#max weight arthur

[big-boah-2]

Arthur & John

[exhaustedalien]

chaps!

[maxtermind]

please i'm begging you (please don't feel pressured if your life is busy 💕) we need pt 2 to the angst i can't handle this 😭 my heart 💔 the writing is too good that i'm feeling things 😓

was i stupid to love you?

★ : summary :: when he downplays your feelings ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst; hurt/comfort ★ : word count :: 4.6k ★ : a/n :: open ending, don't forget to vote after so i can get a bit of feedback :3 kinda rushed so might contain lots of typos sorryyyy!!

( part 1 )

Charles Leclerc

The house party buzzed with music and laughter, a cacophony that drowned your thoughts as you stormed through the crowded rooms. Your heart raced with a mix of anger and hurt, knowing Charles was right on your tail, determined to catch you before you could reach Arthur.

Your boyfriend’s hand wrapped around yours just as his brother turned around to look at you guys. You stomped your feet as you shook your head to dismiss Arthur and follow your boyfriend who quietly kissed your head in gratitude before you could step away.

”What is going on with you?!” Your voice trembled with barely contained fury as you confronted Charles in a quieter corner.

Charles sighed, his brow furrowing in frustration. ”I don’t know, baby. I’m so sorry—”

”You told me off when you should know that I’m right!” Your voice rose involuntarily. ”She fucking leaned in thinking that you were gonna choose her.”

”Y/N, please listen to me,” Charles said earnestly, stepping closer to you. ”I messed up. I know. But I would, never in a hundred years, choose anyone let alone her over you.”

You looked into Charles' eyes, seeing the sincerity and pain reflected in them. Your anger began to melt, replaced by a swirl of conflicting emotions.

”You’re just saying what I want to hear and I don't like it,” you said, your voice softer now, searching for clarity.

”It’s the truth,” Charles declared, his voice tinged with regret. ”I know I’ve hurt you baby and I'm sorry for that but I can’t— I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I watched you leave with my brother. Let me drop you home, okay?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, frustration and hurt mixing with the love you still felt for him. Charles gently took your hands in his, his touch warm and comforting.

”Y/N, please,” Charles pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. ”I never want to make you feel like you need to run away from me. I want to talk this out, please give me a chance to make things right.”

You hesitated, feeling torn between wanting to forgive him and the pain of betrayal still fresh in your heart.

”Okay,” you finally whispered, feeling emotionally drained. ”Let's go.”

Charles nodded, relief washing over his face. He led you out of the noisy party, his grip on your hand tight and reassuring. The cool night air outside provided a stark contrast to the heated emotions inside.

As Charles drove you home, neither of you spoke. The silence was filled with unspoken words and the weight of what had just transpired. But Charles kept stealing glances at you, his eyes full of regret and love.

When you arrived at your shared apartment, Charles parked the car but made no move to get out. He turned to you, his expression soft and vulnerable.

”I'll leave if you want me to,” Charles said quietly, his voice tinged with sorrow. ”But please, Y/N, give us a chance to talk tomorrow. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes and the love that still lingered despite everything. Tears fell down your cheeks as you nodded slowly.

”I need time,” you admitted softly, your voice barely audible. ”Time to sort through this.”

Charles nodded understandingly, reaching out to gently wipe away your tears. ”Take all the time you need,” he said softly, his thumb caressing your cheek. ”I'll be here, whenever you're ready.”

”Where will you go?” You asked, not wanting to leave just yet.

”To your brother’s house,” he joked and smiled cheekily when you let out a small laugh.

”I love you,” Charles continued and seemed satisfied when you saw your tinted cheeks, giving into the temptation to kiss your hand. ”I’ll stay at Arthur's for the night.”

With that, you stepped out of the car, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions. You watched Charles drive away, feeling the distance between you both but knowing that perhaps, with time, you could find a way back to each other.

Lando Norris

You sat in the break room at work, your lunch untouched in front of you. The memories of last night’s events still stung, the image of her hand on Lando’s thigh and the lipstick on his collar replaying in your mind.

Just as you were about to take a sip of water, the door swung open, and there he was, your— ex? —boyfriend, looking desperate and determined. You knew there was a possibility he’d try to catch you at work given that you’d taken away all other means.

”Y/N, can I please?” he said, his voice pleading as he pointed towards the hallway.

You nodded reluctantly and led him to an empty hall, away from prying eyes. The silence was deafening as you stood there, waiting for him to speak.

You nodded reluctantly and led him to an empty conference room, away from prying eyes. The silence was deafening as you stood there, waiting for him to speak.

”Y/N, please,” he started, his voice trembling slightly. ”I’m so sorry about last night.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the table. ”Bet you had a good time, huh?”

”No, I didn't,” Lando said in disbelief before he took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. ”Nothing that happened there was intentional. We were all drinking, and she... she got too close. I should have pushed her away. I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, anger bubbling up again, finally fired up enough to speak your mind. ”Her hand was on your fucking thigh, Lando. And your collar— her lipstick was all over it. How do you explain that?”

He winced, clearly pained by the memory. ”I know it looks bad, but it wasn’t what it seemed. She leaned in close to talk to me, and I didn’t realize she had left a mark. It was a— just a stupid mistake, and I should have been more aware.”

”More aware?” you echoed, your voice rising. ”You should have cared about how it would make me feel! Instead, you shrugged it off like it was nothing.”

”I didn’t mean to shrug it off,” he said, stepping closer. ”I was wrong. I should have reassured you, should have shown you that you’re the only one that matters to me. Baby, please just let me—”

You looked away, the pain still fresh. ”It’s not just about the lipstick or her hand. It’s about how you made me feel like I was overreacting, like my feelings didn’t matter.”

”They do matter,” he said, his voice breaking. ”More than anything. I was an idiot. I should have pushed her away immediately. I should have come to you and told you everything before you saw it for yourself.”

”You know I only want you,” he added softly, his eyes pleading with you.

You shook your head, trying to hold back tears. ”That’s the thing, Lando. I don’t know that. I actually believe that y— you don’t at all.”

Lando’s eyes filled with tears as a broken whisper of your name left his mouth. ”I h.. have never, I never will. Ever.” He stressed. ”Want anyone— need anyone the way I want you.”

You kept quiet as you looked at him trying to catch himself. Lending him your hand that he squeezed in return.

”I can’t believe you would ever believe that but I understand and, I promise… I’ll be more mindful, more respectful. I’ll make sure everyone knows I’m taken, that I’m yours. Please, give me a chance to make it right.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you let out a slow breath, trying to not have a breakdown at your workplace. ”It’s going to take time, Lando. Trust isn’t rebuilt overnight.”

”I know,” he said, relief washing over his features. ”And I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m worthy of your trust.”

”Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. ”I’ll give it a thought, Lando. But if you hurt me again, we’re done.”

”I understand,” he said, his voice filled with determination. ”Thank you, Y/N. I won’t let you down.”

Max Verstappen

The streets were bustling with late-night revelers, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside you. The restaurant's neon sign flickered as you stepped out into the cool night air, your phone clenched tightly in your hand.

Three hours. You had waited for three hours, hoping Max would show up for your anniversary dinner, only to find out from the story of your mutual friend that he was out with her again.

On your anniversary.

You made your way through the crowded streets, not caring where you ended up. You just needed to get away, to think, to process the hurt and betrayal. Your phone buzzed incessantly in your pocket, but you ignored it. Max's calls and messages could wait. Right now, you needed space.

After wandering aimlessly for a while, you found yourself at the edge of the city, near the river. The quiet contrast of the flowing water was a welcome change from the city's noise. You sat on a bench, pulling your jacket tighter around you as a light drizzle began to fall. The soft patter of rain on the water's surface was soothing, but it didn’t dull the ache in your heart.

Minutes turned into an hour, and the rain intensified. Your phone buzzed again, and this time you glanced at it. Last message from Max was a minute ago

Max: Y/N, please. Where are you? Let me explain. I’m looking for you.

You sighed, wiping away the raindrops mixed with your tears. Your fingers hovered over the screen before you finally typed a reply.

You: By the river. Near the old bridge.

You didn’t know why you told him, but some part of you wanted to hear him out. To understand why he kept doing this. Why would he even waste time with you if he was already in love with someone else?

God. Even the thought of that brought up a real pain in your chest. The rain fell harder, and you huddled under the small awning of a nearby building, trying to stay somewhat dry.

After what felt like an eternity, you saw a figure running towards you through the rain. It was Max, drenched and breathless. He slowed as he approached, his eyes filled with worry and regret. HIs clothes were all over the place, untucked and wrinkled and you only drew the worst conclusion.

”Y/N,” he gasped, stopping a few feet away. ”Thank God, you're okay.”

You stood up, arms crossed defensively. ”You’ve got five minutes, Max. Make it count.”

He nodded, taking a step closer. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know I’ve let you down. I was with her tonight because she’s going through a really rough time. She had no one else to turn to.”

You narrowed your eyes, the skepticism clear. ”On our anniversary? How convenient.”

He flinched at your tone but didn’t back down. ”I know it’s no excuse. I should have told you. I thought I could help her quickly and still make it to dinner. I didn’t realize it would take so long.”

You shook your head, the anger bubbling up again. ”This isn’t the first time, Max. How many times have I had to wonder if she’s really just a friend? How many times have you put her before me?”

Max stepped closer, his eyes pleading. ”I’ve been blind, Y/N. I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. There’s nothing romantic between us. She’s just a friend, and she needed my help. But I see now that I’ve been unfair to you.”

Tears mixed with the rain on your cheeks. ”I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Max. The constant worry, the feeling like I’m not enough. It’s tearing me apart.”

He reached out, tentatively taking your hand. ”You are more than enough, Y/N. I’ve been an idiot, and I’m so sorry. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception. All you saw was sincerity and regret. ”How can I trust you again, Max? What did she even need help with?”

He squeezed your hand gently. ” She saw her ex at the club and he was being an asshole. I just went over for five to put him in his place when one of her friends posted the story. I’m sorry for the delay, baby. I know I should've been more transparent about everything. Just please, give me a chance to make things right.”

”Is she okay?” You took a shaky breath, your heart aching with the desire to believe him and he exhaled when you pulled him under the shit excuse of shelter you had from the rain.

”She’s okay. I promise I won't ever embarrass you this way again, baby. You won’t ever have to sit and wonder if I'm bailing because I found someone else or not.” Max took another deep breath. ”I never will, baby, you are the only one I want. I will never find anyone.”

You closed your eyes, the tears spilling over as you hugged him. ”I wanna go home.”

”Okay let’s go home, baby.” Max gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. ”But I need you to know. You are my priority, Y/N. I’ll never let you feel otherwise again. I love you more than anything, and I’ll spend every day proving it to you.”

You leaned into his touch, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the pain as you hugged him.

He sighed again, closing his eyes to soak in this. ”Happy anniversary, baby. I love you”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a tired smile.

Carlos Sainz

Carlos's pleas had grown quieter, the urgency in his voice replaced with a softness that seemed to seep through the crack under the door.

You could hear his breath hitching, a clear sign that he was on the verge of breaking down himself. But you couldn’t get yourself to stand up as you sat on the bed, knees drawn to your chest, tears still streaming down your face as you tried to block out the sound.

”Y/N, please,” he choked out, and you could hear the tears in his voice now. ”I'm so sorry. I... I don't know what else to say. I can't lose you.”

The sincerity and raw emotion in his voice cut through you in a vicious manner, and against your better judgment, you found yourself getting up. You hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering over the doorknob, before finally opening the door just a crack.

Carlos was standing there, his eyes red and swollen from crying. When he saw you, a look of profound relief washed over his face. ”Thank you,” he whispered.

You stepped back, letting him in. He walked in slowly, as if afraid to invade your space, and you closed the door behind him. The silence was heavy, each second stretching into an eternity.

”I'm so sorry,” Carlos said again, his voice trembling. ”I swear, I didn't know she was going to kiss me. If I had known, I would have never invited her. I would never do anything to hurt you intentionally.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your own shaking voice. ”But you did invite her, Carlos. And I told you to cut her off so many times. Why didn't you listen?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking utterly defeated. ”I thought... I thought we were just friends. I didn't realize she felt that way about me. And when she kissed me, I was so shocked. I— I froze. I'm an idiot. I should have pushed her away immediately.”

”You should have,” you echoed, your voice breaking as you recalled that scene and it felt like someone was physically stabbing you. ”Do you have any idea how much it hurt to see that?”

Carlos stepped closer, his eyes pleading. ”I know, and I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, Y/N. You're the only one I want to be with.”

You looked down, tears falling onto the floor. ”How do I know that, Carlos? How do I know you won't let this happen again?”

He gently took your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. ”Because I can’t ever go through this again. I don’t want to know what it feels like to almost lose you. I'll cut her off completely. I promise you, baby, just, anything— it will never happen again.”

You pulled your hands away, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. ”It's not just about cutting her off, Carlos. I can never get that image out of my brain now. What if you just wake up tomorrow that you didn’t get rid of her because yo— you…?”

You trailed off but Carlos understood and immediately shook his head. ”No,” he said firmly. ”I will never wake up with anyone other than you in my heart. You’re the one I love, the one I am going to live my life with.”

He didn’t let you speak as he carried on,”I understand. Trust is earned, not given. And I'll do whatever it takes to earn it back. I'll prove to you that you can trust me.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of his words. ”I want to believe you. But it's going to take time. A lot of time.”

”I know,” he said softly. ”And I'm willing to wait. I'll wait as long as it takes for you to trust me again. Just please, don't shut me out. Let me be there for you.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine remorse and love in them. Despite everything, a part of you still loved him deeply. ”Okay,” you whispered. ”But you have to understand, it's going to be hard. I'm still hurt, and it's going to take a while for me to heal.”

Carlos nodded, a flicker of hope in his eyes. ”I'll be patient. I'll be here for you, no matter what. And I'll do everything I can to make it right.”

”Alright.” You nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope yourself. ”Just... don't make me regret it.”

”I won't,” Carlos stepped closer, tentatively reaching out to wipe a tear from your cheek. ”I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

You gave him a small as you leaned into his touch, feeling a mix of emotions, ”I love you too, Carlos. That's why this hurts so much.”

He pulled you into a gentle hug, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. ”We'll get through this. Together.”

Lewis Hamilton

You paced around your apartment, the anger and hurt from the argument still fresh. The silence after the exchange with Lewis was deafening. You couldn’t believe he said those things. Your phone buzzed on the couch, but you ignored it, needing space to process.

A knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. It was loud and persistent. You hesitated, hoping it wasn’t who you thought it was.

”Y/N, please open up. I need to talk to you,” Lewis’s voice came through the door, sounding desperate.

You took a deep breath and opened the door. Your boyfriend stood there, looking remorseful.

”What do you want, Lewis?” you asked, your voice cold.

”Can I come in? Please, we need to talk,” he pleaded.

You stepped aside reluctantly, letting him in. He walked into the living room, turning to face you with regret etched on his face.

”I’m sorry, Y/N,” he started, his voice soft as he ran a hand over his face. ”I didn’t mean what I said. I was frustrated— but that’s no excuse.”

”You really hurt me,” you said, crossing your arms defensively knowing you had to support yourself before you start crying again. ”And you were so fucking cruel about it!”

”I know, and I hate that I did that to you,” he replied, his eyes sincere. ”I’ve been spending too much time with her, and I’ve been blind to how it’s been affecting you— us. Affecting us.”

”Why do you keep seeing her then? If she’s just a friend, why does it feel like she’s more important than me?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

”She’s not more important than you,” he said quickly. ”I’ve let the boundaries blur, and I didn’t realize how much it was hurting you. I’m sorry.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away. This was not what you expected. You were ready for a fight, sure that Lewis would come with his own weapons out but this was undoing you.

”It’s not just about her, Lewis. It’s about us. You’ve been distant, and I feel like I’m losing you.”

Lewis nodded, looking pained and sick. ”You’re not losing me, Y/N. I’ve been an idiot, and I’ve taken you for granted. I want to fix this.”

”How?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Desperately clinging onto him to make amends because you couldn’t see any in hindsight.

”By being more present, by setting boundaries, and by showing you every day how much you mean to me,” he said, taking your hands in his. ”Please give me a chance to make this right.”

”Words aren’t enough anymore,” you said, looking down at your joined hands.

”I know,” he nodded. ”But I'm willing to go through any lengths, I’ll prove to you that you’re my priority.”

You searched his eyes, seeing the determination and regret. ”I want to trust you,” as your voice cracked, the very first tear fell down your face and Lewis immediately grabbed you as he pulled you to lay your head on his chest.

”I can’t though— I wish I could but I can't get hurt again.”

”I understand and I promise you can shoot me if I hurt you again” he said. ”I love you, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You leaned into his embrace, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the pain. ”I love you too.” You felt him take a sigh as he held you tight against his warm body.

”And I need you to understand that my feelings are valid,” you continued as you soaked his shirt with your tears. ”When I tell you something bothers me, I need you to listen and not dismiss it.”

”I promise I’ll listen,” he said, his voice full of sincerity. ”I’ll do better because losing you would end me.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift slightly. As you stood there in your boyfriend’s arms, you realized that healing would take time but there was no one else you would rather heal with. Though only time could tell what the future held for you.

Oscar Piastri

You closed your eyes as you heard the door of your best friend's apartment being knocked on again. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, betrayal, sadness.

You replayed the messages over and over in your head, each one cutting deeper than the last as you contemplated whether letting Oscar in would be a good decision. You finally made the decision when you heard the neighbor’s lock moving.

You pulled him in before they could open their door or call the cops and finally took a look at him. He looked disheveled. His eyes were red from holding unshed tears as they glossed over once he finally took you in.

”Y/N,” Oscar started, moving towards you with open arms. ”Thanks for letting me in.”

”I almost didn't.” You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep your voice steady as you stepped away from his open arms. ”But you were waking up the whole damn building.”

Oscar nodded, looking down at the ground. ”I deserve that.” You took a deep breath, desperate to get this over with.

”Why, Oscar? Why did you lie to me?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. ”I... I was scared you'd get upset. I thought if I told you the truth, you'd leave me.”

”And now?” you scoffed, your voice rising. ”You think I'm not upset now? You think lying to me makes it any better?”

He stepped closer, his eyes pleading. ”Y/N, I made a mistake. A huge mistake. But nothing happened between me and her, I swear. We were drunk, and she sat on my lap for a picture. It was stupid and irresponsible, but that's all it was.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. ”Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Seeing her on your lap after you told me she wasn't even going to be there?”

Oscar reached out to touch your arm, but you stepped back once again and his eyes brimmed with tears. ”Y/N, please. I love you. I was an idiot, but I love you. I need you to believe that.”

You wiped your eyes, trying to compose yourself. ”How can I believe you, Oscar? When I don't even know if you really want me?”

He swallowed hard, his tears finally falling out of his eyes. Oscar looked defeated as if he was fighting a battle already lost.

”Please don’t say that. You’re the only person I want. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. I'll never lie to you again. I'll be completely honest, even if it's something I think will hurt you. Just... please give me a chance to make it right.”

You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. You saw only earnest regret and a desperate longing for forgiveness. You wanted to believe him, but the hurt was still so raw.

”I don't know if I can,” you whispered. ”You've broken my trust, Oscar. And that's not something you can just fix with words.”

He nodded slowly. ”I know. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes. I'll go to counseling, I'll give you access to my phone, my social media, anything you need to feel secure. Just please, don’t give up on us.”

You stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation heavy in the air. You looked around the dimly lit apartment, as you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

”Okay,” you said finally. ”I’m willing to discuss this in the morning. But if you lie to me again, if you hurt me again, we're done. Do you understand?”

Oscar's face lit up with a mixture of relief and determination as his chest heaved. ”I understand. I promise you, Y/N, I'll never give you a reason to doubt me again.”

You nodded, as your lips quivered. ”I hope so. Because I don't think I can go through this again.”

He stepped closer, cautiously taking your hand. You allowed it, feeling the warmth of his touch. ”Thank you,” he said softly. ”I won't let you down.”

You stood together, still holding hands. The silence between you was different now—tentative, but with a flicker of understanding. You had a long way to go, but for the first time since those fateful messages, you felt like maybe, just maybe, not all was lost.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[verstappensrealwife]

His Lucky Charm - Max Verstappen x reader

fluff, angst, smut

approx 2900 words

warnings: partial Charles x Reader but they were never together.. smut (written so so so badly like idk what i was thinking), swearing, reader is on “birth control”….. also time skips . like lots

max verstappen masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

2015

(age: 15)

You formed your little crush on Charles when you were 15, your parents and his own hosting a dinner to celebrate something or other. You didn't know. But what you did know was that Charles was 18, and beautiful. He had accidentally bumped into you when you were walking into the kitchen. "Oh sorry Y/N." He said, without thought, and then shuffling past you, while you stood still, bright red.

                    Eventually you came to your senses and carried on through the kitchen, getting the drink you needed so desperately now.

You sipped on the icy-cold water through a straw as Charles came back into the kitchen. He smiled at you, saying nothing more. You smiled back dopily, watching him closely.

"What do you think?" He said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Huh- what?"

"The shirt," He gestured to the Van Amersfoort Racing shirt, smiling proudly at his accomplishment.

"Really good," You smiled, getting a little closer, your attempt at flirting. He backed up slightly, walking into the door of the fridge.

"Oh- erm-," He stuttered, not wanting to upset you by rejecting you, but finding the outcome of you touching him worse. "You- Sorry..." He said quietly, "You're just too young."

You nodded, taking a few steps back, further than where you had started. You threw the rest of the water into the sink and placed the glass beside it before mumbling a quick apology and going to sit with yours, and his, family.

-

2017

(age: 17)

Charles was now in F2, your crush had only developed more. But you hadn't done anything about it. Waiting till you believed you weren't too young. And now you thought you were. You'd grown in a few particular places, finished secondary school and now getting your general Baccalaureate in Psychology.

              You were drunk, proclaiming sobriety, at a party with best friend, Arthur. He had found struggle in trying to reason with you and get you to drink water, so never mind even attempting to charter you home. His only resort was to call Charles. He wouldn't tell your parents- who in their right mind would- and he knew you'd listen to Charles.

When Charles walked in you cheered loudly, throwing yourself at his arms, he held most of your body weight up. "You smell nice," You slurred with your face on his chest. He thanked you quietly.

                    "Ready to go home, Y/N/N?" He asked you, watching as your eyes scanned his face quickly. Arthur was no where to be seen now. In fact no one was. It was just you and Charles, alone in the bathroom he had found you in doing god knows what drugs off the sink. "What have you been doing?" He asked innocently.

"nothing..." You reply sheepishly. You smiled dopily. The same smile you did two years ago. He sensed what would happen next and managed to sit you down on-top of the toilet-seat.

"You're still too young for me..." He said, not meaning to embarrass you. But you still went bright red. Tears welled in your eyes. "I'm sorry... let's go huh?"

You nodded. Following him slowly through the party.

-

2018

(age: 18th bday)

You were celebrating your 18th birthday. Finally. You waited all night for Charles however. You still enjoyed the party, and the fun that came with it. And your 'first ever drink' as your parents thought.

    But you wanted him there. Now you were 18, maybe you were old enough for him. Maybe he'd like you back. Maybe he'd...

He'd walked in with another girl. She was beautiful. Black hair, green eyes, tall, a gorgeous dress over her body that was equally perfect.

You wanted to crumble and die.

"Happy birthday!" He smiled, handing you a gift bag. You smiled, ignoring the ache in your heart as she smiled at you. You couldn't blame her. You weren't mad. You were just heart broken.

You pried open the bag and saw a Ferrari shirt. You frowned, confused. Pulling it out and then dropping the bag, you unfolded it and saw his name, and his number on it. "Charles Leclerc 16".

"Oh- my god!" You yelled, "You did it Charles!" You screamed happily. Even if you were completely in love with him, he was still first and foremost, your friend. And you knew how much he has wanted this. You flung yourself at him, hugging him tightly. "I'm so proud- what the fuck!" You pulled back, examining the shirt once more. You didn't spend this birthday dwelling on his girlfriend, but instead on the fact that he was now a signed Ferrari driver. Well, not until next season, but either way you were ecstatic for him.

-

2019

(age: 19)

You had moved countries to study for a while, you never did catch up with F1, despite your childhood friend being one of the top point scorers of the season so far.

             It was the end of August and the Belgian race was coming up soon. You were unaware of that until Arthur during your weekly phone call had brought it up, and how he wishes you could come.

"I can..." You said.

"You can?!" he shouted.

"Yeah," You laughed, "Do you not remember? I finish my year out in like... a week."

"Come- PLEASE- oh my god please come Y/N, Charles will love to see you! And so will Maman!"

You nodded to the phone, "Okay... only if you pay Arthur," You joke, fully intending to pay for yourself. However when you got the confirmation emails for your tickets and flights you laughed loudly, all while on the call.

-

A few weeks later and you were scanning into the Spa circuit. Walking towards the Ferrari garage and seeing Arthur first. You ran and jumped on his back, scarring the life out of him, curse words flying out his mouth in his mother tongue. You dropped off his back and he spun around, quickly hugging you.

"You're here!" He cried, Charles walking over to see what all the shouting was about. He could only see Arthur's back.

"What are you yelling abou- Oh!" He paused, seeing you. "Y/N!" He smiled, opening his arms for you to run into. You smiled when he kissed your forehead.

It was the day before the race, and all drivers were out, doing track walks, or going to see the other drivers.

"What are you doing here i thought you were studying in... wherever."

"I finished early!" You smiled proudly, he looked at you with a look of adoration of how smart you truly were. You noticed his stare, and the way his jaw tensed.

From previous life experience- you knew that usually led to kissing. However when you looked down at his lips, he was quick to step back. "R-Right... too young." You whispered. Only he heard and he nodded.

-

You cheered loudly as Charles finished first!

When he came back to the garage, he hugged everyone m, leaving you last. He came over to you and smiled. "My good luck charm," He joked, since he hadn't won a single race til you got here.

-

A week later you were in Italy, on the Monza track, cheering Charles as he took the same position again. He now thoroughly believed you were his good luck charm. Even proclaiming so in his after-race interview.

"Question for Charles— What do you think has changed in your racing to make you win your last 2 races now?"

"My brothers friend- and my friend too of course- now that she's here I seem to only ever be winning. Not that I can complain, she is amazing..." He said, trailing off with a look in his eyes no one could place.

—

For some reason that made you all emotions of sad, happy, and angry.

You left that race early.

Walking into the hotel, into the lift, you heard a shout. Quickly you shoved your arm infront of the closing doors. Seeing Charles jump in after you.

"Hi," He said quietly, only the two of you in the lift.  You smiled back, saying nothing. "Why- uh- Why did you leave early?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"I- seriously?" You sighed. He nodded, "Because, Charles! Because you're telling me i'm too young, then boasting about how much you love me in interviews while still keeping up that 'too young' view of me. okay?! I liked you, i have done for so long! And you throw it in my face every single time. I'm sick of it Charles!" You exploded. He stood there like a deer in headlights, mouth open slightly. Shocked at your outburst.

"I thought you'd move on eventually - I- I am so sorry."

"Save it, Leclerc." You mumbled before the elevator stopped. "Don't worry anymore, I'll move on this time." You said before stepping out.

Once the elevator's door closed you let the tears flow. Walking to your room silently, until you turned the corner into a firm chest. The man stepped back quickly, profusely apologetic to you.

"Verstappen?" You said.

"Erm.. Yea- oh! Y/N?!" He said, he recognised you from his Karting days when you'd go to support Charles. And recently from cameras all panning to you when Charles had called you his 'lucky charm'.

"Are you okay? you look like you're crying."

"I'm fine- I just- Charles... is a dick."  You sighed. He laughed, agreeing without using words. You remembered your own words, 'move on'.

"Well- erm- i hope you both figure it out. You're a great couple." He said.

"Oh- No! We're not. No." you corrected him, "He never wanted me... i'm 'too young' apparently. But that's fine. I've  needed to move on for a while, just never had the opportunities, or the strength to really leave my feelings for Charles." You said. "Sorry- I don't know why I told you all of that,"

"It's fine- and if it helps, I think you're way too beautiful to be with Leclerc anyways." He said.

Was he flirting?!

"You really think that?" You asked quietly, he nodded silently. You took a breath, "I- thank you... Verstappen."

"Max..." He said, correcting you.

"Sorry- Max." You said, the more you looked at him the more you found him attractive. He was beautiful in-fact. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, not to mention the firmness of his chest when you had barged into him.

He was watching you too, your soft lips and perfect body. A red- off the shoulder- summer dress flowing to your mid thighs.

"I- sorry if this is forward, do you wanna get a drink?" He asked, biting his lip and looking at you hopefully.

You nodded, "I'd love to," You giggled.

-

You both stumbled back to the hotel, it was almost 4am. You were drunk. He was drunk. You were both needy...

You went to your room, it was closer than his. He slammed your back into the door when as soon as he walked through the door. His lips were on your collar bone, neck, and finally lips.

"Fuck, Y/N, you- all of you- you're perfect." He whispered, his hands gripping your hips leaving finger-shaped bruises.

"I need you- Max- please fuck me."

He groaned heavily as his lips trailed from your neck to collar bones, sucking gently on the skin leaving love-marks along your skin. He quickly pulled the dress zip down, pulling the dress off of you and undoing the bra strap, letting it fall down with the flowing skirt of the dress. You reciprocated his actions by unbuttoning his shirt and trousers. You palmed his dick while it was still held in his boxers.

               He hoisted you up to wrap your legs around him, there, he carried you towards your bed, laying you gently on your back. He got on his knees infront of you, "Can I..." He asked, about to pull your underwear off. You nodded quickly. "Words?"

"Yes- Yes Max!" You cried. 

You groaned as his tongue first touched your clit. His tongue circling around before plunging his fingers inside your cunt. You moaned out louder. "Please- Mmmh~ Max!"

He pulled away before you could cum, climbing on top of you and ridding his boxers. "Condom...?" He asked. You shook your head.

"Birth control," You smile. He groaned at that, before gently pushing inside you. He was slow; at first. But he sped up quickly.

"That's a good girl," He whispered in your ear quietly, "So beautiful." He smacked his hips into yours, moaning softly with each thrust.

He pulled out and turned you over, lay on your stomach he continued his action, this time smacking and grabbing your ass. Leaving harsh red marks on the skin. His thrusts not sloppy, but perfectly in rhythm, each slap of skin like a song.

"M-Max," You moaned, "Wanna.." you said, unable to get a coherent sentence out.

"Do it then, schatje" He said, the pulsation of your orgasm tipping him over the edge, spilling himself inside of your warm pussy. He groaned and thrusted once more before halting and slowly pulling out.

"I- I'll go get you a towel," He said, before walking to your bathroom and taking the first towel he saw. He brought it back, "Are you okay?" He asked as he cleaned you gently.

You nodded silently and cuddled into the sheets once he was done. He helped you put on his shirt to sleep in buttoning the final button before he was about to pull his boxers on.

"Don't leave..." You muffled into the pillow. He looked at you softly. He smiled and got into the bed with you

"I couldn't... you're wearing my shirt anyway." He said quietly, you ignored him. Instead, wrapping your arms around his torso and gently resting your head on his chest. He held his hand on your waist. "Goodnight." He said quietly, you mumbled back in return and before you knew it you were both fast asleep.

-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"I know you're in there just answer the door!" Max heard a voice shout from outside the room. You had clearly heard too, thus resulting in you forcing your head further into Max's pec muscle. You pulled the sheets up above your head.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Max sighed, making you do the same. You wriggled out of the comfort of his arms and shuffled over to the door. Opening it to see Charles stood there. "Erm?" You mumbled confused.

"Listen- I'm sorry ab— what are you wearing...?" He mumbled, knowing you usually slept in actual pyjamas.

Cough, Cough! came from inside the room. Charles looked at you, then behind you. He couldn't fully see the bed from the door and tried to step in further.

"What are you doing?" You stressed, watching as he barged through the room.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" You heard him exclaim. You followed him in before remembering what- or rather whom- was in your bed.

Max smiled at the Monegasque, not fully understanding his issue. He understood to an extent, they did hate each other as kids and were rivals for a while. But it seemed he was more mad about the fact you slept with someone else. Not that it was Max, half naked, in your bed.

"What is he doing in your bed?" Charles asked you.

"Sleeping..." Max said, confused.

"Do not talk to me." Charles snapped at him. Max held his hands up in surrender and stayed silent. Charles looked at you. Wearing nothing but Max'a shirt from after the race yesterday.

"What does it matter, Charles?" You asked with a disappointed sigh. "You said you wanted nothing to do with me romantically. Sue me for moving on."

Charles stayed silent. You were right. And he was too late to even try and change your mind. He looked between the two of you. He wanted to argue but... what could he really argue here?

"Yeah- You're right... sorry." He mumbled. "I'll see you later, maybe?"

You nodded silently and he left, closing the door behind you.

Max was staring at you. You looked from the door back to him. "Hi," He said. You smiled and climbed back into the bed. He wrapped his arms around you again. "Are you okay?" He asked.

"I'm good," You smiled up at him.

"I know it's a little late now, but do you wanna go out on a proper date with me maybe?" He asked, shyly, with crimson cheeks and messy hair.

You smiled and nodded, "I'd love to, Max."

-

2019 (but later in the year)

(Age: 19)

Max cheered as he flew past the finish line. Pulling into first place he jumped out the car and pulled his helmet off, immediately running to find you. You were standing between Ferrari and Red-bull. He found you and immediately let go of the helmet and dragged you into a hug.

"My lucky charm now, all mine," He told you in your ear making you laugh. He pulled his head back and kissed you hard on the mouth. A teeth clashing, lip bruising, sort of kiss.

"You smell bad," You laughed softly, "but you are so welcome for helping you win."

He smiled, ignoring your first comment.

In post interviews he made clear that you were his lucky charm. And that no matter what you would always be just that.

-

2023:

November 26th

(age: 23)

Max had won the championship for his 3rd time in a row. He- as if ritual- immediately after winning in Abu Dhabi, rushed over to crush you in a hug. "I am so proud of you, baby." You said.

He looked at your face and kissed you. "My lucky charm since 2019." He smiled.

———

el fin.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Anyways like and subscribe for more content!!!!!!! 💋😡🫣😜😆

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {7}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: A short skip over the winter break and into 2024 season.. Warnings: 18+ only, fluffies WC: 2k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight

Christmas Eve 2023 - French Alps The air was still when you woke to a fresh dumping of snow on the mountain. The window provided a picture of tranquillity and the embers in the fire gave a peaceful glow to the dark wood walls. Charles had disappeared at dawn for a morning ski with Arthur and you squinted against the white glare to try and find them on the mountainside. 

You probably could have gone back to sleep if it wasn’t for the door crashing open and the sudden weight of a child on your legs. Penelope crawled up to the headboard with a squeal and jumped into your arms as Max just reached the bedroom door. 

“P, watch out for auntie’s tummy,” Max reminded. She now had to watch out for yours and Aunt Vicky’s tummy, since your sister had announced her pregnancy a few weeks ago. “Sorry, she slept the whole flight so she’s full of energy. I tried to get her to play with Luka but she wanted you.”

“That’s okay,” you said as she burrowed under the blankets and put her cold feet on Lando’s back. “Are you excited for Christmas?”

Penelope nodded eagerly while Lando slowly woke and you were grateful he was wearing a hideous pair of santa-themed pyjama pants. With even more children around for Christmas this year, everyone had taken to wearing pyjamas. It was good for moments like these, but bad for quick access when you were spooning in the night.

“Papa let me open some presents early!”

Max disappeared out of the room with a wave, heading back to his suite with Kelly down the hall. The small mountain retreat had been completely rented out for another combined family holiday and at the rate the Norris’, Leclerc’s and Verstappen’s were procreating, an entire resort would be needed to host you all next year. Your bet was on Max and Lorenzo becoming fathers next. 

“How exciting! And what did you get?”

Penelope held out her arm to show a mermaid inspired charm bracelet. “That’s beautiful!”

“It’s got Ariel!” she exclaimed, pointing to a red haired mermaid as she bounced excitedly. 

“Is that an earthquake?” Lando asked as he scooped the little girl up into a hug. “No, it’s little P. Why are you waking your favourite uncle up so early?”

“You’re not my favourite,” she said with a fit of giggles.

Lando hung his head and shook it with fake sadness. “Kids are brutal.”

“Kids are honest,” you corrected before kissing his pout away.

“Gross,” P said as she screwed up her face and started to climb off the bed to find ‘Maxie’. She did a sudden u-turn and scrambled across the bed to gently touch your stomach before leaning closer and whispering, “Bye-bye, baby. Love you.”

She was gone again, this time the door swinging shut as she left with no farewell for you or Lando. He let out a little chuckle as he pushed you back into the pillows and drifted down the bed, taking the blankets with him. 

“Hello, baby,” he murmured softly to the bump. At just more than half way along your bump could no longer be mistaken for overindulgence or bloating. “You are looking lovely and round this morning.”

“Wow, you really know how to sweet talk a lady,” you chuckled as you combed your fingers through his hair.

“Shh, I’m having a conversation with my daughter, no eavesdropping,” he warned with a smirk before brushing your shirt up and pressing a kiss to your skin before continuing his conversation. The moustache and shaped beard he was slowly but surely growing thicker tickled with each whispered word, the movement of his lips dragging the coarse hairs over your sensitive skin until goosebumps prickled. 

“I can’t wait to meet you,” he said with a smile as the door creaked open and Charles walked in with wind-kissed cheeks. “I just want to hurry up and hold you.”

“Patience, mon cher,” Charles said with a grin, depositing the second layer of cashmere he had worn under his ski jacket on the coat hook. “It’s only four more months.”

Lando groaned at the reminder before shifting on the bed to make space for Charles. 

“Anything you want to add this morning?” you asked. 

You reached for the hem of the shirt, ready to pull it down if it was a no when a knock had you freeze. No, it wasn’t a knock. The thud hadn’t come from outside, but inside. You dropped the shirt and stared at the jut of your hip, right where the skin went soft as it stretched up to your ribs. That soft tissue bulged ever so slightly as you felt the strange sensation of pressure and it drew a gasp that shocked your boyfriends.

“What? What is it?” Lando asked, his voice thick with concern. 

“Give me your hand,” you ordered, already reaching for one of each as you placed them on the spot. “Shhh, just shhh.”

You felt it again and Charles exhaled a shaky breath that ended in a joyous laugh before grabbing Lando’s hand and shifting it slightly. 

“Wha-”

“Shh,” you urged as Charles pressed a finger to his lips. The silence grew and everyone held their breath, waiting.

The air wooshed from Lando with an exclamation, “No fucking way!” His eyes grew wide and he stared at his palm as if the imprint of his daughter’s foot was permanently held on his skin. “Holy shit! She…she…kicked.” 

Charles wrapped an arm around Lando as their shimmering eyes met yours. Pure happiness saturated the room, spilling out into the hall as the door opened and Oliver appeared a little worried. “Everything okay? I thought I heard Lando screeching.”

“Everything’s perfect,” Lando grinned, ignoring the joke he had heard since hitting puberty. 

“She just started kicking,” Charles explained with an equally bright grin, while you danced your fingers along your side, trying to tickle her foot. 

“Core memory unlocked, huh?” Oliver laughed at his brother’s eagerness, remembering the first kicks with his own daughters. “Breakfast is ready when you are.”

“Thanks, we’ll be there soon,” Charles said as Oliver closed the door again.

“Do we have to?” Lando asked as he curled back down and stared at your stomach intently. “I could watch this all day.”

“You can stay but I am hungry, and she is now shy,” you teased as you pulled your shirt back into place and climbed out of bed. With a groan he followed you to the walk-in wardrobe, just like you knew he would. 

“Is the powder good?” Lando asked Charles while they changed into some casual day clothes perfect for the warm interior of the retreat.

“It’s perfect,” Charles all but moaned, it was hard to believe they were talking about snow but both of them loved to ski. “Arthur wants to head back out after lunch.”

Lando looked at you and you waved a hand. “Sheesh, babe, I’m not your keeper. You can go if you want.” 

Lando hated being away the most, not that Charles enjoyed it, but there wasn’t the same level of separation anxiety that Lando had. “I don’t want to leave you here on your own.”

“On my own?” you laughed and slipped your feet into some simple flats before heading to the door. As soon as it opened the cacophony of everyone congregating in the great room down the hall spilled into your room. “I couldn’t be on my own if I tried.”

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxvertappen1, maxfewtrell and 1,382,589 others yourusername This kid scored the gene pool the lottery. Merry Christmas from my family to yours.

Round One - Bahrain 2024 Fuel fumes drifted up from the pitlane to the balcony you stood upon as the start of the season's first race grew closer. It was strange to look down the entire length of billboards and see no new faces among the driver line up. Fernando still filled the garage beside Lance, but you held no resentment for your replacement. He was making the most out of an opportunity and it almost gave you hope that even after leaving Formula 1, maybe - just maybe - there was a way to get back in. 

Next year would be interesting with so many contracts up for renewal. It was a chance to see new faces on the grid, or perhaps some old faces returning if rumours were to be believed. You wouldn’t mind seeing Sebastian make a return. For the moment, everyone was still too busy talking about Lewis and his move to Ferrari to give much thought to the other shocks that might come with the disruption. The open seat at Mercedes was going to be sought after by every driver stuck in a midfield car. 

“You look deep in thought.”

You broke away from staring at the starting lights to accept a cup of herbal tea from your mother. “Just thinking about how the grid will look next year.”

“Gotta get through this one first,” she reminded. “Speaking of…it’s going to be hard having a newborn at home with those two away so much.”

“I know,” you sighed, resting your arms on the balcony rail as you blew the steam from the mug. The wall calendar at home was already marked with the first half of the season, all the nights Lando and Charles would be away circled in red ink. It had been collectively agreed that flying with a newborn wasn’t a great idea so you would only attend the races you could drive to until she was at least three months old. “This year’s calendar is fucking intense.”

“I want you to know you can call me day or night, sweetie, and I’ll be on the next plane.” She reached for your chin and turned you to face her as your throat clogged with emotion. “I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to do on your own, you saw it firsthand.”

“You’ve got your own life, I don’t want you to drop it all for me.”

She laughed softly and wrapped you in a careful hug. “You’re my daughter, you are my life, my granddaughter is too.”

“Thank you,” you sniffled and wiped your eyes, seeing the cameras in the pitlane pointed your way. “Gah, you made me cry. Now I’ll be on fucking Drive to Survive. I can already see the subtitles ‘Y/N crying as the season starts without her’. Wankers.”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at the camera and flipped them off, making you choke on a laugh. “So much maturity for a grandmother.”

“Yeah well I have been wanting to do that for a while, and I figure I can’t get you fired since you’re unemployed.”

You shared a grin and thought maybe you had more in common than you realised. You thought your fight came from Jos but now you saw a flash of it in her protectiveness and your chest warmed.

“I’m not unemployed, I’m a Lady of Leisure.” You laughed at the roll of her eyes before adding. “I might even get a Birkin for a push present to complete the initiation.”

“What the hell is a push present?”

“It’s a present a new mother gets for destroying her vagina pushing a baby out.”

It was her turn to choke on a laugh. “That’s a thing?”

“Apparently so.” 

“Does the baby not count as a gift?”

“Hmm, maybe you should go ask them?” you said as you jutted your head to the plethora of influencers walking around the grid taking selfies with everyone. She wrinkled her nose at the idea, quite content to stay out of the fray like you.

“No, thank you. Oh, there they are.”

You scanned the crowd and saw Max, Charles, and Lando walking out to the grid together, their heads huddled close as they tried to hear each other over the crowd. They made a beeline to the strips of red carpet and Max stood between the other two as they took their places for the national anthem.

“Looks like the podium lineup to me,” your mother whispered.

You chewed your lip and hoped the data from testing was as promising as it looked for McLaren and Ferrari. But you could never tell quite how much of it was real with the strategies and sandbagging. “I hope so, my boy’s need a good start this year.”

Click here for the next part.

[sinofwriting]

Out Loud - Charles Leclerc

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But seeing just for a few seconds was enough.

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

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

She is so unbelievably unready for what he actually says.

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

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

[ynbabe]

Fake texts au- pt.12 bffs with the rookies+ Monaco for one, please!

Literally love the way anyone older than them has to be the babysitter 😭😭😭

| Masterlist |

The week you spent with Oscar and Logan was perfect in every way possible. You woke up with perhaps the worst backache you'd ever had, almost unable to breathe because Logan had shited his entire weight on you... well, that part wasn't perfect but the dinner you had afterwards made up for every ache and pain.

Oscar's mum made every favourite dish of yours and Logans, leaving a very jealous Oscar but at the end of the day, the three of you fell into the same routine you did as kids.

Sleeping late, Waking up even later and eating junk till you couldn't eat anymore (much to the dismay of their trainers) the only different thing is that all three of you couldn't bunk on the same bed. So you took turns, as suggested by Oscar's mother because your first idea was to fight for a spot on the bed.

But sadly, the week had ended and you had to leave, you hugged Logan and Oscar goodbye and made your way to Monaco, where you'd spend the rest of the summer vacation with Arthur.

He'd invited you not wanting to be alone while his brothers had their girlfriends and the last time he'd invited one of his friends from Prema, his mom had pulled him aside and given him the 'you know you can tell me anything, right, son?' he'd simply told her that he was just a friend, and anyways she should have been having the conversation with Charles anyway, with whatever he had going with Max, or with Carlos or Pierre.

You were a little nervous to go, never having been around his family before. You'd met Charles before and had become pretty good friends with him and Max but his mom? His Eldest brother? That was a whole other story.

He picked you up at the airport, drove you to the house, you offered to uber as you weren't allowed to drive in Monaco anymore (its a long story) when you walked in you hadn't realised everyone would be over and were currently on Arthur's back trying to get your phone back for the boy, which he had stolen when he saw the picture of you and Logan, oscar had sent you.

You looked around the room to find Charles, his girlfriend, his eldest brother, and their mother, staring at the two of you with wide eyes.

You jumped off your friends' back, snatching your phone in the process, "Um, hi, I'm Y/n, nice to meet you all!" You smiled hugging Charles and shaking hands with everyone else, trying to ignore your entrance.

"I'll go get the bags, yeah," he muttered as he left, his eldest brother following him.

"Maman, C'est une amie d'Arthur, celle dont je t'ai parlé," (Mom, She's one of Arthur's friends, the one I told you about), Charles said something to his mother in French, you tried to decipher with whatever Arthur had taught you over the years but they spoke too fast.

"Celui qui l'a emmené faire la fête?" (The one who took him to party?) She replied, her voice displaying disappointment, making the girl awkwardly standing next to the door frown at Charles for translation.

"Maman..." Charles began but his mother shushed him, making him look down.

Suddenly, the older woman's face and body language changed, doing a total 180, "Y/n, I've heard a lot about you, from Arthur and Charles!" She said with a smile, making the girl slightly jump in surprise, "Come on, sit, the boys will get your bags," she invited the youngest woman to sit and nodded at Charles to help get the bags, he wanted to protest but was nudged in the ribs by Alexandra, making him walk out in betrayal.

"Uh, hi guys," she said awkwardly feeling a little out of place. She felt like she was in front of a jury assessing her every move to give her life in prison and by the look on the mother's face, they were leaning in favour of the death penalty.

"Hi, Y/n," Alexandra began, quickly leaning forward as soon as her boyfriend left the house, " I've seen you around the paddock before, but mostly in Mclaren and Williams," She began, "I thought you were dating Oscar, right? Or Logan?" She asked making the girl cringe, she couldn't imagine dating one of her friends.

"Um, no, we're just friends, all four of us," she explained, this is so weird.

"And what about the hyper little British one?" Pascale asked making you laugh,

"Lando? I'm going to save his name like that from now on!" You smiled, "No, no, not at all, I think he's a little too invested in Carlos to even think about dating," you joked hoping to change the conversation, Alexandra smiled but Pascale remained unchanged.

"I've noticed, he's a sweet boy," she nodded, "Are you dating my son?" She asked, not sugarcoating anymore, making you choke on your spit, Alexandra quickly rushed to your side, patting your back.

"Thank you," you took the glass of water she offered, "I'm not dating Arthur!" You yelled as soon as you finished drinking the water, making his mother look at you suspiciously at first then nod.

"Thank you for being truthful Y/n," She began, "My kids are everything to me and they only have me to protect them. Lorenzo and Charles are old enough to understand just how cruel life can be, but Arthur's still naive," she explained slowly. It seemed like Alex had heard the same lecture too.

"Maman! Tell Charlie to stop kicking me!" Arthurs's voice rang as the trio stepped inside, proving her point.

"Maman, please, both of them won't shut up!" Lorenzo complained at his brother's antics, in true older sibling fashion.

"Only because you are stupid," Both Arthur and Charles replied at the same time making the eldest groan and place your bag down, to swat the others. Charles had your duffle and Arthur held your haversack, currently using it as a weapon to hit his brothers.

"Boys!" Their mother called out, making them all stop and pick up your bags, and carry them to some room in the house. Alexandra smiled at their antics and Pascale just shook her head.

"Sweetheart, come on, let's have some dinner, I'm sure the flight has you hungry and tired," She practically dragged you to the dinner table. You sat next to Arthur, Alex and Charles in front of you and Lorenzo and Pascle and either head of the table.

After the strange test of sorts, everything was normal, you joked along with the others, and the brothers often fought making you and Alex look at each other and laugh. You were getting along with her the most, being quite close in age and humour. However, as the night continued the jet lag became more and more of a problem.

Arthur was the first to notice your head falling as you sat, "Maman, We are going to turn in," you both began to get up but Lorenzo spoke up, making you stop.

" Où penses-tu aller?" (Where do you think you're going?) The older man asked.

"Ma chambre ?" (My room?) Arthur answered.

"Non, elle couche avec Alexandra, tu restes avec Charlie," (No, she's sleeping with Alexandra, you're staying with Charlie) He replied making both brothers angry.

They started talking over each other, yelling and shouting, you definitely made out more than one curse word. You looked over at Alex silently asking if she knew what was happening, but she just shrugged.

"You're so annoying, Lorenzo, Je jure devant Dieu que j'aurai une chambre d'hôtel !" (I swear to God I will get a hotel room!) He screamed making everyone quiet down.

"Don't yell at me, it was maman's idea," he looked at his brothers a little guiltily, making everyone look towards the eldest woman on the table.

"It's okay, Charlie, reste avec ta petite amie, Arthur soit avec ton ami." (Charlie, stay with your girlfriend, Arthur be with your friend.) Everyone seemed to be okay with the decision, though you didn't know what the decision was.

Arthur patted your shoulder, making you get up and follow him to his room. As soon as you walked in you kicked your shoes off, falling face-first on the soft king-sized bed. He followed suit, dropping himself on the opposite end of the bed, and turning his head to face you.

"I don't think your brother and mum like me very much, Princie," You spoke in a soft voice, too tired to even sit up.

"Nah, they are just over-protective," he answered, his voice nothing but a whisper.

Slowly your eyes drifted shut, letting yourself succumb to sleep.

"Bonne nuit, chérie."

Taglist: @dark-night-sky-99 @cashtons-wife @i-wish-this-was-me @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eugene-emt-roe @fangirl-dot-com @landosgirlxoxo @aquangxl @sachaa-ff @tyna-19 @assholeinatrenchcoat

[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love masterlist

or; the situationship fic. summ. charles leclerc x female reader. all chapters 18+

—one: winter, the first time

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister.

—two: spring

He’s in control, navigating every corner and chicane with precision, never once giving into the pressure of the bullet behind him. Max tries, he tries and tries, to close in on Charles, but he holds him, defends his position with skill and tenacity that makes you attracted to a helmet, to the mind it protects. 

—three: summer

He hesitates, locks his gaze on the path ahead. “Life, I guess. Responsibilities, expectations, the weight of it all. It’s easy to forget to appreciate the simple things.” He shifts his steps slightly, brushes his arm against yours and makes you shiver. He makes you so nervous. You fucking hate that he makes you so nervous now. He’s looking at you, and you’re the one fixed on the trail. It’s a simple swap, but it feels heavy, it does. “Hey,” he says, soft. Comfortable.

—four: autumn

You’re sitting on the edge of the hotel bed when he gets back from media day, Ferrari polo and light wash jeans and a dumb smile greets you, grumpy with arms crossed over your chest. “Did you have to send me a fucking plane ticket?” You snapped.

—five: winter, the second time

Arthur’s eyes dart between the two of you. Charles, you, and then back again. Charles is lucky, his back is turned to the whole thing. You’re the one who has to deal with his questioning glances. He stirs sugar into his cold coffee, and the spoon clinks against the sides of the mug painfully loud. 

[marcos-scorpion]

Heyy a Charles Leclercx fem!reader request where he comes home exhausted and the reader is making him a romantic dinner he comes in while she is cooking listening to some old music and he sways her around the kitchen and then they just slowly dance around the kitchen all evening food long forgotten deeply in love with eachother thank you and love your work

il predestinato - Charles Leclerc x Reader

hihi !! so i was aiming for this to be totally fluffy, but there’s a lil angst, mostly around how this season is going for Charles and Ferrari. I really like this tbh, and although i wrote it pretty quickly, i think it’s cute! tysm for the request my lovely,, hope you like it!! requests are still open

warnings- lil sad cos of Ferrari and how they treat Charles,, mostly fluffy

w/c- 1489

——

Charles Leclerc was struggling this season. You couldn’t deny it, no matter how much you wished it wasn’t true. 

Ferrari disasterclass after Ferrari disasterclass were starting to weigh heavily on his mind. No matter how many positive interviews after less positive results he gave, how many toothy grins he shot your way after another day in the factory or on the sim, you could see how all of this was beginning to weigh on your boy. 

You knew he deserved more, every F1 fan knew he deserved more. You’d seen messages between him and Pierre, him and Max, hell even a few with Sebastian that showed that they knew he deserved more. You’d watched quietly as his brothers rallied around him, despite Arthur taking off in F2 and Lorenzo always having to dash off for meetings, his career being more demanding than people realised. You’d watched as Charles’ dreams crumbled under the pressure of the team, under the tyres of his once-beloved red car. 

He was meant to be ‘il predestinato’. The Predestined. One of the greats waiting to happen. He was meant to be fighting for that title, wheel to wheel with the Red Bull, the Mercedes, and, surprisingly, the Aston Martin. He was a front of the grid, top step of the podium driver, stuck with the team who had promised him the world, and left him to piece together the shards of the glory they had promised. 

You felt powerless in this all. A girl with a degree earned in student loans and scholarships, and no career to back it up, in a fast-paced world of the rich and important. Finding a place in Charles’ life had been difficult as it was, but you would do it all again to support him. Put your dreams of a Masters degree, and a doctorate, on hold. Sell your meagre little studio flat for the life so many dream of in Monaco. Leave family and friends behind for a world that would never quite be yours, no matter how many brands suddenly wanted to dress you for paddock appearances, no matter how much diamond jewellery Charles draped around your throat. What could a normal girl do to support someone like Charles, in a situation as delicate and important as this. 

Whatever you could. Anything you could. You celebrated his wins, commiserated and comforted after losses. Spent weekend after weekend in crowded garages, night after night holding him as his shoulders shook under the weight of everyone’s expectations, as tears ran in rivulets down his cheeks. 

Today was going to be a hard day for Charles. You had seen it in his eyes when he had left your shared apartment that morning. Another meeting with the Ferrari high-ups, another meeting where they blamed everything but themselves for the poor results ahead of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix this coming weekend. As soon as the lock clicked into place behind him, you decided you needed to do something today that could hopefully lift his mood. 

After spending most of the morning cleaning your home, washing his training gear and polishing the monitors on his sim, dusting trophies in the cabinets lining his office walls, a trip to the market began. The ingredients for Charles’ favourite food in your basket, you decided to stop and get a few more treats for him that would certainly anger his trainer. A bottle of his favourite expensive wine, pastries from the little stall he took you to the day you met, the chocolate his mum bought him after good results in kart races as a child. 

Hours later, after what felt like much longer leant over the stovetop in your kitchen, the rich smell of the sauce you were stirring filled the room, the soft sounds of Elvis crooning though the speaker settled safely on the windowsill. Charles wasn’t meant to be home until seven thirty, and it was currently just past five. Enough time to finish the sauce, lay out the good plates and light a few candles. Maybe change into something other than the pyjamas you had put on when you got back from the market. ‘Pyjamas’ being a pair of Charles’ boxers fresh out of the dryer and your faded university jumper. 

Tapping on your phone to increase the volume, you began to gently sway your hips to the intro to Suspicious Minds. So wrapped up in the music, you didn’t hear the front door click, or the bag hit the floor in the entryway. The footsteps making their way into the kitchen didn’t register, not until you felt an arm snake around your waist, palm pressed into the skin of your stomach and the waistline of the stolen underwear. 

You didn’t even flinch at the sensation on your skin, it was so familiar and comforting. Leaning back into his touch, you smiled lazily as your eyes met. 

“Hello, mon coeur.” He murmured, pressing his lips against your hair. 

Twisting in his arms, you let him fully wrap you in his embrace, feeling the tension melt away from the muscles in his back. It had been as bad a day as you’d expected, you could see the slight glisten in his eyes, the furrow in his brow. 

“Oh my darling,” you began “I take it the meeting didn’t go well?” You already knew the answer, but the tightening of his arms around your waist as he buried his face against your hair told you enough. 

You could feel his lips move against your scalp after a few moments, the words he wanted to say struggling to come out. He sighed, stepping back slightly, shifting his arms to press his hands onto your hips. “They’re blaming me. Saying I’m not working hard enough, not trying hard enough to adapt to the car. I’m going against all their plans, against how they’ve set everything out for me. As if it isn’t their bad strategy that’s fucking me over every race.” 

You suddenly felt insecure that your days-worth of work wasn’t going to help, or would even worsen his mood, that it was going against the plan designed by his team and his PT that was so clearly set out to help him be his best. 

“I-I wasn’t sure how you would be feeling, so I’ve tried to cook your favourite. But if you don’t want it, the pre-planned meal ingredients from your trainer are in the fridge. I can make that, o-or I got some pastries from that stall, the one from our first date? And some chocolate, the one your mum used to get.” You smoothed a thumb over the crease between his brows, “We can do whatever you want.”

His hands dropped from your sides, and his chin drooped towards his chest, and you began to panic more. “O-or I can call Pierre, or your brothers, and you can have a boys night, I’ll get out of your way. Whatever you need me to do.” 

His head is still down, and you’re so worried that you’ve made everything worse. But you weren’t expecting the look that you were met with when he raised his head. His eyes were shining more now, the glistening from earlier now lining his lashes with unshed tears. You weren’t expecting the sheer love that was emanating from his expression, his entire being. 

The smile he gave you could move planets, reignite the stars. Any insecurity and anxiety settled in your chest disappeared, replaced with a deep-rooted warmth. 

“Oh, my darling girl,” he sighed, “What good did I do in a past life to deserve you?” 

His arms snaked around your waist again, pulling you tight against him. He began softly swaying to the music still playing. 

“Sometimes, I think the universe made you for me. No one has ever done something so simple, yet so perfect. I think we were designed for each other mon coeur. Destiny did something right for once.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“You know, I used to think the nickname il predestinato was a curse. A label placed on me for such an unattainable dream. A ridiculous notion, and unexpected pressure. But I believe that I was your predestined. And you’re mine. And as long as I have you, all of those dreams are within reach again.”

The food was long forgotten, simmering away to itself, and the candles on the table would remain unlit, for tonight at least. Right now, nothing would feel better than dancing with the love of your life to the songs your parents loved too. 

And as the opening notes to Can’t Help Falling in Love With You began, and Charles reached around you to turn off the stove, twirling you to the song as he softly sang the words, you couldn’t help but agree with his sentiment.  

This love was written in the stars. Predestined. And maybe, that was all you two would ever need. 

[verdemoun]

spoilers spoilers for the love of god rdr2 chapter 6 spoilers.

so turns out the popular belief that arthur is set to be at minimum weight in chapter 6 is not true. through sheer dumb luck and determination i somehow managed to keep arthur overweight (5.25%+ health core) post-tb diagnosis and all the way to the end of the game. no mods i'm an old man i don't know how to use mods

how:

i had him at max overweight during Banking, The Old American Art.

during guarma he dropped down to average (3%+ health)

during missions i would eat a piece of big game meat before starting a mission, after the mission cutscene, just before the end of the mission, and after the mission was completed, which 90% of the time stopped arthur from coughing/choking

for research purposes, here's how some of the story beats hit different when arthur is sick but still overweight.

[big-boah-2]

Big Boah Arthur - Fatherhood & Other Dreams II

"Yeah, well-padded more like..."

[exhaustedalien]

PSA if you want to keep Arthur max weight or even just not underweight stop feeding him cans of food and start feeding him big game meat or any of the meat from the butcher that he has to cook.

I could go into more detail about how often you need to feed him and how much if anyone would like but for now just know that your 6'1" cowboy neopet needs to eat more than just beans.

[devilishlydumb]

So about the fics you’re writing… the larthur one is very appealing tbh😭 but I’d die for landoscar???

Could we have a snippet of both? Pretty please🥺

hiiiii! i'm gonna assume you want the landoscar harry potter au snippet because i'm very proud of this one hehe but if you meant the agents of shield one, just let me know!

anyways, both snippets under the cut! ♡

landoscar harry potter au, but make it oscar staring from afar while ignoring his friend group (the friend group in question: arthur, logan, dennis and an oc meant to represent the audience)

“There’s no way Max Verstappen is that funny,” Dennis says, scrunching his nose at the sight, “I see the guy on a daily basis and he’s never even tried to crack a joke.” They all focus on the scene before their eyes. Max keeps talking animatedly, everyone around him completely enraptured. Lando giggles, Alex laughs, George looks like he wants to rip out his own ears and Charles is just a mix of confused and fascinated. It checks.  “My brother says you just, and I quote, have to look past the cover. Whatever that means,” Arthur has his mouth full, making the words not as clear as he probably thinks they are, “I think he’s just been pining for years unable to say a thing to the guy. So.” Oscar’s eyebrows rise very comically if Nora’s reaction is anything to go by. His attention goes back to the group, zones in on Lando despite Charles being the reason why he looked again.  The thing is: he doesn’t like Lando Norris. He’s never liked him. Or. Well. That’s just not true. He used to. Like him, that is. And then the whole third year prank happened and Logan cried, Nora spent a night in the infirmary and Oscar decided that he hated the guy. Dumb teenage crush be damned. And yet… Everyone seems to like him. Adore him. He’s seen people from other houses cheer for Hufflepuff during matches dressed up in Lando jerseys, girls and boys alike swooning every time he spots the snitch. Oscar doesn’t get it, he’s literally just some guy. Sure, a somewhat funny and ridiculously charming guy, but… Just some guy at the end of the day. At least that's what he keeps telling himself.

and larthur being soft and tentative because that really is just their whole dynamic in this fic, so, yeah.

Dinner started approximately half an hour ago. Give or take ten minutes. And Lando is still finishing getting ready, Arthur waiting for him by the door, shoulder leaning against it. He had insisted on waiting despite the Brit’s reassurance that he would be fine on his own, that it was indeed part of his brother’s wedding weekend and while Lando could afford to be a little late, Arthur couldn’t. Not really. It hadn’t mattered. “On your left.”  Lando’s head snapped in that direction, finally seeing the shoe he had been looking for. They were late. So late. He was sure Max would be planning his death by now. Deserved. Truly. “You have the keycard? I think I lost mine. Who loses a keycard? S’not like we did much today! Where…? I don’t get it. Should be somewhere… Around here.” Lando’s voice is high-pitched, stress flowing through his veins.  Last thing he wants is to ruin their weekend. Which he won’t, but he’s nervous, so. Not like he can properly think things through. It’s not until Arthur is standing right in front of him, hands on his shoulders, worried expression on his face, that Lando allows himself to take a deep breath.  “I texted Charles. They know we’re late, it’s okay. Just, uh… A few threats about tomorrow’s dinner being the most important and all that.” He says it like it’s nothing, but Lando feels his insides churn. He nods a bit, looking at him, truly looking at him. Arthur’s brows are furrowed, like he’s worried Lando might snap at any time now. The weight of his hands on his shoulders is comforting, makes him feel centered, stops his mind from going into a spiral of “what ifs”. Lando manages a small smile in his direction, his hands traveling to the other’s forearms, squeezing lightly.  Thank you. I don’t get it. Thank you. Arthur smiles back, softly, before letting his hands fall down his arms until they’re not touching anymore and Lando’s taken back to Croatia.

hope u enjoy them both, let me know if you want to see more! ♡

[onboardsorasora]

Does Tennis star Daniel break his wrist also? How's he getting on? Is Max devoted boyfriend we all know him to be? Love the au sm!💖

OMG Pixie! Thank you for this ask! I'm so happy you enjoy it! 💗💗💗 Originally I had no intention of Danny getting injured, there was like a vague outline of what I wanted to happen for the US Open. Then I read this lovely ask and my brain pressed delete and then I furiously wrote this. It is not edited lmao, I hope it makes sense. I'll put it under the cut, we got a little angsty too.

Part 1 | Part 16 | Part 18

Part 17

It was in the second round of the US Open when it happened. In Arthur Ashe Stadium at prime time. A freak accident they called it. 

It was the second set, Daniel was returning a volley and he…tripped. The ball boys had accounted for all the stray balls except one that had fallen from one of their hands. They couldn’t stop play in time and instead of allowing himself to fall into the teen trying to retrieve the ball; Daniel pivoted with the grace of a UFC fighter and landed on his side. Heavily.

He had thrown his arm out reflexively to catch himself but his momentum was too much and long story short he was sat in the hospital in a cast. 

“At least it’s a clean break.” Blake had said, trying to find any silver lining. Daniel stared morosely ahead as the news (which he requested be kept on) kept replaying the moment of the fall and him immediately clutching his arm to his chest in pain. They were praising his quick thinking and agility for not injuring the poor boy with a montage of him being led from centre court to a standing ovation overlayed.

His phone was going off uncontrollably, but he was ignoring it. Max had called Blake immediately after it happened; he saw it live watching from Italy. They’d had no information for him then, and Daniel wasn’t sure if Blake had been keeping him updated. He hoped he was.

Daniel stared ahead for an indeterminate amount of time. He was in shock. How could it have gone so so badly in so little time. He was the fucking world number one; something he’d dreamt about for ages. He was on his way to win the final grand slam of the season and now…

The cast felt heavy against his chest where it rested. He couldn’t breathe under the metaphorical weight of it. 

“I want Max.” Daniel croaked out, clearing his throat. He hadn’t spoken since checking into the hospital, letting Blake and Micheal do all the work. 

“He’s sending his plane to take us to Spain. Red Bull are getting us a consultation with a Dr Mir to— apparently he’s the best at this sort of injury.” Blake offered instead, still texting feverishly.

“At least this was the final of the year. I mean outside of the invitational…” Michael trailed off.

“Where’s my phone? I— Max.” Daniel motioned with his good hand jerkily, hissing when he jostled his cast. Blake caved and handed him the device which he took to immediately facetime his boyfriend. 

Max answered before the first ring even finished. His worried eyes filled the screen and Daniel offered a small smile in spite of himself.

“Hey.” Daniel whispered, because he all of a sudden felt overwhelmed. 

“Danny! How— how are you feeling?” Max seemed like he just jolted himself into stillness. Maybe he had been pacing.

“Can I see you?” Daniel bypassed answering, because he wasn’t feeling up to trying to put words to the tumult inside him. It wasn’t all good all ways, not by a long shot. 

Max hesitated, and Daniel felt bad immediately. It was a stupid question, Max had just arrived in Milan, this was a full race weekend. There would be no opportunity.

“Sorry— fuck. That was a dumb question.” Daniel mumbled. 

“Vicky says that Dr Mir is like on call for Moto GP guys— so he knows what he’s doing. Hopefully you can get surgery this week a–and  then I can meet you in Monaco after the race, maybe? You can stay at my place— I have a week before singapore— I can help take care of you?” He said it all in a rush, as if thinking if he gave Daniel a moment to consider or answer he’d have declined. 

This was new for them, they were still new. They didn’t really know how the other were when they were losing or hurt. 

“Ok– yeah.” Daniel replied because, of course. He wanted to see Max, needed to be held by his boyfriend right now. And if everyone trusted this Dr Mir, then he would too. He could probably ask Fabio about him, or something. 

Everything was a rush and a blur after that. Daniel slept most of the flight to Barcelona, he was in surgery within two days and on some amazing painkillers. He didn’t much remember getting to Moncao or arriving at Max’s but he’d woken out of sleep enough with a cat randomly on or by him that he knew he was there.

Max arrived Sunday night, his hair still smelled like champaign. It was the best smell Daniel smelt when Max leaned over to kiss him while he was propped up on the couch. It was clear that Blake gave him all the information over the phone because he didn’t ask anything, just made himself comfortable on Daniel’s good side and cuddled him closer, tracing the lines of the cast lightly with his finger. Outlining the rose he knew to be there.

Daniel leaned into him easily. It was a shit situation, but Max was here.

[alicevanderlinde]

Echos of Love

TW: Torture, Blood, Gore, Mutilation, Amputation, mentions of death, starvation, dehydration- the works. If you're easily triggered by any of those things above, I highly suggest you don't read this.

Additional tags: Angst, Love, Emotional (I cried while writing this) Dark, Tragedy, Hurt, Pain, Recovery, mentions of pregnancy, Pregnancy. There's more I probably should add but my two brain cells have worked hard on this and I think they've reach max capacity sooo... Yeah.

I left this off on a small cliffhanger but I do have intentions of finishing it but also I was thinking about writing about the events leading up to this, so if you're interested please let me know.

Word count: 7064

Anyway with that, let's get into it. Hopefully you enjoy!

Alice's body jerks as the sensation of ice-cold water cascades over her, silencing her gasp with a cloth gag. Her eyes snap open, momentarily startled by the unexpectedness of the situation before quickly shutting again, wincing at the harsh brightness that intensifies her throbbing headache. The muscles in her arms ache, pleading for relief under the weight that agonizingly strains them. Judging by the relentless pain coursing through her, she surmises that she has been suspended like this for a significant amount of time.

Summoning all her strength, Alice forces her eyes open once more, only to find three men standing before her. While two of them remain unfamiliar, the man in the middle is unmistakably Colm O'Driscoll, her father's long-time rival. Alice scolds herself internally for allowing herself to be apprehended, despite her valiant attempts to elude them. She had resorted to violence, even inflicting harm upon some of them, but it all proved to be in vain.

In contrast to his associates, Colm appears immaculate, save for his unkempt, graying hair. Dressed in a white suit and matching hat, he exudes a certain elegance that clashes with the rough appearance of his companions. He commands the others to depart, and they promptly comply, leaving Alice alone with him.

"I must say, Miss Van Der Linde, or should I say Mrs. Morgan, I am delighted that you could join us." Colm remarks, his tone dripping with an unsettling satisfaction.

Alice mumbles something unintelligible, her words muffled by the gag. Frustration pushes her to exhale forcefully through her nose, eliciting a pleased chuckle from the well-dressed man.

"You see, my dear, it is quite rude to speak with your mouth full." He taunts with a touch of amusement, his grimy fingers tenderly tracing her cheek. Alice instinctively pulls her face away, desperate to escape his nauseating touch, but her bound position restricts any significant movement.

"I thought your daddy would've taught you better by now." Colm jests, his fingers now slowly exploring the contours of her jawline and descending towards her exposed chest to the small swell of her belly.

As Colm's fingers trace her small baby bump, she shudders, desperately trying to pull away, but the unforgiving chains that bind her keep her in place. She feels dwarfed and helpless, like a mouse trapped in a lion's den.

Tears stream down her face, uncertainty gnawing at her as she wonders if Dutch, her father, or Arthur, her lover, even know where she is. She had never meant to run off like she did, but the overwhelming influx of pregnancy hormones and anger had driven her away from the safety of the camp. Surely, they would've figured something was wrong by now, it's been weeks.

"Now, I demand answers, and you will provide them to me," Colm states, pausing momentarily to remove her gag. "If not, I will be compelled to do something I would rather not."

Her glare is defiant, but she remains silent.

He retrieves a cattle brand from the glowing embers of the fireplace, brandishing it dangerously close to her face, the intense heat radiating towards her. She instinctively closes her eyes, exhaling a breath she had unknowingly been holding.

"I won't tell you a damn thing." She declares with unwavering confidence, despite the fear coursing through her veins.

Shaking his head in disappointment, Colm clicks his tongue disapprovingly. The brand makes contact with her ribcage, causing her to scream in agony as she tries to lurch forward. Her hands, securely tied above her head, prevent any significant movement, intensifying the numbing pain that had plagued her arms for what felt like an eternity.

Her stomach churns, threatening to reject whatever little contents it holds as the stench of seared flesh lingers in the air. Struggling to catch her breath, every gasp a reminder of the torment, her cries transform into mocking, humorless chuckles.

"Go to hell." she croaks, her voice dry and hoarse from dehydration. Her head hangs low, her body growing weary from weeks of relentless torture. Every inch of her being throbs with excruciating pain, no part of her spared from these unspeakable acts.

"Now, I've instructed my boys to go easy on you because of your condition, but my patience is wearing thin, and your time is running out." he sneers.

Lifting her sunken head, she meets his gaze with a hollow chuckle. How could he possibly consider daily beatings as a lenient treatment? "You can't kill me... I'm too valuable, and we both know it."

"Don't flatter yourself, Alice. You're just as disposable as your mother was." he says, his voice laced with a sinister chuckle, aware of the pain those words cause her.

Her face twitches with sadness, the mention of her mother striking a devastating chord within her.

"You remember that, don't you? The way her head rolled on the ground after I severed it." he cruelly recalls.

Of course, she remembers. She was forced to witness the horrifying act as he took her mother's life. Her mother's agonized cries still echo in her mind to this very day.

As if on cue, the two men from before enter the room, brandishing the very axe used in her mother's brutal demise. The blade, still stained with her mother's blood after all these years, glistens menacingly.

She closes her eyes, desperately trying to transport her mind to a different place, but Colm grabs her chin with an iron grip, forcing her to confront the horrifying reality before her.

"Bring her down." Colm demands to his men, and they swiftly comply, handing the axe to Colm before approaching her and releasing the chains that had bound her wrists.

She collapses to the ground, her legs tingling painfully from being suspended for what feels like an eternity. Before she can gather enough strength to lift herself, the men forcefully drag her to the coffee table, compelling her to extend her right arm onto its surface. She resists, but his henchmen quickly remind her of her defiance by pressing a knife against her throat, while another firmly holds her arm in place.

Colm stoops down, examining the exquisite wedding ring on her finger-a symbol of the love Arthur had bestowed upon her-while the axe remains slung over his shoulder.

"Morgan spared no expense, did he?" he remarks, before straightening himself up and bringing the axe down with a brutal force that severs her arm right at the crook of her elbow. A blood-curdling scream escapes her lips, so loud and chilling that she can hardly believe it emanates from her own lungs. Through tears clouding her vision, she witnesses the vivid crimson spurt from the wound.

She slumps to the ground, clutching her severed arm, tears streaming uncontrollably as the pulsating pain resonates with each beat of her heart. All she yearns for is to be in Arthur's comforting embrace, where he would cradle her and whisper reassurances, promising that everything will be alright. However, the harsh truth sinks in-she is all alone, bleeding out.

Lost in her anguish, she fails to realize that Colm and his men have abandoned her, perhaps assuming she poses no threat or could easily escape.

With every passing second, her strength wanes, and she desperately scans the room for something to stem the bleeding, only to find nothing. Just as hope begins to fade, her gaze lands on the glowing embers in the fireplace.

Tears streaming anew, she shakes her head in disbelief. "Oh God, please, no!" she pathetically whispers, her throat raw and sore from her agonizing screams.

Summoning every ounce of strength, she painstakingly drags herself along the floor, reaching the fireplace. With great effort, she pulls herself up the small step, cautiously bringing her severed limb closer to the flickering flames. Through whimpers of pain, she feels the warmth searing the agonizing spot. Deep down, she knows that unless she cauterizes the wound now, death will be inevitable. Bracing herself, she presses what remains of her arm directly into the scorching flames, releasing a gut-wrenching scream as searing agony engulfs her.

She senses the blood curdling under the intense heat, every flicker of the flame reverberating through her entire being.

With sheer determination, she grits her teeth and forces herself to maintain her severed arm in place, emitting pitiful cries as the wound sears shut under the scorching flames. A mixture of relief and anguish washes over her when she finally deems it sufficiently cauterized. Slowly, she withdraws what remains of her arm, gasping for precious air as she teeters on the edge of consciousness.

-

The gang's tireless search for Alice has yielded no results, except for the sight of her trusted steed abandoned on the roadside, alongside her discarded weapons. The absence of any clue regarding her whereabouts, the unknown identity of her captors, and the uncertainty of her survival all mount with each passing day.

Over a month has elapsed, and the flickering flame of hope, once burning bright, now wavers perilously close to extinction.

Dutch bears the weight of guilt more heavily than the other members, haunted by the memory of pushing Alice away in a fit of rage when she dared to voice her dissent about their outlaw lives. She never revealed the reasons behind her stance, yet her resolve was unmistakable-leaving Dutch tormented with regret.

Arthur, returning from a mission assigned by Dutch, remained blissfully unaware of his wife's absence until a week had passed. Eagerly anticipating Alice's customary warm welcome upon his return home, he was instead met with somber faces and evasive gazes from his fellow gang members. In that moment, the sinking feeling of something being terribly amiss settled deep within him, amplifying when John urged him to speak with Dutch.

Reluctantly, Dutch disclosed the devastating news to Arthur, who, despite his exhaustion, roused himself and ventured once again into the unforgiving wilderness, embarking on a desperate quest to find his beloved.

Arthur, Dutch, John, Javier, Charles, and Kieran persistently continue their nomadic search for Alice, yet every day seems to lead them to another disheartening dead end. Assailed by sleepless nights, Arthur rises at dawn, unable to find solace in more than an hour of rest at a time, acutely aware of Alice's absence and longing for her comforting presence. He, in turn, rouses his weary comrades, commencing their search before the sun truly graces the sky.

Weeks turn into an agonizing blur of fruitless endeavors, leaving the men utterly fatigued. While their shared worry is palpable, hope has relinquished its grip on all but Arthur. His heart relentlessly yearns for his love, shattering a little more each day in her absence.

"Arthur, my boy, I understand your anguish, but we must return." Dutch's fatherly tone contends as Arthur finally succumbs to the overwhelming weight of exhaustion.

"She's out there somewhere, Dutch... We cannot abandon the search now." Arthur pleads desperately, his entreaty conveying the depth of his desperation.

"We will take two days to rest and regroup. We're going to find her, son." Dutch states firmly giving Arthur's shoulder an reassuring squeeze.

As Arthur prepares to protest, his gaze traverses the countenances of his comrades, their visages mirroring the toll their relentless quest has taken. Their exhaustion is unmistakable.

Arthur's thoughts consume him, separating him from the company of his fellow men as they journey back to camp. Haunted by the ghosts of Eliza and Issac, his mind is plagued by the agonizing memories of when he failed his own family. Fear grips him tightly, leaving him to dread the possibility that Alice will too become nothing more than a specter, leaving behind a trail of haunting recollections of their once cherished moments. Every stolen glance, every tender kiss, every loving embrace, and every passionate night of affection will be transformed into memories too painful for him to bear. Though these moments were filled with happiness, they now serve as cruel reminders of his own shortcomings.

Lost in his own inner turmoil, Arthur fails to notice the men have moved ahead, drawing nearer to the familiar refuge of the camp, hidden within the embrace of nature's lush thickets. The weight of the world seems to collapse upon him, draining the very life from within. His heart throbs with an anguish he could never have conceived, not even when Mary had shattered his heart.

Silence engulfs the world around him, depriving him of the once beautiful songs of nature. The vibrant hues that once charmed his eyes and mingled to create breathtaking sights are now invisible to his desolate gaze. Lost and trapped within the depths of this darkened pit of despair, Arthur finds himself unable to locate the way out, sinking deeper into the abyss.

The piercing shriek of a woman from the gang shatters Arthur's thoughts, snapping him into action. Urging Boadicea into a fierce sprint, he leaves the other men trailing behind in a swirling cloud of dust.

As Arthur reaches the scene, a cluster of women obscures his view, shielding him from something he is unsure if he is prepared to witness. Dismounting with remarkable speed, he moves through the gathering, his heart racing with desperate hope for answers.

Navigating through the crowd, a glimmer catches the corner of his eye, drawing his attention. And then he sees it: her arm, severed and coated in a crimson sheen of blood. His gaze fixates on the ring he had once given to her, still adorning her finger - A promise of a better future. It serves as a grim message delivered to the gang, a haunting message directed squarely at him.

A roar of anguish rumbles from Arthur's core as he crumbles to his knees. In that moment, all the pent-up emotions that had been simmering within him surge forth, overwhelming him. The hope he had clung to for finding her alive starts to slip away, leaving only a void of despair.

The men wade through the scene, their gaze fixated on the gruesome message laid bare before them. Dutch's eyes meet those of his gang members, seeing the distraught in their eyes, it break him. They yearn for his charismatic words of guidance and inspiration, but in this moment, his well of eloquence runs dry. He turns his back on the gang, just when they need him the most.

A heavy silence settles upon the group, broken only by the sound of shared sobs intertwining with Arthur's anguish. In this harrowing moment, every untamed soul within the gang is subdued, their spirits momentarily quelled by the weight of grief.

-

Alice stirs, awoken by the sharp pang of pain coursing through her weary and battered body. Trembling, she musters the strength to rise from the unforgiving ground, her every movement a testament to the weight of her abuse and the loss of her own precious blood. Leaning against the wall for support, she feels its steadfast presence providing a meager solace.

A deep breath steadies her as she observes her now cauterized arm, the wound still fresh and angry, radiating heat. The acrid scent of seared flesh lingers in the air, intensifying the nauseating feeling swirling within her gut.

Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, Alice's left hand begins tracing gentle circles on her belly. Throughout her cruel captivity, she has watched her belly slowly swell, a constant reminder of her entrapment. Bound and without respite, she has longed for the chance to touch and connect with the life growing inside her, a torment in itself.

Yet, a sense of empowerment surges within her as she realizes that this growing life within her has endured every ounce of suffering the O'Driscolls inflicted upon her. Against all odds, this child has clung to her, bringing a flicker of hope amidst the depths of her nightmares. Tears well up as laughter escapes her lips, envisioning the resilience and stubbornness inherited from his father. From the moment she discovered her pregnancy, she knew deep within that she would be blessed with a son.

And then, in that fleeting moment, she feels it-the delicate flutter of a tiny kick dancing at the tips of her fingers.

A loving smile graces her chapped lips as tears of joy spill from her eyes. "We're going to make it, Jr." she murmurs tenderly, embracing the glimmer of faith in their shared survival.

Grasping the mantle of the fireplace with a whimper, she hauls herself up, the soreness crashing over her body in relentless waves. Every fiber of her being protests, aching with the weight of agony she endures. Yet, fueled by an unwavering determination for her son and Arthur, she persists, forging ahead despite the torment.

With a sense of haste, she rummages through drawers, desperately searching for anything to cover her exposed flesh. Finally, she uncovers a worn shirt, its size engulfing her form, but she lacks alternatives and time is of the essence. Slipping it on, she finds solace in the makeshift garment, even if it embodies the appearance of a nightgown. Carefully, she knots the sleeve at the site of her missing arm, a task made all the more difficult without the aid of her right limb.

The longing for freedom tugs relentlessly at her heartstrings. The thought of breathing in the fresh air and feeling the comforting warmth upon her skin consumes her thoughts. As her fingers brush against the cold metal of the door handle, a gentle yet distinct kick in her belly redirects her attention, drawing her focus to the hushed voices of the O'Driscolls looming just beyond.

She scolds herself for allowing her desires to cloud her judgment, realizing the potential dangers that lie beyond the walls that confine her.

Realizing that her initial plan of simply walking out of this place is highly impractical, she starts to formulate a new, more cautious strategy. Being surrounded by O'Driscolls in their territory, she knows she must proceed with extreme caution to ensure her safe return home.

Without a clear idea of her location or the distance to camp, she understands the importance of careful planning and execution to navigate her way back.

She finds a fire poker and arms herself, preparing for whatever may lie ahead. She carefully assesses her surroundings before quietly making her way through a window, mindful of her limited mobility caused by the absence of her right arm. In a moment of misstep, she accidentally hits her seared stump against the window frame, suppressing a cry of pain and biting her lip to mask it. Instinctively she adjusts her position to protect her pregnant belly from any harm, landing on her side directly on her nub.

Lying face down in the dirt, she takes a moment to compose herself, determined to remain as inconspicuous as possible, breathing softly so as not to draw attention to herself.

She resents her own weakness, engulfed in feelings of self-pity as she becomes acutely aware of her helplessness in this moment. Overwhelmed by defeat and fury, she unleashes her frustration by forcefully punching the ground, silently weeping as the unrelenting pain taunts her body.

Upon hearing approaching footsteps, she swiftly hoists herself up from the ground, seeking immediate cover behind a crate. Her grip on the fire poker tightens so intensely that her pale skin turns even whiter.

For a brief moment, she closes her eyes, fully cognizant of the potential consequences her next move may bring. Her ears strain to catch the distinct crunch of gravel as the man's boots draw closer, his spurs audaciously jingling, taunting her senses.

As the man notices the open window, cursing under his breath, he becomes aware of the fact that she must be somewhere out here. He begins to open his mouth, likely to alert his comrades, but before he can utter a word, Alice bursts out of her hiding place, consumed by an unhinged rage. With a swift and brutal strike, she delivers a devastating blow to his head, splitting his skull open, causing his eye to violently dislodge from its socket.

He collapses to the ground lifelessly, already gone before his body hits the earth like a sack of potatoes. Alice, consumed by a red haze of rage, continues mercilessly attacking his lifeless form with the fire poker. With each crushing blow, his head becomes an unrecognizable mess of blood, skull fragments, and brain matter.

Gasping for breath, she fights to steady herself, battling the encroaching dizziness as she surveys her surroundings. Her eyes lock onto the horses tethered a few yards away from the entrance of the dilapidated cabin, but to her dismay, she realizes that four O'Driscolls are standing alongside them.

Her trembling hand retrieves the revolver from the fallen man's gunbelt, attempting to aim it at one of the O'Driscolls. But the horrific shaking in her hand, coupled with the fact that her dominant arm had been severed, makes it almost impossible to steady her aim.

In a desperate attempt to assert herself, she fires a warning shot into the air, hoping to catch their attention and draw them towards her location. Her heart pounding, she swiftly heads towards the woods, her plan to lead them away so she can seize one of the horses and embark into the unknown wilderness.

Moving with a lightness in her step, she cautiously observes the O'Driscolls from a safe distance as they cautiously approach their fallen comrade. Desperation fueling her movements, she sprints towards the horses, pushing against her body's desperate plea for rest.

With a swift motion, she mounts the closest horse, urgently digging her heel into its side, urging it into a full gallop. Struggling to control the horse with her remaining hand, she dreads the prospect of having to relearn everything. However, for now, such thoughts must be set aside. The sweet taste of freedom is tantalizingly close, and she is determined to grasp it.

She desperately scans her surroundings, her line of sight flickering in search of any clue about her location. Determined to focus on the journey and the destination rather than the pulsating pain at the end of her severed arm, she tries to ignore the agonizing throb that intensifies with each powerful stride of the horse. However, her hopes are dashed as her gaze is met only with the vastness of untouched nature stretching along the road. Normally, she would relish these moments, savoring the sights of new places at her own leisure. But now, her mind is consumed with finding her family.

Just as despair begins to creep in, her eyes catch sight of a weathered road sign, its carved wooden surface revealing the word "Annesburg." Relief washes over her, knowing that she has found what she sought. However, a heavy sense of trepidation settles in her heart. Recalling from memory, she realizes that Annesburg is a challenging two and a half days' ride from her current location, and that's without any breaks. Already drained by exhaustion, dehydration, and malnutrition, the thought of enduring such a grueling journey fills her with apprehension. She knows she must remain vigilant, constantly watchful for any danger lurking in the shadows.

Adding to her worries, she has no idea how to navigate her way from Annesburg to Horseshoe Overlook. The mental image of the map Arthur had gifted her is now nothing but a blurry recollection, leaving her feeling disoriented and lost.

-

Arthur finds solace within the confines of his tent, purposefully keeping the cloth flaps closed to shield himself from the outside world. Tears flow freely down his face, grief consuming him like never before. Clutched tightly in his hands, he holds onto the dress she wore on that fateful day, the day she became his.

As his fingers delicately trace the intricate designs woven into the soft fabric, memories flood his mind. He recalls how she transformed into a vision of ethereal beauty, her hair cascading in lustrous black curls, dancing freely in the wind. Accentuating her curves, a dress Arthur bought embraced her figure flawlessly. In that moment, she seemed otherworldly, a goddess worthy of adoration.

Arthur is forever captivated by the sparkle in her emerald green eyes, which shone with the warmth of the setting sun. Those eyes, filled with unconditional love and unspoken promises, are etched in his memory, an everlasting testament to their unbreakable bond.

He had always felt unworthy of her affection, constantly believing that she was far too good for him. She possessed an innate goodness, a selflessness that pushed her to help everyone within the gang and extend her helping hand to strangers in need. She would even put herself in harm's way to protect those she held dear. It was through these selfless acts that he had uncovered the depth of her feelings for him, as well as his own for her.

Their hidden emotions were finally revealed during a harrowing encounter with Bounty Hunters on a job. Surrounded and outgunned, fear may have gripped her heart, but her stoic facade remained unyielding. In the face of danger, her unwavering strength ignited a fire within Arthur, inspiring him to fight tooth and nail to escape the perilous situation they found themselves in...

As they cautiously made their way back to safety, Alice couldn't shake off the unease that lingered in her gut. She expressed her worry to Arthur, a faint whisper hinting that they were still being watched. Yet, her concerns were swiftly dismissed, her nervousness brushed aside as baseless fears. Arthur assured her that there was nothing to be concerned about, oblivious to the imminent danger.

But Alice's instincts proved sharper than his awareness. In an instant, she spotted the glint of a sniper's scope, long before Arthur even registered its presence. Time slowed as she valiantly threw herself in front of him, taking the bullet intended for his heart. It was a kaleidoscope of surrealism as a mist of crimson paint splattered the air, staining his face, forever etching the price she had paid for his safety. They narrowly escaped the ambush, and Arthur emerged unscathed, shielded by Alice's selflessness.

Her body bore the consequences of her heroic act, hanging on to the last remnants of consciousness. The following day, as she awoke from her slumber, Arthur hovered nearby, a mixture of anger and regret clouding his expression. He unleashed a torrent of emotions, blaming her for her recklessness, unable to comprehend why she had thrown herself into harm's way to save him. Initially, he allowed no room for her to respond, cutting her off at every attempt. But then, something within her snapped, and her voice rose defiantly, declaring, "I did it because I am in love with you!"

As her words hung in the air, Arthur fell silent, his hand absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck. He yearned to protest, list all the reasons why she should not love him, highlighting scars and mistakes that marred his being. Yet, before he could utter a single word, she took advantage of his slightly agape mouth, meeting his lips with her own in a tender, passionate moment. In that unexpected kiss, he realized the truth - that those stolen glances, those blushes, and that sweet, innocent smile she reserved for him were all a reflection of her love. A love that accepted him for who he was, flaws and all, warming even the coldest reaches of his heart.

His lips quivered with a bittersweet smile as he recalled the extraordinary transformation that unfolded from that fateful day. A love story that once seemed unimaginable had unfolded before his eyes.

Their first time together was a tapestry of vulnerability and tenderness. He couldn't help but notice the scar on her shoulder, a permanent reminder of the sacrifice she made for him. It haunted him, threatening to overshadow the beauty that lay before him in the dimly-lit hotel room they had sought refuge in. Overwhelmed by guilt, he turned away, fearing for her safety and the uncertain future they faced. But, in that moment, she reached out and gently took hold of his hand, her eyes speaking volumes.

Their stolen moments of affection, concealed from prying eyes and her overbearing father, burst forth after a night of drunken vulnerability. Craving each other's touch, they longed to break free from the confines of secrecy. And, fueled by their profound connection, she summoned the courage to defy the disapproval of Dutch, choosing to stand by Arthur and declare her love.

The day he proposed to her was a moment suspended in a world beyond their troubles. Overwhelmed with stress from Dutch's interference in their relationship and her own fears of Arthur pulling away, she had been carrying a heavy burden that week.

Unbeknownst to her, Arthur's distant behavior was not due to Dutch but rather his own struggle to find the perfect way to propose. His heart ached with memories of Mary Linton rejecting his marriage proposal, her father's disapproval leaving him feeling unworthy. That night, as the gang gathered around the comforting glow of the campfire, Arthur felt a surge of determination.

Taking her trembling hand, he admitted his regrets for the distance between them and revealed his intention to make amends. With a tender sincerity, he knelt down before her, offering a ring he had saved for months. The emotions consumed him, causing him to deviate from the rehearsed poem he had written. Instead, his heartfelt confession of love flowed effortlessly from his lips, surpassing his anticipation.

The joyous reaction she unleashed as he slipped the ring onto her finger remains etched in his memory. The exhilarating sound of her excited squeal reverberated through his mind, propelling him to rise and meet her lips with an overwhelming surge of affection.

And on the day they joined in matrimony, a month before her eventual disappearance, everything fell into place with a sense of urgency and secrecy. With the assistance of his loyal gang members, Arthur orchestrated a spontaneous celebration, transforming the camp into a romantic haven. John, understanding the importance of the day, took Alice into town to keep her occupied.

Little did Alice know, as she went about her day, that her own secret was about to be revealed. Seeking answers for occasional sickness, she had visited a doctor who confirmed the miracle growing within her womb-an unexpected pregnancy already one month along. Overwhelmed with worry that Arthur might abandon her, she confided in John, who reassured her that Arthur would embrace this second chance for family.

As the day wore on, anticipation built within Alice. John brought her back to camp, her eyes widening in astonishment and disbelief at the sight before her. A trail of delicate rose petals guided her, until she found Dutch standing proudly, his arm outstretched to escort his daughter down the makeshift aisle. Tears brimmed in Dutch's eyes, a mixture of joy and bittersweet emotions as he fulfilled his role.

Arthur, having taken meticulous care to prepare himself, stood awaiting his bride. He had meticulously groomed himself, receiving a fresh haircut and trimming his beard to a handsome 5 o'clock shadow. He even had a suit tailored for the occasion. Alice's heart swelled with love and admiration as she took in his dashing appearance.

To set the perfect ambiance, Javier strummed his guitar, serenading the couple with heartfelt songs of love. The melodies filled the air, enhancing the profound significance of the moment.

The kiss they shared in that poignant moment, right after sealing their vows, transcended any previous display of affection. It was an electrifying connection that stirred their very souls and left an indelible mark on their lives.

Aware of the profound impact this news would have on their future, Alice made a conscious decision to keep her pregnancy a secret for the time being. She understood the responsibilities of Arthur's upcoming lengthy and perilous job, which would separate them for at least a week. Alice was determined not to distract him or inadvertently endanger him.

The entrance of the tent allows a stream of blinding light to infiltrate, momentarily obstructing Arthur's vision. Shielding his eyes with his arm, he discerns the silhouette of a familiar figure, John.

"Hey Arthur, how are you?" John's voice carries a blend of hesitancy and sorrow.

Arthur's mind is consumed with thoughts of Alice-how she's faring, or if she's even alive. "I'm... alright." he musters weakly, hardly convincing even himself.

"I know you miss her, Arthur. We all do." John offers empathetically.

"She ain't your wife." Arthur retorts defensively, unintentionally lashing out amidst a whirlwind of emotions. His frustration unwittingly directed at John.

"No, but she's like a little sister to me." John utters with a heavy sigh, taking a seat on the chair beside the cot. His eyes dart nervously, while he rhythmically taps his knees.

"John, I appreciate you checkin' in on me, but right now, I just want to be alone." Arthur confesses solemnly, yearning for solitude with only her presence.

"There is something I need to tell you... about Alice." John discloses, sensing Arthur's eagerness. However, an overwhelming hesitation freezes him, unsure if he should share the information.

John's continued silence exacerbates Arthur's sense of foreboding.

"What?" Arthur presses, observing the wheels turning in John's mind.

"I... It can wait. It ain't my place to tell." John says, shaking his head. He alone bears the knowledge of Alice's secret, the life growing within her, and the burden weighs heavily upon him. John acknowledges that Arthur deserves to know he will be a father once again, but he can hardly begin to fathom how Arthur will react. With the uncertainty surrounding Alice's well-being, adding news of her pregnancy to the mix would only deepen Arthur's anguish.

"What the hell do you mean it's not your place to tell me?!" Arthur stands tall, gripping John's shirt and forcibly lifting him from his seat. "What do you know about my wife?!"

"Arthur, you can't handle what I have to say!"

"Tell me, damn it!"

"I can't." John insists.

"You sure as hell can!"

"Arthur, please calm down."

"Just tell me! I can't stand not knowin' any more!"

"She's pregnant, Arthur!" John finally confesses. In that frozen moment, the world stands still. Arthur's grip on John's shirt loosens, causing John to stumble and collapse onto the ground.

Arthur's anxiety causes his chest to heave uncontrollably, his world crumbling around him with even greater intensity. Observing the flicker of unwavering determination within Arthur's piercing icy-blue eyes, John quickly rises and places a steadying hand on his chest.

"Arthur, you can't venture back out there." John pleads urgently.

"I won't waste another moment waitin'. I'm goin' to find her." Arthur declares resolutely, forcefully bypassing John and striding purposefully across the camp.

"Arthur, you ain't in the right state of mind. You need to rest." John implores, trailing closely behind.

"And sit idly while whoever has her inflicts more harm? There's no way in hell I'm stayin' here." Arthur retorts, his gaze fixed ahead as he forges onward, with John doggedly following in his wake.

"She wouldn't want you to sacrifice yourself, Arthur." John says, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Those words strike a raw nerve within Arthur, causing him to abruptly turn and stalk over to John. He halts inches away, leaning in close with a dangerous intensity. The scent of cigarette smoke lingers on Arthur's breath, a testament to his inner turmoil.

"How could you possibly know what the hell she would want?" Arthur growls icily, his fists clenched tightly by his side.

"What if something were to happen to you? What if you were to die? If she's still alive, it would devastate her."

"I can't bear not knowin' if she's alive or dead. And now, knowin' that my child is growin' inside of her, I won't rest until I find her, even if it means dyin' in the process."

"What if she returns and you're not here?"

"I failed her once already. I need to find her." Arthur asserts, his voice filled with anguish. "She's my entire world, John. The pain of not knowin' if she's safe is tearin' me apart."

"We don't have any leads on her whereabouts. We don't even know who has taken her. You know she would never forgive herself if anythin' were to happen to you. Alice is strong. She'll find her way back to us... But you have to stay. If you don't, you'll only end up gettin' yourself killed."

-

With each passing moment, the battle against her exhaustion becomes increasingly daunting. It has been over a day and a half since she escaped, and her body's desperate need for sleep grows harder and harder to ignore. Every second that ticks by serves as a testament to her unwavering strength and determination, pushing through the waves of pain that crash relentlessly against her weary form.

Her eyelids struggle to stay open, heavy with fatigue. A cacophony of growls erupts from her belly, a painful reminder of the hunger that gnaws at her from within, as if her insides are being devoured. The sight of water makes her mouth water uncontrollably, a relentless plea for respite from the unquenchable thirst that courses through her. Yet she soldiers on, fueled by an unyielding determination to reach home, to once again find solace in the embrace of Arthur's arms.

Lost in an unfamiliar landscape, she questions if she's even heading in the right direction. Everything blends together in an indistinguishable blur, creating a disorienting maze of uncertainty. She cannot even be certain if she is still among the living, though the excruciating pain she endures seems inconsistent with her imagination of the afterlife.

In an instant, her senses are blanked out, only to gradually return as she awakens on her back, sprawled out in the unforgiving embrace of the dirt road. Though she has fallen from her horse, the pain that courses through her body somehow feels distant, as if her senses have numbed in response to the impact.

A familiar warmth envelops the tightly wound sleeve that conceals the space where her arm used to be. Weary eyes trace the crimson stains that saturate the grimy fabric, a stark reminder that she is till alive as blood flows from her wound. She shuts her eyes, summoning every ounce of strength within her to rise from the ground, but all she manages is to shift onto her side, slowly dragging herself along the unforgiving road.

As she inches forward, a gradual seepage of blood permeates the threads of her shirt, each step reopening the raw, tender flesh beneath Colm's branded mark. The fabric clings to the jagged edges of her torn skin, amplifying the pain that accompanies this hellish journey.

-

John successfully persuaded Arthur to take a stroll along the outskirts of the camp, leaving behind a departed Dutch. The gang can't shake off the feeling that their unity is gradually unraveling, similar to the frayed fabric of a well-worn shirt.

The sight of Arthur in such a distraught state is an unfamiliar one for John. He's used to seeing Arthur hold his composure during even the most critical moments. However, something vital has been torn away from him, leaving him disoriented and incomplete, as if a part of himself is missing.

Meanwhile, Dutch has been absent since last night. He ventured into Valentine, seeking solace in a few drinks to clear his troubled mind. Unfortunately, the whiskey only amplifies his dark thoughts and intensifies his longing for his daughter. Ever since Alice's birth, Dutch had made a solemn vow to protect her at any cost.

Still teetering on the edge of intoxication, Dutch sets off, without a clear destination or purpose. He can't determine if his little girl is even alive anymore, which weighs heavily on his conscience. The loss of his daughter, coupled with witnessing the hardship inflicted upon her husband, reminds him of the tragic events surrounding Annabelle. At least, in Annabelle's case, Colm killed her swiftly, sparing Dutch prolonged uncertainty. In this instance, he finds himself caught in a similar torment.

Continuing down the road, Dutch estimates that he's roughly a mile away from camp. Consumed by his thoughts, he edges closer to succumbing to defeat when a sight catches his attention: his little girl, slowly dragging herself along the road in agony.

Dutch's heart both leaps with anticipation and sinks in despair. A trail of blood follows her, evidence of her desperate attempt to find her way home. Tears well up in his eyes as he dismounts his horse and rushes to Alice's side. The sight of her tortured state is gut-wrenching and heartbreaking. Her body is adorned in bruises, and her arm has been cruelly amputated. He already knew her arm was cut off thanks to the horrid message sent to them but seeing it first hand was something he wasn't ready for.

The phrase "My poor baby" escapes Dutch's trembling lips as he struggles to maintain composure. Alice gazes up, her pain-stricken face managing to muster a smile. Through labored breaths, she utters, "Daddy." The relief is palpable as she realizes that he has found her.

Without a moment's hesitation, Dutch scoops her up into his arms. Despite the weight loss she has endured, Alice still feels somewhat heavy in his arms.

"Don't worry, Alice. We're going to make it back home." Dutch reassures her, determination burning in his eyes. He sets off on foot, determined to carry her the entire mile back to camp. He knows that in her current weakened state, it's not safe for her to be on horseback.

Speaking softly, Alice's fragile voice breaks the silence. "Daddy... is Arthur alright?" Her words tug at Dutch's heart, but he masks his worry with reassuring strength.

"He's going to be just fine, sweetheart. Right now, our priority is getting you back home." Dutch responds, his voice filled with both love and conviction. With each step, he holds Alice closer to his chest, enveloping her in his familiar warmth.

A faint, weary smile forms on Alice's lips. She nods briefly, understanding the need to conserve her diminishing energy. Closing her eyes, she succumbs to the overpowering urge to sleep, finding solace in the thought that her father has found her and will keep her safe.

Author's note: I've been in a dark place so this fic got dragged down with with me. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. I'm bad at this shit, I've also been procrastinating about posting this because like, I'm me and I'm fearful of putting this out there and people won't like this but here we are... Bye

[robozombii]

some fanmade designs for a royal inconvenience, an au fic by @nemesis-is-my-middle-name ! (((please read it.))) there arent too many descriptions of clothing which sort of let my imagination run wild. heres a ramble

the fic states that arthurs wounds are easily visible except for his chest and such, so i figured his clothes would be relatively light, yknow? the inspiration from ancient greek clothing kinda came on its own but it feel similar to what people draw on angels, and arthurs wings arent conventional but he can join them too!

after his design, i felt the fantasy vibe of this au should be cranked to the max and wanted vivi and lewis’ designs to feel like they came from various regions. vivi has a lot of warmers and a big scarf that she can actually control! (with like… magic. yknow) and a sword that she has yet to master. lewis is a bit more basic but thats mostly because i like to believe hes just this ordinary member of a family business forced to go on adventures to maybe help out back at home (maybe a dire situation calls for financial aid aka STEAL GOLD) so his outfits more casual and the tied cloth around his waist is his uniform from home!

i have a ton more details thought up about this au that i may tell over time, but this is it for now! you may wonder why exactly i made these refs. one: for my own enjoyment. two: if i can manage to, i might eventually start a comic interpretation of the original fic, but itll take some work. i am excited nonetheless as comics are a medium ive rarely dealt with, and itd be nice to learn using one of my favorite msa aus!

ill sign off with a few sketches of arthur as a child. i think his wings would naturally be covered in light grey down feathers like an actual baby crow lol. also, that at such a young age he wasnt good at using them like an elephant baby might not know how to use its big trunk. so, when running around, he underestimates the weight of his big wings and topples over from time to time