Hi! I'm IsunstreakerI, or sunny, or issi, sudsy if your autocorrect hates you whatever works for you :)
Masterlist is current as of 05/25/26 (or 25/05/26, for you oddballs)
I fear my AO3 page speaks for itself. if that's a good thing or a bad thing is up to you.
My policy on ao3 site scraping and archive locking my fics.
Mature content in the blog! I try my best to keep things labeled for violence or explicit content. surf the internet responsibly if you're underage and all that.
Kink prompts are currently closed.
My ko-fi! ☀️🤍
Thank you for reading- FAQ's below the cut. 🤍
Are you dead?
- if I haven't been super active in a while, I'm probably swamped by work.
When is my favorite fic updating?
- whenever inspiration strikes. you can send in an ask about it, but if I'm not in the mood for a certain thing then I won't force myself to try and write it. this is for fun and a hobby for me :)
What's your favorite thing you've written?
- obviously search history is one of my top fics, and the first thing I wrote and posted on ao3, and I wouldn't have any of this without it, so it's got a special place in my heart. but famiglia is my comfort verse. (polarity is also one I'm proud of.) ((and forgive my flaws is my ver2 baby.))
Why do you have so many au's?
- I like to stick em in scenarios.
Are you a full time student?
- not anymore because I'm graduated right now! currently in a gap year before going back to school.
Are you a full time worker?
- yes.
What do you do with ko-fi money?
- buy red bulls. and sometimes lunch.
What's your writing process?
- I write in my notes app! sometimes for bigger projects I'll have my stuff beta read, but usually it goes straight from my brain to my notes, and then from my notes to here or AO3. I do all my writing on my phone.
rereading tulip verse and there’s just a part from the first blurb that i cant stop thinking about.
“Naming the system GP had been a moment of sentimentality that he can't bring himself to regret.”
with everything televised, does this mean earth gp is just stuck there? watching his boy get put into life threatening situations? calling out for him like he used to when he was in life threatening situations in his old job, but it’s not the real gp that responds back bc he can no longer be that voice in his ear and he can no longer talk to him at all and won’t see him ever again probably? but max still calls out for him? yeah idk why this detail stuck out to me but devastating nonetheless. love this series it’s so creative xx kisses
some lore drops for tulip verse! I talk a bit about it here, but I don't make a whole lot of the system clear, so I wanted to lay out a bit lot of worldbuilding :)
-humanity as a species is considered "on probation" as team tulip is competing for their right to exist
-species that are not on probation (like pacifist species and species that have successfully won their way out of probation) are allowed unfiltered access to the live feeds at any given moment.
-species that are on probation are only allowed to see condensed "highlight reels" put together by others (on a delay of about a week), and they're not allowed to see any of the sexually explicit content. so there's still a whole community of watchers who put together edits or compilations, and then those watchers can tag if they want their content to visible to species on probation. (sometimes edits can slip through the filters and a species on probation gets like two clips of an explicit challenge)
-what does that mean? it means sometimes GP will see "30 minutes of team tulip talking to their systems" or "every time in the last cycle max complains to his system" videos and it just kinda stabs him in the heart. he has a hard time watching them.
-for humanity, this means they see team tulip change in bits and pieces. one week they might behave one way, and then totally different another week, and it's a 50/50 chance on if they'll find out exactly why.
^^all this is only relevant to the first half of the verse^^
-the second half of the verse, which only has one ficlet set in it at the time of posting (my most recent virgil/max ficlet), has different "rules". and that's because they're no longer in the game/challenge system they were in before!
-an alliance was made during some of those challenges between a few teams, and they started lashing out against the system setup itself, eventually managing to break out and take a more formal position of aggression against the pacifist coalition that had put them there to begin with (and they actually aren't pacifist at all). during this time, virgil, rico, and max are all able to get their system implanted enhancements replaced, and this is also when the three of them develop their soul tie!
-a soul tie is the ability to share emotions with another individual of the same species. it requires a near-impossible amount of time spent together and a complete trust in the other individual(s) for a soul tie to take, but the three of them have been through so much that it's not difficult for it to implement itself successfully.
-virgil becomes the face of this faction standing against the coalition, which is why his sense of responsibility feels so much heavier during segments from the second half. max and rico take on some of the "dirtier" work that has to be done, which is one of the reasons they struggle with finding their remaining humanity.
-during the second half of the verse, things are no longer televised constantly. everyone gets snippets and updates at the same time, and there's no longer any insider info on who's thinking what and when. virgil is no longer just defending humanity as a species, but also several others who have come under their umbrella. (stressful!)
-after the system from the first half begins to collapse, the former content filters on species on probation is lifted, and humanity gets access to everything at once! for better or for worse....
I knew you were cooking like crazy, it's like the calm before the storm everytime you disappear. Thank you so much for all the masterworks, seriously it's crazy!!
Also very special thanks for the fluff scrapbook fic!! This is the only work I'll consume from that series because I refuse to get my heart absolutely demolished (I literally worship all your fics, you are fucking amazing, but this verse would destroy me), especially if it's a rareship that's very dear to me
Genuinely thank you so much for all the effort you put in to feed us all, everything's always fucking delicious btw 🫶
awwww thank you!! I did some sprints this morning with @bitingdrivers and that let me get some good work done and wrap up those ficlets :) hopefully next I'll get a few of those older kink prompts wrapped up, if I can find them in my inbox... otherwise I'll just open them again for a little bit!
that's so fair with scrapbook 😭 it's got its sweet moments! but once you know the ending it's a little hard to appreciate the sweet moments for what they are. it just makes the whole series tinted with this overarching sadness. I think the only ever time I've written max and esteban is in one of my omegaverses, but I do love them! scrapbook max and esteban especially <3
1. ohhhhh heimsmont you are so fucked up and complicated… lewis thinking it was before heimsmont but actually it was just early days bevause they get pups sooooo early into their lives UGHHHHH. then the whole scent bag thing and charles and lewis looking at each other like “this is more fucked up than maybe we realize”
2. its funny how you keep posting scrapbook snippets and going “this ones happy guys i promise” as if the knowledge i already hold doesnt make it automatically sad every time. THEY WERE TEACHERS!! THEY WENT ON NIGHTS OUT!! THEY HAD FRIENDS!! THEY WERE PLANNING A LIFE!! THEY WERE GETTING AN APARTMENT!! MAX PRINTED EVERYTHING OUT AND MADES LISTS!! THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO ARGUE OVER CURTAIN COLORS. UGHHHHHHHH oh how i love you scrapbook
lewis and charles are trying so hard to figure out the timeline but the idea of being a teenager responsible for a young pup that's not at all ethically sourced/enrolled is just. unfathomable LMAO. like it's almost cartoonishly evil when you think about it 😭 it's one of those things where someone brings it up as a possibility and everyone else is like "surely not". but... it's true
scrapbook esteban and max <333 they're so cute and domestic and young adults figuring their lives out, I sure hope nothing bad happens to them! such normal problems happening in that ficlet, like esteban overworking and max wanting to drag him out for a night :) but also he's been looking for apartments!!! that's so exciting for them and I just know they'll love picking out curtain colors together <3
1k of scrapbook verse! this is just some cute max and esteban fluff (I promise I'm not lying) <3
Esteban feels the hairs on the back of his neck lift, catching the end of his pen between his teeth and grinning as the door to the empty classroom swings open. Max is holding two smoothies stacked on top of each other, a folder tucked between his elbow and his side, and he has a bag in his other hand, kicking the door shut behind him.
"Got your hands full?"
Max eyes him over the lid of the smoothies as he makes his way over, setting the bag on Esteban's desk before carefully unstacking the smoothies.
"It's all your weird green shit—"
"It's not weird—"
Esteban reaches over to flick him in the forehead, brushing aside some of his hair. He's unable to fight his fond smile as Max leans down to kiss the inside of his wrist, eyes locked on his.
"It's weird. But I brought it anyway."
"Thank you."
Max hooks his foot around a chair and drags it over, sprawling dramatically in it as Esteban pulls his food out of the bag. Esteban fights his grin, biting at the inside of his cheek as Max slides further down the longer he waits. Max breaks first, because he always does when they're playing around.
"Ask me what's wrong."
Esteban props his chin on his fist, amused. He knows it's nothing serious, because Max has decided it's worth coming to his classroom and bringing him lunch to whine about it.
"What's wrong?"
"Pierre doesn't think I'm attractive."
Esteban snorts, clapping his hand over his mouth and ducking his head at Max's indignant yelp.
"Esteban! Stop, it's not funny, I'm heartbroken—"
Max sounds more put-out about Pierre's taste in men than heartbroken, but Esteban coos at him anyways, tapping their shoes together.
"Your poor ego. Need me to kiss it better?"
Max perks up immediately, leaning forward.
"Yes."
Esteban shoves his face back with his hand, grinning as he feels small zings travel up his arm.
"Too bad. Why were you asking if Pierre was attracted to you in the first place?"
Max licks his palm, smug as Esteban yanks his hand back in disgust.
"The students were passing notes, it was a whole thing."
"Hmm."
Esteban swivels his chair to kick his feet up on Max's lap, slouching in his seat as Max drapes a forearm across his ankles.
"What're you working on?"
Esteban sighs, glancing sideways at the papers on his desk.
"Grading the last pop quiz. They did okay, but I think we're going to have to go over fog sensitivities again, and I hate that course."
Max makes a soft, understanding noise.
"You could ask Jev? Danny used to talk about how he was more fog sensitive because of his affinity, maybe he can come be a guest speaker."
It's not a half bad idea, and Esteban considers it for a moment before nodding.
"That's a good thought. I'll text Daniel later."
Max rubs small circles into his ankle with his thumb, reaching over to steal a bite of food.
"Pierre and I were talking about going into the city tonight with some of the others, if you would be up for it?"
He really shouldn't— he's only halfway through grading— but he can't deny that he'd like to go out for a night with some friends. The increasingly rare moments where he gets to be Esteban and not Professor Ocon are important to him, and he knows Max values them as well.
"If you can promise that you and Charles won't get us kicked out of another restaurant, then yes."
Max makes a face, and Esteban can't help his laugh, digging his heel lightly into Max's thigh.
"It's one night. I know you're both capable of being civil."
They can manage it for special occasions, but Esteban isn't totally convinced that a night out in the city is enough of a special occasion.
"I try, he's just so annoying, I don't know how he manages it. Or how Pierre puts up with it."
Esteban raises an eyebrow.
"Max, he's saying the same thing to Pierre about you."
Max leans forward to take one of Esteban's puzzle boxes off of his desk, rolling his eyes.
"Well obviously that is untrue."
They're definitely getting kicked out of a restaurant tonight.
"Sure it is. But yes, I'll come out with you all."
Max grins, the air around them popping a few times.
"Good. It's hard to drag you out of your office sometimes."
"That's rich, coming from you."
There was a time where Esteban couldn't get through to Max for anything. It's so far behind them now that he barely remembers how it had felt to get walled out every time he was concerned, left to worry on the sidelines as Max got increasingly more self-destructive.
They're both better about communicating now, but sometimes they need each other to drag them out of their heads.
He takes another bite, glancing over at the clock.
"What do you have for the rest of your day?"
Max shrugs, focused on the puzzle box.
"Climbing lessons with the littles, I think. How the fuck does this open?"
Esteban quirks a grin.
"If I told you, it would take all the fun out of it."
Max doesn't look up from the box, but his eyes narrow, and he can feel the hair on his arms raise as he focuses.
"There's nothing fun about it."
"You could always ask Charles to open it?"
He barely gets through the offer before one of the lightbulbs at the far end of the classroom pops, and breaks out into laughter as Max glares at him.
"I brought you lunch, you asshole."
Esteban can't hold back his giggle as he flaps a hand, glancing at Max before having to look away and laugh again.
"It was just an offer."
Max lets his feet drop off of his lap as he stands, still holding the puzzle box, gesturing with it in his hand.
"No, fuck you, I'm going to figure this out before dinner."
Esteban looks up fondly at him, still smiling.
"Let me know how that goes. Thank you for lunch, Max."
Max takes his smoothie off the desk, pointing at him with the box as he steps towards the door.
"You're laughing, but I'm going to get it open one way or another."
Esteban chokes on his own smoothie for a second, eyes narrowing.
"Don't you dare hit it with lightning."
Max shrugs innocently, eyes sparkling.
"I'll buy you a new one?"
"Max—!"
It falls on deaf ears as Max leaves the room, and Esteban rolls his eyes, setting his smoothie down as he notices that his boyfriend has left his folder behind.
He leans forward to flip it open, mildly curious to see how Max goes about his "lesson plans", but the first page is a printed out website, and he furrows his brows. Once he realizes what he's looking at, he feels a stab of fondness so fierce he thinks it might overwhelm him, flipping through the next several pages.
The pages are lists of apartments, each listing with handwritten notes from Max on potential pros and cons, and he wants to chase him back down the hallway and kiss him.
He doesn't, because one of the students would definitely see and he'd be hearing about it for months, but he wants to. Instead, he pulls out his phone, navigating to Max's contact, always near the top of his texts.
2k of heimsmont! this is split into two chunks, with one chunk being young max and nico, and the second chunk being lewis/nico and charles/max after graduation. winter markets and family time! gen, but lewis and charles are starting to have some concerns...
Nico secures the buttons at the top of Max's coat, checking to make sure his leather gloves are tugged securely up his fingers and hidden under his coat sleeves. Max purrs gently under his hands, watching him with wide eyes as Nico blows out a quick breath before standing. His own things are second nature— his gloves are the perfect amount of worn in, custom fit to his hands, and he adjusts his scarf around his neck before extending his hand down and wiggling his fingers.
"Ready?"
A small hand finds his own, and Nico resists the urge starting to nestle in his chest, the one demanding that he pick up his puppy and just carry him to the car down the path. Max has two working legs, and it's good that he uses them. He holds his puppy's hand a little tighter just in case, giving a small smile to the beta who swings open the car door for the backseat.
Now he crouches down, arms wrapping around Max to lift him into the car, watching attentively as Max fits the seatbelt before he walks around the back of the car, stepping up into his side. The winter market is just under an hour away, and he'd selected it as one of the excursions for him and Max this year. He knows the locals always do a beautiful job, glittering lights strung up between buildings and stalls full of goods, and he's hoping to find some handmade kitchenware to add to their dorm.
Max leans towards his window, trying to see out the glass, and Nico sharpens his scent slightly as he grabs his pup by the back of the collar and tugs him back into his seat, raising a brow when Max looks at him with the beginnings of a frown.
"Fix your face, Max. You can see perfectly well from your seat."
His pup's frown disappears as his scent smooths over— it's a bit rough still, a disjointed transition that's too easy to notice, but it's better than it had been a few months ago, thanks to the constant reminders from Nico.
His pup has a bit of a stubborn streak, and Nico's found that it helps more to direct the stubbornness in another directions rather than try to eliminate it entirely. In this case, it means he catches Max glancing sideways a few times, trying to get a better view out the window.
Nico pulls his handwritten list out of his pocket, glancing across the lines again, making sure he hadn't missed anything.
-kitchenware
-new glass lampshade for downstairs nesting space
-hand bound leather journal
-pens for Max
-present for Max
He refolds the list and tucks it back into his pocket, watching Max for a moment. His nose, cheeks, and ears get red in the cold, no matter how thick of a scarf Nico wraps around him. Even two layers of complete cashmere hadn't been enough the eliminate the rosy flush.
"Max."
Max looks over at him, scent shifting to milky sweet softness, the typical scent of a pup to their dame. Nico reaches over, brushing his index finger down Max's nose with a small tap, watching his eyes crinkle up as he grins.
"Scent, Max."
Max's nose wrinkles with concentration, but his sent evens out a moment later, wobbly and unpracticed. Nico rewards him with a quiet purr.
He has a hard time being strict with Max— his puppy is too little and sweet, eager to learn and sensitive to even the subtle changes in Nico's own scent.
He knows he's not supposed to spoil Max too much, but they get a bit more leeway in the first few years with their pups, so he's already resigned himself to carrying him through the market, looking forward to how he knows Max will be entranced by the lights.
It'll be a good moment for Max to look back on when he's older and Nico is gone, or even when Heimsmont gives him a pup of his own.
Nico pulls off his glove to reach over and scent Max, wrist brushing against his cheeks before he slides the leather back on. Not that anything would happen to either of them— Heimsmont would never let them be endangered like that— but the idea that people at the market will be able to tell they're pup and dame warms his chest. Sometimes he manages to forget that Max isn't biologically his, that he isn't Max's original dame.
He's his pup's dame in the ways that matter, here and now, and he's who Max will remember as he gets older, and even when he's graduated Heimsmont and in a pack of his own. It's why Nico wants to make precious memories like this one, before Max is old enough to feel the sharper edges of the school.
Max purrs carefully at him, a sweet puppy purr, and Nico lets his scent soften around them. It's easier in the private car with a divider between them and the driver up front.
Like this, in their own bubble, he could almost pretend like he's a graduated omega, and Max is one of his pack pups.
------
"Lewis,"
Lewis winces. It's Nico's what-the-fuck-are-you-wearing voice, soft and steady, entirely innocent sounding, and it's never a good sign.
He turns back to bedroom to see his mate standing in the doorway, scarf looped over one arm, wearing a winter coat that Lewis thinks might be worth the entirety of his last points bonus. He notices the issue immediately.
Nico is wearing blue, and Lewis is wearing green.
His mate's scent doesn't give anything away, but Lewis has learned over the years the tiny intricacies that mean annoyance, and he knows that this afternoon is more important to Nico than many of their other events.
"I'll change."
Nico is in lighter shades of blue, so Lewis will go with navy and cream, something that keeps them matching without being completely identical.
It's at least better than the green.
When he steps back out of their bedroom again, Nico's scent softens with a quiet purr.
"That's much better."
Lewis steps forward, brushing his wrist along Nico's neck and wrapping his arms around him, projecting his scent until he feels Nico start to relax.
"It'll be alright, Nico."
Nico huffs, but he doesn't pull away.
"What if he doesn't remember?"
Lewis rumbles at him, trying his best to soothe the uncharacteristic anxiety. He's only ever seen Nico anxious when it comes to Franz— or Max, technically— but then again, if he'd reunited with a pup of his own after not seeing each other for years, he'd be even more anxious. It's a testament to the Heimsmont education that Nico is as composed as he is at all.
"Then you'll make new memories."
------
Max and Charles are easy to spot at the winter market, considering Charles is trying to give a reindeer a carrot, and Max is watching on fondly, seemingly unconcerned as the reindeer tries to eat Charles' hair.
Nico's scent sweetens next to him, and Lewis opens his mouth to call out to them. He doesn't need to, because Max glances up and spots Nico, mouth curving into a grin as he and Lewis walk over. Nico immediately pulls the other omega into a hug, their scents curling together, and Lewis steps over to clap Charles on the shoulder.
"Pretty sure you're supposed to let him eat the carrot, man, not you."
Charles brightens when he realizes who's speaking to him, pulling Lewis into a hug as well.
"Lewis! Yes, I was trying to give him the carrot, but he is seeming to like my hair better."
Lewis takes the carrot, snapping it in half before offering one piece to reindeer, watching fondly as it disappears out of his hand.
"We should bring the McLaren boys here and see what happens."
Charles covers his abrupt laugh with a cough, turning his head away as Lewis grins.
"They will call that sabotage, I think."
Lewis shrugs, looking back over at their mates. Nico is peeking under Max's scarf at his mating bite, and Charles shifts nervously next to him.
"Hamilton, mate, your omega is terrifying."
Lewis bites back a grin, but his own scent takes on a warm tinge of fondness.
"He's not that scary."
Charles glances sideways at him.
"Yes, he is."
Max and Nico step back over, and Lewis can catalogue the similarities— they have the same leather winter gloves, the only brand that Nico will buy each winter, and Max wraps and tucks his scarf the same way that Nico does, the excess resting on the left side.
Nico doesn't immediately tear Charles a new one, which is a surefire sign that he approves of the bite, and Max steps forward to politely let Lewis scent him, wrists brushing together. They've started to form their own little pack, and Lewis can't believe how large of a difference he's seen in his mate now that his pup is back in his life.
Max brushes his shoulder against Nico's before looking over at Charles, voice still carrying that unplaceable accent that Lewis has found all Heimsmont omegas have.
"Nico took me here when I was younger once."
Nico very nearly doesn't get control of his scent fast enough— a quick snap of dame scent and deep fondness slips through before it's back to a casual scent, but Max's lips twitch upwards as he glances over at the older omega.
"Yes, I remember it. It was beautiful."
He pauses, eyes sparkling.
"Especially because you carried me everywhere."
For Max to be small enough to carry, it must have been before Heimsmont. Lewis tries not to pry about the timeline of Nico and his pup, even if it keeps him awake at night sometimes.
Nico lets out a soft purr, reaching out to adjust Max's scarf.
"That is the only time I did that."
Max makes a so-so motion with his hand.
"You carried me when I was sick as well."
"Quit spilling my secrets."
Nico takes a step toward the market, Max right at his side, and Lewis and Charles fall in slightly behind them, content to let their mates lead the way through the market. Lewis waits until the two omegas are discussing a purchase in a stall together before he looks over at Charles thoughtfully.
"Do you know when Nico had him?"
Charles' mouth twists in a frown.
"Non. Max is very cagey about it, every time I try and ask we somehow end up talking about something else."
Lewis sighs.
"Nico is the same way. I don't want to pry, it's just— they're not that far apart. And they were separated so long. He had a bag for the first few years I knew him, and it had vacuum sealed scented items from Max."
Charles furrows his brows, head quirking to the side.
"What? Max has a bag like that. I've never seen him open any of them though."
"He does?"
That's... odd. There's no way to look at it that isn't odd, and Lewis isn't sure how he feels about it.
Charles looks at him, and he can tell he's thinking the same thing. At the same time, he can tell they've both reached identical conclusions— no matter how they ask, they're not getting a straight answer.
His gaze drifts back to their mates, shoulder to shoulder as they discuss the difference between one handmade nesting blanket and another, both so clearly pleased to be spending time together, and tries to push down the unease he can feel settling in his gut.
2.4k of tulip verse! rico isn't physically present in this fic but he's definitely still present.
max/virgil, referenced rico/virgil/max, biting as a grounding technique, hints to some really questionable coping mechanisms, no sex but still intimacy.
"You look happy."
Virgil lifts his head from his palms at Max's voice. He's standing in the doorway, damp hair pushed back by a headband, but he's wearing one of Rico's shirts, the same way Virgil is.
"Ah,"
Virgil leans back in his chair, flapping a hand towards the datapad on the desk in front of him.
"You want to handle it?"
Max wanders over, resting his arms over the back of Virgil's chair and looking over his shoulder. It's a disgruntled message about the crop output on a star system Virgil doesn't even remember coming under their banner— he hasn't figured out the best way to say sorry, who are you again? without sounding rude.
Max only skims half of it before giving up and huffing, leaning his head against Virgil's gently.
"No, I don't want to handle it. But if you need me to, I can go out there and start firing?"
Virgil lets his eyes drift shut for a moment, smelling the artisan shampoo Rico had found a few cycles ago that they've stocked their bathroom with. Max has the ever-lingering scent of fuel that means he's been messing with their ship, which is probably the reason he's not nagging at Virgil for working on what's technically a rest day— he's just as guilty.
"Not that kind of problem solving, babe."
Max sighs, equally as exhausted.
"Of course not. When did we even bring them in?"
He shrugs, twisting the chair so that he can tug Max closer, arms around his waist. His heartbeat is steady under his ear, metal palm coming to rest between Virgil's shoulders.
"I can't even remember. It's not that far from Rico's campaign, so it might be from him."
Max is quiet for a moment. Virgil can feel he's unsettled— they both are. Rico is too, he can tell.
"I don't like being split up, Virg."
Virgil scrubs his palm across his face, shoulders heavy. Everything's been heavy lately, always another problem to solve, another grievance to address, someone else trying to cut them off at the knees and put a bolt in their heads.
"I don't either. But we're only three, and we agreed on this."
It had only taken them a few cycles of near-constant arguing about who to send where, and how to prioritize— more important to have two at the front, where Rico is running a campaign, or more important to have someone else protecting Virgil?
"It'll wrap up faster if we both go out there."
...And so the current argument begins again. Virgil pushes up from his chair as Max crosses his arms, sending a mental ping to shut the door to his office and soundproof it. Max's eyes flick over as the door slides shut before narrowing as he looks back at him.
"You know I'm right."
Virgil pushes a hand through his hair, fingers skimming over one of the small braids.
"It's not about if you're right or not, Max. You are. It's about how it looks."
He feels Max getting defensive, their tie to Rico starting to stir slightly. He tries to push down his frustration with the situation— the last thing they need is to worry Rico while he's in a different system.
Max's mouth is downturned, gaze hard.
"It looks like we're pushing together as a team."
"Into where, Max? Largely occupied space? What kind of message does it send when all three of us go to the front for a combined push in that system?"
"Virg—"
"It looks like we're making a push for one of the Citadels. It already looks like we're making a push for a Citadel, no matter how many appeasing messages I send. If you and I go join, they will glass this entire system."
Max's frustration brushes against his own, a roiling and snappish thing. He and Rico are similar in that way, always wanting a target for their anger and anxiety, something they can kill to feel safer.
"But Rico is alone—"
He cuts off as Virgil folds a palm across his mouth, choosing to diffuse instead of argue. Sometimes it's easier with Max, especially when he isn't actually angry with Virgil.
"I need you here, with me."
It's the crux of the issue that the three of them had agreed on— Virgil isn't safe on his own without one or both of them around. There's too many threats, and he's too vital to risk. Max had eventually agreed with Rico then, and he'll agree again now, he just needs to be frustrated first.
His shoulder slump as he leans forward into Virgil, the sharp defensiveness receding and getting replaced with a soft worry. Virgil feels Rico brush faintly against both of them, a slip of reassuring presence.
They're all okay.
"I just wish I could do something about it."
Virgil presses their foreheads together, pushing a gentle swell of understanding.
"I know. I do too."
He can feel Max cooling down already. He's always easier to manage than Rico is with these issues, quick to anger but relatively easy to soothe.
Max takes a step back, tugging Virgil away from the desk, organic fingers wrapping around his wrist.
"Come on, you're not even supposed to be in your office today."
Virgil sends a ping to open the door, letting Max lead him by the hand out of his workspace, sliding his grip to twine their fingers together.
"You aren't supposed to be working either."
Max guides them to the left, further into their private space. The doorway chips twice as they pass through, confirming their biometrics.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Virgil squeezes his hand in a teasing reprimand.
"Oh, is that why you smell like fuel?"
Past the kitchen, past their hosting space, further back into the hallways.
"I always smell like fuel."
Something is off about Max still. It's subtle, but Virgil can feel it. Max takes them past the gym, past the pool, and all the way into the most fortified section of the base where their bedroom is tucked away.
"Max,"
The door slides shut before Virgil can ping it himself, and he feels Rico brush against their tie in question— just his tie with Virgil, a silent warning to check on Max. As if he could miss it.
"Sorry for arguing with you."
Virgil blinks at him, head quirking slightly.
"Sorry...? Max, that's fine. I appreciate getting feedback from both of you, I don't want yes men."
Max is shrinking away from their tie, trying to hide his emotions. It's futile and they both know it.
"But it's—"
He runs a hand through his hair with a sharp sigh.
"It's like you said, with the optics. We need to look united, we need to look more than united."
Virgil pushes a quick reassurance at Rico. He can handle this by himself, no need for a call. He's fairly confident he knows what it's about anyways.
"That doesn't mean you can't have a different opinion, Max. It just means we can't have any major disagreements in the middle of diplomatic meetings."
A small burst of frustration glances across their tie as Max's fingers tighten in his hair. It's his metal hand this time, the cold metal a hard contrast to the dark blonde.
"We're supposed to be one brain, we shouldn't be disagreeing to begin with."
There it is.
Virgil steps forward, curling his hand around Max's metal wrist, tugging it down and away. Max lets him, emotional turmoil evening out into a steady thrum of distress as he glances away to look at the wall. Virgil tries to push some of his own steady calm, coming into Max's space, making as many physical points of contact as possible.
"That bullshit is propaganda, Max. We share feelings, we can ping each other short messages, but those are all artificial enhancements— we're still human at our cores. We're not the same person sharing a brain, we're individuals. That's the strength."
The metal under his wrist flexes for a moment. Max's voice goes soft, quiet in the room with just the two of them.
"I don't feel very human anymore."
Virgil's hand finds the back of his neck, getting a gentle but firm grip and tilting his head up.
"What do you feel like?"
Max looks up at him, but at least it's not through him. They've had close calls before, worse with him than Rico or Virgil experience. He's leaning slightly into Virgil's hand, letting it ground him.
"I feel like an attack dog. When you tell me or Rico to kill someone."
Virgil doesn't let his feelings show on his face, watching Max's eyes closely, lowering his voice.
"Do you like it that way, when I order it? It absolves you of the responsibility."
Max's breathing is steadying, each breath a little slower, a little deeper, eyes darkening.
"Yeah,"
It's a soft breath, but Virgil doesn't miss how he's still tracking him. The awareness never really turns off with him and Rico now, always some part of their brain ready to launch directly into action.
But sometimes, with the right encouragement, Virgil can get them to slow down.
"You like doing what I tell you to do?"
Another slow breath. Virgil can feel the distress starting to ebb, replaced by the bone deep loyalty he knows is constant. Max's eyes are half lidded, but he's still watching Virgil, waiting for a cue.
"S'easy."
He's slowing down.
Virgil tugs them both backwards, letting himself fall onto the bed and pulling Max down with him. Max lands the way he always does— one arm at the back of Virgil's head, body over his, metal hand by his thigh in case he needs to manifest one of his guns.
He keeps one hand squeezed at the back of Max's neck, gaze steady as he looks at him.
"Take my shirt off for me."
Max blinks, his tie to Virgil settling easily. He wants to listen, wants to do what Virgil wants, he always does— but sometimes Virgil needs to ask him to do easy things.
He's careful as he gets Rico's shirt off, his warm palm resting against Virgil's sternum, feeling the rise and fall of each breath, waiting patiently for his next direction.
Virgil slides his palm from the back of his neck to his mouth, pressing one thumb past his lips, running it along the tops of his teeth.
"Bite me."
He doesn't need to say it twice— Max drops his head down, teeth grazing across his collarbone, sinking in just enough to sting. Virgil can feel him start to settle into contentment, mouthing along his shoulder and down his chest, sometimes taking extra time to nip at the skin. He keeps one hand at the back of Max's neck still, a solid grip, a reminder that while he may be letting Max do what he wants, Virgil is in charge.
He leans his head back with a soft groan when Max bites a little harder, testing the waters. His fingers tighten, but he lets the pleasure flicker across their tie lightning quick, smug as he feels Max lean into it.
"Harder."
The next bite draws blood, a sharp sting that switches to a dull throb across his side as he sucks in a sharp breath. Max licks across the bite in apology, drifting away into the familiar place that Virgil likes to keep both him and Rico in when they're stressed.
They listen better with blood in their mouths and his hands on their skin, guiding them where he wants him. It used to be more difficult to get them here, back when they still tried to feel their own guilt, but he's mostly broken them of the habit.
He'd taken on responsibility for his own actions, he's currently taking responsibility for humanity as a species— what's the guilt of two more people in the face of that? Especially when the two people are his Soul Ties, the other pieces of him.
He pets across the back of Max's neck, always sure to keep as many points of contact as possible.
"Again."
He expects Max to pick a different spot, and it leaves him unprepared for him to sink his teeth exactly where they'd been a moment ago.
"Fuck—"
He tries to arch up into it to get away from the sensation, but Max keeps him down even as Virgil tightens his grip on his neck, starting to squeeze. It's a small battle of wills, Max testing his limits.
He needs to trust that Virgil will keep him in line.
Virgil breathes through it, focusing on staring at the ceiling and not the ache in his side. He doesn't yank Max away or scold him, just lets him take what he needs until Max figures out that he's not getting a reaction.
A moment later, Max lets go. There's warmth dripping down the his side, and the air feels cool against the bite, but Virgil's point is made. He'd maintained control over the situation the way they both knew he would.
He doesn't mind giving reminders. He can feel the skin repairing itself already, muscles weaving back together, and he drags Max up to lay more solidly on top of him. His eyes are half lidded, blood smeared across his lips, and Virgil can feel deep contentment through their tie.
Virgil licks his thumb before brushing it across some of the blood, wiping it away as Max settles even further, limbs heavy on top of him. They won't be leaving their room for a while, but that's fine— Virgil has a datapad tucked under the pillow he can use once Max is asleep.
Normally it's a bit messier when all three of them are together, since it leaves one set of hands free to hold someone down, but Max hadn't needed all of that, just a gentle reminder.
Virgil runs a hand through his hair, scratching across his scalp. It's getting long, and while he knows Max doesn't mind pulling it back for a few cycles here and there, he's sure there's a hairdresser somewhere in the system that he can ask to come visit them.
Rico brushes up against him again in their tie, and Virgil sends reassurance. Rico likes to worry, and they'll be getting a call later, but Virgil knows if he'd thought there was truly an issue, he'd be taking the first flight back.
In the meantime, the Soul Tie is an easy way for them to check on each other, even if one of them is in the different system. Virgil presses up against his tie with Max, feeling him drop off into sleep, his prior discontentment nowhere to be found.
There will be more issues when they wake up— there always is— but this one, at least, was an easy fix.
Oh dearest sunny i am incredibly endeared by fmf ver2 ♥️❤️♥️
This is both touching and hilarious
Max: I will kill you here if you fail to provide
Rico: Why yes dear, of course dear ♥️
Fmf has many great parts but I think this one already became my favorite. Im loveingly patting your big wonderful brain❤️
awwwww thank you!! I'm very endeared by them also 🫶🫶🫶
rico is so deeply in love with his murder husband that he sees nothing wrong with being taken to an isolated secondary location to be told about ritualistic mate killing <3
YAAAAAY I love brain pats. brain pats produce more words :)
"Rico knows hardly anything about the terrifying creatures, save for the fact that they're part of Max's crest— maybe more, when he lays awake at night thinking about it. "
have they not talked about max being part winreem? do they ever talk about it or is it just like some unspoken thing lol
also do the twins get any winreem traits?
rico's got some willful ignorance going on as far as the "my prince consort has lizard traits" because he doesn't really want to think about it that hard. better for everyone that way <3
plus, max is inclined not to give away too many things about it. he and victoria are raised to treat it kind of like an inherited blessing, and they're both pretty protective of it! even mick doesn't know everything about it besides the obvious.
its virgil's bday today 🥳🥳 how are dutch throuple celebrating :3
I missed it and it was yesterday!!! but trust that the dutch throuple is having a very nice day together doing all the things that virgil wants and then having a little fun after 👀
2.4k of fmf!! this is post-magical potion and pre-twins, although not by much. max takes rico to the mountains!
rico POV, mentions of mpreg (the magical potion kind), sappy domestic fluff, some kissing but nothing more
Rico grunts as he hauls himself over the ledge, sweating underneath his leathers, fur tickling his nose from the neck of his cloak. Max is waiting for him at the top, eyes curved into a smile, nose tucked under his own scarf, and any irritation that had been building as the icy rocks had dug into his palms immediately dissipates.
Max blinks, one of his odd lizard blinks that he does whenever it rains back home, or in this case— snows on the side of the mountain he's dragged Rico up to. A thin clear eyelid slides across his eyes, gaze never leaving Rico's as he spreads a hand out to gesture at the view.
"Look."
Rico gets to his feet, stepping closer to wrap an arm around Max and tuck him into his side. Max runs warmer than he does anyways, but he's wrapped up especially tight now, winreem scales across his chest and abdomen underneath his leathers, extra furs around his feet and fingers, and the scarf around his neck is a gift from Mick, soft and silvery to match his brother's own leathers.
From here, the setting sun casts a warm glow across the sky, interrupted only by the harsh jut of the mountains, dark blue and icy white sharp against the softer orange and purple of the horizon. Max has led him to an old settlement, crumbling stone foundations laying out where buildings used to stand.
When Rico looks down the mountain, he can see Max's home, stone spires rising out of the craggy rocks, amber lights flickering in the valley. It's beautiful, nestled safely in the shadows of the mountain range, and he feels Max lean into him.
He watches his breath puff into the air on front of him, visible even in the dying light.
"Why didn't anyone stay up here?"
Max lets out a soft laugh, nose still tucked into his scarf.
"The winreems come here to brood. They've been here much longer than us, it was only right that they have the first claim."
Rico nervously glances behind him, half expecting to see a piercing orange eye staring at him through the stones, or perhaps for one of the snowdrifts to rise and reveal a hulking creature intent on eating them both. Max catches his shift and laughs, nudging his elbow lightly into his side.
"Relax, Rico. They are obviously not here now."
Rico shakes off the unease and turns to stare back at the valley, questions dancing on his tongue.
"Why did you bring me here, Max?"
Max gives a soft hum, accompanied by a small shrug. He has one arm folded over his stomach, palm curling over his old wound from Saddik.
"It is tradition, from my mother's side."
He steps away from the ledge and further into the ruins of the settlement, the edge of his fur cloak brushing against the snow. Rico has known him long enough to register his tone as pensive— he's withholding something from him, tiptoeing the line of revealing it or keeping it to himself.
Back in the beginning, Rico might've pressed, uneasy at having secrets kept from him, but he's learned by now that Max doesn't withhold information for no reason. He follows behind him, pausing a few steps away when Max pauses.
"I could kill you here."
His voice is soft, puffing a soft cloud in front of him as he speaks, turning his head only slightly, barely meeting Rico's gaze with slitted pupils.
If it were anyone else, Rico's had would be on his sword by now, but it's Max, his Prince Consort, his wife. His hands stay firmly where they are, even as he feels his heart beat faster.
"Does your tradition demand that of you?"
He keeps his own voice soft in response, watching Max carefully. Max sighs, cloak brushing the snow as his shoulders sag.
"Did I ever tell you how the winreems choose a mate?"
Rico knows hardly anything about the terrifying creatures, save for the fact that they're part of Max's crest— maybe more, when he lays awake at night thinking about it.
"You've never said."
Surely if Max were taking him up here to kill him, someone would have said something. Then again, they're in Max's territory, surrounded by his own people. Any loyalty they have to Rico is held only through Max.
Max tilts his head, eyeing the ruins.
"When it comes nesting season, a winreem will choose a mate to help with eggs. That mate then provides for the season, be that food or protection."
So far, matching Rico's assumptions.
"When it comes time for the eggs to hatch, the brooding winreem judges the mate. If the mating was unacceptable, the brooding winreem kills and eats the mate for sustenance."
Rico's eyes widen, glancing again around the ruins, wondering how many snowbanks contain winreem bones around them. Max huffs a small laugh, turning fully towards him, pupils still slitted.
"Obviously, eating people is barbaric. No one does that anymore."
He steps closer, gaze locked with Rico's, unblinking.
"I love you, Rico. But if I suspect you cannot provide..."
He reaches up, adjusting the clasp of Rico's cloak, gloved fingers brushing against his throat.
"I will bring you here. And I will kill you."
It takes a moment for the implications to settle, but he feels his heart stop when they do, mouth parting soundlessly.
The arm across his stomach, the casual avoidance of too much drink at dinner, bringing Rico to an ancestral brooding site—
Rico had suspected, maybe even hoped, but he hadn't been willing to bring it up until Max was ready. His hands find Max's waist, pulling him closer so he can press a tender kiss to his forehead.
"If I ever fail you or our— our family,"
One of his palms slides to rest across his abdomen, hardly daring to believe.
"I will lead the way here myself."
Max leans forward, resting his warmth against Rico, and he pulls him into a hug, arms snaking around his back. The disbelief is turning to a wondrous joy, because they hadn't even been sure if it was possible.
"How long have you known?"
He runs a hand along Max's back, speaking the words into his hair before pressing another featherlight kiss to his temple. Max leans further into him, more than content to absorb some of his warmth now that his threat has been delivered.
"A few months. I wanted—"
He pauses, breaking his gaze for a moment. Rico understands even without the finished sentence, bringing his other hand to cradle Max's face.
"You wanted to be sure. I understand."
He looks across the ruins again, a small frown forming on his face, but his voice betrays him, a teasing lilt finding its way into his words.
"So this is my grave if I find myself unable to fulfill yours and the babes whims?"
Max's mouth twitches upwards as he steps back, lifting his chin slightly. His eyes are sparkling as he uses his mocking voice for nobles— only ever used behind closed doors with Rico, usually after a terribly long day in court.
"Twenty roast ducks at the table, Your Highness, or I shall feed you to the lizards."
Rico raises his eyebrows, unable to help a smile of his own.
"Twenty? For a Prince Consort as lovely as yourself, surely even thirty would be insulting. What if you were to sacrifice the offending noble lord?"
Max takes a dancing step back across the snow, a playful taunt, an invitation for Rico to take another step forward.
"Now Verhoeven, that almost sounds like you're plotting to dispose of Lord Horner,"
His words are chiding, but only play. Rico lifts his hands in mock surrender, innocently casting his gaze at the sky.
"Far be it from me to assign a Lord most likely to be responsible for such a blunder, my love."
Max sidesteps, and he and Rico begin a casual circle, boot prints crossing over the others in the snow.
"And how many roast ducks would His Royal Highness procure? I hear he has quite the appetite— one can only imagine the babe will be the same."
Rico laughs brightly, daring to take a quick step forward. Max is grinning, hands laced behind his back as he leans forward slightly.
"The King has an appetite? Do the court rumors make no mention of his wife? If the babe gets it from anyone, it would surely be His Grace."
He's seen Max tear through food with his own eyes, he knows he's just as bad as Rico himself.
Max's mouth drops open at the accusation, and he lunges at Rico a moment later, bowling him over into the snow. Rico is careful to grab him so that he lands flat on his back, Max on top of him— he has to be even more careful now with Max, and try and do it in ways Max won't get irritated with him for.
Max's thighs straddle the side of his waist as he pokes a finger into Rico's chest.
"Rest assured, King Verhoeven, if the court is discussing my appetite, there will be plenty of offerings to feed the winreems."
Rico feels his gaze soften as he stares at Max above him. He can't see anything different yet, but now that he knows— Max has always been beautiful, but here in his mountains, secluded and private in the ruins, he's radiant.
"You're beautiful."
Max's cheeks flush even as he tucks his chin into his scarf, narrowing his eyes.
"Flattery gets you nowhere."
Rico bites back a smirk.
"It seems to have gotten you on top of me; I would hesitate to call that nowhere."
Max tries to hide an embarrassed cough under his scarf, the red spreading across his face, one hand reaching down into the snow to stabilize himself.
"Me on top of you is how we got in this situation in the first place."
Rico's hands squeeze lightly at his thighs.
"Do you see me complaining, Your Grace? In fact, I— AH—!"
He breaks off with a shrill noise as Max shoves snow down his shirt, jerking upright as he tries to shake it out to the sound of Max breaking out into loud laughter, folded in half with his hands over his face. By the time Rico has stood and disposed of the snow to the best of his abilities, Max is still sitting in the snow giggling at him.
"That is quite enough out of you,"
He lifts Max by the arms and pulls him into a kiss, one hand at the small of his back to keep him in place, drawing it out until Max is making soft pants into his mouth. Only then does he pulls back, staring at his flushed cheeks and lips. Max blinks at him for a second, getting his thoughts back in order.
"That's playing dirty."
Rico raises a brow. He's half tempted to kiss Max again, maybe see if he can really drag it out this time.
"And shoving snow down my shirt isn't?"
Max lifts his chin.
"No, no it is not."
What a beautiful, stubborn, clever, and absolutely bullheaded man. Rico couldn't imagine having married anyone else.
"Right,"
He kisses him again, walks them back carefully until Max's back is hitting stone, pulling all the moves that earn him soft noises muffled into his mouth and gloved fingers pawing at his waist. When he can feel Max start to get demanding he pulls back slightly, pressing a soft peck to his lips and noticing with no small amount of smugness how his pupils are blown.
"Now that you've threatened me successfully, can we go back down where there are fires? And warmth? Maybe even a real bed?"
It's beginning to darken, and Rico doesn't want either of them climbing down the mountain without light, especially not when Max is—
He corrects himself. Max can navigate these mountains better than Rico in any situation, but it doesn't mean he can't be nervous for him.
Max frowns at him, bewildered.
"That's it?"
Rico keeps his smugness internal.
"We're outside, in a sacred space for your ancestors. Yes, that is it."
Max's eyes narrow. He gets spectacularly irritated whenever they start something they can't finish, and Rico only messes with him like this when he knows they have the time for it.
That, and he enjoys how long Max attempts to be spiteful about it before sleeping in bed with him all the same at night.
"I never said it was sacred. Just traditional."
It's more of a grumble than a real protest, but Rico's made his mind up already, and while Max may be built for the cold more than he is, he's certainly not going to test that by stripping either of them of any layers.
"I'll make it up to you when we get back home, my love."
Max glowers at him hard enough that he's more than a little worried about getting more snow in his clothes, but he eventually relents, sighing.
"And thirty roast ducks."
Rico chokes on a laugh as they start to walk back the direction they'd arrived.
"And thirty roast ducks. Any less and I shall personally see to it that Horner is fed to one of the cavern beasts."
Max huffs, casting him a sidelong glance.
"Perhaps we consider that anyways."
He only halfway sounds like he's joking. Rico makes a mental note to start coming up with excuses in case one of the noble lords of his kingdom goes mysteriously missing.
"Maximilian."
He can't see it, but he knows Max has rolled his eyes.
"I'm only joking, Rico. When I get rid of him, it will be much more subtle than that."
"That is not half as reassuring as you mean it to be."
Max turns to grin at him over his shoulder.
"Then it's halfway more reassuring than I intended at all."
There are rumors of a cousin of Horner's who may be scheming to take control of the house— he decides it might be wise to start looking into who takes control when Horner is gone.
He watches as Max swings over the edge of the cliff, climbing down a few handholds to drop onto the ledge below.
Even when he's plotting to remove a nobleman he's endearing— Rico is beyond saving by now, if there were anything to be saved from. He swings down after Max, thankful that the rest of the path is mostly snowy trekking, and less climbing.
"Max."
Max pauses, turning back to him questioningly.
"Are you alright?"
Rico nods, stepping forward to grab one of Max's hands in both of his own.
"I will not give you a reason to bring me back here."
Max's expression gentles, and he steps closer to press a brief kiss to his lips.
