#I HAD TO RAMBLE TOO BECAUSE THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER

[original-szajnie]

Klonnie Weekend 2025: Fake Dating

It starts, as these things often do in her life, with a threat.

Bonnie is on her way home from her first actual date she’s been on since Jeremy kissed a ghost. Probably her first actual date, period, she considers with a twinge. Nothing special, just burgers and fries at the Grill—but she’s feeling kind of good. Lip gloss still intact. Curls still bouncing. And then—

“Witch.”

She freezes, one hand tightening around the strap of her purse. There’s mace inside, but she knows that won’t do any good. The night air had been warm against her skin, scented with honeysuckle and the last ghost of spring rain, but now she feels a shiver run up her spine.

“Witch,” he repeats like she hadn’t heard him the first time. Like her fight or flight hadn’t just kicked into overdrive and he can’t hear the frantic tattoo of her heart. She takes a breath, turning slowly.

And, yup, there he is.

Klaus ��kill everyone you’ve ever loved’ Mikaelson standing beneath the shadows of a broken street-lamp, calm and terrible and annoyingly unruffled for midnight.

“Hybrid,” she greets in return, because why not.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

For a moment, he says nothing more. Just lets his gaze sweep her from head to foot in an indolent appraisal that has her spine snapping tight and magic humming beneath her skin.

That twitch becomes a smirk. “Relax, little witch. I’m not here to fight.”

“Then what are you here for?” She asks.

“I need your assistance,” he says, like it was a favor, like he hadn’t attempted to murder her best friend less than a year ago and threatened to dismember her in at least three different ways.

She folds her arms. “Why would I help you?”

Klaus opens his mouth—almost certainly to offer some graphic promise of death or dismemberment—but she cuts him off. “You know what, don’t. I get it. Carnage, pain, everyone I love in pieces. Classic. What is it this time? Linking spell? Did you lock Elijah in a coffin and lose the key?”

She has no idea where this sass is coming from and the survival instinct in her brain is screaming at her to ‘shut up’ but every time she quips, that mouth twitches and she can see the faintest hint of…dimples?

“Nothing so terrible,” he replies, tone light. “A bit of your witchy blood, a small incantation, and then—poof—you’re free to resume whatever terribly dull life you’re leading.” He holds an arm out as if to usher her along.

She blinks. “What? Now?”

”No time like the present.”

Bonnie grumbles, under her breath, just the teeniest bit defiant, because damn it, she’s tired, and she wants a good night’s sleep, and really was it so much to ask that date night not be a bust—when Klaus’s next words stop her mid-ramble.

“You smell like grease.”

She looks at him, eyes narrowing. “I smell like Daisy.”

“Yes, your floral perfume is there, as is your usual, inviting earthy scent. But you do smell like grease and burgers.”

She had an earthy scene? It was ‘inviting’? Nevermind that. “I was at the Grill.” Why is she explaining herself to him?

”The Grill.” His lip curls. “For a date?”

“Uh, yeah.”

He pauses again, looks at the empty street, then back to her. Then, disdainful: “And where is this date of yours?”

”Trevor has practi—“

”Trevor?” Klaus seems positively revolted by the name. “Trevor?” Klaus repeats, like the word itself is offensive. “You let a boy named Trevor take you on a date?”

Bonnie crosses her arms tighter. “It’s not that serious.”

“Clearly,” he mutters. “He abandoned you at the curb and didn’t even walk you to your door.”

Bonnie scowls. “Like I was saying—he has practice in the morning.”

Klaus’s eyes narrow. “So he left you alone. At night. After burgers. In Mystic Falls. Where half the population seems to be supernatural and the other half perpetually under threat.”

She blinks. “…Are you lecturing me right now?”

“No,” he says, too quickly. “But if I were, it would be well deserved.”

“Oh my god.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “This is not happening.”

Klaus takes a deliberate step closer, hands clasped behind his back like some academic lecturer about to give a lesson. “Dating as a concept emerged in the early 20th century, particularly in the 1920s. This shift was influenced by factors like women's increased participation in society, and their involvement in selecting partners without familial obligations.”

Oh. Shit. It is a lecture.

“A date should be a celebration of that choice,” he continued. “Something more than meat and mediocrity. A date, when done right, is the art of showing appreciation. Of anticipation.” He let his gaze wander over her face, lingering on her lips before back to her eyes. “The beginning of seduction.”

She ignores the way heat creeps up her neck, into her cheeks. the way her pulse is still racing, but not from fear…more like the anticipation he’s told her about. And she absolutely ignores the way her mouth feels heavy under his gaze, lips wanting to part.

“No wonder we couldn’t tell you apart from Alaric,” she comments, taking a step back. “Giving lectures nobody asked for.” She turns toward her front door. “Look, it’s late. Some of us aren’t nocturnal, so if it’s not life or death, I’m going to bed. You’ll get your blood and your spell tomorrow.”

He doesn’t grab her arm. Doesn’t halt her, so she takes that as permission. She barely makes it up the step before his voice halts her again, lower now, silk-wrapped iron: “Let me show you.”

She holds the key in the knob, but doesn’t turn. “Show me what?”

“What it should be. A date. Not a sloppy imitation done by the likes of boys named Trevor.”

Bonnie glances at him over her shoulder, trying to decide if he’s actually serious. He is. Of course he is. His expression is maddeningly sincere, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that feels a little too close to temptation.

“You want to take me on a date?”

“Not a real one,” he clarifies. “A demonstration. A model. One you can hold up against future offers and reject them accordingly.”

She sighs, turning the key. Honestly, she doesn’t have the energy for this. “You’re doing this to mock me.”

“I’m doing this,” Klaus says smoothly, “because it is offensive to the very concept of courtship that someone like you doesn’t know what it should feel like.”

“Goodnight, Klaus.” She steps through, closing the door behind her. She locks it for good measure.

He doesn’t follow. Doesn’t press. Which, in hindsight, should’ve been the first clue.

The next evening, Bonnie lights a candle on her nightstand, just like Grams taught her. Mugwort and bay for clarity, lavender to soothe. She’s in an oversized Metallica T-shirt, hair twisted up, just beginning to cue up an old episode of Criminal Minds when she feels it—the subtle flex of power against her magic.

There’s a knock.

Polite, for once. Which is exactly why it unnerves her.

She debates on ignoring it.

She’s already sent him her blood, cast the spell—a simple binding on a grimoire—preventing anyone but him (and oddly, herself) from opening it.

He knocks again. Three short, evenly spaced raps.

Bonnie sighs, blowing a curl from her eyes and opens the door. She’s tempted to tell him that she’s going to start charging by the hour. He can afford it. But all of her snark dies in her throat the moment she sees him.

Klaus stands on her porch in tailored dark clothes—not quite a suit, but deliberate. Dark slacks, a crisp open collar, sleeves rolled to the forearm. In his hands: a lush bouquet of dusky red peonies and soft white jasmine. They smell like twilight and stolen things.

“I said no,” Bonnie says automatically, though it lacks any heat.

He tilts his head. “Odd. I didn’t hear ‘no’. I heard: ‘Goodnight, Klaus.’”

He’s technically correct, which is her least favorite kind of correct. She’s about to tell him no, in no uncertain terms, when he continues.

“I’m already here, love. Terrible form to deny me now.” He holds the flowers toward her.

They are gorgeous, full, flawless blooms and rich heady scent. It’s the first time anyone has ever gotten her any.

She should toss them into the bin.

Instead, she takes them with a muttered, “You’re insufferable.”

He grins. “Still not a no.”

”You’re not going to let this go are you?”

He doesn’t respond, but it’s on his face.

Bonnie shakes her head. “Fine. Wait here.” She’s not about to invite him in.

When she returns, it’s in a cream-colored blouse edged in lace, tucked into a flowy patterned skirt that swirls when she walks. Her hair is down, loose, natural, around her shoulders. She doesn’t bother with make-up or jewelry.

This isn’t really a date.

It’s a lesson.

She’ll treat it as such.

Which turns out to be harder than it sounds.

Because when Klaus sees her—his expression shifts. Not his usual appraising calculation—something quieter. A little softer. Like the sight of her in moonlight and lace might actually be beautiful.

“Ready?” he asks, voice dipped low.

Bonnie inhales and exhales a deep breath. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He offers his arm.

She doesn’t take it—not at first—but then he cocks his head, eyebrow raised in challenge.

She tosses him a look, but links her elbow through his, annoyed at how natural it feels. The scent of his cologne is faint—spiced woods and something wilder. She breathes it in before she can stop herself.

She expects a car, chandeliers, a compelled maître d’. Something grotesquely extravagant, probably featuring a string quartet and gold utensils. Something that shows how unlimited his influence actually is. A show of arrogance.

So she’s surprised when Klaus walks her two blocks down the street, cutting across a small wooden bridge near the edge of town. He leads her through a narrow, pebbled trail behind the old library. When the path opens up, her breath catches.

It’s a clearing tucked beneath a canopy of weeping willows, their branches sweeping low and silver in the moonlight. It smells like crushed herbs, clean earth, and something sweet—berries, maybe. Or honey.

The grass is soft and wild, the ground scattered with dandelions and moss. In the center is a picnic blanket—thick, deep red, clean despite the earth—and set atop it are small lanterns glowing like fireflies.

On the blanket: fresh bread, a jar of dark jam, cold chicken sliced and wrapped neatly in wax paper. Cheese. Tiny peaches. A bottle of wine, no label, no cork—sealed with wax.

Bonnie stops short.

Klaus watches her reaction the way a painter watches a canvas take color. “The Grill is beneath you,” is all he says.

She really doesn’t know what to say to that so she keeps her silence.

He holds her hand as she lowers herself to the blanket—keeping her steady. After that it’s a handful of small things that ripple through the night.

He pours the wine for her. Offers a cloth napkin. Cuts the peach with the knife she was eyeing but didn’t want to reach for.

“This,” Klaus murmurs, handing her the fruit, “is only one form of appreciation.”

“Food as appreciation? I can see that,” she says, biting into a slice.

He hums. “Most people don’t.”

She hates that she kind of agrees with him. Most people overlook the little gestures.

They eat slowly. The chicken is seasoned with something fragrant—rosemary or maybe thyme. The bread is soft. The cheese, sharp. Bonnie lets herself enjoy it, a little. She hasn’t had a meal that hadn’t involved a microwave in longer than she can remember.

When they talk, it’s not about the usual things. No magic. No threats. No blood.

Klaus tells her about Florence in the 1500s and how Italian peaches used to be bitter until witches started grafting sweetness into the skin. She listens in spite of herself. Finds his occasional biting commentary both snobbish and amusing.

She thinks, briefly, he looks almost human like this.

So when he asks, “What do you think about?”

She answers.

Maybe because it’s not real.

There’s no pressure to perform. No masks to wear. No expectations to meet.

She doesn’t have to be the strong one for him. The one who doesn’t ask—who gives.

She tells him about Grams. About how quiet the kitchen feels now and how sometimes, the smell of jasmine makes her cry without knowing why. She tells him that she used to dream of traveling the world, but now she just dreams of finding a small place in it.

He listens. Like she’s the only thing that matters.

And that, more than anything, is what undoes her.

Not the wine. Not the food. Not even the way the moonlight threads silver through his lashes.

It’s that he sees her. And seems to like what he sees.

She doesn’t trust it.

But, for tonight, for this moment, she lets herself have it.

By the time he walks her back into town, the moon is low and the shadows are long. The wine has left her warm. Drowsy.

He doesn’t leave her at the curb. He walks her all the way to her porch.

“Well,” she says, clearing her throat. “Thanks for the fake date.”

Klaus arches a brow. “Fake?”

“I mean—model. Example? Lesson.” She settles on.

His eyes gleam. “The night’s not over,” he tells her, stepping forward, just close enough for her to feel the heat of him. “And for clarification—this part,” he says, voice velvet-dark, “is very real.”

He leans in, slow and deliberate. And he kisses her.

Not a demand. Not a possession. Just a touch—warm, slow, reverent.

Like she’s something precious.

Like he’s tasting the possibility of something he hasn’t dared name.

And Bonnie…Bonnie lets him.

For a second too long, maybe. Or maybe just long enough.

He tastes like peaches and wine.

When she finally pulls back, it’s not with a slap or a spell or even a warning.

It’s with a soft exhale. A breath they both feel.

She opens her eyes, and he’s still watching her—closely. Carefully.

His expression isn’t smug. It isn’t triumphant. It’s something… else. Almost hesitant. Like he was expecting the slap or the spell.

A heartbeat passes, then another, and finally he whispers, “Goodnight, Bonnie,” quiet and sure.

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t trust her voice.

Just steps back through the door and closes it quietly. She doesn’t lock it.

[ferigrievous]

attractive things they do ; haikyuu ver . ⋆˚࿔

bokuto ; doesnt know personal space or manners when it comes to you. will wave to you in the middle of a test if he sees you passing in the hallway, or will yell your name if he spots you in the cafeteria. doesn’t matter if you saw each other five minutes ago, he still greets you like you’ve been gone a year.

akaashi ; has crazy fast reflexes. despite not being as muscular as bokuto, he still never wavers whenever he catches something, as seen when he caught him after he fainted. you dont even notice you dropped something before he’s handing it back to you.

aone ; waits for you to finish talking. never cuts people off, even when they’re rambling or slow. he’ll just nod and look at you like everything you say matters. he also doesnt stutter, and takes his time to speak. you dont mind it when people stutter, but you convince yourself its because he wants to think out every word he says (to you).

futakuchi ; worst teaser to walk the earth. says “yeah? and what if i did?” and “are ya’ gonna do something about it.” more than he sees his own mother. never oversteps, and knows what specifically to not bring up, but he knows you’ll always do something about it.

koganegawa ; says everything out loud. narrates his entire life and lets people know how he’s thinking, or what he’s doing. you usually find this annoying when other people do it, but somehow hes just funny and oblivious enough for it to cancel out.

ukai ; always smells good. could smoke up a whole room and down a whole bottle of whisky in an afternoon and he’d still smell good. you can smell him even after he’s left a room, but sometimes you think its just a placebo effect. you notice whenever its missing.

takeda ; watches the credit scenes of a movie. will clap, and will talk to other people about it like its just another thing. when people ask why, he says its because ‘someone worked hard on this!’ applies to other things too, but something as small as this gets you everytime.

kiyoko ; remembers everything you say. not in a creepy way, just in a soft, careful way. the kind of person who brings up something you forgot you even told her. you’ll offhandedly mention your favorite flower and a week later she’ll give you one.

yachi ; double checks everything. did you bring your coat? do you have your wallet and keys? did you do the homework?  she’s on it. says “just in case!” with this big worried smile like she can’t help it.

alisa ; takes the best pictures. most of her pictures are candid, ones you think are ugly but she’ll cherish like its made of pure gold. she rarely asks you to pose for a picture, but she always makes sure you look good. you almost never notice when she has her camera out until she tags you in a post later that night.

akane ; always has two extra hair ties. you never notice, because she always has her hair up, until alisa asks for it and you ask her why she has so many. she doesnt answer you, but you find out its because no one ever had hairties strong enough to hold her hair properly, so she makes sure no one else has that problem. not that youlll ever let her know you know this, of course.

konoha ; mimics people without realizing. picks up their slang, their hand gestures, the way they write their &s and ?s. whenever someone brings it up, he pretends not to notice because he’s too embarrassed. 

terushima ; stupidly smart. you hate it, how he’s not a high honors student, but a highest honors student, and has been for years. you never see him study, never see him struggle, and never even hear him talk about school outside of class, but he’s never had anything lower than a 90 on anything.

daisho ; always knows what you mean. when you’re struggling with words, he knows exactly what youre going to say before you even think of it. you usually hate it when other people do it because theyre almost always wrong, but he somehow knows what you mean every single time.

sakusa ; walks on the outside of the sidewalk. doesnt care about the sidewalk rule, doesnt care if the person/people hes walking with are 10x stronger and bigger than him. doesnt mention it, does it naturally, and if you purposely switch it, he’ll switch it back without you even noticing.

komori ; makes a big deal about small wins. big believer in ‘a little is better than nothing’. even if its something as simple like doing your bed or doing the dishes, he’ll grin and congratulate you anyway.

[andielle]

prologue|chpt. 1|chpt. 2|masterlist

You were born with powerful, photographic memories. A blessing, because you did amazing things in life. A curse, because you remembered every single inch of your parents' faces when they died. Meanwhile, you got to know Mark Grayson in college, he doesn't know who you really are, but you know him—you know him as Invincible, the 'hero' that caused your parents to die. What happens when you take comfort in the person that caused you grief?

chapter 1: therapy | 0.6k words | warnings: vivid depictions of violence

SEVEN MONTHS AGO, THE DESTRUCTION OF CHICAGO

YOU desperately pumped at your mum’s chest, trying to get her to wake, even for a minute. People screamed around you, and some watched, as you were pathetically crying and pumping with all of your strength, trying to resuscitate her. But all you ended up doing was get more red on your hands. 

You looked behind yourself to see an injured Invincible standing amidst the chaos. His costume was tattered, tainted with blood. His right goggle was shattered, exposing his eye, and for a moment, you could piece together what he really looked like behind that mask.

With a gust of wind, he was gone. You hear a building collapse, and you were quickly grabbed away by a passerby.

—

CURRENT TIME

“I saw him yesterday,”

“Who did you see?”

“Invincible,” you revealed, “but he wasn’t in costume.”

The woman sitting in front of you uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Did you interact with him?”

The woman was Jean, your therapist for months now.

Ever since the incident, you started staying with your grandparents. It was really bad, you would hear news after news, about Chicago. You would feel sick to your stomach whenever you heard about the countless lives taken away. The train… The collapsed buildings… It was a disaster.

Your grandparents stopped watching the news for a while, and it slowly got you better. However, they felt that it was best that you got weekly therapy sessions, so here you were. But your night terrors never stopped, sometimes your screams could be heard from houses away.

That was back then though, the nightmares continued and you still got visions of your parents, but it was better than before. Jean helped you to cope.

“I did, he was introduced to me by a friend. But,” you looked at Jean before looking down again, “I expected myself to feel angry, or break down right there even. But he was just a normal guy—I don’t know,” you admitted.

“The last time I saw him, he was in costume—so seeing him out of it, it was like it was a separate identity,” you rambled, hoping that you made some sense.

“Sometimes it's hard to believe that superheroes do lead normal lives when they’re not wearing the costume,” Jean said, understanding. “What did you feel when you talked to him?”

“Well, a part of me felt bad,” Jean looked a bit surprised at your statement.

“He really is just a normal guy out of the suit,” you continued, “His father beat the shit out of him, went missing, and left him with the lives of many people taken away. I just wonder if he’s just like me—constantly mourning and constantly miserable.”

For a moment, both of you were silent.

You had no idea what was going through Jean’s head. But it was true that you were curious about Mark. You wondered how Amber and him came to be; if he was genuine; if he really was your average Joe out of the costume, away from the danger?

“If you’re comfortable, you could try to befriend him—you know, something casual. Maybe it could give you closure,” Jean broke the silence. “Just be careful, you know how dangerous it can be to be affiliated with superheroes."

As much as the idea felt weird, she did have a point. Maybe it really would give you closure, if you knew what Mark went through. You both might even have gone through a lot of similar things, have similar interests. But still, befriending the Invincible? That's if you even see him again—but knowing his superhero identity, he would be too busy to make new friends.

You took it into consideration nonetheless.

[mr-payjay]

i am making my own ii human names list, but very slowly, because i am pedantic. also, i will not be counting mephone creating them as canon. ive had these ethnicity and family hcs for ages, and i will base my names on them. now, here are the two most important names.

OJ: Olivier-Jean "OJ" Jacques Silveira. my oj interpretation/gijinka is brazilian (paternal side) and ivorian (maternal side). his last name comes from his father and is brazilian portuguese. his first name and middle name were given by his mother, as many people in côte d'ivoire speak french (french colonization —> it's the official language now but there's MANY others accompanying it). a lot of people who speak french like to use "jean" in hyphenated names (trust me ive met a bajillion of them), so i included it. i think his name sounds quite classy.

oj was born and raised in america, speaking english at school and french at home. as well as some portuguese, but he never actually learned it. i think he would become quite pissy when kids at school would pronounce his name incorrectly (Olivier-Jean is... very not intuitive to english speakers. i believe they would say it like Oliver-Jeen) so they ended up using oj as shorthand. and he was fine with that, so it stuck. but at home he's Olivier and Olivier-Jean. he tells new people he meets to call him oj just because it's consistent and because he doesn't like the sound of his real name being mispronounced. coming from someone who constantly gets her real names mispronounced.

Paper: Paige Hsu (foreign name) and 许佩妍 / Xǔ Pèiyán (original name). my paper interpretation/gijinka is han taiwanese, so fully of han chinese descent. more specifically, hoklo (chosen because i hc he can speak mandarin AND hokkien). his family immigrated to taiwan from fujian (province in china with hoklo ancestry) post ww2. Xǔ is a particularly common surname in fujian, so i chose it for him. be gentle with me if i messed up with his given name LOL i know much less about chinese than french (but DO inform me if you know more about it and spot any mistakes!). Pèiyán means, in a way, beautiful garment. to wear something beautiful. to be adorned. etc. it's partially based on trying to make it seem a bit like the name "Paige", partially based on what i think his mother might name him (no real hopes or dreams for him so it's a little shallow), partially based on him as i know him (focused on presenting himself). it's also, as far as i know, a name mostly used for women. note that my interpretation of paper is usually a trans man.

now, Paige is unisex, it sounds like page, and it's a loved one of mine's favourite name for him, so i like it. i also think it makes sense for when he immigrated to canada with his mother as something they chose, and something he can still keep (being conveniently unisex). Hsu is one of the taiwanese romanizations for Xǔ. im not sure if he'd take on oj's last name. perhaps he'd hyphenate them. he's not particularly attached to his family, but Paige Hsu is quite a pretty name.

bonus: nickel is named Nikola Stević. this one was easy because my interpretation of nickel is kosovar serb. last names come from the father but the exact practice of it is a bit outdated so Stević is likely from his grandfather or great-grandfather (unless im misremembering how it works). i don't like the name Nicholas his name is Nikola. Nicholas sounds like a sweet little boy Nikola sounds like a menace. i see Nicholas everywhere start calling your nickel Nikola

[bleaksqueak]

see, ppl can say what they want about the resi 3 remake, but the remake got Mikhail perfect. Also i actually really love weird Puppy Nemesis lmao

[haarute]

it's amazing how almost all of my friendships (and by almost all i mean Every save like three) are ruined by my own self essentially swerving into a wall and crashing on purpose due to my inability to believe my company could ever be even slightly desirable to anyone and i'd rather just burn it all and die than see myself as someone who intrudes and abuses people's kindness out of my own selfish desire to want companionship.

[isca-rambles]

Lucy Chen is the love of Tim Bradford's life and Angela Lopez agrees!

[blizzardfluffykpop]

You sent me an ask so I shall return the favor! What is the most recent Kpop group you’ve gotten into and how did you find out about them? I always love hearing fan “origin stories” lol

Thank you for returning the favor~ That would be The Boyz 🥰💖 I love hearing fan "origin stories" too hehe (This is gonna get long I love them sm)

Anyways I've known about them since debut? I loved Bloom Bloom Pow with my whole heart when it came out and tried to fall for them then- It didn't work. The next time was when The Stealer (TS) came out~ I had watched them perform for Road to Kingdom- because ptg was on the show too- But I really loved TS cb- sm so that I bought the album about 6 mos later with my favorite members as inclusions at the time (Eric, Kevin and Hyunjae). But nothing came about of it even after watching the weekly idol episodes... Then came Whisper era and I ended up biasing Changmin (Q) and loving that song but again nothing came out of it.

(A little backstory is that Changkyun (I.M) got me into Dominic Fike's music-) Thus, when tiktok showed me Juyeon, Changmin, and Sunwoo dancing to Babydoll earlier this year as a dance cover: I fell. And then I finally checked out Watch It~ But Hui had his solo and it distracted me completely from falling further. Then I had gotten sick and decided 'well, what if I watch their content?' And I did... I watched their hello82 interview and their reaction to fanart of them, and lastly their mafia dance. And I loved each sm that I decided to check out more.

It was the first time I had watched their content and wanted to see more. And now, I watch their content almost daily. It's kind of like they revived the joy of kpop for me? My (old) ult of ults has been on hiatus due to the military so it's been stagnant content lately for me. But then they came in like a breath of fresh air- and I simply can't get enough. This month will be 3 mos and I honestly hope I'll follow them for a long time. (I think they're my new ult of ults tbh)

And lastly now here I am as a Younghoon and Juyeon bias (with bias wrecker: Changmin... he's doing everything to be bias again). And with them having a comeback I loved with my whole heart this past month, I think it really solidified them with me. Honestly, I'm so happy with them.

[todayisafridaynight]

Ichiban looks like a beautiful lady ☺️

real and true

[thegempage]

me in the first couple of months after moving, reassuring myself that things always get worse before they get better: hurting is the first step to healing!

me, a year and a month after the move, undeniably happier than i've been in over a decade and yet watching as each one of my maladaptive coping mechanisms falls apart in my hands, leaving me not only without any beneficial, long-term-appropriate coping mechanisms ready on-hand to replace them but also with the ever-growing sense that there is more wrong with me than i ever knew hiding underneath layers of masks and trauma responses: oh so i didn't know fuck or shit

[burntchickenlookingass]

No cuz im not done talking about ffcc

[seonghwaddict]

save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[kira-ani-mcgrath]

5 minutes from my life:

There needs to be like a dating site/app but for finding friends. > There probably already is, I should just search it. > Oh there's a billion of them. > This one doesn't exist any more even though this list is supposedly from January 2024. This one only has very broad and non-applicable interests to choose from. > This is overwhelming. Never mind.

[poguehearted77]

Bubblegum Ballerina

Pairing: Dental Student! Reader x Single Dad! Rafe

Summary: Spring rolls around with new beginnings, starting with a new placement for you in a pediatric dentist's office and meeting a patient's handsome (and single) dad.

Just some headcanons unless it should be a full-fic??

Single Dad! Rafe would bring his five-year-old daughter Ella to the dentist ten minutes early because he hates being late and knows that his little girl would do anything to try and stop him from taking her because she hates the dentist. She once even hid his shoes just so she wouldn't have to go.

Single Dad! Rafe would immediately lean over the counter and whisper to the familiar receptionist he'd seen for years, asking about you the second you whisked Ella away and out of sight.

Ballerina! Ella would ramble in her chair to you about her upcoming ballet performance and how her daddy bought her a new tutu because he tells her she's the best ballerina ever.

Dental Student! Reader could listen to Ella's cute stories and pink passion projects for hours but when the dentist entered and it came time to start her cleaning Ella immediately started to fuss, squirming and refusing to open her mouth.

Dental Student! Reader would do her very best to keep Ella relaxed, offering to hold her hand and telling her stories about magical ballerina's that got to dance with fairies as a treat for going to the dentist and staying calm.

Ballerina! Ella hated the mint-flavoured polish and always asked if they had the bubblegum flavour after trying it once and now refuses to have anything else.

Single Dad! Rafe lights up when he sees his daughter running to him with a clean bright smile and a goody-bag that she says you helped pick out for her, making sure everything is extra awesome like she is.

Single Dad! Rafe who nearly trips over his words when he finally gets to speak to you about how everything went, hoping that she wasn't too much to handle, showing that he's well aware of his daughter's anti-dentist antics. He's both happy and sad to hear that Ella has a small cavity, but the joy creeps in when he realizes he gets to see you again soon.

Dental Student! Reader scans Rafe's hands looking for any signs of a ring or implications of a Mrs. Cameron and she's not as subtle as she thought she was when Rafe grins and waves his left hand to regain her attention (but actually to show the lack of a wedding band)

Ballerina! Ella who begs reader to come to her ballet performance so that she can see the new tutu her daddy bought her and watch her dance. Rafe immediately apologizes for her outbursts and insinuates that you're a very busy person but you accept without thinking.

Single Dad! Rafe brings two bouquets of flowers to the recital, one for you and one for his little ballerina who ran off to show all her friends the flowers her daddy got her. Leaving the two of you to talk and address the budding romance between you.

- nsfw! Rafe who hasn't fucked anyone since the divorce struggling to hold himself together when he sinks his cock into you for the first time. Leaning down to whisper filthy praises into your ear.

- Further down the line when things get more serious, the two of you would get a secret kick out of sneaking away from Ella's friends' exhausting birthdays for a quickie in the back of Rafe's truck parked 2 blocks away, reappearing just in time for the candles.

- Single Dad! Rafe who has a tiny little breeding kink and gets hard anytime he thinks about filling your stomach with his cum and knocking you up with his baby. "You'd look so perfect walkin' around the house--tits all big n' swollen, belly round with our baby. Whaddya' think? Hm? You want that for yourself? Wanna be my good little housewife that takes care of our child while I'm at work before I come home n' take care of you?"

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 22: June 2024 - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

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

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

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

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent. Apparently I am once again messing up my chapter numbering on Tumblr. 21 is correct according to AO3 and Wattpad though. No, you didn't miss anything, I promise.

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

Text Messages: Gianpiero Lambiase & Max Verstappen

GP: Heard about the post-race press. Are you and Belle okay?

Max: I’m fine. Belle’s shaken. Tired. But she’s okay. (ish.)

GP: “Okay-ish” isn’t exactly reassuring, mate.

Max: She’s stronger than she thinks. But it hit her hard. Even after everything… she still hoped they’d see her.

GP: That’s the cruel part. Hope.

Max: Yeah.

GP: Is she at home? You with her?

Max: I am. 

Max: Doesn’t feel like enough.

GP: It’s enough. You’re there. You see her. That’s already more than most have ever done.

Max: She deserves better than this.

GP: She’s got it now. She’s got you.

GP: (and the cats.)

Max: True. Jimmy thinks he’s her bodyguard.

GP: Smart cat.

GP: Tell her we’re all thinking about her, yeah?

Max: I will. Thanks, GP. For checking in.

GP: Always. She’s part of the team now. Whether she likes it or not.

***

The breakfast table was too quiet.

A spread of croissants, jam, fresh fruit, and espresso cups sat untouched in the center of the table—untouched because no one could eat. Lorenzo’s revelation from the day before hung in the air like a thundercloud.

Isabelle had quit her job.

 Months ago.

 Without telling a single one of them.

Charles still hadn’t wrapped his head around it. Isabelle had always loved her work. She breathed design. She stayed up late sketching, doodling floor plans on napkins, whispering ideas into voice memos when she thought no one was listening.

And then one day… she just walked away from it. From them.

Arthur sat with his head in his hands, looking half-murdered by guilt. Pascale was pale and tight-lipped, stirring her tea without drinking it.

“I don’t understand,” Pascale whispered. “How could she just… leave her job? She worked so hard for it.”

“She didn’t just leave,” Lorenzo said, pacing. “She ghosted the entire office. Packed her things in one night. Sent a polite goodbye email. Nothing else.”

“And no one noticed?” Arthur asked, stunned.

“No one bothered to notice,” Charles muttered.

Pascale looked toward Alexandra. “Did you know anything?”

Alexandra hesitated, then straightened a little. “She’s safe.”

That got everyone’s attention.

Charles’s head snapped toward her. “What?”

“I texted Emilie,” Alexandra said, calm but firm. “Isabelle’s best friend. She replied this morning. Said Isabelle is okay.”

A collective breath was held—and slowly released.

“Why didn’t you say that sooner?” Pascale asked, eyes wide.

“Because you were all too busy spiraling,” Alexandra said. “And because Emilie was clear: Isabelle doesn’t want to talk to any of you right now.”

Charles swallowed hard.

“She’s mad,” he said. “Of course she’s mad.”

“She’s not mad,” Alexandra said. “She’s hurt. She’s done. There’s a difference.”

Lorenzo closed his eyes. Arthur muttered something under his breath.

Then Alexandra added, almost absently, “She’s not alone. Emilie said her boyfriend likes taking care of her.”

A beat of stunned silence.

“Oh my god,” Arthur muttered. “She has a sugar daddy.”

Charlotte choked on her orange juice.

Pascale actually dropped her spoon.

“Arthur!” Alexandra hissed, scandalized.

Arthur looked wildly between them. “Think about it! Moved out. Quit her job. No one knows where she is. Isabelle’s always been quiet, not mysterious. What if she—”

“No. No,” Charles said quickly, shaking his head like that would erase the words from the room. “She wouldn’t. Isabelle is not like that.”

“People change when they feel abandoned,” Arthur muttered, clearly spiraling now. “This is how Netflix documentaries start.”

“I will kill whoever that man is,” Charles muttered, eyes narrowing like he was already imagining chasing someone through the Monaco harbor with a champagne bottle.

“I’m just saying,” Arthur hissed, “stranger things have happened! And let’s not pretend we’re not a family of unresolved emotional issues. We all have daddy issues!”

A beat of stunned silence.

Then Pascale, horror dawning on her face, said, “Excuse me?!”

Arthur looked up, mid-sip of juice. “What?”

Pascale blinked, stunned. “Since when?!”

Arthur just stared at her. “I mean, come on. Dad died when we were kids, Charles is out here trying to win his approval from the afterlife, I started karting again like I have something to prove, and Isabelle— Isabelle moved in with a mysterious man and quit her job because he "likes taking care of her!"

“Oh my God,” Pascale said faintly, sinking into her chair.

“Okay, this is going off the rails,” Alexandra groaned.

Lorenzo pinched the bridge of his nose. “Arthur, this is not about your unresolved need for paternal validation.”

Arthur shrugged helplessly. “I was just trying to explain that maybe Isabelle was looking for emotional stability and someone gave it to her. And maybe he also had a good skincare routine and a yacht. I don’t know.”

“She moved in with her boyfriend,” Lorenzo said sharply. “Not a sugar daddy. Her boyfriend. That’s what her old neighbor said. She left the firm. Left her apartment. But she didn’t run away. She just stopped waiting to be seen.”

Arthur groaned, slumping in his seat. “We didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.”

“Because she didn’t tell us,” Charles said bitterly. “Because she stopped expecting us to care.”

“Or because she knew you were going to freak out.” Charlotte murmured.

Charles raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

Charlotte looked up, startled. “What?”

“You said that like you know something.”

Charlotte hesitated. “I don’t know anything.”

“Charlotte,” Lorenzo warned.

She shifted. “It’s just—she’s always been around racing. She used to hang around the paddock all the time. If she was seeing someone, I wouldn’t be shocked if it was someone from the grid.”

Silence.

Then Arthur: “Wait. You’re saying she could be dating someone we know?”

Charlotte winced. “I said maybe. Don’t start spiraling.”

“I’M ALREADY SPIRALING,” Charles announced.

Alexandra sighed, sipping her coffee. “And now we’ve entered the panic phase.”

Arthur leaned back, muttering, “If it’s Fernando I swear to God—”

Pascale clapped her hands together. “Enough.”

But Charles barely heard her.

Because if Belle was dating someone from the paddock…

Then there were nineteen men it could be, currently on the grid.

And not one of them had said a word.

***

Group Chat: GRID 2024 

Members: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr., Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Logan Sergeant, Daniel Ricciardo, Nico Hülkenberg, Lance Stroll, Fernando Alonso, Sergio Pérez, Esteban Ocon, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sargeant, Pierre Gasly, Yuki Tsunoda, and Valtteri Bottas

Charles: SOMEONE TELL ME

 Who is dating my sister??

Charles: IS IT FERNANDO?? Are you her sugar daddy?? Just tell me. I need answers.

Fernando: Pardon?

Lewis: Oh we’re doing this.

George: Charles, breathe.

Oscar: You’re spiraling. Please stop.

Pierre: Wait WHAT??

Yuki: I feel like I’ve walked into the last five minutes of a telenovela

Fernando: Charles. I’m flattered. But no.

Charles: OK FINE. MAX. Charles:  IS SHE DATING JOS?!

Logan: …bro

George: I need to leave this chat forever

Lando: oh my god

Max: What. Did. You. Just. Say.

Charles: I don’t know, okay?? Everyone’s being weird. She’s gone, she moved, she quit her job, no one’s telling me anything and YOU’RE ALL BEING WEIRD.

Max: Don’t you ever say something like that again.

Max: Not as a joke. Not out of panic. Not ever.

Max: Belle is your sister, Charles. She deserved your attention, your support, your respect—and she didn’t get any of it. Max: And now you want to cover up your guilt by making a disgusting joke like that?

George: Whoa.

Charles: It’s not a joke! She smiled at him during Monaco!

Max: You forgot her birthday. You forgot her entire life outside of your world. And now you’re so desperate to catch up you’re throwing shit against the wall like it doesn’t have consequences?

Oscar: He’s right. That was low, man.

Lando: Way out of line.

Max:  You’re panicking and flinging names around like this is a soap opera, and you’re forgetting that this isn’t about you.

Carlos: He’s right.

Max: Belle isn’t your property. She doesn’t owe you updates of her life. And the fact that your first instinct is to accuse my father of something that insane? That tells me everything I need to know about where your priorities are.

Max: You’re not trying to protect her. You’re trying to control the fallout of your own guilt.

Alex: Oof.

Oscar: He’s not wrong.

Lando: I mean, he’s definitely not wrong.

Daniel: That was… surgical.

Max: You forgot her birthday. You didn’t realise she moved or that she quit her job. And now that it’s all blowing up in your face, you’re treating your sister like a scandal to manage instead of a woman who deserves better than you’ve given her for years.

Charles: Max…

Max Verstappen: Don’t. You had every chance to show up. And you didn’t.

Oscar: …Well. That was the cleanest emotional takedown I’ve ever witnessed.

Pierre: I’m afraid to even type right now.

Alex: Respectfully, that needed to be said.

Lewis: Sometimes silence is the most respectful response. And sometimes it’s watching Max drop a nuke and sipping your tea.

Charles: … I’m sorry.

Max: Don’t say sorry to me. Say it to her.

Daniel: And maybe do it without accusing her of having a sugar daddy next time.

Fernando: Sincerely never thought I’d be defending Jos Verstappen’s honor in a group chat. And yet. Here we are.

Pierre: Did we all just witness character development in real time?

Oscar:  No, we witnessed Max finally snap.

Carlos: Honestly? Fair.

Max: Now if you’ll excuse me, my wife wants to go see her horse. 

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

 (Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hulkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sergeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll and Valtteri Bottas)

Oscar: (sends screenshots) Are we gonna talk about that??

Lando: I don’t think I’ll ever emotionally recover.

George: That wasn’t an argument. That was Max opening a precision-cut emotional autopsy on Charles.

Daniel: Surgical strike. Zero survivors.

Carlos: I think I stopped breathing somewhere between “not your property” and “scandal to manage.”

Alex: And he still managed to slip in “my wife” at the end like it was casual.

Lewis: Subtle as a sledgehammer. Iconic.

Sebastian: Imagine standing that close to the truth and just completely going off the deep end. JOS VERSTAPPEN?!?!

David: Charles is lucky we’re not recording this for Drive to Survive. This would be season finale material.

Fernando: Still recovering from the fact that I had to defend Jos Verstappen’s honor today. Truly humbling times.

Mark: Also Max casually confirming "wife" like we didn’t hear that bomb drop.

Lando: The whole chat: staring at “my wife” like: [INSERT SHOCKED PIKACHU MEME]

Logan: Also Max: anyway gtg horseback riding with Belle bye

George: Meanwhile we’re left here emotionally blinking like stunned goldfish.

Zhou: Respectfully? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in a group chat.

Logan: He read Charles’ whole life like it was a menu.

Esteban: No crumbs left. Truly an artist.

Lewis: I hope Belle gives Max a damn medal.

Carlos: It’s what he deserves.

Lando Norris: At this point Max could straight up declare war on Monaco and all of us would follow him.

Nico H.: Only if Belle asks nicely though.

Fernando: Honestly, after that? She deserves her own Grand Prix.

Sebastian: Belle Verstappen GP. Street circuit. Emotional trauma bonus points.

David: Winner gets emotional literacy and a free hug.

Lando: Charles gets last place. Obv.

Oscar: Someone check on Charles, though. Like... at a distance. With caution.

George: Give him a juice box and a reflective corner.

Lewis: He needs to sit with this one. You’re up, Seb.

Sebastian: I hate you.

Carlos: And next time?  Maybe start by actually listening to Belle. and not accuse her of having a sugar daddy.

Oscar: Can we also talk about how Charles accused Fernando of being Belle’s sugar daddy?!?

Lando: No because I actually SCREAMED when I read it Out loud. In a public place.

George: Charles really said “if the unhinged shoe fits…”

Lewis: Fernando being asked if he’s the sugar daddy of a 25-year-old woman live in a chat is peak 2024.

Daniel: The best part is Fernando didn’t even deny it immediately. He said “pardon” like a man trying to calculate if this was a compliment or an insult.

Fernando: I was genuinely weighing my options.

Logan: He 100% thought about it for a second Did the math in his head Age difference analysis

Carlos: He pulled out a mental calculator before answering.

Alex: Plot twist: he was flattered.

Fernando: I am flattered.

Logan: ARE YOU NOT TOO OLD FOR THIS SIR

Fernando: Age is just a number. Experience is a blessing.

David: Shut up you're scaring the children

Daniel: I'm crying. This man is two bad decisions away from opening a luxury wine bar in Marbella.

Zhou: Would 100% attend Fernando’s shady rich sugar daddy wine parties tbh.

George: You know somewhere there's an alternate universe where Fernando is soft-launching Belle on Instagram with a blurry wine glass and a cryptic caption.

Sebastian: Don’t manifest that energy.

Lewis: The timeline barely survived Charles forgetting her birthday We are NOT surviving "Fernando Alonso soft launches Belle Verstappen."

Oscar: Good morning to everyone except Charles for inventing this nightmare.

Carlos: He should be banned from texting before noon.

Daniel: Imagine Belle reading that conversation The secondhand embarrassment would kill her instantly

Lando: Max would bury Charles under the Red Bull Energy Station if Belle found out

Fernando: That’s why I stayed calm. For everyone’s safety.

David: You’re a better man than I am.

George: Let’s be honest Max’s entire speech wasn’t just a takedown It was a warning.

Lewis: And Charles still doesn’t realize how close he was to emotional decapitation.

Daniel: Fernando being accidentally involved will forever be my Roman Empire

Lando: Same. Sugar Daddy Alonso 2024 Never Forget.

Kimi: I don’t care.

Fernando: Good. One sane man among us.

Mark: Honestly Kimi deserves a medal for surviving this chat with brain cells intact.

Lando: Meanwhile I’m Googling “how to recover from emotional whiplash" and "can you sue your friend for public embarrassment.”

Oscar: Suing Charles for pain and suffering. Class action.

Lewis: Count me in.

Daniel: Put me down for emotional damages and lost productivity.

Carlos: And mental anguish from hearing "Jos" and "sugar daddy" in the same sentence.

George Russell: I’m still trying to bleach my brain from that.

Sebastian Vettel: The worst part is… We know it’s only going to get worse.

Valtteri: Spain is going to be the emotional equivalent of a demolition derby and I'm here for it…

Oscar: Prayers up for Charles. He’s about to get hit with the reality sledgehammer.

***

The air smelled like sun-warmed hay and old wood and something softer — something Max couldn’t name but recognized instantly as peace.

The stables weren’t far from the city — a quiet, tucked-away stretch of land up in the hills — but it might as well have been another world compared to the chaos vibrating through the paddock, the media, the group chats.

Belle was already a few steps ahead of him, moving with easy, instinctive confidence down the center aisle. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and she wore one of his oversized hoodies over her jeans, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Even in battered sneakers, even in dusty sunlight, she looked luminous.

This, Max thought, is who she really is.

Not the invisible sister standing silently in the Ferrari garage.

 Not the afterthought.

 Not the forgotten one.

Here, among the horses and the golden dust motes, Belle was someone else entirely. Someone free.

He watched as she reached Fleur’s stall — the mare with the soft eyes and white coat — and the change in her was immediate. Belle’s whole body softened. Her voice dropped into something low and sweet, barely a whisper, as she murmured to the horse in French, offering a gentle hand.

Fleur pressed her nose into Belle’s palm like she had been waiting for her all day.

Max stayed back, leaning against a beam, just… watching.

Belle ran her fingers through the mare’s mane, smiling quietly when Fleur nosed into her ribs for a treat. She laughed, soft and breathless, pulling a carrot from her pocket like she’d always known it would be needed.

Max felt something hot coil under his ribs.

Not anger. Not yet.

Something heavier.

Because standing there, watching her, Max didn’t understand — and probably never would — how the people who were supposed to love her first and fiercest could have ever made her feel like this side of her wasn’t worth seeing.

How did you miss this?

 How did you miss her?

How could you look at Belle — at her patience, her stubbornness, her gentleness — and think she was someone it was okay to forget?

Max didn't know how Charles or Pascale or Arthur or even Lorenzo could live with themselves.

She had been right there, waving from the garage, smiling through being overlooked, standing quietly beside them her whole life — and they’d blinked, and she was gone.

He didn’t know if they'd ever get her back, not in the way they thought they were entitled to.

 And maybe they didn’t deserve to.

Max shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling the steady beat of his own pulse against his knuckles. He wasn’t angry on his own behalf — he was angry for her. For every memory she had where she learned she needed to be small to survive. For every year she thought invisibility was safer than asking for more.

But here — here, she didn’t shrink herself.

Here, she was all soft light and warm hands and quiet magic.

He watched as Belle rested her forehead against Fleur’s, closing her eyes. Whispering something Max couldn’t hear.

He didn’t move.

He would wait forever if it meant she never had to be small again.

When she finally turned toward him, cheeks flushed, hair tangled in the breeze, Max just smiled — slow and sure — and opened his arms without a word.

Belle crossed the space between them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And when she folded herself against his chest, Max pressed his mouth to the top of her head and thought, fiercely, I will never let you feel invisible again.

Not here. Not with him.

Never.

***

Belle sat curled into the armchair, hands knotted in the hem of her sweater. Her phone buzzed on the low table beside her — again — and she flinched without meaning to.

She didn’t pick it up. She hadn’t read any of them. Not a single message.

Across from her, Simone sat, notebook closed, pen resting untouched on the armrest. She didn’t need notes yet. She was just watching — waiting for Belle to breathe first.

"You don’t have to," Simone said finally, nodding toward the phone. "We can leave it buzzing all session if you want. This is your hour."

Belle looked down at her hands.

"I don’t know what they want," she said, voice thin. "I don’t know if I want to know."

"That's a choice," Simone said simply. "It’s your choice."

Belle twisted the hem tighter. "They keep calling. Texting. DMing. It’s like... once Charles realized, they all remembered I exist."

"That realization isn’t yours to carry," Simone said. "You didn’t make yourself invisible. They chose not to see you."

“You haven’t answered,” Simone asked, her voice even…non-judgemental.

Belle shook her head, pressing the rim of the mug tighter against her palms.

“I don’t know if I want to,” Belle whispered.

Simone leaned forward slightly. “You’re allowed to make that choice, Belle. Access to your life — your heart — isn’t something anyone is automatically entitled to. Not even family.”

Belle blinked hard.

“It feels… wrong,” she admitted. “Like I’m being cruel. But also like… maybe it’s finally protecting myself.”

Simone nodded. “Both can be true.”

They sat with that for a moment, letting the air between them settle.

"I feel like if I open one message, I’ll lose the ground I gained," she whispered. "Like they'll pull me back in before I even realize it."

Simone nodded slowly. "That fear is real. It’s valid. But remember — reading a message doesn’t obligate you to answer. They don’t get to set the terms anymore. You do."

Belle sat with that for a long moment, staring at the phone like it was a bomb she didn't know how to disarm.

"You can read what they have to say," Simone continued gently, "and then decide how much access you want to give them. How much of yourself you want to offer back. Or none at all.  But the decision has to come from a place of power — not guilt."

Belle swallowed hard, something inside her cracking open.

"I don’t want to live my life shrinking," she said, so quietly it barely made it into the room.

"You don’t have to," Simone said simply. "You’re allowed to grow bigger than the spaces they built for you."

Belle wiped under her eyes, feeling the tears spill anyway.

"I’m pregnant," she said, almost impulsively, almost defensively — like the words had been trying to claw their way out of her for days.

Simone didn’t react, didn’t widen her eyes or gasp or rush forward.

She just smiled, slow and warm.

"Congratulations," Simone said.

Belle let out a shaky laugh, covering her face for a moment.

"I haven’t told most people yet," she admitted. "It’s... still just mine and Max’s, mostly. But I—"

She broke off, chest tight.

"I don’t want my baby to feel the way I felt," Belle whispered. "Invisible. Like they have to earn love. Like being quiet or not causing trouble makes them easier to keep around."

Simone nodded slowly. "You don’t want them to feel like they have to disappear to be safe."

Belle’s throat closed. That was it. That was everything.

"I want them to know," Belle said, tears slipping freely now. "Every second. That they matter. That they are wanted."

"You can give them that," Simone said gently. "Because you know what it feels like to need it."

Belle hugged her knees tighter to her chest, breathing in slow, ragged pulls.

"I don't know if I can be enough," she whispered.

"You already are," Simone said simply. "You're enough because you see them. The way you should have been seen."

Belle wiped her face roughly with her sleeve, heart pounding painfully against her ribs.

Simone leaned in just a little, voice steady.

"You get to break the cycle," she said. "Not by being perfect. Not by fixing everything. But by loving without conditions."

Belle stared down at her belly, still barely showing under the oversized sweater. A secret, soft and growing.

Not alone anymore.

Not invisible.

Not shrinking to fit someone else's version of worth.

She exhaled shakily.

"I think," Belle said slowly, "I’ll read the messages. Because it’s my choice now."

Simone smiled. "Exactly."

Belle sat back in the chair, letting the silence settle.

For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel heavy.

It felt like freedom.

***

The cats were asleep — a warm, purring pile on the foot of the bed — and the only sound in the room was the hum of the city beyond the windows and the soft rustle of Max shifting beside her.

Belle sat curled up in the corner of the bed, Max’s hoodie swallowing her whole, the phone clutched in both hands.

She hadn’t wanted to look. Not at the missed calls. Not at the voicemails. Not at the dozens of unread messages blinking like warning lights across every app she had.

But now… Now she read them.

One by one.

Apologies. Explanations. Pleading.

Arthur. Lorenzo. Charles.

And Maman. Always Maman.

Maman:Ma chérie… I didn’t realise. I thought I messaged you, but I sent it to Charles by mistake. That’s not an excuse. You deserved more. Always. Please let me come see you. I miss you.

Belle stared at the words, blinking back the slow, stunned weight building behind her eyes.

Because if her mother had texted Charles that morning — if she had thought about Belle enough to even try — then Charles would have known.

He would have remembered.

There wouldn’t have been blank stares in the Ferrari garage.

 There wouldn’t have been celebrations swirling around her while she stood still, invisible.

There would have been a smile.

 A hug.

 A word.

Anything.

But there hadn’t been.

Because her mother hadn’t texted.

Not her.

And not Charles.

She hadn’t thought about her at all.

Belle felt the first tear slip free before she could stop it. Then another. And another.

Her hands shook as she lowered the phone to her lap.

She pressed her knuckles against her mouth, willing herself to breathe, to hold it together — but the ache was too deep. Too old. It cracked open the quiet places she thought she had stitched shut months ago.

The mattress dipped beside her, and Max’s arms were around her before she could say a word.

No questions. No demands. Just solid, unwavering Max, pulling her into his chest, pressing his chin to the crown of her head, wrapping her up like he could protect her from everything the world had failed to.

Belle buried her face in his hoodie and cried — deep, broken, shuddering sobs that shook her ribs and soaked the cotton between them.

Max held her through all of it. Rocked her gently like she was something precious. Whispered soft, fierce things into her hair — I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.

When the tears finally slowed — when Belle could breathe without gasping — she shifted just enough to look up at him.

“She lied to me,” Belle whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Max tensed, not pulling away, but going still — like a storm gathering quietly over open water.

Belle twisted the fabric of his hoodie between her fingers, needing something to hold onto. “My mother. In her messages. She said… she said she thought she had texted me on my birthday. That she checked and realized she sent it to Charles instead.”

Max didn’t say anything.

 Not yet.

He just waited.

“But if she had really texted Charles,” Belle said, blinking hard, “then he would have remembered. Wouldn’t he?”

Max’s jaw tightened against her forehead.

“He would have realized when he saw me. He would have known it was my day.”

 Belle swallowed thickly. “He would have said something. Anything.”

She felt Max’s hand, slow and careful, run up her spine — like he was grounding himself as much as her.

“They didn’t forget by accident, Max,” she whispered, the crack in her voice slicing the room in half. “They just… didn’t think about me at all. And now she’s lying to make herself feel better. Or maybe to make me not be angry anymore.”

There was a long, vibrating pause.

When Max finally spoke, his voice was low. Dangerous.

“She lied to you." Not angry for himself. Angry for her.

“She lied to your face to protect her own feelings,” he said, tightening his grip around her protectively. “And she didn’t even think about what it would do to you.”

Belle didn’t trust herself to speak.

“She didn’t check,” Max said, every word precise and sharp. “She didn’t text you. She forgot you. And now she wants you to comfort her guilt so she doesn’t have to sit with the truth.”

Belle closed her eyes, tucking herself deeper into his chest.

Max’s voice dropped even lower. Colder. Deadlier.

“They don’t deserve to be the ones to tell you how much you matter, Belle,” he said. “Not when they couldn’t even see you standing right in front of them.”

Belle felt herself break apart a little more — not because of the anger in his voice, but because of the fierce, unyielding love underneath it.

Max pulled back just enough to tip her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“They can lie to themselves all they want,” he said, voice rough. “But you’re not invisible anymore. You never were. You are the most extraordinary thing I’ve ever seen.”

Belle tried to smile but it broke halfway through, another tear slipping free.

Max kissed her — not rushed, not desperate — but slow and sure and reverent.

“I see you,” he murmured against her mouth. “I will always see you.”

Belle clutched his hoodie tighter, feeling the words stitch into the broken places inside her chest.

And when she whispered, “Thank you,” it was the kind of thank you that carried a lifetime of hope she hadn’t known how to say before now.

Max brushed her forehead with his lips, arms still wrapped firmly around her.

***

The apartment was dark except for the soft glow of the city outside the windows, and the faint golden light spilling from the kitchen where Max was making tea.

The cats were already asleep, draped dramatically across the couch like tiny emperors, and Belle sat curled up at the dining table, phone in hand.

Her thumb hovered over the Instagram app for a long time.

She hadn’t posted anything in weeks. Maybe longer. Not since before everything cracked open — before her birthday…

It felt strange, almost dangerous, to think about letting the world see even a piece of her life again. To stop living like she needed to apologize for taking up space.

But she was tired. 

She was tired of pretending her life was something to be ashamed of.

She was tired of being invisible.

 Of hiding her joy like it was a crime.

She tapped into her camera roll.

The photo was simple. Max had taken it — taken earlier that afternoon, in the warm haze of the stables. Fleur was grazing and Belle’s arm was tucked around her neck, leaning against the warm white fur.

It wasn’t a professional shot.

 It wasn’t curated.

 It was real.

And for once, Belle didn’t care about anything else.

She clicked ‘post’ before she could talk herself out of it.

Caption:Some things were always meant to find their way back to you.

She stared at it for a moment, heart hammering — not with fear, but with something quieter. Something steadier.

Not everyone would understand.

Most wouldn’t even know what it meant.

But the people who mattered — the ones who knew her, who loved her — they would understand exactly what she was saying.

Max’s voice floated from the kitchen, casual and warm. “You want mint or chamomile?”

Belle smiled softly to herself.

“Mint,” she called back, slipping her phone onto the table, feeling lighter than she had in months.

No more hiding.

No more shrinking.

Her life was hers now.

 And she was finally — finally — ready to live it.

***

Instagram Post: @/isabelleleclerc

Comments:

@/charles_leclerc: …From where did you get a horse??

@/arthur_leclerc: ??? SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A HORSE AGAIN???

@/lorenzo_leclerc: Since when are you even riding again??

@/charles_leclerc: Isabelle. Please answer your phone.

@/arthur_leclerc: PLEASE RESPOND.

@/randomfan72: THE WAY SHE JUST DROPPED THIS WITHOUT CONTEXT???

@/f1updates: Isabelle disappearing for a week and then coming back with a horse is the most iconic thing I’ve seen in a while.

@/f1fanpage: Okay, but WHO GAVE HER A HORSE???

@/monacoroyalty: Isabelle casually revealing that she has a whole horse like it’s a new handbag is sending me.

@/gridgossip: He/she’s gorgeous! What’s their name? ↪ @/isabelleleclerc: Fleur ❤️ She’s a 7 year old Selle Francais mare. 

@/emilie_abadie: God, Belle, she looks just like Blanche…

↪ @/isabelleleclerc: Like Mother, like Daughter ❤️

@/coralie.g: She looks like your childhood horse… 

↪ @/isabelleleclerc: Because she’s her last foal 😭 

@/horselover99: Omg did you always plan to start riding again? 🥹 ↪ @/isabelleleclerc: I never stopped wanting to. Just couldn’t afford to for a long time.

@/victorialaps: This is so random but… how did you even find her? ↪ @/isabelleleclerc: I didn’t. She was a gift. Best surprise ever.

@/f1updates: WAIT WAIT WAIT.

@/f1theories: GIFT?? FROM WHO??

***

The tea had just finished steeping when Max’s phone buzzed once. Then again. And again.

He frowned, setting down the mugs. It wasn’t like his phone to light up at midnight unless something dramatic had happened — and judging by the flood of notifications, the world had just decided to catch fire.

But when he flipped it over, his chest tightened in a very different way.

It wasn’t chaos. It wasn’t panic.

It was Belle.

Her name. Her Instagram. A new post.

Max opened it instantly, barely breathing.

The photo was simple, quiet — Fleur leaning into Belle’s hand, golden light painting everything soft around them.

But it wasn’t the picture that hit him hardest.

It was the caption.

some things are always meant to come back to you.

Max stared at the screen, heart thudding slow and heavy in his chest.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t a declaration.

It was a quiet, stubborn reclaiming of everything Belle had once been taught to hide — her dreams, her peace, her self.

And she hadn’t asked permission.

She hadn't needed anyone’s blessing.

She had simply... posted it.

Without apology.

 Without explanation.

Max set the phone down, grabbed both mugs carefully, and crossed the living room to where Belle sat curled up at the table, her knees tucked under her, the soft edges of exhaustion lingering around her eyes.

She looked up when she heard him, tentative, like part of her was still braced for criticism she didn’t deserve.

Max didn’t say a word.

He placed the tea down. Then he crouched in front of her, sliding his hands over her knees, resting his forehead gently against hers.

No words. Just this.

Just I'm proud of you.

Belle let out a soft, shaky breath, her hand sliding into his hair, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered — because sometimes, he was.

“You saw it?” she whispered.

Max smiled against her skin.

“I saw everything,” he murmured. “And I see you, liefde. Always.”

Belle’s breath hitched.

She closed her eyes and let herself believe it — let herself soak in the truth of it without second-guessing.

She wasn’t invisible here.

She was home.

And Max — Max was exactly where he had always promised he would be:

Right here. Always. With her.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

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

Arthur: Shared Isabelle’s Instagram post

Arthur: …So. Uh.

Arthur: When were you guys planning on telling me that Isabelle suddenly has a HORSE?

Charles: SHE HAS A WHAT.

Lorenzo: Excuse me??

Arthur: A horse, Lorenzo. A living, breathing, four-legged animal. You know. Like the one that was sold when she was a teenager.

Charles: No. No way. That’s not possible.

Arthur: Look at the photo. LOOK AT IT.

Charles: It looks exactly like Blanche.

Lorenzo: That’s not possible.

Arthur: AND YET.

Lorenzo: Okay. Okay. Let’s just—think about this logically.

Arthur: Sure. Logically. Isabelle now has a horse that looks IDENTICAL to the one that was sold to pay for Charles' karting?!?!

Arthur: LOGICALLY, how does that make any sense?!

Charles: Who gave her a horse?

Arthur: WHO KNEW SHE STILL WANTED ONE???

Lorenzo: …Clearly, not us.

Pascale: …We should have known.

Arthur: …Maman?

Pascale: We took away something she loved.

Pascale: And then we never gave it back.

Charles: We didn’t have the money.

Pascale: No. But when we did have the money, we put it into restarting Arthur’s karting career.

Arthur: …

Charles: …

Lorenzo: Merde.

Pascale: And we never even considered doing the same for Isabelle.

Pascale: Not once.

Arthur: I—Maman, I didn’t even think—

Pascale: No. None of us did.

Pascale: She cried for weeks when we sold Blanche. And then, one day, she just stopped talking about it.

Pascale: I thought she had let it go.

Charles: She didn’t let it go. She just realized no one was listening.

Pascale: And I, her own mother, let her believe that if it wasn’t about racing, it wasn’t important.

Lorenzo: We all did.

Arthur: We failed her.

Pascale: And yet she still loved us enough to stay.

Pascale: Even when we didn’t see her.

Charles: We need to fix this.

Arthur: Step one: find out who gave her the horse.

Pascale: Step one: apologize.

Arthur: Step two: figure out how we didn’t even KNOW she was riding again.

Lorenzo: When would she have had the time?

Pascale: She found a way. Because we didn’t give her one.

Pascale: Do you know what hurts the most?

Charles: What?

Pascale: That I don’t even know what kind of life she’s been living.

Pascale: What she loves. Where she goes. Who she spends time with.

Pascale: She grew up right in front of me, and I don’t know her at all.

Arthur: …How do we fix this?

Pascale: I don’t know if we can. ****

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1TeaSpillerIsabelle Leclerc just casually dropped a photo of a whole horse on Instagram, and her brothers had NO IDEA she was even riding again. The family drama is writing itself.

↳ @/LandoSimp44: How do you not notice your sister getting into an expensive, time-consuming hobby???

↳ @/FerrariF1Stan: Maybe because they’ve never paid attention to her interests in the first place…??

↳ @/LeclercFanGirl16: Charles and Arthur are spiraling in the comments, Lorenzo is confused, and Isabelle is just out here ignoring them all. QUEEN.

@/F1GossipGirlHold on. Isabelle didn’t just get any horse. If I’m reading this correctly, this foal is from her childhood horse. The one her family SOLD.

↳ @/MaxForPresident33: Oh, so she’s still THAT angry. And honestly? Good for her.

↳ @/RedBullRacingUpdates: The way she’s been quiet for two whole weeks and then dropped a horse like a bombshell?? I need to know who gave it to her.

↳ @/FerrariDramaAccount: Isabelle’s silence has been screaming for a week straight, and now this. The Leclerc brothers are doomed.

@/F1MemeLordLeclerc brothers: "We totally care about our sister." Also the Leclerc brothers: Completely unaware she’s been riding again and now owns a horse.

↳ @/CharlesFanClub: Yeah, Isabelle is 100% still mad. She really said, "You forgot my birthday? Watch this."

↳ ​​@/MonacoMess: Isabelle is SO passive-aggressive and I respect it.

↳ @/HorseGirlFC: I just KNOW she’s been waiting for the perfect moment to drop this. Iconic behavior.

@/F1InsiderTalk: No, but real talk—if her brothers had no idea she was even riding again, that means they haven’t been paying attention to her at all. That’s rough.

↳ @/TifosiQueen: She had a birthday and they forgot. Now she has a whole damn horse and they didn’t even know she still liked horses.

↳ @/MonacoGossip: Isabelle could disappear to another continent, and I swear they wouldn’t notice until someone tagged them in an Instagram post.

↳ @/ArthurFan27: I love Arthur, but the way none of them know anything about her is actually kind of sad.

@/ChaosModeF1I just KNOW Isabelle had this horse for a bit before dropping it like a bomb on Instagram. The drama, the suspense, the Leclerc brothers losing their minds in real time.

↳ @/MaxVerstappenDefenseSquad: The fact that she didn’t post anything about her birthday but came back with a horse tells me everything I need to know.

↳@/FerrariWoes: I feel like this was the final straw moment.

@/RedBullTroll33Okay, but WHO gave her the horse? Because that’s a serious gift.

↳@/ F1ConspiracyClub: If it was Charles or Arthur, they wouldn’t be so confused in the comments. If it was Lorenzo, he wouldn’t be freaking out too.

↳ @/FerrariPain42: Soooo… secret boyfriend? 👀

↳@/F1ShippersAnonymous: If this turns out to be a soft launch, I WILL lose my mind.

@/MonacoRoyaltyI don’t know who gave Isabelle Leclerc a horse, but I do know that person knows her better than her own family does.

↳ @/FerrariNation: …Damn. That’s actually heartbreaking when you put it like that.

↳ @/IsabelleLeclercDefenseSquad: She really just had to go out and find people who see her, huh?

↳ @/WhoGaveHerAHorse33: Someone get me the details. NOW.

@/F1ChaosModeThe funniest part of this is that Isabelle still hasn’t responded to any of her brothers. Just posted her horse and dipped.

↳ @/LeclercFamilyUpdates: The sheer level of pettiness. I love her.

↳ @/TifosiHeartbreak: Isabelle really said you forgot me, so now I’m forgetting you.

↳ @/FerrariShambles: I want a documentary about the exact moment Charles realized they were bad brothers.

@/F1SpicyTeaI know we’re all laughing, but this actually makes me so sad for Isabelle. Imagine your whole family forgetting your birthday, ignoring you for years, and then being SHOCKED when you move on with your life.

↳ @/MonacoMess: They didn’t even know she still loved horses. 

↳ @/FerrariF1Pain: The worst part? She didn’t even make a dramatic callout post about her birthday. She just let their silence speak for itself.

↳ @/TifosiAngstClub: She is the human embodiment of "I no longer expect anything from you."

@/F1ConspiracyClubIsabelle didn’t just buy this horse. Somebody gave it to her, according to her. Whoever they are, they know her better than her entire family.

↳ @/SoftLaunchDetective: If this is a secret boyfriend reveal, it’s the most dramatic and poetic one I’ve ever seen.

@/MonacoRoyalty: Isabelle Leclerc is the queen of quiet revenge. No loud callouts. No arguments. Just a perfectly timed Instagram post that says everything.

↳ @/FerrariTears: And the best part? Her brothers are LOSING IT in the comments.

↳ @/ArthurLeclercDefenseSquad: Arthur is panicking like she’s about to disappear forever.

↳ @/CharlesHasNoClue: Charles sounds like he’s five seconds away from personally investigating who gave her the horse.

↳ @/TifosiDetectives: The thing is, they should know. But they don’t.

@/TifosiMess: So let me get this straight:

Isabelle’s family forgot her birthday.

She disappeared for two weeks.

Charles finally remembers that he has a sister. 

Isabelle comes back with a horse.

Drops it on Instagram like it’s a casual Tuesday.

Her brothers have no idea where it came from.

I am obsessed with this timeline.

↳ @/FerrariAngst: I’m still stuck on "they didn’t even know she was riding again."

↳ @/CharlesNeedsHelp: The way they suddenly care now that it’s public.

@/F1SoftLaunchDetective: I’ll say it. Whoever gave her the horse loves her more than her own family does.

↳ @/FerrariHeartbreak: And that’s why the Leclerc brothers are panicking.

↳ @/RedBullInsider: Just waiting for the next phase of this drama. I know something bigger is coming.

↳ @/TifosiConspiracies: I have a gut feeling that when we find out who got her the horse, the internet will EXPLODE.

***

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Arthur: I don’t really know how to start this.

Arthur: But I guess the first thing I need to say is—I’m sorry.

Arthur: I keep thinking about when I had to stop karting. How devastated I was. How unfair it felt.

Arthur: You know, when I was younger, I used to think we were the same.

Arthur: We both lost something for Charles. We both had to step aside.

Arthur: But the difference is, I got my second chance.

Arthur: And you never did.

Arthur: They gave me my dream back. But nobody ever thought to give you yours.

Arthur: And the worst part is, I never even thought about it.

Arthur: I was so focused on getting my own dream back that I never stopped to ask if you wanted yours.

Arthur: Or if you were even okay.

Arthur: I remember when they sold Blanche. You locked yourself in your room for days. Maman kept saying you’d get over it.

Arthur: But you never did, did you?

Arthur: I should have noticed. I should have asked.

Arthur: I should have known that you never stopped loving it. That you never moved on just because we assumed you did.

Arthur: But we never gave you a choice, did we?

Arthur: You were always the one who had to sacrifice something. You were always the one who had to step aside.

Arthur: And I never even thought about how much that must have hurt.

Arthur: I let myself believe you were fine because it was easier than realizing we left you behind.

Arthur: When I saw that horse, I thought my heart stopped. She looks just like Blanche.

Arthur: I had to read your post three times before it sank in. That you never let go of that part of yourself. That you found your way back.

Arthur: And none of us even knew.

Arthur: I don’t know where to start making this right. I don’t know if I even can.

Arthur: I don’t expect you to answer me. I don’t even know if I deserve an answer.

Arthur: But Isabelle, if there is even the smallest chance that I can fix this, that I can fix us—

Arthur: Tell me how. And I’ll do it.

Arthur: No hesitation. No questions asked.

Arthur: Je suis désolé, petite sœur.

Arthur: And I miss you.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

 (Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hulkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sergeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll and Valtteri Bottas)

Lando: (sends screenshots) Belle is choosing violence. 

Carlos: She posted Fleur 😭

Alex: Softest betrayal ever. I’m crying.

Sebastian: That's not just any horse. That’s the horse.

Zhou: WAIT??? THAT'S THE FOAL FROM HER CHILDHOOD HORSE??

Fernando: The symbolism is destroying me. Quiet vengeance at its finest.

David: Imagine getting obliterated by your sister posting a horse.

Lance: Charles is about to have another breakdown isn’t he

Oscar: He’s already melting down in her comments.

Logan: WHO GAVE HER THE HORSE THOUGH

George: who do you THINK

Nico Hülkenberg: lol max the softest secret husband in existence

Daniel: max is so whipped it's beautiful

Lewis: He literally said “my wife wants to visit her horse” the other day with the softest voice known to man

Kimi: Good. Someone should love her properly.

Lando: the LECLERC BROTHERS are LOSING IT

Oscar: literally fighting for their lives in the comments while Belle is posting like nothing happened 😂

Fernando: This is what true passive-aggressive excellence looks like. I’m so proud.

Valtteri: horse girl revenge >>> everything

Zhou: also can we talk about how she hasn’t answered a SINGLE one of them

George: Do you think Charles is gonna figure it out soon??

Carlos: absolutely not.

Oscar: he's gonna lose his mind when he finds out Max bought her the horse

Daniel: WAIT TILL HE FINDS OUT THEY'RE MARRIED LMAOOOO

Lando: oh my god he still doesn't know

Lewis: beautiful chaos.

Alex: 10/10 no notes

Oscar: Honestly Belle just won the soft war without even lifting a finger.

Daniel: She dropped a horse and bounced. ICON.

George: Meanwhile Charles is running around Monaco like a headless chicken.

Carlos: good. he deserves to sit with this.

Fernando: actions have consequences. and sometimes those consequences come with four legs and a braided mane.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/coraliegaudin: I don’t think people really get how much Isabelle Leclerc sacrificed. I knew her at university, and she was one of the smartest, hardest-working people I’ve ever met. But she never seemed happy. A thread.

↳ @/coraliegaudin: She wasn’t the type to talk about herself. She showed up, did the work, and left. No parties, no celebrations, nothing. Just school and her jobs.

↳@/coraliegaudin: And she always had jobs. She tutored, did internships, and worked at a stable. Yes, a stable.

↳@/coraliegaudin: I remember seeing her come to class still smelling like hay, her hands rough from work. And the thing is? That was the only time she ever looked truly alive.

↳@/coraliegaudin: She never told people why, but I found out later—her family sold her childhood horse when she was a teenager.

↳@/coraliegaudin: She didn’t ask them to fix it. She didn’t ask for help. She just worked. Worked herself into the ground to afford even a few hours of riding time.

↳@/coraliegaudin: I remember once, someone asked her why she never celebrated her grades. She just said, “It’s not that important.”

↳@/coraliegaudin: Not that important. Graduating with top honors. Getting a degree. None of it mattered to her. Because all she ever wanted was something she lost years ago.

↳@/coraliegaudin: And now, she has a horse again. Not just any horse—the foal of the one she lost.

↳@/coraliegaudin: I don’t think people understand how huge that is. This isn’t just a gift. It’s her entire dream given back to her.

↳@/coraliegaudin: She spent years giving up things for other people. But someone finally gave something back to her.

↳@/coraliegaudin: If anyone deserves that kind of love and thoughtfulness, it’s Isabelle Leclerc. I hope she’s finally as happy as she always deserved to be.

***

Text Messages: Lorenzo Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Lorenzo: Isabelle.

Lorenzo: I know you probably don’t want to hear from me.

Lorenzo: But I need to say this.

Lorenzo: I’m sorry.

Lorenzo: I don’t know how we forgot your birthday. I don’t know how we’ve made you feel so invisible.

Lorenzo: But we did. And I hate that it took this for me to realize how badly we’ve failed you.

Lorenzo: You’ve been riding again. I didn’t know. And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

Lorenzo: I should have. I should have asked. I should have paid more attention.

Lorenzo: But I didn’t.

Lorenzo: I should have asked what you were up to. I should have…I should have known that you were riding again. And that you moved. And that you quit your job. But I didn’t. 

Lorenzo: I just assumed you were fine, even when you had every reason not to be.

Lorenzo: I don’t expect you to answer.

Lorenzo: I just need you to know—I see it now. I see you now.

Lorenzo: And I will spend however long it takes making sure you never feel forgotten again.

Lorenzo: I love you, Isabelle.

Lorenzo: Whenever you’re ready.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/Clara_Marelli: So I wasn’t going to say anything, but seeing all the speculation about Isabelle Leclerc and her new horse? I need people to understand why this is such a big deal. Because I knew her back when she lost her first horse, and let me tell you—it broke her.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: Isabelle wasn’t just a horse girl, she was the horse girl. You know how some kids live and breathe a sport? That was her with riding. It wasn’t just a hobby, it was everything.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: She used to come to school with hay in her hair because she’d wake up early to ride before class. She had riding gloves permanently stuffed in her pockets. She sketched horses in the margins of her notebooks. It was who she was.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: And then one day, she stopped.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: We were all confused. She never shut up about riding, and suddenly, she wouldn’t even mention it. If you asked about her horse, she’d just give this tight little smile and say, “She’s gone.” No explanation. No emotion. Just… gone.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: We only found out later that her family sold her horse to help fund Charles’ racing career. And look—I get it, racing is insanely expensive, and the Leclercs aren’t the first family to make sacrifices for motorsport. But this wasn’t just some hobby she could pick up again later.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: This was the thing that made her happiest, and it was ripped away from her.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: And what made it worse? She never complained. Not once. She just swallowed it, like she had already learned that what she wanted didn’t matter.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: After that, she changed. She got quieter. She stopped sketching horses. She stopped talking about anything she loved, really. It was like she decided—consciously or not—that if she didn’t care about things, they couldn’t be taken from her.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: And now, years later, she suddenly posts that she has a horse again. And her own brothers didn’t even know she was riding.

↳@/Clara_Marelli:  That tells me everything. It tells me that she never stopped missing it. That, at some point, she must have started riding again, but she kept it completely to herself. She didn’t tell her family. She didn’t trust them with it.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: And honestly? That makes me so, so sad. Because they should’ve been the first to know. They should’ve noticed that she was still hurting.

↳@/Clara_Marelli:  Instead, she had to find her way back to something she loved on her own.

↳@/Clara_Marelli: Whoever got her that horse—because let’s be real, this wasn’t a random purchase—they didn’t just give her a gift. They gave her back a part of herself. And that means more than her family probably even realizes.

@/F1Girl99: This is actually so heartbreaking. The way she just shut down after losing her horse?? And her family didn’t even realize??

@/LeclercNation: Nah, this makes the whole thing so much worse. Like, it’s one thing to forget her birthday, but not even knowing she still rides??

@/redbullgirly: “She didn’t trust them with it” is actually such a devastating sentence. Imagine having to hide the thing that makes you happiest because you know your family won’t care.

↳@/arthurfairy: The fact that she got a horse again but didn’t tell a single soul in her family tells me everything I need to know about how much that hurt her.

@/gridgossip: Everyone’s talking about how sad this is, but can we also talk about who got her that horse? Because that’s not a small gift. That’s a “someone knows exactly what you lost and wanted to give it back” kind of gift.

@/tifositilidie: Imagine being Charles or Arthur and realizing you never even thought about getting her back into riding.

↳@/ohmyf1: The fact that they restarted Arthur’s karting career but didn’t do the same for Isabelle and just assumed she got over it… yeah, that’s rough.

@/chaoticquadrant: Isabelle’s silence about all of this is louder than anything she could’ve said.

@/pitlaneprincess: The fact that a random classmate knows more about Isabelle’s pain than her own family is WILD.

@/verstapwinning: I actually can’t get over the part where she just stopped talking about things she loved after they sold her horse. That’s not just sadness, that’s trauma.

@/softforcharles: I love Charles, but the way they all just assumed she was fine… like, did no one ever ask her if she wanted to ride again??

↳@/F1andChill: I’m just saying—if my sibling was secretly riding again and I found out from Instagram, I would simply pass away from shame.

@/IsabelleLeclercFan: The worst part? She didn’t even announce it like “Look what I got!” She just posted it, like it was a casual thing. That’s how you know it meant everything to her.

@/formula1tea: Okay, but do we think her family even realizes what this means yet?? Or are they still stuck on the “Wait, she rides?” stage?

@/offtrackchaos: Imagine Charles thinking she just outgrew the horse phase, only to find out she’s been hiding it from them for years.

@/arthurisstressed: Arthur’s probably having a full-blown crisis over this. You just know he’s the type to blame himself.

@/MaranelloMess: Isabelle’s whole family right now: “Wait… are we the villains?”

↳@/tifosiprincess: Yes. Yes, you are.

@/undercutf1: Like imagine realizing your sister got back into her childhood passion, something that was taken from her, and you had no idea. No one knew. That’s insane.

@/arthurwasfoundshaking: Arthur realizing he got his dream back but she never did… oh, he’s spiraling.

@/paddocksecrets: Her whole family just realized in real time that they don’t actually know her anymore.

@/charlesnation16: Charles must be freaking out because, in his head, Isabelle never even mentioned wanting to ride again. But the reality is she probably knew they wouldn’t care, so she never said anything.

@/leclercsdaughter: Imagine looking at your sister’s post and realizing someone else—not you, not your family—gave her back the thing you all took away.

@/mclarendreaming: The fact that there was ZERO lead-up. No hints. No casual mentions. Just BAM, full horse.

@/paddockwhispers: At this point, someone needs to check on the Leclerc group chat. I know they are LOSING IT.

@/padlockpundit: Someone said this isn’t just a gift, it’s an apology on behalf of the universe, and honestly?? Yeah.

@/blisteringbarnacles: I can’t tell what’s funnier—Twitter solving this mystery in real-time or the fact that Isabelle is probably watching all of this unfold while sipping tea.

@/hamiltonshalo: Someone find out how much horses cost because I need to understand just how deep this gift goes.

@/GridTea: Sorry, but how do you have a sibling making millions in F1, and you’re out here working three jobs and shoveling horse stalls just to afford riding lessons?? I need someone to make it make sense.

@/F1DramaFiles: So Charles was making Ferrari money and Isabelle was out here grinding like a broke college student?? He couldn’t spare a little “my sister should live like a human being” fund???

@/OverworkedLeclerc: She was out here studying, working multiple jobs, AND still showing up to races when she could. Meanwhile, her whole family forgot her birthday. I would simply cut everyone off.

@/HorseGirlAnon: Do you know how EXPENSIVE equestrian sports are? And she worked her own way back into it with no support? That’s insane. She deserved so much better.

@/TifosiMess: Charles in every interview: “Family is everything.”Meanwhile Isabelle: was forgotten at every major milestone in her life.

@/F1Receipts: It’s also the fact that Isabelle has never once publicly complained about it. No bitter comments, no shade—she just put her head down and worked. Meanwhile, Charles was out here with a whole family support system hyping him up.

@/F1Overthinker: Not to be dramatic, but if I were Charles, Arthur, or Lorenzo, I would simply never recover from the public dragging happening right now.

@/F1TeaSpiller: 

Charles: “I’m so grateful to my family for supporting me.”

Isabelle: literally working at a horse stable just to be around them again.

@/JusticeForIsabelle: Nah, the fact that she was grinding through multiple jobs while Charles was out here buying sports cars, yachts, and luxury vacations is actually making me sick.

@/MonacoMess: Me reading Isabelle’s old interviews where she barely mentions herself and only hypes up her brothers, knowing now they weren’t doing the same for her: [GIF: "This is so much worse than I thought."]

***

Text Messages: Pascale Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Pascale: Ma chérie, please talk to me.

Pascale: I saw your post. The horse… she looks just like Blanche.

Pascale: I didn’t know you were still riding.

Pascale: I should have known.

Pascale: I should have asked.

Pascale: I don’t have the words to tell you how sorry I am.

Pascale: When we sold Blanche, I told myself you would be okay. That you were strong. That you would move on.

Pascale: But that was just me making excuses. I should have fought harder for you.

Pascale: And then when we had the chance to give you back what you lost… we didn’t even think to.

Pascale: Isabelle, please. Say something.

Pascale: Ma fille, I know I don’t deserve an answer right now.

Pascale: I love you. So, so much. ***

Text Messages: Sebastian Vettel & Charles Leclerc

Sebastian: Charles. Saw Belle’s post. Wanted to check in.

Charles: I’m fine.

Sebastian: You’re not. And that’s okay. But pretending doesn’t help.

Charles: It’s just— She has a horse, Seb. A whole horse. And she never told any of us.

Sebastian: Maybe you weren’t listening.

Charles: I WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED A HORSE.

Sebastian: Would you? You didn’t remember her birthday. You didn’t notice she moved out. You didn’t notice she left her job. What makes you think you would have noticed a horse?

Charles: It’s a HORSE, Seb! Not a haircut!

Sebastian: It’s not about the horse. It’s about what the horse represents. Freedom. Love. A piece of herself you never asked about. Or thought to give back.

Charles: It feels like she lied to us.

Sebastian: She didn’t lie. She protected herself. There’s a difference.

Charles: She didn’t even give us a chance to fix it.

Sebastian: Charles. You don't get to demand trust from someone you ignored. Trust is built. It’s not owed.

Charles: I just— I thought she was okay.

Sebastian: Because it was easier to think that than to ask.

Charles: She posted a horse, Seb. A HORSE. HOW LONG HAS SHE BEEN HIDING A HORSE??

Sebastian: (typing) (long pause) Charles. Focus. It’s not about the horse.

Charles: IT’S A LITTLE ABOUT THE HORSE.

Sebastian: Focus.

Charles: I’m trying.

Sebastian: Try harder. She deserves better.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1TeaSpiller: Okay, so if you’re confused about why Isabelle Leclerc’s new horse is causing a meltdown, buckle up, because this is some Shakespearean family drama.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Basically, years ago, when Charles was climbing the motorsport ranks, the Leclerc family didn’t have the money to support all three kids in racing. Arthur had to stop karting, and Isabelle—who was really into horseback riding—had her horse sold to fund Charles’ career.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Yes. You read that correctly. They sold her childhood horse to support Charles.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Now, obviously, funding a motorsport career is insanely expensive, and a lot of families make sacrifices. But imagine being a teenager, loving your horse, and then one day—boom. Gone.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: What makes it worse? Unlike Arthur, who eventually got the chance to restart his racing career, Isabelle never got that opportunity with riding. The family focused on Charles and never revisited her dreams.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Fast forward to now, and Isabelle just casually drops on Instagram that she owns a horse again—and it looks eerily similar to the one they sold.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Her brothers (Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo) all freaked out in the comments because they clearly had no idea she was even riding again, let alone that she had bought a horse.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller:  And this is where it gets messy. Because it means:

They never asked about her interests.

They had no clue she had started riding again.

They didn’t even know where she was living.

She never told them about any of this—which, like… speaks volumes.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller:  Anyway, people are connecting the dots and realizing Isabelle has probably been pulling away from her family for a while, and they just… didn’t notice.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Because let’s be real—how do you forget your sister’s birthday, AND not know she got back into the thing she loved most as a kid??

↳@/F1TeaSpiller:  TL;DR: The Leclerc brothers are in big trouble right now.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Oh, and the final kicker? Isabelle agreed in the comments that the horse was a gift. The way Isabelle phrased her post—“some things will always come back to you”—makes it sound like this horse is directly connected to the one she lost. Apparently it was her childhood’s horse last foal. 

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: If that’s true? Then someone—who is not her family—went out of their way to find a descendant of her old horse and give her back a piece of what she lost.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: And I have questions.

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: Because if her own family didn’t do this… who did?

***

The restaurant buzzed with quiet conversation and clinking silverware, candlelight glinting off polished glasses. It should have been relaxing — a rare, normal night in Monaco, tucked into a corner booth with Alexandra, sipping wine and trying to pretend that everything wasn’t on fire.

It wasn’t working.

Charles could barely focus on anything she was saying. His mind kept looping back to Belle’s Instagram post.

A horse. A goddamn horse.

Captioned cryptically, like some kind of soft dagger straight into his already-shredded guilt.

He hadn’t even known she still rode. He hadn’t known she had a horse.

What else didn’t he know? What else had he missed while he was busy pretending everything was fine?

He stabbed his fork into his salad with unnecessary violence.

Alexandra reached across the table, covering his hand. “Eat. You’re spiraling.”

Charles muttered something about not being hungry, but then — movement over Alexandra’s shoulder caught his eye.

He straightened immediately.

Across the room, near the outdoor terrace, sat two very familiar figures.

Emilie Abadie. And Lando Norris?!

Together. Laughing.

Leaning in too close over a shared plate of something fried.

It didn’t look like a casual meeting.

It looked like a date.

Charles’s blood pressure spiked instantly.

Because if Emilie was here — and laughing — that meant Belle wasn’t spiraling alone somewhere. Or worse — she wasn’t telling Emilie to tell him anything.

He shot up from his seat before Alexandra could stop him.

"Charles," she hissed, trying to grab his sleeve. "Sit down!"

But he was already marching across the restaurant, half-blinded by panic, guilt, and the deep, bone-deep need to do something.

Emilie spotted him halfway across the room. Her smile dropped like a rock into the ocean.

"Emilie," he said, voice tight. "We need to talk. About Belle."

Emilie set her wineglass down with infuriating calm.

"I’m having dinner," she said coolly. "Sit down or leave."

Charles didn’t sit. He couldn’t. The panic was a living thing inside him.

“She posted a horse,” he said, almost accusingly. “A horse! She never said anything! She’s still not answering me. You’ve seen her. You know. Why won’t you just—just tell me what’s going on?!”

For a second, Emilie just stared at him.

Then — like a blade sliding out of a sheath — her smile disappeared.

"You think you're owed answers now?" she asked, voice so sharp Charles actually leaned back a fraction. "After months of ignoring every warning sign? After standing in the same garage with her and looking through her like she wasn’t even real?"

Charles’s throat worked, but no sound came out.

"You want to know why she’s not answering you?" Emilie went on, soft and lethal. "Because you only want her when it's convenient. When it fits your schedule. When it doesn't mess up the perfect story you tell yourself about your family."

“Emilie—”

"No," she cut across him, fierce and furious. "You don’t get to interrupt. You didn’t text her. You didn’t notice she moved. You didn’t notice she quit her job. You didn’t notice when she smiled through being forgotten on the day that should have been about her."

Charles flinched like she’d slapped him.

"You forgot her birthday," Emilie said, each word a scalpel slicing down to bone. "And you think a few panicked phone calls are enough to fix that?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

"You don't love Belle the way you should," Emilie said, voice low, devastating. "You love the idea of her. The safe, quiet little sister who never asks for anything. Who never demands too much. Who lets you shine without ever threatening your light."

Charles stared at her, feeling hollowed out, feeling cracked open.

"You didn't see her when she needed you," Emilie said. "And now you don't deserve to see her at all — not until she says you can."

Beside her, Lando sat perfectly still, wide-eyed — half in awe, half in something dangerously close to admiration.

Charles shook his head, trying to hold onto something, anything.

“I just want to make it right—”

"Then start by not making it about you," Emilie snapped. "Start by realizing that sometimes you don’t get to be the hero of the story you broke."

Charles felt like the floor had dropped out from under him.

For a long moment, the restaurant spun around him — laughter, silverware, clinking glasses — but all he could hear was Emilie’s voice, merciless and true.

And he knew, in some terrible, undeniable way, that she was right.

He wasn’t the center of Belle’s story anymore.

He wasn’t even a footnote.

He had made himself a ghost in her life, and now he was furious that he couldn’t haunt it.

Emilie leaned back in her chair, perfectly calm now, like she hadn’t just torn him apart at the seams.

"Now," she said, reaching for her wine again, "go back to your table. Apologize to Alexandra. And maybe — if you’re lucky — figure out how to be someone your sister actually wants to let back in."

Charles didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.

He turned away on shaking legs, retreating across the restaurant under the weight of his own failure.

***

Text Messages: Charles Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Charles: Isabelle.

Charles: I know you probably don’t want to hear from me. I get it. I’m still going to say this anyway.

Charles: I was fifteen when they sold Blanche. I knew how much she meant to you. I knew how much it would break your heart.

Charles: And I still let it happen. I told myself it wasn’t my decision. That it was out of my hands. That it was for the greater good.

Charles: But that’s not the truth. The truth is, I was selfish. I was scared. I was so focused on keeping my own dream alive that I let them take yours away.

Charles: I didn’t fight for you. I didn’t even try.

Charles: I keep thinking about that day. The way you looked at them. At me. Like you finally understood that nothing you said was ever going to change it. And still, I stayed quiet. I just let it happen.

Charles: You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry. You just… disappeared inside yourself. And we all pretended it would get better on its own.

Charles: It didn’t.

Charles: When Arthur got his second chance years later, we celebrated. But we never once thought about giving you yours. We just assumed you had "moved on."

Charles: I see now how wrong that was. You didn’t move on. You just learned how to survive being left behind.

Charles: And then we forgot your birthday. You were standing right there. Wearing Ferrari red. Smiling at me. And I still didn’t see you.

Charles: I keep asking myself how many times we made you feel invisible without even realizing it.

Charles: I don’t blame you for shutting us out. I don’t blame you for walking away. You deserved better than what we gave you.

Charles: And I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry.

Charles: I don��t know how to fix this. Maybe I can’t.

Charles: But I want to try. If you’ll let me.

Charles: If you need space, I’ll give you space. If you need time, I’ll wait. If you never want to speak to me again, I’ll understand.

Charles: But if there’s any chance at all—any way to rebuild even a fraction of what we broke— I’ll do whatever it takes.

Charles: No excuses. No conditions. No timeline.

Charles: I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll listen as long as it takes.

Charles: You mattered then. You matter now. You always have. Even when we were too blind to see it.

Charles: I love you. I’m so sorry I ever made you doubt that.

[sleeplessdove]

— bubble pop electric !

♡ perv!dealer! e. williams x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re at the drive in with your new dealer, what could go wrong?

a/n: just a writing warm up im sorry

warnings: not proofread we die like laura palmer, dealer ellie, weed usage, heavy intoxication kink, perv behavior, stalking somewhat, public sex, degrading, praising, pet names, toxic ellie my beloved, dubious consent, fingering (r! receiving), loser ass ellie, sorta scent kink i guess, manipulation, sex while intoxicated, mentions of further sex lol maybe a pt 2 is coming, probably lots more so proceed with caution !!!

wc: 5k

The sound of your ringtone echoed through your bedroom, making you perk up from where you were seated on your bed. 

She’s right on time, 7:30 on the dot ! 

You hadn’t been expecting her to show up when she had said she would, as your friends that bought their weed supply from Ellie often complained that she showed up whenever she wanted. Then again, she also swore she didn’t do drop offs for anyone and yet she had immediately offered to stop by your place to deliver everything you had asked for. 

She had joked with you over text that it was only because you were a first time customer, she had to make a good impression after all. 

Either way, you weren’t one to question good things so you quickly scrambled out of your bed before texting her that you would be out in a second. 

You tucked your cash into your waistband with shaking fingers, your nerves tingling as you made your way towards the front door with long strides. 

Fuck, why were you so nervous? It’s not like you were doing anything inherently wrong— you just wanted to relax and stop bumming off your other friends' joints by ensuring you had your own stuff to smoke. 

Maybe it was Ellie’s reputation, as you had barely interacted with her besides the small nod she’d give you when she spotted you at parties of mutual friends. She kept to herself for the most part, but that didn’t stop you from hearing about how she was fucking half the girls at the college you both attended. 

And from what you heard, she was good at what she did with those other women. It wasn’t at all hard to believe, as she had a certain way about her that drew you in and you were sure many others felt the same. When she texted you back, even just asking you to specify what exactly you wanted to buy from her, you found yourself smiling at your phone. 

It was the little nicknames, the way she seemed genuinely interested in giving you the best experience possible as a first time buyer. But you had to reason with yourself, reminding yourself that she was just trying to make a sale so of course she was going to be a little sweet on you. 

Even with a rational mind, you couldn’t help but take in a shaky breath as you stepped out into the cool air of the night, spotting Ellie’s car not too far away. You gave a small nervous wave as you walked towards your car before you silently cursed yourself for the embarrassing gesture. 

Despite it, you opened the passenger door of her car and got in, just as she had told you to do over text. Immediately, you picked up on the scent of weed— good weed clinging to the air along with the warm scent of whatever expensive cologne she was wearing. The smell seemed to calm your nerves enough that you were able to give a soft smile. 

“Hey, thanks for coming by. I fucked up my tires last week and you know how expensive that is so I’ve just been—“ you begin to ramble due to how anxious you feel, but when your eyes flicker towards her amused expression you quickly cut yourself off. 

“Sorry” you say with a small laugh, placing your hands on your lap and smoothing out the material of your skirt to soothe yourself. Ellie is quick to shake her head, offering you a smile that makes the corner of her eyes crinkle ever so slightly . 

“What’re you apologizing for, sweet girl?” she questions, all too relaxed. The pet name alone had you feeling dizzy with unexpected emotions. You only give a slight shrug of your shoulders, attempting to appear just as relaxed as Ellie does. “Uhm– I just, I mean you don’t care about that stuff” you mutter with a sheepish smile, fumbling with your skirt for a moment before you pull out the cash you had been saving for this very occasion. 

You hold it out to her as if it were some sort of peace offering, but Ellie lightly shakes her head and pushes your hand away gently, rejecting the money you had saved up for weeks. “You think I don’t care?” she questions, blatantly ignoring the fact that she was  supposed to be your dealer and nothing more. The odd question makes you falter for a moment, unsure of how you’re meant to respond. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just don’t think you wanna hear me rambling on” you mutter, your voice far softer than intended. Although it seems as if you picked the correct answer, as Ellie’s grin only seems to widen. “It’s important for me to care about my customers, isn’t it?” she jokes, pleased with herself as she watches you relax in the slightest bit from her playful tone. “I guess so” you say with a breathy laugh, feeling the tension in your body slowly melting away. 

“Is this not enough or…?” you begin, looking down at the money that was still held loosely in your hand, as if you were expecting her to tell you that her prices had suddenly gone up. “First time customer means you get it for free” she says smoothly, reaching into the backseat to grab the baggy she had made just for you. An assortment of homemade edibles and prerolls filled the baby pink baggie she had placed them in, although you had only requested prerolls. 

Your eyes were wide as you looked between her and the goods she had prepared just for you, as if you were a deer with headlights staring back at you. From what you had heard, Ellie didn’t fuck around when it came to her money. She wanted on time payments or even payments in advance, she was a business woman after all. It was hard for you to fathom such a concept, as you were unused to such kindness, especially from someone with her reputation. 

But despite your lack of knowledge of her, Ellie knew all about you. She had spent months slowly befriending your friends just so you would feel comfortable enough to buy from her. Not that she liked selling to any of your friends, but she would do anything to get closer to you. There was no rhyme or reason for her infatuation, and she chose not to question the way she felt about you. 

“I couldn’t– I mean, I can’t” you begin, shaking your head but Ellie is quick to cut you off. “I just want you to test it out, don’t worry about it” she says in a voice that leaves no room for argument. You wanted to object, but you knew there was no point at all. So you simply tuck the cash back in your waistband, offering her a bright smile. 

“You’re not like people say you are” you say without even thinking, inwardly cringing at your choice of words the second you register what you had said to her. She doesn’t seem offended, although she raised a curious brow. “What do people say I’m like?” she questions, not at all seeming offended. 

Ellie knew she had a rather harsh personality with others, but she hadn’t expected that information to reach you. It was as if her plot was falling apart right before her eyes, and yet she had to keep up her laid back facade. “Mm, I don’t know. You’re just– different than what they say” you respond, not really wanting to explain to her that everyone called her a bitch and those who didn’t only spoke highly of her because they had slept with her. 

She doesn’t press the issue, nodding a bit and thanking god that you weren’t threatened by her presence like you used to be. Before you even get the chance to pluck the baggie from her hands, she speaks up once more. 

“You got someone to smoke this with? S’ pretty strong… and if you need someone to make sure you don’t go overboard or anything–” she begins, and you could swear for a moment her voice cracks from nerves. She is so concerned with your wellbeing and for whatever reason it made you blush, your face growing warmer with each passing second. “My place is kind of a mess right now” you tell her in a somewhat disappointed voice, as some part of you ached to be alone with her for a while longer, even if it was just because she didn’t want you to end up greening out. 

“Well we could go to that shitty drive-in downtown, just so you don’t have to be alone” she offers, her fingers lightly tapping against her thigh in a rhythmic manner. “But no pressure, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me but I don’t mean it like that” she lies through her teeth, knowing damn well she had spent the last few weeks fucking herself with her eyes squeezed shut, the image of you held tightly in her mind. 

But you didn’t know that, so who cares? 

You nod quickly, trying to pretend you weren’t discouraged by her comment, as some part of you wanted her to take you to the drive-in with the intention of getting in your pants. “I know, I know. But yeah, why not? I heard they’re playing the original Romeo and Juliet tonight” you say, buckling your seatbelt as she starts up the engine. Ellie couldn’t care less about what they’re playing tonight, all she cares about is getting you alone. 

Ellie had placed the baggie of goods onto your lap before she began driving, to ensure that you didn’t think she was trying to withhold it from you. You kept it grasped tightly in your hands, as if it were a lifeline as your mind raced at a mile a minute. Her music played faintly, some old rap you recognized but made no comment on since the silence between the two of you was comfortable enough. 

All the while, Ellie was trying to collect her own thoughts, as she couldn’t afford to fuck this up after she had worked so hard just to get here. But based on how you were humming along to the music ever so softly, she could tell you weren’t as apprehensive about her as you once were and that helped put her mind to rest. 

Ellie refuses to let you pay even when she has to get the tickets for the movie and you try not to make a fuss about it, doing your best to accept her acts of kindness. By the time the two of you reached the drive-in, the movie was already halfway through but fortunately there was barely anyone else there so Ellie quickly found a spot to park. As she shifted the parking gear into place, she let out a relaxed sigh and glances over to you. 

She takes a moment to simply analyze your delicate features, the way your lips part in awe as the tragic film plays out before you, your attention already on the screen despite only being there for a few moments. With a light nudge, she managed to get your attention back on her so that she could speak to you directly. 

“We should get in the backseat, just so no one sees us smoking n’ it’s more comfortable, so you can enjoy your movie” she states as if it were basic knowledge, and before you can even think her words over, your body begins to move on its own as you step out of the car only to open the back door and slide in there instead. You can’t help but think of how thoughtful she is, how kind she is. This was enough for you to reason that she had no other intentions other than ensuring your safety, although your heart continued to pound in your chest as she settled in the backseat with you. 

She already had a lighter ready, gripped tightly in one hand before she extended her free hand to you, silently prompting you to give her one of the prerolls she had made just for you. You open up the baggie, marveling at the soft baby pink color of the rolling paper she had used for your order. 

As you give it to her, your hands brush against each other and you can feel just how warm she is, a stark contrast to your cool skin. You have to make an effort to not shiver at the contact, the simple act making your mind grow a bit fuzzy.. It was either that or the fact that the scent of weed was already thick in the air the second she lit it for you, along with a hint of something else that took you a moment to put your finger on. 

“Is that lavender?” you question, your head tilting with curiosity as you watch Ellie take a small puff of the joint to make sure it would burn properly before she held it out for you to take. “Smells good, hm? Makes it a little easier to smoke when you roll with lavender, smoother to smoke, at least I think so” she mutters with a slight shrug, trying to ignore the way just watching you take a shaky inhale makes her need for you grow stronger. 

She knew you had smoked before, but not enough to really be a regular at it. This was shown in the way you let out a weak cough, your cheeks growing rosy in the slightest bit. Often, Ellie would dread smoking with inexperienced people but with you, she was in heaven. “S’ good, really good” you huff between your coughs and your voice was truthful despite it all. Lavender was one of the most soothing scents to you, and it helped you relax before taking a few more hits. 

You think for a moment that as good as the smoke is, you’re not really feeling a high that was different from anything else you were used to. That was until you tried to hand Ellie the joint, and you realized your hand was trembling to the point where she had to wrap a firm hand around your wrist so that she could steady you enough to take it from you. 

You have to bury the burning sensation of embarrassment, as you hadn’t taken her warning seriously when she had told you just how strong her stuff was. But the feel of her strong hand wrapping around your wrist only seems to add to the dizzy feeling blossoming within your mind, a pleased sigh falling from your lips as her touch grounds you as much as it possibly can, considering you’re already out of it. 

“Poor baby” she coos in an all too sweet tone that only muddles your mind further. She takes a few hits with ease, her lungs being adjusted to the aching burn that would spread throughout her lungs. You can only watch her with hazy eyes, the realization that you’re alone with someone you had kept in the back of your mind for months suddenly making you feel overwhelmed. Your eyes flicker back towards the movie that continues to play, the smoke bleeding through the windows since Ellie had opened them just enough to make sure she didn’t completely hot box her car. 

Ellie can sense your anxiousness and it makes her heart ache in the most pathetic way. You were completely gone, but Ellie needed you to be a little more pliant if she wanted to be able to get what she wanted. So she brought the joint to your lips, her own hand steady and calm. 

“Just a few more hits for me, sweet girl. You can do it, can’t you?” she asks in a warm tone, easing you into the idea of following her every command. Some part of her is worried she is asking for too much too fast, but you eagerly wrap your lips around the filter of the joint without the slightest bit of hesitation. 

Even with your scrambled mind, you knew that you wanted to please Ellie. You needed to make her proud of you, although you’re unsure why this is such a necessity. But in the midst of your high, you don’t think to question it at all. To you, she is simply being kind and considerate, such a far cry from the other people you knew. 

The fresh hits burn even more, and Ellie is quick to soothe your coughing fit by gently rubbing circles on your back. The smallest touch had goosebumps rising on your skin and you desperately craved more contact, yet you were too fearful to ask for it. So you remain as still as a statue, praying that this isn’t some weed induced hallucination. 

Your muscles begin to relax and Ellie begrudgingly pulls her hand away, not wanting to overwhelm you further. But the moment her warmth is gone, you let out a pitiful whine. It’s breathy and sounds borderline pornographic, as if she had just pulled her fucking strap out of you or something. 

It was a simple touch, and yet it was all that mattered to you in that moment. For the first time ever, Ellie is unsure of what move to make next. She has to play her cards right, lest she scare you off. So she simply watches the way you sway in your seat, your eyes red and half lidded as you look at her with a heartbroken expression due to her no longer touching you. 

“Look at you, so dumb n’ sweet” she coos, her voice making a mockery of the affection she felt towards you. The tone she uses with you is so gentle that you don’t even recognize the degrading words, simply shivering with pleasure as she blows smoke straight into your face before stubbing out the small bit of the joint that is left into an ashtray she had in the car for her cigarette habit. 

Some part of your brain knows that you are too out of it, the world around you spinning far too fast for your liking. And yet, there is nowhere in the world you’d rather be. “You think m’ sweet?” you question, a soft laugh tumbling from your lips. 

Ellie can’t believe that you had chosen to focus on that part of her sentence when she had just called you dumb without any remorse. God, you were everything she wanted and more. 

She nods her head slightly, the weed making her heart beat faster than usual as she slowly inched closer to you in the backseat. The sound of the movie acted as background noise, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt Ellie’s breath fanning against your neck in the slightest. 

Her breathing pattern had changed, short inhales with longer exhales as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that you had willingly smoked over the limit you were comfortable with just to please her. “Course’ I do. Sweetest little thing I’ve ever met in this god forsaken town” she mutters, pressing a feather light kiss to your neck. 

It was enough to make you shiver, a lazy grin on your lips because in your confused mind, you were the luckiest person in the world. Free weed and the hottest girl at your college was worshipping you as if you were something holy was not how you expected your usual Friday night to play out, yet here you were. 

Ellie was choosing to take her time with you, her senses heightened enough that she can pick up on every bit of your perfume. The intoxicating scent of lavender, jasmine, and vanilla swirled in her mind and left her desperate to be as close to you as possible. 

Her strong hand grips your waist, pulling you closer to her own body until you can feel her rapid heartbeat fluttering beneath her skin due to your bodies being flush tight against one another. “Just relax, baby. No need to think when m’ here, alright? Let all those thoughts fade away n’ focus on being here with me” she whispers, her other hand sliding down your body until she can ease it between your thighs. 

She thanks whatever higher power there is that you aren’t wearing any shorts under your little skirt, her fingers coming into contact with your panties that were embarrassingly wet. Ellie uses two fingers to trace the damp patch on the cotton material, soft curses falling from her rosy lips as she watched your brows knit with a mix of confusion and pleasure. 

“Doing so good for me, aren’t you? I knew you’d be so well behaved” she hums, her voice shaky and breathless as she eases her fingers upwards until she can feel your puffy clit through your panties. 

With slow, almost reverent motions, she rubs your aching bud through the soft material. The sensation enveloped your entire body, leaving you to moan weakly as she pushes your thighs apart a bit further just to see how willing you are. 

She is pleased to find that you let her manhandle you into the position she wants without question, your hazy mind far more focused on what your cunt wants. As much as she loves watching your expression of ecstasy, she needs to taste you on her tongue, to memorize every last inch of your mouth so that no one knows you as well as she does. 

As her fingers continue to move against your panties, she captures your lips in a kiss that reflects the need she has been harboring for months. It’s not rough, slower than her usual method of kissing. It is as if she is praising your body through the way she touches you, her tongue as smooth as velvet as it dances along your own. 

With you so lost in the kiss, she uses the opportunity to push the thin material of your panties to the side so she can properly rub your aching clit. It’s filthy how wer you are, her fingers sticky with your arousal after a few seconds of her intimate touch. As much as you are relieved by the contact, it also feels like it is consuming you completely. 

You can’t help but whine against her lips, your shaky hand weakly grasping her wrist in an attempt to pull her hand away from your dripping cunt. But Ellie refuses to yield, unbothered by your pleas for her to slow down. 

“I’m going easy on you, silly girl. It must be all that weed getting in your head, making you imagine things” she muses. She was practically blaming you for how worked up you were, as if she wasn’t the one rubbing your clit at a maddeningly slow pace. 

The sick part was that you truly believed her, you genuinely thought that someone like Ellie knew more than you did. You were the one who had smoked so much and you wanted her touch, so what right did you have to complain about it? 

“More” you plead breathlessly, tears welling in your reddened eyes and quickly spilling down your soft cheeks. It was as if you had no control over your body, and it was running based on pure primal instinct. 

The sight of your tears only turns Ellie on more, her own cunt aching for stimulation. But all she cares about is getting you off, so she shushes you ever so gently before easing one of her fingers into your pussy. 

Your body tenses from the intrusion, hiccups leaving your parted lips as she sinks her finger into your gooey, pliant cunt. Your walls are slick with arousal and Ellie wishes with every fiber of her being that she could sink her strap into you and give you what you really wanted but her fingers would have to do for now. 

“Thaaaat’s it. Look at this pretty little cunt, taking me so well” she praises, kissing the corner of your lips before easing a few kisses down your jaw. Her dirty words seem so romantic when you’re in such a fuzzy state of mind and you are just so pleased that she is giving you so much attention. 

Your hands are restless, tugging at Ellie’s shirt— although you’re unsure if you’re trying to pull her closer or push her away. “Can’t do it, can’t!” you cry, only for her to add a second finger into your slick hole. She pumps her fingers at a slow pace, not feeling the need to be rough because she knows the feeling is intense enough as is. 

You are left to squeeze your thighs together, the pleasure bordering on pain due to how quickly everything is happening. “But you’re doing so well, angel. You wanted more, didn’t you? Did you lie to me, hm?” she questions, questioning you as if she wasn’t the perv who was fucking some sweet girl in the back of her car. 

The question makes you shake your head feverishly, not wanting her to think lowly of you. “No, I promise. S’ just a lot, never ever— mm fuck, never felt like this before” you whisper, your voice unsteady. Her fingers stretched you open perfectly, her thumb still focusing on tracing small circles over your clit. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know. No one has ever taken care of you properly, huh? Those stupid girls you sleep with don’t know how to please a precious thing like you” she says in a syrupy sweet tone that only serves to dumb you down further. 

You nod your head, unsure what you’re even saying anymore. You couldn’t care less, not when she’s curling her fingers inside you just enough to hit the perfect spot. Her fingers thrust against the spongy spot, her own cunt clenching around nothing as she watches you rut against her hand. 

“Gonna cum, gonna— mmf” you try to warn her, as you were not used to finishing so quickly. But your warning doesn’t cause her to slow down in the slightest, she simply keeps her pace as she licks a long stripe up your neck before connecting your lips to hers once more. 

She swallows every single one of your cries as your cream gathers at the base of her fingers, a lewd white ring of your essence marking her as yours. Ellie can feel her ego grow three sizes as she feels your cunt clamp down on her fingers like a silken vice, evidence of your release all over her hand. 

Ellie helps you ride out your orgasm, lazily pumping her fingers deep into your cunt until you pull away from the kiss just to whine that you can’t go any further. Since she had gotten what she wanted, she finally eases her fingers out of you and brings them to her lips instead. 

She keeps her eyes focused on your fucked out expression, watching your chest heave as she sucks her fingers clean. The taste of you leaves her moaning, as it was saccharine and everything she had imagined it to be. 

You are still lost in the haze of your high, your nerve endings seeming to tingle all over as you try to even out your breathing. The effects of the weed haven’t eased up and so you give Ellie a bashful grin, still so shy in her presence despite what had happened. 

The sight of you still behaving so sweetly pleases her in a way she can’t describe, as the purity of your heart seems to only draw her closer. Without missing a beat, she tugs your underwear back in place and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“You wanna make me feel good too, don’t you?” she asks softly, her fingers absentmindedly toying with your hair. It’s not a demand at all, as she simply wants to see what state of mind you’re in. 

Much to her satisfaction, you slowly nod your head after you take a moment to register her words. “Wanna make you feel good” you babble, repeating her words as if you were nothing more than a mindless doll. 

“Atta’ girl” she praises instantly, using gentle movements to help you sit up properly but letting you remain close to her. “How bout’ we go back to my place, just for a bit. We can smoke some more once we’re there and then I’ll let you touch me” she offers, acting casual about it so that you remained in your pliant headspace. 

The offer of being able to go to her house causes you to instinctively nod your head, an eager grin on your lips as you take notice of the windows that were fogged up despite being opened up just a bit. “Pretty please” you beg in a voice that makes Ellie’s heart stutter for a moment or two because she knew she was about to spend the rest of the night either rubbing your slick cunts together or simply letting you eat her out so that you can learn how to properly please her. 

Maybe both if you were awake long enough, although she was sure that after another round the weed would have you out like a light. 

As the credits of the movie begin to roll, she helps you get back into the passenger seat, even buckling your seatbelt for you and giving you one last gentle kiss before she got in the driver's seat. You were still in a daze and thanks to how strong the weed was, Ellie knew she would have you all to herself for the rest of the night.