#Also question if anybody does see this

[2econdsof1sts]

I have no self control

[astriaels]

they are so similar sometimes …. guh

[takethebodymarc]

what's a trait you've gotten ever since you started watching qsmp?

words, phrases, hell the way you laugh or act, anything!

[kavehayati]

PLEASE ?! WHAT THE HECK WAS WORK 😭 /pos

[apatheticsunday]

Gotham TikTok

AKA "Danny moves to Gotham and records TikToks with absolutely deranged captions. He films Get Ready with Me in Gotham videos, fit checks, and even A Day in the Life of a Ghost in Gotham! Except everybody is freaking the fuck out in the comments" prompt idea!

No, you don't understand, I'm obsessed. Like, what if Danny's idea of "safe" is just... anything that doesn't actively try to kill him? So Metropolitians, Star City, and Central City citizens are literally biting their nails and sweating bullets every time he posts, because what if he gets merc'd by the "Eight Heads in a Duffel Bag" Red Hood?? And that's one of the nicer villains in Gotham. And Danny's just like wow, this place is niiiiiice, I haven't even been murdered yet!

Maybe Jazz took a 12-year-old Danny to Gotham to escape their parents. Gotham's cheap, dirty, and doesn't ask questions: it's the best place to go to disappear because damn near half the city's population are either super villains, hostages, dead, or vigilantes. She gets a job at an understaffed hospital as a clinical psych intern. She enrolls Danny for online schooling because she's scared a public high school would be too easy for their parents to track.

Which leaves Danny alone for hours. He makes a TikTok account called "Danny Phantom" because, c'mon, he's a kid. And, like most kids, he doesn't really comprehend the idea of a digital footprint or that his account is public, accessible by literally anybody.

He's also a little shit. So, the first TikTok he uploads is of a man getting carjacked, but the caption reads: love to see people helping each other. remember it's always okay to ask for help! it's okay, I don't know how to parallel park, either :)

And you just see this guy in a mask shove a businessman away from his car, gesturing with his gun, before getting into the driver's seat. Except the car is parallel parked so the carjacker just slowly inches back and forth between a Prius and a Honda until he can wedge himself out of the parking space. And then gets stuck in stand-still traffic. The TikTok goes viral. It's talked about on the Gotham news and Gothamites are losing their shit, pointing out the exact moment you can see the carjacker start to soundlessly cuss through the car's windshield or the way the businessman is just... standing on the side of the road, watching with a deadpan look.

Danny doesn't know about it being on the news, but he sees all the comments, likes, reposts, and feels something. He wonders if this is what Ember feels every time people listened to her music. So, he keeps posting. Usually, it's short three-second videos of a hilariously unexpected situation with an even more deranged caption. But then he's accidentally caught in the reflection of a store front while recording and doesn't know, posts it like he always does; only for this TikTok to go viral, too. Because "Danny Phantom" is a child??

He doesn't notice the shift in his comments, but the public opinion quickly changes from wow, Gothamites are just like that huh lol to what the FUCK, kid, get inside!!! anytime he posts.

Except Danny never gets hurt. Even in the most dangerous situations, when you'd think this kid is a goner for sure, he's just happily yapping in the background. He's so different from Gothamites because he lacks that dead-eyed, despair-inducing aura of someone who's lived in a hellmouth their whole lives. (A couple people post that Danny kind of reminds them of Golden Boy Brucie Wayne, all air-headed and unrealistically optimistic, and suddenly there's memes of "what happens when you've never gotten shot in Gotham" or "how i act when Commish Gordie accuses me of shoplifting again" with them side-by-side.)

And then Danny's posts go viral again and again. Danny doing a fit check with a blond-haired woman with a checkered outfit, she ruffles his hair and kisses him on the cheek. A picture of him wearing an old jean jacket with a bright red lipstick smear on his cheek is trending for weeks. Spoiler, fully suited up in an all-purple vigilante attire, and him shoving gas station hotdogs in their mouths. He even has videos of him clearly in Killer Croc's lair, with comments of are you in the sewers??? DANNY??? and he responds, no, i'm in mom & dad's basement :) (Waylon Jones is actually sitting behind him in one of the videos, intently watching a TV show on an iPad.)

Everybody adores Danny - Rogues, Gothamites, even the Bats. (There's at least six videos of Nightwing teaching Danny how to do backflips, handstands, and other acrobatic moves. Even the youngest Robin has been caught on camera quietly talking with Danny, a shocking lack of violence that left half the city's population suffering from cuteness aggression for the kids.)

So, yeah, Danny belongs to Gotham.

But the internet is widely accessible and Danny made it so, so easy to find him. Jazz obviously didn't know he was posting videos of himself publicly; she was too tired after back-to-back 12 hour shifts at the hospital that she hadn't even checked social media in months. Otherwise, she would've told him to be careful, to never show his face or post his real name on the internet. Then again, Jazz would never have expected all of Gotham (and Superman himself, totally endeared by the kid after Kon and Jon showed him a couple TikToks) would beat the absolute shit out of anybody going after Danny.

Imagine GIW's surprise when they track down Amity's former residential Ghost only to find an entire city frothing at the mouth to protect their Phantom.

[bastardlybonkers]

i feel like not enough ppl are factoring in the cultural clash between laios and shuro and the many micro agressions shuro faced while being in their group. literally the name 'shuro' in itself is one

his name is toshiro 😭 lets also not forget that he has his own communication issues, in the opposite way that laios does- thats literally a factor in their argument, that his envy for laios's ability to express himself sincerely manifested as part of his distaste for him.

ig all this to say like, was their fight heart wrenching, especially when reading laios as autistic? absolutely. anybody whos ever been in laios's position knows how much it hurts to realize someone you thought was your friend doesnt actually like having you around, especially when they didnt tell you and you had no way of knowing due to not understanding their cues. but im begging yall to step back and see the nuance of this situation cause im gonna be real a lot of you are kinda just brushing over it acting like everything is toshiros fault and that hes a terrible person when in reality hes an average guy who really, really clashed with laios and it led to a very long misunderstanding due to their supremely opposite methods of communication. even laios and toshiro, after letting everything out in their fight, were able to come to an understanding and start a foundation for an actual friendship built on better communication

ok yknow what Edit: i shouldve made it even more explicit at the end of this post, i hadnt thought i would need to since i started the post with this, but i think a few too many people are missing my point so i just wanna clarify. i shouldnt have said 'really clashed' and left it at that because yeah they did, but it wasnt just their opposite methods of communication, it is also very much that toshiro was experiencing microaggressions via laios. it may have been unintentional on laios's part, but it still happened and wore him down, made it harder for him to communicate on top of both the more subtle social cues that he was raised with and his own communication difficulties. i also want to say that the fandom reaction to toshiro and the complete ignorance of this point is also racist tbh or at the very least ignorant. i understand that the anime did not cover this panel, and neither did the manga, as this was an omake, but im gonna be real with you guys. there are enough context clues within the story to clue you into this. if you didnt pick up on it thats ok, but i think this is a good lesson in picking up subtext in the stories that youre watching and/or reading. kui shouldnt have to explicitly say 'by the way laios was racist to toshiro' for this point to be understood, and at the very least, when the author portrays a character in a sympathetic light (as kui clearly does) it should make you question Why they are doing so and what makes them sympathetic, rather than youre immediate and only reaction to be 'well i hated what this guy did/said so i hate them and they suck'. idk exactly how to finish this, just. idk. question your biases and gut reactions to things you see in media and stories, and think about whether or not theres subtext that youre missing.

[tender-rosiey]

plsss would u do sukuna taking care of his pregnant wife? like noticing his robes keep disappearing, only to figure out its his wife. or more dad!kuna 🙏🏾

robes — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: me👰‍♀️ ➕ 👹heianera!sukuna

sukuna is a deeply preceptive man.

it’s something he prides himself over, and since he is observant, he quickly notices that his robes start going missing.

in the beginning, he thinks that it’s probably the increased number of bloodied robes because he has been going on a higher number of rampages the past couple of days.

so, he goes to uraume to inquire about why the delivery of his robes has been later than usual.

uraume quickly responds that they have been personally delivering the clean robes to his chambers and ensuring that they are placed where he can clearly see them.

the revelation makes sukuna annoyed because that means that someone has been stealing his robes directly from his chambers.

he is presented with two courses of actions—excluding the option of saving himself the trouble and just killing all the servants: sending uraume to spy on the whole ordeal or investigate it himself.

considering how he has been pretty bored the past couple of days, he decides on the latter. the past few rampages have given a clear warning to the rest of the villages surrounding his castle.

so, with nothing else to do, sukuna takes it upon himself to monitor the main entrance of his chambers to see whether anybody enters the room after uraume places the robes in the room.

so, he situates himself near the room but far away so that they can’t catch him.

he stays there for a good couple of hours, yet he sees no one, not even in the darkness of the night: the supposed prime time for a thief.

perhaps the thief has been made aware of sukuna’s inspection? but that would mean that the robes would still be in the chambers. so, sukuna enters his room in search of his robes, but, to his surprise, he doesn’t find them.

that immediately leads him to concluding that whoever is stealing his robes is someone who has access to the hidden door of his room.

and no one knows about that door except—

“y/n.”

you yelp and slowly turn to your husband. he is standing there, arms crossed, brows furrowed, and an everlasting frown on his face. you have been caught and are in some big trouble.

you don’t falter immediately though. you try to act normal. you smile nervously, “yes, my love? is something bothering you?”

keyword: try.

he repeats your name lowly, and you quickly crumble. you visibly deflate and lower your head as you murmur, “yes…”

he nods in satisfaction before asking the awaited question, “where are my robes?”

your hands rest on your lap, and you fidget with your fingers.

you still can’t figure out what his reaction will be. so far, he is just gathering information. he is giving you nothing to work with, so you have no other option but to comply and just keep answering him.

sighing, you answer him, “my closet.”

he quirks an eyebrow and sits in front of you. his hand is placed on your head, and he raises your head, so you’re looking him in the eyes. it’s something that you have noticed only being done to you.

you had absentmindedly asked your head servant about it, and said servant, uraume, had told you that it’s because he views you as an equal and does not take pleasure in your fear and acting inferior to him.

and in the end, sukuna only does what pleases him. if it doesn’t please him then why do it?

he hums as if in thought before egging you on, “and why are my robes in your closet? in fact—” he smirks, eyes observing your frame, “why are you currently wearing my robes?”

you pull the robes tighter around yourself, and you purse your lips. sukuna wants an answer right now, and while he is enjoying your ‘suffering’, he also wants to know what’s wrong.

if there is anything that he hates then it’s not knowing, especially if it’s something about you, his very pregnant wife.

his hand travels to your jaw, and he grips it lightly.

“so?” he says as he tilts your head to the slide slightly.

“you…have been gone for longer than usual lately, and I have been missing you,” you admit softly as you try your best to maintain eye contact, but you end up looking away.

he is still silent, so you continue laying out your reasoning, “and for some reason, the robes alleviate the pregnancy pain. I couldn’t find any logical or scientific reason, but I think—

—it’s because the robes are filled with your cursed energy, maybe acting as a kind of assurance to the baby that you are beside us even if you aren’t.”

he doesn’t grace you with any reaction nor reply for quite a while, and it makes you think that he is probably thinking about how foolish the entire scenario is.

so, you add hesitantly, “or something like that…”

after a moment, though, he sighs and simply says, “you could’ve just asked me, you foolish woman.”

you blink confused, “and you, my ‘no one takes what’s mine’ husband, would’ve allowed that?”

“you, idiot, are mine, so my belongings are yours anyway,” he states, and his hands rest on your stomach, “this is mine too, so you have to take good care of it.”

a smile takes over your face, and you nod happily, “of course, I will!”

you pause for a second, and it has sukuna confused.

you frown and you point your finger at him while reprimanding him, “and don’t call me an idiot, mister! I am your wife, and I am blessed with a good name.”

a pinch is delivered to your butt which makes you shriek. you jump away from your husband and start rubbing the spot in attempt to soothe it.

sukuna smiles wickedly before suggesting, “how about I help you with that?”

“no! keep your hands off of me, you brute!”

he chuckles, and it echoes throughout the room. it’s kind of creepy. you always said that you wanted to add more furniture to avoid that situation.

you start thinking about the new design for the room when your husband speaks up, “and regarding my absence the past few of days.”

you turn your head to him, and he continues, “I will be putting my plans on pause for a while, so you don’t have to resort to the robes for the time.”

he turns his back to you before announcing, “I am expecting you at dinner and later in my chamber. is that clear?”

you feel giddiness fill you up, and you reply enthusiastically, “yes, my king!”

“good,” he smirks.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1 @sad-darksoul @ko-fi-heart @pumpkindudeishere @suyaaachin @babyqueen17 @chaosguy352 @murakami-kotone @sukun4ryomen @yumieis @hearts4itoshi @sleepyxxhead @dunixxd @sleepycrybbylaiah @imjustaduckwholikesbread @emilyyyy-08 @spacebaby1 @arabellatreaty @viscade @washeduphasbeen @janbannan @sugurubabe

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

check out my buy me a coffee!

[moechies]

would you mayhaps mind writing more toji x bunny!hybrid reader... perchance...

pretty pleek 🥺

(ALSO I LOVE YOUR WORKS SM AHHH)

cw ❤︎ bunny is a little weird ‘n loves sniffing toji’s fat bawls ;( don’t make fun of her ! toji makin bunny jealous , throatfuckin !!!

you’re a possessive, insatiable, and messy little thing. and although he does truly love every single one of your animalistic traits, it’s definitely something anybody would find out of the ordinary. not like he minds a bit.

₊˚⊹ ❤︎

toji adores the way you pout, eyes growing bleary when he tells you he needs to leave the home for work. it’s not so much him needing to do his job, but at the mention of a ‘she’ twined into one of his sentences, and now it’s the only thing you find yourself focusing on.

he urges you not to cry, hoisting you onto his lap and pressing your hiccuping self into his warm chest before shushing you gently. but you don’t see the ill-intentioned smirk that spreads across his plum lips as he soothes you from above.

“mhm, it’s an overnight mission, s’i won’t be home till tomorrow, bun.”

“a-are you going to sleep with her ? in the same bed ?” you question meekly, and toji lets out an unassuring hum.

toji loves working you up with his words, and bringing you back down with his cock. it’s so much of a game to him, but not to you.

your poor sensitive heart clenches when he offers no sort of affirmation, leaving your little mind to wonder aimlessly. your chest huffs with both frustration and anger at his pauses, quickly attempting to pull off his chest and away from the mean, mean man.

“i-i hate you !”

but no, he doesn’t let you pull off. he holds you down tight, thighs clad against his meatier ones as his stiff cock prods against your warm cunt. “g-get.. away !” you yelp, turning away to avoid the man from seeing the falling tears that leak from your pretty eyes.

“shh, bunny. c’mere.” he chuckles, pressing your resisting chest against his despite your tried efforts, pressing gentle kisses across your face covered with streaky tears. “‘course ‘m not gonna sleep with her, dumb bunny.” you hiccup, refusing to look into him before plopping your cheek against his chest.

“liar . ‘m gonna kill her.” you whisper.

toji chuckles again, petting your hair and soft, fallen ears, pulling them up high to resemble your usual happy persona with perky ears.

“don’t be so naive, bun. ‘m yours, and yer mines. promise, hm ?”

“p-promise ?”

“i do, i promise.” he speaks, humping his bulge against your chubby cunt. you yelp, reaching out for toji’s arms for support. “c’mere. let me make it up to my bunny for bein’ s’mean.”

❤︎ ₊˚⊹

the sun’s glare peeks through the translucent curtains, waking toji from his slumber. he groans, reaching his arm over expectingly, wanting nothing more but to envelop your soft body into his; just to feel his arm fall against soft sheets instead of your skin.

the sudden throbbing ache in between his legs feels much more prominent than before, his thigh twitching at the unfamiliar feeling.

he cracks an eye open, peeking down, and…

he can’t believe his eyes.

you; your insatiable little self, with his boxers tugged barely below his sack, and your little hand pushing back on the base of his cock. your nose is nuzzled against his fat, dewy balls, taking deep inhales of his musky scent. his vision trails down your other arm, leading his sight to your hand in between your soft thighs, erratically pumping two little digits in your chubby pussy while grinding onto a soft, white pillow all at once.

“m—mister… hnnn,”

your nose twitches incessantly, nuzzling the bud impossibly deep against his manhood, little pink tongue even slipping out to get a taste.

your ears flare out to the side of your body, hairs standing, cottontail twitching because he knows you’re just so close, you’re almost there, and your little pouting lips trying their hardest to keep your mewls quiet.

and finally, you let out a content cry, filthing your tiny fingers in thick, creamy cum. your humping comes to a slow, and you finish the job by leaving a long lick of saliva against toji’s cock for one last moment of wonder.

toji can’t help but laugh, scaring the bunny life out of you. you freeze, but he stops moving. it’s just a dream, right ? there’s no way you woke him up.

and just when you’re about to scurry away, clean up your mess and slip back into the sheets as if nothing every happened, there’s a hard tug on your sensitive little ears, one that drags you back towards your boyfriend’s standing cock where you were just a few seconds ago.

did you really think he wouldn’t notice ? poor bunny.

you squeak, his cock is harshly pressed into your warm gaped, mouth, and—

“what a rude bunny. usin’ me t’get that weeping cunny off without somethin’ in return. y’owe me this, hm ?”

₊˚⊹ ❤︎

“y’r so damn messy.”

toji grumbles, fingers threading through your hair, tugging at your ears.

his thighs are covered in your sticky slobber, strings of saliva dripping down his length and falling against his bushy base.

you don’t care. a mess is easy to clean and temporary, but who knows when your owner will leave on a mission, allowing your mouth to be empty for days ?

your cheek bulges with his chub, his pre slipping against the soft flesh of your mouth and leaving a salted flavor against your tongue.

“c’mon, take it deeper.” toji urges, adjusting your little face by your hair so that his pudgy tip lays against your throat.

“bigggg stretch, bunny.” he giggles, watching your eyes widen and hands slap against his meaty thigh when he presses down your unprepared throat, stretching the resistant flesh violently. you gag a multitude of times, mouth leaking uncontrollably as if you’re lubing toji for a smoother process.

“looks like this messy bunny mouth does have some good use f’it, hm ?”

❤︎ ₊˚⊹

[mossangelll]

So hear me out….pregnant reader with Sevika’s kid. Sevika doting on reader. Bring home a weird craving reader has been having and talking to the baby telling them how excited she is to finally meet them.

I need fluff, I need pregnancy, I need it to be hers naturally.

Thank yooooooooou!

this is so cute i loved writing it! i just know sevika would be a great parent ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

sevika x pregnant reader headcanons

cw: pregnancy, slight innuendos, mentions of violence, veryyyy slight angst at the start

sevika never saw herself being a parent; not because she doesn’t like kids, it’s the complete opposite - she adores them

she felt it was selfish to want to bring a child into a fucked up world like zaun, full of hardship and uncertain futures

but then one night you tearfully turn to sevika in bed and her mind immediately goes into overdrive, are you hurt? is someone threatening you?

“sevika…i’m pregnant.”

you’re both sent into a still silence, unable to see each other but somehow feeling each other’s shock that much more

you’re worried that she’s upset or even mad at you, you know how she feels about having kids, until she’s gripping onto you with all her might, body shuddering from the force of her tears

sevika spoons you to sleep but she can’t fall asleep since her mind is racing about what this means for the future

she is overjoyed to say the least, albeit worried

from that moment on she dotes on you even more than she ever did, saying she needs to “look after my two favourite people.”

she rarely enjoyed pda but now you’re pregnant with her child, she can’t keep her hands off you - she needs to let everyone know that she’s completely smitten with you and the baby

sevika is constantly rubbing her hands on your baby bump wherever you go - just the sight of you and the baby calms her down

however she’ll only talk to the baby when you’re at home all safe and sound because this is when she admits her innermost fears

you stroke her soft hair as she whispers to the bump about how she’s scared she won’t be able to protect you both; after all, sevika works for the biggest crime lord in zaun and a child only provides more ammunition for enemies to utilise

sevika is also concerned about not being a good enough parent to the child but when you look at her building a crib from scratch, concentration furrowing her dark brows, with buckets of paint surrounding her from all the swatches you requested, you know that her worries couldn’t be further from the truth

every morning and every night, without fail, she kisses your forehead and baby bump as she rambles to you both about how excited she is for the completion of your little family

she dotes on you so much!

if you have a weird craving like pickle juice with sparkling water she’s forcing chuck to drop all his orders and make yours stat

if you’re craving some obscure dish that really shouldn’t exist sevika isn’t even going to question it

she’s in the kitchen whipping it up for you as you’re sat on the counter, humming as she prepares your meal

she does that thing where she puts the plate just in your reach but yanks it back again, laughing at how petulant you get

“what, you’re not gonna kiss the chef first?”

she gives it to you eventually, she could never make you wait for too long, and watches on with a goofy little smile and your lipstick marks all over her face as you contentedly eat the downright atrocious meal she made with love

sevika is always with you; call her overprotective or clingy she doesn’t care, she just doesn’t want to risk anybody hurting you or the baby

you basically get scary dog privileges everywhere you go

if your pregnancy hormones say the annoying store clerk that spoke to you in a condescending tone needs to die then sevika is on it right away

ok not really, she talks you down from your moments of bloodlust but she will deal with anyone that is rude to you

“you think i’m gonna let you get away with being an asshole to my dove, huh?”

lowkey shocked (and equal parts turned on) at how cranky your raging hormones make you 😭

sevika is incredibly attracted to you and your changing body even though you get insecure that she won’t like you anymore because of it

she takes her precious time every day just kissing the new stretch marks that appear and massaging your swollen ankles

you spend your date nights talking about baby names and you two even draw what you think the baby will look like

her drawing mainly consists of your features

your drawing mainly consists of her features

you two are so down bad for each other it’s sickening

silco has to force sevika to take more time off; she’s loyal and deserves to have more downtime with you as you prepare for your baby

he understands what it’s like to have a kid, how stressful it can be so he wants his dearest friend to enjoy the moment as much as possible

speaking of silco, he helps sevika host a surprise baby shower at the last drop and an insane amount of people turn up

you cry when you realise how loved and respected you are in the community

everyone is having the time of their lives playing games like blind diaper changing, who knows mum/dad the best, guess the baby, etc.

no gender reveal though she’s traditional in that regard and wants to wait until the baby’s born to find out

jinx is also very excited about the new arrival in the family

yes, she considers you and sevika to be part of her family and it’s very cute

she gets to be an auntie!

jinx spends all her free time making all sorts of toys out of softer materials because she’s considerate (also sevika warned her not to use scrap metal, or implement sharp edges, or even add teeny tiny smoke bombs - jinx scrapped all of her designs and had to start from scratch), for your baby with her signature graffiti of course

her and sevika probably work together to make some of the furniture for the baby’s room

sevika is very proud when people ask to feel bump

“yeah, this is our kid.” smug grin plastered onto her face and a strong arm wrapped around your midsection

you can’t help but roll your eyes when she does this because at this point who doesn’t know it’s your kid - she spends all day talking about it 😭

all in all sevika is honestly the best mother and wife you could ask for <3

masterlist

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 9: November 2023 - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

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

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

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

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, Jos Verstappen for once not being the bad guys.

Part 2 of November.

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

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Victoria Verstappen

Isabelle: Hey Vic! Hope you are doing well! 

Isabelle: I have a question:  Do you happen to remember the breeder Max got Sassy and Jimmy from?

Victoria: Hi!! 🐱 I do! Why? Thinking about getting one?

Isabelle: Maybe… I was thinking about surprising Max for Christmas.

Victoria: 🥹🥹🥹

Victoria: That is the cutest thing I’ve heard all day.

Victoria: He’s going to melt.

Isabelle: Please don't tell him 🥺

Victoria:  My lips are sealed!

Victoria:  Also yes, I have the breeder’s number, she’s lovely

Victoria:  She always has litters around winter!

Isabelle: perfect 🥹

Victoria: Max is going to lose his mind. I hope you're ready for him to cry about it and pretend he’s not crying. 

Isabelle: I am emotionally prepared 😂

Victoria: Speaking of surprises

Victoria: I heard you quit your job???

Isabelle: Yeah.

Isabelle:  A couple days ago. I just… couldn’t do it anymore.

Isabelle:  I was miserable. They didn’t take me seriously. 

Victoria: I had no idea, Belle.

Victoria: I’m proud of you.

Isabelle:  Thank you.  I’m kind of… floating now. Max calls it my “trophy wife sabbatical”.  

Victoria: Well, if anybody deserves a Trophy Wife Sabbatical, it’s you 😂 And I bet my brother is thriving in your trophy wife era, don’t let him lie. 

Isabelle:  I love him so much it’s disgusting.

Victoria: You should

Victoria:  He’s a better version of himself with you (Still dramatic, but better)

Isabelle:  He’s been so patient

Isabelle:  Like he never doubts I’ll figure it out

Isabelle:  Even when I do

Victoria:  You’ll figure it out, Belle. I don’t doubt that at all. 

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles and Lorenzo) 

Isabelle: Hey

Isabelle: Just letting you know I’m coming to Abu Dhabi. 

Isabelle: Got my flight booked and hotel sorted. 

Charles: nice!

Charles: see you there

Arthur: cool

Lorenzo: Safe flight!

***

The hum of the engines was steady, the cabin was dim, and Max was… well, Max.

Lando shifted restlessly in his seat across the aisle, flipping a bottle cap between his fingers., trying not to go completely insane with boredom.

Max, for his part, sat slouched across from him, hoodie pulled low over his face, legs stretched out like he owned the plane. Which he technically did.

They had been flying forever.

Vegas was a chaotic blur.

 Abu Dhabi felt years away.

“Still alive?” Lando asked.

Max made a noncommittal grunt under his hoodie.

The jet bumped onto the runway in Nice for refueling, smooth as ever, and Max finally sat up, stretching.

"We're not getting off, are we?" Lando asked, yawning.

"Nope," Max said, pocketing his phone. "Just refueling."

Lando nodded, already thinking about maybe finding a Red Bull in the mini-fridge when the jet rolled to a stop.

Then the cabin door clicked.

And she stepped in.

Isabelle.

Dressed casually—jeans, sneakers, a soft pink sweater that somehow looked expensive without trying.

 Her hair was loose. She carried a small overnight bag in one hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear with the other.

Lando’s brain broke.

"You’re joking," he blurted, sitting bolt upright.

Isabelle smiled, calm and bright. "Hi, Lando."

Max didn't even react. He stood up casually, took her bag, and tucked it into the overhead like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re—what—you’re coming to Abu Dhabi?” Lando stammered.

Isabelle raised an eyebrow, amused. “I’m watching my brother race. Isn’t that what family does?”

Lando opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

 Because sure, technically that was a logical answer, except for the very large fact that she was coming to watch her brother race while secretly dating his biggest rival.

And Charles didn’t know.

Max dropped into the seat next to Isabelle like nothing was wrong, slinging his arm along the back of her seat, brushing her shoulder without thinking.

Lando stared.

This—

 This was the first time he had really seen them.

 Max and Isabelle.

 Max and Isabelle.

Now that he knew, it was obvious.

The way Max’s entire body shifted when she was near — looser, softer, grounded.

 The way Isabelle leaned subtly toward him without realizing it — like orbiting Max was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t loud.

 It wasn’t flashy.

 It wasn’t the kind of relationship you noticed if you weren’t looking closely.

But now Lando could see it everywhere.

Max’s hand brushed her knuckles lightly, and Isabelle tilted her head toward him in that soft, familiar way, smiling just for him.

Lando felt like he’d been let in on the world’s most terrifying and beautiful secret.

He groaned loudly, dropping his head back against the seat.

"Charles is going to kill me when he finds out I knew," he said to no one in particular.

Max smirked, absolutely unbothered. "We’ll all be dead eventually. Might as well enjoy the flight."

Isabelle covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Lando glared at them both. "You’re so chill about this!"

Isabelle leaned back in her seat, folding her arms. "Because there’s nothing to be not chill about."

"You say that now," Lando muttered. "Wait until your brother explodes."

Isabelle shrugged, a little more steel underneath her calm. "He’ll get over it."

Max smiled lazily beside her. "He’ll have to."

And for a moment, watching them — Isabelle with her quiet resolve, Max with his immovable certainty — Lando realized:

Maybe they weren’t reckless.

 Maybe they weren’t hiding out of fear.

 Maybe they were just... keeping something for themselves.

Private. Fierce. Unshakable.

Lando sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

 "If I end up collateral damage in your little love story," he said darkly, "I'm haunting you both."

Max just chuckled, settling back with Isabelle tucked under his arm like it was second nature.

"Deal," Max said.  "And thanks for flying Air Max."

Lando groaned into his hands. "I'm going to have an ulcer before we even land."

Max laughed.

Isabelle just smiled and leaned into Max's side without thinking, his hand slipping instinctively to her knee.

And Lando, sitting across from them, realized grimly:

He was not surviving this weekend.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

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

Lando: she’s on the plane

Lando: she’s. on. the. plane.

Oscar: who

Daniel: oh god

Daniel: which “she” are we talking about

Daniel: please not the vegas bartender again

Lando: NO

Lando: Isabelle

Oscar: WHAT

Daniel: OH MY GOD

Oscar: LIKE

Oscar: THE Isabelle

Oscar: Charles’ sister Isabelle

Oscar: Max’s secret girlfriend Isabelle

Oscar: The one we’re all pretending not to know about Isabelle???

Lando: YES

Lando: she just got on the jet in NICE

Lando: she’s flying with us to ABU DHABI

Lando: I AM GOING TO DIE

Daniel: did max know she was coming??

Lando: he helped her with her bag and everything

Lando: like it was a normal day

Lando: like he didn’t just invite a LECLERC onto his PRIVATE JET

Lando: while secretly DATING HER

Oscar: we are all going to die

Daniel: please tell me you said something

Lando: she told me she’s just “watching her brother race”

Lando: like that’s not the most emotionally loaded thing anyone has ever said on a private jet

Oscar: I’m sweating

Oscar: Are you sweating?

Oscar: I feel like we should all be sweating

Daniel: what’s the plan??

Daniel: are we pretending we don’t know??

Daniel: are we spies now???

Lando: there is no plan

Lando: there’s only vibes

Lando: and the vibes are “Charles is going to murder us in cold blood”

Oscar: Max seems chill about it?

Lando: He’s so chill it’s terrifying

Lando: She sat down next to him and he just put his arm around her

Lando: Like she’s not the nuclear secret of the entire paddock

Daniel: He’s going to soft launch her in the paddock isn’t he

Daniel: you’re going to be THERE when it happens

Daniel: you’re IN the launch window

Lando: I didn’t sign up for this

Lando: I signed up for sim races and chaos memes

Lando: Not for hiding the Verstappen-Leclerc love story from a ticking Charles-shaped time bomb

Oscar: They’re so subtle though

Oscar: Like you wouldn’t even notice unless you KNOW

Daniel: And now you know

Daniel: And now you’re cursed

Lando: i literally said if i become collateral damage i’m haunting them both

Oscar: haunting Max would be so easy

Oscar: he already thinks every weird noise in his apartment is one of the cats

Daniel: tell Isabelle i want to be invited to the wedding if we survive this

Lando: i hate you both

Lando: they just shared a look across the cabin

Lando: i think they’re telepathic

Oscar: you’re already too deep

Oscar: we can’t help you now

Daniel: thoughts and prayers, mate

Daniel: and maybe wear orange so Charles hesitates when he comes for you

Lando: i’m gonna need more than orange

Lando: i’m gonna need a will

***

Oscar liked to think of himself as a calm guy.

Level-headed.

Mature.

 Good under pressure.

But apparently, all that went out the window the second he spotted Isabelle Leclerc wandering through the paddock.

Because he knew.

He knew.

And she knew that he knew.

And he knew that she knew that he knew.

And now every single step he took felt like it was being broadcast on national television.

Oscar straightened his posture unnecessarily, like standing up straighter would make him less suspicious.

Isabelle was across the walkway, wearing a sundress, her paddock pass and a small, polite smile for every mechanic and engineer who said hello.

Completely casual.

 Completely effortless.

Completely dating Max Verstappen and somehow nobody else knew.

Oscar stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to look casual.

 He would not be the one to blow their cover.

 He would not be the guy who accidentally made eye contact and triggered a Red Bull-Charles Leclerc paddock war.

He focused on walking normally.

 Breathing normally.

 Existing normally.

It was fine.

 Everything was fine.

He passed within a few meters of her, gave a small, casual nod.

 The kind of nod that said "hey, I know you" without saying "hey, I know your secret relationship with Max Verstappen."

Isabelle caught his eye for a second — and her mouth twitched into the smallest, most knowing smile.

Oscar almost tripped over his own feet.

He coughed, pretended to check his watch even though he wasn’t wearing one, and kept moving like nothing happened.

Be normal, he told himself.

 You’re a Formula 1 driver.

 You drive at 300 kph for a living.

 You can survive seeing Max’s secret girlfriend without spontaneously combusting.

Behind him, he swore he heard a soft laugh — hers, light and amused — and he decided he was never speaking of this again.

Not until it was safe.

Not until he was 5,000 miles away and absolutely certain Charles wouldn’t shank him with a champagne bottle.

Oscar made a sharp left turn toward the McLaren hospitality, muttering under his breath:

"Stay in your lane, Piastri. Stay alive."

***

The sun was sinking low, throwing long shadows across the paddock. Carlos leaned back against a concrete wall near the Ferrari motorhome, helmet balanced beside him, sipping slowly from a bottle of water as Charles scrolled aimlessly through his phone.

It was rare to get these moments—quiet, easy, just them.

But something had been itching at the back of Carlos’ mind lately.

 A conversation with Lando.

 Observations that were getting harder to ignore.

Something had been gnawing at Carlos for weeks now.

So Carlos spoke.

“Your sister’s been doing some pretty cool work lately,” he said casually.

Charles didn’t look up. “Yeah?”

“Architectural stuff. Monaco interiors. Heard she’s doing well.”

Charles gave a vague shrug. “I guess.”

Carlos waited for more. It didn’t come.

“She designed Max’s penthouse, right?” he pushed.

Charles made a noncommittal noise. “She helped with it or something. Picked out the furniture.”

Carlos blinked. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—she didn’t just decorate. She designed it. Layouts. Custom interiors. Lighting plans. All of it.”

Charles frowned like he genuinely didn’t understand. “Okay…? So?”

Carlos stared at him. “So… that’s a big deal, mate.”

Charles tilted his head. “She’s always been good at decorating.”

Carlos was quiet for a second too long.

Decorating.

“Dios mio,” he muttered, rubbing a hand across his jaw. “You really don’t get it.”

��Get what?” Charles asked, clearly confused now. “She’s got a job, she likes it, I’m happy for her. What’s your point?”

“My point,” Carlos said, carefully measured, “is that you’re acting like she spent an afternoon picking paint colors. She designed that place. From scratch. Layouts. Architecture. Interior. Everything.”

Charles looked nonplussed. “She’s good at that stuff. ”

Carlos stared at him for a second.

 Waiting for the punchline.

 It didn’t come.

“You’re kidding,” Carlos said flatly.

Charles glanced over, frowning. “What?”

Carlos shook his head slowly. “That’s your sister, mate. Show a little respect. You talk about Isabelle like she’s some bored little sister playing pretend. Like her work isn’t real.”

Charles blinked. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s exactly what you said,” Carlos snapped. “You talk about what she does like it’s picking curtains. Like she’s not out there building a career people actually respect. You know how many people would kill to design a place like Max’s penthouse?”

Charles looked blank. “It’s just a flat.”

Carlos let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “No. It’s not. It’s a statement. A place Max trusted someone to shape. And your sister did that.”

Charles shrugged, still defensive. “Okay, well, good for her.”

Carlos gave him a look. “Good for her?”

“Yeah, I mean—I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Carlos exhaled, eyes narrowing slightly. “I want you to realize that she’s more than ‘my sister who’s good at decorating.’ I want you to see her. Because everyone else seems to.”

***

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Carlos Sainz Jr. 

Carlos:  What the hell.

Lando: oh no

Lando: what did I do. 

Carlos:  I talked to Charles. 

Carlos:  Charles talks about his sister like she’s some intern playing with paint samples

Carlos:   She’s out here designing penthouses and he’s like “yeah she’s good at decorating”

Lando: oh my god 💀

Carlos: I wanted to shake him

Carlos:   how do you not SEE your own sister

Carlos:   She’s killing it

Carlos:   She’s literally a better architect than half the guys building million dollar places in Monaco.

Lando: yeah

Lando: max definitely sees it lol

Carlos:  Yeah, well, at least Max appreciates good work

Lando: not just her work, mate 😬

Carlos:  What does that mean?

Lando: uh

Lando: nvm

Lando: forget i said anything

Carlos:  LANDO.

Lando: max and isabelle are a thing okay!!!

 Lando: they’ve been a thing for months!!

Carlos:  Are you saying

Carlos:  Max Verstappen

Carlos:  Is dating Isabelle Leclerc?!

Lando: 😬😬😬😬😬

Carlos:  dios mio

Carlos: does CHARLES know

Lando: oh absolutely not

Lando: zero clue

Lando: brain empty

Lando: we’re all going to die when he finds out

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo and Carlos Sainz Jr.)

Carlos: What is this?

Oscar: Oh no

Carlos: Lando, why am I here?

Carlos: Why do you keep dragging me deeper into this

Daniel: WELCOME CARLOS!!

Daniel: You’ve joined an elite group of people who are  😬 aware 😬

Oscar: This is a safe space for those who are emotionally compromised by Max dating Isabelle

Carlos: Are you people insane?

Lando: yes

Carlos: I just found out like 7 minutes ago. 

Carlos:  I’m still processing the fact that Max is dating Charles’ SISTER

Carlos:  and that apparently EVERYONE BUT CHARLES KNOWS

Oscar: that’s the part that really gets you huh

Carlos: YES, OSCAR

Carlos:  how has CHARLES not noticed his own sister is dating his rival

Daniel: Love is the greatest camouflage

Lando: bro what

Daniel: idk it sounded poetic

Carlos: I can’t believe you all kept this to yourselves

Oscar: I found out in the cheese aisle of a supermarket. He knew her jam preferences. And then he smiled at her.  like softly

Lando: Max in love is terrifying

Lando: he’s… emotionally functional

Daniel:  I personally love this era for him

Daniel:  boyfriend max is my favorite max

Daniel: max 2.0: will fight you and then bring you tea

Carlos: I can’t be part of this

Carlos: i’m not stable enough

Carlos: i just yelled at charles for not respecting her work and NOW I KNOW SHE’S DESIGNING MAX’S APARTMENT BECAUSE THEY’RE TOGETHER

Carlos: I AM HIS TEAMMATE.

Oscar: oh no

Lando: oh my god

Daniel: this is my favorite plot twist

Carlos: I’m going to lie down in the garage and never get up

Lando: welcome to the group

Lando:  you’ll get used to the emotional whiplash

Oscar: We’re all just waiting for the day Charles finds out  and the world ends

Daniel: we should get matching t-shirts

Daniel:  i survived the verstappen-leclerc revelation and all i got was anxiety

***

The paddock was a flurry of noise—engine whines, media chatter— and Isabelle Leclerc was sipping iced water and trying not to sweat through her linen dress. One of Max’s linen shirts—stolen and knotted over her waist—was shielding her from the worst of the heat, and her sunglasses were perched high in her hair. 

She smiled politely when people passed, waved when engineers greeted her, and genuinely lit up when Gianpiero Lambiase came to say hello.

“Hey,” GP said, clearly mid-break between meetings. “I heard you have opinions.”

Isabelle tilted her head. “About?”

“Backsplash tiles,” he said, completely serious. “Kitchen remodel. My wife thinks I’m hopeless.”

Isabelle laughed, genuinely delighted. “I do have opinions. And Pinterest boards, if you’re interested.”

GP looked genuinely relieved. “Bless you. She keeps saying she wants something that feels 'European farmhouse meets modern desert' and I have no idea what that means.”

“It means she wants matte finish tiles, not glossy,” Isabelle said immediately. “And don’t pick anything with faux distressing. It always looks cheap.”

GP raised both eyebrows, intrigued. “Okay. I’ll tell her I consulted an expert.”

They chatted for a few more minutes—about grout colors, countertop edges, the horrors of open shelving—before GP was called away to a strategy meeting.

Isabelle turned back to her water and tried to will the heat away.

And then—

“Can I talk to you?”

She looked up.

Charles. Sunglasses on, jaw tight, expression unreadable.

“Sure,” she said cautiously, standing. “Everything okay?”

He didn’t answer. Just jerked his chin in the direction of the quieter walkway near the back of the paddock. She followed, unease creeping up her spine.

When they reached the shaded area, Charles turned on her sharply.

“Seriously, Isabelle?”

She blinked. “I—what?”

“GP?” he snapped.

Her eyebrows flew up. “What about him?”

“You’re flirting with Max’s engineer now?”

Isabelle just… stared.

“Are you serious right now?” she asked.

Charles crossed his arms. “He’s married, Isa.”

“Oh my god,” she said, incredulous. “You think I’m flirting with him?”

Charles didn’t respond, which was answer enough.

Isabelle took a step back. “You think I’m—what, exactly? A homewrecker? Some desperate little paddock groupie trying to sleep her way around Red Bull?”

“I didn’t say that,” he bit out, but his tone said otherwise.

“You didn’t have to!” she snapped. “You said it with your face. And your judgmental little ‘big brother’ voice.”

Charles looked uncomfortable for the first time, but didn’t back down. “It’s not about judging you. It’s about how it looks.”

“Oh, how it looks?” Isabelle laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You’re really going to lecture me on appearances? You—whose own dating history has been very well documented—are suddenly the morality police?”

“That’s different,” he muttered.

“No, it’s not.” She stepped in close, her voice lower now. “I wasn’t flirting. GP and I were talking about backsplash tiles. For his kitchen remodel. With his wife. Because, surprise, I have a degree and actual taste and people ask for my opinion.”

Charles blinked.

“I cannot believe you think so little of me,” she said, voice shaking. “Do you really think I’d put myself in that position? That I’d disrespect someone’s marriage like that?”

His jaw clenched, guilt flickering behind his eyes. “I just—saw you. Laughing. And I assumed—”

“Well maybe stop assuming, Charles.” Her voice broke, and she quickly looked away. “You assume the worst. You assume I’m… what? Naive? Reckless? Looking for attention? You never give me the benefit of the doubt.”

Charles swallowed. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“By calling me a homewrecker?”

He winced.

Isabelle stepped back, the chill in the air suddenly sharper. “I don’t need your protection, Charles. I need your respect.”

They stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of her words settling between them like dust.

“I came to support you,” she said softly. “ And now I wish I’d stayed home.”

“And for the record,” Isabelle said, stepping past him, “if I was flirting with someone, I wouldn’t be flirting with a guy, who is holding a ‘World’s Best Dad’ travel mug and has a wedding band on his finger.”

***

The door clicked softly behind him as Max stepped into the suite, pulling his cap off and running a hand through his hair.

It had been a long, sticky day at the track — race prep, debriefs, heat clinging to everything — and all he wanted was to see her.

"Belle?" he called gently.

No answer.

He frowned, dropping his keys and phone onto the entry table, kicking off his shoes. The suite was mostly dark, save for the dim bedside lamp glowing through the half-closed bedroom door.

Max pushed it open carefully.

And there she was.

Isabelle sat curled up on the edge of the bed, still wearing her soft linen dress, her head bowed low.

 Her shoulders were shaking.

Max’s heart dropped.

"Belle," he said immediately, voice low and sharp with concern, crossing the room in three quick strides. "Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?"

She shook her head, wiping at her face furiously with the sleeve of his shirt, like she was trying to erase the evidence.

 It didn’t work.

 Her cheeks were flushed, eyes red-rimmed, mouth trembling in that way that always gutted him.

Max sat down beside her, close but not crowding her, careful.

 He knew her well enough to know she needed a second before he touched her.

Isabelle dragged in a shaky breath. "It’s stupid."

"Nothing that makes you cry is stupid," Max said firmly.

She let out a broken laugh. "Tell that to your future brother-in-law."

Max’s jaw clenched instantly. "Charles?"

Isabelle nodded miserably.

Max didn’t even try to temper the fury that flared in his chest.

"What did he say?" His voice was low, dangerous.

She shook her head again, sniffling. "He—he saw me talking to GP and he thought I was flirting with him."

Max blinked.

And then, against every better instinct, he let out a short, incredulous laugh.

Because seriously?

"Gianpiero Lambiase? My Race Engineer?!" Max said, completely baffled. "He thought you were flirting with GP?"

Isabelle let out a choked noise — somewhere between a sob and a laugh — and Max immediately reached out, pulling her carefully into his chest.

She came willingly, curling into him like she always did, her fists bunching into his shirt.

Max rested his chin on top of her head, his arms wrapped tight around her.

"You were talking about tile grout and kitchen backsplash colors," he muttered into her hair, still half-laughing, half-furious, because GP had told him all about that. And how Isabelle had apparently solved the tile dilemma in the Lambiase Household. "And Charles thought you were seducing a man who literally carries a ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug everywhere?"

Isabelle gave a miserable little laugh through her tears, burying her face in her hands. "I feel horrible. Like I besmirched GP’s honor."

Max full-on laughed this time, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders and tugging her into his chest.

"Belle," he said, shaking his head against her hair, "you didn’t besmirch anything. You didn’t do anything wrong."

She gave a tiny groan of despair. "His poor wife. I owe her an apology email. And a free kitchen consultation."

Max kissed the top of her head. "His wife’s will probably be crying laughing when she hears this story. She knows what she married — a man who brings spreadsheet printouts to pick out a dishwasher."

That finally coaxed a watery chuckle from her.

"Charles said it looked bad," Isabelle whispered miserably. "Like I was being careless."

Max closed his eyes for a second, breathing through the anger pulsing hot under his skin.

Careless.

 Isabelle — who second-guessed every step she took, every word she said.

 Isabelle — who bent over backwards to never make anyone uncomfortable.

 Isabelle — who had spent years shrinking herself so no one could accuse her of taking up too much space.

Careless.

 It made him want to throw something.

"You," Max said, pulling back just enough to look her in the eye, "are the least careless person I have ever met."

She gave him a watery little smile.

"And for the record," Max added, thumb brushing under her damp cheekbone, "if you were actually trying to flirt with someone, it wouldn’t be a married engineer who spends his lunch break arguing about countertop materials and backsplash tiles."

Isabelle laughed properly then, the sound soft and real against his chest.

"There’s my girl," Max murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.

He rocked them gently for a second, grounding her, feeling the last of the tension bleed out of her body.

"You know what?" he said after a beat, voice lighter. "Next time Charles wants to accuse you of something, make it worth it."

She sniffed, laughing again. "Like what?"

Max shrugged, grinning. "Next time? Flirt with me in the garage. Right in front of him. Really traumatize him."

Isabelle snorted against his chest. "You’re evil."

"Only for you," Max said, kissing the side of her head again. "And besides, you’re much better at flirting than you think."

She lifted her head slightly, giving him a skeptical look.

Max smirked, leaning in until their noses brushed. "You got me, didn’t you?"

And Isabelle, finally smiling for real, kissed him — slow, lingering — like she was remembering exactly how.

Max kissed her back just as fiercely, every slow sweep of his mouth saying what he couldn’t put into words:

I see you. I trust you. I love you.

And he swore, next time anyone made her cry — even Charles — they’d have to go through him first.

And Max Verstappen didn’t lose.

****

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Remind me again why I came to this race

Emilie: oh no. What happened? Do i need bail money?

Isabelle: I had a fight with Charles. He thought I was flirting with GP. Because we were talking about backsplash tiles for his KITCHEN with his WIFE. 

Emilie: I’m going to set something on fire

Isabelle: Please don’t. Max already looks like he wants to fight him.

Emilie: Good. 

Emilie: honestly give me 20 minutes and a sharp object

Isabelle: Em

Emilie: No because it’s insane

Emilie:  He sees you laughing once and thinks you’re a scandal

Emilie:  But when Arthur was publicly dating 13 supermodels a year it’s “boys will be boys”. 

Isabelle: I know.  It’s just exhausting

Emilie: He’s exhausting.  You’re a ray of sunshine. He’s lucky to breathe the same air as you.

Isabelle: You’re very dramatic

Emilie: And you love me for it

Isabelle: I do

Isabelle: Max was perfect about it

Emilie: Of course he was. He worships the ground you walk on

Emilie: Stay strong, stay hydrated and if Charles says anything else dumb,  just smile and picture me flipping him off from 5000 miles away

Isabelle: That actually helps

Emilie: Good. Love you. 

Isabelle: love you too. 

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase.

Max: You homewrecker

GP: What???

Max: Charles thinks you’re trying to steal my girlfriend 😂

GP: WHAT

GP:  MAX WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

Max: He thought Belle was flirting with you in the paddock

GP: WE WERE TALKING ABOUT BACKSPLASH TILES

GP:  AND GROUT COLORS

Max: I know

Max: Belle told me

Max: I’m still laughing

Max: apparently "matte finish" is code for seduction now

GP: MAX

GP:  SHE CRITIQUED MY TILE SAMPLE CHOICES

GP:  I TOOK NOTES

GP:  I SAID THE WORD “NEUTRAL GROUT”

Max: Dangerous game you’re playing, mate

Max:  Luring innocent women with your opinions on subway tile. 

GP: I’m MARRIED

GP: HAPPILY

GP: FOR FIFTEEN YEARS

GP: I WAS ASKING FOR DESIGN HELP BECAUSE MY WIFE SAID I HAVE “DAD BRAIN” AND NO TASTE

Max: Well now you’ve been accused of seducing my girlfriend with your “dad brain”

Max: big scandal, very dramatic

GP: I just wanted help choosing tile

Max: It gets better

Max:  Belle is mortified

Max: She keeps saying she “besmirched your honour” and brought shame upon your grout consultation

GP: ...oh my god

GP: please tell her she did no such thing

GP: she saved me

GP: her recommendation singlehandedly ended a three-week argument with my wife

Max: She will be delighted to hear that

Max: She was preparing to write a formal apology email. And offer to design your whole kitchen free of charge. 

GP: Tell her I am in awe

GP: and also a little afraid

GP:  She is frighteningly good at backsplash logic

Max: She is. 

Max: That’s one of the many, many reasons why I love her.

GP: Next time can we please avoid dragging me into romantic drama over interior finishes

Max: No promises

Max:  You’re too charming when you talk grout

**

Text Messages: Gianpiero Lambiase & Eloisa Lambiase

GP: You are not going to believe what happened today

Eloisa:  Did Max accidentally make another engineer cry?

GP: No, worse

GP: I have been accused of seducing Max’s girlfriend

Eloisa: I— what

GP: CHARLES LECLERC

GP: thought i was FLIRTING

GP: with HIS SISTER

GP: BECAUSE I ASKED FOR BACKSPLASH TILE ADVICE

Eloisa: I’M SORRY WHAT

Eloisa:  YOU SEDUCED ISABELLE LECLERC???

GP: I DIDN’T SEDUCE ANYONE

GP:  I was just asking for backsplash advice!

Eloisa: YOU GOT ACCUSED OF FLIRTING DURING A BACKSPLASH CHAT???

GP: It was in the paddock

GP:  Charles saw us talking

GP: ​​ Apparently Isabelle laughed at something I said

GP:  Now she’s a homewrecker and I tried to seduce her. 

Eloisa: OH MY GOD I’M CRYING

GP: Max thinks it’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened

GP:  He called me "dangerous" and said I was “seducing her by talking about matte finish tiles”

GP:  I want to resign

Eloisa: NO

Eloisa:  YOU’RE FAMOUS NOW

Eloisa: YOU’RE THE F1 PADDOCK’S MOST DESIRED MAN

GP: Please stop

GP: I was holding my “World’s Best Dad” mug 

GP:  She was giving professional recommendations

Eloisa: You WERE

Eloisa:  and apparently it was HOT

GP: I’m blocking you

Eloisa: No you’re not

Eloisa: You’re my husband, you sexy kitchen-reno Casanova

GP: Max said Isabelle feels terrible and thinks she “besmirched my honour”

Eloisa: please tell her she SAVED us

Eloisa: your choices were horrifying before she stepped in

Eloisa: She’s invited to all future home improvement debates

Eloisa: I trust her judgement more than yours

GP: Apparently she offered to redesign our entire kitchen as an apology. 

Eloisa: DO NOT LET HER TAKE THAT BACK

Eloisa: TAKE THE FREE DESIGN WORK

Eloisa: SHE HAS TASTE AND I AM TIRED OF ARGUING ABOUT SUBWAY TILE

GP: I feel like I’ve lost control of my life

Eloisa: You did the moment you started saying “grout lines” like it was sexy

GP: …you used to find that sexy

Eloisa: I still do

Eloisa:  Now let the nice woman redesign our kitchen and stop making Max cry with your effortless charm

Eloisa:  We’ll have STUNNING countertops. 

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Jos Verstappen

Max: Can you do me a favor tomorrow?

Jos: Depends what it is. 

Max: Keep an eye on Belle in the paddock for me

Max:  I’ll be busy with Race prep and I don't want her stuck alone with the circus. 

Jos: Something happen?

Max: Charles was an idiot. Made her cry.  Thought she was flirting with GP.

Jos: ...what?

Max: They were talking about backsplash tiles.  Tiles, dad

Max:  And Charles thought she was seducing him

Max: GP has a wife and a mug that says "world’s best dad". 

Max: Belle is mortified and doesn’t want to make a scene but I’d feel better if someone was around. 

Jos: Charles is lucky she’s your girlfriend and not mine or i’d have knocked him into next week. 

Max: Thanks, dad. 

Max: So, you’ll be around?

Jos: Yeah. 

Jos: I like her

Max: you do?

Jos: Yes. 

Jos:  She’s calm

Jos:  Doesn’t care about the attention. 

Jos:  Treats you like a person, not a trophy.

Jos:  And she’s polite to everyone. 

Jos:  You need that, especially with this life

Jos: and she reminds me of your mother. 

Jos:  The good parts. 

Max: Thanks. 

Jos: Don’t thank me

Jos:  If her brother opens his mouth again, I won’t be as diplomatic as you

Max: Copy that

Jos: Go to sleep. You have a race tomorrow.  

***

The sun was barely high enough to cast proper shadows across the paddock yet, but already the place was humming — engines firing up in garages, cameras being unpacked, people moving with that sharp, coiled energy that only came on race days.

Isabelle kept her head down as she crossed toward the Ferrari motorhome, clutching her coffee cup like a lifeline.

She had barely slept.

It wasn’t Charles’ words from yesterday that lingered — it was the old, familiar sting they brought back.

 The feeling of being out of place.

 Not enough.

 Too much.

She was rounding a corner when a voice cut across her path.

"Belle."

She froze.

Turned slowly.

Jos Verstappen stood there.

Arms crossed.

Expression like granite.

For a wild second, Isabelle panicked.

Had she done something wrong?

Was this about... something?

Everything?

Jos jerked his chin toward the side of the hospitality tent.

"Come."

Not a request.

Heart thudding, she followed him.

They walked in silence along the quieter edge of the paddock, boots scuffing against the concrete, the buzz of early morning preparations filling the air around them.

Finally, Jos stopped near a low concrete wall, leaned one elbow on it, and looked at her.

Not soft.

Not kind.

Just... assessing.

"You’re not weak," he said, voice blunt.

Isabelle blinked. "I—thank you?"

Jos grunted. "Don’t let them treat you like you are."

Isabelle opened her mouth, but he held up a hand to cut her off.

"Doesn’t matter what your brother says. Doesn’t matter what anyone sees. You know who you are. You know who you stand next to."

She swallowed hard.

Jos squinted at her, like checking if she understood.

"You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone," he said. "Not even family."

He straightened then, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve like the conversation wasn’t weighing the air between them.

"And if anyone gives you trouble today," Jos added, voice low and deliberate, "tell them they can answer to me."

Isabelle stared at him.

Jos Verstappen — who scared half the paddock with a look — had just offered to fight her battles.

Or at least stand behind her, silent and immovable, like a wall no one could knock down.

Her throat tightened unexpectedly.

Jos shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the lingering emotions.

"You’re good for him," he said roughly. "Better than he deserves, maybe."

Isabelle pressed her lips together hard.

Jos glanced away toward the garages, then back at her.

"Head up," he said. "Eyes forward. You’re a Verstappen now."

And with a short nod — like it was settled, permanent, not up for discussion — he turned and walked off, leaving her standing there, stunned, the weight of his words hitting harder than any podium speech or paddock rumor ever could.

A Verstappen.

She let out a shaky breath, squaring her shoulders.

Head up. Eyes forward.

She could do that.

***

Post Race Press Conference -Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2023

Moderator: Congratulations, gentlemen. Max, let’s start with you — your 19th win of the season, an incredible dominant performance. How does it feel wrapping up the year on such a high?

Max Verstappen: It feels good. The team did an amazing job, as always. Car was strong all weekend. I’m happy to end the season this way.

Moderator: Charles, a strong second place today. How would you summarize your season?

Charles: (smiling, relaxed) It’s been a challenging year, but I think we made good progress toward the end. P2 today was the maximum. Happy to finish like this, and looking forward to building next season.

Moderator: George, third place for you today — and second for Mercedes in the Constructors'. Happy with that result?

George: (nods) Yeah, definitely. We knew coming into this weekend it would be tight, so I’m proud of the whole team. Good momentum heading into the winter break.

Moderator: For all three — with it being the last race of the season, a lot of families and friends are here this weekend. How much does it mean to have that kind of support?

Charles: (nodding) It’s always special. Seeing familiar faces after the race, sharing the moment — it makes all the difference.

George: (agreeing quickly) Yeah, it’s important. The season’s so long — having people show up and stick by you is massive.

Max: (voice sharp, no smile) It’s nice. Really nice when the people you care about show up. And I think that is something we need appreciate more and shouldn’t take for granted. It makes you realize who's paying attention — and who’s not.

(Charles stiffens slightly, casting a sidelong glance at Max, visibly confused. George starts tapping his fingers quietly against his knee like he’s trying to physically distract himself.)

Moderator: Moving on—Charles, you mentioned building for next season. Where do you think Ferrari needs to improve to challenge Red Bull more consistently?

Charles: I think we’ve made steps forward with race pace. But qualifying is still critical. We have to start stronger next year.

(Max’s mouth twitches — not quite a smile.)

Moderator: George, same question for you regarding Mercedes?

George: (relieved to be asked something normal) Yeah, similar. We’re closing the gap, but there’s still work to do. Everyone’s going to push hard over the winter.

Moderator: Charles, what was the most challenging part of your race today?

Charles: Uh, tire management, probably. We tried a different strategy and it wasn’t perfect. But we’ll learn from it and come back stronger next year.

Max: (flatly, without looking at him) Learning is important. Assuming you recognize the problem.

(George visibly bites his cheek to keep from reacting.)

Moderator: (to George, desperate for a less icy subject) George, what does the off-season look like for you?

George: (relieved) Um—sleep. Lots of sleep. Definitely time with family and friends. Just recharge and come back ready.

Moderator: And Charles?

Charles: (smiling automatically) Spending time with family and friends. Relaxing. Recharging.

Max: (calm, but brutal) Spending time with people who actually care about you. (pause) Quality over quantity.

(Dead silence in the room.)

(George stares at the floor like it might swallow him.)

(Charles looks genuinely confused.)

Moderator: (quickly) Alright, thank you, gentlemen. That’s all for today.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/f1oversteer:  Why was Max looking at charles like he wanted to fistfight him during the press conference???

@/paddocktea:  not to be dramatic but Max verstappen’s post-race energy was "say one more word and i'll launch you into the sun" and it was entirely directed at charles leclerc. what is going ON

@/racingincircles: ok but the way Max said "the people who actually show up" while STARING at charles... 😭😭😭 what did he mean by that

@/gp2engine: did charles and Max have a secret fistfight behind the garages or something why is the vibe so violent

@/monaco_mafia: george sitting in the middle of Max and charles looking like a victorian child watching his parents argue at dinner

@/f1clownery: i know charles is confused but the rest of us are confused too king WHO UPSET MAX

@/wheelsextension:  i’m sorry but charles leclerc’s energy today was so "what did i do" and Max’s was "you know exactly what you did"... except i don't think he does and neither do we… i need answers

@pitlanepettiness:  sources (vibes) are saying something WILD is going down behind the scenes and i for one am ready for the netflix edit

@fastlanefreaks:  you could feel the beef through the screen. i am eating it up but also terrified.

@motorsportmess: Max smiling tightly while charles is visibly sweating and george is trying to disappear into the floorboards... academy award winning drama

@/griddyforgp: Max throwing shade like it's personal and charles sitting there looking like he just got accused of murder

@/ferrarifangirl: charles: 😐 Max: 🙂🔪 george: 👀👟💨

@/f1sillyseason: petition for someone to tell us the FULL tea immediately i am not surviving the offseason otherwise

@/maxstappen44: someone check the abu dhabi paddock for the body bc Max BURIED charles during that conference and no one even noticed at first

@/charlesupportgroup: me watching Max roast my boy alive while he looks increasingly confused 👁️👄👁️

@/f1updates: sources in the paddock say “everyone’s being normal” but the vibes are off like someone’s about to get unfollowed on instagram levels of off

@/abudhabidrama: you are telling me Max verstappen and charles leclerc are beefing and i don't even get a backstory??? this is abuse

@/f1wagsleaks: what the actual hell is going on between Max and charles?? Max had BEEF ENERGY in that press conference and charles looked like he had no idea why i’m obsessed

@/formulachaos: MAX: “It’s nice when the people in your life actually show up to support you :)” stares directly at Charles CHARLES: 🧍‍♂️ GEORGE: 👀🚪

@/postracegossip: this is officially the most tense podium press conference i’ve ever seen someone bring popcorn and possibly a referee

@/notdutchjustfast: someone explain to me like I’m five: Why is Max acting like Charles ran over his cat and why is Charles acting like he doesn’t remember what a cat is

@/f1girliesunite: this has nothing to do with racing and everything to do with a woman, I feel it

@/danriccsmilez:George Russell is the human equivalent of the “I do not see it” meme rn He saw whatever drama that was and said “not my circus, not my millionaires”

@/mclarenshadowstalker: Lando. speak now. We know you know TELL US

@/chaosandcheckered: Next year’s Drive to Survive is going to need a trigger warning

***

Text Messages: George Russell & Alex Albon

George: Mate, do you know what’s going on between max and charles

Alex: what Alex: no Alex: why

George: Press conference was WEIRD George: Max basically roasted him alive George: Charles looked like he didn’t even know why

Alex: lol Alex: no idea Alex: i wasn’t even paying attentio

George: alex George: seriously George: it was tense

Alex: how tense are we talking Alex: like Alex: mild paddock gossip tense Alex: or Alex: security might need to intervene tense

George: somewhere in the middle George: like "passive aggressive christmas dinner" levels of tense

Alex: oof Alex: hate that

George: i swear max was this close to throwing a chair

Alex: charles wouldn’t survive that Alex: he’d just start apologizing and not know why

George: that’s the problem George: he looked genuinely confused

Alex: 😂😂 Alex: classic

George: seriously George: if you hear anything George: tell me George: i don’t want to get blindsided if they start swinging in parc fermé

Alex: lmao Alex: will keep ears open Alex: but rn all i know is Alex: max is mad Alex: charles is confused Alex: george is stressed

George: useless

Alex: you knew that when you texted me 🫶

***

Text Messages: George Russell & Lando Norris

George: Mate George: What’s going on with max and charles

Lando: Uh Lando: what do you mean

George: don’t play dumb George: press conference was insane George: max basically called him fake to his face

Lando: 👀 Lando: i mean Lando: uh Lando: i didn’t really notice anything

George: lando

Lando: maybe max’s just tired?? Lando: long season Lando: lots of emotions you know 😅

George: he looked ready to rip someone’s head off

Lando: 😬 Lando: well Lando: maybe he just really cares about honesty and support and…stuff

George: what do you know

Lando: nothing

George: lando.

Lando: i don’t know anything i can legally say

George: what does that even mean

Lando: listen mate Lando: for your own safety Lando: stay out of it

George: out of what??

Lando: THE VORTEX

George: what vortex

Lando: the verstappen-leclerc vortex Lando: you don’t want to get sucked in

George: lando. George: what did max do George: what did charles do

Lando: max didn’t do anything Lando: charles didn’t do anything Lando: everyone’s innocent Lando: and i’m especially innocent

George: you’re being very suspicious

Lando: i’m being ALIVE Lando: which is what you should focus on

George: so i should be worried

Lando: VERY worried Lando: but not about you Lando: about your proximity to the drama

George: brilliant George: great George: fantastic

Lando: good chat 😌

George: remind me to never trust you again

Lando: you never should’ve started

***

Fernando Alonso liked to think he was good at reading people.

Came with the territory — two decades in Formula 1, countless teammates, politics thicker than engine oil. You survived by knowing who was lying, who was hiding something, who was seconds from setting fire to their own garage.

And today? Today, something was off.

He was leaning casually against the Aston Martin hospitality wall, sipping a tiny, bitter espresso, when he saw it.

Max Verstappen. Walking through the paddock. Not alone.

Isabelle Leclerc, right beside him.

Nothing scandalous. No hand-holding, no grand gestures. Just two people walking.

But Max — Max, who barely let people breathe the same air as him — was walking close. Protective. Easy. Like it wasn’t new. Like it wasn’t a secret.

Fernando narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses.

Interesting.

He watched them — Max steering her casually through the chaos with a light touch at the small of her back, Isabelle laughing at something he said, bright and unbothered.

Fernando turned slightly, caught a glimpse of Charles Leclerc a few garages down — not noticing any of this.

More interesting.

Later, during media rounds, he saw Lando Norris visibly flinch when someone mentioned Isabelle's name near a microphone.

And Fernando — two-time world champion, professional paddock gossip connoisseur — put it all together.

After all, he hadn’t survived in this sport for nothing.

He caught Max alone for a moment near the Red Bull hospitality, standing with that casual, lazy posture that fooled no one.

Fernando strolled up, espresso in hand.

"Congratulations," Fernando said smoothly. "On the race. And... other things."

Max raised an eyebrow, cool as ever. "Thanks."

Fernando sipped his coffee, studying him over the rim of the cup. "You think Charles is going to kill you when he finds out?"

Max’s mouth twitched. "Eventually."

Fernando chuckled, low and pleased. "Good. It was getting boring around here."

Max just smirked, entirely unbothered.

Fernando shook his head, amused beyond measure. "You know," he said, stepping back, "I always knew you were a reckless bastard. Just didn’t think you'd go for family drama reckless."

Max tipped his head slightly, as if accepting the compliment.

"And her?" Fernando asked, almost curiously. "Isabelle?"

Max’s smirk faded, just a little, replaced by something quieter. Steadier.

Fernando recognized it immediately — the rare thing that made even champions stupid.

 Real.

 Not for show. Not for the cameras. Not for PR.

Max shrugged one shoulder, casual but firm. "She’s worth it."

Fernando barked a short laugh, clapped Max on the shoulder once. "Good," he said. "Make it worth it."

Then he tossed back the rest of his espresso, tossed the cup into a bin without looking, and strolled away — whistling under his breath.

Because finally, finally, the paddock was interesting again.

***

The roar of celebration had faded behind them. No club lights, no champagne-soaked chaos, no loud music or podium flashbacks playing on screens.

Just altitude, quiet, and the steady hum of the jet engines as they cut through the darkness above the Gulf.

Isabelle curled into the wide leather seat, legs tucked beneath her, Max’s hoodie swallowed around her frame. Across from her, Max sat slouched with one arm thrown over the back of the seat, utterly at ease. The cap was gone, curls slightly messy. His race suit was half-unzipped and swapped for a black t-shirt. He looked tired. Soft around the edges.

He’d insisted they skip the party. Said he’d had enough noise. Said he just wanted to go home. Said she was home.

She hadn’t argued.

Now, with the cabin lights dimmed and the stars beyond the windows flickering against the black, Isabelle found herself staring at him — at his calm, unreadable profile — and feeling something enormous pressing against her chest.

"Your dad found me this morning," she said, voice quiet, almost lost in the hum.

Max turned to her immediately, alert in that subtle way he always was when it came to her. "Yeah?"

She nodded, gaze dropping to the thin gold ring around her thumb — one he’d bought her in Tokyo because she’d paused in front of a shop window for half a second.

"He pulled me aside. Said some things."

Max’s brows lifted. "Bad things?"

She shook her head. "No. Just... direct."

Max’s mouth twitched. "So, my father."

Isabelle smiled faintly. "He told me I wasn’t weak. That I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone. That I was a Verstappen now."

That made Max still. Not alarmed. Not tense. Just still. Like the words had rooted somewhere deep.

"He said if anyone gave me trouble, they’d have to answer to him," she added, voice softer now. "Then just walked off like he hadn’t made me want to cry in the middle of the paddock."

Max leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, elbows propped. Watching her.

"I didn’t ask him to say that," he said, measured. "I only asked him to look out for you."

"I know," she murmured.

"And?" he asked, eyes searching hers. "Did it help?"

She let out a slow breath. "Yeah. It helped. It was... grounding. A little terrifying. But grounding."

Max smiled, small and real. "He likes you."

"Scary way of showing it," she said wryly.

Max shrugged. "He doesn’t know how to be soft. But loyalty? That’s his version of love."

She nodded slowly. Let the words sink in.

After a moment, she added, quieter still: "It meant something. Hearing that. Being told I belonged."

Max reached across the space between them and took her hand, threading their fingers together.

"In every way that matters," he said, voice low, steady, fierce, "you already are."

Her eyes flicked up to his.

"You’re mine," Max added, thumb brushing along the curve of her knuckle. "My partner. My person. My home."

She swallowed thickly. His hand was warm, steady. Unmoving.

"And if you want your passport to match someday..."

 He smiled, just a little — not teasing, not even hinting.

 Promise.

"We’ll make that happen too."

Isabelle’s breath hitched.

There was no rush.

No pressure.

But it was there — quiet and solid and waiting.

The life they were building.

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, leaning across the aisle until her forehead rested against his.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I know," Max murmured. "I love you more."

And the hum of the engines, the silence of the sky, the softness of this stolen moment — it all folded in around them like a secret the world hadn’t figured out yet.

But soon.

Soon, they wouldn’t be hiding anymore.

And Isabelle — steady and ready — would meet it all head-on. Head up. Eyes forward.

Like a Verstappen.

***

Instagram Story: @/isabelleleclerc

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/gridgossip: Isabelle ending her q&a by thanking people for asking about HER and not her brothers... I'm crying in the club actually

@/monacoprincess: no bc imagine living your whole life in the shadow of your brothers and finally being like "thank you for seeing me".  this girl deserves the world

@/paddocktalk: her just wanting to exist as HERSELF not "charles' sister" not "leclerc family member #3" just isabelle i’m going to start swinging

@/f1girlie: the worst part is you can TELL she didn’t expect people to care about her and she still answered so kindly and openly… protect her at all costs

@/undercutqueen: me watching isabelle leclerc quietly exist without demanding attention and somehow being the most interesting person in the paddock [insert emotional damage meme]

@/rbrsunshine: no bc the amount of grace and patience isabelle must have to live in the leclerc orbit and STILL be this soft and sweet… i would have gone feral YEARS ago

@/paddocktea: the fact that this was her first Q&A ever and she was genuinely shocked people asked about her and not charles/arthur???  we failed her as a society

@/tifosimama: you know what?  isabelle leclerc appreciation post. talented. stylish. kind. strong. soft-spoken but powerful. this is an isabelle stan account now.

@/f1girlies: when isabelle said "everyone should have an emilie" about emilie…i just. i need to go lie down.

@/mclarenmischief: also her talking about victoria verstappen??? saying "not a lot of people can understand what it’s like” like no wonder they’re close. It’s a whole different kind of fear

@/ferrarifangirl: THE WAY ISABELLE AND VICTORIA UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER WITHOUT EVEN HAVING TO EXPLAIN IT… that hit way harder than i expected

@/gridgossip: isabelle casually saying "everyone deserves one friend like emilie" has me SOBBING at 3pm on a Monday

@/gridgossip: new theory: what if she’s been cat-sitting Max’s cats this whole time and we’ve just been clowns not seeing it

@/p1princess: what if the cats always knew…what if sassy and jimmy were the REAL first ones to approve of belle

@/redbullracingwives: charles not letting isabelle borrow his cars is both hilarious and the most big brother energy imaginable

@/honeybadgerenergy: ISABELLE LECLERC DRIVES A VOLVO

not a ferrari

not a lamborghini

a VOLVO

she's actually mothering the entire paddock i fear

@/gridgossip: isabelle leclerc posting a literal MOODBOARD during a casual q&a and it’s everything i want my future house to be

she’s unreal

@/mclarenmischief: her caption was literally "be nice" and then she dropped the most perfect moodboard like it was NOTHING

[derinwrites]

The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

[lavnderwonu]

So High School | Kim Mingyu

pairing: fiancé!mingyu x pregnant!fem!reader

rating: fluff, mature

genre: non-idol au, slice of life, established relationship

summary: you and your fiancé haven't discussed the idea of you having children, but with your wedding approaching, the idea of starting a family with him has been on your mind.

warnings: please read ALL! contains smut! not much but a little! (!!!) some time skips, reader gets pregnant, planned pregnancy, reader's mom loves mingyu, reader deals with morning sickness (for my fellow emetophobics this may be triggering!), minwon coworkers mentioned, smut warnings: creampie, unprotected sex, multiple rounds mentioned, backshots, fingering.

word count: 3k

AHEM! go listen to so high school by taylor swift (perhaps while you read!)

author's note!: i listened to taylor waaaay too much while i was writing this, as you can probably tell by the title 🫣 what can i say! guilty. my first time writing slice of life au! i had fun lowkey. AGHHH i just love writing cute mingyu esp when it involves future dad mingyu. the song lyrics are meant to be spacers for the time-skips btw! shoutout to @jenoslutie for also supporting my vision with this 💋 muah xo

click here to join my taglist!

I feel so high school every time I look at you, I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you...

Mingyu was your dream man in many ways than one. The perfect boy to bring home to your parents, cooked delicious meals for you, and overall made you feel safe. 

You two had been engaged for months now, and wedding planning was well underway, the date set for early into the new year. As if it wasn’t stressful enough, your mom had already started questioning whether the two of you had wanted children, or planned to in the future. The answer was always the same,

“Mom, I don’t know… we haven’t talked about it into a lot of detail… maybe later on…” or “C’mon, we’re still young, Mom!” 

Mingyu didn’t know any of this, and you’d probably never tell him, not wanting him to feel pressured by your badgering mother. You both knew you wanted children eventually, but you never talked that far into the future.

But… you also thought… maybe you would want to have children, if it was with Mingyu. 

Mingyu would be the father to play dress up and makeovers with your daughter, have tea parties with her, or play with faux tools with your son and pretend to fix things, and play with plastic dinosaurs.

You couldn't picture anybody that would be more perfect to do it with than him.

Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It's just a game, but really I'm bettin' on all three for us two...

Mingyu stands at the kitchen counter, cooking dinner like he usually does, and he usually insists since he gets home a little earlier from work than you do most days. 

You come from the kitchen after changing out of your work clothes to see him chopping garlic as a pot is boiling on the stove. 

“What are you making?”

“Agio e olio,” Mingyu responds, looking up to smile at you briefly. “I know it’s your favorite, and you said you were craving it.”

You smile, coming over to kiss him on the cheek quickly. “Thank you, you make it so good anyway.” You chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes. 

He tosses the garlic in a pan on the stove, stirring it a little, then adds the pasta to the boiling water.

You decide now is the time to break your silence, and tell him what’s been on your mind lately.

“Gyu,” You speak up. “… I think we should talk about something.” 

“What?” Mingyu’s gaze turns to meet yours, a concerned look on his face, and you immediately want to kiss him and make it go away.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been thinking…” You pause, racking your brain on how to word what you’re about to tell him, also given that you didn’t want to scare him. “What do you think about us… having a baby?” 

You look up at his undeniable surprised expression; after all you did come out of nowhere with that statement.

“I mean, I know we haven’t really discussed it much, and we’re getting married in a few months… but I have been thinking about it a lot, and I want to, we’re at that age-“ You break out into a nervous ramble before he cuts you off.

“I’ve thought about it too. I thought it should be something that we should…you know… talk about.” Mingyu says.

“I don’t want to put any pressure on you, or I guess, on us.” You continue. “I know we’re not married officially yet, and our wedding isn’t until a few more months, but I don’t know, I think I want to.” 

Mingyu turns to you, smiling ear to ear in the adorable happy puppy way he typically does when he’s over the top excited about something. “I know, me too.”

“Does this mean… we’re trying?” You can’t even hide your smile, your cheeks hurt as you attempt to be the least bit nonchalant.

“Yeah… fuck… c’mere.” Mingyu pulls you closer to him, kissing you fervently.

You pull back, releasing his grip from your waist.

“Hey, after dinner,” You smirk, giggling at his eagerness. “You’re gonna burn your garlic.”

“Mingyu… I can’t, fuck-“ You whine, your face nearly buried into the pillow underneath you.

“Yeah you can baby…” Mingyu grunts, his hand slides up your back to push you down even more. “Taking it all like a good girl…”

You nearly collapse as you can barely hold yourself up anymore, and you’re being pushed forward almost to the headboard from the force of him behind you.

“I’m gonna come, ‘gyu.” You cry, your hand trailing down to rub tight circles on your clit, making your thighs tremble as you push yourself closer to the edge. 

“Go on baby…” Mingyu groans, feeling you get tighter around him. “Cum all over my cock like a good girl.”

You cry his name again as he pushes you over the edge, white-knuckling the sheets as he keeps thrusting inside you, almost even harder.

“Fuck…”  He groans as he slows down, stilling before he comes inside you.

He pulls out, watching himself drip out of you briefly as he curses under his breath, before he pushes it back inside you with two fingers, making you whine.

“Sorry, baby…” Mingyu sweetly apologizes.

You flip over on your back, pulling him down to kiss him.

“I wanna go again…” You say against his lips, pushing his sweaty long hair back.

“Really?” He asks sweetly, leaning down to kiss your neck a few times. “Wasn’t too much?”

“Never…”

Truth, dare, spin bottles, You know how to ball, I know Aristotle Brand new, full-throttle, Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto...

The next few weeks were just the usual. Going into work during the day, shopping for the wedding with your sister, … Mingyu practically never leaving you alone, but that you wouldn’t complain about.

“What kind of flowers are you guys doing?” Your sister asks you. The two of you made plans to get coffee, and you guys typically talked about whatever. She always voiced her opinion on your life whether it was boyfriends, career moves, and now: your wedding.

“White lilies; one of my favorites. Mingyu said I could just pick what I wanted, he’s happy with whatever I choose.” You say.

“That’s sweet,” She smiles, stirring her matcha latte. “Even though, he probably doesn’t care.” She chuckles.

“You’re probably right, I think he has other things on his mind other than flowers.” You laugh, only you know what you mean by that. 

You never told her the both of you had been trying to have a baby.

“I’ve always liked him, though, you know that.” She smiles. “If there’s anybody you marry and spend forever with, i'm glad it’s him. He’s just right for you.”

You smile, glancing down as your gaze flickers on your sparkling engagement ring under the coffee shop lights.

You’re definitely glad it’s him.

“Do you mind if we go into the grocery store down the street? I need to just run in and get a few things.” She asks you.

You nod. “Yeah, that’s fine. I could probably use a few things too.” 

“How do you know if a watermelon is a really good one?” She asks you, as the fruit by the entrance catches her eye.

“You’re asking me?” You laugh. “I have no idea, I have heard though if they’re a dark green, it’s too watery.”

“You were always good at picking them, I know Mom used to always say that.” She replies. “Maybe I won’t get one, are they even in season?”

“Probably not, it’s November. Anyway, what did you need here?” You say, grabbing a hand basket for yourself.

“Just usual stuff, yogurt… eggs, oat milk, some strawberries… whatever else I find that I think i need.” She says, placing strawberries and avocados in her cart. Already straying from the list. 

You follow her, bagging up some apples, cucumbers, and brussel sprouts into your basket. 

You’re both wandering down the ice cream aisle, as you’re grabbing whatever pint of peanut butter ice cream you can find, when your sister speaks up.

“Oh! Let’s go to the hygiene section, I need to get some tampons. That time of the month soon.”

You pause, ice cream in hand, suddenly racking your brain trying to remember when the last time your period was. A few weeks ago? Last month? Were you supposed to get it? Were you late?

“Y/n…? What’s wrong? Everything okay?” She asks, seemingly able to read your inner monologue going on in your head. 

“Y-yeah…” You reply, placing the ice cream in your basket, all while your heart is still racing. Was it joy? Nervousness? “It’s just… I can’t remember the last time I had my period…”

I'm watching American Pie with you on a Saturday night Your friends are around, so be quiet, I'm trying to stifle my sighs 'Cause I feel so high school, Every time I look at you...

“I feel bad doing this without him,” You say, staring down at the two blinking pregnancy tests on the counter. “Mingyu should be here…”

“He’ll be home from work soon won’t he? You’ll tell him then. C’mon, he’ll understand, practically sister code for me to be the first one to know.” She replies, checking the time on her phone. 

It’s true, you both always did tell each other everything before you told anybody else. 

“It’s almost time.”

“I can’t look.” You anxiously turn away. “It’s killing me.”

“How did this happen?” She asks. “I mean… not to be nosey….”

“Well we talked about it, and we’ve been kinda… sorta, trying to get pregnant.” 

“What?! How come you didn’t tell me you were?” She exclaims, playfully shoving you.

“We decided to about a little over a month ago. We talked about it, we decided it was something we both wanted,” You start, just as her phone timer goes off, you quickly turn around from the counter. “Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t look.”

“I’ll do it first,” She says, shoving her way in front of you. “Oh my god… y/n…” You can hear the excitement and smile in her voice.

You turn around, facing the two tests.

You see it, “pregnant”, displayed clearly on both.

“Oh my god, I don’t,” You almost stutter, lost for words. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Good news?” She asks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You smile, suddenly becoming teary, feeling a bunch of emotions at once. Excitement. Nervousness.  “I just- fuck… I wish Mingyu was here. I didn’t want to find out like this.”

“Relax, you’ll tell him later,” She laughs. “Especially ‘cause I know you won’t be able to keep this from him long.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. There’s no way I’m holding it in.”

And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me...

You spend the evening trying to decide elaborate ways that you’ll tell him. 

Putting a test in a gift bag as a present? Corny.

Hiding it somewhere and letting him find it? Too lame.

You decided to literally just come right out and tell him, especially because you didn’t want to figure out some cliche way of getting it out.

Mingyu comes home from work, greeting you as he walks in the door, adorably kissing your forehead as he wraps his arms around you, perfectly engulfing you.

“How was your day, honey?” He sweetly asks you, genuinely curious as he’s awaiting your answer. 

“It was good actually, I had coffee with my sister, then we went to the grocery store, doesn’t sound like much but we had fun.” You lean up and kiss his lips, smiling.

“But it’s better now that you’re here.” 

Mingyu smiles, kissing you again.

“I’m going to get changed really quick, okay?” Mingyu says.

You jokingly pout. “Aw, but you look so nice in your slacks and button up shirt… at least let me savor it.” You reach up, undoing a few buttons on his shirt.

“Enjoying this?” Mingyu chuckles.

“Yes, very.” You smile.

“Well I was gonna ask you, if you wanted to, Wonwoo and Seungcheol asked if we wanted to go out and get dinner with them, and hang out maybe get some drinks.” He continues, before he starts walking off to your shared bedroom to change, as you follow him. “Wonwoo asked me before I left the office.” 

“I don’t know… maybe?” You reply, hesitating a bit.

Meanwhile your mind works a mile a minute trying to think of how to break this news of yours to him.

“It wouldn’t be until a little later, if that’s better. No rush.” Mingyu says, nonchalantly unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off. What a distraction. 

He slips on a white t-shirt , and gray sweatpants; his usual after work attire. Suddenly you wonder if whatever you have to tell him is really that important anyway, and you immediately consider just saying “forget it” and fucking him right here in the early hours of the evening. What’d be the big deal? You were already pregnant, anyways.

No! You quickly shake that thought from your mind, refocusing.

“Gyu,” You start, getting his full attention. “There’s something… I have to tell you something.”

“What?” 

“I’m not even really sure how to tell you, um hang on,” You continue, leaving the room quickly to retrieve one of the pregnancy tests you’d left in the bathroom. 

You come back, very obviously holding something behind your back.

“I guess I should say I kind of have a surprise to tell you.”

“What? What?” Mingyu asks, eager already by the way you’re already smirking, unable to contain yourself.

“It’s, um, this…” You start, pulling the test from behind your back. “I didn’t know how to tell you, I was gonna plan something but I couldn’t wait.” You laugh, smiling ear to ear.

Mingyu takes it from you, seemingly uncaring, or forgetting, that you literally peed on the thing. His mouth drops opened, in awe.

“Oh my god…” He speaks, beaming. “When did you find out?” 

“Today, actually.” You say. “I wound up taking a test, and… yeah.” 

You sigh. “I feel so weird about it, I know I was expecting it but I feel so excited and nervous at the same time.”

You glance up at Mingyu, and you see him still examining the test in his hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu nods, his eyes meeting yours and you see he’s now smiling. “I’m just… happy, surprised..”

“I mean, cmon, what were we really expecting…” You joke, blushing.

“You know what I mean, it’s still crazy to me.” Mingyu comes closer to you, kissing you. 

“Yeah, it sure is…” You smile up at him. 

“It’s okay, honey,” Mingyu reassures you, speaking softly. “Just get it out…”

Mingyu kneels behind you on the cold tile floor, holding your hair back as you’re hanging your head over the toilet as your stomach empties its contents.

“There you go…” 

You wonder how he can even stand to be in the bathroom with you, if the roles were reversed, you’d be outside the door nearly gagging.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks, helping you sit up, as he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady. 

You slowly nod as you flush, still feeling a touch of nausea. “Yeah, can you just- just stay here for a little bit.” 

Mingyu sits on the tile floor as he leans against the bathtub, and he guides you back to sit in front of him.

You lean back into him, and he leans down and kisses your shoulder. You catch a glance at his watch on his wrist even in the dim light of the very early morning.

“Oh my god, Gyu, is it really 5am?” You groggily ask, feeling sorry. “You have to work in the morning, don’t you?”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.” Mingyu reassures you. “I can always go in a little later, I wanna make sure you’re okay.” 

“…I think I’m good now,” You say, starting to stand up slowly, as Mingyu helps you all the way. “…You know, I have heard that the more nauseas you are, it probably means you’re having a girl. And if you have none at all, it’s probably a boy.”

Mingyu chuckles, “Where do you come up with this? Is that even a thing?” 

“The internet… you know, social media. Everything’s on there.” You protest.

“You’re delirious,” Mingyu playfully rolls his eyes. “Cmon, let’s go back to bed.”

“Gyu, we have to leave in like an hour,” You say, as you’re getting ready in the bathroom, finishing up your final touches on your hair. “I don’t want to be late for dinner at my parents house.”

Mingyu stands in the doorway now, “This okay?” He shows off a navy blue polo shirt and black jeans. 

“Yeah, honey, you look nice.” You smile. “Besides, you could wear anything around her, she adores you anyways.” 

It was true. Your mother would always be calling Mingyu to help around the house when your Father was away on a business trip. She needed help fixing something? She’d call Mingyu. She needs help building a side table? You bet she’s calling Mingyu. His height was also a bonus, being able to reach things stored higher up.

Mingyu smiles at you adoringly, as his eyes trail down your body.

“What?” You ask when you notice him.

“You’re starting to show a little,” He smiles. “You look cute.”

You giggle, placing your hands on your stomach. “Yeah I know, she wants to be seen now, she’s done hiding.” 

“Well, are my girls ready to go?” Mingyu smiles, kissing you. 

“Yeah,” You giggle, smiling as you kiss him again. “Let’s go.” 

It's true, swear, scouts honor You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her.

tags: @jenoslutie @wonuwrites @aaniag @cosmojinyoung

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Here's my favorite live version of "In a Big Country" that I've been meaning to post for awhile since I discovered it. It's not the best played version musically (Stuart makes a few mistakes during his solo), but to me it is the best version of this song live because it has the most heart and passion. Hopefully it starts playing at the 12:39 mark which is right before they start the song, but if not, this is also a fantastic live performance of even some of Big Country's songs that I don't like the studio versions of (but I like the versions of them played here)! This is just, basically, from start to finish a stunning performance and I highly recommend watching it, especially if you're a new listener to or fan of the band.

[ailesswhumptober]

Prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2024

As promised, we're bringing you the official prompt list of AI-less Whumptober 2024 today!

We have 31 days of excellent whump prompts, with three prompts per day to pick from, fun themes, and 10 alt prompts to play around with. We hope you enjoy! Additional info + plain text versions of the prompts can be found under the cut.

FAQ and Rules

What sort of content can I create for this event?

You can create whatever you want (fic, art, edits, etc). Any fandom is allowed, as well as OC stuff. NSFW is allowed, but please tag your content accordingly! The only thing not allowed is AI-generated content.

Do I need to make 31 things to participate?

Oh heavens no! You can make as much or as little content as you like, skip days when desired, or combine prompts (so for example, write something that covers a prompt from day 1, 2, AND 3). You don't have to do the days in order either, go wild! To be considered a 'completionist', you only have to make sure that at the end of the month, you've covered 31 prompts from 31 different days, but whether you do that in 31 works or just 1 is up to you.

What are these alts about?

If none of the three prompts of a particular day are your cup of tea, you can swap them out for an alt prompt of your choice.

What are these themes about?

Just a little bit of extra fun for the mods. Like last year, we'll be handing out various badges for people participating in the event. A full list can be found here, perhaps there is a special badge or two for people who can't be completionists but who do manage to finish every single day of a specific theme ;)

How do I tag and is there an AO3 collection?

It suffices to tag your work with #ailesswhumptober for us to see and reblog it! Please also tag nsfw, since we'll be using that tag too. Tagging the day is optional but does help the mods along.

There is an AO3 collection to add your fics to here.

That should be all. If you have any additional questions, check our pinned or hit us up in the ask box. Or join our discord maybe, whumping can be a great group activity!

---

Plain text versions of the prompts:

October 1 - Torture Tuesday

public torture/public use, stress position, “If you cry, we’ll go easy on you.”

October 2 - Whumperless Wednesday

Unfortunate fall, car accident, “Don’t move. You’ll be okay.”

October 3 - Trauma Thursday

Shared trauma, survivor’s guilt, “It’s not your fault.”

October 4 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Painful transformation, non-consensual body modifications, “You’re a monster.”

October 5 - Sensory Saturday

Overstimulation, migraines, “I can’t take this anymore.”

October 6 - Surprise Sunday

Multiple whumpees, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”

October 7 - Medical Monday

Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

October 8 - Torture Tuesday

Rope burns, gagged, “You’re so much prettier this way.”

October 9 - Whumperless Wednesday

Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

October 10 - Trauma Thursday

Self worth issues, pushing away a loved one, “You don't need to earn this.”

October 11 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Hallucinations, truth serum, “Why would you even say that?”

October 12 - Sensory Saturday

Isolation, sensory deprivation, “Can you feel me? I’m right here, whumpee.”

October 13 - Surprise Sunday

Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

October 14 - Medical Monday

Seizures, concussion, “See if you can follow my finger with your eyes.”

October 15 - Torture Tuesday

Waterboarding, removing body parts, “Don’t break down on me yet.”

October 16 - Whumperless Wednesday

Drowning, hostile environment, “I don’t know how anybody could survive that.”

October 17 - Trauma Thursday

Abandonment, misunderstanding, “Why did I even think you cared?”

October 18 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

October 19 - Sensory Saturday

Disassociation, losing a sense, “I wish I could get you back.”

October 20 - Surprise Sunday

Enemy/Stranger to caretaker, accidental de-aging, “I’m absolutely not qualified for this shit.”

October 21 - Medical Monday

Drugged, ambulance ride, “This will make you feel better, okay?”

October 22 - Torture Tuesday

Forced (to kneel/watch/hurt somebody else), whipped, “Do not look away.” October 23 - Whumperless Wednesday

Fever, passing out, “Hey?! Stay with me, okay?!”

October 24 - Trauma Thursday

Deconditioning, relapse, “It’s normal that you need more time.”

October 25 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Humiliation, betrayal, “How could you?!”

October 26 - Sensory Saturday

Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.”

October 27 - Surprise Sunday

Before vs after, Alternate universe, “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

October 28 - Medical Monday

Internal bleeding, needles and stitches, “I didn’t think the wound was that bad…”

October 29 - Torture Tuesday

Ownership, branding, “Everybody will know that you’re mine.”

October 30 - Whumperless Wednesday

Poison, delirium, “You’re not making sense.”

October 31 - Trauma Thursday

Panic attack, facing a phobia, “You need to get out of here!”

Alt prompts:

1) Pistol whipped

2) Co-dependency

3) Animal bite

4) Zombies

5) White room torture

6) Shock collar

7) Pulling teeth

8) Kidnapping

9) “You always make everything worse!”

10) “If you weren’t around, I’d be long dead by now...”

[unopposablethumbsao3]

Med school student and noted old man fucker Julian Bashir taking his daddy issues to get drunk one night and running into noted old man Curzon Dax--Curzon, of course, is like "oh hey, free twink", and fucks him in a bathroom stall before heading out to continue his evening of, I don't know, head butting Klingons and both causing and resolving interstellar diplomatic crises. Julian never actually gets his name, and continues with his hot mess express voyage to salutatorian and Deep Space Nine.

Years later, Jadzia Dax on a ship to her new posting, only half paying attention to the sort-of-familiar twink CMO who's very awkwardly hitting on her. She knows she's seen this guy before, she just can't quite figure out where, like, this is his very first posting, he's a brand new graduate from Starfleet medical, and Jadzia's never actually been to Earth herself, in fact the last time Dax was in San Francisco was ... Oh. Oh no.

And of course, at first this is just a little awkward for her--she doesn't like all the things Curzon used to get up to, but like, they were mostly pretty harmless, and she certainly doesn't begrudge him a quick hookup with a very pretty young med student, even if he was possibly a little drunker than she'd like. And of course, it's not like Julian's ever going to know--he was wasted, and Curzon never even told him his name, so really, it's not a problem for Jadzia to put it aside and just be a professional. He's a colleague! No worries! That's that!

Except then she starts to get to know Julian. And beyond the fact that he's a damn good doctor and, it turns out, a deeply loyal friend, the closer they get, the more she starts to see flashes of how vulnerable he is under all the bluster and bravado--he puts on a hell of a brave front, but there's something wounded about him, and a deep, deep need for other people's approval, especially from potential father figures. All of which adds up to Jadzia feeling worse and worse about what happened between him and Curzon. But of course at this point, it feels like it's a little too late for her to say anything. What would it achieve other than embarrassing him, and adding a layer of complication to what's somehow become one of her closest, most important friendships.

Which is why she instead quietly swears a Klingon blood oath that she will protect this twink with her life if it comes to it--that's her pet twink now and anybody messing with him in any way for any reason is going to have to answer to her.

And yes this also means that when Julian and Garak start dating, Jadzia turns up at Garak's shop at closing time with some very pointed questions and an even pointier knife, and refuses to leave until she's absolutely certain that Garak's intentions are honourable (insofar as he's capable of honourable intentions) AND that he knows that if he hurts Julian, she will in fact be carving out his heart and eating it in the middle of the Promenade. Which of course means that Garak figures out what happened between Julian and Curzon because you can't go off on him like that without him instantly clocking the ulterior motives, so now they're at mutually assured destruction, which of course is how they also start to become very good friends (yes Worf hates this).

Also, Jadzia does NOT die during the war--she's Julian's best man when he marries Garak on Cardassia ten years later (neither she nor Garak ever tell Julian about the whole Curzon thing, or the whole I-will-eat-your-heart thing, though he lowkey knows SOMETHING is up because they won't stop exchanging meaningful nods every time they get a little drunk together).

[cologona]

The fact that Jason’s wearing his murderer’s old title is a fun detail for angst but good god, “taking ownership of his trauma” is not his primary reason, or even secondary reason for doing so.

Practicality is core to Jason’s character. He did not learn to use bombs because he died from an explosion, he used them because they’re destructive and remote controlled and that’s useful for his goals. Even his theatrics are for a purpose of communication. Remember that he spent all of Lost Days in the same ratty track suit, and never took credit for anyone he killed or anybody he saved. If he isn’t saying something to someone he doesn’t bother.

So what is the practical utility of taking on the Red Hood persona?

It’s crap as a symbol of fear. Unlike the silhouette of giant bat, which stokes the imagination, the sight of some guy in a helmet hardly inspires anything more than perhaps thoughts of motorcycles. The name itself is merely a reference to the costume and the costume is just a thing to hide your face. It’s the most spartan, pared down persona one could have. That it used to be Joker’s hardly helps because it was only his back when Joker was just an ordinary man— and a rather pathetic no-name fall guy at that. Anyone clued in enough to know about it is more liable to think of Jason as another nutjob than to be intimidated.

But that’s the point. Jason doesn’t need a symbol of fear because he gives people perfectly tangible reasons to fear him. The Red Hood persona is nearly devoid of expression, but because of that it’s very effective at the one thing it does express- “I am a criminal. Refer to me by color because there is nothing more to know.” Its association with Joker taints anyone else who uses it with the implication of insanity, but insanity is useful when any crook or businessman worth his salt in Gotham knows not to bother questioning the non-negotiables of its local lunatics.

Jason is an especially acrobatic single-operator pushing a seemingly altruistic agenda. It would’ve been very easy for him to get labeled as another vigilante. One that is more comfortable getting blood on his hands maybe, but a vigilante nonetheless. That he’s able to function the way he does, while still being taken seriously a rogue and crime lord is due in large part to his very deliberate presentation.

Why, if Jason thinks what he does is good and necessary, does he present himself this way? Maybe because from the start, his beliefs were more nuanced than one would be lead to believe. That Jason thinks his actions are necessary does not mean he must also think they should be attributed to righteousness or justice. He explains in Outsiders: PAYG— what it means for a ‘bad guy’ to do something is different from if a ‘good guy’ does the same thing. Jason essentially makes the same point Tim once made to Huntress about public trust in heroes but from the opposite angle.

The assertions modern comics make about why Jason has the Red Hood mantle (and why he uses a crowbar) ring very hollow to me. It feels like an almost deliberate push to erase the complexity he had as a villain in favor of a squeaky clean redemption arc. The way I see it though, so long as Jason remains Red Hood any sort of “redemption” he has is a false one. He’s still holding onto the symbol of his convictions, just because he’s willing to betray himself and others for love doesn’t mean that he’s changed his mind about how it all works.