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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 2 years ago

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Just Like That — h.joshua

» seventeen masterlist «

playlist: fever — enhypen; light a flame — seventeen; sexuality — taemin

➮ incubus!Joshua × f!reader

wc: 16k

summary: fantasizing about her handsome and sweet coworker has some unintended consequences for Y/N when an incubus shows up in her home after unintentionally summoning him with what she thought was just gibberish.

genres/themes/au: angst, one sided pining, smut; religious themes, supernatural themes, demonic themes; non idol au, demon au

warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem @salty-for-suga @devilsmatches @dmnspiit @simeonswhore @yangracha @atinypurr @aikyubi @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads @toxic-babexe @plutoneu @sunwoosbaby @lilramennoodle @deadgirlwalking3

seventeen taglist: @aikisbbq @drunk-on-dk @cixrosie @hoeforcheol @98-0603 @briannabk22 @vampiirose @plants-w0rld @dementedaly @generic-teez-127 @sweetlylemon unable to tag: @prestineaugstine @imwhoever @lunaryoongie

join my taglists: permanent | group

Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.

MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

a/n: this is just pure filth and I won't apologize lol I did this to torture the bestie. It was supposed to be a timestamps lol and it turned into 16k. Thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are always appreciated, and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

A huge thank you to @kpop-stories-21 & @anyamaris for sprinting with me back to back and essentially keeping me company while I worked on this 💕

Translation notes: Cur curritis is google translate latin for ‘why are you running?’ disclaimer: I do not know latin so this could be wildly inaccurate because it’s google translate. Likewise, Mortalem te interro- gavi is what I got for ‘i asked you a question, mortal.�� Again, I don’t know latin. I just used google translate. I’m not going for accuracy here lol. The incantation, Te invoco a profundus inferni is from Supernatural lol

smut warnings: unprotected sex (pls use protection), tentacles, dirty talk, praise, pet names (baby, doll, angel, slut, etc), marking (f receiving), spanking (f receiving) , spitting, choking (f receiving) , fingering (f receiving), slight somnophilia, rough sex, anal, double penetration, multiple orgasms (f receiving), creampie, breeding kink, big d!ck!Joshua being a menace to my sanity, dom!Shua, sub!Reader, and I think that's everything but of course, let me know if I missed something!

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Autumn was in the air. The mornings had become chilly, frosty dew covered grass crunching underfoot that gave way to cool days, the sun warming just enough but not burning. The scent of the holidays hung in the air as you noticed decor going up on your way to work in the mornings.

The only coffee shop in town had finally put up their fall menu and despite how much flack you got for it, you were excited that the pumpkin cakes and warm vanilla chai lattes with a sprinkle of cinnamon and Halloween themed foam designs were back. On your days off, you could enjoy a steaming mug, adoring the jack-o-lantern face staring back at you from atop your drink.

On days like today, you opted for the to-go version of your favorite vanilla latte, grabbing an americano as well as two slices of pumpkin cake, topped with chopped candied walnuts. The bell rang, the sound crystal clear as you exited the shop and headed down the sidewalk littered with fallen leaves in various shades of browns, oranges, and yellows.

Children hurried on by, on their way to school as you walked, rounding the corner and heading for the end of the block where the antique shop you worked at stood, the old brick building stood. It was a much older building than the ones that stood around it, the brick darker and more weatherworn.

You let out a sigh, breath hanging briefly in the cool air as you looked at the storefront. White and black striped awnings hung over the large windows, gold lettering adorning the glass in a curly script that read ‘Pandora’s Box’. You crossed the cobblestone street, heading for the old wooden door and pressed down on the handle. It turned under your hand and allowed you to enter the shop.

A soft bell rang out and immediately you could hear shuffling coming from the back of the shop.

“Sorry!” a voice called out. “We’re closed!” You ignored the voice as you moved around behind the front counter and set down both coffees and the paper bag with the pumpkin cake. You were taking off your coat when your coworker and owner of the voice appeared and glanced over at you.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, perking up and straightening his tan colored apron. You fought the urge to giggle as he walked over to the door and peered outside the window before turning the lock and looking over at you. “Thought I locked that when I came in,” he said as you removed your scarf and hung it up with your coat on the hook behind your seat.

“What’s this?” Joshua asked, looking down at the two coffees. You picked yours up and took a sip before picking the second one up and held it out for him. “You got me coffee?” he asked, taking the cup gently from you. “Hot americano, extra cream,” you answered, setting your cup down. “I also got us some-” you were interrupted by a sharp knocking at the window of the door.

Both you and Joshua turned to look and saw an older woman standing at the door. It was the elderly woman that lived out on Broome street. “Isn’t that the cat lady?” Joshua whispered, turning his head to look at you as he set his cup down. “Mrs. Briggs,” you reminded him.

Joshua moved to the door and unlocked it, opening the door and no doubt giving the grumpy old woman a pleasant smile. “How can I help you Mrs. Briggs?” he asked in his sweet voice. The old woman wore a very old fur coat that was a bit ratty, almost as if it hadn’t been taken proper care of.

Under the brown fur, she wore a mustard yellow turtleneck sweater with a long brown skirt that reached almost to her ankles. Under she had brown stockings and some brown low heels. She had all of her gray hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun complete with a yellow scrunchie. In her hands she carried a basket full of different knick knacks and trinkets.

“I need to drop these off,” she said in a gruff voice as she attempted to push past Joshua who blocked her path. She looked up at him, lips parted in a look of pure shock. “Who are you?” she demanded. Joshua gave her his famous smile. The one that had all the girls in the coffee shop swooning or the high school girls giggling as he passed by.

Joshua had only lived in this town for a few years now. He moved into the space above the shop which was owned by his aunt. His uncle had originally run the shop but after his uncle got sick and passed away, Joshua moved in to help his aunt out. He was only supposed to be in town for a short time but he decided to stay after a year.

Joshua smiled at Mrs. Briggs. “It’s Joshua, Mrs. Briggs,” he reminded her. She looked positively outraged. “Well where is Bill?” she demanded angrily. “Uncle Bill passed away three years ago, Miriam,” you said, moving from behind the counter and approaching the door.

Upon seeing you, Mrs. Briggs looked much calmer. “Y/N!” she said desperately. You sent a subtle wink Joshua’s way and took over, keeping the old woman at the door. “I need to drop this off. I can’t have it in the house anymore,” she said, holding out the basket. You nodded, looking down and back up.

“Okay, Miriam. Let me just get my pad of paper and we’ll take care of it,” you said, turning to grab the pad from the counter. In your momentary lapse, Mrs. Briggs had managed to push the door open. Joshua moved forward but you waved him off. “I got this,” you mouthed as the woman set her basket on the counter. Joshua nodded and started to head to the back when you called him back, holding out his coffee and the paper sack.

He took them from you and you told him you’d eat your pumpkin cake later.

It took all of ten minutes to check in all the items Mrs. Briggs had brought in and when you were done, you gently ushered her to the door and waved her off before shutting and locking the door. Joshua reappeared, peering around. “You think after three years, she’d know who I am,” he said, moving to lean on the counter as you finished adding the items to the store’s inventory.

“She’s got Alzheimer’s,” you said softly as you worked. Joshua said nothing, watching you write instead. When you finished the line you were on, he finally spoke. “Sorry,” he whispered. You glanced up as you capped the pen and smiled at him. “It’s okay,” you responded, setting the pen aside and flipping the page to a new sheet. “She’s a mean old lady, even before her diagnosis. Very pushy and rude,” you replied as you started to place the items back in the basket.

Joshua moved to help you. “Did she want the basket back?” he asked as you worked together. You shook your head. “No,” you said with a chuckle. “The only thing Mrs. Briggs has more than cats are baskets. I don’t think she’ll be missing this one.” You gave him a wink and made to grab the handles. He stopped you, taking the basket himself. “I got this,” he said and nodded towards the back.

“Your slice of pumpkin cake is in the back. I’ll finish opening up, you go eat.”

You smiled, thanking him before heading to the break room in the back. It wasn’t so much a room as it was an area blocked off. There was a small kitchenette with a mini fridge, microwave, and a sink. In the middle of the space was a small round table with three wooden chairs. Sitting on the table was the paper sack. You washed your hands quickly and took a seat, opening the bag.

The pumpkin cake was delicious as always and you savored each bite. As you were finishing it, Joshua’s voice rang out from the front. “I’m going to open the shop!” he called. You stuffed the last bite of cake in your mouth and got up, tossing the paper sack in the bin and washed your hands, chewing hastily as you dried your hands and hurried back to the front.

Joshua stood behind the counter and looked up as you approached. “You didn’t have to come up here,” he chuckled as you grabbed your own apron from under the counter and put it on. “I was finished anyway,” you replied, attempting to tie your apron strings. Joshua laughed softly and moved to stand behind you. “Here,” he said softly, taking the ties from you and carefully tying them.

“It’s a lot easier when you have help,” he said, his voice soft and breath hitting the back of your neck.

Your cheeks burned and you were thankful he couldn’t see the way you drew your bottom lip between your teeth or hear the way your heart hammered in your chest or feel the heat rush to your core.

“There,” he said simply and moved to grab the paper he’d been reading. “All set.”

You forced a smile, turning your head before moving to your usual spot behind the counter and taking a seat on the stool.

It wasn’t the first time you’d had this reaction to Joshua and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

You weren’t proud to admit it, but you’d had more than one fantasy about your coworker. It was his fault really for being so nice and polite and sweet. Not to mention incredibly handsome and when he pushed his sleeves up, exposing his forearms, you could feel your panties stick to you every time he did something so effortlessly.

It was no secret half the women in town found Joshua attractive and you were one of them. Unfortunately for you, he was your coworker and although Bill wasn’t around anymore, Joshua seemed to adhere to the strict no dating coworkers policy Bill had. Of course, Bill was married and he was usually the only one in the shop until you joined.

You weren’t in the habit of dating bosses so you never cared much about the policy but now it was driving you mad. Especially during the times it felt like Joshua was flirting with you though you never truly knew for sure if he was serious or just being playful. It was hard to tell with him.

The morning flew by after opening the shop. It wasn’t like you were busy. Most of the customers that came in only wanted to look around and very few ever bought anything. Sometimes you’d have town residents come by and drop off their old things. Most of your job was cashiering and inventory.

Joshua did most of the restoration work that came with old furniture as well as other physical tasks like carrying the larger items out to customers’ cars or moving large furniture items to make space for new items. When you weren't busy ringing someone up or filling out an inventory sheet, you’d find yourself watching Joshua work, admiring the way he lifted things with ease. He’d pushed up the sleeves of his cream colored sweater hours ago, exposing his forearms and the veins that peeked out whenever he exerted any force.

You tried not to make it obvious you were staring but sometimes he’d glance over and catch you, prompting you to turn your gaze back to the crossword puzzle you were absentmindedly filling out with bogus answers in pencil. When you looked away, you missed the way Joshua’s smile turned into more of a smirk. He knew you were watching him and he knew he had an effect on you to some extent.

But not the full extent.

He didn’t know how you sometimes thought about him late at night as you teased yourself with your fingers or how you imagined it was his fingers as you pushed them into your aching heat. He didn’t know it was him that you dreamed about riding or that you wondered how his cock tasted.

And he never would.

The sun had started to set when Joshua finally locked the front door. You stretched your arms above your head, letting out the tiniest of squeaks as he walked over. “You can head home,” he said, leaning against the counter, resting his palms against the surface.

“I can close up here,” he added. You shook your head. “It’s okay, you answered. “I don’t have any plans.” Joshua tilted his head, trying to hold back a smirk. “No exciting hot dates?” he asked as you opened the register. You snorted, shaking your head. “No,” you replied.

“Why not?” he asked as you started to count the bills in the till. You looked up to meet his gaze. You hadn’t expected him to ask you that. “Uh…” you trailed off as you stopped counting. “I guess I just haven’t met someone,” you answered. Joshua’s head tilted the opposite way at that.

“You haven’t?” he pressed. It seemed like he was trying to make a point but you weren’t sure what he expected you to say. You shook your head. “Well,” you continued. “Not anyone that’s available,” you added softly, turning your gaze back down to continue counting.

You finished counting the bills and moved onto the change as Joshua watched you. When you finished and wrote down the total, adding it to the records book, Joshua finally spoke. “How about we finish up here and then go get dinner,” he offered. You nearly tripped over your own feet as you turned away from the shelf where you stored the records book.

Turning to look at him, you found him already looking at you, a smile and expectant look.

“O-okay,” you said softly, mentally cursing yourself for stammering. Joshua smiled and turned away before heading to the back of the shop to make sure everything was locked up while you pulled out the profits from the register and placed them into a bank bag and headed for the back where you found Joshua grabbing the broom. “Here,” you said, holding out the bank bag.

He looked up as he separated the dustpan from the broom. He nodded towards the door that led upstairs. “Just set it up on the counter up there,” he said as he moved past you for the door back into the shop. “What?” you asked, turning as he stopped at the door. “Just put it on the kitchen counter up here,” he said with a smile. You glanced at the door to the stairs and then back at Joshua.

“You mean in your apartment?”

He nodded, the smile spreading. “Yeah,” he answered. “Here.” You watched as he reached into his pocket and fished out his keys before tossing them to you. “Just let yourself in.”

With that, he disappeared into the front and left you standing in the break area. Taking a deep breath, you turned to the door and took hold of the knob. ‘You got this Y/N,’ you told yourself. ‘It’s just his apartment.’

You turned the knob and pushed the door open. It creaked softly as you peered into the dimly lit hall. The bottom landing was small and immediately went into the staircase. You shut the door behind you and started up the stairs, each step creaking under foot.

At the top, you managed to pick out the right key and unlocked the door before pushing it open.

Whatever you’d been expecting, it was not this. You’d only ever seen this space once and it was a mostly empty space with a few furniture items stored up here. It was dusty, dark save for the large glass windows at the back of the space that looked out into a small courtyard that backed up to a wooded area. The space had been transformed into a functional studio apartment.

A kitchen had been installed, brown counters with white quartz tops lined the wall against the stairs. A kitchen island separated the kitchen space from the living space. Facing a brick wall was a comfortable looking sofa with a low table between it and a media stand where a large flatscreen stood.

You walked further into the apartment, shutting the door behind you as you continued to look around.

The media stand held numerous DVDs and knick knacks. A knitted blanket lay folded over the arm of the cream colored couch with warm brown accent pillows. On the coffee table sat a small mirrored tray with a gold rim. In the middle was a small tv remote and a couple candles.

Against the wall under the windows stood a side table running the length of one of the windows. It had doors with small brass knobs and most likely held an assortment of different things. ‘Probably storage,’ you told yourself as you turned away from the living room.

Behind the couch was a partition wall that didn’t reach the ceiling. It was made of bamboo and straight geometric shapes with a sheer material on one side to create a separate bedroom space.

The bed was a large king size, wooden frame with clawed feet. You recognized it as one of the pieces that had been stored up here before. Joshua must have cleaned and restored it because the last time you saw it, the wood was dull and coated with a thick layer of dust.

At the end of the bed was a small bench with a folded blanket and a space to sit. Oh either side of the bed were matching nightstands in matching wood to the bed frame. The bed linens were creams and browns, both neutral but cozy and inviting.

Next to the bedroom space at the end of the kitchen was a small folding door housing what you assumed was a pantry and next to that was another door which you could only assume led to a bathroom.

Between the bed and the bathroom stood a large armoire with double doors. It was another piece that you recognized being stored in the space and just like the bed frame, Joshua cleaned and restored it so it was almost unrecognizable.

Next to the armoire in the corner was a full length mirror leaning against the wall. The top was decorated with postcards and a few pictures. Before you had a chance to move closer and take a look, you heard the door behind you open and spun around to find Joshua entering the apartment.

The two of you stared at one another for a moment before he spoke. “I’m done downstairs,” he commented. “Thought you might have gotten lost,” he added with a smirk. You shook your head, still holding the bank bag. Joshua nodded towards it. “You gonna hold onto that?” he asked, amused when you quickly set it down on the kitchen island.

“Shall we then?” he asked, nodding towards the door. You nodded without another word and headed for the door quickly, much to his amusement. Joshua stopped you with his hand on your arm gently. You looked down at his hand and up to meet his gaze. He held out his other hand.

“Keys?” he asked simply. You dropped them in his hand and headed down the stairs as he chuckled to himself, closing the door and locking it before following you.

“Are you hungry?” he asked as you reached the landing. You nodded again. “Yeah,” you managed to say as he led the way into the front of the shop. “How does Italian sound?” he asked as you grabbed your things, pulling on your coat and scarf. You nodded, heading for the door as he followed.

“Italian sounds fine.”

Once the shop was locked up, the walk to the Italian restaurant didn’t take much time at all. It was a small place with only about 5 tables and a small bar. It was nestled between a bakery and butcher shop, all owned by the same family. Joshua held the door for you with a smile as you thanked him and stepped inside.

You’d been to this place maybe once or twice in the whole time you’d lived in this town. It had been owned by the same family for generations and was currently being run by the grandchildren of the original owner. A young girl at the host stand smiled as you entered the building.

“Just two?” she asked. Joshua nodded as she gathered the menus and silverware, rolled up into black cloth napkins. She tucked the menus and silverware into her arm and picked up a pen, jotting something down on a piece of paper on the host stand before smiling at the two of you. “Right this way!”

She led you to a smaller table in the corner meant for couples. All the tables were round, most seating about four patrons. There was a small room off the main dining area with a much larger table meant for bigger parties. Along the wall were smaller tables with two chairs each and at the back was the bar. A long window allowed a look into the kitchen where you could catch glimpses of workers passing by.

A door at the far corner opposite your table allowed workers in and out of the kitchen. You removed your coat, laying it across the back of your chair and sat down as Joshua did the same and the hostess set the menus and silverware down on the table. “What can I get you started to drink?” she asked as you both settled into your seats.

“Just water,” you answered, not in the mood for soda or coffee. Joshua smiled at the hostess as he glanced over the drink menu. “A glass of cabernet, please,” he said politely. He turned to look at you. “You sure you just want water?” he asked, tilting his head. You looked down at the menu, eyes scanning before finding something that sounded good. “I’ll just have a limoncello martini,” you said, looking up at the hostess who smiled and nodded. “I’ll go put those in and your server will be by soon,” she chirped.

“And I’ll still bring you that water,” she added with a wink your way before heading off.

You looked down at the menu, flipping it over to look at the entrees. The menu wasn’t huge but they had a lot of options to choose from. As your eyes scanned, you could feel eyes on you and glanced up through your lashes to find Joshua already doing the same. He glanced back down, a smirk tugging at his lips. You looked back down, trying to finalize your decision.

“I can’t choose,” you heard him say softly. “I’m stuck between the tuscan-grilled sirloin or the mezzaluna,” he added, glancing up to meet your gaze. “Well they have an option to do both,” you offered, looking over the combinations. “You could get a 7 oz sirloin and a half order of mezzaluna,” you read off the menu. “That way you don’t have to choose.”

Joshua nodded as he looked at the menu. “What are you getting?” he asked softly, looking up once more. “The chicken,” you answered, setting your menu down as the host returned, setting two glasses of water down. You thanked her and picked it up, taking a sip. “Which chicken?” Joshua asked as he lifted his own glass, keeping his eyes trained on you.

Before you could answer, the server arrived. She was around the same age as the hostess and looked like she could be an older sister. “Hey,” she said breathlessly and you could only assume she’d been running all over the restaurant, serving multiple tables. “Your drinks should be coming from the bar in just a moment,” she said as she pulled out a pad and a pen. “Would you like to start with an appetizer?” she asked, looking between the two of you.

Before you could say anything, Joshua answered.

I’d actually like to get an order of the cozze in bianco,” he said without even looking at the menu. “I’ve tried just about every other starter but I haven’t tried the mussels,” he added. The server smiled as she jotted that down. “They’re really good,” she answered. “I’m not just saying that cause I work here,” she continued. “They’re genuinely delicious. It’s my grandma’s recipe,” she added.

You looked up, intrigue written across your face. “You’re part of the family?” you asked. She nodded with a proud smile. “Fourth generation,” she clarified. “My great grandparents started the place. My grandparents just retired and now my uncle and dad are running the place,” she explained, pointing at two men behind the bar.

“My sister is one of the hosts,” she added, pointing to the host stand where the hostess who had seated you stood. “I thought you might be related,” you said with a triumphant smile. It felt good knowing your instincts were spot on. “Yeah!” the server said. “Anyway, I’ll get this in,” she said, tapping the pad with her pen. “Then I’ll grab your drinks and come back to take your meal order,” she added with a smile and an “I’ll be right back.”

Once she left, Joshua turned to look at you. “I guess it really is a family business,” he said with an amused tone. You nodded, uncertain of what to say. Silence fell over the two of you as you waited for the server to return. You glanced up from the menu to find Joshua reading over the list of wines. “So,” you said softly, drawing his attention away from the paper.

“You’ve been here a lot?” you asked. Joshua smiled, setting the wine list down. “Been here? Sort of,” he answered. “This place is right around the corner from the shop,” he started to explain as you took another sip of water. “It’s perfect for getting carryout,” he added. “I’ll just call and place an order and then come pick it up and take it home.”

You listened patiently as he explained. “I don’t go out much,” he continued. You tilted your head as he spoke. “How come?” Joshua looked up from the table, eyes meeting yours. “I don’t know many people,” he admitted softly. “So you just stay in your apartment?” you questioned.

He nodded slowly. “Sometimes I go visit my aunt but my cousin recently moved back in with her and we don’t exactly…” he trailed off, thinking of the right words. “Get along.” Before you could ask any more, the server returned with your drinks, setting the wine in front of Joshua and the cocktail in front of you.

“So,” she said with a smile as she pulled out her notepad and pen. “What can I get you?”

After ordering, your conversation with Joshua shifted to other things. You talked about what he did in his spare time, discussing his taste in movies, books, and more. It was the most you’d ever gotten the chance to speak to him but it was nice to learn more about the man you spent half your day with four days a week. You wanted to consider Joshua a friend and hoped he could do the same.

The food was amazing. The mussels were cooked to perfection and though you were never big on them, Joshua got you to try at least one and you were surprised by how good it was. Your meals arrived just as you were finishing the last of your appetizers.

His steak looked incredible and he’d asked for marsala sauce on top. Your chicken was juicy and tender and the lemon butter sauce was perfect. You were glad you decided to forgo the capers in the end. The portions were just right and you were left feeling full but not stuffed at the end.

As your server took your empty dishes, she asked if you had saved room for dessert. Joshua glanced at you. “We’ll look over the menu,” he said and she nodded, moving to take your empty plates away. Joshua looked over the dessert menu. “I don’t think I could any more,” you commented. “Not without hating myself afterwards.” Joshua snorted and handed the menu to you.

“We could always split something,” he offered.

You looked over the page, eyes scanning the sheet. There were staples like tiramisu and cannolis but there were also unique twists on traditional pieces like a cannoli cake. You spotted a chocolate cake as well as cheesecake. “I’m not sure,” you said softly, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth before handing the menu back. “You decide. I’m sure whatever you pick will be delicious,” you added.

Joshua looked over the menu as the server returned. “Made a decision?” she asked to which Joshua nodded. “One slice of the cannoli cake,” he answered, handing her the menu. “We’ll take it to go,” he added and she nodded, moving to put in the order and bring the check. You moved to open your bag but Joshua stopped you. “This is on me,” he said as he pulled out his wallet.

“No, it’s okay!” you said as you pulled your own wallet out. Joshua shook his head. “I insist,” he said more firmly. “I asked you to join me. It’s my treat,” he continued. Sensing you weren’t going to win this argument, you let him have his victory.

When the server returned with the check, Joshua immediately handed her his card and she walked away. While she was gone, you replaced your wallet in your bag and looked up to meet Joshua’s gaze. “Thank you,” you said softly. “For dinner.” Joshua returned the smile as the server returned with his card and the cannoli cake slice already bagged up.

Joshua signed the slip as the server smiled at you. “How was everything?” she asked.

“Oh it was amazing,” you answered as you finished your cocktail. “Better than I remembered,” you added. “Thank you so much,” Joshua said as he slipped a couple bills out of his wallet and tucked them behind the signed slip and handed them to the server. “The food and the service was incredible as always,” he added. The server thanked both of you before walking away.

Joshua stood up and grabbed his coat. You stood up quickly, gathering your things as he grabbed the togo bag and led the way to the door.

Outside, the sun had fully set behind the trees and the streetlamps outside had turned on. You pulled your coat on, noticing the chill that had set in. Joshua had already pulled his coat on and was watching as you slung your scarf around your neck. “Well, I should get home,” you said breathlessly.

Joshua gave you a peculiar look. “Don’t you want to come up and try this?” he asked, holding up the to-go bag. “We got it to split,” he reminded you.

Although your gut was telling you this was a bad idea, you agreed and followed Joshua down the sidewalk and around the corner. The shop loomed over the both of you in the darkness, only one dim streetlamp illuminating the space in front of it as Joshua reached the door and pulled out his keys.

He unlocked the door and stepped in, allowing you to enter after him. As he shut the door your eye fell on the basket on the counter. You were almost one hundred percent certain that hadn’t been there when you both left earlier. “Uh… what’s that?” you asked as Joshua closed and locked the door.

He looked to where you were pointing, setting the bag on the counter and moving to the basket.

“It almost looks like Mrs. Briggs basket,” he said as he grabbed the handle and pulled it towards him. “But the items are different.” You watched as he sifted through the items. “Could you uh…” he asked, turning to look at you. “I hate to ask since we’ve already closed up and it is pretty late, but could you inventory this for me?,” he continued.

“I really should learn how to do it myself.”

You nodded, moving around the counter to grab your pad and pen. You watched as he pulled each item out and set them on the counter. “None of these items are the same as the ones Mrs. Briggs brought earlier,” you said softly as you started to write down the items and the descriptions.

Your eyes fell onto a small statuette and you set your pen down before grabbing it and looking at it.

In the low light you could tell it was very old. It was a small animal statue. The material you couldn’t discern but it almost felt ceramic. It was a cute little calico kitty. You looked it over but couldn’t find any manufacturer or name. “Huh,” you huffed as you set it down, drawing Joshua’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. You looked up at him. “This little statue,” you replied, gesturing to the cat. Joshua picked it up and turned it to face him. “What about it?” he asked. You shrugged. “I don’t know actually,” you said softly. “It just caught my eye.”

Joshua glanced up at you and back to the figurine in his hand. He set it back down in front of you. “Tell you what,” he said softly. “You can have it.” You looked up from the notepad, eyes wide. “What? Really?” you asked. He nodded and shrugged. “It’s just a little cat figurine,” he added. “Keep it,” he said.

You thanked him and went back to finishing inventorying all the items. When you were done and the basket packed back up save for your little calico figure, you followed Joshua up to his apartment where he started to unpack the slice of cake. The two of you stood around the kitchen island. “Here,” Joshua said, handing you a fork and using his own to take a bite.

You watched as his eyes fluttered shut, sighing in contentment. “That’s really good,” he murmured, turning to find you watching him. “Try it,” he urged, pushing the plate towards you. You gently stabbed your fork into the cake and brought a piece up to your mouth, fully aware Joshua was watching you intently. It felt oddly intimate, having him watch you so keenly.

Once you tasted the cake, however, his interest in watching you was made clear.

“Wow,” you said through a mouthful of cake, covering your mouth with your hand and looking up to meet his gaze. “That’s really good!” Joshua smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I know!” he exclaimed, taking another bite. The two of you continued to take bites of the cake until there was one little piece left.

You held your hands up and moved to the kitchen sink, rinsing your fork and placing it with the other dishes. “I’m done!” you said as Joshua turned. “The last bite is yours though,” he said with a frown. You shook your head. “No,” you said softly. “I’m good. You can have it.”

Joshua shook his head, moving to stand beside you. “No,” he replied, holding the piece for you. “It’s yours.” You looked from the piece of cake up to his face. He was waiting patiently for you to take the bite and although your gut was telling you this was a bad idea, you took the plunge anyway.

His eyes never left your face as you pulled back, chewing and swallowing the last bite of cake. “Okay,” you said, looking up. “Now I’m-”

Your words were cut short by Joshua pulling you in, lips crashing against yours. You moaned into the kiss as his lips parted yours, tongue slipping into your mouth. All you tasted was cake and saliva. He’d abandoned the plate the second you accepted his advances, discarding it on the counter behind you as one hand moved to your hip, the other staying put on the back of your neck.

Joshua guided your body away from the sink and against the kitchen island. You groaned as the counter dug into your back, a sound that Joshua swallowed as he deepened the kiss. “Fuck,” you hissed as his lips left yours, trailing over your cheek and down the side of your neck.

Without warning, he pulled back, spinning you to face the rest of the room, pushing you against the counter as he grinded against you, allowing you to feel his hard cock. “You have no idea how crazy you drive me,” he growled, one arm wrapping around your chest and holding you against him as he rutted against you. You let out a feeble moan, hands moving up to grab his arm as your legs threatened to give out under you. “J-Joshua,” you whimpered.

Your voice must have snapped him back to reality and just as quickly as it started, Joshua pushed away from you, facing the sink and gripping the sides as he tried to control his breathing. “Oh my god,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.” You turned to face his back, hands on the counter behind you as you steadied yourself. “Wh-what just happened?” you panted.

Joshua shook his head and when he spoke again, his voice sounded strained. “I think you should go.”

Your brows knit together in confusion. Was he… kicking you out? After all that?

“What?” you whispered. Joshua raised his head but still didn’t turn to look at you.

“You should go home,” he said, his voice still strained. “This is wrong.”

You stared at the back of his head incredulously. He practically jumped you at the sink and almost bent you over the island of his kitchen and now he was backpedaling? You said nothing, instead grabbing your coat and scarf from the seat you left them on and headed for the door, yanking it open before stepping out onto the landing and slamming the door behind you.

Your footsteps were loud, echoing as you ran down the old wooden steps and into the back room of the shop.

Up front you reached the door in record time but stopped as something caught your eye. The little cat figurine was sitting on the counter, staring back at you. In a split second decision, you grabbed it. He had said you could keep it after all.

The bell rang softly as you exited the shop, slamming the door behind you and hurried down the sidewalk and around the corner. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath before continuing on.

It was late. Really late you noticed as you walked in the direction of your home. The shops and restaurants had all closed for the night and there wasn’t a soul to be found as you walked down the deserted street.

The shops to your left were all dark, only a couple with running lights on in the back of the shop. On the right side, across the street was the park. It covered a good portion of the town, stretching for several blocks. The park was home to the playground, a pond, a dog park, and lots of walking trails.

It was covered in trees and lots of shrubbery. It was a lovely place to walk and visit all year round but right now it felt menacing and looming. You tried not to focus on it as you continued down the path before you, clutching the cat statue tightly in your hands.

It didn’t take long for you to finally reach your home, ignoring the chilly breeze that followed as you let yourself in and shutting the door behind you. It was an older home, built back before the town grew up. It was a family home, one you inherited from your parents after their passing. It was a cute craftsman style home with four bedrooms. You’d closed off the bedrooms upstairs, taking up residence in the master bedroom on the main floor.

You locked the door, listening for the click of the lock as it engaged before finally settling and feeling relieved. You shrugged your coat off and pulled the scarf from around your neck, hanging both up by the door before kicking your shoes off and heading into the living area.

You set the cat statue on the kitchen counter and moved to your fridge to grab some water. You always kept a few bottles of water in the fridge. Turning as you uncapped the bottle and started to sip, you jumped slightly at the glowing eyes peering in at you from the back window.

Once you realized it was only a cat, you berated yourself for overreacting and downed some more water before moving to the bedroom but only after making sure the doors and windows were locked.

In the safety of your room, you drew the blinds and curtains, quickly undressing and pulling on your pajamas. Your bed was all but calling your name as you pulled back the covers and climbed in, settling under the comforter as the exhaustion of the day weighed down on you.

You fell into a deep slumber, one you didn’t even remember falling into.

Your alarm woke you up at 630 on the dot and you groaned, lifting your head to peek at the red numbers. You really did not want to get out of bed. Mostly because you were comfortable in your warm cocoon and because the events of last night were flooding back in and you weren’t sure if you could even face Joshua after that.

You knew staying in bed and wallowing in your misery wasn’t going to help so as much as you didn’t want to, you turned your alarm off, threw the covers off your body and started to pull yourself from the depths of your bed.

As you sat up, you grabbed your phone sitting on the nightstand beside your half empty bottle of water.

Unlocking the screen you found you had a text waiting for you. From Joshua.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you tapped on the icon to read what he had to say.

Joshua: hey, don’t worry about coming in today. The shop is closed for some repairs. You’ll still get paid so don’t worry about that either. I’ll see you Monday

Your stomach dropped into your lap as you read his messages. So he couldn’t face you either? You weren’t sure what kind of repairs the shop could need. There wasn’t anything you noticed in the last few days. You chose to avoid deciphering what he meant and instead to use the day to get things done.

As you got up and started your morning, you took a shower and changed into clean clothes, opting for a light caramel colored sweater and light denim jeans. You gathered up your dirty clothes and took them to the small laundry room off your kitchen, setting a load and going about the rest of the house, cleaning and putting things back where they belonged.

Time ticked by as you worked, stopping briefly to take a lunch break when you realized you were low on groceries. Deciding to swap your washed clothes over to the dryer first, you set out from the house, donning your cream colored long coat but forgoing the scarf. Today was much warmer than the previous day.

Your walk from your neighborhood to the market only took a couple minutes and you greeted the cashier at the front as you entered and grabbed a bright yellow shopping trolley. You wheeled your cart through the aisles, grabbing items from your list off the shelves and crossing them off as they landed in the basket. You had just turned into the cereal aisle when you stopped dead in your tracks.

Halfway down the aisle was Joshua. He was smiling as he handed a box from the top shelf to an elderly woman. You couldn’t see her face so you didn’t know which resident it was. You tried to back up and head for another aisle but in your haste, you bumped into the display next to you, knocking a few cans of beans off the shelves.

Joshua and the woman heard the commotion and looked in your direction. ‘Oh brilliant,’ you thought to yourself as you knelt down to pick up the stray cans that rolled across the tile. As you stood up, Joshua and the woman had parted ways and he was currently walking in your direction.

You turned away as he approached, setting up the cans and trying to mimic the display they’d been in before.

“Hey,” you heard Joshua say softly. You turned to face him, forcing a smile. “Hey,” you mimicked.

The two of you said nothing, instead standing awkwardly before one another, looking anywhere that wasn’t the other person. ‘Why is this so awkward? Why are you even still standing here? Just walk away!’ You cleared your throat and forced another smile, laughing awkwardly as you took the handle of your trolley. “Well, I gotta go,” you said, your voice much higher pitched than before.

Joshua’s eyebrows shot up as you started to turn your cart and push it past him. He was quick, grabbing your wrist and turning you to face him, backing you up against the shelf of canned beans. Your breath caught in your throat as Joshua looked at you, eyes studying your face.

You saw them briefly look down to your lips and back up. Finally he spoke.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what came over me.” you shook your head quickly. “It’s fine,” you squeaked. “Alcohol does that sometimes,” you added after clearing your throat. Joshua nodded, eyes still fixated on your lips as you spoke. “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you continued.

The shift in his expression was unmistakable but you couldn’t tell what emotion he was conveying. “It… doesn’t?” he asked softly. You shimmied out of his grip, straightening your coat as you heard voices enter the aisle you were currently standing in. “No,” you replied. “It doesn’t.”

Joshua opened his mouth to respond but you stopped him. “Don’t worry about it,” you added. “Let’s just forget it. I’ll see you on Monday.”

You didn’t let him speak as you hurried away, pushing your cart into the next aisle to finish your shopping. You were grateful he didn’t attempt to follow you and luckily you didn’t see him again, which allowed you to return to the cereal aisle and grab a box of your favorite brand.

After visiting the dairy section, you headed to the front to check out. The next stop was the butchershop where you grabbed your usual cuts of chicken, pork, and beef before heading home to stock your fridge as well as fold and put away your clean laundry.

The task took longer than you were expecting and by the time the last towel was neatly tucked and folded, you saw that it was getting close to dinner time. You sighed, glancing at your fridge upon realizing you hadn’t prepared anything you bought yet.

You got up and walked over to the fridge and opened the door, looking at the contents and settled on one of the flank steaks you’d bought earlier. You grabbed the package and pulled it from the fridge as well as a couple other items and started with rinsing the vegetables you selected.

As you set the items on the counter, the small kitten figure caught your eye. You’d yet to find it a home in your place and moved to pick it up. As you did, a small portion of the bottom fell off onto the counter with a soft clatter and you cursed under your breath. It seemed as if the statuette had a small seal on the bottom that had seemingly come loose.

You turned the figure upside down and your eye caught the end of something shoved into the tiny space inside the ceramic figure. You carefully removed what turned out to be a rolled up piece of paper and set the figure down to start unrolling the paper.

Blackish text written in what you could only assume was a dark red ink adorned one side of the paper. You weren’t sure what it said but you could tell it was a different language. Possibly latin. Your brows furrowed as you read the words in your head before trying to sound them out.

“Te invoco a profundus inferni,” you read off in what you could only assume was terrible latin. You studied the paper for a moment longer before shrugging and turning to your trash bin, crumbling up the paper and tossing it away.

‘Out of sight, out of mind.’

Once rinsed, you started to prepare the potatoes, slicing them thinly before adding them to a glass baking dish. You worked over the dish and the stove simultaneously, making a cream sauce to add to the potatoes before sprinkling some cheese and panko over the top and putting in the oven.

While that baked, you poured yourself a glass of wine and turned on some music on your phone. The bottle was a new one you picked up earlier. While sipping on the wine, you prepared the steak for cooking, seasoning both sides since you didn’t have time to marinate it.

Soft jazzy tunes floated through the air as you went about the kitchen, heating a skillet before adding the steak which started sizzling immediately. You sipped on some more wine as you waited to flip the steak over. Your mind wandered as you waited, wondering what Joshua was up to before you forced the thought out of your head.

‘Stop thinking about him!’

You continued to listen to the music as your steak cooked, sizzling again when you flipped it onto the uncooked side. Once the steak was cooked to your liking, you pulled it from the pan and set it aside to rest while you checked your potatoes and added the chopped veggies to the hot pan, drizzling them with some oil. It was something you learned from your mother.

Once you were sure your veggies were done, the timer for the oven went off and you made a plate for yourself, sitting down at the kitchen island to eat. You had a dining room but as you lived alone, you saw no point in using the table. You could just eat at the island instead.

Just as you were cutting into the steak, you heard the doorbell ring and turned to look at the front door which you could just see from your spot. You waited for a moment before it rang again and you got up quickly, moving to answer it.

Pushing the curtain covering the window beside the door aside, you peered out onto the front step but saw no one. You contemplated opening the door but decided against it and instead looked through the peephole.

Again, you saw no one standing on the other side.

You took a step back, staring at the door in confusion until your thoughts were interrupted by three sharp knocks. You stared at the door and moved quickly back to peer through the hole. Again, the front step was empty. You moved to peer through the curtain but still saw nothing. You turned the deadbolt and backed away from the door, staring at it for a few moments more.

When nothing happened, you turned to head back to the kitchen to finish your dinner.

Just as you crossed the threshold into the living room, three loud knocks rang out from the door, causing you to whip around and head back to the door. This time you unlocked and opened the wooden door, leaving the metal storm door securely closed and locked.

Outside, just as you suspected, was no one. The street was deserted as the sun set behind the trees, casting everything in a bluish glow. The twilight glow. You peered out at your front porch, looking from side to side but not opening the outside door.

Seeing no one, you stepped back and shut the door, locking it once more before stepping back and waiting to see if someone knocked again. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, you hadn’t seen anyone before so why would you see anyone this time?

As you were wondering, you heard something different. Loud, heavy footfalls on the steps outside, almost like someone stomping up the steps to your porch. Before you could move to throw open the door to confront the trickster, three loud pounds sounded at the door, the strength of it shaking the floor of your vestibule.

Your eyes widened, heart hammering in your chest as you backed away. Another three pounding slams sounded on the other side of your door. Followed by three more. You rushed to the door and as soon as your hand fell on the handle it all stopped.

You didn’t dare open the door this time. Instead, you made sure the front door was locked before going around the rest of the first floor to make sure all the doors and windows were secured and properly locked. When you were certain they were, you headed upstairs to check the windows and attic door.

Upon reaching the landing, you were horrified to see that the attic door was cracked open. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the door, unmoving. You felt a cold chill run up your spine. Although you couldn’t see anything, you knew someone was looking back at you from the darkness.

You watched in horror as the cracked attic door slowly shut on its own. You blew off your sweep of the second floor of your home before running downstairs and grabbing your phone to call the police. As you waited for the operator to pick up you felt a breeze and looked to see your back door was open.

‘I just locked that!’ You were certain you’d locked that before going upstairs. You’d even done the tug test on it. The line clicked and you were greeted with the sound of breathing.

“Hello?” you asked into the receiver frantically. When no one answered but the breathing started to turn into distorted voices and then a deep rumbling growl you hung up and dropped your phone onto the counter next to your plate.

The corners of your eyes burned as you wandered cautiously towards the open door. You peered out the door into the dark and in an instant, you could have sworn your heart stopped. Your breathing sped up as you tried in vain not to hyperventilate.

Standing outside your door, just beyond the reach of the back porch light was a dark figure. There were no distinguishing features, no eyes, nothing to tell you anything other than the fact that someone… or something, was standing outside your door.

Without thinking, you rushed the door and slammed it shut, turning the lock before backing away.

The shrill tone of your phone sounded out and you rushed to pick it up without checking the screen.

“Hello?” you all but shouted. “Ma’am this is [xxx]. We received a call from this number moments ago. Do you have an emergency?” relief flooded your body as you almost passed out from the stress.

“Yes!” you said quickly. “I think someone is in my attic,” you answered. No sooner than you said those words, you heard a loud crash from upstairs. “He might have left the attic and is in the house,” you whispered, your body starting to shake.

“Can you give me your address?” “It’s Y/N,” you said quickly before giving your address. The town was small and the police station wasn’t far from your home. You knew an officer would be by in no time. “Okay Y/N,” the dispatcher said. “I have two officers enroute. In the meantime, can you find a weapon and a place to hide?”

Your eyes landed on the huge knife you’d used to cut your steak earlier and grabbed it quickly. “I have a knife,” you announced softly to the dispatcher who commended you. “Now you need to find a place to hide. Can you do that?” he asked. You tiptoed softly towards your bedroom, keeping your eyes on the bottom of the stairs before finally reaching the threshold and closing your bedroom door.

You turned the lock and made for your closet, squeezing in and sliding the door shut.

“I’m in the closet in my bedroom,” you whispered to the dispatcher. “Where is your bedroom located?” he asked. “Ground floor, back of the house behind the kitchen,” you whispered back. “Please tell them to hurry!”

You listened as the sounds of slow heavy footsteps pounded across the floor above you, heading for the stairs. “I think they’re coming downstairs!” you hissed. “Okay, Y/N,” the dispatcher said calmly. “The officers are almost there. I’m going to stay on the line but you need to be quiet for me, can you do that?”

You nodded and hummed in the affirmative as the heavy steps made their way down the stairs, one step at a time. Each slam had you jumping. You were shaking as you listened, keeping the knife ready to lash out. To your horror, the steps started to walk through the first floor and sounded like they were making a beeline for your room.

You tried to control your breathing as the steps stopped just outside your bedroom door.

You waited for there to be banging or for the door to fly open but neither happened. Instead, there was a rapid knocking at your front door followed by the sound of the front door opening and a voice calling out “police!” you waited for the bedroom door to open and the closet door to slide aside as a light was shown in. “I found her,” the holder of the light said as you held up your hands.

The knife was taken from you and the officer helped you up. After they escorted you out of the house, one officer spoke while another two searched the house bottom to top, clearing each room and even going up into the attic. While the officers searched your home, you gave your statement to the officer who wrote down everything you said.

“And you’re sure you locked all the doors?” he asked, looking up from the notepad. You nodded again. “It’s just that when we arrived, both front doors were unlocked,” he explained. You stared at him blankly. “That’s not possible,” you replied. “I know I locked that door. Multiple times,” you explained.

“Someone was ringing and then kept knocking but each time I checked, there was no one there. I thought it was just kids getting into the Halloween spirit and being a nuisance. Until the pounding,” you continued. The officer narrowed his eyes. “Pounding?” he asked. You nodded as the two officers exited you home.

“Y-yeah,” you answered. “It started as light knocking but when I refused to open the door or come out onto the porch, it turned into pounding. I heard loud stomping up the steps but when I checked, I still saw nothing.”

The officer nodded as he jotted that down while one of the two officers came over.

“We found no sign of forced entry,” she started to explain. “We found a stack of boxes in the attic had fallen over. That was probably the loud crash you heard,” she continued. “Your back door was also unlocked.” Your jaw dropped. “I know I locked that!” you exclaimed. When I came downstairs to call you, the back door was open and when I walked over, I saw someone standing outside-”

“You saw someone outside?” the officer originally taking your statement asked. You nodded quickly as he started writing down more notes. “What did they look like?” You sighed heavily.

“I-I didn’t get a good look.”

Both officers exchanged looks as you rushed to explain further.

“They were standing just outside the light field,” you explained. “But they were tall. Maybe around 1.8 meters,” you explained. “Everything else was just black. There were no distinguishing features at all,” you added. The officers nodded. “Ma’am,” the woman started and you turned to her.

“We noticed an open bottle of wine in the fridge,” she stated and you knew where she was going. “I just opened it,” you explained. “I hadn’t even finished a glass yet,” you added. She nodded and the other officer quickly jotted that down as well.

“Well, other than the boxes in the attic,” she started. “There are no signs of anyone inside the home. Since the points of entry were unlocked, they must have gone out that way before we got here.”

You shook your head silently. “I heard them walk up to the bedroom but I never heard footsteps leave.”

The officers exchanged looks before the woman spoke again. “We’ll have a patrol car in the area for the night and if anything else happens, call us immediately,” she explained as she pulled a card out of a little pouch on her belt. “You can call me directly,” she added. “I’m on duty all night.”

The female officer walked you to your door where you thanked her and watched as both cars pulled away and headed down the street. A chilly breeze blew through the front porch followed by a distant flash of lightning and you quickly retreated inside, making sure your doors were locked before heading to the back door to do the same.

Once you were fully satisfied your doors were locked, you returned to the kitchen to clean up your dinner, putting the uneaten portions in a glass container and putting it in the fridge. You downed the rest of your wine and started to rinse your dishes, placing them in the dishwasher before turning off the lights and heading upstairs to make sure all the lights were off, windows closed and locked.

Before heading back down, you turned back to look at the attic door which was firmly shut. You headed down the steps carefully, turning off the light at the bottom landing before heading to your bedroom where you checked your windows.

Once you were sure everything was secure, you changed and got ready for bed.

Climbing under the covers, you weren’t sure if you’d be able to sleep but exhaustion took over and you were out within minutes of crawling into bed.

You were in the midst of a really good dream when you were startled awake by a loud crash and sudden burst of wind. Sitting up, you looked around the dark room and saw one of your windows had sprang open. ‘How the hell did that open?’

You threw the covers off your legs and got up, moving around the bed ro quickly shut the window, clicking your tongue as you stepped in a wet puddle on the wood floor.

The crash you had heard was thunder and a full blown storm was raging outside. You groaned and turned back towards the room as a flash of lightning illuminated the space causing you to stop in your tracks. In the corner by the door stood a tall, dark shadow.

Your heart hammered in your chest, beating almost up into your throat as it closed, your ability to scream being ripped from you. ‘No,’ you thought. ‘This can’t be happening.’

You glanced at the door but knew deep in your heart that you’d never make it to the door, not with the shadow standing right beside it. Maybe you could climb out the window? Damn! You should have left it open! If only you’d seen the shadow before closing the window!

As you weighed your options, a deep, gravelly voice spoke.

“C̸̫͕̿̀̎̈́̈ͅȗ̶̠̳͉̽ṟ̴͖͛̈́̂̓͠ ̶̞͈̈́̌̄̋͂c̵̪̱̆͂̃u̵̡̪̜̠̣͗͒ř̵̤̠͕͈̉r̵̺̙͙͍̦͂̐i̸͈̜͕͙͐́̑̾t̸̨̩͖̣͖̀̑i̵̯͖̼̓͌͛̑s̴̭̐̍̚̚͠ ?”

You stared at the shadow in the corner. Did… did it just speak?

Uncertain if you heard correctly, you waited for it to speak again, although you had no idea what it said.

“M̶̳̞͖̓ͅỏ̷̮̲̯̚r̴̭̹̈͋̀̎t̶͓̩̪̟̿̉̒́̅a̴͓͐̽͊l̸̲̰̯͛͛͠e̴̝͝m̵͕̱̾͋ ̸̫̩̾͜t̸̪͚͔͋e̴͕̠̘̖̅̍͊ ̶̝̞̌i̵̯̺̯̋̉̄ͅn̶̺̳͚̟̟̊́͆̀t̵̫͗̌̎̕͝e̸̗̋̚ṝ̴̺͇̉͗͗͠r̸̺̭̫͈̖̅̉o̷̟͙̥̱͗͌-̴̮̇ ̷͓́g̷̰̪͋͛̕͝ā̸̙͊̍v̴̭̙̜͋̾̊̚i̶̦̟͌͋̈́͛ .”

Your lips parted as it addressed you, still in the same language.

“I-I don’t understand,” you whispered. The shadow didn’t move but instead, in the same gravelly voice it spoke again, this time in English. “I asked you why you keep running away from me.”

Your stomach nearly fell out of your ass. Whatever this was, it was sentient. “Wh-who are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The shadow figure chuckled. Actually fucking chuckled. The sound was distorted and unsettling.

“I am Tarrunach,” it answered. Your brain tried to wrap around the name. It was unlike anything you’d heard before. “T-Tarrunach?” you repeated. The figure said nothing and stayed perfectly still, another flash of lightning illuminating the room but still the shadow stayed black, a stark contrast with its surroundings.

“What do you want?” you asked softly, shifting your weight as your hand slowly reached behind you for the window latch. The shadow figure tilted its head before speaking in its rough voice.

“You summoned me.”

Your eyebrows shot up. ‘Summoned?’

You shook your head, halting your movements. “N-no I didn’t,” you answered. There was another flash of light and a clap of thunder. As soon as darkness returned to the room, the shadow figure shifted. Eyes appeared and it took all your willpower not to scream in terror at the sight of glowing red eyes.

“Is that the game you want to play?” it asked, voice scratchy and low. “You summoned me. Do you not remember the incantation?”

As you opened your mouth to say no, a memory played in your head, almost like a movie reel. The cat figure with the roll of paper inside. The strange words written in dark red ink.

‘Te invoco a profundus inferni,’ Your eyes widened as the realization hit you.

You knew it was latin but you didn’t know latin. Had you…

Had you accidentally summoned a demon?

You looked back up and noticed the shadow figure had moved and was now standing in front of the door. You leaned back against the window, fingers searching for the latch to open them.

“I-” you trailed off. “I didn’t know that was an incantation,” you admitted. “I thought it was gibberish.”

The figure laughed again. “Are you in the practice of reciting gibberish often?”

You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “Not particularly. I don’t see gibberish very often.”

You were stalling but the figure was moving closer. The flat black shadowy figure had taken on a more corporeal look, instead of blurry appendages, you could make out a curve in the arms by its side. Your fingers brushed against the latch but didn’t manage to catch on.

Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, throwing your room in a cast of bright white allowing you to see the figure in full. Your eyes widened, a scream forming in your throat.

Before you stood a blackened figure. The skin looked almost charred. The red eyes looked back at you from a charred face, the lips pulled back into a menacing smile with rows of sharp teeth. The figure was slim and androgynous in appearance. You saw nothing that would distinguish it as either sexually male or female. It was like one of the Ken dolls you’d had as a child.

Before the scream building in your throat could escape, your fingers managed to grab hold of the window latch and you pulled, opening the window. Instantly the wind blew in, the sound of rain intensifying and blowing into the open space. You tried to turn and climb out the window but the figure moved at an impossible speed.

The window was shut, all wind gone as the figure slammed you against the wall beside the window, hand closed around your throat. “This isn’t a game,” it growled in your face, breath hot against your skin. “You summoned me, whether intentional or not,” it hissed. “And I’ve come to collect.”

‘Collect?’

Fear filled your senses, spreading throughout your body and to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“C-collect?” you gasped, clawing at the hand around your neck. “Yes,” the figure snapped. Without warning, it tossed you onto the bed easily and was on top of you as you bounced on the mattress.

“C-collect what?” you coughed. “My soul?”

The demon tilted its head again only this time much faster, so fast you barely registered it except for the cracking sound that accompanied it. “I don’t want your soul,” it growled. You winced as it leaned in, sniffing your cheek before you felt its warm, wet tongue lick a stripe up the side of your face. You tried to push it away but the demon was much stronger.

“You can’t fight me off,” he laughed cruelly.

You felt your throat close up, tears burning at the corners of your eyes as the monster pinned you against the bed. “Please,” you whimpered. “What do you want from me?”

The demon chuckled again, the sound just as jarring. “I want your energy,” it answered.

You turned your face to look up at it in the dark, it’s red eyes boring into yours. “Energ-gy?”

“Your sexual energy,” it added. Your stomach churned at the thought. ‘No way. Absolutely not.’

You shook your head in agreement with your thoughts. “No,” you said defiantly.

The demon laughed, caging you in with its arms against the mattress. “I figured you’d say that,” it said, taking your face in its clawed hand. You stared up, raw fear pumping in your veins as your eyes met. You watched in both shock and horror as the charred skin of the demon melted away to reveal an all too familiar face.

You managed to push the demon off you and scramble off the bed towards the window as the demon stood up. You cowered away, your back up against the wall. “J-Joshua?”

The figure standing in your bedroom smiled at you, flashing a pair of perfect teeth. “Wh-what the hell?”

The demon started to pace back and forth, keeping its eyes trained on you. “What do you think?” it asked. “Looks just like him, right?” You stared in awe. “Or would you believe me if I told you I am Joshua?”

You shook your head quickly. “That’s not possible,” you croaked, your voice hoarse. the demon laughed and instead of the cruel, jarring sound, it was Joshua’s laugh. The one you’d heard countless times in Pandora’s Box as you told him a joke. The smile was the same one he gave you when he caught you staring at him from across the shop.

The same knowing smirk.

You shook your head again. “You’re not Joshua,” you answered. “You’re just messing with me!”

The demon tilted its head again. “That’s where you’re wrong,” it said in a low, menacing tone.

“Let me show you something,” it said, raising one hand and with a snap of its fingers, the lamps in your room came on. You looked around quickly before your eyes landed back on the demon.

“Is that it?” you asked. “I thought you were going to like, snap us to the shop or something,” you added.

The demon’s smile fell and its eyes narrowed.

“You want to go to the shop?” it asked. You nodded. “That’s where he lives,” you said. “The real Joshua!”

The demon sighed and rolled its eyes before standing up straight. “Get dressed,” it said, moving towards the door. You hesitated as it opened the bedroom door. Sensing you weren’t going to move, the demon stopped. “Get dressed,” it ordered again. “I’ll prove it to you.”

You pulled on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before heading out of your bedroom. It was surreal to see the demon masquerading as Joshua in your living room. You slowed to a stop as it walked around, looking around your house. “Nice place,” it said with a smirk. “How come you’ve never invited me here before?” he asked with a mocking tone. You narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

Taking that as a cue you weren’t going to talk, the demon led the way to the door. “Shoes,” it said as it unlocked the deadbolt and looked at you. “We’re going to the shop.”

The walk down the deserted streets at night was eerie enough but the fact that a demon masquerading as your coworker was walking beside you as if nothing was wrong made it even more uncanny. The walk to the shop took no time at all and soon, you were walking up to the front door.

The demon produced a set identical to Joshua’s keys and unlocked the door. You led the way to the back where the door leading up to the steps was already open. You hurried up the steps to the top landing but before you could knock, the door opened and you fell into Joshua’s arms.

“Close the door!” you gasped, scrambling to shut the door behind you and lock it.

You looked up into the concerned brown eyes of your coworker. “Y/N,what’s wrong?” he asked. “It’s the middle of the night and it’s storming.” You glanced down to find your clothes were indeed wet but on your walk, you didn’t remember it raining. Though you did remember it raining when you were back in your bedroom.

“Here,” Joshua said, letting go of you and heading to the wardrobe that stood between the bathroom and the nightstand. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

You followed him, glancing around quickly. Nothing seemed out of place in the apartment. Joshua pulled out some clothes, holding up the large tee shirt. “This should fit,” he said softly. “It’s not my size.” He pulled out a pair or shorts as well, holding them up to inspect.

Once he’d found something that might fit, he handed them to you and directed you to the bathroom where you changed quickly. Out in the other room, Joshua was heating up a pot of water. He looked up as you approached. “Let me throw these in the dryer,” he offered, taking your clothes from you.

Once he put them in the dryer and poured you a hot cup of tea, you sat at the kitchen island, trying to come up with an explanation as to why you were there. What reason could you possibly have for coming to his place in the middle of the night.

‘I accidentally summoned a demon that wants to collect my sexual energy and it looks just like you.’

He’d call the cops faster than you could finish getting the words out.

Frustrated, you lowered your head and fought the urge to cry, your shoulders shaking. Joshua rounded the island and sat next to you, placing an arm around your shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.” You turned to face him, startling him.

“No one is safe,” you said softly. Joshua’s eyes searched your face. “What?” he said quietly.

“There’s…” your voice quivered as you hesitated. “There’s a demon.”

As soon as the words left your lips, the serious look on Joshua’s face morphed into a smile. “Oh Y/N, please,” he scoffed. “You know, you really are something,” he said, getting to his feet. You watched as he walked back around to his empty cup and moved to put it in the sink.

You got up and ran over to him. “Please, Joshua,” you pleaded. “I’m not messing around!”

When he didn’t respond, you tried to grab his hand. The moment your skin touched his you jerked back with a yelp. Almost like you’d been burned. ‘What the…’

You looked up from his hand to his profile. He slowly turned his head, eyes boring into yours. The brown eyes you’d looked into before were replaced with yellow irises, the sclera no longer white but red. The same eyes you’d seen in your bedroom. Your heart sank as Joshua slowly advanced on you.

“No,” you whimpered, a soft sob escaping you. You tried to run but the demon was quick, grabbing your arm and dragging you over to the counter, trapping you between its body and the kitchen island. “Stop!” you screamed, pushing against its hard chest. “Let me go!”

“I told you,” it said in the voice of Joshua. “I told you I am Joshua.”

You shook your head. “It’s not possible,” you sobbed, tears falling down your cheeks.

The demon took your face in both its hands gently. “I wasn’t lying. I am Joshua. Joshua is me.”

You glanced up to meet the fiery gaze once more. Behind the yellow and red eyes was a sincerity you hadn’t expected to see. The demon wasn’t trying to trick you. “H-how?” you hiccuped.

“How what?” he asked. “Did you not find it odd that I seemingly haunted every dream and waking thought of yours?” he asked. “Or how Mrs. Briggs didn’t recognize me?” You looked up at him. “Are you even related to Bill?” you asked softly. Joshua chuckled and shook his head. “Bill doesn’t have any siblings,” he answered.

“Why are you here?” you asked suddenly. “In this town. Why are you here?”

Joshua tilted his head. “Do you remember the night Bill passed away?” he asked, nodding when you shook your head. “It was a couple days before Halloween,” Joshua started to explain. “A couple of teenagers were out at the old covered bridge messing around with a ouija board.”

You listened as he told the story of the teens and how they inadvertently summoned him, bringing him to the town. That night, after they summoned the demon, they ran, leaving behind the Ouija board. Bill was driving home from the shop and had to cross that old wooden bridge.

As he started to cross, Joshua explained how he appeared, causing Bill to swerve and plow through the side of the bridge and down into the ditch below. It wasn’t full but because there had been a lot of rain the past few nights, the ditch had been flooded more than usual and because Bill’s car landed upside down, he drowned.

As Joshua finished his tale, you covered your mouth in shock.

“And that little figure you took home,” he continued. “Why would I give you a random gift like that?” he asked. “I wanted you to have it. I wanted you to find the incantation. I wanted you to say it, knowing you were curious and had a proclivity for reading out random words you see,” he added.

Everything he was saying so far added up. Your dreams about him, your fantasies, your attraction, everything was caused by him. “Why did you need an incantation?” you asked suddenly, looking up to meet his gaze. “I wanted you before that.”

Joshua shook his head. “I’m a demon,” he explained. “I have rules and rituals to abide by.”

The realization dawned on you.

“That’s why you stopped the other night,” you said softly as it all fell into place. “Because you can’t just have sex with whoever you want?” Joshua nodded. “There has to be a binding incantation,” he explained. “Which is what you read off tonight.”

You swallowed thickly. “Which means…”

You felt one of his hands moved to your hip. “Which means, we have to have sex,” you continued.

Joshua nodded, leaning in and nuzzling your cheek. “Exactly,” he said in a low, husky voice. “But if we have sex,” you said suddenly, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back. “Doesn’t that mean you have to leave?”

Joshua tilted his head questioningly. “Why would I leave?” he asked softly.

“When I have a shop to run.”

Without letting you say another word, Joshua took your lips in a searing kiss, his free hand moving up your back and pulling you into him. “I said that incantation binds me to you,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your skin. “I never said anything about having to leave. I’m bound to you now.”

Your knees almost buckled as you felt his teeth graze against the skin of your neck. “I’m yours,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “And after tonight,” he continued, trailing kissing back up until his lips were against your ear. “You’ll be mine.”

You pulled him in for a heated kiss, leaning against the counter as one of your legs moved to wrap around his waist. Joshua leaned into the kiss, parting your lips and sliding his hot tongue into your mouth, muffling your moans.

You whined as he pulled away, slowly kissing down your neck to your collar before taking the hem of the shirt you were currently wearing and tugging it up, pulling the shirt off over your head. “Good girl,” he murmured, taking in your topless form.

His hands were back on you in a second, lips trailing kisses down your collar and between your breasts. As he lowered himself to his knees, he made quick work of the shorts you were wearing, pulling them along with your panties down your legs before taking one of your thighs and lifting it over his shoulder.

You watched as he planted light kisses along the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your aching heat. One of your hands braced yourself against the counter, the other moving down to tangle in his hair as he placed a kiss just above your clit before shifting between your thighs, pushing them further apart.

Your head fell back as you slipped to rest your forearm against the counter again as you felt Joshua’s tongue glide through your folds, brushing your clit lightly. Light teasing licks turned into heavy laps until he pulled back, his chin already covered in your essence. “Bed,” was the only word he uttered.

You were there faster than you could process, your head spinning with arousal as you leaned back against the sheets. Joshua had stripped himself of his shirt in the short distance from the kitchen to the bed and was lowering himself to kneel as you parted your thighs.

He fell onto the mattress, arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling your pussy closer to his face.

You moaned, head falling into the pillows as you felt his tongue back on your clit. He teased and toyed with the bud, not really falling into a rhythm. Instead he was merely taking his time and learning your body. Twice you felt the tip of his tongue dip down to your hole, pushing into it as his nose bumped against your clit. You felt the vibration of his groans against your sex, your walls tightening around the end of his tongue.

Just when you thought he was going to pull away, it was as if his tongue grew, entering you fully and filling your cunt. “Oh shit,” you cursed, fingers tightening in his hair as your free hand gripped the sheets beneath you tightly.

He only pushed his tongue into you a few times before pulling back. You raised your head wearily to see him licking his lips. “Already so fucked out?” he asked with a chuckle. He didn’t give you the opportunity to respond as he pushed two fingers into your cunt, watching your face as your lips parted in a silent moan.

Your eyes rolled back as he started to slowly pump his fingers in and out of you.

“That’s it,” he cooed as he curled his fingers, brushing against the soft spongy spot that had your toes curling. “You like that?” he asked, mildly amused by the response you were giving him despite him doing the bare minimum. “Yes!” you gasped as he continued to finger you. “F-fuck!” you swore. “Don’t stop!”

Joshua continued to watch your face as you writhed in pleasure under him. “Like that?” he asked, angling his hand so his fingers reached even further. “Yes! J-just like that!” Joshua leaned down, lips moving against yours, a mix of tongues, spit, and moans but you weren’t sure whose moans they were.

Joshua pulled away, keeping his eyes on your face as he sped up the pace. “Just like that?”

You nodded quickly, your body starting to shake as your orgasm approached but before it could crash over you, Joshua withdrew his hand. You whined at the loss of contact, making Joshua chuckle. “You’re falling asleep,” he noted. You pouted at him. “Don’t care,” you murmured.

Joshua tilted his head curiously. “Are you giving me permission to fuck you while you’re sleeping?” he asked. You nodded. It felt too good and you were so close you’d do just about anything to cum. “Yes,” you answered. “Feels s’good.”

Joshua chuckled against your skin, leaving feathery kisses against your cheek. “As you wish,” he said softly, gently rolling you onto your stomach. You felt his hands push your thighs apart and shuddered as you felt something hot and wet against your hole.

You assumed it was his tongue until it pushed into your cunt and you groaned into the pillows. It was most certainly not his tongue. “Wh-what’s that?” you murmured. You felt one of Joshua’s hands caress your cheek. “Shh, angel,” he said softly and you almost laughed at the irony of it.

A demon calling you angel.

You tried to lift your head to look back but it was too dark. “It’s okay,” you heard him purr in your ear. “Just go to sleep,” he added.

Your cheek fell back against the sheets as sleep started to take over your form. You felt whatever was inside you probing around and a sudden thought hit you. “Is that a tentacle?” you murmured, your voice partially muffled. Joshua chuckled, again in your ear as he leaned over you. “Yes,” he answered.

“It is.”

That snapped you awake. “Hng,” you grunted as the tentacle started to thrust in and out of you. “W-wait a second,” you whined. “I thought you…” you trailed off as Joshua halted his movement. “What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered. “I wanted your…” your words failed you again.

“You have to use complete sentences,” Joshua cooed in your ear. “I wanted your cock,” you finally whined. Joshua chuckled, the tentacle in you starting to slowly thrust. “Don’t worry sweetheart,” he replied. “You’ll get that, too.”

Your cheeks burned as the tentacle continued to pump into your pussy, gently bumping your cervix with each thrust. You felt another warm wet appendage against your ass and tried to reach behind you but Joshua managed to catch both hands and pin them to the bed.

“Shhh,” he murmured. “Just relax for me. Can you do that, angel?”

You moaned into the sheets as the second tentacle pushed into your ass, carefully stretching you open. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly as the tentacle stopped, settling in your ass as the one in your pussy continued to move. The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

“That’s my good girl,” Joshua whispered into your ear as the tentacle in your ass slowly started to move, setting an asynchronous pace to the first tentacle and soon both were thrusting into you. It wasn’t enough to build up an orgasm but it was enough to drive you insane.

You wanted more. You needed more.

You moaned into the pillows as the tentacles increased speed. “That’s it baby,” Joshua cooed. “You’re doing so well for me.” You were aware that the sheets were no doubt covered in your arousal and that a mess was being created between your thighs.

Joshua didn’t seem to mind. Without another word, the tentacles withdrew leaving you feeling empty. You let out a tiny yelp as Joshua wrapped an arm around your hips, pulling your ass up before taking one of the pillows and tucking it under your raised hips.

You moaned as he ran his hands over your ass, crying out when you felt him land a blow against the skin. He repeated this again, rubbing his hand over the spot each time. “Of course,” he murmured, more to himself than anything else. “Of course you’d like that, you little slut.”

You moaned at the degrading name, whimpering when you felt him push two fingers into your heat again. “I supposed you’re ready,” he added. Your body burned in anticipation as you felt the bed move. You had neither the energy or will to look and see what was happening but it didn’t matter.

As quickly as Joshua disappeared, he was back, kneeling behind you and spreading your cheeks with his hands. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he growled. “And it’s all mine.”

You moaned in response as he spit onto your waiting hole. The next thing you felt was the tip of his cock brushing against you. “I’m going to ruin this little pussy,” he growled in your ear. “Make it so mine is the only cock you can take.”

You whimpered as you felt his teeth dig into your shoulder before he straightened back up. You felt the head of his cock as it pushed slowly into you and suddenly, you knew why he prepped you with the tentacles beforehand.

Inch by inch, Joshua slid into you. Your body shook as your cunt stretched to accommodate his girth. As he bottomed out, you shuddered, walls clenching and unclenching around him. “So warm,” he breathed. “M’gonna wreck you,” he added, taking your hips in both hands before slowly drawing his cock out until just the tip was still inside you.

Without warning, he snapped his hips forward, making you scream into the pillows as he pushed all of his cock into you at once. The first few thrusts were the hardest but as he fell into a steady rhythm, the stinging pain was replaced with a dull ache. You could already feel your juices starting to roll down your thighs, no doubt mixed with sweat as Joshua pounded into you from behind.

You could feel the tip of his cock hit your cervix with each stroke. You cried out as he slammed into you.

He hovered over you, one hand on the mattress next to you and the other holding your hip. “You take cock so well, baby,” he growled. “It’s like you were made for this.”

You moaned loudly, tears and spit staining the pillow your face was currently buried in. Joshua grabbed the pillow and tossed it aside. “I want to hear you,” he rasped, hips hitting your ass as he thrust into you. “Wanna hear you scream for me and I split you open.”

Your cries filled the room with each slam of his hips, the sound of skin hitting skin the only other sound to be heard. Your fingers dug into the sheets, trying to ground yourself from the onslaught of his hips. “Mine,” you heard him growl. It was almost animalistic. As if to seal his claim, you cried out as you felt his teeth sink into your shoulder. The stinging pain of your shoulder combined with the feeling of his cock repeatedly dragging against your walls raw sent you over the edge and you came with a whimper, falling limp as he continued to fuck you.

More tears spilled as Joshua moved, his hips never faltering. “M’gonna fuck you so good,” he grunted. “Fuck you like you deserve. Fuck you until you’re full of nothing but my cum. Turn you into my own cum dumpster like the good little slut are.”

The sound of his almost angelic voice saying all those dirty things had your mind reeling as your second orgasm built up quickly, a low, deep moan escaping you as you came for a second time. “Such a good little girl,” he chuckled. His chest pressed against your back as he buried his cock fully inside you, pinning you to the mattress.

“You want that? You want me to fill you up? You want me to breed you?”

You moaned, hips pushing back against him, urging him to move again.

When he did it was fast and unforgiving. His thrusts were erratic. “Fuck,” he growled, his voice hitting a low you didn’t think possible. “Stay down,” he added, pinning you to the mattress as he pushed himself up with one hand. “Yeah,” he continued when you obeyed him. “Just like that.”

You felt his cock twitch and throb in your pussy, your walls fluttering around him as another orgasm washed over you. You’d lost count at this point how many you had but Joshua was nearing his own and you were left at his mercy as he chased his high, hips slamming into you as he growled and cursed in a language you didn’t understand.

As he finally started to come undone, he thrust once, twice, thrice more before burying his cock deep in your walls as he came, teeth sinking into your skin once more, marking you as thick ropes of his hot cum painted your walls and filled your cunt until it started to spill out.

You panted, breathing heavily against the sheets, ignoring the drool on your chin. Joshua shuddered as the last of his cum spilled into you. He let out one final groan before stilling completely. Your eyes fluttered shut as you heard him whisper into your ear but what he said you weren’t sure.

Everything faded to black.

You woke with a start and opened your eyes, sunlight filtering into your room and blinding you.

You groaned as you tried to roll over but your limbs were heavy and sore. It took more strength than usual to roll over. As you did, you caught sight of the alarm clock next to your bed but something was wrong.

It was on the opposite side. You lifted your head and stared at the alarm clock. The red numbers told you that it was just after nine in the morning. That was when you noticed the wall. It wasn’t your wall. You started to push yourself up, peering down at the sheets. They weren’t your sheets.

Just where the hell were you?

You sat up and looked around. This wasn’t your place.

Your gaze continued over the familiar surroundings but it wasn’t until it landed on a figure in the kitchen that everything clicked.

He smiled as he walked over carrying two plates and a mug of coffee.

You watched as he sat on the edge of bed, setting the coffee on the side table next to you before setting one of the plates in your lap. “Morning,” he said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You seemed pretty tired last night,” he added. “So I let you sleep in.”

You looked around as you tried to process what waking up at his place meant. Did you two…?

Memories from the night before flashed before your eyes.

The demon in your room, showing up at Joshua’s place, the sex. You raised a hand up to your mouth as you realized what actually happened last night. You looked over at Joshua as he ate his own plate of pancakes. “Did we…?” you whispered looking up to meet his gaze. His eyes, which were brown, momentarily flashed red, and you knew instantly.

“We did indeed, doll,” he answered, returning his gaze to his plate.

“And you’re…?” Joshua nodded, looking up. “Yep. I’m a demon,” he answered nonchalantly.

“But I’m your demon,” he added. Your cheeks burned as he smirked at you.

“So I was thinking,” he continued to speak.

“Maybe we could move in together.”

You stared at him as he spoke. “I mean, since we’re bound to each other for eternity now, it just makes sense, you know?”

Your heart hammered in your chest, blood pounding in your ears. ‘Move in together?’

“And if we live together, we can have sex like every night.”

‘For eternity?’

“It would be perfect. It’s stupid for us to be apart anyway.”

You looked down at your plate as your pulse sped up.

‘What the hell have I done?’

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

#joshua hong smut #seventeen smut #i knew as soon as i saw incubus and joshua that i never stood a chance #it doesn't help that I'm finally trying to get through my bookmarks and this fic was so high up plus the josh brainrot has been creeping up #on me lately #god this started off so soft and sweet #the world you built?#chef's kiss #also all the little hints that josh isn't exactly who or what we think he is?#loved that #their date at the Italian place was so cute :((((((#i guess he didn't want to freak reader out but i feel like he could've revealed that he was a demon in a less terrifying and batshit insane #way 💀#adds to the suspense and thrill of it all if nothing else though #what does a woman need to do to have joshua hong fuck her with tentacles #jesus christ that scene in particular was so hot my god #your brain?#enormous #thank you for feeding the monsterfuckers on here (me)#my affinity for mean josh with his massive cock will be my downfall i think so thanks for contributing to that #also the ending conversations????👀👁👁 no pressure for a sequel by any means but i am so curious to see/know how things pan out #i think josh needs to slow his roll a litgle maybe 😭💀 give reader sometime to catch her breath y'know

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cressidagrey · 3 months ago

Text

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.”

***

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trivia-yandere · 19 days ago

Note

Please tell me if have something dark and crazy fic or something you recommend. Something like Hannibal, or maybe not that sounded wrong. Like Beast of Busan eh 😏 I read all of the your fics, I can’t nothing else like yours

hii :3 i haven’t read anything as of recently since im (silently) writing, but i do have a few fics on my mind to recommend! (though i dont know how dark & crazy you want to go so ill just recommend at random 💀)

predator series, solar eclipse, 10 series, the reaper, run little red, etc by @deepdarkdelights are some (matter of fact just read the whole masterlist)

polarity, graveyard shift, darknets, etc by @darkestcorners

obsesión by @thvlouvre

sweet ruin, a dangerous game, when the chips are down, suga, we’re going down, baby mine, end game, etc by @chaoticpuff17 every breath you take, candelit nightmare, the seance by @junqkook (really just read the whole masterlist lol)

his pet, for the love of the game, all bark no bite, polar night, etc by @amoc94 plus she also has a yandere masterlist full of great fics!

(ill add more later when they come back to me 💀)

#bts fic recs #bts yandere #bts smut #like theres a lot more so ill have to add later on #like these fics are also well known so maybe i didnt even recommend anything you havent already read 💀

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lady-luckk · 3 months ago

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ mini bios for yandere sugar daddy harem

# pairing: yandere sugar daddy harem x sugar baby reader

# synopsis: exactly as the title says. expands more on the personality of the eight weirdos obsessed with you.

# warnings: this will contain dark themes such as obsession and possessiveness. if you are uncomfortable, please block me. viewer discretion is advised. minors DNI.

# note: i decided to make bios for all of these dudes. mainly bc we both needed a way to keep track of them 💀. so hope this helps!! also part 2 is basically almost done I just need to edit it!!! likes, commemts, and reblogs are appreciated.

elijah:

elijah is friendly but disconnected. he treats most people like background characters in the love story he’s built in his head. he’s polite, even charming at times, but rarely genuine. conversations with him tend to feel one-sided—he’ll smile, nod, and drift off mid-sentence, lost in daydreams. he struggles to form deep connections with anyone who isn’t you because, to him, no one else really matters.

he lives in a fantasy where you’re already his and nothing else matters. he sees the world through the lens of a love story he’s written in his head. with others, he’s warm but shallow—polite only because it’s expected. he rarely remembers details about people who aren’t you. to you, he’s intense and unwavering. he talks like your connection is fate, like you’re both destined. he’ll plan imaginary dates months ahead, leave poems under your pillow, and whisper about the life he sees in your eyes—whether you believe in it or not.

with others: elijah smiles politely, but there’s distance behind his eyes. he listens, nods, but rarely contributes. when asked about his life, he redirects or offers vague pleasantries. he’s present, but never engaged. with you: his demeanor shifts completely—more focused, more intense. every word you speak is absorbed like gospel. he hangs onto your sentences, responds with long, flowery monologues about the life he envisions with you. your presence seems to anchor him.

his quirk: he writes love letters he never sends and keeps them in a shoebox labeled “someday.” sometimes he narrates imaginary conversations with you under his breath, like he’s practicing for a future that only exists in his head.

“they’re just… thoughts i needed to get out. i don’t need to send them—you’ll feel it anyway, right? i already say it all to you in my head. you always listen there.”

lucas:

lucas keeps people at a distance. he’s quiet and observant, choosing his words carefully if he bothers to speak at all. he doesn’t care for small talk or socializing. coworkers and acquaintances often describe him as cold or standoffish, but he doesn’t mind. he doesn’t waste energy on people who don’t serve a purpose. control and order are his priorities—his environment, his schedule, his emotions, all tightly managed.

he moves like a shadow—calm, reserved, and constantly watching. he’s cold and clipped with most people, only speaking when necessary and never indulging small talk. he keeps a tight inner circle and doesn’t let anyone in, except for you. around you, he softens, though never fully. he doesn’t smother; he lingers. he notices everything you do and makes quiet adjustments to your life without asking—changing locks, moving furniture, replacing things he thinks aren’t good enough. he doesn’t say “i love you”—he says, “you’re safest with me.”

with others: lucas keeps interactions short. he answers questions in clipped sentences, avoids eye contact unless necessary, and never lingers in conversation. people find him cold, hard to read, and quietly intimidating. with you: he becomes grounded, but not exactly softer—just more fixated. he watches you closely, notices the smallest changes in your tone or posture. he doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it’s always about you. his silence with you feels intentional, like he’s claiming space by being near.

his quirk: he keeps every item that reminds him of you: receipts, empty cups, hair ties, notes. he has a drawer full of these “souvenirs,” and he’ll occasionally pull one out just to stare at it and smile like it’s sacred.

“yeah, i kept the receipt from that one cafe. you said something that day, i don’t remember exactly what, but it made me feel like… like i mattered. i just didn’t want to forget it.”

nathan:

nathan is introverted and soft-spoken. he’s not the type to make waves or assert himself in social situations. he’s often quiet, preferring to observe rather than participate in conversations. he struggles with making small talk and is prone to second-guessing himself in social settings. despite his shyness, he’s deeply empathetic and attentive to the needs of others. when he does speak, it’s often thoughtful and sincere. he’s the kind of person who remembers small details about people’s lives and shows genuine concern for their well-being, even if he doesn’t always know how to express it.

nathan is all nerves under a polished exterior. he tries to seem confident, but his need for reassurance bleeds through in every conversation. with others, he’s friendly and eager to please, but quick to fold under pressure. he tries too hard to be liked. to you, he’s clingy and full of need—checking in constantly, hanging on every word you say. he memorizes your routines and waits for your cues to feel okay. he gifts you things impulsively, overcompensating for the fear that he’ll never be enough to keep you.

with others: nathan tries hard to please—overlaughing at jokes, offering help even when it’s not needed. he often apologizes for things he didn’t do. his nervous energy is palpable, and people walk over him without realizing it. with you: he’s still nervous, but in a quieter, more vulnerable way. he constantly seeks your approval, asking if you’re okay, if you’re happy. there’s a tremble in his voice when he compliments you. he watches your reactions like they’ll tell him if he’s enough.

his quirk: he bakes when he’s anxious—muffins, cookies, banana bread—and always “accidentally” brings too much, leaving a fresh batch at your door with a shy note. it’s his way of saying what he can’t out loud.

“i, uh… i didn’t know if you were having a rough day or not, but, um, muffins help me, so… maybe they’ll help you too? no pressure or anything. just… eat one if you want.”

kai:

kai is intense. with others, he’s unpredictable and moody, never staying in one lane long enough for anyone to get comfortable. he lashes out quickly when he feels disrespected, but softens just as fast when someone shows him care. most people find him draining or confusing. he craves closeness but pushes people away the moment they get too near. he struggles with boundaries and doesn’t know how to regulate his emotions in public or private.

he's like a whirlwind. he’s charming and magnetic one second, distant and sharp the next. his mood swings keep people at arm’s length—no one knows where they stand with him. to you, he crashes hard. he’s constantly seeking emotional intensity, starting fights just to feel close, apologizing with tears and bruised knuckles. he touches you like you’ll disappear and speaks like every word might be his last. you’re his grounding point in a life he can’t control, and he’ll burn down anything he thinks is pulling you away.

with others: kai shifts gears quickly—one moment charming and charismatic, the next cold and distant. he gets bored fast, lashes out when people don’t keep up with him. most avoid getting too close. with you: you’re the exception. his volatility still exists, but it bends toward you. when you’re happy, he’s euphoric. when you’re annoyed, he spirals. his emotions run through you like a wire—tension building and releasing in waves.

his quirk: he changes his phone wallpaper to a different candid picture of you almost daily. sometimes it’s from a night you barely remember; sometimes it’s one he shouldn’t have. he’ll show it off or hide it depending on his mood.

“don’t laugh. you looked insane in this pic—like, wild—but i can’t stop staring at it. i don’t even remember taking it. you’re just… always there, even when you’re not.”

matthew:

matthew appears kind and dependable. people trust him quickly—he knows how to make others feel safe, like he has everything under control. but there’s a quiet authority to him that makes others hesitant to cross him. he doesn’t tolerate disrespect, and he doesn’t forgive easily. most people see him as stable and responsible, unaware of how calculating he really is. he prefers being in charge, even if it means subtly manipulating those around him.

matthew speaks in calm, measured tones and carries an air of quiet authority. others find him intimidating—he rarely smiles and doesn’t entertain nonsense. he watches people like they’re puzzles he’s already solved. to you, he becomes meticulous, attentive, and possessive under the guise of care. he manages your schedule, your diet, your space, always claiming it’s for your good. he runs you a bath before you realize you need it, lays out your clothes, installs tracking on your phone. he believes love is control—and he loves you more than anything.

with others: matthew is measured, efficient. he rarely explains himself. people follow his lead because it’s easier than pushing back. he’s polite, but there’s a subtle threat behind his courtesy. with you: the control remains, but it softens into caretaking. he adjusts your routine, checks your schedule, reminds you to eat. his concern feels clinical at times, but there’s a clear emotional undercurrent—like you’re the only thing he wants to keep orderly.

his quirk: he’s obsessive about timing and schedules, especially when it comes to you. he sends you reminders to eat, texts you your own calendar, and gets slightly agitated if your routine shifts—even if it’s out of your control.

“you always forget to drink water. and sleep. and eat. i’m not being controlling—i just… someone has to care enough to remember for you. i don’t mind. i like doing it.”

leo:

leo tends to avoid others when he doesn’t feel secure. he’s awkward in group settings, easily overwhelmed, and quick to retreat if he senses rejection. people often see him as overly sensitive or dramatic. he needs a lot of reassurance, which makes him exhausting to those who don’t know how to handle emotional intensity. he’s the type to attach quickly and panic when he feels alone.

leo wears his heart on his sleeve, overly emotional and endlessly attached. he’s erratic with others—too talkative, too eager, too sensitive to criticism. he gets overwhelmed easily and withdraws when people don’t respond how he wants. to you, he latches on like you’re the only safe place in the world. he calls multiple times a day just to hear your voice. he gets anxious when you don’t respond quickly and spirals into panic if you’re distant. he thrives off your attention, melts under your praise, and breaks without your comfort.

with others: leo tries to be liked, but his energy feels off-putting. he interrupts, overshares, and tries too hard to connect. people are polite, but they rarely stay close. with you: he quiets down—not because he’s calmer, but because he’s overwhelmed by how much he needs you. he lingers near you constantly, asks where you’re going, when you’ll be back. he holds onto your words like they’re lifelines.

his quirk: he sends you voice notes constantly—rambling thoughts, updates, sweet nothings. sometimes he talks just to feel close to you, whispering half-asleep confessions at 3am that he forgets to delete.

“i know it’s a lot but… sometimes it feels like you’re right there when i talk. and if you listen, you’ll know how much i miss you. even when i say dumb stuff like, ‘i saw a cloud shaped like your face.’”

xavier:

xavier commands attention in every room he enters, even when he says nothing. people respect him, but they don’t trust him. he’s intimidating without trying to be, always a few steps ahead of the conversation. he doesn’t bother pretending to like anyone. relationships are strategic—useful or discarded. he keeps everyone guessing, never reveals his full hand, and always has a plan in motion. people fear him more than they admire him.

xavier is sharp, composed, and intimidating. he commands attention in any room, and people either admire or fear him. he’s cold, dismissive, and rarely shows emotion—unless it’s anger. to you, he’s quietly intense. he studies you like a project, always ten steps ahead. he knows your habits better than you do and manipulates situations to make you more reliant on him. he touches you deliberately, speaks in low tones meant only for you. you’re his obsession, his prize, and he’ll bend the world to keep you close.

with others: xavier commands attention without effort. people watch their words around him, knowing he misses nothing. he’s sharp, confident, and not afraid to assert control in subtle, unsettling ways. with you: he shifts from sharp to sharp-eyed. his control tightens but becomes quieter. he touches your lower back in public, speaks for you in conversations, watches you instead of others. his attention is constant, and it’s absolute.

his quirk: he keeps a hidden notebook filled with hypothetical timelines—vacations, homes, investments, life goals—all built around you. he updates it weekly and treats it more seriously than his actual job.

“it’s not weird. it’s preparation. people waste time waiting for things to happen. i don’t. when you finally say yes, i’ll already know the best city, the house layout, the name of the dog. efficiency.”

damien:

damien is a ghost in most social situations. he speaks only when necessary, watches everything, and gives nothing away. people find him unsettling, like he knows something they don’t. he’s not rude—just distant, clinical, unreadable. he rarely forms connections and prefers to work alone. others might describe him as obsessive or odd, but they don’t really know him well enough to say for sure. he’s a shadow in the background—always listening, always calculating.

damien is calm, quiet, and almost forgettable in a crowd. he keeps to himself, doesn’t make waves, and most people barely register his presence. he likes it that way. to you, he’s dangerously devoted. he watches everything—your expressions, your silences, the way your hands move. he collects moments and records memories like evidence in a case only he understands. he doesn’t ask for love—he prepares for it. he leaves little traces of himself in your life: notes in your books, your favorite snack already stocked, your broken things fixed without a word. he doesn’t need you to say you’re his—he already knows.

with others: damien is unnoticed by most. he blends into the background, observing everything without being seen. when people speak to him, they forget the conversation by the time they walk away. with you: his presence becomes focused, unignorable. he knows your habits, your patterns, your silences. he anticipates your needs before you voice them. he’s quiet still—but now, it feels like he’s everywhere at once.

his quirk: he records audio of your conversations without you knowing—not for anything sinister, just so he can replay your voice when you’re not around. he names the files after your moods that day: “laughing,” “quiet,” “tired but sweet.”

“your voice changes when you’re tired. it’s softer. quieter. i like that version of you. no one else gets to hear it but me.”

#yandere #yandere sugar daddy harem #yandere sugar daddy #male yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yancore #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere harem

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fifty555 · 7 months ago

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ mimosas? no, marriage!

welcome back lovers to the continuation of your little love with mr. norris 🧡!

content warning; nothing much, just scattered explicit language here and there — used a lot pinterest photos though.

summary; after that fateful dinner post-silverstone ‘23, life went on with you and lando.

here’s part one!

landonorris

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and others

landonorris welp, let’s hope she doesn’t lose the ring in wet clays anytime soon 😇

to think that this all started because of a packet of gummy bears, i love you mrs. norris yourusername 🧡

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yourusername and i love you, mr. norris 💞!

landonorris im her husband guys 🤭

username may this kind of love find me ✋🏻

mclaren congratulations to our power couple 🥂!

jensonbutton and little lando norris isn’t so little anymore, congratulations to the beautiful couple ❤️.

lewishamilton congrats mate! wishing you two all the best, enjoy the ride!

oscarpiastri best hard launch of the season

username yes oscar, we can tell lando probably blurted it out to you first to bcs he was so excited

yourusername precisely ☺️

username HAHAHAH-

danielricciardo and we thought he’d be single for the rest of his life too 😔 congrats though 🥳

username THE FACT THAT YALL WERE AT HIS WEDDING TOO

landonorris tell me abt it 🙄 ungrateful asses 🙃

username con 😭 grat 😭 ula 😭 tions

carlosainz55 he finally found a girl- sorry, wife you guys!!

username our condolences carlos, your wag chose an even cooler person, sorry 😔🙏🏻

yourusername yes, says the man who was shitting tears whilst lando read his vows to ME 😍

alex_albon wait, we thought you’d take her last name??

landonorris … she’s only a few inches taller than me

georgerussell63 what’s your exact excuse really? shes older than you too

landonorris BY A YEAR 😭

username THE WAY HIS OWN FRIENDS R CLOCMIG BBIM ON HIS WEDDING POST CMON 😭😭😭

username EXACTLY 💀

—

September 10th, 2023 — Wedding Day

It was the day that you had dreamed of for as long as you could remember, yet nothing could truly prepare you for the flood of emotions that rushed over you as you stood there, facing Lando at the altar. He was grinning like a giddy schoolboy, as if the world had stopped just for you two. The sunlight poured in through the grand windows of the venue, casting a golden glow around him, making everything feel surreal.

You never imagined your wedding day would look like this, but standing before him, with the life you’d built together in the background, it was perfect.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“I do,” Lando echoed, his voice full of love and certainty, his hand gripping yours as if nothing else mattered.

—

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername yes, i got married to a man who drives a papaya coloured car 🥰 i love your mr norris landonorris

i’ll try my best not to lose the ring 😬

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username CONGRATULATIONS TO THE BEST CERAMIST AND HER PAPAYA GUY 🥂

charles_leclerc congrats to lando and démone 🥳

yourusername why thank you chicken 🥰

username NOT HIM CALLJNG HER A DEMON— whats the story here 💀⁉️

username apparently she used to terrorise him on the karting tracks when they were kids 🤠 hence the name demon ✋🏻

yourusername and he used to squabble like a chicken when he lost, so hence the name chicken ❤️

maxverstappen1 congrats!! still cant believe you guys were together and managed to keep it from us of all people 🙏🏻

sebastianvettel congratulations to the happy couple 💐!

yourusername thank you so much for the flowers, seb 🥹💞

kimimattiasraikkonen ❤️

username i absolutely love how the only chaotic comment is from charles while the others r congratulating her

username the stark difference from landos comments r killing me 💀

georgerussell63 you shouldve threatened him into taking your surname 😔 yours sounds way cooler

yourusername yknow what they said, we have to prioritise the little ones ☺️

danielricciardo youre too generous babes

username 💀💀💀✋🏻

landonorris … MY OWN WIFE GANGING UP ON ME

carlossainz55 ill crash your honeymoon ❤️

yourusername alexa, play the other woman by lana del rey 😇

username OH FFIHT FIGBT DIFB

username “there were three of us in this marriage” 💀💀

landonorris GUYS SHES MY WIFE NOW YAAAYY

yourusername 🧡🧡🧡

—

May 5th, 2024 - The Miami Grand Prix.

The moment everyone had been waiting for. Your heart raced as you watched Lando on your phone from your hotel room, feeling that familiar tension in the air as he crossed the finish line.

You weren’t there. And it broke you.

But there was a reason. You had been told to rest, to stay in bed, and most of all, to take it easy during the pregnancy’s more delicate stages. You hated that you couldn’t be there — you hated that you couldn’t be the one to throw your arms around him as he celebrated. But you knew Lando. He would be okay. He had this.

When the podium ceremony came, you were watching it all unfold on the screen, your hands clutched to your chest as you saw the familiar flash of cameras and heard the roar of the crowd. Lando was beaming, trophy in hand.

And then, with a wink, he pulled out his phone. A post.

You gasped, tears welling in your eyes as you took in the words. You were so proud. But more than anything, you were over the moon with joy. The world now knew: the Norris family was growing.

landonorris

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landonorris WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆 also, swipe for a lil’ surprise, thanks to everyone but especially my girls at home ❤️

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username DILF LANDO UNLOCKED????!!

username GIRLDAD LANDO IH MY GOD

f1 p1 and a baby girl on the way 🥳

username CONGRATS LANDAD 🌟🌟🌟

username baby norris on the way!!

username DIBS ON GODPARENT

username EY BACK OFF 🤺🤺

username NO YALL BACK OFF 🤺

—

yourusername

September 3rd, 2024

After months of preparation, late-night baby name debates, and countless check-ups, it was finally here. The moment you’d been waiting for. Your baby girl was on her way.

Lando was by your side through it all, his hand never leaving yours. Every contraction, every breath, he was there. His excitement was contagious, his nervousness endearing, and you could see the future unfolding right before your eyes. He was ready for this. You both were.

The room was a whirlwind of movement, but in that chaos, there was peace. There was love. And there were you two, together — now, with a little one in your arms.

When she finally arrived, you felt like you were holding the world in your hands. She was perfect. Small, wriggly, with a little tuft of dark hair and tiny fingers that gripped yours immediately.

You and Lando shared a quiet, overwhelmed smile.

“I love you,” Lando whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I love her. Our little girl.”

You nodded, your heart full. “She’s perfect, Lan.”

—

landonorris and yourusername

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landonorris the best parts of us came together in you, and now our hearts are full in ways we didn’t think possible. eden norris, edie, you are the most beautiful blessing to mummy and daddy. welcome to the world, sweet girl ❤️.

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Edie became the center of your universe. Life was a little more chaotic, a little more unpredictable — but it was beautiful. Lando would rush back from the race weekends just to kiss you and hold Edie close. The little girl, just two weeks old, had already captured his heart in a way that made you fall in love with him all over again.

You were a family now.

And although things had changed in ways you couldn’t have imagined, there was one thing that stayed constant: Lando’s love for you, for her, for this new life you were building together.

It wasn’t always easy. There were sleepless nights, endless bottles, and days where you felt like you were running on fumes. But you never once doubted that this, right here, was everything you had always dreamed of.

The world watched as Lando took the podium again, this time at the Singapore Grand Prix, the first race after Edie’s birth. You were there, cheering him on from the pit, Edie sleeping soundly in your arms. It was almost like a full circle moment: from wedding day to fatherhood, from your first win to this.

But this? This was your biggest victory yet. And as you watched Lando embrace his daughter for the first time in front of millions of people, you couldn’t help but think:

This was just the beginning.

soooo, SORRY FOR THE DELAY 😭✋🏻

y’all, i’m still emotionally recovering from the fact that max is going to be a father, so— this one is a bit half assed but i plan on re-editing some things when i get over this ☹️.

anywhos, i hope you all had a wonderful holiday and merry christmas to those who celebrate, hope y’all ate lots of good meals 😋!

i’m lowkey dipping my toes into smau as well so please be nice 😞✨.

anywho, please enjoy this lowkey dumpster fire 😛!!!

#f1 x reader #lando norris x reader #x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #pregnancy #still havent emotionally recovered from max’s post LOL #PLEASE ENJOY THIS DUMPSTER FIRE #fifty’s fics 🐇

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d-z20 · 6 months ago

Text

From Jealousy, Comes a Flood (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: During a coven gathering, harmless flirtation draws the sharp eyes of Agatha and Rio, their possessive instincts simmering beneath the surface. Later, in the privacy of their bedroom, they remind you exactly who you belong to.

-OR-

Jen is flirting with you, much to the displeasure of Agatha and Rio. They can only take so much so it is not long before you're dragged upstairs and fucked into next week

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mentions of alcohol consumption, Top Agatha, Top Rio, bottom reader, threesome (duh), kind of mean agathario, light dom/sub themes, magic cocks, possessiveness, ownership, degradation, praise, creampie/breeding, overstimulation, squirting, soft aftercare, cock-warming

Words: 4.9k

A/N: another FuckMarvelEveryoneLives AU and I've decided that Eddie gets roped into the coven as well. I think I'm utterly hilarious with this title and I don't care if you disagree 💀 Fic req

AO3 | Masterlist

The evening hums with warmth, the air thick with candlelight and magic. Agatha’s living room is filled with the easy sounds of conversation, the occasional clink of glasses, and the quiet laughter of a coven that has, against all odds, found peace. Lilia and Billy sit tucked away in one corner, deep in discussion about the ever-shifting paths of the Witches’ Road, their words a steady, familiar rhythm against the backdrop of Alice’s teasing. Eddie groans in mock frustration, waving her off with a smirk, but it’s all background noise to Agatha, barely registering past the scene unfolding across the room.

You’re seated comfortably on the loveseat, a glass in hand, and Jen is next to you—too close, really, though you either don’t notice or don’t mind. The warmth of her body presses against yours, a slow and steady presence, her knee brushing against yours beneath the low table. She’s relaxed, sprawled in a way that lets her arm drape casually over the back of the couch, fingers dangerously close to your shoulder. Every so often, when she leans in to say something, her lips hover just shy of your ear, the words meant for you alone.

Agatha’s grip tightens around the stem of her wine glass.

She watches, sharp blue eyes tracking every languid movement Jen makes, every flicker of her fingers against your arm, every flash of your smile in response. You look at Jen the way you always do—open and warm, entirely unaware of the way Agatha’s gaze darkens, something smouldering beneath the surface. The wine is smooth on her tongue, but there’s something sharper curling in her gut.

From across the room, Rio stands near the fireplace, her stance deceptively relaxed, one arm resting against the mantel as she observes the interaction with a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Her fingers tap a slow rhythm against her lips, a steady metronome of barely restrained irritation. She doesn’t bother to mask the way her gaze lingers on Jen’s hand—where it rests, where it shouldn’t.

Jen is playing with fire. And she doesn’t even realise it.

Or maybe she does. Maybe she’s testing the waters, seeing just how far she can push before the dam breaks.

It’s not overt—nothing crude, nothing anyone else would comment on—but Agatha knows. She knows the way a witch moves when she’s hunting, the way interest sharpens into something bolder. She can see it in the way Jen leans just a little too close, in the way her fingers graze your wrist under the pretence of emphasising a joke.

You laugh, head tilting back slightly, and the sound is a warm, golden thing that makes something in Agatha snap. Just for a second. Her knuckles go white around the glass, the tension bleeding into her posture, but she reins it in before it can spill over. She’s controlled. Patient. But, oh, she’s scheming.

Rio catches the shift before anyone else—the slight clench of Agatha’s jaw, the way her fingers flex before settling, the sharp inhale she takes before exhaling through her nose. Brown eyes flick back to you and Rio’s smirk deepens. It’s not amusement anymore.

It’s oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re in for.

And when your hand slips over Jen’s for just a moment—fleeting, accidental, barely even a touch—Agatha’s patience wears just a little thinner.

—

The evening winds down in a slow, lazy hum, conversations fading into the comfortable haze of flickering candlelight and half-drunk glasses of wine. What hasn’t wound down is the tension that has been steadily curling around you, threading through every moment since Jen first laid a hand on you. You feel it now—wrapped around your skin like something tangible, like something electric.

And Agatha is done waiting.

She doesn’t announce it, doesn’t make a scene. She simply moves. A shift of energy, a shift of power. One moment, she’s perched on the edge of the couch, glass in hand, her blue eyes unreadable as they flick between you and Jen. The next, she’s there—at your side, close enough that the warmth of her body is a quiet, searing brand against your own.

An arm snakes around your waist, fingers firm but deceptively gentle, nails grazing the fabric of your clothes as she pulls you flush against her side. The contrast is dizzying—the casual way she holds you, like she’s done it a thousand times before—and the quiet steel beneath it, the way her grip brooks no argument. She doesn’t ask. She takes.

“We’re going upstairs,” she tells everyone, her voice a slow, dark thing that settles deep in your belly.

Then a beat of silence. The air crackles with unspoken meaning before Agatha tilts her head, smirking slightly. “No need to leave just yet,” she adds, deceptively pleasant. “Señor Scratchy will make sure you all find the door soon enough.”

The coven collectively shifts their gazes toward the far side of the room, where the very content, very fluffy rabbit sits on an ornate end table, lazily munching on a piece of lettuce. His nose twitches slightly, his ears flicking as if in acknowledgement, but otherwise, he seems completely unbothered.

Lilia is the first to clear her throat. Eddie coughs. Alice shifts uncomfortably. Jen just smirks, taking a slow sip of her drink as if she knows exactly what’s happening—and that she’s not the one who won this little game.

You barely have time to process the shift before another presence joins you—heat at your other side, softer but no less overwhelming. Rio presses in close, her breath a whisper of warmth against the shell of your ear, her lips just shy of touching.

“Say goodnight, sweetheart,” she tells you, voice thick with something that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your breath catches, the sudden intensity making your head spin. It’s not that you don’t know what’s happening; it’s just that it’s happening so fast, so seamlessly, that your body is still struggling to catch up. There’s a pull, an inevitability in the way they move around you, a claim in the way they close in, blocking out the rest of the room until it’s just you and them.

Your mouth parts, but the words stick, caught somewhere between confusion and anticipation, between the slow thrum of excitement winding tight in your stomach and the heat creeping up your neck. You barely manage a stammered, “Uh—g-goodnight,” before Rio’s fingers ghost down your arm in silent praise, a teasing brush that makes your pulse stutter.

Jen, still lounged comfortably on the couch, lifts her glass in an easy, knowing salute, a smirk tugging at her lips. There’s amusement in her gaze, maybe even a bit of satisfaction—like she knew exactly what she was doing, like she knew what this would lead to. But she doesn’t push, doesn’t gloat. She simply watches.

Agatha meets her gaze with a single, sharp brow raise—nothing more, nothing less. A quiet warning wrapped in a glance, a silent you got your fun, now she’s ours.

Then, without another word, Agatha guides you forward, her hold on your waist unrelenting, leading you away from the dim glow of the living room and into the deeper, darker warmth of the house.

Upstairs.

To their room.

—

The door has barely shut before Agatha has you pinned against it. It isn’t rough, but it’s deliberate—controlled. A slow, calculated press of her body against yours, her presence overwhelming in a way that steals the breath right from your lungs. The wood is cool against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat curling low in your stomach and to the way her fingers trace down your sides, nails dragging in a whisper of sensation that makes you shiver.

Her lips are close—so close you can feel the warmth of her breath ghosting over your skin.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” She purrs, voice a knowing thing that winds tight around you. Her fingers tighten on your waist, pulling you in until there’s barely any space left between you. “Letting Jen touch you. Letting her look at you like that.”

The words aren’t a question. They’re a verdict. A confession she already knows you’ll make.

You can’t even form a thought before another touch finds you—this one softer but no less commanding. Rio’s fingers trail along your jaw, tilting your chin until you’re forced to meet her gaze. Her brown eyes gleam in the dim light, dark with something wicked, something hungry.

“Maybe we haven’t been reminding you who you belong to enough,” she ponders aloud, and there’s something almost playful in her tone, but underneath it there’s something far more dangerous.

Magic crackles between the three of you, thick and intoxicating, filling the air with a charge that sets your skin alight. It pulses beneath their fingertips and seeps into your bones.

Agatha’s nails press in just a little harder, a teasing scratch down your ribs. “That’s alright, darling,” she muses, her lips curving into a smirk that sends heat straight between your thighs. “We’ll just have to remind you.”

And you know with the way their bodies cage you in, with the way their magic hums against your skin like a living thing, that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

The air vibrates with something electric, something that thrums through your veins like a spell you have no control over. Agatha doesn’t need an incantation; just a flick of her fingers, a lazy curve of her lips, and suddenly, magic coalesces between you.

With a single, effortless motion of her wrist, the world shifts. Clothes dissolve into nothingness, vanishing in wisps of deep violet energy, unravelling at the seams like they were never there at all. Warmth rushes over your now-bare skin, a phantom caress where fabric had been just moments ago. You barely have a second to register the sudden exposure before a new sensation takes its place.

It takes shape in a slow, pulsing shimmer, raw energy forged into something solid, something thick and heavy. The last remnants of magic glowing faintly around the shaft make your breath catch.

Agatha tilts her head, watching you with a knowing smirk. “Since you were so eager for attention today,” she purrs, tapping the tip of her newly conjured cock against your thigh. “Why don’t you show us how desperate you really are?”

Heat floods through you, pooling deep in your core, making your knees weak.

Rio hums from where she lounges on the bed, one leg draped over the other, fingers tapping idly against her thigh as she watches. Amusement flickers in her eyes, but beneath it—beneath it is something darker, something that makes your pulse pound in your throat.

“Go on, sweetheart,” she murmurs, tilting her head. “Show us.”

Agatha’s hands find your waist, steadying you, guiding you onto her lap. Her skin is soft beneath your palms as you brace yourself against her shoulders, heat radiating from her in waves.

Then she pushes you down slowly, deliberately, and her cock slides into you, stretching you inch by inch. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as it fills you perfectly like it was made for you, like she knew exactly how to shape it to hit every aching, sensitive part of you.

Agatha’s nails press into your hips, holding you there, keeping you still even as your body trembles with the need to move.

“So pretty when you’re taking what we give you,” she notes, voice like velvet, dark and dripping with satisfaction. Her lips ghost over your throat, breath warm and teasing, as if she’s considering sinking her teeth in.

A choked whimper escapes you as she rolls your hips, setting a slow, torturous rhythm, dragging you along the thick length of her in a way that has sparks dancing up your spine.

From the bed, Rio’s voice reaches you, smooth as silk. “Look at them, my love,” she muses, her gaze molten as she watches. “So eager.”

Her lips curl, wicked and indulgent, as one hand lifts effortlessly. Magic crackles in the air, a deep, searing green that pulses and solidifies, taking shape in her palm. A thick, glistening length, forged from pure energy, larger than Agatha’s but just as intoxicating.

She wraps her fingers around it, stroking slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving you. The motion is unhurried, teasing, as if she’s savouring the anticipation, the way your breath catches, the way your thighs press together unconsciously.

“Let’s see how long you can last,” she purrs, heat and promise dripping from every word.

Agatha’s grip on your hips tightens, keeping you exactly where she wants you—trapped in the slow, torturous grind she’s set. Her cock twitches, responding to every shift of your body, pulsing with a pleasure that borders on overwhelming. Every drag, every deep thrust, sends sparks of sensation curling up your spine, heat coiling tighter in your stomach.

Her mouth never strays far from your throat, her breath a teasing whisper against your skin. “You feel that?” she murmurs, rolling your hips just a little sharper, just enough to have you gasping. “Every inch of you stretched so perfectly, taking what I give you.”

A whimper catches in your throat as your fingers dig into her shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto, something to anchor yourself against the immeasurable pleasure. But Agatha only smirks, amusement flickering in her sharp blue eyes as she watches you struggle between wanting to take more and barely holding on.

From the bed, Rio groans, a sound of both appreciation and impatience. “Mmph, fuck, look at you,” she breathes, her own desire evident in the low rasp of her voice. “So pretty when you’re like this—so needy.”

Your gaze flickers toward her, drawn by the hunger in her tone. She’s sprawled against the sheets, her chest rising and falling in deep, uneven breaths. But it’s her hands that make your pulse stutter; one is gripping the sheets for control, the other is wrapped around her own summoned length, stroking rapidly. Each slick glide of her palm is deliberate, hungry, her grip tightening as she watches you. She’s panting, barely holding herself back, jaw clenched, muscles taut as if restraining the urge to take you right then and there.

The sight of her like this—wrecked and wanting—sends a bolt of heat through you, your body reacting instinctively, clenching hard around Agatha’s magic cock inside you. Agatha notices immediately. A sharp inhale, a dark chuckle, and then—her fingers dig into your hips, nails biting deliciously into your skin as she drags you down further, rougher this time, forcing you to take every inch.

The sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness, rips a cry from your lips, your head falling forward onto her shoulder. But Agatha only hums, pleased. “Take what you’re given.”

“Is this what you wanted?” Rio taunts, her voice smooth and dangerous. “To be fucked like this? To let her flirt with you all night while you waited for us to put you back in your place?”

It’s too much and not enough, all at once. The pleasure is searing, magic rolling over your skin in heated waves, and you’re on the edge—so unbelievable close. You arch against her, hands fisting in her hair, eyes fluttering shut as you—

“Not yet,” Agatha tuts, slowing your movements, keeping you just barely from tipping over the edge. “You’ll cum when we say you can.”

A desperate sound slips from your lips, but she only chuckles, dragging you into one last, deep roll of your hips before finally stilling you in her lap. You’re trembling, breath ragged, body thrumming with need.

Agatha strokes a hand up your spine, soothing despite the wicked smirk she wears. “That’s enough—for now.” Then, softer, close enough that her lips brush your ear, she whispers, “Now, be a good thing and let Rio have her turn.”

The words send another shiver through you, but before you can fully process them, strong hands are on your waist, guiding you to your feet.

Agatha’s grip is firm and unyielding as she manoeuvres you effortlessly onto the bed. Rio’s hands replace Agatha’s as they press against your hips, steadying you as they shift your position. Before you realise what’s happening, you’re being bent over the edge of the bed, your knees sinking into the mattress, your palms bracing against the sheets. The cool air against your heated skin sends a shudder through you, anticipation coiling tight in your belly.

Rio moves behind you, her body flush against yours, the solid heat of her presence a stark contrast to the chill of the room. There’s no hesitation as she presses into you, her chest warm against your back, her breath ghosting over your shoulder as her hands map slow, possessive paths over your body. Her fingers trace over the curve of your waist, down your stomach, teasing lower, skimming over sensitive skin still thrumming from Agatha’s touch.

“You’re shaking, sweetheart,” she teases, the amusement laced with dark satisfaction. “Let’s see just how much more you can take.”

Her hand dips lower between your legs. A sharp gasp escapes you as she gently strokes your clit, teasing, spreading you just a little more.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before she’s pressing the tip of her cock against you, not pushing in yet—just waiting, letting you feel the heat radiating from it, the pulsing energy that matches the pounding of your own heartbeat.

Her lips brush your ear, her free hand coming up to rest against your throat, fingers curling just enough to remind you who’s in control. “Gonna make sure you can’t even think about anyone else,” she promises, voice dripping with possession.

Rio doesn’t rush; she never does. She starts to push herself in, stretching you open, inch by inch, the heat of her magic cock thrumming inside you, making you feel every inch of its pulsing weight. Your body shudders against her, muscles trembling from the unrelenting pleasure already coursing through you, but she only chuckles, low and satisfied.

“That’s it,” she murmurs against your skin, teeth grazing your shoulder. “Take it all. Let me feel you, my love.”

Her hands roam—one splayed possessively over your stomach, pressing down just enough to make you feel how deep she is, the other tracing up your chest, over your throat, to grip your chin. She tilts your head back, forcing you to meet Agatha’s gaze.

The older witch watches you with something like reverence, sharp blue eyes heavy-lidded, lips curved in a knowing smirk. Her fingers brush the damp skin of your flushed cheeks. “Still with us?”

You can’t answer—can barely think—because Rio starts moving. A slow, deep pull before she thrusts back in, setting a rhythm that has you gasping, back arching against her. The heat of her magic rolls over your skin, intoxicating and overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with every snap of her hips.

Her breath is hot against your ear, her voice dark and possessive. “No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else gets to hear these pretty sounds.”

Agatha leans in, tracing a thumb over your parted lips before slipping it into your mouth. “So perfect when you’re like this,” she hums, watching the way you instinctively suck, tongue swirling over her thumb. “Our pathetic, pretty, little slut.”

They move together, Agatha’s hands guiding your hips, Rio fucking into you deep and steady, drawing out every little noise, every desperate twitch of your body. It’s too much, too good, pleasure curling so tight inside you it’s almost painful.

And then they switch.

You don’t even have time to process it before you’re back in Agatha’s lap, her cock filling you once again, stretching you perfectly as Rio moves in front of you, fisting your hair to tip your head back.

Their hands roam—Agatha’s grip unyielding on your hips, Rio’s fingers tracing your throat and your lips, her gaze dark and hungry as she watches you fall apart between them.

Again and again, they take you, switching, repositioning, and fucking you until your body is trembling, your voice breaking on gasps and whimpers. Until your skin is slick with sweat, muscles twitching from overstimulation, nerves frayed and buzzing with raw pleasure.

Rio is the one to finally allow you to cum.

You're on your knees, straddling Agatha, your thighs trembling as you try to hold yourself up. Beneath you, Agatha leans back against the headboard, watching you with dark, hooded eyes, her hands gripping your waist as if she has no intention of letting you escape. Her nails dig into your skin, keeping you exactly where she wants you.

Behind you, Rio is relentless. She pounds into you, each deep thrust forcing you forward, pressing you harder against Agatha’s body. The room is thick with heat, with the slick sounds of skin meeting skin, with Rio’s panting breaths and the quiet, pleased hums from Agatha as she watches you fall apart between them.

Agatha’s fingers trail up your spine, slow and teasing, before wrapping around your throat, tilting your head down so you’re forced to meet her gaze. “Completely ours.”

Then, Rio cups your face from behind, her fingers warm, her thumb tracing your lower lip in a slow, tantalising glide. She leans in, her breath hot against your ear, her voice thick with command and something sweeter—something indulgent.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” she coaxes. “You can let go for us now.”

Agatha’s mouth ghosts over your skin, her nails digging into your hips as her voice turns sharp, electric with command. “Cum for us, you desperate little thing. Show us who you fucking belong to.”

The command shatters you.

Your body seizes up, pleasure slamming into you so hard it knocks the breath from your lungs, your vision going white. Heat erupts from deep inside you, a gush of wetness spilling over Agatha’s thighs, soaking her completely.

Rio groans, dark and satisfied, watching you unravel.

Agatha hums, pleased, dragging her fingers through the mess between your thighs before bringing them to her lips, tasting you with a satisfied smirk.

“Now that,” she chuckles, her voice dripping with pride, “was beautiful.”

Your body trembles; you can barely hold yourself up as Agatha strokes slow circles into your hips, her touch grounding. Under you, her thighs (and the bedsheets) are soaked with your arousal, her blue eyes hooded with satisfaction as she watches you struggle to catch your breath.

And then Rio thrusts one last time, burying herself to the hilt with a low, guttural grunt. Her arms tighten around you, muscles tensing as she finds her own release. A shudder racks her frame, and you feel it—all of it—spilling deep inside, filling you in a way that makes your body clench around her in aftershocks.

She holds you there, pressed flush against her, breath hot against your neck. “Fuck,” she mutters, voice thick and satisfied, lips ghosting along your damp skin.

Agatha hums, trailing her fingers through the mess between your thighs, bringing it to her lips with a wicked smirk. “Beautiful.”

Rio’s laughter is low and sinful, a slow drawl of amusement as she watches the way your body still trembles, the way slick drips down your thighs, glistening in the dim light. “Look at you,” she coos, fingers skimming possessively over your lower back. “Absolutely pathetic.”

In a flash, Agatha’s hands are in your hair, firm enough to make her point as she pushes you forward. With a displeased grunt, your cheek is pressed against the soaked sheets, the scent of your own release thick in the air.

“Making such a mess,” Agatha tuts, her voice laced with mock sympathy. Her nails scrape lightly down your spine. “Like a needy little thing who can’t help themselves. Is that what you are, hmm?”

Rio leans down, her breath warm against your ear as she adds, “Did you even realise how much you were dripping? Fucking soaking the bed like a desperate little slut.” Her fingers trace over the damp imprint you’ve left behind, and she chuckles. “And it’s all because of us. Only we can make you lose control like that.”

Agatha’s fingers grip your chin, tilting your face up just enough for her to smirk down at you. “But you like this, don’t you?” she jibes, rubbing a thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. “Being used. Being ruined. Being ours.”

And despite the teasing, despite the way they taunt, there’s something else lingering beneath it—a kind of satisfaction, a wicked pride that it was them who made you break like this.

In a complete switch of character, soft hands start to guide you away from the bed, leading you into the bathroom. Your legs nearly give out as you stand, but Agatha steadies you with a knowing chuckle. “Oh, darling. You’re completely wrecked, aren’t you?”

Rio presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, her arms wrapping around your waist. “You did so well for us.”

Warm water surrounds you as they pull you into the shower, Agatha sliding in behind you while Rio hovers at the edge, running a washcloth over your body with slow, deliberate care. Every touch is gentle now, a stark contrast to their earlier intensity.

Agatha hums as she combs fingers through your damp hair. “Still with us, love?”

You nod, sinking further against her, completely pliant as Rio finishes cleaning between your legs, her touch featherlight. She grins when you whimper, placing a teasing kiss to your knee. “Sensitive?”

You glare at her, but it lacks any real heat.

When they’re satisfied that you’re clean, they literally carry you back to bed because your legs still aren’t working properly. Agatha tucks you between them, her fingers trailing lazily along your arm as Rio curls herself around your back, her chest warm against you.

For a moment, it’s peace.

Until you feel something hard press against your oversensitive clit.

Your breath catches as you shift, feeling the unmistakable shape of Rio’s length rubbing against you, already slick from the mess between your thighs. She doesn’t move—just lets it rest there, pulsing, waiting.

When you don’t protest, Rio rolls her hips forward, pushing inside you with a smooth, deliberate thrust.

Your body jolts, a whimper escaping as the stretch burns just right, still sensitive from before. Every nerve is raw, overstimulated, yet the moment Rio moves, your body betrays you—clenching around her, desperate despite the exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs.

She groans, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder, her lips hot against your sweat-damp skin. “Sorry,” she breathes, though there’s no real remorse in her voice. Only hunger. Only possession. Her arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. “Couldn’t help myself. You feel too good.”

And then she moves again.

Slow at first, rolling her hips against you, stretching you open all over again, but the drag is too much, too intoxicating, and she quickly loses patience. Her thrusts grow rougher and deeper, pressing you down into the mattress as she chases her pleasure.

One of her hands slides down, pressing against your lower stomach, feeling how deep she is and how your body takes her so perfectly. “Fuck,” she grits out, her voice breaking into something desperate, something raw. “You were made for this, made for my cock.”

She buries herself to the hilt, grinding deep as her breath stutters, her grip on you bruising. A low, guttural groan spills from her lips as she spills inside, heat flooding you, filling you up in a way that makes your body arch, whimpering at the sensation. But she doesn’t pull out.

If anything, she shifts closer, wrapping herself around you, securing you in her grip, arms banding around your waist as if she could sink deeper, as if she could mould you to her, and her cock twitches inside you softening slightly.

Agatha chuckles beside you, lazy satisfaction dripping from her voice as she drags her nails down your stomach, the sensation sending another shiver through your overstimulated body. “Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes, her amusement laced with something dark, something final. She leans in, lips brushing yours as she purrs, “You’re staying like this all night.”

Rio hums in agreement, a deep, satisfied sound as she strokes your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “So when you wake up,” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin, “the first thing you feel is us.”

And just like that, you’re pulled deeper into their warmth, into the comforting weight of them around (and inside) you.

—

When you wake the next morning, every part of you aches—a deep, satisfying soreness that lingers in your muscles, in the tender places where hands had held you down, where teeth had marked you.

You shift slightly, stretching—and then you feel it.

The fullness between your legs, still there, still hot, still hard.

A quiet groan vibrates against your skin, and you realise Rio is awake, her breath warm against your shoulder.

Agatha is watching from her side of the bed, propped up on an elbow, smirking down at you. “Morning, darling,” she purrs, looking far too amused.

Rio presses a slow, lazy kiss to your shoulder, her hips shifting slightly. “Sleep well?” She grumbles, her voice still husky with sleep.

Your breath stutters, your body already reacting despite the oversensitivity, and heat sparking low in your belly.

Agatha hums, brushing a teasing hand down your stomach, nails grazing over your skin. “Oh, sweetheart,” she coos. “We’re not done with you yet.”

And just like that, the morning is off to a very good start.

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Ugh, I finally remembered to include the diva that it señor scratchy in my writing, I've been meaning to do it every time because I love that guy 😭😭

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