#<- seen a few titles for this bad boy

[pjsk-story-summaries]

Keep it Steady, Let's Aim for the Stars! Event Summary (WxS World Link)

TL;DR: Wonderlands x Showtime and the Virtual Singers encounter a strange, bustling new harbor area in the Wonderland SEKAI. While exploring, they find a map to a place called Star Island. However, a gust of wind blows the map away, only to be caught in the wings of a giant Phoenix. The group decides to chase after the Phoenix to recover the map.

While asking around the harbor for information, Rui, Rin, and Miku encounter a group of lonely zombie plushies. The rest of the plushies were scared of them due to their off-putting nature and tendency to bite as a greeting. Rui recognized himself in the way the plushies had convinced themselves that they were better on their own since nobody would understand them anyways, and vows to help them. With the help of the other Virutal Singers and his troupe, they put on a modified version of the Potato Ghost story to show the other plushies the zombies just wanted to be friends. As a reward, they learn that someone who knows about the Phoenix lives nearby.

Unfortunately, a large river blocks their path forward. Turtle plushies ferry others to the other bank, but at the moment, they're all too busy to take them. Nene and Luka come across an anxious turtle who dreams to one day ferry others across the river but is too scared to get in. Nene recognizes that fear, and with a little encouragement, tells the turtle about her own experience. She'd messed up before and was too scared to step on stage, but even so, she'd never stopped dreaming. Things are still scary, but the most important things are to find the courage to take the first step, friends to push you along, and the will to keep going. Moved by Nene's words, the turtle plushie manages to face their fear and enters the water. Thankful, they decide to take the rest of the group across the river.

Once across, they arrive at the house of Leon, a stuffed lion who's long studied the Phoenix. He tells them all about the Phoenix, as well as his dream to one day fly alongside Phoenix. He knows his dream is impossible, though. Emu, remembering how she had once felt in regards to the Wonder Stage and Phoenix Wonderland, cheers Leon up. As long as you hold your dream close and keep friends by your side, there's no problem you can't find a way to solve! Her words motivate Leon to not give up. The gang all follow him to the place Phoenix is most commonly seen.

After a bit of waiting, Phoenix flies down to greet them. Phoenix agrees to carry Leon, on the condition that they catch Phoenix flying in the sky first. Rui modifies Robonene to be able to leap high in the air, but she only has three chances and requires someone else to throw a net up. Tsukasa and Leon volunteer. The first two attempts fail, and Leon begins to doubt himself. Tsukasa, reminded of his own feelings of inadequacy, teaches Leon to turn those feelings into fuel. On the third and final attempt, though Phoenix dodges the net, Tsukasa leaps up and just barely grazes Phoenix. Though they failed their mission, Phoenix, impressed by their tenacity, promises to let Leon ride on Phoenix's back if they do manage to catch Phoenix one day. Phoenix also returns the map as a reward for their efforts.

Back at the harbor, the group inspects the map. They realize the different islands represent the shows they've done, and the various unmarked ones places they have yet to see. Tsukasa also comes to realize that the ship represents his evolving dream to "Aim for stardom, and together with my friends, we will embark on our journey of growth to many places". They try to sail towards Star Island, but the currents push them back. One day, once they've become true stars, they'll be able to sail there.

A plant bud blooms in the harbor.

Fan Translation (source: WxS translation team) / Second Focus Song (Tetrad that Illuminates the World) 3DMV / 2DMV

Opening: The Virtual Singers had called Wonderlands x Showtime (and Nenerobo) to the strange new harbor town Rin and Len had found in the SEKAI. KAITO theorizes that Tsukasa's evolving feelings may have manifested this place, but none of them know what those feelings might be. They decide to explore and learn more. Len realizes they can board the ship on the harbor, and Emu finds a strange map inside. Upon inspection, they learn there are many islands scattered about, leading to a grand one called Star Island. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blows the map away. A grand Phoenix swoops down, and the map gets caught within the Phoenix's wings. The troupe decide to chase after the Phoenix and reclaim the map.

Rui Chapter 1: They start by talking to many plushies around the harbor town; however, none of them have seen the Phoenix. When talking to the innkeeper, Rui, Miku, and Rin learn the wide variety of plushies are visitors from the various islands. They come across a group of run down zombie plushies off on their own. The rest of the plushies are scared of them, since they have "twisted personalities" and bite when approached. The innkeeper tells the three that those zombies mean no harm; it's just how they greet people.

Rui decides to approach the zombies, letting them bite him and him biting back. The zombies don't trust Rui, however; they fear he's just pretending to be their friend to get what he wants, since everyone else is scared of them. They know they won't ever fit in with the others. Rui realizes they're just like he was back then.

Rui Chapter 2: Rui explains how he had given up on ever trying to fit in, since he thought nothing would ever change. However after meeting Tsukasa, Emu, Nene, and the others, he realized just how much he truly wanted to perform with others. He's changed since then; he even fought for his selfish wish to stay together as a troupe. Miku tells him his dream isn't selfish at all. Rui decides to help the zombies get along with the others, since he knows they don't actually want to be alone like they say they do.

He gathers the zombies, as well as the rest of his troupe, and puts on a modified version of the Potato Ghost play from "It's On! Wonder Halloween!". The show helps the other plushies realize the zombies were just trying to be friends, and that there truly isn't anything to be scared of. Rui reflects on the power of shows and how they truly can connect others. With that, the zombies reveal that someone who knows about the Phoenix lives nearby.

Nene Chapter 1: A large river blocks the path between them and the one who knows about the Phoenix. Turtle plushies often ferry others to the other side, but they're all currently busy. They split up to go try and find an available one. Nene and Luka stumble upon a shy turtle who's dream is to ferry others, but after a storm flooded the area, it's now too scared to swim. Nene understands what it feels like to be terrified, but still unable to give up dreaming. Luka urges Nene to talk to the turtle.

Nene Chapter 2: Nene approaches the other turtle, and with reassurance from Luka, explains how she dreams of being a world-renowned actor, but after she'd forgotten her lines as a kid, became too scared to stand on stage again. She's still scared of a lot of things, especially the future, but she knows it's important to find the courage to move forward anyways. (It helps to have friends alongside you to give a push). The most important thing is the courage to take the first step.

Moved by Nene's words, the turtle successfully gets into the river. They then happily swim with Nene around the bay before taking the rest of Wonderlands x Showtime to the other side of the river. Nene reflects on how the future will be scary, but as long as she keeps moving forward with courage, she'll be alright.

Emu Chapter 1: The gang arrives at the house and greet the one who knows about Phoenix, a stuffed lion named Leon. Emu explains their situation, and Leon agrees to help! He's been researching the Phoenix, who's revealed to hail from Star Island, for a long time now. Leon's dream is to fly alongside the Phoenix one day, but he knows it's impossible. Everyone around him says so. That statement reminded Emu of the time she'd felt the same, when Shosuke told her her dream to save Phoenix Wonderland's image was impossible.

Emu Chapter 2: Emu reassures Leon that it's important to have dreams, no matter how impossible they may seem. As long as you hold your dreams close, you'll find a way to make them reality! She knows what it's like to not be able to achieve your dreams, her friends gave her the courage to not give up and worked together to make them come true. It's all about working together!

Moved by Emu's words, Leon decides to ask the others to help him fly with the Phoenix. Len suggests that he tries asking to fly on the back of the Phoenix. The group all follows Leon to a place where the Phoenix is most likely to be. While leaving, Len comments on Emu's ability to make everyone smile, and how she'll be able to spread that all across the world now.

Tsukasa Chapter 1: While waiting for the Phoenix, Tsukasa realizes he and Leon have similar dreams of chasing the impossible. Suddenly, the Phoenix arrives, so Tsukasa yells for Phoenix to come down. Leon explains his dream to Phoenix, but Phoenix refuses. Tsukasa refuses to leave, however. Phoenix decides to comply, but only if they manage to catch Phoenix flying in the sky. Len suggests using a net, like the one they'd used to catch Lion Dance Robot. Rui decides to modify Robonene so that she can leap up great distances, almost as if she were flying. However, she's limited to three jumps, and she can't throw the net herself. Leon volunteers to throw the net, so Tsukasa decides to go with him.

Tsukasa Chapter 2: After a bit of practice, Leon and Tsukasa are ready to go. On their first attempt, the wind blows the net off course. On the second, Leon throws too early and the net misses. Leon apologizes and begins to doubt himself. Tsukasa knows what it's like to want something so desperately but not be close enough to grasp it, remembering back to his feelings over Rio. He knows dreams aren't things to be extinguished so easily. Take that pain, embrace it, and turn it into the fuel to chase them! No matter what happens, the others will be there for them.

Motivated once again, Nenerobo leaps with Leon and Tsukasa for the final attempt. They get close, but Phoenix dodges the net. With one last ditch effort, Tsukasa jumps out of Nenerobo's arms and just barelt touches Phoenix before falling back to the ground. Emu notices one of Phoenix's feathers stuck to his back. Phoenix flies down to great them. Though the others didn't manage to capture Phoenix, Phoenix is impressed by their tenacity. If they manage to one day catch Phoenix, Phoenix promises to let them fly on Phoenix's back. Before flying off, Phoenix returns the map as a reward for the touch. Both Tsukasa and Leon resolve to keep chasing their dreams.

Closing: The group inspects the map further, realizing some islands are marked with references to shows they'd done in the past, while others remain unmarked. KAITO guesses that the ship has gone on it's own journey towards Star Island, just like the others have been chasing stardom. Tsukasa realizes that his feelings have evolved to take the form of "Aim for stardom, and together with my friends, we will embark on our journey of growth to many places".

Emu decides to try sailing the ship to Star Island. Together with the help of the harbor's plushies, they push the ship out to the water. However, the currents keep pushing them back to the harbor. Though they can't go yet, Miku is certain they'll be able to make it someday. Tsukasa dubs the ship, "Pegasus Special Deluxe Wonder" as he asks the others to continue moving forward towards their dreams.

A plant bud blooms near the ship.

[Note: Since multiple translators worked on this event, there are variances in how the new characters are translated. Specifically, Phoenix is referred to with both he and she pronouns by other characters, and Leon is also called Rion. I avoided pronoun use for Phoenix and used the localized Leon since it looks closest to "lion". When this event runs on the EN server, I will update this with their official naming conventions.]

[harrysfolklore]

misunderstood hero with a heart of gold - mv1

summary: max verstappen has never been one to read books, but everything changes when he comes across a pretty booktuber who describes him better than anyone else did before

word count: 8.2k + social media posts

folkie radio: another one of my babies finally sees the light of day 🥹 this fic is really special and i was lowkey gatekeeping it but i feel ready to share it, plss take care of it <3 i hope you like it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Max Verstappen was bored.

It was late and he was alone in his hotel room. He had a race the following day and he knew better than staying up late. His team was already on his ass for sim racing at ungodly hours of the night when he had a race, but nevertheless, he was bored and not sleepy yet.

He scrolled through his phone, not really paying attention to what popped up on his Instagram feed, Tiktok for you page or Twitter timeline.

After a few minutes, his finger landed on the YouTube app, one that he barely used if he was completely honest, but for some reason he never deleted it.

A bunch of videos showed up on his main page, most of them about F1, gaming, fitness or cats. He scrolled through the thumbnails absentmindedly until one title caught his eye: "Formula 1 Drivers as Romance Book Character Tropes."

Max had no idea how that video ended up in his suggestions page. He wasn't much of a reader—he had only read two books in his entire life, for crying out loud— but curiosity got the better of him. He clicked on the video.

The screen shifted to a bright and lively setup, where a young woman with vibrant energy and a contagious smile greeted her viewers. "Hey everyone! Welcome back to my channel. Today, we have a fun video where I'll be pairing Formula 1 drivers with romance book tropes!"

Max found himself smiling for some reason, he thought she was really engaging and funny — and really pretty—. He leaned back against his pillows, more intrigued by the second.

"As some of you might already know, books are not my only passion, I'm also a huge Formula 1 fan since I was a little kid thanks to my dad, so I thought it would be fun to do a little crossover of my two obsessions."

Max grinned again, finding himself oddly invested in this unexpected combination of romance literature and Formula 1. Or maybe just mesmerized by the pretty girl who was talking on his screen.

"Let's begin with Mercedes," she said, clapping her hands together, "Lewis Hamilton is definitely our 'Charming Prince Charming.' He's got the looks, the talent, and that air of royalty about him."

Max chuckled, thinking it was a fitting description for his rival.

"Now for George Russell," she continued, "I'm going with 'The Boy Next Door Who Grew Up Hot.' I mean, have you seen his glow-up?"

Max chuckled again, nodding in agreement. George had indeed transformed quite a bit since his Williams days.

"Moving on to Ferrari," she continued enthusiastically. Max wondered if that was her favorite team on the grid, "Charles Leclerc is our classic 'Childhood Best Friend You've Always Had a Crush On.' He's got that sweet, familiar charm, but with a spark that makes your heart race every time you see him."

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the change in description. He had to admit, it fit Charles quite well.

"And for Carlos Sainz," she paused dramatically, "he's either our 'Older Brother's Best Friend' or the 'Bad Guy Who's Mean to Everyone but His Sweetheart', just think about it, he's got that rugged exterior, but you just know he's a total sweetheart deep down."

Max laughed, realizing she had Carlos pegged perfectly. He watched with growing interest as she continued.

"Now, let's talk about McLaren," she said with a sparkle in her eye. "Lando Norris is our 'Adorkable Comedian Who Steals Your Heart.' He's funny, relatable, and has a way of making you fall for him before you even realize it," Max grinned at the description of his good friend, "And Oscar Piastri... he's 'The Shy Genius.' Quiet, reserved, but incredibly talented and intelligent. He might not be the loudest in the room, but he's someone you'd definitely want on your side."

Max nodded in agreement, thinking of how Oscar had impressed everyone since joining McLaren. She continued pairing each driver with a character trope, she described Daniel as the "Life of the Party with a Sensitive Soul," highlighting his infectious energy and hidden depths. Pierre was dubbed the "Resilient Underdog," emphasizing his ability to bounce back from setbacks. Yuki was described as the "Fiery Spitfire with a Soft Center" and Logan was labeled the "Rookie with Untapped Potential," suggesting a character arc of growth and discovery.

With each driver's description, Max's anticipation grew. He found himself eagerly awaiting his own characterization, both curious and slightly apprehensive about how the pretty girl with an obsession with books and Formula 1 would describe him.

When she finally got to Red Bull, he sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued.

"Now for Sergio Perez," she said, "he's our 'Loyal Wingman Who Deserves His Own Happy Ending.' Always there to support, but with a story of his own waiting to be told."

Max nodded, thinking it was a pretty accurate description of his teammate.

"And finally, saved the best for last," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we have Max Verstappen."

Max held his breath, oddly nervous about how this stranger would categorize him.

"Max is our 'Misunderstood Hero with a Heart of Gold,'" she said with a warm smile. "Often perceived as cold or distant, but actually deeply caring and protective of those close to him. He's the type who shows his love through actions rather than words."

Max felt his cheeks warm significantly. This description caught him completely off guard. It wasn't the usual 'aggressive driver' or 'arrogant champion' narrative he was used to hearing. Instead, it felt... true. Uncomfortably true. He wasn't sure how to feel about being seen so accurately by a stranger.

As the video ended after she said her goodbyes, Max found himself staring at his phone screen, replaying her words in his mind, his thumb hovering over the comment section. He had never left a comment on a YouTube video before, but something about this one compelled him to break that habit.

After a moment's hesitation, he tapped the comment box and began typing, Once he was done, he paused, reading over his words. It felt strange, almost vulnerable, to acknowledge her characterization of him. But there was also something liberating about it. He added a thumbs-up emoji at the end and hit 'Post' before he could second-guess himself.

As Max set his phone down and settled into bed, a small smile played on his lips. He had a important race the following day, but all he wanted to think and dream about was the pretty stranger who had somehow seen through his carefully crafted public persona.

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liked by username1, username2 and 10,725 others

f1gossip “I went to bed early last night. Just listened to the team’s orders, you know?”

Max Verstappen for media day today, however he left a comment on a YouTube video around 2:46 am 😭

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username1 HES SOOOOO

username2 the fact that he left a comment on a BOOKTUBER’S channel MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU DONT EVEN READ BOOKS 😭

username3 he looks so pretty tho

username4 MAX WE ALL SAW YOU

username5 max was actually checking which romance trope is him according to booktubers

username6 HES SO RANDOM

username7 max’s search history: lestappen as fictional couples

liked by username1, username2 and 102,438 others

ynreadsbooks in honor of max verstappen x3 world champion commenting on my latest video (which is insane to say out loud wtf) should i do another f1 themed video?? any suggestions?

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username1 YES QUEEN

username2 that max comment was so random but so real

username3 max verstappen, the man who has read two books in 27 years watching booktubers was not on my bingo card

username4 @/maxverstappen1 you favorite youtuber will do another video about you

username5 BOOKS WITH RACING THEMES

username6 books inspired by f1 circuits would be fun

username7 @/maxverstappen drop a suggestion

maxverstappen1 started following ynreadsbooks

liked by username1, username2 and 15,836 others

f1gossip Max Verstappen was seen outside of a bookshop in Monaco today !

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username1 BABYYYY

username2 max ??? bookshop ????

username3 WHAT SHIFTED

username4 he thought it was jimmyz

username5 HEELPP what is he doing there

username6 hello i work there. he arrived with a list of books in hand that he wanted, he bought around 15 action and fantasy books

↳ username1 FOR REAL???

↳ username2 max said book girl summer

↳ username3 this is so random

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If someone had told Max that this year he would spend his summer break reading, he would've laughed at their faces. Yet here he was, lounging by the pool in his Monaco house, a book in his hands and a smile on his face.

As he turned the page of "The Martian," the latest sci-fi recommendation from YN, Max couldn't help but reflect on how different this summer break was.

Usually, his days off were filled with lavish yacht parties, exclusive clubs, or intense training sessions and hours of sim racing to stay sharp for the second half of the season. But now, he found himself eagerly devouring books and spending hours chatting with YN about plots, characters, and everything in between.

As the weeks passed, Max found himself growing increasingly close to YN, despite never having met her in person. Their text conversations flowed effortlessly, ranging from in-depth discussions about the books they were reading to playful banter about racing and life in general.

Max was surprised by how much he enjoyed her company, even in this digital form. Her wit, intelligence, and genuine interest in his thoughts beyond his racing persona were refreshing. He found himself sharing things he rarely discussed with others, and looking forward to her messages became a highlight of his day.

He also thought she was absolutely gorgeous.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed with a new message from her.

Max chuckled, about to reply when he heard the doorbell. He remembered Lando and Daniel were coming over for dinner. As he got up to let them in, he quickly typed a response, telling her that he would talk to her later.

"Well, well, well," Daniel's voice boomed as Max opened the door. "If it isn't the newly minted bookworm of Formula 1!"

Lando peered around Daniel's shoulder, "I half expected to find you wearing glasses and a sweater vest, mate."

"Very funny, guys. Come in," Max rolled his eyes as he stepped away from the door.

Ever since his friends noticed his brand new habit, they took it upon themselves to tease him whenever they could. As they made their way to the backyard, Daniel spotted the book on the lounger.

"The Martian?" he read, picking it up. "Isn't this a bit advanced for your reading level, Maxy?"

"Ha ha," Max deadpanned, snatching the book back. "It's actually really good. It's about this astronaut who gets stranded on Mars and has to use science and engineering to survive-"

"Whoa, whoa," Lando interrupted, holding up his hands. "Who are you and what have you done with Max Verstappen?"

Daniel draped an arm around Max's shoulders. "I think our boy here is trying to impress a certain bookish YouTuber. What was her name again? YN?"

Max felt his cheeks warm. "It's not like that. We just... talk about books and stuff."

"And stuff," Daniel repeated, wiggling his eyebrows. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Max rolled his eyes, trying to brush off their teasing. "Seriously, it's not like that. We just have a lot in common."

Daniel and Lando exchanged knowing glances before bursting into laughter.

"Sure, mate," Daniel said, patting Max on the back. "Whatever you say."

They settled by the pool, beers in hand, and started chatting about the upcoming races and their plans for the rest of the summer. Despite the playful ribbing, Max found himself genuinely enjoying their company. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his friends.

As the evening wore on, the conversation eventually circled back to Max's books and his little friend on his phone.

"So, Max," Lando started, a mischievous glint in his eye, "have you color-coded your bookshelf yet? Or are you more of a chronological order kind of guy?"

"Nah, mate. I bet he organizes them by how many times YN has mentioned them," Daniel chimed in, "Top shelf is probably her favorites, right Maxy?"

Max felt his cheeks flush, but he couldn't help grinning. "You two are impossible."

"When are you finally going to meet her in person anyway?" Lando said, sipping from his beer.

Max shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the slight flutter in his chest. "I don't know. That's not something I've really thought about,"

He lied. In truth, the thought of meeting YN had crossed his mind countless times. The idea of finally seeing the girl who had captivated him with her intelligence, humor, and beauty made his heart race. He'd catch himself daydreaming about her smile, wondering if it was as warm and infectious in person as it seemed in her videos. But he wasn't ready to admit that to his friends just yet.

Lando and Daniel exchanged a look, clearly not buying Max's nonchalant act.

"Oh come on," Lando scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You expect us to believe that? You've been glued to your phone for weeks, mate."

"I bet he's already planned their first date," Daniel leaned in, "What'll it be, Max? A romantic book reading by candlelight? Or maybe a visit to the library?"

Max felt his cheeks heating up again. "It's not like that, guys. We're just friends."

"Friends who talk every day and have you blushing like a schoolgirl," Lando teased, nudging Max with his elbow.

"I do not blush like a schoolgirl," Max protested, knowing full well that his face was probably bright red by now.

"Sure, sure," Daniel said with a wink. "Just friends. So, have you at least thought about inviting her to a race? You know, show her what you do when you're not reading about Mars?"

"Why would I invite her to a race, that would be weird," Max protested again, "And she already knows what I do, she's a fan of the sport."

"Man, you're so stubborn sometimes," Lando rolled his eyes at him, "If you like this girl, why don't you invite her to a race? It could be a great way to finally meet in person."

"And who said that I liked her," once again, Max's defensive self came through.

Daniel and Lando shared an exasperated look before turning back to Max.

"Come on, mate," Daniel said, his tone gentler now. "It's pretty obvious. We've never seen you this invested in someone before. Not to mention, you're reading books voluntarily for the first time since... well, ever."

"It's written all over your face," Lando said, shaking his head. "You like her, and there's no shame in that. You light up every time your phone buzzes. It's kind of adorable, actually."

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew his friends were right, but admitting it out loud felt like a big step. "Okay, fine. Maybe I do like her. But it's complicated, you know? We've never even met in person."

"That's exactly why you should invite her to a race," Lando insisted. "It's the perfect opportunity. She gets to see you in your element, and you get to finally meet face-to-face."

"Plus," Daniel added with a mischievous grin, "if things go well, you can always show her your trophy collection. I hear that's a great way to impress the ladies."

Max couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Maybe," Daniel shrugged, "but I'm also right. What have you got to lose?"

Max pondered this for a moment. The idea of meeting YN in person both thrilled and terrified him. What if they didn't click in real life the way they did over text? But then again, what if they did?

"I'll think about it," Max finally conceded.

Lando and Daniel exchanged triumphant grins.

"That's our boy," Lando said, patting his back.

After a few more beers and food, Lando and Daniel left.

As the night deepened, Max found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The conversation with Lando and Daniel kept replaying in his mind. His phone sat on the nightstand, silent but somehow still demanding his attention.

Max's thoughts raced. Should he text YN? Invite her to Zandvoort? The idea made his heart beat faster. He imagined seeing her in person for the first time, wondering if her smile would be as pretty as it was in her videos. But doubt crept in too. What if things were awkward? What if the chemistry they had online didn't translate to real life?

He rolled onto his side, eyeing his phone. The urge to reach out to her was strong, as it always was. Max realized that Lando and Daniel were right - he did like her. A lot. The thought of meeting her filled him with equal parts excitement and nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, Max grabbed his phone. Before he could overthink it, he started typing.

Hey YN, hope I'm not messaging too late. I was wondering if you'd like to come to the Dutch GP at Zandvoort? It's the first race after the summer break, and my home race. Thought it might be fun if you could make it.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself. The wait for her response felt eternal. When his phone finally buzzed, Max's heart leapt.

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liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 286,375 others

ynreadsbooks this week’s video will be delayed for some ~personal reasons ☺️

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username1 GIRL

username2 ARE YOU GOING WHERE I THINK YOU’RE GOING

username3 f1 x books this is literally me

username4 hot girls support max verstappen

username5 ahh if she’s going to the gp i’ll be so happy bc she’s a huge fan

username6 the way roles reversed and now max is his fan 😭

redbullracing We can’t wait 💙

↳ username1 REDBULL???

↳ username2 AHHH THEY PROBABLY INVITED HER

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As Max headed to Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix, he felt the familiar weight of expectations settling on his shoulders.

The second half of the season loomed ahead, and the pressure to maintain his championship lead was on. He knew the team was counting on him to deliver strong results, especially at his home race where the orange-clad fans would be out in full force.

But amidst the pressure and responsibility, there was another emotion bubbling up inside him - a giddy excitement that he couldn't quite contain.

The thought of finally meeting YN in person after months of texts, calls, and shared book recommendations made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with driving at a car at a very fast speed.

As he drove to the track, Max found himself smiling at random moments, his mind drifting to imagine what it would be like to see her smile in person, to hear her laugh without the filter of a phone call.

Max realized that for the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to a race weekend for reasons that extended beyond the track.

Unfortunately, his busy schedule kept them from meeting right away. Media commitments, team briefings, and practice sessions consumed his time, leaving him feeling frustrated and guilty for not being able to see her sooner. He sent her a quick message apologizing for the delay, promising they'd meet after qualifying.

As he made his way to the garage, a familiar voice called out behind him.

"Oi, Max! Ready for the big day?"

Max turned to see Daniel jogging up to him, his trademark grin in place.

"Yeah, should be a good quali," Max replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't talking about qualifying, mate. Your special guest arrives today, right?"

Max felt his cheeks warm. "How did you even remember that?"

"Please," Daniel scoffed. "It's all you've been talking about for weeks. So, have you met her yet?"

"No, my schedule's been packed. We're supposed to meet after quali."

"Ah, saving the best for last, eh?" Daniel's grin widened, "Smart move. Nothing like the adrenaline of a good qualifying session to make a great first impression."

"Or to completely mess it up," Max muttered.

"Hey, none of that," Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just be yourself. She already likes you for who you are, remember?"

Max nodded, feeling a bit reassured. "Thanks, Dan."

With a deep breath, Max headed into the garage, Daniel's words echoing in his mind.

Qualifying went smoothly, with Max securing a front row start to the delight of the Dutch fans. The cheers of the home crowd were deafening as he climbed out of the car, but his mind was elsewhere.

After the post-qualifying interviews, Max sent YN a quick text letting her know that he was free now and she let him know that she was around the hospitality area.

As he walked towards there, Max spotted YN standing near one of the motorhomes, looking around with wide eyes. She hadn't seen him yet, and for a moment, Max just watched her, taking in the sight of the girl who had been on his mind for months now.

She was even more gorgeous in person than he had imagined.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the bustling paddock around her. The way the sunlight caught her hair, the gentle curve of her smile as she observed everything with wonder - it all took Max's breath away.

He noticed little details he couldn't have seen through a screen: the way her eyes sparkled, the subtle freckles across her nose, the graceful way she moved as she looked around.

Taking a deep breath, Max walked over, his heart pounding. "YN?"

She turned, her face lighting up with a radiant smile that made Max's breath catch. "Max! Finally!"

They moved toward each other, and without hesitation, Max pulled her into a hug. The embrace felt natural, as if they'd done this a hundred times before. He was aware of how perfectly she fit in his arms, the subtle scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her body against his.

"It's so good to finally meet you," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so sorry it took so long, this weekend's been crazy."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with understanding in her eyes. "It's okay, Max. That qualifying was amazing! I've never experienced anything like it."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Come on, let me show you around."

He took her hand and he was struck by how natural it felt. Her fingers intertwined with his perfectly, and a warm sensation spread from their joined hands throughout his body.

They strolled through the paddock, Max pointing out the various team motorhomes, the garages, and the media center. YN was all wide-eyed fascination, asking questions and soaking in every detail. As they walked, Max found himself relaxing more and more, his previous nerves about their chemistry being gone fading away.

As they rounded a corner, they nearly bumped into Lando Norris. Who couldn't help but smirk at the sight of their hands intertwined.

"You guys met already!" he cheerfully said, "You must be YN."

Her cheeks flushed, clearly surprised that Max had mentioned her to his friends. Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her reaction.

"Yeah, this is YN," Max said, unable to keep the smile off his face, "Meet Lando, the perpetual pain in my ass."

"Nice to finally meet the girl who's got Max reading," YN laughed, and Lando extended his hand, "Quite the accomplishment."

"Nice to meet you too, Lando," YN said, shaking his hand. "I've enjoyed watching you race, I'm a big fan. Congrats on the pole position."

"Cheers," Lando replied, then turned to Max with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, has he bored you with car talk yet, or has he actually remembered how to discuss books?"

Max rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Shouldn't you be preparing for tomorrow, Lando?"

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," Lando chuckled. "Enjoy your tour, lovebirds!"

As Lando walked away, Max felt a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He glanced at YN, relieved to see her smiling.

"Sorry about him," Max said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Lando has a way of making everything awkward."

YN laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "It's fine. He seems like fun."

They continued their walk, finally making their way to the rooftop terrace of the Red Bull hospitality area. The view was stunning, offering a panoramic look at the circuit and the sea of orange-clad fans below.

"This is incredible," YN said, leaning against the railing and taking it all in. "Thank you for showing me around, Max."

"Of course," Max said, standing beside her. "I'm really glad you could come."

They stood there for a moment, enjoying the view and each other's company. Max felt a sense of contentment wash over him, the stress of the weekend melting away in her presence.

"Max," YN said softly, turning to face him. "I know this weekend is important for you, and I don't want to be a distraction. But I'm really happy to be here and to finally meet you."

"You're not a distraction," Max replied, reaching out to take her hand again. "You're the best part of this weekend, honestly."

They shared a smile, Max was well aware of the butterflies that fluttered on his stomach and the high school girl blush his friends teased him about, but he didn't care. He felt happy with the pretty girl who had been his source of comfort for months, finally face to face.

"You know," YN said softly, "when I made that video calling you a misunderstood hero with a heart of gold, I never imagined I'd get to see it firsthand. But being here, seeing how you are with your team, with the fans… I was right about you, Max Verstappen."

Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. He had always been guarded about his public image, but hearing her perspective meant more than he could ever imagine.

"I'm glad you think so," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You know, that video... it changed things for me. Not just because it led to us talking, but because it made me reflect on a lot of things."

"Who would've thought," YN said with a smile, "When I recorded that video, I never thought you would ever see it, let alone have an impact on you and let alone lead us to talking and me being here."

"Everything happens for a reason, right?"

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ynreadsbooks best experience ever. thank you, thank you, THANK YOU 🥺💙

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username1 OMFGGGG

username2 no one deserved this more than her for real

username3 SHE MET MAX TOO?? DESERVED

redbullracing Come back soon! ��

username4 red bull finally inviting people who actually love the sport

username5 GIRL WE NEED A VLOGGGG

username6 omg how did this happen spiiiill

↳ ynreadsbooks let's say i got invited by the world champion

↳ username1 WTF

↳ username2 so MAX invited her not redbull help he really did become a fan after that video

danielricciardo Hope to see you around soon, love ! 👀

↳ username3 how do i sign up for this

username7 THAT PIC OF MAX IS SO BOYFRIEND CODED

maxversteppen1 Thank you so much for coming and making this day special ☺️

↳ username1 OMG MAX

↳ username2 i'd be screaming if i was her

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maxverstappen1 Enjoyed every moment in Zandvoort with this amazing atmosphere and the best company 🧡

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username1 KIIING

username2 how can a man be so babygirl

username3 all smiles even tho he finished p2

danielricciardo 🦁🦁

landonorris Simply lovely

↳ username1 menace

username4 bro who got you smiling like that

ynreadsbooks ❤️

↳ username2 biggest max girlie

↳ username3 WE NEED THAT VLOG

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When it came time for YN to leave the Netherlands, Max insisted on driving her to the airport himself. The car ride was filled with comfortable silence and soft conversation, both of them trying to stretch out their remaining time together.

Despite their short time together, Max found himself completely smitten, captivated by YN's intelligence, humor, and the way her eyes lit up when she talked about books or reacted to the thrill of the race.

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was head over heels for her.

As they stood in the departure terminal, Max felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. He hesitated, his heart racing, but ultimately settled for a long, warm hug, breathing in her scent and committing it to memory. As he watched her walk through security, he already found himself missing her presence.

Now, a week later, Max was in Monza for the Italian Grand Prix. The day had been busy with media commitments and team meetings. Finally back in the quiet of his motorhome, Max flopped onto the couch, feeling drained but content. Without thinking, he reached for his phone and hit the FaceTime button next to YN's name.

Her smiling face appeared on the screen, and Max felt an immediate surge of warmth.

"Hey, you," she said, her voice soft and welcoming even through the phone's speakers.

"Hey," Max replied, unable to keep the grin off his face. "How's your day been?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Editing videos, reading, missing the excitement of the paddock," YN teased. "How about you? Surviving the media circus?"

"Barely," Max groaned dramatically, "I swear, if I have to answer one more question about RedBull and their big mess, I might go mad."

YN laughed, the sound making Max's heart skip a beat. "Poor Max. Whatever shall we do to take your mind off your beloved team?"

"Well," Max said, shifting to get more comfortable, "I've been reading that new sci-fi book you recommended. 'The Martian-like Odyssey to Titan,' or whatever it's called."

"'Project Hail Mary,'" she corrected, "And? What do you think so far?"

"It's incredible!" Max's eyes lit up, "I mean, the science is fascinating, and the way the main character problem-solves is just... I don't know, it reminds me a bit of what we do in racing, you know? Constantly adapting, finding solutions on the fly."

"That's exactly why I thought you'd like it! The way Andy Weir writes about scientific problem-solving is so engaging."

They dove into an animated discussion about the book, Max marveling at how easily conversation flowed between them, how YN's passion for books was infectious. As they talked, a thought that had been brewing in Max's mind for days suddenly surfaced.

"YN," Max said, his voice softer than before. "There's actually something I've been wanting to ask you."

"Oh? What is it, Max?" she tilted her head, curiosity evident in her expression.

Max took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like he was about to qualify for a crucial race. "Well, I was wondering... have you ever been to Monaco?"

"No, actually, I haven't," YN's eyebrows raised in surprise, "It's always been on my travel wish list, though. Why do you ask?"

Max felt his heart rate pick up. He'd rehearsed this moment in his head countless times over the past few days, but now that it was here, he found himself fumbling for words.

"Well, you see, I have a two-week break coming up before the Baku GP, and I was thinking... maybe... if you're free, of course, and if you'd like to... you could come visit me in Monaco?"

The words tumbled out faster than he intended, and Max felt a blush creeping up his neck. He watched YN's face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. His mind raced with possibilities - what if she said no? What if this was too forward?

YN's eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. "Oh, Max, that's... wow. That's really sweet of you to offer."

Max, sensing a hint of hesitation, quickly added, "You could stay at my place. I have plenty of room, and it would be great to have you around. Plus I have two adorable cats that I'm sure you'd love."

YN's expression softened, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in her eyes. "That sounds amazing, Max. But… are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on your personal space or your time off."

Truth was, Max wanted to spent every free moment he had with her, but he wasn't sure how to let her know without sounding too forward or like a creep, so he just pressed on.

"You wouldn't be imposing at all, I promise. I really want us to spend more time together, away from the craziness of the race weekends. And I'd love to show you around Monaco."

He watched as YN bit her lip, considering his offer. The silence stretched for a moment, and Max found himself holding his breath.

"If you're not comfortable staying at my place," he added quickly, "I could book you a hotel room, or there are some great Airbnbs with amazing views of the harbor. Whatever makes you feel most at ease. I just… I really want to see you again."

As he spoke, Max realized just how true his words were. The thought of having YN in his space, sharing meals, exploring the city together - it filled him with a warmth he couldn't quite describe. It was more than just attraction; there was a comfort in her presence that he craved.

YN smiled, a warm look in her eyes. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"I do. Look, I know it might seem like a big ask, but I just... I can't stop thinking about how much fun we have together. And Monaco is beautiful this time of year. We could go for drives along the coast, have dinner at some amazing restaurants, or just relax by the pool if you prefer. No pressure, just... us. And well, the cats."

Max held his breath, waiting for her response. The thought of having YN in Monaco, of being able to spend uninterrupted time with her away from the pressures of the race weekend, made his heart soar. He imagined showing her his favorite spots in the city, maybe taking her out on his boat, or just lounging by the pool and talking for hours.

"Alright, Verstappen, you've convinced me. But I have one condition."

"Name it." Max grinned, relief and excitement washing over him.

"If I'm staying at your place, you have to let me cook my infamous waffles for breakfast. They're a secret family recipe, and I guarantee they'll be the best you've ever tasted."

"Deal," Max's smile widened, a burst of joy exploding in his chest. "But I warn you, I take my waffles very seriously. They better live up to the hype."

"Oh, they will. And I can't wait to meet the cats."

As they continued to chat and make plans for YN's visit, Max felt a warmth spreading through his chest. The prospect of having YN in his home, of waking up and knowing she was just in the next room, of being able to spend lazy mornings together over homemade waffles - it all seemed almost too good to be true.

He found himself imagining what it would be like to have her there. Would she curl up on his couch with a book? Would they watch the sunset from his terrace? Would he finally get the courage to kiss her?

The thought made his heart race. He remembered the moment at the airport when he had wanted so badly to kiss her goodbye. This time, he promised himself, he wouldn't let the opportunity pass by.

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The day of YN's arrival in Monaco had finally come, and Max felt like a giddy teenager preparing for his first date.

In the days leading up to YN's visit, Max had found himself unusually preoccupied with preparations. He wanted everything to be perfect for YN's stay. He'd bought new sheets for the guest bedroom, making sure they were the softest he could find. He'd stocked the fridge with an array of foods, unsure of her preferences but making sure to have options. He'd even gone so far as to buy a small collection of books he thought she might enjoy, arranging them carefully on the nightstand in her room.

The morning of her arrival, Max woke up early, his stomach a knot of excitement and nerves. He double-checked everything one last time - fresh towels in the bathroom, extra toiletries in case she forgot anything, a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen counter to brighten up the space. He felt almost silly with how much effort he was putting in, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted everything to be perfect for the girl he was smitten with.

As the time to leave for the airport approached, Max found himself pacing, checking his watch every few minutes. He'd planned the route to the airport meticulously, factoring in potential traffic to make sure he'd be there in plenty of time. Just as he was about to grab his keys and head out, the doorbell rang.

Confused, Max paused. He wasn't expecting anyone - he'd made sure to clear his schedule completely for YN's visit. Frowning slightly, he opened the door to find Lando standing there, a wide grin on his face.

"Lando? What are you doing here?" Max asked, glancing at his watch.

"What, can't a mate drop by for a visit?" Lando replied, trying to peer past Max into the apartment. "Thought we could hang out, maybe play some FIFA."

Max shifted awkwardly, blocking the doorway. "Lando, mate, I'm actually just about to head out. I can't hang out right now."

"Oh, come on," Lando's grin faltered slightly, "Just for a bit? We haven't had a proper catch-up in ages."

"I'm sorry, I really can't," Max insisted, glancing at his watch nervously. "I have to pick up a friend from the airport."

Lando's eyes narrowed suspiciously, a mischievous glint appearing. "A friend, huh? Is it that your book dream girl? You're flying her out over here?"

Max felt his face heat up, a blush creeping up his neck. He tried to deny it, but his reaction gave him away.

"It is! Oh man, this is brilliant," Lando's eyes widened in delight, "Max Verstappen, blushing like a schoolboy over a girl."

"Shut up," Max grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. He couldn't help but smile.

"So, YN is finally gracing Monaco with her presence," Lando teased. "No wonder you've been so distracted lately. When do I get to hang out with her?"

"You don't," Max rolled his eyes, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go."

"Alright, alright," Lando stepped aside, still grinning. "But I want details later, yeah? And tell YN I said hi."

Max waved him off, hurrying to his car. Despite Lando's teasing, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. The excitement was bubbling up inside him again as he drove to the airport.

As he parked and made his way to the arrivals area, Max felt his nerves almost making him want to throw up. He found himself fidgeting, alternating between pacing and sitting, his eyes glued to the arrivals board.

Finally, he saw that YN's flight had landed. His heart rate picked up as he watched the doors, scanning the crowd for her familiar face. And then, suddenly, there she was.

YN emerged from the arrivals gate, looking a bit tired from the journey but still radiant. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on Max, her face lit up with a brilliant smile.

Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He raised his hand in a small wave, a grin spreading across his face as he walked towards her.

"Hey, Max," she said as she reached him, her voice warm and slightly breathless.

"Hey," he replied, suddenly feeling shy. "How was your flight?"

Without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. As he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her hair, he felt a sense of rightness wash over him. It was as if all the pieces were falling into place.

"It was good, just long," she hugged him back tightly. "I'm so glad to be here though."

As they pulled apart, Max found himself reluctant to let go completely. He kept one hand on her back as he reached for her suitcase with the other. "Here, let me get that for you."

"Always the gentleman," YN teased, but her smile was soft and appreciative.

As they walked towards the exit, Max found himself stealing glances at her, still hardly believing she was really here. "So, um, I thought we could grab some lunch if you're hungry? Or if you're tired, we can head straight to my place so you can rest."

YN considered for a moment. "Lunch sounds great, actually. I'm starving, and I'm too excited to sleep just yet. I want to see Monaco."

Max chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at her enthusiasm. "Lunch it is then. I know just the place – it has a great view of the harbor."

As they made their way to Max's car, chatting easily about YN's flight and Max's plans for her visit, Max felt a sense of contentment he hadn't experienced in a long time. The nervousness from earlier had melted away, replaced by pure happiness.

Loading YN's suitcase into the trunk, Max caught her eye and smiled. "I'm really glad you're here, YN."

She returned his smile, her eyes sparkling. "Me too, Max. Me too."

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username1 AWEEE

username2 those are cute kittens

username3 those look like max verstappen's cats

username4 JIMMY AND SASSY VERSTAPPEN??

↳ username1 how CRAZY would it be

danielricciardo Don't hesitate to shout if he's much trouble

↳ username2 HOLD ON??

↳ ynreadsbooks he's just fine don't worry 😅

↳ username3 IS SHE REALLY WITH MAX??

↳ maxverstappen1 I'm not trouble...

↳ username1 OMFGGG

↳ username4 THIS PLOT TWIST

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Three days had passed since YN's arrival in Monaco, and Max couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier.

True to her word, YN had cooked her infamous waffles for breakfast on the second morning of her stay. As Max had taken his first bite, his eyes had widened in surprise and delight. The waffles were light and crispy on the outside, yet fluffy on the inside, with a perfect balance of sweetness and a hint of vanilla. He'd declared them the best he'd ever tasted, earning a proud smile from her.

The days that followed had been filled with laughter, conversation, and exploration. They'd spent hours by Max's pool, talking about everything and nothing. YN would often bring a book, reading aloud passages that she found particularly interesting or amusing, while Max listened, content to hear her voice and watch the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she loved.

They'd explored Monaco together, with Max showing YN his favorite spots and discovering new ones together. He'd taken her to the Monte Carlo Casino, where they'd marveled at the architecture and people-watched. They'd strolled through the streets of Monaco-Ville, the old town, where YN had been enchanted by the colorful buildings. They'd even spent an afternoon at the Oceanographic Museum, where YN's enthusiasm for learning had been infectious, and Max had found himself just as excited as she was about the marine life exhibits.

Throughout it all, Max felt himself falling deeper for her. It wasn't just her beauty or her intelligence that captivated him, but the way she saw the world. Her curiosity, her kindness, her ability to find joy in the smallest things - it all made Max see his surroundings through new eyes. He found himself noticing details he'd never paid attention to before, appreciating moments he might have otherwise overlooked.

What struck Max most was how easy and right it all felt. There was no pressure, no awkwardness. Being with YN was as natural as breathing. They could talk for hours without running out of things to say, but they were also comfortable in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.

As they returned from another long day of exploring the city, both Max and YN retreated to their respective rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Max opted for a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, relishing the feeling of being relaxed and at ease in his own home.

When he emerged from his room, he found YN already settled on his couch, her legs tucked under her, a book in her hands and one of his cats curling beside her. She was wearing one the t-shirt she picked the night she arrived when she realized she forgot to pack pajamas. It was too big for her frame but Max felt like melting knowing she was wearing his shirt.

The sight made Max's heart skip a beat. There was something so intimate and domestic about the scene - YN looking completely at home in his space, in his clothes, absorbed in a book as if she'd always been there.

Max couldn't help but smile, a warmth spreading through his chest. He found himself wanting this view in his life every day - coming home to find YN there, comfortable and content. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, never wanted to intertwine his life so completely with another person's.

YN looked up from her book, catching Max's gaze. Her lips curved into a soft smile. "Hey. Want to join me?"

Without hesitation, Max crossed the room. Instead of sitting next to her, he surprised both of them by lying down on the couch and resting his head in her lap. He looked up at her, his eyes vulnerable. "Would you read to me?"

YN's expression softened, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Of course," she said, her free hand moving to gently run her fingers through his hair.

Max closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation. He felt her shift slightly, getting comfortable, and then her voice filled the air, soft and melodious as she began to read.

Max's lips curved into a smile. "Emma," he murmured. "I remember you mentioning it was one of your favorites."

YN paused her reading, looking down at him with surprise and pleasure. "You remembered that?"

"Of course," Max opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "I remember everything you tell me."

A huge grin appeared in YN's face, and she bent down to press a soft kiss to Max's forehead. The gesture was so natural, so tender, that it made Max's heart flutter.

As she continued to read, her fingers still combing through his hair, Max found himself only half-listening to the words. Instead, he was acutely aware of every point of contact between them - the warmth of her lap under his head, the gentle touch of her fingers, the soft cadence of her voice washing over him.

In that moment, Max realized with startling clarity that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Not just the glamour of racing or the thrill of victory, but this - quiet moments of intimacy, the comfort of being with someone who understood him, who made him want to be better.

He reached up, gently taking YN's free hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. She paused in her reading, looking down at him with a question in her eyes.

"YN," Max said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm really glad you're here."

She squeezed his hand, her smile radiant. "So am I, Max. So am I."

As she resumed reading, her voice mixing with the soft sound of the Mediterranean breeze outside, Max closed his eyes again, a sense of peace settling over him. Whatever the future held, he knew that this moment, this feeling, was something he'd cherish forever.

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username1 GIRL

username2 THIS ESCALATED QUICKLY

username3 how do you go from max randomly commenting one of your videos to this

username4 girl we can tell that's max dw 😭😭

username5 YOU OWE US A TWO HOUR STORYTIME VIDEO

username6 anything you want to tell us best friend?

username7 she just had a book and a dream fr

landonorris Has he bored you yet?

↳ username1 IM DYING

↳ username2 she really masterminded her way into the f1 circle

↳ ynreadsbooks he's nice, makes good smoothies 😉

↳ maxverstappen1 Good to know that ❤️

↳ landonorris I'm disgusted

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As the final day of YN's stay in Monaco dawned, Max found himself feeling so many bittersweet emotions. The past week had been nothing short of magical, and the thought of it coming to an end left a hollow feeling in his chest. She hadn't even left yet, and already he missed her.

For their final day, Max had decided to take YN out on his yacht. He wanted their last hours together to be special, just the two of them away from the bustling streets of Monaco. As they prepared for the day, packing a picnic and gathering sunscreen and towels, Max couldn't help but reflect on the past week.

Daniel and Lando had teased him mercilessly about his sudden disappearance from their usual hangouts. They'd made jokes about Max being "whipped" and how he'd fallen hard for his "YouTube dream girl." But Max didn't care. He was too happy, too caught up in the bubble of joy that surrounded him and YN.

As they boarded the yacht, the Mediterranean stretching out before them in shades of turquoise, Max felt a pang in his chest. This perfect week was coming to an end, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face reality again.

Once they were out on the open water. YN leaned over the railing, a look of wonder on her face.

"This is incredible, Max," she said, turning to him with a dazzling smile. "I can't believe I'm here, experiencing all of this."

Max moved to stand beside her, their shoulders brushing. "I'm going to miss you," he said softly, "This week has been… I don't even have words for it."

"I'm going to miss you too, Max. So much. But you know I have to go back home. I have videos to make for my channel, work stuff to catch up on…"

Max nodded, understanding but not liking it. "Maybe you could make a video about 'A Week with an F1 Driver'? I'm sure your subscribers would love that."

YN laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Oh yes, I'm sure that would go over well. 'Day 3: Watched Max eat his bodyweight in pasta. Day 5: Learned that F1 drivers are actually big babies when they lose at Mario Kart.'"

"I am not a baby!" Max gasped in mock offense. "I'm just… competitive."

"Uh-huh, sure," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Is that why you pouted for an hour after I beat you?"

"I did not pout," Max protested, but he was grinning.

"You know, it's still surreal to me that a random video I published got us here. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be spending a week in Monaco with Max Verstappen, I would have laughed in their face."

Max reached out, caressing her cheek softly. "I'm glad you made that video," he said softly. "I'm glad I stumbled across it. I can't imagine not knowing you now."

As they stood together on the boat, the gentle rocking of the waves mirroring the tumultuous emotions within them, Max found his gaze drawn to YN's lips. They were slightly parted, soft and inviting. His heart raced as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, a silent question in his gaze.

YN's eyes, warm and full of affection, met his. A small, knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth, and in that moment, it was all the permission Max needed.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back while the other cupped her cheek. Time seemed to slow as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the space between them. And then, finally, their lips met.

The kiss was tender at first, a soft exploration. But as YN's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair, it deepened into something more passionate. Max poured all of his pent-up emotions into the kiss - his joy, his longing, his hope for what they could be.

When they finally parted, YN's eyes were sparkling. "You know," she said, a playful tone to her voice, "I've been waiting for you to do that all week."

Max couldn't help but laugh, a mixture of relief and happiness bubbling up inside him. "Really? All week, huh?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, her smile widening. "I was starting to think I'd have to make the first move myself."

"Well," Max said, his voice low and teasing, "allow me to make up for lost time."

With that, he pulled her in for another kiss. This one was different from the first - more confident, more passionate. His hands roamed her back, pulling her flush against him as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world around them faded away until there was nothing but the two of them, the taste of salt on their lips, and the warmth of the setting sun on their skin.

When they broke apart this time, both were slightly dazed. Max rested his forehead against YN's, unwilling to put any distance between them.

"I really like you," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I've ever liked anyone before. This week with you… it's been incredible. I don't want it to end."

YN's hand came up to cup his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. "I really like you too, Max," she replied, her voice equally soft. "These past few days have been like a dream."

Max pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. "I know you have to go back, but… I want to make this work. Us, I mean. If that's something you want too."

"I do want that. Very much. It might not be easy with our schedules and the distance, but I think you're worth it."

"We'll figure it out," he said, determination clear in his voice. "I'll come visit you when I can, and you can come to some of my races. We'll make time for video calls, and I'll text you so much you'll get sick of me."

YN laughed, the sound like music to Max's ears. "I don't think I could ever get sick of you," she said, her eyes twinkling. "But I'm holding you to that promise about the races. I expect VIP treatment, Mr. Verstappen."

Max grinned, pulling her close again. "For you? Always," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another kiss.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

ynreadsbooks has added to their stories

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The month following YN's stay in Monaco had been blissful happiness for both YN and Max. Their parting at the airport had been bittersweet, filled with lingering kisses and tight embraces. They had spent a good hour cuddling in Max's car in the airport parking lot, neither wanting to let go.

"I'm going to miss you so much," YN had whispered, her face buried in the crook of Max's neck.

Max had tightened his arms around her, breathing in her scent. "I'll miss you too. But we'll see each other soon, I promise."

When they finally managed to separate, their goodbye kiss had been passionate and filled with promise. As Max watched her disappear into the airport, he already felt a piece of his heart leaving with her.

In the weeks that followed, they took every opportunity to be together. Max would fly to YN's home during his breaks between races, often arriving exhausted but immediately revitalized by her presence.

Their reunions were always intense, filled with desperate kisses and roaming hands as they made up for lost time. But it was the quiet moments that Max treasured most - waking up with YN in his arms, her sleepy smile the first thing he saw; cooking breakfast together, stealing kisses between flipping pancakes; or simply sitting in comfortable silence, each lost in their own tasks but finding comfort in the other's presence.

Now, as they walked hand in hand through the paddock in Austin for the USA Grand Prix, Max felt a sense of pride and joy unlike anything he'd experienced before. Having YN by his side at a race weekend, this time as more than just a friend, felt right in a way he couldn't fully express.

"This is incredible, Max," YN breathed, squeezing his hand. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

Max grinned, his heart swelling with affection. He loved seeing the paddock through her eyes, rediscovering the magic that he sometimes took for granted.

"Wait until you see the track," he said, pulling her closer. "And the sound when all the cars start up… there's nothing like it."

They paused for a moment, watching as a group of mechanics wheeled a set of tires past them. Max took the opportunity to really look at his girl. She was radiant in the sunlight, her hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling with excitement. He couldn't resist leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

YN turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. "What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason to kiss my girl?" Max replied, his voice low and teasing.

She laughed, the sound music to his ears. "I suppose not. But maybe save some for later? We are in public, after all."

"You're killing me," Max groaned dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus on racing when you look like that?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage," YN teased, patting his chest. "After all, I hear you're quite good at this driving thing."

Their playful banter was interrupted by a familiar voice calling out. "Oi, Verstappen! Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"

Max turned to see Daniel approaching, his trademark grin in place. Lando was close behind, an equally mischievous look on his face.

"Hey guys," Max greeted, unconsciously pulling YN closer. "You remember YN, right?"

"Ah yes," Daniel's grin widened. "Nice to see you again, love."

"It's great to see you too, Daniel," she smiled warmly. "And you, Lando."

Lando's eyes darted between Max and YN, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "So, Max, finally managed to seal the deal, huh?"

Max felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could respond, YN jumped in.

"Oh, he did more than that," she said, her tone light but with a hint of something that made Max's pulse quicken. "He's been quite… impressive."

Daniel let out a low whistle while Lando burst into laughter. Max couldn't help but join in, marveling at how effortlessly YN fit into his world.

As they chatted, Max couldn't keep his hands off YN. He found himself constantly touching her - a hand on the small of her back, playing with her fingers, rubbing her arm softly. Each touch was like a spark, reminding him of their passionate reunions over the past month.

He thought back to their last meeting, just a week ago. He had flown to her place straight after he was done with some meetings in Monaco, exhausted but desperate to see her. The moment he stepped through her door, all fatigue had vanished. They had barely made it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. The memory of her skin against his, the taste of her lips, the sound of her gasps and moans… it was enough to make him want to whisk her away to his motorhome right now.

Max was pulled from his thoughts by the approach of another familiar face. Charles Leclerc was walking towards them, his trademark charming smile in place.

"Max! Good to see you, man," Charles said, clapping Max on the shoulder before turning his attention to YN. "And who might this lovely lady be?"

Without hesitation, the words tumbled from Max's lips: "This is YN, my girlfriend."

He felt the girl stiffen slightly beside him, and for a moment, panic flared in his chest. Had he overstepped? They hadn't explicitly discussed labels yet. But when he glanced at YN, she was smiling warmly at Charles, her hand still firmly in Max's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles," YN said, shaking his hand.

Charles raised an eyebrow at Max, a hint of surprise in his expression. "The pleasure is all mine. I hope you're enjoying your time in the paddock."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they parted ways. Max led YN towards his driver's room. Once inside the relative privacy of the small space, YN turned to him, a playful glint in her eye.

"Girlfriend, huh?" she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something Max couldn't quite identify.

Max felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "I… yeah. I mean, if that's okay? I know we haven't really talked about it, but…"

YN stepped closer, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "It's more than okay, Max. I was just surprised. We've been in this beautiful bubble, and hearing you say it out loud… it made it feel real in a way it hasn't before."

Max let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands found their way to YN's waist, pulling her closer. "It is real," he said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Feels like you're everything."

Her eyes softened, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You're everything to me too, Max. I love you."

The words hung in the air between them for a moment, both realizing it was the first time either had said it. Then Max surged forward, capturing YN's lips in a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate.

When they broke apart. Max rested his forehead against YN's, his eyes closed as he savored the moment.

"I love you too," he whispered. "God, YN, I love you so much."

YN's answering smile was radiant and she pulled him in for another kiss.

"So," he said, his voice husky, "ready to watch your boyfriend win a race?"

YN laughed, the sound filling the small space and Max's heart. "Always," she replied. "My misunderstood hero with a heart of gold."

[yasministration]

Love, Mum and Dad - Harry, James x reader

summary: Harry gets the memory book you and James made for him to open on his 17th birthday, but he gets it a little sooner, and discovers things about the family he could have had. (angst/fluff) wc: 2.8k

Sirius didn’t know if it was the time to give Harry the memory book. The gift you’d planned on building until Harry was 17, when you’d finally give it to him. At James’s bachelor party — a small gathering between him, Sirius, Frank Longbottom and the Prewett twins (You had claimed Remus for your bachelorette), James had excitedly revealed what you’d told him. “She said, I want to start collecting all our memories from when we started dating to make a memory book. A memory book that we can keep making until our future baby is an adult, and then we’ll give it to him.” The boys had all cheered, giving James a few pats on the back. “So apparently she wants us to have a son, and I know exactly what I want to name him.” He had joyfully laughed along with the others, refusing to reveal the name of his future boy, claiming that it’s somehow bad luck.

Now that Harry was actually here at Grimmauld Place, even at the age of 15, Sirius knew he had to give him the book. Sirius knew Harry was insecure, doubting that anyone loved him at all, and especially facing such dark times, he knew Harry could use the love of his parents, a love that had saved his life once before.

Harry was a wanderer, he couldn’t sleep at night, so Sirius was not surprised to find him in his family’s make shift library, scanning through all the outdated titles. Sirius made himself known by clearing his throat from where he stood in the doorway. Harry jumped, spinning around to look at Sirius, who held the memory book in his right hand. Harry’s godfather told him to follow him to a private room, one with a pensieve he hadn’t seen before. “This is from your parents. They wanted to give it to you when you became an adult, but given the circumstances…” Sirius averted his teary gaze as Harry took the book in his hands, flicking through the pages, his breath becoming heavier as he caught glimpses of moving images in the book.

“Each and every memory… Just don’t forget to put them back.” And with that, a teary eyed Sirius left Harry alone. When Harry properly opened the first page of the photo book, he found small tubes with glimmering memories next to each photo. His breath shook. He looked at the first picture.

The first image of you and James had been taken from afar, as though someone had been spying on you. When he released the memory into the pensieve below, he quickly learned that Sirius and Remus had been the ones spying on you, on your first date. Harry had laughed, listening to Sirius constantly narrating everything to a muggle camera he held, watching as he and Remus quickly ran behind people to avoid being seen by you. Harry quickly learned through these memories that not every memory would make him laugh, and that he would actually shed a few more tears than intended.

This next memory was different than all the other celebrations — the anniversaries, the weddings — Harry realised, as he watched you nervously tuck your hair behind your ear. You were in the kitchen of the house you and James had just moved into. It wasn’t decorated yet, with the exception of a single image of you and James on your wedding day. Your entire house was barely furnished, with James taking on all the building due to the growing baby in your belly. Harry jumped up on the counter to watch the scene in front of him unfold. You had a worried crease between your eyebrows, and you leaned back on the counter, staring at the warm batch of cookies you had baked. James walked in front of you with a smile, his arms sliding under your sweater to rest on your small bump — one Harry hadn’t realised was present until James brought it to his attention. Harry hopped off the counter, taking slow steps towards you to admire your baby bump. He tried reaching out to touch it, but his hand went right through you.

“What if they say no James, what if they don’t want to?” You asked worriedly, looking up at James. “Baby,” James started with a chuckle, “They’re going to be the most excited people on earth.” You huffed doubtfully, a small pout on your lips that James happily pressed his lips to. “James.” You muttered, but before your new husband could reply, the front door slammed open. “Honey, I’m home!” Sirius loudly called, causing you and James to laugh, though you had clear distress laced in your voice. “I really don’t know why we keep apparating outside your front door when we just end up barging in anyway.” Sirius announced as he walked into the kitchen. “Oh hey, cookies!”“I for one, suggested to knock.” Clarified Remus as he followed his boyfriend into the room. James moved from where he stood in front of you so that your best friends could see you.

James tutted, snatching the plate of freshly bakes cookies from the table just as Sirius reached out to take one, causing the boy to frown. “In the living room.” The two boys went silent, Sirius running a hand through his hair as Remus nervously tugged on the sleeves of his sweater. James gestured to the door, letting the boys wander out so that he could wrap his free arm around your waist, tugging you close to his side to kiss your cheek.

Harry eagerly followed you all into the living room, which he noticed looked painfully bare. It looked like something that was becoming a family’s first home, though it wasn't quite there yet. There were so many pictures laid out on the coffee table, empty picture frames stacked beside them. In a corner of the room, tools were scattered on the floor, wooden parts and instructions beside them. Harry theorised that it might be a crib in the making.

“Okay, sit down, have a cookie.” You said, hands clasped in front of you. You took in a deep breath as Remus and Sirius both cautiously reached for a cookie, watching as James hugged you from behind, his hands snaking around your waist to rest on your stomach. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and decided to take initiative when you opened and closed your mouth a couple of times. “So you guys know we’re having a baby.” The two boys nodded, and Harry watched closely as Sirius put a hand on Remus’s thigh. “We want you guys to be the godparents!” You squeaked loudly, physically cringing as you revealed the information.

“Shut up!” Sirius screamed, immediately jumping up on his feet with a giant smile on his face as he ran up to hug you. James threw his hands up in the air jealously, watching his best friend hug his wife, and accepting the hug Remus offered him. “This is what you baked cookies for?” Remus asked with a smile when he let go of James to wrap his arms around you tightly. You nodded, tears filling your eyes, and Remus pulled you close to his chest as you sniffled. “So is that a yes?” Your question was immediately answered by the two boys, with Sirius saying “This calls for drinks!” before apologising profusely as he immediately realised that you could, in fact, not drink. This time when you laughed at his words, it was genuine.

Harry was smiling widely, desperate to join in on the shared hugs when he took notice of the lump in his throat that made it hard to swallow. Not wanting to cry, the teenager left the memory, returning it to its glass tube before putting the next one in the pensieve.

This time, Harry is somewhere new. Somewhere he’s never been before. A warm house, with a similar atmosphere to the Burrow. There’s bustling energy, and a special kind of joy in the air. The only person Harry recognises in the room is Sirius, who leads a woman into the living room of the house with an arm familiarly thrown over her shoulder. The woman looks like someone he knows, but he can’t tell who. It’s only when the mysterious woman is led towards an unknown man that it clicks for Harry. His father is the spitting image of the man in front of him, and therefore, so is he. “Oh Euphemia, I can’t believe we’re meeting our grandbaby.” The man says, hugging his wife tightly. The pair doesn’t look nearly old enough to have grandchildren, they barely look like they’re in their 40s. Someone comes in from the garden door, saying “I’ve picked the apples for you Mrs. Potter, is there anything else I can do?” But she only thanks Remus, who's wrapped in countless warm layers of clothing, asking him to put the apples in the kitchen.

There’s two soft knocks on the front door, and the entire room goes silent as James’s parents rush to open the door. James shyly smiles at them, his arm protectively wrapped around your side. Euphemia immediately bursts into tears when her eyes land on you and your newborn baby, only a few days old. Fleamont wraps his arms around his son, who instantly begins crying like his mother, and Remus ushers you into the house, closing the door behind you to protect you from the chilly weather. Euphemia wants to hug you, but she's too busy wiping her tears away as she asks questions about your health and delivery, making sure you’re okay. You nudge your husband’s side, and he happily takes Harry from your arms, showing him off to the other three men in the room.

Euphemia hugs you tightly before leading you to sit down and instantly handing you some tea. She lets the men rave over the little baby boy, but she’s concerned for the new mother's health. It doesn’t take long for James to come back to your side carrying Harry in his arms, and he takes his mother’s place next to you on the couch. He doesn’t let anyone hold Harry, too happy to finally be able to hold him himself after you've spent nine months doing so. Present Harry walks across the room, between Sirius and his grandfather, over the gifts on the floor and past his beautiful grandmother to sit on the arm of the couch next to you. He looks at his young sleeping figure, only born days ago, and knows how much he is loved. By his parents, grandparents, godparents, and all your friends and family.

And he knows it’s too much. All Harry ever wanted was for his parents to be alive, and the thought of the life he could be living with them right now makes him feel as though his heart has been ripped out of his chest. He would do anything to be back in that position again: in his parents’ arms, a joyful family around him. He didn’t even need his grandparents there; you two would have been enough.

Harry needs to take a moment for himself when he finally breaks away from his memory. He leans on a table for support, taking in heaving breaths as he sobs and sobs, tears dripping on the ground. The small glass tube containing the memory rolls onto the floor and Harry dives to catch it, holding it close to his chest as pain runs through his entire body. These memories should have made him happy, he thinks, so why do they hurt so much? Harry gasps for oxygen, trying to urge his panic and sadness away, trying to turn it into happiness for the things he had, for the love he still has. Slowly, he pushes himself off the ground, moving all the way to the last page of your memory book and taking out the corresponding tube.

When Harry is sucked into the pensieve again, the atmosphere has completely changed. He’s located back at home again, in Godric’s Hollow, where you and James had built your forever home. The sole sight of the homey and safe atmosphere has tears clouding Harry’s vision again, but his feet bring him further down the entryway and into the living room of your house. The first thing Harry does is take in the sight of the decorated house, made to look like his very own heaven. The lighting is warm, photos of family and friends hung up on the wall next to the fireplace. The room is filled with plants, and a small crib was placed next to an armchair. And here you are: sat there with James on the couch, sharing a passionate kiss. The moment is intimate, with your legs tangled up and James’s hand cupping your jaw, but Harry can’t bring himself to look away from you. “James.” He hears you mumble in the kiss, eyes fluttering open as you let James’s familiarity envelop you. “My sweetheart.” James echoes, his eyes still shut as he immerses himself in the moment.

Harry gulps loudly, harshly wiping a tear off his cheek as he watches his dad’s eyes slowly open, a wide smile forming on his face when he finds your eyes already on him. You laugh softly as your husband kisses you again, but you instantly pull away from him, eyes going wide with alert. Harry frowns, his expression matching his father’s, and that’s he he hears it: the soft padding of feet on the floor, and a quiet call of “Mama?” Harry’s eyes are instantly glued to his younger self, appearing around the corner on wobbly feet.

Your body runs past him in a flash, travelling across the living room on quick feet to kneel in front of your son. Young Harry makes grabby hands at you, and you immediately scoop him up in your arms, speaking to him in a soft whisper. “What’s wrong sweetheart? You hungry?” You ask, cradling him in your arms. Young Harry makes an incomprehensible noise, and Harry laughs in adoration. He has to be a year or two in this memory. Harry glances back to where James now stands up, walking over to his family, where he wraps his arms around both of you, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Think he’s hungry.” You tell your husband, who hums, leading you to the couch to sit down. James helps you pull your jumper up just enough for baby Harry to latch on to your breast, humming in innocent satisfaction. You smile down at him, running a hand through his soft short hair. James carefully wraps an arm around your shoulder, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as you blink tiredly. Harry stares at the perfect image of the family in front of him, and soon enough, realises he’s not the only one crying. James is sniffling next to you, taking in shaky breaths in a poor attempt not to disturb you or baby Harry. You lift your head off your husband’s shoulder to look up at him, and smile lovingly at him, a hand lifting off the back of Harry’s head to wipe at James’s tears. “James.” You whisper, and he instantly opens his mouth, voice breaking as he says “I love you both so, so much.” And his words have a sob wracking out of present Harry’s chest.

He floats out of the memory just as you bring James into a short kiss, the sight of him being loved by his parents the last thing he sees before finding himself standing at the foot of the pensieve again. Harry shuts the memory book, closing his eyes tightly — it’s enough for one lonesome night. But something catches his attention as his hand rests on the back of the book. An odd texture under his fingertips, forming crevices into the leather. Harry’s eyes flutter open, and he notices a gold engraving into the book. Engravings that form letters, words. A note.

Dear Harry,

You’re finally an adult!!! You can do anything you ever wanted, even without our permission. And move out if we’re too annoying sometimes, though that feels wrong to write with you sitting in front of us as a little baby boy. We just wanted you to know that no matter where you are, or what you’re doing, we’ll always support you and be here for you. And not just us, everyone in this book, everyone who forms your family.

We love you so much Harry, and even though you’re all grown now, you’ll always be our baby, just like in these first memories.

Love,

Mum and Dad

To say the least, Harry doesn't sleep that night.

[ditzybeee]

❥・Jason Todd — high school bf

❥・tags: jason todd blurb, jason todd is a loverboy, jason todd is a loser, high school sweethearts, gn!reader, no use of y/n, implied dialogue, loosely based on me and my bf :3

❥・word count: 636

❥・─────────────────────

Jason Todd is crushing hard.

The two of you met freshman year and he couldn't get you out of his head since.

He, of course, went through the painful process of friends-to-lovers. Because he'd rather make sure you liked him—a lot—before considering flirting.

Not that you'd know it.

He was bad at it. He was so, so bad at it.

Stupid lines from his stupid novels. Did you even read Jane Austen?

Never mind that you thought it was cute—you thought he was cute—lucky him.

When Jason asked you out, it couldn't be less cheesy. Full bouquet of flowers—which he didn't burden you with holding for the school day—and a bunch of your favorite snacks, which you promptly shoved into your bag before your teachers questioned them.

Newly dating and he was so excited. Nervous and sweaty palmed holding your hand in his, smiling ear to ear.

He'd walk you to class, even if it's across campus.

Sure, a few tardies would damage his perfect record, but he can't afford you missing your classes.

Dates with Jason were something else. Bruce had Dick chaperone the first few—either that or the dates were at the manor. Not that he didn't trust you, but he didn't trust Jason.

And he wanted to see his second son awkwardly maneuver speaking to his own partner.

Jason shared his first kiss with you on his first non-chaperoned date. A picnic some spring day in which he kept sneezing because of the pollen, mumbling about how badly he looked.

You stared at him in awe, giggling, and helping him wipe his face.

He was so, so in love with you that he whispered if he could kiss you, and quickly did when you accepted.

As high school continued, your relationship blossomed.

Both families trusted the other to keep their child safe when they slept over, to send the two of you to different cities and states for events, and to allow trips.

Jason first said "I love you" when he saw you in your dance attire. Sure, he's seen you in formal wear before. But this? This takes the cake.

He kissed you quickly, whispering the three words into your ear before Alfred made you two pose for pictures.

This same scenario repeated every time the two of you had a dance.

Every dance, every school event, every club meeting, you and Jason were there together.

It was about junior year when he told you about Robin and how he was thinking of changing it to Red Hood once you two graduated. He took your pointers for his new costume design—after a week-long argument about him being a vigilante and how dangerous it was.

He asked you to prom in a long-winded text message—multiple questions of whether you wanted a public promposal—it was obvious he used speech-to-text, and the message mirrored his speech patterns.

The dance was great. Dinner was delicious and the night was equal parts your boyfriend and equal parts your friends.

The days leading up to graduation were full of anxiety and joy.

You and Jason would stay out well past your curfews—which were basically obsolete, as both families didn't enforce it, as long as you were with each other—and just hang out.

You'd talk about your plans after high school—college, trade school, straight to work?

He'd mumble soft praises against your skin as you ramble about your ambitions, mirroring your energy when you asked about his vigilante plans.

Graduation—Jason's eyes hadn't been dry for a single second that day. He sobbed when you walked across the stage, when you cheered just as loudly for him, and when he saw you in your graduation gown all dressed up.

Jason loves the title "high school sweethearts".

❥・─────────────────────

❥・a/n: im feelin soft for my boy rn :( obvi no trauma au if he never DIED <3 more smut soon tho! i wont have internet the week after this coming week so ill try and get as much stuff out as possible!

❥・masterlist

[macheriee]

𝒜pocalypse ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

⌗ everyone knew the boy’s father was lord commander of the city watch, that much was apparent. to your mother he was another insult to the throne, to you he was just the bastard, until he wasn’t.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tags enemies to lovers, hate-fucking kinda, aunt-nephew incest, targaryen-hightower!reader, TW: dub-con (oc struggles w/ accepting she got the hots for jace) call it horny guilt lmao but the first encounter is very much dubious but she gives in, lust at first sight, domesticity, fingering, pussy-eating, jace is low-key a simp/sub, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, impact play(?), breeding kinks cause it’s HOTD, rough sex, oc is mean asf at first, happy but angsty ending, light to medium angst, pregnancy mention, kinda canon it lowkey follows ssn 2 n some of 1 but not by a lottt (ex. mentioned scenes/flashbacks), oc n jace have been aged up (20), tweaked a few things to make sense so not completely canon, slow-burn ish but then it’s just fast burn lmao, curly-headed!jace 4ever, TW: oc has a panic attack

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count 10.7k

your lips my lips, apocalypse..

“Bastards,”

You’ve heard the strange term tumble from your mother and grandsire’s lips the day king Viserys brought forth princess Rhaenyra’s children. They each stood mockingly with their dark unruly curls and equally colored eyes, an uncanny resemblance to the city watch commander.

The truth of it was they were no true Velaryon, nor Targaryen—but a Strong. You wondered if Rhaenyra felt shame the way they came out with their plain features, mayhaps not as your mother said the princess was as stubborn as her dragon mount.

From the start Jacaerys was an aggravating little thing to look at as children when you both clung to your mother’s skirts. His eyes were filled with curiosity as were yours before Alicent found herself shielding you from his sight like she was afraid he’d sully you.

It was clear she had zero desire for her children to associate with Rhaenyra’s much to the king’s dismay (but when has father ever cared?) Your mother hardly kept you out of her sight and if it wasn’t her you were accompanied by your siblings, a handmaid, or Cole.

You never lacked in needing “friends” and grew fine without their company as you had Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. Occasionally you saw Jacaerys and his brother running about like little savages in the halls but you’re pulled away by a Septa just short of crossing paths.

Jacaerys was the one who intrigued you the most. It might have been age but you didn’t understand why it was so bad? What had Jacaerys done for your mother to forbid you from speaking with him? He was a bastard, yes, but what did it exactly have to do with you?

Jace—Jacaerys, wasn’t a threat. You had no throne nor a title of some sorts to claim; there was nothing to your name, so why?

As children during joint lessons there were timid but not so secret glances exchanged. Mostly curiosity but it was something both Cole and your brothers disapproved of, especially Aemond who had come to Helaena’s chambers angry after a lesson in the dragon pits with Aegon and Rhaenyra’s sons.

Eventually they left for Dragonstone, never to be seen again until a day before your tenth name day when you’re called to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral. Why you were called upon such a thing you don’t know, nor care really as you hadn’t known the lady much.

The entire event was a waste—your brother was maimed, the king being the king chose his eldest’s side and the family further divided. Alicent wept and mourned Aemond as Rhaenyra’s bastards would have your brother’s eye. You looked at Jacaerys in anger, resentment, and frustration.

Who was responsible, you don’t care, what angered you was the fact that they paraded their entitlement so freely and shamelessly. Rhaenyra could have outright said she wanted Aemond’s head and your father would still find a way to make excuses for her. (Maybe even give her what she wanted.)

That was the last you ever saw of him before leaving for Kings Landing to resume life without them. You found it much more enjoyable without your half-sister and her family around, in fact you’d rather it stay that way forever.

On occasion you found yourself thinking of your nephew. The memories clung to the walls leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, one in particular haunting:

You and the king stood together atop the balcony watching as Ser Cole trained with the princes—including Rhaenyra’s sons. It was clear Cole favored your brothers evident in the way he praised one side but barked orders (or completely ignored) at the other.

“They’ll make fearsome knights, don’t you think?” Your father turns to you with a gentle smile, his tone warm but distant.

“Possibly, if Aegon ever decides to leave his cups.” You fall into silence shortly after.

You never knew what to say to your father having been so distant and neglected it felt like you didn’t know him at all. You tolerated him at best and affection was out of the question leaving you with nothing, just mere acquaintances.

The king chuckles quietly and his mouth parts to speak with his Hand but Jacaerys interrupts with his angry cry as he charges forward at Aegon. Your lips part in surprise and out of the corner of your eye you see Ser Harwin circling, watching.

Aegon uses the straw dummy to avoid Jacaerys. He’s quick to corner the smaller, kicking Jacaerys down in the process.

“Don’t let him get up.” Cole barks which spurs the commander into action.

You watch in amusement as Cole is beaten to a bloody pulp by the bastard’s father. The king turns with concern, given this was no sight for a lady, “Why don’t you go and see if your mother needs something, perhaps your sister?”

You bow in courtesy, escorted away by your sworn shield but your mother’s apartments aren’t the place you’ll be going, no, you want to watch this mess play out a little longer.

“I wish to see my brothers.” You command softly, already walking towards the training grounds even if your knight was willing or not.

They’re pulling Harwin off when you step foot outside, Jacaerys and his brother huddle close while your older brother in particular looks both amused and bored of the entire ordeal already. No doubt still pissy about being grabbed and promptly scolded by the king (‘Aegon!’) .

“Sister,” Aemond greets once you’ve joined him and Aegon.

“How were your lessons?” You quietly fuss over his messy tunic whilst checking for any bruising or cuts on his face, thankfully none.

Aemond responds in kind with Aegon loudly interrupting but you ignore him and his poor manners. You can’t help the way your eyes flit over him and his brother from across the yard, your gaze scrutinizing and judgemental like your queen mother often wore when she expressed her displeasure.

The little bastard actually rises to the challenge. “Jace!” You turn in time to see him advancing quickly, expression full of anger and accusation.

“Is there something you have to say?” Jacaerys glares.

You look over your shoulder with a cool expression, “I don’t have anything to say, what makes you think that?” It’s agitating having to explain yourself to him of all people.

“Because you look like you have something to say, so say it!” It’s comical the way his cheeks and entire face glow red from anger.

You slowly turned to Jacaerys with folded hands placed politely over your front (as the Septa and your mother taught you), “I was merely talking about how Strong the two of you were out here.”

This immediately draws the attention of Ser Harwin. His face easily betrays his emotions but you simply smile at the commander, “It’s a good thing they have the city watch commander to guide them, isn’t it?”

Challenging little cunt you were, Harwin forces a tight smile, “Indeed, princess.”

He doesn’t get to stay much longer as the guards begin pushing him in the direction of the castle, away from his two Strong boys. You were going to wipe the smug face off that bastard–

Aegon shoves Jacaerys first into the dirt, sending the poor boy flying back as Lucerys panics calling out for him. Lucerys charges with a wooden stick in hand, his face twisted in anger and fear as he swings for Aegon, “Let my brother go!”

You scoff and stick your foot out, tripping the boy as you swiftly place a foot over his back pressing down, “Dohaerās!”

You put more pressure with each passing second he squirmed and cried. “Get off of him!” Jacaerys shoves Aegon off and runs at you, pushing past Aemond knocking him down too in the process.

You turn in time to see a head full of dark curls charging, your father yelling for everyone to put an end to this nonsense. “Or what? You’re going to run to mommy and tell her what I said?”

He stops dead in his tracks when you stalk towards him with a predatory look in your eye, “What’s wrong? Not strong now are you?” You shove him harder, causing him to stumble over the wooden sword, “Better yet, why don’t you call for your father to come save you?”

Harwin stills by the doors and the entire yard grows silent. Jacaerys clenches his fists tightly, “Ser Laenor isn’t here.” He grits.

You lean closer, eyes meeting Ser Harwin’s over Jacaerys’ shoulder, “Is he?”

The ‘Velaryon’ stiffens and you can’t hide your grin, “I was merely joking, relax.” You finish softly pulling away.

Aemond is there holding his elbow out for you to take, the two of you (Aegon included) disappear into the castle passing by the commander. Aemond himself shoots Harwin a look before uttering loud and clear:

“Bastards.” No one corrects him.

You remember the outrage you and your brothers caused with Rhaenyra. She demanded justice—especially towards you after learning you pushed her Luke to the ground and commanded him like an animal. She pushed for a harsh punishment, hell-bent on it.

Alicent, who usually was spoken over by her husband and every other man in her life, for once refused. Your mother made sure of it that no one, not even the king, was to touch or harm you, fiercely defending you against your half-sister.

‘Over words? You wish to have my daughter flogged over an insult?’

Needless to say your mother had the last say after some unsavory words and threats were exchanged in the council room. As Rhaenyra passed you met her eyes briefly before Alicent covered you with her own body.

They left like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. You, Aegon, and Aemond stood over a balcony watching the ships sail and dragons pass overhead. It was as if they were never there to begin with.

It wasn’t always unpleasant you suppose but with age you slowly begin caring and thinking less and less about those Strong boys.

༺ ──────────── ༻

“There’s to be a petition in court.” Your mother solemnly mumbles from her place by the open windows, she’s in one of her moods again and you wish no part of it. Was it Aegon who went and managed to piss her off for the umpteenth time?

You barely look up from the embroidery you’re working on (it’s a beetle for Helaena who has been feeling blue these days), “A petition for what?”

Alicent turns to you with a melancholic look on her face, she’s smiling but it falls short and her somber mood once again returns. “Nothing of importance my sweetling.” She lifts her skirts to take a seat beside you on the floor, “What are you working on?”

“A beetle, for Helaena.” As you’re showing her the doors to your rooms open and a handmaiden stands by with a soft ‘Prince Aemond, your grace,’

“Mother, y/n.” Aemond greets as he takes a seat in the chair next to you, leg crossed over his other. “For Helaena?” He murmurs, leaning down to get a better look.

You speak amongst quiet whispers while Alicent watches, content to see her two children together. “Mother, the petition does it have anything to do with Rhaenyra and her sons?”

Aemond, who had taken the embroidery to try for himself, stops in his tracks. Alicent feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, especially not with you two being so perceptive all the time. Her prolonged silence was enough answer anyway.

“Yes,” she finally relents, “Lord Corlys’ younger brother wishes to challenge Lucerys’ claim for Driftwood.”

Her tone is hesitant and careful, she looks at Aemond when she says his name. She’s treading carefully with her third born knowing he was particularly sensitive when he got angry.

“By extension the rest of her I presume?” You reach for a lemon cake mumbling to Aemond (‘Share one with me… I said to split it, not have it all.’—‘I did.’)

With the king bed-ridden nearing death and his first born off at Dragonstone, there was no need to hold your tongue. “Her claim will be questioned, as will her first born and second,” Aemond adds.

“I worry sometimes,” Alicent finally says, silence following, “for you, Helaena, Aegon—the children.” You know exactly what she means to tell.

“I do believe Helaena has been in need of some company. You may leave me, I have Aemond.” You reach for her hands and gently squeeze, “I will catch up with you two, yes?”

Alicent studies your face in worry before settling on brushing a few stray hairs out of your face, “Alright, I will see you.” She lays a gentle kiss over your head and rises to her feet.

Once the doors slam shut you finally release the sigh you’ve held in through the entire conversation with half a mind to ask for a bath to soothe your oncoming headache. “Seems our dear nephews will be arriving on the morrow.” He comments.

“Hm, seems so.” You’re not entirely sure how you feel, are you supposed to feel anything?

Things were different now you suppose, your hatred died down over the years without their insulting presence. You didn’t like them either, merely tolerated the idea of them.

Then there was the great Jacaerys Velaryon, future of the realm and heir to the throne, the same boy who plagued your dreams and memories all these years.

And he was to be here tomorrow, the first since Lady Laena’s funeral (which you had believed to be the last time you would ever have to see him).

“You’re free to speak plainly sister, we’re in private, we don't have to keep pretending.” Aemond mutters, head lolling in your direction as he stares at you.

You tilt your head, “And what would you have me say? That I’m looking forward to their little visit?”

“What excuse will it be this time? I don’t think she can easily sway the people with the evidence right there in plain sight,” he hums.

The more you think about her and her children coming here into your home tainting it all over again—you grow furious.

“Help me up will you? I think I’ll take a bath and meet you with mother.” You hope it will be enough to curb your anger for now.

Aemond holds you upright and levels you with a stare, “Something’s bothering you.”

“Well, yes–”

“Not them.” Aemond replies quietly and for a second you still.

You gently stroke the side of his face, watching as Aemond leans into your touch with a closed eye, “I’m fine,” you murmur, “now go.”

Luckily Aemond’s just as sweet on you and Helaena as he is stubborn and observant. He lets it go (thankfully) and you’re left alone to think about tomorrow. You could easily feign sickness or escape to the Sept (you were due for a prayer anyways) but mother would never let you as much as she would like to—your grandsire’s word evidently still strong over her.

You soak in the boiling hot tub, enjoying the steam delicate scents from the oils you regularly use. “That’s a problem for another day,” you find yourself murmuring to no one in particular as you sink further into the tub, eyes slipping shut.

༺ ──────────── ༻

You had done your best to carry on with your duties the following morning.

Nearly an hour had passed since you sat around staring at your reflection instead of allowing the handmaids to dress you. By this hour you’d be with your mother and Helaena in the gardens. Your absence however prompts the queen to come searching.

“What’s wrong?” Alicent whispers sitting beside you on the bed with worry etched on her brow as she gently moves your hair from your shoulder, “y/n?”

You place your hand over hers, “Braid my hair, like when I was child?” You hold the brush out for her to take.

She has you sit on the floor in front of her, gently combing the hair brush through your soft locks handling each strand of hair with care. The two of you fall into comfortable silence (save for her soft humming). All of your frustrations quickly lift off your shoulders the more you sink into her gentle caring touch.

“The dress is beautiful, when did you have this tailored?” Alicent comments softly, it was no secret to anyone that she saw herself in her youngest daughter—dutiful, composed, a good daughter.

The only difference was you had freedom she never did. While she had been made a child bride by her own father, you remained an unwed maiden at the age of twenty by choice. Alicent didn’t push for proposals and Otto knew better than to try and meddle with you like he had with Aegon and Helaena.

(‘Aemond had it made for me, Helaena has one in blue.’—‘The fabric, I don’t believe we have that around here do we?’) Your doors open and your drunken (maybe hungover) brother comes stumbling gracelessly.

“Well don’t you look darling.” He comments under his breath and saunters over to where you sit, falling flat on his back with his head in your lap.

“Aegon.” Alicent warns as she starts on another braid.

You look down and flick his forehead, “You smell of wine, and you're going to dirty my dress.” Despite the annoyance you still comb your fingers through his hair affectionately.

Aegon snorts unceremoniously, “Is it a crime to visit my sister now? My very beautiful sister—do say, when are you going to choose a husband? You’re past the age, and well nearly every lord in the realm’s been asking for your hand.” He smirks slyly knowing very well the topic of marriage angered the shit out of you.

“Aegon that’s enough, stop pestering your sister.” Alicent sighs heavily.

Your eyes flick over to the wine pitcher in your maid’s hands, the threat clear. A harmless grin forms on his face, one you can’t help but mirror teasingly as the two of you settle in silence as to not disturb your mother with children’s banter. You left that for your niece and nephew to do.

“There,” Alicent shows you through the mirror, “do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you.” You leaned back to lay in her lap.

Normally she would frown at receiving such affections but because it was you she held her tongue, never truly bothered by any of it. She allows it for a little longer before gently patting your shoulder.

“I must go and see to it that preparations for our guests are going well my sweetlings. I will see you in court later.” She departs hastily.

“Have you eaten?” You ask Aegon, who shakes his head as you rise to your feet together, “I haven’t either.”

Rhaenys and her granddaughter are the first to arrive on dragonback, and then your dear half-sister with her entourage of children and Daemon.

‘Ha, so they really did it,’ Lady Laena hadn’t been dead for a week and these two had already frolicked around (the night at Driftmark, you’re sure the two figures on the beach were them).

No one had been there to receive them—you certainly didn’t bother, you doubt any of your siblings would. You’re outside in the yard watching Criston Cole train with Aemond again, your brother much more swifter than the knight in comparison to when he was a child.

There’s a proud smile on your lips when Aemond emerges victorious, looking your way with a grin. “Come to watch me?” He tilts his head.

“What does it seem like?” You muse softly after seeing that Aemond has garnered attention from other knights and maids, making a spectacle of his sparring in a outstandish way.

“It seems you want to spar with me,” he smirks.

“Daor.”

Aemond snorts, “Fine,” he picks his sword back up and points it to Cole, “again, I wish to win this next round in my sister’s honor.”

A handmaid is quick to bring you a chair, the sound of swords colliding once again filling the yard. Aemond’s eager to prove he’s surpassed Ser Criston and judging by the small crowd forming he’s eating the attention right up. You hear distant murmurs and whispers but pay no mind, it must’ve been the women from court again who didn’t know how to keep their mouths shut.

“Just look at their hair..” One of them says.

Everyone knows, father, just look at them..

“Princess? Are you alright, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” you hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath in shock and anticipation the entire time.

The swords have stopped and everything goes still, Aemond stands with the tip of his blade pointed in your direction—not at you, but behind you. He had that crazed look in his eye again. You share a look and rise from your seat slowly.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” Your brother’s tone is cold with bitter hate.

Jacaerys stands dumbfounded and unable to form a response, you watch his (soft, plump) lips part but not a single sound comes.

“Nephews.” You quietly say with the tiniest of nods, “It’s been long hasn’t it? I take it the trip over was comfortable, was it not?”

Neither Lucerys nor Jacaerys answer at first with the younger curly-headed boy awkwardly muttering his response, very unbefitting of the next Lord of the Tides.

You barely spare him a look as you turn to Jacaerys, “Would you like me to show you your rooms? I’m sure they’ve been prepared already.”

“..We would appreciate it,” he finally replies, his voice no longer squeaky and high—rather low and suave, “seeing as there was no one to properly welcome us earlier.” His snarky response makes your skin crawl and your temper flare, but for appearances you reel yourself in.

“Apologies, nephews—it’s been a rather exhausting day preparing for the guests.” You force a polite smile.

He fixes you with a dark stare, his gaze dropping from your lips and then back up, “Mm.”

“Follow me,” you hum disappearing into the castle with the two Velaryon boys following close.

Neither one of you made an attempt to speak. What was there to talk about, they were practically strangers and you doubted Lucerys would’ve enjoyed recounting the last time the three of you had the pleasure of sharing the same roof. Jacaerys on the other hand must’ve believed you to be a fool if he thought you hadn't noticed him looking.

Annoyance runs hot through your veins as you finally reach the wing where their rooms sat, “I hope everything is to your liking, don’t hesitate to ask if you need something.”

‘Thank you.’ You hear Lucerys mumble but Jacaerys offers nothing but his heavy stare. “I’ll see you later,” your voice is soft and silky but the lingering (wanton) look you give speaks in volumes.

“Later.” You hear him faintly reply once you’re out of earshot, you can’t help the tiny smirk on your lips.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Court was as you expected—boring and another waste.

You stood by sweet Helaena, who was equally bored, listening as the second son of Driftmark cried over being replaced by a child. A bastard no less, you could only imagine the embarrassment he must have went through—or rather going through because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting a rest from it anytime soon.

During his speech you made eye contact a few times with Jacaerys. You don’t know why it felt natural, like gravity pulled your gaze to him over and over. When you would look he was already watching with the same hunger from before.

The whole fiasco ended in total failure because Vaemond’s killed leaving no challenger. You’re not surprised things worked out in Rhaenyra’s favor after your father wobbled his way to the throne and then had to be carried out because he overexerted himself.

Aemond shields both you and Helaena from the dead body lying on the floor, “That’s enough for today, you’re all dismissed. Someone dispose of the body.” Otto barks through the mess caused by Daemon.

You manage to sneak a last look before being ushered out by your mother and brothers. The walk back quiet and awkward, what was there to say?

“That was..something.” Aegon finally breaks the tense silence.

Your mother doesn’t reply and Aemond snorts, “It was another mess that’s what it was.” You murmur loud enough for them to hear, “Like always, they make a spectacle of themselves and father comes to save the day.”

“Should’ve known father would do that.” Aemond adds in, and it’s true.

You already knew the petition against Rhaenyra’s children of all people would be useless. It was as if the king had a sixth sense when it came to Rhaenyra. Funnily, he was sick enough to be bedridden these past years but well enough to come defend his first born one final time.

“Helaena, why don’t we take the children to the gardens? I’m sure we could both use some fresh air.” You find yourself asking, desperate to forget.

You end up spending the afternoon with Helaena in the gardens talking about everything and nothing. It was always a relaxing affair when it came to your sister and her children. You liked lounging around and watching the twins with a lazy eye. It felt nice having this small escape, kept you from ripping your own hair out over the family drama.

You’re in the middle of playing with Jaehaerys when your mother’s sworn shield interrupts, “Forgive me princesses but your mother has sent me to escort you to tonight's dinner with the king, he has requested all his children be present.”

Helaena’s smile fades and your mood is spoiled for the day, of course the king would pull a stunt like this.

“Hel.” You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved she merely relaxes under your touch. The two of you hesitantly part from the children after promising sweets and more playtime.

Everyone’s barely arriving with your seat being between Aemond’s and grandsire. Aemond looks disinterested (as does everyone else) but you try to put up a farce for the dying old man being carried in. It was possibly his last dinner, might as well make it a memorable one you suppose.

No one wants to speak, Aegon’s got his hands cupped in front of him in exasperation like he’s itching to reach for his wine goblet. Helaena is mumbling to herself mostly and Rhaenyra’s other children stare at their plates.

“Father,” all eyes are on you, “forgive me as I know it was your wish for us to dine together but I’m feeling unwell and would like to rest if I may..” You trail off softly placing your hands on the table, ready to flee.

Jacaerys is still looking down at his plate with a deathly tight grip on his fork. The old croak waves his hand dismissively, smiling painfully, “Yes, go on that’s fine.” He offers a gentle nod at most, you don’t think he even remembers your name.

“Thank you, if you’ll excuse me.” You bow politely,

quickly moving for the exit without a spare glance.

You hear another voice but you can’t make out what they said other than the sound of a chair being pushed out. Something was telling you it was your Strong boy and the thought brings a mischievous smirk to your face as you look over at your sworn shield.

“Leave me, I’ll retire to my rooms alone; you’re dismissed.” You calmly begin walking away.

“But Princess—”

“Go Ser, I will be fine.” You leave no room for argument and hear him reluctantly let out a sigh before heading in the opposite direction.

With the guard handled you find your way through the halls humming in high valyrian until you reach your destination: the king’s council room. It’s dimly lit inside by candles, the windows are open with sounds of small folk singing and dancing heard below.

The slightest creak has you looking to the side without turning your head, “Unwell you said, you must like lying a lot..” He trails off in amusement as he plays with an ornament nearby.

“And what have I lied about nephew? Enlighten me.” You reply softly.

There’s no denying the thrill you’re getting out of this, Jacaerys was bold for following you like this, in a room all alone with no guards around. The secrecy excited you because if anyone were to find you two together—oh they’d think the worst.

An unwed maiden and the prince bastard of Dragonstone.

“You’re acting dense on purpose, putting up a farce—tell me does it make you feel better? Your words, actions—they’re insulting. I don’t think for a moment you’ve had a change of heart.” He scowls, stopping short of the king’s chair.

You spin around to face him with your hands behind your back, “Whatever do you mean?” You can’t help but bat your doe eyes.

Jacaerys hesitates for a second, “You know what I mean, do you take me for a fool.” He says low and threatening, ever so guarded with you.

“Hmm, I’m afraid I don’t know and if you’re just going to keep repeating yourself the door is right there.” You enjoy the look of anger on his face and part your lips to speak once more when he stops you with a hand on your forearm.

The touch is hot, scorching even as you feel the rush of arousal and excitement hit you all at once. No one has ever grabbed you this roughly, or been in the same proximity long enough to keep their head (you had your own way of dealing with unwanted advances).

Yet, Jacaerys still has his hand.

The audacity. “Let go you—” You move to slap him but he grabs your wrist just short of connecting to his face.

“You what? Go on, say it,” he eerily whispers as his hot breath fans over your lips.

Your calm demeanor slips and eyes narrow in anger, “You fucking bastard—unhand me right now!” Your yells are muffled when he seals his lips over yours.

You violently flinch backwards, the kiss bruising as you try pushing him off. In response he merely tightens his hold reminding you he was much stronger than the brat he used to be. Where you move he moves and if you take a step back he takes one forward. Jacaerys slips his hand through your hair and tightly grips, yanking you forward to keep you in place whenever you squirm too much for his liking.

You somehow manage to sneak a hand below your skirts for a dagger you kept and without hesitating bring it up intending to puncture his side. He sees and quickly seizes your wrist, squeezing tight as the blade slips and lands with a clank on the ground.

“I can see the way you look at me,” he whispers all breathless and breathy, “and it kills you to know you want a bastard like me doesn’t it—I wonder if you picture the same things I do,” he briefly pauses as his eyes trail over your swollen lips.

He crowds you into the table with a hand dropping to your hip, “It’s only you and I,” his lips connect with your ear trailing downwards, “you don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go.”

Your spine involuntarily arches from his electrifying touch with goosebumps erupting all over. You can’t help the soft gasp when he tugs you towards him by the hip. The very large bulge in his slacks presses stubbornly into your pelvis, hot and throbbing.

“Jacaerys we can’t,” you begin quietly.

“We can’t or you won’t?” He questions dismissively like he doesn’t believe you.

Your lips part and a shaky sigh escapes when he begins leaving open mouthed kisses over your collarbone and shoulders. You pray he doesn’t leave any marks to the naked eye as you’d hate to have to explain the marks on top of your request for moon tea.

“I can’t.” You hope he’d reconsider but to your utter horror Jacaerys sucks harshly over the soft skin of your chest where your tits sit perfectly cupped and pushed together in your dress.

You cry out from the surprise and sensitivity as your hands came up to grip his shoulders tightly. He gives your other tit the same treatment before dropping to his knees with the same lustful look in his eye from earlier.

“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he pleads as if he desperately needed to hear it from your lips.

“I..” Do you really want him as much as he believes you do? The very thought of him defiling and tainting your purity caused a dark swirl of emotions within you—you want all of him.

Jacaerys licks his lips hungrily and pushes up your skirts until he’s settled in front of your soft thighs. His hot breath fans over them as he inches closer until he’s eye level with your moistened, throbbing cunt.

“..Yes,” you find yourself whispering after a few moments.

A pleased rumble leaves him and he closes the distance between him and your aching cunt. The first stroke of his hot tongue over your sticky folds has you keening in pleasure and your eyes rolling shut, head thrown back. You can’t help your lewd moan—all high and breathy.

Jacaerys works his tongue over your throbbing clit in firm strokes, hands greedily feeling every inch of your smooth skin. You choke when he throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, the angle shattering as he gains more access to your soft virginal pussy; ripe for the taking.

His lips part over it and he takes your aching bud into his mouth, vigorously sucking and lapping. “Jacaerys–” You choke out as his fingers tread over your folds dipping in to press against your soppy hole, the digits gliding rather easily aided by your dripping wetness.

His middle finger slips through—poking and prodding—until he breaches and pushes past the resisting barrier. There’s a sharp whine as your cunt flutters, greedily swallowing up his fingers, “Mmn..”

You notice how he gets when he hears you make those filthy little noises, the flick of his tongue sharp and his grip growing just a bit tighter. You can’t help eagerly rolling your hips on his face, shuddering as your bare cunt slides over his hot mouth and the tip of his nose dips between your folds brushing over your clit.

“Oh gods,” you gasp breathlessly, hips baring down faster and your grip on the table getting tighter.

There’s a filthy moan below your skirts, the vibrations against your pussy have you mewling needily. With little strength you manage to smother your cunt over his face again until he decides to stop teasing and seals his mouth over your throbbing clit once again.

You whimper out a garbled version of his name as the pleasure simmers hot in your lower belly. Your release hurdles towards you fast, almost knocking the breath out of you from how intense.

“Fuck Jacaerys..!” You gasp as the coil finally snaps; leaving you with legs spread wide and hips angled down with your clit in his mouth and his fingers curled up inside you.

You’re blinded by the hot white pleasure and the slick dribbling down your thighs (to which he greedily licks it up with loud unabashed slurps and moans). You shakily push his head away from your sore spent pussy, whining when he lands one last lick over your throbbing clit before letting up.

Jacaerys stands before you in a disheveled state with his swollen, glossed over lips. His tunic’s slightly rumpled and hair clearly out of place from being buried under your skirts for so long.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly start but he quickly silences you with another kiss, this one sweeter than the last.

You can’t help your sigh leaning into his touch, he treats you much more delicately than his harsh bruising kisses from before. He handles you like you’re meant to be—gentle, pampering, soft. The sentiment leaves you eager but disappointingly he pulls away and just..leaves? If you hadn’t been so out of breath you’d call out to him.

You lay your hand over your chest shuddering at the cool sensation of drying slick between your thighs. A rational side of you argues it’s for the best things ended before escalating but another wants to seek him out.

“Princess?” You hear one of your ladies in waiting from the other side of the door.

You shove your skirts down and fix your hair in an attempt to look modest. “Princess,” her face relaxes and she approaches you with open arms, “your mother sent me, are you still feeling unwell?”

“I’m fine, I’d like to have a bath now,” you take her arm biting your inner cheek to fight the fierce heat blossoming over them from embarrassment, “you shall speak nothing of this to my mother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.”

No one comments on your troubled look while they bathed and dressed you. They knew better than to poke at the dragon; especially one that was upset.

You’re dressed in a white dainty dress you’d gotten as a gift from Aegon (though you suspected he had other intentions when he gifted it to you). You’re left sitting prettily over soft comforters and cushions, skin still smelling like rich oils and softer than a fox's fur.

“That will be all, thank you.” You bid your ladies good night and see them out just as your sworn shield takes his place in front of your chambers.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Sleep does not come as quickly as you had hoped. You’ve lost count of the hour, too entranced by the crackling firewood and waves hitting the cliffs. The candles have long died out and the moonlight took its place as your source of lighting.

You were tempted to escape to Helaena’s room using the secret tunnels but your sister could either be with Aegon or asleep. Your mother was out of question as she would chastise you about how unbecoming it is of a lady to be sneaking around during the hour of the owl.

(You’d never hear the end of it you’re afraid.)

As you roll over onto your stomach your breath hitches when the soft material glides against your swollen cunt. You quietly hiss and rub your thighs to ease the tension but it only worsens. Your clit pulses wildly, simmering heat boiling in your belly.

“Fuck.” You mutter rolling onto your back with your knees knocked apart, Jacaerys had really done a number on you.

You swallowed harshly thinking about his thick fingers and how your pussy was stretched to the brim. Your cunt flutters as you gasp softly, gods how you wanted to finish what he started earlier in the council room.

Would he lay you down tenderly and fuck you sweet or would he have you like one of those women from the streets of silk? Like a whore bent over and mounted like a bitch where he’d fuck years of hate and anger into you. Anger for what you had done and said about him and his brothers.

The thought does not bother you in the slightest, rather you’re aroused. You don’t have to pretend; all you have to do is let go..

You set your pride aside and slip into slippers sneaking into the secret tunnels. You walk with haste recalling where every room was after Aegon first showed you and Aemond the tunnels. You stand before his door waiting anxiously after giving three hard knocks.

The tunnel floods with light and Jacaerys stands over you, his own body casting a shadow. You stare up at him with parted lips and a dreamy glaze in your eyes. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you closer until your cheek is pressed against his chest.

“Jace,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper yet the grip you have on his robes says otherwise.

He hauls you into his arms leaving you no time to gasp before he’s pinning you onto the silken sheets. He stares down at you intensely, his grip around your wrists tight and secure. Both arms encase you on either side of your head leaving you to marvel up at the Strong Velaryon boy.

Jacaerys says nothing when he tugs his own tunic and robes off with one hand. Each article of clothing falls one by one onto the ground, the bed creaking in protest under his weight as he comes to kneel over you once again.

Throughout this whole ordeal you’ve held intense eye-contact with him, a challenge you most certainly welcomed as he still possessed those flames of desire and anger from before. With a clenched jaw he brings both your wrists to one hand and reaches below with his free to grasp his hard cock.

You can’t help but look, having to bite down on your tongue to hold in the whine that threatened to escape. The weeping head dripped pearly white seed over your soft mound from where he stroked himself. The pulsing heat between your thighs quickly becoming unbearable.

He lowers his hips until his pelvis is smushed into yours, his hard dripping cock trapped between the two of you pressed into your inner thigh. The contact is scalding with the way it throbs, how you yearn for him to take it and fuck you silly with it.

“Jacaerys,” you quietly choke, voice raspy and thick with want & need.

“This will hurt.” He carefully gauges your reaction for any discomfort or hesitance.

“Show me then, my lord Strong. Claim me as you would if I were yours, your ‘plain’ appearance is not of importance to me sweet nephew,” you purr sweetly, “we share blood of the dragon, you and I..”

You decide he needs one last push.

“Imagine a babe just like us…he wouldn’t look like a bastard, no,” his nose flares and grip tightens, “but everyone will know when they see his strong curls—”

A cry spills from your lips as Jacaerys slams his cock into you, buried to the hilt where his soft balls meet your pert cheeks. The pain burns but it’s laced with pleasure in a bittersweet way, still you can’t help the soft hisses that slip through clenched teeth each time he shifts around.

You struggle to house all of him inside, what he lacks in length he makes up for in girth; fat and thick with swollen pussy lips stretched around him wrapped tight and snug. To your utter surprise however, he’s not upset at your small jab—he looks as if he were actually picturing a child with you.

“And yet you still lie beneath me, speared on a bastard’s cock,” he grunts.

Jacaerys rolls his hips, not giving you any time to adjust, “You’ll bear my children fearing they won’t come out like their father—brown hair,” thrust, “brown eyes,” thrust, “every bit of me.” He whispers low and menacing in your ear, his speed relentless and punishing.

The stinging pleasure worsens and your eyes water, it’s a sort of bone deep pleasure balanced out by the pain that was beginning to dull. You were powerless under the Velaryon Prince as you could only helplessly toss your head back from the sweet pain.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? To have my bastards?” He licks his lips and switches his pace to a more smoother one, still jabbing nonetheless but albeit more calmer.

You grit your teeth in refusal to answer, but he didn’t need your answer as he descended upon your lips hungrily and fucked into you faster. Your moans get swallowed up by both him and the slick accompanying his wet thrusts causing you to burn with embarrassment over your filthy coupling.

Your traitorous gaze drops downwards again, the sight leaving you in breathless awe. He has specks of blood smeared against his skin, his cock faring no better as it’s covered in creamy pink. You experimentally squeeze around him just to watch his mouth drop open in a small ‘o’ shuddering through the pleasure.

“Again,” he groans softly, “fuck, more.” He gasps while desperately grinding into you.

You wrap your shaking thighs around his waist and tug him closer until he’s trapped against you unable to pull out. He huffs and kisses your sweaty skin, his hips tilting to bump and grind into that sensitive spot from before.

“Oh Jacaerys,” your back arches and toes curl.

Throaty little moans spill from his lips over each rhythmic squeeze around his swollen cock. He fucks into that soft sticky heat just listening to the filthy wet sounds your cunt makes. He enjoys the soft thwacks of his balls slapping against your taint, splattering creamy slick over the sheets.

“Oh,” you shudder, peak hitting harder than ever

You feel the warmth and utter bliss/satisfaction when you come down from your high. Dollops of wet slick spill from the sides of your stuffed pussy, a phantom pulsing sensation most likely from the aftermath of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” He bites back his needy moan, pressing deeply to ensure every drop gets buried in your cunt. It seemed like you were going to pay a visit to the maestar soon for moon tea.

However you were far more concerned about your ability to walk, you could barely even feel the space between your legs much less your cunt and knees.

༺ ──────────── ༻

Peace never really lasts long in the Red Keep, not with the never ending feud between both your families.

From what you heard, shortly after Jacaerys left you the first time he joined dinner again only to find himself punching Aemond while Aegon slammed Lucerys into his plate. Aemond had done it again with his taunts over your nephew’s legitimacy.

Rhaenyra was leaving again after those years gone, which meant Jacaerys would be gone too. You hadn’t voiced your displeasure nor let it show when the boys were seen off to their dragons at the pit. You hid by a column, peeking out watching them saddle up for their journey home.

Jacaerys doesn’t notice you at first but when he does he stops and his gaze softens with pity. “Aunt.” He greets striding over with his arms behind his back.

“Jacaerys.” You greet quietly, refusing to meet his eyes in a stubborn act of defiance.

He tilts your chin up gently and forces you to look, “This doesn’t have to be the end you know,” he brushes a stray hair from your face, “unless you want to stop?”

“I don’t,” you find yourself snapping quicker than he can finish which makes him smile, “you know I don’t. I just don’t see how it’s possible to continue..this, if you’re so far away on Dragonstone.” You mumble and cup his cheek.

Jacaerys leans into your touch with a hum, “I’m a dragon ride away my love,” your cheeks burn at the endearment, “I’ll send ravens if I have to—you don’t need to worry about a single thing.”

You gently peck his lips and sigh, “..If you don't write to me, I will..” You trail in high valyrian whilst squeezing his hand until it pops threateningly. He laughs low and brings your hand up to kiss, instantly quelling your temper.

“I swear it,” he replies, kissing your knuckles once more despite Luke calling out to him in the background, his dragon calling out for him.

You allow a soft smile as you whisper ‘go’, no doubt your mother would be looking for you as well. You watch him leave your side once again only this time you knew he’d be returning sometime soon as the king neared the hour of death.

No one knew of your little letters you exchanged with Jacaerys over the course of weeks. He would send you flowers and other things he’d find around Dragonstone while you sent perfumed handkerchiefs or oil scented letters.

You knew he particularly loved when the paper smelled like you. (You’d be rewarded with vulgar responses.)

‘My beloved, everything reminds me of you and how you might enjoy this if you were here. I’d give anything to have you here by my side dressed in Targaryen colors. I personally think red suits you best my love, don’t you think? I’ll have a dress tailored to fit in all the right places, perhaps we can arrange a slit for easy access? You’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?’

If your mother noticed your odd behavior, she didn’t comment. Alicent knew very well what a lovestruck girl looked like as she had been one herself not too long ago. No one comments on the frequent visits to the dragon pit where you’d disappear for hours on end returning once the moon had risen.

The illusion shatters however when Viserys dies.

Right away your mother and grandsire crown Aegon as king. You should feel indifferent about the throne but you can’t help the ugly feeling you get upon seeing Aegon the conqueror's crown over your brother’s head. He was no king. He was not made to be king.

War was coming. With Aegon usurping Rhaenyra, as if that wasn’t enough, Aemond goes and fucking kills your nephew in some petty child’s game.

You heard the boy sunk into the waters after Vhagar mauled his tinier dragon. When you were flying over you heard Vermax’s loud cries of anguish, no doubt feeling his riders emotions as Jacaerys mourned Lucerys.

Your own dragon cried out in return as you swiftly landed and hopped off, stumbling through the sand as Jacaerys quickened his pace. You meet each other halfway with him falling into your arms, brokenly sobbing.

His loud cries are drowned out by the harsh waves hitting shore and seagulls flying around. At that very moment it’s only you and him standing on that beach wrapped up in each other’s arms. You press a series of kisses against his temple, tightening your hold when you feel him tremble.

“Shh.. sh, my love. I’m here.” You murmur soothingly.

Jacaerys swallows harshly, “He…he killed him,” he croaks out, “he’s gone.” It physically hurts seeing him unable to speak, just choking up over his words like a little boy crying for his mother.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

You hold him until he grows tired of sobbing, resorting to softer sniffles as he cowers in your hold. Jacaerys has a death grip around your waist where his fingers dig into you unknowingly. “I can’t lose you.” He mutters.

You will never forget the haunting look in his eye. Jacaerys had already lost his brother, he would not be losing you either..

༺ ──────────── ༻

..A son for a son they said after the ratcatchers beheaded Jaehaerys in his sleep.

You were up for days unable to process the grief and horror, moreso you felt for Helaena (beautiful Helaena who hadn’t deserved any of this). The way your mother had allowed the death of a child—her own blood—to be handled was despicable.

You saw Otto Hightower for what he was: a power hungry cunt. Your own brothers were strangers to you, Aemond having killed his own nephew in cold blood and Aegon a bloodthirsty idiot who didn’t know what he was doing.

You understand why Viserys favored Rhaenyra now.

“He’s a fool, mother was right to tell him he would be more useful doing nothing,” you sharply reply.

You’re in Jacaerys’ room after a sneaky endeavor in his bed all afternoon, complaining about your stupid brothers. Your lover lays on his side with a hand supporting his head listening attentively with a loving gaze.

“What was it you said that he told Aemond—I can have to make a war?” Jacaerys snorts in amusement brushing his fingers through your hair.

“He’s an idiot. It’s a wonder anyone can actually stand being in the same room as him, if he’s not crying about Aemond making plans behind his back then he’s crying that no one respects him.” You shake your head.

“Hm, my mother still thinks we can avoid war,” he sighs deeply, “if only it were easy, right?” He slides your hand in his, holding it tightly while stroking over your knuckles with his thumb.

You can’t help but squeeze back, “Patience my love, everyone already sees how incompetent Aegon is. He’s already the usurper in their eyes and nobody really listens to him so to speak.”

“Suppose you're right about a few things.” Jacaerys’ gaze drops to your plush lips, still swollen and bitten-raw from his punishing little nips and aggressive kissing.

Your stomach swoops with excitement as a playful grin forms over your lips, “Only a few things?” You lean down to whisper, lips inches away from his.

He smiles lazily and cups your cheeks, “Of course not you know I trust your judgment, my love.” He mumbles soothingly while brushing over your loose curls.

He looks beautiful like this—the sheets hung low around his bare hips and the love bites littered across his shoulders and neck. You’d like to stay forever like this with him, all tangled up and the only sounds being your soft voices and the waves hitting the cliffs by his open window.

“Do you? Or is my prince only saying that because he desires a kiss?”

It’s comical the way Jacaerys lights up like a child faced with a fresh batch of lemon cakes. He eagerly slots his lips over yours and draws your naked body closer to him until his stirring cock is pressed flush against your hip—still coated in wet slick and oils from earlier.

You reach with one hand to tangle it through his soft curls, yanking his head back, “That isn’t an answer my love; does my prince want a kiss or not?” You ask firmer this time.

His eyes hollow darkly as he licks his lips, “May I? Your prince desires it.” He whispers low and breathy. When he says it like that you simply can’t deny as you eagerly press into him.

Jacaerys wraps his arms around your back and hauls you under him pinning you down against the soft sheets. You moan into his mouth reaching below to grasp his heavy cock in your soft palm and squeezing the head.

“Seems he desires more than a kiss,” you husk, tugging at his cock and enjoying the way he chases your touch.

“I want to claim every inch of you until you’re filled with my cum, maybe this time you will catch,” He finishes with a growl in high valyrian.

His cock slides between your sticky folds bumping and slipping against your clit. You angle the tip downward until it catches against your rim with a hitch, “Jace,” you sigh.

You feel every inch until he’s fed your cunt his cock. The stretch is mouthwateringly good, you don’t think you’ll ever find anyone else who could come this close to pleasuring as Jacaerys did. He wastes no time in rocking into you with long forceful thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” you thread your fingers through his hair turning your head away.

Jacaerys messily mouths along your neck and shoulder with muffled groans while desperately covering every inch of your skin with his mouth. You catch him off guard when you wrap your limbs around him and roll the two of you over.

“Lie back my love,” you seductively whisper.

He watches, entranced as you set your hands over his bare chest and push. The delicious weight combined with the heavenly warmth around his cock has his head rearing back and a long moan escaping.

You bite down on your lip taking in his every reaction. From this angle he strikes deep leaving you with a pleasant ache you’d be feeling the coming days. “Oh fuck.” You gasp, hips stuttering in their movements.

Jacaerys gets his hands over your hips and tugs you back down over his lap causing a groan to bubble out of your throat. He uses his newfound grip to bounce you in his lap until a low fopping sound from his thighs smacking into your cheeks fills the room.

Your gasps come out in short stuttered breaths with the occasional ‘mm’ thrown in there. Mid-roll you manage to firmly plant yourself in his lap trapping his fat cock in your wet cunt. You feel it twitching inside, desperate for another release.

Soft ‘ah, ah, ah’s fill the room alongside the sounds of sheets shuffling and seagulls in the distance. You’re lost in the moment basking in sunny rays and hot bubbling pleasure. His grip not once loosening nor slipping.

“Seven hells, you’re going to be the death of me.” He breathlessly groans.

His cock pulses faintly and then you’re being filled with thick spurts of white. He lazily squeezes your soft cheeks, watching with a blissed out expression. While you had yet to reach your own peak, you also didn’t mind just this.

Your hips came to a stop and you found yourself laying over his chest staring out at the orange-pink sky as you mumble, “I love you.”

༺ ──────────── ༻

Helaena hasn’t spoken much about your nephew since the funeral. She says she’s fine but you doubt that’s any true, you supposed she grieved differently. Helaena has always been a special case (in a positive light).

“Aegon left to battle,” you find yourself saying after an hour of silence, “Aemond too.”

Helaena can offer no insight as she kneels before her caged insects, speaking in soft whispers like she usually did, only this time her tone accompanied by her soft hums.

“How is Jaehaera?”

“..Fine.” More humming.

“And what have you embroidered as of lately–”

“You can go,” she softly interrupts, “everything is fine.” You’re stunned, maybe you overstepped and she wasn’t in need of visitors. That was fine, Helaena’s doing fine—

Your sister reaches over to grasp your hands tightly, staring into your eyes, “Everything will be fine. You must leave or else it will be too late,” a pained smile forms over her lips, “you will be one soon, and then two.”

“..what about you?” Your eyes watered, you dread the thought of leaving her here to suffer alone at the hands of Aegon.

Helaena lays a sweet kiss over your head, “There’s a storm coming, it makes flying harder.”

You wipe your tears and shakily nod, embracing her one last time before rushing through the hidden tunnels to your room. In a satchel you threw a few items of importance along with jewelry you doubt you’d need but something in your gut told you otherwise.

It’s easy to slip unnoticed through the tunnels and keep, the city proves much harder. You manage to pass through the small folk using alleys and hidden paths until you’re outside of the dragon pit. None of the dragon keepers question you and simply bring out Melaxes.

She senses your anxiety and begins to whine, “Shh, lykirī.” You’re quick to soothe her by leaning your forehead against her side.

When she calms down you guide her out of the pit, “Soves,” you murmur and Melaxes roars into the sky disappearing into the thick clouds.

You will be one soon, and then two.

Realization dawns: you haven’t bled for two moons now. Your hand immediately comes up to cover the swell of your stomach. Of course, what were you expecting?

You didn’t drink fucking moon tea and Jacaerys never cared to pull off. Your throat tightens up and tears spring to your eyes, “No,” you claw at your collar heaving.

Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Rook’s Rest. Your eyes widened—Larys Strong had heard talks of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Jacaerys going to battle together..

“Naejot!” You plunge forward until Melaxes zips above the sea, you pray to whatever god listening that Jacaerys is there safe and sound waiting for you.

You leave her not too far from the castle as you run up the hill towards the one place you knew he’d have to be. It’s a miracle no one notices Alicent Hightower’s youngest daughter storming through the halls until you reach Rhaenyra’s council room.

No one’s there.

“Oh fuck..” You whisper with a hand over your stomach, “No, no, no, no.” (There’s a loud ringing in your ear and it won’t stop.)

The tears come before you can even stop them as your vision quickly blurs. There’s something in your throat but it won’t come out no matter how much you heave and gag on your saliva.

“Mmn,” you whimper in discomfort and pain while curling away, refusing to believe Jacaerys was gone. You want your mother.

Your arm shakily shoots out to grab onto the stone for balance, “..please,” it comes out as a wheeze.

“y/n?” Was this a cruel dream? Jacaerys frowns and immediately starts walking to your side, “What’s wrong?”

He’s met with your lips and a tight crushing grip when you bury your fingers through his hair. You fiercely smother him in a desperate kiss which draws out a hiss from him when you bite his bottom lip.

“..We have to leave,” you mumble.

“Leave?” He frowns, “What do you mean?”

“Jacaerys, please trust me—we need to go,” you desperately plead.

Jacaerys shakes his head, “y/n you’re not making sense right now, leave where? And what of my mother? What of Baela, Rhaena, Joffrey? What of my duty as heir to the throne? You say it as if it’s so simple.”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Why won’t you just tell me?!” He slams his hand over the table.

“I’m expecting a child,” you choke up, “and I don’t want my baby to die, Jacaerys. I want our baby to live.” You cry softly.

Jacaerys goes eerily still, silently watching you weep all you’ve held in until now. His eyes cast downward over the Targaryen pin on his tunic, glistening under the light shining proudly as a reminder of where he came from.

He says nothing and reaches up to unpin the dragon sigil resting over his shoulder. He reaches over to silently do the same with your own before neatly placing both over the table, releasing his sharp breath.

There’s no other way around this regardless if you stayed or not your child was in danger simply by living and breathing. The Greens would come after you, maybe Aemond would be the one to kill you or perhaps even Daemon. Your child would be dead either way as the king made it obvious how he felt about bastard children.

Jacaerys turns to you with a gentle but pained smile, and in that moment you knew what he chose. Your lip curls sadly and with an outstretched hand you accept him. He squeezes tightly like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air.

“I love you.” He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand manages to sneak between the two of you to press into your stomach where your child would soon grow.

Neither one of you says anything while Jacaerys packs what he plans to take. He writes to Rhaenyra and leaves the letter in plain sight over his desk. It’s quiet but comforting as he leads you to Melaxes and Vermax.

When she finds the letter Rhaenyra weeps. She can’t find it in her to be upset with him and while yes you had been another insolent brat as a child; you were still her half-sister who was now carrying her grandchild.

“If we fly out now we might catch up to them.” Daemon seethes as he paces back and forth before the queen, “This is just absurd, has the boy officially gone mad? A Hightower cunt no less.” He scoffs.

“Leave them, they’ve made their choice and we will make ours.” Rhaenyra shoots a pointed look at anyone who dares protest. She knows she’s vulnerable now that she’s lost two heirs.

..and if she hears the small folk speaking of two dragon riders traveling across the narrow sea, months later after reclaiming Kings Landing; she turns a blind eye and prays.

+ translations:

dohaerās (serve)

daor (no)

lykirī (be calm)

soves (fly)

naejot (forward)

[piastriprincess]

soak  my  scrapes  and  sleep  tight ⸻  oscar  piastri  x  reader  .

featuring  oscar  piastri  ,  established  relationship  ,  oscar  is  the  sweetest  boy  in  the  entire  world tw  blood  (pretty  minimal  but  wanted  to  warn  yall) word  count  1.9k author’s  note  requested  by  @princesspiastri007  aka  my  username  twin  !  i  loved , loved , loved  writing  this  request  .  also ... imagine  my  surprise  when  i  found  out  plasters  were  bandaids  .  i’m  sorry  i’m  a  stupid  american  !!  anyway  i was planning on making this a drabble but it  got  away  from  me  a  lil  because  there  is  something  sooooooo  boyfriend  coded  about  oscar  ,  i’m  obsessed  .  i  need  to  wife  him  up  .  i  hope  you  like  this  ,  as  always  please  come  tell  me  what  you  think  or  send  me  a  request  !  title  is  from  acolyte  by  slaughter  beach  ,  dog  .

23:  princess  plasters  and  iodine .

It’s Oscar’s week off before he has to fly to Miami, and you were planning on a relaxing few days. You’d circled the dates on your calendar weeks ago in thick red Sharpie: no races, no briefings, no media. Just the two of you, together. You’ve packed a bag for the whole weekend, so you don’t have to leave your boyfriend’s company for a single second. 

Your grand plan lasts approximately thirty-seven minutes. You’re just settling in at Oscar’s when your sister calls you in a panic: her job is sending her on a last-minute site visit, and could you please watch Lucy for the weekend? You say yes, of course — how could you not? You love your niece, a precocious, rambunctious little four-year-old, and you love being the cool aunt. You’re sad to lose your weekend with Oscar, but you’re sure he’ll understand. 

“Bad news.” You’re already half-apologizing, forehead scrunched as you hang up the phone and walk back into Oscar’s living room. He’s lying on the couch, engrossed in a Sally Rooney book he stole off your bookshelf a few months ago. “I have to postpone our weekend. My sister needs me to watch Lucy.” 

He dog-ears his page, setting the book carefully on the coffee table and looking up at you with that soft smile he reserves just for you. “Sounds fun. I’m excited to meet her,” he says nonchalantly, and your breath catches in your throat.

You’re not sure what you expected Oscar to say. Certainly not that he’d give up his first weekend off in a month to help you babysit a kid he’s never met. But if you’re being honest with yourself, it’s not the first time he’s stepped into the hurricane that is your life like it’s second nature — quiet, calm, already carrying half the weight without you even asking. He grounds you. It’s one of the things you like best about him. 

You perch carefully on the couch next to him, running your fingers through his hair. He sighs, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “Osc, she’s four. She’s a ball of energy, and this is supposed to be your weekend off. I don’t wanna ruin it,” you reply reluctantly.  He’s shaking his head before you even finish talking, looking up at you with those big brown eyes, gaze steady and sure. “Baby. What would ruin my weekend is not getting to spend it with you.” Something unfurls in your chest at that, soft and tender. He presses up on his elbows, already getting to his feet and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Now come on. Get your bag, I’ll drive.”

—

An hour later, Oscar pulls into your sister’s driveway, slinging both of your weekend bags over his shoulder like they’re feather-light and taking your hand in his as you walk up to her front stoop. She must have seen you coming (to be fair, his cherry-red McLaren isn’t exactly subtle), because she’s already halfway out the door. You barely have time for her to give you a frantic thank you and tell Oscar it’s lovely to see him again. A quick kiss on the cheek and just like that, she’s disappearing into the Uber that’s been idling by the curb, the driver peeling away to the airport like he’s P1 on the starting grid. 

“Last chance to back out,” you say wryly to Oscar. 

He gives your hand a little squeeze, palm warm and comforting in yours, and you can feel the tension in your shoulders ease. “I’m staying right here.”

You open the door to a blur of light-up sneakers and Lucy throwing her arms around your legs in an enthusiastic hug. She looks the same as always: hair pulled into messy pigtails, tiara headband set just slightly askew, sparkly nail polish on her tiny fingers, and her ratty old unicorn blankie tucked under her arm. She’s beaming at you so hard her cheeks stretch, but the smile fades when she sees Oscar. 

“Who’s that?” she demands, hands on her hips. 

You smile at her, crouching so you’re on her level. “Lucy, this is Oscar. Can you say hi?”

She ignores you completely. “Are you her boyfriend?” she asks, wide, suspicious eyes trained directly on his face.

Oscar’s neck flushes, the way it always does when he’s nervous. He wants her to like him, you realize, and your heart does an unfamiliar little swoop in your chest. He clears his throat. “I am, Your Highness,” he replies, smiling softly at her. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Lucy purses her lips slightly, like she’s sizing him up. Oscar’s eyes flick to you worriedly, and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear he was holding his breath. Then she smiles at him. “You too. Do you want to have a tea party with me?”

“It would be my honor,” he nods seriously at her. She grabs his hand - his fingers, really, since his hand is too big for her to hold onto - and pulls him into the living room, leaving you behind with the bags in the entryway.

Thirty seconds of Oscar, and it’s like you don’t even exist to Lucy anymore. You’d be upset, if it wasn’t so understandable. After all, you fell in love with Oscar the moment you met him too. 

—

You swear it only takes you a minute to put your bags upstairs in the guest room, but when you get back you’re in for an absolute sight. Your boyfriend is sitting next to the Ikea stuffed bear you bought Lucy for her birthday last year, legs criss-crossed neatly beneath him. The silvery tiara he’s wearing glints under the overhead lights, his face peeking out from atop a fluffy pink-feather boa. He’s holding a plastic teacup in his hand delicately, listening to Lucy’s narration of her fairytale kingdom’s dynamics with the kind of focus you’ve seen him use for team briefings. Your chest feels tight suddenly as you watch him from the doorway, a strange, sweet ache blooming underneath your skin. 

“Hi, baby,” he smiles at you when he sees you, those honey-brown eyes crinkling at the edges. Oh, you’re a goner. You move towards him on instinct, dropping gracefully to your knees beside him. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and you slot into his side like you were made to be there. You let yourself enjoy the quiet warmth of his body, solid and strong beside you as Lucy chatters away about stuffed animal etiquette in the late afternoon light. Suddenly, it’s like you can see it — the echo of future quiet afternoons, grocery lists on the fridge, a life built of small, perfect moments with him. You wonder, just for a moment, if he feels it too. 

“Wait!” Lucy brings you back to the present as she interrupts herself, her tiny brows knitting together. “You can’t come to the tea party without a tiara. Princesses have to have tiaras.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Your Highness,” you reply, playing along, though your cheeks are still flushed. “How silly of me. I’ll go get one.” 

You’re about to stand when Oscar’s fingers curl around your wrist gently. “I got it,” he says softly, his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles before all five feet, ten inches of him extend to full height. He moves just a little too fast, you try to stop him just a little too late, and when he stands up he smacks his head hard into the sloping ceiling. You wince at the dull crack, the way the tiara shatters into shiny plastic shards, one cutting a jagged gash into his pale skin. 

“Ow,” Oscar says mildly, pressing a hand to his forehead. 

Lucy gawks at him, openmouthed. “Oh no, Princess Oscar!”

—

“It’s really not that bad,” Oscar says, and you know he’s trying to reassure you, to soothe the way your pulse is stuttering erratically beneath your skin. As always, he’s the picture of calm, sitting patiently on the closed toilet lid while you rummage through the first aid kit your sister keeps under the bathroom sink. The wad of toilet paper you made him hold to the cut is starting to stain crimson-red. 

“You can’t even see it,” you reply, your fingers closing around the bottle of iodine as you emerge from the cabinet triumphantly. “It's awful. Zak’s going to fine me for scratching up his driver.”

“You’ve done worse before,” he smirks cheesily at you, eyes half-lidded, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat as you swat at his arm playfully. His legs are too long for the small room; you have to crawl over them to get to a spot where you can clean him up. You place a hand on his thigh as you move, to stabilize yourself, and he goes pink up to his ears. Now there’s your Oscar, you think to yourself as you pour the iodine onto a cotton pad. 

“This might sting a bit,” you warn him. 

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine,” he insists, right before hissing through his teeth when you dab at the cut. 

You stick your tongue out at him. “Be brave, Princess Oscar.” 

He laughs outright at that, and his eyelashes flutter against your wrist. A warm twist curls low in your stomach at the contact. “Right,” you say, pulling the box of bandages from behind your back. They’re princess-themed, of course. Fitting. “Aurora or Ariel?”

“Ariel,” he responds instantly, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “What?” he shrugs, smiling at you. “I know the princesses, I have sisters.”

You peel the wrapper open carefully and smooth the bandage across his cut, gentle and precise. He’s quiet for a moment, watching you, the way your fingers ghost over his skin, the way you care for him like it’s an instinct. 

“You know, if this is what the future looks like, I think I’d be really happy,” Oscar says absentmindedly, and your heart stutters in your chest.

His eyes widen at the same time yours do, and he presses his lips together like he didn’t quite mean to say it out loud. Like it was a thought he was holding close to his heart until he knew you’d be ready to hear it.

You stare at him, your lips parted. His cheeks are slightly pink from the confession, and you’re so close you can see the honey brown of his irises. It’d be so easy to kiss him right now, and you’re not in the habit of denying yourself simple pleasures. So you dip your mouth to his, fingers curling loosely at the nape of his neck.

He makes a soft, surprised noise against your lips, one hand rising instinctively to rest at your waist. The kiss is unhurried, familiar, but there’s something new about it. It feels like a promise, so meaningful that it makes your breath catch in your chest. It’s a moment before you both come up for air, but when you pull back he’s looking at you like he’s trying to memorize everything about the moment. 

“Yeah,” you smile at him, easy and unhurried. “I could get used to this.”

[thatonetargaryen]

My Tears Ricochet

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Part One of: Our Tears Ricochet

Synopsis: You and Ambessa have been married for nearly two decades—and your love was one many people could only dream of achieving. But when your wife leaves overseas to visit her daughter, you strained relationship finally reaches it’s peak.

cw; afab!reader; angst ; infidelity ; local cuisine makes an appearance ; suggestive behavior ; Ambessa being a bad wife

Special thanks to @hell0-ki55y for the prompt. I hope you like it :). Might do ‘Pretty In Pink’ one next.

……

The warm ocean breeze flowed through your (h/c) hair as you gazed upon the horizon. The ship slightly rocked side to side, and you knew you were bond to get seasick soon.

You were currently on your way to visit your wife—the formidable General Ambessa Medarda. She had recently took leave from Noxus to come to Piltover, though her reasons were scattered. You two shared a constant stream of letters back and forth, and she told you how the journey went and her rants of disgust towards the council. Sometimes that’s all she wrote to you about. You didn’t mind. What you did mind—however—was when the letters stopped coming.

It started off small—you wrote one letter to her and didn’t get a reply. Simply shrugging it off and saying to yourself ‘maybe it got lost in the mail’, you sent another….and another…and another. It didn’t take long for you to suspect something.

Piltover was as greedy as they are unpredictable. While you doubt they would’ve done anything to Ambessa (considering they would lose much,much more than they’d gain), you wouldn’t take any chances. Anything could’ve happened.

She could’ve fallen ill—or worse. At first the thought of it simply slipping her mind was there, but it quickly vanished. Ambessa was never one to let anything associated with you slip her mind.

What really set your suspensions high was when her daughter, Mel Medarda—who you had a close relationship with for most of her life, one you cherished—replied to a letter you sent asking about Ambessa.

‘You should come see for yourself.’

The sentence left you in a state of confusion—but also reassurance. Ambessa was fine, but….something was wrong. It wasn’t how your wife doing….

It was what your wife was doing.

……

The ship finally arrived at the docks of Piltover. The few servants and guards that were aboard the ship disembark and helped you unload the few bags you brought with you.

You looked around—searching for Ambessa. You had sent a letter saying you were worried for her and would sail there, but you knew she hadn’t gotten it.

Instead, you were met with the council member and your lovely step-daughter—Mel.

She smiled as you approached. It had been a while seen you’d seen each other, and she towered over you. You engulfed her in a big, warm hug—one that she seemed to desperately need.

“Oh, Mel…”, you said into her shoulder.

“Mother…”, she whispered back. She had gave you the title years ago, yet sometimes, you still felt you didn’t deserve it.

The two of you shared a moment of silence, taking in each other. Her gaze was soft and warm, yet pity lied beneath it.

You smiled and held onto her shoulders. “Mel, look how much you’ve grown!”

She laughed, “Wish I could say the same for you.”, she said as she gazed down at your shorter frame.

You bumped your hip against yours as you two intertwined your arms. “I stopped growing many, many years ago. It’s something I’ve came to peace with.”

The two of you continued to talk as your servants and guards trailed you with your few belongings. You commented on the things you saw, asked Mel how her position as a councilwoman was, and who her new boy-toy was all about. She visibly cringed when you brought him up. Though, she would’ve dwelled more on that topic than the one involving the whole reason you came here.

“What’s going on with your mother?”, you finally asked.

Mel looked around, now slightly uncomfortable. She replied to you with a simple “Hm” as the two of you continued walking. You halted her in her tracks.

“Hm? Really? Your mother’s acting weird..and now you too?”

She bit the inside of her mouth before she sighed, now fully facing you. “Did you notice anything strange before she left?”

You were taken aback by her question, but after a moment of thinking , you answered, “Well, she has been quite distant as of late. But, you know how she can get. And she hasn’t been reply to the letters I’ve sent her.”

Mel looked at you as if she had solved a puzzle—the thoughts connecting in her mind. But there wasn’t an ounce of celebration on her face. She grabbed both of your hands, contemplating what to say next. “I’ll take you to see her. She’s not far from here.”

You looked at Mel in confusion, while she took you softly by the hand and led you towards Ambessa.

The rest of the walk was spent in an uncomfortable silence.

……

You arrived at a beautiful building. While the sight of it was breathtaking—it was as just as plain as the rest of Piltover.

Mel nodded towards the entrance. “She’s in there”, she whispered.

You nodded, and signaled for your servants and guards to wait here. You hiked your skirt and began to ascend up the white stairs. You spared one more glance in Mel’s direction, and found her speaking with your servants and guards. Your excitement was uncontrollable as you got closer and closer to the entrance. You hadn’t seen your wife in weeks—and the things you wanted to do to her were unspeakable. You bit your bottom lip just thinking about it.

For a moment, you could hear was sounded like men’s laughter. You brushed it off, until you heard it again—though this time it was muffled.

What had taken you aback the most—however—was the sound of your wife’s deep, low breaths. The ones she made when she…

No.

After an eternity, you reached the top of the stairs. And it took everything in you not to scream right then and there.

There Ambessa was, her back turned to you as she sat upon a large, lavish couch. From where you stood, you could see her the coils of her grey hair fall on her shoulders as she laid back. Sat perched on her lap was a man—with fiery auburn hair and pale skin. He was petite and charming—almost like a woman. His lips were full as he licked them and his green hungry eyes raked over your wife’s frame.

Her honey-kissed hands roamed his body in ways only she had promised to touch you in. You felt a mix of emotions all at once at the sight. Anger, resentment, confusion, surprise, sadness. You wanted to scream and shout. Every painting and vase in the room didn’t know how much you wanted to break it.

But instead of doing any of that, you simply whispered her name.

“Ambessa?”

The man’s eyes shot open as he suddenly looked towards you. Embarrassment and surprise was evident on his face, but he made no move to get off Ambessa’s lap.

Your wife finally turned around to catch your eye, and you’d never seen her looked so surprised. Looking her in the eye was your breaking point as you rushed out the room, hot tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N!”, she called out your name, but to no avail. She moved to get up, but noticed the twink still on her lap.

“Get off me, you fool!”, she roughly pushed him off. He fell to the floor with a thud and stared at Ambessa’s frame as she raced out the room. The wine was long gone—now spilled across the once white pristine floor.

“Wait! Y/N!”, she called out once again. She looked around frantically, and noticed some of her guards stationed at the bottom of the stairs.

“Stop her!”, she commanded, but they ignored her as they ushered you into a car.

Mel closed the door just as her mother was about to approach. She pulled on the handle, only to find it locked.

She stopped to look inside the glass, and found the last person she was expecting—Mel. She looked at her mother sternly in disappointment through the glass. There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy. She simply shook her head. With a wave of her hand, the car was off.

Ambessa stood there dumbfounded, angry, and regretful.

[alive-gh0st]

❝Corruption Complete❞

Mark Grayson x Brainrot Girlfriend!Readerᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

𓊆ྀིfeat. Oliver & Debbie Grayson𓊇ྀི

˗ˏˋ 𓉘 Part 2 — ”Too Far Gone” 𓉝 ˎˊ˗

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

🦖 summary: mark’s trying to enjoy a quiet night at home. too bad his girlfriend has just discovered a new hyperfixation—and now oliver’s in on it. debbie joins next. mark’s officially outnumbered.

‪‪🦖 contains: sfw. modern brainrot. fandom jokes. long-suffering boyfriend!Mark. brainrot!reader. tiktok trends. group roasting. oliver is a smug little shit. debbie is thriving. mark just wants peace. comedic fluff, banter, affectionate roasting, domestic vibes. silly chaos.

‪‪🦖 wc: 722

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: i wrote this instead of doing literally anything productive. it started as a joke and now it’s got lore. enjoy my descent. also, yes—i know, the title is 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It started innocently enough.

You were sprawled on the couch, eyes glued to your phone, tears streaming down your face as you watched an AI-generated TikTok video.

“Mark—Mark, look!” You shoved your phone in his face. It almost smacked him in the nose, but it’s fine. He’s literally [Title Card].

Moving on.

He squinted at the screen. “Is that… a cat in a firefighter uniform?”

“Yes! It’s so tragic and inspiring. The kitten was rescued from a fire, grew up to become a firefighter, and then died heroically saving a child. And—listen to this—it reunited with its grandma in the afterlife.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “You cried over an AI-generated cat video?”

“It’s not just a video, Mark. It’s art.”

➽─────────❥

The descent into chaos was swift.

A few days later, Oliver burst into the living room (nearly crashing into a wall), eyes wide with excitement.

“Have you seen the ‘Ballerina Cappuccina’ trend?!” he blurted, practically vibrating.

You gasped, sitting up. “Yes! The one with the cappuccino-headed ballerina pirouetting into the void?”

Oliver nodded vigorously. “It’s peak brainrot.”

Mark groaned from the kitchen. “Not you too, Oliver.”

“It’s a cultural movement, Mark.” Oliver said, deadpan.

Not even ten minutes later, real chaos began…..Debbie’s curiosity was piqued.

She entered the kitchen, holding her phone while pursing her lips.

“Kids, what’s this ‘Bombardino Crocodilo’ thing?”

You and Oliver made eye contact, then—without speaking—played the audio simultaneously: “FORZA BOMBA!”

Debbie blinked. Then looked at Mark—who didn’t even look up, just slumped lower against the cabinets like the universe was personally attacking him.

“Well, that’s… something.”

➽─────────❥

A quiet evening turned into a bonding session.

With Mark and Oliver out training because let’s be real—that boy needs some serious teaching, you and Debbie settled on the couch. She sipped her wine, a mischievous glint in her eye like she’s about to drop a bomb.

“You know,” Debbie says casually, “Nolan once gave me a whole tree instead of flowers.”

You blink, taking your eyes off the TV. “Like… an actual tree?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘Why bring a branch when I can bring the whole organism?’”

“I kept it,” she says. “Still in the backyard. Useless man, but decent taste in flora.”

You clutch your heart. “That’s the bar. If Mark doesn’t deliver a redwood to my house within 72 hours, we’re over.”

As if summoned Mark walks back into the house with snacks and an expression of pure betrayal. “I brought you chips.”

“Does the chip bag photosynthesize?” you ask sweetly.

➽─────────❥

The ‘Pass the Phone’ challenge ensued.

Feeling strangely inspired (which should’ve been a red flag), you declared: “Let’s do the ‘Pass the Phone’ challenge!”

Everyone agreed way too quickly.

You started the recording. “I’m passing the phone to someone who still doesn’t understand TikTok.”

Mark raised a brow, sighed like a man defeated, and took the phone. “I’m passing the phone to someone who’s been on TikTok for five minutes and already has a fan club.”

He passed it to Oliver.

The purple boy—who was just happy to be here—beamed straight up at the phone screen. “I’m passing the phone to someone who once received a tree as a romantic gesture!”

He hands it to Debbie, who only laughs.

“Guilty as charged.”

➽─────────❥

╒════════════════𝜗𝜚

ACTUAL QUOTES FROM THE EVENING:

➥ „I swear to god if you post that TikTok—”

➥ „Too late. It’s already at 40k views. You’re famous now, tragedy boy.”

➥ „You said you wouldn’t bring up Amber! And—why are people simping over my MUM!”

➥ „Because she’s a baddie, Mark.”

ꪆৎ════════════════╛

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

•∘˙○˚.⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨🐊୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ∘˙○˚.•

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Mark stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching his mom and little brother conspire with you over delusional fan theories and imaginary men.

“…I want in,” he said.

Everyone froze.

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I’m tired of fighting it. I need to understand the brainrot. Teach me your ways.”

Oliver threw his arms in the air. “HE’S CONVERTING.”

Debbie raised her wineglass. “To the dark side.”

You grinned, scooting over and patting the space beside you. “Welcome to hell, babe. First lesson—rank these fictional men based on how they would treat you.”

Mark sighed. “I already regret this.”

“You will,” you promised. “Now take this blanket. We’re about to watch a seven-part edit of Tim Cheese killing John Pork.”

“…and no, you can’t ask questions.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ With Love, @alive-gh0st

[bucks-babe]

Virgin Bucky Gets His First Blowjob

Paring: Virgin!Bucky x f!reader

Summary: You give your boyfriend his first blowjob

Word Count: 2,148

Warnings: Established relationship, smut (Oral m!receiving), kind of sub!Bucky, Bucky is a nervous boy and gets a hard on during a movie, Bucky has a praise kink, Virgin!Bucky, No use of Y/N

A/N: Should I make a part 2 where Bucky loses his virginity to reader?

“Okay, doll, I’ve got everything set up. You pick a movie yet?” Bucky settles down next to you in his bed, making sure that there is no space separating the two of you. He wraps his right arm around your shoulder and you snuggle up into his side.

Your laptop is resting on both of your laps, your left thigh and his right thigh hold it in place. “Yes, and it’s one of my favorites!” You bounce in place just a little. “You’re gonna love it, Buck! It’s When Harry Met Sally.” Bucky chuckles at your excitement. Steve has his book of things to catch up with in the 21st century, and Bucky has you. 

“We’ll see, doll. You haven’t let me down yet.” In all honesty, Bucky was thoroughly enjoying the movie, Harry wasn’t the type of guy Bucky thought girls would go for, but most of his enjoyment came from how happy the movie seemed to be making you.

A few times you would catch Bucky staring at you instead of the movie; each time you would look back up at him he would pretend that he was immersed in the movie the whole time and you would nudge his side. It just made him so happy to see how much you were enjoying the movie, going so far as to mouth the lines alone with the actors.

“Yes it is! You are a human affront to all women, and I am a woman.” 

“Hey, I don’t feel great about this, but I don’t hear anyone complaining.”

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky is having the time of his life watching you act out the conversations, his heart never feeling so full in all his life. He truly doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, after all the horrible things he’s done in his life, he gets blessed with the most wonderful and understanding woman to call his.

His doll, his girl, who hasn’t even pressured him into anything. He felt bad at first, when he told you that he wanted to take things slow, thinking that you wouldn’t want to have a boyfriend who had no experience in the sexual realm. Of course, he’s kissed women, having his fair share of dames back in the 40’s, but he was a gentleman. He would take them out dancing, maybe make out in his car a little bit, but he never went farther than that. 

Now, after waking up after 80 some years, the last thing on his mind was having sex. That was until he met you, the minx who has awoken something inside of him, but he’s never acted on any of these feelings, too scared that he would disappoint you.

Ashamed that he was still a virgin, Bucky always stopped you before anything would get too heated, and you respected that. It didn’t make Bucky feel any better when he had to go to the ‘bathroom’ after a make-out session, but you never teased him about it, the both of you pretending that he really did need to go to the bathroom.

What the fuck?! Bucky’s attention is back on the movie when Sally has an ‘orgasm’ in the restaurant. Next to him, you’re giggling while watching her fake an orgasm, but Bucky, he’s not laughing. 

Bucky’s never seen a woman have an orgasm. Back in his day, the most accessible type of porn were dirty magazines that he used to hide under his bed so his ma wouldn’t find them. He tried to watch modern day porn after his not so mini sexual re-awakening, but after seeing some of the video titles, decided that porn was a no go for him, so this was sending all of the blood in his head straight to his dick. If it was over dramatized, he couldn’t tell, but his cock didn’t care. 

He felt it twitching in his sweats and he tried to subtly shift so you wouldn’t be able to see the bulge under the covers. Closing his eyes, Bucky tried to will his erection away; however, the scene seemed to never end and his cock got even harder at the thought of what you would look like when you came, how you would moan his name, how you would feel around him. 

He bets that you would look fucking spectacular spread out on this very bed with his cock burried deep inside of you. How your pussy would look swallowing him as he–

“Bucky, are you okay? You’re moving around a lot.” Shit! Bucky knows that he’s been caught. There is nothing he can do to hide the tent in his sweatpants; he curses himself for even wearing pants with so much give to them. 

“Uh…yeah, I’m good. My back’s a little stiff from the bed is all.” With how red his face and chest are, it’s a surprise that there is enough blood going to his dick to have it be as hard as it is.

“Your back? Are you sure? Cause I think I see the problem.” Double Shit!

“Doll, I’m sorry. It’s just that…” Your giggle cuts him off.

“Bucky, it’s okay. If you want I can give you a minute to sort,” you glance at his crotch, making it twitch in need, “that out.”

Bucky wishes that the bed could swallow him up whole so he wouldn’t have to deal with this. He’s a grown man for God’s sake and he’s popping wood at the first sign of something sexual!

“Or…” You drag on, “I could help you with that.” Bucky gulps, finding his throat to be drier than a desert.

“Doll, y-you don’t have to.” There’s a spark in your eye that you only have when you’re up to no good, like when you set Steve and Sharron up on a blind date after being sick of the pining between the two of them.

“But I want to, Bucky. Only if you’re okay with it.” His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest, but he is so hard, and he trusts you with his body and soul.You know that he’s never done anything; you would be the last person on the planet to make fun of him. 

“O-okay. What do you want me to do, doll?” You close the laptop, effectively ending the movie; Bucky couldn’t give less of a shit what happens to Harry or Sally right now, not when you’re looking at him like he is a full course meal and you're starving.

“Absolutely nothing. I want you to lay right there and let me make you feel good. Can you do that for me, hmm?” Pulling the covers back, you settle between his thick thighs, resting your head on one and looking up at him.

“I-I can do that. Yeah.” He shifts so that his back is against the headboard. Bucky isn’t used to just laying back while someone else does the work, has never been like that, but for you he would do just about anything if you asked.

Your hands go to the waistband of his sweats and boxers while you give small kisses to the outline of his cock through both layers. “Good boy,” you whisper on his cock, chuckling when it jerks under your mouth and he whines. Ooh, he’s a vocal one, you think as you look up at his flush face.

Bucky lifts his hips off the bed when you tug at his waistband, and his cock smacks against his clothed stomach, precum leaking onto his shirt. With his cock and balls on display, Bucky fights the urge to close his legs and cover himself up; no woman, or man, had ever seen him like this, but he wants this so bad. He trusts you; if he wants to stop, you’ll stop, but heaven forbid if you stop now.

He’s fucking big, too. You don’t know if you’re going to be able to fit his entire length in your mouth, but you’re sure as hell gonna try! Starting at his thighs, you give wet, open mouth kisses, leaving beautiful bruises on his skin. Whimpering, Bucky tries to get your mouth on his cock; all of your teasing is only making his balls fuller than he thought was possible and more precum ruin his shirt.

“Please, doll. Suck it.” His toned hips leave the bed in chase of your mouth. He can’t count how many times he’s fucked his fist thinking about how the tight heat of your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. Even now, with you kissing up and down his length, tracing his most prominent vein, it’s not enough.

“Shh, big boy, I’m getting there. You’re just so pretty I have to paint you.” His cock bounces from the force of its throbbing and another whine leaves his plump lips.

Eventually, you take pity on him and his begging, and you take the tip in your mouth and give it a harsh suck. “Oh Fuck! Do that again, doll!” He throws his head back, making contact with the headboard with a loud thunk. Hands flying to the sheets, and hips chasing your mouth, Bucky damn near chokes on his own spit.Christ, you’ve barely touched him and he’s about to burst.

Loving his reaction, you grab the base of him and spit on his tip, watching it roll down to where your hand rests, only to use your spit as lube to drag your hand up and down, feeling him pulse and throb in your hand. “Come on, doll. Please! I need more.” 

He was fisting the sheets, not wanting to force your head down, but wanting you to take him down your throat at the same time. Deciding not to torture him anymore, you licked your lips before taking as much length in you mouth as possible.

“GOD, FUCK!” His hips flew up to meet your mouth, making you gag. He was trying his hardest to stay in control and not force your pace, but fuck, he wasn’t expecting it to feel this good. You quickly found a steady pace, hollowing your cheeks and using your tongue to lap at his dick. Salavia coated his entire dick and was leaking down to his balls, making your movements that much easier.“What the fuck! Doll, that feels fucking incredible. More, please. Give me more! Shit! That feels so good!” Such a needy little thing.

There were still a few inches of his dick that you couldn’t fit in your mouth, so you used one hand to work the remaining length and the other hand to massage his balls. His cock was leaking precum and you could feel his heavy sack tense up in your hand; you knew he was about to cum, even before he did.

Bucky pulled you off his cock. “Doll! I’m gonna cum!” It took you a second to register why he pulled you off when he was about to cum, but you then realized, he didn’t think you wanted to swallow - How wrong he was.

“If you’re gonna cum, baby, I want you to cum in my mouth.” Not waiting for a response, you took his cock back into your mouth, taking him all the way to the base, letting him fuck your mouth with the little jerks of his hips. The sounds leaving his mouth were almost akin to sobs, making you clench your thighs together to quell the ache between your legs.

“Fuck, I’m cumming!”  His cum shot out in thick streams and you tried to swallow around his cock, but more and more cum would shoot out. You lapped up every single drop of his cum that you could, some of it dripping down to his balls. When his hips tried to jerk away, you pulled off his cock to lick his balls clean and tuck his softening cock back into his pants.

With a dopey look on his face, Bucky gave you the prettiest smile, having experienced the best orgasm of his overextended life. “I really liked the movie, doll.” He laughed after you giggled. After coming back down to reality, Bucky frowned, “doll, I wanna make you cum, too.”

“Oh, Buck, I didn’t do that because I wanted anything in return,” you repositioned yourself next to him in bed, ignoring the throbbing of your pussy, “I did it because I wanted to make you feel good.”

There’s still a pout on his lips, wanting you to feel good as well. “Another day, Bucky. I don’t want to overwhelm you with too much in one day, okay?” Eventually, he agrees, becoming compliant after getting his soul sucked out of his body.

“Next time, doll, you’re gonna teach me how to make you cum.” God, you love this man.

“Oh, I look forward to it.” This man is going to wreck you and you can’t wait.

[motherofpirates]

The jock punched him in the stomach, causing Eddie to want to curl into a ball to protect himself. The other two forced him to stay upright by holding Eddie’s shoulders against the wall as they cackled and brayed like hyenas. The apparent leader of the three bent down and grabbed a large piece of brick that had been dislodged as the Upside Down had tried to invade their dimension. He stood up and raised it in the air preparing to strike Eddie in the face. Eddie gulped, closing his eyes, as the other two men held him in place more firmly. He turned his face and waited for the brick to strike. “This is payback for Patrick and Chrissy.” The jock spat.

“Oi, dickheads! Back off or I’m gonna start swinging.” Steve’s voice rang clear and confident through the alleyway. A wave of relief so sharp that it caused a lump to appear in his throat and tears to prick his eyes coursed through Eddie’s body. What Eddie felt in that moment was hope. Hope personified as his best friend. The three young men turned but kept a grip on him.

Steve twirled his nail bat menacingly, all those years playing sport and little league baseball making it a natural extension of his hand. An expression so hardened and focused, that Eddie had never seen the likes on Steve’s pretty features before, not even in the Upside Down, imposed on his face. He felt fear for the jocks who were frozen in shock around him.

“You’re lying, Harrington, mind your business.” The nearest one said with confidence returning his attention to Eddie.

“Try me,” Steve closed the gap to the small gang of bullies quickly. He paused briefly, the two holding Eddie exchanged a look as Steve took a step closer and pulled his bat up like a batter taking aim. He suddenly swung it, expertly, so it purposely missed the nearest bully to him by a few centimetres. It whistled past the jocks ear causing him to drop the brick he was holding.

“Jesus H. Christ!” The young man in the letterman jacket took off for the exit of the alleyway.

“Last warning!” Steve whispered threateningly taking another step closer. “No one messes with my friends.” He began swing the bat again but with much more force behind it. The last two boys panicked and fled; they weren’t going to hang around to find out where Steve had planned to land that blow. They hightailed it into the night. Eddie could hear the tires of their car screech as they pulled off.

Eddie felt weak at the knees as the adrenalin rush began to wear off, he was shaky with shock. “Fuck, Steve, that was one of the most badass things I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, Eds.” Steve replied gently with a bashful smile as he propped the nail bat against the wall for safe keeping. “You think so?”

“I know so.” Eddie leant heavily against the wall.

“You, ok?”

“I’ve had worse beatings, and this is nowhere near as bad as being eaten alive, I can tell you.” He tried to laugh, his attempt at humour seemed to land flat at Steve’s feet.

Steve looked affectionately at Eddie as he closed the gap between them, lightly tilting Eddie’s chin up with his thumb. He tentatively kissed Eddie on the lips for the first time like he expected Eddie to push him away. Eddie’s whole-body tingled with warmth as joy and a relief so palpable rushed through him it brought tears of happiness to his eyes.

Eddie pulled Steve closer by the collar of his polo shirt to kiss the other man more fully, only to hiss in pain as his jaw protested from the injury it had very recently received.

----------------------------------------------

If you enjoyed this snippet please head on over to AO3 you can find the whole of this fic there under the title of I Want You to Want Me. Here's the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64633807/chapters/166024711

[heartsriki]

BERRY FIRST LOVE⌇딸기

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. sunghoon, jay, jake & sunoo | word count: 8.2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool to adulthood au!, childhood friends to lovers, time skip, small-town romance, drinking, misunderstandings, fluff, mild angst, slow burn (?), lots of bickering, ni-ki is pushy at some points, reader is evasive asf, passing out from alcohol, wrote this with blonde riki in mind, slice of life & a little kiss :).

synopsis — returning to your small hometown for the summer, you find yourself tangled in old memories, old friends, and the chaos of your first love. with familiar faces and unexpected moments, you’re forced to confront feelings you thought you left behind. as the days pass, you realize that some things—and some people—are harder to walk away from than you thought.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊Someone please compliment my title <3 also this took so long to write so if you love me reblog, ANYWAY ERMMM I KINDA COOKED IM NGL. I love this story so bad and I hope you guys like it too! As promised a fluffy jw fic is next bc if you all read my last fic.. WHEW IM SORRY. Anyways enjoy!

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the world in warm golds and soft pinks. The air smelled sweet—like earth and ripe strawberries, warmed by the afternoon heat. Your fingers were already stained red, a basket half-filled with berries swinging at your side as you wandered between the rows of green vines.

It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. Just you, the rustling leaves, and the occasional chirp of a bird overhead. But then—

Thud.

Something, or rather, someone, tumbled into the bushes just a few feet away, rustling through the leaves in a flurry of limbs and laughter. You blinked, stepping forward cautiously.

A boy, maybe your age, sat up, rubbing his knee where he had clearly tripped. His dark hair stuck up in messy tufts, and his cheeks were flushed—not from embarrassment, but from the sheer amusement of whatever had just happened. His eyes found yours, wide and bright.

“You saw that?” he grinned, brushing dirt off his shorts.

You nodded slowly. “You fell.”

“I dived,” he corrected, puffing his chest out. “I was trying to catch the biggest strawberry I’ve ever seen. It was this big—” He stretched his hands out dramatically before glancing down at the ground. “And now it’s… gone.”

You followed his gaze and spotted a squished red mess near his foot. You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t think you caught it.”

The boy laughed, a sound that was light and free, like the breeze that carried the scent of strawberries through the air. “Guess not. My name is Riki… Nishimura Riki,” he announced, as if to cover up his failed strawberry mission. “You?”

“Y/N,” you answered, still watching him warily.

Riki wiped his sticky hands on his shorts and grinned. “Cool, Y/N. Wanna race to see who can pick the most strawberries?”

You glanced down at your half-filled basket, then at Riki’s empty hands. You smirked. “I think I already won.”

Riki gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “No way! I was just getting started! Let’s go—starting now!”

And before you could protest, he was already darting down the row, reaching for the nearest strawberry with wild determination.

Laughing, you took off after him, the sun dipping lower as their laughter filled the strawberry field.

It was the start of something sweet.

From that day on, Riki was everywhere you were.

He lived a few blocks down, close enough that he’d show up on your front porch without warning, dragging you outside for another adventure. Summers were spent racing bikes down the quiet streets, climbing trees at the edge of town, and daring each other to jump into the cold lake even when your parents warned them not to.

The strawberry field became your place. Every summer, you guys would return to it, competing to see who could find the ripest berries, sneaking handfuls into your mouths until your fingers and lips were stained red. It didn’t matter how many times you won—Riki never stopped challenging you.

“One day, I’m gonna beat you,” he swore, lying back in the grass after another loss.

“Keep dreaming, Nishimura.” You grinned, tossing a berry at him.

By middle school, things started to shift in small, unspoken ways.

Riki grew taller—a lot taller. He was all long limbs and endless energy, forever restless, always moving. You, on the other hand, started noticing things you hadn’t before—like how his hair always stuck up in the mornings when he’d rush to meet you for the bus, or how his laugh had gotten deeper, even though it was still just as contagious.

But some things never changed.

“Hold still,” you scolded, balancing on the tips of your toes as you tried to fix his tie before your first school dance.

Riki groaned. “I don’t know why I have to wear this thing. It’s choking me.”

“Because your mom made you, and my mom made me help.” You finished knotting it properly, stepping back with a satisfied smirk. “There. Now you look slightly less like a mess.”

He huffed but grinned. “Still don’t see why you’re not my date.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Because that would be weird, dummy.”

And just like that, he was dragging you toward the gym, where the music was too loud, and neither of you really knew how to dance—but you both still had fun, laughing at your own awkwardness until the night was over.

As you both grew, Riki was one of the most well-known guys in town. He was the kind of person who could charm anyone—teachers, classmates, even the grumpy dude named Heeseung who ran the corner store. He was still the same Riki who tripped over his own feet and made ridiculous bets, but he was also different. More confident. More effortlessly cool.

The small town never changed. Not really. The roads got repaved, a few new families moved in, and the old diner got a fresh coat of paint, but the feeling stayed the same. Safe. Predictable.

But you?

You started changing little by little.

At first, it was subtle. The new people moving in brought different ideas, different ways of seeing the world. You overheard conversations at the diner about places far beyond your quiet town—cities with endless lights, beaches that stretched for miles, streets so busy you could disappear into the crowd.

And you got curious. Too curious.

You wanted to see more, do more, feel more.

One night, sprawled out on Riki’s bed, playing a game on your phone while he worked at his desk, the words left your mouth before you even realized you were thinking them.

“Do you ever think about getting out of here?”

Riki turned around, raising an eyebrow. “Where is this coming from?”

You blinked, pausing your game. Sitting up, you met his gaze. “I don’t know, don’t you feel stuck here? Like… there’s more for you than just this?”

Riki tilted his head, considering the question. Then, with a shrug, he turned back to his desk. “No, not really. I like it here.”

That was it. No hesitation. No second thoughts. Just a simple, final answer.

You nodded, flopping back down onto the bed. Maybe you were the weird one. Maybe wanting something more meant you didn’t appreciate what you already had.

After that, you pushed the thought down. You didn’t bring it up again.

Until high school.

By the time senior year rolled around, that buried thought had grown into something impossible to ignore.

You spent more time watching the people who had left—following old classmates’ social media accounts, seeing them post pictures from college dorms, busy city streets, concerts where the air felt electric even through a screen.

And then there was Riki.

Riki, who still loved this town, who had no plans of leaving. Riki, who fit here so well—who had the same easy friendships, the same carefree laughter, the same ability to make this place feel enough.

He hadn’t changed. But you had.

And that terrified you.

One evening, back in the strawberry field, you finally let the words slip again.

“Im leaving this town.”

Riki, lying back in the grass beside you, didn’t answer right away. He plucked a strawberry from the vine, rolling it between his fingers. “Where?”

“Anywhere,” you exhaled. “Everywhere. Just… somewhere new.”

This time, he didn’t push you to stay nor did he try to change your mind.

Instead, he looked at you for a long moment before popping the strawberry into his mouth. “Then go.”

Your stomach twisted. “Just like that?”

He looked at you, but there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite place. “Nothings keeping you here, Right?”

You wanted to believe it was that simple. That you could leave. But leaving means leaving him. After all this time you ignored one thing. How much Riki meant to you.

Deep down, you knew there was a deeper meaning to that.

The seasons were shifting and senior year was coming to an end.

After that conversation in the strawberry field, Riki became distant. Not completely gone, but different. The easy conversations, the playful teasing—it all started to fade. He still talked to you, but not like before. You figured he just needed time to process the idea of you leaving.

Maybe a lot of time.

One afternoon, as you walked through the school hallway, you found yourself scanning the crowd for him. He hadn’t been around much lately, and for some reason, the growing absence made your chest feel tight. It was stupid. He was just a friend, wasn’t he?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a light tap on your shoulder.

Turning around, you were met with a girl you barely knew, smiling shyly.

“Hey… weird question but are you and Riki dating by chance?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What? No. Why?”

The girl tilted her head. “That’s weird. I heard from Jake that he was planning to ask you out.”

Your breath caught. What?

She must’ve seen the confusion written all over your face because she gave a small nod, lips parting in realization. “He’s liked you for the longest time. Didn’t you know?”

You stared at her, mind suddenly blank.

Riki… liked you?

That didn’t make sense. Did it?

But then—flashes of memories. The clumsy little boy with messy brown hair in the strawberry field. The way he always found a reason to be around you, the way your heart sometimes skipped when he got too close, when he said something unexpectedly soft.

The feeling you could never quite name before.

You liked him.

The realization hit you all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. Without another word, you turned and ran.

You had to find him. You had to know if it was true. Because if it was—if it was, then maybe… maybe this town wouldn’t feel so suffocating after all. Maybe you wouldn’t have to leave.

Your feet carried you through the halls, past blurred faces and voices that didn’t matter. When you rounded a corner, your heart leapt at the sight of Riki’s classroom door, slightly open.

You slowed down, lifting a hand to knock—

Then you heard a voice.

“…Is Y/N really leaving?”

It was Sunghoon, a mutual friend speaking, his voice quieter than usual. He sat across from Riki, who was at his desk, staring blankly out the window.

“Yeah.” Riki’s voice was flat.

Sunghoon let out a breath. “And? How do you feel about it?”

You held your breath, pulse hammering in your ears. This was it. This was what you had been wondering ever since that day in the field. Ever since he started acting different.

Riki opened his mouth, hesitated—then turned back toward the window.

“…I couldn’t care less.”

The world stopped.

Your fingers curled against the doorframe, your chest tightening so painfully you thought it might break.

He couldn’t care less.

Not wanting to hear another word, you turned and ran.

This time, you didn’t stop till you got back home and hid in your room.

That night, you made your final decision.

You took the college offer abroad. You packed your bags.

And you left.

No graduation, no goodbyes.

Not even to Riki.

Because now, it was clear—there was nothing left for you in this town.

And you weren’t coming back.

4 YEARS LATER…

Here you were, walking down the crowded streets of the city you had called home for the past four years. Life had been moving fast—college, late-night study sessions, endless opportunities. And now, after graduating at the top of your class, you were finally taking a well-earned break before diving into the work scene.

The hum of city life buzzed around you—cars honking, people chattering, the scent of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air. Everything felt familiar, routine. Until your phone suddenly vibrated in your bag.

Glancing down, you saw the caller ID flash on the screen. Sunghoon.

You sighed, already knowing this wasn’t just a casual call.

Besides Riki, Sunghoon had been one of your closest friends growing up. And when you left town without a word to the one person who mattered most, Sunghoon refused to let you disappear completely. He had spent years forcing you to stay in touch—going as far as making new email accounts every time you ignored him until you finally gave in.

Bringing the phone to your ear, you greeted him with a tired, “What is it now, Hoon?”

A dramatic whine came from the other end. “Why do you always say it like that? Can’t I just call my really good friend to check in?”

You hummed, unconvinced, waiting for him to get to the point.

“You just graduated, right?” He continued, his tone more casual now. “Come on, take a break from the city and come see all of us. You can visit your family too.”

Your stomach twisted. “I don’t know, Hoon… There’s no real reason for me to—”

“The strawberry festival is coming up,” he interrupted. “You know it only happens every ten years. Didn’t you promise me we’d go when it came back?”

You froze.

The strawberry festival.

You had completely forgotten about it. It was the one time your sleepy little hometown actually came to life. A massive carnival, packed with rides, music, food stalls—and, of course, strawberries everywhere. It was a rare event, held only once every decade, and back then, you and your friends had promised that no matter where life took you, you’d all come back for it.

Had it really been ten years already?

You let out an awkward laugh. “Damn… I forgot all about that. It’s really been that long?”

Sunghoon chuckled. “Yeah. So? Think about it. A break from the city, some fresh air, maybe a little nostalgia… You know you want to.”

You swallowed hard.

A break from the city. A trip home.

Before you could say anything else, Sunghoon spoke again. “Just think about it, okay?” And with that, he hung up, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You exhaled, slipping your phone back into your bag.

You should say no. You should keep moving forward, keep your past where it belonged.

You stood there, phone still in your hand, Sunghoon’s words replaying in your head.

The strawberry festival.

When did time pass so quickly?

You exhaled, tilting your head up toward the city skyline. It had been so long since you left that tiny town behind. Since you left him behind.

Your life here was everything you had dreamed of—endless possibilities, a fast-paced world that never stopped moving. You had finally become someone outside of that small town.

So why did your heart ache at the thought of going back?

Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe… it was the one thing you never had the courage to face.

Riki.

Shaking your head, you continued walking. It was just a trip. Just a festival. A quick visit, and then you’d be gone again.

Just like last time.

The bus rumbled beneath you as you watched the scenery shift from towering skyscrapers to endless stretches of green. The city had faded miles ago, replaced by winding roads and wide, open fields. Everything looked just as you remembered—maybe a little smaller—but familiar all the same.

You had never set foot in this town since the day you left. Now, as the bus pulled into the tiny station near Main Street, a wave of nostalgia crashed over you.

A lot had really changed. The same diner still stood at the corner but now there were multiple. The old bookstore still had its hand-painted sign, but now it was the center of a plaza. A few new shops had popped up, but for the most part, the town was frozen in time—stuck in the same rhythm it had been in since you were a kid.

You stepped off the bus, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over everything, making the town look almost painting, like something out of an old memory.

Taking a deep breath, you started toward home.

Your parents had been thrilled when you told them you were coming back, immediately insisting on picking you up from the station. You had refused, not quite ready for the flood of questions you knew would come the second you got into the car. You needed time—to process, to breathe, to prepare yourself for what this trip might bring.

Walking through your old neighborhood, everything felt both foreign and familiar. The cracked sidewalk where you once tripped and scraped your knee. The oak tree near the park where you and your friends used to sit for hours. The houses all looked the same, yet somehow smaller, less grand than they had seemed when you were young.

And then, finally—home.

The house was exactly how you left it. The white shutters, the wraparound porch, the wind chimes still hanging near the front door. Your mom must have heard your footsteps because, before you could even knock, the door swung open.

“There you are!” she gasped, immediately pulling you into a tight hug. “Look at you! You look so grown up—well, of course you do, it’s been years—but still! You’re home.”

You laughed softly, hugging her back. “Yeah, I’m home.”

Your dad appeared behind her, smiling warmly. “Took you long enough.”

You spent the next hour catching up, answering the usual questions about school, work, and city life while your mom fussed over you like you’d been gone for decades. It was comforting, but as the sun began to set, you felt it—the weight of the town settling on you, the memories pressing in from all sides.

And with that weight came the one question you had been dreading.

Had he changed?

Did Riki still live here?

Would you run into him?

You weren’t sure if you were ready to find out. But something told you that in a town this small, it was only a matter of time.

And it was.

The first night back home, you couldn’t sleep.

Your mind raced with thoughts of everything this town had been and everything it could be. Memories clashed with possibilities, nostalgia with uncertainty. No matter how much you tossed and turned, the restless energy wouldn’t fade.

You needed air.

With a sigh, you threw off the blankets, slipped into a jacket, and grabbed your shoes. The house was eerily silent as you stepped outside, the night air crisp against your skin. You winced at the sudden chill but ignored it, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you let your feet carry you aimlessly down the quiet streets.

The last time you were here, you’d sworn never to return. The heartbreak had been unbearable, a wound so deep you thought distance would heal it. But here you were.

Lost in your thoughts, you almost didn’t notice where you’d wandered—until you did.

Your breath caught in your throat.

The strawberry field.

The place where it all began. The place where summers used to stretch endlessly under the golden sun, where laughter filled the air, where small hands plucked berries until fingertips were stained red.

It didn’t change. The neatly organized rows were still the same, the vivid wooden fence now more sturdy than before. It brought you comfort.

A bitter smile tugged at your lips. How strange it was to return to something you thought you would never see again. You shook your head, forcing the emotions down. You had a reason for being back, and nostalgia wasn’t going to change anything.

Sunghoon. You should probably let him know you made it home safely.

Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts and tapped his name. Bringing the phone to your ear, you waited for the dial tone to ring.

Then—

Rustle.

You froze.

The sound came from somewhere behind you, a sound you remembered hearing many times just beyond the tall grass at the edge of the field. Your grip on your phone tightened as you turned slowly, heart pounding.

And then, you saw him.

A tall figure stood a few feet away, half-hidden by the shadows of the night. The dim glow of a distant streetlight cast a soft halo around him, highlighting sharp features, broad shoulders, and a hoodie tied around his waist. His posture was tense—mirroring yours.

Your breath hitched as your eyes trailed upward.

No.

It couldn’t be.

But then, your gaze landed on a tiny, unmistakable detail.

The mole on his chin.

Your stomach dropped.

Riki.

He was blonde now. Taller—so much taller. He had grown into someone almost unrecognizable, yet there was no denying it. It was him.

And he was staring at you just as intently.

Seconds stretched into eternity as you both stood frozen in place, caught between the past and present. You could see it in his eyes—he recognized you immediately. Even after all these years.

Then, he broke the silence.

“Y/N…?”

Your heart clenched.

Your vision blurred.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate.

You turned on your heel and ran.

When you got home you were breathless, without a thought you curled up in your bed and rocked yourself to sleep wanting to forget about who you saw all together.

But it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Y/N…? Y/N, wake up.”

A voice cut through the haze of sleep, pulling you from your dreams. You stirred, shifting slightly, only to feel warm breath against your face.

Your eyes fluttered open—only to be met with another face inches from yours.

You screamed. On instinct, your fist shot out, connecting with their nose.

“Ow—what the hell?!” The intruder stumbled back, clutching his face in pain.

Heart racing, you scrambled upright, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Tall, smooth dark hair, ridiculously bushy eyebrows—wait.

“Sunghoon?!”

“Jesus, yes, Sunghoon! Who else would it be?!” he hissed, rubbing his nose.

Your gaze flickered to the open window. Your stomach dropped.

“How old are we, Hoon? Why are you still climbing through my window like we’re in some bad teen movie?”

Sunghoon winced, realizing his mistake. “Your mom said you weren’t talking to anyone.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “And a normal person would take that as a reason to NOT break into my room.”

He exhaled, letting silence fill the room before finally speaking.

“What’s wrong?”

Your brow furrowed. “How did you even know I was here?”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “Why do you think?”

You swallowed, understanding his unspoken words. Of course.

Sunghoon inched closer, studying your face. “Seriously, Y/N. What happened? You and Riki used to be inseparable.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of his name. You looked away, jaw tightening. “Don’t tell me you seriously don’t know? I saw you two—I heard him when he—”

The words lodged in your throat. You stood up abruptly, fists clenched at your sides.

Sunghoon stood with you. “When he what?”

Silence.

You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t repeat the words that shattered everything four years ago.

Sunghoon, watching your expression, racked his brain for memories—trying to pinpoint where things had gone wrong. And then…

Oh.

It hit him.

Four Years Ago

Sunghoon sat across from Riki, watching him with concern. His best friend sat slumped over the table, face buried in his arms.

”…Is Y/N really leaving?” Sunghoon finally asked.

“Yeah.” Riki’s voice was flat, distant. His gaze was fixed out the window.

Sunghoon exhaled, nodding in understanding. “And? How do you feel about it?”

Riki hesitated. His mouth opened, like he wanted to say something—something real—but then, he turned back toward the window.

”…I couldn’t care less.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows shot up. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you don’t care. You’ve liked her since middle school, haven’t you?”

That got Riki’s attention. He finally turned his head, locking eyes with Sunghoon.

Sunghoon froze.

Riki’s eyes were filled with unshed tears that were threatening to fall.

Without another word, Sunghoon reached out, giving Riki a firm pat on the back before standing. As he walked away, he heard it—silent, shaky sobs.

Sunghoon blinked, snapping back to the present. You were still staring at him, hurt and confusion in your glare.

He exhaled. “Y/N… I think you misunderstood something.”

Your expression darkened. “What is there to misunderstand?”

Oh, there was a lot. Sunghoon pieced it together now—how one sentence, one moment, had ruined everything.

He grinned suddenly, backing toward the door. “Yeah, you two definitely need to talk.”

You scowled. “What—?”

“Everyone’s meeting up to shop for the festival tomorrow. Get dressed and be out in twenty.”

“No way.”

Sunghoon smirked. “You don’t have a choice.”

And with that, he slipped out, shutting the door behind him.

You groaned, throwing yourself back onto your bed before reluctantly sitting up. With a sigh, you dragged yourself toward your wardrobe.

The town festival was tomorrow, and somehow, you had been roped into shopping for decorations and outfits with everyone. Against your will.

Sunghoon had given you exactly twenty minutes to get ready, and true to his word, he was banging on your door the moment time was up.

Now, here you were, standing in the middle of a busy shopping district, regretting every life choice that had led you to this moment.

It wasn’t all bad, though. You and Sunghoon had met up with Jay, Jake, and Sunoo—old friends, familiar faces. It felt just like the old days.

“Try not to look like you want to die, Y/N,” Jay teased, nudging you with his elbow. “It’s not a good look.”

“Oh, my bad.” You deadpanned. “I’ll smile harder just for you.”

Sunoo looped his arm through yours, grinning. “Come on, it won’t be that bad! We just need to grab some lights, banners, and—”

The conversation fell silent when approaching footsteps caught everyone’s attention. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was—Sunghoon must have told the others about You and Riki.

His blonde hair caught the sunlight, seriously since when did he decide to go blonde? His ear piercings glinting with every step. His usual confident smirk was firmly in place as he greeted everyone else—until his gaze landed on you. The moment it did, his expression shifted, and instead of a greeting, he simply looked away.

You scoffed. What the hell? He was ignoring you? But you were stubborn. If he wasn’t going to say anything, neither were you.

Fine. Two could play that game.

Shopping took forever. Between Jake trying on every jacket he saw, Sunoo debating color schemes, and Sunghoon practically dragging Jay away from every fashion store, you were exhausted by the time evening rolled around.

Naturally, the group decided to end the day at a bar.

The dimly lit space was buzzing with energy, music pulsing through the speakers. Drinks were ordered, laughter flowed easily, and—shockingly—you and Riki had managed to stay out of each other’s way. For now.

Sometimes you would catch his gaze on you before he quickly looked away. It confused you, didn’t he choose to keep it distant?

Jake slid a drink your way, grinning. “Come on, Y/N. Don’t tell me you’re gonna be lame tonight.”

You raised a brow. “I don’t need alcohol to have fun, Jake.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off. “But it helps.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or maybe you just didn’t feel like arguing, but you downed the drink without another word.

Then another.

And another.

It wasn’t until your head started feeling a little too light, and your laughter came a little too easy, that you realized you might have overdone it.

“You’re drunk,” Riki muttered beside you, eyeing you critically.

You blinked up at him, pointing a finger at his chest. “Nooo, you’re drunk.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Okay, goody-two shoes.” You giggled, wobbling slightly in your seat.

Riki sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Alright, let’s go.”

“What?”

“You’re done for the night. I’m taking you home.”

You pouted but couldn’t resist when he stood, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the exit. The others barely acknowledged your departure, too caught up in their own conversations.

By the time you reached your place, the effects of the alcohol had fully settled in. Your limbs felt heavy, your thoughts hazy. Riki helped you to your room, muttering about how you were such a hassle.

“You’re so annoying,” he grumbled, laying you down on your bed.

You hummed, blinking up at him. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re drunk.”

There was a pause.

Then, in a small, quiet voice, you whispered, “What happened to us Riki.”

Riki froze. “…What?”

You turned your head, staring at the ceiling. “A long time ago. I heard you.”

Silence.

“I heard you say you didn’t care I was leaving, Did I really mean so little to you?”

Riki looked at you silently listening to every word you said. Is that why you left without a word?

“Y/N…“

Your eyes fluttered shut, sleep pulling at you, but before you completely drifted off, you swore you felt his fingers brush lightly against yours.

And then, everything faded to black.

The town was alive with color.

Red and white banners swayed in the breeze, the scent of fresh strawberries and warm pastries filling the air. Stalls lined the streets, selling everything from homemade jams to strawberry-shaped trinkets. Children ran past with sticky fingers, laughing as they chased one another through the crowd. The festival was exactly as you remembered it—sweet, lively, and nostalgic.

And yet, something felt off.

Maybe it was the fact that you could still feel the ghost of Riki’s touch from the night before. Or maybe it was the words you had let slip in your drunken haze.

“A long time ago. I heard you.”

You hadn’t meant to say it. You weren’t even sure he had understood what you were talking about. But now, as you stood among the festival-goers, you couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to be difficult.

That feeling only intensified when you spotted Riki in the crowd while trying to find everyone else.

He wasn’t with the others. He wasn’t with anyone. He was standing near the game stalls, scanning the festival like he was looking for something—someone.

Then, his eyes found yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you continued in its usual festival chaos, but all you could focus on was him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—something determined.

Then, without a word, he started walking toward you.

You panicked.

Spinning on your heel, you darted into the crowd, weaving between people and past booths in a desperate attempt to avoid whatever conversation was coming. It was childish, sure, but you weren’t ready to face him. Not after last night.

You searched through the crowd, scanning the festival until your eyes landed on Sunghoon and the others standing in line for the go-karts. Without hesitation, you hurried over to them, eager for an escape from Riki and whatever awkward tension had settled between you since the bar incident.

Just as you reached the group, you heard footsteps behind you. A familiar presence. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Riki—his energy was unmistakable.

You ignored him.

Riki, however, wasn’t having it. He caught up effortlessly, standing close enough that you could feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.

“We need to talk,” he muttered under his breath.

You refused to acknowledge him.

The group, oblivious to the silent war happening beside them, continued chatting and joking around as you all waited for your turn. The line moved slowly, giving you plenty of time to bicker over who would win.

“I know I’m going to crush you all,” Jay bragged.

“You’re so delusional,” Sunghoon shot back. “You drive like a maniac.”

“That’s a crazy thing to say.”

“But am I wrong?”

You were entertained by the bickering until you were paired up with Jake on a two seater.

“Just so you know, I’m only targeting Jay,” Jake declared, cracking his knuckles. He turned to you with a playful grin. “Buckle up well, ‘cause we’re going straight after him.”

You laughed, following his order as you clicked your seatbelt into place. “Got it, captain.”

What you didn’t see, however, was Riki’s sharp glare fixed on the two of you. His jaw clenched as he watched the way you leaned into Jake’s side, completely ignoring him.

Riki scoffed, crossing his arms. “So she avoids me but giggles with Jake? Alright then.”

The game was on.

As soon as the music started, signaling the beginning of the race, everyone slammed on the gas.

Chaos erupted on the track.

Jake wasted no time, immediately veering toward Jay’s kart and ramming into him as promised.

“JAKE, YOU ASSHOLE!” Jay shouted as his kart spun slightly off course.

You burst into laughter—only for it to be cut short when your own kart jolted forward from a hard hit from behind.

“What the—” You twisted in your seat, and your breath hitched when you saw Riki behind the wheel of his own kart, glaring directly at you with a smirk.

Jake, unaware of the growing tension, was too focused on getting back at Sunoo, who had swerved past him effortlessly. “Hold on, Y/N, I’m gonna—”

BAM.

Another hit.

Again, it was Riki.

This time, he cut in front of you and Jake, blocking your path.

“Dude, what’s your problem?!” Jake shouted, trying to steer around him.

Riki only tilted his head, feigning innocence. “I don’t know. What’s your problem?!”

You furrowed your brows, confused by his behavior. His tone was sharp, but there was something else beneath it—something closer to frustration.

Not wanting to deal with whatever childish thing he was trying to pull, you gripped the steering wheel and swerved aggressively to break free from Riki’s blockade. Jake whooped as you sped off, but the feeling of Riki’s gaze lingering on you made you tense.

He wasn’t letting this go.

The race ended with Jay dramatically throwing his hands up, blaming everyone but himself for his loss. As the go-karts slowed to a stop, you unbuckled and climbed out, but your mind wasn’t on the game anymore.

Riki had been targeting you the entire time.

And you needed to know why.

You scanned the area, quickly spotting him a few feet away near his kart. Without thinking, you stormed over, your determination outweighing the hesitation you’d felt all day.

Riki, who had been watching you approach, felt a fleeting moment of satisfaction—until he saw the glare on your face. His stomach dropped.

Uh oh.

“What the hell was that, Riki?” you demanded, crossing your arms.

He smirked, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

He leaned against his kart, playing it cool. “I was just playing the game.”

“Really? Because it felt like you were playing with me.”

Riki tilted his head, his amusement faltering. “Maybe because you keep playing with me.”

You blinked, thrown off. “What are you talking about?”

His expression darkened slightly, and for the first time, there was no teasing in his voice. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, Y/N. Pretending I don’t exist, laughing with Jake like nothing happened. What, I don’t even get a chance to talk to you?”

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t expected him to be this blunt.

You swallowed hard. “So your solution was to ram into me with a go-kart?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to acknowledge me,” he shot back.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re so childish.”

“And you’re so stubborn.”

You had nothing to say to that. Because, well… he wasn’t wrong.

A silence stretched between you, the tension thick, unspoken words hanging between glares and quickened heartbeats.

Then, finally, you exhaled, rolling your eyes as you turned to walk away. “I don’t have time for this, Riki.”

Riki watched you go, an unfamiliar feeling twisting in his chest. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t frustration. It was something more vulnerable, something closer to disappointment.

A pat on his back snapped him out of his daze.

He turned to see Sunghoon standing beside him, arms crossed.

Sunghoon sighed, shaking his head with a knowing smirk. “Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it.”

Riki groaned, running a hand through his hair. Yeah. He already knew that.

But he wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

After the go-karts, you needed space.

The festival had plenty of distractions, and you were determined to find one that didn’t involve Riki glaring at you like you personally ruined his life. So, while the others wandered toward the dunk tank, you made a detour to a small strawberry stand, hoping the sweet treats would help clear your mind.

The old woman behind the counter greeted you warmly. “Looking for something special, dear?”

You glanced over the options—strawberry parfaits, chocolate-dipped strawberries, even little jars of homemade strawberry jam.

Before you could decide, someone else stepped beside you.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Riki.

You stiffened as he casually leaned against the wooden stand, way too close for someone you were actively trying to avoid.

“What are you getting?” he asked, voice light but unreadable.

You ignored him. Again.

He sighed dramatically. “Oh, so we’re still doing this? Cool, cool. Just checking.”

The old woman glanced between the two of you, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Couple’s fight?”

Your entire body tensed. “We’re not a couple.”

Riki, annoyingly enough, just smirked. “Yeah. She’s just mad at me for existing.”

You finally turned to glare at him. “That’s not—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “You know what? I’m not doing this right now.”

“Right now?” he echoed, tilting his head. “So there will be a time?”

You clenched your jaw, turning back to the stand. “I’ll take a chocolate-dipped strawberry,” you told the woman, ignoring Riki completely.

“Make it two,” Riki added immediately, pulling out his wallet before you could even react.

You shot him a glare. “I can pay for my own.”

“I know,” he said, handing over the money anyway. “But you won’t. Because I already did.”

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. You wanted to fight him on this. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face and tell him to back off.

But at the same time…

You could feel the weight of his gaze, the way his fingers subtly brushed yours when he handed you the strawberry. His expression wasn’t just playful—it was calculated, like he was testing you, waiting for you to react.

And that was the problem.

Because every time he pushed you like this, every time he pulled you into his ridiculous little games, you did react. You always did.

And he knew it.

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel. “I’m going back to the others.”

As the festival continued, you did everything in your power to avoid Riki.

You stuck by Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake, and Jay laughing at their antics, pretending everything was normal. But no matter how hard you tried to shake it, you could feel his eyes on you. Watching. Waiting.

It was driving you insane.

So when Sunoo suggested the Ferris wheel, you jumped at the chance, thinking maybe—maybe—you could get some distance.

Big mistake.

Because, of course, when it came time to pair up, Sunoo and Jake shoved you directly into a Ferris wheel cart with Riki.

“Wait, hold on—” You tried to back out, but Sunoo, with his deceptively strong grip, pushed you forward.

“Have fun!” he chirped, slamming the door shut before you could escape.

The ride operator locked it in place. You were trapped.

With Riki.

The cart swayed slightly as it ascended, the town growing smaller beneath you. A cool breeze drifted through, but it did nothing to calm the heat rising in your chest.

You sat stiffly, arms crossed, refusing to acknowledge the boy beside you.

Riki, for once, was silent too.

The tension was thick—almost suffocating.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“You’re really that scared of talking to me?”

You scoffed, keeping your gaze on the view. “I’m not scared of anything.”

“Then look at me.”

You swallowed, gripping the edge of the seat. “Why should I?”

“Because,” he said, voice lower now. “I think you already know what I’m going to say.”

You clenched your jaw. “Riki—”

“I liked you.”

Your breath hitched.

“I still like you,” he admitted, his tone softer than you’d ever heard it. “And I don’t think I can keep pretending I don’t.”

You finally turned, your heart pounding. “Why are you saying this now?”

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Because you heard me back then. You heard me and you ran away without the full story. What I said at that time, That was just me being stupid.”

He paused regaining his thoughts before speaking again, “Of course I cared. Everyday since you told me you were leaving I thought about ways to get you to stay but you’re just so stubborn.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “So Sunghoon told you I was there, huh?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Am I stupid to think you felt the same way?”

You had nothing to say to that. Yet.

The cart swayed slightly as it reached the very top of the Ferris wheel. The festival lights below twinkled, casting a warm glow around you both.

Riki exhaled, voice almost hesitant now. “Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll drop it. I’ll leave you alone.”

You opened your mouth—but the words wouldn’t come out.

Because he wasn’t wrong.

And deep down, you knew it.

The festival was winding down, but the air was still buzzing with excitement. The last of the fireworks were being set up, their colorful bursts of light reflecting off the river nearby. Families and friends gathered near the open field, setting down blankets and sitting on benches to watch the grand finale.

You tried to focus on the people around you—on Sunghoon, who was finishing off his fourth funnel cake, on Sunoo, who was still determined to win a giant stuffed bear at the dart game. But no matter what, your attention kept drifting elsewhere.

To him.

Riki stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, staring off into the distance. The glow of the festival lanterns flickered against his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows.

You had spent the entire night avoiding him, but after everything that happened—after the Ferris wheel, after what he said—you knew you couldn’t keep running forever.

So, before you could talk yourself out of it, you took a deep breath and walked over.

“Riki.”

He turned, eyes widening slightly when he saw you. “You’re talking to me now?”

You ignored the teasing in his tone. “Can we walk?”

He blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Yeah.”

The two of you drifted toward the quieter part of the festival, where the sounds of laughter and music softened into a gentle hum. You walked in silence for a while, the only sound between you being the crunch of gravel underfoot.

Then, finally—

“You’re right, I did hear you,” you admitted, staring at the ground. “Back then. When you said you didn’t care if I left or not.”

Riki exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know.”

You frowned. “Did you say something after that?”

“I did but you didn’t stick around to hear it.” He glanced at you. “Sunghoon scolded me for lying.”

Your fingers curled into your sleeves. “What you said that day wasn’t the whole reason why I left.”

Riki stopped walking, turning fully toward you. “Then what was it?”

You hesitated, looking up at him. The glow of the fireworks reflected in his dark eyes, filling the space between you with something unspoken—something that had always been there, even if neither of you had wanted to face it.

“I was scared,” you finally admitted. “I was scared of losing you too but not only as a friend, I liked you as well.”

Riki studied you for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he let out a soft laugh—one that wasn’t mocking, but almost relieved.

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “Is there hope that you still like me?”

You opened your mouth to answer but…. You couldn’t.

A loud boom echoed across the sky as the first firework shot up, exploding into a burst of red and gold. The crowd in the distance cheered, the sound carrying through the night air.

Riki looked up, his expression thoughtful. “I liked you back then,” he murmured. “And I still like you, I meant it when I said it on the ferris wheel and I still mean it now.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Slowly, he turned back to you, his usual cocky grin replaced with something softer, something real.

“I don’t know where we go from here,” he admitted. “But I do know that I’m done pretending like I never loved you.”

You stared at him, the fireworks painting his face in shifting colors. And in that moment, with the warmth of the festival still lingering in the air, you realized something.

Maybe you were done pretending, too.

The festival was over.

The lights had dimmed, the stalls were packed away, and the echoes of laughter had long faded into the quiet hum of the small town. The air smelled of burnt sugar and fireworks, remnants of a night that felt like both an ending and a beginning.

And yet, here you were—standing in your childhood bedroom, staring at your suitcase.

Your flight was tomorrow morning.

You were supposed to leave.

That had always been the plan, hadn’t it?

You had spent so much time dreaming of something bigger, something beyond this town. You told yourself you needed to leave, that staying here would mean getting stuck in the past.

But then… he happened.

The memories of the past few days replayed in your head—the strawberry fields, the carnival, the fireworks, the way his voice softened when he admitted, “I still like you.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair before pulling out your phone. One unread message stared back at you.

Riki: Meet me at the strawberry field before you go. One last time.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. You could say no. You could leave things as they were, pack up, and walk away without looking back.

But deep down, you already knew the truth.

You weren’t leaving.

Not this time.

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the fields, the dew still fresh on the leaves. It was quiet here—peaceful in a way that made your heart ache.

And waiting for you, just like always, was Riki.

He turned at the sound of your footsteps, hands shoved into his pockets. “You actually came.”

You exhaled, crossing your arms. “Of course, I did.”

He tilted his head. “Did you decide?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let your gaze drift over the rows of strawberries, remembering how it all started—the first time you met as kids, the summers spent running through these fields, the memories built in a place that had somehow always brought you back to him.

Then, finally, you looked at him.

“I’m staying.”

Riki blinked. “Wait—”

“I don’t know for how long,” you admitted. “I don’t know what comes next. But I do know that leaving doesn’t feel right anymore. Not if you’re here.”

A slow smile spread across his lips. Not cocky, not teasing—just genuine.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

His smirk returned as he glanced down at the strawberry bushes beside you. “So… what now?”

You raised an eyebrow, then crouched down and plucked a ripe strawberry off the vine, twirling it between your fingers before tossing him a look.

“You still think you can pick more strawberries than me?”

Riki let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You cannot be serious right now.”

You only smirked. “Scared you’ll lose?”

His competitive streak kicked in immediately. “You wish.” He bent down, grabbing his own handful of strawberries before shooting you a challenging grin. “Alright, let’s do this.”

For the next few minutes, it was like nothing had changed. You were just two kids again, running through the fields, arguing over who could pick the most, sneaking strawberries when you thought the other wasn’t looking.

And then—

Riki suddenly reached out, grabbing your wrist mid-motion, stopping you in your tracks.

Your heart jumped. “What—”

“You’re really staying?” His voice was quieter now, serious.

You swallowed, your fingers still curled around a strawberry. “Yeah.”

A moment of silence.

Then—Riki took a step closer.

Closer.

Until he was right there in front of you, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, his eyes locked onto yours like he was searching for any hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

And maybe that was all the confirmation he needed, because the next thing you knew—

He kissed you.

Soft, tentative at first, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, your free hand reaching up to tangle in his hoodie as the warmth of his lips melted away any lingering doubts.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Riki’s lips curled into a smirk.

“So… does this mean I win?”

You scoffed, shoving a strawberry into his mouth before walking past him.

“Shut up and pick more strawberries, Nishimura.”

His laughter echoed through the field, and as you glanced back at him—his eyes shining, his smile wide—you realized something.

This was home.

And you weren’t going anywhere.

[wild-jackalope]

pairing :: Puppy!Megumi x Owner!reader

warning :: aged up Megumi, rut, dub con, lowkey non con, dry humping, hybrid a (tail and ears), finally letting my inner freak loose…

note :: all hail @sukunasuka who inspired this.

Puppy!Megumi who’s hardly needy for attention, he only lays on your lap once in a blue moon, and if you shift or twitch once he will get up and move to the next comfortable spot.

Puppy!Megumi who barks at the others (especially puppy!Yuji) when they try to jump or slobber over you. They’re just so needy, it’s honestly annoying.

Puppy!Megumi who knows when you leave the door open during bedtime that you’re silently inviting him to sleep with you. None of his brothers get to cuddle up on your bed and he loves to feel like your favourite.

Puppy!Megumi who might seem like the most relaxed one of the litter, but he can easily turn into a growling mut with pinned ears the moment you bring another person (God forbid a man) home.

Puppy!Megumi who is the most well behaved pup, being titled a ‘good boy’ more than all his brothers. He might try to seen aloof, but his tail wags tellingly every single time you utter the words.

NSFW

Puppy!Megumi who becomes so territorial during his heat. Barking and nipping at any of his brothers who try to come near you or enter your room.

Puppy!Megumi who just needs to smell you all the time, getting into your dirty clothes and chewing the fabrics stained with your smell.

Puppy!Megumi who paws at your bedroom door when you lock him out as punishment, occasionally barking or growling at the door keeping him away from you.

Puppy!Megumi who doesn’t know why his dick is so painfully hard, but knows he needs to be near you. But laying on your lap just isn’t enough, so he weighs you down with all of him.

Puppy!Megumi who realises that shoving his painful erection into your plush side feels soo good. But you keep trying to push him down, yelling ‘bad boy! Get down Megumi!’ He hates that.

Puppy!Megumi who just needs you to stay still while he fucks his frustration out on you. You’re his owner, after all, it’s your job to help him.

Puppy!Megumi who pins you down and latches his jaw around your neck whilst he humps you. Each time you move or struggle he bites harder and growls, low and in warning.

Puppy!Megumi whose ears prick up when he hears your little grunts and huffs, the noise makes him burn so much that he starts to fuck you faster and faster.

Puppy!Megumi who finally finds release after grinding into you for a few minutes. He wants to keep going, but his dick is just so sensitive.

Puppy!Megumi who, after he cums, licks up the teeth indents in your neck apologetically. He knows he won’t get to sleep in your bed for days after this.

Puppy!Megumi who has now turned into a problem pup, completely overbearing despite your obvious annoyance with him. He growls when the others even try to get close to you and won’t ever leave your lap. Hopefully things will ease up once his heat passes.

[finelinemia]

THE COLLEGE CAFETERIA

^Hii, this is my first Harry short story! I'm a bot creator, but I've decided to try something longer. I hope you like it. Don't be too mean to me, it's my first time🫡

SUMMARY: You're reading a book in the university cafeteria when a guy you've never seen on campus approaches you.

Word Count: 1.1k

[uni!harry]

"What is the book about?" The unfamiliar voice makes you look up from the pages to find yourself staring into green eyes, a half-smile, and a cap perched backward. You frown slightly and look around. The university cafeteria is still pretty empty. It was eight in the morning, and everyone was in their classes.

You look back into his green eyes and then check the cover of the book you were reading, as if you needed to remember its name, "It's about... nothing important, not historical, not... classic or idealistic..." Are you getting nervous? "It's a romance book," you finally say.

"Okay, but you didn't answer my question... what's it about?" He laughs a little, tilting his head, his gaze dropping to the cover of the book and then back to me.

I look around again. There's no one here except for the owner and us. I didn't even notice when he came in, and according to my calculations, he's in the same year as me, so he should be in class right now, and so should I, but that's not the case right now.

"It's about..." my gaze meets his again; he's genuinely interested in what I'm about to say. "A boy and a girl who hate each other but are physically attracted to each other and make an agreement to have sex without anyone knowing, with no strings attached and all that."

"Oh yeah, typical teenage stories that you girls read," he says, looking back at the book. "The author didn't put much effort into finding a title, did she? 'Twisted Hate,' I wonder what it's about."

I don't know if he was trying to be a jerk or if he really was. But I didn't like that air of grandeur at all. He had approached me just to mess with me? What a fucking moron.

"Never judge a book by its cover. It could be the next literary gem and you don't even know it," I say, turning my gaze back to the pages, not wanting to continue this conversation.

But he wants to keep talking.

"Let me guess... eventually feelings start to develop and they decide to be together, have kids, and blah blah blah, same plot for every book. It never fails," he says, smiling, knowing perfectly well he's getting on my nerves.

"I can't answer that because I'm still halfway through the book." I don't look up. "But what does it matter? Isn't that what we all want? A happy ending?"

"Don't look at me. I don't read books, but if I did, they wouldn't be romantic comedies, believe me." He leans against the wall next to the table where I'm sitting, and after a few seconds, he speaks again. "At least you're not one of those who reads comics."

I frown. "What's wrong with comics?"

"Oh, no bad reason, but to me they're not real books."

"Yeah, surely watching a soccer game is way more interesting than reading, right?" I turn my head to look at him; he has a smile on his face.

"So you know I play soccer," he says, tilting his head.

"I don't know, but I noticed you're wearing sweatpants and your soccer cleats are hanging out of your backpack. Plus, you're here during classes, which means either you're skipping school or you have team practice on Tuesdays at 8:30." For a moment, I think I might have come across as a stalker and that I might have scared him. But nothing like that, because he laughs and sits down in the chair next to me.

"Very observant for a girl who reads rom-coms. What's your excuse for skipping school? Because I'd notice if you were on my soccer team." he rests his arms on the table and his head in his hands, still staring at me.

"Let me tell you, it's none of your business." I look back at the book, but he takes it away from me, making me sigh. "You've set out to screw someone's life up today, and it's my turn?"

"Kinda." he closes the book in his hands and places it on the table. "I'm not going to snitch, you know? You can tell me. Or... you can tell me your name."

I let out a small laugh. Is he supposed to be hitting on me now? Why would he want to know my name? And why am I even thinking about telling him?

"It's not a total secret, either. I just... don't like the professor very much." I fiddle with my hands nervously, but he doesn't notice.

"Does that mean you're not going to tell me your name?" He raises his eyebrow slightly.

"I thought you wanted to know why I'm not going to class," I brought my gaze back to his.

"Not anymore, now I want to know your name." He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, too bad, that's not going to happen." I slide the book back toward me.

"So we have a girl here who likes to play hard to get." He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I like it."

"Of course..." I roll my eyes slightly. "Of course you're one of those. Now's the time I spread my legs for you?"

He smiles, "Most girls do, I don't see why you don't."

"I'm going to have to give you the bad news: you're not my type." I open my book again.

"Of course I'm not." He throws his head back, laughing. "What's your type? Can you answer that?"

"Not you." I smile sarcastically at him, making him laugh again.

"I can change that, give me time." He gets up from his chair in time for the cafe owner to call his name.

"Cappuccino for Harry," the woman says, placing the to-go coffee on the counter. He picks it up, takes a sip, and turns to look at me.

"Now you know my name, don't you think it's unfair that I don't know yours?" he asks, tilting his head.

"Bye, Harry. I'll look for you around the soccer field," I say, watching him head for the door.

"I hope so because you won't see me in the library." he says as he opens the door to the outside.

"Latte for [Y/N]." The cafe owner says and I inwardly curse myself for the timing.

He smiles and looks back, meeting my gaze. "[Y/N]... such a pretty name." I press my lips together to keep from smiling. "It was a pleasure meeting you, [Y/N]." He leaves, closing the door behind him, and I turn my head to the owner.

"You're welcome," she says, smiling.

part 2

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If you liked it, you can leave me a heart and repost it so it can reach more people. Thank you very much!🩷

[nelle-y]

A love story told through voicelines (Wriothesley ver.) II

C/W: wriothesley x gn!reader, sun x moon, protective!wrio, himbo/bimbo!reader, fluff, slow-burn, not proofread, Sigewinne :D

Note: sorry for the slow uploads, school’s keeping me busy TT

Part 1

—

(You) About returning

Well, well, well… look who’s back! Bet no one expected to have me again so soon. For four months, too! What can I say? The Fortress just has a certain charm. …Or maybe I just missed my inmates. Yeah. That’s it.

(Wriothesley) About your return

I should be annoyed. I should be questioning their life choices. I should be standing here, arms crossed, demanding to know why they thought this was a good idea.

But instead, all I can think is—

They came back.

(You) About settling in again

You’d think being thrown in jail twice would be a humbling experience, but honestly? It just feels like coming home at this point. I even got my old spot in the cafeteria back! …Wait, is that a good thing or a bad thing?

(Wriothesley) About you: Habits

They slip back into routine so easily, it’s like they never left. Same seat in the cafeteria, same ridiculous antics, same way they somehow manage to make everyone like them. …And the same way they always find a reason to be near me.

Not that I mind.

Hah— listen to me. I really have gone soft, huh?

(You) About Wriothesley II

He thinks I don’t know, but I can see how that tea boy squares up his posture when in Duke-mode. Always so serious, like he holds the whole Fortress on his shoulders. …I guess that’s pretty much the thing about being the Duke, huh? Still, I think the only time I’ve seen him relax was when I came back. Just for a second, though. “Welcome back, sunshine,” he said…

Hehe…

*clears throat* Wow, did it, uh— Did it get warmer in here all of the sudden? My face feels weird. Probably the cafeteria food. Must be that.

(Wriothesley) About you II

Since they came back, the whole Fortress just feels… right again. Fewer troublemakers, fewer slacking reports, even fewer check-ups from Sigewinne. I guess that’s just what happens when you have someone like them around—always lifting people up without even trying.

Funny… I never noticed how bright they were before. Even when they’re not around, it’s like their energy lingers. I could probably find my way back to them just by following that light.

*chuckles* Or I could just follow the crowd and catch them building another ketchup tower.

… I have a meeting in a few minutes. I should get going.

(You) About Wriothesley: First-name basis

Oh, pfft— I’ve got plenty of names for him! Wrio, Wriothesley, The Dukester, and my personal favorite: Tea boy! Oh, what does he call me? Usually by my first name… except for that one time he called me sunshine.

… Ahem— Why do I call him by his first name? I mean—why not? Whether you’re a Duke or just another inmate, you’re still human at the end of the day, right?

(Wriothesley) About you: First-name basis

I’ve spent years hearing nothing but “Your Grace,” “The Duke,” “Duke Wriothesley.” Formal, respectful—distant.

So when they called me “Wrio” the first time… I didn’t know how to respond.

It was casual. Natural. Like they didn’t see a title—they just saw me.

I think I’ve gotten used to it. Maybe even a little too used to it.

(You) About Wriothesley: Realizations

You ever look at someone and suddenly just get it? Like, oh—that’s why people are drawn to them. That’s why they feel safe. That’s why… you start looking for them in a room without realizing.

Yeah.

That happened to me today…

Anyway! I’m gonna go ask for an extra pillow and see if he still remembers last time.

(Wriothesley) About you: Realizations

It’s one thing to tolerate someone’s presence. It’s another to start looking for it. And lately, I… find myself noticing when they’re not around. When the cafeteria’s a little too quiet, when my tea doesn’t come with some teasing remark—when I don’t hear their voice at least once in the day.

…When did that start happening?

(You) About Wriothesley: Feeling “off”

Okay, weird question—can you, like, get Fortress sickness? You know, like seasickness, but for being in prison too long? Because ever since I got back, I’ve been feeling kinda… off. Like my heart does this weird thing when I run into Wrio— uh, His Grace. And sometimes I forget what I was saying when he looks at me too long. Oh, and the other day, I thought about him when I was eating and nearly choked. That’s not normal, right? I should probably ask Sigewinne about it…

(Wriothesley) About you: Feeling “off”

Chest pains, increase in body temperature, and dizziness.

But I only feel them around a certain someone.

Sigewinne would probably say it’s stress, or lack of sleep, or too much caffeine. Maybe she’d tell me to stop skipping meals—again. But I’ve trained through worse. Fought through worse. Been through worse.

This… is different.

It’s like my body knows they’re nearby before I do. Like the air shifts, or time slows for a second. Like I start expecting them in every hallway, every laugh echoing off the walls.

I used to think the Fortress felt heavy. Cold, even.

But now?

It’s warm.

I should consult Sigewinne later… just to make sure.

(Sigewinne) Character Story: New ailments..?

“You think you’re sick?” Sigewinne repeated, tilting her head. She’d already scanned their body when they came in, and there were no signs of any illness.

The patient across from her nodded, looking genuinely troubled. “Yeah, it’s weird. My heart keeps doing this thump-thump thing, but only sometimes. And I feel warm a lot, even when it’s cold. Oh, and I got super dizzy yesterday watching Wrio— I mean, someone spar. Like, my brain just—whoosh.” They made a vague hand gesture. “See? Something’s wrong with me.”

She ran another quick scan, just to humor them, then looked up and blinked. “Well, your body’s perfectly healthy!” Sigewinne said with a reassuring smile. “But sometimes, feelings can make our bodies do strange things. Did anything… emotional happen with that someone lately?”

Before they could answer, Wriothesley’s voice floated in the room as he stepped in, arms crossed but eyes curious. “Someone what?”

The patient stiffened, suddenly fascinated by the wall.

“They said they weren’t feeling well,” Sigewinne said innocently. “Feverish, heart racing, dizzy.”

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Wriothesley said, turning to them. “Did you eat something weird? You almost face-planted in the ring yesterday.”

“I was just tired!”

“You were staring at me for ten straight minutes.”

“Again—tired!”They were flushed now, avoiding eye contact.

Wriothesley’s tone stayed level, but there was something softer underneath. “If someone’s bothering you—”

“No one’s bothering me!”

Sigewinne watched them go back and forth, quietly taking notes. The way Wriothesley leaned in, just slightly. The way they kept stealing glances when he wasn’t looking. The shared energy—awkward, electric.

And suddenly, it clicked.

“Ohhh,” she said, eyes lighting up. “I get it now.”

They both stopped mid-argument (flirting?) to glance her way.

“Get what?” they asked, voices in sync—one wary, the other suspicious.

“Nothing, nothing!” she chirped, spinning once on her stool. Sigewinne twirled her pen, clearly writing nothing on her clipboard. “Well, no treatment necessary; your symptoms stem from emotional… distress, after all. You’re free to go.”

“Emotional distress?” His Grace repeated.

“Maybe try some self-reflection and, you know,” Sigewinne handed them a little slip of paper. “Come back in a few days. Lollipop?”

“Ooh, fun!” They thanked her after taking the piece of candy, then walked toward the exit.

The Duke said, almost muttering so only they could hear, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great! Got a lollipop out of it, didn’t I?”

“Very well,” Wriothesley chuckled as he stepped aside to let them pass, amusement dancing behind his eyes. “…Try not to trip over your own feet again.”

“I didn’t trip!” they snapped over their shoulder, voice cracking.

“Sure you didn’t, sunshine.” He smirked, watching as they sprung out the clinic in a flustered waltz.

Diagnosis: Helplessly smitten

(Wriothesley) Character story: Lovesick

Life in the Fortress of Meropide demands composure. A steady mind. A firm hand. For as long as Wriothesley has held the title of Duke, he’s lived by these principles—dispassionate, collected, and always one step ahead of disorder. It’s what the people need of him. What he expects of himself.

But lately, that composure has started to slip.

It started subtly—shared glances in the corridor, the way his shoulders eased without him noticing when they entered a room. The echo of laughter that lingered longer than it should have. He had brushed it off at first. A trick of the mind. A temporary disturbance. But when the rhythm of the Fortress began to change with their return—when even Sigewinne noted the shift—he could no longer deny it.

“You have a look,” she said to him. “Like someone trying very hard not to look worried.”

Of course he denied it. That was his way.

And yet, her words followed him like a shadow. Because she wasn’t wrong.

He had always prided himself on his composure. Yet now, it frayed in the quietest ways. Eyes drawn without permission. A smile that curled unbidden. An unfamiliar warmth that lingered after every interaction. It unsettled him—not because it was unwelcome, but because it was new.

Because it was them.

They disrupted his order. Not in loud, reckless ways—but in the way a candle disrupts the dark. Slowly. Quietly. Undeniably.

Sigewinne, ever perceptive, had called it what it was. Fear—not of danger, but of vulnerability. Of letting something in that couldn’t be filed, fixed, or ignored. He had faced countless threats in his life, but nothing had felt quite as disarming as their smile. As the quiet thought that maybe, for once, he didn’t have to be the fortress himself.

And in the stillness of that thought, he began to wonder: If this was love… then perhaps it wasn’t a weakness to be feared, but a truth to be embraced.

He wasn’t ready to say it aloud—not yet. But he no longer denied it, either.

And that, for Wriothesley, was a beginning.

(You) Character story: OH NO

There are moments in life that leave you shaken. War. Heartbreak. Cataclysmic world events. And then there are the truly terrifying things—like accidentally realizing you might be in love with the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide.

It hit them somewhere between grabbing a lollipop from Sigewinne and walking face-first into a wall on the way to their room.

Not metaphorically.

Literally.

BAM.

Forehead-to-steel. The wall won.

They blamed the Fortress air at first. Or maybe low blood sugar. Or the deeply suspicious cafeteria fish sticks.

But then Wriothesley’s voice echoed down the hall—calm, amused, annoyingly perfect—and suddenly their brain just went static.

“Oh no,” they whispered aloud.

A guard passing by gave them a confused glance.

They whispered it again, but more dramatically. “Oh no.”

Because here’s the thing: this wasn’t a crush. A crush is what someone gets on a cute person at the market who sells good tea. A crush is fleeting. Safe.

This was something else.

This was: “I nearly passed out watching him spar.”

This was: “I get dizzy when he smiles and also want to throw him into the ocean and then jump in after him.”

This was: dangerous.

They were not equipped for this kind of emotional responsibility.

They had no plan. No backup. No strategy.

Just… weird chest feelings and an extremely judgmental stuffed toy from the Commissary watching them spiral on their cot.

“Maybe I’m dying,” they whispered to the toy.

The toy, unfortunately, offered no medical opinion.

They tried to focus on other things after that. Work. Routine. Towering monuments made of cafeteria condiment packets. But everything—everything—led back to him.

Wriothesley asking if they were okay (oh no).

Wriothesley calling them sunshine (OH no).

Wriothesley’s sleeves rolled up just enough to see his forearms (OH NO).

They were doomed. Absolutely, irreversibly doomed.

(Sigewinne) About you and Wriothesley

I’ve read about this little thing called love in a novel Lady Furina sent me. And crazily enough, I think I might be seeing it happen right in front of me!

—

[lostpiewrites]

Blue Lock Boys as Dads 👨‍👦

Ft: Mikage Reo , Nagi Seishirou , Barou Shoei , Bachira Meguru , Chigiri Hyoma , Itoshi Rin.

a/n : at the last multi character headcanon fic for blue lock, i couldn't add some of these characters because it would be too long. So i wanted to write sth for them this time. also these are the ones that gives the dad vibes most to me so here we go. (art credits unknown)

Mikage Reo

I see him as a dad of two little girls. He loves them with his whole heart and is happy to be their dad.

MELTS if any of them shows him physical affection. He loves to squish their cheeks and never lets them off his arms when he is at home. Can even bite their cheeks when he feels like it because he gets massive cuteness agression sometimes.

Spoils them even more than you at some point. Gets any and everything they want for them. They liked a flower boquet ? He is buying the whole shop , with the title deed and all. Without questions. If you don't intervene when needed , your daughters will grow up to be spoiled nepo brats.

Supports anything they wanna try as a hobby. In his childhood , his parents didn't approve of his dreams about soccer and it was what drove him as a player in blue lock. He doesn't want them to experience the same thing. No matter what they want to do , he approves and helps them so they can pursue their dreams safely.

Is gentle with them no matter what. He can't get angry or put boundaries to them. So you need to help him at disciplining your children.

Nagi Seishirou

Is the spitting image of a lazy but cool dad. Sometimes it even makes you wonder how did he put in the effort to make those kids but anyways we don't think of that.

I see him as a dad of one single girl. Making the second child is too much of a hassle for him. Had the first one because you practically forced him with doe eyes and a few "pleasepleaseplease"s.

Deadass prayed to God for him to give him a girl child and not a boy one. Poor boy couldn't handle the energetic bundle of joy and he knew.

Is down bad for anything that your daughter wants to do. He participates everything she wants to do with him , even tho by laying down. He is a guest at your daughter's tea parties , a model when she is playing dress-up. Let's her paint his face or nails with make-up , knowing that you would help him get them out later.

Lays out on the floor or the couch , sits your daughter over his chest and listens her yapping the whole day.

When you need to put your daughter in sleep , he lays down beside her and puts one of his arms over her body , hugging her. Because of him being heavy and falling asleep way too quick , your daughter can't move at all and eventually is forced to sleep even tho she wants to continue playing.

Barou Shoei

I see him as a dad of two boys. Wants a girl too but it doesn't work that way unfortunately.

The most "traditional dad" dad ever. Has the authority of the house in his hands and your kids behave just because they are scared of his muscles and overall appearance (until they grow up)

Has extreme discipline and probably has a written daily schedule for each of your kids , hung over the fridge with a magnet.

But also does the house chores and is insanely good at them , so you can spend time with your kids as well. Have you seen this man in Isagi's team ? Washing and folding laundry like a pro mom. (You are lucky to have him as your husband i promise you that, best husband material out there , periodt)

Has a hygiene obsession. So your kids are most definitely showering after coming from the playground , brushing their teeth thrice a day without skipping , washing their hands before any and every meal. Also he helps you with their toilet training , teaching them every rule patiently so they don't end up as dirty stray brats. So in conclusion , your kids grow up to be personal hygiene experts with him around.

He is the dad that would fight against toxic masculinity. He is strong and built up like a Greek God but if he has a daughter and she wants him to , he is attending an opera recital as his daughter's ballet partner , with a pink tutu and all.

Bachira Meguru

I see him as a boy dad. Two , maybe even three. Mans has got the energy to handle them (and make them too)

The most adorable dad ever. Doesn't really know what to do so you have to explain everything in details to him but he tries his best i promise.

100% teaches and plays soccer with his sons. Takes them to amusement parks or normal playgrounds. Comes back with dirt all over their clothes and faces. And laughs sheepishly when you scold him. "But we were having funnn...😢"

He is the type of dad who takes your kids when they are having trouble sleeping and playfight with them until they are exhausted and fall asleep unintentionally. Then he cuddles up sleeping with them. I love him. 🥹

He is also the type of dad that would betray you playfully for the kids' entertainment. He is all like "you want another bag of potato chips ? fine but you won't tell momma about this okay? he will get angry and yell at us both but more at me."

Sits with them and plays the most ridicilous child games ever known to mankind without any single ounce of shame. He loves his kids and he shows it. Best dad award worthy...

Chigiri Hyoma

I see him as a suitable dad for both boys and girls. It doesn't matter for him. They are his kids and he loves them equally.

If he has a son , he playfully races him wherever. Going to get a taco bell ? Races him until the shop. The winner gets to buy an ice cream as an award. Never lets him win for dear God's sake. "If he is good enough for a reward , he can outrun me , duh 😒". Often tends to forget he is an athlete level trackstar.

If he has a girl , he would be an idolized teen girl dad. Would do skincare , haircare , nail arts with her. When she is just a baby , she would tie her hair in cute ponytails. And when she grows up , she would style her hair in the best ways.

He has a weak leg that he has to care of. So health check-ups are a must for him. Tags his kids along him and gets them one whenever he does too. Also knows which brand of collagen , vitamins etc are the best to use because he has to take extra pills to strengthen his cruciate ligaments.

Itoshi Rin

Definition of a doted girl dad. I accept no counter arguments on this one.

Never planned to have a kid tbh. (But couldn't help himself when you felt so good.) He knew he would need to spend time with them as their dad and it would be an obstacle on his career. But the moment nurses handed him his newborn baby , he cried out loud with happiness. For the first time ever.

His daughter would be sport smart like him. And he would support her with his life. He would be her personal coach ; with workout routine , diet and training. All of it.

Speaks English with her from the day one because babies learn languages way too easily compared to the teens/adults. So she would be bilingual from start. And when she grows up , she would worship her dad for that.

Never lets her off her arms. He is the type of dad that would cook with his kid attached to his hip , encouraging her to talk with occasional comments like "ikr ?" "yes baby you are the cutest" while she babbles in an adorable toddler language.

[sansaorgana]

— BEDROOM HYMNS

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Queen Alicent Hightower x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Your sister-in-law wishes for you to become one of her ladies-in-waiting but you become so much more. Things complicate when your husband comes to visit.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The title is from Florence + The Machine song. Alicent is a lesbian in this fic but she's also very conflicted about it. Reader is 100% bisexual. I wanted to write this fic for some time now because I have a crush on Alicent ever since Season One so yeah... Here we go... 😩😈

WARNINGS — cheating, homosexuality seen as something *wrong* (by Alicent), mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut – tiiiiny bit in the beginning)

WORD COUNT — 6,240

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BEDROOM HYMNS

You moved away from between her trembling legs after a cry of pleasure muffled by her own hand that she had covered her mouth with. Alicent’s juices were dripping down your chin when you smirked at her and looked up to meet her big brown eyes. Those soft big brown eyes that you adored more than anything. You had always adored them. So full of sadness and softness and you had never wanted anything but to make her feel better.

“Have I pleased you?” You asked while peppering her soft inner thighs with your kisses although you knew the answer already. Her husband had no idea how to please her.

The Queen only nodded and looked away. Poor Alicent – she always felt bad and guilty after the peak had already been reached. The sudden realisation of her sin was soul-crushing but the tension and desire had been too great to ignore them. She deserved the relief and you did not see anything bad about it.

“How many times do we have to do this?” You sighed and lied next to her in her bed. Your fingertips caressed her sides and your lips attached themselves to the crook of her neck, smelling all the scented oils in her hair. She was The Queen of the Realm and she was pampered like no other Lady. “There is no shame in this.”

“There is a sin,” Alicent turned her head around to finally meet your gaze. She raised her hand to nervously play with the seven-pointed star pendant on her sweaty chest.

“Why?” You bit on your lip and caressed her auburn locks out of her face.

“It is betrayal,” she frowned as if she was getting frustrated with your lack of understanding.

“It would have been if you lied with a man,” you explained and kissed her cheek before laying on your back and staring at the ceiling.

“I should find your vague idea of morality perplexing,” Alicent pointed out and you couldn’t help but chuckle at her confession.

“But you do not and thank Gods for that,” you rolled your eyes with a smirk.

A silence occurred as Alicent kept playing nervously with the pendant between her fingers and you were staring at the ceiling and counting all the cracks.

“What kind of husband is my brother?” She asked suddenly and you turned your head around to look at her again.

“A good one,” you admitted, feeling nearly guilty for that because you knew why she was asking – her husband was not good. Not to her and not to her children.

“Why are you doing this then?” Alicent asked.

It was obvious why her brother was on her mind now. He would arrive at King's Landing any day now. You couldn’t wait to see Gwayne again after a few months of being apart and you only wished he had taken your son with him but he could not. Robyn was the eldest son and he was supposed to stay in Oldtown. He had just become a squire and leaving his knight for a few long weeks would not be advised, therefore you had to go on missing your boy. Day after day as if he was a burning hole in your chest. Mothers would always miss their sons, you assumed.

“To kill the time,” you shrugged your arms, not wanting to reveal how much Alicent meant to you and for how long. “And to help you. You are my friend and I love you,” you confessed.

Alicent always loved Princess Rhaenyra more. Your father was a Master of Coin in King Viserys’ Small Council and you were growing up together – three girls running around happily. Or rather – two girls following the Princess like two overjoyed puppies. Rhaenyra was the centre of everything for you and not only because she was the Princess but also because she meant everything to Alicent. No matter how much effort you were putting into making Alicent like you more, you were destined to fail for she always was choosing Rhaenyra over you.

It made you grow bitter towards The Princess but never towards Alicent. You were blaming yourself – you had to become more and try harder perhaps and maybe then you’d earn more than just leftover crumbs of her love and friendship.

You couldn’t understand your feelings back then – why was the attraction so strong, what was making you feel so attached to the young Hightower Lady. You were the same age and yet everything she said was like a command to you. Wherever she went, you followed. Even when you felt like a burden because she so clearly would rather be left alone with Rhaenyra. But Rhaenyra never minded your presence because to her you were only a pawn on the board, an ornament, an addition of no importance. So, you often witnessed the two girls laughing together, whispering, exchanging small gestures of affection. You were only watching. Observing as your heart ached.

During The Heir's Tournament you met Ser Gwayne Hightower, Alicent’s older brother. He was young then, eager to show off his abilities and make his family proud. Perhaps he did not have his sister’s big brown eyes but he had the auburn hair you loved so much about her and he had her softness about him. You were enamoured with him in no time and when he approached the royal box to greet his sister – he caught your eye and you caught his and for that moment when your eyes met, you felt butterflies all over your body.

Ser Gwayne Hightower received your favour on that day and the sparkles of joy in your eyes while you were throwing the wreath at him were very obvious to your father and to his as well. You could not know that then but they exchanged meaningful looks for a short moment.

Even though Gwayne lost the duel with Prince Daemon Targaryen, he did not lose your affection. In fact, witnessing him nearly winning and losing only because Prince Daemon chose to play dirty – it only solidified your feelings. Ser Gwayne was a righteous man, a chivalrous knight and a brave one, too. It took lots of courage to face Prince Daemon Targaryen himself.

Gwayne was carried away with his face covered in blood and dirt while his mind was filled with thoughts of you – of losing your favour and your interest. However, you hurried to his side right after the tournament ended to make sure he was fine. And at the sight of you – he truly was fine again.

You were only ten and five but you knew already that Ser Gwayne was the only man you could see yourself being married off to. Thankfully, your father saw that, too. Two years later you were sent to Oldtown and for the whole time in between you were exchanging letters. When Alicent was married off to King Viserys shortly after his wife’s death, you still felt bitter but not as much as you could because you mostly felt excited about your own upcoming wedding.

However, the sadness and anxiety on Alicent’s face on her wedding day were a sight you would never forget.

Years and years of the happy marriage had passed and you were still in touch with your sister-in-law because of the letters you were exchanging and her son that you and Gwayne were raising in Oldtown – Prince Daeron Targaryen. But other than that, you had your own life now to live, your own duties, your own offspring and Alicent was simply not occupying your mind as much as in your adolescent years. 

You were aware of King Viserys’ health getting worse and worse as Alicent was ruling the Kingdom in his name. The burden of responsibility was heavy and her marriage was getting more and more difficult. You couldn’t say the same of your own union – you loved Gwayne and he loved you. Just like every married couple you had your misunderstandings and disagreements but you were grateful for him every day of your life and you knew well that he felt the same towards you.

It was after breakfast on one of those days that seemed to be pretty typical in the morning and then they turned out to be life-changing for a person. Without a warning and without an ominous feeling deep in one’s gut, they just happened and changed lives.

A letter came to you from Queen Alicent and you expected nothing of great importance in it so you put it below the pile of letters you had to respond to this morning. You sat by your desk and dipped the feather in the black ink as you started to perform one of your duties as Lady Hightower, helping your husband to run Oldtown in his father’s name.

Letter after letter, until finally you were left with the last one. You opened it with a small yawn, which turned into a frown after reading Alicent’s plea and request.

“What is it?” Gwayne entered your chambers this very moment but his smile dropped at the sight of your face.

You folded the letter suddenly as if it was a secret or something dirty but it only increased your husband’s curiosity as he approached the table and raised an eyebrow at you.

“What is it?” He repeated the question and you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to find the right words.

“It is from your sister,” you replied and looked up to meet his confused gaze. He knew about your friendship and for you to react this way at one of Alicent’s letters was simply unusual.

“Is he dead?” Was all Gwayne asked.

“No, Gods, no,” you shook your head and took a deep breath in. “Not yet,” you added.

“What is it then?” Gwayne lifted your chin up gently to make sure your eyes would still be on his. You swallowed a lump in your throat and finally decided to tell him what his sister had requested.

“Queen Alicent wishes for me to become one of her ladies-in-waiting,” you revealed and Gwayne’s confusion only grew. “She feels lonely in King’s Landing, she needs a friend by her side. Somebody she can trust.”

“It is out of the question,” Gwayne took the folded paper from your hands and read the letter himself, still standing above you as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers.

Your own feelings were chaotic at that moment. Something in your heart wanted to run to King’s Landing at this very moment because Alicent needed you and because you wanted to make her life easier and make her happy. You had always wanted nothing but her happiness.

But you had your own duties in Oldtown and you had your husband here and your children. You could not just leave like that, could you? Especially when Oldtown was so far away from King’s Landing.

“It is out of the question,” Gwayne said again and threw the letter on your desk. “Reply to her that your Lord Husband does not agree.”

“She is your sister,” you looked up at him, pleadingly.

“Yes and I have nothing but love for her in my heart but her request is selfish,” he clenched his jaw as he looked you up and down, visibly surprised that you were not agreeing with him on this. “Why does she want to take you away from me? You are my wife.”

“Your wife – not your property,” you reminded him.

“That is debatable,” Gwayne huffed and looked away but before you could scold him, he continued with more. “Living in a different city, different castle, so far away from me… Will you still be my wife?” He turned his head around in an attempt to try to read your emotions.

“I will forever be your wife,” you stood up and took his hand into yours before placing it on your chest where your heart was. “But she needs me, Gwayne. She’s all alone there with no one by her side.”

“Father is with her,” Gwayne interrupted you. “He always favoured Alicent.”

“You do know that being favoured by him is a burden, not a prize,” you reminded. “Please, let me go. For some time at least. Until The King dies. It should not be for long and I’ll take the girls with me,” you tried to convince him as your fingers caressed his hand on your chest. “Please,” you whispered, looking up deep into his eyes.

After a long moment of silence and hesitation, your husband nodded his head reluctantly.

A few months later, you found yourself standing in the courtyard of The Red Keep, awaiting your husband’s arrival. He had a business to deal with in The Crownlands and he wanted to spend a few days with his family, too. You were caressing the creases on your dress with your hands and your teenage daughter Margaery was fixing her younger sister’s hairdo. Little Wyllow had been missing her father the most and she couldn’t wait for his arrival. In fact, she had made you and Margaery wait there since early morning and at this point you were exhausted already but you didn’t complain since you couldn’t wait to see Gwayne again either.

Even though it also felt a little weird and awkward since your mind was being flooded with memories of his sister’s body tangled with yours underneath her royal silk sheets. Her plump lips parted and soft moans escaping them, her beautiful big brown eyes hazy and filled with tears of shame and pleasure…

You were trying to shake those thoughts and images off of your head when you were interrupted by the sound of the horses approaching the gate.

“Father!” Wyllow nearly ran straight under the horse if she was not stopped by Margaery.

Your older daughter gave you a scolding look and she was right to do so because it was your duty to watch over your children, meanwhile you were distracted by the memories of dirty acts instead.

When you watched Gwayne jumping off of the horse, your heart clenched in your chest at the sight of him and you suddenly realised why Alicent was so filled with shame and guilt because now you felt them, too.

His handsome face, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you, his auburn hair reflecting in the sun… He truly was the man you loved. You just couldn’t help the fact you loved his sister, too.

“Father!” Wyllow finally was free to run into his arms and he crouched down to hug her and kiss her forehead.

“I am so happy to see you, little bird,” Gwayne cupped his daughter’s cheeks and she giggled.

He straightened himself but Wyllow clinged to his left hand so he used his right one to caress Margaery’s face lovingly.

“You’re growing fast, my love,” he pointed out.

“I am trying my best, Lord Father,” Margaery nodded her head with a smile and then she took a step back to get out of the way and let him greet you.

“Lord Husband,” you gave him a nervous and soft smile. Gwayne tilted his head a little and your heart skipped a beat. He was a very observant man but there was nothing that would give you away, right? What could it be?

“Lady Wife,” he smiled at you and took two steps ahead to be able to kiss the palm of your hand. Whatever he had noticed, he pretended it was nothing. At least for now.

“You must be exhausted,” you pointed out. “The chambers have been already prepared for you and I’m going to tell the maids to fix you a bath.”

“Does it mean we are not sharing the same chambers during my stay here?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow at you.

Margaery cleared her throat and she took Wyllow by her free hand.

“Shall we go inside now? Let our Lady Mother greet Lord Father properly,” she dragged her protesting sister behind her.

“She is becoming a fine Lady,” you chuckled awkwardly. “I can’t help feeling that the air and water in King’s Landing are making her grow up faster. Perhaps she is spending too much time with women older than her,” you explained, clasping your hands in front of yourself as if you had no idea what to do with them. “Come with me, I am sure you want to greet your father and sister, too.”

“I do,” Gwayne followed you inside while some of the men he had taken with him were taking care of his luggage with the help of The Red Keep’s servants. “You still haven’t answered my question about the chambers,” he pointed out when you were in the staircase together.

“My darling,” you turned around abruptly, making him stop his walk. “Your chambers are close to mine, please do not get cross with me. Those past few months I have learnt to love my solitude,” you explained and Gwayne tilted his head again but he only nodded.

“Let it be then,” he only said.

With each one of your husband’s kisses and each one of his touches, each one of your reached peaks and cries of pleasure, you felt more and more purified of sin as if his body was washing away Alicent’s smell off of you. After months of not laying together, you were lost in each other for hours with caring very little about getting any sleep. You were watching the sun rise behind the window when you were too exhausted to go on as you were laying on Gwayne’s chest, drawing circles there with your fingers and his hand was playing with your hair, gently massaging your scalp.

“Have you been faithful to me?” You asked casually and you could feel his muscles tensing under you.

You had no right to ask that – but he did not know of it.

“I have,” he answered. “Of course I have.”

“And if I say that the whores count, too?” You looked up playfully.

“I have been faithful to my Lady Wife,” Gwayne shook his head and you spotted a slight irritation on his face. He did not like it when his honour was being questioned – he was a knight, after all. “Why do you ask? Have you not been faithful to me?”

A shiver went down your spine at his chilling accusation.

“How can you ask me that?” You gasped.

“You have accused me first.”

“Because you are a man,” you reminded him.

“I am. And I know what men are like,” Gwayne nodded his head. “They must all be following you around – a beautiful Lady far away from her husband is like an invitation,” he finally cracked a smile, revealing that he was only jesting.

“I do not want any man but you,” you assured him as the tension left your body because you did not have to lie about it.

“That is good to know, my love,” Gwayne kissed the top of your head. “You had me worried with your cold greeting and not letting me into your chambers.”

“Are you not in my chambers now, Lord Husband?” You teased him and placed a kiss on his chest where his heart was. “And if my greeting was cold, then I owe you an apology. I spend too much time around your sister and her husband and I keep forgetting that some marriages are happy. That mine is…” You wanted to look up to meet his gaze but you couldn’t as something inside of you was stopping you.

“That is a shame,” Gwayne only said.

“It is, darling, but you are here now to remind me.”

You were sitting in the same chambers as Alicent, embroidering side by side and even though you were using no words, you found each other’s company comforting. Your arms were brushing as you both were focused on creating beautiful patterns on the same piece of fabric to make the work faster. It was supposed to be a beautiful green blanket with embroidered little dragons. 

Princess Helaena was sitting nearby and embroidering spiders on her own piece of fabric. Her cousin, Lady Margaery Hightower was sitting next to her and teaching her younger sister the craft. It was peaceful, cosy and quiet – you loved those moments the most because it was nearly as if Alicent was your own Lady Wife and you were just enjoying the time spent together with your family, far away from all those loud and obnoxious men surrounding you everywhere. These chambers were your escape and your own queendom.

When the doors opened, everyone except for Helaena looked up with a slight irritation since the man entering this sanctuary was nothing but an intruder. Even if the man was Ser Gwayne Hightower, who was loved by every person inside the chambers.

He cleared his throat when you gave him a soft smile, your arm still brushing Alicent’s and you were sitting in a way that made sure you were facing each other. You had never thought about it before but it was quite intimate indeed. Your husband’s tilted head made you realise that he had just observed something and after a short while you understood what it was as you moved away slightly.

“Brother,” Alicent greeted him. 

“Lord Husband,” you nodded at him.

“Forgive me for interrupting. I would like to take Margaery for a walk around the gardens,” he extended his hand towards his older daughter as Wyllow looked up at him with pleading eyes. “It must be Margaery alone this time but I promise you, little bird, I am going to take you for a walk later, too. Perhaps we’ll walk to the bay and watch the ships,” he assured her and she sighed with relief.

“You can finish without my help now, I believe,” Margaery handed the fabric to her younger sister. “Do try, at least. If you face any challenges, Lady Mother or Helaena shall help you.”

Helaena looked up when her name was mentioned and she gave Wyllow a soft smile that encouraged her little cousin to keep going. When Margaery stood up and left the sofa, Wyllow moved closer to Helaena and The Princess did not seem to mind.

“Can you help me with the ladybug?” She asked and Helaena’s face lit up at that.

“Lord Father,” Margaery took Gwayne by his arm and bowed her head at you and Alicent before walking out of the chambers with her father.

“I am wondering what is the matter my Lord Husband wishes to discuss with Margaery,” you hummed to yourself.

“She is ten and five now,” Queen Alicent pointed out. “What is the only possible matter that fathers wish to discuss with their daughters at that age?”

You furrowed your brows at her words because she was right and you did not like the sound of that. It was a shame that she was right, too, and not only for your own daughter but for every woman in this Realm. 

You saw Gwayne again before dinner, on your way to the dining hall. He was walking down the stairs and you rushed to him to walk by his side. He offered you his arm and you took it.

“I have a question for you, Lord Husband,” you started, nearly aggressively and he raised his eyebrows at that fierceness.

“What is it, my love?”

“Are you planning to marry our sweet Margaery off so quickly? I do not wish for her to get wed too soon,” you told him, hoping he would understand your point of view because sadly, in the end, the decision was his to make for women had always been properties of men – once her father’s, then her husband’s.

Sometimes you wished you had become a septa.

“Not soon, no. But she is ten and five. That was the age you were in when we met,” Gwayne reminded you with a smile.

“Yes, indeed, my darling, but it was us both meeting and falling in love. That is different, you must admit,” you pursed your lips.

“I must, indeed. Do not worry, I am not willing to force anything upon our sweet daughter. I have only told her to start looking around for suitable matches… soon,” your husband explained. “I am sure King’s Landing is full of important young men.”

“I do not wish for her to get married here. This place is rotten and so are its people,” you sighed. “My greatest wish is for Margaery to marry a man from The Reach.”

“We all have wishes, my darling wife,” Gwayne’s answer was nearly mocking but he spotted your annoyance so he looked around to make sure you were not being seen before pulling you by your waist and pushing you against the wall to steal a kiss from your lips. “Gods, I missed this,” he whispered and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Gwayne!” You scolded him playfully. “I missed this, too,” you added and caressed his cheek with your fingers.

But his smile dropped and eyes became serious all of the sudden. You stayed like that in a short moment of silence before he dropped the question that turned your guts inside out:

“What is the nature of your relationship with my sister?”

You were taken aback by his question and you moved your hand away from his face before taking a deep breath in, trying to steady your heartbeat.

“Alicent is my best friend,” you looked deep into his eyes, surprised by your own courage to lie like this…

But was it a lie? She was your friend, after all.

“There is intimacy between you two that I can only wish for between us these days,” Gwayne whispered and you bit on your lower lip.

“She is my main companion for weeks now,” you tried to explain.

“Are you still planning to come back home after The King dies?” Gwayne lowered his voice even more since talking about the monarch’s death could be seen as treason.

“Y-yes, of course,” you nodded nervously.

“Why the tremble of your voice?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow.

“What are you accusing me of?” You suddenly clenched your fists, trying to take another route of getting out of this awkward situation. “Your implications are indecent. You have been accusing me of obscenities ever since you arrived here. You wound me deeply, Lord Husband,” you straightened yourself.

“You have accused me first,” Gwayne reminded you.

“Without any reproach thrown at you. I have asked out of simple curiosity,” you informed him.

“You are right, do forgive me,” he reached for your hand to place a delicate kiss upon the palm of it. You sighed, feeling extremely guilty.

“You are forgiven,” you whispered, nearly inaudibly, because it felt wrong to be the one saying those words.

In fact, at that very moment, you promised yourself to fix everything. You promised yourself to invite Gwayne to your chambers again for the night and let his touch to purify you like on the previous night. And you would go to The Sept and you would pray the sin away, you would beg for forgiveness, you would be a better wife, perhaps you would beg Alicent to let you go back to Oldtown with your husband.

Yes, that was the plan.

In the early morning you couldn’t tell that you were well-rested. Your muscles were sore after the previous two nights and your head was hazy but you still got dressed up quickly when the sun was rising and creeping inside your chambers to shine upon Gwayne’s auburn hair. You leaned in to kiss his forehead and you left him sleeping to visit The Sept and be able to go back to The Red Keep before breakfast.

You had never been a devout but you were not a savage either. You believed in Gods and now more than ever you needed redemption.

You expected to be alone there at such an early hour but no – of course not. Queen Alicent was already there, kneeling by the stone table and lighting the candles. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in. She was your greatest temptation and it was a cruel joke that the Gods had played on you to put her there at this time when you visited The Sept to pray her very own self away from your life.

Alicent looked up, surprised to see you. Her soft features were as sad as usual but at the sight of you she seemed to be a bit happier – relieved, in a way. Your heart clenched inside your chest. How could you ever want to leave her? You couldn’t. She was too dependent on you. Her happiness was and so was her sanity. Leaving her would be equal to killing her.

“I have not expected you in The Sept at such an early hour,” she commented as you kneeled next to her.

“I have not expected myself here either,” you smirked. “I came here to ask for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness? Aren’t you always the one telling me that what we do is no sin?” Alicent furrowed her brows.

“I have lied to my husband. That is a sin,” you confessed and Alicent did not say anything to this. “I… I will have to go back to Oldtown, I think… I can’t… I can’t go on like this,” you looked down and Alicent remained silent but you didn’t have to look at her to know her big brown eyes were filled with tears. “I miss my son and I miss Oldtown… King’s Landing is corrupt and I do not wish for my daughters to grow up here. I… I miss Gwayne, too. I love him, I love him, I love him…”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” Sudden, harsh question made you look up to meet her teary gaze.

“I’ve been loving him ever since I saw him during the tournament. You were there, sitting by my side,” you reminded her.

“You love him because he is my brother but your life has always revolved around me,” Alicent pointed out and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You… You knew?” You only asked.

“I was blind to choose Rhaenyra because she was never for me to reach. She was The Princess and you were equal to me, so devoted. Blindly, very often. I took you for a fool and only after losing you, I realised. When you were sent to Oldtown, I suddenly understood that my only friend had left my side,” Alicent explained. “My only friend and the only person who has ever… Who has ever loved me – except for my mother.”

“Gwayne loves you, too,” you pointed out.

“Does he? He took you away from me,” Alicent’s jaw clenched and your eyes widened. She was not being rational but you knew why – she was scared of losing you again. In fact, she was determined to make you stay by her side.

“You will not let me leave, will you?” You whispered.

Alicent opened her mouth to say something but then her face softened and she stood up rapidly to walk away.

“I am sorry… I do not wish to… Act like this… I do not recognise myself,” she admitted with her voice full of shame. She raised her hands up to her mouth as she nervously bit on the soft skin around her fingernails.

You didn’t answer because you were too lost in your own thoughts. Was she right again? About you loving Gwayne only because he was her brother? You had never thought about it before. It would mean your whole marriage was a lie, an illusion – or rather a delusion.

“When I’m with him, I don’t imagine you,” you stood up as well when the realisation hit you. “But when I’m with you, he doesn’t exist to me. It’s as if there were two of me.”

“I do not understand,” Alicent shook her head. “To me, there is only you,” she confessed and laid her eyes on you.

You didn’t know what to answer. You swallowed a lump in your throat instead.

“I am flawed, poisoned…” Alicent continued. “I can only feel this way towards other women. I felt this way towards Rhaenyra until a certain moment and then… Then my whole life was about you. I have spent hours inside this Sept, trying to pray this away,” Alicent’s silent tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I do not have such a conflict. I can love both men and women,” you told her. “I can love you and I can love Gwayne…”

“I do not wish to share you!” Alicent interrupted you and then she hid her face in her hand as she sobbed.

“Women are not their own property. I am not the one to decide if I can be shared,” you answered diplomatically.

You felt sorry for her but you also felt sorry for Gwayne that he was being betrayed behind his back by his own wife and sister – two women he loved the most except for his daughters. He would die for you both, he would kill to protect you or to defend your honours – even though none of you had an honour anymore. He was the real victim here.

But one more look at Alicent’s sad eyes was enough to break you again. You approached her to cup her face and kiss her softly. She protested in the beginning since you were inside The Sept but you didn’t give a fuck about it anymore – you would go to Seven Hells anyway.

“I shall not leave you,” you promised her.

When you came back to your chambers, Gwayne was dressing up in front of the mirror. He raised an eyebrow at you entering the room.

“Where have you been?” He asked.

“In The Sept to pray,” you answered truthfully.

“Has my sister turned you into a devout like her already?” He chuckled.

“She has a great influence on me,” you nodded and walked up to him to kiss his cheek.

“You even smell like her,” he said and your heart skipped a beat.

“I am fond of her scented oils and she allows me to use them,” you answered.

“It feels weird when I’m fucking you, I have to admit,” Gwayne chuckled awkwardly and so did you.

“You shall fuck me more then,” you pointed out quietly.

“Even more, Lady Wife?” He shook his head with another chuckle.

“Until her scent is gone,” you explained and looked out of the window.

Gwayne did not say anything to this but his smile disappeared. From the corner of your eye you saw his reflection in the mirror and you realised that he had finally understood what was going on behind his back.

After a while, which felt like forever, he cleared his throat:

“It is a putrid place indeed.”

“You must take me far away from here,” you turned around to grab his arm and your heart broke when you felt him flinch a little. “You must save my soul and take me home,” you pleaded despite the promise you had given to Alicent earlier but that promise had not been given sober. You had been intoxicated with her.

“You must come back home yourself, my love,” Gwayne smiled sadly at you and caressed your hair gently, “for I do not wish to force anything upon you. You are always kind enough to remind me that you are not my property, aren't you? And I agree,” he nodded, “this decision is for you to make.”

And you didn’t know what to say or do because there was no decision that felt right and no decision that didn’t feel wrong either. Gwayne was your duty and your sacrifice and Alicent was a self-indulgent sin but you loved them both so much that you cursed the whole Hightower bloodline for existing because your life would be so much easier without them.

You knew what Gwayne was expecting of you – he expected you to choose your duty because – just like his sister – he was all about honour and decency. But you didn’t want your husband to feel as if you were choosing him only because of your marriage vows – you wanted him to know that you cared for him, too, even though he wouldn’t believe you now.

But there was only one choice for you anyway, wasn’t it? You couldn’t just stay with Alicent and pretend that it was the right thing to do. You couldn’t abandon your family and your duties for her and she had to understand it.

You looked deep into Gwayne’s eyes and your own filled with tears at the sight of all the pain and sadness in his. You dropped your hand down from his arm to intertwine your fingers with his.

“I do not think of myself as flawed or poisoned for feeling the way I feel,” you explained to him. “But I do not wish for my nature to spoil our union. If anybody can save me, it would be you,” you whispered. A plea. A desperate cry for help. “I am a mother, I am a wife, I am Lady Hightower and my home is in Oldtown.”

Your heart, however, would forever be divided; torn and bleeding. The deep, burning hole was forever to stay there for one reason or another.

MASTERLIST