#who else knows his brothers like he does?

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 1: March 2023

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

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

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

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

Warnings and Notes: 

....Do not expect particular quick updates on this, because it's a beast of a story. Also: kinda Charles bashing, but not really? You'll see.

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

A Bar in Montecarlo: 

Max had come to the bar for a quiet drink, not to get his world flipped upside down. But then he spotted her.

She was standing at the counter, waiting for her drink, all soft confidence and effortless elegance. The kind of woman who didn’t need to try to turn heads—she just did. And Max, never one to let an opportunity pass him by, slid up beside her with his most charming smirk and opened his mouth. 

And because apparently, he had actually listened the last time Lando told him all about the absolutely horrible Pick-Up-Lines that he had tried with middling success…that was what came out of his mouth.

“Excuse me,” he said smoothly, “but do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

She turned, amused—

And Max nearly choked.

Because he knew her.

His brain scrambled for a second before his mouth caught up. “Oh, shit. You’re Charles’ little sister.”

Her entire expression changed. The amusement faded, her jaw tightening. “Wow,” she deadpanned. “That’s one way to ruin a moment.”

Max grimaced. “That’s not what I—”

She picked up her drink and turned fully toward him, raising a brow. “I do have a name, you know.”

He nodded quickly, recovering. “Right. Isabelle.”

“Good job,” she said dryly. “Want a gold star?”

Max huffed out a laugh. “Look, I just wasn’t expecting you. I see a beautiful woman at a bar, and my instinct is to flirt. Then I realize she’s my colleague’s little sister, and I panic.”

Her lips twitched. “And?”

“And… I’m still going to flirt with you,” he admitted, grinning. “But properly this time.”

She tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh?”

Max leaned in slightly. “Can I buy you a drink, Isabelle?”

She pretended to consider. “That depends. Are you going to keep calling me Charles’ little sister?”

He placed a hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear never to utter those words again.”

Her lips curled in the slightest smirk. “In that case, sure. Let’s see if you can impress me, Verstappen.”

Max had never been one to back down from a challenge. And something told him this was a challenge he’d never want to walk away from.

Max flagged down the bartender, ordering another round for both of them. Isabelle took a slow sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of her glass like she was trying to decide if he was worth her time.

He liked that. Liked that she wasn’t falling over herself just because he was Max Verstappen.

“So,” he said, leaning against the bar, “what exactly would impress you?”

She hummed, tapping a finger against her glass. “A conversation that doesn’t involve my brothers.”

Max smirked. “That easy?”

“You’d be surprised how many people fail that test.”

He could imagine. Charles was everywhere in the racing world, and by extension, so was Isabelle. It must be exhausting, always being seen as an extension of someone else.

Max took the challenge seriously. “Alright,” he said, shifting toward her. “Tell me something about you that has nothing to do with your family.”

She studied him for a moment, like she was assessing if he was genuine. Then, after a beat, she said, “I work in architecture.”

Max blinked. “Really?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I never thought about what you do.”

She smirked. “That’s because you’ve only ever seen me as Charles’ little sister.”

Max winced. “Okay, fair. But I’m interested now.”

“Are you?” She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “I have heard your name at work before.”

Max frowned. “You have?”

“Oh, yeah,” Isabelle said, taking another sip of her drink. “Apparently, you’ve been house hunting. One of my colleagues nearly had a meltdown over the idea of designing a place for Max Verstappen.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Wait… which project?”

She bit back a smile. “A penthouse. You toured it a few weeks ago.”

Max suddenly knew exactly which one she was talking about. He had liked the place, but something had held him back from committing.

Now, though?

Now, he was very seriously considering signing the papers just for an excuse to see her again.

He leaned in, watching her reaction closely. “And if I were to, say, buy that penthouse?”

She didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’d know you had good taste.”

Max grinned. “That’s it?”

She shrugged. “That, and I’d probably have to endure my colleagues freaking out for at least a week.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, then. Guess I have some decisions to make.”

Isabelle rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile.

Yeah. He was definitely buying that penthouse.

Max drummed his fingers against the bar, pretending to think. "Alright, so let’s say I do buy that penthouse. Hypothetically."

Isabelle gave him a knowing look. "Hypothetically."

"Would I get a personal consultation?"

She laughed, shaking her head. "That’s not how it works."

"But if I had, I don’t know, questions about the design, or maybe some concerns about the layout, I’d need someone to talk to, wouldn’t I?"

Isabelle swirled the last of her drink in her glass, watching him with an amused glint in her eyes. "Max, are you trying to say you need my number for professional reasons?"

He grinned, tilting his head. "I mean, what if I need an expert opinion? You are the only architect I know."

She sighed in mock exasperation, but he could tell she was entertained. "I really shouldn’t encourage this."

"But you want to," Max countered, smirking.

Her lips twitched, and after a moment’s pause, she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. "Fine. Give me yours, I’ll text you."

Max typed in his number so fast that she actually laughed. She typed something in her phone. 

A second later, his phone buzzed with a new message.

Unknown Number: Congratulations on your completely unbiased, definitely not suspicious real estate decision.

Max chuckled. "So, what happens if I text you about things that aren’t penthouse-related?"

Isabelle lifted her glass to her lips and said, before taking the last sip, "Guess we’ll find out."

And just like that, Max Verstappen knew he was completely screwed.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

(Unknown Number): Hey, it’s Max.

(Unknown Number): Verstappen.

(Unknown Number): Just in case you know a lot of Maxes.

Isabelle: I don’t.

Max: Good. Would hate to have competition already.

Isabelle: Already?

Max: What can I say? I like you.

Isabelle: You barely know me.

Max: That’s true. But I’d like to change that.

Isabelle: …That was smooth.

Max: Was it?

Isabelle: Surprisingly, yes.

Max: Noted. I’ll add it to my very short list of smooth moments.

Isabelle: Very short?

Max: Tragically short.

Isabelle: I don’t know if I believe that.

Max: I promise, my sister would confirm it.

Isabelle: You have a sister?

Max: Victoria.

Isabelle: Right, I think I’ve seen her before.

Max: Probably. She’d probably like you, by the way.

Isabelle: Oh?

Max: Yeah. She has a good instinct about people.

Isabelle: And what does your instinct say?

Max: That I really, really want to see you again.

Isabelle: You’re very direct, aren’t you?

Max: Is that a bad thing?

Isabelle: No. Just… unexpected.

Max: Well, I can be subtle too.

Isabelle: Can you?

Max: Definitely. For example, I could subtly ask what you’re doing tomorrow night.

Isabelle: …Very subtle.

Max: Thank you. So?

Isabelle: I might be free.

Max: Good. Then I’ll subtly ask if you’d like to have dinner with me.

Isabelle: Are you always like this?

Max: Only when I really like someone.

Isabelle: …Dinner sounds nice.

Max: Perfect. I’ll send you the details.

Isabelle: Looking forward to it.

Max: Me too.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: I met someone.

Victoria: …Okay?

Max: And I think I’m in love.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: You literally just met her??

Max: Yes.

Victoria: And you think you’re in love?

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: Max.

Victoria: WHAT.

Victoria: HOW.

Victoria: WHY.

Max: I don’t know, Vic. I just know. I met her tonight and I just…I just know.

Victoria: You’ve known her for one night.

Max: Yes.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Vic.

Victoria: Oh my god, you’re serious.

Max: Very.

Victoria: You’re actually gone for her already.

Max: Completely.

Victoria: …Okay.

Max: Okay?

Victoria: Yeah.

Victoria: I mean, I think you’re insane, but if anyone deserves to fall stupidly, recklessly in love, it’s you.

Max: …Thanks, Vic.

Victoria: You deserve to be loved, Max.

Victoria: For who you are. Not because you’re Max Verstappen, two-time world champion, but just because you’re you.

Max: …

Max: I think she sees me that way.

Victoria: Then hold onto her.

Max: I plan to.

Victoria: Is that why you’re texting me at midnight like a lunatic?

Max: …I may have also just bought that penthouse.

Victoria: MAX.

Victoria: YOU HAVE BEEN UNDECIDED ABOUT THAT PENTHOUSE FOR MONTHS.

Victoria: AND NOW YOU MEET A GIRL AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE BUYING IT???

Max: Her architecture firm is working on it.

Victoria: This is why people say Libras are intense.

Max: That’s astrology nonsense.

Victoria: SAYS THE MAN PLANNING A WHOLE FUTURE AFTER ONE CONVERSATION.

Max: I have a good feeling about it.

Victoria: MAX.

Max: What? You just said I deserve to be loved.

Victoria: YES, BUT I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D LOSE YOUR ENTIRE MIND OVER IT.

Max: Too late.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Victoria: You are actually the most ridiculous person alive.

Victoria: But if she makes you happy… then I’m happy for you.

Max: She does.

Victoria: Then that’s all that matters.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Emergency. Crisis. Disaster.

Emilie: That’s a lot of words. What happened?

Isabelle: I have a date.

Emilie: And that’s a disaster because…?

Isabelle: Because it’s with Max Verstappen.

Emilie: …

Emilie: I’m going to need a second.

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie:

Emilie: Okay, I’m back. WHAT???

Isabelle: We met at a bar. He asked me out. I said yes. And now I don’t know what to wear. Focus. Help.

Emilie: We met at a bar, he asked me out, I said yes—DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF???

Isabelle: EMILIE. FOCUS. OUTFIT.

Emilie: Right. Okay. Where is he taking you?

Isabelle: Some fancy restaurant. Not too fancy, but still expensive.

Emilie: God, of course. Okay. Simple but elegant. A dress that makes it look like you didn’t try too hard, even though you absolutely did.

Isabelle: Black dress?

Emilie: Obviously. And heels. You own some ridiculous ones. Wear those.

Isabelle: You are suspiciously good at this.

Emilie: Because I have taste. Now, more importantly—DO YOUR BROTHERS KNOW??

Isabelle: …

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: No, they do not.

Emilie: WHY NOT???

Isabelle: Because I don’t want to deal with it.

Emilie: You are dating CHARLES LECLERC’S BIGGEST RIVAL. YOU DON’T THINK THAT’S WORTH MENTIONING???

Isabelle: One date does not mean I’m dating him.

Emilie: YET.

Isabelle: I don’t think Charles would care.

Emilie: …That is the saddest sentence I have ever read.

Emilie: You don’t think Charles would care.

Isabelle: No.

Emilie: Are we talking about the same man??? The one who holds grudges against people for bad karting races from 15 years ago??

Isabelle: I am saying that I am basically invisible in my family, and therefore, he will not care.

Emilie: THAT IS SO DEPRESSING.

Isabelle: It’s just reality.

Emilie: No, it’s tragic. And when Charles inevitably does care, I am going to be so smug about it.

Isabelle: He won’t.

Emilie: He will. And when he finds out from Twitter instead of you, I am going to remind you forever that I was right.

Isabelle: Fine. If he does, I will buy you dinner.

Emilie: And?

Isabelle: And I will admit you were right.

Emilie: Good girl. But first, we need to make sure Max Verstappen is absolutely floored when he sees you tonight. Let’s pick out your dress.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: HELP.

Max: I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Max: I’m serious, Vic. This is important.

Victoria: It’s one date.

Max: Exactly! First impressions matter. What if I wear something stupid?

Victoria: You wear team merch 90% of the time, so that’s a real possibility.

Max: NOT HELPING.

Victoria: Okay, okay. Where are you taking her?

Max: Nice restaurant. Fancy-ish but not too fancy.

Victoria: Alright. Dark jeans, nice shirt, jacket. Clean shoes.

Max: That’s it???

Victoria: Yes, you’re not walking a red carpet, Max.

Max: What if she thinks it’s boring?

Victoria: If she’s going out with you, she probably already knows you’re a little fashion-challenged.

Max: Wow.

Victoria: I’m just saying, if she agreed to a date, she clearly likes you. Just wear something that fits and isn’t Red Bull merch.

Max: I feel like you’re underestimating the stress of this situation.

Victoria: I feel like you’re underestimating the fact that she already said yes.

Max: …Good point.

Victoria: Obviously. Now go find a shirt that isn’t a team polo and try not to overthink it.

Max: No promises.

Victoria: You’re impossible.

Max: And yet, you still love me.

Victoria: Unfortunately. Now go. And don’t text me from the restaurant freaking out.

Max: No guarantees.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Well????

Isabelle: Well, what?

Emilie: Isabelle. Do not play dumb with me. How did the date go??

Isabelle: …It was really nice.

Emilie: THAT’S ALL YOU’RE GIVING ME?

Emilie: I want DETAILS. Did he show up looking stupidly handsome? Was he nice? Did he make you laugh? Did you kiss him??

Isabelle: Yes, yes, yes, and Yes.

Emilie: YES??

​��Isabelle: I kissed him.

Emilie: !!!!!

Emilie: Details. Now.

Isabelle: It was after our date. He walked me to my door, and I just… kissed him.

Emilie: You just kissed him?? Who are you and what have you done with my overthinking best friend??

Isabelle: Shut up. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.

Emilie: And???

Isabelle: And then he kissed me back.

Emilie: …That better not be the end of the story.

Isabelle: It was soft. And slow. And he cupped my face like I was something precious.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Emilie: Isabelle, my love. My dearest best friend.

Emilie: You’re done for.

Isabelle: … I know.

Emilie: And how did he look after?

Isabelle: Like he was trying very hard not to kiss me again.

Emilie: Oh, you’re so doomed.

Isabelle: I know.

Emilie: Tell me everything.

Isabelle: He was already at the restaurant when I got there, which was sweet. He pulled out my chair for me. He was nervous, which was insane to me because, you know, he’s Max Verstappen.

Emilie: Boy has driven through Eau Rouge at full speed, but a girl makes him nervous. I love this.

Isabelle: He kept looking at me like I was the most interesting person in the world. Like he actually wanted to hear everything I had to say.

Emilie: I love him already.

Isabelle: You love him?? Emilie, I might actually be in trouble here.

Emilie: Uh oh.

Isabelle: …He sent me flowers.

Emilie: WHAT.

Emilie: When???

Isabelle: They just got delivered.

Emilie: EXCUSE ME.

Emilie: You go on ONE date with Max Verstappen and wake up to FLOWERS???

Isabelle: Apparently.

Emilie: What kind?

Isabelle: Peonies.

Emilie: Belle.

Emilie: He is so in love with you.

Isabelle: It was one date.

Emilie: AND???

Emilie: The man sent you flowers the morning after like he’s starring in a romance novel.

Isabelle: Maybe he just does that?

Emilie: Girl. Be serious.

Emilie: Did he say anything with them?

Isabelle: There was a note.

Emilie: AND???

Isabelle: It just says ‘Last night was perfect. Can’t wait to see you again. – Max’

Emilie: I’M GONNA SCREAM.

Emilie: Max Verstappen is courting you.

Isabelle: Courting is a strong word.

Emilie: He sent you flowers. He is so gone for you.

Isabelle: …Maybe.

Emilie: So… second date?

Isabelle: Saturday.

Emilie: GIRL.

Isabelle: I know.

***

Isabelle Leclerc’s Instagram Post

Comments:

@/emilie_abadie: 👀👀👀

@/F1GossipQueen: That’s a very ‘I have a thoughtful boyfriend’ kind of flower arrangement.

↳@/paddockprincessx: Soft launch era????

@/leclercsiblingtea: If Charles doesn’t know who sent these, I need his live reaction immediately.

↳@/monacogossip: Why do I feel like this is someone wildly unexpected?

↳@/redbullsimpclub: Place your bets now, I’m saying it’s a paddock guy.

↳@/f1shenanigans: If this is from an F1 driver, I am losing my mind.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.

Isabelle: And for yesterday. I had a really nice time.

Max: I’m glad you liked them. 

Max: What’s your favorite flower? For next time.

Isabelle: Snowdrops.

Max: Snowdrops?

Isabelle: Yes?

Max: I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone whose favorite flower is snowdrops.

Isabelle: That’s a shame. They’re beautiful. And they bloom in the cold, when nothing else does.

Max : Like you, then.

Isabelle: …Are you trying to be charming, Max Verstappen?

Max: Is it working?

Isabelle: Maybe.

Max: Good.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Sophie: So… Victoria told me something interesting.

Max: She needs a new hobby.

Sophie: Max.

Max: What?

Sophie: Are you in love?

Max: …Maybe.

Sophie: After one conversation?

Max: No! After two conversations.

Sophie: Oh, well, that’s much more reasonable.

Max: Mom.

Sophie: Max.

Max: Look, I just know that it’s different. I’ve never felt like this before.

Sophie: That’s a big thing to say.

Max: I know. But I can’t explain it. It just makes sense.

Sophie: So how did the date go?

Max: …It was perfect.

Sophie: Now we’re getting somewhere.

Max: She’s funny, she’s smart, she actually listens when I talk about racing—like, really listens. And she doesn’t care about the other stuff. The money, the fame. None of it. She just likes me.

Sophie: That’s important.

Max: I know.

Sophie: So when do I get to meet her?

Max: When she doesn’t think I’m a crazy person for how fast I’m falling for her.

Sophie: I hate to break it to you, Max, but you bought a penthouse because her firm is working on it.

Max: …

Sophie: That’s what I thought.

Max: It’s a very nice penthouse.

Sophie: Of course it is.

Max: So you’re not going to say I’m insane?

Sophie: Oh, you are insane. But you’re also my son. And if this makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.

Max: Thanks, Mom.

Sophie: Now tell me, do I need to start planning a wedding?

Max: Goodbye.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

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

Arthur: Dinner at Maman’s, Saturday, usual time?

Charles: Yeah, I’ll be there.

Lorenzo: Me too.

Isabelle: I can’t make it, I’m busy.

Arthur: What’s Maman making?

Charles: Probably something with pasta.

Lorenzo: Didn’t she say something about lamb last time?

Arthur: Oh yeah, I think so.

Isabelle: Have fun!

Charles: See you all Saturday.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey, if I were to ask for date advice, purely hypothetically…

Victoria: Oh my God.

Max: What?

Victoria: You NEVER ask for advice. This must be serious.

Max: It’s not that serious.

Victoria: You literally bought an apartment because of this girl.

Max: …That’s unrelated.

Victoria: Sure it is.

Max: So… hypothetically… if I needed some guidance, what would you suggest?

Victoria: Are you actually asking for advice, or are you just hoping I’ll make it easier for you by giving you a list of things not to do?

Max: ...

Victoria: That’s what I thought. Give me a second.

Victoria: Okay, here’s your DO NOT list:

Do not talk about tire degradation.

Do not mention iRacing, no matter how good your last stint was.

Do not wear a Red Bull hoodie.

Do not check F1 news during the date.

Do not turn the date into a competition.

Do not text me mid-date if you panic. Figure it out.

Do not propose.

Max: …That last one was unnecessary.

Victoria: I’m just covering all bases.

Max: I wasn’t going to propose.

Victoria: Good. Then this should be easy for you.

Max: The Red Bull hoodie rule feels unfair.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Fine. No Red Bull hoodie.

Victoria: Thank you.

Max: …Can I at least wear the cap?

Victoria: Max.

Max: Alright, alright. No cap.

Victoria: Proud of you. Now, go be normal.

Max: No promises.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Hypothetically. If you were taking someone on a second date. What would you do?

GP: …Why are you asking me?

Max: Because you’re married!

GP: And?

Max: That means you’ve successfully dated someone.

GP: That does not make me a dating expert.

GP: Also, since when do you ask me for relationship advice?

GP: Who is she?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max:

GP: MAX.

GP: WHO IS IT.

Max: Isabelle.

GP: Isabelle who?

Max: …Leclerc.

GP:

GP: MAX.

GP: CHARLES LECLERC’S SISTER?!?!?!?!?

Max: Yeah, she doesn’t really like being called that.

GP: MAX.

GP: DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?

Max: Not particularly.

GP: HOW DID THIS HAPPEN.

Max: I met her.

GP: OBVIOUSLY.

GP: Where?! When?! How long has this been going on?!

Max:  A few days.

GP: And Charles doesn’t know???

Max: I don’t think he notices much about her.

GP: Okay, that’s a whole other issue, but back to you.

GP: Do you have any self-preservation instincts?

Max: She’s nice. I like her.

GP: THAT IS NOT THE POINT.

GP: Do you realize the incident this could cause?

Max: If I wanted overreactions, I’d have texted Victoria.

GP: I AM REACTING APPROPRIATELY.

GP: What does Victoria think?

Max: She said, "You deserve to be loved."

GP: …Well, that’s suspiciously sentimental.

GP: But also, Charles is still going to kill you.

Max: You’re being dramatic.

GP: AM I?

Max: Are you helping or not?

GP: I AM TOO BUSY PROCESSING YOUR TERRIBLE LIFE CHOICES.

GP: Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Let’s focus.

GP: You need a second date idea.

GP: That does not result in Charles Leclerc murdering you.

Max: I think you’re overestimating how much he pays attention to her.

GP: That’s between them. I am concerned for you.

Max: You’re being dramatic again.

GP: No, I’m being realistic.

Max: …I’ll deal with that when it happens.

GP: Unbelievable.

GP: Alright. Date ideas.

GP: What did you do for the first one?

Max: Dinner. Talked a lot.

GP: What does she like?

Max: Horses.

GP: Horses.

GP: You’re dating someone who likes horses.

Max: Yes?

GP: I feel like that’s relevant information I should’ve had sooner.

GP: Have you ever been near a horse, Max?

Max: Not really.

GP: Okay, no horse-related dates yet. You will get yourself killed trying to impress her.

Max: She’d find that funny.

GP: I wouldn’t.

GP: Let’s keep it simple. Somewhere quiet. Private. Where you can talk.

Max: I was thinking that too.

GP: What about a picnic?

Max: A picnic.

GP: Yeah. You get some good food, go somewhere nice, and just relax. No stress.

Max: Where am I supposed to find a picnic spot?

GP: You have a balcony, Max.

GP: You literally have a balcony with a view.

GP: Just set something up there.

Max: …That’s actually not a bad idea.

GP: Wow. Praise from the great Max Verstappen. I’m honored.

Max: Don’t get used to it.

GP: Okay, what kind of food does she like?

Max: She ordered pasta on our first date.

GP: That’s a start. You could order from the same place.

Max: Or I could cook.

GP: You could what?

Max: I can cook, GP.

GP: Since when?

Max: Since I lived alone?

GP: Okay, sure. But can you cook something that won’t poison her?

Max: Wow. Faith in me is at an all-time low.

GP: Just making sure she survives the night.

Max: I’ll make pasta. It’s simple.

GP: Fine. But don’t experiment. Stick to what you know.

Max: What do you think I’m going to do? Try molecular gastronomy?

GP: I wouldn’t put it past you.

GP: Okay, what else… You need drinks. Dessert.

Max: She likes red wine.

GP: Get a good wine, then. And dessert?

Max: She mentioned liking raspberries once.

GP: So get her something with raspberries.

Max: Got it.

GP: And what about ambiance?

Max: …

GP: Max.

Max: What?

GP: Do you even own candles?

Max: …Victoria gave me some once.

GP: Use them.

GP: And put some effort into setting the table.

GP: You know, for someone who acts like they don’t care about romance, you’re actually putting effort into this.

Max: …She’s worth the effort.

GP:

GP: Damn.

GP: Okay.

GP: You have to survive Charles finding out.

Max: I told you. I’ll handle it.

GP: Yeah, yeah. Just keep me updated.

Max: Sure.

GP: And if you need actual advice, ask Victoria.

Max: I did ask Victoria. She just sent me a list of things not to do.

GP: What was on the list?

Max: "Don’t talk about tire degradation. Don’t mention iRacing. Don’t wear a Red Bull hoodie."

GP: Solid advice.

Max: She also said, "Act normal."

GP: That one might be harder for you.

Max: Wow.

GP: Just being honest.

GP: So, do you have everything planned?

Max: Yeah. I think so.

GP: Good. Now all you have to do is not mess it up.

Max: Thanks for the vote of confidence.

GP: Any time.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Soooooo... how was the date?

Isabelle: Good.

Emilie: …That’s it? "Good"? You had dinner with Max Verstappen, a man who has clearly lost his mind over you, and all you have to say is "good"???

Isabelle: Fine. Great. Amazing.

Isabelle: Happy?

Emilie: Better. But I’m gonna need DETAILS.

Isabelle: We had dinner, talked a lot, and then I stayed over.

Emilie:

Emilie: EXCUSE ME???

Emilie: YOU STAYED OVER????

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: As in "I fell asleep on the couch watching a movie and went home in the morning" stayed over, or "I am now intimately familiar with Max Verstappen's bedsheets" stayed over???

Isabelle: …

Emilie: ISABELLE.

Isabelle: Nothing happened. 

Emilie: Oh my god.

Emilie: OH MY GOD.

Isabelle: I swear, nothing happened. It just got late and…

Emilie: This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Isabelle: I’m so glad MY love life is giving you entertainment.

Emilie: You don’t understand. I’ve been waiting for you to have an actual romance for YEARS. YEARS, ISABELLE.

Isabelle: You make it sound like I was living in a cave.

Emilie: Emotionally? Maybe a little.

Isabelle: Rude.

Emilie: True.

Emilie: But seriously. How do you feel?

Isabelle: …I don’t know. It’s weird.

Isabelle: He likes me. Like, really likes me. And I’m not used to that.

Emilie: Then get used to it, babe. Because that man? He’s already gone for you.

Isabelle: You think so?

Emilie: I KNOW so.

Emilie: Now tell me: does he have nice bedsheets, or do I need to stage an intervention?

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

GP: Well???

Max: Well, what?

GP: Don’t play dumb. How did it go?

Max: …

GP: MAX.

Max: It went well.

GP: That’s it? That’s all I get after coaching you through this?

Max: What do you want me to say?

GP: I want details. Did she like the food? Did you talk about tire degradation anyway? Did she laugh about your terrible jokes?

Max: She liked the food. No, I did not mention tire degradation. Rude.

GP: Growth. I’m proud of you.

Max: Thanks.

Max: The cats love her.

GP: …THE CATS?! MAX. That is NOT the update I was looking for.

Max: No, but it’s important. They don’t just like people.

GP: I was expecting romance, maybe a ‘we stayed up talking all night’ or ‘she laughed at all my jokes’—and you’re giving me ‘the cats love her’??!

Max: It means a lot! Jimmy and Sassy were literally fighting for her attention. She was just sitting on the couch, and they both climbed into her lap like she was their owner.

GP: …Okay, I’ll admit, that’s kind of a big deal. You’re in love, aren’t you?

Max: I mean… yeah.

GP: I knew it. The cats knew it. Everyone knew it. Charles is gonna lose his mind.

Max: That’s a problem for future Max.

***

[chaoticallykinkygrem]

Ahem

Hot single dilf James who lives next door to his best friends Remus and Sirius until one day Sirius’s little brother moves in with them to be closer to his college (he’s a grad student studying artsy shit). Regulus has never lived in suburbia before so he takes full advantage of the pool in the backyard. James likes to garden in his backyard.

Regulus notices this and starts to just lounge by the pool hoping the dilf next door will look his way. Of course he pretends to not care though and will be reading or sketching the entire time. Little does he know James is watching him the entire fucking time and finding it harder and harder to not get hard in his pants.

Sirius hosts a party to introduce regulus to all his friends and of course James attends. Regulus knows he would be there so he wears a tight top and pants that hug his ass gorgeously.

James stares at his ass the entire night. Eventually he goes to the kitchen, with the excuse of getting more wine, to try and calm down a little. Regulus of course follows him and starts not so subtly flirting. James doesn’t bite immediately though. No he’s able to leave the house after that party alone but goes home immediately to jerk off to thoughts of regulus’s ass.

James, being old man best friends (they’re like 32) with Sirius, goes to his house all of the fucking time for game nights, poker nights, dinners, and just to hang out. Regulus continues to tease him until James finally breaks when regulus walks past him in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. Showing off his slutty waist and nipple piercings perfectly.

James already had regulus’ phone number (for emergency reasons 😃 (at least that’s the excuse he uses)) so he starts to flirt with him over text. One thing leads to another and they have phone sex.

Eventually Sirius and Remus go on a trip for an anniversary or something and harry is at lilys place so they’re both alone for the weekend. And what else are you supposed to do when your hot neighbor invites you over if not fuck them for two days straight?

I kinda wanna continue this au. Lmk if you’re interested 👀

[allykakamatsu]

TWST Headcanons

Some of these will be more in dept than others, one or two will be AU specific, either way, enjoy~

Ace:

Bi disaster and is in hardcore denial over it

Didn't have any scars coming into NRC but by the time the year was over he had thorn pricks all over him (from the Rose Garden and from OB!Malleus) plus some nasty marks from the STYX guards that never went away.

Nowhere near as bad as Cater, but is afraid of loosing the people he's close to which is why he acts so abrasive.

On that note, post book 7 Cater is 100% is favourite senpai.

Before going to NRC got gifted a pocketwatch by his brother. Mostly not a big deal but in Twisted Hearts it's a big part of the inciting incident.

Deuce:

Also a bi disaster, in slightly less denial about it.

Covered head to toe in scratches and scars due to how many fights he got into during his delinquent days.

Not sure if canon refutes this in any way, but he feels pretty resentful for his dad leaving him and Dylla alone.

After seeing Ace's dream he starts worrying he's a bad friend to Yuu as he wasn't even thinking that much about what would happen when Yuu is eventually allowed to go home.

Trey:

Gay and proud.

Doesn't have many scars but like everyone in Heartslaybul he does have some marks from the rose garden, plus a few burn marks from cooking mishaps.

After an incident with Rook in science club, always carries a spare pair of glasses with him to be safe.

Does not know his dad puns suck ass and no one has the heart to tell him despite the cringe.

Cater:

Bi, though tbh if you're playing the JP side that one's honestly just canon-

Also some flavour of trans but idk which one yet.

Another rose thorn victim, and also has some burn marks from when he had to do the cooking at home and it went wrong.

Has a pretty big crush on Vil (again this one is debatably canon on the JP side if nothing else)

Admittedly I'm borrowing this one from @ladyazurith but due to his clones he was in charge of being everywhere and getting all the manual work done, which is why he was so quick to pawn it on Ace and Deuce during Book 1.

Wants to open up about his issues to his friends but has no idea how, plus there's the fear that he won't see them after NRC anyway, or that they won't like him anymore once he's more honest.

Riddle:

Gay and (somehow) even deeper in denial than Ace is about it.

The one with the least amount of rose thorn scars but still has a few. Also has some very slight burn marks from some reckless fire magic usage.

Also this one is for all the OB bois but some of the ink markings from his Overblot left behind some faint lines that become more visible when he (or any other OB boy) use magic.

Naturally white hair, his mother made him use magic to turn it red, and post book 6 he let's a little bit of the white show.

Not the worst at NRC with this, but has no idea the average price of most things so he has a decent chance of getting scammed.

Post book 1 once he admits he's never had a sleepover among other things Cater immediately drags the group into one. It goes well and Riddle has fun despite some initial awkwardness.

(more underneath cut)

Leona:

Asexual Biromantic. Also some flavour of trans but idk which.

Got his scar from when the rude son of guest visiting the Savannah pushed him while they were playing outside and he hit a rock. Also because of the scar his depth perception is fucked.

Has had to deal with a few assassination attempts and has some scars from it but is somehow not the one with the highest score of those.

Used to date Vil during the stars first year but they broke it off before the year was over. Now they've had some time to cool off (plus Jack and Epel joining NRC who they both care for) they're stuck in will they won't they hell.

Made the day Rook transferred out of Savannahclaw a dorm-wide holiday-

Will never admit it, but has a soft spot for Cheka and kids in general.

Ruggie:

Unlabelled but know he likes dudes.

Has a few nicks due to his thievery back home, but the only scar he bothers to cover up is the mark on his arm he still has after Leona almost killed him, mainly to make sure no one starts treating him like a kicked puppy due to it.

Has vitiligo

Frequently mails canned food he got from Sam as well as cash he stole from Leona's account back home to his Grandma.

Despite the rough start due to Book 2 he and Jamil are besties and meet up at least twice a week to shit talk everyone on campus.

Is not the Vice Housewarden, however no one can remember who Leona actually picked so they kinda just give him all the jobs a vice would have.

Jack:

Bi, also I can't prove it but something not cis is going on with his gender.

Has some nicks cause Savannahclaw has a lot of uneven edges all over the place, however most of his scars come from book 2.

On that note, gets pushed around by the whole dorm a lot in book 2, both figuratively and literally, due to him being the only one who still cared about playing fair. It’s better post Book 2 but he’s still not treated great by his dorm.

Doesn't get to hang out as much as he'd like but is really glad NRC gave him a chance to see Vil again.

Occasionally gets roped into the Diasomnia training due to Sebek offering and him wanting to mix it up.

Azul:

Gay and generfluid but prefers male pronouns.

Aside from the standard OB scars he has some scars from when his classmates back in the Coral Sea were poking him with sharp coral.

An ever so slightly better flier than Jade, or at least can last longer without having a heart attack.

Honest to the Seven just wants to help Jamil out in his own... unique way, the fact that he'd have such a powerful mage in his dorm is honestly just a bonus.

Frequently turns board game club into personal issues venting, much to Idia's dismay.

Jade:

Hasn't thought much about sexuality but he knows he likes guys. Is also generfluid though they don't have a preference.

Not nearly as many as Floyd but still has a lot of scars, including a large and nasty one on his back from when a strong mer attacked him when he was younger.

Part of a mob family and is the one set to take over the family business, a prospect he doesn't hate but would rather have as much fun as he can on land in the meantime.

Had a few more siblings when they were younger, however a group of predators showed up one day and killed most of them. Jade (the only one awake due to him getting a midnight snack) managed to keep himself and Floyd safe but he didn't bother trying to help the others, leading to him watching them all die.

Would rather die than admit it, but is pretty insecure about his UM and it's many limitations and worries that he might get replaced for not being strong enough.

Floyd:

Gay and generfluid, though like Azul he tends to prefer he/him most days.

Head to toe in scars, there's barely a part of him that isn't scratched in some way.

Also forgot to mention this with Jade but the two of them both have their mer cheek stripes showing at all times.

Too young to remember their other siblings and Jade plus their parents never told him so he doesn't know.

Not as down horrendous as Azul but also likes Jamil a lot and wants his sea snake to have nice things.

On that note, his favourite people are the kind that aren't afraid of him and are even not afraid to fight him, which is why he latched onto Riddle so fast after the chaos that was their Opening Ceremony.

Kalim:

Pan, he just loves everyone.

Multiple scars from the assassination attempts, most notably rope burns on his wrists which he usually tries to cover with either long sleeves or jewellery as a distraction.

The one time he tried to go to a therapist for his issues it ended up being an assassin so that scared him off for life.

Once a month after book 4 he goes over to Heartslaybul so Riddle can teach him law so he has more of an idea how to help Jamil and the rest of the Vipers.

Jamil:

Bi with a male preference and Bigender, but you can only call him she if he gave explicit permission (thank @blondeaxolotl for that one)

Hard to tell due to how well he hides them with his magic, but is the only one at NRC who can compete with Floyd and Lilia in the scars amount. Stab wounds, rope burns, marks left by Ruggie making him fall down the stairs, burns from when he was learning to cook, OB scars, you name it Jamil probably has it.

Half snake beastman on his mom's side, all that really shows is a snake tongue and sharper fangs

Major complex over needing to feel needed given that being essential to Kalim was all he had going for him most of his life. Only starts to deal with it and by extension accept Kalim's help after Book 6 when Leona turns their tower trip into a therapy session.

Will never admit it out loud but is warming up to Azul and Floyd (not that he’ll admit it) However while things are a bit better he and Jade still don't get along though, partly cause they spend less time together and partly because they're too similar in a lot of ways.

Never liked Rook much to begin with, but the mild dislike turned to full on salt after VDC. Like, he gets that Vil probably needed some consequences but did he have to drag everyone else down with him?

Vil:

Bi but a male preference and genderfluid, no pronoun preference.

The only scars he had before his OB was one he got when he was 6 and he accidentally cut himself with a knife, and has done everything in his power to hide it.

Not many other kids where he grew up so he didn't have many friends, Jack being his only one for a good while.

Part of him wishes he could meet his mother but doesn't have any regrets about being raised by Eric.

He and Rook are a package deal. If you want to date one, the other is there. Platonic or romantic, RookVil are a pair you do not seperate.

Speaking of Rook though, while Vil knows Rook did the right thing at VDC and he'd probably feel awful if he won after what he did and almost did, the dumb emotional part of his brain was still hurt, though the two patched things up by the end of book 6.

Rook:

Gay, like so gay it almost makes everyone else look straight by comparison. Also idk his gender but he ain't cis.

Has a decent number of hunting scars. Isn't ashamed at all but they're usually covered since they're mostly on his hands and he usually wears gloves.

Half of Savannahclaw has filed a restraining order against him though none have gone through.

Still feels some guilt over book 5 cause he knew how much it hurt Vil plus it got the others caught in the middle but he knew that he couldn't let NRC win after Vil tried to poison Neige.

Vil and Leona's biggest shipper when they were together, low key trying to set them back up now that they're on better terms.

Epel:

Gay and transmasc. Overcompensating masculinity wise big time.

Has a decent few scrapes from the farm, and also has a gap tooth that he doesn't mind but Vil is desperately trying to convince him to go to the dentist to fix with the actor even offered to pay for.

Goes back and forward between thinking Deuce is the coolest or the lamest affectionate. Either way they love talking Blastcycles.

Looks up to Leona a lot, low key horrified to learn that he and Vil somehow used to date.

Was sweating a lot during the Harveston trip as he was worried the group would see his old pictures and figure out he wasn't born a boy, but while the truth didn't come out seeing how well they reacted when they thought Marja's old picture was him did give him a lot of peace of mind.

The one besides Ace who crashes at Ramshackle the most so he can get a break from Pomfiore.

Idia:

Asexual and demiromantic. Also some flavour of trans but idk which

Has a few burn scars, some from the obvious source and others from wires sparking while he tried to fix something.

Actually descended from Hades, he and his parents are just hesitant to admit it due to the inevitable multiple follow up questions.

Addicted to this worlds version of Project Sekai. Do I have any evidence besides vibes? No but I still believe it-

After a few too many near death experiences calls he's just started making prosthetic limbs just in case he needs to replace something, and even if he never needs them he can just use them for Ortho when he's ready for a size upgrade.

Ortho:

Has only just gained sentience and doesn't really care about romance or gender rn

No real scars cause well, robot, though he does let the first years have some fun and do marker graffiti on him sometimes.

Has all of OG!Ortho's memories, and while he knows it's silly he still finds himself dealing with imposter syndrome a fair bit.

Has figured out that everyone thinks anything rude he says is unintentional, and uses this to occasionally back talk people who make him mad and get away with it.

Malleus:

His type is anyone who likes him back and he barely knows what gender is.

Doesn't really have any scars on him prior to loosing his horn during book 7. The people close to him on the other hand...

Due to them both being in one man clubs whenever cross club competitions arise Crowley usually pairs Malleus and Jade together, leading to a surprising friendship between the two.

To some people (Leona's) annoyance, post horn breaking he's still plenty powerful, just not god level like he used to be.

Speaking of Leona. They dated. It was only for a week as Leona was rebounding hard after Vil, it was messy, both of them regret it, but it happened, though Mal is open to trying again.

Also a surprisingly good cook, if only to keep Silver alive until he learned how.

Lilia:

Bi and polyamorous. Also doesn't give a fuck about gender.

Probably the most scared one at NRC for obvious reasons, man is covered in stab wounds as well as lightning scars from both Melanor and Malleus.

Speaking of Melanor, the two of them along with Levan/Raverne were all dating though the royal couple made sure the senate didn;t find out about Lilia.

Genuinely oblivious to how awful his cooking is. He managed to raise Silver without him dying so how bad can it be? (Silver has an iron stomach as well as Malleus saving him)

Silver:

Demi. Thinks he's cis but is open to experiment.

Has a few scratches and bruises from his training but nothing too major.

Post book 7 he briefly experiments with dying a streak of his hair blonde but quickly gives up on that idea and just goes back to no dye, or if he does want to dye he goes black like Lilia and Malleus.

Loves singing. Wanted to audition for VDC but didn't want to risk screwing it up by falling asleep mid song.

Forgot to mention with Kalim but those two are pure lights. More so relevant for Twisted Hearts but in cannon it means they're less likely to Overblot and blots tend to keep their distance.

Sebek:

Doesn't really have a label for it but he knows he likes guys.

Like Silver just has a few training nicks though he has a few more due to being more reckless.

One time nearly had a heart attack and destroyed half the dorm looking for his Malleus painting, only to find out that Lilia just took it to clean the frame. Afterwards Sebek cleaned up and sent himself to detention out of shame-

Due to his dad being a dentist he has some of the best dental hygiene on campus and knows a lot about teeth, leading to a surprise friendship with Trey.

Eventually remembers the events of NBC Lost in the book, but whether that's because he finds Skully's painting, meeting his ghost at Ramshackle or actually sees his friend in person again depends on the setting and how I'm feeling.

Masterpost

Buy me a Coffee

Commission Prices

[hedwig221b]

Hi, If it's not a bother, could you recommend me some sterel fics with void stiles at some point in the fic? Please and thank you ❤️

Hello! Hope you like these ones!

Shadow and Flame by pixieblade

"Get. Away. From. Him.” The teen said harshly. Derek watched bemusedly as Stiles stalked across the loft. His wooden bat dragging along behind him. It made a scratchthumpscrape sound that was almost mesmerizing. Alternative nogitsune/darach meeting. Pre-slash Sterek.

Unexpected Results by pixieblade

What do you do when the people you are supposed to trust, betray you in the worst possible way? What would you do if someone offered you a way out?

Full and Void

Stiles could be meek, sure. In Derek’s arms, softened under the touch, pinned under his weight. He allowed himself to relax only in Derek’s sole presence. Stiles could also look meek. Small, scared. Let the enemies think he was hiding in his mate’s shadow. After all, no one would stop to think that the shadow could ever be dangerous.

Emerald Eyed Mystery by QueenOfAngst21

It's been two months but the Void won't go away. With his brother turning against him and with no where else to turn, Stiles looks to the place he least expected. If Beacon Hills is destroying him then when better to run away then at 1am on a Thursday. Three years later, with the fate of Supernatural world on their shoulders they must return but Stiles isn't defenceless anymore. He's an Alpha Mate and his eyes aren't normal; they are emerald.

Words Alone by SnowshadowAO3

Derek gets the first text message two months after he leaves Beacon Hills. He stares at it for a long time without actually opening it up, trying to figure out why Stiles would be texting him at all. Things start fitting together in Derek’s mind: his dreams, the door he sees Stiles enter, the loss of memory. Stiles’ body, his mind, are no longer just his. Something is sharing it, controlling him. Derek doesn’t know what it is yet, but he’s damn well going to find out. In which the Nogitsune ordeal brings Derek running back to Beacon Hills and, in the end, to Stiles.

Voice of Rage and Ruin by Qayin

Derek is hired as a bodyguard to this kid, Stiles. And the thing is, Stiles seems completely harmless, but everyone keeps telling Derek how he needs to be careful. Stiles is a nogitsune, a human possessed by a powerful deity of chaos and void, and not only does other people want him for his power, but he could potentially hurt others; and then it’s Derek’s job to protect those people — from his client.

Echo of the Void by MissAnnThropic

Post season 3B. After defeating the nogitsune, Stiles takes steps to ensure the demon fox can never possess him again. When things don’t go according to plan, Scott calls Derek to come try and calm Stiles down.

Ready or Not by spaceprincessem

Ready or not here I come “Is it him?” The man whispered to the woman standing next to him, a gleeful smile on his face. “Is that-” “Void?” Stiles asked. Derek took a shuddering breath. Stiles no longer sounded broken or pleading. His tone was cold, cruel, calculating. “Void.” The woman repeated with a small nod of her head. Stiles' smirk widened now, “That’s what you wanted, right?”

i'm here in search of your glory by EvanesDust, spaceprincessem

And standing there, in the dim light of the office was the all powerful emissary whose name had been whispered across the country. The one who could move mountains and part oceans. The one they all called Void. Standing there was Stiles fucking Stilinski. There were so many things Derek wanted to say - needed to say - and Stiles arched an eyebrow, like he was waiting, like he fucking knew. Derek opened his mouth, but the only thing that came out was, “Are you fucking kidding me.”

Together Again by Firebull

When Scott pushed Stiles out of the pack, he unwittingly unleashes the Nogitsune once more. Not that it lets him live long enough to tell anyone about it. Too bad really, because it has plans for a certain werewolf currently living in Mexico.

We are the greatest pretenders by heyshalina, marshmallowfluff

(How am I gonna get myself back home?) Derek wishes Scott wasn't such a failure of an alpha, that he had noticed the aura of darkness around Stiles before Derek had. Maybe then, it would be Scott now, staring into Stiles' empty eyes, at his twisted smile, faced with the prospect of killing him. "You know, I never wanted to be anything other than human."

Other fic recs: angsty fics | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious!Stiles | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic

[smilesrobotlover]

A super out of context thing for Edmund’s brothers. Basically something happened with the second-born Charles and the brothers all split on what they wanted to do. Ares, Louis, and Dante on one side, and Silas, Matthias, and Edmund on the other, while our unbothered chill guy Maximus not taking a side cuz he doesn’t gaf lol.

I’m gonna be so honest, I know nobody cares about these characters who aren’t even in my fanfic, but I really like them. I’m very proud of the designs (at least faces) and personalities, so safe to say I like them a lot 😔

Some info on the brothers for the 5 people that care

Ares is the first born, and is 43 during Love at Twilight. He’s the crowned prince and is the “golden child”. He thinks very highly of himself, and is very aware of the reputation he must uphold. But he does a VERY good job at upholding the reputation. He’s the golden child after all! A perfect prince! He actually loves his family a lot, caring deeply for his parents and his younger brother Charles. But the other brothers are sorta ignored by him. He’s more focused on taking over the kingdom anyhow. Which honestly makes him come off as aloof.

Charles is the second born, 42 during Love at Twilight, and feels like the failure to his parents. He gets second everything, always in his older brother’s shadow. He doesn’t feel like he can amount to anything, even with his younger brothers, he can’t seem to be special like them. Ares loves him, but Charles deep down resents him and everyone else in the family. But cuz he’s nothing compared to everyone else, nobody really cares. He’s just kinda there, and he’s frustrated about this. When Zelda enters the family, he really takes his frustrations out on her, cuz even tho she’s queen, she’s just a woman, right?

Silas is the black sheep of the family. Aged 40 during LaT. Many believe him to be a child born from a different father, and many hate him for it. He doesn’t deserve to be apart of the royal family, he clearly doesn’t belong! Because of this, he comes off as cold and avoids the others, not really bothering to reach out to the others. But he actually is quite smart and has a good moral compass, being very dependable when he needs to be. Quite underrated if you ask me. The queen defends Silas constantly, saying that he is of royal blood and she was never disloyal.

Maximus, Age 36, was born way later because the king and queen had a lot of issues with Silas. He’s a very aloof guy who never takes charge, letting things run their course which makes him chill and also very indecisive, which is no good. I don’t have much on him but he’s very neutral on things a lot, which can be good, can be bad.

Louis, age 34, had become the high priest of Labrynna and is EXTREMELY self righteous. He constantly condemns others and preaches repentance, however he has a lot of skeletons in his closet, he just believes that as the high priest, he’s perfectly fine. A bit of a… bad fella, probably the worst on this list, because he doesn’t come off as bad, which makes him extremely manipulative. Of course, he doesn’t think he’s being manipulative. You just don’t want to see him snap and lose it. I might make him narcissistic but I don’t know enough about that to feel confident in writing it, and people just throw the term around with no issues so… we’ll see? But he’s a very fascinating character to me.

Matthias, age 32, is a very caring soul who really looks out for the youngest brother, Edmund. He wants to watch over and care for the “little guy” and is deeply loyal to those around him. He doesn’t seem to like Charles all that much, and the two argue constantly. Other than that, he gets along with everyone and serves his kingdom in whatever way he can. He seems to be the only one in a genuinely loving relationship with his wife.

Dante is a very materialistic, greedy, and prideful man. Age 30, Dante is highly confident in himself and looks down on others, believing them to be below him. Even his older brothers he finds to be foolish, though he’s a bit of a yes man to Ares. I also don’t have much of him but yeah. A guy.

And ofc our guy Edmund! Age 28.You kinda know him. He’s known as the smallest and weakest brother, having severe asthma, so he can’t do things the others can do. He was also very sickly as a child, hence why Matthias is so protective of him. But he makes up for it with his wit and unique ways to be strong. He’s very pompous tho, and I like him a lot.

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Marked (MOC Dean x female reader)

Chapter 2 - Bubbles

Read it on AO3

Mark of Dean series master list

18+. 9.8k words. Explicit sexual content. Some graphic violence. Dubious consent. Unhealthy relationships. Age gap. Sad ending.

You hum along to the music while you look out the window as the landscape roars past. It's flat land out there, farmland, not particularly pretty. Not young and open and fertile like you.

Dean clears his throat, shifts in his seat as he tears his eyes away from your reflection in the rearview mirror, back to the road. Fertile? Jesus Christ, where the fuck did that come from?

Sam has his head lowered in the passenger seat, laptop on his legs. Dean has half a mind to tell him to stop looking at it or he'll get car sick, an old instinct from when Sammy used to get nauseous when it was still John in the driver's seat, Dean in the passenger and his little brother in the back, usually his nose in a book. A long time ago.

Instead, now it's you and Castiel sitting back there. Castiel is looking out the other window, not helping the family on a road trip energy floating around the car. No road trip’s complete without some underlying tension.

Let's see. There's Cas and Sam, who can't get out of Dean's ass for even a second about the Mark and its consequences and their but are you really sure you're okay, Dean? Deep down he knows they are genuinely worried, but when they talk to him that way it makes hot, tantrum-inducing irritation shoot up Dean's spine.

Adding to that, Sam and Cas have, through their shared worry about Dean, formed some kind of best-friends-forever bond. It used to be that Castiel was Dean's buddy, his guardian angel, and while he didn't like that he and Sam never found that kind of closeness, now that they have, he feels awfully on the outside.

He doesn't like it. He hates it actually. Being on the outside of anything makes him feel desperate, lonely, almost immediately. Angry, too, and that might be the Mark, but it's difficult to tell. More difficult than Dean would like to admit, than he has admitted.

And then there's you, of course. Because every friend group needs a couple of dirty secrets, and apparently, you're his. Or he's yours. Something like that.

You seem to be doing absolutely fine, though, because you are, as previously observed, humming. You broke things off with Dean earlier today, as much as there was something to break off, and you said it could never happen again.

And you're fucking humming.

Dean's hand on the steering wheel tightens. He's not mad at you, not really. Well, he is, but there's more that he feels. He still can't look at you without immediately being very aware of what his cock is doing. He cares for you, he really does, always has. He used to be your friend. Can he still be that?

Fuck no, he thinks, shifting again. Never mind whether he can be, he doesn't want to be that. Not that he never appreciated it, he really did. Always thought you were a cute little thing, caught himself feeling almost regretful that you weren't ten years older when he met you, at least halving the difference in years between you, making him feel like not quite such a dirty, old man.

So friend it was, but not because that's who he wanted to be, but because that was the only option. He doesn't want it to sound like he doesn't appreciate you, he doesn't want something else, just something on top of that, him on top of you, soft thighs pressed high on his side, tight pussy taking h–

No, this is exactly the kind of shit he needs to stop. He feels tension low in his stomach. He has half a mind to pull Baby over, drag you out and fuck you right on the hood of the car. You'd like that, he's sure. Would try to find something to hold on to while his thrusts shove you back and forth. Maybe you'd make that sound you made that night. The one that sounds like you're in ecstasy.

Jesus, Dean thinks, runs his hand over his face. Jesus goddamn fucking Christ, he needs to focus. He has a plan after all. It's gonna take a few things to put in place, but he can manage that. He throws you another look in the rearview mirror. And you catch him. Smile at him. The sweetest, loveliest smile he's ever seen.

Maybe he shouldn't do it. It's not a nice plan. But he doesn't know what else to do. He wants what he wants, and he doesn't see why he should deny himself. It's the only fucking thing he ever does, is deny himself. Sure, he has the impulse control of a toddler, but all those things, food, booze, women, they're all just gun powder poured into an open wound, set alight to shut the gash, but never to close it, heal it. He's never wanted anything as much as you.

He looks out the front, and when he glances back, you're looking out the window again. Is this love? he wonders. He's not sure. He loves you, definitely, but is he in love with you? He wants you, he knows that. But is that enough?

His free hand goes to his arm, absent-mindedly, and scratches there. It makes him flinch and he looks down.

He was scratching at the Mark. He can't see it because of the jacket he's wearing, but he knows exactly where it is. Dragging his fingernails along the fabric resting over it. Sweet relief of a constant pain.

That's what fucking you felt like. Like reaching that spot that has been bothering you for an hour and raking your fingers over it. Something so good it makes you close your eyes. His brain was quiet, afterwards. And during it, well…

He was concentrated on you. Mesmerized, more like it. He's never felt that kind of arousal, of lust, that kind of relief. It nearly made him go cross-eyed, that's how good it was. It was the kind of fucking that you hope to find once in your life, and then compare every single encounter ever against. It was like his first blowjob and that time he fucked those twins and washing down the best burger in the world with a long sip of cold beer and when Baby kicks a little when he accelerates and the soft way a knife goes into a bad guy's neck and a hot shower on a cold day, but all rolled into one.

Surely it was the same for you? You were there with him, right?

Surely that must mean something?

You arrive at the motel, check in, one room - it used to be one for Sam and Dean, practiced in sharing, one for you, because, well, Sam and Dean could be a little old fashioned and boys and girls don’t go in the same room seems to be something they have picked up and run with.

You used to say it’s a waste of money, since all you would do is sleep. You always hung out together until just before getting ready for bed anyway, and you repeatedly told them you didn’t mind if they farted at night. Dean laughed at that, and eventually, they agreed to share one room with you. You’d insist on sleeping on the couch, being the shortest out of the bunch, would roll up, always wait until they were asleep, which with both of them could take a long time. But it was always worth it, to hear their slow breathing in the room with you. It lulled you in like nothing else could.

But right now, you’re not sure if sharing is such a good idea.

Dean’s been strange since you told him that you’re not gonna sleep with him again. Which is fair. Are you kind of relieved that he does care? That he didn’t take it in stride? Yes, of course. You’re only human. The fact that he seems hurt, is quiet… You don’t want him to feel even a second of pain, but of course it tugs at your heart. Dean wants you. He really wants you. Not that it matters, now. But it makes it all deliciously harder.

Still, you feel strangely fresh and optimistic. Not at the choice itself, but at least at the fact that a choice has been made. It was in your hands, all of it, and now it is out of them. You can’t help but feel a little lighter.

Plus maybe, just maybe, things will go back to the way they were. With you pining for Dean in secret, and him treating you like a kid, or a little sister. All flirting platonic and meaningless to him, just kindness, but driving you so wild you could have screamed. Needing to play the adult feels good right now, but you wish to go back to that status of the one that needs protecting, the one that needs looking after. It’s not an easy wish to accept, sometimes, but you’ve learned not to shame yourself for it. You’ve been strong so often. It’s okay to want to be cared for.

Dean stretches when he gets out of the car, eyes narrowed, slightly frowning. You catch yourself staring at him, marveling at him. It’s like everything before this was just a fever dream, the chasing, the wanting, the not knowing. Now you see him. You had sex with this man. He wants you. This man. Pride swells your chest, just a touch of shame at the pride following right after.

You drop your bag near the couch, then move to the table, where Sam is already spreading out. You lean on it just as Dean and Cas walk in with the rest of the luggage.

“Should I get us some coffee?” you ask and Sam looks up, smiles, is about to open his mouth but Dean interjects.

“Cas and I are gonna head out and interview some witnesses,” he says, kneeling down to open his own duffel. “You two should focus on research.” You nod. It’s strangely reasonable. You look towards Cas.

“Remember to tell them you work for the FBI this time,” you say with a smile, “not the FCA again.” Castiel gives an embarrassed huff.

“It’s a lot of letters,” he says, then frowns. “I find acronyms confusing.”

But you’re already not listening. After your comment, you looked at Dean, hoping he’d laugh with you. You love Cas, but teasing him together with Dean, lovingly, is one of your favorite past times. You miss it. You miss Dean. In so many ways, even though he’s right there.

But he’s not smiling. He’s not even listening, you’re pretty sure. He’s just straightening, shoving a hand into the back pocket of his jeans, looking down at the table you’ve all gathered around. He looks sad. Distracted, deep in thought, and sad. Could it be? Could it be because of you? Do you have this kind of power? You're sure Dean doesn't have a lot of practice being rejected, at least not by women he sees as sexual conquests. By everyone else? Maybe.

“Sheriff’s office is only twenty minutes away,” Dean now says, completely ignoring the previous exchange. “Let’s go.”

You drop into one of the chairs once the other two men have left, reach for the nearest book, open it at a random page. Try to ignore the lump in your throat.

Focus. It’s what Dean needs. It’s a good distraction. He just needs to keep it up. A few more hours. A few more hours, and you should be back in his arms.

And it’s not like he isn’t gonna have fun in the meantime.

It’s the fifth door he and Cas are knocking on. Dean gets out of the car, hand going to his wrist, tugging at his shirt, then straightening the jacket of his suit. He feels the Mark rub against the fabric of his shirt.

Sometimes, it’s so quiet. Sometimes, it’s just there, humming away, kind of like you were in the car. But sometimes it irritates him, itches. Feels like arm hair caught on a zipper. And sometimes it screams.

More importantly, sometimes he knows it’s the Mark revving him up. He understands that the things he feels are amplified by it. But the thing is, it’s still just him. Still all the stuff he’s just buried in himself. That’s what Sam and Cas don’t understand. The Mark isn’t changing him. It has made him louder. Clearer. Like a radio finally tuned to the right frequency.

The door is opened by the witness, an attractive woman in her late thirties - Dean’s age, he has to keep reminding himself. He doesn’t feel it. It always surprises him.

He flirts with her a little, playfully rolls his eyes at Castiel being awkward, rather than play over it. She gives him a suggestive smile. Cute, but not what he’s looking for. She’d make him take her out, dinner, maybe a movie. A second date before she’d even allow him to push his hand under her shirt. That’s not what he needs.

He needs quick, he needs dirty, he needs immediate. He’s simple like that.

When they leave the house, walk down the front steps, Dean looks at his watch. The gesture is for show, since he already saw the time inside, on some ugly grandfather clock that he hopes to hell was an heirloom. Seven in the evening. Perfect. He slaps his hands together, rubs them against each other.

“Maybe we should start thinking about dinner,” he says, turning to Cas. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants and grins. “Don’t tell me you’re not starving.”

Castiel gives him what for the angel passes as a sarcastic look. Hardy fucking har har. He sighs, which is the one human habit Cas seems to have perfected.

“It looks like none of the witnesses have seen anything that could help us,” Cas muses, “so I suppose this is a good time to take a break.” Dean nods for extra emphasis, rolls his shoulders.

“Could use a drink,” he mumbles, looking down the street.

It lands. It lands so perfectly it’s almost ridiculous. Just goes to show he knows Cas. Maybe better than he knows himself.

“Yes,” Cas says, his face changing into a friendly expression even as he says the word. “We should grab a beer. I can’t technically get drunk anymore, but I enjoy the camaraderie of it.”

Dean turns to his friend. For just a second, he feels guilty. Cas wants to get a drink with him. Yeah, he probably wants to talk about his feelings - Dean’s, not Castiel’s - and ask him if he’s really, truthfully, pinkie promise can’t tell a lie honest to God okay. But the point still stands. Luckily, Dean shakes himself out of the guilt immediately. He’s good at that. So he throws the angel a smile.

“I consider that a personal challenge,” he says and Cas now smiles genuinely, his entire face lighting up.

So Dean will get Cas a drink. And then he will take care of everything else.

You’re pulling on your jacket while Sam explains his salad order to you.

“Samuel,” you say, suppressing a grin, “I have bought food for us about a million trajillion times. I know what you like.” Sam drops his hands on the table, then chuckles. God, it feels good, this lightness. Joking with Sam. You know it’s only been less than two weeks since things have changed so drastically, but it feels like an eternity.

“Alright,” he says, admitting defeat, “but to be fair, I need to explain it to Cas and Dean every time, so it’s just kind of a habit.” You shrug.

“Guess I’m the best of all of us,” you say with a heavy sarcastic inflection, making Sam grin, lay his hand over his heart.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” he says and you laugh, grab your phone off the table and then walk outside.

You don’t have a second car, and the fast food place is a little bit away, but you don’t mind. The evening is mild, even though darkness has fallen a while ago, and you’ve been cooped up all afternoon in the motel room. You take a deep breath. It’s mostly exhaust fumes, but still, it’s nice. It’s a good walk. You swear to yourself to try to go on more of them.

When you get to the restaurant, you study the menu while you stand in line. The chain’s mascot - a beaver in overalls, for some reason - is screaming at you to get a Chippy Choc Chocolate Shake. It’s cute, but not what you’re in the mood for. You make it to the front of the line and order.

Chicken sandwich for you. Salad shaker with a light dressing for Sam. Cas doesn’t need nutrients, but you get him a small Coke, cause you know he likes the bubbles. For Dean, you go all out: double bacon burger, extra pickles, extra onion, and at the last second, you get him an order of the Dam’ Good Fries. You chuckle at the name.

Your arms are full as you walk back. The food will probably be cold by the time you get back, but it’s not like any of you have the highest culinary standards.

You’re halfway back when your phone vibrates. Balancing some of the food against your body, you pull it out of your pocket. It’s a message from Sam.

Dean and Cas found another witness to interview, just down the road. Just got there but will be back before dinner, oh Queen of the Salads.

The emojis he picked are random, but you think they’re salad-inspired, and then a crown at the end. What an absolute doofus, you think as you push the phone back into your pocket with a smile.

When you reach the motel, you need to balance the food again to grab your key. You push it into the lock and then shoulder your way in.

Your first thought is that Sam must have left the TV on, and your second thought is that that’s very unlikely, since Sam rarely watches anything but the news, and he never watches them on regular TV, because the ads annoy him. He’s also not the type to leave the TV on. So it’s all around weird.

You need to turn when you enter the room since due to the stuff you’re carrying you walked in sideways. When you do, you freeze on the spot.

It’s not the TV. It’s Dean. It’s Dean and he’s not alone.

He’s standing behind the second bed, facing you. You see the anti-possession tattoo on his chest, and then your brain catches up that he needs to be shirtless for that to work. Except he’s not just shirtless, he’s naked.

There’s a woman on the bed. You’ve never seen her before. Later, all you’ll remember about her is that she has dark hair, that her head is hanging off the side of the bed and that her legs are pulled up so that Dean can fuck her the way he’s fucking her.

She’s gasping and moaning and grunting deep in her throat. You’re not sure if she registers that someone has come in. But Dean does. He does immediately.

He looks up. He’s panting and his hips are snapping forwards and backwards while he fucks the woman under him. You can see his cock gliding in and out of her, but only the root, because of the angle. You realize all of this as abstractly as if it isn’t happening to you but to someone else.

When you look away from Dean’s magically disappearing and reappearing cock, you look up at his face. He’s looking straight at you. His lips are parted and you think a smile is tugging at one corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, then groans, briefly looking down at the woman’s breasts, then up again. “Had to get somewhere fast, was kind of an emergen– oh fuck, that’s it, baby.” His head drops down again, as he keeps fucking. The woman still hasn’t really reacted, but just then, she opens her eyes, focuses on you, though she seems to have a hard time with it.

“Who the fuck are you?” she slurs, making no attempt to stop Dean or get him off her.

Indeed. Who the fuck are you?

The food and drink drops from your arms without you meaning to. The strength to hold them simply leaves you. The lid on the Coke opens, the liquid inside going everywhere. It might as well be happening on a different planet.

You turn around, rush outside. You just have the wherewithal to pull the door shut behind you, and immediately you curse yourself for it. Still being so fucking considerate.

The pain is so immediate, it shocks you. It’s crawling into your throat, like panic, as you rush across the parking lot, without a goal, except for away. Away from Dean, from what you saw.

Your breath is coming fast, but the tears are faster. Without meaning to, a sound leaves you just as you turn the corner off the lot. You’re just there enough still to realize you’re walking back into the direction of the fast food place, so you turn around, because that way are people. The other way is better, even though you have no idea what that way is.

It doesn’t matter. Your arms go around you, your face scrunches up, and a deep sob leaves you.

How stupid you are. How absolutely dumb. Horrendously, endlessly, disgustingly stupid. You thought you were being the adult.

Dean never cared about you. How could he? How could he ever? His biggest worry is probably making sure he comes and then hustling that woman out the door before Sam is back, and Cas, wherever he is. His worry wasn’t you. It never was.

Like someone changing the channel in your head, you see Dean again. Torso glistening, and those noises, skin on skin and grunting and panting, like goddamn animals. Like you and him did. Oh God. He doesn’t give a shit about you.

You actually thought you were on top of this, this whole situation. That you had done something right and good and reasonable, and that things would be alright. How fucking stupid are you?

Dean never cared. He slept with you, had sex with you, because you threw yourself at him. Came to his room with a bottle of his favorite whiskey, asking him about a boy you liked, what to do with him to make him like you. You might as well have walked in naked.

And then, when Dean thought you maybe wanted more than just one night, you avoided him, and then shut him down. All while telling him that he wasn’t in his right mind. Pathetic.

And now you’re hurt? You dare to be hurt? Because you’re not his number one?

Another sob leaves you. God, it hurts. It hurts so much. It’s not like you’ve never seen Dean just before or right after he hooked up with someone. It always made you jealous, distantly, because you were reasonable enough to know that you could never have him like this. So you teased him, acted shocked and, if you’re being honest, a little uppity about his behavior. Like a little girl that knows everything. He must have thought you were ridiculous.

And still, and still. There’s a part of you, no matter how much you beat it down, no matter how much you know you are the bad guy here, I mean, wake up, there’s a part of you that really thought he liked you. That Dean Winchester maybe liked you. The sweetest, strongest, most beautiful person you’ve ever met. Liked you. What an absolute joke.

You don’t know how long you walk, but it’s a while. It’s dark, the streets empty. You have no idea what time it is, because you’d need to unlatch your arms from your body to look at your phone.

You’d recognize the sound anywhere, of course. In your sleep, probably. Still, right then, you are so deep in your thoughts and fantasies, that the Impala is already pulling up next to you when you notice it.

Dean’s in the driver’s seat, of course. His arm is over the back of the bench and he’s leaning his head forward to look at you through the window. You stop walking, look at him. Swallow, but your mouth is dry.

He’s leaning over now, rolls down the window on the passenger side, the one you’re on, a little bit.

“Get in,” he says. His voice is softer than you expect it to be. You sniff.

“Just get in,” he says.

There’s probably no one in the world that would describe Dean as some sort of mastermind. But after today, that just might change.

It’s a matter of timing, and he almost messes up a few times. He’s been calculating all afternoon, thinking about how to do it. It’s a lot of things that need to go right. Not least of all his own seduction skills.

He and Castiel walk into a bar - there’s a joke in there somewhere. Dean picks just about the shabbiest one he can find, as close to the motel as possible.

They sit down, order their drinks. Cas immediately starts on the probing, hiding it very badly by pretending he’s talking about the case. Dean just nods along as he looks around and takes stock.

The one he settles on wouldn’t be his type, if he had one. He likes to drink, but she’s sloppy drunk, standing near the bar, one heel already tilted. She’s cute, but it’s not even eight PM on a Wednesday, and she’s sloshed. Not that he’s one to judge.

He grabs his drink and walks over to her without saying a single word to Cas. Let him figure out what Dean is doing. He’s a big boy.

He gets to chatting to the woman, forgets her name immediately. There’s a brief moment where he wonders if she’s too drunk for him to take home. She’s kinda unsure on her legs, laughs too loudly at everything he says. She’s also eye-fucking him something fierce. Still, this chick needs a cab, not some creep trying to hook up with her. Dean only distantly remembers that he’s that creep.

Luckily Castiel leaves him alone, maybe happy that Dean isn’t sulking or murdering or whatever he thinks Dean likes to do these days. He briefly winks at the angel when he asks the woman if she wants to get out of here. She steps close to him in an attempt at being seductive, runs her hand down his chest. She’ll do.

As they’re walking out, Dean looks at his phone. It’s still on the messages from Sam, the ones he made sure he got a few minutes ago when he was about to leave with his special guest. There’s Dean complaining that he’s hungry, Sam agreeing that they should eat, then saying that you just left and that Dean and Cas should start making their way back.

Dean’s sure Sam suggested that he go and get the food, but that you fought him tooth and nail, knowing that for him tearing himself away from his books is much harder. Plus Dean knows you like to walk. It was a gamble, but one he knew the odds on.

He smiles as he pockets the phone. It’s a race against time now, but at least it'll be a fun one.

He calls Sam as he’s pulling off the bar’s parking lot. Luckily the drunk chick is quiet. Dean hopes she won’t throw up. That would put an end to his plans very quickly.

“Sammy, it’s me,” he opens the conversation. “Listen, we need your help to finish some stuff up…”

The address is a fake, of course. Still, it’ll take Sam long enough to get there and when he calls to confirm the address, Dean simply won’t answer. So maybe he’ll call Cas instead. Everything should already be done by then.

When he hangs up, the woman turns to him with a suggestive grin.

“Who’s Sammy?” she asks. “Is he gonna join us?” Dean just huffs. Yeah, that’ll be the day.

Once they’re inside the room, it’s quick. Dean helps undress her. Usually he’d take his time with a woman, but now he doesn’t. He hopes she’s too drunk to care, as he pulls a condom from his wallet, then maneuvers her over to the bed. He looks at the door briefly. He’ll be facing you when you come in. That’s hoping he didn’t miscalculate somewhere and it is you walking in. If it’s Sam or Cas, he’ll survive that too. Not like it hasn’t happened before.

Luckily, the woman’s pretty wet. Not that it surprises Dean - he tends to have that effect - it’s just that he wasn’t under the impression her brain and pussy were still that much in sync. But it’s good. One less thing he has to worry about. He takes his cock in his hand and strokes himself to hardness.

He thinks about you, of course, and he doesn’t question that even for a single second. The tug and pull inside him is immediate. You’re there, under him, open and waiting, shifting around a little, just moving your body cause you already feel so damn good. Well, he’s about to take you to the next level.

You grin at him, bite your lip, let your legs drop open, breathing hard. Lower lips glistening, some of it having transferred to the inside of your thighs, that’s how bad you want him.

Come here, baby, you say, your tone only a little ironic. He raises his eyebrows at the cheekiness of your tone, grabs your waist with one hand and guides himself into you with the other.

You make the most pornographic noises. Every little push and pull a whimper or gasp or this wonderful sound he can’t really describe, it’s throaty but not. He’s not sure. Perfect, perky tits bouncing a little. Fuck, you want him so much.

You squeeze him inside of you, roll your hips, and even though you shouldn’t technically have any control in this position, you make the most of it. Your sounds get louder, as you’re basically jerking him off with your pussy. Goddamn, he’s gonna—

Dean takes a sharp breath. Focus, he thinks, and his good for nothing brain replies: you were focusing. What the fuck else would you call this? He looks down at the woman. She’s attractive, it’s not that, and she seems to be enjoying herself, but it’s almost turning him off, how much she’s not you. Goddamn it.

He pulls out, briefly, strokes his cock again. She’s mumbling, something about how she wants him to keep going and how good that was, whatever, so Dean closes his eyes, to focus.

It’s you, hand flying to your clit to keep you high, or– no, no, he told you not to touch yourself, that he’s taking care of you, so you don’t, just lie there waiting for him, no, begging for him to keep going. Please, Dean, put it in, I’m so close, I need you. Yeah, that’s right. The reaction is immediate.

He plunges back in, makes the woman drop back her head, off the side of the bed. Good, he doesn’t have to see her face.

You walk in a few minutes later. It actually takes you longer than Dean was expecting, made him almost worried if something changed, if you weren’t going to show. Maybe Cas called from the bar and Sam pulled a car out of his ass, somehow, and picked you up, and then drove to the bar and now you’re all sitting there, talking about how strange and wrong and weird Dean has become.

But that’s not what happens. You walk in, and your reaction is a million times better than Dean even dared to imagine. You care. You do care.

It turns him on to see you like this. To see you care. He was terrified you wouldn't. Any moment now you're gonna walk up to him, grab him and fuck his brains out. He needs to drop his head forward cause he's about to come from the thought alone.

But then you drop all the food and run out. Dean's surprised, it's not the reaction he was expecting, and then he flinches when his arm suddenly twitches. He looks down at the Mark.

He's dressed and in the car fifteen minutes later. He pulled out, didn't even come, unable to imagine the drunk woman as you for even another second. Why would he, when the real deal is out there?

He comes up with some story on the spot, about you being his niece that he's looking after. The drunk chick nods, hair disheveled, then belches when she's pulling up her tights. Dean's pushing her out of the door before she's put her second shoe on.

He drives off the parking lot, hangs a left, heads towards the town center. You're not there, or at least he doesn't find you. He turns the car around, does another lap. Still no sign of you.

He finds you in the other direction. He was just about to get worried - it's not like it's safe out here necessarily, for someone as young and pretty as you. So it's a relief when he pulls up.

It's an even bigger relief when, after staring at him for a moment with eyes whose redness Dean doesn't miss - you've been crying, because of him, goddamn this worked perfectly - you get in the car. In the back, not the front, but it still feels like a win.

He doesn't say anything as he drives back to the motel, and neither do you. It's dark by now, and he parks the car at the opposite end to the lot, far away from the room. Just in case Sam or Cas decide to show up.

He turns off the engine and looks up, into the rearview mirror, at you

“Sorry about that,” he says, not sounding sorry, talking as if you're in the middle of a conversation. You don't react, so Dean adds: “About what you walked in on there, earlier. I didn't think you would be back so soon.” Still you don't reply.

“Kinda had to be fast,” he continues, distantly wondering if he’s trying to fill the silence. “Just… just had to get somewhere fast, you know?”

Dean’s still looking into the rearview mirror, studying your face. You’re looking off to the side, out the window, avoiding him. Your arms are wrapped tightly around your body, like you need to protect yourself.

And all of a sudden, it doesn’t feel good. The high Dean was riding of not just getting his dick wet but of seeing you react with shock and jealousy dies down, drops him with no warning, and he needs to swallow.

“Hey,” he says into the rearview mirror, trying to get your attention, but instead, your arms around you tighten and then he can see your bottom lip begin to tremble. It’s the sweetest, prettiest thing he’s ever seen and it breaks his heart in two.

You squeeze your eyes shut and then your shoulders are shaking and before Dean can do anything, a tear, and then another, drop from your closed eyes. You sniff, and Dean feels frozen for a moment.

He was hoping you’d throw yourself at him, fuck him stupid to show him who he belongs to. Who you belong to. He didn’t expect this.

“Hey,” he says again, shifting in his seat, quieter this time, inclining his head in utter discomfort and shame, a feeling he should be used to by now but still it burns violently in him. “Don’t– it’s okay.” Your lips are pressed together, but you release them with a sob. You don’t look at him when you speak.

“Did you do that on p–purpose?” you ask, and your voice is so shaky it’s like someone grabs Dean’s heart and presses it between their hands. “How could you– Why would you do that?”

He opens the door before he even plans to do it. Gets out, lets it shut, and then opens the backdoor. He scoots in and you don’t move away. Dean sits, leans over to pull the door closed behind him. It’s probably a good sign, he thinks, just as he turns to you, that you’re allowing him to sit next to you. And then in the next moment he thinks: good sign for what?

He turns to you, and you’re avoiding his gaze, staring at the nothing. Dean needs to bring his arm to the back of the bench so that he can turn to you, and while he watches, you try to control yourself, every part of you tense, under pressure. His fingers land on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and that seems to break your levee.

You pull your shoulders up, and you’re shaking the next second. Thick, loud sobs leave you and the tears spilling down your face are endless. Dean hesitates for a second, but the sadness caused by seeing you like this, even if he is the cause of your pain, propels him forward. He scoots closer, the arm already on the back of the bench touching your shoulder now going around you, while with the other he reaches for your face, cups it gently in the hope to get you to focus on him, maybe to bring you out of this.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he really, truly is. This isn’t how he imagined it. This isn’t how he wanted it. He’s completely failed to consider that this might be an option, that for you to do anything about what he did, even jump his bones, you would have to be upset. Shame rears its head inside of him again. How could he be so stupid?

He turns you towards him, but the gentleness he hopes will calm you only seems to make things worse, because you open your mouth, lips puffy from crying, lips he wants nothing more than to feel right now, but he can’t, he shouldn’t, and address him without looking at him.

“Who would do something like that?” you say, hiccuping. “How could you– Why did you do that?”

It’s the same question you’ve already asked, but the unspoken answer remains the same. Dean did it because he could. Because he wanted something, saw a way to get it and didn’t care about the consequences. Because he feels justified in burning the house down to make himself warm, and he doesn’t give a shit about who’s asleep in bed upstairs.

“It was stupid,” he says, thumb tracing your skin in the same pattern over and over, to calm you, but honestly, also to calm himself. To reassure him that he fucked up like this and still gets to touch you. That things are gonna be fine, fine, and he can still be close to you. “I– I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did.” A lie. “I’m sorry.” Not a lie.

And then, and Dean could sing at that if he was the type, you lean against him. He raises his chin and your head slots under it so perfectly he thinks this must mean something. Your shoulders go slack, and Dean needs to close his eyes, because this, this, means you still trust him. He hasn't become someone unsafe for you.

He presses you against himself and you keep crying. Dean doesn't want to think about what it means that you are back in his arms despite what he did. He feels guilt at the act, and then more guilt at not pushing you away from him, at not stopping you from returning to him. He's a lucky son of a bitch, and he knows that luck won't hold, it can't, not forever. It's fine.

It's fine, because you lean against him, your smaller body shaking and the Mark rejoices. It wants Dean isolated and alone, but maybe you can be the exception. Maybe you won't question him all the time the way Sam does, make him feel bad about every single fucking decision he makes. Maybe you can be the one he shares all of this with. The one he can finally give himself up to.

He turns your face and looks down at you. Eyes half closed from the crying and there are those puffy lips again. He leans forward and kisses them, deeply, hungrily. He feels you tense for a moment. Then you return the kiss.

He kisses you harder. You seem tired, the way a good long cry makes everyone tired, but you're hurt, so you crave the closeness, the forgiving, the forgetting.

He'll make you forget. He’ll make you forgive.

He’s terrified you’re gonna stop him, any second now. He can’t have that, can’t have you turning from him, so he keeps kissing you, presses his tongue into your mouth and you accept it, press yours against his a moment later.

Heaven, he thinks. Pure and blissful heaven. But now that he’s had a taste, finally has had another taste, he wants all of it.

Without moving his lips away from yours, he begins maneuvering your body, pulling your hips forward, turning himself. His hands go to the button of your jeans, open it with the most delicious pop he’s ever heard, and you’re not telling him to stop, you’re not pushing him away.

It’s close quarters on that backseat. Not like Dean doesn’t know, not like he hasn’t done this. If you would ride him, that would work much better, or even if you got up on all fours. But he’s careful of moving you too much, of waking you from this trance you’re in, this trance that allows him to keep going.

So he awkwardly lays you on your back. Your jeans are around your knees already and getting them the rest of the way off isn’t easy. He manages, but needs to sit up, unlatch from you, and he’s terrified you’re gonna use that moment to tell him to stop.

But you don’t. Your arms are drawn up to your chest, and you’re not looking at him, avoiding his gaze, even. But Dean can’t think about that now. You want him. Maybe you just can’t admit it to yourself.

It’s too much work to do the whole spiel with your underwear too, so Dean simply pushes the fabric of it to the side. He sees your pussy and he wants to appreciate it, push his mouth against it, but he doesn’t have the time, doesn’t have the self control, not now, not right now. He’ll spend time on you next time, but right then, he just needs to have you.

He leans over you again, elbows holding him up. He’s not looking at your face, even though he misses the sight of it, but he’s pretty sure he’s not gonna like what he sees there. He wishes you were enthusiastic, would grab him, pull him in. But you’re not. He’s scared that if he looks at your face he’ll see you’re not really there in the car with him.

He’s pulled down his own suit pants, taken his cock out, hard and wanting without so much as being touched once - the new status quo he has simply accepted when it comes to you. He shuffles around a little, tugs one of your legs up on his side. He needs you that far open so your underwear doesn’t get in the way when he begins pushing into you. Still, he feels the fabric run along his dick. He doesn’t care.

He presses his open mouth against your temple, one hand going to the side of your head, taking a fistful of the hair there, not to pull, but only to steady himself. You make a sound in your throat that could be encouragement or disdain or just air leaving you, but Dean can’t focus, can’t hear it, he can’t concentrate on something like that when he’s finally, finally, inside of you again.

On the first push in - not a lot of resistance, he distantly notes, so maybe you do want him - his stomach twitches and his fist in your hair tightens. It’s almost painful, the muscle contractions, no, it is painful. But it’s also good. He thinks it’s an orgasm, but he doesn’t shoot into you, so he elects to ignore it, groans until it’s passed, then begins moving.

He moans immediately, mouth still pressed against you so you can hear him. Why has he been going out there, fucking hundreds of women, when something like this is possible? How did he have no idea what he was missing out on?

His sounds break the silence of the car, his loud breathing, along with the slight squelch of him going in and out of you. It’s why he hears the voices immediately.

“There’s food all over the floor, I don’t know what happened,” he hears Sam and freezes. A second voice joins him, and of course it’s fucking Cas. They’re a little bit away and Dean’s not immediately sure if they’re coming closer.

“His car’s here,” the angel points out, ever the observant one. “He must have just checked into another room with his… friend. ” Dean shifts just a little, and you whimper at it, so his hand flies to your mouth, presses over it and he looks down at you. Your eyes are glistening in the soft light of the parking lot. A sudden instinct strikes him, and he gives an experimental roll of his hips.

A few things happen at the same time: you make that sound in your throat again, lids fluttering and eyes rolling up for just a second. At the same time, your pussy clenches down on him, a quick, uncontrolled squeeze.

Interesting, Dean thinks. Very interesting.

He pushes forward again, and the same thing happens. His hand is still clasped over your mouth and he pushes a little harder, making your breathing pick up. You like this. You like needing to be quiet, the danger of getting caught. Sam and Cas standing out there, just a few feet away from finding out that you’re allowing Dean to fuck you in the backseat of his car.

He gives a hard thrust, your pussy grabbing him at the sudden stimulation.

“Ssh,” he goes, unable to hide the grin on his face. He says it quietly but it feels loud in the car’s interior. “Don’t want them to hear us, now do we?” It has the desired effect. You move under him, shift around as far as that’s possible. You want him to move, Dean realizes. Oh, that he will.

He starts fucking you again, slow and shallow. The slow part is mostly so that the car’s frame doesn’t squeak, give you two away. But he can’t deny the thrill of seeing your eyebrows pull together, your eyes shutting, trying to concentrate on the feeling. Oh, you love this.

“I’ll call her,” Dean can hear Sam say, barely registering, but then a second later he hears a buzzing in the car. He almost freezes, almost stops, but then he realizes it’s your phone. Your jeans are in the footwell next to him, and he sees it peaking out, the screen lighting up with Sam’s name on the display. He makes a quick decision.

Dean reaches down, grabs the phone, and shoves it between you two. He tilts it so the edge of it presses against your clit, or as close to it as he can find without looking.

He knows he’s hit the spot when you buck up under him, like a wild horse trying to throw him off. What he guesses are involuntary moans shatter against his hand and you’re twitching, squeezing him like crazy, moving around, like you’re trying to get away from the stimulation, but his larger, heavier body is pinning you down, stopping the movement from rocking the car. The phone buzzes, then briefly stops, the buzzes again, but the short breaks aren’t enough for you to recover. Dean grins, even though you’re making an awful ruckus.

“Ssh, ssh,” he presses out, despite your moving and clenching and twitching feeling absolutely amazing, “stop thrashing, they’re gonna find us.” You seem to just register what he’s saying, seemingly try to calm your body, still twitching here and there but giving yourself over to the feeling.

“No answer,” he hears distantly, “let’s wait inside.” He hears footsteps retreating.

Just in time too, because he can’t wait anymore. He pushes himself up, careful not to put too much weight on your head, but still pressing the back of it down into the leather. With the new angle, he can drive into you faster, harder. And he does.

The call is dropped a second later, and Dean tosses the phone somewhere on the ground, not caring. He’s looking down, at where he’s disappearing inside of you, but he can’t go faster, so he lets go of your mouth, grabs your hips, and begins slamming himself into you as quickly as he can.

He needs to come, and he needs to come now. He’s pretty sure his head is gonna explode otherwise. He’s pretty sure his heart is gonna stop if he doesn’t. It’s the only thing on his mind.

He looks up at your face, and it makes his cock twitch violently when he sees what he sees. You’re just pulling your legs up, so as to give Dean more room to move. Your face is flushed, probably both from his hand and from you trying to be quiet, and your lids are low. He looks into your eyes as he keeps thrusting, and you into his.

You moan loudly when your gazes connect. You’re crazy about him, Dean understands in that moment. Just as crazy as he is about you.

“D-Dean,” comes out of you suddenly, the first thing you’ve said since this all started. Dean only has it in him to raise his eyebrows. He’s too busy burying himself in you over and over.

“I– I shouldn’t be doing this to you,” you moan, stammering on the first word. Dean grins, gives an extra hard thrust. He wants you to know how hard he is, all of it for you, and you gasp, then whimper. He gives you another.

“Yeah, look what you do to me,” he grunts, picking up his rhythm again. He lowers his head, almost snarls up at you. “Look what you fucking do to me. Making me fuck you like this.”

You whine again and then, without him needing to do anything else, your hand wanders between your legs, fingertips finding your clit and rubbing quickly. Dean could scream from lust and joy. You want to come. And he’s gonna get you there.

He shuffles, brings his knees more under him. It raises your lower body up but it gives him the purchase he needs to set the pace he desires. He holds you fast in place at your hips as he fucks you, his cock now coming away glistening from your arousal.

You give a loud moan, Dean hitting something in you that makes you even wetter, makes your inner walls flutter like the embrace of a long lost lover or something different, something more alien. He wants to touch every other part of you, but he can feel it building now, feel the tension rising in him.

He comes, groaning loudly, and while he empties himself into you he simply keeps fucking you, his cock twitching like crazy. You throw your head back, making noises that almost sound like pain, and then he feels you come around him, twitching and vibrating. Perfection. Absolute perfection.

He keeps fucking you, making you whine, but still he doesn’t stop. Thank the Mark for what he is able to pull out of his body, or maybe it’s just you, the chemicals of your bodies mixing, undoing all natural laws, because a minute later he feels his balls pull up again, and one arm shoots forward, grabs your jaw, your chin resting in the valley between his thumb and index finger, and he comes again, grinding himself deep into you while he holds you in place.

He’s not sure if he blacks out for a second with the intensity of it, but then he’s blinking, his surroundings coming back into focus. You’re not looking at him, your own eyes closed, Dean’s hand still attached to you. He lets go and pulls it back, before slowly pulling out of you.

“Are you okay?” he asks. You open your eyes, stare at the ceiling of the car. Both of you are still breathing hard, your chest rising and falling, the movement absolutely mesmerizing to Dean.

“Yes,” you say, quietly. Dean sniffs.

“Let’s get some dinner,” he says.

Dean and you walk into the motel room and Sam drops the phone he’s holding in both hands on the table in front of him.

“There you are,” he says, voice tense. “Is everything okay?”

Dean walks over to the table, past Castiel, and puts the two armfuls of food he’s carrying down. You walk in too, close the door behind you, then stand there while Sam and Cas both look at you.

“I came back and I thought something happened,” Sam says, standing up, looking at you with a worried expression on his face. “I tried calling.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice coming out a little cracked, “sorry, phone died. I got in and I…” You look down at where the rug of the room is still slightly darker because of the spilled drink.

“Sorry,” you say again, still looking down. “I was embarrassed and I just wanted to get the food, because I knew you’d be hungry when you came back. And Dean too.”

The story has more holes than a sinking ship. It’s ridiculous, actually, and it feels nearly offensive to be telling it, to assume that anyone would believe it. Still, your brain feels pinned, frozen, and it’s all you can come up with.

“Who cares?” Dean says in the general direction of his brother as he sits down in one of the chairs, drags one of the styrofoam containers towards him and opens it. “Everyone’s alive. We got food. Can we eat?” Cas turns to you, takes an extra step towards you and lays his hand on your shoulder.

“So long as you’re okay,” he says and you force a smile onto your face, nod. Try to ignore the tackiness between your legs, the one you were violently aware of standing in the glaring light of the fast food restaurant, waiting in line, again, now next to Dean. It made you shudder and he turned to you, but you pretended you didn’t notice. You’re gonna have to take a shower later, even though you already took one at the bunker earlier.

Dean is already chomping down and Cas moves away from you, looking over the banquet and with a small smile reaches for the new Coke you got him. Only Sam isn’t moving. He’s watching the scene, a slight frown on his face. Dean notices, raises his eyebrows at his brother.

“Come on, man,” he says after swallowing, “your rabbit food’s gonna get cold or whatever.” But Sam still doesn’t sit, instead crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“So did you two get the food together?” he asks, trying to make his voice lighter than it actually is, you think. “Cause we saw your car in the parking lot, Dean. After you left Cas at the bar.” There’s accusation in the last part, and it bubbles to the surface as Dean slows his chewing and a cold shiver goes through you.

“I went for a little post-coital drive,” Dean says, not taking his eyes off his brother. The lie comes to him so shockingly easy. Dean reaches for a napkin, dabs at his mouth before he straightens in his seat.

“You know the ones, Sammy?” he asks, a slight challenge in his voice. “Oh right, you don’t. You don’t get laid.”

It’s just a joke. It’s just the kind of joke Dean makes and Sam rolls his eyes at and that’s it, harmless. But of course it’s not. It’s heavy with meaning. You’re reminded of the stickiness between your legs. You should just excuse yourself to the bathroom but you feel like you can’t move, like that would be so obvious. Why would you go to the bathroom other than to clean Dean’s come off yourself?

Sam huffs, much too late. It’s forced, not genuine, but, to your utmost relief, he finally sits down. Dean begins chewing again while Castiel briefly looks between you two and Sam stares at the mountain of food for a few seconds before reaching for what is clearly his.

You move, finally, stepping forward as if you’ve never stepped forward before. Every single movement feels mechanical, and after what feels like an eternity, you reach the table, sit down, once more reminded of the mess in your underwear. Dean pulled the seat of it over your crotch once he’d pulled out. Keep that in there, he said, and you only nodded.

You’re looking down at the table, too nervous to make another move when suddenly a wrapped sandwich is held before you. You look up. It’s Dean, reaching across the table, holding it out to you. He’s looking at your face, his expression completely neutral. For a moment, it might as well just be the two of you in this room.

Your hand goes up, and you take the sandwich from him. Dean pulls his hand back, keeps looking at you for another second. There’s a thousand things you could interpret into that stare, but you don’t know what you actually see there. So you look down at the food in front of you. It twists your stomach to think about it. But it’s not the only thing you think about.

You think about Dean, above you there in the backseat of his car. About how it felt like he couldn’t stop himself. You didn’t want him to, you think, although you’re not sure. You’re not sure what you want at all. This feeling afterwards, this dread in your stomach - it shouldn’t be like that, right? It shouldn’t feel this way.

You think about him, moving inside you. About him pressing his hand over your mouth. You liked it, because it felt like you didn’t need to make a choice. It wasn’t like pushing him off you and alerting Sam and Cas to your presence was an option. So you might as well enjoy it.

You don’t know what to think. Shame burns hot in your chest, but not as hot as in your core, or the rest of your body, all of it screaming for Dean.

[almostfoxglove]

I know it’s quite literally impossible but I wish I could read about every single moment in Joel and Nelle’s lives, no matter how mundane. Like obviously as readers we only see certain parts that are relevant to the story, but I wanna know what they do in between. Does that make sense? 😅

omg this is so cute AHH but I 100% know what you mean :,,) those babies haunt me day and night. and between you and me, I have a whole bunch of bullet points in my wip docs of little details / moments / headcanons that probably won't make it into the main fic, soooo... *lays this at your feet*

some SEE YOU AT THREE headcanons

neither joel or nelle are holiday / anniversary people (seen a little in red tulips) but after joel forgets valentine's day he is DETERMINED to not miss the anniversary of their first date and manages to surprise her because nelle doesn't keep track of that shit. she's so mortified because he clearly made an effort to celebrate it, so they pretty much trade off each year whose turn it is to remember the day and do something small :,)

nelle gets him a new sweater every year for christmas. tradition!

when one of them gets a hole joel gets out a book from the library on mending clothes and fixes them himself because he cannot live without them they make him feel too nice :,,,,) they are the only articles from his wardrobe that he bothers mending, everything else is riddled w holes lmfao

she also makes sarah the MOST laaaavish birthday cakes / treats, in part because it's so funny to see the look on joel's face when she carries in some massive multi-tiered behemoth that they're gonna have to demolish before it goes off (tommy and anna/ellie have to help eat, obviously). but she also tries out really elaborate bread - like this purple butterfly loaf here.

whenever joel has to go to the dmv or any similar errand, nelle goes along so she can watch that vein in his neck pop w frustration, and also so he doesn't bark at that lady standing behind them who keeps sighing really loud and complaining about the wait. he stands there all big and seething with clenched fists and nelle loves every. fucking. second. of it.

nelle gets sarah & ellie extremely into buffy the vampire slayer. when the girls are in high school, sarah dresses up as buffy for halloween and joel about has a heart attack when he sees her walk out in the mini skirt and cross necklace carrying a big wooden stake. mutters something like 'just promise me you use that thing (the stake) if some jackass tries anything' when he drops her off, to which sarah scoffs 'obviously.' but really when some guy at school whistles at her, it's ellie that throws the punch. gets herself suspended. nelle & joel have never been more proud.

joel likes to call nelle and put her on speakerphone when he's folding laundry

nelle likes to call joel and put him on speakerphone when she's 'wrestling' with some baking experiment at home ("THE YEAST IS NOT COOPERATING, I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GONNA---Joel, I can hear you laughing, you know!")

nelle is one of maria's bridesmaids when tommy & maria get married, and joel cries standing up at the altar behind his brother, seeing him so happy (and lowkey seeing nelle up there across from him, all dressed up and pretty). nelle scrunches her nose at him like she wants to tease when he sniffles during the vows and never lets him live it down. calls him a big ol' softie the whole night.

OKAY I think I've spammed you enough :,,) thank you so much for loving these two I LOVE YOU <3

[starless-nightz]

Could you pretty please do Platonic! Black Sapphire Cookie being an older brother figure to child reader????

Platonic! Black Sapphire Cookie being an older brother figure to child! reader

note -> He is one of my mains. He has his own special category in my favorite character categories: Purple. Might be OOC so sorry.

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff, protective older brother vibes, training, he’s a spoiled brat too.

Black Sapphire Cookie found you a bit annoying at first, but over time he starts to genuinely care about you. He is a strict but caring older brother figure. Black Sapphire Cookie doesn’t express his care for you openly but from the way he acts it is very obvious.

He is a busy man, after all he is spreading rumours and gossip to cause chaos for his master! But don’t worry since Black Sapphire Cookie would often bring you with him to teach you the ways of lying and deceit! If you are a good enough liar he would even let you make up your own rumors!

You are the only person Black Sapphire Cookie is truly truthful with. For some reason you are the only person he doesn’t see the need to lie to. Black Sapphire Cookie doesn’t know if it’s because you are just a young cookie or something else, but it bothers him a bit.

He would be the one to personally train you. While Black Sapphire Cookie isn’t too hard on you he also doesn’t go easy on you, he just simply wants you to improve.And when you do improve? He would shower you in praise and gifts.

Black Sapphire Cookie always keeps a watchful eye on you at all times. Even if he doesn’t always hover, he knows where you are, who you’re with, and whether you’re safe. If anyone tries to mess with you? They’ll regret it.

He loves it when you praise him. It is said that children are very blunt little creatures so you praising him just has to mean that he is great no? When you do praise him Black Sapphire Cookie spoils you with gifts because it boosts his ego.

Black Sapphire Cookie is unsurprisingly very protective of you. He does not take it kindly when someone insults you or tries to hurt you. No matter how much Black Sapphire Cookie tries to convince himself he doesn’t care he truly does.

He finds it amusing how you follow him around everywhere he goes. It makes him quite happy that you like him that much. After a while under his care Black Sapphire Cookie would start calling you his little sapphire, like a mini-version of him.

Black Sapphire Cookie and you would often talk like you are on television, pretending to broadcast all the nasty rumors and gossip you make. You two would also pretend you are on television when you are playing games just because it is fun.

No matter what, he always has your back. Even if he won’t say it outright, he sees you as his little sibling, and nothing in the world could ever change that.

[auguryofjellyfish]

wada essay time!! (warning, it's super long.)

i've been thinking a lot about wada and hiroaki's relationship lately. specifically, the way wada expresses physical and verbal affection towards him, because it's different from how he acted towards anyone he's been close to so far. it's super interesting to me, so i wanted to analyze and speculate about it. before i get to that, i want go to through the other major relationships wada's had for comparison, starting with...

wada and tsuno.

tsuno was very generous with showing affection towards wada, often taking him into her arms at the slightest hint of upset, or saying that she loves him out of the blue and then moving on like it was nothing. but wada didn't really return her gestures, or initiate any, so for the longest time i was confused on how he felt about her. in [audio visual experience], when she called him her little brother, he said "you're still running with that?", thinking it's just been a bit. he was keeping her at arm's length, but he still clearly liked and trusted her so... there could be a few possible explanations for that.

some time ago, i said that wada seems like he doesn't really trust words. he looks at people's actions and behaviour, and he believes his own conclusions over what people say. tsuno frequently put up a front around wada, acting way too upbeat during dire situations or hiding when she was upset. she didn't want to burden him with her problems, but it does signal a lack of trust in him and his capabilities to support her back. and wada saw that. he knew that she was stressed and overworked, and that he added to that stress by being constantly sick and breaking down and generally needing a lot of care. but if she's always denying it whenever he brings it up, offering endless reassurances instead, even though those don't really work on him and he knows better... how is he supposed to fully trust her? to truly feel like he stands on level ground with her? so, maybe when he heard tsuno say that she loved him, that he's her little brother, it registered, but he didn't let himself take it to heart. 'maybe she's just saying that, like all these other things. saying what he wants to hear.' and, if she doesn't want his support, to rely on him, then maybe she wouldn't want anything else he has to offer either. wada likes to be of use to people he loves/trusts/is grateful to- so being denied a chance to helpful, being basically deemed in some way 'insufficient' for the task when he was 'taking' so much from tsuno, made him feel even more like a burden.

another possible reason: tsuno was an overwhelmingly kind person, helping others was her main purpose in life. she was a self-proclaimed superhero! so, why would wada believe that he was special to her just because she was kind and warm to him? that's just who she was. that was just a part of the job she took upon herself. so if he let himself be affectionate back, and it turned out that she was only being nice and helpful because that's who she is and not because she cares about him as a person specifically...hhhh...ouch. he's already been way too vulnerable with her. wada's parents hated him, he has been mistreated and unwanted his whole life. pure speculation now, but he might have been burned before, maybe in his foster families or elsewhere, when people made him feel that maybe that was finally it, until inevitably something went wrong. and so now he doesn't let himself get his hopes up without being very sure.

it kinda seems like i'm making wada out to be so distrusting of tsuno, which is not true. wada was audibly comfortable and happy whenever he was with her. wada knew tsuno wanted the best for him because of everything she did, and he was very grateful towards her. by now, i know that he loved her, he just wasn't expressing it very openly like she was.

it's just, the disconnect between tsuno's behaviour and reality, and her refusal to give wada a chance to support her created distance between them. all these factors were muddying the waters and causing him to let his walls down at a snail's pace.

the only time it was different was in the last moments they spend together, during chap 3's investigation. tsuno's manner was noticeably dimmer than usual. first, wada tried to cheer her up by talking about silly topics, like learning to play tuba. finally, he asked her if she was okay. and just because she was vulnerable, he finally had an opportunity to offer support- to be there for her in her grief. she didn't put up a front this time, she treated him as an equal, and was honest. and so, when she said she loved him, he said it back.

i think if tsuno had lived, and started being more real with wada, he might have began feeling more comfortable with expressing affection openly, but...i'm still glad she got to hear that from him, just once.

wada and isono.

isono is tricky, because they spend very little time being real friends, but how he acted towards her parasocially says a LOT about how he acts towards people he loves and admires. even though she was only one of multiple streamers wada watched and supported, she was still incredibly important to him. he had been watching her for long enough for a deep emotional connection to form regardless of whether he knew who she truly was. and, it was very real to him, even though it was one sided.

before the KG, she was his lifeline. although he had no one in his life, through her and other streamers, he felt genuinely cared for. this next part is going to be more speculative... there weren't many reasons for wada to get out of bed, but, whenever isono asked her viewers to take care of themselves, maybe he found it a bit more doable, like it was worth it. and he couldn't really let her down now after she said that, could he? through her, maybe...he found the strength to face another day. again, and again.

he had nothing to offer, but he needed to show his gratitude somehow. well...all he had was the meager amount of money he earned, so, he could support her and others with that. he didn't have a steady or large paycheck, and this money could really be put to a better use, something to truly improve his life, but that didn't matter- the streamers kept him going, they were the only ones he had, really. when they gave him so much, he had to give back, even if he was left with nothing.

presently, she's still the one wada has the deepest emotional connection with. so much so that even after tsuno dies, he still goes to talk primarily to isono's ghost. he feels like he can share everything with her without reservations, as if out of everyone, she was the one that truly cared for and understood him.

before she died, he didn't have many opportunities nor time to open up to her and show her affection, but still, they seemed like they were on the fast track to becoming great friends. isono loved to tease him and play harmless pranks, and she cared about him. they also had a few moments together as a comedic duo. and wada got to meet her, to talk to her, to get to truly know her... it must have been anxiety inducing but, in some way, also a dream come true.

isono's still the most important person to him. there's no comparison. and yet...

wada and hiroaki.

now this. this pair has been driving me crazy since chap 4. even though wada is not nearly as emotionally close with hiroaki as he still is with isono, the way he's acting with him is different than the way he's been with anyone else. after months of me being confused about how wada felt about tsuno cause he's been so closed off, with hiroaki i have zero doubts in my mind that he straight up adores him. it's bewildering.

physical affection. with hiroaki, wada initiated hugs on his own! i don't remember him ever being the one to do that with tsuno, she always had to beckon him towards her. but with hiroaki, he did that two times, completely unselfconsciously, despite hiroaki's protests, just because he wanted to. i didn't think much of it at first because what hiroaki did for him, giving him clothes + a haircut, was so significant that it warranted a big show of gratitude, but taking everything else into account? that was still unusual for wada.

wada's also been very verbally affectionate when the right opportunity presented itself. he's been calling hiroaki nagawa very consistently, but everyone's been calling him that so it's kinda nbd. however, last week's "we love you nagawa!" was like...what? i'm?? months ago i would never ever have guessed that wada would become hiroaki's biggest supporter after ojima. he was so happy at hiroaki making progress, he was almost giddy, and he said that like it was nothing! that sounded like something a fan would shout at their idol to cheer them on, so i had a thought that maybe wada's been feeling a little like hiroaki's something like his oshi. but then he said he was proud of him, and then repeated it again for emphasis. you don't say that to someone when you place yourself below them, you say that to an equal, (although i'm still holding onto the oshi thing). they're both flawed individuals who have difficulties with self-worth and expressing themselves, and who they want to be. hiroaki has very visible problems and weaknesses, he's been struggling hard with changing and growing as a person, and wada can heavily relate to that.

with hiroaki, he's not scared or reluctant of showing affection when he truly feels like it. he just does it. he loved tsuno, but he never was like that with her, so... i just wondered what made the difference.

wada and hiroaki didn't have much of a relationship for the first two chapters, at least on wada's side. he thought hiroaki was a loudmouth and a jerk, as did most other people. also he was lowkey scared of him due to the sketches hiroaki had made of him. that changed in [formentia] when wada watched hiroaki calm hama down from an anxiety attack. that was the first time he truly saw hiroaki's kind side. realizing that there was a lot more to him than meets the eye, he started calling him by his first name from that point on. another scene that was significant for them happened in [the other room], when ojima took wada away from okazaki and tsuno's fight and placed him in the room with hiroaki. despite his pretense of not being concerned, hiroaki offered him reassurance, and they had a nice conversation where they learned more about each other and bonded a little as fellow creatives.

this is a good place to mention that hiroaki also really likes wada, to the point where he doesn't bother denying it anymore. he had been hard at work on a gift for him for two weeks, and the conversations they had in chap 3 made him even more fond of him. so when wada came into the dining hall in [salvage], acting pissed off and shooting hiroaki down for no reason, when he had been nothing but demure and friendly with him so far? it hurt. really hurt, cause he didn't expect that from wada. hiroaki wasn't even being particularly hostile, he was just making a few dumb comments that wada normally wouldn't really react to. he was just being himself, which wada seemed to be accepting of... up until that point. so, in response to what was essentially a jab to the shoulder, hiroaki went straight for the jugular.

after that wada was back to being anxious around hiroaki, even becoming openly hostile and resentful towards him following tsuno's passing. and then it seemed like that was that- their tentative friendship was over... until [grieving process].

tsuno's death was the hardest moment wada's experienced thus far. after the trial, he was just crashing in his room. and here comes hiroaki, respecting wada's coping mechanism despite deriding it before, and making an effort to be vulnerable in front of him. and then... he gave him new custom clothes he had sewn himself, wanting nothing in return.

hiroaki put in hours upon hours of thought, effort and work in order to create something wonderful just for wada, which he didn't have to do at all. but he did, because he wanted to, because he felt wada was worth it. and then, he gave it to him in his darkest hour, to uplift him and give him strength. and so... wada now knows for sure that, no matter what, the person who reached out to him right then with the most thoughtful gesture he's experienced in his life, cannot be anything but kind at his core.

wada relaxes. his body feels lighter than it ever has. without a shred of selfconsciousness, he steps forward and gently wraps his arms around hiroaki. he feels safe. he doesn't pay hiroaki's words and tone any mind. he sees beyond them, and he understands now. he sees him.

that moment was beyond monumental. wada didn't have to do anything to "earn" this, or even ask for it. hiroaki just went completely out of his way, doing something completely selfless, and he didn't do that for anyone else but wada. this gesture was so big, so full of effort and time, so much kindness, specifically for him, it made wada lower down his walls in an instant.

i have no doubt that this made wada feel very special and loved.

it also helped that he definitely likes hiroaki as a person. he doesn't trust him 100%, he still prefers to speak his thoughts to empty air, but he can trust that hiroaki truly likes and cares about him, and that if he hurts him, it's never on purpose.

that. that one thing, hiroaki going above and beyond when he didn't have to, when it was completely unexpected, only for him, was what i think made wada trust him much faster than tsuno. categorizing these relationships, i would put hiroaki closer to isono than to her, which is???? remarkable to me when he knew isono for far longer. don't get me wrong- he LOVES tsuno. i'm not saying that hiroaki's closer to him than her or that wada holds him in higher regard. it's just...different. i'm holding off with the L word for now, even though he said it himself, but still. wada really really likes hiroaki a lot. cannot overstate that enough. despite me trying hard to understand why, it still astonishes me that wada wants to and feels like he can express his affection and support this openly and easily towards anyone. it's incredible. hiroaki didn't want any payment from him, so he just...offers his words and gestures instead. and hiroaki has been so protective of wada it's crystal clear to everyone too, like, tamba saying he dotes on him?? i think a lot of that protectiveness came from tsuno's death, but he's definitely truly fond of wada as a person too.

maybe if wada manages to willingly open up to hiroaki, then i will be able to say with certainty that he loves him.

for the end, i want to talk about [quick check] because it's been driving me bonkers. it's such a weird episode.

in it, wada comes across hiroaki, who checks up on him. and wada, eh...he doesn't really want to elaborate on his mental or overall state, but it seems like he still REALLY wants to have a low-stakes conversation with him. then he asks hiroaki a bunch of questions, which is amazing because he hardly ever asks anyone anything. he's trying really hard here. now this i know is a reach, but when he said like "omg i forgot, ken's waiting for me in my room, i just came here for water"....to me, it sounded a little like he wanted hiroaki to stop him?? to say something like "you're hanging out with hasezawa? that boring old nerd? no way, hang out here with me!" i have nothing to support that claim, it's just funny. but either way, what i'm sure of, just like his every other question, it was meant to act as a springboard for eliciting a sort of response from hiroaki that would get things rolling. buut, instead, all that wada gets are monosyllabic and dry answers...which is sad. at the end, he still waits a few seconds in silence to see whether hiroaki would engage him on his own, but nope. he just wasn't in the mood.

i might be misinterpreting it, but it would make sense with how much wada likes hiroaki. either way, it felt weird as hell... there's just something about it. if this episode turns out to be not in any way relevant to the plot later on i'll eat my hat.

[maskygirl55]

Sonic x Epic Character Headcanons

(please note this is a Sonadow version and I'm a newcomer to the fandom armed with only SCU knowledge, fanfiction and fanwiki.)

Sonic - Odysseus

Shadow - Penelope

Blaze - Athena

Idk how to explain it just feels right.

Rouge - Circe

Tails - Telemachus

I initially wanted him to be Polites as (in my humble opinion) Tails is what drives Sonic to be a hero as he wants to both protect his brother and be a good role model for him. But also if anything happened to him I know he would lose his shit and the possible angst factor seemed glorious until I thought of someone else.

I decided on Telemachus in the end because while Tails loves his brother, he also wants to be able to stand next to him as a hero in his own right as he does struggle with self worth which I felt was perfect for him.

Knuckles - Eurylochus

Maddie Wachowski - Odysseus' Mom

I feel like I need to explain this one. So as stated above. I initially thought of Tails as Polities as he is near and dear to Sonic's heart and would be the starting point to his tragedy, but this came to me as I was considering Sonic's mom in 'Underworld'. I don't know much of his video game/comic mom besides the fact that he has siblings named Manic and Sonia (still don't know if this is canon or not) but I felt that a mother who isn't present in his life would not be as impactful to the viewer/reader.

But in the SCU, we see that there was a buildup of a relationship after past trauma and experiences, but it was eventually overcome so they could become a family. It also connects really well with the next headcanon.

Tom Wachowski - Polities

Polities was made into not only Odysseus' best friend but also his moral compass which he lost tragically in front of him because of Polyphemus.

This ring a bell to the people who watched Sonic 3??

There's also the idea that Sonic is thinking of how he's going to explain to his mom that her husband, his father, died right in front of his eyes and there was nothing he could have done to stop it. Then he goes to the underworld only to find out she's already dead because he took too long to get home. Now he's officially an orphan.

If that doesn't seem like a good reason to crash out and become a monster, then I don't know what is.

This also gives a better reason for Knuckles (Eurolychus) to doubt Sonic as their father died because he relied on wit which would fundamentally shook him.

Silver - Hermes

Silver is constantly sending messages and trying to prevent world ending catastrophes because of Sonic, I felt like it was fitting. It also allows for the flying to continue (and because I lowkey like Hermes x Tiresias)

Espio - Tiresias

Someone on Tiktok made it so and I have no reason to argue.

Amy Rose - Aphrodite

Surge - Ares

I don't know how else to explain this besides it just makes sense

Infinite - Antinous

Metal Sonic - Poseidon

This one also needs some explanation. I was initially inspired by EmmaSmoke's god au on AO3.

But then I really got into it. Metal Sonic as a god would be objectively better than Sonic as he is a god and Sonic is just a mortal, but in the end all his godliness was defeated against Sonic's unwavering determination to reunite with his family.

Metal Sonic is also a machine that could theoretically live forever but Sonic is mortal and yet he will always outshine him. And ain't that just poetic.

Sage - Calypso

LET ME SPEAK!! I know that Sage isn't who most people would think of in terms of Calypso but let me explain.

Calypso is a goddess who was punished because of the sins of her father and didn't deserve it. THIS DOESN'T EXCUSE WHAT SHE DID TO ODYSSEUS, but she was a person who was isolated and was desperate for someone, anyone to stay with her. She was also unaware of common decency. To reiterate THIS DOESN'T EXCUSE WHAT SHE DID, but we must understand this.

Sage is the daughter of Eggman and would be punished for her father's sins. She also is an ai that continues to learn and grow, the gods bringing her Sonic would be seen as an opportunity to learn in a practical manner as she's had little to no social interaction.

Also, as she is not a mortal, she doesn't understand why Sonic keeps trying to leave her for a mortal when they stay in paradise and she is a goddess, and likely never will

.

.

.

.

.

.

Now for this last one ... I don't think you're ready

Fleetway Sonic - Zeus

... I can't explain it better than that it came to me in a dream.

Fleetway Sonic is also a powerful antagonist character who is altogether unpredictable in his methods.

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 3: May 2023

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

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

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

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

Warnings and Notes: 

Welcome to 8k of my waffling. Warnings: we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussion of toxic relationships in the past, also discussion of very toxic thoughts about intimacy, and discussion of past dubious consent, Max being a simp for his girl, ...I think that's it? If I missed something, let me know.

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

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Hey, just a heads-up—it’s Mother’s Day this weekend.

Max: …Okay?

Isabelle: I always remind my brothers, or they forget. Thought I’d do the same for you.

Max: Thanks, I guess? But I ordered flowers and her favorite sweets three weeks ago.

Isabelle: …You what?

Max: Yeah. And a handwritten card.

Isabelle: THREE WEEKS AGO?

Max: Yes?

Isabelle: Do you understand how unfair this is??

Max: What do you mean?

Isabelle: You’re making every other man in my life look terrible.

Max: Maybe they should simply try harder.

Isabelle: You don’t get it. I usually have to remind them, nag them, and buy the gifts myself so they don’t show up empty-handed.

Max: Again. Not my problem.

Isabelle: You’re actually infuriating.

Max: Because I remembered a holiday in advance?

Isabelle: Because you remembered without me having to tell you!

Max: This is a weird thing to be mad about.

Isabelle: I’m not mad, I’m just—adjusting.

Max: To what?

Isabelle: To a boyfriend who actually does things without needing to be reminded?

Max: Well, get used to it.

Isabelle: I might cry.

Max: Please don’t, you’ll make me feel bad.

Isabelle: You should! For setting the bar so high I can never accept bare minimum effort again!

Max: Good. You deserve better.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles and Lorenzo) 

Isabelle: Reminder—it’s Mother’s Day. Call Maman.

Charles: …Right.

Arthur: Oh. Yeah.

Lorenzo: Was just about to text about that.

Arthur: Did we get her a gift?

Isabelle: Her favorite flowers and the perfume she’s been wanting.

Charles: …We did?

Isabelle: Yes.

Arthur: Perfume? Again?

Lorenzo: Arthur.

Arthur: I’m just saying, it’s kind of boring.

Charles: Yeah, maybe we should’ve gotten something else?

Lorenzo: Like what?

Arthur: I don’t know. A handbag? A candle? Something a bit more exciting?

***

Instagram Post – @/isabelleleclerc

Comments: 

@/charles_leclerc: Happy Mother’s Day to Maman! 💖

@/arthur_leclerc: Love you Maman! You’re the best 💐✨

@/lorenzo_leclerc: Happy Mother’s Day!

@/f1gossipqueen: Such a beautiful tribute, Isabelle! Happy Mother’s Day to Pascale 💐💖"

@/tifosi_in_monaco: Happy Mother’s Day! You’ve clearly been raised with so much love ❤️

@/trackside_tales: That’s the sweetest! Happy Mother’s Day to your beautiful mom ❤️

@/f1_ultimatefan: Your mom must be so proud of you! Wishing her the best Mother’s Day 💖

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Max: Hey Mom, just wanted to make sure the flowers arrived okay and that you liked them.

Sophie: Max, they are beautiful! 💐 Thank you so much for thinking of me. The flowers are stunning, and the sweets were a lovely touch, especially my favorites! The card... well, it made me tear up a bit. ❤️ You really didn’t have to.

Max: Of course I did. It’s Mother’s Day. 😊

Sophie: And I heard you bought something for Victoria too? She texted me already—said you got the exact bag she’d been eyeing for months? How did you even know that?

Max: She mentioned it once during Christmas when I was half asleep on the couch. Guess I wasn’t that asleep.

Max: She’s always there for me, so I thought I’d do something nice for her too.

Sophie: You’re becoming dangerously thoughtful. Should I be worried? 

Max: I’m evolving.

Sophie:  Speaking of evolving… How are things with your girlfriend?

Max:  She’s…

Max: Honestly? She’s kind, and steady, and smart in this quiet way that gets me every time.  She makes everything feel lighter. Even the hard parts.

Sophie: Max.

Max: What.

Sophie: That was almost romantic. Who are you and what have you done with my son?

Max: He’s still here. He’s just tired of being an emotionally constipated Dutchman.

Sophie: Well, I’m proud of you. I’m looking forward to meeting her one day. You deserve someone who makes you happy, Max. Just make sure you don’t wait too long to introduce her to me.

Max: Don’t worry, I’ll bring her home when the time’s right. But seriously, I’m just really happy with her.

Sophie: I can tell. Take care of her, Max. You’re both lucky to have each other.

Max: I will, Mom. Thanks. Love you.

Sophie: Love you too, Maxie.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: He just brought me coffee. Exactly how I like it. Without me even asking.

Emilie: …Okay?

Isabelle: He just knew.

Emilie: Isabelle, you’ve been together for over a month. Of course he knows how you take your coffee.

Isabelle: But I didn’t say anything. He just handed it to me and kissed my forehead like it was normal.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: And now he’s sitting across from me, just existing all content and relaxed, and it’s weird.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: Why is he so nice to me? Why does he just do things for me?

Emilie: BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU.

Isabelle: …but??

Emilie: No. No buts. You deserve this. This is what a relationship is supposed to feel like.

Isabelle: I know that logically. It’s just… I’ve never had this before.

Emilie: You mean, you’ve never been with someone who actually pays attention to you and treats you like you matter without you having to remind them?

Isabelle: …Yes.

Emilie: Yeah. I figured.

Isabelle: It just feels like I should be doing more.

Emilie: You don’t have to earn love, Isabelle. It’s not conditional. You don’t have to do something for him to treat you well.

Isabelle: But I want to do something for him too.

Emilie: That’s different. Wanting to give back because you love him, not because you feel like you owe him, is different.

Isabelle: …How do I stop feeling like I owe him?

Emilie: Time. And maybe letting yourself actually believe that you’re worth all of this without needing to repay it.

Isabelle: …I’m trying.

Emilie: I know. And so does he.

Isabelle: He just put my feet in his lap and started rubbing them like it’s nothing.

Emilie: And let me guess, your brain short-circuited again?

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: Good. Now shut up and let the man spoil you.

***

Max leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching as Isabelle sat on the floor of his apartment, completely lost in play with the cats. She didn’t even notice him.

Sassy was curled up in her lap, purring so loudly Max could hear it from across the room, while Jimmy was perched on the back of the couch, watching with sharp eyes as Isabelle dangled a feather toy just out of reach. She giggled when Jimmy finally pounced, batting at the toy with his paws, determined to “win.”

Max couldn’t help but smile.

There was something about watching her like this—soft, unguarded, completely comfortable—that made his chest ache in the best way. Isabelle, for all her quiet confidence and composed demeanor, had a way of melting around the cats. She whispered to them, scratched behind their ears just the way they liked, and let them nuzzle into her like they’d been hers all along.

Sassy stretched out in her lap, belly up, a clear sign of trust. Isabelle laughed, running her fingers through his fur. “You’re so spoiled,” she murmured.

“Wonder where they get that from,” Max teased.

Isabelle glanced up, startled, as if she’d forgotten he was even there. Her face warmed slightly, but she didn’t move, just kept stroking Sassy’s fur. “Not my fault they like me better,” she said, grinning.

Max huffed a laugh, pushing off the doorway and walking toward her. He crouched down beside her, reaching out to scratch behind Jimmy’s ears. “I think they just know you’re gonna spoil them rotten”

Isabelle playfully nudged him with her shoulder. “You say that like you’re not just as bad.”

Max didn’t argue—because she wasn’t wrong. He spoiled the cats, and now, without even realizing it, he was doing the same with her. Small things: the flowers he sent her, the extra blanket he made sure was always on his couch because he knew she liked to curl up with one, the way he always stocked her favorite tea.

Jimmy finally lost interest in the feather toy and instead padded over to Isabelle, rubbing his face against her arm. She smiled, scratching under his chin as he flopped dramatically onto her lap.

Max just sat there, watching.

His life had always been fast—races, flights, training, the never-ending cycle of the season. But this? Watching Isabelle on the floor of his apartment, surrounded by his cats, like she belonged there?

This was the kind of moment he wanted to hold on to.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles and Lorenzo) 

Charles: Maman’s birthday is next week. What’s the plan?

Arthur: Same as last year?

Lorenzo: Dinner at her place?

Charles: Sounds good.

Arthur: What about a gift?

Lorenzo: Something nice.

Isabelle: I’ll figure it out.

Charles: Perfect.

***

Isabelle: Okay, everything is sorted. Dinner is handled, and I ordered her favorite cake. I also picked out a necklace for the gift.

Charles: Oh, great.

Arthur: Nice.

Charles: This was way easier than I expected.

Arthur: Yeah, that came together fast.

Lorenzo: Good teamwork.

***

Max hadn’t meant to look at her phone. It was just there, sitting on the coffee table, screen lighting up as another message from Lorenzo came in.

“Good teamwork,” it read.

Max frowned. Teamwork, his ass.

Isabelle, curled up at the other end of the couch, didn’t even react. She had a book in her lap, one of the cats purring against her side, completely unbothered.

“You planned the whole thing yourself,” Max said, still staring at her phone.

Isabelle sighed. “Max—”

“No, seriously,” he cut in, looking at her now. “You did all the work, and they don’t even realize it. They just said ‘Good teamwork’ like they did anything.”

She shrugged, turning a page. “That’s how it always is.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “And you’re just okay with that?”

“It’s easier if I do it.”

“That’s not the point.” He sat up, shifting so he was facing her properly. “They should see you, Isabelle. They should appreciate you.”

She didn’t answer. Her fingers absentmindedly scratched behind the cat’s ear.

Max exhaled sharply. “You know that’s not normal, right? They just expect you to handle everything, and you let them.”

She finally glanced up from her book. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Max argued. “You deserve better than being the invisible one in your own family.”

She blinked at him, lips pressing together.

Max softened, reaching over to take the book from her hands and set it aside. Then he tugged her closer until she was against his chest, arms wrapped securely around her.

“I’m going to steal you away,” he murmured into her hair, “and never give you back.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “That’s dramatic.”

She still curled into him, holding on just as tightly.

Max pressed a kiss to the top of her head, resting his chin there for a moment. “I mean it,” he said, voice quieter now. “You don’t have to do everything for them.”

Isabelle sighed, her fingers curling slightly against his shirt. “If I don’t, no one will.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“It is my problem.” She pulled back slightly to look at him. “Because if I don’t, things don’t get done. And then—then it’s just easier if I handle it.”

Max studied her, eyes searching hers. It wasn’t just about their mother’s birthday, and they both knew it.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked softly.

She hesitated. “Since I was a kid,” she admitted eventually. “Lorenzo was always busy, Arthur was younger, Charles had racing… Someone had to take care of things.”

Max exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “And no one ever thought to take care of you?”

Her expression flickered, something like surprise flashing across her face. She didn’t answer, but that was answer enough.

Max swore under his breath and pulled her back against him, wrapping his arms around her again. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be, schat.”

She didn’t say anything, just buried her face in his shoulder.

***

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: So. That was… something.

Emilie: Oh no. What happened?

Isabelle: Max found out how my brothers treat me.

Emilie: Ohhhhhh shit.

Isabelle: Yeah.

Emilie: What did he do??

Isabelle: He got angry. Like, not just annoyed. Not his usual “ugh, Ferrari” face. Like actually angry.

Emilie: …Is it bad that I love that for you?

Isabelle: He kept pacing around, ranting about how they take me for granted, how they never prioritize me.

Isabelle: He was like, “You deserve better than being the invisible one in your own family.”

Emilie: Honestly? Valid.

Isabelle: And then he just—sighed and pulled me into a hug. And said, “That’s not how it’s supposed to be, schat.”

Emilie: Isabelle, I am going to CRY.

Emilie: You realize he’s ready to go to war for you, right?

Isabelle: For the first time in my life, I feel like someone’s actually on my side.

***

Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: Do you ever just want to punch someone?

GP: I work with you. Weekly.

Max: I’m being serious.

GP: …Okay, who do I need to be concerned about?

Max: Isabelle’s brothers.

GP: Charles, Arthur and Lorenzo??

Max: Yes.

GP: What did they do?

Max: More like what they don’t do. They don’t appreciate anything she does for them, and barely acknowledge her unless they need something.

GP: That can’t be right. They seem close?

Max: No. They’re close with each other. Isabelle just gets ignored.

GP: …How bad are we talking?

Max: Bad. Their group chat is a constant barrage of stuff Isabelle does for them without so much as a thanks. Every year, she reminds them about their mother’s birthday, Mother’s Day, everything. Buys the gifts for them. They wouldn’t remember otherwise.

GP: That’s… actually insane.

Max: I know.

GP: Why does she still do all this for them?

Max: Because she loves them. And they don’t even see how much they take her for granted.

GP: …Okay, I get why you want to punch someone.

Max: Thank you.

GP: So what’s the plan? Because I assume you have one.

Max: I take care of her. Since they won’t.

GP: …Yeah, I think that’s a good plan.

Max: I know it is.

***

Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Be honest. Was I ever a bad brother to you?

Victoria: …What? Where is this coming from?

Max: Just answer the question.

Victoria: No, Max. You were annoying, but you were never bad. Why?

Max: Because I just watched Isabelle’s brothers completely forget she existed. And I needed to know if I ever did that to you.

Victoria: …What did they do?

Max: Only notice her when they need something. She reminds them of every holiday, every important date, and then buys their gifts for them so they don’t look bad.

Victoria: You’re joking.

Max: I wish.

Victoria: That’s—what the hell?

Max: Yeah.

Victoria: Oh my god.

Max: So, again. Was I ever like that with you?

Victoria: No, Max. You and I fought, but you never made me feel like I wasn’t part of the family.

Max: Okay. Good.

Victoria: But seriously—how does she put up with that?

Max: Because she loves them. And she keeps hoping they’ll notice.

Victoria: …That’s heartbreaking.

Max: I know.

Victoria: What are you going to do?

Max: The same thing I’ve been doing since we got together. Make sure she never feels like that again.

Victoria: …You really love her, don’t you?

Max: Of course I do.

Victoria: No, I mean—not just in the way you say it. But in the way you see her when no one else does.

Max: She deserves to be seen.

Victoria: Yeah. She does.

Victoria: So, what’s the plan?

Max: Plan?

Victoria: You’re Max Verstappen. You don’t just sit back and let things happen. You’re already scheming. Spill.

Max: It’s not scheming. It’s just… making sure she gets everything they don’t give her.

Victoria: Which means?

Max: I remember her birthday. I get her gifts she actually likes. I make sure she knows she’s appreciated.

Victoria: That’s the bare minimum, Max.

Max: Yeah, well, they don’t even manage that.

Victoria: True.

Max: I just want her to know she’s not invisible. Not to me.

Victoria: She does. I promise you, she does.

Max: I hope so.

***

Isabelle Leclerc had never been so deeply, shamefully down bad.

She knew it the second she opened Instagram and was met with a carousel of Max’s sweaty, post-race pictures. His fireproofs clinging to his torso, curls damp against his forehead, jaw set in that sharp, focused way that made him look unfairly good. She scrolled further—pictures of him on the podium, champagne dripping down his neck, his Red Bull suit unzipped just enough to make her brain short-circuit.

She dropped her phone onto her chest, staring at the ceiling.

"I’m doomed," she muttered.

Sassy, Max’s cat, meowed from her place curled up on Isabelle’s stomach, completely unimpressed with her crisis. Jimmy was sprawled next to her, purring away, blissfully unaware that his owner’s girlfriend was currently struggling with an epiphany she hadn’t been ready for.

Because it wasn’t just that she found Max attractive. Of course she did—she had eyes. But this was the first time she’d ever felt like this. Like she actually wanted. Like she craved more than just stolen kisses and his hands warm on her waist.

And the worst part? Max wasn’t even here to do anything about it.

She groaned, throwing an arm over her face. "This is your fault," she told the cats. "If he hadn’t given me a key to come play with you, I wouldn’t be stuck here thinking about him."

Sassy let out another meow, clearly judging her.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Where do I buy the best lingerie?

Emilie: …Excuse me???

Emilie: Are you finally planning to jump your ridiculously in love, multi-millionaire, world champion boyfriend??

Isabelle: …

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: I tried, okay?!

Emilie: What do you mean you tried??

Isabelle: I mean I tried but he wanted to take things slow!

Emilie: …You’re telling me that Max Verstappen—the man who drives at 300 km/h for fun—wanted to take things slow?!

Isabelle: YES.

Emilie: Are you sure he’s Dutch and not secretly Victorian??

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: No, because I’m actually stunned. You’re telling me you’ve been together for two months, he’s madly in love with you, bought real estate just to see you more, and still hasn’t—

Isabelle: No.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: He said he didn’t want me to think this was just about that. That he wanted to show me he was serious.

Emilie: That’s actually disgustingly romantic.

Isabelle: I know. But also, Emilie, I am going to combust.

Emilie: Oh, I am absolutely taking you shopping.

Emilie: We’re getting you the best lingerie. The kind that makes a man forget the concept of “taking things slow.”

Isabelle: I don’t want to pressure him.

Emilie: Isabelle, babe, I love you, but you could show up in a paper bag and he’d still be obsessed with you. This is just insurance.

Isabelle: Insurance??

Emilie: Yes. For when you inevitably break him.

Isabelle: …

Isabelle: That’s not how insurance works.

Emilie: It is in this scenario. Now, when are you free? We’re going shopping.

Isabelle: You’re way too excited about this.

Emilie: Because I am emotionally invested!! Do you have any idea how rare it is for a man to be this in love and still have the self-control of a monk??

Isabelle: I don’t know whether to be flattered or frustrated.

Emilie: You can be both! But mostly, you can be prepared. Because trust me, the moment he decides he’s ready, you need to be ready.

Isabelle: … I did buy silk sheets.

Emilie: YES, that’s my girl!! Now tell me, what’s Max’s favorite color on you?

Isabelle: Emerald green.

Emilie: Oh, we are going all out.

***

Instagram Story – @/isabelleleclerc

***

Isabelle hadn’t been this nervous in a long time.

Not during presentations, not in meetings, not even the time she accidentally spilled coffee on a potential client’s Hermès bag (it had been black, mercifully, and Max had made her laugh about it later).

But this? Standing in Max Verstappen’s bedroom, bathed in the soft golden glow of his bedside lamp, wearing lingerie she had stared at for weeks before buying? This made her heart hammer so loud she swore he could hear it.

She had planned this—carefully. She knew he was expecting her. She’d texted earlier, promised takeout and a quiet night. That part wasn’t a lie. But the bag of food now sat forgotten on the kitchen counter, and she stood in front of him wearing forest green lace and every ounce of courage she’d been hoarding since their first kiss.

Max didn’t speak.

He didn’t move.

Just stared at her, wide-eyed, lips parted slightly, like he’d forgotten how to function. And for a single, terrifying moment, she thought she’d misjudged everything.

“Say something,” she whispered, her voice far steadier than she felt, her fingers fiddling with the strap of the lingerie. “I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.”

But then—he moved.

In an instant, he crossed the room, hands warm as they settled on her waist, pulling her gently closer. His eyes met hers, and they were nothing short of reverent.

“Not a bad idea,” he said, low and rough. “A very, very good idea.”

Her breath left her in a shaky laugh, part relief, part giddy disbelief. Her hands found the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like she needed something to anchor her.

“You like it?” she asked, her voice small now, almost teasing.

Max swallowed visibly, eyes roaming over her again like he still couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “Isabelle, I think my brain just stopped working.”

That earned a crooked smile from her, some of the nervousness melting into something bolder, flirtier. “That good, huh?”

Instead of answering, Max let his hands drift lower, tracing the curve of her hips, fingers skimming the sheer lace with maddening care. He looked like he was touching something precious. Something rare.

“You did this for me?” he asked, quieter this time. Like it surprised him.

She nodded, heart thudding. “Wanted to surprise you.”

He exhaled slowly, leaned in. Pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her temple. The edge of her mouth.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

The words made something flutter and twist deep in her chest. She arched into him without meaning to, breath catching as his grip on her waist tightened just slightly.

“Then show me,” she whispered.

And the look he gave her after that? Wicked. Worshipful. Dangerous in the best possible way.

Max Verstappen had never turned down a challenge in his life. And from the way he kissed her next, Isabelle knew he wasn’t about to start now.

His mouth met hers with quiet intensity—no rush, no urgency, just the kind of kiss that made Isabelle feel like she was being memorised, piece by piece.

Max kissed her like the world had narrowed to her skin and the space between them.

And God, the way he touched her.

His hands were still firm on her waist, thumbs brushing gently along the edge of lace like he didn’t dare go further without permission, like she was something sacred—not because she was wearing lingerie, but because she was Isabelle.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then lower, over her jaw, down the curve of her neck.

Isabelle let her eyes fall shut, a soft breath escaping her as her hands slid from his shirt to his shoulders, pulling him just a little closer.

“Still thinking this was a bad idea?” he murmured against her skin.

She let out a breathy laugh, fingers threading into the back of his hair. “No. Definitely not.”

Max pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, his expression shifting from teasing to something quieter—like he was checking in, even without asking.

And it struck her again—how different this was from every other time she’d tried to be brave for someone. This wasn’t performance. This wasn’t her trying to prove she was enough.

With Max, she was.

“You okay?” he asked, quietly, sincerely.

She nodded, and that time, it felt real. “Yeah.”

“Good.” His hands moved to cradle her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, his eyes never leaving hers. “Because I want to take my time with you.”

That sentence alone nearly undid her.

She didn’t respond with words—just kissed him again, deeper this time, letting herself lean into it, letting herself feel it.

It was slow. Gentle. Everything she’d dreamed of, and somehow… so much more.

Max kissed her like he had all the time in the world, like the moment mattered more than the destination. His hands slid across her skin like a question, never demanding, only asking. Always waiting. Always listening.

And Isabelle—Isabelle gave herself over to it. To him.

For a while.

Because this was different. Because Max made her feel safe. Because she wanted this.

But even as her body responded—arching into his touch, breath catching when his mouth dragged down her collarbone—something inside her began to unravel.

She didn’t notice it at first. Not really.

It started as a quiet overwhelm. The weight of his hands on her waist. The way he whispered her name like it meant something. The softness in his eyes, the care in every kiss.

He touched her like she was precious. Like she was the most important thing in the world.

And it broke her.

Because no one ever had. Not like this. Not without expectation. Not without making her feel like she had to be performative, or perfect, or grateful.

She gasped—not from pleasure, not from panic, but from the sudden ache of being held so gently.

And then the tears came.

At first, she didn’t realise she was crying. Just a strange heat behind her eyes, a tightness in her throat. She blinked hard and tried to breathe through it, tried to hold onto the moment.

But Max noticed. Of course he noticed.

His hands, which had been skimming her skin, froze. His brow creased, worry flickering across his face. “Schatje,” he murmured, voice impossibly soft. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head quickly, pressing her lips together, embarrassed. “Nothing.”

His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, catching the tear that slipped free anyway. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”

She swallowed hard. “I just…” A shaky breath. “I didn’t know it could feel like this.”

Max went impossibly still. His blue eyes searched hers, something flickering behind them—understanding, frustration, something else entirely. He exhaled slowly, then pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You deserve this,” he whispered. “All of it.”

Isabelle broke.

She curled into him, burying her face in his neck as his arms tightened around her, grounding her, holding her together.

No one had ever held her like this before. No one had ever made her feel like she wasn’t just something to take from.

But Max wasn’t like anyone else.

Max didn’t rush her. He didn’t push or pry. He just held her, one hand smoothing over her back, the other tangling gently in her hair as she clung to him.

Isabelle took slow, shaky breaths, letting herself settle, letting herself believe—that this wasn’t just desire, that Max didn’t just want her for a fleeting moment, that he was here because of her, all of her.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were still damp, but the knot in her chest had loosened. She met his gaze hesitantly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Max frowned immediately. “Why?”

She let out a breathy, almost self-conscious laugh. “Because that’s not exactly what you expect when you bring your girlfriend to bed.”

His expression softened. “Isabelle,” he said, tilting her chin up so she had to look at him. “I don’t care how long this takes. I don’t care if we stop now or in ten minutes or in ten weeks.” His thumb brushed over her cheekbone. “I just want you.”

Something deep inside her cracked open.

Isabelle had spent so long being overlooked, taken for granted, expected to give without ever receiving. But Max didn’t expect anything from her. He just wanted her—whether she gave him pieces or the whole damn thing.

She swallowed hard. “I want this,” she said, and she meant it. She really meant it.

Max searched her face, his fingers tightening slightly on her skin. Then, slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t urgent, wasn’t hurried. It was deep and consuming, felt like something more.

Isabelle melted into it, into him, into the warmth of his body and the way he touched her—carefully, reverently, like she was something to cherish.

And for the first time in her life, she let herself believe she was.

***

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: So.

Emilie: So.

Emilie: I let you run off with a bag full of very expensive and very effective lingerie, and I have received zero updates.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Emilie: I am not a patient woman.

Isabelle: I genuinely don’t know how to process last night.

Emilie: …Good or bad?

Isabelle: I think I need therapy.

Emilie: Therapy???

Isabelle: Emilie, I thought sex was supposed to be uncomfortable. I thought it was normal. To just… grit my teeth and wait for it to be over. To pretend it was fine. To pretend I liked it.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: I’m serious. I thought it was normal for it to be awkward and underwhelming, and that I just had to deal with it.

Emilie: …I suddenly have a burning need to hunt down every single one of your exes.

Isabelle: They didn’t care if I enjoyed it.

Emilie: …What do you mean?

Isabelle: I mean, it was always just about them. Their pleasure. Their satisfaction.

Isabelle: I was just a body.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: It wasn’t just bad—it was awful. Sometimes painful. Almost always embarrassing.

Emilie: Belle.

Isabelle: I thought that was normal.

Emilie: You’re joking.

Isabelle: I used to fake it just to get it over with.

Emilie: What the actual fuck?!

Isabelle: Em…

Emilie: No, because I was expecting you to say like, oh, it was awkward. Or boring. But this?!

Isabelle: I just thought that’s how it was.

Emilie: IT’S NOT.

Isabelle: I know that now.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: It was so different with Max.

Emilie: …Because he actually cares.

Isabelle: Yes. The first time I just…

Emilie: What happened?

Isabelle: I… broke down.

Emilie: Oh, Belle.

Isabelle: I just—panicked. Everything hit me at once.

Emilie: What did he do?

Isabelle: He stopped immediately. Held me. Told me we didn’t have to do anything, that he just wanted me to feel safe.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: And then the next time…

Emilie: He remembered everything.

Isabelle: Every single thing I liked. What made me feel good. What made me feel wanted.

Emilie: Because he pays attention.

Isabelle: Exactly.

Emilie: That’s that racecraft in bed, huh?

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: No, but think about it! The man lives to optimize performance. He knows how to read data, analyze conditions, adjust his approach for maximum efficiency—

Isabelle: STOP.

Emilie: No, because it’s true!

Isabelle: …I mean. You’re not wrong.

Emilie: I KNEW IT.

Isabelle: I hate you.

Emilie: No, you love me. But not as much as you love Max Verstappen blowing your mind every night.

Isabelle: I’M BLOCKING YOU.

Emilie: So tell me everything.

Isabelle: I already told you enough.

Emilie: Isabelle. You literally admitted that every guy before Max made sex feel like a chore, that you had to fake it, and that it was sometimes painful. And then, suddenly, Max comes in?  You owe me details.

Isabelle: It was just… different. From the second he touched me, it was like he was paying attention to every single reaction, every little noise I made. I didn’t even have to say anything—he just knew.

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: And it wasn’t just physical. It was—I felt safe. I wasn’t just a body, I wasn’t just there to be used. He made me feel like I was the most important thing in the world to him.

Emilie: Belle.

Isabelle: I was so nervous at first. I wanted it to be good, I wanted to enjoy it, but I had all these bad experiences in my head, and I kept waiting for it to go wrong.

Emilie: But it didn’t?

Isabelle: No. Because Max—he’s so patient. Even when I got overwhelmed, he just slowed down and made sure I was okay.

Emilie: And then?

Isabelle: And then it was… mind-blowing.

Emilie: Define mind-blowing.

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: I’m serious. Because I need to understand how we went from you faking it to you losing your mind completely.

Isabelle: …Okay.

Emilie: Yes.

Isabelle: So, you know how Max is in the car, right?

Emilie: Oh my god.

Isabelle: The way he reads conditions, the way he adapts in real time, the way he knows exactly when to push?

Emilie: STOP.

Isabelle: It’s the same.

Emilie: I KNEW IT.

Isabelle: I’m serious. He’s so in tune with everything, like he’s constantly adjusting, constantly making it better.

Emilie: He’s optimizing performance.

Isabelle: YES.

Emilie: Max Verstappen. Two-time World Champion. Fastest driver on track, fastest learner in bed.

Isabelle: I am not dignifying that with a response.

Emilie: But you’re not denying it.

Isabelle: …

Emilie: BELLE.

Isabelle: I didn’t even know it could feel like that.

Emilie: Wow.

Isabelle: Like, I thought those romance novels were lying. I thought all that passion and chemistry and overwhelming pleasure was just fake.

Emilie: But then you met Max Verstappen.

Isabelle: He’s just… so good to me. And not just in bed. He takes care of me, he makes me laugh, he listens to me. He actually sees me.

Emilie: I love that. But also, I need to understand the full scope of the dominance we’re dealing with here.

Isabelle: You sound like an F1 journalist trying to analyze Red Bull’s advantage in the regs.

Emilie: I am an F1 journalist trying to analyze Max Verstappen’s advantage in the bedroom.

Isabelle: …I hate that sentence.

Emilie: Okay, but is he like methodical with it? Like does he go in with a strategy?

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: No, I need to know if he’s a precision driver or a send-it-and-hope-for-the-best kind of guy.

Isabelle: …He’s both.

Emilie: EXCUSE ME???

Isabelle: It’s like he’s calculating everything in real-time, but then when the moment’s right—he just commits. No hesitation. No second-guessing.

Emilie: So what I’m hearing is… late-braking masterclass.

Isabelle: I knew you were going to say that.

Emilie: AND I’M RIGHT.

Isabelle: He literally waits until the last possible second, and then it’s like—boom. You can’t react fast enough.

Emilie: So he takes the racing line and the perfect approach angle.

Emilie: I’m just saying, if he starts looking at data after, I’m going to scream.

Isabelle:

Isabelle: …He does kind of ask for feedback.

Emilie: STOP.

Isabelle: And then he actually remembers everything I like.

Emilie: You’re telling me Max Verstappen actively takes notes on how to ruin your life?

Isabelle: Pretty much.

Emilie: If he ever applies this level of dedication to anything else, we’re all doomed.

Isabelle: He already does. It’s called Formula 1.

Emilie: And now he’s doing it to you.

Emilie: I need a moment.

Isabelle: Take your time.

Emilie: …Actually, no, I don’t, because I need to ask the most important question.

Isabelle: Oh, no.

Emilie: How many times?

Isabelle: EMILIE.

Emilie: I NEED TO KNOW.

Isabelle: …four.

Emilie: FOUR?!?

Isabelle: I told you. Life-altering.

Emilie: Max Verstappen is out here setting lap records and you’re only telling me now??

Isabelle: Well, I wasn’t going to text you midway through.

Emilie: I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU.

Isabelle: Thank you. So am I.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: Max Verstappen ruined you.

Isabelle: He rebuilt me.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/paddocktea: Isabelle Leclerc is my Roman Empire and here’s why: 

@/paddocktea: People know her as Charles Leclerc’s baby sister, born right in the middle between him and Arthur. 

@/paddocktea: But there is so much more to her…She’s the most overlooked yet most intriguing Leclerc sibling. She’s always there, always supporting, but somehow, she remains in the background. 

@/paddocktea: And because it’s her 24th birthday today… Here is everything you need to know about Isabelle Leclerc. 

@/paddocktea: While Arthur’s karting career was put on ice to fund Charles’ career, a lesser known fact is that the family also sold Isabelle’s childhood horse to help fund Charles’ racing. 

@/paddocktea: They SOLD HER HORSE. HER. HORSE. To help fund Charles’ career. Like, imagine being 13, losing both your sport and your horse while your brother gets to keep racing. If I were her, I’d still be holding a grudge.

@/paddocktea: …but instead apparently it’s a throwaway line in the family lore that Charles has only ever mentioned once in an interview, while he has mentioned Arthur’s “sacrifice” multiple times. 

@/paddocktea: Still, instead of causing drama, she put her head down and worked. She studied architecture while also being there for every major moment of her brothers’ careers. It wasn’t just about showing up to races—she was always supporting them.

@/paddocktea: The few times she does give interviews? It’s never about her. She just hypes up her brothers. Every single time. No complaints, no bitterness—just, "They work so hard, I’m really proud of them.” If I sacrificed as much as she did, I’d be insufferable, but she’s just so sweet and adores her brothers more than anything else. 

@/paddocktea: Anyway, Isabelle Leclerc is the backbone of the Leclerc family, and I need people to start appreciating her.

↳@/paddockinsider: WAIT. They SOLD her horse to fund Charles’ career?! I did NOT know this. That’s actually insane.

↳@/formulatea: They really said ‘sorry girl, no more childhood joy for you, we gotta get Charles to F1’ 😭

↳@hoofbeatsandcheckeredflags: As a horse girl, I would NEVER forgive them. I would be bringing this up at every family dinner.

↳ @f1drama: No bc imagine your parents sitting you down like ‘hey, your brother needs to go fast so we’re getting rid of your best friend, hope you understand xx’

↳@f1archivist: How did this never make it into Drive to Survive?? Like hello, Netflix, this is PEAK drama.

↳@girlmathf1: They stole her childhood and she still shows up at races supporting them. Isabelle Leclerc is a better person than me fr.

↳@gossipinthepaddock: So you’re telling me Charles got a career and Arthur got a second chance at racing, while Isabelle got… character development???

***

Instagram Post – @/isabelleleclerc

Comments: 

@/charles_leclerc: Happy 24th! 🎂

@/f1fashionista93: Happy birthday, Isabelle! You deserve all the happiness in the world. 💐✨

@/emilie_abadie: Happy birthday to my favorite human! You deserve the best year ahead—can’t wait to see what it has in store for you 💖"

@/leclercsquad_: Happy birthday, Isabelle! I can’t wait to see all the amazing things you do this year! 🎉💐

***

Her phone had buzzed all morning with Leclerc family group chat notifications—heart emojis from Arthur, a single “Joyeux anniversaire x” from Charles, Lorenzo asking if she’d gotten the spa voucher he emailed (“it expires in two months, so use it soon!”), and her mother’s text: “Hope you like the book. And the suit!”

The book was titled “How to Be More Assertive: Owning Your Voice in a Loud World.

The suit was black. Structured. Corporate.

Isabelle had never worn a pantsuit in her life. She barely wore pants, unless she was on a horse or doing pilates.

Arthur’s gift had arrived wrapped in glossy blue paper—inside was a heavy coffee table book about the history of golf. 

Charles had sent an Amazon gift card.

She had smiled. Said thank you in the chat. Told herself they were trying. That they were busy. That this was just how birthdays went for her in her family—slightly impersonal, vaguely thoughtful, and always… a little off.

And it wasn’t like she needed more. Emilie had taken her out the evening before, dinner just the two of them, which had been lovely… and which had ended with a single chocolate cupcake with a lit candle that she had blown out with a huge grin on her face. The two of them had giggled like teenagers and ended up sharing it. 

Emilie had given her a whole basket full of things, like she was always prone to be doing. It was stuffed full with Isabelle’s favourite things, from her favourite bar of chocolate, to her favourite soap, a new bottle of signature perfume (always Miss Dior), new workout clothing, because she had mentioned in an offhand way that the zipper on her favourite jacket kept opening up… filled with the kind of thoughtful little things that Emilie Abadie hoarded like the french dragon with expensive perfume and perfect eyeliner that she was. 

Really, that basket more than made up for anything her family did. 

And now, here she was sitting on the sofa a at Max’s place that evening, sipping her favourite wine in her favourite sweater, legs tucked under her.

She was happy. Completely and utterly content. 

Max came in from the kitchen, a little grin tugging at his lips, something behind his back.

“Okay,” he said, “I know you said you didn’t want anything fancy…”

She narrowed her eyes. “Max.”

“But,” he continued, stepping closer, “you’re turning twenty-four, and that feels like it should come with something a little special.”

He pulled a small velvet box from behind his back.

Isabelle blinked. “Max—”

“Just open it,” he said, sitting beside her. 

She opened the box slowly—and froze.

Inside was a bracelet.

Diamonds and Emeralds connected with delicate gold fixing. The emeralds were a deep, deep green. 

The exact shade of green that lit her eyes when she was excited, or furious, or pretending not to cry during animal rescue commercials.

She didn’t speak.

Max leaned in, his voice softer now. “Emeralds. Because it’s your birthstone. And because every time I see your eyes in the sun, I think—how does that color even exist?”

Her breath caught. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did,” he said. “You’re the easiest person in the world to pay attention to, Belle.”

She bit her lip, suddenly blinking too fast. “It’s beautiful.”

He unclasped it, slid it gently onto her wrist, then lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“You deserve beautiful things. Not because it’s your birthday. Just because you’re you.”

Isabelle didn’t mean to tear up. She really didn’t.

But here was Max—watching her with that look like she mattered—giving her something not just expensive, but personal. Thoughtful. Kind.

She laughed through the tears, wiping at her face. “Sorry. I’m being ridiculous.”

“You’re not,” he said, pulling her into his chest. “You’re just not used to being seen properly. But I see you.”

“I love it,” she whispered. “It’s perfect.”

And she meant it.

Because it wasn’t about the bracelet.

It was the way he saw her.

The way he always did.

Not as the sister. Not as the quiet one.

Not as someone who needed a personality makeover or to be more “assertive.”

Just as Isabelle.

And for once—just once—that was more than enough.

***

Text Conversation: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Max got me a bracelet.

Emilie: Of course he did.

Isabelle: Emilie. It’s emerald.

Isabelle: He said it’s my birthstone and that it matches my eyes.

Emilie: Isabelle, I need you to breathe.

Isabelle: I AM TRYING.

Emilie: This man is not just spoiling you; he is actively ruining you for anyone else.

Isabelle: Right???

Emilie: Send a picture. Now.

Isabelle: Attachment: photo.jpg

Emilie: Holy. Shit.

Emilie: That is not just a bracelet. That is a statement.

Isabelle: What statement?

Emilie: “You are mine, and I will give you the world.”

Isabelle: …

Emilie: You’re staring at it right now, aren’t you?

Isabelle: I haven’t taken my eyes off it since he clasped it onto my wrist.

Emilie: Isabelle.

Isabelle: Emilie.

Emilie: How are you still alive?

Isabelle: Unclear. Might be running purely on shock at this point.

Emilie: I warned you. I told you he was in deep.

Isabelle: I didn’t think this deep.

Emilie: Oh, honey. He is drowning.

Isabelle: What am I supposed to do with this??

Emilie: Love him back. That’s literally all he wants.

Isabelle: …I already do.

***

Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: I thought you were joking.

Emilie: Oh, Max. I wish I was.

Max: Arthur really got her a coffee table book about golf.

Emilie: She doesn’t even like golf.

Max: EXACTLY.

Emilie: I’m convinced he just panic-bought it at the airport.

Max: And Charles… a generic Amazon gift card.

Emilie: Isabelle literally used last year’s gift card to buy presents for other people because she didn’t even want anything from Amazon.

Max: I actually feel secondhand embarrassment.

Emilie: Welcome to my world.

Max: Lorenzo got her a Spa Voucher with only 2 months left on it. I am pretty sure that was a gift he once got. 

Emilie: That’s still better than the self help book her mother bought her “How to be more assertive”. (I mean I guess she tried, she did buy her that new pantsuit…just that Isabelle has never worn a pantsuit in her life. She never wears pants, AT ALL, unless she works out or is at the stables.) 

Max: I— No. I need to sit down.

Emilie: Oh, don’t worry, Max. She’s used to it. That’s what makes it worse.

Max: That’s actually depressing.

Emilie: Right?? I feel like I’m the only one who actually pays attention.

Max: I feel like I need to apologize on their behalf.

Emilie: Oh, you’ve already done enough. You got her a bracelet with emeralds to match her eyes.

Max: That’s just normal? It’s not hard?

Emilie: Max, you put more thought into one gift than her family has in a decade.

Max: Good. She deserves better.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Victoria: So… still in love?

Max: More every day.

Victoria: You’re such a sap.

Max: You asked.

Victoria: I did. Because I knew you’d say something like that.

Max: And yet, here you are, pretending to be surprised.

Victoria: Not surprised, just entertained.

Max: Glad my happiness is amusing to you.

Victoria: Oh, it is. You’re actually just gone.

Max: I know.

Victoria: And you’re fine with that?

Max: More than fine. Best thing that’s ever happened to me.

Victoria: …Wow.

Max: What?

Victoria: Nothing. Just… I’ve never seen you like this.

Max: Me neither. But I don’t want it to stop.

Victoria: Then don’t.

Max: I won’t.

Victoria: Good.

Max: …You’re being suspiciously nice.

Victoria: I can be supportive, you know.

Max: Yeah, but usually there’s teasing first.

Victoria: True. But I don’t think I need to say anything. You’re already completely and utterly done for.

Max: Not wrong.

Victoria: So, when do I get to hear about the inevitable dumb thing you’ll do to impress her?

Max: What makes you think I’ll do something dumb?

Victoria: Max. You bought an entire penthouse just to work with her.

Max: …That’s not dumb. That’s practical.

Victoria: Sure, sure. Practical.

Max: It is! I needed a new place anyway. And I have great taste.

Victoria: She has great taste. You just followed her lead.

Max: …Still counts.

Victoria: Sooo, can I follow your mysterious girlfriend on Instagram yet, or is she still top secret?

Max: …

Victoria: Max. It’s been two months.

Max: And?

Victoria: And I want to know who she is! Give me something. A name? A clue? Anything?

Max: Isabelle.

Victoria: Isabelle what?

Max: …Leclerc.

Victoria:

Victoria:

Victoria: HOLD ON.

Victoria: As in Leclerc-Leclerc?? Like, Charles Leclerc???

Max: Yes.

Victoria: AS IN HIS QUIET LITTLE SISTER FROM KARTING???

Max: Yeah.

Victoria: OH MY GOD.

Victoria: I remember her! She was always at the races! Super quiet, always watching. 

Max: That’s her.

Victoria: AWWWW. MAX.

Max: What?

Victoria: She’s perfect for you! She was always so sweet!

Max: …Thanks?

Victoria: Does Charles know??

Max: No.

Victoria: Max.

Max: Isabelle wants to keep it private.

Victoria: But why??

Max: Her family… it’s complicated.

Victoria: What do you mean? The Leclercs are like, the most wholesome F1 family ever.

Max: Her brothers are close with each other. She just…exists in their periphery and is forgotten 90% of the time. 

Victoria: Max, that’s awful.

Max: I know.

Victoria: And they still don’t know you’re together?

Max: Nope.

Victoria: You haven’t told Charles??

Max: Isabelle doesn’t want them to know.

Victoria: I mean, I get it, but… that’s really sad.

Max: Yeah.

Victoria: But you make her happy?

Max: I try.

Victoria: Good.

Victoria: But just so you know, when this does come out, Charles might actually explode.

Max: I know.

[cripplecharacters]

Hi, Im writing two autistic characters and I would like some advice for their backstory. I myself am autistic and Im using them to project my own experiences, but Id like to ask for some outside opinions as well. The two characters are twins, the sister was always better at masking than the brother, who also had really bad sensory issues. In the future they ended up having a falling out when their friend group all goes out to a concert, and the brother can’t enjoy it because the noise hurts his ears. Afterwards they go to a restaurant and they have an arguement because the brother can’t eat the food due to his sensory issues (keep in mind neither of them are diagnosed) and they’ve been on not the best terms since and low contact. The main reason why its such a big deal is because it was meant to celebrate one of their friends (brother’s best friend) getting into their dream college.

Their story basically tackles the brother learning that he isn’t a burden on the people around him, while the sister also tackles her own internalized ableism.

Hi asker,

So their backstory seems to me, based on the information I have from this ask, that the sister is generally being at least somewhat ableist towards her brother. And since they are both undiagnosed, there's also an element of not understanding sensory needs (especially the brother's) because they aren't necessarily attributing it to being a disability trait. Since the sister masks more than the brother, perhaps she is seeing his sensory issues as something he should be able to control or something of the sort. And the event you describe is kind of the tipping point for their relationship.

Please correct me if I'm wrong there, by the way.

So, I'm not sure on advice on what specifically you want regarding the backstory, but it does seem like a pretty realistic situation, especially in regards to the way you want the story to go. It seems like it's open for character development for both the characters, and probably the friends too.

As a note to your story, not the backstory, internalized ableism is mostly about being ableist to yourself. Disabled people can be ableist to other disabled people, sometimes as a result of internalized ableism and sometimes it's just entirely externalized ableism. The sister does I bet have internalized ableism about herself, and can be ableist towards her brother and his needs. If you want her to address her internalized ableism, she should probably address ableist behavior she's had towards her brother, too.

Some general questions I have that you might want to ask yourself are:

what exactly bothers the sister so much about this? yes, it's about their friend getting into their dream college so i can get that she's mad they didn't celebrate 'accordingly,' but is there anything else?

what does the brother say or do when he gets invited to things like the concert or the restaurant where he can't eat anything? did he know he wouldn't be able to enjoy them? was he hoping to anyway? did he not know and is just finding out how hard that was going to be for him?

what does the brother feel about how his sister has acted? likewise, what does the sister feel about how her brother acted?

do either of them ever figure out they're autistic?

what do the friends feel like about the falling out? they were there. and the way the friends feel and react likely affects how Brother and Sister feel and react as well -- friends can take sides, try to stay out of it, etc.

you say the sister is better at masking than the brother. how does she feel about that? how does she feel about masking? what exactly does she have to mask?

how does the brother feel about his own masking ability? about his sister's ability to do the same?

also, do either of them understand this as masking or is it more of a "i'm sure everyone's doing this all the time. whatever" type of situation?

By the way, I put these questions not because I think you haven't posed any of these questions to yourself already. You probably have asked yourself at least some of them, and know probably many of the answers even if you haven't specifically asked yourself the question.

Mostly I'm putting them out there because answering them and/or knowing you already have the answer can help you like, feel comfortable in how you are telling the story and characterizing these characters.

You currently seem to have a pretty reasonable starting point that makes sense within the story you want to tell. This feels like something that, yeah, that could just happen in real life, and probably has. I think that's likely what you were going for, from what I can gather, so, that would work out!

Hope this helps,

mod sparrow

[cheemscakecat]

I have a headcanon that the reason Jestrellabraum told Ford “You have the face of the man destined to defeat Bill.” is because he needed to believe he had a chance. So he would keep moving, and end up exactly where and when the portal reopened.

To me it always felt like Stanford thinks he’s an awful person for ever trusting Bill. And that the only way to redeem himself is to kill Cipher. He didn’t believe he could be forgiven by strangers or family or God, not without fulfilling this mission.

Ford has an ego, but it’s fed by insecurities and self doubts and the weight of his mistakes. He didn’t understand that it was far worse to be distant and cold to Stan than to admit his past with Bill.

Anyone else would be able to see he’s sorry he trusted that monster, and trying to make up for it. That he’s a good person despite his flaws, but Stanford didn’t get that. It’s wasn’t good enough, nowhere near good enough.

To me, the Oracle was told to speak that way by God, or I guess the Axolotl (I’m Christian)

Ford needed to be guided towards Stanley, not succeed in his self-inflicted redemption. But if he was told he wouldn’t be the one to kill Cipher, it would absolutely crater him. If he can’t redeem himself, what hope is there?

I’m sure she wanted to tell him that he isn’t required to defeat Bill to be a good person. God doesn’t want him to put himself through that. And that she, despite being a former henchmaniac, found peace and redemption without a mission like his.

But it wouldn’t have worked. He wasn’t ready and she wasn’t the right person for the job. Ford needed to stop pushing people way and be saved by the person he hurt the most.

Stanford needed to be safe in Gravity Falls, with Cipher finally locked away where he couldn’t torment him again. Needed to see his family still love him after reading the book of Bill, reading what happened to him.

That, and Stan languished for 30 years looking for his twin. His mission needed to actually succeed. Even if Ford didn’t react well to it, him being back would at least take some of the stress and sleep deprivation away.

Stanley needed to know he’s a good person too, he felt like a screw up his whole life. And personally defeating Cipher would make it a little easier to stomach the Book of Bill. “Yes Ford got abused, but I shattered the monster who did it into a million tiny pieces.”

Also Stan being safe in Gravity Falls for 30 years, instead of homeless and getting hunted down by old enemies. Not being in conflict with the local cryptids, having Soos and Wendy around as an encouragement, people who care.

Now Stan has his brother in case anyone from his past does try to get him on their trip. He gets to finally sail, and knows wherever Bill is, he’s not happy snd trying to hide it.

Anyways, enough of me yapping.

You know what this has been taking over my thoughts for a while so might as well get it out. This is going to be long so buckle up if you want.

There's something I never see mentioned in fics or anywhere else and that's the fact that Stanford was homeless for 30 years. Sure he was traveling from dimension to dimension but from what I can tell Ford was doing basically the exact same thing that Stan had been doing homeless for 10 years if not worse.

He can rationalize it away as all done for the greater good but Ford was a wanted criminal in what seems like hundreds of entire dimensions and likely not allowed to return to many (if he even could) much like Stan was banned from multiple states.

He had a huge bounty on his head and had to be paranoid and careful and on the run constantly just like Stan had been when he owed people like say Rico money.

The biggest difference I can see is that Where Stan was trying to both survive but also make those millions so he'd be worth something to his family and maybe they'd take him back, Ford wasn't expecting to get out of this alive.

Sure he was working towards killing Bill with this singular focus but it seems like Ford was fully expecting to die in the process. Ford fancied himself the hero sure but he was fully prepared to not make it out of that alive.

I actually think that, that whole mindset started even before he fell through the portal. He'd been tormented by Bill physically and mentally for at minimum a month by this point if not longer so when he was desperate enough to reach out for help from Stan. If Stan had taken his journal and left like he wanted I don't think Ford was planning on living much longer. To him there was no way out and if for all his smarts he'd still fallen for Bill's tricks.

For as much as he tried to cover it up he was still terrified that Bill could get to and hurt Stan. He didn't think he was worth saving but the world and everyone/everything was. Unless someone else stepped in I fully believe that Ford would have done something drastic if Stan had taken the journal and left that would have ended in his own death but at least everyone would be safe from Bill. Had no one stepped in in any case.

And I think that carried over on the other side of the portal. His single goal was to kill Bill, and it very much seems like he was prepared and ready to die doing so. He was already doing something drastic.

All this to say I think among all the new quirks and changes that Stan sees, I think he'd see some habits and things he did while he was homeless in Ford. Given enough time while on the ship I think they'd bond more over those shared experiences, and spot those key differences as well.

I think these things could be taken advantage of a bit more.

[radskull-69]

SELF INSERT X PETE DINUNZIO

I accidentally made the hat blue, it was supposed to be green.. whoopsie.

anywho, I’m thinking ab making radley (self inserts name) into an alien fanatic over anything else, and maybe a bit of a robot fan too.

Undiagnosed autistic boy who was accused of being a ‘robot from outer space’ growing up for how different he was, (like from the move ‘meet Dave’)

he now thinks he’s a robot.

Italian and kiwi, is really pale and has darker hair then the rest of his family since he doesn’t leave his room a lot.

pathetically weak, like, has a terrible iron deficiency and whines about the softer punches thrown at him, skinny too, the complete opposite of his older brother.

never takes his hate off.

thinks comics are made by the government and are actually about secret experiments they plan on making real (he’s a theorist-)

thinks cats are aliens, thinks the Eltingville club is super cool and wants to join but isn’t allowed to (I mean look at him-)

try’s to communicate with stray cats to get them to spill mars’ secrets (and to pet them)

plays softball but is terrible at it, likes to draw a lot too.

has older brother who is sorta buddies with the club members since he too is a comic reading incel, drags Radley to the comic book store to ‘educate’ him.

also has three little sisters, so he’s basically the middle child.

particularly close with Jerry the most, likes to ramble out dnd oc’s though radley has never played the game.

is online friends with Josh and they talk about space and alien movies, like Star Wars, and like to review or show eachothers fanfiction, they don’t know they’re online friends tho when they see eachother irl since their accounts remain anonymous.

is on Pete’s good side since radley is always up to watch a horror movie, even though it gives him terrible nightmares and paranoia, he’s more interested in the special effects and making of movies then anything. But he does find monsters cool at least.

Dresses up as a green character every year for Halloween.

for every science assessment he either makes a classic planetarium with small balls, or makes a tiny functioning rocket ship.

‘Plays’ with his action figures, has been ruthlessly bullied for it when he was caught by his brother.

Doesn’t know he ain’t straight yet, the only reason he even buys comics (aside from his brother forcing him to) is because he finds the men in the comics hot.. (lobo, hellboy, joker, most dc heroes..)

has mini binoculars on him at all times (to stare at the moon, and girls.. and boys.)

got braces wayyyy too late, is now 16 and he finally has them. Yeesh.

has his ears pierced but was called gay so he doesn’t wear them anymore, the holes closed up and he’s sad ab it :(

thanks to him being Italian he’s really hairy everywhere BUT his face, cannot grow any facial hair and is really envious of his brother and Pete.

works at the comic book store despite his beliefs, doesn’t like joe that much but is a suck up. Is good friends with iron jaw, the customers call him ‘metal maw’ to match due to their braces.. he doesn’t mind too much tho.

secretly likes mlp, relates to fluttershy the most.

[tako-cafe]

Omegaverse AU

ground work: Betas = they are just a guy. They get to have average sex and development. You also can exhibit traits physically and in personality of one or the other. Omega does = having pussy in this,but gender and genitals are not related. The boys are still boys basically. Heat and rut are on a once a month cycle like a period. Alpha -> Omega is a spectrum in this. also im not adding in ortho, he couldn't have one anyway

Staff:

Trein is an omega but he hasn't been able to have a heat in a few years by now. He raised the girls still as always. Though him being heatless has not stopped Crewel from cornering him many times over.

Crewel is an alpha and I feel like it was so obvious. He is peak material for going all in on the animal instincts too. He hasn't claimed anyone as his partner but does kinda sleep around to keep his rut in check (including bending over Crowley and Trein) He can be a little more aggressive and strict but he isn't cruel. He just likes obedient subs.

spoilers Crowley is an Omega yeah. His headmage work is him trying to compensate by being in a position of power, but he also refuses to do anything to help or suppress his heat so Crewel ends up in his office every time.

I was between what to do with Sam but I leaned to Alpha with a lighter rut. He is one of the few who can actually work through his without much of an issue. Lower sex drive + he's just good at staying busy.

Vargas is a beta. Everyone stereotyped him as an alpha. No, He's just kinda like that...

Heartslabyul:

Riddle is a beta and everything he does in canon was him thinking he had to compensate for not being the best at birth (alpha) like his mom was.

Trey an alpha and we all know it. I'm just correct.

Cater is an omega but he has something wrong where he goes into heat double the amount he's meant to. Instead of once a month his is twice a month. (Trey being his roommate is very helpful in this) Cater and Trey have somewhat synced up cycles. Trey is synced up to the early on in the month one, he chooses to help Cater through the one later on.

Ace is an omega and he is pissed about it. He hates it. His brother is an alpha and absolutely puts down omegas so it gave Ace a lot of issues around him being one.

Deuce is an alpha only because I thought it was funny since Ace would hate it. Deuce and Ace have accidentally synced up heat and rut cycles being roommates. Ace tries to play it off that he can handle his heat alone but ends up having Deuce help him every month.

Savanaclaw:

Leona is an obvious alpha but he's an example of a power bottom one. He doesn't really top much/at all. He is in control, but just from under his partner.

Speaking of partner his current one is omega Ruggie. Ruggie doesn't mind doing so much work because he can sometimes convince Leona to let him use a strap. Leona won't admit he does like it a lot.

Jack is not only an omega but that man is destined to be a house husband one day. Whoever he bonds with is lucky because he will be super dedicated and loving to his mate.

Octavinelle:

Tweels are both alphas and the ones who ended up the most aggressive in rut out of anyone. the mermen have a little quirk as well that they aren't limited to one bond so each of them seek out multiple partners like prey. little spoilers but they do share Azul. Floyd has hands and everything else in Ace and Jamil. Jade has a slightly smaller sex drive so he's only sought out Epel when he can't have Azul. Both of them are synced up.

Azul like I said is an omega the tweels have claimed from very early on (and someone else has as well but we will get there) He started his heat fairly young and the tweels found him knew they'd never be bored again. Embarrassingly for Azul seeing them in that state made him ink..which the tweels never let him live down. Mermen also have their own cycle which has them working on a 3 week schedule. Azul while seeming like someone who would take a suppressant only doesn't because the tweels got it in his head he's just be weak again if he can't work through his heat. After all what if he can't fill it one day? He needs to learn to handle it and stop being so pathetic and whiny when it hits. (He does not learn)

Scarabia:

I'll start with Jamil since I already said he's an omega. He is our first one who's on some form of suppressant. He just forgets to take it more often than not from working so much. Between school and Kalim he neglects himself fairly often in this aspect. These times are when he regrets it since Floyd always seeks him out..

Kalim is another beta. I'm going as far as his whole family always has been too. They are a rare family who has only ever been beta's. They only remained in power off their impressive wealth really. I did keep the magic system in this so his families rise to wealth is the same as canon.

Pomefiore:

Vil is an omega and also on heat suppressants and has been since his first one. He keeps a strict schedule on taking them because of his work. The only time he can't is if they can't be filled on time which has caused a rare issue.

Epel will be an omega..he just is a late bloomer. He's hoping he gets to go into rut but he won't and he is going to hate going into heat. His heat is going to start during spelldrive of all places as well so he's in for a real fun time when he finally has his first one.

So I debated between alpha or beta for Rook..both have merits for me but I landed on alpha if only for the idea he would be terrifying. You think his senses are scary strong now? He can smell across the whole campus and tell you who's in heat at any and all times. He's fairly soft with Vil, but oh he is rough on Epel. Rook is one I don't think he's going to bond with a mate..he is however going to hunt down any omega like prey. The hunter prefers a game over being settled down.

Ignihyde:

Idia is a fun case for us. He's an alpha with an omega personality. He is just as pathetic and whiny as Azul but in a way he comes off so self-deprecating instead. He hate's he isn't a beta because it would be so much easier than this stupid rut. His curse renders all suppressants useless so he can't even take anything to help. He's taken his rut out on Azul more than he's like to admit but really is it his fault Azul smells so good? He isn't proud of it and he doesn't like it and he makes it known. Calls himself "filthy" "a disgusting otaku" "just a perverted loser" He's such a boyfail and Azul hates its hot. They aren't together though, Idia isn't sure he can bond and Azul sure as hell does not want to be bonded when he's so ambitious.

Diasomnia:

Getting our beta out the way. It's Silver. No funky pheromones for the princess boy I'm sorry guys.

Sebek though? Omega and PISSED. It was bad enough he isn't even fully fae and now hes also not the alpha? He does however lean more to the alpha personality but some of that was a product of how he was raised. It's more common for his type of fae to be alphas so even when an omega pops up they tend to still have a few lingering personality traits of an alpha.

Lilia is an omega that old man twink is breedable baby. Or I should say used to be breedable he stopped getting heats about a hundred or so years ago. Bat fae are nearly all omega's so it wasn't a shock that he was, but it was deeply loved by Baur who definitely had his fun with the general~ Old man yaoi for the win

Predictably Malleus is an alpha but because it wasn't someone from his family who finally hatched him but instead Lilia he ended up with some omega personality traits. He can get a little sentimental about his object of affection. He's a little pathetic as a treat.

[fear-is-truth]

Bestie hehe whose pullout game is worst and whose is best out of the characters Evan plays???

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑽𝑨𝑵𝑺 — 𝑷𝑼𝑳𝑳-𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march ‧ kai anderson ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel — nsfw ; MDNI 18+

a/n: hey bestie i love your mind

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍. (3/10)

his intentions are good. his execution? terrible. pull-out game is WEAK purely due to incompetence.

“fuck—wait, wait, oh shit, i was supposed to—”

feels guilty as hell afterward. “you don’t think i did it on purpose, right? you believe me, don’t you?”

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑. (2/10)

kit TRIES to be responsible. really, he does. but he’s also a man who fucks deep and loves even deeper.

a very passionate lover and in the heat of the moment, he forgets everything else.

honestly, he doesn’t even try that hard.

if you reminded him, he’d listen. but if you didn’t? yeah, he’s finishing inside.

if you got pregnant, he’d step up immediately. his pullout game is terrible but he’s a great dad.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑. (10/10)

doesn’t take risks; he’s got a good head on his shoulders.

his timing and self control are actually great. the pull-out game is strong with this one.

even before he met you, kyle doesn’t sleep around like most of his frat brothers, even though he totally could.

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆. (6/10)

jimmy knows he can’t afford to be reckless. he’s working in a freak show—not exactly the best place to raise a kid.

he also worries about passing on his ectrodactyly. even though you tell him constantly that it doesn’t matter.

most of the time, he cums on your tits or ass.

but when he’s drunk, he’s super impulsive, emotional. all self control flies out the window.

if you got knocked up, he’d have a mini breakdown and go on a two day bender but would also step up.

he will also propose immediately (after he gets his shit together)

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇. (10/10)

he is nothing if not disciplined.

if james ever decided to give you an heir, that decision was made long before the act.

lowkey has reservations because of bartholomew.

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍. (0/10)

kai never pulls out. he never intended to in the first place.

at first, he’ll act like it was an accident—just for plausible deniability. he’ll moan about how tight you are, how good you feel, and then when it happens:

“fuck—couldn’t help it. you feel too good, baby.” he’s fake guilty, kissing your shoulder, murmuring “next time i’ll pull out, promise.”

next time never came. (but he did. inside you) at some point, he just stopped pretending.

“this is how it’s supposed to be. why would i waste it anywhere but inside you?”

if you tell him you’re not ready for kids, he’ll say “women are biologically wired to want children. you’re just brainwashed by feminism.” (i hate this guy)

0/10 cos he’s actively TRYING to fail.

if you got pregnant? he’d be ecstatic.

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅. (5/10)

thinks he has great control, but he really, really doesn’t.

he’ll pull out last second. but he cuts it close EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

sometimes he miscalculates timing.

“uh. okay, okay—don’t freak out, but I MAY have just—wait, are you on the pill?”

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋. (9/10)

very responsible. colin respects boundaries and never pressures you into risky sex. always wears condoms unless you explicitly ask not to.

“you sure? ‘cause, uh, i got condoms—like, a lot. not a weird amount, just… y’know, normal.”

lowkey wants to have kids with you… but suppresses the “selfish” fantasy.

his one weakness? when he’s tipsy.

the one time you were both drunk, making out on the couch, which led to hot and sloppy sex. you felt so good and he was so lost in it, and then—

“oh, shit.”

immediate panic. full-body guilt. buys you plan b, also flowers and coffee because he feels guilty.

overall he’s very reliable, just that one slip-up.