#the Arthur's notes gave me an idea!

[adylote]

Oh yeah, I will make you mine Arthur!

Btw, haha, finally I can date Quincy but im loyal to my man. Sorry Quincy-k, you're my man but platonic (?)

[cressidagrey]

64.media.tumblr.com

White Horse - Chapter 17: May 2024 - Part 1

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

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

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

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

Charles: Maman’s birthday next week—what’s the plan?

Arthur: Isabelle? You usually handle it.

Isabelle: Not this year.

Lorenzo: Sorry, what?

Arthur: Lol okay, very funny. What’s the plan?

Isabelle: I’m serious. I’m not doing it this year.

Charles: Wait. What do you mean you’re not doing it?

Isabelle: I mean you three can plan it this time. I’m not the family secretary. Not anymore.

Charles: Since when?

Isabelle: Since I realized I’m the only one who ever does it, and you all expect it like it’s a given. I’m not your personal event planner.

Arthur: Okay, but… you like that stuff.

Isabelle: I like when people contribute. I don’t like being taken for granted.

Charles: Whoa.

Arthur: Is this because I forgot to Venmo you for the gift last year?

Isabelle: That was two years ago, Arthur. And you still haven’t.

Lorenzo: This feels aggressive.

Isabelle: It’s not. It’s a boundary.

Charles: Okay but can’t you set it… after Maman’s birthday?

Arthur: Yeah. This is really inconvenient.

Isabelle: It’s not supposed to be convenient for you.

Charles: I don’t like this version of you.

Belle: I don’t like being the only adult in the room. So I guess we’re even.

Arthur: So you’re really not doing anything?

Isabelle: I am getting flowers from all of us. I am ordering the cake. I am doing my own gift for Maman. If you three want to do a joint gift, you can do that, but I am not planning it. One of you can book the restaurant.   

Lorenzo: This feels like a test.

Isabelle: It’s not. But you’re definitely failing it.

Charles: I feel emotionally manipulated.

Lorenzo: I feel abandoned.

Arthur: I miss the old Isabelle. The one who covered for us.

Isabelle: I don’t. She was a doormat. ***

Leclerc Brothers Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Charles and Lorenzo)

Arthur: Okay so we still don’t have a gift for Maman and Isabelle is being stubborn.

Charles: She said “boundaries.” Since when does she have boundaries?

Lorenzo: She said she’s not helping. She meant it.

Arthur: This feels personal.

Charles: I feel abandoned. I feel like I’ve been emotionally left on read.

Lorenzo: We should’ve started this earlier.

Arthur: We always start this last-minute and it’s fine because Isabelle does everything.

Charles: She’s so good at it though. She likes organizing things.

Lorenzo: We need to be strategic. What would Isabelle get?

Arthur: Peace. Quiet. 

Charles: So a spa day?

Lorenzo: We’re not sending our mother to the spa again. She’s starting to think we believe she’s stressed.

Arthur: She is stressed. We exist.

Charles: I had an idea last night. What about a puppy?

Lorenzo: Absolutely not.

Arthur: What if we just… get her a necklace? Generic. Safe. Shiny.

Charles: No creativity. She’ll know we panicked.

Lorenzo: We are panicking.

Arthur: You know what would solve this? If Isabelle told us what to do.

Arthur:  I feel like a neglected plant.

Charles: I feel like the plant someone gave Isabelle to water, and now she’s like “it’s not my plant.”

Arthur: Cool cool cool. So we’re getting Maman a plant and pretending we planned it?

Lorenzo: ...We’re hopeless.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Charles Leclerc

Charles: Okay but hear me out: What about a pottery class for her and her friends?

Isabelle: Charles it’s 2am

Isabelle: Go to sleep.

Isabelle: Maman doesn’t even like pottery. 

Charles: How about a goat?

Isabelle: A what?

Charles: A goat. Like a cute little goat. They’re trendy right now.

Isabelle: She lives in an apartment, Charles.

Charles: A small goat.

Isabelle: No.

Charles: You said I had to contribute. This is me contributing.

Isabelle: This is you spiraling.

Charles: Okay but this looks nice right?? (sends link)

Isabelle: That is a garden gnome wine holder, Charles. 

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

 (Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon and Nico Hulkenberg)

Oscar: HE DID IT

George: HE ACTUALLY DID IT

Carlos: LAAAAAAAAAANDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alex: My BOY MY TWITCH STREAMER MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT CHAOTIC SUNBEAM

Daniel: I’M CRYING IN PUBLIC WHO LET HIM BE THIS FAST WHO ALLOWED THIS WHO HANDED HIM A TROPHY AND SAID “YEAH, OKAY”

Lando: guys…

Carlos: YOU’RE HERE? GO POP CHAMPAGNE

Oscar: Put your phone down. Go cry. We’re doing it for you.

Nico H: Congrats, man. Seriously. That was a hell of a drive.

Lewis: Five years. FIVE YEARS. You deserve this.

Daniel: Do we throw him a party? Do we kidnap him and fly to Ibiza?

Alex: Yes. Obviously. We ride at dawn.

Carlos: He’s never allowed to say “I’m not good enough” again. I will slap him.

Lando: Okay okay okay 😭😭 I just… can’t believe it happened I thought I was gonna throw up before the last lap

Daniel: I’m gonna rewatch the podium 14 times. You SMILED. Like, real smiled. Oscar was lowkey crying. Don’t let him lie.

Oscar: I WASN’T …shut up

Lewis: See? You’re loved. You’re really loved.

Sebastian: This is what we call earned joy. Enjoy every second, Lando. I’m so, so happy for you 🧡

Daniel: I’m printing out today’s timing sheet and framing it

Alex: We were on Norris Watch for years. YEARS.

Checo: Congrats, man. You’ve waited a long time for this. Really happy for you.

Nico R: You’ve had the pace for a while. Today you had the moment. Bravo.

Oscar: And now he’s won. And he’s still just a slightly dehydrated raccoon in designer sunglasses

Lando: I can’t even be mad

Kimi: Took you long enough.

George: Okay but do we start placing bets on win #2 now?

Carlos: Let him breathe 😭

Lewis: Enjoy it, mate. Every second. You earned this.

Fernando: It was inevitable. That’s all.

George: Do we throw him a party? I vote party.

Mark: He’s in Miami. The party’s coming to him.

Sebastian: Just don’t let Daniel plan the itinerary.

Daniel: I’M A DELIGHTFUL PARTY PLANNER. I’VE MATURED.

Lewis: No you haven’t.

Alex: Absolutely not.

Oscar: Zero evidence of that.

Lando: I love you guys. Thank you. Seriously

George: We’re gonna get so insufferable about this

Lando:I’m gonna go sob in the shower and then drink a really big coconut

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Lando Norris

Isabelle:  You did it. 🧡

Isabelle: You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know… I’m really, really proud of you.

Isabelle: You earned this. Every second. Every race you stayed calm. Every joke you cracked when you were hurting. Every time you smiled for fans even when you didn’t feel like it. You never gave up. And today? It all paid off.

Lando: …you’re gonna make me cry again and I’ve already cried twice.  that’s my limit for the year

Belle: Sorry 😌 I’ll save the long, emotional voice note for later

Lando: Don’t you dare Actually Do it

Isabelle:  I will. After you finish that coconut

Lando: HOW DO YOU KNOW I’M DRINKING A COCONUT

Belle: Because I know you. And you looked like you were already planning it the second you stepped on the podium

Lando: okay fair thank you, Belle really

Belle: Always. Now go celebrate. I’ll be cheering from here.

Lando: From Monaco?

Belle: From the rooftop. With our cats. They’re proud of you too.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Isabelle Leclerc

Max: Going out with Lando for a bit. Post-win celebration. He earned it.

Isabelle: Aww 🧡 That’s sweet of you. Be nice to him.

Max: I am nice. I’m bringing him shots. That’s nice.

Isabelle: That’s dangerous. Try not to start a bar fight.

Max: Promise. Love you. 

[Monday, Much, Much Later]

Max: BELLE

Max: U R SO PRETTY

Max: LIKE. ACTUALLY. PRETTY PRETTY

Max: U should be here u’d hate it but like also u’d look SO HOT in this lighting

Max: lando said i’m soft now bc i said ur voice is my favorite sound so i punched him in the arm

Max: soft???? bro i’m in love what does he want me to do. deny it???

Max: anyway ur eyes r the best part of monaco u can quote me

Max: i miss u

[Much, Much Later]

Isabelle: Good morning, poetic disaster 💋 How’s the head?

Max: 🥲 Loud. Everything is loud. Why does my soul feel hungover.

Isabelle: Probably because you told me my eyes were the best part of Monaco and then threatened to fight Lando for calling you soft.

Max: …Did I actually type that?

Belle: Verbatim. You also called me “pretty pretty” and claimed I’d look “SO HOT in this lighting.” Capitals included.

Max: I hate myself

Isabelle: Don’t. It was very charming. Drunk and feral, but charming.

Isabelle: You did tell me my voice was your favorite sound.

Max: Okay that one stands. I mean it.

Isabelle: I know you do. Still going to make you suffer for the rest though.

Max: I was vulnerable. Weak. In my tequila era.

Isabelle: You were in love and dramatic. It was kind of perfect.

Max: You still love me?

Isabelle: Soft bro, I’m in love. What do you want me to do, deny it?

Max: 😤 Uncalled for.

Isabelle: Call me when you’re functional. 

Max: You’re too good to me.

Isabelle: I know. I’m Monaco’s best feature, after all.

Max: Can confirm. ***

Text Messages: Emilie Abadie & Isabelle Leclerc

Emilie: Okay so… Question

Isabelle: That’s always a dangerous start.

Emilie: Who is this Lando person And why is everyone crying because he won something

Isabelle: Oh my God. You really don’t know anything about F1, do you?

Emilie: Absolutely not. I know Max drives fast, and you’re too pretty to be emotionally stable, that’s it.

Isabelle: Valid.

Emilie: But seriously. My entire timeline is full of sweaty orange hats and people screaming “HE FINALLY DID IT.” What did he do? Did he climb a mountain? Invent a vaccine?

Isabelle: He won his first Formula 1 Grand Prix. He’s been in F1 for five years. Always came close. Never quite made it.Everyone’s been waiting for this.He’s a good guy. Deserved it.

Emilie: Huh. He’s the guy with the curly hair, right?

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: And the jawbones?

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: And the voice that’s suspiciously hot for someone named Lando?

Isabelle: …Why do you care?

Emilie: I don’t!!

Isabelle: You do. You’ve never asked me about a single driver. Not once. And now you’re googling him like a concerned historian.

Emilie: I’m just… doing research. You know. investigating the cultural phenomenon

Isabelle: Uh-huh. Is this cultural phenomenon wearing a papaya-colored race suit and has curly hair?

Emilie: Fine. He’s cute. He looked happy. The bar is so low.

Isabelle: He is cute. And he should be happy. He’s a good guy.

Emilie: You sound like you’re trying to sell me a family dog.

Isabelle: He’s very sweet! Loyal! Thoughtful! Max calls him chaotic sunshine. I call him emotionally transparent. You’d like him.

Emilie: So a golden retriever.

Isabelle: With slightly better hair.

Emilie: Does he bite?

Isabelle: Only when provoked. Or when Max makes a joke about his height.

Emilie: Hmm.

Isabelle: Oh no.

Emilie: What?

Isabelle: You’re thinking about him.

Emilie: Absolutely not.

Emilie: This is slander.

Isabelle: This is me knowing you better than you know yourself. And I’m telling you: he’s a good one. A little chaotic. But real.

Emilie: He smiled like…like he waited years for this. I noticed that. I hate that I noticed that.

Belle: Yeah. That’s why people cried. It wasn’t just about the win—it was about him. He needed it. And he earned it.

Emilie: …Okay maybe I get the hats now.

Isabelle: Give it three days. You’ll be watching fan edits on TikTok and pretending it’s research. I have been there. 

***

Belle had done what she said she would do—and no more.

She’d ordered the cake. She’d picked up her mother’s favorite flowers that morning: cream roses and blue hydrangeas, wrapped in soft white paper. She’d even arrived early to set them on the table herself, with care, because that was the kind of daughter she was. Or used to be.

Now, she was the kind of daughter who kept her word but stopped letting herself be steamrolled.

Pascale arrived right on time, kissed Belle on both cheeks, and immediately gave the restaurant a once-over.

“This place wasn’t my first choice.”

Belle smiled tightly. “Arthur booked it.”

“Ah. Well.” Her mother’s eyes skimmed the mirrored walls, the packed tables. “At least it’s… clean.”

Belle gestured to the bouquet from all of them, and the beautifully chosen gift bag she had chosen for her gift to her mother. It was a hand painted silk scarf from her mother’s favourite small boutique in Nice.  “Happy birthday, Maman.”

“Oh, thank you, darling.” Pascale barely glanced at them. “How thoughtful. Did you and the boys coordinate?”

“No,” Belle said evenly. “They’re doing their own gifts this year.”

Pascale’s brow twitched. “Oh?”

“I told them weeks ago.”

“Hm.” She lifted the bag without really looking at it. “Just from you?”

“Yes. Just me.”

The rest arrived five to ten minutes late, as if they’d all agreed to stagger themselves and then forgot the timing. Arthur looked panicked, Charles like he was trying too hard not to look panicked, and Lorenzo came with Charlotte in tow, who smiled politely and looked like she already regretted it. Alexandra walked in beside Charles and kissed Pascale on the cheek like a diplomat entering a war zone.

“Happy birthday, Pascale” Alexandra said. “You look wonderful.”

Pascale’s smile returned. “Merci, cherie. You always say the right things.”

“Unlike your sons,” Charlotte muttered under her breath, loud enough for Belle to hear.

Charles sat beside Belle and leaned toward her. “So… I take it the restaurant’s not a hit.”

Belle didn’t even glance at him. “What gave it away? The menu or Maman’s expression?”

As the waiter listed off the specials—every one of them garnished with fennel—Belle watched her mother’s face tighten.

“I thought I said last year I hated fennel,” Pascale said lightly.

Arthur mumbled, “It was the only place with a table.”

Charlotte’s voice was gentle. “It’s a beautiful spot though.”

“Yes,” Pascale said with a tilt of her head. “But not terribly thoughtful. I would’ve preferred a nice picnic at home,” Pascale muttered, opening her menu as though it had personally offended her.

Belle stayed quiet. She wasn’t the one who chose this.

Though the one thing she agreed with: Even the wine tasted horrific in this restaurant. She pushed her white wine glass far away from her, the acidic smell hitting her nose and making her want to scrunch her nose. 

The gifts came next. Or rather, the lack of them.

Arthur had hastily shoved a gift bag onto the table with the receipt still inside. Lorenzo offered wine. 

And Charles? Charles offered nothing but a vague “It’s arriving later, it’s like... experiential.”

“Experiential?” Pascale repeated, arching a brow.

“It’s a class,” Charles added quickly. “Pottery.”

Their mother stared at him like he had sprouted wings. 

“Pottery?!” Pascale asked and Charles swallowed, nodding, looking like he was regretting all his life choices. 

Belle didn’t look up, but Alexandra choked into her water and muttered, “I told you.”

Belle sipped her water.

“Oh,” Pascale continued, “and what’s this?” She picked up the card. “Just from you, Isabelle?”

“Yes,” Belle said simply.

“No group gift this year?”

“I asked everyone to handle their own,” she replied. “I did the flowers and the cake. And the card. That was enough.”

Pascale gave a little hum of amusement. “Well, I suppose you have become very independent lately.”

Belle met her mother’s gaze. “I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.”

“No, no, of course not,” Pascale said, voice breezy. “It’s just… you used to take such pride in pulling everything together. You were always so good at it.”

“That was the problem.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “To be fair, you didn’t exactly help us this year.”

“I told you what I was doing. You just didn’t listen,” Belle said calmly.

“You used to remind us,” Charles mumbled. “You used to care.”

Belle’s jaw twitched. “I still care. I just don’t want to be treated like the family secretary anymore.”

“I think she misses being in control,” Lorenzo muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

Charlotte glanced at him, sharp. “Or maybe she’s just tired of being taken advantage of.”

“Exactly,” Alexandra said. “God forbid she set a boundary.”

Pascale, still smiling, turned to Belle. “Cherie, no one’s saying you have to do everything. It’s just… you’re so capable. When you stop doing it, everything falls apart.”

“Maybe that means everyone else should step up,” Belle replied.

Pascale gave a laugh that sounded delicate and dismissive all at once. “Well, clearly no one stepped up today.”

She said it like a joke. Like a shrug. Like it wasn’t her sons who had forgotten, scrambled, improvised. Like it was somehow Belle’s fault for letting them fail.

Belle felt the burn in her chest—not anger, not really. Just exhaustion.

She’d done her part. More than her part. But it would never be enough, because the moment she stopped doing everything, the blame quietly shifted to her.

“You could’ve reminded them,” Pascale said again, softer now. “You know how your brothers are.”

“Yes,” Belle said. “I do.”

“Well,” she said lightly. “I suppose this is what adulthood looks like. Everyone suddenly too busy to remember their mother.”

“I remembered,” Belle said.

“You always do, darling. It’s just that this year… you remembered differently.”

And there it was.

Not cruelty. Not even anger.

Just the kind of soft-edged disappointment Belle had spent most of her life trying to avoid.

The rest of lunch passed in half-hearted conversation and clumsy attempts at jokes. The cake arrived—beautiful, perfect, and, predictably, unacknowledged.

Belle watched her brothers clap, watched her mother blow out the candles, watched it all carry on like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t just been told—kindly, sweetly, carelessly—that she was the glue, and glue isn’t allowed to come undone.

Alexandra leaned closer, her voice low. “You okay?”

Belle forced a smile. “I will be.”

As they all stood to leave, Pascale leaned in and kissed her cheek again.

“Next year, maybe we go back to the usual way. Less… disjointed.”

Belle didn’t answer.

Because she wasn’t sure the old way would ever return.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: I survived.

Emilie: Emotionally or just physically?

Isabelle: ...Barely both.

Emilie: How bad?

Isabelle: Let’s just say the cake was perfect and no one noticed. Arthur brought a gift bag with the receipt still inside. Charles gave her a pottery class. A POTTERY CLASS. And Lorenzo recycled a bottle of wine she gave him last year.

Emilie: I’m sorry. Did they try to offer her used wrapping paper too?

Isabelle: Honestly wouldn’t have been surprised. She looked at the card—my card—and asked if it was just from me. Then she said everyone was too busy to remember their mother. I reminded her that I remembered. She said: “You always do, darling. It’s just that this year… you remembered differently.”

Emilie: … Wow. Soft weaponized guilt in its final form.

Isabelle: I’m so tired. I did what I said I would. Flowers. Cake. My own gift. I set boundaries. And it still felt like it was my fault everything else fell apart.

Emilie: That’s because it isn’t about the gifts. It’s about control. You stopped doing everything, and instead of realizing they need to grow up, they decided you were the problem.

Isabelle: She said things “fell apart” because I stopped doing it all. Like it was inevitable.

Emilie: Because no one in your family wants to believe they’re part of the problem. It’s easier to blame the glue than to learn how to hold things together.

Isabelle: I didn’t cry. I thought I would. But I didn’t.

Emilie: That’s not because it didn’t hurt. It’s because you’re exhausted from caring so hard for so long. And you knew exactly how today would go.

Isabelle: Yeah.

Emilie: I’m proud of you, by the way.

Isabelle: For what? Ruining lunch?

Emilie: No. For not letting them pull you back in. You didn’t break your boundary. You kept your head high. You even brought the right cake like a damn queen.

Isabelle: I don’t feel like a queen. I feel like… a disappointed intern who can’t quit because the office is run by her family.

Emilie: Then consider this your resignation letter. Effective immediately. From now on, you only show up to enjoy the cake—not to organize the entire damn bakery.

***

The apartment was unusually quiet.

Max pushed the door open slowly, balancing a paper bag in one hand—her favorite pastries from that little place by the port—and shut the door behind him with a soft click.

“Belle?” he called.

No answer.

He kicked off his shoes and padded through the hallway. Her shoes were by the door, her bag hanging from the hook. She was home. But the lights were still off, the curtains half-drawn.

He stepped into the living room, expecting to find her reading or curled up with her laptop.

Instead, he found her asleep on the couch.

Belle never napped. She was the kind of person who filled silence with tasks, who felt guilty if she rested too long. Her idea of downtime usually involved organizing something or researching a new fabric for a client.

But now?

Now she was curled up in the corner of the couch, one arm tucked under her cheek, her breathing slow and steady. She’d kicked off her heels, and one strap of her dress had slipped slightly down her shoulder. Her brow was furrowed, even in sleep.

And all three cats were piled on top of her.

Jimmy was sprawled across her legs, completely dead weight. Lilly was curled protectively against her stomach, one paw gently resting on her arm. And Sassy—who rarely let anyone touch her—was nestled against her neck, purring like a motor.

Max smiled softly.

The cats knew. Of course they did.

He moved quietly, setting the bag of pastries down on the counter and crouching beside the couch. He didn’t wake her. He just watched her for a moment—her lashes dark against her cheeks, the faint smudge of exhaustion still lingering under her eyes. There was something heartbreakingly small about the way she’d folded in on herself. Like she’d tried to make herself take up less space.

He reached out and gently brushed her hair back behind her ear.

Belle stirred, but didn’t wake. Lilly opened one eye, flicked her tail, and went back to purring.

Max exhaled and whispered, “I’m sorry it was shit.”

She didn’t need to tell him. He’d seen the signs before she left: the tight smile, the perfectly chosen scarf, the way she’d stood just a little too straight. He knew Pascale. He knew her brothers. And he knew the weight Belle carried when they made her feel invisible for having a spine.

He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it over her gently, tucking it in around the cats. Jimmy let out a tiny grunt but didn’t move.

Max kissed her temple. Light. Barely there.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

He sat on the floor beside her, leaning against the couch, and let his hand rest on hers, careful not to disturb the cats. She shifted slightly, her fingers curling instinctively into his.

The apartment stayed quiet, but now it felt full. Safe.

Eventually, Belle would wake up. Eventually, she’d downplay it all, say she was fine, say it wasn’t that bad.

But Max would remember the way she napped in the middle of the day like her body had finally crashed, like she’d had to hold herself together for too long.

***

She woke up slowly.

There was warmth on her legs. Something heavy on her chest. A light pressure on her hand.

For a moment, she didn’t move—just let herself feel the quiet. The absence of expectations. The strange relief of not having to speak.

Then she blinked and registered the familiar weight of Jimmy on her thighs, Lilly tucked into her side, and—

Sassy. On her shoulder. Sassy, who hated everyone except Max and her. 

She turned her head slightly and saw Max sitting on the floor beside the couch, head tilted back against the cushion, his fingers still laced with hers. His thumb stroked over her knuckles slowly, rhythmically, like he’d been doing it the whole time she slept.

“How long have you been there?” she whispered.

His eyes opened. “Long enough to be offended none of the cats chose me.”

Belle gave a weak, sleepy laugh. “You didn’t bring treats.”

“I brought toys last week. I feel that earns me some credit.”

She stretched, only a little, careful not to disturb the cats. Her throat tightened unexpectedly. She looked down at their hands. Her voice was quiet when she said, “It was awful.”

Max didn’t respond right away. He waited.

“I knew it would be,” she continued. “I was ready for it. I thought I was. But—” She paused. “It still got to me.”

“Of course it did,” he said gently. “Because you’re not made of stone, no matter how good you are at pretending.”

She swallowed. “She didn’t yell. None of them did. That’s the worst part. Just these… little jabs. Like I ruined things by not doing what I always do.”

He brushed his thumb along the back of her hand again. “Because they don’t want to admit how much they rely on you. It’s easier to pretend you’re being difficult than to admit they’ve taken you for granted.”

“I felt like the villain for saying no.”

“You weren’t,” he said firmly. “You were the only one who showed up the way she deserved.”

“She said I remembered differently.”

“You remembered honestly,” Max said. “And with boundaries. That’s a good thing.”

Belle exhaled slowly. “I hate how tired I am.”

“That’s what happens when you carry everyone else’s expectations for fifteen years.”

She closed her eyes. “I just wanted her to notice. Not the card. Not the scarf. Me.”

Max was silent for a long beat. Then he shifted, stood, and gently sat on the edge of the couch beside her, nudging Jimmy out of the way with minimal protest.

“You know what I noticed?” he asked softly.

Belle looked up at him.

“You walked into that lunch knowing it would suck. You still brought the cake. You still picked out the flowers and got there early and remembered everything that matters. But you also stood your ground. You didn’t shrink. You didn’t apologize for having limits.”

She blinked fast.

Max reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“You didn’t fail them, Belle. They failed you. And she—she missed the point. But I didn’t.”

She let out a breath that trembled more than she wanted.

Belle reached for him then—slowly, tiredly—and he leaned down so she could rest her forehead against his chest. His arms came around her without hesitation, strong and warm and steady.

And for the first time all day, Belle didn’t feel like she had to hold anything together.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: The horse is here.

Emilie: WAIT WHAT???

Max: She’s perfect. Big eyes. Very soft nose. Looks at me like she knows I have no idea what I’m doing.

Emilie: Oh my god. Congrats! You now own 1.5 sentient drama llamas! I didn’t think you’d pull it off this fast!!

Max: Neither did I. I just nodded and wired the money whenever someone looked at me confused.

Emilie: Bold of you to admit that. How’s Fleur settling in?

Max: Good so far. The stable manager is in love with her. She’s very sweet…very gentle. But listen—can you help me with something?

Emilie: That depends. Do I need a forklift?

Max: No forklifts. But maybe a… horse stylist?

Emilie: ...Max.

Max: I want to get her everything she needs. Feed, brushes, gear, blankets, treats, toys, whatever. But I don’t trust myself not to forget something vital and end up buying her a dog collar by mistake.

Emilie: You think a grooming kit is the same thing as a dog leash???

Max: I bought a horse off emotional impulse, Emilie. Anything’s possible.

Emilie: Fair. Okay. Emergency horse wardrobe coming right up.

Max: You’re a lifesaver.

Emilie: I know. What’s the budget?

Max: No budget.

Emilie: …Max.

Max: Buy her the kind of things you’d buy if you were spoiling a horse for someone you love. Go full chaos. Embroidered halter, custom saddle pads. I don’t care.

Emilie: You just said the words “go full chaos” to me. You realize this is going to spiral.

Max: If the horse ends up with a Swarovski encrusted hoof pick, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Emilie: I’m making a list. She needs turnout rugs. Stable rugs. Lightweight blankets. Fly masks. Brushing boots. Halter. Lead rope. Hay net. Saddle pad. Grooming kit. Oh—and a personalized nameplate. Obviously.

Max: I’m overwhelmed.

Emilie: I haven’t even started color coordination yet.

Max: Color coordination???

Emilie: You think I’m putting Belle’s horse in random mismatched gear like some common gelding??

Max: …No?

Emilie: Good answer.

Max: Make her look like she belongs to someone who loves her.

Emilie: That’s easy. She does.

Max: Also... get something for the foal too. It’s still baking, but I want it to have everything once it shows up.

Emilie: You're going to be the most unhinged horse dad in the south of France.

Max: That’s the goal.

Emilie: Okay. I’ll drop everything and build Fleur’s shopping cart of dreams. Expect a delivery van full of horse nonsense by tomorrow.

Max: Thank you. Seriously. I just want everything to be perfect.

Emilie: It will be. She’s going to lose it. In the best way.

Max: That’s the plan.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Lando Norris

Max: Hey. You know about horses, right?

Lando: … Why would I know about horses?

Max: Because your sister and your mum ride. That makes you, like… horse adjacent.

Lando: Max. MAX. Being horse adjacent is not the same as being a horse expert.

Max: Do you know how to tell if a pregnant horse is okay?

Lando: MAX WHAT

Max: I got Belle a horse. Actually two. Well, one horse, and she’s pregnant, so technically 1.5 horses.

Lando: I’m sorry back up- You WHAT? YOU BOUGHT A PREGNANT HORSE???

Max: Yes. For her birthday. It’s the foal of her childhood horse. The horse passed away, but the daughter is alive. So I bought her. Fleur. That’s her name.

Lando: Jesus Christ.

Max: She’s perfect. But she’s in foal and due later this summer and now I’m spiraling.

Lando: Okay okay okay. Deep breaths. Why are you spiraling??

Max: Is it normal for her to not eat as much hay? She was eating like crazy when she arrived and now she’s just… slower. Max:  She seems fine. She’s drinking. She let me pet her today. Max:  But what if she’s not fine and I miss something and the foal is in danger and Belle gets attached and then—

Lando: MAX

Max: WHAT IF I’M A BAD HORSE DAD

Lando: Okay first of all: You are very much not a horse dad. You are a stressed boyfriend with access to wire transfers and too much emotional capacity

Max: Unhelpful.

Lando: Second: Flo and my mum both ride. Hang on, I’ll ask.

(Two minutes pass.)

Lando: Okay. Flo says: “Mares get weird when they’re in late pregnancy. Appetite changes, temperament shifts, they get clingy or distant. As long as she’s drinking water and not acting colicky or in pain, she’s probably fine.”

Max: What does colicky mean?

Lando: Horse tummy ache apparently. Signs: pawing at the ground, lying down and getting up a lot, rolling on her side, not passing gas or poop.

Max: She’s not doing any of that.

Lando: Cool. Then Flo says you can stop freaking out and maybe go touch grass.

Max: I would but I’m watching her through the stall window to make sure she blinks evenly.

Lando: You need a hobby.

Max: This is my hobby now. I’m going to be the best horse dad Monaco’s ever seen.

Lando: You’re terrifying. Flo says you should talk to a vet if you’re this stressed. There are equine pregnancy specialists.

Max: I already booked one. They’re coming Thursday. And I bought her a new salt lick. And a bigger water bucket. And more bedding. Just in case she’s nesting.

Lando: Nest??? You think she’s a raccoon now???

Max: SHE’S CARRYING A TINY HORSE INSIDE HER I DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE NEEDS

Lando: Okay wow. This is actually incredible You’re losing your mind and it’s so pure

Max: She’s not just a horse. She’s Belle’s horse. She’s family now. And her foal will be, too

Lando: Max Verstappen, 3x World Champion, is scared of a pregnant horse.

Max: You don’t understand. If anything happens to that horse, Belle will never recover. And I’ll never forgive myself.

Lando: Okay, I’m texting Flo again. You need like. A Horse Dad Hotline. She’s gonna make a guide. Expect a PDF.

Max: Perfect. I’ll print it. And laminate it.

Lando: You’re completely unhinged and I love it. Belle has no idea what she’s in for, does she?

Max: Nope. But I do. And I’m not screwing this up.

***

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 and Kimi Räikkönen)

Lando: UPDATE. Max has officially entered his next evolutionary stage: Horse Dad

Carlos: what???

George: what do you mean Horse Dad.

Lando: HE TEXTED ME FOR HORSE ADVICE. Apparently  he bought Belle a horse for her birthday next week…and said horse is pregnant. AND NOW HE’S SPIRALING.

Oscar: he bought her a pregnant horse???

Lewis: This man does not know how to do things at 50%.

Alex: Imagine being an unborn foal and your literal horse granddad is Max Verstappen.

Daniel: What was he panicking about ?

Lando: "Is it normal for her to eat less hay?" "She blinked too slowly." "Am I a bad horse dad." "I think she’s nesting." "I bought her a new salt lick just in case."

Oscar: nesting?? she’s a horse not a squirrel??

Sebastian: This is beautiful. I love this for him. And for the horse.

Checo: Didn’t he just buy this horse last week???

Lando: YEP. And he’s already at the stage of “watching her breathe through the stall window like a Victorian widow.”

David: I’m crying. Verstappen, World Champion, afraid of pregnant mare.

Checo: He deserves this stress. This is what happens when you spend 300k on a pregnant horse with no clue what you’re doing.

Mark: That foal is going to be raised like equine royalty.

Fernando: It will be a champion. I can feel it.

Alex: Do NOT let Max hear that. He’ll start building it a trophy shelf.

George: How did we get here

Lando: Anyway I told Flo and my mum and now they’re making him a Horse Dad PDF Guide

Alex: Max Verstappen: Race car driver, emotionally fragile boyfriend, horse dad with laminated charts.

Nico H: I’ve never been more afraid of him

Oscar: I just want to see Belle’s face when she finds out

Lewis: She's going to cry

 And then thank him And then cry again And then probably cry on the horse

Lando: And Max will cry because she’s crying. And the horse will just blink slowly like “why are the loud mammals leaking”

Oscar: i love love.

Fernando: We are watching the evolution of a man.

Daniel: Max Verstappen used to destroy the grid. Now he panics about hay consumption

Sebastian: This is growth.

Sebastian: Should we all send baby gifts for the foal?

Lewis: You mean we’re not already?

Fernando: I have already arranged a custom halter and embroidered blanket.

***

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri

Lando: Okay this might be a stupid question

Oscar: Those are your specialty, go on

Lando: Should we get Belle a birthday gift?

Oscar: Like… us? Together??

Lando: Yeah. Like a joint thing. I don’t know. A friend gift. A “we know your family’s exhausting but we like you” gift.

Oscar: Honestly? I like it. She deserves it. Especially after Max went full Horse Dad™

Lando: Right?? Like, I’m not trying to compete with two horses but like… a little gift?

Oscar: Yeah, yeah. Something thoughtful. Wait—hang on. Lily’s reading this over my shoulder now.

Lily (via Oscar): YES. GET HER SOMETHING. I LOVE HER.

Lando: I mean that tracks. Everyone who meets Belle ends up weirdly attached.

Oscar: Max didn’t even stand a chance

Lily (still hijacking): Ask your sister for horse-related gift ideas!!!

Lando: You mean Flo?

Oscar: Yeah, Lily says she’ll know what would be good for a new horse owner or something cute Belle can use at the stable.

Lily (via Oscar):  Or something for the baby horse!!! They imprint, right??? GET THE FOAL TO IMPRINT ON YOU GUYS.

Lando: I don’t think we can plan imprinting, Lily.

Oscar: She says that sounds like quitter energy.

Lando: Okay but seriously I will text Flo.

Oscar: We could do like… a fancy grooming kit?

Lando: Or like a custom halter for the foal? 

Oscar: That’s actually so cute. What if we get it in Max’s helmet colors?

Lando: STOP I’M EMOTIONAL

Oscar: Lily is now googling “tiny horse birthday hats” so things are escalating. 

Lando: Belle gets Max, two horses, and emotional support F1 drivers

Oscar: Our love language is semi-coordinated panic

Lando: Okay. I’ll ask Flo for ideas. Lily can continue the hat research.

Oscar: She’s already measuring things on the screen. I think we’re locked in.

***

Belle closed her laptop with a soft sigh, the click of the hinge sounding louder than it should’ve. The apartment was calm—Max behind her, drying dishes from dinner—but inside her head, everything felt overfull.

She crossed to the counter, reached for a glass, and filled it slowly at the sink. Her shoulders ached. Her chest felt tight. Not in a dramatic way—just… tired. The kind of tired that curled up somewhere inside and stayed, no matter how many hours of sleep she got.

Max’s voice was gentle, behind her. “You okay?”

She nodded before answering. “I ordered something for Mother’s Day.”

He turned from the cupboard, brow raised. “For your mother?”

Belle hesitated, and that was enough for him to catch it.

“Yes,” she said, carefully. “For Maman. From all of us.”

There was a pause. She could feel his eyes on her even as she kept hers on the water glass.

“From you and your brothers?” Max asked quietly.

Belle nodded again. “Yeah.”

Another pause.

When she glanced back, Max was just watching her. Not angry. Not judgmental. Just… knowing.

“You’re still saving them,” he said.

Belle straightened slightly. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not,” she repeated, too fast. “I just… I don’t want another disaster. I don’t have the energy for more awkwardness or guilt. I just want it to be done. Clean.”

“You’re the only reason it won’t be a disaster,” Max said softly.

Belle looked down at the water glass. Her hand was trembling slightly. She hadn’t realized.

“I’m just so tired, Max,” she said, and the words came out smaller than she meant them to. Like admitting it made her feel even more fragile.

Max stepped toward her and touched her wrist, grounding her.

“Then why spend what little energy you have on something that only drains you more?”

“Because if I don’t,” she whispered, “Maman will be disappointed. And my brothers will make jokes. And the silence will feel like blame. It’s easier this way.”

“It’s not easier,” Max said. “It’s just more familiar.”

Belle didn’t answer. Her throat felt tight.

Max pulled her gently into his arms, wrapping her in the kind of hug that made everything quiet for a second. Belle leaned into it like someone letting go of something heavy she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying.

“You don’t have to fix everything to be a good daughter,” he murmured into her hair. “Or a good sister.”

She closed her eyes.

“Don’t remind them,” he added, quietly but firmly.

She pulled back slightly to look up at him. “What?”

“Don’t message the group chat. Don’t nudge them. Don’t drop hints. Let them forget. Let them feel what it’s like when you don’t carry it for them.”

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “They’ll blame me.”

“Then let them,” Max said, brushing her hair back from her face. “You don’t owe them your peace.”

“I don’t know if I can ignore it,” she whispered. “It’ll just sit there in my chest like a rock. The whole day.”

“Then I’ll carry it,” he said. “Let me carry it for you.”

Belle’s eyes burned.

“Maybe next year,” she said softly. “Maybe next year I’ll be strong enough not to do it at all.”

Max didn’t push. He just nodded, kissed her temple, and held her tighter.

She didn’t have to say thank you. He already knew.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Max: Happy Mother’s Day, Mama ❤️ Hope you’re relaxing this morning.

Sophie: Thank you, sweetheart 💕 Just had breakfast with Tom & Victoria. Luka made me a card 🥹

Max: He’s a better artist than me already 😂 Your gift should’ve arrived by now. Did it get there?

Sophie: Yes! Just opened it ☺️You didn’t have to get me anything 😌

Max: Yeah, but you deserve it. Spa weekend for you and Vic—Belle helped me pick it. She remembered you mentioned it in passing once.

Sophie: Wait, the place in Provence? With the mineral baths?

Max: That’s the one. Belle remembered the name and everything. She’s… kinda incredible at that.

Sophie: Belle remembered that from months ago?

Max: She remembers everything. She’s scary-good at it.

Sophie:She really is the sweetest. You should’ve booked for three. Belle should come with us.

Max: I suggested it. She said she didn’t want to intrude.

Sophie: She would say that 😤 Tell her I’m demanding she join. It’s non-negotiable.

Max: …You sure? You and Vic don’t want a mother-daughter trip?

Sophie: She is like a daughter to me, Max. And Victoria loves her. You know that.

Max: Okay, okay. I’ll tell her.

Sophie:  I’m adore her. She fits. Like she’s always been here.

Max: Yeah. Feels like that to me too.

Sophie: So bring her over soon. I want to give her a proper hug for this gift. And for looking after you.

Max: I’ll try to drag her away from the horses. 

Sophie: Of course she is. Tell her thank you from me. Truly.

Max: Will do ❤️ Love you.

Sophie: Love you too, Maxie. ***

Text Messages: Charles Leclerc & Alexandra Saint Mleux

Charles: Merde. Is it Mother’s Day today???

Alexandra: Yes.

Charles: No one said anything?! Isabelle didn’t remind us this year. She always reminds us.

Alexandra: She’s not your personal assistant, Charles.

Charles: But she knows I forget stuff like this. She usually sends the group chat the schedule with reminders and emoji codes and—

Alexandra: She shouldn’t have to. You’re almost thirty. You should know when Mother’s Day is without your sister hand-holding you through it.

Charles: Okay, but she always does it. And this year she suddenly decides she’s “setting boundaries” and just lets me walk off a cliff??

Alexandra: You forgot your mother. That’s on you. Don’t you dare try to make it Isabelle’s fault because she finally decided to stop mothering you.

Charles: Wow. Okay. Didn’t realize you were on her side.

Alexandra: I’m not “taking sides.” I’m telling you that blaming your sister for your failure is weak. And unfair.

Charles: I’m stressed, okay? I forgot, I feel like crap, and now you’re yelling at me.

Alexandra: No. I’m calling you out because this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled this. The second something goes wrong, you look for someone else to blame.

Charles: That’s not fair.

Alexandra: Isn’t it? Last month it was your trainer’s fault for not updating your calendar. Before that, it was your PR team for not reminding you about a shoot. Now it’s your sister for not telling you Mother’s Day was coming?

Charles: I just didn’t expect this from you.

Alexandra: You mean honesty? Accountability?

Charles: I don’t need a lecture right now.

Alexandra: Maybe not. But you need to grow up.

Charles: Are you seriously turning this into a moral crisis?

Alexandra: You forgot Mother’s Day. You blamed the one person who used to quietly make sure you didn’t screw it up. And when I told you the truth, you made me the problem too.

Charles: Alex…

Alexandra: I love you, but I’m not going to pretend this version of you isn’t exhausting sometimes. Figure it out, Charles.

Charles: Wait—are you seriously mad enough to—

Alexandra: I’m not leaving. But I’m done coddling you.

Charles: ...Okay.

Alexandra: Start with a phone call to your mother.

Charles: Yeah. Okay.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

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

Charles: So… today’s Mother’s Day.

Arthur: Yeah. Not that anyone would’ve remembered.

Lorenzo: Would’ve been nice to get a heads-up this year.

Arthur: Right? A little calendar emoji would’ve gone a long way.

Charles: You always used to remind us, Isabelle.

Lorenzo: Kind of your thing.

Isabelle: I’m not doing that anymore.

Charles: We noticed.

Arthur: You could’ve at least said something.

Isabelle: I did. Before Maman’s birthday. I said I wasn’t organizing family events anymore. I meant it.

Lorenzo: Yeah, but Mother’s Day’s different.

Charles: It’s not like we’re asking you to do everything. Just a reminder. One message.

Arthur: Instead we’re all waking up to guilt and no plan.

Isabelle: Then maybe next year, plan ahead. Put it in your phones like everyone else.

Lorenzo: You didn’t even mention it once this week.

Isabelle: Because it’s not my job.

Charles: You used to care about this kind of thing.

Isabelle: I still care. I just care about my own mental health too.

Arthur: So what, we just look like idiots today?

Isabelle: I sent a gift from all of us. Card, flowers, everything.

Charles: Wait… seriously?

Isabelle: Yes.

Lorenzo: You didn’t tell us.

Isabelle: I just did it because I didn’t want her to feel forgotten.

Arthur: That’s kind of manipulative, Belle. Doing it and not telling us.

Isabelle: What’s manipulative is expecting me to do everything, and then blaming me when I don’t.

Charles: You’re really different lately.

Isabelle: I’m tired. So I handled it, one last time. You’re welcome.

Lorenzo: Well. Thanks, I guess.

Arthur: Next year maybe give us a little warning?

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

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

Pascale: My darlings ❤️ Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers and the card. They arrived this morning and made me cry (in the best way). You always know just what I love. I feel so lucky to have you. 💐✨

Charles: Aw, Maman ❤️ You deserve it!!

Arthur: Glad you liked it 🥹 Happy Mother’s Day!

Lorenzo: Only the best for you, Maman 😘

Pascale: You boys did so well! So thoughtful. And the message in the card… so sweet. Isabelle, you must’ve helped them pick it, didn’t you? It had your touch.

Lorenzo: We definitely had it covered 😌

Charles: Worked as a team.

Arthur: Isabelle deserves the credit though. She’s always the best at that stuff.

Pascale: Well, however you did it—thank you. I feel very loved. The flowers were perfect. Isabelle: Glad you liked them, Maman. Happy Mother’s Day.

Pascale: Love you all. 💕

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: She sent the Mother’s Day gift from all of them.

Emilie: Of course she did. Let me guess: they acted surprised and then took credit?

Max: Yep. Pascale sent a thank-you in the group chat. Her brothers responded like they’d done something.

Emilie: I’m going to scream into a pillow.

Max: Belle didn’t say anything. Just said she was glad Pascale liked it.

Emilie: She’s still saving them.

Max: I know. And they still don’t see it.

Emilie: They don’t want to. It’s easier to let her carry it all and pretend that’s normal.

Max: She told them she wasn’t going to be the family secretary anymore. Then she quietly handled everything anyway. Because she knew they’d drop it. And she didn’t want Pascale to feel forgotten.

Emilie: That’s the curse of being the responsible one. You’re punished whether you do it or not.

Max: Exactly. And now they’ll just expect it again next year.

Emilie: She deserves better.

Max: I keep telling her that.

Emilie: It’s not just about hearing it. She has to believe it. And she doesn’t. Not deep down.

Max: Yeah. I know.

Emilie: How is she?

Max: Quiet. Too quiet. She’s not upset, exactly—just… hollow. Like it’s easier to feel nothing than admit she’s hurt.

Emilie: I hate that I know exactly what that looks like on her.

Max: She just sat down after lunch and said, “It’s done now. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Emilie: That’s Belle for “I’m hanging on by a thread but don’t want to be a burden.”

Max: I wanted to say something. Call them out for her. But she just looked so tired.

Emilie: You’re doing more for her by holding her right now than anything they’ve ever done.

Max: I still wish I could do more.

Emilie: You do more just by noticing. By seeing her.

Max: I don’t want her to keep being the one who holds everything together.

Emilie: Then be the one who holds her together. That’s what she needs. Someone who won’t let her feel invisible.

Max: Yeah. That I can do.

Emilie: Good. Because I swear, if I see another “thanks for the flowers, guys!” message in that family group chat, I’m throwing someone into the harbor.

Max: I’ll drive the boat.

***

The water was warm from the sun, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue, and the city below hummed with distant life—Monaco moving through another glittering afternoon like it always did.

Max floated lazily on his back, eyes closed, one hand trailing through the water, while Belle sat on the pool steps, scowling down at the knot of her bikini top.

She tugged at the strap again, muttering, “This thing is definitely tighter than last time.”

“You said that last week too,” Max murmured without opening his eyes.

“Because it keeps getting tighter.” She frowned down at herself. “Did it shrink in the wash?”

Max cracked one eye open. “You sure it’s the bikini and not you?”

She gave him a look. “Subtle.”

“I’m just saying, maybe the girls are staging a growth spurt.”

Belle rolled her eyes, but her fingers paused against the fabric. They were… sore. More than usual. And she’d been bloated for days. And tired.

It was probably hormones. Or stress. Or the five cookies she’d eaten for lunch.

Max swam closer and rested his arms on the edge of the step beside her, his chin propped lazily against them. “If it’s bothering you, just take it off. No one can see up here.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You wish.”

“I absolutely do,” he said cheerfully.

She flicked water at him and leaned back, letting the sun warm her shoulders. The strap still dug in a little, but she tried to ignore it.

Max let his eyes drift closed again. “This is nice. Quiet. Feels like we’re the only people up here.”

Belle sighed. “We kinda are. You made sure of it, remember? ‘Private rooftop pool, non-negotiable.’”

“Worth every euro.”

She reached out and laced her fingers with his underwater. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

After a moment, she said, “You know my birthday’s on Monaco GP weekend this year?”

He groaned softly. “That’s criminal scheduling.”

She smiled faintly. “Right? Sunday. Race day.”

He looked at her. “Do you want to celebrate after the race? I could try to arrange something small—”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “No pressure. Let’s just do something the day after. Quiet. Just us.”

Max tilted his head. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” She kicked her legs slowly in the water. “Honestly, I don’t care about parties. I just want to sleep in, eat something sweet, and maybe hang out with the horses.”

He grinned. “You want a Belle Day.”

“Exactly.”

“I can deliver a Belle Day,” he said. “I will make an itinerary. I’ll laminate it.”

She laughed, and he leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Day after Monaco,” he said. “It’s yours.”

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/OscarPiastri: Searching my family tree to find any trace of Monégasque roots

@/Charles_Leclerc: I can adopt you if needed. 

@/OscarPiastri: No need, mate — your sister already agreed to!

@/Charles_Leclerc: what

@/F1fanatic91: I’m sorry. WHAT.

@/girlsonpole: charles's WHAT????

@/chaoticprancinghorse: Isabelle Leclerc SAID SHE WOULD ADOPT OSCAR??? excuse me??????

@OscarPiastri (replying to himself a few minutes later): for context: Belle showed me around monaco when i first moved. Gave me the full tour. Taught me where to find the best bakery, the best dry cleaners, and which shortcuts avoid tourists. Basically made it feel like home. honorary monegasque confirmed. (Also later adopted my girlfriend, who I am quite sure, she likes more than me.) 

@/raceweekendchaos: charles offering to adopt oscar like a good pal only for oscar to casually reveal he’s already been adopted by belle leclerc is SENDING me

@/tifositalks: charles: i can adopt you oscar: too late mate your sister said yes charles: error 404 charles.exe has stopped working

@/piastriblues: i have been alive for 21 years and never felt this much secondhand embarrassment for charles leclerc

@/f1fluff:  this is so accidentally wholesome it hurts

@/gridgossip: ISABELLE GAVE OSCAR A WELCOME TO MONACO TOUR??? ARE YOU KIDDING THAT'S SO CUTE

@monacominis:  oscar piastri having isabelle leclerc as a big sister figure is EXACTLY the kind of off-track crossover i live for

@chillycharles: charles was offering adoption papers but isabelle already issued a citizenship through pastries and dry cleaning recs. elite move.

@/Charles_Leclerc (finally replying):  I see I am no longer needed. (Enjoy the bakery recommendations, they are very good.)

@/OscarPiastri: Thanks, mate. You're a great backup option.

@/scuderiawifey: ok but this is actually adorable??? like belle really just took oscar under her wing????

@/wheelnutsanon: also charles reacting like he just learned he has a secret second sibling is killing me

@/gridgossip: BREAKING: Oscar Piastri has been unofficially adopted into the Leclerc family. Charles found out through Twitter.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

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

Charles: What is this about you “adopting” Oscar??

Isabelle: Hello to you too, Charles.

Charles: Seriously, Isabelle. Twitter thinks you’ve absorbed him into the family. You couldn’t mention that?

Isabelle: He asked me where to get pastries when he moved here. I answered. That’s not exactly international news.

Lorenzo: So you adopted him through croissants and Google Maps. Makes sense.

Charles: And the internet’s obsessed with it. Again. This is exactly how the Lando rumors started.

Isabelle: Charles.

Charles: No—don’t “Charles” me. You’re always like this. You do some tiny thing in public, the fans lose their minds, and I get blindsided before quali.

Charles: This is not a joke. It’s race weekend. At home. I don’t need distractions right now.

Isabelle: Then maybe stop scrolling Twitter two hours before FP?

Charles: I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t always causing speculation.

Lorenzo: Are we back on the “Belle is dating Lando” thing?

Charles: YES. Because people think she adopted Oscar and is soft-launching into the Norris family.

Isabelle: I’m not dating Lando. Or Oscar. Or anyone in orange.

Charles: Can you just be low-profile until Sunday? 

Charles: I want to win at home without the press asking if my sister is secretly engaged to my teammate’s former teammate. Is that too much to ask?

Isabelle: Don’t worry, Charles. I’ll keep a low profile.

***

Belle exhaled slowly, settling onto a high stool of McLaren’s hospitality.

“This is so much calmer than Ferrari,” she murmured.

Lily tilted her head. “Too much espresso and shouting over there?”

“Too much everything. Ferrari feels like performance art fueled by adrenaline and barely restrained stress. The walls are tense. Even the coffee judges you.”

Lily laughed. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Our chaos is cozy. Loud, but cozy.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a moment, letting the hum of track activity drift over them.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Then, casually—too casually—Belle said, “So… do you happen to know if Lando is single?”

Lily blinked, turned her head very slowly. “I beg your what?”

Belle smiled innocently behind her sunglasses. “Just curious.”

“Is this like... a casual curiosity or a capital-C Conspiracy curiosity?”

“It’s for a friend,” Belle said sweetly.

“Oh my god.” Lily’s grin widened. “Your Emilie?! The one with the arched eyebrow and emotional X-ray vision?!”

“The very same. She asked about him after Miami and then insult-complimented him. Which means she’s intrigued.”

Lily gasped. “That’s basically a declaration of intent.”

“I thought so too,” Belle said smugly.

“She’d eat him alive.”

“He’d love it.”

Lily clutched her chest. “This is my favorite subplot of the season. And yes, as far as I know… Lando is tragically, gloriously single.”

Belle grinned. “Perfect. I’m just collecting data. Like a responsible friend.”

“You’re terrifying.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Belle finished the last sip of her iced coffee and stood, stretching slightly before reaching for her sunglasses case.

“I should head back,” she said, a little regret in her voice. “If I’m gone too long, someone at Ferrari will think I’ve defected.”

Lily grinned. “You’d be welcome. Just saying.”

Belle gave her a wink. “Good to know.”

They hugged briefly, and Belle made her way down the narrow stairs of the McLaren motorhome, back toward the paddock’s center. The roar of engines was slightly muffled here—just enough to hear the hum of conversation, the clicking of photographers resetting lenses, the low static of radios. She moved easily, weaving between teams and team staff.

She’d just passed the Pirelli tent when she spotted him, unmistakable despite the sunglasses and cap—Jos Verstappen, chatting with a Red Bull staffer, nodding at something on a clipboard. He looked up as she approached, pausing mid-sentence.

He was not an easy man—everyone knew it.

She’d seen the way people stiffened when he walked past. Heard the stories. Max never sugarcoated them. His childhood hadn’t been easy; Jos was hard, demanding, relentless. Too much, sometimes.

And yet, Max still loved him.

Not blindly. Not without scars. But intentionally.

Max called him after every race. He texted him when things went wrong

Max loved him.

That was the part Belle always circled back to. Not in blind forgiveness—but in this fierce, complicated loyalty that had shaped who he was. Max could talk about his father’s mistakes and still want to protect him in the same breath.

And Belle, Belle who had lost her own father earlier than she should have…she understood that. The absence still ached. Quietly. Persistently.

Belle had never been on the receiving end of Jos’s temper. Never once. He’d been gruff, sure—especially the first time they met. But not unkind. Not to her.

She suspected that made her an exception.

The paddock thought Jos was all bark, all judgment. But Belle had sat beside him during lunch more than once, sipping coffee while he quizzed Max on fuel mapping like it was a Sunday crossword. She’d seen the sharpness soften when Max smiled, heard the pride he buried under complaints about tire strategy.

It was strange, maybe, but she liked him. Not in a warm, fuzzy way—but in the way you respect a hurricane for what it is and appreciate it when it spares your house.

There was a rare kind of steadiness in people who didn’t lie to themselves about who they were. And Jos knew exactly who he was.

He’d been brutal with Max at times. Too harsh, too strict. But Belle had watched Max pour all that pressure into discipline, pour all that history into determination—and then let her be the place where he could rest.

And Jos saw that. Maybe that’s why he liked her.

He looked up as she approached, the stern line of his mouth twitching into something just short of a smile. For him, it might as well have been a beam of sunshine.

“Belle,” Jos said, his voice rough but warm. “There you are.”

“Hello, Jos,” she greeted, easy and open.

He stepped toward her with the kind of casual nod that could almost pass for affection. “Thought you were with Ferrari.”

“I was. Took a detour.”

Jos huffed. “McLaren has better lighting. Can’t blame you.”

They stepped to the side, out of the path of two mechanics wheeling a cart. Belle found herself watching him for a moment—his weathered face, the tightness still in his shoulders. 

She knew what people said about him, knew what he’d been like with Max as a child. Strict to the point of brutal. All pressure, all fire.

But Max still called him Papa sometimes, when he was tired or fond.

Still lit up when Jos showed up on a race weekend, even if he didn’t say it.

Love could look strange from the outside. And still be real.

She never pretended to understand it. But she respected it.

“You look good,” Jos said, nodding to her. “Max said Monaco’s treating you both well. ”

Belle smiled slightly, brushing a wind-blown strand of hair behind her ear. “It has been.”

Jos made a noise that might’ve been agreement—or amusement. “How’s Lilly settling in?”

“Still a menace,” Belle replied, smirking. “She shredded one of Max’s Red Bull shirts last week. Looked very pleased with herself afterward.”

He studied her then, for a long moment. Not judging—just weighing. Jos never said anything he didn’t mean. Which made what he said next hit harder than it had any right to.

“I know I wasn’t an easy father,” Jos said, eyes fixed ahead, as if the admission would be easier without eye contact. “I pushed too hard. Got too angry. Expected too much.”

Belle didn’t speak. She knew better than to fill silence when someone like Jos offered it willingly.

“But Max…” Jos exhaled. “He still calls. Still wants me at races. Still makes space.”

“He loves you,” Belle said quietly.

Jos nodded once, jaw tight. “He tells me things now,” he said quietly. “Little things. What you made for dinner. What you said when he had a bad sim race. How the cats sleep on your side of the bed.”

Belle felt her chest tighten—but not in a bad way. Just in that quiet, overwhelming way that meant this mattered.

“I used to worry,” Jos went on. “That he’d burn out. Too much, too soon. Like I pushed him past something soft he was supposed to keep. But with you...”

He trailed off. Didn’t finish the sentence. Jos didn’t need to.

Belle understood anyway.

With her, Max had something soft again. Something to rest in. Something to hold.

“I don’t want to be the only soft thing in his life,” Belle said gently. “But I’ll be there, if he needs it.”

Jos nodded. “He does.”

A pause. He looked at her again. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Belle’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”

“He’s steadier with you,” Jos added. “Not softer. But anchored. Like he knows where to land.”

Belle blinked away the sudden sting in her eyes. “He does the same for me.”

Jos’s mouth curved, just a little. “That’s how it should be.”

They stood like that for another few seconds, in the shifting quiet of the paddock—engines humming, people passing, a thousand things moving around them. But it felt still.

Then, as if remembering who he was, Jos cleared his throat and stepped back. “Go on, before someone accuses you of defecting to Red Bull.”

“I’ll deny everything,” Belle promised.

Jos nodded once, a final farewell. “Tell Max to call this evening. He never remembers.”

“He does,” Belle said, turning away with a small smile. “He just likes when you remind him.”

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/MonacoMadness:

Someone zoom in on this pic. She’s laughing at something Lily said.

THE EYE CONTACT.

WAKE UP SHEEPLE.

@/GarageGhouls: Me: they’re just friends. Also me: builds color-coded map of Belle’s appearances near Lando over 18 months

@/SprinkleTheory:

REMEMBER THE SPRINKLE CONVERSATION???

Don’t act like y’all forgot the sprinkles.

Lando and Belle. Ice cream. Eye contact. ENDGAME.

@/CharlesStan97:

Charles could be on fire and no one would notice because y’all are too busy shipping his sister with Lando.

@/OscarPSpyCam:

Meanwhile Oscar is just thrilled his girlfriend and Lando’s or Max’s maybe-girlfriend are bonding over iced coffee and judging everyone.

@/LandoNation94: She was with Lily later too??? Like fully laughing at something together like besties??? What do they know

@/BelleWatch2025: Everyone: She’s dating Max. Me, seeing her chat and giggle with Lily: 👀👀👀

@/MonacoMadness: Belle is either: a) secretly dating Lando b) adopting the entire McLaren team as her emotional support family c) both

@/RedFlaggedRomance: I’m telling you. Belle being with Oscar’s girlfriend all before qualifying?? That’s some soft launch energy

@/OpenYourEyesF1: She’s in the papaya now. The soft colors. The oat milk lattes. The laughing. Ferrari could never.

@/PapayaTheory: So what you’re saying is: Isabelle is now friends with Lily AND STILL INSISTS SHE’S “JUST A FRIEND” Right.

@/gridgossip: DID I JUST SEE ISABELLE LECLERC CHATTING WITH JOS VERSTAPPEN??? and like… smiling??? And he WAS TOO???

@/chaoticprancinghorse: That man growled at a cameraman last year and now he’s out here looking friendly because Belle showed up??? What kind of soft power diplomacy is this???

@/f1girldetective: Belle. Babe. What spell did you cast on Jos Verstappen and is it available in serum form??

@/paddockcryptid: you’re telling me jos verstappen—the same man who looks like he’s planning a coup 80% of the time—was out here smiling??? Because of isabelle leclerc??? i’m ascending

@/maxsmiletracker: First the wallpaper, now they are chatting in the paddock?!?

@/wheelnutsanon: BREAKING: Jos Verstappen spotted having a pleasant conversation with Isabelle Leclerc. Charles Leclerc reportedly still screaming into a pillow somewhere

***

Belle had barely stepped through the glass doors of Ferrari hospitality when Charles turned on her like a heat-seeking missile.

“Why were you talking to Jos Verstappen?”

She blinked. “Hi, Charles. I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

He stalked toward her, cap slightly askew, eyes wild in that very specific way he only got during Monaco weekend meltdown mode™.

“No, seriously. I just saw you outside. With Jos. Why?”

Belle exhaled slowly. “Because we ran into each other. We exchanged words. As people sometimes do.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “It looked longer than words. You were smiling.”

She dropped her bag onto one of the hospitality chairs with more force than necessary. “What exactly do you think is happening here, Charles? Spell it out. Because first it was GP, then Lando, and now—now—you think I’m flirting with Max’s father?!”

“You smiled at him, Belle!”

“I also smile at dogs, coffee, and your PR assistant. That doesn’t mean I’m planning a romantic future with any of them.”

Charles scowled. “You don’t understand. The whole paddock watches you. They speculate. And it distracts me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry my existence is personally offensive to your championship hopes,” Belle said flatly. “Do you want me to start wearing a paper bag over my head?”

Charles blinked. “That’s not—”

“You’re stressed. I get that. Monaco is important to you. But I’m not the enemy here, Charles. I’m not out there giving interviews or calling press conferences. I was walking back from McLaren. I ran into Jos. We talked. That’s it.”

“He’s Max’s dad,” Charles said, like it was the punchline to a joke she didn’t get.

“And Max is a person I know,” Belle replied, tone tight. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Belle gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Nothing. Because I’m not doing this with you.”

“Belle—”

“No, Charles.” Her voice dropped, low and firm. “You’re rude. You’re exhausted. And instead of admitting that, you’re picking a fight with me.”

Charles faltered. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did. But it’s fine. You’ll be insufferable until Sunday and then pretend none of this happened.”

She walked past him, brushing lightly against his shoulder. “Next time, just say you’re scared of losing and stop dragging my coffee chats into it.”

Charles stood frozen, holding his espresso cup like it had betrayed him.

Belle didn’t look back.

[kislnd]

platform roulette - arthur hill~

synopsis: y/n needs to pick the boys up after filming platform roulette, but it is made all the more difficult by a drunk & clingy arthur.

notes: while i write requests here's a lil something for the arthur hill girlies 🫶

warnings: mentions of alcohol, pda

word count: 1.3k (kinda short this time)

masterlist

dragging herself out of such a warm and cosy bed at close to midnight was not exactly y/n's idea of fun, nor her favourite way to spend a friday evening, but it had to be done if she wanted to make sure her boyfriend and friends, arthurtv and george, arrived home safely in their drunk states.

at this time in the morning not much thought was being put into an outfit, the only thing on y/n's mind was collecting the boys and ensuring they were dropped off safely home before clambering into her shared bed with arthur. she settled on one of his hoodies, knowing she would be grateful for its warmth as she stood on the platform later, and some random bottoms she found slung close to her wardrobe. she mentally cursed the boys for choosing to come back on one of the final trains of the night, although she did doubt they even knew the current time.

//

the harsh screeching of the train pulling up to the platform snapped y/n out of her thoughts as the doors open and floods of weary people dragged themselves off the train and stumbled towards the exit. she empathised with them, but felt grateful that her travel to the train station had only been quite short in comparison to their train ride.

naturally, she heard the boys before she saw them - "y/nnn!" arthur shouted across the platform, completely oblivious to the people around him. she giggled softly, they were definitely drunk, it was always quite amusing to see how outspoken and chatty they became after a few drinks. "you didn't leave us for dead!" george grinned cheekily as they approached her. "it was quite tempting actually, my bed was really comfortable so you're lucky i made it," y/n laughed but stopped abruptly as arthur enveloped her in a tight hug, resting his entire body weight on her. it was a miracle her bones hadn't been crushed with the sheer force of the hug. nevertheless, arthur's hugs were one of her most favourite things in the world, even the ones that smelled faintly of beer like this one. his embrace was so warm and comforting - safe would be the perfect way to describe it, like all of her worries melted away in his arms.

"i missed you," arthur mumbled into her shoulder, his grip on her never loosening. "i missed you too," y/n smiled, rubbing her hand along his back soothingly. she let him cling to her for a few seconds, soaking up his warmth before breaking the silence, "let me just say hello to the boys," she spoke softly, hoping arthur would be willing to let go of her. "do you have to?" came the slightly slurred reply from arthur who was looking at her with big, adoring eyes. "yes-" a small smile formed on her face, "i do." her boyfriend groaned - it was almost theatrical, like something of utmost inconvenience had just happened. despite protesting, arthur eventually obliged and unwrapped himself from her, struggling to stand upright himself without swaying slightly.

"honestly he is one of the most dramatic drunk people in the world," arthurtv let out a small laugh, his cheeks were slightly rosy from the alcohol and he was dressed in only a t-shirt, evidently drunk enough to not feel the crisp breeze circulating the station. "and he doesn't shut up about you," george added, "i am never getting drunk with him again,' he joked, laughing to himself. "hey! if you had a pretty girlfriend you wouldn't shut up either!" arthur defended himself as y/n gave george and arthurtv a quick hug, exchanging thank yous (for picking them up, for not leaving arthur for dead, for taking him off their hands).

"right, come on then," y/n began walking out of the station in the direction of the car park, "if we don't go now i will turn into an ice block and we won't make it home." this spurred the boys on to pick up their pace as much as they could without falling on their faces. arthur made an extra effort to reach y/n and draped his arm around her shoulders upon reaching her. "hello again," she smiled, fishing in her pocket to retrieve the car keys. "you're so pretty," arthur paused, "have i already said that?" he asked in a quieter voice, his soft expression replaced by one of confusion. it was impossible not to love it when he was drunk, he became so clingy and extra loving, it was irresistible. "why thank you," y/n giggled, opening the car door for arthur, who was still firmly attached to her shoulders, "mind your head on the way in," - drunk arthur typically also meant clumsy arthur.

after everyone had piled into the car, they began the short journey home, it wasn't too long before everyone had been safely dropped off (especially since the cold air had sobered them up a little) and y/n was helping arthur out of the car and all the way to their shared apartment.

she could see he was no longer at the chatty, bubbly stage of being drunk - his eyelids were heavy and his movements sluggish. "come on," y/n spoke quietly as not to make too much noise or exacerbate the headache she presumed arthur was developing. he nodded and gave her a small smile, allowing her to lead him towards their room. "you get changed and i'll grab you some paracetamol." he obliged, of course, and plopped himself down on the bed so he could remove his shoes.

y/n returned to the bedroom, armed with a glass of water and a box of paracetamol, to a one-shoed arthur perched on the edge of the bed with his head was hung miserably and his eyes shut in defeat. "arthur was right, you are so dramatic," she laughs quietly to herself, she knew arthur was not as good as the other boys at holding his alcohol and with all the running around and general silly antics that they got up to during a platform roulette she could understand why he would be a little worse for wear. "here," y/n popped two pills out of the packet and held it out with the glass for arthur to take.

"thank you," he mumbled, taking them and gulping down the water. after some convincing from y/n, he mustered up what little energy he had remaining and changed into a pair of pyjama bottoms. once done, he reassumed his original position on the edge of the bed and waited for y/n to finish her night routine and tidy the room up a little. "is that my hoodie?" arthur grins, surprisingly seeming slightly better already. "maybe it is," y/n grins back, "that's beside the point, shouldn't you be getting into bed?" she raises her eyebrow at him more playfully than sternly. "it looks better on you than on me, you should keep it," he continues hopefully, not willing to move.

y/n laughs softly, "save your flattery for the morning, it's time to sleep," she quickly replaced her clothes with pyjamas and slid into the bed under the duvet, prompting arthur to do the same. "so now you want to get in huh?" y/n smiles, flicking off the lamp that had been casting a gentle orange glow across the room and shuffling down in the bed to get into a comfortable position. "well yeah, it's different when you're here." arthur hums, immediately pulling y/n closer under the cover so that their bodies touched, the warmth radiating off each of them meshing into one. "thank you for taking care of me," arthur whispers, stroking her hair. "that's what i'm here for," y/n smiles into the darkness, arthur's embrace lulling her to sleep.

[hopelesslyprosaic]

A Different Kind of Queen of Crime- five ways that Dorothy L Sayers changed the way we see Sherlock Holmes

For my first Holmesian post- a crossover with one of my more usual subjects on my other blog! For when one is talking about Sherlock Holmes, in particular Sherlock Holmes scholarship, there are nor many more pivotal names than Dorothy L Sayers. Sure, Christopher Morley may have had a greater impact on Sherlockian culture, and Richard Lancelyn Green on Holmesian scholarship, to name only a few- but Sayers's contributions to scholarship and "the game" were early and underratedly pivotal.

If you're a Sherlock Holmes fan who is unfamiliar with Sayers's influence, or a Sayers fan who had no idea she had any interest in Holmes, keep reading! (And if you're a Sherlock Holmes fan who wants to know what I think about Sayers, check out her tag on my main blog, @o-uncle-newt. Or, more to the point, just read her fantastic books.)

There's a great compilation of Sayers's writing and lecturing on the topic of Holmes called Sayers on Holmes (published by the Mythopoeic Press in 2001), though some of her essays are also available in her collection Unpopular Opinions, which is where I first encountered them. It's not THAT extensive, and it's from an era in which Sherlock Holmes scholarship, such as it was, was still very much nascent. While a lot may have happened since Sayers was writing and talking about Holmes, she got there early and she made an immediate impact- and here's how:

She helped create and define Sherlockian scholarship: Don't take this from me, take it from the legendary Richard Lancelyn Green! At a joint conference of the Sherlock Holmes Society and Dorothy L Sayers Society, he said that "Dorothy L. Sayers understood better than anyone before her the way of playing the game and her Sherlockian scholarship gave credibility and humor to this intellectual pursuit. Her standing as an authority on the art of detective fiction and as a major practitioner invigorated the scholarship, and her...Holmesian research is the benchmark by which other works are judged. It would be fair to say, as Watson said of Irene Adler, that for Sherlockians she is the woman and that …she 'eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.'" We'll go into a bit more detail on some specific examples below, but one important one is that, as Green notes, Sayers was not only a mystery writer but an acknowledged authority on mystery fiction, whose (magisterial) introduction to The Omnibus of Crime, a then-groundbreaking history of the genre of mystery fiction, included a highly regarded section on the influence of Holmes on mystery fiction. She was able to write not just literate detective stories but literate critiques of others' stories and the genre (as collected in the excellent volume Taking Detective Stories Seriously), and as such, the writing she did on Holmes was well received.

She cofounded the (original iteration of) the Sherlock Holmes Society of London: While the current iteration of the Society lists itself as having been founded in 1951, a previous iteration existed through the 1930s, founded as a response to the creation of the Baker Street Irregulars in New York and run by a similar concept- the meeting of Sherlock Holmes fans every so often for dinner at a restaurant. Sayers, who seems to have been much more clubbable than Mycroft Holmes, helped run the Detection Club on corresponding lines as well. (Fun fact, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was invited to be the first president of the Detection Club! However, he refused on grounds of poor health and, either right before or right after he died, the Detection Club met for the first time with GK Chesterton as president.) While the 1930s society didn't last, and Sayers didn't decide to join the newly reconstituted club in 1951, her presence from the beginning was key to the establishment of Holmesian scholarship.

She helped define The Game: Sayers didn't invent The Game, as the use of Higher Criticism in the study of Sherlock Holmes came to be called. (The Game now often refers to something a bit broader than that, but it's a pretty solid working definition to say that it is the study of Holmes stories as though they took place in, and can be reconciled with, our world.) Her friend Father Ronald Knox largely invented it almost by accident- as Sayers described it, he wrote that first essay "with the aim of showing that, by those methods [Higher Criticism], one could disintegrate a modern classic as speciously as a certain school of critics have endeavoured to disintegrate the Bible." This exercise backfired, as instead of finding this analysis of Holmes stories silly, people found it compelling and engaging- and this style of Sherlockian writing lives on to this day in multiple journals. Sayers, with her interest in religious scholarship as well as Holmes, was well equipped to both understand Knox's original motivations as well as to carry on in the spirit in which further Game players would take his work, as we'll see. She also wrote the line that would come to define the tone used in The Game- that it "must be played as solemnly as a county cricket match at Lord's; the slightest touch of extravagance or burlesque ruins the atmosphere." While comedic takes on The Game would never vanish, her establishment of tone has lingered, and pretty much any in-depth explanation of The Game will include her insightful comment.

Some of Sayers's ideas became definitional: Here's a question- what's John Watson's middle name? If you said "Hamish," guess what- you should be thanking Dorothy L Sayers. (When this middle name was used for Watson in the BBC Sherlock episode The Sign of Three, articles explaining its use generally didn't bother to credit her, instead saying that "some believe" or a variation on that.) She was the one who speculated that the reason why a) Watson's middle initial is H and b) Mary Morstan Watson calls Watson "James" instead of "John" in one story is because Watson's middle name is Hamish, a Scottish variant of James, with Mary's use of James being an intimate pet name based on this nickname. It's as credible as any other explanation for that question, but more than that it became by far the most popular middle name for Watson used in fan media. Others of Sayers's ideas include that Watson only ever married twice, with his comments about experience with women over four continents being just a lot of bluster and him really being a faithful romantic who married the first woman he really fell for (the aim of this essay being to demolish HW Bell's theory of a marriage to an unknown woman between Mary Morstan and the unnamed woman Watson married in 1903, mentioned by Holmes in The Blanched Soldier); that Holmes attended Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge (she denied that he could have attended Oxford, having gone there herself- fascinatingly, Holmesians who went to Cambridge usually assert that he attended Oxford! Conan Doyle of course attended neither school); and reconciling dates in canon (making the case that one cannot base a claim for Watson's mixing up on dates on poor handwriting as demonstrated in canonical documents, as it is clear from the similarity of different handwriting samples from different people/stories that they were written, presumably transcribed for publication purposes, by a copyist).

She wrote one of the only good Holmes pastiches: Okay, fine, I'm unusually anti-pastiche, and genuinely do like very few of them, but this is one that I love- and even more than that, it's even a Wimsey crossover! On January 8 1954, to commemorate the occasion of Holmes's 100th birthday (because, of course, he was born on January 6 1854- Sayers was more in favor of an 1853 birthdate but thought 1854 was acceptable), the BBC commissioned a bunch of pieces for the radio, including one by Sayers. You can read it here (with thanks to @copperbadge for posting it, it's shockingly hard to find online), and I think you'll agree it's adorable. The idea of Holmes and Wimsey living in the same world is wonderful, the way she makes it work is impeccable, and it's clearly done with so much love. Also you get baby Peter, which is just incredibly sweet!

I got into Dorothy L Sayers, in the long run, because I loved Sherlock Holmes from childhood and that later launched me into early and golden age mysteries- but it was discovering Sayers that brought me back full force into the world of Holmes. Just an awesome lady.

[sammylkcho]

Hiii I love ur platonic and possessive Astro with younger!reader and that got me thinking..How about platonic and possessive Sprout with a Baby girl!reader as his sibling?? And it feels a bit silly.. but I’m allowed to be silly and you too :D!!

-✨

I like the idea, and I'd also love to get creative by imagining that baby!reader would have an appearance similar to a seed, with just one or two leaves that look like hair due to the way strawberries grow

And I took my own creative liberties when writing about Sprout, btw

Warnings/Notes: Babygirl!reader, possesive Sprout (platonic), pronuns she/her with Y/N [Reader], a bit OOC

Gardenview had never been this busy on a holiday weekend—unless there was some kind of event or pending task to be done. But this time, it was just a normal day.

Not to mention that the Toons’ Handlers rarely showed up unless it was under strict orders from Delilah or Arthur. So, naturally, all the Toons were trying to figure out what was going on or what was keeping the staff running back and forth without stopping.

Even the Mains weren’t getting any attention! And considering they were usually the Handlers' top priority, everyone was equally surprised.

"Dandy, are you sure Devan didn’t mention anything?" Poppy asked, resting her face in the palm of her hands, clearly curious and anxious to know what was happening outside.

"Ah… Poppy, I’m going to give you the same answer I gave you the last ten times: no." Dandy replied, flipping through drawings that various kids had made during their visits to Gardenview and left behind.

"Nothing bad happened, right? Delilah rarely meets with our Handlers…"

"Stop worrying that music box of yours, Boxten! I already told you everything’s going to be fine!"

Poppy tried to reassure Boxten, hoping to keep him from spiraling into an anxious, worry-filled state.

The atmosphere was starting to grow tense as everyone began coming up with their own theories and speculations about what could be happening. The fact that no one knew anything, and that it was all so sudden—even for the Mains—was far too strange.

"Uuuuh… What dumb designs, looks like a radish."

"Yeah, a really ugly and dumb radish."

"Oh man, they look so ridiculous with those little flowers around them!"

Suddenly, not-so-discreet murmurs and laughter from Gigi and Connie started echoing louder through the room, causing all the Toons to go silent just to hear what they were talking about. Not only did it spark curiosity about their conversation, but also about whatever it was they were laughing at.

Vee, who had been standing with Shelly and Sprout just moments ago, walked over to the two Toons with a deep frown, filled with suspicion over whatever they were scheming.

"Ahem. Do you two plan on showing us what you’ve got?" Vee demanded, crossing her arms as her gaze flicked between Gigi and Connie.

A brief silence settled between them as they exchanged glances, before Connie sighed and Gigi pouted slightly, reluctantly revealing the papers they had been holding.

"Let’s just say I took a little stroll through Delilah’s office while they were busy and found… this." Connie explained with a teasing lilt, barely holding back a laugh at Vee’s deepening frown upon realizing she had been snooping around in Delilah’s office.

Vee immediately started scolding Connie, yelling at her about how she shouldn’t be digging through the founders’ (their creators’) belongings, since it was strictly forbidden. Not to mention—it was also stealing. She also blamed Gigi, accusing her of plotting to rummage through Delilah and Arthur’s things while all of this was going on.

While that whole scene was unfolding, Sprout noticed a sheet of paper that Connie had set aside while reluctantly enduring Vee’s scolding. Curious, he moved closer, picking it up to examine it in more detail.

The details on the page left him completely stunned—no, more than stunned.

In the upper left corner, the name Y/N Seedly was written. Meanwhile, the center of the page was filled with designs of this Y/N, depicting a rather childlike appearance. The design closely resembled a growing plant, with its greenish tones and the tiny leaves that barely looked like hair. Below that, Delilah and Arthur’s signatures were present, along with a couple of extra notes marked as "to be added" or simply labeled as "notes" about Y/N.

“She doesn’t look any older than Toodles… She actually seems smaller than that ‘Y/N.’ I’d even say the kids who visit Gardenview are older than this one, and Gardenview accepts kids as young as five…”

Rodger’s sudden voice snapped Sprout out of his thoughts, making him aware of the growing warmth he was feeling—and the countless eyes now locked onto the paper he was holding.

“Wha- WHY ARE YOU ALL STANDING BEHIND ME?” Sprout exclaimed sharply, only just realizing the sheer number of curious Toons gathered behind and beside him, all trying to get a look at what he had in his hands.

Rodger continued mumbling possible conclusions based on the most logical explanations, but Sprout wasn’t paying attention anymore. His focus was entirely on the name written on the page.

Why did they have his last name? Were they supposed to be related in some way, or was it just a coincidence—?

“Alright, that’s enough chattering, everyone. We’ve got a new friend! But hush, okay?”

A new voice—one that was very well-known among them—rang out, immediately quieting all the murmurs and scattered conversations as the Toons turned their attention toward Devan.

Sam entered the room, cradling a small bundle wrapped in a soft red blanket with white polka dots. From the gentle rise and fall of the bundle, it was clear that he was holding someone.

Sprout was the first to step forward, moving toward his Handler to get a closer look at what he was keeping so carefully hidden. He already had a slight suspicion about what—or who—it was.

Sam knelt down to Sprout’s height, gently bringing the tiny figure closer. Nestled within the soft cotton blanket was a small being, peacefully asleep.

“Hey, looks like you finally have a family of your own,” Sam murmured, offering Sprout a soft smile. “Meet Y/N Seedly—your new sister.”

He spoke the last part in a quieter voice, knowing that Sprout didn’t like hearing his last name spoken aloud, especially in front of everyone.

“Uh… Am I holding her right?” Sprout asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he carefully adjusted his grip, unsure of how to properly carry his new little sister.

“Perfect. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

Sam stood up, ready to share the news with the rest of the Toons. Meanwhile, the Mains gathered around Sprout, peeking curiously from the sides but careful not to disrupt the little moment he was having.

Sprout’s tail began wagging from side to side as he gazed down at his new sister, like something straight out of a fairy tale. That settled it—he would take very good care of her. Nothing was going to happen to her, not on his watch. He was going to be the best big brother in the entire world.

Slowly, he reached out and gently touched the tiny leaves sprouting from her head—soft, pale green, not yet fully grown. The same went for the small tail she had, barely visible and still too underdeveloped for any properly sized leaves to form.

Carefully, he pulled her closer to his chest, making sure not to wake her and disturb her dreams. That protective feeling inside him only grew stronger. He had to keep her safe. Nothing—not even the smallest harm—was going to touch his little sister.

[sinofwriting]

You Survived! - Arthur Leclerc

Words: 2,046 Summary: After Arthur returns home from Daytona, his girlfriend surprises him with a day where she takes care of everything, including most importantly him. Notes: NSFW, Cockwarming, Arthur being in Daytona and watching him made my brain slightly malfunction and now we have this. ALSO! Thank you Stars (@checkeredflagggs) because you saw me losing my mind over Arthur but not having an idea and you gave me the idea and I fucking ran with it.

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It’s nice to step back into the apartment after over a week away from it, but relief only fills Arthur when he holds her in his arms.

Her arms are wrapped tight around him and he can feel the tension leave from his shoulders as he buries his face in her neck. “I missed you.”

One of her hands runs up and down his back, “I missed you too. You did amazing.”

He wants to deny it, but she doesn’t lie to him and if she thinks he did good, he’ll happily take it. “P7 not too bad for my first time, huh?”

She lets out a small laugh, arms loosening and hands going in between their stomachs, pushing at him a little until he’s standing straight. “I know it’s not what you wanted, never satisfied unless it’s a win, but seventh? With twenty-two entries?” She smiles, eyes shining. “You did amazing.”

“Thank you.” Arthur dips his head, brushing their lips together.

“I’m going to unpack my suitcase and then shower, maybe we go out for lunch and dinner? Walk around between?”

She shakes her head, reaching behind him for his suitcase before he can. “Go shower, I’ll take your suitcase.”

He raises an eyebrow, “are you sure?”

“Yeah. I know you like to shower off, go.”

“Alright.” He drops a kiss to the top of her head. “Thank you, amour.”

Arthur’s shower is quick, easing him. Wrapping his towel around his waist, he steps out of the bathroom, ready to see what she’s picked for him to wear out and frowns seeing a pair of shorts and a well-worn t-shirt, one that she always steals from him to sleep in.

“Amour, are we not going out?”

“No!” Her voice is a little louder as she shuts the washing machine. “I have a plan for today.”

He hums, looking back at their dresser, considering getting some underwear, but those shorts were comfortable enough and she never forgot to give him underwear when picking out his clothes.

“You look comfy.” She says, leaning against the bedroom door frame, startling him.

“I feel comfy.” He then pulls at the waistband of his shorts, hand rucking up his shirt. “Is there a reason, I’m, uh free balling?” He laughs.

She shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe.”

“Hmm. A surprise for later?”

“Yes.” She then reaches a hand out and he immediately moves to grasp it. “Now, come on, you are going to sit on the sofa while I prepare us lunch.”

“You don’t want me to help?”

She squeezes his hand, pressing closer to give him a soft, slow kiss. “I just want you to relax.”

He stares at her, his love for her somehow growing as she attempts to take care of him, and he nods. He always struggled to not let her do as she pleased and wanted, and he wouldn’t stop her from trying to take care of him, not like this at least. “Okay. You will tell me if you need help?”

She rolls her eyes, but nods. “I will tell you if I need help.”

Sitting at the couch, he knows she expects him to put something on tv, a movie, a tv show, something, but he can’t take his eyes off her, not when he has a clear view of her in the kitchen, a clear view of her after over a week away from being able to see her like this.

He watches as she cleans some fruit before chopping, thinly slicing some bread after rinsing the knife and then she glances at him, a considering look on her face before it softens into a smile, and she’s slicing some cheese as well, his favorite, it’s all his favorites he realizes. All the fruit is the ones he likes most, the bread is from his favorite bakery, the cheese is the one he loves while she only likes it, and he watches as she takes care to put a few slices of his favorite lunch meat as well on the platter.

As she sets it on the coffee table that he just now notices is pulled closer to the couch, he can’t help the words that slip from his lips. “Mon amour, je ne te mérite pas. Éternellement reconnaissant d’être celui que tu choisis.” My love, I don’t deserve you. Forever grateful that I’m the one you choose.

Her hands immediately cover her face at his words and he’s quick to pull them away, needing to see her wide eyes and shy smile.

“Arthur,” her voice is soft and he pulls her down onto the couch, pulling her close.

“Merci.”

She presses into him. “Merci de m’avoir choisi. Sans vous, mon cœur ne peut pas battre.” Thank you for choosing me. Without you my heart is unable to beat.

He flushes, pressing their lips together as he swallows roughly, his fingers itching for the ring box hidden in Lorenzo’s apartment.

When they pull away, he has to clear his throat, lips brushing against hers one last time before he starts to reach for some fruit and she’s lightly slapping his hand.

“Find something to watch.” She says and he watches with a slight pout as she adjusts, knee slightly digging into his thigh as she grabs some bread and puts a slice of cheese and lunch meat for it and it’s only now he notices that the meat has already been cut to perfectly fit the small size of the bread.

He’s about to complain about her not allowing him to grab food when she’s holding it up for him to eat. His brain blanks as he leans a bit forward, easily taking the bite sized sandwich from her fingers.

She’s fed him food before, but it was always playful or just sharing a spoon or fork. It was never with fondness and love seeming to radiate off her, his lips brushing against her fingertips, and her watching as if to make sure that he likes the food despite it all being his favorites. It makes him worry if this continues he won’t make it to their anniversary to propose. Doesn’t know if his heart can take the few weeks of waiting.

He ends up throwing on a crime show, not something he normally watches, but she had shown him one episode and he had gotten hooked. They were slowly making their way through it and he was pleased to see that they were nearing the end of season two considering they only started watching a month ago.

She continues to feed him, never letting him reach for any of the food, and he hums every time she feeds him a piece of fruit and then presses their lips together in a short and slightly sticky kiss.

He almost feels drunk, his thoughts slow, body warm and completely relaxed against the couch. It’s her he knows that is making him feel this way, not the shared glass of wine she’s been pressing to his lips every time he tugs lightly at the hem of her dress that he doesn’t mean to make creep higher up her thighs with every tug, but he isn’t upset at it either.

By the time they finish the episode, the platter is empty and their wine glass is as well. She gives him a languid kiss, his hand squeezing her thigh at the way her tongue traces his lips before pulling away and standing up. He pouts as she leaves his side and her dress covers her upper thighs fully again.

She laughs, leaning down and kissing him again. “I’ll be back, I’m just going to put this in the sink and refill our glass.”

“Be quick?” He murmurs, squeezing her hand.

“As quick as can be.”

Arthur watches as she goes to the kitchen, she only leaves his side for a minute, but it’s far too long at the moment and he tells her so, enjoying the way she laughs, head fully tilting back.

When she comes back, he’s surprised when she stops in front of the couch and hands him the glass of wine.

“I finally get to do something?”

Her eyes immediately roll at the tease and then she’s straddling him and he can’t put the wine glass down quick enough, hands instantly moving to her thighs.

“Hello.” He breathes, head resting against the back of the couch to get a better look at her.

She grins at him, “Hi.” She bends a little, giving him a teasing kiss. “You have something I want.”

“Do I?”

“Uh huh.”

And his hips are jolting upwards as he feels her hand pressing through the slit in his shorts and grabbing his cock.

“Merde.” He groans, arousal beginning to stir. “You want my cock? That’s why you gave me no underwear?”

She laughs, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get too excited.” And then she strokes him, as best as she can with her hand inside his shorts, but it’s enough to make him half hard.

“And why’s that?”

“If we have sex right now, you’ll fall asleep after and then pout when you sleep past dinner and have to wait one more day to fix your sleep schedule.”

He scowls at how well she knows him and one of his hand moves, gripping her wrist before she can do anything else to him. “So you are just teasing me?”

“No.” And he’s pleased though confused to watch as she becomes slightly shy. “I missed you. We usually are never apart that long.” She takes a long, shaky breath. “And I thought it’d be nice to sit on the couch as I cock warm you.”

His breath hitches and it’s odd to feel the arousal that had been growing calm at her words, at the want to just be close to him. “Oh, amour, we can of course do that. I like being close to you as well.”

She smiles at him and his other hand is leaving her thigh to rest upon her cheek, grinning at the warmth radiating from the skin.

“Do you actually want to sit or lay down?” He asks.

Her eyebrows press together, “I don’t know. I just want to feel you in me and wrapped around me.”

His heart skips a beat at her answer, at the softness in her voice. “How about we start with you in my lap and then we’ll readjust to us laying down?”

“Okay.”

Arthur lets go of her wrist and he expects her to immediately move her hand, letting him pull his cock out, but she’s doing it. Letting out a small hum when his length is fully out and he gives a small huff, already knowing what she’s thinking.

He helps her turn around in his lap, grabbing the hem of her dress and pulling it up a bit so she doesn’t sit on it and then he nearly curses, about to tap her hip and remind her to take off her underwear when he feels her completely bare pressed against him.

A curse leaves him at the context, the slight wetness now on his dick.

“You’ve been like this the whole time?” His voice is slightly strangled and she laughs.

“Yes.” And then her hand is wrapping around him.

He’s thankful he’s still half hard, the slight stiffness making it easier for her to press him inside and his fingers are curling around her hips as he slips in fully, a choked moan leaving them both.

They’ve done this plenty, but it’s always weird for the both of them to not start grinding and thrusting, self-control just barely restraining them for the first few minutes before finally their bodies seem to catch up with their minds.

It’s easy to lean back against the couch, with her on his lap, back completely against his chest. His arms wrapped around her and hers resting on top of his. It’s perfect and it hits Arthur again that she’s taking care of him, that yes she of course missed him and wanted to be close to him, but she somehow knew that this is what he needed. He needed this and she just knew that, knew him. And Lorenzo is going to hate him, but he already knows that as soon as he wakes up tomorrow he’ll be going over to his brother’s apartment to retrieve the ring he bought.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

hey guys wouldn’t it be funny if the suckening characters had tumblr

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

omw to burger king gonna get the no whopper whopper who wants anything

🕷 gabrielmontezfuckingrocks

FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCKV YKU FUCKG HUOU

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

suck my entire dick and balls

👑 shilo-bathory

Hello It’s Me Shilo Bathory Son ofthe Wueen hello 👋 what’s Is That There Is A Hand oon the Light Box Whose Hand Is that There Is A Tiny Man Inside The Lightbocx

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

you pressed the emoji button after typing hello see here i can do it too hello 👋

👑 shilo-bathory

Who Are Yoy Is This your Hand In The Light Box

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

why are you typing like a homestuck character

👑 shilo-bathory

Wghat is Home Suck

🦇 iamthevoid

The darkness is my only friend… my one constant companion in these long decades of breathless life…

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

edgelord alert

🦇 iamthevoid

Boy you have no idea what horrors I have seen. I have witnessed wars and massacres the likes of which would give you nightmares. You have seen nothing yet.

#darkness #my twisted mind #lonely #depression #no one understands #despair

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

@/iamthevoid stop typing like that youre clogging up my dashboard

🦇 iamthevoid

It’s what best suits my dark and twisted soul… if I even have one.

😈 phantom-flipper-official

who tf got peepaw a tumblr account

👑 shilo-bathory

Hello Emizel It Is me Shilo I Helped Arthur create a “tumblr blog” like You Did For Me ☺️ I Know How To Make The Smiley Faces now

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

👑 shilo-bathory

Emizel Hwo Is This Man inthe Lightt Box. Who is That

🦇 iamthevoid

Prince, I believe that is Keanu Reeves.

🗡 fromthetoprope

@/shilo-bathory Actually My Prince, that is Ben Affleck! He is an “actor.” I learned about him while watching the large light box!

👑 shilo-bathroy

grefgor

🥤 the-soda-man ✅✅

hey guys, i’m shutting this blog down. my soda addiction was getting really really bad, and i think it’s best i don’t post about vintage sodas anymore. i’m rebranding to the nalgene man

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

CONGRATS ON THE TRANSITION 🥳

🥤the-nalgene-man ✅✅

THANKS BRO YOURE MY NUMBER ONE ‼️‼️

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

the no whopper whopper is not worth the twenty five dollars

🕷 gabrielmontezfuckingrocks

YOU SUCK SO BAD

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

DUDE GET OFF MY DICK

🕷 gabrielmontezfuckingrocks

I’LL GET OFF YOUR DICK WHEN YOU GET OFF MINE

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

GUESS WERE GETTING OFF EACH OTHERS DICKS THEN

🦇 iamthevoid

I’m reporting this post for sexual content.

🕷 gabrielmontezfuckingrocks

WHATS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM YOU WANNA GET OFF MY DICK TOO

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

YOU CANT GET OFF HIS DICK YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE GETTING OFF MY DICK

🦇 iamthevoid

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

WHO SHIWED YOU HOW TO USE REACTION INAGES?????>?>?

👑 shilo-bathory

Emizel We Are Learning ☺️ Grefgor Knows All

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

whoever showed arthur homophobic dog im going to strangle you he wont stop saying “i know what you are” and “dont tell me youre one of them” whenever i do anything i was washing the blood out of my clothes at 2 in the morning and he passed by the bathroom and said “i dont think thats normal” im going to fucking rip his throat out

🦇 iamthevoid

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOR

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

WHY IS THIS GETTING NOTES

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

you guys HAVE to stop asking me about arthur hes not my fucking dad i was an orphan your assumptions are offensive im not related to him i called him peepaw AS A JOKE

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

i AM related to the other guy but thats not relevant

🦇 iamthevoid

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

WHO GAVE YUO MORE IMAGES

👑 shilo-bathory

His Arsenal Is Expanding ☺️

🦇 iamthevoid

What is a Tumblrina and why are the people in my inbox calling me one?

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

im gonna fucking kill myself

👑 shilo-bathory

Okay 🥳 See You when youu Come Back 😊🥰

😈 phantom-flipper-official ✅✅

[clarkeyzzz]

hey bae I actually adore your writing!! Could you do something fluffy with Arthur tv and fem!reader where she’s rambling to him about like Greek mythology or smth random whilst sat in his lap and he’s just playing with her hair and listening? And she stops bcs she’s usually quiet and she feels bad for rambling but he reassures her bcs he’s genuinely so interested in everything she’s saying? Or something like that obviously adjust it to your preferences! Thank uu :)

Whispers of Olympus

arthur frederick x fem!reader

summary: during a rambling about greek mythology you and arthur reach a profound, mutual realization.

warnings: greek mythology, mythological violence, emotional intensity

note: i absolutely loved writing this!!! i got a bit carried away but writing this caused my inner percy jackson kid to come out as someone who’s obsessed with greek mythology. once i started writing i couldn’t stop I spent 6 hours straight just putting all my ideas on paper! this filled me with so much joy you have no idea. i did put my own little spin on the ending. hope this is what you were looking for!

4.6k words

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

In the soothing cocoon of your shared living room, with the soft hum of the city outside and the dim light from the television casting flickering shadows around, you found yourself in a familiar, cherished position: nestled comfortably in Arthur's lap, your back against his chest as you recounted tales of Greek mythology with animated enthusiasm. Your hands moved expressively, painting pictures of epic battles and divine machinations as you delved into the ancient stories that captivated you so deeply.

Arthur's fingers gently combed through your soft hair as you nestled comfortably in his lap, your eyes alight with enthusiasm. The warm afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden glow over them both as you regaled him with tales of gods and heroes.

"...and then Theseus sailed to Crete to face the Minotaur," you continued, gesticulating animatedly. "Can you imagine how terrifying that must have been? A massive labyrinth filled with deadly traps, and at the center, a monstrous bull-man waiting to devour you!"

Arthur smiled softly, completely enraptured by your passion. He loved the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke of mythology, how your voice took on a lilting, storyteller's cadence. Though typically reserved, in moments like these you fully blossomed, painting vivid pictures with your words.

"But Ariadne gave him a ball of thread to find his way back out," you went on. "It's called Ariadne's thread, and it's become a metaphor for solving problems with logic. Isn't that fascinating? How these ancient stories still resonate today and shape our language and thinking?"

Arthur nodded, his fingers still gently combing through your hair. "It is fascinating," he agreed softly. "Tell me more about Ariadne. What happened to her after she helped Theseus?"

You shifted slightly in his lap, her eyes lighting up even more at his question. "Oh, that's where it gets really interesting! You see, after Theseus defeated the Minotaur, he took Ariadne with him when he left Crete. But then..." Paused dramatically, your hand resting on Arthur's chest. "He abandoned her on the island of Naxos while she slept!"

Arthur's brow furrowed. "That seems rather ungrateful of him," he murmured, his hand moving to trace gentle patterns on your back.

"It was!" you exclaimed. "But here's where it gets better. The god Dionysus found her there, fell in love with her, and made her his immortal wife. He even placed her crown in the sky as the constellation Corona Borealis."

As you spoke, Arthur found himself imagining the scene, picturing the lonely goddess on that distant shore, her heartbreak transforming into divine love. He gazed down at the woman in his arms, marveling at how she brought these ancient tales to life with such vivid detail.

"It's a bittersweet story," he mused, "but I suppose it worked out for Ariadne in the end."

You nodded eagerly. "Exactly! And there are so many interpretations of what it all means. Some say it represents the transition from maiden to wife, or the union of mortal and divine. Others see it as a cautionary tale about trusting strangers."

As you continued to expound on the various scholarly debates surrounding the myth, Arthur found himself captivated not just by the story, but by the infectious enthusiasm. Your cheeks were flushed with excitement, hands gesticulating wildly as you spoke. He loved how you could lose herself so completely in these tales, how the usual shyness melted away when you got caught in a passionate rambling.

"Oh! And did you know that the Minotaur itself is a fascinating symbol?" you asked, barely pausing for breath. "Some interpret it as representing the bestial nature within humanity, or the struggle between civilization and our primal instincts."

Arthur listened intently, his fingers still absently stroking you hair. He loved how your mind worked, connecting disparate ideas and finding meaning in the smallest details. As you spoke, he found himself drawn into her world of myth and symbolism.

"That's fascinating," he murmured. "It reminds me a bit of the story of Cronus. Do you know that one?"

Your eyes lit up even brighter. "Oh yes! Cronus, the Titan who devoured his own children. That's another myth with so many layers of meaning."

You shifted in his lap, turning to face him more fully, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "Cronus ate his children because he feared they would overthrow him, just as he had overthrown his own father, Uranus. It's a story about the cyclical nature of time and power, and the fear of being replaced. But Rhea, his wife, she was cunning. She managed to trick him by wrapping a stone in swaddling clothes instead of baby Zeus," you explained, your voice lively with the thrill of storytelling.

Arthur nodded, his hand moving to cup your cheek gently. "And in the end, his fear became a self-fulfilling prophecy, didn't it? Because Zeus, the child he failed to eat, was the one who ultimately dethroned him."

"Exactly!" you exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement. "It's a perfect example of how these myths often contain deep psychological truths. Cronus's attempt to cling to power ultimately led to his downfall."

Pausing for a moment, your brow furrowing in thought. "You know, there's an interesting parallel between the Cronus myth and the story of Oedipus. Both involve prophecies of sons overthrowing their fathers, and both show how attempts to avoid fate often lead directly to it."

"Oh! And speaking of Zeus, there was this time when he transformed into a swan to seduce Leda... it’s such a bizarre yet fascinating tale, showing just how far the gods would go for love—or lust," you chuckled, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

Arthur's chuckle rumbled in his chest, a warm sound that vibrated against your back. "The gods really didn’t have any limits, did they?" he mused, his intrigue palpable in his tone.

You nodded, pleased with his interest, and continued, "Not at all. Their stories are filled with such raw emotions and dramatic plots. Like the story of Persephone and Hades, this tale is one of my absolute favourites!" you exclaimed, your eyes lighting up with renewed excitement. "It's a story of love, loss, and the changing of seasons."

Arthur's hand continued its gentle ministrations in your hair, his fingers weaving through the strands as he listened intently. "Tell me about it," he encouraged softly, his eyes never leaving your animated face.

You shifted slightly in his lap once again, getting comfortable as you prepared to dive into the story. "Well, Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, the goddess of harvest and fertility. She was a beautiful young goddess, and Hades, the god of the underworld, fell deeply in love with her."

As you spoke, Arthur's free hand began tracing more lazy patterns on your back, his touch soothing and warm. You leaned into him, drawing comfort from his presence as you continued your tale.

"Hades was so smitten that he decided to abduct Persephone and take her to the underworld. He burst through the earth in his chariot, snatched her up, and disappeared back into the depths before anyone could stop him."

Arthur's brow furrowed slightly at the mention of abduction. "That seems rather drastic," he murmured, his hand stilling momentarily in your hair.

You nodded emphatically. "Oh, it was! Demeter was absolutely distraught when she discovered her daughter was missing. She searched the earth for nine days and nights, neglecting her duties as the goddess of harvest. As a result, the earth began to wither and die."

Your hands moved expressively as you spoke, painting pictures in the air. "Can you imagine the desperation she must have felt? A mother searching endlessly for her child, while the world around her fell into ruin?"

Arthur's expression softened, his fingers resuming its movements now running gentle caress through your hair. "It must have been heartbreaking for her," he said softly.

"It was," you agreed, your voice taking on a more somber tone. "Eventually, Zeus had to intervene. He commanded Hades to return Persephone to the world above."

You paused dramatically, your eyes meeting Arthur's. "But there was a catch. You see, Persephone had eaten six pomegranate seeds while in the underworld.

"And eating food from the underworld meant she was bound to return there," Arthur guessed, his voice soft with understanding.

You nodded enthusiastically, your eyes bright. "Exactly! For each seed she ate, she had to spend one month of the year in the underworld. So, for six months, she stays with Hades, and for six months, she returns to the world above with her mother."

As you spoke, you realized how long you had been talking, how many stories you had shared. A flush crept up your cheeks, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. "Oh," you said, your voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm sorry, I've been rambling on for so long. I didn't mean to bore you with all these old stories."

You started to pull away, but Arthur's arms tightened around you, holding you close. "Don't apologize," he said, his voice warm and sincere. "I love hearing you talk about these myths. The way you tell them, they come alive. It's like I can see the gods and heroes right in front of me."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You're not just saying that?"

Arthur shook his head, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I'm not just saying that," he assured you, his voice gentle but firm. "Your passion for these stories is... captivating. The way your eyes light up, how animated you become - it's beautiful to watch."

His words sent a warm flutter through your chest, and you felt your blush deepen. Arthur's hand moved from your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

"Tell me," he said, his blue eyes gazing intently into yours, "what drew you to Greek mythology in the first place? What is it about these ancient tales that speaks to you so deeply?"

You hesitated for a moment, surprised by the question. It wasn't often that someone asked about the root of your passion, and you found yourself searching for the right words.

"I think... it's the humanity of it all," you began slowly, your voice growing stronger as you continued. "These gods and heroes, they're so powerful, so larger than life. And yet, they struggle with the same emotions we do - love, jealousy, pride, fear. Their stories are our stories, just painted on a grander canvas."

Your words hung in the air for a moment, and you watched as Arthur's eyes softened with understanding. He nodded slowly, his hand still gently cupping your cheek.

"That's beautiful," he murmured. "I never thought of it that way before, but you're right. These stories have endured for thousands of years because they speak to something universal in the human experience."

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth at his understanding. "Yeah," you said softly. "And there's something magical about how these stories have been passed down through generations, evolving and taking on new meanings as they go. It's like we're part of this grand, unending conversation across time."

As you spoke, you noticed the golden afternoon light had shifted, casting long shadows across the room. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink visible through the window. It reminded you of the story of Apollo driving his sun chariot across the sky.

"You know," you began, a playful glint in your eye, "the ancient Greeks believed the sunset was caused by Apollo reaching the western edge of the world with his chariot. As he descended into the underworld to make his nightly journey back to the east, the sky would blaze with colour."

Arthur's gaze shifted to the window, taking in the spectacular sunset. "It's a beautiful explanation for such a stunning sight," he mused, his arms tightening slightly around you.

You nodded, snuggling closer into his embrace. "They had stories for everything - the changing seasons, the constellations in the night sky, the ebb and flow of the tides. It's like they wove magic into the very fabric of the world around them."

As you spoke, Arthur's eyes drifted back to your face, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You weave magic too, you know," he said softly. "The way you bring these stories to life, it's like you're casting a spell."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. "I just love sharing them," you murmured, suddenly feeling shy under the intensity of his gaze.

"And I love listening," Arthur replied, his voice low and tender. His hand moved from your cheek to gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, there's a story I'd like to tell you now, if you'll let me."

Curiosity piqued, you nodded eagerly. "Of course," you said, settling more comfortably in his lap.

Arthur took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "Once upon a time," he began, his voice taking on a storyteller's cadence that mirrored your own, "there was a man who thought he understood the world, he thought he knew everything there was to know. He had traveled far and wide, studied ancient texts, and prided himself on his knowledge, never realizing there was magic all around him."

His fingers traced delicate patterns on your skin as he spoke, sending a shiver down your spine. "But one day, he met a woman who showed him that there was still so much wonder left to discover. A woman who saw the world differently. She had eyes that sparkled with ancient wisdom and a voice that could bring long-forgotten tales to life."

You felt your breath catch in your throat, recognizing yourself in his words. Arthur's gaze was intense, filled with an emotion you couldn't quite name.

"This woman," he continued, his voice soft and reverent, "she opened his eyes to a world of wonder he had never known existed. She spoke of gods and heroes, of love and betrayal, of triumph and tragedy. And as she spoke, the world around them seemed to shimmer with possibility."

The setting sun cast a warm glow across Arthur's face, turning his eyes to liquid gold. "With every story she told, every myth she unravelled, the man fell deeper under her spell. He found himself looking forward to their moments together, eager to hear what new tale she would weave. And as the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, he realized that the magic he sought wasn't just in her stories - it was in her."

Arthur's voice grew softer, more intimate, as he continued. "He saw how her eyes lit up when she spoke of Aphrodite's beauty, how her hands danced through the air as she described Hermes' swift flight. He noticed the way she bit her lip when she was deep in thought, trying to remember some obscure detail of a lesser-known myth."

You felt your heart quicken as Arthur spoke, his words painting a picture that was achingly familiar. His hand moved to cup your cheek once more, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin.

"And then one day," he murmured, "as the sun was setting just like this, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, he realized something. He realized that all the epic love stories she had told him - Eros and Psyche, Orpheus and Eurydice, even Zeus and his many conquests - paled in comparison to how he felt about her. The way his heart raced when she smiled, how his skin tingled at her touch, the warmth that bloomed in his chest when she laughed - it was a magic more powerful than any myth or legend."

Arthur's voice grew tender, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "He realized that she had become his Ariadne's thread, guiding him through the labyrinth of life. She was his Persephone, bringing light and life to his world. She was his muse, inspiring him to see beauty and wonder in every moment."

As he spoke, the last rays of sunlight painted the room in a soft, golden glow. The light caught in your hair, creating a halo effect that took Arthur's breath away. He paused for a moment, drinking in the sight of you.

"And so," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper, "the man decided to write his own myth. A story of two souls finding each other, of hearts beating in sync, of love as timeless as the tales of old."

Your breath caught in your throat as Arthur leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours."In this story," he murmured, "the man realizes that the greatest adventure, the most magical journey, is the one he's embarking on with her."

Your heart raced as Arthur's words washed over you, each syllable resonating deep within your soul. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment, bathed in the dying light of day.

"He sees that every day with her is like turning a new page in an epic tale," Arthur continued, his voice low and tender. "Each shared laugh, each quiet moment, each passionate debate about the meaning behind an ancient myth - it all weaves together to create a tapestry more beautiful than any he's ever seen."

His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently in your hair. "And as he looks into her eyes, he sees galaxies of stories yet untold, constellations of dreams waiting to be explored together."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the emotion in Arthur's voice, in his gaze. Your hands moved to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms.

"He realizes," Arthur whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "that he's fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with her. Not just with her stories or her passion, but with every facet of her being."

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure Arthur must hear it. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you, the last golden rays of sunlight wrapping around you like a cocoon.

"In this moment," Arthur continued, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, "he wants nothing more than to be a part of her story. To write chapters with her, to face whatever challenges may come, to celebrate every triumph and weather every storm by her side."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in Arthur's words, in his eyes. He caught the tear with his thumb, his touch impossibly gentle.

"And so," he murmured, "he decides to take a leap of faith, just like the heroes in her tales. To be brave, to open his heart, and to tell her how he feels."

Your heart pounded in your chest, Arthur's words echoing in your mind. The room seemed to hold its breath, time suspended in this magical moment between you.

"And what did the woman say?" you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

Arthur's eyes sparkled, a tender smile playing on his lips. "Well," he murmured, "that's where our story diverges from the ancient myths. Because in this tale, the ending hasn't been written yet." His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. "You tell me. What does the woman say?"

For a moment, you were speechless, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion swirling within you. The setting sun painted the room in hues of gold and rose, casting a warm glow over Arthur's face. In that light, you could see every fleck of colour in his eyes, every line etched by laughter and contemplation.

Your mind raced through all the myths and legends you had shared with him over the months. You thought of Orpheus braving the underworld for Eurydice, of Psyche completing impossible tasks to be reunited with Eros, of Odysseus journeying for years to return to his beloved Penelope. All these tales of love and devotion swirled in your mind, but none seemed to capture the depth of what you felt at this moment.

You took a deep breath, your hands moving to cup Arthur's face. The warmth of his skin under your palms grounded you and gave you courage.

"In this story," you began, your voice soft but steady, "the woman realizes that she's been weaving her own tale all along, without even knowing it. Every myth she's shared, every legend she's brought to life, has been leading her to this moment."

Your hands moved to cup Arthur's face, mirroring his gentle touch. "She sees that the magic she's always sought in ancient stories has been right here all along, in the way he listens, in the warmth of his embrace, in the depth of his understanding."

"She realizes," you continued, your thumbs gently caressing his cheek “that she's been falling in love too, with every shared moment, every exchanged glance, every passionate discussion. She sees that this man has become her Hades, not in darkness but in depth - in the profound way he sees her, understands her, cherishes her."

Arthur's eyes widened, a spark of hope igniting in their depths. His hands moved to your waist, holding you closer as if afraid you might disappear.

"She realizes," you continued once more, your voice growing stronger with each word, "that their story is one for the ages. Not because of grand quests or divine interventions, but because of the quiet magic they create together. The way he makes her laugh, the comfort she finds in his arms, the spark that ignites when their minds connect over shared passions."

Your fingers traced the contours of Arthur's face, memorizing every line and plane. "She sees their future unfolding like a tapestry, woven with threads of shared adventures and quiet moments. Mornings spent discussing philosophy over coffee, evenings curled up reading to each other, weekends exploring ancient ruins and bringing history to life."

Arthur's breath hitched, his hands tightening slightly at your waist. The room around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment,

"In this moment," you whispered, your forehead resting against his, "she realizes that all the love stories she's ever told pale in comparison to the one she's living. That the greatest myth, the most powerful magic, is the connection between two hearts beating in sync."

Your eyes locked with Arthur's, and in that moment, it felt as if the very fabric of reality shifted around you. The room seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly light, reminiscent of the golden glow that surrounded the gods in ancient tales. You could almost hear the whisper of the Fates, weaving this moment into the tapestry of your lives.

"She knows," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, "that this is her odyssey, her great adventure. Not across wine-dark seas or through monster-filled islands, but through the landscape of the heart. A journey more perilous and more rewarding than any faced by the heroes of old."

As you spoke, the last rays of the setting sun painted the room in a kaleidoscope of colours. The warm light caught in Arthur's hair, creating a halo effect that reminded you of the radiance of Apollo. His eyes, fixed on yours, seemed to hold entire galaxies within their depths.

"She understands now," you continued, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, "that every story she's ever told has been preparing her for this moment. Every tale of love and loss, of triumph and tragedy, has been teaching her how to open her heart, how to be brave in the face of uncertainty, how to recognize true love when it stands before her."

Your hands moved to rest on Arthur's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. It was a rhythm that seemed to echo through your own body, as if your very souls were in sync.

"And so," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion, "she says yes. Yes to this adventure, yes to writing their own epic tale together, yes to a love that rivals any myth."

Arthur's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, a smile of pure joy spreading across his face. The room around you seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, as if the very air was alive with the magic of this moment.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice filled with wonder and reverence. "Yes to all of it?."

As if moved by an invisible force, you both leaned in closer, your noses brushing. The air between you crackled with electricity, reminiscent of Zeus's thunderbolts. Your heart raced, pounding a rhythm as old as time itself.

"Arthur," you murmured, your fingers tangling in his hair, "I love you. Not just as Penelope loved Odysseus or as Psyche loved Eros, but in a way that's uniquely ours. A love that's both ancient and new, timeless and immediate."

His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. "And I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with a reverence that made your heart soar. "With every fiber of my being, with every beat of my heart, I love you."

As you gazed into each other's eyes, the air between you crackled with anticipation, electric and alive. A silent conversation passing between you in that infinite moment. Then, as if drawn by an irresistible force, you both leaned in.

Your lips met in a kiss that sent shockwaves through your entire being. It was soft at first, a gentle press, like the first brush of sunlight at dawn. But then it deepened, becoming something more profound, more passionate. Arthur's hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, while your fingers tangled in his hair.

The kiss was everything you had ever dreamed of and more. It was Aphrodite's blessing and Eros's arrow, a divine union of souls. You tasted the sweetness of ambrosia on his lips, felt the strength of Hercules in his embrace. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only this moment, this connection.

As you kissed, you could almost hear the Muses singing, their celestial voices weaving a melody of love and destiny. The room filled with a golden light, reminiscent of the radiance of Mount Olympus itself. It was as if the gods themselves were blessing your union, creating a private universe just for the two of you.

In that moment, you understood how Zeus must have felt when he first laid eyes on Hera, how Hades was so captivated by Persephone that he reshaped the very laws of nature to be with her.

In that moment it felt like you understood everything.

[tenessee-walker]

hiii, i’ve been stalking(in a not weird way lol) your account for a week, i love the way you write!

could you please do a hc where arthur praises and is gentle with reader? they can be in a relationship or not yet, i don’t mind:) let your imagination wild, i think it would heal me a bit hahaha

thank u<3 (i’ve never done a request this is exciting lol)

IM BEING STALKED (I’ll add you to my other 7 stalkers)

also gentle with what like 👍 I don’t know so I went with the vibe WAITTTT

I added a bonus on this one coz the stalker thing gave me an idea (stalker!arthur)

gentle!arthur who holds you like you’re something real precious, like you might slip right through his fingers if he isn’t careful.

gentle!arthur who tucks loose strands of hair behind your ear with such a soft touch, his calloused fingers brushing against your cheek like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

gentle!arthur who never lets you walk on the rougher paths alone—his hand is always at the small of your back, guiding you, steadying you, making sure you don’t trip. “watch your step, sweetheart.”

gentle!arthur who, when you’re real tired, coaxes you to rest against him, murmuring in that deep, gravelly voice of his, “c’mere, darlin’. just close your eyes for a bit.” and when you do? he just stays there, one hand tracing soft circles on your back.

gentle!arthur who kisses you like he’s got all the time in the world, slow and lingering, his lips moving against yours like a whispered promise—like he ain’t ever gonna stop loving you.

gentle!arthur who adores holding your hand. he’ll lace his fingers with yours absentmindedly, rubs his thumb over your knuckles when you’re nervous, lifts your hand to press soft kisses to your palm just ‘cause he feels like it.

gentle!arthur who pulls you into his lap whenever you’re upset, letting you bury your face in his chest as he holds you close, whispering real low, “it’s alright, sweetheart. i got you. ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

gentle!arthur who never rushes you—whether it’s a kiss, a touch, or just a moment of quiet between you both. he moves at your pace, patient and loving, making sure you always feel safe with him.

gentle!arthur who writes you little notes in his journal, messy scribbles about how beautiful you looked that morning, how he can’t stop thinkin’ about you, how he hopes you know how much he loves you. (and if you ever find them? he’ll turn all red and mumble, “ah, hell. don’t go readin’ that, now.”)

gentle!arthur who, no matter how rough the world is, no matter how many fights he gets into or how much blood stains his hands, never lets that hardness touch you. with you? he’s soft. always.

gentle!arthur who holds you real close at night, his arms wrapped around you, breath warm against your neck as he mumbles sleepily, “love you, darlin’… more than you’ll ever know.”

my devious bonus coz I felt like it

stalker!arthur who first sees you in town, stepping out of some grand building, all done up in fine clothes, looking like you belong to another world entirely.

stalker!arthur who knows he ain’t got no business lookin’ at you the way he does, but he can’t help it. you move so different from the folk he’s used to—so graceful, so untouchable. and yet, he wants to touch.

stalker!arthur who follows you through the streets, keeping his distance, his hat pulled low, watching the way people step aside for you, tip their hats, treat you with the kind of respect he’s never known. do they even deserve to be near you?he sure as hell knows they don’t.

stalker!arthur who learns your routines without meaning to—when you visit the tailor, when you stop by the florist, when you take your afternoon walks through the park, lost in thought. (he likes those moments best. likes wonderin’ what you’re thinkin’ about.)

stalker!arthur who finds himself outside your house at night, standing in the shadows, watching the glow of the oil lamps in your windows, wondering what it’d be like to be inside, to have you look at him the way you look at those rich boys who court you.

stalker!arthur who gets angry when he sees some well-dressed fool put his hand on your waist, lean in close, whisper something in your ear that makes you laugh. (what the hell does he have that arthur don’t?)

stalker!arthur who steals things—a handkerchief left behind on a bench, a ribbon that slipped from your hair, a half-burnt letter you tossed away. little pieces of you that he keeps tucked away in his satchel, running his fingers over them when he can’t sleep.

stalker!arthur who fantasizes about taking you away from all of it—pullin’ you onto his horse, riding off somewhere real quiet, where it’s just you and him. no more suitors, no more society, no more rules keepin’ you apart.

stalker!arthur who gets bolder, brushing past you in the street just to hear you gasp, just to see the way you glance over your shoulder, confused. good. you should feel him there. you should know someone’s watchin’.

stalker!arthur who finally speaks to you one evening when you’re alone, stepping out of the shadows, tipping his hat with that lazy drawl of his. “evenin’, miss.” like he ain’t been followin’ you for weeks, like he ain’t been dreamin’ of this moment.

stalker!arthur who smiles when you hesitate, when something in your gut tells you to be wary—but you don’t run. you should. but it’s already too late. he’s decided he ain’t lettin’ you go.

AM I EVIL 😈

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 (You’re here), PART 18

In Gaius Tower.

Merlin: (enters)

Gaius: Oh, Merlin, glad you're here.

Merlin: Sorry I was moving all my things to my new chambers. Do you need me to help you with something?

Gaius: (sighs, turning very serious) Merlin, my boy, we must talk.

Merlin: But I didn't do anything this time 🥺.

Gaius: No, it's not about you. Well, yes. But it's not because of something you've done... I think.

Merlin: (very confused) I don't think I follow...

Gaius: You are aware that the prince is... very fond of you, right?

Merlin: Oh yeah, sure.

Gaius: I mean he likes you, Merlin.

Merlin: I know, I like him too.

Gaius: (surprised) Really?! 😲

Merlin: Of course, we are friends. How can we not like each other?

Gaius: No, I don't mean in that way, Merlin.

Merlin: Well, I guess he likes me as his servant too.

Gaius: (explodes) Oh, for Gods' sake! I'm talking about romantic love! Of sexual attraction! That's what I'm talking about!

Merlin: …

Merlin: (burst out laughing) Ha! 🤣 Good one, Gaius.

Gaius: I'm not joking.

Merlin: (sarcastic) Yeah, sure.

Gaius: Merlin, Arthur has been obsessed with you ever since you got here.

Merlin: What on earth gave you that idea?

Gaius: He almost lost his mind when you were stabbed!

Merlin: So? He cares about his subjects. That's not strange.

Gaius: He had a man imprisoned for you.

Merlin: Lancelot, yes, and only because he wanted to teach me a lesson for risking my life 'unnecessarily' again. Very childish of him if you ask me.

Gaius: And when you invited a man to sleep in your room-

Merlin: Why does everyone say that like it's a bad thing?

Gaius: -He had you immediately move into the chambers next to his.

Merlin: He still doesn't trust Lancelot and he wanted me to be more comfortable, that's all.

Gaius: He gave you a flower! Tell me, how can that NOT be romantic?

Merlin: Oh, I suppose that could be misinterpreted. Even Lancelot interpreted it that way.

Gaius: Because it can only be interpreted one way!

Merlin: But I swear it has an explanation.

Gaius: I'm dying to hear it.

Merlin: You see, do you remember when Arthur came here to leave me a message for you when the plague happened?

Gaius: The message he never left you in the end because you were too busy talking about your favorite flower? Yes, I remember.

Merlin: I told him that my favorite flowers were forget-me-nots because it's not easy to find purple flowers and purple is my favorite color.

Gaius: A color that curiously only royalty can afford because it's very expensive to make, yes.

Merlin: Exactly! That's why I like forget-me-nots. They are easy to find in nature and they are free. And I told Arthur that: "There aren't many flowers that are purple."

Gaius: And in response he got you a purple lily.

Merlin: Yeah, you see?

Gaius: ...

Gaius: Are you supposed to be refuting me? Because it seems like you're agreeing with me.

Merlin: Gaius, don't you see? The idiot gave me the purple lily just to prove a point.

Gaius: Which is...?

Merlin: That there are other purple flowers besides forget-me-nots. He even wrote me a note telling me just that. That I simply didn't know how to search well.

Gaius: Merlin, do you know what the purple lily means in the language of flowers?

Merlin: "Passionate love." Why?

Gaius: 😒

Merlin: It's a coincidence, nothing more.

Gaius: Okay, let's talk about facts instead. Naturally purple lilies are very rare and difficult to find, to the point that even if someone from royalty wants some, it is more cost-effective for them to paint the lilies purple and, as you well know, purple dye is very expensive.

Merlin: (surprised) Really? I didn't know you could paint flowers. So my lily is painted?

Gaius: No, that's the thing. The prince, who we know has no shortage of money, despite being easily able to have a lily painted purple, decided to find you a naturally purple one and give it to you as a gift.

Merlin: (very impressed) Wow…

Gaius: Do you see it now?

Merlin: Yes… It's incredible that he would go so far just to prove a point.

Gaius: (drops his things) I give up. (leaves)

Time skip. In Arthur's chambers.

Arthur: (In his desk, writing in a parchment sheet, thinking) If Lancelot is here, the griffin will attack soon. (writes that down) What's next? The sidhes, I think. Then the black knight and the questing beast-No, the unicorn was before the questing beast. (Adds note next to 'Unicorn') Important: Don't kill the unicorn.... When was the battle of Ealdor? Was it before or after the unicorn? (thinks hard but can't remember) Well it happened around then. Hmmm... (adds note next to 'Black knight') Don't drink Gaius' drug.

Gaius: (knocks the door from outside)

Arthur: (hides the parchment) Come in.

Gaius: (enters and bows) Your highness.

Arthur: Oh, Gaius. What brings you here?

Gaius: I would like to talk to you... about Merlin.

Arthur: (stands up abruptly, worried) What happened? Is he hurt?

Gaius: No! It's nothing like that, sire.

Arthur: (sighs relieved) So? What is it?

Gaius: First, I want your highness to know that I really appreciate that you care for my ward so dearly. You didn't only give him the position of your personal manservant, you protected him and offer him your friendship even when there was no need and I will always be grateful for that.

Arthur: You don't have to thank me for that, Gaius. As you said, Merlin is very dear to me. I won't let anything happen to him. (thinking) What did that dollophead do this time?

Gaius: (uncomfortable) Right... however, despite my eternal gratitude, I must ask you... more discretion from your part, sire.

Arthur: (surprised and confused) Me?

Gaius: Some actions you have made regarding Merlin have caused... some worrying rumors to be made, sire.

Arthur: Like what?

Gaius: There are a lot, sire. But the most common one, I think, is that you took Merlin as your lover because Merlin is , pardon my words, a seductive greedy whore, sire.

Arthur: (scandalised, shouts) WHAT?!

Gaius: I know, very bold of them to accuse the prince of Camelot of sleeping with-

Arthur: They are calling Merlin a whore?!😡

Gaius: Uhm, yes, a greedy whore, but what I'm trying to get at is-

Arthur: This can't be. I'm going to fix it. Thank you, Gaius. (leaves)

Gaius: Wait! What are you going to do? 😨(goes after him, frantic) Sire? Sire!

Time skip. Arthur reunited with all the servants at his service (which means some servants like Gwen are not there) in the hallway.

Arthur: (with a branding iron in hand, threatening) This is used to mark the cattle but also to mark the gossipers. I do not tolerate gossipers, especially the slandares.

Servants: (scared as fuck, trembling in place)😨😱

Arthur: Rumors are forbidden in this castle. Even more if they involve royalty and those closest to them. I won't ask who did it. I don't care. I'm just warning you that if I hear anything remotely similar again (points the branding iron to them) all of you will pay the consequences. So if you don't want to be marked as cattle (walks and points the servants one by one) you better start controlling yours and everyone's tongues. Do I make myself clear?

Servant 1: (pales when he's pointed at and faints)

Arthur: (looks down as he falls, expressionless) You are fired. Let him know that when he wakes.

Other servants: (terrafied, with a high pitched voice) Yes, sire!🥺

Arthur: (leaves)

Gaius: (in a corner, just as terrafied) What the fu-😨

Time skip. Arthur and Merlin in Arthur's chambers.

Merlin: (putting Arthur his shirt on) Arthur, is there an important event today? Is someone important coming?

Arthur: No, why?

Merlin: Well, everyone seems in such a hurry lately. Every time I run into another servant they run away.

Arthur: Really?

Merlin: (nods, putting Arthur his jacket on) They always apologise though, before leaving. (thoughtful) It's weird. Maybe I did something to upset them?

Arthur: (dismissively) Sometimes there's just too much work in the castle. Don't overthink it.

Gaius: (enters suddenly, almost a wild expression in his face)

Merlin: (surprised) Gaius!

Arthur: (concerned) Gaius, is something wrong? You never enter without knocking.

Gaius: (turns to Merlin, very serious) Merlin, I need some errands urgently. (extends his hand with a peace of paper)

Merlin: Oh, in a minute. I need to-

Gaius: Now, Merlin. People's lifes are depending on it.

Arthur: Go, Merlin. I can handle the rest.

Merlin: (nods and takes the paper, very worried at the sudden emergency) I'll be back as soon as I can. (leaves quickly)

Gaius: (closes the door and turns to Arthur, sternly) This has to stop.

Arthur: (confused) What exactly?

Gaius: Your feelings for Merlin!

Arthur: Oh, that.

Gaius: Yes! I know you fancy him. Don't you dare deny it! 😡

Arthur: I'm not denying it.

Gaius: Please, Arthur! Everyone who has eyes can see-Wait you are not denying it? 😲

Arthur: I'm not.

Gaius: Oh... Okay

Arthur: And I don't just fancy him, I'm in love with him.

Gaius: (taken aback) I... didn't expect this much honesty... give me a minute.

Arthur: (nods in understanding and points to a chair) Do you want to take a seat?

Gaius: Yes, thank you. (takes a seat)

Arthur: I can bring you water if you like.

Gaius: No, it's fine. (sighs and looks at Arthur) How?

Arthur: (shrugs) How does everyone fall in love? It just happens.

Gaius: You've just known each other for less than a month.

Arthur: It's true, but I feel like I've known him for a lifetime. (thinking) 10 years to be exact. (says) I can assure you, Gaius, my intentions are nothing but honorable.

Gaius: I know you wouldn't force Merlin into anything he doesn't want to. That's not the problem.

Arthur: Then What is it?

Gaius: Sire-

Arthur: Arthur. Call me Arthur.

Gaius: The problem, Arthur, is that you are being too intense with your love. You even threatened those poor servants!

Arthur: They were insulting Merlin! 😠

Gaius: That's what I'm talking about! If you are not doing extensive searches just to bring him a flower, you are challenging anyone who has done the slightest offense to him. You were always very correct and careful with your image. Why can't you keep up appearances when it comes to Merlin too?

Arthur: Because I don't want to hide and repress what I feel! (thinks) Not anymore. (Says) And I'm not going to let anyone hurt him. (Thinks) Not again. I won't leave him alone again. I won't fail him again.

Gaius: I know you have the best intentions, but whether you like it or not, you are also harming Merlin with your actions. Your father doesn't have the best image of him at the moment.

Arthur: (worried) And Merlin? Does it bother him that-

Gaius: No, surprisingly, he isn't aware of your feelings yet. I even tried to tell him and he just thought I was joking. I don't know if he's very innocent or just too dense.

Arthur: (laughs, but then blushes a little and asks with a shy smile) But did he like the flower?

Gaius: Oh, for Gods' sake! Yes, he loved that flower and he loves everything you do for him. He may not be aware of your affections, but he's not exactly rejecting them. (Sighs) And that's what worries me the most.

Arthur: What?

Gaius: You are the prince and he is a servant and also a man.

Arthur: I don't care about that.

Gaius: But your father does and the entire court too. At some point you are going to have to marry a noble woman who can give you heirs. No matter how sincere your love for Merlin is, that is something you will not be able to change. You're going to break his heart even if you don't want to.

Arthur: I won't-

Gaius: Don't make me promises. You don't need my approval and whether I agree with this or not doesn't really matter. I'm only going to ask you two things. One, modesty. I think you can manage to woo and protect Merlin without being so brazen.

Arthur: Alright.

Gaius: Two, make things clear to Merlin before you start anything, because he won't believe you're in love with him until he hears it from your own mouth.

Arthur: I do plan to tell him when the time is right, Gaius. Don't worry.

Gaius: And Arthur... (stands up, suddenly threatening) Merlin is not just my ward, he's my boy. You may be The prince, but if you dare to hurt him-

Arthur: (firmly) I won't. I rather die before harming him in any way.

Gaius: (thinking) Yes, you say that now, but just because you don't know. (Sighs and says) Good. Now, if you excuse me, I must wait for Merlin in my chambers to prepare medicine for the imaginary patients I invented. (bows) Your Highness (leaves)

...

Scene where arthur is listing the 'events that are about to unfold' on a piece a patchment ☑︎

Credits to my best friend Rosangela, who helped me with some dialogues and situations, no only in this part, but several ones. Love you so much! ❤️

[russellsppttemplates]

Hi there, I hope you’re feeling better 🫶🏻🤍

I don’t know if you are taking requests but can you write a one shot where Charles is dating Y/N and she decides to do that tiktok prank where she serves a lot of food on his plate but only serves herself a little bit and she pretends there wasn’t enough food for the both of them? I think it would be hilarious, thank you!

Note: It hasn't been so bad, thank you for asking! Hopefully, you're good too! 🫶 until I say otherwise, my requests are always open and you can send things in anytime you want!

"Charles! Dinner is ready!", you called from the dining table, setting both bowls of pasta down. The one you set for Charles was as full as you could have it, piling the pasta shapes on it like an engineer.

"I'm here, I'm here", he called, encouraging Leo to walk with him and hop onto his bed by your feet, "did you forget your bowl, amour?", he asked once he saw the other bowl which was less than a fourth of the way full.

"Whose bowl do you think this is?", you chuckled.

"Leo's - although I think we should put some more chicken for him so it's not just pasta", Charles said as he was about to get up.

"Oh, that won't be able to happen - we have no more food", you blurted out, "and this my bowl - Leo already had his chicken while I was cooking this, didn't you, buddy?", you cooed, "eat your food, amour, it will get cold".

Charles didn't understand, "you're only eating that? Are you sick? Do you want me to make you something else?", he wondered.

"I thought we had more pasta than we needed, so I gave some to Leo - he thought it was delicious, by the way -, and when I noticed it, this was all we had left", you explained, "but it's fine, I'm not hungry anyway".

Now, the amount of pasta you'd have to have fed Leo to end up in this situation was far bigger than anything you could ever possibly do, so your boyfriend grew suspicious, "love, Leo's tummy is so tiny, he can't eat much, and I can share mine with you, I'm a good boyfriend like tha- oh! This is a prank, isn't it?", Charles groaned.

"I got the idea from Arthur - he sent it to me and said he would like to know what you did!", you hugged Charles, hands going around his neck and stroking his chest while you nuzzled your face on his neck.

"For a minute I was thinking the dog was going to explode - even though you're always the one making sure he's eating right!", Charles chuckled, kissing your hands.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[blackenedsnow]

I had a fluffy request idea I hope you like.

Arthur helps a child's dream come true by making a pair of saddlebags with a big enough pouch for the child to ride in. He and the child test it out by going for a horse ride.

a ride to remember

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Arthur Morgan & Child! Reader

NOTE: I absolutely love this request! I hope you enjoy this just as much as I enjoyed writing!

SUMMARY: Arthur takes it upon himself to make your dream come true by crafting a custom set of saddlebags with a special pouch just big enough for you to ride in.

Arthur leaned back on a log, wiping the sweat from his brow as he eyed his handiwork with pride. Before him sat the finished product—custom-made saddlebags that had taken him days of trial and error to craft. The special thing about them wasn’t the usual storage pouches for supplies; no, this time, one of the pouches had been designed to be large and cushioned enough to hold something, or rather, someone—you.

It all started a week ago when you’d nervously approached him, tugging at his sleeve and looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. You’d been fascinated with horses ever since Arthur had first taken you along on a short ride, but being too small to ride on your own had left you disappointed. The request you’d made had been simple yet almost heartbreaking: “Arthur… do you think there’s a way you could make a saddlebag I can sit in? I wanna ride like you do.”

Arthur had been caught off guard at first, staring down at you with those big eyes of yours. The thought of someone trusting him enough to fulfill such an innocent dream warmed him in a way he didn’t expect. After all, he wasn’t used to being the kind of man who made dreams come true, but something about you made him want to try.

And now, here he was, days later, standing next to his horse with the specially-made saddlebag ready to go. Arthur glanced over at you, standing nearby, practically bouncing on your toes in excitement.

“Ready to test ‘em out, kiddo?” he asked with a grin, patting the horse’s flank.

Your face lit up like a lantern as you nodded eagerly. “Really? You’re really gonna let me ride today?!”

Arthur chuckled, reaching down to lift you up. “Course I am. Can’t let all that hard work go to waste, can I?” He settled you carefully into the cushioned pouch, making sure you were snug and comfortable. The leather had been softened just enough so it wouldn’t be rough against your skin, and there was even a small blanket tucked inside for extra comfort.

He gave the saddlebag a gentle shake. “How’s that feel? You good?”

You wiggled a bit, grinning ear to ear. “It’s perfect! It’s like a little nest!”

Arthur’s smile softened as he watched you, seeing just how happy you were. There was something about the innocence in your joy that made him feel a sense of pride he didn’t often get to experience. He mounted the horse, steadying the reins before glancing back over his shoulder. “Alright, hold on tight, now. Let’s take ‘er slow to start.”

With a soft click of his tongue, Arthur set the horse into a gentle trot, the familiar rhythm of hooves against dirt filling the air. The open plains stretched out ahead of you both, and you leaned out of the saddlebag, arms resting on the edge as you marveled at the world around you. Everything felt so much bigger up here, so full of life and adventure. You couldn’t help but giggle, the wind brushing through your hair.

“This is amazing, Arthur!” you called out, your laughter contagious.

Arthur glanced back with a grin. “Told ya it’d be worth it, didn’t I?”

The two of you rode through the hills, the sun dipping low in the sky, casting everything in a warm, golden light. Arthur made sure to keep the pace easy, letting you get the full experience of riding without ever pushing the horse too hard. Occasionally, he’d point out landmarks, telling stories of old trails and the folks he’d met along the way.

“And over there,” he said, gesturing to a distant patch of trees, “that’s where I once ran into a bear. Big fella, too. Almost had me for dinner, but I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

You gasped, eyes wide with awe. “You fought a bear?!”

Arthur chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t say fought—more like I ran real fast the other way. That’s the smarter thing to do sometimes.”

As the day stretched on, the horse ride became more than just an adventure. It was a bonding moment, a memory you’d both hold onto for years. You felt safe up there, tucked into your saddlebag, with Arthur’s presence right in front of you. He’d occasionally glance back, making sure you were still enjoying yourself, and every time, he’d see your bright smile, and that was enough to make all the effort worth it.

When the sun finally began to set, casting long shadows across the plains, Arthur slowed the horse to a stop by a small creek. He dismounted first, then gently lifted you out of the saddlebag, setting you down on the soft grass.

“So, how was it?” he asked, kneeling to your height as he looked you in the eye.

You didn’t even hesitate, throwing your arms around him in a big hug. “It was the best day ever!”

Arthur’s breath caught for a moment, surprised by the sudden embrace, but he soon softened, wrapping his arms around you in return. “I’m glad, kiddo. Real glad.”

As you pulled away, your eyes sparkled with excitement, already talking about the next ride, the next adventure. Arthur just smiled, standing up and ruffling your hair. “You just let me know when you’re ready. We’ll go again.”

The evening sky was painted with hues of orange and pink as the two of you headed back to camp, your little dream now fulfilled, thanks to the kindness of a man who’d come to care for you like family. Arthur glanced down at you once more, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

“Glad I could make that dream come true,” he muttered under his breath, though there was no doubt—you heard every word.

[sebscore]

can we have more of leclerc!sister x ollie and the guys in her life reactions??? (idk im talking abt maybe some of the drivers and obs the brothers)

DO NOT POKE A BEAR UNTIL THEIR CLAWS COME OUT

pairings: ollie bearman x leclerc!reader / arthur leclerc x sister!reader / lorenzo leclerc x sister!reader / joris trouche x leclerc!reader / charles leclerc x sister!reader

warnings: swearing. car crash (but no one is hurt). an angry ollie. overall angst.

author's note: this came to me after finding a vid of ollie swearing on radio, cause arthur squeezed him on track. THIS IS SET IN AN IMAGINARY GRAND PRIX !!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''I don't think that's such a good idea, Y/N.'' Lorenzo muttered, glancing at her through his rear-view mirror.

His sister pouted, despite having expected his answer. ''It's just a one time thing, though! We haven't seen each other in so long and after the race, we won't see each other for like another week. I'm sure Thur will understand.'' She pleaded her case.

Explaining to her two oldest brothers that she wanted to stand in the Prema garage instead of the DAMS garage for the upcoming Grand Prix, wasn't something she had been looking forward to.

''I don't mind you going there, but I think Thur is going to be hurt by it.'' Charles gave his opinion, turning in his seat so he could properly look her in the eyes.

Y/N sighed, feeling conflicted. She knew she didn't necessarily need her family's approval to support Ollie from his team hospitality, but she still wanted it- perhaps to not feel as if she was ''betraying'' Arthur.

''Just talk to Thur, chérie. He's the only one that really matters.'' The eldest advised her.

The young girl nodded to his words. ''Yeah, I'll do that.'' She agreed, understanding that it was important to take Arthur's feelings into consideration.

Charles noticed his baby sister's doubtful expression. ''Hey, if you just explain it to him, he'll understand. Don't worry about it, petite.''

''Absolutely not. That's not happening.'' Arthur shook his head, standing up from the couch and moving to the kitchen.

Y/N followed him there. ''But Thur-''

''No,'' he abruptly turned around, his stern eyes focused on her, ''that's like saying you want me to lose. Ollie's my mate, but no, absolutely not.'' Arthur grabbed a glass from the cupboard.

''It's only for the feature race! I barely see him and I'd just like to be there when he's done. You literally see him more than me.'' She frowned, frustration present in her voice as she watched him grab the soda bottle from the fridge- was he even listening to her?

Arthur sighed loudly, letting his sister's words process in his brain. ''Only the feature race? Not the qualifying or the sprint? You'll only be there on Sunday?''

She quickly nodded her head. ''Yes, only Sunday. The rest of the weekend, I'll be with you.'' Y/N confirmed.

Her brother filled his glass, tilting his head as he thought of an answer. ''Hmmmm…'' He trailed, swirling his drink before his lips, staring at her through squinted eyes.

''Okay.''

Y/N's eyes widened. ''Really? You're okay with it?''

He nodded, a smile slowly appearing on his face. ''Yeah, but if I don't do well on Sunday, I will blame it on you.'' The smile turned into a teasing smirk, pointing his finger at her.

The youngest rolled her eyes, but went in for a hug. ''Thank you, Tutur.'' Arthur put his arm around her, his other one still holding onto his glass.

''Don't make me regret it, eh?'' He raised his left eyebrow.

She shook her head. ''I won't, thank you so much.'' Y/N pulled him closer, practically squeezing her older brother from excitement.

''Okay, that's enough love for today.''

''It's nice to see you before I get in the car.'' Ollie gushed. The couple stood a few metres away from his team and machinery, taking a moment for themselves before the race started.

Y/N smiled at her boyfriend. ''I know, I don't usually see you like this.'' He was nestled in his full racing gear, only his eyes visible through the visor of his helmet.

''You like the view?'' He wiggled his eyebrows, a teasing grin on his face.

The young girl pretended to think. ''I guess so.'' She dragged out her words, trying to sound not entirely convinced.

Ollie lightly tapped her arm. ''Hey! I know you can only see my eyes right now, but still.'' He defended himself, crossing his arms.

''No, no. I really like the view.'' Y/N gave in, her mischievous smirk turning into a genuine smile.

The Brit glanced down at his feet, seemingly blushing under his helmet and balaclava. ''Thank you,'' he told her in a small voice, having grown shy at the compliment, ''I would give you a hug, but we're still doing that private relationship thing so how about a fist bump?''

She cackled at the suggestion, but stuck out her fist, bumping it with his. ''The way you said that made me laugh.''

''Yeah? That's nice.'' He laughed to himself, happy he got a giggle out of her. ''Anyway- I have to get in the car now so I'll see you right after?'' An expecting look in his eyes.

''I'll be here,'' she smiled, ''be careful, alright? I know you'll do well, but I still want you to walk out of the car without a scratch.'' Y/N had a small gut feeling, it was probably nerves, but she couldn't shake it off.

''I will, darling.'' He assured her with a nod.

''Okay, good luck.'' She bid him goodbye, sending him off to his team while she made her way inside the Prema garage, standing next to Ollie's father.

David took a glance at the young girl. ''You always look this nervous, Y/N?'' He chuckled.

She tensely laughed. ''I used to worry about one guy, now I have to worry about two.'' Y/N explained her stress to him.

''I get that, but it's gonna be fine- don't worry that smart head of yours.'' David tried comforting her. He figured her anxiety was more bad than usual as she wasn't by her brothers' sides.

''I'll try.''

The race was going fine, the youngest Leclerc's nerves calming down as both her guys had clean starts and were battling in the Top 5. It wasn't until Croft's commentary that she realised her gut feeling had been correct.

''COLLUSION BETWEEN BEARMAN AND LECLERC! BOTH CARS OUT OF THE RACE!''

The crash wasn't big, but both cars ended up in the wall with some force. Arthur went along the inside of Ollie's car, but got squeezed by the Pourchaire and the former teammates made contact.

The entire Prema garage watched the screen with wide eyes, surprised by the sudden turn of events as they waited for a sign that both drivers were okay.

Oliver gave a quick ''I'm ok.'' through the radio, relief visibly going through everyone listening. The Brit was the first one to get out of their car, not sparing the Monégasque a glance as he walked away with one of the marshals.

Arthur followed swiftly, Y/N letting out a deep breath as her brother seemed physically alright from the crash.

The youngest Leclerc sibling noticed the wary eyes on her while she glanced around the garage. She could feel her head heating up due to embarrassment for the situation, hoping the Italian team wasn't cursing her out in their heads.

About 10 agonising minutes later, Ollie walked into the garage. David left their spot, while she stayed there- unsure of what the right thing to do was at that moment.

The young man was first approached by Anthoine who patted his back and whispered some inaudible words into his ear, most likely sweet comforts to calm him down.

As soon as the helmet and balaclava came off, it was obvious how angry he was with the situation. His usual smile traded for a tightlipped frown and a furious red colouring his cheeks.

Ollie merely nodded at his engineer and anyone who attempted to try to make him feel better about the unfortunate end to his race. His father gave him a hug, but David wasn't met with the infamous resting head on his shoulder.

The Brit pulled away and tilted his head towards the driver's room. ''I'm just gonna be in there for a while.'' He shook hands with some of the mechanics and made a run for it, leaving to be his own.

Jamie glanced at her, seeing the visible concern on the young girl's face. He signalled for her to talk to him, tilting his head at the garage exit.

Y/N hesitated, doubting the comfort she could bring to her boyfriend at that moment. However, Gigi gave her a soft push. ''You're the only person he's not going to ignore.'' He told her, confident in his words.

She nodded her head and took off her headset, carefully putting it back where she had gotten it from. Y/N smiled weakly at the Prema crew, almost feeling ashamed as it was partly her brother's fault that they would have to work even harder and longer tonight.

The Monégasque knocked two times on the door, opening it without hearing an answer. Ollie stood against the table, his racing suit hanging around his waist. The indifferent expression on his face worried her, not used to it.

''Are you okay? You're not hurt, right?'' She walked up to him, taking slow steps.

The youngest Leclerc put her hand on his back, relieved he didn't shrug her off like he had done with everyone else.

''I'm fine, probably just gonna be sore in the morning.'' Ollie mumbled, brushing his hand through his hair. The lack of eye contact not doing anything to ease her worries.

Y/N nodded. ''So… what happened there?'' She wanted to hear his side of the incident, already planning to ask Arthur the same thing later.

Ollie scoffed at the question. ''Your fucking brother obviously wanted to kill me with his car and just slammed us both into the walls.'' He exclaimed, getting worked up again.

His answer stunned her, simply staring at him with a frown on her face.

''Like what the fuck did I do? Is it cause I'm your boyfriend and he wants to pull that overprotective brother agenda? It's stupid, everything is so stupid.'' Ollie continued, leaving her side and pacing the rather small room.

The young girl waited a few seconds before saying her next words. ''It was just an accident, Arthur wouldn't run into you on purpose.'' She defended her brother, knowing how Arthur considered Ollie one of his closest friends on the grid.

''Of course you're going to take his side. It was not an accident, Y/N- oh, whatever.'' He sighed, sitting down on one of the chairs, and grabbing his phone from his bag.

''I'm not taking sides! It just looked like an incident, it's no ones fault.'' She stated, clarifying what she meant.

Ollie rolled his eyes, frustration still overtaking all of his other emotions. ''You're really saying that was a fucking racing incident? I get that he's your brother, but that doesn't mean he can't make mistakes.''

''You think I wouldn't point it out if Thur made a mistake?'' Y/N chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. ''I'm not the biggest racing expert, but it was quite clear that it was an accident.''

The Brit remained quiet, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram despite having gone through all the new posts already.

Y/N observed him, her disappointment growing over her boyfriend's behaviour. ''I really don't like how you're acting right now.'' She disapprovingly shook her head.

''How am I acting right now?''

''Like an asshole, Ollie.'' She cursed, startling the Prema driver as it doesn't happen often.

He scoffed once again. ''I'm not being an asshole, I just can't believe you're not on my side on this.''

''I'm not on your side? I'm here for you, aren't I? I could easily be standing in my brother's garage right now with my family, but I'm here for you, because I want to be here.'' Y/N retorted, not wanting to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

''If you want to be there so much, then go to fucking DAMS.'' Ollie said, before standing up and turning around to change his clothes. Y/N watched him with sad eyes, feeling dejected over his careless attitude.

The young girl stood frozen in place for a few moments, after which she turned around and opened the door. ''Bye, I guess.''

She wanted to close the door with a lot of strength so a loud ''bang'' would be produced, but she wanted to remain polite in front of the Prema team and potentially damaging one of their doors doesn't exactly scream politeness.

Y/N got out of the backdoor of the hospitality, too humiliated to face anyone and explain what happened in the driver's room. She stumbled around the F2 paddock, in search of the DAMS hospitality so she could check up on her brother.

In a moment of absent-mindedness, Little Leclerc bumped into the body of another person with quite a force. ''Oh, I'm so sorry.'' She apologised before even seeing who she had run into.

''It's okay- Y/N?'' Her head shot up at the gentle voice of Joris, a rush of relief going through her body that she'd found a familiar face.

Her brother's friend properly greeted her with a hug, bending down a little. Joris could see by the look on her face that not everything was right with her. ''Hey, ça va?'' He rubbed her back.

''Is Thur okay?'' Y/N deflected the question, wanting to know about her brother's wellbeing.

Joris nodded, a frown appearing. ''Yeah, just a bit of neck pain, but nothing too serious.'' He answered. ''What's wrong, petite? You look a bit sad.''

Y/N’s eyes started watering, not able to get the words out at the reminder of her and Ollie's disagreement. The older man in front of her noticed what was going on and pulled her in his embrace. ''Hey, don't cry. What happened?''

The youngest Leclerc shook her head. ''Ollie, he- he told me to go away.'' She sniffled between her words, tears rolling down her cheeks.

''What do you mean? Wait, let's go to Enzo.'' His hands gently grabbed her shoulders and he guided her to the DAMS hospitality where her two brothers were calming down after the eventful but short race.

She dried her tears while making their way to Arthur's driver room, not wanting other people to know that she had been crying.

Joris opened the door, making Arthur and Lorenzo turn their heads towards them. ''Hi, chérie.'' The eldest greeted her before noticing her teary eyes and flushed face. ''Did you cry?''

Lorenzo walked over to her, cupping her face. ''Is Ollie okay?''

''Yeah, he's just really mad.'' Y/N mumbled, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

Arthur shifted in his seat. ''It really was a racing incident, we were both at the wrong place at the wrong time.'' He explained, a similar frustration visible to Ollie's.

''I know that, I tried to explain that to him and he started saying shit.''

Both of her brothers furrowed their eyebrows. ''What did he say? Something about me?'' The DAMS driver asked.

''I asked him what happened and he was saying that Thur tried to kill him, and that you did it cause he's my boyfriend and that you wanted to be an overprotective brother.'' Their sister summarised for them.

''That's bullshit.'' Arthur said, rolling his eyes.

''I told him you wouldn't do that and that it was just an incident, but then he got upset and said I should be on his side, and that there was no way that it was just an incident. Then I told him he was acting like an asshole and he said that he wasn't,'' the three men chuckled when she mentioned calling her boyfriend an asshole, ''he was just upset that I wasn't taking his side and I told him that I was there for him, and then he basically told me to leave.'' A tear escaped her eye which she quickly wiped away.

The men frowned. ''He told you to leave?'' Lorenzo repeated her words, stunned by what she was telling them. He couldn't even imagine the young man asking that of her.

Y/N nodded her head, a pout forming on her face.

''Is he still in the garage? That bastard.'' Arthur got up from his seat, moving to the door with large strides but being stopped by Joris. ''We're not gonna do that.''

''If he's angry with me, he should curse me out! Not my sister.'' The youngest brother reasoned, holding up his arm as if he was pointing at Ollie. Arthur understood the Brit's frustrations, but he shouldn't take them out on his baby sister.

Lorenzo grabbed his brother's shoulder. ''How about instead of causing more trouble, you console your sister?''

Arthur sighed, but approached the young girl. ''Come here,'' he pulled her in an embrace, her arms going around his waist, ''he shouldn't talk to you like that, Y/N.'' Her brother caressed the back of her head.

''I know.'' Y/N pouted.

He hugged closer upon hearing her defeated voice, hating how sad she sounded. ''You want me to actually kill him next race?'' The question managed to crack a smile out of the young girl.

''That's more like it.'' Lorenzo grinned, relieved Arthur cheered her up- even if it was only momentarily.

''Hey Y/N, I'm going to Cha now, you want to come with me?'' Joris suggested taking her with him, figuring she could use the distraction. ''I'll let you take some pictures.'' He held up his camera, knowing she enjoyed messing around with it.

''Yeah, I'll go with you.'' She agreed, gloomily lifting her lips.

Her brothers both gave her a few pats on the back. ''We'll join you in a while, okay?'' Lorenzo told them, assuring her they wouldn't be too far behind them.

''Okay, can I have some money for food, though? They have smoothies at the F1 paddock.'' Y/N's sorrowful expression traded in for a pout, her doe eyes attempting to convince her brother to give her some money.

Lorenzo pretended to be shocked by her question, overdramatically widening his eyes. ''Money? You want money? Why don't you ask Charles, he's got a lot more than I have.'' Her oldest brother exaggerated.

''Because he's probably already wearing his racing suit and there's no cash or cards in there.'' Little Leclerc replied, a 'duh'-tone present in her voice.

The three men looked impressed by her answer, entertained by her quick comeback. ''That's a great reason, actually.'' Arthur admitted, his sister's reply having him think about how driver's never carry money in their racing suits.

Lorenzo sighed, but pulled out his wallet- a squeal leaving the young girl's mouth. ''Thank you, Enzo.''

She held out her hands to grab the money, but her brother pulled the few notes of cash back. ''Only on food! Not unnecessary memorabilia that will just sit in your drawer.'' The stern look on his face didn't intimidate her, but she was aware not to mess with Enzo's words.

''I promise, only food. Joris will keep an eye on me, won't you?'' Y/N mischievously glanced at her brother's best friend, already knowing he'll let her get away with anything.

The photographer nodded to Lorenzo, ''promising'' to not let her spend his money on anything other than food.

Her brother slowly handed her the money, Y/N immediately taking it and putting it in her pocket. ''Thank you, Lolo.'' She used his old nickname, teasing him a little more.

''Get out of here before I take it back.''

Arthur's team debrief didn't last as long as it usually did. Normally, they would have a lot to discuss about the feature race, but since his was cut short, there wasn't much to talk about. His team did advise him to clear the air with Ollie, since the Brit seemed very upset about the collision.

The Monégasque driver didn't have a huge interest in speaking to his younger friend, but at the end of the day- Ollie was his FDA teammate and also friend, he didn't want there to be conflict between the two of them. Yes, he wanted to kill the guy for speaking to his sister like that, but that was something for the couple to resolve.

Arthur went straight from the DAMS hospitality to the area where all the F2 drivers resided, on his way to discuss what happened with the Prema driver. He didn't put any haste behind his steps, not looking forward to meeting eye-to-eye with him.

The youngest Leclerc brother waited a few moments before knocking on Ollie's door, appreciating the calm before the expected storm.

His three knocks came out louder than he had intended, scaring himself a little by the noises. Arthur heard a faint ''Come in'' and opened the door, being confronted with a rare sight.

A crying Ollie.

''Hey, mate.'' The young Brit greeted him, rubbing his eyes and leaving a red colour behind. Oliver stood up from the chair he was sitting on, but Arthur insisted he sat back down with a simple wave of his hand.

The older one grabbed a nearby chair and sat himself next to him, observing the youngster's puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. ''Hey, are you okay?''

Ollie nodded his head, but the emotions on his face told a different story. ''Yeah, uhm, sorry about the race- I reacted a little heated, it was no one's fault really.'' He rambled, the words coming out of his mouth at a rapid pace.

''It's alright, we've all been there,'' Arthur brushed his apology off, understanding it was the heat of the moment that made him respond like that, ''but, uh, you know, my sister is really upset about what happened.''

The Prema driver looked down at his hands upon hearing Arthur's words, a tear falling from the corner of his eye onto his knuckles. ''I- I- I know, I was a fucking asshole- I was just very upset about the race, but I shouldn't have acted like that. I'm really sorry, Arthur.''

''No, I understand, but you shouldn't say sorry to me, you know?''

The DAMS rookie's anger had wittered and was replaced by sympathy. Arthur still didn't like how Ollie had acted towards his sister, but seeing how much it affected his former teammate almost broke his heart.

''Yeah, I know.'' The tears started flowing again and soon enough the bottom of Ollie's sleeves were covered with damp tears. ''I just- is she gonna break up with me?''

Arthur immediately shook his head. ''No, no, no! I think she's just sad with you right now, but she won't break up with you, Ollie! Are you crazy.'' He assured him, chuckling the last part.

''Good,'' Ollie sighed out of relief, ''I don't know what to think or do. I've never been in this situation before.'' He admitted, an attempt to confide in his girlfriend's older brother.

''I get that, but don't worry too much. Y/N is a very understanding person, and if you explain to her, she will forgive you- just give her some time to like… calm down.'' Arthur advised him, knowing his little sister would accept his apology as long as he proper;y explained himself.

Ollie carefully listened to each word that left Arthur's mouth, nodding along. ''Okay, yeah… but like- how much time is that?'' He asked him.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. ''I don't know. Maybe send her a text, saying that you would like to talk whenever she feels ready to talk.'' He suggested, offering him a solution that always worked whenever he and Carla had a disagreement.

The Brit nodded again, pulling his phone out of his pocket. ''Yeah, that's great, actually. Uh, so I just send her that?'' Ollie sought out assurance again, afraid he was doing something wrong.

He felt relief once again when Arthur nodded his head. ''Yes, I don't know if she will respond right away, but I think she'll be happy that you want to talk.''

With Arthur's confirmation, he typed away on his phone.

ollie 🧸: hi ❤ whenever you feel ready to talk, just let me know x

ollie 🧸: i was being an asshole, I'm really sorry :(

ollie 🧸: hope you're okay, love x

Ollie showed his friend the texts, tension leaving his shoulders at his nod. ''That's good, I know she'll appreciate that. She can't stay mad at you.''

The younger one smiled at that, cheeks heating up. ''I hope so, I don't like the thought of her being upset, especially if it's with me.''

A grin appeared on Arthur's face. ''Oooh~ so cute!'' He bumped his shoulder against Ollie's, teasing the younger guy. ''But seriously, Ollie- she likes you a lot and this will be forgotten in a few days.''

''Yeah… we're fine, right?'' Ollie wasn't too sure where he stood now with the Monégasque, concerned this might affect their friendship.

Arthur snickered at the visible worryness on his face. ''Of course! I mean- I came in here to punch you in the face, but then I saw you cry and I felt bad.'' He joked, although it wasn't that far-fetched.

''Y/N always says that the three of you like me, but sometimes… I don't know, you guys look at me like you want to kill me.'' Ollie said it with a chuckle, but it had been a legitimate concern of his ever since he started dating the youngest Leclerc sibling.

Arthur sighed and put his arm over the Brit's shoulder. ''We like you, Ollie. It's just this big brother thing, you know? This is her first real relationship, we don't want her to be heartbroken over a boy,'' he calmly explained, understanding where the younger one was coming from, ''but we really like you and we want the best for you. Enzo and Charles even check on your races and stuff, they wouldn't do that if they hated you.''

The Leclerc brothers truly had grown fond of the young Brit over the last months. They had seen the positive effect he had on their sister and that was more than enough for them to ''approve'' their new brother-in-law. At first, they were apprehensive about the fact that he was a fellow racing driver, but the 2 teenagers seemed to handle everything well- comforting their worries.

''They really do that? Awesome.'' Ollie smiled to himself, honoured that Lorenzo and Charles caught up on his race results and standings.

Arthur threw him the infamous Leclerc wink. ''Don't worry so much, you're a great gay.''

''I'm a what?'' Ollie's eyes widened as the words left the older one's mouth.

Arthur speaks English with a heavy French accent, causing him to pronounce certain words differently. The most famous example, the way he says ''guy''.

The Monégasque copied Ollie's expression as soon as he realised what he had actually told him. ''No, no! Guy, you're a great guy!'' He pronounced it more clearly this time, making sure the 18 year-old didn't misunderstand him.

''Oh, okay. I- I was confused for a second there.'' Ollie awkwardly laughed it off, glancing at Arthur. ''You should be a bit more careful with your pronunciation, you don't want to get in trouble.''

''Isn't June the gay month? At least I won't be in trouble then.''

''You mean pride month?''

there won’t be a part 2 as this is more arthur x ollie focused! pls don’t ask for a part 2 in the comments or my inbox, I will just ignore it! 🤍

• • • • • • •

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[charlesslut16]

-En couple-

summary : you and charles were secretly dating and charles told the world about you two...

PAIRING : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : badly translated french

note : just to say this here : i am happy for charles and alexandra. i just did it because it got the idea for this imagine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles and you were in a secret relationship. No one knew, except for Arthur, Carlos, Lorenzo and Andrea. You both tried hiding it from them, but Arthur, Carlos and Lorenzo walked in on you two while you were cuddling in his driver's room.

Andrea and charles were almost every day together, so it was bound to happen that he would find out. He had three weeks off from racing and then it happened. You had visited him in his home for, said goodbye to him and walked out of his house on the street. 

But unfortunately, Charles and Andrea had agreed to meet up to go jogging. As always, Andrea came early and came when you left the house. Charles also came to the door to bring you something you forgot. As Andrea saw you both, he knew exactly what was going on.

But now you were standing next to Andrea while Charles was making an interview with gala for APM Monaco. He was asked questions of his personal and racing life.

Charles started with "Charles Leclerc." and the interview began.

"Date et lieu de naissance?" Date and place of birth.

"16 octobre 1997 à Monaco"

"statut?" status?

"En couple" in a relationship.

There it was. In a Relationship. You were not secret anymore, charles published your relationship to the world. You look at charles and then back to Andrea, who seemed to have the same facial expression as you did.

Not only that, but you couldn't even hear the other questions and answered, as you were stuck with his answer from before. In a relationship. Charles was always so careful with what he said on the social media. 

You and Andrea waited for charles to finish his interview. He came to you guys, gave Andrea a fist bump and gave you a kiss on your forehead, while he intertwined his hand with yours. You three walked back to his motor home.

While you walked to his motor home, Andrew and you looked at each other with confusion. Charles didn't notice, he signed photos and gave autographs, all while having a big smile on his face.

"Charles?" 

"Yes baby? "

"In the interview, you said that you were taken, but I thought you didn't want the world to know about us. " You answered him, not knowing if what you said was the right thing to say.

"I wanted it to make it public because I hate hiding our relationship. You know we are not good at that. Is it okay that I said it?" He rambled, chuckling but stopping, as he saw your unsure face. 

"It's okay, I was just surprised. But next time you drop something about us, let me know first, okay?" 

Charles nodded and gave you another kiss on your forehead. Then coming to you era whispering an 'I love you, mon amour'. Charles said goodbye to Andrea and took your hand again.

You let the day go on, talking to other people in the motor home and talking with Isa about something. Isa and you always talked about the stupidest things, when you were alone.

Before charles told the world that you were together, you could walk around the paddock without anybody asking who you were or why you were there, but now every fan asked you if you were the girlfriend of Charles Leclerc. 

In the early evening, charles and you bid farewell and went to your apartment to chill and releax your evening. You walked along the paddock, while fans asked you questions, which you didn't aswer.

 You just wanted away. Disappear. The questions were overwhelming you to the point where you wanted to cry, but charles was there to help you. You know that the fans wanted to know more about your relationship, but you thought it was too early.

Charles and you went into your apartment. You went into the shower first because charles told you that he needed to post something on his insta, so you agreed to go first. 

Charles went after you while you laid on your bed. While you were on the bed, you were scrolling through Insta, liking charles post and scrolling through his comments.

In the comments, there were many question about 'Who is that, Charles?' 'Where/When did you meet each other' or 'How long have you been together for'.

You were mid through the comments, until you felt a hand, charles hand to be precise, on your waist. You hadn't heard him, come out of the bathroom nor coming in to the room, sliding next to you.

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais, mon beau tournesol?" Charles asked you, pulling you against his body and cuddling his head in the crook of your neck. What are you doing, my beautiful sunflower?

You look your phone, tuned around in charles arms, whispered a quick 'nothing' and nuzzled yourself into his warm embrace. You were safe and sound in his arms. He shook his head, while he let out a quick chuckle, at your answer and giving you a kiss on your temple.

He turned around, with you in his embrace, turning the lamp on your nightstand off and now laying on his back, so you could put your head on his chest and cuddle him.

"Je t’aime, mon beau tournesol." I love you, my beautiful sunflower.

"Je t'aime." I love you.

[the-kingshound]

I loved the update just because it exists. I loved the bit with the mounts (especially Arthur's trying to ground MC) but my tiny bit of concrit is the "I know you're a mage" convo feels...shoehorned? Like we get the panic attack and Arthur just says he doesn't think the same way as Uther and it's just...It feels (imo) that the Hound once more just accepts Arthur at face value again? I loved the rewrite making the Hound more wary of Arthur, and this kinda felt like a slip? Idk it just feels like there could be...more there. Or perhaps Arthur will try to revisit the topic? Cause like idk about you but if I was just told "I don't want to do anything to you buuuuuut people in my court might," I'd feel threatened and like...I wouldn't believe a single word prior to the "my court might" part. Cause like the Hound is a political prisoner, the nobles (Our sister in law is amazing) made that clear, so it's just another chain Arthur is adding, a little "Be careful love, you don't know what SOMEONE might do if they found out you're a mage :) :)", you know?

And as someone who played as a Hound who is absolutely dreading this marriage (they literally feel like a prisoner) that whole thing kinda felt as if that wasn't an option? Like for example, the walking into the church thingy you have: I feel better, I'm not alone, and the "I am strong and proud" options, but no real option for...just numb? I personally just headcanoned the Hound was disassociated to the point they won't remember the day at all. (I kinda hope we might just get to breakdown with our brothers, or idk alone in the dark)

Also I forget, but is this a game where we have to rack up romance points to lock in? Or one we choose the route? Because I honestly didn't feel that my Hound would want to talk to anyone during what is (to them) a celebration of their collaring/house's defeat.

BUUUUT I truly do hope you take this as constructive. You won't please all of us, and you shouldn't try to. I love that you gave us even this and you are incredibly strong and lovely for pushing through everything. If I am out of line, feel free to ignore or tell me off and I'll just smash my Hound into a better mold for the story lol. After all, it is your story, tell it how you want.

I would really like to give you a long response to your very helpful feedback, but I fear I am lacking the energy to do so. I just want you to know that I hear you, and in truth you make really good points.

1) yeah I do admit I was getting close to burnout with writing in this update, and that scene in particular might have suffered for it. I'll revise it, and hopefully try to not make the interaction feel so jarring. (Note: did you try to pick the more... aggressive option? It goes in a different way, maybe it is less weird?)

2) you are totally right on the options for the marriage - especially because you can play a very numb MC. I'll either edit or add that option. Ohh and the breakdown with the siblings is peak idea. I'm writing that down.

3) as for the romance points: this game is focused strongly on MC. You can choose the pace of the relationship your Hound develops, and for romance, you need to first have some platonic points with said RO. Platonic means in this case that MC wants to spend time with them, and doesn't have to go further than what will become a lifelong friendship.

You do have to pick at least an option to have platonic points with a RO, but you won't get locked out of anything in this game. Every choice shapes your personal Hound's story, this is not a game that punishes you, or that is focused solely on romance.

Thank you for sending this in! This kind of feedback, especially if worded clearly and kindly lik you did, can be so helpful and I love getting it even if it makes me pause and rethink some things.

[noforkingclue]

Evening, I have that idea of a tommy Shelby x wife reader for days. It's more an the tiny side so reader walks to tommy, doesn't matter if he's alone or now and it's like "do you have a affair?" Tommy is puzzled because "of course not the fuck?!" OK, I believe you and I don't know if it should calm me down, because then it means that your son had a girl in the car I have fin her bra" and it more about the awkward family stuff when their realized that their son isr not so little anymore

Note: requests are currently closed

Yes of course! Sorry it took so long to publish. Hope you like the fic :D

Title: Found Out

Warnings: some suggestive content but nothing nsfw, mentions of past cheating

The door to Tommy’s office slammed open and you glared at your husband. John and Arthur glanced between the two of you as you stormed over to Tommy. Tommy frowned and put down the paperwork he was looking at, confused about why you were so angry. You stopped directly in front of his desk and glared down at him.

“Thomas,” you said, your voice icy, “is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“Tell you what, love?” he asked

“Have you been fucking cheating on me?”

John and Arthur shared a knowing look. You had been married to their brother for almost two years and Tommy had sworn that he’d be loyal to you. Well, they knew that was too good to be true. Sooner or later Tommy would see a pretty little thing and he’d be tempted away. Tommy looked up at you sharply, his blue eyes glinting dangerously.

“Of course not,” he said, his voice scarily level, “why the fuck would you think that?”

“Because I found these in my car.”

You slammed down a pair of underwear that clearly belonged to a woman. John choked on his whiskey.

“I think you two should leave,” said Tommy, his eyes never leaving you, “right now.”

Arthur quickly stood up and practically dragged John out of the room. You looked over your shoulder before marching over and checking that they (mainly John) weren’t listening in at the door. When you were certain that you and Tommy were alone and made your way back over to the desk. You folded your arms and looked down at the offending object. Tommy picked up a pen and used it to pick up the underwear.

“If this is your way of telling me that you purchased something new,” he said, “well, it leaves much to be desired. I can think of other more enjoyable ways of showing me your underwear.”

He put them down and relaxed back in his chair. You wrinkled your nose and said,

“You really think I’d wear something like that? Those are clearly for a much younger woman.”

You collapsed into a chair and said,

“If you are fucking another woman I’d rather have you tell me. I don’t want to be humiliated by having everyone know about your little mistress. Tell me so I know what to do.”

Tommy sighed and stood up. He poured you both a large drink and handed one of the glasses to you. You took a large gulp and Tommy leant against his desk.

“Have I ever lied to you before?” he asked

“No.”

“So why would I be lying to you now?”

You gave him an unimpressed look and raised your eyebrows. Tommy sighed and took a sip of his own drink. He’ll admit, but only to himself, that his past behaviour with other women might cause you to be suspicious. You had every right to act like this, even if he didn’t necessarily like it.

“And you found these in your car.” he said

“Yes. In the back seat.”

You shook your head and took another gulp. You stood up and slammed your empty glass on the table. You walked over to the window and looked out of it as you tried to figure out who would used your car to-

You closed your eyes and let out a groan. Tommy gave you a knowing smile as you turned to face him.

“Charlie,” you said as Tommy nodded, “I knew I shouldn’t have leant it to him. He usually never asks to use mine. That should’ve been a warning in the first place.”

“He’s not a child anymore,” said Tommy, “we should’ve been expecting this.”

“I know,” you came and sat down next to him and rested your head against his shoulder, “I know. But in my car, Tom.”

Tommy wrapped an arm around you and pressed a kiss against the side of your head.

“That’s what you sound most upset about,” he said, “that it was in your car.”

“I would’ve preferred it if he did it in a bedroom,” you said, “or someone else’s car. He’s going to have to pay for it to be cleaned. Like you said, he’s not a child anymore. He can damn well suffer the consequences of his actions.”

You groaned and pressed your forehead against his shoulder.

“They grow up so fast,” you said, “it seems like only yesterday he was a small child. Sometimes I miss him when he was that age.”

“Well,” Tommy leant down, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear, his arm snaking around your waist, “I’m sure there’s something we could do about that.”