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cressidagrey · 5 days ago

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White Horse - Chapter 21: June 2024 - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

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

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

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

Warnings and Notes:

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

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

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/F1GossipQueen: DID CHARLES JUST REALIZE MID-INTERVIEW THAT HE FORGOT HIS OWN SISTER’S BIRTHDAY??? HELP LMAO

@/monacosfinest: "Wait… we forgot." Nah, Charles, YOU forgot. The whole damn family forgot. How do you ALL forget???

@/f1tea:The way Charles’ whole face DROPPED when he put the dates together… This is cinema.

@/isabellesimpgc: This man just short-circuited ON CAMERA realizing he forgot his little sister’s birthday. I would be in hiding.

@/horsegirlupdates: ISABELLE WAS AT THE MONACO GP. SHE CELEBRATED WITH THEM. SHE SAID NOTHING. SHE JUST LET THEM ALL FORGET. I’M SICK.

@/f1trolls:Charles: "Do you have my phone? I need to fix this." Bro, there is no fixing this.

@/girlinthepaddock: The fact that Isabelle hasn’t posted ANYTHING since Monaco…

@/charlesleclercfans:Charles, buddy, you’re not getting out of this one 💀

@/f1chaos:Charles really went from “living his childhood dream” to “realizing he was the worst brother in real-time” in under five seconds. Iconic.

@/monacoprincess:The way he literally STOPPED TALKING, STARED INTO THE VOID, and then went, "Wait… we forgot." BRO. YOU FORGOT. YOU.

@/paddockgirlies:Isabelle spent her whole life supporting her brothers and they couldn’t even remember her birthday??? She didn’t even TELL them they forgot, she just let them be happy while she suffered in silence. I’M SICK.

@/girlwhocriessports: Okay but imagine being Charles and realizing ON LIVE TV that you forgot your sister’s birthday while the entire world watches. This is worse than any DNF he’s ever had.

@/ferrariwoes: Charles, in Monaco: "This is the best day of my life!"Charles, two weeks later in Canada: "Oh my god, I forgot my sister’s birthday."

@/isabellesimp: She just kept quiet and let them all forget. She didn’t even correct them. She probably just went home alone and cried. Do you understand how HEARTBREAKING that is????

@/paddockinsider: Ferrari’s biggest strategy blunder this year wasn’t even on the track—it was the entire Leclerc family forgetting Isabelle’s birthday.

@/F1TeaSpiller: Not Charles Leclerc realizing DURING AN INTERVIEW that he forgot his own sister’s birthday… and then Arthur and Lorenzo probably finding out THROUGH HIM. This family is actually unbelievable.

🔗 Clip attached

@/GridGossip:So let me get this straight:

Isabelle was in Monaco the entire weekend.

She celebrated Charles’ win with him.

She didn’t say a word about her own birthday.

And not a single one of her brothers remembered.

They really just treat her like she doesn’t exist, huh?

@/TifosiDrama:Not a single post. Not a single mention. She was right there, and they STILL forgot. I don’t blame her for ignoring them now.

@/OversteerObsessed: So you’re telling me Isabelle’s birthday was on the same day as Charles winning Monaco for the first time ever, and they were so caught up in the win that they just… forgot about her?? I’m actually speechless.

@/FormulaShady: The Leclerc brothers are about to have the worst sibling PR disaster in F1 history. Isabelle is LITERALLY the forgotten Leclerc.

@/WheelyFastWAGs: Isabelle spent years supporting her brothers—showing up to races whenever she could, celebrating their successes—and they can’t even remember her BIRTHDAY?!

@/TyreDegAndDrama: No, but let’s really sit with this: she was literally there. Not far away. Not off somewhere else. She was in Monaco, with them, and not one person thought, “Oh hey, it’s Isabelle’s birthday.”

@/OvercutOverload: Charles’ brain loading like an old Windows XP computer when the journalist asked about winning on his sister’s birthday.

@/Lap1Carnage: I need you all to understand how humiliating this is. You are a public figure. You win Monaco. A journalist gives you the perfect setup to say something nice about your sister. And instead, you find out ON LIVE TV that you forgot her birthday.

@/TifosiTears: I would like to formally apologize to Isabelle for ever associating her with the rest of them. She deserved better.

@/ChaosMode: The fact that fans remembered her birthday but her own brothers didn’t… Yeah, I’d be ignoring them too.

@/PaddockClownery: Imagine your family finally realizing they forgot your birthday WEEKS LATER because a journalist had to remind them. The bar is in hell.

@/F1BurnerAccount: The way he didn’t even tried to play it off like “Oh yeah, we celebrated privately” or something. Just full, raw realization on live TV.

@/F1Shambles: The fact that Isabelle has been radio silent on social media ever since Charles’ Monaco win is crazy. Not a single like, comment, or post. Just pure, calculated silence.

@/F1Shambles: The worst part? She did congratulate Charles. She literally posted on her story, “So proud of you, Charles!” right after the race, and then? Poof. She disappeared.

@/TifosiTears: No, because the fact that Isabelle still took the time to post a congrats for Charles, even after they forgot her birthday, and then just vanished is so much worse.

@/Lap1Carnage: So you’re telling me she remembered her brother’s biggest moment, but not a single one of them remembered her birthday? Yeah, no, that’s insane.

@/PaddockDrama: She posted for Charles, probably waited the whole day for someone to remember, and then dipped. That’s actually heartbreaking.

@/FrontWingDamage: Okay, but like… does anyone know if she had people around her that day? Like, friends? A boyfriend? Someone who did remember?

@/TyreDegAndDrama: I need to believe that someone in her life actually gave her the love she deserved that day, because if she spent it completely alone while celebrating Charles?? I will LOSE IT.

@/LightsOutDrama: It’s actually insane that her whole family was busy celebrating Charles, and not one of them was like, “Oh wait, isn’t today also Isabelle’s birthday?”

@/PaddockGossip: At this point, I’m praying she has some secret friend group or a boyfriend who treated her like a queen that day, because her family really did nothing.

@/ChaosMode: We need a national investigation into Isabelle Leclerc’s inner circle. I refuse to believe that nobody took care of her that day.

@/WDCworthy: What if she’s actually in a happy, secret relationship and her boyfriend was the only one who celebrated her? Imagine the plot twist.

@/PaddockMess: I swear if she had to spend her birthday alone, while her whole family was out celebrating Charles, I’m gonna start swinging.

@/OvercutOverload: The fact that she stayed silent instead of calling them out makes it so much worse. She didn’t even fight them on it. She just… left.

@/TyreWhisperer: This whole thing is giving “quietly heartbroken but won’t let it show” energy, and I hate it here.

@/PaddockBanter: Honestly, I don’t even need her to forgive them. I just want her to be happy with people who actually appreciate her.

@/LightsOutSlander: Praying she has a secret billionaire boyfriend who flies her around on private jets and showers her in designer gifts, because her family clearly isn’t doing their job.

@/PaddockRoyalty: This woman is literally giving “soft-spoken princess energy.” I need her to have a rich, older boyfriend who treats her like absolute royalty.

@/IsabelleLeclercFanclub: Forget the Leclerc brothers. We’re officially in our Protect Isabelle at All Costs era.

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Charles Leclerc

Charles: I just realised. I just—I can’t believe I forgot. Your birthday. Monaco. You were there. And we didn’t say a word. I didn’t say a word.

Charles:You smiled at me. You waved. And I didn’t even remember it was your day. I’m so, so sorry.

Charles: Please call me. Please. I need to talk to you.

Charles: I didn’t mean to forget. I swear. I didn’t— God, Isabelle. Please just pick up.

[Incoming Call: Charles Leclerc → Belle Verstappen] Status: No answer. Call forwarded to voicemail.

Charles (Voicemail): Isabelle, it’s me. Please pick up. I know I don’t deserve that right now but I… I need to hear your voice. I need to know you’re okay. We messed up. I messed up. I forgot the one day I shouldn’t have. And I didn’t even notice. I don’t know how I let that happen. I love you. Please… just call me back. Please.

***

Text Messages: Emilie Abadie & Max Verstappen

Emilie: He finally realized. Charles. The birthday. Belle. It hit him. Live. On camera. Mid-interview. It was honestly Oscar-worthy.

Max: wait what

Max: CHARLES REALISED??

Emilie: Karun Chandhok brought it up during the post-race interview and you could see the panic download into his brain in real time. I watched it happen. It was magnificent.

Max:Since when are you watching press conferences?? You once told me F1 was “cars doing ring-around-the-rosy with ego problems.”

Emilie: I still stand by that! But I had a feeling someone was going to slip. And I was right.

Max: Belle hasn’t texted me yet.

Emilie: Same. I tried calling. Went straight to voicemail. I’m going over. She might not answer the door but I’m staying the night either way.

Max: Thank you. Really

Emilie: She’s my best friend. You think I’d leave her to spiral alone while the entire Leclerc clan is just now realizing they’ve been garbage?

Max: I’m so pissed, Emilie. They made her feel invisible. And now they’re shocked she walked away?

Emilie: They don’t get to play the concerned family card after a year of not seeing her. After missing her birthday.

Max: She was right there. In the garage. She waved at Charles.

Emilie: And he smiled right through her. I’ve never wanted to throw an expensive shoe at someone more.

Max: you should’ve I would’ve paid the fine

Emilie: Consider it noted for next time.

Max: Let me know when you’re with her Tell her I love her Tell her I am coming straight home.

Emilie: I’ll tell her.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Pascale)

Charles: guys GUYS we forgot Belle’s birthday

Charles: we forgot her birthday it was TWO WEEKS AGO she was IN THE GARAGE IN MONACO

Arthur: wait what …wait WHAT

Pascale: Charles, what are you talking about? We didn’t— … Oh mon dieu.

Charles: she didn’t say anything she just stood there and none of us said a word

Arthur: okay wait has anyone spoken to her since then?

Charles: I texted her about Canada no reply

Pascale: She hasn’t answered me either.

Arthur: I haven’t heard from her since I asked if she was coming to the factory visit. That was like… the week after Monaco?

Charles: she hasn’t answered ANY of us?? FOR TWO WEEKS??

Lorenzo: I just caught up. I’m going to her apartment. Right now.

Charles: please tell her I’m sorry tell her I didn’t mean to forget I didn’t—

Arthur: we all did, Charles don’t make it sound like it’s just you

Pascale: This isn’t about blame. It’s about fixing it.

Lorenzo: I’ll message when I get there. Don’t blow up her phone. Let me check she’s okay.

Charles: okay thank you

Arthur: tell her we love her please

Lorenzo: I’ll handle it. Let me talk to her. Just… give her space. Don’t crowd her all at once.

Charles: Okay. Please let us know when you get there.

***

Call & Message Log – Belle Verstappen’s Phone

(Missed Calls and Messages – All timestamps in Monaco Time)

Incoming Calls:

Charles Leclerc (19:02) – Missed Call → Voicemail Left

Arthur Leclerc (19:15) – Missed Call

Emilie Abadie (19:20) - Missed Call

Pascale Leclerc (19:27) – Missed Call

Arthur Leclerc (19:39) – Missed Call

Pascale Leclerc (20:01) – Missed Call → No voicemail

Arthur Leclerc: 19:17

Belle, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise either. I don’t even know how we missed it. Please text me back. I’m freaking out a little.

19:22

Are you okay? Please just say something. Anything.

20:03

I’m so sorry. We were idiots.

Pascale Leclerc: 19:25

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

20:12

We didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to forget. I love you, mon ange.

***

The sun had dipped low behind the Monaco rooftops, casting the living room in honeyed gold. The windows were cracked open, letting in the hum of the sea and the occasional passing scooter. The only sound inside the apartment was the faint, rhythmic purr of cats.

Belle was asleep on the couch, curled sideways with a throw blanket tangled around her legs. One of Max’s hoodies was pulled over her tank top, far too big on her and smelling faintly of motor oil and cedarwood. Sassy was curled on her feet, Lilly sprawled along her hip like a guard, and Jimmy had claimed the pillow beside her head, face pressed dramatically into her hair like he paid rent.

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She’d only meant to rest her eyes.

But the last few days had caught up with her: the tension, the silence, the weight of being both forgotten and known too well.

The buzz of the apartment buzzer stirred her cats but not her. Only when Emilie let herself in—quietly, using the key Belle had given her months ago—did Sassy finally stretch and jump down, tail flicking as if to say you’re late.

Emilie padded through the flat on socked feet, arms full of a canvas tote bag stuffed with snacks, a fuzzy blanket she’d stolen from Belle’s apartment once and never returned, and a bottle of overpriced juice she insisted helped with “emotional hydration.”

She spotted Belle still asleep, cats half-glued to her like warm, fuzzy armor, and her heart cracked open.

Of course Belle had fallen asleep like this. Of course she hadn’t answered her phone.

Emilie set the tote on the coffee table and sank to her knees beside the couch, brushing a strand of hair from Belle’s face.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Sleeping Beauty.”

Belle blinked slowly. Her voice, when it came, was husky and quiet.

“Mm. What time is it?”

“Almost eight.” Emilie smiled gently. “You missed Max’s win.”

Belle sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes as Lilly gave a sleepy grumble and re-settled herself in her lap.

“He won?”

Emilie nodded. “Dominated. It was very on-brand. I texted him back for you. Said congrats and that you were passed out under a pile of cats.”

Belle huffed a breath of a laugh. “Thanks.”

“He asked if you were okay.”

“I’m…” Belle paused. “Better, now.”

Emilie hesitated, then sat down beside her fully, the cushions dipping slightly. “Charles realised.”

Belle’s body stilled.

“During the post-race interview. Karun Chandhok mentioned Monaco. Said something about your birthday being the same day as his win. And you could see it—click. Like his brain got punched in the face.” Emilie’s voice was flat. “He didn’t realise, Belle. Not until someone reminded him you exist.”

Belle exhaled slowly, hands curled in the fabric of the hoodie. “And now he’s spiraling?”

“Of course. Called you. Texted you. Voicemails. I think Arthur’s panicking too. Pascale’s probably mid-emotional breakdown.”

Belle looked over, finally meeting her best friend’s eyes. “You’re watching press conferences now?”

Emilie shrugged, suddenly sheepish. “Lando made a joke on Twitch last week that press media days are ‘elite chaos.’ I got curious. Stayed for the spectacle. Didn’t expect it to turn into a soap opera starring your brother.”

Belle blinked. Then grinned—softly, genuinely—for the first time in days. “You’re watching F1 now because of Lando Norris?”

Emilie lifted her chin. “It’s not serious. It’s anthropological.”

Belle laughed, the sound cracking slightly at the edges, but real.

“I’m also staying here tonight,” Emilie added, pulling a blanket from the tote and draping it over them both. “Because I love you. And because Max will kill me if I leave you alone.”

Belle rested her head against Emilie’s shoulder, voice small. “You don’t have to fix it.”

“I’m not here to fix it,” Emilie murmured. “I’m here so you don’t have to carry it by yourself.”

Belle closed her eyes again.

The texts from Charles buzzed softly on the coffee table. She didn’t reach for them. She didn’t need to.

Not tonight.

She had Emilie. She had Max. She had a stuffed lion upstairs and cats who loved her without question. And when she was ready—on her terms—she would decide if the rest of them deserved her again.

But for now?

She ignored the buzzing.

And let herself be held.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

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

Oscar: He figured it out. CHARLES FINALLY FIGURED IT OUT.

Lando: WAIT WHAT SOMEONE PLEASE CONFIRM

Daniel: Karun said it was Belle’s birthday during the Monaco win and you could see Charles’ soul leave his body in real time. It was glorious

Carlos: He needed the right trigger (also I am still mad)

Lewis: He was fully smiling at first Then hit the mental brick wall of oh no

George Russell: The smile-drop was cinematic. Might’ve been the most emotional acting we’ve seen all season.

Alex: Does anyone have the clip? For science?

Nico H.: I have it bookmarked.

Sebastian: He really didn’t realise until that exact moment? Not even a whisper before?

Zhou: I still can’t believe it took someone else saying her name for him to remember she has a birthday.

Logan: No, no, let’s all take a moment: He had an entire win In Monaco In front of his family And forgot his sister’s birthday

Oscar: SHE WAVED AT HIM.

Carlos: IN THE GARAGE IN FERRARI RED

Fernando: Imagine forgetting a sister who treats you like that.

Lance: My jaw is still on the floor. He spiraled like he was trapped in a washing machine

David: Live PR disaster. I actually winced.

Sergio Pérez: Dios mío. Max is going to be furious

Nico R.: Max doesn’t need to say a word. His existence is already revenge enough

George: Speaking of Max: Has anyone checked if he’s okay?

Oscar: He’s not. But he’ll be home soon.

Valtteri: This chat is giving Drive to Survive a run for its money

Lando: IMAGINE BEING BELLE Standing there. Birthday. Monaco. Forgotten. AND secretly married to Max Verstappen???

Daniel: Plot twist: she should dropped the wedding photos on Charles’ birthday Just for symmetry

Carlos: Don’t give me ideas I will do it

Oscar: He didn’t remember Until someone else reminded him she existed.

George: True.

Lewis Hamilton: Justice for Belle.

Daniel Ricciardo: Justice. And snacks. And ten thousand cats. She deserves it all.

Fernando: And peace. Away from that chaos.

Kimi: Took him long enough.

***

Lorenzo stood at the foot of Isabelle’s old apartment building, staring up at the cream-colored stone façade like it might blink back at him. The shutters were open on the third floor—her floor—but nothing inside looked familiar. No string lights. No potted herbs on the windowsill. No pale curtains drifting in the breeze the way they used to when she’d leave the balcony door cracked open for the sea air.

He buzzed the door anyway.

Once. Then again.

No response.

The hallway was quieter than he remembered. Less lived-in. The echoes of memory were louder than the footsteps on the stairs as he climbed, more out of muscle memory than belief. He reached her old door and knocked.

No answer.

He stood there, unsure of what to do. His hands itched to call someone—Charles, Pascale, anyone—but that wouldn’t fix this. Not yet.

Then the door across the hall creaked open.

“Looking for Isabelle?” a warm, vaguely amused voice asked.

Lorenzo turned. An older woman stood in the doorway, wearing a robe and holding a mug of tea. Madame Fortier. He remembered her vaguely—Belle used to bring her pastries sometimes when she baked too much.

“Yes,” he said, suddenly unsure of his voice. “Is she home?”

The woman smiled, kind but surprised.

“Darling, she moved out almost a year ago.”

Lorenzo froze.

“What?”

Madame Fortier nodded. “Lovely girl. Packed everything very neatly. She left a plant on my windowsill as a thank-you.”

A beat passed. Lorenzo’s pulse ticked strangely in his throat.

“Where did she go?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The woman sipped her tea, then tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Oh, she moved in with her boyfriend,” Madame Fortier said, smiling warmly. “Lovely man. Very polite. Treated her well, from what I saw. Always held the door. Picked her up in that fancy little car. She seemed happy.”

Lorenzo’s stomach dropped.

Moved in with her boyfriend.

A year ago.

And none of them knew.

“Right,” he said, the word catching slightly in his throat. “Thank you.”

He walked back down the hallway slowly, like his legs were moving through water.

Outside again, the sunlight felt harsher than it had minutes ago.

Belle had always been the quiet one. The background Leclerc. Never the loudest voice at the table, never the one asking for attention. But she'd been the glue. The calm. The one who remembered birthdays. Who showed up at Arthur’s karting meets with water bottles and quiet encouragement.

Who texted Lorenzo before his exams just to say you’ve got this.

And she hadn’t told them.

Not about the move.

Not about the boyfriend.

Not about… any of it.

It wasn’t just out of character. It was completely, utterly un-Belle.

She didn’t let people she loved run into walls like this. She didn’t let them go blind into guilt and panic. Unless—

Unless she’d stopped expecting them to see her at all.

Lorenzo felt that thought like a punch to the chest.

Had they really made her feel that invisible?

And someone else—some quiet, polite boyfriend in a fancy car—had known her better than any of them did.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Pascale)

Lorenzo: Update. She doesn’t live at her old apartment anymore.

Arthur: what?

Pascale: What do you mean she doesn’t live there anymore??

Charles: Lorenzo please tell me that’s not what it sounds like

Lorenzo: Her neighbor says she moved out. Almost a year ago. Moved in with her boyfriend.

Arthur: SHE HAS A WHAT

Charles: SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND??

Pascale: Since when?! She never said anything! She never brought anyone to dinner—did you meet him??

Lorenzo: No. None of us did, clearly.

Arthur: what if he’s the reason she’s not answering what if something happened

Charles: don’t say that don’t even think that she’s just mad at us right?

Arthur: no but— think about it she hasn’t answered in two weeks. she didn’t say a word about moving. not a single thing about this guy. what if she’s not okay?

Pascale: She would’ve told us. She always told us if she was scared. Or uncomfortable.

Lorenzo: Not if she doesn’t trust us anymore. Not if she thinks we stopped listening.

Charles: no. no. no no no. I saw her in the garage. She smiled. She waved.

Arthur: people smile when they’re drowning, Charles

Pascale: I’m calling her again. Right now.

Charles: Already did. Straight to voicemail. I’ve texted. I’ve DMed. Nothing.

Arthur: what if something happened

Lorenzo: We don’t know that. Don’t spiral. But we do need to find her.

Charles: I can ask someone at Ferrari. Maybe they know where she’s been.

Pascale: No. No more waiting for her to come to us. We go to her.

Arthur: but we don’t know where she is

Charles: She has a boyfriend we didn’t even know about She moved out a year ago She’s not answering She’s not talking to any of us

Lorenzo: Then we find someone who has seen her recently.

Charles: Who? Because it’s clearly not us.

***

Charles sat by the window, motionless. The clouds blurred past beneath them, soft and ghostlike, but he didn’t see any of it. His phone rested in his hand, screen black, battery threatening to die with a solemn 9% glaring up at him. He hadn’t put it down since they’d left the tarmac.

No new messages. No calls. No Belle.

He’d left voicemail after voicemail. Texts that felt like fragments of apology and panic, all swallowed into silence.

Across the aisle, Nicolas Todt had his laptop open and his phone pressed to his ear, murmuring in rapid-fire French. Every few minutes, he would pause, pinch the bridge of his nose, and mutter something like “catastrophe” or “this is a PR disaster.”

Which, to be fair, it was.

“No, non, it wasn’t intentional,” Nicolas said sharply into the phone. “Yes, we’re working on a statement. No, she hasn’t responded.”

Belle’s name had been trending since the post-race interview. Not because she’d done anything. But because Charles had forgotten her. On her birthday. In Monaco. While she stood right there in the garage, smiling like she didn’t want to be seen and knowing no one had remembered.

Charles swallowed the lump rising in his throat.

Across the cabin, Arthur sat slumped beside Alexandra. His arms were crossed tightly, mouth drawn into a hard line. He hadn’t said much since boarding. But his silence didn’t feel defensive. It felt heavy. Like guilt.

Alexandra was the only one not pretending to be calm.

“You forgot her birthday,” she said. Again. Quietly, but without softening the blow.

“I know,” Charles rasped, eyes fixed on nothing.

“No,” she said sharply, “you don’t. You forgot, Charles. All of you did. She was there. In the garage. And no one even looked at her properly.”

Arthur flinched beside her, but didn’t respond.

From the aisle, Joris Trouche—normally calm, endlessly competent, the kind of man who could manage a logistics meltdown without raising his voice—was pacing with thinly veiled fury. He’d tried sitting down twice. Failed both times.

And now, he stopped in front of them, tone clipped. Controlled. But barely.

“I’ve known Isabelle since she was thirteen,” Joris said, staring them down. “She sent me homemade cinnamon cookies when I was stuck in the hospital with a stress fracture. She used to ask how my mum was doing.”

He turned to Charles. “And you—she waved at you in Monaco. On her birthday. And you smiled like she was anyone.”

Charles opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Joris’s voice wavered—angry, but undercut by something else. Something personal.

“I’m angry at you,” he said quietly. “But I’m angry at myself too. I should’ve remembered.”

In the front cabin, Joris was pacing. He’d been quiet since takeoff, but now his temper was burning through the thin layer of professionalism that usually cloaked him like armor.

“I should’ve remembered,” Joris said suddenly, sharply. “I should have reminded you. I always remind you. And I—I forgot too.”

Arthur stirred. “We didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Joris snapped his gaze toward him. “You don’t have to mean it. You did it anyway. You only noticed her absence when it became public embarrassment. That’s not love, that’s damage control.”

Nicolas finally ended his call and shut the laptop with a soft but definitive click. “If anyone has a prayer of salvaging this, it’s not through spin,” he said. “It’s through action. Apologies. Honesty. Real words. Not just statements.”

Charles didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because Belle hadn’t responded to a single one of his messages. She hadn’t returned his call. She hadn’t even opened them.

And she always used to answer. Even when she was mad. Even when he didn’t deserve it.

He stared out at the clouds, jaw clenched, fists curled against his thighs.

He’d won in Monaco.

And lost the only sister he’d ever had.

***

Group Chat: GRID 2024

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

Charles:Where is my sister? Does anyone know where Isabelle is???

Charles: I’ve called. I’ve texted. She’s not answering. She’s not at her apartment. Her neighbor says she MOVED OUT A YEAR AGO. She’s GONE and I don’t know where she is!!!

George: Charles. Deep breath.

Carlos: She’s safe.

Charles: YOU KNOW WHERE SHE IS???

Carlos: Yes. She’s not missing. She’s just not talking to you.

Charles: And YOU KNEW THAT?? You ALL knew she moved out and didn’t say anything???

Carlos: You forgot her birthday, Charles. You don’t get to have an opinion.

Charles: You KNEW?! You KNEW and you didn’t tell me?? You remembered her birthday and let me humiliate myself in front of the world?!

Carlos: She told me not to say anything because she didn’t want pity cupcakes. Her words. She asked for one thing. I respected that.

Charles: SHE’S MY SISTER.

Carlos: Then maybe you should have treated her like that.

Oscar: Charles. Stop.

Charles: No, Oscar, he LET me forget!

Oscar: No. You forgot. YOU. He just respected her boundaries. She didn’t want a spotlight apology. She wanted to be seen before she disappeared. And none of you did.

Oscar: Belle asked Carlos not to tell you. Because she knew you’d make it about yourself.

Charles: Excuse me??

Oscar: YOU forgot her birthday. You smiled right through her in Monaco. You didn’t notice she moved out. You didn’t notice she disappeared. And now you’re mad at Carlos for respecting her boundaries?

Charles: I have a right to be upset!

Oscar: Belle has a right to protect herself. You’re upset because you’re losing control. She’s not missing, Charles. She’s finally choosing herself. And you can’t stand that it wasn’t you who got to decide when or how.

Lando: ...wow

Daniel: Oscar just cleared the entire grid.

George: No survivors.

Charles: Wait. Wait—how do you ALL know where she is?

Charles: Wait. WHAT ARE YOU NOT TELLING ME

Pierre: wait why does this chat feel like everyone’s in on something except me

Lando: She’s fine. She’s not alone. She’s safe. That’s all that matters.

Charles: HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT??

Oscar: Because she’s home.

Charles: What does that mean??

George: ...not our story to tell

Carlos: Exactly.

Yuki: What is happening. I feel like I skipped an episode.

Lando: Welcome to Drive to Survive: Emotional Damage Edition.

Oscar: Charles, stop texting. Start listening.

Charles: I need to fix it.

Carlos: Then don’t make this about you.

Lewis: And maybe… for once… Try earning your sister’s forgiveness instead of assuming you’re entitled to it.

Daniel: All I’m gonna say is… maybe next time don’t wait until post-race interviews to remember the people standing in your corner.

Lewis: And maybe sit with this one for a while before demanding answers. Sometimes silence is the only language people have left.

Charles: … I just want to fix it.

Oscar: Then stop trying to own her pain. And start listening.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

Oscar: I might’ve gone too hard. But also I really don’t think I did.

Lewis: Nope. You didn’t. You said what needed to be said.

Carlos: I’ve been biting my tongue for two weeks. Thank you for saying it out loud.

George: You cleared him so thoroughly I think I need to book you for emotional landscaping.

Lando: You had him pacing like a dad who just realized he missed Parent-Teacher Night. It was glorious.

Daniel: Honestly? That was better than Spa 2021. You lapped him emotionally.

Alex: Did you see Pierre and Yuki’s confusion?? They looked like they opened Netflix halfway through season 3.

Oscar: They’re still trying to figure out why we all suddenly act like Max Verstappen is Belle’s guard dog husband.

Zhou: Wait. Should we add Pierre and Yuki to this chat? Like a prep class before the meltdown?

Logan: Absolutely not. They’ll trigger Charles into another “WHERE IS MY SISTER??” monologue and I’m emotionally out of snacks.

Esteban: Pierre would tell Charles.

Mark: Back to the point—Oscar, you did good. He needed the mirror held up. Guilt isn’t the same as accountability.

David: And accountability isn’t the same as entitlement. He forgot that. You reminded him.

Sebastian: You all know what gets me? She didn’t even leave angry. She left quietly. And that says more than shouting ever could.

Carlos: That’s what kills me. She still doesn’t want us to fight over her. She just wanted to be seen.

Lewis: And now she finally is. By the one person who actually looked before it was too late.

George: Max is probably already privately planning to change his will and tattoo her name on his chest.

Lando: He's in full "mine" mode. He’ll probably growl at anybody that comes close to her for the remainder of the week.

Daniel Ricciardo: Wait until Charles finds out. About the wedding. About the “Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen” monogrammed towels.

Oscar: He doesn’t deserve to even have a fucking opinion about it. And he doesn’t get to drag Belle through more of his guilt spiral.

Lewis: And if he does?

Oscar: Then we remind him. She’s not invisible anymore. And she never has to be again.

Sebastian: Long live Belle Verstappen. She deserves peace.

Carlos: And we’re making damn sure she keeps it.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Victoria: I just saw the clip. Charles finally realized, didn’t he?

Victoria: I want to throw my phone through a wall. How did it take a live interview for it to click??

Victoria: Is Belle okay? Please tell me she’s okay. Tell me you’re with her.

Max: I’m flying back tonight. Emilie’s with her now. She’s safe. Quiet. But… not okay. Not yet.

Victoria: Of course she’s not. She was standing there in the garage and smiled at him, and he didn’t remember. I don’t know how she held it together.

Max: Because that’s what she’s always done. Hold it in. Make it easier for everyone else.

Victoria: Not anymore. She doesn’t owe them that. She never did. And if Charles tries to guilt her into “moving on,” I swear to God.

Max: He won’t get the chance.

Victoria: Good. And when you get home—hold her tight, okay?

Max: Always. I’ve got her, Vic. She’s not alone anymore.

Victoria: She better not be. Because if any of them make her feel small again, I will drive to Monaco and handle it myself.

Max: You’ll have to get in line behind me.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Jos Verstappen

Jos: Just saw the clip. The post-race interview.

Max: He only realized because Karun mentioned it. Didn’t even remember on his own.

Jos: I want to drive to Maranello and punch something.

Jos: You tell me—right now—is she okay?

Max: Emilie’s with her. She says Belle’s sleeping. Quiet. She hasn’t messaged me yet. But I’m heading home.

Jos: Good. Don’t leave her alone with that silence. She’ll pretend she’s fine. She’ll say it doesn’t matter. But this? This hurt her. You can see it in the way she vanished.

Jos: Belle doesn’t demand space. She disappears when she feels like no one wants her in the room.

Max: I know. She doesn’t have to say it for me to hear it.

Jos: I’m proud of her. She stood up for herself the only way she knew how. By walking away.

Jos: But I swear to God, if that brother of hers ever makes her feel like that again— I don’t care if he’s a Leclerc. I will make sure he never forgets who she is again.

Max: You’ll have to beat me to it. I’m not letting them near her until she says she’s ready. If she ever is.

Jos: That’s my boy. You take care of her. And tell her this family—the one she chose—has her back. Always.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Sophie: I just watched the interview.

Sophie: Max… he forgot her birthday. She was standing in the garage. She smiled at him. And he didn’t even blink. Like she was nobody.

Max: He remembered live on camera. Karun said something about Monaco and her birthday, and it hit him mid-answer. You could see it crash into him.

Sophie: God, I hope it crushes him.

Sophie: How is Belle? Have you spoken to her?

Max: Emilie’s with her. She says she’s safe. Sleeping. Quiet.

Sophie: She’s always quiet when she’s hurting. Always. You remember that, Max. The softer she gets, the harder she’s holding herself together.

Max: I know. That’s why I’m coming home.

Sophie: Good. She needs you. Not the Max who wins races. You. The one who holds her hand when she’s anxious. The one who brings her tulips on Thursdays because she mentioned liking them once.

Sophie: Because the people who were supposed to protect her? They failed her.

Max: I’ll never let her feel like that again.

Sophie: I know you won’t. Because you see her. And that’s the most anyone can give someone who’s spent their whole life being overlooked.

Sophie: You tell her I’m coming by next week. No pressure. Just lunch. And she can sit on the balcony and not say a word if that’s all she wants. I’ll just be there.

Max: She’ll love that. She loves you.

Sophie: I love her. And if her family can’t act like it, she’s more than welcome in ours.

***

Max sat in his seat, elbow propped against the armrest, forehead resting against his knuckles as the private jet hummed through the night. The win from earlier that day already felt like a lifetime ago. He hadn’t celebrated. Not really. He’d shaken hands, answered the questions, smiled on the podium because it was muscle memory now.

But the second the press conference ended, the weight had dropped onto his chest.

Charles had realized. Finally.

Live. On camera. Because someone else—Karun, of all people—had mentioned Belle’s birthday.

It had taken that long. Two weeks.

Max had replayed the press clip on his phone once—watched Charles’ face shift in slow motion from charm to dawning horror. Watched him falter, then spiral. And Max hadn’t felt a drop of pity.

Because Belle had stood in that garage. She’d smiled. She’d waved. And her own brother had looked through her.

Across the aisle, Lando was sprawled in his seat with a blanket half-pulled over his face, earbuds in, legs stretched into Oscar’s personal space. Oscar had given up fighting it and was half-asleep against the window. Daniel was flipping through something on his iPad, likely pretending not to watch Max out of the corner of his eye.

The silence was comfortable. Familiar. But Max’s mind was anything but.

Daniel had commandeered the seat across Max and was watching the proceedings like a therapist in a sitcom.

Finally, Lando broke the silence.

“Sooo…” he said slowly, cautiously, “how’s Belle?”

Max didn’t even look up. “Emilie’s with her. She said she’s okay. Belle was sleeping. Under the cats. Emilie said she looked peaceful.”

Lando hesitated. “Right. So… you know… she’s safe?”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re still brooding.”

“I’m not brooding,” Max muttered.

Daniel leaned over the seat, grinning. “Oh, you are. Brooding with intensity. I haven’t seen this level of moody since Lando ran out of oat milk last week.”

“Hey,” Lando protested, “that was a crisis. And also—can we talk about how terrifying Emilie is?”

Daniel burst out laughing. “So your crush is confirmed.”

Lando went pink. “I do not have a crush.”

Oscar stretched, deadpan: “You stalked her on instagram and accidentally liked a post from 2019.”

“That was admiration! That’s different.”

Max finally glanced over, managing a small smirk despite the pressure in his chest. “You are a brave man,” he told Lando sagely, who glared at him.

Lando groaned, pulling his hoodie over his head. “Why did I say that out loud?”

Daniel looked way too delighted. “Because you’re into emotionally terrifying women with sharp cheekbones and moral clarity. Honestly? Taste.”

Oscar nodded solemnly. “Elite taste.”

“I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Oscar yawned.

Max’s smile faded again as he looked back at his phone. The moment passed, quiet settling again like dust.

Lando, quieter now, asked, “Do you think Belle’s okay?”

Max didn’t answer right away. He was thinking of her curled on the couch. Of Emilie sitting beside her. Of their cats acting like tiny sentinels. He thought of the unopened texts, the unreturned calls.

“I think,” he said eventually, “she’s tired. Of being forgotten. Of being an afterthought. Of being quiet and still never heard.”

The other three fell silent. Even Daniel looked serious now.

Max looked down at the screen. Still nothing.

“But she’s not alone,” he added. “Not this time.”

Oscar nodded. “You’ll be home soon.”

Max’s voice was soft but certain. “Yeah. And when I get there, I’m staying. No more paddock games. No more silence. She doesn’t have to carry any of it alone anymore.”

Lando peeked out from his hoodie. “You’re like… scarily romantic for someone who once said feelings were ‘a distraction’.”

Max huffed a laugh. “Turns out she’s the only distraction I want.”

Daniel wiped an imaginary tear. “Beautiful. Print that on a mug.”

Oscar: “Tattoo it on your neck.”

Lando: “Put it on team merch. Limited edition.”

Max smiled faintly, then leaned back, still clutching his phone.

Let them joke.

Because the second they landed, he was going home. To her.

And this time, he wasn’t letting anyone—not a team, not a calendar, not even her family—make her feel invisible again.

***

Text Messages: Alexandra Saint-Mleux & Belle Verstappen

Alexandra: Hey, Isabelle. I know it’s late. I just… I wanted to say I’m thinking about you.

Alexandra: Charles realized during the post-race interview. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so gutted. I wish it hadn’t taken that for him to see what he missed.

Alexandra: I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I’m sure a lot of people already have. But you didn’t deserve to be forgotten. You never have. And I’m sorry.

***

Text Messages: Alexandra Saint-Mleux & Charlotte Di Pietro

Alexandra: Hey. Just a heads-up before it hits you through someone else: We forgot Belle’s birthday.

Charlotte: …what?

Alexandra: All of us. Her entire family.

Charlotte: No. No way. It was during Monaco, wasn’t it?

Alexandra: Yes. She was in the garage, Char. Waved at Charles. Smiled at all of us. And not one of us remembered.

Charlotte: Oh my god.

Alexandra: Charles realized during a post-race interview today. The interviewer mentioned her birthday and I watched it hit him like a truck.

Charlotte: Is Isabelle okay?

Alexandra: She hasn’t answered anyone. Not even Pascale.

Charlotte: That’s not “okay.” That’s Isabelle shutting the world out.

Alexandra: Exactly. And the worst part? She didn’t say anything. She let us all forget. She didn’t expect us to remember.

Charlotte: Because we’ve done it before. Not like this. But still. God.

Alexandra: I texted her. No reply. She might answer you if you try. You’ve always been gentle with her.

Charlotte: I will. Thank you for telling me. And for not pretending it’s less awful than it is.

Alexandra: She deserves more than silence and spin. She always has.

Charlotte: I’ll try to reach her tomorrow. Even if she doesn’t answer… she’ll know someone tried.

Alexandra: That’s all we can do now. Try. And mean it.

***

The apartment was quiet when Max stepped inside.

Soft light filtered in through the curtains, casting golden stripes across the hardwood. The cats didn’t rush to greet him—they were already curled up in their usual spots, half-asleep and full of judgment. Sassy lifted her head briefly from the back of the couch, flicked her tail in acknowledgment, and went right back to sleep.

Max dropped his duffel gently by the door, kicked off his shoes without a sound, and padded into the hallway. Every step closer to the bedroom felt heavier. Not with dread. But with something deeper. Something like relief tied up in knots of worry.

He pushed the door open quietly.

There she was.

Belle, curled on his side of the bed, her frame barely a ripple beneath the duvet. One of his old shirts hung off her shoulder, too big and soft and completely hers now. Her hair was a mess, her breathing slow and steady.

He’d spent days missing her. And now, seeing her like this—peaceful, untouched by the storm her family had just realized they created—he nearly broke.

Max crossed the room slowly, sliding into bed behind her without a word. His hand found her waist beneath the blanket, fingers curling gently. His nose tucked into her shoulder, lips brushing against the skin just below her ear.

She stirred.

“Mm?” she murmured sleepily, voice raspy and warm. “Max?”

“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m home.”

Belle rolled toward him without hesitation, arms winding around his middle, burying her face in his chest like she hadn’t seen him in months. He held her tighter. One hand cradling the back of her head, the other tracing slow, soothing lines down her spine.

“Did Emilie let you in?” she mumbled.

“No. She left me a note that said ‘fridge is stocked, don’t screw it up.’” He paused. “Also, she stole my last protein bar.”

Belle huffed a sleepy breath of laughter. Then: “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Max said softly. “I’ve missed you.”

She pulled back just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were puffy, tired—but clearer than he expected. The ache he saw in them was quieter now. Calmer. He reached up, brushing his thumb gently beneath one eye.

“They all texted,” she said.

He nodded. “I know.”

“And called. Voicemails. Messages. Even Alexandra, I think.” Her voice was neutral, but her fingers had curled into his shirt. “I shut off my phone. I just… I can’t deal with them right now.”

“You don’t have to.”

She exhaled slowly. “They forgot, Max. Not just my birthday. Me. And now they’re panicking, but not because they miss me. Because they feel guilty. It’s not the same.”

Max didn’t rush to fill the silence. He let it settle between them, warm and safe and honest.

“They’ll say sorry,” he said eventually. “But that doesn’t mean you have to forgive them all at once. Or at all. That’s your call.”

Belle swallowed. “I just… I don’t know if I want to let them back in. Not after this. Not when it took two weeks and an interview for them to notice.”

Max leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Then don’t. You don’t owe them anything.”

She closed her eyes, breathing him in. His presence. His steadiness. The way he never told her what she should feel—just made space for what she did.

“You always see me,” she whispered.

“Always,” Max said. “Every day. Every version of you. Even the one who hides under a blanket and ghosts her whole bloodline.”

Belle laughed, watery and real. “I love you.”

Max smiled, burying his face in her hair. “I love you more.”

They stayed there, wrapped in warmth and honesty and quiet defiance.

Her family could wait. The texts could sit unread. The apologies could pile up.

Right now, she had Max. And that was enough.

***

Text Messages: Max Fewtrell & Lando Norris

Max Fewtrell: BRO. You saw it, right?? Charles fully crashed his soul mid-interview??

Lando: Unfortunately, yes. It was like watching someone remember they left the oven on... and also their sister.

Max Fewtrell: Iconic. Karun was like “her birthday, right?” And Charles just downloaded a full panic attack.

Max Fewtrell: I screamed. Like—out loud. In public.

Lando Norris: It was kind of beautiful tbh. Like watching karma arrive with a mic and a production crew.

Max Fewtrell: Is his sister okay though? Do we know? Does she have a burner Twitter? I feel like she would.

Lando Norris: She’s fine. Emilie’s with her.

Max Fewtrell: Who’s Emilie?

Lando Norris: ... She's Belle’s best friend. Sharp. Dangerous. Possibly psychic. Says terrifyingly accurate things about my emotional state and then walks away in heels

Lando: She’s terrifying. Also brilliant. And she’s like…scarily beautiful.

Max Fewtrell: You have a crush on her, don’t you.

Lando: …I didn’t say that.

Max Fewtrell: YOU ABSOLUTELY DO OH MY GOD YOU DO This is the best gossip of the day and Charles had a meltdown on live TV

Lando: Shut up Also can we go back to Charles??

Max Fewtrell: No Because now I want to know why you know where Belle is And how you know Emilie’s with her And why you’re being so weirdly calm

Lando: …because I went to the wedding?

Max Fewtrell: THE WHAT

Lando: ...

Max Fewtrell: LAN THE WEDDING

Lando: Yeah. Belle and Max Verstappen. They got married. I was invited. Very small. City Hall. No media. Emilie picked the flowers

Max Fewtrell: MAX. VERSTAPPEN?!

Lando: Yes

Max Fewtrell: YOU MEAN TO TELL ME CHARLES IS HAVING A BREAKDOWN ABOUT FORGETTING HIS SISTER’S BIRTHDAY AND DOESN’T EVEN KNOW SHE’S MARRIED TO HIS RIVAL???

Lando: Correct

Max Fewtrell: I need to lie down. And then I need popcorn And possibly therapy But also more of this

Lando: Same. Group chat is chaos Do not ask to be added It’s war in there

Max Fewtrell: This is better than Drive to Survive You’ve been sitting on this gossip for HOW LONG?

Lando: Long enough to know I value my life And Max Verstappen would kill me if I leaked it before they were ready

Max Fewtrell: Fair

Lando: You think Charles is spiraling now… Wait until he finds out Max is family now

Max Fewtrell: My god. This is better than Netflix.

***

Lorenzo had barely slept.

After learning Isabelle hadn’t lived in her old apartment for nearly a year, he’d paced half the night in his kitchen, replaying every memory, every text, every moment he should have noticed and didn’t. His phone was full of unanswered group chat pings and hollow apologies.

By morning, he couldn’t sit still anymore.

He needed answers.

So he went to the one place he knew she would be at 8 am on a Monday morning.

Her job.

Atelier Renard Architects.

Clean glass facade, minimalist signage, nestled on the edge of the marina like it had always been there. Isabelle used to say she loved that building more than half her portfolio—it knows exactly what it is and makes no apologies for it.

The receptionist didn’t recognize him at first. He introduced himself politely—Lorenzo Leclerc, Isabelle’s brother—and tried not to notice the pause.

Then the woman gave a hesitant smile. “Oh… Isabelle. Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

“I just wanted to stop by,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “She’s not answering her phone. I thought maybe she was working, or—”

“Oh.” The woman’s expression faltered. “She doesn’t work here anymore.”

Lorenzo blinked. “What?”

“She… quit. Months ago. November, I think? Maybe early December. It was quiet. No big announcement. She just cleared out her office in one evening.”

Lorenzo’s stomach dropped. “Did she say why?”

The receptionist grimaced. “There were some internal issues. She seemed calm. Almost… relieved.”

Lorenzo stepped back slightly, reeling.

Quit.

She’d quit the one job she had fought tooth and nail for. The one thing she always lit up talking about.

And no one in her family had noticed.

Not one of them.

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist said gently. “I assumed you knew.”

Lorenzo nodded stiffly. “No, thank you. You’ve been kind.”

He left quickly. Didn’t wait for anything more.

Outside, he leaned against the edge of a planter and braced both hands on the cool stone, breath catching.

Isabelle hadn’t just moved.

She hadn’t just gone quiet.

She’d walked away from everything they thought they knew about her.

And no one—not a single one of them—had been close enough to notice it happening.

She’d untethered herself from them all.

And now?

Now they had no idea where she stood.

If she was hurt. If she was gone.

For the first time in years, panic didn’t just flicker in Lorenzo’s chest—it bloomed, wide and wild.

He pulled out his phone. Called her again. Straight to voicemail.

***

Text Messages: Alexandra Saint Mleux & Emilie Abadie

Alexandra: Hey Emilie. I just wanted to check in. Do you know how Isabelle is doing?

Emilie: She’s resting. She’s emotionally exhausted. And no, she’s not answering anyone right now.

Alexandra: I figured. I wasn’t going to ask you to make her talk, I just… Wanted to make sure she’s okay. Truly.

Emilie: You all want to make sure she’s “okay” now. Where was that energy six months ago? Or a year ago? Or on her birthday?

Alexandra: I know. You’re right. We failed her. I’m not pretending we didn’t. I’m just trying not to make the same mistake twice.

Emilie: Then don’t turn this into your redemption arc. Belle is not your apology vessel. She doesn’t owe anyone grace she hasn’t given herself yet.

Alexandra: …Okay. That’s fair. I’m not trying to earn points. Just… trying.

Emilie: Trying is good. But don’t expect updates or access. She gets to choose who gets that now. And when.

Alexandra: Of course. Is she alone?

Emilie: No. Her boyfriend’s with her. He’s been looking after her. And he likes taking care of her.

***

Max blinked his eyes open just as Belle shifted in his arms and pushed herself up slightly, hair tousled and sweater slipping off one shoulder. Her eyes were tired, but calmer now. Clearer.

“Hi,” she whispered, voice rough with sleep.

“Hi,” he murmured back, brushing her hair behind her ear. “How are you feeling?”

She hesitated. “Better. Now that you’re here.”

He kissed her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Belle sat up a little more, folding her legs under her. Max followed, still close, watching her carefully.

There was something in the way she looked at him now. Like she was on the edge of a cliff, heart in her throat, trying to trust the air would catch her.

“I have to tell you something,” she said softly, her fingers playing with the hem of her sleeve.

Max stilled. “Okay.”

“I was going to wait,” she said. “I didn’t want to do it over the phone, or in the middle of all the… noise. But you’re here now, and I don’t want to keep it from you.”

“Belle,” he said gently, “you can tell me anything.”

“I have something for you.”

Max blinked. “Is this a surprise-I- am-mad-at-you gift or a I-love-you-so-here’s-something-cute gift?”

Belle rolled her eyes, but her lips curved slightly. “The second one.”

“Good,” he said. “I was going to guess that anyway.”

She opened the drawer of her bedside table and pulled something out of it, only to placed it gently in his lap.

A lion plush.

Max looked down at it, brows drawing together. It was small, soft, slightly chubby around the middle with a fuzzy, mane and button eyes. Not something he’d seen before.

He ran a hand over its head slowly, confused but already fond of it. “Where did this come from?”

“I bought it the day after you left for Canada,” Belle said quietly. “I was shopping for a gift for Victoria’s baby, and I saw him. And I couldn’t put him back.”

Max looked at her, then back at the lion, frowning slightly in thought. “For Victoria’s baby?”

She shook her head. Her voice was soft, but steady. Belle’s eyes met his.

“For ours.”

The words hit him like a gear shift in slow motion. He blinked, heart thudding, mouth parting, but no sound coming out. He looked at her, really looked at her—at the hoodie draped over her shoulders, at the hand resting on her stomach without thinking, at the way her eyes shimmered but didn’t waver.

“You’re—” His voice cracked. “You’re pregnant?”

Belle nodded. “Twelve weeks, now. I thought it was the anemia at first. I went in for a check-up and they… they did an ultrasound.”

Max’s hand found hers without hesitation, fingers lacing tightly. “And everything’s okay?”

She nodded again, breath catching this time. “There was a heartbeat. A strong one. I saw it.”

He stared at her in awe, overwhelmed, his brain scrambling to keep up while his heart surged forward.

The plush lion sat between them on the bed, quiet and steady.

Max looked down at it, then back at her. “You’re serious?”

Belle’s voice cracked then, just a little. “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone. I wanted it to be here. With you. Home.”

And Max—Max didn’t even realize he was crying until she touched his cheek, brushing the tears away with the gentlest smile.

“You’re having our baby,” he said, the words tumbling out of him like something sacred.

Belle’s breath caught.

And then Max let out a shaky laugh—half in disbelief, half in awe. “You’re having our baby.”

She bit her lip. “Is that… okay?”

“Belle,” he said, looking at her like she’d just given him the universe, “it’s perfect.”

He looked down, then up at her again.

“Twelve weeks?” he said. “So that means…”

“December,” Belle murmured. “Right before the new season.”

His grin was slow, bright, and stunned. “A Verstappen off-season baby. We’re so on-brand.”

Belle laughed, soft and teary.

Max reached past her, picked up the lion, and pressed it to her stomach with gentle reverence.

“Hey, little one,” he said quietly. “I can’t wait to meet you.”

***

1K notes · View notes

aquamarixx · 5 months ago

Text

breaking the internet

chapter six a series of misunderstanding and lack of communication finally leads Hiori and Miss Journalist to talk, once and for all. blue lock longfic series pairing hiori yo x reader contains slow slow slow burn, post blue lock timeskip, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, implied !NagiReo, suggestive nsfw masterlist

For weeks, there’s been nothing but radio silence.

You lost count of how many times you’ve typed a reply to Hiori, only to delete it afterward. Again and again.

Each time, the words feel wrong. Too stiff, too needy, too defensive. No matter how you framed it, everything sounded wrong. What could you even say that wouldn’t make everything worse?

Plus, he didn’t follow up either.

Every day, you’d sneak a peek into your Winstagram chats, only to see the same conversation where you left off. He’d view your stories, sure. A proof that he’s still there, just… watching. But other than that, nothing.

On weekends, you’d log onto Steam, hoping to catch him there while you convince yourself to unwind. Every time you do, a few minutes after you log in, his name would pop up on your notifications.

hiyooooooo is now online

Your cursor hovered over his profile picture more times than you cared to admit. But fear—no, humiliation—held you back. You’d tell yourself it was fear of rejection, of misstepping. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was guilt too.

So you’ll sit straighter in your chair, hands gripping tight on your mouse, waiting. Waiting for a game invite, a little message, anything.

But nothing ever came.

Gaming was supposed to be your escape, something you both shared but it seems like it can’t break the cold shoulder treatment you’re getting from him.

Maybe I just need to see him. Or talk to him in person, you thought, clinging to the idea as though it might fix everything. Maybe it will. But still, easier said than done.

Desperation leads you to ask your editor for a beat change. Anything but Manshine City. The name alone made your stomach churn. You just need some distance from it until you clear the air between you and Hiori. Especially since you two haven’t spoken since the Nagi incident.

But Mercury in retrograde or whatever cruel force dictated your life these days, have other plans. Because your editor doesn’t budge. And to make matters worse, she hands you your next assignment.

“You’re covering another Manshine City game,” she said, her tone apologetic as it can be.

You want to protest. But before you can even spit out your rehearsed excuses, she cuts you off.

“They saw the numbers your Bastard München pieces pulled in,” she explained apologetically. “It’s PR gold for them.”

Her words hit you like a sucker punch. All the carefully prepared justifications in your head evaporated, leaving you standing there, mute and cornered.

Turns out, your editor and the Manshine City marketing manager are college buddies. She admits that the marketing manager cashed in a favor to get you to cover the team after seeing how you somehow brought good impressions to Bastard München.

As much as you want to get mad at your editor, you can’t. This was the woman who took a chance on you. The same woman who took you under her wing, believed in you when no one else would. How could you even say no to her?

You shake your head. It wasn’t your editor’s fault, really. That’s just how this business works.

And isn’t it good? People are asking for you, specifically. Isn’t that what you wanted?

Then why doesn’t it feel good?

You should be feeling good about it, right? Swelling with pride, even. Finally, people were putting a name to your work, treating you as more than a faceless, invisible byline. More than just an unfamiliar face in the video content.

Yet somehow, this void inside of you swallows every shred of accomplishment. And it leaves you unsatisfied and wondering if you truly deserve it.

And maybe—just maybe—it’s because you can’t untangle work from everything else. Because the lines are blurring, and you’ve let Hiori seep into every corner of your life. You’re not even sure you mind.

It’s ironic, isn’t it? He’s the one who made you believe in yourself, who made you feel like you could be more than just a name at the bottom of an article no one reads. He gave you the confidence to think you belonged here. And now, the thought of him lingers like a shadow, casting doubt over everything you do.

It’s not his fault. You know that. But it feels like the push and pull between your career and the “thing” you have with him is tearing you in two. That undefined, messy connection was supposed to be your escape—a rare piece of joy in the relentless grind of your career.

Instead, it feels like you’re being forced to choose.

Career or connection. Ambition or affection.

The tension in your chest is sharp and unrelenting.

No, you didn’t have time to dwell on that. At this point in your career, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Your personal life? Your preferences? None of that mattered.

You just had to suck it up. And do your job.

The stadium continues to buzz with energy as Manshine City wraps up their match with another clutch win. You just finished interviewing Nagi and Chigiri, notebook clutched in your hand.

Exhaustion pulls at you, but you linger a bit longer, tempted by the upcoming match between Bastard München and Italy Ubers. You have to get going if you want to get started with writing at home and sleep early.

Before you can give in to that temptation and the idea of seeing Hiori even from afar, Reo and the Manshine City marketing manager pull you into a conversation about potential content collaborations.

Despite their excitement showing, you’re pretty much drained. Instead, you offer your goodbyes, attempting to avoid getting roped in further to their impromptu planning.

“Stay, Miss Journalist, stay!” Reo calls out dramatically before he drapes himself over Nagi like a cat. With an apologetic smile and a small wave, you quicken your steps to get further away.

As you turn, you freeze when you nearly collide with someone. Hands catch you by the shoulders, steadying you before quickly letting go.

“Hiori…” you breathe as you lock gazes with him.

For a moment, you swear he looked… hurt. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual calm mask. He takes a step back, scratching the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from you.

You’re just about to speak but Chigiri’s voice slices through the tension.

“Hiori, hey!” Chigiri bounds over, oblivious to the atmosphere. His bright energy collides with the moment like a sledgehammer.

Hiori forces a strained, lopsided smile. “Hey.”

“You’ve met Miss Journalist, right?” Chigiri gestures at you with a grin. “Sorry for stealing your fan.”

Hiori eyes the Manshine City jersey draped on your shoulders. A casual gift from the team manager, thanking you for the support and hard work.

His jaw tightens ever so slightly, his hands curling into loose fists at his sides. You feel your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Oh yeah? I’m hurt.” A laugh escapes him but his sarcasm is unmistakeable.

“I-uh, I’m a Bastard München fan at heart, y’know that.” you stammer, gripping your notebook so tight.

“Well, we don’t mind changing that, do we, Nagi?” Reo teases, his smirk sharp.

Nagi, ever the enigma, tilts his head lazily. “Hmm, changing someone’s mind is a hassle. But Miss Journalist seems worth it.”

That statement doesn’t help.

What the hell is going on in that guy’s head? Are they really riling up Hiori?

“Wanna make a bet?” Reo’s voice is light, but the edge in his tone is clear.

“I don’t think she needs a bet to know who she likes better,” Hiori cuts in, his voice sharper than usual.

Usually, Hiori won’t be provoked by such trivial things. He gets enough shit like that within his team already. And it doesn’t faze him.

But this—this is different.

Because somehow, you’re involved and in the middle of it. And because it’s you.

He hates the way Reo’s arm brushes against your shoulder as he tries to invade your space. He hates the way Nagi’s detached comment earns a small laugh from Chigiri as if they’re onto something.

And most of all, he hates the image of you in that damn jersey. Or any other team’s jersey.

Not to mention, he never saw Nagi take an interest in you before. Nor Reo. Not that you’re not attractive. Because you are. But this possessive feeling, is it even right?

It’s irrational. He knows that. He has no right to feel this way. But the jealousy festers anyway, fueled by weeks of silence between you.

“Scared she might like us like us more?” Reo continues to taunt him, his grin widening as he zeroes in on the crack in Hiori’s composure.

Hiori’s fists clench tighter. “Yer delusional,” he snaps, the words biting.

Men. Are. So. Full. Of. Themselves.

You’re not a prize. You’re not some trophy for their ego-driven competition.

Or whatever pissing content is happening between the guys.

Without a word, you turn on your heel and walk away, your steps firm and purposeful. But before you round the corner, you throw a seething glare in Hiori’s direction.

He sees it.

And it hits him harder than anything Reo could have thrown.

Hiori stares at the untouched plate of food in front of him, the hum of conversation around the dinner table fading into a dull, distant noise. His teammates' laughter and energy fill the space in the way only Bastard München could.

But he can’t focus.

The moment from earlier—Reo’s teasing smirk, Nagi’s casual remarks, and the way you looked at him with such anger—loops in his mind like a highlight reel he couldn’t escape.

He doesn’t know what to do with the emotions simmering under the surface. The possessiveness, the jealousy.

It doesn’t make sense, not when the two of you aren’t even together. Both of you haven’t talked about feelings, about whether you even felt the same way.

So why did it feel like something sharp had lodged in his chest every time he thought about you with someone else?

His fingers drum lightly against his thigh as he fights the urge to check his phone again. He’s already done it too many times, looking at your messages, and wondering if he should text you. The silence between you has stretched so long that Hiori isn’t sure how to bridge it.

Am I being pushy? He thought, the question hanging heavy in his mind.

Is it selfish to want more when we haven’t defined what this is? Am I not being a creep?

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting.

To understand the little things that make you smile. To know you outside the boundaries of work. To know you in a deep, personal, and intimate setting.

To be the reason for all those moments.

The weight of the thought crashes into him. His chest tightens as the room around him seems to blur—teammates laughing, cutlery clinking, voices overlapping—fading into a hollow echo. The world slows, yet his pulse quickens, each beat louder and heavier than the last.

And then, it hits him.

“I do like her.”

The words slip out of him before he even knows he’s saying them.

The jealousy, the longing, the unspoken hope he’d buried deep enough to convince himself it wasn’t there. But it was. It always had been.

The realization doesn’t just hit—it collides, with the force of a meteor smashing into the earth. It leaves him shaken, reeling, and terrified in all equal measure.

Oh god, I like her.

He’s been running from it, denying it, pretending it wasn’t there. But there’s no escaping it now. No undoing it. It’s real, undeniable, and alive inside him, threatening to consume him if he doesn’t let it out.

His gaze drops to his hands, fidgeting against his jeans. He hates the jealousy twisting in his chest. It wasn’t fair—to you, to the relationship you shared, undefined as it was.

Is my possessiveness hindering her job? She’s here to do her work, and I’m… what? A distraction? A complication?

The weight of the thought makes his stomach churn. And then there was the nagging doubt he couldn’t shake: Does she like me for me? Or is it just Hiori Yo, the athlete? The player?

His teammates’ laughter jolts him out of his thoughts. He blinks, realizing he missed half the conversation. He forces a tight-lipped smile as Isagi nudges him, but his mind wanders back to the phone in his pocket.

He reaches for it, his heart quickening at the sight of your name on the screen. A message from you.

/yn_offthepage: what the fuck was that about earlier?

He freezes, his thumb hovering over the notification. He hasn’t heard you curse even once. Even through the text, he can hear your biting tone inside his head, ringing.

The screen dims, and Hiori lets it. The weight of his uncertainty presses heavily on him. For now, he couldn’t bring himself to open the message.

Later that night, back in his room, Hiori sits at his desk, staring blankly at his PC screen. Even the idea of gaming felt hollow. His mind was too restless.

His eyes wander to the image of you and him sitting at the pitch all sweaty. It was the candid shot someone had taken during the content shoot where he taught you how to dribble.

You were looking afar with a big smile on your face, and he was looking at you with so much yearning, the smallest smile tugging at his lips, betraying him.

The sight of it stirred something in him. A longing, sharp and bittersweet. He wanted to know if you ever looked at him the way he looked at you at that moment.

But what if opening up ruined what you already had? What if his feelings crossed a line you weren’t ready to acknowledge?

Hiori sighs, leaning back in his chair. The questions linger, unanswered.

For now, all he can do is sit with them, hoping he’d find the courage to face you—and himself—soon.

Your schedule finally winds down when the JFA hosts a midseason party disguised as a roadshow for the upcoming months and next season.

It’s a rare opportunity to step away from the chaos of your work, and you’re willing to take it. Networking, getting insider info straight from the lion’s den—and of course, free food and drinks.

Especially the free-flowing alcohol.

Despite the “casual” label slapped on the event, it’s still as lavish as you’d expect. Thank goodness there’s no formal dress code. You settled on your favorite gray high-waisted trousers paired with a tight-fitting black sleeveless turtleneck. Professional but bold, with just enough skin to leave an impression.

You can never go wrong with a little show of confidence, after all.

At the venue, you exchange pleasantries with Anri and Ego. The three of you make for an unusual trio, seated together like this. While you take notes as part of your routine, Anri occasionally scolds Ego for yawning or delivering sharp quips from the side.

The roadshow presentation is a mix of team management personnel, media representatives, investors, and a few JFA partners. As usual, the rest of the crowd is either running late or loitering outside, waiting for the afterparty to begin.

At least, you’re at ease knowing that you won’t bump into any players. Not just yet.

As soon as the program ends, the three of you continue to chat at the bar counter over drinks. But before you can even swap gossip with Anri, she’s whisked away by a group of Blue Lock graduates—punctual players from Italy Ubers. That leaves you alone with Ego, who sips whiskey neat while you nurse a Long Island iced tea.

“You’re doing better than the last time we met. Not bad for an unpolished gem,” he remarks dryly, lifting his glass.

It’s a backhanded compliment, but you can’t help the small flicker of pride it sparks.

“It’s... okay, I guess. But honestly, I didn’t expect how tough it’d be. The lines between work, passion, and personal life blur so easily.”

You ramble about juggling deadlines, clashing assignments, and the weight of endless expectations. Ego listens in silence, his sharp gaze unwavering.

“Then be an egoist,” he says bluntly, cutting through your ramblings like a knife. “You think those brats are just selfish jerks? They are. But egoism is what keeps them on top.

“It’s what makes them grow, thrive, and become the best. You’re no different. You have to feed your ego too, or else you’ll be devoured and spat out until you’re an empty husk of yourself.”

His words settle heavily in your chest. Before you can respond, Ego stands up, gives a half-hearted wave, and strides toward the exit, muttering something about how his tolerance for the evening’s schmoozing has reached its limit.

Scanning the room, you notice Anri still deep in conversation with some JFA people by the dance floor, while others mingle in scattered groups. The bar counter feels empty now, save for you and the two bartenders.

It’s a good time to pause and gather your thoughts—or maybe strike up a conversation with someone if the alcohol kicks in enough courage.

For now, you sit quietly, Ego’s words echoing in your mind.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it’s time to stand up for yourself—to push for better assignments, to confront Hiori, to stop burying your frustrations under layers of professionalism and fear.

Liquid courage starts to course through your body, loosening your hesitation. You pull out your phone and quickly type a message to your editor.

“I want a new assignment. I think I deserve that much, don’t I?” You hit send and switch your phone to Do Not Disturb before you can even second-guess yourself.

Before your musings can go deeper, someone slides onto the stool to your right. You glance up to see Reo with his cheeks flushed pink and his smile wide with mischief.

Behind him, Nagi trails, hands stuffed into his pockets, his disheveled hair giving him an even lazier charm. The scent of whiskey clings to them both, Reo more noticeably so.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our favorite journalist,” Reo greets, his voice dripping with playful charm. “What are you doing here all alone? Don’t you know parties are for mingling?”

You glance up, managing to offer a small smile. “And here I thought parties were for free food and drinks.”

“Touché,” Reo laughs, leaning against the bar counter. “But c’mon, there’s more to this party than just snacks. Like us, for instance.”

“Us?” you echo, your brows raising slightly.

“Me and Nagi, of course,” he says, draping an arm over Nagi’s shoulder. “You know, we were just talking about you earlier. He thinks you’re cute.”

Nagi gives a small, noncommittal shrug, his half-lidded eyes fixed on you. “He’s not wrong.”

You blink, the casualness of his statement catches you off guard. Before you can process it, Reo leans in closer, his grin widening. “You should come dance with us. I mean, what’s the harm? A little fun never hurt anyone, right?”

Your laughter is polite but nervous as you shake your head. “I’m fine here, really.”

“Oh, come on,” Reo presses, nudging Nagi toward you. “You look real nice tonight. Don’t tell me you’re just going to sit here all night while looking like that.”

The warmth of Reo’s arm brushing against yours sends a strange buzz through you. Nagi watches quietly, an amused glint in his eyes, as though content to let Reo take the lead in whatever this is.

“You don’t have a boyfriend, right?” Nagi asks suddenly, his voice calm but cutting through the noise around you.

The question startles you, and your answer comes almost automatically. “I don’t.”

“Good,” Reo murmurs, his voice dropping to a suggestive whisper. “Then no one’s going to mind if we take you home tonight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You almost choke on your drink, coughing slightly as you gape at him. “Wait, what?”

“Take you home,” Reo repeats, his smile slow and deliberate as if testing how far he can push. “You, me, and Nagi. What do you say? We’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

Nagi’s lips quirk into a faint smile, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Reo’s kidding… mostly.” His tone is dry, but there’s an edge of intrigue that makes it hard to tell where the joke ends.

Your pulse quickens, confusion and a strange heat mingling as you glance between them. Reo’s boldness is dizzying while Nagi’s quiet amusement only adds to your disorientation.

“I… I’m flattered,” you stammer, your voice wavering. “But I’m not interested.”

“Aww c’mon! Give us a chance?” Reo pleads, lightly touching your bare arms.

“I’m really-”

You wonder if this is just a game to him or something more. But before you can untangle your thoughts, a firm hand lands on the counter to your left, the loud cutting through the tension like a blade.

You turn your head to see Hiori, his smile strained but unwavering. His gaze flickers between you before settling on Reo.

“Mind if I borrow Miss Journalist for a while?” he asks smoothly, though his words leave no room for argument.

Reo raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin unfaltering. “Alright, alright. But I’ll get my dance one day, Miss Journalist! Think about it!”

Hiori doesn’t wait for a reply, instead, he places a gentle but firm hand on your lower back, guiding you away from the bar as Reo and Nagi watch the both of you saunter away.

"Hey," a small smile plays on Hiori’s lips as he greets you.

"Hi."

The balcony door slides shut behind him, muting the pounding bass and chatter from the dance floor. It’s just the two of you now, isolated from the noise, the cool autumn air biting at your skin.

You take a good look at Hiori. A white t-shirt tucked into matching trousers, paired with a soft navy cardigan that clings to his frame. He looks effortlessly put together, as always.

"Ya alright?" he asks, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah," you lie, the words feel heavier than they should.

"What was that about?" Hiori frowns, tilting his head slightly.

"I… think Reo was asking me to uh… sleep with him and Nagi? Are they like, together?" you blurt out, half-laughing, trying to lighten the tension you can already feel brewing.

"Yeah, they are. Pretty low-key 'bout it. Wild, huh?" he chuckles, and for a moment, the tension eases.

But the silence that follows grows heavy. For a minute, neither of you talk. The soft whistle of the wind and the distant hum of the city fill the void between you, but neither of you moves to break it. Finally, you speak.

"You don’t text me anymore," you say suddenly, the accusation sharp.

"Ya never replied," Hiori counters just as quickly, his tone flat but the edge unmistakable.

You bite your lip. "I didn’t know what to say. It felt like you were accusing me of something."

Now, Hiori looks guilty, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Just… just stop tryin’ to avoid this. Shuttin’ me out isn’t going to fix the problem."

"I wasn’t shutting you out," you argue, but even you don’t believe it. "I just—didn’t know how to respond. It felt like no matter what I said, it wouldn’t be enough."

"And ya thought ignorin’ me was better? Just pretendin’ nothin’ happened?" His voice rises, frustration simmering to the surface.

"What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, it was just work. I’m not interested in Nagi or Manshine City.’ What am I to you to have to defend myself like that?" you snap back, your voice trembling.

"I don’t know!" Hiori snaps back, his frustration breaking through. "I thought we were close enough to say things like that to each other!"

"And your message had no emojis!" your words overlap with Hiori. It was definitely a petty statement but at this point, your emotions are spilling over in ways even you don’t understand.

Hiori’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a dangerous softness. "Didya ever care about me?"

"Because it doesn’t feel like ya do. Ya ignored me when we won. I looked for ya. I know ya saw me. But ya wouldn’t even look my way.." His voice cracks and you see the hurt he’s been burying.

"Do ya know what that felt like?" His voice is a whisper, pleading.

You know the answer. That it hurt like a bitch. Because you felt the same pain when both of you went on the silent treatment for weeks. Embarrassment flooded your chest.

This could’ve been resolved easily by just talking things through. This confrontation could’ve been avoided and saved you both the time. But no.

Instead, you let the hurt fester even further, creating this invisible barrier between the two of you. And now, the blame game is on. And it doesn’t even make sense.

"It wasn’t about you!" Before you can even think, your words tumbling out in desperation. "It was for work. I-I didn’t want to be seen as the Bastard München… fangirl."

"Why not?" Hiori’s voice rises, taken aback by your words. "We ain’t good enough fer ya? Or is it just me? Am I not good enough fer ya?"

The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you momentarily stunned. "I didn’t say that," you whisper, your voice trembling.

"And why should that matter?" Hiori snaps, his voice raw with emotion. "Why does it feel like yer always running away from me?"

Even Hiori himself can’t comprehend why he’s so frustrated. He’s felt betrayal from his parents before. For them caring more about his stature as an athlete than his well-being as their son.

But this one’s different.

He knows how petty he is being. But he can’t help himself not be vulnerable around you. All reason, all logic thrown out of the window because of you.

All he can think at this point is how good it felt talking to you about work and games. How good it felt when you would talk about football with him with such a glimmer in your eyes that it fascinates him to see how you view the sport.

How it felt good when you would run up to him to interview him and the team as you guys exchange knowing smiles, fingers grazing just barely. All he knows is that you are magnetic.

Even right now, all he can think about is being close to you.

You turn away from him. A shiver runs down your spine, regretting not wearing something more warm for this party.

I can’t do this. Not now, you thought.

“Please leave me alone. For now. I can’t do this, Hiori.”

The autumn air nips are your arms. Instinctively, you cross your arm in hopes of warming yourself, eyes gazing away from Hiori still. A warm hand envelopes one of yours and you feel the thick cardigan drapes over you, shielding you from the cold wind.

Hiori’s gaze softens, but his voice remains firm. "M’not leaving until ya tell me what’s going on. Why are ya pushing me away?"

Your shoulders slump as the weight of it all crashes down on you. "Because I feel guilty, okay?" you say. "I don’t want you to think I’m using you."

"People talk," you continue, your voice breaking. "All I hear is how I’m some opportunist, bandwagoning on Bastard München—on you."

You swallow hard, your chest tightening. "I don’t know what this is," you finally admit, gesturing between the two of you.

"I don’t know what we are, or what I’m even allowed to hope for. And I don’t want to push you or cross a line, but it’s—" Your voice breaks, tears threatening to spill any moment.

"It’s like I’m trying to walk on this invisible tightrope, and I’m scared of messing it all up."

Hiori’s gaze softens, but you keep going, unable to stop now. "I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know how to navigate this—whatever this is—without hurting you or myself or both. And why should you care, right?" you add bitterly, the words tasting like poison.

Hiori steps closer, his voice breaking. "I care. Yer the one person who made me feel like more than just a player. And it hurts like hell to feel like I don’t matter to ya."

"You do matter," you whisper, your voice trembling. "You’re the one thing I think about when I work, Hiori. You’re the reason I believe in myself. But you’re… you’re s-so out of reach, and I’m terrified of ruining what little we have."

Your voice quivers as you reply, "And I don’t know how to fix it, Hiori. I don’t even know where to begin. And it’s not fair to you. You’re you—amazing and steady and… everything I’m not."

He closes the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders. "Dontcha get it? I don’t need us to have all the answers now. Just need ya to stop running."

Tears stream down your face as the weight of his words sinks in. "I’m scared," you whisper.

"And ya think I’m not?" he shoots back, his voice cracking.

"Yer all I think about, and it terrifies me. But I don’t care. I’m here. I’m stayin’. And I’ll wait as long as it takes fer ya to figure out who ya are—because I already know who ya are to me."

For a moment, the world holds still. Then Hiori closes the distance between you, his hands cupping your face gently. He hesitates, searching your eyes for permission, and when you don’t pull away, he leans in.

"Yer amazing," he whispers, breath hot against your lips. "And ya don’t even realize it."

The kiss is soft at first, testing, but quickly deepens as the emotions between you spill over. His lips are warm, grounding you, and when his tongue brushes yours, it leaves you breathless.

You melt under his touch. The kiss itself is intoxicating, as if you’re drowning, lightheaded by the swirling emotions and the budding heat within you.

When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. "I like ya too, y’know" he murmurs. "M’sorry fer doubting ya. Fer making ya feel like ya had to carry this alone."

He kisses you again, slower this time as if savoring the moment. "I’m sorry for being a coward. For not talking to you."

You clutch at his shirt, your tears mingling with his kiss. "I’m sorry too," you whisper into his mouth.

He smiles faintly, brushing a tear from your cheek. "All this because my message didn’t have an emoji, huh?" he laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips.

You let out a shaky laugh, the tension between you finally giving way to something lighter. In this moment, with him, you feel the weight of your worries start to lift, even if just for now.

In this moment, with him, you wish the night would never end.

amari's notes: struggled to write this one, i wanted to really get this chapter out quickly but i wasnt satisfied with my first drafts so i had to rewrite it so many times. i really wanted this to come out well. this chapter is close to my heart, esp when hiori and miss journalist talk about their insecurities. anw, I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a reply or drop an ask. i'll greatly appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

#blue lock #hiori yo #blue lock x reader #hiori yo x reader #bllk hiori yo #bllk x reader #bllk #nagireo

134 notes · View notes

sc0tters · 2 years ago

Text

The Other Man | Trevor Zegras

summary: your fling with Trevor ended months ago, now that you’ve got a boyfriend you can’t help but miss the Ducks star.

song: Thinkin’ about Me - Morgan Wallen

request: yes/no

warnings: mature scenes, fem receiving oral, p in v, swearing, toxic Trevor, mentions of cheating (sorry Mason!)

word count: 3.8k

authors note: Wasn’t gonna post this with super smut Thursday cause it wasn’t based around smut. Is it wrong of me to say that writing this was actually really enjoyable..? I don’t usually highlight cheating either but I felt like this song called for it. If you want to check out the rest of the celly you can do so here!

Your self restraint was being tested tonight.

Trevor threw back his beer as he watched Mason with his arms around you. The way Canadian let his hand settle just above your ass as you looked up at him with a smile when he mumbled something into your ear “you two know each other?” Mason asked as he followed your line of sight when he locked eyes with his teammate.

You were quick to shake your head “ended a long time ago,” you confessed as you pushed yourself forward to kiss his lips. It was needy and hungry because you were desperate to show Trevor that you had moved on.

Up until three months ago you two had a fuck buddy relationship that spanned over four months that you started with your neighbour. It was after a massive loss that the ducks were dealt at home and Trevor came to yours seeking a drink when one thing led to another and he ended up in your bed.

Things were going really well for the two of you, neither one wanted anything serious as you had just gotten out of a serious relationship. But one night when you had course work up to your eyeballs that you had to complete it was a rude awakening when you were met with the sounds of female moans from Trevor’s bedroom. It shouldn’t have struck as big of a nerve as it did because you knew that he wasn’t your boyfriend and you weren’t his girlfriend. But it just sort of felt like if he wanted to start sleeping with other people he should have done it in month one or two of your ‘relationship’ not in the forth. Naturally with your hurt pride you sent him a text ending it the next morning.

This was the first time you had seen Trevor since and you knew that he knew he was having an effect on you. So you didn’t stop Mason when his hand trailed the bottom of your dress or when he cupped your ass as it caused you to moan into his mouth. That gave the boy the space to let his tongue go into your mouth, his beer tasted cheaper than the one Trevor usually drank.

The one you were used to having in your mouth instead.

Mason smirked at the sound of his teammates whistling “sorry baby,” he turned a shade of pink as he was reminded about the fact that you two weren’t alone.

You sucked at your teeth as you frowned “don’t be,” you shook your head when you saw in the mirror that was on the wall that Trevor had walked behind you “that was hot.” You pointed out as you let your thumb clean the boys lip to void it of the smudged lipstick that was on it.

Jamie had just lost another game of beer pong as he let out a groan “come play Mase!” He called out as the fellow Canadian was his usual partner for doubles games.

Your boyfriend sent you a sorry look “I can survive alone,” you smiled as you motioned to him to go “I should fix my lipstick anyways.” You added causing the grin on his face to increase.

Mason tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear “guess I should do this before you do then,” he mumbled as he hooked his fingers under your jaw before he captured your lips in another kiss.

Only stopping when your hand pressed on his chest “go,” you motioned to him to walk to his teammate who clearly was still waiting.

The walk to the bathroom was much quieter than you thought it would be, with the only interruption coming when you were about to shut the door “see you’ve got a new friend.” Trevor mumbled as he pushed his hand between the wall and door.

You rolled your eyes as you walked to the sink “you jealous?” You scoffed as you looked through your clutch to find your lipstick.

The centre player smirked as he made his way over to the wall next to the sink so he could lean against it “there ain’t no reason to be,” he shook his head causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

Trevor only continued “not when you’re wearing my favourite dress,” it was true, that little black dress was something that Trevor had picked out for you when you were online shopping one day and the boy had come over.

He leaned forward so that his mouth was resting against your ear “you knew Mase was my teammate,” he added smirking when you nodded “you knew I’d be here tonight and that’s why you’re wearing this little outfit.” You hated how Trevor knew you like he did.

But when he crossed his arms and stared at your chest that only had your little necklace with a heart on it you were reminded of the fact that Mason was outside “I should go.” The uncertainty in your voice made it sound like you didn’t even know if it was a question or a statement that fell from your lips.

When he didn’t move you had to push past him “don’t forget that my door is also open when you realise he can’t make you feel as good as I can.” The smug look on Trevor’s face made you want to slap him.

You spun back around to face him “Mase has me coming for days.” You spat as you shoved your finger into his chest before you walked back out of the bathroom. It took you a moment to compose yourself as you forced a smile onto your face “you winning?” You asked Mason as you found your place under his arm.

The Canadian wasn’t a idiot when he saw Trevor send him a smirk as the American left the bathrooms “always,” he murmured bringing his lips down to yours once more for a quick peck.

Trevor wasn’t jealous, it wasn’t a word that was in his dictionary. He was surprised when you walked into the bar and he was even more surprised when you walked in with Mason hot on your tail.

The two of your personalities just didn’t work together, Mason was calm and collected often having to be forced to go out. Whereas you were this wild child often dragging Trevor to parties whilst you two were in your fuck buddy relationship. You needed someone who didn’t need to control you but knew how to put up with you. Your needs in bed weren’t vanilla either, and whilst the boys didn’t talk about what or who they did in bed Trevor could have put money on his teammate not living up to your standards.

The thing you said back in the bathroom? That was simply a lie, and even Trevor knew it.

Yes Mason would make sure that you finished at the end of your session. But he didn’t have you going more than one round unless it was a big night. Yet he’d always feel so bad when you struggled to walk the next morning (a sign that you felt meant you had been fucked right) that he’d treat you like you were glass the next few times you were in bed.

His amusement didn’t last for long though because by the time he got home he was met with the sounds of your moans “right there Mase,” you groaned as your head dug itself into your mattress.

Mason had come home with you to drop you off but the look you gave him as you kissed him Goodnight had him following you upstairs within seconds.

You were close to your high as the Canadian wrapped his arms around your thighs in an attempt to make sure that you didn’t move “so sweet,” he mumbled as he let his tongue swirl around your clit.

It was like you knew Trevor had just arrived home when your moans became louder “fuck I’m gonna come,” you announced as your fingers went to the boys hair to make sure that he didn’t pull away again.

The American grew irritated at the way his cock was against him as it grew hard in his shorts.

Your near scream was met with the sound of Trevor slamming his bathroom door shut as he was in dire need of a shower to help his little problem.

Not even an hour later Mason was already leaving your apartment. It was one stark difference between the two boys, Mason was this rule follower who adored the idea of restrictions but Trevor on the other hand loved breaking each and every obstacle that one could put in his way. Tomorrow morning the Ducks had an early training session, the Canadian didn’t have his gear but he also didn’t want to accidentally wake you up before he left.

The gesture should have been cute to you, it really should have warmed your heart that he thought about you like that. But instead it made you want to roll your eyes. When Trevor spent the night he’d wake you up being between your thighs regardless of what time it was. And if they needed to be at the airport really early to head out for a road trip the American would take you right to the point before you came and he’d leave you there until he got back only to give you the most mouth watering sex you could literally imagine.

You frowned at you didn’t want Mason to leave yet “I’ll see you sometime soon,” he smiled as he pecked your lips sending you a final glance before making his way down the hallway. Trevor smirked as he heard his teammate walk passed his door. You usually did everything in your power to stop Trevor from leaving, it wasn’t because you were clingy it was just the fact that your evenings always ended with sex the next morning.

The American also couldn’t say no to the sight of you wrapped up in a sheet with your swollen lips in a pout. Before you Trevor didn’t even stay at a girls place after sex he also didn’t usually let them come over to his place. But that was rule number two that he had broken for you, it was nice to see you in his sheets being so fucked out that you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

The universe was cruel to you, it let your panties grow wet as the thought of your next door neighbour grew stronger. You sat on the couch as you sent Mason a message hoping that it would distract your brain, he planned to take you out tomorrow evening. Just the two of you, because you apparently deserved to be treated like his princess.

Those comments made you sick, not because you didn’t like hearing them but because you wished that they were from the boy next door.

You sighed as you swallowed the shot of vodka that was in front of you in an attempt to get a boost of confidence or to stop your mind from listening to itself. You didn’t want to go to Trevor, truly you did not.

That’s what you told yourself when you got off of the couch, when you slipped on your slides, when you walked out of your apartment and even to his, you repeated that same message.

The alarm bells rung through your ears getting louder with each knock on the door.

Knock

It was like clock work for Trevor, the way the smirk fell in his lips as he opened the door, the way his eyes traveled down your body. Letting him get the chance to take in what you looked like in your big T-shirt that was probably Masons and some Nike shorts.

The Ducks player licked his lips as he looked at you “knew you’d be here,” Trevor confessed as he pushed the door open a little wider so that you could come in.

You grumbled as you sent him a glare “you’re an ass you know that right?” You scoffed as you crossed your arms unintentionally pushing your boobs up in the process.

It made the boy laugh “care to elaborate?” He asked as he rubbed his hand along his jaw.

Your fingers ran through your hair “I’m meant to be happy,” you pointed out as you sucked at your teeth “Mase is good to me, a good boyfriend, a good lover everything.” Tears began to well in your eyes you were so frustrated.

The boy found it amusing as he let his fingers run along the ends of your hair “but?” Trevor trailed off as he waited for you to continue.

It wasn’t meant to be this hard “but even as he’s balls deep inside of me I still can’t shake the thought of you!” You confessed raising your voice as it actually made you feel slightly better “but that’s not to say that he doesn’t have good cock cause trust me-” your speech was cut off when Trevor pulled you towards him by the hem of your shirt “you talk too damn much,” he mumbled as he kissed you. The feeling of his lips on yours was missed, the way his teeth clattered against yours made you want to laugh at how eager Trevor was.

The boy furrowed his eyebrows as you pulled away from him “I can’t do this,” you announced as you remembered that you weren’t a single girl anymore.

It made him laugh “look at you trying to be a good girl now,” Trevor cooed as he ran his thumb over your lower lip. All of the things you two had been through, the sex in his car, the blow jobs in the janitors closet at the arena. It seemed like your morals were finally ready to call him out.

Your chest felt heavy “Mase-” you reminded him of the man you called your boyfriend “he isn’t going to find out.” The hockey player pointed out as he placed his hands on either side of your face as he tilted it up to look at him.

Trevor licked his lips as he could see that you were actually thinking about it “promise?” you pushed your lips into a fine line “promise,” he nodded as he kissed you. This time it was sweeter, the neediness that was in the first one was now like a gentle caress of warmth.

You groaned as he softly bit your lip when he pulled away “want to show me what Mason has been getting?” Trevor asked as he let his fingers dance over the hem of your shirt. Again the desperation in your response only fuelled his thoughts that Mason hadn’t been treating you in the way you needed him to “please,” you begged as his cold fingers moved to your waist.

To the untrained eye you two looked like a couple who hadn’t seen each other in months, but honestly there was no love between you two. The relationship was built on a totally animalistic set up. Each of your brain set ups had been edited, broken down and rebuilt. The level of dopamine that was released each time you were ended up in bed with Trevor only increased the more you did it. In short this relationship wasn’t from love, it was from an addiction.

You whimpered as the cool air hit your nipples “and he barely even marked you,” Trevor tsked his tongue as he looked at at your bare chest. There wasn’t even a hickey on your thighs, where Masons head had been.

Trevor pushed you against his bed as you let out a gasp “should we see how wet you are?” He asked in a husky tone as he let lips lips attach to your neck it caused you to groan “want your eyes to watch me as I go down to your breasts,” the boy mumbled as he let his mouth go over the stiff peak whilst his hand went to the other.

You let your hand slap over your mouth “don’t stop those moans now,” the hockey player warned as he pulled your shorts off of your legs.

It made him smile as he leaned forward to kiss you “so pretty,” Trevor cooed as he watched you squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling of his shorts fabric and bulge that was encapsulated in it rubbed against your clit.

You didn’t know what to say as your mouth went dry “just fuck me,” you begged as he ran his fingers over your jaw “there’s my needy girl.” He smiled as he kissed the shell of your ear.

Usually the foreplay was at the forefront of your nights together but right now you were both so horny that neither one of you could even think straight. So rather than teasing you Trevor decided to listen as he tapped his fingers on your lower lip “suck,” he directed you to listen to him.

Your jaw went loose as you felt his fingers land on your tongue.

Like always you listened as you let your tongue swirl around his two digits.

It made him groan as he pictured his cock in your mouth instead, the one bit of love Trevor did hold in this was for your mouth. The way your tongue didn’t attempt to over sensitise him but rather just aid his efforts in reaching that high. Your mouth sucked him dry and as athletic as Trevor was, even he needed a moment to breath after he came. One time he actually had to fall onto his bed because his legs turned into jelly.

Both of those things together made your mouth a close second to your pussy when it came to Trevor’s heaven on earth.

Those two wet fingers danced over your clit as you brought your hands up to tease your nipples yourself. That was something that always made the hockey player laugh, you seemed to be obsessed with being teased. And when he didn’t do it to you, you seemed to remind him to do it again. It was one of the reasons why he knew you were too much for Mason. Not whilst you even managed to keep Trevor on his toes.

That’s why as your body began to hallucinate on that path of pleasure the hockey player pulled away causing you to whine at the loss of contact “gonna give you what you really want.” Trevor explained as he leaned forward to kiss your lips.

Your fingers fiddled with the buttons of his shorts as you remained as impatient as normal “please,” you mumbled as you pulled your lips into a pout.

The competition of who had the least amount of clothes on was quickly evened out as the hockey players boxers came down with his shorts. His cock slapped against his torso as he was now achingly sore, your little noises from earlier had started his boner and it seemed that the snow ball just never stopped rolling down that hill since.

Your mouth watered as you watched him roll the condom over his boner “glad to see I still have that effect on you,” Trevor teased causing you to go red. The boy ran his protected cock over your clit as you shuddered “my pretty girl,” he cooed as he thrusted into you.

Somehow he had this captivating ability to make your heart pound out of your chest in the most dirty of moments.

He hooked his fingers under her neck as he pulled you closer so that he didn’t have to lean so far down when he kissed you.

The feeling of him inside of your was something you didn’t realise that you had missed as much as you did, sure he was the image you thought of whenever you had your hand between your thighs but he didn’t need to know that.

You locked your feet behind him “always been so scared I’m gonna leave you,” he teased as you had been edged by Trevor one too many times. Yes you liked the teasing but you were far too impatient when he screwed with you like that.

The hockey player dropped his head as he nipped at your neck. Your core clenched around him as his hand lazily found it’s way between your bodies as he let his thumb hit your clit at a pace that made your toes curl.

It was a good thing that you were the only two apartments with tenants because the whole floor would have heard the noises that fell from your lips “keep fucking me so good,” you begged as your head nuzzled further into the mattress.

Each time you clench around Trevor he found the pace of his thumb only increasing “this pussy was made for me,” he blurted out with a groan at the blissful noises that left your mouth.

A string of his name came through your lips in the form of a whisper “bet your boy couldn’t made you feel like this.” Trevor mumbled as he lifted your legs making the angle that he thrusted into you deeper.

At this point you could barely remember what your name was “belongs to you,” you mumbled almost causing Trevor to fall forward with the confession.

Maybe parts of him were exposed to the jealous touch because your announcement turned him feral “wanna hear you screw my name,” the hockey player had a shit eating grin slapped on his face as the moans speed out of your lips “gonna come,” you announced not having time to really think about it.

Trevor let his hand fall to your jaw as he was now using his core to keep himself upright “together,” he nodded in your direction as he sped up his pace for the final time as he wanted to finish strong and not have to push you through another round because you were even uncertain that could would last through it.

You came so hard that you swore you saw stars as your eyes screwed shut and white specks cast over the sea of black.

It almost knocked the wind out of you as Trevor pulled out of you letting his cock go soft.

He laughed at the sight of you grabbing at the sheet beneath you “I’ll go get you a cloth.” The hockey player announced smiling when you just nodded. By the time he got back you were already fast asleep.

The next morning had came as Trevor watched in awe as you continued to sleep, the little mutters came from your lips as you seemed to dream about something. You looked so peaceful as you rolled over and nuzzled your head further into your pillow.

Yes his next move was one of of a dickhead, he knew that but that didn’t stop Trevor from reaching over you to grab his phone. Or from taking that picture of you as he sent it to the one person you didn’t want him to.

To Mase: Sorry Bud 🤷🏻‍♂️

#trevor zegras x y/n #ambers 150 celly #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras oneshot #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagines #Trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #nhl smut #hockey smut #oneshots #imagines #amber writes fics

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kaiyax1 · 3 months ago

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posting chapter 1 here cause I feel like it

Ford couldn’t believe it.

His muse, his greatest ally, the being he had trusted more than anyone, was a monster.

The portal hadn’t been for science. It hadn’t been for discovery. It had been a doorway—a trap. A way for Bill to enter his world.

His heart pounded as he staggered toward the switch. He had to shut it down.

But before he could reach it, a searing pain exploded through his body. His muscles locked, his bones twisted and burned as though they were being crushed from the inside out. He gasped, falling to his knees, his vision blurring at the edges.

The pain was unbearable.

Then—

Nothing.

A voice slithered into his mind, smooth and sharp.

“Heya, Sixer! Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

Ford’s eyes snapped open.

He wasn’t in his lab. He wasn’t anywhere. It was a void—nothing but black stretching infinitely around him. And standing in the middle of it, grinning down at him, was Bill Cipher.

Rage surged through Ford like wildfire. “I won’t fall for your tricks again, Cipher! I won’t continue the portal!”

Bill snickered. “Oh, buddy, you really think you have a say in this? That’s adorable! But let’s be real—you wanna finish it. You need to.”

Ford clenched his fists. “I know what you’re trying to do! You’re using me to open a gateway for yourself—”

Bill sighed dramatically, floating closer. “Wow, way to make it sound so sinister! Sixer, buddy, pal—who do ya think inspired you to build the thing in the first place? The portal’s your greatest creation! Your life’s work! You really wanna just… throw that all away?”

Ford opened his mouth to argue, but something cracked in his mind—

Bill snapped his fingers—

And everything went blank.

When Ford woke up, he was back in the lab.

His head throbbed. The air felt heavy, like he had been asleep for days. Maybe he had. He wasn’t sure.

He pushed himself up, blinking as he took in the room. The portal. It stood in front of him, dark and lifeless, its metal frame coated in dust.

His thoughts were jumbled. What had he been doing?

And then it clicked.

Right. He was working on the portal.

Ford shook his head, reaching for his notes. He had wasted enough time. But as he studied the machinery, something felt… off. The wires were tangled, panels were dented, some components were outright missing. He frowned, flipping through his notebook. Had someone tampered with it?

The only other person who had access to the lab was—

Fiddleford.

Ford’s jaw tightened. It had to be him.

His former research partner had always been skittish, always afraid of what they were doing. He had tried to warn Ford, hadn’t he? Rambling on about forces beyond their understanding, about things he had seen. Had Fiddleford really been so desperate to stop the project that he’d sabotage it?

The thought made Ford’s stomach twist.

He had trusted him.

He shook his head, gripping his pen tightly. It didn’t matter. Fiddleford was gone—had made that decision himself. Ford didn’t need him.

He’d finish this alone.

Ford buried himself in his work.

Days passed—he wasn’t sure how many. He barely slept, barely ate, barely left the lab. Every time he closed his eyes, he heard Bill’s voice whispering in his ear.

“Almost there, genius! Just a few more tweaks…”

But no matter how hard he worked, no matter how many calculations he corrected, he kept running into problems. He understood physics, quantum mechanics—but engineering? That had never been his strong suit.

He hated to admit it, but without Fiddleford, progress had slowed to a crawl.

He considered calling him. Maybe—maybe if he just explained it logically, Fiddleford would listen. Maybe he could convince him that the portal was too important to abandon.

But then he remembered the way Fiddleford had looked at him before he left.

Terrified.

Like Ford was the monster.

The words Bill had whispered to him came creeping back.

“Trust no one.”

Ford inhaled sharply. No. Fiddleford would only try to stop him again. He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t risk losing the project.

He’d do it alone.

No matter what.

If anyone has any tips or pointers please lmk, I’m always looking to improve my fanfic writing! I’ve already finished chapter 2 (it’s a bit longer with more dialogue, and I totally didn’t not do my math work just to write it..)

#gravity falls #ford pines #stanford pines #bill cipher gravity falls #bill cipher #billford #gravity falls au #memory erased ford au #gravity falls fanfiction

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transformers-nerd-13 · 5 months ago

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And here it is; the final part in my analysis of the first three episodes of season one of G1! The analyses of the first two episodes can be found on my page so go check those out if you're so inclined (I'm still learning tumblr so I don't know how to link posts yet lol). This post will be a bit long, so be warned of that. With that out of the way, let's get into it!

We start with a recap of what happened in the last two episodes to remind the viewer of the events that have taken place.

We're right where we left off with Optimus dramatically rolling down the cliff in awkward slow motion. Once he finally stops rolling, the other Autobots help him up onto his wheels. Optimus isn't worried about himself however; he's more worried about Roller who, incidentally, shows no sign of having been involved in an explosion. Prime struggles to transform back into his bot mode for a few seconds but eventually gets there with some encouragement from his fellow bots. After he transforms, he seems entirely fine, so we're not gonna talk about the blast he took seconds prior. Ratchet comments that "That was some blast you took", reminding Optimus that Bee and Sparkplug are still in the remains of the mines.

After a bit of digging, Jazz finds the two and gets them out with the help of Prowl.

(can we talk about how cute the above screenshots are??) Optimus congratulates Bee and Sparkplug on burying the Decepticons for good. Oh hey, guess what?

The cons are completely fine, their energon cubes are still functional, and they fly out of the mines unscathed. Good job guys.

Ironhide gets (understandably) frustrated and goes after the cons because the Autobots could still fly at this point. Bluestreak goes after Ironhide to stop him, but when Ironhide makes it clear that he's not backing down, Bluestreak joins him in his fight.

Ironhide fires on Skywarp (whether he actually hit him or not I have no clue) and Skywarp teleports behind Ironhide and Bluestreak, firing a missile at them but missing. Bluestreak says "It's like fighting a shadow!" I feel like this is an easily fixable problem--y'all can hover midair; we've seen you do this; you could just turn around and fire back at him??

Skywarp fires and he misses, he fires and he misses, this goes on for several minutes (if anyone gets the reference put it in the comments) until he finally manages to hit Ironhide, who falls from the sky into a conveniently located lake.

Bluestreak goes to rescue Ironhide and all of the other Autobots appear from the void to gawk at the rescue from the shore. Jazz uses his grappling hook like a rescue line once again to reel Bluestreak and Ironhide to shore. Ironhide says that he can't move, but Optimus points out "At least you can still talk old buddy." Despite saying that he can't move, Ironhide moves his arm just fine to emphasize his words while he's telling Ratchet what got damaged on his body. Ratchet transforms into his ambulance mode and Bluestreak and Jazz put Ironhide in the back of Ratchet's alt mode.

Ironhide and Ratchet are the same height with virtually the same alt mode; their toys were just recolors of each other; so how the heck did he fit back there?? Ironhide starts to tell an old war story, but Optimus tells him to "Save the war stories hot shot. Just remember that there's a thin line between being a hero, and being a memory." Which is just a great line. Jazz jokes that maybe Ironhide is ready for a cushy office job (idk how he would even obtain an office job in the middle of a war, let alone on Earth, I doubt he'd even fit in an office building) but Ironhide says he'll be back in action after Ratchet fixes him up. The bots start driving (presumably back to the ark) before we cut to Spike writing in his diary again, this time about how Optimus Prime would make a neat president and honestly? I agree.

Awkward cut to Hound sort of teasing Ravage by holding the key to his cage just out of Ravage's reach. Hound comments that he doesn't think Ravage likes being a prisoner; Mirage says that he can't blame him and that he's surprised that the cons haven't come to rescue him. Hound isn't surprised; the cons don't care about anyone; not even their own. He makes a hologram of Megatron, but it just seems to piss Ravage off. Mirage asks Hound to make him a hologram of a big house with a four car garage when they get back to Cybertron; the holograms look so real that nobody'll know the difference. Mirage. You turn into an F1 racing car. Why do you need a 4 car garage?? Are you going to host a lot of sleepovers when you get back to Cybertron?? And yeah nobody'll know the difference until they try to open a door or go upstairs and their body phases through the hologram.

This gives Hound an idea however; to make a big hologram of a rocket fuel base to trick the cons into coming to the bots on their terms. He shares the idea with autobot high command (aka Prime, Prowl and Jazz) who all agree to it. Hound goes back to tell Mirage about a (fake) secret stash of rocket fuel 140 kilometers due west, telling him that there's enough rocket fuel at that base to make four trips to Cybertron. The two go to tell Ironhide about the base to make him feel better. The two leave but Hound drops the keys to Ravage's cage. Ravage gets ahold of the key, unlocks his cage, and escapes. Hound, Mirage, Prowl and Jazz who were hiding behind a rock (for some reason) see Ravage getting away at the speed of ZOOM. The four go after Ravage but he ends up escaping. The four go back to just outside the Ark where Optimus and Cliffjumper are standing for some reason.

The four tell Optimus that Ravage got away and all look like the shocked Pikachu meme.

It's kind of unclear if they wanted Ravage to escape to trick the cons or not, it's kind of like the writers didn't know either and just never went back to clear it up.

Cut to the cons where Ravage reports back to Megatron about the rocket base Hound was talking about earlier. And we never hear Ravage speak again. Megatron commends Ravage for a job well done. Starscream and Megatron get into it again about Starscream wanting to be leader of the cons. Starscream says that "Now is the time for action, not words! I am the leader of the future!"

Megatron isn't using words though; so far he's only been using action, so this line doesn't make much sense.

Megatron insults Starscream's nonexistent leadership skills and Starscream takes that personally. He tries to shoot Megatron, but Soundwave (who's also there btw) calls out to his leader. Megatron uses a shield that we never see again to block the shot and somehow that one shot made Starscream run out of ammo (I guess he forgot to reload after the fight with the bots??). Megatron threatens to shoot Starscream while Starscream begs Megatron not to shoot him. Megatron shoots him anyway before declaring that the Decepticons would attack the base at sunrise. What is it with the Decepticons and attacking places at sunrise??

Cut to the next day at sunrise when Hound makes the hologram of the rocket base (how he knows what a human rocket base looks like I will never know) and the Decepticons show up immediately after the hologram is made (did they not see him make the hologram??)

The cons attack the hologram rocket base where the Autobots have appeared from the void during the commercial break all wearing lab coats which they quickly ditch to better fight the cons (where did they find such big lab coats and why??).

Not long into the fight, the bots realize that the cons they're fighting are decoys made by the cons out of scrap metal and junk (impressive engineering I guess but how did that work??) and the real Megatron reveals that he was onto the autobot's scheme from the beginning (how. Just how) and that the real cons have been at the real rocket base gathering fuel to make Energon cubes.

But in the next shot we see the cons just arriving at the rocket base. (I guess Megatron overestimated the speed of his soldiers). The humans at the base try to defend themselves but their weapons are completely useless against the cons. The cons get the energon they need and Megatron tells the cons to prepare for blast off.

Cut to the Autobots who have decided to attack the cons directly. Optimus asks for volunteers for the battle ahead and literally every Autobot steps forward; even Spike and Sparkplug volunteer. The bots transform and roll out.

Quick cut to the cons where Megatron talks about how close they are to conquest.

Cut back to the bots who encircle the con's base as the cons board their space cruiser. Before the cons can board, the bots make their presence known and the bots and cons duke it out once again.

Somewhere in the fight, Spike throws a rock at Starscream's blaster hard enough to knock the blaster off his arm (how did he do that??) and Prowl runs over Starscream's blaster rendering it useless. The cons gain a temporary victory over the bots and board the space cruiser while the bots shoot at them but miss horribly because once again everyone in this show has the aim of an absolute Stormtrooper. The cons take off in their new space cruiser. Jazz tells Prime that it's over; they've lost, but Prime says that it's not over yet. He borrows Sideswipe's rocket pack (that we never see again) to go after the con's ship.

Cut to the cons where Megatron says that they've seen the last of the Autobots and Optimus Prime, but Starscream says "Not yet we haven't" as he spots Optimus flying after their ship.

The cons fire on Optimus and actually manage to hit him, sending the Autobot leader plummeting back to earth. He hits the ground pretty hard but claims that he's alright when Prowl and Jazz help him up. The bots then notice that Mirage is missing and seem pretty calm about his not being there.

Cut to the cons where Starscream is trying once again to usurp Megatron (oh hey his blaster is back), who warns Starscream that once he becomes the leader, there will always be someone trying to take leadership from him, which makes me think Megatron is speaking from personal experience here; that’d be interesting. Maybe Megatron was once like Starscream, but he actually succeeded in taking leadership of the cons and regrets it on some level because now there’s a constant target on his back. It's revealed that Mirage snuck aboard the space cruiser and shoots the computers, causing the space cruiser to crash into the ocean. Mirage escapes before it crashes. He makes it back to the bots who congratulate him on defeating the cons.

Optimus commends Mirage for a job well done and Jazz says that they'd better get back to the ship since it still needs repairing. Spike (unprompted) asks Optimus if he can go to Cybertron with the bots when they go back. Optimus basically says "ask your dad" and Sparkplug says that Spike can go so long as he can go too. (Responsible parenting 101. Also how do they know that they’d survive on Cybertron?? Or is NASA getting involved and giving them space suits and food??) The bots transform and roll out.

Cut to later where Spike tells us while he's once again writing in his diary that since the Autobots prevented the Decepticons from stealing earth's resources (did they though? Cause it seems to me the cons got away with that), the governments of the world agreed to give the bots the energy they need to revitalize Cybertron, and that it was probably the first time that all the governments agreed on anything. (Since this was 1984, this was true. The only time--that I'm aware of--that all of the governments of the world ever actually agreed on anything in real life was in 1987; the Montreal Protocol; three years later, so at least that's accurate.)

Optimus tells Spike that they're ready to launch and Spike tells him that he'll be right there. Spike adds one more note in his diary that he's glad they don't have to worry about the cons anymore.

Cut to a shot of the ocean which fades into an underwater shot, showing us the Decepticon space cruiser that shows no sign of having crashed at the bottom of the ocean, as well as Megatron who leaves the cruiser and heads for the surface, leaving us with another cliffhanger.

Spike, you jinxed it.

And that was part three of Transformers; More than Meets the Eye. Just like the other two parts of More than Meets the Eye, it crams a lot into one episode, and a lot of it doesn't really make sense, but it's still a very fun watch. I feel like that's just the way it is when it comes to 80's cartoons.

Anyways, I hope this was enjoyable! My analysis of Fire in the Sky will probably be posted some time in the next few days, so stay tuned!

#transformers #maccadam #transformers g1 #optimus prime #soundwave #ravage #megatron #starscream #skywarp #bluestreak #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf ratchet #tf hound #tf mirage #tf cliffjumper #spike witwicky #sparkplug witwicky #episode analysis

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ennard-is-near · 5 months ago

Note

do you have any head canons for Michael afton post scoop? Or any head canons for Ennard? Perhaps how they interact with another? Idk maybe just a master list tbh, I’m hungry for more Fnaf Michael content and it’s a desert out here

Oooh do I ever. Anon thank you so much for sending me this ask, it’s gonna be a doozy. I’m going to separate this into a couple sections, “Things I’ve posted before”, “Michael”, “Ennard” and “Interaction”. I’ve also already posted some of my Michael Afton headcanons in a little list here

They call me irrigation the way I’m about to bring water to this desert. Okay? Let’s go.

Things I’ve Posted Before:

Post Scoop, Michael can’t focus his eyes or flick his eyes side to side. That is to say, he’s always looking straight ahead off into the distance. He can’t see things directly in front of him clearly, and has to turn his whole head to look at things to the left and right of him. This is sort of based off a couple things, first being that because I think the black voids in the final 8-bit scene are empty sockets, and the little white dots are just whatever stupid scraps of remnant are in there trying their damndest. They hardly function like real eyes, he can’t even really see that well even if you put aside all the other stuff. The second is a little more meta, but the gameplay, especially in 1, 3 and 6, where you have to be looking at something to know what’s there, also influences this hc a little.

Post-Scoop Michael also cannot talk. Well, he didn’t try that hard to and then gave up, buts he’s positive that he can’t. It’s not like he really needs to or anything, he maybe interacts with a dozen different living people in the forty-something years he was dead, and really what does he have to say to them anyway?

Michael’s kind of a biter. If you startle him he’ll turn around and bite you, and you will catch some weird diseases. His bite mark is super distinct, which leads into my next point:

He’s got really bad teeth. He’s also missing most of his tongue (this took him a couple months to notice, actually) and his lower jaw is not very well attached to the rest of his skull. It’s mostly from when Ennard forced a giant robot thing through his mouth, and a little bit of just general ware over time.

He’s buddies with a guy who works Tuesday nights at a convenience store near his house. Obviously they’re not really friends, but they form a strange bond where they’re sort of comfortable around each other. Michael only buys batteries and cigarettes every week. At first the guy is a little confused as to who this freak who smells so bad and wears gloves and sunglasses on summer nights is, but after a couple months he gets used to him. Obviously Michael never says anything to him, but the guy eventually plays a little game to figure out what his name is and sort of looks forward to seeing him. During FNaF 1, when Michael skips his regular Tuesday visit, the guy is actually pretty worried about him, figures he finally kicked the bucket or whatever. And then he comes in the next week and buys twice as many batteries and doesn’t miss another week until the guy eventually moves away. (Just realized I already said this in the linked post but I spent a long time on this so you can read it twice)

(About Ennard, not Michael) I’m a huge fan of the voice mimic thing. Literally my #1 in the whole series I think. Like just IMAGINE being Michael and you’ve been sent down to this basement to find your sister and what you found isn’t really your sister anymore, but she still is a little bit. And you know she’s trying to kill you and she’s become part of a weird wire monster, but whatever she is now sounds exactly like her. And it’s sitting there telling you things that you always wanted to hear from her, that she knows it was an accident and that she wants to see you again, but it’s not her. Even though a small part of you must wonder how bad it would really be if you just opened the doors… (This is not a headcanon really, I’m just a fan of this)

Ennard, while wearing Michael, was having the time of their life. Sort of poorly skipping and waving at people and trying really hard to mimic his voice (they never actually heard it, so they’re going off what Baby is saying he sounds like) to say hello to people. Everyone is like “Seems like Michael’s gonna kill himself” because that’s what usually happens after someone gets like that, but then he starts rotting and his neighbors realize he has a different issue and don’t care either way. Bc he lives in a suburban neighborhood and this is how they are. Ennard gets mad because people aren’t talking to them anymore.

Michael (New)

He’s so strange. He has a really weird psyche where he’s essentially convinced that he is only alive as some sort of punishment to him and that his only purpose is to kill his father. Despite this, he’s obviously pretty terrible at making progress towards his ultimate goal so he just spends a lot of time just sitting at the kitchen table and staring off into space. Not even doing anything, occasionally hallucinating but that’s about it.

As the years go on and he really starts to lose it, he actually goes outside more and is henseforth spotted more often by people other than his buddy. He doesn’t really want to be around a bunch of people, so it’s not like he’s going to the mall or anything, but it gets to the point where he doesn’t have really the capacity to care at all about anything except whatever he’s journeying outside for (and of course, his ultimate goal of killing William.) This is how Henry ends up figuring out what Michael’s been up to, he hears a rumor about a weird guy who’s been out lately and is like, “ah.”

He doesn’t have that much remnant in him. Like barely any. Honestly, it’s just enough to keep him conscious and stop him from decomposing to the point where he’s mostly goo. It was just whatever may have been on the scooper, which was likely very little as I’m sure William was careful about that, and a bit from Ennard. Sort of pathetic, really.

He can’t feel, smell or taste anything. The latter two don’t bother him at all but the touch thing is sort of annoying. Eventually he gets used to needing to constantly look (his weird eyes make this especially annoying) everywhere to make sure he knows where his limbs are in relation to his body or make sure he doesn’t accidentally kick something, not notice and lose a couple of toes. This is not a problem for anyone else who’s possessing something, but Michael, as mentioned previously, has not that much remnant in him and this is one of the downsides.

I think kids throw rocks at his house and stuff. He’s sort of a local cryptid, and I’d throw rocks at Bigfoot if I got the chance, so it makes sense to me. He doesn’t really care that much, though, so it’s not a super common thing because it’s not very interesting for kids to throw rocks and not get a reaction.

Ennard

For the sake of clarity, I’ll just call Ennard with Baby, “Ennard” and without Baby will be, “Molten Freddy”

I’m a huge fan of Ennard but I have no freaking clue what their deal is. I don’t think that any of the sister location animatronics are properly possessed except for Baby (I don’t think there’s any more dead people other than the 11 or so we hear about) but I think that they have un poco remnant because William Afton was just fuckin around to see what happened. Funtime Freddy has the most remnant, which is why he sort of takes control after Baby leaves. But I actually think that their behavior is from a combination of their remnant from the five kids (which gets into weird horcrux soul splitting stuff don’t think too hard about it), their own not great programming, and some influence from Baby. I don’t think that each individual Funtime is possessed by a new kid, is what I’m getting at.

I think Baby left on her own. I don’t think she got kicked out, I think she just got sick of everyone and dipped. She probably wanted a cooler robot and some more independence or something. I don’t think Ennard would have kicked her out.

Molten Freddy doesn’t gaf about being seen, why would they? They get spotted all the time, but because they do mostly hang out in the sewers (it’s nice down there) it’s not like anyone really believes when they see them. Like that cannot have been a bunch of metal with eyes walking and talking I’m sure that’s just the wind and some trash. So nobody really buys into the idea that there’s anything down there. They’re also sort of a local cryptid, but they’re a much more varied one because nobody knows exactly what they saw.

Molten Freddy did kill a couple people, I think. Not always children, sometimes, but really it was just whatever. They didn’t even do anything after that (they don’t have the proper equipment to do the whole “wearing a guy” thing again) but it’s just their weird remnant and murder-code combo that just drives them to do this. They never kill anyone as Ennard bc Baby is mostly their leader while she’s there and Baby doesn’t have any motive to do that.

Molten Freddy isn’t really as conscious as you’d think. It’s hard to imagine a level of not-conscious because you will always be conscious and doing things or unconscious and not, but Molten Freddy is mostly code and a weird mix of pissed of remnant. It’s not really as thinking and feeling as the rest of the creatures, more just following basic instincts.

Slight diversion but Elizabeth does not feel bad, not even for even one second, about killing Michael. She fucking hates him for a variety of reasons, mostly stemming from him killing Evan and a little bit of William’s propaganda. Also she thinks he’s really stupid and gullible for falling into her trap (it was a clever trap, of course, but he didn’t have to keep coming down there) and sort of convinces herself that it’s his own fault. Basically, she has sort of a “Serves him right,” mindset about the whole thing.

Added on to that, Elizabeth doesn’t think he’s William because genuinely why would she? That’s clearly not William, and I think she’s smart enough to know that her plan would not work on William. She’d say, “I don’t recognize you,” and the plan would fail there because obviously she knows who that is. I’m getting to ramble-y I could make a whole post about their relationship so I’ll stop myself here.

Interaction

I think, during the events of Pizzeria Sim, Michael is more scared of Molten Freddy than of anyone else. For a variety of reasons, but a lot of it comes from how chaotic they seem to be, while every other creature is just one person (a person he knows, so there’s an extra bit of weird familiarity) but Molten Freddy is much more of a creature than anyone else.

Michael was sort of conscious while Ennard was wearing him. Not all the time, but enough where he sometimes knows what’s going on. The thing is, though, he can’t see anything that’s happening and can only really hear the metal clicking noises so it’s not like he has any idea what Ennard is actually doing, just can feel what his body is doing a little bit. I also feel like the bouts of consciousness get longer and frequent as time goes on because the very little remnant in his body sort of starts to assemble itself and try and do its thing. This is very unfortunate for him, but he’s not a real person so whomp whomp.

Ennard knows that Michael is sometimes awake, they can tell, but do not really care actually. Whatever, it’s not their problem. They can sort of tell what he’s thinking, or at least get the gist of it, but it’s horribly incoherent so it’s more annoying than anything else. The knowing what the other is thinking does not go both ways btw, Michael can’t do that.

Nobody except Baby really has any beef with Michael. Sure, they’re attacking him in Pizzeria Simulator, but that’s more their programming and instinct than anything personal. To them, he’s just a guy that they’re going to kill, which is what they’re meant to do, and Baby hates him for some reason, but whatever.

Another thing about Baby, it’s really awkward for Scrap Baby being with Molten Freddy in PS. Molten Freddy doesn’t care at all but Elizabeth feels like she’s just run into her ex from a bad breakup at the store and he’s trying to make small talk.

And finally, Henry is weirded out by all of this and has no clue what’s going on. He doesn’t know what the fuck Molten Freddy is or where it came from, he doesn’t know what happened to Michael, he doesn’t know why everyone seems to have a complex history with each other (Really, everything lines up except any sort of relation or history with the tangle of wires.) He doesn’t care, that’s Michael’s problem. Connection terminated, or whatever.

I’m done

Okay that’s it! Of course I’m going to think of a billion more once I publish this but I think I’ve taken long enough already! Hope this was enough, and don’t disagree with me at all or I’ll cry (/nsrs) Thanks so much for the ask! Have a magical day <3

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #michael afton #ennard fnaf #fnaf ennard #scooped michael afton #five nights at freddys #answered asks #elizabeth afton #I love making things up about these guys #thanks for the ask I love yapping

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cloud-flowers · 1 year ago

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How I Think You Could Possibly Beat OB! Malleus

Note: I am in the eng server in Twst and so far only part two has been released. I have seen some spoilers for the book before it was released in english, and few posts about battles. This is a theory and I'm so so sorry if someone has already done this.

Possible Battle Info:

In the first battle which we fight Malleus, his HP is 300,000. He also heals himself every turn, is immune to damage on even numbered turns, and does between around 5000-8000 damage each hit. His element is void.

This theory is on the assumption that for the final time we fight him, he IS actually beatable with the same stats excluding the healing every turn.

Also, I saw a post once where he does 30,000 damage on the second turn? Don't know if that was the final battle if it was released in the JP server.

Also, no idea which battle it was with Overblot Malleus, but someone got up to 10 and/or 15 turns with him.

Our (player) Cards:

You can get around 60,000+ HP depending on the cards you have. Fully maxed out cards and spell levels will get you between around 10,000-20,000 damage depending if the spell is weak damage or strong damage.

With duo magic, you can get up to 20,000-30,000 damage.

Possible Math Part: HP/ATK = Turns

300,000/30,000 = 10

300,000/20,000 = 15

300,000/15,000 = 20

Could be Conclusion:

You need a team with consistent buddies. Heartslabyul cards usually buddy with each other, so that's a good example of a team.

Event cards buddy with different people than the ones they buddy with in the dorm uniform. For example, Dorm Ace buddies with Deuce, but Suitor Suit Ace buddies with Riddle.

You can have cards that buddy with each other back to back, for example; Dorm Leona and Vil buddy with each other

Or cards that have different buddies, usually event cards, for example; Applepom Epel buddies with Idia, but Dorm Idia buddies with Ortho.

You also need to last probably longer than 10 turns, and have your team maxed out on levels and spells.

Uncapping should also help with the spell levels for HP and attack power.

I have no idea if this has a chance or this is unrelative and far out the window. Feel free to comment anything I missed or am wrong about

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #twst malleus #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #overblot #twst overblot #twst theory #twst analysis #twst disney #twst book 7 #book 7 twst

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emmetverse · 8 months ago

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Timelines are delicate things, aren't they? The smallest thing can cause immeasurable changes between worlds. The details of a plan, the location of a room... People call it the Butterfly Effect, I suppose.

There's a place people go when their worlds give up on them. When the universe doesn't want them anymore, when the timelines trickle out and die, but the people are just a little too stubborn to give up. It's not the best place, it's not the worst place. Whether or not it's better than death is up to you. The important part is that they're surviving.

And.. They have internet connection?

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All of them are called Emmet, of course, but that would get confusing quickly. Instead, they rely on nicknames:

◈ Em, what you would call the 'canon Emmet'. His universe has some differences from the original. Nothing that really changes anything.

✲ Spark, from a world where magic is very much real. His magic grew out of control and he ended up creating the void to contain himself. Not that he remembers it.

≜ Threes, or simply Three, a cyborg who lost a chunk of their body when the Kragle exploded. Sometimes it's a good thing when the plan doesn't work first time.

□ Buddy, a man who was stuck on the dust planet Undar for... Well, time doesn't matter anymore. He's the kind of guy who lives in the wall. Literally.

⊡ Rex, an immortal superhero. Or, well, he would be, if he'd gotten the opportunity to grow up. He's currently stuck in an adult body, though it should be fixable once they're out of here.

⩙ Nightshade, grumpyboy.

⨳ Cleric, the designated party healer from a Dungeons and Dragons campaign that was never finished. He's never had to quite think for himself before, quite literally.

⛯ Snowball, Spark's 'big brother' (Rex) and primary caretaker.

⑄ Chip, a sentient spaceship computer, now stuck in a small harddrive.

※ Void, both the place they're in and guard of it. It's overprotective and hates not being in control, but on the inside, it's really just a scared kid who wants to experience the outside world.

ᗢ Brick, a therapy cat, who's been forcibly adopted by Buddy. He loves hugs, headpats, and ear scratches. Sometimes he gets turned into a human, but don't worry about it.

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No NSFW, shippy, or suggestive anything

Rude asks are ok, but please be aware that they'll be rude back, and I might just end up ignoring you if it goes too far

Any of the characters are availble to answer asks! Some are more talkative than others, so if you want a specific character to answer something, please say so!

Canon, AU, OC, OOC, magic anon, and even other media asks are all welcome! Just don't break the story ^_^

My DMs are open

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A couple of extra bits that I want to specify

Buddy's tag isn't messed up! I chose the missing character symbol on purpose :)

The art in this blog is done in FireAlpaca, and the funky font used in these posts is Pagga from Ascii Art Archive

Everyone on this blog will lie, and cheat, and decieve you. Except for me. You can trust me.

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(Old Tags: Em, Buddy, Nightshade)

Art | Writing

Queue | Reblogs | Muse Prompts

In Character Answers | Semi-OOC Answers | Out Of Character Answers

Reference images

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Zone of Truth (Round 1) | Zone of Truth (Round 2)

Brick Becomes a Human

Spark McFreakin Dies

#the emmetverse #emmetverse au #the lego movie #the lego movie au #rp blog #lego movie rp #tlm #tlm rp blog #roleplay blog

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hestzhyen · 8 months ago

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Chapter 48 Speculation Posting

Hello, dear void, and welcome to The Hype Building Chapter.

So Chihiro and Hakuri are collecting all the bearers before returning to Kamunabi HQ- hope that doesn't get derailed (sorry). TRAIN FIGHT INCOMING THOUGH! YEAH!

I love train fights! Chihiro's facing off against a snazzy-looking Hishaku guy and it's gonna be epic. I hope we get the full treatment of starting inside, moving to the top, ducking under bridges, decoupling cars- the works. With the current pace, I think we'll get through it and arrive at Senkutusu Temple by the end of the next chapter. What will be waiting for the crew there...? It's the location that probably houses the girlish-looking Bearer, but who knows.

OK, OK, before I get pilloried for trying to guess the associations despite completely whiffing on where Uruha would be, I think I got it this time. Sushi Chef has got to be at the sushi restaurant. If he isn't I'll... I don't know, yeet my PC off the nearest bridge or something. So that leaves two locations: Senkutsu Temple and Kuentaisha Shrine. I think Eye Scars is at Kuentaisha Shrine mostly because the name contains the kanji 煙 (en), which is specifically for smoke, tobacco, haze, and ash; and both times we've seen him, he's been smoking. So with the other three locations accounted for, that would leave Girl Bearer for the next stop at Senkutsu Temple. That's my theory! It sucks! But I'm rolling with it anyway!

But before we get there, Chihiro's gotta deal with this prettyboy:

Why you got those dots under your eyes like Shiyumi, man? And why did the official TL mistranslate your name to "Hirohiko"?

And we even got this guys' name! (Wow, really spoiling us with the names lately, Hokazono-sensei.) Our villain this time is Hiruhiko (昼彦), meaning "noon boy" in a literal sense. 昼 (hiru) can be chosen to express the importance of being decisive and/or appreciating the joy of life. 彦 (hiko) is exclusively for male names and has multiple connotations- virtuosity, honor, respectability, being of good character... lmao. Wiping out Uruha's buddies and lugging their corpses for a few kilometers to bait him definitely fits the bill for that description, yup. This won't be the only fight between them- a named character is not going to go down in a single skirmish (probably). But hopefully Goldfish Batman can get a few good hits in for Bandana guy and the rest. Fuck 'im up, Chihiro.

"But wait, didn't the Anti-Kuregumo squad go down in one fight over thirty chapters ago?" you didn't ask. Why yes, they did. Isn't it strange that they break the rule of Hokazono-sensei not giving names to fodder and one-off characters?

Gone but perhaps not totally forgotten? Missing: Makoto Kasahara (big hand guy with the stripe over his nose- he was out scouting).

Out of all these guys, Kazane is the only one with a real shot of being relevant again since he's alive and in mostly one piece. But we got full names for every member of the squad despite being stuck using fan nick names for important characters like Ice Lady. What gives? Were they named just for the shock value upon death? Plausibly! But now that we have Ice Lady, Braid Bro, Sazasis, Bandana-kun and more, these guys stick out as an exception.

I think that maybe we could get into sorcery clans as the mysteries surrounding the Hishaku are revealed. Because if I'm right about them being a defeated faction, it would make sense for them to have ties to clans with special abilities and powers like the Sazanamis. Sorcery is inherited, after all, and the Sazanamis aren't the only ones who would build a clan around those powers if they were useful enough.

The Sazanami name was, at best, an indirect reference to the nature of Isou and their clan legacy. I will not be putting much stock into the clan names and how they tie into members' abilities- my Japanese isn't good enough for that, and I don't have access to the raws to confirm what kanji were used for ability names anyway. But I think there are enough physical similarities between one set of characters in particular that illustrate what I mean about clans being tied to or split between sides.

Behold my awful MS Paint skills:

Common traits: extremely short, stocky men with masks over their face (mouth in particular). We've seen Kiyohiko as a member of the task force, an unnamed Kamunabi higher-up that watched Chihiro's interrogation, and one of Uruha's guards at the hotsprings. The repeated mask and stature combination seems like a deliberate design choice at least.

And then there's this shot of the datenseki-empowered onsen invaders:

The guy with the long braid in the middle looks an awful lot like Ikuto, doesn't he? A smidge suspicious in a series that goes out of it's way to kill off uniquely designed characters without any fanfare.

There's also some of the datenseki aura wisps looking like Kuregumo's dragon smoke effect...

Rest in piss, Sojo.

The last time we saw datenseki in use, Tenri's spirit energy manifested as a jellyfish (ch. 33). Why is it indistinct smoke for these guys- is it because they probably aren't elite sorcerers? Are the datenseki provided by Sojo different than the one Tenri used somehow? Also, there's a limited number of these datenseki according to Chihiro... but we can presume that more can and will be made... Sojo is still gonna haunt the narrative though his deadly space rocks, I guess. I'm fine with this if it means he's never resurrected.

I think the designs for the characters and the smoke effects are artistic limitations first and foremost, but I can't completely let go of the "what if" nagging in the back of my head. It's too early in the series to see if this is subtle foreshadowing or just grasping at straws, so I won't hold on tight to this pet theory like I am with the Hishaku one. The only other scenario that's come close is the hinting about Hakuri's real talents (praying mantis imagery, first Isou misfire with his eye still becoming distorted, surviving the Enkotsu hit point-blank, the silhouette of the first patriarch sporting a mirrored version of Hakuri's hair style, Soya's tools disappearing, maybe his name if you read into that kind of stuff).

Oh yeah. We got another name this chapter: Yura (幽). 幽 means (to) seclude, subtle, confinement, tranquil, and/or dark. Spoopy. The connotations as a name are what one one would expect: profundity, having a mysterious presence, subtlety, so on and so forth. 幽 is usually read as yuu (the other reading is kasu), so if it turns out to be a code name of some kind, I wouldn't be surprised. For now, whether or not Yura is actually the Hishaku leader is unclear. It's too late for Hokazono-sensei to give us his name though- the Western fanbase has already dubbed him "John", which shall be his name forevermore.

Other than that, lots of Uruha hooray! He is a perfect blend of ridiculous and badass (sensing a trend with friendly characters that meet Chihiro, hmm...).

His conversation with Chihiro was so bittersweet...

He really, truly cared about Kunishige the man instead of Kunishige the war hero. And Chihiro's expression... oh, my heart. I really appreciate these little reminders that Chihiro's still struggling with grief on top of his father's burdensome legacy. To be told he's the spitting image of his beloved dad after so many people doubted him clearly meant a great deal.

Uruha's raised a flag for teaching Hakuri how to value his own life too, just like I was hoping:

Boy who has trouble valuing himself notices someone correctly assessing their own worth by refusing to take the bait that he would have fallen for. Hm.

I cut out the speculative yapfest because honestly, it's just one potential thread out of many. It might not even go anywhere at all. But if I want to indulge myself, I guess I can put it like this: Uruha is a very strong Hakuri parallel in both demeanor and situation. If it was just the first one, I wouldn't be investing in Hakuri character development stocks this arc. But now I will do so cautiously- and hope Uruha doesn't get buried under a mountain of death flags.

For now, we wait to see how Chihiro's second fight against a Hishaku member goes. Thank you, dear void, for letting me ramble once more.

#kagurabachi #Definitely didn't keep writing Hiruhiko as HakuHiro #Manifesting Hiyuki showing up and interrupting/ending the fight next chapter because that would be awesome #Hakuri's complete lack of self-awareness while sassing Uruha's behavior will never get old

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dual-cetacean · 9 months ago

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Choas Energie vs Prism Energy.

Heyo! I've been in a funk for some time and feeling stilted. So why not do something different and just air out some ideas and thoughts I have about Sonic Prime? I've always wanted to do a deep dive or write some fun headcanons but never found the courage to do it. After agonising about it for some time, I realised that this is Tumbr, and I have nothing to lose by posting my thoughts here.

One, I fucking love the idea of Choas Energy being the reason why Shadow cannot enter the gates except for Ghost Hill. Ghost Hill still has traces of Sonic and Shadow's old world, a graveyard with roaming phantoms spouting the same rhetoric over and over again. With nowhere to escape the grey haze, it is not surprising Shadow preferred the Void over the hollow husk of Green Hill. (And well, to make sure he was able to catch Sonic and drag him down from his adventure to face the music of his actions)

Throughout the series Choas has been something revered, ancient and mysterious. The mugful of the Sonic Universe gathers the seven mystical elements and defeats the bad guy of the game kind of shenanigans. The very idea that it works against one of the most powerful wielders of said energy is pure irony. Especially since the one who goes Super is allowed to go through these worlds.

Beyond this point, there will be spoilers for the last season of the show; please do not continue if you still have to finish it.

Sonic was the last part of Paradox Prism; of course, as long as he ran fast enough, he could break the boundaries of the world. The Prism energy negated the Choas Energy. But not without a price. Without Nine's tech, Sonic was unstable (Sonic's subtle need for Tails shines through, which is only natural as that is his little buddy! I am so glad the series emphasised Sonic's unwavering trust in Tails, which transfers to Nine. Like his best friend becoming his worst enemy is such good grub. I was fed by the tail end of the series. Pun intended)

One contender is that because of the nature of the incident, Sonic cannot control his running. It is as if he is in a constant state of stop, go, stop, go because the energy inside him keeps reliving the same action over and over again—a loop, if you will.

Or, and this is more fantasy than fact, the Prism and Phaos energy inside of Sonic were clashing with each other and making it impossible to get anywhere without zipping all over the place. Perhaps if it had gone on for too long, Sonic's body would have taken a toll from the constant stress his body is in. I mean, we did not see Sonic eat or sleep in the show (which I suppose makes sense as the show barely had time to focus on such mundane things. Nine drank a juice box, though, which good for them), so I am only guessing that Nine's invention and his determination is what kept him upright. That and time distortion, which is canon! But a detail that is easily forgotten among the more exciting things.

But more about that later, finishing my thought about Choas Energy. the last bits of Choas left are Sonic, Shadow, and the Choas Emerald Shadow accidentally dropped in the Void (it appeared back in Shadow's hand in the final after Green Hill was restored, but I wonder what that means for the Shatterverse if everything has been set back to its 'original state'). It is only natural since the Paradox Prism used Mobuis as its template to create the other worlds (and so also Sonic's pals and Doctor Eggman, Big was also splintered, so that means close proximity to the Prism was not needed to become split. What a shame we did not see any other characters from the cast Cream and Cheese or the Choatix). It would use its own energy to replace the missing Choas Energy.

After all, the shards act like emeralds in the sense that they supply endless power. However, their capabilities lay in manipulating their surroundings rather than Choas, which amplifies the power inherent to the user. (Only the Choas Council used their shard like a battery, which is unsurprisingly uncreative of them) I am not a Sonic veteran, and I am probably wrong about this, but the Choas Emeralds do not seem to react to just about anyone. Maybe it is because we only saw it interact with the important characters of the show rather than the background characters, but Prism Energy seems to be more responsive than Choas. Maybe because the changes were made so recently? Or is it in the Prism's nature to be so easily manipulated? Neither do the shards of the crystal have a master emerald to soothe them or act like an anchor. It is all quite interesting. There are so many holes in the Shatterverse. Without Sonic interfering, I am sure the whole Shattverse would have collapsed in on itself, as its nature is to be unstable. None of the characters are balanced because they are born from splinters. They become their own people eventually, but it is in their nature to be unsatisfied and seek what makes them whole.

The last fun headcanon I have is that Choas is corrosive to the worlds the Prism created. For example, when Shadow performs a chaos blast, it is a big explosion because that is the nature of a blast. What if, if he were to use it, the explosion is intensified and corodoes everything it touches? I am uncertain in which canon Shadow uses chaos abilities without the emerald (or maybe that is something Fanon came up with. ), but it could be a reason why Shadow did not use Choas Blast or Spear during the events of the show. Besides, well, there had to be an even playfield to make the story engaging. So, Shattverse gates repel Shadow because he is a walking toxic vile. With only one leak, his life force can eat up the fabric from which the worlds are created. It certainly is a fun idea to write with.

Kinda makes me wonder what would have happened if Shadow brought the Choas Emerald inside one of the worlds or Choas Controlled within its bounds. Hmm, that is a delicious idea to write for.

As for time, I have not exactly calculated how much time Sonic actually spent in the show trying to restore his world. I can't even remember if he was ever knocked unconscious, which could distort his sense of time further. But in Season One, when Sonic meets back up with them, Nine mentions that he's been gone for a while. For what was at most an hour or four for Sonic could have been days or even weeks for Nine and the rest of New Yoke. I seriously need to rewatch the show for the details, but time distortion is a big thing I've been playing with in my writing. The idea of time flowing differently in every world is fascinating to explore. And *rubbing hands together* good angst fuel.

Anywho, I`m glad I got that off my chest. Please tell me if you want to hear more of my ramblings or ideas! That's how I know people want to see more of it. Bye! ヾ(*^▽^*)

#sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic prime #rambles #some fun ideas and inquires I thought of over the year #might remember more later

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cozyrecords · 2 years ago

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Volleying Love

Here's another post for one of my favourite characters, Kuroo Tetsurou <3

I hope you guys enjoy reading this and any suggestions are welcome!

Kuroo is an all-time famous volleyball player and there is no denying that but so is the fact that he has been your best friend ever since you moved to Nekoma. You guys have seen each other's most vulnerable sides to the most embarrassing moments. Not to mention also the times when you guys have been in a really heated argument once but thankfully made up just in time.

Of course, you guys were nothing more than just best buddies, right? Or so you thought...

"Y/N, my beloved...I have missed you a ton!" Kuroo dramatically clutches his heart, entering the class.

"I think you guys met yesterday?" Lev questions, showing the recent post on Kuroo's social media where he took your picture while playing claw machine at an amusement park.

You rolled your eyes, shook your head, and released an annoyed sigh. "I miSSeD yoU ToO."

"Anyways, you know the drill, right? Match at 6 pm today." Kuroo winks at you and puckers his lower lip when he sees you gagging at his gesture.

"Kuroo, I will f*cking bury you alive if you do that again." You slightly smack his arm.

Kenma snickers without diverting his attention away from the game. Meanwhile, Lev and Kenma go to their classes and your homeroom teacher enters the class and asks you guys to open the textbooks.

"Heyy..psst!"

You feel your chair being kicked by someone and turn sideways to come face-to-face with Kuroo.

"What do you want, idiot?"

"You." He smirks.

Your eyes widen and your body goes into a defensive mode but even before you realize what's happening, you feel your hair being ruffled by him.

"Looks like someone fell for that." He cackles and it immediately makes your eyes all watery so you blink rapidly and turn around to get a pencil.

"F*ck off, Kuroo. I- I almost threw up at your words." You slightly quivered, throwing the pencil at him.

"Oww, what did I even do?" He whisper-shouted at you.

Kuroo felt a paper ball hit his shoulder and he looked back to Yaku who signed to that paper ball to be opened.

'You are dumb as fuck'

"Yaku-san! Come on..not you too?"

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After classes, you go to the canteen to buy snacks for the game. You contemplated whether to buy Kuroo's favourite drink because he will be getting tons from his fans.

"OMGG! I CAN'T WAIT TO GIVE THIS TO KUROO."

"NOO...I WILL BE THE ONE TO GIVE HIM BEFORE THE MATCH."

You sighed in annoyance after hearing a few girls from your school competing about who would hand him the drinks first.

"Getting jealous much, are we?"

You whip your head towards the owner of the voice to see Lev standing behind you. He cackles as he takes a glance at your serious face.

"Hahaha...why would I be jealous? And that too because of those girls??? Over Kuroo???? Please." You said averting your eyes away from his.

"Y/N, who are you even kidding? Don't you think its time you tell him about how you feel?"

"Lev, I think you misunderstood the whole dynamic we both have. He is just my best friend and nothing much. Stop having these unrealistic ideas." You were calming yourself from becoming agitated.

"Are you telling that to me or to comfort yourself? Y/N, you don't have to be honest with me but be honest with yourself at least." You noticed his face being stoic, void of any hint of playfulness.

"Let's go. I think you are getting late too." You tried breaking the conversation.

Lev gasped looking at the time on his phone and stormed to the gym before yelling a 'see you after the match.'

--------------------------------------------------

You arrive at the volleyball court to get a spot on the bleachers and just to your liking, you get to have a good view from there. Letting your eyes wander all over the room, they take a pause at your best friend, who is engaged in a serious conversation with the coach along with other members.

Taking a glance at his body, you pay attention to his strong physique consisting of his sharp jawline, strong biceps, and relaxed yet fit posture. Has he always been this manly? Or am I just going crazy?

All of a sudden your thoughts were interrupted by the whistle indicating that the match started and you scrunched your face in disgust for even thinking about Kuroo in this way.

Everyone started screaming as the members jogged up to the middle of the court to greet the other team. You noticed Kuroo spotting you in the crowd and smiled in acknowledgement, waving his hand slightly at you. The most unexpected thing happens as you shoot a tight-lipped smile in response, your heart races slightly at this interaction.

The match started and as usual, you saw the other team get beaten into a pulp by the ruthless Nekoma and more so

"We see our reliable middle blockers block the ball with ease and have it tossed with an unimaginable speed to the other side...aandd one point to Nekoma!" The commentator excitedly screams as Nekoma scores a point.

As the match goes on, you become engrossed in the game as usual but you start noticing something. This match was filled with energy, determination and the zeal to play more and win however you also observe a change in Kuroo. He seems bold and draws more attention than usual which captivates you even more. His spikes and blocks are intense, and he is leading the team with unparalleled intensity.

That is when it clicks so you realize that it is not just his playing but also his attitude and the way he looks at you amidst the crowd. His gaze keeps finding you, and every time he scores or gives an incredible block, he flashes a smile filled with fondness which you have only seen once or twice. It's as if every point he scores is a message meant for you. Having said that, he is revealing a side of himself that you have never seen before. Am I being delusional? Why would he do that? You think to yourself.

As the match reaches its final state, you are torn between admiring Kuroo's exceptional performance and the confusion regarding his behaviour. Nonetheless, you shake your head to remove any other thoughts just to focus on the game.

The crowd finally breaks into cheers as Kuroo and Kenma team up for the last point to make a spectacular play, attaining the victory. Your eyes moistened as you smiled and made tiny jumps in excitement. Similarly, Kuroo was being thrown in the air and caught by his teammates in joy but all he cared was about you.

You watched as Kuroo squeezed himself in between the ecstatic crowd and made his way towards you, his face glistening under the bright lights and a smile that reached his eyes. And that is when the realization hits you like a ton of bricks and you are left in shock. Kuroo is in love with you as much as you are in love with him.

But even before you can move, your peripheral vision registers a frenzied fan making her way towards Kuroo, who seems to be oblivious to the surroundings, keeping his focus solely on you. In an attempt to prevent her from running towards him, you blocked the way but what happened next made the gym fall into a horrified silence.

The scene unfolds to the fan slapping you hard enough to be shoved to the ground as you try to protect your best friend. Cheers have been ceased and the atmosphere shifts from celebration to disbelief.

Your cheek aches with a stinging sensation, gradually swelling and the force of your head hitting the ground makes you slightly dizzy. His face fades as your vision becomes blurry both from the tears and dizziness, so you try your best to not fall unconscious.

Kuroo's movements slow down but his pace increases as his jaws set in a tight line, fists clenched and his face reddens with wrath clouding his eyes. It was obviously unacceptable and his hiking frustration was just as threatening as him.

However, as soon as he looks at you, trying to withhold the pain, he rushes towards you without any care for his anger. He takes a deep breath not wasting another moment, and picks you up in an instant carrying you to the infirmary. You could only listen to a few of the team members asking Kuroo to take care of you while they deal with that fan.

--------------------------------------------------

"Hey, hey...Look at me. Don't worry, I am here, here with you. I've got you so you're going to be okay." His voice was laced with concern along with a subtle tremble in his voice due to the exhaustion.

"Kuroo...I am- I am alright..." You wince lightly trying to stay awake.

"Let's talk later okay? We need to get you a first aid."

He took a turn to the medical room and the doctor quickly takes you to the room. She asks him to stay out for a while and you could make out his reluctance, so you smiled fondly at him. You nodded a bit, raising your thumbs to subtly indicate that you will be alright.

"Thankfully you didn't have any concussion but I would still advise you to get a checkup done at the main hospital." The doctor smiled at you, giving you an ice pack for your cheek.

"Thanks, doc." You peeped through the door, looking at Kuroo who is fidgeting his legs and hands, taking ragged breaths.

"I will let your friend come in so you keep the ice pack for now."

He got up from his seat and dashed through the door. His eyes softened at the sight of you and you signaled him to sit on the chair by the bed.

"Hey, precious...how are you feeling right now?" His gentle touch on your hair made you almost cry because this soft side of him is genuinely making you feel emotional.

"My cheek stings justttt a bit." You snickered to ignore another nickname he used, stressing on 'just' in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

His hand slowly dropped to the swollen cheek, grazing it so delicately as if it's made up of glass. But his face was painted with a stoic expression. "I am gonna make sure she is suspended from all our games."

You couldn't help but be moved by Kuroo's protectiveness, though you might have been grateful if it was anyone else instead of Kuroo but it's just different. After being friends for so long, your newfound feelings towards him made your chest tighten in fear. What if you were wrong about Kuroo? What if he just put an extra amount of dedication to the game and did not convey something to you- but you felt a rush of emotions as a consequence of his undeniable tenderness in his actions.

The words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

"Tetsu, there is something I need to tell you," you began, ignoring the mini shock you got from using his first name. He turned to you, in an instant as it was rare of you to use his first name unless you have a favour to ask him or when you mess up things. His eyes showed you the assurance you needed. So you took a deep breath and uttered the words which have been tugging your heart ever since.

"I...I like you. And not as a friend."

Pretending to not observe how his eyes bulged out and jaw wide open in astonishment, you continued. "Seeing you play and the way you looked at me today, it...it gave me the benefit of the doubt that you might be having a tiny....really a tiny bit of feelings towards me. I love you, Tetsu. 'Like' is just a small word in comparison to the amount of love I have towards you."

You mentally prepared yourself to be laughed at but had a small hope of being on the side where your love is reciprocated. But what is giving you a hard time is that the room fell into a brief silence making you anxious, so you look at Kuroo for an answer.

His face had long been void of the surprised expression and all you could see was his warm and genuine smile before he screamed in excitement. "OH...my god, Y/N! I have been waiting for you to say that! I was- I was gonna say that after the game because you took a long time to respond to my hints."

"I love you too, Y/N." He cupped your uninjured cheek and the moment felt like a dream, the pain in your cheek long forgotten as Kuroo leaned in, his lips softly meeting yours in a gentle, sweet kiss. Your arms made their way, one to his neck while the other to his hair, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss, and he didn't waste any further and tugged at your lips.

You both pulled away from each other, faces flushed at the mini-makeout session, giggling a bit.

"Your bed-hair just got worse." You grinned, smoothening out his spikes while Kuroo just sat like an obedient love-sick puppy with his body all relaxed at the familiar feeling of you.

#kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x y/n #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro oneshot #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #hq kuroo #haikyu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #friends to lovers #hq fanfic

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