#beyond 'oh no my reputation'

[spring-lxcked]

thinking abt the whole michael-as-william's-favorite-kid pre-bite thing again and i think i finally pinned it down

i've mentioned it a million times but he generally sees a lot of himself in michael, and not just appearance-wise. michael is his oldest son, mini-me and that makes him both the favorite and the one who can most easily "fail" william.

i don't know how to explain that michael's attitude @ william as he gets older both pisses william off and reinforces the idea that they're the same.

elizabeth is the second favorite for also having stuff in common with william but ( at least by default / with my portrayal ) she favors elise in both appearance and personality just enough that william resents it. no, he's not self-aware enough to realize this. it doesn't necessarily show via affection, but through other means. literally his only redeeming factor as a parent is that he is capable of affection pre-bite ( and, rarely, post-bite )

( william isn't necessarily mentally ranking his kids to be clear LMAO. he's the type to be like "i don't play favorites" and then he lets michael get away with literally anything so long as it doesn't annoy / anger him. also wanna reiterate a la the last post: being his favorite is a bad thing. literally just being his kid is a bad thing, i'm not implying that one of the kids had it "easier" because i dislike that sentiment )

incredibly incredibly incredibly unpopular opinion but evan is the least favorite and i've always known this abt my william but it's such an uncommon headcanon fdhfkasdhalhf. he is, at least overall, nothing like william. his need for comfort is fine until it's not. like, william will coddle him as the youngest but in the end, he won't put in the necessary effort ( sometimes on purpose because he's "so busy," sometimes because he's obtuse ). at some point he wants evan to just "get over it" and he doesn't hide it well.

the bite obviously complicated everything, so that's a whole other story. something something william thinks his son is violent just like him ( positive to him lmao ) VS michael is traumatized VS william would never have bulllied / harmed his own sister VS michael killed his son ETC ETC ETC. normal family dynamic. where's that edit i made oh right

[fivepebsi]

everyone check him out. my awesome guy

[s0fter-sin]

i’ve been watching yannis marshall choreography for like 15 minutes and i’m back thinking about my dancer au

gaz suggests a pole dancing segment for the music video for price and ghost shuts it down hard, saying he doesn’t do pole. gaz calls him selfish, that he’s just saying no to spite him but ghost holds firm; not even listening to soap as he tries to reason with him and reach a compromise

soap gets to practice early like he always does, just to see ghost blasting another life by motionless in white and doing a flawless pole routine. he’s as mesmerised by him as he always is, such beautiful movements contrasted by the seemingly harsh music, and waits for him to break before teasing, “i thought you said you couldn’t do pole dancin’.”

ghost just wipes the sweat off his face with a towel. he knew he was there

he always knows when soap’s there

“i said i didn’t do pole; not that i couldn’t.”

“what’s stoppin’ you?” soap asks, genuine and innocently curious and it’s the only reason ghost doesn’t completely shut him down

“what ‘bout you?” he asks instead. “ever done pole?”

he shrugs and sets his bag down. “enough to get in a twirl or two. ‘sides, gaz’s better suited to that kinda delicate work.”

“now, that i know is bullshit,” ghost scoffs and soap tenses, expecting him to go off on another rant about his best mate (just like he waits through gaz going off on ghost) but- “i’ve seen your competition tapes; you’re plenty strong enough to work a pole.”

soap stares at him. “how have you-?”

“price,” he answers simply, throwing the towel on top of his gear and all but stalks towards him. “i like knowin’ who i’m working with; he sent me your breakdancin’ comps. if you can hold a three-fingered hollowback handstand, you can bend on a pole.”

soap sputters as ghost grips his tank top and yanks him over to the pole, setting his hands in place on the body-warmed metal; bracketing his body with his own. he guides his body through the motions; teaches him how to fall and catch himself in a spin, how to gracefully climb and hold his body in midair

soap laughs as he throws himself into a spin just to bend his legs over his head, twisting his body to latch onto the pole with knee and lean perfectly horizontal with his other leg splayed out; his arm thrown above his head

he tips his head back to catch ghost’s grin and almost drops himself as he jumps up to join him; artfully climbing above him and holding his whole weight on his hip as he flips down to look at him

soap’s breath catches at the scant distance between their faces; so close he can count the near invisible freckles on ghosts skin, his fair lashes and the deep flecks of gold in his dark eyes

ghost is just as entranced; his grin slowly fading as he looks into the light sparkling in soap’s eyes. he tips his head towards the mirrors lining the studio and they slowly turn to look at themselves; fitting perfectly together

“see?” he whispers. “we don’t look all that outta place, do we?”

“no,” soap whispers back. “we don’t.”

[britneyshakespeare]

why is morgan wallan getting arrested so funny

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

everyone knows dr. zayne is cool as a cucumber, and it's a given for him that you're known as his wife, but when a fresh-faced new resident seemingly makes a move on you... what will he do?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, jealousy (a very jealous zayne, in fact), making out in his office, crack, fluff, hunter!reader, you and zayne have a daughter

note: inspired by that one kim min-kyu scene in business proposal :D this is actually an extension for nocturne of twilight and dawn's first light but can also be read as standalone

You hadn't seen your husband for two weeks.

There was a spring on your step when you entered Akso Hospital right after your long intercity mission. You had acquired some bruises and they weren't anything serious, so you figured you’d just have Greyson treat them. Besides, it gave you the perfect excuse to hand him some cookies as a souvenir.

And, of course, ask him to ring for Zayne to meet you once he had the time.

"Miss, do you need help?"

But a curious voice addressed you when you loitered around in the lobby, and you turned around to find a bright-faced young man with red hair and wearing doctor's coat.

"Ah, yes, I want to meet Dr. Zayne," you smiled. "Or Dr. Greyson will do."

The young doctor perked up at the names you mentioned. "Oh, are you a patient? Do you have an appointment already?"

"Hmm, no, actually I am—"

You halted mid-sentence before the words his wife slipped out, rethinking your choice. You knew of Zayne's infamous reputation in the hospital, and while almost everyone in his floor knew you, this new doctor didn't, and you thought it was best to leave it that way.

"Yeah, I already have an appointment," you nodded, plastering an thin smile. "Just tell Dr. Greyson that Y/N wants to meet him."

"Right, right, I'll page him now..." he mumbled, pulling out his pager and his phone. "I'll text him too..."

"Thank you."

"O-oh, Miss! Wait!" the young man called after you in a hurry when you turned around. "I've noticed it for a while, you have a cut on the side of your lips..."

"Ah, this..." Your fingers instinctively brushed the dried blood on your lips. You hadn’t thought the small cut was noticeable. "Yes, it’s from earlier—"

"Actually, I’m an ER resident!" he interrupted with a bright grin. "Let me treat you first!"

Caught off guard by his enthusiasm, you barely had time to react as he gently but firmly guided you towards the emergency room.

"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne! Your wife is here~!"

Zayne had barely stepped into his office after a grueling surgery when Greyson barged in, all too casually, delivering the news with a grin. "She’s waiting in the lobby!"

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

You're back? He pulled out his muted phone, checking the notifications. Sure enough, you’d sent him a message an hour ago, letting him know you’d safely landed in Linkon.

His little, snarky wife. For the past two weeks you had been away, the house had felt lonelier. Sure, his daughter—who resembled you in personality, no less—was a bundle of sunshine and adorable beyond words, but without you, there was always that subtle void in the air.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house at all? Maybe it was just him—utterly, hopelessly whipped.

"Why isn’t she coming up to my office?" he asked suddenly, noticing the odd detail.

"Hmm, yeah, and it’s weird... why did the new resident say she’s asking for me?" Greyson mused, turning toward Zayne. "Don’t you want to meet her instead? Whatever she needs me for, I’m sure you could handle it."

Zayne promptly left his office and took long strides toward the elevator. As the doors started to close, he even half-sprinted, calling out to the person inside to hold it for him.

Okay, maybe he was a little too eager, but was it really so wrong to be this excited to see his wife again when the two of you had been apart for two weeks?

...then again, you didn't need to know. You would roast him to bits should you know he missed you this much.

Zayne got off at the lobby, expecting to find you there— only to find the usual flow of hospital staff and visitors. He was about to call you when he wandered past the emergency room and turned the corner—and that’s when he got his shock of the day.

There you were. But not alone.

With a guy.

Whose hand is touching your lips.

"It must be tough being a hunter, huh?"

The red-haired resident carefully tended to your bruised arm, wrapping it in a fresh bandage as you sighed, thinking back to the mission. "Yeah, there are definitely some hard days..."

"But despite all that, you still keep yourself in shape!" he remarked, eyeing your toned arms with a hint of admiration.

You let out a sheepish laugh, remembering those pull-ups sessions with Zayne. "Haha, that's because my husband makes sure I'm getting enough exercise..."

"You're married?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, and it caught you off guard, yet he grinned afterwards. "Wow! Is he a hunter too?"

You would've never guessed, boy. This resident doctor was cute, you thought, ever so curious at everything. You could only imagine the look on his face if you told him that the Dr. Zayne was your husband.

You were about to refute it when his fingers brushed against your lips. "Oh, sorry, let me apply some ointment here first..."

His touch felt cool to your lips and you were momentarily stunned at the contact— but then a gruff cough startled you so much you almost jumped.

The towering figure of your husband behind him. Zayne's dark gaze was fixed on the man in front of you, like he could murder the poor guy with just a look.

"Z-Zayne...?" you squeaked against the ointment on your lips, and the resident quickly turned behind him in surprise, hastily greeting him, "Oh, Dr. Zayne!"

Zayne shot the poor man a single, pointed look before his gaze shifted to you, clearly unamused.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and, without sparing the resident another glance, swiftly pulled you away. The other guy was left standing there, speechless, as Zayne led you off, leaving him in the dust.

. . .

"Zayne!"

Oh, how he actually missed his name coming out from your lips.

"Are you done with your schedule?" you asked as he pulled you into the elevator, confusion evident in the way you tilted your head. But when he didn’t answer, you glanced down at his firm grip on your arm, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, no... are you angry?"

Sigh. It irked him so much, actually. Because, how could you, after weeks—

No, he actually knew he was being irrational. He shouldn’t overreact like this just because someone else touched you. But why is he so annoyed, still?

"Wait, why?" you kept asking, wide-eyed, as the two of you stepped out and made way towards his office. "I'm not injured! I'm fine! It's just some bruises—"

Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his office, swiftly locking the door behind him. Before you could say another word, he cornered you against the wall, and you fell silent instantly.

It had been a while since he’d seen you this way—stunned, caught off guard, and utterly silent under his gaze. He studied your face closely, watching the way your breath hitched as the tension between you both thickened.

It sparked something inside him seeing you like this, a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite explain, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

That was when he saw the blood on your lips. "Did you get punched in the face?"

"Y-Yes, but— it's nothing severe!" you defended, trying to convince him. "It's such a small cut anyway!"

He frowned. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What? Hey, I was about to ask Greyson, but—"

That got him frown even deeper, even irate. "Why Greyson? When you come home with any injuries, you come to me, not anyone else."

You let out a resigned sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Because I know you'll fuss over me, duh."

"I don't fuss," he retorted.

"You do," you shot back, pursing your lips. "You try to act like this cool, calm robot all the time, but you always drone on and on whenever you patch me up. You're worried, it shows."

Zayne huffed, shifting his gaze away from you as he felt his face burn. Was he that obvious? How could he not, though, when you managed to get hurt so often and yet acted so innocent about it?

Then as if inspired, you caught on immediately. Your eyes sparkled, and a mischievous smirk tugged at your lips. "Wait, just now... don't tell me... Are you jealous?"

Damn.

"Heh, Dr. Zayne, really?" Your voice was playful now, mocking him. "Whoa, how can this be?"

How had you figured him out so easily?

You continued in a sing-song voice, putting both hands on your chest, "Ah, my heart flutters! My husband is apparently—"

Enough. This time, his patience snapped.

He didn’t hesitate even for a moment. A low growl escaped him, and in one swift motion, he crashed his lips against yours, silencing you with the most effective method he could think of.

"Mmph!" You gasped in surprise, the teasing words at the end of your tongue completely forgotten. His gray eyes gleamed. Been too long, he thought, and now he was making sure you knew just how badly he craved this.

The kiss was searing as he deepened it, his tongue seeking yours with urgency. "Hngh!" You let out a feeble whine when he teased you by biting your lips.

Zayne held back a snort. One of his hand then strayed inside your hunter uniform, unclasping your bra with a flick.

"—?!" Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and before you could process it, he pulled away. But you were far from right in thinking it was over. The dangerous gleam in his eyes kept you tense as he swiftly removed his glasses...

...before he pulled you back towards him and claimed your lips once again.

With a swift, commanding motion, he guided you toward his desk. His papers scattered at the sudden movement, but he had you bent over it regardless, forcing your body to arch. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, while his right hand fondled your breasts, repeatedly squeezing, palming and switching between them.

"Mmm...!" You let out a strangled moan, instinctively holding onto his shoulder, feeling the way how he groped you ignited your core. "Ahh..."

Your body was tantalizing as always. Hardened and sometimes bruised from your work it may be, but to Zayne, you were still beautiful as ever.

When you gasped for air, he decided he was done with your swollen lips. His lips then trailed down to your neck, sucking hard on it, creating a squelching sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"W-what's... gotten into you...?" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair, hyperaware of his hands still roaming over your nipples.

In response, he nibbled at your skin and flicked your breasts at the same time, causing you to freeze and draw a sharp, hitched breath. "Haah...!"

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curled wickedly at your reaction, and he continued to pepper your neck with series of wet sucks as if to mark you altogether. You writhed under him, whiny and sighing, relishing his hot breath on your skin.

You were utterly at his mercy, pliant and helpless in his hands. There was a deep satisfaction in knowing he was the only one who could bring you, his lawfully wedded wife, to this state—

Still, he wouldn’t allow you to be indecent in a place like this. When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, eyes dark with lust, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. "Don’t tempt me," he muttered, voice low and raspy.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. "Zayne..." you whispered, a whine broke through the heat on your flushed face.

His expression softened just enough, a flicker of tenderness cutting through the intensity. Pretty. That’s what you were, undeniably so. How he had missed out on you so long once was his greatest regret.

Carefully, he helped you sit upright, his touch gentle as he clasped your bra and began buttoning up your uniform, disheveled from his earlier ministrations.

The gentle way he touched you was a stark contrast to how it was earlier. "Is that a new way to treat busted lip?" you nudged his collar, feeling a little braver now.

"For bad wives, yeah."

"I'm not a bad wife! Just disobedient on some occasion."

Zayne's fingers brushed your face as he finished with your uniform, his dark-gray eyes steady on you. You pouted.

"You're the one who's bad," you accused with slight resentment, not missing a beat as the heat between your legs started to dissipate. "Leaving me unfinished like that."

"Hmm? Am I?" he murmured, the faintest amusement in his tone.

"You have to take responsibility tonight, you big meanie," you mumbled, your pout deepening as you avoided meeting his gaze.

Zayne snorted at the sight of you—so precious in his eyes, his thumb lightly grazing the corner of your lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart skip, before whispering in your ear:

"Well, if your voice won't wake our daughter, that is."

Epilogue

Not long after, just as you had gathered yourself and were preparing to leave the hospital to head home, a sudden knock at the door of his office startled you both.

Quickly, you moved to sit on the patient’s seat, feigning nonchalance as you braced yourself for whoever was on the other side. Zayne reached for the door, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice called out.

"Excuse me!" the resident's voice sounded a bit hesitant but firm. "Dr. Zayne, the miss left her handbag earlier!"

Zayne let out a low, irked sigh. You glanced at him curiously, watching as he opened the door and came face-to-face with the redheaded resident.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the resident blinked before handing over the bag.

"I-is the miss still here?" the young doctor asked, almost intimidated by his unfriendly gaze.

"Ma'am," Zayne corrected, his voice flat.

"Huh?"

"Call her ma'am. She's someone's wife."

"O-oh, and her husband is—"

"Me. I am her husband."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the matter-of-fact exchange, heat rising to your cheeks as Zayne’s words hung confidently in the air. He curtly thanked the poor resident before slamming the door shut in his face.

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "Zayne!" you gasped, staring at him as he turned back towards you, entirely unbothered.

Your husband was as cold as the snowman he often made, but somehow the way he boldly declared he was your husband was just so him that it made you so giddy.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "You’re really jealous, huh? How?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze still fixed elsewhere, most definitely trying to save his dignity.

You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him with a teasing sway. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, turning him to face you, and you winked at him mischievously.

"Well, I’m all yours. But if it makes you feel better, maybe I’ll stay away from any ER residents for a while~"

[orangeblossomsintheair]

GRIEF ASIDE (1/4) | MV33

summary : You fancied your fiancé, you realized with horror. Oh, God. You fancied your fiancé.

wc : 13k

an : this took.. a while ☹️ anyway

For as long as you could remember, you had been engaged to Max Emilian, scion of House Verstappen.

On paper, it was a triumphant match, a union to secure your house's fortunes for generations. To be betrothed to the son of a duke was a dream most could only aspire to.

Yet, no one envied House Button’s lovely heiress.

Instead, the court pitied you.

Jos Verstappen, your future father-in-law and Duke of the North, was a name steeped in infamy. Known as the Butcher of the North, his reputation was as frigid and cruel as the land he ruled. Whispers of his war crimes haunted corridors, and songs of lament cursed his name in taverns.

To marry into such a legacy meant tying yourself to shadows you could never escape.

But duty had bound you to this path as tightly as the chill of the northern wind now clung to your skin.

Raised to bridge alliances and strengthen bonds, you had no illusions about the weight of your role.

Now, you stood before the towering iron gates of the Verstappen estate, carriage behind you, your wool cloak and one of your knight’s heavy coats offered little respite from the North’s unforgiving cold.

“Keep your chin up, my lady,” Lily murmured beside you, adjusting the trunk she carried, her voice nearly drowned by the howling wind. Her cheeks were flushed from the frost, and her attempts at reassurance felt as thin as your cloak.

You nodded mutely, clenching your chattering teeth. Complaining about her poor preparation, or your shared underestimation of the northern winter, would achieve little.

The gates groaned open, revealing the sprawling estate beyond.

The fortress-like walls loomed high, their grey stone stark against the snow-laden landscape. Narrow windows glinted like ice shards under the weak winter sun.

Smoke curled lazily from the distant stables, a muted sign of life in an otherwise bleak expanse.

“Cheerful place,” Lando muttered behind you, his voice dry. He pulled his hood lower, trying to shield his face from the biting wind.

“More like a tomb,” Oscar replied, tone low. His eyes scanned the walls warily, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

Crossing the threshold of the estate, you were greeted by a cavernous main hall that carried little more warmth than the outdoors. Though a fire crackled at one end, its heat barely touched the far corners of the room.

The scent of pine mingled with the cold tang of iron, likely from the spiked chandelier that loomed overhead, casting jagged shadows across the floor.

“Presenting Lady (Y/N) of House Button,” the steward announced, his voice echoing up the vaulted ceilings.

The words washed over you, irrelevant compared to your struggle to stop trembling. The knight closest to you, Oscar, shifted closer, his presence a silent bulwark, but you scarcely noticed.

A figure descended the grand staircase, drawing your attention despite the icy haze clouding your mind.

Max Emilian Verstappen.

He moved with a grace that could only be borne from years of court presence, strides measured and deliberate yet still managing to not look stiff.

Pale hair neatly combed, save for a few strands that fell across his forehead, softening the otherwise hard edges of his face. His broad shoulders were draped in a heavy black coat lined with fur, swallowing what little light the room offered.

You had heard tales of him: a skilled warrior, an even better horseman, and a temper so fierce people began claiming the Verstappen rage was a hereditary trait.

His eyes fell on you then, surprise flickering across his face before being quickly replaced by a furrowed brow and the unmistakable air of annoyance.

“Gods,” he muttered under his breath, his tone cold enough to make you flinch.

You stiffened, unsure whether to speak or remain silent.

Was that usually how the Northern Lords greeted their betrothed?

Max’s eyes roved over you, taking in your trembling form, pale cheeks, and the inadequate cloak clutched around your shoulders.

His frown deepened, and he turned sharply toward your knights, his expression hardening.

“Why in the seven hells is she dressed like this?” he demanded.

Sir Lando bristled but maintained his composure. “My lady insisted, Lord Verstappen, that we keep ourselves alive. We offered additional layers-”

“She’s half-frozen. Who cares if you're alive if your Lady is dead?” Max cut him off, already shrugging out of his own coat.

You opened your mouth to protest, to insist you were fine, but before you could utter a word, he was draping the fur-lined garment over your shoulders.

The residual warmth from his body enveloped you, burying you under the scent of pine and leather.

“Your stubbornness will kill you,” he muttered, crouching slightly to adjust the coat. His tone was still sharp, but his hands were steady and careful as they brushed over you.

You glanced at Lily, who hovered nearby, her eyes darting between you and Max. “Fetch tea,” Max ordered, voice brooking no argument.

She hesitated, clearly unsure whether to take orders from a person who was decidedly not her Lady, but a sharp look from him sent her scurrying away.

Max turned back to you, his expression unreadable as his hand brushed over your elbow, guiding you forward. “Sit,” he gestured to the high-backed chair closest to the hearth.

You sank into the seat gratefully, abandoning the appearance of grace in lieu of the warmth of the fire and the heavy coat easing the worst of your shivers.

Max crouched before you, his face illuminated by the flickering light. “You were standing in the cold far too long,” he said, softer now as though talking to an injured bird.

“I didn’t realize…” you started, but your voice faltered.

Max’s lips quirked in a faint, reluctant smile. “Not even when you were shivering like a leaf?”

He leaned back, regarding you for a moment before adding, “The North will swallow you whole.”

His words should have stung, but you found it hard to be insulted for there was no malice in them, only a hint of amusement.

The tea arrived swiftly, Lily handing it to you with a pinched expression, steam curling from the delicate porcelain as if reluctant to break the stillness of the hall.

You wrapped your frozen fingers around the cup, savoring the way the heat kissed your skin, thawing the numbness in your fingers.

Max walked to stand a few paces away, matching your knight and maid's distance, watching you with a detached sort of interest, his arms still crossed over his chest.

The flickering firelight carved sharp angles along his face, illuminating the high cut of his cheekbones and the stern set of his jaw.

“You look better now.” His voice was quieter this time. “At least you have some color in you.”

You weren’t sure if that was meant to be a kindness or merely an observation, but you offered a polite nod regardless.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Max will do.”

The correction startled you. Men of his station, sons of dukes especially, rarely made such allowances. Betrothed or not.

“As you wish… Max.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it vanished just as quickly.

“I imagine you have questions.”

Of course, you did.

Too many, and yet none seemed appropriate to ask.

You had spent years preparing for this union in theory, but now that you were standing on the threshold of it, the rehearsed words died in your throat.

“Only a few,” you said carefully.

He hummed, a noncommittal sound. “Then ask.”

You hesitated. “Your father… the Duke… is he here?”

Max’s expression cooled.

“No. My father is at the border fortresses, inspecting the garrisons. He will return before the winter feast to welcome you.”

Relief and dread tangled in your chest. It was a reprieve not to face Duke Jos immediately, but you knew it was temporary at best.

“And your father will be joining us soon enough as well, won’t he?” Max’s tone was unreadable, though something sharp glinted beneath it.

You nodded. “Yes. My father will come north after his duties are finished. To meet with the Duke and… formalize the engagement.”

The words felt heavy on your tongue. This visit wasn’t just a quiet retreat to adjust to your future home. It was a public commitment. Before long, the entire North would know you belonged to him.

You dreaded what that would do to your public image.

Max’s jaw tightened although his expression remained carefully distant. “Of course.”

He turned slightly, gaze sweeping the cold stone hall.

“You’ll find the North is not like the South. Comfort is scarce, and the people scarcer. They will not warm to you easily.”

His words felt more like a warning than a courtesy.

“I don’t expect them to.”

That seemed to surprise him. Perhaps he had been expecting you to be one of those Southern ladies that demanded everyone to bend over backwards for their comfort.

His eyes flicked back to you, studying you in a way that made you want to shrink under his coat.

“Good.”

The fire cracked loudly, sending a shower of sparks upward. Max tilted his head toward it, the flicker of light catching in his pale hair.

“You’ll need to adjust quickly. My father won’t tolerate weakness in his house.”

“And you?” The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Max’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes hardened.

“I won’t coddle you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

It wasn’t. But the way he said it made your stomach twist.

Still, you straightened your spine. “I wouldn’t ask for that.”

A tense silence settled again, though this time, it felt more contemplative than cold.

Max’s gaze drifted from you to the door behind you.

“You must be tired from the journey. I’ll have your rooms prepared.”

“I thought we would stay in the west wing,” you said, recalling the arrangements made in the letters exchanged between your families.

Max’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“The west wing is being repaired. Storm damage. You’ll stay closer to the main hall until it’s finished.”

It was a small thing, perhaps, yet it unsettled you.

The west wing was meant to be yours. A space to adjust quietly, away from the imposing grandeur of the estate.

Now, you were being denied that distance.

But what could you do? Refuse? Argue?

“Very well,” you said softly.

Max nodded once then turned to the waiting steward.

“Have the rooms near the library prepared. And make sure the fires are lit.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Oscar and Lando approached then, boots scuffing against the stone floor as they stopped just shy of your side.

Their eyes darted toward you, assessing your posture, searching for some silent confirmation that you were unharmed.

You gave them a small nod, and the tension in Oscar’s broad shoulders seemed to ease, though Lando’s hand remained near the hilt of his sword, his body coiled like a spring.

Max’s sharp gaze swept over the two knights, his expression unreadable but undoubtedly calculating.

“Your people will stay nearby,” he said, his voice firm but unhurried. “Your maid is not to wander without escort. Your men may walk around but not too far from the fortress. I'd rather not deal with the politics of a Southern knight dying in my land.”

Lily bristled at the casual remark, her cheeks coloring with indignation. “We Southerners aren't as fragile as you seem to think,” she said sharply, her words cutting the silence like a knife.

“Lily,” Oscar said quietly, catching her arm before she could step forward. His grip was gentle but firm, head shaking in a silent plea for restraint.

Max didn’t even flinch at her outburst, his cool demeanor unwavering as his gaze flicked back to you.

“Your people are bold.” His tone was tinged with something akin to amusement. “Let’s hope they’re wise enough to temper it.”

“They’re loyal,” you replied evenly, meeting his eyes without faltering. “I wouldn’t have brought them otherwise.”

“Loyalty is admirable but it doesn’t mean much if it gets you killed.”

Lando shifted beside you, jaw tight. “With all due respect, my lord,” he began without much respect at all. “We’re more than capable of keeping her safe.”

“I’m sure you believe that.” Max’s gaze settled on Lando. “But I’ve seen capable men bleed out on these stones for lesser causes. My rules are for your protection as much as mine.”

Lando’s grip on his sword tightened, but Oscar’s hand on his shoulder stilled him.

“We’ll abide by your rules,” Oscar confirmed, voice calm.

“Good.” Max turned back to you. “Come. I’ll show you the library. You should know where it is if you’re to live here.”

The offer caught you off guard. The scion of House Verstappen switched conversations so casually he seemed to slap you with his casualness.

“The library?”

“You can’t spend all your time staring at the snow,” Max replied evenly, though there was a faint lilt to his words.

Was that… humor? It was hard to tell with him.

“Well..” You tugged your coat tighter. “It is very captivating snow.”

Max’s brow arched. “And yet, I think you’ll survive without it for an hour.”

You blinked, taken aback by the dry remark.

Was he… teasing you?

Shaking off the ridiculous thought, you rose from your chair, trailing behind as he turned and strode toward the door.

You glanced at your companions, giving them a small and, hopefully, reassuring smile before stepping forward to follow Max.

Max’s pace was long, purposeful, and you found yourself scrambling to keep up without looking breathless.

(You decidedly ignored Sir Lando's small snort of laughter.)

The manor was a labyrinth of cold stone and dim corridors, the walls lined with tapestries dulled by age.

Shadows flickered where sparse torches burned, giving the place a haunted sort of stillness.

You found it hard to ever imagine yourself calling this place home.

Max moved through the halls like someone who had been shaped by this place, his presence carved into the very bones of the estate.

His stride was confident, measured, purposeful.

You, on the other hand, felt like an outsider, a stranger, each step heavy on the cold stone floor.

Finally, Max stopped before a pair of massive oak doors, their wood darkened with age. He didn’t look back at you as he spoke, his voice low, but managing to carry through the quiet hall.

“Your men stay outside. Your maid may enter,” he said, the command clear.

Your knights exchanged a brief look.

Lando’s lips curled into a smirk, clearly less than thrilled with the command. He let out a sigh, posture straightening with a resigned huff.

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, he moved to one side of the door, giving a theatrical bow as though he were playing a part in some grand performance.

Oscar shook his head but followed suit, taking his place at the other side, hands clasped with a more restrained expression.

Lando’s voice broke the silence, dripping with mock sweetness. “Enjoy the library, my Lady. Try not to get too lost in there.”

You laughed, unable to contain yourself and bid them a silent goodbye.

Without another word, he pushed the doors open, the hinges groaning in protest, and led you and Lily inside.

The library was vast and dim, lined wall-to-wall with shelves that stretched high into the shadows above.

Dust motes floated lazily in the beams of light filtering through the narrow, arched windows, painting the room in shades of gold and gray.

You inhaled deeply, the scent of aged paper and polished wood filling your senses.

“It’s beautiful…” you breathed, the words slipping out unbidden.

“It is,” Max replied, stepping farther into the room. “And it’s yours to use as I allow while you’re here.”

You followed him in, your fingers brushing the spines of the books closest to you. They were thick and heavy, their titles embossed in faded gold.

“Are these… first editions?” you asked, your voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly might awaken some slumbering beast.

“Many of them, yes,” Max said, his gaze sweeping the shelves as if cataloging them in his mind. “You’ll find original prints of histories, poetry, philosophy. Most of it quite rare. Some of the works were commissioned specifically for this collection.”

“Commissioned?” you echoed, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

He nodded. “Yes. House Verstappen has always valued knowledge. There are some volumes here you won’t find anywhere else.”

You let your hand fall from the books and turned to face him. “You must spend a lot of time here then.”

“Not as much as I should,” he admitted, his tone crisp. “But I’m familiar with the layout. If you’re planning to lose yourself, I can point you in the right direction.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his phrasing. “Lose myself?”

“It happens.” He shrugged, glancing away.

You laughed softly. “Is that your way of warning me?”

“A mere suggestion,” he corrected, his lips twitching in what might have been the hint of a smile. “Start with the poetry under the windows. It’s a good place for… wandering minds.”

“Poetry under the windows,” you repeated the words under your breath, glancing toward the far end of the room where a faint glow spilled across the shelves. “Any other recommendations?”

“The histories on the east wall are worth your time.” He gestured briefly. “And if you’re feeling adventurous, there’s a collection of letters on the upper mezzanine. They’re in French, though.”

“I can manage French,” you said with a small smile.

His eyebrow arched faintly. “Good. Then you’ll also find some rather colorful accounts of court scandals tucked in the back corner. A few are probably embellished, but they’re entertaining nonetheless.”

Your laughter came easier this time. “Court scandals? I didn’t expect you to recommend something so… frivolous.”

“Frivolity has its place,” he said dryly. “Just don’t let the staff catch you reading them. They might talk.”

“Noted.” You attempted to suppress your grin.

For a moment, the two of you stood in companionable silence, the quiet weight of the library wrapping around you like a cloak. You turned back to the shelves, running your fingertips lightly over the spines once more.

“This is incredible,” you murmured.

You glanced over your shoulder at his lack of a response, catching a faint glimmer of something softer in his eyes, though it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared.

Max seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. “You will be fetched come dinner time.”

The heavy doors of the library groaned shut behind him, leaving you and Lily in the cavernous stillness.

As soon as the sound of his footsteps faded, Lily let out a sharp exhale, breaking the silence. “I thought he’d never leave,” she muttered, her voice pitched low but urgent.

You turned to her, startled by her tone. “Lily-”

“He’s impossible to read!” she interrupted, her hands gesturing animatedly as she paced a small circle near the door.

“One moment, he’s scowling like the world owes him something, and the next, he’s… he’s practically pointing you toward the best books for a cozy evening! What am I supposed to make of that?”

You blinked, caught between amusement and exasperation. “I don’t think it’s meant to be deciphered, Lily.”

“But it should be!” she shot back, stopping abruptly to face you. “You’re supposed to marry him. How are you supposed to live with someone who switches moods faster than the weather?”

“I don’t think he’s as unpredictable as you think,” you said cautiously, though you weren’t entirely convinced of your own words. “He’s… reserved.”

“Reserved?” Lily snorted. “He looks like he’s trying not to bite anyone’s head off half the time.” She softened slightly, adding, “Although, I’ll admit, it was nice of him to show you this place.”

Her eyes wandered around the library, her earlier frustration melting into a quieter awe. “It really is something, isn’t it?”

You nodded, letting your gaze sweep the towering shelves. “It is. I could lose hours in here.”

“Maybe you’ll have to,” Lily said, her tone lighter now. “If he’s not going to be forthcoming about himself, you might have to dig through the history books to figure him out. Perhaps you'll even find a diary of his.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I think even the books might not have the answers to that mystery.”

Lily gave you a sly grin. “Well, if anyone can figure him out, my lady, it’s you.”

With a roll of your eyes, you turned back to the shelves. “My betrothed's dour personality aside.. help me find that poetry section he mentioned.”

Lily smiled, stepping closer to follow you deeper into the quiet sanctuary of the library.

“Of course, my lady.”

—

Hours later, as the manor stirred for the evening meal, a servant was dispatched to your quarters. The boy found it strange that the two knights he'd heard his Lord's betrothed had come with weren't stationed by the door.

A sharp knock echoed once. Then again, louder, more insistent.

“My lady?”

Silence.

The servant hesitated, damp palms against the polished wood.

“My lady?” He said again, voice cracking. “My lady, may I come in?”

“...My lady, I'm coming in.”

Then, cautiously, he pushed the door open.

The room was untouched. The bed still perfectly made, the hearth’s fire reduced to flickering embers. Shadows stretched long across the walls, and a chill crept in where warmth should have lingered.

Panic tightened his throat.

He checked the adjoining rooms. The empty sitting area, the silent halls. Nowhere.

Not even your guards and maid were present.

Sweat gathered at his brow as he hurried through the winding corridors, heart hammering as he sought out Lord Verstappen.

He found Max standing near the great hall’s window, dusk spilling through the glass in muted gold.

“My lord,” the servant panted, voice tight. “She’s- she’s gone.”

Max turned slowly. “Gone?”

“I searched her chambers, the halls, the west wing-”

“And the library?” Max’s voice was sharp, cutting through the servant’s stammering explanation.

The servant faltered. “The… the library, my lord?”

“Yes,” Max said evenly, already striding toward the east corridor. “She’s there.”

The servant froze, his jaw slackening. “You… you allowed her inside?”

“Are you questioning me?” Max didn’t even glance back as he continued down the hall, his boots echoing sharply on the stone floor.

“N-no, my lord!” the servant stammered, bowing reflexively. “But should I-”

“Stay where you are,” Max ordered. “I’ll handle this myself.”

Your two knights stood sentinel by the library doors when he approached, arms crossed, their expressions a mixture of boredom and indifference.

They barely acknowledged him, their attention elsewhere as the echo of his boots rang down the corridor.

Max didn’t slow his pace. “Is she still in there?”

Lando flicked a glance toward Oscar, then shrugged. “Yep. She's buried in a book or something,” he said with a nonchalant flick of his wrist, as if it were of little concern.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t think to remind her of the time?”

Oscar raised a brow, voice dry. “A certain scion has, unfortunately, forbidden our entry, my lord.”

Max sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose, but Lando was quick to interject with a smirk. “And it’s a lost cause trying to pry our Lady away from a good book. Trust me, we’ve tried.”

Max’s frustration bubbled over into a short, exasperated laugh as he pushed the heavy doors open.

And there you were.

Curled into a high-backed chair, utterly absorbed in the thick, ancient book resting open in your lap.

A few other volumes lay scattered around your feet, their spines cracked open, as if you’d moved through them in a frenzy of curiosity.

Max’s gaze lingered on the sight before him. On the way your head tilted slightly as you read, your brow furrowed in concentration.

His grip on the doorframe loosened, but his jaw remained tight.

“My lady.”

You glanced up, startled but then smiled when you saw him. “Oh, my- Max, What are you doing here again?”

Max’s brow arched slightly at your casual tone. His irritation wavered.

He knew you were about to say ‘my Lord’ again, knew it was a mere slip of the tongue, court etiquette taking over before personal sense.

But.. my Max. Yes, he supposed he was indeed yours.

He couldn't say that though so when he spoke, it was only a disinterested, “It’s dinner time.”

You blinked, glancing toward the tall windows where the light had shifted to deep amber.

“Already? I hadn’t even realized-” You glanced down at the book in your lap, reluctant to put it aside. “I haven’t even finished this chapter.”

His gaze dropped to the title in your hands. “Faust,” he noted, tucking the information away. “You read German?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I… only at an elementary level.”

Max's eyebrow arched slightly. You were either a liar or terribly humble.

“Faust,” he repeated dryly. “Hardly a book for someone with only elementary German. Your skills are passable, at least.”

“Just enough to get by,” you admitted, more honest now, brushing invisible dust from your skirt as you stood.

Max offered his arm, and you took it without hesitation this time.

He noticed, though he said nothing about the change, afraid that if he voiced it out you'd withdraw again.

“You might find Faust more rewarding if you read it in context,” he remarked as you walked down the hall, your knights and maid following behind.

You glanced up at him, curious. “And what context would that be?”

“Understanding Goethe’s philosophical explorations, for one. Or at least recognizing the poetic structure in its original form.”

You tilted your head. “So now you’re saying my German isn’t good enough?”

“I’m saying it’s a pity to read something monumental in fragments,” he replied. “Not a criticism.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” The corners of your lips quirked upward.

“Take it as you like.” He offered you a small shrug, though there was the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke again. “Which German do you struggle with?”

“Official documents,” you admitted. “The kind that's full of overly formal phrasing and unnecessary flourish.”

Max hummed, thoughtful. Most official documents were indeed like that. “I could assist with that, should the need arise.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the offer. “You would?”

“If I find myself having time.”

“Thank you.”

He shook his head, brushing off your words. “And don't sit too close to the mezzanine shelves,” he added. “They’re unstable.”

Your brows rose. “Unstable?”

“I don’t need you buried beneath three hundred years of German history,” he said, his tone casual but his meaning clear.

A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “You’d miss me, then?”

“More likely, the servants would revolt,” he said, gesturing to the doors to the dining hall. “Dinner then, shall we?”

—

The dining hall was an expansive, imposing space, its vaulted ceilings casting long shadows over the vast table.

Candles decorated much of the available surfaces in a surprisingly tasteful way.

Their flames flickered weakly, struggling to combat the cold that clung to the stone walls like it was a living, breathing thing.

The table stretched far ahead, but only two places were set.

Max took his seat at the head without so much as a glance in your direction, and you slid into the chair opposite him.

Lily quietly withdrew to prepare for your night routine while Lando and Oscar remained a fair distance away, leaving the two of you some privacy to discuss.

Servants moved efficiently, placing the first course on the table: roast venison, honeyed carrots, and freshly baked bread that had already begun to cool in the chill air.

The earlier conversation about books had petered out, leaving a quiet in its wake.

Max ate as though entirely alone, his focus on the meal before him.

You shifted in your seat, the faint scrape of your fork against the plate feeling almost intrusive.

"You know," you began tentatively, "for someone who seems to enjoy books, you’re surprisingly difficult to talk to about them."

Max’s knife paused mid-slice, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

There was no hostility in his gaze, but his expression was unreadable all the same. “Talking about books is rarely as rewarding as reading them.”

“That sounds suspiciously like an excuse,” you said, trying to inject a bit of lightness into the moment. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to have a proper discussion about them.”

His lips twitched slightly, as if the idea amused him, though he didn’t smile. “Do you often accuse your dining companions of conversational ineptitude, or am I a special case?”

“That depends.” You tore off a piece of bread. “Are you going to prove me wrong?”

Max tilted his head, studying you with quiet curiosity, like someone turning over a puzzle piece in their mind.

“Very well.” He set his knife down carefully. “What would you like to discuss? Goethe? Schiller?”

“Bold of you to assume I am especially fond of German authors. Perhaps I just picked up Faust in the library on a whim.” You smiled. “But if you must know, I’ve been working through Balzac recently.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting slightly, though still difficult to read. “Balzac? Ambitious. And how are you finding him?”

“Dense,” you admitted with a laugh. “Brilliant, but dense. Definitely not light reading.”

“Few worthwhile things are,” he replied, returning to his meal. “Though I’ve always found Balzac’s fascination with ambition rather… tiresome.”

“Really?” you asked, curious. “Why?”

He took a measured sip of wine before answering. “Because I’ve seen enough ambition in reality to find little appeal in it as fiction.”

You smiled faintly, tilting your head. “And yet, here you are. A product of generations of ambition.”

His gaze darkened slightly, though not in anger.

There was a flicker of something, maybe hesitation, before he spoke. “Careful,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “You’re treading close to dangerous ground.”

“Am I?” you asked, though your tone was gentler now, almost teasing. “I thought we were just talking about books.”

Before he could respond, the servants re-entered, clearing the first course and placing the next before you.

The interruption softened the tension, and you let the moment breathe.

When the room was quiet again, you spoke, this time more cautiously. “Alright, then. Enough about me. What about you? What are you reading?”

Max’s fork paused mid-motion, and he set it down with deliberate care. “Does it matter?”

“Of course, it matters,” you replied, leaning forward slightly. “How else am I supposed to judge your taste?”

For a moment, you thought you saw the faintest glimmer of a smile. “If you must know, The Sorrows of Young Werther.”

You blinked, surprised. “Goethe’s most sentimental work? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Sentimentality has its uses,” he said dryly, though there was no real bite to his words. “Even you might agree.”

“Are you suggesting I’m sentimental?” you arched a brow.

“I’m suggesting you’re curious,” he replied, his tone even. “Perhaps overly so.”

“Fair.” You conceded with a small laugh. “But I’m curious.. what draws you to it? The tragedy? The unrequited love?”

He hesitated for just a moment, his gaze dropping briefly before he answered.

“The futility,” he said quietly, lifting his wine glass. “Of longing for something you cannot have.”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard. When he didn’t elaborate, you picked up your own glass, letting the silence linger without pressing further.

“You have a rather bleak outlook, don’t you?” you asked finally, your voice softer now.

“Realistic,” he corrected, not unkindly, his gaze flicking back to yours. “Not everyone has the luxury of optimism.”

You frowned slightly, not entirely sure how to reply. “It’s not about luxury,” you said after a pause. “It’s about perspective.”

“Perspective is shaped by reality.” His eyes met yours, boring. “And reality is rarely kind.”

The conversation lulled again, but this time it felt less uneasy and more thoughtful.

As dinner wrapped up, Max glanced at your knights before settling on you, his tone lightening as he spoke. “I trust you can find your rooms?”

You nodded, standing from your chair. “Yes, I think so.”

“No late-night wandering, then?” he asked, his voice carrying the faintest trace of amusement.

Max’s lips twitched again, softer this time, as if he might actually be considering a smile. “Good. I’d hate to have to rescue you from some misstep in the dark.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “What makes you think I’d need rescuing?”

“Experience,” he said simply, the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes.

The air between you shifted slightly, the earlier sharpness fading into something more subdued.

You allowed yourself a small laugh, breaking the lingering tension. “I’ll have you know I’m quite capable of finding my way around.”

“Is that so?” he replied, leaning back in his chair. His tone had softened, the sharp edges dulling to a quiet curiosity. “Well, then. I suppose I’ll trust you.”

“Trust,” you repeated, letting the word hang between you. “A bold move, considering we’ve only just met.”

Max regarded you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Bold, perhaps. But necessary.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. There was something in his voice, quiet, measured, and entirely unexpected, that made you pause. The weight of the moment settled around you like the faint flicker of the candlelight, warm yet fragile.

“Well,” you said finally. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

He rose from his seat with practiced ease, the flicker of warmth in his eyes quickly hidden behind his composed demeanor. “Goodnight, then.”

You watched him as he left the dining hall, his steps measured and deliberate, the echo of his footsteps fading into the vast, empty space.

For a moment, you sat in the quiet, your gaze lingering on the door where he had disappeared.

Finally, you stood, the faintest smile playing at your lips. “Goodnight, Max,” you murmured to the empty room.

—-

The first light of dawn crept through the heavy drapes of your room, painting the walls in soft hues of gold and silver. The air carried a sharp chill, the promise of frost lingering just outside the thick panes of glass.

Everything was still, save for the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth and the soft rustling of fabric as Lily moved about with quiet precision.

She bent over a polished wooden chair, her deft hands smoothing out the folds of the attire she’d chosen for you.

A cloak of deep crimson lay draped across her arm, its rich, heavy fabric catching the faint light. You stirred in your bed, watching her through half-lidded eyes as she worked.

“Good morning, Lily,” you murmured, sitting up and drawing the blankets closer against the morning chill.

Lily turned with a warm smile, setting the cloak on the bed beside you. “Good morning, my Lady. Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” you replied, your fingers brushing the thick velvet of the cloak. You tilted your head, examining it with curiosity. “I don’t recall seeing this in my wardrobe before.”

“It was delivered just this morning,” Lily explained, her tone light but tinged with amusement. “A gift, I believe, from Lord Verstappen.”

Your brows lifted as you traced the intricate embroidery along the hem, tiny silver threads woven into delicate patterns. “From Lord Verstappen?”

She nodded, folding her hands in front of her. “He must have assumed the worst given your attire yesterday.”

“It’s rather heavy,” you remarked, holding it up to feel its weight.

Lily gave you a knowing smile, her tone dry but affectionate. “I think I speak for all of us when I say that I’d rather you walk with less grace than freeze, my Lady.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you draped the cloak over your shoulders.

It was impossibly warm, the kind of warmth that seeped through your skin and settled in your bones. “You’re not wrong. I suppose there’s no room for vanity when winter comes knocking.”

“None at all,” Lily agreed, moving to adjust the cloak, fastening the silver clasp at your throat. “Besides, the color suits you. Lord Verstappen has surprisingly good taste. I'd have assumed he’d just grab any old thing and force you into it.”

You raised a brow at the tone that laced her words, giving her a sidelong glance. “Flattery for him, Lily? Are you trying to curry favor? And here I thought you were quite ready to sock him just yesterday.”

She feigned innocence, stepping back with a twinkle in her eye. “Not at all, my Lady. But if he keeps sending gifts like this, I might just start.”

Your laughter filled the room, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. You were somewhat glad Lily saw him as redeemable after yesterday.

After all, she was usually a good judge of character.

As you stood, the cloak fell around you like a royal mantle, its weight grounding but comforting.

By the time you entered the dining hall, Max was already seated at the long table, a vision of composed efficiency.

His pale hair was still perfectly swept back, not a strand out of place, and a small stack of documents sat before him.

His pen moved steadily across the paper, his focus unbroken even as the golden morning light softened the sharpness of his features.

“Good morning, Max,” you said, sliding into the chair across from him, your tone deliberately chipper.

Max glanced up briefly, eyes meeting yours with the barest flicker of warmth.

“Good morning,” he replied, setting his pen down with the precision of a man who never did anything carelessly. “You’re up early.”

“It’s rather difficult to stay in bed when the frost feels like it's climbing up to sleep with you,” you said, grabbing a warm roll from the plate near you. “Do you have a deal with the weather to ensure I never sleep in?”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “I’ll admit to nothing. But if the frost succeeds, perhaps I should reward it.”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try,” you said, tearing a piece of bread and slathering it with butter. “I’ve made my peace with it, though. I realized there was a charm to the winter once I got over the whole ‘freezing to death’ aspect.”

Max arched a brow, his eyes sparkling faintly with what you hoped was amusement. “A charm, you say? I wasn’t aware you were so poetic in the mornings.”

“Oh, I’m a veritable bard before breakfast,” you said. “In fact, I was just composing a sonnet about how frostbite builds character.”

He snorted softly as he reached for his tea, the sound barely audible, but it felt like a victory. “I’ll be sure to commission a copy of it for the library.”

You leaned back in your chair, feeling emboldened by his rare moment of humor

“Speaking of things worth writing about, I was thinking of spending some time in the garden today. It looks magical with the frost.”

Max paused, his teacup halfway to his lips, and gave you a look that bordered on incredulous. “The garden? In winter?”

“Yes, the garden,” you said, undeterred. “You do realize it’s still a garden, even when it’s cold?”

He set his cup down slowly, as if trying to process your words. “You are aware that nothing grows in the garden during winter, yes? Unless you count the weeds, which I doubt have much aesthetic appeal.”

“There are flowers that survive in winter,” you said with a pointed look.

He tilted his head, his expression blank. “Like what? Frozen dandelions?”

“Snowdrops, holly, winter jasmine,” you listed off, ticking them off on your fingers. “I saw some while passing by yesterday. Honestly, do you even know what’s in your own garden?”

Max leaned back slightly. “I delegate. Why bother when there are people who are willing to brave the frost to catalog it all for me?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your grin. “How magnanimous of you.”

He inclined his head slightly, as though you’d paid him a genuine compliment. “It’s a skill.”

“You should come with me,” you said suddenly. “A little walk in the fresh air couldn’t hurt. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.”

He hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim of his teacup. “I appreciate the invitation,” he said finally, his tone carefully polite. “But my duties don’t often allow for such… luxuries.”

“Luxuries?” you raised a brow. “Surely even a Lord like yourself deserves a moment to himself.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, but it faded quickly. “Perhaps another time.”

You nodded, masking your disappointment with a practiced smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to distract you from your responsibilities.”

“Distraction,” he repeated, his gaze lingering on you longer than necessary.

Something unspoken flickered in his eyes, and though his expression remained composed, there was the faintest hint of something warmer beneath the surface.

“Perhaps,” he said again, this time softer, almost to himself.

You glanced down, heat creeping up your cheeks, and busied yourself with your breakfast.

—-

The steady scratch of a quill against parchment filled the room, broken only by the occasional shuffle of papers.

Max leaned over his desk, eyes scanning the dense columns of reports.

The study was dim, the late afternoon light barely filtering through the heavy curtains. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls.

Yet, for all his focus, his pen paused mid-sentence.

His thoughts drifted. Again.

To you.

He could see it vividly in his mind: the garden cloaked in frost, each branch thin and brittle beneath the weight of winter.

You would be there, wouldn’t you? Bundled in that wool cloak you favored, breath curling in the cold air as you traced the icy edges of dormant rose bushes.

You had mentioned it offhandedly this morning, your plan to spend the afternoon outside despite the chill.

Max let out a slow breath, frowning at the parchment before him.

The words blurred, meaningless.

It was ridiculous.

You were likely gone by now, the cold too sharp to endure for long.

Rationality urged him to stay, to finish the reports that demanded his attention.

Yet the thought persisted.

Why did it matter if you were still there?

It shouldn’t.

And yet.

The chair scraped quietly against the floor as he stood.

He didn’t bother with his coat. The cold would be a brief inconvenience.

His steps were measured as he left the study, though there was a certain tension in his stride, as if he was trying to convince himself this was a simple walk and nothing more.

The manor’s halls gave way to the biting air of winter, and Max inhaled sharply, the cold seeping through the thin fabric of his sleeves.

The gravel path crunched beneath his boots as he crossed into the garden.

The world was quiet here. Still.

The pale sun sagged low in the sky, casting a silver sheen over frost-laced branches and brittle hedges. Even the air felt suspended, holding its breath.

He scanned the expanse, expecting, no, hoping, to see a flicker of movement among the barren trees.

Nothing.

Max’s jaw tightened.

Of course. You wouldn’t have waited. Hours had passed. Why would you linger in the cold for him? The thought was absurd.

He moved forward anyway, slow and deliberate, his hands clasped behind his back as if that could restrain the growing restlessness in his chest.

Each turn of the path yielded only more empty frost-covered stone.

Once.

Twice.

A third time around, and still nothing.

Perhaps this was a mistake.

He turned to leave.

Then, faintly, the sound of movement, a soft rustle of fabric.

His head snapped up.

And there you were.

Tucked into the curve of a stone bench, half-hidden by the skeletal branches of the hedgerow.

A book lay open in your lap, your gloved fingers idly turning the page.

Max stared.

You hadn’t left.

A strange feeling settled in his chest, something between relief and unease.

He didn’t speak, not immediately. For a moment, he simply watched you, the way your breath misted in the cold, how your hair caught the pale light.

He wasn’t sure why he’d come out here.

But now that he had, he found he didn’t want to leave.

Max exhaled quietly, letting the breath curl away into the cold.

He stood perfectly still, half-concealed by the bare limbs of the hedgerow, his figure blending into the stark winter landscape. The cold gnawed at him, a sharp wind threading through the thin fabric of his sleeves, but he didn’t move.

His breath escaped in thin, controlled streams of vapor, dissipating into the frigid air.

And still, his eyes remained fixed on you.

You sat quietly on the stone bench, bundled in the cloak he'd ordered a servant to bring to you last night come morning, its edges stiff with frost.

A book rested in your lap, your gloved fingers lazily tracing the brittle page edges as you turned them.

Every now and then, you paused, eyes lifting to watch the pale sun as it sagged toward the horizon, before returning to your reading.

Max’s hands tightened behind his back.

He shouldn’t be here.

There was no reason to be.

And yet, he didn’t leave.

He told himself it was coincidence, that his steps had simply led him here after hours of restless pacing in his study.

But even that excuse felt thin, crumbling under the weight of his own unease.

He exhaled slowly, the breath catching in the cold.

Why didn’t you go inside? The air was sharp and biting.

Anyone with sense would’ve retreated to the warmth of the manor by now. Yet you sat there still, as if waiting for something.

Or someone.

A ridiculous thought.

Max’s jaw tightened.

"You know," a dry voice cut through the stillness, "standing there staring is a bit creepy, my Lord.”

Max turned sharply, his cold glare snapping to the armored figure leaning casually against the frosted stone archway.

Oscar.

The knight stood with an infuriating air of nonchalance, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword, the other shoved lazily into the crook of his elbow. His breath misted lazily in the cold air, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re out of line.” Max’s voice was flat, the warning unmistakable.

Oscar only raised an eyebrow, entirely unbothered. “Probably. But you’ve been standing long enough that I figured someone should say something.”

Max’s glare deepened.

Oscar tilted his head slightly toward the garden. “You could just speak to her, you know. I’m half certain she wouldn’t mind.”

“I have no intention of interrupting her,” Max said coolly, though the words rang hollow even to his own ears.

Oscar made a thoughtful noise, tapping a gloved finger against his chin. “No, of course not. That’s why you’re skulking in the hedges instead of being a normal person and saying hello.”

Max’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “You have duties. Attend to them.”

Oscar chuckled under his breath. “Oh, I am attending to them. Protecting the lady, making sure her suitors aren’t lurking about. You know, the usual.”

Max’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Oscar didn’t flinch.

“Did she not mention this morning she hoped you’d join her out here?” the knight asked offhandedly, brushing frost off his shoulder. “But maybe I heard wrong. Could’ve been the wind.”

Max didn’t respond.

Oscar let the silence stretch for a moment before shrugging. “Well. Suit yourself.”

With that, he pushed off the archway and strode casually toward you, boots crunching against the frost-laden gravel.

Max didn’t move. His gaze followed Oscar with a cold, sharp focus, but his feet remained planted, weighed down by something heavier than pride.

Oscar’s figure grew smaller as he neared you.

And then, you looked up.

Your face softened in recognition, lips curving into a faint smile as your knight approached. Max’s chest tightened inexplicably.

“You’ve been out here a while, my lady,” Oscar remarked lightly, stopping beside the stone bench.

You laughed softly, the sound carrying faintly through the still air. “Longer than I meant to. Has it gotten that late already?”

“Late enough,” Oscar said, leaning slightly against the stone edge. “Cold enough too, I imagine.”

You exhaled, watching the breath curl away. “The cold’s not so bad.”

Oscar smirked. “If you say so. Though I passed Lord Max earlier. He was out here too.”

Your eyes lifted, blinking in quiet surprise. “Was he?”

Oscar hummed. “Looked like he was thinking about joining you. Or maybe just staring at you. Hard to tell with him.”

Your gaze flicked toward the distant paths, searching the empty garden.

Oscar watched you carefully. “Still might be lurking somewhere. Shadows seem to agree with him.”

You smiled faintly, but your eyes lingered on the hedgerows, thoughtful.

Oscar nudged a frost-coated pebble with his boot. “You know… if you wanted him here, you could just call him out. Maybe the shame will make his feet move.”

You glanced at him, arching a brow.

He smirked. “Just a thought, my Lady.”

Oscar pushed off the bench. “Come on. You’ll catch cold if you stay out much longer.”

As they turned to head back toward the manor, Max stood still, hidden beyond the hedges.

His hands clenched slowly at his sides.

And then, finally, he turned and walked away.

The frost crunched beneath his boots, louder than before.

—

The rest of the month at the Verstappen estate unfolded in slow, deliberate strokes, like the steady brush of winter wind against frosted glass.

The walls of cold formality between you and Max didn’t crumble overnight, but there were cracks now. Thin, hairline fractures where something softer threatened to seep through.

Max remained composed, distant, his every word and gesture measured. Yet every so often, something flickered.

A hesitation before he spoke. A glance that lingered longer than necessary.

Small, fleeting moments that barely seemed to matter, but they did. They built something fragile and new, fragile as frost on stone.

It started with the garden.

You had grown fond of the winter gardens. Quiet, stark, and untouched. The biting air sharpened your senses, and the stillness gave you space to breathe, something you often struggled to find within the Verstappen estate's cold, towering walls.

You were seated at the breakfast table one morning, fingers curled around your tea for warmth.

Your eyes traced the frost-laced hedgerows beyond the tall windows, lost in thought.

“I’ll accompany you today.”

The voice was quiet but certain, breaking through your reverie.

Your head snapped up.

Max stood across the room, a stack of documents in hand, his expression unreadable.

“…Pardon?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “To the gardens. I’ll walk with you.”

You stared at him, caught off guard. “You want to… walk. Outside. In the cold.”

A slight tilt of his head. “Yes.”

“You?”

His jaw tensed, a muscle ticking. “Is that so difficult to believe?”

“Frankly? Yes.” You set your teacup down carefully, studying him. “Don’t you have something far more important to do than trail after me like some-”

“I hardly think safeguarding my betrothed is beneath me,” he cut in smoothly, though something in his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

You raised a brow. “Safeguard me? Max, it’s a garden, not a battlefield.”

He didn’t answer, only held your gaze steadily.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “Well, far be it from me to refuse the protection of a lord.”

Max inclined his head, as if the matter was settled.

—

The cold met you both immediately as you stepped into the garden.

You drew your coat tighter. Max, of course, didn’t seem to notice the cold at all.

His steps were measured, boots crunching against the frost-dusted path. He kept half a step ahead of you, his hands clasped neatly behind his back.

The silence stretched. And stretched.

Then, abruptly-

“Those are evergreens.”

You blinked.

“…Yes. They are.”

Max gave a small nod, as if confirming a fact. “They endure the winter well.”

"That is typically how evergreens work."

Silence.

You bit your lip, fighting the smile threatening to surface.

Max cleared his throat, his eyes flicking forward again. "I thought it was worth mentioning."

"It was very insightful," you teased lightly.

His jaw tightened, though you noticed the faintest flush at the tips of his ears.

The silence stretched again, but it didn’t feel so suffocating now.

"I don’t…" he started, then stopped. His hands flexed behind his back. "I’m not particularly… good at this."

You tilted your head. "At walking?”

A sharp exhale, half a laugh, half frustration. "At this. Talking. Being-" he paused, as if the word itself burned. "-approachable."

You considered him for a moment. "You’re not as terrible as you think."

His eyes flicked to yours, uncertain.

"You just talk about trees a lot."

That earned a genuine huff of breath. Not quite a laugh, but close.

"I’ll… keep that in mind.”

—

Days slipped by like soft falling snow, quiet and unhurried. And so did the walks.

The first few outings had been brittle, every step and word sharp with awkwardness. But little by little, the stiffness began to melt.

It wasn’t anything grand, no sweeping gestures or sudden confessions, but something quieter. Subtle.

Max no longer fumbled for conversation, and you no longer waited for him to.

Sometimes you spoke. Sometimes you didn’t. And somehow, the silences became easier.

There was comfort in it, like the steady crunch of frost beneath your boots or the way your breath curled in the cold air.

It started with small things.

One morning, as you walked past a thicket of frost-covered hedges, Max slowed his pace, watching you with a flicker of curiosity.

“You always stop here.”

You glanced at him, surprised he noticed. “It’s peaceful.”

His eyes followed yours to the bare branches dusted in white.

“Hm.” He made a low sound of acknowledgment, then fell quiet.

The next day, you noticed he lingered near that spot, as if waiting for you to pause first.

He didn’t say anything, but it was enough.

Another morning, you stumbled slightly on the uneven path, your boot catching on a patch of ice.

Before you could right yourself, a steady hand caught your elbow.

You blinked, looking up.

Max’s hand hovered there, his grip careful but sure.

His expression was unreadable, but his touch was steady.

“You should watch your step,” he murmured.

You stared at him for a beat too long.

“I was,” you said finally, a little breathless.

His hand dropped back to his side, and he turned away before you could see the faint pink creeping up his neck.

The next day, the path had been salted.

You never mentioned it. Neither did he.

But the air between you felt lighter.

Then, there was the matter of the scarf.

It was colder than usual that morning. Bitter wind snuck through the layers of your coat and scarf, nipping at your skin.

Max noticed.

“You’re cold,” he said flatly.

You glanced at him, defensive. “It’s winter. Everyone’s cold.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, without a word, he unwound the dark wool scarf from his neck and held it out to you.

You blinked.

“…What are you doing?”

“You need it more than I do.”

You stared at the scarf, then at him. “Max, I’m not going to take your scarf. That’s ridiculous.��

“It’s practical,” he replied, tone perfectly serious.

You huffed a laugh. “Oh, is it? And what about you?”

“I’ll manage.”

His expression didn’t waver.

After a long pause, you sighed and took the scarf from his hands.

It was warm. Warmer than yours, and it smelled faintly of cedar and something crisp, like winter air.

You looped it around your neck, hiding a small smile.

“Happy now?”

Max gave a short nod. “Good.”

The next day, he wore a thicker coat.

You said nothing.

Neither did he.

But his gaze lingered on the scarf around your neck.

And that was enough.

The silences softened after that.

Some days, Max would walk slightly ahead, hands behind his back, eyes on the path.

Other days, he matched your stride, quiet but near.

Once, as you passed a row of brittle rose bushes, you paused, brushing your glove over the thorns.

Max stopped beside you.

“They won’t bloom again until spring.”

“I know.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“They’re still... nice to look at,” he admitted.

You glanced at him.

“That’s surprisingly sentimental of you.”

A slight shrug. “They’re resilient. Even now.”

You smiled, soft and secret.

Another day, you caught him watching you when you laughed at something small. A small squirrel darting through the snow, slipping and scrambling back up a tree.

Max didn’t laugh, but something flickered in his eyes.

Not amusement.

Something warmer.

He looked away when you caught him, but you didn’t tease him for it.

The walks stretched longer. The conversations grew softer.

There were no grand declarations, no sweeping changes.

Just the slow, steady thaw of winter.

And for now, that was enough.

—-

It happened on an ordinary day, so ordinary that you couldn’t have guessed it would stand out for any reason at all.

You were sitting in the common room, absentmindedly flipping through a file, your thoughts half on the task and half on the cup of tea cooling beside you.

You were aware of Max nearby, as you always seemed to be. The two of you had taken to spending your quiet moments together for some reason.

He was seated at the far corner, half-hidden behind a stack of papers, his focus presumably locked on his work.

Or so you thought.

It wasn’t until you reached for your tea, your eyes lifting momentarily, that you noticed it. His gaze.

Max was staring at you.

It wasn’t a casual glance or a quick flicker of attention. His eyes were fixed, steady, like he was studying you without even realizing it.

There was something almost unreadable in his expression, his usual guarded demeanor softened by a hint of… curiosity? Thoughtfulness? You couldn’t quite place it.

For a moment, you froze, unsure what to do. Should you look away? Pretend you hadn’t noticed? Confront him?

The options raced through your mind in a tangle, but before you could decide, Max blinked, as though snapping out of a trance.

His gaze shifted back to the papers in front of him, his movements abrupt and uncharacteristically awkward.

He cleared his throat quietly, shuffling the documents with more focus than necessary.

You felt your cheeks warm, a faint heat creeping up your neck. It wasn’t like Max to lose his composure, even slightly.

You wondered what he’d been thinking. Or if he’d even realized what he was doing.

“Everything alright?” you asked, breaking the silence before it could stretch uncomfortably long. Your voice was casual, light, as though the moment hadn’t happened.

Max didn’t look up immediately, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped, but there was a faint edge to it, something almost defensive.

You tilted your head, studying him for a beat longer. “You sure? You looked… distracted.”

He finally met your gaze, his expression unreadable again, but this time you thought you caught the faintest flicker of something.

Embarrassment, maybe, or irritation at being caught.

“I’m sure,” he said, his tone more even now.

“Alright,” you said lightly, turning back to your file with a small shrug. But your heart was still racing, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what had just passed between you.

As the moments ticked by, you resisted the urge to glance at him again, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of his earlier stare.

—

The two of you found yourselves in the library again, a rare moment of calm amidst the usual chaos.

Max sat across from you, his attention drifting between the book in his hands and the room around him.

For once, he wasn’t buried in paperwork or fielding endless questions from others, and the quiet was almost comforting.

The soft rustle of turning pages and the muted hum of your own reading filled the air.

It was a stillness that wrapped around you both, unspoken but shared, a silence that felt like an unacknowledged truce.

Until the peace fractured.

A faint groan of wood sliced through the quiet, subtle at first but growing louder, sharper. You frowned, your eyes flicking upward from your book.

Max noticed the sound too, his head tilting slightly as his attention shifted.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max didn’t answer right away, his eyes narrowing as the groaning intensified. “Stay here,” he muttered, already rising from his chair.

But before either of you could move further, the source of the noise revealed itself.

The tall shelf in the corner swayed unnaturally, its weight shifting in a way that made your stomach twist.

“Max-” you started, panic creeping into your voice.

And then it happened. The shelf gave way.

Books tumbled from its upper shelves like a cascade of water, filling the air with dull thuds and sharp cracks.

The massive structure pitched toward you, and you froze, your feet rooted in place.

“Move!” a voice yelled.

You barely registered the shout before a strong hand grabbed your arm, yanking you back with such force that your book flew from your grasp.

Your back slammed into something solid. Someone’s chest.

A deafening crash filled the room as the shelf slammed into the ground, its impact sending vibrations through the floor.

Books scattered in every direction, some sliding to a stop at your feet.

“Are you okay?” Max’s voice was sharp, edged with panic. His hand still gripped your arm, his knuckles white from the effort.

You turned toward him, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “I… I think so.”

His eyes darted over you, scanning for any sign of injury. “Did it hit you?” he asked, his voice quieter but no less urgent.

“No,” you managed. “I’m fine. Just… shaken.”

Max exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension left him.

He dropped his hand from your arm, stepping back to give you space, but his gaze stayed locked on you.

“I should’ve seen it coming,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I knew it was old..” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

You shook your head, still trying to steady your breathing. “You couldn’t have known it would fall like that.”

His brow furrowed, frustration flickering across his face. “I should’ve checked it. What if-” He cut himself off, his jaw working as he looked away.

“It didn’t,” you said firmly. “You pulled me out of the way. That’s what matters.”

Max’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, his frown deepened. “This shouldn’t have happened in the first place. I should’ve-”

“Stop,” you interrupted, your voice firmer than you expected. “Max, you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t push the shelf. You didn’t make it fall.”

He met your gaze then, his eyes dark and filled with a storm of emotions. “But I could’ve stopped it,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You hesitated, unsure how to respond. The raw guilt in his voice surprised you. It was rare to see Max shaken. You didn't even think it possible.

“You did stop it. At least for me,” you said softly.

He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Finally, he sighed and stepped toward the wreckage. “This is a mess,” he muttered, his tone shifting to something more clipped, controlled. “I’ll get someone to clean it up. You should go sit down. Get some air.”

You followed his gaze to the pile of broken wood and scattered books. The sight made your stomach twist, but you forced yourself to speak. “I’ll help. I was here too.”

“No,” Max said quickly, holding up a hand. “You’ve had enough of a scare for one day. Just… take a break, alright?”

You hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But only because you asked.”

Max gave a short, almost reluctant nod in return. “Good. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

As you turned to leave, you glanced back at him. He was already moving toward the debris, his focus shifting entirely to the mess. But the tension in his shoulders hadn’t eased, and you knew he’d be carrying the weight of what could have happened for a while.

And so would you.

—-

The realization that you fancied Max struck with all the subtlety of a thunderclap.

You fancied your fiancé. Oh, God. You fancied your fiancé.

The thought struck you like a bolt of lightning, the weight of it settling heavily in your chest as you paced back and forth across your room.

With each step, the walls of the room seemed to shrink around you, the air thick with the suffocating pressure of your own spiraling thoughts.

How had this happened? Why him? Of all people, why Max?

Stoic, distant Max, the man you barely even knew.

“It’s a trick of the mind. A reaction to circumstance,” you whispered, the words directed at your own reflection in the mirror.

Your face was pinched, your brow furrowed, and your eyes wide with a mixture of dread and something… else.

You rubbed at your temples, as though the act might banish the errant thoughts swirling in your mind.

“It’s admiration,” you said aloud, as if hearing the words would make them true. “Respect for his… demeanor. His resolve.”

You faltered, the image of Max flickering to life in your mind.

His measured gaze, the faint crease at the corner of his mouth when he was deep in thought.

The way his presence seemed to command the air around him.

Stop it.

“Lily!” you called out suddenly, your voice higher than you intended, panic rising sharply in your throat. “Lily, please, come here!”

The door creaked open, and Lily entered with her usual composed air, her eyes softening as soon as she took in the sight of your distress.

“My Lady, what’s wrong? You look...” she trailed off, hesitation in her tone as she glanced at you, clearly noting the unease written across your face.

“Don’t even say it,” you interrupted quickly, pressing your palms to your temples in an effort to stave off the rising panic. “I’m losing my mind, Lily. I think... I think I have feelings for Max.”

Lily regarded you for a long moment, her expression unreadable, but there was a subtle shift in her eyebrow.

A hint of intrigue that you couldn’t quite place. She did not seem surprised.

“Max?” she asked, her voice calm, though the faintest hint of something stirred in her eyes. “As in, your betrothed, Lord Max Verstappen?”

“Yes! That Max!” you exclaimed, turning toward her with wide, frantic eyes, feeling the chaos inside you deepen with every word you spoke. “What other Max would I be talking about?!”

Lily paused for a moment, her eyes assessing you, the soft lines of her face betraying no judgment, only careful understanding.

Finally, she spoke, her tone even, but with an edge of something like amusement.

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I’m glad it’s not hatred you’re feeling.”

You blinked, surprised at her response. “What?”

She gave you a small, wry smile, her hands folding gently in front of her. “I’m glad you don’t detest the man you’re engaged to. That’s a start, isn’t it? At least you’re not loathing him.”

You gaped at her, your mind still reeling from the gravity of your own emotions. “But this isn’t nothing, Lily! This isn’t just some passing fancy. I can’t stop thinking about him. Every time he’s near, I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. I don’t know how to act around him. It’s like- like he’s too close and I’m too far from myself.”

Lily’s gaze softened, but she did not rush to soothe you with easy words.

She tilted her head slightly, her voice measured but firm. “Feelings like these don’t appear overnight, My Lady. They don’t disappear either. But you’re right. You don’t know him very well yet. You’ve got time to work this out, slowly. You don’t have to have it all figured out now.”

You nodded, but the knot in your stomach only tightened as a new wave of uncertainty washed over you.

“I don’t know what to do with all of this, Lily. What if I say something wrong? What if I act like a fool in front of him? What if... what if he doesn’t care at all?”

Lily stepped closer to you, her presence steady, constant.

“Then he doesn’t,” she said simply. “If he doesn’t care, then... then you’ll be no worse off than you are now, My Lady. But know this: no other woman is taking him from you. He’s already yours. That’s settled.”

Her words settled over you like a weight.

He was already yours.

There was no escaping the finality of it, the truth in her calm tone.

The idea that you didn’t need to chase after him, that he was already tied to you in ways you couldn’t control, both unsettled and reassured you.

“I’m not even sure I want him, though,” you murmured, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t even know what this is. What if I’m just... confused? What if it’s just... attachment? I mean, he’s always there, he’s my betrothed, but- he’s not-”

“Stop,” Lily’s voice sliced through your spiraling thoughts. “You don’t need to understand it all right now. You don’t need to be sure of your feelings just because you’ve realized them.”

You took a slow breath, your chest tight as you tried to keep your composure.

Her words were soothing in their simplicity, but they didn’t change your feelings. “I just... I don’t know what to do with all this. It’s too much. Too fast. I can’t keep up.”

You let the words hang in the air, unsure if you were speaking to her or to yourself.

Lily gave you a small, understanding smile, though it was tinged with a trace of amusement.

She didn’t speak for a moment, as though carefully weighing her response. “Then take it slow, my Lady. You’re allowed to feel all of this, in your own time. You don’t have to rush to make sense of it. No one’s going to force you to figure it out on anyone else’s schedule.”

A tiny sense of relief swept over you, but the knot in your stomach still refused to loosen.

You glanced at the door, as though the mere idea of being near Max would send everything crashing down again.

“So... you’re saying I can avoid him... for a while?”

Lily raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the suggestion. “Avoid him?” she repeated, the edge of disbelief creeping into her voice. “My Lady, if I may-"

“But I can?” you pressed, cutting her off, eyes wide with urgency. “You said I could take my time, right? Well, avoiding him sounds like taking my time to me.”

Lily sighed, the sound long and heavy, as though you were testing her patience. “Yes, My Lady, your free will does indeed allow you to avoid him, if that’s truly what you wish.”

A spark of triumph flickered inside you.

“Perfect.” You stood straighter, a plan forming in your mind. “Call for Sir Lando and Sir Oscar.”

Lily’s eyebrows furrowed as she eyed you suspiciously. “What for, My Lady?”

You gave her an almost manic grin, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease slightly as your plan took shape. “They’re going to help me.”

“Help you... with avoiding your betrothed?” Lily asked slowly, a hint of disbelief creeping into her voice. She crossed her arms, studying you with a bemused expression.

“Yes,” you replied firmly, not an ounce of hesitation in your voice. “They’ll help me stay away from him. They’ll distract him, tell him I’m busy with... other things.”

Lily opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself, narrowing her eyes at you as if you had just suggested something ludicrous.

“My Lady,” she said, her voice dipping into a tone of mild reproach, “I must say, I don’t think that’s the most productive course of action.”

“Oh, please.” You threw your hands up dramatically. “I’m just trying to buy myself some time here. I can’t face him, not with these... feelings…whatever they are…bubbling up every time I even think about him. If I can just avoid him for a little while, I can breathe again.”

Lily shook her head, a small, resigned smile playing on her lips. “I don’t think this is the solution you’re looking for, My Lady. But if you insist on this... strategy, I can’t stop you.”

You raised an eyebrow, suddenly intrigued by the shift in her tone. “You can stop me, can’t you? You’re my lady’s maid. You’re supposed to stop me from making poor decisions.”

Lily raised an eyebrow right back at you. “I’m also supposed to help you navigate poor decisions, not prevent them entirely. And right now, this is just one of many decisions I’m going to let you make on your own.”

She paused, eyeing you carefully. “But just know, avoiding him isn’t going to give you the answers you need. It’ll only prolong the inevitable.”

You smiled sweetly, still not convinced. “Sometimes, a little delay is exactly what I need. Besides, it’s not like he’s going anywhere. We’re betrothed, after all.”

“That you are,” Lily replied, her tone becoming slightly sharper. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be avoiding him. You’ve got time, but you also have a responsibility to work through your feelings. Even if it’s uncomfortable.”

You glanced toward the door, already plotting the next phase of your plan. “I’ll figure it out. But in the meantime, I’m going to need some assistance.”

Lily sighed again, louder this time.

She didn’t speak for a long moment, her gaze flicking to the door as though she were silently debating whether or not to humor you.

Finally, she gave a small nod. “Very well. I’ll fetch Sir Lando and Sir Oscar. But I’m warning you, My Lady, this avoidance strategy won’t last long.”

You grinned triumphantly as she turned to leave. “Thank you, Lily. You’re the best.”

As she stepped out of the room, you sank back into your chair, letting your mind wander to the next step of your plan.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, but it felt better than facing Max and trying to make sense of the chaos swirling inside you.

For now, avoiding him was the only option that seemed remotely manageable.

When Lily returned with your knights, they each looked at you with varying degrees of confusion and amusement, but you gave them a firm, confident look.

This plan was going to work.

You could make it work.

“Alright,” you said, standing tall, as though the sheer gravity of your decision had transformed you into a seasoned military strategist. “Here’s the plan. We’re going to make sure Max never sees me again.”

A pause hung in the air, heavy and expectant.

“Or at least… not for a while.”

Lando and Oscar exchanged a glance. Lando’s lips twitched upward, the beginnings of a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, while Oscar’s furrowed brow and pursed lips betrayed his confusion.

“Right,” Lando said finally, leaning back and crossing his arms. His tone was equal parts incredulous and amused. “This ought to be good. What, exactly, do you want us to do, my Lady? This sounds like it’s going to be excellent for my boredom.”

Oscar’s expression tightened further. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered, half to himself, his arms now folded.

You straightened your back, summoning all the confidence you could muster. “I am entirely serious. From this moment forward, I have suddenly become… extremely busy.”

Oscar blinked. “Busy,” he repeated flatly.

“Yes, busy,” you replied, the words tumbling out with an exaggerated air of importance. “So busy, in fact, that I won’t have a single moment to spare. And I need you two to help make sure that’s… believable.”

Lando arched an eyebrow, a grin now fully blossoming on his face. “Wait, let me get this straight. You want us to..what? Fabricate your life for a bit?”

“Exactly,” you said with a flourish of your hand, as though the absurdity of your request was irrelevant. “A little misdirection here, a well-timed excuse there. Between the two of you, I’m sure you can come up with something convincing.”

Lando let out a low whistle, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “So, you’re asking us to keep Max, the man who has been running this house like a clock, distracted? To throw him off the scent entirely?”

“Precisely,” you said, lifting your chin.

Oscar looked less amused and more concerned, his practical nature coming to the forefront. “And what exactly is this plan supposed to achieve? You think if we keep him occupied for long enough, he’ll just… forget about you? You do realize who we’re talking about, right?”

“I don’t need him to forget,” you replied quickly, your voice rising slightly in pitch. “I just need him to be… preoccupied. Thoroughly distracted. He can’t be allowed to think about me, let alone come looking for me.”

Lando, who had been quietly observing, suddenly burst out laughing. “This is incredible. You’re trying to dodge the one man who could probably find you in his sleep.”

Oscar sighed again after a moment , clearly reluctant. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Excellent,” you said, clapping your hands together. “Now, let’s get to work.”

As Lando leaned back in his chair, still grinning, and Oscar reluctantly nodded his agreement, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of triumph. Surely, this would work. How hard could it be to outmaneuver Max Emilian Verstappen?

You tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of your mind whispering that you might have just made a very, very big mistake.

—-

Permanent tag list:

@papichulomacy

[yandere-romanticaa]

Yandere! Sunday, who forces you to act like the picture perfect spouse in each and every public gathering you attend with him. He has a public reputation to maintain and he will not allow you to squander it. He watches over you like a hawk, his golden gaze piercing the very fabric of your soul and the people around you are none the wiser.

Sunday has perfected the act of a kind and caring husband. People often mistake his gaze as fondness. My my, he's so smitten with you that he can't help but to look at you without fail, even if he's married to you and sees you every day. People across the universe swoon over this romance, dreaming about finding such a doting spouse such as Sunday.

However, there are times when he is not acting.

Despite his calculative nature, Yandere! Sunday truly does love you.

Oh yes, most earnestly so...

He likes to indulge himself in the sweet presence of your company. While he is the type of man who likes to have everything under his control, even he is not immune to some simple pleasures in life. Please, be a dear and indulge your husband a little. Ease his worries, talk to him , tell him all about your day. Even if you think it's nothing worth sharing, Sunday begs to differ. Even if he hears you say the same exact words hundreds of times, he will never grow tired of them.

Your voice, to him, is like cold dew on a warm summer day. It refreshes him, soothes him beyond belief.

Yandere! Sunday, who secretly likes it when he gets to hold your hand. Public displays of affection are not allowed but in private, he can be real damn shameless.

If he is so inclined, he will wrap his gloved hand in your own, fingers tightly intertwined with yours as he steals countless kisses from your darling lips.

The wedding ring on your hand is proof enough that you belong to each other. It's only natural for him to want to kiss you.

[altruistichellhound]

Prey vs Predator

Louis x Fem!Hybrid reader

In this you are a grey wolf snow leopard. Angst to half way good ending.

Warnings include: Implied smut, mentions of sex, Louis being a dick…

I exhaled softly through my nose, watching the deer get out of the bed we had just shared. Per usual I laid there as he left without even looking back at me. Stop, I need to stop… This one was the last time. I’m a carnivore, an apex predator, he was nothing but a deer. A deer that had me in the palm of his clawless hands. This was never going to happen again.

That’s what I said last week. Tonight the room was heavy with a haunting need. One so deeply engraved it was as if it was carved into my very bones. His hands ran down from my blank stomach to my leopard spotted thighs. He traced the spots with his finger teasingly. As his hands roamed his grip went between light and thoughtful, to rough and demanding. I couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. However, something was shaking my focus. I inhaled deeply, catching a sent different than his. It was not something, but someone that had caught my attention. The smell of a rabbit was barely prominent on his coat.

Leaving my body Louis fell to the bed, both of our heavy breaths filling up the room. We had rules, a lot of them, but the question was nagging at me. Who was this rabbit? These thoughts kept me silent and motionless, finally Louis spoke.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” He turned his head to look at me.

My heart skipped a beat when he looked at me, “Yeah,” I sat up in the bed, “actually… I was wondering, you smell like a rabbit?”

His eyes filling with anger he snapped at me, “That’s none of your business now is it?”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Whatever,” collecting my clothes I dressed swiftly and practically ran out of the room.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I looked up to see who I had just ran into. Looking down on me on was deer with a large set of antlers. The sun cascaded over his more than slightly serious face. I quickly scrambled to my feet, brushing off my school uniform.

“It’s fine, be more careful next time,” he patted at his green jacket.

While both his tone and eyes were very simplistic there was a snobbish air about him.

“y/n,” I spoke as I looked into his eyes.

“Louis,” he extended his hand out to me which I accepted.

Shaking his hand he had a strong, firm grip. Suddenly it clicked in my head, “Aren’t you the main actor of the drama club?” Star of the show and whatever?”

“Yes that would be me.” It sounded like something that he was proud of, “Goodbye then,” he nodded to me as he walked away.

From that moment on I thought about him daily. When I showed up to drama club that same day it was not a shock to see him, though he seemed somewhat surprised to see me. What surprised him even more was that being able to look at me entirely he noticed my wolf face, but my spotted legs and wide bushy tail. Over weeks of watching him lead the club, the way he spoke, walked, carried himself… All reasons that led us up to this point. His strength and willfulness was admirable. Always being among the strongest animals in the room it was not often I felt weaker than someone. When we first slept together I’m not sure who was more shocked.

“Let’s set ground rules then,” Louie stood facing me with his arms crossed. “We both have reputations to uphold.”

I nodded in agreement, “Yes I think rules are a good idea.”

He hummed at my agreement, “First and foremost this is between you and me, no one else.”

I agreed to that before he continued to speak, “Second, no meddling in each others personal lives. There is no reason to know each other beyond this and the club.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “You mean no small talk then? I’d prefer to know the person i’m sleeping with.”

He left out a sigh that sounded somewhat understanding, “I suppose that’s not unreasonable…” he thought for a moment, “We can get to know each other. However, you can know me; not my personal life or the things that surround it.”

I again nodded as that sounded more reasonable. He further explained some more rules such as no discussing our “situation” in public, acting as no more than acquaintances in drama club and a few other simple ones. I only had one more rule to add on.

“Either of us can call this off at any time, no questions asked,” I reached out my hand to shake on out agreement.

He thought about my rule only for a second before reaching out and firmly grabbing my clawed hand.

“Why are we going to the gardening club?” I looked at Legoshi whom looked back at me.

“Ah.. I wanted to visit a friend…” His tail swayed back and fourth seemingly excited but nervous.

“How come you didn’t go alone?” I questions him lightly.

“I think I want you to meet her?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“You think?” I asked as we arrived at the club.

It was beautiful, the sun gleamed against the plants and its warmth swallowed up my fur. It smelled deliciously of flower and herbs. Another more delicious and mouth watering scent caught me by surprise. A very familiar scent of a red deer. Legoshis head dropped in concentration, obvious he had caught that same smell. I looked at him unsure of what to do, he looked back and walked over to a small building. I followed closely behind before he lifted his hand carefully to turn the knob. Before he could the door swung open causing him to yank his hand back.

There is the door way stood Louis, wide eyed, a shocked look covering his face. Behind him stood a small white rabbit.

“Legoshi?” He spoke before looking behind the wolf at me, “y/n?”

My jaw dropped and I spit words out, “Oh I uh, I forgot! Jack needed my help with..” I began backing up. “I’ll catch you later Legoshi!” I turned to leave, the second I was out of sight I sprinted away.

The rest of the day I avoided Louis the best I could. It was stupid really, it’s not like I was his girlfriend. We were just friends, hell not even friends. Then why? Why were my cheeks hot with anger? What was this wretched feeling in my stomach that made me want to hurt anyone that looked at him? A feeling of dread consumed me as I considered skipping drama club. I could run away to my dorm, but then Louie would know that I care.

Instead, I dragged myself to drama club. I would prove to not only him, but myself, that I in fact did not care who he was with! When I arrived at the club Louis was outside, with a rabbit. That same damn white little rabbit as before. She was as tiny and meek as they come. Louie brought his hand up to pat her head gently. I clenched my teeth together so hard I thought my canines would shatter, the rabbit walked away. I stood there in a towering stand of rage and jealousy. Suddenly, a hand was on my shoulder. I turned to look at whoever it was, a grey would stood towering behind me. Before he could say something I spoke up.

“Who is that rabbit from the gardening club?”

His face contorted into a mixture of shock and happiness, “That’s Haru!” He half shouted at me before slapping his hands over his mouth.

I raised an eyebrow at him, “Haru huh?”

We walked into the club together, Louis looked at me the same way he always does. I wasn’t sure if it was good that he was pretending nothing happened, or if it was the worst thing possible. Either way it’s what he was doing and I wasn’t going to contest that. Whilst the club proceeded like normal Bill was unusually flirty with. Every so often he would throw a harmless comment at me. Staring and offering more help than usual. It seemed that the others had noticed this, specifically Louie who almost looked jealous. It dawned on me that in more recent drama club news Bill had been dumped by his girlfriend not all that long ago. It was more than obvious to me that he wasn’t actually interested, he needed an ego boost. I wasn’t most inclined to be the person to help him, however it seemed as though it would benefit me. While I was never going to actually let him near me, it seemed enticing to flirt a little.

I could feel eyes burning into the back of my head. It made me nervously excited. After club had ended everyone began to back their bags and get ready to head home as the sun was setting. Just as I was about to leave Louis asked me to stay behind momentarily to discuss a few set displays with me. Without a word he locked the door after everyone was gone, he practically pounced on me. It was like I was the poor meek prey and he was like big scary predator ready to devour me whole. His hands were rough and full of greed, kisses hungry and ready to take my body as his own. After we were finished the night confirmed two things, one: I was in love with a deer, and two: I had to have him as my very own or not at all.

The choice in my mind was solidified, either Louis would commit to me or I would be leaving him forever. I could handle it if he rejected me. What I couldn’t handle is being in this position any longer. The air was cool today, clouds partially covered the sun. I had asked Louis to meet me outside behind the dorms, it was private and no one really came back here. I stood there, leaning against the brick with my heart beating out of my chest. In the distance I spotted a distinct set of antlers.

“Why did you call me here?” Louie stood right in front of me, his voice as cool as the air.

I sucked in air and my nerves along with it, “I’m… Well i’m not sure how to being this up.”

His face looked annoyed, “Would you spit it out?”

“I want to end this, our situation.” I put emphasis on situation.

He looked at me to see if I was serious, “Okay. I know it’s rule but seeing as you break them I can too. Why?”

Exactly what I had hoped for, “Because I fell in love with you.”

He thought about it for a second, “Okay.” He walked away.

While my face remained calm inside I was furious. Okay? What did he mean okay! I waited for him to walk away before I turned, punching the brick wall. It crumbled underneath my powerful hand, as well as my own bones.

“Fuck!” I shouted into the sky.

The next day my hand was wrapped and healing. My heart was still bleeding heavily and Legoshi had been nothing but questions.

“I still don’t understand why you hit that wall.” He looked at me with an empathetic look.

I sighed heavily, here’s to breaking our rules right? “I was sleeping with Louie, and when I told him I love him all he said was okay.”

Legoshi stared at me plain faced, zero expression and no word, “Legoshi?” I quipped.

He didn’t respond, still stuck in time. “Oh my god did I break you!” I grabbed his hand and yanked on it, “Wait I need someone to talk to!”

The large wolf snapped out of it, “You’ve been sleeping with Louie? WHAT.” He practically screamed at me while somehow falling out of his chair.

When he scrambled to his feet I explained everything, how we met, how we ended up sleeping together, our rules, and most importantly how I fell in love. It was then he also told me that he too had fallen in love with a herbivore.

“We’ll look at us,” I said, “Falling in love with our food.” I couldn’t help the cackling laughter that followed.

“Cosmic joke, I know.” He laughed with me.

“I guess I have to quit drama club…” I said sadly.

“What?” He asked me with a concerned tone, “You love drama club, you can’t quit because of him.”

I looked at him with defeated eyes and explained to him how I just couldn’t face Louis. He argued back, telling me I couldn’t let one person ruin my passion. I decided he was right, I couldn’t let someone ruin something I had worked so hard for. Legoshi walked with me that day, we walked in together and I put on a fake face of uncaring confidence. It was easy to ignore Louis as he had also decided to ignore me.

After drama club was over I walked out with Legoshi. He told me about how he was going to the gardening club to say hello to Haru and ask her to dinner. I watched him walk away, looking back at the door I wondered if I should go back in and face Louie alone. I had nothing more go lose so why wouldn’t I confront him? The least he could do is give me closure. I walked in together find Louie standing in the middle of the club, he looked at me before quickly looking away.

“Louis we need to talk,” I stepped closer but he didn’t move.

“Louis!” I yelled at him in a stern voice, yet again nothing.

“You are such a coward!” I turn to leave the room, it was a mistake to go back in.

A force ran up behind me, yanking my body towards him I collided with his chest

“What did you call me?” his voice was angry and his eyes looked almost on fire.

“I said you’re a coward! I told you that I loved you and you said nothing! You could’ve rejected me, gave me some sort of comfort.”

He left go of me, “Because I’m in love with you too and i’m scared!”

Both our faces dropped in shock. Louis grabbed me tightly, his hands moved to cup my cheeks as he brought me in for a passionate kiss.

When we pulled away, both breathless I was only able to utter out one sentence, “What do we do now?”

That question was answered by a series of quick pecks and my clothes being removed. Working it out physically was better than words.

[stormsthatrage]

Imagine: Samantha Manson rents an apartment with other students in university because she wants to pay her own way through college. One night, the other students throw a party. Sam takes refuge in the campus library during this, because she does not want to be around that. But eventually the library closes for the night, and Sam has to go back.

Sam walks in on the partygoers, still there, hanging out around a "summoning ritual" for fun. They're cleaning up -- the ritual didn't work, obviously.

Sam wordlessly halts the clean-up efforts in their tracks by taking one look at the summoning circle, seizing a paintbrush, bodying people out of the way, and making a dozen minor adjustments to the summoning circle.

It's Sam. No one stops her, and no one is brave enough to ask any questions.

Sam finishes, then walks off without saying anything.

The partygoers look at each other, and then immediately try the summoning ritual again.

(Look, Sam has a reputation as a goth and, if you believe in that stuff, as a witch. Not to say that any of them actually believe in that stuff, but sometimes it's fun to pretend like you do, and, well. They already decided to give it their best shot tonight, and they know that a Sam-approved summoning circle is the best shot they'll get.)

They read out the spell. The candles flare, the flame turning a dark, poisonous green, then blow out. A surge of black light shoots up from the summoning circle, and a presence thickens the air around them.

Before them appears a being that they know, in their soul, is not of this world.

A creature of the realm of the dead looms before them, crown ablaze with fury. "Who dares--"

Sam, nonchalant, wanders back into the room. Wanders over to the summoning circle. Casually erases, with the tip of her shoe, what they know from their brief study of their occult book to be the containment layer of the summoning circle.

Casually says, "Hey, Danny, what pizza toppings do you want?"

The presence fades, but does not vanish completely. "Oh, come on Sam," says the being that an animal part of them recognizes as of the realm of the dead. "What the hell, you know I hate that."

Sam wanders back out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "Well, I hate having my thermos broken!"

The being floats out of the summoning circle, and takes on the shape of a boy, touching down to the ground. The presence fades even further, until they wouldn't be able to tell the creature wasn't a boy if they hadn't already seen.

"Okay, first of all, that was at least 50% Tucker's fault--" it says, trailing after Sam. The conversation becomes unintelligible as they go to Sam's room and shut the door.

The partygoers are left in silence, with paint that has been turned to ash, brand-new candles that have been burned to stubs, and a terrifying new knowledge of the existence of the beyond.

And, for the unluckiest of them, terrifying new knowledge that the person they share a roof with has regular, real, dealings with the dead.

(Twenty minutes later, the pizza arrives. With a pineapple topping, of course.)

[f0point5]

Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader Masterlist

She’s still bejewelled - Y/N finds out F1 wag pages are once again speculating she is dating her best friend, Max Verstappen

It’s (not) a cruel summer - Y/N and Max enjoy the summer break

August slipped away - Y/N does a Q&A to catch up with her followers after summer break

Burning red- Lando puts his foot in it

Holy ground - Fans discuss their excitement to see Y/N and Max interact at Zandvoort

I’m the one who understands you - A window into Max and Y/N’s home life

It turned into something bigger - Y/N’s comments about her childhood friend, Mick Schumacher, lead to a social media firestorm

They’d say I’d hustled, put in the work - A look at Y/N’s podcast, Dirty Air(time)

Shake it off - Determined to forget her worries, Y/N goes out parting with Max and Lando

They say home is where the heart is - Fans discuss how Y/N and Max love being roommates

(We’re) in the club doing I don’t know what - Fans look back on Max and Y/N’s Club Rat Renaissance

Pauses, then says, (he’s) my best friend - Y/N spends the day in Amsterdam while Max does press at Zandvoort

How evergreen, our group of friends - Snippets of Y/N and Max’s other friends on the grid and beyond

We’re faster and never scared - It’s a dramatic Friday in the Zandvoort paddock

I watch Superman fly away - The drama continues as Y/N and Mick have a run in in the paddock

Long live all the magic he made - Y/N supports Max as he equals the record for most consecutive wins

Remember the footsteps - A look at Y/N and Mick’s lifelong friendship

He has his father’s eyes…his father’s ambition - A look at Y/N’s relationship with Jos

I love your handshake, meeting my father - Fans discuss Jos’s perspective on Y/N, and her relationship with Max

And maybe it was egos swinging - Everyone speculates about the cause and consequences of Y/N and Mick’s falling out

I fell from the pedestal - Y/N becomes the subject of internet trolling after her fall out with Mick becomes public

Don’t know how long it’s gonna take to feel okay - Unable to deal with the stress and trolling, Y/N goes home to Switzerland, cutting off Max

My reputation’s never been worse so - Y/N’s absence sparks concerns amongst those closest to her

If someone comes at us, this time I’m ready - Y/N’s friends publicly support her as the hate continues

You don’t want to know me, I will just let you down

My words shoot to kill when I’m mad - Mick and Y/N finally talk

Something in your eyes says we can beat this - Max has a tough start to an important weekend, but his luck is about to change

(We) saw something the can’t take away - Y/N is there as Max wins at Monza and breaks another record

This is life before you know who you’re gonna be - Netizens discuss Max and Y/N’s enemy era

20 questions, we tell the truth - Y/N catches up with her followers after a hectic couple of weeks, and meets a man in Monaco

On a Wednesday, in a café - Y/N’s podcast with Daniel leads to some interesting revelations

Do you really want to know where I was? - Y/N and Max spend a day at the factory as rumours begin to swirl

I make it look oh so easy - Y/N and Max choose different confidants as they both attempt to avoid the elephant in the room

You’ll find me on my tallest tiptoes - It gets harder for Y/N to keep her secret

Slow motion, double vision in rose blush - Y/N gets back in the saddle while Max watches from the sidelines in more ways than one

Carnations you had thought were roses - Two of Y/N’s secrets are revealed

Didn’t it all seem new and exciting - Max leaves Y/N behind in Monaco as she reflects on her date

Loose lips sink ships all the damn time - Y/N heads to Switzerland for a special appointment as her relationship with Max is put under a microscope

I don’t wanna miss you like this - Y/N and Max deal with the distance between them differently

Your finger on my hairpin trigger - Tensions run high as Max has a bad day on track and Y/N gets defensive

Takes one to know one - Y/N’s much needed talk with Elliot is interrupted by an explosive qualifying in Singapore

I want to tell you not to get lost in these petty things - Max’s streak comes to an end and he and Y/N look ahead to Suzuka

Forever going with the flow, but you’re friction - Max asking Y/N to fly out early to Japan leads to tension and Y/N turns to Daniel for advice

I drive down different roads - Fans, and Y/N, speculate about her budding relationship

(They) knew what it was, he is in love - Netizens set out to prove that Max is in love with Y/N

(We) counted days, I counted miles, to see you there - Y/N arrives in Japan and is reunited with Max

Balancing on breaking branches - Max receives an unexpected delivery as Y/N answers questions from the media and her mother

It’s you and me, there’s nothing like this - As Max gets back to business as usual in Suzuka, wag social media does it’s thing

My (baby flies) like a jet stream - Max has a good day on track and Y/N’s Vogue article goes live

I can read you like a magazine - The internet reacts to mentions of Max in Y/N’s Vogue article

He’s passing by, rare as a glimmer of a comet in the sky - Red Bull securing the WCC is overshadowed by the revelation that Max hates podcasts

The lingering question(s) kept me up - Y/N does an Instagram Q&A

I just may like some explanations - Y/N answers more questions

How you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry - Set in 2017, we learn what led to Y/N’s dad being dropped as Max’s sponsor, early in their friendship

People started talking, putting us through our paces - When Y/N is spotted out with Elliot, Instagram, Max, and Lando react

I don’t wanna touch you - Y/N finds herself short of breath on her padel date. Later, she appears on Max’s stream

(I) will never make my parents’ mistakes - Y/N’s dad hears about her dating life, and her mother weighs in

Drinking on a (yacht) with you all over me - Y/N and Max kick of his birthday celebrations with a day on the water, while Elliot changes his tune

I’d pick you up and we’d go back in time - Y/N and Max bring in his birthday somewhere special

We’re gonna be timeless - It’s Max’s birthday, but Y/N isn’t the only one planning surprises

Take the moment and taste it - Max enjoys a birthday boat day with family and friends, and Vic makes an accidental discovery

There’s glitter on the floor after the party - It’s the morning after night before. Max and Vic discuss Y/N’s letter

Movin’ on was always easy for me to do - Y/N and Elliot meet up to talk and Y/N’s friend weighs in. Y/N’s tweets irritate Max

Your eyes look like (being at) home - Y/N goes riding, Lando proposes plans, and Max has plans of his own

No I didn’t hear the news, ‘cause we were somewhere else - Max and Y/N arrive in Doha, but rumours about Max’s Monaco exploits follow them

You heard the rumours from (your friends) - Max attends Media Day while Y/N hangs out with an old friend

‘Cause they don’t know about the night in the hotel - Max’s GQ interview exposes an interesting part of Max and Y/N’s past

I was dancing around, dancing around it - Y/N and Clara celebrate Max’s on track triumphs

(You) stand up, champion tonight - Max becomes a three time world champion

This life is sweeter than fiction - Max wins in Qatar in a physically gruelling race

Life makes love look hard - Back in Monaco, Y/N is seen out with Elliot, and he makes a bold suggestion

Can we always be this close? - Y/N and Max have a chill day at home and while Twitter notice Max made an admission in an interview, Y/N makes an admission to Victoria

Inescapable, I’m not even gonna try - Y/N and Max spend a day at the factory, where both realise they may have something to work on

You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me - Y/N’s podcast with Oscar comes out, on the same day she finally films one with Max. Meanwhile, Max uses the sim in an unconventional way

Yes, I remember what you said last night - Y/N’s plans for COTA baffle Christian, and Y/N learns an unexpected fact about the past

Take out, then take me home - Y/N prepares for Austin, and an interview with Max comes out

Love’s a game, wanna play? - Y/N tries her hand at padel after watching Max compete, and Max steams with Redline

Rosé flowing with your chosen family - Clara and Y/N spend the day together, and Clara becomes determined to finish what she started in 2017

(We are) a flight risk, with a fear of falling - Y/N and Max head to the US

Ain’t it funny, rumours fly - Y/N heads to a Ferrari gala as rumours swirl about Max’s next career move amid reports of infighting at Red Bull

As if I don’t already see (it) - The circus settles in to Texas and Y/N’s dad weighs in on Elliot

Can you see right through me? - Y/N and Elliot make a king and awkward paddock debut

I’ve been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night - Y/N sheds light on her dating history while she and Elliot struggle to adjust to life in the paddock

It’s morning now, it’s brighter now - Y/N reaches out to an old friend for support. Meanwhile, Daniel tries to support Max

The moment I could see it - Max takes another win in Austin while Elliot reaches his breaking point

You’ll find the real thing instead - Y/N and Elliot have an honest conversation

In the name of being honest - Bonus part where Y/N answers Instagram questions after the Austin GP

I’m asking you why - More of Y/N’s post Austin Q&A

You’ve got a girl at home and everybody knows that - Y/N and Max are suspects in the wildest paddock rumour yet as they wrap up their trip to Austin

You learn my secrets and you figure out why I’m guarded - Y/N gets brutally honest with Mick as Max plays goalkeeper twice

You saw the truth in me - Max cuts it close before media day as reports surface of security threats in Mexico

They tell you that you’re lucky, but you’re so confused - Max attends a gruelling media day as Y/N deals with the heat of Mexico

Laughing with (your head in my) lap, like you were my closest friend - Everyone has a tough quali day

This is the golden age - Maxico delivers another win, and Y/N celebrates with tequila

(You would never) me darling, but who could stay? - Y/N and Max arrive in Brazil for a short break before the race

No one has to know what we do - Max and Y/N fall off the map and enjoy some private time

I can’t say anything to your face - Max and Y/N continue to leave each other flustered and Max starts press for the Brazilian GP

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm - Max takes pole in difficult conditions and Y/N gets near her breaking point

We were cards sharks, playing games - Max wins the sprint and Y/N wins games of her own

🚨I’ve had to add a second masterlist for all posts after this point. That can be found here 🚨

[doumadono]

Upper Moons & Muzan in heat - headcanons

Warnings: fem!reader, some extra short smut, suggestive content Synopsis: If Muzan and the Upper Moons were in heat, how would they behave? Requested by: @within-eyesight ♥

MASTERLIST

Muzan

When Muzan Kibutsuji, the progenitor of demons, enters his heat, his desires become insatiable. Known for his pride and desire for control, Muzan prefers to initiate spicy time by seducing his chosen partner, whether it's a demon or a human. He uses his supernatural charm and allure to captivate them completely. Muzan's approach is subtle yet forceful, employing a mix of his demon powers and charismatic personality to bring his partner under his spell. Once he has them fully enraptured, Muzan revels in dominating them completely, pushing their limits and indulging in their darkest fantasies.

​Kibutsuji, his eyes glowing crimson, leans in close to you, a human whose heart races in both fear and anticipation. He runs a slender finger along their trembling jawline, relishing the way your breath hitches in response. "Oh, my dear, you have no idea how desperately I crave you. Your every breath, your every moan will be mine to savor. Surrender yourself to me, and I promise to show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams." His voice drips with a potent mixture of desire and command, sending shivers down your spine. Muzan's predatory gaze never wavers as he slowly traces a trail of delicate kisses along your neck, his lips brushing against your skin like velvet.

You remain unaware of the exact moment when and how Muzan overpowers you, pinning you forcefully to the wooden floor of his chamber. His immense weight presses down upon you relentlessly as he thrusts his cock back and forth, filling the room with the sounds of his deep grunts and your subdued whimpers. Desperately, you clutch onto his shoulders, clinging for dear life.

Douma

Douma, the Upper Moon Two, has a reputation for his sadistic and playful nature. When he experiences his heat, he becomes even more mischievous and unpredictable. Douma initiates spicy time by luring his desired partner into a twisted game of cat and mouse. He enjoys toying with their emotions, tantalizing them with hints of pleasure while also teasing and tormenting them. Douma's approach is characterized by a constant push-and-pull dynamic, alternating between intense moments of passion and sudden withdrawal. He thrives on the thrill of the chase and the element of surprise, making the experience an exhilarating rollercoaster ride for both himself and his partner.

​Douma smirks devilishly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he toys with you, a mere human being who struggles to resist his charm. He teases you with a sultry laugh, his voice tinged with anticipation. "Oh, my sweet little plaything, you can try to run, but we both know you'll come crawling back for more. The game has just begun, and I can't wait to see how long you can withstand my insatiable appetite." His voice carries a seductive lilt as he closes the distance between you, his fingers dancing along your exposed skin of your shoulders with featherlight touches. Douma revels in the power he holds over you, your reactions fueling his insatiable desire for control.

With both legs positioned against his wide shoulders and your head tilted back, you express audible pleasure by moaning and screaming his name with every forceful motion Douma delivers, intensifying as he penetrates you deeper due to the angle, his sturdy grip caressing your breasts as he pounds into you with full force.

Akaza

Akaza, also known as Upper Moon Three, is a relentless and fierce warrior. During his heat, his primal instincts take over, intensifying his already formidable strength. Akaza initiates spicy time by engaging in combat-like foreplay, combining his martial arts prowess with his desire for dominance. He enjoys testing his partner's resilience and stamina, pushing them to their limits physically and emotionally. Akaza revels in the raw power and passion of the experience, seeking to establish his dominance over his partner. However, beneath his aggressive exterior, Akaza also craves a genuine connection, albeit in a somewhat twisted and possessive manner.

​Akaza, his eyes burning with a primal fire, circles you, a brave human who stands your ground despite your trembling, trying to fight him. His voice carries a hint of aggression, mingled with desire. "You dare to challenge me? Your strength is admirable, but it's your resolve that entices me. Let's see how long you can endure my touch, how long you can withstand the overwhelming heat that consumes us both." His deep voice resonates with a mixture of dominance and longing as he closes the distance between you, his powerful aura enveloping you. Akaza's touch is both demanding and tender, leaving a trail of heat in its wake as he explores your body with possessive determination.

Soon, you're riding him, feeling the touch of his calloused hands on the curves of your waist, urging you to quicken your pace with each movement of your hips. Akaza's head tilts backward as he endeavors to enhance the pleasure, meeting your rhythm by thrusting his own hips into you, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix with each push.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo, the Upper Moon One, embodies elegance and refinement. During his heat, his typically composed demeanor becomes more intense and passionate. Kokushibo initiates spicy time by creating an atmosphere of elegance and sensuality. He engages in elaborate rituals and ceremonies, drawing inspiration from traditional Japanese aesthetics. Kokushibo's approach is marked by grace and precision, focusing on the art of pleasure and the exploration of his partner's senses. He values the harmony of body and soul, seeking to transcend the physical realm through a deep connection with his chosen partner. Kokushibo's desires are a delicate balance of refinement and primal urges.

​Kokushibo, his dark hair cascading around him like a waterfall, gazes into the eyes of yours, a human filled with a mix of curiosity and nervousness after meeting Upper Rank One for the very first time. He speaks softly, his voice resonating with elegance. "Ah, my dearest child, let us transcend the boundaries of pleasure. Through artful touch and sacred connection, we shall discover depths of ecstasy beyond mortal comprehension. Allow me to guide you on this exquisite journey of the senses. Trust me." His words hold a poetic quality, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom and desires. Kokushibo's movements are graceful as he traces intricate patterns along your skin, every touch deliberate and filled with reverence. He revels in the symphony of your desires, seeking to create an experience that blends the physical and spiritual realms.

You find yourself on all fours, feeling the weight of Kokushibo's strong hand pressing your head firmly against the mattress as he thrusts into you with an intense, primal rhythm, his grip tight on your hip as your plump ass jigles with each of his thrusts. You can't help but anticipate the bruises that will surely adorn your hips tomorrow.

[yuusishi]

. . . exchange student drama !

synopsis : you get chosen as the exchange student from NRC to NBC ! How will these two take it…?

pairings : Malleus Draconia , Rollo Flamme (sep.) x gn!reader

genre : fluff & angst, can be read as platonic

a/n : this has literally been in my drafts since Rollo’s SSR EN release and I only finished it cuz my math class was so stupidly boring 😭 I may have gone a little overboard with Rollo’s part :3

ROLLO FLAMME !!

Upon the announcement during an orientation at Noble Bell College, his face remained stoic, but a feeling of excitement overcame him for a split second when he heard your name as one of the transferees for the exchange event.

Rollo won’t admit it, but you caught his attention during you and your unfortunate mage friends’ stay at the college. Your curiosity with the city brought him a special joy, especially coming from a non-magic user from an entirely different world.

There is a slight chance he’ll try to indoctrinate you into his beliefs of hating magic and all its users. I mean, what can you really expect from him after what happened at Fleur City?

It was hard to get along with him after that entire spectacle, even harder to avoid him since he’s the student council member assigned to watch over you during your stay. He’s prideful and judgmental, though you noticed he shows that side of him slightly less when he’s with you.

He shows his care through actions that can be justified as “just the work of the student council president” such as reminding you to eat during lunch breaks, walking you to your classes, and making sure you get to your dorm room safely. He never dares to show anything that can seem beyond simple formalities.

Rollo knows better than anyone that you’re, at the very least, displeased with his actions and would prefer he stay as the student council president when interacting with you. So he does, he doesn’t try to entertain or be overly friendly with you unless you make the first move.

Though occasionally if ever you choose to sit next to him in the courtyard during lunch, he would let his curiosity get the better of him and start asking you what your home world was like.

When it's time for you and the other exchange students to leave and return to NRC, he walks you to the mirror of the school. He's just there to bid farewell as the student council president is what he says to himself.

But he can't shake off even the smallest feeling of sadness watching you pass through the glass back to your rightful school.

MALLEUS DRACONIA !!

Oh, he was utterly miserable. If it wasn't for Lilia's intervening there would've been thunderstorms around the school for the entire week you were gone.

(that's probably a hyperbole but we never know with this man)

He, obviously, still attended to class and his duties as a housewarden like normal. He can't just neglect them because he was missing someone. There was just a strange air of melancholy that surrounded him whenever one of the diasomnia students or even any one of Lilia, Sebek, and Silver came up to him.

His nightly walks around ruins and ramshackle lasted a little longer than usual, trying to take in the scenery to tell you about any changes he observed once you've returned. You would want to hear about anything new outside your home, right?

If he's not particularly busy he goes around Sage's Island in search of any new ruins to take you to, an indirect way of saying “welcome back, I missed you”.

He's constantly debated with himself whether it would be better to leave the history of the place to discover together or to learn it in advance and tell you during your walk there.

By the third out of seventh day you were gone, he has 100% resorted to writing you love letters (that he won't be sending, he knows you're coming back anyways). He's just silly and misses you like that.

But once you're back he's beyond overjoyed. He won't be tackling you once you pass through the mirror, he still has to maintain his reputation as the prince of briar valley and diasomnia's housewarden, but he will be requesting more of your time than usual. Maybe even a little clingier if either of you spends the night at each others’ dorms, his hug just being a little bit tighter and basically latched onto you once you’re both off in bed cuddling.

[drvscarlett]

Let him cook

Charles Leclerc x Masterchef contestant!reader

Series Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

A/N: Got this idea because the masterchef trophy is similar to the Australian GP trophy. This is going to be a series

Charles_Leclerc posted a new photo

liked by CarlosSainz55, PierreGasly, and 365,000 others.

Charles_Leclerc Add professional chef to the list

User1 aint no way you cooked this

User2 nice try Charles but we all saw that pasta video

CarlosSainz55 mate drop the # of the private chef you hired, these look delicious

Charles_Leclerc I told you that I made this myself CarlosSainz55 Lies!!!!

PierreGasly since when did you learn how to make coq au vin???

Charles_Leclerc not you too PierreGasly you should invite me sometimes so I can judge your cooking

Y/NCooks posted a photo

YNCooks last date night before i enter masterchef australia. credits to the boyfriend for the lovely photos

Friend1 Y/N i know this is your dream for a while now. I hope you win. We will cheer for you our next masterchef australia!

YNCooks awww stop! ur making me cry

User1 OMG she is finally competing, goodluck Y/N!

User2 Y/N always talk about how its her dream to enter masterchef, I'm gonna watch it everyday and hope she wins it!

User3 Goodluck Y/N! I hope you become the next masterchef australia!!!

Mystery Box challenge episode

There was a building reputation in the kitchen that you are one of the strong homecooks of the season. After winning the past 2 mystery challenges, you were extremely determined to do well and seek for a third streak. The mystery box today was all about italian cooking, a cuisine that you have been comfortable due to the close ties of your boyfriend being signed to an Italian team.

"And what do we have here with you today Miss Y/N" Matt Preston asked as he approached the work table together with George Colambris "You seem rather comfortable and in your own zone. Its like an ordinary Tuesday date night"

You gave a small chuckle with that mention "That's actually pretty on point of you to say as Tuesday is my date night with the boyfriend"

"Ah so maybe that's why you are so inspired because you are in love"George teased.

"Well I have to admit that there is a little pressure to do well in this challenge or my boyfriend's family will get mad at me"you quipped back a reply.

The judges suddenly leaned a little interested to learn more about your personal life, "So your boyfriend is italian?"

"He is not but he might as well be. He spends a lot of time there"

"It must be hard to not see him a lot since you are here competing" Matt says

"It's a price we are willing to pay. He has been supportive of my dream as I am with him" you gave an encouraging smile as you continue to chop the sweet potatoes.

"We hope to meet that boyfriend of yours because he is one lucky man because that dish looks delicious!" George says before they left the station.

Somewhere in Bahrain, Charles Leclerc is grinning upon watching the replay of the episode. He was beyond proud of what you have achieved as a contestant in MasterChef. He wished that he could do more to express his support towards you but you have an agreement with him to keep things lowkey for the meantime. It was a reasonable decision as he didn't want to overshadow your career but it was nice to know that you two are a private thing but never a secret.

He was so engrossed to repeating the boyfriend clip that he didn't notice that Carlos snuck up beside him.

"What are you watching there?" Carlos asked his teammate

"Oh its nothing" Charles says as he immediately exited the Youtube app "I didn't notice you there, you scared me"

"If you weren't too into your phone then you would have noticed me calling you" Carlos explained "What are you watching on your phone that got you smiling like that?"

"Nothing, I just saw an ad"

"Hmm sure an ad" Carlos was pretty sure that Charles was watching MasterChef but he couldn't care anymore to ask which country because there was too many so he decided to just let it go "Cmon Fred is asking for us, were late for a meeting"

"Carlos! Why didn't you start with that?"

Cake challenge

You were exhausted because you spent the early hours of the morning watching the Jeddah GP. It was a thrilling race to see Charles bag his first podium of the season so you can say that its worth it. Besides, you were able to talk to him after the race so it sweetens the deal even more.

Filming begun for MasterChef and the judges brought out balloons for the mystery box challenge.

"Your challenge today is to make the most imaginative and creative birthday cake that you ever had" Gary explained "The pantry is filled with all the cake flavors you can ever imagine so be creative and show us what you've got"

Baking has never been your strongest suit. It was all about precision and measurements as small increments can make a huge difference. Today, you were determined to do well and you wanted to use the podium finish of Charles for the cake.

It was a struggle to bake the cake, cool it, and pipe it in under 60 minutes. You felt the pressure getting under your nerves as your hands started shaking when you were piping the cake details with 10 minutes left. There was a sigh of relief when you finished just 5 seconds away from the judges calling the time.

There were plenty of beautiful cakes in the room so it was a shocker for you that the judges called you in front to present your cake.

"Judges what I have for you today is a three layer cake with the raspberry,almond, and pistachio with chocolate to seperate the layers and a lemon buttercream frosting."

"You told us you can't bake, that seems like a lie" George says as he cuts through the cake "Look at that layers"

"The layers are actually inspired by the italian flag, its an homage to the boyfriend. Its actually a cake that I made thinking about him" you explained.

"That is simply gorgeous. The cake is very moist and the balance with the flavors is that its not too sweet or nothing overpowering. Your boyfriend is a lucky lucky lucky man to be baked a cake like this" George complimented.

"Does your boyfriend cook?"Matt asked as he took a bite

"Oh God no. I have to cook or else the kitchen will be on fire"you laughed "But I can't drive so maybe that's his payback"

"You seem to show the beautiful dynamics of your relationship when you cook something inspired by him. I wish you two the best" Matt's genuine comment was a heartwarming moment.

Its unfortunate that you didn't win this challenge but you were able to showcase your support for your boyfriend.

Melbourne GP meets MasterChef

This was another challenge as you were elected as a team captain for the second team challenge. You were extremely nervous when you were transported with your team mates from the blue kitchen to an unknown location. It was even more nerve-wracking after you've realized where you are.

"Welcome to the Albert Park where the Australian Grand Prix is underway for this weekend" Matt introduced "Your challenge is to prepare two dishes: a pasta and a fish dish to be served to the talented drivers in Formula 2"

There was a little sigh of relief as you were dealing with the Formula 2 drivers. It was a lot of weight on the shoulder if you will be serving food to your boyfriend.

"The practice sessions will be starting in a few minutes. You have 90 minutes to prepare your dish and an hour to serve them"

All you know was that you started organizing the team to put them in charge of the dishes that you will be making today. You cross your fingers that the color red brings luck to your team today.

Meanwhile, the paddock was buzzing with cameras and Charles immediately noticed that there were some new film crews around the Formula 2 drivers. His eyes did a double take after he recognized the face of three familiar judges he often sees on MasterChef Australia.

"What's going on? Isn't that MasterChef Australia judges?" Charles quizzed

"That's MasterChef Australia, they have this team challenges and they will be feeding the Formula 2 drivers" Silvia answered as she was informed earlier that morning about the extra exposure in the paddock today.

"Why Formula 2? Why not us?" Charles whined

"If you want then you could go ask Ollie for food" Silvia suggested

That sets a lightbulb moment for Charles as he excused himself to talk to the young driver. He will not miss the opportunity to taste the cooking of his secret girlfriend and support her in doing her craft.

It puzzled Ollie Bearman to see that Charles has been looking for him once the practice session was over. He was even more confused by his request.

"So you want me to get you food?" Ollie asked "Doesn't Ferrari have a catering?"

"Its not just food, its the MasterChef Australia food" Charles explained without giving out too much information "I just love the show okay?"

"You can come along, I'm sure they don't mind" Even better.

So here is why you were genuinely surprised to see that Charles Leclerc is walking inside the MasterChef tent with a red and blue plate in his hand. He was grinning wildly as if he was a kid on a sugar rush.

"Ohmygod we are serving food to Charles Leclerc!" one of your teammates whispered.

"Hi goodafternoon! What's the dish for today?" he asked politely.

"Well we have a pan fried cod with a pea puree and then some green grapes some fennel over there and then for the pasta lemon ricotta and beet tortellini" you answered as the team captain "We hope that its up your liking"

Charles gave you that smile that seems to light up the whole room, "I look forward to it, thanks!"

Its moments like this that you wish that you could reach out for him but you understand that its not yet the time. Its nice to see the support that you have for each other even though its all in private and away from the eyes of the media.

"Goodluck on your race Charles!"

There was a smile on both of your faces as you both continued to go chase your dreams.

[gothamite-rambler]

Aphrodite: So, you were planning to kill him and drown his kingdom, destroying his family—all because he didn’t kill your son?

Poseidon (sheepishly): And… to uphold my reputation as a god.

Aphrodite: Right. You were ready to take away his loved ones over a son who survived battle and some ego boost?

Poseidon: When you phrase it like that, I sound just like a Zeus.

Zeus: Why is my name synonymous with being an asshole?

Aphrodite: Stay out of this. Ares, sweetie, can I take a swing at your uncle?

Ares: You really want to?

Aphrodite nodded with an innocent smile.

Ares: Uh, Hephaestus, are you okay with that?

Hephaestus: I wanted him released, and honestly, I’m indifferent to most of this family. Go for it.

Aphrodite (her fists ready): You have a five-second head start.

Poseidon (running away): Why am I the villain here? We’re gods!

Aphrodite chased after him, brandishing a club.

Aphrodite: You tried to take away the love of his life after you made him open a wind bag! I hold you responsible for his mother’s death!

Poseidon: Oh come on, that was beyond my control!

[arvlelt]

not just an agreement.

pairing - jinx x fem!reader

cw - suggestive, teasing, jinx calls reader sweetcheeks and sweetheart (it suits her sm idk leave me alone), flirting, fluff(?), intimacy, yearning(?), making out, jinx is handsy and bold w reader, reader is a lil shy, def got a little carried away w the plot, oopsies

request from anonymous - Hiiii! I have a reqest for a Jinx X fem mechanic reader? a more romantic/suggestive plot, with the mechanic maybe helping Jinx with some weapon upgrades and they're flirting back and forth

w. count - 2.1k+

a/n - i acc really like this, lmk your thoughts! kinda proofread but lmk if theres anything wrong:))

at first it was just an agreement between you and silco.

he was concerned about the amount of time jinx was spending alone, and figured she needed a companion. preferably someone with the same interests and talents as jinx herself, since she could be a little picky about the people she surrounds herself with.

she had a little reputation of hurting her companions in the past because of her hallucinations, and even when she didn't have them -- she just loved messing with 'em.

this was in retaliation, insisting that she was better off alone.

reason being, silco was a bit hesitant in trying to find her a companion again but knew she needed it.

but all that hesitancy faded the minute he had met you.

there was a lineup of people that were waiting to see if silco would hire them.

word got out that silco needed a mechanic, and people started lining up immediately.

they had met up at his hideout, everyone that volunteered would be blindfolded and taken by one of his minions to not give away his place.

while some were hoping the position would get them more shimmer or more power and recognition in the undercity, you just wanted to make weapons or fix things.

you were hoping you could do more -- go beyond with whatever supplies he had. you were sure he had to have good shit, considering he and his partner made shimmer.

he could see the slight glimmer in your eyes that interested him.

"this one."

his thick voice echoed throughout the walls, his men following protocol and leading the other people out. which they showed disappointed as they walked out with slumped shoulders.

you were a bit shocked, looking around before your eyes landed on silco in his chair again, "what's your name?"

"y/n," you replied, taking another glance around the place. you had never seen so many of these things in one place at once - and with no damage done to them.

silco stood up from his chair and walked over to what had caught your eye.

"well, y/n. truth is..." uh oh.

your mind immediately went to worst case scenario. maybe you should of thought this through, considering you were trying to work for silco, of all people.

silco seemed to sense your sudden alertness and gave a slight chuckle, "don't worry. i'm not going to hurt you," that seemed to ease you up a bit as you took two weary steps away from him... just in case.

silco gave a smirk as he sat back down in the chair to make you feel a bit better, "smart one you are. but, truth is... you're not going to just be a mechanic for me. you're going to be a... companion to my daughter, jinx. in return, you'll get special benefits - allowance and a place of your own."

you felt your heart drop to your ass.

what?

companion? daughter? jinx?

that's what the arrangement was at first. you were weary at first because of the things you had heard about her, but as time passed and you got more comfortable with jinx, you didn't really need the 'special benefits' anymore.

you especially gave those up after jinx had found out about your little 'deal,' as jinx had called it, and nearly went on a rampage with her 'pow pow' machine gun.

the only thing that really became a non-negotiable was lending a place to sleep.

....as silco may or may have not grown a soft spot for you as well.

"...hey! you still here with me?" jinx waved her hands in your face, helping you out of the little memory you were remembering, wondering where you would've been if you hadn't volunteered.

you were sitting on a chair, with jinx standing as she messed with her trinkets, your head resting on your arm that rested on her little desk she had.

you shook your head slightly, "no, sorry. i was just thinking, what were you saying?" you stood up, showing more interest in whatever she was doing.

you were helping her figure out how she could power up one her new little trinkets that she had created.

jinx put a hand on her hip, "awh c'mon, you mean you didn't hear my entire rant of how i discovered this to wooorkk?" she dramatized as she started walking in little circles.

you gave a slight laugh, sitting on her desk, putting one hand on her desk and tilting your head on your shoulder a bit, "awh, c'mon, you can't repeat yourself? i wanna know what you had to say," your tone was teasing as you copied her words.

and god jinx had a love/hate relationship with the way it made her stomach flutter.

you always knew how to unconsciously reassure her.

jinx stopped her circles with her back turned to you before she swiftly turned around, using her shimmer to suddenly appear right in your face before you could register she even turned around.

something you learned early on with jinx, she didn't know personal space at all - at least not with you.

in the last couple months that you were working for silco, yes you were making him weapons, but you started to take a liking to jinx.

and unbeknownst to you, jinx was starting to take a liking to you too.

jinx gave a slight smirk at the way you backed up on the desk, your ass on it slightly, both of your hands came behind you to lay flat on the desk.

in the time that you two spent together, you both learned plenty about the other. while you learned that jinx needed more reassurance than others and things of the sorts, jinx was observant of the way you'd get nervous whenever she got close to you.

of course she learned other things about you but she was fixated on how you'd act when she would get a little too close to you.

no matter if it was to observe whatever weapon you were fixing or making - or to just mess with you - she'd see the way you suddenly get quiet and stammer on your words a bit.

and you suddenly felt how close she was to you, her body wasn't pressed up against you, but your bodies would graze one another ever so frequently.

in a way that had you both breathing a little heavier, both of you looking at each other's lips.

jinx suddenly leaned in more with a tilt of her head, making you lean more back, your entire ass almost nearly on the desk.

her hands went on her desk behind you, enclosing you against her.

she had a such an evil grin on her face - she knew what she was doing - as she began speaking and telling you again what she discovered.

"...so i basically figured out that, to make this go boom! i need to get that 'ol gemstone i have in my gun to make it explode..." she trailed off as she noticed you were staring very heavily at her lips.

not even noticing her hand inching closer and closer towards your hip that rested on her desk.

your eyes widened slightly when you felt her take another step closer, making your legs part and practically forcing you to sit on the desk properly.

"whatcha' lookin' at, sweetcheeks?"

you felt speechless.

you weren't going to deny the recent tension you had felt with jinx recently, in the last two months. but you never thought you'd end up in this position with her.

you thought back. the fleeting touches, the way she'd look at you when she was explaining something, the way she would make excuses to get close to you, always wanting touching you.

it all started when you two had decided to have a sleepover.

you were supposed to have gone back to your place hours ago, but jinx had told you she felt lonely and she wanted you to stay the night.

at first, it was just like helping a friend, it was something harmless.

'you were only helping a friend out,' you'd try to convince yourself in your head.

at least you thought.

you two were giggling like fools as you painted poorly done portraits of one another on a time limit.

you both sat on opposite sides of each other, a box holding up the canvas's.

jinx had her tongue out in fake concentration as she rushed through it, eyes flickering to the timer every now and then.

"3...! 2...! 1...!" jinx counted down and once you heard buzzer go off, you put your brush down and put your hands up.

you laughed as you looked at jinx and then the portrait, paint-covered hands coming up to your mouth to cover it, folding over your stomach in your seat at how ridiculous yours looked.

jinx put her hands on her lap, "it can't be that bad, lemme see!" she reached over and grabbed your canvas.

she barely gave it a glance before she set it back down, "... moving on, look at mine! i think i did, pretty good," she turned it around, leaning on it slightly and looked at her hands like she just accomplished something, blowing her hands for affect.

and honestly she hadn't.

it was probably just as bad as yours.

that innocent face portrait, turned into finger-painting the little hut you created for her - to decorate it.

a comfortable silence between you two, and it was a rare moment where everything in jinx's head was quiet.

jinx was on the other side of the hut, looking at you decorate it before looking back at what she was doing.

"is it okay if i paint something on ya?" she said it so casually you thought you misheard her.

"huh? what?" you asked her with furrowed eyebrows.

jinx chuckled, "can i paint something on you? you don't have to say yes, you just look... like you'd make a good canvas," and lord have mercy, did that make your legs wanna give out.

you gulped, swallowing hard at the feeling of your throat going dry at her words, "yeah, sure. uh- how do you want me to sit?"

you began busying yourself with moving some things around so you two had space on her floor where her blankets and pillows were.

"just lay down for me and i'll take care of it, 'kay?" jinx began grabbing the paint and brushes she needed.

she ended up painting a very pretty floral design on your shoulder that went all the way down to your wrist.

and maybe got a little distracted and drew little doodles on your stomach once you fell asleep, the brush strokes lulling you to sleep.

the whole thing was quite intimate, and after that happened., something was different between you.

you weren't sure if it was just you that felt it, you were sure you were the only one until she started doing things that had you thinking otherwise.

like now, how you're so tempted to lean in and kiss her, just let her hands roam your body. her eyes were very obviously looking down between your eyes and lips.

she gave a slight huff of amusement, "knew you didn't have it in you, sweetheart," she had a slight smirk as she backed up, walking away, feeling a sense of victory at how tongue tied she had you.

that was basically all you had to know as you suddenly walked up to her and grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her around and grabbing her face and connecting your lips with hers.

jinx let out a slight moan at the sudden feeling, not hesitating to close her eyes and put one hand on your hip and the other on your waist, she pulled you into her.

you loved the way her lips felt on yours - the way she would slightly open her mouth to mold hers with yours felt so euphoric.

at first it was slow as you took slow steps back as you felt one of her hands wandering down to your ass, grabbing the fat of it and giving it a light squeeze.

you let out a slight noise against her lips when feeling her back you up more and having her hands trail under your shirt to your lower back, "mm,"

you could feel her smile against your lips at your reaction.

and before she could put you against her desk once more-

"jinx!"

you both pulled away with flushed faces, looking in the direction of where the voice came from.

silco was calling for her again.

jinx looked back at you with a grin, hands coming up to your waist and giving it a slight squeeze before letting you go, "and for the record, i do have it in me."

you watched as jinx got her gun and gave you a little chuckle, watching as she walked down her ramp, "oh, is that what that was? tryna prove a point, even though you get all nervous when i get too close to you, sweetcheeks?" her voice faded as she walked off to go and see what silco wanted, braids swaying in a way that had you entranced with the way she walked.

you huffed but couldn't stop the smile from making it's way to your face.

you didn't know what the hell this was, but it was not just an agreement anymore.

[bitchiswild]

Possessive Desires

G!P Wonyoung x F! Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: creampie,mean girl wony, smut, giving head, idkkkk 🤷‍♀️

A/n: IM BACKKKK…I THINKKK🥳🥳🤷‍♀️

Wonyoung was well aware of your interest in her friend, but he seemed oblivious to it all. Whenever you were around, being charming and friendly with him, he remained clueless, like an airhead who couldn't see beyond your niceties. This only fueled Wonyoung's jealousy, as she couldn't fathom how you could flirt with her friend right in front of her. After all, she knew she was attractive—every girl wanted her attention. But it seemed like you only had eyes for her friend.

The repeated occurrences of seeing you shower her friend with attention only intensified Wonyoung's envy. It irked her to see her friend effortlessly capture your gaze, as if she didn't deserve any attention herself. With her looks, intelligence, and wealth, Wonyoung couldn't understand why you weren't drawn to her instead.

Gradually, Wonyoung came to realize that her jealousy wasn't really about you—it was about her friend getting the attention she craved. The attention that she wished was directed towards her. Deep down, Wonyoung harbored feelings for you, but her pride and ego prevented her from confessing. Yet, amidst her internal struggle, she couldn't ignore the occasional glances you threw her way.

Feeling frustrated and determined, Wonyoung realized she needed to take action. She concocted a plan—a scheme designed to make you desire her attention, to prove that she was more than just a jealous bystander. Her goal was clear: she wanted to see you beg for her affection, to demonstrate that she had the power to captivate you, even if it meant embracing her reputation as a "mean girl."

There you were, looking stunning as ever, but who was it all for? That dim-witted friend of her. Wonyoung longed for you to dress up for her instead, to be her doll, a doll she could lavish with all her wealth. With determination burning inside her, Wonyoung rose from her seat and confidently made her way over to you.

As she approached, she took charge, moving your chair to face her, a smirk playing on her lips as she caught you off guard.

"Y/n," she purred, your name rolling off her tongue like honey.

"Wonyoung, hi, can I help you?" you asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Wonyoung clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "What are your intentions with Eli, hmm?" Her gaze locked with yours, causing a flutter in your stomach.

As you tried to gather your thoughts, Wonyoung leaned in closer, her gaze intense. "I've noticed how you've been cozying up to Eli lately," she continued, her voice low and compelling. "But let me make something clear, Y/n. Eli may be my friend, but I won't stand by and watch someone take advantage of him."

You could feel the tension in the air, Wonyoung's words hanging between you like a challenge. But instead of backing down, you met her gaze squarely. "I assure you, Wonyoung, my intentions with Eli are purely friendly," you replied, your tone steady despite the swirling emotions inside you.

Wonyoung's expression softened slightly, but the fire in her eyes remained. "Good," she said, straightening up. "Because if I ever find out otherwise, you'll have me to deal with." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away. She paused for a moment, then unexpectedly, she stopped and turned back towards you. "Oh, and you look cute today," she said with a faint smile, before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving you to ponder her words and the unexpected flutter in your heart.

You were in the midst of a conversation with Eli, the atmosphere light and easy between you two. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself getting lost in the warmth of his company. However, the tranquility was shattered when Wonyoung approached, her steps deliberate and her gaze fixated on you with an unsettling intensity.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" she drawled, her tone laced with thinly veiled disdain.

Eli's expression shifted to one of confusion as he glanced between you and Wonyoung. "Hey, Wonyoung," he greeted cautiously. "What's up?"

Ignoring his greeting, Wonyoung narrowed her eyes at you, her voice cutting through the air like ice. "Y/n, you seem to be spending an awful lot of time with Eli lately," she remarked, her words tinged with accusation.

Your stomach tightened as you braced yourself for what was to come. "We're just friends, Wonyoung," you replied, trying to maintain your composure in the face of her scrutiny.

A smirk played at the corners of Wonyoung's lips as she leaned in closer, her words dripping with venom. "Friends, huh? Funny, because it looks like you're trying a little too hard to get his attention," she whispered, her gaze boring into yours with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine.

Eli's brow furrowed in confusion as he sensed the tension between you two. "Wonyoung, what's going on?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Wonyoung straightened up, her facade of superiority firmly in place. "Oh, nothing, Eli," she replied sweetly, her eyes never leaving yours. "Just thought I'd remind Y/n here to stay in their lane."

With that final jab, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving you and Eli to exchange bewildered glances, the tension thickening in the air as you both grappled with the implications of Wonyoung's words.

As the days passed, Wonyoung's constant interference in your interactions with Eli became increasingly bothersome. Her persistent questioning and snide remarks left you wondering if there was more to her behavior than met the eye. Could it be that Wonyoung harbored feelings for you herself, explaining her relentless interruptions and scrutiny?

After class ended one day, you decided to retreat to an empty classroom to study, hoping for some peace and quiet away from Wonyoung's prying eyes. As you made your way down the deserted hallway, lost in your thoughts, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Wonyoung.

"Y/n, fancy meeting you here," she greeted, her tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension at the unexpected encounter. "Wonyoung, hi," you replied cautiously, unsure of what to expect.

Wonyoung's eyes glittered with a mischievous glint as she stepped closer, her gaze locking onto yours. "So, still spending all your time with Eli, I see," she remarked, her voice dripping with insinuation.

You bristled at her remark, a mixture of frustration and curiosity bubbling within you. "What's it to you, Wonyoung?" you shot back, unable to mask the edge in your voice.

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of Wonyoung's lips as she leaned in closer, her breath ghosting over your ear. "Oh, nothing, Y/n," she whispered, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Just making sure you're not forgetting who you really want."

With that cryptic remark, she pulled away and sauntered off down the hallway, leaving you standing there, bewildered and more confused than ever about Wonyoung's true intentions.

As you settled into the quiet confines of the empty classroom, books and notes scattered across the desk before you, Wonyoung's cryptic remark echoed in your mind. "Just making sure you're not forgetting who you really want." What did she mean by that? The question gnawed at you, distracting you from your studies as your thoughts drifted back to Wonyoung and the complexities of your interactions.

Despite your best efforts to focus, your mind kept wandering, replaying moments spent with Wonyoung and Eli, trying to decipher the true nature of your feelings. Did you truly want Eli's company, or was there something more drawing you to Wonyoung? The realization sent a jolt of uncertainty coursing through you, leaving you grappling with newfound emotions and the daunting task of untangling your desires. As the hours passed, you found yourself lost in a tumult of conflicting emotions, unsure of where your heart truly lay.

As you prepared to leave the room, the door swung open, and there stood Wonyoung, a smirk playing on her lips. "Wonyoung," you greeted, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

She stepped into the room, her gaze unwavering as she sauntered closer, the smirk never leaving her face. "Well, well, well, look who's here," she teased, her tone dripping with amusement.

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of her gaze upon you. "What do you want, Wonyoung?" you asked, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure.

Wonyoung's smirk widened into a knowing grin as she closed the distance between you, her movements deliberate and confident. "I'll be honest, Y/n. I've been eyeing you for a while, but you had to pick my friend. While I stood there waiting for you to give me the same amount of attention," she husked, her voice low and seductive. "But to sum it up, I want you."

Her words hung in the air, and before you could respond, she reached out and caressed your face, sending a shiver down your spine. You were left speechless, the intensity of her gaze leaving you powerless to resist her allure.

"I... I didn't realize," you stammered, your mind racing to process her confession. Your heart pounded in your chest, the air thick with anticipation and an undeniable undercurrent of sexual tension between you.

Wonyoung's eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Well, now you know," she whispered huskily, her lips brushing against your skin in a tantalizing caress.

A shiver ran down your spine at the intimate gesture, your senses overwhelmed by the electrifying chemistry crackling between you. Despite the uncertainty swirling in your mind, there was no denying the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Wonyoung, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you both.

Your eyes locked with Wonyoung's, the intensity of her gaze sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through you. In that charged moment, her eyes flickered down to your lips, a silent invitation hanging between you.

Without hesitation, she gripped your jaw with a firm yet gentle touch, pulling you into a kiss that ignited a blazing inferno of desire within you. Her lips were soft against yours, her kiss possessive and electrifying. As the heat between you intensified, her hands began to caress your sides, trailing down to your hips with an intoxicating urgency.

Breaking the kiss, she pressed feather-light kisses down your jawline, her lips trailing a path of fire along your skin. Your breath hitched as she pushed you against the nearby desk, the cool surface contrasting with the searing heat of your desire.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you surrendered to the intoxicating whirlwind of sensation, Wonyoung's touch igniting a passionate inferno that consumed you both in its fervor.

At the height of passion, Wonyoung suddenly pulled away, her movements swift and purposeful. With a seductive grace, she lowered her skirt, revealing the hard cock, which slapped against her stomach. The sight left you breathless, your senses overwhelmed by desire.

As you watched, captivated by the tantalizing display before you, Wonyoung seized control, pulling you down to your knees with a commanding grip. Your heart raced with anticipation as she looked down at you, her eyes dark with desire.

"Suck," she commanded, her voice husky and commanding, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. With a hunger that bordered on desperation, you eagerly complied, unable to resist the irresistible pull of Wonyoung's dominance.

As you obediently took Wonyoung's cock into your mouth, a wave of primal desire surged through you. The taste of her on your tongue, the feeling of her hardness against your lips, sent a thrill coursing through your veins. With each eager movement, you elicited soft moans and whimpers from Wonyoung, her pleasure echoing in the air, driving you to new heights of arousal.

Her moans were like music to your ears, spurring you on as you lavished attention on her, relishing every gasp and whimper that escaped her lips.”Thats it baby.” Lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your actions, you surrendered yourself completely to the heady sensation of pleasuring Wonyoung, each moan she uttered pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As Wonyoung's moans grew more urgent, you felt a surge of desire coursing through you. With each flick of your tongue and gentle suction, you sought to drive her pleasure to new heights. Her hands tangled in your hair, urging you closer, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Unable to resist the overwhelming urge to taste her fully, you took her deeper into your mouth, eliciting a guttural groan of satisfaction from Wonyoung. Her hips bucked against you, the rhythm of her movements matching the frantic beat of your heart.

With a swift movement, Wonyoung pulled you off her, drawing you close against her as desire blazed in her eyes. Before you could react, she guided you over to the desk, her touch firm yet gentle as she positioned you just the way she desired. Your heart pounded with anticipation as she pulled your skirt and underwear down, baring you to her hungry gaze.

Pressing her body against yours, she trailed kisses along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With a low growl of need, she rubbed her hard cock against your ass, the friction igniting a fierce hunger within you both. The air crackled with electricity as you surrendered to the intoxicating heat of the moment, the boundaries between you blurring in a haze of raw desire.

With a husky whisper against your ear, Wonyoung's voice dripped with desire as she spoke, "I'll make sure you forget about Eli after this, and only I'm on your mind." Her words sent a jolt of arousal coursing through you, the promise of forbidden pleasure igniting a fire within.

As she continued to tease and torment you with her words, her hands roamed your body with a possessive fervor, stoking the flames of passion to new heights.

Wonyoung wasted no time in fulfilling her promise. Gripping your hips with a firm yet commanding hold, she positioned herself behind you, her hardened length pressing against your entrance with undeniable urgency.

With a guttural groan, she thrust into you with unbridled force, filling you completely with her throbbing cock. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you as Wonyoung plunged into you again and again, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

Lost in the frenzy of passion, you surrendered yourself completely to Wonyoung's relentless rhythm, the sound of your combined moans filling the air as she claimed you as her own. With each powerful thrust, you felt yourself pushed to the brink of oblivion, the intensity of your connection transcending all boundaries as you were consumed by the raw, primal heat of desire.

As Wonyoung relentlessly pounded into you, her voice filled with primal desire as she unleashed a torrent of dirty talk. "You like that, don't you?" she growled, her words dripping with lust. "You're mine now, Y/n. Mine to fuck however I want."

Her hands tightened on your hips, her grip possessive as she drove into you with unrelenting force. "I bet you've never been fucked like this before," she taunted, her breath hot against your ear. "But you're going to remember me every time you close your eyes."

With each punishing thrust, she pushed you closer to the edge of ecstasy, her words fueling the flames of desire that consumed you both. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together in a frenzy of pleasure and abandon.

Her words became a symphony of domination and desire. "You're mine to spoil, mine to fuck whenever and wherever," she groaned, her voice thick with lust. "You belong to me, Y/n, and I'm going to claim every inch of you."

With each powerful thrust, she drove the point home, her grip on your hips tightening as she took you with an intensity that bordered on primal. "No one else can satisfy you like I can," she declared, her voice a husky whisper against your skin. "You're mine, Y/n, and I'm going to make you scream my name."

Lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure and dominance, you surrendered yourself completely to Wonyoung, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony as you were consumed by the fiery passion that bound you together. In that moment, there was no doubt—you belonged to her, completely and utterly, and she intended to make sure you knew it.

As the intensity of your connection reached its peak, the air was filled with a chorus of moans and gasps, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of flesh meeting flesh. With each impassioned cry that escaped your lips, you found yourself calling out Wonyoung's name in a fervent plea for more.

"God, Wonyoung," you moaned, the sound choked with desire as pleasure surged through every fiber of your being.

Her own voice joined yours in a symphony of ecstasy, each moan and groan echoing the raw intensity of your shared passion. "Yes, Y/n," she groaned, her voice thick with need. "Scream my name, let me hear how much you want me."

With a swift yet commanding movement, Wonyoung flipped you onto your back, her eyes smoldering with unbridled desire as she hovered over you. The sudden change in position sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you, your heart racing in anticipation of what was to come.

As she thrust into you with renewed vigor, each movement driving you deeper into the throes of ecstasy, you couldn't help but cry out her name in a symphony of pleasure and need. "Wonyoung!" you screamed, the sound echoing through the room as pleasure surged through every fiber of your being.

Her own moans mingled with yours, the air thick with the heady scent of desire as she claimed you as her own. With each powerful thrust, she pushed you closer to the edge of oblivion, her dominance igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As the sounds of slapping flesh echoed through the classroom, punctuated by gasps of breath and cries of pleasure, the intensity of the moment reached its peak. "F-Fuck, Wonyoung, I'm gonna cum!" you cried out, your voice trembling with ecstasy.

"Yes, that's it, baby," Wonyoung groaned, her thrusts never faltering as she drove you relentlessly towards the edge. "Cum all over my cock."

With a desperate cry, you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as Wonyoung's skilled touch pushed you closer to the edge. Her fingers found your clit, rubbing and pushing you to the brink, until finally, you couldn't hold back any longer.

You came hard on her cock, your body convulsing with the force of your release as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. The vice-like grip you had on her cock only served to drive her further over the edge, and with a guttural groan, Wonyoung emptied herself inside you, painting your insides white with her release.

As Wonyoung collapsed on top of you, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you both gasped for air. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, the heat of your passion still lingering in the air as you lay together in the aftermath.

When Wonyoung lifted her head to look at you, her gaze was intense, filled with a possessiveness that sent a thrill coursing through you. "I don't want you to talk to Eli anymore. You're mine," she husked, her voice laced with determination.

Your stomach fluttered at her possessiveness, a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. But as you looked into Wonyoung's eyes, you knew that you wanted nothing more than to belong to her completely.

With a soft smile, you nodded in agreement, your heart feeling lighter at the thought of relinquishing your ties to Eli. "I'm yours, Wonyoung," you whispered, your voice filled with conviction. "Only yours."

In that moment, you knew that your connection with Wonyoung was something special, something worth holding onto with everything you had. And as you held her in your arms, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you, knowing that you had found your place by her side.