#as for max..... i was hopeful for him too

[crunchchute]

Let's play fizzball!

[charlesslut16]

Can you write a fic (I was thinking about max but you can do any driver really) where the reader and the driver are best friends to lovers in the early days of the drivers career. The reader supported the driver through it all and wants nothing more but for them to succeed. As the drivers career really starts to kick off, the reader falls pregnant. When the driver finds out, (thinking of max here) he thinks he's going to be a terrible father and gets nervous thinking how he may ruin a whole life, he suggests getting rid of the baby and the reader thinks it's cause of his career, tells him she respects the fact that he doesn't want the baby, but she's going to keep it. ANGSTY please

-losing you to trauma-

summary : max is to unsure to have children, to stay with you and raise your daughter...

PAIRING: max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : max leaving reader, angst

note : as i'm a girl of a single mother, whose father did almost the exact same thing, it hurts. But i hope that you still like it!

masterlist

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Max Verstappen's Formula One career was just beginning to take off. He was young, talented, and driven, with an intensity that made his presence felt on the track and off it.

His best friend, you, since childhood, had always been there, cheering him on from the sidelines, through every victory and defeat, every celebration and heartbreak.

You both shared a bond that was unbreakable, an understanding that didn't need words. You had seen Max's potential long before the rest of the world, had believed in him when he was just a boy with a dream and a passion for racing.

And after time, you two had become a couple. A happy one, both driven by the drill of driving and passion. But as Max's career soared, so did the distance between you both. Not in your hearts, but in the time you could spend together.

You understood; you had always known that Max was destined for greatness, and you were content to support him from the background. You never complained, never asked for more than what he could give.

Your relationship had evolved quietly. What started as innocent hand-holding during tough times in your racing careers became something deeper, more profound.

It wasn't long before you crossed the threshold from best friends to lovers, a natural progression that felt right for both of you. You didn't need to label it; you simply knew you belonged together.

But then, life threw the both of you a curveball. You found yourself staring at a positive pregnancy test, the weight of the world suddenly resting on your shoulders. You knew this would change everything, for both.

When told Max, his reaction was far from what you hoped for. Instead of joy, there was fear in his eyes. He looked at you, his face pale and his hands shaking, and said, "I can't do this. I don't know how to be a father. I'll ruin everything. Maybe we should... maybe we should consider not having the baby."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You had expected hesitation, but not this. Not the suggestion to get rid of the life you had created together. Tears welled up in your eyes, but fought them back.

You needed to be strong, for yourself and for the baby.

"Is this about your career?" you asked, her voice trembling but steady. "Are you worried that having a baby will ruin everything for you?"

Max shook his head, but his eyes told a different story. "No, it's not that. I just... I don't want to mess up. I don't want to be a terrible father. I don't want to ruin a whole life because I don't know what I'm doing."

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. "Max, I respect that you're scared. I am too. But this isn't just about you. This is about us, and about this baby. I can't make this decision for you, but I need you to know that I'm going to keep it. I understand if you don't want to be involved, but I have to do this."

His face crumpled, and he pulled you into his arms, holding tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

You clung to him for dear life, tears streaming down your face. "I love you, Max. And I believe in you, just like I've always believed in you. You can do this. We can do this."

But as much as you tried to reassure him, you could feel the chasm widening between. Max was consumed by his fear, by the thought of failing not just as a driver but as a father.

And though he loved you, his terror of the unknown, of the future, was driving a wedge between the both of you. He could never but your love above the insecurity and that broke you to pieces, that could not be set back together.

The months passed, and Max's career continued to flourish. He threw himself into his racing with a ferocity that left little room for anything else. You watched, heart breaking a little more each day, as the man you loved slipped further away from you.

When the baby was born, a beautiful, healthy girl, Max was there. He had not held her, at the side of you and the baby, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and fear. But he still couldn't shake his anxiety, couldn't let go of the belief that he would fail them both.

You knew you had to be strong, not just for yourself, but for your daughter. You had always believed in Max, and would continue to do so. But knew that he had to find his own way, had to come to terms with his fears on his own.

And so, with a heavy heart, you let him go, hoping that one day he would find his way back to them. That he would realize that he could be the father their daughter needed, and the partner she had always believed he could be.

Until then, you would keep supporting him from the sidelines, cheering him on just as you always had. Because that's what you do for the ones you love, even when it breaks your heart.

Deep in your heart, you wanted him to come to your house and say that he was sorry and wanted to be in your lives, but as time passed, you realized that he would never come to terms with it.

His trauma being too deep for him to start a family, you accepted the fact, but you never forgave him for it. You love him with your whole heart, and you always will.

Maybe your ways will meet again, who knew?

[only-goose]

Tinge of Jealousy

A/N: Helloooo again! This is a separate part of a previous request. I'm thinking of writing for other drivers, like Ollie, Kimi, Paul, the Papaya boys, maybe the Ferrari boys. I've only written for Arthur (Ive got one for Ollie) and i was thinking of doing others, obviously after I've finished the ones I'm currently writing. lmk if anyone has any ideas!

Arthur Leclerc x reader

Warnings: little jealousy/possessiveness but not a disgusting amount, creepy men at a bar

Based off this part of a previous request:

“Or maybe something about him being a little jealous and possessive not in a grotesque sense like I had to defend her from someone in a bar or something, like her being too nice by not wanting to walk away so as not to hurt the other person even if it's bothering her (that happens to me often haha😅)”

Arthur had an amazing race weekend, consistently holding podium positions the whole time and to celebrate you both decided to go to the club. You rolled up in Arthur's car, him jogging around to the other side of the car to open the door for you and help you out. He was wearing a light button-up shirt, which accentuated his biceps nicely, with dark pants. You were wearing a dark red dress which showed off all the right places, dipping into your cleavage. You walked into the club, hand in hand.

You found the rest of the drivers and some of their friends and partners. You left Arthur with them as you went to buy drinks. You wander up to the bar, aware of the numerous sets of eyes on you as you walk. You take a seat and tell the bartender your drinks. You've just pulled out your phone to respond to a text from your parents when a figure sits next to you. Initially, you ignore him until he presses the off button on the side of your phone. You look up at him, pissed that he would touch your property. "That's better" the creepy man grumbles.

He had to have been about 6'2, maybe in his mid to late thirties. He had an unkempt, ginger beard and you could tell he was already balding. He was big, with broad shoulders, lumberjack-looking, and scary. His eyes told you things you didn't want to know. "What's a pretty young thing like you doing in a place like this? he murmured in your ear. "I'm here with friends, actually. Just, uhm, waiting for our drinks". Your hands became clammy and started shaking, you were taking shallow breaths, trying your hardest not to freak out. You have never hoped for someone else to be watching you.

"Arthur, mate. I think your girl needs saving. She looks really uncomfortable" Lando spoke to Arthur over the loud music. Arthur looked over at the bar to see you trying your hardest not to panic, however he couldn't see the man who was creeping you out. He made his way over to rescue you when he saw the size of the man. He turned around and walked back to the group. "Hey, umm, guys?" he stammered "I need your help getting Y/N away from this guy". Charles, Lando, Oscar, Carlos, Max, Esteban, Pierre, Logan, Alex, Ollie, Kimi, and Paul all looked at Arthur concerned. "What do you mean, mate?" Kimi asked.

He motioned the group over to where they could all see the man who was trying to harass you, who now had his hand on your thigh and was whispering in your ear. "As much as I was to go punch that guy in the face, I would not win" Arthur said they all gaped at the sheer size of him. Arthur started walking, the 12 drivers hot on his tail. Arthur wrapped his hands around your waist and kissed your temple, silently telling you that it was him. "That's my girlfriend you're touching, mate, and you are way too close" Arthur declared, the other drivers staying just out of sight for now. The pervert looked Arthur right in the eyes as he said "I don't see a ring, so as far as I care she is free to do whatever anyone else wants". Arthur felt you shrink into him at the man's ideals. "That is not what it means at all. I am taking my girlfriend and we are leaving"

Arthur moved to pull you up and into him, only to be stopped by the man grabbing your wrist and yanking you into him. "And how are you doing to that when I can easily bash the shit out of you" you shuddered hearing the way the creep was speaking to your boyfriend. Arthur looked the man in the eyes and said "Because I brought friends". You looked over Arthur's shoulder, noticing a dozen drivers all with their arms crossed and fire in their eyes.

The man followed your line of sight, his eyebrows raised as he backed off "fucking weirdos" he grumbled. You turned around and enveloped Arthur in a hug "holy shit that was scary, thank you so much" Arthur pecked your lips "You're welcome mon amour. You have to learn how to say no, though" he chuckled. You turned around and walked over to the still grumpy racers. "Thank you, boys, I had no idea how i was going to get out of that one" there was a range of responses consisting of "you're welcome" "anytime" and "of course" Ollie piped up saying "anything for our Y/N" which cause the other drivers to agree.

Arthur leaned down to whisper in your ear "They're wrong". You looked up at him confused, "You're my Y/N". His confession caused you to let out a laugh, "exactly baby, all yours. Let's go home now, yeah?' Arthur nodded, entwining your hands and leading you to his car.

[xyvyl]

One More Race - Chapter 1 - Y/N

Summary: New to formula 1, Dutch driver Y/N L/N. F2 and F3 world champion, now racing for Lamborghini in F1. The only woman racing in F1 right now.

Chapter song: Legend - The Score

Word count: 1375

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2iH7vTDNnObb2HMBDuRhrY?si=9ec8ffb7ec164637

A/N: taglist open!

---------------🏎️---------------

Lights out and away we go!

The words ring in my ears as I start driving. Starting from P4 isn't bad, but George, Charles and Max were in front of me. Max obviously sped off, Charles following close behind.

I managed to pass George after turn 1, but Charles and Max already had a big gap between us.

After 5 laps I managed to catch up to charles and almost pass him, but turn 13 fucked it up.

“How much time is between me and leclerc?” I ask through the radio. “0.7 second, keep it up, you're almost in the DRS zone.” “copy.”

I do my best to keep this distance until the DRS zone, once in I manage to pass him with ease, putting me in P2.

Luckily Charles couldn't pass me, except for when I pitted, but i quickly regained my spot.

---------------🏎️---------------

“P2, P2. good job!”

I sit in silence for a while, driving in the car. P2? In the first race of the season? First race of my career in f1? P2?!

“Y/N?” I hear my engineer, shaking me out of the daze I was in.

“P2? Are you serious?” “very”

“WOOOO! P2 BABY!” I yell in excitement as I pull up to the p2 stand, getting out of the car.

I quickly take off my helmet to see who I ended up on the podium with.

“Max? Natuurlijk ben jij P1!" (of course you’re P1!) I congratulate Max, turning around to see Charles’ car pull into the p3 stand.

“Charles! Congrats man!” I walk up to his Ferrari, hugging him as soon as he climbs out of his car.

“Congrats Y/N you did amazing!”

I smile and run to my team, “P2 baby!” “Where did Logan end?”

“He got P8.” My mouth drops, p8? That's such an improvement from his time with Williams!

---------------🏎️---------------

The cooldown room was quiet when I entered it, probably because Max and Charles were too busy chugging their water bottles.

I sigh in contentment and grab my own water bottle, drinking every last drop.

“Congrats on P2 in your very first F1 race, Y/N.” Charles claps me on the back, making me almost choke on my water.

Max laughs in the background and I glare at him as I swallow my water.

“Thanks Charles, you did a great job as well! And Max?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope you choke on your water” I smile at him, making Charles burst into laughter.

“Wow! Okay! What happened to, ‘beetje medelijden voor een mede-Nederlander'?" (A little compassion for a fellow Dutchman?) Max fakes being hurt as I stick my tongue out to him.

---------------🏎️---------------

Standing on the podium feels the same, yet so different from F2 and F3… nevertheless, it's an amazing feeling. Standing there, the trophee in my hands and champagne next to me and millions of people watching me stand there next to Max and Charles. The Dutch national anthem in the background.

I laugh as I put the trophee down and grab the champagne, already being targeted by both Charles and Max.

I launch the bottle down to the floor as the liquid starts spraying everywhere, mostly at Max and Charles, but also my team who are below the stands.

Everything seems to go in slow motion as I put the bottle to my mouth and drink the liquid, Max and Charles doing the same.

The first woman to stand on the F1 podium..

---------------🏎️---------------

“Y/N!” I turn around and see Logan running up to me.

“Logan! Congrats on P8!” I give him a hug, smiling.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to come with us to get dinner, to celebrate.” He smiles when I nod.

“Wait, you said ‘us’ who else is going?” I question him.

“You, me, Max, Charles, George, Lando, Lewis, Carlos and Oscar.” He smiles, making me smile.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!” I exclaim as I run to my black lambo, Logan following closely behind.

The ride there wasn't too long, since the restaurant was almost next to our hotel, which isn't too far from the track either.

“We're here, ready to celebrate?” Logan grins as he turns the car off.

I nod, a huge smile on my face as I get out of the car.

I wait for a hot minute to wait for Logan as he gets out of the car.

“Let’s go!” I exclaim as I speed walk into the restaurant. As soon as I enter I see the others sitting at the reserved table.

“Hi guys!” I smile as I sit down next to Lando, who smiles at me. Logan takes the seat next to me.

“We thought you guys weren't coming.” Max jokes, making me stick out my tongue at him. “Ha ha, very funny Max, why wouldn't we come? We had amazing results!” I laugh, making the rest of the table laugh too.

“Have you seen twitter lately?” Lando asks me, “No, why?”

“You're getting mixed responses to being the only woman on the grid..” His response made me look at him confused.

“I take it I shouldn't look at it?” I smile, already knowing the answer.

Lando only confirmed it by nodding his head. I put my phone back in my purse and grabbed the menu.

“Did you guys already order?” Most of the table shook their heads.

“We wanted to wait until you two were finally here.” Lewis smiles at me.

The waiter comes and we all order. After we got our food and started eating, I took a second to look around the table.

All talented male drivers, and me, a female driver who somehow got a seat with Lamborghini..

I sigh and Carlos notices, looking at me with a look that says, ‘are you okay?’, to which I nod. When I start eating I notice in the corner of my eye that Lando is looking at me, but I pay it no mind and enjoy the food in front of me.

---------------🏎️---------------

After we all finally finished our food, we paid separately and went on our way. Me, Lando and logan staying behind for a little.

“So.. how was your first ever F1 race?” Lando asked and I could sense the awkwardness in his voice.

I smile, “Amazing, the whole grid is nice, our team is great! The car is just… wow, I don't have enough words to describe this feeling.” Logan and Lando smile at that as the valet comes out with Logan’s car.

I give Lando a hug and we get in the car.

“How was your food?” I ask Logan, trying to make conversation.

“It was good, yours?” okay.. We're both awkward..

I nod and look out the window, enjoying the view.

---------------🏎️---------------

I dropped myself on my bed, the hotel we're staying at was amazing, comfortable beds, huge bathroom, just amazing. 

Logan's room isn't far from mine, literally next to mine.

I sigh, a smile on my face as I look towards the giant window overlooking the race track. A ping comes from my phone. It's Logan,

‘Plane leaves at 8, meet at my room at 6?’

I quickly reply, ‘I'll be there!’

8 am.. So early…

I roll my eyes at the time.

I get up from the bed and walk to the bathroom, getting ready for bed.

When I return I see my phone on my bed, exploding with messages, both from messages and twitter.

I remember what Lando said at dinner, ‘You’re getting mixed responses to being the only woman on the grid..’ 

I pick up my phone and decide to look at the messages first, seeing messages from almost the whole grid, but mostly Lando and Logan.

‘Don't listen to whatever they say’ -Lando

‘If you want to talk, i'm here’ -Logan

‘Twitter doesn't know anything, you're an amazing driver and friend’ -Lando

‘I think they might be blind, you got p2 all on your own’ -Lando

‘You're an amazing friend, teammate and driver and you're a world champion in f2 and f3! Don't listen to them!’ -Logan

Their messages put worry in me and I hesitated clicking on the twitter icon..

But I eventually did and what I read and saw…

[skywalker1dream]

Title: Thrilling ride

note: sorry i was gonna post it sooner and it should have been longer too, but i had the most stressful day today....hope you like it, hope you are having good day or night, drink water and eat healthy..byee

Summary: It's the height of Max Verstappen's "Mad Max" era, where he is known for his fierce driving and even fiercer temperament. You, a popular figure in the F1 paddock, find yourself caught in the middle of Max's jealousy as he watches you chat with other drivers. Tension runs high, leading to a heated confrontation and an intense make-out session that neither of you will forget.

Warnings: Jealousy, heated arguments, thats all?

--------------

You moved through the paddock, exchanging friendly banter with the drivers. Your laughter mingled with the hum of activity as you chatted with Charles Leclerc, your old friend from childhood.

"Good luck today, Charles," you said with a bright smile.

"Thanks, belle. I'll need it with Max on the prowl," Charles replied, glancing over your shoulder.

You turned to see Max Verstappen, his intense gaze locked on you. His jaw was set, and a storm brewed in his piercing blue eyes. Known as "Mad Max" for his aggressive driving style and fiery temperament, he was a force to be reckoned with on and off the track.

You excused yourself from Charles and walked over to Max, who looked like he was barely containing his jealousy.

"Hey," you greeted, trying to keep things light.

"Hey," he replied curtly, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over at Charles. "Having fun with Leclerc?"

You sighed, knowing where this was heading. "Max....he's just a friend. We've known each other since we were kids."

Max's eyes flashed with something darker. "Doesn't look like just friends to me."

You rolled your eyes, frustration bubbling up. "You're overreacting. It's just a conversation."

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "You know how I feel about you talking to other drivers like that, konijntje."

"Like what, Max? Like a normal human being?"

"Like flirting," he snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

Your heart raced, both from anger and the undeniable attraction between you two. "You're being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous, am I?" He took another step, his body almost touching yours. "Maybe I need to remind you who you belong to."

Before you could respond, his lips crashed onto yours with a fervor that took your breath away. The world around you blurred as you melted into the kiss, all the anger and tension dissolving into raw passion.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, as his hands gripped your waist possessively. The kiss deepened, tongues battling for dominance, a mix of heat and need fueling the moment.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Max's eyes were still dark with jealousy, but now they held a glint of satisfaction.

"You drive me crazy, schatje," he murmured against your lips.

"You make me crazy too, Max," you admitted, resting your forehead against his.

He smirked, his possessiveness tempered by a rare softness. "Just remember, you're mine."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'm yours, Max. Always."

As the call for the drivers to their cars echoed through the paddock, Max gave you one last, searing kiss before reluctantly pulling away. You watched him go, your heart pounding, knowing that the fire between you two was far from extinguished.

In the high-stakes world of Formula 1, love was as exhilarating and dangerous as the race itself. And with Max Verstappen, every moment was a thrilling ride.

[sinofwriting]

Out Loud - Charles Leclerc

Words: 1,807 Summary: She hasn’t been herself and she knows it’s worrying people, Charles. She just can’t get the words out. Note(s)/Warning(s): Reader is Jules Bianchi’s daughter and Charles’ goddaughter. Reader has longish hair. Coming Out (as Bisexual), Some Self Harm, Not Eating, Mentions of Throwing Up, Religious Trauma. Honestly this fic is kind of me just dumping my feelings out after being reminded of my less than great coming out experience as bisexual to my parents. I’m okay, just needed to write this and uh get back into therapy. If I missed a warning, let me know and if anyone reading this needs to talk, I’m here for you. (also, I promise that Dark Max fic is coming, Charles winning Monaco just threw a spanner into my plans and then this fic happened as well)

Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

She’s never said the words out loud. Never spoke them to herself or others. And she isn’t sure why. It can’t because it will make them true. They already are.

And she knows why. It’s not because it will make them true. They already are. It’s because she knows that as soon as she says them once, she’ll never stop.

The idea of saying them as her shaking, has her stomach twisted in knots, has her throwing up, headaches that won’t leave from all her crying. It’s all self-inflicted because she can’t say the words. And it’s only two words, three if she’s going for proper grammar and yet they won’t leave her. They refuse to spill from her tongue and past her lips. They settle in her throat and strangle her. Leave her gasping for breath, clawing at her throat in hopes that their grip will loosen. But it never works out that way.

Charles is concerned. She sees it every time he looks at her. She’s lost weight, because even though she’s stress eating, when she’s not doing that she’s throwing it all back up, and she cries while doing both. Her face is starting to lean towards gaunt and the circles under her eyes are growing larger. She can only hope that he doesn’t see the bruises on the inner sides of her wrists, on her inner thighs, where she pinches and squeezes, barely even noticing the pain that it causes because it’s something for her fingers to do.

He’s concerned and she knows because Arthur is concerned too. And suddenly Pierre is going to be staying with them for a while, ditching Kika because she apparently has a family trip, no boyfriends allowed, even though she knows from a friend of a friend that Kika and Pierre had plans together in Greece and Bora Bora. Plans that Kika was apparently happy to reschedule.

She’s so lost in her head, in her thoughts, in her wishes that she could just speak that she doesn’t hear the light knock of knuckles on her bedroom door before it opens.

“Pierre is going to be here soon. You should get up, come greet him.” Charles' voice is gentle, always gentle with her, even when she doesn’t deserve it. “I’m tired.” She breathes and it’s not a lie. She is tired. Tired of being a coward, tired of pretending like she will ever say when she needs to and really she should just get over herself at this point. But it’s more frightening, the idea of never saying the words at all then what could happen if she does say them. “You can go back to bed after seeing him for a moment, I promise.” Her eyes flutter shut at his last two words and she nods. “Okay. I need to shower.”

As she climbs out of bed, she wobbles and she can feel his eyes on her. “Do you need help?” She tries to smile at him, but she knows that it doesn’t work with the way the worry grows on his face. “I think I’m too old for my godfather to help me shower.” Something crosses his face as if he’s only now remembering she isn’t a little girl anymore, she’s eighteen, no longer the nine-year-old he got stuck with. “I guess so.” He gives her a smile. “I’ll be in the living room, I’ll do your hair for you.” She wants to protest, but he closes the door before she can and she knows that it’s on purpose.

Charles loved doing her hair and when she had turned twelve for a while it had been the only time she would talk to him about anything, even what she ate for dinner the previous night. As she washes her hair, she tries to think of the last time he had done it. Even just giving it a small brush before they left for dinner somewhere or him braiding it or him trying to turn her hair into some sort of flower before going back to just making it look like a rose. When was the last time he had done that? When was the last time she let him do that for her?

It had been before the season started, just before he left for the first race. She remembers now because his hands were anxious to do something. Worried that it’d be a repeat of 2022 where it would start off good and then end in disappointment. She winces as she thinks of how long it’s been and the reminder of what 2023 has been like for him.

Drying off and slipping into an old shirt of Charles from karting and a pair of Lorenzo’s shorts, she nearly goes back to bed. It’s tempting, the blankets comfy and her sheets soft, but she walks past it and out of her bedroom.

Charles is already sitting on the couch, legs spread with a pillow on the ground between them. A host of hair things sit beside him on the couch cushions. The detangler she’s used all her life that Pascale always gives her, the special made f1 car clips from Max, pearl clips from her grandma and grandpa, the bands from her aunt, the different brushes Sebastian bought her that first year Charles was at Ferrari that only get used when Charles and her are going to be doing this for a while.

Seeing them makes her pause. “I thought Pierre was going to be here soon.” He smiles at her, fond and happy, but still worried and concerned. “Within the hour. But he has a key, he’ll let himself in.” She nods, slowly moving closer until she finally sinks onto the floor, sitting on the pillow. Instantly, Charles’ hands are in her hair, tutting at the barely damp locks. “I will have to take you to grandmère soon. It’s been too long.” “I went not that long ago.” “You went just after the season started. We are in August now.” She makes a humming sound, eyes focusing on the tv that’s turned off.

It’s soothing the feeling of her godfather’s fingers in her hair, running through it, quietly hissing each time he comes across a knot, no matter how small. The quiet apologies that spill from his lips each time he tugs what he deems to harsh, when it is barely a tug at all.

“Y’know.” He begins. “When you were born you had no hair. It was amusing to all of us because your father had been promising grandmère that she’d have a grandbaby’s hair to play with. And my father,” Charles takes a breath and she leans into his right leg a little. “He had told him the whole time not to promise that. Jules was beside himself when you didn’t get any hair until you were six months.” “I was a bald baby.” Charles laughs. “The baldest baby.”

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs after a few moments. “For what?” She can see from the corner of her eye him picking up a brush. “For how your season is going. Ferrari is not doing well.” “Ferrari is managing. There is lots of changes and this is not the car that Fred wanted for us, but it is the one we have.” “You think 2024 will be better?” “I don’t know what to think other than I can not think about that. I don’t want more disappointment or broken promises.” “You deserve a good car, the best car.” “Perhaps I’ll get it someday.”

As he starts to brush her hair, her eyes wander, looking at all the pictures she can see and has seen countless times before. There’s many, most of family, some of friends, and some of Charles’ time with Ferrari, in racing. As her eyes wander further, they stop on the small cross hanging on by the window. It makes her breathing stutter and she rips her eyes away from it, forcing them to look back at the blank tv.

But seeing just for a few seconds was enough.

“Charles.” He makes a humming noise, his movements not stilling. “If I had to tell you something,” she swallows, thinking of her backpack by the front door that’s got two spare sets of clothes, her wallet, all her identification, and more importantly a spare phone. “Something that would change things, how would you react?” “That is very vague.” He tells her, fingers starting to twist her hair. “It would depend on how it changes things.” “It would change how you saw me.” That makes him pause and she catches his eyes, so expressive in the tv reflection. “Nothing could change how I feel about you. You are my goddaughter, I love you. I’ve raised you since you were nine. Nothing could ever change the love I have for you.” Tears that had started to build in her eyes when he first started to talk, fall. “I’m,” she takes a shaky breath. “I’m bisexual.”

Silence fills the room and she can’t breathe, can’t take a breath, can’t break the silence, as she waits for him to say something, anything. She doesn’t even realize, but she’s started to move a little away from him, ready to bolt, ready to slip on her shoes by the door, grab her backpack and make a run for it. Because she’s ready. She’s ready for him to tell her to leave, to get out of his house. She’s ready for him to drag her to church, to make her pray like she hasn’t already for wanting not just men, but also women. She’s ready.

She is so unbelievably unready for what he actually says.

“Are you still who I raised you to be?” “Yes.” She nods, not even having to think. Because she is, she promises that she is. She is still the girl that Charles taught to be kind, to be nice, to make sure she is always heard. She is still the little girl that Charles became a godfather to. She’s still the girl that Charles became a father to as well. “I am.” She sobs. “Oh, mon bébé.” He sighs and he’s turning her around before pulling her up into his lap, making her curl up against him as she sobs into his shirt.

“I love you so much. You being bisexual doesn’t change a thing. And I’m sorry if I ever made you think that it would.” “Papa.” She cries and his lips are pressing to her forehead as he somehow manages to rock her. “Thank you for trusting me with this, with you.” He tells her when her sobs have died down and she’s able to look at him with not blurry vision. “I’m sorry I took so long.” “No.” He shakes his head, wiping her tears. “You took as much time as you needed.”

[x-liv25-jamieswife]

hawthorne brothers after a (verbal) fight with their so head canons

my moot @never-enough-novels requested this a while ago (at this point she might not even remember asking for this), so here it is. hope you like them <3.

jameson:

i mentioned this in my averyjameson fight hcs post, but, whenever they fight, jameson gets scared that avery will realize she deserves better and leave him. bc of this, when they're done fighting, he always cuddles up next to her for comfort. avery just sits there with him telling him that he's stuck with her.

jameson tends to blame himself for most of his fights with avery bc he thinks he's the problem (anti-hero) which makes him hate himself so, after they fight, they always sit down and watch friends or any other tv show to distract him (he's never explicitly said that it makes him hate himself but avery can see it. she started the 'tradition').

he hates fighting so he usually starts planning their next date after one. he's next to her lying in bed watching their tv show typing ideas on his phone. he sometimes asks avery for some input. he'll be there like 'hey, heiress, should our next date be in italy or spain', and avery just tells him that he doesn't have to do so much and they can just have a candlelit rooftop date. jameson then tells her she deserves the world and that he'll do anything for her. avery ends up shedding a few (happy) tears discreetly.

he becomes a touch starved mess. he's either holding avery's hand, begging for hugs and cuddles, or pulling avery into his arms so that he can stroke her hair and kiss her face.

fights tend to make him tired so he usually falls asleep next to avery while they watch their show. avery sees this, closes the tv, pulls him into her arms, and falls asleep too.

grayson:

like jameson, he'll start blaming himself for his fights with his so, but, instead of finding healthy ways to distract himself, he overworks himself the next day to forget about it (i say next day bc he spends the day of the fight (after it of course) with his so)

fights give him anxiety so, to losen up, he takes a bubble bath (and sometimes his so joins him)

he finds this weird, but he always feels the need to change clothes after a fight bc when he looks in the mirror and sees the suit that he wore during the fight, he starts thinking about it and it makes him feel bad. his so usually has another suit out ready for him to put on.

at night, when his so is sleeping, he goes out for a swim to clear his mind. sometimes, one of his brothers (or avery) finds him and tells to get back to bed bc its late. sometimes he listens and sometimes he doesn't. when he doesn't they just sit there with him/keep an eye on him from further away if he wants to be alone. (this might seem ooc of the brothers/avery but, in my head, in the books, whenever grayson is out for a swim at night, its usually around 10 pm and here its like 3am which is why avery/the brothers intervene)

he has to go to the bathroom and fix his hair bc he tends to run his hands through his hair when he's fighting with his so and it always messes it up, enough to annoy him.

xander: (i honestly see him and max as the type of couple who don't fight)

fights take a lot out of him bc he rarely has them which makes him hungry. he usually goes downstairs to have a scone and ends up bringing one up for max or he gets on of the maids to bring some food up for them.

he goes out the next day and buys items to make max a care package. he buys little bows and glitter to decorate (a rich boy's care package includes things like : 10 new books (or more), 100 bags of her favorite candy that she'll never have the time to finish (he only puts on in the care package and the rest he gets shipped to her), a new necklace with a customized pendant that reminds him of her, and more all wrapped and placed in a designer handbag)

in bed, later that night, he secretly wonders if he's good enough of a boyfriend for max. he doesn't dwell on this for too long bc he's scared of his own emotions, but he does take some time to think about it.

if he does dwell on it (what i mentioned in my last hc), he gets up and goes to his lab. he usually ends up building smth that he knows max wants to please her and to prove to himself that he's good enough (also building distracts him. its a 2 in 1). also, idk how to explain this so here's an example: max and him fought him bc he didn't give max enough kisses in her opinion so he builds a machine that slaps him every hour and yells 'kisses' (they would never fight about this, but this was easy to come up with a gadget for it).

sometimes, when he dwells on it (what i mentioned 2 hcs ago), he ends up taking a walk bc fresh air always clears his mind.

nash:

his first insitnct, after a fight, is to ask libby if she's ok. his feelings don't matter to him if she's not ok. if she's ok, he'll kiss her and think about what he's feeling (if he isn't happy), but if she's sad, he'll pick her up, sit her on his lap, and whisper sweet nothing into her ear.

libby doesn't need to explicitly say this, but nash knows she has abandonment issues and thinks that their fights will someday lead to him leaving her, so sits he goes out and buys her a gift and a card in which he writes that he'll never leave her and that he can't wait to grow old with her.

he's obsessed with her playing with his hair and it always cheers him up. their fights will sometimes sour his mood so he lays his head down on her lap which she knows means he wants her to play with his hair. he'll close his eyes and either relax or fall asleep. libby finds him adorable.

bc fights sour his mood, he usually brings libby out for some horseback riding. he also gets some food ready so that, during their ride, they can sit down somewhere and have a picnic. usually they take these rides close to sunset so that, when they settle down to eat, the sun is setting.

if the fight upset him or made him anxious and he doesn't want to talk about his feelings to libby, he either heads to the bar at night (not to drink but to bartend) or he gets a massage therapist to show up at the house and give him a massage. this usually ends up clearing his mind.

[exo-raskreia]

Thoughts on 261 & More Utahime Potential Ideas

WARNING: MAX COPIUM + MANGA SPOILERS

Ok, I know everyone's been losing it lately. I tried to keep calm when the 261 leaks dropped. I'm very disappointed & shocked as well (Gojo... ｡ﾟ( ﾟஇ‸இﾟ+)ﾟ｡ ).

However... The latest developments have also caused me to ascend to a higher state in Delulu Land & this is my hardest cope yet.

First off, it seems to be implied that Gojo chose to become a monster by killing the higher-ups, thinking that he was finally going as far as (stooping as low as) Geto did for his ideals, but didn't want his students to see. And yet, they wanted to be there with him, not wanting him to carry the burden of becoming a monster alone—they would too by going through with the Horrible Plan™. So, miss me with that "Gojo wanted to die & reunite with his best friend" nonsense. There is too much at stake here & Gojo gave his all for his students and allies. Yuuta is currently risking his life too, for his friends & to carry Gojo's burden (let's go a little easier on him, guys, & Maki too, since she was against this plan; mainly for Yuuta, but still. Hakari looked disturbed too...).

This whole thing's a mess, though. What is Gege doing? Why hype up Gojo only to reveal such a horrible plan? Is he playing with us 'cause he's a sadistic freak or could it be there's something more to it? That he's setting up for something else? I've mentioned this before, but could it be that Gojo is truly meant to return at a crucial moment? When all hope seems lost? As it did feel a bit random to reappear during Todo & Yuuji's fight...

WARNING: Harry Potter spoilers!

Nitta must've stopped any further bleeding from Gojo's brain & Yuuta's body, so he, Shoko, & Amai must be keeping them healed & safe. I wonder if they're keeping an eye on the possibility Gojo could regain consciousness. I once mentioned this in a Tweet, but could Gojo be in a similar state as Harry Potter after getting hit by the Killing Curse, seemingly "dead" but actually in a state of limbo where he had met Dumbledore's soul in a place resembling King's Cross Station?

In Gojo's case, he's at an airport where he met his dead comrades (whether it's actually them or just Gojo dreaming, is uncertain; if he is dreaming, then wouldn't that mean he's still alive?). He's given a choice to metaphorically "board a plane" north or south, to return as someone new or to stay as he is. In the Buddhist-inspired JJK verse, north could mean enlightenment, so will Gojo choose that path, as many have theorized? It's uncertain if going north means choosing to live and/or ascending to a higher state (godhood), & if going south means straight up dying/reincarnating or simply returning to his misunderstood self, but I hope Gojo chooses whichever is best for his return. One that will possibly make him stronger but finally gaining a new perspective that will break the barrier between himself & others? Or maybe weaker but finally able to fight alongside the others (especially if he makes a Binding Vow)?

As such, Gojo's body was healed by both Shoko & Yuuta, & since his head had remained intact & on his body throughout the whole ordeal—which is required for RCT to work—could it be he could regain consciousness at some point with his own RCT? Yuuta only has 5 minutes to fight in Gojo's body but it's unknown what would happen once they are up. There are the risks he could die or stay stuck in Gojo's body, both of which are atrocious. However, in order to survive, could Ui Ui do a soul swap before the 5min mark, if/when Gojo revives? Or could it be both souls would automatically switch back? Either way, if the danger is out of the way, would Shoko then be able to perform the operation again to switch their brains back?

However, do the sorcerers really think they can defeat Sukuna in less than 5mins before Yuuta's back to the operating table? This is so convoluted, so I'm not sure how this would go. 😥

Anyway, I've been delulu theorizing Utahime could really have an important role in the Shinjuku Showdown arc here and here for a while now, whether it's to help in Gojo's revival or something else. Even with this latest shocking development, my ideas still stand.

Once again, neither Utahime, Ijichi, & Gakuganji were present at the strategy meetings in the flashbacks, especially the one with the Horrible Plan™. While Gojo wasn't present either for said plan, he was informed of it later & he commented he didn't intend to lose, so he didn't really care what would happen to his corpse anyway. This could mean that Utahime & the others were later informed too but at that point, it may have been too late to stop it. Maybe that's why Utahime had that somber expression in chapter 222. She knew what could happen and DID NOT agree with it, so while everyone was cheering Gojo on with happy expressions, she wasn't. I wonder if she had expressed her disagreement to Gojo right before meeting up with the others or something, as this other panel still makes me curious.

Gege didn't have to include her here but he did. She looks nervous... I once made a silly post on both GojoHime panels in chapter 222 here.

Anyway, Ijichi wasn't even present which is kind of strange while Gakuganji is typically so serious anyway.

At this point, one's inclined to believe that maybe they really were up to something else. It's too suspicious and obvious that these 4 were not a part of any of the important strategy meetings with the other sorcerers. It seems deliberate on Gege's part. Which is why these new delulu ideas come into play.

MAX COPIUM FROM THIS POINT ON.

Shoko has shocked us all with her very blasé attitude about the Horrible Plan™, that even Gojo said he was hurt annoyed by it. Either she was bottling it all up (she really did seem worried during the battle...), fully trusted Gojo in not losing (but she should've assured him?), or maybe, just maybe, there's a tiny possibility that she's hiding something. Could she have another plan?

Whether she does or not, Shoko is not part of my delulu ideas this time. I'm done. I had mostly brought her up before because of the possibilities & how much others hyped her up for it, but my delusions have always mainly revolved around Utahime. Shoko thankfully did her part already by helping heal Gojo's body & now it's Utahime's turn to take care of the rest.

Sure, Gojo could return on his own through a Binding Vow and/or his own RCT that should be working again, but as I brought up before in my first aforementioned delulu post, what if Utahime boosts his RCT to quicken and strengthen it? Nice and simple, right?

Or, what if Utahime's singing will finally come into play? As I also mentioned before, what if Gojo can hear her in the limbo & will be guided back by her voice? Like the luring of a siren? Will she call him by (first) name? Shrine maidens can summon spirits & gods, so if that applies to the JJK verse, could Utahime perform a ritual to reach & summon Gojo's soul? Especially if he chooses enlightenment? Now, I would hope this wouldn't be a temporary thing...like he returns to help one last time before departing to the heavens in a godhood state or something. Oh, Gege, u better not...

What if her singing does have healing abilities? But even more crazily, what if they're not physical, but spiritual? Could Utahime restore both Gojo's & Yuuta's souls to their bodies? Could she help Yuuta's soul remain safe once the 5mins are up?

For all this to happen, Utahime would have to be in the medical room. Where is she currently? Is she on her way? Is she still out on the battlefield possibly boosting the remaining sorcerers (well, hardly anyone left, tbh)? If she's headed to the medical room with the intent to help Gojo, I imagine it'd shock Shoko & the others. Would they know what she intends or not? Would they think it's possible? Would they try to stop her?

This is super insane & bordering on headcanon (lol, I warned you), but wouldn't it be amazing if she could have possibly managed to achieve Domain Expansion during her long absence in the manga post-Shibuya? What if it was kept a secret from all? What if as soon as Gojo laid his Six Eyes on her after his unsealing, he knew? What if that's one of the things they were cultivating, planning around, during the time-skip? Could it have offensive abilities involving her voice, like a siren? Like maybe she can make the enemy do her bidding or de-buff them? What if it's the opposite & instead has healing/buffing abilities? Any ally inside it would be in a state of max HP? Now, whether she would use it to actually heal Gojo or in combat, who knows.

I once read a wonderful one-shot fic in which Utahime achieved DE by finally accepting everything about herself, which included her suppressed feelings for Gojo. I know it's fully delulu but do we really know Utahime's full abilities? How is she a Semi-Grade 1 sorcerer if she can only buff (unless her CT is seen as good enough to warrant the rank)? Come on, Gege, stop wasting her character potential.

Remember that Sukuna still hasn't been taught about love? Based on Yorozu's version of it, his idea of love is to become vulnerable enough to connect with others & not feel lonely anymore by being defeated in battle; basically, get humbled, lol. He thought only Gojo could teach him how to overcome the barrier between himself & others deemed weak. But how would that be now, if Gojo's possibly in a state of limbo? (Is it another hint to his return?) The only other people that could possibly teach Sukuna are pure-hearted souls like Yuuji or Yuuta, the latter whom has also experienced romantic love. However, Yuuta just "discarded" his humanity by choosing to become a "monster", so Sukuna may throw that in his face. Taunt him & the other sorcerers for going against their ideals to defeat him.

What if it's not one person, but multiple that will teach Sukuna? Nakama power, y'all. What if Utahime could be one of those? She's the most pure-hearted sorcerer besides Yuuji. Her love for her students, helping Gojo whenever he asked despite her "hate" towards him, her not getting that Mei was asking for money to promote her in S2E1 (and Mei didn't even push it as if knowing Uta would never agree), her not being informed about the assassination attempt on Yuuji at the Goodwill Event by Gakuganji & her students (not even by Gojo, who suspected something), & she wasn't even present at the meeting for the brain switch plan...

It's like Utahime is being protected and/or her comrades know that she would never support all this immorality. She's a selfless person, often seen risking her life or attempting to for others in her little screentime. Not to mention that her CT is literally named after a love song. If romantic love were to be addressed at all in this fight, besides Yuuta, could Utahime play a role there? Her giving her all to help Gojo while Gojo had done his all to protect her during his fight with Sukuna? (You know, since it's still too sus that Sukuna doesn't know about her CT... Gojo entrusted Ijichi, the man he trusts the most, to keep Utahime safe for her ritual...)

I've talked about this image before but I may have discovered something interesting: the Angel Number 3612. Gojo's revival could be on the horizon... I elaborate in this post.

(Shoutout to some other amazing theories out there on Utahime's potential in helping Gojo. As a shrine maiden here & here, or even as Buddha's wife here, for example. These are seeming more & more plausible to me now, since Gege mercilessly threw a wrench at us in 261... I'm coping hard).

Having a plan unrelated to Gojo's revival is still possible. One thing I've seen thrown around is what if Utahime & team will try to stop the merger? If we go with the idea that Utahime has healing abilities for spirits, could it be that she could help restore Tengen's soul or something, like at least bring her back to her previous state before Kenjaku took over? Help her regain consciousness if she lost it? (FULL DELULU, I KNOW).

FINAL THOUGHTS:

Utahime's only a minor side character, I know that 😮‍💨. Her having such an important role & any other formidable abilities may seem like a reach, but at this point, I need something to hold onto. I don't wanna lose hope like several others have. It's hard but... As long as it's not 100% confirmed that Gojo's dead, then there is still hope... There's still so much we don't know... His choice of north & south is still up in the air, his answer to Geto's old question, his reaction to everything that happened during his time in the Prism Realm, what happened in the Prism Realm, what he did during the one month time-skip... Gege, come on...

The fact Sukuna still doesn't know about Utahime's CT is something I can hold onto, right? I will ride this wave until it crashes onshore.

[elizaleclerc]

HI MY LOVEEEE

first off all I'd like to say i love your work so much, can you do a max x reader where she's griend with carlos gf alex, max's just like freshly broke up and reader has like the biggest fattest crush on him and i trust you to end this fic in anyway you'd like

hello gorgeous (i see ur typo dw love), i'm combining this request with another one i got (the lovely anon that sent one about watching reader perform at a recital). tweaking these ideas a little and instead of it being reader im making it a fem oc AND turning it into a series!! absolutely stoked ab this idea and hope you both love it <3

the dying swan 🩰

(part one)

max verstappen x female original character

summary: as ballerina madeline moreau prepares her final dance as a bachelor's student, her good friend charles invites her to her first grand prix in monaco, where she sparks up a relationship with her crush max.

song: le cygne by saint-saëns

author's note: haven’t written a fic with a fem oc on here so im a little nervy. i adore this concept so i hope u like it too :,) this will have multiple parts (not sure how many yet), so stay tuned! xoxo 

word count: 2.3k

As Madeline Moreau prepared for her final performance towards earning her Bachelor's in performing arts, she carefully laced the ribbons of her ballet shoes around her ankles. The soft pink fabric contrasted against her pale skin, adding to the ethereal quality of the dance she was about to perform. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the studio and began the grueling practice session for "The Dying Swan". This solo dance was known to be one of the most challenging variations, but Madeline had purposefully chosen it as her final piece. Ballet had been her life since she was a young child, and completing a Bachelor's degree in this intense passion meant everything to her. As she gracefully moved across the studio floor, every stretch and turn was executed with precision and emotion, conveying the story of a swan's final moments beautifully through movement and music.

Her heart's deepest desires yearned for her to dance under the sparkling lights of the Paris Opera Ballet. Growing up in the enchanting country of France, she would often sit in front of her television, mesmerized by the grace and agility of the ballerinas on stage. She imagined herself twirling and leaping alongside them, a part of the grandeur and beauty that captivated her every time.

Already she had scouts eyeing her for various ballet companies through France, companies that would bring her massive attention and fame in the dancing world. She could already imagine the opportunities waiting for her in her home country, the chance to dance on grand stages and gain worldwide recognition. As she began her first practice that morning, thoughts of fame and success swirled through her mind like ribbons caught in a gentle breeze. Each stretch and exercise was calculated, each muscle carefully worked as she prepared for the challenging routine ahead. Her ankles, strong and supple, were crucial to executing the entire dance en pointe, with grace and precision that would captivate audiences. This was her passion, her art, and she was determined to master every aspect of it.

Madeline's body moved gracefully to the familiar notes of her favorite dance theme. As she moved across the studio floor, she couldn't help but feel a bittersweet ache in her heart. This was her final performance as a student ballerina, and just as the swan dies in the dance, she too would soon be bidding farewell to her youth as a performer. But with each precise movement of her arms and each delicate arch of her feet, she knew that something new and beautiful would be born from this ending - a career as a professional dancer. And as she gracefully folded her arms into her torso, it felt as though she was shedding an old skin and emerging anew, like a majestic swan taking flight once again.

With each graceful, extended step, Madeline could feel her ankles straining and trembling beneath her. The pain was excruciating, but she refused to let it show as she balanced delicately on her toes, emulating the movements of a dying swan. Her muscles burned with exhaustion, but she pushed through, determined to make every motion appear effortless and fluid.

Despite the countless blisters that formed on her feet, Madeline never uttered a complaint. She understood that to achieve true beauty and grace in her performance, she had to push her body to its physical limits. It was a constant battle between mind and body, but for Madeline, the end result was always worth the pain.

She glided through the four-minute variation with determination, her movements precise and fluid. Her instructor stood in the corner, arms crossed and a stern expression on their face. With each mistake, they scolded Madeline, pointing out every tiny detail that was not up to par. And with each correction, Madeline cursed herself for not being perfect.

As a ballerina, she had learned to be a perfectionist under the constant pressure of her instructors. But unlike others, Madeline placed all the weight of expectation on her own shoulders. She believed that this self-imposed scrutiny and criticism would propel her straight to the Paris Opera Ballet company. As she finished her routine, sweat glistening on her brow, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be good enough for her own standards.

After what felt like an eternity, she hung her head in defeat as the day came to a close. Learning the variation had not been the biggest challenge - it had come naturally to her - but the hours of repetition and inevitable mistakes had left her confidence bruised and battered. As she wearily made her way out of the studio and back to her small apartment, she couldn't help but wince at the painful blisters forming on her toes, a tell-tale sign of her dedication and determination to perfecting her craft.

She took her hair down out of her bun and drew herself a warm bath to ease the aching of her muscles. Just as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes in relaxation, she felt the vibration of her phone on the side of the tub.

She dried off her hands and answered the phone call, “Salut, Charles.” Her good friend Charles Leclerc spoke on the other side of the phone, asking her how she’s been and what progress she’d made on her dance. She updated him on her failures of the day, and as he had plenty of times before, he told her she was being entirely too hard on herself.

“I wanted to extend an invite to you.” His voice echoed through the phone’s speaker.

“Yes?” She urged him on.

“How would you feel about finally coming to see us race in Monaco?” He was met with silence.

“I dunno Char,” Madeline sighed, considering the opportunity. The Monaco Grand Prix was a few weeks away, and she knew how busy she would be working on her variation, and how much more progress she had to make in perfecting it.

“Cmon, it would be loads of fun.” He persisted, but yet she hesitated still. The Formula One crowd was widly different than the dance crowd she was used to. Her and Charles crossed paths several times through their youth, over time becoming closer and closer. Charles knew that Madeline was a fairly timid girl, and therefore might feel uncomfortable around the loud cars and adrenaline filled atmosphere. Madeline’s spirit was much more peaceful and slow, her entire aura radiating the serenity and calmness of ballet.

“I’ll think about it.” She finally answered, but that didn’t satisfy him.

“Every time you say that you always end up saying no.” He argued, further putting Madeline in a difficult position. “You know Max will be there.” He joked, which made her roll her eyes over the phone.

“Very funny.” Her sarcastic remark caused Charles to chuckle. He always liked to say that Madeline had a major crush on Max, but she had never even met him. Her own nerves prohibited her from reaching out. The fact that Max would be racing in Monaco and Madeline could potentially meet him almost made her more resistant to go. “Who would I be staying with?”

“During the race you could stay up in the balcony with my family and friends. Alex will be there as well. You’d be in good company, Madeline.” Charles was making a good argument. Madeline adored Charles’s girlfriend, Alexandra, as she was a lover of the arts and always made sure to adorn Madeline in compliments over her dancing skills.

“Fine, I’ll be there.” Madeline gave in, finally feeling excited with the possibility of it all. She could hear Charles’s cheers in the background.

As they ended the phone call, she took a deep breath. Charles' words lingered in her mind, causing her to question her actions. He was right, of course, to tease her about seeing Max. After all, he had been her long-time crush since his impressive debut on the Formula One track. Despite the passing years and numerous offers from Charles to introduce them, Madeline had always managed to avoid meeting Max. But as her fame as a ballerina grew in France, fans began to speculate about her connection with the much more renowned Charles Leclerc.

The media had never bothered to inquire about her, yet Madeline's rise in popularity could be attributed to the relentless efforts of Charles and Alex, who took every opportunity to mention her name. As she walked through public spaces, Madeline's cheeks would flush with a mixture of shyness and discomfort, still unaccustomed to the attention that came with being associated with a famous Formula One driver. But deep down she knew that fame and recognition within the ballet world were her ultimate goals. She yearned to see her name among the ranks of the greats, and she understood that this would require adjusting to constant public scrutiny and attention.

The water in Madeline's bath slowly grew colder, but she hardly noticed as she scrolled through Instagram. With steady hands, she searched for Max's name in her following list. His profile appeared on her screen, his handsome face and perfectly curated photos drawing her in. She spent time studying each picture, taking in the details of his life that she had been missing out on. Where there used to be images of him and his girlfriend, now there were only solo shots of him posing with trophies and accolades, a clear indication to his millions of followers that they had split up. A small smile tugged at Madeline's lips, the realization that he was single igniting a spark of hope within her. But deep down, she knew that even with this new opportunity, she may not have the courage to approach him. The thought left her feeling both exhilarated and defeated all at once.

~

A dull, persistent ache nagged at Madeline's muscles as she trudged into the dance studio the next day. But her mind was not occupied with thoughts of rest or recovery; instead, it was consumed by thoughts of Max. She hated herself for feeling this way. For so long, her focus had been solely on dance, unable to entertain any distractions or desires for a romantic relationship.

But now, as she danced to prophetic love ballads and hopeless romantic variations, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to experience the type of love she often portrayed in her performances. With every step and turn, she poured all her energy into keeping her mind focused on the theme of her current variation: the dying swan. Her arms moved gracefully, mimicking the delicate movements of the bird's wings, while her fingers flicked with precision and emotion. As much as she tried to push him out of her mind, Max's image lingered in the corners of her thoughts, tainting even her most effortless movements with a bittersweet longing.

Under the watchful eye of her instructor, Madeline pushed herself to her limits, determined to improve. She gritted her teeth and forced herself through each step of the variation, her feet aching and screaming in protest. But she refused to give up or show any sign of weakness. After completing another round, she could see the concern in her instructor's eyes. "Madeline, take a moment to catch your breath. You're only on your second day, I don't want you to overdo it and injure yourself." Madeline tried to regulate her breathing and calm her racing heart. Sweat dripped down her face, mingling with the tears of pain and determination. But she knew that she had to keep going, pushing herself harder than ever before in pursuit of perfection.

She huffed and finally sat down on the chilled floor. “I don’t care, I need to be perfect or nothing.”

“That attitude will not make you ‘perfect’, you fool,” the instructor scolded, “there is no such thing as perfect. Your body needs rest. An audience can see clear as day the difference between a healthy and strong dancer and one that is barely hanging on to each movement.”

Madeline's body trembled with exhaustion as she hung her head low, trying to hide her overwhelming disappointment. The instructor's angry voice still echoed in the room, adding to the throb of pain in her feet and the twitches in her muscles. She tried to soak in their words, but her mind was foggy from the grueling practices she endured every day. Yet, she convinced herself that these struggles were just part of the ballet world. After all, the ballerinas in the most prestigious companies had gone through much worse. Madeline believed that she simply wasn't strong enough yet.

In the solitude of the studio, she pushed her body through the variation one final time. As her muscles trembled and her legs threatened to give out with every move, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the large mirror in front of her. She watched as her shaking limbs seemed to amplify the dying and fatal motions of the swan, transforming the dance into a display of intense urgency and desperation.

Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, proof of her physical exertion. But it was the reflection in the glass that truly captured her attention. Despite the beautiful lines of her facial features, there was a hint of anguish and exhaustion in her expression. Like the dying swan she portrayed, her spirit and morale were crumbling under the weight of this performance.

part two coming soon where madeline and max actually meet! this part was rlly just a lottt of exposition :) x

[lillylunala]

HAT HAT HAT HAT HAT HE GOT HIS FUCKING HAT BACK LETS FUCKING GO

[dr3comebackera]

2017 Abu Dhabi Press Conference

Q: Max, you had one full season with Daniel. What influence has Daniel had on you personally? A: (pause) Really bad. No he’s, he’s a great guy. I, of course, on track, we always try to beat each other. But off track, you know, we can have a great laugh. Um, I think we really respect each other. And to be honest, I’ve never really experienced, uh, something like that in racing, to have such a good teammate, you know, to really have fun with. Um, yeah, so I hope we can be teammates for a long time.

[itsafternoonpast5]

thinking about their friendship so hard

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

For a long time, Max was the only person who could speak fluent Billy Hargrove. She first learned out of necessity. Out of fear that if she didn’t interpret signals correctly, she’d be swept up in a storm of rage.

At some point, it became less about avoiding tantrums and more about… giving her brother space.

They haven’t lived under the same roof for the better part of a year now. Things are different. Things are better, even, but when she sees him stalking around the trailer with his shoulders tensed and eyebrows drawn together, she decides that maybe things aren’t all that different.

He’s not punching holes in walls or picking unnecessary fights, but his fuse still looks particularly short.

She stays sat between Lucas and Dustin on the sofa, neither of whom seem to have noticed her brother’s decline in mood, and continues munching on popcorn. Hopes that the volume of the tv and the sounds of crunching don’t awaken a bitter rage in him.

Eddie doesn’t seem to share her feelings when he bounds inside, letting the door clap on the frame behind him as he sweeps his hair back into a ponytail. Max winces at the noise and shrinks in her seat.

Readies herself for the familiar, inevitable sound of arguing from the kitchen.

Instead, she hears Eddie chuckle.

“Hey, sourpuss,” he says.

Despite the guarded stance that Billy takes, Eddie moves closer. Either because he’s too stupid to notice or simply doesn’t care. Maybe both.

Every warning signal and siren is going off in Max’s brain as Eddie reaches out. She watches Billy’s fists clench at his sides and how his jaw tightens as slender arms wrap around his shoulders.

She comes to terms with the fact that she’s probably about to watch Eddie die until Billy just… sags into the hug.

“Tough guy just needs some lovin’, huh?” Eddie teases.

He cradles the blond close, smiling when Billy nuzzles into the crook of his neck. Billy grumbles something incoherent. Sets his hands on Eddie’s waist and leans harder into him when the brunet cards a hand into his hair.

The display has Max reeling in her seat.

Maybe she’s lost her touch. Maybe she doesn’t speak Billy as well as she thought she did. The thought kind of bums her out, surprisingly.

Eddie traces his fingers lightly down Billy’s spine and provokes a shiver. Has him melting in a matter of seconds like he’s as good as putty in Eddie’s hands.

When Billy shifts against him and lays his head down on his shoulder, Max catches a glimpse of his expression. Sees how tired he suddenly looks.

It occurs to her then that maybe he never looked angry in the first place, just… tense.

It also occurs to her that she hasn’t lost understanding of her brother — she still knows him perfectly well. At least, the image of him in her head that she has from a year ago.

He’s speaking an entirely new language now.

A year ago, balled fists meant something was bound to be broken, whether it be a nose or a skateboard. Now it doesn’t seem to mean that at all.

Eddie seems convinced that he was never in any danger, judging by the way that he’s plastering kisses into messy curls.

That speaks for itself.

“Want me to make you a sandwich or something, moody?” Eddie coos. “I bet it would make you feel better.”

“‘M not moody,” Billy mumbles.

Eddie chuckles.

“Do you want the usual stuff on your sandwich?”

There’s a pause. Billy sighs, accepting defeat.

“Yeah…”

It’s like, in a matter of moments, Eddie has completely dismantled him. Like some kind of snake charmer or something. Alligator whisperer or what have you.

No swearing or arguing or popped neck veins in sight.

Max can’t hear whatever it is that Eddie whispers to him next, but it has the blond cracking a smile as he leans back. They share a kiss. Then another, and Billy is giggling when Eddie doesn’t let up after a few more pecs.

By the time they part, Billy’s face is flushed pink and he’s grinning like an idiot.

Eddie admires him for a moment before he marches over to the refrigerator, leaving him standing next to the counter. Softened like butter on a warm countertop.

Though Eddie Munson was the last guy Max expected to take on the title of Billy’s handler, she’s happy that he did.

On second thought, she’s glad that she isn’t the only one who speaks her brother’s language anymore.

She’s glad someone finally understands him.

[osarquivosmagnus]

I'm still not over how forever called quackity his family more than once, and made sure elquackity knew there were people in the island that care and want to look for him

[givehimthemedicine]

never forget El isn't just touchy feely as a random personality trait, she's spent most of her developmentally critical years horribly starved of touch and warmth and love :)

and every moment of physical comfort she receives is precious to her as an antidote to some specific moment in her past when she suffered the lack of it :) and you can also see the shadow of her traumas in the ways she thinks to give physical comfort :)

and also don't forget that her trauma didn't end with the lab :) when we first meet her her traumas are drawn from lab days but by later seasons it's clear some of the traumas guiding her behavior are just... the show :) such as the crushing pressure of everyone counting on her to find Will :)

and if I spend more than 2 seconds thinking about what any simple little moment of closeness/physical affection/comfort must mean to El I will start sobbing and never stop :)

[eurydia]

Vicar Max + blue irises: faith and hope flower series (1/-)

ref: