#Story Event: The Calm Before The Storm

[scarlet-rider]

ALERT FOR PALDEAN CITIZENS

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A dangerous Pokémon was encountered in East Province, Area Three, and is currently suspected to still be roaming the area. It’s been described to resemble a robotic Gallade, and wields a double-edged pink spear. It brutally attacked a group consisting of two Elite Four members, a champion ranked trainer, and a tourist, leaving one gravely injured.

Please avoid the aforementioned area until the threat is handled. If you happen to encounter this Pokémon, report it immediately and avoid contact. Do not attempt to engage it or capture it. It has shown to be extremely hostile and WILL attack humans.

———

[pinkhairandpokemon]

Elite Four Rika VS. Ex-Champion Blake!

———

[LIVE VIDEO FEED STARTING…]

———

Blake and Rika are seen standing on opposite sides of the battle court in Levincia, preparing their Pokémon for battle.

Suddenly, the camera whirls around, revealing none other than the Levincia Gym Leader and famous streamer, Iono.

“BOO! Your eyeballs are mine! Caught in my Electroweb!” She suddenly exclaims, making a toothy grin at the camera. “‘Ello, ‘ello, hola! Ciao and bonjour! Surprised to see me? I know this isn’t my usual platform, but my old buddy-ol-pal Blake asked yours truly to record this match and lemme borrow their phone to do so! Gotta say, their phone case is severely lackin’ in stickers… Anywho, I hope you’re all ready for an all-out battle between an ex-champion of Galar and one of Paldea’s very own Elite Four!! ‘Course it won’t be as electrifying as my matches, but hey, it’s hard to leave the audience as starstruck as I do! Oh well, I’ll be commentating, so I bet you’ll all be left on the edge of your seats regardless! Nyhahaha!”

She turns the camera back to the court, and each side has already sent out their Pokémon of choice. On Blake’s side, their Inteleon stands proudly, his tail flicking from side to side. On Rika’s, her Donphan scraps its hoof across the ground, huffing in anticipation.

“Alright then Pinky, I’d give the first move, but…” Rika says with a relaxed smirk as she adjusts her glove. Then, in the blink of an eye, her expression turns serious. “I’m not feeling that nice today! Think fast! Iron Head!”

The Donphan bellows as a metal sheen coats the top of its head, before it charges towards Kappa at breakneck speed. With incredible reflexes, the Inteleon simply leaps high into the air just as the Ground-type barrels past, narrowly avoiding the attack.

Blake just smirks right back as they watch Kappa fall through the air.

“Nice try, but you can’t catch us off guard that easily,” Blake remarks, before flinging their hand out as they call out a move. “Use Night Slash!”

The audience gasps as dark energy begins to gather around Kappa’s hand, materializing into the shape of shadowy claws. He then dives down towards Donphan, slashing across its thick hide. The elephant Pokémon grunts in pain, but manages to stay standing as Kappa lands a few feet away.

“Who-ho-hoa!” Iono is heard behind camera. “Wowza! And here I thought Inteleon couldn’t learn Night Slash! Who woulda thought!”

Rika gives the Inteleon a calculating stare as she rubs her chin, like she has an idea forming. “Use Earthquake!”

With a stomp of Donphan’s foot, the ground begins to shake violently, and Kappa doesn’t have enough time to jump out of the way. The Inteleon grunts as he’s tossed around like a rag doll by the cracking earth, a glow beginning to envelop his body.

There’s another gasp from the crowd as “Kappa’s” form begins to shift as the Earthquake ends- leaving a Zoroark lying on the ground where he once was. The fox Pokémon rises to its feet with a disgruntled noise, brushing dirt off its black and red fur.

“HOLY GUACAMOLE! A Zzzoroark?! Now that’s a plot twist for the century folks!” Iono comments.

Blake sighs, but doesn’t seem too upset about their Pokémon’s true form being exposed. “Looks like the party tricks are over… Okay Nox, use Focus Blast!”

Nox leaps to the opposite side of the field, as far away from his opponent as he can get. Then, he begins charging a ball of light between his paws, concentrating intently on Donphan.

“Iron Head, quick!” Rika shouts out, and just like that, her Pokémon is charging at the Zoroark again with a reverberating battle cry.

Even so, Nox remains still, holding his ground as the Ground-type closes in. The orb of burning light in his paws gradually begins to grow larger, before finally, he unleashes it in a huge burst just as the Donphan’s attack is about to connect. The beam hits it mark, sending the elephant flying backwards and skidding across the field.

Rika visibly winces as her Pokémon is knocked into the side of the battle court, leaving a huge cloud of kicked up dirt. Once the dust settles a little, she jogs over to the Donphan’s collapsed form and crouches down beside it.

Donphan groans, lifting itself up a little as Rika places a firm pat on its head. “Atta girl, you did your best.” The Elite Four member chuckles, feeding Donphan a Sitrus Berry before recalling it to its ball. Clicking the Pokéball back onto her belt, she strolls back over to her side of the battlefield, tucking her hands into her pockets.

“Alright, first round’s yours, Pinky.” she says to Blake, already grabbing a second Pokéball and tossing it up and down a few times. “You won’t be getting me with that little illusion trick of yours again, though.”

Blake just smiles proudly as Nox rushes to their side, and they give him a gentle pat between the ears before looking towards Rika again. “Oh don’t worry, that’s not all I have up my sleeve.”

They toss out a Pokéball, and the actual Kappa bursts out. The Inteleon lands in a spy pose, before rising to his feet and placing a hand on his hip.

Rika’s next to send out her Pokémon- her ace as well, no less. Clodsire comes out in a burst of light, plopping onto the ground with a loud, throaty roar.

The next round kicks off almost immediately, with Kappa firing off a Snipe Shot and Clodsire blocking it with a Protect. This goes on for a while, the Pokémon throwing attacks back and forth, before Rika is seen grabbing something out of her pocket.

“Alright, let’s see if we can shake things up a bit…” she mutters, the Tera Orb in her hand beginning to shine. “Show ‘em how we do things the Paldea way, pal!”

With a flick of her wrist, she tosses the Tera Orb, and the camera shakes a little as a flash of light obscures the view. Soon, Clodsire is shown, a dazzling Ground-type Tera Jewel crowned upon its head.

Blake winces at the blinding light, holding their arm up to shield their eyes.

“Earthquake!”

The ground splits open once more in sparkling orange light with a slam of Clodsire’s flipper, small fissures cracking and moving underneath Kappa. Strengthened by the Tera energy, its power is doubled compared to last time. The Inteleon grimaces as the violent vibrations under his feet throw him off balance, causing him to tumble backwards.

The quakes cause another huge cloud of dust to rise, and it’s hard to see what’s happened to Kappa once the tremors settle. Rika grins, thinking she’s won- only for her jaw to drop when the dust dissipates once more, and finds an empty space where Kappa once was.

Unbeknownst to her, an invisible figure has begun to dart around the arena. Her eyes searching for the now absent Inteleon, she doesn’t see the thin outline of the Water-type’s form until it’s too late.

Kappa’s blue scales materializes in the air above Clodsire, his index finger pointed downwards. He fires another Snipe Shot directly at the base of its Tera Jewel, causing the mud fish to recoil back from the super-effective damage.

Kappa backflips away before Clodsire can do anything to retaliate, landing in a crouch as he readies himself for whatever his opponent has planned next.

Once Clodsire shakes off the attack, Rika tugs at her glove as she shouts out another command. “Use Toxic!”

At a surprising speed, Clodsire catches Kappa off guard and fires a blob of purple gunk his way. The Inteleon moves to dodge, but ends up getting splatted regardless. He hisses uncomfortably when the sludge makes contact with his skin, dark bags forming under his eyes as the poison sets in.

Blake curses under their breath, before reaching into their pocket. “Shit- okay, let’s wrap this up fast…”

They pull out their own Tera Orb, tossing it towards Kappa. In another brilliant flash of light, the Inteleon emerges with a fountain-shaped Tera Jewel on his head, his scales illuminated in a crystal sheen. Rika’s eyes light up in surprise for a moment, before an impressed smirk rises to her face.

“Use Hydro Cannon!”

“Throw ‘em off with Earthquake!”

Clodsire raises his fin, planning to knock its opponent off balance before he can take aim and build up his attack- but it underestimates just how quick Kappa is to react. Despite the poison slowing him down, the Inteleon manages to charge up a full-force Hydro Cannon and fires it towards Clodsire in a matter of milliseconds.

Clodsire cries out as the jet of water hits its mark, its Tera Jewel shattering on impact. The mud fish lets out a gurgle as it returns to normal and slumps to the ground, defeated.

“Aaaand that declares Blake-y our winner today!” Iono announces from behind the screen.

Rika appears taken aback by her loss, but eventually, accepts it with a huff as she rolls her eyes and gives a slow clap. While she strolls over to Clodsire’s side to make sure it’s okay, Blake jumps up in glee and runs to Kappa, tackle-hugging the lanky blue lizard as he reverts back from his Terastalization.

“That’s how it’s done, bud!” Blake laughs as they give their Inteleon an affectionate squeeze, before reaching into their bag and grabbing a Pecha Berry. Kappa trills in gratitude as he accepts it and bites into it, the effects of the poison beginning to drain away swiftly.

Rika strolls over to their side of the field, clipping Clodsire’s Pokéball back onto her belt before she extends her hand out to the shorter trainer. “Not bad, Pinky.” She smiles as she nods towards Kappa in acknowledgement, who towers beside his trainer. “I gotta say, that Inteleon of yours is quick on his feet. Guess I shouldn’t have expected any less from an ex-Champion’s ace, though.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely not gotten rusty,” Blake chuckles as they accept the handshake, the slightest hint of pink appearing on their face. “Y-you did great too, though!”

“It was an honor to battle you,” Nox suddenly speaks up, appearing besides Blake. The sound of the Zoroark’s illusion voice causes Rika to jump back a little in surprise.

“Gah-!” she yelps, but relaxes when she sees the black and red fox. “Uh- uh, yeah- good game?”

Chuckling at her reaction, Blake gives Nox a small scratch under the chin while returning Kappa to his ball with their other hand. They then turn to the camera, waving at the holder. “Thanks so much for recording it for us Iono, can I have my phone back?”

“Okie dokie!” Iono giggles, skipping over to the pair. She turns the camera back to her one last time, winking and making a peace sign. “Looks like that’z a wrap, folks! If you found that battle to be- bzzzt! -shocking, go smash that subscribe bu- Oh wait, this isn’t my account. Oh wellsies! Force of habit!”

“Iono…?”

“Yea yea, gimme a sec!” She looks away to make a shooing gesture at Blake. “BAM! Your eyeballs are mine- caught in my Electroweb! Whosawhatsit? Iono the Supercharged Streamer! Catch y’all later!”

With that, she finally hands the phone back to Blake. They and Rika are both seen looking down at the camera as Blake sighs, fumbling to turn off the recording. “Was she streaming? I just told her to take a video- oh well…”

———

[END OF LIVE VIDEO FEED]

———

[deception-united]

Let's talk about foreshadowing.

Foreshadowing can add a lot of depth to your writing and make it more exciting for the readers. They create a sense of coherence and satisfaction when future events unfold as hinted—or shock if they don't.

Here are some tips for effectively using foreshadowing in your novels and books:

Plan ahead. Foreshadowing works best when it's woven into the fabric of your story from the beginning. As you outline your plot, think about key events and revelations you want to foreshadow, and strategically place hints and clues accordingly.

Use subtlety. Foreshadowing doesn't have to be obvious or heavy-handed. The best foreshadowing is often subtle and understated, leaving readers with a sense of intrigue and curiosity rather than outright prediction.

Establish patterns & motifs. Look for opportunities to establish recurring patterns, motifs, or symbols that can subtly hint at future events. These can be visual, thematic, or even linguistic cues that tie into the larger narrative arc of your story.

Create tension. Foreshadowing is most effective when it creates tension and anticipation for the reader. Use foreshadowing to hint at potential conflicts, obstacles, or twists.

Reveal gradually. Foreshadowing doesn't have to be limited to one-off hints or clues. Instead, consider how you can layer foreshadowing throughout your story, gradually revealing more information as the plot unfolds.

Pay attention to timing. The timing of your foreshadowing is crucial. Introduce hints and clues at strategic points in your story, building anticipation and suspense without giving too much away too soon.

Revisit foreshadowing. Ensure that foreshadowed events are eventually fulfilled or addressed in the story. Revisiting earlier hints or clues can provide a satisfying payoff for readers and reinforce the narrative coherence.

Balance subtlety and clarity. Foreshadowing should be subtle enough to intrigue readers without giving away major plot twists too early. Aim for a balance where foreshadowing is noticeable upon reflection but doesn't detract from the immediacy of the story.

Let's look at some ways to incorporate foreshadowing:

Symbolism: Symbolic imagery or motifs can serve as subtle foreshadowing devices. Think about objects, settings, or descriptive details that can serve as symbolic foreshadowing. A recurring image or object, for example, might subtly hint at future events or themes in the story.

Dialogue clues: Characters can drop hints or make cryptic remarks that foreshadow upcoming events. Dialogue is a natural way to introduce foreshadowing without being too obvious.

Character reactions: Pay attention to how characters react to certain situations or events. Their emotions or responses can foreshadow future conflicts or revelations.

Subtle descriptions: Incorporate subtle descriptions or details that hint at future events. These can be easily overlooked on a first read but become significant upon reflection or when the foreshadowed event occurs.

Dreams/visions: Dreams, visions, and other forms of altered consciousness can be effective vehicles for foreshadowing—they can hint at an upcoming event, or explore characters' subconscious desires and fears. This method can sometimes be either blatant or subtle depending on how it is incorporated.

Foreshadowing through setting: Use the setting to foreshadow events or developments in the story. For example, a stormy night might foreshadow conflict or turmoil ahead, while a serene setting might signal upcoming peace or resolution. (On the flip side, this can be used to catch readers off guard, like a "calm before the storm" type of situation.)

Parallel storylines: Foreshadowing can occur through parallel storylines or subplots. Events in one storyline can subtly hint at future developments in another, creating anticipation and intrigue.

Recurring themes: Identify recurring themes or motifs in your story and use them to foreshadow future events. These thematic elements can serve as subtle hints or clues for attentive readers.

Misdirection: Foreshadowing can be used to misdirect readers and create suspense by hinting at one outcome while actually leading to another. (See my post on misdirection for more!)

Happy writing! ❤

Previous | Next

[the-raindeer-king]

Imagine being the only medic on base that Ghost is comfortable with. Like in the rare instance that he's injured during training, or on a mission, or just in a mood, he goes to you. You're a calming presence in the storm that is Simon Riley's life.

There's definitely something between y'all that's more than just professional doctor and patient, but you haven't crossed any lines just yet, going at the pace that Ghost has set. For the most part, you're fine with it. Not like you're looking to rush into anything anyway, and Ghost has been friendly thus far, in his own distant kind of way.

Now, imagine you haven't seen Ghost in a couple of weeks. Nothing unusual. The task force had been sent to check out some terrorist activity, and wasn't expected back for another couple of days at the earliest.

Color you surprised, when Sargent MacTavish comes barreling into the med bay, making a direct beeline to you. The other medics part like the fucking Red Sea, giving the Scotsman easy access to you. He doesn't even offer an explanation, just grabs your arm and demands, "Hurry."

If you were surprised before, you're absolutely baffled when Soap leads you to Price's office. You had been expecting the tarmac, or maybe Ghost's barrack, but not Price's office.

Your confusion only grows tenfold as you're led inside.

inside Price's office, slouched over in one of the chairs, is a teenager. He doesn't look older than thirteen or fourteen, with gangly limbs and a permanent scowl that reminds you a very specific Lieutenant. If you squint, you'd almost think this kid is somehow related to Ghost.

It's then that you notice Ghost is the only task force member missing from the room.

"Captain," you say, turning to look at Price, who's sitting across from the teen, "What's going on? Where's Lieutenant Riley?"

Price is quiet for a moment, staring at the teen, who just scowls in response. Sighing, Price turns his attention to you. There's a serious look on his face, the kind that only accompanies bad news.

"There was an... accident on our last mission. Ghost got separated from the rest of the team. To make a long story short, he got ambushed by the enemy. We don't know exactly how the events transpired, or what happened, but," Price pauses, glancing towards the teenager once more.

"But this is Simon Riley."

Part2 Part3

[keeryhours]

baby, it’s cold outside - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x Best friend! female reader

Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

2024 Promptmas Masterlist

Summary:

A planned movie night with your best friend turns into more when you get trapped in a snow storm.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, accidental creampie

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N:

This is my first fic for the Twelve Days of Promptmas event by @littlexdeaths ! Prompt: “snowed in”

—

The Hawkins forecast was calling for snow. A lot of it, in fact. You weren’t worried about it. In fact, you had planned a fun night in with your best friend in the world.

You had everything all ready. The house to yourselves while your parents were visiting family for the weekend, plenty of hot chocolate, and the fireplace roaring comfortingly. It was perfect.

You were dressed in your coziest PJs - you and Steve had picked out matching pairs. What can you say, you loved making an event out of things.

The snow was falling heavily outside and you were just pulling the cookies you had baked out of the oven when the front door opened and you heard footsteps heading into the kitchen.

“Hey hey,” Steve greeted, still dressed in his uniform from Family Video and holding a bag in his hand. “Smells good.”

“Hey Stevie,” you greeted with a smile. You sat the hot tray on top of the stove and turned the oven off. “Whatcha got for us?”

Steve pulled three VHS tapes from the plastic bag. “I got A Christmas Story, Gremlins, and Die Hard.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Die Hard?”

“What? It’s a Christmas movie!”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Wanna go get changed?”

“God yes, I’m so ready to get out of these clothes.” Steve sat the movies down on the counter and headed down the familiar path to your bedroom.

You examined the movie choices as you waited. When Steve returned, he was dressed in pajamas that mirrored yours, cozy red flannel bottoms and a black sweater-like top with a reindeer on it.

“It’s really coming down out there,” he pointed out as he glanced out the window. “I had to drive like 20 under the speed limit to get here.”

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be too crazy,” you said, grabbing A Christmas Story. “It should calm down by the time we’re done with our movie night. I wouldn’t stress about it. Wanna watch this one first?”

“Sure.” Steve grabbed it from your hand along with the other two movies as you plated the cookies and poured two mugs of hot chocolate. When you entered the living room, Steve was putting the movie in the VCR, then falling back on the couch.

You sat the treats on the table and gathered the bundle of cozy blankets before sitting next to your best friend. The blankets spread over both of your laps, you dug into the treats as the familiar movie played on the TV screen.

Despite the house’s heating, the warm drinks, and the blankets shared between you, it was cold. You found yourself shivering, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“Are you cold?” Steve asked quietly, noticing your shaking against his arm.

“Freezing,” you admitted. Your hands were ice cold, as if the snow from outside was invading the warm safety of the house.

“C’mere.” Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you tightly against his side. You froze for a moment - this was more intimate than you and Steve usually got. Sure he was your best friend, and he was also gorgeous, but there was nothing more between you. But god, he was so warm and cozy, like a heater. He warmed your body immediately.

As the movies played, you found yourself cuddling closer and relaxing into Steve’s side. At some point he began rubbing gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb. The electricity his touch was sending through your skin was unfamiliar - you’d touched Steve plenty of times, but it never felt like this. You’d never thought about what it might feel like to hold his hand, or what his lips might feel like on yours. But now you were. Now it’s all you could think about, to the point that you weren’t even paying attention to the movies anymore.

When your last movie of the night, Gremlins, ended, Steve removed his arm from around you, much to your dismay. He stretched, letting out a wide yawn.

“I guess I’d better get going home before it gets too bad out there,” he said, although neither of you really wanted him to.

“Yeah, I guess so. I had fun,” you smiled, even though you wanted nothing more than to ask him to stay, to hold you longer.

What was up with you?

Steve gathered his stuff, his clothes from work in the bag he had brought with him. You followed him to the front door.

He pulled it open, and you were both greeted with a rush of freezing cold air and snow. The forecast had not been lying - the storm was intense. It covered the yard, the unplowed road, even Steve’s car was buried in the glittering white snow.

You and Steve both gaped at the spectacle. Steve shut the door and turned to you.

“Uh…I’m not sure I can leave.”

“You can stay,” you said, maybe a little too quickly. “Just spend the night. It’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Steve breathed out in relief. “Damn. I really wasn’t expecting it to actually get that bad.”

You followed Steve back into the living room, where he sat his bag down again. “You can pull out the couch,” you told him. “It’s pretty comfy. I have an extra new toothbrush you can use.”

“Sounds good.” He smiled at you gently. Tenderly.

As the two of you got ready for bed, your mind was racing. Why couldn’t you stop thinking about how it felt to lay against Steve? How good he had smelled, like honey and his fancy cologne. How warm his body was against yours. How it had felt like you fit right in beneath his arm. How kissable his plush lips looked, how expressive his brown eyes were when he looked at you.

You were panicking.

Steve didn’t feel that way about you, you were sure of it. And you didn’t want to change your friendship by catching feelings. This was dangerous territory. You could only hope the thoughts would fade by morning.

You walked back to the living room to find Steve attempting to figure out the sofa.

“Here, let me help,” you said, moving over and grabbing the other side. Together you pulled the bed out. It was pretty comfy, as far as pull out couches go. You had spent many a night camped out on it during sleepovers with Carol Perkins growing up, before she grew up and decided to turn into a bitch. Now it was mostly unused.

You gathered some blankets and sheets from the hall closet, taking some pillows from your own bed for him. You helped Steve make the bed up, and when you were done, it looked perfectly comfortable. The fireplace still burned in the room, filling it with a comfortable warmth, although you still felt the chill.

“Thanks for helping me get all this set up,” Steve said, gesturing to his home for the night. “I had a great time with you tonight.”

You felt yourself blush, and looked down to hide it from him. “Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

Steve smiled again - how did you never notice how charming his smile was? “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you smiled back, and then turned to walk into your own bedroom for the night.

A firm hand on your arm stopped you, pulling you to spin around and crash into something hard. Before you could process it, soft lips were pressing onto yours.

You wrapped your arms around Steve’s neck, kissing him back just as passionately as he kissed you. Your lips worked together in perfect harmony, they were just as soft as they looked. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you let him in freely, your own pressing against his as he explored your mouth with an urgency, like he’d been waiting to do this for years.

You melted into his kiss, Steve’s hands caressing over your hips and sides. They trailed up beneath your pajama top, feeling the smooth skin beneath. He led you backwards towards the pull out bed, and you fell back onto it with Steve crawling on top of you.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathlessly when he finally broke the kiss.

“More than okay,” you answered, equally breathless and just wanting him to kiss you over and over again for the rest of the night. He smiled before he leaned in, trailing kisses along your jaw. You giggled as he moved to your neck, placing gentle kisses all over the skin.

“Good,” he said between kisses, “because I’ve wanted to do this for so long, you have no idea.”

His words made your breath hitch in your throat - or maybe it’s the way he started sucking on the spot between your neck and shoulder. “Steve…”

“Yeah?” He started pushing the sweater top up your body. He moved down to kiss over the exposed skin of your stomach, which made you gasp, his lips sending chills across your skin.

“I love you.”

Steve looked up at you from where he had been exploring your body, smiling that same familiar smile. “I love you, too.”

He pushed your top up the rest of the way, and you leaned up to help him remove it. You shivered as your body was exposed to the air, no bra so your nipples peaked in the chill. Steve drank in your bare chest before him, before moving back up to your eyes.

“Are you still cold?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted, but you didn’t want this to stop, either.

“I can warm you up…” he offered, “…from the inside.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

You laughed, your head thrown back. “Oh my god. You’re so lame.”

He was smiling as he stood up next to the bed, pulling his own pajama top over his head. His bare chest was exposed to you and you sat up and reached forward, rubbing your hands over the taut skin of his stomach, up and over the thick hair on his firm chest. He hummed as you did, his eyes falling closed.

He was gorgeous. You always knew he was, but seeing him like this for the first time, it was something else entirely. He was ethereal.

Your eyes drifted down to the large bulge pushing against the front of his flannel pants, straining against the material. You rubbed over it, feeling how hard he was already, and causing Steve to hiss as it twitched beneath your hand.

“Can I…?” You asked hesitantly, fingers grasping the waistband of his pants.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, a breathless laugh coming from his lips. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Pleased with his confirmation, you pulled his pants and boxers down in one go, his length surprising you as it sprung up, already incredibly hard. You gasped, which made Steve chuckle.

“I did not expect you to be hiding all that,” you commented, eyes wide as you took in the sight of him.

“Yeah? You like it?”

You looked up at his eyes. “You really don’t need your ego stroked.”

“I’ve got something you can stroke-“

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Steve looked like he was about to say something else but you shut him up yourself by wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, licking a long stripe along the underside to the tip. Steve let out a strangled groan, hand grasping at the back of your hair.

“Shit, babe-“

You wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue running over his slit and circling around his tip. You began to take more of him, relaxing your throat as you took his girth. He was bigger than any guy you’d been with before, and you were a little intimidated, but you were going to try your best. You gagged as you neared the entirety of him, and Steve’s hand tightened in your hair, although he didn’t force you.

“Feels so good baby, please don’t stop,” he rasped, encouraging you to take more. Your eyes were watering, your jaw aching as you took more and more of him.

He hit the back of your throat and your nose pressed against the soft curls at his base. His eyes widened as he looked down at you, his hand shaking. “Shit, no one’s ever taken it all before,” he remarked, as if he were in awe. “You’re incredible.”

You began to bob your head along his length, taking him as deep as possible every time. Steve groaned loudly above you, his eyes never leaving the way your lips fit around his cock.

When you felt his thighs start to tremble you lifted off of him, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick. He muttered a low “Fuuuuck.”

Steve gently pushed you back to lay on the bed, then crawled back over you again, placing a kiss above the waistband of your pajama pants before he was pulling them and your panties down your legs.

When you were bare before him, he spread your legs, taking in the sight of you. Before you knew what he was thinking, he ducked down between your legs, licking along your glistening folds. You gasped, hands tangling in his long locks.

“Oh, Steve-“ you gasped out, and you could feel him smile against your core.

“Taste so good,” he said, licking over your sensitive clit. You resisted the urge to close your legs around his head, the pleasure overwhelming as he focused on pleasing you with his mouth. He slipped a long finger inside of you, causing you to pull on his hair, which made him groan against you.

He pumped his finger in and out of you slowly a few times before adding another, stretching you in preparation to take his cock - although his fingers were nothing in comparison.

As Steve continued to work his tongue and lips expertly against your core, you felt your high building rapidly. It’s like he knew exactly what to do to drive you crazy, to bring you straight to your peak.

“Steve…’m gonna cum…” you whined, body writhing beneath his mouth, thighs trembling around his head. Every thrust of his fingers was so deep, the curl of them hitting that perfect spot inside.

“Cum on my tongue, angel,” he murmured between sucking on your clit, running his tongue around it. “Wanna taste it, wanna make you feel so good.” He added a third finger, pumping into you slow yet deep.

“You are,” you said breathlessly, “God, Stevie, feels so good.”

Your high hit you intensely, your back arching up off the bed and grinding against his mouth for more. You could feel his smirk against you as he lapped up every bit of your slick, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths as he pulled away, trailing kisses up your body until he reached your lips. He kissed you far too sweetly for what he had just done to you, but you found yourself melting into it once again as you tangled your hands in the soft hair at the base of his neck. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he kissed you deeply.

“Do you have a condom?” you asked as he pulled away to look down at you, something like love and adoration in his eyes.

“Uh…shit, no,” he admitted, looking sheepish. “I didn’t really expect anything like this to happen.”

You giggled. “Me, either.”

“Do you want to stop?” he asked you seriously. “We can stop. We don’t have to do this.”

You shook your head immediately. “No…I want to keep going.”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Stevie,” you assured him, pulling him closer once again. “Now fuck me, please?”

He groaned at your words. “Of course, baby.” He kissed along your cheek, down your jaw, to your neck. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He reached between your bodies, rubbing the head of his cock through your soaked folds, gathering it on his length. He lined himself up at your entrance, and looked you in the eyes as he pushed inside.

Your mouth fell open at the intrusion - way bigger than his fingers - it was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure as he filled you. He groaned loudly as he filled you completely, your hands trembling on his strong shoulders.

“You’re my favorite person,” he said, looking you in the eyes like he’d never meant anything more in his life.

“And you’re mine,” you promised him back, which made him smile and place a gentle kiss on your lips.

He slowly pulled out before pushing back into you, the hottest moan you’d ever heard spilling from his lips. “God, you feel amazing. So tight and perfect. Better than I imagined.”

Even through the intense pleasure of Steve fucking you, his words broke through the haze in your brain. “You’ve imagined?”

“Well yeah, of course,” he laughed. He buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking the spot that drove you crazy earlier. “So many times.”

“Me too,” you admitted, feeling the blush on your skin.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Steve said, as he leaned up to look down at you again. “You blush with your whole body, you know that?”

That only made your skin heat further.

Steve sped up his pace, thrusting into your tight heat faster as he chased his own pleasure. “Do you like it like this? Or should I go slower?”

“That’s perfect,” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and gripping onto his back for support. “Oh fuck, Stevie, feels so so good.”

He dropped his face back into the crook of your neck, moaning unashamedly as the sounds of your skin meeting filled the quiet living room. The only other sound was the crackling of the fireplace, and you could see the snow still falling hard outside the sliding back door. But just as he promised, Steve was keeping you nice and warm.

In a moment of unexpected boldness, you had an idea.

Grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders, you pushed him over so you were on top. His eyes went wide. “Woah.”

You giggled as you started grinding on him, the angle rubbing against your clit as you did, building your second orgasm of the night. “God, Stevie, you’re so big.”

“Yeah?” he gasped out, hands gripping tightly to your hips as you began to bounce on him. “Oh fuck honey, you feel incredible. So perfect for me.”

You threw your head back as you rode him with everything you had, his eyes glued on your bouncing tits as he felt his own release approaching. “So fucking sexy,” he muttered to himself, hands sliding up your sides to grab your breasts, kneading them in his hands before moving back to hold your hips with a bruising grip.

“Baby, I’m getting close,” he warned, his fingers digging tightly into your skin.

“Me too,” you moaned, and you reached down to rub circles on your clit, watching the way his eyes widened again as he watched you pleasure yourself.

“God- cum on my cock, baby, wanna feel your pussy clench around me.”

His words pushed you over the edge. Your cunt spasmed around his cock as you came even harder than before, crying out and calling his name over and over. “Steve, Steve, Steve…!”

“Oh, shit-“ The muscles in his neck went taut as his orgasm hit him unexpectedly, groaning and shooting his load deep inside you as he bucked his hips up wildly beneath you, pulling you down against him.

Once you had both come down to earth, the reality of what had just happened hit you both. “Oh, fuck, angel, I’m sorry-“

“It’s okay, Stevie,” you assured him, leaning forward to place a kiss on his lips. “I’m on the pill.”

He let out a relieved breath. “Thank god.”

You laughed as you lifted off of him and laid down on the mattress next to him. Steve wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to cuddle against his chest. “That was incredible,” you finally said.

“Hell yeah it was,” Steve agreed wholeheartedly. “Why didn’t we do this forever ago?”

“Because we’re idiots?” you giggled. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel,” Steve said, his hand caressing your cheek before he placed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Sleep in my bed with me?” you asked sheepishly, feeling nervous of his rejection despite what you’d just done together. “To keep me warm, of course.”

“Of course, baby. Where else would I be?”

[novaursa]

Fire's Legacy

- Summary: A few moons after he came for you, Maegor finally took you as his under eyes of the Old Gods of Valyria. And it didn't take long for you to find yourself with his child. Now it's the time to bring that innocent life into the world of fire and blood, and all you can do is pray it lives.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Note: This short story follows the events of Fire and Blood.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: bloodline

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: Unplanned post.

The day began like any other in the Red Keep, the sun casting a dull haze over the court. You could feel the weight of your pregnancy pressing against your body, every step a reminder of the life you carried within you. The maesters had said it would still be weeks, but something inside told you otherwise. You sensed it in the way your belly tightened, the sharp twinges that had begun early in the morning.

It was Maegor’s presence that both comforted and unnerved you. He had been a dark storm ever since you were taken as his wife, fierce and relentless in his possession of you. His touch was often rough, claiming, but there were moments, brief as they were, where you saw something softer flicker in his eyes. But softness had no place in Maegor's world, not now, not when he held the Iron Throne in a grasp as unyielding as dragonsteel.

He was seated on the dais, the Blackfyre sword at his side, when the pains became unbearable. You could not stop the gasp that tore from your throat, sharp and urgent. Maegor’s head snapped toward you immediately, the room around you falling into a hush. His dark eyes narrowed in on you, assessing, as you pressed a hand to your belly.

“It is time,” you whispered, breathless, and the realization hit you both at once.

The maesters scrambled to their feet, rushing to assist you, but Maegor rose faster, his steps heavy and purposeful as he closed the distance between you. He dismissed the maesters with a growl, sweeping you into his arms. His grip was fierce, but there was an underlying protectiveness you had rarely seen in him before.

“Visenya,” Maegor barked, his voice carrying through the hall.

The queen dowager appeared as if summoned by the very gods themselves, her face calm but her eyes sharp. She had always been an imposing figure, her silent strength a constant presence in Maegor’s life. She regarded you with a knowing look as Maegor carried you toward your chambers, her hands deftly organizing the chaos around her.

Once inside the room, Maegor set you down carefully, though his hands lingered on your arms, his gaze intense. He didn’t say a word, but you could feel the command in his posture. You would survive this, for him, for the child you carried.

Visenya took charge with an efficiency that belied her age, directing the midwives and maesters with curt nods and gestures. Maegor, however, refused to leave your side. His hand found yours, gripping tightly as the labor began in earnest. He watched with a burning intensity as each contraction wracked your body, his jaw set as though he could command the pain to cease by sheer will alone.

Hours passed, the agony becoming nearly unbearable, but you could feel the moment drawing closer. Maegor's face never wavered, though you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes darkened with each scream that left your lips.

Then, suddenly, it happened. The first babe emerged, a healthy, wailing boy. The midwife handed the squirming child to Maegor, and for a moment, he simply stared, his face a mixture of disbelief and pride. His firstborn son.

“Your heir,” Visenya whispered, a rare softness in her voice as she looked upon the boy.

But before the moment could settle, another wave of pain crashed through you. The midwives rushed back into position, their hands working swiftly, and then, just as swiftly as the first, a second child came forth—a girl, strong and full of life.

“Twins,” one of the maesters muttered, astonished.

Maegor was silent, but the weight of the moment pressed down on the room. He held his son in one arm and, when the midwives offered, took his daughter in the other. His face, hard as stone and as fierce as the dragon he was, betrayed nothing at first. Then, slowly, a rare, dangerous smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Two,” he said, his voice low, reverberating with something primal. “Two strong babes.”

Visenya’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she looked between you and the twins. “It seems the gods favor you after all, Maegor,” she remarked, though there was a glint in her eye that spoke of more than just familial pride. She approached, inspecting the babes as if they were her own creations, her approval unspoken but seen.

You, exhausted beyond measure, watched through bleary eyes as Maegor gazed upon his children, the weight of what had happened finally settling over him. He turned his attention to you, his expression unreadable, but there was something new in his gaze—a fierce possessiveness, yes, but also a deeper, quieter pride.

“You have given me a dynasty,” he murmured, low enough for only you to hear. “You will be remembered as the mother of dragons.”

And in that moment, you knew—whatever fears you had before, whatever doubts—Maegor had truly claimed you, not just as his wife, but as the mother of his legacy. The realm might tremble under his rule, but here, in this room, Maegor Targaryen had found something he valued even more than power.

His family.

[bookwormjust]

Imagine: An Accident at Dinner with the Inner Circle

Dinner with the Inner Circle was always an event to look forward to—filled with laughter, shared stories, and the warmth of being surrounded by those who had become family. Tonight was no different. The grand dining room of the House of Wind was bathed in the golden glow of candlelight, the long table adorned with an array of dishes that would make any chef proud.

Azriel sat beside you, as he always did, his presence a steady, comforting anchor amidst the lively chatter. His hand rested on your knee under the table, a quiet but constant reminder of the bond you shared. You were mid-conversation with Mor, who was animatedly recounting a tale of her latest shopping spree, complete with exaggerated gestures and laughter.

Across the table, Feyre and Rhysand were locked in a mock argument about who had won their latest training session, while Cassian was trying to convince Amren to try a new dessert. It was a scene of perfect, chaotic harmony—each voice, each laugh, blending into a symphony of camaraderie.

Feyre stood up with a smile, reaching for a large, steaming pot of soup from the center of the table. “Alright, who’s ready for seconds?” she asked, lifting the pot with one hand while balancing her plate in the other. But in her enthusiasm, she misjudged the angle, and the pot slipped from her grasp.

Everything seemed to slow down in that moment. You watched as the pot wobbled, tipping dangerously, and then—before anyone could react—it tumbled forward, the steaming contents splashing across the table. Hot soup splattered everywhere, cascading over plates, cutlery, and worst of all—over you.

The shock of the searing liquid against your skin made you gasp, instinctively jerking back in your chair. The heat was overwhelming, a burning sensation spreading from your lap down to your legs. You could hear the sharp intake of breath from everyone around the table, and Feyre’s horrified gasp as she realized what had happened.

“Y/N!” Feyre’s voice was filled with panic and regret as she reached out, but Azriel was already moving.

Before you could fully register the pain, Azriel was there, his shadows swirling in a frenzy around him. He pulled you to your feet, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and fear that you had rarely seen in him. His hands, those scarred hands that had seen so much pain, moved quickly as he tried to brush the hot soup off your clothes, his touch gentle but hurried.

“Az—” you started, trying to calm him, but his expression stopped you short. There was something deeper there, a shadow of past trauma that flickered in his gaze as he took in the redness spreading across your skin.

His grip tightened slightly, and you felt the tension in his muscles as he fought to control his emotions. You could see the anger simmering beneath the surface—not at you, not even really at Feyre, but at the situation, at the memories it stirred. Azriel’s own burns, the scars that marked his hands, were a constant reminder of pain he had endured alone, and seeing you hurt, even in this small way, pulled those memories to the forefront.

“Feyre, get some cold water!” Rhysand’s voice cut through the tension, his tone commanding but calm. Feyre nodded quickly, rushing to grab a pitcher of cold water from the side table, her face pale with worry.

Azriel guided you away from the table, his movements swift but careful. “We need to cool it down,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, as he took the pitcher from Feyre’s trembling hands and gently poured the water over your lap, trying to soothe the burn.

You winced at the initial contact but nodded, placing your hand over Azriel’s to steady him. “I’m okay,” you said softly, trying to reassure him, but his eyes remained fixed on you, his expression a storm of guilt and fury.

“You shouldn’t have to be hurt,” he whispered, his voice low and tight. “Not like this.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling the tension in his grip, the way his shadows seemed to pulse erratically around him. “Az, it’s okay,” you murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek, trying to pull him back to the present, to remind him that you were here, with him. “I’m okay.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might lose control—the shadows around him darkening, twisting in response to his turmoil. But he took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly as he leaned into your touch. Slowly, the storm in his gaze began to subside, the frantic edge fading as he focused on you.

The rest of the Inner Circle hovered nearby, concern etched on their faces. Cassian stepped forward, his voice gentle as he said, “Feyre didn’t mean it, Az. It was an accident.”

Feyre, standing a few steps away, looked on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean to—”

You offered her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay, Feyre. Really. Just a little hot soup.”

Azriel’s grip on your hand finally loosened, his posture relaxing as he took another deep breath. He glanced at Feyre, his expression softening as he nodded. “It’s alright,” he said, his voice still a little rough around the edges but calmer. “I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

Mor appeared at your side with a cool cloth, gently pressing it to the reddened area on your leg. “Here, this should help,” she said softly, her eyes flicking between you and Azriel with a worried frown.

“Thanks, Mor,” you said, grateful for the cool relief against your skin. You looked up at Azriel, who was still watching you with an intensity that made your heart ache. You reached for him again, pulling him closer so that your foreheads touched, a silent promise between you.

“I’m right here,” you whispered. “And I’m fine. We’re fine.”

Azriel’s eyes closed for a moment as he leaned into you, his breath evening out as he steadied himself. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I just… I can’t stand seeing you hurt.”

You nodded, understanding more than words could express. You knew the scars he carried, both seen and unseen, and how fiercely he protected those he loved—how fiercely he protected you.

Rhysand cleared his throat softly, his voice gentle as he broke the quiet. “Let’s take a break, give everyone a moment to breathe.” He glanced at Feyre, who nodded, still looking a bit shaken.

Azriel helped you to a nearby chair, his hand never leaving yours as he sat beside you. His shadows, usually so composed, still swirled restlessly around his feet, betraying the lingering tension in his mind.

You squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “I love you,” you said softly, your voice steady and full of certainty. “And nothing’s going to change that. Not a little soup, not anything.”

Azriel’s expression softened, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile. “I love you too,” he replied, his voice low but filled with the quiet strength that always made you feel safe. “More than anything.”

As the others began to regroup, offering more apologies and making sure you were comfortable, Azriel stayed by your side, his touch constant and reassuring. And as the evening slowly returned to its usual rhythm, you knew that no matter what happened, you and Azriel would always face it together—scars, shadows, and all.

[drvscarlett]

About You Series Masterlist

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

Part 01:

Two strangers that seems to be drawn with each other aka the humble beginnings of Y/N Webber and Sebastian Vettel.

Part 02:

Its the first year that Sebastian moved to Red Bull, what could go wrong?

Part 03:

The one where Jenson Button is a shit stirrer.

Part 04:

Tensions on track and tensions off track are escalating one by one. Which one of them would be the first to crack?

Part 05:

It is clear that the Red Bull garage is picking a side between the two drivers but everyone's wondering what Y/N is up to.

Part 06:

Sebastian Vettel's first championships and a series of events that happened before that.

Part 07:

Mick and Jenson is ready to protect her all the time but Sebastian is willing to commit war crimes on track for her.

Part 08:

A turbulent family relationship that causes Sebastian to keep his feelings hidden (for the mean time).

Part 09:

A little perspective about the thoughts of other people when it comes to their slowburn relationship.

Part 10:

its been a long time coming. lets enjoy the calm before the storm.

Part 10.5

The storm has arrived in the form of Multi21

Part 11:

Sometimes we make mistakes and we can say sorry. Most of the times, mistakes cannot simply be corrected by an apology.

Part 12:

selfless decisions and selfish decisions makes everything peaceful or complicated?

Part 13:

sometimes we have just to enjoy and live the moments we are in right now. we never know what will happen next.

Part 14

should we talk about things or should we leave things as it is, aka the consequences of the truth

Part 15

break-ups happen everyday you don't have to lose it. can anybody move on from this?

Part 16

and i promise to be there with you through good or bad or as long as you'll have me around.

Part 17

can anybody please change the prophecy?

Part 18

Say your goodbyes now. Its really going to hurt to love someone.

Part 19

A love lost yet still felt is a kind of love that is one of a kind.

Part 20

how long could you wait for me? are you still ready to welcome me back?

Part 21

Closing the chapters

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 6)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

One Year Earlier…

The car door opened just a crack, an attempt to keep the torrential rain from getting on the nice leather interior. Your mother struggled to enter the front seat without bringing the elements with her.

“Just get in,” Ward encouraged. “It’s fine.”

“I don’t want to get an invoice for detailing,” she explained.

“What kind of person do you think I am?”

She gave him a knowing look, now fully inside the car and safe from the storm.

“I don’t think you want me to answer that,” your mother said.

The windshield wipers squeaked against the glass as they swished rapidly. Your mother folded her hands in her lap as she took in the luxurious vehicle with judgment. Ward picked up on her distaste, but simply chuckled and shook his head. He had given up any attempt on getting her to like him back when they were in high school together. She had always thought him a showman, putting on a display she wasn’t interested in watching. He may have the rest of the island fooled, but she saw straight through him.

She flinched as he reached across her, calming when she realized he was only opening the glovebox. He pulled out a stack of envelopes held together with a thick rubber band. He dropped them in her lap unceremoniously, right on top of her folded hands. She didn’t pick the stack up right away, looking down at the one on top with a deep sigh.

“How many?” She asked.

“Seventeen,” he placed his hands on the wheel as if he was bracing himself. “They’re still coming once a week, like clockwork.”

“Have you read them?” She mumbled, still staring down, her eyes running over the handwriting, a prominent frown on her face as she studied the familiar little curve at the top of each letter “a”.

Ward’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, as they arrived at the conversation he was waiting for. “No, I haven’t, and neither should you. No good would come of that.”

Faint tears began to form at the crinkled edges of her eyes. The moment she felt them she pushed them away, sitting up straight and shoving the stack of letters into her purse. 

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, clutching her purse firmly to her lap.

Ward sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t sure how many more times he could have this conversation before losing his cool completely.

“We did what we had to,” he reminded her. “Look, I don’t like it either. But it was what’s best for both of them. And it’s too late now. We need to move forward. They will, too…eventually. Trust me.”

She looked him square in the face as she grabbed the door handle, preparing herself for the mad dash back to her own car across the vacant parking lot.

“I will never trust you, Ward,” she swore.

With that, she opened the door. She had one leg out, ready to hop down from the truck bed, when he grabbed her arm aggressively, making her gasp.

“Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” he warned through gritted teeth.

“I already have.”

Now…

Rafe looked up at you nervously, his eyes running up and down your face, looking for any reaction. He was on one knee in front of you, holding up the promise ring you were sure you’d never see again. The sight was so surreal you didn’t know how to react.

You were slowly coming back to earth after the heavenly feeling of being intimate with Rafe again. All of the emotion that had clouded your mind was clearing and the events of the past few days came back into view. Rafe spitting on the waiter he’d thrown in the dirt. The disgust on his face when you’d first said his name on the beach at the island club. The way he had pushed himself off of you just a few hours ago before sending you running out the door crying. The man who was kneeling in front of you right now was not the boy who had first presented you with this ring over two years ago.

But still, he had the same desperate vulnerability in his eyes now as he’d had then. That day you had thought surely the next time he presented you with a ring, it would have a diamond on it and he’d be asking you to marry him.

The image of you in a white dress, Rafe waiting for you expectantly at the end of the aisle, flashed across your mind. Suddenly, it wasn’t you in the white dress you saw, but your mother. Your eyes widened and you snapped back to the moment, realizing that your mom’s rehearsal dinner was tonight and you had told her you would make it. She said she didn’t want you to, but she always said things she didn’t mean, and this might be your last chance to fix things with her.

“What time is it?” You blurted out.

Rafe blinked back at you in surprise. He had prepared for either a rejection or an embrace, not to give you the time.

“I…uh, what?” 

“I left my phone at your house,” you explained. “Do you know what time it is?”

Rafe reached into his pocket with the hand that wasn’t holding the ring and checked his phone.

“It’s four,” he informed you.

“Shit,” you walked around him and headed towards the door of the lifeguard tower. “I have to go!”

Rafe stood, shoving the ring back in his pocket. “What? Why?”

He followed you out the door of the small office. Once you were on the porch of the tower, you looked around quickly for any sign of the beach patrol you had been dodging, but the coast was clear. You turned back to him, blushing slightly at the sight of him hurrying to buckle his belt.

“It’s my mom’s rehearsal dinner,” you told him. “I need to get ready, I don’t even have anything to wear. Shit!” 

You descended the steps of the tower quickly, side stepping the rotted spots in the wood. Rafe followed you down, catching up with you at the bottom and rounding you so he was blocking your path to the beach’s exit.

“You’re still going?” He asked, his tone a swirl of anger and hurt.

You blinked back at him, feeling like the answer was obvious.

“Yes? It’s my mom, Rafe,” you said defensively.

“Didn’t she kick you out?” He questioned.

“Kind of. I mean not technically…it’s complicated, Rafe. You know how she is,” you struggled to explain. 

Rafe rolled his eyes slightly before looking over your shoulder, nodding.

“Fine,” he said. “C’mon, you can come get ready at my place. You can borrow something from Sarah.”

“Thank you,” you said, relieved that his frustration hadn’t escalated any further. 

You rode back to Tannyhill on the back of his bike, wearing his helmet, relieved that your identity was shielded from the nosy looks from his neighbors as you passed. You wondered how many girls they’d seen Rafe bring back to the house on his bike over the last two years. Your stomach twisted at the thought and you subconsciously squeezed him tighter, your arms around his abdomen.

You followed Rafe into the house wordlessly, nervously picking at the skin around your fingernails, wondering what had suddenly made him go so quiet. Once inside the door, Rafe dropped his keys on the table in the foyer and walked toward the kitchen. You stood there for a moment, taking in the house. You ran your hand along the back of the couch, Rose had gotten a new one, and you hated that anything had changed, even something so small. 

After a few minutes, when Rafe still hadn’t come back from the kitchen, you took it upon yourself to walk up to Sarah’s room, searching through her expansive closet for something to wear. You settled on a short black dress with spaghetti straps. It’s certainly not something your mother would have picked for you to wear, but showing up underdressed was better than not showing up at all, right?

Rafe skulked in the kitchen for a while, slowly twirling the glass of bourbon he’d poured himself, but not taking a sip. He couldn’t believe you were still going to your mother’s rehearsal dinner. He had been naive, thinking that your mother kicking you out and the moment you’d shared in the lifeguard tower had finally sealed your return to him. Maybe you would never fully be his, maybe he would spend forever fighting to be first in your life. He hadn’t fought enough before, he should’ve gone after you, should’ve tracked you down. He threw back the bourbon in the glass and slammed it onto the counter with a sense of purpose.

As you leaned closer to the mirror to apply some mascara you found in Sarah’s bathroom, Rafe appeared in the reflection behind you. He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms, watching you. Once you had finished applying the makeup, you stood and met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. You offered him a small smile, but his face remained still as solemn eyes held your gaze. Your smile faded when you felt the intensity of his look. You stood there for what felt like hours, just looking at each other. A look full of history, of unspoken words. The more you looked at him, the quieter the noise in your head became. All of the questions, the worry, the mystery faded and all that was left was him.

After a while, Rafe dropped his crossed arms and stood up straight, now folding his hands behind his back, emphasizing his firm chest under his t-shirt. He began walking toward you slowly, still not dropping his eyes from yours in the mirror. Goosebumps rose on your skin and your heart rate spiked, but you didn’t dare look away.

Once behind you, his chest less than an inch from your back, he dipped his head low and placed the softest kiss on your shoulder. The gesture was so tender, watery tears pricked the corner of your eyes. The brush of your soft skin against his lips undid him, and now it was him who was sniffing you, nose nuzzled into your temple, inhaling the scent he had craved so desperately for years. The glory of you invading his senses undid him and he had to place his hands on your waist to steady himself.

You leaned back into him as one of his arms snaked around you, his hand flattening against your stomach. He began peppering kisses up and down your neck, and you let your head drop back to lean into him. His other hand slowly crept up your torso until it rested over one of your breasts. It wasn’t crass or harsh, nothing like the way he fondled you on the couch just this morning. His touch was revervent, the way you hold something you lost and thought you would never find. 

You watched the embrace in the mirror and he continued dragging his lips over your skin. He was wrapped around you like a snake, completely enfolding you. Your eyes lingered on his arms, enchanted by the sight of his large, veiny hands on your body. Those hands that you knew so well, even after all this time, you could pick them out of any lineup. You never managed to unlearn him. You’d know him forever, even if you never saw him again. Your heart swelled with emotion at the thought.

The sensation of Rafe nipping at your earlobe pulled you from your thoughts and your knees went weak. You reached an arm up behind you and ran your hand over his shaved head, nails lightly scratching his scalp. 

“Thought you hated my hair,” he chuckled into your ear.

“It’s just different,” you breathed as he squeezed you under his hands just slightly. “You’re different.”

At this, he looked up and met your eyes in the mirror, his chin rested on your shoulder. He looked bashful.

“Bad different?” He asked, an edge of vulnerability in his voice.

“I haven’t decided yet,” you admitted honestly.

“What can I do to help you make up your mind?” He teased, easing some of the intensity of the moment. 

You smiled back at him in the mirror and he ate it up, heart soaring at his ability to change your mood with just his words. Maybe if he kept talking he could convince you to stay, to ditch your mom’s rehearsal dinner and never leave his side again. 

“I dunno,” you shrugged, challenging him with your eyes, hoping he would pick up on the hint that you want him to take control of the moment.

“Would this help?” He grips your breast tighter, making you gasp at the sweet pressure, 

“Mhm, I want more,” you closed your eyes and laid your head back full on his shoulder, surrendering to him.

He pulled the thin strap of your dress between his teeth, dragging it off slowly to reveal more of you. Once the strap has fallen fully down your arm, he licks a strip up your neck. When his warm tongue filled the shell of your ear, you sighed blissfully. When he pulled his mouth away and blew gentle air against the moisture he had just left, you fully swooned, swaying into him. 

He rocked with you and started rubbing his hand over your stomach, your hips, the curve of your ass.

“You want me to keep touching you like this?” He asked, genuine interest in your answer.

“Yes, I love it, Rafe,” you said. “I need you.”

“Tell me where you need me, baby,” he groaned into your ear, your eyes now squeezed shut so you could take in the perfect sound of his voice. 

“Everywhere,” you were losing your ability to stay engaged in the banter, the feeling of his hands too electrifying.

Rafe notices how you’re fading, and decides not to ask any more questions. The hand on your ass moved further down, to the hem of your dress. He ran the pads of his fingers over the soft, plush skin of your upper thigh. He lifted the hem up until he found the edge of your panties, hooking his thumb over the waistband and leaving it there for a moment. He kissed your jaw sloppily and started dipping the rest of his fingers under the thin fabric one at a time. 

You braced yourself on the edge of the sink with one hand, while the other slid down his forearm until you found his hand, guiding it to feel the wetness now dripping between your thighs.

The realization of how wet he made you mixed with the feeling of your silky cunt hit him like a truck. He groaned and pushed the hardness in his pants against your ass. Your other hand shot to the sink edge for stability as his hand took over, his fingers beginning to dance over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you moaned.

“This what you want?” He asked, his voice huskier than it had been a minute ago, as the feeling of your soft curves pushing against his erection sent shock waves through his body.

“Baby…” was all you could bring yourself to say.

“Missed hearing you call me that,” he confessed.

You opened your eyes to meet his, but saw that his were now clenched shut as he focused on making you feel good. In the reflection, you caught the clock on the wall, your mom’s rehearsal dinner was beginning soon.

“Rafe,” you tried to pull his attention.

“Y/n,” he moaned, misunderstanding your tone.

“No, Rafe,” you tapped his arm to get him to open his eyes. “I have to go, I’ll be late.”

Rafe shook his head. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He said it a bit harshly, his fear manifesting itself into anger as it so often did.

“But-” you started to protest, but were cut off when he sped up the movement of his fingers, pinching slightly and rolling your sensitive clit between his fingers. “Fuck!” You nearly yelled as your body jolted forward.

“That’s it, just let me finish what I started,” Rafe said, his thumb taking over circles on your clit while his first finger reached down to dip into you.

You tried to talk, tried to tell him how good it felt, but no words came from your open mouth. Your knuckles were white from your tight grip on the sink. You pushed back into Rafe, wanting to share the pleasure you were feeling with him, but he pulled his hips away from you.

“Nah, not right now,” he said. “I’m on the clock here, baby, I gotta focus.”

He plunged a second finger into you and curled them upward, finally hitting your favorite spot that he knew so well. He had spent so long memorizing how to unravel you, he couldn’t forget if he tried.

Soon enough, he succeeded, and you unraveled completely. Rafe watched with unblinking eyes as your orgasm had you bent over the sink, crying out his name. He pulled you toward him, holding you up, as he whispered reassurances into your ear.

“Rafe, I-“ you cried.

“I got you, baby,” he cooed. “I always got you.”

Finally, your breathing steadied and you came back to earth. You turned in his arms and his hands rested on your lower back. Stretching up on your tiptoes, you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a grateful kiss to his lips.

“You still my girl?” He asked earnestly.

“Always.” 

You said it without really thinking, and immediately wondered if you shouldn’t have. Rafe clearly couldn’t see the doubt on your face as his own was filled with relief and affection.

Just as he leaned forward to kiss you back, his phone dinged in his pocket. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the interruption and you giggled, delighted that he only wanted to be with you right now. He reluctantly checked the text.

“Your car is ready,” he explained.

“Oh, good!” you had honestly forgotten that your mom’s car was even gone, the morning feeling like a lifetime ago. 

“I’ll go get it for you,” he offered. “You might, uh, wanna redo your makeup.”

You turned quickly to look at your reflection in the mirror, the mascara you had just applied was smeared from the sweat Rafe had caused you to break.

“Oh my God,” you laughed. “I look like a racoon!”

“A cute one, though,” he said, planting a quick kiss to your cheek before exiting the room. 

You blushed at the simplicity of the moment, and the sweetness of the comment. For a moment, you let your mind drift into some delusional future where this is your home, and you are his girl, and none of the past two years happened. 

But they did happen. Your bubble burst and you were suddenly back in the real world. This isn’t your house, and there were so many obstacles in the path to the future you were still inexplicably clinging to. The biggest of them being that you weren’t sure you actually knew the man you just promised yourself to. The man who yells and fights and gets arrested. The man who managed to break your heart and stitch it back together in the span of a few hours.

The man who never answered any of your letters.

It started so innocently, you wandered down the spiral stairs to the floor Rafe’s room was on. You walked around his room with your arms crossed, taking in the familiarity of it. You opened his top dresser drawer, immediately closing it again, feeling strange about poking around. But you had to know.

You began rifling, opening every drawer and digging through it, not even bothering to set them back to the way they were when you were done. You told yourself you were just looking for the letters, curious if he had read them or kept them sealed, or even ripped them to shreds. But if you were being honest, this wasn’t just about the letters. Rafe still hadn’t given you the answers you were looking for, about what happened to his dad or how he ended up getting arrested. You were too scared to bring it up again, the whiplash of his mood swings today making you dizzy. You figured if you were going to get answers, you’d have to dig for them yourself.

You made it through Rafe’s room without finding anything significant. He had a few joints rolled up in his desk drawer, but there was nothing that satisfied your craving for understanding. 

You repeated your desperate actions in his bathroom, then Ward and Rose’s room, where it appeared Rafe had been sleeping, a mystery you’d solve another time. You made your way to Ward’s office, the room you were never allowed in when you were kids. You dug through the desk drawers, the filing cabinets, the old antique hutch - nothing. Then you remembered a time in high school when you and Rafe had snuck in here, needing to find some spare cash for concert tickets you had begged him for. Rafe had snuck into his dad’s safe, behind the painting on the wall. 

You slowly walked over to the painting, wondering if this was officially going too small. You didn’t remember the passcode to the safe, so maybe it was pointless, but something in you told you to try. You slowly pulled the painting from the wall, eyes widening at what you discovered behind it.

On one side, a gun. On the other, a pile of gold, diamonds, precious stones - a real life treasure chest. Apart, they could have many meanings. But next to each other, tucked away in a manner that was clearly not meant to be discovered, they told a story. You did not know how that story began, but you had the sinking feeling it hadn’t ended yet, that it was still unfolding, and that the moment you opened this door you had unwittingly become a character in it. 

Without really thinking, you reached out and picked up the gun. You were surprised at how cold it was against your skin. Your eyes widened when you realized how strange it was that you had even touched it, and you subconsciously held it further away from you, as if it was a cursed artifact. Something about the weight of it in your hands sent a chill down your spine. You were overcome with a sense of darkness, as though something sinister had entered the room. But when you lifted your gaze from the foreign sight of a gun in your hand, you found that the only thing that had entered the room was Rafe.

(Chapter 7)

a/n: she's aliiiive!!! I'm so sorry it's taken so long, life is crazy. I missed these two so much. If you're still here THANK YOU for sticking with me!!! I know this chapter is shorter than the others, but I had to get something posted and this is what I have. The rest of the story lives in my brain, alive and well and will be posted at some point I promise!! I think I have 3 or 4 chapters until I've told the full story.

[nathaslosthershit]

The Main Event (Multiple Pairings) Part 1

Can be read as a standalone but also (Part 8 in the Blind Items AU A/N: Its my nineteenth birthday 🥳 I wanted to write about adults being happy in different stages of their life because I am so scared of growing up and the thought of not being a teenager next year makes me nauseous. Enjoy! Each pairing has a Blind Items backstory which is linked at the start of their section (You don't have to read the backstory, though) Multiple (separate) Pairings: Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!reader, Oscar Piastri x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader, Lando Norris x reader, Lance Stroll x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader, Alexander Albon x reader Summary: A wedding between Logan Sargeant and the youngest Leclerc child means a very interesting guest list, in which all previous victims of the F1 Blind Items account are included.

Oscar Piastri

“Dude, how come you are more nervous about my own wedding than I am?” Logan asked.

Oscar rolled his eyes and scoffed, pretending what the American was saying was ridiculous, as he nervously picked at his nails, trying to hide his trembling hands. Logan just laughed at his friend's failed attempt at nonchalance.

“It’s just- I’m nervous about the media inserting themselves in the events today. I mean I don’t want to have my toddlers in the spotlight any more than they already are.” Oscar explained. After being forced to reveal his kids to the world before he nor his fiancée were ready, and after just a few interviews and racing events the kids attended, Oscar didn’t want to give the media much more for the time being.

“Wow, way to make my wedding about you.” Logan teased, trying to relieve the utter look of anxiety and despair on Oscar’s face. But the Mclaren driver just shot him an unamused glare. “Look, I have told you time and time again if you don’t want them as flower girls- or kids, I’d gladly make my brother frolick down the aisle throwing petals. As much as I love my honorary niece and nephew, nothing would make me happier than making Dalton do that.”

This finally got a laugh out of Oscar. “They have been practicing too much to do that, we would be in for a shit storm if you tried to take away their time to shine.” It had been a big thing in the Piastri household for the past few months. Every second of every day, Frances and Hudson had been asking their parents questions about what weddings were like, how they should walk down the aisle, and if they had to see uncle Logan kiss his wife (they were not amused by the idea of having to see that). Not to mention the hundreds of times they forced their parents to watch how they would walk down the aisle, asking what they thought and ignoring any criticisms given to them (they saw no reason as to why they shouldn’t be allowed to dance and sing while throwing petals). 

“Then calm down. If all goes well there won’t be any media there, I mean I think we have done a pretty good job at making sure no one outside the event knows about it. Plus, no offense but there are plenty of people with far more interesting stories and scandals than your family. The tabloids are bored with y’all now that there isn’t anything new to expose.” Maybe a harsh way of putting it, but it was true, there were plenty of Formula 1 couples who had been exposed by the media for various reasons in attendance today. 

“Right. Got to say, Logan, the guestlist is impressive. I mean could you imagine telling your 13 year old self that the Lewis Hamilton would be attending your wedding?” Oscar asked. Even after a few years racing against the guy, the shock from being around him never wore off. He just had that ‘greatest of all time’ energy.

“I can’t even take the credit for much of it though. It's the bride who brought all the biggest names.” Logan rolled his eyes playfully. It was true though, his wife-to-be had made friends with all the biggest names in the world and they weren’t half assed friendships either. She could make even the tiniest of acquaintances feel like longtime companionships. She could make everyone feel so unbelievably loved and cherished in such a short time.

God he couldn’t wait to marry her. 

Oscar laughed at the lovesick grin on his friend’s face. Usually he’d tease him, but he decided maybe he should just cut the man some slack on his wedding day. 

But the urge was too great he couldn’t let Logan go unteased, before he could do so though-

“Dad! Dad! Dad! Look, me and Fran match!” Oscar’s son, Hudson, ran into the room, his sister following after him.

The two seemed to light up in their soft blue outfits.

“Don’t you two look awesome!” Logan said from behind the twins, making them turn around. “You guys look better than me on my own wedding day.”

The toddlers shouted in excitement as they ran to their favorite honorary uncle (much to Lando’s chagrin. He fought hard for that title).

“You two ready to be the stars of the show? Throwing petals ain’t easy work.” He said as he crouched down to hug the toddlers.

Oscar rolled his eyes. Leave it to Logan to make his own children completely uninterested in him. Fortunately, someone who was actually interested in him entered the room after them. His wonderful fiancée.

“You look gorgeous, honey.” Oscar said awestruck.

“You saw me in this earlier.” She deadpanned. 

“Let a man compliment his fincée, will you?” Holding her close to him, kissing her deeply. It was only when the two weren’t cut off with toddler “ewws” and “stop grossss” that they looked back at their children, currently in a… dance competition with the groom. “Glad to see how much they care for us.” Oscar sighed, feeling childish jealousy. 

“Let him entertain them, he’ll get some more practice for when he has his own kids.”

“He’s too young, honey. He is about to get married, he doesn't need to think about that right now.” Oscar scoffed, feeling offended for his children that Logan would ever dethrone his honorary niece and nephew from being his favorite kids.

“Says the man who had two kids by 18 and has been engaged twice, but not married, by 23.” Honey amused.

He blushed at the reminder that their relationship had been done a bit… backwards.

“They already have an officiant and audience, maybe we can just jump in with the bride and groom, two birds with one stone.”

“Nope! I already have two Piastri’s taking the spotlight today, I don’t need more.” Logan said while both twins climbed all over him.

Charles Leclerc (And the Leclerc Co.)

Normally, hard launching your child was not something a bride would encourage on her wedding day, but as the youngest Leclerc child, Charles’ sister loved the drama. Hence why her nephew was making his debut to the public as the ring bearer. Only a month old, the media hadn’t gotten to meet the cutie as he was born right at the start of winter break. It brought tears to his eyes, how insistent his baby sister was on having her nephew involved in her wedding. It was already an emotional day for Charles, who felt like he was losing his first baby as he walked her down the aisle and sent her off into her future, but he truly couldn’t be happier.

And doing it with his son by his side just made it all the more memorable. 

“Honey?” Charles’ girlfriend called as she popped her head into the room he was getting ready in. In her arms was their newborn who, while still so small, broke everyone’s heart at how big he was getting. “Oh, my love, are you seriously crying again?” she asked as he tried to inconspicuously wipe away his tears.

Being reminded that he had just been crying only made him start to cry more.

“Charlie, you are more emotional than I was while pregnant. What is going on with you today?”

“It is stupid, I’m sorry. It's just- it was yesterday my sister was in my arms, having just been born, and now she is getting married and the American is taking her away.”

If there was one thing the Leclerc brothers loved to do, it was make fun of their soon to be brother-in-law. They truly did love Logan, but it was so easy to pick on him and he was far too polite to try anything with them yet. If you asked them, they would say they are just treating him like the brother he is, but they also just really love how much it pissed their sister off, who will certainly be defending him. 

“Oh, sweetheart, she isn’t going anywhere. They are still going to live in Monaco, and you race with her husband almost every weekend. If anything now that they are married you will see more of her.” 

It was true. Even if the Leclerc brothers had a strict ban on dating drivers, they had to admit that their sister had found a good partner in Logan. A man who was driving alongside Charles, had been on the same team as Arthur in the past, and knew just how important and difficult the sport was on family. 

Giving her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek after wiping his tears from his face, Charles’ partner went on to try and fix the mess of hair that her lover was currently fighting. 

The Leclerc’s had terrible bed heads, something that unfortunately had already been seen in the first grandson, even at just a month old his hair was thick and unmanageable. 

Fortunately, Charles had calmed down enough that he was no longer a complete mess when his brothers entered the room. If Charles knew anything about his brother’s (and his sister) it was that such tears would have led to him being teased for the rest of his life about it. 

“Have you seen her?” Charles asked Enzo, hoping for any indication on how their sister was doing, having been too busy setting up for the wedding and taking care of his son to check on the bride thoroughly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “When we tried to see her, Maman wouldn’t let us in.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Charles’ girlfriend asked, the same level of concern in her voice displayed accross Charles’ face. 

“No, no, the bride said she wanted to have a little moment with the four of us before the wedding, so she didn’t want us to see anything before.” Enzo explained. He had understood her sentiment, Arthur… not so much.

Letting out a breath at the confirmation that nothing was wrong, Charles sat quietly while he got his hair tamed, his brothers playing with their nephew in the back.

It was a sight that almost brought tears to Pascale’s eyes, but she had already cried so much and she knew she needed to save the rest of her tears for the ceremony. Her three boys, all in different stages of their lives, all dressed up and ready to support their baby sister on her big day. 

There was a sense of love and excitement in the air, reminding her of when her daughter had first been born, her older brothers hardly able to sit still while they waited in anticipation. Though everyone was calm now, having gotten most of their childish impatience out of their system, those feelings hadn’t changed. 

“Someone wants to see you all.” She spoke up, getting the attention of her boys. Charles’ girlfriend pressed a kiss to his cheek and took their son from his uncles, wanting to give the Leclerc siblings a moment alone. 

“My goodness, you look stunning.” She said to the bride as she walked through the doorway before leaving. This made all the brother’s perk up, losing the rest of their patience as they waited to see their baby sister.

The second she stepped into the room and tears welled up in everyone’s eyes, the Leclercs knew it was going to be a long day full of bittersweet melancholy, but also one so full of love.

Lando Norris

“Have I told you how wonderful you looked?” Lando asked, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand as he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

She rolled her eyes, “Only a thousand times since we got in the car. Not to mention when I was getting ready, when I was trying on dresses, or when I was simply speaking to you about what I was thinking of wearing.” She teased.

He knew it was overkill, but he also knew how stressed she was. Not about the wedding, she was excited to attend and celebrate, but of the fact she knew she’d finally be identified as Lando Norris’s “unremarkable” girlfriend the tabloids have talked about for a while. 

The media knew he was dating not a model, or heir to a fortune, or an influencer, but a “simple” teacher, one who had a private instagram account with hardly 100 people on it. They had seen what pictures Lando posted of her, maybe a few posted by friends, but they never showed her face. They didn’t even know her name.

Even though their words were harsh, even though it hurt they thought she was undeserving of him when they didn’t know her, the anonymity at least came with the sentiment that all their judgements came from one simple fact, that she was a teacher. Now, they would have more to criticize, more to know, and she hated the thought.

Despite the public not knowing about her though, she had still been able to become good friends with many of Lando’s. Had been present for many arguments between Logan and Lando as they defended their individual titles of being “the best honorary uncle” to the Piastri twins and had been there to help watch the toddlers so Oscar’s fiancée could get a bit of a break during races. 

She loved so many of the people there, and she knew they all had her back. Because of this, she felt more ready to face the music. She shouldn’t be ashamed of who she was, she loved everything about her life, and she wouldn’t be made to feel bad for loving Lando. 

In the end, it was what the two of them thought and felt about their relationship that mattered. 

Lando smiled as he watched her take a deep breath, ready for what was to come. He’d move heaven and the earth for her, and he for sure wasn’t going to let some idiots online ruin something so good.

Lance Stroll

“You must have the worst heartburn, huh?” A mutual friend of a friend, Marie, asked.

“Oh, well actually-”

“Ugh it was so bad! And the indigestion, that really sucked. Oh! Reminds me of this one awful stretch of time when I was pregnant. I was actually also at a wedding…” Marie started on a tangent about some pregnancy horror story. One the currently pregnant woman she was talking to, didn’t appreciate hearing at the moment.

Lance looked over at his wife, stuck in conversation looking pained. Fearing that something was wrong with her or the baby, he quickly made his way over with an excuse to whisk her away.

“Are you alright?” He asked once out of earshot of Marie. 

His wife opened her mouth to answer, but was unable to when a choked sound made its way out first. The sound attracted the eyes of several wedding guests, who upon seeing that she was pregnant, turned back to their conversations, finding that as the excuse for such an outburst. While she was embarrassed when all eyes turned to her, the lack of interest in her wellbeing after seeing her belly just made her start to sob even more.

Knowing his wife was in distress and clearly the crowded room was adding to the discomfort, Lance led her to an unoccupied hallway. 

“Come on, hun. How can I make this better?” Sweetness, with a bit of helplessness, in his tone.

“You-you can’t!” She cried. God, how was she ever supposed to explain what the hell was happening with her. Especially when each second, she felt differently.

Maybe that was the problem. 

 “I’m- I am so tired of being the pregnant lady.” She managed to get out.

Lance frowned at the confession. “I know, love. I can’t imagine what it's like to be pregnant, and I wish I could help. I know it sucks, but you can get through-”

“Stop! That's the problem. Every single issue I have is written off as something that just happens with pregnancy. Like they are just side effects that can’t be helped! Like I just need to deal with them alone because “I signed up for this”. Maybe it sounds stupid or childish but I don’t give a fuck anymore, Lance. I don’t want to be treated like some pregnant lady, I don't want to be treated as if every single emotion I have is just because of hormones or because all women are just expected to suffer through this! Marie just came up to me and started talking about her own horror stories from when she was pregnant! I don’t want to hear that, not when she isn’t giving actual advice, just trying to laugh about things I, as the currently pregnant person, don’t find funny! I don’t want to talk about how I am so hungry and have people laugh and say ‘oh that's just what happens’. I want to get food! I want to be able to be upset without people losing interest the second they realize it's just the pregnant lady crying. I want the things I'm going through to be taken seriously, Lance.”

A beat of silence as he took in her words. 

As the silence stretched on though, she found herself with an apology forming on the tip of her tongue, feeling bad for yelling at her husband during her tangent when, even if he had contributed to the problem, he didn’t really do anything wrong. 

Just as she opened her mouth though, he got on his phone. 

She started to not feel as bad as she watched her husband seemingly ignore all she said.

“Are you-” She began, just to be cut off by him putting his phone in his pocket, and kissing her deeply.

Most of her anger seemed to disappear at that moment. He hadn’t kissed her like that in what felt like forever. Since she had told him she had been pregnant, he had been unsure of how to go about doing… well, anything. 

After a few passionately blissful seconds, he pulled away, still holding her face between his hands and stroking her cheek with his thumbs. “I ordered a car to take us to a crappy fast food place.”

She stammered, “What do- why?”

“You said you are hungry, the ceremony hasn’t even begun yet, we are going to be here for a while before we can eat and while I’m sure the bride and groom have an amazing set up, there isn’t a point in making you suffer any longer when we can fix it.” he explained.

She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to agree, but she also wanted to support their friends and knew she probably shouldn’t skip out on their wedding day. But she really needed something to eat and her feet were killing her already- 

“No, Lance, we shouldn’t it- it would be rude.” She answered.

Lance laughed at her attempt at trying to convince both herself and him. “As much as I’d love to stay, I’d much rather watch you eat a disgusting amount of fast food in an impressively short amount of time all the while dressed to the nines. Plus, we both know the bride and groom would be understanding.” He said as he grabbed her purse and opened the door for her. “After you, my love.” 

She sighed, realizing he was right. 

“Oh how gentlemanly of you,” she teased in a posh accent. “Is it often you whisk away distressed damsels to fast food restaurants?” 

“Only the gorgeous ones. I did earn my nickname of Sir Lancelot from my wife for a reason.” He teased back.

“It seems you have.” She replied with a kiss on the cheek.

Lewis Hamilton

“Oh, sweet pea. You look stunning!” Lewis said as he facetimed his daughter, currently at home with her mom.

The young girl giggled at the compliment, asking her dad about the wedding. She had been more than curious about weddings lately after hearing that her dad was attending one. 

“-and the bride wears a beautiful white dress”

“Like the one mommy is wearing?” she asked her dad, pointing to the oversized t-shirt her mom was wearing with paint stains on it from when she and her partner had painted the nursery for the 1 year old currently asleep in said room. Lewis laughed at the image.

“While I am sure your mommy could wear that and still be the most beautiful girl in the world. A wedding dress is a little… different.” Lewis answered.

“Mommy! Can I see your wedding dress?” her daughter asked.

Both parents froze at the question, realizing they might have not told their child a pretty important detail about her parents. 

“Oh- honey. Daddy and I never got married.” She answered. Her daughter looked back at the phone, at her dad, confused.

“Dad? Why didn’t you marry mommy? Don’t you love her?” 

Harsh. Lewis didn’t know how to answer such a question, but he eventually found the words. 

“Sweetheart, you know I love your mom very much. You are all my most favorite girls. Some people just don’t get married, they don’t feel the need to.” He answered. It wasn’t that the two of them didn’t want to, they had planned on it. But their first daughter had been unplanned, then their second had been too, and eventually, as they became everything to one another, they didn’t have a wedding so high on their priority list, knowing the proof of their love was evident in the two girls they were raising, in the life they had built together despite many unwanted opinions trying to ruin it. 

“Let me talk to your dad sweetie. Can you grab my water from the living room?” His girlfriend asked as her daughter handed her the phone and jumped off the bed.

After the sound of the young girl’s footsteps softened in the background, she spoke up, “Sorry about that, Lew, she saw a photo of some celebrity wedding today and her interest in the topic was reignited.”

“She is a curious kid, I get it. She is a smart one too, she gets it from her mother.” He watched his girlfriend blush at the compliment. Even while tired having to take care of the two young children alone, she seemed to be glowing. “We never did get around to marriage, did we?” 

She sighed, “I guess we got too busy. I hadn’t even thought about it in a while- not that I don’t want to marry you still!”

He laughed at her realization she may have chosen her words wrong, “No, I haven’t either. Two kids is a lot, and we both know how we feel about each other. But I will always be ready to marry you, the second you say so.”

“Well, I’ll always be ready to marry you, after you properly propose. You already got two kids out of me, I at least deserve a big flashy ring.” She teased.

“And you shall have it my love.” Lewis suddenly heard his daughter coming back. He spoke up when he saw her pop back up on screen, “What do you think, love bug? Should mommy and daddy get married? I think your mom would look beautiful in a big white dress, right?”

The little girl perked up at that, “Yes! But, will it be hard for mommy to wear a dress with the baby in her tummy?” She asked, pointing to her mom’s stomach.

Both adults froze. 

Slowly, Lewis’ girlfriend let out a deep sigh. “Baby, I told you not to talk about that with daddy till we could tell him…”

If his eyes opened any wider, they would have popped out of his head. “She’s serious? We are having another baby?”

“Surprise? I wanted to keep it a secret till you came back and make it all special but she was so sad when you left I told her to cheer her up.”

Lewis’ heart softened at the thought, “Well, I guess a wedding might have to be postponed for the time being” He amused.

They’d get around to it, maybe after this next kid, maybe after the next few.

Alexander Albon

Things had been… awkward for Alex and his girlfriend the past few days. After what started off as an innocent inquiry from a friend about the couple's plans for marriage in conjunction with Alex’s attending the wedding of his teammate, it seemed like there were some conversations the two needed to be having.

They had been together for years, longer than the current bride and groom had known each other. Longer than a lot of couples either engaged, married, or with kids had been dating. 

But there was still no ring.

It hadn’t been a problem before. They had talked about getting married, casually talked and joked about “when they had kids”. But those topics hadn’t been seriously considered for a while now. Like a hangnail that hurt every time it brushed against something, even though it would be so much better to just rip it off quickly and let it heal, neither Alex nor his girlfriend seemed to be able to broach the subject. 

They sat silently in the car, driving to the venue, painfully aware of what the other was thinking about. 

Did Alex not want to marry her? After so many years, maybe he just has never seen marriage as something he needed, plenty of couples decide not to get married. But wouldn’t he tell her if he didn’t want to ever be married, instead of letting her wait and wait and wait? Especially when he knew she wanted to get married- did he even know she wanted to get married? Did she even know if she wanted to get married? They lived together, their lives intertwined with one another, maybe they could just have a civil partnership. But that didn’t sound right in her mind. What if-

Her spiralling was interrupted when Alex turned on the radio, at full volume. Both wincing at the noise, he turned it down a little, letting the song fill the crisis filled air between the two. 

It helped a little, at least they could pretend they were both listening to the music instead of what they were actually doing, questioning their relationship. 

As the song ended, a radio talk show came on, one about elderly folks giving life advice. “Aw I love this, it always has sweet stories.” Alex said, trying to break the tension. 

“Here we have Violet with us! Now everyone, Violet got married for the first time about a year ago to her longtime partner, Vance. Both were 83 years old and had put it off for a long time, thinking they had been too old, but following a terminal diagnosis Vance was given, the two decided to go for it. Now a year later, Violet is here with her update. Violet, how are you doing today?” The host asked. The couple in the car stiffened, of course this is the topic. 

“I am doing well, thank you. Today is a special day, it would have been Vance’s 84th birthday, and I can say that while it is hard not to be with him, I have all my love for him and the love I knew he had for me to keep me going.”

“I am sorry to hear about his passing, Violet.” The host somberly said.

“Oh that is alright, I actually arranged to call back in because I recently received our wedding pictures, and looking at them reminded me I wanted to update the good folks that listen. While we knew Vance would pass soon after the wedding, I am so happy to have these photos to keep with me now that he is gone. We had written off marriage because we had both been ‘too old’ in our opinions. Neither of us had gotten married to our past partners before, so we didn’t feel the need now. While I don’t believe marriage is best for everyone, some folks just don’t need it, I can say for certain that being surrounded with family and loved ones as Vance and I celebrated our love, especially when we knew death would soon part us, I believe it was the greatest decision of my life. Vance knew I would be with him no matter how long he gave me, and that I would take on the grief if it meant I knew I truly loved and was loved. I really believed that comforted him in the end, and that alone comforts me. We were only married for about three months before he passed, but he will remain my husband till I eventually join him. And I couldn’t be happier for that.” Violet said, a mix of emotions filling her voice.

She turned off the radio before they could hear any more. 

Silence again filled the car- well apart from Alex’s sniffles. 

She turned to her boyfriend, who was driving while trying to wipe his tears without her seeing he was crying.

“Are- Alex are you okay?” she asked, concerned. 

“Yeah, no it's- yeah I'm good.” He unconvincingly replied. Suddenly, he slammed on the breaks, almost missing a stop sign, distracted by his tears. “Shit- I’m sorry I didn’t see-” 

She couldn't make out his words over the sobs. Fortunitally, he had enough of a sound mind to pull over before he could danger them more. 

Alex turned to his girlfriend abruptly, “I want to marry you. I want to marry you so badly and I know marriage has always been jokingly discussed between us, but I need to know you also want to marry me. I don’t want to wait till we are 83 and I am dying. I don’t want to wait another year, to be honest. So please just tell me if you aren’t-” She cut him off with a kiss, her own tears mixing with his. “Are you proposing?” She half-joke- half-sobbed. 

“Yes, fuck yes I am.” Instead of answering him, she just kissed him, again, just as passionately as the first. 

“We can’t tell Logan we got engaged the day of his wedding.”

Logan Sargeant

Bridesmaids on one side, Groomsmen on the other, the officiant and Logan in the middle.

Logan had memorized the order in which everything would go. He stood anxiously in front of a crowd of people, full of friends and family, as well as some of his idols since he was a child. People he still felt had no reason to even know his name, much less attend his wedding. 

Next came the Piastri twins with petals in their baskets. They took a few confident steps till they realized just how many people were looking at them. Then in an instant, the weeks of preparation for their big moment went out the window as they both stood there, frowns on their faces. Logan’s heart broke a little at how shy they had suddenly gotten.

Maybe he really should have had Dalton take their place. 

After a few moments the twins still didn’t move. Logan was about to make his way down the aisle to them, but his brother-in-law-to-be, Charles, stepped through the entrance to get to them, holding his newborn, who was acting as the ring-bearer despite being a month old and currently asleep. Charles crouched down between the two toddlers, whispering something no one else but the two of them heard, causing shocked but excited looks to replace the shy pouts. 

The toddlers each stood on the side of Charles and his sleeping child, throwing petals with renewed excitement. By the time they reached the end, Logan crouched down to give them each a hug, getting a kiss on the cheek and ‘good luck, Lo Lo’. Charles passed the rings to Dalton, the best man, and answered Logan’s questioning look with a quick explanation, “I told them my son was very nervous about walking down the aisle and I hoped they would walk with him. I also said you’d give them candy after.” 

Logan rolled his eyes, happy Charles had looked out for his honorary niece and nephew, but annoyed he now had to find candy for the toddlers unless he wanted a tantrum to end all tantrums at his reception dinner. 

The second the bride stepped down the aisle, her mom by her side, Logan forgot what he was worried about before. Suddenly, seeing his fiancé in her dress, glowing in a way that could only be explained by magic, Logan knew nothing in his life had ever felt so right. 

He had to stop himself from kissing her as she stood in front of him, only half listening to the officiant. He didn’t care about all the famous people in the crowd, didn’t care about how miserable he was at Williams, didn’t care about all the shit he got from fans, didn’t care about anything but the woman who was in front of him. 

In a flash, vows were exchanged, ‘I do’s were said, and he was kissing his wife and then running down the aisle. 

Everything was so good.

[earth4angels]

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

modern!benjicot blackwood x fem reader ─── p in v, car streamy hot smut, sexting, whipped, possessive benji. reader is jace's younger sister, jace is overprotective. benji has a foul mouth he is also in a band. summary: summer nights were always your favorite nights. the night young and filled with possibilities. your boyfriend was back from his gig tour, and you missed each other so much.

a/n: yea idc kieran is gonna stay my benji, hbo gotta get him back on set for season three.

benji nation tag list: @valdezthg @jacaerysgf @h-0-error @nikki-is-a-nerd @poppyflower-22 @housetargaryenloyalist @not-a-glad-gladiator

You lay on your stomach, your feet tapping in the air to the music blasting through your room. In front of you was a book, entranced in the letters of what lay before you, any noise other than your boyfriend's voice echoed through the room.

"How in the hell would she even want to take him back?" you mumbled angrily under your breath, upset the main character had forgiven her lover after he cheated. "Ugh worst book ever, never letting Aly recommend me books again!"

You swiped the book off your bed as you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. You tilted your hand slightly to the side and coming across the picture of you and your boyfriend, Benjicot, you smiled. The picture brings you memories, of that day which rained heavily, but Ben had thought it was a good idea to find a photobooth.

You reached out to grab the small photo that held four different pictures of both of you. Each picture changed but never did the smiles you both held, except for the last photo. You blushed recalling the events that took place.

You sat in front of Ben - on his lap, his hands cupping your breasts as your head was tilted back, his lips locked on yours. You clenched your thighs together at the hot sex you both had that day when you arrived at his apartment.

Ben was still touring; he was a member of a band that was now slowly reaching mainstream media. You were happy for him, hell, you even told him it was a long time coming. However, you missed your boyfriend, it was already three months and all you ever saw of him was through a screen.

The picture returned by your bed stand where you held a lot of polaroids of both of you as your door slightly opened, a head peeked out through the crack of the door. You rolled your eyes, a slight smile slipping onto your lips.

"Are you going to come downstairs to join us for a movie tonight or not?" Jacaerys eyes wandered over your room, wincing at the loud music blasting through the speakers.

"What movie?"

His eyes found yours again before he rolled his eyes in a way that said, 'you already know.' You snorted, "Right. Let me guess, Luke wanted to see Scream and the boys wanted to see Toy Story?"

Jacaerys walked into your room then, his steps soft, his eyes narrowing when he noticed the sad glint in your eyes. "Hey. You know that I love you right?"

You groaned rolling onto your stomach again, burying your face into the pillow, "Ugh Jace..."

He chuckled before he laid his head onto your back, his arms wrapping around your waist, "Just saying. But you can tell me anything okay? Don't keep things bottled inside, it's not good for you."

You peeked an eye open to see him already looking at you, Jace knew how to get you talking, and while you found it incredibly annoying, you knew without your older brother you would have lost your mind. He was the calm while you were the storm.

"I just miss Ben, that's all."

"Ah... well." Jacaerys cleared his throat, his fingers tapping a beat onto your back, it soothed you. "Have you spoken to him?"

"Um... not exactly. Well, I did but it was like two weeks ago, he's been busy touring. He's recently headlined sold-out shows."

Your brother hummed; you sat up noticing his silent demeanor.

"Jace."

He moved his head towards yours, he looked at your narrowed eyes, warning him not to jump to conclusions. He sighed, rising his hands in surrender.

"I know. I know. But can you blame me? I love you, and you're my younger sister -"

You cut him off with a jab, "One year younger, Jace."

He breathed through his nose, "One year younger, whatever. But you're my sister nevertheless, so I will always protect you and feel the need to look for harm before it comes. I know you trust him. However, I'm your brother. Boyfriends and brothers don't always clash well."

You moved your head to the side, avoiding the deep stare your brother was sending your way. He sighed, he moved his hand onto your open knee, "But, I'll trust your judgment, and if you love and trust him a lot, then I will respect that."

A smile reached your lips before you turned to face him again, “That’s all I’m asking.”

Jacaerys poked your forehead with his finger before he cocked his head to the side, “Now come downstairs and stop moping around. If Daemon sees you like this, he’s worse than I am.”

You scrambled to getting up, reaching towards your stereo to turn off the music before following your brother downstairs.

“By the way, his new music is good, I’m glad he’s finally getting the recognition he deserves,” Jace mumbled, while he side eyed you. You only bit your lips hiding the proud smile you had.

“Yup, that’s why he’s the best.”

Jace groaned, feeling grossed out, “Okay stop getting cocky, go grab the pizza from the counter while I grab the blankets.”

You saluted him playfully, “Your wish is my command your majesty.”

—

“And so, we kissed and practically made out in the science room, ugh it was so hot!” Aly rambled, her hands moving around as she explained her story to you.

You nodded, replying with a short ‘uh-huh.’ Mentally you were not present, you were focused in painting, your eyes dancing back and forth towards the colors and your drawing book.

“You’re not listening,” Aly said pouting at you. You said nothing, however you held a smile as you painted, bringing you a sense of comfort. “Y/n.”

The brush moved delicately, adding another layer of color, you started to see the vision come to life. You were so close to rendering the shape more before the brush was snatched out of your hands. You gasped, jumping at your bubble being popped.

Aly sat next to you with your brush in her hand, her eyes narrowed, “Welcome back Picasso.”

You struck a tongue out towards her, yanking back your brush before you dipped it back to your glass of paint water to avoid the bristles drying.

“Sorry Aly, I just wanted to finish so I can submit this to the art show next week.”

Aly ruffled your hair in affection, “You’re worse than Ben.”

You winced at the name of your boyfriend, the name bringing you longing. You missed him. As you thought of him, your phone pinged. Your lock screen holding a picture of you two at a orchestra concert, his hands wrapped around your waist and yours held his cheeks laughing. Your heart thumped with a pain you couldn’t describe.

“Has he.. spoke to you by any chance?”

“Um… not really. Two nights ago he called, it was very loud though, so I couldn’t understand him well. But, he mentioned the tour was being successful and he’s in talks to signing into a label!”

You widened your eyes, this news surprised you, “No way? You’re joking?”

Aly shook her head, “Nope, it’s what he said. He’s close to becoming an all time celebrity.”

Your heart soared with pride and love for him. You wished this to happen. You knew how much Ben worked to get his music heard, only playing at small gatherings. He made you so proud, you couldn’t help but laugh with joy.

“Hopefully he’s back soon though, he’s a little shit.” Aly mumbled again, leaning back onto the blanket you both had set up on the grass.

You hummed, still holding a smile. Your phone pinged again, you dreaded it being Jace asking you to come home already. Grabbing your phone, you were then met with a message from your rockstar of a boyfriend. Your heart jumped to your throat as your eyes widened.

“I love you.”

The beat of your heart felt so hard it thumped against your breasts, your hand twisted grabbing your shirt to attempt it to stop.

“Fuck. I miss you. I’ll be home soon baby. Wait for me a little longer.”

You let out a girly giggle as you typed your response quickly. You looked up then, an idea slipping through your head. Grabbing your phone, you scrambled to get up. Aly opened her eyes, a look full of curiosity.

“Aly, i’ll be back! I gotta use the bathroom.”

She only waved her hand, you blew her a kiss before running across the field, into the school grounds. A few people waved at you, you hurriedly waved back, small hellos slipping from your lips. You arrived to the restroom, opening up a stall. The restroom was quiet, thankfully nobody was there. Yet the sound of your heart was loud.

Your fingers shook with excitement, you opened your phone to Ben’s messages. Typing, your foot tapped with mischief.

“I miss you… I wish you were here. I miss you and those hands of yours.”

In a heartbeat, the next message came.

“Yeah? How much do you miss me darling?”

A shaky breath was all you exhaled, you were wearing a skirt with your boyfriend’s band t-shirt and a pair of sneakers Ben had gifted you the first christmas you spent together.

You sat at the toilet quietly, extending your hearing to check if anyone was there, when you got confirmation you propped your phone onto the toilet paper holder. You pressed record, not showing your face as you wanted to focus on the way your hands moved.

Slowly, your fingers trailed over your body to the bottom of your skirt where your fingers trailed down the black panties you owned. Slowly, you pulled them off. Making sure the camera focused on your lower half, you continued.

You wanted to make Ben heard the sounds of your breath quickening, the way your fingers trailed through the opening of your folds and the wet sounds that came from it. You thought of the last time Ben had touched you, it was quick but he made sure he dedicated all the time to you, not caring that his cock was hard and straining his jeans the whole night after that.

You pictured his fingers, the fingers that held metal rings that you currently owned one of them. The way his face buried into your neck as he bit onto your skin, whispering how he loved you and how he couldn’t wait to have you.

Your fingers worked quick as you thought of Ben. Your eyes were hooded, filled with tears from how over stimulated you were. You had two fingers inside, pumping them in and out, rubbing your sensitive bud with your other hand. It wasn’t until you thought of how Ben held you over the toilet sink, his tongue licking your throat as his hand cupped your jaw, his fingers deep inside your cunt - you squealed.

Your legs shook hard, the smooth runny liquid of your orgasm dripped down your fingers. You sat dazed, and with shaky fingers you pressed the stop button on your phone. You laughed breathlessly at what you had just done.

“I missed you this much, that I wish you were the one that did this instead.”

You hit reply as you attached the video onto the message. You giggled at the thought of having Benji bothered through his set. You stood up with shaky legs, cleaning up any evidence of what happened.

As you cleaned yourself by the mirror, grabbing your baseball hat to clip it around your head, a message pinged your phone. You quickly opened it, and what you saw left you bothered the entire day. Damn you Benjicot Blackwood.

“Soon, I’ll have you screaming my name darling. Just wait and see.”

Attached was a picture of Ben in what seemed in his tour bus, standing in front of a mirror stark naked, holding his cock in his hand, it was hard, wet, and my god it was big. You gulped, suddenly feeling like you needed water.

—

You sat at your family dinner table, books in front of you as you quietly did your studying. A plate of sliced fruit was placed in front of you, you looked up finding the warm eyes of your mother.

“Eat my sweet.”

“But mom…”

Rhaenyra flicked her fingers against your forehead slightly, you pouted, letting out a whine. She only smiled as she walked closer to you, placing a kiss onto your forehead.

“Eat. Don’t be Jace who forgets to eat when he’s studying as well.”

You rolled your eyes at the mention of your brother, “That’s because Jace is a overachiever. Dare I mention a teacher’s pe-“

“Ah ah, don’t be mean y/n. Your brother works hard yes, but he only strives to be the best and to be worthy of being my heir.”

Rhaenyra combed her fingers through your hair as she nagged you. Your head tilted towards her touch, loving when your mother babied you. You said nothing, only nodding your head. You heard her clear her throat suddenly.

You raised your head to look at her, “Mom?”

“I saw Benjicot on the news. He’s becoming quite big isn’t he?”

You moved your head away, avoiding her eyes and dreading of a conversation that happened once in a while. You didn’t blame them, but it was getting exhausting.

Dating the lead singer of a rock band wasn’t on their list, especially knowing he was gaining attention all over Westeros, he had the eyes of not only girls but the media. Your mother, loathed the media as she didn’t like what they whispered about you or your brothers.

You heard your mother breathed in before she grabbed your shoulders softly, “I don’t mind you dating him sweetheart. I just want you to be safe. If you believe he’s the one for you, he respects you, loves you? Don’t worry about what I think. I care about you at the end of the day. I only met the boy once and he was kind, honorable.”

Biting your lip you nodded, “I do trust him, and I understand where you and Jace come from.”

Your mother quirked a smirk, “Ah.. don’t worry about Jace. Secretly he approves but he needs to be a little… intimidating. He wouldn’t be an older brother if he wasn’t.”

You rolled your eyes, “He’s a pain in the ass.”

Your mother swatted your shoulder, “Language. He loves you, be a little compassionate. You will be the pain in Luke, Aegon or Viserys’ once they start bring girls over the house.”

The thought of having girls come over and the possibility of any heart break gave your heart a tug. “Ugh you’re right okay.”

Rhaenyra kissed your head again, gesturing to the plate of fruit, “Make sure you eat, and get to bed early okay? You have your exams in the morning.”

“I love you mom.”

She smiled, “And I love you darling.”

—-

“I am free! Worst experience of my life!” Aly exclaimed as both of you laughed, arms linked together, steps rushing out the door of the school’s grounds.

“Graduation is finally next week, we are going to go off for another 4 years of hell,” you reminded her as she whined

“Such a buzzkill, let’s just enjoy the fact that we are free and we got the summer to relax before we move in to our dorms and start orientation.”

You smiled, you slipped on your sunglasses, blocking the heat of the sun hurting your eyes. You glanced around looking at everyone rushing out the building with big smiles on their faces. However something catched your eye and you weren’t sure whether you wanted to throw up or you wanted to scream and run.

People started to squeal, and whisper between each other. You felt the eyes of people looking at you, Aly gasped.

Benjicot Blackwood, in full leather pants with only a white tank top on stood in front of campus, leaning against his vintage sports car, he seemed like he was talking on the phone, a cigarette hanging on the corner of his lips.

“Oh my god, he’s back and he never told me?” Aly exclaimed beside you, “Worst cousin in the world if i can say.”

You paid no attention to her as you got closer to the man that owned your entire heart. He continued to talk on the phone, his eyes scanning through the faces of people that began to circle him before he found yours.

He spoke something fast before he placed his phone into his front pocket, he tossed his cigarette onto the floor, his lips turning into an amused smile. You ignored the gossip as you continued to walk towards him, you saw how he licked his lips, his smile widening as he took you in.

“Hi my darling,” he said as you got closer, your heart beated fast. You let out a short laugh as you threw yourself into his open arms, he chuckled, holding you close, burying his head into your neck. “I’ve missed you baby.”

You let out a sigh of relief that you finally had him back, “I missed you Ben…”

He pulled away, his eyes twinkling with mischief that left you clenching your hands onto his shoulders. He leaned towards your lips, you met him in the middle being surrounded by the softness of his lips. You tried to memorize the smell, his touch, the scent of cologne mixed with the faint smell of his cigarette that he had just smoked.

He groaned into your mouth as you pulled the hair by his nape, “Careful darling, you’re touching hot territory.”

Tugging it more, you whispered into his lips, “I don’t care.”

He sucked in a breath, his hold tightening around your waist, “You’ll regret that baby.”

“Perhaps.”

His eyes screamed something you wish you understood, his mouth opened to retort something when Aly came forward pushing the crowd of people out of her way, “Nice for you to let me know you were coming douchebag”

Ben held a gaze on you, he licked his lower lip slowly, you felt the moisture gathering down there, you were afraid you might jump him here and there in front of all these people before he side eyed his cousin.

You sighed in relief when he put you down, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

He clicked his tongue, “I catched the first flight home. I missed my girl and I couldn’t miss the graduation either.”

You smiled, the blood rushing towards your cheeks. Aly rolled her eyes, “A notice would be nice asshole.”

He grinned a boyish smile, “Love you too Aly.”

Aly glanced around at the people that gathered, their phones out as they took photos of them. You saw the wrinkle on her forehead that only showed she was starting to get irritated.

“Alright shows over! Go home!” Aly screamed, her hands waving around at every word. You heard Ben snicker.

“I’ll take you home and pick you up later,” he told you.

You looked up at him finding him looking down at you, his hair falling down in nice waves onto his forehead. You reached out to push his hair back, smiling when he leaned towards your touch even more, “Where are we going?”

He placed a kiss onto the palm of your hand, “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

You moaned in annoyance. He grabbed your waist as you attempted to jump into the passenger seat, he leaned towards your ear, “Dress nicely, hm I’ll like to hear those moans loudly later.”

The entire car ride he had his hand on your thigh, you played with the rings on his fingers, finding every ring interesting as each ring was different than each other. You heard him speak to Aly, your mind wondering where he would take you later.

“Alright baby, we’re here.”

You leaned forward, finding the gates to the big entrance of your family’s home. Turning your head back towards Aly, “I’ll see you later Aly, text me if you want to go to the Riverlands, i’d love to go.”

Aly sent you a kiss, “I’ll text you, have a good night babe!”

Ben had already opened the door for you, his hand stretched out for you to take. You giggled when you held it as he pulled you out, leaning you back onto the door.

“Remember wear something nice,” he softly said it as his hands cupped your face pulling you towards him, his lips warm. You pressed against him harder, feeling him bite into your lip as a warning. You continued however, snaking your hands into his long black hair.

“Y/n”

You snapped your eyes open, pushing Ben away from you in a flash. Besides the car stood Jace, his hand holding little Aegon’s hand.

You saw the way Benji straightened his back, swallowing hard at the sight of your brothers. You nibbled onto your lip, fearing your brother would make a scene. None of you three said a word, until Ben held your hand softly, his throat clearing.

“Hello Jacaerys.”

Jace looked towards Ben, his eyes narrowed. You saw how his eyes moved up and down Ben’s figure, calculating, analyzing him, finding any wrong thing. He resorted to just giving a nod, “Congratulations on the sold out tour.”

Benji laughed, nodding in thankfulness, “Thank you. Um, I wanted to question you for a moment if that’s okay?”

Jace looked towards you who avoided his gaze as you focused on the shoes of your brother instead. “Oh? What about?”

“I wish to take out y/n tonight if that’s alright?”

He quirked an eyebrow, “Why are you asking me this?”

Ben only tightened the hold of your hand, “Because you care about her, and I only want to protect her as well. I plan to stay longer, and I truly love your sister, on contrary to what you think.”

He was silent, only looking between you both, analyzing. Aegon only played with his little dragon toy not caring of what was happening in front of him.

You begged him with your eyes to not ruin this for you, Jace only sighed. His shoulders dropping, “I appreciate it Benjicot-“

Benji interrupted him, “Ben or Benji. I hope to have a friendly relationship with the male my girlfriend looks up to and thinks highly of.”

You side eyed him in betrayal, you never wanted Jace to know how you thought of him. Your brother looked at you fast, his eyes widening but now filled with love towards you.

“Alright Ben. I hope we do have a civil nice relationship. Do bring her home safely. Call me if anything happens.”

Ben nodded, smiling in reassurance, “You got it.”

Jace looked at you again, his eyes screaming we will talk later, yet he walked away, Aegon jumping childishly after him.

Ben looked towards you again, his hand lifting yours before he placed a kiss on the front, “See you later baby.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re an ass.”

He smirked, his eyes twinkling, “Yeah? Well you’ll have no complaints later on.”

You groaned, pushing him away to follow the direction your brothers took. Behind you Benji was laughing hard, his hair flowing nicely through the wind.

—

Ben never told you where he was taking you so having no sense of occasion how to dress, you wore something casual. A corset shirt, with a mini skirt. You decided on a pair of ballet flats, your hair was straightened, a head band holding the front of your hair back.

Your phone pinged, a message from Benji announcing his arrival. You rushed to grab your essentials, shoving them into your purse as you sprayed your perfume. Your body tingling with nerves, it has been a while since you went on a date with your boyfriend. You missed him a lot, and it felt just like how you first met.

Luke was heading upstairs with a bowl of chips in his hands as you rushed downstairs. He looked at you in shock, “Woah…”

You stopped, stealing a chip from his bowl, he whined.

“If you see mom, tell her i’m out with Benji?”

His eyes widened, “Woah woah?! He’s here?! Please tell him to give me a free CD of his new record, it sold out before I got my hands on it!”

You groaned, rushing out the door, hearing Luke whining how he wants a free CD from his future brother in law. As you got outside you met the eyes of your boyfriend.

He stood with by the door of the passenger seat, his hand holding a cigarette, his hair was slicked back with only a loose strand of hair in front of his forehead.

You were glad you weren’t overdressed. He stood in an all denim outfit, you found it hard to control yourself as again all he wore was a tank-top. Shaking your head from any urging thoughts, you approached him.

His eyes shined, his lips stretched with a huge smile he was sporting as he laid eyes on you.

“Hi.”

“Hi to you darling, dare I say. You look delicious as fuck?”

You snorted, “I don’t know. Do I?” You spun in front of him in a twirl, enjoying the way he whistled, his dark eyes scanning you up and down.

“You look beautiful darling. Ready to go?”

You nodded your head as he took you into his arms, pecking you softly on the lips as he guided you to the passenger seat.

You didn’t know where you were headed, but whatever or wherever it was, Ben didn’t give you time to guess as he spent the entire car ride talking to you.

His hand never left your thigh, and while you felt comfort you just wished he would lift his fingers closer to your core that was burning with the thought of having him. You bit your lip hard, wanting your boyfriend to ravish you.

“Alright we’re here.”

You looked away from his face, confusion hitting you hard as you didn’t know where exactly here was. You looked back at Ben who only smiled. Deadpanned you asked, “Um.. where’s here?”

“Oh princess, you’re cute and funny.”

You stared at him confused. You scanned the area again with more detail, you gasped when you realized where you were. He had taken you to the highest point of Landing. The mountains where clouds were close to humans touch, where one said humans were closer to the gods due to the way stars felt so close and shined the brightest. You could see the sea from where you stood, the stars, the city’s life.

“Ben.. oh my god this is beautiful.”

You didn’t know he was looking at you with such dumbfounded love eyes, “Yeah. Really beautiful.”

You looked back at him, “Are we spending the whole night here? Sightseeing?”

He clicked his tongue, “Of course not. I bought us take out, we’re having a dinner, picnic style here.” He reached his hand in the backseat where he pulled out a basket, and a huge blanket, it looked soft. Your heart skipped the beat at the details he thought of.

He placed the basket softly onto your lap as he moved to open the door, your eyes followed him silently watching him grab things from the trunk to place them outside. And as you watched him move silently, for some reason you got nervous, jittery. It was like having a first date all over again, the butterflies flowing everywhere in your stomach.

You loved Benjicot, and nobody knew him like you did, no one will ever see this side of him, because the Benjicot they knew was a rockstar, a guy who jumped and sung his heart out on stage. A guy full with fury, with over excessive amount of energy but also with thoughts that were considered anxiety.

However the Benji you knew, the one who sent you flowers before he even introduced himself to you, the one who wrote a song about you which blew him into stardom, the one who would sneak into your room when he overthought another series of scenarios that hadn’t happened yet but he found comfort in your arms, that was the Ben that you knew and grew to fall in love with.

You snapped out of your thoughts as Ben opened the door for you, guiding you towards the picnic he had prepared, your heart soaring to your throat. He had prepped candles, a light holder that was used typically for camping, but he organized everything to the last detail, even going ahead to getting pillows, separate blankets if you were to get cold.

You placed the basket onto the floor as you moved towards the smiling Ben, who was currently feeling extremely satisfied, your hands pulled him down towards you, as you kissed him deeply.

He gasped into your mouth in surprise, holding you tightly against him. You placed two final kisses on his lips as you pulled back, leaving him leaning forward instinctively for more.

“I love you. I love this… thank you.”

He opened his eyes to gaze into yours, “Always.”

You pulled him down into the pillows he had prepared for you both, as you took out the food he had ordered, your heart growing warm at the sight of the food, it was your favorite dishes.

Both of you are in full conversation, never was there a moment a silence, Ben had went out of his way to even bring a small stereo to play music. As you got closer to finishing you began to get quiet, biting absently onto a strawberry he had bought for you.

“Y/n.. are you okay, did you not like it?”

You turned towards him, eyebrows furrowing, “No of course not! I love it, everything. You. I love you. I was just thinking.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything, you know that.” Ben pulled you onto his lap, you straddled him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“I just miss you when you’re away… you’re gone for long and then the media is ruthless… you’re signing to an official label… eyes will be on you even more…”

Ben kissed you, interrupting your rambling. You moaned into his mouth when he had bit into your lip, allowing the small gasp to slip his tongue, massaging your tongue with his. His hands ran through your legs, cupping your behind to push you harder into him.

“You talk a lot. And worry for small shit that hasn’t happened yet.”

You opened your eyes to see him grinning, you poked his forehead, “Asshole.”

“Again, I don’t see you complaining. But, you need to relax. I love you y/n. I want to share all of my ups and downs with you, i want to explore the world, share all my success and failures with you. I want to marry you.”

Your eyes widened.

However Ben continued, “I don’t really give a fuck if I have media on me, I just care about you. I care about your opinions, your thoughts, your wellbeing.”

You stuttered, his speech leaving you dazed. You couldn’t find words to describe how you were feeling at the moment, you just needed him. So you leaned down to kiss him, this time your hips moved against his crotch. He grunted, his hands becoming desperate holds on your behind.

He leaned you towards the pillows, “Here? Are you-“

You kissed him again, “Here. God. Anywhere I just want you.”

Benji’s eyes twitched with such emotion that left you tightening your legs around his waist, thrusting softly towards him. Grinding softly, you held onto him tighter, desperate to feel him closer, annoyed clothes were in the way. Benji’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he took sharp breaths.

“Stop. Seven fucking hells y/n, stop.”

You paused, the heat of the night making you feel a little warmer than usual. You were surprised to hear him stop you when usually he would just yank open your clothes to take you.

“Ben?”

He took a deep breath before he got to his feet, still holding you against him. You squealed, wrapping yourself around him as you watched him sit you on top of his car.

“You’re a devil in disguise princess.”

You grinned, pushing his hair back as you leaned towards him to bite softly at his chin. He pushed you back on the hood of his car as he laid kisses on every piece of your skin that was open. You moaned at every suck, bite, lick he was leaving as he explored your body.

He stopped when he got to the waist band of your skirt, “This is pretty.. should we keep it on?”

You were breathing hard as you tried to form a sentence. He chuckled, licking his lips once again. You feared if he took any longer to touch you, you’d just start crying. Your wish came true when you yelped loudly at the cold touch of his rings trailing your legs up to your waist.

He pulled your panties down, but instead of just the usual way of just flinging it to the side, he shoved it into his front pocket. Your core growing more wetter than usual, the thoughts of what he might do with those excited you.

“Are you sure here? We can just go back to my apar-“

You shuddered at the air going to your bare core, “Ben please, here. I need you.”

You watched as his eyes closed, before he leaned down to press a kiss onto your chapped lips. As he kissed you, his fingers moved quietly, your mouth opened as you felt the first finger enter you. He shushed you, murmuring how lucky he was, how much he missed you. He kissed your long loud moans, his finger working in and out of you faster.

Accidentally biting into his lip, you tasted the metallic taste of blood, instead of grossing you out, you kissed him more. Benji only hissed as he buckled into your core, he was feeling stressed knowing he was close to coming just with the way you were reacting to a finger of his.

“Ben-Ben I can’t.. I need you..” you tugged his hair tightly, still moaning into his mouth. He only pressed a kiss onto your cheeks, your nose, leaving you intoxicated with his touch.

He removed his finger, moving to remove you of your corset, his mouth opening in slight shock when you wore nothing but just your top.

“You truly are a little devil.”

You attempted to send him a grin but he had already leaned down to continue his exploration, his mouth wrapped on your perky bud, as the other massaged the other. He moaned, sending vibrations all over your body. Your eyes teared from the sensation, you were laid exposed on the hood of your boyfriends car, at the top view of Landing, you were truly close to the gods than ever.

“Mine.”

Your mind was elsewhere, too lost in the pleasure that you almost missed what he had said, he had grabbed your chin again as he pulled you close to his face.

You probably looked like a mess but if you did, he didn’t complain, he only looked at you with full adoration and all the care of the world.

“Come.”

With the help of Ben who noticed you were too exposed, only wearing the skirt he kept on you, he carried you instead inside his car. He moved quickly. Allowing the front seats of the car to be pushed all the way forward to allow you both to find comfort in the back seat.

He sat you on top of his lap, you looked at him as he did you. His eyes glittered in the moonlight, you felt lost in his eyes, your fingers trailed from the top of his head to every freckle, the slight bump of his nose, his slight scar on the top of his lip that added so much character to the man you loved with all your heart. He breathed you in, closing your eyes as you memorized every detail that made him Benjicot.

You took his peaceful state to remove his jacket, pulling his tee off of him, your core burned as you took in his shape. He had gotten more muscular and god… it made you need him much more.

“Do you enjoy the view or are you going to carry on darling?”

Ben had his eyes closed still, however his lips were twisted into a smirk, you grew with a need to make him start begging.

As you moved to remove his jeans, which he moved slightly to have them off, you noticed how hard he was, you smirked knowing how to get him hot, desperate.

You knew he wouldn’t expect it so you moved quick before he had you shaking instead. You took him in your hand, needing two to handle him, and with a long stripe you took him in your mouth. He gasped loudly, buckling into your hold.

“Fucking hell…” he grabbed onto your hair, pulling it, digging his fingernails when you took him all the way in. You slightly gagged when you felt him deep down your throat but you enjoyed to hear Benji whimper in your hold, he was grabbing tightly onto your hair, not enough for it to hurt but it sent fire through your veins.

You moved your head up and down, using your hands to grab hold of the skin that you couldn’t put in your mouth, and with that motion you had Benji moaning loudly, shaking, trembling. He was whispering, gasping how beautiful you looked, how much he had missed you, how he thought of you every night when he touched himself.

“Seven hells, y/n!”

You yelped when he pushed you off of him, only to have you under him, he kept your skirt on and with no warning, he held you close, his mouth on yours as he pushed in all the way into your wanting core.

The entrance felt too good you only moaned into his mouth as he shuddered indulging himself in your heat and how good you felt around him. You only held him close to you, he had his face deep in your neck.

“Is this okay darling? Do you feel me?”

You felt him more than anything. You felt every push, every single time he pulled back and thrusted into you again, you felt his hands holding onto your waist, how he whispered into your ear the declarations of love. You only nodded whimpering when he began to thrust at a rhythm.

Benji wanted you to feel his love, the absence he felt when he wasn’t by your side. He wanted you to feel how much he would do for you, how he would bring you the fucking moon if you asked for it. He would rather burn himself than to ever loose you.

He held you with such care contrary of the way his hips were moving, how he pushed against you hard that you feared the car would break with how desperate he was thrusting.

“More.. god I love you.” You whined into his shoulder, biting into the pale skin, he whimpered. Shaking in your hold as you probably were as well he moved to the side, sitting you on top of him.

“Ride me darling, let me see you pretty girl.”

You leaned onto your feet, guiding his throbbing cock into your folds again you slid all the way down, gasping at the new angle. With half lidded eyes you watched Ben whisper several curses, his head falling back into the seat as his tongue poked out slightly.

“L-look at me Ben…” you commanded, reaching for his hands to place them onto your waist. You were shaking hard knowing you were close, and you felt he was close as well as you felt the throbbing inside you, the twitching.

He opened his eyes, and he was rewarded with such sight that he wished he had his phone with him to capture such sight. You sat on top, a black flattery skirt on, breasts full on display as the tips of your hair was tangled with the way he had hold of them.

“Fucking hell, you are beautiful my love. All mine. Are you baby? Are you mine?”

You whimpered as you lifted yourself from his throbbing cock to only slide down hard watching his eyes tear from the need to just ravish you but his love overpowered him.

“I’m yours Benjicot Blackwood. Today and tomorrow, and always I will be yours.”

You grabbed his hand which he interlocked with yours.

He sat up to grab you face to face, and with that began a round of the most pleasure you had ever experienced. You never let go of his hand as you never faltered in the stare you had on him. You swore you never felt him this close. Your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest, Benji’s breath quickening yet he never let his dark stare leave yours.

You were beautiful, you were a goddess to Benji, and though he was surrounded by million of other girls, he would never think anyone matched your level. No one looked much prettier taking his cock like you did. He’d go to war for you if you simply asked.

You clutched into his shoulders, letting out a sob as he had touched your sensitive spot, “There.. Ben…”

“Come on pretty girl, you’re almost there. I’m almost there”

You threw your head back as you moved up and down, Ben meeting your every thrust with enthusiasm. He would be there to catch you when you fell. Always.

He shook when he felt the bubble in the pit of his stomach, he began to see flashes yet he shook his head as he looked up at you. His gaze turning into a blur, he was close but he wanted to see you.

“Come on baby, give in to me.”

You grabbed onto his neck, sobbing into his mouth, “I love you Ben..”

He felt as if the world ended tonight, he wouldn’t mind. This would be the perfect way to die, “I love you more baby. You are my entire world”

With a final thrust, you came crumbling down into his hold, you sobbed as he kissed you through your aftershocks, feeling him gasp as he came deep inside you.

You sat in each other arms, riding the aftershocks, shaking as if you were in the cold winter, you didn’t want to look at the state of the car knowing you’ll meet a disaster. You and Ben were never nice to the surroundings once you started.

You heard him breathe uncontrollably, holding him onto your chest, you felt his arms cradle you close. You sat in silence, waiting for your breaths to be back to normal. It was then you felt Ben chuckle against your bare skin.

You tilted your head back to have a good eye on your now laughing boyfriend. “What’s so funny?”

“You really did miss me. Maybe I should go away often,” he shook his head, the sweat dripping from his chin. You rolled your eyes as you joined in his laugh.

You were glad your boyfriend was back in town, in your arms where he belonged.

[scarlet-rider]

[OFFSCREEN POST]

WARNINGS: Pokémon death

———

“Find anything, Pyrrhus?”

The Koraidon groaned as he lifted his head, looking back at his rider with a frown.

Florence huffed, but gave her Pokémon a comforting smile and a pat on the side. “No worries. It moves fast. Guess we shouldn’t expect finding it to be that easy.”

She steered Pyrrhus around, guiding him down a different roadway winding through the canyons. “Let’s keep up the search. We gotta track that thing down before it can hurt anyone else.”

Letting out a small grunt, Pyrrhus kept his head lowered to the ground, shuffling along the path as he searched attentively for any unusual scents. Florence tried to keep an eye out from atop his back as well, but struggled to focus as the memories of what conspired here yesterday resurfaced.

Larry lying on the ground lifelessly, with the Iron Valiant standing over him, blood staining its spear- ever since she woke up this morning, she hadn’t been able to shake that image from her mind. She’d been to the depths of Area Zero, fought a mad-driven robot lady and stopped a time machine, and yet none of that had been nearly as horrifying as watching that Pokémon slice through another human like paper.

None of this would’ve happened if I’d only been faster… she thought, thoughtlessly gripping Pyrrhus’ shoulder spikes tighter. I almost had it. If I’d caught it, maybe Larry wouldn’t have-

The feeling of Pyrrhus jostling violently underneath her as he jolted up yanked Florence out of her spiraling thoughts. Before she could ask what the heck he was doing, the giant lizard was already leaping down the cliffs like they were a set of stairs.

Thinking he’d finally found what they were looking for, Florence steeled her focus and braced herself- she knew full well by now what this Paradox ‘mon was capable of, and she wasn’t about to let it throw her off like it did last time.

“Find it, boy?” she asked after Pyrrhus dropped into a small, dark canyon and made his way into a tunnel. Probably one made by the local titan Orthworm, if she had to assume. Pyrrhus let out a soft grunt, sniffing incessantly at the rocky ground as he made his way further into the cave.

Whatever scent he’d picked up, it’d really piqued his interest- his pupils were round, and not even the slightest movement from the wild Pokémon passing by could distract him.

Suddenly, his head sprung back up, a low rumble emitting from his throat as he stared wide-eyed into the depths of the cave. Florence knew this meant he’d found whatever he’d been tracking, and gripped his shoulder spines as she waited patiently.

A strange, humanoid shadow moved along the wall ahead of them, and Florence sucked in a silent breath, preparing herself for the incoming fight. The moment that Iron Valiant laid eyes on them, it’d move in for the kill. This was serious.

“Wait for it…” she muttered to her Pokémon, who began clawing at the dirt in anticipation. Pyrrhus snarled, an orange glow beginning to form in the back of his throat.

A figure stepped out from behind the corner, and Florence didn’t wait to give the command.

“Now! Flamethrower!”

A jet of flames erupted from Pyrrhus’s maw, streaming forwards at whatever was up ahead, lighting up the pitch dark cavern. Florence only called the reptile off when she heard a scream- a human scream- echo out from the spot they figure emerged from.

“Pyrrhus, wait-!” She yelped, desperately yanking on her Koraidon’s shoulder spines to pull him back. His mouth snapped shut, smoke trailing from the corners of his mouth as he stepped back and crooned at his rider in confusion.

Florence bit her lip, mentally scolding herself for being so careless and praying they didn’t just fry an innocent bystander. The poor person that had almost been cooked alive stepped forwards- it was a trainer riding on the back of a Cyclizar.

The unmistakable pink hair was the first thing to catch Florence’s attention. “Blake?”

The older trainer pulled their Cyclizar to a stop, seeming just as surprised. “Florence?”

“What are you doing here?”

They both awkwardly pause for a moment after their voices accidentally overlap each other, but Florence is the one to speak next.

“…I’m looking for the Iron Valiant.” she explains.

Blake seems clueless as to what she’s talking about, but doesn’t ask. “Uh- I’m looking for that weird… Gallade from yesterday.”

“Yeah, that was the Iron Valiant.”

“…Oh.”

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Florence pinched the bridge of her nose. “You shouldn’t be here! It’s dangerous!”

“Uh yeah, that’s exactly why I’m here,” Blake scoffed in response. Their Cyclizar trotted up to Pyrrhus, the two reptiles sniffing each other’s noses in greeting. “I’m gonna try and catch that thing before it can mess up anyone else!”

Guess they had the exact same line of thinking as her, then. Even so, Florence couldn’t bring herself to drag some random, previously uninvolved person into this mess. Even if said person was a former champion… And saved the world three times before… Okay, maybe she could use their help.

Though, there was still something she had to know. “Why? You saw for yourself how dangerous it is.” She pointed to the thick bandages wrapped around their upper arm. “You even got injured by it yourself…”

“Guess I’m just that stupid?” They joked with an awkward half-grin. Their nonchalance about this really didn’t do anything to help Florence’s bafflement. “Nah, but seriously… It was kind of my fault it got so angry last time. I followed Rika and jumped in when my help wasn’t needed…”

That- well, that wasn’t unnecessarily untrue. Blake’s out-of-the-blue appearance yesterday had definitely thrown everybody off their rhythm, not to mention they’d had the Iron Valiant cornered before that Lucario came charging in with a Dragon Pulse. But could she blame them, really? When you’re a trainer with Blake’s kind of strength, it must be hard to resist the urge to help when the opportunity arises.

“Okay, fine, you can help,” Florence sighed. “Just try to keep quiet, okay? I’d like to get the element of surprise on it if we can, so no charging it the moment we see it or something.”

Without another word, she urged Pyrrhus on through the tunnel.

“Wait wait wait,” Blake’s Cyclizar had to trot to keep up. “You’re like- a high schooler. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to let you face off against a thing that almost killed a guy…”

“First of all,” she began curtly. “I’ve faced far worse. Second of all, I know way more about Paradox Pokémon than you do.”

“Look, I’m just trying to be the responsible adult here!” Blake protested, throwing their hands up in defense. “I-I get it, you wanna fix everything- but you’re too young to be playing the hero, trust me.”

Florence cast them a glance back, before watching Pyrrhus intently as he continued the search for the Iron Valiant’s scent. “You were 16 when you saved the world, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Yeah, exactly my point! That messed me up! You should be… I don’t know what normal teenagers do, focus on school? Hang out with friends? Anything but tracking down some murder monster!”

You don’t know the half of it, Florence thought. Obviously Blake had no idea, but she’d had her own experience of stopping a region-threatening crisis herself. Still, the way Blake thought she was out of her element here was somewhat frustrating, to be honest.

Before she could think up a retort, though, Pyrrhus raising his head in alert once more caught her attention. Whatever scent he’d caught, Blake’s Cyclizar seemed to have picked up on it, too- both lizards began growling anxiously at the cave exit up ahead.

The two trainers shared a look of uncertainty, before swallowing their anxiety and gently encouraging both their Pokémon forwards. Prowling close to the ground, the pair of reptiles eventually carried the two humans out of the cave and into the sunlight.

Florence’s eyes quickly glossed over the area. It was a small, round pit, surrounded at all sides by steep but relatively small cliffs. Like the rest of the area, there was little to no vegetation.

The most eye-catching thing about the area was the lanky, human-like figure laying against the far wall.

Florence’s jaw fell open. It was the Iron Valiant.

The whole group tensed up, freezing in their tracks at the sight of the robot. It’s been propped up against the rocks, it’s head hanging lifelessly with its arms dangling at its sides. Its spear had been broken in half, lying uselessly in two pieces at its side.

Once they realized it wasn’t conscious, Blake was the first to speak up. “What… happened to it…?”

Florence bit her lip, hesitantly sliding off Pyrrhus’ back and tip-toeing her way over to the robotic Fighting-type’s body. Her Koraidon shifted and rumbled uncomfortably, his hackles raised as he approached it with her.

Just to make sure, she kicked a small pebble towards the Iron Valiant that rolled into its ankle. No response. Eventually, she crouched down beside it, her eyes scanning over its body. Up close, she noticed just how roughed up it was- multiple scratches and dents had been left on its metal surface. From what, she couldn’t completely tell.

She exhaled shakily, realizing that whatever did this had put the Iron Valiant out of commission for good. Her raised hand trembled as she looked over the robot’s body several times, search for any, any sign that could’ve pointed to the culprit. Yes, she’d wanted to find the thing and prevent it from doing anymore harm, but… not like this.

A pit of sympathy for the thing bubbled in her stomach. Sure, it’d been violent and unpredictable, but at the end of the day- it’d just been a confused, lost Pokémon.

The question was: why would someone do this? Had the League sent someone to take care of it? No- if that was the case they probably would’ve taken the body, too. Maybe a wild Pokémon had just successfully defended itself from it, or a trainer it attacked fought back.

“Hey, what’s that?” Blake’s voice snapped Florence out of her train of thought as they pointed at the Iron Valiant’s right shoulder. Following their finger, Florence spotted it, too- a strange, metal vial lodged in the Paradox Pokémon’s joint.

Furrowing her brows, she reached forwards and plucked it out, realizing it had a needle attached to it. It was… some kind of dart? It had a purple, hexagonal piece of glass sticking from the other end, and remnants of a strange, purple liquid swished about inside.

“Wait… I’ve seen something like this before.” Florence murmured. recalling the mysterious orange dart she’d found after failing to track down a herd of wild Paradox Pokémon a few days ago. Her eyes lingered on the dart for a moment longer, before she looked back to the Iron Valiant’s remains.

“Someone did this on purpose,” she gasped. “The missing Paradoxes- is- is this somehow all tied to it..?”

“Huh?” Blake tilted their head, clueless as to what she was referring to. “What do you mean-”

A sudden movement from the supposedly dead Iron Valiant cut Blake off, and both trainers stumbled back in terror when the robot’s void eyes flickered back to life in an instant.

Pyrrhus jumped into action, growling while protectively curling his tail around Florence. Blake’s Cyclizar followed suit, jumped in front of them and hissing in warning.

The Iron Valiant rose to its feet, wobbling from side to side. Its head and joints twitched involuntarily, and its glowing pink eyes flickered on and off as it made electronic, glitchy beeping noises.

It didn’t take long for it to notice the humans present. Grabbing for one of the broken halves of its spear, it clumsily lunged at them, emitting an ear-piercing shriek that almost sounded bone-chillingly human. Pyrrhus braced himself, ready to fight back-

But the Iron Valiant stopped all of a sudden, frozen in place with its broken spear still held high above its head. All Florence and Blake could do was watch on in confusion and horror as the mechanical Gallade began to twitch and flail around even more violently, a distorted static noise echoing around the area.

Finally, it’s robotic voice drowned out and it’s eyes went dark again as it stumbled back onto the ground, landing face-first. The broken spear clattered uselessly a foot or so away.

They barely had time to react before the Iron Valiant’s body began to radiate a white-hot light. Realizing what was about to happen, Blake jumped to their feet, pulling a stunned Florence out of the way. Just in time, too- in a matter of seconds, the fallen Paradox Pokémon imploded, bits of its body flying everywhere.

The trainers stumbled onto the dirt just inches out of the explosion’s radius, their Pokémon’s sturdier bodies shielding them from the worst of it.

Several seconds of silence passed, and Florence dared to look up, even through she was trembling horribly and could feel her heart hammering in her chest in fear. She saw Pyrrhus standing protectively above her, and glancing past his front leg, her stomach dropped at what she saw.

The Iron Valiant was totally unrecognizable- reduced to nothing but scattered fragments of charred scrap metal.

Seeing that creature suffer so horribly like that in its final moments, and then watching it succumb to such a morbid, awful fate- it made her feel sick. She had to cover her mouth, feeling like she might lose her lunch at any second.

“I-I…” Blake stammered, at a loss for words. They shook themself out of it, though, and looked towards Florence. “Kid- I… I think we should get out of here…”

“W-wait-” Florence stumbled to her feet, pushing down the dread bubbling inside her as she moved to grab something laying on the ground a few feet away. It was the dart from before- she must’ve dropped it during the explosion. She looked over it one last time, searching for any clues of where on earth it could’ve possibly come from. Or who.

Lifting her eyes, she then noticed the head of the former Iron Valiant- it was scorched and dented, but it was probably the most in tact of the remains. Even though looking at it made her feel ill, she picked it up anyways, tucking it under her arm.

“I- I have to get to the bottom of this,” she declared, squeezing the dart in her hand. “I can’t let it happen to anymore Paradoxes- n-no Pokémon deserves to die like that…!”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Blake spoke in the most comforting tone they could muster, placing a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “This is all really scary, I get it, but you need to breathe-”

Florence wasn’t even aware she was on the verge of hyperventilating. She barely even registered Blake’s hand on her shoulder- she just pushed past them, clambering onto Pyrrhus’ back. Blake’s shouts were drowned out by her heart thumping in her ears and the sound of her Koraidon’s footsteps as he made a leap up onto the nearest cliff.

“H-hey- wait a minute!” Blake shouted after her, jumping onto their Cyclizar’s back and tailing after the big red lizard and his rider. With their Pokémon being so much smaller, though, they struggled to get up the cliff side as fast as Pyrrhus had. By the time they got to the top, the other trainer and her ride were well out of sight.

“Aaand she’s gone…” Blake grumbled under their breath. Their Cyclizar, Dart, just huffed underneath them. Digging into their pocket, Blake pulled out their Rotom phone, momentarily wincing at the amount of missed messages from Hop and Auberi. They checked the time, noticing it was afternoon- sheesh, had they really been gone all day?

Sighing heavily, the ex-champion tucked their phone away and grabbed onto the handles of Dart’s saddle. “I doubt we could catch up with them at this rate. Only thing we can do now is head home and hope she won’t do anything crazy…”

With that, they sped away on the back of the green Dragon-type, unable to shake the bubbling pit of unease in their stomach.

Meanwhile, a presence they’d been completely unaware of watched Blake and Florence rush off in separate directions from above.

The robotic lizard crooned, peering down from the towering cliff edge. Its metallic tail swished back and forth, as its pixelated electric blue eyes eventually fixated on the disappearing Koraidon with interest.

———

[pinkhairandpokemon]

I may have fucked up

-Blake

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - under the checkered flag (part one)

warnings ; none!

prompt ; in which a girl who doesn’t believe in risks takes the biggest one of all—falling for a man who lives for the thrill.

note ; the TikTok that started it all (you need to watch this to envision racer!jk) GUYS I CANT BELIEVE PART ONE IS HEREEEE i hope u lil angels enjoy!

playlist here

series masterlist here

You stand at the edge of the VIP lounge, the sharp click of your heels against the smooth marble floor a quiet punctuation in a room filled with soft murmurs and the electric hum of anticipation. The glass windows before you stretch wide, offering an unobstructed view of the track below. The roar of the crowd rises and falls like a living thing, almost drowned out by the whir of engines, but you remain removed from it all, as though encased in a bubble of calm.

The race is unfolding in front of you, a blur of speed and motion that holds the crowd in rapt attention. But not you. You’re not here for the spectacle. You’re here because you have no choice.

If it was up to you, you would be curled up at home with a good book.

Your world exists in the quiet hum of spreadsheets and contracts, in the tick of a clock that keeps perfect time with your efficiency. You are the one who makes sure the numbers line up, the one who offers solutions from behind the scenes while others bask in the glory. The event, with its flashing lights and intoxicating energy, is nothing more than background noise to you. The true task at hand are your clients—pleasing them, keeping them content, ensuring they leave with what they need.

Around you, they chatter excitedly about the race, discussing drivers with fervor, as if each name carries the weight of a story, a legend. You smile politely when needed, nodding along to their enthusiasm. It’s part of the job, after all. But the adrenaline, the hunger for victory, the dizzying rush of competition—none of it calls to you.

Your clients are electric with excitement, each eager to bask in the glamour of it all. They laugh, they network, they try to rub elbows with the important people in the room, as if each conversation could bring them closer to something more. You, however, remain at the fringes, a quiet observer of the spectacle. You sip your drink, a touch too sweet for your taste, but it’s expected. You nod politely, always maintaining your composure, never letting them see the distance you’ve carefully cultivated.

The cars race by in a blur of metallic color, their engines a symphony of power and precision. But you stand untouched, removed from it all—an island of quiet in the midst of a storm. Your thoughts drift, but not far—always circling back to the task at hand. You are, after all, a woman of purpose.

Still, the world around you shifts ever so slightly. The energy is palpable, like the thrum of an engine idling before it roars to life.

You’re in the middle of a conversation with Nari, one of your clients, who’s standing beside you, happily chatting away about the race. It’s not an unpleasant exchange, though you keep it measured—carefully maintaining the reserved, corporate presence that’s expected of you. You listen, nodding at appropriate intervals, offering the occasional smile as she recounts the excitement surrounding the event.

Nari, unlike the others in your circle, doesn’t seem to care about the business aspect of the evening as much. She’s enjoying herself—really enjoying herself, letting her enthusiasm radiate out. She’s warm, and that makes her easy to talk to, even if you remain a bit distant in the conversation.

Then, in the middle of a sentence, she slaps your arm—not once, but twice. The suddenness of it makes you blink in surprise, your mind instantly jumping to work. You glance at her, half-expecting her to make some point about the contract or a deadline that’s come up.

But when you turn to her, Nari isn’t looking at you with business eyes. She’s gazing intently at the track, eyes wide with awe. “Look!” she says, voice full of excitement.

You glance down at the racing circuit below, but everything is a blur—a sea of people cheering, the cars zipping by at breakneck speeds. You don’t understand what’s drawing her attention, but you follow her gaze to the far end of the track.

And then you see it.

A man stands near the pit crew, a figure who stands out effortlessly, almost as though the world around him fades away. It’s not just his presence—it’s the way the crowd reacts to him. Eyes are locked on him, whispers swirl, and every now and then, a fan cheers what you assume is his name in admiration.

Nari catches the look on your face and laughs softly. “That’s Jeon Jungkook,” she says, her voice tinged with something you can’t quite place, something between awe and admiration. “You’ve heard of him, right?”

You shake your head, still a little lost. “Should I have?” you ask, keeping your tone polite, though it’s laced with curiosity.

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “He’s only one of the best race car drivers in the world. This whole event is basically about him. I would die for just 10 minutes alone with him.”

You follow Nari’s gaze again, watching as “Jungkook” moves with effortless confidence—his every step radiating a quiet, undeniable power. His race car driver’s suit hugs his frame, the white fabric lined with dark accents and the bold logos of his sponsors. The suit, though simple in design, speaks of his place in this world—the world of speed, danger, and high stakes. It’s pristine, a sharp contrast to the messiness of the pit area, yet he fits into it as if he belongs there completely.

But it’s not just the suit that catches your attention. There’s something magnetic about him. The lip piercing—just a small glint of silver beneath his lower lip—gives him an edge, while the eyebrow piercing above his sharp eyes seems to dare the world to approach him. His hands, resting casually at his sides, are covered in tattoos—delicate yet bold designs that snake up his fingers and wrists, visible even beneath the sleeves of his racing suit. His dark hair, tousled just enough to look effortless, adds to the allure, making him seem like a man who’s too cool to care and too talented to be ignored.

You can’t help but look him over. He’s a stark contrast to anyone you’ve known—his raw energy, his daring look, the kind of man you’ve only ever heard about in stories, the kind you’ve never quite crossed paths with. Not that you have much experience in that department. The world you come from is much more… structured. A world of numbers, strategies, and controlled environments. Nothing like this chaotic, exhilarating universe of racing, adrenaline, and the crowds that follow it.

Nari nudges you lightly. “He’s kind of... impossible to miss, don’t you think?”

You nod, still trying to process the whirlwind of everything around you. “I can see that.”

For a moment, you just watch him—a man who seems so comfortable in his world, his confidence radiating with every movement.

Jungkook’s car, marked by his distinctive racing team’s logo, takes its position at the front. He stands next to it, his figure impossibly calm before the storm, waving to the crowd with an easy, practiced smile that seems to light up the entire stadium. The way he moves, the confidence in his every gesture, makes the rest of the world around you blur into the background. All eyes are on him, from the front row of the VIP box to the fans pressing their faces against the barriers.

His smile is magnetic, a gesture that holds the room in its sway, and then—just as quickly as it arrived—he slips behind the wheel, his body moving with a fluidity that hints at a lifetime of discipline. The helmet is a perfect fit, the visor obscuring his face but never hiding the intensity in his posture. His team surrounds him, final checks being made, and then he’s in the car: strapped in, ready to take on the track with the same precision he’s mastered over the years.

You can feel the energy in the room shift, like the collective breath of a thousand people held in unison. As the engines hum louder, the cars tear forward into the first turn, their bodies slicing through the air like knives. You don’t know much about racing, but you can’t help but feel the sheer power, the danger of it all—the skill it takes to navigate at such speeds.

Nari, beside you, is practically vibrating with excitement. She can hardly sit still, her eyes never leaving the track. “I can’t believe I’m here,” she says, her voice a mix of awe and gratitude. She glances at you, her smile wide and genuine. “You’re seriously the best consultant I’ve ever worked with. This event? Amazing! You have to bring me to more of these. I can’t even handle how cool this is!”

You smile, acknowledging her praise, but your attention drifts back to the track. You’ve never seen anything like this before—never experienced a race in person, never felt the air thrum with the excitement of speed and skill. The crowd’s reactions are infectious. Their eyes never leave the cars, their cheers rising and falling with every passing lap. The noise is overwhelming, yet somehow it doesn’t drown out the sharp clarity of the moment. It’s like you can hear the tires gripping the track, the engines growling in perfect synchronization with the heartbeat of the race itself.

And then, there he is again—Jungkook. His car glides effortlessly through each turn, sharp and controlled, never losing speed. It’s almost as if the car is an extension of himself—his hands on the wheel, his foot pressing the pedal, a perfect partnership of man and machine.

The rest of the VIP section is just as absorbed as you are now, their eyes locked on the track. No one seems to care about anything else. All conversations have died down, replaced by the collective focus on the man in the race car. He’s the center of the universe in this moment, and the crowd knows it.

You watch him move, almost hypnotized by the way his car zips around corners, its sleek frame barely brushing the edge of the track. His body remains a steady presence inside the car, every movement smooth, fluid, like he was born to be in this exact moment.

Nari’s voice breaks through your thoughts again, louder this time, almost giddy. “He’s incredible, right? I swear, no one drives like him. He’s untouchable.”

You nod, barely aware of the words you’re saying in response, your gaze still fixed on him. He’s the kind of person who draws attention effortlessly—someone who doesn’t just race; he commands the track, making it seem like the rest of the world moves at a slower pace. It’s almost impossible to look away.

But after a few more minutes of intense watching, everyone seems to fall back into the habit of corporate mannerisms.

The night stretches on, the hours bleeding into one another with a blur of handshakes, small talk, and the kind of polite smiles that never quite reach your eyes. You can feel the weight of the evening in the tightness of your cheeks from all the forced grins, the exhaustion starting to settle into your shoulders. You keep your posture straight, your voice steady, your words measured, as though each conversation is a carefully placed step along the invisible path you’ve created for yourself. But, truth be told, it’s all starting to feel like too much.

The race has come and gone. The crescendo of excitement has dwindled down to polite murmurs and the clinking of glasses, but the energy remains alive in the air, electric, like the hum of a far-off engine. Around you, investors, some of your coworkers, and clients continue their conversations, chirping in your ear with their endless chatter about the race, the drivers, the statistics—everything and anything, as long as it keeps them entertained. And you? You’re just trying to stay afloat, to steer the conversation back to the real reason you’re here: the merger.

You focus on the man in front of you, nodding at the right times, keeping your voice neutral as you slip between sentences about engines and market strategies. Your mind drifts, but you catch yourself, keeping it professional. It’s a balancing act, one you’ve mastered after years of doing the same dance, smiling just enough, listening with enough attention to make them feel heard, but never too much, never enough to let anyone see the quiet retreat inside your head. You nod at the right times, laughing at the jokes that aren’t funny, offering the occasional “That’s right” when a client drones on about the race they just witnessed.

Then, as you try to pull the conversation back toward the merger details with your client—an overly enthusiastic man who seems more interested in talking about his recent investment portfolio than the deal at hand—you hear it.

A ripple. A whisper. A soft murmur of voices, high-pitched and full of excitement. Female voices. And then, the faint sound of heels clicking against the floor, echoing slightly in the VIP box.

You don’t immediately turn, but the shift in the room is subtle. The air grows thicker with anticipation, the laughter quieter, as though everyone is holding their breath. It’s only when a few heads turn, followed by more murmurs, that you realize what’s happening.

Someone important has entered the VIP box.

Someone you recognize from Nari’s earlier fangirling.

Jungkook.

The shift is almost imperceptible at first, a movement in the periphery of your vision that catches your eye—a figure so distinct, so naturally commanding, that it’s hard to miss. He’s not making an announcement, not demanding attention. He simply enters, and it’s as if the room bends around him, reshaping itself in a way that makes him the undeniable center of gravity. His presence is magnetic. Without even trying, he draws every pair of eyes in the room to him.

You hear the soft laughter of women who have gathered around, trying to look casual, trying to seem unbothered, but the way they adjust themselves, the quick flickers of glances—they can’t help but steal a look at him. And you? You feel the sudden pressure of the moment—his presence now hanging thick in the air like an unspoken truth.

You try to keep your focus on the client in front of you, but your gaze inevitably slips toward him. There he is, still in his racing suit, but now a little looser, his jacket untucked as he walks through the crowd. His casual swagger, the way his head tilts slightly as he acknowledges a few familiar faces—everything about him oozes confidence. He’s not trying to be noticed. But somehow, he is.

Your heart races in a different way now—not because of the speed of the race, but because of the way he moves, the way the crowd subtly parts to make room for him, as if they know who he is and who they are in comparison. He’s an anomaly, a figure who doesn’t belong to this world of quiet mergers and business deals.

You can feel a flutter in your chest, an inexplicable tension rising, but you push it down. You can’t focus on that now. You can’t focus on him. Not with the clients still chattering away, not with your responsibilities still weighing heavily on you. Yet, you can’t ignore the way the room feels suddenly sharper, the air charged with an energy you hadn’t felt before.

There’s a soft rustle of clothing behind you, and when you glance back, you see Nari slipping through the crowd toward Jungkook, her excitement evident in the way her eyes brighten. She’s not the only one. The women around the room are shifting, making their way toward him with a subtle urgency, like moths to a flame.

You return to your client, attempting to steer the conversation back to business, but your mind is drifting again. You can’t help it. You’re aware of every shift in the room, every small movement he makes. He hasn’t looked in your direction yet, but you feel the gravity of his presence—his proximity changing the way you see everything in this space.

For a moment, you wonder why everyone is so captivated. What is it about him that makes it impossible for anyone to look away?

Jungkook moves through the crowd with the effortless grace of someone who has long ago learned the rhythm of the world he inhabits. He’s calm, composed, exchanging polite handshakes with the investors who surround him, his presence making each gesture seem deliberate, calculated. The hum of voices rises and falls in time with his movements, the crowd parting for him like a river parting for a stone. He’s not rushing, not in a hurry. He’s here because he belongs here.

As he works the room, the questions swirl in your mind. Why is he here? What’s the connection? You can’t imagine him needing anything from these people—not with his reputation, not with the wealth and fame that follow him wherever he goes. But still, there’s something about the way the investors are all hanging on his every word, leaning in as though his presence is a golden ticket. You can’t help but wonder if it’s all about money, if this event has as much to do with business as it does with the race itself.

The realization is jarring for a moment. You, someone who is used to orchestrating behind the scenes, someone who deals in numbers and contracts, now find yourself in a room where money and power are on display in ways that are almost foreign to you.

The buzz of conversation shifts, and before you can dive back into your thoughts, Nari is suddenly beside you, her voice loud with excitement, a bright flush of energy in her cheeks. “I can’t believe it!” she practically squeals, looking like she might burst. “He just shook my hand—he shook my hand. I need him so badly, you have no idea.”

You blink, caught off guard by the intensity of her words. She’s practically vibrating with excitement, her eyes wide as she looks back toward him. There’s a kind of longing in her gaze, something that makes the entire room seem a little more... charged, as though everyone’s attention is fixated on him in a way that you simply can’t understand.

You nod, offering a half-hearted smile. “Oh, wow.” The words are polite, simple, just enough to acknowledge her enthusiasm without drawing too much attention to yourself. You’re not sure what to say—what can you say? She’s swept up in the excitement of the moment, but you can’t bring yourself to share that same energy.

Instead, you find your gaze slipping to the snack table at the far side of the room. You don’t want to be in the center of all this, don’t want to be caught up in the growing buzz surrounding him. You slide away from Nari, keeping your movements minimal, your presence as unnoticeable as possible.

The snack table is a welcome refuge—quiet, untouched by the frenzy of the crowd. You stand there for a moment, inhaling the sharp, tangy scent of the cheeses and the subtle sweetness of the wine, a quiet comfort in the sea of noise around you. You nibble on a small piece of cheese, your fingers careful and measured as you pop it into your mouth, savoring the simple relief of it.

Your eyes flick to Jungkook once more—he’s still shaking hands, still effortlessly charming those around him with his easy smile. But now, you feel distant from it all. The noise, the chatter, the way people react to him—it’s all so foreign to you. You slip another piece of cheese into your mouth, focusing on the taste, the quiet that surrounds this small corner of the room. It’s easier here, simpler. You don’t need to pretend, don’t need to keep up with the energy everyone else is feeding off.

And for the briefest moment, you wonder if this is how the world of racing works—how Jungkook works. Not for the thrill, not for the rush, but for the way it makes everyone around him move a little differently, makes them feel things they didn’t know they could. The thought doesn’t linger long before you pull yourself back to the present, focusing instead on the taste of the wine, the cool glass in your hand, the familiar comfort of a world you understand.

The hum of conversation from the other side of the room feels distant now, muffled by the quiet solace of the snack table. You nibble on the cheese with a soft sigh of relief, the familiar taste grounding you. The wine has a slight sweetness, and it’s just enough to keep you in the moment, away from the chaos of the night. The tension from before starts to melt away, and for a few seconds, you let your mind wander—distracted, content with the quiet rhythm of the evening.

You hum lightly to yourself, just enough to fill the space around you but not enough to draw attention. The world feels a little more manageable from here, and you savor that, the small comfort of solitude. You barely even notice the shift in the air at first—the subtle change in the atmosphere that suggests someone has approached.

It isn’t until you feel it—the shift of warmth beside you—that you glance to your left.

And there he is.

Jungkook. Standing beside you. His presence is so undeniable, so magnetic, that it feels like the rest of the room fades just for a second. He’s close, closer than you anticipated, and the sharp contrast between his energy and the calmness of your little corner hits you all at once. The way he stands, so comfortably in his own skin, his posture relaxed but undeniably confident—it makes everything else around you seem smaller.

You freeze for a moment, caught off guard, your mouth still full of cheese. You’ve barely swallowed when his voice breaks through the moment, teasing, light. “I think you’re the first person here not begging for my attention,” he says with a sly smile, his eyes glinting with amusement.

For a split second, you almost choke—cheese threatening to go down the wrong way—but you manage to swallow, your throat suddenly tight with nerves. You cough lightly, your cheeks flushing instantly at the way his words sink in. Begging for his attention? You weren’t begging for anything. You hadn’t even expected to be noticed by him at all.

You look up at him, trying to compose yourself, but the sudden proximity makes everything feel a little too overwhelming. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the flush spreading across your face, but you don’t dare look away from him. Not with him so close, his smile like a direct challenge to your calm.

He’s even more striking up close—everything you’d caught from a distance now amplified. The faintest trace of cologne drifts in the air, something fresh and woodsy, like a walk through a forest after the rain—sharp, clean, and oddly comforting. His scent clings to the space around you, making it feel like he belongs in this small, intimate moment with you. It’s not overwhelming, but it’s enough to make your pulse race in a way you don’t expect.

His face is sharp, defined in a way that makes you almost forget to breathe. His jawline is strong, perfectly sculpted. But it’s his eyes—those big, dark eyes that hold you, flickering with mischief—that draw you in completely. They’re intense, like he’s looking right through you, and yet there’s an ease to him, a calmness that contrasts the usual intensity of his presence. The smile on his lips is soft, almost like he’s amused by something only he knows.

His racing suit is open at the collar, the fabric still tight enough around his shoulders to highlight the muscle beneath. You can see the tattoos again, this time more defined in the soft light—the intricate designs that snake down his hands and wrists, the way they seem to tell stories of places he’s been, people he’s known. They make him feel untouchable, like someone who belongs to a world you don’t understand.

But what really gets to you, what truly stops you for a moment, is the way he stands so effortlessly. There’s no pretense, no act. It’s just Jungkook—confident, unbothered, and entirely himself. And you, the shy, reserved woman who doesn’t know how to even respond to the comment he just made, find yourself completely at a loss.

You chew the inside of your cheek, still trying to compose yourself, and force a smile, but it’s a weak one, barely holding up under the weight of his gaze. “I—I wasn’t really—” You clear your throat, still feeling a little breathless. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore anyone.”

His grin widens, like he’s amused by the awkwardness you’re trying to hide. “No harm done,” he says, his voice low, warm, and entirely too captivating. The way he looks at you, almost like he’s studying you, makes it hard to focus on anything but the feeling of his presence beside you.

In that moment, you realize you’re standing far too close to him. You take a small step back, trying to maintain some sense of space, but the tension between you feels electric, sparking in the quiet gap that’s now between you. His gaze never wavers, though.

There’s a beat of silence between you, one that stretches just long enough for you to feel every little awkward movement, every small shift in your body. You can feel the heat still lingering in your cheeks, but you try to focus on the moment at hand—on the cheese, at least. It’s easier that way.

You glance down at the spread, your hand reaching out without thinking, grabbing another small wedge of cheese, and offering it to him. You can’t help it. It feels like something you should do, a simple gesture to fill the space and keep things light.

“Would you like some?” you ask, your voice far quieter than you’d like it to be. You hold the piece of cheese out toward him, your hand trembling just slightly at the edge of the plate.

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to the cheese for a moment, and then back to you. His lips twitch upward in an amused smile, the kind that seems to reach his eyes as well, making them sparkle in the soft light. He raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his gaze.

“No thanks,” he says, his tone warm and playful. “I’m good.”

You nod, feeling a little foolish but trying to brush it off. “Right, of course. You’ve probably had enough to eat before this with all the racing... and the shaking hands,” you add with a faint, awkward laugh, hoping it will hide the embarrassment that’s suddenly crawling up your neck.

The words hang in the air for a moment, and you can feel his gaze still lingering on you—intense, curious, like he’s trying to figure you out. You shift uncomfortably, biting your lip, trying to think of an excuse to slip away. Your mind races, trying to find the perfect moment to exit without drawing too much attention to your awkwardness.

“So, uh…” You clear your throat, trying to sound casual, but the nervousness makes it impossible. “I should probably—uh—get back to my clients.” You take a small step back, but Jungkook doesn’t make it easy. He doesn’t move, doesn’t make any effort to let you go. Instead, he just smiles wider, watching you with that same unshakable intensity.

“You sure?” he asks, almost like he’s genuinely intrigued. His voice drops a little, softer now, but still playful. “You’re not leaving because of me, are you?”

Your cheeks burn again. You wish there was a hole in the floor you could crawl into. Why is he so intense?

“No, no, I just—” You stumble over your words. “Just… a lot of work. You know.” You laugh nervously, but it sounds like something forced, something too hollow.

You can feel the weight of the conversation press in on you, like the walls are closing in with each passing second. You offer a tight smile, hoping it’s convincing. “It was nice talking to you, though. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

You take another small step back, but Jungkook leans in just a little, his voice low enough that it feels like it’s just for you, a private joke between the two of you.

“You know,” he begins, his smile still tugging at his lips, “you’re the first person I’ve met tonight who hasn’t been totally starstruck by me. It’s… kind of refreshing.”

His gaze flickers down to the cheese again, and you see the teasing glint in his eyes. It’s like he’s playing a game, but you’re still trying to catch up.

You glance at the plate again, trying to avoid his gaze. “Well, I wouldn’t want to be too obvious about it,” you say with a nervous laugh, hoping your attempt at humor doesn’t come off completely awkward. “I mean, it’s just cheese.”

Jungkook laughs, and it’s a warm, low sound that seems to make the air around you feel a little lighter. You look up to see that he’s still watching you, his eyes filled with that same curiosity.

You swallow, still feeling the heat of your blush, trying to keep your composure. “I—uh, I’ll let you get back to your…” You glance around the room, trying to find something to distract yourself with. “Fans,” you finish lamely, gesturing vaguely to the women still surrounding him.

He raises an eyebrow, amused, as if your attempt to pull away is both endearing and mildly amusing. “Right. Fans.”

You take another step back, your hand instinctively reaching for your glass of wine, though it’s still mostly full. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you as you start to turn away, but you don’t look back. You can’t. If you do, you’re afraid you’ll never escape this moment with him.

Social interactions were never your strong suit. Better luck next time.

You slip away from the table, but as you move through the crowd, you can’t quite shake the feeling that Jungkook’s presence is following you. You make your way to the group of clients, trying to dive back into the sea of business chatter, but your mind keeps drifting. You catch yourself glancing around the room, as if waiting for something—anything—to pull your attention away from the chaos of the evening.

And then, of course, there’s the unmistakable sound of chatter about Jungkook, quiet but deliberate. You don’t need to turn around to know who won’t shut up—Nari.

She’s yapping away to some of your colleagues, other girls you work with that are swept up by Jungkook. There’s a few moments where you wonder if you should join, take some time to yourself to listen in on what they have to say about him, but you hold yourself back.

You end up spending more time burying yourself in the crowd, talking to any man who has ears. After all, your boss and you were managing the largest merger of the year and it would be incredibly irresponsible not to focus on the task at hand.

However, after twenty minutes of empty conversations and nothing getting you closer to your goal, you excuse yourself to go to the restroom and freshen up.

On your way, you discreetly look around for Jungkook—not like you care, but just out of curiosity. As any sane person would do.

You sigh quietly to yourself, shuffling towards the restroom. As you walk down the hallway, you see a buff figure walking towards you. It really is quite dark in the hallway, they should really—Ah fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Sirens are going off in your head like someone’s under arrest. But it’s too late. He’s already there.

He stops in front of you, blocking your path to the bathroom. “Leaving the snack table so soon?” Jungkook’s voice is light, but there’s something about it that still makes your heart skip a beat. He is close enough for you to feel his presence but not so close that it feels suffocating. His tone is playful, teasing, as if he’s aware of how you’re trying to avoid him.

“I thought you were just getting started with the cheese,” he adds, his lips curling into that mischievous smile again.

You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone can save you, your expression betraying nothing but a slight flicker of embarrassment. “I, uh… I had to get back to my clients.” Your voice is quieter now, more measured, the words leaving your mouth carefully. You try to stay calm, despite the heat still rushing to your face. “You’ve got plenty of people to talk to, though.”

Jungkook doesn’t seem to be deterred. He leans in slightly, his smile widening, but his gaze softens just enough that you notice the change. “Not everyone, though.” He pauses, his eyes briefly scanning over you. “Everyone else is... well, they’re all talking to me, but no one’s really listening, you know? It’s not the same.”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain your composure. “I’m not sure what to say.”

“No worries,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal, the hint of something more vulnerable flashing in his eyes for just a moment. “I’ll talk. You don’t have to.”

There’s a slight playfulness there, but also something more genuine in the way he’s looking at you now. “I’m just curious. You don’t seem like you’re here for all this. The whole… racing thing.”

You blink, surprised by his perceptiveness. “I’m here for work,” you say, your voice almost reflexive. You don’t know why you feel the need to justify it, but you do. It’s who you are. It’s what you do.

Jungkook’s eyes remain on you, his curiosity still simmering beneath the surface. He doesn’t push, but there’s a quiet persistence in his gaze. “That’s fair,” he says, nodding. “But you know, sometimes... people miss out on the good stuff when they’re too focused on work.”

You can’t help but laugh lightly, though it feels slightly awkward. “I’m not really one for distractions.”

He smirks, eyes dancing with amusement. “I wouldn’t call me a distraction,” he says, voice lowering ever so slightly. “More like… a different perspective.”

You hesitate, unsure of how to respond. Something about the way he’s looking at you makes the air feel thick, but not uncomfortable—just charged with that same curiosity that keeps you on edge. But the last thing you want to do is make things more complicated than they already are.

“I’m not—” You stop yourself, realizing you’re just rambling now. “I’m not really someone who… stands out.” The words slip out before you can stop them, but as soon as they do, you regret it. You want to take them back.

“Hm,” He whispers, leaning in and looking around like he’s sharing a secret with you. “I disagree.”

And with that, he turns on his heel, brushes past you, and disappears back into the room of investors and financial advisors.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It’s a slow Saturday, the kind that moves at its own pace, unbothered by the rush of the world. You savor days like this—quiet, predictable, wrapped in the small comforts of your routine. Grocery shopping, yoga, a few errands. Nothing extraordinary, nothing chaotic. Just peaceful.

You hum softly to yourself as you push your cart down the aisle, scanning the shelves for the last few things on your list. The fluorescent lights above hum just as softly, the occasional beep of a barcode scanner echoing somewhere in the distance.

Your grocery store isn’t a grand, upscale market—it’s just the one closest to your apartment, the same one you’ve been going to for years. It’s the cutest little shop, nothing like those expensive groceries in the middle of the city. You’ve never even spotted a celebrity here, despite Seoul being a city where that should be possible. But that’s fine with you. You prefer the anonymity, the ability to mind your business in your leggings and oversized hoodie, hair barely tamed into a ponytail.

You reach for a box of cereal, standing on your tiptoes to grab it from the top shelf. But the moment your fingers brush against it, disaster strikes.

A domino effect.

One box tips, then another, and before you can react, an entire row of brightly colored cereal boxes comes tumbling down in an avalanche of poor balance and regret.

You yelp softly, scrambling to catch at least one of them, but your coordination fails you miserably. The boxes hit the ground in a loud thud, rolling slightly before settling in a messy pile at your feet.

You stare at the disaster, your brain short-circuiting as you try to decide whether to pretend it never happened or make a run for it. But then—

A low chuckle.

A very familiar chuckle.

A chuckle you heard less than 24 hours ago.

You freeze, your entire body stiffening before you slowly turn your head.

And there, standing way too close in your very normal, very not-celebrity-worthy grocery store, is Jeon Jungkook.

Holding a carton of almond milk and pushing a cart full of groceries.

Dressed in a black hoodie, sweatpants, and a backward cap, looking annoyingly good for a man just trying to buy groceries.

You blink, convinced you’re hallucinating. This can’t be real. Why is he here? Why is Jeon Jungkook grocery shopping like a normal person, in your store, might you add?

His grin widens when your eyes meet, pure amusement lighting up his face. “We have to stop meeting like this,” he muses, crouching down to pick up one of the fallen cereal boxes. “Or are awkward encounters just your thing?”

Your soul tries to exit your body.

You open your mouth, but no words come out, your brain still struggling to bridge the gap between last night’s VIP suite and this very ordinary grocery store aisle.

“Are you…?” You trail off, because duh, of course he’s him. There’s no mistaking those tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves, the lip piercing catching the light as he smirks at you like you’re the most amusing thing he’s seen all day.

Jungkook tilts his head, as if waiting for you to finish your sentence. When you don’t, he laughs lightly. “Am I what? Grocery shopping? Yeah. Kind of unavoidable if I wanna eat.”

You blink again, your brain still short-circuiting. “I just— I mean, I didn’t think you did normal things like this.”

His grin turns downright mischievous. “What do you think I do? Have groceries magically appear in my fridge?”

You fluster, feeling ridiculous. “Well… kind of?”

He laughs, shaking his head as he hands you one of the cereal boxes. “Nah, I like picking out my own snacks. What if my assistant gets the wrong ones?” His voice dips slightly, playful. “I take my cereal very seriously.”

You let out an exhale, trying to find your footing in this conversation. “I see,” you murmur, glancing down at the boxes scattered around your feet. “Unfortunately, I seem to have tried to kill them all.”

Jungkook lets out a dramatic sigh, crouching again to pick up more. “Tragic. They never stood a chance.” He looks up at you, eyes twinkling. “But hey, you’re consistent. First nearly choking on cheese, now this. What’s next? Knocking over a fruit stand?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please don’t remind me about the cheese.”

“But it was my favorite part,” he teases. “Seeing you all flustered.”

You huff, quickly gathering the rest of the cereal and shoving it back onto the shelf. “I wasn’t flustered.”

Jungkook leans against the cart he just now retrieved, his smirk lazy, knowing. “Mmm.” He doesn’t sound convinced at all.

You clear your throat, desperate to change the subject. “So, um… do you always shop here?”

He shrugs. “It’s close to my place. And quieter than those big department stores. Less people trying to take pictures of me while I buy bananas.”

You stare at him. “People take pictures of you while you buy bananas?”

“Oh, yeah,” he deadpans. “One time, a fan took a picture of my shopping cart and started analyzing what kind of guy I was based on my snack choices.”

Your eyes widen. “And what was the verdict?”

Jungkook sighs. “Apparently, my protein bar choices scream ‘emotionally unavailable.’”

You snort. “Well, they might not be wrong.”

His jaw drops in playful offense. “Wow. And here I thought we were getting along.”

You laugh, feeling yourself relax—until his expression shifts, something softer in his gaze now. He studies you for a moment before speaking.

“I was actually hoping I’d see you again,” he admits, and your stomach flips violently. “You left so fast last night, I didn’t get the chance to ask for your number.”

Your brain short-circuits again. You blink up at him, completely dumbfounded. “Wait. Why would you want my number?”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, amused. “Because I want to text you?”

Your mouth opens, then closes. You struggle to find an answer that makes any sense. “But… why?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

You don’t. Not at all.

The idea that he—a man who could have anyone, a man who’s probably been linked to actresses and models and the kind of women who look like they belong in his world—would want to text you is beyond comprehension.

So you do the only thing you can think of.

You smile politely and say, “I appreciate it, but… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Jungkook blinks, caught off guard for the first time since this conversation started. “Wait. Are you rejecting me?”

You shift uncomfortably, suddenly feeling too warm. “I just… don’t think we’re the kind of people who text each other.”

He looks at you for a long moment before shaking his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You clutch your cart a little tighter. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He exhales, shaking his head like he can’t quite believe what’s happening. Then, with a playful salute, he backs away. “Alright. No number—for now.” He winks. “But I have a feeling this isn’t the last time we’ll run into each other.”

And with that, he disappears down the aisle, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, wondering how on earth your quiet Saturday turned into that.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Monday morning, you find yourself back at your desk, the quiet hum of the office filling the space around you. The excitement of the race lingers, its echoes still vibrating in the air. Clients are still singing your praises in your email inbox, and your boss is smiling more than usual, clearly impressed by the successful merger. For the first time in a while, you feel like you’ve done something right. The buzz of the event, of the energy you felt while navigating the chaos, is a distant memory, but it lingers in a more subtle way—quietly at the back of your mind.

You sip your coffee, staring at the screen in front of you, but your thoughts drift every now and then. The loud office, the steady rhythm of typing, all fades out a little when you remember your Saturday. Jungkook’s smile, his presence... it’s all still there in fragments, playing in your mind. You shake your head, trying to push it down. No need to revisit it. Not now.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Jisoo’s voice breaks through your thoughts, bright and full of energy as always. You look up to see her standing in front of your desk, her hand on her hip and a wide grin on her face. Jisoo, your coworker, your work best friend and polar opposite, always seems to bring light with her wherever she goes. Her laughter is loud, her confidence undeniable. If you had a tenth of her charm, you’d feel unstoppable. But you don’t. And that’s fine. You just admire it from afar, wishing you could be more like her.

She tilts her head, eyeing you for a second. “How was the race Friday night?” she asks, sliding into the chair across from you without waiting for a response. “Clients were probably all over you. Everyone is still talking about it.”

You shrug casually, hiding the way your heart rate picks up at the mention of the event. “It was fine,” you say, keeping your tone neutral. “Same as any other corporate event. Just a lot of small talk.”

Jisoo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Small talk? You saw all those famous drivers. Some of the most handsome guys out there! Bet you had a blast.”

You shake your head with a soft laugh, pushing the thought of Jungkook back where it belongs. “Yeah, it’s not really my scene. The clients were happy, though, so that’s what counts.”

Jisoo leans forward, narrowing her eyes with that playful glint you’ve seen a thousand times before. “Hmm… that totally doesn’t sound convincing. There’s gotta be something interesting that happened. Something crazy? Don’t leave me hanging.”

You feel your cheeks warm just at the thought, but you quickly wave it off, your hands busy shuffling papers on your desk. “Nothing really. Just a lot of racing and cheering.”

Jisoo raises an eyebrow, obviously unconvinced. She glances around, ensuring no one else is within earshot before lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Wait, hold up. Wasn’t that sexy driver Jeon Jungkook there?” She grins widely, like she’s figured out some huge secret.

Your heart stutters for a second, and you try to play it cool. You casually shrug, pretending like you don’t care. “I don’t know. I don’t really keep track of the drivers.” Your voice is light, but inside you’re anything but calm. The heat creeping up your neck betrays you.

Jisoo’s grin only widens, clearly enjoying the moment. “Uh-huh. Sure. I see the way you’re reacting right now. You have a celebrity crush on him, don’t ya?”

You feel the flush in your cheeks deepen, and you quickly take a sip of your coffee, hoping it’ll hide your embarrassment. “I mean... he was there. Yeah.” You try to make it sound like it doesn’t matter, like you didn’t notice the way his presence shifted the energy in the room, but your tone is too soft, too uncertain. Jisoo is practically bouncing in her seat with amusement.

“Uh-huh. And I bet you’re also going to tell me you didn’t catch a glimpse of him at all?” she teases, leaning forward now, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “The guy with the tattoos and the eyebrow piercing? The one who looks like he was born to be the center of attention?”

You swallow, suddenly feeling trapped in your own embarrassment. “Okay, fine,” you admit, trying to shrug it off. “He looked... fine.” Your voice is barely a whisper at the end, and Jisoo bursts out laughing.

“I knew it! You look like you’re ready to faint.” She pauses, grinning like she’s uncovered the biggest secret of the year. “You are totally flustered, and it is adorable.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands for a second, but Jisoo only laughs harder. “Oh, come on! You have to admit—he’s got the whole bad-boy charm down, huh? I mean, who wouldn’t be a little flustered?”

You shake your head, trying to hide your growing smile. “I wasn’t flustered. I just... hate this conversation topic.” Your voice sounds weak even to your own ears, but Jisoo seems to take that as all the confirmation she needs.

“You totally are.” She shakes her head, still grinning. “It’s okay, though. I get it. I mean, we don’t usually meet guys like him in our usual work world.”

You wince slightly, but Jisoo just gives you a wink, clearly teasing but with no malice behind it.

Just as you try to collect your thoughts, to brush off the teasing from Jisoo, your work phone rings, cutting through the tension like a lifeline. You nearly jump out of your seat, grateful for the distraction. Jisoo, ever the playful force of nature, grins even wider, leaning over your desk to grab the phone with a mischievous look in her eyes.

“Hello, this is (Y/N)’s phone,” she says in a mock-serious tone, her fingers tapping at the bobblehead on your desk in time with the words, clearly enjoying herself. “How may we help you today?”

You raise an eyebrow, exasperated but relieved that the attention is off of you for a moment. Jisoo’s antics, as usual, are borderline absurd, but they’re what you need to keep your mind from spiraling. She waves the phone around a little, tossing the bobblehead in the air and catching it again, all while you try to ignore her antics and focus on the tasks at hand.

Then, you hear the voice on the other end. A man’s voice, smooth but businesslike, and it immediately pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Is this (Y/N) (L/N)?” the voice asks, formal and crisp.

You freeze, blinking at Jisoo as she gives you a confused look. You didn’t expect a work call at this hour. You rip the phone out of her hand. “Uh, yes, this is (Y/N),” you say hesitantly, wondering who it could be. You didn’t recognize the voice, and the formal tone sets off a strange feeling in your stomach.

“Great,” the man continues, not missing a beat. “I’m calling on behalf of Jeon Jungkook. You may have met him in the VIP box at the racing event on Friday.”

For a brief second, the world seems to tilt. You hear the words “Jeon Jungkook” and your mind goes blank. The name registers, but everything around you suddenly feels a little… fuzzy. Jungkook? Why would he be calling you? Better yet, how the fuck did this dude get your work number?

Before you even realize what you’re doing, you slam the phone down, your heart racing in your chest. The noise of it hitting the receiver echoes in your ears like a deafening gong.

Jisoo’s eyes go wide, her playful demeanor completely wiped off her face. “What was that??” she asks, leaning back in her chair with raised eyebrows, clearly confused and a little amused.

You stare at the phone for a moment, unsure of what just happened. The shock is settling in, but you’re still stuck on the absurdity of the call. Was this some kind of joke? You slowly pick the phone back up, your voice soft and shaky. “Sorry, I’m here,” you say, clearly flustered. “What… what was that about?”

The man’s voice comes back, just as calm and formal as before. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Jungkook’s manager. He wanted to get to know you better, and I’m calling to see if you’d be open to that. Maybe you could meet with him sometime?”

You freeze again. You can barely process the words. This doesn’t make sense. Why on earth would Jungkook, the famous race car driver, want to meet you? You’re literally just a girl, the quiet one who barely makes waves. The idea of it is almost laughable.

You’re aware that Jisoo has been silently watching you the entire time, her eyes locked on the phone with a curious, mischievous glint. Her hand hovers near the receiver, waiting for you to react. You feel her gaze on you, but your brain is too overwhelmed to process much else.

“Uh, what?” You barely whisper it, as though saying it aloud would make it real. Your voice is barely a sound, and yet the words hang in the air like a strange invitation that you never asked for.

The man on the phone continues, his voice still calm, but you can hear the faintest note of uncertainty. “Sorry, I know this might be weird. It could be a casual hangout, nothing too formal. He just wanted to know if that’s something you might be interested in.”

Your mind is whirling. This is not happening. This is too much. You’re just trying to make a living, trying to do your job. You’re not someone who would—could—be on Jungkook’s radar. Why would he be interested in you?

Before you can make any decision, before you can even properly process the insanity of the situation, Jisoo, ever the opportunist, rips the phone from your hand. “Hello?” she says cheerfully, clearly not noticing your state of shock. “I’d love to meet with him. When would he be free?”

She’s already grinning like a Cheshire cat, and without missing a beat, she adds, “Oh, and you can just text the details to me. Thanks.”

She gives the man your cell number.

You stare at her in disbelief as she hangs up, completely unaware of your growing panic. Jisoo looks up from the phone with a broad grin. “There! It’s all taken care of. I’m sure Jungkook will be thrilled to meet you.”

You blink, trying to process what just happened. “Jisoo, no! I don’t—” You feel a knot form in your stomach. “Why did you do that? I don’t even know what’s going on! This is insane!”

She shrugs, still smiling. “You’re welcome! Don’t worry, you’ll thank me later when you’re hanging out with Jeon Jungkook. Why the fuck are you not ecstatic right now?”

You can’t find the words to explain how out of your depth you feel right now. You wanted no part in this, no entanglements with a race car driver, especially one as out of reach as Jungkook.

You sit there, in stunned silence, trying to get a grip on what just happened. Jungkook’s manager—his manager—called you.

Jisoo’s grin only widens as she watches your face slowly turn a deeper shade of red. She leans back in her chair, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s just set in motion. “I just gave you a golden opportunity, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook is going to be head over heels for you in no time.”

You bury your face in your hands for a moment, overwhelmed by the rush of it all. “Jisoo, I don’t—this is insane! Why would he be interested in me? I don’t even know how to talk to people at these events. I literally choked on cheese in front of him.”

Jisoo laughs loudly, drawing the attention of a couple of nearby coworkers. “Oh please,” she says with a dramatic eye roll, clearly not buying it. “Clearly, you’ve got this whole I’m just a little scared shy girl thing going on, and you’re the only person who isn’t swooning over him. That’s what makes you so intriguing. You’re sooo chill about everything.”

She smirks, her fingers tapping on the desk. “And let’s be honest, you’re not exactly hard to look at either.”

You nearly choke on your own air at her comment. “Stop it, seriously,” you mutter, trying to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. You’re too embarrassed to even look at her now, feeling like the walls are closing in.

Jisoo watches you with a knowing smile. “I mean, he’s a race car driver, and he’s interested in you,” she says, practically swooning with dramatic flair. “This is like every rom-com plot you could ever dream of! You’re totally going to fall for him, I can already tell.”

You groan, sinking lower into your chair. “This is not a rom-com, Jisoo. It’s a nightmare.”

She leans forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Yeah, well, in the rom-com, the shy girl always ends up with the cool, charming guy, doesn’t she? But instead of running away, you should go for it. Trust me, I’m good at reading these things.”

You look at her, horrified. “I don’t want anything to do with this. I just—he’s not my type. I’m not his type.”

Jisoo scoffs dramatically. “You don’t even know your type! Maybe Jungkook is your type. Have you ever even given it a chance?”

Before you can answer, your cell phone buzzes, pulling you out of the whirlwind conversation. You glance at the phone screen, feeling your heart jump into your throat as you see an unrecognized number pop up.

Your finger hesitates over the screen before you reluctantly swipe to open the message. Your eyes widen as you read the text:

"Hey, it’s Jungkook. Was kinda harder to find you than I thought it would be. Hope you’re okay with my manager calling you, I know that might’ve been weird."

You blink a few times, staring at the message as if it might disappear, but the words remain, taunting you from the screen. Your fingers freeze over your phone, and you can feel your heartbeat accelerate. What in the world is happening?

Jisoo, clearly seeing your reaction, leans in eagerly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh my god, is that him? Is that his text? You have to show me!”

You’re too stunned to respond right away, your face burning as you hold the phone in front of her. She snatches it from your hands without hesitation, her eyes dancing with glee as she reads the message aloud in a dramatic whisper.

She looks up from the screen, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh. My. God.” She says, her voice almost a shriek. “This is so much better than I ever imagined. He’s flirting with you! He literally said he had to find you. Do you know what that means?!”

You shake your head slowly, in total disbelief. “This is too much.”

Jisoo shakes the phone in your face. “No, this is perfect,” she says, barely able to contain her excitement. “You’ve got a race car driver hitting on you! What is wrong with you?”

You close your eyes and press your palms to your forehead. “I don’t know, I’m just... so confused.”

Jisoo stands up, grabbing her own phone from her desk. “You’re going to reply to him, okay? And you’re going to do it now.” She waves her phone around in the air like she’s orchestrating some kind of performance. “This is your chance. You can’t just let it slip away like some boring corporate drone. You need to text him back.”

“Jisoo, I can’t,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know what to say to him. What does he want with me?”

Jisoo looks at you, her eyes wide with exaggerated seriousness. “You’re going to text him, and you’re going to make it clear that you’re not some shy girl who can’t handle a little attention.” She smiles mischievously. “Just text him back. And if you can’t do that, I’ll literally rip the phone from your hand and do it for you.”

You open your mouth to protest, but before you can speak, Jisoo grabs the phone out of your hand and types away at the screen with lightning speed.

“Done,” she says, grinning like a cat who’s caught the canary.

“What did you—” You stop yourself as she quickly hands you the phone. The message has been sent.

You look at her in pure shock. “Jisoo, you didn’t…”

“Oh yes, I did,” she says, practically skipping around your desk. “You’re welcome. Trust me, you’ll thank me later.”

You stare at the message she sent: “Hey! Thanks for reaching out. It wasn’t weird, don’t worry.”

Before you can say anything else, Jisoo gives you a wink and turns to walk back to her desk, completely unfazed by the whirlwind she’s created.

You look down at the phone in your hand, its screen glowing with the weight of a decision you’re not ready to make. The thought of being pulled into a world like Jungkook’s—one filled with chaos, adrenaline, and a dangerous kind of freedom—feels foreign to you, like a path you’re meant to observe from a distance, never walk. You’ve always preferred the quiet, steady hum of the sidelines, watching the world swirl around you without ever getting caught in its current.

Your life, in all its routine and predictability, feels safe, contained. You’ve spent years navigating the corporate world, where the language is numbers, the rules are clear, and nothing is left to chance.

Your ex boyfriend was just like you—someone who understood the rhythms of work, someone who shared your focus on the future, the steady climb up the ladder. People like Jungkook, with their wild tattoos, sharp piercings, and the constant rush of danger, are the antithesis of everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s everything you’ve carefully kept at arm’s length.

But now, here you are—unexpectedly entangled in a world you never asked to be part of, a world that feels as reckless as it is foreign.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

taglist ; @yooniepot @bookstoread199 @pipipipiiiii @someonegoood @vintagemoonsstuff @kittisuuuuu @ttanniett @loonareads @jincapableoflove @jkxlvrr @taekrve @jenniebyrubies @senaqsstuff @somisarchive @somehowukook @mysjammy @busanbby-jjk @mimi1097 @mikrokosmosellen @indyuhhhhh @vantelover1306 @haru-jiminn @sky-23s-world @minimoninini @bighitfics @mellyyyyyyx @outofworldvy @smartkive @dontcallmeelle @beomluvrr

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (3)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Word count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: argument, jungkook is mean, OC is mean. both have high egos.

A/N: part 3 is here <3 i'm having sm fun writing this. also, i got this anonymous ask which stated i was using chat-gpt for my stories. i didn't like the tone of their message so i blocked them. however, i just want to say i have not used chat-gpt for my stories. i take time out of my day to type this story because i really want to put content out there that people might enjoy reading. i want to make stories that i have always wanted to read, but never found. truthfully, i did use chat gpt for the names of a few flowers, plants and bouquet combinations though, because i'm not a professional florist and i have no idea about flowers. i hope that's understandable. anyways, thank u for reading. let me know your thoughts :)

part 3: blooming grudges

The sun is setting, painting the street in hues of orange and pink, but the peace you’re so badly yearning for is shattered by the rumble of motorcycles and boisterous laughter right outside your shop. It’s been a week since Jungkook’s shop had started running and it has surprisingly quickly become a hotspot for bikers to gather in the evenings. The constant noise and chaos spill over into your once-quiet corner of the neighborhood.

You have no idea what they do and what the point of all these gatherings are, but you dread it every single time you hear a bunch of men lounging outside your shop.

As the evening progresses, you’re in the middle of arranging a bouquet when the sharp crash of breaking pottery jolts you out of your work. Heart pounding, you glance outside and see one of Jungkook’s biker friends near the sidewalk through your window. Still confused, you stand up and storm out to see what the hell had happened.

Anger surges through your veins as you spot the man casually standing there as if he didn’t just knock over one of your handmade ceramic pots off the display stand that was right outside your shop. “What the hell is wrong with you??!!?!” you snap, glaring at the man and then at the jagged pieces of your pot just lying there, near his feet.

The biker barely spares you a glance, shrugging nonchalantly. “Relax. It’s just a pot.” he says.

“Just a pot?” you repeat, your voice rising. “Do you have any idea how much time and effort went into that? Or do you only care about things you can rev or ride?” you feel your heart thumping as your anger skyrockets.

Before the man can respond, Jungkook suddenly steps out of the crowd near his shop. His leather jacket gleams in the fading light, and his dark eyes flicker to the broken pot before landing on you. “What’s going on?” he questions, his voice low and calm, but there’s an edge of warning to it.

You point at the shards of pottery. “What’s going on? One of your friends just broke my pot and doesn’t even have the decency to apologize!” Jungkook looks at his friend, who just shrugs, then back at you. “It was an accident.” he dismisses, his tone clipped. “I’ll pay for it.” he continues and you watch his friend just leave the scene, completely unbothered.

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pay for it? Do you think that solves everything? This isn’t just about the pot, Jungkook. Every night, this street turns into a circus because of your shop. My customers can’t park anymore, and now your friends are trashing my things.” you begin, moving your hands as you speak, unable to remain calm anymore.

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer. “Look, I’m sorry about the pot, but don’t act like I’m the reason your shop isn’t doing well. Maybe it’s not the noise. Maybe people just don’t care about overpriced flowers.”

Your breath catches, his words cutting deeper than you expect. “Wow,” you say, your voice trembling with anger. “You really think you’re better than everyone, don’t you? Just because you’ve got your flashy bikes and your little gang of followers?” you ignore the way your heart twitches at how he had just disrespected you and your business.

His expression hardens. “Better than everyone? No. But at least I’m not the one blaming other people for my problems. You’re so focused on what’s wrong with my shop, but maybe the issue isn’t me. Maybe it’s you.”

Your fists clench at your sides. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been here for years, building this business from the ground up. And you waltz in, turning this neighborhood into a mess, and act like you’re doing everyone a favor?” you see red as you fight with him, unable to contain the flow of words that are spilling out of your mouth.

Jungkook’s voice sharpens and he doesn’t hold back. “You think I don’t work hard? That I haven’t sacrificed everything to make this shop work? You don’t know anything about me. But sure, keep throwing stones from your little glass house.” he counters harshly.

“Oh so you can say anything about my business, but i can’t? You can talk about me like you know me, but i can’t?” There’s venom in your voice as you argue and Jungkook clenches his jaw, trying to calm himself down.

The tension between the two of you is suffocating and each word cuts like a blade. As an awkward silence fills the air, you shake your head. “You’re unbelievable.” you breathily say. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” you add.

“And you...” he fires back, “care so much about your damn shop that you can’t see past your own damn ego.” You look at him with your lips parted, unable to come up with a comeback. You feel your eyes sting and nothing makes sense anymore. You hate it here. You hate him.

Before you can respond, one of the bikers calls out to Jungkook, and he turns away, his shoulders tense. He doesn’t bother looking back at you and just leaves.

Fuming, you crouch down to pick up the broken shards of your pot. Your hands tremble as you scoop up the jagged pieces, and a sharp piece slices right through your finger. You hiss, dropping the shard as blood wells up from the cut. Your eyes tear up as you watch your finger bleed. You were so done with this man and his stupid shop.

Ignoring the sting, you finish cleaning up and head back inside, pressing a tissue to your finger. You flip the sign on your door, deciding to call it a day since you weren’t really in the mood to face any new customers. You retreat to your counter, where you slump into your chair, frustrated, exhausted and seething.

//

Inside Throttle and Torque, the atmosphere is much quieter, now that the bikers have left. Jungkook leans against the counter, his expression stormy as he thinks of the interaction he had with you 4 hours ago. Yoongi, Jimin, and Hoseok sit nearby, watching him with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.

“You look like you’re about to punch something.” Jimin says, breaking the silence. Jungkook scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s that flower shop owner again. She’s impossible.”

“Y/N?” Hoseok grins. “What did she do this time?” he questions. Jungkook glares at him. “One of the guys broke her pot, and she went off like it was the end of the world. Then she starts blaming me for everything—says I’m ruining the whole street. Like it’s my fault her shop isn’t getting customers.” he speaks, his tone filled with annoyance.

“Isn’t it, though?” Jimin teases, earning a sharp look from Jungkook. Yoongi, raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like there’s more to it than just a pot.” he states.

“She doesn’t get it hyung...” Jungkook says, his voice growing louder. “She acts like she’s the only one who works hard, like I haven’t busted my ass to get this place running. And then she has the nerve to call me selfish? Like she knows anything about me.”

“Sounds like she hit a nerve.” Hoseok snorts, a smirk on his face. “Shut up,” Jungkook mutters, but the irritation in his voice betrays him. “She thinks she’s so perfect, but all she does is complain. It’s like she’s looking for reasons to hate me.” he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe she is.” Yoongi says, his tone thoughtful. “Or maybe you’ve already given her enough reasons to hate you.” he continues. The room falls silent, and Jungkook scoffs, pushing off the counter. “Whatever. She’s not worth it.” he dismisses, not wanting to think of you or the raging encounter he just had with you.

//

the next day; The morning sun spills through the large windows of your flower shop as you rearrange a fresh batch of chrysanthemums. Despite the beautiful blooms around you, there’s a heaviness in your heart. Last night’s argument with Jungkook replays in your mind, his sharp words still stinging.

The little bell above the door jingles, pulling you out from your trance. You turn to see a man walking in—a face you recognize from the group that always lingers outside Jungkook’s shop and sometimes with him as well. “Hi.” he says, his voice calm but kind. “Y/N, right?”

You blink in surprise. “Yeah… and you’re one of Jungkook’s friends, i suppose.” you say, moving away from the flowers as dry your hands on your apron. You notice how his eyes fall on the bandage wrapped around your finger, so you quickly hide it by crossing your arms over your chest. He pretends like he’s seen nothing and nods, his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I’m Yoongi. I came here because I wanted to talk to you, if you don’t mind.” he says, his voice tender.

Your instinct is to put up a wall, but something about his tone disarms you. “If this is about last night—”

“It is.” Yoongi interrupts gently. “But not in the way you think.” He steps closer, his gaze steady but non-threatening. “I’m here to apologize. On behalf of Jungkook. And… the idiot who broke your pot.”

You blink again, caught off guard. “You’re apologizing? Why?” you gulp, something about this, not sitting right with you. “Because he won’t.” Yoongi says with a faint smile, though his tone carries a hint of seriousness. “Jungkook’s stubborn. He knows he messed up, but he’s too proud to admit it outright. And, well, someone has to try to make things right.” he admits, blinking his eyes.

Yoongi observes your expression, noticing how you still look quite unconvinced. His face softens as he continues. “Jungkook’s not a bad guy, Y/N. He just… rough around the edges. Give him time. He doesn’t always know how to handle things. He gets defensive when he feels cornered.”

“Cornered?” you echo, frowning. “I wasn’t cornering him. I just wanted some peace.” you defend yourself. “I know.” Yoongi agrees. “And I think, deep down, he knows it too. But he’s been under a lot of pressure with the shop, and sometimes he lashes out without meaning to. Not that it excuses anything.” he adds quickly. “You didn’t deserve what he said. Or how he treated you. ”

His honesty surprises you, and for the first time, you feel a part of the weight lift off from your chest. “Why are you telling me this?” you suddenly ask, eyeing him even though, deep down you’re trying your best to believe everything this man says.

“Because I think you’re both better than this petty back-and-forth... interactions.” Yoongi says simply, shrugging. “And maybe, if you understand where he’s coming from, it’ll help. Or not. I don’t know. I just thought you deserved an actual apology, even if it’s not from him directly.” he finishes, flashing you a small, kind smile.

For a moment, you’re silent, processing his words. Then, to your own surprise, you smile faintly. “You’re a good friend, Yoongi.” you softly say, earning a chuckle from him as he scratches the back of his neck. “Someone’s gotta keep him in check.” he grins.

After a moment, he steps back towards the door, pausing before leaving. “Take care, Y/N. And if he steps out of line again, let me know. I’ll knock some sense into him.” he nods at you and you laugh lightly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “I’ll keep that in mind.” you say, waving at him.

//

Jungkook sits on the edge of the counter, a wrench in hand, intently focused as he works while Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi lounge around. The conversation flows between them, lighthearted at first, until Yoongi brings up his visit to your shop.

“So....” Yoongi begins casually, “I stopped by Y/N’s shop today.” he says. Jungkook freezes for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “What for?” he asks, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“To apologize.” Yoongi replies, leaning back in his chair. “On your behalf. Figured someone had to.” he adds. Jimin snickers, while Hoseok whistles low. “Apologizing for Jungkook? That’s new.” he laughs as Jimin gives him a high five.

“Very funny.” Jungkook mutters, but his attention stays on Yoongi. “What’d she say?” he questions and Yoongi shrugs. “She wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear your name, but we talked. She’s not as tough as she seems, you know. She’s just… tired. Your shop and the noise—it’s really messing with her.” he explains calmly.

Jungkook doesn’t reply, his jaw tightening. “And she’s hurt, by the way.” Yoongi adds, his tone sharper. “I noticed her hand. I guess she cut her finger while picking up the broken pieces of the pot your friend broke yesterday.” he explains.

The guilt that had been simmering in Jungkook since last night, suddenly boils over. “Why didn’t she say anything?” he snaps, more to himself than to his friends. “Maybe because you were too busy arguing with her to notice,” Yoongi retorts, his voice calm but firm. “She’s not your enemy, Jungkook. Stop treating her like one.” he says gently, hoping the younger one understands.

The room goes quiet, the weight of Yoongi’s words settling over them. Jimin and Hoseok exchange a glance, sensing the tension. Jungkook exhales heavily, tossing the wrench aside. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” he admits quietly. “I just—” He stops, frustration lacing his voice.

“You don’t know how to back down,” Jimin finishes for him, a teasing edge to his tone. Jungkook glares at him but doesn’t deny it. Instead, he leans back against the counter, running a hand through his hair. “What else did she say to you?” he questions Yoongi. He smirks slightly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he asks, wiggling his brows.

Jungkook’s glare intensifies, and Yoongi chuckles. “Relax. She was civil. We just talked about you a little and that’s all. She thinks I’m the ‘good friend,’ by the way.” he smiles to himself.

The comment makes Jungkook’s stomach churn with something he doesn’t want to name—guilt, jealousy, maybe both. He stays quiet as the others laugh, his thoughts swirling.

He’s messed up, and he knows it. And now, the thought of you opening up to someone else, even Yoongi, twists something deep inside him. For the first time, he wonders if the damage he’s caused can ever be repaired.

//

It’s just another day—or at least you hope it will be. After the pot-breaking incident a week ago, things between you and Jungkook have only grown tenser. Though Yoongi apologized to you on behalf of his actions, you were still very annoyed by the way things still hadn’t changed.

His friends still gather outside his shop in the evenings, their bikes parked so close to your store it’s nearly impossible for customers to walk in without squeezing past them. You’ve been trying to keep your head down, avoiding any unnecessary interaction with Jungkook.

However, despite the ongoing tension you can’t help but notice how hardworking Jungkook is. For a brief moment, you feel a twinge of guilt as you think about the bad blood between you guys. Maybe you need to start putting your differences aside and try to get along with him.

You shake your head, telling yourself not to think about that. You leave that thought for another day, when you’re less busy and have more time to waste.

A new shipment of flowers and pots arrives after about an hour. You’re juggling the chaos of directing the delivery workers when disaster strikes. One of the crates slips from a worker’s hands, scattering flowers and dirt all across the curb—and, unfortunately, onto one of the shiny motorcycles parked outside Jungkook’s shop.

You barely have time to assess the mess before Jungkook storms out. His face is a mask of irritation, and his voice cuts like a blade. “What the hell is this?” he immediately snaps, gesturing at the scattered soil and dirt-streaked bike.

You sigh, already bracing yourself. “It was an accident. We’ll clean it up right away.” you calmly say, knowing damn well this wasn’t something you were about to get to away with. “An accident?” he repeats, his tone laced with disbelief. “You really need to start taking responsibility, Y/N. You can’t just keep saying it’s an accident every time you screw something up.” he angrily says.

Your frustration bubbles over. “Excuse me? This is the first time I’ve caused any inconvenience to you. Meanwhile, your friends park their bikes outside my shop every evening, blocking the entrance, and I don’t say a thing!” you argue.

“Oh, here we go...” Jungkook retorts, his voice rising. “You’re always whining about the bikes. Maybe if you managed your deliveries better, this wouldn’t have happened.” he scoffs loudly.

“Don’t turn this on me!!” you snap, stepping closer. “You act like this street belongs to you and your gang of bikers. Maybe if you had a little consideration for others, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation!” you stomp your feet at the last word, wanting this interaction to just end. But were you going to be the first one to stop? no.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think he might say something even harsher. But he just shakes his head, his expression dark. “You know what? Forget it. Clean up your mess and stay out of my way.” He coldly says as he turns around and walks back into his shop, leaving you standing there with your hands clenched into fists.

//

After the chaos of the day, you’re sitting in your shop long after closing time, staring blankly at the broken pieces of another pot that lays lifeless on a piece of paper on your counter —a casualty of the earlier mishap. You close your eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

Yoongi’s voice echoes in your mind from the other day, when he’d come into your shop to apologize on Jungkook’s behalf after the first pot-breaking incident. “Jungkook’s not a bad guy.” Yoongi had said, his voice calm and reassuring. “He’s just… rough around the edges. Give him time.”

You had wanted to believe him. For a moment, you even thought there might be a chance for you and Jungkook to coexist peacefully. But now? Now you feel stupid for ever entertaining the idea. Jungkook has made it perfectly clear that he has no intention of meeting you halfway.

You sigh, rubbing your face. You didn’t like how this whole thing had been affecting you. It was draining and just sooooo not worth it.

Forcing yourself to get up, you clean up one last time and then proceed to lock up the shop, so that you can finally head home. As you begin your walk home, you notice how the streets are quiet, the faint hum of distant traffic is the only sound accompanying your footsteps.

Your thoughts are heavy, clouded by everything that’s happened. The arguments, the pot-breaking, the way Jungkook’s words today had stung more than you wanted to admit. You wonder if you’re overthinking things, but the lump in your throat says otherwise.

You hug your jacket tighter against the cool night air, eyes focused on the pavement in front of you as you walk briskly towards your house.

//

Jungkook stands outside his shop, ready to lock up he watches you walk down the stairs at your entrance and cross the road, not noticing his presence at all. His chest feels tight, an unfamiliar mix of guilt and something he can’t quite name. He doesn’t like how things escalated today. He doesn’t like the way your voice cracked when you argued with him.

As much as he hates to admit it, he knows he’s been unfair. It wasn’t just about the dirt on the bike or the delivery mishap—it was the way you stood up to him, pointing out how inconsiderate he and his friends had been. You weren’t wrong.

He steps away from his shop, just to get a clearer view of your walking form. He watches intently, observing the way your shoulders are hunched slightly as if the weight of the world rests on them. The sight stirs something protective in him. It’s late, the streets are too quiet, and he knows better than anyone the kind of dangers that can lurk around in the dark.

For a split second, he considers calling out to you so that he can offer you a ride home. But then his pride kicks in, the argument from earlier replaying in his head. His ego won’t let him take that step—not yet.

Instead, Jungkook makes a quick decision. He leaves his bike parked outside his shop, shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and starts following you from a distance. You walk briskly, your mind elsewhere, completely unaware of the quiet footsteps trailing behind you. Jungkook keeps his distance, making sure to stay out of your line of sight.

His gaze scans the dimly lit street, the quiet unnerving even to him. He can’t help but feel protective as he watches your small frame move through the shadowy paths. Every now and then, he glances around, hyper-aware of his surroundings.

He follows you for several blocks, his pace matching yours but always a few steps behind. When you pause to adjust the strap of your bag or check the time on your phone, he stops, leaning casually against a lamppost or pretending to examine something in a shop window.

You finally reach your building, pausing to fumble with your keys at the front door. Jungkook stays back, watching as you disappear inside. Only when he hears the click of the door locking do his shoulders relax slightly. He lets out a long breath, rubbing his nape as he turns to head back towards his shop.

As he walks back, his mind is restless. He thinks he’s ridiculous for following you all the way home just to make sure you reach safely. “Why do you care so much?” he mutters to himself, kicking a loose pebble on the sidewalk. But he already knows the answer, even if he’s not ready to admit it.

When he finally reaches his shop, his bike still waiting where he left it, Jungkook glances once more in the direction of your shop. A strange mixture of guilt and something warmer lingers in his chest. He doesn’t know what to do about it, so he just sighs, climbs onto his bike, and decides to head home.

While he rides back home that night, a quiet resolve settles in his chest—a growing realization that maybe, just maybe, he owes you more than just a silent apology.

<- part 2 // part 4->

[kiwriteswords]

If we're talking angst with Aaron Hotchner, I feel like a miscarriage would do good to break his heart (if you're comfortable writing such a heavy topic, of course!)

No words appear before me in the aftermath [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 1k|| AN: Well, this took an emotional toll! Sort of inspired by the scene in Grey's Anatomy with Meredith Grey! Also, peep the new 'taglist' banner! I really like how it turned out!

Tags/Warnings: miscarriage, pregnancy, angst, blood, traumatic event, canon typical events, canon typical themes, canon typical language, BAU team member reader, established relationship, hurt/comfort, concerned Derek, concerned, Spencer, concerned Rossi

Summary: "Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. You were bigger than the whole sky. You were more than just a short time. I've got a lot to pine about. I've got a lot to live without. I'm never gonna meet, what could've been, would've been, what should've been you."

In the muted light, the BAU team maneuvered through the abandoned warehouse, their breaths visible in the chill air. Aaron Hotchner led with the precision of a seasoned commander, his eyes scanning for danger; his heart, however, remained anchored to you. 

His partner in every sense. 

Despite being married for some time now, the thrill of working alongside you never waned. The team admired your synergy, the seamless dance of mutual respect, and whispered strategies. You bettered each other and for that? The team was grateful. 

As gunfire erupted, chaos threaded through the precision. Aaron commanded, "Cover! Now!" 

His voice was the calm in the storm, but his gaze instinctively sought you out. You moved with practiced ease, though your face was pale.

The exchange of bullets echoed a grim symphony. Spencer and Derek flanked you, moving as one unit. But as the final shot silenced the night, halting the unsub, a different, sharper silence fell over you. 

Clutching your side, you staggered slightly, the color drained from your face not just from exertion but from pain--a deep, gnawing pain that didn't come from any bullet. Your knees felt weak; a sour taste filled your mouth. 

The physical manifestation of your emotional turmoil was evident in your trembling hands and the way your body seemed to sag under the weight of the news. 

"Derek, check her!" Spencer's voice cracked through the tension, his youthful face lined with worry.

Derek approached, his brow furrowed. "You're bleeding... a lot. Were you hit?" His question hung heavy in the cold air.

You shook your head, moisture glossing your eyes, not from the icy wind but from a storm within. "No, I... it's not that."

Across the warehouse, Aaron knelt beside the subdued unsub, his duty momentarily anchoring him to the spot. But his eyes were locked on you, sensing the distress in Derek's tone. The local PD was moving in, ready to take over, allowing Aaron the space to be not just a unit chief but a concerned husband. His responsibilities as a leader momentarily set aside, he moved towards you, his focus narrowing to the palpable tension surrounding you.

As Aaron approached, he noticed the stark contrast of the blood against your clothing, and his heart skipped a beat. The scene around him: the flashing lights, the murmur of the police radios, all faded into a blur. 

Only you and your pain remained sharply in focus.

Always keenly observant, Rossi stepped in, his voice gentle yet urgent. "What’s going on?" he asked, looking from you to Aaron, sensing the shift in the air.

The question was too much. The weight of the secret you harbored now bled out in more ways than one. "Stop," you whispered, the single word a dam against your breaking heart. Your eyes met Aaron’s, and in them, he read a thousand chapters of a story you hadn’t yet told him. Miscarriage. The word stood unspoken, a ghost between you. The pain of loss, the fear of the unknown, and the struggle to communicate it all, hung heavy in the air.

You turned away, a lone figure against the backdrop of flashing police lights, walking away from the puddles that mirrored your desolation. Aaron stood frozen, his instincts as a unit chief battling his instincts as a husband. The words to command, to comfort, eluded him.

Seeing Aaron's hesitation, Rossi placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Aaron, she needs you now more than the team does." His voice was low, filled with understanding and a somber recognition of the personal stakes involved.

Spencer, who had hung back, now stepped forward, his voice hesitant but firm. "She wasn't ready to tell us, Hotch. Maybe... m-maybe she wasn't ready to tell anyone yet?" 

Derek, still close by, looked between you and Aaron, regret coloring his tone. "Hotch, I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was..." His voice trailed off, unsure of how much had been understood, how much had been shared.

"Neither did I." Aaron's voice broke, a rare crack in his armor. He hadn’t known about the baby, about the hope you had nurtured silently. Now, all he could see was the future unspooling, threads of joy unraveled into grief. His internal conflict, torn between his role as a leader and his desire to comfort you, was palpable.

The team huddled in a tableau of shared sorrow, the strong men of the BAU grappling with a pain they couldn’t shield you from. As you distanced yourself, the space between you and Aaron felt like miles. He wanted to chase after you, to erase the hurt, but his feet were rooted, his role uncertain, his heart heavy with the shared pain.

He finally found you in the women’s bathroom at the local precinct, the tiles and walls reflecting a cold he couldn’t shake Locking the door behind him, he stood inside. 

You were at the sink, changed from your original clothes into one he recognized as back up from your go-bag. 

Your hands mechanically scrubbing under the relentless stream of water, each motion a futile attempt to cleanse away the tragedy that had stained the day. Stained this chapter in your life.

Water pooled around the drain tinged with a heartbreak that soap couldn’t wash away. 

Your focus was laser-sharp on the pink-tinted water, a cruel reminder of the life that was slipping away from you. Aaron paused at the door, the sight of you grappling alone with your pain tightening his chest.

“Let’s take a minute,” he said gently, his voice a soft contrast to the harsh fluorescent lighting. His words seemed to hover in the humid air, too heavy to immediately absorb.

You didn’t look up, your hands moving to your stained clothes, spot-cleaning the blood that had marked it. The fabric absorbed your focus, your fingers scrubbing rhythmically.

It was a task, something you could control when everything else seemed to unravel. 

“I need to get more jeans for my go-bag,” You said as if it was just an item on your to-do list. As if there wasn’t a life-altering moment happening right before your very eyes.

Aaron moved closer, his reflection ghosting beside yours in the mirror, a shared image of both solidarity and separation. “You don’t have to do this right now,” he murmured, reaching a tentative hand toward your shoulder.

The contact startled you, a lifeline you hadn’t realized you were waiting for. Your eyes met his in the mirror--windows fogged with unshed tears. 

“I need to clean this up,” you insisted, your voice as thin as the paper towels you now snatched up, blotting the damp clothes.

He watched the deliberate way you avoided your reflection, focusing only on the stains you could fight. “You’re not alone in this,” Aaron assured you, his tone threaded with the promise to hold together the pieces of a shared dream that had shattered silently.

The paper towels piled up. Crimson. “I was going to tell you…I wanted to tell you…,” you finally admitted, the words spilling out like the water you couldn’t stop. “A-After the case...”

The confession hung between you, a delicate truth that now lay bare in the most unforgiving of lights. 

Aaron reached for your hands, stilling them. “Let’s just sit for a moment. Together,” he suggested, guiding you away from the sink, away from the relentless reminder of loss.

You allowed him to lead you to a small bench in the corner, the cold of the tile seeping through your clothes, a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand covering yours. Side by side, you sat in a silence that spoke volumes, your breaths syncing in a slow, shared cadence.

Aaron looked at you, really looked. 

Not as a unit chief or a husband seeking to fix things but as a partner sharing in the rawness of the moment. 

“We don’t have to go back out there today,” he said softly, an anchor in the fluidity of grief.

You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder. The fight to stay composed ebbing away. 

In the quiet of that sterile space, you found a haven, a shared solitude that didn’t push for answers or action, just presence. He’d always had this effect on you. 

“We both wanted this so much." Your voice just above a whisper. 

Aaron nodded, his cheek resting atop your head. "I know," he murmured. His heart ached with the weight of lost futures. "We wanted it," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, acknowledging not only the pain of the loss but the depth of the shared desire that had been growing between you.

In the reflection of the darkened mirror, the two of you sat, a poignant picture of what strength truly looked like, not in the avoidance of pain but in the willingness to face it. 

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry