#i know i JUST said isabel was the best but now this is the best

[ljf613]

we've entered volume 3, which means it's finally time to talk about JOSEF.

to be clear, "the wandering jew" is actually a figure from christian tradition, one i'd never even heard of before AMB, so i am not at all qualified to theorize in that direction. right now, i will only be discussing the significance of the name "josef". (someone who knows more about this topic, feel free to add to this thread!)

"josef" comes from the biblical name יוֹסֵף (read as "yosef") which means something like "he will add" or "G-d increases".

yosef was the eleventh son of yaakov (jacob), and the first child born to his beloved second wife rachel. rachel was barren for many years, so yosef's birth was seen as an extremely fortunate omen. he was yaakov's favorite child-- especially after rachel died giving birth to her second son, binyamin (benjamin)-- and his older brothers were concerned that this favoritism was going to yosef's head and making him think he deserved to be the sole inheritor of yaakov's legacy. (there was precendent for this-- their uncle eisav (esau), himself the favorite child of his father yitzchak (isaac), had spent years hunting yaakov and trying to kill him.) when yosef claimed to have had prophetic dreams indicating that his brothers would all bow down before him, they felt their fears were justified, and sold him into slavery to get him as far away from them as possible.

yosef ended up in egypt, where he was falsely accused of assaulting his master's wife and was thrown into prison. after a long highly providential series of events, he was not only freed, but wound becoming the grand vizier of egypt (second in power only to the pharoh himself), and guided the nation through what should have been a devastating famine. when the famine reached his family's land, his brothers came down to egypt in search of food to buy. not realizing that this powerful lord was their own brother, they came to bow before him, fulfilling his dreams of so many years before. after a complex series of tests that culminated with the brothers refusing to sell binyamin into slavery even to save their own lives, yosef forgave them completely and invited the whole family to come settle in egypt, where they would no longer be at risk of starvation. (unfortunately, once the brothers were all dead, their descendants all ended up becoming eqyptian slaves, but that's a story for another time.)

this is an extremely interesting name for a character like "josef cartaphilus". on a literal sense, a name with a meaning of "he will increase" is such a cool choice for a character who has not only had his lifespan increased well beyond the norm, but also increases suffering wherever he goes AND practices increasingly more disturbing experiments. but also? a naive and optimistic boy condemned and cast out for crimes he doesn't understand and/or is innocent of? eventually becoming so powerful that others bow before him? offering hopes and cures that end up causing more harm than the inital injury? DOES THAT SOUND LIKE ANYONE WE KNOW???

alright, part two of my analysis on biblical names (and/or names with jewish roots) in The Ancient Magus’ Bride. (see here for the first thread, which covers all of volume 1.)

the only biblical name to come up in volume 2 is ISABEL.

"isabel" is the spanish form of the name "elizabeth", which is derived from the hebrew name אֱלִישֶׁבַע (read as "elisheva"), generally rendered as "elisheba". it translates to something like "G-d is my oath".

elisheva was the wife of aharon (aaron) the high priest, and the sister of nachshon ben aminadav (nahshon son of amminadab). we don't know much about elisheva herself, but we can extrapolate based on what we know about her husband and brother. her husband aharon, aside from being the first high priest and ancestor of all the priests who came after him, was known as a man who "loved peace and pursued peace"-- he was always trying to resolve conflicts between other people, particularly feuding spouses. meanwhile, her brother nachshon was the leader of the tribe of yehuda (judah), and, according to tradition, had so much faith in G-d that he walked directly into the red sea before it split.

this is a great name for the character of "isabel"-- the fact that everything we know about her is from the viewpoint of her so-called "brother", and the fact that said "brother" is unfailingly loyal and a fierce protector ties well to both nachshon and aharon. the direct translation also fits well, as oaths and vows and bindings are exactly what kept ulysse by her side even after she was gone. i think this might be my favorite biblical name choice yet!

[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.

[goorgeousz]

older | aaron hotchner

after hours au

older | aaron hotchner

after hours au

pairing: aaron hotchner x profiler!fem!reader

summary: the team uses their profile skills combined to figure out why you’re not interested in the cute agent just downstairs. you hate it. Hotch loves it.

content/tw: a little swearing.  reader is way too dramatic (she threatens to shoot morgan and then herself out of shame).

word count: 1.6k

a/n: I had so much fun writing this one. again, this idea came to me in a shower (my showers are not that long) (I just happen to shower a lot and i have my best ideas in it)

if you have any requests, suggestions or ideas (thought about in the shower or not), my requests are open <3

I’ll stop yapping (for now)

after hours masterlist

main masterlist

The bittersweet scent filled your nostrils before the sight of the steaming extra creamy cappuccino from your favorite coffee shop reached your eyes.

“What?” you squealed in surprise, stopping on your steps and spinning around to find Leo, one of the agents from the second floor “A cappuccino? My favorite! Leo, you didn’t have to.”

“It’s nothing, really.” he dismissed, but puffing his chest either way “I remember you said it’s your favourite. And it happens to be on my way here.” it wasn’t, and you knew it.

“You’re the best!” you complimented, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek “Thank you so much, honey! And it has a little heart in it.” you cooed, and smiled when he blushed “You spoil me way too much!”

“Anything for you.” he flirted “If you need me, I’ll be… Well, you know where to find me.” you chuckled.

“I do. Thank you again!” he smiled and winked, heading to the elevators.

After waiting for a second and tasting the drink to make sure it was as delicious as always (it was), you got back on your track to the break room, only two steps away. You bumped into Emily, who watched the whole interaction with a lopsided grin.

“What?”

“Nothing…” she sing-songed “I just think it’s cute.”

“What’s cute?” Morgan asked, getting in the room just behind the two of you.

Spencer, Hotch and JJ were already there discussing a consulting case the team had been working on. It started with Spencer and Hotch, and then JJ and soon after the break room became a makeshift conference room, like it always did, truly.

“Kelsen just bought her a cappuccino from her favorite coffee place.” Emily announced, getting the attention from the rest. Spencer and Hotch just went back to the files, but JJ standed up and stepped close to you to see it from her eyes.

“It’s not a big deal. I bring you guys sweet treats all the time. This is called being nice.” you pointed, seating on one of the tables and sipping from your beverage.

JJ and Emily just exchanged an amused look. Morgan took the seat to your right “So you don’t see it?”

You frowned “See what?”

“The heavy flirting. The lingering glances.” Emily started.

The completely unnecessary visits to our floor just to stop by at your desk. The excessive gifts.” JJ continued, looking pointedly at the cup you were currently sipping from.

“Oh. That.” you sighed.

“So you admit knowing he’s flirting with you?”

“Yes.” you stared blankly at Emily “So what?”

“So what? This ‘will they won’t they’ is dragging for too long.” JJ pointed.

“Wait, what? This isn’t… There isn’t… It's just harmless flirting.”

“Harmless flirting? Is this even a thing?” Morgan stared at you skeptically.

“Yes. You flirt with someone knowing it’s never going to happen between you. Ever. We do it to each other all the time…”

“Ouch?”

“Besides,” you kept going, not acknowledging his interruption “He’s just playing nice. There’s no actual interest involved.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Spencer muttered from his place at the couch, his eyes glued to the interrogation transcription. He felt the weight of everyone’s gaze on him, and stared back.

“Spill it out, kid.” Morgan begged, sounding way too amused with it.

“He stopped me in the parking lot a few weeks ago.” he started, fixing his glasses and shifting in his position, slightly overwhelmed with the attention. “He asked for advice on… Well, you.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” you whispered “And what did you tell him?”

Spencer shrugged “I didn’t know how to turn him down so I just started rambling facts and research regarding the scientific reasoning behind human relationship and the development of courtship. He eventually dropped it.” he gave everyone a closed-lips smile, seemingly proud of himself and amused.

“Wait, do you do this often? Ramble facts just so people leave you alone?” Hotch asked, glancing up from the tablet for the first time after you got in the break room. Spencer’s cheeks flushed in a deep red.

“Uh… No?”

Hotch surprisingly gave him a tight smile, but before anyone could get more into the revelation, JJ turned back to him, her eyebrows scrunched up together “Why didn’t you help him?”

Relief flooded through Spencer with the change of subject. He relaxed back into the couch, leaning back and crossing his fingers together like he always did when he was ready to discuss something he was certain about.

“I’ve seen her body language. She’s clearly not into him.”

“How so?” Morgan asked, doubfunded.

“Her eyes never linger on him, everytime he leaves the room it’s like he stops existing. Every time they talk she smiles and makes sure she listens, but her torso is almost every time leaning away from him, like she’s ready to go as soon as the conversation is over. It’s not like she’s uninterested, it’s like… she’s not even considering him. Don’t get me wrong, I’m positive she likes him and enjoys his company. And her smiles, her jokes and her laughs are real, just not romantically-interested ones.”

“When did you become an expert in relationships?” Derek squinted his eyes at him.

“This is basic body language knowledge. Knowing about all this says less about my expertise on the subject than not knowing says about your profiling skills…”

“Watch it, kid.”

“He’s getting way too good at these jokes” Emily muttered, nodding in disapproval but her eyes a glint of pride “But back to the real issue?”

“The four cases of first degree murder that happened in the last month in Las Vegas?” you asked, not-so-subtly trying to bring the attention back to the case.

You knew where this was going, and you didn’t like it one bit.

“Why aren’t you interested in him?” she asked, deciding not to acknowledge your observation.

“Hmm” you stuttered “Uh, I-I’m not going to get all personal with my boss in the room.” you declared, taking a long sip from your drink to keep from looking at Hotch. You had no idea why you said that, honestly. Obviously, you had no problem getting all personal in front of him. Or under him. Or on top of him. Or even splayed out at your dining table, face down as up getting eaten out by him.

And he was aware of it. So aware that he had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from smiling and giving away your secret. It’s not like a single smile would be enough to give away everything that happened that night, but all it took was a little reaction for them to start picking up on you – they were profilers, after all. Hotch only decided he was safe enough from his own frivolity when he felt the taste of the blood from how hard he bit on.

“Oh, cut it. That’s hardly the reason.” JJ stated, crossing her arms.

“Wait, can we focus on the fact that there must be something incredibly wrong for her to be so uncharacteristically shy about this subject?” Emily pointed, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at you.

“I just… Don’t like being the centre of attention.” you tried, and it was probably the first time those words came out of your mouth.

“Ha! Busted!” Emily laughed, banging her palm against the table in excitement and pointed at you, accusingly “That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told us.” 

“Do you have any dirt on him? Like something so disgusting that you can’t even think about…” Derek tried, his smirk growing up at each word.

“No! Not at all!” you exclaimed, started to get pissed off.

“He’s hot, you can’t deny it.”

“He is.”

“He’s nice. Are you the kind of girl who always ends up running away from the guys who are ‘too nice’?” Emily groaned.

“No, I’m not. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“He’s hot, he’s nice…” JJ listed, once again ignoring your statements. You huffed in annoyment. “He’s tall, he’s responsible, he’s your age, he’s… Wait.” she stopped mid sentence, her face contorting in a smug smirk that almost made you hide under the desk.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until your lungs started to burn along with your cheeks.

JJ had her gaze locked onto yours from across the room, and it’s like she was reading every thought you ever had “We listed many things, many reasons to why you might not be attracted to him. You didn’t bat an eye to any of them… Until I said he’s your age. That’s the problem, right? You don’t like guys your age.”

The thought of banging your head against the table repeatedly until it split open didn’t sound that bad.

There were a thousand ways this could get worse.

“And judging by the fact that she didn’t want this to be discussed in front of Hotch, I’m assuming she’s into older guys.” Emily stated, exchanging fist bumps with JJ and Morgan.

“Don’t tell me you have a little crush on bossman over there. Or is it Rossi? Just tell me this: is Strauss also your type, yes or no?” 

Oh dear god.

You fucking knew it.

There were a thousand other ways this could've gotten worse. And that’s one of them.

“Morgan..” Hotch scolded, immediately interrupted by you.

“I have a gun, you motherfu…”

“Enough!” Hotch raised his voice, standing up. “Threatening to use your gun on a coworker could get your license removed.” he raised one eyebrow at you.

“Fine. I’ll kill myself then.” you dramatized, hiding your head under your folded arms over the table.

“This isn’t, in no way, shape or form, any better. Morgan, cut it out.” you heard him scold. “I have a meeting with the director now. Later I’ll meet you all, and the rest of the team, in the conference room. To discuss the case.” He added, eyeing everyone as if to dare them to go against his commands.

Said ‘all’ muttered some kind of agreement, to which you just groaned something unintelligible.

If you’d raised your head a few instant sooner, you would’ve caught the way Hotch’s lips turned into a discreet smirk just before he left the room. Way too pleased with himself. So damn pleased his mind had no space for worries and guilt.

taglist

@winyourheartemma

@midnghtprentiss

@s0urw00lf

@camihotchner

[hysteria-things]

Can you make a song image with the song older by Isabel LaRosa or even kiss me more with doja and sza?

NEEDY, ARE WE? (part two)

read part one here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the night started with only kisses, but you’ve never craved something so bad in your life. that something is your best friend chris sturniolo.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY ASF, swearing, begging kink, teasing, making out, oral (male & female receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (SON’T EVEN TRY IT), marking, finger sucking, choking, slight spanking, praising, degradation, stomach bulge, overstimulation, dumbification, cream pie, cockwarming

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,713

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for the 3 AM post… but hello🥰

y/n is a whiny bitch in this LMAO

“what did i say?” chris whispers sternly, smacking your hand away when it reaches down to his pajama pants string for the third time.

another fifteen minutes went by, and your panties are soaked from the orgasm that washed over you not long ago. chris’ dick fucking hurts, but he enjoys seeing this side of you: needy and desperate. “i’m begging you.” you pout. “i need you inside me. please.”

you seriously don’t know what’s gotten into you. you’d never thought of your best friend this way, but tonight feels different. you’re so dick-deprived that you’ve turned into a whiny mess.

he sighs in defeat, untying his pants and pulling them down. your eyes lock in on the boner in his boxers, beaming once his aching cock slaps against his stomach.

licking your lips, you go to hover over his tip, but he beats you to it and instead pushes your head down. you look up at him with sad eyes.

“what?” he questions, even though he knows the problem. he knows you meant inside you the other way, but what’s the fun in not teasing first? “you said you needed me inside you.”

“that’s not what i—” he cuts you off by pushing your head down, gagging when he forces himself down your throat. you hum, bobbing your head while his grip stays in your hair.

he chuckles, using his free hand to move the pieces of hair out of your face so he can see you looking up at him through hooded eyes. “you’re talking too much. if one of them wakes up you’re going to be in big trouble.” he points to his brothers who are still peacefully sleeping on the couch in front of you.

it doesn’t take long for your throat to morph into the shape of his dick. he licks his lips and smiles menacingly, seeing how you suck his cock so casually. your cheeks hollow, causing chris to exhale to not make a loud noise.

your tongue kitty licks his red tip, pre-cum threatening to spill out. starting to suck, your hand pumps up and down his shaft. his eyebrows furrow, mouth hanging open as he watches your every move. the grasp on your head loosens, and before you know it, chris is pulling you up to where you’re hovering over his lap.

taking his thumbs, he spreads your folds to see the glistening silk in the dim light. your arousal coats the inside of your thighs, some of it dripping down your leg. he takes his pointer finger and slowly moves it up your slit. you flinch at the feeling. “what a needy pussy.” he mumbles, his finger easily sliding into your cunt from the wetness.

you barely give him time to add another when you rut your hips repeatedly, fucking yourself on his fingers. you’ve never felt so pathetic in your life, but you also never felt so turned on. it’s like he read your mind. “pathetic slut; becoming stupid on just my fingers.”

the degrading nickname has you whining, only to start humping his hand faster. he looks as you sink perfectly on his digits… in and out, in and out, your pussy stretching the more you move until—

he removes the two fingers, now soaked with your juices. chris grabs your thighs, sliding his body down so now that his mouth is directly under your cunt. his dick twitches as he groans, seeing it at this angle.

immediately, he sits you down on his face and starts to eat you out like he’s on a time limit, which he technically is. the way his tongue moves so deliciously has you seeing stars, gasping and tugging at the brown strands that lay on his head.

“no, please.” you cry quietly. yes, you love the pleasure your body is going through, but this isn’t what you want. he’s teasing you to tears, and it’s making you sexually frustrated. nonetheless, it only makes you want him more. “th-this isn’t what i want.”

chris hums, making a tiny moan slip from the vibration. his hand gently smacks the outside of your thigh to remind you to keep quiet. “i’m sorry.” you mumble, shutting your eyes tight and biting down hard on your bottom lip that you won’t be surprised if it draws blood.

again a moan falls from your mouth, but this time it’s louder than before. his palm hits you harder this time, and you take your hand to cover your mouth instead. each time you twitch or try to move away from being so overstimulated, his nose still manages to nudge at just the right spot on your clit.

not only are your shoulders shaking from your sobs, but your legs quiver when you feel the heat in your lower belly. mumbling out a few words, chris lets out a questionable hum while speeding up his movements. he wants you to be loud and clear.

“i’m gonna cum, chris.” you cry, thanking every god out there that his brothers are the heaviest sleepers on earth.

he flattens his tongue, smiling in the process while your legs squeeze around his head, cum dripping down onto his tastebuds. a grunt leaves his throat, your pussy tasting exactly the way it’s supposed to. it’s by far the best meal he’s ever eaten.

sitting up again, you guys are back at the position you were at when this all started. chris enjoys the teasing, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can take. dick hard to the point where it hurts; pre-cum starting to leak from the tip. it’s unbearable.

eyes scanning his face, you bite your lip seductively. some strands stick to his forehead from the sweat, mouth is puffy and wet from your cum. how can you possibly be more horny? you have no idea.

leaning in, he pulls away when you’re centimeters apart. you pout, repeating the action when this time he turns his head with a chuckle. “stop teasing me.” you punch his chest lightly out of brattiness. “i need to get fucked by your cock. please, chris.”

raising his eyebrows, he smirks before grabbing your thighs that are still shaking from your high. “see? that wasn’t hard, now, was it?”

he helps you lift yourself to hover over his tip, his grip releasing from your flesh but still grazing it while you slowly start to sink onto his dick. your back arches, eyelids fluttering as you feel every crevice stretch from his size. it’s like your entire body was made for chris and chris only.

“—fucking birds stealing my shit.” the end of the sentence is a grumble, rustling coming from across the room. chris jumps into action and covers where you two are conjoined with your nightgown, being that you still have it on.

still, you decide to roll your hips, feeling his cock rubbing at your walls and insides just right. to keep a moan from coming, you nuzzle your head into his neck and bite at it.

nick sits up, eyes still closed but looking over nonetheless. “fucking birds.” he repeats.

“tell those birds, nick.” chris says, the hickey forming on his neck while you nibble down on another empty spot.

nick nods. “i’ll tell them. yeah, i’ll tell them. i’ll tell them…” then, he lays back down, the soft snores continuing as if he didn’t wake up at all.

you lift your head, chris now face to face with your tear-stained one. “wanna kiss you.” you whisper, starting to plop up and down on him. he doesn’t say anything, only grabs your throat gently to pull you in. from the way your tongues intertwine, you can taste yourself.

at this point, your bouncing so fast that whenever the couch starts to creak he has to grip on your ass for you to slow down. you whimper softly. “feels so good!”

“shit.” he exhales, mouth agape as he watches the bulge in your lower abdomen peek out whenever you sit, your pussy swallowing his fat cock whole. you were, without a doubt, fucking made for him.

accidentally letting out a scream when your g-spot gets hit, it’s cut off by the hand squeezing tighter around your throat. he glances at his brothers to make sure there are no signs of movement before speaking. “don’t have them wake up or we’re going to be in deep shit, and i won’t be able to fuck you again. is that what you want?”

“no!” you choke out, his thumb grazing your bottom lip while he looks at it.

“then you have to be quiet.”

without thinking, you nod and open your mouth, inviting his thumb inside for you to suck on. he smirks with a whisper. “that’s my good girl.”

he removes his thumb from your mouth, now holding your jaw in place. hickeys decorate one side of his neck.

you don’t know how long you’ve been going at it, but you can’t take it anymore. your breathing is becoming heavier the more his dick hits that angle inside you, eyes rolling back having your vision almost fade to black.

clenching so tight to the point where you could barely move up on him, your nth orgasm of the night washes over you, dripping down his thighs and onto the sofa. alas, you don’t make a peep, because you're chris’s good girl. you will always listen to him.

to ride out your high, you still move when you talk into his ear. “cum in me, please.” you gasp, your brain officially shutting off. your face portrays different waves of pleasure all at once, drool dribbling from your chin. you didn’t even notice releasing a-fucking-gain.

ropes of cum shoot up into you with a thrust of his hips, grunting each time he does so. he throws his head back with his eyes slammed shut, waiting ten seconds until he’s done planting his seed into your womb.

“thank you… thank you…” you repeat. he grabs your hips to lift you, but you whimper and nuzzle yourself closer.

exhausted is an understatement, hence why you fell asleep in mere seconds with his cock deep within your cunt. all chris can doze off to is think about how he has to clean this up before morning.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @tylerthecreatorsbf @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @selenascorner @sturnstvr @sturnclouds

[yuzeemin]

— I hope she buys you flowers

pairing: daniela avanzini x fem!reader - megan skiendiel x fem!reader

synopsis: after abandoning you like a lost puppy because she was bored and tired of you, daniela began to realize how much you mean to her.

warning: angst, swearing. men please dni! normal texts is present, small and italic texts are past.

wc: 1.5k

Daniela’s POV

Sitting here alone at our villa while watching the other girls have fun, and there she is, my girl, or should I say Megan's girl. She used to be mine, mine to keep and mine alone, and now she's someone's girl, and all because I was stupid, so stupid to let her go.

"Dani? Are you coming? Y/N's about to blow her cake," Sophia asked me while applying her sunscreen.

my hearts breaks a little when i hear your name~

‘Y/N Isabel Laforteza my leader’s baby sister’

"Uhm, no, I'll probably go to my room; my head's kinda heavy," I said, standing up. Sophia looks at me with her 'I know you're lying' look.

"Dani," she said while putting the sunscreen on her bag, she's about to say something when I cut her off, "Not now, Sophia, I'm not ready," I said. "Not ready? Not ready to what? Face what you used to have?" she said.

"Sophia, please stop!" I said, frustrated. "No, Dani! I'm so done with this; I'm so done with your attitude! you're being unreasonable!" she said, furious.

"I’m unreasonable? Wow! Do you want me to be happy for them? Do you want me to just accept that my band member stole my girlfriend and you guys supported her? You’re the one who’s unreasonable!”

"Are you hearing yourself? No one stole Y/N from you! You broke her and left her like a puppy! And I’m unreasonable? You left my sister, Daniela, not just anyone but my sister! And I’m here trying to set aside everything that you’ve done to my sister just for this fucking group! So don’t tell me that I’m unreasonable when I’m here trying my best to be your leader when God knows how much I want to murder you right now, so do what you want! Go to your room and be the selfish bitch you are; I’m done with you!" she said and left.

“Sophia, I'm sorry” I tried saying, but she slams the door. ‘Nice one, , Dani. You’re such a great fucking bitch.’

~

That I should've bought you flowers and held your hand ~

“Dani? Can you please buy me some roses? I really love them” Y/N said while looking at the flower shop near the park. “What? No! They’ll die anyway; I don’t want to waste my money,” I said while looking at my phone, not even glancing at her. “Oh, okay, sorry,” she said.

We walk at the park for a while when I felt her hand holding mine. “What are you doing? ” i asked while pulling my hands “i uhm, i just want to hold your hands” she said looking down

“Are you hearing yourself? You act like you’re not Sophia’s sister! What if someone saw us? I don’t want to be involved in a dating scandal, Y/N” I said furiously and walked away without even looking back.

“Dani, i’m sorry” i heard her but i just ignored her

~

“Happy birthday, baby!” Megan said and kissed Y/N’s cheeks,

“You guys are so disgustingly sweet! ”Lara said, “Please, Megan, stop kissing my sister in front of me!” Sophia said, pulling Y/N away from Megan,

“You’re such a cock blocker, Ate!” Y/N said, rolling her eyes, “Then stop kissing in front of me! ”Sophia said, “I’m just happy, okay? She bought me flowers; no one has done it before” Y/N said mumbling the last part.

“Dani? Can you please buy me some roses? I really love them”

“I bought you flowers for your graduation. ”Sophia complained, “That's different” Y/N said. “Yes, Sophia, it's different; you're so old” Lara said, making the rest laugh. “I am not! ” Sophia said earning a giggle from Y/N

“Yes you are, so if you excuse me, i want to hold my girlfriend’s hand” Megan said pulling Y/N

“I, um, I just want to hold your hands.”

“Are you hearing yourself? You act like you’re not Sophia’s sister! What if someone saw us? I don’t want to be involved in a dating scandal, Y/N”

‘She looks so happy, not the same way when she’s with me. I really messed up, huh?’

~

Now I'll never, never get to clean up the mess I made, oh and that haunts me every time I close my eyes~

“Y/N, let’s break up. I’m so tired, and I’m bored of this relationship,” I said, looking at Y/N.

“What? You’re joking, right? It’s not a good joke, Dani,” she said, looking confused.

“I’m not; I’m done with us,” I said and walked away.

“Dani, please! Let’s talk!” She begged while following me, and I just walked towards my car. “Dani, please! You don’t mean that! Let’s fix this, please! I’ll do anything!” She begged , but I just went inside my car and left, leaving her there. Like a puppy.

*72 missed calls from Bae

*5 missed calls from our leader

*9 missed calls from Megan

~

“You guys did so well!” Y/N said while hugging Yoonchae, We just finished our MAMA performance.

“Really? Did you take some video?”Yoonchae asked, “You bet she did; she probably has a Megan fan cam on her phone” Lara said.

“Hey! I have some of you guys, meanie” Y/N said, pouting, ‘cute’

“Hey! Stop bullying my girlfriend. If you guys want a fan cam of yours, find yourself a partner and leave my woman alone” Megan said, pulling Y/N.

‘I have a partner; she used to be. I used to have those fan cams.’

~

Now my baby's dancin', but she's dancin' with another man~

ding dong~

“Dani, can you open the door, please?” Sophia said. “Okay,” I said, and I walked towards the door. I opened the door and saw Y/N.

After 2 months of not seeing her and not hearing anything from her, she’s here standing in front of me.

“What are you doing here? I told you we’re done,” I said. I’m about to close the door when I heard Megan, “Sophia, is that Y/N? ”Megan asked Sophia, “I don’t know; Dani opened the door! ” Sophia shouted from the kitchen.

“Well, as you can see, Daniela. I’m not here for you,” she said. I was about to say something when Megan ran towards the door, not even glancing at me. “Y/N! You’re here so early. You said you’d pick me up at 6:30, and it’s only 6. The reservation was 7, right? Did i read it wrong? ”Megan asked, panicking,

“You didn't read it wrong, Megan; I was just excited for our date, so I’m here, and I want to go somewhere before we go to the restaurant,” Y/N said, giggling.

‘Date??’

“Okay, let’s go. Sophia, we’re leaving” Megan shouted. “Okay! Be safe; take care of my sister! ” Sophia shouted; Megan and Y/N just left like I wasn't there.

I closed the door and walked towards me and Manon’s room while thinking about what I heard: ‘date? They’re going on a date?’

“You look like someone who has seen a ghost,” Manon said, laughing. “They’re going on a date,” I said. “who? ”Manon asked, “Megan and Y/N” I said. “Oh, um, yeah” Manon said, making me look at her in disbelief.

“You knew? You fucking knew?”I asked Mad, “Well, everyone of us knew. They’ve been talking for a month now,” she said, not even looking at me, just focused on her phone.

“Are you guys fucking serious?”I asked, “Yeah, and I don’t see any problem with that” she said, glaring at me. “She’s my fucking ex. ”I said, “and? ”Manon asked, closing her phone, “She’s my ex, and you let her date Megan?'What the fuck is wrong with you all??”I shouted at her.

“What’s going on?”Lara asked confused while entering our room. “You guys happened. You fucking let my ex date my bandmate and didn't even tell me! ”I shouted at the both of them, “Hold on! Who the hell do you think you are for us to tell you everything? You’re just her ex!” Lara said and walked towards me.

“What’s going on here? I heard someone shouting. ” Sophia entered the room while Yoonchae walked behind her.

“Well, Dani here is mad because we did not tell her about your sister and Megan! ”Lara said, “Why would we tell you? You didn't even tell my sister a reasonable reason when you left her; do you think you still have a right to know about it? ”Sophia said, looking at me in disbelief.

“Wow? So you’re teaming up now?”I said, laughing, “We're not; we just happened to use our brains, not like you! Who just left my sister in the park without any explanation, and now you’re mad because we did not tell you about her and Megan?” Sophia walks toward me. “Listen here, Daniela. Stay fucking away from my sister” Sophia said before walking out of the room, followed by the rest.

~

“Daniela, can we talk?”Y/N asked, “Of course” I said, and she sat in front of me.

“I just want to thank you,” she said, making me confused. “What do you mean? I didn't do anything” i asked confused

“Exactly, that’s why I’m thanking you. Thank you for abandoning me, because if you didn’t, I wouldn't be with Megan, right now. I won’t be happy the same way I am now, so thank you” she said before standing up.

“I’m too late, huh? ”I asked, she looks at me before smiling, “You’re far from being late, you’re done” she said before leaving me, leaving me the same way I did.

Oh, I know I'm probably much too late To try and apologize for my mistakes

tags: @cwpiqwon

[mustelidsinlove]

Dramione one shots that are never far from my thoughts

[in no particular order; mind the tags — some of these are dark]

As Sharp as Any Thorn by Argosy [E, 8.8k]

The road to redemption is a winding one. Christmas at Grimmauld Place, Post HBP.

Art: Night and Her Daughter Sleep (detail), Mary L. Macomber, 1902

Scenes from a Marriage by hiddenhibernian [T, 5.4k]

They say love isn't about what you say, it's what you do. If you see it that way, Hermione doesn't have any reason to complain.

Art: The Lovers, Akseli Gallen-Kallela, c. 1907-1917

Grit by witchsoup [T, 4k]

Hermione attempts to diagnose a secretive patient suffering major curse damage.

Art: Hands Grasping 7, Susan Manspeizer, 2018

remedia amoris by magneticwave [M, 14.7k]

The most amazing thing about Malfoy is not that he managed to build a successful Ministry career out of the total disgrace of his family, but that somehow Hermione only despises him half of the time that they work together.

Art: Circe Offering up the Cup to Ulysses (detail), John William Waterhouse, 1891

Inside by onebedtorulethemall [M, 7.5k]

Something is wrong with Draco Malfoy.

Art: Illustration from The West Wing, Edward Gorey, 1963

With Teeth by provocative_envy [M, 5.4k]

Albus Dumbledore had been wrong about Voldemort’s horcruxes.

Art: Escape Before the Dawn, Devinez, 2023

On the Virtues of Inexhaustible Burning by PacificRimbaud [T, 5k]

In which Draco Malfoy wrestles geology and Hermione receives several gifts.

Art: Saint Augustine (detail), Philippe de Champaigne, c. 1645-1650

I am Sleeping on a Time Bomb by i forgot to blink [M, 4k]

The war is over, and they go to Antarctica.

Art: Barne Glacier, Herbert Pointing, 1911

Tromp as Writ by a_rum_of_one's_own [E, 7.2k]

‘Merlin and Morgana, what’s that?’ he breathed. ‘Muggle underwear. We’re beyond chemises, you know.’ ‘Granger,’ he said. ‘Granger. You can’t. This isn’t fair.'

Art: Saturnina Canaleta de Girona (detail), Federico de Madrazo y Kuntz, 1856

Reset by provocative_envy [M, 4.5k]

And the fear—the fear that he’s learned to swallow, choke on, bury the crushed and fragmented shards of—it's turning the space between him and her and the last six weeks, the last six months, into a gaping yawning brutally invincible chasm; a wall to scale and a cliff to jump and a step he’s never quite been brave enough to take. She takes it for him. Of course she does.

Art: Joan of Arc, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1882

Chiaroscuro by ifyouwereamelody [T, 5.1k]

Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts for sixth year a changed man. Marked, dangerous, and tasked with something terrible, he finds himself haunted by memories of the year before — a bright spark of connection that now he's got no choice but to douse.

Art: Vengeance is Sworn (detail) from the Revenge Triptych, Francesco Hayez, 1851

The Street Where You Live by scullyvasan [T, 10.5k]

Muggle childhood AU. Single mother Narcissa Malfoy co-parents her son Draco and functionally parents the little girl down the street. Light homages to Books 1-4 but no wands, no wizards, no Hogwarts — just human magic and the passing years at work.

Art: Daydreams, Thomas Couture, 1859

The Running Club by winterwells [E, 10.4k]

Hermione returns to Hogwarts for the "Seventh Year Was A Cluster F*** So Let's All Do It Again!" year. The war has left its mark, and she copes in the best way she can. Running. And she might pick up some stragglers along the way...

Art: Stripes of Silence, Lu Guada, 2012

Whistle by witchsoup [T, 1.5k]

Hermione spends the majority of her time on the tube, or dashing around Sainsbury's hunting for the last of the vegetarian wraps for her two-thirds-complete meal deal. Though it would be somewhat off-brand, she feels that it's well within her rights to ask David Cameron to lower the price of a meal deal, while he's at it. Possibly her rent, too.

Art: Untitled, Isabel Bishop, c. 1940s-1960s

Lights Out by Phoebe [E, 10.2k]

She smiles, and it enrages him further. Granger is afraid of many things. She's afraid of what lies outside Hogwarts, what could be lurking within the walls. She's afraid of Voldemort, and probably of his father. And she is inexplicably, illogically afraid of the dark. But she's not afraid of him.

Art: The Woman with the Candle (detail), Cornelis Visscher II, c. 1643-1658

Salvage by storycat9 [T, 1k]

Who is Hermione Granger when there’s no one left to protect?

Art: After Igor Svyatoslavich's fighting with the Cumans, Viktor Vasnetsov, 1880

The Object Lesson by Fleurizel [M, 13.6k]

When Hermione is forced to spend a weekend at the Bulstrodes’ country estate glad-handing for the Ministry, she finds an unlikely ally in the only other house guest who hadn’t fled the country when the war broke out: Draco Malfoy.

Art: Hands of the Puppeteer, Mexico City, Tina Modotti, 1929

i think i've seen this film before by magneticwave [T, 24.8k]

It doesn’t occur to Harry until supper that night, while Luna makes a Spanish tortilla with pink and blue potatoes from her garden, that Granger might actually be his friend now. Not just a transferable friend, comfortable with him because she’d grown up with a strangely domestic alternative version of him with short hair, but a real friend. Since he’s not sure how to feel about it, he eats his half of the tortilla in a silent daze and then helps Luna go over the last of the proofs for next week’s Quibbler. 

Art: Still Life with Orange by Süleyman Seyyid Bey, c. 1900

Party Lines by PacificRimbaud [E, 10k]

As the dust settles in the 2000 United States Presidential election, Ivy League student Hermione Granger goes to three different parties, in an effort to think about something- anything- other than the state of Florida. So does that argumentative trust fund prick, Draco Malfoy. A college AU all about enemies who...aren't.

Art: Jasper Johns, Edisto Beach, Ugo Mulas, 1964

i have gone at dusk through narrow streets by i forgot to blink [T, 4k]

Draco, Hermione, and what came before and after the end.

Art: Interior Strandgade 30, Vilhelm Hammershøi, 1901

Breathe by Argosy [T, 14.5k]

The war is over and everyone wants something from Hermione. But that's nothing new; she can handle it. Really.

Art: Cupid and Psyché (detail), François Gérard, 1798

[tatoda]

Guitar Pick 2 || college!conrad x fem reader

masterlist

request

part 1

summary: conrad brings you to cousins, everyone knows about your relationship except belly, who has a huge crush on conrad

pairing: college!conrad x fem!reader

warnings: angst, ends with fluff, jealous belly, steven being a good best friend

wc: 2.2k

here’s part 2 :)i changed it up from the request! i hope y’all enjoy im writing some more pieces for y’all !! i ended up not putting smut i hope you understand.

It’s been almost 10 months with conrad. After he asked you out at college, you both instantly hit it off. You learned all about his life and how he grew up in a home with his mom having cancer and her passing away last year and his dad cheating on her. But soon enough after he was a quiet guy he thought it was time to start opening up. He learned about your family and how they always didn’t believe in you so you proved them wrong. He has never been happier.

You met steven and jeremiah one night they came to visit you and conrad. And you instantly hit it off with them, especially steven. He became one of your closest friends when you hung out with him, conrad, and jeremiah. It was a fully platonic friendship. He was there for you and you were there for him. Conrad enjoyed that you got along with them so well. You 4 hung out as much as possible and they loved you and were happy conrad finally found someone that made him happy.

Conrad invited you to his beach house for the first time. He always talked about it and offered for you to come, but you didn’t wanna intrude. You finally said yes to visiting, one problem. Isabel, or as he calls her Belly, had a huge crush on conrad. Since they were kids. He never liked her back, never thought of her that way, but everyone knew that she was in love with him. And here he was bringing you to the one place she was at. One condition, conrad and you both decided to act as friends at cousins so he could break the news easily to her. So your mission was to act as just friends as possible.

“sorry about the whole belly situation.” conrad’s hand rested on your thigh his fingers tapping against your skin

“no, no. it’s okay i understand, you don’t want to hurt her.” you turned your head and smiled at him

“i promise i’ll tell her.” that was the last thing he said before pulling into the driveway behind steven’s car

You didn’t know what to expect. You felt as if he grew up with her his whole life that there had to be some sort of feelings he felt for her. To be honest you didn’t know what to think

When you both got to the front door of the house he looked back at you once more before entering. This was gonna be something for sure.

“hello!” conrad yelled throughout the house

“connie” laurel— who you have seen in pictures— walks around the corner from the kitchen and pulls him into a hug before turning to you “and you must be y/n! i’m so glad conrad found a friend at Brown.” she smiled at you “he keeps to himself too much.”

“laurel.” he let out a warning tone before footsteps from upstairs banged against the floor

“y/n!” steven yelled and ran down the stairs pulling you into a hug and then resting his arm over your shoulder “mom this is who i was telling you about.” it then hit her who you really were

“oh my you’re conrad’s-“ she was cut off by belly coming around the corner

“hey conrad.” she was pretty, so much prettier in person. it made you insecure to see how perfect she was and you weren’t, he looked like he belonged with her. steven felt you shift under his arm

“i’ll show you the guest bedroom.” you didn’t say anything but followed him upstairs and saw belly get on her tippy toes to hug your boyfriend

“is that y/n?” belly questioned stepping back and you lost sight of them only hearing them now

“yeah, yeah. steven and jere thought it was a good idea to invite her because she’s been really good friends with us.

“are she and steven a thing?” you looked at steven and he almost burst out laughing but put a hand over his mouth

“fuck no,” he responded laughing and you entered the guest bedroom

“i’m sorry about him,” he admitted as you put your stuff on the bed

“it’s for the best, i guess.” you softly smiled at him “i might just take a nap until dinner, it was a long drive.”

“are you sure? we were going to go surfing?”

“no i’ll just sleep.” he nodded before leaving the room and your insecurities and sadness stayed with you

Conrad checked on you before going surfing to see you sleeping and he didn’t want to bother you. So here he was sitting on his surfboard with jere and steven.

“was she okay?” he questioned

“you’re seriously asking that?” steven laughed

“man, you know she’s not okay. i know that and i haven’t even seen her.” jeremiah splashed water around and conrad looked down at a bracelet you made him on your 3 month anniversary

“dude how would you feel, put it into perspective. if she told you, you had to act as her friend around someone who was her childhood— put that in your head— a childhood friend who was a guy and had a crush on her and she told you just to be friends around him. how would you feel?” steven looked at him as conrad messed with the bracelet before looking up at his best friend

“i’m so shitty.”

“glad that got into your small brain.” steven scoffed. “she’s the best thing that’s happened to you since your mom's death, she has made all of us happy but you especially. don’t lose that con. because what i saw in the guest bedroom was an insecure girl scared her boyfriend was going to leave her.”

You walked downstairs softly hoping belly wasn’t down there. You didn’t know if you could handle trying to act in front of her. Walking into the kitchen Laurel was measuring stuff for dinner. She looked up and smiled

“hi, y/n. the boys are surfing you’re welcome to stay and help me or watch tv. whatever you want.”

“I’d love to help you if that's okay?” laurel seemed surprised no one has ever helped her with dinner

“i’d love that. could you chop the lettuce?” she pointed to it on the cutting board

“of course, let me wash my hands.” you washed your hands and sat down at the bar starting to cut the lettuce

“don’t worry, belly went out to meet up with some girls from last year's deb ball to the boardwalk, she shouldn’t be back for the next few hours.” laurel looked down at her phone, “life 360 says she’s there right now, you can relax.” your shoulders slumped down

“i’m sorry laurel, i just don’t know what to do. belly is in love with him and it’s just a lot.”

“steven told me that he’s making you act as friends?” you nodded

“i just agreed with him, i didn’t want to upset him. and i always wanted to visit here, he told me many stories of your families and susannah.” sadness reached her eyes when you said that name

“i’m glad you came. she would love you.” she moved some ingredients to the side leaning against the counter, “steven told me about you, i just didn’t know you were you when you walked in. he told me how he has never seen conrad like this before, the smiling and the happiness. his mom's death really affected him, it affected all of us but he had the worst.”

“yeah, he’s really great. i can see when his shield is up, the car ride here he was nervous. he doesn’t wanna hurt belly.”

“she will get over it, her and jeremiah are meant for each other. susannah has known from the start.” the back door opened and the guys walked in with towels, conrad looked amazing and you always melted when he didn’t have a shirt on “hey boys, dinner will be ready in like 2 hours, belly’s out with friends.” she said that last part looking at conrad and you turned to continue chopping the lettuce

“thanks, mom, love you!” steven yelled walking up the stairs and jere followed which left one body lingering

“i’m going to go grab something from my bedroom.” laurel made an escape. conrad leaned down into you and kissed your head, which he knew you loved

“just one night, okay baby?” you looked up and him and nodded “i’m really sorry.” the heat of his breath fanned your face

“is okay,” you whispered leaning up to kiss him and he grabbed the side of your face kissing you deeper before moving his head back

“i’m gonna tell her tonight, okay?” laurel came back down the stairs winking at you

“conrad go get ready for dinner.”

“yes ma’am.” he kissed you once more and took off upstairs

Dinner went okay. There wasn’t much talking going around the table. You sat next to conrad and belly was across from him. When you looked down at your plate you could feel her eyes on you and then on conrad. Steven talked most of dinner about his new job at the county club which everyone listened.

“so y/n, you have a boyfriend back home?” belly’s question made your head pop up and you put your fork down nervously

“um, no. really not much time for that stuff with class happening.” you shifted and conrad moved his hand to rest on your thigh

“well it seems you have enough time to hang out with three guys,” she said back

“belly.” laurel said making belly sit back

“no, no. she’s right.” you smiled at the girl “my last relationship was rough, so i took a break from dating. he wasn’t the best and ruined a lot of things for me.” you truthfully said and conrad’s hand rubbed you softly knowing your past relationship

“oh, well i’m sorry.” belly looked around the table at everyone looking at her

“y/n actually plays almost every instrument!” steven put his glass down he took a sip of trying to change the subject

Dinner didn’t go on long after that. Everyone helped clean up everything and put things up before dessert. You were in the guest bedroom grabbing a sweatshirt and the door opened slightly as you see your boyfriend step through the door and walked towards you

“hey,” he stood in front of you and put his hands on your arms “you okay?” you nodded but didn’t say anything “it’s going to be okay.” he brought you closer and wrapped his arms around you kissing your forehead “look at me.” you lifted your head looking into his eyes “i love you.”

“i love you too.” he leaned down and kissed you softly but that didn’t last when a gasp came from the doorway and both of your heads looked to see belly standing there

“belly-“ conrad started to say but she cut him off

“um, dessert is ready.” she then hurried off

“i-“ he looked from you to the door then dropped his hands and took off after her making your heart drop

Of course, he would choose her. She’s the one that grew up with him his whole life. The one he got the see grown into a beautiful girl, prettier than you. She had a crush on him and was in love with him. There was no point, you felt like you were just a distraction at college, waiting for her.

You didn’t see where they went, and you didn’t go to the table for dessert. You took a walk down to the beach and down the shore before sitting down hugging your legs to your chest. As some tears went down your cheek. You didn’t want to be a second option.

You sat there for about 30 minutes before a body sat down next to you. And you knew it wasn’t your boyfriend but your best friend.

“he’s looking for you.” steven didn’t the same sitting position as you “belly’s pissed but you’re nothing compared to her, y/n.” you shook your head

“he ran after her,” you muttered into your arms

“to tell her that you were dating and didn’t want to hurt her.”

“i don’t know steven.” you looked at him

“i’ve never seen him the way he is with you. he’s happy, y/n. he talks about you 24/7 we have to ask him to shut up.” you softy laughed “he loves you. we have never seen him love anyone like you. he constantly texts me to ask me about you so he doesn’t seem a bother to you. he constantly tells us about the story of you guys meeting at the guitar store because he thinks if he didn’t find you after, he would be lost in his life. i have not seen a smile on him since susannah died, you brought it back.” you smiled down at the sand and steven’s phone went off with his ringtone for conrad

“i’ll answer.” you gestured towards the phone and he handed it to you and you swiped to answer

“steven, did you find her? fuck i’ve been looking everywhere man.” his voice cracked and you knew he was on the verge of tears “i need to find her-“

“conrad.” you stopped him and he let out s breath of relief

“y/n, baby. i’m so sorry.”

“it’s okay.”

“no, it’s not. i’m sorry, okay? i told her everything and she’s mad but i don’t care. i needed to be honest.” you heard a door close on his end “you left your phone here, you scared me when i came back to tell you, you weren’t here.”

“i needed some air, steven found me, i’m safe.” you smiled at steven “conrad i love you okay?” he chuckled

“i love you more, now please come home so we can have dessert.” you laughed

“on my way handsome.”

[sugawhaaa]

Now that I am not an anon anymore I have to share a Leeknow headcannon I have.

I think that (especially husband Lee Know) does those little sexy dances he does on you.

Whether you are just chilling on the couch and he just gives you a little lap dance or you guys are cooking something. Istg that man will do those moves and wiggle his eyebrows and wink at you while he does it.

There’s a reason the others said he has the most rizz (also I kinda hate the word rizz but idc rn)

Love ya💗🫶🏼

LEE KNOW ONE-SHOT

🍯•[your favorite]•🍯

Warnings//genre:: mentions knives (cooking) smut, lap dance (?) Oral (f rec) creampie, kitchen sex, praise and degradation

Pairing:: dom!husband!minho x sub!wife!reader

A/N:: HEHE okay so I've thought of this prompt before for minho (and other members) but I never committed to it bc it is such a hard prompt to write for in my opinion but since it was a request I had to. but I love stepping out of my comfort zone!! tbh best part of reqs is when I lowkey doubt if I can even finish writing the fic

Skz masterlist:: 🍯

🎧::

As much as Minho tries to act like he's all cool and stern he is a little manwhore for attention, especially attention from his lovely wife. You'll be anywhere and he's glancing up at you 24/7 and anytime he gets the chance to brush his shoe or arm up against you, he'll take it.

Currently you're in the kitchen, cutting up some vegetables for dinner as the pan sizzles beside you. Minho comes up behind you, pressing his body up against yours, and wraps his hands around your waist. "Smells good baby," He cooes in your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. "What is it?"

"You'll have to wait and see," You smirk and he rolls his eyes with a little huff. "That's what you always tell me," You shrug as Minho rolls off of you, leaning back against the counter next to you. You notice his staring gaze as you stay laser focused on mincing the vegetables to perfection.

"You're so hot when you're focused," He tilts his head as he continues to stare at you, eyes never wavering. "The way your eyes stay fixated, the slight furrow of your brows, the way your lips look so relaxed and natural," He rubs his thigh up against you as you try to focus. "C'mon baby, look at me," Minho raises his knee higher, brushing up against your inner thigh and you jump, the flow of your hands interrupted. You turn to look at him and there it is, the mischevious little grin.

"Minho," You say in a warning tone, like Minho was getting into something he wasn't supposed to.

"Mmm, yes?" He smiles, as if he was innocent.

"I'm trying to cook dinner," You sigh and he fake pouts before smirking.

"And I'm trying to get you all riled up, is it working?" He chuckles and you huff. He in fact was turning you on, way too much. You good feel the stir in your stomach, the excitement bubbling up and threatening to spill over and make you do something you'll regret. "Come on~ Dinner can wait," He takes your hand, plucking your fingers off the knife, before setting the knife down.

"You're so..." You try to come up with some kind of insult but the way he looks at you, that little grin and eyes full of promise and lust, you just can't resist. "Fine," You huff and turn off the stove and you watch as the smile spreads across his face.

"Yay!" He cheers before taking your hand, pulling you over to the dining table. He pulls out a chair. "Sit, sit," He encourages with that little grin and you know what you're in for.

"What do you have in mind?" You sit down and look up at him.

"Your favorite," He smirks and you look a little confused. What did he mean by your favorite? That could be a lot of things really. Suddenly the room filled with some of your favorite songs Minho plays during intimate hours and you thought that's what he meant by your favorite, but he started dancing. Not some kind of jig, a slow sensual dance that highlighted all of his best physical features. You found your eyes drawn to his hips. The way he moves them in a slow yet powerful thrust showcases his practice with such movement.

"Minho," You say under your breath, utterly inticed by his hypnotic and erotic dance.

"Shh, baby," he approaches you on your little throne, putting a hand to the head of the chair and the other to your lips. "Just watch, your eyes tell me everything," He trails his hands down to your thighs before grabbing your knees and parting your legs. You jump at the sudden urgency in his actions compared to his slow sensual dance. He makes quick work of your pants and panties. The music still rings in the back ground as his lips approach your aching core. He lifts your legs up onto his shoulders, making you slip down the chair a little.

Minho grins at your little gasp before bury his head between your legs, taking one long lick up your folds. A soft moan escapes your lips at the relief of his mouth on your throbbing pussy, but Minho doesn't keep it relaxing for long. He follows the pace of the music, as it gets more intense so does his methods, slurping and sucking on your folds.

"Minho!" You jump as his nose presses up against your clit as his tongue pokes in and out of your slit as far as it can. You grab a fistful of his hair as your head falls back, your chest heaving more and more with each moan. Minho brings his hands up to spread your folds a little more, pulling at the skin before sticking his tongue in deeper. You let out a little squeal as you feel his tongue rubbing up against your g-spot and his nose puts pressure against your clit. Your legs tremble with the intensity of your orgasm as the song comes to a perfect end.

Minho licks up your mess before pulling himself up to his feet, standing over you. As the next song begins he practically sits on top of you, grinding his bulge against your dripping cunt, soaking his pants in your wetness. You feel the throb of his cock, begging to be released.

"Do you want my cock baby?" He teases and you nod with a whimper.

"Yes, please," You look up at him as he grinds his hips against yours, following the music once again.

"You're gonna have to beg a little more than that angel," He chuckles and you whine at the torture of his cock being right there but not inside you.

"Please minho," You plead, tugging at his shirt like a kitten. He tilts his head as he looks down at you, seeming amused by your pleading tugs. "I-I need your cock, minho~" You whine, a little louder this time and he smirks, clearly loving this dynamic. You bring your hands down to his black jeans, kneading at the fabric separating the two of you.

"You're so cute when you beg," He chuckles before stepping back. He takes off his shirt in the slowest way possible, teasing you as every inch of fabric reveals more and more of his toned body. He then unbuckles his belt, sliding it out of the hoops before tossing it aside. His jeans then follow suit, left discarded to the side. "Get up darling," He takes your hand and pulls you up before bending you over the table. He runs a hand over the curve of your ass before leaning down, his cock pressing up against your thigh. "You're gonna take everything I'm gonna give you, right?"

"Yes," You whine softly making him chuckle lowly.

"Good girl," He pats your ass, not hard, but just as a form of praise. He rubs the head of his cock against your folds a few times before finally easing inside you. He nestles his cock nice and deep, resting there for a while as you moan softly. He begins to slowly move in and out of you, once again following the pace of the music, but each thrust is deep and hard, making the table jiggle. As you rest against the table your eyes roll back, your lip tucked between your teeth.

"Just like that," You moan, "It feels so good," Your voice is higher pitched than usual, showing your desperation and pleasure.

"Yeah? You like that?" He smirks, his voice taunting. "When I fuck deep," He punctuates his words with a deep thrust, your body jumping up the table.

"Fuck!" You bury your face into your arm. "Yes, please don't stop!" You cry out as his hips move faster. The thing about Minho's thrusts is that he doesn't just go fast and hard, he has a method to how he thrusts, almost like rolling his hips, so his cock rubs up against all the right places. You feel your legs begin to tremble again, shaking beneath you.

"You close baby?" He teases, whispering in your ear, "But we just started baby," He chuckles, his hand slithers around to your clit. "It's alright, I'll have plenty of time to tease you later tonight," He growls in your ear as he rubs your clit harder and faster. "c'mon baby, let it out," He encourages in a low voice as your head begins to spin. You feel the crash of your orgasm as you let out long and high pitched moans. "Good girl," He praises before letting out a groan, emptying inside you. "fuck, yes, take it baby," He buries himself inside you, riding out the waves of pleasure with you.

After catching your breath he pulls himself up and gently slips out of you. "There, how you feeling now?" He smiles as he watches you get up, your head spinning.

"Above the fucking clouds," you chuckle and he laughs at you.

"So what were you cooking?" He says as he walks over the counter, still naked, making you chuckle to yourself.

"I was going to surprise you with your favorite meal for dinner," you smile as you sit down on the chair. Minho puts on a little apron to cover himself before washing his hands and continuing to cook dinner for you.

"Gosh, well I guess I spoiled the surprise,"

[aswanlake]

a/n ; Tim Bradford Drabble because I literally hit a standstill and have shitty writer’s block right now and it’s killing me, yet somehow I managed to write this but none of the stories I’ve been trying to write for a week.

CW ; drugs , alcohol , abusive parents , gender neutral reader (I tried my best) , addiction , substance abuse , grief

“ Unit 7, we have a 10-101 down La Brea Avenue. Neighbors complained about loud noises coming from a house, potential 10-99. ” Bradford sighed as he heard the call come in from over the radio, reaching for it before bringing it to his lips and holding down the button. “ This is 7-Adam-21 . Show us responding . ”

He knew that neighborhood all too well, why? Well you. Your parents didn’t have enough money to send you to school so you were often hanging around the wrong type of crowd and he’d booked a few of the kids for their crimes but he took pity on you. You were never directly involved with anything so it was useless to charge you half the time and he knew that if you were arrested then you’d been in the station for days before your parents ever knew you were gone— by the time they did, they still wouldn’t have the bail money to get you out. Even if they did, it was probably spent on drugs.

Perhaps that’s why deep down he’d been letting you go, your parents reminded him of Isabel, a time where he watched her waste away and couldn’t do anything about it. He wanted to give you a chance, to pull you out of that life but every time he handed you a card, you walked in the either direction, like you didn’t want his help or you thought you didn’t need it. He hated it, but he knew the mentality well and something in him wouldn’t let him give up on you.

“ What’s up with you? You tensed up at the sound of the address. ” Lucy was quick, she knew him too well and could tell whenever something was wrong with him. He wanted to play it off, rolling his eyes and groaning. “ There’s nothing wrong with me. ” He said quickly but he hand tightening around the wheel only gave him away further. “ Don’t lie to me. What’s wrong? Do you know who lives there? ” Her voice was soft and smooth, honestly checking on him and not mocking him, she never did and yet for some reason he still expected it whenever it came to his emotions.

“ It’s a kid, and her parents. They’re addicts, spend on their money on drugs instead of sending their own kid to school. ” He paused, taking some time to actually calm down, if he went into this emotionally then it would only go downhill. “ They . . they remind me of her. I couldn’t just leave the kid alone with them, so I come around sometimes, give the kid some food and homework to do. Not sure if they actually do it. ” Tim couldn’t say Isabel’s name, not at least while they were working. It was still a sore subject, even though it had been such a long time and she’d gotten better.

Pulling up to the house had gone worse than he expected, he thought it was going to be calm, maybe a few noises but instead there was screaming and the sounds of bottles shattering. Indistinguishable yelling at someone came from the voice of a child and an older woman. “ This is 7-Adam-21, requesting immediate backup. Possible RA, standby . ” Tim and Lucy’s hands immediately went toward their weapons, they would have grabbed their batons but a weapon was obvious— or maybe he was acting too irrationally and just thought that a weapon was obvious.

It took two kicks to the door before it finally caved in on itself, revealing what Tim only hoped to have been fake. Your father with a shattered bottle in his hand obvious cuts and bruising on your body and your mother, and your mother for once in her life didn’t look high. She was in front of you, holding onto you for dear life, with her body forcibly in front, taking the brunt of the incident. “ You’re gonna hit them! They were just doing homework! God, why do you always have to be like this?! You asshole! My mother told me I should have left your ass in Texas! ”

Your eyes turned to the sound, immediately drawn to Tim’s face. You’d seen him plenty of times before but you didn’t think it would be for a situation like this. If anything you thought he’d forgotten you. “ Hands! Put the bottle down now or we’ll have to use force! ” Lucy’s voice was calm but stern, your hands immediately flew up even though she wasn’t talking to you, your mother however ignored the girl, still standing before you and refusing to move. Your father hadn’t moved yet, head ticking in the direction of the cops before rolling his eyes. “ You called the cops on me? Over an argument? Woman you’re so fucking annoying! Who cares what your mother said! You’re broke anyways, where the hell would you go? ” Your father’s voice was rough and rich with booze.

You hated the screaming, it was so overwhelming and put you in the verge of tears. You tried to be strong but it was killing you. Instead of holding your hands up they went over your ears now, flinching back from all the fighting. Tim nodded towards you and Lucy immediately took action while he tried to deal with your father. He was drunk off of his ass and filled with nothing but rage, swinging the cut bottle around like a manic because he was threatened. It sliced the top of Tim’s cheek and that’s where he lost it, disarming him with ease and throwing the man’s body up against the wall with such a force it made the pictures on the fireplace shake.

He could have been charged with excessive force but he’d blame it on the man being drunk and erratic. He handcuffed the father and at the sound of sirens from an ambulance was able to put him in the back of the shop, reading him his Miranda Rights until the door shut. Lucy unfortunately had to arrest your mother too, the amount of drugs she had on her wasn’t legal and despite her being your savior this time, it was clear that this was one of the few. She waited for another shop to show up, your mom and dad obviously couldn’t be in the same one, behind her your shaken body stood, clutching onto her side like you’d fly away until Tim came.

He didn’t speak, just simply reached his hand out, you took it, letting him walk you to an ambulance. “ They have to check you out. No one will touch you without me or you saying it’s ok, alright? ” He looked at you, your eyes were towards the ground but your head nodded. He helped you into the ambulance, body littered with bruises and cuts, some recent and some from weeks, even months ago that hadn’t been attended to correctly. “ We’re gonna have to take them to the hospital, some of these need an actual doctor’s approval. They may even have some internal bleeding from the bruising around their ribs. ”

He looked behind the medic, staring at your figure, you were clearly scared and now your legal guardians were in jail and couldn’t speak for you and your family didn’t have enough money for a lawyer. He was going to have to be your legal guardian, at least until they could find some family to take care of you. “ Take them. I’ll be right behind you. ” With his hands on his belt, he came back into your line of vision. You looked up, face now covered by bandages instead of bruises— at least they weren’t as obvious. “ We’re going to the hospital. I’ll be with you every step of the way. After that. . we’re going home. My home. I’m not leaving you again, kid. ”

(Dividers by @ferretmilkshakezzz )

© aswanlake do not copy, steal, translate, repost any of my works

[swanhaze]

ON THE BEACH — conrad fisher x reader

warnings: alcohol, swearing, yn is a mess, miscommunication, angst, slight hurt comfort

she stumbled through the sweaty bodies of people, her mind spiraling, the bottle of alcohol feeling heavy in her hand, this past year has been rough for yn, the love of her life dating her best friend, losing the house that she spent all her summers in, the women who was like her second mother dying.

it was bound to happen but it didn’t hurt any less, just like yn finding a full bottle of alcohol on the table and picking it up was bound to happen, hurt people do that sometimes.

the night air hits her when she walked out party, this was exactly what she needed, the late night breeze to bath her and wash away all her stress and hurt.

she lets out a sigh, closing her eyes feeling at peace for second, but that was interrupted when she opened her eyes to see two fishers and a conklin looking at her with not the best looking facial expressions.

“what happened?” she asks, her words slurring together, a product of the amount of alcohol that she’s had in the past hours.

there’s silence for a couple seconds that felt like hours, the six eyes of the three people looking at her in concern, it was obvious that she wasn’t it the right state of mind to be telling her this, especially when yn loved the beach house so much and losing it has been doing a toll on her.

the conklin girl is the first to speak up, “nothing, yn.” she says softly, trying her best to shake up yn, lately anything she says to yn angered the girl lately, it’s not like belly could blame her though.

yn stumbled down the steps, grabbing onto to jeremiah’s shoulder to stabilize herself, “it doesn’t seem like nothing.” she says, bringing the bottle to her lips.

she feels his eyes on her, the older fisher, but her clouded mind tries to ignore it, she can’t be weak.

“it’s nothing I promise.” belly says inching closer to her best friend hesitantly, are they even best friends anymore?, “hey, maybe you should take a break from the drinks.” she says raising her hand to take the already half way done bottle from yn.

yn brings her hand that holds the bottle away from belly’s reach, scowling at the girl, “why?” she asks, “don’t act like you’re a saint Isabel, that’s never gotten drunk before.” yn says implying to last summer.

the taller girl squeezed her eyes before opening them again, “that’s not what I’m saying.”

“that’s exactly what you’re saying.” yn says moving away from jeremiah’s shoulder, she knew that wasn’t what belly was saying, but her drunken mind wanted to pick a fight, something she couldn’t do all year, because she was pretending to be fine.

“because you’re belly conklin.” yn says tauntingly, “the girl that can’t do no harm, the saint that everyone loves, give it up for belly conklin everybody!” yn yells unexpectedly grabbing some attention of some of the people around them, they get waved off by conrad.

Jeremiah puts his hand on yn’s shoulder but she shrugs him off, “but you know who should be called the saint?” she asks sarcastically walking closer to the other girl, “me.” she points to her own chest. “because I never would’ve did what you did to me belly.” yn says tearfully, the hurt from the past year fills yn’s head as she tilts her head back to keep her tears at bay, “I would’ve never done that to you.”

“yn.” his voice fills her ears, a sense of concern is in his tone, it makes her feel weak, something that she never wants to be, but look at her now, drunk and almost in tears.

“what are you talking about yn?” Jeremiah cuts his brother off, but he knows what she’s talking about, everyone knows, all except conrad.

“nothing.” she says mocking the words that were said to her not to long ago, she then smiles her emotions doing a 360, “who cares, let’s have fun guys!” she exclaims, trying her best to take their minds off of the vulnerability that she just showed. “it’s a party!”

conrad finally inches closer to her, trying his best to take the bottle out of the intoxicated girl’s hands, “yn, belly’s right let’s take a break from the drink.”

she pushes his hand away, “no.” she whines stubbornly, backing away from him.

yn brings the bottle up to the sky and smiles, “let’s make a toast guys.” she says stumbling backwards, Jeremiah’s hand finding it’s way to her back immediately.

“let’s make a toast to…” she trails off looking up in thought, before her smile becomes bigger, “a toast to losing the beach house.” she jeered.

belly and jeremiah’s face fall even more if that’s possible at the girls words, conrad shaking his head disappointedly, disappointed that you would say that and even more disappointed that you let yourself get to this state.

she brings the bottle conrad’s face, only for it to be pushed away and she gives him a fake pout, “no toast?” she asks tauntingly.

“suite yourself.” she says brining to bottle to her lips.

she drunkenly walked away and yells out, “you guys are so boring!”, she takes another sip, “I’m going for a late night swim.”

the three watch her figure disappear into the night, “late night swim?” conrad whispers to himself in confusion.

her throat burns as she stumbles through the sand, heading towards the water that replicates a black hole, ready to suck her in.

she take of last big gulp of the alcohol before letting herself lay in the ocean, letting it take her away, only the sound of the waves filling her ears.

she finally feels at peace, she closes her eyes and lets all the hurt, stress and sorrow release from her, the waves wrapping around her like a cozy blanket, cradling her like how susannah would.

just as yn thought she had some peace, she feels herself being pulling from her blanket that is the waves and into the air, “what the hell yn!”

she’s thrown over the persons shoulder and out the water, she already knows who it is, and it’s makes her angry.

“let go of me!” she screams hitting his back repeatedly as he walks out the water, “you asshole!”

she feels herself being thrown on the sand and looks up at the oldest fisher, “why did you do that?” she demands.

“why did I do that?” he asks in shock, before pointing to the ocean behind him, “yn, you could’ve died! I just saved you.”

“I didn’t ask to be saved.” she said stubbornly as she got off the sand and stood up.

“what’s your problem?” he says, it sounds like he’s completely fed up.

“what do you mean?”

“wha-what do I mean?” he asks walking closer to the shorter girl, “yn you’ve been acting different since last summer, all you’ve done is ignore me and if you’re not ignoring me you’re giving snarky marks, you’ve been a brat all year.” he says pointing at her accusingly.

“I have not been a brat!” she raises her voice defensively.

“yes you have!” he yells back leaning down to her face.

“even if I was being a brat I have every right to be!”

“really yn?” he laughs sarcastically, “really? what’s your right for acting like a fucking brat.”

“-because I’m hurt!” she yells over him, pointing at her self, “I’m hurt that you would date my best friend knowing that I was in love with you!” a nasty sob is finding it’s way up her throat, everything that she’s pushed down from the last year finding it’s way up.

he inches closer to her, he looks at her like she spoke another language , she’s in love with him? “what are you talking about?” his voice is shaking, his hands are shaking.

“don’t make me repeat it.” she whimpers, this is what she was afraid off, she lets something out and she can’t stop.

“you’re in love with me?”

“why are you acting like you don’t know?”

“because I did’n-!”

“you didn’t know?! are you serious conrad?” she yells over his yells, “do you take me for an idiot? everyone knows, steven knew, jer knew, taylor knew, shayla knew, your mom knew, belly and steven’s mom knew, my mom knew!”

yn lets out a shaky breath, “belly knew.” she says letting a small cry out, she still can’t believe that her best friend would do that to her. “everyone knew conrad, you had to know!”

he shakes his head repeatedly, bringing her face closer to his chest, “I didn’t know.” he whimpers and repeats himself about ten times as she sobs into his chest. “do you know how hard it was to watch you two? so shameless, it felt like you didn’t care for my feelings at all.” she cries turning her face away, but he cups her face in his hands and turns her to face him.

“I’m so sorry yn, I didn’t know.” he says letting his thumbs wipe her cheeks, “this changes everything..” he trails off, “if I knew I would’ve…”

“you would’ve what!” she cuts him off, pulling away from his grasp.

“yeah you would’ve what conrad?!”

both conrad and yn snap their heads in the direction of the familiar voice.

belly stands in the sand her orange outfit making her stand out, she doesn’t look at yn, knowing she’ll cry if she looks at her broken best friend, “you would’ve what conrad?”

“belly…” he trails off.

“no,no you would’ve what? you would’ve dated yn?” she asks walking closer to the two.

“don’t do that…”

“no,no, you would’ve what? you would’ve dated her?”

“yes, I would’ve!”

belly and yn flinch at his outburst, he would’ve what? “and you would’ve never forgotten her corsage too right?”

yn shakes her head trying her beast to wrap her head around what just came out, the man that she’s been in love with her whole life’s mouth. “I… I need to go..” she says stumbling away from belly and conrad.

“wait yn!” conrad exclaimed reaching out for her.

“I’m sorry.” she says walking away, “I can’t right now… I’m tired.” she then walks into the night leaving her best friend and the love of her life in the beach.

[srue-on-fire]

Everything Comes Back To You

2. LIGHT IN THE DARK

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader Rating: General Audiences Title: Niall Horan's Flicker Summary: After Shannon leaves, surrendering custody of Christopher, Eddie is left to raise him alone under the weight of guilt and his parents’ judgment. You try to hold everything together, but love, frustration, and a bitter argument leave you both fractured and silent. Tags: childhood friends, temporarily unrequited love, angst, emotional hurt. Word Count: 1300

read on ao3 ~ part one | tumblr

🐟

The days slipped by in strange shapes. Some were heavy, dragging behind you like wet laundry. Others passed so fast you didn’t remember what you ate or said or did, only that it had been one more day without them.

No Christopher. No tiny sneakers on the welcome mat. No Eddie. No worn jacket tossed over your couch.

After the first week, it felt like holding onto numbers was a way to keep the pain alive —like checking the wound every morning to see if it still bled. And it always did. You’d wake up and your heart would ache the same way it did the day Maria told you they were gone.

So instead, you learned to exist again. You started filling your days with the kind of things that didn’t make space for grief —going to work, volunteering at community center, walking shelter dogs, baking muffins you didn’t eat. You’d learned how to keep busy without feeling better.

You stopped checking your phone after the second week. It didn’t help. Not when there was no missed call. No text. Not even a dumb meme Eddie would’ve sent when he didn’t know how to say he missed you. 

And oh fucking hell, did you miss him . 

You told yourself it was better this way. You told yourself this was what love looked like sometimes.

But you never stopped glancing at the crayon drawing still pinned under the fading fridge magnet. The pictures on your walls. In your phone.

Especially Christopher’s. His laughter haunted the corners of your house.

You missed the way his arms would wrap around your waist and squeeze with everything he had. You missed how he’d ask questions you weren’t ready to answer —like the time he asked ‘ why do grown-ups cry when they think nobody can hear them?’ when Shannon had a bad day and left him with you.  

You missed the little things. Friday evenings at the park. Making him pancakes shaped like dinosaurs or spacecrafts.

You missed your little boy.

🐟

It happened on a Wednesday.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, spilling orange light across the kitchen floor while you stood at the counter, chopping vegetables without much thought. The house was too quiet, save for the soft hum of the fridge and the click of the knife against the wooden board.

Your phone buzzed.

You glanced at it without much interest— then froze.

New text from: Abuela Isabella

Your heart stuttered. Then stopped entirely when you read the message.

Abuela Isabel Hi 🐟 I miss u Dont tell bisabuela ok

Your knife slipped against the cutting board. You barely noticed. You fumbled the phone into your wet, shaking hands, breath caught in your throat.

You Who is this?

Three dots blinked.

Abuela Isabel Its me Christopher 🙂

Your knees went weak. You braced yourself against the counter, exhaling sharply, pressing a hand to your chest. It took another few seconds before your brain rebooted and you scrambled to type a reply.

You Oh my god, kiddo I miss you too! Are you okay??

The reply was instant. 

Abuela Isabel Yes We have fish I miss pancakes

You Fish??

Abuela Isabel Yes real ones One is named noodle She is my best friend now

You laughed. It came out rough and wet and more like a sob than a sound of joy. You covered your mouth with your hand and sat down slowly at the kitchen table.

You I’m so glad you have Noodle. I bet she’s lucky to have you, too.

Abuela Isabel Is daddy okay? He says weird things Like he's glad I am his kid

You stared at the question. Your thumbs hovered above the keyboard, unmoving. It shouldn’t be a hard thing to answer. But it felt like holding a glass sculpture in your hands —too fragile, too sharp in the wrong places.

You He will be. He’s trying really hard, huh?

The reply came quicker this time.

Abuela Isabel Yes He runs a lot He says others are fast but he is faster I think he is like a superhero

You chuckled as more tears welled up. Of course, Christopher thought that. That kid was so proud of his dad, if only the dad knew it.

You I bet he is. I’m proud of him.

There was a pause. Just a few moments, but it felt like time stretched thin between each bubble of dots.

Abuela Isabel Are you mad at daddy? He told abuela that you fought Dont tell him I was listening ok

You stared at the question. Felt the echo of it hit somewhere deep in your chest, just under the bone. It wasn’t fair —that Christopher had to ask. That he was the one threading the needle between two broken hearts, trying to sew something back together with hands still learning to tie shoelaces.

You pressed your forehead to the table.

Then you typed.

You No, sweetheart. I could never stay mad at your dad.

You paused. Watched the cursor blink like it was holding its breath.

We just said things that hurt. But I still love him. Very much.

More dots. And then, 

Abuela Isabel I think he misses u too Like I go to sleep He sits on the porch and looks sad

You gripped the phone tighter and squeezed your eyes shut.

You I sit on the porch too. The light is flickering. I need to fix it.

Abuela Isabel There is a light here too But it is too bright I like the your porch better

You Me too. I miss you, Christopher. Every day.

Abuela Isabel Miss you too Ok I told Noodle u missed me She says hi

You smiled, watery. Imagining a fish tank perched on abuela’s sun room table, sunlight dancing on glass. Tiny fingerprints where he probably tried to chase the fish. It was calm and warm and so Christopher.

You Give her a cuddle for me. And tell her I said thanks for keeping you company.

You hesitated again. Then, careful, 

You Can you do something for me, mijo?

Abuela Isabel Ok

You Tell your dad to be kind to himself. Even when it’s hard.

There was a longer pause this time. You could picture him, tongue between his teeth, thinking hard like he always did when he felt like something was too big for just words.

Abuela Isabel I will But only if he lets me eat ice cream first

You laughed again. This time, it didn’t hurt as much.

Another beat.

Abuela Isabel Ok I need to go

You Alright. Love you, kiddo. Give Noodle a high five from me.

Abuela Isabel Ok She does not have hands But I will try I love you too 🐟💙

You laughed again. A soft, shaky thing. Your hand pressed over your heart like it might keep it from breaking wide open all over again.

You didn’t move after that. Just sat there, phone warm in your hand, the kitchen bathed in orange light. It smelled like cut vegetables and lemon and something like hope.

He was okay. He was okay. They were okay.

Maybe the wound hadn’t closed. Maybe it never would. But for the first time in weeks, it didn’t ache so loudly.

For now, there was hope.

And one little boy with a fish emoji who still knew exactly where to find you.

🐟

A/N: Thank you so much for the response on the first part, guys!

[dandylions101]

A slightly more hopeful musing on the takes I’ve seen around Levi’s ending:

I think calling it so completely sad and tragic, and that it would have been kinder to let him die, takes away from the true perseverance and strengths of Levi’s character. He is at his core a fundamentally caring person. Even if his drive is in service to a cause greater than himself, it still centres around trying his hardest to achieve the best for people. This discrepancy between his motivations and the projection of level detachment that he favours that is both his personality, and also a coping mechanism, sometimes distracts from the fact that he is very caring. Considering this, the main observation that leads to the idea that Levi’s ending is so bleakly tragic is that he loses so many of these people that he cares and fought for, that he’s alone. But he never loses all the people close to him, mainly the remaining 104th cadets.

And while that is a burden that probably will never entirely stop weighing heavily on him, I think it deflects from the fact that the only reason Levi seems to have disproportionately lost so many loved ones, is because he cares for so many people in the first place. He has more implied personal relationships than anyone in the show. We see him face tragedy after tragedy in his life, and the one thing he never stops doing is caring for people. Even after loss. Even after losing the people he’s loved before.

All this said, I think the reason his ending is more hopeful than usually understood is just that; Levi will never be truly alone. He will find more people to love and care for cause that’s just who he is. It’s what we see him do time and time again. First with Isabel and Furlan (and even Kenny to an extent) after losing his mother. Then with Erwin and the scouts after losing them. And then with the New Squad Levi and even the new scouts (thinking him killing people he considered friends in that forest with Zeke) after losing his old friends, comrades and squad mates. And while very few of those characters survive to live with him another day, some do. This doesn’t make the loses any less. But it does show that crucial strength so integral to his character, the truth of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier. He will never stop loving or caring.

So after the dust has settled, and the loses mourned, I think Levi will do what Levi does best. Love and persevere. He’ll look after Gabi and Falco and all those annoying 104th cadets that are still with him, and eventually get bullied into letting them look after him too. He’ll have tea with Onyankapon and bitch at Yelena and start remembering the names of all these kids that he’s helping. Then, these families that now know his name too, for something other than bloodshed. He’ll get invitations to eat with them and maybe sometimes he’ll even take them. He’ll care for them and they’ll rally around him like people always do. He’s Captain Levi after all. And when he’s sharing some stories about his lost comrades with them, to keep their memory alive, he’ll realise he has stories about these people to one day take back to his old comrades too.

Cause death is not something anyone can escape, mortality still rules us all, and he will find those reunions in death eventually. But until then, I say it’s not a bad thing to let him put down those swords, and let him build for the people he’s come to care about, rather than kill.

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 2: April 2023

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: 

...I am definitely blown away by the reception this story got. I did not expect that AT ALL, so thank you very much...and here you have Chapter 2! Warnings: we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Bad Real Estate decisions, Max being a simp for his girl, discussion of former toxic relationships...I think that's it? If I missed something, let me know.

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

"Isabelle," Max murmured against her lips, his hands firm but steady on her waist.

She barely heard him. Not when he kissed her like this—slow and deep, his thumb brushing over her hip, his body warm and solid against hers. She curled her fingers into his shirt, pulling him closer, tilting her head to kiss him harder. When he groaned softly, she took it as encouragement, pressing up against him and reaching for the hem of his shirt.

But just as her fingers grazed the skin of his stomach, Max caught her wrist, pulling back slightly.

"Wait."

She blinked up at him, lips parted, breath uneven. "What?"

His hands slid from her waist to her arms, a soothing touch. "We don’t have to rush."

Isabelle frowned. "I know we don’t have to. But I want to."

Max exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "I don’t want you to think this is just about that."

She froze, her mind stuttering over his words. "What?"

He studied her carefully, thumb rubbing small circles into her skin. "I like you. A lot. And I want you to know that I’m serious about this."

Isabelle stared at him, something in her chest tightening. No one had ever said that to her before. Every other boyfriend had been eager, had expected, had—

She swallowed. "You don’t… want me?"

Max’s expression softened, his grip on her tightening just slightly, like he wanted to anchor her in place. "Of course I do," he said, voice low, almost reverent. "I just don’t want you to think that’s all I want."

Her breath hitched.

She had never been anyone’s priority. Never been someone who wasn’t easy to forget, easy to leave behind. But here was Max, the most wanted man on the grid, telling her he wanted her—but not just her body.

Something like disbelief flickered in her chest. "You’re serious."

Max huffed a quiet laugh, brushing his nose against hers. "Very."

Isabelle swallowed again, her throat tight, and let herself relax into him. She let herself believe him.

"Okay."

Max smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Good."

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Max.

Max:  Good morning, Schatje.

Isabelle: Don’t start. Did you actually buy that penthouse?

Max: Yes.

Isabelle: And did you demand that I be the only architect allowed to work on it??

Max: Yes.

Isabelle: Do you have any idea how bad this looks?

Max: What’s bad about wanting the best?

Isabelle: MAX.

Isabelle: Do you know what people at work are saying now??

Max: That I have excellent taste in architects?

Isabelle: They think I got this project because of Charles.

Max: … What?

Isabelle: Oh yeah. The rumors are great. Apparently, I’m here because I’m a Leclerc, not because I actually worked for it.

Max: … That’s stupid.

Isabelle: Tell that to my coworkers.

Max: You think I’d let Charles pick my architect?

Isabelle: No, but they don’t know that.

Max: Then tell them.

Isabelle: Oh sure, that’ll go well. “Actually, my brother had nothing to do with it, my boyfriend just demanded that I be the only one allowed to work on his project.” That sounds so much better.

Max: Ok, maybe that doesn’t help.

Isabelle: You think??

Max: I just wanted to work with you.

Isabelle: Yeah, and now people are whispering about nepotism and favoritism and how I’m only here because of my family name.

Max: They clearly don’t know you.

Isabelle: I KNOW. But it’s still frustrating. I’ve worked my ass off, Max. I didn’t want my name getting me jobs. I wanted my work to.

Max: And it has. That’s why I picked you. Not because of your name. Because I trust you.

Isabelle: You could have given me a heads-up, you know.

Max: And you would have said no.

Isabelle: That is not the point.

Max: But would you?

Isabelle:: …

Max: That’s what I thought.

Isabelle: You really bought that penthouse just so I could design it?

Max: I bought that penthouse because I liked it. But I only wanted you working on it.

Isabelle: You’re impossible.

Max: And you’re brilliant.

Isabelle: Thank you.

Max: Always.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: You are NOT going to believe what Max did.

Emilie: That sentence could mean literally anything.

Isabelle: He bought the penthouse. THE penthouse. The one we talked about once in passing.

Emilie: …Okay, that’s insane, but also, congrats? You love that place.

Isabelle: THAT’S NOT THE POINT.

Emilie: Oh, I think it is.

Isabelle: He also demanded that I be the architect working on it. Wouldn’t sign anything unless my name was on the project.

Emilie: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Isabelle: It’s not funny!

Emilie: No, it absolutely is.

Isabelle: People at work are already saying I only got the project because of Charles!

Emilie: Oh. Yeah, I can see that.

Isabelle: Which is wrong. Because I didn’t get it because of Charles. I got it because of my boyfriend, which is somehow worse.

Emilie: You say worse. I say deeply, deeply romantic.

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: Isabelle. 

Emilie: Your rich, lovesick boyfriend is out here spending millions just to have an excuse to see you every day, and you’re MAD?

Isabelle: I AM TRYING TO BE PROFESSIONAL.

Emilie: He is trying to wife you.

Isabelle: I hate you.

Emilie: No, you don’t. Now tell me—when’s the housewarming, and how much champagne should I bring?

***

Instagram Story – @/isabelleleclerc

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: You CANNOT keep doing this.

Max: Doing what?

Isabelle: Abusing your “professional client” status to drag me to fancy lunches.

Max: I’m not abusing anything. We have important business discussions to conduct.

Isabelle: You mean the penthouse where you’ve approved every single one of my plans without question?

Max: Exactly. We need to make sure I have no doubts.

Isabelle: You just want an excuse to take me to a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Max: And?

Isabelle: That’s not how professional client-architect meetings work.

Max: It is when I’m the client.

Isabelle: Max.

Max: You don’t have to say yes.

Isabelle: …

Max: But you want to.

Isabelle: That’s not the point.

Max: Just think of it as me paying you for your excellent work.

Isabelle: That’s what your actual payments are for.

Max: But those aren’t fun.

Isabelle: MAX.

Isabelle: People at work already think I got this job because of Charles. Now you’re making it worse.

Max: First of all, you got this job because you’re brilliant.

Max: Second, if they think that, they’re idiots.

Max: Third, I booked a table with a view.

Isabelle: Max.

Max: Don’t pretend you don’t want to come.

Isabelle: That’s not the point.

Max: You didn’t say no.

Isabelle: …

Max: I’ll see you at one.

Isabelle: I officially regret ever mentioning my favorite restaurants to you.

Max: That was your mistake, not mine.

Max: But I’ll make it up to you with dessert.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: You will not believe what Max is doing.

Emilie: Oh, this is already good. Go on.

Isabelle: He’s using the penthouse project as an excuse to take me to fancy lunches.

Emilie: …And the problem is???

Isabelle: Emilie. People at work already think I got this job because of Charles. If they find out I’m going to Michelin-starred restaurants in the middle of the day with a client, I will NEVER hear the end of it.

Emilie: Okay, but is he actually talking about the penthouse during these lunches?

Isabelle: He pretends to for about five minutes. Then he just orders my favourite foods for me and acts like we’re on a date.

Emilie: …So you’re saying you’re mad because your boyfriend is taking you on nice dates and feeding you good food?

Isabelle: THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

Emilie: Oh, I think it is the point.

Isabelle: I just—he’s impossible!

Emilie: What restaurant was it this time?

Isabelle: Le Louis XV.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle:

Emilie: You are sitting here complaining to me after being wined and dined at ALAIN DUCASSE’S RESTAURANT???

Isabelle: I AM TRYING TO BE PROFESSIONAL.

Emilie: Shut up and tell me what you ate!

***

Isabelle laid out fabric swatches on the table, neatly arranging them in rows. “These are the options for the curtains,” she said, keeping her voice professional. “I’ve chosen materials that complement the lighting and textures in the space while also being durable.”

Max picked up a swatch at random, turning it over like he’s actually considering it. “Yeah… so which one do you like best?”

Isabelle sighed. “That’s not the point, Max.”

“But it kind of is,” he countered, leaning back in his chair. “You know what looks good. I trust you.”

She exhaled, trying to keep the conversation on track. “My job isn’t to pick what I like, it’s to give you the best options based on your preferences and the space—”

“My preference,” Max interrupted, “is to not think too hard about curtain fabrics. So, tell me, which one would you put in your own place?”

She pressed her lips together but eventually pointed to a light cream fabric with a soft texture. “This one.”

Max immediately nodded. “Perfect. We’ll go with that.”

“That’s not how this works,” Isabelle protested.

“It is now.” He grinned, tapping the swatch like the decision is final.

She gave him a look but moves on, pulling out samples for the kitchen backsplash. “Alright, for the tiles—”

Max smirked. “What do you like best?”

Isabelle groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “You are impossible.”

Max chuckled, thoroughly enjoying himself. “I don’t see the problem. You have good taste. I want my place to look good. This seems like a win-win situation.”

Isabelle lifted her head, giving him a flat look. “Max.”

“Yes?”

“You are literally paying me to make these decisions for you based on your preferences, not mine.”

Max shrugged. “Yeah, but my main preference is trusting you.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “That’s not how this works.”

“It is when I’m the client.” His grin was infuriatingly smug.

Isabelle sighed, shaking her head, but she couldn’t quite hide the small smile creeping onto her face. “Fine. But if you hate something later, I’m telling everyone this was your fault.”

“I won’t hate it,” Max said easily, glancing at the tile samples. “So… which one would you use in your own kitchen?”

Isabelle groaned dramatically. “You are impossible.”

Max just smirked. “You already said that.”

Isabelle rubbed her temples like she’s trying to ward off a headache. “You know, most clients want a functional, cohesive design that suits their lifestyle.”

Max leant back against the kitchen island, watching her with amused eyes. “And I want a functional, cohesive design that you think looks good.”

“That’s not—” She exhaled sharply. “Okay, fine. I’d go with the marble option for the counters. It’s classic, it won’t date badly, and it works with the natural light in here.”

Max nodded like that’s exactly what he was going to pick anyway. “Perfect. Marble it is.”

Isabelle narrowed her eyes. “You’re just agreeing with me so I stop arguing with you.”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “Or maybe I actually value your opinion.”

She huffed, flipping through the fabric swatches again. “Alright, what about your bedroom curtains? Darker shades are better for blocking light in the mornings.”

Max hummed, looking over the options. “Which one do you like?”

“Max.”

“What? You just said you’re designing for functionality. You clearly think one of these is the best choice.”

She muttered something under her breath, then points at a deep navy fabric. “This one. It’ll keep the room dark, and it’s not too heavy for the space.”

“Done.”

Isabelle levelled him with a suspicious look. “You’re making this way too easy.”

Max shrugged. “I told you. I trust you.” He gestures around the penthouse. “Besides, I plan to spend most of my time here with you. Might as well make sure you don’t hate it.”

She stilled for half a second, but then rolls her eyes like she’s not affected. “Professionalism, Max.”

Max just smirked, reaching for another set of samples. “Alright, Miss Leclerc, what’s next?”

Isabelle pointedly ignored the way her stomach does an annoying little flip at his words and refocuses on the task at hand. She flipped open her notebook, determined to keep things professional. "We still need to finalize your living room furniture. You said you wanted a sectional, right?"

Max nodded, leaning slightly over her shoulder to glance at her notes. "Yeah, something big enough to stretch out on. And for the cats."

She glanced up at him. "And for guests?"

Max blinked. "I mean, sure. If I have guests."

Isabelle sighed. "Do you ever think about designing your space for other people?"

"I am thinking about other people," he countered easily. "I’m thinking about you. You like to sit in the corner with a book, so we should get one with a deep chaise. And you like soft blankets, so whatever fabric we pick needs to feel nice."

She stared at him for a beat too long. "You—" She shakes her head. "You notice a lot more than you let on."

Max shrugged. "I like watching you."

Isabelle blinked rapidly and turned back to her samples before he could see the flush creeping up her neck. Professionalism. She needed to focus.

"Okay," she said, clearing her throat. "Fabric choices for the sectional—"

Max leant forward, already grinning. "Which one do you like?"

Isabelle groaned, slamming her notebook shut. "You are impossible."

Max just laughed. "I’m making sure my designer is happy with her work. That’s important, right?"

"That’s not how this works."

"Sure it is," he said breezily, nudging her shoulder with his. "If you think this place should feel like me, then I think it should feel like you, too."

Isabelle gripped her pen a little too tightly. "You’re insufferable."

Max grinned. "And yet, here you are."

Isabelle exhaled slowly, flipping through the swatches with more force than necessary. “Fine. You want my opinion? This one.” She pulled out a deep green fabric, soft under her fingers. “It’s comfortable, durable, and it won’t clash with anything else.”

Max reaches out, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “It’s nice.” Then he grins. “You just like it because it’s your favourite colour.”

She paused. “That is not why I picked it.”

“Sure,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “But I remember you said you like green because it reminds you of home. And I want you to feel at home here.”

Isabelle’s fingers tighten around the fabric. “Max—”

“So, green it is,” he cut in before she can say anything else, grabbing the sample and setting it aside. Then he leans back, smug. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You have to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Acting like this apartment is for both of us.”

Max tilted his head. “Well, you are spending a lot of time here.”

“That’s because I’m working.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, unconvinced. “And when the project is done?”

Isabelle pressed her lips together, not wanting to answer that question. Because the truth is, she didn’t know. She didn’t want to think about finishing this penthouse and walking away.

Max must have sensed her hesitation because his expression softened. “You know, you don’t have to leave when it’s done.”

She swallowed, trying to ignore the way her heart pounds. “Max.”

“I’m just saying,” he said, voice light but eyes serious. “I don’t mind having you around.”

Isabelle forced herself to focus back on her notebook. Professionalism. Boundaries. She had to remember them.

But as she moved on to the next decision—choosing dining chairs—she couldn’t  help but feel like she’s already losing that battle.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Max is going to drive me insane.

Emilie: What did he do now?

Isabelle: He refuses to make a single decision about the penthouse. Not one.

Emilie: Oh, this is going to be good.

Isabelle: I showed him flooring samples, and he just said, “Which one do you like best, schatje?” I asked him about the kitchen walls, and he went, “I trust your taste.”

Emilie: He’s so in love with you, it’s actually disgusting.

Isabelle: EMILIE, I NEED HIM TO HAVE AN OPINION.

Emilie: He does. His opinion is that your opinion is the only one that matters.

Isabelle: That’s not how this works! He’s the one who has to live there!

Emilie: You will be the one living there with him, if he gets his way. He’s just pretending it’s not obvious.

Emilie: He’s setting up your future home together and letting you build it exactly the way you want. That man would let you paint the walls hot pink if it made you happy.

Emilie: He’s letting you pick everything because he wants you to feel at home.

Emilie: Tell me I’m wrong.

Isabelle: I hate you.

Emilie: No, you don’t. Now, if you suggested, hypothetically, that the whole kitchen should be neon green, how fast do you think he’d say yes?

Isabelle: He wouldn’t even hesitate.

Emilie: This man is whipped.

Emilie: He’s so gone for you. It’s actually hilarious.

Isabelle: This is a nightmare.

Emilie: Just be glad he’s not insisting on Red Bull colors.

Isabelle: I take it back. It could be worse.

***

Instagram Story – @/isabelleleclerc

****

"I think I’m falling in love with him."

Isabelle hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It just slipped out, quiet and uncertain, as she sat across from Emilie at their usual café.

Emilie, mid-sip of her drink, slowly set her cup down and arched an eyebrow. “No shit.”

Isabelle groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “I mean too fast,” she muttered. “It’s too fast.”

Emilie leaned back, unimpressed. “Define ‘too fast.’”

“I don’t know.” Isabelle exhaled, sitting up and fiddling with the edge of her napkin. “It’s like—I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For something to go wrong. For him to change.”

Emilie just stared at her for a long moment before sighing. “Belle. He’s treating you better than your own family ever did. That’s not ‘too fast.’ That’s just right.”

“That’s not—” Isabelle started, but Emilie held up a hand.

“Let’s review,” she said, counting on her fingers. “He listens to you. He remembers things you like. He makes time for you. He prioritizes you. That’s the bare minimum of what you deserve, Belle. And you know damn well you’ve never had it before.”

Isabelle swallowed hard.

Emilie���s expression softened. “Look, I get it. It’s scary when someone actually cares about you, especially when you’re used to being the afterthought. But Max? He’s not going anywhere. And you? You’re not falling too fast. You’re just finally being caught.”

Isabelle exhaled, staring down at her coffee.

“Also,” Emilie added, smirking, “you’re absolutely screwed, because I think you’ve been in love with him for weeks.”

Isabelle groaned again, and Emilie just laughed.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Emilie. I think something is wrong with Max.

Emilie: Oh god, what happened??

Isabelle: He just gave me flowers.

Emilie: …And???

Isabelle: There’s no occasion. No reason. He just handed them to me and said, “Thought you’d like these.”

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: And then he pulled out my favorite wine. Already chilled. Already opened. Just there.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: AND THEN he sat with me. No phone, no distractions, just me. He asked about my day. Actually listened.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING MY NAME.

Emilie: Because you’re being so stupidly loved and acting like it’s a problem.

Isabelle: I just don’t know what to do with it. I feel like I should be doing something in return??

Emilie: You are. You exist. You let him love you. That’s enough.

Isabelle: But I’ve never—no one’s ever—

Emilie: I know. But this is what it’s supposed to be like.

Isabelle: …It feels weird.

Emilie: You’ll get used to it.

Isabelle: Will I?

Emilie: Yeah. And then one day, it won’t feel weird at all. It’ll just feel like love.

Isabelle: …Huh.

Emilie: Huh, she says. Like I haven’t been telling her this for years.

Isabelle: Shut up.

Emilie: Nope. Now go drink your fancy wine and let your boyfriend adore you.

Isabelle: …Fine.

Emilie: That’s my girl.

***

Instagram Post – @/isabelleleclerc

Comments:

@/arthur_leclerc: ??? From who?

@/charles_leclerc: Since when do you get flowers??

@/emilie_abadie: 👀👀👀

@/F1GossipQueen: OMG IS ISABELLE SOFT LAUNCHING A BOYFRIEND???

↳@/paddockprincessx: We are watching this situation VERY closely.

@/leclercsiblingtea: The Leclerc brothers seem deeply unsettled by this turn of events. 

@/lorenzotl: Be honest. Did you buy these for yourself?

***

Isabelle wasn’t trying to snoop.

She was just tidying up a little while Max was in the kitchen—because, frankly, he lived like someone who was always on the road (which he was). That’s how she spotted the iPad on the coffee table, screen still on. She had only glanced at it in passing, but then something caught her eye.

French lessons.

Her first reaction was confusion. Then amusement. Then something warmer, something that made her heartbeat do something a little ridiculous in her chest.

“Max?” she called out, picking up the iPad.

“Yeah?” His voice floated back from the kitchen, followed by the sound of the fridge opening. “Do you want some water?”

She walked in, holding up the iPad like it was evidence in a trial. “Are you secretly moving to Paris?”

Max turned around, brow furrowing. “What?”

She waved the iPad at him. “Since when are you learning French?”

His face did not do a good job of hiding his guilt. His eyes flickered to the screen, then back to her, and he shifted on his feet like he was debating snatching it out of her hands. “Oh. That.”

“Yes, that.” Isabelle crossed her arms, fighting a smile. “What’s the story, Verstappen? Career change? Planning to start giving post-race interviews in French?”

Max sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I live in Monaco. Figured it was time I actually learned, you know, the main language people speak here.”

Isabelle narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“What?” He shrugged. “It makes sense.”

“It does make sense.” She took a step closer. “Except you’ve lived in Monaco for years and have never cared before.”

Max glanced at the iPad again, like it would somehow save him. When it didn’t, he exhaled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Fine. Maybe I had another reason.”

Isabelle raised an eyebrow. “And that reason is?”

His ears were turning pink. “You.”

She blinked. “Me?”

“You switch to French when you’re with your family,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at her. “Or when you’re distracted. Or when you get really excited about something. And I—I wanted to understand you better.”

Oh.

Oh.

Isabelle stared at him, warmth flooding her chest. “Max…”

He sighed again, clearly bracing himself for teasing. “Look, if you think it’s stupid—”

“I don’t,” she interrupted, her voice soft. “I think it’s… really sweet.”

Max relaxed slightly, still wary. “Yeah?”

She smiled. “Yeah.” Then she nudged him. “Okay, say something.”

He groaned. “Now?”

“Yes, now.”

Max hesitated. Then, after a deep breath, he said—slowly, carefully—“Je veux tout comprendre de toi.”

I want to understand everything about you.

Isabelle’s breath caught.

She looked up at him, and suddenly, the teasing was gone. Her heart was thudding, her fingers itching to reach for him. “Max.”

He shifted again. “Did I say it wrong?”

She shook her head. Then, without thinking, she leaned up and kissed him.

Max made a startled sound but recovered quickly, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer. When she finally pulled away, his grin was dazed.

“So,” he said, slightly breathless. “That was because of the French, huh?”

She laughed, tucking her head against his shoulder. “Guess you’ll have to keep practicing.”

Max tightened his hold on her. “Done.”

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Max is learning French.

Emilie: ???

Emilie: Like YOUR Max? The one who has lived in Monaco forever and has survived just fine with English and Dutch?

Isabelle: Yes!!!

Isabelle: I found his iPad open with some French lesson on it, and when I asked, he said he lives in Monaco so it was about time he learned.

Emilie: That… does make sense.

Isabelle: But then I pressed him, and he admitted he’s actually doing it because of ME.

Emilie: Oh.

Emilie: Ohhhh.

Emilie: Isabelle. He’s in LOVE love.

Isabelle: I don’t even know what to do with this information.

Emilie: Girl, you kiss him stupid, that’s what.

Isabelle: I already did that!!!

Emilie: Good. Keep doing it.

Emilie: Good for him. He’s putting in the effort. He’s out here grinding on Duolingo just to impress.

Isabelle: That’s what’s shocking me the most… Nobody has ever done that for me before.

Emilie: Well, he’s not just anybody, is he?

Isabelle: No. He’s Max.

Emilie: Exactly. And Max Verstappen? He doesn’t do anything halfway.

***

Text Messages:Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Need your help.

GP: If this is about strategy on a Monday at 11 in the evening, I’m hanging up.

Max: It’s not.

GP: Then what?

Max: Isabelle’s birthday is coming up. I need a gift.

GP: …You do realize just because I’m married, I’m not a fountain of romantic wisdom, right?

Max: Who else am I supposed to ask?

GP: Literally anyone else?

Max: You’re the only one I trust not to be an idiot about this.

GP: I feel like that was a compliment and an insult at the same time.

Max: Just help me.

GP: Alright, what are you thinking?

Max: Something personal. Not just perfume or a handbag.

GP: Already doing better than most.

Max: That’s a low bar.

GP: True. Jewelry? Something meaningful?

Max: I was thinking emeralds. Her birthstone. And it matches her eyes.

GP: …Wow. You’re actually in deep.

Max: Not the point.

GP: Sure, sure. Bracelet? Necklace? Something she can wear every day?

Max: Yeah. Probably a bracelet.

GP: Go for it. But just so you know, if you keep setting the bar this high, you’re making the rest of us look bad.

Max: Not my problem.

GP: Yeah, that tracks. Let me know what you pick.

Max: Will do. Thanks.

GP: Anytime. Just remember, I’m charging a consulting fee next time.

***

Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: This is Max. Isabelle’s Max.

Emilie: …Hello, Isabelle’s Max. To what do I owe the honor?

Max: I need help. It’s about Isabelle’s birthday.

Emilie: Go on.

Max: I need Isabelle’s wrist size.

Emilie: …What.

Max: Her wrist size.

Emilie: That’s it? No explanation? No context? Just casually asking for her wrist size like that’s a normal thing?

Max: Yes.

Emilie: I don’t trust you.

Max: That feels unnecessary.

Emilie: UNNECESSARY? MAX, I HAVE SPENT YEARS FIGHTING A LOSING BATTLE AGAINST HER FAMILY’S COMPLETE INABILITY TO GET HER A DECENT GIFT.

Max: …

Emilie: Charles once got her a Ferrari-branded umbrella. ”In case you ever come to a race and it rains.”

Max: …

Emilie: Arthur once got her a stuffed animal from an airport gift shop, because he nearly forgot entirely one year. Just straight-up forgot Belle had a birthday.

Max: …

Emilie: Lorenzo got her candle last year. A SINGLE. GENERIC. VANILLA. CANDLE. SHE DOESN’T EVEN LIKE VANILLLA; SHE GETS HEADACHES FROM IT.

Max: That’s actually embarrassing.

Emilie: Thank you. But I’m not done.

Max: Oh no.

Emilie: Their mother gave Isabelle a cookbook.

Max: That’s… not the worst?

Emilie: It was a diet cookbook.

Max: …

Max: What the hell.

Emilie: EXACTLY.

Max: And you’re saying this happens every year?

Emilie: EVERY. YEAR. Max, I have a Google Doc. I have an entire spreadsheet dedicated to “How to Make Sure Isabelle Actually Gets Something Nice.” I am fighting for my life out here.

Max: Not anymore.

Emilie: Wait.

Max: Attachment: Image of three emerald bracelets

Max: I’m thinking emeralds. It’s her birthstone. Matches her eyes.

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie: MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN.

Max: What.

Emilie: YOU ALREADY PICKED OUT OPTIONS???

Max: I was narrowing it down.

Emilie: NARROWING IT DOWN. LIKE A FUNCTIONING HUMAN MAN. LIKE SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY PUTS THOUGHT INTO GIFTS. LIKE SOMEONE WHO KNOWS HER FAVORITE GEMSTONE AND HOW IT MATCHES HER EYES.

Max: …Yes?

Emilie: DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW INFURIATING THIS IS FOR ME. I HAVE BEEN CARRYING THIS FAMILY.

Max: So you don’t know her wrist size?

Emilie: FIFTEEN CENTIMETERS. 

Max: Appreciate the help.

Emilie: Oh, and just for future reference—her ring size is 50.

Max: …

Max: Just for future reference?

Emilie: Just saying. You never know.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1GossipQueen: 🚨 UM. Just saw Max Verstappen in a jewelry store in Miami. He was looking at bracelets and asking about emeralds.

@/OversteerAndTears: Not me immediately googling “Max Verstappen girlfriend emerald jewelry” like I’m gonna find something.

@/SoftForMax: Max Verstappen. In a jewelry store. Asking about emeralds. Who is she.

@/F1GossipQueen: He was so serious about it too. Like asking the salesperson about different settings and cuts.

@/CheckeredHeart: SETTINGS??? DIFFERENT CUTS?!?!

@/F1GossipQueen: Yes!!! And he was like, “She likes emeralds, but I want something subtle.” Like WHO, MAX??

@/FastCarsAndDrama: “She likes emeralds.” SHE??? I’M GONNA THROW UP.

@/MaxIsMyGOAT: So we’re just casually learning that Max Verstappen not only has a girlfriend but knows her jewelry preferences well enough to mention them in a store???@/OrangeArmy82: Maybe it’s for his mom or sister. We don’t know it’s for a girlfriend.

[a-aexotic]

𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, chapter 2

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ! 1.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ! arguments all over the place, blair being a BITCH (not to you), um.. nothing else?

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! @serrendiipty

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➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. series masterlist. taglist. ❫

You stepped out of the Penthouse and were immediately met with a familiar brunette, staring back at you with a warm smile. You couldn't help but shake your head as you continued walking but of course that didn't stop Nate, he caught up with you.

"Good morning, uh... why are you in a rush?" Nate spoke, amusement lacing his voice before you stopped, sighing as you studied him. He was holding a coffee and a bagel from your favorite shop, they were obviously meant for you. Every morning before you left for Paris, you and Nate walked to the cafe by your homes before going to school. And now, he's here, standing at your doorstep, pretending like the last 9 months hadn't happened.

You finally met his gaze and felt your heart do a little flip. It was too early for this, you thought to yourself as you exhaled again. "Morning," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual despite the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you.

His presence was both comforting and unsettling, a reminder of the life you had left behind in New York.

His eyes were settled on you for a few moments before you spoke up again. "Nate, I'm trying to get to school, so..."

Nate's smile faltered slightly at your response, his eyes betraying a hint of hurt before he quickly masked it. "Right, of course," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "I just thought... I mean, I wanted to catch up with you."

"Nate," you exhaled, putting a hand on your hip as you stared back at him. "We can't do this again."

"Do what?" He let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "You're my best friend, I can't want to catch up with my best friend?"

"That's not all and you know it." You whispered, trying to keep calm.

He shook his head before meeting your gaze, his shoulders slumping. "I know," Nate admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know there's more, Y/N. And I know I messed up before. But I just... I miss you. I miss us."

"You have a girlfriend and she's my best friend." You spoke as Nate's eyes refused to meet yours. "You said yourself that you didn't want this."

"I never said that." Nate responded firmly, finally meeting your gaze. "Jesus, Y/N. I told you I loved you and you just... ignored me."

You scoffed. "Ignored you? What did you want me to say? Blair's my best friend and she's your girlfriend, Nate. And don't get me started, I kissed you and-and you pulled away."

"That was before-"

"Before what? And it doesn't matter anymore." You shouted, scoffing. "It doesn't matter anymore because I choose Blair, okay? And you should too."

"You sound like every other person, Y/N." Nate interjected, his voice tinged with frustration. "I thought out of all people, you'd understand."

"Nate, I can't do this right now. I have to go to school, okay?" You finally cut in, your tone firm as you stepped back, putting some distance between the two of you.

"Fine. We can talk later."

"There's nothing else to talk about, Nate." You responded firmly, not bothering to turn back. "Just leave it alone, okay?"

──౨ৎ──

Seated alongside Blair, Kati, and Isabel, you watched as Jenny, a freshman, proudly displayed the invitations she crafted for the upcoming "Kiss on the Lips" party on the Met's grand staircase. However, you were lost in your thoughts, still reeling from the recent argument with Nate just hours ago.

The image of Nate's hurt expression lingered in your mind, haunting you. Did you maybe be too hard on him? Did you ruin his morning? You knew you should be participating in the conversation, but your thoughts were consumed by the weight of the argument.

"Right, Y/N?" Blair turned to look at you with a slightly annoyed expression. You nodded slowly, not sure of what she said. Isabel and Kati let out giggles as Blair rolled her eyes. "I knew you weren't paying attention. I said that you were going to show up naked at the party."

"Sorry, Blair." You mumbled. "I'm just jetlagged." You lied through your teeth as you looked up at Jenny. "But the invites are pretty, great job Jenny."

"Yeah, they're not bad." Blair focused on the invites, going through them. "And here's yours, as promised." She hands her the invitation with a grin on her face.

"Thanks." Jenny replied with a sweet smile on her face, taking the invitation from Blair's hands.

You looked up and saw Serena approaching you two, a yogurt in her hands. "Hey. Here you guys are. I looked all over the dining hall for you."

She noticed Jenny and immediately reached out to shake her hand, "Oh, hi. I'm Serena."

"I know. I mean... hi, I'm Jenny." She flushed as you let out a laugh. She was adorable.

"So, when's the party?" Serena's question drew your attention back to her, her gaze now fixed on Blair as she picked up one of the invitations from the floor. The atmosphere shifted subtly, a silent exchange passing between Blair, Isabel, and Kati.

You watched as Blair looked back at her, shocked before her expression turned into amusement. "Saturday. And you're kinda not invited."

Your jaw slightly fell open as Blair and Serena glared at each other. "Blair-"

"Y/N." Blair redirected her focus to you, effectively halting any protests with a scoff.

"Until 12 hours ago, everyone thought you were at boarding school. Now, we're full and uh, Jenny used up all the invites." She explained as Isabel and Kati let out giggles. You exchanged a glance with Serena, unable to believe Blair and whatever she was trying to pull.

"Um, actually-"

"You can go now." Blair interrupted Jenny, causing her to immediate go quiet and begin walking away. Serena gave her a sympathetic smile before returning to Blair's gaze.

"Oh, come on, Blair." You spoke up finally, annoyance clear in your voice. "Don't be like that."

"Be like what?" Blair shot you a pointed glare, cutting off any further objections before you could voice them. The tension between you was palpable, but before anyone could speak, Serena intervened.

"No, it's okay. I got lots of stuff to do anyway." Serena said, maintaining eye contact with Blair as you attempted to mediate between them.

As Blair and the others swiftly packed up their belongings, you couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at the lack of empathy in Blair's demeanor. "Well, we should get going then. Unless you want us to wait for you... looks like you've got a lot of yogurt left,"

"No, go ahead." Serena remarked, her tone mirroring Blair's as they began to make their exit. You stood there a few moments but before you could begin speaking, Serena turned and spoke up.

"Blair, think we can meet tonight?" Serena's request hung in the air, the tension between them palpable as you watched them.

Blair's response was swift, though not without a hint of hesitation. "I'd love to... but I've got plans with Nate," she replied, her eyes meeting Serena's with feigned regret.

Serena's insistence did not waver, her resolve evident in her tone. "The Palace, 8 o'clock? Nate will wait."

Blair hesitated before she locked eyes with you before sighing. "I could probably do a half-hour."

"Thanks for making the time." Serena responded sarcastically.

"You're my best friend." Blair retorted in a similar tone, her words laced with a hint of bitterness. You watched as they all began to walk away, leaving you with Blair.

You met her gaze and gave a her a sympathetic look. "I'll talk to her."

But before Serena could respond, Blair's voice rang from the bottom of the stairs. "Y/N, come on. We're gonna be late!"

With a sigh, you turned to follow Blair, the weight of the tension lingering in the air like a heavy fog. As you walked alongside her, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach. The rift between Blair and Serena had only deepened, and you knew that mediating between them would be no easy task.

[leclercstars]

i’m craving something super angsty and max. like he and reader got into a fight and she left their apartment and got into an accident (someone hit her car while she was driving or someone ran into her while she was walking) and max doesn’t know that she’s been hurt for a few days until someone on the grid mentioned it to him and he grovels like his life depends on it to try and win her back. can end sad if you want

Woohoo another request fic!! This is a little different than what I usually write but I’m excited! Also I think I’ll turn it into a series. Anyways:

die for you

Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: mention of car crash, some cursing.

“This cannot be fucking happening right now,” you were pacing around the kitchen of your and Max’s high-rise, your head buried in your hands as tears of frustration threatened to ruin your makeup. Thunder boomed and rain pounded on the windows.

Max had just gotten home from being out last night. It was 2 p.m.. The next day. You rarely felt this sort of anger towards him- but how could betray your trust like that? He swore up and down that he had accidentally fallen asleep at the after-party Charles had, but how could you be sure?

“Baby please you have to believe me,” his voice getting louder and louder as his frustration grew.

“I can’t! I can’t believe you! You slept at CHARLES? UNTIL TWO? It makes no sense especially since you usually don’t even drink that much.” tears were now spilling out of your eyes and your voice had taken on a tone you hadn’t even heard before.

“I’m sleeping at Isabelle’s tonight.” you said matter of factly.

Max sat on the couch, head in hands, too stunned to even move. What had he done? He knew why she was upset- and didn’t really expect her to believe his story. He hadn’t been answering her texts or calls last night either because his phone died- which certainly didn’t help the situation.

She left without so much as a goodbye. He might’ve just lost the best thing he ever had.

A week had passed now, without so much as a call or text from her. He had never felt so sick in his life, the heartbreak taking a toll on his physical health. Her stuff still lay scattered around the apartment- constant reminders of her presence that haunted him daily.

Max was hanging around the paddock the Thursday before the Monaco Grand Prix, chatting with all of his fellow drivers. He was sure that he was doing a poor job of hiding his down-trodden state.

“Did you hear about that massive wreck that happened the other day?” Daniel posed the question to the group. Everyone gave various sentiments of shock- talking about how the people involved were lucky to get out alive.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Max snapped.

“Dude, your girlfriend was literally involved. How do you not know? Did she not tell you? She’s going to make a full recovery reportedly.” Daniel replied back with genuine confusion.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The entire world started spinning- and he only saw Charles concerned face before his vision went completely black

PART 2???

[madelynraemunson]

CALL OUT MY NAME ♛

(Book #2 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Series)

CEO!bachelor!steve × fem!college grad!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 • 18+ | BOOK #1 (e.m.)

Chapter 004: Encore

You have needs. Steve has needs. Given your two friends’ complicated history, you both know can’t be together — but that’s the thrill of it all.

↳ 001 (PROLOGUE) // 002 // 003 // 004 // 005 // 006 // 007 EPILOGUE

cw: slight age gap (sweets is 23, steve is 31), mutual pining, sexual tension, SMUT, p in v sex, soft!dom steve, pls wrap before you tap thanks

card suits divider: @cafekitsune 🃏🧡

“THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER.”

♛

3.1k words

“I’ll take a black coffee, please. Hot.”

“What size?” the barista inquires.

“Largest one you have.”

Go big or go home. You’re going to need it anyways.

Last night was a clusterfuck of emotions, all of which you had no idea how to process. But you figured that, with Isabelle being the heavy sleeper she is, that you could get away from her and the room you shared and clear your head for a bit. Coffee and contemplation.

“You can put that on my tab.”

Following the direction of the voice, you're surprised to see Steve, up as bright and early as you are, just a mere few inches away. Except he looks more presentable than you, dressed in creaseless neutral-toned athleisure, hair neatly kept with pomade into a sleek swish.

You want to curse under your breath. Fuck. When didn't he look hot?

"Well I'll be damned," you mutter with a gentle smirk.

“I knew I’d get you back eventually,” Steve winks. “Course I didn’t think it’d happen eight hours later.”

“Good morning."

“Now it is.”

Steve slips in beside you and greets you with a warm smile. His eyes remain glued to yours as he extends his credit card to the cashier, placing his order before motioning you towards some elevated bar tables. It doesn't slip your mind to be in his company.

"Did you sleep well?" you ask him.

"Yeah," he nods. "I did, actually. Did you... sleep well?"

Steve seemingly searches for an answer in your eyes. A specific answer it seems, quite possibly pertaining to the events that unfolded the night before.

"Yeah," you chuckle. "Given everything."

“I'm so sorry about last night," he exhales. "Didn’t mean to put you in the middle of all this."

“Yeah…” you shrug unsurely. "But I figured that by association, I'd get sucked into it somehow."

He laughs softly. “Isabelle your friend?”

“What’s it to you?” you cock a brow.

“Just curious.”

“She’s more like a big sister to me,” you explain. “We met in college.”

The drop in Steve’s face was something you couldn’t decipher. Or something you didn’t want to at least.

All morning, this dark cloud of uncertainty has been festering over you, making you more and more anxious because you couldn't seem to grasp what the hell was going on. Judging by the vibes of it though, it doesn't seem good.

"Eddie's a good guy," Steve sputters, almost spastically. "I don't know what your best friend told you, but based on our collective experience with him, Eddie's nothing like the monster Isabelle's painted him to be."

"Isabelle hasn't said much about him actually," you counter. "Until lately."

Steve is almost shocked. "She didn't?"

"She doesn't really talk about her past," you elaborate. "I'm assuming it's because she's traumatized by it. I did know she was married though. And that she cheated on Eddie."

It's not something Isabelle is proud of. In fact, when you met her, Isabelle had been embarking on a journey towards redemption, taking you with her to local humanitarian events, and even to church with her folks every Sunday during second year.

Because your parents had been unavailable in every way your whole life, Isabelle believed you needed to be surrounded by good people. A good deal of the woman you were shaped to be was from Isabelle's influence. You don't know what to feel now.

"Wow," Steve reflects. "She at least owned up to that, damn."

"Yeah, but given the layers of the story..." you shrug. "It all just sounds so complex and confusing. I never knew this about my best friend. Never knew she danced... maybe she was ashamed."

"I'd like to think that's why she didn't tell you," Steve kisses his teeth. "But I have a very hard time believing that's the case."

They were high school sweethearts, Isabelle and Eddie. And according to Steve, they got married right after graduation. Starting from scratch with his money he made from dealing, Eddie built his own business, the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club, a strip club in their small town with a nerdy Dungeons & Dragons theme.

"Eddie has always respected women," Steve elaborates. "Even when they didn't respect him. Never laid a hand on a lady, treated them like queens... Eventually he had me hop on board, with my business. We've always been... for the girls."

"I believe you," you grin up at him.

It got ugly pretty fast, according to Steve again. Before everyone knew it, Isabelle was running the show. Calling the shots. And the dancers, who all seemed to have the hots for Eddie, jumped to his defense and tried to run her out the club. Eddie ultimately ended up sending Isabelle to another club across town to ease the tension.

"Terry's club..." you start to piece it all together.

"Precisely," Steve nods. "And unfortunately... that's where the lines start to blur."

"STEVE?!"

You both shudder at the sudden exclamation, and Steve is quick to retrieve your coffees from the bar. You two then resume the story-telling with a brief 'cheers'.

“Childish beverage you got there,” you nod towards Steve's cafe mocha with whip cream.

“Keeps me young,” Steve shrugs.

You gaze at him flirtatiously as you sip your black coffee. "I'm sure."

You fawn at his hands, the thick veins on the canvas now brought to life by the warmth of his drink. He takes mental note of your observation, clearing his throat, and shifting slightly, but notably more towards you as opposed to further away. He wants you too, there's no denying.

"Listen, Sweets," Steve sighs. "It kills me to say that... even though I'm very much attracted to you, I don't think entertaining this any further is a good idea."

"I'm very much attracted to you too," is all you say.

You hope he takes the bait. If Steve wants you enough, he's sure to choose batty lashes over logic any day.

"I mean, I feel a connection, I really do," Steve adds. "But with all of this 'he said', 'she said' bullshit, it's only a recipe for disaster."

"I totally agree," you nod along. "It's messy."

"Spicy, if you will."

"Almost forbidden," you bite the fruit.

"Tempting..." Steve's tone darkens, complementing your previous statement. "But because of Eddie and Isabelle, I feel like we just need to leave it at that. Because they're our best friends, we shouldn't pursue anything with each other. We can't carry all this drama back home with us."

It seems like Steve was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you. His gaze drifts to the ground for a bit, then back up at you, a mix of both hesitation and resolve in his eyes.

"Right..." you concur once again with a firm, respectful, tight-lipped smile. "Gotta stay away from each other. For the sake of our friends."

It's a good thing whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

"Jesus, fuck."

A scream furls at the base of your stomach as you fuck yourself onto Steve's stiff and heavy cock, the back of your thighs red from how aggressively they were slapping against his hips. Shock spreads across your body as you muster yourself up to accommodate him, the exhilaration and intensity of his pumps both euphoric and ruinous at the same time.

"How do you hit it so good every. fucking. time?" you cry out as you take every single one of his blows.

Steve smiles to himself in amusement while you unravel beneath him, brushing his soft lips against the crook between your neck.

“I jus' pay attention,” Steve whispers as he rubs delicate circles against your clit. “And you have every bit of mine, baby.”

"Oh I feel it," you say with a joke-filled whimper. "Goddd...damn..."

"Ha. Funny and cute," Steve huffs, digging himself balls-deep into you. "Guess I won the jackpot."

Hooking your ankles with Steve's now as you reel him in, you begin to clasp at the sheets for both security and leverage. His rock-hard cock and heaving pants are sure to spring you into an eye-scrunching, lip-biting, toe-curling release. And just when you thought you had a good couple of minutes left in you, you feel Steve's fingers sink into the pleasure points of your neck.

He shoves your face down into the mattress.

"'my fucking god I'm cumming!" you scream as he relentlessly fucks himself into you.

Your orgasm splashes against Steve's quads as he fucks you out, his continuous prowling despite BOTH of your evident climaxes turning your legs into a quivering mush. And hitting the sweet spot every fucking time? For a stranger, he knows your body very well. Of course, he might have 'experience' to thank for that.

You're never going back to the college boys again.

A gentle slap on the butt snaps you back from your lust-filled trance. You turn to look at Steve, whose now got a boyish smirk on his face.

"Good morning," you giggle, repeating yourself from earlier.

"Now it is," Steve joins in.

You toss the fluffy comforter over your body while Steve goes to dispose of the condom. While you wait, you take a moment to soak in the elegance of the Encore suite, comparing it to that of yours at the Venetian.

Before you know it, Steve is back at the bedside, reaching into his wallet as he glances periodically over at you.

"What do you want for graduation?" he questions.

"Huh?" you respond blankly.

"On me. I insist."

"Steve..." you chuckle nervously, bringing the comforter further up towards your bare chest. "You really don't have to.''

"I insist," he repeats.

"It makes me feel like your gift is some sort of payment."

Steve's eyes widen suddenly.

"I did not mean for it to be that way, I'm sorry," he gulps. "Gift-giving is just my love language, I've learned."

"Well I'm fine with the anti-roofie bobby pin you gifted me," you blush gesturing towards your purse where it's neatly kept. "That is enough in my book."

"But not enough in mine," Steve counters. "Matter of fact, take a look at this."

You watch as the handsome CEO scrambles across the room in his boxer shorts, all just to retrieve a pen that he graciously hands over to you.

"It's not just any pen," he explains. "It's the audio recording pen."

"Wow," you remark. "It's giving... Russian Spy."

Steve chuckles. "Well when you put it that way..."

"Maybe you are a spy," you shoot him an insinuating wink. "Did someone send you to watch my every move?"

"Mmm, I think you cracked the case," Steve smirks, matching your energy almost immediately. "Can't have a bad girl like you walking around with no supervision."

You feel him melt into you...

"Or consequences," he strains, leaving some delicate kisses at your neck.

The opening of a nearby door interrupts your foreplay for round three. Almost like it's a defense mechanism, you shift instantly, attempting to sink further into the sheets to cover yourself up.

"Morning!" comes a voice. "We're all gonna go get some donuts at the Excalibur do you wanna come wi—JESUS CHRIST!"

Eddie's wife. Taken aback by another presence in the room, Steve damn near collapses onto you to make sure you stay concealed.

"Oh god," Shy Girl remarks. "HAHAHA. This is hilarious."

"Munson," Steve whines, attempting to bury his face in his forearm. "How did you get in here?"

"Uh, joint rooms remember?" she responds. "Also... if you didn't want any visitors you should've made it obvious. Your DND sign was also not on at the main door."

Shy Girl cranes her neck over to you. When she registers who you are, there's a glisten in her eyes; and a profound, wry smile she is merely unable to hide.

"Hey stranger!" she chirps. "Get some good sleep after last night?"

"As much as I was able to," you mumble.

"Ah," she pouts. "It seems like your morning fix made it better though. The invite's still open. Doughy goodness at pretty castle awaits."

Shy Girl turns her head to ensure your clothes are on when your gazes meet again. While she waits, she takes a stroll around Steve's single room, playing around with his hair products and fancy looking e-razor.

Knowing there's absolutely nothing to say, you toss your sweats on and quickly grab your purse. After bidding Steve a silent goodbye, you start towards the door, maintaining your head in the lowest possible position.

"Really?" you hear Steve say to Shy Girl in the room, the ruffling in the background presumably him tossing his clothes on as well.

"What?" she tuts. "She's a cutie pie."

To ensure you don't lose your way, you open Maps to route your walk back to the Venetian. You also take a moment to look at your messages, your heart nearly plunging to your ass when 10 texts from Isabelle await you.

All of them asked where you were.

Frozen in place, you gulp as your trembling fingers think of what to say. And before you can craft your response, the entry door to Steve's room cracks open.

Your body remains paralyzed as Shy Girl emerges from the room, only to walk herself directly one door over. Before you two officially part ways, she says to you,

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Your secret is safe with me."

“Where have you been?!” Isabelle demands the moment you get back to the room.

“Coffee run…” you vaguely reply.

“For two and a half hours?!”

Her agitation is evident. You meander cautiously around the hotel room, careful enough to not make any eye contact because you know Isabelle can crack you like that. But soon, her constant prying makes you agitated.

"I don't know anyone who takes three hours to get a coffee."

“You’ve taken shits longer than that,” you roll your eyes. “And plus you were out like a light, I needed to get some form of a Hot Girl Walk in.”

"At the Encore, huh?"

The air turns cold. Bitter.

"Excuse me?"

You and Isabelle have each other's locations for safety purposes. But now you realize that it seems she checks it more frequently than you thought.

"At 8:04 AM, your location pinged at the coffee shop outside, between the Venetian and the Encore," Isabelle reports, as if you weren't aware. "And then by 9 AM, you were inside the Encore where you remained until now. It's about to be noon. Must've been quite some line for you to stay in that area for so long. Unless you were with somebody."

"What if there were some shops I wanted to check out in the Encore?" you challenge her.

"Like which shops?"

"The shops we don't have here."

"Cute..."

It had been a while since you and Isabelle had an exchange this hostile. Isabelle always speaks to you kindly. But with all of this unraveling, she's feening for just survival. Or an escape. From what though?

Buzz!

Your phone buzzes with a text. Opening the protected message, a smile creeps onto your face when you see who it's from.

Maybe: Steve

When can I see you again?

You:

You free tonight? Maybe we can meet by the gondolas at the Venetian.

Maybe: Steve

👍

You giggle at the simple text. Older men and their vagueness.

“What are you laughing at?” Isabelle pries.

“A meme…” you fib.

You don’t know why you keep lying. Friends don’t lie. But something in your gut tells you you’re trekking dangerous waters. And a part of you, strangely enough, doesn’t want to be rescued.

“Can we talk about last night?” you request, yearning for a civil conversation.

“What’s to talk about?” Isabelle snaps.

“THIS," you explain, gesturing up and down. "You just seem…very shaken up about seeing your ex-husband."

“Anyone would be!”

“Okay I get that, but you don’t have to take it out on me…"

Isabelle is quiet, which allows you to finish your statement.

“Especially because I don’t know the whole story.”

“Eddie just…” your best friend sighs. “Really fucked me up. That’s all I have to say about that.”

"I really wish you would give me more details," you mumble. "I don't have much to work with here."

"Asking your best friend to revisit her TRAUMATIZING past when she's still healing is a little fucked up, don't you think?" is what Isabelle fires back with.

"It's not like that at all! I thought you'd know my intentions by now."

"Touché," she snarkily responds.

"Oh," you exhale sharply.

It's become nearly impossible to deal with. All you've wanted was honesty and all you've gotten was rage. Before it escalated any further, you decide to temporarily remove yourself from the equation.

"I'm gonna step back out for a breather."

You didn't expect your best friend to deflect. "I think that's a great idea."

Refusing to acknowledge Elle any further, you yank the room key off your shared bedside table, shoving it into your purse, and pulling the purse over your shoulder. You take one last glance over at Elle, arms crossed by the window, her current mask now that of a stoic one—no trace of the rage that had filled the air just minutes ago.

But the silence is deafening. Finally, after seemingly like an eternity, she turns to you.

"By the way," Elle snarls. “If you're gonna do what I think you're doing, I don't think it's a good idea. I don't want you to regret it."

It's hard to take her seriously given her current state. But somehow, what she says next finds a way to vex you somehow.

"There’s a reason why Steve Harrington can’t bag a chick his age.”

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