#and refuse to leave the area without him

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets Day 29: Singing

cw: aftermath of/referenced torture and captivity

previous

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 665

=~=~=

Benji hummed quietly from the spare bed, an open paperback on his knee, words neglected and unread. It felt weird to watch Sahota sleep, but he couldn't take his eyes away. Every little shift, every change in breathing spiked his nerves. He was healing now, filling in, looking almost healthy, but he still wore the remnants of his weeks in the cell.

They'd almost been too late. Benji couldn't shake that. He'd still been recovering when Joy and Jer finally found Sahota, bedbound for almost a week after his own horrible ordeal, but it all felt so small when they'd carried him in.

He'd been almost skeletal, bruised up and unconscious, his torso wrapped in a hasty bandage that was oozing blood from everywhere. Benji didn't need to be in the medbay anymore by the time they got to him, but he'd moved back in anyway. Couldn't leave him alone for a second, couldn't let him wake up to being alone, because that had sure fucked him up the first few nights, and—

Sahota coughed in his sleep, and a zap went through Benji's nerves at the sound. His eyes went to the man's face, scanning for anything wrong, seeing nothing but an expression that looked almost peaceful.

Okay. Good.

He continued humming, a little louder now in an effort to calm his nerves. 

The summers die, one by one. How soon they fly…

Yeesh. Maybe a little on the nose.

Good morning Baaaltimore, every day's like an ooopen door—

“Y’singing?”

Benji nearly jumped out of his skin. He hadn't realized Sahota was awake. Had he woken with the cough? Or before it? Had Benji woken him up?

“Uh. Humming,” he answered. “So kind of?”

“Mm.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Benji found himself holding way too still. He was a little irritated that he couldn't tell if it was residual jitters from his stint in the cell or just regular awkwardness.

Sahota was the one to break the silence.

“You don't have to stop.”

“Yeah?” It was all he could think to say in the moment.

“Better than silence.”

Yeah. He got that much. Humming and singing under his breath had been the only way he could comfort himself, especially once they started leaving the bag on. His captors didn't like it, but it was the one thing he kept coming back to, even after they'd hit him for it a few times. Silence was a killer.

“Any requests?” he said lightly. 

“Anything you want,” Sahota responded, shifting against his pillows. 

“Hope you like showtunes.”

The other man let out a quiet chuckle, and Benji smiled at the sound. “Sure. You know the Flintstones theme?”

He had to keep himself from busting out laughing. The man was bedbound, he had to cut him some slack here. “That's not what I mean by showtunes,” he said. “I'm thinking more along the lines of Broadway musicals.”

Sahota's eyebrows went up slightly, though his eyes remained closed. “I liked The Lion King. Does that count?”

“The musical?”

“No, the cartoon. Is there a musical?”

This time, Benji did laugh. “Oh, you have a lot to learn.”

“Are you planning on teaching me?”

“I can go on for hours if that's what you want.”

“Beats listening to my own heartbeat.”

“Then don't say I didn't warn you.” Fuck, he wanted to launch into something fun, perform a one-man Wicked, find a way to bring the life back into Sahota---and introduce a hardcore spy man to Broadway, to boot.

But they were both exhausted, and killing silence didn't mean getting loud, not right away.

“Let me take you back to the musical that started it all,” he said. “For me, at least.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise not to laugh.”

A chuckle. “Cross my heart.”

Benji took a breath. It had been ages since he'd sang for an audience, even an audience of one. But right now, this felt like something they both needed.

“Memory, turn your face to the moonlight. Let your memory lead you, open up, enter in…”

[sadbicth]

elon musk did a nazi salute twice at the inauguration, and republicans are defending him.

trump revoked executive order 11246, which prohibited discrimination.

trump put all dei employees on leave to be fired.

trump blamed the dc plane crash on dei.

trump banned all lgbtq+ flags from being hung in government buildings.

trump ordered the pentagon to cancel celebration of mlk jr. day, black history month, women's history month, holocaust remembrance day, asian american pacific islander heritage month, lgbtq+ pride month, juneteenth, women's equality day, national hispanic heritage month, national disability employment awarenessmonth, and national american indian heritage month.

trump proposed removing all palestinians from gaza, turning the area into a vacation resort called “riviera of the middle east”.

trump posted an ai generated video showing what he hopes to turn palestine into, with a large golden statue of himself in the middle of it.

trump rolled back biden’s executive order to lower prescription drug costs for people using medicare and medicaid.

trump rescinded the $35 cap on insulin, and prices are expected to rise to $1500 a month.

trump ordered the national institutes of health to cancel their review panels on cancer research.

trump ended the guidelines to prevent ai misuse. the guidelines prevent many things, but notably it prevents production of ai child pornography.

when sean hannity asked trump about the economy, he said “i don’t care”, after campaigning with the economy as his main talking point.

trump has withdrawn the us from the world health organization.

trump is ordering health agencies to stop reporting on bird flu and halt publications of scientific reports.

trump’s epa is reversing the ban on asbestos, which causes deadly and rapidly-spreading cancer if exposed.

trump has pardoned over 1500 people who stormed the capitol on january 6th.

trump changed denali back to mount mckinley.

trump signed an executive order to rename the gulf of mexico to gulf of america.

trump shut down cbp one, an app which granted legal entry to 1 million+ immigrants.

trump has discussed introducing a “gold card”, which would allow the wealthiest people to buy us citizenship for $5 million usd.

trump is allowing ice raids at churches and elementary schools.

trump announced plans to declare a national emergency at the us-mexico border.

trump signed an executive order to expand the use of the death penalty.

trump disbanded the school safety board that works to prevent school shootings. it was comprised of survivors, educators, and gun violence prevention advocates and formed after the school shooting in parkland.

trump has threatened to invade panama to claim the panama canal.

trump withdrew from the paris climate act.

trump revoked all protections for transgender troops in the us military.

trump rescinded executive orders made by biden that benefited and protected women, lgbtq+ people, black americans, hispanic americans, asian americans, native hawaiians, and pacific islanders.

trump bombed iran 3 times without congressional approval.

trump is attempting to make it legal to refuse to hire or fire pregnant women.

trump pardoned 23 individuals convicted under the freedom of access to clinic entrances (FACE) act for their anti-abortion activism, including oftentimes violent protests at abortion clinics.

trump signed an executive order allowing deportation of foreign students who they believe express support for hamas or hezbollah.

trump announced that the us government will from here on out only recognize male and female as sexes. intersex is not legally recognized anymore.

trump is shutting down the lgbtq+ youth suicide hotline in july.

trump has told all schools and universities that they have two weeks to end all diversity initiatives, or he will cut federal funding. (as of feb 19, 2025)

trump told harvard to stop accepting immigrant students.

trump fired the staff of the federal aviation association after a deadly plane crash in dc.

trump has fired the heads of the tsa and coast guard, and gutted a key aviation safety advisory committee.

trump denied disaster relief funding for north carolina after tropical storm helene.

in georgia, a black woman named adriana smith is being kept alive on ventilators because she was 9 weeks pregnant when she died. she is legally brain dead. this was an exact plot in multiple episodes of the handmaid’s tale.

the state of louisiana just rolled back desegregation laws because of a petition from the department of justice.

the trump administration removed the federal government’s memorial to victims of gun violence. they took down 120 portraits of dead americans, including police officers and children.

the supreme court weakened the clean water act's limitations on raw sewage discharge into our water in a 5-4 ruling.

the official white house twitter account posted an “illegal alien deportation” asmr video where they did closeups of chains and the sound of ankle chains hitting the metal stairs of the airplanes deportees were being loaded onto.

on truth social, trump posted, “LONG LIVE THE KING!”.

at CPAC, a republican group called the “third term project” held a rally to support changing the constitution so trump can run for a third term. on their posters, they’re photoshopping his face onto julius caesar’s, seemingly forgetting what happened to julius caesar.

the trump administration paused health communications to prevent the fda from announcing food recalls.

the trump administration will not renew biden-era grants worth $1 billion that were aimed at boosting mental health services in schools.

the u.s. has surpassed 1,000 measles cases for the first time in five years, with 96% involving unvaccinated individuals or those with unknown vaccination status. rfk jr. has repeatedly claimed that measles can be treated with vitamin a.

republicans on tiktok are recreating elon’s salute to prove that it “wasn’t a nazi salute”, and they’re either doing it completely wrong because they know if they replicate it then it will actually be a salute, or they’re doing the proper salute and posting it online.

google and apple maps now display the gulf of mexico as “gulf of america”.

rfk jr. wants to ban SSRIs and put everyone on them into labor camps.

multiple state legislators are drafting bills to allow the punishment for abortion to be the death penalty.

andy ogles drafted a constitutional amendment to allow trump to be president for a third term.

the us senate confirmed russell vought, one of the main authors of project 2025, will lead the white house budget office.

nancy mace repeatedly used the t-slur during a congressional meeting, three times were out of spite.

andy biggs introduced a bill to abolish osha and completely eliminate federal workplace safety protections.

georgia republican congressman mike collins called for the deportation of new jersey born mariann budde, the bishop who urged trump to “have mercy” on the lgbtq+ community and immigrants during a service at the national cathedral.

florida republican anna paulina luna has introduced a bill to add trump to mount rushmore.

new york republican claudia tenney introduced a bill to make trump’s birthday a federal holiday.

west virginia republican delegate lisa white has introduced house bill 2712, which would remove rape and incest as exceptions for abortion, even for minors. you can call her at (304) 340- 3274 or email her at lisa.white@wvhouse.gov and let her know your opinion on that.

there is a bill named the SAVE act which would require americans to provide their birth certificate, passport, or other citizenship documents every time they vote, and would require the last name on their driver’s license to match that of their birth certificate. this would prevent married women who have changed their last name from voting.

the u.s. government is considering suspending habeas corpus, which protects people from unlawful detention and ensures you receive due process.

bill h.r.1161, which is available publicly on congress.gov, would authorize trump to enter into negotiations to acquire greenland and to rename it to "red, white, and blueland".

six states (arizona, idaho, iowa, kansas, mississippi, and north dakota) are planning on challenging obergefell v. hodges, which would end same-sex marriage nationwide. about a dozen more states have representatives are also considering filing similar resolutions.

a bill to ban the mRNA vaccine has passed out of the house committee.

amazon revoked protections for lgbtq+ and black employees.

the cdc has removed their hiv prevention page.

the united states state department has officially changed its “travelers with special conditions” page which previously said “lgbtqi+ travelers” to “lgb travelers”, completely getting rid of the tqi+.

every single republican told us we were overreacting. trump swore he had nothing to do with project 2025 yet continues implementing details outlined in it. not a single person has the right to tell us we’re being dramatic anymore.

hope “cheaper eggs and gas” was worth it.

EDIT: i removed the “trump refused to swear on the bible” point because it was being taken as me being an offended christian. i’m not christian, im agnostic. the reason i included it in the first place is because he’s the first president in history to ever refuse to swear on ANYTHING. meanwhile his “conservative christian” followers had no issue with this, and decided to continue to scramble for excuses instead of admitting he may not be as religious as he claims he is. i figured taking that point out entirely is probably better than filling this with an explanation in the middle of the other important issues.

[f1lovr]

SILLY SUPERSTITIONS | LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the one where she doesn't believe in superstitions or otherwise known as he can't get into the car without his pre-race kiss

warnings: none!

Y/N didn't believe in superstitions, rather she thought they were stupid, lando on the other hand, he was a firm believer.

it had started as a joke between you both.

"kiss in exchange for a podium?" you had told him in a teasing manner, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before the race.

"guess we'll figure that out soon enough," he had said in response, a smirk dawning his face as you could feel the confidence coming from him.

he finished in second that race, he had insisted it was your kiss and from there he refused to get into the car until he got a kiss from you, saying he wouldn't do well or he couldn't drive without it, as if it would make him a better driver.

that led to here, minutes away from lando having to get into the car, you nowhere in sight.

the mechanics and engineers were rushing around him, last minute checks on the car, making sure everything was good before the race. the cheer of the fans from the stands as they wait for the impending race.

but lando couldn't focus, not on the race ahead of him, not even on the sounds around him, because you weren't there and he needed you to be because he hadn't gotten his kiss yet.

lando's leg was bouncing up and down nervously as his head scanned the surrounding area looking for any sign of you. his mind being consumed with thoughts about where you could be, about the fact that he might have to go into today's race without you, without his good luck kiss.

his mutters to himself broke his silence, "where is she?"

jon, his trainer, who was next to him turned and looked at him with furrowed brows as he heard the muttering coming from the driver, "who?"

lando's head turned to jon, a look being shot at his trainer as if his answer was obvious, "Y/N, i need her here but i don't know where she is."

jon smirked at lando's answer, "ah, so you mean you need your lucky charm?"

lando didn't deny jon's comment, his eyes only rolling in response, "she should be here by now, she's never this late," he mutters nervously.

jon's eyes fall to the watch at his wrist checking the time, "you've got three minutes mate."

he had three minutes. three minutes to somehow find you in the chaos that is the race or he'd have to go get in the car and race without the one thing that kept him from botching it turn one.

he was about to get up and leave when his ears perked up at a voice, not just a voice, but your voice.

"looking for me pretty boy?"

he could have gotten whiplash with how fast he had turned his head, watching as you walk up to, nothing but a casual nature in your step as if you didn't know the chaos you had caused with your absence.

"baby where the hell have you been?" he all but demanded.

"easy tiger, i got stuck, security guards and journalists kept harping on me. all of them acting like i was infiltrating the FIA instead of just trying to get to my boyfriend," you giggle with a grin, his reaction to your disappearance amusing.

lando didn't care, he could care less about why you weren't here actually, it was all just excuses to him. but you were here now and that was all that mattered to him as his hand grabbed your wrist pulling you close to him, the glances that were being thrown his way being ignored.

"i almost had to go into the race without you," he mutters, a tone so low that only you were able to pick it up.

"you wouldn't have let that happen," your hands coming to his shoulders as you smirk.

lando huffed as his lips twitched, the smile he was trying to hold back failing to stay hidden, "you have never been more right about something love."

next thing you know he was pulling you into a kiss, the kiss being soft and gentle but still firm. he didn't rush his kiss, taking the reassurance it provided as he let himself calm down from the storm of not having you.

he pulled away with a grin on his face, "now i won't crash turn one," he said with a chuckle.

your head shook as you laughed, "whatever makes you sleep at night pretty boy," you giggle out.

your moment was broken by the call of lando's engineer, letting lando know it was time to get in the car.

you watched as he let go of your hand with a sigh after giving it one last parting squeeze, reluctantly stepping back from you as he moved to climb into his car.

you were leaned against the garage watching as he settled. you could tell he was focused, he was ready, and you would never let him live it down if he got on the podium, reminding him over and over that it was your kiss that got him there.

did you actually believe that? no, definitely not, but if it meant more pre-race kisses and it helped him, then you'd remind him over and over.

[coffee-and-geto]

waxing time with your boyfriend. ryomen sukuna (sfw)

cw: fluff, crack, sukuna is too confident.

After yet another groan of pain, you rip off the strip of hard wax from your inner thigh. “Fuck…” you curse.

The wax has gripped all your hairs well, and you raise an amused eyebrow, holding the strip up to the light to observe the satisfying bulb pulled out from the root. Waxing has always been a monthly routine for you, a way to maintain your body to feel good with smooth, soft skin — and not to please your boyfriend who clearly doesn't care about your body hair.

And you thank him for that.

Sukuna is not the kind of boyfriend who complains or cares about your appearance. While many partners refuse to have sex with their girlfriends over body hair, knowing that Sukuna is not one of them soothes your nerves when his angry/irritated side shows. You even accept closing your eyes when he yells from the other end of the apartment that he's hungry and wants his “woman” to make him some food.

With a smirk, you stir a wooden stick to mix and then take some more wax from your wax warmer. The next strip is inevitably painful, located along the bikini line. The particularly sensitive and thin skin around this area never fails to elicit a squeal of pain when you rip the hairs from this spot.

And that’s exactly what happens.

Your sharp cry of pain catches the attention of your boyfriend, who stomps into the room, growling. He leans against the doorway and crosses his tattooed arms over his chest. “What is it now, woman?”

“I rustle up a magic potion,” you reply tartly.

Without leaving the room once, you finish waxing your bikini line, one hand armed with a cold compress pressed against the irritated, slightly reddened areas.

Sukuna steps over the distance between you and lowers his nose towards your wax warmer to sniffle it. “This is really a stupid thing humans have invented.” He rolls his eyes.

“Well, this ‘thing’ hurts a lot,” you clarify, hopping in place because the irritation annoys you, and the best way you’ve found to cope is to hop around to distract yourself.

“Pfff. You’re just an overdramatic crybaby. It can’t hurt that much.”

Your eye twitches and a vein bulges on your temple. “Oh yeah?”

A few minutes later...

“THIS IS SORCERY! GET IT OFF ME!” Sukuna yells, one foot propped on the edge of the bed with a long pink wax strip along his hairy calf.

On your side, you’ve been laughing uncontrollably for a good five minutes, tears in your eyes and your stomach almost painfully contracted from laughing.

“STOP LAUGHING, WOMAN! I’LL KILL YOU!”

And as you’re about to pull the wax strip, you grip the lip with your fingertips to yank it off sharply.

Sukuna lets out a scream as high-pitched as a little girl’s or a bat’s while your even louder laughter echoes in the room.

[derpy-dogs-n-cats]

Dealing With A Marechi S/O On Her Period.

Main Masterlist

KNY Masterlist

Muzan Kibutsuji, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: Blood, smut, sexual themes, oral sex; female receiving, oral sex during period, face sitting, mentions about fingering, drinking blood, eating human flesh.

Summary: Headcanons on the upper three and Muzan helping a marechi s/o through her period while keeping their stomachs full.

W/C: 2.5k+

In the time you’d been together, he had yet to smell your blood, it was hard enough to be placed in the situation when he always made sure you weren’t injured whenever he was around, and as such a high-ranking demon, he lacked the privilege to spend as much time with you as wanted, so the timings hadn’t lined properly for him to be present during your period either, but when they finally did without you being aware of your unique type of blood, to say the least, neither of you were ready.

Muzan Kibutsuji

Takes full advantage of the situation.

Has to take a step back to steady himself the first time he smells you.

Is initially worried you’re injured at first.

Plays his cards right and shows initial concern despite your body doing a normal biological function.

Is more physically affectionate to get you to lower your guard even more.

Gets you to admit out loud that you’re in physical pain.

Suggests helping you ease the pain.

Had never buried his face between your legs before.

Was actually kind of sexist about it and would’ve felt inferior if he placed your legs on either side of his head, because why would the demon king do that?

Still tried to refuse but smelling your marechi blood didn’t help.

Having a monthly supply of marechi blood sounded tempting enough.

So he suggests easing your pain.

Surprises you by finally spreading your legs after laying between them.

Keeps you around him for the entirety of the week.

Takes you wherever he needs to go to keep you close.

But never near any demons.

If necessary, he has Kokushibo watch over you.

Doesn’t necessarily refuse to not have you in his presence.

But refuses to leave you alone and unguarded for other demons to try and eat you.

Knows that Kokushibo won’t even consider so much as laying a finger at you.

Still refuses to get on his knees for you.

You always have to lay down for him.

Forbids you from wearing anything under your kimono to have easier access.

Instantly smells whenever your blood’s about to stain the expensive fabric of your kimono.

Licks you clean every time he smells you starting to bleed.

Which is multiple times throughout the day.

As soon as you express being relieved from the pain, he uses it as an excuse.

Prefers you thinking he genuinely and solely wants to care for his favorite human rather than admitting that he needs to feed like any living creature.

Because he refuses to so much as get on his knees for you, he obviously even more so refuses to have you sit on his face.

Not even hover.

If you ever suggest it, he’ll give you the meanest side eye and refuse to speak to you for days.

Still will not eat you out outside of your period.

The moans entering Muzan’s ears easily sounded different than usual, similar to the first time he had you take his heavy cock in your lower area, where he was currently lapping at you for the first time with half lidded eyes in a relaxed expression while laying on his stomach for you, hands on either of your thighs which obediently remained spread open for him with ease due to how the rest of your body had fallen limp upon the first lick.

He had his doubts at first, but he had to admit, it’s awfully convenient to have a marechi lover who was so willing to hike up the expensive kimono and spread open the legs beneath it to allow him to feed rather than having to go through the trouble of going out of his way for people to eat. A louder moan fills the room as he dips his tongue inside your sensitive opening after having licked clean your labia.

A shaky hand reaches for his hair in attempt to pull him closer only to be pushed away rather gently by the man at your thighs. Normally, he would’ve slapped away the hand because despite actually bearing affection for you, how dare you try to command him in any way, however, he supposes the meal you’re offering him is enough for him to turn a blind eye to your insolence… once.

Kokushibo

Very concerned for your health when he finds out.

Initially thinks you’re injured upon smelling your blood for the first time.

Takes a second (one too long in his opinion) to regain his composure after the scent of your blood makes him feel dizzy.

The opposite of Muzan.

Has eaten you out before.

And doesn’t mind doing it.

Genuinely suggests relieving your pain for your benefit.

Takes great pride in taking care of you.

Hardly even thinks of you as a source of food with how much he prioritizes easing your pain.

But does acknowledge that you’re keeping him well fed.

Another one that keeps you with him every time you’re on your period (they all do).

Doesn’t think much about if he likes or not getting on his knees for you.

But knows your height differences would make it a bit uncomfortable.

And prefers you lay down for your own comfort.

Will also eat you out whenever he smells blood on the way.

Enjoys doing so but does it mainly for your safety as to not attract any demons.

Doesn’t just drink your blood but also plays with your clit to actively give you orgasms to counter your cramps.

Gently rubs your lower stomach to further help with your cramps.

Or grazes it very lightly with his fingertips to give you goosebumps if he’s in a teasing mood.

Slows the pace after each orgasm as to not overstimulate you before picking it up again.

Overall treats you like a porcelain doll.

Would give you a break if you asked.

Even if you’re still bleeding

So long as you’re always close to him so he can keep you safe.

Soft gentle tugs to your clit force heavy breaths out through your nose, the occasional pinch making you clench around the soft pink tongue moving along your insides with your back tensing and arching off the futon briefly before a hand gently pushes down your stomach to press you back against the fabric beneath you in attempt to get you to relax, the tongue carefully moving back and forth as to not overwhelm your sensitive insides.

His eyes peek open when he feels your legs starting to tremble on either side of his face, the hand over your lower stomach carefully rubbing over the skin doing little to soothe you, his first pair of eyes looking at you due to your different than usual movements, unable to read any expression from your head being thrown back. “Are you alri-” He’s interrupted by your body falling limp against him and the unmistakable noise of you hitting your orgasm.

He’s quick to react and have his fingers gently rub at your clit, slowly licking over your leaking opening, his reasoning settling on your different reactions being from your current sensitive state. His eyes fall back shut again without his own hands failing to continue their ministrations, set on taking care of you and making sure you’re carefully brought back down from your own high as to not overstimulate you while you let him eat his fill.

Douma

Doesn’t even occur to him that you might be injured.

Knows that he would’ve been notified if you’d been injured.

Also takes full advantage of the situation.

Absolutely delighted to find out you’re a marechi.

He’s been surrounded by plenty women before and has eaten enough to know what a period is obviously.

As well as eaten marechi women before.

But has never stumbled upon a marechi woman on her period.

Is baffled that it never occurred to him to keep a marechi woman by his side for a monthly supply.

Immediately asks to feed off of you rather than asking to help with your cramps.

Used to have you on him 97% of times, now it’s 100%.

Eats you out wherever, whenever and however.

Very vocal about it.

Constant praises on your taste.

Gets actually hungry while tasting you.

But remembers that you’re a fragile human who he genuinely enjoys having around and therefore would rather not hurt you.

So he treats you as an appetizer instead.

And proceeds to eat one of the other women around after you’ve stopped bleeding.

Keeps you on him under every circumstance.

Even if Muzan calls him over.

Promises to do as Muzan says and be on his best behavior which he actually fulfills much to Muzan’s surprise.

If you were to actually be apart from him, he would ask in all seriousness for you to save your blood for him for later in a jar.

Another one who would forbid you from wearing anything under your kimono.

Probably forbids you from doing so even when you aren’t on your period.

Doesn’t even warn you when he smells you starting to bleed and immediately goes under your kimono.

If there’s anyone nearby when you start bleeding, immediately orders them to leave.

For your sake.

If it were up to him, he’d bury his face between your legs right then and there.

Messy eater.

Will definitely take you on his beanbag.

Will treat your period (as well as your fucking sessions) like some type of bingo or a list that needs to have locations where he’s taken you crossed off.

You feel yourself sink further into the large pillow beneath you with your legs kept hiked to your chest, loud continuous moans coming from the blonde between said legs, the incessant noises coming from him having won long ago against your own. A slight shift of your body moves your untied kimono further open with it finally slipping off your breasts and exposing your nipples to the cold air, the elegant fabric bunching around your torso between the folds of the pillow.

“Ohh, you taste just heavenly my darling.” Douma smiles after lifting his head from your bloodied messy folds, letting you take in the sight of his chin drenched in your blood, fluids starting to trickle down to his neck followed by his tongue swiping across it. “Now sit pretty for me and let me eat…” He coaxes in a low tone while slowly lowering himself, continuing to delve his tongue into your opening.

While a knot started to form in the pit of your stomach, the hollow filling in the pit of Douma’s own stomach started to grow, tempting him with having more than just a taste of your blood, but he couldn’t, he’d never forgive himself. He shuts down his thoughts and instead licks you with more vigor, his mind wandering to other women who he’d much rather eat before you, maybe the one who’d been just slightly less polite than usual when attending you, maybe she’d be able to satiate his hunger for a while.

Akaza

Is terrified when he smells your blood for the first time.

Especially when he notices what type of blood it is.

Immediately assumes the worst.

Thanks whatever higher power there is when he sees you’re fine.

Gets headaches from trying to keep himself in control.

And still refuses to leave you alone.

Absolutely would never under any circumstances let Douma get remotely near you regardless of whatever situation you’re in.

Would never suggest eating you out to relieve the pain because he doesn’t want you to think he’s using you for food

But wouldn’t blatantly tell you no if you asked.

Would need a lot of convincing to say yes.

Would be really worried because what if he accidentally hurts you.

Is also worried that what if he genuinely gets hungry while trying to make you feel better.

Would be very hesitant due to his rule against eating women.

But tries to convince himself it’s alright because he’s not actually eating you.

Because he secretly is very curious and tempted to try it out.

Finally says yes when your cramps get unbearable.

Absolutely loses it upon his first taste.

Would already eat you out regularly for his own pleasure.

But would do it with dignity composure.

Now gets overly pussy drunk.

Doesn’t stop even after you’re clean.

Just continues while waiting for the next wave of blood.

Eats you out like a starved animal when you’re on your period.

Another messy eater.

Doesn’t leave your side for your safety.

And your mutual pleasure.

Would enjoy you sitting on his face.

But fails to notice how he refuses to let you leave your seat once you’ve sat.

Despite eating you out mostly for his own pleasure, doesn’t forget yours and uses his fingers to give you as many orgasms as he can as a thanks for keeping him fed.

Has no shame in licking his fingers clean in front of you.

Makes sure to still give you plenty of head regularly after your period so you don’t feel like he just sees you as food.

Would wonder in the back of his head if your blood alone can make him strong enough to surpass the other upper ranks.

Would be damned if Douma found out what he’s doing.

“Are you su-” “Yes.” Akaza’s quick to respond, trying to hold himself back from yanking you down, instead, gently guiding you lower to take a seat on his face. It’d been a few cycles since he finally started eating you out during your period and in that time, he’d grown addicted, though that would be an understatement. And though he still much enjoyed spending his days face buried between your legs even outside your cycle, during was something far preferable.

In the last few times he’d helped you through your difficult time of the month, he started feeling as though it wasn’t enough, no, rather he wanted more, and so he suggested something new, something you’d never know if he’d thought about himself, seen somewhere or heard of. Once you feel your lower area come into contact with him a sigh escapes you with his tongue starting to move along you, pressing over your clit, licking between your folds, circling your opening and licking clean every crevice.

He continues to suffocate himself in the intoxicating smell of your blood and decides it still isn’t enough, not with you hovering. A yelp leaves your mouth at the sudden yank of your legs being pulled upward folded against each other by a pair of strong hands with you falling completely sat on Akaza’s face, a muffled moan heard from under you pulling your gaze toward him, taking in the expression of his eyes rolled to the back of his head while his tongue invaded your insides, refusing to stop tasting you.

[sigilcatt]

Hii

Sebastian x Reader where they don't have enough data so they just ask if they can pay w/ a kissy?

zomg this is so cute???

{reader is GN}

So far, the totality of this expedition sucked.

Signing up to fetch some stupid crystal for your freedom sounded like a flawless idea, sure. If you dismissed the plethora of creatures making an effort to kill you along the way. (Not like the people who sent you here cared, mind you.) You were chastised for any mistakes, even though they refused to even inform you about the opposing dangers to begin with. It was more of an…inconvenience if you happened to fail.

Regardless, between having to avoid possesed lockers, shadowy figures, and whatever those god-awful anglers were, you thought you were pretty damn good at this.

You’d managed to stay alive so far, approaching yet another door, this one marked “43.”

Hopefully this one would be easier than the last..

Gently slipping a thin, blue keycard inside the reader that had been installed into the door, waiting for it to hiss open with a scowl on your face. The door parted and swept aside, revealing yet another dark hallway before you.

Dammit, You thought with a groan, fumbling around in your bag to retrieve your flashlight. It was already low on juice, and of course, you had no batteries on you. Just your luck. Shaking it awake, the warm golden light illuminated the absolute mess of the corridor; large crates looked as if they’d been violently thrown across the room, one even appeared to have left minor damage to one of the many thick pipes lining the walls to your left.

Plus the considerable ragged clawmarks that laced the floor, but it was better to ignore those, no?

Taking a few deep breaths, you forced yourself to stray deeper into the space, your light scanning over each and every crevice. You weren’t about to risk letting anything jump out at you.

Except for the vent grille, apparently.

An earsplitting smash reverberated throughout the chambers as it rammed against the nearby wall, bouncing back for a mere second before collapsing onto the floor.

“What the hell-?!”

Out of shock, you dropped your flashlight, the generous amount of light you’d been given now gone as it rolled away from your feet. As you scrambled to pick it back up, a voice echoed through the vent opening.

“Got something for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at the small gap, quickly realizing who it was with frustation bubbling in your gut.

Sebastian. That 10ft sea monster that lingered around these areas, offering you useful supplies in exchange for data. You rolled your eyes with a sigh as you got on your knees, wincing with discomfort as you made your way through the vent to see him.

Of course it was him. Who else would it be? As much as he annoyed you with his unwarranted attitude and sass, he was still…nice to be around. Made things less lonely.

“Ah, you, welcome back.” He greeted, though of course laced his voice with sarcasm. “Really thought you’d be dead by now.”

“I’m more capable than you think, Seb,” You retorted, crossing your arms as you glared up at him, almost actually insulted he doubted you.

His long, grey, scaly tail sat curled against the wall, his selling items neatly attached to it. He scowled right back at you, demonstrating his usual toothy grin as his fins twitched slightly. “Sure.” He hissed softly.

You ignored him, browsing his wares with tired eyes. You approached his tail, ripping off a silvery flashlight and examining it. Without a second thought, you stuffed it into your bag and began to leave.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian scoffed. Abruptly, his wide tail clasped over the vent opening, preventing you from leaving. “You haven’t paid. You must actually be stupid, huh?”

“You owe me!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms into the air. “You scared me and made me drop my first flashlight. Now its’ broken, thanks.”

“Oh dear, really?” Sebastian hissed, feigning concern in his voice.

You groan in frustration as the sarcasm hit you, yanking your bag open to find any data you’d collected along the way. You were hoping to get this interaction over with, if he was going to be this sassy.

“Oh..damn..”

You stared into your palms, which held a few scraps of data, some of which were even broken during your travels. Whatever it was, you definetly did not carry enough to afford anything.

Sebastian laughed softly, seemingly observing this as well. “Too bad, then. That’s really embarrassing, I might add.”

“Wait, seriously?!” You clamored, desperate to leave here with something. “I can figure something out!”

“We had a deal. One you agreed to, in case you forgot. Either you pay, or you get nothing, sweetheart.” He added the taunting nickname with a scoff, reaching to take your bag from you.

You leapt away, knowing he’d tear it to pieces with his claws, even if he was trying to be gentle. Which he wasn’t, of course, but still.

“Wait, wait, I can-” You protested. An idea struck you suddenly. Not a very easy one, but it was something, at least. Oh well, what did you have to lose besides your life and freedom?

Sebastian pulled his hand away, narrow eyes boring into you as he waited for you to finish.

“How would you feel about some sort of…romantic gesture? Like, I don’t know, a fucking kiss or something?” You offered, preparing to be screamed out of the room.

But, to your surprise, that didn’t happen. He simply kept that narrow-eyed glare. At first, you thought he might not have heard you, so you drew in a breath to speak again. “I mean, come on. You think I can’t tell you at least like my presence a little? You’ve given me discounts and let me just sleep in here whenever.”

It was silent for a minute. The events you’d listed were true, however. You could recall moments when you’d just been so drained that he reluctantly allowed you to use his tail as some sort of pillow to rest with, along with the discounts on items he claimed were just him being in a “good mood” at the time.

“That desperate, are we?” Sebastian laughed, his voice yanking you out of your daydreams. He thought on your proposal for a few agonizingly long seconds before letting out a deep sigh. “…Fine.”

You let out a breath you didnt know you’d been holding, practically gripping your newfound flashlight as if it were your only lifesource. (It might as well be, considering your conditions, honestly..)

You opened your mouth to continue, though all that escaped you was a startled gasp as Sebastian lifted you off the ground. Cold, sharp claws grasped onto you with a gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of as he held you, level to his scaly face.

Your hands grabbed onto whatever part of his claws you could in order to keep yourself from falling as you stared at him with wide eyes.

“So?” He remarked with a frown. You cleared your throat with a deep breath. “Right..”

You leaned in further, pushing your hands against the side of his face as support before pressing your lips against him. Your body seemed to heat up as you did so, finding an odd sense of comfort as you let it linger for a few extra seconds.

“Mmh.” A satisfied hum escaped Sebastian as he gently curled his claws further around your body. Though the fear of falling wasn’t an issue for you right now. All you could seem to think about was the current situation, and the way it made you feel.

Eventually, you pulled away, wiping your mouth as you cleared your throat. You stared up at him, taking in the slight smirk being thrown your way.

“Good enough for you?” You asked, your voice softer than usual.

“Very,” He sighed, placing you down carefully. Your legs trembled as your feet finally touched the ground, due to the being held midair like that, and also maybe the fact that you had just kissed a sea creature you were told to avoid at all costs.

You tightened the hold on your flashlight as you stared off into space, thinking on your recent actions. Of course it earned you something, but holy shit.

In an attempt to take your mind off this, you sat down, arms wrapped around your legs as the lack of energy finally got to you. Sitting against the wall, you let out a sigh.

“Could I stay for a bit?”

“…For a few hours.” Sebastian exhaled, arms crossed as he glanced down at you.

You smiled, a silent ‘thank you’ as you let the well-deserved sensation of rest overcome you.

This was going to be an odd story to tell when you got back.

so sorry if this is shit, /gen , I haven’t written in forever , plus im much better with hcs 💔

[vexcraft]

okay. so. what we know about this whole exile and world border moving thing so far

grian teases the permit office exile program (in a very severance-style clip), saying that the world spawn has been relocated. he's talking to "another" grian who does not seem very excited about this whole thing

doc talks about the whole banishing thing in his video (since the permit office has permission to use his world border cannon), saying it would be funny as a one-time laugh as people sent to the world border could just die and be back at their spawns. he then says he's been informed the world spawn has been moved to the world border

the permit office crew shows up at the beginning of jevin's stream, demanding he give up his unused permit

jevin refuses so cub, grian, and scar attack him and he dies. jevin spawns at the normal world spawn. might be unrelated but after this he gets a message and briefly ends stream for a minute or so and he's back at his base with the permit office crew once he restarts stream. they briefly threaten him, talking about how this was "unsuccessful" and tell him to reconsider his stance on the permits (as jevin is the leader of no-poe)

jevin sets his spawn at his base

after this at multiple points of the stream, the permit office crew is killing each other (mostly scar...) and logging on and off multiple times (seemingly not for skin changes, aside from scar changing into his poe poe skin on one of the log-outs). this seems like they're probably testing things

grian kills scar and scar spawns outside the world border. jevin is just about to leave the end, and despite having set his spawn earlier, also spawns outside the world border (clip). grian tells them not to panic and after a moment tells them that they can respawn again and both jevin and scar spawn at the normal world spawn

then there's whatever this is. scar dies to a zombie almost immediately and spawns at normal world spawn

killing continues but this time scar's not spawning outside the world border!

something happens here

this time scar kills cub and grian, jokingly leaving after, which seems like he successfully sent them to the new spawn (or just sent them somewhere lol) and left them there (as without someone around the normal area, they wouldn't be able to teleport back through things like stasis chambers i'm pretty sure as there would be no one to trigger it). scar logs back on after a moment

when jevin leaves the end for the second time, he spawns back in his bed (in which he set his spawn again after the whole world border case). shortly after this jevin ends stream. during this whole thing it was only jevin and the permit office crew online

so.

it seems that currently the world spawn might be near the world border and if it's not, the permit office can move it there. having your spawn set prevents getting sent there even though for some reason that did not work for jevin the first time. i believe doc has talked about ender pearls in stasis chambers no longer disappearing when you die and joe tried it on stream moments ago, so a stasis chamber would be a way to get out of there

i believe this is all we know so far. i'll try to reblog this post with updates if there's more and feel free to reply/leave tags if i forgot something :D

[rafesangelita]

♡ when a double date with rafe leads to him feeling a sense of familiarity + you may have revealed your biggest secret yet..

warnings: mean!rafe. enemies to ???, suggestive language, lots of cussing lol, slight angst, mild sexting, light degradation (reader and rafe just like being snarky towards each other), sexual tension, flirty banter (?), slight arguing

a/n: this is part two of this fic right here! if you’d like to be added to the taglist just comment on this post or leave me an ask <3 i do plan to write three more parts to this!

links: previous | next | mini series masterlist

wc: 2.9k

[1:19 AM] countryclub: we have the same area code.

you felt cold sheer panic run through your veins at the revelation, your heart beating in your ears as you kept rereading his message. you refused to believe what he said to be true. this couldn’t be happening. sharing the same area code could only mean one thing— both of you resided on the island.

sure, the island was small, but it couldn’t be that small.. right? your mind was reeling, everything that you two had talked about, the pictures that you two shared, over the last few months ran through your mind at lightning speed. tossing your phone to the side, you rested your head in your hands, trying your best to piece something, anything, together. this mystery man didn’t talk like anyone you knew, or so you thought. you chewed on your bottom lip, your chest rising and falling as you realized that you hadn’t even confirmed if you two shared the same area code. for all you know he could just be making up some lame excuse for leaving you high and dry.

yeah, that had to be it.

[1:33 AM] brattydiaries: fuck you. i don’t believe that.

[1:35 AM] brattydiaries: i don’t need you to come up with some elaborate lie in order to spare my feelings. if you weren’t serious about reaching out to me in the first place, then you shouldn’t have asked for my number.

rafe was pacing back and forth in his room, the taste of tequila from his earlier activities still lingering on his tongue. he scoffed once your messages came in, his eyes narrowing at his screen as he scratched the back of his neck. insinuating that he didn’t really want to talk to you was just flat out insane. nowadays, all he could do was imagine the way your voice would sound in his ears while he pounded you in, the thoughts and images of you taking up his headspace.

[1:38 AM] countryclub: are you fucking stupid?? i was very serious about wanting to talk to you, you live in my fucking brain.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: 252. that’s the area code for kildare island.

[1:39 AM] countryclub: and judging by the way you post your nail appointments every two weeks, along with all the sexy lil try-on hauls you did for me, i could confidently say that you’re not a pogue.

your eyes widened in horror. only someone who lived on kildare island would know about the whole ‘kooks vs. pogues’ thing. besides the confirmation with the area code, you knew he wasn’t lying. you stared blankly at the screen, having no idea what to say or even do about this situation. having these kinds of blogs and letting anyone you knew in real life find out about them was social suicide. maybe not so much for rafe, but you? you were a totally different person out here. you had a reputation to uphold, you couldn’t risk the scrutiny you or your parents would face if anyone ever found out.

as mad as you were at the mystery man behind the screen for ghosting you without an explanation, you could understand his sudden disappearance now that you currently felt sick to your stomach at the realization. he was far too close for comfort. based off of his username, you knew you two had to be running in the same social circles, your blood running cold at the thought of this person being someone you might’ve had contact with before. figure eight wasn’t big enough to keep a secret like this, it was only a matter of time before you two would unintentionally reveal yourselves to one another.

[1:50 AM] brattydiaries: this can’t go on any longer. sorry not sorry.

you ignored the small pang of hurt in your chest when you pressed send. apart of you hoped that he wouldn’t let you off so easily. you couldn’t deny the thrilling feeling that sat in your tummy at the prospect of knowing who he is but also being utterly clueless at the same time.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: nah.

[1:55 AM] countryclub: i got you right where i want you now.

there was no way in hell rafe was going to just allow you two to go back to not talking. he did it once, but he wouldn’t be able to do it again. especially now that he knows everything he wants is on his side of the island. just in arm’s reach. obviously, he couldn’t physically stop you from blocking him, but at least he knew that if you responded to him then you two were on the same page.

and sure enough..

[1:59 AM] brattydiaries: whatever.

were you scared shitless? yes. did you believe that this was going to backfire in some way? most definitely; but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want this. whatever little sexting arrangement you two had going on, it was the only relatively exciting thing you had going for yourself and you weren’t necessarily ready to let it go.

[2:03 AM] countryclub: so can i call you or what?

you shook your head even though he couldn’t see you.

[2:05 AM] brattydiaries: fuck no. goodnight.

rafe smiled down at his phone before getting ready for bed, both of you finding it nearly impossible to get any kind of sleep. when you woke up the next morning, you were met with at least a dozen messages from chanel.

[8:10 AM] chanel ♡: topper just dropped me off at home..

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: crazyyyyy night.. but anyways! me and you are going on a double date tonight. idk who topper is bringing but you don’t get to say no because love me, okay!?

[8:12 AM] chanel ♡: LMAO imagine it’s rafe

[8:18 AM] chanel ♡: omg you srsly need to wake up already and come over so you could help me choose an outfit!!

you continued reading through her texts, already dreading tonight’s plans as you decided to go ahead and get the day started so you could get this whole ‘date night’ thing over with. even though chanel jokingly said topper would bring rafe to be your date, you really hoped that wasn’t the case. the last thing you felt like doing was fighting or bickering with him because of your indifferences. after spending the afternoon rummaging through chanel’s closet, she finally settled on a dress that she hasn’t worn out before. “where are we even going?” you asked.

“topper said it’s a surprise so he’s picking both of us up from here.” she smiled, her words making you roll your eyes. you hated not knowing what you were getting yourself into. yet again, here you were, sexting with a stranger who just might not be a stranger after all. by the time topper texted chanel that he was outside, you two were in full glam, ready for whatever tonight may bring you. topper opened the doors for both of you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you two. “we weren’t sure how to dress, sooo..” topper nodded, “yeah, i can see that.”

topper had on a casual outfit, a stark difference to the mini dresses and heels you and chanel currently wore. “now is probably a good time to tell us where we’re going.” you quipped from the backseat. at your cattiness, chanel flashed you a glare. “rafe offered up his boat, so i figured we’d just have a couple drinks, have a good time, ‘you know?” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as chanel happily agreed. this was bullshit. not only did you have to spend the next few hours with rafe on his stupid boat, but you were sure this ‘double date’ was going to turn into a third wheeling act real fast.

fifteen minutes later, and rafe was reaching out to help you onto the druthers, an annoyed look written all over his face as you tossed your purse at him first. “what? i don’t want my bag to fall in the water, okay?!” taking hold of your hand, rafe caught a glimpse of your nails, the french tip design looking oddly familar. you squeezed his palm, stepping onto the deck with a sigh. topper and chanel had already made their way inside the cabin area, both of them laughing as they slid the door shut, leaving you and rafe all by yourselves. it was moments like these that made you wish you could be anywhere else.

rafe scanned your outfit, his eyes lingering on your cleavage before you turned around, annoyed. “i guess it’s a good thing topper didn’t mention i’d be spending majority of my night with you. ‘cause i wouldn’t have came.” you snatched your purse back, your heels clicking against the deck as you sat on one of the cushioned chairs near the lounging area. rafe grabbed his cooler, deciding to entertain your antics since all you two had was time. “mmm, i don’t know about that. apart of me thinks you like arguing with me. i know i do.” you scoffed, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips.

“yeah? i bet. female attention seems to be something you lack.” rafe laughed, taking a seat next to you. “oh, i can guarantee you that’s not the case.” he scooted closer, unscrewing the cap from his beer. yeah, right. you knew all about rafe’s inability to hold onto a relationship, rumors of his emotional unavailability spreading around the island like wildfire. “no? i’m sorry, i just assumed since, you know.. you’re a full time asshole.” rafe put his beer down, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed thickly. “only with you, i am.”

you laughed, finally meeting his gaze. he was a lot closer than you thought, his cologne filling your senses as your eyes flickered down to his lips for a second. “so i’m special then?” you had a faux innocent look in your eyes as you blinked up at him, the sight making his jaw clench. “no,” he smiled, leaning in, “but i can be nice. i can be real nice.” the insinuation made your cheeks heat as his face was just mere inches away from your own. tilting your head, you flashed him a sweet smile before shoving him in the chest.

“that’s never going to happen.” rafe acted like you didn’t have any effect on him, but inside? he was fighting every urge to pick you up and take you back to tanneyhill. he couldn’t help but feel like he knew you more than you let on, your demeanor reminding him of a certain someone. “can i ask why?” he watched as you grabbed his beer, your lipgloss smudging around the rim as you took a swig. “why i don’t like you, or why i won’t let you fuck me?” rafe leaned back in his chair, his thighs spreading as he crossed his arms over his chest.

well you definitely had a way with words..

rafe took the time to get a really good look at you. he had a feeling about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, the familiarity driving him crazy. he was determined to figure you out. “both.” he answered, taking his beer back from you. slipping your heels off, you brought your feet up and got comfortable in your spot next to rafe. “well i only realized i didn’t like you when i found out you had been talking about me first. so, really, i should be asking you why you don’t like me.”

rafe blinked. all this time he thought that you felt the way you did just because. “how come you never asked me then?” you stayed silent for a few moments before shrugging. “everyone has always made their assumptions about me. about my parents, about my life.. but no one really knows me, or what really goes on in my home. i just let people think whatever they want.” rafe’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “what do you mean?” at his words, you realized you may have said too much.

putting your defense back up, you backed away from him slightly before you scoffed. “you’re the last person i’d ever confide in, rafe.” the man next to you immediately recognized what you did, having veered away from being vulnerable a countless amount of times himself. rafe couldn’t help but keep digging. “let’s go tit for tat, then. you tell me something, anything you want, and i’ll say something in return. ‘that way it’s an even exchange.” apart of you hated him for making this so easy.

“i’m not doing that with you.” your voice sounded different. it lacked that usual bite and now rafe felt bad for opening his mouth in the first place. before the awkward tension could settle over you two again, you got up with your phone in your hand. “where are you going?” rafe watched as you slid the door open to the cabin area. “inside. i need to make a phone call.” you lied, walking past chanel and topper who were aggressively making out on the couch in the corner.

locking the small bathroom door behind you, you sighed, taking a moment to let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. what even was that out there? unlocking your phone, you sent chanel a text that you wanted to leave even though the chances of her seeing it was extremely slim. you stalled, deciding to freshen up your makeup as you waited for this so-called ‘date’ to end already. you were reapplying your lip gloss when your phone went off, making you mutter a ‘thank god’. instead of the notification being a message back from your best friend who was currently getting her face sucked off, it was from tumblr instead.

[9:14 PM] countryclub: what are you doing right now? i could use someone to talk to rn ngl

you looked up from your screen and stared into your reflection. this message came at just the right time.

[9:15 PM] brattydiaries: that makes two of us. i’m not with the sweet talk rn though, but i could use a distraction right now for sure..

[9:16 PM] countryclub: define ‘sweet talk’ cause i had every intention of asking you for some sexy pics and maybe a phone call if you’re down with that?

you refrained from laughing at his text, his bluntness throwing you for a loop. you couldn’t deny the giddy feeling you had in your tummy when you thought about hearing his voice. biting your lip nervously, you pulled the neckline of your dress down, exposing the lace of your bra before snapping a few pictures.

[9:19 PM] brattydiaries: 3 attachments

[9:20 PM] brattydiaries: here’s the first half of your request. make me wet and just maybe i’ll accept the call..

rafe was outside on the deck looking over his shoulder every two seconds to make sure you weren’t coming back in time to see the explicit photos currently illuminating his screen. he cursed under his breath, his eyes raking over the soft swells of your breasts. you were so fucking perfect, he couldn’t believe you were so close yet so far.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: fuckk you’re unreal.

[9:22 PM] countryclub: i hate that i’m wrapped up with something right now, otherwise i’d be sending you paragraphs about how pretty your tits look for me.

you sighed in defeat, making a mental note to send him a text once you were finally in the comfort of your own bed. with you still in the bathroom, rafe took his time examining the photos, his eyes widening slightly as he zoomed in on the dainty diamond pendant of your necklace, the background looking like something he has seen before.

[9:25 PM] brattydiaries: aww, too bad.

just then, chanel knocked on the bathroom door, her hair looking slightly out of place once you opened it. “i just saw your text. you ready to go?” you nodded, adjusting your dress before stepping out. “sorry to cock block you, i just had a really weird moment with rafe.” you explained, tossing your phone back in your purse. chanel waved you off before interlocking her arm with yours. “don’t even worry about it, we’re going back to his place, anyways.” she reassured you.

topper was already outside on the deck once you two made your way out of the cabin. glancing at rafe, you quickly looked away once you saw that he was already staring at you. “well, thanks for letting us use the druthers.” chanel smiled, in which rafe just shook his head. “ah, don’t even worry about it,” he held your stare, “..i had a good time.” blinking away from him, rafe’s eyes caught onto your cleavage once again, except this time; a sparkle from right above your neckline took him out of his reverie.

that necklace..

before he could piece anything together, you were moving with chanel, not sparing rafe another look as you were getting back onto the dock. the car ride back to your place was deadly silent. all except for the music topper had playing in the background. by the time you had gotten home and showered, you felt your world come to a stand still when your phone started ringing, an unsaved number with kildare island’s area code showing up at the top.

accepting the call, you held up the receiver to your ear with a shaky hand before speaking.

“hello?”

“..you sound pretty.”

taglist: @meallan01 @sf1738 @emeloyy @hmmshhhh @chelzaa @starkeycore @liyah4evaaaa @hnybitches @urbimom @kittenjujusblog @femaholicc @lil-sparklqueen @yktayy9669 @matthewswifeyy @icaqttt @jjasmiineee @lilithblackkk @rafecameronswhoore @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @ditzyzombiesblog @i-love-gvf @blondrafe @wolf-2005 @brianquinnlvr @lightbluebaby @jkrafe @lovemaybankk @xcinnamonmalfoyx @drewstarkeysbabe @issues4him @dahliaparton @slut-4-gojo @luvagirlsworld @nemesyaaa @jwdiaries @midsoulz @drewstarkeyzwhore @urmotherlvr @chillgal135 @wtfisastiles @dollyfiles @annaconscience @rafesluvr @locallyhateddoll @acidfeens @cherubfille @whathechickenstrip @my-name-is-baby @wtfdudesblog @atjlovverr

[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.

[cosmosluckycharms]

Super Rich Kids

A/N: hey guys warning this is sosososo bad im tryna get out of writers block by forcinf myself to write help

reader is loosly based off haruhi fujioka but not that much (you dont have to know anything about ohshc to understand this)

reader is gender neutral

ugh sorry this is so bad

After your mom died at an early age, around when you were 5. you and your father were by yourselves.

At first, it was difficult, you kept yourself company most of the time due to your father working hard to keep you both afloat.

You lived in an okay apartment, one that was in the middle of an area that was cheap, but dangerous to live in.

Gotham.

You knew how to cook and do chores around the house due to your mother teaching you before she passed.

In middle school, you threw yourself into your studies to be able to have a better life in the future.

You barely went out with friends, and when you did you'd leave early.

It wasn't that you didn't like or care for them, you were just busy trying to get into higher education.

It worked out for you. You were able to get a scholarship into a high school you used to dream of entering.

Gotham prep.

It wasnt the best, but it was better.

You had to leave your old high school midway through 9th grade.

It meant that you had to leave all your friends and teachers.

youd miss them, but a scholarship is a scholarship.

Plus, maybe you could still see them around?

You couldn't afford to get the fancy uniforms that cost almost as much as your rent, so you decided to procrastinate on getting one.

Your teachers would understand, right?

Your teachers did not understand.

They refused to let you go around the school without a uniform, so you had to use an old uniform from the lost and found.

It was dusty and had a couple of holes, but it'd have to do.

You also somehow kept managing to get lost, so whenever you walked into your classroom, you were usually 10 minutes late.

So much for a good first impression.

As you got to your 4th class of the day, you fumbled around with the doorknob, trying to open the classroom door without dropping your books and supplies.

You struggled a bit until a black-haired boy saw you looking a little stupid out the small window on the door.

He got up and unlocked it for you, and you almost dropped your pencil case

Thankfully, he picked it up and gave it to you before it hit the ground.

"Be careful next time," he smirked and held the door open for you.

As you were about to thank him, you heard the teacher clear her throat.

"And who might you be?"

"I'm Y/n," you spoke, trying not to look stupid in front of a class of 25 people.

She checked her attendance roster. "Last name?"

"L/n."

"you aren't on the roster. Are you sure you're in this class? You aren't skipping, are you?" she raised an eyebrow at you.

"I moved here like, two days ago. I have my schedule, though." you handed her your paper schedule, making sure not to drop anything.

Once the whole attendance thing was sorted out, you were sat down next to the blue-eyed boy.

You kept glancing at him through the corner of your eye.

He took notice and looked at you fully, catching you off guard.

You straightened your posture and looked at the board, making him chuckle.

"Why are you staring so hard?"

"Sorry, I don't know." you looked away in embarrassment.

The truth is, you didn't even notice you were staring. You were just taking notice of your surroundings.

Plus, he looked familiar

"You're Y/n, right?"

"Yep."

"I'm Tim." he put his hand out so you could shake it.

"Quiet you two." the teacher yelled, shutting you both up.

The class went by slowly. Luckily for you, the class was easy to pay attention to.

Most of the kids had their heads down and were asleep, including the boy next to you.

Sucks for him.

That was your last class of the day, and you started to make your way back to your apartment.

You had your slightly mangled wired headphones in, and didn't hear footsteps behind you.

You didn't notice the presence of a certain someone until you felt the tap of someone on your shoulder.

You turned around and saw Tim, and a blonde girl right next to him.

"Hey," Tim spoke

You took your earbud out "..Hey?"

"This is Steph, she's one of my friends. She's coming with us." Tim said, pointing to the blonde.

"To where?" you questioned, tilting your head.

"To his house, duh," Steph stated.

"I'm not coming." you tried walking ahead of them, only for Steph to hold your wrist.

"Why?" Tim questioned

"Because I have things to do." you had to start working on your resume to get a job.

"C'mon, just come over!" Steph insisted

"I'm fine."

"c'mon, we're your friends!" Tim spoke

You rolled your eyes ".. I just met you guys.."

"Whatever!" Steph dragged you by the wrist and started dragging you to Alfred's car.

You had to be pulled into the car by both Tim and Steph as you all made your way to the manor.

You didn't want to go, but you had no choice.

Both of them were insistent.

You didn't take notice of the driver and how surprised he looked to see you. You were spaced out looking at the window beside you thinking about how you could've avoided all of this.

"And who might you be?" the older man spoke

You jumped at his words. "I'm y/n— one of Tim's classmates."

"That's quite strange, he's never mentioned you."

"yeah, I just moved here like, two days ago. We just met like an hour ago."

"Oh, that's alright."

You pulled out your phone and texted your dad to let him know you wouldn't be getting home until later.

You knew he wouldn't see the text until later.

He was at work.

You looked out the window and spaced out on your way over to the manor.

Once you felt the car stop, you noticed how big the manor was.

You were surprised at how someone could live in it or even afford it.

It seemed that Tim could sense your shock.

He nudged your shoulder and snapped you out of it.

You, Steph, and Tim all made your way inside.

They knew their way around, so you had to follow behind them like a lost puppy.

You all made your way to the kitchen and sat down on the island.

The entire manor looked too fancy, like that fake house set at Ikea.

The countertops glimmered and shined in a way you've never seen before.

"Do you want something?" Tim asked

"I want to go home." you your your head down on the cold marble island.

Tim rolled his eyes "I meant like to drink or eat."

"Oh, uh, could I get some water?"

"Coming right up." he started making his way to get water.

You and Steph both went on your phones.

Steph liked talking, a lot.

It was sort of overwhelming for you, especially since you weren't used to talking to a lot of people.

You liked the quiet.

About around 5 minutes of being on your phone, you felt a gust of wind pass by you, and you saw what looked like an 11-year-old boy arguing with an older boy who had a tuft of white hair.

You put little to no mind to it as you continued to scroll on your phone.

Three seconds later Tim made his way back to the dining room.

You looked up from your phone to see Tim looking at the boys.

"Could you guys cut it out? We have company." Tim handed you a bottle of water

"My bad." the boy with the white tuft of hair walked up to you "I'm Jason."

You shook his hand. "Y/n."

"I will not apologize to them." the green-eyed boy spoke.

"Damian–" Tim tried to reprimand him

"that's fine." you got up from your chair "Do you know where the bathroom is?"

"Yeah, it's past that hallway." Jason pointed

"Thanks."

As you made your way to the bathroom, you could hear Damian getting scolded by Tim.

You checked your phone and noticed how your father still hadn't seen your messages.

You sighed and made your way back to the kitchen, not noticing the guy in front of you.

You accidentally bumped into him

"Sorry, my bad," you said.

"It's okay." you watched as the man scratched his head in confusion "I don't think I've seen you around, did Bruce just adopt you?"

"huh?" you tilted your head in confusion. "I'm just visiting, Tim and Steph invited me over."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"im Y/n."

"I'm Richard, most people call me Dick, though."

You snickered at the nickname, and Dick pretended to dramatically look offended.

You both made small talk as you made your way to the kitchen.

You sat back down on a seat and went back to scrolling on your phone, ignoring the ever-growing chaos of the siblings fighting.

Steph sat up and grabbed her bag, making her way out the door and waving goodbye to you.

You waved back.

After a minute or two of getting bored of your phone, you got up and grabbed your bag, ready to walk home.

"Y/n!" Jason called

"Hm?"

"Tell Damian to let go of my book!"

"I refuse, Todd!"

The name gave you deja vu like you've heard it before.

Wait a second.

You locked eyes with Jason, and you noticed how much he looked like Bruce Wayne's dead son.

From his eyes, to his nose, to his ears.

He had the same name too.

You gasped quietly.

How did you not notice sooner?

"You–you're Bruce Wayne's dead son!"

"What?" Jason's eyes widened

Jason started walking towards you, trying to intimidate you.

You started backing up in fear, not taking notice of the vase behind you.

You bumped into it, making it shatter onto the floor.

You looked at it and noticed how expensive everything looked.

Damn, rich people.

"Shoot, I'm so sorry! I can pay you guys back!" You tried putting the pieces back together but there was no use.

It was shattered.

You just had to hope that it wasn't too expensive–

Dick interrupted your train of thought "That vase was around a million dollars, I think."

You turned around to look at him, hoping he was lying ".. You're joking."

"I'm serious. We got it at an auction. One of a kind, you know." Tim spoke

"Shoot." you were visibly sweating "I cant afford that! I couldnt even afford a school uniform!"

"I have a way you could pay it back." Alfred spoke up from the shadows (how did you not notice him?"

"How?"

"Working as my apprentice."

this was so ass im sorry omg

yay this reader is NOT neglected 🥳🥳🥳 slightly better childhood 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

this is so ass omg

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1, part 3, part 4

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina

[sourle]

Oneshot n Headcanons

WARNINGS: There might be smelling mistakes/mispronouns/ooc. I apologize in advance for those.

Enjoy the show.

You wish you weren't brought into this hell, Looping for eternity for the joy of torturing. Was this really the karma for the things you did in your past?

Was this all just a sick joke as a payback from them?

You don't know.

You wish you could take it back and wouldn't end up here. Being chased around like some kind of toy all for entertainment for the.. killers. You're luckily not alone.. but… they're not all better.

After they know what you did, they turn their back on you. More often than not, they never help you whenever you're in a struggle.

Ignoring you completely.

You hate it, you don't like it. It's what makes the loop hell WORSE.

The way the other survivors treat you. Elliot never bothered to offer you a pizza. Shedletsky would just watch you getting chased alongside Guest. HECK, even 007n7 ignored you COMPLETELY.

It was exhausting, especially when all you wanted was a new beginning. Without the constant nagging of what you did.

You approached Taph, tapping him on his shoulder. “Hey— May I ask you something?—”

“🧍‍♂️🤷‍♂️👉👷‍♂️❓” (I don't know as well, maybe you should ask Builderman) You nod at his answer, giving him a thumbs up and left. Glancing back to see he gave you a thumbs up as well.

You next walked up to Noob, “Sorry to bother you… but do we have a plan for the next match?—”

Upon hearing your voice they flinched, they didn't seem to hear you but he just nodded quickly. “Y-you should ask Builderman about it, I'm s-sure he has m-more.. information.”

You watch as they speed walk away, slipping a bit.

You brushed his silly actions and went to find Builderman. He is outside the cabin with Shedletsky, seemingly in a conversation as Builderman checks over his new invention.

You approach the two and once you get closer, they turn their attention to the footsteps coming closer.

Shedletsky looks.. rather wary, whilst Builderman has that unreadable expression. You hope that's not hatred.

“Uhm— Hey, Builderman.. Can I ask about the next upcoming match’s plan?”

He didn't answer you outrightly other than letting out a sigh. A small silence overtook before Shedletsky finally spoke up, “We're still trying to figure out who's going to be picked next. Though I believe you won't be picked. Luckily.”

That smidge of disappointment in the last word already says you're not welcome in their presence. You hum with a nod, bidding farewell they didn't respond to and left.

You sat in the living room of the cabin, staring into the fireplace, waiting for the match to start to explore more of the camp, place, whatever people call the area around the cabin.

You don't know what else to do to spend the time, you've got no one to talk to as of now. You've already asked if there's a plan— like every other time before a match. And you can't think of doing anything else.

You might try and find Dusekkar for a small chat, but even so he will, like others, find an excuse to get away from you.

What are you, some kind of plague infected robloxian?

No matter, you'll just wait for the match whilst watching the endless fireplace.

Headcanons

Survivors

Noob

They don't hate you. More so terrified of your capabilities, judging from your past.

Would avoid you every chance they can.

They did try to push away their fear go try and bond with you, maybe. But Guest held him back for 'caution'

Elliot

He hates you. Deeply.

He's frustrated towards what you did to his workplace. Outright unforgivable.

Does not trust you one bit.

REFUSE to heal you even as you're low.

Shedletsky

He's wary. Does not trust you.

Would often watch you from afar though never try and make a conversation with you.

He does not hate you.. maybe a little bit.

Only helps you when it's only you two left alive.

Builderman

Hatred.

He's seething whenever he sees you.

Never tells you where the sentry or dispenser is at. Leaving you wounded most times.

Definitely is the one who told Dusekkar to never help you when you're chased.

Dussekkar

He doesn't hate you. Just a smidge of dislike. Though he does love to talk to you. Once in a while.

Is curious how you are able to do what you've done in the past

The closest to neutral.

Doesn't mind you, though he can't say anything for the others. Especially Builderman.

Chance (pink day Chance yass)

THE MOST NEUTRAL

Like Dusekkar, he doesn't hate you or dislike you.

The closest you think as a friend in the hell.

They do enjoy talking with you!

Though he can't ignore what you've done in the past.

They does help you, Often!

Maybe the only one who helps. Or is he? (Vsauce music started playing)

Two time

Thinks you're a demon coming for them.

Will watch you like a hawk.

They tried to sacrifice you once. Though Taph stops him by knocking him out.

Also tried to give you to the killer aka Jason. Jason ended up targeting Two time.

Guest 1337

He's neutral. Just distrustful of you in every aspect.

He has respect for your.. powerful doing in the past. Though he can't say he's not wary of your capabilities.

The second most to help you. Even though most of it is just him watching you getting chase.

Taph

He actually likes you.

You both would talk often and he loves teaching you sign language!

You both have the closest bond, aka best friend!

He does not care about your past, it's the past after all.

007n7

No emotions.

He sees himself in you.

He understands what you're going through.

Thought.

He respects you for your determination.

Often leaves medkit or bloxy cola near your spawn place.

He does give it to you directly. Once. Elliot glaring at him, whispering he needed it more than you as he can't heal himself.

Chance shut Elliot down by mentioning how he doesn't heal you at all.

Killers

1x1x1x1

She's intrigued by your past.

Though he doesn't care and would kill you whenever.

They would often leave you as the last man standing. Though you don't understand why.

John doe

Absolutely doesn't care.

L + Ratio. Die.

c00lkid

Thinks what you did was cool!

He's impressed how you have done it.

Would often target you first to see if you're as powerful as the story his father told you about.

Fond of you. Somehow.

Jason

He pity you. He does.

He knows how it feels to be an outcast.

Would leave you as last man standing everytime. Though sometimes he lets you win.

Hey at least another killer friend other than a child.

Masioso

He has heard stories of what you did.

Intrigued and impressed.

Though he doesn't understand how you ended up in the hit list. He doesn't remember you doing anything about debt. Meh, you're name in the list anyway.

Azure

He doesn't understand why almost all the survivors hate you.

Even as he feels sorry, he's still going to kill you.

Noli

Thinks what you did in the past are bullshit.

He does not care what so ever.

Though he did tease you about your past, despite not believing it happened, before chasing you.

Guest 666

He doesn't really care.

He tried to feel sorry for you from seeing how the survivors avoided you. But he's careless.

He's a monster. Not a villain.

Note: woah, What's this? I finally uploaded something other than reblogs? Mwehehhe

Anyway if you guys want more, please send it a request of what I should do next.. like a scenario for this Oneshot hcs story.. like maybe Reader trying to bond, how they react to this, that, etc.

Bye now ty for reading!

[hughes-your-daddy]

your patient

paring: quinn hughes x fem reader

summary: quinn refuses the attention of the medical training staff and insists he has his own wife treat him

warning: blood, swearing, injury

sitting at your station sorting through some patient files, about to finish your load for the night when one of the student nurses comes knocking.

“dr. hughes, there’s someone asking for you in bay 5.” she smiles before heading off.

furrowing your brows you head out, adjusting your scrubs before turning into the bag seeing the back of a familiar head.

“elias?” you asks before hes moving out the way to reveal a bashed up quinn, holding some gauze to his face.

“oh my god, what the hell happened?” you ask moving around to gently pull away the gauze, seeing a blunt cut across his left eye area and a slice across his right cheek.

“got hit in the face with a puck then faceplates into someone’s skate.” elias says simply, taking a seat across the bed.

“why aren’t you stitched up.” you asks even though your eyes drift to elias.

“he refused to be checked by anyone but you.” elia smirks looking down at his phone.

“quinn.” you scold moving across the room to grab some tools.

“just wanted a professional to see me.” he mumbles, holding the gauze back to his face while you grab your stuff, before you shoot him a look.

“they are professionals, some of the best actually.” your glare, rolling over to the bed on your stool.

“pull your hand away.” you say, taking the gauze out of quinn’s hand, tossing it in the trash before moving to clean it with some anti bacterial.

“you need to be more careful.” you mumble, gently patting at the open wounds on his face. you quickly make work of cleaning and prepping the wounds for stitches, going to have to put quite a few in each one.

“ok, gonna be a little bit of a sting.” you warn, hand coming up to put the first stitch in, quinn pulling in a short breath, hand coming to grasp your thigh with the pain.

“keep breathing for me honey.” you say gently without loosing concentration, hearing a him take a deep breath before you continue.

it takes around an hour before finally finishing the sutures on his face.

“alright, your all done,” you smile, gently patting his good cheek.

“i’m gonna prescribe him some antibiotics to stop any infection,” you start, tossing your blue gloves in the bin. “i’ll grab my keys and you can get him to my car,” you smile at elias before quickly heading to the staff room, grabbing your keys from your locker.

you pass them to elias, “thanks petey,” before turning to quinn, “i won’t be long ok, just make sure your stuff is in my car yeh?” you ask, already seeing his face start to puff up. he nods with a slug it frown before elias helps him out to the car lot.

you quickly go and pack your bags, throwing a hoodie over your scrub top before grabbing the prescription for quinn, making your way out of the hospital and signing out for the night.

you make your way over to your car seeing quinn’s head rest against the window of the passengers seat from the inside. you chuck your bag into the back before getting into the drivers seat.

“ready to go home hun?” you asks, seeing a small smile make his way across his face, hand finding your thigh again with a much less aggressive grip, before you pull out, driving home.

it doesn’t take too long considering the time of night before your pulling into the driveway of your shared home. the two of your get out, quinn unlocking the front door straight away deciding just too leave both of yours bags in the car for tonight.

yous kick your shoes before quinn heads for the stairs, stopping when he realises your not following but heading into the kitchen.

“you not coming to bed?” he asks, a small pout almost forming on his lips.

“gotta make us some food quinn, i doubt you e had anything since lunch?” you ask seeing a slight blush creep onto his face, a she knows he’s been caught out.

“ok.” he nods, about to move back to follow you before you stop him.

“no, go rest and take your pill. i’ll bring something up for you.” you say, stern but gentle, passing over the box of pills for him to take upstairs with him.

he gives a small nod before heading upstairs whilst you move into the kitchen. you decide on just reheating some leftovers from last night, quickly serving up two plates before heading upstairs into your room, seeing quinn, already stripped of his clothes and laying in bed, scrolling netflix on the tv.

he looks over at your movement, quickly siting up sending you a smile when you pass over his plate, but wincing at the movement.

you place your own table on the night stand, quickly stripping of your own clothes, throwing one of quinn’s old t-shirts on before climbing into bed with your food.

yous decide on watching orange is the new black, you looking over every so often seeing quinn struggle to eat anything. you quickly finish yours losing your plate on your bed stand before turning to him, taking the plate from his grasp.

“baby, i can do it.” he sighs, giving in as you sees you hold up his fork for him to take the food off the end, manoeuvring it so he wouldn’t have to move his mouth as much.

“mmh, thank you.” he smiles, as much as he can, being able to actually eat something rather than struggling, “i love you, you know.” he says, a small blush creeping up your ears

“in sickness and in health huh?” you giggle, wiggling your ring finger, holding your wedding ring.

“really grateful that your a doctor.” he smirks slightly, you gently pushing his shoulder.

“oh shut up,” you giggle, seeing the light come back to his eyes for the first time that night.

“but seriously, i really appreciate everything you do, can’t put into words how much I love you.” he nods, moving to have his arm around your shoulders as you cuddle into his side, still being able to feed him.

“i love you too.”

[henneseyhoe]

Lights, Camera, Action.

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: light smacking, fingering, brief PinV, unprotected (wrap it uhp!), daddy kink, sir kink, squirting, head (m receiving), Pornstar!Terry, dirty talk, slightly unedited, short. i think das it.

SUMMARY: The camera loooves you, and Terry gets all your good sides.

✮✮✮✮

If it wasn’t for the cameras, she probably would have fell in love with the man.

“Look real pretty for the cameras, baby. They ain’t watching for nothing” He whispered into her ear softly while pushing into her. The mic most likely didn’t catch it, but she caught all of it. Every dirty, nasty thing he spoke into her ear, guiding her with how to look, what to do, how to feel. He did it so well she almost forgot this was just work, he made her feel like a rookie in just this thirty minutes of filming.

She turned her head to the professional camera pointed at her face, her moans only heightening as he folded her legs closer to the beds sheets, her heels pointed to the ceiling and toes curling when he bottomed out. “Now smile. Show them how much you love getting fucked like a complete slut.”

Fuck…

Sweat dripped down the back of her neck as she stared into the camera lens, the reflection of her looking back and showing how much of a complete mess she was, most of her lipstick smudged across her lips. He wouldn’t even allow her to wipe her face. The messier, the better, he said.

“You gonna cum on daddies dick?”

“Y-yes!”

“Yes what?” His hips pressed against hers, skin flushed against each other as he well groomed pubic area met her clit.

“Yes, Sir!”

He had gotten so deep that she could feel every twitch from him inside of her stomach, the movement teetering her off the edge of her orgasm just a little more than before. He wasn’t far behind either. With every clench, he prepared himself mentally for having to do another take because he came too early, leaving the director to instruct him to get himself up again after the overstimulation period had subsided.

“Cut!”

✮✮✮✮

“Such a good girl. You can take it just a little deeper”

Terry held the back of her head with a steady hand, sure to push her head back down whenever he felt her attempting to come up for air. She heard the cue from behind the camera to give them a good shot, making her open her eyes and look for the recording lens.

A camera snapped pictures, close ups of her mouth wrapped around his thick dick, her pussy dripping with arousal, and her erect clit peaking from underneath her clitoral hood kept to be stored in a harddrive later and uploaded to a dirty site with premium content.

The flash showed all of the glistening sweat on her body and the outline of his dick deep down her throat. It was hard for her to even lift her head with more than enough inches down her throat and him standing above her wasn’t helping. The constant sensation to gag poked at her reflexes until she couldn’t refuse anymore.

Popping off of him with a gasp, spit fell from her chin and onto the hardwood floor that had her wishing she put a pillow down for her knees. He chuckles darkly, pleased with her attempt to keep all of him down.

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Using that mouth for something so much better than running it. Fuck, you look so pretty like this” He praised as his hand lightly taps on her wet cheek, smudging the blush she applied earlier.

He wanted so badly to just shove his fingers down her throat and make her gag again, but they had already gone off script enough for that day. He’d just have to get her number for a more private session.

“Good girls get prizes, don’t they?”

“Yes, Sir” She nods.

“You wanna cum don’t you?”

“Yes, please”

Without another question, he lifts her by the waist and effortlessly tosses her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the heels she wore clicking together as she settled across his broad shoulder.

With him now sat on a couch, she bent over his knee like he told her to and lifts her own skirt while Terry gestures the camera towards him.

“Look at that…” He slides his fingers between her lips and spreads them for the camera to see, her clit jumping at the feeling.

“Wet ass pussy” A loud smack sounded off in the room, her back arching in before quickly regaining its original form before she earned herself a harder smack.

Her ass bounced back like waves against his hand, one of them squishing her cheeks as his other hand slide further between her legs, the pads of his fingers teasing at her clit before he sunk two fingers into her.

Off bat, he started with no easy pace, his fingers curling up to her gspot as a long string of moans left her pretty little mouth. The moans were broken up into sections, sounding as if someone was shaking her by the shoulders; it was really just the effect of his wrist colliding with her ass.

“Wanna cum- Can I please?” She whined helplessly, trying so hard not to let her thighs close of him or for her to roll right off of his lap. She couldn’t even begin care about the cameras anymore.

“Wet it up, baby” He demanded a response from her body as his fingers pressed up against her favorite spot, wiggling until she clenched so hard he no longer had room to move. Her legs shook violently and her thighs finally locked together, gushing of her wetness soaking his entire lap and the couch.

“Uh-huh, look at you still following orders” He smirked and pried her thighs apart again, laying smacks on her clip to beckon a stronger orgasm to her, which she got. As his hand made contact, water splashed up from her middle.

“Look at that mess you made, baby”

Her upper body slumped down onto the couches cushions. He was proud of his work, fixing her up to sit properly in his lap after pulling his fingers out of her and bringing them to her lips.

“Now open, look into the camera, and clean me up”

✮✮✮✮

💌-IM BACK 😜 this was originally supposed to be for lewis but fuck it we ball am i right????

[mochitaekookie]

Yan Billionaire!Heir Jungkook

I want him in real life 😫

Billionaire heir!Jungkook comes from a family of wealth, thanks to his great-grandfather and grandfather who started with just a restaurant in a town, now turned into a vast industry.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who is a spoiled brat and an absolute mannerless man.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook whose father regrets not reprimanding him back when he started being reckless. He and his wife blamed it on puberty, but no, he was just plain rude.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, whose recklessness finally pushed his parents to the limit. They love him, but they refuse to watch their family’s hard-earned legacy be ruined by his irresponsibility.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who is majorly pissed off but has to comply or else his gaming setup will be confiscated

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who works under the company's senior accountant, the only man he tolerates respects in that damn company.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who starts getting his life together. Gone were the days he wore jackets and hoodies, now replaced with classy attire.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who one day sees you, the senior accountant's daughter and can't seem to get you out of his mind. Why? Because you totally ignored him the entire time he was there.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who from then on, completely clings to your father, hoping to get some updates from you.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who finds which college you go to and surprisingly, he has errands to run around in that area.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who finds out you are in your last year of bachelor's program and majoring in accounts.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who gets your class time table from your college website and now he knows when and what time to see you. Accidently ofcourse.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who hears your father mentioning that you are looking for internships to get practical knowledge in your field.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who brings up that why not intern in their company? After all, your father and he would be able to keep an eye on you.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who by now isn't the same mannerless douchebag he used to be and now is a responsible man and people do take him seriously. So, his father had no problem agreeing for you to work with them.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who makes sure to look extra good the day you were supposed to join, after all, impressions matter.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who dresses even sharper on your first day, expecting you to finally acknowledge him. But you don’t. Instead, you brush past him like he’s just another employee. He tries to talk to you while you are working but you just give him one word answers.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who corners you in the break room, leaning against the counter with a smirk. “Do you always ignore people this much, or am I just special?”

You glance at him, unfazed. “I just don’t like unnecessary distractions when I’m working.”

Distraction? Is that what he is to you?

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who wants to speak more but then your father interrupts and takes you away to have lunch.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who gets your number from the employees files, and texts you that night, pouting that you didn't see his messages (you did, you just pretended you didn't). The next day he asks you if you received his text. You feign ignorance and tell him that due to college there are already too many texts and that you may have missed his.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who finally has the chance to take you out to lunch without your father interfering, since he took a sick leave. He was having the time of his life, the way you both gossiped and laughed as you had been friends for decades. He liked that you were opening up to him. His nerves calmed when you told him that it was weird for you to interact with him since you have been to an all-girls school and haven't dated anyone before. So talking with men was a bit overwhelming for you and you weren't great with interacting with people either.

So that’s why you ignore him. You’re shy

Billionaire heir!Jungkook wanted to speak to you more, but since lunch time ended you both had to go back.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who texts you again the same day and is jumping in joy when you reply hours later (what? His relationship with you is progressing okay?)

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who knows he’s in love with you. You’re everything he needs—hardworking, focused, someone he can rely on after marriage.

Marriage.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who casually asks, “Have you ever thought of getting married?”

“If I find the right person,” you reply, sipping your cold coffee. “But I’m only 21. I want to be financially independent first.”

Financial independence? Why? Whatever he has belongs to you. If you asked, he’d transfer his entire company’s shares to your name.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who starts working even harder, impressing his father to the point of tears. His son is finally proving himself—not just a spoiled heir but a true successor.

Because when Jungkook asks for your hand in marriage, there must be zero objections.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who spirals into five stages of grief when your internship ends. But it’s fine—he knows where to find you.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook whose obsession with you grows day by day, his mind being uneasy with the fact that you aren't his already.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who spots you sitting outside your college, looking desperate to escape the conversation you’re in. And there he is—dressed in full business attire, standing like an untouchable force. The people talking to you shrink under his gaze.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook who notices you aren't alone but your cousin is with you as well, and he doesn't like the way she looks at him. Only you are supposed to look at him like that.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who decides he needs you. No more waiting. No more wasting time.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who asks his father to talk to yours about marriage.

Your father refuses at first. You’re too young. You have a future to focus on. But Jungkook is relentless. Persistent. Desperate.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, Who ensures that every road leads back to him. Who quietly eliminates every potential suitor before they can even think of approaching you.

Your father has no choice but to agree, he can't let anymore people's lives be ruined because of Jungkook's madness.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, whose father approves of you, while his mother trusts her husband’s judgment.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who spoils you without limit, sending designer dresses to your home, buying out entire stores when you mention something in passing.

Billionaire heir!Jungkook, who finally, finally gets what he wants—you, standing beside him, a ring on your finger, and his last name attached to yours.

Not proofread.

[animeficsworld]

Reckless and Yours

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Summary: Bakugou never said your name, until the night he thought you were gone for good. Now, he can’t stop.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

The mission briefing room was tense just always. 

Pro Hero Dynamight sat near the front, arms crossed, jaw set like he was already mid-argument. You leaned against the opposite wall, arms casually draped around yourself, twirling a drop of water between your fingers.

“Stop that,” Bakugou snapped without looking.

“What, this?” You shaped the water into a tiny sword, then let it collapse with a grin. “Gotta stay hydrated somehow.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue further. Typical. You were reckless. 

He was explosive. 

Somehow, you always worked well together, if not chaotically. 

You pushed boundaries. He tried to break them. It was never quiet between you, but it was something else. 

Electric.

Still, in all the years of fighting side by side, Katsuki Bakugou had never once said your name.

You’d noticed it. Everyone had. “Oi,” “You,” “Stupid Waterworks.” But never your actual name. 

You called him by his, casually, confidently, daringly.

He never said yours.

“Bet you don’t even remember my name,” you teased once while patching a cut on his jaw. The city still burned behind you while your fingers smelled like ice and smoke.

Bakugou stared ahead, refusing to answer. Then stood and walked away.

So you stopped asking.

The mission went sideways.

It was supposed to be simple, escort and defend. You’d gone ahead to scout the area, and Bakugou had stayed behind, forced to play defence. The explosion took you off your feet and buried you beneath rubble before your comms even crackled.

And when the dust cleared, no water. You couldn’t summon it. Couldn’t breathe.

Bakugou’s voice screamed through the line. Then silence.

Then chaos.

You woke up in the hospital, wrapped in warmth you didn’t recognize. Your vision was hazy, but you could hear it—shouting down the hallway.

"She’s alive. Let me in. I don’t give a damn about protocol, I’m not leaving!”

Then the door slammed open.

You blinked.

Bakugou looked like he’d crawled through hell. His arms were cut, shirt torn, ash streaked across his face. His crimson eyes locked onto yours with something unfamiliar in them.

He stepped forward slowly. Hesitantly.

“…Katsu?”

“Don’t,” he snapped, voice strained. “Don’t fucking say my name like that.”

You blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you didn’t almost die,” he growled. “Like I wouldn’t’ve burned the whole goddamn city down trying to get to you. Like it doesn’t matter.”

You were about to make a joke. Something light. Something stupid. But then...

He said it.

Your name.

Soft. Guttural. Breaking.

“…Y/N.”

You froze.

He sat at the edge of your bed and clenched his fists.

“I thought I’d never get to say it,” he muttered. “Didn’t realize how bad I needed to until it was almost too late.”

Recovery was slow. You spent weeks in rehab and physical therapy, relearning how to control your ice under stress. 

Bakugou visited every day. He never said much, but he used your name. Casually. Gently. Like he was practising. Like he needed the sound on his tongue to prove you were still here.

One night, sitting beside you with the hospital windows fogging from your quirk, he reached for your hand.

“If I say it again,” he asked, “you gonna stop me?”

You smirked, heart thudding.

“Say it,” you whispered.

He did.

And didn’t stop.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺