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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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White Horse - Chapter 21: June 2024 - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

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

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

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

Warnings and Notes:

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

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

Meanwhile on Twitter:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🔗 Clip attached

@/GridGossip:So let me get this straight:

Isabelle was in Monaco the entire weekend.

She celebrated Charles’ win with him.

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

And not a single one of her brothers remembered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Belle Verstappen & Charles Leclerc

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Emilie Abadie & Max Verstappen

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

Max: wait what

Max: CHARLES REALISED??

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

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

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

Max: Belle hasn’t texted me yet.

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

Max: Thank you. Really

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emilie: Consider it noted for next time.

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

Emilie: I’ll tell her.

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Pascale)

Charles: guys GUYS we forgot Belle’s birthday

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

Arthur: wait what …wait WHAT

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

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

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

Charles: I texted her about Canada no reply

Pascale: She hasn’t answered me either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles: okay thank you

Arthur: tell her we love her please

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

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

***

Call & Message Log – Belle Verstappen’s Phone

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

Incoming Calls:

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

Arthur Leclerc (19:15) – Missed Call

Emilie Abadie (19:20) - Missed Call

Pascale Leclerc (19:27) – Missed Call

Arthur Leclerc (19:39) – Missed Call

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

Arthur Leclerc: 19:17

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

19:22

Are you okay? Please just say something. Anything.

20:03

I’m so sorry. We were idiots.

Pascale Leclerc: 19:25

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

20:12

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm. What time is it?”

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

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

“He won?”

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

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

“He asked if you were okay.”

“I’m…” Belle paused. “Better, now.”

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

Belle’s body stilled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belle closed her eyes again.

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

Not tonight.

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

But for now?

She ignored the buzzing.

And let herself be held.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

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

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

Lando: WAIT WHAT SOMEONE PLEASE CONFIRM

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

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

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

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

Alex: Does anyone have the clip? For science?

Nico H.: I have it bookmarked.

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

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

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

Oscar: SHE WAVED AT HIM.

Carlos: IN THE GARAGE IN FERRARI RED

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

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

David: Live PR disaster. I actually winced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

George: True.

Lewis Hamilton: Justice for Belle.

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

Fernando: And peace. Away from that chaos.

Kimi: Took him long enough.

***

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

He buzzed the door anyway.

Once. Then again.

No response.

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

No answer.

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

Then the door across the hall creaked open.

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

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

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

The woman smiled, kind but surprised.

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

Lorenzo froze.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Lorenzo’s stomach dropped.

Moved in with her boyfriend.

A year ago.

And none of them knew.

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

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

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

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

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

And she hadn’t told them.

Not about the move.

Not about the boyfriend.

Not about… any of it.

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

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

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

Lorenzo felt that thought like a punch to the chest.

Had they really made her feel that invisible?

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

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Pascale)

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

Arthur: what?

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

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

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

Arthur: SHE HAS A WHAT

Charles: SHE HAS A BOYFRIEND??

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

Lorenzo: No. None of us did, clearly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arthur: people smile when they’re drowning, Charles

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

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

Arthur: what if something happened

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

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

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

Arthur: but we don’t know where she is

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

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

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

***

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

No new messages. No calls. No Belle.

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

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

Which, to be fair, it was.

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

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

Charles swallowed the lump rising in his throat.

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

Alexandra was the only one not pretending to be calm.

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

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

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

Arthur flinched beside her, but didn’t respond.

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

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

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

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

Charles opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

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

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

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

He’d won in Monaco.

And lost the only sister he’d ever had.

***

Group Chat: GRID 2024

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

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

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

George: Charles. Deep breath.

Carlos: She’s safe.

Charles: YOU KNOW WHERE SHE IS???

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

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

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

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

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

Charles: SHE’S MY SISTER.

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

Oscar: Charles. Stop.

Charles: No, Oscar, he LET me forget!

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

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

Charles: Excuse me??

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

Charles: I have a right to be upset!

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

Lando: ...wow

Daniel: Oscar just cleared the entire grid.

George: No survivors.

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

Charles: Wait. WHAT ARE YOU NOT TELLING ME

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

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

Charles: HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT??

Oscar: Because she’s home.

Charles: What does that mean??

George: ...not our story to tell

Carlos: Exactly.

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

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

Oscar: Charles, stop texting. Start listening.

Charles: I need to fix it.

Carlos: Then don’t make this about you.

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

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

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

Charles: … I just want to fix it.

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

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Esteban: Pierre would tell Charles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lewis: And if he does?

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

Sebastian: Long live Belle Verstappen. She deserves peace.

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

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max: He won’t get the chance.

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Jos Verstappen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Sophie: I just watched the interview.

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

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

Sophie: God, I hope it crushes him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max: She’ll love that. She loves you.

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

***

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

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

Charles had realized. Finally.

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

It had taken that long. Two weeks.

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, Lando broke the silence.

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

“But you’re still brooding.”

“I’m not brooding,” Max muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

“That was admiration! That’s different.”

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

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

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

Oscar nodded solemnly. “Elite taste.”

“I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Oscar yawned.

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

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

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

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

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

Max looked down at the screen. Still nothing.

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

Oscar nodded. “You’ll be home soon.”

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

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

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

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

Oscar: “Tattoo it on your neck.”

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

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

Let them joke.

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

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

***

Text Messages: Alexandra Saint-Mleux & Belle Verstappen

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Alexandra Saint-Mleux & Charlotte Di Pietro

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

Charlotte: …what?

Alexandra: All of us. Her entire family.

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

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

Charlotte: Oh my god.

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

Charlotte: Is Isabelle okay?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

The apartment was quiet when Max stepped inside.

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

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

He pushed the door open quietly.

There she was.

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

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

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

She stirred.

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

“Hey,” he whispered. “I’m home.”

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

“Did Emilie let you in?” she mumbled.

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

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

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

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

“They all texted,” she said.

He nodded. “I know.”

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

“You don’t have to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You always see me,” she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Max Fewtrell & Lando Norris

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max Fewtrell: Who’s Emilie?

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

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

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

Lando: …I didn’t say that.

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

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

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

Lando: …because I went to the wedding?

Max Fewtrell: THE WHAT

Lando: ...

Max Fewtrell: LAN THE WEDDING

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

Max Fewtrell: MAX. VERSTAPPEN?!

Lando: Yes

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

Lando: Correct

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

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

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

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

Max Fewtrell: Fair

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

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

***

Lorenzo had barely slept.

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

By morning, he couldn’t sit still anymore.

He needed answers.

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

Her job.

Atelier Renard Architects.

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

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

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

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

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

Lorenzo blinked. “What?”

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

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

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

Lorenzo stepped back slightly, reeling.

Quit.

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

And no one in her family had noticed.

Not one of them.

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

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

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

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

Isabelle hadn’t just moved.

She hadn’t just gone quiet.

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

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

She’d untethered herself from them all.

And now?

Now they had no idea where she stood.

If she was hurt. If she was gone.

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

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

***

Text Messages: Alexandra Saint Mleux & Emilie Abadie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alexandra: Of course. Is she alone?

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max stilled. “Okay.”

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

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

“I have something for you.”

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

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

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

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

A lion plush.

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

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

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

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

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

“For ours.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belle’s breath caught.

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

She bit her lip. “Is that… okay?”

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

He looked down, then up at her again.

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

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

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

Belle laughed, soft and teary.

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

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

***

1K notes · View notes

gojoscinnamonroll · 7 months ago

Text

wanna let him unwrap me & get on top of him by the fireplace..

cw: mdni + ageless blogs dni !! afab reader x choso kamo, reader and choso live together, mentions of marriage & children, lots of smooches, smut!!! , lingerie, everything is consented, p in v unprotected sexxxx, riding, missionary, switch! choso hehe, pet names, oral, breeding kink, swearing/profanity, creampies

a/n: HAPPY DECEMBER AND HOLIDAYS MY CUTIES!! ^_^ wc: 1.6k

“hm? a bow v-string panty? how cute.” you thought to yourself as you were in a lingerie boutique while out shopping with your friends, utahime and shoko, at the mall for presents for your lovers and family. you originally weren’t planning on stopping by for lingerie since you were out shopping for your loved ones' gifts but you remembered how you were needing some new underwear so you decided to stroll in for a moment since you were already out blowing money.

“oooh, are you gonna buy that to wear for your little cho cho?” shoko snickered.

your face flushed into a darker shade of pink than the blush you were already wearing from her remark. “sho, i love you but please shut up.” you mumbled, turning away from embarrassment.

“yeah shoko, shut it you weirdo.” utahime rolled her eyes in disgust. but you couldn’t help to anticipate that maybe this would be a cute little naughty surprise for your bashful boyfriend to add onto his christmas gifts. so you quickly grabbed the red pair and hid it under the rest of the undergarments you were already planning to purchase to head the register to check out. (and when the cashier had asked if you wanted to also purchase the matching bow bra that ties in the front, you definitely said yes.)

later that night when you got home from your shopping spree and started to put all your purchases away, you couldn't help but stare at the matching lingerie you had laying out on the dresser and imagine how your boyfriend choso will react. you heard choso walking in and hurriedly try to hide the underwear so that the surprise wouldn’t be ruined.

"hello baby, how was the mall? got any christmas shopping done?" pulling you in for a hug with a kiss to your forehead as he sets down some hot chocolate he made for you. "I did! I can't wait for you to see what I got you!" giving him a glittering smile.

"ooh! ooh ooh, is it that new gaming headset or the new game that just came out?" choso asked jumping up and down like a kid in a candy store. "noooo you silly!! I can't tell you, you have to wait until christmas! anyways, i'm going to go get dinner started." you held his cheek and kissed him walking away.

boy, was he in for a treat.

────

december 25th, 7am -

that morning, you had woken up earlier than usual to place the last few presents under the tree and get started on breakfast, being careful not to wake choso— the present you had for him waiting under the silk ivory robe you had on while getting the fireplace ready since it was a little chilly in your shared home. you heard the shuffling of footsteps coming from upstairs and your heart began to thump in excitement and nervousness.

as choso was heading downstairs, he stopped in his tracks absolutely starstruck at the sight before him— his gorgeous girlfriend under the tree, staring back at him like an angel.

“merry christmas, cho.” you purred while sitting on your heels.

“w- what is this baby?” he stammered with crimson tint to his cheeks. his heart jumping, (and so was something else) and the butterflies in his stomach fluttering as if he was falling in love with you all over again. you knew your boyfriend liked what he saw because it was obvious in those chestnut brown, doe eyes of his. “it’s your gifts!” playing dumb as you handed him the present with the game and new headphones he kept asking you for the last 3 months prior. “go ahead, open it!” clapping your hands in joy, but your smile faded as he set the gift to the side.

“that’s not what i’m talking about… i’m talking about..” he stopped to adore you, the way your pillowy breasts sat pretty in the bow-tied bra, and the way your panties hugged your hips, all while giving him an innocent look as if you don’t know what your doing to him. still sitting before him, he kneeled down to your level.

“this.” he lightly grazed his fingers over the big red bow on the front of your bra. “oh!-” still playing dumb. “it’s my new underwear! do you like it?” batting your eyelashes at him.

and with how he was eyeing you down, he might as well just have been drooling a puddle on the floor.

“y-yeah, i.. i do..” choso breathed out. you gently pulled him in to capture his lips with yours, him whining into the kiss. as the two of you pressed lips against each other and shared each other’s breath, you gently pushed him back just right in front of the fireplace to climb on top of him.

“fuck..” he moaned breathlessly in between kisses, “this is the best present i’ve gotten already.” you paused to admire his handsome face and leaned in, “well santa told me how much of a good boy you’ve been this year.” cooing in his ear as his gaze fall onto the pretty bow tied in between the valley of your breasts.

“can i untie this?” looking up at you through his long eyelashes.

“of course you can cho, i’m a present just like you said.” with those words, he began to unwrap the bow on your bra and gently caress your breasts once untied. his lips made their way to clasp around your nipples and drew circles with his tongue while his other hand began running up and down your soft body as you started grinding against the hard on in his pajamas— your poor boyfriend becoming overstimulated from the feeling because he started whimpering into your breasts.

“how bad do you want it?” you whispered sultrily into his ear, “i want it bad, now please. please baby i need it.” he begged with dilated pupils and a raspy voice.

you lifted your hips up a little to assist him in removing his bottoms and moved your floss of an underwear to the side to slowly sink down on his pulsating and achy cock. he let out the nastiest, pornographic and needy moan once you got all of him into you.

“mmp, you feel so f- fuck! so fucking good” he whined out. the sight below you so heavenly as you watch choso slowly become a wreck– his long dark hair sticking to the sweat on his forehead, his eyes rolling back as you continue to bounce on him.

“gonna cum for me already, handsome?” tantalizing your poor lover. “b-baby, please slow down i don’t wanna cum yet, oh s-shit” but it was too late. he’s just too in love with you and the way you feel around him to control himself, tears falling from his eyes from how good you were pleasuring him but also because of how embarrassed he was that he came undone too quickly.

“it’s okay cho, i-” cradling him, but your breath hitched from surprise because he flipped you over to switch positions with you, him now being the one on top.

“i’m not done yet, you’re gonna take this cock for me princess.” he babbled, as if a light in his head had switched. he slipped the rest of your lingerie off, lining his swollen tip against your leaking slit before slowly burying himself inside as you let out a moan that was like music to his ears. once he bottomed out into you, he started thrusting in and out like a dog in heat.

“this is what you wanted right? to tease me? hah- cmon pretty, you can take it.” he was splitting you open so deliciously that you started seeing stars and began clenching around him like a vice.

“ch- cho please, s- slow down, you're too big” you choked out as you gripped onto his biceps and wrapped your thighs around his waist.

“look at me or i’ll stop.” he gently grabbed your chin, and you looked back up at him with glazed eyes. “you’re so pretty baby… i’m gonna marry you mmh- then i’m gonna give you babies that are pretty just like you.” gasping and looking into your eyes as he kept hitting that spot in you that was pushing you over the edge.

he felt too good. way too fucking good. you felt like you were getting sent into another world even. you and your cunt becoming a sloppy mess before him, lewd noises coming from the both of you, drool spilling from the side of your lips, your juices squirting all over his chiseled abs and maybe even onto the rug. but at this point, you were too cockdrunk too care. you could feel every vein of his gliding against your velvet walls as his swollen tip kept hitting your sweet spot.

"f-fuck, oh my g-" your voice trembling and eyes rolling back as you feel your orgasm approaching. " 'm gonna c-cum!" writhing under him as your climax washes over you and sucks him in.

"y-your so tight wifey.. please let me cum in you please, I need to ngh!" his release painting your insides as he slams his hips into you one last final time, and it's almost taking everything in him not to propose to you while still being balls deep inside of you still.

as he slides his glistening dick out from you, some of his seed spill out, reminding him how much he has filled you up. and don't worry... he’s not letting one drop go to waste. he holds your thighs open to push the mess back in with his fingers.

once he gets you all cleaned up, he picks you up in bridal style. “that was the best christmas gift ever!" as he brushes the hair out of your face and gives you a loving and warm kiss on your flustered cheek.

"choooo!" you giggled, "don’t forget you still have to open the other gift i got you!!"

reblogs & likes are very much appreciated! pls don't copy or steal my works <3

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heyimkana · 2 months ago

Text

Husband!Jinwoo tries to guess your favorite positions in bed (with demonstrations 😏)

A deleted/alternate scene from Pillow Talk Part 3 but can be read separately.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo X Female Reader

Genre: Marriage AU, fluff, smut

Content Warnings: dry humping, choking, hair-pulling, dirty talk

Word Count: 4K

“Do you still have more questions you want to ask me?” Jinwoo says, despite his mind already drifting somewhere else. “If you do, then this is your last chance, Angel. I’m afraid I’m starting to get a little… impatient.”

You wish he could just sever it, that last rope that binds him together. And perhaps you can, he’s handing you the knife to do it, after all. But the second you're tempted to do so, a question pops up in your mind. A question that, if he knows the answer, will bring you even more ecstasy than he’s planning to offer you.

You draw a breath. “Do you, umm… Do you know what my favorite positions are?”

“Hmm?” Your husband tilts his head slightly to the side, digesting your words with his eyes blinking in surprise. “You mean, sex positions?” His lips break into a coquettish smile when he witnesses your little bashful nod. “I thought you weren’t gonna ask anything naughty, Princess.”

Heat pools fast in your cheeks, but you ignore it. “Three guesses. If you get all of them right—”

“—You’ll let me have my way with you right now.”

He finishes your sentence for you almost in a growl, his patience hanging by a thread. You cower slightly. “Y-your way?”

“That’s right. My way.” He pushes forward on the bed, still keeping you trapped underneath him. “Any way I want”—he presses his knee firmly against your core—“Anything I want”—his hands begin to wander, one palm skating over your chest and stomach from above your nightgown, dangerously caressing your neck—“However I want.” He seizes your wrists and pins them over your head. His face hovers just above yours, his lips twisting in a titillating smirk. “And you’re just gonna have to be a good girl and take whatever I give you.”

You suddenly feel so small and frail underneath him, perfect to be cuddled and ruined. The hunger in his gaze stirs your insides with excitement. “O-okay. Just… remember that I’m pregnant.”

“Of course, baby,” he chuckles, a delightful melody in your ear. “I’ll be so gentle with you, I promise.”

There’s a hint of devilry behind his tone that convinces you otherwise. He’s going to be gentle, yes, but if there were a limit on what he could do to you, he’d make sure he’d drive you to that very edge. You swallow thickly. “And if you guess it wrong?”

“That’s impossible,” he nearly scoffs, using one hand to hold both of your wrists together as his other one travels down your body. “I’ll get them right, all three of them. But, for the sake of our conversation, I’ll humor you.” He dips his head down to pepper slow, torturous kisses down your jawline as he speaks. “Let’s see… What does my sweet wife want?” The tip of his sharp nose grazes your pulsating vein, his free hand moving back to the aching spot between your legs. “How about I’ll be your slave for a day?”

You shiver, his mouth feels hot and wet against your clavicle. “You… You’ll do anything I ask you to?”

“Mm-hmm, anything.” His tongue traces the hollow of your collarbone, his fingers lightly stroking over your bare core. “I’ll serve you, do everything you ask. You’ll have me completely at your mercy.”

Fuck, that sounds so good, so tempting. “That’s quite a huge amount of power you give me,” you titter, the sound coming out a little bit strained as he dips his fingers between your folds, rough digits covered by your slick.

“That’s the point, love,” he smirks against your skin, gently running his fingers up and down your heat, teasing your hole but never penetrating inside. “I want you to have that power over me”—his mouth explores your ear—“I want to be vulnerable”—your neck—“I want to be weak for you”—the valley of your chest—“And I want you”—he gnaws lightly against the underside of your breast—“to control me.”

You squirm beneath him as he keeps your hands tied together above your head, a shot of pleasure permeating you. “C-control you? Why?”

At your question, Jinwoo stops his ministrations, retracting his fingers from between your thighs before he kisses his way back to your lips. “Because I trust you, Angel,” he whispers. “Because I want to give up control to you, even if just for a moment.” He returns the small proximity between you, capturing your stare. “Because deep down”—he releases his grip from your wrists, his gaze softening, filled with the sincerity of the words he speaks—“I crave to be vulnerable with you, to surrender everything to you. All of me. Body, mind, heart, and soul... Everything.”

Your heart palpitates, thrumming in anticipation. The desire to be used for his pleasure still remains, but the need to take care of him, to give him the love and the attention he craves, consumes you just as strongly. Ever since your daughter arrived, you haven’t really gotten the chance to be with him properly, have you? Your undivided attention is some form of luxury he rarely attains, as you are always so occupied with taking care of your child and keeping the house spotless clean. You’re doing an excellent job as a mother, and there’s not a single fraction of his heart that wishes to complain, but… Sometimes, Jinwoo misses the days when it was only him in your mind. You can see that now.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly say, caressing his cheek. “I was so busy being a mom that I forgot how to be your wife.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not true. You’ve done so well, both as a mother and my wife,” he smiles back, leaning further into your touch. “It’s just… Sometimes I want to be spoiled, that’s all. Teased, even.”

The way he only shows this side of himself to you makes you feel proud of yourself, and beyond thankful. “Right. Cause you’re the real baby in the house,” you giggle. “Well then, baby, go ahead and make your first guess.”

The tenderness in his eyes transforms quickly into mischief. “Your first favorite position is…” Without warning, Jinwoo lifts you and flips you over to your stomach. You land face-first on the pillow before you’re yanked back to your hands and knees, your mouth separated in a startled gasp when he pushes his protruding bulge against your behind. “This,” he finishes, his body leaning forward to whisper it in your ear, his right hand pushing up your gown to expose your lower half to him. You can feel it, the outline of his hardening cock pressing firmly against your ass, separated only by the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“You love it when I make love to you from behind.” His grip is tight on your hips, his bare torso hanging just a few inches away from your spine. “When I hug you close just like this”—He lays his chest and stomach onto your backside, embracing you with one hand while he props his weight on the bed with the other—“and my hand slides down between your legs like before”—his calloused palm glides down from your stomach to your aching core—“and I touch you here”—his two fingers find your clit—“right where you want me the most”—he rubs them teasingly against your sensitive bud—“while I fuck you deep and slow”—he grinds his hips against you, torturing you with the sensation of having him so close and yet so far. He captures your earlobe between his teeth, giving it a playful bite, his smirk beyond sinful as he whispers, “Isn’t that right, Sweetheart?”

Seeing how your body tenses up, Jinwoo can tell he’s right. He leans back to enjoy the view, detaching his hand from the bed to drag two fingers from your nape down to your back, slowly following the dip of your spine, watching the way you shiver and arch your back from the touch. He removes his other hand from between your legs, ignoring the little mewls you let out as a sign of protest, and placing both hands on your hips.

“Do you know how beautiful your body looks when I take you from behind?” He rams himself forward, his clothed cock rubbing against your folds, itching to just tear apart the piece of clothing that separates you and push inside till he’s buried deep in your warmth. “When you're on your hands and knees like this, your arms trembling each time I thrust inside?” He lets out a low groan when you start to push back, your body helplessly seeking more friction. “Seeing you from this angle turns me on so fucking much, baby.”

You can’t bite back the whimper that threatens to spill, the sheets bunched in your hands. “J-Jin—”

He suddenly presses down on the middle of your shoulder blades, driving you down the bed, your face glued to the sheets while he keeps your lower half in the air. “You know how much I love being in control, don’t you, Angel?” His breathing has grown labored, but other than that, he seems to still have his sanity intact, unlike you. Jinwoo keeps you pinned to the bed, his hand gripping your nape from behind. “Seeing you take whatever I give you, your back arching for more, so submissive and obedient for me.” He continues to grind against your behind, moving agonizingly slow on purpose. “And not just that… I could also pull on your hair”—he demonstrates his words, the hand on your nape moving up to grab a fistful of your strands—“And hear you moan louder for me when I do.”

To prove his point, he tugs on your roots, doing it so suddenly, that it robs a wanton moan out of you. His eyes are suffused with lust, his smile filthy. “That’s right, baby. Just like that.” He gives you another hard thrust, one that you know would’ve driven his cock so deeply inside if there were no barriers between you. He tosses his head back, his bottom lip bitten as he swallows his groan. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy.”

Just like him, you can feel your body becoming more and more desperate with each passing second. Fueled by so much desire, you’re starting to whimper out his name, your lower half continuously moving on its own, rubbing yourself against him.

Jinwoo bends down, laughing softly in your ear. “Careful, love. You’re starting to sound a little needy.”

Needy— That snaps you out of whatever magic that bound you before. Irritation flares inside you, and you break away from him, tossing yourself back to the bed, throwing daggers with your eyes.

Although startled at first, another cocky smile makes its way onto his face as he looks down at you, watching you look all cute and flustered as you lie on your back with a mean scowl ornamenting your pretty face. “Are you angry?” He chuckles, his hand stroking your thigh. “I’m sorry, honey. I was just kidding.”

“You say that, but you’re just gonna end up teasing me again.”

“Well, when the opportunity arises, yes.”

You try to kick that shameless grin away from his face, but he only captures your leg easily with one hand, and press a loving kiss on your ankle. “Hey, come on now, don’t be mad.” He brings himself to you, trying to win your heart with his impish, yet romantic smile, his fingers slipping between yours as he cages your body again. Sweet, playful kisses glaze your collarbones, accompanied by the grin that he tries to repress. “Forgive me, Angel.”

“Whatever,” you snort. He’s not sorry. “You’re mean.”

“Am I?” Your reaction only amuses him further. “Are you upset because I got it right on the first guess?”

“I’m upset because you’re annoying,” you mutter through gritted teeth, but you can't stop the fire from kissing your cheeks because yes, yes indeed, he got it right, and you’re not sure if you should feel ashamed or impressed. “Don’t act so cocky, Husband. You only got one right out of three.”

He smiles at your insistence, finding your stubbornness both adorable and sexy. He runs his hand down your hip, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin. “You’ve got a point, Wife. That is only one of them, but I can tell I’m going to get the rest right as well.”

“God, I wanna wipe that damn smirk off your face.”

“Feisty,” he simpers, growing even more excited. He’s thoroughly enjoying every second of it, loving every bit of your expression. “Since my princess has grown impatient, let’s finish the game quickly, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but you await his next move. Confidence, or perhaps arrogance, glints in his eyes as he speaks. “I know you like being in charge, Sweetheart, so for my second guess, I’ll go with…” And just as abruptly as before, he switches position. In one swift action, faster than your eyes can follow, Jinwoo rolls onto his back and sets you down above him. Straddling his lap with your legs spread, you fall forward from the sudden movement, your palms pressed flat against the bed to balance yourself, his head trapped in between. “You on top, riding me,” he finishes, still with his goddamn smirk intact.

Just how the fuck did he get it right again?

Seeing you turn flustered, Jinwoo can tell he’s winning the game, but there’s no mockery in his eyes when he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear, his gesture sweet, romantic even. “I have to say, this might be one of my favorites, too,” he tells you, his gaze turning tender. “The way you look at me when you’re above me… The way you roll your hips, your lips parting as you moan out my name… You look so fucking pretty like this, Angel.”

Your heart flutters no matter how much you try to tame the butterflies inside you. You’re excited, and you can tell by the growing bulge beneath you that he is, too, perhaps even so much more. “Jin—”

“It turns you on, too, doesn’t it, being in control?” he cuts you off with a question, his hand traveling down your side. “Which makes me think… Maybe you’re not so submissive, after all.” His palms now rest on your thighs, slowly gliding up your skin. “Do you still remember that night when we celebrated your birthday together? You were terribly drunk, and I was ready to let you sleep for the night, but you insisted on—what did you say back then—unwrapping your birthday gift.”

You nearly combust into flames, remembering that yes, I did say that, with your husband obviously being the so-called birthday gift. The memory is a little hazy, blurred by all the wine you’d consumed that night, but you can fairly remember how desperate you were back then, how nee—

“God, you were so needy that night,” he finishes the shameful thought you hate to admit. “Probably the cutest you’d ever been. You pushed me down to the bed, and climbed onto my lap, clawing against my chest to take off my shirt. No matter how much I told you to stop and take some rest, you didn’t listen. You were so… desperate for me.”

Your cheeks sizzle, shame coating your face. “T-that wasn’t me. That was the alcohol.”

“Oh, I don't doubt that, Sweetheart. But it’s not fair if you blame everything on the alcohol. After all, it didn’t put thoughts in your head, it only made you braver.” His devilish grin returns. “The truth was, you’d been wanting to do that to me for a while, hadn’t you? To dominate me in bed?”

Your heartbeat soars. You can’t deny that it’s true. Seeing him in this position, your eyes roaming over his features and his bare chest, makes you recall all those nights when you embraced the bolder side of you, bouncing on his lap without letting your shame take control. It brought you so much satisfaction seeing him like that, with his eyes turning half-lidded from the pleasure you gave him, the muscles in his abdomen contracting with every grind of your hips, his jaw dropping in a silent groan… It always leaves you wanting more.

But that night in particular… Were you even… wilder than usual? “W-what did I do to you exactly?”

The way his lips twitch into a broader smirk—you probably shouldn’t have asked that.

“Let’s rewind the memory, shall we?” Jinwoo captures your hands, detaching them from the bed. “You put your hands right here”—he places them on his naked chest, letting you remember in detail just how lean, and toned, and just absolutely breathtaking his body is—“And you moved your hips like this…” He settles his own hands on your waist, pressing you down harder against him, making sure you feel him, the contour of his cock and how it twitches under your weight, separated only by the soft layer of his sweatpants. He guides you forward, the slight friction of his fabric against your bare folds sending tremors down your thighs. He chuckles at your reaction, the sound low and breathy as he watches you intently, loving how much this affects you, the way it affects him.

“And you keep grinding on me like this”—he lifts his own hips to answer you, his grip on your hips tightening a bit as he silently commands you to pick up your pace—“Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and”—a moan escapes him when you start to move on your own, his eyes drooping, filled with lust—“forth… Mm, yeah, just like that.”

He lets you move on your own for a bit, reveling in the moment, your wetness staining his pants the same way his own cock is smearing precum from below. He releases a ragged breath, his nails raking down your thighs. “You didn’t care about me that night, about what I liked, what I wanted. You were just moving to your own desire, making sure you rub your clit against me with each roll of your hips, riding me as if my cock was made for you to use as you please. You were so fucking sexy, baby.”

Amidst the shame that burns you from the inside, you remember how… full you felt that night with his cock throbbing inside you, and now you feel so empty, your heat clenching around nothing.

Jinwoo detects your frustration, but he dismisses it with a cruel smile. He has his own game to play and he’s nowhere near finished.

“I don’t know if you remember this, but”—he takes your dominant hand in his, curling his fingers around your wrist—“in the heat of the moment, you wrap your fingers around my neck”—he swallows in excitement as he brings your hand to his neck—“and you squeeze tight”—he closes your fingers around him, pressing your palm down on his Adam’s apple—“tighter and tighter”—he guides you to do it harder, clamping your fingers firmly around his pipes until you can feel every constrict his throat makes as he chokes out his words—“Until I—ngh—started gasping out your name.” His chuckles turn strained, his cheeks turning a little flushed. “I could see how much it turned you on, and it aroused me, too. To have you do whatever you want with me…” You start adding more pressure on your own, and he almost rolls his eyes back in rapture. “God, I wanna be under your mercy again.”

“You—” Seeing how brazen he is sets you on fire. “I didn’t know you liked being dominated.”

“I don’t, but I love being with you.” Exhilaration flashes in his eyes, his pupils dilated. “I love whatever you do to me, and whatever I do to you. Seeing you act all submissive and obedient for me drives me crazy, baby, but watching how excited you looked from choking me was a treat for the eyes. And it felt good being under your control. Being used as a toy for your pleasure…” He bites the corner of his lip, his hips bucking up to meet yours. “Makes me so goddamn hard just by thinking about it.”

“You’re so—” You don’t bother to continue your words, choosing to let your hips do the talking for you. You start grinding on him faster, your hips rolling, and it feels so dirty and thrilling to do something so obscene without truly touching him.

Jinwoo adds his thumb to the game, pressing his digit against your clit, giving you the needed friction. You mewl above him, still aching for more. You feel like you’re missing a part of you, and it’s right there, but you can’t have it. This desperation on your face… You looked like this, too, that night, didn't you? And God, he fucking loved it as much as he does now. Something about you rubbing yourself against his clothed cock like an animal in heat awakens something primal inside him.

“Fuck,” he chuckles darkly, “You’re leaving stains all over my pants, Sweetheart.”

I don’t care, your mind responds, so much that your tongue sits idle in your mouth instead of forming the words out loud. His voice turns subdued in your mind, muffled by the filthy thoughts of you tugging his pants down to his thighs and driving his length inside you.

Should I just do it?

“Not yet, Angel,” he stops you just before your thoughts can turn into actions, his voice sounding just as breathless as he reads your expression. “Don’t beg for my cock just yet. I’ll make it worth the wait, I promise, but for now…” He thrusts up at the same time he pulls you down, your soft moan intermingling with his in the air at the contact. You can almost feel it, feel the way his hardness teases your ring even through the fabric and it feels so good but far from enough.

Jinwoo’s eyes shimmer with the same thrill. “Let’s drive ourselves insane and see who crumbles first.”

You want to accept the challenge, but at this point, you don’t mind if you lose. Actually, you want to lose, just to get this fucking over with.

You don’t stop, your body moving more frantically above him with each passing second. One grind of your hips hits just right, and clouds of white start to form behind your lids. You can’t believe you’re coming just from dry-humping your husband like a fucking teenager but you are and he senses it.

Jinwoo sees the way your body trembles, your movements stutter, your muscles tautening before they begin to unwind. Your fingers tighten around his neck as you drown yourself in ecstasy, and it hurts just the way he wants it. Your grip on him loosens as you slowly climb down from your high, your hand sliding back down to his chest to keep yourself steady.

Jinwoo swallows thickly. It was dangerous, so close. Had you continued to rock your hips a few more times, he would’ve reached cloud nine, too.

He watches you with a soft smile, catching his own breath as his hand gently strokes your thigh. “Felt good?”

You sit on his lap, your chest rising and falling like the tides. You’re spent. “Yeah…”

“You’ve come twice today,” he titters softly. “And I haven’t really done anything yet.”

You don’t care. He can make fun of you all you want, you don’t give a damn. You’re feeling far too good to pay attention to anything.

Jinwoo pushes his upper half off the bed, keeping you on his lap with one hand around your waist as he leans back with his other hand propped behind him. “Take off your gown for me, Sweetheart.”

Still dazed, you answer your puppeteer obediently, reaching down to grip the hem of your nightgown and pull it over your head. You’re only halfway to doing so when he stops you. “Slowly,” he says, his voice sweet but full of command, dripping with desire. “Tease me, Angel. Make me ache for you more. I know you can do it.” With your heart racing a tad faster, you steel yourself and do as he commanded you to, rising to your knees and stripping yourself bare at an agonizing pace, torturing him with every inch of skin you expose.

Watching you with a flush creeping across your cheeks, your chest still heaving up and down, your eyes staring back at him with a mix of need and love and a little bit of shyness that you once cast away, Jinwoo releases a heavy breath, carving every detail into his memory. He shortens the small distance between you, tangling his strong arms around your waist, skin rubbing against skin. “Gorgeous.”

You gaze down at him as he looks up at you, your breasts on the same level as his face. “You… You said that position was one of your favorites.” He hums in approval, placing an open-mouth kiss on your chest. You brush his hair away from his eyes, enthralled by the sight. “What’s your number one, then?”

He smiles at your curiosity, and the way your eyes remain hazy even after a moment has passed. “That’s a secret, Sweetheart. You’ll find out what it is if I get the rest of them right.”

You sigh, your impatience returning. You’ve forgotten that he still has one guess left. “Hurry up and hit me with your third guess, then.”

“Your third favorite”—Jinwoo hooks an arm around your waist, lifts you for a split second before he pushes you back to the bed, settling himself between your legs—“is when I have you lying on your back, legs wrapped tight around me. When you can feel me so deep inside you, and I can taste your lips as I fuck you hard and fast.” He can feel you shiver as he says it, your body so responsive, reacting to his words. His fringe falls over his eyes as his face hovers above yours, a smirk playing on his lips. “I was right again, wasn’t I?”

Three times. Out of all the things you’ve done with him, how did he manage to get all of your favorite positions three times in a row? “No, you got it wrong.”

He raises an eyebrow in amused surprise when you say that, seeing through your lies. “Seems like my princess wants to play dirty tonight. Are you that desperate to have me as your slave? Kinda makes me want to lose on purpose.”

Your plan to wash off the damn smirk backfires as it only persists longer on his face. “I’m not lying!”

“Your body gave you away, Angel. I saw how you reacted before. You liked it.” He grins roguishly. “And even if I guessed it wrong, once I’m done with you tonight,” he presses down on you, his sensual whisper echoing right in your ear. “I’ll make sure it gets on the list.”

You shudder, quickly succumbing to your defeat. “Fine. You win. What now?”

A Cheshire cat’s smile forms on his face as a sense of victory fills him. It’s about damn time you ask him that question.

Jinwoo tugs the strings on your body once more, rolling you to your stomach until you’re pressed flat against the bed. His hips press down against yours from behind, his hand fisting a handful of your hair and he tugs it back, earning himself a low groan. Deprived of your options as you’re being held still, your eyes land on the standing mirror before you, just the way he wants you to. It reflects you perfectly, showcasing how helpless you are beneath him, the pathetic look on your face—so eager to be touched, and the way his gaze turns dark as it meets your own.

“Now,” Jinwoo whispers in your ear, keeping your eyes locked with his in the mirror as he smirks. “I get to do with you as I please.”

***

A/N: I had to write down the most basic sex positions ever 'cause I know y'all jinwoo girlies are vanilla af LMFAOOO

btw what do you think jinwoo's favorite position is 👀

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mmisosoupp · 2 months ago

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Things I think the haikyuu boys would do before dating you

(Karasuno ver.)

Hinata

•Most definitely confides in you.

•does anything that he can do to attempt to impress you. Weather being trying extra hard in his classes, trying a super cool new attack, or even just talking about things that he did that he deems a cool.

•is pretty touchy, not in a weird way. But he tends to somehow get his hands on you one way or another.

•He gets so hyped up seeing you at any sort of volleyball game, and he tries extra hard to do something cool and / or win.

Kageyama

•I personally believe he pays a lot of attention to things that aren't volleyball and that transfers to you. You tell him about a show you liked once three weeks ago? Yeah, he remembers and asks you about it when a new episode comes out.

•He tries his best to compliment you. He's not very good at it though, but I promise he tries.

•usally isn't a good listener, but for you he is, it's like a switch clicks on when you talk that has him zeroed into your rants and rambles

Yamaguchi

•He LIVES to complement you. There isn't a day where he isn't saying you look amazing or that he likes the way you did your hair that day.

•he's not very fond of touching. Like he would normally be very uncomfortable If someone tried to hug him. But every time you hug him, he melts into your touch, like he could be there all day.

•He will NEVER, and I mean never let you feel left out. He knows what it feels like to be left out and he wouldn't ever wish that on you.

•(metaphorically) dies when you get too close to him. His freckled face turns a bright shade of read.

Tsukishima

•somehow gets snarkier with you. But not in a bullying sense, he doesn't tease you more than anyone else. If you can tease him back, OH he has a field day.

•not only does he get snarkier, but he's also nicer to you. Especially if it's around other people who annoy him (hinata and kageyama)

It's kinda scary how nice he becomes.

•takes geuine interest in the things you talk about, especially if you do the same for him.

Tanaka

•you get the kiyoko treatment I fear. So if you don't like that, sucks to be you.

•another one who tries his hardest to impress you. He tries his best fo score extra points during a game or just look cool.

•is incredibly bashful. Dude, in private, he's internally panicking because he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of you.

Nishinoya

•literally says I love you to you. "I love you, yknow that?" Good morning and goodnight texts "Goodnight, I love you" "Good morning, love youuu"

•gets you things that reminds him of you, a pair of socks with your favorite animal. Bought. A bracelet with your favorite colors on it. Also bought.

Sugawara

•flirts I don't care. you both have definitely made out "as friends"

•uses nicknames on you like "darling" or "my love" again just as friends, right? (No he's deeply in love with you)

•takes so many pictures with you. Like he has an album just of selfie with him titled: K + (your initial), he would die if you saw that folder name

Daichi

•pays extra attention to you, another one who buys things that remind him of you. He's gotten you a key chain of your favorite character that you cherish now.

•is protective of you but not OVERprotective. But he's always making sure you don't get hurt. (Not that he wouldn't mind taking care of you) He's a natural care taker due to being the oldest of his siblings.

•is always subconsciously bringing you up in conversations with the other third years. Poor guy doesn't even realize it.

Asahi

•is always showing you his sketches of outfits he's drawn, somehow they're always very close to your style (I wonder why that is..)

•He reassures you anytime you feel down. He never wants you to feel upset. I mean if he knows what it feels like to not be happy with himself why would he want you to feel the same?

•cuddlebug even before the relationship, you two are latched to each other's hip. Always touching each other.

•let's you play with his hair a the time. Usally he wouldn't let people touch his hair but he can make an exception.

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clara-a7 · 3 months ago

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F1 𝙂𝙍𝙄𝘿 | 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚 (1/2)

(part.2 here~)

彡CONTAINS ; oscar piastri, franco colapinto, lando norris, ollie bearman, isack hadjar, george russell

彡WARNINGS ; fluff

彡REQUESTED? ; No~ (requests are open!)

彡WORDS ; 650

彡DISCLAIMER ; Everything written here is FICTITIOUS.

彡AUTHOR'S NOTE ; Sorry if here are any mistakes, english isn't my first language

⤷Oscar Piastri

Oscar shows his love through actions, not words.

He doesn’t make big speeches, but his affection is in the little things.

He notices when your hands are full and takes your bag. When you get cold, he quietly gives you his hoodie or a snack appears in your lap when you didn’t even realize you were hungry

When you’re tired, he either keeps the conversation going or just lets you rest. He never says “I love you,” but you feel it in everything he does.

With Oscar, love isn’t loud, it’s thoughtful, quiet, and constant. And in the way he looks after you, it says everything.

⤷Franco Colapinto

Franco is all about words.

He never says "I love you" directly.

Instead, it's mi cariño when you're feeling tired, princesa when you're all dressed up, mi vida when he's missing you. He speaks in these sweet Spanish nicknames that sound almost like poetry, even when he's joking around.

One day, you ask him why he uses so many. He smiles and gently brushes your cheek with his thumb. "Because one word isn’t enough," he says. "You deserve all of them." Each new nickname feels like a little gift, another way for him to show his love.

And in his words, you become everything sweet he can think of.

⤷Lando Norris

Lando is all about touch.

He doesn’t need words to show how he feels.

When he drives, one hand stays on the wheel while the other rests gently on your thigh. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at you but the pressure of his hand speaks for him. A quick squeeze at a stoplight, his thumb slowly tracing circles on your skin.

It’s a silent way of reassuring you, just being there, showing he cares. His fingers tap to the rhythm of the song playing, matching the steady beat of your heart.

It’s not loud or grand, just comforting. When Lando is with you, the simple touch is enough to make you feel loved.

⤷Ollie Bearman

Ollie is all about quality time.

He doesn’t do big gestures, but his affection is clear.

In a crowded room, his pinky will brush yours until he’s brave enough to hold your hand. His grip is soft, a little unsure, like he still can’t believe you’re his.

You look over and catch that smile, the one that’s only for you. It’s shy, a bit crooked, with eyes crinkling at the corners. No one else sees it. It’s a smile that says more than words ever could. With Ollie, love is quiet, bashful, and sweet.

It’s in the little things: fingertips brushing, shared looks, and smiles meant just for you.

⤷Isack Hadjar

Isack is all about humor.

His favorite sound in the world is your laugh, and he’ll do anything to hear it.

Bad puns, goofy impressions, exaggerating his French accent—whatever it takes to make you smile. When you laugh, really laugh, he looks at you with that soft, admiring gaze, like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

Sometimes, you catch him just watching you, a small, awed smile on his face, as if you’ve hung the stars yourself.

He doesn’t need to say “I love you”, he shows it with every joke and every laugh you share. With Isack, love is joy, and it’s all over his face.

⤷George Russell

George is all about gift-giving.

He doesn’t wait for special occasions.

One day, you’ll find a neatly wrapped box on your pillow, and inside, a dress in your favorite color. Another time, it’s a ring that matches the necklace he gave you last month. “Saw it and thought of you,” he’ll say, brushing it off casually.

But it’s always perfect. Always something you mentioned in passing. He listens, remembers everything. It’s not about money—it’s about the thought, the meaning.

His love is shown in gifts that say, I know you. I cherish you. With George, every surprise is a quiet, elegant declaration of love.

✿彡did you enjoy this? comments, likes, and reblogs are immensely appreciatedミ✿

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the-grimm-writer · 3 months ago

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Thinking about having a toxic relationship with your yan. Knowing that you should run away and never look back. But the way he makes you feel is something no other person can replicate, and he knows this.

It's addicting, the way he knows you so well. The small things that he knows will get to you. Remembering your favorite movie and show. Your go to take out order. Your guilty pleasures that he doesn't judge you for.

And he knows your body so well that he knows all the right buttons to push, how hard or slow to go for you to scream and cry with pleasure and make you come undone.

He's so close to being the perfect man for you. If he hadn't gotten so possessive over you before you became more than just friends with benefits. Or if he didn't hate when you showed attention to anyone else, even friends that you've been close to long before you even met him. Not to mention how pushy he gets for you to move in with him after just a few months of being together.

Because of that, fights with him were often. Why did you look at that guy at the store for too long? Who were you just texting? Let him see your phone. Why didn't you respond to him? Why do you have to leave? Just stay with him.

If you do leave or try and break things off, he uses all the excuses for you to come back. That he misses you. He can't live without you. Even just the classic you forgot something at his place.

You go back despite your friends begging you not to. Terrified that one day they'll see you on a missing person's poster and they'll never see you again.

Worst of all, you know they have a reason to worry.

You know the things he says during fights are true. He wants to lock you away and throw away the fucking key. He wants to bash any other person who even looks at you wrongs head in until they're an unrecognizable mess on the side of the road. That you belong to him. That he knows how he feels isn't healthy. He just loves you so much that he just doesn't care.

Then once you're done screaming at him, telling him that you're done, you hate him and never want to see him again. That all your friends and family were right about him, he grabs you and pulls you into an aggressive, passion filled kiss that always leads to your clothes being ripped off of you.

And after a night filled with rough hate sex, covered in marks and bruises, he gently pulls you into his arms. He kisses your cheek, softly apologizing for going too far. He buys you gifts the next day as well. Expensive jewelry and even the cute little plush that you've been wanting from the store.

He swears that he'll never do it again. Confesses that he just loves you so much that sometimes he can't help but snap. And you melt right into his sweet words, thinking that maybe it is okay for someone to love you the way he does when he makes you feel like the most special girl in the world even after hurting you.

When you tell him that you love him too, he knows he has you exactly where he wants you. Right by his side. Even if it winds up destroying you both.

BNHA: Keigo, Dabi, Natsuo, Aizawa, Kirishima

JJK: Choso, Geto, Gojo, Nanami

Tokyo Revengers: Mikey, Izana, Kazutora, Nahoya, Ran, Sanzu, Hanma

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undyingdecay · 1 month ago

Note

's a clichè but walker remarry with user and decides that their honeymoon is the right time to do some redemption(?)

(i go feral for a remarry troupe)

if someone had asked you two years ago why you divorced john walker, you would’ve said—without thinking—that he was too proud to love you properly.

he didn’t cheat. he didn’t hit you. it wasn’t that kind of story. but god, it hurt all the same. he buried himself in his job, in his title, in that fucking shield, until it felt like there was no room for anything else. every time you tried to reach him, to open the door he kept shut between you, he’d say he was fine. that it wasn’t important. that you should stop worrying so much.

but love doesn’t grow in silence.

so you left. and you didn’t look back. not right away, anyway.

and then he showed up at your door almost a year later, not in uniform, not with apologies rehearsed like excuses—but with his eyes bloodshot, fingers trembling, voice cracking (though he tries to hide it with a cough) as he said, “i still wear the ring.”

you fight back saying ‘i know’ because you do know, see it on tv all the time during his interviews, even with the familiar glint of the ring, the first thing that comes to mind is you don’t remember the last time you saw john cry—the last time he let you see him cry.

you told him you needed time. and time, for once, he gave you.

now here you are, two years after the divorce, lying beside him in the soft light of your honeymoon suite—your second honeymoon, technically. it’s quieter than the first. there’s no grand hotel, no press breathing down your neck. just the mountain air, a too-soft bed, and the way john is touching you like you’re something fragile.

you feel his hand trail along your side, pausing just below your belly button. you glance over your shoulder at him, still on your side, sheets tangled between your legs.

he’s watching your stomach like it’s holy.

you smirk sleepily and murmur, “already groping me?”

he lets out a small chuckle, but his hand doesn’t move. he just presses in a little tighter. “you do the same to me.”

“yeah,” you breathe, turning slightly toward him. “but you like it.”

his voice is quieter then. husky. “you know i do.”

and he does. god, he does. he loves being touched by you. watched by you. needed by you. it gets him drunk faster than any drink ever could.

but what he doesn’t say is this: it’s not just that he likes touching you. it’s that he wants to leave something behind. a mark. a legacy. a piece of himself in you so he can never be forgotten again. not like last time.

he doesn’t say that out loud. not yet.

but when you roll onto your back and let him kiss you, slow and deep, when you thread your fingers through his hair and he ruts against you with a breathy whimper in his throat—you feel it. how badly he wants it.

his hands shake a little when he undoes your robe. not from nerves, exactly. something closer to reverence. like he’s not sure he’s allowed this, even now, even after the vows have been said again, rings swapped a second time. you guide his hand between your legs, the warmth of it, the slight callouses making you gasp.

his pupils blow wide. he curls a finger inside you, slow, watching your face like it’s a compass. he’s always been physical, always good with his body—but tonight he doesn’t lead with ego. he leads with care. your moans feed something in him, your praise makes him shudder.

kisses you like he’s kneeling at an altar. like you’re a miracle, not a person. and when you reach for him—wrap your fingers around the thick, flushed weight of him through his boxers—he groans, almost bashful before pulling his fingers out of you and pulling his own boxers off.

he jerks himself with the hand you just slicked up with your arousal, pre-come already beading at the tip. his cock twitches when you reach down to help, wrapping your fingers around him, whispering that he’s doing good, that you’re proud of him. he ruts into your hand like he’s starving, forehead pressed to yours

“fuck—please—don’t tease,” he breathes. “i’ll cum in your hand if you do that.”

“it’s okay—you can let go.”

he shudders, but you feel the way his cock twitches against your palm. his hips shift without meaning to, grinding into your hand like he’s already on the edge. and when you push his boxers down, when you let him rut into your bare thigh with flushed cheeks and a trembling jaw, you realize just how badly he needs this.

how badly he needs you.

he doesn’t ask about a condom. and neither do you.

he lines himself up with hands that tremble only slightly and pushes inside—slow, deep, bare.

you gasp. your body stretches for him, pulls him in like it missed him. like it remembers him.

“you feel—fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, head dropping to your shoulder. “warm—soft—missed you so fucking much.”

his pace isn’t rough. not yet. it’s steady. drawn-out. he’s savoring every inch, every squeeze of your walls around him, every gasp that escapes your lips.

and then you feel it—his hand sliding back down your stomach. holding you there.

“john?” you ask softly, fingers brushing his jaw. “what’re you doing?”

he lifts his head. his face is flushed, pupils blown wide. there’s something pleading in his expression.

“wanna fill you up,” he murmurs, breath trembling. “want you carryin’ me.”

you blink, stunned for half a heartbeat. “john—”

“you don’t have to say anything,” he whispers, rutting deeper with a quiet whine. “just let me. just let me do this.”

your body clenches around him, and he gasps into your mouth. you kiss him. not because you’re sure. but because you love him. because you want him, even when he’s this open. this vulnerable. this reckless.

his thrusts get harder. more desperate. every time your walls tighten, he groans into your throat, forehead pressed to yours like he can’t bear to look away.

“gonna make you so full,” he whimpers. “gonna fuck a baby into you. say it—please, say you want it.”

you do. and you don’t. but you say it anyway.

“—love you, i love you so much.” you find yourself able to gasp out.

and that’s all it takes.

he cries out when he cums, hips jerking forward, balls slapping against you as he buries himself to the hilt. he doesn’t pull out. not even after the first wave passes. he stays inside you, twitching, panting, tears in his eyes.

his face is buried in your neck, body trembling with the aftershocks, cock still hard even as his cum begins to leak from your entrance. he won’t let go. not yet.

you stroke his back. whisper his name. kiss his temple.

and later—much later—you realize he’s still hard because he wants to go again.

not for pleasure.

for insurance.

because john walker wants to trap you. not with chains, not with guilt. but with life.

with the idea of a future you can’t walk away from again.

and you?

you just might let him.

#.ᐟ.ᐟ #john walker x reader #john walker smut #john walker #thunderbolts #marvel #new avengers #⤷ john walker

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aklaustaleteller · 3 months ago

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The Sweetest Heart

When Klaus ruins a good chat with a very sincere girl he's been obsessing over for some time now, he has some making up to do.

Warnings - slightly yandere!Klaus, if you squint, and a good ol' make-out session, which does lead tos omething more (no p in v!).

Word Count - 4.2k

Masterlist | Please reblog the work to share!

Long time no see, besties? I hope you didn't forget me!! I've been trying to get back into writing after a full month of practicals and exams, so this is indeed a word-vomit kind of fic (it is very fast paced!), hahah. I hope you'll be entertained regardless! <3

Klaus had had a long day. He felt like bashing his head against a wall or shoving his fist through someone's chest. But he did neither of those painful deeds and instead found himself headed to the Mystic Grill.

He decided to walk there at a rather slow pace, wanting to clear his head so that he'll be able to fully enjoy his drinks there.

The air was bitingly cold against wherever his skin was exposed, and it was so strong that it managed to sneak into and engulf him even inside his coat. But he didn't shiver, or even flinch – instead, he shut his eyes for a second or two, and tried to focus on what he could smell and feel.

Before he knew it, he could hear the low buzz of his destination – the frequent sounds of beer bottles clinking together, people talking each other's ears off after finally getting together after a while, and students trying to get a group project discussion done without having to repeat themselves five times because of the loud chatter.

He felt that he was smiling by the time he could smell the scent of ...well, alcohol and a variety of colognes. Some fried food and a lot of blood.

But when he walked through the door, and saw the true reason for his smile, he felt conscious enough to hide it or else seeming totally weird and out of it.

He bit his lip and walked over to the bar, mumbling his usual order to the tender before he sat on one of the stools. Slowly, he turned his neck to look behind him, and a gleaming smile found its way on his mouth when he realised that she had already been looking at him.

She'd been nodding to something her friend was saying, while looking at him. Klaus nodded lightly and slowly turned back around when she smiled back right away and turned away a little shyly.

Klaus' mind was usually always busy building strategies, making back up plans, being paranoid and trying to figure out who was betraying him. But for the past few weeks, she had taken up more than half of the space in his brain, and his heart had begun beating at a slightly faster rate – perhaps by a point five.

He had seen her hanging with Caroline and Bonnie, and quite often with Alaric Saltzman and Logan Fell. And each time that he'd approach any of her mates, she'd quickly back out and leave the space. Almost as if she didn't want to even be breathing the same air as him.

But all of the times that she was unaware of his looming presence, it was like she was the sweetest heart to be walking the earth.

So, perhaps she was afraid of him, Klaus had thought trying to come to a conclusion, remembering the sound of her escalated heart beats whenever he was around. But that wouldn't make sense as she had no reason to fear him, since as far as he knew, she didn't know anything about the inner-goings of her distant friend group.

Distant because he saw her with others more than he saw her with any of the Scooby-gang's members.

She'd be walking along with Caroline and Bonnie, and the moment she would see him around the corner, she would essentially scutter off. When he would interrupt her sessions with Alaric, she would scatter to gather her stuff and scurry off while making sure that she didn't brush against him as she passed him in the doorway.

And when he would crash her conversations with Logan at the bar, she would look quite pissed off, but still, she would be gone with the next gust of wind.

Sometimes Klaus’ wandering eyes would fixate on Y/n for a little too long and he would occasionally catch a boy gazing at her, or another one looking at her for a brief second before he would mutter something in his friend’s ear, something along the lines of, “she just needs to look at me once with a smile, and I’ll literally take her back to my house.”

He wasn’t sure then why his teeth would grit till he was pulled out of his rage by a hand on his shoulder, often of someone equally infuriating such as Damon or Alaric.

He would just be quite outraged that the one girl he had his eyes on, he had to share with a couple others. And it didn’t even make sense, because no one even knew that he was even aware of her presence, let alone the fact that he would often be searching for her in places he knew she must be present.

But maybe, it was her behaviour that had his interest piqued. He wanted to know many things about her, such as: why she avoided him, and why did he catch her hanging with the two older men so often. Maybe it was because he wanted her to be hanging out with him instead, maybe it was because he was curious and that was the most he had seen of her till date.

Since then, he had his eyes on her whenever she was around. And so far he had noticed a few other things such as, she only wore her prescribed glasses when she was alone, or attending a lecture, she had a sensitive skin that turned red if she rubbed it too harshly, and that she often read more than just one book at a time.

A couple days prior, three to be exact, he was disappointedly walking out of Alaric's class. He had been hoping to crash one of her sessions again. But she hadn't been there – Klaus had even made sure to check if it was the usual time that she was there. The colour pink had washed over his cheeks in embarrassment, and he'd turned into the hallway that led to the library, giving himself another chance and hoping he'd catch her there.

He opened the gate just slightly ajar, enough for him to peak his head through. And just as he had hoped, she was standing right there, looking like a deer caught in headlights with her big eyes in the dim lighting of the library.

Biting back a smile, he walked inside, closing the door behind him.

"Hi," he mumbled, walking forward with his hands in his coat's pockets.

She looked around her to ensure that he was asking her. Still, she pointed at herself and whispered, "me?"

Klaus chuckled, then nodded.

She waved back at him then, and, "hi," she smiled.

"Uh, I've seen you around a couple times actually, but never caught your name," he whispered, sticking his hand out.

"Y/n," she nodded with a small laugh before wrapping her hand around his' easily, and Klaus couldn't ignore just how soft and warm it was. Or maybe he'd felt that about her laughter, he wasn't sure.

"I'm Klaus, it's nice to finally meet you," he smiled. "It wouldn't have taken this long if you hadn't been avoiding me," he shrugged.

She looked at the ground, embarrassed. "I wasn't avoiding you," she mumbled, turning to put a book back on the shelf. "I'm sorry that that's what it looked like."

The smile was still playing around on her mouth, but this one was covered in hues of truth that she was holding back.

"Oh? My eyes must have been deceiving me every time you ran off when I came around," he pointed out, amused.

"Well, I don't know," she exclaimed, "you just make me nervous!"

Klaus looked at her incredulously. "You didn't even know my name until a few minutes ago, and you say that I made you nervous? That doesn't make any sense, now does it?"

"I know! But --" she hesitated, "I don't know," she deflated like a balloon.

Klaus sighed, shrugging. "I -- are you nervous right now?" He could hear very well that she was, but he still wanted to hear what she had to say.

"I mean, kind of?" She trailed off. "But not as much as you usually do!"

"Alright, baby steps, perhaps." He laughed, and then harder when she doubled over and put her hand on his arm for support.

"Wait, am I holding you back?" He quickly asked.

"I mean, yes you are, but it's fine," she shrugged. "I don't want to go to class anyways," she said, grinning.

"I didn't take you for a bad student," he feigned being shocked.

"I'm not! It's just, I've already covered what he's going to teach in class today," she smiled, embarrassed again.

"Is that why I see you around Alaric so often?" Klaus gasped. "Are you trying to leave you batchmates behind?"

Y/n laughed as if he was talking crap after taking five shots.

"Well, I'd rather put it as, I want to learn everything in my lifetime, and right now, it means I know what's written in most textbooks, more well than my peers do," she shrugged.

Klaus nodded, as if saying, 'sure, why not!'. "And what about Logan?"

"You have quite a wandering eye, don't you?" She teased him first, but when Klaus gave her a look, she sighed.

"Well, I've been wanting to know more about Journalism, especially the things that people don't really tell you at face value, you know? I'm just taking advantage of my situation and running after Logan after any new thing I learn."

Klaus could already tell that this was a busy girl, who liked to make each second of her day count. And suddenly, he felt bad for chatting to her without any preset intentions.

And then, Y/n checked her wristwatch.

"I ...have to go," she said, as if it was the most embarrassing thing she'd ever had to say in her entire life.

"Oh, okay, yeah, of course!" Klaus face palmed himself in his mind for stumbling over his words so hard.

She lingered, and then passed him a quick smile. And she'd just reached the door's handle when he cleared his throat instantly.

"Y/n!" She turned, and saw that one of his hands was in the air, almost as if reaching out to her.

"I was thinking maybe we could get some coffee? Or whatever you like to drink, and you know... I'd like to get to know you," he finished off quite shyly, and pinched himself for it from inside his coat's pocket.

"I'd love to," she replied loudly. She knew that there was no one other than them in the room right now. "Find me when you get the chance," she said before leaving.

And it had been a full week since their first and last true encounter – and Klaus was just now seeing her again.

He felt bad, realising that she might have felt as if he'd somehow played her. But he'd had to go back to New Orleans to solve a matter suddenly, and the moment he'd stepped foot back in Mystic Falls, he'd walked straight to the Grill.

Even when he was away, he'd felt the urge to look at her, at the very least. And that had been when he'd truly known that he needed to just make her his’.

"Don’t you think our drinks might have gone bad by now?" Klaus heard her say before he saw her, sliding onto the seat right beside him.

"Oh, I had to leave town for a little bit," Klaus immediately answered, brushing his nose. "Spontaneously too," he added, then gulped dryly.

She only nodded, before taking a sip of her coffee. The maroon colour on her lips was faint, like she had rubbed it to look more like a gradient, and he suddenly felt thirsty.

"Seems like you missed me," he shrugged with a smirk, looking at her from the corner of his eye as he took a gulp of his own drink.

She gasped, looking at him accusingly.

"No, I didn't!" She exclaimed, eyes wide.

"And who are you lying to, yourself or me?" Klaus raised a brow, placing his elbow on the bar and leaning his temple on his palm, looking at her with his full attention.

She had left the top two buttons of the cropped shirt open, and only because of the pendant that was leading his gaze further down, Klaus noticed the lace of her black bra peeking through. He was relieved to see that she didn’t notice, busy tucking her hair behind her ear.

"I- I'm not lying," she answered, caught a little off-guard. “I don’t care enough to lie,” she said, but without looking him in the eyes.

"Whatever you say," Klaus feigned nonchalance, and checked his wrist watch, hoping she'd say something that he could then tease her about.

But instead, he saw her sigh in his periphery.

"Okay," she mumbled, placing her empty glass on the bar and slid off the seat. Fixing the hem of her shirt, she walked back to her table, chewing the inside of her cheek.

Oh god, Klaus shouldn't have been so mean. He had forgotten just how gentle and sensitive her nature was. He face-palmed internally, mad that he had ruined such a good meeting.

Looking behind him with a deep frown, he was panicking how he could save the situation when he saw her hug all of her friends to her side, while fixing her tote on her other shoulder.

Her hair was tied in a neat bun, but wisps had still managed to escape. Gold hoops dangled from her ears, and his eyes travelled down the expanse of her neck.

Klaus blinked, and focused.

"I mean I do have to submit an essay tonight, and get some readings done before midnight," she spoke guiltily, curling in on herself under the upset gaze of the friends.

"I'm sorry, I'll make up soon," she pouted, letting a girl press a kiss on her cheek before she was rushing out of the bar, leaving behind a chatter and before Klaus could bury his face deep in his palms, the girls' eyes flashed to him for a brief second.

To be real, they weren't even close. Barely acquaintances, but for some reason, Klaus felt as though he was on the very edge of losing something ...exceptional. So he needed to do something, and do it quickly.

He had to reach her before she slammed the door on him. Finishing the last bit of his drink, he rushed back home, to ensure nothing would come up to interrupt him later in the night.

Klaus was well aware that Y/n lived with her parents, who truly loved her dearly. She was the only one so far who he had seen with a usual pair of parents, let alone with a close relationship with them as well. And he also knew that they would never expect their golden daughter to even be holding hands with a boy let alone being alone with a man in her room.

So he knew that he could shoot his shot tonight, and the both of them would come out the other side, uncaught.

When the crickets had begun chirping, and the moon was the only source of light, Klaus made his way to her house. From outside he saw that her room was still lit up, albeit a little dimly.

He climbed right up to her window, and was amazed to find her window open ajar, and the curtains that were usually covering it, were drawn just a little to the side – enough for him to peek inside. As the curtains bellowed because of the strong wind, Klaus felt as though he heard cello begin playing inside of his heart the moment he caught a glimpse of her.

But then he waited, and realised that the music was coming from her laptop instead. Leaning in a little bit more, he saw that she was sitting on the floor, swamped amongst papers with the end of a pen caught between her teeth.

As she was studying from a paper in front of her, and then shifting her attention back on her laptop to type something, Klaus felt the urge to free her bottom lip from where it was held by her canines.

Unable to control himself any longer, but still having the mind to not startle her, Klaus knocked on the window.

She looked up, still a little distracted because of her papers, but when she saw him sitting on her window sill, her eyes blew wide.

Her mouth dropped open but before she could’ve yelped, Klaus had his hand cupped in front of her mouth. “It’s me!” He whispered, his heart thudding as her round eyes stared back into his’.

Her breathing calmed, and she let her figure slump back down.

“Dear god, you scared the shit out of me,” she shook her head, eyes closed and her hand placed over her heart.

“Don’t use bad words,” he teased, finally sitting down on the floor with her.

He rested his back against the foot of her bed, and spread his legs in front of him, locking them at the ankles.

“Wh- what the hell are you even doing here? Isn’t this trespassing?” She asked, and then squinted her eyes. “Should I scream right now?”

Laughter escaped him before he could control it. “Why are you so sweet, my love?” He asked her, simply smiling now.

She looked a little offended.

“You can call it a trespass or a break in, if you want to. I think I’d call this apologising,” he shrugged.

A little puzzled, Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Apologising? …For?”

“For the way I spoke to you earlier,” he said, rolling his lips in. He needed to tread carefully here.

Realisation seemed to dawn upon her then, and she skipped the ad that had interrupted the cello music to buy herself some time. “Yeah about that, um,” she swallowed, embarrassment creeping in. “You don’t need to apologise for that, um, I think I overreacted a little.”

This answer gave him the confidence that it would be way easier to make her his’, than he had originally thought.

“No, I should’ve talked to you sweetly, that is what you deserve,” he started. “I was a twit for behaving like that, and I’m very sorry.”

At this point, her ears were burning red and she was chewing on the inside of her cheek again. “It’s okay, Klaus. I forgive you, really,” she smiled.

Silence overtook them for a while, and Klaus could sense her attention slipping back onto her papers. So he leaned in, and moved all of the papers aside.

Y/n gasped, beginning to protest when Klaus shushed her with his finger on her lips.

“I’d put them in an order,” she pouted, a small frown in between her brows. God she got upset and embarrassed way too easily, and each time Klaus felt like his heart was alive again.

Klaus trailed his finger down her chin, and then brought it back into his lap. “I don’t think I can hide this any longer, I uh,” he licked his lips, and took a small breath. “I really like you, Y/n.”

Her eyes widened, and gradually, a smile pulled the corners of her mouth upwards. “You do?” She asked while grinning, her excitement seeping into Klaus.

He began smiling too. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I really fucking do.”

Y/n buried her face into her hands. “Oh god, I cannot believe this.”

Klaus was grinning now, and he shifted close enough to take hold of her wrists to pull them away. “Look at me, love,” he said softly.

And Y/n did, her eyes shining like he had put stars in them and her face was so red he could feel warmth just by hovering his hands over her cheeks.

“Do you feel the same?” He asked, looking into her eyes, and when she nodded furiously, Klaus bit his lip.

“I really really like you as well, Klaus,” she giggled, and Klaus went back to lean against the bed.

He watched her for a few seconds, and she looked back into his eyes, her smile stretched from ear to ear.

“Come closer now, would you?” He said with a teasing lilt in his voice, and he grabbed her hand when she got up on her knees to move towards him.

And when she was sitting beside him, Klaus brushed the back of his hand against her cheek before cupping it in one hand. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, his voice raspier and quieter now that she was so close he could smell the cologne she had put on earlier in the evening.

Y/n nodded, eyes fluttering. “Please,” she told him softly, her breath just a little exhilarated

And overwhelmed by her answer, Klaus drew her in and smashed his mouth onto her. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and a rasp escaped his throat when Y/n placed a hand on his chest.

“God, you taste so good,” he muttered against her mouth to let her take a couple of breaths before he was kissing her again, his fingers entangled in her hair with his palm placed on the edge of her jaw.

Her hand travelled upwards, leaving goosebumps behind and travelled behind his neck to curl her fingers around the baby hairs on the nape of his neck.

He bit down on her bottom lip before pushing his tongue into her mouth, and a whimper escaped her mouth. She let him take control, and Klaus began exploring her mouth.

She backed away to catch her breath, but Klaus was quick to latch onto her neck. He left a trail of saliva along her jaw before marking spots on the span of her neck. She moaned, her breaths heavy and laced with want as Klaus sucked right above her collarbone.

“Straddle me, sweetheart,” Klaus grunted against her skin, a particular type of high coursing through his body as he pressed his nose further into her skin.

She did just as he said and the moment he felt her heat radiate onto his boner, he knew he was gone for the night.

“Klaus?” She called his name gently, and he looked up into her eyes right away.

“I- I’m a virgin,” she told him, her breath shaky.

“It’s okay sweetheart, we can go further another day, yes? Whenever you want to?” He told her, and she nodded so sweetly Klaus had to take a deep breath to ground himself.

“But can I just kiss you a little longer, my love?” He asked, eyes then trailing over the hickeys he had given her. He would really need to jerk himself off the moment he reached his home.

“Uh huh,” she mumbled, her voice cracking. “Please.”

“God, you love to beg, don’t you?” He chuckled, tracing her jaw. “I’ll give you what you want, sweet girl. Whatever you want,” he whispered, and this time Y/n was the one to start the kiss.

Their heads bobbed as they pressed themselves further into each other and it was only in a few seconds that Klaus felt movement against his crotch.

He stopped to look down, and saw Y/n’s hips falter to a stop. “Did I do something wrong?” She asked him worriedly.

“Were you grinding on me, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah, I think so,” she muttered, hands beginning to fiddle.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Klaus grunted before he drew her into a kiss again. And this time, one his hands remained tangled in her hair while the other one began to travel down her waist and on her hips.

Then he began to grind her onto him, and pushed himself up towards her clothed cunt. Slowly, he created a pace and it wasn’t long before she was increasing the pace herself.

Small whimpers and moans began to escape her as Klaus continued kissing her. He himself felt getting closer and he had just been thinking of holding himself back when he heard her say his name.

“Please, Klaus,” she whimpered again, and Klaus moved to press kisses and bites across her chest instead.

“Yes, my love?” He asked her, still drawing her stuttering hips into a pace.

“I think, I think I’m going to come,” she mumbled, and Klaus knew there was no stopping himself now.

“Yeah, sweet girl? Come for me then, make me happy,” he rasped before nipping above her other collarbone.

And right then, Y/n bit down on her bottom lip as her body began to shake. Stuttering against Klaus’ unforgiving pace, she fell into shambles on top of him. A lone tear slid out of one of her eyes, and Klaus eyes were glinting at this sight of her.

He freed her bottom lip, and kissed her harshly one last time before he felt the knot in his belly break loose. God, he had made a mess of himself in front of this angel girl, and still he kept moving her hips until the both of them had ridden their highs.

She pressed her face in his neck then, and wrapped her arms around his torso, still sitting on top of him.

“God, I really fucking like you,” she said meekly, clutching him a little tighter.

“I know my love,” Klaus smiled, brushing his hands through her hair, and inhaling the faint smell of vanilla. “I really like you as well, my love,” he said in a deep voice, and pressed a small kiss on her ear.

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lunarduty · 1 year ago

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𝙋𝙊𝙄𝙎𝙊𝙉𝙀𝘿 𝙏𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙐𝙀

☾ how the cod men eat pussy. 141 + ALEJANDRO + RUDY + GRAVES + FRANK X F!READER TAGS | nsfw. smut. oral (female receiving). female reader. WC | 1,029

JOHN PRICE is patient, methodical, and just a little bit sadistic - a recipe for a man who will eat you out slowly and thoroughly and string you along until he decides you deserve to cum. he’s relentless and a quick learner, and will go out of his way to learn every single way to wind you up and make you needy on his tongue. his sadism comes through when you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm - teasing you about cumming so quickly, but ultimately forcing you over with a quirk of his fingers because john can never deny you anything. he likes to watch you fall apart. takes a selfish pleasure in hearing his own name tumble from your lips.

GAZ eats you out like he’s starving. intent on satisfying his needs and yours. he’s usually pretty sweet and gentle about it - paying compliments whenever he can, telling you how pretty you sound, proud that you’re falling apart so fucking easily. gaz does have a habit of withdrawing just a little when things get intense and he’s really trying to make you cum. he takes his missions very seriously and would wholly focus on finding the right rhythm of tongue and fingers. moans alongside you when you finally cum, and he always watches when you do. for gaz, there’s very little else he loves than watching your body keen on his tongue.

SOAP knows his way around a pussy. pretty experienced, and yet, he loves the thrill of learning new tricks that make you breathe out his name like a prayer. he’s very touchy - kissing your thighs, gripping your hips, letting his breath waft over your clit without actually touching you. soap likes to wind you up for the sole purpose of making you desperate - he likes it when you rock up against his face. craving more of him and seeking out what you want and soap fully lets you ride his tongue, groaning out praise as you do so. he can get a little carried away, and you’ll probably have some bruises on your hips in the morning. definitely french kisses you afterwards, making it a point to let you know just how fucking good you taste.

GHOST has the tendency to get too serious when going down on you. he mainly just tries to give it his all, wanting you to enjoy yourself. he goes quiet in the beginning but it isn’t long until ghost fully lets his walls down. groaning against your pussy, cock throbbing in his pants when your thighs lock around his head, and he gets kinda pussy drunk. you can pull at his hair, suffocate him between your thighs, moan loud enough for the neighbors to hear - he doesn’t care. not when you’re finally cumming on his fingers and ghost can’t help but remember how good you feel around his cock so he’s pulling himself away from you before you fully finish cumming and he’s tugging his pants down and…

ALEJANDRO is always very eager to eat you out any time you let him. loves getting nasty with it and making a huge mess on whatever surface he put you on. sitting on his face and riding his tongue is probably his most favorite - he just thinks there’s something very hot about having his hands on your waist, controlling the way you grind down against his mouth. and when you get close, it’s like alejandro does, too - gets very vocal to match your moans and loves to dirty talk because it always winds you up even more and you always look the most beautiful when you’re cumming with a hint of bashfulness on your face. you’ll cum hard and quick and alejandro will just keep going.

RUDOLFO is slow and sweet, taking his time to kiss every inch of skin and make sure the mood is perfect before finally giving you his mouth. asks you frequently if you’re enjoying it and has a surprisingly potent praise kink - rudy works even better when you tell him exactly how good he’s making you feel and how much you want him to make you cum. he absolutely lives for the little things, like your fingers curling into his hair or the breathless version of his name or the light squeeze of your thighs against his ears. he very purposefully builds up your orgasm at a gradual pace before letting it hit all at once - rudy is so sweet, but he gets a sick sort of pleasure from making you cum so hard, you don’t even realize he’s kissing you until you can taste yourself on his tongue.

GRAVES likes to brag that he can make you cum in under three minutes and it’s even worse knowing that he absolutely can. he gets almost aggressive in the way he eats you out - barely allowing you a break, constantly turning the tables on you, never letting you predict his next move. physical contact can soften him up though. caress his hair and face and you can convince him to slow down for a little bit, allowing himself a chance to just watch you ride his fingers. but fuck, graves loves the way you look and taste and he’ll tell you about every single detail between flicks of his tongue. his arrogance can get annoying, but when he makes you cum until you’re going blind, and then asks if he should keep going, it’s easy to forgive.

FRANK WOODS will eat you out in any way you want him to, just as long as he can - he’s not fuckin’ picky. he’ll always be wearing a cocky little grin when he gets you so completely lost, and will say something to the effect of turning you stupid. can and has used his whole arm to hold you down when he was feeling particularly cruel and you’re bucking your hips desperately. this is usually the time frank likes to mix things up, just to keep you on your toes - using a hint of teeth, adding another finger, groaning loudly against your clit. and after your orgasm, he’ll just keep pumping his fingers until you have to physically pull him off you.

#call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod fanfic #john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rudolfo parra x reader #phillip graves x reader #frank woods x reader #call of duty smut

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enha-doodles · 1 year ago

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Heyya I love your works 💗💗 and I was wondering if u u could do Slytherin boys reacting to the reader being a muggleborn 🥹

Classic yk🕺🏻🕺🏻

SLYTHERIN GUY'S REACTION TO YOU BEING A MUGGLEBORN | ✧⁺。

Pairing : (Mattheo , Tom , Theodore , Lorenzo , Draco) x muggleborn!reader

Note : tysm bestie 🤪🤪✨ also that is such a classic request !!!

Warnings : mentions of fighting , toxicness in Tom's (I mean?)

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Yes , he's got this thing against Muggle-borns, but if it's you, he's willing to put on his big boy pants and overlook it. But don't you dare insult his girl's blood status, or else you'll witness a show even Voldemort himself would be proud of! Picture it: a bunch of Slytherin wannabes start spouting nonsense about you not being worthy of Mattheo because he's the Dark Lord's spawn, and well you're just a stupid mudblood.

That sets Mattheo off like a firecracker! He goes all Hulk mode, smashing and bashing until they're all groveling at his feet. "Stay in your fucking place, you piece of shit, or else you won't live to tell the tale of Voldemort's son representing the Dark Lord himself!" He's a total hotie in fight mode btw

TOM RIDDLE

Now, Tom's got issues. He's got this whole orphanage baggage weighing him down, but deep down, he's just a lovesick puppy because he never received any. Sure, he hates the whole blood status talk, but he loves you more than he hates it. And merlin, does he have a way of showing it! He'll dominate and control like it's his daily job, but common, it's all out of love, right? And if anyone dares to even look at you funny, bam! It's going to be a hex city, and guess whose the population ? them.

But if you try to disobey or disrespect him he won't hesitate to return to his true self , he'd grab your chin harshly and menacingly whisper, "You're just a filthy mudblood, know your place. Here, God isn't your lord. I am."

THEODORE NOTT

hmm, Theodore, the rebel with a cause. He's not like his father , nothing like him at all and he constantly wants to prove it , this is just one of those things that help him show you and others that he's different.He couldn't care less about blood status drama. Nope, if he loves you, he loves ALL of you, flaws and all.

He'd threaten everyone around that you're his girl and if anyone says anything to you or if they try to hurt you then they'd be found dead before they can say sorry . "Get this in your stupid ass head, you dick - you mess with her, you mess with me and remember I don't pull bunnies out of a hat ."

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

Lorenzo's like that curious cat who just can't resist poking his nose into everything. Muggle stuff? Fascinating! Like Theodore he wouldn't mind . He'd actually ask more about how it's there and all the technology intrigues him but he'd still be on about how magic is better . He would support you all the time and try to indulge in stuff to make you feel better .

Would threaten his friends to be mindful of their words around you because you're very dear to him and he wouldn't mind a punch to two if it means you're protected "Hey hey hey , watch it or I won't!"

DRACO MALFOY

Draco, return of the drama queen of Slytherin lmao . He'll start off all high and mighty, spouting hurtful things left, right, and center. But when reality hits and you stop talking to him , he realizes he's messed up, cue the banging at your door , sputtering out apologies and the gifts galore - rich boy lowkey buying his way out but you can't complain because he's got all your favourite stuff .

Draco would kinda joke to lighten the mood "God, I love you, but my father cannot hear about this." Classic Draco, am I right?

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　　　。

TAGLIST : @sugarcandydoll @helendeath

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tmnt-l0v3rrr · 11 months ago

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Punishments

Yan! Rottmnt x Reader Headcanons

Warnings!!

Kidnapping, loss of privacy, being watched, forced touch, unhealthy relationships, abuse, beatings, Obsession, shock collars, and overall yandere and unhealthy topics.

Raphael

Now, he really hates seeing you upset. But, part of him remembers that if you don't learn now you never will, he is an older brother after all.

His punishments aren't near the worst of the bunch. Raph's punishments are more inconvenient than anything, not being allowed to leave his room whatsoever, doing laps around the lair, are the minor ones, they do progress the worst of the action you do.

If you try to run away you lose all and any privacy you had. Zero time alone at all, it's suffocating.

It's time for you to shower? He's right outside the curtain the whole time, he isn't afraid to look in if he hears something out of the ordinary. Bathroom? He's looking away but you can even lose that. Changing? Unless it's undergarments his eyes aren't leaving you.

You aren't allowed to face the door when you two sleep, you're kept facing the wall cradled by Raph, he'll chain you to the bed if he has to.

In summary, privacy loss is one of his most used punishments. He'd never hit you, on purpose….

Leonardo

Now, he isn't super sure how to punish someone humanely… He just isn't sure on how else to get you to listen.

For the little things, like talking back or refusing to do a dumb activity with him, he can be cold or manipulative. He could spit something at you like “Really? All I want to do is love and spend time with you and all you ever do is ignore me or be ungrateful! All I want is to love you, let me love you, dear.”

He will also pinch you for small mistakes, like say you say something he doesn't exactly agree with, Leo will simply pinch, normally on the neck, it works, his pinches hurt like a bitch. Or he'll flick you, those also hurt.

He worries, alot, so if you try to run away?

He throws a fit, screaming, crying the whole ordeal. He will get to you, lock the door on his train car. Yell, so loud your ears ring. Screaming about how mad he is, how you should never do that and how dangerous it is.

In his fit of rage, it will likely get physical.

Maybe grabbing you by the collar… throwing you against the wall, screaming at you, he'll kick your legs and bash until they bleed and are bruised.

He didn't mean to, he is just too worried about you, he can't let you leave. No matter how much it hurts.

Donatello

By far he Is the worst, he knows what you did is wrong and won't feel bad, you did this to yourself. It was your choice.

Now, almost all of his punishments are with a shock collar he made, one like he made for Leo awhile ago, but it has different settings and is remote controlled. (He can also control it with his tech gauntlet) Based on what you do is how bad the shock will be, it is normally at a 2 for small mistakes. A quick zap is it.

Now, if you try to escape? That's where it gets bad. What were you thinking?

Once he finds you, you're in big trouble. The collar will go off, the highest setting. Over and over. You'll be lugged back to where you started being shocked and yelled at.

Like his blue coded brother, he isn't too sure how to be humane. Whatever he does, it's gonna leave a mark.

Mikey

He is somewhere along with Raph, he's more disappointed than anything when you mess up badly. He is rare to punish, he doesn't want to see you in pain or upset. It's just hard for him to see. It hurts.

For small mistakes he'll give you a small scolding and that's it. Nothing to scare you. He doesn't want to scare you anymore then he already has.

If you try to escape, he reminds himself that you're human, you're scared. Your world was torn apart by him. He had to be gentle.

He will take you back to the lair, tied up with his mystic chains, leaving no room to squirm. Along with his older brother, you'll lose privacy and with Mikey, you'll be treated like a helpless child.

You can't do anything alone or without help. It's truly embarrassing. You're not allowed to even brush your own hair. Pretty much everything is taken away from you. It sucks.

#tmnt x reader #donatello x reader #rottmnt #yandere donnie #yandere donnie x reader #tmnt fanfiction #yandere rottmnt #yandere leo #yandere raphael #yandere mikey

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souliebird · 1 year ago

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[[and then I met you || ch 22]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 4.3k

ao3 link

It takes you a little over an hour to get Minnie to go down for bed. Tomorrow is her birthday party and to say she is excited is an understatement. She was practically jumping off the walls and it took three different books, a bottle, and two lullabies to finally get her to drift off. You are thankful when she doesn’t sit up again and call for you after five minutes, because you have a lot to do.

You need to clean up the apartment and decorate, you need to prepare pancake batter for a princess style breakfast, you need to finish wrapping presents, and you need to set up the couch for Matt. He will be coming by after his Patrol so he can stay the night and Minnie can wake up to the surprise of him being there, which is the perfect way to start her celebratory weekend.

But before any of that, you need to go take a shower so you can have a proper breakdown.

When you were younger, you believed crying was a sign of weakness. Your parents had treated it as such, always dismissive if you cried. The reason had never mattered - shedding tears was pointless and for children, so you had learned to bottle everything up and push it all down until the act of crying physically hurt you. Only very recently did you accept that crying is healthy.

You still hate doing it, though, and the only way you have found to balance your shame and your need for that emotional release is to treat it like another task you need to accomplish.

You triple check your daughter is truly asleep before you close the door to the bathroom and start the water. You keep yourself composed as you strip and only once you are under the spray do you let the tears start to fall.

So much has happened in such a short time and your anxiety has been through the roof.

The first bill for your hospital stay arrived today and you have been too scared to open it. You are terrified to go back into medical debt - giving birth in the United States had drained a lot of your savings and you have built it back up. You know there are all sorts of hidden fees, and you are going to need to do so much work contacting the various billing offices to try to get prices down.

It isn’t even like you are fully recovered from being in the hospital in the first place. You only just finished your antibiotics last week and your ear still randomly throbs or rings.

But honestly, you don’t know if that is from being sick or almost having your head bashed in.

You thought you would be okay after the attack. You thought Minnie would be the one with problems - having nightmares and jumping at shadows - but after the first day of making sure you were okay, she’s been fine. You haven’t been.

You’ve been plagued with nightmares about hands around your neck. You’ve been jumping at shadows when you leave the apartment.

You keep constantly checking your locks and you debate ordering pepper spray.

You don’t know what to do.

You aren’t okay.

You don’t feel safe.

The only time you have felt secure is when Matt was there to hold you and remembering such only signals your brain to send a new wave of tears.

He confuses you in a way no one else ever has.

You have never met anyone who cares so much before. It is overwhelming how much he loves Hell’s Kitchen - enough so to become a vigilante to protect it - and it is overwhelming how much he loves Minnie. You thought only you could love her that much.

Seeing them together does things to your heart you don’t understand. You just want to watch them play and bond until the end of time. They smile and laugh, and it is the only time you ever feel Whole. You feel like everything is perfect when the three of you are together.

You don’t know what to make of that. You don’t trust yourself with it - you’ve never felt like that before and you are scared that if you think too hard about it, you’ll find a flaw and the feeling will be ruined.

You just want Matt to hold you while the two of you watch Minnie play and that isn’t an okay fantasy for you to have. You don’t have that type of relationship with him.

He is a naturally touchy person with a huge heart. You’ve seen him hug Karen and Foggy before and you know he has only ever wrapped his arms around you to comfort you.

And he wants to comfort you because you are the mother of his child. He wouldn’t be around if it weren’t for Minnie and that is something you need to remind yourself of.

Matt loves Minnie. Family is extremely important to him, and he has told you time and time again that he strives to be the best dad possible for her - so of course that means he needs to take care of you and make sure you have a positive relationship.

If you and Matt butt heads, that wouldn’t be what was best for Minnie.

You need to do what is best for Minnie.

Which means you need to stop crying and get to work.

You wipe at your tears until they start to slow, then wash your face while still under the spray. It takes a minute or two for you to fully calm down, but once you do, it is like the tap is turned off. Crying time is over, so you stop your shower and quickly dry off so you can get dressed.

You feel better, but in a kind of dull way. It is like all the pressures in your life have been turned down to something more manageable and you know you will be able to focus on your tasks without slipping into a panic attack.

The apartment is not nearly as dirty as you believed it to be. You have to straighten some things up and you take the time to wipe down all the flat surfaces, but after that, you start putting things up. There’s a pink and yellow Happy Birthday banner and you blow up a few inflatables you found shaped like flowers and stick them to the walls. You twirl streamers together to decorate the back of the couch and the dining chairs, and your favorite piece is the pink sparkle fringe to hang over the hallway entrance. It isn’t the most elaborate of set ups, but you know Minnie will love it and that is all that matters to you.

Once your living space is Birthday themed, you turn to the kitchen. You went shopping today to make sure you had everything needed for a spectacular breakfast. You found a recipe for extra fluffy pancakes, and it seems easy enough - it calls for letting the batter rest overnight and you particularly like that as it is one less thing to do in the morning while trying to handle a rowdy toddler.

It doesn’t take long to get everything prepped and before you know it, it has been close to two hours since you put Minnie down to sleep and you feel it is finally safe to bring her presents out of their hidey holes to be wrapped.

She has grown a bit since you last bought her clothes, so you got her a nice little haul, including a new princess dress for her to wear to the zoo. It has sparkles and tulle and the dress comes with a matching crown you just know she won’t want to take off. You are extremely proud of the find.

You didn’t just get her clothes, though. Minnie has been more and more interested in helping you cook, so you got her a little kitchen play set. It comes with pots and pans, knives, utensils, bowls, plates, and some fake food. You thought it would be fun to have her practice her skills - she’s a pro at helping you stir and mix, and she knows how to use a butter knife to cut up fruit. You hope she enjoys pretending to wash her dishes, so you lure you into helping into that part of cooking, but you don’t think anyone finds that chore fun.

Before you can start wrapping, you need to go through everything and remove all the tags and stickers. It is a boring activity that takes far too long, so you decide you are going to multitask while doing so. You grab your laptop and notebook and settle down among your pile of bags.

Since your talk with Matt about Daredevil, you have been in research mode. The first few nights, you read every article you could find about the Devil. You started with the reputable sources - purely focusing on news reports - and once you had a timeline of events down, you switched to opinion pieces. You quickly ended up sorting those into three categories - positive outlooks, negative outlooks, and outlooks written by Karen Page.

You took notes on everything - making pro and con lists on each major event and circling back to jot down questions you had. You felt insane - and frankly a little invasive - but it was how you processed things. You wanted it all laid out nicely in front of you so you could come to your own conclusions.

But to get to that final conclusion, you still have a lot of internet sleuthing to do, so you open up a new internet tab.

One of the most important things you want to know about Daredevil is how real people feel about him. Published articles are always biased - it is in their nature to be based purely on who produces them - but social media lets the mass in on the conversation. You learned that well after the Attack on New York.

You remember the majority of the news singing praise for the Avengers and how they saved the Earth - which you truly did appreciate - but no one came and spoke to the people whose lives had been ruined. Sure, they talked about how much destruction had happened and how much it would cost to rebuild, but no one had mentioned how Hell’s Kitchen and Chelsea had been almost flattened. No one cared about the low-cost homes that had been destroyed or the poor people crushed in debris - not when they could talk about the Big Bank buildings the Hulk had run through. Why talk about those genuinely affected when you could bring in a mouthpiece who was halfway across the world?

Iron Man didn’t give two shits about the people whose lives he saved. If he did, he’d help them in the aftermath, and he didn’t. None of the Heroes did - they started going around the world while an uncaring government was left to clean up the mess. Repairs went to the lowest bidder and many things were deemed too expensive and just left to crumble.

But only internet forums and ten second social media videos talked about that.

Matt talks so passionately about helping people in Hell’s Kitchen, so you need to know if it is real, or just all a puff piece.

You look first into the forums and to your surprise, there is a whole section for New York vigilantes. You resist the urge to dive into the threads about Spider-Man and the Hero of Harlem and you have to scroll to the bottom of the front page to find something about Daredevil.

It is CCTV footage of Daredevil chasing off what looks to be some teenagers trying to rob a pawn shop and there are a few dozen comments under it. You smile as you start to read them - the majority of it is praise for Matt, with the few negative comments being about the quality of footage.

And each thread you find about Daredevil is like that. You expected to see issues with excessive force like you saw in the opinion pieces, but there is nothing. People who you can tell are locals all comment about how he doesn’t hurt kids, and his punishments reflect the severity of the crime. Muggers get a few good swats while those who commit domestic violence are given as good as they gave. It is gang members and real dangers who end up in the hospital. There are about a handful of posts giving firsthand accounts of how the Devil helped them - ranging from them being in serious danger to Matt helping a drunk woman safely get a cab.

From what you can see, the people who post in this forum like the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen and genuinely feel safer with him around. The site is a little niche, though, so you switch to a more popular platform to see if you can find different opinions and different opinions you find.

Just not the ones you expected.

There is a new picture of the Devil that has gained traction in his tag that is rather good quality - Matt is squatting on a roof, seemingly observing a street, and is framed in such a way to show off his lower half. His thighs, which you know are all muscle, are highlighted wonderfully and the angle of the photo only emphasizes his backside. His upper back and shoulders are all in shadow, but you can tell just how broad they are.

Twitter absolutely loves the image, and you think you have to agree with them. You can feel your cheeks heating up and you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from the screen.

Matt is beyond physically attractive, and it is no wonder the internet is lusting after him. There is a litany of lewd comments from multiple people and one made by a user with a cartoon frog as their profile picture has your core twitching and you quickly hide your face in your hands.

“imagine him bending you over a rooftop and fucking you until all you can do is drool ♥”

You don’t want to think dirty thoughts about Matt. It makes you feel awkward and guilty but mostly they make you Want, and you desperately want to bat that away.

You very obviously have slept with him before and know what a good lover he is. You know what his skin feels like against yours and your mouth goes dry at the memory of how loudly he moaned while between your legs. His stamina is no joke, and you can only imagine it has improved since he’s started being a vigilante.

You have no doubt he could easily fuck someone stupid.

You tell yourself you can’t think like this - you are supposed to be researching Daredevil to figure out how you feel about Matt being a vigilante - not ogling pictures of his ass and remembering your night together.

You gently smack your cheeks a few times and tell yourself to focus.

That only serves to make you more flush, so you make the executive decision that you have had enough screen time for the night and slam shut your laptop.

You have removed all the tags from the clothes, and you only have a few UPC stickers to pull off fake food, so you hurry through those so you can get to actually wrapping presents and not thinking about what you saw.

It is easy for you to get quickly lost in this new activity. Your perfectionist nature has you needing to make sure every crease is even and crisp and that each present looks picturesque, and you can't do that while distracted. Your thoughts shift from the way Matt’s breath felt against your skin to how many gifts Minnie has and how each one needs to look unique.

You know Minnie is going to tear through them like a wildfire, but it is important to you to make sure love is poured into everything.

You never got that as a child. Your birthdays were practical affairs and more often than not your present was to go clothes shopping, so you didn’t get to unwrap things or have that grand surprise. You don’t want that for Minnie. You want her to feel like an absolute princess on her special day and if that means rewrapping the same present four times to make it perfect, then that is what you will do.

You are finalizing bow placements on the gift bags you had to use for odd shaped items when your phone vibrates with an alert.

For a split second you are confused - it is rather late, and you’ve muted most app notifications - but then you remember Matt is meant to be coming over.

You don’t know how it could have slipped your mind and embarrassment burns through you.

How are you going to face him after staring at a picture of his ass until your brain broke?

You hesitate to check your phone, but when you do, you obviously have a text from him saying he is on his way. You groan to yourself, wondering how you can save yourself from this awkward situation?

Maybe you can go to bed early. You aren’t at all tired - you usually are up for another few hours - but you have a long weekend ahead of you. You will need rest.

In your bed.

Where Matt will not be.

Because, for the first time in a while, he will be sleeping on the couch.

Which you still need to prepare.

You finish fussing with Minnie’s bounty of presents and set about arranging them up the Happy Birthday banner like it is a Christmas tree. You have to resist your urge to nitpick and instead turn your focus to cleaning up your mess. You hurriedly shove the pile of trash you made into a bag so you can toss it and your wrapping supplies are tucked into the back of the closet, where they will live until you need them again.

You do a quick once over to make sure everything is neat and birthday ready before you fetch your spare pillow and blanket.

You try to not feel guilty as you start making up the couch. You know it isn’t the most comfortable and Matt will probably be sore after doing God knows what all night, but you can’t offer him your bed again. There is no reason for him to be in your bed. As frantic as you are, you don’t need any comforting.

You just need to stop thinking.

But not in that way.

“Stop,” you hiss at yourself. “Stop being a slut. Pure thoughts. Have pure thoughts.”

Scolding yourself does not work as well as you mean it to and all you can do is pour your concentration into folding and refolding the blanket. You roll it up tight first like it is a sleeping bag, then you think that is stupid, so you fold it into a triangle. You realize that is trying way too hard, so into a square it goes.

The knock at the door startles you and to your credit, you don’t scream.

You do, however, bury your face into your hands again and take a deep breath. You are panicking over nothing. Everything is just fine. You are overthinking.

You mentally chant that mantra as you go to the door. You hesitate to open it, needing the extra moment to center yourself, and you are surprised you don’t automatically close it again at the sight of Matt.

His normal daytime attire is a suit, and he wears them like a model, but you much prefer him dressed down as he is now. He’s in a t-shirt and joggers, with a five o’clock shadow and fluffed up hair, and he looks devastatingly handsome. He looks friendly and soft, but everything is just tight enough to show off how toned he is.

Your body reacts exactly like it did to the picture, but this time you can’t hide.

So, you run instead.

“Come on in,” you practically squeak out before hurrying to get out of his way. He’s got a gym bag with him - probably to carry his clothes for tomorrow - and your entryway isn’t the largest. It makes sense for you to go back to the living room.

“Busy night?” He asks as he closes and locks the door, and you are completely thrown by the question. You must make a confused noise, because he follows up with, “You are out of breath, is everything okay?”

Your heart starts to beat hard in your chest and you can feel your entire body getting hot. Of course, he can tell what is going on with your body and you are nearly in full panic mode.

You need to get to bed and away from him.

You fail at keeping your composure by gesturing around the living room, “Yeah - um - just been busy. Decorating and stuff - it’s a big day tomorrow.”

“It is,” Matt agrees, a charming and boyish smile creeping onto his lips. You tell yourself he must be excited for Minnie’s birthday and that is why he is in such a nice mood.

“How was..how was your night?”

He hums at the question, moving to set his bag down by the couch, “It was relatively quiet. With school starting up again and the heat, the younger crowd isn’t out. I made a few laps but didn’t find anything worth going after.”

“So, there isn’t like…crime every night?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it all. You haven’t actually asked what a Patrol consists of, so you don’t know what the average one is like.

“Despite what everyone thinks, no. There’s a good number of nights where I just keep things tidy, but being out helps to deter people as well. Not every night is drug busts and gang wars.”

“That is good to know.” And it is - it helps to ease your anxiety that he is out there constantly boxing people. People say New York is crime ridden, but it is not nearly as bad as it is made out to be. It is all scare tactics and sensational news - like the Satanic Panic.

Matt hums again, then tilts his head back towards where you hung the birthday banner, “That is a lot of presents.”

His smile is still bright, and you have to duck your head and bite your lip to keep your mind in check. Your mouth, as always, is quick to quip, “I’m not telling you what is in them. It’s a surprise.”

“A surprise, huh?” He teases, before kneeling down by his bag and unzipping it. You can see colorful wrapping paper peeking through, and you instantly wonder what sort of gift is inside.

“A surprise,” you repeat. “It isn’t any fun if everyone knows what is inside before it is opened.”

“I’ll concede to that, even if it is tempting to peek.” As he says this he stands up, holding three different sized packages in his hands. They aren’t as pristinely wrapped as yours, but you can tell great care went into it and you wonder if Matt did it himself.

“Foggy said they will come over around noon,” he says like you aren’t on the verge of a crisis. “And Maggie was hoping we could stop by on the way to the park. I told her it would be up to you, but I know she has a few things for Minnie. We’re probably going to need to bring that wagon you got.”

The idea of so many people coming to your apartment for a party - especially a toddler’s birthday party - boggles your mind but your heart soars that so many people want to celebrate your daughter. You watch as he goes to add the gift pile and that confusing feeling swirls in your chest again, reminding you this is everything you ever wanted for Minnie. Matt being in your life means more people to love your daughter like she deserves.

“Okay,” you say because that is all your mind can produce. When Matt begins to stand again, you go into a panic thinking he might say something to start a conversation and blurt out, “I should get ready for bed.”

He turns to you, and you don’t know what to expect, but it is not for him to look bemused. He raises his eyebrows over his glasses and lets out a huff of a laugh, “It’s a big day tomorrow. You should get your rest.” He isn’t condescending or rude about it, but you can definitely hear the hint of teasing.

Your face burns as you nod and stupidly repeat, “It’s a big day.” You clear your throat to try and regain some composure and point towards the couch, “I, uh, left you out pillows and a blanket. The..uh..remote for the fan is on the coffee table. I readded the labels after Minnie tore them off.”

“Thank you,” he says with full sincerity, and you cannot take any more of his charm and muscular biceps.

“I’m going to go to bed now,” you tell him as you start to back up towards the bedroom. You know you should tell him about the fringe covering the hallway, but you just want to flee and hide under your covers until your brain stops all of its nonsense.

“Okay.”

As you finally let yourself turn away from Matt, he says your name just loud enough for you to barely hear it. You freeze in place, but it is like your blood is boiling inside you. You breathe out his name in response.

“Good night.”

((“I love you.”))

a/n: orz please take this offering of a chapter - my brain is not working up to standard.

Also - Tomorrow is a Big Day

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#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #and then i met you

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