#ever after high next chapter

[silverthelovebug]

Recent art dump. I don’t. I don’t know.

[silverthelovebug]

FINALLY.

Haii !!! Hello !!! Me !!! I do !!!!!! There’s like 5 fans of them in total I’ve seen …

My excuse to drop a bunch of pics of them ,,

(When I say a bunch, I mean only 2. They don’t. They don’t have that much screen time together.)

I DID MAKE A FANKID FOR THEM THOUGH !!!

Her name is Maple Hatter and she’s about as kooky as you can get from a Mad Hatter and a Child-Eating Witch :3

She has a pet dormouse named Matcha and and !!!

She’s dating Raven’s kid, Indigo. :3

anyone else ship Ginger and Maddie or will I have to stand alone on this hill

[fantasticalchaos]

The First Thronecoming

Chapter 4: Absence of Leave

Summary: “There is plot” the narrator whispers, typing up this chapter. “More specifically, side-plot!” In which, at the dead of night, there is something else going on in the background. A call for a peculiar leave of absence. But for what? [Crossposted on AO3, Inspired by SayuriCorner’s TWST x EAH AU & LovelyLlama’s Thronecoming Headcanons]

A/N: Sorry for not posting Chapter 4 in the usual format I do here on Tumblr! I was busy crossposting these works onto here cause 1) in case AO3 crashes (which it did) and 2) because enjoyment on other platforms!

P.S: (09/15/24) THE AO3 IS DOWN AGAIN!!! AND I FORGOT TO POST THIS ONE LOL! Also I had to reuse the version that I saved in docs since the website is down 😅

EDIT: WTF ITS BACK WHEN I POSTED LMAOOO 😂

⬅️ Ch. 3 | AO3 | Ch. 5 ➡️

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[Location: Headmaster Office]

Even late at the dead of night, the elegant beauty of the Headmaster’s Office never fails to impress those in there. The flickering glow waving off the candles and chandelier. The paintings of the Great Seven smiling proudly in their shining splendour and glory. Not even a speck of dust can be found at all here from the top to bottom!

{Such elegance indeed! How befitting for a headmaster of such a prestigious academy!}

“What do you two mean that you are having a break for the next few weeks?!”

And there is the Headmaster with his hands raising in the sky. Crowley blubbers inelegantly through his sobs. Tears swelling and spilling onto his desk. A smooth wooden desk, now dampened by tears.

{Very unfitting his appearance and status as a Headmaster…}

“Why would two members of my dear, respectable staff want to leave?”

Sitting across his desk, is an elderly sorceress and a middle aged man. The elderly sorceress leans over and grumpily says to her colleague. Her cerulean blue eyes narrowed as she watches her crying supervisor.

“I knew we should’ve cursed him or better yet ditched when we had the time, Giles.”

“Now, now Baba Yaga,” the man whispers back gently, placing a hand on hers. “He’s a friend of mine, let me handle this.”

Baba Yaga rolls her eyes, but leans back in her chair. She lets him go at talking sense to the blubbering crow-man. Giles had a point; he and Crowley were long time friends. How far that friendship has surely been taken to the level where Giles is confident in dealing with this crow’s antics. Truly, Giles has the patience of a saint!

Giles turns to Crowley. The latter was touching up his tears with a handkerchief in his hand.

{Where in Ever After did he got that handkerchief?!}

I have no idea either Brooke! 🤷‍♀️

“It’s just a few days Dire, we won’t be gone for that long.” He reasons, tilting his glasses up in one hand. Giles places his other arm on the crying crow-man’s cloak. He gives a quick shoulder rub as his friend glances back up.

“But why?” The crow-man sniffles. Dabbing the last of the few teardrops with his handkerchief, he brings down his hand. “What could possibly be the reason for such a sudden, and long absence?”

{Okay, at this point this is starting to look like a parent consoling a child who’s about to go to work! Or on a business trip… Something along those lines.}

“Well, that is a little more complicated to explain….” Giles rubs the back of his neck. A slight nervous chuckle fell out. “We might as well show you for ourselves; Baba Yaga, the invites.”

He turns to Baba Yaga, who nods promptly.

Baba Yaga places 2 pieces of scrolls onto Crowley’s desk. The Headmaster tilts his head. Even with the upper half of his face obscured by his corvid skull-like mask, his neon yellow eyes glowed with anticipation.

Passing them over the table, the Headmaster picks up one of the scrolls. Indeed, there was a small attachment having both of the formers’ names (separately) on them. The scrolls, embalmed with a stamp in the shade of magenta. Upon the stamp, an etched logo of a mini key against a lock in the shape of a heart.

Unrolling both - one with his hand and the other with magic - the scrolls unwrapped themselves. Inside, the contents were as presentable as it was before. The handwriting, written so pristine and legible in its curves. Their strokes are sharp and to the point. There is even a small illustration of the same logo drawn and painted. Almost, just almost, this rivals that of the style of the Sea Witch.

“But of course, the Sea Witch does it better!” thought Crowley.

Headmaster Crowley began to read.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

To the addressed, Greetings! If you have received this message, you are royally invited to join as a newly appointed member to the Council of Ever After.

The Council of Ever After is founded as a community organisation filled with many fairytale representatives since the exile of the former Queen of the White Kingdom, Snow White.

Our mission is to explore beyond our destinies with new ideas in order to bring more life and freedom to everyone. In order to do this, we royally invite other fairytales such as yourself to help provide us with your enlightenment and wisdom. Moreover, we intend to reverse the damage of the original big bad destiny ideologies created and enforced by Milton Grimm and his associates.

We are well-aware that this will take time out of your schedule. Additionally, your newfound position will also require you to make more than one trip as well as stay longer in Ever After to fulfil your duties. Nevertheless, we have faith in you and your abilities!

Your attendance is fairy mandatory. Our first meeting with you will commence on XX/XX. The meeting will take place in the former Ever After High. Precisely at 8AM, so don’t be late when the bell strikes 8.

Fairest Regards,

Council of Ever After 🩷

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Everything went still for a moment.

It was peaceful. Agonizingly peaceful. All eyes were on Crowley, awaiting the verdict of these invitations. Crowley’s beady eyes blinked through his mask. His head bobbing slightly up and down the scroll a few times. Slowly, he pulls away the scroll, letting it rest neatly onto the table.

“I see…” He muses at last. His talon nails touch and tapped underneath his chin. “The Council of Ever After.. ”

So Ever After has a council to represent themselves now, huh? Not a king! Not a queen! Nor a group contained that of royal blood! A whole community of different tales ruling together!

Crowley remembered on the news that day! The day when King White (husband and Prince Charming to Snow White) refused the offer of ascension since the dethronement (and divorce) of his wife. After seeing what his daughter endured, he believes that they need to rest elsewhere.

Somewhere far far away from home. Additionally, he believes that it’s also his time to reflect on his distant relationship with Apple. Perhaps, by using this time, he could try to catch up and make time with one another. Just like old times once upon a time! For Apple’s sake!

{It was a giant field day for the news back home too, I’ll tell you that much!}

Oh shoot… I can’t imagine how chaotic narrating all of that was like.

{Yeah, and… I’m not supposed to say this here, but… There was also some high tea going around kingdoms about King White.}

Oooh~! What kind of tea?

{That he lack the skills in kingdom management compared to Snow. More speci-fair-ally, the more political and economical aspects of ruling a kingdom. At best, he can look the part, but not act it! There was more to the glitz and glamour towards managing a kingdom in of itself!}

…Oh my gosh. That’s huge!

{I know right?! A total major fairy-fail!

Anyways… The number of royalty that lives in the Ever After World is big, but not too common. Surely, there would have been a royal family willing to take charge in the former kingdom. Or at least siege an opportunity to form an alliance for a kingdom or two to share.

Instead, many tales decided to help one another in ruling. Ranging from those of royalty, to the lowly commonfolk and peasantry. Humans to fairies to mythical creatures that live out in the Enchanted Forest! All different classes, in rank and in species. Working altogether!}

And yet, only one thought racked through the crow-man’s brain.

“Oh Sevens, why can’t my students be more like this?” Crowley’s mind ponders, massaging his forehead. Quivering mentally like a parent lamenting over their own children and their shenanigans.

Even before the flourish of transfers, the NRC kids were a stubborn bunch. They snark at best, and argue or even throw hands at worst. Whenever they join hands and unite, there’s often something to gain for their own interests. Just a simple, personal matter that would benefit them.

Yes, there are a few students who are exceptions to this. Even the Prefect and their tanuki-cat he allowed were in charge (though mainly the former) of rounding up the troublemakers!

And yet, with all of these factors combine, there is high brewing of trouble! He can’t seem to figure out why nor how he can do more…

His students… Oh, his poor students.

{Oh the irony…}

The sweet irony…

Dire’s eyes looking over to Giles and Baba Yaga. Both eyes staring at him. One expectantly. The other impatiently.

“Well?”

“Well… as your benevolent headmaster, I suppose you two can go back to Ever After to fulfil your council duties.” He decreed, “Consider this jury duty! After all, you two were chosen for a reason.”

Sighs of relief came.

“Thank you so much, Dire!”

“Thank you Crowley!”

“Ah, by the way,” Crowley interrupted, “Did you two have signed-“

Plop!

“Already done it.” Baba Yaga stated matter of fact, slamming down pieces of paper onto his desk. “We already wrote our leave request a while ago. I brought an extra copy in case you forgot…”

An offended gasp came from Crowley, his talons touching his chest. How dare?!?

“Of course I didn’t forget! I am a very busy headmaster!” He defended with such emotion in his voice. Surprisingly, the most emotion since his outburst at the beginning. “What makes you think—”

Spritz of water flew onto and over his face.

“AH!”

He stands up from his seat. His talon-hands flare up and out. As he wipes off the excess water that went on his mask and outfit, Giles snaps his head to Baba Yaga. In her hand, is a spray bottle filled at the brim with water.

“Baba Yaga.” Giles placed his arms on his sides.

“What?” She defends herself, bringing her spray bottle closer to her. Her grip on the handle, on the other hand, remains set. “He was asking for it!”

Giles pinches his nose, tiredly sighing before getting up from his chair.

”It’s just plain water! He’ll live!”

“Doesn’t matter; Come on, and help me.”

With a begrudging sigh, she complied. She flew over and grabbed a towel and helped clean up the mess. Unwillingly. The mess that is not only on their boss, but also on his desk. And on the floor.

{Don’t forget his crocodile tears from earlier!}

Oh shoot, almost forgot about that! Thanks Brooke!

{Anytime!}

“So, I’m assuming that is everything?” Crowley asks, patting down the last spill on him. Both of which the two nod.

With a nonchalant wave in his hand, Crowley continued. “That will be all then! You both are dismissed.”

“Finally,” Baba Yaga blurts out loud. Not any hint of shame in her voice. The stool she is sitting on, turns away from her colleagues and towards the door.

Whatever it is telekinesis, magic, or some fairytale magical force that levitates her stool, it pulls the elderly lady up and away. As she enters the hallway, leaving the two behind. Not too far to hear, she makes a slight comment.

“Thought this meeting would never end.”

With the two left in the room, Giles coughs into his fist he made to get rid of the awkwardness. The tension in air, if you will.

“Oh, don’t mind her,” Giles rubs the back of his neck. His eyes downcast onto his shoes. “She means well, I’m sure.”

A curt nod from his friend came.

“Always having something good to say about others, isn’t it Giles.” Crowley complimented.

In his mind, however, another older man forms. That man is draped in a deep blue, one like the night sky devoid of light. A stern expression, one that lacked Giles’s warmth and whimsy. The golden eyes of the crown narrows.

Under his breath, he scoffed, “ Even to those who don't deserve it…”

“Indeed, Dire. You know me so well!” Giles said, unaware of his friend’s muttered quip. He waves a hand, his eyes shifting from his sneakers to the purple carpet.

“What can I say, I’m so kind after all!” Crowley puffs his chest out with a wide grin. His sense of pride swelling once again from such a compliment. His shoulders faltered as he heard his friend yawn.

“Well, it’s getting late!” Giles brushes a part of his hair away. Another heavy yawn escapes his mouth. He turns around, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dire!”

The sneakers padded through the carpet as Giles made his way to the doors. His hand lays itself onto the handle. In a quick swipe, he pulls the door handle.

The door opens.

. . .

..

.

“Giles.”

Giles stops. His feet a moment away from passing the door. He lifts his head over to Crowley. There was no smile on the latter’s face and tone. As if the joy was snuffed out of Crowley. Just a straight-lipped face looked unreadable. He almost feels like a different person entirely.

Hands gripping tight to his staff. Eyes studying Giles form intently from head to toe. Dire said, his face poised, “You and Baba Yaga be safe out there. It is an important job after all.”

The tone, calm and even. Yet at the same time, heavy. An anchor within an otherwise normal farewell. Almost too normal. Not many times does the Headmaster drop the dramatics.

This is one of those times.

And yet… Giles gives out a smile. A small, yet knowing smile underneath his greying beard.

“We will, Dire. No need to worry about us!” Was what came out of Giles as he turned away. With a wave, he added, “Farewell!”

The door shuts, and all is quiet once more. The invites and documents, being Crowley’s only company left. The headmaster sighs, sitting back down at his table.

“Goodbye Giles.”

Glancing out, pass through the painted frames and through the window. The night, clear and shimmering with dots and stars. All sparking at the moon, a waxing crescent with the rest obscured by darkness.

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[Later that night…]

Ring! Ring! Ring!

A grumble echoes as a figure arises from his bed. Their fluffy cat once rolled up like a cinnamon roll, now stirred up and awake. Lights illuminating the once dark room. They watched as their owner left their shared resting spot. Not wanting to be left out, the latter hops off and tails after them.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The figure walks over to the ringing phone. When they reached it, they stopped in their tracks. The ringing continues ceaselessly, prompting the figure to massage their forehead.

“Great Seven… What time is it? Who would be calling at this forsaken hour?”

“Meow.”

Feeling one of their legs being wrapped in soft fur, they look down to see their cat purring up at them. The figure smiles a bit, feeling a sense of comfort and strength to deal with this minor setback.

Kneeling down, they picked up their cat in their arms. Cradling them as they took a deep breath. Their emotional support companion. They picked up the phone, bringing it to their face.

“Hello—”

“Why, good evening Trien!” Cheerful greetings phase on through the phone. Trien sighs at the voice. “How are you doing on this beautiful night?”

“Crowley, you better have a good reason for calling me late at night.”

On the other end of the phone, Crowley stilled. Sweat spilling from his forehead as he fiddles with his white collar.

“Ah, yes! I have an utmost reason to call you!”

“Tell me then, Dire.”

“…”

“Tell me, what could it possibly be to talk about at this ungodly hour?”

Perhaps the Headmaster realised that maybe… Just maybe totally this wasn’t a good time to tell Trien about the increased workload for the next coming days….

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⬅️ Prev | Next ➡️

A/N: And that’s the last of the current chapters I have crossposted here! I’m so glad I have these here when the crash happened lol

I’ll be continuing on my writing the next chapter, so please be patient until the next one comes out! Thank you for reading! Until next time!

[thelilylav]

The Scent of Roses: Aesthetic

~

A brief dump from my Pinterest board for this fic in chronological order for the story (some of the references haven't happened yet but oh boy are they coming up!)

[rebelcharmings]

Apple White is beyond excited for her first year at Hogwarts. But invasive questions and certain thoughts keep dampening her mood.

[stormcloudsandshadows]

No one:

Me at 230 am: hm…… Nedzu.

[gumjester]

Milton examines the Storybook.

[gremlinshatephilosophers]

Writing update! Here’s a snippet of the last chapter (how many fics will I bring up the leather shirt incident in, only time will tell)

It’s 99% done now, just have to finish the ending of chapter 15 and do some edits throughout.

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're a Star

Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!? WC this chap- 11.5k (longestt)

Warnings- WOW this chap has it all, heed the warnings - filming porn masturbation ( m) oral (m and f receiving) spit kink HIGH KEY, mentions of cum, multiple rounds, switching positions, size kink, swallowing (M and F) explicit sex, feral Gojo, squirting, mating press, tummy bulges, lots of fucking goddamn- Gojo is whipped mutual pining, obsessive Gojo. Angsty asf in places, lots of jealousy

A/N- Taglist closed- This was so smut filled I took MULTIPLE breaks aha, maybe my most smut filled one ever? don't read in public actually - please comment/rb if you enjoy <3

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Four>>> (coming soon)

Chapter Three

You can’t escape the desire you have, even in your dreams.

Waking up cumming was not just new, it was ridiculous, and you didn’t even know that happened until this morning. Waking up with your cunt throbbing around nothing, and gushing arousal, as your dream was filled with Satoru kissing you, fucking into you with that thick, huge cock, hitting spots deep inside that felt real even in your dreams.

That’s it, sweetheart, cum all around my cock, hmm? Lemme feel her- there you go, baby.

That had done too much to your sleeping brain apparently, because you couldn’t stop cumming either, crying out and whining when you’d touched your cunt and felt the slick coating everything. After shaking violently from it, you’d peeked and seen a good morning text from him, all while you had to go get cleaned up, trying to compose yourself before you texted back.

Jenna calls now, shaking you out of your reverie, and the two of you plan lunch the next day. “You’re having dinner with him?”

“Yeah, but as a… friend?”

“Oh baby, you’re too cute.” You sigh, leaning back as you stir up some dough for cookies you were baking later, the sunlight filtering in through the little kitchen window you have open wide. You peer out into the sky, thinking it’s not as pretty as Satoru’s eyes.

“I do really feel things, but Jenna I can’t not be near him, if it’s as a friend, then it’s as a friend.” Jenna sighs louder than you did. “Are we having a sighing contest?”

“I’ll win any loud moan contest, but your sighs are cuter.”

“Jenna!”

You both laugh then, and a beep sounds on your phones. “Ah, looks like he’s going to stream. Gonna go watch your friend?”

“You’re an instigator. Maybe.” She giggles again, as you finish preheating the oven, scooping the dough onto the parchment paper.

“Be careful, you’re a grown woman, and things change, but don’t forget yourself, okay?” You pause then, emotions catching in your throat at her words. “I’m not trying to be the ‘mom’ I swear.”

“I know, Jenna. I love you, see you soon?” You end the call after she says goodbye, popping the cookies in the oven and turning them on. You set up your laptop, deciding to do some work for the weekend on a project your friend hired you for, but the temptation of seeing Satoru keeps nagging at your mind.

The man certainly has a pretty cock, but you think it’s the way he looks at the camera that fucks you up, it’s probably why he’s so good at it, his job. And he clearly enjoyed it, even though you know he was having a little difficulty with the last shoot, perhaps he prefers solo lately? To think you had anything to do with that was foolish, so you wouldn’t allow the thought.

The timer beeps, you stand up and stretch, turning off the timer and oven then, grabbing a bright red oven mitt and pulling out the sheet pan, smelling delectable, the steam hot and rising, scent filling your nostrils. You loved to bake, especially when you were stressed, and you suppose you were, having feelings for a man currently stroking his cock for the camera was conflicting at best.

You keep trying to tell yourself that it’s not feelings, that you’re inexperienced and confused, but you know you’re lying to yourself. You eye that silver laptop again, remembering the last time, the image of him sucking his own cum off his fingers is burned deep, a core memory at this fucking point. You shake it off, then sigh, giving into temptation.

You’d just tip him a hundred again to be supportive, you tip Jenna all the time, it’s fine, it’s something a friend can do.

Right?

You log in to the onlyfans platform, the black and blue OF making you just a bit nervous, clicking on the stream then, taking several breaths as you click on it. Fully prepared to be soaking wet, the sight that greets you is not Satoru stroking his cock, it’s another woman, her thighs spread, while Satoru runs circles on her clit. She’s propped on his lap, her head against his bare collarbones, moaning.

Your heart shatters then, and it shouldn’t, no you’re so stupid!

You are Satoru’s friend, and it was your choice to check his stream, to tip and be supportive but ultimately you know what you potentially signed up for. You saw him with Jenna, and for whatever reason that had not bothered you- maybe because it was before he touched you, looked at you like that.

The girl in front of him has two of his fingers shoved deep as he has her feet propped up on his thighs while you blink away stupid tears that shouldn’t exist, there’s no anger but there’s so much jealousy you shock yourself. You’re a girl’s girl, you’re supportive, what is this!? You’d like to rip her right off his lap, and you hate yourself for it right now.

You shake it off, looking away as the cookies fill your home with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate. It should be a cheery morning, but you can’t even focus on anything but the conflict in your heart. You stare back again, hearing Satoru’s soft, husky voice, watching all the comments in the chat while he grips one of her breasts in his big hand.

Her head falls forward, and the way you vividly imagine it being you instead has you heating up, in more ways than excitement, embarrassment - you’d never be that girl for him, you wish you could be that way. But Satoru and you together felt too special, especially to share, how could you fall when this was your idea!?

You can’t be upset.

You take a breath, shutting your eyes and looking away as his voice resonates through the laptop’s speakers, echoicing in the quiet. If you were crazy enough you’d say it sounded different than with you, that he let go more, that you were even wetter when he touched you, but you’re starting to think you’re delusional.

“So, we wanna hit this spot right here, for any men watching, you’re gonna curl up here, that spot feels good, doesn’t it honey?” Your jaw sets, swiping tears from under your glasses now.

“Ah, y-yes Gojo!” Her moan echoes too much, he pauses then, the squelching of her cunt stops, it’s all quiet as he just stares at the camera like he’s staring at you, his lips parted, eyes widening just a bit, but there’s no way.

You’ve lost it.

You tip him the hundred as you’d intended to, quickly shutting your laptop and damn near hyperventilating. What’s wrong with you!? His job is to fuck women, so you saw him touching one, what do you expect? The man had a gang bang scene just yesterday, and dinner with you tonight. You have to shove it all down then, you have to remember what he does.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t special though, for you.

Did he do things off camera with-

Stop it!

The phone rings a few minutes later and you just stare at it, lost in your own head, wishing you could compartmentalize it so much better, that you could separate the two. You were so stupid for engaging and knowing, but at the same time, to not have Satoru seems like something you can’t compute, even if it is just as a friend, even if you can’t be sexual.

Maybe you read it all wrong, that night.

Satoru calls again, shaking out his hand as his co star is now fucking herself quite expertly on a dildo, since Satoru can’t get hard for anything - it’s worse today than yesterday - he decided to turn it into a guided masturbation video. At least his fucking fingers still work, despite jerking off to you so much his cock is raw, remembering your lips surrounding it.

Even fingering her he’s picturing your pussy, fuck he wants to just bury his face in it again, he knows the two of you are ‘friends’ or whatever the fuck this was, but it’s exceedingly difficult when it’s affecting him like this. He keeps wondering if you all sleep together, will it make it worse or better? Was he all in his head, as if you would go for someone like him if he did date.

What was he thinking lately?

He saw your name in the stream and his stomach had dropped - and why, you’re just a friend, it was fine if you wanted to see a bit of a stream and tip, he knows it is to be supportive. You’re supportive and sweet, so sweet, god your taste and scent still haunt him, he’s been dying to see you tonight, in any capacity, but when he saw the name he felt awful.

He only wants to fuck you, touch you, but he has a career and commitments, to get her to agree to this instead of fucking was already difficult and he was slowly losing it as his cock kept refusing to work. Even if he could get it up, he didn’t like the idea of fucking someone else at all, after the debacle of a gang bang yesterday. But even touching someone was doing nothing for him.

Now he saw you leave so quickly, and decided to gently smack his co star’s ass, smiling as he bent her over, murmuring he needs a break. She eagerly took over the spotlight, the opportunity was a huge one for her anyway as a smaller star. Satoru keeps staring at your picture, sighing as he notices the little reflections in your glasses, touching the screen softly.

You saw him touching someone, did you care, did it bother you-

Why is he thinking like this!?

He calls again, and you answer, much to his relief, as his hands let go of the bathroom counter he’d gripped too tightly. “Hey Satoru, sorry I popped in, I thought it was um… you…”

“Jerking off?” He finishes the sentence, leaning back against his wall and shutting his eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t know you did um… shoots at home. You should get back to it, why are you calling me, silly? Looks like um… you were, ah… doing… good.” You’re breaking out every voice, cursing yourself quietly, why can’t you just speak? You’re shoving it all down, trying not to cry - there’s no reason to!

“Ah, yeah I thought I’d try to teach people how to make women cum, they fail often you know.” He tries to make it light, as his stomach clenches, a sick feeling when he hears your forced laugh.

“That’s very true. Someone should give you a Nobel prize for this work.” He snorts then, as the laughter becomes a little more genuine. “No you’re amazing at that. Why not show them how?”

“You thought I was amazing, hmm?” His tone changes, cock throbbing when he just hears your sigh, picturing you vividly in his mind, while the sounds of his co-star echo, moans and squelching wetness that does nothing for him.

Didn’t he used to enjoy all of this?

“You know I thought that.” Your heart pounds, you have to remember, Satoru is amazing and just because you’re hurt, you can’t be mad or upset at him. He’s not yours in any way, even if you’re starting to wish he was. “Isn’t your co-star waiting?”

“She’s occupying herself fine. It’s not… sex…” Because I can’t get hard unless it’s you. “It’s just a tutorial.”

“Oh,” your relief shouldn’t exist, you shouldn’t care, but to hear that does make you slump over just a bit, before taking a breath. “Do you want to do dinner another day, it’s already four-”

“No, no!” Satoru panics then, since when does smooth pornstar Satoru freak the fuck out and act desperate? “I mean, no. I want to see you tonight. I have time to shower and get there.”

He wants to wash any of this girl off, frantically actually, he wants you all over him, even if it’s just him pleasing you more. But moreso, even if you just wanted to have dinner and that was it, he’d be happy, though the thought of fucking you with his fingers while you eat dessert is insanely tempting, making his tip drool precum quite annoyingly as he glares in the mirror.

“Okay good, I was looking forward to it.” Your whisper is soft and genuine, as he sees the red on his cheeks, the black pupils, just thinking of you shifts his entire face.

Fuck.

“I’ll start getting ready, I think it’s time you see I can get dressed up.” You tease softly, swiping stupid tears and trying to plaster a bright smile on your face as you stare in your mirror. Your eyes are puffy, the color drained from your face, lips trembling - just seeing that has affected your entire face, taking off your glasses so you don’t even have to look at yourself for a moment.

“I bet you’re gonna kill me, you look so pretty any time I see you,” his voice is hoarse, as he spills the vulnerable truth, and the two of you shut your eyes, leaning against your bathroom counters. “But I’m excited to see you dolled up.”

“Are you, Satoru?” You try to hide the insecurities haunting you, hearing his sexy, heavy sigh on the other line.

“Very excited. I’ll see you soon, sweets.”

The two of you hang up and you sigh, eyeing the clock now - you have about two hours to get ready, and you’re so nervous your palms are sweaty and numb. It may just be two ‘friends’ having dinner, but you want to shove that image back you just saw, and focus, and try to look beautiful tonight.

Satoru’s own hands are numb, as he curses, slamming a hand on his forehead, unable to think of anything but you, barely able to pull himself together. When he walks out, Suguru is there, nibbling in the kitchen, raising a brow at him. “You good, Satoru?”

“Fine, I… you wanna finish that for me?” He gestures to the room, while Suguru sips down water. “I think I have a kind of date or something.”

“A date!? Huh?” Satoru just looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t think it’s a date, it’s friends or something? Maybe... I don’t know. Is dinner a date if it's not with a costar?” Suguru rolls his violet eyes, sighing as he washes his hands now, patting them dry with a paper towel.

“You’re acting weird as fuck lately, that cute little good girl got you simping?” Satoru scoffs, rolling his blue eyes now.

“Suguru, just do me a solid.” Satoru pouts, earning Suguru’s scoff.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me one.” Suguru and Satoru enter the room, as Satoru eases the transition, the notes in the chat are going insane, he can’t help but exhale in relief, before pausing at the thought.

Was there some way to save his malfunctioning dick?

*****

Satoru whistles when he meets you at the restaurant that evening, running just a little late, you're sitting there nibbling on your thumb, peering at the menu when he arrives. Your eyes light up behind a different pair of glasses, these have cute red rims, matching the red dress you're wearing that's making him ache.

He hasn't seen you in something like this, not that you weren't always pretty, but when you stand up and he sees how it fits your body it almost takes him everything to hold back. Vividly picturing bending you right over that table and fucking you in front of the entire restaurant, gripping the red shimmery fabric that drapes across every line and curve of that body.

He can't form a word, notoriously known for never shutting up, but he can't think of anything to say, when you shyly look down, hands fidgeting in front of your lap, and he’s standing there sputtering. It’s awkward even, until the waitress comes up and smiles over at Satoru, gesturing to a seat, saying - ‘This must be the friend you were waiting for!’

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, you look beautiful.” He says finally, pressing a kiss to your cheek, feeling it heat up against his lips. You shake your head with a sweet turn of your lips, kissing his cheek in turn.

“You’re fine, Satoru, I still haven’t learned LA time.” He chuckles at that just a bit, sitting across from you now, before deciding to sit next to you instead, shoulders brushing together.

“This feels more comfy? It feels all formal the other way.”

“Does it feel too… date like?” He falters then, because that was not it, but the doubt has crept in on your face, when the waitress asks you all for your order, and he has to blink back the confusion. “What do you suggest?”

“Want me to order for you?” You nod shyly, god the submissive nature of you makes him ache in way too many ways, knowing how perfect of a girl you’d be for him in every aspect. “We’ll have this,” he says, pointing to the menu now. “And bring two glasses of champagne please.”

“Are we celebrating?” You tease, handing the waitress the menu, Satoru chuckles a bit, shaking his head while you take in how handsome he looks, brushing your fingers against his suit jacket. “You look so good, Satoru.”

“Thank you, sweets.” He holds your hand then, fuck it feels too good, pressing it against the dark red suit jacket that truly only he could pull off, black button down shirt left open, showing enough of his chest to make anyone die over. Your eyes look at it now, a few of the chains he wears resting along the strong muscles, settling between his collarbones. “You’re making me look bad, wearing in that dress.”’

“No way!”

“Absolutely, you are. You’re so pretty, fuck…” He’s brushing back a tendril, as you eye him, that look that drives him insane, the look that’s ruined him since he met you. He tries to smirk, to act calm, teasing, “I look that good?”

“Yes, shit. Sorry.” He laughs softly, shaking his head when you pull your hand back gently.

“We match, great minds you know.”

“Indeed, we clearly coordinated telepathically!” He laughs then, and it's just like that first night, when you and him just hit it the fuck off. It’s comfortable, it’s fun - so fun - that people smile at the two of you, as you laugh like friends for years. It’s how it feels, like you’ve known him, a way you can’t explain.

But you wished it was just the friendliness, not the heat in your tummy when he wipes a droplet of clear, bubbly champagne from his plump lips, if every time his thigh brushed yours you didn’t melt. Someone comes up then, a really pretty girl, and you feel Satoru stiffen a bit, making you tense, sipping on the tart champagne and averting your eyes a bit.

“Gojo, it's been what, a year?!” He smiles with ease, standing and kissing her cheek, hugging her tightly.

“It has been, shit, how you been?” It’s all very Hollywood, their exchange, you feel you’ll never figure it out, the two years you’ve been here after relocating and you still couldn’t get being kissy on everyone.

It makes you think of him earlier, his fingers in that-

Stop that!

He’s saying your name you errantly realize, you plaster on a smile as she looks at you curiously, eyeing you up and down. “Co-star?”

“No, no, she’s my friend. She’s a good girl.” He winks down at you, and she giggles then, holding her hand out.

“It’s awesome to meet you!”

“You too. Are you um…”

“A former co-star, yeah. Satoru is the best in the industry.” Ah, so she fucked him, too. You want to be petty and scowl and you hate yourself for it more.

You never, ever are like this.

You never have been.

She’s touching his shoulder and making you sick, when your eyes catch a familiar face, a man standing with a group of other men, smiling over at you, he’s one of your co-workers that is always working. You wave at him while Satoru finishes his conversation, and he adjusts his tan jacket, touching the arm of one of the men, letting them go as he walks to you.

You tense just a bit, while the girl finally leaves, and Satoru’s sitting next to you once more, as his phone rings. He turns it off, jaw tensing when a blond man takes your hand and bends down at the waist, like some old school gentleman, pressing a kiss to the back of your delicate wrist, the pretty bracelet slides down your arm as he does it, and he watches your blush.

The fuck.

He was trying his best to get that girl to go on, so he could get back to talking to you, but now some random guy has your attention, and Satoru doesn’t like it, not one fucking bit. “Nanami, this is Satoru.”

“Nanami, huh?” He leans back, flipping off his phone again, you look at him curiously.

“Need to grab that?” You ask, and he shakes his head, swiping it off once more, ignoring his manager while this Nanami guy eyes you behind green glasses.

“You look stunning, is that alright to say?” You giggle again, Satoru glares at you, how dare you giggle at him!?

He told you that you looked beautiful. Did you giggle?

He wants to punch this smirking man in the face.

What’s wrong with him!?

“Thank you, Nanami, I guess you don’t see me too dressed up at work, huh? You always dress so well.”

“Oh stop, you’re flattering me. And this is your…” He trails off, looking at Gojo, who has to wipe the glare off his face for a moment.

Say it, Satoru.

More than a friend.

You look at him then, as if you’re waiting for him to say that, to say something, while Nanami’s lips quirk up just a bit, making Satoru want to smack him again. He takes a breath, smiling then instead of glaring, but his hand is on the small of your back. “We’ve become close friends, very quickly.”

“Oh? I’ve known her for a long time,” Nanami says, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. You look at Satoru, whose phone starts ringing again, and he curses, rolling his blue eyes. “Need to take that?”

“It’s my manager, they have horrible timing. I’ll be right back.” He murmurs, you smile understandingly, while his manager trips on him about earlier.

He knows his dick doesn’t work, and now he knows he hates touching anyone, but he doesn’t know how to explain it to anyone when he has no fucking clue why this is happening. He’s obsessed with a sweet, shy little thing that is currently getting hit on by a dude buffer than him.

Maybe he’d be good for you.

Satoru is too petty to admit it though, glaring instead while his manager goes on and on. “Listen, I get it, you need content.”

“We need you with women, a lot of your viewers are men, they’re not gonna tune in to watch you solo. Find someone that works for you, I don’t care who at this point, but we’re just not gonna make profit if you keep turning down roles. Or, I heard, you shoved a girl off on Geto.”

“I didn’t… shove her off, I just…” Satoru frowns again, the blond man is sitting next to you in the other seat, your eyes are on Satoru however they turn away when he catches your gaze.

He just wants to fuck you right in front of that fucking man now. God, if you would be interested in starring in something, you’d make bank, it’s not just his obsession, your pussy is the prettiest one he’s seen. Your tits, your body, they’re all so sexy, and your pretty face with those glasses? You’d kill any sexy nerd shoot there was.

“Satoru!”

Shit.

He can’t get the vision of you in some slutty ass librarian outfit from running through his head.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll try to get something going, I mean I was gonna do a solo tonight anyway.”

“That’s fine, but remember you’re a lot more than just Onlyfans. You’re a star, Satoru, that comes with a certain level of appearances. So whatever is going on, you gotta get it together, or we’re both not making shit.” He sighs, leaning back against the wall now, eyes going back to you, giggling at something he’s said.

He’s too close to you.

Why does he mind so much?

“I’ll get a shoot done.” The words feel horrible, the thought of fucking anyone else just seems like an impossibility, and he doesn’t know how to compute it in his mind.

What did you do?

“Alright, I expect some video with a woman - not with Suguru. Though…”

“I’m not fucking Suguru.” He chuckles as people look at him a bit, running a hand through his white locks. “He is pretty but not my type.”

“He’s gonna be your type if you turn down every other actress.”

“Ugh.”

“Mmhmm, talk to you later.” He hangs up, frowning at his phone, trying to gather himself before he does something so stupid, jealousy filling him and for what?

You’re talking. You’re not his. He had his fingers buried in a girl this morning, why does he care if you did anything? He knows you’re not that girl, though, but you choose to be with him. It makes him feel far, far more special than he’d admit, the fact that you want him, that you trust him. Was he mistaking the look in your eyes, was it just desire there?

“If you are single, would you mind a date sometime? I haven’t had so much fun talking in a long time.” Nanami says softly, making you look down shyly, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks from the soft lights hanging above you in the dimly lit, pretty restaurant. “Am I too bold?”

“No, no. I just haven’t been on a date in forever.” Satoru feels like he’s been punched in the chest as he hears, nearing the table and acting like he didn’t wanna yank you to him and kiss you then and there.

But he chose to tell him you’re friends, that’s what you were, a friend he wants to fuck all night in every position imaginable. Then lick his own cum out of your cunt, abused from his cock, and fuck you all morning. God he can’t stop thinking about them all, have you dragged on his face, his hands on your waist, let you ride his mouth till he couldn’t breathe.

Real fucking friendly.

Satoru’s hands grip and release while he hears your answer, “I will think about it, Mr. Nanami, it may be fun.”

That’s almost a yes.

Fuck.

“Think about what?” He asks with a smile, leaned back in the booth, a hand brushing your bare thigh under the table, where your dress had slid up from you sitting, he feels it tense while he drags his fingertips across it, eyeing you then.

Was Satoru trying to confuse you more? You look at him again, some toxic part of you that you don’t recognize wants him to claim you, what the fuck was that!? You have never been that way, you’ve never been a lot of things until you met this blue-eyed man, however, and even with a handsome Nanami flirting, you can’t get Satoru’s moans out of your mind.

Snap out of it!

“A date with your lovely friend. You two are just friends?” He looks between the two of you now, and Satoru opens his mouth, but what can he say?

It’s what you ‘are’.

Would he be worthy of dating you if he wanted to, when his job was fucking other women? You didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be the only one, fuck you literally had become his one singular, consuming thought. He smiles good naturedly, eyeing you now, watching you bite your lower lip, teeth digging into the plush of it, while your thighs tremble just a bit.

“We just met at a party a few weeks ago, but we are really close. Quickly.” He murmurs.

“Can’t see you partying.” Nanami’s hand comes to touch your other thigh, and for a girl who hasn’t had any in forever, the sensation of two big hands on your thighs is addling your mind. “No offense, darling you seem a little straight laced…” his words are trailed off with his hand squeezing gently.

Satoru scowls at him.

Is he touching you!?

Do you like it?

“I don’t party, it’s true.” You smile now, a hand over his, thumbs brushing his knuckles, while Satoru’s squeezing so hard you wince before he realizes it, letting go of his grip, but the hand staying on your knee. “I think we could go on a date sometime, as long as it doesn’t make work weird.”

“Not at all, all right I’ll leave you two to hang out then,” he stands, holding out a hand for Satoru, he squeezes the shit out of Nanami’s hand with a forced smile, only for Nanami to squeeze tighter. And fuck he’s strong. Then, he takes your hand, murmuring a - “I’ll see you at work, then,” and kissing the back of your hand. “Darling.”

Darling.

Satoru will show him darling.

You giggle, only pissing him off more, nodding shyly, fuck you’re cute even when you’ve made him furious. He’s shared women so many times he can’t count, even girls he got closer to, regular girls that you could almost say he ‘dated’ he’d still regularly bang out with his friends. He’s not possessive in general, he’s open minded and a free spirit.

Or he was!?

“Sounds good, Mr. Nanami.” He hates how you say his name, when the man in the khaki suit and dumbass cheetah tie leaves, finally. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, so sweet.” You look at him then, narrowing your eyes curiously.

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t know him. Seems boring, pretentious.” You blink in confusion, eyeing the retreating figure walking out, he even waves at you, which you return.

“He doesn’t seem like either to me. Satoru, you said we are just friends, are you worried that we won’t… do all that we do if I date someone?” Your words drop to a quiet murmur, and he sighs.

“Yes I would be very upset if I didn’t get to taste you again, why wouldn’t I be? It’d be a fuckin’ tragedy, sweetheart.” His words are too husky, when he leans against you, turning just so, his fingers slipping up your inner thigh, a side of sweet, nice Satoru you hadn’t seen yet, you almost think he looks…

He can’t be jealous.

Right?

You're delusional.

“I don’t just sleep around, so if we went on a date I wouldn’t do that. But, if I hit it off, and got serious, I wouldn’t continue our… lessons. I can only be with one person at one time.” He tenses then, is he going to lose you before he even gets you? “I don’t care if you do the same, I know it’s your job, but I couldn’t.”

“I’m not fucking anyone right now. My manager is bitching at me about it.” You tilt your head curiously, the chandelier earrings dancing in glittering prisms along your neck as you study him. “I’m having issues on set.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concern in your voice now, as he shakes his head. “Satoru, what's wrong?”

“I’m not in a good headspace it seems, the gang bang I failed, and I pushed the girl this morning on Suguru. So if I don’t give my manager something, they’re gonna be pissed. And no money for us if I can’t show up.”

“What’s wrong though, you seemed fine with Jenna in what I watched? Is this a new problem?” God you’re clueless to your effects, aren’t you? You touch his thigh too, instantly making his cock hard, looking down and getting flustered, he feels your heat, just making him harder. “You seem to work fine to me. Are the cameras getting too stressful?”

“I don’t know, but it really is a problem. Do you think… you could help your very handsome, amazing friend out?” You look up at him, curious.

“Help how?”

“Your good video skills, film a hot jerk off stream, good angles? Maybe that will get enough money he’ll chill some until I get over this.” You look away, the images of Satoru stroking his cock are burned in your brain. “Too much?”

“No, no. I can help, I feel I am taking up your time-”

“You’re not.” He cups your face then, turning it to him. “You’re never taking up my time, I enjoy being here. Okay?” You exhale, fuck had you been worried about that!?

How could you not know how badly he craves your presence?

“I feel bad that you’re going through this, is it the lesson?”

“The lesson did bring your taste into my mouth, and maybe no one tastes as sweet, it’s true,” his thumb brushes across your jaw line, smiling at how embarrassed you get then. “I think your taste would help me out.”

“Then, I’ll film you, but I can’t guarantee the quality.”

“It’ll be impeccable.” He raises two fingers, making your mind go to places it shouldn’t, you know another ‘lesson’ or session, or any time at all with Satoru was dangerous.

You’re teetering on the edge of feelings constantly, but you can do this, right, separate the two? He seems so good at it, at being your friend and then doing more, and you almost failed completely. You almost couldn’t say yes to Nanami because you are currently so delusional you think this star is so interested in you for more.

You have to accept him for who he is, no matter what, this was your choice to join his life at all. You take a breath now, trying to flip that switch off, the one that can’t stop thinking how much you’d love to kiss him, every minute of every day. The side that’s upset his fingers were inside someone, you have to throw her aside, and enjoy what’s here while it’s here.

He makes you question so much constantly, like every minute spent under that cerulean gaze brings out a side of you that you never knew of, some inner sexual side that only he can ignite. It’s so beautiful and special, his breath against your lips, you want to press them to yours, but so unsure, was he not about to be affectionate in public with you?

Was this just left for home?

He changes your thoughts when he kisses your forehead, far too sweet, then your cheeks, hot to the touch, down to your nose, making you giggle, relax. “You never ever waste any time.”

“I needed that.” You exhale, kissing his lips quickly as he smiles against your lips, and you pull back quickly. “I’d love to help you out.”

“I’ll make it worth your while, pretty.” His thumb brushes the slick on your upper thigh, right by your panties, watching your lashes flutter shut, as you take a shaky breath. “Come back to my place?”

“For the night or…”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Satoru’s paying the bill, signing a signature and leaving a hefty tip, then, holding out a hand for you.

“Did you drive here?” You shake your head, and he smiles, snatching up his phone now. “Perfect, I’ll have my driver take us over.”

*****

The second time coming to Satoru’s home was a little different, you were more comfortable, slipping off your heels now, he bends down to help you again, kissing your knees as he does, hands slipping up your thighs. Your hand brushes a lock of his white hair back, the unreal way you feel this comfortable, this drawn to him, makes your heart ache.

You’re so scared you’ll get hurt more, but you can’t stop yourself from being near him, from him looking at you like you’re the only fucking girl there is, are you so delusional?

Just enjoy it.

You close your eyes, sighing as he stands, kissing your lips again, easing your hand bag off your shoulder, brushing his thumbs across the mark it’s left on your shoulder. “Want another drink?”

“Yes please, if I’m going to be a porn director.” He laughs softly, shaking his head and taking off his suit jacket, laying it across the back of a chair when he pulls out the same bottle you’d sipped last time.

“You liked this one, hmm?” You nod, surprised he’d remember, taking the sweet liquid in the crystal glass, fingers brushing now. “Don’t get drunk though, I can’t have a shaky ass camera.”

“So demanding already, you really gonna make it worth my while you say?” You’re trying to tease back, like you can breathe or function in his presence, he just sighs, brushing back your hair behind your ear.

“That and more, sweetheart. We have hardly started doing things together, there is so much I can think of,” his hands slip lower, down the side of your neck, watching the goosebumps raise as he does, sighing at how perfect you look in his kitchen. “So many positions.”

“How many are there!?” He laughs now, at your embarrassed little look, pressing a boop to your nose.

“You’re endlessly adorable. Corruptible.”

“Oh!” He’s taking his own glass now, guiding you by your hand.

“Suguru’s out for the night, so we won’t get interrupted.” He’s leading you to his room, yanking off that black top, pausing as he sets up the ring light and grabs the camera, handing it to you, fingers brushing against each other. “You ready?”

“Ready,” your squeak of an answer makes him pause, taking your free hand, putting it on his bare chest as your heart hammers, trailing the hand lower to his belt and swallowing. “Need help?”

“Yes, I do.”

He needs you.

He’s desperate for you, fuck.

You’ve helped him undress, on your knees on the soft, plush carpet, when you start the stream, and he starts stroking that long, thick length right in front of you, he keeps looking at you, even when you gesture to the camera. He’s moaning, spitting on his tip, making it slicker for his big hand which still can’t come close to covering it, twisting and moving it all for you.

For his fans.

It’s hard to remember them when your cunt throbs, when you’re so overheated you can hardly stand it, and Satoru’s talking, low and hoarse. “Gonna cum so much, fuck…”

When he’s cumming you damn near do just looking, thighs pressing together for that friction, mouth fucking dry when your shaky legs nearly give out, while you come from a lower angle, reading the comments of his spurting cum, shooting up against his silvery happy trail, sticking all over, making you ache to drink it up.

“Fuck, I’ve made a mess, need someone to clean me all up.” Satoru whispers, while you barely are able to hold up the camera any longer, the livestream is avid with questions, namely - who is filming Satoru Gojo? And offers from many viewers to lick every bit of him up.

Satoru should stare at the camera, but he’s looking up into your eyes instead, stroking his cum soaked length slowly, just pumping more cum out of his tip, so much it’s ridiculous, dripped down to his balls and inner thighs. You swallow nervously, tummy clenched with desire, knowing you needed to stay quiet for the stream of curious viewers.

Satoru murmurs cut then, and  you do just that, shutting off the feed, and setting down the phone with a shaky hand, clearing your throat. “They loved it I think.”

“C’mere.” He crooks two fingers, and you eagerly obey, walking up to him now, tempting him to no end with the way your eyes drink him in. “On your knees, sweetheart.”

You obey again, eagerly in fact, looking up at him under lowered lashes as his clean hand slips up the side of your pretty neck, then around to the nape of it, entangling in your locks. Your soft whine and shift of your hips are all he needs to know you’re enjoying it, your hands obediently on your thighs, as if waiting for his every order, so sexy he feels his cock twitch back to life.

“Do you want to clean me up?” He asks softly, but the command in his tone is there, you nod and he exhales, tugging you towards him then. “Then do a really good job, sweets. Lick every bit clean like a good girl, and I’ll reward you.”

“I’ll do a good job.” Your whisper wrecks him, as he guides your head down, and you suck him, still hard, into your hot, eager mouth. Your soft whine vibrates around him, his head falling back as your mouth moves.

He can’t help but think of earlier.

A date, you were gonna go on a date, and he hates the idea, no, he fucking detests the idea in fact, the rage alone making him fuck your throat deeper, harder, feeling you gag and choke on him instead of anyone else. He shouldn’t feel possessive over his friend, a friend who’s sucking his cum, who’s swallowing him up, all he can think is his, his, his.

But you weren’t his.

How could you ever be?

Satoru’s never felt anything better than your throat, except he’s a million percent sure your cunt is better, he knows it would suck him up so greedy. When tears fall from your pretty eyes, it’s hotter than any blow job he’s had on set, the eagerness and desperate need to please far surpasses experience, your glasses fogging up when you pull back to take a breath then.

Satoru looks at his slick, spit covered cock, to thin trails of saliva disintegrating between your lips as you pull back, swiping at your lower lip. “How did I do?”

“Perfect.” His whisper is genuine, the words feel too good, you know you should stop, that you already wish he was yours, but you’re too addicted to how those blue eyes make you feel like you’re the only girl there is.

Even if it’s an illusion, a trick of your brain, or a practiced look.

The feeling is too euphoric not to be corrupted by it.

“You did such a good job, look at it, not any cum left. You sucked it all down, so greedy huh?” His hand comes under your chin, squeezing your neck gently yet so possessive, he wants to say it - his - but he knows he can’t. But it’s too easy to teeter off the edge, when your breaths come faster, breasts pressed up in that dress, rising and falling with each one.

“Satoru… I can keep going.” Your soft voice nearly ends him, little hand stroking his cock again.

“I was thinking of something, but if you don’t want to, it's okay.” You blink a bit then, tilting your head, tendrils falling against your bare shoulders.

“What is it?”

“A scene with me, but not showing your face at all,” your gasp and pull back makes him sigh. “It’d be like me eating your pussy, we could have it zoomed so no one sees your face.”

The thought, along with Satoru's sweet cum down your throat makes your tummy clench, while he brings out more and more of you that you didn't know existed. Your hands tense on his thighs now, taking a shaky breath, fingers along the downy hair on his thighs. “I don’t… Satoru you have a million options for costars-”

“I want yours. It’s the prettiest I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Satoru…”

“It is. Wanna argue about my expertise here?” You just get more flustered and flushed, looking down nervously, but he tilts your chin with his big hand, angling your gaze upward. “I’ll split all the pay, you get eaten out, and anonymously. I’d never tell anyone, I’d never risk your career or anything. But I do need to do one, and I hate the thought of it not…” Satoru trails off now, the words sinking in.

“You like eating me out that much?” Your whisper makes him chuckle then, nodding and swallowing nervously.

“That pussy is perfect. How about we film it, and you watch it, and if you don’t want to, I just keep it to jerk off to…” Shit, he said that.

He’s so desperate and pathetic.

But you flush again, surprising him with your nod.

“Shit really!?”

“We can film it for us to watch, and… I doubt I’ll be okay sharing it, but we can see if you- ah!” Satoru’s got you lifted so fast you barely can blink, unzipped and turned in moments, leaving you in the prettiest red lace lingerie that makes him groan, his fingertips trembling on your skin. “I said probably not, don’t get excited.”

“I’m excited to bury my face between your thighs again, sweetheart.” You cry out when he’s pressed you on the bed, spreading your thighs and groaning, fingers tugging at your panties.

“How can you make sure my face isn’t there?” You ask softly, he grabs the camera and the stand then, cock just swinging around, balls smacking his thighs, so used to being naked he doesn’t realize his effects. You can’t stop staring when he gets it at the perfect angle, clicking his tongue.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, viewfinder showing your pretty cunt up close, he’s almost furious to think anyone could see it like him, but his career is teetering on the brink of nothing, and if you truly were okay with it, he only sees it as a win.

You broke his dick and now he’s begging to just lick you, and split pay with you, he never thought he’d be so pathetic, but it’s no wonder, thumbing your pussy and spreading it, sighing. “Mnh!”

“So, to keep it anonymous if you decide to show this, don’t speak too personally, okay sweets?” You nod shyly, gasping as he shoves your thighs up. “Also, hold them up high, so all we’re getting is a view of your pussy.”

“Yes, sir.” You tease, but his cock starts leaking again, earning his moan.

“Don’t speak too much, to be safe, I don’t ever want you to feel like anyone would know it’s you. Speak when we’re done, though, you can absolutely moan.” You nod, so nervous, what are you doing!?

It’s as if Satoru Gojo brings something insane and wild out, because there is a thrill of your pussy on camera suddenly, and knowing he is about to worship you, potentially in front of people has your cunt drooling for him. He hits record then, angling his face so his tongue was in perfect view lapping up the arousal, exhaling now as he shoves your thighs up higher.

Perfect, you’re perfect.

“God, look at this pretty pussy,” he murmurs into the camera, parting your folds so all that syrupy arousal can pool out, he hears your sharp intake of breath, watches your red nails pressing into the plush of your thighs. His cock is already back hard, he has to stroke it and whines out as he laps you up, making you gasp.

He's slurping you then, head tilted just so the camera can see, smacking your clit gently, watching you jerk, pressing your thighs up higher and tilting the camera so it's higher, right over his head, looking at it and the reflection of your perfect cunt while he slips the tip of his tongue up. You're moaning at the sensations, twitching hips bringing your cunt more in his face.

Satoru can't stand it, how good you taste, he wondered if it was an illusion but no, you are the sweetest thing he's ever had. “You're so wet, god, take a look…” he's fingering you now, and you hear it while he watches it, glimmering from the soft ring light glowing on your perfect pussy. Making him so dumb he's just burying his face then, forgetting he's filming.

“Mnh!” You're trying not to call out his name, thighs still so high you can't see his face, to protect you from getting seen, until he adjusts it, spreading your thighs further, leaning up to look down at you under lidded eyes, chin coated in your slick. “Satoru…”

“You okay sweets?” His whisper touches you, his concern for you even during this, making sure you're okay. You nod and he exhales in relief, kissing you for a moment, knowing it's what you need, brushing your hair back, sighing as he looks down at you. “You're doing so good. Can you cum for me, baby?”

You nod again eagerly, and he’s dived back down, fingering you with two curled right in your cunt, hitting that spot that blinds you every time, his moans so filthy, guttural while he watches, angling his wrist and hitting something then, you feel so much pressure you panic, gasping, writhing under him.

“Oh my - ngh! Fuck!” You’re struggling to keep your voice a whisper, palming your mouth while you shatter.

“That’s it, right there, cum for me, lemme drink it up. Let everyone see how much you love my fucking tongue.” Pornstar Satoru was ridiculous to handle, hitting you with his fingers and the tip of his tongue on your clit, when the pressure releases, and your orgasm hits so hard you can’t help but scream, twitching as he pulls back in surprise. “Fuck, you’re squirting f’me?”

You have no clue what he means, you don’t see it as it starts pouring all over, making a mess, wet spot under you even as Satoru grabs you by the fat of your ass, licking up as much as he can. You’re a twitching, soaked little mess, your hands gripping his hair now, screams echoing in the room while he eases off you just a bit now, ready to fuck your slick, messy cunt.

He trembles as he pulls back and does one more shot, pressing a sweet kiss to your pussy before shutting off the camera, and leaning up, kissing you, so desperate, while your slick thighs rub together, and you feel the mess. He pulls up and takes a breath, flipping you then, making you gasp, handing you the camera while he kisses the backs of your shoulders, hands on your ass, spreading it wide.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing across your shoulder blades, brushing your hair to one side while you barely have the strength to press play, and that’s when you see it. “Look how perfect you are.”

Your pussy right on camera, and him eyeing it like he’s worshipping it, like you’re his fucking altar and his mouth is that offering. Your cunt starts throbbing while he works you, kissing every inch of your body as you fall more and more into the abyss of sin, of lust, of desire- of Satoru Gojo.

“You love it, don’t you baby?” His words are hot against your ear, while you watch him on the screen licking your cunt, watch your thighs tremble, all while he’s behind you, sinking his two fingers so deep in your quivering hole again. You arch your back, moaning now, it feels so good you can’t stand it, so erotic watching this video you two took, while he’s fucking you with his thick fingers.

“I do, but it’s insane… ah! Satoru…” He sighs now, taking his fingers out, pressing them into your mouth for you to suck, which you quickly obey, eyes fluttering shut, the image of his tongue fucking you reflecting in the darkness.

“Keep it for us, or share? It’s all up to you. I’ll never pressure you either way,” he’s soft then, turning your chin as he lays heavy weight over you, and you eye the phone now, hand shaking just a bit, to close it out or to share, he takes your hand, steadying it. “It’s fine to be how you are, you’re perfect, okay?”

“It’s fine to be how you are, Satoru Gojo. A… question, though.” He sighs, leaning close, while he keeps holding your hand, hovering just so.

“Mmhmm?”

“Would I be your favorite co-star?” Your teasing question makes him laugh at the ridiculous nature.

You’re the only one he can even get hard for.

“You’re the prettiest, yummiest, sweetest co star I could have,” his words are just a little broken, as he almost says more. That he hopes your date sucks with that Nanami guy, that he’s planning to show up at your work tomorrow to glare at that man, that he’s become fucking obsessed, but instead - “How could you think you’re not?”

“And we’re… still friends…” You ache for him to say - no, it’s more - but he nods, against your neck, pressing kisses against it. “Even if we fuck?”

God.

He’s dying.

“You think I wouldn’t be your friend anymore? I’m not the guy to get what he wants and go. I promise.” You nod then, smiling just a bit, and tap the share button then, surprising both of you.

“Holy fuck, I did that…” Your whisper is met with Satoru’s kisses now, as your video plays for all to see, your moans on camera mixing with the ones induced from his play, one arm wrapping your body as his cock presses insistently against your ass, hot and heavy.

“Stop me now, because I can’t think of anything but fucking your pretty pussy raw right now,” his desperate words and dilated eyes just serve to ruin you, when you arch your ass up. “Fuck, you sure?”

“I want you inside me, please,” he eagerly leans back, gripping his cock and lifting your thigh, pressing into your tight ring of muscles, almost cumming from the fucking tip. “Ah!”

“You’re so tight, relax I don’t want to hurt you, please.” Satoru whispers it as he grips your chin.

You nod, as he is slipping a little deeper from the back, the stretch burning so deliciously, you’re convulsing while the viewers are going wild over Satoru’s devoted pussy eating skills with his mysterious, faceless co-star. His silk hair brushes your cheek as he exhales heavy in your ear, whispering your name.

You eye the video, the comments, vision blurry, while he sinks his cock deeper, and he moans as he reads the comments to you, filling your cunt so full of his cock, inch by inch - and there are so many, each thrust deeper while you cling to his wrists, his arms wrapping you. He keeps reading them, even as he shoves in all the way, making you jerk and gasp.

“Perfect pussy, look at Satoru go, god she’s so wet for him, she’s cumming so much - is she squirting? Look at that, you’re a regular star, huh? F-fuck…”

“Mnh!” Your eyes roll back in your fucking skull now, lost in him, lost completely. So deeply unraveled under him you can’t remember what this is, that it’s a friend, that it was a scene, that you’re now the girl who did that, anonymous but to know it’s you on that screen with Satoru devouring you does something, fuck it does too much.

He’s murmuring more comments, and his huge cock is stretching your slick, tight heat beyond its means. “That’s it, you love it, huh? They all want to be in your place, or they want to lick you instead, but it’s me, isn’t it baby?” He shouldn’t be possessive, he tries to tell himself it over and over, but how can he not be, when he’s shoved in so deep, he feels the bulge of your tummy, groaning. “Feel me, sweetheart?”

You can’t speak, just nodding desperately, while the feed goes insane, watching your cunt squirt on Satoru’s face while he’s buried inside you, filling you to the hilt, stretching you out so good you forget to breathe. “Toru!”

He pauses at the nickname, your slurred words and pulsing cunt ending him, he could almost cum then and there and he has amazing stamina, but he has to hold back, wrapping a hand around your throat and leaning up on an elbow while you gush down his cock. Satoru kisses up your neck hungrily, eyeing your pussy on the video and then your face, your eyes almost black with pleasure.

“Only I can hit that spot, hmm?” His tip drags along your spongy spot now, and you’re twitching, nodding, so consumed as he surrounds you, breath against your neck, moans in your ear, hand squeezing your throat just so under your chin. His cock twitches as he shoves deeper, impossibly deeper, while you helplessly grip the blankets beneath you. “Answer me, like a good girl.”

“Y-yes.” Your whisper drives him insane, feral, the way your walls quiver around his cock is exquisite, that grip unreal, but more than anything it feels perfect.

“Made for this cock, aren’t you pretty?” The words fall out before he can stop them, and your eyes rolling back, drool spilling out of your mouth while your cunt is pulsing is his answer. “Perfect, fuck…”

“Mnh!” You can’t take it, his words urging you when he shoves his cock so deep, the tip bruising your cervix, making you scream as his guttural moan fills the room, his hand squeezing just enough pressure to make your orgasm blinding, white hot.

“Cumming all over me, so good, listening f’me, hmm?” You just nod weakly, gasping when he flips you to your back, lifting your thighs and shoving them wide, slapping the tip on your slick cunt and groaning. “Wanna watch me fill you up?”

You nervously nod, swallowing now, and he sees it, you’re overwhelmed, he leans down, kissing you, and you’re desperately clinging to his back, eagerly kissing him despite being damn near slack jawed. You exhale nervously, eyeing him is even more intimate, impossibly more, his plush lips still tasting like your honeyed arousal from earlier.

“If it’s too much, tell me, I want you comfortable.” It’s hard for him to speak, but he does, making sure to reassure you, kissing your forehead before he leans back.

“It’s intense, Satoru but… I want it.” He moans at that, sliding his cock back inside, sucking in a breath when you’re gripping him fucking tighter this time, slipping in slowly, inch by inch. “Ah! Satoru, so d-deep!”

“I am, huh? I can get deeper, baby.” You cry out when he shoves his cock in deep with a sharp thrust, and then pauses, eyeing that bulge in your stomach. “Look.”

“Look at… oh.” You’re heating up at the image, and he’s all about angles, he makes sure your eyes catch every bit of his slow thrusts, filling your tummy full of his enormous cock, too much to take, but your cunt is willing and eager, struggling to take his size.

“Fucking you so deep, see it? Your body is so small compared to my cock, pussy stretched too much, f-fuck… god look at you…” He’s losing it, he was trying to talk sexy to you, which comes naturally, but now he’s just obsessed with the image, thin white brows lowering over his eyes, while he slams inside you, your thighs trembling as they wrap his slutty waist. “Oh my god…”

“Satoru… ah!” He’s done, he’s fucking lost in you, in your eyes when he shoves your thighs up, gripping your face with his huge hands while he’s got you bent in half, slamming so hard you scream. “Too much!”

“I need all of you, fuck… can you take more?” His eyes are so bright blue they burn to look at, but you can’t stop yourself, nodding and cupping his face in return.

“Kiss me please.” He moans at that, slamming his lips down when he rocks his hips, cock filling you so deeply you scream into his mouth, hands slipping to his hair while he’s got his heavy weight over you.

“I can’t control it anymore, baby, if it’s too much just fucking hit me at this point,” he’s nonsensical, leaning up now, hands on the back of your thighs in a mating press, fucking you hard now, powerful strokes that take you the fuck out, cumming in moments with a few strokes, making him whimper.

That’s a sound you know he’s never made.

You may be delusional, but you’re sure you’ve only heard him whimper for you, you’ve never seen that look in his eyes on any video or stream, not when he’s staring right into your fucking soul and slamming his cock deep over and over. You’re barely able to cling to the earth, so much pleasure rushing through your body, you feel every vein and ridge of that huge cock as it fucks into you.

“Perfect, pussy is perfect, fucking knew it but god. God… fucking feel her,” he slams into you again, head falling back, giving you a view of his throat before he eyes you once more, shaking his head and slamming his cock harder. “Can she take it?”

You just nod, you’d take anything, the way it feels to be ruined by Satoru Gojo is far beyond his balls slapping your ass, his cock stretching your cunt, his hands bruising your fucking thighs, no it was more. You want to be filled by him, folded under him, you want every bit of it, losing yourself in him, in his bright blue eyes, in his filthy fucking words, in his cock slamming your cervix.

You were ruined, and you knew it.

You feel too much, far too much, when he’s leaned back, holding your thighs high and watching his cock pull out and enter, slowing and rubbing your abused clit. “F-fuck, cum one more time, I’m close… your cunt is so fucking perfect, shit… c’mon, like a good girl, there you go baby…”

It’s like that goddamn dream.

Word for word.

You cum harder than you have, when he shoves into the hilt, stuffing your slutty little hole, blinded and dizzy, hardly able to breathe, while he watches you shatter under him, so fucking beautiful he can’t take it. Your brows drawn together, that sweat making your skin glisten, your mouth open in the sluttiest O, he can hardly stand what the image does to him.

He knows it then, he’s fucking beyond destroyed, and terrified at that fact, at the power you’re oblivious to over him. He almost busts inside you, something he has never done - he doesn’t even go without condoms - the thoughts of filling your cunt full are far, far too tempting. He stops himself, cursing and holding his slick cock at the base while you’re spasming around him, back arching.

“Where do you want all this cum, sweetheart?” He manages to ask, you’re so fucked out you’re dizzy, blinking Satoru’s white hair and pretty face into view as he pulses inside you, just thickening and making you whimper.

“W-what… where… you want, I… mnh!” You’re still cumming, aftershocks rocking you, making your skin so sensitive when he eases your sore thighs down, parting them and pulling out finally, stroking himself as you catch your breath, watching him spurt thick white ropes all over your cunt. “Oh! Oh…”

“Fuck, fuck… god… oh my…” He’s moaning as he’s desperately jerking his slick cock, so much cum it seems impossible, since he just busted so much, and you watch him, enthralled as the hot sticky sperm is coating your cunt. “God, look at it, fucking look at us baby.”

He’s too much, he’s too much.

You thought him eating you out fucked you up mentally, what is he, his insane ass eyes bright as he trembles, strong muscles bunching and tensing, a work of fucking art pouring his cum on you. You’re stuck, at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing, brain not even functional as you look up at this man, knowing this isn’t just sex, it fucking couldn’t be.

It can’t be like this with someone.

You almost spill every feeling then and there, lost in him, in his desperation when he rests his head on yours, moaning against your lips, tip brushing your engorged clit and making you whine out. “God, your pussy is too perfect, it’s… you’re too perfect, feel too good, look too good…”

“Satoru, are you okay?” You whisper softly, he’s slurring his words, almost hard to understand in their hushed whispers in between his pants.

He can’t even answer, pulling back and looking at your pretty cunt, all abused from his cock and puffy, covered in his white ropes. “Can I have a picture? Please, just for me.”

“Y-you want one?” He laughs softly, breathless, nodding, and you heat up at it, looking down shyly. 

“Only you can be adorable with your pussy beat up and coated in cum, huh?”

“Oh god!” He can’t take it, how cute you are, the affection eating at him, as he takes a deep breath, leaning back. “Just one.”

“Fuck…” He takes the phone, eyeing the amount of comments and tips while your breasts heave, trying to catch your breath, sticky cum dripping across your folds when you shift your hips.

“What is it?” You ask softly, he shows you the number, and your eyes nearly bulge out. “Holy fuck!?”

“This is good even for me, shit. Pussy is made for porn.” You’re blushing harder, biting your lower lip when he angles the camera, taking several photos and exhaling at how pretty it looks. “God, look at you.”

“Are you talking to me or my pussy?” He grins then, so boyish and charming it’s as if he wasn’t just fucking you into a mating press and filming your cunt. “Also I said one!”

“Sorry. I’ll make it up.” He’s kissing your thighs then, lapping some of his own cum off your slit, you gasp at the sensation, his tongue on your sore, overstimulated pussy now. Your hands entangle in his hair as he groans. “Fucking taste us.”

“Satoru you’re in-insane and- mnh! Fuck!” You’re shaking when he laps more off of you, desperately lapping at every inch of your cunt now. “Satoru!”

“Gotta clean my pretty costar up, she’s only my costar you know, only one I’ve ever-” He pauses, stopping himself, when you eye him, breasts still gently moving up and down as you eye him.

“Only one you’ve… ngh! Satoru!”

“Taste us.” He’s lapped more of his cum and yours, murmuring for you to open, which you eagerly do, letting him spit his cum and yours in your throat. “Swallow, there you go, see it’s perfect, huh?”

You’re lost then, in the filthy string of words, when he’s back down cleaning you up with a tongue that’s lethal in its precision, rocking his cock on the bed, hard for the third time with you as he moans desperately against you. He’s latched onto your clit, sucking, while you can’t stop cumming, pushed past overstimulation, but not once do you tell him to stop.

You want it.

You need it.

In tears from how much you’ve cum, desperate for more, swapping his cum and yours mixing, against your tongues as he talks you through it, as you lose yourself, Jenna told you not to, she told you not to forget. You are trying to keep it separated, but how the fuck can you?

It felt worth losing yourself, for him, under him, him inside you - around you - taking over everything, while he’s back inside you, his lips murmuring desperate, dirty words into your sweet mouth. When you’re so fucked out you actually pass out blissfully in his arms, you can’t even remember the girl you were a few weeks ago, waking up just to be filled by him again from behind.

Being in his arms, you hope it’ll counteract the pain when he moves on, when he’s kissing you while fucking you from the back, sweet little nothings against your lips filling the room along with the squelching of his cock filling your cunt again. Every inch of your body kissed by him, licked by him, head to your fucking toes, shifting you to some other dimension as you drink each other in, exhausted and desperate.

You’ll think about that pain later, for now it’s all pleasure, aside from the ache in your heart for more, endlessly more.

The love on this story is so sweet, it's FAR from over. Please be patient as these are long chaps and I have other projects, if you're not on the tags you can subscribe to me on ao3 or turn on notifs <3 Can't wait to hear your thoughts

Taglist 1 - @rjreins @juicu @kalulakunundrum @gojoswaterbottle @aldebrana @simp-plague @wedojustbevibin @lucciferr0 @officialholyagua @privthemis @coffee-and-geto @homesickes @msniks @emi311 @mai-505 @gojoslovelylover @ren-ren23 @yihona-san06 @emochosoluvr @sylvermoon @bunheadusa @karvokr @starmapz @queenexplosonmurderr @musiclover2119 @saitamaswifey @reagan707 @midorissi @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @itsinherited @maisiefrancesca @gyarubunny @theonlyhonoredone @chosslut @simperisksksk @xlilycoco @howlsdarling @femaholicc @maymaymarch @miseryyouth-99 @swoozleee @zeunys @cryingdevil @leafynightmares @princess-bblgm @gojosconsort @insomnicshello @joonunivrs @myahfig4 @silviscosplay

[jasontoddiefor]

Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?

Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.

I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.

Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.

There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.

And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.

And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.

I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.

Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.

[queenkatluv]

I Am Leaving LAE

Hey everyone, I have an important announcement to share.

After much thought and consideration, I’ve made the incredibly difficult decision to step away from Lunar and Earth Show. This means that in the coming days, I will no longer be part of LAE as a channel lead, and this will be my final time as Earth on the show.

This was not an easy choice—it’s honestly heartbreaking for me. I’ve poured so much love, time, and effort into this show, from writing and managing to recording and shaping it into what it is today. LAE has been such a huge part of my life, and leaving it behind is one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make.

Unfortunately, my schedule has become overwhelming, and I simply no longer have the time or energy to keep up with the demands of creating content at the level LAE requires. For the sake of my mental health and overall well-being, I need to step away and give myself the space to breathe. As much as this pains me, I know deep down it’s the right decision—not just for me, but for you, the fans, who deserve consistent, high-quality content.

That being said, LAE is not ending—it’s moving in a new direction, and while I can’t speak to all the changes ahead, I sincerely hope you’ll continue to support what comes next.

This isn’t a full goodbye either! I will still be voicing Earth, Dazzle, Miku, and many other characters on The Eclipse and Puppet Show and The Sun and Moon Show, so you’ll still hear and see me around. I’m not disappearing—I’m just shifting focus.

I am beyond grateful for this incredible community. Seeing LAE grow to 129,000 subscribers and witnessing the love and support from all of you has meant the world to me. Thank you for being part of this journey, for your encouragement, and for making this experience so special.

I hope you’ll continue supporting LAE in its new chapter, and I hope you’ll stick with me as I move forward into mine.

Thank you all, truly. This isn’t the end—just a new beginning. 💙

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 9: November 2023 - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

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

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

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

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families...I think that's it?

Part 1 of November, Part 2 will follow.

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

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/PitLanePrincess: Isabelle Leclerc is the ultimate fashion inspiration for people who actually have to get dressed for work. A thread on why she’s the best follow if you want outfits that are stylish and wearable. 🧵⬇️

@/PitLanePrincess: Love the WAGs who serve high fashion, but let’s be real—I am not showing up to a Monday meeting in a full Mugler catsuit. Isabelle? She gives you real outfits. Blazer, midi skirt, chic top = effortless. 

@/PitLanePrincess: She mixes high and low so well, but the best part? She actually responds when people ask where things are from.

@/PitLanePrincess: She genuinely answers people??? I messaged her once about a bag, fully expecting nothing, and she just. Replied. Like a normal person.

@/PitLanePrincess: I swear she could afford to wear designer head-to-toe, but she chooses to mix H&M, Mango, and Zara with her Max Mara coats and Chanel flats. It’s aspirational but still possible.

@/PitLanePrincess: She rewears things!!! Some of these girls wear a $6K dress once and never again. Meanwhile, Isabelle’s been styling the same Max Mara coat for three years and making it look fresh.

@/PitLanePrincess: Also, she actually wears realistic shoes?? No five-inch stilettos, just sleek boots or comfy-yet-chic heels..

@/workwearqueen: If I ever ran into her in real life, I just know she’d be so sweet. Like, I could compliment her outfit, and she’d compliment mine back.

@/GridGossip: Some of these WAGs are giving editorial fantasy, which I love, but Isabelle is the one actually giving wearable inspiration.

@/everydayelevated: Isabelle Leclerc, if you see this, just know we appreciate you 🫶💖

***

The first time, Isabelle didn’t even think about it.

Max’s grey sweater—the one he practically lived in—had a hole in the sleeve. She watched him tug at the fraying threads absentmindedly, completely unaware of how worn it looked, how it sagged off his frame like it had given up.

So the next time she was out, she picked up a new one. Nothing dramatic. Same color. Same softness. Just... better. Better fabric. Better fit. Something that looked like him, only a little more cared for.

When she handed him the small box later that night, she hesitated—half-expecting him to shrug it off or barely notice.

"Your old one was falling apart," she said quickly, when he raised an eyebrow at the offering.

Max lifted the sweater out, turning it over in his hands. Then, with typical nonchalance, he peeled off the old one right there in the living room and tugged the new one on.

Isabelle watched carefully as he moved, adjusting the sleeves, testing the stretch.

After a moment, he nodded, satisfied. "Yeah. This is nice."

She exhaled, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. He didn’t realize it, but that was all the encouragement she needed.

After that, it started happening more and more.

A pair of jeans—no longer skin tight but a more relaxed fit that flattered his strong thighs… A new jacket—light, practical, something he would actually wear but wouldn’t make her wince when she saw it in photos.

She was careful. Isabelle never pushed, never tried to change how he dresses. Max liked simple, comfortable clothes, and she respected that. 

 She just made sure those things fit properly. Looked effortless instead of careless.

She told herself she wasn’t interfering.

She really meant to believe that.

But then Max walked into the living room one afternoon wearing an ancient Red Bull polo—wrinkled, slightly faded from too many washes—paired with sagging sweatpants that looked like they might give out at any moment.

Isabelle, mid-scroll on her phone, just... stopped.

Stared.

"Max, mon amour," she said carefully, setting her phone down. "Do you actually like that shirt?"

He looked down, frowning as if only now realizing what he was wearing. "Uh... yeah?"

"Are you sure?"

His frown deepened. "...Should I not?"

She sighed, standing up and crossing the room, smoothing down the skewed collar. "It's fine," she lied, fingers lingering longer than necessary. "But... you’re a world champion. You could look like it off-track too."

Max raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you saying I dress badly?"

Isabelle paused, choosing her words with painstaking care. "I’m saying... you have potential."

Max squinted at her, crossing his arms. "I wear what’s comfortable."

"I know," she said patiently. "But comfort and style aren’t enemies. You can have both."

Max narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Are you planning something?"

"No," she said, way too quickly.

Which was how, the very next day, she dragged him into a high-end boutique in Monaco.

Max resisted, obviously. He grumbled when she handed him a proper button-down. Scoffed at the tailored jacket she picked out. Refused—loudly—the first two pairs of trousers she suggested.

It took a fair amount of coaxing—and maybe a few well-placed kisses—to get him into the fitting room.

But when he stepped out...

Isabelle knew.

She folded her arms across her chest and smirked as Max caught sight of himself in the mirror and visibly paused.

The sharp lines of the jacket, the way the button-down skimmed his frame, the clean, simple look that made him seem even more confident, even more himself—it was all there, clear as day.

"Huh," Max said, tilting his head.

"Huh," Isabelle echoed, smug.

Max frowned at his reflection, pulling at the jacket slightly, testing the fit. His mouth twitched—like he hated to admit it—but even he couldn’t deny what he saw.

"Alright," he muttered. "Maybe you have a point."

Isabelle beamed, grabbing another item off the rack with a glint in her eye.

"Good," she said, already handing it to him.  "Because we’re just getting started."

***

Max learned pretty quickly that shopping with Isabelle wasn’t a quick in-and-out mission.

It was a strategic operation. A full-scale reorganization of his wardrobe. And apparently, his entire life.

At first, he protested. Loudly.

“I don’t need that many clothes,” he grumbled as she held up yet another impeccably tailored jacket, inspecting it with that critical little tilt of her head.

“Yes, you do,” Isabelle said without even looking at him. “You can’t wear Red Bull merch everywhere, Max.”

“I literally can,” he pointed out.

She gave him a look—the kind that somehow managed to say you absolute idiot without her even opening her mouth.

“And you shouldn’t,” she said sweetly.

He groaned, but he took the jacket from her anyway, grumbling under his breath as he did.

By the time they left the boutique, Max was carrying more bags than he had ever carried in his life.

 He looked like a particularly fashionable pack mule.

He kept muttering about "overkill" and "consumerism," but every time they passed a shop window, he caught himself glancing sideways—checking the fit of his new coat, adjusting the collar just slightly. He thought Isabelle didn’t notice.

She noticed.

She just didn’t say anything. Smugness was a reward best delayed.

That night, Max thought the ordeal was over.

It wasn’t.

Isabelle helped him “put everything away”—which, he quickly realized, meant completely dismantling his existing wardrobe.

At first, she just meant to hang the new things up neatly. Then she opened the closet.

And froze.

"This is a disaster," she said, hands on her hips.

Max, lying sprawled across the bed and scrolling through his phone, barely glanced up.  "It’s fine."

"It’s not fine," Isabelle said, already pulling out a hoodie that looked like it had been through a minor war.

Within minutes, there were piles everywhere—keep, donate, burn immediately—and Max could only watch as his closet was systematically conquered.

When she was finally done, the place looked... Organized. Manageable. Almost stylish.

Max sat up, surveying the damage. "Wow," he deadpanned. "It’s like I live here and yet I have no control over my own belongings."

Isabelle smirked, smoothing out a freshly hung blazer like a queen surveying her kingdom. "You don’t," she said, utterly unapologetic. "I do now."

Max shook his head but didn’t argue.

Instead, he stayed right where he was, watching her fold a few sweaters with that little furrow of concentration she always got when she was focused.

A thought crossed his mind, and he grinned.

"You’re enjoying this," he accused.

She shrugged, not even pretending to deny it. "I like making sure you look good."

Max swung his legs off the bed, stood, and crossed the room to wrap his arms around her from behind.

"I already do look good," he teased, resting his chin on her shoulder, feeling her laugh vibrate against him.

She hummed, pretending to think it over. "Hmm. You look better now."

Max laughed, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. "Fine. You win."

Isabelle turned in his arms, smiling up at him like she knew exactly how thoroughly she had just triumphed.

"You’ll thank me later," she promised.

And he did.

When he walked into the paddock a few days later—wearing a properly fitted shirt, no skinny jeans, no wrinkled team hoodie in sight—he caught the double takes.

The subtle stares. The media whispers. Even a few casual compliments from people who usually didn’t say a word to him about anything off-track.

Max just smirked, tugging his new jacket straight as he passed by.

Yeah.

Isabelle was right.

Again.

And maybe—maybe—he didn’t mind at all.

***

Instagram Post: @/f1hq

Comments: 

@/LightsOutMemez: Forget the championship. The biggest win of the season is whoever got Max out of those cursed skinny jeans.

↳@/PaddockSpy: Max Verstappen in an outfit that actually fits him… we are witnessing history.

↳@/ChecoMode: You’re telling me Max Verstappen had style potential this whole time and we never knew???

@/GridGossip: I don’t know what’s more shocking—the fact that Max won again or the fact that he did it while dressed like an actual style icon.

@/YukiFanClub: The only logical explanation is that Max’s girlfriend run interference. No man just wakes up one day and decides to dress better ON HIS OWN.

↳@/WAGWatch: Whoever picked this outfit, we thank you for your service.

↳@/RedBullChaos: This is definitely the work of a woman. And we love her for it.

↳@/PaddockSpy: I don’t know who’s responsible for Max Verstappen’s wardrobe glow-up, but I hope they’re having a great day.

@/ChecoP1: Max Verstappen’s biggest flex isn’t his trophies. It’s the fact that he now has functional drip.

↳@/MaxAndCats33: If he posts a mirror selfie in this outfit with his CATS, I’m actually going to lose my mind.

@/RedBullChaos: This is definitely the work of a woman. And we love her for it.

@/PaddockSpy: I don’t know who’s responsible for Max Verstappen’s wardrobe glow-up, but I hope they’re having a great day.

@/SoftLaunchDetective: First, he dresses better. Next, he starts smiling more. Before you know it, he’s dropping a blurry hand pic on his story.

↳@/DRSDrama: If this man posts one artsy Instagram story of his hand intertwined with someone else’s, I’m DONE.

@/FIAFits: The fact that it took this long for Max to upgrade his wardrobe tells me that he fought this change for MONTHS.

@/DTSTherapist: This is like when a man gets a haircut after years of looking the same and suddenly everyone realizes he’s actually attractive.

↳@/SoftLaunchAnon: Max Verstappen having a wardrobe evolution was not on my 2023 bingo card.

@/PaddockFashion: Okay but the best part is that it’s still so Max. Just… upgraded.

↳@/OversteerStyle: It’s like someone took his usual wardrobe and just refined it a little. No drastic changes, just subtle improvements.

↳@/TireDegTrends: He’s still wearing jeans, just… normal-fitting ones. And the shirt? Still casual, but suddenly it works.

↳@/StyleUnderCut: This is the equivalent of adding a subtle aero upgrade that shaves off two tenths per lap.

↳@/WAGWatch: Whoever did this didn’t erase Max’s essence, they just polished it. A true masterclass.

@/DriveToSurviveChaos: Netflix better not cut this from the next season. This is important.

***

The first thing Lewis Hamilton noticed when he walked into the paddock was not the weather, or the press, or even his own team's busy chatter.

It was Max Verstappen.

Specifically, Max Verstappen looking... polished.

Lewis actually stopped mid-step, doing a blatant double-take.

Max wasn't wearing the usual crumpled team polo and horrendous skinny jeans combo he seemed genetically programmed for. No. Today, Max was wearing dark, well-fitted jeans, a simple but perfectly tailored black jacket over a clean, crisp white t-shirt. His hair looked like it had seen a brush in the last 24 hours. His trainers were still comfortable, yes—but new. Coordinated.

Lewis stared at him like he was an alien.

"Am I in the wrong paddock?" Lewis muttered under his breath.

George Russell sidled up next to him, carrying a coffee, and followed his gaze.

He whistled low under his breath. "Well, well, well. Look who discovered fashion."

Lewis shook his head slowly. "No, I'm serious. What happened. Who is that."

Max caught sight of them then, gave a casual nod, utterly unfazed.

George narrowed his eyes, studying him.

"I mean... he's still Max," George said. "Just upgraded."

Lewis blinked, stunned. "I didn't even know he owned a jacket without a sponsor logo on it."

"Maybe," George said, taking a slow sip of his coffee, "maybe it's the girlfriend effect."

Lewis turned to him. "The what?"

George shrugged, completely serious. "You get a girlfriend who actually cares about what you look like, and suddenly—" He gestured vaguely at Max. "—that happens."

Lewis frowned. "He’s had girlfriends before."

George grinned. "Yeah, but he’s never dressed like he wanted to impress anyone before."

Lewis squinted, suspicious. "Do we even know if he has a girlfriend?"

George raised an eyebrow. "Do you think he picked that jacket out himself?"

Lewis opened his mouth. Closed it. "...Good point."

Meanwhile, Max strolled past them, earbuds in, calm as anything. No logos, no oversized hoodie, no worn-out sweatpants. Just effortless, unsettling effort.

Lewis watched him go, still frowning.

"I don’t like it," he muttered.

George laughed. "You’re just mad because he’s pulling it off."

Lewis huffed. "I’m mad because now I have to outdress Max Verstappen. And that was never supposed to happen."

George clapped him on the back, grinning. "Welcome to the new world order, mate."

As Max disappeared into the Red Bull hospitality, several team members turned to watch him too, murmuring quietly.

Because when even Max Verstappen starts dressing suspiciously well... You know something’s up.

***

Daniel Ricciardo was minding his own business—sort of—lounging near the espresso machine, casually watching the paddock buzz by, when Max walked in.

Daniel did a casual glance up—and promptly choked on his coffee.

Because there was Max.  Wearing tailored jeans. A clean, fitted jacket. A proper, ironed t-shirt. Looking... put together in a way that was frankly illegal.

Daniel slammed his cup down, pointed at him dramatically across the hospitality lounge. "You. Stop."

Max paused mid-stride, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. "What?"

Daniel stood up, hands on his hips. "You can't just waltz in here looking like a Zara model on casual Friday and act like nothing happened."

Max gave a tiny, infuriating smirk. "I can and I did."

"No, no, no." Daniel waved a hand wildly. "You look suspiciously… functional. Coordinated. You match, Max."

Max just shrugged like it was no big deal. "Maybe I learned."

Daniel squinted at him. "No," he said. "Someone taught you."

Max gave him a pointedly neutral look.

And that’s when Daniel grinned.

 Like the world's most annoying lightbulb had gone off over his head.

He practically cackled as he leaned in.

 "YOUR GIRLFRIEND."

Max said nothing. Not a word.

 Which was exactly how Daniel knew he was right.

"You absolute simp," Daniel whispered, giddy. "You let her overhaul your entire wardrobe."

Max rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the tiny flicker of a smile.

Daniel clasped a hand over his heart. "God, I love love."

"Shut up," Max muttered, but there was no heat in it.

Daniel leaned back, arms crossed, studying him. "So what’s next, mate? Weekly skincare routines? Matching Christmas jumpers?"

Max gave him a long-suffering look. "If you tell anyone—"

Daniel grinned wider. "Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me." He paused, then added gleefully, "Mostly because everyone else already suspects something."

Max groaned.

Daniel beamed. "Can’t wait for you to show up next race weekend in proper loafers and a linen shirt. Monaco chic."

Max muttered something in Dutch under his breath that was probably deeply unflattering.

Daniel just slung an arm around his shoulder anyway, still laughing.

"You," Daniel said fondly, "are so whipped, and it’s beautiful."

Max shoved him off, but he was smiling—real, relaxed, the way he only was when he let his guard down completely.

***

The room was too quiet when she entered the meeting in the evening.

Isabelle felt it the moment she stepped in—like walking into a room where someone had just been talking about you. That sticky tension. The abrupt silence. The way no one met her eye.

She sat down, opened her laptop, and waited.

The project lead began reviewing the concept pitch. It was hers. Her layout. Her color palette. Her vendor list. But her name? Nowhere on the slides.

No credit. No mention.

Léa was presenting it like it had fallen from the sky.

And no one blinked.

Isabelle closed her laptop.

Slowly. Deliberately.

“Interesting,” she said, her voice smooth. “I must’ve blacked out while watching someone else design my project.”

Léa blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

The room stilled.

For a moment, Isabelle said nothing else. Just looked at them. Really looked—at the two junior designers who’d whispered and sabotaged, at the project manager who let it happen, at the senior designer who'd praised her ideas only to present them as someone else's.

“You’ve all been treating me like I don’t belong here since the day I started,” she said, calm and clear. “At first I thought it was because I was new. Then I thought maybe it was because of my last name. But now I understand—it’s because you’re afraid of me.”

Léa scoffed. “Afraid? Please.”

Isabelle turned to her. “Yes. Afraid. Because you’ve seen what I can do. You’ve seen how good I am. And instead of rising to meet me, you’ve spent months trying to cut me down.”

She stood. Quiet. Unshakable.

“You tried to twist my success into nepotism. You told people I only got clients because of who my brother is.” She paused. “You do realize I designed Max Verstappen’s penthouse, right? I didn’t just walk through it and fluff pillows. I created it. Every material. Every layout. Every detail. Because he trusted me. Not the Leclerc name. Me.”

No one moved.

“And the irony?” Isabelle continued, voice like silk on steel. “You thought I wouldn’t fight back. Because I’m quiet. Because I’m kind. Because I don’t yell or gossip or throw people under the bus.”

She tilted her head, smile sharp.

“You mistook my silence for weakness. That was your first mistake.”

A long pause.

Then she picked up her laptop, her bag, and her portfolio binder.

“I’m resigning effective immediately,” she said. “I refuse to spend another second giving my talent to people who try to tear me down instead of rising up themselves.”

She walked toward the door, paused, and turned back.

“One more thing,” she added, eyes narrowing. “The next time you decide to steal someone’s work, you might want to make sure they’re not ten times the designer you are.”

Then she left.

No one stopped her.

***

Team Redline Stream – Transcript

(Stream already in progress. Max is mid-race, casually chatting with the guys and chat.)

Max: "Yeah, I’m alone tonight. Again. My girlfriend’s still at work."

Luke Crane: "Is she ever not at work?"

Max: (Sighs.) "Rarely. I keep telling her it’s too much, but she says she’s fine."

Chris Lulham: "Classic."

Chat:

The way Max sounds so fed up"She says she’s fine" <- she is absolutely not fineBro is one bad day away from staging a full interventionTell her we said QUITHe’s about to unionize her workplace himself

(Max continues driving, glancing off-screen every so often. His focus flickers.)

(A door opens in the background. Max immediately looks up.)

Max: "Oh, you’re home." (Pauses.) "It’s almost midnight."

(A short silence. Max’s expression shifts.)

Max: "You haven’t eaten yet?" (His eyes narrow.) "Why? What do you mean you forgot?"

Chris: "Uh-oh."

Luke: "It’s happening."

Chat:

MOTHER HEN VERSTAPPEN HAS LOGGED INRIP to her but Max is about to lecture her for 20 minutesSomewhere, Jos is crying because Max turned into his momRed Bull gives you wings, but Max gives you forced meals

Max: (Grumbling in Dutch.) "You work all day and don’t eat? That’s not okay." (Pauses, then scoffs.) "No, I don’t care if you’re ‘not hungry.’ You’re eating something."

Chris: "Do you even know how to cook?"

Max: (Flatly.) "I know how to order food, Chris."

Gianni Vecchio: "Yeah, she’s doomed."

(Max is still focused on the conversation off-screen, visibly exasperated. Then, suddenly, he freezes mid-turn, his entire body going still.)

Max: "...Wait. What?"

(Silence. His mouth opens slightly, then closes. He blinks.)

Max: "You quit your job?"

Chris: "OH?"

Gianni: "HELLO?"

Chat:

SHE DID WHAT NOWMAX IS BUFFERINGDID WE MANIFEST THIS????Homie forgot how to drive for a second

Max: (Still staring off-screen, jaw slightly slack.) "Wait, like—actually? You actually quit?"

(A few beats of silence. Then, suddenly, Max exhales and leans back in his chair, shaking his head with a smirk.)

Max: "Finally."

Gianni: "Finally?"

Max: (Grinning now.) "Yes, finally! I’ve been telling her for months to leave. They treated her like shit."

Chris: "You sound happier about this than she probably is."

Max: "Because she deserves better. I told her that place wasn’t good enough for her." (Pauses, then softer.) "They should’ve known better than to treat her like that."

Chat:

MAX VERSTAPPEN, NUMBER ONE SUPPORTER

"Finally" LMFAO bro has been WAITING

He’s so relieved omg

Someone check on her ex-boss, they just felt a chill

Bro went from shocked to proud so fast

Red Bull Racing HR is shaking rn

I need a Max Verstappen in my life

Max: (Still grinning, shaking his head.) "So what now?" (Pauses, listening.) "Yeah? Taking time off? Good. You need it."

(His tone softens slightly, his expression fond. Chat goes feral.)

Chris: "So no more insane work hours?"

Max: (Smirks.) "Nope. Now it’s just insane hours listening to me talk about my simulator settings."

Chat:

She quit her job and he’s acting like he won his fourth titleMax really went "welcome to unemployment, babe"Bro is GLOWINGSupportive boyfriend era is PEAKING

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

📌 @/F1TeaSpill: MAX VERSTAPPEN ON STREAM JUST CASUALLY DROPPED THAT HIS GIRLFRIEND QUIT HER JOB AND WENT "FINALLY." BRO HAS BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT 😭😭

↳ @/RacingGirlie: THE WAY HE WAS SO READY WITH THAT RESPONSE LMFAO 💀 ↳ @/TireDegradationStan: He forgot how to drive for a second. The shock was REAL.

@/GridGossip: Max Verstappen finding out his girlfriend quit her job and IMMEDIATELY going: ✅ "Finally." ✅ "They treated you like shit." ✅ "You deserve better."

Boyfriend of the YEAR.

↳ @/MonacoMafia: Bro is celebrating her resignation more than his championships 😭 ↳ @/DR3nation: She quit her job and he’s THRIVING ↳ @/RedBullSimps: The way he went from SHOCKED to RELIEVED in under five seconds

@/F1GirlfriendsAnonymous: Not Max Verstappen exposing himself as the softest, most supportive boyfriend alive. He really said: 🔹 "You deserve better." 🔹 "If they don’t respect you, don’t waste your time there." 🔹 "Take time off, you deserve it."

And y’all still think he’s cold???

↳ @/DutchLion44: THE WAY HE WAS SO SINCERE ABOUT IT 🥺 ↳ @/​​OversteerOverlord: This man went from "I have no emotions" to "I will support my girlfriend unconditionally" real fast

@/FormulaLover: "NO MORE LATE NIGHTS AT WORK?" "NO, JUST LATE NIGHTS LISTENING TO ME COMPLAIN ABOUT SIMULATOR SETTINGS."

MAX PLS 😭

↳ @/PitStopPrincess: Her old boss just felt a chill down their spine ↳ @/DannyRicFave: Soft!Max is the best Max. I don’t make the rules.

@/PaddockChaos: How much do you bet that Max has been trying to convince his girlfriend to be his full-time trophy wife for MONTHS and she just wasn’t having it 💀

↳ @/RedBullRacingWife: "Finally." <- That was a man who has been campaigning for this moment ↳ @/GridTeaSpill: You KNOW he’s been like "you don’t need to work, just stay home, I’ll buy you whatever you want" and she’s been like "absolutely not" 💀💀 ↳ @/OvertakeAddict: Mans was celebrating her quitting before SHE even processed it 💀

@/MonacoMafia: MAX WAS SO READY FOR THIS MOMENT 😭 "Finally" <- that’s not just relief, that’s VICTORY.

↳ @/DutchLion44: He’s been battling corporate capitalism on her behalf for MONTHS ↳ @/PaddockGossip: He really wanted her to be living that soft life and she was like "Nah, I have a job" 😂 ↳ @/RaceStrategyFails: Man had a 10-step plan for her retirement and she foiled it by having ambition

@/F1TinfoilHat: Max Verstappen trying to turn his girlfriend into a trophy wife and failing is so funny to me. Like you just KNOW he was pulling out all the stops. 🚗 "You can have any car you want." 🏠 "Live anywhere you want." 💍 "You don’t need to work, just be with me." And she really went, "No, I have emails to answer."

↳ @/RB20Fan: She quit her job and he was the happiest person in the room 😭 ↳ @/F1MemesDaily: Plot twist: She’s about to find another job and he’s gonna LOSE IT 💀

@/LightsOutMax: Max Verstappen has won three world championships, dominated the grid, and still lost to his girlfriend’s corporate job.

↳ @/SoftMaxFan: The way he’s been fighting for MONTHS and she was just like "No ❤️" ↳ @/PaddockPrincess: Bro was ready to pay her a salary just to stay home and she STILL refused 💀💀 ↳ @/F1Spill: "Finally." <- that was not just relief, that was a mission accomplished moment

@/RedBullGirlie: I need someone to ask Max in an interview if he ever tried to get his girlfriend to be a full-time trophy wife because I know he did

↳ @/PaddockClown: He absolutely pitched it like a Red Bull contract ↳ @/​​RB20Fanatic: "I can provide you with a top-tier environment, all the resources you need, and a long-term vision for the future." ↳ @/DR3Memes: Drive to Survive voice "And in that moment, Max Verstappen realized… he was not winning this one."

@/FrontRowF1: I don’t even think Max was mad that she worked. He was mad that they treated her badly. Boyfriend of the Year tbh.

↳ @/RB19Stans: Yeah, his first reaction after shock was pure rage at her old job 😭 ↳ @/F1Himbos: He was 100% ready to go to war with that company ↳ @/Lap1Drama: He’s been FUMING about how they treated her and now he won

@/F1Takes: Max Verstappen was sitting there on stream like:

👀 "Wait, you quit?" 😳 "You actually quit?" 😌 "Finally." �� "They treated you like shit anyway."

Sir, have you been campaigning for this???

↳ @/PitLaneGossip: Bro had an entire strategy in place. He’s been pushing this agenda for MONTHS. ↳ @/RB19Forever: His immediate relief tells me he lost sleep over this job more than SHE did 💀 ↳ @/MonacoMadness: Man heard "I quit" and didn’t even process it before celebrating

@/SoftVerstappen: Max really thought his biggest opponent was Lewis Hamilton when in reality it was his girlfriend’s work ethic

↳ @/PaddockTea: Man has three world titles and 0 influence over her career choices 😂 ↳ @/DR3Fanatic: She’s out there being an independent woman and he’s just like please let me fund your life↳ @/GridGossip: I fully believe he has pitched the trophy wife life at least once and got rejected immediately

@/MaxForPresident: Max celebrating his girlfriend quitting like it’s his own career milestone is so FUNNY to me

↳ @/PodiumPredictions: She said "I quit" and he unlocked a new level of happiness↳ @/SoftTyresOnly: The way he’s genuinely delighted while she’s probably still processing it 💀 ↳ @/MonacoMafia: If she gets a new job he might actually riot

@/LandoStan33: Max Verstappen is a billionaire and his girlfriend still refused to quit her job for OVER A YEAR. Queen behavior.

↳ @/OvertakeObsessed: She refused to be a WAG full-time and he just had to deal with it

@/MonacoMadness: Max: "They don’t respect you. Just quit." Her: "I like working." Couldn’t have been me. You think I’d rather be working than living the dream as a rich man’s problem?

↳ @/Lap1Drama: Imagine saying NO to Max Verstappen telling you to never work again ↳ @/PodiumPredictions: The way I would’ve handed in my resignation the second he hinted at it↳ @/F1TeaSpill: Why suffer at a 9-5 when you could be a full-time F1 WAG???

@/MidfieldMess: I respect Max’s girlfriend for standing her ground but personally? I would have been at home in silk pajamas with a cat by now.

↳ @/RB20Memes: If my man said, "Quit your job, I’ll take care of you," I’d be gone in 0.2 seconds.↳ ↳ @/DR3Laughs: Max’s girlfriend WORKED while he was literally BEGGING her to relax. I COULD NEVER.

↳ @/RB19Tactics: I’d be in Pilates class at 10 AM on a Tuesday living my best life ↳ @​​/SoftMaxFan: She really CHOSE to work when she could’ve been a full-time rich girlfriend.↳ @/OvertakeGuru: RESPECT TO HER but I would’ve folded immediately.

@/GridGossip: Max Verstappen’s girlfriend really QUIT HER JOB on her own terms, months after he told her to, and not because he’s a billionaire but because she finally decided she was done.

SHE REALLY DOES NOT CARE ABOUT HIS MONEY.

↳ @/SoftVerstappen: This is actually insane. ↳ @​​RB19Defense: Girl had a multi-millionaire boyfriend BEGGING her to quit and she STILL waited. ↳ @/LightsOutRB: She worked herself into the ground because she didn’t want to rely on him??? Couldn’t be me.

***

At first, Isabelle seemed fine.

She took a shower, scarfed down a sandwich…and then she just sat on the couch, staring at nothing. 

“So… how does it feel to be unemployed?”

Isabelle turned to face him with a breezy smile. “Great. Amazing, actually. I should’ve done it sooner.”

Max folded his arms across his chest, not buying it for a second. "Uh-huh."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

"You’re saying that like someone who is definitely not fine," Max said.

She rolled her eyes. "I just don’t see the point in dwelling on it."

"Okay. But not dwelling isn’t the same as being fine."

She laughed, short and sharp. "Max, I quit a job that was making me miserable. I did the right thing."

"Yeah," Max agreed easily. "But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel weird."

He could see the argument forming on her face—the automatic instinct to insist she was fine, she was strong, she could handle anything.

But then she hesitated.

Her mouth opened like she was about to say something else—something defensive, probably—but instead, her face crumpled.

 And just like that, she was crying.

“Oh, Schatje.” Max pulled her into his arms without hesitation.

"I don’t know why I’m crying," Isabelle mumbled against his shirt, voice thick with tears.

"Because it’s a big change," Max said quietly, rubbing slow circles over her back. "Because you worked hard for that job, even if it sucked. Because you’re human, and this stuff is hard."

She sniffled against him. "I feel stupid."

"You’re not stupid," he said firmly, dropping a kiss into her hair. "You’re figuring it out. That’s brave."

She exhaled shakily, the tension in her shoulders finally starting to unravel. "I don’t even know where to start."

Max grinned. “Well, in the meantime, you can always be my trophy wife.”

That earned a wet, incredulous laugh. “Excuse me?”

“You know, live a life of luxury. Lounge around, spend my money—”

“I’m not going to be your trophy wife.”

“Why not? You’d be great at it.”

“I like working,” she shot back, slipping out of his embrace just enough to glare at him.

Max smirked. “Yeah, but you also like expensive pastries, and being my trophy wife means you can have as many as you want.”

She groaned, wiping at her face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are, still crying all over me,” Max teased, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Isabelle huffed. “Fine. I’ll be your trophy wife for a week. Just to try it.”

“Deal,” Max said easily. “I’ll even buy you a designer handbag.”

She laughed again, finally looking a little more like herself. “You are ridiculous.”

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1Spotted: Y’all, Max Verstappen just walked into Chanel Monaco, and I’ve never seen a man more determined in my life.

@/SoftCompound: What’s the vibe? Casual browsing or “I know exactly what I want” levels of confidence?

@/F1Spotted: He walked in, went straight to the handbags, and told the SA, “I need something classic. Not too flashy. She prefers gold hardware.”

@​​/F1Tea: NOT “she prefers gold hardware” ??? Who is SHE???

@/GridGossip: That is a man DEEPLY in love.

@/F1Spotted: The SA showed him a couple of options, and he just went, “That one. I’ll take it.” No hesitation. No second thoughts.

@/RBR_obsessed: Not even checking the price tag 💀💀💀

@/EngineModeYES: The way he’s spending like a man who never wants her to work again.

@/McLarenMemeLord: “She likes gold hardware” AND “I’ll take it” in the same shopping trip… pray for this man, he’s down catastrophically.

@/OversteerFanatic: Do we think this is a “Congrats on quitting your terrible job” gift or a “Please let me keep funding your lifestyle” gift?

@/TyreDegSzn: He’s doubling down on the trophy wife agenda.

@/PadelAndPitStops: Next thing we know, she’ll be posting one of those soft-focus Insta stories of the bag with the caption: “spoiled 💚”

@/F1Spotted: He left with the biggest grin, holding the Chanel bag like it was a trophy.

@/Multi21Pls: He has 3 WDCs but THIS is his greatest achievement.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle:  I did a thing.

Emilie: Oh god.

Emilie: What kind of “thing”?

Emilie: Like... a normal person thing? Or a you thing?

Isabelle:  I quit my job.

Emilie: ...you WHAT

Isabelle:  I gave notice yesterday.

Isabelle:  Well, technically I handed in my resignation with zero notice.

Isabelle:  So... I guess I just quit.

Emilie: ISABELLE

Isabelle: I know.

Emilie: YOU QUIT Emilie: LIKE Emilie: YOU’RE FREE?

Isabelle: Apparently.

Emilie: Belle. Emilie:  BELLE.Emilie: THIS IS A MOMENT.

Isabelle: I’m half proud, half panicking.

Emilie: That’s valid. Emilie: But mostly: GOOD FOR YOU. Emilie: You’ve been miserable for months. This is overdue.

Isabelle: I just kept thinking I could fix it.

Emilie: You are not a human Band-Aid. Emilie: You do not have to patch up dysfunctional men in button-down shirts.

Isabelle: That’s a very specific burn.

Emilie: It’s targeted and deserved. Emilie: Also: I’m proud of you. Emilie: And I’m taking you out for champagne and carbs.

Isabelle: I don’t know if I want to celebrate or cry in a corner.

Emilie: We’ll do both. 

Isabelle: ...Okay. Isabelle: I could be convinced.

Emilie: I’m ordering us dessert too. You’re unemployed and hot, it’s a new era.

Isabelle: Thank you. I think?

Emilie: You’re welcome. I love you. I’m proud of you. And I swear to god if you try to go back I will physically block the door.

Isabelle: Noted 😅

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: What have you DONE to my friend.

Emilie: Miss “I’m fine,” Miss “It’s not that bad,” Miss “Maybe if I just do a little more…”

Emilie: She QUIT.

Emilie: HER. JOB.

Emilie: No backup plan. No exit strategy. Just mic drop and walk out.

Max: Yeah. Fantastic, right? Good for her.

Emilie: GOOD???

Emilie: MAX.

Emilie: SHE ACTUALLY STOOD UP FOR HERSELF AND WALKED OUT.

Emilie: Don’t “good for her” me!!

Emilie: I mean yes—good for her, but also

Emilie:​​ who are you

Emilie: and what have you done to the girl who used to apologize to printers when they jammed

Max: I didn’t do anything 🤷‍♂️

Max: She decided on her own.

Max: She deserved better.

Max: She knows that now.

Emilie: You’ve been boyfriend-ing too well

Emilie: She’s out here setting boundaries and reclaiming her peace like a whole queen

Emilie: And I’m just watching it happen like ????

Max: So you’re saying I’m a good influence?

Emilie: I’m saying you’re terrifying

Emilie: She’s turning down nonsense and choosing herself

Emilie: Do you even understand the level of personal growth we’re dealing with?

Max: She deserves it.

Emilie: Yeah. She really does.

Emilie: Also if you hurt her I will throw a stiletto at you. Custom Louboutins. It’ll be personal.

Max: Fair.

***

Isabelle wasn’t even sure why she had let Emilie drag her out shopping today. She didn’t need anything. She barely ever bought anything for herself—at least, nothing extravagant. 

She liked nice things…but she had never been hung up on brands, and she much preferred pieces that didn’t make her look like a walking billboard advertisement for a luxury brand. 

(Though she did quite like the absolutely gorgeous Chanel Flap Bag that Max had presented her with a few days ago. He had kept that ridiculous promise of buying her a handbag and she had been too amused to call him out on it.)

“You know, now that you’ve officially quit your job, we need to celebrate,” Emilie said as they strolled into Hermès.

Oh, right, now she remembered. Namely that she had quit her job literally days ago and was now officially unemployed. 

Isabelle sighed. “This is the celebration,” she said drily. This and the boozy brunch they had had before going shopping. 

“No, no, you buying something is the actual act of celebration.”

“I am not buying another handbag.”

Emilie gave her a flat look. “That’s what you said last time.”

“Yes, and I meant it,” Isabelle shot back. “Max literally bought me a Chanel bag the other day.”

Emilie stopped in her tracks. “He bought you a Chanel bag?”

Isabelle shifted awkwardly. “…Yes.”

“Like, you mentioned it in passing, and he surprised you later? Or was this a ‘we walked into the store, and he casually dropped his credit card’ kind of situation?”

Isabelle sighed, rubbing her temples. “It was a joke.”

“A Chanel bag was a joke?”

“I told him I’d be his trophy wife for a week.”

Emilie looked at her like she’d grown three heads. “And his response was to buy you a Chanel bag?”

“…Yes?” Isabelle said weakly.

Emilie grabbed her by the shoulders. “Isabelle. Your boyfriend is so far gone for you, I don’t think he even remembers what normal human relationships look like.”

Isabelle grimaced, thinking back to that black credit card that was tucked into the back of her wallet. “Can we move on?”

“No. Because you just quit your job, you’re technically unemployed, and your extremely rich, extremely besotted boyfriend is throwing designer bags at you. You are living the trophy wife dream.”

“I am not his trophy wife.”

“I mean, technically, no. But spiritually? You are this close.” Emilie held her fingers an inch apart, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Before Isabelle could protest, a well-dressed sales associate approached with a warm smile. “Miss Leclerc, lovely to see you again.”

Emilie, distracted by a nearby display of silk scarves, barely noticed. “We’d love to see that Kelly bag in black—oh, and maybe the taupe as well.”

The sales associate nodded. “Of course. Mr. Verstappen has his account on file for your purchases.”

Silence.

Emilie’s head snapped up so fast Isabelle was surprised she didn’t give herself whiplash.

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Emilie asked, her voice an octave higher than usual.

The associate remained composed. “Mr. Verstappen has set up a standing account for Miss Leclerc. She’s free to make any purchases at her convenience.”

Emilie turned to Isabelle so slowly and so dramatically that Isabelle knew she was never going to hear the end of this.

“Isabelle.” Emilie’s voice was deadly serious. “Are you telling me that Max—your Max—has a shopping account set up for you at Hermès? And you weren’t even going to mention it?”

Isabelle’s face burned. “I— I didn’t think it was important?”

Emilie clutched her own chest like she was on the verge of fainting. “Not important? Isabelle. Your boyfriend is Max Verstappen. He has a personal account at Hermès for you. That means you can walk in here at any time, pick whatever you want, and they just charge it to him?”

The sales associate, clearly trained to deal with these types of reactions, simply nodded. “That is correct.”

Emilie turned back to Isabelle, looking utterly scandalized. “And you don’t use it?”

“I— well, no,” Isabelle admitted, feeling like she was digging herself into a deeper hole. “I don’t need anything.”

Emilie dramatically staggered backward. “I’m sorry. You’re telling me that you could have been out here living your best trophy wife life, and you haven’t been?”

Isabelle groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have come today.”

Emilie turned back to the associate with a blinding smile. “Yes, please. Bring out everything.” Then, lowering her voice, she added, “And maybe a glass of champagne for me because I need to process the fact that my best friend is living in an actual fairy tale.”

The associate merely nodded, disappearing into the back.

Isabelle folded her arms, glaring at Emilie. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I’m being reasonable,” Emilie countered. “Because, let me get this straight—Max put his credit card on file at one of the most expensive boutiques in Monaco for you to use whenever you want, and you never told me?”

Isabelle groaned, covering her face. “I don’t even use it! I’ve never—”

Emilie held up a hand. “No, no, this is incredible. You could walk in here and buy, like, five bags, and they’d just say, ‘Of course, Miss Leclerc, Mr. Verstappen has already taken care of it.’”

“I’m not doing that!” Isabelle hissed, mortified.

Emilie smirked. “But you could.”

“Em—”

“No, no, let me have this moment.” Emilie leaned against the counter, shaking her head. “I knew he was obsessed with you, but this? This is next-level. Like, top-tier boyfriend behavior. Do you know how many women would kill for this?”

Isabelle sighed. “I don’t want to take advantage of him.”

Emilie threw up her hands. “You wouldn’t be! You’re his girlfriend! He’s obsessed with you! Have you met Max? If anything, he’s probably annoyed you don’t use it more.”

Emilie turned thoughtful for a moment. “Does he do this at other places too? Like, do you walk into Dior and they just start pulling things for you?”

“I don’t know!” Isabelle whisper-yelled. “I don’t go around testing it!”

“Well, you should,” Emilie said firmly. “Because if my boyfriend was this obscenely rich and obsessed with me, you’d best believe I’d be letting him spoil me on principle.”

Before Isabelle could argue, Emilie’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, then cackled. “Oh my God. I’m texting him.”

Isabelle’s eyes widened in horror. “No, do not—”

Too late. Emilie had already typed:

Emilie: Why didn’t you tell me you have a shopping account for Isabelle at Hermès? I just found out and I think I need medical attention.

Seconds later, Max responded.

Max: And?

Emilie turned her phone toward Isabelle with a smug grin. “Look at that. He’s not even fazed.”

Isabelle groaned.

A moment later, another message from Max came through.

Max: She never uses it. Tell her to buy something.

Emilie let out an actual shriek of delight. “I knew it.”

Isabelle covered her face with her hands. “I hate both of you.”

Emilie just smirked, turning back to the sales associate, who had just returned with an armful of options. “Alright, let’s start with the classics.” She turned to Isabelle with a wicked grin. “Because if you don’t pick something, I will.”

Isabelle knew, with absolute certainty, that she had lost this battle, but that didn’t mean she had to go down without a fight.

“I don’t need another bag,” she tried again, crossing her arms as Emilie eagerly surveyed the selection now laid out in front of them. The sales associate had clearly taken Emilie’s enthusiasm as permission to bring out the best pieces—the kind that weren’t just sitting out on the shelves.

Emilie rolled her eyes. “Need? Isabelle, we’re past ‘need.’ This is about principle. Your ridiculously rich boyfriend, who would literally hand you the world if he could, wants you to use his account. And here you are, acting like you don’t deserve it.”

Isabelle shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate Max’s generosity—it was just that… no one had ever really spoiled her before. She had spent so long being overlooked, so long having to sacrifice things for the sake of her family, that being on the receiving end of such thoughtful indulgence felt foreign.

Emilie must have sensed it because her teasing softened into something more gentle. “Hey,” she nudged Isabelle’s arm. “You know Max, right? He’s not the kind of guy who does things halfway. If he put his card on file here, it’s because he wants you to have nice things. Not because he expects anything, not because he’s showing off. Just because he loves you.”

Isabelle exhaled slowly. She did know that. She saw it in the way Max always made sure she ate before he did, in how he paid attention to the little things—how he remembered things about her that even her own family forgot.

Her fingers traced over the soft leather of a cream Verrou bag. It was beautiful. And maybe—just maybe—she could allow herself to accept this part of their relationship.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she looked up at the sales associate. “I’d like this one, please.”

Emilie let out a triumphant squeal. “Finally!”

The associate smiled. “A wonderful choice, Miss Leclerc. We’ll have it wrapped for you shortly.”

Isabelle bit her lip, suddenly feeling a little giddy. It was just a bag. But at the same time… it wasn’t. It was a reminder that, for the first time in her life, she was with someone who didn’t just see her—he cherished her.

As they waited, Emilie picked up her phone and quickly typed something. Isabelle frowned. “What are you doing?”

Emilie smirked. “Updating Max.”

A moment later, his response came through.

Max: Finally.

Isabelle groaned. “You two are a nightmare.”

Emilie grinned. “We’re your nightmare.”

And maybe, just maybe… Isabelle didn’t mind that so much.

***

The sun was warm on her skin as Isabelle let herself be pulled along Avenue de Monte-Carlo, Emilie dragging her from Valentino to Gucci to Miu Miu in a blur of bright storefronts and designer bags.

She should have been tired.

 Instead, she felt a little giddy — her new purchase swinging lightly from her hand, perfect indulgence.

It was a perfect afternoon.

 Until it wasn’t.

Isabelle had always known where she stood in her family. She had learned not to expect invitations, had conditioned herself to not mind when she was left out of things that should have been obvious.

But still—walking into Goyard with Emilie and coming face-to-face with her mother and her brothers’ girlfriends, all out shopping together like some picture-perfect family outing, stung.

They were all standing together, arms full of shopping bags, laughing about something before her mother’s eyes landed on her.

“Oh,” her mother blinked, clearly surprised to see her. “Isabelle.”

Isabelle forced a polite smile. “Maman.” She nodded at the other women. “I didn’t realize you were all going out today.”

The immediate flicker of guilt across her mother’s face told Isabelle everything she needed to know. They hadn’t forgotten to invite her. They just hadn’t thought to include her at all.

“Oh, it was just a last-minute thing,” her mother said quickly, like that made it better. “We thought we’d do a little shopping before lunch.”

A lunch Isabelle wasn’t invited to either, apparently.

Her brothers’ girlfriends, who had always slotted so seamlessly into the family, exchanged glances, clearly uncomfortable. One of them, Charlotte —Lorenzo’s girlfriend—offered a hesitant, “We didn’t think you’d be interested.”

As if Isabelle never had interests. As if she hadn’t spent years watching from the outside, always an afterthought.

Emilie, standing beside her, said nothing. But Isabelle could feel the rage radiating off of her, the way her best friend’s hands had curled into fists.

Isabelle inhaled slowly, pushing back the familiar wave of hurt. She had learned long ago that showing how much this bothered her never got her anywhere. So instead, she kept her voice light, pleasant—graceful in a way they didn’t deserve.

“Well, I hope you’re all having a lovely time,” she said smoothly. “It’s a beautiful day for shopping.”

Her mother smiled, relieved that Isabelle wasn’t making a scene. “Yes, it is. And what about you, ma chérie? Out with a friend?”

“Yes,” Isabelle said simply. “Just enjoying the afternoon.”

She felt Emilie shift beside her, felt the sudden tension in the way her best friend’s grip tightened around her shopping bag.

“Oh, we picked up something special, actually,” Emilie said, voice perfectly even—but Isabelle knew that tone. She was angry.

She held up the unmistakable Hermès bag. Her mother’s gaze flickered to the bag.

“That’s lovely,” she said, her tone still light.

Isabelle just hummed in response. “Well, we won’t keep you.”

And with that, she turned—head held high, posture poised—pulling Emilie along with her.

They were barely out of earshot before Emilie exploded.

“Are you kidding me?”

Isabelle exhaled slowly. “Emilie—”

“No, Belle, no,” Emilie fumed. “They just—what, decided you didn’t even exist today? Like, ‘oh, we’ll just go shopping without Isabelle, she won’t care’?” She scoffed. “And the fact that your mother didn’t even apologize—”

“Em,” Isabelle sighed. “It’s not—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s not a big deal,” Emilie cut in. “Because it is. And I know you. I know it hurts.”

Isabelle swallowed. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Emilie scoffed. “Fine. But you know who would be furious about this?”

Isabelle shot her a look.

Emilie smirked. “Your boyfriend.”

“Em—” she warned.

“Oh, don’t Em me,” Emilie huffed. “You know he’d lose his mind if he found out they just left you out like that.” She paused, then muttered, “Actually, I kind of want to tell him. Just to watch him get all—” She gestured vaguely. “Dutch and possessive and mad.”

Isabelle bit her lip. Because, yeah. Max would be furious.

Emilie turned, eyes blazing. “How are you not furious right now?”

Because she was furious. Because she was hurt. But she had learned—long, long ago—that showing it didn’t make a difference.

So instead, she just smiled faintly. “I have better things to focus on.”

***

Text Conversation: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: Just so you know, your girlfriend is too classy for her own good.

Max: ?

Emilie: We just ran into her mother and her brothers’ girlfriends while we were shopping.

Emilie: Guess who wasn’t invited on their little girls’ outing?

Max: Tell me you are kidding. 

Emilie: I wish I was. 

Emilie: They didn’t even try to hide it. Just said it was “last minute”. Charlotte said they didn’t think she’d “be interested”.

Max: Tell her to use the card.

Emilie: What card?

Max: The one in her wallet. Black Card. Behind the receipts she never throws away. My name on the back.  Hers on the front

Emilie: YOU GAVE HER A BLACK CARD???

Max: She never uses it. So tell her to. 

Emilie: i— oh my god

Max: Anything she wants. Anything that makes her feel the way they don’t.

Emilie: You’re insane

Emilie:  I love it

Max: Belle deserves better than scraps. 

Max:  and tell her I said if she doesn’t buy herself something outrageous, I will. 

Emilie: You’re dangerous when you’re emotional. 

Max: No. I’m dangerous when people hurt her

Emilie: Honestly? Same. 

Emilie: Consider it done. 

***

By the time Emilie got back to their café table, her hands were still shaking from how hard she was gripping her phone.

Isabelle barely glanced up from stirring her tea. Too calm. Way too calm for what had just happened.

Emilie stared at her for a moment — at the careful, practiced ease in Isabelle’s movements, at the way she tucked every ounce of hurt so deep inside you might almost miss it.

But Emilie knew her too well.

She could see the small tells. The stiffness in Isabelle’s shoulders. The slight tremor at the corner of her mouth. The way she stirred her tea even though it had long gone cold.

She hated it. Hated how often Isabelle had been forced to wear that mask around the people who should have loved her most. Hated that Isabelle had spent so much of her life being overlooked, sidelined, treated like an afterthought in her own family.

Emilie set her jaw and dropped into the chair across from her.

"We’re using the card," she announced without preamble.

Isabelle blinked up at her, perfectly innocent. "What card?"

Emilie narrowed her eyes. "Don’t play dumb. The card."

Isabelle sighed, setting her spoon down neatly. "I’m not using it, Em."

"You are," Emilie said, practically vibrating with frustration. "Max said you should."

"He always says that," Isabelle muttered, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "He was half-joking when he gave it to me."

Emilie stared at her — this girl she loved like a sister — and felt the white-hot burn of protectiveness flood her chest.

"Belle," she said flatly. "He put your name on a black Amex. That’s not a joke. That’s basically marriage proposal."

Isabelle flushed lightly but lifted her chin, stubborn even in her embarrassment. "It’s for emergencies."

Emilie made a strangled noise. "And what exactly do you call today? Getting iced out of your own family in public counts as an emergency in my book!"

Isabelle shook her head, the corner of her mouth tugging in a small, resigned smile. "Retail therapy doesn’t fix anything."

Emilie leaned in, fire still burning under her ribs. "It fixes your mood," she said fiercely. "And it reminds everyone watching that you’re not some forgotten little sister. You’re the woman whose boyfriend gave her a credit limit bigger than their combined mortgage."

Isabelle gave her a sharp look. "Emilie," she said warningly. “I literally just bought a Hermès bag.”

"And?" Emilie demanded. "You earned it."

Because Isabelle never asked for anything.

 Because Isabelle spent her whole life making herself smaller, quieter, easier — trying not to take up space that no one seemed willing to offer her.

And now?

Now she had someone who saw her, who chose her, and Emilie would be damned if she let Isabelle keep hiding from that.

"I’m just saying," Emilie pressed, voice gentler now, "Max didn’t give you that card because he wanted you to buy him groceries. He gave it to you because he wanted you to know you’re taken care of. No conditions. No strings."

Isabelle’s hands curled slightly around her teacup.

She looked so small in that moment, so heartbreakingly unsure of her own worth, and Emilie’s chest ached.

"Belle..." she said softly. "You deserve to be someone’s priority. And he’s trying to show you that you already are."

Outside, Monte Carlo carried on — laughter, footsteps, the clatter of shop doors swinging open and shut — oblivious to the way Isabelle was holding herself together with sheer force of will.

Finally, Isabelle let out a shaky breath and gave Emilie a small, reluctant smile.

"Maybe just... one thing," she said quietly.

Emilie grinned like she’d just won the Monaco Grand Prix. "One thing now," she said smugly. "Ten things later."

Isabelle laughed — properly, this time — and the sound bubbled up between them, fragile and bright and so achingly beautiful that Emilie almost teared up.

She would burn the whole damn world down to protect that laugh.

"And for the record," Emilie added, gathering her bag with a wink, "if you don’t use it, I will."

"I think that would technically be fraud," Isabelle said, smiling into her tea.

"Semantics," Emilie said breezily. "Let’s go make Max proud."

And for once — just once — Isabelle let herself be pulled to her feet without arguing, letting herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she was allowed to be loved exactly as she was.

***

The garage buzzed around Max — the usual sounds of a race weekend: drills, chatter, tires being rolled out, pit crew moving like clockwork. He should have been in the zone. Usually, he was.

But not today.

Today, he was angry.

Not the hot, reckless kind of anger that made his hands shake on a steering wheel —

 No, this was quieter. Sharper.

 The kind that sat in his chest like a stone, heavy and cold.

He thought about Isabelle standing there, smiling politely while her own family overlooked her like she was invisible.

He thought about the way she brushed it off, like she didn’t even expect to be seen anymore.

It made him want to punch something.

 Or someone.

Preferably a Leclerc.

He was mid-checking the tire pressures on the sheet when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Max glanced around, making sure no one was watching too closely, then slipped it out quickly.

Notification: American Express: €9.50 spent at Seaside Juicery.

Max stared at it. For a beat too long.

Then, despite himself — despite everything — he smiled.

The smallest, stupidest purchase imaginable.

 Nine euros.

 Smoothie, maybe. A Tea. A little something.

 But she had used it.

She had listened.

He tucked the phone back into his pocket, feeling stupidly giddy, the anger in his chest cracking just a little.

"Something good?" GP asked, wandering over with a tablet tucked under his arm.

Max shrugged, too casual. "She bought something."

GP blinked. "Who?"

"Isabelle. With the card I gave her. Nine euros," Max said, smirking.

GP laughed under his breath. "Well, congratulations. That's basically free compared to the psychological warfare you went through to get her to accept it."

Max just smiled — that rare, real one that didn’t make it to the cameras.

There was a short pause as the engineers passed by with fresh tire sets, shouting numbers back and forth.

Then Max added, way too casually, "She also bought a Hermes Bag. And she quit her job."

GP turned, full attention on him now. "What?"

"Yeah." Max reached for a bottle of water, twisting the cap off. "Told them to go fuck themselves. Finally."

GP whistled low. "Good for her."

Max shrugged like it was nothing. "She agreed to be my trophy wife for the week while she figures out what she wants to do."

GP choked on his laugh.

"Trophy wife?" he repeated, like he needed clarification.

Max deadpanned, "She makes coffee. Looks pretty. Yells at me to sleep more. Very demanding job."

GP shook his head, grinning. "You’re unbelievable."

Max’s expression softened slightly, the edge still there under it.

"I just want her to have something that’s hers," he said quietly. "Not whatever scraps her family bothers to throw her."

GP studied him for a long beat, then clapped him on the shoulder.

"You’re a pain in the ass, Verstappen," he said, voice light but warm. "But you’re a good one."

Max only shrugged again and grabbed his helmet, fitting it under his arm.

"She deserves better," he said simply. "Always has."

And then he headed toward the car, a little lighter than he'd been an hour ago — a little less furious, and a lot more in love.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Max: I got another card notification

Max: felt very proud

Max: thought maybe you finally bought something for yourself

Isabelle: …it was necessary

Max: €160 on cat toys is necessary??

Isabelle: YES

Isabelle:  They’re enrichment tools. 

Max: They’re getting a better life than I did growing up

Isabelle: They’re very intelligent

Isabelle:  They need stimulation

Max: You bought them a mini velvet couch.

Isabelle: It’s chic and it matches the living room

Max: You’re matching the decor for the cats now??

Isabelle: …a little

Isabelle: You said anything I wanted

Isabelle: I want the cats to live in luxury

Max: I respect the commitment

Max:  Does this mean i’m getting upgraded toys too?

Isabelle: Do you need stimulation enrichment?!

Max: If it comes with you feeding me treats and scratching my head too, yes. 

Isabelle: MAX

Max: 😂

Max: “enrichment tools” she says

Max:  You bought them a miniature sofa!

Isabelle: It matches the living room aesthetic. 

Max: We are officially insane. 

Max:  We have matching furniture with the cats

Isabelle: You say that like it’s a bad thing

Max: It’s not.  I’m obsessed with you and apparently with our spoilt cats too. 

Isabelle: You started this. 

Max: True

Max: I am so proud of my little trophy wife spoiling the cats instead of herself. 

Isabelle: Sassy and Jimmy deserve nice things.

Max: So do you. 

Isabelle:  I’m working on it

Max: You’re perfect and the cats are about to live better than 90% of Monaco. 

Isabelle: As they should

Max: Send me pictures when it arrives

Max: I want to see Sassy sitting on her tiny couch like she owns the penthouse.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 2

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 4.9k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

After weeks of all-nighters and cramming for finals, sleeping in on your first morning at the beach house felt incredible. It was only 9:30 when you finally stirred in the comfy bed, but it felt late in the day.

Coming down the stairs in your pjs and slippers, you smiled at the sound of your sister’s voice, joking around with her old friends. Your goal this trip was for her to have a good time, and despite the emotional rollercoaster of seeing Rafe yesterday, at this moment, you were glad you decided to stay. You entered the room to see half the house was awake, though neither Rafe or Tom had made an appearance yet.

“Ladies and gentleman, it’s Kerri Walsh Jennings!” Topper deepened his voice like a sports announcer when you entered the kitchen. The few people who were up all turned to you, playfully bowing and applauding like you were a true Olympian. You grinned and rolled your eyes, surprised at how comfortable you felt with the unprecedented attention.

Topper was at the stove flipping pancakes for everyone’s breakfast, wearing an apron that said “kiss the cook.” As you approached the kitchen island to grab a stool next to your sister, he leaned over, holding the spatula like a microphone.

“So tell us, Kerri, now that you’ve won the gold what will you do next?”

“Well, Top,” you played along. “First, I’m going to get some coffee…then I’m going straight to Disneyland!”

Everyone in the kitchen laughed, making the tips of your ears turn red. No one ever laughed at your jokes in high school, not that you were confident enough to make many. Rafe would tell you sometimes that you were funny, so long as no one was around to hear him admit it.

“Well I can help you with the first part,” Topper said, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot.

“Wow, so domestic of you, Topper,” you teased as he poured your steaming coffee in front of you.

“He’s our house mother,” Carter said, smiling wide at Topper who did a jokey little curtsy motion. Clearly this was a running joke between them.

Topper handed you a plate of pancakes, which Kelce promptly reached over your shoulder to steal. 

“Since when are you such an athlete?” Kelce asked, his mouth already full with your breakfast.

You told them all about your team at school, surprised out of your mind that everyone was actually listening intently.

Rafe woke up groggy and sore, ducking his head as he walked through the basement and made his way up the rickety steps. As he reached for the handle of the door which opened into the kitchen, he smiled at the sound of your voice on the other side. His smile quickly faded when he heard Kelce interrupt you with, “Yeah and you kicked Rafe’s ass, too, made him your bitch.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” 

Every head in the kitchen whipped towards the sound of Rafe’s voice as he emerged, except for yours. You shuffled slightly on your stool and sipped your coffee. Rafe didn’t miss the way you were ignoring him, his eyes grazing quickly over the smoothe skin of your shoulders before redirecting to anything he could find. 

“Cute apron, Top,” he landed on.

“Thanks man,” Topper said, ignoring his mocking tone. “Want some flapjacks?”

“Ew, who calls them flapjacks?” Carter burst out laughing. 

“Well now you don’t get any,” Topper scolded, pulling her plate away from her and handing it to Rafe.

“I don’t want ‘em if Carter’s put her mouth near them,” Rafe mocked. “We don’t know where she’s been.”

“Says the guy who licked the gym floor in seventh grade,” you said quietly.

The entire room came to a halt, everyone surprised at the sound of you joining in on the teasing. No one had actually heard you address Rafe yet. The awkwardness hung in the air, all eyes going wide as they waited to see if the notorious hothead was going to be able to take what he was dishing out. You just picked at your pancakes with your fork and hoped everyone would move on, but Rafe smirked at you, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“That was on a dare,” he defended himself.

When you finally looked up at him, your stomach twisted into a knot as you noticed how cute he looked in his white undershirt and grey sweats, messy bedhead and sleepy eyes. You immediately regretted acknowledging that you remembered something he did so long ago. Now, he was looking at you with something like excitement, smug that you were talking to him, like your big triumph the day before had never happened. 

“Oh, I didn’t remember that part.” It was a lie, you remembered everything he ever said or did.

Rafe’s face dropped at your impassive tone, his brief window of hope that all was forgiven slammed shut.

To your great relief, Tom chose that moment to enter the room, drawing the attention away from you and Rafe. He had apparently been out on a run, and his under armor shirt, wet with sweat, clinged to his form to reveal a sculpted chest below.

“How we doin’ everyone?” His cheery voice boomed. He slapped Topper on the back before giving Kelce a frat bro handshake across the counter. “What do we have here?” He whistled appreciatively at the spread Topper had put out.

As Topper rattled on about the many flavors and shapes of pancakes he could offer, Tom looked over at you with a cheeky smile and mouthed “good morning!” You smiled back with a little wave, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the way he was singling you out. 

After the volleyball game last night, you’d all gone to a seafood restaurant on the water. Tom had chosen the seat next to you, and made extremely pleasant dinner company. He asked you all about yourself, about school and what you were planning for the future. He was a great listener, and you were so glad to have someone to chat normally with without the baggage of your childhood hanging over your head. You hoped the week would hold many more cozy conversations with him.

Unbeknownst to you, Carter was watching as you smiled at him in the kitchen, and so was Rafe. They had very different looks on their face as they realized at the same moment that something was happening between you and Tom.

After Topper and Kelce reclaimed Tom’s attention, talking over each other about their plans to go fishing later, Carter squeezed your elbow and motioned with a nod for you to follow her out onto the patio. 

“Ummm, okay, what was that?” Carter asked with arched eyebrows once you were settled on the patio couch next to her.

“Oh my god I know. I shouldn’t have said anything, do you think everyone will think it’s weird I remember something he did in seventh grade?” You asked worriedly.

Carter scrunched her brows in confusion for a minute before waving you off with her hand. “Oh, no not Rafe, he’s old news. I’m talking about your little moment with Tom!”

“Oh, uh,” you cleared your throat, embarrassed that you were still lingering on Rafe when she clearly wasn’t. “I don’t know, he’s nice.”

“He’s fucking gorgeous is what he is,” she fanned herself theatrically.

“Are you into him?” Your stomach dropped at the thought that she might be interested. In your eyes, Carter always had first pick, and surely if Tom thought she was interested he’d choose her over you in a heartbeat.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m having too much fun messing with Topper.”

You laughed hard at that, “yeah, I noticed. Are you two back on again?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “You think if I play my cards right I could get him to propose?”

“I think you could probably get him to do just about anything,” you chuckled.

“Okay, then it’s settled, I’ve got Topper and you,” she poked at your side and you swatted her hand away, “will make a move on Tom.”

“I don’t know about ‘make a move,” you took a long sip of your coffee, suddenly anxious.

Carter eyed you curiously, recognizing the insecurity she hoped you had left behind now that things were going so well. She didn’t understand how you still couldn’t see how amazing you are, but she was determined to prove it to you by the end of this trip.

Rafe did his best not to stare at you through the sliding door, but when he heard your melodic laugh float in through the screen, he couldn’t help the way his head snapped toward the sound, wishing desperately that it was him making you laugh like that. You used to laugh at all his jokes, and he’d taken it for granted. The sad thing was, he actually loved hanging out with you. You had a great sense of humor, and he always felt so comfortable when it was just you and him. He knows now he should’ve just called it what it was, been with you in public too. But he had so many eyes on him back then, and he was worried what people would think. Plus, he knew you’d stick by him even if he treated you like shit, and he took advantage of that. He kicked himself mentally, feeling like a Grade A chump while you sat there, looking beautiful in the ocean breeze, smiling through the window at some guy you’d met yesterday.

As he lost himself in his thoughts, Topper noticed him staring at you, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

“She looks good, huh?” He asked Rafe.

“What?” Rafe shook his head as if he could erase the thoughts that were plaguing him. “Who?”

“Oh, come on,” Topper nodded towards you and Carter on the deck.

“I dunno,” Rafe tried to play it off. “She looks the same I guess, a little different.”

“Bro,” Topper gave him an incredulous look. “She’s a fucking smokeshow. You’re into her, don’t even try and fool me.”

“If you're so into her, why don’t you go for her?” Rafe snapped at him.

Topper shook his head, “maybe because I’m not the one she was obsessed with for a decade.”

“She wasn’t obsessed with me,” Rafe protested. “We were friends.”

“Right,” Topper said sarcastically. “And I was a number one draft pick. Dude, she was in love with you, everyone knew it.”

Rafe leaned forward on the counter, propped on his elbows, looking down at his uneaten pancakes with a frown. His stomach twisted with guilt. Of course everyone knew, he knew it too. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t use your adoration of him to his advantage from time to time. Okay, all the time. He couldn’t really blame you for still being mad at him, he was a dick. But he liked to think he’d grown some since then, not that you had any reason to give him a chance to prove it.

“I think she’s into your buddy, Dom, or whatever his name is,” Rafe grumbled.

“First of all,” Topper pointed the spatula at him, “you know his name is Tom. And second of all, I love the guy, but he’s got nothing on you. Give me one day, she’ll be back.”

“Don’t do anything weird, man,” Rafe warned, cringing at the thought of what kind of damage an unsupervised Topper could inflict.

“Don’t worry dude, I got it handled,” Topper assured him.

Rafe just chuckled and sipped his coffee, knowing this was a losing battle, “whatever you say, Top.”

The door slid open and you and Carter reentered the kitchen. Tom stood from his place at the little breakfast nook when you walked in, and you were relieved that he ended his conversation with Maddie and Sabrina so abruptly at the sight of you. He smiled down at you before heading into the kitchen to help Topper clean up. Rafe was noticeably not helping, sitting at the counter scrolling on his phone.

“No phones,” Carter said, swiping it from him. 

“Give it,” he held his large hand out to her, jaw ticking with annoyance.

“C’mon Rafe, don’t you want to live in the present?” She badgered.

He tried to grab it quickly, but she lifted it above her head, tossing it to Kelce on the other side of the counter, who tossed it to Topper, and the game of hot potato continued, much to Rafe’s chagrin.

“Y’all are children,” he scowled, sitting back on the stool in defeat.

“Who are you even texting? All your friends are here,” Carter jeered.

“I was looking up directions to the grocery store, seeing as there’s no fucking food in this house besides beer, and apparently pancake mix,” Rafe explained.

“No need,” Topper said. “Tom, Kelce and I are spending the day on the water and we’ll grab some stuff on the way back.”

Carter frowned at the thought of both of your boys being gone the whole day, leaving little to distract you from Rafe. This wouldn’t do.

“No, you can’t go out today, we're having a cookout!” She announced to the room.

“We are?” Kelce scratched his head.

“Yes, we are,” Carter nodded confidently, wrapping her arm around Topper’s waist, which you knew was all it would take to get him to agree. “And mom here is going to grill for us.”

“Oh am I?” Topper asked, eyebrows raised in amusement, not exactly protesting.

“Yes, so someone else will need to go get the food,” Carter continued. You knew her well enough to see that a whole plan was unfolding in her head. “Sissy, why don’t you go?”

“That’s…fine,” you agreed reluctantly, narrowing your eyes at her, trying to figure out her play. “I need someone to go with me though, we’ll need a lot of stuff.”

Carter and Topper smiled in sync, both thinking they’d just come up with the best idea anyone has ever had.

At the same moment that Carter blurted out, “Tom can go with you!” Topper loudly suggested, “Rafe can take you!”

Your lips forming a tight line, you gave them both an exasperated look. Their heads snapped toward each other, eyeing each other suspiciously. Rafe scratched the back of his neck, annoyed at Topper for butting in and hating himself for hoping you’d choose to go with him and not Tom.

Tom, meanwhile, was watching all four of you from the corner of the room, never more confused in his life.

“It’s cool,” he said hesitantly, the awkwardness palpable. “All three of us can go.”

“Fine, but I’m driving,” Rafe stood from his seat. “Can I have my phone back now please?”

He reached his hand to Kelce, who was the last to have it. Kelce panicked, wanting to keep the game going, and tossed it to you. You very nearly dropped it, letting it bounce between your hands but eventually securing it before it fell.

You just looked at it in your hands, then up to Rafe and Tom, searching for any way out of what was sure to be an uncomfortable outing without being rude. You came up with nothing.

“I guess I’ll go get dressed,” you handed Rafe his phone, making Kelce shake his head at you in disappointment.

The hum of the truck’s engine was the only sound in the car for a solid five minutes. You sat in the front seat, Tom having opened your door for you, while Rafe drove. You suddenly couldn’t remember what people do with their hands when they’re not driving. Where the hell do you put your hands? Tom’s voice cut through your internal panic.

“So, uh Rafe, Top says you went to Chapel Hill?” He inquired, sitting forward in the backseat so his head appeared between you and Rafe,

“Still do,” Rafe said curtly.

You looked at Rafe for the first time since pulling out of the beach house driveway. You wanted to ask him why he hadn’t graduated on time, always more invested in his academics than he was, but you were trying to pretend you didn’t care.

“Nice, man,” Tom tried to keep the conversation going. “I applied there, it’s hard to get in.”

“I guess I just hit the books a little harder than you then,” Rafe shrugged.

A scoff escaped you before you had the chance to stifle it. Rafe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“What was that?” Rafe looked sideways at you for a moment.

“Nothing,” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“No, please share,” he prodded. You couldn’t believe he was copping an attitude with you.

“It’s just, I’m sure your last name had nothing to do with your acceptance,” you quipped.

Rafe’s jaw clenched and you smirked in satisfaction, pleased that you had gotten under his skin. Tom’s eyes flicked between the two of you, trying to decipher the vibe.

You were glad he didn’t try to attempt any further small talk. Once you got to the grocery store, you divided the shopping list three ways and split up to your designated aisles. You filled your cart as fast as you could, eager to get this shopping trip over with.

After checking everything off your list, you rounded the corner of the produce section toward the registers, your cart nearly crashing into Rafe’s. His entire shopping cart was filled with alcohol. You laughed at the sight. 

“What?” Rafe asked defensively.

“What are the rest of us gonna drink?” You smirked.

“Shut up,” he grinned. “It’s not all for me.”

“Okay but where is the stuff you were supposed to get?”

“It’s under there somewhere,” he mused.

“Sure,” you just shook your head with a smile and kept walking towards the register.

“Shit, wait,” Rafe rolled his cart to you and ran back down one of the aisles.

“No don’t worry about me, I got it,” you muttered to yourself bitterly.

You started pushing both carts but Rafe appeared quickly at your side again.

“Got it,” he breathed, adding one more thing to his cart.

It was a case of Redbull. You shifted on your feet uncomfortably, looking down into his cart. Redbull was his drink of choice in high school, you used to buy him one every day and bring it to him after practice, like a puppy fetching the morning paper. Rafe eyed you nervously, your soured expression leading him to believe you remembered just as well as he did. 

“Old habits die hard, huh?” You joked, trying to break the tense moment. 

“Yeah, can’t seem to kick that one,” he replied, relieved that you were the first to acknowledge it.

Tom caught up with you at check-out, his cart actually full of the things he was supposed to get. The three of you unloaded your goods to be rung up by a 16-year-old cashier who could not have been more annoyed that you had chosen his register.

Tom jumped in to help bag the groceries, chatting happily with the bag boy as he assisted. Rafe, however, stood there staring at his phone. 

After you finished emptying your cart, you watched Tom with a smile while he charmed the grocery store staff. Rafe looked up from his screen with a frown, stomach dropping when he saw that you were watching Tom with an affectionate smile.

“Is that everything?” The cashier asked hopefully.

You were about to say "yes" and also maybe "sorry" when Rafe cut you off.

“No wait, these too,” he reached toward the shelf and grabbed your favorite candy, looking at you expectantly as he handed it to the cashier.

“Your favorite,” he explained bashfully at the sight of your furrowed brows.

“Yeah, it is,” you agreed. “Just surprised you remember. Thanks.”

You looked at him for a moment longer than you should, your eyes lingering on each other’s as you shared another silent memory. You felt a twinge of nostalgia that you knew you shouldn’t.

While you and Rafe looked at each other, Tom pulled out his black card and entered it into the machine. Rafe noticed a moment too late and scrambled to pull his wallet from his pocket, fumbling for his credit card.

“Oh no, hey man, I was gonna get it,” Rafe finally pulled out the credit card he was looking for but Tom was already signing the screen with his finger.

“No worries dude,” Tom brushed him off politely. “You can get me back later this week.”

Rafe was the most competitive person you knew, and the richest, surely he wasn’t going to let another guy pay for everything and walk away. He opened his mouth like he was going to argue with Tom, but with a glance back at you he closed it again. Then he carried as many bags to the car as one person could possibly hold, mumbling something like "multiple trips are for pussies." 

Another fifteen minutes of painful silence might just make your head explode, you thought. The second you were back in the truck, the bed overflowing with groceries, you asked Rafe for the aux.

“What are you gonna play?” He sideyed you as he held it just out of reach. You leaned across the console to snatch it from his hands, and he felt pins and needles where your hand had brushed him. He wondered if you realized it was the first time you'd touched each other in four years.

The two of you had always fought over the aux, you’d eventually give in to his pouting and listened to his shitty house mixes and soundcloud rappers.

“Don’t worry about it,” you waved him off with a grin.

Four years ago, you would have been way too nervous to play what you truly wanted to listen to, afraid Rafe wouldn’t think it was cool enough. But now, you pressed play on your go-to playlist with gusto and beamed when your absolute favorite song started booming through his subwoofers. 

Rafe tried to keep his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t stop them from dancing back over to you as you sang along happily to your music. You rolled the window down, letting the humid Florida air raise your hair in a wave around you. You giggled and tried to tame it, eventually giving up and letting it whip around your face.

There was something so light about you. Something joyful and at peace. He placed both hands on the steering wheel, trying to ground himself, jealous of your carefree spirit. Whatever intangible thing you had managed to capture in your years apart, he wanted it. And it hit him like a lightning bolt, a bittersweet truth he had fought for so many years - he wanted you.

One song rolled into the next, and Rafe searched for something to say to keep up the almost-friendly banter you had begun in the store, but before he could come up with anything, Tom sat forward suddenly.

“Oh hey I love this song!” Tom informed you.

“Me too!” You turned to smile at him, and Rafe listened enviously as you and Tom chatted about the many favorite artists you have in common the rest of the way home.

The house was quiet when you returned, everyone either taking their daily hangover nap or down lounging by the beach. Rafe’s hands turned white from once again carrying as many plastic bags as he could. You tried not to laugh, and tried not to notice the way his biceps bulged under his tight t-shirt, but you failed at both.

“Are you laughing at me again?” He raised his eyebrows in amusement, placing the bags on the counter. “What is it this time?”

“Sorry, you’re just so helpful all of a sudden,” you pointed out with a smirk.

“Well bag boy over there wasn’t helping,” he nodded towards the patio, where Tom was taking a phone call.

“He said it’s a work call,” you defended him. “He just got a job in New York apparently, a Wall Street thing.

“Whatever,” Rafe mumbled. What he wanted to say was “since when are you two best friends?” but he had already been fairly gruff with you today and he was trying to refocus on his goal of getting you to like him again.

You and Rafe put the groceries away in silence for a while. You tried to find the right way to approach the question you were dying to ask, failing to convince yourself you didn't care about the answer.

“So,” you started nervously. “You didn’t graduate this year?”

Rafe’s shoulders tensed as he tried to make more room in the pantry.

“Nope,” he said shortly.

“Did you take some time off?”

He was torn between being glad that you were talking to him and mad that this was the topic you’d chosen to break the ice with.

“No, I-uh,” he cleared his throat. “I failed a couple classes my first year so I’m still a few credits behind.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, leaning down to put the ribs for the cookout in the large freezer.

“It’s my own fault,” he shrugged. “I was an idiot back then.”

When you stood from the freezer to grab another rack of ribs, you were surprised to see Rafe standing close, his body looming as he looked down at you.

“I was an idiot before then, too,” he continued, voice low and uncertain.

Everything in your mind went fuzzy as the blood rushed to your face. This was the first time you could smell him, and it familiarity of his scent made you feel like you were being transported back in time. You fought the urge to inhale deeply, greedy for the rush of him filling your senses.

“Before then?” You blinked up at him.

Rafe struggled to find his next words. It took everything in you not to fill in the blanks for him, like you were back in high school slipping him the answers to a test he hadn’t studied for. But this time, you needed him to find the answers all on his own. You swallowed hard, leaving silence for the words he was searching for. 

Before he could find them, Topper and Carter came barreling into the kitchen, mid-argument as always. They stopped short when they saw the scene in front of them. Rafe stepped away from you so quickly you could feel a woosh of wind in his wake. It was eerily reminiscent of your teenage years, Rafe separating himself from you as soon as there was anyone around to see you together.

“Everything okay?” Carter asked tensely, noticing the way your shoulders had fallen.

“Fine,” Rafe said, tossing the rest of the plastic bags in the trash and heading down the stairs to his basement bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Damn, you two did good,” Topper said, admiring the cornucopia of food you’d brought back.

“You three,” Carter corrected. “Tom went too.”

She walked up next to you and lowered her voice, a sly smile on her face, “and how did it go with Tom?”

You didn’t match her playful mood, completely preoccupied thinking about the moment you and Rafe had just shared. Was he about to apologize to you? What would you have let him do if your sister and psuedo-brother-in-law had entered the room just a minute later?

“It was fine,” you said distractedly, closing the fridge and heading upstairs to your room.

Carter turned on her heel and looked at Topper with a frown, shocked to find him beaming back at her.

“What are you smiling for?” She snarled.

“Oh nothing, seems like my plan is working is all,” he grinned. “They were standing awfully close when we walked in.”

“Your plan?” She stepped closer to him, arms crossed. “What are you up to Thornton?”

“Just playing a little Cupid,” he smiled proudly.

“Okay well you can go ahead and put down the bow and arrow, because I’ve already got that covered,” she informed him.

“Really?” He asked in surprise. “I thought you hated Rafe.”

“Rafe? Ew, no, I’m talking about Tom, obviously,” she snapped.

“Your sister and Tom? Nahhh, do you not see how she and Rafe have been looking at each other? It’s so obvious,” he scoffed.

“You know what else is obvious? That Rafe’s still a dick and he doesn’t deserve her,” Carter argued.

“He’s actually grown up a lot,” Topper said, surprising Carter with the serious shift in his tone. “He’s been through some stuff, college hasn’t been easy for him. He could use a win.”

Carter considered this, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the years of bitterness she held for Rafe.

“Well, he had his chance. He had millions of chances with her and he fumbled every one,” she said.

“I know he did, but under it all he’s a good person. And I think good people deserve second chances,” Topper explained.

“Not when they hurt my sister,” she concluded. “I won’t allow it.”

Topper's eyes creased with his smile as he looked down at her, loving her steely look and pursed lips as she put her hands on her hips. 

“You’re still so bossy,” he smiled, sliding closer to her until their chests were nearly touching. “I know we’re supposed to be fighting, but it’s kinda hot.”

He leaned forward to plant a little kiss on her lips, like he’d done a million times before. Carter leaned back, leaving his puckered lips hanging.

“Oh no,” she pushed him back, making him frown. “You don’t get to touch me until you join Team Tom.”

“Nuh-uh! Team Rafe for life baby,” he crossed his arms to match her stance, recovering quickly, more than used to being rejected by her.

She studied him suspiciously, wondering how quickly he’d crack if she actually withheld their inevitable beach trip hook-up. But he didn’t budge, he was as serious about this as she was.

“Fine,” she said. “The game is so on.”

(Chapter 3)

a/n: so tell me... are we Team Tom or Team Rafe?

please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[andvys]

The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter ten

⭐︎ Turn me into something tragic, just for you, I let it happen

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, insecurities, jealousy, mentions of past stancy, mentions of cheating, mentions of heartbreak and unrequited feelings. post apocalypse au, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of the drinking game leaves you feeling angry and bitter, and the others confused when you greet everyone with a cold shoulder -- showing a side of you they didn't know you had.

Word count: 12.7k

Author's note: I'm back from vacation and I wrote this in like two days! This and the next chapter are ones I've been excited for the most to write! And me and @hellfire--cult can't wait for y'all to read this hehe. Roe helped a lot with this one, especially with all the dialogues! And also thank you for beta reading and fixing my dumb mistakes bby

series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

For the first time in a while, you hate the way the sun shines into your face when you open your eyes this morning. You take deep breaths, glaring at the light. Your palm is pressed against the mattress beneath you. You know you should get up, but you don’t feel ready yet. Your head pounds a little, and your eyes feel sore. 

You barely slept last night. Too many thoughts kept you awake, along with all the revelations you got. 

For months, you had been traveling with them, and no one bothered to tell you of Steve and Nancy’s history. Of what they once were. Of how friendship wasn’t the only thing between them. And you know that maybe it shouldn’t matter, maybe it’s not that big of a deal, maybe it’s not even of importance anymore. He did say that it was only high school love, and high school was years ago. But it still rubs you the wrong way that they didn’t mention it once, especially Steve. He told you of what that girlfriend of his did to him, of how she hurt him, cheated on him, and dumped him to be with someone else. Why didn’t he tell you then that it was her? 

Now you can’t help but feel anger and a sliver of resentment towards her for what she did to him. Even if it doesn’t matter to him now, it mattered to him then. Even if he doesn’t love her now, he loved her then, puppy love or not. She broke his heart. And it pains you to know that he suffered because of her. 

Now they are friends, and he can act like nothing ever happened. How? You don’t understand. 

Nancy’s confession led you to wake up with anger in your heart this morning. 

You turn around and face the rest of the RV. It’s empty. Eddie and Nancy probably left to check out the nearby town, leaving Steve out there by himself. 

You’re not sure if you are ready to face him after your conversation with him in the RV last night. After what he said to you. 

Steve’s confession led you to wake up with sadness in your soul. 

You wish you had known sooner. 

You wish you had known sooner about them and about being a goddamn placeholder for the best friend he lost.

If you knew, maybe you could have saved yourself at least. 

With a sigh, you push yourself up. You don’t hurry out of the RV this morning like usual, desperate for a cup of coffee – even if you are, you aren’t ready to look into his stupidly gorgeous eyes. 

You take your time getting dressed and brushing your teeth in the tiny bathroom. This is a luxury you didn’t have when you traveled alone. You didn’t always have a bathroom. You sometimes traveled for days without finding a roof to sleep under. You brushed your teeth using a water bottle to rinse your mouth with. You washed your hair and your body in lakes. If you were lucky, you found houses with water tanks that allowed you to take showers… even if only cold ones, but you were just glad to be able to properly clean yourself. 

You are content here, but you also can’t wait to get home and find comfort again. After last night, you want nothing more than a warm bath, the stew and homemade bread that your dad always makes, a big hug from your mom, and your brother’s stupid attempt to make you laugh. 

You miss them. You miss them more than anything today. 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you braid your hair. You hate how puffy your eyes look today and how those circles under them are darker than usual. You look so different from how you used to look before the world changed. The lack of food is seen on your body nowadays. 

You reach for the hair tie around your wrist, not the lilac colored one he gave to you. Now you wonder why he gave it to you. You know it’s Robin’s. You had a hunch, and now you know. 

A huff falls from your lips, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at yourself for getting your hopes up once more, let alone in a world like this. Of course, he had a reason to give you a chance, to like you. He wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t gotten something out of it… right? Why else did he change his mind about you so quickly after getting out of Hawkins? It wasn’t only guilt, it was something else too. 

You put your jacket on and zip it up, and eye the yellow colored scarf on the couch. You want to leave it there so badly. The bitterness inside you is strong… though not strong enough for you to not put it on. 

You don’t notice the way Steve’s eyes light up when you open the door and step outside into the cold. He is standing in the snow with one hand on his hip and a mug in his other hand. The smell of coffee and snow mixes together. The pot is still steaming, your mug is waiting for you on the small table you used for cooking last night. 

“Good morning, Sunshine.” Steve smiles at you, eying the scarf around your neck. 

“Morning.” You mumble, unable to even try and sound more cheerful. 

Steve furrows his eyebrows, his smile fading a bit as he takes in the look on your face. The circles under your eyes, the sad but also… angry look on your face. It’s concerning to see you like this – the only time he saw that facial expression and heard that tone in your voice was when you all just hit the road, after he had snapped at you in front of Robin’s grave. 

“For someone who didn’t drink, you sure do look hungover.” Steve attempts to make you chuckle, though all he gets is a half hearted smile. A weird feeling settles in his chest at that. “Coffee…?” 

He searches for your eyes, for your smile. But you hide from him, looking down as you make your way down the stairs. 

“Yeah.” 

Steve nods and sets his mug down. He grabs your mug and pours the coffee in. He prepares it for you, how you like it – way too goddamn sweet. He stirs it so the sugar dissolves. 

“Here,” he says, looking back up at you, stepping towards you to hand you the coffee.

You take it from his hands, forcing a smile onto your face as you glance at him. You try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat over the way he looks down at you, over the way he put three teaspoons of sugar into your coffee… just how you like it, over the way his touch feels when his fingers brush against yours. 

“Thank you,” you whisper as you wrap both hands around the warm mug. You retreat and break eye contact, missing the way his face falls as worry takes over. 

You sit down on the way too cold camping chair. You take a look around as you take a sip. 

Steve picks up his mug again and makes his way to your side, not hesitating to pull his chair closer and sit down beside you. He turns to face you, not even hiding his stare. 

You said four words. Only four words. You start rambling the moment you smell the coffee in the air. You are never this quiet. Never. You are just looking at the field ahead of you, drinking your coffee in silence. 

“Sunshine, is everything okay?” He doesn’t hesitate to ask. “You’re not feeling sick again, are you?” 

Guilt fills your chest at the worry in his voice. But warmth spreads through you as well, knowing that he noticed. 

You shake your head and slowly turn to face him. “I’m okay, just tired… that’s all.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows. You were the first to go to sleep last night and the last to wake up this morning. After the conversation he had with you inside the RV, you got tired and went to sleep. 

“But you slept for 8 hours,” he mumbles as he reaches over to you, placing his palm against your forehead to check if the fever came back, but your temperature feels fine. 

You lean back, avoiding his touch. “I said I’m okay.” You grumble, taking him aback. 

Steve’s eyes flash with hurt. His brows sinking lower. The pang in his chest surprises him too, making his stomach dropa little. Not good. 

You make the mistake of looking at him, and you instantly tense up. Guilt settles inside of you. The hurt look in his eyes causes your tension to disappear. The urge to apologize grows inside you right away. 

His doe eyes gaze into yours, his lips curling into a frown. His shoulders slump, and he retreats a little. In this moment right here, he resembles a goddamn puppy.

Steve Harrington looks like a puppy. 

A sigh falls from your lips as you tilt your head to the side. 

“I-I’m sorry… I just… didn't sleep that well and now I have a headache.” It’s not exactly a lie. You’re just not telling him the reason for it. 

“Oh…” He frowns. “Do you need anything? Tylenol? Or do you want me to make you some breakfast? I can make oatmeal. We got cinnamon and brown sugar now.” He shrugs. 

You shake your head, smiling a little. “No, I’m fine… I promise. Maybe later.”

Steve nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. 

“The sun is up!” Eddie grins as he spots you next to Steve. 

Your head snaps towards him. You were too distracted to hear his footsteps… or hers.

“Morning, Sweets.” 

“Morning.”

Eddie notices the tone in your voice right away, the lack of a smile confusing him. He draws back in surprise, tilting his head at you.e’s about to open his mouth to ask if you’re okay, but Nancy beats him to it.

“Are you okay?” The brunette asks, concerned as she makes her way over to you. 

You can’t help but feel tense. A sour taste appears on your tongue, not even the bittersweet coffee cannot kill that taste. 

Steve notices the way you clench your jaw at the sound of her voice, the way your eyes flash with something he can’t read, something he’s never seen on you before. It surprises him. 

Your lip twitches, curling into a plastered smile. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You mumble, and before any of them can ask or say anything else, you turn on your heel and make your way back into the RV, catching them all off guard when you slam the door, leaving them all confused and stunned. 

They had never seen you in a bad mood. They had never seen you angry. You had never behaved that way before. They didn’t even know you had it in you. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows, his eyes widen. He slowly turns to face Steve after staring at the door for a while. The former jock looks just as confused but also… he looks like a kicked and tossed aside puppy. His lips are curled into a pout, his hazel eyes etched with sadness. 

Nancy turns around, nearly giving herself a whiplash by how fast she does it. 

“What happened?” She frowns. “Did you say something to her?”

Steve frowns at the accusing tone in her voice. Eddie notices it right away. 

“What? No! She just woke up, didn’t even say two sentences to me,” he mumbles as he looks down into his coffee cup. A bad feeling rises in his chest. A mixture of sadness and concern was flushing through him. 

Was it something he said…? Was it something he did? Was it about last night? It can’t be right? You were fine when he went after you to talk, when he explained that he doesn’t feel for Nancy anymore. You were okay, you even shared your KitKat with him before you went to bed. 

“Maybe she’s just… maybe she is just having a bad day,” Steve mumbles, hoping that it is that. “She’s allowed to have a bad day.” He grumbles, feeling protective. He’s had plenty of bad days, and you always gave him space, just like Nancy and Eddie had bad days, and you always respected that as well. 

“So give her the space that she needs.” He tells them, before he sits down on the camping chair behind him, glaring at the snow on the ground. 

You’re allowed to have a bad day. He repeats in his head and yet, he feels rejection coursing through him, not liking the coldness he received from you. 

Though it turns out to be more than just a bad day. 

If it were just that, you would keep to yourself, avoid everyone, and do your thing, but instead, you huff and puff at everything and everyone except for Eddie. Eddie seems to be the one spared by your cold shoulder, even when you grumble in response to his questions, you still talk to him. 

And Steve feels offended by it, when he notices how you still talk to Eddie while you avoid him and behave weirdly towards him, he can’t help but feel a weird ache in his chest. It confuses him and it makes him feel sad. 

He watches how you chat with Eddie when you wash dishes in the sink, and it leaves him with a bitter taste on his tongue because when he carried those dishes to you, you didn’t say a single word to him, not one word. 

And it’s so unlike you. You always talk to him, you talk to him more than you do with Eddie or Nancy, which makes it so obvious that you have some kind of personal issue with him, and it slowly makes him experience an ache he hasn’t felt in so long. He feels anxious, but also… he feels something he didn’t even know he was still capable of feeling. And he doesn’t know what to think of it, he doesn’t know how to let the realization sink in, he is too scared of it. 

And Eddie, despite being the one spared by your odd behaviour, notices everything. He sees the way you roll your eyes at everything that Nancy says, the way you clench your jaw and stare at her bitterly, resentment flashing in your eyes. 

And Steve… Every time you look at him, your eyes flicker with hurt but also with anger and disbelief. One moment, you look like a kicked puppy around him; the next moment, you snap at him every time he offers a hand and tries to help you with whatever task you are doing. 

In return, he always draws back in shock before his face flashes with sadness and rejection. 

If this wasn’t so serious, if he didn’t look so hurt and you so angry, Eddie would have found it amusing, but this is all so unlike you. Even he can’t believe what he is seeing. 

Nobody confronts you about it. Nancy goes out of your way after receiving one too many eyerolls from you. And Steve, he is scared to even ask, scared to touch the ticking time bomb. 

But Eddie grows a little frustrated with you when the late afternoon rolls around and you are still being a snappy brat, acting completely out of character. 

“I can do this myself. Thank you.” You snap at the brunette you are usually following around like a duckling follows its mother.

Steve huffs at you, unable to hide his frustration this time but before he can even respond to you, you grab the basket of dirty clothes that he just took from your hands and stomp away, making your way down to the lake to wash them. 

“Sunshine!” Steve calls after you as he throws his hands up, watching you walk down the hill. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling loudly before he curses under his breath. “What is her problem…” 

Eddie’s face flickers with sympathy. 

Who would have thought that your cold shoulder would be this… cold? 

He places his hand on his shoulder, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

“I don’t know what I did…” Steve murmurs, not hiding the vulnerability on his face. 

“You’re not the only one getting this treatment from her…” Eddie chuckles softly, shrugging. “I think she’s really just having a bad day.”

Steve shakes his head in return. 

“No. It’s gotta be something…” Steve mumbles as he furrows his eyebrows, trying to remember if it was something he said or did. “At first I thought it was because of Nance and I… she didn’t know that we used to be together, but we talked about it before she went to sleep and she was fine…”

Eddie winces at that, just like he did the night before when he saw how you reacted to that revelation. He knows you like Steve. He isn’t blind. It’s written all over your face every time you look at him, but Steve is clueless about it, painfully so. 

“Maybe it took some time to process that information…” Eddie shrugs.

“But why would she be mad at that…?” Steve frowns as he knits his eyebrows together strongly. 

Eddie almost wants to laugh. Yeah, that former playboy has got to be the most clueless guy in history. 

“Did you talk about something else with her…?” Eddie steers the topic away from his history with Nancy. 

Steve purses his lips as he looks down into the snow that is melting due to the warm sun. 

He shrugs as he brings his hand up to his hair again, running his fingers through it. 

“We just… I talked to her about Robin, about how lonely I felt after she died… before she came along.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah… I don’t know, maybe she’s just… missing her family.” 

Eddie nods. He slowly looks in the direction you have left. He now understands why you are acting this way. 

“Hey, listen, I’m gonna go talk to her and you get started on dinner, alright?” Eddie says, looking at his friend intently. “Bet she’s gonna be even worse if she doesn’t eat.” He chuckles, trying to make him smile. 

But Steve’s lip only twitches lightly. 

“Yeah… Okay.” Steve nods, hoping that a talk with Eddie might lift your mood – although he can’t help but feel a little hurt and sour if he does get through to you. 

Eddie pats his shoulder one more time before he walks away, following you to the lake. 

He squints his eyes as the sun shines brightly into his face. The warmth of it feels nice for a change, though. He hopes that it will get warmer from now on. The urge to throw his winter jacket off and away feels strong. 

Just like it does for you. 

You aren’t even wearing yours anymore. You ditched it next to the basket of dirty laundry. At least the pastel yellow scarf is still around your neck, along with a sweater that looks way too big on you. 

You are crouched before the lake, washing one of Steve’s t-shirts… angrily. 

Eddie clears his throat as he approaches you, making you freeze for a second before you continue. 

“Hey…” Eddie mumbles awkwardly as he stops beside you with his hands in his pockets. 

“Hey.” 

You don’t even look up at him. He can see that your jaw is clenched and that you are still huffing. 

Eddie can sense the death glare he is about to get from you, and a part of him feels nervous, even though he sees you as no threat at all. 

“Um… what’s going on?” He asks as he looks at the shirt you are washing in anger, the pink cleaning gloves shining brightly under the sun. 

“With what?” 

“You are acting angry.” Eddie retorts without missing a beat. 

“I’m not angry.” You lie. You are angry. You are hurt. And through the haze, you cannot see the impact it left on the three so far. 

"Yes, you are!” Eddie huffs as he crouches down beside you. “Did I– did we overstep with yesterday's game?” He asks, desperately wanting to know what had troubled you this much. 

“No, Eddie.” You grumble as you stop your task for a moment and turn to look at him. The concern in his eyes makes guilt rush through you. “I just woke up in a bad mood. Can’t I be in a bad mood every once in a while?” 

“I mean, yeah, you can,” he nods awkwardly. “It’s just weird to see… that’s all.” 

“Well, get the fuck used to it because that’s how human bodies work.” You roll your eyes before you look back into the cold water. 

Eddie clenches his jaw in annoyance. He feels a bit surprised by the attitude you continue to give him. 

“Okay, enough of this.” He finally grows frustrated. “What the fuck happened when you and Steve went to sleep last night? Did he do something he shouldn’t?”

You freeze. 

Growing flustered at the way he worded it, you can’t help but flush all over, which in return, leaves you feeling even angrier. 

You get up with the shirt in your hand and turn to face him, frowning. 

“No! He didn’t do anything! What does Steve have to do with anything?” You shrug at him. 

Eddie stands up as well, taking a step closer to you. 

“Because before going to bed you were completely fine, and today you are being a cunt!” 

Your jaw falls slack, your eyes flashing with disbelief as you frown angrier than you did all day. 

Eddie would have laughed at the expression on your face if this weren’t so serious. 

“A cunt!?” 

“Yeah! And I would like to know why!” He throws his hands up, growing frustrated with you. “I thought we were best friends, sweetheart! I thought we talk to each other when shit bothers you!” 

A flash of guilt rushes through you, and your angry expression fades for a second. Your shoulders slump as your cheeks heat up. 

The hurt is still there, burning stronger than before now. You look down into the grass that comes through the snow again. You take deep breaths and contemplate on how to open up, on how to say things without exposing too much, without exposing your feelings and the pain that you have felt since yesterday night. 

It all boiled up and you woke up in anger this morning. 

Steve and Nancy. Steve and Robin. 

It all reminded you of all your failed friendships and your failed relationship. It reminded you of all the moments you have spent playing the placeholder without knowing it, of all the one sided love you have had in the past, platonic and romantic. You thought it would be different this time. You felt that it would be different this time. 

But of course not, you were a fool once again. 

Even with him, Eddie. He called you a best friend when it isn’t the truth, maybe it is to you, but not to him. Nancy is his best friend, of course she is. They have known each other longer. You came along months, years after they had gotten this close. So, you can’t even be mad or hurt.

But it makes you feel bad. You know if a choice had to be made for whatever reason, it would never be you. Not to him, not to anyone. 

And it makes you feel worse to think of him. You thought that he could be the one, a best friend. You even ignored the part that wanted him as something more. You were happy to have him just like this. You were so lost in the delusion that you didn’t realize that you were nothing but a reminder of her, someone he could play pretend with. 

Why else would he have risked his life for you? 

He didn’t want to lose you because he would lose her a second time. 

Tears build up in your eyes as it all comes through you once more. You don’t want him to see, and you don’t want to cry in front of him, so you keep your eyes on the ground. 

“I just found out stuff that I think I should have known a while ago… I’ve been traveling with you for months, and I just now found out that Nancy was the girl that was with Steve…? That she was the girl who cheated on him?” You ask, swallowing the sour taste on your tongue. 

It all clicks in his head. 

“So… this is all because of jealousy?” 

You snap your head up, glaring at him. 

“Jealousy!?” You shriek, causing him to rub his ears as he winces in pain. 

“No need for that screech, that fucking hurt–”

You throw the wet t-shirt at him, not giving him the time to react before it slams wetly against his chest and his chin, making him stumble back in surprise. 

“What the–”

You turn on your heel, abandoning the laundry and him as you stomp away in anger, not giving him any time to react to your sudden outburst. 

Eddie frowns in disgust as he looks at the wet shirt. He scrunches his face up, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks up. 

“Where are you going!?” 

You only flip him off in return after throwing those pink gloves on the ground, leaving him in shock yet again. 

“Jesus Christ…” He mumbles, shaking his head. 

He wants to go after you, but he knows that he will only make it worse. So, as Steve had told him before, he gives you space. Though he can’t help but feel concerned as you walk further away from him. 

He looks up at the hill, preparing for the anger on Steve’s face when he comes back without you. 

-

You need space. You need a moment to yourself, a moment to breathe. You needed to escape. Ever since you were a kid, every time you had gotten into a conflict or felt hurt because of something, you stormed away, escaping into the sunflower field behind your house or any flower field you could find in reach. It always calmed you down, it always gave you comfort, to be surrounded by nature, to be by yourself, even if just for a moment. 

You found no flower field out here but you found a little clearing, a peaceful little place where you could find some alone time. But now that the anger you felt all day slowly began to fade, the guilt started slipping in for how you treated everyone – even if you are still hurt about absolutely everything. 

You are picking at the lilac hair tie, frowning at it. 

You will never be her. 

And you will never be as special to him as she was to him. 

You will never be anything more than a replacement. 

And you are pretty sure that even as that, you are still easily replaceable, no matter how much you remind him of her. 

Your eyes burn once again, and the feeling in your chest that had been suffocating you since last night becomes worse. 

You hate to admit that this hurts you more than any of your past friendship breakups. These people, these three random people that you would have never run into if it wasn’t for the end of the world, have stolen your heart and creeped their way into it so quickly, becoming so important to you that you would do anything for them. 

You wonder if they’d do the same… just for you and not because you remind them of anyone. 

“Sunshine.”

His soft voice doesn’t even startle you, but you still flinch. 

You can feel his eyes on you. 

“I’ve looked for you everywhere.” He states. 

You can hear the concern in his voice along with a hint of anger. 

You take a deep breath before you tilt your head up to look at him. He is standing a few feet away from you. Worry and confusion are written all over his face. He is frowning at you, holding your jacket in his hand that you abandoned when you escaped from Eddie after throwing the wet shirt at him – you will have to apologize… 

“Well, here I am.” You grumble, feeling bitter all over when you look into the hazel eyes you have come to adore so much. 

Steve clenches his jaw at the tone in your voice. He looks down at you, how you sit against the tree, snapping the hair tie against your wrist. Your face is still tense, still bothered. 

“Are you trying to get sick again?” He grumbles as he makes his way over to you, handing you the jacket. 

He halts before your feet, his boots knocking against yours. You look up at him through your lashes. You breathe in, and he expects nothing less than another huff from you. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at you, nodding his jaw at your jacket, urging you to take it. 

“I’m not cold–”

“Put the damn jacket on, Sunshine.” He demands, the frustration clear in his voice. 

You push yourself up, patting the back of your legs to remove any dirt you might have sat on. Bitterness curses through your veins to feel him so close, to feel his eyes on you, to feel his anger. 

“I think I can take care of myself, Steve.” You grumble in response as you grab the jacket from his hand and make your way past him. 

Steve feels a pang in his chest. He hoped that you had calmed down, that you would talk to him now about whatever is bothering you, but you are clearly still not in the mood. 

“Can you? Because you dropped everything and stomped away like a bratty child.” He mumbles in irritation. 

You are not telling anyone what’s your problem and instead of talking about it, you threw a wet shirt at Eddie – which honestly made Steve feel a little satisfied, knowing that you got mad at him too. 

You turn around to face him, frowning at his question. A mixture of emotions ripples through you, anger and hurt. That one word goes through your head like a broken record since last night, and it just got louder. Immature, immature, immature. That’s what he thinks of you. That’s what everyone thinks of you. And it bothers you, it hurts you but it especially hurts to know that this is how he feels about you. 

You want to laugh for letting yourself fall for him, for thinking that he could see you as something other than this. 

“Well, I don’t need anyone checking on me or looking after me,” you snap back as you point at your chest. “I wanted space, I wanted a fucking moment to myself but none of you respect me! I’m not a goddamn puppy and I’m not a child! I can handle my own – in case you don’t remember, I was on my own for a whole year!” 

Steve draws back at your outburst. He lowers his head as guilt rushes through him. Though the guilt isn’t enough to mend the frustration in him. 

He clenches his jaw, looking at you intensely as he places his hands on his hips. 

“Don’t do that, Sunshine. We respect you, you know that.” He says through gritted teeth as your anger seems to infect him as well. “But clearly you don’t respect us.” 

Your eyes widen, and your lips part. 

“Excuse me?” You tilt your head to the side, challenging him. 

He takes a step closer to you, not realizing just how much of your personal space he is invading and how his eyes flicker to your parted lips. 

“You heard me.” He mumbles as he now towers over you. “If you respected us, you would have told us– you would have told me what’s bothering you. I thought we were friends, I thought you and I… could talk about anything to each other.” 

‘You and I’. You hate the way your heart flutters at that, like it means anything to him, like it’s something. 

He takes a step closer to you, his hands itching to reach out to you, to grab your hands, to hold them like he did before. Instead, he clenches his fists to hold himself back. 

You gulp, swallowing the lump in your throat. You hesitate as you look into his eyes. The truth lies on the tip of your tongue, but you are too afraid to speak it out loud, to tell him how much it hurt you to find out about him and Nancy, about Robin. 

“Nothing is bothering me, I’m just having a bad day.” You lie through gritted teeth. 

He can see right through you. Your left eye twitches when you lie. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Steve warns you, glaring into your eyes. “We both know that’s bullshit.” 

“It’s not.” You clench your jaw, gripping your jacket tighter. 

“Tell me the truth.” Steve demands, growing restless and impatient. 

It’s not only his anger that shines through his eyes, it’s the desperation. And if you weren’t so blinded by your insecurities, you would see how much it kills him to receive this cold shoulder from you, you would see just how much he cares, that this is why he wants to know. Because he wants to fix it, because he wants to be there for you, to make it better. 

“Or what?” You glare at him, anger and sadness mixing, resulting in an explosion. “You’re gonna call me an immature little girl again? Tell me that my family is dead?” You ask as tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t help but hate yourself for that, for wanting to cry when you want to look brave. 

“Don’t do this now…” He begs as his eyes fill with guilt. 

But you are not done. 

“Tell me that I remind you of your best friend? That this was the only reason why you even gave me a chance…? Because you saw her in me? … And now I’m a placeholder to you and a joke to everyone else?” 

Steve feels like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped over his head. His eyes widen, and he draws back, staring at you, bewildered. His heart drops to his stomach, his chest aching when he takes in the tears in your eyes and the hurt written across your face now that the anger was finally put into words. 

The tension and the anger in him melting right off. His shoulders slump, and his eyes soften and fill with sadness. The guilt in him is worsening now. This is what you think? This is what you feel?

You were never that. There was not a single moment where he thought that about you, where he saw you as a replacement, where he thought of you as a placeholder to Robin. He didn’t realize how wrongly his words came across and the impact they left on you. 

He knows of your past, of the failed friendships, of the shitty first boyfriend you had. How they all made you feel. How they only needed you when no one else was around, how you were the last choice without realizing it, how you kept playing the placeholder for everyone you saw as a close friend or even a best friend. He was so angry at all of them when you opened up to him, and now he led you to believe that he felt just the same as they did about you. 

Steve watches the way a tear slips down your cheek, and he wants nothing more than to wipe it away and pull you into his arms, apologize for how much he hurt you with that wrong impression he left on you. 

“Sunshine…” Steve whispers as his hazel eyes soften at the sight of your sadness. 

Though you don’t give him the chance to explain himself. You don’t need him to lie to make you feel better, and you need no sympathy. You wipe your tears in anger and turn on your heel, walking away… again. 

You can hear the frustrated sigh that falls from his lips as he says your name softly. 

“Wait… please don’t do this,” he murmurs behind you as his footsteps echo. He follows you, contemplating reaching out to you, to grab your hand and pull you back to him, to make you listen, to put it through that thick head of yours that you are not a placeholder, that you could never be one, never. 

“It’s okay, Steve. I get it now.” You mumble, your voice still filled with bitterness. 

Frustration builds up in him again. You won’t listen, not so easily. 

Steve rushes up to you, grasping your upper arm gently, he stops you and turns you back around, forcing you to face him again. 

Your glassy eyes meet his, and you don’t hesitate to open your mouth again, but he beats you to it. 

“Listen to me, Sunshine.” 

But you don’t. You don’t listen to him. Your ears pick up a different sound, one that you can’t make out so well. You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. For a moment, all your troubled emotions flee away. 

“You were never–” Steve pauses when he takes in the change of your expression, when he notices the concentration in your eyes. 

“What is it…?” He frowns in concern as he begins to look around you both, realizing that he let his guard down, that he didn’t bother to look around and make sure that nothing was creeping up on the two of you. 

“Do you hear that?” You whisper as you take in the struggling sound of someone, something. 

Steve instantly reaches for the gun in his belt, but you stop him. You place your hand on his and shake your head at him. 

“No… just listen…” You whisper as you blink your tears away. 

He can’t look away from that, from the tears in your eyes and the pain he had caused without meaning to. 

You furrow your brows deeper as you look around. 

It sounds like a whine, a pained whimper coming from somewhere close. You turn towards it, hesitating for just a second before you move. 

Steve can’t even react as you turn around and escape his touch.  You start running, making your way towards those sounds, ready to jump straight into danger. 

“Sunshine!” He whispers, not wasting a second to follow you as you further make your way into the forest. “You don’t know what’s out there, you can’t just–”

But you don’t listen. Of course you don’t. Instead, you pick up the pace, following the sound without hesitation. Moving past the trees and the bushes, making your way down the small hill that leads you to a small waterfall and a big stream that is moving fast. 

You halt in your tracks as you look around, and when you find the source of the sound, your eyes widen. 

Right there by the shore, there is a fallen tree lying in the water, broken branches sticking into every direction. You see the tiny paws holding onto it, the fur wet from the river. The tiny wolf cub is holding on for dear life, but the water is moving fast, too fast for a pup to save itself from it. 

You don’t waste any time jumping into action, ignoring Steve’s calls as you make your way down to the river. You throw your jacket on the ground and lean down to take off your boots, undoing your laces quickly. You never take your eyes off the cub, scared that the stream will take it. 

Steve halts in his tracks behind you after he catches up. He freezes when you throw your scarf and your sweatshirt off before your hands find their way to your belt, watching how you undress yourself before the water. 

“I– what…” He mumbles in confusion, not even noticing the cub in the water. “What the hell are you doing, Sunshine!?” 

“I’m not gonna let the cub die!” You cry out as you point at it. 

“I–” Steve’s words get caught in his throat when he notices the struggling wolf pup. His heart breaks at the sight before him, and he instantly jumps forward as well, ready to get into that icy water. 

The clinking of your belt brings his attention back to you. He stares in disbelief as you take your pants off, stripping down to your underwear. 

“Whoa, wait!” He holds his hands up, ignoring the way his cheeks flush at your bare skin, at the lace covering your skin. “The water is cold! You are still coming down from your cold – sunshine!” 

You stumble away before he can grab your arm and stop you. You dip your feet into the water, and you can’t help but wince at the coldness of it. Shivers rise up on your skin instantly, and you shudder strongly. You know this will hurt after. You know this might make you sick again, but you can’t bring yourself to think and worry about it now. 

Steve’s stomach drops as he watches you get in the water. He brings his hands up to his hair, clutching it anxiously as he clenches his jaw. 

You will be the death of him. 

He makes his way down to the shore, ready to jump in after you in case something happens. 

“I can’t believe you…” He mutters under his breath as he watches you anxiously. 

“Hey,” you whisper to the cub with a shivering voice as you take another step into the water, grateful for the tree for slowing down the stream on this spot. You just hope that it won’t get too deep, not wanting to get into the coldness with your whole body. 

The cub whimpers loudly which leads you to move faster, desperately wanting to save it. 

“I’m coming,” you whisper as you take another step, now standing knee deep inside of it. Your whole body is trembling by now. 

The water, this spot would’ve been a nice little place if it wasn’t so goddamn cold. 

Steve’s concerned face winces when he sees just how much you are shivering already. He wants to scold you, to grab you and yell at you for being so stupid. 

“Be careful.” 

Your hands touch the water when the next step nearly envelopes you fully. A gasp falls from your lips when the water touches your stomach. You need to move fast, and you need to get out of here quickly. The cub is in reach now, and you don’t waste any more time, taking a tiny step closer, you reach out to it, wrapping your hands around it, you pull it towards you, cupping the tiny animal against your chest. 

Steve watches intently as he takes his jacket off. A sigh of relief leaves his lips when you save the cub and start making your way out. 

The ends of your hair are wet, water dripping down your bare back. Your skin is covered in goosebumps. You are freezing. 

“I got you,” you whisper as you look down at it. Its paws cling to your bra straps, claws digging into your skin a little as it shivers and whimpers against you. “I got you… baby.” 

Steve’s stressed figure stands by the shore, his face is etched with nothing but desperation. The second you are in reach, he grabs your waist and pulls you outside, unable to hide the angry frown on his face as he turns you around, forcing you to face him again. 

Not even a minute in the water and your lips are purple and trembling. Your skin is ice cold. 

“You are crazy, Sunshine.” He grumbles as he wraps his jacket around your shivering body. And then… he wraps his arms around your body, enveloping you with his arms completely, pulling you into his warm embrace. He places his chin on the top of your head, holding you tightly as he rubs your back, trying to warm you up. “Absolutely crazy.” He mumbles and closes his eyes. 

You bury your face in his chest, melting into his touch with ease. You welcome his warmth and press yourself against him. The cub is between yours and his chest now, enveloped by warmth. 

“Don’t ever do that again, you hear me?” He says as he holds you tighter. 

You risked your life. You risked your life for an animal, knowing what it could lead to again. You are so good, too good for this world. And it fills him with fear because you jump into danger without thinking, not caring about yourself. 

And despite the concern it leaves him with, his heart flutters and warms at your action. You are so selfless and loving. 

You nod against him as your teeth clatter. You close your eyes and fall into him, embracing the warmth of his body. 

“I got you,” Steve whispers into your hair as he tightens his hold on you. “I got you, Sunshine.”

You breathe heavily against him, taking deep breaths. You search for his warmth, pressing yourself tighter against him and in return he pulls you even closer. 

“God… you’re so cold.” He whispers in concern as he continues to rub your arms and your back. 

The pup between you is shivering just as much, but it’s whines get quieter as it curls into your chest. 

“Can’t believe you did this.” Steve mumbles as he cups the back of your head. 

“Couldn’t let this baby drown,” you whisper against him as you press your head against the spot over his heart, unknowingly making it flutter. 

You don’t know how much time passes as you stand there in his embrace, but you find yourself wishing that you could stay like this forever. It feels nice to be in his arms, it feels safe and warm. Despite what happened before, you don’t want this moment to end. 

You know that this is nothing to him, that this is just a way of warming you up just like that night you spent in the car before you got sick. But your heart ignores your mind. 

But Steve, he doesn’t want to let you go. It feels nice, it feels right to hold you. His heart feels… alive. His skin is burning from where you’re touching him. Your scent, your touch, is driving him crazy. Your cold shoulder was driving him insane all day, making him sour yet sad. And now he suddenly feels calm. With you in his arms, he feels content, like there is nothing else in this world that he needs. Absolutely nothing. 

It’s at this moment that he realizes that he is screwed. 

His heart skips a beat when you lay your hand over it. 

Yeah, totally screwed. 

Your words from before echo in his head, filling him with dread and sadness, knowing how you felt all day, knowing why you behaved so coldly. 

Steve opens his eyes and he looks down at you, bringing his hands to your face, he cups your cheeks as he whispers your name, “can you look at me for a second?”

You hesitate for a moment, standing still for a few seconds before you look up at him.

He nearly feels his knees buckle from the vulnerability in your eyes. 

He briefly looks at the pup in your arms, watching the way it buries itself against you, feeling safe in your embrace. His heart warms at the sight. 

He keeps holding your cheeks, his eyes returning to gaze into yours. He takes a deep breath as he looks at you intensely. 

“Listen to me,” he whispers, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You were never ever a placeholder, you were never a replacement for Robin or anyone else for that matter.”

Your eyebrows furrow as your lips pucker, “but…”

Steve shakes his head at you, “I never meant it like that when I said that you remind me of her. I never saw her in you. You are not some sort of ghost of Robin, Honey.” He promises, telling you nothing but the truth. “Your rambling reminded me of hers, that’s why it was so hard for me to be around you at first. Robin would talk my ear off about the most random things, you did that too and I just thought ‘god… these two together would be the death of me’ cause I know that she would have loved you.”

“Oh…” 

Steve can still see the insecurity flashing in your eyes, the way you struggle to believe him. And he so badly wants you to believe him, to trust him. 

These days, he struggles to be vulnerable, to show feelings, to let them in… but if that’s what he’s gotta do in order for you to believe him, then he will let his guard down for a moment. 

“But in no way were you ever a placeholder. I promise that I have never thought that of you. You are not Robin, and I don’t want you to be her. I like you, I like you for who you are. I like you for how you constantly hit me with the most random facts, for how you stay so hopeful and cheerful despite everything, for how kind you are despite this world, for jumping straight into ice cold water to save this cub.” His cheeks are flushed, and his stomach is filled with nerves. “And you’re not an immature little girl, Sunshine. You are probably the smartest, the strongest of us all. I admire you and for how this world hasn’t tainted you in the slightest.” He admits, feeling his heart race in his chest, and he also fuels it when he brings his hand higher up your face to brush away the stray hair that covers your eye. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your cheeks burn beneath his touch. You don’t even feel the cold anymore, not even the sadness nor the anger from before.

Your heart races strongly in your chest, filling with hope yet again. The rejection, the disappointment that flushed through you before, just vanishes with ease. The look in his eyes makes you feel engulfed in nothing but warmth. The tension in your whole body disappears. 

Were you wrong after all? 

Did you misunderstand everything he said? 

Did the past really leave such an impact on you? 

“Y-You… You admire me?” Out of all the questions you could ask, this is the only one you can come up with. 

Steve’s lip twitches, curling into a small smile. His eyes soften as he continues to look into your eyes. He found his favorite color. 

“Yeah, we all do.” Steve nods. “In case you haven’t noticed.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, and you shake your head slightly. His hand never leaves your face. 

“Oh…” 

Steve’s heart aches a little at your question, at the vulnerability in your eyes, at the confusion because you don’t understand what could make you so admirable. 

You want to ask why, but you don’t, not knowing if you can keep the tears away right now. 

“I’m sorry for the way I worded things last night, for making you feel that way. I never meant to hurt you, and I never wanted you to feel like you’re some kind of replacement for my best friend. You are not and you never will be. She was special to me. You are too,” he admits, biting back his embarrassment as he gives you a glimpse of how he feels about you. 

Your eyes widen at his confession, and your heart jumps in joy.

You know… You know that this could mean something else again, that it might not be what you want it to be. That he means it platonically. She was special, but she was a best friend, there was only platonic love, nothing more, it could be like that with you. 

And yet, you want it to be more, you hope it to be more. 

Your lips part as you stare at him, as you gaze into the eyes you are falling for with no way of stopping it. Your eyes flicker to his lips, making his breath hitch in his throat, making his heart flutter and his cheeks flush. 

His eyes move from your own eyes to your lips, to the scar on your shoulder, and the softness of your neck. His hands itch to touch you more. 

The air between you changes, tension building, but not like before. This is different, this makes you both feel hot but not from anger, no, from something else. 

You are so beautiful, painfully so. He could look at you forever, and he’d only want to look at you more. 

Steve leans closer without realizing. Your breath hits his lips, and suddenly he has to fight the urge to close the gap between you. 

You blink as you gaze into his eyes. You stop breathing, the beating of your heart is so strong, you fear that he can feel it against his own chest. 

The energy between you is burning, the yearning so deep, so strong. It would only take for you to close the gap between you to feel his lips on your own. 

But you are afraid to make the first move, and he doesn’t make it either. 

Steve wonders what could have been if he had met you sooner. If somehow he would have found his way to New York and run into you in one of your favorite coffee shops or bakeries. He would have noticed you right away, he would have wasted no time to make a move on you, to ask you out. 

But he is not that guy anymore. He is not who he used to be. 

“We should get back to the others.” He blurts out. “We gotta get you warmed up better.”

Disappointment floods through you, but you nod, holding back your sigh. “Yeah…” You murmur and look down at the cub who got comfortable in your embrace. “Hold it for me?” 

“Yeah… Yeah of course.” Steve mumbles, clearing his throat as he avoids your eyes. He takes the cub from your hands, holding it gently as he brings it towards his chest. “Hey buddy.” He smiles at the furry baby, cupping the small head. 

You smile as you watch him. Your heart melts at the sight of the cub curling against him. 

You force your gaze away from him and turn to your clothes. You take his jacket off as you lean down to pick up your pants off the ground. You start to get dressed, unaware of the way his eyes find their way back to you. 

Steve can’t look away from the lace covering your skin or the way your hair falls down your back. it's gotten so much longer in the past few months. Your skin looks so soft, his hands itching to touch it so badly. He knows it would feel so good, so right to hold you, to feel you against him, to feel your bare skin against his. 

The whine coming from the cub in his arms pulls him out of his thoughts. He looks down, finding its dark eyes looking up at him. His cheeks flushed red when it dawns on him what he had just daydreamed about. 

He clears his throat, cursing at himself inwardly. 

“Okay…” You mumble as you turn back around, unfolding your scarf, you hold it against your chest. “Come here, I’ll wrap him… or her up.” 

Steve hums, still looking down, not wanting to expose his blushing cheeks. He steps towards you and hands you the cub, helping you wrap the scarf around it. 

“Hey, you’re fine, baby.” You giggle when it wiggles in your hands. 

Steve’s heart flutters at that sound. He looks at you, his lips curling as he watches the way you pull the cub against your chest, cradling it the way you would a baby. Oh boy. Something else inside of him stirs. 

“Come on…” You whisper to him. “Grab the jackets, please?” 

“Why didn’t you put on your jacket?” He frowns, only now realizing that you’re only in your sweater. He huffs as he picks up both jackets, he puts yours under his left arm and throws his own around you. 

“What—“

“I’m not cold right now.” And he likes the way it looks on you. He likes that your scent will stay on his jacket. 

“Now let’s go,” he mumbles as he places his hand on your back. “We need to get you both to the fire.”

“Yeah…” You nod as you start walking. “Do you think the mother is around?” 

Steve shrugs, looking around the forest surrounding the river. 

“If she was, she would have been here by now… maybe something happened, maybe she’s dead.” 

You frown at that, looking down sadly, “I hope not.”

“Yeah… c’mon.” He whispers, wrapping his arm around your shoulder — to give you warmth of course, for no other reason. His stomach flutters when you lean into him, no longer tense with anger or bitterness. 

You walk in silence. The tension between you is gone and your anger has faded away, but you feel guilty for how you treated him.

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?” He looks down at you, noticing the troubled expression. 

“I’m sorry for how I treated you…” You apologize without hesitating. 

His heart warms at your apology, at the soft look in your eyes. 

“It’s okay, Honey.”

The pet name makes you blush strongly. You like that he calls you that.  

“I was mean…”

“I didn’t even know you had it in you,” Steve chuckles, patting your shoulder. “I can’t believe you threw a wet shirt at Eddie.” 

You wince at that, but Steve’s eyes glint with amusement, and he seems to be satisfied with your action. 

“You like that I did that, don’t you?” 

He nods, smirking, “yeah, actually.” 

You huff, but you can’t hold back your chuckle. 

The rest of the way back to the RV is spent in comfortable silence. You pass by the lake to find the basket of clothes gone. Nancy must have finished your task. 

The thought of her leaves you feeling guilty too. You’ve been horrible to her as well. And yet… a part of you still feels bitter to think of her, to know now that it was she who hurt Steve so much. 

You avert your eyes from her when you make it back. Her concerned expression is directed at you. 

“You’ve been away for so long!” Nancy says as she gets up from her camping chair. “Is everything okay?” 

Eddie turns around to face you, looking away from the pot he is stirring soup in. 

Steve nods at her, “yeah, we’re okay.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows when he notices the fur sticking out from behind the scarf you’re holding. 

“What… What do you have there!?” He asks, rushing towards you. His eyes widen when he sees the cub. “Holy shit! Is that a… a wolf!?” 

“What!?” Nancy gasps behind him. 

“A wolf pup, yeah.” You nod as you caress its little head. 

Steve’s eyes flicker back and forth between your face and the animal. 

“She jumped into the water to save it…” Steve explains. 

Eddie’s jaw drops, and he looks between you and the pup, impressed. 

Nancy’s eyes widen, and she makes his way over to you, concern is written all over her face. 

“Oh my god, are you crazy?” She exclaims, eying your body. She only now notices Steve’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders. “You just got better!” 

“I’m fine, Nancy…” You murmur softly. “Steve… gave me his jacket.” 

“But the water is freezing! You must still be cold!” 

The worry in her voice makes you feel even worse, making the guilt much more intense. 

“Come on, let’s sit by the fire!” She says as she wraps her arm around you, glancing at the pup who is looking around curiously. “Eddie cooked soup, I’ll get you a bowl in a sec.”

Eddie and Steve watch as Nancy takes care of you, wrapping a blanket around you before she fetches you a bowl of soup. You don’t look up at her once, keeping your head low and your eyes trained on the ground or at the pup in your arms. 

“So… is she still throwing shirts around or…?” Eddie mutters, narrowing his eyes at Steve. 

“No, we talked it out…”

“Oh?” Eddie raises his eyebrow, turning to face him, noticing the sadness in his eyes. 

“Yeah…” Steve whispers, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ll tell you more later but… she misunderstood some things I said. She was hurt.” 

“Oh…” Eddie whispers, looking back at you. You certainly look more relaxed than you did before; your expression is soft, and there is a soft smile on your face as you pet the pup. “Shit…”

“Yeah…” Steve whispers, looking back at you as well. “I think she’s okay now…”

You cradle the pup against your chest and lean back, wrapping the blanket tighter around you both. 

Both men watch you, smiles appearing on their faces. Eddie cannot help but blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Cute.”

Steve turns back to Eddie, his smile fading a bit. A weird pang spreading across his chest. 

Eddie smirks, chuckling at the expression on his friend’s face.

“Don’t worry, she’s all yours.” Eddie grins, bumping his shoulder with his own. “Look at the way she is holding that pup. Bet you’re thinking about putting some babies into her—“

“Dude!” Steve frowns, slapping his shoulder.

The metalhead winces in pain, holding his shoulder, “What’s it with you lovebirds and hitting me today!?” He yells in a whisper, frowning. 

“You deserved that!” Steve rolls his eyes as he makes his way to the RV. 

Though Steve didn’t question before why you hit Eddie in the first place, what he said to you for you to even do that. 

Did he tease you too? 

Did he make some sexual comments? 

Did he comment on your lack of experience?

Or did he tease you about him the way Eddie always teases him about you? 

“Are we keeping the pup?” Eddie calls out before Steve makes his way inside. “Guys?” 

-

Nancy feels your cold shoulder the most. While you talk to Steve and Eddie again, you still don’t even talk to her, only when you have to. 

It’s making the pit grow in her stomach. She wonders what she said or did wrong for you to feel such sudden resentment towards her. 

It’s been killing her all day, but even worse now that she witnessed you acting normal with the guys again. 

You have become a close friend in these past few months, if not her best friend. She never had someone like that again, not after Barb.

She felt hope when she met Robin, hoping to find a best friend in her, but it turned into something more. It was so very different with her. She fell in love with her, slowly but very deeply. The love suffocated her because, for the longest time, she believed it was one-sided, that the other girl could never feel that way about her. 

It turned out that she was wrong about it and that she had wasted too much time worrying. 

She wishes she had talked to her sooner, wishing she could have had more time with her. 

She won’t make these mistakes again, she won’t wait for the last moments. 

So when dinner is over and the night rolls around, she asks Steve to give her a moment with you, so she can talk to you. She didn’t even question him, knowing that you’ve talked to him about whatever troubled you all day. 

He agrees, not even hesitating to. He grabs all the dishes and forces Eddie to clean up with him in the RV, leaving her alone with you. 

It’s quiet between you, only the crackle of the fire surrounds you both. The pup is sleeping in your lap, engulfed by your warmth and your scarf, along with the blanket she wrapped around you before. 

Nancy takes a seat beside you, breathing in nervously. 

“Hey…” 

You stop caressing the pup, turning to face her slowly, you give her a tight lipped smile, “hey…” 

“Why are you so mad at me…?” Nancy asks, throwing it out. 

You tense at her question, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her. 

“I’m not.”

The frustration that’s been building up all day boils over, and she huffs at you. 

“Bullshit!” 

A frown appears on your face. You tense up further. You know all about how that ex-girlfriend of his called him that, hurt him with that. You could have never guessed it was her. 

“Is that the only word you know?” You snap, unable to hide your anger. 

Nancy looks taken aback, and it’s more than evident. Her lips part, and her eyes flash with confusion.

“I— what…? I-I use it a lot but… what’s your problem?” 

“My problem, Nancy? I’ve been traveling with you guys for months, months! And none of you bothered to tell me that you and Steve used to date. That you were the girl who cheated on him and dumped him!” 

The shock is written all over her face, along with the shame. She knits her eyebrows together, slowly shaking her head.

“I-I… that was so long ago, and it was meaningless—“

“How can you say that about him?” You ask in disbelief, feeling the anger burning hotly once again. 

The realization sinks in quickly. It never took her long to put two and two together. 

“I… Am I getting the signals wrong, or does it sound like you like Steve…?” She asks, careful to be quiet so Steve doesn’t hear in case he is listening. 

Your cheeks heat up, and you instantly avoid her eyes, giving yourself away. 

“I don’t… I respect him, but it sounds like you don’t! I bet… I bet he didn’t deserve what you did to him and yet…”

She cuts you off, shaking her head at you. 

“What happened between Steve and me in the past does not resemble who we are now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you of our history, but we both moved on from it a long time ago. It doesn’t matter in this present time anymore. I… We both didn’t think of telling you because it truly doesn’t matter anymore.” She says, looking at you intensely.

Her words fill you with relief. He already told you that he felt nothing for her anymore, but you didn’t know where her feelings stood, even with her confession about Robin. 

“But why did you cheat on him…?” You ask, disappointed. “Why did you do that to him?”

She sighs, and her shoulders slump. She knows how awful it was, how wrong it was to do what she did. 

“I… there is no excuse for what I did. We were on a rough patch together, and I… I found comfort in someone else. I fell for someone else…” 

Jonathan. She told you about him before, you just never knew the start of their history. 

“That’s so wrong Nancy!” You frown. 

You know exactly what Steve felt like when she did that to him. 

“I know it was!” Nancy throws her hands up. The sudden tears in her eyes take you aback. 

“I know it fucking is! That’s why I was so afraid of telling Robin how I felt! Breaking up with Jonathan to immediately jump to someone else after I did the exact thing with Steve? I know about my reputation! And look at me now…” She whispers painfully as tears cascade down her cheeks. “I never told Robin that I loved her because I wanted to be sure, because I wanted to take time, because I didn’t want to move too fast the way I did with them… only for them both to be the wrong ones for me… I wanted to do right by her, and now it’s too late. And that is my biggest regret… more than anything else.” 

All your anger gets replaced by sadness, by guilt, and pity. You can’t and you don’t want to imagine what she must feel like after losing someone like her. 

Your own eyes well up with tears, and the urge to hug her, to hold her, and tell her that you’re sorry grows strong. 

With the cub on your lap, you move closer to her, careful not to drop it. You pull her into your arms, pulling her into your embrace. Nancy reciprocates the hug right away, wrapping her arms around you tightly as she continues to cry. 

You are a little surprised that she accepted the hug so quickly. She always came across as a little cold, someone who doesn’t seem fond of affection. But now you can’t help but wonder if you got her all wrong. And you also can’t help but wonder if this is the first time someone held her after Robin. 

You stay like this for a while, giving her the chance to say more but even after that confession, you know she isn’t quite ready yet, to talk more about her. 

“I’m so sorry, Nancy… I’m sorry about everything. I wish you could have told her, I wish you still had her.” You whisper, feeling the guilt consume you now. You close your eyes, holding her tighter as she melts against you. “I-I should have talked to you… I shouldn’t have just–”

“It’s fine,” she whispers, cutting you off. “You’re protective of Steve, so I get why you were so mad at me.” 

“I shouldn’t have been… I just… I wish I had known about you and Steve before I got those stupid feelings for him.” You blurt out without meaning to. 

Nancy draws back instantly, her blue eyes widen, and her jaw drops at your accidental confession. 

“Wait…” She whispers, glancing over at the RV to make sure that it’s still just you and her. “Feelings…? Oh… Oh my god! You like Steve–”

You jump forward and cup your hand over her mouth, shushing her as you grow flustered. 

You feel a sliver of regret for letting your mouth run, but another part of you feels relief, for letting them out, for having someone to talk about them now. 

Your cheeks are burning, and your ears are too. Your heart starts pounding against your ribcage. 

“Yes, I do…” You admit, blushing. “But… He doesn’t like girls like me…” Immature girls. He likes women. That’s what Nancy is. And even if he doesn’t feel anything for her anymore, he once did. 

The moment that happened between you two earlier. The hope that lives inside of you doesn’t matter here. You are always hopeful about everything. It doesn’t mean that you will get what you want. You rarely do. You just can’t bring yourself to stop hoping, no matter how many times you fall face first. 

“He likes girls like you…”

Nancy’s eyes soften at the vulnerability flashing across your features, at the way your shoulders slump in sadness, fearing that you have no chance with him. 

But now she gets it even more, why you behaved the way you did. You were jealous and insecure, comparing yourself with her, leading you to let that monster out. 

She can’t help but chuckle as she shakes her head at you. “No, he doesn’t.”

You roll your eyes at her. 

She says your name softly as she reaches for your hands in your lap. 

“He liked me in high school–”

“And after–”

“No, he didn’t.” Nancy shakes her head. “Trust me, he didn’t. We talked about it years ago, and we moved on from that as soon as we did. Now I can’t even imagine that we used to be together. It feels wrong to even think of that, and he feels the same. He truly feels the same.” She tries to put it through that thick head of yours. She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth again. “And that is gonna sound gross considering we used to date, but… You know what Steve feels like to me?” 

You raise your eyebrows at her, tilting your head to the side. 

She scrunches up her nose and her lips curl downwards in disgust, “he feels like a brother to me now, like an annoying older brother.”

“Oh…” You murmur, your facial expression matching her own. Pure Disgust. And though you can’t help but giggle. 

“I know it’s disgusting,” Nancy chuckles as her eyes light up at the crinkle in your eyes. “But that’s how I feel. It’s how he feels too.” She shrugs, holding your hands tighter. 

And it does calm you a little, but only a little. 

“That… doesn’t mean that he likes me back, though. In fact… I don’t think that I stand a chance.”

“What makes you say that?” She frowns, watching how you look down again. “What if you do have a chance…?”

You roll your eyes again, keeping your eyes trained on the pup. “He once called me insufferable… and I’m also inexperienced. There is nothing that someone like him could want in me.” 

“You think your inexperience makes you less attractive, less interesting or something?” Nancy mumbles in confusion, knitting her eyebrows at you. 

You shrug. 

“That’s… No.” She shakes her head, scoffing. “You are worrying too much about it… Besides, you should have seen the look on his face when you told us that you’re a virgin.”

Her words pique your interest. You haven’t really paid attention to him when you admitted that, you were too flustered to catch his reaction. 

You slowly look up at her, your eyes meeting hers again. 

“What look…?”

Nancy’s lip curls into a smirk, her eyes flashing with something you can’t read. 

“Well… first it was disbelief, like he couldn’t understand how someone like you hasn’t fucked ever before.”

You blush deeply.

“Someone like me?” You ask with a small voice. 

Nancy huffs at you, “In case nobody told you, you are hot – like super hot and you are gorgeous too. If you weren’t my best friend, I’d be all up on you.”

“Nancy!” You gasp, blushing even deeper at her words. 

She laughs loudly at the flustered look on your face. 

“It’s nothing but the truth!” 

You are giggling now, looking down with your burning cheeks. You pull the cub closer to you again, snuggling it against your chest. 

Nancy gives you a moment, though her eyes never leave your face and the smug smile doesn’t either. 

“Second, he looked like he was ready to change that for you… You know, that inexperienced part.” 

Nancy laughs loudly when your eyes widen and you try to hide behind your face, growing flustered more than you ever did before. 

“N-No he didn’t!” You squeal. Though you can’t deny the fact that her words stir something inside of you, that they don’t fill you with excitement and hope. 

Because even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you would love it if Steve was the one to be your first… and perhaps your last. 

“Oh but he did, sweetie,” Nancy giggles, unable to hide her grin, unable to stop teasing you after this. 

You stay outside, sitting beneath the stars and next to the fire with the wolf pup in your lap, unable to stop blushing but also giggling at Nancy’s teasing. For a moment, everything feels so normal, like you are hanging out with your best friend, talking and gushing over your crush. 

For a moment, you forget everything that happened today. 

For a moment, you let go again. 

For a moment everything feels… okay. 

Not knowing that tomorrow would change everything. 

If only you knew that your hands would be dripping with blood. 

☀︎

taglist: @prettyboyeddiemunson @pretentious-blonde @thecreelhouse @tvserie-s-world @thesickestqrmydcll @crispystarfishhottub @sophal22 @definitionwanderlust @talkativecarnation @mysticalwoolenfroglegs @ariesandwolves @mortqlprojections @sattlersquarry @sherrylyn0628 @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @micheledawn1975 @keepingitlokiii @littleromanoff2005 @sunshine-mrk @xxladymjxx

[athena-xox]

Ever after high books + links

Link one (most books)

Link two (other books)

EDIT: SINCE THIS IS GETTING ATTENTION AGAIN I IMPLORE EVERYONE TO CHECK MY PINNED POST SINCE THERE IS SO MUCH MORE GOOD RESOURCES!!! (This includes webisode timelines, doll diaries, EAH dictionary, confirmed birthdays and sm more)

The Main Trilogy (& Other Shannon Hale Books)

The Storybook of Legends by Shannon Hale

The Unfairest of Them All by Shannon Hale

A Wonderlandiful World by Shannon Hale

Once Upon a Time by Shannon Hale

The Legend of Shadow High by Shannon Hale

Ever After High School Series

Next Top Villain by Suzanne Selfors

Kiss and Spell by Suzanne Selfors

A Semi Charming Kinda Life by Suzanne Selfors

Fairies Got Talent by Suzanne Selfors

Truth or Hair by Suzanne Selfors

Fairy Tail Ending by Suzanne Selfors

Destiny Do-Over Diary companion books to the school series

General Villainy by Suzanne Selfors

Science & Sorcery by Suzanne Selfors

Hero Training by Suzanne Selfors

Once Upon a Pet

A Princely Present by Suzanne Selfors

Candy Wish Fish by Suzanne Selfors

Trouble with Jackalopes by Suzanne Selfors

Next Top Bird by Suzanne Selfors

Hedgehog’s Hexcellent Adventures by Suzanne Selfors

Horse of a Different Colour by Suzanne Selfors

Once Upon a Twist

When the Clock Strikes Cupid by Lisa Shea

Cerise and the Beast by Lisa Shea

Rosabella and the Three Bears by Perdita Finn

Duchess Lets Down Her Hair by Perdita Finn

The Kitty Mermaid by Perdita Finn

The Secret Diary of

The Secret Diary of Apple White by Heather Alexander

The Secret Diary of Raven Queen by Heather Alexander

Diary of an Evil Queen by Stacia Deutsch

Junior Novels

Dragon Games Stacia Deutsch

Epic Winter by Perdita Finn

Activity books

Yearbook

Royals and Rebels

The Sleepover Spellebration Party Planner by Kirsten Mayer

The Totally Tea-RRIFIC Hat-Tastic Book About YOU

Madeline Hatter’s Guide to Riddlish! A Topsy-Turvy Write-In Book by Elizabelle Castle

The Hat-Tastic Tea Party Planner by Melissa Yu

A Spelltacular Year

Plan Your Destiny

Ever After High Activity Book

Spellbinding Activities

Write Fableous Fairytales

Picture books

Welcome, Baby Dragons by Margaret Green

Let the Dragon Games Begin by Margaret Green

Royally Cool Adventure by Perdita Finn

Meet Crystal Winter by Perdita Finn

Colouring/Sticker books

Thronecoming Reusable Sticker Book by Melissa Yu

A Wonderlandiful Doodle Book by Jeanine Henderson

Draw Dream Create Sketchbook

An Enchanted Pop-Up Sketchbook



Other books

Five Minute Stories by Robert Rudman & Ellie Rose

Class of Classics by Leigh Dragoon & Jessi Sheron

The books that don’t have a link are ones I know exist but I couldn’t find on internet archive/other searching.

If you have any links to these missing books, or books that I don’t have PLEASE lmk. Or if you have higher quality or pdf links (since some of the books are just screenshots of pages that I put together on a doc…)

The last two books in the once upon a twist series don’t exist.. they were cancelled or only a few copies were made (and those who have them aren’t saying anything). But I’m hoping to find them somehow if I have to message perdita finn myself. I believe there are a few chapters up somewhere so I’ll try to compile all that’s available

Any title that is coloured with a link means I don’t have a pdf or full copy yet but I have a preview

Because this is getting so much attention make sure to check my pinned post that has more eah resources!!

There are also diaries that went along with the dolls that you can find on @everafterhigharchive’s page who is also responsible for most of the links here

(Also one of my interconnect libraries has meet Crystal Winter so I’ll upload that onto internet archive + add it on here once it ships)

[gumjester]

The morning after.