#and I’m telling you HOW and WHY and WHO hurt me

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 22: June 2024 - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

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

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

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

Warnings and Notes: 

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

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

Text Messages: Gianpiero Lambiase & Max Verstappen

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

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

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

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

GP: That’s the cruel part. Hope.

Max: Yeah.

GP: Is she at home? You with her?

Max: I am. 

Max: Doesn’t feel like enough.

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

Max: She deserves better than this.

GP: She’s got it now. She’s got you.

GP: (and the cats.)

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

GP: Smart cat.

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

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

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

***

The breakfast table was too quiet.

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

Isabelle had quit her job.

 Months ago.

 Without telling a single one of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No one bothered to notice,” Charles muttered.

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

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

That got everyone’s attention.

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

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

A collective breath was held—and slowly released.

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

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

Charles swallowed hard.

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

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

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

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

A beat of stunned silence.

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

Charlotte choked on her orange juice.

Pascale actually dropped her spoon.

“Arthur!” Alexandra hissed, scandalized.

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

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

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

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

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

A beat of stunned silence.

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

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

Pascale blinked, stunned. “Since when?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charlotte looked up, startled. “What?”

“You said that like you know something.”

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

“Charlotte,” Lorenzo warned.

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

Silence.

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

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

“I’M ALREADY SPIRALING,” Charles announced.

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

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

Pascale clapped her hands together. “Enough.”

But Charles barely heard her.

Because if Belle was dating someone from the paddock…

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

And not one of them had said a word.

***

Group Chat: GRID 2024 

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

Charles: SOMEONE TELL ME

 Who is dating my sister??

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

Fernando: Pardon?

Lewis: Oh we’re doing this.

George: Charles, breathe.

Oscar: You’re spiraling. Please stop.

Pierre: Wait WHAT??

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

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

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

Logan: …bro

George: I need to leave this chat forever

Lando: oh my god

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

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

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

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

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

George: Whoa.

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

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

Oscar: He’s right. That was low, man.

Lando: Way out of line.

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

Carlos: He’s right.

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

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

Alex: Oof.

Oscar: He’s not wrong.

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

Daniel: That was… surgical.

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

Charles: Max…

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

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

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

Alex: Respectfully, that needed to be said.

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

Charles: … I’m sorry.

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

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

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

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

Oscar:  No, we witnessed Max finally snap.

Carlos: Honestly? Fair.

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

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

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

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

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

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

Daniel: Surgical strike. Zero survivors.

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

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

Lewis: Subtle as a sledgehammer. Iconic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Esteban: No crumbs left. Truly an artist.

Lewis: I hope Belle gives Max a damn medal.

Carlos: It’s what he deserves.

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

Nico H.: Only if Belle asks nicely though.

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

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

David: Winner gets emotional literacy and a free hug.

Lando: Charles gets last place. Obv.

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

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

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

Sebastian: I hate you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fernando: I was genuinely weighing my options.

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

Carlos: He pulled out a mental calculator before answering.

Alex: Plot twist: he was flattered.

Fernando: I am flattered.

Logan: ARE YOU NOT TOO OLD FOR THIS SIR

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

David: Shut up you're scaring the children

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

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

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

Sebastian: Don’t manifest that energy.

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

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

Carlos: He should be banned from texting before noon.

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

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

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

David: You’re a better man than I am.

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

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

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

Lando: Same. Sugar Daddy Alonso 2024 Never Forget.

Kimi: I don’t care.

Fernando: Good. One sane man among us.

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

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

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

Lewis: Count me in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

This, Max thought, is who she really is.

Not the invisible sister standing silently in the Ferrari garage.

 Not the afterthought.

 Not the forgotten one.

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

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

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

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

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

Max felt something hot coil under his ribs.

Not anger. Not yet.

Something heavier.

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

How did you miss this?

 How did you miss her?

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

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

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

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

 And maybe they didn’t deserve to.

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

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

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

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

He didn’t move.

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

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

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

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

Not here. Not with him.

Never.

***

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

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

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

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

Belle looked down at her hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belle blinked hard.

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

Simone nodded. “Both can be true.”

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

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

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

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

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

Belle swallowed hard, something inside her cracking open.

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

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

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

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

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

She just smiled, slow and warm.

"Congratulations," Simone said.

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

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

She broke off, chest tight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Simone leaned in just a little, voice steady.

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

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

Not alone anymore.

Not invisible.

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

She exhaled shakily.

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

Simone smiled. "Exactly."

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

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

It felt like freedom.

***

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

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

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

But now… Now she read them.

One by one.

Apologies. Explanations. Pleading.

Arthur. Lorenzo. Charles.

And Maman. Always Maman.

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

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

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

He would have remembered.

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

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

There would have been a smile.

 A hug.

 A word.

Anything.

But there hadn’t been.

Because her mother hadn’t texted.

Not her.

And not Charles.

She hadn’t thought about her at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max didn’t say anything.

 Not yet.

He just waited.

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

Max’s jaw tightened against her forehead.

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

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

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

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

There was a long, vibrating pause.

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

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

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

Belle didn’t trust herself to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

But she was tired. 

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

She was tired of being invisible.

 Of hiding her joy like it was a crime.

She tapped into her camera roll.

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

It wasn’t a professional shot.

 It wasn’t curated.

 It was real.

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

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

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

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

Not everyone would understand.

Most wouldn’t even know what it meant.

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

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

Belle smiled softly to herself.

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

No more hiding.

No more shrinking.

Her life was hers now.

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

***

Instagram Post: @/isabelleleclerc

Comments:

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

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

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

@/charles_leclerc: Isabelle. Please answer your phone.

@/arthur_leclerc: PLEASE RESPOND.

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

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

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

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

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

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

↪ @/isabelleleclerc: Like Mother, like Daughter ❤️

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

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

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

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

@/f1updates: WAIT WAIT WAIT.

@/f1theories: GIFT?? FROM WHO??

***

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

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

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

It wasn’t chaos. It wasn’t panic.

It was Belle.

Her name. Her Instagram. A new post.

Max opened it instantly, barely breathing.

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

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

It was the caption.

some things are always meant to come back to you.

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

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

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

And she hadn’t asked permission.

She hadn't needed anyone’s blessing.

She had simply... posted it.

Without apology.

 Without explanation.

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

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

Max didn’t say a word.

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

No words. Just this.

Just I'm proud of you.

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

“You saw it?” she whispered.

Max smiled against her skin.

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

Belle’s breath hitched.

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

She wasn’t invisible here.

She was home.

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

Right here. Always. With her.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

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

Arthur: Shared Isabelle’s Instagram post

Arthur: …So. Uh.

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

Charles: SHE HAS A WHAT.

Lorenzo: Excuse me??

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

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

Arthur: Look at the photo. LOOK AT IT.

Charles: It looks exactly like Blanche.

Lorenzo: That’s not possible.

Arthur: AND YET.

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

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

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

Charles: Who gave her a horse?

Arthur: WHO KNEW SHE STILL WANTED ONE???

Lorenzo: …Clearly, not us.

Pascale: …We should have known.

Arthur: …Maman?

Pascale: We took away something she loved.

Pascale: And then we never gave it back.

Charles: We didn’t have the money.

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

Arthur: …

Charles: …

Lorenzo: Merde.

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

Pascale: Not once.

Arthur: I—Maman, I didn’t even think—

Pascale: No. None of us did.

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

Pascale: I thought she had let it go.

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

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

Lorenzo: We all did.

Arthur: We failed her.

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

Pascale: Even when we didn’t see her.

Charles: We need to fix this.

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

Pascale: Step one: apologize.

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

Lorenzo: When would she have had the time?

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

Pascale: Do you know what hurts the most?

Charles: What?

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

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

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

Arthur: …How do we fix this?

Pascale: I don’t know if we can. ****

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

↳ @/FerrariPain42: Soooo… secret boyfriend? 👀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@/TifosiMess: So let me get this straight:

Isabelle’s family forgot her birthday.

She disappeared for two weeks.

Charles finally remembers that he has a sister. 

Isabelle comes back with a horse.

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

Her brothers have no idea where it came from.

I am obsessed with this timeline.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arthur: And you never did.

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

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

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

Arthur: Or if you were even okay.

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

Arthur: But you never did, did you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arthur: And none of us even knew.

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

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

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

Arthur: Tell me how. And I’ll do it.

Arthur: No hesitation. No questions asked.

Arthur: Je suis désolé, petite sœur.

Arthur: And I miss you.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

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

Lando: (sends screenshots) Belle is choosing violence. 

Carlos: She posted Fleur 😭

Alex: Softest betrayal ever. I’m crying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan: WHO GAVE HER THE HORSE THOUGH

George: who do you THINK

Nico Hülkenberg: lol max the softest secret husband in existence

Daniel: max is so whipped it's beautiful

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

Kimi: Good. Someone should love her properly.

Lando: the LECLERC BROTHERS are LOSING IT

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

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

Valtteri: horse girl revenge >>> everything

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

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

Carlos: absolutely not.

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

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

Lando: oh my god he still doesn't know

Lewis: beautiful chaos.

Alex: 10/10 no notes

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

Daniel: She dropped a horse and bounced. ICON.

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

Carlos: good. he deserves to sit with this.

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

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Lorenzo Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Lorenzo: Isabelle.

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

Lorenzo: But I need to say this.

Lorenzo: I’m sorry.

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

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

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

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

Lorenzo: But I didn’t.

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

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

Lorenzo: I don’t expect you to answer.

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

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

Lorenzo: I love you, Isabelle.

Lorenzo: Whenever you’re ready.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

↳@/tifosiprincess: Yes. Yes, you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@/F1TeaSpiller: 

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Pascale Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Pascale: Ma chérie, please talk to me.

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

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

Pascale: I should have known.

Pascale: I should have asked.

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

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

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

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

Pascale: Isabelle, please. Say something.

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

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

Text Messages: Sebastian Vettel & Charles Leclerc

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

Charles: I’m fine.

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

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

Sebastian: Maybe you weren’t listening.

Charles: I WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED A HORSE.

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

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

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

Charles: It feels like she lied to us.

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

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

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

Charles: I just— I thought she was okay.

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

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

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

Charles: IT’S A LITTLE ABOUT THE HORSE.

Sebastian: Focus.

Charles: I’m trying.

Sebastian: Try harder. She deserves better.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They never asked about her interests.

They had no clue she had started riding again.

They didn’t even know where she was living.

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

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

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

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

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

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

↳@/F1TeaSpiller: And I have questions.

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

***

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

It wasn’t working.

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

A horse. A goddamn horse.

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

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

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

He stabbed his fork into his salad with unnecessary violence.

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

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

He straightened immediately.

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

Emilie Abadie. And Lando Norris?!

Together. Laughing.

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

It didn’t look like a casual meeting.

It looked like a date.

Charles’s blood pressure spiked instantly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emilie set her wineglass down with infuriating calm.

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

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

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

For a second, Emilie just stared at him.

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

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

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

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

“Emilie—”

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

Charles flinched like she’d slapped him.

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

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

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

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

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

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

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

“I just want to make it right—”

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

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t even a footnote.

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

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Charles Leclerc & Belle Verstappen

Charles: Isabelle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles: It didn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles: But I want to try. If you’ll let me.

Charles: If you need space, I’ll give you space. If you need time, I’ll wait. If you never want to speak to me again, I’ll understand.

Charles: But if there’s any chance at all—any way to rebuild even a fraction of what we broke— I’ll do whatever it takes.

Charles: No excuses. No conditions. No timeline.

Charles: I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ll listen as long as it takes.

Charles: You mattered then. You matter now. You always have. Even when we were too blind to see it.

Charles: I love you. I’m so sorry I ever made you doubt that.

[spurbleu]

john price and his divorced vibes ring true in my heart and notes app once again. cw. slight suicide ideation.

“it’s me or there.”

that’s when it ended. four words, four years, give or take. snuffed out in the aftermath of a hospital visit that wouldn’t have been concerning if john were younger. if he didn’t have you.

he’s seen the cyst of it. the bloated, inflamed beginnings of a divide. the graves that anxiety digs under your eyes. the tears when he returns home- not from joy but from relief.

(maybe that’s always what it’s been- just assumed they were the same. it took looking at your signature on separation papers to make him realize just how wrong he was).

but tonight, you aren’t crying. not now- not in front of him. he can tell you practiced, by the ridged way you sit under the lamplight he had helped you fix last month, hands crossed over the dining room table (oak from the backyard). eyes that build a wall between your body and the woman he married.

“don’t make me choose.” is what he said, which didn’t sound like a real answer to him.

but there was only one reply that would’ve made you stay.

so he survives like he always has. still takes his coffee black, although has to relearn how to use the machine without your help. wakes up at five to a colder bed. still gets deployed for missions, where he doesn’t talk about it.

(still wears the ring, though.)

and without him really knowing it, years go by. he gets shot again, and this time he isn’t just lucky he’s alive, he’s surprised.

(angry, too. hoped that stupid, bullish operative would’ve made the fuckin shot. gave him an honorable death. born from steel so he might as well die by it. maybe it would have made you understand. maybe you would have spoken at his funeral.)

kate makes him take the office job he hid from you. hates it, but eventually the body aches subside and so does the resentment.

it’s early, when he catches sight of you in a café. can’t help himself, and suddenly he’s ordering his coffee with a little bit of cream, and finding your table.

you’re still wearing a ring, but it isn’t his. the subtle roundness of your stomach isn’t, either. that burns more than the cigars he quit last week.

you ask him how he’s been. he says fine. when he asks you the same, you mimic his response- although you’re telling the truth.

“still working?”

he forces a laugh. it comes out pained. “at a desk, now.”

you nod like you saw this coming. “how’s that?”

he tells you about the long days. the creaky chair that leaves faux leather pieces stamped to his trousers. about the annoying, young coworkers. about the window that overlooks a city he didn’t think could be beautiful- but when the sun hits it right he’s proved wrong.

once he meets your eyes, they’re glossy. a teary shine that shocks him until he’s forced to remember the way you looked at the alter. the flush of your cheeks. the curve of your smile, which is practically the same now as it was then, if not a little sadder.

because it hurts. hurts that he is only now accepting peace. that if he hadn’t idled, he could’ve had the very rare opportunity to keep. his promises, his good ending, his wife.

but he didn’t. and now the both of you have to look “could’ve been” in the face. a face that you had loved. a face that john, despite his best efforts, still does.

you wipe your tears and apologize. say the pregnancy is making you weepy. that you’re just so happy he’s doing well. that he’s safe. alive.

he nods. he understands. he lets you lie. because he knows, that as he stands, you want to ask him why. why it took him so long. why he couldn’t quit it for you, when he was always going to end up doing so anyway.

he leaves you without an answer for a second time, but this time it’s because he truly doesn’t have one.

but he doesn’t leave without saying, “I’m sorry.”

and maybe that’s enough.

you will never see him again. he will see you, once. at a playground, with a stroller, and a man who looks like he’s good to you.

he will walk to the pawn shop across the street and sell his wedding ring. the number they give him is far below what it’s worth, but he doesn’t correct them.

because what would he know.

[arixella]

Overprotective Captain

╰┈➤ pairing: Luffy x reader

a/n: guyyysss I have been cooking up so many stories get readddyy!!

summary: Luffy’s unusual protectiveness before reaching a mysterious island reveals just how deeply he cares for you, showing a rare vulnerable side of him.

wc: 920

contains: fluff, secret feelings, overprotective captain, unspoken confessions, and lingering touches.

The warm sea breeze brushed through your hair as the Thousand Sunny glided smoothly toward a new island. The air was filled with excitement, as everyone could feel the thrill of a new adventure ahead of them. You leaned on the railings, staring out at the horizon, excitement bubbling inside you. The island that loomed ahead was unlike any they had visited before—lush, mysterious, and surrounded by a dense mist that made it look like something out of a legend.

It was everything you loved about being on the crew: the unknown, the excitement, and the possibility of discovery. You turned around to face the rest of the crew, your eyes searching for Luffy, who had been acting oddly since you all set sail for the island. Normally, he was the first one to jump at a new adventure, but today, something was off.

Luffy had been unusually quiet, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with a level of tension you rarely saw from him. His eyes would linger on you longer than usual, and whenever you went anywhere near the edge of the ship, he would quickly appear beside you. At first, you thought it was just a phase, something to do with the storm they had sailed through earlier. But as the days passed, it became more apparent: your usually carefree, reckless captain was suddenly acting… overprotective.

You spotted him now, standing at the edge of the ship with his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed as he stared ahead at the island. You made your way toward him, noticing how his posture stiffened when you got closer.

“Hey, Luffy,” you said, leaning against the railing next to him. “Excited for a new island?”

Luffy didn’t immediately respond. He only glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before turning his gaze back to the island. His jaw was set in a way that made you frown.

“Yeah,” he finally said, his tone a little more serious than usual. “But… you should stay close, okay?”

You blinked in surprise. “What? Why?”

Luffy's gaze flickered toward you again, and this time, you saw a slight frown tugging at his lips. “I don’t know. Just… don’t go off by yourself. Promise?”

You raised an eyebrow, genuinely puzzled. “Luffy, I’ve been on plenty of islands by myself before. You know I’m fine.”

Luffy’s expression hardened just a bit, his usual carefree smile replaced by a look of worry you’d never seen before. “This one feels different. I don’t want anything happening to you.”

You were taken aback by his words. It wasn’t like Luffy to be so concerned. In fact, you could count on one hand the number of times you’d seen him act like this, and each time, it was about someone else, never you.

“You’ve never been this serious about anything before, Luffy,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, though there was a knot of worry beginning to form in your stomach. “You know you can’t always protect me, right? I’m not a kid.”

Luffy’s eyes widened for a second, and he quickly reached out to grab your wrist. “It’s not about that! I—” He stopped himself and looked away, his voice growing quieter. “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

You could tell he was struggling with something. The way his hands clenched and unclenched around the railing made it clear that whatever this was, it was affecting him more than he let on.

“Luffy, what’s going on?” you asked softly, turning to face him fully. “You’ve never acted like this before.”

Luffy hesitated, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time in what felt like forever. His voice was low, but there was an unmistakable intensity to it.

“I’m just… worried, okay?” he said, his words more vulnerable than you’d ever heard him sound. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I just… I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not like this.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you were silent for a moment, taking in his words. Luffy’s voice was laced with an emotion you didn’t expect from him: fear. For the first time, you realized just how much he truly cared, and it made your chest tighten with a mixture of affection and confusion.

“You’re worried about me?” you asked quietly, stepping closer to him. “But you’re always so confident, so carefree. What’s different this time?”

Luffy opened his mouth, but no words came out. He took a deep breath, his usual optimism flickering back to life as he gave you a hesitant smile, though it was tinged with unease.

“I guess… I just want to make sure you’re always safe. Even when we’re going to a crazy place like this,” he said. “You’re important to me, and I can’t help it.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. Of course, you always knew Luffy cared about the crew, but hearing him say it directly… it was different. He had always been the one to throw himself into danger without a second thought, and yet here he was, standing before you, practically asking for your trust.

You took a deep breath and smiled gently at him. “Luffy, I’m not going anywhere. I promise. We’ll get through this just like we always do—together.”

Luffy’s expression softened at your words, and for a moment, the tension left his shoulders. He smiled back at you, the worry in his eyes finally starting to fade.

“Okay. I’ll hold you to that,” he said, his voice lightening once more. “But still—just don’t wander off too far. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

You chuckled at his persistence but nodded. “Got it, Captain.”

As the Thousand Sunny neared the island’s shore, you felt Luffy’s hand brush against yours, his fingers lingering for just a moment. He didn’t say anything, but the gesture was enough. You both stood together, staring at the island as it loomed closer.

Despite his overprotectiveness, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth in your heart. You weren’t sure what had sparked this side of Luffy, but the fact that he cared so much made you feel incredibly lucky to have him by your side.

The island awaited, but for now, you were content, knowing that whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

♡♡♡

© 2025 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sooo what if Dante falls in love with Enzo’s pretty little niece who’s in town for a visit or for work? Like they have a little meet-cute when Enzo asks her to run an errand for him and instead runs into Dante? (Love your stuff!!🩵)

How to pick up a package, almost die and accidentally get a hot boyfriend: A beginner’s guide

Pairing: Dante x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,9k

Synopsis: All you had to do was pick up a package. Simple, right? Instead, you faceplant into a silver-haired menace, survive a monster attack and somehow leave with a date. Family errands have never been this dangerous - or this attractive.

Warnings: Dante isn't as flirty in this one (but still hilarious no worries), reader is a normal chick in this fic for once, apart from the usual, nothing to fear lol

My Dante request are still open so HIT ME UP

Enzo doesn’t give you much to go on.

"Pick up a package from Vito’s," he practically orders, short and impatient.

"Tell him it’s for me. In and out. No big deal. And don’t talk to anyone except Vito, got it?"

You don't even hesitate. You’re just visiting for a few weeks before returning back home - a favour for family sounds easy enough and never hurt nobody. After all, Enzo is your favourite uncle. Well, to be specific, he’s your only uncle. But still your favourite.

You dart around the area he described to you with no real aim. What are you even looking for? A supermarket, a gun shop? Given Enzo’s shady business, nothing is impossible.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally spot it. The shop's tucked between two boarded-up buildings, the neon sign crackling like it’s one cough away from dying. You hesitate only a second before pushing inside. Oh, hopefully this doesn’t mean trouble. Your uncle wouldn’t send you straight into danger after all…

Right?

The bell overhead gives a tired rattle.

And before you’re really able to focus on anything inside, you slam into him.

Tall, solid, wild white hair falling into light, piercing eyes. Blue? Silver? You can’t tell, and honestly, you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe.

"Easy, princess," he drawls, a rough little laugh curling out of him as he catches your elbow before you hit the ground.

You flush, muttering something like an apology. No, no, no. As if running someone over isn’t worse enough, why does he have to be this handsome?

He doesn’t let go right away, his touch lingering around your arm just a few seconds to long.

His gaze slides down you. Not rude, not predatory, just… curious. Focused. Like he’s cataloging you, every detail.

You pull yourself together enough to finally speak up, force your body to finally cooperate again.

"I’m just picking something up. For my uncle. Enzo. Are you Vito, by any chance?"

You idiot. As if some random guy in a shop named Vito’s would know your uncle. As if this man looks like someone named Vito.

And yet, his expression shifts the second you say the name. Subtle. You wouldn’t catch it if you weren’t still embarrassingly focused on him.

"Enzo, huh," he comments, voice dipping a little lower.

"Didn’t know he had family. Why did he send someone like you here?"

You shrug awkward, caught completely off-guard again. Why on earth does your uncle know men like him? And why are you still single if he does?

"Just visiting. I’m not, uh… part of anything."

You mean business. You mean the shady stuff you know Enzo keeps quiet about. Not that you know what it is, exactly. To be honest, you really don’t want to. But

He smiles at your clumsy words - slow, almost dangerous. Like he knows exactly how little you actually know, like he knows all too well what “anything” means.

What a cute little thing you are.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his thumb brushing absently against the crook of your elbow before he finally lets go.

"You don't look like you are."

The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine. You can’t tell if it’s a warning or a compliment. Maybe both. Or maybe nothing at all.

You clear your throat, trying to shake it off. Focus. You aren’t 12 anymore, that guy isn’t Gojo Satoru. Talking to handsome guys might not be your daily business, but to get this flustered by it is still embarrassing.

"So, uh… you work here?"

The laugh that bursts out of him is genuine, rough and amused.

"Hell no," he replies casually.

"Just passing through. Like you. What’s your name, by the way?"

“(y/n). And…yours?”

“Huh, nice to meet ya. It’s Dante for you.”

You nod, fiddling nervously with the strap of your bag. Dante…not a name you’ve heard that often until now. Does it suit him? You eye him up and down as subtle as possible, catch a glimpse of his tones upper body and wild eyes. Oh, it definitely does.

 "Right. Cool. Well. I’ll just-"

Before you can finish, a low, almost vibrating sound rumbles through the shop.

Your heart drops to the floor.

Not a machine.

Something alive.

The easy-going tilt of Dante's body sharpens instantly. His hand is already moving toward the weapon slung across his back you haven’t even noticed before you have the chance to realize something's wrong.

"Get behind me," he mutters, stepping between you and the shadows gathering near the back wall.

"Wait, what-?"

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck. That sounds exactly like the shady business, like you should have never been here in the first place. What are you supposed to do? Run? Hide? Stay behind Dante? Get away from him as far as possible? Your mind races back and forth, stiff body not able to move a single inch.

And then they lurch into the light, creatures that should not exist, and the room explodes into chaos.

You barely manage to scramble behind a rack of rusted car parts as Dante moves.

He fights like a storm. Fast, wild, beautiful in a way that’s terrifying. His sword sings through the air, cutting down the creatures one by one.

You can't look away. Not from the monsters. Not from him.

When the last body hits the floor within what feels like the blink of an eye, smoking and twitching, he straightens, breathing steady like he just finished a jog, not a slaughter.

What.

The.

Hell.

He turns, catching you staring.

"You okay, sweetheart?" he questions, and this time the nickname lands softer, even gentle, as if he didn’t go berserk a few seconds ago.

You nod, because your voice is lost somewhere back by the register, back where you came from.

Dante crosses the ruined shop in a few strides, reaching out his hand again. This time, when you take it, your fingers curl instinctively into his, shaking by the aftermath of what just happened.

You didn’t even register what was going on. That creatures just destroyed the shop and that stranger, that handsome stranger named Dante, slaughtered them like a turkey at Thanksgiving. What on earth was that?

"C'mon," he urges, voice low and rough with something you can't name while softly pushing you back onto your wobbly feet.

"Let's get you outta here."

The walk back is quieter, but not awkward. Well, at least not as awkward as it should be, given the scene from earlier. Every few steps, Dante’s hand brushes against yours like he’s checking you’re still there.

You sneak glances at him, trying to fit the man you just met with the man who just tore monsters apart like it was nothing.

"You’re... not exactly normal, are you?" you ask finally.

He huffs a laugh.

"Depends who you ask."

"And those things-?"

"Pests," he explains briefly, smirking sideways at you.

"Wrong place, wrong time."

You squint your eyes while tilting your head. Pests, seriously?

"Pests don’t usually have that many teeth."

He chuckles again, slow and warm, and without thinking about it, he slings his arm around your shoulders.

You freeze for half a second. This came so sudden, so out of the blue that you can’t help but shamelessly stare at him with big eyes. After all the things you just saw, after it is more than clear that this man isn’t just a friendly neighbour from next door while you’re nothing but an ordinary woman, he still cares about you?' At the moment, none of this matters. Before you can convince yourself otherwise, you lean into him, because it feels weirdly natural. Like you fit there. Like this is somehow where you belong. Like this is where you should be.

It has to be the white hair. It’s always the white hair.

By the time you reach Enzo’s assaulted front step, you're tucked snug against Dante’s side, his hand draped lazily along your jacket as you still hold onto him for what feels like dear life. Getting comforted by a handsome stranger after almost dying definitely wasn’t on your bingo card for today. That doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy it, though.

He rings the bell with a cocky little smile.

“That’s gonna be fun.”

When Enzo opens the door, he stops cold, taking in the two of you - your bright, nervous smile, Dante’s possessive arm, the wrecked look in your eyes that says you’ve seen way more than you were supposed to.

Dante grins lazily. "Special delivery," he announces proudly.

Enzo’s eyes narrow like a threat he’s definitely going to make, taking a step back before inspecting your body carefully.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, but if it wasn’t for Dante, I might be death by now. I owe him my life.”

“The only thing you owe me is a date, sweetheart. Can you believe I met your niece? You never told me you have one!”

Uncle Enzo doesn’t answer. The second you disappear inside - still shaken, still clueless - Enzo grabs Dante by the arm and drags him onto the porch.

"You’re outta your damn mind," Enzo hisses, voice low but furious.

"She’s not part of this world."

Dante smirks, unbothered, dragging a toothpick from his pocket and slipping it between his teeth.

"Yeah?" he says lazily.

"Seems like the world found her anyway. And by world, I include myself too. What a cute little thing she is. Never thought your relatives could look like…this."

Enzo steps closer, jabbing a finger into Dante’s chest.

"Stay away from her. She's not built for this. She’s not-"

He cuts off, running a hand through his thinning hair, suddenly looking a hell of a lot older.

"She’s just a kid, Dante. A good one. Innocent. Don’t ruin her."

Dante’s face shifts.

For a second, just a second, the mask cracks - and you see something fierce and guilty flicker in his pale eyes.

He bites down on the toothpick harder.

"I know," he mutters, voice low.

And because you’re standing just inside the door, because you heard the whole damn thing,  you press your back to the wall, heart pounding, not sure whether you want to run away from him...

...or straight toward him.

The door creaks under your weight, giving you away with a loud squeak.

Dante's head snaps toward the sound, a slow grin spreading across his mouth like a sunrise. Enzo groans like a man being personally victimized by the universe.

"Shit," you blurt, caught red-handed even though you try desperately to escape last-minute.

"Well, well," Dante drawls, stepping back inside like he owns the place, that cocky swagger back in full force.

"How much of that did you hear, princess?"

You lift your chin defiantly, cheeks burning.

"Enough to know you called me cute."

Dante winks, completely unrepentant.

"That I did. You gonna sue me, sweetheart?"

You open your mouth – and absolutely nothing comes out except an embarrassing, flustered squeak.

Enzo watches the two of you like he’s witnessing a car crash in slow motion.

"I swear to God," he mutters under his breath, rubbing his temples like he can already feel the headache brewing, "if you two idiots start dating, I’m moving to Alaska."

"I like Alaska," you comment brightly, before your brain catches up with your mouth.

Dante snorts, delighted.

"See? She’s got good taste. First me, now Alaska."

"That’s it. I’m getting the shotgun," Enzo grumbles, stomping toward the kitchen.

You and Dante just grin at each other like you're already plotting how to make everything worse.

“Dinner tonight, sweetheart?”

“I…I’d love to!”

[luviisabella]

healing with luviisabella ۶ৎBNHA UNI.AU

(a short series, suggestive + fluff)

-> katsuki bakugou 🩵

———————————————————————

It had been 4 months, almost 5 since you and Bakugou started dating. It was a cliche friends to lovers and he ironically confessed first. You still remember the day because his face was red and he swore if you said no he would have died then and there. Luckily for both of you, no wasn’t the answer..

You had been in relationships before.. one becoming very intimate and it’s the reason why you’re preparing hot chocolate and getting ready with Bakugou to have what might be an interesting conversation.

The topic of sex hasn’t really lingered much in your relationship, small PDA and casual touching of course, but it never led to anything more than that. It started to make you wonder, was something wrong ?

You gently sat the hot chocolate down before getting comfortable on the couch. Bakugou was in his patrol uniform, it was late but unfortunately he got called in, meaning you had a good hour to get this over with.

You hesitated, not sure how to really start the conversation, so you decided to lay it out as blunt as possible.

“I know we’ve only been dating for four months..”

his eyebrow quirks up

“But I’m wondering… how come you haven’t.. i don’t know, mentioned or wanted sex ?”

Now you’ve got his attention, he looks at you with a straight face, almost scanning your eyes for something.

“I could ask you the same thing” is his only response as he relaxes against the arm of the couch.

He has a point.. why haven’t you said anything ?

“I don’t know..” and for some reason you can’t seem to meet his eyes

“I’m waiting for you, y/n”

His words send chills down your spine.. you look up at him wanting to ask but he already answers

“I want you to come to me when you’re ready”

And his sentence repeats in your head, you know he means it, Bakugou could never be bothered to fake anything

You try to mumble out words but instead your lip quivers as your eyes fill with tears.

He hesitates to move closer to you, not sure what he said caused you to cry.

“I’m sorry.” And this may have been the first time you’ve ever caught him by surprise, because what the hell are you apologizing for ?

“I’m.. *hiccup* I’m sorry.. I think I’ve been too scared, I did it before but one person and he-“ and your vision went completely blurry, overcome by tears you could only make out the movement of what looked like Bakugou’s figure.

His arms wrapped around you, holding you in tight and although you couldn’t see his expression.. he looked.. sad.

“I d-didnt want you to hate me.. I couldn’t.. I couldn’t talk about it because I wanted.. I wanted to forget.. it hurt so much and I-“

Your words were cut off by him hugging you tighter and you couldn’t help out cry into his chest.

“You don’t have to explain it to me.”

Those were his only words as he let you cry, he could tell you needed it, this was something you had been holding in for a while.

Once he noticed you were quiet he gently let go and let you rub the tears from your cheeks, he wanted to give you as much space as he could while still letting you know he was right here.

“He hurt me.. I was an idiot when we dated and it wasn’t until after that I realized all the things he did and I can’t take it back or change it and I feel.. I don’t know”

“Why take it back ?”

You look up at him in confusion..

“You had an experience with a guy who treated you like shit. He’s clearly a fucking dumbass for letting you walk out of his life but it seems to have worked out cause now you’re mine.”

And his little remark earns a soft smile from you, one he always loves to see.

“Don’t cry over some piece of shit who never cared to begin with. What happened between you two, it doesn’t matter. You’re y/n, not him, and he doesn’t and didn’t deserve you. So get that jackass off your mind cause he doesn’t deserve that shit either.”

And now you can’t help but roll your eyes at his obvious attempt to make you laugh.

He leans in to kiss your forehead.. a gentle act but it always makes your heart melt.

“If we’re doing anything, it’s at your own pace got that ?”

And you nod your head wondering how you got so lucky. Wondering if all the things you went through were with it if it meant you’d have this. Have him.

He gets ready to stand up seeing as his patrol starts soon but before he does he gives you a much needed kiss and leans into whisper in your ear..

“I’ll make sure I do everything his ass failed to do. I’ll be the first and the last to give you what you need.”

And before you could process what he meant he was already up, grinning because seeing your reaction to his words was worth every bit of him being late.

The door closed and you could hear his explosions as he went off to his patrol.. despite everything, the tears, the sadness, the anger, you knew it would be okay.

sincerely, a girl who’s still healing :)

[munsonsmixtapes]

You Were Never Mine

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

After finding out that your boyfriend has been cheating on you with Eddie, you invite Eddie to breakfast to talk things over which leads to more.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut ( p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) public sex, mention of cheating, mention of emotional abuse

The only sounds in the diner that can be heard is the clinking of plates as well as the chatter amongst the other customers. You lift your head from your pancakes to look at the man sitting across from you. Neither of you have touched your food, too much tension in the air between you to do so. You want to say something, to ask him why he did it, but you can’t get yourself to speak. 

Eddie already feels like a piece of shit, but he feels even more like one when he looks into your eyes. He can tell that you’ve been crying and that knot in his stomach gets even bigger. The pain almost rivals the black eye you gave him, but he thinks he deserves it which is why he wouldn’t let you help him when you realized what you had done. 

He should hate you considering the circumstances, but he just can’t. You’re so fucking nice and he can’t stand it. You asked him out for breakfast after finding out that he had been sleeping with your boyfriend and maybe he’s mad because he knew he wouldn’t do the same. He doesn’t even know why he agreed to it in the first place.

Maybe it’s just because he wants closure. To talk it out then move on with his life. He also wants to apologize to you. He doesn’t know what good it would do but he feels like it’s the right thing to do. He wants to assure you that he really didn’t know about you. He just thought he was hooking up with a guy who bought weed from him every once in a while.

“I hate him,” is all you say and the words are filled with so much bitterness, so much pain that it feels palpable. Eddie doesn’t know what to respond or if he even should. You have every right to hate Henry and he’d never tell you that your feelings are invalid. Especially right now. 

“Me too,” Eddie responds. And Eddie does hate Henry. Mostly for what he did to you. That’s all Eddie’s cared about since the two of you found out the truth last night. He didn’t think anything of Henry wanting to keep the whole thing a secret because he’s used to that. Nobody wants people to know that they’re hooking up with Eddie “the freak” Munson. Nobody’s ever been hurt by that besides him, so seeing your tear stained cheeks is hard for him to take in. 

He can’t imagine how you feel. Years gone just because of a stupid mistake that wasn’t even yours. And you’re here blaming yourself for Henry’s actions. Last night after he kicked Henry out, he invited you to stay for a drink and you accepted. After a few beers, you loosened up a bit, going on and on about how you should have seen it coming, should have loved him more, put in more effort. 

The whole thing made Eddie sick. You got cheated on and you’re the one who feels guilty? How fucked up is that? He tried to tell you that it wasn’t your fault but you wouldn’t listen. And why would you believe him? You don’t know him and quite frankly, you don’t want to. 

Or maybe you do. You don’t even really know why you invited him to breakfast. Maybe it’s because you feel bad that he got dragged into this whole mess because Henry can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“You’re what?” He asks, actually offended by your apology. 

“I’m sorry.” You repeat the words with more confidence because you are sorry. You know about his reputation around town but you seem to be the only person who’s gotten close enough to know it’s not true. He’s sweet and kind and you wish more people could see that. That’s he’s not the scary guy everyone thinks he is.

“Why are you sorry? You walked in on your boyfriend and I having sex and you’re sorry?”

“I just feel bad that he did this to you.” You have a pained look on your face and this time, it’s for him. He doesn’t know why, but that almost makes him want to cry. No one besides his uncle has ever cared for him like this so he’s not entirely sure how to feel. 

“Why should I care? We were just using each other for our bodies, but he was your boyfriend. So really, I should be apologizing to you. Which, I am sorry.” Eddie would never admit how hurt he truly is. That would require being vulnerable and he refuses to do that. He just can’t get himself to open up about his true feelings and he’s especially not going to do that now.

“You didn’t know.” You’re saying the words as if you’re defending him and Eddie’s getting really tired of you being so nice. If you were any other woman, you would have treated him like shit, called him all the names in the book. But you didn’t. You haven’t. 

“I’m still sorry. I feel awful, especially since you found out…that way.” He can still hear your screams, the look of horror on your face as tears pour down your cheeks. That image will haunt his dreams forever, he’s sure of it. 

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. Your shoulders slump as you sit there, hands underneath your thighs and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so pathetic. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Especially not you. You’re so sweet and nice and he can’t see why anyone would want to hurt you. It’d be like hurting a puppy. 

“It’s not okay,” Eddie says, anger rising in his chest. He’s not even angry at you, he’s angry for you. Because you don’t seem to be mad enough for his liking. He wanted to see you yell at Henry, to hit him, to take out all your anger on him like people usually do when they catch their partner in that kind of situation. He just hates that your bottling it all up. It’s only a matter of time before you explode. 

“That asshole hurt you. But I guess that just shows how much better you are than me because I would have beat his ass. I should’ve. I can’t believe he tried to blame you, y/n. This isn’t your fault. At all. He knows he fucked up but he doesn’t want to accept the blame.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” You ask, raising your voice and it catches Eddie completely off guard. “He did it constantly and I let him because I thought that was the kind of love I deserved. I know now that I deserve better.” You say the last part more quietly, your gaze lowering to the table. And just when Eddie thought his heart couldn’t break any more. 

Silence settles between the two of you and Eddie pays the check despite your argument and when you both end up in the parking lot, he doesn’t want to leave you. He wants to pull you in his arms and never let go. He wants to protect you, to make sure that you never get hurt again. He’s not sure he could handle it if you did.

He doesn’t know why, but he invites you to sit in his van. Maybe it’s because that’s where he feels the most comfort so he’s hoping you’ll feel that way too. You seem surprised when he opens the passenger door for you and that tells him everything he needs to know about Henry. If he didn’t open doors for you then what other stuff did he not do for you that you clearly deserved? Bring you flowers? Now he kind of wants to buy you some just to see your pretty smile. 

The van is quiet besides the metal music that’s playing at a low volume on the radio as the two of you sit in silence, neither of you sure what you should say. You don’t know why he invited you to sit with him but you’re grateful when rain begins to pour down, hitting the vehicle rather loudly. Eddie would never tell you that’s actually grateful so he has an excuse for you to stay.

He hates that he’s now thinking about how well he’d treat you. How he’d never even think about cheating on you if you gave him a chance. He doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about it because he knows you wouldn’t. No one ever does. He’s just someone that they want to see between the sheets then turn right around and whisper the meanest things behind his back. 

Eddie knows that you would never be so cruel, but he still can’t get himself to make a move no matter how pretty you look sitting in his passenger seat. You just broke up with your boyfriend anyway and he can still see the bandage over your heart so maybe getting close to you in that way isn’t the best idea. 

So why are you scooting closer? Why is your thigh pressing against his as you lean your head on his shoulder? His arms hesitantly wrap around you which gives you room to fully lean into him and without thinking too much about, his hand reaches up to scratch the back of your head gently. It’s something he loves being done to him so he’s hoping that it brings you the same comfort. 

You stay like that for a minute and when you lean back up, his face is so close to yours. You watch his eyes widen as he gulps, his lips parting. His ips that you now so desperately want to kiss. He seems to be thinking the same thing as he leans forward, his eyes flicking to your own lips. 

He brings his hand up to rest on the back of your neck as he pulls you close as your hands press against his chest, the two of you slowly leaning in until his lips finally slot between yours. It’s gentle and sweet but awkward. It’s almost like neither of you have kissed anyone before and the awkwardness of it just makes you both giggle, especially when you acknowledge how weird the whole thing really is. 

But that doesn’t seem to stop either of you as you lean in again, more hungry this time as his hands move up into your hair and his shirt is bunched in your fist as his tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a moan and you’re not sure how you ended up there, but no you’re straddling his lap as he bunches up your dress around your waist as his hands press against your bare back. 

You begin to grind against his crotch and he lets out a moan of his own as he tries his best to buck his hips against yours. He doesn’t know when you ditched your cardigan but it’s now in the passenger seat and he’s kissing the now exposed skin of your shoulder as you continue to grind on him. 

“I need you,” you whine into his mouth when he reconnects your lips and hearing you be so needy for him is making him unbelievably hard. 

“I’m yours,” he breaths and you immediately move to pull down his sweat pants and underwear. You then reach down and pull the lever to lean the seat back, letting out a loud laugh at how it jerks back, causing you to fall forward on top of him. Eddie’s convinced that hearing your pretty has added ten years to his life. 

You kiss him again and gasp when his fingers push your panties to the side, pushing inside and you let out a sound that’s so hot that he’s trying to commit to memory so he can replay it in his head over and over. He pumps in and out, moving slowly, trying to figure out what you like and when you grab hold of his hand and push it farther, he gets the hint. He moves fast and hard, looking up just in time to see you throw your head back, another pretty moan escaping your lips. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says softly. “Sound so pretty. Wanna make some more noises for me?” 

“Please,” you beg and he keeps his eyes on you, wondering how you’ll react when he gets inside you considering that just his fingers are already making you crazy. He pumps even harder and you grab onto his shoulders, squeezing them tightly as you’re already orgasming and it makes you realize how selfish Henry really was in bed.

As Eddie gives you time to catch your breath, you realize how crazy this whole thing really is. How many people end up sleeping with the person their partner cheated with? And how many times does it feel even better than it did with their partner? 

When he asks you what you like and you almost want to cry at how sweet he’s being, how he actually wants to make you feel good. You can’t believe that this is the same man who people are convinced is a vessel for the devil. 

“Can we go slow?” You ask and Eddie smiles, making your heart melt. 

“We can do whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replies as his hands move up and down your hips as his hands slide up your dress to help you remove your panties before you toss them onto your cardigan. 

Once he gets inside, you begin to ride him, slowly moving up and down as your dress comes off to reveal your bare chest that Eddie so desperately wants to get his mouth on. He can’t help but watch your tits bounce as your pace picks up just slightly, his hands resting on your waist as he guides you while bucking his hips against yours. 

The windows are progressively fogging up as the rain continues to hit the roof, but your moans and panting seem to down out the sound. Eddie let his eyes flutter closed even though he knows he could watch you for hours. He can’t believe that Henry actually told you to your face that he was only fucking Eddie because he needed what you couldn’t give him. 

This is easily the best sex he’s ever had and he doesn’t know how he’s going to move on after this. He wonders if he’d be going too far if he asked you to come to his place. He wants to explore all the ways he can bring you pleasure, to show you how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful woman in his bed. 

“Oh my god,” you whine and Eddie knows what’s approaching. He can see it as he gets fully seated inside you, watching you cry on his cock as you take all of him as another orgasm courses through you, his name falling from your lips this time. 

“Eddie,” you practically scream and he's not that far behind you, reaching his own peak, pulling out in just the knick of time as he leaks out all over the both of you. 

“Guess this means we’ll both have to shower,” you tell him and he can’t help but smile widely. 

“Guess it does,” he nods and reaches into his glove box for some napkins to attempt to clean the both of you up as best as he can before putting your dress back on before helping you back into your seat. He then pulls up his pants and puts the car in drive before taking you to his apartment so you both can get cleaned up amongst other things. 

As you sit in Eddie’s passenger seat, coming down from the best orgasm of your life, you can’t believe that you just slept with the guy your ex boyfriend cheated on you with. And you can’t believe even more that you’re about to do it again. 

Eddie’s hand lands on your thigh and he gives us a squeeze as he turns out of the diner parking lot, both of you actually thanking Henry as fucked up as it is, because it led you to each other. And both of you couldn’t be more grateful for that. 

[nanamineedstherapy]

Crack Extended Cut: Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Pregnant Reader x Gojo Satoru x Nanami Kento

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

Group Chat: Dad Crimes 💀 (Anon)

Daddy: Did you know a fetus can taste what the mother eats?

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: Did you know the placenta produces more estrogen in a day than a non-pregnant person in three years?

Father Time: Why are you like this?

Daddy: Because she’s glowing. 😏

Father Time: What are you implying?

Daddy: [Attachment: blurry pic of you asleep, hand on bump]

Father Time: Delete that.

Daddy: I refuse to be censored. Did you know pregnancy can cause increased vaginal lubrication?

Father Time: Stop.

Daddy: If someone were to—apply that information correctly—

Father Time: Satoru.

Daddy: It’s for science. 😏

Father Time: You're why science gets a bad name.

---

Daddy: Also, clitoral enlargement during pregnancy is a thing.

Father Time: No.

Daddy: Bet you're thinking about it now.

Father Time: Stop.

Daddy: But what if—

Father Time: You’re on thin ice.

Daddy: …I could feel it through the sheets.

Father Time: Neutering you is back on the table.

Daddy: 😳

Father Time: Pregnancy increases cervix sensitivity by 200%.

Daddy: WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS.

Father Time: You started it.

Daddy: I was flirting. You’re citing sources.

---

Daddy: I think she got bigger.

Father Time: That’s generally how pregnancy works.

Daddy: No, like... I had a religious experience.

Father Time: You need a therapist.

Daddy: We already have one. She thinks you need a therapist.

Father Time: She's not wrong.

---

Father Time: She made that face again.

Daddy: The “I’m going to ruin you” face?

Father Time: Yes.

Daddy: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Father Time: You’re sick.

Daddy: You’re attracted.

Father Time: I didn’t say that.

Daddy: You didn’t deny it.

---

Father Time: She sighed in her sleep.

Daddy: Was it a sexy sigh?

Father Time: Why does that matter?

Daddy: Because I heard it through the wall and I haven't recovered.

Father Time: Get a grip.

Daddy: I have a grip. On nothing. Because I’m being respectful.

---

Daddy: I walked in. She was doing yoga.

Father Time: …and?

Daddy: Downward dog.

Father Time: You're pathetic.

Daddy: You weren’t even in the room and you’re sweating.

Father Time: [Seen 11:24 PM]

---

Daddy: She came out in your shirt.

Father Time: …Which shirt.

Daddy: The white one. No bra. Wet from the shower. It’s transparent when wet.

Father Time: Do not elaborate.

Daddy: I saw heaven and hell simultaneously.

---

Daddy: She said my name in her sleep.

Father Time: She said mine yesterday.

Daddy: …Do you think she has a favorite?

Father Time: If you ask her, you’ll die.

---

Father Time: Did you know the cervix produces natural anesthesia during labor?

Daddy: …Like numbing cream?

Father Time: Endorphins. It can override the pain entirely.

Daddy: So it’s like… euphoric pain?

Father Time: In rare cases, it leads to orgasm during childbirth.

Daddy: I’m calling the Vatican.

---

Father Time: Blood flow to the pelvis increases 30%.

Daddy: Kento.

Father Time: Heightened arousal. Pressure. Release.

Daddy: KENTO.

Father Time: I'm just explaining the biology.

Daddy: You're explaining my kink.

---

Father Time: Vaginal elasticity increases.

Daddy: Kento.

Father Time: Meaning the body is more capable of accommodating

Daddy: DO NOT FINISH THAT.

Father Time: You’re the one who started this.

Daddy: You're the one talking about accommodation like a hotel brochure.

---

Daddy: Status?

Father Time: Sleeping. [Attachment: peaceful pic of you curled on your side]

Daddy: She looks like she’s dreaming of stabbing us.

Father Time: Possibly. Still beautiful.

---

Daddy: She ate five burgers.

Father Time: Good. She needs the calories.

Daddy: She made eye contact during the last bite. It felt threatening.

Father Time: Sounds accurate.

---

Father Time: Her back hurts.

Daddy: So does mine.

Father Time: Not the same.

Daddy: Emotionally, it is.

Father Time: You're a clown.

---

Daddy: Her boobs.

Father Time: Don’t.

Daddy: They exist, Nanami. And they are not playing fair.

Father Time: I’m blocking you.

Daddy: She was cutting watermelon. Sweating. Arms flexing.

Father Time: I'm regretting everything.

---

Father Time: Her feet are swelling.

Daddy: And her thighs are looking—

Father Time: Don’t say it.

Daddy: Juicy.

Father Time: You’re a menace.

Daddy: Takes one to text one.

---

Daddy: She wore the sundress.

Father Time: Mm.

Daddy: With the slit.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: It moved, Nanami.

Father Time: We're in public.

Daddy: You looked.

Father Time: I never said I didn’t.

---

Father Time: She cried over melted ice cream.

Daddy: And you still went back for more.

Father Time: Obviously.

Daddy: You’re going soft.

Father Time: You’ve always been soft.

Daddy: I’m crying right now.

Father Time: Me too.

---

Daddy: She looks huge now.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: We’re almost there.

Father Time: I know.

Daddy: I’m scared.

Father Time: Same.

Daddy: But I think we’ll be okay.

Father Time: We will.

---

A/N:

Comment something, I like reading comments.

Previous Oneshot Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3] | Main Series [Tumblr/Ao3]

Next Chapter likely tomorrow.

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Beta - @blackrimmedrose

[georgiapeach30513]

Nothing You Could Do, Part 3

Summary: What do you decide?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, very brief moment of a breeding kink, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Dividers created by @saradika-graphics

You don’t want to be dramatic, but there’s an empty aching hole in your chest ever since Steve left your apartment. You hurt. You miss your nose being petted. And the warmth of his body pressed against your back. While those thick arms squeeze you the right amount. He was comfort.

You haven’t budged an inch since he left. Weighing out your options, and honestly there’s only one thing that even remotely makes sense. But either way your world is going to be turned upside down. But the one way has you with Steve. The other has you left dealing with everything. Alone. Utterly alone.

It will get out who you are, and then you will be just the president’s whore. Your family will wear this shame deeper than you. Your mother will be so disappointed. Will cry that she knew you would go to DC and become a politician’s play thing. But you didn’t feel that way with Steve. And he wouldn’t have offered what he did offer. He is willing to take that shame, and make you his ‘wife’.

Steve is willing to buy you the clothes, give you a ring, take you with him as his fiance. But then you’re going to have to play the part. Would it be so bad? Obviously in front of people you would be the woman he is going to marry, but behind the scenes you would be dating him. And fucking. You like the fucking part. And the cuddles. You really like the cuddles. And the petting. He is a great petter.

And Steve is nice. He’s really nice, and sweet, and funny, and you hit it off immediately with him. So your two choices are to choose to not have him in your life, or maybe have a real relationship. Even though you’d be the president’s wife. That’s the scary part. You’d be the First Lady. You’re not even a lady. Much less the lady of the United States.

“Holy shit,” you sigh, throwing your head back. “I’m fucked either way,” but if you choose to keep him in your life, you actually get to fuck. And fuck him. And then the cuddles, and the giggles. It’s better than people being afraid to come near you since you’ve been with the president.

Vibrations from your phone take you out of your peaceful daydreaming of Steve’s head between your thighs, and you pick it up. Going cross eyed at all the notifications that immediately flood your phone.

“Fuck. Me,” you whine as your phone starts to blow up quicker than you could even respond. The news is out. Everyone has seen you kissing the future president of the United States. How the fuck did this happen?

You just ignore everything coming in, except one phone call. “Hey, mom.”

“Do you have something you need to tell me?”

“I got a manicure over the weekend. They’re pink, and I have some tulips painted on my ring finger,” your mother sighs on the other end. If she has something to say, she can say it. You truly don’t want to go right out and say it because you just can’t. This will hurt her. Hiding something like this will feel like stabbing her in the heart, “I also got a pedicure, but they’re all pink. What about you?”

“Really? That’s all?”

She sounds annoyed. You can’t tell her the truth because she wouldn’t understand that the future president has a godlike dick. You can't exactly admit you’re engaged because that is where the hurt will come in. “Umm, I’m no longer going to be working at the bar. Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Why aren’t you going to be working at the bar, hmm?”

Because you’re going to be working on your knees, sucking the president’s cock while he fingers you. “Umm…”

“Steve Rogers wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would he?”

“Uhh…” how the hell do you possibly bring this up. You need a lie, and need one really quickly.

“Honey, I saw you kissing our future president.”

“Were you in DC?” You gasp. She’s used to your antics.

“Don’t start with me young lady,” you sit up straight on your couch. She has that tone. “Why the fuck are you kissing the future president?”

“First of all, we don’t know if he’s the future president. Democracy and all. We gotta vote. By the way, make sure you vote for my boyfriend.”

“Ahhh!” You yank the phone so far away from your ear, allowing her to scream to her heart's content. “Are you pregnant?”

“No, I’m not pregnant!”

“Have you fucked him?”

“What an odd question to ask me about my boyfriend.”

“How big is his dick?”

“Eww. Not only is this highly inappropriate to talk about this with my mother, but it’s definitely got to be classified information. Homeland security and stuff,” he is big. Real big. He’s got big balls, which works out great for his line of work.

“That is not how homeland security works.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that protocol says I can’t talk about Steve’s dick to random people. And may I remind you that you’re my mother. I don't want to discuss dicks of any kind with you,” she relents. Huffing out a bit of air. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

“Dating the president?”

“Presidential candidate. There is a difference.”

“How serious is this?”

Serious enough to walk around with a diamond ring on your finger and pretend to the world that you’re engaged kinda serious. “We’re still dating while he’s running for president.”

“Good point. He would only do that if you were serious, and he was — OH MY GOD! MY SON IN LAW IS GOING TO BE THE PRESIDENT!”

“Stop screaming!” Her voice immediately halts. You can’t process the fact that this could very well lead to marriage. Oh dear god…how did you feel about that? Do you like it? Are you confused? Yep, you’re extremely confused. Steve is great, and he’s great in bed. You usually get one or the other, you’d get both.

“I would very much like to meet him.”

“And I will have to get in touch with his security to make that happen,” your fingers play around with his card. As soon as you get off the phone with your mom, you’ll call him. There is no point in beating around the bush. He deserved to hear your answer.

“Are you going to have security detail?” fuck. It better not be his shadow Bucky. You can’t handle him right now. But yeah, you’re going to have to have someone with you at all times. Ugh.

“You know the answer to that question,” she hums, and you know she’s nodding her head. “I should really get going.”

“Why?”

“Uhh, Steve is going to take me shopping.”

“Probably for suitable clothing, hmm?”

“Yes, mom. I dress so poorly,” for his fiance, you do.

“Sweetheart, you can’t wear jeans when you’re walking next to the president.”

“He is not the president!” Yet. You googled him. Yet is the better word.

Your mom sighs dramatically. Drawing it out enough to make your eye twitch, “He will be. It’s almost a sure thing. He’s leading in the poll, and he’s one that has brought together everyone. He’s a good man for the country,” hopefully for you, too.

Hearing the serious tone in your mother’s voice makes you realize just how powerful Steve is. How loved he is. How she likes him for you, even if she doesn’t know him. But you do. You think you do. And now it’s now or never. “Mom, I really gotta go. I have to call Steve.”

“Honey, just remember who you are. Your life is never going to be the same. But remember who you are,” that is easier said than done. Judging by the nonstop vibrating of your phone, you know that your life is truly about to change.

The shadow of Bucky Barnes smirks as he looks at you. A new phone. Your phone and phone number were taken from you. Your social media is being scrubbed. Your body was searched. You had gone over the plan for you. Only a small circle of people know the truth of yours and Steve’s predicament. From this moment on you are his fiancé.

You’re the possible future president of the United States of America’s fiancé.

Holy shit.

“You look a bit flustered,” Bucky grins, watching you becoming more and more comfortable. “Is everything okay, Princess?”

“Don’t call me that,” you spit back. You don’t even get to go shopping. The clothes will be brought to you while they determine a color palette for you. Apparently it needs to be cool toned.

“That’s what Steve calls you.”

“Yeah, and Steve gets to be inside me,” the girl that is taking your measurements looks anywhere but at you, while the personal assistant or whatever she is tsks in your direction. She’s done that a lot. You constantly say the wrong things.

“Meadow,” Bucky coos, using his head to point at the women. “Learn to speak properly in front of mixed company. Especially when it comes to Steve’s extracurricular activity. Nobody wants to know what Congressman Rogers is doing behind closed doors.”

“He’s doing…”

“Eh eh eh,” he wags a finger at you. Me, you think silently. “Watch your quips. I am not them. Steve and I go way back. All the way back to children. But most people in his presence know him as Congressman Rogers, okay?” You respond by nodding your head. You can’t be you because you must be proper. With others anyways.

“When is Steve going to be here?” You don’t whine. But you’re not happy that you’re having to deal with these very nice women who know nothing about you, and you’re pretty sure they don’t think you’re good enough for ‘Congressman Rogers’.

“He had a meeting, and then he is coming here with the jeweler.”

“Jeweler?” Your eyebrow cocks up. You liked the sound of that.

“Yes,” he groans, leaning back in his chair. “The jeweler is fitting you with some very nice and lovely earrings, and of course your fiancé wanted to make sure you had the perfect ring,” the women giggle. Actually giggle, and smile up at you. “I know the two of you talked about it, and he of course proposed, but he just wanted to make sure you got the ring you truly wanted.”

“Yes. I almost forgot,” you sound ridiculous. “Am I always going to have to wear blazers, and pants?”

“No, for events you’ll have very lovely dresses,” Angie, Matilda, Janet, someone says. You can’t remember who is who. “But we’re working on your daily wardrobe. So how did you and Steve meet?”

Bucky clears his throat, awkwardly covering his eyes with worry on how you’ll respond. “The first time we met was at a bar,” he groans. That wasn’t the correct choice, obviously. “Both of us had long days. I didn’t even know who he was.”

“Imagine running into a bar for a quick drink, and meeting Steve Rogers. Was it a hotel bar?” You look up at Bucky who barely nods his head.

“Yeah. The Four Seasons. It’s kinda become our place,” they ooh, and ahh, and you realize that your blunder might not have been too bad. “And apparently I made such an impression that he had Mr. Barnes track me down. And he took me on a lovely first date picnic.”

“How did you guys go unnoticed?” One of the women almost claps as she smiles at you. Bucky with his stupid faces. You didn’t think about this.

“Umm, Mr. Barnes did his magic. I don’t ask questions.”

“And I don’t give details. Thank you, ladies. If you please, I need to take her to lunch. Thank you for your patience. If you can gather up some clothing options, and have it sent to Mr. Rogers place that would be fantastic.”

“Are you going to try the clothes on for the Congressman?” You smile nodding your head, but Bucky is already shuffling you towards the door. “We’ll make sure to have her clothes and undergarments sent to the house.”

“Undergarments won’t be necessary,” he nods again, placing a hand on your back as he guides you away.

“Bucky, I need undergarments,” you nearly snicker. Undergarments. So proper.

“Steve took the liberty of picking them out for you personally,” you audibly whimper, causing Bucky to turn to look at you with a smirk. His stupid faces. “He had that much of an effect on you?”

“We had that effect on each other,” Bucky nods, and you want to preen. So you did have an effect on Steve. “Am I allowed to be the real me in front of you? Or must I be proper?”

“Mixed company is not okay. But I am perfectly capable of handling your filthy mouth. Steve’s is worse, I’m sure,” oh, his is so much worse. Deliciously worse. “Nobody wants you to change. However, America doesn’t look kindly on knowing their president’s sex life. Best to just let them assume you’re having sex, and let their imagination do the rest.”

“Because he’s a hot candidate?”

“Yeah, Princess. He’s very favorable with the women just on looks alone,” Bucky opens the door to the outside for you, but you stand back. “Fucking horseshit,” he says under his breath before hooking his arm in yours, “Keep your head down, and don’t answer anybody.”

You do as you're told because this is well out of your pay grade. Photographers everywhere. Clicks, and screaming of your real name. You gulp knowing that your life has completely changed to a circus. Everyone knows you. They wanted to know more about you, and Bucky had seen to it that your social media was erased, and it’s acceptable as Congressman Rogers’ fiancé. Assured you that they’re protecting your family.

This is insanity, and all you can think about is his dick better be worth it. But imagining dealing with this without the aid of Steve’s staff. And Bucky. It would be a nightmare.

He pushes you into the car first before climbing in behind you, and slamming the door, “Fucking leeches. You okay?”

“Peachy.”

“It’s okay to not enjoy that. Nobody does,” what is there to like? People trying to shove a camera in your face, and ask invasive questions. When are you and Steve getting married? When are you having children? How is the wedding planning coming along? How is it any of their goddamn business?

“It’s weird. Everybody screaming your name.”

“Yeah, it never gets less weird. You just learn to tune it out, and ignore it.”

“Is this how things are always going to be?” He turns to look at you, shrugging with your comment. “I’ll spend more time with you than Steve?”

“No. You’ll be introduced to your own bodyguard, Yelena. And sometimes we’ll be in the presence of Steve’s VP, Sam Wilson.”

“Who is with Steve now?”

“Romanoff. And don’t get jealous of her,” her? “She isSteve’s bodyguard for the day, and she’s good at her job, and has a partner. But women feel inferior to her.”

“Why?”

“Because she's a badass,” easy enough. “Steve’s one of the most loyal people I know, okay?” You’re not sure why he’s telling you this. “You’re always going to hear a lot of ugly. A lot of conspiracies. And people always insert their opinions when they know nothing. Unfortunately people froth at the mouth over drama. People make shit up to try and create chaos, and sound like they know something when they don’t know anything. Just remember what you know.”

You point up at the driver of the car, and Bucky gives you a nod. He’s not mixed company, “I don’t know much, Bucky. It’s hard to trust my gut when I don’t really know the man,” he just nods in response. Clearly there isn’t much more to say. “Where are we having lunch?”

“At the house. You’ll have some time to eat and explore before Steve arrives. He’s prepared you with your own bedroom, but he does hope that you would join him in his.”

“Smooth,” Bucky only chuckles. “I feel like we’re living in the 1500s. The king is requesting you join him in his chambers for mounting and breeding.”

“I don’t think that’s what they said.”

“They might not have said it, but if the queen was having sex with the king it was for breeding purposes,” Bucky stares silently out of the front of the car, and you nod once, “Hmm,” he can’t argue with logic. But there would be no breeding. Just fun.

“By the way, there will be a doctor coming by tomorrow. This is a very delicate situation, but you need to be fully tested, and then your options for birth control will be spoken about.”

“Okay,” full health screening to make sure your pussy wasn’t diseasing the future president. And of course we can’t have unwanted babies.

“Are you on birth control?” You shake your head no. “Are you against it?” you shake your head no again. “He won’t make you do something you don’t want to, okay?”

“No, I think birth control is a great thing for both of us. We, umm…Steve has stamina.”

“I’m aware. And yes, if it’s something you are okay with, I think it would be a great option for you. Fucking like rabbits and all,” fucking like rabbits. Bucky can make jokes.

“You sound jealous.”

“Not quite, Princess.”

You don’t exactly glare at the reflection in the mirror, but you don’t exactly look at yourself lovingly. You get it. You understand it. Jeans and band tees couldn’t be your regular anymore. And you’re trying to keep a positive face, but dressing like a politician's wife is so boring! It makes you feel older than you actually are.

“I don’t know if I love that pant suit on her,” your eyes light up when you look at the man standing behind you. You know he’s not always going to be around. He’s busy trying to be the possible future president and all. But you also have missed him. “Katie, I think we can do something that doesn’t look quite so old, don’t you?”

“Of course, Mr. Rogers,” the red head says as she scurries away. You like Katie. But you don’t like her looking at your fiance the way she did.

“Did I overstep?”

“No, it was a horrid pant suit.”

“Horrid?” He laughs, and walks up behind you. Pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, “I expect that potty mouth to come out when we’re alone, but you don’t have to speak with a nearly British accent.”

“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Rogers?”

He gives your ass a pinch over the marm-ish pant suit, “Don’t call me that. It’s Steve, unless we’re alone.”

“And then you want me to give you doe eyes, Mr. President?”

“Yes, I do. Especially if you crawl on your knees towards me, like you did the other night. Who taught you how to put a condom on so sexily?” He really liked that gesture. So submission is a big thing for him. Good thing you enjoyed it as well.

You bite on your lip, starting to answer before Katie returns, “I brought some other samples, Mr. Rogers,” Steve gives her a nod, and walks over to a chair. He makes himself comfortable, and smiles at the two of you. Waiting for you to get undressed. “Mr. Rogers, you want to wait outside?”

“Not in particular. I have seen Miss Meadow in various forms of undress,” Steve winks towards you, and holds a finger over his mouth. Did he see Katie check him out, and know that you didn’t like it?

“Is there a reason you call Miss Landon, Meadow?” Steve shrugs. His brow cocks up when you bend over to remove the pants. “This isn’t the usual…”

“And I’m not going to be told what to do, Katie. My fiance and myself are very open with one another, and clearly she wants my input on the outfits. I won’t hear anything further about the matter, okay?” She gives him a curt nod, and turns towards you to help you dress.

Her movements are much quicker now that he’s here. Wanting you to cover yourself up before Steve can get a sneaky peek at the lingerie that he picked out specifically for your body. It’s nice. So were the others, but you weren’t particularly comfortable with trying on outfits in front of Katie with those on.

No, some of the lingerie that Bucky told you Steve picked them out himself are risqué to put it mildly. Cheeky bastard. He had an obsession with seeing you in lace.

“Mmm,” Steve groans, and Katie looks back at him. “I don’t like that. Katie, she’s not a near death First Lady. I know she needs to be demure, but we can do better, yeah?” Katie takes a deep calming breath before walking away again. “I won’t let anyone have you dress like my mother.”

“You sent her away to stare at me in my bra and panties,” turning around you stare at him head on, and he just shrugs. “So you admit it?”

“That I enjoy seeing the woman who gave me the best sleep of my life, the best orgasms of my life, and someone I find to be adorably cute while clothed with nothing on but some rather nice, expensive, and beautiful lingerie?” You roll your eyes, turning back around. His eyes immediately go to your ass, and you give him a little shimmy. “Yes, Princess, I do quite enjoy seeing you in lace. Are all the clothes she’s put you in so senior citizen?”

“Nope. I actually like a few of the blouses and slacks. It’s these pantsuits that she thinks I should wear. They’re not sexy.”

“No, but those panties are.”

“Steve! Be serious. Do I get a say in my wardrobe?” Steve nods his head. “I want to look well dressed of course, but still have a fun and sexy edge.”

“I concur. Wouldn’t you agree, Katie?” She only nods, handing over a pair of trousers with straighter legs. You pull them up your legs, and smile looking in the mirror. “Is that better, Princess?”

“So much better,” Katie hands over the shirt, and you smile even larger when it goes on, and then she helps you with the jacket. “Okay. Now, if I have to wear a pantsuit. This is what I like.”

“Great. Katie, I think with the few outfits that she has you can surely get together a rack to have brought here, right?” She nods. She’s much less talkative with Steve around and taking control. “Great. Also, there’s going to be a state dinner. Gather up some gowns for my fiance,” he looks you up and down as you change out of your worthy pant suit. “We should make it white.”

“White?”

“Yes. Lots of white in her color palette.”

“May I ask why?”

Steve slowly licks his lips as he watches you. As a stylist, she should know why. “To prepare the public for our upcoming…nuptials,” Steve tries to hide his snort to no avail and Katie looks at him quickly.

“By the way, why isn’t she wearing a ring?”

“It’s being sized. I was a terrible boyfriend, and didn’t know her size. Come on,” he wiggles a hand towards you, and you practically skip towards him, suited back in your jeans and t-shirt, “Katie, see to it that she has a wardrobe filled with clothes, and a rack of suitable white gowns.”

Steve leads you further down the hallway, and up a flight of stairs. His movements are too quick for your legs. He’s dragging you through this mansion before he stops at a landing, and his thick arms cage you to the wall, “I know that you have your own room, but say you’ll stay in mine tonight?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Just how big of a ring am I getting?”

“Oh, it’s like that?” You shrug. You honestly didn’t care how big of a ring you were getting. This ring didn’t actually mean anything. It’s not like he’s going to actually propose. And maybe it’s silly, but you should get something out of this besides sex. “The rings will be sent in the morning, and we can look at them. There’s some that are quite large and worth even more.”

“You’re from money?”

He clicks his tongue at you. Nothing condescending, his tone is playful, “You’re not supposed to ask about things like that. And not really. I’m what people call new money. My father became a very wealthy businessman, even though we were a bit under middle class until I was eight. I know this is a weird situation, and I want you to enjoy yourself and make the most of it. And I’m very grateful for you doing this.”

“I didn’t have too much of a choice though.”

“You did. I would have done what I could to protect your identity,” but reporters and people would constantly hound you, and call you awful names. You know the drill. You’ve had every thought imaginable, and where you’re at right now made the most sense. “We don’t have to have a business arrangement. When I take you out, I really want it to be a date and get to know you.”

“Really?” Something about that statement makes your heart sore. You love hearing him say that it’s not just an arrangement.

“Really. I’ve got to show you something,” he says, pulling you along the hallway.

He stops in front of a doorway, and you stare up at him shaking your head, “Bucky already showed me that this is your room, and just how to get here from my room.”

“Did he show you this?” He opens the door, and on the bed is the most delectable looking spread of different charcuterie boards.

“Did your mother ever tell you not to eat in bed?”

“We’ll eat in here, and sleep in your bed then.”

“But your bed is so much bigger!”

“Then hope in Cinderella before you turn into a pumpkin,” cheesy. And it’s cute, and it gets you. “I do have us some pajamas.”

“Matching pajamas!” They’re laid out on the bed as well. He’s so cute, “They’re not even sexy?”

“As much as I would like to sink into your body again, why don’t we dial it back tonight. You’ve had a very long day, and I feel like we’re doing things in reverse. We’ll watch a cheesy romcom, eat from these fancy boards, drink wine and champagne, talk in our not sexy pajamas, and actually get to know each other.”

He’s smooth. He’s very sexy, and he’s really cute. “This could really work, Steve?”

“I’d like for it to,” he agrees, starting to remove his clothes. “Don’t look at my ass with your wandering eyes. Because then I’m going to want to bend you over every surface of this mansion.”

“If you get elected can I suck your dick in the Oval Office?”

“Princess, if I get elected, I’m going to have you laid back on the desk, and I’m going to pump into you so deep and hard that your eyes will roll back into your skull, okay?”

“Is that a threat?” Hopefully he’s going to be fucking his seed into you. Nope. You didn’t say that. But then again, you’re protected now. He could.

“No, that is a promise. Now put on your unsexy matching pajamas with me, and let's eat dinner, shall we?” He pulls the shirt over his head, and starts backing up towards his bed. “I should warn you that I get hot when I sleep and usually wind up nude.”

“I should tell you I do the same thing,” he smirks, watching you get undressed. “And I should let you know that I get very horny in the middle of the night.”

“How convenient, so do I.”

“Maybe if you wake up horny, you should wake me up.”

“Maybe you should do the same. Now get in this bed, and so I can eat you. With you,” they say the slip of tongue is because it’s what you really want to do.

“Looks like we have a dessert board. You don’t need to eat me.”

“Don’t. Tempt. Me.”

“I’ll do that later,” the banter with Steve is still there. Thankfully it wasn’t a fluke, and you’re still having fun and being flirty with him.

“Get in the damn bed, and quit being cheeky. I’m trying to be a good man,” you’ll leave it be for now. Champagne makes you horny. Steve makes you horny. Him being sweet does something to you though. You’re not going to argue. You’re going to enjoy sitting on this bed, eating, drinking, and watching How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. But later, you will tease him. And you’ll get exactly what you want.

You flip over to your side, and snuggle more into Steve’s chest. He lets out a bit of a rumbled moan, but his eyes and soft snores continue. To say that tonight was unexpected would be somewhat untrue. You knew the moment you met Steve that you had this cute connection.

He just understands your humor. Who he is with you, and who he is for the world are different. Not vastly different, but more raw with you. You understand why he has to change for the world. But it’s special that he reserves a very special playful spot for you.

A place for you and him to shamelessly flirt and cut up. You learned so much useless information about him. His favorite color is blue, but he’s cheesy and likes to say it is red, white, and blue. His favorite song is Welcome to the Jungle, but his campaign song is Eye of the Tiger. He was extra cute when you couldn’t stop laughing at him. His cheeks got all rosy, and he’d bashfully look away from you.

People didn’t see this shy guy. No, they see this powerful man of all men that commands a room. And maybe one day the country. It’s a daunting thought. That in some way, just being his fiance, campaign friend, whatever, you’re part of American history. There will be pictures of you everywhere.

You look back at Steve, and run your finger down his nose. He’s cute when he sleeps. The pants and shirt of his pajamas were thrown into the floor, and you only wear the top and panties now. As new as the two of you are, you like him. It’s too soon to say you like like him. Like him enough to claim him as your fiance.

What the fuck did you get yourself into? Playing the fiance of the future president, and possibly soon would have to be the wife of him. How far was this going to go? Or could it transpire into something really real? That’s what you hope. You hope that you like him enough to not just make it work, but give it a real go at it.

“You’re staring at me,” Steve grumbles out, but his eyes don’t open. Thankfully he’s pulling you out of your thoughts.

“No, I’m not.”

One eye opens, and he peers at you. His mouth quirks up. You don’t even try to look away. “Tell me that lie again, Princess.”

“You know I’m staring at you.”

“You like what you see?”

“What’s not to like about this sexy almost naked man that’s in the bed with me?” He closes his eyes again, stretching out a bit more. His hand moves over your body, and his fingers tickle over your skin. “Does America know that you have an eagle tattooed on your titty?”

“No,” Steve keeps his answer short and sweet. “You know, you did promise me that you wake up horny. So if you don’t want to talk some more, I have a place you can sit.”

“Oh, you do?” He nods his head, smiling with his eyes still closed. “Should I tell you that I passed my test?”

“What test?”

“My STD test. I’m all clean.”

”That’s amazing, honey,” his voice is almost mocking. The both of you knew you’d pass that test. It’s comforting to know he believed and trusted you with that.

“And, I have this thing clamped onto my cervix that prevents me from spawning any of your children too early,” both his eyes fully fly open. “Got your attention.”

“You just offered yourself up on a platter for me,” your head leans back, and you start chuckling so hard. As smooth as he can be, he’s honestly a giant dork sometimes. “What?”

“Why yes, Mr. President, I am letting you know that I am free and clear of anything that could harm you, and I am safe from making the babies,” he looks just like a little boy as he smiles at you. Reaching towards your body, he pulls you over to him. Coaxing you to straddle him.

Reaching between your legs, you grip the base of his cock, pulling aside your panties as you lower slowly onto him. Remembering his aching stretch that he gives you as you sink lower and lower. “And Steve?”

“Hmm,” he answers breathlessly, pulling at your shirt. You wonder exactly when he pulled his briefs down to free himself, but you’ll ask about that later.

“This may not be the most traditional of relationships, but I won’t have you fucking other women. I will give you the respect of only being with you, and I expect the same from you. Whether people are watching or not. You’re my fiance.”

“Possessive?”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation. You haven’t moved over his body. You’re just impaled by his cock, and resting on your knees. “I am yours, and you are mine. Understood?”

“I think so,” your hands shoot forward quickly, and you snatch up his nipples. Giving them a squeeze, you twist. “Ow!”

“There’s no thinking, Steven. I think we have a real chance. We’re stuck in this situation, but I want you to act as if we’re dating, because that is how I’m treating this. Publicly we’re engaged. In this bedroom, you’re my boyfriend. Understood?”

“Yes, Princess Grace, I understand,” releasing his nipples, you press your hands on his chest instead. Giving yourself the leverage you need to move over top of him. “So I can tell Bucky we’re dating?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“He likes you, you know.”

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Stop talking about Bucky when I’m fucking you,” he gives you a head nod, and starts pulling at your shirt again. Getting it fully off your body when he looks down at the panties. “What?”

“You’re a pro at moving them to the side, but can I suggest a new rule?”

“What’s that?”

“No more panties in the bedroom,” seems fair enough. He reaches to your hips, and rips the brand new pretty lingerie at both sides before sliding it between your legs. Freeing you completely of clothes while he gazes at you. “You really are pretty. So we’re giving this a real go?”

“Mhmm,” you respond. You maneuver your body to a squatting position, and bounce over him. Moving on top of him like you own him. And this part of him, you do. He is yours. You are his. You’re going to date this fine, funny, geeky, adorable man. You’re going to ignore the world around you when you’re alone with him.

You’re going to act every bit the part of his First Lady. You’re going to hold your head up high, wear the right clothes, smile at the appropriate times, talk with the people on your team to get your speaking points right, you’re going to be what he needs you to be for the world.

But in this bedroom, you’re going to control him, and let him control you. You’re going to let your walls drop, and open up with him. You’re going to forget about everything in the past, and all the shitty boyfriends you had, and just be with him. He is worth it. And you are worth it. The two of you are definitely worth it.

You’ve never connected to a human quite like you did with him. You’ve never been so comfortable in the first meeting. Never wanted to lick the sweat off a man’s chest, and yes, crawl across the floor to some man before. You’ve never thought about doing what you’re doing right now, and all for some man. And his dick.

“My god, you’re amazing, Princess,” he groans below you. Fingers tightening on your hips. He’ll leave a bruise, but those bruises will remind you what you have when you’re not in front of people. Having him on your hip, while he’s the ever present gentleman to the world. They’ll never know just how nasty this man can be. Or how cute he is right before he starts to come.

It’s late. Tomorrow is an even longer day than today, and you haven’t made your official public appearance by his side. Just the secret paparazzi photos, and the few today. Nothing of the two of you together, or how he’s going to swing things to make the public love you, and trust him again.

You move so quickly over his body, you see him tense up in his chest. He’s so pretty when he holds off an orgasm just for you. “Steve, let go.”

“You haven’t come.”

“I’m right there. Let me feel your warmth, and I’ll meet you on the other side,” there’s something about your raspy voice that has his body soaring. Unable to hold anything off any longer. His entire body seizes, and his mouth makes the most perfect ‘O’, and his eyes clench close.

His cum shoots into your womb, and you swear you feel like you're flying as the most beautiful orgasm overcomes your body. Your velvety walls flutter around him, and milk every drop from his dick, and your body relaxes as your heaving chest presses up against his. “I can get used to that, Mr. President.”

“Is it a bad time to give you the ring I picked out?”

“Huh?” Bonelessly you sit up and stare at him confused. “What did you say?”

“You can pick whatever you like, but I did pick out a ring for you. I don’t want to propose. It seems informal.”

“Steve,” you gulp, and he turns to look at you. How do you tell the man that you’d prefer the ring he wants to give to you only be if he really wants to push this to a legal and binding marriage? Something directly coming from him should mean something.

“Okay,” he responds, kissing on your forehead. “I think I get it. I’ll save it for another time. We’ll pick one out together tomorrow, yeah?”

“Thanks,” it’s not that you don’t want to receive it from him. But you want it to mean something when it’s from him. He took the time to pick out a ring he wanted to see on your finger. That’s special.

“Get some sleep, Princess. We’re only just beginning,” and didn’t you know it.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @rnurse-kole @buckysteveloki-me @peaches1958

@seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings

@kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @kmm-fluv @distractingbeth @buckybarnesisdaddy

@musingsfromthemitten @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @elaramae @blackchickinthedesert @hisredheadedgoddess28

@otterlycanadian @mima116 @mycrimsonsparrow @loverofthedilfs

[justmeinadaze]

Calling All Cars (Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: Have I not slept yet, no. Did my managers change my schedule AGAIN from 2 -11 to 8-5, they did indeed. So Ive been living in this angsty universe. Please enjoy and please ignore any typos.

Warnings: Toxic Vampire Steddie & Human Fem Plus Size Y/N, SMUT, edging, dirty talk, spanking (light), humiliation (they refer to her as a toy and a whore), aftercare

ANGST (because obviously), more details of the boys time in the lab is mentioned (them being forced to be in sunlight, gaslit, and them rebelling by killing some guards), they do gaslit Y/N, she does smack Stevie a few times, they constantly refer to her as something they use, she does have an interaction with her parents, cliffhanger ending.

Yeah, they are bad toxic boys but they do have feelings.

Word Count: 5209

Series Here/ Donate to Me

"Calling all cars, we've got another victim 'Cause my love has become an affliction What did you expect from me? What did you expect from me?

I am not the one that you should blame Take what I left you for the pain And do your best to forget my name."

Eddie lit the end of his cigarette as he leaned back against Steve’s headboard, glancing down at your naked frame that was being obscured by the other boy’s sheets before offering you a puff that you eagerly take. 

It had been three months since you found out what happened to the guys and how your parents were involved. You purposely avoided your house as much as you could spending most of your time with either one of them. 

Your friends were very concerned as everything about you had gradually changed; your clothes, your hair, your kind demeanor. 

“Y/N, stop!”, your best friend screamed at you as you walked down the empty hallway after school. 

“What?! What do you want, Mandy!?”

“I want my best friend back! What happened after you left that party, Y/N? Garrett drove you home—”

“No, he didn’t! I don’t know how many times I can say it till you fucking understand. The police believe me.”

“No, they didn’t find any evidence! Just a car and a body of the boy I know I saw you leave with. Add in the fact that he had a crush on you and you’ve been spending way more time with Edward Munson—”

“Oh my god.”, you sigh as you roll your eyes. “So what!? I’m hanging out with Eddie Munson AND Steve Harrington but let’s focus on the boy this town hunted for like they were a posse in a western movie!”

“Y/N, three people died and he almost did to after they found him. SOMETHING happened.”

Smirking, you stalked gradually towards her till you were mere inches from her face. 

“Maybe that turns me on about him. The fact that he’s capable of hurting anyone who hurts me…like a friend who keeps butting her nose in my business when she knows NOTHING.”

“Y/N, please… Just tell me what’s going on.”

You heavily exhale as you shake your head and disappear down the hallway. 

“Why doesn’t the nicotine hurt you?”, you ask as you pass it back to him. “I mean it’s entering your body, right?”

Eddie shrugs as he inhales and flicks the ash in the nearby ashtray. 

“Maybe because I’m not exactly ingesting it. Thankfully for everyone I can smoke because if I couldn’t…oh boy.” You giggle at his joke and he tosses a smile towards Steve who smirks at the sound as he continues to read through your parent’s files that they stole. 

As the time passed, they were able to collect more tangible information now that they knew what they were looking for. Judging by the constant grunts of anger, you imagined they weren’t finding much. 

“Harrington, I don’t think I saw you read this much in school.”

“Yeah, well, this is something I find interesting so…”

“What’s this one? ‘Today subject B snored in his coma?’” The metalhead chuckled but your sad exhale had his head whipping in your direction. “What?”

“Will you ever tell me what happened? What put you in that coma and gave you these?”, you ask as the pad of your finger traced the scar on his chest.

Both men would never tell you but they loved the way you touched them. 

They had spent months being tortured and tossed around, not just by doctors and scientists but Vecna and the bats when they went into the upside down to fight him. 

Even after they were done being rough with you, you would wrap your arms around their waist and caress their skin till you fell asleep. Steve would feel your nails run through the hair on his chest and his eyes would close as he absorbed the brief feeling of what a normal relationship would be like. 

Eddie would wake up with the strong need for a cigarette before it was replaced with the desire to not disturb your sleeping form as your nose nuzzled into his shoulder behind him and you pulled him closer to your body. 

“You don’t want to hear about that, sweetheart.”, he exhaled as he caught your hand and kissed the back of it. 

“I want to hear everything.”, you mumble.

“Oh?”, the former jock asked as he turned in the chair at his desk to face you both and began to read in a high pitch voice. “’Spoke with Edward Munson today after the much anticipated sunlight test. He and Steven Harrington were allowed outside today for an hour. After 35 minutes their skin began to ‘burn’ (their words). When the hour ended both were red and their flesh began to decay as if they were third degree burns. Dr. Y/L/N said they seemed delusional and Edward begged ‘for his father to stop hurting him’. Healed after fifteen minutes and a blood iv drip—”

Eddie growled beside you as his angry eyes bore into his friend but as if challenged Steve continued. 

“’I asked him why he said that and he said he didn’t remember but documentation from Hawkin’s Police records shows a history of violence—'”

The metalhead swished towards him, tackling him out of the chair and onto the floor. 

“Come on, Munson, is that all you got!”, the pretty boy chuckles as they begin to wrestle. 

“Why do you have to read my reports?! Read your own personal shit!”

“I don’t know if you heard me but that involved us both, asshole! They locked me outside to in the sun, remember?! I was right there beside you fucking banging on that door trying to bust it down! Screaming for anyone to help us! Of course, they didn’t care. Didn’t even bother to tell us any of their fucking names.”

“’Tests were initiated today on their strength and tempers. Steven Harrington was the hardest to break.’”, you read aloud from his desk chair causing them both to pull apart. “’When his parents were mentioned, little reaction took place. Brought up Dustin Henderson and his blood pressure spiked but no physical reaction. It wasn’t until a woman by the name of Robin Buckley was mentioned. One of the doctors spoke of collecting her to bring her in and Mr. Harrington broke his restraints until he was subdued by security.’”

Steve slowly rose to his feet and sauntered your way, his eyes locked on you as you kept reading. 

“’Neither man appear to have any romantic interests contrary to ‘rumors’ of Miss Wheeler. Pressure points for them seem to be Robin Buckley and Wayne Munson. Documenting for future use should anything happen to me.’”

Bending down to find your eyeline, he places his palms on his knees as he searches your features. 

“And who is the ‘me’ in that sentence?” Blinking back tears, you swallow the pain you’d been avoiding these past few months. “Answer me.”

“My mom.”

“That’s right.”

“May I ask you something?” Neither man responds as they continue to glare your way. “You…you didn’t seek me out to get back at them, did you?”

“If memory serves, sweetheart, YOU came up to ME.”, Eddie answers as he slides on some shorts and bounces back into the bed. 

“And I warned you to stay away from us.”

When all you do is nod, Steve abruptly lifts you into his arms making you smile as he tosses you beside his friend and climbs in beside you.

“I, um, I like you a lot…both of you…”

Both men exchange a glance as you cuddle up further into the pretty boys cool but comfortable chest. The metalhead heavily exhales and his friend watches as he curls up behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he holds you to him, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder. 

####################

“Y/N, sweetie?” Your head shoots up from your sketchbook at the sound of your teacher’s soft voice. “They need you at the front office. Someone’s here to see you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, honey.”, she sighs as she holds up the pass that was handed to her with emphasis. 

As you glance across the room towards Eddie, even he seems more alert at the announcement as his head tilts but as you begin to collect your things, you briefly hear him scribble something down on a piece of paper. 

You don’t know what possess you to do it, maybe intuition or the new found connection you have with these boys but as you absently reach for one of your books, you knock it to the floor allowing the notes within to scatter with it. 

The long-haired boy doesn’t hesitate as he quickly kneels down to help you collect your things and out of the corner of your eye, you see him slide the paper he wrote on into the front cover. 

“Thank you.”, you mumble as he firmly nods and watches you take the pass before disappearing out the door. 

Pausing in the hallway, you flip his note open and panic subtly flows through you as you read, “Don’t fight him. Go where he asks. You aren’t alone.” 

“Hey, baby.” At the sound of the man’s voice, you head snaps towards the office as you come face to face with your father. “I think we need to talk.”

***

Your hands shake in your lap in the back of the SUV but you try to hid it as you hold them together. To your surprise, your dad brings you back to your house and opens the back door for you so you can follow him inside. 

Your mom is pacing in the living room but she stops when she sees your face and runs to give you a hug. 

“Y/N, we missed you so much! We’re so glad you’re ok.”

Her tone and smile fall when you don’t reciprocate and she slowly backs away as your father gestures towards a chair for you to take a seat. 

“I’m not going to beat around the bush, Y/N, and for this to go as smoothly as possible I want clear, concise answers. Am I being understood?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “How much do you know?”

“About Project Sunlight?”, you murmur with contempt. “I know you tortured them and mom gaslit them. I know I was a subject at one point.”

“No, baby, you were—”

“Don’t you dare lie to me! I read dad’s notes from when I was in the hospital!”

“Were we cautious, yes. Were you a subject, no.”, your father responds before his wife can as she starts to lean forward to object. “Would you like to be?”

His callous wording has you blinking back shock as you lean back in your chair. 

“Y/N, you have no idea what Edward Munson and Steven Harrington are capable of but I can show you.”

Sliding out of your way, he pushes play with the remote in his hand and both their sullen faces fill the screen of the tv. They appeared incredibly thin but still had some color in their faces as their eyes stared into the void while sitting in what appeared to be a large white empty room. 

“Can we get this over with please?! I’m really fucking tired…and I need a smoke.”, Eddie grumbles. 

“Shhh… do you hear that?”, Steve whispers as he gets to his feet and heads towards the locked door. 

“I’m bringing in anyone who was in the other world so we can run tests on them. Steven and Edward may have been bitten but who knows what else could have been in that place that contaminated the others.”

“I understand, sir. Names of the subjects?”

“Will Byers, Dustin Henderson—”

“No…”

“What?”, Eddie asked as he watched his friend start to panic and pull on the handles in front of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckl—”

“NO! DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH THEM!”

The metalhead’s eyes widen in fear as he watches the former jock try to rip the door off its hinges but fails. 

“Wayne Munson did come into contact with the gate in his trailer. That’s in the paperwork here. Should we grab him to or?”

Eddie began scrambling around the room while Steve searched for something that would get them out so they could get to their friends and family. The camera angle changes to the corner of the room as both men suddenly stop moving and their heads tilt towards a mirror against the wall. 

Their eyes become that black you’ve seen before and you watch in horror as they fly forward, effortlessly crashing through to attack the men on the other side. Camera shots constantly changed to different gun angles as they tried to rein in the beings as they flew and tore people apart with magnificent strength. 

Abruptly, you and them were blinded by a bright light as they screamed and fell to the floor as the tape ended.

“Don’t you see, Y/N? We HAD to run all those experiments on them to see what we were dealing with and we were terrified by what we saw. Thankfully your mom’s therapy techniques have kept them from hurting anyone else. We told them this here…” He gestures towards the tv. “…was a rouge outfit and thanked them for saving us. We NEED them to keep believing we are on their side.”

“You…you tortured them…why didn’t you just help them?”

“We tried, baby, we really did.”, you mother replies. “After a while we realized there was no cure for what they were.”

“But we are still learning everything about them. Apparently, they can heal wounds on other people. They can feed without changing the human they are directly feeding from—”

“You’ve been watching me with them…”

“At first, no. I had an inclination after your wound on your neck healed in the hospital. When you didn’t come back home, we sent agents to find you. For the last three months they’ve been keeping an eye on you.”

“Why them and not you?”, you snap. “Too afraid to face the truth?”

“What’s the truth, Y/N? What are you to them?”

“A meal.”, your dad answers your mom’s question. “That’s all you are to them.”

“No. They care about me and I care about them.”

“All they care about is themselves and blood. They will die without it, Y/N. Why do you think everyone else abandoned them? They are not the same boys from before especially Edward Munson. When he died, he came back stronger and from what we can tell his senses are more in tune than Steven’s.”

“If you’ve been watching me for so long then why are you talking to me now?”

“We…we know you’ve become romantically involved. We want you to help us find out more information that we’d never be able to get.”

“Wow.”, you laugh as you rise to your feet. “After everything you just told me and everything I’ve seen about what you two did to them…you really think I’d help you?”

“Y/N, please, you can save so many lives—”

“You could have just asked us directly.” At the sound of Eddie’s voice, you jumped as your mom stood up and placed herself beside her husband. “Mr. Y/L/N…Mrs. Y/L/N…or should I say doctors?”

“Edward. Steven. You both have changed.”

“Oh, yeah, we aren’t fucking dying anymore.”, the pretty boy practically hissed. “And thanks to this little exchange here now we know that was always the plan. Do you even know how long we would have suffered before we wasted away?”

Your father shakes his head making them both snicker. 

“Thankfully a little angel entered our world and we have absolutely enjoyed corrupting her. The fact that she’s your daughter is just an added bonus really.”

“I thought you said—”, you began before the metalhead cut you off.

“We said we didn’t pursue you but that doesn’t change the fact that part of what gets us off is that we are making the daughter of the man and woman who made our lives hell scream while we fucking use her.”, Eddie replies flatly. “Fuck…I’m getting hard right now thinking about you having to hear feedback from your subordinates about how she moaned our names and how uncomfortable that must have made you.

About as uncomfortable as being force-fed things that make you sick.”

“Or being manipulated to believe you were going to hurt the people we cared about.”, Steve added. 

Your palm to his face startled everyone in the room as you slapped him hard with every ounce of energy you could muster. 

“You don’t care about fucking anybody! Neither of you do!”

The growl that rumbled from them had your mom starting to step forward to protect you but your father held her back. 

Eddie grinned devilishly as he shook his head and held up his index finger. 

“Excuse me. We need to have a talk with our toy. It seems she forgot her place.”

With that, he wraps his arms around you, protecting your body as he crashes through the window and flies into the sky with Steve in tow.

###############

The metalhead lands in a field of tall grass and you stumble out of his grasp on to the ground. Gathering your faculties, you run in what you perceive to be no particular direction, finding a seemingly empty trailer and running inside. 

There’s a strong smell of dampness you can’t identify but as you glance towards the ceiling, you see a big hole that is pitch black within. You half expect to see the night sky but when you place yourself under it all you see are vague remnants of a carpet that looks like the one currently under your feet clouded by a darkness that frightens you. 

Backing away, you fall into a chair and as you hastily stand back up a framed photo catches your eyes. 

A small boy with long hair is in an older man’s arms as he lifts him towards the camera and they both laugh. There’s another picture beside of it of a woman holding that same small child to her chest as she kisses his forehead. 

Intrigued, you wonder to the kitchen and find some loose papers on the counter. Flipping it over, a picture of Eddie glared back with his description underneath and above read “Missing Person.”

You wondered further towards the back of the trailer and your jaw dropped slightly as you took in the metalhead’s former room. The door behind you slammed shut making you jump as the man himself folded his arms. 

“I think some of the lines in our relationship have been blurred, Y/N. You belong to us. That’s it. That’s all you are. A belonging.”

“And belongings don’t hit.”, Steve growled as he forcefully pushed you onto the bed. 

“That’s all I am? That’s all I’ll ever be? So when I said I like you both—”

“I don’t know what you expected, little girl. We told you in the beginning that you were our untapped resource.”

“Why? Why are you like this?! Where is this man?!”, you plead as you hold up his flyer. “Or the man I drew who used to work at Scoops Ahoy who made his best friend laugh?!

“That man is dead, Y/N. He was bitten, torn apart, and then some doctors got ahold of him.”, Eddie hissed as he grabbed the paper and tore it up.

“I don’t think you understand how much your parents and those other doctors destroyed us.”, Steve followed. “I didn’t die like he did but after saving this fucking town I came back to torture…literally!”

“But…but that wasn’t…I’ve been nothing but nice to you…I thought—”

The pretty boy’s hand around your throat cut you off. 

“You thought wrong. What? Did you think we would fall in love and run off into the fucking sunset together? Get married and have little babies who snack on their pathetic mother?”

Your heart breaks at his words and they see it as you hunch over and cover your eyes. 

“I’m so fucking stupid.”, you murmur before facing them with a look they had never seen from you. “Why…why did you even bother!? You should have just left me alone! I have lost everything because of you!!”

“No, you lost everyone because of you and the choices you made. YOU saved Eddie. YOU came to the store. YOU stayed with us after you found out about mommy and daddy. There wasn’t even a doubt in your mind.”

“I trusted you and what you showed me…”

“Yeah, well, trusting us was your mistake, baby, not ours.”, the metalhead sighs as if annoyed. 

Something in your energy changes as you rise from the bed and square your shoulders. 

“Your right. I will never make that mistake again.” As you start to walk towards the bedroom door Steve grabs your wrist to pull you back and in return you slap him again. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Where do you think your going?”, he growled. 

“Home. My parents may be despicable people but that’s nothing compared to you two and at least there they can keep me safe.”

He tugs you roughly closer to his chest as Eddie steps closer to your sides. 

“There’s nowhere you could go, little girl, where we can’t find you.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh? Yet you need to be ‘safe’ from us?”

“Fuck you. Does Robin Buckley know the kind of man you’ve become? What about Wayne Munson? Do they know the monsters you are?”

Steve walks you backwards till your back hits the wall and even then he presses himself against you till your sandwiched between. 

“You want to see a monster, Y/N? Say her name again.”

Your body shutters slightly at the drop in his voice as his irises burn into your eyes. His chest rose and fell, pushing against yours as the wind from his nose moved your hair every time he breathed. 

It was incredibly subtle; the bulge in his jean lightly touching you. 

He was getting off on this; your defiance. 

“So…that’s a no…on Robin?”

In one swift action, the former jock grabbed your hair and spun you around, slamming your front half aggressively against the wall. Lifting your skirt, his palm came down hard on your behind causing you to jump and whine.

“We are going to fucking ruin you tonight, you little brat, and when we’re finished you’ll never forget your place again.”

His palm hit you a couple more times in quick succession before he yanked on your hair to guide you back to the bed and push you down on all fours. After ripping off your panties, you felt the wind behind you of Steve ducking down, moaning loudly when his tongue licked through your folds. 

“You’re so ungrateful, Y/N. After everything we do for you...”, Eddie growled, throwing his body in front of you as he stroked his cock. “You still forget your place… you’re still…disrespectful…”

You whimpered when the man behind you pulled away and it wouldn’t be the last time that night they left you wanting. Both men used you for what felt like hours, building you up till you were right at the edge before pulling away. 

The metalhead was top of you now, pumping his cock deep inside you with his head beside your own till he felt your pussy begin to quiver and he abruptly stopped moving. All three of you were sweaty and panting as Steve folded his fingers against his forehead. 

“Please…”, you beg, desperate.

“Who do belong to?”

“You and Steve.”

“That’s right. You’re our little whore.” As he spoke, Eddie began thrusting into you again as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Say it.”

“I’m…I’m your little…little whore.”

“Yeah, you are…Fuck, baby…ours…”, he moaned, not slowing down. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to crash into you as you screamed his name and he mewled as you lightly tugged his hair. His lips crashed to your own only for a moment as he struggled to keep them connected, his face scrunching in pleasure as he hastily pulled out and rapidly stroked his cock till his release hit tummy. 

“You didn’t—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I am.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes as he climbs off you and is quickly replaced by Steve who collects you in his arms, falling back first against the headboard while adjusting your body to straddle his lap. Taking a hold of his shaft, you slowly sink down onto him eliciting a sexy groan from him as you gradually move your hips. 

Your hands cling to his shoulders as his lips attach to your nipple and you can’t help but squeak when one of his fangs drags lightly along the bud. 

“That was for fucking hitting me…even though your pussy is telling me—shit—you liked that. Did you, baby?”

“Yes, I liked it.”

“See? We take care of you to.”, he whispers as he meets each one of your bounces with a thrust of his own. “We take care of our things.”

Eddie’s head tilted as your eyes opened at his friend’s words and you hugged his head to your body as he bit into your neck. Your fingers lingered in his sweat soaked hair just as you had down with the metalhead but your bottom lip trembled as you tried to control the tears. 

“Like you said, Y/N…Monsters.”

Your eyes closed again as the other boy’s palms gripped your ass, guiding you as his mouth released you, licking your wound, and resting his head against your chest as you held him. You trembled as you came and Steve grunted at the feeling. 

“Goddamn it…off, off, off!”, he urged and you slid back to watch him pump his cock roughly till his seed erupted on to his hand and thigh. “Fuck.”

As the metalhead handed the pretty boy a napkin, Steve raised his eyebrows in annoyance. 

“The water doesn’t work here, remember? No one has lived here in like a year.”

“We could go to the lake. It’s not far from here, right?”

As they spoke, you had tried to suffocate the tears that escape as you reached for a tissue by his bed and cleaned yourself. Something cold tapped your arm and you turned to see Eddie handing you your clothes. 

You stared at them as if they were a foreign object and again, he tried to push them towards you. Fury filled you as you took the items, tossed them to the ground, and stomped them with your bare feet as you screamed at the wall. When you finally stopped, they both redressed you themselves as you stood there and allowed it. 

Your sad eyes took in the room around you; absorbing all the band posters and D&D campaign memorabilia. By his bed were cassette tapes of bands you very much knew, having listened to them yourself. There was what appeared to be a fantasy book half read along with some more photos that you picked up to examine. 

Softly chuckling, you hold up a picture of him with a group of people wearing the same Hellfire shirt as he held up the rock & roll symbol with his tongue sticking out. 

“Some days…after school…I could hear you guys yelling and laughing in the theater room…You sounded so…happy.” Your voice cracked on your last word before tossing the images back where you found them. “Do you care about me at all? Even a little?”

Eddie’s chest heaved as he exhaled and stepped towards you to gently kiss your forehead. 

“No.”

You nodded but your knees betrayed you as they buckled as Steve quickly caught you and pressed you to his chest. 

 “Y/N…” You heard it through your pain, a particular tone from him you had been hearing more and more as you got more comfortable together. “Don’t trust your parents… anyone who works for that lab isn’t someone you should trust. They made us…who we are.”

Your head shakes adamantly.

“No. You are the way you are because of yourself. I know those men are still in there.”

“Maybe…or maybe this is who we were always meant to be.”

At the long-haired boy’s words, you start to sob and they both hold you tightly to them until they fall asleep. 

As the Hawkins sun begins to rise, you give them one last cursory glance before grabbing your shoes and running out the trailer door. 

###############

“You’re safe here, Y/N, I promise.”, your mom assures as she slides your suitcase and backpack into your new room at the “safehouse” they sped to after you arrived at their front door. “We’ve always had ‘get away’ packs ready just in case and this house is ‘clean’ so they shouldn’t be able to smell us. I’m not even sure they can do that but—”

“Yes, you are. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Sighing, she takes a step towards you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder giving you pause. 

“I know you’re angry with me, baby, and you have every right to be but no matter what I’m still your mom and I’m still here for you. Your father and I love you very much.”

“Thank you, mom.”, you whimper as you take a seat on the bed and pull out the sketchbook from your backpack. Flipping through the pages, your heart cracks in half as their images you drew fly past. 

Anger and pain fills you as you begin ripping out pages and tearing them in half before tossing them across the room. 

“I don’t know about this, honey.”, your mom whispers as she closes her and her husband’s bedroom door and walks over to the desk where he was watching you break down from his laptop monitor that was connected to the many cameras around the house including your room. “She doesn’t seem like them. I mean she came to us in the day time for Christs sake…on FOOT! Those boys couldn’t even handle 30min.”

“Yeah but we won’t know that unless we keep an eye out.”, he replies absently as he continues taking notes before your mother walks over and shuts the laptop closed. “Look, we don’t have any data on what happens when they take blood from a human. We also don’t know how intimacy works, for example, can they get her pregnant? Can they—”

“Ok, ok! I don’t even want to think about that.”

“There’s also a lot of information she can give us. We just have to get her to trust us again.” You father watches as your mom’s head hangs and she takes a seat on the mattress with her arms folded across her chest. “Sweetheart…”, he sighs as he wheels his chair in front of her and grabs her palms. “I know how you feel. We never wanted her to experience any of Hawkins craziness but it is what it is…now we just have to find out what we can to protect her and the rest of the world.”

“Even if that mean doing to her what we did to them?”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that…”

“But if it does?”

Your father tenderly kisses the back of her hands before tugging her onto his lap. 

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there.”

##################

@debkk16 @myherometalhead @veemoon @hardladyheart @moonlightseranade @iloveyou987123 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ollieolive @localemofreak @munsonmoonshine86 @twirls827 @munsongirl48

Some other people commented but I can't tag y'all! I tried!

[gothamite-rambler]

Catwoman’s reaction meeting the first Robin

I think we can all agree that while the first Robin proved himself as a hero, especially when he became Nightwing—people still find it a bit odd. This goes double for Gotham's rogues, who used to deal with a man in a batsuit. Sure, Robin can fight and be awesome—I'm not taking that away from Dick Grayson’s Robin—but let's be real: he definitely gives off that “aww!” vibe. I mean, who wouldn’t question why Batman has a child sidekick dressed like that? Bruce did try to keep Dick from being a sidekick, and in some canons, they even begged him to wear pants! But it’s still a bit strange.

To our story…

Catwoman stared at the young boy clad in brightly colored spandex, swaying back and forth with curiosity and bemusement. The warm smile on his face drew Selina’s attention, prompting her to lift her goggles for a better look.

Catwoman: Now… this is… hm. Yeah, that’s all I can say to this.

Her confused stare quickly shifted to Batman, whose weary expression indicated he had anticipated her reaction since it was the fifth one this month.

Catwoman: I owe like five villains twenty bucks each.

Robin (waving): Hi!

Catwoman smiled and waved back at the child sidekick, but the high-pitched tone of his voice confirmed her suspicion as she pointed at him.

Catwoman (pointing at Robin): That’s a… he’s a child.

Batman: He’s my sidekick.

Catwoman (her seductive voice dropping to concern): Your sidekick is a child. All you did was confirm he’s a child!

Batman: It should not matter.

Catwoman: Did you… sweet Jesus, did you kidnap him?

Batman: No! Tell her no.

Robin looked around, grinning, weighing whether to confirm or deny the accusation of his father. He tilted his head, awaiting Batman’s reaction.

Batman (thinking): Don't shout; he’s just a kid.

Batman (relenting): I’ll buy you the stupid toy!

Robin (smiling): He’s my dad and has raised me well.

Catwoman (trying to process this): Great, fantastic... he just said “dad.” He’s your kid!

Batman (hesitating): Ye- Yes.

Catwoman: Why are you babysitting at a time like this? While I’m somewhat mentally stable and wouldn’t hurt a child, don’t you deal with psychos like the Joker?

Batman: That doesn’t mean anything. Can people stop focusing on the fact I have a nine-year-old sidekick?

Catwoman (shocked): He’s nine?!

Batman (regretfully): In hindsight, I realize that wasn’t the best defense.

Robin (in an adorable voice): My birthday was a few months ago! I’m Robin, and I can do flips and tricks! I promise I won't hurt you too bad, ma'am.

Catwoman dropped her whip and clasped her hands together, admiring the adorable young sidekick with rosy red cheeks and a bright smile. Robin waved at her again, still confused.

Catwoman: Maybe it’s because I’ve been going through baby fever, or maybe it’s just how cute he looks in that little hero suit, but he’s not a mean little gremlin... he’s so precious!

Batman (his fatherly instincts kicking in): You aren’t raising him.

Robin stuck his tongue out at Batman, who shook his head in annoyance. Catwoman’s smile widened.

Catwoman: He’s not afraid of you, either. At least I hope so. Why you’ve got such a precious little child concerns me… but just look at him! Look at him in that suit.

Batman looked at Robin, then back at Catwoman, realizing this was worse than he had anticipated. She was about to hug him!

Robin (blushing, holding his head down): Huh? Aww, thank you!

Catwoman rushed over, scooping Robin up and spinning him around gleefully. Batman stood aside, perplexed and frustrated.

Catwoman (cooing): I can’t believe how adorable this possibly kidnapped child is! Do you know how cute you are, little one?

She held Robin in front of her, and he smiled with his eyes closed, soaking up the affection. Catwoman planted a kiss on his cheek before gently placing him back on the ground.

Robin stood there, looking like he’d rather not continue the fight. He usually didn’t enjoy being treated like a child while crime-fighting, but Catwoman felt different.

Robin: Batman, let her go. She’s sweet.

Batman: I should’ve waited until you turned thirteen; you’d be edgy and not adorable.

Catwoman: You stay here, Robin. I’m going to have a word with Batman… privately.

Batman (exasperated): Not again.

Robin (staying put): Okay! I’ll stand here and keep watch.

Catwoman walked over to Batman, gripping his arm and pulling him a good distance from Robin.

Catwoman: I’ve enjoyed our game of cat and bat, but why? Why a child? Why the costume? If you’re a child abuser, I won’t hesitate to—

Batman (offended): No! No! You are not finishing that statement. He is my son and I take good care of him. He wanted to be Robin; he picked the suit! He’s built for this! AND I AM NOT A CHILD ABUSER!

Catwoman rolled her eyes, leaning to the side to glance back at Robin, who waved eagerly.

Catwoman: Is he telling the truth?

Robin: Yeah, I really wanted this job! I had to beg him!

Catwoman (glaring at Batman): This is still off-putting to me, and that’s saying a lot. I’m in league with other villains, but those are bad guys like me you're supposed to be some type of hero. Although most heroes don't go for wearing a bat themed suit. There's this guy called Green Arrow who-

Batman: Don't speak his name into this conversation! This is different. I—lo—care about him.

Catwoman (suspicious): Hmm, I heard you had a child sidekick, but I thought it was a rumor or that you had a little person, not an actual child who can fight.

Batman: Why do you people keep ignoring the fact that he he can fight! I’m not using him for target practice or letting him be a punching bag, like half the villains claim! He's taken down half of them, so of course they’d lie about him being an innocent baby.

Robin (hopping up and down): I bit the Joker three times so far!

Catwoman: Okay, that’s good to know. I hate the Joker way more than I find you annoying, so I’m willing to believe your defense. The thing is that if you’re lying to me, we’re not going anywhere.

Batman: What do you mean? I'm arresting you.

Catwoman: Not that, Batsy. I’m a fabulous cat burglar, and you want to ‘catch’ me, but if you’re the type of creep that would be on a list, we can’t possibly be together, and I will not hesitate to deal with you myself. I will protect children, no matter what.

Robin: Batman, I can see why you have a crush on her!

Batman (blushing): What? I’m not into her! I'm not into you— Back to the what you said. I came to arrest you, and you’re judging me?! Are you rejecting me if I did want you, which I don’t!

Robin giggled, enjoying the tension between them.

Catwoman: Batsy, I have standards. If you’re a creepy prude, then I wouldn’t dare be with you. Which is saying a lot for a man like you. Know what I mean?

Batman: No. Explain.

Catwoman: You’re wearing a leather bat suit.

Batman: You’re wearing a sexy leather cat suit! You can’t judge me when you’re walking around like a vixen of the night!

Catwoman smirked, crossing her arms while Robin giggled at his father’s fumble.

Catwoman (holding her tail): I didn’t mention “sexy” with yours. 'Vixen of the night' is a good description for me. If you want me to—

Batman (stammering, blushing): I— I’m not doing this! You’re under arrest, and I reject you! There, I said it!

Catwoman: Oh, all right, take me in, Batsy. But if you harm a hair on that angel’s head, I will chop it off!

Batman (annoyed as he turned Catwoman forward): Just walk forward and stop calling me Batsy.

Catwoman shrugged with a playful smile and walked ahead. Robin scurried over to Batman.

Robin: Batman, don’t yell at the nice cat burglar.

Batman (embarrassed): Robin, not now.

[suuuupernovaaa]

liar

summary: you thought joel felt the same, until he tells you otherwise.

the things that i lost here, the people i knew - they got me surrounded for a mile or two

MASTERLIST

I ain’t never gonna see you like that.

The words haunt you.

I ain’t never gonna see you like that, he said. Like he was embarrassed to find out how you felt about him. He winced when he said it. It makes you feel sick to your stomach to recall the words, the way he looked when he said them. You feel foolish, even now, months later.

At night, when you’re almost asleep, those words flash behind your eyelids and you wake up, hot and ashamed all over again.

You’d requested to be taken off patrol the next day, moved to stable and bar duty, and stayed there ever since. You would do anything to avoid Joel Miller, who was actually easy to avoid. He kept to himself and his family, avoided crowds, stayed away. You did your work during the day, served drinks at night, and went home.

It was bleak.

“I gotta say somethin’ now,” Tommy said to his brother, hours into a quiet patrol.

Joel just grunted, but he knew what Tommy was going to say, he thought.

“Remember last spring, that girl fell off her horse? She got a nasty cut on her elbow, would’ve sent bigger men to the clinic immediately, bleedin’ all over like that. But she got back on, even though she was embarrassed, without a second thought.”

“Hmm,” Joel nodded. He remembered.

“Your face was white when you saw the blood. And I know you ain’t scared of blood.”

Joel didn’t reply, but he knew what Tommy was getting at anyway.

He’d felt sick when he saw her on the ground, saw the blood dripping down her arm, and had almost pulled her off that damn horse himself when she got back on.

Not safe, not safe, not safe, his mind had said. An overwhelming need to protect had filled his mind, and he’d shoved it down, every day since.

“You crushed her with that lie,” Tommy continued. “I know ain’t my business, but you need to know. She ain’t over it.”

Joel glared at his brother, who just shrugged at him.

That lie.

I ain’t never gonna see you like that.

He knew he’d crushed her when he said it, but he figured she’d get over it. She was young, and beautiful, and there were better men for her than him. He’d seen that guy behind the bar staring at her with a look in his eyes that Joel knew all too well, and his hands had curled into fists at the sight of it.

It was news to him that she was still hurting.

Not safe, not safe, not safe, his mind yelled. How could he protect her from this hurt he’d caused?

xxx

You’d served what felt like a million drinks tonight, and were just about to hang it up and head home for another restless night. Your feet were sore, your arms too, and a headache was blooming.

You stopped to drink some water before grabbing your jacket.

“Done for the night?” Jason, another bartender, asked.

You nodded. “You mind? It’s quiet. I’m beat.”

He pulled the towel from his belt and flicked it at you teasingly. “Sure, abandon me.”

You smiled at him. Jason was probably your closest friend in Jackson, and he always had a kind if yet patronizing word for you. He was a good person - handsome, too.

Why weren’t you interested in him, you wondered for the thousandth time.

“See you tomorrow!” you waved to him, and left the bar.

The cold felt good. You stopped outside the doors, letting it wash over you and cool your warm cheeks. Eyes closed, you took a deep breath, feeling better already.

Until you opened your eyes, to see Joel Miller standing just a few feet away from you, staring.

Shit. Fuck. You pulled your hat on and stepped towards the sidewalk, meaning to hustle home - but then he called your name.

You faltered, but didn’t turn, until he called it again.

“Hey,” you said, turning to face him.

He’s stood just in front of you then. Less than a couple feet away. The closest you’d been since that night.

“Joel, I…” you said, a little emboldened by the drinks he’s brought for you.

“Yeah?” he asks in that southern drawl that makes your toes curl, his attention fully on you.

“I really like you,” you whisper, feeling silly but free at the same time.

His smile fades, replaced by a look of horror. “What?”

“Like… oh, don’t make me say it twice, please.”

He shakes his head and sets his drink down, and then he says it, wincing as he does.

“I ain’t never gonna see you like that.”

You stand up immediately, so fast your thighs hit the table, spilling a drink. Before Joel can say another word, you’re out the door, a shame blooming in your chest that you won’t be able to shake.

Joel tucked his hands into the pocket of his jacket. “Can I walk you home?”

You squinted at him. “Walk me home?”

He just nodded, offering no other explanation.

“Oh… sure.”

You turned to begin walking, slowly, allowing him to catch up and walk alongside you.

It was quiet for the first block or so, passing silent houses, some with lights on and some long past sleep. The dusting of snow crunched under your boots and his, the only sound, until he finally spoke.

“I was thinkin’ today about your first patrol,” he said. “When you fell off your damn horse and nearly broke your arm.”

“It was not even near broken,” you replied, finally looking at him.

“Looked like it to me. Blood everywhere. I was about to pick you up myself, take you to the doc, when you jumped up and got back on the damn horse without a second thought.”

You squinted at him in the dark, wondering what the hell he was getting at.

“I didn’t even know you then. But when I saw all that blood on your arm… I felt fuckin’ terrified. I couldn’t understand it. Some woman I didn’t even know, just a cut up elbow and I, I wanted to take you to my house and lock you in. Keep you away from all of it. From anything that could ever hurt you again.”

Your heart began beating fast in your chest. The winter air dried your mouth out. You kept silent and listened.

“And that scared the shit out of me, that… need. And it wasn’t just that. When you got back up and didn’t so much as flinch, I felt proud of you. You don’t need me to feel that way, but I did.”

He’d stopped walking, and you with him. He turned to face you, still a few houses away from your home.

“I ain’t good enough for you. I’m… I’m old, and I’ve done a lot of things I can’t undo. You deserve someone better, someone like that kid the bar.”

You raised your eyebrow. “But do you want me, Joel?” you asked.

He winced again. That same wince as all those months ago, and you understood now. Why he’d done it.

He’d lied. I ain’t never gonna see you like that. A lie he’d told, because he thought you could do better. A hurt he’d caused trying to do what he thought was best for you, in his arrogance.

“It don’t matter,” he said.

You pursed your lips together. “I don’t want Jason. Maybe I could have him, if I did. There are a lot of nice guys around here, maybe even handsome, maybe some who are interested and won’t lie to me. But I don’t want them, Joel.” You took a step, just one, closing the gap between the two of you, until you could feel his breath on your face.

“I want you. And you can either tell me you want me now, or leave me alone for the rest of our lives. I won’t be jerked around.”

His eyes, avoiding you until that moment, finally met yours. Brown and tired and determined, they were so beautiful, and it stung to look into them.

Until he kissed you.

Forcefully. His mouth on yours, his hands in your hair, his body pressed firmly to you.

You couldn’t help it, you moaned into his open mouth, and wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him tightly as his tongue ran along your bottom lip, begging for entrance that you allowed.

God, nothing had ever felt so good as this, and nothing had ever felt so right.

He pulled away to soon, but neither of you let go.

“I want you,” he whispered through heaving breaths after a moment, and finally, you smiled.

Your first real smile in a long time.

“Then I’m yours. But you have to agree to be mine too, and let go of the idea that the things you’ve done in your past matter to me. I don’t fucking care about that.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours. “Alright,” was his only reply.

After a moment, you whispered, “Come home with me now.”

He smiled and pressed another kiss, soft and chaste, to your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

[leaderwon]

CHAPTER 16: NO GAMES, JUST YOU AND ME

wc — 690+

prev — masterlist — next

You stared at Sunghoon’s message longer than you’d admit.

Can we talk? Just you and me. No games.

There was something about it. Not just the words, but the way they felt. Like a breath held too long. Like he was finally offering you something raw, something real.

You hesitated, then replied.

[YOU]: When and where?

The answer came seconds later.

[Sunghoon]: Now. The park near the dorms?

You grabbed your jacket without thinking too much about it. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe it was reckless. But you were tired of pretending you didn’t care. Tired of carrying silence like armor. You just needed clarity. Even if it hurt.

The park was quiet by the time you got there. The air was cold and crisp, and the only sounds were the rustling trees and the occasional distant hum of traffic. You spotted him immediately. He was sitting on the swings, hands shoved into his pockets, head tilted toward the sky as if it held answers. He looked up when you approached and stood as soon as he saw you.

“Hey,” he said, voice softer than usual. “Thanks for coming.” “Figured it was time,” you replied, trying to sound steady.

He nodded and gestured toward the swings again. You both sat, not saying anything for a while. Just swaying gently, your feet brushing the gravel beneath.

It was almost peaceful. Almost.

“I didn’t mean to make things worse,” he said finally. You glanced at him. “Then why did it feel like you did?” “I don’t know.” He let out a breath, frustration tugging at his features. “Because I was scared? Because I didn’t know how to handle any of this?”

You didn’t say anything, letting him continue. It felt like if you interrupted, he might shut down completely.

“I thought keeping distance would help. That if I stayed quiet, things would eventually settle. But they didn’t. It got messier. And I keep thinking about what I should’ve said when the letters came out. When you looked at me and I looked away.”

That night returned to your mind. The way your heart had dropped when he avoided your gaze, when he didn’t defend you, didn’t even try.

“You chose silence,” you said quietly. “I know.” His voice cracked just slightly. “And I hated myself for it the second I did.”

You turned to him. “Then why didn’t you fix it?” “Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”

That made you freeze.

“I knew I hurt you,” he continued. “And I thought maybe I should stay away. Maybe you’d be better off without any of us making it worse.”

You didn’t answer. Your heart was pounding too loudly.

“I didn’t want to be just another face in the background of your story,” he said. “I didn’t want you to look at me and see someone who let you down.”

Your eyes met his. “You were never in the background,” you said, barely above a whisper. “That’s why it hurt so much.”

Something flickered in his gaze. You couldn’t tell if it was relief or regret.

“I’m not asking you to forget everything,” he said. “I just want to be honest now. No confusion. No pretending.”

You waited, unsure of what was coming next.

Then he said it, quietly, like it had been sitting on the edge of his lips for a long time.

“I liked you before the letters.”

Your breath caught.

“I still do,” he added. “Even if I don’t know what to do with it yet.”

You looked away, unsure what to do with the ache rising in your chest.

“I don’t need an answer,” he said gently. “I just needed you to know.”

The air between you shifted. It felt heavier, but not unbearable. Just full of things that finally had a name.

“I’m tired too,” you said softly.

He smiled, faint and a little sad. “Then maybe we start there. Just two tired people trying to be better.”

You nodded slowly. You didn’t know what this meant or where it would go. But for now, this was enough.

No confusion. No walls.

Just truth.

Just Sunghoon.

Just you.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[violetscar656]

"The unknown", Aftermath Part 3

Summary: Azriel is Nightcourt’s spymaster, brother to the High Lord and General, best friend to Y/N (Past + present)

Warnings: Mentions of blood, torture, and slight angst?

Author’s Note: Hello, I really had to get this outta my mind, every time I tried to write part 3 it was always in Azriel POV, and guys I REALLY TRIED  in Y/N Pov but my brain stopped braining, sooo, I hope you guys enjoy. Please read parts 1and 2 to Comments are open to any suggestions.

57 YEARS AGO

I entered the healing counters; all I knew was that Y/N had gotten hurt during her mission. I walk towards the chambers and see Madja working on her. I freeze near the doorway, a gaping hole on the right wing, wrists’ bloodied, face covered in blood and dirt. By the cauldron, the way she is injured I don’t think it’s others’ blood.

“You shouldn’t be here” Madja said “I need you to go, Azriel”

The healer looks towards me “Everyone else is down the hall, now go” She demanded

I obey, guilt and anger pumping through my veins, I turn towards the hall, I see everyone settled there, but my sole focus is on Rhys, he sent Y/N to this mission

I go straight up to him, grabbing his collar and slamming him to the wall, “WHY?” My voice was not that of a brother’s, it was of that of the spymaster, lethal and dangerous

Rhys saw the iciness on my face “It’s not what you think, brother- I just sent her to get an update”

Cassian pulls on my arm “What the hell is wrong with you?-Az look at me” I don’t, my gaze on Rhys anger getting the better of me

Cassian grabs my face “Look at me Az- we cannot get like this, for Y/N”

Yes that was true Y/N always hated it when we fought; she would jump right in between

“Spit out your anger and look at him, really look” Cassian demanded, and I let go of Rhys , I closed my eyes and took deep breaths

I look at Rhys his gaze on ground, “Brother” I say, guilt creeping up, silver-lined black-violet eyes met mine “It was just a regular update, it was not a mission” Rhys sits on the floor he combs his hair with his hand “I do know, who or what got her in this situation” His rasps,

Sound of clearing throat came, we all turned “I did the best as I could” Madja said gloomily “There was too much of blood loss” Her face full of remorse

“What do you mean Madja” Mor asked, in the haze of my anger, I didn’t even notice her

Madja's gaze travels to all of us “I found high amount of faebane in her system, which is stopping the healing process, an antidote is given, yes, but with the various injuries, it’s hard to say” She pauses, face of sorrow  “I have done the best as I can on the wing for now, it needs to heal before I do another procedure” She pauses again, as if  to contemplate how to tell the further news “I’m going to be honest, there is very little hope”

Silence

“W-what?” Amren said voice stunned

Cassian curses, “Is there anything we can do, ANYTHING?”

“For Y/N?” Madja answers “Have faith that she’ll make it through” Her expression turns grim “Though I suggest to prepare yourselves for the worst, not many have come back from this situation we have”

---

“I am going to kill them all” Rhys growls

I finally speak up “What are we waiting for?” My voice horse, we came back to the town house when the high healer practically kicked us out, all except Mor

“Rhysand” Amren voiced, she is the only one that seems to be in her senses me and my brothers are ready to kill every Illyrian if that what it takes, “Killing the misogynist bats does seem fun, do not get me wrong, but you are their high lord not just a brother” Amren reminds Rhys with a rare gentle tone

“We try to respect them, hell, even go out of our way to get things changed there. But if this is how they treat our sister, they can all lie waste” Cassian replied to Amren

I furrow my eyebrows at, our sister comment; but no matter how much I want to deny it, killing Illyrians will get us nowhere. Nuala and Cerridwen reported to me that one of the young soldiers in training and a female, is the one who found her and got her to the camp.

We sit in silence for a while, “I’m going to her” I said, not able to stand being away

“Mor is already there, and if you leave shadowsinger, these 2 will follow” Amren put me in my place

--

It’s been four days since she is unconscious, Madja was able to repair her wing, and most of her wounds are healed, it is just a matter of time now. All of us decided not to take any action, at least not until Y/N is awake; she will be wake up.  I look at the night sky, wondering if the Mother or the Gods, whoever is watching over, are laughing at my situation right now.

--

I was caught of guard and pinned to the ground, “F-fuck” I grunt

“You're not yourself, brother” Rhys said, moving himself from me. We decided to spar, to get our minds at least a bit normal

I hear a whistle “If Rhysie could beat you then- yeah you truly aren’t” Cassian told from a distance

It’s been 7 days now, Y/N hasn’t woken up yet. I close my eyes, not giving in to the fear of her leaving us. These 7 days have been the longest days in my existence ever since the war.

I get up “Well, yeah” I tell them, dusting off myself

Ten days passed by, we were all sitting in the Town House living room, Mor not present when -

“Awake, Awake” My shadows basically shout, the glass in my hand slips, and all of them look at me

I finally take a real breath “S-she is awake,” My voice almost trembling

---

Present

I stand leaning on the wall of the Town House living room, seeing the madness before me-

“What do you mean it is not an option?” Y/N practically screams

Rhys seems to be on the edge to explode “It means that I won’t take the risk-

“But I'm saying it as a back-up option” Y/N cuts him off  

This female just offered herself as bait to catch those males, knowing that it could risk her life. In the past, she barely came back alive. Does she have any limit for her self-sacrifice? How do I explain this urge to just hold on to her? Maybe it’s because she was the only one who understood me.

I was sitting by the Sidra drinking my guilt and pain. Rhys' message about Amarantha’s plan got to us a couple of hours ago

“That won’t work- well at least alone” Y/N says, sitting next to me, and gestures towards the bottle; I give it to her

“He did what he thought was right” She takes a sip “Doesn’t make it right for us, though” I just stare at her, she stares right back, she signs “Brood all you want with your usual Azriel expressions, tell me when you are ready”

My brows furrowed “Usual Azriel Expression?” She snorts

“You know face unreadable, but eyes telling everything.” She pauses “Others might not get it Az, but your eyes don’t lie to me”

“Rhysand” Amren’s voice drags me from the memory “It can be considered as an option”-  “Granted it is a deadly and somewhat idiotic one, but it will work”, that from Amren. Why am I not surprised  

I don’t bother to even look at her, I simply look at Y/N, trying to figure out why she even thought of this. The last time her condition was – I don’t want to go there, it felt like the lowest point in my 500 years

“What I don’t get is how your spies did not get this information, shadowsinger?” Amren asks

I slowly turn my gaze away from Y/N and look at Amren “Their hideouts are mostly deep in the forest and mountains which line the borders, it's nearly inhabitable surroundings”

I pause, “What the females told, is the truth, the randomness of the deaths made it hard to notice” – “It also stopped for a couple of years, it coincidentally is after Y/N’s escape” I declare

“Maybe when Amarantha had the entire Prythian under her command, it had to stop? Feyre says

“In that time, there were significantly fewer killings, and none near Windhaven” I reply

Rhysand had updated Feyre and Mor on the situation; by the look I saw on Feyre’s face in the morning, it seemed that he even told the aftermath of the kidnapping; Y/N’s nightmares, though I don’t think he told them that

We start to discuss tactics, knowing we need more information. I got locations of a couple of hideouts, but not much. Whoever these males were, they covered their tracks, well, almost. A good number of my spies are now located in the borders of every camp, it’s just a game of waiting now.

---

“She won't budge” Mor said “She is convinced that after we get the information, her plan will work, and I think- I can understand her” My jaw ticks

“No” I said in a voice that doesn’t feel like mine. Mor looks at me, confused

I clear my throat “I think Rhys rubbed off the self-sacrificing bullshit on her” Mor sorts

“Az, you seemed intense, more than usual during the meeting” She states

How do I explain it to Mor of all people, hell I don’t even have it figured out. But seeing Y/N yesterday it - I am not sure if I see her the same way she sees me. I never saw her as a sister, my best friend, yes, but there is this other feeling, something that formed in those days she was unconscious 50 years ago. I can't even think about it, my brothers see her as their sister, and vice versa, so why should I be any different to her

“Az?” I hear Mor’s voice and blink

“Were you saying something?” I ask

“Yeah?” She exclaims, “I was telling you that this mission seems more important”

I look down and shake my head, I can't tell her the whole truth, so I go with “She is my best friend Mor” My voice a little hoarse; Mor gapes, I look at her, “What?” I ask her, confused

She tilts her head up “Nothing” She chuckles, looking at me like she didn’t before, grins and leaves ..That was- well odd

---

The border between IronCrest and CrimsonStone camps, the latter being the deadliest camp; that’s where we were; “We” because once I got the information that the majority of the killings are between these camps, Y/N demanded to come along no matter what.

“We need to take cover there” I say, pointing out to the cave in the middle of the mountain

Y/N nods, and we head there. I send my shadows in every direction to check for any activity. These mountains and forests are basically for wildlife.

We sit trying to warm up, knowing better than to start a fire. I notice Y/N trembling with cold, I sit next to her, and hold her, her hazel-green eyes widen

“Body heat” That’s all I say

 “Thank you” she replies, leaning into me

A couple of minutes pass by in silence, I break it “I’m with Rhys on the plan you suggested”

She snorts “Well I got that figured out, by the way you're mother-henning me”

“What?” I look at her, assumed, she furrows her brows “You're barely leaving my side, we are not splitting directions and searching like on previous missions” She gives me a knowing look

“Aand you have the -I need to be serious but I'm worried as hell look -” She whispers, shouts

I gaped at her, I didn’t even realise I was doing all those things

She narrows her eyes “I refuse not to be involved, just because of what happened”

“If holding you back means that you won't sacrifice yourself, then fine, I’ll gladly be the bad guy” I reply to her, my voice gentler than I thought

I sense my shadows coming back “We found something” they whisper, “It is not far”

“We need to go” I tell Y/N

--

We go near the forest grounds along the CrimsonStone camp, high trees and every suspicious pattern of leaves on the ground, it is like someone placed it there. 

“I’ll move it”, Y/N heads forward “No” I stop her, “It can be a trap”

I use my shadows to move the leaves, and there we see it, nearly camouflaged into the ground, a door. I look at Y/N, silent words exchanged between us, it’s time to uncover this

--

We go down the narrow stairs, my shadows already informing me they have a captive,

“There, there, now before the inevitable, let us have some fun” a male voice said, and  another voice laughed

“No please no” a female voice cried out. I look at Y/N, her face pale

I nod to her, and we charge further inside. I knock down the male with ease, and look towards Y/N, who successfully put down the other male. And together we start rescuing the female

“Shh shh, it’s ok, we are here to save you” I hear Y/N comforting the female

“We need to be quick” I pause “We need to make sure she is safe” I look at the males “I need them for questioning”

“We need to get her to safety first” Y/N tells me, I nod

--

“You are just a bastard nobody, and you always will be that” one of the males hissed at me.

I bought them in the Night Court’s prison, the only reason they survive is for questioning, “No, little boy, you need to play nice” I unsheathe truth-teller, and point it at the ear of the second male

“You look more intelligent than your friend” My voice ice “Who are you?” I dangle my dagger near his eye “Since when is this going?”

“I-I will tell you,” The second male says, terrified to the core “Shut your dam mouth” the first one said, I don’t bother with threats. I aim and through, truth-teller right in the eye of the stupid male, and he screams in pain

The smell of piss hits me “Now you can be clever and speak or stupid” – “Well you just got an example of what happens when you are stupid” I say to the second male

“I-it’s all male” the first one says “Males who do not believe in what your High Lord is implementing” he gulps “We do not have any regret; females were always beneath” The tone in which he says it wants me to kill this bastard right here.

“How many of you are there?” I ask with calm

“There is no specific number, at least not that I know off” he looks towards the other male “He knows more than I, he has been in this longer”

I stroll towards the first male, one side of his face dripping blood. I take out a bottle from my pocket “This is a pain killer” I show the bottle “You want this, then you tell me, or-“ I give him the spymaster smile, which promises slow death

“Nn-never” He spits out “Well I guess your going to be stupid then” I say, voice laced with venom

--

I flew to the Town House, the information I got about the camps involved and the reasoning was just barbaric

I knock on the door “Brother” and enter Rhysand's office

“Az” Rhys says, Cassian stops his pacing, at looks at me, to my surprise, Feyre is sitting on one of the chairs

“Feyre, Cass” I look towards both of them, and give a nod to Rhys, opening my mental shields, I allow Rhys to look at what happened. Feyre gasps, and by the reaction Cassian has, they know it too  

“What the actual fuck?” Cassian exclaims

Feyre stands up and walks towards Rhys side, they both look at each other. The former’s face filled with anger and worry

 “Rhys, I want you to look into their minds” I say

He nods, “I will”

“Y/N needs to know this, and you 3 know this fact very well” Feyre declares, and we all look at her; she looks towards me “You should tell it to her, Az”

“No, no, I think Cassian can handle her better” I reply not trusting myself on how I’ll act in front of her

“Oh you Illyrian baby, grow up, you have to tell her, and that’s an order” She says with the High Lady voice  

I get up “You know,sometimes I hate you guys” I tease and leave

--

I walk into the library in House of Wind, searching for Y/N, I stop by the table

“She is at the 4th level” Clotho writes

“Thank you” I tell her, “She is not looking good, Lord Azriel” I take an audible breath

“It’s just Azriel, Clotho, and I know, I’ll try”

“This library has been like a sanctuary for females who have seen terrible things, make sure Y/N doesn’t need more reasons to be here” Clotho warns me

With that in mind, I go the 4th level

My shadows reached her before I did, Y/n just smiled at them, her eyes looked so sad

“Care for company?” I ask her

“Az” a sad smile lines her face “Will it be rude if I say no?”

I look at her “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go- but I came here to tell you what happened”

She whips her head towards me, mouth half open

I side smile “Don’t be surprised, it was Feyre who ordered me to tell you”

Y/N’s eyes go soft, I sit next to her on the table “They are males who think females are beneath them, and they do not agree with Rhysand’s rules about training the females and not clipping them”

She look at me “And?” she asks, I look down, not able to meet her gaze “And nothing else” I say in a low voice

“I know it is more than horrific” – “But, Rhysand is going to look in their minds” I look at Y/N, I see her face, pale and in shock, I look in her eyes and see horror and what is that shame?

I hold her hand “Tell me something, anything, dove”

She tightens the grip “I need them dead Az” she tells “The male with green siphons, he was there 50 years ago, I didn’t forget his voice” She pauses, her eyes bore into mine “I will kill him”

Stunned I say “Y/n, I promise you” I hold her face “You will kill him”

--

Screams of agony and pain fill the chamber. “What is it?” I ask venom in my voice

“This is what you did to the females, didn’t you?” I slice near the talon of the stupid male's wing “Torture them, while they are helpless” I cut near the main membrane “Cut their wings off”-

“Please, please, I’ll give you any information, all of it” he breathes heavily “Please stop this madness”

“So you do believe that it is madness” Rhysand’s voice echoes as he walks inside

“What pray tell is this Az?” – “Why are these sorry pieces of males still with limbs?” Rhys’s voice is lethally calm

I just smirk, Rhys goes silent, and the sobs of the males stop, he is in their minds, few heartbeats later

“You are pathetic” Rhys says, disgust on this face “We are done” – “Get in here”

I turn my head and see Y/N walking in her face ice, but resolve and rage in her eyes

She kicks the male “Do you remember me?” –

She huffs, “I’m the prize who got away from you” She pulls out a dagger, I stop her and give her truth-teller, silent words exchange between us two

“This is what you pitiful males will see last” – “An Illyrian female with wings, who will end your life” she smiles, showing them her inner monster “Some people do not deserve a quick death”; and then two swift moves, and both males' throats gush with blood

--

I walk towards the balcony “Here” Y/N turns and takes the glass I offered

I look at her intently, “We just won a battle” she says, looking at the sky “Not the war”

“We will destroy them” I tell her, “Thank you” She says “Thank you, for letting me end them”

I smirk, “Anytime” I keep my now-empty glass on the table and stand in silence next to her, feeling the chill night wind

“You know” Y/N breaks the silence “I feel lucky to have this family, to have a best friend like you, who always got my back” She looks at me

I stare at her, surprised by the words I heard. In that moment, I just smile Best friend, not brother. Y/N places her head on my shoulder,and we just stand there, in silence, and a feeling of peace fills me

“We need to discuss what happens next” She says,

“And we will” I tell her, “But not now, right now we give ourselves time” I look at her and smile “Y/N- I hesitate for a bit “You are my best friend too”

--

You walk towards your bedroom, Azriel just called me his best friend, not sister, and he gave me truth-teller, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You enter your bedroom and sit by the dresser, I called him my best friend. You look in the mirror. Later, after this mission, if I survive, I’ll tell him, later.

Note: Please dont hate meee, this is my first time writing male POV, and well, Az is stupid, I know, sorry for that. We still love him.

My taglist <3: @the-onlyy-angie @lreadsstuff @xadenswhore @willowpains @secretsicanthideanymore @a-chegwidden

[taylorman2274]

Today Is Where Your Book Begins (Chapter IV)

You find yourself in Teyvat thanks to the efforts of Alice and Aether, and along with that the answers to your questions have been found. But instead of feeling satisfied, you are left conflicted and confused. Not to worry though, Aether is here to guide you through everything, just like you have done for him.

Content Warning(s): N/A

Notes: SAGAU; GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Previous || Next

Taglist: @bunniotomia; @sarraisme; @chericia;

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.

..

…

You felt the sun hit your eyes.

Tiredly, you flipped your body away from the beaming rays. You let out a comforting sigh when your face hit the cool bedsheets.

.

..

…

‘…Wait… …Bedsheets…?’

Curiously, you opened your eyes…

…And immediately locked eyes with a man sitting across from you.

Startled, you quickly sat up, intending to question who the man was, but the sudden movement proved too much for your body to handle. You groaned, shutting your eyes and bringing a hand to your head as you felt a strong headache coming along. Furthermore, your body started to deflate, quickly becoming too tired to keep yourself upright. The man in the room hopped to his feet and rushed to your side, a worried expression on his face.

“Woah woah woah. Easy. Easy…” his gloved hands softly gripped your shoulders, gently pushing you back down onto the bed. “You need more rest. Your body is still recovering from the long journey. Try not to overexert yourself.”

Lacking the strength to refute, you reluctantly complied with the stranger’s words. However, you took the opportunity to come to a few conclusions about your current situation.

Number 1: Whoever this stranger is, he doesn’t appear to have any intention of hurting you. At least for right now…

Number 2: You definitely are not in the witch’s tent anymore. Last time you checked, tents didn’t have queen-sized beds and wooden walls. You couldn’t recognize where you were from just a quick glance, but something in your mind is telling you that there is some familiarity to the room you’re occupying.

Number 3: Speaking of familiarity…

…

Why does this stranger’s voice sound so freaking recognizable? It’s literally on the tip of your tongue…

But before you could think about it more, a cold hand came to a rest on your forehead.

…

Actually, cold might be an understatement. This hand is much colder than that. It’s… frigid?

‘But how? Isn’t he wearing gloves?’

Regardless, it helps alleviate your headache, which brings you a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an ice pack with me,” the stranger apologizes. “But hopefully this works as an alternative.”

You opened your eyes and looked toward the stranger, intending to give him your thanks, but you suddenly stopped.

…

“…Aether?” You slurred.

A soft smile grows on his face. “Yes, it’s me. Are you feeling better, Reader?”

Your head rolls to the side. Aether’s hand stays pressed against your forehead, his wrist joints glowing frosty blue. “…Reader…?”

Aether tilts his head. “Yeah, you’re our Reader.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “…Huh?”

The room becomes silent for a couple of seconds before Aether seems to understand something.

“Oh, that’s right. Alice mentioned that you might be out of the loop on a couple of things. I’ll do my best to explain everything to you.”

The next five or so minutes are spent by Aether explaining to you the story behind your arrival at his Serenitea Pot. He explains Alice’s plan on his end and how he believes she had a friend of hers in your world who owed her a favor.

‘That must’ve been Elise…’ you concluded.

“I know it’s not easy telling people that you come from other worlds, trust me, I’ve been there before,” Aether says. “It’s even harder telling someone that the ‘story’ they’ve been reading actually exists. Despite this, I hope this revelation hasn’t been too hard on you.”

You had recovered enough to the point where you could sit on the edge of the bed. It was true that your mind was racing, but you suppose fantasizing about this situation seemed to diminish your astonishment. Furthermore, seeing Aether in front of you — not someone in cosplay, there is no way anyone could replicate his golden eyes — which buries any doubt that this couldn’t be anything but real life. Not even a dream sounded like a realistic possibility!

“…Huh…”

Aether lets out a small chuckle. “You must be in shock and awe.”

“Can you blame me?” You shrugged your shoulders. “You even said it yourself. Explaining this to anyone is not easy at all.”

Aether nodded. “But you’re here now. And I’m glad I finally get the chance to talk with you.”

…

You smiled and tipped your imaginary hat. “Likewise.”

Aether’s smile grew wider as he reached out his hand. Thinking he was going for a handshake, you grabbed his hand but were surprised when he pulled you to your feet instead. You stumbled a bit, but you were quick to catch your balance. Aether was also looking ready to catch you.

“Do you mind if I bring you somewhere with me?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Where to?”

“How about a trip to Mondstadt?”

Your eyes widen in shock. You don’t think you’re ready for a visit to any major city. Especially one with so many people you know! Aether seemed to recognize your thoughts almost instantly.

“Not to the city! I know that you’re not ready for a city visit. You just got here after all. I only plan on taking you to the cliffs above Starfell Lake. It’s one of my favorite sightseeing spots.”

You sighed in relief. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m ready for any main city. A small town, maybe, but not any main area.” A sudden thought pops into your mind. “Wait. Will Venti be alright with this? I won’t be intruding on his nation, will I?”

“You definitely won’t,” Aether laughs. “You have nothing to worry about.”

You gave a nod of approval. Aether nods as well before placing his palm over your eyes. “You’re probably gonna want to close your eyes. It takes a while to get used to the waypoints.”

You follow his orders, and soon enough, Aether begins the teleportation.

---------------------------------------------------------

You definitely felt a little dizzy once you and Aether teleported to Mondstadt, but it wasn’t as bad as the headache you had earlier.

“I always like to set up a portable waypoint here when I need a little time by myself.”

When Aether finally removes his palm, you slowly open your eyes before gasping in amazement.

Mondstadt looked even prettier in person. The sun shone on Cidar Lake, glimmering the water’s tides. You could see Mondstadt City standing proudly in the middle of the lake. Despite the giant stone walls surrounding its borders, the elevation you were at allowed you to peer over and spot the many red roofs that occupied the city. Additionally, you could see the statue of Barbatos erected in front of the cathedral near the back of the city. And last but not least, the city’s three windmills slowly spun, which brought your attention to the calm breeze that brushed against your skin and hair.

Outside of the city and lake, the grass, bushes, and trees covered the land in nature’s green, leaving a few strips of land open for the dirt paths for merchant carts and horse carriages to travel along.

Usually, such pretty sights and calm scenery would be interrupted by a yapping fairy.

…Speaking of said yapping fairy.

“Where’s Paimon?” You asked.

“She’s with Lumine for the day,” Aether replied. “Alice and I thought it would be better if your first visit to Teyvat was done one-on-one.”

Aether takes a seat on the cliff ledge, and only later would you come to realize that this particular spot matched the image on Genshin’s pre-installation screen. “So now that we’re here, I wanna hear about your story.”

“My story?” You questioned, sitting down beside Aether.

“Yeah, you’ve known my story for the past ten or so years, while I practically know nothing about you! I wanna know more about you, what your world is like, how you came across Teyvat’s ‘story’, everything!”

“I doubt I can explain everything to you,” you laughed at his enthusiasm. “But I’ll try my best.”

Like the five minutes Aether took to explain his and Alice’s plan, you spent the next five minutes talking about yourself, your family, the simplest details of your world, and how you first heard about Genshin Impact. All the while, Aether listened intently, asking questions whenever something piqued his curiosity.

“So it’s this device that allows you to guide us and not from any power that you possess?” Aether asks.

“Yeah…” you scratched the back of your neck. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m not disappointed!” Aether exclaims. “What made you think I was?”

“I just thought that since you’re all powerful and all, you’d think that whoever was controlling you would either be someone of your equal or more powerful. But I’m not that powerful. I don’t have anything like a Vision, and I’m not a god nor some type of all mighty Creator-like being. I’m just…” You gestured at yourself. “I’m just me.”

Aether frowned at your self-deprecation. “I don’t care how powerful you are,” he puts an arm around your shoulder. “The only thing I care about is how you and Paimon were there for me when I was at my lowest. Lumine and I had never lost a fight before, but when we first encountered that god not only did we lose, we were also separated. That was probably my first time I ever felt lost. I had my power sealed and had no idea what to even do. But once I fished out Paimon and had you to guide me, you two helped me find the truth of this world and reunite with Lumine. And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

Aether’s words had you blushing so badly that you turned away in embarrassment.

“I really mean it,” he shakes your shoulder. “And it’s not just me, either. So many want to reward you as well. In fact, that’s all that everybody has been telling me for the past couple of days. Amber wants to treat you to a meal at Good Hunter. Gaming wants to treat you to some dim sum. Yoimiya wants to make your very own firework. Navia wants to invite you to the Tabletop Troupe.”

You held up a finger to stop him from rambling. “I’m sensing a pattern. So it’s really just the extroverts who are offering stuff.”

…

“Yeah, pretty much.”

You and Aether get a good laugh out of that.

“But you see what I mean. You’ve got so many people who want to meet you, and I don’t think most of them are gonna take no for an answer.”

You frowned. “I still think that they should know more about me before I meet with any of them. Like what I told you. They should know that, as far as who this person is, they’re just an ordinary human. Nothing special or anything. I don’t want to ruin any expectations they may have for me.”

“…You really gotta stop talking down on yourself,” Aether sighs. “Believe me when I say no matter who you say you are, your actions speak for themselves. And for that, you deserve praise.”

…

You softly smile. “Thanks.”

Aether smiles too before materializing a Kamera in his hands. “How about a picture together before I have to send you back?”

He gets up and walks away from the cliff ledge. After walking a few feet, he sets up the Kamera on a stand and sets up the automatic timer. He peeks around the Kamera. “Ready?”

You nod your head.

“Alright, get ready. We have ten seconds.” He turns on the timer before rushing back by your side.

You didn’t know what pose he wanted you to do, so you kept your hands in your pockets. However, Aether grabs one of your hands and brings it around his shoulder. You looked at him incredulously. “I thought you weren’t a touchy guy?”

Aether just looked at you, smiled, and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “I am now, [Y/N].”

Shrugging your shoulders, you looked back at the Kamera.

*click*

---------------------------------------------------------

You unlocked the door to your apartment and walked inside. Home sweet home.

That unexpected trip to Teyvat left you exhausted. Time to get ready for bed.

You did your nightly duties: showering, brushing your teeth, changing into pajamas, and a quick drink of water that you’ll regret taking when you have to wake up to use the bathroom in four hours time.

‘A necessary sacrifice.’ You told yourself.

However, when you approached your bed, you saw something that wasn’t there before. A picture — one that you recognized almost instantly — along with a familiar-looking white flower and a letter.

Setting the flower and picture aside, you began to read the letter.

…

Here’s to many more memories.

- Aether

P.S. YOU BETTER COME BACK SO PAIMON CAN GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST HUG EVER!!!

…

You don’t think the smile on your face can grow any bigger.

---------------------------------------------------------

THE END

---------------------------------------------------------

Author’s Notes: And that’s the end of this series! Probably won’t be a new one for a long while. There will be plenty of one-shots however, I’ve got plenty of ideas for some reverse isekai shenanigans.

Who knows, perhaps I'll make a one-shot extending this series someday.

[escapingmytrauma]

Bluelock Medic 1.0

 RIN ITOSHI’S ROUTE  

WC: 1.6K  

CW/TW: None.  

A/N: Make sure to read all the way through, there is a poll at the end of the chapter. You choose how the story proceeds.  

PROLOGUE: HERE

Thankfully dinner was not all that bad and you ended up getting to know a good amount of the players from bluelock. After you clean up your area, you decide to go check out the field to relax before going to bed. As you walk into the field you notice Rin on the field practicing his shooting. You sit down on the corner and watch as he is shooting his goals. Rin throws you a quick glance but goes back to shooting some goals.  

After a little while is when you notice it. His shooting is getting a little weaker. Maybe it’s the fact he was tired, but your mind is telling you otherwise. You decide to play closer attention and that’s when you notice it.  

His thigh.... It’s tense... as if it’s overused.  

“Hey Rin, your thigh is tense. That’s why your kicks are getting weaker,” you explain. He shoots a small glare and walks over to you.  

“It’s nothing, I can handle it,” he bites back. You sigh softly as you stand up and cross your arms.  

“Okay, well, don’t get mad at me when you overuse it more without massaging it and then pull a hamstring.” Rin stays quiet and then plops down.  

“You’re going to fix it?” 

“I can’t really fix an overused muscle; however, I can stretch it out and massage out the knots and tensity,” you offer. You walk over and gently push his shoulder to lie down. Surprisingly, he listens and lies down.  

Wow! So, the aloof can follow directions.  

“This might hurt, so just do your best to not flail around,” you say. You go over to his leg and pull it out. You start lifting his leg and stretch it out first.  

“Okay, you can put your leg down,” you state. He pulls his leg down but somehow hiw cleat getting caught into the hems of your shirt; unfortunately, Rin thought nothing of it and pulled much harder on his leg causing your shirt to rip.  

The sound of the rip echoes throughout the field, followed by a complete silence. Rin looks over and sees your shirt torn, but then quickly looks away. You look down and realize a good portion of your abdomen could be seen because of the rip. You chuckle softly and then look back at Rin who is still looking away.  

Is he.... embarrassed?  

“It’s okay Rin, it was an old shirt anyways,” you shrug it off and then get on your knees and straddle over one of his legs. He quickly looks back at you. “Relax Rin, I gotta massage your thigh and this is the best way I can get the knots out, I’m sorry.”  

He stays quiet but doesn’t protest. You slowly touch around his thigh to try to feel the knots or tensirty of his muscles. After having a good feel around you find three knots to massage. 

“Rin, I have to massage the knots out, but once they’re out, we’re done.” You bring your hands down and push your thumbs and do a circular motion to loosen the knot first. Rin tenses beneath you doing his best to not show any difference, but you noticed it.  

“You know, you don’t have to be so serious. Many people squirm while getting their knots massaged out, but it’s because it feels uncomrotable for a bit,” you explain. Rin looks at you and then narrows his eyes.  

“This isn’t a game for me, this is bluelock and I’m going to be the best striker in the world; that way I can finally beat my brother,” he explains. You pause momentarily unsure of how to respond to that.  

I know it probably drives him to have a stronger ego, but at the same time I also believe that someone should be doing something for themselves, not so they can prove to someone else that they’re better or capable.  

“You’re right, it’s not a game. I’m not going to meddle cause it’s not my place, but just remember, your life is not a game either,” you finish. 

The next 10 minutes are spent in silence as you rub out the knots, as you’re done you get up and bid Rin a goodnight.  

() () () () () ()

The next morning, you’re out on the field with your first aid kit. You watch as all the players pile in for endurance training today. You’re watching from the entrance of the hallway making sure you’re keeping a close eye on the players’ legs specifically.  

Most common injuries from soccer are hamstring, ankle, and knee. So got to make sure I’m paying attention to the form on their legs.  

Everyone is taking turns shooting goals against the robotic goalkeeper. Rin comes up and shoots a goal. You smile to yourself noticing his leg already seems much better. You look at Rin and notice he is looking at you. You give a small nod and he pulls his gaze away from you.   

The rest of endurance training goes by smoothly and you’re in the cafeteria having some dinner you made. You’re reading a book on anatomy to better understand the leg muscles to help yourself understand hwo the players could get injured without realizing it. You take a bite of your food and three guys come walking in. You look up and see Sae, Kaiser, and Prince. Youo had recognized them because Ego had mentioned something at the training about them arriving with their weird little icons on the screen.  

Oh boy.  

“Do you know where Ego is?’ Kaiser asks as they walk up to you.  

“Yeah in his office,” you respond.  

“We know that, but where is his office?’ Sae asks this time. You take one more bite of your food and gesture for them to follow you. They follow behind you as Kaiser and Prince are chatting with one another.  

“You’re not Anri, Anri has red hair from what I remember... so who are you?” Sae asks. Both Kaiser and Prince fall silent and you can feel all three pairs of eyes on you.  

“I’m the medic or athletic trainer, whatever you want to call it because I suppose I’m a mix of both.”  

As you continue to walk to Ego’s office y’all end up passing Rin on the way who is staring at his brother. He puts his hand on your shoulder.  

“I need your help tonight, so stop by my room...” he says and then continues walking.  

I guess his thigh is tense again.  

You continue to walk and then Prince speaks up, “So you’re just at their beck and call?”  

“Yep, that’s how it works,” you respond. You can hear Prince hum lowly in response. Y’all finally pull up to Ego’s office.  

“This is it, bye.” You don’t bother for more formality and walk past them the opposite way. 

 Before you get even a step in, Sae stops you, “You sure you’re just the medic?” He asks. Kaiser and Prince behind look at you as well expecting an answer.  

Stupid question really.  

“Yes, I’m more than sure I’m just the medic,” you respond with a smile and then walk off again. You’re walking now walking back to the cafeteria to finish up your food and as you get there you see Bachira eating it.  

Man, I know better than to leave food unattended with guys around. Freaking garbage disposals eat everything.  

“Was it good?” You ask as you grab your drink over Bachira.  

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself, it looked so good. Yes, it was super good,” he responds with a cheeky smile of his.  

You smile yourself because you can’t find it in yourself to be mad at someone who enjoyed your food. “Good, clean up after yourself, I’m going back to my room,” you finish. You walk out of the cafeteria with the book in your hand. As you’re walking back to the room, your phone gets a message.  

Room. Now. My leg hurts.  

- Rin  

You hum to yourself and wonder if you have time for a quick shower.  You decide against it and go over to the room Rin is in. You pass the cafeteria and then make your way to his room. Before you can even open the door, Rin opens it; grabbing your arm he oulls you to the lifting room.  

“Rin, what is going on?” You ask as he closes the door to the lifting room.  

“My leg hurts, remember?” He asks. He was obviously very serious about and wanted something done about it. You hum in response and gesture for him to lay down. He does so without any complaints.  

“Okay what part on your leg hurts?” You ask. Rin shrugged and looked up at you.  

“It hurts everywhere, of course,” he responds.  

Is he a child?  

“Ah I see, okay well let me see what I can do,” you respond and slowly stretch out his leg and start feeling around his leg for knots. After a little bit you don’t feel anything and you stand up. “Rin, I’m not feeling any knots or tensity.... are you sure you’re just not sore?” You ask.  

Rin huffs and almost crosses his arms but manages to keep them at his side. “I’m not stupid,” he responds and stands up.  

“I didn’t say you were, I’m just making sure,” you state as you stand up. He looks at you for a good second and then opens his mouth to speak, but ends up holding back. “Just say what you need to say, Rin.” 

“I’m the best player right?” His gaze suddenly focuses on you intently waiting for a response.  

[rook-laidir]

Democracy won! Here’s more banter!

The poll wasn’t rigged, I swear

Rook: Remember when we thought we just had to track down a mage and stop a ritual?

Harding: Feels like that was a hundred years ago.

Rook: Do you think we’re in over our heads?

Harding: Well, tracking down one ancient god turned into having to kill two of them and another one’s stuck in your head. I think that’s as in over our heads as we can get.

Rook: Well, it’ll make a great story at least. If we live to tell it.

Harding: Rook!

~

Lucanis: The stalls along the docks in Rivain, they remind me of Treviso’s market.

Rook: Yeah. Before…

Lucanis: Treviso will rebuild. The Antivan Crows will see to it. I was actually going to ask if you had any recommendations for spice blends I can find there. You know a lot of the vendors.

Rook: My mother used to run a stall and I’d help out. As for the spices, I’ll introduce you to Rolan. He has the good stuff.

~

Rook: Did you like the spices?

Lucanis: How much do you think it would take to convince him to open a stall in Treviso?

Rook: He’s been there since I was a kid, but you never know. Everyone has a price. And I’ve seen your villa, you can afford it.

~

Lucanis: What did your mother sell on the docks?

Rook: Jewelry. I’d look for shells and shiny stuff on the beach and she’s make jewelry with it.

Lucanis: So you were always a treasure hunter then.

Rook: Guess so. Never really thought of it that way.

~

Davrin: Rook-

Rook: It’s not happening.

Davrin: At some point, you gotta-

Rook: No thank you.

Davrin: You almost drowned in the Necropolis and there’s hardly any water down there in the first place. You gotta learn how to swim.

Rook: Do I, though?

Davrin: Yes, you do.

~

Emmrich: You know, Rook, sometimes certain traumatic events can leave a lasting impression. There might not be any scars, but they can still evoke a physical response.

Rook: Ok?

Emmrich: If there’s anything you need to talk about, I’m always happy to lend an ear.

Rook: Thanks?

Emmrich: Perhaps talking through the experience and processing certain emotions could help you overcome your fear of water.

Rook: (groans) Not you too.

~

Rook: I was tossed off of a ship when I was younger. Back when I was a slave.

Emmrich: Is that why you’re so fearful of swimming?

Rook: My arms were too tired and I couldn’t keep my head above water. I got lucky and floated on some driftwood back to shore. Haven’t really been able to get my head underwater without panicking since.

Emmrich: Thank you for trusting me with this, Rook. Talking about our fears helps us come to terms with them so we can work with them instead of against them.

Rook: Is that what you do with your fear of death?

Emmrich: Not death, dying. And yes.

~

Rook: I had an interesting talk with Rana the other day.

Neve: Oh?

Rook: Something about not even you being able to find me if I hurt you.

Neve: (laughs) She’s a good friend.

~

Rook: So did you and Rana ever…

Neve: Ever what? Work a case together? Plenty.

Rook: You know that’s not what I meant.

Neve: Well, if you ask the question, I might answer it.

Rook: Did you two ever…you know…

Neve: Are you blushing?

Rook: Just put me out of my misery here.

Neve: You asked. And is there a particular reason you’re asking?

Rook: Just wondering if you ever wanted to…you know, again. And if maybe I could…Or I mean we could, I guess…

Neve: Oh really. I think I can arrange that.

~

Taash: You still owe me thirty gold.

Rook: The bet was who could kill more Venatori in the Hall. You killed the demons.

Taash: The Venatori brought them, that still counts.

Rook: Sorry, Taash. The gold’s mine.

Taash: Fine. But next time I’m picking the bet.

~

Taash: Hey. I’m glad you’re a they too.

Rook: Thanks, Taash!

Taash: It’s good to figure this stuff out with people who get it.

Rook: Can’t promise I have all the answers, but I’m happy to help.

~

Bellara: Did you catch up on “Crossed Daggers and Hearts?”

Rook: Still can’t believe what happened to Ricardo.

Bellara: What happened to…Rook, did you read ahead?

Rook: Sorry, I got invested. Did you not get to that part yet?

Bellara: No! What happened to Ricardo?

Rook: You’re gonna have to find out for yourself.

Bellara: Can I borrow your copy? I promise I won’t lose it this time.