. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the soft padding of paws as Jimmy and Sassy come to greet him. They meow insistently, weaving between his legs, clearly searching for someone who isn’t there.

“I know,” Max murmurs, kneeling to scratch behind their ears. “I miss her too.”

He moves through the space, every corner filled with memories. Your favorite mug sits on the kitchen counter, lipstick stain still visible on the rim. A half-read book lies on the coffee table, your bookmark peeking out from the pages. Your scent lingers on the throw pillows on the couch.

Max sinks onto the sofa, and immediately, Jimmy jumps up beside him, headbutting his hand for attention. Sassy follows suit, curling up in his lap.

“At least I’ve got you two,” Max says softly, stroking their fur. “But it’s not the same, is it?”

He pulls out his phone, scrolling through photos of happier times. You and him on vacation, at race weekends, lazy Sundays at home. Your smile, so bright and full of love, now feels like a distant memory.

“Come on, Max,” he mutters to himself. “You can’t fall apart now. Y/N needs you to be strong.”

But in the quiet of the apartment, with only the cats for company, it’s hard to maintain that strength. For the first time since the accident, since the press conference, since leaving you at your parents’ house, Max allows himself to truly feel the weight of everything that’s happened.

A sob escapes him, then another. Soon, he’s crying in earnest, all the pent-up fear and frustration and loneliness pouring out. Jimmy and Sassy press closer, as if trying to comfort him.

“I don’t know what to do,” Max confesses to the empty room. “How do I help her remember? How do I make her fall in love with me again? What if ... what if she never does?”

The cats, of course, don’t answer. But their presence is comforting, a reminder that he’s not entirely alone.

As his tears subside, Max takes a deep breath, trying to center himself. He needs to focus, to come up with a plan. You might not remember your life together, but he does. And he’s determined to help you rediscover it, piece by piece if necessary.

He stands, moving to the bookshelf where you keep photo albums. Maybe he could put together a scrapbook of your relationship, something tangible for you to look through. As he reaches for an album, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

His heart leaps when he sees your name on the screen. He answers immediately, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“Hi,” you say, and he can hear a note of confusion in your voice. “Everything’s fine, I just ... this is going to sound weird, but I needed to ask you something.”

Max sits back down on the couch, curious. “Of course. What is it?”

You hesitate for a moment before speaking. “I’ve been having these ... cravings. For food I don’t remember ever eating before, much less liking. And I thought maybe ... maybe they mean something?”

Max’s pulse quickens. Could this be a sign of your memories returning? “What kind of food?” He asks, trying to keep his voice neutral.

“Tomato soup,” you say. “And beef carpaccio. I know it sounds strange, but I can’t stop thinking about them. Do they ... do they mean anything to you?”

Max feels like his heart might burst out of his chest. “Y/N,” he says softly, “those are my favorite foods.”

“Oh,” you breathe, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “I ... I didn’t know that.”

“The tomato soup is something my mom used to make for me when I was a kid,” Max explains, his voice thick with emotion. “And the carpaccio ... that was what we had on our first real date in Monaco.”

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “I don’t remember that,” you say finally, a note of frustration in your voice. “But I can almost ... almost taste it, you know? Like my body remembers even if my mind doesn’t.”

Max nods, even though you can’t see him. “That’s good, Y/N. That’s really good. It means the memories are still in there somewhere.”

“Maybe,” you say, sounding uncertain. “I just wish I could remember more. It’s so frustrating, having all these ... these echoes of a life I can’t quite grasp.”

“I know,” Max says soothingly. “But this is progress. We just have to be patient.”

You sigh. “You’re right. I just ... I feel bad, you know? You’re being so patient and understanding, and I can’t even remember our first date.”

Max’s heart aches at the sadness in your voice. “Hey, no. Don’t feel bad. This isn’t your fault. We’re in this together, remember?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Together.”

There’s another pause, and Max can almost picture you biting your lip, the way you do when you’re thinking hard about something.

“Max?” You say finally. “Can you ... can you tell me about our first date? The one with the carpaccio?”

A smile spreads across Max’s face. “Of course. It was about a week after we met at that charity gala. I was so nervous, I must have changed my shirt five times before picking you up.”

You laugh softly. “You, nervous? I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it,” Max chuckles. “You had me completely flustered. Still do, if I’m honest.”

He launches into the story, describing how he’d taken you to a small, intimate restaurant overlooking the harbor. How you’d laughed at his attempts to pronounce the French dishes, how your eyes had lit up when you tasted the carpaccio.

“You said it was the best thing you’d ever eaten,” Max recalls. “But I barely tasted the food. I just couldn’t believe someone as amazing as you was interested in me.”

“Max ...” you start, your voice soft and a bit uncertain.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I don’t mean to push. I know this is all still ... complicated.”

“No, it’s okay,” you assure him. “I like hearing these stories. They help, even if I can’t remember them myself yet.”

Max feels a warmth spread through his chest. “I’m glad. I’ve got plenty more where that came from, whenever you want to hear them.”

“I’d like that,” you say. “Maybe ... maybe next time we could do it in person? If you’re not too busy, I mean.”

“Y/N,” Max says seriously, “I’m never too busy for you. Just name the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

You laugh softly. “Careful, I might hold you to that.”

“Please do,” Max says, meaning every word.

As you say your goodbyes, Max feels lighter than he has in days. It’s not a magical fix, not a sudden return of all your memories. But it’s progress. A willingness to explore, to learn, to possibly fall in love all over again.

An idea strikes him as he ends the call. He quickly pulls up a food delivery app on his phone, searching for restaurants near your parents’ house. Finding one that offers both tomato soup and beef carpaccio, he places an order, adding a note.

A taste of our memories. Hope this helps satisfy those cravings - Max

As he completes the order, Max feels a surge of hope. It’s a small gesture, but maybe it will help trigger more memories. Or at the very least, it will show you that he’s thinking of you, that he’s here for you in whatever way you need.

He looks around the apartment, seeing it with new eyes. Yes, it’s empty without you here. But it’s not a sad emptiness anymore. It’s a space waiting to be filled again, with new memories alongside the old.

Max scratches Jimmy and Sassy behind the ears. “What do you think, guys? Should we start planning how to win your mom’s heart all over again?”

The cats purr in response, and Max chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Even if you can’t remember everything yet, your body remembers. Your heart remembers.

And Max is determined to help you rediscover every beautiful moment of your life together, one memory at a time. Starting with a bowl of tomato soup and a plate of beef carpaccio.

***

The shrill ring of his phone jolts Max awake. He fumbles for it in the darkness, heart racing as he sees the caller ID: your mother.

“Hello?” He answers, voice thick with sleep but mind rapidly clearing.

“Max, I’m so sorry to wake you,” your mother’s voice comes through, tense and worried. “It’s Y/N. She woke up about an hour ago and she’s ... she’s not okay.”

Max is already out of bed, fumbling for clothes. “What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” your mother assures him quickly. “She’s just ... she’s crying and she keeps saying she needs you. We can’t calm her down. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You did the right thing,” Max says, pulling on a shirt haphazardly. “I’m on my way. Can you put her on the phone?”

There’s a rustling sound, then your voice comes through, small and broken. “Max?”

His heart clenches at the pain in your voice. “Y/N, I’m here. What’s wrong, liefje?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. “I had this dream and now everything hurts and I can’t ... I can’t remember but I know I need you. Please, Max. I need you here.”

“I’m coming,” Max promises, already dialing his pilot with his other phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just hold on, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. “Please hurry.”

As the call ends, Max is already rushing out the door, barely remembering to grab his wallet and keys. He calls his pilot as he takes the stairs two at a time, not willing to wait for the elevator.

“Frank, I need the jet ready as soon as possible. We’re flying to-” he rattles off the name of your parents’ hometown. “How fast can we be in the air?”

“Mr. Verstappen, it’s the middle of the night,” Frank starts, but Max cuts him off.

“I know what time it is. This is an emergency. How soon?”

There’s a pause, then Frank sighs. “Give me 30 minutes. I’ll call the crew.”

“Make it 20,” Max insists. “I’ll double your rate.”

“We’ll be ready,” Frank assures him.

Max ends the call as he reaches his car, peeling out of the parking garage with a screech of tires. His mind races as fast as the car, worry for you overwhelming everything else.

What could have triggered this? You’d been doing better, or so he thought. The memory of food had seemed like progress. But now ...

He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the road. Getting to you safely is what matters now. Everything else can wait.

Max makes it to the airport in record time, barely bothering to park properly before he’s sprinting towards his private jet. Frank meets him at the stairs.

“We’re fueled and ready,” he says. “Weather looks clear, we should have a smooth flight.”

“Good,” Max nods, already climbing the stairs. “Let’s go.”

As the jet takes off, Max finds himself unable to sit still. He paces the cabin, checking his phone every few seconds even though he knows there’s no signal at this altitude.

The flight attendant approaches cautiously. “Mr. Verstappen? Can I get you anything?”

Max shakes his head, then reconsiders. “Actually, yes. Coffee. Strongest you’ve got.”

She nods, retreating to the galley. Max resumes his pacing, his mind a whirlwind of worry and speculation.

What if you’d remembered something traumatic? What if this setback undid all the progress you’d made? What if ...

He forces himself to stop that line of thinking. Catastrophizing won’t help anyone, least of all you.

The flight seems to take an eternity. As soon as they land, he’s out of his seat, barely waiting for the stairs to fully deploy before he’s racing down them.

A car is waiting, arranged by his ever-efficient team. Max barely registers the driver’s greeting as he slides into the backseat.

He recites the address tersely. “As fast as you can.”

The drive is a blur of streetlights and quiet suburban roads. Max’s leg bounces nervously, his hands clenched into fists.

Finally, mercifully, they pull up to the familiar house. Max is out of the car before it fully stops, racing up the front steps.

Your father opens the door before he can knock. “Thank God you’re here,” he says, ushering Max inside. “She’s upstairs.”

Max takes the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding. He can hear muffled sobs coming from your old bedroom.

He pauses at the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Then he knocks softly. “Y/N? It’s me. It’s Max.”

The sobs quieten slightly. “Max?” Your voice comes through, small and uncertain.

“Can I come in?”

There’s a pause, then: “Please.”

Max opens the door slowly. The room is dimly lit by a bedside lamp, casting long shadows. You’re huddled on the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, eyes red and puffy from crying.

The sight of you so distressed nearly breaks him. In two long strides, he’s at your side.

“I’m here,” he says softly. “I’m right here.”

You look up at him, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “Max,” you whisper, and then you’re launching yourself into his arms.

Max catches you, holding you close as you sob into his chest. He strokes your hair, murmuring soothing words.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Gradually, your sobs subside, replaced by hiccuping breaths. Max continues to hold you, rocking slightly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently.

You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. “I had this dream,” you start, your voice hoarse. “It was so vivid. We were ... we were in a car, I think. And there was a crash and I couldn’t ... I couldn’t reach you.”

Max’s heart clenches. Is this a memory of your accident trying to surface?

“It felt so real,” you continue. “And when I woke up, I was so scared and confused. I couldn’t remember where I was or why you weren’t there. I just knew I needed you.”

“I’m here now,” Max says, cupping your face gently. “I’ll always come when you need me.”

You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. “I’m sorry for making you fly out in the middle of the night.”

Max shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. There’s something different there, something Max can’t quite identify.

“Max,” you say slowly, “I think ... I think I remembered something.”

His breath catches. “What did you remember?”

You furrow your brow, concentrating. “It’s not clear. Just ... feelings, mostly. But when you walked in, when you held me ... it felt familiar. Safe. Like ... like coming home.”

Max feels hope bloom in his chest. “That’s good, schatje. That’s really good. It means the memories are still there, even if they’re hard to reach right now.”

You nod, then yawn widely. The emotional toll of the night is clearly catching up with you.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Max says, moving to stand up.

But you grab his hand, holding him in place. “Will you ... will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”

Max’s heart swells. “Of course. As long as you need.”

You scoot over, making room for him on the bed. Max kicks off his shoes and lies down next to you, careful to maintain a respectful distance.

But you close that distance, curling into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. Like the accident never happened.

“Tell me a story,” you mumble, already half-asleep. “About us.”

Max smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Okay. How about the time we tried to teach Jimmy and Sassy to swim?”

You make a soft sound of agreement, nuzzling closer.

As Max recounts the tale of your misadventures with the cats and a kiddie pool, he feels you relax against him, your breathing evening out.

He continues the story even after he’s sure you’re asleep, partly out of habit, partly because he’s not ready for this moment to end.

Eventually, he falls silent, just listening to your steady breathing. He knows he should leave, go sleep in the guest room or on the couch. But he can’t bring himself to move, to break this fragile peace.

Just a few more minutes, he tells himself. Just a little longer.

Before he knows it, sunlight is streaming through the windows. Max blinks awake, momentarily disoriented. Then he feels you stir against him, and everything comes rushing back.

You lift your head, looking up at him with sleep-clouded eyes. For a moment, just a moment, Max sees recognition there. The look you used to give him every morning.

But then you blink, and it’s gone, replaced by confusion, then embarrassment.

“Oh God,” you mutter, sitting up quickly. “Max, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you here all night.”

Max sits up too, trying to ignore the ache in his heart at the loss of contact. “It’s okay. I wanted to be here.”

You run a hand through your hair, not meeting his eyes. “Last night ... it’s all a bit fuzzy. Did I ... did I say anything? About remembering?”

Max nods slowly. “You said being with me felt familiar. Like coming home.”

You’re quiet for a long moment, staring at your hands. “I wish I could remember more,” you say finally, your voice small. “It’s all still so ... jumbled.”

Max reaches out, then stops himself, unsure if the touch would be welcome. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out together.”

You look up at him then, a small smile on your face. “Together,” you repeat. “I like the sound of that.”

There’s a soft knock at the door, and your mother pokes her head in. “Oh good, you’re both awake. Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”

As you both stand to head downstairs, Max feels a mix of emotions. Disappointment that the night didn’t lead to a magical recovery of your memories. Hope at the small signs of progress. And an overwhelming sense of love for you, memory or no memory.

He knows the road ahead is still long and uncertain. But as he watches you smile at something your mother says, he feels more certain than ever that it’s a road worth traveling.

Because even if you can’t remember all of your history together, you’re still you. Still the woman he fell in love with. And he’ll spend every day helping you rediscover that love, one memory at a time.

***

The rhythmic clanging of weights fills the air as Max pushes through another set of bench presses. Sweat beads on his forehead, his muscles straining with each repetition. Rupert stands nearby, counting softly and offering encouragement.

“Nine ... ten ... good, Max. One more set and we’ll move on.”

The sharp ring of Max’s phone cuts through the gym’s atmosphere. Max grunts, arms shaking as he finishes his reps.

“Can you grab that, Rupert? Might be important.”

Rupert nods, retrieving the phone from Max’s gym bag. “It’s Y/N’s parents,” he says, eyebrows raised.

Max’s heart skips a beat. “Put it on speaker,” he says quickly, sitting up on the bench.

Rupert answers the call, holding the phone out between them. “Hello? This is Rupert, Max’s trainer. You’re on speaker.”

“Oh, hello Rupert,” comes the familiar voice of your mother. “Is Max there? We have some news.”

“I’m here,” Max says, leaning closer to the phone. “What’s going on? Is Y/N okay?”

There’s a pause, and Max feels his anxiety spike. Then, your father’s voice comes through, barely containing his excitement.

“Max, it’s ... it’s incredible. Y/N says she can remember. Not everything, but ... a lot. She woke up this morning and it was like a flood of memories just came back to her.”

The words hit Max like a physical force. He stands abruptly, forgetting the weight still balanced precariously on his legs. It crashes to the floor with a deafening clang, missing Rupert’s foot by mere inches.

“Whoa!” Rupert yelps, jumping back. “Easy there, Max!”

But Max barely notices. His entire world has narrowed to the voice coming from the phone. “She ... she remembers? Are you sure? How much does she remember?”

Your mother’s voice comes back on. “It’s still patchy, but she remembers you, Max. She remembers your life together, your home in Monaco. She’s been talking about the cats all morning.”

Max feels his knees go weak. He sits back down heavily on the bench, his head spinning. “Can I ... can I talk to her?”

“I’m afraid she’s with the doctors right now,” your father explains. “They want to run some tests, make sure everything’s okay. But she’s been asking for you. We thought you’d want to know right away.”

Max nods, then remembers they can’t see him. “Yes, of course. Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll take the jet, I can be there in”

“Actually,” your mother interrupts, “Y/N has been asking to come home. To Monaco. She says she misses you, and the cats, and ... well, her life with you.”

Max feels a lump form in his throat. “She wants to come home?” He repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

“If that’s alright with you,” your father adds quickly. “We understand if you need time to prepare, or if you think it’s too soon”

“No!” Max exclaims, perhaps a bit too loudly. He clears his throat. “I mean, no, it’s not too soon. It’s perfect. I can send the jet for her right away. If ... if that’s what she wants.”

He can hear the smile in your mother’s voice as she responds. “It is. She’s quite insistent, actually. Says she wants to sleep in her own bed.”

Max feels a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll make the arrangements right away. Can you have her ready to go in ... let’s say five hours?”

“We can do that,” your father confirms. “And Max? She’s ... she’s really excited to see you.”

Max swallows hard, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “I can’t wait to see her too. Thank you both, for everything.”

As the call ends, Max looks up to see Rupert grinning at him. “So,” his trainer says, “I’m guessing our workout is over for the day?”

Max laughs, a sound of pure joy and relief. “Yeah, I’d say so. Sorry about almost crushing your foot.”

Rupert waves it off. “Small price to pay for good news like that. Go on, get out of here. Go prepare for Y/N’s homecoming.”

Max doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s already dialing his pilot as he rushes towards the locker room. “Frank? I need the jet ready as soon as possible. We need to pick someone up ...”

That evening, Max is pacing the length of his — your — living room, unable to keep still. He’s tidied the already immaculate apartment three times, checked on the cats twice, and changed his shirt four times.

Max takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He sinks onto the couch, and immediately Jimmy jumps into his lap.

“Hey, buddy,” Max murmurs, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “Mama’s coming home. You excited?”

Jimmy purrs in response, kneading Max’s leg. Sassy, not to be left out, appears from nowhere and curls up next to them.

“Yeah, me too,” Max says softly. He looks around the apartment, memories flooding back. Your first night here together, nervous and excited about taking this step. Lazy Sunday mornings cuddled on this very couch. The time you tried to teach him to dance in the living room, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand.

The next hour crawls by at an agonizing pace. Max alternates between sitting rigidly on the couch and pacing the floor. He checks his phone obsessively, waiting for updates.

Finally, blessedly, his phone rings. It’s his pilot. “We’ve landed, boss. Y/N’s parents are helping her into the car now. Should be at your place in about 20 minutes.”

Max feels his heart rate double. “Thanks, Frank. Until next time.”

The next 20 minutes are the longest of Max’s life. He stands by the window, watching the street below, waiting for the familiar black SUV to appear.

When it finally does, Max feels like he might pass out. He watches as the car pulls up, as the driver gets out to open the back door. And then ... there you are.

You look tired, a bit pale, but to Max, you’ve never been more beautiful. You look up at the building, a soft smile playing on your lips. And then your eyes meet his through the window.

Max feels his breath catch in his throat. Because in that moment, he sees it. Recognition. Love. You’re really back.

He’s at the door in an instant, yanking it open just as you step off the elevator. For a moment, you both freeze, taking each other in.

“Max,” you whisper, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.

“Y/N,” he breathes, and then you’re in his arms.

He holds you tightly, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in. You cling to him just as fiercely, and he can feel your tears soaking through his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest. “I’m so sorry I forgot you.”

Max pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands cupping your face. “Hey, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re here now. You’re home.”

You nod, a watery smile on your face. “I am. I remember, Max. Not everything, not yet. But I remember us. I remember loving you.”

Max feels tears spill down his cheeks, but he doesn’t care. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you so much, liefje. God, I was so scared I’d lost you.”

You shake your head, your hands coming up to wipe away his tears. “Never. You could never lose me, Max Verstappen. Not really.”

And then you’re kissing, and it’s like coming home after a long, difficult journey. It’s familiar and new all at once, and Max never wants it to end.

A loud meow interrupts the moment. You break apart, laughing, to see Jimmy and Sassy winding around your feet, demanding attention.

“Oh, my babies!” You exclaim, kneeling down to scoop them up. “I missed you too!”

Max watches, his heart so full it feels like it might burst. This is what he’s been missing, what he’s been fighting for. You, here, in your home, with your little family.

As you straighten up, cats in arms, Max wraps an arm around your waist. “Welcome home,” he says softly.

You lean into him, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “It’s good to be home.”

Max knows there’s still a long road ahead. Your memory isn’t fully restored, and there will be challenges to face. But right now, in this moment, with you in his arms, he knows everything will be okay.

Because you remembered. You came home. And together, you can face anything.

***

The neon lights of Las Vegas blur into streaks of color as Max races through the city streets, his Red Bull car a blur of blue and red and yellow. The roar of the engine fills his ears, but it can’t drown out the beating of his own heart. This race feels different, more important than any he’s ever driven before.

As he navigates a tight corner, Max’s mind flashes back to the conversation that led him here...

“Max, you need to go back,” you had said, your voice gentle but firm. “Racing is part of who you are. I’m better now, and I want to see you out there doing what you love.”

Max had shaken his head, pulling you closer on the couch. “But what if something happens? What if you need me?”

You had laughed, a sound that still made his heart skip a beat. “I’ll always need you, silly. But I don’t need you hovering over me 24/7. Plus,” you added with a mischievous grin, “I miss seeing you in that race suit.”

Now, as he pushes the car to its limits, Max feels a renewed sense of purpose. He’s not just racing for himself anymore, or for the team. He’s racing for you, to make you proud, to show you that your faith in him wasn’t misplaced.

“Max, you’re pulling away,” GP’s voice crackles through the radio. “Gap to P2 is now 3.5 seconds. Keep this up, mate.”

Max grunts in acknowledgment, too focused to form words. He knows you’re watching from the garage, probably biting your nails like you always do during his races. The thought makes him smile behind his helmet.

Lap after lap, Max maintains his lead. The famous Las Vegas Strip becomes a blur of light and shadow as he speeds past the iconic hotels and casinos. In the back of his mind, he remembers your excitement when you found out about this race.

“Vegas, Max! It’s going to be incredible. Promise me we’ll stay a few extra days after the race?”

He had promised, of course. He’d promise you the moon if you asked for it.

As the final laps approach, Max’s concentration intensifies. He’s been in this position before, leading a race, victory within grasp. But it’s never felt quite like this.

“Two laps to go,” GP informs him. “You’ve got this. Just bring it home.”

Max takes a deep breath, visualizing the remaining track in his mind. He can almost hear your voice, the way you’d whisper “You’ve got this” before every race, a private moment just for the two of you amidst the pre-race chaos.

The last lap arrives, and Max is in the zone. Every turn, every straight, every gear change is perfect. As he rounds the final corner, the chequered flag comes into view.

“Yes!” Max shouts as he crosses the finish line, pumping his fist in the air. The team erupts in cheers over the radio, but Max is waiting for one particular voice.

“Brilliant drive, Max!” GP exclaims. “Absolute masterclass. How does it feel to be back on the top step?”

Max takes a moment to catch his breath, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. When he speaks, his voice is thick with feeling.

“It feels ... it feels incredible,” he says. “But this win, it’s not for me. It’s for Y/N.”

He can hear the surprise and emotion in GP’s voice as he responds. “That’s beautiful. I’m sure she’s over the moon right now.”

As Max begins his cool-down lap, he continues, knowing his words are being broadcast to millions around the world, but speaking only to you.

“Y/N, liefje, this one’s for you. For your strength, your courage, your unwavering support. You pushed me to come back even when I wanted to stay home with you. You believed in me when I doubted myself. This victory is yours as much as it’s mine.”

He pauses, swallowing hard. “I love you, Y/N. More than any trophy, any championship. You’re my biggest win.”

As he pulls into parc fermé, Max can see the team gathered, ready to celebrate. But his eyes scan the crowd, looking for only one person.

And there you are, pushing through the throng of mechanics and officials. Your eyes are shining with tears, but your smile is radiant.

Max practically leaps out of the car, not even bothering with his helmet. He meets you halfway, sweeping you up in his arms and spinning you around.

“You did it!” You exclaim, laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh Max, I’m so proud of you!”

Max sets you down but doesn’t let go, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, we did it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “This was all you, Max. I just watched from the sidelines.”

“You’ve never been on the sidelines,” Max says firmly. “You’re the reason I’m here. The reason I push myself to be better, on and off the track.”

Before you can respond, the team descends upon them, whooping and cheering. Max is pulled away for the podium ceremony, but his eyes never leave you.

The champagne flows, the anthems play, but it all feels like a blur to Max. All he can think about is getting back to you, celebrating properly.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of photos and interviews, Max is able to escape back to the team’s hospitality area. You’re waiting for him, a glass of champagne in hand and a proud smile on your face.

“There’s my champion,” you say softly as he approaches.

Max pulls you close, not caring who might be watching. “I meant what I said on the radio,” he murmurs. “This win is yours.”

You laugh, a sound that still makes his heart soar. “Well, in that case, I guess I should start preparing my acceptance speech for the Prize Giving Ceremony.”

Max grins, playing along. “Oh yeah? And what would this speech entail?”

You pretend to think for a moment. “Let’s see … I’d like to thank the academy, and of course, my incredibly handsome and talented boyfriend, without whom none of this would be possible ...”

Max laughs, feeling lighter than he has in months. “Handsome and talented, huh? I like the sound of that.”

You smack his arm playfully. “Don’t let it go to your head, Verstappen. I’ve seen you first thing in the morning, remember?”

“Hey, I thought you said I was cute when I’m all sleepy and rumpled,” Max protests.

“Cute, yes. Handsome is a stretch,” you tease.

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me. And after I just dedicated my win to you and everything.”

You soften, reaching up to cup his face. “It was beautiful, Max. Really. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Max turns serious, covering your hand with his own. “You existed. That’s more than enough.”

You stand there for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes, the celebration continuing around you unnoticed.

Finally, Max breaks the silence. “So, about that promise to stay a few extra days in Vegas ...”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you remembered! I was hoping you would.”

Max grins. “Of course I remembered. I was thinking... maybe we could make it a bit more special than just a few extra days?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”

Max takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous. This wasn’t how he’d planned to do this, but standing here with you, flush with victory and love, it feels right.

“Well,” he says slowly, reaching into his pocket, “I was thinking maybe we could celebrate our engagement.”

Your eyes widen as Max drops to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box. The noise of the celebration fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“Y/N,” Max begins, his voice shaky but determined, “these past few months have been the hardest of my life. But they’ve also shown me, without a doubt, that you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Through good times and bad, wins and losses, I want you by my side.”

He opens the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”

You gasp, tears filling your eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Max fears he’s misjudged, moved too fast. But then you’re nodding, a radiant smile breaking through the tears.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, Max. A thousand times yes.”

Max slips the ring onto your finger with trembling hands, then stands to pull you into a passionate kiss. The team, finally noticing what’s happening, erupts into cheers and applause.

As you break apart, breathless and giddy, Max rests his forehead against yours. “I love you. More than I ever thought possible.”

You beam up at him, your eyes shining with happiness. “I love you too. Always and forever.”

As the team swarms around them, offering congratulations and calling for more champagne, Max holds you close. This, he realizes, is his true victory. Not the race win, not the trophies or the championships. But this moment, with you in his arms, promising a future together.

***

Emma settles into her favorite armchair, a steaming mug of tea on the side table and Max Verstappen’s newly released autobiography in her hands. As a long-time fan of Formula 1 and Max in particular, she’s been eagerly anticipating this book.

She flips through the early chapters, smiling at familiar stories of Max’s rise through the ranks of motorsport. But it’s the chapter titled “The Race of My Life” that catches her attention. This, she knows, is where Max will finally open up about the period when he stepped away from racing — a time that had puzzled and worried fans.

As Emma begins reading, she’s immediately struck by the raw emotion in Max’s words.

I thought I knew what pressure was. The weight of expectations, the split-second decisions that could mean victory or defeat. But nothing in my racing career could have prepared me for the day I walked into that hospital room and saw the love of my life look at me without a hint of recognition.

Emma feels a lump form in her throat. She remembers the press conference where Max had revealed the reason for his absence, but this ... this is different. This is Max laying bare his soul in a way she’s never seen before.

In that moment, I realized that all the trophies, all the victories, all the adoration from fans — none of it mattered. The true test of my life wasn’t on any track. It was right there, in that sterile hospital room, facing the possibility of losing the one person who saw me not as Max Verstappen the driver, but just as Max.

Emma finds herself blinking back tears. She’s always admired Max for his skill on the track, his determination, his fierce competitiveness. But this vulnerability, this raw honesty, shows a side of him she never knew existed.

The chapter continues, detailing the days and weeks following the accident. Max describes the pain of seeing you struggle to remember, the hope that would flare with each small recognition, and the crushing disappointment when progress stalled.

I’ve faced some of the best drivers in the world, pushed myself to the absolute limit of human capability. But nothing — nothing — has ever been as challenging as sitting by her bedside, day after day, telling her stories of our life together and seeing no spark of remembrance in her eyes. It was like watching the person I loved most in the world slip away, inch by inch, and being powerless to stop it.

Emma has to pause her reading, overwhelmed by the emotion. She tries to imagine what it must have been like for Max, known for his control and precision on the track, to face a situation where he had no control at all.

As she continues reading, she’s struck by Max’s honesty about his own struggles during this time:

There were moments — dark, terrible moments — when I wondered if it would be easier to walk away. To accept that the woman I loved was gone, replaced by this stranger who wore her face but didn’t know my heart. The guilt I felt for even thinking such thoughts nearly crushed me. But I realized that true love, real love, isn’t just about the easy times. It’s about choosing to stay, to fight, even when every instinct is screaming at you to run.

Emma finds herself nodding, moved by Max’s profound realization. She remembers following his career, cheering his victories, sympathizing with his defeats. But this … this feels like she’s truly seeing the man behind the racer for the first time.

The chapter takes a turn as Max describes the day you started to remember:

When she looked at me that day, really looked at me, and I saw recognition in her eyes — it was like winning every championship, every race, all at once. No podium celebration could ever compare to the joy of hearing her say my name, of feeling her arms around me, knowing that she remembered us, our love, our life together.

Emma feels tears rolling down her cheeks now, unashamed. She’s always been moved by stories of love and perseverance, but knowing this is real, that it happened to someone she’s admired for so long, makes it all the more powerful.

As the chapter nears its end, Max reflects on how this experience changed him:

I returned to racing eventually, but I was never the same driver … or the same man. I had faced my greatest fear and come out the other side. I had learned that there are things more precious than any trophy, more thrilling than any race. I learned the true meaning of love, of commitment, of fighting for what really matters in life.

Emma closes the book, needing a moment to process everything she’s read. She feels like she’s seen a completely new side of Max Verstappen, one that goes far beyond the confident, sometimes brash young driver she remembers.

Picking up her phone, she opens Twitter, scrolling through reactions to the book. It seems she’s not alone in her emotional response. Fans and fellow drivers alike are sharing their thoughts.

Just finished @Max33Verstappen’s book. I’m in tears. What an incredible story of love and perseverance ❤️

Always respected Max as a driver, but this book shows what a truly remarkable person he is.

Emma adds her own tweet to the mix.

Thank you, @Max33Verstappen, for sharing your story. You’ve shown us that the greatest victories in life often happen off the track 🥺

She picks up the book again, turning to the final pages of the chapter. Max’s closing words resonate deeply.

In the end, life isn’t about the races you win or the records you break. It’s about the people you love, the bonds you forge, the differences you make. My greatest achievement isn’t any trophy or title. It’s the life I’ve built with her, the love we’ve nurtured through good times and bad. That’s my true legacy, and it’s one that will last far beyond when the chequered flag last waves for me.

[chocogoldie]

Love Slip

bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contains: established relationship, a bit suggestive at one point

short continuation of Nip Slip 18+

It's been a while since the two of you started dating. Approximately three months, two days and forty-three minutes. But who's keeping count?

During your time together, you've come to learn many things about the blond ticking time bomb:

One, he's a very organized and clean guy. He has to-do lists separated into categories in his phones' notepad app, a strict schedule he follows everyday to stay in shape — not that he needs it, but getting to brag about being able to lift you up certainly strokes his ego — and an extremely neat room that stays neat no matter what. He brushes his teeth three times a day, eats healthy meals, has a proper skincare routine and smells of sweet caramel even when he's dripping with sweat coming back from the gym or from an intense training session with your classmates. ln short, his hygiene is top notch.

Two, he's a little bit of a gym freak. Not that you'd ever mind, you even find it hot most of the time, but sometimes he gets provoked by his other gym buddies, mainly Kirishima and Kaminari, to try out all sorts of exercises with you on his back. Push-ups, squats, even yoga poses, literally anything they can think of just to see if it'd work. You've fallen on your ass more than he'd like, or care, to admit. Not because he wasn't strong, no, but because you cannot concentrate on holding onto him for the life of you, always getting distracted by the way his muscles flex and how he grunts from exertion. It's a sight for sore eyes, strands of hair sticking to his forehead while his usually spiky hair dampens and falls down beautifully, framing his face. It reminds you of your first night together, so of course you wouldn't be able to pay attention to anything else. You don't mention how incredibly good he looks in his compression shirts. Yes, he bought multiple after you oggled him up and hinted at loving the way they fit muscly men.

And last but not least, he's clingier than anyone you've ever met which is a stark, and quite frankly adorable, contrast to his sharp appearance. You're working on some assignments? He's bringing you food and making himself comfortable on your bed while putting on a weird dating show on the TV, occasionally checking up on you to remind you to take breaks. You're going for a quick grocery run? He doesn't waste a second to throw on whatever clothes he can find and join you, walking around the store with the shopping cart and imagining you two as a married couple well into your marriage shopping for your little family. You're taking a bath? Scooch over, he's helping you wash your hair and back. You're feeling sad? He's bringing your favorite ice cream and listening to you vent while gently running his hands over your face, back, thighs, arms, anywhere to soothe you. He cradles your face when your sobbing gets louder, pressing his forehead against yours to help ground you into reality, to snap yourself out of your worries by murmuring “I'm here, baby,” or “I got you”. All in all, he's a big softie for you.

He often shows his affection through his actions, but sometimes when the two of you are alone and in the silence of your bedrooms, he pushes his embarrassment aside and spills his heart out. He vents about hero work, about how he doesn't think he's good enough, or rather, nice enough to be a hero, always ending up berating people to hide his true intentions and words. It's something he's always struggled with, but he's been working on it constantly with you, his friends, and in therapy. He tells you everything about what happened during his time in highschool, how the man literally died for a minute, and how much that impacted his life onwards. You listen intently and comfort him through it, crushing him into a tight embrace to remind him you're there for him as well and that you'd do anything to make him happy. He tells you that your presence is enough.

He whispers soft “I love you”'s each night before you two drift off to sleep, letting his hand rest on the small of your back underneath your shirt, needing to feel your skin against his to be able to sleep. The warmth your body provides gets rid of his reoccurring nightmares and allows him to sleep soundly throughout the night with you by his side. And he very quickly realizes he never wants to lose you. Ever.

Because he might've slipped into having a little crush on you, but he willingly chose to fall in love with you.

© chocogoldie 2024. do not translate, copy, or repost.

a/n: a little smth i came up with while waiting for the poll to finish :3 hope u enjoyed it! not proofread

[inmyheaddd]

loving you forever can’t be wrong - rafe cameron x reader

summary: your ex has been non stop texting you for weeks, and you tell rafe. then he leaves as you fall asleep to go ‘handle some things’ warnings: mild language, sweet!rafe (to you atleast!!), mentions of cuts and blood wc: 1.5k

another notification came from your ex, insulting you in one paragraph, then begging for you back in the next. 

as rafe sat on the couch next to you typing away at his phone, you pulled your bottom lip through your teeth anxiously as you thought on what to do about the situation, ultimately deciding on speaking up.

you cleared your throat —a nervous habit, before calling out. “rafe?”

he hummed lowly in response, signaling he was listening as his eyes stayed glued to his phone.

swallowing thickly before speaking, you said,“there’s this guy who keeps bothering me— well, it’s my ex, and i keep blocking him, but he keeps finding ways to text me.” 

you would’ve found the way his head snapped up so quickly at the mention of a guy, more so your ex, in any other situation hilarious. but nothing really felt funny right now.

“what the fuck?” his attention was fully on you now, as that angry glint in his eyes reserved for his fights began to reappear, along with that oh so familiar clench of his jaw. “bothering you?”

“yeah like, texting me and stuff and calling m—“ 

he clicked his tounge, visibly frustrated as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “nah, what? let me see this shit.” he motioned for you to come closer, and you placed your phone in his hand as you sat next to him, bringing one knee to your chest and hugging it. 

as he read through the messages, you told him the multiple stories on how many times you’ve blocked this guy, how many accounts he’s made, and how you never even respond to him. 

his tounge poked the inside of his cheek as he tried to keep his anger in check, shaking his head and scoffing in disbelief, even laughing at the guy. 

“the fuck?” he muttered under his breath as he scrolled through the messages, seeing just how far they went back. “he’s been texting you for weeks? how pathetic is this fucker, huh?”

you simply pursed your lips in response, shrugging as rafes eyes flickered between yours and the phone.

his eyes slightly narrowed, then came the question, “why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

you weren’t really too sure, if you were being honest. you truly believed the blocking would’ve put him to a stop, but the messages only kept getting more and more aggressive. 

“well, i thought that he would stop, and, well, i don’t know…” you trailed off, your voice getting quieter as your eyes flickered to the phone, then back to rafe. “he just didn’t.” 

his jaw ticked as he heard the way your voice slightly quivered, and you could’ve sworn his eyes almost softened, but who were you kidding? this was rafe cameron you were dealing with. 

“listen, next time, you tell me first fucking thing when anyone’s bothering you, alright?”

he pointed a finger at you as to further get his point across, and you let go of your knee, sighing as you did so. 

“rafe i’m fine, i promise.” your voice involuntarily pitched higher towards the end of the sentence, coming across as a whiny child more so than the grown person you were. 

“alright?”

you opened your mouth to speak, then shut it again as he raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, his finger still pointed. you nodded, mumbling a small, “yeah, alright.” 

there wasn’t any room to argue. 

he mumbled under his breath as he resumed scrolling through the messages, a thick vein becoming prominent in his neck. “there won’t be a fucking next time, after i’m done with this sick fuck.”

“what?” 

he didn’t take his eyes off the phone, then he smiled, and the only way to describe that smile was wicked. “nothin’, baby.”

—

you were drifting in and out of sleep off watching shitty reality tv, cuddled up in your fuzzy blanket. you faintly felt rafe come up to you and press a kiss to your shoulder before he got up and left, causing you to stir awake. 

when you were fully awake, and realised he had left, you texted him countlessly, worrying where he was. he didn’t respond until 2 hours later with ‘handling things’ and ‘open the door baby’. 

you instantly hurried to the door, anticipating what you were going to see behind it. your breath hitched as you opened the door anyways, as rafe stood infront of you. his chest rising and falling heavily, his knuckles bloodied, and a slight bruise forming on his jaw — it was nothing you hadn’t seen before from him, but your heart still dropped every time. 

you couldn’t manage anything but a whisper as you brought a hand to your mouth, “oh my god, rafe.” 

he side stepped past you, running a hand through his hair as he kicked off his shoes. standing there, he looked like the complete opposite of you, with his disheveled clothes and sweaty skin. 

your hair was freshly blow dried after the shower you took to calm yourself down, still smelling like your shampoo, and your face was in a complete frown.

you knew what happened, but that didn’t stop you from asking anyway as you stepped towards him. “what did you do?”

“nothin,” he said, with that same smile from earlier as he brought a hand up, stroking your hair as he looked down at you. “you’re real pretty, you know that?” 

you sighed annoyedly as your lips took on a slight pout, but you leaned into his touch nonetheless. “rafe.” 

“what?” he replied in the same tone as you, you’d say he was mocking you if you didn’t know any better. 

he murmured, his voice dropping lower as he stepped even closer, your head slightly craning up. “baby, c’mon, don’t look at me like that.”

clearly you weren’t doing a very good job at hiding how worried you were. 

“what if you got hurt? or- or if he called the cops or something? you need to be careful, rafe.”

you tried not to worry, to just let him do his thing, and be all laid back, but it was so hard when he came back to you all bruised and bloody and acted like nothing happened. 

he let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor behind it— more like he was trying to make light of the situation.

“the cops can’t do shit. i know what im doing.” when you didn’t respond, only sighing as you broke eye contact and looked at the floor, he clicked his tounge, pulling you in close and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

you couldn’t wipe the pout off your face, but you moved your arms to wrap around his torso. 

“ ‘m sorry,” he mumbled into your hair as he gently swayed you side to side. “won’t do it again.“ 

you laid your head on his chest. you knew that he did this every single time, but a small part of you wanted to believe it anyways. 

“promise?” you asked.

“promise.” 

you lifted your head up from his chest to look at him, and you couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on your lips. 

he chuckled at just how fast your mood changed, running a hand up and down your arm. “that happy, huh?” 

you didn’t answer, only looking down as you smile widened. when you looked down, you saw his other hand with its beat up knuckles, and remembered the whole reason you were worried in the first place. 

you unwrapped your arms from him, carefully picking up his hand with the both of yours, wary not to touch any of the cuts.“oh my god,” you muttered, “we need to get that fixed up.”

—

rafe sat on the closed toilet lid, as you stood in between his legs. you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration as you wiped down his cuts on his knuckles with an alchohol wipe. 

“you know, if you didn’t get into a fight, we wouldn’t have to do this right now.” you murmured, your eyes flitting between his hands and his eyes. 

he clicked his tongue, “he was askin’ for it, talking to my girl like that.” 

you said nothing, only looking at him briefly, as you moved to his other hand, which was evidently worse than the one you had just done. he took a sharp intake of breath as you gently wiped his over cuts, turning his head to the side and clenching his jaw. then he blew out a breath, almost like a whistle.

you immediately stopped your actions, placing your hands back to your side as you went to get a better look at his face. “i’m sorry, are you okay?”  

“yeah,” he breathed out as he looked at you,  and he nodded forward slightly, motioning for you to continue. “jus’ keep doing your thing baby.” 

you managed a small smile in response, resuming but attempting to be even more careful. 

after a couple beats of silence, you spoke. “you better not split these open, and have us sitting here again.” 

you tried to sound serious and warning as you put a band aid on some of the bigger cuts, but rafe only let out a breathy chuckle at your words.

“you sure you don’t like doin’ this?” 

“that’s…” you bit back a smile and avoided eye contact, but you knew rafe was somewhat grinning. “that’s not the point.” you were finally done now, and your hands fell back to your sides.  

“yeah, you’re funny, alright.” he let out another one of his laughs before he stood up, wrapping an arm lazily around your shoulders as he steered you both back to your room. 

[autffiy]

Hi hello hey! i want to give you guys some motivation to manifest your dream life!

Yes, you heard me right. It is possible even overnight. I used to think it was impossible to get anything i want, like it never made sense to me. Even after reading multiple posts and tweets and watch every loa video you can possibly think of. I applied the law, i affirmed for days and days, but nothing changed. Why Alli? you must think. Because i affirmed and did every technique i could find, but i never actually applied. If it wouldn’t show i would always be bitching why it didn’t show up or why everybody could get it and not me.

But then… Then i found out that the 3D actually didn’t mean shit. I could be miserable all i want and still get my desires by just thinking in my favor and actually persisting in it. No more looking in the 3d, no more bitching about things i didn’t have. No, actually thinking like i have it all right now. Because guess what? IT IS POSSIBLE. Your imagination creates reality. Be delusional, think like you’re that bitch. Get. your. shit. No more wavering, be disciplined. Trust in yourself, because you create your reality!

Here are some of my favorite things i manifested:

-My desired appearance and overcoming bodydismorphia and actually falling in love with myself

-A shit load of money [yes you can do it, money is just paper. Its easy]

-My psoriasis clearing up overnight.

-Getting my diploma without doing much for it.

AND YOU CAN DO IT TO! believe in yourself, you’re allowed to be the best version of yourself and get everything you want.

[salemlunaa]

❦ VOID STATE: THIS ISN’T YOU, YOU HAVE NO PLACE HERE ❦

the life you live now shouldn’t feel natural, like at all

So for those using the void to respawn or to permashift, there’s a reason things are so difficult: you are so comfortable where you are and that needs to change. Stop aligning with this shitty reality, as i said before, you must change what’s natural to you, this place isn’t natural to you anymore. The nanosecond you decided you wanted more, this reality wasn’t “yours” anymore. The second you even knew you had a “desired reality” was the second that it became YOUR reality. And one of the reasons you guys don’t feel natural about this is you don’t think you deserve it and in the back of your mind you still see something so simple (yet made to seem impossible by society) out of your reach

when you “fail the void” and wake back up in your current reality, you have a tinge of disappointment in your heart, and emotion is more than allowed but you also had a “knowing” that this was gonna happen, it was almost like you expected to fail, like you expected to be dropped back here in your shitty life when the void “didn’t work out” for you. Instead you should be confused, or slightly annoyed

why are you here? why did you wake up here?

this isn’t YOUR reality and you KNOW this

why did you expect to wake up in that bed when you said you were gonna align yourself with your new reality?

there is no place for you here, the new reality is where you belong

you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t EXPECT to wake up here

This can even be applied to waking up in your old face and body, that body that you saved into your mood board, isn’t a desire, it’s just yours. That pretty girl you save into your favourites isn’t your “face claim”, you just have that face naturally. You save edits of your “desired” significant other, telling yourself that they’ll be yours one day when they’re yours NOW.

These aren’t desires, they are yours. Just yours.

You should stop feeling so comfortable in a body, face, family or reality that doesn’t belong to you. That comfort you have in waking up back in your shitty life lets me KNOW that you don’t genuinely, truly think you deserve your new life. And you not believing you’re worthy of your new life and that you’ll “get there if you’re lucky enough” is what causes you guys to be so lazy about tapping in

Even the word “desired” shows that you see YOUR life as something so out of reach, instead maybe go for “new reality/ new story” and instead of calling it your “current reality”, call it your “old story” because that’s all it is, it’s not your current state or your reality, it’s only some distant story.

Now i urge you to go look at that mood board/ favourites folder you’ve made in honour of your desired self and the life you have in your desired reality (and yes i know you have a mood board, if not multiple 🙄) and look at it hard, tell yourself “wow, that’s ME”, because IT IS YOU, fall in love with yourself and your life because THAT IS YOU MY LOVE, AND THAT’S HOW YOU LIVE

CHANGE WHAT YOURE COMFORTABLE WITH, AND YOUR NEW LIFE WILL BE YOURS, BE CONFIDENT ABOUT THE NEW YOU 🐆💋

[imcheshire]

Sleepy

Fluff//Multiple characters//Wc: 0.3k

Your head lies on his soft chest, lightheaded as your mind drifts between reality and dreamland.

A few hours ago, he laid down on your bed, playing video games with his friends. You soon, after a warm shower, joined him, lying on top of him. Since then, you didn’t really move, being comfortable, becoming sleepier with every passing second.

Now, you’re bathing in his scent, coming from his hoodie—which is of course yours too—, and from him too. It smells like home. It calms you.

You are listening to his heartbeat and those occasional comments he makes about the game or the others. There are some funny ones. They make you laugh as you draw circles on his arm. With every circle, your pace slows, then fully stops for a second as you yawn.

“You sleepy, babe?” He asks with a tender voice.

“Mhm.” You reply, nuzzling closer to him, if that’s even possible.

“You know you can fall asleep, right? You don’t have to stay awake, we will be playing for another hour at least.”

“But I want to be with you.” You mumble, barely coherent.

“I’ll be here all night long and in the morning.” Then there is a pause. “And all day too; we live together, my love.”

“I know, but-“ You start.

“No buts, go to sleep.” He interrupts, leaving no room for argument.

Some time passes before another round ends. You are barely awake by now, holding onto that small ounce of energy you have left.

Then you feel as he slowly starts playing with your silky hair. He makes the most of the time between two rounds.

It feels nice. Comforting.

Slowly, you fall deeper and deeper into the realm of dreams. By the start of the next round, you are sound asleep in your boyfriend’s arms.

Haikyuu Suga, Tanaka, Noya, Kageyama, Yamaguchi, Tsukki, Kuroo, Kenma, Yaku, Lev, Atsumu, Osamu, Sunarin, Kita (when the boys pursue him lol) Blue lock Bachira, Isagi, Kunigami, Nagi, Reo, Sae MHA Bakugou, Deku, Shoto, Kirishima, Kaminari JJK Yuji, Megumi, Yuta + your favs<3

These are the characters that I see fit for my story. Ofc this is my opinion only. I did not watch all the animes to know them well, so some are based on vibes, only.

[baelabong]

ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ

(ᴋᴀʀɪɴᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

rq: yes

Pairing: Knight! G!P! Karina x princess! fem reader

Note/warnings: multiple s*x scenes, swearing, this is all fiction gang, riding Next

“Y/N,” he begins, his tone one of authority. “Next week Wednesday is an important night, not just for our kingdom, but for you personally.”

You nod, trying to keep your expression composed. “Yes, Father.”

He walks over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip is firm, a reminder of the expectations that have always been placed on you. “Mark’s family is powerful, their influence extends across many lands. A strong alliance with them would benefit our kingdom greatly. It’s time you start thinking about your future… about marriage.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest, but you force yourself to remain calm, nodding in agreement. “I understand, Father.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze softening slightly. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Y/N. But as a princess, your duty to the kingdom must come first. Tonight, you must show Mark’s family that you’re ready to take on that responsibility.”

You swallow hard, your throat tightening as you suppress the emotions threatening to break free. “I will do my best, Father.”

He gives you a small, approving nod before turning back to the window. “Good. Now, go prepare yourself for the ball. Remember, the future of our kingdom rests on your shoulders.”

With a final bow, you leave his chambers, your composure intact until you’re out of sight. The moment you reach your own room, however, the dam breaks. You collapse onto your bed, tears streaming down your face as the weight of your father’s words crashes over you.

It’s not just the thought of marriage that tears at your heart—it’s the knowledge that you could never be with the one person you truly love. The unfairness of it all feels suffocating, as though you’re trapped in a cage with no escape.

The door to your chambers opens quietly, and you look up to see Karina standing there. Her expression shifts from concern to heartbreak when she sees you crying. She rushes to your side, kneeling beside you as she gently takes your hands in hers.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” she asks softly, her voice filled with worry. “What happened?”

You can barely speak through your sobs, but the words tumble out in a broken whisper. “It’s so unfair, Karina. My father… he wants me to marry Mark. He says it’s my duty to the kingdom, but… but what about us? Why can’t we be together?”

Karina’s jaw clenches, and you can see the anger flicker in her eyes. She pulls you into her arms, holding you tightly as if she can shield you from the pain of reality. “You’ll always have me, Y/N. I’ll be by your side, no matter what. And if it comes to it, I’ll run away with you. We can leave this place, start a new life where no one can tell us what we can or cannot be.”

You pull back slightly, looking into her eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. “You would do that for me?” you ask, your voice trembling.

Her eyes blaze with fierce determination as she cups your face in her hands. “I would do anything for you. I’d even get rid of anyone who stands in our way… even your father if it meant keeping you safe and happy.”

Your breath catches in your throat at her words, a surge of emotion overwhelming you. The world around you falls away, and all that matters is Karina—her love, her devotion, the way she makes you feel safe and cherished. Without thinking, you crash your lips against hers, the kiss filled with desperation and raw need.

Karina responds immediately, her arms wrapping around you as she deepens the kiss. You can feel the intensity in the way she holds you, as if she never wants to let go. Her hands begin to roam, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.

You break the kiss, panting as you look at her with a mix of longing and urgency. “Karina… I need you. Please…”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. In a blur of motion, she lifts you into her arms, carrying you over to the bed. She lays you down gently, her eyes dark with desire as she hovers over you. The sight of her above you, her hair falling like a curtain around your face, sends a shiver of anticipation through you.

“Are you sure?” she asks, her voice husky, though you can see the tenderness in her eyes.

You nod, your hands trembling as they reach for her. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With that, she kisses you again, her lips moving down your neck as her hands begin to undo the delicate ties of your gown. The fabric slips away, exposing your skin to the cool air and Karina’s burning touch. Her fingers trace over your curves, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as she explores every inch of you.

Your breaths become ragged as her hands move lower, teasing and caressing, until you’re a trembling mess beneath her. The composed princess, who stood so poised before her father, is gone. All that remains is a woman lost in the throes of passion, unable to hold back the moans and gasps that escape her lips.

“Karina… please…” you plead, your voice barely a whisper as you arch into her touch.

She doesn’t make you wait any longer. Her hand slips between your thighs, and you cry out at the sensation, your body reacting instantly to her touch. She watches you, her eyes filled with a mix of love and desire, as she brings you to the edge of ecstasy.

You can barely think, your mind clouded with pleasure as she continues to work her magic. Words fall from your lips, broken and breathless as you cling to her, your nails digging into her shoulders. “Karina… I… I’m…”

“Let go,” she murmurs against your skin, her voice soothing as she pushes you over the edge. “I’ve got you, Y/N. I’ll always have you.”

With a final cry, you shatter, your body trembling as waves of pleasure crash over you. Karina holds you through it, her touch never wavering as she guides you back down, her lips pressing gentle kisses to your flushed skin.

When it’s over, you collapse against her, your heart racing as you try to catch your breath. Karina pulls you close, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she whispers soothing words in your ear.

“You’re mine,” she whispers, her voice full of conviction. “And I’ll never let anyone take you from me.”

You smile weakly, feeling safe and cherished in her embrace. “And I’m yours,” you murmur, your voice filled with emotion. “Always”

——

The sun is beginning to set, casting a warm glow through the tall windows of your chambers. You stand before a large mirror, admiring the way your gown shimmers like stardust. The intricate embroidery catches the light, making you look like a vision of royalty. You smile softly at your reflection, but the flutter in your stomach isn’t just from the anticipation of the grand ball—it’s from the woman standing just behind you, her presence as electrifying as ever.

Karina, your ever-loyal knight, is supposed to be helping you get ready, but her touch lingers far longer than necessary, her hands wandering over the soft fabric of your dress and the bare skin of your shoulders. Her fingers trace delicate patterns on your back, her breath warm against your neck as she leans in close.

“You look stunning,” she murmurs, her voice thick with desire. “But you know, I could just as easily take this gown off you as I put it on.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at her words, and you bite your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “Karina,” you whisper, your voice trembling with both excitement and a hint of warning. “We don’t have time for this… the ball—”

“Let them wait,” she interrupts, her hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back against her. “You know how much I hate sharing you with them.”

You laugh softly, though it quickly turns into a quiet gasp as she presses a kiss to the nape of your neck, her lips lingering there. “Karina, please,” you try to protest, but your resolve is already weakening under her touch.

She turns you around to face her, her eyes dark with longing as they meet yours. “Do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you?” she asks, her voice low and husky. “To watch you parade around in front of all those nobles, pretending you belong to the kingdom when you’re mine?”

The possessiveness in her tone sends a thrill through you, and you can’t help the way your body responds to her, leaning into her touch. “I belong to you,” you whisper, your hands coming up to rest on her chest. “But we must be careful. If anyone finds out…”

She silences you with a deep, searing kiss, her hands sliding up to cup your face. The kiss is filled with a mix of frustration and need, her lips demanding as they move against yours. You melt into her, the worries about the ball and the court slipping away, replaced by the sheer intensity of her kiss.

When she finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, her forehead resting against yours. “I’ll never let anyone take you from me,” she vows, her voice rough with emotion. “You’re mine, Y/N. Only mine.”

Your heart swells at her words, and you nod, your hands tightening on her arms. “And I’m yours,” you reply, your voice soft but firm. “Now and always.”

She kisses you again, more gently this time, before reluctantly pulling away. “We should go,” she says, though the reluctance is clear in her voice. “Before I decide to keep you all to myself.”

You laugh softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You always know how to make me want to stay,” you tease, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping back.

Karina watches as you turn back to the mirror, her eyes never leaving you as you finish preparing. She helps you with the final touches, her fingers brushing against yours as she adjusts your necklace, her gaze filled with both love and longing.

“Are you ready, my princess?” she asks, her voice a soft whisper in your ear.

You nod, turning to face her once more. “As long as you’re by my side.”

She smiles, a rare, tender smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

——

The grand ballroom buzzes with life, the music resonating through the space as the elite of the kingdom whirl about in their finest attire. You, Princess Y/N, are the center of attention, as always. Tonight, you're dressed in a gown that shimmers like stardust, catching the light with every graceful movement you make. You smile and nod politely at the courtiers and nobles who bow as you pass, though your heart is elsewhere—focused on the one person who truly matters to you.

From across the room, you feel Karina's eyes on you. Your knight, ever vigilant, stands close to the shadows, her gaze never straying far from you. She’s always been your protector, your confidante, and now, your secret love. The bond you share is a hidden treasure, known only to the two of you, kept safe from the prying eyes of the court.

As you continue to circulate through the room, your attention is suddenly drawn to Prince Mark, who approaches with an easy confidence. His charm is well-known, and the look in his eyes tells you that tonight, his interest is solely on you.

“Your Highness,” he says with a smooth bow, his eyes gleaming as they meet yours. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

You hesitate for a brief moment, your thoughts flickering to Karina. But you know that you must accept; refusing him in front of the court could raise unnecessary questions. With a composed smile, you place your hand in his. “Of course, Your Grace.”

As the two of you begin to dance, Mark pulls you slightly closer, his grip firm but still within the bounds of propriety. The two of you move together effortlessly, and for those watching, you’re the perfect picture of royalty. Yet, there’s an unease in the pit of your stomach, a feeling that only grows as Mark’s gaze lingers on you longer than it should.

“Princess,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “you are even more beautiful up close than I imagined. It’s no wonder everyone speaks so highly of you.”

You offer a polite smile, keeping your expression neutral. “You flatter me, Your Grace.”

You nod, allowing him to lead you onto the dance floor. As you move together to the rhythm of the music, he watches you closely, his gaze intent. “You must have suitors from every corner of the kingdom, vying for your hand,” he begins, his voice low and intimate. “But I wonder, has anyone truly captured your heart?”

His question pulls at something deep inside you, and you can’t help but laugh softly, the sound tinged with the memory of the night before—a memory that flashes vividly in your mind.

---

It was late, the palace silent, the moonlight casting a soft glow through the curtains of your chambers. Karina, your loyal knight and secret lover, had entered your room with a look that sent a shiver down your spine. She closed the door behind her, sealing off the world outside, leaving only the two of you in the quiet intimacy of the night.

Without a word, she crossed the room, her eyes locked onto yours. You tried to maintain your composure, the grace and poise expected of a princess, but it all began to slip away the moment Karina reached you. She cupped your face in her hands, her touch gentle yet commanding, and leaned in to press her lips against yours in a kiss that was both tender and full of unspoken desire.

“Y/N,” she murmured against your lips, her voice a husky whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. “You drive me mad, you know that?”

You smiled against her mouth, your heart pounding in your chest. “And what do you plan to do about it, Karina?”

Her answer was to deepen the kiss, her hands moving to the laces of your gown, deftly untying them. “I’m going to make you mine,” she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. “I’m going to make you forget everything but me.”

You shivered at her words, a quiet moan escaping your lips as she pushed the gown from your shoulders, letting it pool at your feet. The cool air of the room brushed against your bare skin, but all you could focus on was Karina—her touch, her scent, the way she looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Karina,” you breathed, your hands finding their way to the hem of her tunic, tugging it over her head. “I need you.”

She groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as she kissed a path down your neck. “You’ll have me, Y/N,” she promised, her voice thick with need. “But first, I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say that you’re mine.”

You gasped as her hands roamed over your body, her fingers brushing over sensitive spots that made you arch into her touch. “I’m yours,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “I’m yours, Karina.”

She smiled against your skin, a wicked smile that made your pulse race. “That’s what I like to hear,” she murmured, her lips trailing down your collarbone, over the curve of your breast. Her hands gripped your hips, guiding you back until you were lying on the bed, her body hovering over yours.

“Tell me how much you want this,” she said, her voice low and commanding as she teased you with light touches, her fingers brushing over your thighs.

“I want this more than anything,” you moaned, your back arching as she continued to tease you, the ache between your legs growing with every passing second. “Please, Karina, don’t make me wait.”

She chuckled softly, a sound full of dark promise. “Oh, my princess, I won’t make you wait long,” she said, positioning herself between your legs. “But I need you to know that I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. Do you understand?”

You nodded frantically, your hands gripping the sheets as she finally entered you, a cry of pure pleasure escaping your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, her rhythm steady and deep, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

“Karina,” you gasped, your voice breaking as she moved inside you, the pleasure building with each thrust. “Oh, gods, Karina—”

“Louder,” she demanded, her voice rough with desire as she quickened her pace, her hands tightening on your hips. “I want to hear you scream my name, Y/N.”

And you did. The pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming to hold back. You screamed her name as she brought you to your peak, your body trembling beneath hers as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless and spent.

---

Back in the ballroom, Prince Mark’s words pull you back to the present, a soft, knowing smile tugging at your lips as you laugh lightly, your mind still lingering on the memory of Karina and the way she had completely unraveled you just hours ago.

The question catches you off guard, and for a split second, your mind flashes to Karina—her steady gaze, the way she always seems to understand you without a word. You quickly compose yourself, offering a practiced response. “As a princess, my duties to the kingdom come first, Prince Mark. Matters of the heart are secondary.”

Mark’s smile widens, but there’s a calculating edge to it. “Perhaps,” he says, leaning in just a fraction closer, “but even the most dutiful princess deserves someone who understands her, who can stand by her side through all challenges. I could be that person, Y/N.”

His use of your name, without the formal title, feels too intimate, too presumptuous. You maintain your composure, though inside, you can feel your frustration building. “Your Grace, you are kind to offer such sentiments, but I believe you overestimate your familiarity with me.”

Mark chuckles softly, undeterred by your cool response. “Perhaps, but I would very much like to change that. I see in you a strength, a wisdom that surpasses others of your rank. Together, we could do great things.”

The dance continues, but your thoughts are no longer on the music or the steps. You’re acutely aware of Karina, standing just out of sight, undoubtedly watching this interaction with a heavy heart. You glance briefly in her direction, catching her silhouette in the corner of your eye. The tension in her posture is unmistakable—she’s holding herself back, maintaining her knightly duty, but you know she’s struggling to keep her emotions in check.

As the music draws to a close, Mark tightens his grip on your hand slightly, as if he doesn’t want to let you go just yet. “Think about what I’ve said, Princess,” he says quietly, his tone sincere. “You deserve someone who sees you for who you truly are.”

You nod politely, withdrawing your hand as the dance ends. “I appreciate your words, Your Grace. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend to my other guests.”

Before Mark can respond, Karina appears at your side, her presence a reassuring balm to your frayed nerves. She bows slightly, her voice calm but with an edge of urgency. “Your Highness, may I have a word?”

You nod, grateful for the interruption. As you walk away from the crowded ballroom, you feel Karina’s hand brush against yours—a brief, hidden touch that sends warmth through your entire being. Once you’re alone in a secluded corridor, Karina turns to you, her eyes searching yours.

“Are you alright?” she asks, her voice filled with concern.

You nod, though the encounter with Mark has left you unsettled. “I’m fine, Karina. But he was… persistent.”

Karina’s jaw tightens, and you can see the storm brewing behind her usually composed exterior. “I don’t like the way he looks at you,” she admits, her voice low and filled with barely-contained jealousy. “He doesn’t know you like I do, and I won’t let him think he can have you.”

You reach out, gently placing your hand on her cheek. “And he won’t,” you assure her softly, leaning in until your lips meet hers in a tender, stolen kiss. “You’re the one I choose, Karina. Always.”

Karina’s breath catches, her eyes darkening with a mix of desire and possessiveness as your words sink in. She tightens her grip on your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other.

“Then show me,” she whispers, her voice rough with emotion, as if daring you to prove your devotion.

Your heart skips a beat at her command, the intensity in her gaze sending a shiver down your spine. Without another word, you quickly glance around to ensure no one is watching, then take her hand and lead her down the dimly lit corridor. Your steps are hurried, the anticipation and need driving you forward until you find a door to a private room—one that you know will offer the seclusion you both crave.

You push the door open, pulling Karina inside before shutting it behind you. The moment the door clicks shut, Karina is on you, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s both demanding and filled with raw passion. You respond with equal fervor, your hands tangling in her hair as you press your body against hers, needing to feel every inch of her.

She backs you up against the bed, her hands roaming over your curves, teasing the sensitive skin beneath your dress. You moan into her mouth as she grips your hips, lifting you slightly before laying you down on the bed. She hovers over you, her eyes devouring the sight of you laid out beneath her, your dress slipping off your shoulders to reveal more of your skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs, her voice filled with reverence as she dips her head to kiss along your neck. Her lips and teeth work in tandem, leaving a trail of marks that you know will be hidden by your gown later, but for now, they’re a claim—her claim—on you.

“Karina…” you gasp, your body arching into her touch as she works your dress down further, exposing your breasts to her hungry gaze. “Please… I need you.”

She growls low in her throat, one hand sliding down your body, pushing up the fabric of your skirts until her fingers find the slick heat between your thighs. “I’m yours, Y/N. Only yours,” she whispers before claiming your lips again, her fingers slipping inside you with ease, making you cry out.

The way she touches you, with both tenderness and urgency, sets your nerves on fire. You grip her shoulders, your hips bucking against her hand as she works you over, her thumb rubbing against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. But you need more—so much more.

“Karina,” you pant, your voice breathless as you pull her closer. “I want you inside me. Please… I need to feel you.”

She doesn’t hesitate. With a quick, deft motion, she undoes her belt and frees herself, her thick, throbbing cock springing to life. The sight of it sends a fresh wave of heat through your body, and you can’t help but reach out, your fingers wrapping around her shaft, feeling the way it twitches in your hand. She groans at your touch, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head as you stroke her a few times.

“Y/N…” she breathes, her voice strained with desire. “I need you.”

You release her, your hands shaking with anticipation as you pull her down to you, positioning her between your thighs. She lines herself up with your entrance, and you both let out a shared moan as she slowly pushes inside, stretching you in the most delicious way. Your back arches off the bed, your nails digging into her shoulders as she fills you completely.

“Oh god, Karina…” you whimper, your head falling back against the pillows as you feel her cock bulging in your stomach, the veins rubbing exquisitely against your inner walls.

She stills for a moment, allowing you both to adjust to the sensation. Her eyes are locked on yours, filled with a love so deep it nearly takes your breath away. “You’re so good to me,” she murmurs, her hands caressing your sides as she starts to move, her thrusts slow and deliberate. “How did I ever deserve you?”

Your heart swells at her words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you meet her thrusts, the pleasure building with each movement. “Karina… you’re perfect. I’m the one who’s lucky… so lucky…”

She kisses you again, her movements becoming more urgent, more frantic as the need to claim you, to make you hers, overwhelms her. You can feel every inch of her inside you, the way her cock drags against your walls, the way she seems to hit that perfect spot with every thrust. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure bordering on pain as she takes you higher and higher, until you’re both teetering on the edge.

“Karina… I’m close…” you gasp, your hands gripping her arms as you feel the coil in your belly tightening, ready to snap.

“Me too,” she groans, her hips slamming into yours as she chases her release. “I’m going to fill you up, Y/N… make you mine…”

“You’re so perfect,” Karina breathes, her voice rough with emotion as she begins to move in earnest. Her hips rock against yours, creating a rhythm that has you gasping and moaning with every thrust. “I want to fill you up with my babies, Y/N. I want you to feel me inside you, to know that you’re mine in every way.”

The words hit you like a wave, and you can barely process them through the haze of pleasure. The thought of Karina’s claim on you, her desire to leave a mark, sends shivers through your body, making your pleasure even more intense.

“Karina… please,” you moan, your hands clutching her shoulders as you try to keep your composure. “I… I want it.”

“That’s it,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear as she leans in closer. “Take it all, Y/N. I want to see you filled with my cum, to know that you’re carrying a part of me with you.”

Her words are almost too much to bear, adding an extra layer of urgency to her thrusts. You’re so lost in the pleasure that the thought of what she’s saying only intensifies the feeling. You moan loudly, your hips bucking against her as your climax draws near.

Karina’s thrusts become more frantic, her cock driving deeper, hitting all the right spots inside you. She reaches down, her hand finding your clit, rubbing it in tight circles to push you closer to the edge. “Come for me, Y/N,” she commands, her voice a low growl. “I want to feel you come around me, to know that you’re mine completely.”

The combination of her cock filling you and her fingers working magic on your clit sends you spiraling over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as your orgasm crashes through you. You can’t think, can barely breathe as the pleasure overwhelms you. “Karina… I’m c-coming…”

“Good girl,” she murmurs, her voice filled with pride and desire as she fucks you through your climax. She speeds up her thrusts, her cock pulsing inside you as she chases her own release. “I’m going to fill you up, Y/N. You’re going to be so full of me, you won’t be able to forget who owns you.”

The force of her words pushes you even further, your orgasm extending as she continues to pound into you, filling you with her cum. You can feel her release filling you, the warmth spreading through your core as she moans and groans, her thrusts becoming erratic as she reaches her peak.

Karina finally stills, her cock twitching inside you as she spills her seed, the heat and pressure almost overwhelming. She collapses beside you, pulling you close as you both try to catch your breath. The room is filled with the sound of your heavy breathing and the faint echoes of your shared pleasure.

“You’re mine,” Karina whispers, her voice a mix of satisfaction and tenderness as she wraps her arms around you. “All mine.”

“And I’m yours,” you reply, your voice filled with a contented sigh as you snuggle into her embrace. “

Her words send you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You scream her name, your body trembling as the pleasure consumes you, your inner walls clamping down around her cock.

The sensation is too much for Karina. With a guttural moan, she thrusts deep inside you one final time, her cock pulsing as she spills her hot seed into you, filling you to the brim. The warmth spreads through you, and you can feel her cum seeping out around her cock, coating your thighs in a sticky mess.

———

The moment is brief, but it’s enough to reaffirm what you both know in your hearts. You pull back just as the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway. With a shared look of understanding, you both step back into your roles—princess and knight, lovers hidden in plain sight.

“Tonight, we play our parts,” you say quietly, giving her one last lingering look before you return to the ballroom. “But never forget, it’s you who holds my heart.”

As you rejoin the festivities, Karina watches from the sidelines, her protective gaze never leaving you. And while the world may see you as a princess without a suitor, you both know the truth—a love that runs deeper than duty, hidden beneath the moonlight.

The grand ballroom is alive with laughter and the soft strains of music, guests swirling around in their finest attire. You move through the crowd, your thoughts occupied with the evening's complex dynamics and your secret affair with Karina.

After your quiet, intimate moment with Karina in the hallway, you return to the ballroom, your heart lightened by her presence and the secret you both share.

You exchange fleeting glances with Karina, whose eyes remain steadfast and watchful from the sidelines.

Just as you're about to engage in conversation with a group of nobles, Mark approaches you again. This time, his demeanor is more earnest, and he catches your hand gently, guiding you to a quieter side of the room.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice carrying a note of earnest sincerity. “I have something important to ask you.”

You look up at him, sensing the gravity of the moment. “What is it, Your Grace?”

Mark’s gaze is steady and filled with emotion. He reaches into his pocket and produces a small, elegant box. With a deep breath, he opens it to reveal a sparkling engagement ring. “Princess Y/N, I know that our time together has been short, but in it, I have seen the depth of your heart and the strength of your character. I cannot imagine my future without you by my side.”

He drops to one knee, his eyes locked on yours. “Will you marry me?”

The room seems to freeze around you. Mark’s proposal hangs in the air, the weight of his words heavy and poignant. The unexpectedness of the moment leaves you breathless, a thousand thoughts racing through your mind.

As you open your mouth to respond, a soft touch on your arm makes you turn. Karina’s presence, though discreet, is unmistakable. Her eyes, filled with a mix of pain and determination, meet yours across the room.

Mark’s gaze is unwavering, waiting for your answer, while Karina’s look speaks volumes—a silent plea, a promise of unspoken love.

Oh fuck.