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#door sussex
makenna-made-this · 3 months
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Girl why are you building a moat
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Harry & Meghan To Take Lead Of Archewell As Predident, Mandana Dayani, will not be replaced-December 4th 2022
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"The Duke and Duchess of Sussex are to assume full leadership of their Archewell Foundation, as the organization’s president, Mandana Dayani, is stepping down after 18 months.
Dayani was responsible for the day-to-day operations of the media and charitable group and has exited in what has been described as an amicable and planned transition.
"She will not be replaced as Archewell’s founders Prince Harry and Meghan Markle had long intended to assume full management of the enterprise."
Per a statement shared with Deadline, an Archewell spokesperson said Dayani was brought on while the couple was off for parental leave and that “she has continued to shape (Archewell’s) vision and future successfully.” (See the full statement below.)
Here’s the statement from Archewell: “Ms. Dayani has been an integral part of Archewell and we are grateful for her passion, commitment and leadership. Ms. Dayani was brought on during their parental leave to move the company and its projects forward. She has continued to shape its vision and future successfully. Her transition was mutually planned, with intent for The Duke and Duchess to now take full lead of their company. There will be no replacement for this position, and Ms. Dayani is fully supportive of The Duke and Duchess in their new leadership roles, and they remain friends.”
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mostlyanything19 · 1 year
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One fun fact about me is that I played the demo of The Beekeeper's Picnic by @beekeeperspicnic and it's brought me nearly to tears several times just out of pure like. sentimentality?? affection for these two men and this very specific little world they inhabit? my foolish heart that's been stuck on Sherlock Holmes for going on ten years now? idk man idk
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s38s73r · 2 months
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Doors in the street, Brighton, Sussex
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A message for Sir Elton John, ahead of his farewell from Dodger Stadium concert live on Disney+.
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aisphotostuff · 5 months
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Dovecote Door @ Nymans NT Sussex..
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Dovecote Door @ Nymans NT Sussex.. by Adam Swaine Via Flickr: Dovecote in Nymans Gardens in Handcross, West Sussex. The picturesque gardens surround an old abandoned house and overlook High Weald
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“What is a closed door romance? Like any fan community, romance has phrases and lingo that have developed over time for fans to talk to other fans. We have romancelandia (referring to the collective of romance readers and writers), HEA/HFN (happily ever after/ happy for now), and have mostly co-opted the use of tropes in both book marketing and slang. Closed door romance is the informative slang term used by romance readers and writers that I am breaking down today.“
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davecity · 10 months
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Industrial Home Bar A medium-sized urban l-shaped home bar with blue cabinets, solid-surface countertops, and white countertops is shown in the picture.
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chalkskyline · 1 year
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Summer colours in Brighton, U.K., July 2023
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cambergaragedoor · 2 years
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Here at Camber Garage Doors, we specialise in supplying and fitting a variety of high-quality automated garage doors in West Sussex and the surrounding areas. Our high-quality range of electric garage doors has been manufactured to include retractable, sectional, side-hinged and roller garage doors so you’re sure to find the right door for your needs.
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charleytakeabow · 2 years
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Industrial Home Bar
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hoe4sports · 1 month
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Musli
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Alessia Russo x Leah Williamson x child
A note from the author: Once again, another fic based off my life. This is a part of a potential series called “Found family”. Enjoy!
Warning: Fostercare, anxiety, long fic
Summary: You are moved into yet another foster home, and you spend your first 12 hours with Alessia and Leah. Oh, and their little companion.
-
You sit in the social worker’s car while she talks about your new home. She says that this home is a good home, but she said that too about the Johnson family and the Sussex family. You shrug your shoulders as a respons before gripping the ear of your plush cat tighter. The kitty is white, or he used to be white until your last foster father spilled his coffee all over him. You tried to rinse him in the sink, but your foster sister got upset with you. He is patchy brown now, and he smells of coffee. You don’t even like coffee. But he is the last piece of home you have left; your parents had no family. No grandparents and no siblings or cousins. Just you.
The houses are passing by your window, and you see the car moving from lower class areas to middle class areas to upper class areas and back to lower class areas. All your bad experiences are sadly linked with lower class families. The families where money is tight is statistically speaking where abuse is more likely to happen. The big raindrops rolls down the windows and you watch two raindrops to see who is faster. The answer is none of them; because a big truck splashes the window and vanishes the raindrops.
“The new family is excited to welcome you. They don’t have any kids, but they do have a friend for you”
“A friend? Like a chicken?”
You feel excited. You like chickens, they are friendly and they don’t bite.
“No silly, a kitty!”
Your eyes widen at the thought of living in the same house as a cat. You used to have a cat, back in your real home and the memory of him makes you miss him every day. You loved your cat. You love your plush cat. It sparks a tiny excitement in you, but then again you worry if you are allowed to touch the cat. Sometimes, foster kids aren’t allowed to touch certain toys, animals or even parts of the house. Tears forms in your eyes of the thought of him, and you clutch your hand tighter around the plastic bag of personal items that you own. It’s weird, you decide. You used to have puzzles that mommy would puzzle with you, and books that daddy would read to you. You used to have Barbie and dolls. And mommy would buy you so many dresses. You don’t have any dresses anymore. No puzzles. No books. No Barbie and no dolls. It’s only you, your teddy and a few pairs of pants and shirts. It used to make you feel sad, but you are just thankful for getting out of the last foster home.
The car suddenly comes to a stop in front of a big white house. It is a fancy house made out of wood and you can see what looks like handrails on the top of the house. There seems to be a garden, and there is a nice front porch with flowers on it. You blink as you look towards the door. It has a cat door. It resembles your real home. Where your mom planted flowers in the garden and your dad would cut the grass. It was only last summer, but it feels like a lifetime ago. The sudden onset of dejavu makes you smile. But then, you suddenly don’t want to leave the car. You don’t feel ready to disappoint yet another family. Perhaps, this family have more rules than draw others. There are always so many rules. Rules about what you are allowed to eat to what soaps you can use. So you let go of the plastic bag and clutch your fists to the seatbelt. The social worker opens up your door, and you shake your head. She tries to grab your hand, but you refuse. You really do not want to come out of the car.
She gives you a sad smile.
“Okay, how about you sit here and I’ll go get your new fosters?”
You shake your head rapidly and your little heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. You feel warm, and sweaty, and stressed, and scared.
“I cannot let you sit in the car forever, I’m really sorry. I’m gonna have to lift you out of the car now.”
You close your eyes while your hand unbuckles your belt. The last family made you buckle and unbuckle yourself, so you are no stranger to helping yourself. You unwillingly hop out of the car and hold your kitty tight to your chest. The plastic bag comes along, but it’s too heavy to carry so it ends up dragging behind you. The social worker would grab it, if you would’ve let her; you don’t trust anyone with your things anymore. One family threw away your favourite dress and another lost the last picture you had of your mom and dad.
You find yourself In front of the big front door when the social worker presses the doorbell. It’s late, close to bedtime and the rain is pouring down. You yawn. The door swings open after a few seconds and you get caught off guard. You drop your plastic bag and hide behind the social workers leg.
“Hi! Welcome, please, please come in!” A blonde woman says. You peek at her from behind the social workers leg while trying to decide what category to put her in. She has kind eyes, like your mommy and she is smiling. Your social worker steps forwards which leaves you stumbling a few steps forwards. The embarrassment shows up on your face, but before you say anything; you see the woman reaching for your plastic bag. You know the drill, so you quickly snatch it from the ground before slowly moving yourself to the inside of the home.
You scan the entrance. There is a white built in bench with shoes underneath. You see a coat rack and there is some decor. There is even curtains and blinds on the windows that faces the entrance. It smells like warm cookies and milk, like your mother would make when you were little. Then, you see the other woman. She looks stricter than the first woman. She’s not that smiley, but she dosent look mean. A piece of her hair hangs in front of her eye before she quickly brushes it to the back of her ear.
“Y/N, that is Leah and this is Alessia. Say hi to them, please.”
You can’t say a word. Like all the words and letters of the English alphabet have left your mind. You shake your head rapidly. All the bones in your body freezes and your tears starts pressing in your eyes. You don’t know what to say or how to say anything. You don’t wanna sound dumb, and you don’t wanna sound sassy. The social worker looks down at you and sighs.
“Thank you for taking her in at a short notice. Things weren’t exactly good, and I had to move her quickly. She’s a good kid.”
One of the women squats down to your height.
“Hi, I’m Alessia. Who is this?” she asks. She points to your kitty, but she dosent touch him. You clutch him to your chest, and a silent tear rolls down your cheek. You feel terrified, maybe you aren’t allowed to have him?
“Uh..His name is Meow” you mumble, barely giving her a second of eye contact. Even though you don’t look at her, she looks at you. She waits and she seems to be patient.
“Im happy that you and Meow came to stat with us. We are happy to have you stay here for a while”
You feel scared. A while. How long is a while? It’s one of those adult’s acronyms that you don’t understand. Maybe, if you are good; they will let you stay for more than a while. You decided that you need to be polite, and kind, and helpful. You offer Alessia eye contact, and she smiles warmly at you.
“Oh look, there is someone else excited to see you” Alessia says as their white cat appears. He has white and brown fur, and he has blue eyes. He looks exactly like your old cat. The cat that used to live with you and mommy and daddy. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, and the cat trots its way over to you.
You reach out your hand, like you mother taught you. He sniffs it before instantly bonking his head into your had. Then, her purrs loudly.
“His name is Musli, he is a ragdoll, and he is 4 years old: just like you.”
“Musli” you parrot quietly while looking at the cat. You decide that you like musli and for a second, you feel calm.
“Alright, Y/N, I have to go now. Be good, okay? I’ll be back in a few weeks.”
She pats your head.
“Thank you once again Mrs. Russo and Mrs. Williamson. Call me if any issues or concerns.”
And with that, you are left alone. You, your kitty and your plastic bag is left to yourself. Tears swell in your eyes, and Musli rapidly rubs himself on you. You look down at him, and a teardrop lands in his fur.
“Y/N?”
You look up and you gulp. Time to be good. You nod your head while wiping your eyes on your sleeves.
“We were about to go into the kitchen to have some cookies, do you like cookies?” Leah asks while looking at you.
You nod again as your stomach rumbles. The last time you had something to eat was this morning, when you had a few pieces of carrots.
“Let’s bring meow to the kitchen with us, so he can have a treat too”
Alessia winks, and it makes you smile shyly. You follow the two women to the kitchen; meow in your right hand and the plastic bag dragging behind from your left hand. The bag leaves a stream of water from underneath it, and it makes you feel embarrassed.
“This is where I sit, and this is where Leah sit.”
Alessia points to a table with four chairs. You nod while scanning the kitchen. It’s big, and white. It’s pretty, and there is a gigantic fridge with a tap in the door. You shove your bag next to the wall, careful to not leave it out for anyone to trip on. That way, nobody will get mad at you.
Leah drags out a chair, it’s pink and it has a little step, a little place for your feet and a seat. It’s a children’s chair and you feel confused. Did they have a kid that you don’t know about? It scares you, because that means that there will be a competition and normally, you lose them.
You stand there dumbfounded while Alessia gets the out the plates. Leah gets out the glasses. They are high up, in the cabinets over the kitchen sink. It makes you sad because that means that you can’t help out with the plates.
Soon, everything is set and you are still frozen in the middle of the room.
“Come here, Y/N” Leah says before patting the pink chair. You slowly walk over to her before looking at it.
“Whose chair is that?” You whisper.
“It’s yours, you can use it for however long you want” Alessia says while smiling at you.
You climb up carefully, and you place meow next to you. Alessia puts forward a little bowl of milk, which leaves you confused. Are you supposed to drink out of the bowl? You don’t mind, really, all you want to is to be good. Your hands grab the bowl and you lean forward to drink the milk.
“For meow” Alessia says, and it makes you feel embarrassed. Leah quickly fills up your glass while Alessia puts the bowl infront of your plate. She pats the table, and you put meow infront of it.
“See? He likes it” Alessia says which makes you smile. Then you eat your warm cookie quietly. Alessia tells you about her day, and Leah answers. You just nod along, busy eating your cookie. This feels nice, you think. They seem kind. But you worry that they will be extra mean once you make them angry for being disrespectful, bad or dumb.
After finishing the cookie and drinking the milk, Leah clears the table.
“Thank you Mrs. Russo and Mrs. Williamson” you mumble, scared to say their names wrong. The pair of them shares a sad look before looking towards you.
“Please love, Call us Alessia and Leah. We aren’t your mom or your dad, but we are here to take care of you”
You nod.
“Should we find the bedroom?”
You nod, again.
-
“This is the bed. I didn’t know what colors you like, so I grabbed what we had. We can go out tomorrow to get you a few things. Where is your bag?”
Alessia says. You lift your bag up, and Leah reaches for it.
“Can I help you put your clothes away in the dresser?”
You nod.
“Thank you, Mrs. Leah”
The pair of them frowns, and you don’t understand why. Then Leah takes your clothes out; one by one until they are all taken out. The clothes are all wet from being dragged on the ground, and the pair of them shares a sad smile.
“Im gonna have to wash your clothes, they are all wet and dirty. Is that okay? Then tomorrow, we will get some more clothes” Alessia says while looking at the small pile of clothes.
You nod, but feel confused. Who are we getting clothes for, you wonder. Perhaps they need you to help carry the bags home. You are either way grateful for getting to come along instead of being left home by yourself.
You let out a big yawn, and drop meow in the action. Alessia instantly picks him up and reach him towards you.
“I think that maybe mr.meow needs a bath? Do you want to grab your toothbrush, hairbrush and pj so you can both get ready for bed?”
You look at her in confusion. You don’t own a hairbrush or a toothbrush anymore. It makes you feel dirty and uncomfortable, so you look down at your socks.
“Mrs. Alessia.. I…uh.. I don’t have a toothbrush or a hairbrush” you stutter out. You don’t see it, but Alessia and Leah shares a heartbroken look.
“Okay little miss, you can call me just Alessia and her just Leah. Whatever you want to, ok?”
You nod.
“We will put down toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrushes, hair ties, hair bands and knot spray on the list for tomorrow. Do you have a pj?”
You shake your head.
“That’s fine, Leah will find something for you to wear. Let’s go to the bathroom to get mr.meow cleaned up”
You smile at Alessia while nodding.
“Okay” you mumble out just loud enough for Alessia to hear.
-
Mr.Meow sits in the bathroom sink in a bubble bath. His whiskers are pointing downwards because of the weight of the water. Musli sits next to your feet, and you find yourself feeling safer around him. Your mommy would always say that a cat knows a good person; so if you ever needed to know how to categorise someone; see if a cat likes them. The memory makes you smile. Alessia hands you a tiny brush and smiles.
“Do you want to give him a little scrub?”
You smile and nod rapidly. Then, you get to scrubbing. You scrub, and scrub and scrub. Then Alessia scrubs, and scrubs and scrubs. Everything from his tail to his ears and paws. Soon enough, meow is white again and he goes into the dryer for a few minutes until he is dried enough for you to cuddle him.
Leah steps into the room while you are hugging him tightly with Alessia sitting on the toilet lid.
“Here, I have a little cousin that is the same age as you. She said that you could have this!”
Leah pulls out a pink pj. It’s a set with flowers on the pants and a princess on the front of it. It makes you light up. You nod your head before crashing into Leah’s legs in excitement. Leah looks surprised for a few seconds until Alessia nudges her to have her put her hand on your head. It feels safe.
“Thank you, Leah”
-
After washing meow, brushing your hair with Alessia’s brush and putting on the new pj; Alessia and Leah put you to bed. Or, rather they followed you to your bed while you put yourself to sleep. They turned on the little nightlamp on the nightstand before they said their goodnights. You found yourself laying in bed listening to the sounds of the house, much like you did at the old foster homes. Always waiting for someone to be disappointed with you.
The bed is soft just like your bed back at home. Not your old temporary home, but your old real home. The home you were born into. Where you took your first steps. Where you learned to put the cereal in the bowl before the milk. Where you learned to say please and thank you.
The bedroom is big. It has been painted a calm pink color, and there is a bookshelf with a few books. A few of the books are books you recognise, like the pink glittery one with Pappa pink. There is some toys and what you seem to recognise as Lego. You are not sure if you are even allowed to use the toys, but you appreciate being able to look at them. You don’t really know who they belong to because you arrived so late that you couldn’t think of asking. Your hand presses down on the mattress you have found yourself laying down on. It’s soft, and it’s comforting in a weird way. It feels like what used to be home. Before mom and dad and you took the trip to the local beach. Before one drunk driver changed your life forever. Before your life become something that you couldn’t even recognise anymore,
But the bed isn’t like home. It’s probably the most comfortable bed you have ever had, you decide. Even nicer than the one you once had. The frame is white with butterflies. The pillows are fluffy and the duvet is warm. You like the print too, it is pink with little purple flowers. Even though your new foster parents have spent a ton of money and effort on making this bedroom feel cosy, you end up sleeping on the ground. Not directly on the ground, but on the big thick fluffy rug in the middle of the room. It’s pink too, so you decide that it is perfect to sleep on. This way, you won’t get too comfortable in Leah and Alessia’s home. If you get too comfortable, then it will hurt even worse when they decide to kick you out. That’s why your hands softly pull the duvet and one pillow down to the floor, before laying down on it and wrapping yourself in the duvet. It feels strangely safe to be in this bedroom, in your temporary house. The feeling is new, and you are not sure whenever to regress the feeling or embrace it. You close your eyes slowly, listening to the soft hum of your two new foster moms chatter soothingly downstairs. It leaves you feeling like you are in a state of bliss that allows all the cells in your body to, for once, relax completely. It feels like you are floating, like you are at peace. Meow is in your hand, and musli comes to lay down next to you. He purrs, sending vibrations through your heart making it feel calm. Soon enough, you see your mom and you feel yourself drifting away.
-
The next morning, you wake up terrified. Did you oversleep? Why don’t your foster moms wake you up? You feel anxious. Perhaps you were supposed to wake yourself up? Irresponsible. That would already be one shot. You only get three. That’s what the other fosterfamily told you. Three shots and you are out.
You are only four, so it isn’t expected of you to wake yourself up. But you don’t know that. You drag yourself out of bed, and then it hits you: oh god. You fell asleep on the ground, but you woke up in the bed. Was it wrong of you to sleep on the floor? Did Leah or Alessia put you in bed? Maybe they are upset with you? It scares you to the point where you feel yourself shiver like a chihuahua.
You stumble out of bed before making a silenced run to the door. You shuffle down the hallway until you see the staircase and you peek out from behind the handrails. It smells like coffee, and pancakes. You find a place to sit in the staircase where you can look into the kitchen, but still be partially hidden by the shadows of the dark hallway.
Leah and Alessia is in the kitchen. Leah is reading something from her phone out loud and Alessia is listening while making pancakes. You can see orange juice on the table as well as jam, cheese and milk. Leah has a cup of coffee with milk in it. It’s light brown, and you recognise it because your old foster mother would tell you to put milk in her coffee for her.
You can feel the hunger growing in your gut, and you hold meow close to you while closing your eyes hoping that it will disappear. Then, Musli hopes downstairs. He sniffs your arm before meowing at you. You quietly try to shush him, but it doesn’t help.
“Y/N? There is breakfast for you in here love”
Leah says while smiling at you from the kitchen. You look back at her with wide eyes. Musli is still rubbing himself on your shoulder, and you force yourself to stand up. You quickly go to the kitchen, not wanting your new moms to wait. Waiting isn’t a good thing, especially when they are waiting on you. It can cause them to be upset with you. You don’t want that.
You hop up on the chair you sat in last night, and your eyes widen when Alessia places a pink princess plate infront of you with a few pancakes on. Are all of these for you? You feel confused. She hands you a fork, not an adult fork. A tiny fork with a bunny engraved into it.
Alessia sits down, and you look at her. She is now eating, and you look over at Leah who is pouring herself juice. You feel conflicted; if you ask if it is for you then they might take it away because you seem ungrateful. But if you don’t ask, then they can get upset with you for eating everyone’s breakfast.
“Uh, Alessia? Can I eat this?”
“Huh? Are you allergic?”
“What’s allergic?”
They both share a sad look, but to you; it looks like disappointment.
“It’s for you baby, just eat however much you want”
You look at Alessia and Leah. Sceptical, yet grateful. You nod before you start eating. Then you realise that you might need to eat everything; because you don’t know if you are gonna get another meal today. It feels strange to sit here with two adults eating pancakes. Musli is sleeping by your chair. It almost feels like a dream. Like something that is taken out of a movie. But it’s a movie that you don’t want to end. That’s the thing about movies; they always have an end.
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s38s73r · 2 years
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Hidden away, Clifton Terrace, Brighton, Sussex
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aisphotostuff · 5 months
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Walled Garden @ Nymans NT Sussex by Adam Swaine Via Flickr: The Wall Garden From planting out in early May, until the first frosts of autumn, the display in the wall garden is a feast for all the senses. The garden is well known for its vibrant, flamboyant mixture of flowers and has an outstanding display of bulbs in the springtime, as well as annuals, trees and shrubs throughout the summer filling every nook and cranny.
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fangirl-dot-com · 7 months
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Across Every Universe - Part 2
Well, I didn't expect this work to get this long. It was only supposed to be short but then I worked on it all day and for multiple hours on end?? I guess I just enjoy this concept so much! These are basically the stories I wanted to put in last time, but they needed their own chapter to truly shine.
I know people asked for Arthur and reader romance, but To Do Is To Dare has always been a racing fic first and romance second. I tried to add in all the people I could without going crazy with the plot line or it would have gotten out of hand (or more than it already is). There is a lot of Max and Charles (my two favorite boys on the grid).
If anyone has anything against Lestappen - there's the door :)
Please enjoy :)
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“Please stand for his Majesty King Max Emilian Verstappen, King of the Netherlands and Prince of Orange.” 
Max always hated these announcements. Like, why did they have to always say his middle name and all the titles that came with it? He put on a gentle smile and waved to the crowds around him. Thankfully, his dressers had decided to forgo the kingly robes and opted for a nice suit with his pins. Definitely fitting for the Dutch Grand Prix. 
This would be his ninth to attend since taking the throne at 18-years-old after his father passed away. The kind always enjoyed seeing the Orange Army at the home race. 
After greeting everyone, he was led to the special box. Apparently, more than one royal had decided to attend as well. Max’s shoulders loosened when his eyes landed on a familiar figure. 
“Charles!”
Charles Marc Herve Perceval Leclerc, The Sovereign Prince of the Principality of Monaco. Max was always glad that his mother only chose one middle name for him instead of three. 
The prince’s green eyes widened at the sight of the Dutchman. He waved off whoever he was speaking to and all but glided across the room. The two forwent the formalities and brought each other into a hug. 
Max leaned back a bit to look the Monegasque in the eye. 
“What are you doing here? Monaco not enough for you?” 
There was a playful glint in his eyes as Charles rolled his. The brunet gestured to a plush couch in the corner, one that Max was excited to sit in. 
Charles began to speak, a small smile on his face, “Well as you know, my brother is currently dating one of the drivers on the grid. And it is her home race so Arthur wanted to come watch.” 
Max nodded, understanding perfectly. He knew exactly who Charles was talking about.
Y/n L/n, the only female driver, who currently was working on her fourth World Champion.
“And where is your brother now?” 
“He’s in the garage,” Charles rolled his eyes. He had wanted to go, but an ambassador had insisted that he needed to talk to the prince. 
“Why don’t we head there. I always want to say hello to my race winner.” 
Now, Max and Y/n had a very loving sibling relationship. The king had watched her grow up karting and made sure to sponsor her and support her through her career. Without his support, the girl would not have been able to continue. Yet, when you put the royal Dutch crest on your Formula 3 car, someone has to know that it means something. 
This would be her 4th season in Red Bull, having been 19 when she joined in 2019. She was only 20 when she won her first World Championship, breaking the record for the youngest ever to dominate the sport. 
Now she was 24 and is on a path to win her fourth in only five races if she keeps up the winning streak. Max was only older by 3 years, yet he watched over her like a very protective older brother. 
He and Charles had made their way down to the pitlane, much to their advisors’ chagrin. They passed by the Mercedes garage to say hello to King Lewis Hamilton III and then George Russell, Duke of Sussex. The two Brits had been friends or well, colleagues, with the other two reigning monarchs for quite some time. They were currently backing Kimi Antonelli and Mick Schumacher, the current driver line up for Mercedes.
Right next to the silver garage stood a very orange and bright one. Max was excited to see Lando Norris, Duke of York also in attendance. He was very close with the two Aussie drivers, Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. 
Down the line was Williams, who was attending to a very eager Logan Sargeant, the President of the United States’ kid. Max was fond of the blond and often said hello to him whenever he got the chance in diplomatic settings. 
But finally, they were able to reach the big navy garage. Max could definitely pick up Arthur’s almost French accent everywhere. But, his ears were tuned to the sound of your Dutch accent that was similar to his. 
“Geitje!” he called out, finding your blond hair against the navy racing suit. 
You looked over your shoulder, pausing the conversation with your boyfriend. You rolled your eyes when you saw Max in his kingly splendor. You took a few steps toward the fellow Dutch and gave him a hug. 
“I told you to quit calling me that. I’m not a kid anymore, or was never a goat for that matter.” 
Charles took this moment to catch up with his brother. 
Max looked down at you fondly. “You’ll always be that small kid whose suit was two sizes too big on her.” 
You honestly wanted to cry, but you kept the tears in. There was a race that you needed to win. 
“Are you going to give me my trophy this year?” 
“Don’t I every year?” 
You looked up in mock thought. “Well, there was that one year that you had appendicitis and your mom gave me my trophy.” 
Max lightly nudged you. “That was one year, let it go.” 
You grumbled. “Well I hope that someone won’t break my trophy this year.” 
Your teammate, Ollie Bearman, popped his head up from where he was looking at his tyres. 
“It was one year Y/n! One year!” 
You giggled at the disgruntled yells from the British Driver. Ollie had been one of your favorite teammates. 
Your first year, you were paired with the golden boy himself, Sebastian Vettel, before he retired with one last championship. And then your first year as world champion, you were paired with Oscar Piastri before he left for McLaren. Ollie had been your teammate for the past two years, but you had a feeling that he’d stick around for more than a year. 
You got the heads up that the race would be starting soon. You turned back to Max. 
“Are you staying here or do you have to go?” 
Max had a mischievous glint in his eyes and was about to reply before being interrupted. 
“Actually, their royal highnesses need to return to the royal box.” 
Max fought the urge to roll his eyes. You only laughed and pushed him in the direction of the exit. 
“Go, I’ll see you at the top.” 
“Blijf veilig, alsjeblieft,” Max softly pleaded. 
He really hated that you put your life on the line every weekend for the job that you loved. He remembers the first time you had a terrifying crash when you were unconscious until they got you to the hospital. He was told that you probably wouldn’t wake up. However, you defied the odds and were back in the seat for the next race. 
You responded, just as gentle, “Voor jou, mijn koning, altijd.” 
When Max left, he turned around one last time and witnessed you giving Arthur a quick kiss before he put your helmet on. It was something that the two of you had been doing since you started dating almost two years ago. 
The Dutch king was back to walking with Charles to the box. 
“So, when is he proposing.” 
He hadn’t expected an answer, but was surprised when he got one. 
Charles gave Max a look. “They’re actually going to a restaurant, and he plans to propose tonight.” 
Max’s eyes widened at the confession. But, he got over it quickly before gently smiling. You deserved happiness, and you found that in his closest friend’s brother. 
“So will she have to stop racing for royal duties?” the blond questioned. 
Charles shook his head. “Non. Arthur will step down.” 
Max clapped him on the back. “Guess you and Alexandra need to start with some heirs huh?” 
Charles squinted up at him. “Says the man who currently needs to propose as well.” 
The prince got the last laugh as he left Max stuttering for a comeback. 
You won the race like Max knew you would. The king watched as you held your head up high as the Dutch National Anthem played loudly through the crowds. He saw the crowds of orange, the only ones rivaling the red Tifosi at Monza. 
The crowds were shouting, “De Langverwachte! Onze kleine leeuw!” 
The Long Awaited. 
Their Little Lion. 
Max had always wished for a champion from his home country. Something to ode back to the sport he loved as a kid. His wish came true in the form of you. People talked as the king publicly backed the only female driver on the grid. But he knew that you were something special. He was there as you took the championship from Vettel in the last lap of the 2020 season fair and square. Obviously he was thankful that there was no safety car to ruin your race of any kind. You had coped brilliantly against your older teammate and your talent truly showed.
Max was given the signal to head out with the hand painted trophy. He was honestly kind of scared to drop it. But he made it across the stage and handed it out to you.
You proudly took the trophy from Max after you bowed in respect. He may have been your friend, but he was your king first. 
The ceramic trophy was held high once it was safely in your hands. Jokingly you hugged it tight as you gently stepped down off the podium. Ollie gawked at your childishness before spraying you with the champagne. 
With trophy set down a nice ways away, you took your own bottle. Except, instead of spraying Ollie, you pointed it at Max, whose jaw was on the floor as you came after him with the liquid. 
If you were having fun now, you wouldn’t expect what was coming later that night. 
And you said yes. 
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“Zusje!”
Your eyes widened at the familiar squeaky and young voice. You turned your whole body away from your race engineer to only be taken down in the knees. Once you were on the floor, you laps was immediately filled with a small body that had bleach blond hair and bright blue eyes. 
“Maxy, Ik heb je gemist Kleintje!” 
“Uh Y/n, is everything good?” Charles’s voice sounded from above. You stared back at your teammate in the red overalls. You grabbed under the child’s arms and hoisted him up along with yourself. 
“Yep! Charles meet Max. Max meet Charlie.” 
Max’s small eyes widened before he tucked himself in your neck. Your hand came up and rubbed his back as you cooed. You turned back to Charles. 
“He’s a bit shy in front of his favorite driver.” 
You poked Max’s side and his giggles filled the room. The small one turned his head and peered at the Monegasque whose eyes were wide, looking at the child in his teammate’s arms. 
“Didn’t know you had a kid.” 
Your jaw dropped at his statement. 
“He’s not my kid, idiot. He’s my brother,” you hissed, lightly bouncing Max up and down as you swayed side to side. 
“Oooohhhh.”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah oh. I’m younger than you.” 
“One night stand?” 
“Charles!”
The brunet laughed loudly, making Max giggle a bit with him. You looked down into his blue eyes. 
“Oh so you think that’s funny hm? I’m getting bullied.” 
Max only giggled more before pointing at Charles. 
“Rari?” 
You lovingly stared at him in your arms. “Yep, Rari.” You saw how Charles was staring at Max. “You want to hold him?” 
Charles dropped everything (only his water bottle) and reached out to take Max. Once he was in Charles’s arms, Max immediately rested his head on his shoulder and gripped the red suit. You smiled fondly at the two. 
“He’s so small,” Charles whispered after seeing the kid’s eyes close in slumber. 
You ruffled the spiky blond hair. “Yeah, he’s only 3 though. Full of wonder.” 
“Y/n!” 
Ah, there was your mother. You looked over and saw Sophie walking with your other sister Victoria. Thankfully, your dad was nowhere to be found. After you found out what he had done to Max, you put in a restraining order against him immediately. 
It was a hard discussion with your mom when you told her that she needed to divorce him. Tears were shed and hearts were broken. But, you never wanted to see another bruise on your younger brother again. 
It was fine if he did that to you. But to Max? 
Jos wouldn’t stand a chance against your anger. He had shaped you to be like him. 
A racer. A winner. The best. 
But being the best wasn’t supposed to be the most important anymore. And if he wanted you to be like him, then he’ll get his own anger thrown back into his face. You remembered how your fist met his eye after you found Max alone with him one night. An ugly purple thing covered Max’s tiny wrist and there was a scratch on his face. 
You had just returned home from a triple header and wanted to surprise your family. Only, you came home to Max’s screams of terror and Jos Verstappen yelling. You didn’t think, you just did. Sophie and Victoria returned home to multiple police cars and an ambulance in front of the house. When they finally were told what happened, they found you covering Max’s body with your arms as you spoke to one of the paramedics. A blanket was draped around your shoulders and a bruise was forming on your face as well. 
After that, you moved your entire family to Monaco with you. Your house was plenty bit and you only shared it with Charles whenever he came over to play FIFA. But now, whenever he wanted to play, you insisted on going to his house. 
It might have been to protect your family. Or it might have had to do with a certain handsome brother that Charles had. 
Definitely the first one.   
Hence why Charles had never met Max beforehand. But that also didn’t stop the little gremlin from choosing Charles as his favorite driver and not his sister. 
It’s not like you were bitter or anything. 
You walked toward your family and gave the two women a hug. 
“I’m glad that you could come today!” you told them, truly happy at their arrival. It wasn’t like it was a big race. You had already won the championship last week, which sadly they weren’t able to make it. But Max was still up past his bedtime when you got home after. The kid sleepily muttered that he was glad you won, even though you had beaten Charles. Yet, you reminded him that Charles had won the year before and it was sissy’s turn. 
Sophie looked at Max in Charles’s arms. “He’s so comfortable. I honestly thought he’d be scared of men after what happened.” 
Victoria nodded in agreement. 
You crossed your arms. “I think that Max knows that dad wasn’t a good man. And well, he still loves Lando though.” 
“Is that Max?” 
Speaking of. 
Max’s head jerked up from Charles’s shoulder at the familiar voice. His little head swerved in the direction of the papaya clad driver. 
“Lanno!” 
Max started to squirm in the captive arms. Charles quickly set him down, not wanting him to fall. Max immediately ran to the Briton, who picked him up with ease. At the sight of the two, Charles pouted. 
You knocked him with your shoulder. “Don’t’ worry, you’re still his favorite. He bought Max a toy McLaren for his birthday and Max demanded that I paint it red and add a 16 on the side.” 
Charles seemed to gleam with pride at the confession. 
“Don’t tell Lando though. He’d be devastated.” 
What Lando didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 
“Hey little man. You ready to watch the race?” 
Max’s head bobbed quickly. 
“Are you going to watch Lanno win?” 
At that, Max shook his head making Lando’s eyes widened. 
“Little Verstappen I am hurt.” Lando clutched his hand to his heart in mock hurt. Max only stared at him while the McLaren driver put on a bit of a show. 
Charles piped up from beside you. “Max, is Charlie going to win?” 
Max, once again, shook his head. Now that made you confused, because Max always cheered for Charles. You cocked your head as you looked at your brother. 
“Then who Maxy?” 
The boy shyly pointed at you before muttering, “Zusje gaat jullie allemaal verslaan.” 
Not that made you laugh out loud, causing even more confusion to the two male drivers. You covered your mouth as you continued to laugh. Sophie and Victoria laughing as well. 
You smirked at your rival and teammate. 
“He said I’m going to kick your asses.” 
Max gasped as he heard your words. 
“Bad words!” 
Max pouted as he was put down by Lando. His little legs ran to you and his arms stretched out wanting you to pick him up. You squatted and scooped him up. Your arms tightened around him as he tried his best to hug you. 
“Sorry for the bad words kid.” 
“’S ok,” he slurred, getting even more tired. It was definitely his nap time. And it was time to get in your car. You handed him back to Sophie, who gave you a kiss on your head as you stooped. You gave a quick hug to Victoria before going back to kiss Max’s head. 
“I’ll win for you ok?” 
Obviously, he couldn’t hear you, but you would say it anyway. You turned away from your family to get ready. 
“Going soft on me L/n?” Lando quipped, making his way out of your garage. 
You discreetly flipped him off, to which he laughed at as he left. It took about 30 minutes to get in the car and get everything ready. You swerved your head, making sure the helmet was tight. Your eyes flitted about the garage and caught sight of your family again. Max was now wide awake and waving at you. 
Your gloved hand reached out and displayed your fingers wide. The little boy reached over in his mom’s arms and clapped your hand with his small one. You were given the signal that it was time and drove off once Sophie was out of the way. 
Her and Max watched as you rounded the corner in your red Ferrari, out of sight. 
Sophie leaned down and kissed her youngest’s head.
“Mijn baby, zal zus winnen?” 
Max’s small voice was just loud enough for her to hear. 
“Ja mama, sij is kampioen.” 
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(btw - I made the max pic because no one has good edits of him in a ferrari suit)
“Scuderia Ferrari Signs Y/n L/n for the 2024 Season”
“Ferrari Mistake? The Formula 1 Team Signs the Youngest Driver to Date” 
“Ferrari Becomes the First Formula 1 Team to Sign Female Driver” 
“Former F1 Champion Lorenzo Alessandrino Backs Goddaughter as Her Race Engineer” 
“How Will Verstappen React to His Younger Teammate on the Track?” 
You hadn’t known what to expect when you arrived at the paddock first thing on Saturday morning. You had convinced Lorenzo to bring you early so you could at least avoid some of the crowds, if not all. However, it seemed like everyone else liked that plan as well, and the paddock was full. 
You hung back near Enzo as the two of you walked side by side. Your hands gripped your backpack straps hard, turning your knuckles almost stark white. Thankfully, your sunglasses kept your wide and scared eyes from the public. It wasn’t that you were scared of people. It’s what you thought that they thought about you that made you nervous. 
Just 17 and baby faced. 
Something that wasn’t heard of in 2024. Yet, with older drivers retiring back and forth, the FIA had to make new changes to deal with the need of rookie drivers. Hence why Lorenzo pushed to have Ferrari sign you as early as possible. You basically went from karting, to Formula 2 and didn’t even start your second season. 
It came as a shock when Lewis Hamilton finally retired after only one year at Ferrari. You had thought that he’d want to get one more championship to make it to 9. But, life throws curveballs and it was headed straight to you. 
Now you had to face your new teammate, a champion himself, Max Verstappen. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed that he was talking to Charles Leclerc and Fernando Alonso. The two black Mercedes polos stood out in contrast to Max’s red one. You took a quick glance at the two drivers and realized that they were already watching you. 
Your cheeks heated up as you quickened your steps to get to the garage faster. Once you were in the safety of the garage, you let out a deep sigh. 
Lorenzo looked at you with a sad smile. He knew you were going to be overwhelmed for the entire day. He took his backpack off and reached down in, fingers feeling for your headphones. He took them out and handed them to you. 
You immediately put them on, connected them to your phone, turned on the music, and got to work on your racing journal. You wanted to go over your notes before the race. While you were distracted, Enzo took a little walk, trying to find some coffee. 
He ended up walking past the group of three drivers and smiled at Charles. The Italian knew of him growing up and was excited to see him in a team that gave him a good championship winning car. 
He nodded his head toward your new teammate. “Max.” 
Max’s eyes lightened at the familiar face. “Enzo!” 
The two bro-hugged before parting, letting Enzo greet the two Merc drivers. When he was done, Max had a teasing attitude. 
“Can’t convince you to stay as my engineer? Don’t get me wrong, I love GP, but you knew me better.” 
Enzo smiled and shook his head. “No can do. Gotta take care of my kid.” 
Fernando entered the conversation. “Where is she? We saw her walking but then she disappeared.” 
The older man scratched his head. “Yeah, she tends to do that. She’s a bit nervous.” 
Charles scoffed. “I’ll say. They shouldn’t have said anything until Wednesday. Sky Sports announced it way too early.” 
The Monegasque had something similar happen to him when he first joined Mercedes. It had all been planned that he would take Valtteri Bottas’s seat mid-season. Yet, Sky Sports announced it before Mercedes had a chance to even say that Bottas had wanted to retire early due to an illness. The media had made Charles into a seat-stealing villain his first season. 
The engineer nodded sadly. “I think she’s also nervous about the team.” 
Max looked at him with a shocked expression. “The team?” 
Enzo waved his hands. “She has full confidence. Y/n’s a bit nervous about trying to be on your level Max.” 
Well, that didn’t settle well with the Dutchman. Great, he was excited to have such a young teammate: someone who he could get along with and help them grow in the sport. But now, you were afraid of him? 
“She’s not scared of you Max, just nervous.” 
Oh. He said that out loud. 
Max glanced back at the garage. “Can I go talk to her.” 
Enzo nodded before handing him a pen. “I forgot to give this to her, she’ll be looking for it. You don’t mind giving it to her right?” 
“Not at all,” he responded, thankful for something that could break the ice between the two of you. 
Max grasped the pen and made his way to the overly bright red garage. He really wished Ferrari would take a page out of Mercedes’s book and make everything black. But no, they had to show off the corsa rosso red. 
You were too busy writing some notes down, with the wrong pen, to notice Max’s shoes now in your line of sight. The Dutchman lightly nudged your own shoe, which had your head jerking up to look at him. 
Your eyes widened and your hands reached to pull your headphones off. 
Max only smiled down at you. He thought that you looked like a scared mouse. He wondered if you were quiet like one as well. 
“Mind if I sit?” he asked. 
You could only shake your head no and scoot over as Max sat down on the concrete near you. The two of you sat in silence as you continued to scribble. Max suddenly remembered the pen in his hand. 
“Here. Enzo wanted me to give this to you.” 
Your fingers lightly touched his as you grabbed it from him. 
To Max, you also reminded him of his sister at this age. Shy, meek, quiet. But he had seen your videos and your impressiveness on the track. Your overtakes were nothing to be overlooked. He heard you sigh as the pen now nicely glided over the pages. 
The Dutchman let his eyes wander over the pages. He noticed that you were even taking notes on him as well.
You didn’t look at him, but you spoke, “If you break a bit later on turn 4, you can cut off another tenth.” 
Your voice gave Max whiplash as he wasn’t expecting you to talk to him without being prompted. His mind ran as he tried to remember turn 4. When he did the calculations he was surprised to find that you were correct. 
“How did you..” 
“I watched your onboards from last season. You’re very, what’s the word,” you gave him a smirk, “predictable.” 
Max’s jaw dropped, which caused you to laugh a bit. Max, although shocked, was glad that you were coming out of your shell a bit. 
He leaned over to whisper, “Are you overwhelmed with the red as much as I am.” 
You smiled as you whispered back, “It is positively draining. Why can’t they do black like Mercedes?” 
Max threw his hands up. “That’s what I’ve been saying.” 
You pretended to think. “What if we gang up on them. They can’t resist both drivers.” 
Max put on a weird accent, making his voice higher. “It’s either change the garage and everything to black or we walk.” 
That made you snort which caused Max to wheeze. 
Enzo was just on his way back with two coffees (both for him) when he heard the sound of you laughs mixed with Max’s. He smiled fondly at the two drivers. He took a sip before putting on his bright red headphones that he needed for qualifying. He coughed a bit, but it was soon over. Nothing like the sickness that he barely beat back in 2019. He was thankful that he got to continue to watch you grow. 
Max asked, “How far do you think you’ll get in qualifying?” 
You thought for a moment. “Uh, I hope to make it to Q2 if possible.”
The Dutchman lifted his hand to ruffle your hair. Your hands swatted at him as you pouted. 
“I think you can get farther.” 
You only shrugged. “We’ll see.” 
The car was definitely your safe space. You felt as though you could finally breathe easier. 
“Radio check please.” 
“Loud and clear Enzo.” 
“Ok, let’s get this bread.” 
You shook your head as you sat in the car. “Please never say that again.” 
Much to your and the team’s delight, you made it past Q1 and Q2. And you ended Q3 in the second row in P3. Max had just missed pole by mere hundredths. Charles Leclerc always had scarily good one lappers in the third session. 
Max gave you a giant hug at the end of the session, very glad at your positioning. 
As he had his arms around you, he thought to himself. 
“Yeah. You were going to be great.” 
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The big letters stood out to Max as his eyes began to water. 
“Not Applicable for Adoption at this Time” was all the top said. He hadn’t bothered to read the rest. He knew what it was going to say. It’s what every letter said for the past few months. 
They weren’t approved. 
They traveled too much. 
There weren’t any in their preferred age group that were adoptable right now. 
They wouldn’t be able to take care of a baby. 
They were…Max didn’t even want to mention the word. 
He glanced at the gold band that adorned his ring finger on his left hand. The sight made his eyes water more. The paper was quickly crumpled and thrown to the side. The Dutchman leaned forward and put his hands over his face and just sobbed. 
They had been trying for so long. The conversation had started two years ago as they lied in bed one night. They were nearing the ends of their careers, but they hadn’t wanted to wait until they were retired. They were sure in their marriage enough to where they both could handle a baby in their lives. 
A mini them running around, playing with Jimmy and Sassy. The thought was too much to bear right now though. 
The door clicked but Max hadn’t heard, he just continued to sob. 
“Amore, I’m back from the shop. They had the pastries that you really liked. Amore?”
Max started sobbing harder. Before he heard knew it, strong arms wrapped around his shoulders. He heard a big sigh as a head rested against his back. 
“Another one?” 
Max didn’t even reply, but his sobs had subsided into quiet sniffles. Charles glanced over at the crumpled paper that had been tossed to the side. He’s told Max time and time again to wait until he gets home to read them, but the older was always a bit too excited or anxious to wait. He bit his tough, not wanting to say anything that could upset the Dutchman even more. 
“It will be all right.” 
“Will it?” Max bit back, full of sadness and anger. But, it wasn’t anger at Charles. He was angry at the world. 
“It will,” Charles hummed. However, the Monegasque was also getting run down by all the rejection letters. He didn’t know how much more he could take. But, he wanted to be strong for Max. For himself. For their hopeful future child. 
“Every time Charlie. Every time, it’s always a different excuse.” 
“Our time will come.” 
“But what if it doesn’t? We aren’t getting any younger Charles.” 
The Monegasque harshly inhaled. He stopped rubbing Max’s back. Although, he really didn’t know when he started. 
He went to say something, yet his phone rang loudly, breaking the silence of the room. Charles muttered something about wanting to hang up, but his breath hitched at the sight of the name at the top of his phone. His thumb had never pressed the answer button. 
He quickly put the call on speaker. 
“Bonjour?”
“Ah, Mr. Verstappen?”  
“This is he.” 
“Is your husband here with you?” 
Max perked up at the question. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was now paying attention. He scooted even closer to Charles, face almost in the phone. 
Charles chuckled at Max’s closeness. 
“Oui, he is here.” 
“Ok, so we just got a call from the Princess Grace Hospital. We think you want to come here for this.” 
Max gulped before whispering. “It is what we think it is?” 
Charles held his breath as he and Max waited for the answer. 
“Why don’t you come find out.”
The two of them could hear the playfulness as the their adoption agent hung up the phone. They looked into each other’s eyes before they dashed around, getting their shoes on. Max almost tripped as he hopped on one foot, his shoe getting caught on his finger. Charles chuckled as he bent to tie his own shoe. 
Max was halfway out the door, still waiting. 
“Come on Charlie.”
“Mon amore, are you forgetting something?” 
Max patted his pockets and realized he forgot the key that were now dangling on Charles’s finger. 
“Oh.” 
Charles rolled his eyes as he walked toward the door, grabbing Max’s waste as he walked. The Dutchman quickly followed him to the Monegasque’s Ferrari Purosangue. He bought the SUV when he and Max put in their first adoption profile. 
Max huffed as he noticed that Charles was going below the speed limit. 
“Baby, can you maybe, hurry up?” 
Charles only hummed as a reply. He did step on the gas a bit, but the Monaco speeds were slow as it. It wasn’t their fault that they drove ridiculously fast cars and his husband was currently high strung. 
Charles put his hand on Max’s thigh and started to rub small circles, which in the long run did help Max calm down a bit. 
The Dutchman had calmed down some by the time they parked in front. Charles started to get out of the car, but Max’s hand grabbed his arm before he got far. Charles recognized the look of fear on his husband’s face. His pointer finger found the golden band on Max’s finger and started to rub it. 
“What if- What if- What if it happens again.” 
Charles’s eyes drooped a bit at the sadness in Max’s voice. 
“But what if it doesn’t?” 
A glimmer of hope came back to Max’s eyes as he places a chaste kiss on Charles’s lips. 
“Let’s go.”
With an unbuckle of his seatbelt, Max was out the door. Charles had to catch up to Max’s larger steps. His hand soon found Max’s as they walked in. He squeezed three times, and got three in return. 
Charles look the lead as they approached the front desk. The lady at the computer had a nice attitude as she gave them a smile when she looked up from her screen. 
“May I help you gentlemen?” 
“Ah, yes, my husband and I got a call from our adoption agent, Mitch Walker.” 
The lady’s eyebrows raised as she started to type on her computer once again. Max bounced in his place, willing the lady to type faster. 
“Ah, floor three, room 89.” 
“Thank you,” Charles stated, already watching Max walk toward the elevator. He chuckled as he slowly followed, knowing the elevator would arrive when he got there. Inside the contraption, Max read the list of floors. 
His finger traced them until he got to the third floor. 
“Charlie.”
Charles looked where his finger had landed. 
Delivery floor.
Before Charles could react, the elevator doors opened. They both bolted into the hallway. 
86. 
87. 
88. 
89. 
They both paused in front. 
“Ready?” 
“Ready.” 
Charles grabbed the nob and slowly twisted. The room was a bit dim and Mitch was standing in the middle of the room. She turned at the sound of the door and a smile made a way on her face. 
“Hi guys,” she whispered. She stepped closer and pulled a curtain that cut the room in half. 
“Hi,” Charles replied, also whispering. 
Mitch put her hands together. “So, we have a little someone who was given up today. If everything goes well, you two might be going home with a baby today.” 
Tears welled up in Max’s eyes at her words. He choked down a sob and bit his knuckle.
“I just need you two to wash your hands and then you can meet her.” 
Charles whispered, “Her?” 
Mitch only nodded. 
This time, Charles was the one to let out a small sob. They gingerly walked over to the sink, hands bumping into each other as they rinsed under the water. Once dry, Mitch dragged the curtain back over. 
In the middle of the smaller section near a couch, lied a bassinet. With bated breath, Charles and Max peered over. Tears now welling in both their eyes. Max’s finger gently moved towards the baby’s face. 
He lightly grazed the soft cheek, causing the baby to squirm. Max had never jerked his hand away from something faster. Charles let out a small and quiet laugh. The baby’s hand was open, inviting Charles to put his finger in the tiny palm. 
The baby suddenly curled her fingers around the one finger, eyes suddenly opening. The Dutchman wanted to cry once again. Her green eyes peered up at him. Max’s eyes caught a tuft of hair and he gently pulled back the tiny hat. Blond hair appeared in a small bit. He gently pulled the hat back into place. 
His blond hair. 
Charles’s green eyes. 
Charles turned to Mitch. 
“Can I hold her.” 
A single nod had Charles scooping the baby in his arms, and he placed her on his chest. His body leaned back just a bit to accommodate her. Max immediately took his phone out and took a picture. He was definitely going to use that as his lock screen picture from now on. 
Max watched as Charles sat on the small couch in the corner. Max followed suit and sat next to him. 
The baby was looking right at him. 
“Hello little one,” he whispered, finding the courage to graze her face once again. A small smile appeared on the girl’s face, but it was short lived. But, Max had seen it and he was happy that it was directed at him. 
“-ax, Amore.”
His eyes shot up to Charles’s face. 
“Yes?” 
The brunet rolled his eyes. “I asked: Do you want to hold her?” 
Max could only nod. Charles gently handed her over to his husband and watched as his big hands cradled the baby. One hand was gently placed on her bum and the other on her head. He cooed at the man and baby, seeing tears stream down his face. 
Mitch quietly approached the couple. “So, it seems like everything is going well. I can almost read your minds and I got your application approved. It’ll take a while for everything to come in but you are good to take her home.” 
Charles stood and gave her a giant hug: big enough for the both of them. She patted Charles’s back before grinning widely again. 
“You know, she doesn’t have a name yet.” 
Max’s head whipped from the baby to the woman. 
“We get to name her?” he questioned, heart filling with so much love. There were so many names that he and Charles had picked out. The first name would be something special, something not used before. The middle names would be in honor of loved ones past and present. And then, the baby would take both last names. 
Mitch came over with a certificate and pen in hand. 
“Do you two know or do you need a moment?” 
Max nodded at Charles and then looked back down at the beautiful green eyes that stared up with him. 
Charles did the honors. 
“Her name is Y/n Julia Sophie Pascale Antoinette Leclerc-Verstappen.” 
Little Y/n. Oh how the world wasn’t ready. But it would welcome her with open arms.
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“Shit!” you yelled, tumbling out of bed. You were late, oh you were so late. Max was going to kill you and you could say goodbye to your seat. 
Before the season even started. 
You tripped as you pulled on a shoe, face planting back into the bed. Your phone was currently blowing up with notifications as it rested on the side table. You hastily pulled on your Red Bull polo and grabbed your jeans. Your foot got stuck since you put your shoes on first. 
Great move Y/n, great move. 
You finally got a hand on your phone and answered the call. 
“Where are you? Max is close to having an aneurism,” your race engineer hissed through the phone.  
“I know Charles, but my alarm never went off!” 
Your head was pressing your phone to your shoulder as you talked and walked toward the elevator. 
“Just please get here ASAP,” he sighed. You could see the man rubbing his eyebrows, even if you couldn’t see him. 
“I’m getting in the car now.” 
“You better be thankful. I’ll see you here.” 
When you arrived to the paddock, you went directly to the interviews, which you were late for as well. You winced as you walked in front of everyone and sat down, face ablaze in red. 
Lando poked your side. At least he went with the polo so you two could be matching some. He leaned over when a question was directed to Arthur. 
“Max is going to kill you.” He smirked as he leaned away. Your microphone accidentally picked up the smack to his shoulder. Some eyes landed on you as you tried to duck away. 
Arthur looked over at you. “Nice of you to join us champ.” 
You shrugged. “My alarm didn’t go off.” 
“Sure.” 
Your jaw dropped. “Excuse you?” 
Before you could get any farther, a journalist asked a question directed toward you. 
“Y/n, if I may, how is this season a bit different than last?” 
Your eyes looked up as you thought of a good answer. “Uh, well, there was a lot of change within Red Bull this past winter break. My old teammate went to being my team principal. And then he somehow convinced Charles to join as well and be my race engineer.” 
A scoff came from Arthur that cause you to lean to look at him. 
“Are you all right Leclerc?” 
The Monegasque rolled his eyes. 
“I would like to have my brother back please.” 
“Well, too bad I got him first. And then back to my question. Lando became my teammate and he’s giving me a run for my money.” 
Lando smirked at that statement. 
“Ah yes, the cheeky little bugger he is. But, I’m really on track for my second championship. Maybe next year I’ll let Lando get one.” 
The journalist thanked you for your good answer.
Fortunately the press conference ended after that. Yet, it was unfortunate for you since you could feel Max’s glare from miles away. You stopped, causing Arthur to bump into your back. 
“Any chance I can come hide in your driver’s room?” 
Arthur shook his head yes, giving you some hope. 
“No.” 
You visibly deflated as you watched him walk toward the bright red garage. 
A sigh left your lips as you stalked toward the garage. Charles gave you a sympathetic look as you walked past. His hand rubbed your shoulder until he gently pushed you toward Max. You winced under the Dutchman’s glare. 
“My office Y/n.” 
You could only follow him into the office. You took the first seat you passed in front of the large desk. Max rubbed his eyebrows and sighed. But, you panicked. 
“I’m so sorry Max. I swore I turned on my alarms last night, but I was up late going over data again because I can’t let the team down again like last race. I know that I can make up the speed. And then my phone was on silent and then I tripped on my shoe and the car got stuck in traffic. I swear I went straight to the conference. I won’t be late again I promise, just please don’t take away my seat.” 
Max watched in horror as you lost your composure right in front of him. This monologue only told him that you were truly scared that he’d kick you off the team because of a little DNF last race. His heart dropped as he saw tears stream down your face as you visibly shook. 
He stood up quickly and rounded the desk. His hands dropped on your shoulders. 
“Kid, kid. Listen to me. You’re not going to lose your seat. I was just worried when you didn’t show up and when you didn’t answer mine or Charles’s calls.” 
“Oh.” 
Max wanted to laugh. “Yes, oh. Do you remember all the times I used to show up late? The times that Charles showed up late as well?” 
You let out a chuckle as you remembered both Ferrari drivers would show up a bit late. No one ever seemed to mind. You let out a sigh of relief. 
Max stood up and walked toward the door. “Now, let’s go out there and what do we do?” 
“Kick names and take ass!” 
Max rolled his eyes. “Sure kid. Sure.” 
Earth 1218 - Present Earth   
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You gasped as you sat up in your bed. 
“Kid?” Max questioned, head popping up from the couch. Vegas had been super early again and you and Max didn’t want to go back to the hotel when you had FP2 soon. So, the two of you just curled up in his driver’s room. His voice was groggy as he had just gotten up from an interrupted nap as well. 
You clutched your head and groaned. 
“I had such weird dreams.” 
“Oh. Tell me?” Max’s head was already back down on his pillow. 
“You were a king, and then you were my younger brother?” 
Max snorted but let you continue. He knew that you wouldn’t remember in the morning anyway. 
“And then you were my teammate at Ferrari and Charles drove for Mercedes, Enzo was there. Oh, and then you and Charles were married.” 
“Kid you have been watching too many Lestappen edits on Twitter and TikTok.” 
You only grumbled. 
“I do not. Finally you were my team principal.” 
“Strange. Go back to sleep.” 
Max never got an answer back, because you were already zonked. He chucked and turned back over, phone clenched in his hand as he watched the edit of Charles’s 2022 sunset lap into his 2023 pre-storm qualification. However, he didn’t know that his volume was so loud. 
“He was sunshine, I was midnight rain…And I could see it all in my mind…” 
“I KNEW IT! YOU WATCH THEM TOO!” 
“GO TO SLEEP!” 
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