#charles has a Complicated Relationship with his

[maddie0101]

just friends

summary: you and dean are out at a bar grabbing drinks with friends like it’s any other night but dean’s close, almost too close and you’re not doing a damn thing about it.

warnings/ tags: smut (mdni), college!au, friends w benefits, no love confessions (sadly), fingering, some dirty talk, public smut, hidden relationship and feelings, sexual tension.

word count: 1.4k (pretty small for me, yes ik..but I’m a tad rusty)

note: I’m back bitches! :) enjoy!

It’s not supposed to be complicated.

That’s what you tell yourself every time you sneak out of Dean's bed before sunrise. Every time you redress in silence and slip past your sleeping friends with flushed skin and sore thighs—pretending that nothing happened.

Friends with benefits. That’s the deal.

No dates. No hand-holding. No stolen glances that mean too much. And it’s been working—for the most part.

Except nights like this.

You’re at your favorite spot downtown, some hole-in-the-wall bar with loud music and warm string lights tangled above the tables. You’re squished into a booth with the usual group, consisting of Jo, Benny, Charlie, and Cas. Everyone's talking over each other with drinks in hand, plates of fries already half-gone.

You’re wearing a dress. Short, soft, and comfortable. A little risky for October, but worth it. You saw Dean’s eyes drop to your legs the second you walked in. He hasn’t said a word about it, but you felt the shift in the air.

Now, you’re pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with him in the booth, thighs touching, your drink sweating in your palm as you try to pretend you’re listening to Charlie’s story about her lab partner. You’re nodding, even laughing but your body is stiff.

Not because you're stressed or anything—but because Dean’s hand is on your thigh.

It started off innocent, honestly. Just resting there, his fingers lightly curled, the way a friend might touch a friend.

But you both know better.

He’s been inching higher for the past ten minutes, casual as anything, like this isn’t dangerous.

No one can see, not from the angle or with the table pressed against your ribs and the flickering shadows hiding his movements. But you can feel him and he knows exactly what he’s doing.

His hand shifts slightly, fingers brushing up your thigh, warm and steady and your breath catches in your throat.

“You okay?” Jo asks, blinking at you.

You force a smile and nod quickly. “Yeah. Just a little warm in here.”

Dean doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t even react. Just keeps sipping his beer, his free hand wrapped lazily around the neck of the bottle while the other, his real focus is sliding slowly beneath the hem of your dress.

Your pulse thuds in your ears and your heartbeat speeds up.

He’s still not touching you where you want him to. He’s toying with you. Circling higher and closer but never quite where you want him. His knuckles brush the inside of your thigh and you shudder, trying to sit still. Trying to not squirm.

So you shoot him a warning glare. But when he finally meets your eyes—his are dark, amused, and possessive?

You swallow hard and shift your legs, trying to squeeze them together. Dean’s hand follows easily, caught between them now, palm pressed against the soft skin just inches from your center.

You lean in toward him, voice quiet and shaky. “Dean.” You warn.

He hums, barely audible. “Problem?”

“You need to stop.”

He grins without looking at you. “You don’t want me to stop.”

He's right...You think. But here? In front of your friends? That's a whole new level.

His touch and the fact that you're in public, surrounded by your friends, feeling Dean's hand has you soaked. There’s nothing between you but a pair of thin lace panties and whatever control you’ve got left—which is crumbling fast.

Dean shifts again, his hand sliding higher, fingers brushing just under the edge of your underwear now and your breath leaves you in a slow, shaking exhale and you grip your drink tighter, knuckles white.

You glance up to Charlie still talking, Cas asking Jo a random question, and Benny’s leaned back with a lazy grin, completely oblivious—you hope.

But then Dean’s hand slips beneath your panties, bringing you back to what is going on and you choke on your drink, causing eyes to quickly snap onto you with concern.

“Jesus, you okay?” Benny says, reaching for a napkin.

“Yeah,” you cough. “Wrong pipe.”

Dean doesn’t move. Not even when he presses two fingers right there—just enough pressure to make you see stars. Your hips twitch and you cross your legs tighter, trapping his hand in place, but it only makes it worse.

He curls his fingers ever so slightly and leans in, lips brushing your ear. “You wore this dress just for me, didn’t you?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. So he nudges your panties aside and the cold air hits your soaked heat in an instant. He groans softly, barely a sound but you hear it. “Fuck, you’re already wet.”

Your thighs shake and you stare at your glass, willing yourself to keep breathing while his fingers slide through your slick folds. He doesn’t push inside you just yet. He's teasing you. Still playing his game and you shift again, pressing your hips into his hand, silently begging.

Dean tuts softly. “Needy.”

You shoot him another glare but he only smirks before giving you what you want. His finger slips inside, slow and smooth, just one and your breath catches. He moves it slowly, curling upward, then pulls back and adds a second. You clamp your teeth around a whimper and dig your nails into the seat beneath you.

“Doing so good,” he murmurs. “Sittin’ still like that. What would they say if they knew, huh? That you’re dripping around my fingers while Cas talks about his psych exam?”

“Dean,” you gasp.

“Yeah, baby?”

Your thighs tremble and your skin feels too tight. Your eyes are glassy and you’re so close it’s painful.

Dean curls his fingers again, just the slightest motion, and your hips twitch involuntarily. You shouldn’t be like this—not here. Not in public. But your body doesn’t care. It’s reacting to him like it always does—instinctively, desperately, completely.

And he presses his palm against your clit, not rubbing, just pressing, grounding you with that solid weight.

Your vision blurs for half a second and your breath hitches in your throat. You grip the edge of the table so hard your knuckles ache.

He leans in, his mouth just barely brushing your ear. His voice is calm but dangerous. “Gonna come just like this?” he whispers. “In your little dress, right here at the table?”

You can’t answer. Can’t breathe. All you can do is hold on as Dean’s fingers fuck into you slow and deep, his palm now dragging tight circles against your clit.

He’s doing it on purpose. Drawing it out—keeping you right on the edge.

You whimper softly—barely audible, but he hears it.

“Quiet,” he says, lips still at your ear. “You make a sound and I stop.”

You nod frantically, digging your nails into your thigh and casting a quick glance to your friends still sitting around you.

Jo and Charlie are still deep in conversation. While Cas is arguing with Benny over whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie. But no one suspects a thing. Thank God—because no one sees how Dean has you right there—blushing, panting, thighs shaking while he works you from the inside out.

Your dress has ridden up just enough to let him move without resistance, his wrist shifting with each slow thrust of his fingers. You’re dripping around him, muscles fluttering, begging for release.

“Dean,” you breathe, “please—please—”

His hand slows for a second and your breath stutters. “No,” you gasp, shaking your head, eyes wide. “Don’t stop, Dean, I swear—”

He smiles against your skin. “Then come for me.”

That’s all it takes. Your legs seize around his hand, muscles clenching tight as heat rushes through you—white-hot and overwhelming. You bury your face in his shoulder to keep from crying out, your body trembling so hard the table rattles.

Dean holds you through it, fingers still moving, gentler now, coaxing you through the waves.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

It takes a full minute before you can breathe again. And before you realize your nails left crescents in the vinyl seat, that your drink is untouched--that the conversation has kept going without you, blissfully unaware. Dean finally withdraws his hand, slowly and slides your panties back into place, straightens the hem of your dress like a gentleman—like he didn’t just ruin you in the middle of a crowded bar.

You turn your face slightly, hiding your dazed, flushed expression behind the curtain of your hair and Dean licks his fingers while meeting your gaze.

You nearly whimper again at the sight and Dean slides his arm back across the booth, settling like nothing happened.

Like his fingers don’t still glisten faintly.

Like your heart isn’t trying to beat out of your chest.

And you reach for your drink with a shaky hand, trying to pretend your entire body isn’t still humming from the aftershock.

Dean glances at you once more—smug, satisfied, and already plotting what he’ll do to you when he gets you alone.

And God help you, you can’t wait.

author’s note:

hii guys! thank y’all so much for being patient with me during this time! I’ve finally managed to write this little one shot after almost a 2 month hiatus! 🫠 I’m definitely in the mood to write but now it’s about finding the time to 😅 (I barely even have time to eat lmfaoo)

I should have some more fics coming out but I can’t promise how often it will be. I am going to try to work on requests as well and hopefully get those out to you guys!

anywaaaays— I hope y’all enjoyed this one! ❤︎

taglist:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear @supernotnatural2005 @bettystonewell @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @star-yawnznn @exansation @darkrose064 @megara0224 @saturnsooya @miss-marmalade @xo-zeze @kamisobsessed @megara0224 @cupidzbunny @imsiriuslyreal @jollyhunter @kimxwinchester @julsvdamxn @tinas111 @acesdiary @sapphic-destiel @callsign-ember @ladykitana90 @h8aaz @closetedangel @lunaleah @pieandflannel @soldiersgirl (lmk if I’ve missed anyone or if you’d like to be taken off of my taglist)

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

my works

© maddie0101 do not copy or repost my works without my permission

[royaltysimblr]

Windslar Palace Part 1: King Edmund IX's Wing

Windslar Palace, situated eighteen miles away from the city of Windenburg, has stood as a symbol of royalty for nearly six centuries. Once the favored summer retreat of the Royal Family, the palace served not merely as a seasonal residence but as the heart of the monarchy for generations. Though it no longer serves its original function, Windslar Palace remains a monument to the monarchy's legacy.

In 1755, King Edmund IX commissioned the construction of a new wing at Windslar Palace to accommodate his expanding family. The newly built addition, later known as the King Edmund IX Wing, featured a series of elegant apartments on the ground floor, designed specifically for his beloved consort, Queen Odette, and their seven children. Edmund's presence in Odette's bedchambers every night was highly unusual for the time, but a testament to their close and loving relationship with one another.

Following Edmund’s death, his son and successor, King George I, continued to reside with his mother in her apartments, but later moved out after his marriage. Queen Odette remained in these rooms until 1810, when she retired permanently to her country residence, Queen’s Lodge.

After George’s marriage to Princess Josephine of Corrilea (@theroyalsofcorrilea), the new Queen Consort took up residence in the north block of the Edmund IX Wing. She redecorated her apartments with opulence and flair, most notably adorning her drawing room with elaborate chinoiserie wallpaper. A devoted and overbearing mother, Josephine transformed that same drawing room into a bedroom to remain close to her only child, the sickly and kind Princess Margaret. Margaret spent most of her short life at Windslar Palace, and Josephine remained in her apartments until she died in 1826.

In 1817, Queen Odette’s former suite was occupied by Princess Caroline Sophie, Dowager Duchess of Rochester (@simming-in-the-rain), following the accession of her son, King George II. Caroline Sophie, regarded as ambitious and calculating, viewed her move into Odette’s apartments as a symbol of her elevated status as mother to the monarch. She redecorated much of the suite with furnishings brought from her previous residence at Hertford Castle and removed paintings of Odette. That same year, her favored sister-in-law, Princess Elizabeth, was installed in adjacent rooms.

Tragedy struck when King George II died in 1818, and was succeeded by his younger brother, King Edmund XI, who would reign briefly before he died in 1821. The crown then passed to Caroline Sophie’s daughter, Queen Mary II. Mary’s relationship with her mother had always been distant, complicated by Caroline Sophie’s preference for her sons and disapproval of Mary’s 1820 marriage to Charles Statford, 10th Earl of Statford. Upon ascending the throne, Queen Mary II ordered her mother’s eviction from Windslar Palace entirely.

Mary chose not to inhabit the Edmund IX Wing. Instead, she made her home in the apartments once occupied by Queen Sophie (formerly Princess Sophie of Dresden) in the King Joseph IV Wing. The ground-floor suites of the Edmund IX Wing were converted into guest accommodations for visiting royals and foreign dignitaries, while the upper floors became the private quarters for Mary’s eight children. These rooms, sometimes used by the Royal Family, remain largely closed to the public today.

In later years, Mary’s daughter, Princess Charlotte, was in charge of the restoration of the ground-floor apartments, returning many of Queen Odette’s original furnishings. Today, these historic rooms form part of the Windslar Palace Museum, and share a glimpse into the lives of Queen Odette and her family.

[technically-human]

Wings

A commission for @i-am-as-normal-as-you-are based on this post

This is not just a Wing!AU, but also a Sentinels and Guides AU. It's a whole concept I didn't know existed and now I'm fascinated

[indigospyder]

You know, sometimes I’ll think “oh I really liked reading as a child but there weren’t any books that really molded my personality.”

And then I’ll look at a self insert character I’ve made and realize it’s literally a fucking reskin of Sydney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities.

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 33: September 2024 - Part 4

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The office was quiet, soft. A low hum of air-conditioning filled the silence between words, the kind of ambient white noise that Belle had grown to find oddly comforting. She sat cross-legged on the couch, a mug of chamomile tea cooling in her hands. Simone, always calm, always precise, watched her with an expression that never pushed—but always invited.

“I think it’s… better,” Belle said slowly. “Not fixed. Not even close. But better.”

Simone nodded. “What feels better?”

Belle thought for a moment. “Arthur’s been texting more. Charles and Lorenzo send me links to baby things they think I’ll like. Nothing huge. Just... consistent. Like they’re trying.”

“And how does that feel?”

“Confusing,” Belle said honestly. “Nice, sometimes. Other times I want to scream. But I’m not… shutting them out. Not completely.”

Simone’s gaze softened. “That’s progress.”

“Yeah.” Belle gave a wry smile. “It’s baby steps. My mother sends me articles about parenting now. Like I haven’t already read everything the internet has to offer. But she’s trying.”

“And how does it feel when he does?”

“Complicated,” Belle admitted. “It makes me happy, but it also makes me angry, like—where was this five years ago? Where was this when I needed it?”

Simone nodded once, acknowledging the contradiction without judgment. “You’re allowed to feel both. One doesn’t cancel out the other.”

“I know.” Belle paused. “But I think… I want to keep the door open. Just a little.”

“That sounds brave.”

Belle gave a dry laugh. “It sounds terrifying.”

Simone tilted her head. “Would it help if you had more control over how you let them in?”

Belle looked up. “What do you mean?”

Simone set her notebook gently aside. “What if you invited them to something low-stakes? Something where they’re part of your world, but not the center of it. Somewhere you can set the tone, and where other people are around. Like a buffer.”

Belle blinked. “Like what?”

Simone smiled lightly. “You mentioned Max’s birthday. That you’re planning to decorate the nursery that weekend?”

“Yeah…” Belle’s voice trailed off as the thought formed. “We were going to build the shelves and hang the prints. Nothing fancy. Just… make it feel real.”

“What if you invited your family to be part of that?” Simone asked gently. “Not the whole day. Not a big deal. Just… included.”

Belle was quiet for a moment. “It wouldn’t be about them.”

“Exactly,” Simone said. “It’s about you. Your space. Your child. But it could be a way to let them step into that gently. On your terms.”

“And if it’s awful, I can make Max tell them to leave,” Belle muttered.

Simone smiled. “You’re not alone anymore. That’s the difference.”

Belle stared down into her tea. The idea sat heavily—but not painfully.

Maybe it wasn’t a reconciliation. Maybe it wasn’t forgiveness.

Maybe it was just… the next step.

“Okay,” Belle said softly. “Maybe I’ll ask them.”

Simone nodded, kind and steady. “Only if you want to. You don’t owe anyone a seat in your story. But if you want to hand them a folding chair—they’ll know where to find it.”

Belle snorted. “God, that’s such a therapist metaphor.”

“And yet,” Simone said, eyes twinkling, “you got it immediately.”

Belle smiled, small and tired and real. “I did.”

***

The fan hummed softly overhead. The windows were cracked open just enough to let the night air in, and Belle was half-curled on her side, head resting on Max’s chest, her fingers absently tracing the edge of his shirt.

They were supposed to be asleep. But the baby had kicked just hard enough to startle Belle, and now sleep felt like a distant thought.

“Do you want to keep talking names?” Max asked quietly, not pushing, just offering.

Belle didn’t answer right away. Her fingers paused, then started again. “Maybe.”

Max waited.

“I’ve been thinking about middle names,” she said eventually. “And… I don’t know. I’m stuck.”

“Too many options?” he asked, brushing his hand along her spine.

She shook her head. “Just one. That I keep coming back to.”

Max was quiet, letting her shape the words however she needed to.

“My father’s name,” Belle said softly. “Hervé.”

He didn’t react. Just shifted a little so he could see her face better. “Okay.”

“There’s this… expectation,” she continued. “I haven’t said anything to anyone, but I know. My family will assume we’ll use it. Especially because we are having a boy. It’ll be this unspoken thing that I’m supposed to do.”

Max ran his thumb gently along her arm. “Do you want to?”

Belle was quiet again. “I don’t know.”

And that was the honest truth.

“I loved him,” she said, her voice rough now. “He died when I was nineteen. There’s a part of me that still misses him every day.”

Max’s eyes softened. “I know.”

“But he also…” She swallowed. “He sold Blanche.”

Belle let out a breath. “Sold her. My horse. My best friend. Just—gone. For karting tires. For Charles. And I know it was to help the family, and I know he thought he was doing the right thing. But he never even told me. He didn’t say goodbye. I came home and the stable was just… empty.”

Max didn’t try to fix it. He just leaned in a little, one arm brushing hers. Letting her feel him there.

“So now,” she said, throat tight, “I think of giving our child his name, and there’s this voice in my head saying, you should. That it’s the right thing. That I’ll be ungrateful if I don’t. That everyone will judge me.”

Max reached for her hand and wrapped it gently in his.

“But then,” Belle whispered, “there’s this other part of me that still feels like that girl. Standing in that empty stable. Wondering why I wasn’t enough to keep.”

Silence bloomed between them. Not heavy. Not cold. Just true.

After a moment, Max spoke, voice low but certain. “You don’t owe anyone that name.”

“I know,” she said. “But part of me still wants to give it to the baby. Because he was my dad. Because I did love him. Because it wasn’t all bad.”

She turned to look at Max. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he said immediately. “It’s not stupid. It’s human. He mattered to you. It’s okay that it’s complicated.”

Belle’s eyes glistened. “What if people think I’m being selfish for not using it?”

Max shifted closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Then let them think it. This isn’t about them. It’s about what feels right to you. To us.”

She leaned into him slightly, comforted by the certainty in his voice.

“And Belle,” he added, voice gentler now, “you know Charles or Arthur or maybe even Lorenzo will use the name. One of them will. Hervé will live on, one way or another.”

Belle turned slightly toward him.

“And maybe they should,” Max continued. “Because he had a different meaning to them. Because Hervé was their father too. And that’s their grief to carry, their memory to honor.”

Belle gave a small, tearful laugh. “Arthur will probably make it the kid’s first name and then forget to tell anyone.”

Max smiled. “Exactly. So you don’t have to carry that weight for them. Not this time.”

She nodded, silent again. But this time, it felt less like drowning in indecision and more like finding breath.

He squeezed her hand. “This is our child. And this name? This is yours to choose. Not for tradition. Not for guilt. For love.”

Belle blinked back tears she hadn’t meant to let fall.

Max smiled softly. “If you want to use Hervé, we can. But it doesn’t have to be this time. Or ever. Our baby won’t love you less. He won’t even know unless you choose to tell him.”

Belle exhaled shakily and rested her head on his shoulder.

“Can we just… sit on it for a while?”

“For as long as you want,” Max said. “We’ve got time.”

Belle stayed curled against him, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. One of his hands had settled over the curve of her belly again, warm and grounding. She didn’t want to break the moment—but she also didn’t want to hold it in anymore.

“There’s something else,” she said quietly.

Max shifted just enough to show he was listening.

“I saw Simone yesterday.”

“Yeah?” he murmured. “How was it?”

“Good,” Belle said. Then, after a pause: “Hard. But good.”

Max waited.

“She brought something up. Something I haven’t stopped thinking about since.”

Max hummed softly, encouragement in sound form.

“She suggested… maybe I invite my family to help with the nursery. On your birthday.”

Max blinked. “Oh.”

“I know that’s not what we planned,” Belle rushed to say. “And it’s totally okay if you don’t want to. Or if it feels like too much. I just—Simone said it might be easier if I let them come when it’s not just about me. When it’s already a full day. Less pressure. Less expectation. More people around.”

She lifted her head slightly to look at him. “Would that be okay?”

Max was quiet for a moment. Not because he was upset—Belle knew his silences now. This one was full of thought, not hesitation.

“I don’t care what my birthday looks like,” he said softly. “As long as you’re okay. If this helps you… if this makes it easier to let them in, even just a little—I’m all for it.”

Belle’s brows knit, uncertain. “Are you sure?”

Max reached up and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m sure.”

She searched his face for any sign of discomfort. There was none.

“I just…” She took a breath. “I don’t want it to become a whole thing. Like—‘we’re all fine now,’ or ‘look how close we are again.’ I’m not there. I’m not even close.”

“You don’t have to be,” Max said. “It doesn’t have to be anything more than a few hours of paint and furniture and wallpaper. If anyone tries to turn it into a redemption arc, I’ll lock them in the garage with Christian.”

Belle laughed wetly, wiping her eyes.

“Let them come,” Max said, gently. “Let them hold a paintbrush and hang some shelves and exist in a space that you created. That we’re building for our son.”

She exhaled slowly, like letting something heavy slide from her shoulders.

“And if at any point it’s too much,” Max added, “just say the word. I’ll fake a plumbing emergency.”

Belle snorted. “A plumbing emergency in a newly built Monaco penthouse?”

He grinned. “I’m very committed to the bit.”

She rested her forehead against his. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me have it both ways,” she said softly. “For letting me try.”

Max’s voice dropped, rough with affection. “I always will.”

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Lando Norris

Max: you’re coming to my birthday next weekend don’t make a face we’re decorating the nursery

Lando: oh thank god i thought you were about to make me wear a button-down and socialize

Max: no button-down just emotional labor and assembling IKEA furniture

Lando: so… worse

Max: also the Leclerc brothers will be there all of them

Lando: MAX NO no no no no no i’m not sitting through Arthur quoting Pinterest at us and Charles making emotionally repressed noises

Max: that’s why i’m texting you i’m not sitting through that alone you’re my support gremlin

Lando: i hate it here

Max: bring a drill and snacks or just stand near me and make fun of Arthur under your breath either works

Lando: i had plans that day

Max: do you even know what day it is

Lando: not the point

***

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Emilie Abadie

Lando: MAX IS MAKING ME GO TO HIS BIRTHDAY NURSERY BUILDING CHAOS THING

Emilie: yes. we are going.

Lando: WHAT WE??

Emilie: yes. You’re not getting out of it. I already RSVP’d for us when Belle mentioned it

Lando: this feels like betrayal

Emilie: it’s community support and if i have to be in the same room as Charles, i’m not doing it alone

Lando: but i was going to play FIFA and ignore my feelings

Emilie: congratulations. now you’ll be building a changing table and confronting emotional growth instead

Lando: i’m calling HR

Emilie: HR said bring cupcakes

***

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Max Verstappen

Lando: we’re coming emilie sold me out

Max: excellent i’ll save you a paint roller

Lando: i hope the baby grows up to be a McLaren fan out of sheer spite

***

Group Chat: WHAT IS HAPPENING

(Members: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo)

Lando: i need backup this is an emergency

Oscar: hello to you too

Daniel: what did you do now

Lando: MAX invited me to his birthday which is also apparently a nursery decorating session AND THE LECLERCS WILL BE THERE plural. brothers. full trio. mother. no escape

Oscar: so what you’re saying is you’re being forced to be emotionally supportive and also use a screwdriver

Lando: YES emilie said we’re going i didn’t even have a say i was mid toast when she RSVP’d for both of us

Daniel: mate that sounds like a you problem i’m in australia 8,000 miles away UNREACHABLE

Lando: that’s cowardice

Daniel: that’s geography 😌

Lando: oscar please don’t leave me alone with a roll of painter’s tape and charles leclerc talking about childhood trauma

Oscar: unfortunately i have a prior engagement

Lando: you don’t even know what day it is

Oscar: still. engagement confirmed. cannot cancel.

Daniel: i hope they make you do the stenciling

Oscar: i hope you get stuck between Arthur and Jos in a very small room

Lando: i hate both of you i want that on record

Daniel: duly noted, now post pictures of you holding a baby onesie and pretending to care

Oscar: bonus points if you cry during the wallpaper reveal

Lando: this is abuse

Daniel: this is family ❤️

***

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Lily Zneimer

Lando: Lily. Light of Oscar’s life. i need your help.

Lily: what did he do now

Lando: MAX invited us to his birthday slash nursery decorating emotional ambush oscar said he had “a prior engagement” please tell me that’s fake. PLEASE.

Lily: excuse me??? this is the first i’m hearing of it

Lando: I KNEW IT he’s trying to abandon me with a paint roller and charles leclerc’s unresolved childhood trauma

Lily: he said nothing about this we are absolutely going

Lando: thank god you’re my favorite

Lily: i am texting him right now “prior engagement” my ass the engagement is with Belle’s wallpaper

Lando: can i stand next to you the whole time

Lily: yes but only if you bring cupcakes and stop calling it an emotional ambush

Lando: i make no promises

***

Text Messages: Lily Zneimer & Oscar Piastri

Lily: “prior engagement” ??? MAX’S NURSERY DAY IS NEXT WEEKEND AND YOU LIED

Oscar: i didn’t lie i deflected

Lily: we’re going. you’re painting something. lando is emotionally fragile. you are not abandoning him.

Oscar: i regret all of my life choices

***

Text Messages: Oscar Piastri & Lando Norris

Oscar:I hate you.

Oscar:Lily said i have to help you emotionally regulate during baby-themed social situations

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale)

Belle: Hi everyone— I wanted to let you know that we’re doing some nursery decorating on Max’s birthday. Nothing formal, just paint and furniture and probably chaos. We’ll be at the house all day. If anyone wants to come by and help, you’re welcome.

Belle: No pressure. But… if you want to be part of this, this is a good place to start.

Arthur: i’ll be there!! do i need to bring snacks??

Charles: Thank you for inviting us We’d love to help

Lorenzo: Do you need tools? Or wine?

Belle: both, probably

Pascale: Thank you, ma chérie. I’d love to come. Let me know what you need.

Belle:Just… bring yourselves. And maybe don’t wear white.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: just a heads up the entire Leclerc family might be at the house next weekend

Victoria: wait what like… the Leclerc family?

Max: all of them Belle invited them to help with the nursery on my birthday painting. furniture. emotional tension. the works.

Victoria: so… you’re telling me that i need to bring snacks, patience, and a fully charged phone for live updates

Max: absolutely arthur’s already trying to bring snacks so we’ll see how that goes

Max: i’m just warning you there will be wallpaper there will be feelings there may be passive-aggressive screwdriver moments

Victoria: i’m bringing wine and wearing black in case we need to mourn the concept of boundaries

Max: smart also maybe stay near belle just in case she needs backup

Victoria: always

Max: she’s trying so hard i just want it to go okay

Victoria: it will you’ve got me and a surprisingly motivated lando norris, apparently

Max: he’s been emotionally blackmailed into coming it’s beautiful

Victoria: see you there, birthday boy don’t let anyone cry on the crib mattress

Max: no promises

***

Team Redline Stream Transcript

Luke Crane: (laughing) “Okay, okay — last lap, and then serious question time. Max. Birthday boy. What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

Max: (without hesitation) “Ah, nothing crazy. My family’s coming over.”

Gianni Vecchio: “So what, big party? Michelin chef? Yacht? Balloons shaped like racing trophies?”

Max:  “No, nothing like that this year.” (pauses, completely deadpan) “We’re doing the nursery.”

(beat of stunned silence)

Chris Lulham: “…You’re doing what?”

Max: (grinning now) “You heard me.”

Chris: “Mate. Like… baby nursery?”

CHAT: 🧡🧡🧡 “Wait. THE NURSERY??” “HELLO???” “Is this how we find out he’s building the baby room???” “MAX. HELLO. BACK UP.” “Soft dad mode ACTIVATED.” “27 and domesticated.” “Say ‘my wife’ next, I dare you.”

Max (nodding, smiling like it’s the best thing in the world): “Yeah. Belle wants everything up before December, so we’re starting now. Wallpaper, furniture, the works. It’s… nice. Feels real.”

Luke: “You’re telling me you, Max Verstappen, multi-time F1 World Champion, are spending your birthday assembling a crib?”

Max: “Yeah. Why not? We’ve got to put up the wallpaper. And the mobile thing. The one with the little monkeys. I have been trying to build the giraffe lamp for three days and failing.”

CHAT: “BELLEEEE 🥺” “JUNGLE. NURSERY. I’M DEAD.” “Wait it’s a jungle theme I can’t breathe that’s so cute.” “HE SAID HER NAME.” “‘My family is coming over’ = wife + baby bump confirmed.” “IKEA collab when.”

Luke:  “Do we get a vlog? A ‘Verstappen Builds a Jungle’ series?”

Max:  “You can come help if you want.”

Luke:  “Absolutely not. I’m not getting blamed if the giraffe ends up upside down.”

Max: (shrugging)  “It’s Belle’s vision. I’m just the assistant. And maybe the muscle.”

Chris:   “Can’t believe the guy who nearly flipped a kart at age nine is excited about monkey mobiles.”

Max:  “Yeah, well. Turns out there are better things than trophies.”

Gianni:  “…you’re telling me your birthday party is IKEA furniture and jungle wallpaper?”

Max (smiling): “Yeah. And honestly? I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Chris: “God, he’s in deep.”

Luke: “Deep? He’s gone. Man said nursery like it was a five-star spa weekend.”

Max: “It kind of is. You don’t know joy until you see Belle looking at stuffed lion.”

Gianni: “Max Verstappen: Three-time World Champion. King of the jungle nursery.”

Max: “Soon-to-be father of one very spoiled, very loved little monkey.”

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/gridwife: MAX VERSTAPPEN SAID “YOU DON’T KNOW JOY UNTIL YOU SEE BELLE LOOKING AT STUFFED LIONS” don’t touch me i’m emotional

@/rbrarchive: i don’t want Drive to Survive i want a 4-part miniseries called “Verstappen Builds a Jungle”

@/formulafem: Belle: “Don’t make it all about me.” Max: “Her name is Belle. She wants monkeys. I love her. My job is giraffe assembly.” 🥹🥹🥹

@/kartsandcookies: Soft dad era Max Verstappen is stronger than any Red Bull aero package. He’s GONE. He’s in the jungle with a mobile in one hand and an allen key in the other.

@/f1contentqueen: We just watched Max Verstappen admit live on stream that he’s building a jungle-themed nursery for his child. On his birthday. Because Belle wants it done before December. Sir. You are the prize.

@/itsgivingdadenergy: 27. Multi-World Champion. Could be celebrating on a yacht. Instead: – Crib assembly – Monkey mobile – Jungle wallpaper – Saying “there are better things than trophies” 🥹

@/alonsohascats: MAX SAID BELLE WANTS “EVERYTHING UP BEFORE DECEMBER” SOFT DEADLINE?? BABY VERSTAPPEN ETA CONFIRMED FOR DECEMBER???? HELLO????

@/verstappenanon: You can actually hear Chris Lulham’s soul leave his body when Max says “the nursery.” I need the highlight reel. I need the full transcript. I need therapy.

@/sheercontent: Please understand that “Soon-to-be father of one very spoiled, very loved little monkey” is now my religion.

@/formulaiconics: Someone asked Max Verstappen what he’s doing for his birthday and he said “assembling jungle furniture for my unborn child.” This man has never been hotter.

@/gridtea: Max: "My family is coming over." Us: oh cute. Max: "We're doing the nursery." Us: EMOTIONAL COLLAPSE

@/carbonsnack:

I regret to inform you that Max Verstappen is so deep in domestic bliss he considers building IKEA furniture a birthday treat.

@/chaosandcarbon:

Max Verstappen, in 2019: “I’m here to win.”

Max Verstappen, in 2024: “I’ve been trying to build the giraffe lamp for three days.”

@/iknowaboutthegiraffelamp

if you’d told me five years ago that Max Verstappen would be losing sleep over a giraffe lamp and grinning about baby mobiles on Twitch I would’ve called you delusional but here we are

***

The plan had been simple.

Paint the nursery. Assemble the crib. Maybe hang the curtains. A cozy afternoon with a few close people.

Instead, there were 20 humans, two stepladders, a very suspicious IKEA instruction manual, and one giraffe lamp with a death wish.

***

In one corner of the nursery:

“Don’t force it,” Lily said calmly, crouched beside Oscar as she braced the neck of the lamp, her fingers steady against the ceramic.

“I’m not,” Oscar replied, tone even, brows furrowed in concentration as he adjusted the internal wiring with surgical precision. “But whoever assembled this originally had a deep disregard for physics. Possibly also sanity.”

Lily glanced at him, amused. “So Max, then.”

He gave her a long, unimpressed look. “Do you want the giraffe to work or not?”

She held up one hand in surrender but didn’t let go of the lamp. “Please continue your delicate surgery, Doctor Piastri.”

Oscar muttered something under his breath about hostile work environments, but his hands were careful, his focus razor-sharp. Despite the chaos unfolding around them—Arthur dropping wallpaper paste on the floor, Charles reading the instructions upside down, Lando declaring himself a “pattern expert”—the corner they’d carved out for themselves was oddly peaceful.

They’d been working on the lamp for nearly twenty minutes. Rewiring the socket, re-aligning the brass hardware, and gluing down a chip in the giraffe’s ear with Lily’s travel-sized nail glue. The giraffe’s head, slightly cocked to the side, had a vaguely judgmental expression, as if it, too, was questioning every decision that had led to this moment.

It fit right in.

“There,” Oscar said finally, sitting back on his heels. “Moment of truth.”

He reached up and flipped the switch.

The giraffe’s eyes lit up—literally. Two soft golden bulbs nestled behind the ceramic pupils flickered to life, casting a warm, slightly eerie glow around the corner of the nursery.

Lily gasped, delighted. “It’s majestic.”

Oscar tilted his head. “It’s deeply unsettling.”

“Majestically unsettling,” she corrected. “I’m naming him Gerard.”

Oscar blinked. “Gerard?”

She nodded, solemn. “He’s seen things. He has opinions. He’s here to supervise.”

Oscar glanced at the giraffe’s glowing face and then at Lily. “We’re not keeping this in the corner. It’s going next to the changing table. That way the baby can meet Gerard during every diaper change.”

“Perfect,” Lily said. “An early lesson in judgment and accountability.”

They both laughed, low and warm, the kind of laugh that comes from knowing each other too well and still liking what they find.

Across the room, Belle caught the glow out of the corner of her eye and smiled. “Did you fix it?”

Oscar looked up. “Gerard lives.”

Belle blinked. “You named the lamp?”

Lily patted Gerard on the head. “He named himself.”

Max, overhearing, just said, “If that lamp judges me at 3am while I’m trying to swaddle a screaming child, I’m throwing it in the bin.”

Oscar stood, dusting off his hands. “He’d survive. Gerard has strong main character energy.”

***

In another corner of the nursery:

“Okay,” Alexandra said, holding up a brass knob shaped like a monkey. “We’ve got a giraffe, an elephant, a lion, a hippo, and this little guy. Rank them in order of jungle superiority.”

“Giraffe wins for drama,” Emilie said, without looking up as she carefully smoothed down a tiny cotton onesie covered in embroidered leaves. “Monkeys are too chaotic. They’re basically Lando with a tail.”

Charlotte, on her knees by the partially assembled dresser, looked up with a grin. “So lion goes in the center drawer. Obviously. Power placement.”

“Agreed,” Alexandra said, already unscrewing the generic silver knobs from the dresser Max had built three weeks ago and left in ‘temporary, totally functional’ mode. “This child will be raised with aesthetics and authority.”

“Also, do we alphabetize the clothes?” Charlotte asked, holding up a delicate pale green muslin romper. “Or organize by size? Or by outfit vibe?”

Emilie blinked. “Is… outfit vibe a category?”

Charlotte shrugged. “If it’s not, I’m inventing it. Look at this cardigan. It’s giving ��baby goes to brunch.’ This one?” She held up a tiny zip-up hoodie with bear ears. “This is ‘baby goes camping but stylishly.’”

Alexandra held up a pair of overalls the size of a dinner napkin. “This is ‘baby is emotionally prepared for tax season.’”

Emilie snorted. “Belle is going to walk in here and either cry from joy or immediately revoke our access to her child’s wardrobe.”

“I’m betting on both,” Charlotte said.

They laughed, quietly, gently, surrounded by soft fabrics and the scent of wood polish. Emilie reached for the drawer handles and began screwing on the animal knobs—giraffe on the top left, lion in the middle, elephant bottom right. It was absurd how satisfying it felt.

“Does this feel… real to you?” Alexandra asked after a moment, her voice a little softer now. “Like… Belle is having a baby.”

Emilie paused, hand resting on the edge of the dresser. “Sometimes, no. And then I fold a pair of newborn socks and remember that a tiny person is going to wear them.”

Charlotte added, “A tiny person with Max Verstappen’s DNA. Which means we’re probably going to have to baby-proof the sim rig by month four.”

Emilie smiled, but her eyes were warm. “They’re going to be so good at this.”

“They already are,” Alexandra said.

Emilie screwed in the last knob—a hippo, slightly crooked, just enough to be charming.

“Done,” she announced.

Charlotte leaned over to inspect. “That hippo is judging me.”

“Perfect,” Emilie said, sitting back on her heels. “He and Gerard the giraffe lamp can have meetings.”

***

In another corner: 

It was supposed to be a straightforward job.

 One wall.

Four panels of jungle-themed wallpaper.

An afternoon of light banter and bonding.

Instead, it had become a cautionary tale about letting three Leclercs, two Verstappens and a chaos-addicted McLaren driver do anything involving measurements.

“Okay,” Max said through gritted teeth, holding the smoothing tool in one hand and a strip of wallpaper in the other, “this is the last panel. We just need to line it up with the tree trunk on the previous one.”

Charles leaned in, squinting. “It’s already misaligned.”

“I haven’t even put it on the wall yet, Charles.”

Arthur, standing precariously on the second ladder with a glue brush in one hand and his phone flashlight in the other, said, “It’s the giraffe that’s off. Look. Its legs don’t line up.”

Lando, sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaned back slowly until he was lying flat, arms splayed out dramatically. “I could be anywhere else. I could be in Bali. Or dead. Either would be better than this.”

“You’re not helping,” Max muttered.

“I told you I wasn’t helping,” Lando said, voice muffled by the carpet. “I was promised cake and low-stakes birthday vibes. Not psychological warfare disguised as home improvement.”

Lorenzo sighed loudly. “I said we should’ve started with the right side and worked left. But nooo, Arthur had a system.”

Arthur looked offended. “My system was logical!”

Jos, standing by the door like a deeply disappointed god, crossed his arms. “Your system has resulted in two upside-down leaves, a floating lemur, and ten minutes of arguing about tree trunks.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “We wouldn’t be arguing if people listened to me when I said we needed a laser level.”

“NO ONE OWNS A LASER LEVEL, CHARLES,” Max snapped, eyes wild.

“I do,” Jos said, calmly.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“What?” he asked. “I like precision.”

Lando groaned from the floor. “I’m going to fake an injury. Someone drop a bookshelf on me.”

“Can we please just get this on the wall before my son graduates university?” Max asked, voice climbing into a pitch usually reserved for pit wall frustration.

Jos stepped forward silently and took the smoothing tool from Max’s hand.

“Oh, thank god,” Lando muttered.

With terrifying precision, Jos adjusted the paper, ran the tool down the seam, and stepped back. It was perfectly aligned.

No one said a word for a full five seconds.

Then Jos, still deadpan, muttered, “It’s like working with unmedicated squirrels.”

Arthur snorted.

Lorenzo looked personally wounded.

Charles opened his mouth and wisely closed it again.

Max dragged a hand down his face. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

Lando, now half-asleep on the floor: “Because you love Belle. It’s always because you love Belle.”

Jos handed the smoothing tool back to Max and walked out without a word.

A moment of silence followed.

Then Arthur said, “Should we… fix the lemur?”

Max turned slowly. “If you touch that wall again, I’m using your face to test the crib mattress.”

***

In another corner: 

The nursery was full of chaos—ladders, laughter, half-screwed drawer knobs, wallpaper that had probably driven someone to therapy. So Belle had retreated to the sun-drenched living room with a basket of baby clothes and a folding station made out of the coffee table. Victoria helping her sort the clothing by size. 

Sophie knelt near the bookshelf, methodically stacking picture books and board games by theme and height. Pascale perched neatly on the edge of the armchair, holding a cup of herbal tea. 

In the hallway just outside, the sounds of chaos filtered in: a thump, a shout, and the unmistakable hiss of an offended cat.

“I said don’t chase Sassy with the tambourine!” Tom called, exasperated.

“We’re not chasing it, we’re guiding her with sound!” one of the children yelled back.

Victoria winced. “That’s the third time today.”

Belle sighed.  “She’ll live. Granted, she’ll loudly complain to Max this evening, but she’ll survive. ”

They shared a smile, the kind of tired, knowing thing women passed between each other without words.

The conversation drifted toward baby names as Belle started sorting through the pile of baby clothing.

“We’ve narrowed it down,” she said casually, “but we’re still thinking about middle names.”

“Have you considered something from your side of the family?” Victoria asked gently.

Pascale perked up immediately, voice sweet with just the faintest edge of expectation. “I always thought Hervé would be such a lovely tribute.”

The words hung in the air.

Belle’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. “Yes,” she said, carefully. “We’ve talked about it.”

“I just think,” Pascale continued, smiling, “it would be such a nice way to honor your father. Especially since it’s a boy. Your father would’ve been so proud.”

Sophie, without looking up from her espresso, said, “Would he?”

Pascale blinked. “Excuse me?”

Sophie set her cup down and looked up slowly, voice as calm and cutting as a fine blade. “You speak as if love and grief are simple. As if honoring someone is a duty, not a choice.”

Belle’s breath hitched, just slightly.

“He was her father,” Pascale said, defensively.

“Yes,” Sophie said. “And he made choices that hurt her. That shaped her. That took something from her she never got back. That doesn’t make him a villain. But it does make this complicated.”

“I’m not saying he was perfect,” Pascale said stiffly. “But he was part of her.”

“And she’s allowed to decide which parts she wants to pass on,” Sophie said. “You may think you’re asking for a tribute. But what she hears is a demand.”

Pascale fell quiet. Not insulted. Just… still. Like someone who’d finally heard something that made the ground tilt.

Belle didn’t speak. She just folded a blanket slowly, fingers steady even though her throat was tight.

Sophie’s voice softened. “If Belle chooses that name, it should be because it brings her peace. Not because she feels indebted to grief.”

Victoria reached out and gently squeezed Belle’s hand.

And then—quietly, almost too quiet to hear—Pascale said, “I never thought of it like that.”

Belle looked up.

Pascale swallowed. “I just… I thought I was helping. I thought keeping his name alive meant something. But maybe I was asking her to carry something I should’ve been carrying myself.”

Sophie nodded, sitting back. “Then perhaps now, you can start letting her choose her own way to remember him.”

***

Instagram Stories: @/victoriaverstappen

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/sportschaosnet max verstappen going from “i don’t need friends” to “i have a jungle-themed nursery and a sister who writes poetry about it” is MY roman empire

@/OscarHardLaunch MAX HAS A NURSERY THERE IS A JUNGLE THEMED NURSERY THE CATS HAVE BEEN DEFEATED THE ERA HAS BEGUN

@/wheresthedrama Studio_B tag = BELLE IS THE DESIGNER = Max Verstappen’s wife is actually an interior architect with immaculate taste Do not speak to me I’m in mourning for my own walls

@/featherandfuel “Happy birthday, Max. You picked the best kind of life.” HELLO???? I’M CRYING IN TARGET

@/MaxVerstappenDefenseSquad can’t believe max verstappen’s redemption arc includes a eucalyptus mobile, a giraffe lamp, and an younger sister who now speaks in emotional prose

@/charlesgirliesunite i just know charles walked into that nursery and immediately questioned every aesthetic choice he’s ever made

@/formulalatte tbh the only thing more powerful than belle’s design taste is victoria's commitment to chaos. what do you mean “objective: avoid punching my brother” girl HELP

@/verstappenupdates victoria tagging @studio_b like belle isn't her sister-in-law and bestie now LMAOOO supportive queen

@/circuithearts max verstappen having a jungle nursery and victoria getting emotional about it was not on my 2024 bingo card but I’m here for the domestic era

@/softerverstappen “Happy Birthday, Max. You picked the best kind of life.” i am on the FLOOR. this is max’s roman empire.

***

The house was quiet. Max had gone out for a drive to clear his head after dinner, and the chaos of the day—the laughter, the teasing, the wallpaper war—had finally settled into a gentle hum in Belle’s memory.

She sat cross-legged on the rug in the half-lit nursery, a notepad resting on her knee. The giraffe lamp—Gerard—cast a golden glow over the list of names she’d scribbled and rewritten so many times the page had started to wrinkle.

She wasn’t even pretending to be objective anymore. The list was chaotic. A mix of classic and unusual, soft and strong. Names Max had liked. Names Belle had dismissed. Names from books. Names from nowhere.

And again—again—her pen landed on the same one.

Emilian.

She wrote it down softly. Fourth time this week.

She didn’t say it out loud. Didn’t need to. Just traced the letters, over and over, until the ink deepened and the paper thinned beneath it.

It was Max’s middle name. One he almost never used. One that came up once in conversation, early on, and she’d filed it away without knowing why.

But that wasn’t the only reason.

It was Emilie, too. The girl who had stood beside her in everything. The one who’d carried her grief like it was nothing and handed her back joy in return. It was Emilie’s laugh. Emilie’s loyalty. Emilie, who had become something like a sister without ever asking for the title.

Emilian.

It felt right in a way she couldn’t explain.

Strong, but soft. Steady.

She never said anything to Max. Not yet. She didn’t know if she was allowed to name something so permanent after people who already meant so much. Didn’t know if Max would see it as sentimental or strange.

So she kept the name to herself.

Wrote it at the top of every new page.

Circled it absentmindedly when she talked to the baby alone in the quiet.

Sometimes whispered it under her breath when she folded tiny onesies or passed by the crib and imagined someone small in it.

Emilian.

Maybe she was waiting to see if Max said it first. Or maybe she just needed to be sure.

But again and again—when she closed her eyes, when she dreamed of someone with Max’s eyes and her stubbornness—

That was the name that came back.

[mariclerc]

Dad duties | cl16

Summary: where you meet an adorable dad and his little girl at the beach. Warning: none, just dad!charles, a little emotional, instant crush and FLUFF, pure fluff.

a/n: Hii, a long time ago I was thinking about doing a story about what Charles would be like as a single dad... Something crazy, I know, but I hope you like it!! Let me know if you want a part two of this <3

Part 2 Part 3

Sun gleams off the turquoise water, gentle waves lap at the shore. You walk along the beach, toes sinking into the warm sand. Giggles suddenly catches your attention, you turn to see a little girl, barely a year old, with bright eyes and a head full of messy curls, crawling determinedly towards you. She reaches you, grabbing a handful of your sundress. You smile, kneeling down to her level.

“Hey there, little one. You seem a little bit lost.”

The girl babbles happily, reaching for your sunglasses. You chuckle and gently remove them, placing them on top of your head.

A shadow falls over you. You look up to see a tall, handsome man with kind greenish eyes and sun-streaked hair... He looks slightly flustered.

“Oh god, I'm so sorry, that's my little escape artist Ava, come here to Papa munchkin.” He smiles apologetically.

Ava squeals and reaches for him. He scoops her up effortlessly, her tiny giggles filling the air.

“Don't worry, she's adorable! How old is she?” you asked.

“One year old, going on a hundred!” He winces as Ava grabs a fistful of his hair. You can't help but laugh. “Ouch, sweetie that hurts!” He says and Ava giggles.

“Looks like she has you all wrapped around her little finger.”

“Definitely.” he chuckles.

He introduces himself as Charles, you tell him your name. To your surprise, the conversation flows easily, you learn he's a single dad, the love and devotion evident in his gaze as he talks about Ava. He opens up about his complicated relationship with his ex (Ava's mother), the challenges of dating as a single parent. You listen intently, impressed by his honesty and dedication to his daughter.

“You seem to be doing a great job, Charles. And that's impressive, you know, how hard you work and try to be the best every day for her.” you smile.

Ava snuggles closer to him, burying her face in his neck.

“I manage to do a good job... It's definitely a handful, but she's worth it all.” he smiles.

A comfortable silence settles between you. You steal a glance at him, then quickly look away, cheeks warming. You sense a similar flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.

“Well, maybe I should let you get back to building sandcastles with your princess.” You say with a bit of haste.

“Actually, I was wondering... Would you maybe, I don't know, maybe... Want to grab some ice cream with us sometime? Ava loves company, and frankly, so do I.” He speaks hurriedly.

You feel a flutter in your chest. This unexpected encounter has taken a sweet turn. “I'd love to. Thanks!” you smile.

Ava lets out a delighted squeal, as if sensing the possibility of ice cream, You and Charles giggle at her reaction.

“Great! How about next Saturday? Same place? How does that sound?”

You nod. “Sounds perfect.”

He smiles, you can see how the corners of his eyes wrinkle, something very cute for you. “Perfect... Ehm, here! Write down your number and I'll write down mine.” He says as he takes out his cell phone to give it to you and you take yours out of your beach bag to hand it to him.

You wrote your number on his cell phone with the name of: "y/n the life-saver 🎀". When he finishes he gives you your cell phone back and you see that he has registered himself as: "Charles the handsome dad 😋" you can't help but laugh at the name.

“Well, then I'll write to you to keep in touch... Handsome dad.” You say with a giggle and he blushes.

Ava yawns, nuzzling deeper into his embrace.

“I think someone's getting tired.” you giggle while looking at Ava.

“She probably is. Sand and sunshine can be exhausting for little ones.” He says and then smiles a little. “This was unexpected... But so nice.” he says quietly.

“Yeah, definitely nice!” you say meeting his warm gaze.

A blush creeps up Charles' neck as he finally pulls back slightly.

“See you next Saturday then, Y/N, it was nice to meet you!”

You smile. “It was also nice to meet you both!”

He nods, a goodbye lingering in his eyes. Charles walks away, cradling a sleepy Ava in his arms, you watch them go, a warm feeling spreading through you. This chance encounter has blossomed into something promising, and as you turn towards your car, a smile lingers on your lips. The beach seems a little brighter now, filled with the promise of sunshine, ice cream, and maybe, just maybe, something more.

Suddenly, your phone buzzes in your pocket. It's a text message. You pull it out, expecting a message from a friend, but your heart skips a beat when you see the name displayed on the screen - Charles the handsome dad 😋.

Charles the handsome dad 😋: Ava just fell asleep. She kept asking for "y/n." Any chance you have a favorite ice cream flavor? Trying to win some brownie points for Saturday afternoon.

A laugh escapes your lips. He's charming, that's for sure. You quickly type a response.

y/n the life-saver 🎀: Chocolate chip cookie dough, always! And tell Ava I said goodnight. See you on Saturday cha!

You hit send and a warm feeling washes over you. This unexpected encounter has taken a delightful turn, and with a giddy anticipation for saturday's ice cream date, you turn back towards the ocean. The waves seem to whisper a promise of something exciting to come, and you can't wait to see where this newfound connection might lead.

***

The cheerful clinking of spoons against ice cream sundaes fills the air. You sit across from Charles at a brightly colored table, a giant chocolate chip cookie dough sundae melting in front of you. Ava, nestled comfortably in a high chair, digs into a kid-sized strawberry sundae with a look of pure bliss.

He chuckles “Looks like someone's enjoying their treat.”

Ava lets out a happy gurgle, a smear of red adorning her cheek. You laugh, you leaned towards her to wipe her cheek.

“She's definitely got a sweet tooth.” you say while wiping her cheek.

Charles takes a bite of his own sundae, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just like her dad. Thanks for the recommendation, this cookie dough ice cream it's fantastic!” he smiles.

“My pleasure, I'm glad you both like it.”

Ava reaches out, grabbing a stray piece of cookie dough from your sundae. You laugh, helping her bring it to her mouth.

“Careful, little one, that's a big bite!”

Charles watches the interaction between you and Ava, a smile playing on his lips.

“You seem to have a way with kids.” He says softly while looking at the two of you with adoration.

You shrug. “I guess so, I have a younger brother, so I've had my fair share of practice.”

The conversation flows easily between bites of ice cream, you learn more about Charles' life as a single dad, the challenges and rewards that come with it, he talks about his passion for racing, a twinkle in his eyes as he describes his dream of one day competing professionally. You share your own dreams and aspirations, surprised at how comfortable you feel opening up to him.

As Ava starts to get cranky, signaling the need for a nap, you suggest taking a walk along the nearby park. Charles readily agrees.

A comfortable silence settles between you. You both steal glances at each other, the unspoken attraction hanging heavy in the air. You reach the edge of the park, the familiar beach stretching before you.

“Looks like we're back where it all began.” you blush slightly.

“It does, doesn't it? Funny how things work out.” he smiles.

He stops walking, turning to face you. Ava lets out a whimper in her sleep, prompting Charles to gently bounce her in his arms.

“This was... so nice, I mean, this sweet afternoon and last week at the beach, it's very... Unexpected, but very good.” He says quietly with a smile on his face.

You meet his gaze, your heart fluttering in your chest.

You smiled. “I also liked it! Ava's such a sweetheart, and you seem like... a good guy, a really good and nice guy.”

He smiles back, a genuine warmth radiating from his eyes.

“I, uh... I was wondering if maybe, sometime next week, you'd like to have dinner? Just the two of us, after Ava's asleep?” He says with a bit of hesitation.

Your stomach does a nervous flip-flop, but a wide smile stretches across your face.

“I'd like that very much Charles.”

A wave of relief washes over Charles. He leans forward slightly, his eyes searching yours.

“Great... In that case, how about I give you a proper goodbye this time?” He says with a bit of flirtation in his voice.

Before you can respond, he leans in further, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss is brief, sweet, and filled with unspoken promise.

Ava lets out a startled gurgle, breaking the spell. Charles pulls back with a laugh, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Looks like our little chaperone wants to get home.” he chuckles and blushes.

“Seems that way.” you giggled while blushing.

He walks you back to your car, Ava snuggled contentedly against his chest.

“Text me when you get home, so I know you made it safe. And maybe, just maybe, you can tell me what your favorite dinner is.” He says while blushing a little.

You laugh a little bit. “Don't worry, you'll be very well fed.”

He smiles, a hint of something deeper lingering in his gaze. You wave goodbye as he drives away with Ava, a warmth spreading through your chest. The unexpected encounter at the beach has blossomed into something exciting, and as you watch the sun disappear over the horizon, you can't wait to see where this new path might lead.

[championari]

So I’m constantly thinking about Charles and how he could eventually meet Edwin with his feelings.

Here’s something I realized: Charles, despite constantly talking about things he miss, things he wants, he actually has a complicated relationship with desire as a concept.

How I would put it is by taking Supernatural as an example. There’s an episode in Season 5 where the boys meet Famine, a horseman of the apocalypse. However, Dean is not at all affected by him. It’s because due to being the older brother, and a Hunter, Dean was never allowed to consider acting on or even having desire for anything.

You can see where I’m going with this. Charles, like Dean, doesn’t actually believe he should want anything, due to “not being good enough”.

This is something actually touched on subtly in the show through the acting. When Niko says, “I know what it’s like to want something you can’t have.” Edwin directly looks at The Cat King’s bracelet, while Charles stares off into space. When Tragic Mick describes Angie’s light as enforcing a sense of yearning, Edwin looks at Charles, while again, Charles looks off blankly (can’t access screenshots right now). Edwin knows what he wants but is scared of it, while Charles doesn’t know what he wants because he can’t allow himself to consider it. This gives an entirely new meaning to Charles’ hatred of the Cat King. A supernatural entity who describes his kingdom as being about “want and pleasure”. Thomas is the encapsulation of everything Charles was never allowed to have. Charles chases after things that he knows he can’t have, romancing a living girl despite knowing she will eventually leave. Charles can’t consider returning Edwin’s feelings because that would mean he’s been running away from what’s been in front of him the whole time. That what he wanted was always there, at his lowest point, when he thought he deserved it least.

Returning Edwin’s feelings means he was already enough. And Charles can’t imagine that yet.

While I would obviously adore an interaction between Charles and Desire of The Endless, ultimately I don’t think it would do anything. Like Dean, Charles might be completely unaffected by them because he’s spent most of his existence building walls around his desires. Edwin was completely blindsided by Thomas because he never even considered having to think about Desire due to having no attraction to women and that being the dominant narrative of his time. Charles pursues Crystal because he still wants to feel like he has a chance at “normal life” (which as I said is self-punishment by throwing himself at something he knows he can’t have). To accept that he’s in love with Edwin would mean no longer pursuing a living person. Edwin would be it for him, which he kind of already gets but it hasn’t fully sunk in yet. Just like his death

There's also this exchange that drives me nuts:

"You gave up tranquil eternity…for your friend?" "Does that sound like someone who belongs in Hell?"

THIS. MAKES. ME. INSANE. Because Charles, like he always does when confronted with his own wants, completely avoids it. He doesn't respond to The Night Nurse's obvious confusion as to why he ran from Death, and instead turns the conversation back to Edwin. He makes it all about what Edwin deserves, not what Charles saw in Edwin that led him to make that choice. You could say this is practical as time is of the essence, but I think that's the point. Charles throws away the chance to explain his viewpoint on their first meeting, the consequences of his choice to run from Death with a boy he just met and knew for a few hours, and instead remains single-minded on Edwin's safety. Like when Edwin reasonably questioned, "Why are you getting angry?" when he began freaking out over Thomas getting close to Edwin, he says nothing.

There's just so much happening in that head that I can't stop thinking about.

[mclacedes]

Let Them See (LH44)

a/n: writing angst wasn't helping my depressed ass at all so here's a smutty thought :)

summary: in which lewis has a controversially young girlfriend, who he suddenly isn't afraid of showing around

warnings: suggestive content, dirty talk, age gap, kind of sick, friends-to-lovers, secret relationship

WC: 1.9k

Everyone knew your relationship with Lewis was byword impulsive and complicated—not because you wanted it to be, but because of the circumstances you were in.

The 16-year age gap between you and Lewis didn’t sit well with everyone, making discretion your only option. You hid away together, sneaking around like teenagers, leaning on each other in any four-walled space. You lost count of how many times you and Lewis went to the rented villa on Lake Como, being able to take bites off each other everywhere possible.

You’d lost track of how many times you’d escaped to the rented villa on Lake Como, stealing moments to lose yourselves in each other.

And you liked it that way. The secrecy, the privacy—you’d been the one to insist on it.

You first met Lewis when you were 22, and he was 38. It was 2023, and your connection had been instant. You became best friends, growing closer with each passing day. On your 23rd birthday, he’d gifted you 23 of your favorite books, each one holding a handwritten note.

Now, at 24, with him at 40, the age gap felt striking, unavoidable. Yet, there was something about it that thrilled you, made your pulse race, your mind whirl, and your body ache with a want you couldn’t quite explain.

Now, it was all speculation for the fans and entertainment for the other drivers, who relished watching you and Lewis attempt to keep your composure in front of the cameras. Every stolen glance and lingering touch fed the rumors, the intrigue, the tension.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, you couldn’t care less about the cameras or what anyone thought.

It was December 7th, 2025—the night of the final race of the season. The night Lewis cemented his legacy, securing his eighth world championship and becoming the most decorated driver in Formula 1 history. The long-awaited eighth had finally arrived, and the weight of it, the joy of it, was almost too much to contain.

Everyone was at the afterparty—everyone except Charles, who had been Lewis’s fiercest competitor throughout the season. They’d gone head-to-head in countless races, but Charles ultimately finished third in the championship, with Lando getting closer and closer to the so-dreamed-of championship.

But in the end, only one person could take it home. And there happens to be only one GOAT. It had been Lewis’ from the very start.

The room was filled with those who weren’t envious but proud, celebrating his historic achievement. It was a night of laughter, toasts, and admiration for the man who had just become an eight-time world champion.

Lewis sat on a couch in the VIP section of the Abu Dhabi club, slowly breathing in the air of victory and sipping on the glass of champagne in his hand, its price not even a thought in his mind.

The air of victory didn’t reek of the podium’s champagne or the faint musk of the club, though. It smelled just like your Dior perfume, your vanilla soap and your vanilla shampoo.

Victory looked like the pretty girl sat on his thigh, bobbing her head to the sound of the all-too-loud music, sipping off her own glass of golden bubbly beverage.

“I think I’m getting too old for this,” he murmured, his warm breath brushing against your ear, his lips so close you could feel every word.

You chuckled, throwing your head back in that carefree way that always made him smile—it was one of the little things he thought was the cutest about you.

“Wanna leave already, Sir? We’re barely started partying,” you teased, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping an octave, his words vibrating against your chest. “I’ve got far more interesting things waiting at home, Y/N. And trust me, we can party all night there too.”

The weight of his tone sends a shiver down your spine, warmth blooming low in your belly as the meaning behind his words settled in, making your pulse quicken.

Suddenly, you are too aware of how short your dress is and how his hand palms your thigh. You swallow hard, the music and chatter of the club fading into the background. His dark eyes are locked on yours, and the teasing curve of his lips only deepen your anticipation.

“Is that so?” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper, though you knew he could hear the challenge laced in your tone.

Lewis’s fingers traced idle circles on your thigh, his touch light yet deliberate. “You know it is,” he said, his grin growing darker, more possessive. “I’d even dare say… you like that idea, don’t you?”

“Outrageous!” you replied, flashing a mischievous smile, your teeth catching your bottom lip in a playful bite.

The warmth pooling in your belly grew as his hand slid up a fraction more, reaching the hem of your dress. His fingers toyed with the sequins, sending tiny sparks of sensation through your skin.

“Lewis…” you murmured, your tone caught between playful and cautious, though your smile faltered under his gaze. “We’re in public.”

His laughter rumbled low and deep, a sound that sent a shiver straight through you. “Then you’d better behave, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dangerously soft. His eyes never left yours, and his grin turned wicked as he added, “Because if you keep looking at me like that…” He let the words linger, charged and heavy with intent. “I might just have to take you right here.”

Your breath hitched, a mix of anticipation and adrenaline coursing through you as his words sank in. His hand lingered at the hem of your dress, just enough to tease, to test your resolve.

“Bold of you to assume I’d let you,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly, betraying your feigned confidence.

Lewis’s smirk deepened, his gaze never breaking from yours. “Oh, love,” he murmured, his voice like silk wrapping around you, “you’d not only let, you’d beg me to do so.”

Heat flushed through you, and you struggled to keep your composure under his piercing gaze. The music around you seemed to blur into white noise, the club melting away until it felt like it was just the two of you, locked in a silent battle of wills.

“Right… Then what if I told you I would absolutely love you to take me right here?” you said, batting your eyelashes as you looked into his soul through his eyes.

Lewis could feel his pants getting too tight around his crotch as you kept looking at him.

Lewis’s smirk grew even darker, the intensity in his gaze sending a shiver down your spine. “Shit, love…” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, rich and velvety, making a mess on your panties. “I have to remind you just how dangerous it is to play games you can’t win.”

The heat between you was palpable, a private flame burning brighter with every second. The noise of the club, the thrumming bass, the distant laughter—they all faded into oblivion. It was just him, just you, and the tension crackling like electricity in the air.

“Well, I’m not afraid of losing,” you whispered, leaning closer, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Maybe I want to see just how far you’d go, Lewis.”

His grip on your thigh tightened, and his dark eyes dropped briefly to your lips, before returning to yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. He was holding on by a thread, and you could tell he was teetering between self-control and giving in.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, his tone a warning laced with hunger.

You tilted your head, your confidence unwavering as you batted your lashes again. “Oh, except I do,” you replied softly, your voice dripping with challenge.

Lewis shifted in his seat, the tightness in his pants making his restraint all the more difficult. His jaw clenched briefly, his free hand resting on the back of your neck, his thumb grazing your skin in a way that sent a jolt through you.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear, his words a promise and a threat all at once.

But regret was the last thing on your mind. You leaned in, your breath warm against his cheek as you whispered, “Prove it.”

The heat between you was undeniable now, a private storm building despite the crowd around you. The world didn’t matter—the cameras, the whispers, the flashing lights. It was just him, just you, and the pull that neither of you could resist.

And as his lips brushed the shell of your ear again, he whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

He gently nudged you off his lap, rising to his feet. Taking your hand in his, he led you toward the exit. But just as you reached the door, a sudden burst of cheers echoed from the VIP bar.

Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, and Alex Albon were all staring at you two, grinning like they’d just caught wind of the hottest gossip in the room.

You smile, your cheeks flushing slightly, and bury your face in Lewis’ chest, hiding your laughter. He chuckles softly, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull back. As you step away, you look up to find him casually flipping off his co-workers with a playful grin.

A mischievous spark ignites within you, and without missing a beat, you mirror his action, flipping them off with a smirk of your own.

Lewis catches your move, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he watches you mirror him. His eyes gleam with approval, his playful side clearly taking over.

“That’s my baby,” he says, his voice low and teasing as he steps closer, his arm brushing against your shoulders, wrapping around your neck possessively.

The group of drivers, now aware of your shared gesture, laughs and shakes their heads, but their amusement only fuels your defiance. The tension between you and Lewis grows electric even when you two stop flipping the guys off, the playful challenge still lingering in the air.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the flashing lights, the cameras capturing every second of your interaction. The bright flashes momentarily blind you, but it's the weight of their gaze on both of you that makes your pulse race. It’s as if the entire world is watching, amplifying everything—the chemistry, the defiance, the thrill of the moment.

“Lewis…” you murmur, your voice low and laced with a mix of desire and curiosity.

Lewis doesn’t flinch at the attention, his smirk only deepening as he locks eyes with you. “Let them see. Let them gossip,” he murmurs, his thumb slowly tracing circles on your skin. “We’ve got this.”

Your heart pounds faster, the electricity between you undeniable. You hold his gaze, a playful yet daring smile curling on your lips.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says, his voice a quiet promise, a declaration of everything you both are, everything you’ve been in that moment.

And as the flashes of the cameras continue, you both walk hand in hand toward the door, leaving the noise, the chaos, the spotlight behind. All that matters now is the intoxicating pull between you two, and the freedom of knowing that whatever the world says, you’ve got each other.

The night belongs to you. And that’s more than enough.

[wcters]

𝗟𝗔𝗦 𝗩𝗘𝗚𝗔𝗦 𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛 𝗢𝗨𝗧

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!sainz!reader

word count: 1.3k+

summary: dating charles while he raced with your brother was complicated, but is even more complicated after the events of the las vegas grand prix

request: i cant stop thinking about the charles & carlos drama from vegas. would you be able to write an angst/fluff charles x sainz!reader fic where charles kinda lashes out on reader bec hes so angry at carlos. then they make up so some fluff in the end ,, thank you!

warnings: swearing, fighting (mostly charles being a dick, sorry), angst, fluff at the end, established relationships | sorry it’s so late, school and christmas has kept me busy 😔 i don’t think i can wait till march, and the way the eras tour ended the same day as the f1 season did had me sobbing 😭 i used translate for the spanish and french so if it’s wrong, please correct me, anyway, hope this is what you pictured !!!

For the first part of the race, you completely thought Charles had a chance of winning the race ━━ having moved from fourth to second ━━ but after the failed pass on George, you knew he was going to be upset. You also knew that he was going to be upset at your brother for overtaking him and getting podium when he was told not to. It was hard to be proud of your brother for getting podium while also mad at him for doing that to your boyfriend.

You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Charles, but it didn’t make situations like these any better. Both would feel betrayed no matter what you did, and that hurt because you loved them both. Carlos was your big brother, the man who introduced you to this sport and your love for it. The man who always supported you with your school work and degree, and doing whatever made you happy. Charles was your boyfriend, the man who you came home to every night and had conversations in the middle of the night with. The man who you imagined your future with: dancing in the kitchen, kids, what you’ve wanted ever since you were a kid. It was complicated, and it got even more complicated after you found out Carlos was traded to Williams.

You knew he was incredibly upset when he wouldn’t answer Bryan’s call for him over the radio. Then the whole speech happened and when he wouldn’t stop even after Fred hinted at it, that’s when you were called in with a desperate look from the two. “Charles, miel, you did what you needed to. You did the right thing. We’re so proud of you, mi amor. You can talk about it when you get back. I love you.” Bryan and Fred thanked you with a look and nodded, walking over to them once the radio was off.

“He’ll be fine, it might just take awhile.” They told you as you crossed your arms. “I know, it’s just unfortunate. If he asks, just tell him I’ll be back after the podium. If he lashes out at you, let me know. It’s not your fault,” you told them, rubbing their shoulders. “Thank you, chéri.” Fred thanked you. You just nodded and started to make your way to the podium with the rest of the Ferrari staff. You knew Charles would be salty that you were there, but he needed some time to himself before he talked to people. Especially before media.

The podium celebration was like the rest of them, besides the worry building up in your stomach. You were so proud of your brother for how he did this race, especially since he’s leaving at the end of the season, but you were worried about Charles as well. You know what he’s like, and you know how competitive he is. It just hurt that you can’t be in two places at once right now. You were thankful no champagne got on you ━━ no matter how hard your brother tried ━━ so when you finally got to Charles you weren’t rubbing it in even more.

You chatted with Bryan and Fred, as well as a couple more people before finally making your way to Charles’ driver room. You knocked first before calling his name. “Not right now Bryan, please.” “It’s me. Can I come in?” It was silent before the door opened and there stood Charles, eyes filed with anger and face filled with disappointment. “Oh cariño,” you sighed, pulling him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around you before you let him go and he sat back down on the couch in his room. “He always does this. Always.” He spoke up, his accent more noticeable as he got more upset. “Does what?” You asked softly, not trying to rile him up. Apparently that was the wrong move.

He rolled his eyes, “you know what.” You stayed silent. You had never felt this before, unwelcome. You didn’t know what to do. Charles was your boyfriend, but Carlos was your brother. “He did something wrong tonight, I know ━━“ “It’s not just tonight. Dieu, Y/n, why do you always stand up for him.” The anger in his voice was evident. “Excuse me?,” the shock displayed in your face, and in your voice. “You always do this. Always standing up for him and downplaying things he’s done wrong.”

At this point, you were tired of this conversation. Your boyfriend was gone to a point that nothing but some time would help him come down from his high. “I’m not talking about this.” You said, making your way to the door. “Yeah, go ahead, go to him.” You turned slowly. “Do not lash out at me because of something my brother did. I agreed with you, and you shut me out. Yes, he did something wrong, but it was him. Not me. I don’t deserve that. Now, I’m leaving and you better get yourself together before you do media because we all know you’ll regret what you’ll say when you’re angry tomorrow. I’ll see you when we leave.”

As the sounds of you walking away started to fade, Charles put his head in his hands. He knew you were right, but at this moment he was too filled with a mix of emotions that he knew he couldn’t work it out right now.

The car ride was filled with uncomfortable silence as you made your way back to your apartment. You could see the way that Charles’ hands gripped the steering wheel and how he refrained from putting his hand on your thigh like he usually did. You hadn’t talked after he lashed out at you. You understood he was frustrated, but you didn’t deserve for that to be put on you. That’s why you didn’t start a fight. You knew that he was upset and disappointed, so instead of trying to figure it out then, you saved him the stress ━━ and time ━━ and waited for him to apologize.

It stayed as you headed up to your apartment: in the elevator, as you opened the door, and as you started to come down from the race. You were the first one to speak. “You want water?” Although you were mad at him, you still cared and wanted to make sure he was okay. “No, thank you.” His voice was firm. You took a glance at him before getting your water and setting up on the couch. Charles probably wanted a shower, so you didn’t expect his shadow to fill your eye-line and for him to sit down next to you. “I’m sorry.” You paused the show you had put on as you faced him.

“I’m sorry. I was upset, but had no right to take it out on you. I’ve made a lot of mistakes tonight, that being one of them. I made a promise to you and your brother that I would never hurt you, and I know I slipped up tonight,but I intend to keep it that way. You are not your brother, and I know that he’s important to you as well as me. I should’ve apologized right away. I truly am sorry, miel.” He finally looked to face you. You grabbed his hands in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“I know. I know you are. I understand why you didn’t. That’s why I didn’t start a fight and left you alone. I didn’t deserve that and I’m glad that you are acknowledging that. It’s over now. We’ve apologized, we understood what we did wrong. Let’s just go to bed and if we need to, talk about it more tomorrow. Okay, amor?” You smiled at him. He nodded and smiled as you went to hold his face in your hands. You kissed him softly on the lips before you got up and held out your hand.

“Come on. I’m tired and our bed is calling our name. Plus, I deserve some cuddles after today.”

[julietsf1]

masterlist <3

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

my personal favourites are marked with a little star!

currently I've written fics for franco colapinto, lando norris, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, kenan yıldız

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

franco colapinto

irritating but irresistible (8k words) Alex Albon’s sister is not happy with Logan’s new replacement who seems to be very sure of himself.

Best Day Ever ☆ (6k words) Oscar's win and Franco's first points have to be celebrated. With her best friend Lando playing matchmaker and the tension between Y/N and Franco simmering, the night promises to be anything but ordinary. Sparks fly on the dance floor, but is Y/N ready to admit what’s really going on?

Post-Race Snuggles (1k words) After an intense Singapore GP, Franco’s idea of the perfect cool down is snuggling up in his girlfriend’s lap

From Raya to Rivalry (9k words) Carlos Sainz's little sister is pushed to the limit when rookie Franco Colapinto, who stood her up after a flirtatious encounter on Raya, re-enters her life—without any sign he remembers her at all. Between race weekends and time with friends the tension between them becomes impossible to ignore. Will Franco finally remember why she’s been driving him mad all along?

Chef's Kiss... but Maybe Not the Cooking (1.2k words) Franco might not be the best chef, but that doesn't ruin the night

Push & Pull (6k words) She has always kept Franco at a distance, teasing and confident that he’d never give up on her. But when he suddenly pulls away, she can’t stop thinking about him, realizing she might care more than she’s let on. Could it be that he’s been waiting for her to figure it out all along?

The Secret Admirer ☆ (7.5k words) She thought the biggest challenge this season would be her dynamic with her cold teammate, but mysterious notes and gifts start to complicate things. Who’s behind it, and what happens when she finds out?

Hurricane (5k words) When a hurricane leaves Y/N stranded at Charles’s Monaco apartment with a few of his friends, Y/N has to navigate both the storm outside and the one brewing inside.

Focus with Franco (2k words) Studying for exams is tough, but trying to focus while your yapper boyfriend, Franco, is around? Impossible.

Frights & Feuds (6.5k words) She and Franco never liked each other, but leave it to Lando to throw them into matching costumes at his Halloween party.

Love at first fright (2.2k words) You don’t know what is scarier, the haunted house where you are interviewing Franco or the way your heart speeds up around him.

Factory Reset (6k words) After a major crash, Franco Colapinto is sent to the Williams factory to work alongside the engineers repairing his car. Tensions run high as he’s forced to confront the realities of their work and the sharp wit of performance engineer Y/N. What begins as a clash of worlds becomes an eye-opening experience for both.

Holly Jolly Faking ☆ (8k words) Two people who can’t stand each other agree to fake a relationship to avoid meddling friends and unwanted matchmaking during their Christmas weekend away. What could possibly go wrong? [st. mleux reader]

A Technical Mistake ☆ (7k words) peaceful paddock mornings of stocking caps and shirts are flipped upside down when Franco Colapinto, a charming stranger she assumes is part of the tech crew, comes into her store and gives her weekend an unexpected turn.

The Sparks at Midnight (2k words) NYE at Lando's: a jar full of resolutions, a group of friends gathered around the fire to laugh, tease, and guess whose secrets were written on each slip of paper. With one very special resolution shaking things up for Y/N.

Crushes and Cortados (2.5k words) as a barista you see a lot of weird customers in a day, and this one Argentinian boy who keeps coming in every day is definitely one of them.

Ramentic Gestures (2k words) Franco thinks switching bowls is the chivalrous thing to do—until he takes a bite and realizes he’s made a terrible mistake

lando norris

The Idiot I Call Mine ☆ (7.1k words) best friends are supposed to share laughs, inside jokes, fries and the occasional late-night drive. what they’re not supposed to do is flirt like it’s a competitive sport or make you question every unspoken rule of friendship. at least, unless your name is Lando Norris apparently.

For her (3.2k words) She came to support him. Instead, she was met with hate and a paddock full of people who acted like she didn’t exist. But if there was one thing about Lando Norris, it was that he loved out loud

The Line We Never Crossed (7.5k words) Lando Norris has been treating you like an afterthought all season, which would be fine if you hadn’t nearly kissed him last year. your new job in the paddock means you can’t avoid him, and his petty cold shoulder act is starting to feel personal

Strawberry Season ☆ (6.7k words) she was his plus-one, his accessory, his afterthought. but Lando Norris? he made her laugh before her boyfriend even noticed she’d stopped smiling

charles leclerc

The Potion Project (12k words) When a week-long potions project pairs two opposites, something starts brewing between them as well (harry potter inspired)

Home Again (4.5k words) eight years, one city, and a thousand unspoken words—will a chance encounter in London bring closure, or is there more in store for Monaco's golden boy and the one who got away

kenan yıldız

Perfect Fit ☆ (8.5k words) Being Kenan’s stylist was supposed to be about clothes. Not lame excuses to spend time, lingering touches, and the slow realization that you might be in over your head

All is Fair in Love and Pastries (8k words) She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel.

Off Limits (18k words) Jude had one rule: his sister was strictly off-limits. Kenan really tried to listen, really did. But then you smiled at him, and, well—there was no coming back from that.

oscar piastri

Overtaking Your Expectations (3k words) Your biggest mistake this weekend? Underestimating Oscar Piastri. Now, he’s making sure you know it

[fangirlfuel]

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x younger!Female!OC

Genre: Age gap, Fluff, Smut, Angst

Synopsis: They say love always finds a way. But what happens when it finds its way between a 27-year-old Formula 1 driver and a 19-year-old biomedical sciences student? Charles Leclerc, a man who has dedicated his life to racing, and Serafina, a determined girl with big dreams in the world of STEM, seem like worlds apart. Add to that the 8-year age gap, and their relationship is anything but simple. Can love bridge the gap between their two very different worlds, or will the pressures of fame, career, and personal goals tear them apart? In this story, love is messy, complicated, and full of unexpected twists.

CHAPTERS

Intro

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 3

Ch 4

Ch 5

Ch 6

(Will se if there will be more !)

[mentally-ill-vaquero]

I think Javier has religious trauma.

I don't know if this counts as a fan theory, but I've been thinking about Javier, especially his relationship with the people in his life and authority.

It's quite clear that Javier resents how much power the church had over his village, and especially how much his mother still bought into their doctrine despite the murder of her brother (Javier's uncle).

Javier is, as far as I'm aware, the only openly religious person in camp; I'm not counting Swanson as 'openly religious' as we never see him actually praying in camp, and uses his Bible to hide morphine, though I still personally consider him semi-religious.

There's also an event where Sean teases Javier ('Vanity is a sin, Mr. Escuella'), and in my opinion, Sean isn't religious--or at least doesn't come across that way--and so I've always viewed this as Sean making a dig at Javier's faith, especially Javier's response ('So is judging others, my little friend').

I understand that Sean is Fenian, but he doesn't show any apparent references to being religious other than being slightly superstitious (the scene with Jack and the white rabbit comes to mind). Again, the only character in the gang shown as directly religious is Javier.

Catholicism is very much a dominant presence in Mexico today, and certainly was back in the late 1800s, so it wouldn't be much of a surprise that Javier is catholic... except it contradicts his character.

Sort of. It's complicated.

I understand that people can be religious and resent religious institutions. With Javier, though, this seems very specific.

He despises landowners and the government to the point of becoming a rebel and eventually an outlaw; he fled his home country, leaving his family behind (which greatly pains him), all for the cause.

And yet, after all the talks around the campfire where he complains about the church (getting very passionate whilst doing so), he's still religious...or is he?

I think Javier doesn't believe in the Bible willingly; I think he suffers from Catholic guilt (because of his trauma with the church), especially whilst living this lifestyle of sin, so he prays to rid himself of it; Javier, in my opinion, is absolutely TERRIFIED of Hell.

There's a scene with Javier praying, and Swanson comes stumbling in, and states, '...it's not too late to repent,' and again, there's this running theme of sin and confession relating to Javier and his faith. Javier responds (like with Sean) with a deflection: 'Oh, in that case, I'm sure there's priests who will happily take your confession.'

It even goes beyond Javier himself; Boaz is a Hebrew name meaning 'strength' or 'in him (is) strength' [thanks for pointing that out, @javierduffy] that appears in the Bible. I just thought this was worth mentioning as it goes to show religion seems to control every aspect of Javier's life, even after attempting to leave it all behind.

The thing that made me come to this conclusion, of all things, was his Saint Denis robbery outfit. Even before I started analysing the game and its characters, I always found it sort of odd that he wore...that mask.

Why a nun? Why not his bandana?

I believe that the masks worn by the gang (particularly Javier, Micah, Bill & Charles) have some deeper meaning, and I think Javier's represents the conflict within him and the lingering trauma of his faith.

A nun robbing a bank; an outlaw who fears God and Hell.

TL;DR Javier both resents his religion and what it represents, but subconsciously still fears it and thus holds God in high regard; however, he hates the fact it has this hold on him and does all in his power to defy it (by committing sin such as vanity, murder, etc.) but all this results in is Catholic guilt and tries to pray to rid himself of it, and so the cycle repeats over and over again.

Since you were interested, @scarfacemarston.

[verstappen-cult]

Request for a lestappen image. The reader has a complicated relationship with her mother, and she's upset that her mom doesn't support her career choices. She's an F1 engineer with a master's and her mom think she could be a professor. Both Max and Charles defend her from her mom, after an argument the reader and her mom had. Both Max and Charles comfort and take care of the reader after.

It was going well, too well. You should’ve expected it, but deep down you wanted to believe her intentions were good, that she really missed you. 

It’s always the same thing when your mother invites you to dinner, she’s all smiles and giggles, giving you a sense of comfort only to burst your bubble with her harsh words. 

Today was no different. Not even because you’ve brought Max and Charles with you for the first time. 

She was taking the dessert out of the fridge while you prepared some coffee for your boys when she opened her mouth to discuss the same thing over again. But this time you didn’t have time to argue, to let her know — again — that you’re happy where you are and with what you do, that you don’t need her contacts to give you a place in some fancy university because you’re happy traveling around the world and sharing a passion with your boyfriends. No, she didn’t let you say anything because she knows you’ll never accept anything that comes from her. So, she just kept talking, rude words coming out of her mouth, while you stood there, frozen in place unable to stand up for yourself, you can’t even cry at this point, so used to it—to her.

“What’s happening here?” Max has a frown on his face, blue eyes slightly squinted. “Are you okay, schatje?” His right hand finds your lower back, and you can, finally, breathe again.

“We are in the middle of a private conversation.” Your mother says in a warning tone, but Max doesn’t even flinch, he keeps looking at you.

“Conversation?” You didn’t notice when Charles joined you in the kitchen too, but you’re glad he’s there. “I’ve been listening to you for the past ten minutes and you haven’t let her speak once.” 

“It’s none of your business.” She simply says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Oh, but it is.” Max turns around to face your mother but you grab his wrist to stop him from moving away from you. 

He looks at you for a brief second and you whisper, “It’s not worth it.”

“We’re leaving.” He says, leaning to place a kiss on your forehead. Then, without leaving your side, he turns his head to look directly into your mother’s eyes. “You should be ashamed of yourself, acting like this at your age instead of being proud of how smart and amazing your daughter is.”

“Don’t bother calling, she won’t pick up.” You hear Charles saying from the kitchen as Max guides you out of the house, a huge combination of emotions making you want to cry. 

Only when you’re outside do you let the tears fall Max and Charles are right there by your side, holding you and whispering comforting words in your ears. 

“I’m not crying because of her,” You say, breathing out. “I’m so glad to have you with me.”

“I’ll defend you with my life.” Max says, his soft smile making the butterflies in your tummy go crazy. 

“I’ll fight anyone who dares disrespect you.” Charles looks so innocent while saying it that you can’t help the giggle that leaves your mouth, and their faces light up at hearing you.

“I’m gonna call that place we love so much to pick some Tiramisu on our way home.” Max takes his phone you of his back pocket.

“Can you order some vanilla ice cream too?” Charles asks with a pout and even though Max rolls his eyes you know he’ll have them add extra of everything.

“Oh, we can watch that romcom I've been dying to see all week!”

Max and Charles share a look before smiling at you, “Anything for you, baby.”

[bohoteacher]

Navigating Betrayal: Reconciling Admiration with Disillusionment

Like many Neil Gaiman fans this month, I've been shocked and distressed by the news regarding the SA allegations. I won't go over the details, as they're readily available online. I'll start by saying that I believe the accusers, and even the most lenient interpretation of events is still troubling enough to discredit Gaiman. For a long time, I didn't know what to say. I was just shocked and, somewhat naively, felt betrayed. I don't typically idolize actors, authors, or other public figures—I'm here for the characters, they're who I love and believe in. So, how did I end up believing in this man and his rhetoric?

I only had a parasocial relationship with him, which is to say no real relationship at all. But I took his Masterclass on writing, spent hours taking notes, and learned from him. I feel betrayed by someone I saw as a beloved teacher. I know this is insignificant compared to what the women who came forward experienced, but it's a valid feeling, and I needed time to process it. My initial reaction was to throw out and discount everything he’s ever written or done—of course it was.

This isn't just about my love for Good Omens, although how can it not be? I learned so much from this man—about writing, about not being too hard on myself, about the creative process. I read his books to my middle school classes, and we all learned how to be better people from them. Today, I saw and bought Instructions, a children’s book by Neil Gaiman illustrated by Charles Vess, from the used bookstore where I volunteer. It was a used copy, so no royalties will go to him. It’s a beautifully illustrated book where the main character walks through a land that clearly symbolizes life, learning lessons like saying please and "if any creature cries to you that it hurts, if you can, ease its pain." How could someone write this and then do what he did? I asked myself. "What an evil hypocrite," was my first thought. But then I recalled a line from another author, Stephen King. In The Stand, a character is described as "awake at the lectern, but asleep at the switch," meaning they know the right thing to do and can talk about it, but in the moment of choice, they act without integrity.

I don’t know if I’m making sense, but I think it’s too easy to label Gaiman as simply evil, as if he intentionally manipulated us by saying the right things just to make us read or watch his creations. The reality is likely far more complicated. Within this man is the amazing, thought-provoking, life-affirming wisdom that many of us have tried to live by, but also the hard, thoughtless, selfish cruelty that led him to abuse young, vulnerable women. The wisdom does not justify the abuse, and the abuse does not nullify the wisdom.

I think it's too simplistic to say Gaiman is despicable and always has been, hiding it from us all along. This doesn't acknowledge the complexity of human nature—that there is potential for both good and bad within us all. As it’s said, possibly by Terry Pratchett or possibly by Neil Gaiman, “It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”

Gaiman is a man who has done some fundamentally good things and some fundamentally bad things. I can’t forget either one.

This is just my opinion. I know some people want to cancel him, while others want to exonerate him. You do you. As for me, I will continue to love Aziraphale and Crowley. I will continue to read and create fan-fiction. I will continue to find comfort and wisdom in books that have meant so much to me over the years. But I will also remember that they were created by a very flawed man whom I can no longer trust.

I understand that opinions on this matter vary widely. I know some people might feel that not discarding everything associated with him is wrong, but this is where I stand. I’m not looking to debate this or be told how I should react. I just needed to process my thoughts in writing and move forward in the way that feels right for me.

[glamourscat]

⋆｡°✩ Songs I associate with the BLLK characters

౨ৎ CHIGIRI, BACHIRA, SHIDOU, RIN, KAISER, ISAGI, CHARLES, REO+NAGI, REO+CHIGIRI

CHIGIRI

boys don’t cry, by the cure

The song highlights the complexity of male invulnerability. With the song protagonist full on refusing to admit he has tears in his eyes. It’s reminds me of him for his struggles in admitting he needed help and how he hid his feelings after breaking his ACL. We saw the way he shut off, almost losing his drive and passion in football.

BACHIRA

dancing with myself, by Gen X

The song explores the complicated and bittersweet duality of being human and thus the connection we form. It’s about feeling alone in a crowded room, being on a crowded dance floor and yet being alone. Letting the world rush and move past you; while you have this profound sense of isolation within you. It’s about people who end up dancing with their own reflections, while struggling to deal with their own internal loneliness. Need to say more?

SHIDOU

dahlia by X Japan

A song about the inner turmoils we face as human beings, while we search the meaning of life, facing the pain that it brings during the journey. Both the beauty and the struggle that comes with life

“Time after time, you ask the night sky the reason why you were born… The river of undying tears shines like silver… Blowing in the cold wind, the birds are unable to fly… I embrace each dream, beneath the sky at dawn… Destiny, Alive Heaven, Love, Innocence, Always, Destroy, Aftermath, Hell, Life, Infinite”

REO AND CHIGIRI’s friendship

chiquitita by ABBA

However you wish to see Nagi and Reo’s dynamic, I personally see them as lovers. Maybe I will do a separate post about it. The song is a message of comfort for a heartbroken friend, giving hope for better days. It says heartaches come and go, leaving scars, but you’ll dance again and the pain will end eventually.

“You're enchained by your own sorrow In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow How i hate to see you like this There is no way you can deny it I can see that you're oh so sad, so quiet”

REO AND NAGI

the winner take it all by ABBA (I’m sorry but they literally fit in so many abba songs 😭)

A cry out about the difficulty of breaking up with someone. One person is clinging to the relationship, finding it difficult to let go, whilst the other can easily move on. Must I say more?

ISAGI

vienna by Billy Joel

Is no secret that Isagi has done huge steps in blue lock. But is also true that at times, he faced harsh realities and self doubt. Resulting him into rushing head first, to not feel like he was “being left behind”. Vienna, is a song about patience, self discovery and the passage of time. Exploring the importance of taking life at your own pace, rather than rushing because of societal expectations in order to grow.

CHARLES

alright by supergrass

This song is literally the embodiment of the spirit of youth. Being free to hang out, being free and silly. It captures Charles free like personality, with that “explosive” and almost child like aspect he has

KAISER

lose yourself by Eminem

The courage; despite all of the odds being against you, to push forward and to be determined to make it. Eminem talks about his broken family life, abuse and neglected from his mother, the struggles of growing up poor but still having the strength to push forward. To grab that one life time chance and to make it yours, turn the game in your favour

RIN

strappati lungo i bordi by Giancane

The song, main theme of the Italian hit animated series “tear along the dotted line”, highlights many themes. Some in particular reflect with Rin. It’s a song that heavy focuses on internal struggles. Like Rin, who is left stranded after everything that happened with Sae, he is trying to understand who he is and who he wants to be. Yet, he is torn between his insecurities, the pressure of having to excel and the need to prove something to Sae. The song expresses the conflict and the journey that comes with growth, but also the sense of being left behind while everyone moves forward.

pt2? :)

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr) likes, reblogs and comments welcomed <3

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 12 - The End

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 12 of 12!

They were alone. Just the three of them.

Colette had never felt so exhausted in her entire life. But she had also never been so happy. Charlie had been fed once more and had then fallen back asleep, curled up on her father’s chest. Colette herself could barely keep her eyes open.

And she should be sleeping, but she could only watch her daughter curled up against Max's chest.

"How did we manage to create something so perfect?" She asked him softly.

Max let out a tired little huff of laughter, not bothering to open his eyes. “She is perfect, isn’t she?” he murmured quietly.

Colette felt a smile tugging at her face. “Perfect and absolutely beautiful,” she agreed quietly, shifting a little to get a better look at the two of them. "So perfect it almost hurts to look at her."

Max smiled at her. "I...There is this thing you should know," he said hesitantly.

Something about his tone, the hesitance in his voice, made Colette pause. "What is it?" she asked curiously.

"I may have told the whole world about us? On Instagram?" he admitted with a grimace.

She could only snort at that. "I think your father made sure that that cat was out of the bag," she told him drily. "What did you say?"

"That we have been a couple for 15 years. That I couldn't be happier with you and our little family," he said simply. "I wanted everybody to hear our truth," Max said softly. "Not what other people write."

"There is a romantic inside you after all," Colette teased him softly.

"You aren't angry?" Max checked.

Colette sighed. "Not at you," she said simply. "I can't be angry at you. You just want people to know how happy we are together. We kept it quiet for years for me," Colette said, staring at her daughter. "Is it weird that it feels like she put everything into perspective?" she asked him, nodding towards Charlie. "I just...I don't care anymore,” she admitted.

Max stared at her, blue eyes wide, but Colette just shrugged. “I was terrified for so long what people were going to think about me once they knew about us...but now...I don't care. What does it matter?"

Max reached over and laced his fingers through hers. "It doesn't," he promised her. "I'll start screaming it from the rooftops tomorrow, if you'll let me."

A laugh escaped her before she could stop it. "I think the media already knows," she teased, squeezing his hand. "We can just put my Instagram on public and let them eat their heart out," she suggested. It wasn’t meant seriously. Not really. 

But the more she thought about it, she wondered if that was what it was going to take. Opening up the digital scrapbook of her life. Letting anybody have a peek at their relationship. Hoping that finally they would understand.

"We'd break the internet," Max retorted, grinning at her.

Colette laughed. "We really, really would. Reason enough  to do it?" she teased him.

"And give my PR team a heart attack? Absolutely,” Max returned immediately. “Tell me when.” 

"I love you," she told him seriously. "And I am ready to love you in public too."

She had done it from the shadows for 15 years after all.

He stared at her. "Are...Are you sure?"

"I am very, very sure, mon coeur," Colette told him softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "The only opinion that matters to me is yours - and my family's. I don't care what anyone else thinks," she added, glancing down at Charlie again, who slept blissfully on, cuddled against Max's chest.

"If people want to call me an attention whore or a gold digger, they are welcome to it," Colette said quietly. "I don't care. I'm happy and you're happy and our baby is happy. Let them write whatever they want."

***

"Marry me," Max blurted out.

His words came out of his mouth before he had even realised what he was saying. The room suddenly became very quiet, as if all the oxygen had suddenly been sucked out of it, and Max suddenly realised that he had just blurted out the question he had been meaning to ask for months, at a time that couldn’t be further from ideal.

Colette was staring at him, her eyebrows raised and a look of surprise on her face. She seemed frozen and totally caught off guard by his question. And he didn’t blame her for that. She was exhausted, and had just given birth, and here he was, bombarding her with questions as if this was the perfect moment to do it.

But then she smiled at him. 

"Yes," Colette said simply. "Always yes. You know that.”

Relief surged through him so strongly, Max thought he might just about collapse. She had said yes.

Granted she had said yes the last time as well. 

He remembered that day like it had been yesterday…remembered coming home that May evening in 2016…Fuelled with adrenaline from his first “proper” win. Remembered the trophy that still had a place of pride in their living room…the bottle of champagne, the Pirelli cap…and the ring that he had bought after that race. The celebratory crepes for breakfast the next day where still a tradition they kept with. 

Max felt like he could have exploded there and then, just from happiness. He couldn’t believe that he had just asked her, that she had just said yes. It didn’t feel real. It felt like something out of a dream.

"Yes?" he repeated incredulously, just to make sure he hadn’t actually dreamt it. "You’ll marry me?"

"Properly this time," she teased him, with the most beautiful smile on her face, as she leane up to press a kiss against his lips. “I’ll marry you, Maxie.”

He couldn’t stop himself from laughing, the sound breathless. It wasn’t just exhaustion that made him sound like that, it was disbelief, a sort of giddy lightness.

"Properly this time," he echoed back to her, his words soft. "You’ll marry me properly."

He couldn’t actually believe she was saying yes. "I do have a ring," he assured her. "It's at home. I hid it in the trophy."

Colette laughed. "Of course, you hid it in the trophy," she repeated, her voice warm and amused."Of course you did."

Max gave her what he hoped was at least a resemblance of a sheepish look. “Where else would it be safe?” he said defensively. "And I know you wouldn't look there," he added.

"A perfect place to hide something you don't want me to find," Colette agreed.

Max grinned at her. "Exactly," he said happily, gently brushing her hair from her face.

"Which trophy?" she asked him seriously.

"Spain 2016," he answered honestly. His first one. The one. 

"You hid it in the 2016 trophy?" Colette repeated, her smile widening into a grin. "Really?"

"Just felt appropriate,” he answered honestly. He still remembered handing it to Colette for the first time, the ring that he had bought clanging around in the bottom of it. 

"It is," she agreed softly, leaning up to press a kiss against his lips.

Max smiled against her mouth, his arms tightening around her, pulling her a little closer. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. He couldn’t believe he had just blurted out the one question he had been wanting to ask for ages, and she had actually just said yes.

"You’re really going to marry me," he mumbled against her mouth, unable to help the words. "You’re actually going to marry me."

"I had your baby, but this is what shocks you?" Colette asked him with a laugh. 

He laughed, pulling her closer again and nuzzling his face into her shoulder, her words causing him to blush faintly. “I love you,” he mumbled against her skin quietly.

"I love you too," she echoed back quietly. "And yes, I will marry you. As many times as you’ll ask."

"I am the luckiest man in the whole world," he said softly.

"No, I’m the luckiest," she told him gently, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close again. "To have you, and this, and Charlie, and all of it. It’s everything I ever wanted.”