#it’s just a floating book idea
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putting it here for myself.
a group of supernatural antagonists vs a group of supernatural protagonists.
main character is a guy in the same age range as the protagonists, but manipulated into the antagonist group as a means to succeed and take care of his loved one(s).
the main character is then given orders to infiltrate the protagonists.
by doing this, he develops love and friendship with the protagonists, and starts to resent the inescapable antagonist group. (include specific friendship with the protag leader, like Brothers)
of course, it has to end with the protagonist leader’s death at the hand of the main character. ruining his ties to the protagonists, solidifying his rank with antagonists, and serving as a reminder that he never had much choice.
then, finale is the main character deciding that the antagonists (who are trying to take control of the government to benefit the supernatural side by lying to the public) and the protagonists (college kids who think the only way to protect the supernatural is by defending their own, quietly, and shielding humanity from their existence) are Both wrong. he publishes a spn reveal, including the reveal of the antagonists.
his father, in retaliation, is killed. his career is ruined. everything is chaos, scrambling to either cover up what he’s done or attempt to smooth it over.
main character loses everything, but at the end, his love interest is climbing ranks by being honest and compassionate and riding the wave of chaos to the top.
ending scene is the mc wandering into the perfect position to protect love interest from an assassination attempt, and they make eye contact. love interest is wide eyed, calls his name and reaches, and main character disappears before he can get sucked in.
the end.
#i’m word vomiting#idk if this is even Good#it’s just a floating book idea#anteomnia#book writing#creative writing#potential book idea#writing prompt#IF ANYONE . WANTS TO WRITE THIS#i give full permission#just Please send a link#i want to read it so bad#writing
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Already making lists in my head about all the ways they can bring Siuan back even though I know that it's most likely going to be permanent
#I've seen this idea floating around but yeah Brigitting her out the dream world could work?#although I'm pretty sure it's only a heroes of the horn kind of thing so either they make her one (unlikely) or they abolish that lore thing#and make it so EVERYONE floats in the dream world maybe the majority of people is just UNAWARE and flickering#a deal with the aelifin is also maybe possible!#or balefire the woman who killed her and then maybe that's how that happens#I know they're probably gonna choose to stick with this but honestly I don't like it#I can honestly accept a lot of the changes made in the finale and if they didn't kill her my score would have been top tear for the episode#and I would have just gone with everything#but this is just#wheel of time#wot on prime#wot show spoilers#wheel of time book spoilers
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silly but,, i saw a post going around with that passage and well. visiting halsin post epilogue, plenty of room for this joke to happen lmao you're always considered a young man when you're with full elves i guess!!!
#bg3#baldurs gate 3#astarion#halsin#tavstarion#tavhalstarion#the book is floating idk. i didnt think all 2 hard about this but the idea wouldnt leave me when i saw that picture lmao#aster's tattoos? off the dome as usual#does tumblr allow figure drawing level bare asses. we'll see i guess#i didnt actually do the poly romance route with aster even tho i love halsin lol#wanted to play aster as basically just very wholeheartedly devoted to astarion#especially with durge shit going on at the time too#post game though i def imagine they have something sweet with halsin#when theyre in the area that is lol#itseart
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OH!! BERNIE GOING TO HELL!! FOR SHAME!! A THOUSAND YEARS OF HELL FOR BERNIE!!!! despite her culinary prowess it's taken her two batches to get the recipe just right, and if it weren't for her last sliver of rationale she would have yanked the tray out of the brick oven without mitts and run. the waft of pastries rouses enough sense back in her to remember the basket, the wrapping, and the sunflowers before she sprints. all the way across the courtyards, all the way to maria's room. she's wheezing like an old man hacking up ash by the time her knuckles thud against the door, and when it opens, she's only catching her breath a little bit when she greets maria.
"bernie remembered—" she wheezes, holds up her index. a second passes. "—i-i remembered... your favorites!"
what's your favorite dessert? what's your favorite tea? what's your home like? what are your favorite stories, and what are your dreams? two girls have shared these in their time together, blowing wishes on dandelions and marveling at sunflowers. bernadetta manages to straighten herself just in time to rustle through the basket of goodies, pulling out a sealed envelope and handing it to maria. there's a reddish tint from more than running that dusts her cheeks.
"um, happy birthday! and i sort of drew... well... y-you don't have to keep it if it's stupid! but i thought, you know..." inside, there's an illustration of a girl with hair red as roses—and beside her, a knight, an older brother with silver hair. bernadetta can barely look maria in the eye, but steals an occasional peek through her lashes. "just... something else to remember him by. for you. i hope you like it. or at least the sweets. o-or the flowers?"
It is a peaceful day today, and that is all-- or at least mostly all-- that Maria would ever dare to ask for. With her notebook laid out on her desk before her, the little cleric hums in between minuscule nibbles of cookies that are honestly too pretty to eat (how criminal of her!), breaking every so often to huff a quiet laugh when she catches the tinkling of little bells.
--the cacophony that comes next is not entirely without prelude, a chaotic crescendo of footfalls cresting into a thunderous rapping at her door. And Maria, though she rises from her seat, stands stunned a moment overlong ere she wades through her laughter to pull the door wide open.
"Bernie!" Comes the cheerful greeting, two voices weaving into a silly little song.
"Bernie remembered--"
"--you remembered!"
"--I-I remembered..."
"-- oh! Careful!"
"... your favorites!"
One hand darting out to gingerly keep the basket from tipping over, Maria's eyes sparkle as they flit over the promise of a gift, of remembrance and affection shared, and shares her own in kind, warmth seeping from her softly narrowed smile.
"...hee hee!" She had never doubted that she would. If a heart was a cup into which love was poured, Maria thinks that Bernie's would be a babbling brook. One with a pebbled shore, dandelions and wild grass hugging its bends, carrying toy boats to new adventures and bottled wishes out to sea. The sailors would be named such things as 'fruit mousse' and 'sweet-apple blend' -- what silly sailors they were! -- and the wishes would whisper to her curious currents, "only a story like a hundred thousand other stories, but it is unique to me in all the world"; or even, "to put my home together again... and my home, together again. Keep it secret, okay? Hee hee!" -- how novel, that wishes should laugh!
And all of them would be safe with Bernie; Bernie will remember, and carry it with her, and it will matter to her even when her knuckles hang at the door and pink speckles her cheeks and she's still wheezing a little bit, but not so ash-eating-old-man-like anymore.
"Hee hee... heeheehee!"
Then, if laughter was a song in love, in this moment Maria's sounds like nothing less than adoration. The cup overflows, the brook babbles (but wheezes less and less), and there is no more lovely melody than bright, unfettered laughter. Music still rushes from the corners of her smiling mouth as she takes the envelope in hand, coming to quietude as she gently unfolds the parchment.
"--oh...!" The little princess swallows her voice, blinking once, twice, three times and more at the picture in her hands. On the other side, Bernadetta just barely peeks at her through her lashes, but the reassurances stick in her throat like a marble. It is one thing to write what remains with her in memory, but it is another thing entirely to look at his face again, smiling beside hers. (It is also a secret third thing, that it should be a gift -- that it had been remembered, that it mattered, that it was always safe with Bernie.)
"... ...mm-mmm!" Holding it gently to her chest, Maria beams a smile full to bursting with sunshine, effulgent even through the few tears that prickle at her eyes. "It's not stupid! Not at all! Having a picture of him... and with me, too?" That was a wish she hadn't realized she'd held onto. "It's perfect! And it makes me so happy I think I might burst! Hee hee!"
Rocking back onto her heels, the little princess hastily-but-carefully tucks the picture back into its envelope; then, with her treasure newly secured, she lurches onto her tiptoes and throws herself forward from there, arms wrapped around Bernadetta's shoulders and a song of laughter now singing in her ears.
"And I remember, too!" A step back at that, though hands still linger on the other girl's shoulders, a promise made just for her.
"Hee hee... look forward to it, okay? I love it, Bernie! And I love you!"

#hermidetta#WOOGH sorry it took me a hot second to get the doodle done :dusted:#sveinn vc remember who you are#sorry i sat down to reply and was possessed by the spirit of whimsy HAHA#me thinking about bernadetta while writing this and physically clenching my fist IAUSHFIUEHGIRUEGH#UGH... WUAUHGHHHHH BERNIEEEEEE she's so fucking sweet my heart aches#(slapping the table multiple times and frantically)#one of the silly ideas floating around in my head was sveinn sort of being the sibling that resembles maria in mannerism#since she's kind of the odd duck of her family (hydrogen 5'2" baby vs coughing 6'+ bombs)#especially if it was smth like their smiles..that was just squishy to me#also that it's sort of a rarer expression that gets drawn out by bernie just being bernie and being so precious to them for it#also^2 that the palette i picked was called 'our love will transcend universes' which was so fitting i think#with sveinn being from the book while maria and bernadetta are not#and also maridetta's friendship getting turbo boosted across a handful of little event pocket dimensions HAHA#bernadetta when your inbox opens..... :sommie_sommie:#wow looking at these tags ive said so much and also absolutely nothing AHFSFHSDEGSD#just know that your bernadetta fills my heart with love and light auuauuuuuuu
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i didn't realize until recently how little fantasy stuff is in my world. sure they're all animals or dragons and they've got magic but there's no actual gods and i didn't even think about including magical artifacts or beings made of magic until a month or so ago. everything could've been so much cooler this whole time lol
#ghost post#well i can fix it now#i only have one idea for a magic being so far and its that one of the gods (not technically gods but thats how people see them) had so much#magic that part of it flaked off and gained sentience#the god's name is october and they founded a prosperous city but they eventually turned into a tyrant#and the people of the city fought them to gain control and won#and october was driven away and left severely weakened#but during the conflict that's when part of their magic broke off and became its own person#it took the same form as october (just smaller) and terrorized the city for a while but then it discovered Free Will(tm)#and now its much happier doing whatever it wants instead of what october wanted#and since its made from shapeshifting magic and its original form was mimicing october after it denounced them it has no set form and just#is whatever it wants to be in the moment#it doesn't even have a name and i'm attached lol#anyway my ideas for magical artifacts are much more boring lol#the dragon who rules over elemental magic made a set of staffs that let anyone use magic (one for each element)#that was a long time ago and none of the dragons are very involved with mortals anymore#but the staffs are still very powerful and floating around the world possibly getting into the wrong hands#:) i'm sure none of the main characters will ever have to deal with that :))))#another one is a set of two books and when you write in one the text appears in the other (like sunset shimmer's book in mlp)#and my last idea is a mask that can absorb people's appearances then if you put it on you look exactly like them down to every detail#truly an imposter amogus moment#anyway if anyone has reached the bottom of these tags tysm for reading and please let me know if you have ideas for more anything
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bsd anastasia (musical) au
atsushi as anya
dazai as vlad
akutagawa as a (very different) dmitry
chuuya as countess lily
still deciding who is the dowager empress and gleb
#this has been in my brain for months#i made an edit to a rumor in st petersburg about atsushi and the book#and its been floating around my head ever since#if anyone has any character suggestions for the remaining slots#or places to fit in other characters#or just wants to here more#let me know [eyes emoji]#this idea is just so fun to me#bsd#bsd au#anastasia bsd au#atsushi bsd#atsushi nakajima#dazai osamu#dazai bsd#akutagawa ryuunosuke#akutagawa bsd#chuuya nakahara#chuuya bsd#anastasia
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Half considering making presentation style post about different kinds of style common for detectives (fedoras, overcoats, suits, etc) because my blorbos selection gives me the ability to be very opinionated about this specific branch of menswear.
#seal.txt#book club#oc: the freak#<-tagging him bc every time i float this idea i think about what he would think#part of my creation of Freak Lore involved way too much diving into menswear forum websites#not that its a bad thing but it means that i grimace when i see certain style choices picked for my faves#that i know would go against their behavior and sensibilities#like how in the tos series Vic wears low waisted pants. which he would NEVER DO... it just isnt right.....#anyway what if i made a uquiz where you dress a detective and then it tells you who you would be#that would be fun. right? would that be fun to everyone else? just me?#that's okay
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Comment resources
Receiving comments means so much to fic authors so we’d love to encourage people to leave more. But we appreciate that leaving comments can be a bit daunting or draining, especially on days when we are tired or already stressed. So here are a few resources to hopefully encourage us all to leave more and to make doing so easier.
Archive of Our Own floating comment boxes
There are a couple of versions of these out there and they can be helpful. They are browser extensions that allow you to keep the comment box on the screen whenever you like so that you can easily comment as you read, rather than getting to the end and panicking about what to say.
Here are two different versions:
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AO3 Random Nice Comments
This browser extension will give you a short, nice comment from a list at the press of a button. It may be useful for beginner commenters who want to say something nice but are unsure what.
Comment prompts
If you want to craft your own comments but are unsure what to say, here’s a few starting points:
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Speculate on what could happen after the end of the fic
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Or there’s the simple but ever loved:
Keyboard smash
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Good and easy comment ideas by ao3-shenanigans
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Here’s a few stickers we made to use in place of comments if you want to leave something but still don’t know what to type out yourself:
html for the above, in order:
<img src="https://i.postimg.cc/yYRJxJ8C/readforbookclub-sticker.png" alt="sticker with stars and text reading: I READ THIS FIC FOR FANFIC BOOK CLUB AND LOVED IT" width=45% />
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a lifetime of summers - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which every summer, at the villa your families rent together every year, gives you a version of charles OR you and charles are childhood best friends with a complicated history. warnings: angst, language, childhood friends with complicated history, smut, angst, yearning, etc... idk what I'm missing, NOT PROOFREAD (prob typos or things that might not make sense), lots of back and forth, messy messy messy, also cute, jealousy jealousy, seriously lots of YEARNING, them being stupid also word count: ~8k author's note: this idea came to me a few days ago and i've spent as much time as possible working on it since (in between carlos version). y'know when the creativity just hits right and the words pour out of you?? that was me with this. i hope you guys like it!!!! xoxo ◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤
Age 7.
“I’m gonna marry you one day.”
The villa smells of sun lotion and salty air.
Your dad’s playing music through some tiny old speaker he brought. And the adults are laughing too loud over their drinks.
The sun is beginning to sink, but it’s still hot.
You’re sticky with juice, hair tangled, and bathing suit clinging awkwardly.
Charles is chasing you. A water balloon in his hands.
You shriek, running against the hot stones. Smiling so hard that it hurts.
“Y’already got me twice!” You shout in between giggles. “S’not fair!”
Charles appears closer. Face sunburnt. A smile tugged on his lips. “You cheated at Candy Land!”
“You cheated first!”
“Because you always win!”
And he raises the balloon over his head.
“If you throw that, I’m telling maman you said a bad word the other day.”
His smile drops. “I did not!”
You cross your arms over your chest. “Uh huh…you said ‘shit’ when you hit your funny bone.”
“It hurt!” He argues.
You stick your tongue out.
And then he hesitates. Looking at the balloon. Then at you.
Throws the balloon anyway.
It explodes against your stomach. Cold water soaking you.
And you gasp.
Then lunge for him. Chase him all the way into the back yard, shrieking. Laughing so hard that you both struggle to breathe properly.
And eventually you both collapse into the grass. Side by side. Near the lemon tree.
There’s a few moments of silence. Both of you panting from trying to catch your breath.
“I’m gonna marry you one day.”
You blink. “Why?”
“Because you’re funny. And you like ice pops. And you beat me at Mario Kart once.”
You look at him. And he’s staring at the leaves above your heads. Arms touching.
“I don’t think that’s how marriage works,” your voice soft.
“Don’t care.” He shrugs.
You roll your eyes. “Okay. But I don’t want to wear a dress.”
“Fine. But you have to split the cake with me.”
“Only if it’s chocolate.”
“Well duh.”
And you both fall asleep like that. In the grass. Smelling like chlorine. Sticky with sugar.
-
Age 12
“Why are you being weird?”
The summer heat is burning.
Heat clings to you like a second skin. And you’re still dripping from the pool. The stone tiles are too hot to stand on for too long, so everyone moves around them quickly. Your hair is wet. Trying to read a book, but can’t focus.
Because Charles won’t stop staring at you.
Well, he’s technically not staring. But he’s in the pool in your direct eyesight. Hands behind his head as he sits on a float. Sunglasses almost too big for his face. Smirking.
And every so often, he splashes water your way.
“Would you stop?” You snap. Wiping the water off your ankles.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. Blinking. Innocent.
You groan, falling back on the lounger. Trying to ignore him.
He floats closer. “You haven’t turned the page in almost twenty minutes.”
“That’s because you’re distracting me.”
And he grins. A full sheepish grin. “You think I’m cute.”
You don’t answer. Keep your eyes on your book.
“Y’gonna tell your friends I have a six pack now?” He calls out.
You raise your eyebrows, “Six pack of what?”
“Muscles.” He says. Dead serious.
And your mouth twitches. “Your voice still cracks.”
Charles slips off the floatie. Swims to the edge and rests his arms on the ledge. Chin on his forearm as he looks at you.
“Yeah? And what does it do to you when I say your name?”
Your breath hitches.
“You’re blushing.”
“It’s the sun.”
He laughs. And you throw your book at him.
He ducks under the water. And when he resurfaces, grinning…you’re trying so hard to not smile. And he knows it.
“Why are you being so weird?” you ask.
He shrugs.
“You’re just starting to notice me now.”
And you don’t answer.
And later that night, when you’re brushing your teeth. Still burnt from the sun. You wonder what he meant.
You don’t ask.
But you do start to.
-
Age 15
“That didn’t count.”
“So kiss me again.”
The villa is quiet.
Your parents and his mom stay up talking. Your siblings long asleep. Arthur passed out on the couch.
A few candles flicker near the steps, but most of the light is coming from the moonlight.
You’re barefoot. The grass cool and soft beneath your toes as you walk to the lemon tree. The one where you and Charles always meet when its too late and you’re supposed to be asleep.
He’s already there. Leaning against it.
He looks different this year. Taller. A little bit sharper. More grown into his body.
He glances at you. “Took you long enough.”
“Had to sneak past my sister.”
He grins, holding up a bag of chips.
And you sit beside him. Your shoulder brushing his.
Talking about nothing for a while. Catching up on the weeks you aren’t together. How he kissed a girl in Monaco and it was fine but also kind of awkward. And you pretend you don’t hate hearing it.
You tell him about the boy from school who tried to hold your hand during a movie when you went with your group of friends.
Charles almost immediately demands his full name. And address.
And you laugh.
He tosses a lemon up and catches it. Again and again.
“I heard you tell Joris that I was in love with you.” You say.
And he glances at you. “I did not.”
You narrow your eyes. A smile on your lips.
And he shrugs. “I said you were obsessed with me. S’not the same.”
And you laugh. Then scoff. “You wish.”
You shove his arm. And he grabs your wrist before you can pull it back. Fingers wrapping around you. Warm. Familiar. But somehow different.
Neither of you speak for a few moments. Just take in the sound of the cicadas, the faint chatter of the adults on the terrace.
“Y’ever kissed anyone?”
And your stomach twists. Look away. “No.”
He nods. “Me either…at least, not really.”
Silence.
And then he says, “Wanna try?”
You look at him. But he’s already looking at you. And he looks nervous. Hopeful. Like he’s been thinking about this for a long time. Nothing like the boy who used to throw water balloons and stick paint in your hair.
You nod.
And it’s awkward. Your noses bump. One of you breathes too loudly. His hands tremble at your cheek.
But it’s sweet. Slow.
And his lips are soft.
And when you pull apart, you both stare at each other. Lips a little rosier than before.
“That didn’t count.” You whisper.
And he blinks. “Why not?”
“There was no tongue.”
And he grins. Slowly.
And then pulls you back into him.
And this time….it’s real.
-
Age 17
“This doesn’t have to mean anything.”
The villa’s light glow behind you. Laughter echoing from the kitchen where your parents and his maman are finishing a bottle of wine.
You and Charles are on the terrace. Barefoot. A shared bottle of win between you. Practically empty. And his leg brushes against yours every time he fidgets.
It’s the first summer where you’ve both been allowed to really drink. Not just a stolen sip of a half-empty bottle found on the kitchen counter. Or a watered down spritz. Real drinks. Poured and given to you like adults.
And you’re a little tipsy. Cheeks warm and rosy. Limbs loose.
“You’re quiet tonight,” you glance at him.
He nods. “Jus’ thinking.”
“You do that?”
And he laughs. “Shut up.”
You smile. Taking a small sip straight from the bottle before placing it back down. “What are you thinking about?”
He hesitates for a little. “Uh…that night last year.”
You don’t have to ask which night. You already know.
The night behind the lemon tree. His mouth on yours. And you think about it often.
“Me too,” You admit. Soft.
And he looks at you. Watch as his gaze dips to your mouth.
And then he’s leaning in.
The kiss is soft. Deeper. Not rushed. And his lips are warm. Tastes of wine and something sweet. Like the fruit you guys were picking at earlier.
When he pulls back, his voice cracks a little bit. “I want you.”
You don’t answer. Just smile soft. Pulling his hand into yours as you drag him into the villa. Into the bedroom.
Your clothes peel off slowly. Clumsy. And he’s careful. Like he’s afraid if he moves too fast, it’ll ruin the moment.
“Y’sure about this?” He whispers.
You nod. “Yeah…want it to be you.”
And he closes his eyes for a second. Like his heart is in his throat.
And then it happens.
It’s slow. Messy. You both laugh when your arms bump. And he curses softly when he cant get the condom wrapper open. But then he’s inside you, and your laughter becomes hushed gasps. Fingers digging into each other.
“Y’okay?” He mutters. His forehead pressed to yours.
And your nails dig into his back. “Yeah.”
And then he kisses you again. Harder. Holds you closer.
Later, when you’re both lying tangled in the dark…you feel his fingers tracing your skin. Both of you enjoying the silence.
Then a good few moments later.
“This doesn’t have to mean anything.”
You swallow hard.
“Yeah.”
-
Age 19
“Y’gonna dance with him again?”
“He asked.”
“You let him kiss your cheek.”
“You fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night.”
“That’s different.”
You’re barefoot in the sand. Music loud. And Luca…or maybe it was Leo? You weren’t sure. Had his hands lightly on your hips. Flirty.
You’re laughing at something dumb he said into your ear. And then you feel it.
The heat. The stare.
Glance over your shoulder and…
Charles. Leaning against the beach bar. Beer in hand.
Eyes on you with a glint in his eye like you’ve offended him.
You try not to react. But the next time Luca spins you, you pull away with a smile and a I’ll be right back.
You only make it a few steps before Charles intercepts your path.
“Having fun?” He says. Trying to be casual. But his voice is too tight. Too bitter.
“Yes.” You brush past him. And he falls right into step with you.
“You’ve got weird taste in music.”
“That’s not my music taste. It’s called dancing.”
And he scoffs.
You walk to the side of the bar. To a more private area. Grabbing his shoulder to face you.
“Are you okay?” Voice sweet. Gentle. Caring.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re glaring too much.”
And looks at you. “I just think it’s funny.”
“Oh, here we go.”
“I mean, you don’t even like that song.”
You cross your arms against your chest. And he steps closer.
“You let him put his hands on you.”
You raise a brow. “So?”
“So…you let him touch you. Kiss your cheek”
And you laugh. Soft. “You fingered me in the kitchen pantry last night, Charles.”
His jaw clenches. Hands twitch. “That’s different.”
“Is it?”
You take a step closer. Testing him, And he doesn’t budge.
“It’s not the same.”
You stare at him. His cheeks are sunburned. And his eyes are so green it makes your heart rate spike. So handsome.
“So I’m not allowed to dance with a guy I’ll never see again?”
He runs a hand over his face. Grazing the slight stubble on his jaw. “You’re not just dancing.”
“No,” You admit. “But you’re not just fucking me either.”
His eyes widen. Slightly stunned.
And you don’t back down. Step even closer until your chests are touching.. “You don’t wanna talk about what this is? That’s fine. But you don’t get to act jealous then.”
“I’m not jealous.”
And you grin. Snort. Just a tiny bit.
“Okay,” he says. Throwing his hands up. “Maybe I am.”
Your stomach twists.
“I just…I don’t like seeing you with other guys.” His voice is low.
“Well…it’s not like you don’t talk to other girls, Charles.”
And then you leave him standing there. Alone.
-
“Wanna go out for a bit?” He asks. “Just us?”
And you say yes without even thinking.
You’re on a light blue towel, sunglasses over your face, pretending to read a book. Charles is stretched out next to you. An arm tucked under his head. Throwing grapes in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth.
You glance over just as a grape hits his forehead and falls into the sand.
“Impressive.”
He laughs. “The wind interfered!”
He tosses another grape. Misses again.
And you burst into laughter.
“I’m warming up.”
He laughs with you. Giving up and rolling onto his side to face you.
He squints his eyes at you. “Do you have sunscreen on?”
“Yes.”
“Are you positive?”
Your brows furrow. “Why?”
“I think that….” His hand reaches for the bottle of sun lotion, flicking it open. “That you missed a spot.”
He squirts some into his hand, a smirk on his lips.
“Back off.”
And he reaches for you, smearing it all over your chest. You shriek, tossing your book into the sand beside you.
And somewhere between this sun lotion assault, you’re both breathless and laughing so hard.
He pins you down, dropping heaps of sun lotion onto your skin.
“Truce,” You laugh. Stomach burning from laughter.
He nods. Smiling. Rubbing the sunscreen into your skin.
“Don’t want you to burn.”
You throw a pile of sand at him. And he doesn’t even flinch.
-
His cock is already buried inside you. Deep. Thick. Fucking aching.
“God, you’re fuckin soaked.” He groans into your neck. Hand pressed into your stomach.
You claw at his back. Back arched. Legs spread. Shaking every time he hits that spot in your tummy just right.
He looks down at you like he’s overwhelmed. Like he doesn’t understand how you can feel this fucking good.
“Swear to God,” He grunts. Pulling back slow, then snapping his hips forward. “S’like your pussy jus gets tighter every time.”
Your mouth falls open. Gasping.
His hands slip under your thigh, pushing your knee into your chest. Fucking you deeper.
And then he moans.
“Jesus….fuck.” He chokes out. “Y’feel that?”
You sob out.
“I’ve been inside you like a hundred times this summer and it still feels like fuckin heaven.”
His forehead drops and presses into yours. Voice rough.
“M’not gonna last.” He huffs. “You’re too wet. Too fuckin tight.”
You grip his shoulders, nails digging into the skin. “Don’t stop…”
“You’re fuckin milking me.” He cuts you off. “Y’gonna come? Please come on me. C’mon baby…please, yeah? Please let me have it.”
And you fall apart. Gasping. Shaking. Coming so hard around his cock it makes his head fall back.
And he swears. Filthily. French tumbling out go his mouth.
And then he’s spilling inside of you. Chest pressed to yours. Hips jerking.
He buries his face in your beck. Collapsing on you.
And neither of you speak for a bit.
Just catch your breath. Comfortable silence. Holding each other.
Eventually, he reaches up. Tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
Then whispers into the dark.
“I like it here.”
And he doesn’t elaborate.
You don’t ask him to.
-
Age 21
“He seems tense.”
“He’s fine.”
“He didn’t even blink when I mentioned that guy from Madrid.”
“I told you not to bring it up.”
Your best friend’s been here for five days and already the villa feels different.
She means well. But she talks fast, drinks fast, and has no filter.
She also loves to talk about your love life.
The one that you’re apparently “thriving in”.
“So wait,” she says over breakfast, digging her fork into her food. “You never texted that guy from Madrid back? Y’know the one with the sexy voice?”
Across the table, Charles is picking at his plate. Fork pausing. Just for a little bit. Enough for you to notice.
You look at her, “No.”
“Why not? He was so hot.”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
“But he was so into you…” She takes a sip of her drink. “What about the Italian one? The one you really liked.”
Charles cuts into his eggs. A little bit harder. Knife scraping the plate.
“He ghosted.”
“Ugh, yeah total loser.” She laughs. “Oh my god, remember…what was his name? From the bar crawl.”
“Liam.” You choke out.
“Yes! Liam!” She snaps her fingers. “Didn’t he pick you up at the bar? Like just threw you over his shoulder?”
You laugh, slightly embarrassed. Nodding.
Charles sets his mug down a little too hard.
And then he stands. Takes his plate to the sink.
And walks out.
“Was it something I said?” Your best friend asks.
-
You find him in the kitchen later. Your best friend is lounging out by the pool and you slipped inside to grab a water.
He’s rinsing the plates. Back to you. But his jaw is clenched tight.
You lean against the counter by him. “Hey.”
He doesn’t look at you. Just keeps scrubbing the dishes. A little harder than before.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” He says. “Just didn’t realize breakfast started with a running list of every guy you’ve fucked.”
You wince.
And he breathes deeply. Dropping the dish in the sink. “Sorry…that was, uh harsh.”
You give a tiny nod.
“I just…” He turns off the water. Looks at you. “Didn’t know it was like that?”
“Like what?”
He shrugs.
“Is it a problem?”
He stares at you. Sucks his bottom lip in for a moment. Like he’s deep in thought. Before finally saying…
“No. It’s not my place.”
And there it is.
You step back. “Right.”
And then you’re turning around, reaching in the cabinet for a glass. “Still going to the bonfire later?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, if you still want to.”
“Cool,” Your voice is light.
-
Age 22
“You’ve been quiet lately.”
“I’m just tired.”
The long table on the terrace is full.
Extra chairs from inside scattered around it, one of your younger cousins crawling underneath it.
Your dad is asking your mom if there’s more grilled vegetables. Meanwhile your sister insists on telling the story about the jellyfish sting again.
“And she was crying so hard, she had actual snot bubbles on her face,” She says. Laughing.
You lift your hand, “I was six!”
Charles laughs. “You thought you were dying.”
“I thought it was venom!” You laugh. “And no one even helped me.”
“We were too busy laughing at the snot,” He says. Looking at you. That familiar grin pulled on his face, eyes crinkled. Like it was just you two.
And then Alex leans into him. Whispers into his ear. And whatever she says makes him smile wider. Makes him shift toward her without even thinking.
You chug your wine.
“I love that photo,” Alex says softly. And you glance at her to find her already looking at you. “The one of you and everyone in the inflatable pool. You’re the only one not smiling.”
You curl your lips. “We were sinking.”
“It’s so funny though,” She says. “You look so unimpressed by them.”
“She always looks like that,” Charles chimes in. “Probably came out of the womb judging people.”
You narrow your eyes, but the smile pulling on your lips gives you away.
Alex laughs. And your mom’s already popping open the next bottle of wine.
And it would be perfect.
If it weren’t for Charles sitting across from you, arms wrapped around another person. Like he’s not yours anymore.
You ask Alex about her job, and you mean it. She answers so soft and kind that it almost makes you hate her. Almost.
But you can’t. Because she’s nice.
“She’s good for him,” Your sister whispers under her breath, leaning toward you. “You’ve been quiet lately.”
You nod. “I’m just tired.”
Eventually, dinner ends. Alex excuses herself to help your mom bring out dessert. And Charles follows.
And when they come back, head thrown back laughing.
He sets a slice of cake in front of you without a word.
And you thank him like its normal.
-
Someone suggest drinks at the beach bar. Something to do. The one with the bulbs on string down the street.
You come barefoot, some sweet drink already in hand. Alex walks beside you, her wedges hooked in her fingers, hem of her dress brushing her knees.
She’s pretty in a way that doesn’t feel threatening. Not showy. Just perfect.
Inside the bar, you spot Charles leaned against the bar with a beer, grinning at something Arthur’s saying. And he’s wearing that linen button up that you used to tell him he looks like a recently divorced rich guy in.
You find yourself smiling.
Alex touches your arm. “Hey…you want a new drink?”
You shake your head. “I’m good for now.”
She nods. A small smile on her lips.
“I was really nervous to meet you.”
You blink. Eyes slightly wider. “Me?”
She nods. “Charles talks about you all the time.”
You freeze for a moment.
“Yeah,” she smiles. “Not like in a weird way. Just like you’re part of the picture. In his life. Almost every story he tells involves you.”
You don’t know how to respond.
“I’m just glad you’re not..uh, like intimidating.” She laughs.
And you laugh back. “I save the intimidation after a few weeks.”
She smiles. “So I’ve still got time?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
And for this moment, you like her. Even if it hurts.
Because she’s kind.
Because she doesn’t know that you and Charles shared a bed when thunderstorms were scary.
Because she wasn’t there the summer he kissed you against the sand and told you he’d never want anyone else.
You chug your drink.
Later, you’re all gathered near the back of the deck, huddled around a wooden table and wobbly stools. Someone ordered a side of fries. Someone else ordered a round of shots no one really wanted but drank anyways.
You’re pressed between Charles and your sister. You’re laughing. Tipsy. Warm.
Charles is teasing your sister about something but you’re not really listening.
And that’s when another guy slides in.
Not dramatically. Just casual. Confident.
He’s tall. Tanned. Cute.
He talks to the guy beside him, someone you’ve definitely seen before, and then turns to you.
“Did I hear something about you getting stung by a jellyfish?”
You smile. “Unfortunately.”
He nods. A grin. “Survival stories always get me.”
“Tragic,” you say.
He laughs. “I’m Nick.”
You take a sip of your drink, tilting your head. “Do you open with tragedy stories for flirting a lot? Or is it just me?”
“Only for girls who look like they bite back.”
You grin. Slow. “You say that like its a challenge.”
“Depends,” He shrugs, gaze dropping to your bare legs, then back to your face.
“On?”
“Depends how hard you bite.”
And you laugh. Like really laugh. Hard. Head falling back. And then you feel it. The way Charles stills beside you. The way his fingers grip his cup just a little bit tighter.
And Nick leans in closer. More private. “So…what other tragedies should I know about you?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“If you want facts or warnings.”
He raises a brow. “Any preference?”
You place your cup down on the table. “I like a little risk.”
And Charles says something to your sister now. A little louder. Like he’s trying to distract you.
You don’t bother to look at him.
Nick grins. “And just how dangerous are you exactly?”
You grin back. “Pretty dangerous.”
He laughs. “Good.”
You both just stare at each other for a little. Grinning.
“You dancing?” He asks, nodding his head in direction of the dance floor.
“Are you asking or telling?”
“I’m hoping.”
You slide off the stool.
“Let’s go tragedy boy.”
And as he takes your hand. Leads you into the crowd. You catch Charles’s eyes.
Watching.
Burning.
-
The music’s slowed a little. Just swaying to the music, instead of the rapid jumping you were doing earlier.
Nick’s hand rests at your hip. His other is holding your drink while you talk with your hands.
“You can’t seriously think pineapple belongs on pizza,” You yell over the music.
Nick grins. “It’s good.”
“You’re weird.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
And you laugh, bumping your shoulder into his. He leans in, speaking into your ear.
“You know your friend’s been staring at us for like ten minutes, right?”
You blink. “Huh?”
He tips his head. Over your shoulder. And you turn just a little bit. Just enough to see Charles still sitting at the table.
Drink in hand. Not talking. Not even blinking. Just looking.
You breathe out, turning back. “That Charles.”
Nick raises a brow, nodding. “Ahh.”
“Don’t read into it.”
He watches you.
“He has a girlfriend.”
Nick hums, a teasing grin. “He doesn’t look like he remembers that right now.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Cool.”
You shrug. “You don’t believe me?”
He smiles. “Doesn’t matter what I believe. Just means if I kiss you, he might kill me.”
You laugh. “You’re awful.”
“You’re still here.”
And you look at each other. Smiling.
You kiss him. Not because you’re falling for him. But because you’re single. Because Charles brought someone else. Because he gets to have her. Because you’re tired of thinking about him.
So you kiss him to feel good. To forget. To remind yourself that you’re free.
Hands in his shirt. Hands on your waist.
And you let yourself lean into it.
Enjoy the uncomplicated.
And for a few moments…it almost works.
-
Age 23
“You brought him here.”
“Yeah. Remember you said he wouldn’t last.”
You’re late this year.
Flight was delayed. Rental car place was too busy. And by the time your feet hit the familiar stone of the villa’s terrace, the sun is already low in the sky.
Theo’s beside you. Rolling your suitcase like a pure gentleman. He’s good. Kind. Gets along with your parents. Laughs at your sister’s jokes.
And still, your heart flutters when you hear his voice.
Charles.
Laughing louder than necessary. As if he wants you to hear it.
You follow the sound. Trying not to think about the last time you saw him. A few months ago in Monaco. A hotel room you both swore you wouldn’t end up in. Both seeing other people. Both pretending it didn’t count.
And it wasn’t even the first time.
Since last summer, it’s happened a few times too many. Whenever him and Alex called it off. On and off. On and off. You slipped between the cracks. A quiet fuck in your apartment. A drunken make out at a birthday party. You pressed against the shower tiles. Bent over his kitchen counter.
Always followed by soft smiles and easy goodbyes. A promise to act normal.
Best friends first.
And the moment you step further into the terrace, you see him.
Charles standing against the bar, shirt unbuttoned. Tanned. Holding a drink with the confidence of someone who knows exactly how hot he looks.
And worse…Alex is next to him.
Beautiful of course. Sundress swaying. Hand on his chest like it belongs there.
He notices you before you can even speak. Smile faltering for a fraction of a second. Just enough for you to really feel it. And then it’s back.
And he lifts his glass in a salute. “You’re late.”
Alex smiles. “We thought you weren’t coming til’ tomorrow!”
You smile back. She was always so nice. “Surprise!”
Theo steps forward. Hand extended with that charm that always made it hard to hate him. “Hey…Charles, right?”
And Charles doesn’t hesitate. Shakes his hand. But its the same one he uses with driver’s he never liked. “Yeah. We’ve met.”
And it hits you like a knife to the ribs.
You remember that night clear as day. Theo was still new. Only a few dates in. And you invited him to a party.
Charles showed up late. And barely looked at Theo. Offered him a lazy smile before finding you later into the night. Pulling you into his car thirty minutes later and fucking you in the back seat.
And Theo’s smiling. “Nice to see you again.”
Charles smiles. But his eyes stay on you. Never leave your face.
Alex swings her arm into his. “So glad you made it. Saved you the good room too.”
You smile at her. “That’s sweet of you.”
Charles lifts a brow. “Didn’t know you needed a good room to enjoy yourself here.”
And you hum. “Guess I’ve gotten a little pickier.”
He takes a sip of his drink. “Since when?”
And you shrug your shoulders. “Since I started dating someone who doesn’t forget my birthday.”
And it hits him like a bullet. You see the way his jaw shifts. Swallow.
Theo’s hand slips onto your lower back. Whispering softly into your ear. Nothing specific. Just something that makes you smile.
And Charles swear’s he might just vomit.
-
The ocean is calm. Waves hitting the rocks. A few birds chirping. Air cool before the sun is fully up.
You slip out of bed, letting Theo sleep. Making your way down the stony path that you walked hundreds of times. Towel slung over your shoulder. Hair twisted up in a clip.
And you’re halfway across the sand when you see him.
Already waist deep in the water. Back facing you.
You freeze. Debating if you should turn around.
But it’s too late. He see’s you. And his face shifts into something. Longing? Guilt? You’re not sure.
“You’re always here early,” He calls out.
You drop your towel, walking into the water without glancing at him. “Not always.”
He watches you. You can feel the burn of his eyes on your skin. “You do when you’re avoiding me.”
You glance up. The water cool against your skin. “Who said I’m avoiding you?”
He shrugs. “History.”
You reach him in the water. You both stand there, not touching. Not moving.
Eventually…he speaks.
“He’s staying the entire time?”
You raise a brow. “Are you asking as my best friend or something else?”
He doesn’t answer.
You move a little closer. “You said he wouldn’t last.”
“I was wrong.” His voice is low. “Clearly.”
He swallows. Looks away from you. “Does he know?”
And your stomach twists. “Know what?”
He doesn’t say anything. Lets the silence tell you.
You feel your throat tightening. “He know’s we’re close.”
“Close.” He repeats. Half snort, half laugh.
“Best friends.”
He turns to fully face you now. Jaw clenched.
“Right. Just best friends.”
You don’t respond. Because what else are you supposed to say? That you still feel his fingers dig into your skin. That no matter how many nights pass, you still wonder what this could’ve been if you both spoke up all those years ago.
He steps closer. Too close now.
“Y’still taste like that shitty rosé we used to drink.”
And you blink. Trying not to smile. “You’re not funny.”
“Not trying to be.”
His fingers brush against your shoulder.
“You have a girlfriend.”
And his eyes look sad. He breathes loudly. “And you have him.”
-
The villa is loud tonight. Music is blasting. Too many drinks are being poured. Bowls of snacks turning stale.
All of you are packed into the living room. Sunburn. Sprawled into chairs or the floor. Hoodies thrown on.
Your families are here. Everyone laughing and shouting. Bickering. Like its still 15 years ago.
Theo sits behind you on the rug, legs wrapped around you. Hand resting on your hip. And he’s been sweet all evening. He fits.
Yet every time you crack a joke. Or win a game. It’s Charles who looks at you first. Like he’s your person.
His leg bounces restlessly.
“Alright,” Arthur announces. “We’re playing that game again. The one with the acting.” He holds up a deck of cards.
“Y’mean charades?” Alex asks. Soft.
“No.” Charles says. “The one I always win.”
And it’s you rolling your eyes now. “Y’mean the one you always cheat during?”
He leans forward. “I win.”
Theo laughs behind you.
Your sister tries to act out like Snow White. Falling over and laughing when Arthur misreads a motion. Theo keeps guessing too many times. And Alex’s impressions are almost too good.
And later…when the game’s over. You find yourself in the kitchen, stacking freshly cleaned glass and bowls onto the drying towel.
Humming to yourself.
And Charles leans against the doorway, arms crossed. Watching you with a lazy grin.
“You two are cute,” He says.
You roll your eyes. “Don’t be weird.”
“M’not.” He shrugs. Pushing off the archway and stepping closer. “It’s just…uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You let him touch you a lot.”
You pause with a glass in your hand. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
And he smiles. Tight. Not genuine. “Nothing.”
“You’re being weird.”
He raises his hands. Says something mocking of Theo.
And it has you gasp lightly. “You’re such an asshole.” You try not to smile.
He steps even closer.
“Yeah.” He whispers. “But I’m still your favorite.”
And then he’s stepping beside you, taking the glass from your hand and dries it.
Finishes washing the dishes with you in silence.
-
“You’re staring again.”
“Yeah. Looks like you’re having fun.”
“Jealous?”
“Of him? Never.”
Silence.
“But of you? Maybe.”
The bar is tucked into the cliffs. A grand view of the sea. Well lit by bulbs on strings.
Everyone’s dressed for the night. Sun-kissed. Hair soft and flows. Laughter echoing.
You’re on your second drink. Lightly buzzed. Your dress clinging to you just right. And you feel good. Happy.
Theo’s spinning you around. His hands warm on your waist as you move slowly in the corner of the makeshift dance floor. He’s not much of a dancer. But he’s trying. And in the end…that’s all that really matters.
He leans in close. “Y’look so beautiful.”
You smile. “Yeah?”
“I mean…y’always do.” He grins. “But-“
You don’t let him finish. Kiss him. Easy. Soft.
And when you pull back, you catch him in the corner of your eye.
Charles. At the bar.
Sitting with Arthur and Alex. Drink in front of him. Head tilted.
And he’s watching you. Not listening to either of them.
And when you’re eyes meet, he lifts his drink.
A challenge.
And later when you slip away from the loud music. He’s there. Leaning casually against the table. Shirt undone just enough to make your throat dry.
“You’re having fun.” He says. A statement. Not a question.
“Isn’t that the point?”
He nods. “Theo’s a big fan of spinning you around like you’re some prize.”
You roll your eyes. “It’s called dancing.”
“More like claiming.” He huffs under his breath.
And you look at him.
Hard.
Trying to read him.
“What’s your problem?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Eyes dropping to the floor. Then to his half empty drink.
“You kissed him.” He still isn’t looking at you.
You squint your eyes a little. “Yeah. I did.”
He swallows. Harsh. “Cool.”
You laugh. Dry. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m the ridiculous one?” He finally looks at you. “You’re out here making heart eyes at a guy you know won’t last more than another year.”
Your mouth falls open. “You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t need to know him. I know you.”
And he steps forward. Voice dropping.
“And I know that’s the same dress you wore the night I…”
“Charles.”
You both go quiet.
Alex’s frame flickers by. Laughter erupts. People keep dancing.
“Whatever. You’re right. Have fun with your fling.”
You narrow your eyes. “Jealous?”
He smiles. Sad. “Of him? Never.”
A moment of silence. And his gaze drops to your mouth. Stays there.
“But you? Maybe.”
-
The trip is winding down. Bags are beginning to be packed. Towels still damp. Nights slower. Everyone pretending that they’re not ready to be home.
The sky’s dark. Everyone’s inside finishing up packing. Winding down.
You slipped out.
Without thinking, ended up here. The lemon tree.
The same as always.
You hear footsteps. Uneven. Dragging.
And you turn. Charles.
He’s drunk. Swearing under his breath as he loses his footing. A bottle dangling from his hand. Shirtless. Barefoot.
His eyes meet yours and there’s something bitter in them. “Of course you’re here.”
You breathe. “You’re drunk.”
“A lil’ bit,” His words slur. “Celebrating your last night as someone else’s girl.”
You cross your arms. “We’re not doing this.”
But he’s already walking closer.
“Y’know….s’kinda funny.”
You don’t speak.
“How he holds your hand like its somethin’ delicate. Like you’re some untouchable thing.” He takes another step closer. Voice shaking.
“I’ve had you on your knees on the kitchen floor.” He says, bitter.
Your heart pounds. “Stop.”
“In the pool too,” He slurs. “Begged me to not pull out. Said you wanted to feel it. Feel me.”
He doesn’t even let you speak. Just rambles on. Slurring. Drunk. Angry.
“Had you in every room in that house,” He grunts. “Fingers shoved in you while our parents set the dinner table. Bent you over the bathroom sink. Panties still halfway up your thighs because you were too desperate to wait.”
“Charles…”
“The pantry…remember that one?” His voice drops lower. “You were so wet it dripped onto the floor. Had to stuff my fingers in your mouth so no one would hear you cryin while you came.”
“Don’t do this.”
“I fucking have to.” He snaps. “Because I can’t fucking sleep this entire trip knowing he gets to touch you.”
You swallow. “I’m not some prize.”
“No. You’re worse.” He spits. Stepping close enough that his chest is close enough and you have to crane your neck to look at him. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and you handed it to someone else like I never fucking existed.”
“Stop it.”
“He doesn’t know what its like to hear you lose control. How you cry when you come. Shaking and begging.”
And your breathing hard now.
He leans in. Bending down to be eye to eye.
“He gets to hold you in public.” His eyes are glaring. “And I got your thighs shaking around my face while you said my name like a fuckin’ prayer.”
You don’t speak. Can’t.
Silence for a few moments.
And then…
“Tell me.” He slurs, small grin tugged on the corner of his lips. “Tell me which of us you think about when you touch yourself.”
You slap him.
Hard.
And his face whips to the side. He breathes heavily. Like he’s trying not to cry. Or scream. Or grab your face and kiss you.
He swallows.
“He gets you in the daylight.”
You don’t speak.
“He gets the sunlight.”
And you whisper back. Soft. Heart breaking. “You only met me in the dark.”
You walk away barefoot. Tears forming in your eyes.
And Charles?
He stays at the lemon tree until sunrise. Alone.
-
You don’t talk for three months.
Which is considered a lifetime for you and Charles.
And then on a random weekday at nearly three in the morning, he sends a photo of the lemon tree in the winter.
No message beneath it.
You don’t answer.
Not for a day. Not even for three.
But then, on a random day the following week, you send a photo back.
A shot of your bedroom wall. A blurry photo of your hand holding a book in the corner.
Can’t sleep.
And the three dots appear before you can overthink it.
Me either.
And that’s how it begins.
You don’t FaceTime each other. At least, not at first.
You fall back into a rhythm neither of you thought would come back. Almost normal. The funny kind of banter you guys always had.
Charles broke up with Alex. You broke it off with Theo.
Neither of you really said why.
-
Age 25
“Don’t sit in my chair.”
“This isn’t your chair?”
“I licked it.”
“You haven’t changed.”
“You haven’t either.”
The sun is long gone. You’re curled up in one of the cushioned chairs on the front patio. A half finished glass of wine on the stone table beside you.
The front door swings open.
“Don’t sit in my chair”
He doesn’t even hesitate. Charles drops into the cushion next to you. Barefoot. Hoodie swallowing him.
“This isn’t your chair?”
“I licked it.”
He makes a funny face. “You haven’t changed.”
And you smile. “You haven’t either.”
And its easy. The way he stretches out, folding his arms behind his head. Like nothing ever happened.
You sip your wine.
His knee bumps into yours. Gaze on you.
“Thought it’d feel weird.”
“It did…for like,” You pause. Whisper. “For like a day.”
He holds your gaze. Doesnt look away. Smiles.
You break the tension first. “Maman said you still haven’t unpacked.”
He shrugs. “I’ll get there.”
“It’s been almost a whole week. That’s psychotic.”
“You’re just mad I haven’t asked to borrow your good smelling shampoo yet.”
“You are so not borrowing that.”
“I already did.”
You elbow him in the side. Laughing. Body shaking. He laughs with you. Head falling back.
He clears his throat. “I missed this.”
And you bump your knee back into his. “Rematch tomorrow?”
“Candy Land?”
“Don’t cheat.”
“I didn’t cheat.”
You narrow your eyes, smiling so hard. “You’re the worst.”
-
Monaco, Age 26
Your back hits the wall of his apartment.
Urgent. Focused.
Like he’s waited for forever to get you alone again. And doesn’t want to waste a single second of it.
His mouth is hot on yours. Hands at your hips. Your thighs. Slipped under your dress. And you’re clinging onto him like he’s a lifeline.
You can still taste the champagne on his skin. Skin warm from the race. But his mouth is desperate against you.
He groans against your lips. “Thought about this almost every night.”
You gasp when his fingers curl around your thigh. “Stop thinking.”
And he’s about to take you right there. Dress bunched at your waist. Pants halfway down. But then you press your hand to his chest.
He stills. Panting. Flushed.
“I need to say something first,” You breathe.
He waits. Hands still gripping you.
And you look up at him. The man who just won Monaco. The boy you’ve known who’s been chasing that dream since you can remember. The one you loved. Hated. Missed.
“Your dad would be so proud of you.” You whisper.
And you feel his chest rise. Jaw clench. Fingers curl harder into your skin.
“I’m serious.” Your voice is soft. “Not just because you won. But because of how you’ve carried him with you.”
And his eyes are glassy.
He swallows hard. “I heard him.” His voice soft. “Right after I saw that checkered flag.”
You bring your hand to his check, pressing your palm. And he leans into you.
And then he’s kissing you again. But its different.
Still hungry. But more grateful. More claiming.
He whispers I love you into your mouth. Again and again.
He whispers it when you tug his shirt over his head. When you lift your hips to pull your panties off.
Whispers it into your skin when he touches your bare skin. Like he’s seeing it all for the first time again.
And when he sinks in, he groans. Leaning over you, gripping you like you might just slip through his fingers.
“Y’feel like fuckin heaven.” He mutters against your lips. “You are heaven.”
And then he starts moving. Not fast.
Slow. Deep.
“Squeezing me like you missed it,” He huffs. “Did you, hm? Did you miss me?”
“Yes…” You pant. “Fuck…yes.”
He kisses your throat. Hot open mouthed kisses at the corner of your jaw. Hips rolling into you. Each thrust making you cry out.
“I love you.”
He thrusts.
“I love you.”
Another.
“Not just tonight. Not just now. Always.” He cries out.
And you clench around him. Yelling out as your orgasm builds too fast.
“C’mon that’s it..” He breathes. “Come for me. Let me feel it, yeah? Let me have it…please baby.”
“I love you,” You gasp. “I love you…I love you..”
And then you’re coming. Body shaking, mouth falling slack as he fucks you through it.
Following seconds later, spilling into you.
He collapses over you. “Fuck. You’re it for me.”
You hold him close.
-
“You still take it with milk?” He asks, voice soft.
You nod.
He hands you a mug. His fingers brushing against yours.
You sit on the couch together. Close.
“I keep thinking about the lemon tree,” You say. Cradling the mug in your hands.
He looks at you. “Yeah?”
You nod. “How many summers we sat there pretending everything was normal.”
He huffs a soft laugh. “We were idiots.”
You smile. “Still are.”
“I’ve loved you since we were kids.” He says quietly. “Since you made me sleep outside by the lemon tree because you said it wasn’t fair that only the birds got to live outside.”
You laugh, heart clenching.
“I’ve loved every version of you.” He continues. “The snot version. The barefoot version. The one who laughs too loud after a few drinks. The one who tried to date other people. The one who…the one who kissed other people in front of me because I waited too fucking long.”
You pause. Placing the mug down on the side table.
“I was scared that loving you would ruin everything.”
He pushes you hair behind your ear.
“I love you too.” You whisper. “You idiot.”
He laughs.
Leans in.
Kisses you.
-
Age 28
“This is where I almost lost you.”
“And now it’s where you’re asking to keep me?”
“No. Not asking.”
“Oh.”
Its late.
You’ve changed into one of Charles’s old shirts. Barefoot. As usual.
He finds you standing at the edge of the yard.
Where the broken stone path curves. Where the grass bends. Where the lemon tree leans.
You hear him before you see him. His footsteps always so loud.
Neither of you speak. He wraps his arms over your shoulders from behind. Your back to his chest as he nudges his head into the space between your shoulder and neck.
You hold his arms. Swaying to the light breeze. Staring at the lemon tree together.
“This is where I almost lost you.” He says.
And you glance at your side to him.
“And now it’s where you’re gonna ask to keep me?” You say, laughing. Teasing. Soft.
He smiles. Small. Shaky.
“No.” He says. Unwrapping his arms from you. “Not asking.”
And then you’re turning towards him.
And he drops to one knee.
Just like that.
Just him in the grass. Kneeling by the lemon tree. Choosing it to be the place where he does the most important thing he’ll ever do.
Your breath catches. And his hands tremble as he pulls a ring from his pocket.
“I wanted to do this right.” He says. “I want to choose you the way I should’ve all those years ago. Not just when it’s easy..or when we’re alone. But in front of every version of us we used to be.”
Your throat burns.
“I want every summer.” He whispers. Eyes glued to you. “Every winter. Every fight. Every make up. I want to kiss you goodnight when we’re tired. Want to raise mini versions of us.”
You laugh. You cry. And you’re nodding before he even finishes.
“I want you forever.”
And then finally, “Will you marry me?”
You fall to your knees right there in the grass. In front of the lemon tree. And kiss him hard enough that you both fall into it. Laughing. Like little kids again.
“Yes.” You whisper against his lips. “Always. In every lifetime…yes.”
taglist: @softtdaisy @zicosbitch @esmeextraa @evie-119 @teamnovalak @leclercmylove @skylyn-vais @tabisswag @annaswrites00 @chaconadine @sassy-persona @im-an-overthinker @ptrickbateman @angelique-rose-valentine @agmoon03 @whistlef0rthechoir @bvbyacid-666 @jenxjar @crazynyctophilia @theoriginalsfan124 xoxo love u all :)
#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 imagines#charles leclerc angst#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc one shot#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine
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It is possible to write with Blue Lock Bys (Yukimiya, Reo, Rin, Michael, Shidou and Isagi) with a s/o who has high libido. Please😫😈
of course darling hehe (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)
all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: pwp ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ), dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, begging, thigh humping (yukimiya), lingerie kink (reo), fingering (rin), oral sex f! receiving (kaiser), car sex, slight degredation (shidou), and body worship (isagi), please proceed with caution as this is smutty!!

➜ yukimiya kenyu would be such a tease with you, but like, in a knowing way ➜ like he'd pretend to jump at the opportunity to sate your appetite, but actions speak louder than words, and he would tease you by continuously putting sex off until you're actually dying for it ➜ he wants you begging for it, because then he can finally take care of you fully, caring for your every need with intense diligence ➜ he's very particular about enjoying every little detail about you, so by teasing you and drawing out your need so much, he thinks it helps him experience everything more intensely ➜ and it most certainly ensures you feel everything more intensely
"Kenyu, please~" you whine as you sit on his lap. "Please..." "What is it baby? he coos softly. It's sarcastic, you know, but still the rumble of his voice is something, and you're so desperate right now you'll take something over nothing any day of the week. Your hips begin to rub against his thighs in an unconscious effort for friction. Your eyes close as you rest your head on his shoulder. A small sigh of relief escapes your lips as Yukimiya allows the ministrations, and a tiny smile pulls at your mouth. At least there's this. Something over nothing, remember that- "Baby, I told you, at the end of this chapter, I'll-" Yukimiya's hand moves to you ass, gripping it tightly, trying to still your hips. "Kenyu, you said that three chapters ago!" your voice is high pitched and almost manic as a particularly sharp sensation of pleasure echoes through your body. You fist his shirt and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. "Mmmmm- please Ken, I . . . I can't take this anymore~" With a sigh, he closes his book. He sets it off to the side and wraps his arms around you, pulling you tighter against him. You begin kissing at his neck and jaw, your tongue darting out to taste his skin. You feel like you're floating, everything about Yukimiya furthering how deep you spiral into a sweet needy mess for him. "Okay, come on," he says sweetly, kissing your temple. "I'll give you exactly what you need my sweet baby." You can only preen at the idea that you're finally getting what you want as he lifts you bridal style from the couch and kicks the bedroom door closed behind you two with his heel.

➜ oh reo mikage my king ➜ i think reo's favorite hobby when it comes to people he cares about is spoiling them rotten, so if you have a high drive, he's all for it, 100% ➜ if you come calling, he'll drop everything for you. ➜ also, bonus! in my mind, this man has a thing for lingerie, so you better fucking believe that this man has an entire section of your closet just dedicated to different sets. ➜ maroon, black, lavender, navy blue, gold, in silk, satin, lace, and whatever else your mind can conjure up. If you can think it, he has probably bought it and fucked you in it ➜ after all, he has the time and the resources, and he's nothing if not generous, so why not make the most of it?
Reo ran his hand over his face, then threading his fingers through his hair. The hour was wearing on him, he could feel the ache settling into his bones. He stands and walks to a chaise in his study, pouring a drink for himself and sipping it. However, he barely gets two sips down his throat before the glass is being forced away from his lips. His eyes widen and he looks down to see you, with your fingers gently pushing at the rim of his glass. You're dressed in a lavender silk robe, the fabric hanging loosely over a peak of lace hugging your skin. His pupils enlarge as he takes in the teasing glimpse and you laugh softly at his expression. "I . . . thought you might be stressed," you say, taking the glass from him and setting it on a table next to the chaise. "I wanted to come help." He's silent for a moment, before a smirk tugging at his lips. A soft blush paints his cheeks and he cups your face lovingly in his hands. "Is that the only reason?" You pout and wrap your arms around his neck, giggling softly. "Hmmm . . . no~" And that's how you end up on the chaise, your legs bent over his shoulder. Your panties are pulled to the side, and your bra is still on, but your robe has been tossed somewhere far behind the two of you. Reo hovers above you, dragging moans and cries of pleasure from your mouth with each deep thrust into you. He's intoxicating, and you can't seem to get enough of him. And as you stare deep into his eyes, you know he feels the same. As you reach your peak for the third time that night, your eyes flutter closed, your back arches, and he welcomes it with a sharp inhale of his own and a kiss pressed against the hollow of your throat.

➜ i feel like rin itoshi's drive isn't the highest thing in the world ➜ like, he enjoys sex and he with you he really enjoys it, but it's never been his priority in the relationship ➜ also I feel like between soccer practices and other responsibilities he gets tired pretty easily ➜ that being said, he does still want to help you out whenever you get needy, so when he's too spent to use his cock, he resorts to his next best thing ➜ or in my opinion, my fav thing about him: his fingers
"Rin!" you gasp, clinging to his body like a madman. His fingers delve deftly inside of you, curling at all the right angles, and sending sparks of pure bliss throughout your lower body. When your hips give a particularly harsh buck, he tsks and grabs your ass with his free hand. "Stop moving so much," he growls. The deep cadence of his voice sends another thrill of pleasure in you and you nuzzle your head deep into neck. "Sorry, 't just feels so good," you mewl. "I love it so much . . . ah~!" A smirk appears on Rin's face, but just as quickly as it comes it vanishes. He licks his lips as he stares down at your disheveled appearance. Your hair is disheveled, and your bare from the waist down. You're not wearing a bra, so he can see the outlines of your chest as it heaves beneath your shirt, which hangs loosely over your frame. When you pull back from his neck, the look in your eyes almost makes him finish right then and there. They glisten with tears of pleasure, and are lidded. He can see the pleasure you're feeling etched into every line of your iris, and love is mixed within that. He feels a tight pull in his chest and he can't help himself from leaning down and catching your lips in his. His tongue immediately delves into your mouth, exploring your mouth. You moan softly into his mouth and he sighs. His fingers don't let up at all, continuing to tease and prod and touch every crevice it can reach. You start to writhe in his arms, but he holds fast, keeping you still. You have no choice but to succumb to his assault on your core. Rin kisses you as you finish on his hand, groaning as you go all sweet and pliant in his hands. When he pulls back, you slump against him like a rag doll and he huffs out a hoarse laugh. As you regain your bearings, he lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

➜ michael kaiser operates entirely on his own schedule, so to be honest, if he's not in the mood, you're kinda screwed ➜ but if he is in the mood, YOU are in for it ➜ all his want and desire make your neediness seem like nothing ➜ also, kaiser's got some good ass stamina, so if you set him off, you better pray your drive doesn't fizzle out because this man is getting his fill of you ➜ whether it's on his tongue or on his dick
You squeal as your boyfriend practically chucks you onto the bed. You look over your shoulder and your heart stops beating after you catch a glimpse of the sheer delight on his face. His smile is cocky and powerful and is so goddam sexy. You match his smile and flip onto your back, pushing yourself up on your forearms as Kaiser practically crawls on top of you. Kisses on your mouth turn to kisses on your neck, which turns into kisses along your chest, then your stomach, and before you know it, he's shirtless, you're naked, and his kissing the inside of your thighs. Your hands thread through his hair and he stares up at you, his blue eyes lidded and wanton. His tongue is gentle at first, testing the waters of your arousal, but soon he's lapping at you like a madman. His tongue works wonders on your core, leaving you fully satisfied but still achy for more at the same time. You know it doesn't make any sense, but the "Please" and the "More" still drip from your mouth even as he's delivering everything you've been craving since morning. And he is well aware of the effect he's having on you. You can feel his mouth twist into a smirk against you and it only drives you crazier. Your hands tug at his hair and he hisses, sending sweet vibrations through your core. Your whimpers and moans continue to build in pitch and volume, before finally, you're exploding on his tongue with a sharp call of his name. When Kaiser pulls back, he takes in your mussed appearance with a heat in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. His lips and chin glisten with your fluids. He licks his lips as he settles his hips in between your thighs and gives a sharp grind. "Don't give out on me just yet liebe," he coos. "I'm not done with you yet."

➜ shidou ryusei matches your freak the best on this whole list I think ➜ he will be down for whatever and whenever you want, but also . . . wherever you want ➜ shidou lives for the thrill of life, and chases the high of something new and exciting, so if you're high sex drive comes with promises of that, sign him the fuck up!
"Ryu!" you cry out as he yanks on your hair. The two of you have climbed into the backseat of the car. You're pressed up against the leather of the seats, with his chest flush against yours. You squeal and a slutty smile etches itself onto your face as he licks your neck. "Ryu~ ah . . . oh my god- slow down-ah." "Slow down, huh?" Shidou growls, his lips pulling into a smug smile. "Why~? You were just begging for it a few minutes ago." "I-I know, but- holy shit, you- ah!" You didn't even know it was possible for someone to fuck like this, but here he was. One hand perched on the roof of the car, the other holding the dip of your waist. His face moves from your neck to between the shoulder blades, and he litters kisses there, and sucks bruises down your spine. He travels back up to your shoulder and nips at the skin there, his hips never faltering once in their rhythm. "God I love this little body of yours so much," Shidou whispers hotly against the curve of your ear. "Every single time I see you, fuck, you don't even know how hard you make me." "Mmmmmm," your head tilts back, resting on his shoulder. "I think I do," you whine. "Yeah, can you feel it babygirl? It's all hard and deep inside of you isn't it?" he laughs, the sound sharp and hoarse in your ear. To anyone else, it might be grating, but all it's serving to do right is bridge you closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck! Ryuseiii, I'm gonna- uh! Wait- I, I-!" your eyes go cross and your body shakes with violent tremors. You bite down on your lip to try and keep quiet, but Shidou presses his hand to your lips, prying them open. "Come on now, lemme hear those sweet, sweet- fucking I'm gonna come too. Oh, fuck, fuck, yes. Fuck!" The two of you lean into one another, sweat slicking your bodies as you reach your peak together.

➜ my babygirl isagi yoichi is the easiest to get seduced by you ➜ i had this idea for a fic a long time ago where he comes home and your really needy and it was this whole ovulation type thing, but basically the point boils down to, if you want it isagi will give it ➜ in my mind, he's the most flexible to appeal to whatever type of sex you want, whether it be hard and rough or soft and loving ➜ as we all know he's super adaptable and that carries over during sex, so yay to anyone who's dating him!
Sunlight filters in through the window, the early morning glow giving everything a soft halo to it, including you. You and Isagi are laying on your sides, your chest pressed against his and your leg tossed across his hips. One of your arms are wrapped around his neck and the other trapped between your bodies, your hand intwined with his. A soft blush paints your cheeks and his, and you stare into Isagi's deep blue eyes through your lashes. His strokes are deep and send soft whimpers flowing from your lips. Each whisper of his name only sends Isagi down a path for more, more, more. "Pretty," you whisper, "you look so pretty like this Yoichi, mmm!" He huffs out a dry laugh and shakes his head. Compared to how you look right now- flushed cheeks, dilated eyes, plump lips ready for kissing- he can't imagine how he could even compare to your beauty. You clench down around him and he groans. "You feel so good," he sighs, closing his eyes. His hand squeezes yours and he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours. "Even this early in the morning . . . how do you always feel so good?" You giggle softly, the sound dissolving into a moan. "Mmmm . . . Yoichi, I love you . . . I love you so much- mmph!" He cuts you off with a firm kiss. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the end and an embarrassing threatens to escape his lips. For the sake of his dignity, this is the best move. His tongue brushes against yours, and your quick to return his kiss with just as much fervor. He finishes before you, but that's okay. As he says while your panting from the kiss, "It's still early. We have enough time for two- maybe three rounds. Are you okay to keep going?" All you can do is nod, and he continues earnestly, flipping you onto your back and ensuring this time you finish.

a/n: this was a beast to write, especially Shidou. Although I appreciate his freak, I fear I cannot match it as well as I would like lol, so I had to really brainstorm with his to make sure they all didn't just sound the same (˶˃⤙˂˶)
#blue lock#bllk#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#bllk smut#blue lock smut#yukimiya kenyu#yukimiya x reader#yukimiya kenyu x reader#yukimiya smut#reo mikage#reo x reader#mikage reo x reader#reo smut#itoshi rin#itoshi rin x reader#rin x reader#itoshi rin smut#rin smut#michael kaiser#kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x reader#kaiser smut#shidou ryusei#shidou x reader#shidou ryusei x reader#shidou smut#isagi yoichi#isagi yoichi x reader#isagi x reader
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How about Mark variants with a Cecil daughter reader? Thought it would be an interesting idea
VARIANTS!MARK GRAYSON & stedman! reader ✧˚. cw. canon typical violence/themes (ex. cannibalism)
you were your father's right hand. the perfect blend of danger and kindness, you were a rare bridge between the younger members of the guardians and the older guys at the GDA, your father included.
when the war started, it was unlike anything the earth encountered before and beyond what any country was prepared for. the GDA struggled to corral one invincible—a dozen was just overkill. if humanity did not have their indomitable spirit, surely governments would just lay down and die.
but not your dad and certainly not 🗣️🦅🤠 AMERICA 🗣️🦅🏈🗽!
so you were sent out into the field. unfortunately, you were getting the sense that they knew you... and weren't so kind to you in their dimensions...
"lookie here," mohawk mark grinned fearsomely as he floated above you. "little stedman. man, it's been so long since i've seen your face."
"why's that?" you cocked your gun, standing before him without a tense bone in your body. if cecil taught you anything, it was how to fake it til you make it.
"killed ya," he sang teasingly. "personally broke you in half for being a fucking pest. you were almost as annoying as your old man."
"mm." you hummed, ignoring the feeling of dread in your stomach. your father might have taught you to stand strong, but there was just something about staring death in the face that made a person anxious.
there was a high chance you could die here. they've all done it once before, apparently. great.
the other marks gathered over the original mark's residence. you were supposed to gather debbie and oliver, but intel was faulty and they had fled on their own. good for them, bad for you.
omnimark paused, studying you as he drew closer. his red cape wafted in the wind as he descended. it would have been majestic if he wasn't, you know... a murderer.
"i know you well enough to read you like a book. i can tell you're scared." onmimark observed you, swirling around you inquisitively.
this was bullshit. they were just playing with their food at this point, hovering around you like vultures too impatient to wait for your death.
"i call dibs," sinister shoved past omnimark, his lips curling into a salivating grin. "you were most delicious back home."
startled by the notion, you blinked and snapped, "what?"
"yeah. i ate you."
"what the fuck—"
"can it." prison mark bulldozed through his peers, aggravated by the chatter. "i'm the only one who hasn't got to kill them yet."
"so?" mohawk mark scoffed and rolled his eyes.
you shook your head, shrugging off your nerves and stepped back. aiming your gun directly between his skull, you tried to dismiss the condescending expression that you were faced with.
mohawk mark chuckled and walked forward, bending at the waist and pressing his forehead right up against the barrel.
"shoot me," he said lowly, a big smirk on his face. the more he looked at you, the more he saw the shake of your eyes, the more excited he got. it's been a while since he's gotten so much thrill from a kill, and you were the most thrilling of all. "you know you can't hurt me."
you glared at him, phasing out of sight in an instant. mark's eyes widened in faint surprise when you vanished.
you teleported directly to their sides, gun aiming down the canal of their ears. praying for all the strength and accuracy in the world, you let eight precise bullets fly, blasting their way down through their suits and into their ears.
they all stumbled through the air at the impact, shaking their head like maracas to locate the bullet.
"dumb bunny," mohawk mark snarled, brushing the blood from his nose as he grimaced in discomfort. "told you, you can't hurt us."
"i see their stupidity transcends dimensions," viltrumite mark commented plainly. he shook his head to one side in an attempt to dislodge the bullet like he was getting pool water out of his ear.
you swallowed a shaky breath and set your stance, whipping out the control for the implants. you hoped they were able to worm their way deep inside like you programmed them to.
"those aren't regular bullets, dickheads." you snapped, bringing your thumb down on the red button.
the piercing shrill of the underwater kaiju that disarmed the original mark rang through the air, pulsing into their skulls painfully. their flight stuttered before dropping completely, collapsing to the ground like flies. they clawed at their heads uselessly as the grating shriek made them go stupid.
you huffed a laugh when they all keeled over, in disbelief you managed to pull it off. then you just laughed for the hell of it. who's invincible now?
you could talk shit like your father; you just hoped his tendency to get his balls rocked right after he ran his mouth didn't pass on to you.
"big mistake leaving me breathing," you activated the dead man's switch and brought your foot down on the controller, smashing it to little pieces. "you had your chance to kill me. now it's my turn."
© invoncible
#invincible#invincible show#mark grayson#invincible x reader#mark grayson x reader#invincible season 3#mohawk mark#sinister mark#mohawk mark x reader#cecil stedman#viltrumite mark#omni mark#invincible variants x reader#invincible variants#invincible x fem reader
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Harley Quinn is Danny’s therapist
Danny needs therapy… desperately.
Jazz know this and acknowledges that it’s not a good idea for her to fill that role, so she goes out in search for the next best thing.
While in Gotham for college Jazz breaks into harley and ivys hideout and waits for them to return.
She waters the plants, she does the dishes and she even cooks some dinner setting the table just as they arrive.
The smells coming from the table prevent the immediate attack.
Jazz introduces herself and offers Harley the opportunity of a lifetime
“How would you like to be the personal therapist to a dead superhero?”
Of course jazz is more than willing to pay Harley (Danny gave her some Aztec gold for spending money while at school) but harley refuses to commit until she meets the kid
The 2 join jazz when she goes home for break, introducing them as some upperclassmen
(Her parents don’t really question it. Not bad parents just super accepting, they don’t know about Danny yet, though Danny stopped hiding it awhile ago)
Jazz brings them up to Danny’s room and knocks on the door
“Hey little brother, got a minute?”
A garbled yes comes from the other side and she opens the door to reveal half the room is missing and in its place is a gaping hole in reality where a large woman was cooking
“What’s up? New friends?” he asked looking down from where he was floating mid air reading a book about stars
“What’s with the portal?”
Danny just shrugged “lunch lady’s making spaghetti, want some?”
“Hell yeah!” Harley piped in. “Honey, I think we’re gonna get along swell”
Ivy just sighed.
The two move to amity so harley can have easy access to her favorite patient and Ivy ends up getting her own green house and somehow a job on the city council to reduce pollution and to push green areas in town
Do with this what you will
#danny phantom#ghost king danny#dc x dp#brain vomit#harley quinn#poison ivy#jazz fenton#Harley has enough material to write 4 thesis about trauma responses after 1 week#she is also sustained by amity chaos#she’s still a better driver than Jack
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White Horse - Chapter 9: November 2023 - Part 2
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, Jos Verstappen for once not being the bad guys.
Part 2 of November.
As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Victoria Verstappen
Isabelle: Hey Vic! Hope you are doing well!
Isabelle: I have a question: Do you happen to remember the breeder Max got Sassy and Jimmy from?
Victoria: Hi!! 🐱 I do! Why? Thinking about getting one?
Isabelle: Maybe… I was thinking about surprising Max for Christmas.
Victoria: 🥹🥹🥹
Victoria: That is the cutest thing I’ve heard all day.
Victoria: He’s going to melt.
Isabelle: Please don't tell him 🥺
Victoria: My lips are sealed!
Victoria: Also yes, I have the breeder’s number, she’s lovely
Victoria: She always has litters around winter!
Isabelle: perfect 🥹
Victoria: Max is going to lose his mind. I hope you're ready for him to cry about it and pretend he’s not crying.
Isabelle: I am emotionally prepared 😂
Victoria: Speaking of surprises
Victoria: I heard you quit your job???
Isabelle: Yeah.
Isabelle: A couple days ago. I just… couldn’t do it anymore.
Isabelle: I was miserable. They didn’t take me seriously.
Victoria: I had no idea, Belle.
Victoria: I’m proud of you.
Isabelle: Thank you. I’m kind of… floating now. Max calls it my “trophy wife sabbatical”.
Victoria: Well, if anybody deserves a Trophy Wife Sabbatical, it’s you 😂 And I bet my brother is thriving in your trophy wife era, don’t let him lie.
Isabelle: I love him so much it’s disgusting.
Victoria: You should
Victoria: He’s a better version of himself with you (Still dramatic, but better)
Isabelle: He’s been so patient
Isabelle: Like he never doubts I’ll figure it out
Isabelle: Even when I do
Victoria: You’ll figure it out, Belle. I don’t doubt that at all.
***
Leclerc Sibling Group Chat
(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles and Lorenzo)
Isabelle: Hey
Isabelle: Just letting you know I’m coming to Abu Dhabi.
Isabelle: Got my flight booked and hotel sorted.
Charles: nice!
Charles: see you there
Arthur: cool
Lorenzo: Safe flight!
***
The hum of the engines was steady, the cabin was dim, and Max was… well, Max.
Lando shifted restlessly in his seat across the aisle, flipping a bottle cap between his fingers., trying not to go completely insane with boredom.
Max, for his part, sat slouched across from him, hoodie pulled low over his face, legs stretched out like he owned the plane. Which he technically did.
They had been flying forever.
Vegas was a chaotic blur.
Abu Dhabi felt years away.
“Still alive?” Lando asked.
Max made a noncommittal grunt under his hoodie.
The jet bumped onto the runway in Nice for refueling, smooth as ever, and Max finally sat up, stretching.
"We're not getting off, are we?" Lando asked, yawning.
"Nope," Max said, pocketing his phone. "Just refueling."
Lando nodded, already thinking about maybe finding a Red Bull in the mini-fridge when the jet rolled to a stop.
Then the cabin door clicked.
And she stepped in.
Isabelle.
Dressed casually—jeans, sneakers, a soft pink sweater that somehow looked expensive without trying.
Her hair was loose. She carried a small overnight bag in one hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with the other.
Lando’s brain broke.
"You’re joking," he blurted, sitting bolt upright.
Isabelle smiled, calm and bright. "Hi, Lando."
Max didn't even react. He stood up casually, took her bag, and tucked it into the overhead like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“You’re—what—you’re coming to Abu Dhabi?” Lando stammered.
Isabelle raised an eyebrow, amused. “I’m watching my brother race. Isn’t that what family does?”
Lando opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
Because sure, technically that was a logical answer, except for the very large fact that she was coming to watch her brother race while secretly dating his biggest rival.
And Charles didn’t know.
Max dropped into the seat next to Isabelle like nothing was wrong, slinging his arm along the back of her seat, brushing her shoulder without thinking.
Lando stared.
This—
This was the first time he had really seen them.
Max and Isabelle.
Max and Isabelle.
Now that he knew, it was obvious.
The way Max’s entire body shifted when she was near — looser, softer, grounded.
The way Isabelle leaned subtly toward him without realizing it — like orbiting Max was the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t flashy.
It wasn’t the kind of relationship you noticed if you weren’t looking closely.
But now Lando could see it everywhere.
Max’s hand brushed her knuckles lightly, and Isabelle tilted her head toward him in that soft, familiar way, smiling just for him.
Lando felt like he’d been let in on the world’s most terrifying and beautiful secret.
He groaned loudly, dropping his head back against the seat.
"Charles is going to kill me when he finds out I knew," he said to no one in particular.
Max smirked, absolutely unbothered. "We’ll all be dead eventually. Might as well enjoy the flight."
Isabelle covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
Lando glared at them both. "You’re so chill about this!"
Isabelle leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. "Because there’s nothing to be not chill about."
"You say that now," Lando muttered. "Wait until your brother explodes."
Isabelle shrugged, a little more steel underneath her calm. "He’ll get over it."
Max smiled lazily beside her. "He’ll have to."
And for a moment, watching them — Isabelle with her quiet resolve, Max with his immovable certainty — Lando realized:
Maybe they weren’t reckless.
Maybe they weren’t hiding out of fear.
Maybe they were just... keeping something for themselves.
Private. Fierce. Unshakable.
Lando sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.
"If I end up collateral damage in your little love story," he said darkly, "I'm haunting you both."
Max just chuckled, settling back with Isabelle tucked under his arm like it was second nature.
"Deal," Max said. "And thanks for flying Air Max."
Lando groaned into his hands. "I'm going to have an ulcer before we even land."
Max laughed.
Isabelle just smiled and leaned into Max's side without thinking, his hand slipping instinctively to her knee.
And Lando, sitting across from them, realized grimly:
He was not surviving this weekend.
***
Group Chat: HELP ME
(Members: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, and Daniel Ricciardo)
Lando: she’s on the plane
Lando: she’s. on. the. plane.
Oscar: who
Daniel: oh god
Daniel: which “she” are we talking about
Daniel: please not the vegas bartender again
Lando: NO
Lando: Isabelle
Oscar: WHAT
Daniel: OH MY GOD
Oscar: LIKE
Oscar: THE Isabelle
Oscar: Charles’ sister Isabelle
Oscar: Max’s secret girlfriend Isabelle
Oscar: The one we’re all pretending not to know about Isabelle???
Lando: YES
Lando: she just got on the jet in NICE
Lando: she’s flying with us to ABU DHABI
Lando: I AM GOING TO DIE
Daniel: did max know she was coming??
Lando: he helped her with her bag and everything
Lando: like it was a normal day
Lando: like he didn’t just invite a LECLERC onto his PRIVATE JET
Lando: while secretly DATING HER
Oscar: we are all going to die
Daniel: please tell me you said something
Lando: she told me she’s just “watching her brother race”
Lando: like that’s not the most emotionally loaded thing anyone has ever said on a private jet
Oscar: I’m sweating
Oscar: Are you sweating?
Oscar: I feel like we should all be sweating
Daniel: what’s the plan??
Daniel: are we pretending we don’t know??
Daniel: are we spies now???
Lando: there is no plan
Lando: there’s only vibes
Lando: and the vibes are “Charles is going to murder us in cold blood”
Oscar: Max seems chill about it?
Lando: He’s so chill it’s terrifying
Lando: She sat down next to him and he just put his arm around her
Lando: Like she’s not the nuclear secret of the entire paddock
Daniel: He’s going to soft launch her in the paddock isn’t he
Daniel: you’re going to be THERE when it happens
Daniel: you’re IN the launch window
Lando: I didn’t sign up for this
Lando: I signed up for sim races and chaos memes
Lando: Not for hiding the Verstappen-Leclerc love story from a ticking Charles-shaped time bomb
Oscar: They’re so subtle though
Oscar: Like you wouldn’t even notice unless you KNOW
Daniel: And now you know
Daniel: And now you’re cursed
Lando: i literally said if i become collateral damage i’m haunting them both
Oscar: haunting Max would be so easy
Oscar: he already thinks every weird noise in his apartment is one of the cats
Daniel: tell Isabelle i want to be invited to the wedding if we survive this
Lando: i hate you both
Lando: they just shared a look across the cabin
Lando: i think they’re telepathic
Oscar: you’re already too deep
Oscar: we can’t help you now
Daniel: thoughts and prayers, mate
Daniel: and maybe wear orange so Charles hesitates when he comes for you
Lando: i’m gonna need more than orange
Lando: i’m gonna need a will
***
Oscar liked to think of himself as a calm guy.
Level-headed.
Mature.
Good under pressure.
But apparently, all that went out the window the second he spotted Isabelle Leclerc wandering through the paddock.
Because he knew.
He knew.
And she knew that he knew.
And he knew that she knew that he knew.
And now every single step he took felt like it was being broadcast on national television.
Oscar straightened his posture unnecessarily, like standing up straighter would make him less suspicious.
Isabelle was across the walkway, wearing a sundress, her paddock pass and a small, polite smile for every mechanic and engineer who said hello.
Completely casual.
Completely effortless.
Completely dating Max Verstappen and somehow nobody else knew.
Oscar stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual.
He would not be the one to blow their cover.
He would not be the guy who accidentally made eye contact and triggered a Red Bull-Charles Leclerc paddock war.
He focused on walking normally.
Breathing normally.
Existing normally.
It was fine.
Everything was fine.
He passed within a few meters of her, gave a small, casual nod.
The kind of nod that said "hey, I know you" without saying "hey, I know your secret relationship with Max Verstappen."
Isabelle caught his eye for a second — and her mouth twitched into the smallest, most knowing smile.
Oscar almost tripped over his own feet.
He coughed, pretended to check his watch even though he wasn’t wearing one, and kept moving like nothing happened.
Be normal, he told himself.
You’re a Formula 1 driver.
You drive at 300 kph for a living.
You can survive seeing Max’s secret girlfriend without spontaneously combusting.
Behind him, he swore he heard a soft laugh — hers, light and amused — and he decided he was never speaking of this again.
Not until it was safe.
Not until he was 5,000 miles away and absolutely certain Charles wouldn’t shank him with a champagne bottle.
Oscar made a sharp left turn toward the McLaren hospitality, muttering under his breath:
"Stay in your lane, Piastri. Stay alive."
***
The sun was sinking low, throwing long shadows across the paddock. Carlos leaned back against a concrete wall near the Ferrari motorhome, helmet balanced beside him, sipping slowly from a bottle of water as Charles scrolled aimlessly through his phone.
It was rare to get these moments—quiet, easy, just them.
But something had been itching at the back of Carlos’ mind lately.
A conversation with Lando.
Observations that were getting harder to ignore.
Something had been gnawing at Carlos for weeks now.
So Carlos spoke.
“Your sister’s been doing some pretty cool work lately,” he said casually.
Charles didn’t look up. “Yeah?”
“Architectural stuff. Monaco interiors. Heard she’s doing well.”
Charles gave a vague shrug. “I guess.”
Carlos waited for more. It didn’t come.
“She designed Max’s penthouse, right?” he pushed.
Charles made a noncommittal noise. “She helped with it or something. Picked out the furniture.”
Carlos blinked. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean—she didn’t just decorate. She designed it. Layouts. Custom interiors. Lighting plans. All of it.”
Charles frowned like he genuinely didn’t understand. “Okay…? So?”
Carlos stared at him. “So… that’s a big deal, mate.”
Charles tilted his head. “She’s always been good at decorating.”
Carlos was quiet for a second too long.
Decorating.
“Dios mio,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “You really don’t get it.”
“Get what?” Charles asked, clearly confused now. “She’s got a job, she likes it, I’m happy for her. What’s your point?”
“My point,” Carlos said, carefully measured, “is that you’re acting like she spent an afternoon picking paint colors. She designed that place. From scratch. Layouts. Architecture. Interior. Everything.”
Charles looked nonplussed. “She’s good at that stuff. ”
Carlos stared at him for a second.
Waiting for the punchline.
It didn’t come.
“You’re kidding,” Carlos said flatly.
Charles glanced over, frowning. “What?”
Carlos shook his head slowly. “That’s your sister, mate. Show a little respect. You talk about Isabelle like she’s some bored little sister playing pretend. Like her work isn’t real.”
Charles blinked. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said,” Carlos snapped. “You talk about what she does like it’s picking curtains. Like she’s not out there building a career people actually respect. You know how many people would kill to design a place like Max’s penthouse?”
Charles looked blank. “It’s just a flat.”
Carlos let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “No. It’s not. It’s a statement. A place Max trusted someone to shape. And your sister did that.”
Charles shrugged, still defensive. “Okay, well, good for her.”
Carlos gave him a look. “Good for her?”
“Yeah, I mean—I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Carlos exhaled, eyes narrowing slightly. “I want you to realize that she’s more than ‘my sister who’s good at decorating.’ I want you to see her. Because everyone else seems to.”
***
Text Messages: Lando Norris & Carlos Sainz Jr.
Carlos: What the hell.
Lando: oh no
Lando: what did I do.
Carlos: I talked to Charles.
Carlos: Charles talks about his sister like she’s some intern playing with paint samples
Carlos: She’s out here designing penthouses and he’s like “yeah she’s good at decorating”
Lando: oh my god 💀
Carlos: I wanted to shake him
Carlos: how do you not SEE your own sister
Carlos: She’s killing it
Carlos: She’s literally a better architect than half the guys building million dollar places in Monaco.
Lando: yeah
Lando: max definitely sees it lol
Carlos: Yeah, well, at least Max appreciates good work
Lando: not just her work, mate 😬
Carlos: What does that mean?
Lando: uh
Lando: nvm
Lando: forget i said anything
Carlos: LANDO.
Lando: max and isabelle are a thing okay!!!
Lando: they’ve been a thing for months!!
Carlos: Are you saying
Carlos: Max Verstappen
Carlos: Is dating Isabelle Leclerc?!
Lando: 😬😬😬😬😬
Carlos: dios mio
Carlos: does CHARLES know
Lando: oh absolutely not
Lando: zero clue
Lando: brain empty
Lando: we’re all going to die when he finds out
***
Group Chat: HELP ME
(Members: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo and Carlos Sainz Jr.)
Carlos: What is this?
Oscar: Oh no
Carlos: Lando, why am I here?
Carlos: Why do you keep dragging me deeper into this
Daniel: WELCOME CARLOS!!
Daniel: You’ve joined an elite group of people who are 😬 aware 😬
Oscar: This is a safe space for those who are emotionally compromised by Max dating Isabelle
Carlos: Are you people insane?
Lando: yes
Carlos: I just found out like 7 minutes ago.
Carlos: I’m still processing the fact that Max is dating Charles’ SISTER
Carlos: and that apparently EVERYONE BUT CHARLES KNOWS
Oscar: that’s the part that really gets you huh
Carlos: YES, OSCAR
Carlos: how has CHARLES not noticed his own sister is dating his rival
Daniel: Love is the greatest camouflage
Lando: bro what
Daniel: idk it sounded poetic
Carlos: I can’t believe you all kept this to yourselves
Oscar: I found out in the cheese aisle of a supermarket. He knew her jam preferences. And then he smiled at her. like softly
Lando: Max in love is terrifying
Lando: he’s… emotionally functional
Daniel: I personally love this era for him
Daniel: boyfriend max is my favorite max
Daniel: max 2.0: will fight you and then bring you tea
Carlos: I can’t be part of this
Carlos: i’m not stable enough
Carlos: i just yelled at charles for not respecting her work and NOW I KNOW SHE’S DESIGNING MAX’S APARTMENT BECAUSE THEY’RE TOGETHER
Carlos: I AM HIS TEAMMATE.
Oscar: oh no
Lando: oh my god
Daniel: this is my favorite plot twist
Carlos: I’m going to lie down in the garage and never get up
Lando: welcome to the group
Lando: you’ll get used to the emotional whiplash
Oscar: We’re all just waiting for the day Charles finds out and the world ends
Daniel: we should get matching t-shirts
Daniel: i survived the verstappen-leclerc revelation and all i got was anxiety
***
The paddock was a flurry of noise—engine whines, media chatter— and Isabelle Leclerc was sipping iced water and trying not to sweat through her linen dress. One of Max’s linen shirts—stolen and knotted over her waist—was shielding her from the worst of the heat, and her sunglasses were perched high in her hair.
She smiled politely when people passed, waved when engineers greeted her, and genuinely lit up when Gianpiero Lambiase came to say hello.
“Hey,” GP said, clearly mid-break between meetings. “I heard you have opinions.”
Isabelle tilted her head. “About?”
“Backsplash tiles,” he said, completely serious. “Kitchen remodel. My wife thinks I’m hopeless.”
Isabelle laughed, genuinely delighted. “I do have opinions. And Pinterest boards, if you’re interested.”
GP looked genuinely relieved. “Bless you. She keeps saying she wants something that feels 'European farmhouse meets modern desert' and I have no idea what that means.”
“It means she wants matte finish tiles, not glossy,” Isabelle said immediately. “And don’t pick anything with faux distressing. It always looks cheap.”
GP raised both eyebrows, intrigued. “Okay. I’ll tell her I consulted an expert.”
They chatted for a few more minutes—about grout colors, countertop edges, the horrors of open shelving—before GP was called away to a strategy meeting.
Isabelle turned back to her water and tried to will the heat away.
And then—
“Can I talk to you?”
She looked up.
Charles. Sunglasses on, jaw tight, expression unreadable.
“Sure,” she said cautiously, standing. “Everything okay?”
He didn’t answer. Just jerked his chin in the direction of the quieter walkway near the back of the paddock. She followed, unease creeping up her spine.
When they reached the shaded area, Charles turned on her sharply.
“Seriously, Isabelle?”
She blinked. “I—what?”
“GP?” he snapped.
Her eyebrows flew up. “What about him?”
“You’re flirting with Max’s engineer now?”
Isabelle just… stared.
“Are you serious right now?” she asked.
Charles crossed his arms. “He’s married, Isa.”
“Oh my god,” she said, incredulous. “You think I’m flirting with him?”
Charles didn’t respond, which was answer enough.
Isabelle took a step back. “You think I’m—what, exactly? A homewrecker? Some desperate little paddock groupie trying to sleep her way around Red Bull?”
“I didn’t say that,” he bit out, but his tone said otherwise.
“You didn’t have to!” she snapped. “You said it with your face. And your judgmental little ‘big brother’ voice.”
Charles looked uncomfortable for the first time, but didn’t back down. “It’s not about judging you. It’s about how it looks.”
“Oh, how it looks?” Isabelle laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You’re really going to lecture me on appearances? You—whose own dating history has been very well documented—are suddenly the morality police?”
“That’s different,” he muttered.
“No, it’s not.” She stepped in close, her voice lower now. “I wasn’t flirting. GP and I were talking about backsplash tiles. For his kitchen remodel. With his wife. Because, surprise, I have a degree and actual taste and people ask for my opinion.”
Charles blinked.
“I cannot believe you think so little of me,” she said, voice shaking. “Do you really think I’d put myself in that position? That I’d disrespect someone’s marriage like that?”
His jaw clenched, guilt flickering behind his eyes. “I just—saw you. Laughing. And I assumed—”
“Well maybe stop assuming, Charles.” Her voice broke, and she quickly looked away. “You assume the worst. You assume I’m… what? Naive? Reckless? Looking for attention? You never give me the benefit of the doubt.”
Charles swallowed. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”
“By calling me a homewrecker?”
He winced.
Isabelle stepped back, the chill in the air suddenly sharper. “I don’t need your protection, Charles. I need your respect.”
They stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of her words settling between them like dust.
“I came to support you,” she said softly. “ And now I wish I’d stayed home.”
“And for the record,” Isabelle said, stepping past him, “if I was flirting with someone, I wouldn’t be flirting with a guy, who is holding a ‘World’s Best Dad’ travel mug and has a wedding band on his finger.”
***
The door clicked softly behind him as Max stepped into the suite, pulling his cap off and running a hand through his hair.
It had been a long, sticky day at the track — race prep, debriefs, heat clinging to everything — and all he wanted was to see her.
"Belle?" he called gently.
No answer.
He frowned, dropping his keys and phone onto the entry table, kicking off his shoes. The suite was mostly dark, save for the dim bedside lamp glowing through the half-closed bedroom door.
Max pushed it open carefully.
And there she was.
Isabelle sat curled up on the edge of the bed, still wearing her soft linen dress, her head bowed low.
Her shoulders were shaking.
Max’s heart dropped.
"Belle," he said immediately, voice low and sharp with concern, crossing the room in three quick strides. "Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?"
She shook her head, wiping at her face furiously with the sleeve of his shirt, like she was trying to erase the evidence.
It didn’t work.
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes red-rimmed, mouth trembling in that way that always gutted him.
Max sat down beside her, close but not crowding her, careful.
He knew her well enough to know she needed a second before he touched her.
Isabelle dragged in a shaky breath. "It’s stupid."
"Nothing that makes you cry is stupid," Max said firmly.
She let out a broken laugh. "Tell that to your future brother-in-law."
Max’s jaw clenched instantly. "Charles?"
Isabelle nodded miserably.
Max didn’t even try to temper the fury that flared in his chest.
"What did he say?" His voice was low, dangerous.
She shook her head again, sniffling. "He—he saw me talking to GP and he thought I was flirting with him."
Max blinked.
And then, against every better instinct, he let out a short, incredulous laugh.
Because seriously?
"Gianpiero Lambiase? My Race Engineer?!" Max said, completely baffled. "He thought you were flirting with GP?"
Isabelle let out a choked noise — somewhere between a sob and a laugh — and Max immediately reached out, pulling her carefully into his chest.
She came willingly, curling into him like she always did, her fists bunching into his shirt.
Max rested his chin on top of her head, his arms wrapped tight around her.
"You were talking about tile grout and kitchen backsplash colors," he muttered into her hair, still half-laughing, half-furious, because GP had told him all about that. And how Isabelle had apparently solved the tile dilemma in the Lambiase Household. "And Charles thought you were seducing a man who literally carries a ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug everywhere?"
Isabelle gave a miserable little laugh through her tears, burying her face in her hands. "I feel horrible. Like I besmirched GP’s honor."
Max full-on laughed this time, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders and tugging her into his chest.
"Belle," he said, shaking his head against her hair, "you didn’t besmirch anything. You didn’t do anything wrong."
She gave a tiny groan of despair. "His poor wife. I owe her an apology email. And a free kitchen consultation."
Max kissed the top of her head. "His wife’s will probably be crying laughing when she hears this story. She knows what she married — a man who brings spreadsheet printouts to pick out a dishwasher."
That finally coaxed a watery chuckle from her.
"Charles said it looked bad," Isabelle whispered miserably. "Like I was being careless."
Max closed his eyes for a second, breathing through the anger pulsing hot under his skin.
Careless.
Isabelle — who second-guessed every step she took, every word she said.
Isabelle — who bent over backwards to never make anyone uncomfortable.
Isabelle — who had spent years shrinking herself so no one could accuse her of taking up too much space.
Careless.
It made him want to throw something.
"You," Max said, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye, "are the least careless person I have ever met."
She gave him a watery little smile.
"And for the record," Max added, thumb brushing under her damp cheekbone, "if you were actually trying to flirt with someone, it wouldn’t be a married engineer who spends his lunch break arguing about countertop materials and backsplash tiles."
Isabelle laughed properly then, the sound soft and real against his chest.
"There’s my girl," Max murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.
He rocked them gently for a second, grounding her, feeling the last of the tension bleed out of her body.
"You know what?" he said after a beat, voice lighter. "Next time Charles wants to accuse you of something, make it worth it."
She sniffed, laughing again. "Like what?"
Max shrugged, grinning. "Next time? Flirt with me in the garage. Right in front of him. Really traumatize him."
Isabelle snorted against his chest. "You’re evil."
"Only for you," Max said, kissing the side of her head again. "And besides, you’re much better at flirting than you think."
She lifted her head slightly, giving him a skeptical look.
Max smirked, leaning in until their noses brushed. "You got me, didn’t you?"
And Isabelle, finally smiling for real, kissed him — slow, lingering — like she was remembering exactly how.
Max kissed her back just as fiercely, every slow sweep of his mouth saying what he couldn’t put into words:
I see you. I trust you. I love you.
And he swore, next time anyone made her cry — even Charles — they’d have to go through him first.
And Max Verstappen didn’t lose.
****
Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie
Isabelle: Remind me again why I came to this race
Emilie: oh no. What happened? Do i need bail money?
Isabelle: I had a fight with Charles. He thought I was flirting with GP. Because we were talking about backsplash tiles for his KITCHEN with his WIFE.
Emilie: I’m going to set something on fire
Isabelle: Please don’t. Max already looks like he wants to fight him.
Emilie: Good.
Emilie: honestly give me 20 minutes and a sharp object
Isabelle: Em
Emilie: No because it’s insane
Emilie: He sees you laughing once and thinks you’re a scandal
Emilie: But when Arthur was publicly dating 13 supermodels a year it’s “boys will be boys”.
Isabelle: I know. It’s just exhausting
Emilie: He’s exhausting. You’re a ray of sunshine. He’s lucky to breathe the same air as you.
Isabelle: You’re very dramatic
Emilie: And you love me for it
Isabelle: I do
Isabelle: Max was perfect about it
Emilie: Of course he was. He worships the ground you walk on
Emilie: Stay strong, stay hydrated and if Charles says anything else dumb, just smile and picture me flipping him off from 5000 miles away
Isabelle: That actually helps
Emilie: Good. Love you.
Isabelle: love you too.
***
Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase.
Max: You homewrecker
GP: What???
Max: Charles thinks you’re trying to steal my girlfriend 😂
GP: WHAT
GP: MAX WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT
Max: He thought Belle was flirting with you in the paddock
GP: WE WERE TALKING ABOUT BACKSPLASH TILES
GP: AND GROUT COLORS
Max: I know
Max: Belle told me
Max: I’m still laughing
Max: apparently "matte finish" is code for seduction now
GP: MAX
GP: SHE CRITIQUED MY TILE SAMPLE CHOICES
GP: I TOOK NOTES
GP: I SAID THE WORD “NEUTRAL GROUT”
Max: Dangerous game you’re playing, mate
Max: Luring innocent women with your opinions on subway tile.
GP: I’m MARRIED
GP: HAPPILY
GP: FOR FIFTEEN YEARS
GP: I WAS ASKING FOR DESIGN HELP BECAUSE MY WIFE SAID I HAVE “DAD BRAIN” AND NO TASTE
Max: Well now you’ve been accused of seducing my girlfriend with your “dad brain”
Max: big scandal, very dramatic
GP: I just wanted help choosing tile
Max: It gets better
Max: Belle is mortified
Max: She keeps saying she “besmirched your honour” and brought shame upon your grout consultation
GP: ...oh my god
GP: please tell her she did no such thing
GP: she saved me
GP: her recommendation singlehandedly ended a three-week argument with my wife
Max: She will be delighted to hear that
Max: She was preparing to write a formal apology email. And offer to design your whole kitchen free of charge.
GP: Tell her I am in awe
GP: and also a little afraid
GP: She is frighteningly good at backsplash logic
Max: She is.
Max: That’s one of the many, many reasons why I love her.
GP: Next time can we please avoid dragging me into romantic drama over interior finishes
Max: No promises
Max: You’re too charming when you talk grout
**
Text Messages: Gianpiero Lambiase & Eloisa Lambiase
GP: You are not going to believe what happened today
Eloisa: Did Max accidentally make another engineer cry?
GP: No, worse
GP: I have been accused of seducing Max’s girlfriend
Eloisa: I— what
GP: CHARLES LECLERC
GP: thought i was FLIRTING
GP: with HIS SISTER
GP: BECAUSE I ASKED FOR BACKSPLASH TILE ADVICE
Eloisa: I’M SORRY WHAT
Eloisa: YOU SEDUCED ISABELLE LECLERC???
GP: I DIDN’T SEDUCE ANYONE
GP: I was just asking for backsplash advice!
Eloisa: YOU GOT ACCUSED OF FLIRTING DURING A BACKSPLASH CHAT???
GP: It was in the paddock
GP: Charles saw us talking
GP: Apparently Isabelle laughed at something I said
GP: Now she’s a homewrecker and I tried to seduce her.
Eloisa: OH MY GOD I’M CRYING
GP: Max thinks it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened
GP: He called me "dangerous" and said I was “seducing her by talking about matte finish tiles”
GP: I want to resign
Eloisa: NO
Eloisa: YOU’RE FAMOUS NOW
Eloisa: YOU’RE THE F1 PADDOCK’S MOST DESIRED MAN
GP: Please stop
GP: I was holding my “World’s Best Dad” mug
GP: She was giving professional recommendations
Eloisa: You WERE
Eloisa: and apparently it was HOT
GP: I’m blocking you
Eloisa: No you’re not
Eloisa: You’re my husband, you sexy kitchen-reno Casanova
GP: Max said Isabelle feels terrible and thinks she “besmirched my honour”
Eloisa: please tell her she SAVED us
Eloisa: your choices were horrifying before she stepped in
Eloisa: She’s invited to all future home improvement debates
Eloisa: I trust her judgement more than yours
GP: Apparently she offered to redesign our entire kitchen as an apology.
Eloisa: DO NOT LET HER TAKE THAT BACK
Eloisa: TAKE THE FREE DESIGN WORK
Eloisa: SHE HAS TASTE AND I AM TIRED OF ARGUING ABOUT SUBWAY TILE
GP: I feel like I’ve lost control of my life
Eloisa: You did the moment you started saying “grout lines” like it was sexy
GP: …you used to find that sexy
Eloisa: I still do
Eloisa: Now let the nice woman redesign our kitchen and stop making Max cry with your effortless charm
Eloisa: We’ll have STUNNING countertops.
***
Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Jos Verstappen
Max: Can you do me a favor tomorrow?
Jos: Depends what it is.
Max: Keep an eye on Belle in the paddock for me
Max: I’ll be busy with Race prep and I don't want her stuck alone with the circus.
Jos: Something happen?
Max: Charles was an idiot. Made her cry. Thought she was flirting with GP.
Jos: ...what?
Max: They were talking about backsplash tiles. Tiles, dad
Max: And Charles thought she was seducing him
Max: GP has a wife and a mug that says "world’s best dad".
Max: Belle is mortified and doesn’t want to make a scene but I’d feel better if someone was around.
Jos: Charles is lucky she’s your girlfriend and not mine or i’d have knocked him into next week.
Max: Thanks, dad.
Max: So, you’ll be around?
Jos: Yeah.
Jos: I like her
Max: you do?
Jos: Yes.
Jos: She’s calm
Jos: Doesn’t care about the attention.
Jos: Treats you like a person, not a trophy.
Jos: And she’s polite to everyone.
Jos: You need that, especially with this life
Jos: and she reminds me of your mother.
Jos: The good parts.
Max: Thanks.
Jos: Don’t thank me
Jos: If her brother opens his mouth again, I won’t be as diplomatic as you
Max: Copy that
Jos: Go to sleep. You have a race tomorrow.
***
The sun was barely high enough to cast proper shadows across the paddock yet, but already the place was humming — engines firing up in garages, cameras being unpacked, people moving with that sharp, coiled energy that only came on race days.
Isabelle kept her head down as she crossed toward the Ferrari motorhome, clutching her coffee cup like a lifeline.
She had barely slept.
It wasn’t Charles’ words from yesterday that lingered — it was the old, familiar sting they brought back.
The feeling of being out of place.
Not enough.
Too much.
She was rounding a corner when a voice cut across her path.
"Belle."
She froze.
Turned slowly.
Jos Verstappen stood there.
Arms crossed.
Expression like granite.
For a wild second, Isabelle panicked.
Had she done something wrong?
Was this about... something?
Everything?
Jos jerked his chin toward the side of the hospitality tent.
"Come."
Not a request.
Heart thudding, she followed him.
They walked in silence along the quieter edge of the paddock, boots scuffing against the concrete, the buzz of early morning preparations filling the air around them.
Finally, Jos stopped near a low concrete wall, leaned one elbow on it, and looked at her.
Not soft.
Not kind.
Just... assessing.
"You’re not weak," he said, voice blunt.
Isabelle blinked. "I—thank you?"
Jos grunted. "Don’t let them treat you like you are."
Isabelle opened her mouth, but he held up a hand to cut her off.
"Doesn’t matter what your brother says. Doesn’t matter what anyone sees. You know who you are. You know who you stand next to."
She swallowed hard.
Jos squinted at her, like checking if she understood.
"You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone," he said. "Not even family."
He straightened then, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve like the conversation wasn’t weighing the air between them.
"And if anyone gives you trouble today," Jos added, voice low and deliberate, "tell them they can answer to me."
Isabelle stared at him.
Jos Verstappen — who scared half the paddock with a look — had just offered to fight her battles.
Or at least stand behind her, silent and immovable, like a wall no one could knock down.
Her throat tightened unexpectedly.
Jos shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the lingering emotions.
"You’re good for him," he said roughly. "Better than he deserves, maybe."
Isabelle pressed her lips together hard.
Jos glanced away toward the garages, then back at her.
"Head up," he said. "Eyes forward. You’re a Verstappen now."
And with a short nod — like it was settled, permanent, not up for discussion — he turned and walked off, leaving her standing there, stunned, the weight of his words hitting harder than any podium speech or paddock rumor ever could.
A Verstappen.
She let out a shaky breath, squaring her shoulders.
Head up. Eyes forward.
She could do that.
***
Post Race Press Conference -Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2023
Moderator: Congratulations, gentlemen. Max, let’s start with you — your 19th win of the season, an incredible dominant performance. How does it feel wrapping up the year on such a high?
Max Verstappen: It feels good. The team did an amazing job, as always. Car was strong all weekend. I’m happy to end the season this way.
Moderator: Charles, a strong second place today. How would you summarize your season?
Charles: (smiling, relaxed) It’s been a challenging year, but I think we made good progress toward the end. P2 today was the maximum. Happy to finish like this, and looking forward to building next season.
Moderator: George, third place for you today — and second for Mercedes in the Constructors'. Happy with that result?
George: (nods) Yeah, definitely. We knew coming into this weekend it would be tight, so I’m proud of the whole team. Good momentum heading into the winter break.
Moderator: For all three — with it being the last race of the season, a lot of families and friends are here this weekend. How much does it mean to have that kind of support?
Charles: (nodding) It’s always special. Seeing familiar faces after the race, sharing the moment — it makes all the difference.
George: (agreeing quickly) Yeah, it’s important. The season’s so long — having people show up and stick by you is massive.
Max: (voice sharp, no smile) It’s nice. Really nice when the people you care about show up. And I think that is something we need appreciate more and shouldn’t take for granted. It makes you realize who's paying attention — and who’s not.
(Charles stiffens slightly, casting a sidelong glance at Max, visibly confused. George starts tapping his fingers quietly against his knee like he’s trying to physically distract himself.)
Moderator: Moving on—Charles, you mentioned building for next season. Where do you think Ferrari needs to improve to challenge Red Bull more consistently?
Charles: I think we’ve made steps forward with race pace. But qualifying is still critical. We have to start stronger next year.
(Max’s mouth twitches — not quite a smile.)
Moderator: George, same question for you regarding Mercedes?
George: (relieved to be asked something normal) Yeah, similar. We’re closing the gap, but there’s still work to do. Everyone’s going to push hard over the winter.
Moderator: Charles, what was the most challenging part of your race today?
Charles: Uh, tire management, probably. We tried a different strategy and it wasn’t perfect. But we’ll learn from it and come back stronger next year.
Max: (flatly, without looking at him) Learning is important. Assuming you recognize the problem.
(George visibly bites his cheek to keep from reacting.)
Moderator: (to George, desperate for a less icy subject) George, what does the off-season look like for you?
George: (relieved) Um—sleep. Lots of sleep. Definitely time with family and friends. Just recharge and come back ready.
Moderator: And Charles?
Charles: (smiling automatically) Spending time with family and friends. Relaxing. Recharging.
Max: (calm, but brutal) Spending time with people who actually care about you. (pause) Quality over quantity.
(Dead silence in the room.)
(George stares at the floor like it might swallow him.)
(Charles looks genuinely confused.)
Moderator: (quickly) Alright, thank you, gentlemen. That’s all for today.
***
Meanwhile on Twitter:
@/f1oversteer: Why was Max looking at charles like he wanted to fistfight him during the press conference???
@/paddocktea: not to be dramatic but Max verstappen’s post-race energy was "say one more word and i'll launch you into the sun" and it was entirely directed at charles leclerc. what is going ON
@/racingincircles: ok but the way Max said "the people who actually show up" while STARING at charles... 😭😭😭 what did he mean by that
@/gp2engine: did charles and Max have a secret fistfight behind the garages or something why is the vibe so violent
@/monaco_mafia: george sitting in the middle of Max and charles looking like a victorian child watching his parents argue at dinner
@/f1clownery: i know charles is confused but the rest of us are confused too king WHO UPSET MAX
@/wheelsextension: i’m sorry but charles leclerc’s energy today was so "what did i do" and Max’s was "you know exactly what you did"... except i don't think he does and neither do we… i need answers
@pitlanepettiness: sources (vibes) are saying something WILD is going down behind the scenes and i for one am ready for the netflix edit
@fastlanefreaks: you could feel the beef through the screen. i am eating it up but also terrified.
@motorsportmess: Max smiling tightly while charles is visibly sweating and george is trying to disappear into the floorboards... academy award winning drama
@/griddyforgp: Max throwing shade like it's personal and charles sitting there looking like he just got accused of murder
@/ferrarifangirl: charles: 😐 Max: 🙂🔪 george: 👀👟💨
@/f1sillyseason: petition for someone to tell us the FULL tea immediately i am not surviving the offseason otherwise
@/maxstappen44: someone check the abu dhabi paddock for the body bc Max BURIED charles during that conference and no one even noticed at first
@/charlesupportgroup: me watching Max roast my boy alive while he looks increasingly confused 👁️👄👁️
@/f1updates: sources in the paddock say “everyone’s being normal” but the vibes are off like someone’s about to get unfollowed on instagram levels of off
@/abudhabidrama: you are telling me Max verstappen and charles leclerc are beefing and i don't even get a backstory??? this is abuse
@/f1wagsleaks: what the actual hell is going on between Max and charles?? Max had BEEF ENERGY in that press conference and charles looked like he had no idea why i’m obsessed
@/formulachaos: MAX: “It’s nice when the people in your life actually show up to support you :)” stares directly at Charles CHARLES: 🧍♂️ GEORGE: 👀🚪
@/postracegossip: this is officially the most tense podium press conference i’ve ever seen someone bring popcorn and possibly a referee
@/notdutchjustfast: someone explain to me like I’m five: Why is Max acting like Charles ran over his cat and why is Charles acting like he doesn’t remember what a cat is
@/f1girliesunite: this has nothing to do with racing and everything to do with a woman, I feel it
@/danriccsmilez:George Russell is the human equivalent of the “I do not see it” meme rn He saw whatever drama that was and said “not my circus, not my millionaires”
@/mclarenshadowstalker: Lando. speak now. We know you know TELL US
@/chaosandcheckered: Next year’s Drive to Survive is going to need a trigger warning
***
Text Messages: George Russell & Alex Albon
George: Mate, do you know what’s going on between max and charles
Alex: what Alex: no Alex: why
George: Press conference was WEIRD George: Max basically roasted him alive George: Charles looked like he didn’t even know why
Alex: lol Alex: no idea Alex: i wasn’t even paying attentio
George: alex George: seriously George: it was tense
Alex: how tense are we talking Alex: like Alex: mild paddock gossip tense Alex: or Alex: security might need to intervene tense
George: somewhere in the middle George: like "passive aggressive christmas dinner" levels of tense
Alex: oof Alex: hate that
George: i swear max was this close to throwing a chair
Alex: charles wouldn’t survive that Alex: he’d just start apologizing and not know why
George: that’s the problem George: he looked genuinely confused
Alex: 😂😂 Alex: classic
George: seriously George: if you hear anything George: tell me George: i don’t want to get blindsided if they start swinging in parc fermé
Alex: lmao Alex: will keep ears open Alex: but rn all i know is Alex: max is mad Alex: charles is confused Alex: george is stressed
George: useless
Alex: you knew that when you texted me 🫶
***
Text Messages: George Russell & Lando Norris
George: Mate George: What’s going on with max and charles
Lando: Uh Lando: what do you mean
George: don’t play dumb George: press conference was insane George: max basically called him fake to his face
Lando: 👀 Lando: i mean Lando: uh Lando: i didn’t really notice anything
George: lando
Lando: maybe max’s just tired?? Lando: long season Lando: lots of emotions you know 😅
George: he looked ready to rip someone’s head off
Lando: 😬 Lando: well Lando: maybe he just really cares about honesty and support and…stuff
George: what do you know
Lando: nothing
George: lando.
Lando: i don’t know anything i can legally say
George: what does that even mean
Lando: listen mate Lando: for your own safety Lando: stay out of it
George: out of what??
Lando: THE VORTEX
George: what vortex
Lando: the verstappen-leclerc vortex Lando: you don’t want to get sucked in
George: lando. George: what did max do George: what did charles do
Lando: max didn’t do anything Lando: charles didn’t do anything Lando: everyone’s innocent Lando: and i’m especially innocent
George: you’re being very suspicious
Lando: i’m being ALIVE Lando: which is what you should focus on
George: so i should be worried
Lando: VERY worried Lando: but not about you Lando: about your proximity to the drama
George: brilliant George: great George: fantastic
Lando: good chat 😌
George: remind me to never trust you again
Lando: you never should’ve started
***
Fernando Alonso liked to think he was good at reading people.
Came with the territory — two decades in Formula 1, countless teammates, politics thicker than engine oil. You survived by knowing who was lying, who was hiding something, who was seconds from setting fire to their own garage.
And today? Today, something was off.
He was leaning casually against the Aston Martin hospitality wall, sipping a tiny, bitter espresso, when he saw it.
Max Verstappen. Walking through the paddock. Not alone.
Isabelle Leclerc, right beside him.
Nothing scandalous. No hand-holding, no grand gestures. Just two people walking.
But Max — Max, who barely let people breathe the same air as him — was walking close. Protective. Easy. Like it wasn’t new. Like it wasn’t a secret.
Fernando narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses.
Interesting.
He watched them — Max steering her casually through the chaos with a light touch at the small of her back, Isabelle laughing at something he said, bright and unbothered.
Fernando turned slightly, caught a glimpse of Charles Leclerc a few garages down — not noticing any of this.
More interesting.
Later, during media rounds, he saw Lando Norris visibly flinch when someone mentioned Isabelle's name near a microphone.
And Fernando — two-time world champion, professional paddock gossip connoisseur — put it all together.
After all, he hadn’t survived in this sport for nothing.
He caught Max alone for a moment near the Red Bull hospitality, standing with that casual, lazy posture that fooled no one.
Fernando strolled up, espresso in hand.
"Congratulations," Fernando said smoothly. "On the race. And... other things."
Max raised an eyebrow, cool as ever. "Thanks."
Fernando sipped his coffee, studying him over the rim of the cup. "You think Charles is going to kill you when he finds out?"
Max’s mouth twitched. "Eventually."
Fernando chuckled, low and pleased. "Good. It was getting boring around here."
Max just smirked, entirely unbothered.
Fernando shook his head, amused beyond measure. "You know," he said, stepping back, "I always knew you were a reckless bastard. Just didn’t think you'd go for family drama reckless."
Max tipped his head slightly, as if accepting the compliment.
"And her?" Fernando asked, almost curiously. "Isabelle?"
Max’s smirk faded, just a little, replaced by something quieter. Steadier.
Fernando recognized it immediately — the rare thing that made even champions stupid.
Real.
Not for show. Not for the cameras. Not for PR.
Max shrugged one shoulder, casual but firm. "She’s worth it."
Fernando barked a short laugh, clapped Max on the shoulder once. "Good," he said. "Make it worth it."
Then he tossed back the rest of his espresso, tossed the cup into a bin without looking, and strolled away — whistling under his breath.
Because finally, finally, the paddock was interesting again.
***
The roar of celebration had faded behind them. No club lights, no champagne-soaked chaos, no loud music or podium flashbacks playing on screens.
Just altitude, quiet, and the steady hum of the jet engines as they cut through the darkness above the Gulf.
Isabelle curled into the wide leather seat, legs tucked beneath her, Max’s hoodie swallowed around her frame. Across from her, Max sat slouched with one arm thrown over the back of the seat, utterly at ease. The cap was gone, curls slightly messy. His race suit was half-unzipped and swapped for a black t-shirt. He looked tired. Soft around the edges.
He’d insisted they skip the party. Said he’d had enough noise. Said he just wanted to go home. Said she was home.
She hadn’t argued.
Now, with the cabin lights dimmed and the stars beyond the windows flickering against the black, Isabelle found herself staring at him — at his calm, unreadable profile — and feeling something enormous pressing against her chest.
"Your dad found me this morning," she said, voice quiet, almost lost in the hum.
Max turned to her immediately, alert in that subtle way he always was when it came to her. "Yeah?"
She nodded, gaze dropping to the thin gold ring around her thumb — one he’d bought her in Tokyo because she’d paused in front of a shop window for half a second.
"He pulled me aside. Said some things."
Max’s brows lifted. "Bad things?"
She shook her head. "No. Just... direct."
Max’s mouth twitched. "So, my father."
Isabelle smiled faintly. "He told me I wasn’t weak. That I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone. That I was a Verstappen now."
That made Max still. Not alarmed. Not tense. Just still. Like the words had rooted somewhere deep.
"He said if anyone gave me trouble, they’d have to answer to him," she added, voice softer now. "Then just walked off like he hadn’t made me want to cry in the middle of the paddock."
Max leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, elbows propped. Watching her.
"I didn’t ask him to say that," he said, measured. "I only asked him to look out for you."
"I know," she murmured.
"And?" he asked, eyes searching hers. "Did it help?"
She let out a slow breath. "Yeah. It helped. It was... grounding. A little terrifying. But grounding."
Max smiled, small and real. "He likes you."
"Scary way of showing it," she said wryly.
Max shrugged. "He doesn’t know how to be soft. But loyalty? That’s his version of love."
She nodded slowly. Let the words sink in.
After a moment, she added, quieter still: "It meant something. Hearing that. Being told I belonged."
Max reached across the space between them and took her hand, threading their fingers together.
"In every way that matters," he said, voice low, steady, fierce, "you already are."
Her eyes flicked up to his.
"You’re mine," Max added, thumb brushing along the curve of her knuckle. "My partner. My person. My home."
She swallowed thickly. His hand was warm, steady. Unmoving.
"And if you want your passport to match someday..."
He smiled, just a little — not teasing, not even hinting.
Promise.
"We’ll make that happen too."
Isabelle’s breath hitched.
There was no rush.
No pressure.
But it was there — quiet and solid and waiting.
The life they were building.
She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, leaning across the aisle until her forehead rested against his.
"I love you," she whispered.
"I know," Max murmured. "I love you more."
And the hum of the engines, the silence of the sky, the softness of this stolen moment — it all folded in around them like a secret the world hadn’t figured out yet.
But soon.
Soon, they wouldn’t be hiding anymore.
And Isabelle — steady and ready — would meet it all head-on. Head up. Eyes forward.
Like a Verstappen.
***
Instagram Story: @/isabelleleclerc
***
Meanwhile on Twitter:
@/gridgossip: Isabelle ending her q&a by thanking people for asking about HER and not her brothers... I'm crying in the club actually
@/monacoprincess: no bc imagine living your whole life in the shadow of your brothers and finally being like "thank you for seeing me". this girl deserves the world
@/paddocktalk: her just wanting to exist as HERSELF not "charles' sister" not "leclerc family member #3" just isabelle i’m going to start swinging
@/f1girlie: the worst part is you can TELL she didn’t expect people to care about her and she still answered so kindly and openly… protect her at all costs
@/undercutqueen: me watching isabelle leclerc quietly exist without demanding attention and somehow being the most interesting person in the paddock [insert emotional damage meme]
@/rbrsunshine: no bc the amount of grace and patience isabelle must have to live in the leclerc orbit and STILL be this soft and sweet… i would have gone feral YEARS ago
@/paddocktea: the fact that this was her first Q&A ever and she was genuinely shocked people asked about her and not charles/arthur??? we failed her as a society
@/tifosimama: you know what? isabelle leclerc appreciation post. talented. stylish. kind. strong. soft-spoken but powerful. this is an isabelle stan account now.
@/f1girlies: when isabelle said "everyone should have an emilie" about emilie…i just. i need to go lie down.
@/mclarenmischief: also her talking about victoria verstappen??? saying "not a lot of people can understand what it’s like” like no wonder they’re close. It’s a whole different kind of fear
@/ferrarifangirl: THE WAY ISABELLE AND VICTORIA UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER WITHOUT EVEN HAVING TO EXPLAIN IT… that hit way harder than i expected
@/gridgossip: isabelle casually saying "everyone deserves one friend like emilie" has me SOBBING at 3pm on a Monday
@/gridgossip: new theory: what if she’s been cat-sitting Max’s cats this whole time and we’ve just been clowns not seeing it
@/p1princess: what if the cats always knew…what if sassy and jimmy were the REAL first ones to approve of belle
@/redbullracingwives: charles not letting isabelle borrow his cars is both hilarious and the most big brother energy imaginable
@/honeybadgerenergy: ISABELLE LECLERC DRIVES A VOLVO
not a ferrari
not a lamborghini
a VOLVO
she's actually mothering the entire paddock i fear
@/gridgossip: isabelle leclerc posting a literal MOODBOARD during a casual q&a and it’s everything i want my future house to be
she’s unreal
@/mclarenmischief: her caption was literally "be nice" and then she dropped the most perfect moodboard like it was NOTHING
#max verstappen fanfiction#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen smau#max verstappen fic#f1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfiction#max verstappen fluff#mv1 fanfiction#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fake instagram#f1 smau#max verstappen social media au#max verstappen x reader#mv1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#mv1 fic#max verstappen x you#f1 grid x reader#f1 grid fanfiction
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Husband?

✰ Modern!Sukuna x fem!reader
✰ Warnings!! - None!! Just fluff and some swearing hehe
✰ A/n!! - I’m trying to get into the groove of posting on here, I get insecure abt my writing, but reading my favorite blogs on here gives my peanut brain motivation.
“Oh yeah, that’s my husband!”
Sukuna could swear the world stopped spinning the moment he heard y/n’s voice a few feet away. He cocked his head towards the checkout line of the Barns & Noble she dragged him into, seeing his girlfriend of 5 months and half (who’s counting?) claim him by a title he wasn’t aware he’d upgraded to; last time he checked, he hasn’t popped the question yet, although the thought doesn’t disgust him as much as he thought it would in the past.
Sukuna puts the book he was looking at back onto its shelf before walking toward’s his now supposed wife just as the woman she was talking to turned the other way.
“What was that I heard?”
Y/n turns around swiftly, a sheepish smile appearing on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, feigning innocence, “you ready to go now?”
“No, no, no, what did I hear you call me?” Sukuna’s grin couldn’t be more prideful, his arms crossed over his puffed chest.
“She was asking about you,” y/n finally relents with a sigh. “I just…doubled down. So she’d know.”
Sukuna doesn’t say anything, continuing to stare at her with that shit eating grin. An embarrassed flush blooms on her cheeks under his calculating gaze, her eyes hesitant to meet his for more than a few seconds at a time.
“I know…it’s early. Sorry.” Her fingers play with the plastic bag holding the books she just bought with Sukuna’s card, nervousness prominent in her disposition.
“Nonsense,” Sukuna finally grunts out. “We act just as a married couple would. Why not address each other as such?” He smiles, playing with the idea in his mind.
Y/n’s eyes float up to his again, her face falling a bit. “Really?” She stammers out.
Sukuna doesn’t say anything—he only quirks his brow at her, as if to silently say, ‘don’t make me repeat myself’. So she doesn’t; she takes his hand in hers, and leads him out of the store, feeling as if she’s walking on air.
Maybe Sukuna feels the same as well…no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna imagine#sukuna headcanons#ryomen sukuna x reader#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk#jjk smau#jjk x you#jjk sukuna#jjk ryomen
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Azul x reader where the reader read that octopus die after mating and so she refuses to even KISS him by fear of hin dying (if reader is a bit cold/grumpy I would love it even more tysm)
AZUL X READER
Where you don't want to kiss him
How would Azul act if you flatly refused to kiss him because you read that octopuses die after mating?
"Can I ask you something, dear?" Azul said with his usual smile, courtesy and ambition carefully disguised as sweetness.
"No," you replied, without even looking at him, turning the page of your book with a sigh.
Azul blinked, but he wasn't discouraged. If he had anything, it was patience…
And a dangerous stubbornness.
"Come on, it'll just take a second. I promise not to talk about last week's contract or the little favor I asked Jade for…"
"I'm not kissing you."
That really stopped him in his tracks.
"Sorry?"
You closed the book with a thud and looked at it for the first time all afternoon, frowning.
"I read something. About octopuses."
Azul blinked again. Twice.
"So… what does that have to do with me?"
"They die after mating."
Silence. Long. Awkward.
"Excuse me?"
"What you heard. After mating. Phew. Goodbye. Dead. And you… you're an octopus."
You pointed an accusatory finger at him, as if you'd caught him stealing babies or something.
Azul honestly didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"I'm an octopus-mermaid, a merfolk, not an aquarium octopus, by the Seven," he complained, pinching the bridge of his nose as if just having this conversation was draining his life (and patience). "
"And besides, that's after mating, not a simple kiss!"
"I'm not taking any chances."
"What do you think is going to happen? That you're going to kiss me and I'm going to disintegrate in your arms?"
"Yes."
Azul stared at you, shocked.
"…You're cruel."
"And you're dramatic. Perfect for dying if I get too close."
"That doesn't even make sense biologically! Technically, I'm more like a merman than an octopus! And we're not even talking about mating, we're talking about an innocent peck on the cheek! Are you telling me I'm forbidden from that too?"
"Especially that."
Azul slumped down onto the chair across from you, defeated.
"I can't believe you're letting an internet article ruin our relationship. What's next? You're only going to feed me once a day for fear I'll get fat again and float to the surface?"
"Mmm… good idea."
"...!"
"I'm looking after you, don't thank me."
You patted him nonchalantly on the head.
"Now stop bothering me. I'm on the best part of the book."
Azul looked at you with a tragic expression, as if he'd just been informed that the Monster Lounge had run out of reservations for the entire month.
"I can't believe this… Rejected for fear of death by mating. This is the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to me. And Floyd once forced me to do a show dressed as a giant squid…"
"Yeah, Azul. If you can convince me with scientific proof that you won't die after kissing me, maybe I'll consider it. Maybe."
Azul narrowed his eyes.
"What if I get a medical certificate?"
"Then maybe I'll let you kiss me on the hand. With gloves. And disinfectant."
Azul sighed so deeply it felt like his soul was leaving his body.
But deep down, he couldn't help but smile.
After all, you were his favorite paranoid grouch.
You were so engrossed in your book, completely ignoring Azul, that you didn't notice him leaning toward you across the table.
"Besides, I don't even know where you got that information…" he muttered as you turned another page. "It could be a myth. Or an exaggeration."
"But still, better safe than sorry."
And that's when it happened.
Without a word, Azul cupped your face in a gentle hand and leaned in. A kiss. Quick, precise. Right on the corner of your lips.
It took your brain two seconds to reboot.
"AZUL."
He had already sat back down, adjusting his gloves as if nothing had happened.
"Ah, look at that. I'm still alive. What a miracle."
He smiled at you with that damn smug expression that you knew was going to haunt your dreams tonight.
Your heart was pounding like you'd run ten flights of stairs. The heat in your cheeks was so evident that even Grim could have pointed it out between jeers.
"That was… That was an attack!" you exclaimed, placing a hand over your mouth.
"It was scientific evidence, as you requested." He nodded solemnly.
"Hypothesis proven. I didn't die."
"I'll kill you if you do that again!"
"So I do die after a kiss?"
"AZUL!"
"You're blushing, by the way. Adorable."
You threw the book at him.
He caught it with ridiculous ease.
"Want to read to me for a bit?" he said, winking at you. "I promise not to die mid-chapter."
Your face burned. Your pride screamed. But your lips… well, those were dangerously tempted to break another rule.
And Azul knew it.
#twisted x reader#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#azul#azul ashengrotto#azul x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#twst azul#twisted one shots#azul x yuu#twst x yuu#twisted x yuu#twisted wonderland one shots
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Oh Las Hoyas, what a joy to research and paint you are! Ever since I got myself a book on this locality in 2016 I wanted to do a bigger piece depicting the complex and diverse ecosystem that has been preserved here. While Concavenator and other archosaurs might be the main draw...

for most, for me this locality was always a near perfect window into a lost world just out of reach. For this piece the idea came together surprisingly quickly. While I initially had planned to show a Plicanimimus nesting colony it just didn't want to click.
Eventually I decided that I couldn't just leave Concaventor in the background and instead made it an integral part of the composition. This specimen is resting after a good meal in shallow water. The remains of a Pelicanimimus still floating next to it and attracting a lot of fish, insects and other small scavengers. While other critters go about their day, not bothered by the large predator that sits near motionless. Still enough to have small birds collect feathers from it for nest building purposes.
As you can see in this size chart by Discord member JW there is still a lot that didn't make it in here and also still a lot that hasn't even been published yet! May others pick up where I left off. The Cretaceous wetland has still much to offer!
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