#like they each Get Each Other a little more than they would like to but to. me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

voyter · 2 days ago

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DEVOTION — jeon jungkook.

genre. a song of ice and fire au. 103 AC. smut. knight!jungkook. queen!reader.

your knight is completely devoted to you, and while it’s his duty, you can’t help but wonder if there’s something more behind his unwavering loyalty.

word count. 17.1k words (FUCK i am so sorry) warnings. this fic might be a bit confusing if you havent watched game of thrones or house of the dragon !!! misogyny. gender dynamics. seokjin and namjoon cameo hehe. forced / arranged marriage. over protective jungkook <3. cute convo between oc and her husband. violence. mentions of blood and murder. SO MUCH FUCKING TENSION. smut. two sex scenes !! dry humping. oral (male!receiving). unprotected sex (this universe takes place thousands of years ago and condoms didnt exist yet give me a break). bath sex. they almost get caught OOP. cheating (but both parties are consenting and they both openly do it to each other but they dont love each other romantically so its okay i guess) ???? jungkook literally worships her oh im sick i need him.

seven's notes. this fic ended up being much longer than i anticipated but oh my gosh i literally could NOT STOP WRITING !!! this is the longest fic ive ever written hello. this is inspired by alicent and coles relationship in season 2. sorry i hate them but this trope ??? OUUU TOO GOOD. so you know i got inspired. anyways, i love this one so much, so please let me know your thoughts <3. as always, keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

listening to. blue jeans by lana del rey / middle of the night by elley duhé / flawless by the neighbourhood

part of the based off film series. this one shot is based off house of the dragon.

You had always hated the idea of marrying someone you didn’t love, but you knew that marriage was not a choice — it was an obligation woven into the fabric of your destiny. Though reluctance filled you at first, you gradually came to terms with your duty, accepting the role thrust upon you with a measure of peace.

House Emberwyn ruled the Seven Kingdoms, making them the most powerful house of all. Your father had forged a deep bond with King Aelyx, the two men connected by the shared grief of losing their wives. Beyond their friendship, your father was adamant that uniting your houses through marriage was crucial. He envisioned a future where the intertwining of two powerful, wealthy legacies would forge an unbreakable realm.

Atticus, the son of King Aelyx, was only a year older than you — making him a suitable match. Like you, he was reluctant to marry, but he, too, understood the importance of duty. He wanted nothing more than to make his father proud, even if it meant sacrificing personal desire.

As the sole heirs of your respective houses, the pressure to produce children was immediate. The act of intimacy with Atticus was never one of passion or love; it was merely another duty. The first time was uncomfortable, almost unbearable, but over time, you learned to tolerate it. This was your life now, dictated by duty rather than desire.

Since your marriage, you have been blessed with three children. Ares, your eldest and only son, was conceived during your bedding ceremony. Now a boy of one and ten, he is wise beyond his years, his sharp mind driven by a deep love for books and knowledge. Celeste, your first daughter, is nine years old — a whirlwind of wild, unrestrained energy that seems impossible to contain. Already, she’s been eagerly awaiting the day she can take to the skies on dragonback, her spirit far older than her years. Then there is Luna, your youngest and newest addition to the family, a radiant little soul who brings warmth and light into every corner of your life. She is the calm of the storm, a small but powerful source of joy that never fails to lift your spirits, no matter how heavy the burdens of the day.

Atticus is a good father, never neglecting his children. He is present in their lives, providing for them with steadfast love and care. As a husband, he is kind and dutiful. Yet, despite all his virtues, he is not the love of your life.

The two of you had come to an agreement early in your marriage: you were free to seek pleasure where you wished, as long as heirs were made with each other. It was a compromise, one that allowed you both to navigate the confines of your duty while maintaining some semblance of personal freedom.

Tragedy struck shortly after Celeste’s birth when King Aelyx succumbed to an unknown illness. The crown passed to Atticus, and with it came the immense burden of ruling the Seven Kingdoms.

With Atticus as king, you became Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Yet, unlike your husband, you did not feel the same pressure. Your days were mostly spent within the confines of your chambers, where the laughter and antics of your children filled your life with light and purpose. Despite never having known your own mother — she had died giving birth to you — you felt as though motherhood had always been your calling.

While you wouldn’t trade your life for anything in the world, motherhood came with its challenges. Ares and Celeste were at the age where they bickered endlessly over the smallest of things — whether it was toys, attention, or simply to see who could get on your nerves first. Their constant squabbles were a source of frustration, and yet you knew it was a phase they would eventually outgrow. Luna, on the other hand, still so small and newly born, could not seem to stop crying. Her wails often filled the castle, and while the maids were always close by, ready to assist, you never allowed them to. You wanted your daughter to find comfort in your arms, not anyone else’s.

There were days when calming her down felt like a losing battle, the hours stretching into what felt like an eternity. But when you finally succeeded, when her cries quieted and her tiny form melted into sleep, it filled you with a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory in a life full of larger, weightier battles.

Fortunately, today was one of the easier days. Luna wasn’t feeling particularly fussy, and after a few gentle rocks and soft pats on her back, she fell asleep in your arms without much protest. Relief washed over you as you gazed down at her peaceful face, her tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The soft warmth of her against you, the quiet of the room, made you feel like, for a moment, everything was right.

“Your Grace?”

A voice interrupted your quiet reverie, but you didn’t turn. Your eyes remained fixed on Luna, unwilling to break the fragile serenity of the moment. You hummed in response, acknowledging the speaker but unable to tear your gaze from your sleeping daughter.

“Your presence is wanted, though not required, Your Grace.”

The words draw you from your thoughts, and with a soft sigh, you finally turn to face the speaker. It’s the Lord Commander, standing tall and imposing, his armor catching the dim light filtering through the windows.

“What for?” you ask, your voice calm but laced with curiosity.

“The Kingsguard posting,” he replies, his tone formal, as always. “It’s been suggested that you select who will guard the Red Keep.”

You consider his words, your gaze drifting back to Luna, still fast asleep in your arms. The thought of placing your trust in someone else, of relying on others to protect what matters most, brings a weight to your chest. As a mother, your first instinct is always to shield your children. You would want nothing more than for them to roam the castle freely, knowing they were surrounded by those you trusted — those you handpicked.

“I suppose,” you murmur.

After carefully setting Luna in her crib, you linger for a moment, brushing a tender hand over her soft cheek. Ensuring the maids were nearby to watch over her, you quietly slip from the nursery and follow the Lord Commander through the castle's stone corridors. Your thoughts remain on Luna for a heartbeat longer before shifting to the matter at hand — choosing the knights who would guard your family, your children.

You arrive at the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where a line of knights stands at attention, their armor gleaming in the afternoon sun. The air is crisp, the tension palpable as each knight awaits his turn to be presented.

The Lord Commander steps forward, his voice ringing with authority. "Step forward, Ser Kim Namjoon."

The knight moves with a quiet confidence, offering you a small, almost shy smile. Dimples crease his cheeks, and despite the serious nature of the proceedings, you find yourself smiling back, charmed by the warmth in his expression.

"Ser Namjoon has proved strong and steady in both the tourney lists and in service beyond," the Lord Commander begins. "While traveling through the Kingswood on the way to King’s Landing, Ser Namjoon recently brought a would-be poacher to justice."

You listen carefully, considering the man before you. His loyalty and steadiness are clear, and his recent actions speak of a knight who serves with honor. Still, your mind drifts to a darker, more urgent thought — combat. The Red Keep, and more importantly, your children, needed knights who were not only honorable but battle hardened. In these uncertain times, loyalty alone would not be enough.

"Ser Namjoon," you say, your voice polite yet measured. "We thank you for your loyal service to the Crown."

He bows deeply before stepping back into line, and you offer him a nod in return, though your thoughts continue to circle around the same question — how many of these knights had seen true combat?

The next knight steps forward, and your gaze narrows as you take him in.

"Ser Kim Seokjin," the Lord Commander announces.

This knight is taller, leaner than Namjoon. He holds himself with a quiet grace, his expression serious, but there's a spark of something beneath the surface — determination perhaps, or ambition.

"Winner of the melee at Cider Hall," the Lord Commander continues. "He was the last mounted of three and twenty knights. Ser Seokjin was knighted at eight and ten."

You raise an eyebrow, impressed by his accomplishments. Yet, your thoughts linger on something more pressing, more crucial to the protection of your family.

"Do any of these knights have combat experience?" you ask, your tone sharper now. "Beyond capturing poachers and winning tourneys?"

The Lord Commander nods solemnly, signaling the next candidate.

“Ser Jeon Jungkook.”

As the name is called, a young knight steps forward, noticeably younger than the others who had come before him. Yet, despite his youth, he carries himself with an air of quiet confidence, his steps measured and purposeful. Strands of raven hair fall loosely across his forehead, framing a face that, while youthful, is sharp with focus. His dark eyes meet yours with a steady gaze, neither too bold nor deferent — he stands unshaken by the weight of the moment.

He looks about your age, perhaps even younger, and though he lacks the grizzled scars of a seasoned warrior, something about him immediately draws your attention. There's a natural grace in the way he moves, his armor fitting him perfectly as if he was born to wear it. He’s quite handsome, a fact you can’t help but notice as he stands before you, the light of the setting sun casting a faint glow over his features.

"Tell me, Ser Jungkook," you say, breaking the silence, "have you seen real combat?"

He doesn’t falter, his voice steady as he speaks. "I have, Your Grace. I fought for a year as a foot soldier against the Dornish incursions. I was knighted after we razed two of the watchtowers along the Boneway.”

There is no hesitation in his tone, no embellishment. The quiet intensity of his words, the weight of lived experience behind them, strikes you deeply. His demeanor isn't that of a man seeking glory but of one who has already faced the fire and come out stronger for it. In that moment, your decision feels clear.

“It’s settled.” Your lips curve into a smile, one of certainty and satisfaction. “I choose Ser Jungkook.”

The Lord Commander stiffens slightly, his jaw tensing as though weighing whether to speak. Before you can take a step back toward your chambers, his voice interrupts, filled with respectful hesitation. "Perhaps we shouldn’t be too hasty, Your Grace. There is no doubt Ser Jungkook is a fine warrior, but Ser Namjoon and Ser Seokjin are from houses that are important allies of the Crown."

You turn slowly, your expression cool but firm. The politicking of the court — alliances, the endless exchange of favors and titles — was something you understood all too well. Yet, this was not a matter of alliances. This was the safety of your family, the future of your children. And no amount of courtly maneuvering could change that.

“Those men are tourney knights,” you say, your voice laced with a sharp edge. “My children should be defended by a man who’s known real combat. Should they not?”

The Lord Commander pauses, his gaze flickering between the knights and your unwavering stance. He gives a short bow, conceding. “Of course, Your Grace.”

You nod once, satisfied. “Very well, then,” you say, a smile returning to your face, though this time with a sense of finality. “I expect you to plan Ser Jungkook’s investiture.”

There’s a flicker of something in the Lord Commander’s eyes — perhaps begrudging respect or recognition of your authority in this matter. He bows once more before stepping aside. “As you wish, Your Grace. I will see to it.”

As the days passed, it became clear that your decision to appoint Ser Jungkook was more than justified.

Jungkook proved himself an unwavering presence in the lives of your children. He guarded Ares and Celeste like a loyal hound, always at their side, his dark eyes constantly scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger. Wherever they went — whether it was the training yard where Ares spent hours practicing swordplay or the garden where Celeste attempted to name every flower — Jungkook followed, his sight never leaving them.

In the corridors of the Red Keep, you would often catch glimpses of him, stationed at the door to whatever chamber Ares and Celeste had wandered into, standing with that same quiet intensity that first caught your attention. He never intruded upon their activities, never interfered with their games, but his presence was felt all the same. He was a silent sentinel, ensuring that no one entered or exited a room without his knowledge.

Even the servants and court members began to take note, offering respectful nods as they passed him. There was a certain respect that began to build around Jungkook, not just as a knight, but as a protector of the royal family — of your family.

Before Ser Jungkook’s arrival, the Red Keep had always felt secure. Its towering walls and seasoned guards provided a fortress of safety, a place where danger rarely crossed your mind. Yet, somehow, with Jungkook’s arrival, there was a new, tangible sense of protection. His presence, quiet yet vigilant, added an extra layer of assurance, as if the very air had shifted, growing thicker with safety, steadier with his watchful eye. He didn’t need to speak or make grand gestures; just knowing he was there, standing mere feet away from you, made the castle feel more fortified than it ever had before.

In many ways, he made you feel like that too — protected, even in the smallest, unspoken ways.

The Small Council was always the most grueling part of your day. Despite your title as Queen, you found yourself constantly sidelined, your voice often drowned out by the men who dominated the discussions. You had grown accustomed to their subtle condescension — the way they’d nod and pretend to listen, only to carry on as if your words had never been spoken. You’d learned to expect it, but the sting of dismissal never faded entirely.

And today was no different.

As you took your seat, Jungkook stood nearby, ever the silent sentinel. He’d grown adept at reading you, his dark eyes keenly observing the smallest shift in your demeanor. He noticed how, at first, you entered the room with a composed grace, ready to engage in the matters at hand. But as the meeting dragged on, frustration began to creep in, visible in the slight tightening of your jaw each time a man at the table spoke over you or dismissed your suggestions with a polite but infuriating nod.

Jungkook’s eyes followed the subtle changes — the way your posture stiffened, the soft sigh you tried to suppress, and then, finally, the way boredom started to settle in as you reached for the small stone ball on the table, rolling it between your fingers absentmindedly. He knew you were doing your best to remain patient, but the disrespect weighed heavily in the room.

His hand instinctively twitched at his side, a protective instinct rising within him as he stood there watching. He was ready to intervene if the moment called for it, though he knew better than to step in unless absolutely necessary. Still, his silent support was palpable, a reassuring presence amidst the clamor of men who failed to see the strength in the woman before them.

“Perhaps we should discuss Driftmark, Your Grace,” the Maester began, his voice too casual for the gravity of the subject. He directed his attention toward your husband, but the mention of Driftmark instantly drew you in, pulling you from your growing boredom. You straightened in your seat, the defensiveness in your posture clear.

“What of it?” Your voice came out sharper than you intended, the raw emotion behind it hard to suppress. Driftmark wasn’t just a topic for idle conversation — it was family. Personal. The loss of the Lord of the Tides, your cousin’s husband, had been a blow that still lingered, and the aftermath of it weighed heavily on your heart.

He had been more than just family; he had adored your children as if they were his own, even naming your daughter, Celeste, as his heir. It was an honor, though one with its own set of complications. With Ares set to inherit the Iron Throne, Celeste was to inherit Driftmark. Your cousin, devastated by the loss of her husband and without heirs of her own, was to hold the seat in her stead until Celeste came of age.

The Maester’s eyes flickered between you and your husband, clearly aware of the tension in the room but too entrenched in his own position to approach the subject delicately. He cleared his throat, then spoke with a tone that bordered on patronizing. “It’s... a delicate matter, Your Grace. There are those who believe the succession should be reconsidered, given your daughter’s age. Furthermore, some question the wisdom of naming a girl as heir to such a powerful seat.”

Your stomach tightened, fury simmering beneath the surface. A girl. As if Celeste’s age or gender diminished her worth, her potential. You could feel the disdain, not just for your daughter, but for the very idea of a woman wielding such power.

You held the Maester’s gaze, your voice sharp with barely concealed fury. “And do you agree with them?”

The chamber seemed to freeze in that moment, the weight of your words pressing down on everyone in the room. All eyes flickered nervously between you and the Maester, the tension palpable as if even the air had thickened, making it harder to breathe. Everyone braced themselves for the confrontation that was surely coming.

The Maester, sensing the chance to finally reveal his true thoughts, straightened in his seat, his chest puffing out as arrogance replaced caution. He no longer glanced toward your husband for approval; instead, his focus was solely on you, his eyes glinting with condescension.

“A woman on the Driftwood Throne, Your Grace?” he repeated, his voice dripping with condescension. “Forgive my candor, but Driftmark is not some soft and delicate estate. It is a seat of warriors, sailors, men of the sea and battle. Its history is steeped in strength and tradition. To put a mere girl — no matter her bloodline — on that chair is folly, plain and simple. A woman’s place is in the home, tending to hearth and children, not commanding fleets or sitting in council chambers. The late Lord has a brother who would make a fine new Lord, more befitting the legacy.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your hands tightening into fists. “His brother has no desire for rule!” you shot back, your temper dangerously close to boiling over. “Celeste is his rightful heir. It was his wish, and it will not be questioned!”

The Maester, unfazed, continues. “Your Grace… with all due respect, your daughter is but a child. A girl of her age should be concerned with dolls and dresses, not the governance of a seat as vital as Driftmark. There are many in the realm who would argue that Driftmark deserves a stronger hand. A male heir, one capable of steering the course of the future, as tradition demands. Perhaps it is time to reconsider your decision, before it’s too late. Before the realm begins to question not only Driftmark’s future, but the Queen’s judgment as well.”

The insult hung in the air like a storm cloud, casting a heavy, suffocating tension over the room. The audacity — the sheer gall of the Maester to question not only your daughter’s right but your authority as Queen. Fury simmered beneath your composed exterior, your hand twitching as though you might lash out.

But before you could muster a response, Jungkook was already moving.

“You will watch your tongue when speaking to the Queen, Maester,” Jungkook’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, carrying the unmistakable weight of a threat. His usually calm demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more menacing. “Or it shall be taken from you.”

The room seemed to shrink around the Maester, all eyes now on him as the color drained from his face. His earlier arrogance dissolved in an instant, replaced with wide-eyed panic. The man who had dared to question your daughter’s birthright now looked as though he might faint from fear.

“I- I meant no offense, Ser Jungkook,” the Maester stammered, his words tumbling over themselves in a desperate attempt to backpedal. His gaze flickered nervously from you to Jungkook, searching for some kind of escape.

“You did,” Jungkook cut him off sharply, his tone like the edge of a blade. His gaze bore into the Maester, unyielding, unwavering. “And I will remind you once more: mind your tongue.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the threat hanging in the air like a blade, and no one doubted that Jungkook would make good on his promise if pushed further.

You turned your gaze to Jungkook, barely concealing your silent shock. The man who stood just feet away, usually so quiet and composed, always speaking only when spoken to, had stepped in to defend you — boldly, without hesitation. The gesture was unexpected, and for a moment, you were struck by the kindness and protectiveness it held.

It was not just the words he had spoken, but the intensity behind them, the clear signal that he would tolerate no disrespect toward you. In a room full of lords and courtiers who often dismissed your voice, Jungkook’s sudden defense felt like a rare and precious show of loyalty. Uncommon as it was, it left a warmth spreading in your chest, a silent but deeply felt appreciation.

Jungkook still hadn’t met your eyes, his intense gaze fixed on the Maester, the disapproval and disgust etched in his expression radiating an aura so fierce, it was almost frightening. He stood there like a wall of steel, silently daring anyone to challenge him again.

You turned your attention back to the Maester, who now squirmed under the weight of the moment. His once confident, condescending exterior had crumbled, now sitting timidly in his seat.

“Celeste is the rightful heir,” you stated, your voice even and composed, though laced with quiet authority. “She will rule Driftmark, and she will do so just as well as any man ever could. Anyone who questions that,” you paused, allowing the weight of your words to settle over the room, “will regret it.”

The Maester lowered his head, unable to meet your gaze, his earlier arrogance completely shattered. “Of course, Your Grace. Please, forgive my words.”

Jungkook didn’t move an inch, his focus still locked onto the Maester like a hawk waiting for the slightest wrong move. The room felt smaller, the tension almost suffocating as the Maester’s earlier confidence reduced to a pitiful murmur.

“See that you don’t forget that again,” you said, your tone final and cold, leaving no room for further argument.

With that, you stood up from your seat, the weight of the moment still hanging heavy in the air. Without another word, you turned on your heel and made your way out of the courtroom, every step deliberate, your posture unyielding. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as you moved, a quiet power radiating from you that demanded respect.

Jungkook, as ever, was by your side in an instant, but he kept a respectful distance, just enough to remain a silent protector, his presence still like a shield around you. His footsteps were measured, the sound of his boots echoing softly in the corridors, and yet there was an undeniable sense of security in the space between you two. No words were exchanged as you made your way to your chamber — there was no need for them. His silent solidarity was all you required.

Jungkook’s presence was reassuring, like the calm after a storm, and it made the weight of leadership — of being Queen — just a little easier to bear.

After the heat of earlier’s events, the last thing you wanted was to step foot back into the chaos of the court. The weight of the Maester’s words still lingered in the air, and you felt the need to retreat, to recharge in the only place that felt truly like yours. So, you didn’t leave your chambers for the rest of the day. You took the rare opportunity to unwind, the need for solitude outweighing any further obligations for the day.

Without a second thought, you changed into your nightgown well before the moon rose, the soft fabric a welcome contrast to the tense weight of your court attire. You moved with practiced ease, the familiar ritual of shedding the day’s responsibilities easing the knots in your shoulders.

The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow that danced across the room. You sank into the couch, the cushions molding to your body as you settled in front of the flames. With a book in hand, you opened the pages, the words inviting you into another world — a world where you could forget, if only for a moment, the burdens of being Queen.

You lost yourself in the story, the flicker of the fire keeping time with the rhythm of your reading. Outside your window, the castle was quiet, the usual noise of the corridors muted by the sanctuary of your chamber. For the first time that day, you felt a sense of peace. The world outside could wait. Here, in the comfort of your own space, you could simply be.

But just as the fire’s soft, flickering glow began to lull you deeper into peace, a knock at the door broke the fragile silence, its sound sharp and intrusive. A flicker of annoyance stirred within you — someone daring to interrupt the quiet sanctuary of your evening. But then, a familiar voice, calm and steady, followed.

“Your Grace?”

It’s him.

You took a slow breath, the irritation melting away at the sound of his voice, and called softly, “Come in, Ser Jungkook.”

The door creaked open, but Jungkook didn’t immediately step inside. He stood just beyond the threshold, his tall frame framed by the dim light spilling from the hall, casting long shadows across the stone floor. There was something endearing in the way he paused there, as though uncertain, hesitating to cross the boundary of your private space without your explicit permission. His respect for the sanctity of your chambers was something rare, a simple act that made him stand out even more.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” he said, his voice smooth and steady, like the evening air itself. “I’ve just come to alert you that the children are abed.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

What you didn’t know was that the children had been in bed for some time. Jungkook had only alerted you now because he was standing just outside your door, hesitating. He wasn’t sure if he should disturb your peace with the news. Still new to this role, he was uncertain of how to balance his duties with the delicate art of discretion.

“Thank you, Ser Jungkook,” you said, your tone warm with gratitude. “I would appreciate it if you informed me every night from now on.”

“Of course, Your Grace. Sleep well.” Jungkook gave a respectful nod, his voice as steady and sincere as ever, and he turned to leave.

“Ser Jungkook,” you called again, before he could close the door behind him.

He paused, hand resting lightly on the doorframe, his dark eyes meeting yours in the soft, flickering firelight. For a brief moment, the noise of the castle seemed to fall away, the crackling fire the only sound that filled the space between you. It was rare, these moments of true stillness, where it was just the two of you, no interruptions, no duties weighing on either of your shoulders. The warmth from the fire cast a soft glow over him, accentuating the quiet strength in his features.

For the first time, you found yourself truly looking at him — not just the protector of your children, not just the present knight, but Jungkook.

“I’ve yet to thank you for earlier — in the Small Council chamber,” you said softly, your voice quiet but earnest. “I appreciate your defense. Thank you.”

The words hung between you for a moment, carrying a weight that felt heavier than it should. It wasn’t just the defense itself, though that was significant; it was the quiet way he had stood up for you. Jungkook had always been the silent one, always just there, standing in the background. But today, he had been more. He had spoken when no one else had. His simple act of defending you meant more than you could say.

Jungkook’s posture softened at your words, though his expression remained composed, his usual stoic demeanor intact. Yet, as he held your gaze, his dark eyes seemed to linger a moment longer than usual, a subtle warmth settling in his look that wasn’t often there. It was as though the space between you both had shifted, the heavy tension of the day dissolving into something quieter, almost comforting.

“It was nothing, Your Grace. You need not thank me,” he replied, his voice low and measured, though there was something beneath it — something genuine, almost vulnerable, that made the words feel different from his usual calm, detached responses. His eyes remained steady on yours, and for a moment, the usual distance between you seemed to shrink, as though he was offering something unspoken, something more than just a knight’s duty. “You shouldn’t have to endure that kind of disrespect. It’s my duty to protect you, in all ways.”

You gave a soft nod, absorbing the weight of his words. Jungkook was a constant in your life — a silent guardian who stood watch over both your children and yourself. But hearing him speak of protecting you in such a way, so plainly and honestly, stirred something within you. It wasn’t just your children that mattered to him; it was you, as well.

“You do more than protect,” you said, your voice softer now, the weariness of the day gradually easing. “Your actions today… they meant more than you know.”

Jungkook’s lips twitched at the corners, acknowledging your words, but he didn’t respond right away. There was a brief silence between you both, the fire’s crackling embers filling the stillness as he shifted his weight, his stance still as rigid as ever, but now, a slight tension in his shoulders had eased.

“If there’s ever anything you need, Your Grace,” he said finally, his tone softer than it had been moments before, but with an underlying firmness that conveyed his commitment, “I am here.”

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around you like a quiet promise, steady and unwavering. The light of the fire caught on his features, casting soft shadows over his face, making his usually guarded expression seem less distant, more human. You felt a sense of peace settling into the space between you both, a momentary connection that felt more genuine than anything that had passed between you in the public eye.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips, finding comfort in the rare, honest exchange.

Jungkook inclined his head once more, his expression softening in a way that was unusual for him — a small, but genuine smile curling his lips, the warmth of it making him seem more approachable, more... real.

“Goodnight, Your Grace,” he said quietly, voice full of respect, but also something else — something deeper.

“Goodnight, Ser Jungkook,” you murmured in return.

With that, he turned and moved to close the door behind him, the soft click of the latch signaling his departure. But as the door clicked shut, you realized that this time, you didn’t feel the usual solitude. There was something different. Something comforting. Something exciting that made the pit of your stomach feel funny, in knowing he was standing just outside your door.

Just the barrier of wood between you two.

The next day unfolded much more peacefully than the last.

You sat on the floor of your chamber, the luxurious fabric of your gown pooling around you like a soft sea of silk. The quiet of the room was comforting as you focused on the delicate task in front of you — embroidering a blanket for Luna. Each stitch was a calming motion, your mind momentarily free of the weight of royal duties.

You hadn’t seen Jungkook yet, but his presence lingered in your thoughts, like an unspoken promise. The anticipation of his arrival stirred a quiet excitement within you, though you had no idea when he might appear.

The silence was broken by your husband's voice, cutting through the peaceful air as he entered without knocking, his tone casual. “How are you feeling today?”

You glanced up briefly, meeting his eyes before returning to your work. “Better,” you answered, the edges of your lips curving into a faint smile.

“Good,” Atticus replied, smirking as he made his way over to the table and poured himself a goblet of wine. “Do you think you’ll be attending the Small Council today?”

You hesitated, the thought of sitting through another long, tedious session filling you with a quiet reluctance. “No… if that’s alright?” you replied, your tone tentative, not wanting to seem too dismissive of his suggestion.

“Of course,” Atticus said, lifting the goblet to his lips. His eyes gleamed with a hint of mischief as he added, “But I’ll have you know, I’ve hired a new Maester.”

The words hit you like a spark, and without thinking, you put your needle down. The sudden shift in the conversation caught your attention fully. Your eyes locked onto him, eyebrows raised in surprise. The idea of a new Maester was unexpected — and it immediately piqued your curiosity.

"Are you upset about that?" you asked, your voice soft and laced with a hint of apology, eyes searching his face for any sign of how he truly felt.

Atticus paused, his gaze meeting yours with a quiet intensity. His lips curled into a knowing smirk, and he set the goblet down gently on the table. "I could never be upset with you for only standing up for yourself," he said, his voice steady, though there was an underlying heat to his words. "And someone as disrespectful as that will not continue to walk around in this castle."

His declaration was resolute, filled with a quiet determination. The confidence in his voice was not just from his position, but from a place of deep respect for you. It was as if he had taken the full weight of your frustration upon himself, and the fire behind his words showed that he would do whatever it took to ensure you never had to endure such treatment again.

You smile warmly at his words. "Thank you, Atticus."

He pauses, a small smile tugging at his lips, his fingers tapping idly on the edge of the table. "You know, as much as I’m not in love with you," he says slowly, his tone more thoughtful than usual, "I still love you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, the raw honesty in his voice bringing a quiet comfort. It wasn't the passionate declaration of romance you might have hoped for, but it was the kind of love that ran deep — steady, consistent, unshakable.

You meet his gaze, and your heart softens with understanding. "As do I," you reply, your voice gentle but genuine.

It wasn’t the kind of love that others might expect, filled with grand gestures and whispered sweet nothings. But in its own way, it was a love that had stood the test of time. It isn’t passionate, but there’s a respect and understanding between the two of you that runs deep.

“Now,” Atticus says, his voice low, teasing. “Can we talk about your knight in shining armor?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smirk that tugs at your lips. “Oh Gods,” you say, the edge of amusement clear in your voice as you go back to your needlework.

“Oh, come on,” he whines, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. “I let you pick, now you have to tell me all about him!”

You raise an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “It was you who suggested I pick?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “I thought you’d feel more content choosing someone yourself.”

“I do,” you reply with a small smile, returning to your embroidery. “It was a wise suggestion.”

“Oh, don’t change the subject now!” He motions with a dramatic hand. “What was that about yesterday?”

“He was just defending me,” you say, hoping to dismiss the conversation, though you’re well aware it won’t be that easy.

Atticus lets out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes in dramatic fashion. “No knight is that devoted to duty, my dear wife.”

His words make you pause, but you try not to let it show. Still, a smile begins to creep onto your lips, unbidden. You hadn’t really allowed yourself to think about it that way. Jungkook had always been quiet, loyal, reliable — but devoted in the way Atticus is hinting? It’s a thought that stirs something unexpected in you.

“Well, believe it or not,” you say, unable to stop the small grin now, “we’ve spoken to each other only a few times.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, leaning in slightly, clearly entertained. “Is that so? And yet, with little words between you, he’s ready to challenge a room full of lords for your honor. Fascinating.”

You roll your eyes, returning to your needlework in an attempt to focus, but your mind can’t help but drift back to Jungkook. The memory of his voice, steady and unyielding as he defended you, lingers. Maybe Atticus has a point, but admitting that would only fuel his relentless teasing.

“He’s just dutiful,” you insist, though even you can hear the uncertainty creeping into your voice.

Atticus catches it too, and his smirk widens as he takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet. “Dutiful because he loves his duty? Or because of you?”

Your cheeks flush instantly, the warmth creeping up your neck as you try to brush off the insinuation. “You’re reading into this too much,” you mumble, focusing on the embroidery in your lap, though your needlework suddenly seems less interesting.

“Am I?” Atticus drawls, stepping closer, his tone playful but probing. “Did you solely choose him because of his skills?”

You glance up at him briefly, trying to suppress a smile. “Are you implying something?”

He shrugs, the smirk on his lips widening. “Well, did you?”

“I did!” you exclaim, the words tumbling out a little too quickly, as if you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. You glance up at Atticus, catching the amused gleam in his eyes. “He’s excellent with the children, and he strikes the perfect balance around here — intimidating enough to make it clear no one should challenge him, but not so much that the children are frightened. I trust him completely, and I’ve only known him a short while.”

Atticus hums, swirling the wine in his goblet with deliberate slowness before taking a sip, his skepticism apparent in the slight arch of his brow.

You shake your head, sighing lightly. “He’s proven his worth,” you say, trying to sound firm, though the soft smile that sneaks onto your lips betrays you. “It’s his abilities that matter.”

Atticus grins, thoroughly enjoying this exchange. “Of course, his abilities. And it’s just a coincidence that the knight you trust with our children’s safety also happens to be rather… easy on the eyes?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, though the warmth spreading through your chest betrays your amusement. “His appearance has nothing to do with why I chose him,” you insist, though your tone has lost its edge, becoming playful and light. “He’s capable, loyal, and vigilant. His looks are irrelevant.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a knowing grin. “Irrelevant, but not unnoticed?”

You shoot him a mock glare, though the smile tugging at your lips makes it hard to maintain any seriousness. “You’re impossible,” you say with a shake of your head. “I care about his skills and nothing more.”

Atticus chuckles softly, clearly entertained. “We shall see,” he teases, his voice lingering in the air as he begins to make his exit. His steps are slow, unhurried, as though he’s savoring the moment.

He walks out with a lightness in his stride, and the faint echo of his laughter trails behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts — and the quiet, unsettling realization that maybe, just maybe, his words weren’t entirely off the mark.

Returning to the Small Council felt different this time. The atmosphere had shifted. The men were more considerate, actually taking your opinions into account — a stark contrast to their usual dismissiveness. It seemed Atticus’ harsh punishment of the last Maester had sent a clear message: disrespect would no longer be tolerated. They were treading carefully now, not wanting to find themselves in a similar predicament.

You exhaled a long breath as you walked into your chamber, ready to unwind after the tense day. Removing your jewelry, you placed each piece delicately on the table, the soft clink of metal filling the otherwise quiet room. You went to bend down to slip off your shoes, eager for the relief of the cool floor beneath your feet.

But before you could, a sharp point suddenly pressed against your neck.

You froze.

Panic surged through you as the cold blade pressed harder against your skin, the world around you narrowing to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“Don’t scream,” a low voice hissed in your ear, breath hot against your skin, “or you will die.”

Your breath hitched, the threat sinking in, terror flooding your veins. Tears welled in your eyes as helplessness gripped you. You had never felt so vulnerable, so utterly at the mercy of another.

The man spun you around with a jerk, and your gaze landed on another figure lurking in the shadows — both were dressed in the rough, dirt stained garb of rat catchers, but their eyes gleamed with intent far darker than pest control.

“We were paid to kill the little girl,” the man growled, his eyes boring into yours with malicious purpose. “The one who is set to inherit Driftmark. Where is she?”

Your heart stopped. They wanted Celeste. Your daughter.

Desperation clawed at your insides, but you forced yourself to remain calm, though your voice trembled as you spoke. “I have many things in here of great value,” you said, your mind racing to stall, to buy any time you could. “You can take whatever you want. Jewelry, gold…”

The man sneered, pressing the blade just a fraction closer, enough to make your skin prickle with fear. “We’re not here for trinkets,” he spat. “We’re here for the girl.”

The suffocating pressure eased as the man shoved you away, though he kept his dagger trained on you, its sharp point a constant threat.

“Lead us to her,” he snarled, “and you will live.”

Your pulse quickened, panic rising. But amid the terror, you clung to one thought: Jungkook was just outside, standing guard by the children’s room. He would protect Celeste.

Heart pounding, you forced your legs to move, stepping cautiously toward the door of your chamber. The rat catchers followed closely, one of them pressing the dagger against your back, a constant reminder of the danger lurking just inches away.

By the time you reached the door, your eyes caught a glimpse of movement. Jungkook — his back against the wood, waiting, ready. His gaze met yours, and in that brief moment, you felt a surge of relief, but it was fleeting.

Before you could react, Jungkook sprang into action. In a heartbeat, he grabbed your arm and yanked you behind him, shielding you with his body. You stumbled backward, watching in awe as he unsheathed his sword with deadly precision.

Jungkook wasted no time. His blade sank deep into the stomach of the first rat catcher, a sickening thud echoing in the hallway. The man gasped, blood spurting from the wound, and crumpled to the floor.

The second assailant, wild with desperation, swung his dagger wildly at Jungkook. But Jungkook moved with lethal grace, dodging each strike effortlessly. His movements were swift, controlled, each step calculated. In one fluid motion, he caught the man's wrist mid swing, twisting it with a force that made the man cry out in pain. Jungkook’s grip tightened, and with a brutal efficiency, he forced the attacker to plunge the dagger into his own abdomen.

The man’s eyes widened in shock, the weapon lodged deep within him, his strength faltering. Jungkook released him, and the second rat catcher staggered before collapsing to the ground beside his companion, both of them now lying in pools of their own blood.

In shock, you stood frozen, tears welling in your eyes as the reality of the moment crashed over you. Only a minute ago, you had feared for your life, for your family’s lives. And now, Jungkook had effortlessly put an end to the rat catchers, his blade on the ground still stained with their blood. It all felt too surreal, too close.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Jungkook rushed to you, his expression softening with concern. He cupped your face gently in his hands, his touch grounding you. “Your Grace? Are you hurt?” His voice was low but urgent, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury.

You shook your head, still unable to find your voice, too overwhelmed by everything. Your heart pounded, your throat tight as you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re alright now,” Jungkook whispered, his thumbs brushing tenderly across your cheeks. “Everything’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. The fear, the relief, the gratitude — they all hit you at once, overwhelming your senses. And before you knew it, your emotions spilled over. You erupted into sobs, throwing your arms around Jungkook’s neck, seeking the warmth and safety of his presence. You buried your face into his skin, your tears dripping onto his armor as you cried.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate for a second. His arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to him, his strength and warmth offering the comfort you so desperately needed. One of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your back while the other cradled your head, pressing you gently against his chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong, was the only thing keeping you grounded amidst the chaos of your emotions.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he murmured into your hair, his voice soft and calming. “You’re safe now.”

And in that moment, in his arms, you believed him.

After Atticus learned about the rat catchers’ attack, his fury was swift and intense, shaking the very walls of the Red Keep. His voice thundered from the Small Council chamber, echoing through the halls as he took command of the situation. His anger wasn’t just justified — it was terrifying. No one dared stand in his way as he set out to make sure something like this could never happen again.

You sat in your children’s room, seeking comfort in their innocent presence. Even as you tried to calm your racing heart, the distant roar of Atticus’s orders only heightened the gravity of what had nearly occurred. He wasted no time doubling the guard, placing knights at every vulnerable corner of the Keep. The added protection was meant to reassure, but for you, it only underscored the severity of the danger that had almost taken your daughter.

Atticus was relentless in his pursuit of justice. He immediately dispatched his men to find out who had hired the rat catchers. It wasn’t long before the truth came out — your former Maester hadn’t been acting alone. There were more, many more, who shared his poisonous view that Celeste, your little girl, had no right to inherit Driftmark. These men, clinging to their outdated belief that only a man should rule, had conspired to end her life before she could ever sit upon the Driftwood Throne.

Those who were caught speaking against Celeste’s claim were dealt with harshly. Atticus showed no mercy. He threw them in the dungeons without a second thought, ensuring that any who dared oppose your daughter’s future would be silenced. In this, he was steadfast, and you were grateful for his fierce protection of your family.

But even with the threat supposedly contained, the fear hadn’t left you. That night still clung to you like a dark shadow, creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. The memory of those men — of their knives and their cruel threats — replayed in your mind every night, a loop you couldn’t break free from.

Sleep was becoming harder to find. You would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the attack pressing down on your chest. Even with Jungkook stationed just outside your door, standing as your silent guardian, the sense of unease never fully faded. You trusted him more than anyone now, knowing he had saved you without hesitation, but your mind couldn’t silence the what ifs. What if something happened to him? What if the guards missed something? What if they came back?

Tonight was no different. The room was quiet, your children safe in their beds, but your thoughts raced. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind outside felt like a reminder of how close you had come to losing everything. You sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to calm the storm within.

Jungkook was right outside the door — so close, and yet, the fear lingered. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but that night had changed everything. The vulnerability, the terror, had been too real, and you couldn’t just forget it. Even though the Red Keep was locked down, even though Atticus had done everything in his power to keep you safe, you were haunted by the thought that danger still lurked just out of sight.

You couldn’t sleep. The quiet room, the stillness, your own thoughts circling endlessly — it was too much. You knew that tonight, like so many others, you’d be awake until the sun rose. So, with a sigh, you slipped out of bed, crossed the room, and quietly opened the door.

And there he was.

Jungkook stood just outside, his back to you, ever vigilant. When the door creaked softly, he turned, eyes meeting yours. In the faint light of the moon, his features were softened, yet his gaze was alert, concerned. The gleam in his eyes caught the moonlight, and for just a moment, the comfort of his presence made the world feel a little less daunting.

“Your Grace?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “I thought you’d be abed by now.”

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice quiet but laden with the weight of sleepless nights and endless worry.

“You’re safe now,” he said gently, his tone firm yet soothing, as if trying to will your mind to find peace. “Allow yourself to rest.”

You managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You said you’d be here if I ever needed anything.”

His brows furrowed slightly as he nodded, understanding your unspoken request. “I did.”

You hesitated only briefly before speaking again, your voice softer now. “Can you come in?”

Jungkook’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and he straightened. “Your Grace, I hardly think that is appropriate,” he replied, though his tone was more uncertain than firm. His sense of duty and propriety clashed visibly with his desire to help you.

“It will comfort me,” you said, the vulnerability in your voice enough to make him falter.

He hesitated, clearly torn. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword as if it could ground him in the face of your request. His loyalty to you was absolute, but the boundaries of it were something he grappled with now.

Seeing his hesitation, you added, teasing softly, “Your Queen demands you.”

That earned you a small smile, one that softened the tension in the air. Jungkook shook his head, chuckling under his breath as he conceded. “Well, who am I to deny my Queen?” he said, stepping past the threshold.

As Jungkook entered the room, his mere presence brought with it a sense of security you hadn’t even realized you’d been yearning for. His eyes never left yours, filled with a mix of concern and quiet understanding, as you led him over to the couch by the fireplace.

You settled yourself on one side, pulling a blanket over your legs as you crossed them beneath its warmth. When you glanced up, you noticed he hadn’t joined you yet. Instead, he stood a little distance away, unsure, his posture stiff as if still on duty.

“Sit,” you gestured to the empty space beside you.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to the door as if he still wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do. But your gentle command was enough to sway him. With a slight nod, he moved closer, his heavy footsteps softening as he reached the couch. Just as he was about to sit, you spoke again, your voice quiet but firm.

“Take off your armor.”

He froze, eyes wide as if caught off guard by your request. “Your Grace,” he said slowly, his tone almost a warning, a reminder of the boundary he believed needed to remain in place.

But you shook your head, your expression soft but insistent. “I don’t want you here as Ser Jungkook,” you explained, your voice carrying a vulnerability you hadn’t meant to reveal. “I want you here just as Jungkook.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, clearly torn between his sense of duty and the comfort you were asking for. But then, with a slow exhale, he began to unfasten the clasps of his armor, the metallic clinks filling the otherwise quiet room. Piece by piece, the weight of it fell away, and he set it aside, each movement careful and deliberate.

Jungkook looked at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips as he gestured to his cloak. "If you would," he said softly, his eyes warm but with a hint of playful mischief.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a bit lighter as you stood from the couch, the blanket slipping from your lap and pooling onto the floor. Your fingers brushed against his as you reached for the clasp of his cloak, feeling the cool metal as you carefully undid it. The fabric was thick and heavy, and as you pulled it off his shoulders, it seemed to take with it some of the invisible barrier he kept between you both.

The air between you felt different now, more intimate, as you set his cloak aside with the rest of his armor. When you turned back to face him, he was watching you closely, his expression softer than before, as if seeing you in a new light.

For a second, you just stood there, gazing at each other in the soft glow of the fire.

Now, without the weight of his armor, Jungkook looked more relaxed, his shoulders less tense, though there was still a quiet alertness in his posture. When you invited him to sit, he did so without hesitation this time, his expression softening as he settled next to you on the couch.

As the fire crackled gently beside you, casting a warm glow over the room, you found yourself seeing him differently. Here, sitting in your chambers, with the walls of duty momentarily lowered, Jungkook wasn’t just your knight anymore. He was a man — kind, steady, and unexpectedly gentle in his presence.

“I’ve not been able to sleep as of late,” you admitted, your voice quieter, more vulnerable than you intended. “But with you here... I feel safe.”

Jungkook’s smile was soft, a flicker of warmth that reached his eyes. “I’m happy to hear that,” he said, though his voice was still laced with the respectful formality he always carried. “Your Grace.”

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke your name, more firmly this time. “Use my name. The formalities can stay with your armor… Jungkook.”

The moment hung between you, quiet but significant. When he repeated your name, his voice was different, softer, almost intimate. It felt personal, as if you were the only thing that mattered in this room, in this moment.

Your heart fluttered hearing your name on his lips. The way he said it felt more intimate than you’d expected, and as the quiet settled around you both, you realized the walls between you were coming down even more.

“My mother died when I was four and ten,” Jungkook begins, his voice steady but carrying the weight of years of grief. “She was murdered right in front of me. I was weak, untrained... I couldn’t help her. I just stood there, frozen, and I couldn’t save her.” He pauses, his gaze distant, lost in the painful memory. “When I left the children’s chamber to go guard yours and I saw those rat catchers in there… I knew I couldn’t let you down like I did my mother. I couldn’t let that happen again.”

Your heart clenches and your brows knit in sorrow, completely torn by his story. His words hang heavy in the air, the realization of his past weighing on your chest. You feel both gratitude and guilt — glad that Jungkook trusts you enough to open up, yet heartbroken by the trauma he’s lived through.

It suddenly makes sense — why he’s always so guarded, so precise, so fiercely loyal. You understand now why he was trained in combat at such a young age, why he’s so vigilant, and why he holds himself to such a high standard. His devotion to you, his protection of your family, it all stems from a promise he made to himself long ago, a promise born from tragedy.

You reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm resting on the back of the couch, your touch warm and comforting. Jungkook’s gaze flickers to where your hand rests on his arm, and then back to your face, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“You’ve done well to uphold that promise,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. As your eyes meet his, you offer him a genuine smile, hoping it conveys the compassion you feel. “Your mother would love the man you’ve grown to be, Jungkook.”

For a brief moment, Jungkook’s eyes soften, his usual stoic expression breaking. He looks almost vulnerable, as if the weight he carries is shared, if only for a second.

“Thank you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I find myself very… protective over you.”

You tilt your head slightly, a teasing smile curling at the corners of your lips. The soft glow of the fire casts a warm light over your face, and your eyes seem to shimmer with curiosity. “Why is that?” you ask, a playful lilt to your tone as you watch him.

Jungkook hesitates for a beat, his dark eyes holding yours. He slowly pulls his arm away, the loss of contact leaving your skin colder than you expected. But before you can fully miss the warmth, you feel the feather light touch of his fingertips brushing down your arm. His touch is slow, deliberate, sending a tingling sensation across your skin, awakening something inside you.

Your breath catches as his fingers trail lower, the gentle path they take igniting a flutter in your chest. When his hand finally finds yours, his touch is warm and firm, his fingers lacing with yours like it was meant to be all along.

Jungkook looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing tenderly over the back of your hand as if testing the waters. “It’s more than duty now,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with something deeper. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability there, something raw and unguarded. “I can’t explain it fully, but… it’s like you’ve become more than just someone I’m sworn to protect.”

His gaze lingers on your face, searching for a reaction, and you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you — curiosity, anticipation, and something that feels dangerously close to longing.

Your lips part slightly, your heart hammering in your chest as the room feels smaller, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. “More than duty?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s fingers tighten just a little around yours, grounding you in the moment. His eyes soften, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yes… much more than duty,” he says, his voice tender yet filled with a quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

The fire crackles softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but all you can focus on is him — on the warmth of his hand, the depth in his gaze, and the way the space between you seems to shrink with each passing second.

With his fingers still interlaced with yours, Jungkook gently pulls you closer. The sudden shift brings you nearer to him, and you let out a soft giggle, feeling your cheeks heat up as you blush under his gaze. The warmth of his body, the way his eyes are fixed on you — it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

As the distance between you vanishes, your breath catches when you realize his gaze is locked on your lips. It’s intense, and it makes your heart race. You watch, spellbound, as he lifts his other hand slowly. His thumb brushes tenderly across your bottom lip, the pad of his finger soft against your skin. The simple, teasing touch sends a wave of warmth washing over you.

He lingers there for a moment, rubbing your lip, and then his thumb presses just a little more insistently, grazing the slit of your mouth as though silently asking for permission. The unspoken question in his eyes makes your pulse quicken, and you instinctively part your lips in response. His thumb slips inside, and you close your mouth gently around it, letting him in.

Your eyes remain on him as his thumb rests against your tongue, the sensation both intimate and electrifying. The fire crackles in the background, but the world feels muted, like it’s just you and him in this moment. Your heart pounds, and the connection between you grows stronger as you suck lightly on his digit.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes slightly uneven as he watches you, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more primal. He gently withdraws his thumb, his fingers now tracing the curve of your jaw, his touch both firm and tender. His hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

The air between you is thick with anticipation, the moment heavy with the promise of what’s to come. His forehead rests against yours, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop.

“We should stop before things go further,” Jungkook whispers, his voice low and husky, the warmth of his breath tickling your lips as he gives you the chance to pull away.

You pause, your heart racing in your chest. “We should,” you whisper back, the words lingering in the air between you both.

But neither of you move.

Instead, your gaze remains locked on his, and you can feel the heat radiating between you, the unspoken desire that lingers in the small space that still separates you.

And just like that, his lips are on yours.

The kiss is electric, his lips soft yet insistent as they press against yours. It’s slow at first, a tentative exploration, but the moment your mouths meet, everything else fades into the background.

As your lips remain locked with his, you straddle his lap, the movement seamless and natural, as if you’ve both been leading up to this moment for far too long. Your hands slide behind his head, fingers threading through the soft strands of his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss grows more heated, more desperate.

Jungkook’s hands find your waist, gripping you firmly, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. You feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips as you press yourself against him, your hips moving instinctively. A soft gasp escapes your lips when you feel the hardness beneath you, his cock straining against the fabric of his breeches, the friction making you yearn for more.

Your hips begin to buck slowly, grinding against him as you search for more contact, more release. The heat between you two is palpable now, your breath mingling with his as the kiss deepens, tongues tangling in a rhythm that matches the slow, steady roll of your hips. Every shift of your body sends a wave of pleasure through you, and you can feel his grip tighten on your waist, his breathing growing heavier.

Jungkook lets out a low groan against your lips, the sound vibrating through you, igniting something primal. You can feel the restraint he’s holding onto, the tension in his body as he struggles to keep control, but the way his hands grip your waist tells you he’s just as lost in the moment as you are.

The friction between you both builds, the heat intensifying, but the layers of fabric between you only heighten the desire, making you ache for more.

“Perhaps I should thank you,” you whisper against his lips, your breath hot and teasing as your hips roll against him, causing a deep groan to escape from Jungkook’s throat. You can feel him hardening beneath you, his body responding despite his attempts to maintain composure. “For your service…”

His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your sides just enough to make you feel how much he’s holding back. “It is only my mere duty,” he says, voice strained, each word laced with barely controlled desire.

You smile at his restraint, your lips moving to brush against the sharp line of his jaw. “You’ve done so much,” you murmur, your lips trailing lower, leaving a warm path down his neck, just beneath his jaw. His skin is soft and warm, and his pulse races beneath your touch. You hear his breath catch as you kiss along his collarbone, each word punctuated by a slow, deliberate press of your lips. “For me…” You move lower, your kisses more intentional, feeling his chest rise and fall more rapidly under your touch. “For my children…”

His hands twitch on your hips, torn between pulling you closer and letting you continue your slow, torturous descent. When you glance up at him, you see the way his dark eyes watch your every movement, clouded with need, a silent plea for more even as he struggles to keep himself grounded.

"I think you deserve a reward," you whisper, your voice sultry, teasing as your lips hover just above the edge of his tunic. Your fingers slowly, deliberately trace the hem, brushing against his heated skin as you make him wait, drawing out the anticipation.

Jungkook's head falls back, his lips parted as he releases a shaky breath, his control slipping with every passing second. His voice is a low growl, thick with longing. “You owe me nothing,”

You shake your head softly, your lips grazing the exposed skin of his chest. “I owe you everything,” you whisper back, your voice filled with sincerity and seduction, the intensity of the moment building as your hand moves lower, testing the boundaries of his restraint.

His body tenses beneath your touch, but his hands stay firm on your hips, holding you against him as if he’s afraid to let go. His eyes meet yours again, dark and full of raw emotion, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “I am yours,” he breathes, and in that moment, you know that he means every word.

With a soft smile playing on your lips, you slowly lift yourself off his lap, feeling the tension in the air as you lower yourself to the ground, kneeling between his legs. Jungkook watches you closely, his breathing uneven, eyes darkened with a mix of anticipation and restraint.

You place your hands gently on his thighs, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric of his breeches, his muscles tense beneath your touch. You start slow, allowing the moment to settle between you, your fingers tracing soft, deliberate circles along his thighs, teasing without rushing. Jungkook’s breath hitches slightly, his gaze locked on your every movement, as if entranced by the sight of you at his feet.

With a deliberate slowness, you begin to untie the laces of his breeches, savoring the quiet rustling of fabric as you pull them off completely, your fingertips brushing against his skin, making him shiver. You take your time, your eyes never leaving his, a playful gleam in your gaze as you watch his resolve crumble little by little.

His cock springs free, finally released from its tight confines. Jungkook lets out a low groan, the sudden release of tension sending a wave of relief through him. The sight of him, hard and ready, makes your breath catch, but you don’t rush. Instead, you rest your hands on his thighs again, grounding yourself in the warmth of his skin, feeling the subtle flex of his muscles beneath your palms.

You glance up at him, and the intensity in his gaze sends a thrill down your spine. His lips are parted, his breath heavy, and you can see the restraint in the way he grips the couch, knuckles white, fighting the urge to take control.

You spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock, feeling its warmth and weight resting in your palm. You start slow, allowing him to adjust to the sensation, your fingers curling around him with a firm but careful grip. As your hand begins to move, sliding up and down in deliberate, teasing strokes, Jungkook's head falls back against the couch. A low, breathy moan escapes his parted lips, his chest rising and falling more heavily with each breath, betraying his struggle to hold onto his composure under your touch. His muscles tense, eyes fluttering shut, as the pleasure builds with each movement.

His reaction fuels you, and you keep your pace slow and sensual, your hand gliding smoothly along his length. Each movement draws another sound from him — whether it’s a quiet sigh, a deep groan, or the way his breathing catches for a split second. The power you hold in this moment, the way his body responds to your touch, makes the air between you feel electric, alive with tension.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into the cushions beside him, as if holding on for control, but you can see the way his restraint is unraveling, bit by bit. His throat bobs as he swallows hard, his lips parted in silent bliss, eyes closed as he surrenders to the sensation.

With a mischievous smile, you tighten your grip just a little, adding the slightest bit more pressure as you continue to stroke him, and his moan deepens, sending a shiver through you.

You lean in, teasingly slow, letting the anticipation build. Jungkook’s breath hitches as he watches you, his chest rising and falling faster, his hands tightening into fists. The moment your tongue makes contact with the tip of his cock, his body tenses. You start with soft, delicate kitten licks, testing his sensitivity, letting him feel every light flick of your tongue as you work.

A bead of precum gathers at the tip, and you lap it up, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. Jungkook’s groan is deep, almost guttural, his head tipping back against the couch once more as you tease him with your soft licks, never giving him more than just a taste of what’s to come.

The way he reacts, the way his body trembles under your touch, only spurs you on. You take your time, savoring the control you have over him, feeling the way his thighs tense beneath your hands.

You glance up at him through your lashes, enjoying the sight of Jungkook completely lost in the moment, his lips parted, breath heavy. His reaction fuels your desire to tease him more. Your tongue moves slowly, deliberately, swirling around his sensitive tip, while your hand continues its steady rhythm, pumping him with just enough pressure to keep him on edge.

He moans again, low and deep, his hips instinctively bucking up, searching for more of that friction you’re so teasingly withholding. You hum softly, the vibrations making his cock twitch against your tongue. You take him a little deeper, wrapping your lips around the head, sucking gently as you let your hand pump the base, building the tension.

Jungkook’s hands grip the couch tightly, fighting to stay still, his body betraying him with every small thrust of his hips. You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, your tongue working against the underside of his shaft as you slide him further into your mouth. His response is immediate — his body jerks, a strangled groan escapes him, and you feel his hands twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to reach out and grab you.

You reach up and intertwine your fingers with his, and in that simple gesture, a new layer of intimacy blooms between you. His grip is firm, almost desperate, as if holding your hand is the one thing grounding him in the intensity of the moment. It's no longer just about desire; it's something deeper, more vulnerable, a connection that transcends the physical. His thumb gently brushes over your knuckles, a soft, tender contrast to the raw passion swirling around you. That small touch, full of unspoken emotion, speaks louder than words ever could, reminding you both that this is more than just a fleeting moment — it’s a quiet, shared promise.

Jungkook’s breathing becomes even more ragged as you continue to take him deeper, your lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to push him closer to the edge. You can feel his restraint, the way he’s holding back, trying to stay in control despite the pleasure coursing through him.

He groans, your name slipping from his lips in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. You hum softly in response, the vibrations causing another moan to escape his lips. The combination of his hand in yours, his soft gasps, and the warmth of his skin beneath your touch creates an almost overwhelming sense of connection.

You pull off him with a soft, wet pop, leaving his cock glistening in the firelight. Your lips curve into a teasing smile as you drag your tongue slowly along the length of his shaft, watching his reaction. Jungkook’s breath catches, his body tensing with anticipation. When you reach his base, you let your tongue dip lower, tracing a path to his balls. You take your time, licking and teasing the sensitive skin before gently sucking them into your mouth.

The reaction is immediate — his hips jerk up involuntarily, a deep moan escaping him as his head falls back against the couch. His knuckles are white as he grips the cushions, and his fingers tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you in the moment. You keep your eyes on him, enjoying the way his face contorts with pleasure, his lips parting with a shuddering breath.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice rough and strained, the sound vibrating through the air, sending a thrill through you. His chest rises and falls heavily as you continue to pump his cock in your hand, your strokes slow and deliberate, matching the rhythm of your mouth as you suck gently on his balls.

You can feel the tension building in him, his body trembling slightly under your touch. His muscles are taut, straining as he tries to hold himself back, but you know he’s close. The soft, breathless curses he murmurs between groans let you know just how much you're driving him to the edge.

Jungkook’s mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more intoxicating than the last. The feel of your mouth wrapped around his cock is overwhelming, your lips warm and slick as they glide over him, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. But what makes his pulse race even more is the sight of you — the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms — on your knees before him, your eyes dark with desire, lips wet and swollen as you take him deeper.

He can barely process it. A part of him feels like he’s lost in a dream, but the grip of your hand on his thigh, the soft, wet sounds filling the air, and the heat of your mouth around him all ground him in reality. His fingers tighten around yours, the intimacy of your entwined hands a stark contrast to the lust coursing through him.

He can’t stop thinking about how utterly beautiful you look, your regal composure gone, replaced by raw want. It’s sinful, how he can feel his cock throbbing in your mouth while your crown sits not too far away, a reminder of who you are — his Queen. And yet, here you are, on your knees, giving yourself to him so completely.

And then there’s the thought of what comes next. His cock twitches at the idea of getting you beneath him, of spreading your legs wide and burying himself in your warmth. He’s desperate to feel you around him, to watch your face twist with pleasure as he takes you, over and over again.

But even with all those thoughts swirling in his mind, one thing keeps echoing louder than the rest: the sheer power of this moment. The Queen, on her knees, sucking his cock like she’s wanted this as much as he has.

The thought sends another wave of heat through his body. He’s barely holding on, every moan, every stroke of your tongue pushing him closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, more ragged, his hips beginning to move on their own, thrusting gently into your mouth.

Before Jungkook can take control, you pull back, rising from the ground and denying him the release he craves with a teasing smile. His frustrated groan fuels your confidence as you straddle him again, your knees resting on either side of his hips. Your fingers intertwine with his, and you guide both of his hands behind his head, locking your arms around his neck. His arms cross behind him, muscles flexing as he fights to keep himself in check.

The intensity in his eyes is undeniable — burning with desire, frustration, and the raw need to touch you, yet restrained by the control you've taken. Every part of him is taut, his body tense beneath you, waiting, aching for your next move. His gaze never wavers, fixed on you with an almost desperate longing, as if the anticipation alone could undo him.

You lean in slowly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, then another on his cheek, your breath brushing his skin. His chest rises and falls against yours, the heat between you both building to a near unbearable height. Then, lips grazing his ear, you whisper in a low, sultry voice, “I want you to fuck me the way a Queen should be fucked.”

Your words send a shudder through him, his body reacting instantly to your challenge. The restraint he’s been holding onto falters, his breathing turning ragged, his grip tightening slightly on your hands. The dominance of your demand ignites something primal in him, the heat in his gaze searing into you.

"Your Grace..." Jungkook murmurs, his voice deep and breathless, the title slipping out before he can stop it, laced with a mix of reverence and raw, uncontained desire. The slip into formality catches him off guard, as if he’s forgotten to leave the titles behind along with his armor. His jaw clenches, the tension in his body palpable as his control begins to fray at the edges. His eyes burn into yours, dark and hungry, as if your very presence has set him ablaze, and now, all he can do is watch helplessly as the flames consume him.

You feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, and you smirk, rolling your hips against him, letting the friction drive him further into madness. “Are you going to make me wait, or must I command you again?”

That’s all it takes. His resolve snaps. With a low, feral growl, Jungkook releases your hands and grabs you by the thighs, lifting you effortlessly in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised giggle, heart racing at how easily he’s carrying you across the room. His strength, his commanding presence — it’s intoxicating, making your body heat with anticipation.

With a mischievous grin, he throws you down onto the bed, your body bouncing softly against the mattress. Jungkook is on you in an instant, crawling over you with a predatory grace, his body looming above yours, eyes dark and filled with intent. His hands press into the mattress on either side of you, caging you beneath him. The weight of him, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, has your breath catching in your throat.

His lips hover just inches from yours, teasing, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, “I’ll show you exactly how my Queen should be fucked.”

There’s a rough edge to his voice now, one that sends shivers down your spine. His hands trail down your sides, fingers curling around the fabric of your dress, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you beneath him, his gaze smoldering as he drinks in every inch of your bare skin.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Jungkook’s lips descend to your neck, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your throat, your collarbone, and lower still, as his hands grip your hips, holding you firmly in place. His touch is everywhere — greedy, relentless — stoking the fire that’s been building between you all night.

As his mouth moves lower, a soft moan escapes your lips, your body arching instinctively toward him, craving more. And just when you think you can’t take any more teasing, he pulls back, hovering above you once more, eyes dark with lust and promise.

Jungkook pulls off his tunic, standing before you, fully bare. His gaze is unwavering, filled with awe and raw desire as he drinks in the sight of you, every inch of your body drawing him in with quiet reverence. The heat of his stare is palpable, his lips parting slightly as his eyes travel from your breasts down to your stomach, pausing at the faint stretch marks left behind by your children.

There’s no shame in his gaze, only admiration — those marks are a testament to your strength, the life you’ve brought into the world. His hand reaches out, hesitating for just a second before brushing over your skin, tracing the delicate lines with his fingertips, as if memorizing every detail. His touch is tender, contrasting the heat in his eyes, and the reverence in his expression makes your heart swell.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice hushed but filled with sincerity, almost as though he's speaking to himself. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell. There’s no hesitation in his gaze, no second thoughts — just pure admiration.

You can’t help but smile. Despite being nearly bare beneath him, you don’t feel vulnerable. You feel cherished, worshipped even, as if this wasn’t the first time he’s seen you like this. There’s a sense of ease between you, as if his presence was always meant to be like this — intimate and without fear.

Jungkook leans in closer, his lips trailing down to your hip bone, placing a soft, lingering kiss there. The sensation is both grounding and electrifying, sending a shiver through your body. You glance down, meeting his gaze — intense and burning with desire, the kind of look that makes your heart race and your breath falter. In that moment, you can feel the fire behind his eyes, as if the world has fallen away and you're the only thing that matters.

Without breaking the connection, he lowers himself further, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The kiss is soft, reverent, but full of promise, inching closer to the place where you crave his touch the most. Your breath catches in your throat, anticipation thick in the air, when he finally leans forward and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your pussy through your soaking wet underwear.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips at the sudden contact, and instinctively, you lift your leg, gently pressing your foot against his shoulder to stop him from going further. His eyes flash with surprise, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in them as he looks up at you, waiting for your command.

“Maybe another time,” you murmur, your voice breathless but firm. “I want your cock.”

Your words hang in the air, heavy with anticipation, and Jungkook’s expression shifts, darkening with pure lust. He gives a low growl of approval, his hands gripping your thighs a little tighter as he quickly moves back up your body.

Jungkook wastes no time, his hands quick but careful as he pulls off your last piece of clothing and positions himself between your legs. His cock, already hard and slick with anticipation, brushes against your entrance, the warmth of him sending a ripple of electricity through your body. You can feel the tension in his muscles, every inch of him taut with restraint as he fights the urge to simply take you. He wants this moment to be more than just a rush of desire.

With a slow, deliberate nudge of his hips, he presses the tip of his cock against your core, the sensation both tantalizing and overwhelming. Your body reacts immediately, a soft gasp escaping your lips as he teases your entrance, the heat between you intensifying. His eyes are locked on yours, as if he’s savoring every second before fully sinking into you.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in closer, urging him to give you exactly what you’ve been yearning for. His lips crash onto yours in a heated kiss, the moment charged with raw, unspoken passion as he finally pushes into you.

“Oh Gods,” you moan, your back arching off the bed as the sudden stretch overwhelms you. Jungkook fills you completely, every inch of him pressing into you, making your breath hitch as your body adjusts to the delicious pressure. His movements slow for a moment, letting you feel every bit of him, the weight of his body grounding you as the heat between your legs spreads throughout your entire body.

Jungkook’s forehead drops to yours, his breathing ragged as he holds himself still, giving you a moment to adjust. "You feel so perfect," he groans, his voice thick with restraint. His hands roam your body, gripping your hips as though he needs to hold onto something to keep himself from losing control completely.

Your fingers slide up his back, nails grazing his skin as you tug him closer, desperate for more. "Move," you whisper, your voice trembling. "I need you."

That’s all it takes.

With a low growl, Jungkook begins to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, the sensation sending waves of pleasure rippling through you. Each movement is deliberate, deep, and measured. Your moans mix with his breathless grunts, filling the room with the sounds of your shared desire.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His pace quickens, and soon, he’s moving faster, harder, the rhythm building as the pleasure between you grows. Each thrust drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder, more desperate as you cling to him, completely lost in the moment.

Jungkook’s lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your skin between ragged breaths. “You feel so good… so fucking good,” he pants, his hips snapping against yours with growing urgency.

Your hands tangle in his hair, your body responding to his with a need that’s been simmering for so long, now finally unleashed. "Don’t stop," you moan, your voice shaky as the heat within you builds to a breaking point.

Jungkook’s thrusts become erratic, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t think I can stop," he chuckles, his words sending a shiver through you just as the first waves of release begin to crash over you.

You kiss him eagerly, teeth grazing his bottom lip before tugging at it playfully. Jungkook groans into your mouth, his hips stuttering for a moment at the sensation. The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more heated as your hands pull him closer, your nails digging into his back.

He responds in kind, his lips crashing back onto yours, the intensity of his kiss matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He bites gently on your bottom lip in return, making you gasp into his mouth, your bodies completely in sync as the pleasure mounts between you.

Your kiss is a frenzy of passion, tongues dancing, breaths mingling, as every movement pulls you closer to the edge. You tug harder at his lip, and he growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips and sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins.

Jungkook’s pace becomes relentless, his control slipping as he loses himself in you. “The day of the Kingsguard posting,” he starts breathlessly, his voice low and rough as he thrusts into you. “When you walked onto the balcony… I saw you. Thought you were so pretty. So, so pretty.”

His words, spoken between ragged breaths, send a shiver down your spine, making you arch closer into him. You gasp, your hands clutching onto his shoulders as his confession wraps around you like a heated secret. The intensity in his eyes as he speaks, as he moves inside you, is overwhelming — his vulnerability laid bare, a part of himself he’s never shared with anyone else.

“I shouldn’t have thought it,” he continues, his voice thick with desire and restraint as his pace quickens, “but I couldn’t help it. I wanted you from that moment.”

You feel your heart pound in your chest, not just from the pleasure but from his raw honesty. Your lips part, but no words come out, only breathless moans as he pushes you closer to the edge. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips brushing your ear.

“I never thought I’d have you like this,” he whispers, his voice rough with awe and hunger, each word laced with the weight of unspoken desire. “But now that I do… I’m never letting go.”

His confession wraps around you, sending a shiver through your body as his movements become more intense. The passion in his eyes, the way his body presses into yours, has you spiraling, lost in the heat between you.

You raise a trembling hand, gently brushing his hair back, your fingertips lingering against his skin. “I’m yours,” you breathe, the words slipping from your lips like a vow.

The way his eyes darken, the way his grip tightens on you, tells you he’s heard it loud and clear. And in this moment, you know he’ll hold onto that promise as tightly as he holds onto you.

He laughs out a moan at this. His pace quickens, his thrusts deeper, harder, each one sending you spiraling further. Your moans mix with his, filling the room, the sound of skin against skin only adding to the fire between you. His hands roam your body, memorizing every curve, every inch of you like it’s the last time.

“I’m so close,” he whispers, his voice strained, his body trembling as he fights for control. His forehead presses against yours again, his eyes searching yours, desperate, as if he’s asking for permission to lose himself in you.

You nod, your own release building, teetering on the edge. “Cum with me,” you breathe, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

With a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you feel Jungkook’s body tense as he releases into you, a low groan escaping his lips. The sensation triggers your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing through you as your body tightens around him. You gasp, arching against him, your hands clutching at his back as you ride out the overwhelming sensations together.

His name tumbles from your lips in a soft moan, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. For a moment, the world outside fades — it's just the two of you, tangled together, hearts pounding in sync, as you both come down from your highs.

He doesn’t move right away, his weight still pressed against you, his hands tracing slow, soothing circles on your hips as he catches his breath. You can feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, a silent reminder of the intensity you just shared.

Finally, Jungkook picks his head up from your chest, his dark eyes soft as they meet yours. He leans in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, just because he finally can. It feels different now, with no hesitation between you, just pure connection. After pulling away, he shifts to lay beside you, pulling you against his chest, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

You lie there in comfortable silence for a while, both of you catching your breaths, the calm after the storm. Jungkook’s fingers absentmindedly trace shapes on your back, lulling you into a peaceful haze. But then, he breaks the quiet with a teasing tone.

“Did I exceed your expectations, my Queen?” His voice is low and playful, a soft chuckle escaping him.

You laugh, swatting his chest lightly. “Arrogant, are we?”

But you don’t let him respond. Instead, you sit up, straddling his waist once again, your grin mischievous as you lean down to kiss him, deeper this time, your lips lingering against his.

“Might need to go again to give you a wholehearted answer,” you say with a smirk, looking down at the man who looks far too comfortable in your bed — a man who, by all means, shouldn’t be here.

His eyes widen for a moment before a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face, matching your energy. He chuckles, his hands gripping your waist firmly, his desire evident.

Jungkook knew that once the children were tucked safely into bed, these sneaky nights with you would be his favorite part of the day — full of far more excitement than he’d ever imagined.

The days stretched on like endless hourglasses, the sand moving far too slowly. Every moment of the daylight hours was consumed by anticipation, the constant pull of wanting the sun to sink and the moon to rise. It was during the night, when Jungkook would slip quietly into your chamber, that the world finally felt right.

Whether it was tangled sheets, quiet conversations, soft laughter, or simply lying in each other’s arms, those moments with him were the highlight of your days — only second to the joy of your children’s smiles, of course. But with Jungkook, time seemed to bend, each night feeling like a stolen treasure that you cherished more with every passing hour.

As much as you despised the act of walking past Jungkook during the day, pretending he wasn't your lover at night, the thrilling game of trying not to get caught was undeniably fun.

The secret, the tension of it, had its own special allure. Yet, there were moments when the near misses took a more terrifying turn.

Like that one time.

You'd been soaking in a bath, the water warm and fragrant with bubbles, the steam swirling around you like a blanket of comfort. But Jungkook, always unpredictable, had snuck in without a sound. Before you could even protest, he was stripping himself bare, sliding into the tub with you, the sudden shift in water making a small splash as he settled in.

Laughter filled the room as water overflowed, but that quickly faded into a mix of heavy breaths, wet skin, and the sound of sloppy kisses. Jungkook's hands gripped your waist as he leaned back, his head resting against the tub's edge, eyes locked on you. Your hips moved in sync, the sound of water splashing and your soft moans combining with his groans, creating a rhythm that made your heart race.

Then, just as the heat between you both reached its peak, a knock at the door shattered the moment. It was so sudden and unexpected that Jungkook's hand shot up, covering your mouth before you could release a gasp, freezing you in place. Your breath caught, heart pounding in your chest.

"Your Grace, I have your warm towels," came a muffled voice from the other side of the door. The maid sounded so oblivious, so unaware of what was actually happening just beyond the wooden barrier.

Jungkook didn't move a muscle, still as stone, his hand resting over your lips as his eyes met yours with a mischievous glint. Slowly, he lifted his hand, urging you to speak.

"J- just leave them at the door," you stammered, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heartbeat betrayed your calm facade. "I’ll grab them once I'm finished."

Jungkook stifled a chuckle, clearly finding the entire situation amusing as though it was nothing more than a joke to him. But you knew better. This was dangerous, reckless, and could cost both of you far more than just embarrassment.

"Very well, Your Grace," came the maid's voice, before the sound of her footsteps faded into the distance.

The moment she was gone, you slapped Jungkook's chest, eyes narrowed in mock fury. "We could've been caught," you said, your voice laced with both exasperation and something else — something darker, more thrilling. But the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed your feigned seriousness.

Jungkook grinned, his chest rising and falling with a quiet chuckle, as he pulled you back toward him, the playful tension still lingering in the air.

Because nights with Jungkook were always too short, he made sure to steal as many kisses and playful winks during the day as possible. The fleeting moments shared between you were like stolen treasures, hidden in plain sight.

Whenever the children finished their lessons, Jungkook was quick to position himself in front of the door to the next room they’d move into, knowing you'd soon follow, eager to check on them and hear about what they’d learned. Each time, like clockwork, you’d approach, ready to step past him, only for him to block your way with a teasing grin.

“Let me in,” you’d whine softly, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

He’d simply point to his cheek, signaling for a kiss as if he were making a royal decree. You’d roll your eyes but play along, leaning in. Just as your lips brushed his cheek, he’d turn his head swiftly, catching your kiss on his lips instead.

Your heart would race as you quickly pecked his lips once more, a mixture of thrill and worry filling you at the thought of someone walking down the corridor and catching you both. With a final flustered glance at him, you’d hurry into the chamber to join your children, trying to maintain your composure as you asked them about their day.

Meanwhile, Jungkook would stand tall outside the door, his expression serious, as though he was merely guarding the room. But the sparkle in his eyes and the lingering hint of a smile betrayed him, the playful mischief still present even as he forced himself to appear composed.

The only person who knew about your secret relationship with Jungkook was Atticus. You’d confided in him, and he had been overjoyed to learn he’d been right all along. He had always suspected something, but hearing it from you only fueled his excitement and pride at being in on the secret.

Jungkook’s devotion to you went far beyond his duty as a knight. On the surface, he played his role flawlessly, always by your side, always vigilant. To everyone else, he was simply your loyal protector, the ever watchful guard who would give his life without question. But beneath that armor, beneath the stern facade he wore in public, his loyalty ran much deeper.

He wasn’t just devoted to you as his Queen; he was devoted to you as the woman he loved, with a fierce, unshakable passion that transcended titles or obligations. Every time he stood by your side, it wasn’t just as your sworn knight but as the man who would do anything to keep you safe, even if it meant loving you in secret for the rest of his life.

In the quiet moments, when the world wasn’t watching, his love shone through. The way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the way his fingers lingered just a moment longer when they brushed against yours, or the way his lips would curl into a faint smile when he caught you stealing glances at him. It was in the way he held you at night, after everyone else had gone to bed, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke of a love so deep, words could never do it justice.

Jungkook didn’t need grand gestures or declarations of love. His devotion was in the small things, the quiet sacrifices, the way he protected you not just with his sword but with his heart. Every glance, every touch, every whispered word in the darkness was a testament to his unwavering loyalty — not to the crown, not to his duty, but to you.

And though the world might never see the depth of his devotion, you felt it every day. In the way he watched over you, in the way he shielded you from not only physical threats but from the weight of loneliness that sometimes crept in. He was your protector, not just in body but in spirit.

As the years passed, your secret love remained hidden, but his devotion never wavered. No matter the risks, no matter how many times you had to pretend in public that he was nothing more than a knight, Jungkook’s heart was yours, fully and completely.

In the end, it didn’t matter that the world would never know the truth. You knew. You saw the way he loved you, not just as a knight sworn to protect you but as a man devoted to your heart, forever bound to you in a way that went beyond duty or title.

And in that devotion, you found your peace. Because you knew, no matter what happened, Jungkook would always be by your side — not just as your protector but as your lover, your confidant, and the one person who truly understood the depths of your soul.

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days ago

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hopefully tumblr doesnt eat this up again 😭

i was wondering how the batfam would reacted to getting caught watching edits of celebrity!reader

I’m just going to put them in a relationship with Celeb! reader just to make things easier for myself.

Dick doesn’t give a fuck if he’s caught watching edits of you! You’re his spouse of course he’s going to save each and every edit there was of you because it’s be a crime if he didn’t.

He’ll even show you the ones where he thinks you’re the hottest in shamelessly with a smile. He honestly can’t get enough of the edits that his FYP is filled with them and snippets of interviews that transition to the edits as well.

Dick has no shame in being caught because why would he? You deserve to have a thousand of edits in your name and Dick has one too many edits saved in his phone, so much so that your surprised his phone still somehow has storage for the next wave of edits that he’ll be saving should he deem them worthy.

‘Babe come look at this edit of you! You look hot!’ Is the most often used when Dick is showing off an edit of yourself to you in hopes of getting your opinions on it. You don’t mind people making edits, especially didn’t mind them now when Dick would shout ‘my spouse is fucking gorgeous! God damn’ out of seemingly nowhere.

You’re not even surprised when his Lock Screen is a live wallpaper of the edit itself, dick really didn’t have any problems showing you off in any capacity at all.

Jason is either calm with being caught or he’s wanting to strangle Roy because who else is going to rat him out to you about watching edits of you other than him?

‘Chipmunk I can explain-‘ Jason would start.

‘There’s no need, I know you watch edits of me sweetheart there’s nothing to be ashamed of at all.’ You tell him as you cuddle up to his chest. ‘It’s complete fine I’m not going to shame you in watching them, I think it’s flattering that you do.’ You add and Jason couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as he held onto you, kissing your forehead.

‘It’s not my fault you’re perfect and the edits happen to capture that beauty sweetheart.’ Jason replied and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you looked at him sweetly, not knowing how much more you could possibly love this beautiful man as much as you could, especially when his cheeks flush with a red colour while he scratched his nose sheepishly.

You didn’t mind that he was watching edits and while he was glad about that he was more than certain to watch them elsewhere, more specifically away from Roy before he can rat on him…again.

Tim is terrified the moment you catch him watching edits of you, so much so that he completely forgot to pause the edit as you stare at each other, accompanied by music playing in the background.

It’s hilarious to you but embarrassing to poor Tim who believes that you’d see him as a weirdo for watching them, but all you do is laugh and kiss the side of his head before fiddling his hair affectionately. ‘Watching edits of me are you? And here I thought you couldn’t get more adorable Timmy.’ You tease as you kiss his cheek.

‘You’re not weirded out?’ He’d ask, holding his phone to his shirt, not wanting you to know that he was more or less the one making them rather than watching them. He’s literally got several usb drives worth of edit material to make, no joke.

‘Nope just flattered.’ You replied before leaving Tim be before he passes out from embarrassment. Little did you know he’s making about ten more edits as we speak, all of which have to be perfect and he’ll watch them ten times over if he must, for no specific reason at all.

Bruce is just admiring his beautiful/ handsome spouse. That is all.

Alfred would’ve most likely told you that he’s been watching edits of you when you’re away. It’s adorable and you couldn’t help but smile at how your handsome boy has an hidden file on the bar computer dedicated to your edits. (Dick and Tim found it by pure accident and dick couldn’t hope but tell you about it.)

Needless to say you won’t see him watch the edits but you’ll hear from everyone else that he watches them and that about the closest you’ll get to catching him in the act of watching edits honestly. However don’t be surprised when you see a video from Stephanie of her filing Bruce somewhere as he watched the edits of you on the big screen of the bat computer, his eyes filled with pride and awe of his pretty/ charming spouse looking so effortlessly ethereal.

While you might not have caught him in the act yourself, you still found yourself smiling at Bruce smiling up at the edits of you -and sometimes him because you’re a power couple- as a warmth encased your whole being, buts that’s more than enough for you as it can act as your own little secret.

Damian is good at keeping his little secret safe, so you seeing him watch edits of you were slim to none, and even if you did you catch him in the act you would have to have been blessed by Lady Luck herself.

He’s a little embarrassed that you caught him in the act, mainly because he thought he was better than this to let his guard down to be caught in an act like this, then he’ll become irritated at the fact that you had came into his own room just to catch him watching edits of you.

‘You’re watching edits of me.’ You said.

‘And? Did you seriously come into my room to tell me that? What happened to respecting my privacy?’ He retorts, arms cross over his chest. He didn’t care that you caught him, he’s just more or less annoyed with his privacy being violated.

‘Sorry my sweet I should’ve knocked, but you haven’t answered my question.’ You apologised with a little hug and a kiss to his forehead and Damian found himself forgiving you in an instant as he brought you back into a short lived hug, hiding his flustered face in the depths of your neck, tightening his grip on you.

‘Tim hacked my phone.’ He says in response and you just let it slide, knowing that he’ll admit to it sooner or later and not when he’s being cornered into talking. You knew he watched the edits because he’s totally infatuated with his spouse and Damian knew it too, but wouldn’t dare tell you until this moment has passed you both by.

So until then he’ll watch the edits in secret because he can’t get enough of how gorgeous you looked in them.

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lovemomhatepolice · 2 days ago

Text

slice of paradise - lando norris

navigation taglist requests

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, p in v, blowjob, handjob, unprotected sex! (protect yourself), slight!public sex, English is my second language!

type: smut with the plot, fluff also

word count: 3,5k

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER

summary: moments in paradise on Lando's 25th birthday turn out to be even hotter than the weather in Bora Bora

more content: formula 1 masterlist, lando norris masterlist, latest lando's one-shot

The gentle golden rays of the morning sun streamed in through the open balcony door, casting a soft glow across the room. The sound of waves rhythmically crashing on the shore filled the air, mingling with the smell of the salty ocean breeze. Lando slowly woke up, blinking and looking at his surroundings. They had arrived in Bora Bora last night, and aside from eating the dinner the girl had ordered especially for a pre-birthday surprise, they had no energy for more activity and simply went to sleep. The flight from England had exhausted them both enough.

Lando blinked a few more times, letting his eyes get used to the light coming into their room, through the fact that they had not closed the curtains yesterday. He could hear the soft rustling of palm trees outside and the faint chirping of distant birds greeting the new day. For a while he just lay there, savoring the sound of the ocean and the softness of the bed beneath him. His gaze fell to his side, where his girlfriend lay snuggled into him, breathing quietly and rhythmically. The boy smiled to himself and placed a kiss on her head. He didn't want to wake her up, but, as usual, that didn't work out, and just a moment later he could see her eyes gazing lazily but happily into his blue irises.

"Morning" he said, smiling from ear to ear.

She blinked sleepily before her gaze settled on Lando, a sleepy smile spreading across her lips. “Good morning,” she whispered, her voice still husky with sleep. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Thanks, love,” he replied, leaning in to brush a soft kiss on her forehead. “I couldn’t have asked for a better start to my day.”

“All the best for you,” muttered the girl, lightly moving towards him and kissing him on the lips.

Smiling, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him so that she was now sitting on his lap. Lando held her firmly but gently around the waist so she wouldn't fall, and rubbed his palms against her sides. “Thank you for this.”

“You don't have anything to thank me for yet, Lan” the girl said stroking his bare chest. “The day has just begun”

The couple spent an even longer moment in bed, laughing and talking to each other about the silliest little things. Lando couldn't stop admiring her; even with tumbled hair and sleepy eyes, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. And while Bora Bora had delighted him like no other landscape before, she took his breath away every time.

The girl leaned in to kiss him, gently stroking his jaw, which was covered with a small stubble. Lando felt that he could stay in bed all day because of this, and it would still be the best birthday of his life. However, his girlfriend had other plans and got out of bed, leaving her boyfriend groaning, not wanting her to leave him. Or at least not so soon.

“Wait,” she said, standing at the door in just her underwear shirt. “We'll start the surprises.”

Lando merely nodded and lay back on the pillows, listening to the sounds that came from the kitchen. It wasn't long until the girl came back into the room again. In her hand was a large tray with a bowl of fruit, freshly baked croissants and orange juices. Lando only smiled under his breath at this. Never before had anyone brought him breakfast in bed.

“Will you close your eyes?” the girl asked, putting the tray down on the bedside table.

“What for?” asked the boy dumbfoundedly, looking at his girlfriend.

But who would he be if he didn't do what she asked? He certainly wouldn't be himself. Therefore, just a moment later, he closed his eyes, smiling under his breath to himself.

[Y.N] didn't wait a moment and grabbed a small cake with “25” candles in her hand and walked back into their shared bedroom, singing “Happy Birthday.” Lando immediately opened his eyes and laughed out loud.

“You're spoiling me,” he teased as she climbed back into bed next to him. “But I'm not complaining.”

“Make a wish, birthday boy.”

Lando pretended to ponder the wish for a long moment, but it was not true at all. He had everything he wanted. A beautiful woman by his side who loved him beyond life. A second place in the drivers' championship, which was still a mystery as to how it would end. And he also had temporary peace of mind, which he regained after a long battle with his own psyche. So he just closed his eyes, blowing out the candles, and a smile crept onto his lips.

“What was your wish?” the girl asked, carefully removing the candles from the cake.

“I can't say, because it won't come true,” Lando laughed and scooped some cream onto his finger, tasting it. “Mm, did you bake it yourself?”

“No, not this time,” she replied, pounting slightly. “It wouldn't have survived the trip.”

“It's ok, it's good too,” he said, pulling her closer to him. He grabbed a fork in his hand, which was lying next to cake on a plate, and scooped up some on it. “Would you like to try?”

“Yup, we'll see if it tastes as good as it looks.”

Lando merely nodded and put the fork in her mouth. As the girl savored the chocolate taste of the cake, Lando dipped the fork into the cake again, but this time it landed on the girl's nose. Accidentally, of course.

“Oops?”

“Lando!” she laughed, but before she could wipe the cream off her nose, the boy did it for her.

“Oh, I think you're still dirty here,” he muttered, touching her lips with his thumb.

“Oh, really?” she asked teasingly. “And what are we going to do about it?”

“I think I have an idea,” Lando said, putting the cake back on the nightstand.

[Y.N] looked adoringly at her boyfriend. Lando looked even better than usual in this light. The golden rays of the sun that streamed into their room perfectly illuminated his year-tanned figure. There was a glow reflected in his eyes, and the girl could have sworn that for the first time in a long time she saw such peace in them. He was in just his boxers, because that was the most comfortable way for him to sleep, and his curls in a freshly cut mullet lay in every direction. But that was the most beautiful thing about that moment, that's what she wanted to give him from the beginning when she thought about what she could organize for his birthday. Tranquility and privacy, the things he missed most.

“Are you enjoying what you're looking at?” Lando laughed, correcting himself slightly in his position.

“You don't even know how much.”

The couple smiled at each other, and just a moment later Lando landed in the girl's embrace. [Y.N] hold him by the neck, hugging him tightly to herself. And Lando hovered over her, holding her around the waist, then by her hips. The laughs and kisses were endless. In the end, it could only be them…

~~ After breakfast, they wasted no time. They quickly changed into bathing suits and took the most necessary things with them to the beach, which was right next to their cottage. And most importantly, it was private and no human being could see them from a distance of a several dozen kilometers.

Lando stood up to his knees in the turquoise water, with the waves crashing against his legs. He sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of the sun on his skin and the soothing sound of the ocean. He could have sworn that he could have sat in the water all day and wouldn't have been bored at all.

“Do you like it?” asked [Y.N], suddenly joining him in the water.

“Yes, it's perfect,” he muttered, turning to face her. “Come on, let's cool off a bit.”

Lando began to swim further away from the shore, followed by [Y.N]. The water was perfect. Not only was it just the right temperature after a long sunbath, it was also a beautiful color through which you could see the bottom. As they waded deeper, the gentle waves lapped at their bodies.

“It's so beautiful here,” the girl muttered, swimming up to Lando.

[Y.N] put her hands on his shoulders, and without hesitation he pulled her to him by the waist. Lando couldn't take his eyes off her; she looked like a goddess, her smile brighter than the sun. With a grin, he suddenly scooped her up into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips.

“And what do you plan to do now that you’ve got me?”

Lando’s grip tightened around her, his fingers pressing into the curve of her back. “I think I’ll keep you here for a bit,” he murmured, his voice a mix of playful and husky as he dipped his head to kiss her shoulder, trailing soft kisses up her neck. [Y.N]'s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his slow kisses, each one leaving a trail of heat on her skin.

They stayed like that for a moment, lost in each other, until [Y.N] pulled back with a playful glint in her eyes. “Catch me if you can!” she declared before wriggling out of his grasp and splashing away.

Lando laughed, momentarily stunned, but the challenge in her voice spurred him on. “You won't get away that easily! - he called out, sprinting after her as she rushed down the beach. The sand was hot under his feet, but he barely noticed, focusing entirely on the girl in front of him.

The girl was fast, but she couldn't beat her boyfriend, not in speed. Within seconds Lando caught up with her and they both collapsed on the soft sand. Out of breath and laughing, they rolled in the sand for a while, like children.

“You catch me,” she said between sighs, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with joy.

“I always have and I always will.” - He replied, leaning in to kiss her.

This time the kiss was slower, deeper, as if time had no meaning there. The girl's hands slid into his damp hair, gently tugging at the ends as she arched her back, pressing their bodies closer together.

Lando's hands roamed her body, feeling the warmth of her sun-moistened skin under his fingertips. He slipped one of his hands under her bathing suit and clamped his palm over her breast, teasing an already hard nipple. The girl purred into his mouth, apparently asking for more.

“You're so beautiful,” whispered Lando, his voice muffled by her greedy mouth.

She didn't want to pull away from him, finally having him all to herself. Without the nitty-gritty world of the media and the fight for the Championship. Here he was simply Lando, not Lando Norris the Mclaren driver. And while she loved every version of him, the domestic one was her favorite.

The girl let out a quiet moan as his lips descended on her neck. He kissed and nibbled at the places he knew were most sensitive to her. Her fingers tightened again on his hair as she tilted her head back, giving him better access.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice barely exceeding a whisper. “I want you…”

“Here? - He teased her. “Someone could see it.”

“It's a good thing we're alone then.” - She replied with a smile. “I booked this place for a reason.”

“Clever beast,” he laughed under his breath.

“Mhm,” she whispered, bringing their lips together again. “It's your birthday, so you'll be spoiled.”

Before Lando had time to respond the girl turned them around so that now it was the boy who was lying with his back on the sand. He laughed under his breath and propped his head up with his hands, leaning on them.

With the utmost fierceness, she touched his dick through his swim trunks, at which the boy sighed and drew her close, bringing their lips together in a clumsy kiss. [Y.N] palmed him through his shorts, sliding her hand under them. Lando was already hard, he didn't need much when she was next to him. “Already hard, all for me,” she muttered into his lips and moved away from him. She placed kisses all over his warm chest, which at that moment was terribly heated from the sun. And Lando did not take his eyes off her. Until her lips kissed his length through his shorts. Then involuntarily his head flew back, and he let out an impatient moan. [Y.N] didn't keep him in suspense for long and practically immediately took off the unnecessary clothes and momentarily moved her hand over his cock, while kissing him gently there. “I'm begging you,” he muttered, pushing his hips out slightly to meet her. "No teasing" “Wait, birthday boy, I want to give you as much pleasure as possible,” she muttered at his tip, which was already dripping with pre cum. Lando didn't have to ask for long. Her lips were immediately on his, showering him with kisses. As she teased him with her hand, she placed tender kisses on his inner thighs. But today she didn't want to tease him, not on his birthday.

She immediately returned to his length, taking him all the way into her mouth. Her lip gloss left shiny traces on him, but no one seemed to mind. Lando was a groaning mess beneath her and thanked the gods that no one can hear or saw them.

“Fuck, [Y.N]” he groaned, combing her hair gently. The girl continued sucking on his hard member, her tongue moving nimbly, testing his cum. She bobbed her head up and down, varying the speed so as to give him as much pleasure as possible. Her hands quickly found a place - one on his testicles and the other holding his hand.

She knew he was close. She could feel it when his dick began to pulsate pleasantly in her mouth as she sucked harder on it. Lando didn't give much thought to it either as he just stroked her hair, and only her name fell out of his mouth like a mantra. He wasn't ashamed of it, he knew who made him feel as good as he never had in his life, and he wanted her to know too. “Cum for me pretty boy,” she whispered, sucking him. She looked at him from under her long lashes and their gazes met. And here Lando was lost. In the blink of an eye, the girl felt his cum in her throat and mouth, which filled it completely. The girl swallowed it all and suck him for a while longer to help him come down from his orgasm. “Fuck, that was so good,” Lando muttered and pulled his girl to him, unhesitatingly connecting their lips. The kiss was hot, full of passion. Their hands roamed the other's body. Lando didn’t wait any longer and began to remove her bikini, which was then even more unnecessary than usual. He changed their position so that now he was on top of her, supporting himself with his hands on the sand next to her body. “I guess it's my turn now, huh?” he murmured into her mouth and was already about to descend, but [Y.N] stopped him. “I don't need it, it's enough for me when you're inside me,” she kissed him, nipping on his lip.

"You sure?" he asked, looking at her.

The girl only nodded, smiling encouragingly at him. They were both already out of breath and damn near overheated, but they didn't want to leave this beach for anything.

As if on cue, Lando moved his member closer to her, teasing her pussy with his tip. Their liquids mingled together, to which the boy moaned, being offered this sight. Oh, she was the whole world to him. And when they were together, the rest of the world might not have existed at all. Lando positioned himself with his dick at the entrance [Y.N] and slowly but smoothly entered her, feeling the familiar warmth around his member. They both moaned, getting used to the feeling. They hadn't made love to each other in quite a while due to lack of time, so this was even more sensual and desired. “You're perfect,” he muttered, moving his hips more and more smoothly. His movements were precise, he knew exactly what was most pleasurable for them. He knew her body like no one else. And he could swear he knew it better than his own, or at least he wanted to know it more. “Lando,” she moaned, extending her hands to him. The boy immediately fell into her embrace, changing the angle at which they were now having sex. And it was even better for them, because every time Lando hit that right spot. His hand tangled in her hair, while the other touched her clit to give her even more pleasure. [Y.N] hugged his neck with one hand, and with the other she played with her nipples, which at that moment were all hard. Their lips met in a searing kiss, every now and then separated by their moans and smiles. Lando felt that they were close, so he sped up even more, and the girl pushed her hips toward him. At that moment, they loved each other harder than ever. They were both hot from the sun, breathless, and their hair looked like the biggest tussle. Their bodies were merging together at a dizzying pace, making a bloody mess all around. But they didn't give a damn. They didn't give a damn what was going on behind their backs. In their apartment. Among the fans or other drivers. It was their time, and they would give anything to keep it that way forever. Without the slightest change.

"You're taking me so well, like always" he murmured against her lips, smiling cheeky.

Lando's words and their gazes meeting again accelerated the orgasm from which they were only seconds away. The pressure inside them grew with every second, and they just snuggled into each other, smiling like fools. Lando pressed her clit harder and with his thumb rubbed it properly as she needed. “You are so good to me,” the girl muttered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I love you so much,” Lando said, smacking her a few times on the lips. And with that, they both came. Their bodies were pierced by the jolt of orgasm, and Lando continued to move inside her, letting all the cum stay inside. And then he sank down on top of her, trying to do it as gently as possible. He kissed her sensitive breasts, which had not received enough attention from him during intercourse. And [Y.N] stroked his back, drawing slight marks. “You know I couldn't have imagined a better birthday?” Lando whispered, pulling slightly away from her chest to look into her eyes. Their gazes met again in that gaze that only they knew. And which was reserved for just the two of them. All that could be heard in the background were seagulls and waves crashing on the shore. The air was filled with the sea breeze and the smell of colorful flowers that grew somewhere nearby. “Well, maybe they would be even better if there were three of us here,” he muttered again, looking deeper into her eyes. They both knew he spoke sincerely. That's what they both wanted, too - to start a family, to relax a bit in a homey corner of their Monaco's apartment. No chasing, just them and the fruit of their love.

And what was their surprise when a month later [Y.N] discovered two lines on her pregnancy test before New Year's Eve...

Well, the wish seems to have come true?

[TO BE CONTINUED]

A/N: I guess it didn't turn out so bad, right? happy birthday to our pretty boy landhinio!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

537 notes · View notes

f1fantasys · 2 days ago

Note

Balenciaga, Nike,and 1 with lando please and thanks youuu♥︎♥︎

BIRTHDAY BOYYYYY FIC

NB - This has nothing to do with Lando's birthday, it's just the name.

Here we go! First fic from the prompt list! Sorry for the delay! This turned out a little longer than expected, and i think i may have gone off track towards the end buuuut hope you all enjoy!

Balenciaga - swallowing his cum Nike - caught by his parents #1 - rough and filthy

3.7K words

During the summer break, at least a week was always spent with Lando's parents on their yacht - it had been a given for the last 3 years you'd been dating. And you absolutely loved it; you loved them like your own so it was always something you looked forward to.

Lando has ended the European leg of the races on a high, so everyones mood was ecstatic to say the least.

His? haha

He was ecstatic, sure, but he was also fucking horny for you every second of every day you'd been on the yacht.

On day 1, Lando had woken you up with his face between your legs, pulling and sucking at your clit as his fingers slid through your slick folds before he frantically thrust them in and out of you, making you cum twice within a matter of seconds. The night ended with him banging you hard against your cabin door, hand snaked round your throat as he pounded into you relentlessly.

You'd both been at it every day since, and to say you were sore would be an understatement, but all he had to do was give you a single look, or touch, and your body was putty in his hands, begging him for more until you were both shaking in each others arms.

Today was day 4, a lazy day for everyone just lounging around and working on a good tan.

By the time dinner was finished, everyone was exhausted from being out in the sun all day, and had retreated to their rooms.

Lando and you decided to just chill out on the decks, open another bottle of wine and spend some time together.

It started off innocently, it really did, until Lando stripped down into nothing but his boxers, saying something about needling to cool down in the pool.

Your eyes shamelessly eyed his body up and down as he took the few steps to get into the water, involuntarily squeezing your thighs together as he let his arms rest on the side, showing off his taunt arm muscles and flexing his back ones.

His own eyes stayed trained on yours, knowing very well he was leading you on and would get what he wanted sooner rather than later.

But you kept your ground, trying to focus on talking about something or the other, trying to keep yourself distracted.

He could see you fidgeting, your legs bouncing up and down. Hell, he was fucking hard as rock by just watching you do practically nothing.

''Come here, y/n'' he said, a warning edge to his tone.

You gave him a look, not saying anything, until he got out of the water, shred his boxers on the walk to you, and pulled you up, before walking hand and hand back to the water.

All you could keep your eyes on was his thick girth, lose and springing up and down, hard.

''Lan-'' you started, though he cut you off by placing a finger on your lips.

The cool water was a relief to your core, but Lando quickly manhandled you to sit up on the edge, taking his place between your legs.

You wrapped your legs around his torso as he untied your bikini strings, letting the top fall off to show off your perky boobs and pink nipples that had stiffened due to the the old as well.

Lando licked his lips as he reached forward and latched his mouth onto your left nipple. Gently suckling on it and circling his tongue around it as his hand harshly tugged and pinched on your right nipple.

Your hands found his hair and pulled on his curls, breathless moans leaving your mouth as you bit down on your bottom lip, though the quietness went out the window when Lando's one hand pushed your bikini bottoms to the side and immediately plunged two fingers through your core.

''Lando, fuck!'' you hissed, jumping at his actions as you thought he was taking his sweet time with you.

He was not.

Lando kept his eyes trained on yours as he let your nipples go and spread your legs further, giving himself enough room to fit his head between you, before he devoured your cunt with his tongue, while thrusting his fingers roughly.

A series of swear words left your mouth as you leaned back and tried to give him better access, and within minutes your body was trembling, shaking violently as you came all over his mouth.

Lando made sure to swallow everything up before he helped you sit up again, pulling you down for a heated kiss that quickly had him sliding his tongue into your mouth as you moaned into him.

''Lan'' you panted, ''need-'' ''need to taste you'' you said, between kisses, sounding more desperate than you have in the past few days.

''Yeah?'' he asked, mischievous glint in his eyes when he pulled back.

''Uh huh'' you said, sliding yourself back into the water and instructing him to now sit at the edge.

He complied without fuss, because he was just as desperate to feel your lips around him.

You pumped his dick a few times, concentrating on stroking the thick vein at the side which had Lando squirming above you.

You teased him now as you pulled back completely and squeezed your one boob in your hand while the other continued to pump him, licking your lips as you saw a bead of pre cum already leaking through his slit at the top.

''Y/n, please'' he begged, and just because you were in the mood and wanted to hear him beg some more, you pulled your boobs right up to your mouth and circled your tongue around your nipple.

Lando's eyes darkened as he gawked at your actions, his dick twitching in your hands as he watched you, mouth open and in awe at the sight of you.

''Fucking hell, baby, please'' he said, already gathering your hair out of your face into a makeshift ponytail.

How could you say no to him when he asked you like that?

So you finally gave Lando what he wanted - you deep throated him straight away, gagging when hie tip brushed against the back of your throat as you bobbed your head up and down his long shaft.

You played with his balls and pumped the part of him that you couldn't fit into your mouth, tears already stinging the corners of your eyes as Lando's hold on your hair tightened, when finally he just cupped your face and held it still, fucking his dick in and out of your mouth.

''That's it, yeah, takes me to well baby, fuck'' he mumbled between breaths as you could tell he was already close with the way his cock was pulsating.

You pulled back for a second, ''cum for me Lan, let me taste you, yeah?'' you cooed before resuming your activities, and with one harsh suck later, Lando was emptying his load down the back of your throat as he let out harsh grunts and moans.

His taste was salty and warm, just the way you loved. ''So delicious Lan'' you smiled up at him, cheeks flushed and eagerly ready for more.

''Come here'' he said quickly, getting you up and pulling you out the water. Lando scooped your naked body (and his) up and rushed over to the bar.

You hissed when he placed you down on the cool counter top, body still shivering from being in the cold water.

''Gonna warm you up yeah?''

''Fuck Lando, please, need to feel you'' you said impatiently.

Lando spread your legs with his knee as his hand gave his already hard cock a few strokes, sliding his tip through your folds to gather some slick.

Eventually, he settled at your hole, pushing in with one hard thrust.

You held your breath, fingers digging into his biceps at the intrusion, while his mouth found yours and gave you a sloppy kiss.

Then he started moving, pulling out of you completely before pushing all the way in, setting a quick pace as if you were short of time, but really you just couldn't get enough of each other.

''So tight, as if i haven't fucked you enough these days'' he said, smirking at you. He knew you'd have an answer to that, so he quickly brought his hand up to your throat, giving you a few gentle squeezes as he continued to fuck in and out of you.

''Gonna come Lan'' you cooed as you felt your orgasm approaching hard and fast, and withing seconds your body was shuddering in Lando's arms, body feeling like jelly so he had to hold you up now.

''Fucking love you'' he mumbled, more to himself when he looked down to the place you were joined, your thick cum coating his cock was enough to edge him closer to his own orgasm.

You leaned forward and gave his nipples a few kitten licks, sweat dripping down his whole body. He hissed when you bit down on his left one, sending you a warning. Only your name though. ''Y/n''

Just as Lando picked up the pace even more, now chasing his high, you heard a door open, though your minds were too fucked out to even respond.

Until you heard a gasp, and Lando's mum's voice.

''Oh''

You both froze, your movements coming to a halt as you looked each other with wide eyes, Lando's dick stopping halfway on its way into your cunt. His arms snaked their way around your body to rest against your ass in an attempt to cover it.

He looked over his shoulder to see Cisca standing there with her own pair of wide eyes, mouth agape. You took this opportunity to bury your head in his chest, trying to control your breathing as his as well was going at 1000 miles per hour.

All of you too embarrassed to respond, but your mind was screaming at Cisca to walk way without saying another word.

That thought was short lived though, as suddenly the door opened and closed again and now it was Adam's voice that filled your ears.

''Cis, what are you-'' he cut himself off at the scene in front of him.

''Oh'' was all he said after.

It was all probably about 30 seconds, though it felt like 5 hours, and you gave Lando warning eyes, begging him to say something to get his parents out of here and back inside. Your body was starting to squirm at the feeling of Lando's dick softening inside of you, the moment fleeting away with each second.

Finally, he coughed, and at the same time Adam cleared his throat.

''We''ll leave you to it'' he mumbled quickly before pulling Cisca back inside behind him.

As soon as the door shut you both let out a series of swear words, your bodies finally relaxing even though you didn't know how you'd ever face his parents again.

Lando looked down and gently peeled himself out of you. He cupped your face in his hands. ''Sorry'' he said, looking shy and embarrassed at what had just happened.

'''Don't be. Serves us right for trying to fuck in a place where anyone from the family could have walked in'' you said, leaning forward to peck his nose scar.

He smiled. ''Make it up to you later?'' he asked.

''You better!'' you squealed as he helped you off the counter and threw you a towel to cover up.

Time jump

For the last few days of summer break, you and Lando had opted to spend them quietly at home before the roar of the season began again.

It was a lazy day today, Lando was streaming with Max while you were preparing dinner.

As you were waiting for the oven to be done, your mind drifted the last few weeks. It was easily the best summer break anyone could dream of - sun, sea, sand and sex, lots of sex.

You could feel yourself blushing just thinking of all the nasty you did during the holiday, and suddenly, as if you hadn't had enough, you felt your core dripping with want.

Without thinking, you switched off the oven and made a beeline for the room Lando was in, stripping and leaving a trail of clothes all the way from the kitchen.

You knew his set up, so you knew all the ways to avoid the camera, though when you opened the door and Lando looked up from his screen he had to do a literal double take, his eyes wide and mouth agape, licking his lips as you made your way into the room.

Max's voice through his headphones reminded Lando where he was and what he was doing again as he tried to get back into the stream though he was failing miserably.

''Bro what the fuck what's wrong with you?'' you heard Max ask as you crawled under the desk and sat on your knees, watching Lando through hooded eyes.

He still had his own eyes on you, one hand already snaked down into his shorts at the sight of your naked body leaning down in front of him.

''Lando!'' Max yelled.

''I, fuck'' he jolted in his seat. ''Nothing, just..nothing'' he said, trying to ignore you and get back to talking to the chat.

You giggled to yourself and gently leaned up to palm his thick girth through his shorts before pulling at the them to tell him to remove them.

He kept his eyes in the screen, not even listening to what Max was saying as he subtlety lifted himself just enough to let you slide his shorts and boxers down, springing his achingly hard dick free.

You breath couldn't help but hitch at the sight of it standing tall, red and angry, with precum already sliding down the sides.

Quickly, you pumped him a few times, your thumb swiping his tip to spread the precum. You watched how Lando held his breath, before sighing and mumbled a fuck it, before he turned his camera off, though left the mic on.

Finally he was free to look down at you, biting his lower lip and mouthing a ''dirty'' down to you as you leaned forward and have his slit a few kitten licks before letting your tongue run over the thick vein at the side.

Lando's hands found your head and roughly pulled your forward, giving you no option but to take his load into your mouth, hard and deep.

His hold on your head tightened as you watched him lean back in his chair and let out a series of silent moans.

You pumped whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth as one hand fondled with his balls, pulling and tugging at them harshly when you started gagging around Lando, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

You had spit running down your chin and dropping onto you thighs as you clenched them together, your core begging for some attention of its own.

Lando tried his best to concentrate on what ever was going on with his stream, but everytime your tongue circle his tip his mind short circuited and he had to ground himself to make sure he wouldn't moan into the mic.

You could feel his dick start to twitch uncontrollably in your mouth, knowing he was close, and within a few seconds with no warning, Lando let his cum splutter down your throat as he clenched his fists on his chair handles, biting his bottom lip agonizingly hard to keep quiet, letting out a few staggered breaths.

Your own mind forgot where you were for a second, and as soon as you got a taste of him, you moaned a little too loudly, halting your movements for a split second.

You looked up at Lando and saw him mouth ''swallow it'' to you, to which you gladly obliged because he was delicious.

Max of course, caught up to what was happening. He indirectly threw teases at Lando which luckily the chat hopefully wouldn't catch on to.

As you sucked Lando dry, you pulled back and took a few breaths.

You needed more.

Your cunt was begging you for something, anything.

You looked up at Lando again, cheeks flushed, and sent him a silent ''please'' You watched as his eyes turned shades darker.

Just one look at you like that on your knees, and he was putty in your hands.

He ended the stream with no goodbyes, no explanation, nothing.

He roughly pulled you out from under the table and carried you to the bedroom, throwing you on the bed.

''You asked for it baby'' he harshly said, hovering above you as you peeled his tshirt off.

Finally, he lowered down and attacked your lips with his own. Clashes of teeth and tongue, biting and nipping as you fought each other, spit messing your chins already.

You let your hands wander his toned body - following the outlines of his taunt muscles, eventually settling at his precious hair, pulling at it to edge him on.

Lando lowered his lips to your neck, finding your sweet spots which had you biting your own lips in anticipation of what was to come.

He hen went to your boobs, taking his sweet time tugging and suckling on your nipples, while his eyes stayed trained on yours.

Your cunt, for one, was getting impatient, clenching around air, begging for something.

''Please Lando'' you said, innocently as you could so he'd give in.

''Patience baby. Gonna ruin you tonight''

After spending a ridiculous amount of time on your boobs, Lando finally traveled further south, and thank god he didn't waste time in getting down and dirty.

He devoured your pussy that had been dripping, for him.

''So wet y/n. Wet for me, yeah?'' he asked.

You quickly nodded, wanting to boost his ego before you fucking exploded.

''All for you Lan'' you panted as he slid his tongue through your folds multiple times before starting to thrust into your hole as he held your legs apart strongly.

Your hands returned to his hair, pulling at it roughly as you very quickly felt the warmth start to build up in your stomach.

''M close'' you cooed, taking a boob into your hand and squeezing it a few times.

Lando had let his fingers find your clit, and this threw you over the edge, shaking and shuddering underneath him as you came all over his face, while you let obscene noises and moans leave your mouth, praising him for how good his fucking tongue is.

He licked up all your cum before reaching up and letting some drip straight from his mouth down into your yours - his own series of ''fucks'' leaving his mouth at the sight of you tasting yourself.

But as much as you loved when he ate you out, you loved his dick more.

So you reached down and took his thick girth into your hands, pumping it a few times before bringing it to your entrance and guiding it through you.

You gasped at the intrusion, eyes locked on Lando's as he bottomed out in you, before he started moving, thrusting out fully before slamming back into you roughly, fucking into you roughly.

''Fuck. So tight baby'' he mumbled as he leaned down to kiss you again.

''Lan please, harder. Fuck me harder, please'' you begged, needing more and more of him and your nails dug deep into the muscles of his back, surely leaving bruises.

''If i fuck you any harder I'm gonna break you'' he said breathlessly.

''Then break me'' you pressed, taking him by surprise.

He smirked, ''and this is why i fucking love you so much'' he whispered before picking up his pace even more, literally ramming his body into yours.

You shut you eyes and before you knew it your orgasm had taken over your body, cum exploding out of you as you swear you could see stars, all the while Lando's pace didn't slow one bit.

Suddenly though, he pulled out of you.

You looked down at him, confused, irritated that he'd stopped. But you mind quickly phased out as he bought his mouth to your cunt and collected as much of your cum as he could on his tongue, leaning up to engulf you in a dirty, filthy kiss. Both your cheeks and chins' were sticky and slimy but you couldn't care one bit because that was hot.

Lando manhandled your body to flip you over onto all fours, before he thrust himself through your cunt and resumed a rapid pace again, while his one hand found your throat and the other pinched your nipples.

''Lan, fuck, close. Gonna cum'' you mumbled as you felt him him you G-spot over and over and over and then your mind blanked.

You couldn't think straight. All you knew was there was liquid flying out of you left right and center, you could feel Lando's tongue, and all you ears could hear was Lando praising you for ''being the sexiest thing to grace this earth, how he's gonna make you squirt every day for the rest of your lives because fuck, there was nothing hotter than that''

Wait. What? Did he just say squirt?

Then your brain caught up, and your eyes flew open.

Lando was still ramming into you, so you looked back at him with the biggest look of embarrassment because wdym you squirted?

His whole face was wet with slick and sweat. He looked hot.

You tried to talk, but you couldn't, your body and mind a mixture of a lot of things. And with the way Lando was chasing his high now, you figured you'd let him finish before attempting to comprehend what was happening.

''I'm gonna cum y/n'' he warned. ''One day fuck a baby into this pretty cunt of your's'''he whispered, more to himself.

You clenched your walls around his throbbing dick, yet another orgasm coming over you, and within seconds he was spasmming and letting his load go deep within you, his own pornographic moans and grunts leaving his mouth.

Finally, you both fell forward, you on the bed and he on top of you, breathless and sticky, trying to calm your shaking bodies.

You could feel Lando softening inside you, and you both hissed when he slid out, your cunt extremely sensitive.

He gave you a sheepish smile before pulling you to lay on top of him.

''Please interrupt my stream more often if this is what I'll get. Squirming? Fucking sexiest shit you've ever done baby''

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smut #lando norris #f1 fic #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris smut #ln4 ln #ln4 #ln #lando #norris

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autistic-speedbump · 2 days ago

Note

You know what the lifeblood of the economy is? The GLOBAL economy? Exploitation. Capitalism cannot function without exploitation. I was just explaining this the other day, about why Trump deporting all the "illlegals" is bad news for usamerican citizens.

For starters, look at all the "American jobs" that "illegals are stealing." It's mostly pick fruits and vegetables in massive fields all day, rain or shine, hot or cold. Second, ask how much undocumented migrants get paid. I'll give you a hint: it's not even close to minimum wage.

See, our agricultural needs run on undocumented migrants doing the jobs that usamericans do not want to do for far less pay than any usamerican will accept.

Exploitation.

Now consider what will happen when our cheap and exploitation workforce suddenly disappears. If usamerican citizens were to do the work, the companies would have to go from paying just a few dollars a day to $15-20 an hour PLUS benefits.

Can the company afford this? Absolutely.

Can they legally do this? Absolutely not.

See, once a company has investors, that company has a LEGAL obligation to make more money each year than they did the last. Failing to do so is seen as defrauding investors and will be met with legal consequences.

So those 'american jobs' won't actually go to Americans because doing so will legally require higher pay with benefits, leading to higher costs, leading to lower profits, leading to legal action. The only way to keep things going is to replace one cheap and exploitation workforce with another.

And where will we get that? We'll, slavery is still constitutionally legal as punishment for a crime.

Yup, prison labor can be acquired for about the same cost as undocumented migrant labor. In fact, if you see 'Made in USA' on a product, it was most likely made with prison labor. But see, that brings us to another problem and a little closer to why things are going to go badly for usamerican citizens.

See, in order for prisons to secure federal funding, they need to stay at or above a certain capacity. Already they have an incentive to stay as full as possible, but with so many cots emptied as inmates are transferred to on-site labor quarters, we need even more convicts in order to meet labor demands and secure federal assistance.

That's right; deporting undocumented migrants will REQUIRE mass incarceration of usamerican citizens to replenish the workforce and keep the economy functioning as it is. Get ready for an influx of new laws that will disproportionately target minority and low-income citizens. At first. Then they will eventually target everyone but the wealthy until the USA is divided into just citizens and servants; the haves and the have-nots.

You got a big storm comin'.

I'm asking this genuinely, as a 19 yo with no education in economics and a pretty surface level understanding of socialism: can you explain the whole Bananas discourse in a way someone like me might understand? In my understanding it's just "This is just a product we can give up to create better worker conditions and that's fine" but apparently that's not the full picture?

alright so some pretty important background to all this is that we're all talking about the fact that bananas, grown in the global south, are available year-round at extremely low prices all around europe and the USA. it's not really about bananas per so--the banana in this discourse is a synechdoche for all the economic benefits of imperialism.

so how are cheap bananas a result of imperialism? first of all i want to tackle a common and v. silly counterargument: 'oh, these ridiculous communists think it's imperialist for produce to be shipped internationally'. nah. believing that this is the communist objection requires believing in a deeply naive view of international traide. this view goes something like 'well, if honduras has lots of bananas, and people in the usa want bananas and are willing to pay for them, surely everyone wins when the usa buys bananas!'.

there are of course two key errors here and they are both packed into 'honduras has lots of bananas'. for a start, although the bananas are grown in honduras, honduras doesn't really 'have' them, because the plantations are mostly owned by chiquita (formerly known as united fruit) dole, del monte, and other multinationals--when they're not, those multinationals will usually purchase the bananas from honduran growers and conduct the export themselves. and wouldn't you know it, it's those intervening middleman steps--export, import, and retail, where the vast majority of money is made off bananas! so in the process of a banana making its way from honduras to a 7/11, usamerican multinationals make money selling the bananas to usamerican importers who make money selling them to usamerican retailers who make money selling them to usamerican customers.

when chiquita sells a banana to be sold in walmart, a magic trick is being performed: a banana is disappearing from honduras, and yet somehow an american company is paying a second american company for it! this is economic imperialism, the usamerican multinational extracting resources from a nation while simultaneously pocketing the value of those resources.

why does the honduran government allow this? if selling bananas is such a bad deal for the nation, why do they continue to export millions of dollars of banans a year? well, obviously, there's the fact that if they didn't, they would face a coup. the united states is more than willing to intervene and cause mass death and war to protect the profits of its multinationals. but the second, more subtle thing keeping honduras bound to this ridiculously unbalanced relationship is the need for dollars. because the US dollar is the global reserve currency, and the de facto currency of international trade, exporting to the USA is a basic necessity for nations like honduras, guatemala, &c. why is the dollar the global reserve currency? because of usamerican military and economic hegemony, of course. imperialism built upon imperialism!

this is unequal exchange, the neoimperialist terms of international trade that make the 'global economy' a tool of siphoning value and resources from the global south to the imperial core. & this is the second flaw to unravel in 'honduras has a lot of bananas' -- honduras only 'has a lot of bananas' because this global economic hegemony has led to vast unsustainable monoculture banana plantations to dominate the agriculture of honduras. it's long-attested how monoculture growth is unsustainable because it destroys soil and leads to easily-wiped-out-by-infection plants.

so, bananas in the USA are cheap because:

the workers that grow them are barely paid, mistreated, prevented from unionizing, and sometimes murdered

the nations in which the bananas are grown accept brutally unfair trade and tariff terms with the USA because they desperately need a supply of US dollars and so have little position to negotiate

shipping is also much cheaper than it should be because sailors are chronically underpaid and often not paid at all or forced to pay to work (!)

bananas are cheap, in conclusion, because they're produced by underpaid and brutalized workers and then imported on extortionate and unfair terms.

so what, should we all give up bananas? no, and it's a sign of total lack of understanding of socialism as a global movement that all the pearl-clutching usamericans have latched onto the scary communists telling them to stop buying bananas. communism does not care about you as a consumer. individual consumptive choices are not a meaningful arena of political action. the socialist position is not "if there was a socialist reovlution in the usa, we would all stop eating bananas like good little boys", but rather, "if there's a socialist revolution in the countries where bananas are grown, then the availability of bananas in the usa is going to drop, and if you want to be an anti-imperialist in the imperial core you have to accept that".

(this is where the second argument i see about this, 'oh what are you catholic you want me to eat dirt like a monk?' reveals itself as a silly fucking solipsistic misunderstanding)

and again, let's note that the case of the banana can very easily be generalised out to coffee, chocolate, sugar, etc, and that it's not about individual consumptive habits, but about global economic systems. if you are donkey fucking kong and you eat 100 bananas a day i don't care and neither does anyone else. it's about trying to illustrate just one tiny mundane way in which economic imperialism makes the lives of people in the global north more convenient and simpler and so of course there is enormous pushback from people who attach moral value to this and therefore feel like the mean commies are personally calling them evil for eating a nutella or whatever which is frankly pretty tiring. Sad!

tldr: it is not imperialism when produce go on boat but it is imperialism when produce grown for dirt cheap by underpaid workers in a country with a devalued currency is then bought and exported and sold by usamerican companies creating huge amounts of economic value of which the nation in which the banana was grown, let alone the people who actually fucking grew it, don't see a cent -- and this is the engine behind the cheap, available-every-day-all-year-everywhere presence of bananas in the usa (and other places!)

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7nuh · 1 day ago

Text

WAS IT 'CASUAL' WHEN...? — TWST 1ST YEARS

Headcanons on the 'casual' things you do with him that made him wish that there was something more between you.

CW 𓂃 sfw, gn!reader, reader is implied to fit in Deuce's clothes in his part, pining

CHARAS 𓂃 Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, Epel Felmier, and Sebek Zigvolt

AN 𓂃 mostly* edited now 😎👍

ACE TRAPPOLA — you slept in the same bed?

Ramshackle isn't exactly known for having the best facilities or furniture, and that is a fact Ace has to make peace with whenever he gets kicked out by Riddle. It's always a little too chilly at night and the floors still creak beneath his feet. Even with a makeover, half of the beds are broken and that stiff couch downstairs is your next best bet at getting some semblance of sleep.

You insisted you really didn't mind sharing a bed at all and Ace took you up on your offer. In his words, "if you say so then!" Just create an invisible partition down the middle and the two of you should be fine. Sure, yeah, that'll be infinitely more comfortable than the couch, and Ace absolutely agrees. He repeats the thought to himself over and over again— this is supposedly the better alternative, isn't it?

Yeah, totally. He tries to convince himself that it's really not a big deal for him to be inches away from you at night and feel your warmth spreading through the sheets. God, you'd think he's a weirdo if you woke up and caught him staring right now, but he could always twist it into a dumb joke about your sleeping face looking like an ogre. Consequently, he would have to watch your face twist in annoyance and pretend he wasn't watching every rise and fall of your chest. He would rather lose his magic entirely than admit the ugly truth and make himself vulnerable to you.

Ace does realize he's being embarrassingly sappy and romantic, and he's disgusted at himself for these thoughts, but he can't help it. He can't change the fact your lips look so soft and your eyelashes are so pretty. This is freaking him out so much more than it should. Does this really mean nothing to you? Do really only see him as a friend? Fine, then the two of you are just friends sharing a bed then!

It's really nothing! Ace was the one who joked about it months ago, after all. But things (and his feelings) have changed and he cannot ignore that. Back then it wouldn't have been such a big deal, but now it is and he cannot calm his heart down no matter how hard he tries.

You're right there. It's not the first time he had to share a bed with someone but it's different now because it's you. He did the math and the two of you are only 10 inches apart. Ace almost reaches for you in his weakest moment until he remembers that the two of you are supposedly just two friends sharing a bed. You're doing him a favor by sheltering him for the night, that's all.

Ace retracts his hand right away at the last minute. He might have as well taken the goddamn couch (lest either of you wake up in each other's arms).

DEUCE SPADE — he lent his clothes?

You came here with next to nothing. You had exactly one change of clothes and pocket lint for change, so Deuce, being the righteous and honorable student that he is, decided to lend you some of his clothes for the meantime. It's what a good friend would do! It's a temporary arrangement that would last only until Crowley spares enough change for you to buy another set of uniforms.

But this arrangement drags on for so long even when you have a functional closet and multiple sets of better-fitting clothes. Deuce never really noticed until recently that a third of your (albeit very limited) wardrobe actually belongs to him. But whenever you tug on his sleeves for his latest sweater, he doesn't have the heart to tell you no.

When he went home during break, his mom even noticed that certain sweaters and shirts had gone missing. "I left them at the college," he tells her as to not worry her. It's technically the truth— it's back with you in the college (and you're probably wearing them right now; the mental image is enough to fluster him all of the sudden when it never did before). He has to get them back eventually since those clothes are his. He's sure you wouldn't mind? Right?

Simply asking for them back is the difficult part for Deuce. You're there in front of him wearing one of his older shirts that fit snugly around your figure and he's at a loss for words. It's worn down and outright hideous as hell but the very first thought that comes to mind is that you look good in it.

Ah, yeah. You walk around campus on non-school days wearing his clothes 1/3rd of the time and nobody else knows that those jackets and shirts and sweaters and button-ups are all his. You make even the ugliest ones look good, or maybe it's because you're the wearer and you always looked good to him? Do his eyes need to be checked...? Deuce is tortured by these thoughts while merrily go about your day. You're laughing at something stupid that Grim said and he can't hear anything else. There's a fight in the courtyard but he can't see anything else. There's a midterm tomorrow but he can't think of anything else. You're too distracting.

When you finally do remember to return a shirt or two, Deuce tells you there's really no need to return them. He insists that they're better off with you, but you laugh and remind him that you're no longer the same pathetic charity case you were at the start of the year.

The truth is, your scent still lingers on recently returned shirts. It's the closest he'll get to being skin-to-skin with you, and Deuce is supposed to ignore that but he cannot. Or maybe he's the only one making this weird for the two of you because it doesn't seem to bother you in the slightest (and he's bothered by that).

But when Deuce looks at the recently returned shirts in his hands, he hopes he has a chance. He hopes you think of him as much as he thinks of you. He hopes the odds of him not actually liking you after all make your guts churn and set butterflies in your chest at the same time. He hopes he isn't the only one yearning for used shirts, lingering scents, and ghost touches. But at the same time, you've only ever asked these kinds of favors from him... Deuce doesn't want to assume anything, but a blush creeps upon his cheeks all the same and he continues to hope for more.

JACK HOWL — you played with his ears and tail?

Beastmen weren't a thing back in your world, so seeing them regularly made you morbidly curious about their animalistic features. Jack was easily the best candidate to satisfy your intrusive thoughts because just who else could you ask about this? Leona wasn't exactly an option and Ruggie might rope you into some scheme of his. And Jack owed you a favor, after all, so this is what you decided to ask of him.

Jack's ears twitched— did he hear you correctly? His face scrunches up in confusion because you barely knew each other for you to be asking something like this. How could you ask something so personal from him? It's in your innocently eager expression that he realizes what's going on... you just didn't know. Fine, it should mean nothing to you and thus he agrees to let you pet his tail and ears for five seconds. Maximum.

It's supposed to be a one time thing but he finds him involuntarily offering up his tail whenever you look him like that. He's not even sure how it got to this point. After all, there are romantic connotations of having your tail petted by someone else and... nevermind. Ruggie and Leona have started simultaneously teasing him over it the very moment they caught wind of this peculiar arrangement. It doesn't help that Jack's tail is particularly sensitive and reactive, but he keeps a straight face no matter how much it embarrasses him.

Jack doesn't understand why you're so fascinated by his tail and ears because there are so many others just like him. However, he supposes it's not an entirely terrible feeling, though, to have your fingers absentmindedly rake across his tail and hair as the two of you study. It's relaxing, even, but he won't tell you that. Jack will never tell you that it gives him goosebumps all over and makes him shiver whenever you play with his tail. Or that he's begun wondering what it would be like to have your hands elsewhere, or for him to touch you in similar ways in return.

He doesn't understand why he craves your company but doesn't question it either. All he knows is that your hands are so soft and gentle and that he likes the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you smile in satisfaction. And when you hum a soft tune as the gap between the two of you closes, he wonders if he's the only one feeling this tension.

"Again?" Jack huffs. The pretext of this being a silly favor has been long forgotten. He should probably tell you soon that you shouldn't be doing this soon, but you just look so pleased with yourself when the two of settle down in a lesser-known corner of the library. The routine persists, the cycle continues. Hours later, the both of you have gone through multiple bags of chips, two movies on his laptop, and his tail is now comfortably curled around your abdomen as you read a book and he tends to his beloved cactus.

Again? Jack silently asks himself whenever he sees your face in a crowd. Could the two of you spend hours in a comfortable silence while the unsaid implications haunt him? He's started to ask himself— were you just playing dumb at this point or just plain stupid? Or what if you had known all along and the two of you were just dancing around it?

EPEL FELMIER — you kissed him?

Epel eventually learns to use the way others perceive him to his advantage; there's strength in appearing to be weak and striking when the iron is hot. Still, he couldn't help but wish to be seen for his talents and strength instead of his beauty at the first glance. The first assumption everyone makes of him, for god's sake, is that he's a fragile little thing from a rich family, and, quite frankly, he's sick of it.

So he's secretly delighted when none of his charms worked on you and you yank him by the ear for even attempting. A few curse words and rough shoves later, both of you are on the floor, grappling and wrestling against each other. The two of you are laughing so hard and swearing so loudly that you'll probably wake up the rest of Pomefiore at this rate, but neither of you care. It's just the two of you right now grasping at each other like your life depended on it.

It's a nice change of pace to be openly exchanging insults instead of restraining himself. He enjoys the comfortable rhythm the two of you share— from all the brawls and the bantering and the hugs and to the kisses on the cheek. Yes, kisses. They started as simple thank you's after a few favors here and there, and just one of them is enough to make a mess out of Epel for weeks. Better yet, you only seem to be showering him with more and more of your attention and he relishes in it.

Ah, things are finally working out for him! He found someone he could confide in and he's sure that there's a spark between the two of you. By the end of the year, he might have someone to bring home and brag about to his relatives—

All the momentum halts when he sees you across the hall granting the rest of your friends the same levels of affection. From all the brawls to the bantering to the hugs and the kisses, none of those were ever solely his to take delight upon. It doesn't matter that he opened up to you about all his fears and insecurities because he was never special. You were just the kind of person who got along and felt comfortable with everyone around you, but Epel hates that he has no one to blame but himself. He willingly walked your warmth but it was never his to take.

It finally dawns upon him that you have never seen him in a romantic light and that was why you were so comfortable around him. In retrospect, the bond you two shared was more sibling-like than anything— and believe him when he says he's incredibly grateful that the two of you were that close —but it doesn't make it hurt any less to know that your affections never carried any romantic intentions after he had pinned for you for so long.

Even when he takes a step back, you're cruel in a roundabout way by continuing to be so kind and loving towards him. How was Epel supposed to make sense of your relationship after realizing he misunderstood you...?

And he also hates to admit this, but his self-confidence takes a huge blow from this. Epel genuinely thought he could be loved for who he was based on the time you spent together. It gnaws at him and eats him alive to finally know the truth, and sometimes he wishes he never found out at all.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT — you wrote him love letters?

So, Sebek asked (demanded) to be penpals...

It's all because Lilia told him it would be a good exercise of diplomacy, he insisted. As the young master's bodyguard, he will have to be as courteous as possible even in unpleasant company. He also rationalized, admittedly partly because of you, that forging bonds with magicless humans may be a worthwhile endeavor after all! It's all rather suspicious (and you suspect his real intentions have something to do with your friendship with Malleus), but Sebek has never been one to lie about his intentions. If anything, the popular opinion was that he's a little too honest and should learn a thing or two about holding back.

There's something very unconventional in sending handwritten letters in this day and age of modern technology, but also something very romantic and fantastical— much like the many fictional knights he had read about. It helps a lot that he's not directly confronted by the fact you are very much a magicless human who shouldn't be in NRC whenever he spills out his heart's contents unto multiple pages. It was a way for him to release his frustrations, celebrate his achievements, and talk about the dull, little things thats happened in his day-to-day life to someone who listened.

And listen you did. Turns out, when you're not subjected to his 1000 decibel shouting, Sebek is a rather earnest guy who worked hard and acknowledged others who also worked equally as hard no matter their disposition. To say the least, you understand why Lilia found it so entertaining to tease him.

It completely flies over his head that you had been flirting with him for months through these letters. Your everyday interactions with each other had been completely normal, so how was he supposed to notice?! It takes multiple rereads and many late-night discussions with the other Diasomnia dormers to decode and understand all the double entendres and hidden 'i love you's' in each and every letter. It was so needlessly difficult, but Lilia laughs in his face and pats him at the back for a job well-done.

"There's no way," he thinks to himself late at night and finds himself doubting Lilia's claims for once. But when Sebek steals a glance in your direction and you smile back in return, he's never felt weaker in his knees. You're absolutely and undeniably magic-less... but somehow you had casted a spell that made his chest tighten and shut him up. He hadn't even realized how much time he was spending with you and thinking about you when he wasn't.

Except nothing has changed in-person. You're acting like you hadn't meticulously hidden your affections for him in those letters, and he was starting to seriously doubt all of it. Yeah, were you event smart enough to pull off all that? As some magic-less human?

Actually... Sebek realizes that you are capable of outsmarting him after getting to know you much better through those letters. He's never been one to deny where credit it was due. Now, Sebek's just deeply ashamed that he failed to accurately assess your character before making judgements based on superficial traits. He knows better than anyone that you're witty, charming, brave, kind, beautiful, ambitious—

Oh no.

Sebek simply explodes on the spot once he realizes that he had been oblivious to his own feelings for you too. He had thoroughly examined every aspect of this conundrum except from within. Quite embarrassing from an esteemed knight of the prince of nocturnal fae to be this slow, really.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #ace trapola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #i hope my favorite isn't too obvious el oh el

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ginnsbaker · 2 days ago

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All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado… More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Honey! I shrunk the kids!”

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that?

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles.

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?” You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse.

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town.

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you.

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her.

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms.

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need.

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it.

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #oneshots #fic request #wandavision #monica rambeau #darcy lewis #jimmy woo #All Of Your Pieces #AOYP

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eddiethebrave · 3 days ago

Text

secret admirer part twenty-five

1043 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty-four

That morning…

Eddie it really sucks that you’re the only you other than the fact that two eddies would be amazing on it’s own, i realized that you don’t know how it feels to have your attention it’s so intense dude you’re so intense in the best way, of course i can only hope that i get to experience that feeling more in the future maybe in the present, too p.s. i got your book again yesterday, here’s hoping second time’s the charm -H

Yesterday, Eddie thinks, he should have been more present and paid attention to what H’s note said. He’d sort of gone into tunnel vision when he’d been - however jokingly - accused of not understanding one of his books. It kind of made him wish for the first time that he could talk back. He’d contemplated just walking up to Hagan during lunch, but decided not to. He wouldn’t want to make anyone suspicious of the guy, no matter how much of an asshole he tends to be to everyone else. Eddie just isn’t that kind of person.

The audacity of a jock who’s admitted to only reading books for school - and for Eddie - to allege that Eddie needs to read a book more than once in order to understand it.

Has he read all of his favorite books more than once? Yes, but that’s only because they’re his favorites!

And does he notice something new nearly every reread? Also yes, but he chooses to believe that’s what Tolkien intended. It’s like a scavenger hunt of foreshadowing and little things to get excited about even when you know the ending.

Anyway, Eddie is decidedly less preoccupied today and he’s been wondering what book H is reading.

His curiosity leads him to venture into the school’s library before he heads to the lunchroom.

He tries to recall which books he’d checked out the last couple of months. Once he’s compiled his mental list, he tracks them down one by one. Eddie checks the card that’s in a pocket inside the front cover of each book on the off chance that Hagan’s name is logged on any of them - it’s not.

Eddie does find it interesting, though, to see a pattern in a few of the names he does see. Those that pop up multiple times are mostly people he recognizes from Hellfire.

He slowly eliminates each book until he’s left with one that’s not on the shelf. The Return of The King. The last book in the The Lord of the Rings series.

Most staff - like the students - at Hawkins High aren’t very happy when they see Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson approaching them. The school librarian isn’t one of them, though. Eddie’s been traipsing through this library for the better part of four years.

Before he’d procured his prickly personality and style as a defense mechanism to the hostile environment of high school in rural Indiana, Eddie found shelter among the creaky furniture, shelves lined with books, and Ms. Hewitt.

She’s seen his sorry face more times than you can count and has always greeted him with a smile. Today is no different.

He asks her about The Return of the King.

“Someone beat ya’ to it. Nice young man, he was.”

And while Eddie wouldn’t necessarily refer to Tommy Hagan as nice, he would for H.

Eddie thanks and bids her farewell and then he’s off to lunch.

He’s still having trouble conflating Hagan and his better half as the same person.

So, H read the last book of an already complicated series without any backstory. No wonder he was so fucking confused. Eddie laughs to himself just imagining it. Against his better judgment, he’s hopelessly endeared.

He’s late to lunch, but it’s not as if he was planning on paying for what the school thinks passes for food, anyway.

When he takes his seat at the head of the table, Jeff places an apple from his homemade meal in front of him without even looking his way or pausing his debate with Gareth (the freshman who’d flipped Eddie’s world upside down by unknowingly revealing H’s identity as the one and only Tommy fucking Hagan).

Eddie absentmindedly munches on the fruit as he takes up his usual lunchtime hobby of gazing at a certain jock’s table. He finds it sort of odd when Harrington - Steve - forces Hagan to play musical chairs or some shit, but Eddie’s not intrigued enough to care, really. He does catch sight of Hagan’s red face and clenched jaw, though. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the guy was pissed.

The change of seats provides Eddie with something more worthwhile to look at, so he’s not complaining. Steve seems in high spirits, and Eddie feels his own mood brighten in return.

When their shared elective comes along, Eddie finds himself jittery as he awaits the boy’s arrival. It makes him feel sort of silly, but not enough to lessen the excitement when Steve finally arrives.

The jock takes his seat between Eddie and Carol and turns to greet the latter.

“Carol, Robin.”

“Steve,” the girls say simultaneously without looking in his direction at all. Eddie doesn’t pretend to know what’s going on there, and he honestly doesn’t want to.

Steve then turns to his left to face Eddie, and the last thing he needs is to be limited to the same dry conversation - if you could even call it that - so he cuts him off once he starts.

“Ed-”

“Steven Harold Harrington III. How now?” Eddie has never been the best at English accents, but he figures it gets the point across just fine.

Steve’s face splits into a grin before he forces his expression into a stoic one. He continues to adopt the most heinous English accent Eddie has ever heard - including his own. “That’s His Majesty Steven Harold Harrington III to you, Edwin,” he says snottily.

Eddie can’t help but break into his own grin. Never mind the fact that Eddie’s name isn’t fucking Edwin, but Edward. Few people embrace his antics, let alone engage in them.

Eddie is so gone on this boy. He was kidding himself thinking he could stay away.

Steve Harrington might just be the end of him.

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@resident-gay-bitch @anaibis @moomkin77 @thrashbatx @salchica

@flustratedcas @ajeff855 @nerdyglassescheeseychick @pearynice @imaginary-maggie-waggie

#cuties #eddie is so easy to please #he's so oblivious #i love writing his pov #i tried to make this one a bit longer than usual bc i was starting to piss myself off a teensy bit #also #love that i'm the only one who knows what's happening behind the scenes in the bubblescoops universe #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #tommy hagan

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jeanjauthor · 1 day ago

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They may not have had a choice.

King County (the county containing Seattle, Washington, here in the USA) has some VERY STRICT guidelines for building new churches. Most newer church congregations find it far cheaper and easier to just rent & renovate an existing store in a strip mall, and if they get big enough, a box store like the one above.

And of course, King County isn't the only region-governing body to decide to be strict when it comes to building new churches. City ordinances across the US can also be quite restrictive. But honestly, it makes sense in the short to medium term. These buildings are not being used as stores anymore. They're just empty structures cluttering up the landscape. A lot of the bigger stores have switched heavily toward an online retail model and need less physical space. The "mini mall" construction boom of the 1990s has slowed down.

New construction is far more expensive than simply renting. With renting, you can keep your congregation going while saving up the money for that new construction. And as for churches that already have, well, established churches (the buildings)...many of them actually share their facilities with other denominations.

My mother's church, which is a bit of a sprawl of different building wings that's been added onto over the decades, has 3 different religious groups on top of her own (Methodists, the founding group). This includes Seventh Day Adventists (church on Saturday), Anglicans (holding services on Sunday at a slightly different time in the old church sanctuary while the Methodists use the new/modern one), and a Muslim community (services held on Friday in the community hall beneath the old sanctuary, where there aren't any seats set up; plenty of room for prayer mats that way).

Each one of these groups is not super-large, but at one time the Methodists had a big enough congregation to need to expand, but they still needed to conduct services, so they just kept the old sanctuary hall while building the new one more or less right next to it...and since the old building was merely small, not in bad condition, they kept it in place and started renting it out to other groups once they moved their congregation into the new hall.

For the other groups, it was far easier to just rent space in a facility that was already set up for worship services. And since my mother's church aren't jerks (they're a little conservative about some things, but they aren't bigots or sanctimonious by any means), they are perfectly fine with Islam services taking place within their facilities. It's a holy space, and both are Abrahamic religions; Islam acknowledges Christ as one of its great prophets, and that's 85% of everything right there. Plus, this decision to rent to Muslims was made back during the 9/11 era, when Muslims were being persecuted just for existing. Putting their mosque services inside of a clearly Christian church helped protect them from being attacked, and that was--and still is--A Very Good Thing To Do.

Frankly, with just that box store appearance alone to go on (I don't know what LCBC stands for), I would NOT have pegged it for a church of any kind. That could be serving as a sort of protective camouflage. It could be simply renting a building that already exists--a building that used to be a Pizza Hut or an IHOP will always look like a Pizza Hut or an IHOP, as they say. And they could be planning for the possibility of their congregation dwindling enough to the point where they might have to downsize their congregation...and don't want to try to sell a "lame duck" building that obviously looks like a church to...well, a group that isn't a church.

It's like how many new houses these days are made bland and boring in their construction, coloring, & details "so as not to hurt its resale value," as opposed to building a house meant to last for several generations in one family.

maybe it's because i was raised catholic but churches shouldn't look like furniture stores

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solxamber · 1 day ago

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Starstruck || Malleus Draconia

After debuting with a gothic, fantasy-inspired theme, you somehow managed to hit Malleus Draconia’s exact vibe. Now, the fae prince has single-handedly appointed himself your Number One Fan—and he's taking his job very, very seriously.

It’s finally happening. After years of grinding it out in practice rooms, singing until your voice was raw, and dancing until your legs felt like spaghetti, the moment of truth has arrived. The managers want you to decide on your debut concept.

In front of you are two choices: school theme and gothic fantasy. You glance over at the school uniform option and cringe a little inside. At your age? No, thank you.

You’re not about to spend your precious debut years waving around pom-poms and trying to look sixteen. Gothic fantasy, on the other hand? Now that’s got some style. Dark cloaks, intense lighting, elaborate costumes—it’s exactly the drama you’ve been craving.

Your manager stands beside you, flipping through a spreadsheet with an expression that can only be described as financially preoccupied.

“Listen,” he says, in a tone that suggests he’s already decided, “school theme has a mass appeal. It’s relatable. Kids these days love a little campus vibe. And you know, uniform sales have great margins…”

“I’m doing gothic fantasy,” you reply, crossing your arms with a confidence that could stop a truck.

He blinks at you. “Okay, sure, I get the allure. But are you sure? Think of the numbers, the opportunities to connect with the youth. Imagine the adorable school scenes, the casual sports day outfits, the innocent love plots…”

“Imagine the smoke machines and black roses,” you counter, eyes gleaming.

He tries another angle. “Well, just consider the feedback from market research. School themes are—"

“Gothic. Fantasy.”

He sighs deeply, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “These artists and their egos,” but gives in, albeit with a look of absolute resignation. “Fine. Gothic fantasy it is. But you’re taking full responsibility if it flops.”

Release day arrives, and your first single—complete with a dramatic, shadow-filled video and costumes that look like something out of a Victorian vampire drama—hits the internet. The reactions are… intense.

Sure, maybe it’s not an overnight sensation, but it’s more than enough to get people talking. Your fans? They’re not your typical “bought it for the vibes” crowd. They are deeply invested.

You’re talking about people who can recite your lyrics like a spell. You even see fan forums cropping up where people dissect the symbolism of your music videos. There’s a post dedicated to the exact shade of black eyeliner you’re wearing, and someone actually counted how many flickers each candle has in the video.

One day, as you’re scrolling through the comments, a particularly poetic fan post catches your eye: “The ethereal aura this idol has given us with their gothic artistry is like a dark gift from another realm.”

Okay, maybe the fandom is a little… intense. But you can’t help but grin.

It all starts innocently enough.

One day, Lilia’s showing Malleus some music videos he calls "classics" (pretty sure some of them are just 20 minutes of bats screeching over synthesizers, but to each their own).

But, as fate would have it, Malleus stumbles across your latest release. His eyes widen as the screen fills with your dark aesthetic, the intense melodies, the dramatic lighting, the black roses swirling around you like a misty dreamscape. He’s hooked.

The video ends, and he turns to Lilia, awestruck. “Who is this human?” he asks, as if you’re some kind of ancient artifact discovered under a full moon.

“Oh, that’s a new artist. Apparently, they’re pretty talented.” Lilia raises an eyebrow, amused by Malleus’s reaction. “Why? Fancy yourself a fan, young master?”

“A fan?” Malleus looks scandalized. “Lilia, I am enchanted.”

Malleus’s enchantment quickly turns into an obsession. He spends the next few days discovering every song, music video, interview, and even those mildly embarrassing “What’s in My Bag?” videos where you show off your essentials (you had no idea one video about your favorite scented candles could attract such intense devotion).

He watches one interview where the host asks if you’re afraid of fae, and you reply with a casual, “Nah, I’d love to visit them one day.”

This is what seals the deal for Malleus. This human is not only a talented artist but also respectful, brave, and curious about the fae world. He has found his idol.

He decides it’s time to support you. And, because he’s the literal prince of the Briar Valley, he does what any fae royalty would: he orders some of your albums.

One hundred of them, to be exact.

In Malleus’s defense, he has absolutely zero concept of money. To him, it’s normal to go big. So he clicks “order” without even thinking, and in his mind, it’s done. Simple.

A few days later, when the delivery truck pulls up with boxes upon boxes upon boxes, Malleus’s reaction is… complicated.

He stares at the delivery man, then back at the wall of albums now stacked in front of him, and mutters, “I may have made a mistake.”

But Malleus Draconia is no quitter. So he devises a new plan: he’ll distribute these albums across the Briar Valley. Anyone who even mildly expresses an interest gets an album handed to them with an enthusiasm that’s both heartwarming and slightly terrifying.

It doesn’t take long before every fae in the valley knows your name, and soon enough, your music is echoing through the mystical woods. You, a mere human, are now an icon among the fae. The legend of the human idol with the beautiful music, who’s brave enough to express curiosity about fae life, spreads like wildfire.

Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of a heated argument with your manager. Despite your loyal fanbase, your concert venues are… sparsely filled, to put it kindly.

“I don’t know how to make this any clearer,” your manager says, waving his phone around for emphasis. “We need more fans, more sold-out shows, or it’s not going to be viable to keep booking these venues!”

You’re about to respond when his phone dings. Then again. And again. Suddenly, it sounds like he’s strapped a vibrating blender to his hand. Ding, ding, ding, dingdingdingding.

“What the…?” He stares at the screen, his expression shifting from annoyance to shock. “I—it says you’ve sold out every single venue. Wait, wait—there’s a waiting list for tickets that haven’t even been put on sale yet?”

He looks at you, blinking in astonishment. “I never doubted you for a second!” he declares with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. You roll your eyes. “Sure, pal.”

Later that night, you decide to check the fan forum for yourself. And something strikes you as… odd. Suddenly, all these usernames sound like they belong to a fantasy RPG. You scroll through names like “Elder_Oak_Watcher,” “Pixie_Phenomenon,” and “Darkthorn_Dreamweaver” and can’t help but wonder if your fandom has fully committed to your fantasy vibe. You chalk it up to hardcore fans. Nothing suspicious, right?

The agency celebrates by booking more venues, announcing a new merch line, and—wait for it—a raffle event for a day with you. You’re thrilled but mostly relieved that things are finally looking up.

Cut to the Briar Valley, where Malleus gets wind of the fan meeting announcement. His eyes practically sparkle with delight.

“I have a chance to spend time with them?” he murmurs, clutching the announcement poster like it’s a sacred artifact.

“Of course, you do!” Lilia chimes in, grinning. “And if you’re really eager, I could help improve your odds.”

Silver, overhearing, asks. “Are we really doing this?”

“It’s for young master Malleus!” Sebek hisses, practically vibrating with devotion. “If he wishes to meet this human, we will ensure he wins that raffle! Even if I don’t understand why he’d—” He pauses, scowling. “—lower himself to that level for a human.”

Lilia waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, Sebek, let Malleus enjoy his hobby! It’s rare to see him so enchanted. Besides, a bit of human culture never hurt anyone!”

Silver shrugs, giving Malleus a supportive smile. “If this makes you happy, Malleus, we’ll all enter on your behalf.”

Sebek bristles. “Very well, if it is the young master’s wish, I, too, shall enter—though I don’t understand this human obsession.”

Lilia claps him on the shoulder. “Consider it a show of loyalty to the crown.”

Sebek mutters something about “weird human tastes” but agrees nonetheless. And with that, your raffle odds have just quadrupled, courtesy of the most enthusiastic and unhinged fae entourage you never knew you needed.

Malleus beams, and for once, the usual silence in Briar Valley is replaced with something very unexpected: the excited murmurs their prince getting ready for his ultimate fan meeting.

It’s your first “Unboxing Fan Mail!” livestream, and you’re bubbling with excitement as you tear through letters and packages. You’re halfway through reading a pile of cute fan letters when one catches your eye: an envelope with a hand-drawn gargoyle. This thing has personality.

“Whoa…,” you mutter as you carefully open it. Inside, you find a letter, written in such flowery, old-fashioned cursive you almost need a magnifying glass. Clearing your throat, you read a part of it aloud:

"Your craft has brought light and delight to the shadows of our realm. It is rare to encounter such reverence and elegance in a human. Know that your courage and respect have earned you an esteemed place in the hearts of those from lands beyond mortal reach. Enclosed is a token of my admiration—a rose from my homeland, blessed to be as timeless as the admiration I hold for you.

Sincerely,

M.D.”

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in. Your gaze drifts to the box sitting beside you, which you unwrap with careful fingers. Inside lies a single Briar rose—its petals dark and lush, radiating a faint magical shimmer that tells you this is no ordinary gift. The rose feels alive, pulsing softly with ancient magic. You gently lift it, brushing a fingertip along the petal’s edge, feeling the cool, unyielding softness.

And suddenly, you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Oh… wow,” you manage, voice wavering. You blink back tears but don’t quite succeed, pressing a hand to your mouth in a mix of joy and disbelief. “Thank you so much, M.D. This is… this is beautiful. I don’t even have words.”

Back in the Briar Valley, Malleus is watching the livestream playback with his usual calm demeanor… until he sees you crying. His face falls, and he looks at Lilia, horrified. “Did I… upset them? My letter was meant to honor them, not… bring tears.” He’s practically pale. Well, paler than usual.

“Oh, don’t fret,” Lilia chimes in with a laugh, patting Malleus on the shoulder. “They’re just happy! Look how much they loved it. You brought them pure joy!”

Malleus blinks. “So… I have not offended them?”

“Far from it! In fact,” Lilia says with a knowing smirk, “I think you’re officially their number one fan.”

Malleus’s eyes narrow with sudden, unshakeable determination. “Of course, I am,” he says, as if this is the most obvious truth in the world. “Who else could claim that title?”

You have no idea what you've gotten into.

It’s your first concert. The crowd is buzzing, their voices creating a low hum that vibrates through the walls, yet you’re backstage with a knot in your stomach that feels about the size of a boulder.

You shift from foot to foot, hands clammy as you grip the mic, wondering if this is actually a good idea or if you should just make a break for it now and head for the hills.

A voice echoes through the earpiece: “Three minutes, everyone!”

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself as the band gives you encouraging nods. All those years of training, of dreaming, of rehearsing until your feet felt like they’d fall off—this is what it was for.

Your fans are out there, waiting. You can already hear some of them chanting your name. And slowly, your nerves start to melt away, replaced by a surge of adrenaline.

The lights dim. You step onto the stage, heart pounding, and the audience erupts. Thousands of people, waving lights and singing the opening notes of your debut song back to you.

The energy washes over you, filling every corner of your soul, and suddenly there’s no room left for doubt.

The music pours out of you, and the crowd’s response is instant, electric. They're clapping, cheering, and singing along. You almost forget to breathe as you realize—they know every word.

It’s in the middle of your second song, during a moment where the lights are shining right on the front row, that you spot something peculiar.

Wait… Are those… fae?

Not just one, but three of them. And they’re not your typical, “blending in” kind of fans, either. One of them—the tall one with the horns—looks like he’s just stepped out of some mythical kingdom (which, granted, he kind of has). There’s an unmissable aura around him, and his eyes are fixed on you like you’re the most mesmerizing sight he’s ever seen.

The other two fae are close by, each one unique but unmistakably not human. And a very sleepy human is nodding off standing there.

You try to keep performing, but your heart’s pounding for a new reason now. The tall fae—he’s so intense. There’s something captivating, almost otherworldly, in the way he’s watching you, like he’s fully captured by your music. It’s a bit like he belongs here and also… really doesn’t. Yet somehow, he makes it work.

Finally, you reach the interaction part of the concert, the moment where you get to pick a “lucky fan” from the crowd for a backstage pass at your next show. Your mind goes blank for a second as you look over the crowd, but the sight of those fae at the front makes your decision easy. You raise a hand, pointing directly at the tall one, still staring at you with that intense look in his eyes.

You can feel the collective shock from the crowd as you exclaim, “You! Yes, at the front! You’re the lucky winner!”

The tall fae’s eyes widen ever so slightly, a look of pure delight crossing his face as his friends react with either shock or something bordering on exasperation. He steps forward a bit, visibly thrilled, and nods to you as if he’s just received the highest honor imaginable.

Lilia, standing beside Malleus, gives a knowing chuckle. “My, my, our prince has been blessed by fortune,” he teases.

Sebek, looking utterly scandalized, hisses, “The Young Master? At a human’s concert again? With a… backstage pass?” His voice drips with disbelief.

Silver, with a half-smile, murmurs, “Well, he does look happy. That’s what matters, right?”

And Malleus, basking in the moment, seems too happy to notice their reactions. He meets your gaze, nodding as if to say, Yes, it is I, your devoted fan.

And suddenly, you’re beaming, too, because in this moment, you realize—you’re not just performing for humans. You’ve captured the attention of beings beyond the mortal world, and something about that feels… magical.

It’s the day of your next concert, and you’re backstage, mentally preparing yourself. You’d think after the first show, the nerves would be easier to handle, but that flutter of excitement is still there. Just as you’re rehearsing a few last lines, your manager bursts in, a mix of terror and wild enthusiasm lighting up his face.

“You… you’ve got to see this,” he stammers, pulling you toward the edge of the curtain.

“Uh, okay?” You’re confused, but you follow him to peek out onto the crowd.

What you see is not what you expected.

The venue is packed. And not just with your usual audience—no, tonight, the crowd is full of fae. Like, really full of fae. A sprinkle of beastmen, a handful of humans (who look varying levels of petrified), but the overwhelming majority? Fae of every type.

You spot wings, horns, a few floating orbs of light that might just be small fae spirits, and an array of gleaming, wide eyes that are laser-focused on the stage.

In the front row, you catch sight of a familiar face. The tall fae with horns who won your backstage pass last time—he’s here, and still utterly entranced. On impulse, you give a little wave, feeling a bit silly, but somehow unable to resist.

To your surprise, he just stands there, looking stunned, until the black-haired fae next to him nudges him with an elbow. Then, almost shyly, he lifts his hand and waves back.

From Malleus’s perspective, everything is perfect. His people have fallen under your spell just as he has. Watching you emerge to greet the crowd, he’s already enraptured.

You look out into the audience, and then—to his amazement—you look right at him and wave. He freezes, utterly smitten, until Lilia nudges him. After a second, he waves back, his heart doing something he’s quite sure it’s never done before.

The concert begins, and it’s an experience beyond anything you’ve known. The fae audience is surprisingly intense—they’re quiet during the softer moments, like they’re absorbing every note, and then wildly enthusiastic during the high-energy parts.

For a second, you wonder if your music has some kind of magic in it, too. Their reaction fuels your own performance, until the final note echoes out and the crowd erupts in applause.

Then comes the moment of truth: the backstage pass winner’s meet and greet.

You’re resting in the designated room, savoring a post-concert cookie when you hear… raised voices?

“Only the winner is allowed in!” your security guard insists, sounding exasperated.

“And I’m telling you,” someone snaps back, “I won’t allow my master to go in alone to meet a human!”

Curious, you step out to find the same quartet from the front row having a tense standoff with security. The tall one—the same one who keeps catching your eye—looks as serene as ever, while his silver-haired friend seems half-asleep despite the commotion. You raise a hand. “It’s okay! Let them all in.”

The guard reluctantly steps aside, and the four file into the room. There’s an awkward pause as they stare at you, clearly debating who should introduce themselves first. The tall one steps forward, and you offer a small smile.

“So… we finally meet. What’s your name?”

“Malleus,” he says, his voice deep and slightly reverent. “Malleus Draconia.”

You’re about to respond when he holds out a hand—a hesitant, almost formal gesture. Before you can shake it, the green-haired fae scowls, clearly offended. “That’s His Highness to you, Don't causally touch him human!”

You freeze mid-motion. Highness? Fae Royalty?

“Yes,” Malleus says mildly, “though I’d rather you not call me that right now, Sebek. This is a personal occasion.”

“Oh, you’re… royalty.” You take a very controlled breath, willing yourself not to faint.

Malleus nods, completely unfazed, though Lilia snickers under his breath and gives you a little wave. “I apologize if that was not clear before. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You regain your composure. You're a professional. “Right, royalty. Got it. No big deal.” (It’s a huge deal, but you can scream into your pillow later.)

That's when it clicks. M.D, Malleus Draconia, Fae Prince.

In an attempt to break the tension(and to not spiral), you say, “By the way, I loved the little gargoyle you drew on the letter you sent me. It was cute.”

Malleus blinks, visibly taken aback. “You… liked the gargoyle?”

You nod, smiling. “They’re nice to look at.”

For a second, Malleus just stares, and it feels like his entire face is starting to glow. “You appreciate gargoyles?” he says, in a tone that sounds like you’ve just admitted you’re secretly royalty, too.

“Uh, yeah. They’re kinda cool.” You laugh, and Malleus looks like he’s been blessed by every possible deity.

Meanwhile, Sebek mutters something vaguely exasperated, and you catch a snippet: “This human has actually caught the his interest…”

Lilia laughs, giving Malleus a playful nudge. “Well, isn’t that something? I guess you truly are their number one fan, Malleus.”

Malleus nods seriously. “Of course. I am honored to be recognized as such.” His eyes gleam with utter sincerity.

You chat a bit more, exchanging small talk, until you mention offhandedly that your company has been discussing hosting a concert near Briar Valley due to the recent increase in fae fans. Malleus immediately perks up.

“Oh, well, you should simply perform in Briar Valley,” he says, as if offering his personal venue is as easy as lending a pen.

“Wait… seriously?” You look at him, not sure if he’s joking.

“Of course,” Malleus replies earnestly. “I would be delighted to arrange it. As the prince… and your number one fan.” His eyes are so bright and genuine, you can’t help but laugh.

“All right, I’d love that,” you say, heartily amused and impossibly charmed.

As they start to leave, an idea pops into your head. “Hey, Malleus, do you want a picture together?”

He blinks, clearly surprised. “A picture? I… would be honored.”

You take out your phone, getting into position, and then, on a whim, you lean over and kiss him on the cheek right as you snap the photo.

From the doorway, Sebek lets out a scandalized squawk, and your manager looks like he’s about to pass out. But Malleus? He’s wide-eyed, staring at you like you’ve granted him the greatest gift in existence.

With a wink, you murmur, “Consider it a special gift for my biggest fan.”

For a second, Malleus just stands there, wide-eyed, and then, slowly, a delighted, utterly smitten smile spreads across his face.

The concert in Briar Valley turns out to be way more fun than you could’ve ever imagined. You were nervous at first—after all, you’re literally performing in a hidden fae realm with the kind of audience that probably doesn’t even need speakers to hear you.

But once you get started, the vibe is incredible. The fae are enthusiastic, cheering and applauding in that slightly mystical way they have. Their clapping sounds like wind chimes, and every so often, you think you see little trails of magic light in the crowd.

And right in the front row, like always, is Malleus Draconia. He’s the picture of regal elegance, standing out in his official Briar Valley attire, looking like he’s attending some kind of royal ceremony. You’d almost laugh at the contrast—Malleus, dignified and regal, surrounded by a crowd absolutely hyped for a pop concert. And, because you can’t resist, you give him a cheeky wink mid-song.

Malleus doesn’t miss a beat; he looks like he’s been struck by some sort of enchantment himself. His cheeks faintly color, but he doesn’t look away, a faint, dazed smile on his face. He’s living his best fanboy life, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy every second of his reaction.

After the concert ends, Malleus insists on personally escorting you around Briar Valley. You’re beyond thrilled—after all, it’s not every day that a fae prince offers to give you a tour of his homeland. Sebek and Silver, ever loyal, trail behind, with Sebek grumbling under his breath every five seconds about “proper decorum” and “human interactions.”

Meanwhile, Lilia is there for the pure entertainment of it all, throwing you little mischievous grins whenever you glance back at him.

As you’re strolling down a cobblestone path lined with Briar roses, you feel the first drop of rain on your cheek. “Oh no, I didn’t bring an umbrella…”

But the second you say it, there’s a flurry of movement. Malleus, Sebek, Silver, and Lilia all open umbrellas in perfect unison, like some kind of magical boy band choreography. Sebek even has an extra umbrella on standby, which he’s holding out to you with a solemn look.

But before you can notice it, Malleus shoots him a look that could probably summon a thunderstorm, and Sebek reluctantly withdraws, muttering darkly under his breath about “Etiquette.”

Meanwhile, Lilia, never one to miss an opportunity, flings the extra umbrella into a bush with a casual flick of his wrist before you can even notice.

He turns to Silver and Sebek with a bright grin, “Come now, let’s give the two some space! Isn’t it so romantic?” Sebek looks horrified, about to argue, but Lilia’s already dragging him and Silver away, leaving you alone with Malleus.

So now it’s just the two of you, standing in the rain, with Malleus holding his large, intricately decorated umbrella over both of you. The umbrella’s big enough that it shields you from the rain easily, but that doesn’t stop Malleus from stepping a little closer, just to be sure.

There’s an awkward, giddy silence as you continue to walk side by side. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, and your hands brush against each other occasionally. Finally, he clears his throat and says, “Did you enjoy the concert? Briar Valley’s… first, of this sort.”

“Oh, definitely!” you say, grinning. “It was amazing to see so many fae enjoying the music. And you were right up front! You didn’t have to—”

“It was… my pleasure,” Malleus replies, his deep voice a little softer than usual. “I wanted to see everything as closely as possible.” There’s an endearing awkwardness to him that only makes him more captivating.

From the moment you met him, you thought Malleus was just a really dedicated fan—sweet, if a bit intense, but ultimately adorable. Sure, he’s got that tall, dark, and slightly terrifying vibe with the horns and the whole royal aura, but he’s also so polite and gentle that you can’t help but find it cute.

But now, as you walk under the same umbrella, his warmth just inches away, it hits you with sudden clarity. Oh, I am so, so screwed.

Because you might like him a little bit. Scratch that—a lot a bit.

Malleus glances at you, noticing the sudden shift in your expression. “Is something amiss?” His voice is gentle, genuinely concerned.

“Oh! No, I’m fine. Just, uh, a little tired from the show,” you say quickly, brushing it off.

Malleus doesn’t look entirely convinced but accepts your answer with a soft nod. Then, almost shyly, he extends his hand. “Here. It’s quite cold… if you’d like…”

You stare down at his offered hand, feeling your pulse jump. It’s such a small, polite gesture, but it sends your heart racing. You slip your hand into his, feeling his warmth seep into your skin, and a small smile tugs at your lips.

As you walk together under the umbrella, Lilia, peeking from behind a corner with a very exasperated Sebek in tow, smirks to himself. "Ah, young love," he sighs dramatically, as if he were watching a play unfold.

Back under the umbrella, Malleus is telling you about the history of Briar Valley, his voice gentle and filled with pride. You don’t catch half of it because you’re too focused on the way he looks down at you, his eyes soft and completely captivated. Every so often, he leans in a little closer, as if he can’t help himself.

Eventually, you reach the end of the walk, the rain easing off, and Malleus turns to you, looking slightly hesitant. “I hope this evening has been enjoyable for you… I wished for you to see the beauty of Briar Valley, but I… I fear I may have monopolized your time.”

You laugh softly. “Oh, trust me, I think you’re doing a great job of showing me around. Plus,” you add, “it’s not so bad sharing an umbrella with my biggest fan.”

Malleus’s expression lights up, a rare, breathtaking smile breaking across his face. “Yes,” he agrees softly, almost to himself. “Your… biggest fan.”

Before they leave, you impulsively pull out your phone. “Hey, Malleus, would you like to take another picture together? You know, as a memory of Briar Valley?”

Malleus’s eyes widen slightly, but he nods. “I would… like that very much.”

You pose, holding up your phone, and just as you snap the picture, he looks at you with a strange spark in his eyes, he leans over, just barely hesitating, and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Now you’re the one who freezes, absolutely flustered but trying very hard to play it off. You clear your throat, laugh a little too brightly, and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as if it’s no big deal. “W-Well, um, I guess we’re even now!” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t notice the warmth creeping up your face.

Malleus gives you a small, satisfied smile, clearly pleased with your reaction, while Sebek is beside himself, practically vibrating at a frequency that could power one of your concerts, as he splutters, “YOUNG MASTER, THIS IS—YOU CAN’T JUST—A HUMAN—”

But Lilia just laughs, giving Sebek a playful whack on the back. “Come now, Sebek, it’s all in good fun!"

Sebek looks torn between yelling and fainting, muttering to himself about propriety and why, oh why, would the young master be so entranced by a human?!

You just barely manage to keep it together until they leave, but the second you’re alone, you collapse onto the nearest couch, burying your face in a pillow with a ridiculous grin plastered across your face. Because Malleus Draconia, fae prince and possibly the most loyal fan you’ve ever met, just kissed you on the cheek.

Somehow, you know this is just the beginning.

The fan forum has always been your little comfort zone. You’ve got your dedicated fans, who post lovingly questionable fan art, some surprisingly deep theories about your lyrics, and even the occasional meme thread.

Today, though, you’ve decided to go on a bit of a lurking spree. You want to see what people really think—especially the critics. And you do find critics, of course, all happily airing out their grievances. But what you didn’t expect is the replies.

Each negative comment has an oddly formal, razor-sharp response that’s practically dripping with eloquent disdain, all signed "M.D." You read on, completely baffled until it dawns on you: this is Malleus.

This prince has taken it upon himself to haunt your comment section, like a very sophisticated, slightly unhinged ghost. You try to keep from snickering too loudly as you scroll through his hilarious, painfully dignified rebuttals.

I-like-snails: “I don’t understand the hype. This idol is all looks, no talent.”

M.D.: “Your failure to comprehend excellence in its truest form is unfortunate. To imply that this individual relies solely on appearance demonstrates an astonishing lack of insight. Consider expanding your understanding of ‘talent.’ Signed, M.D.”

real-idol-fan: “I’ve seen cooler concepts than this ‘gothic fantasy’ nonsense. So pretentious.”

M.D.: “Ah, but what is more pretentious, dear critic? To appreciate grandeur or to boast of one’s ‘cool’ concepts with all the subtlety of a loud footstep in the night? Gothic fantasy, as you call it, possesses a depth your mind has yet to comprehend. Signed, M.D.”

aura-aura: “This idol’s lyrics don’t even make sense. They’re just trying to sound deep.”

M.D.: “An intellect as shallow as a millpond would indeed struggle to navigate profound lyrical waters. I urge you to revisit the lyrics in question after reading a book or two on metaphor. Signed, M.D.”

You have to clutch your sides as you scroll through the thread. The idea of Malleus, a literal prince, defending you with words like “millpond intellect” and signing every single comment with his initials—it’s ridiculous.

Ridiculous and, at the same time, ridiculously touching. You’d never asked him to do this, never even thought he’d care about what random people thought of you, but here he is, waging a dignified, solo war in the fan forum trenches.

After several minutes, you take a deep breath and manage to calm down, even though you know you’re never going to look at your fan forum the same way again.

It's interview time and things are going smoothly. You’re answering questions about your latest song, about the creative process behind the music videos. All very normal stuff—until the interviewer grins, pulls out a picture, and holds it up for you to see.

You squint and realize, with dawning horror, that it’s the photo. The one of you and Malleus standing close under the same umbrella, him looking at you like you hung the stars and you, very clearly, smiling back at him. Whoever took it managed to capture a moment that looks... well, almost romantic.

"So," the interviewer says, leaning in with a gleam in their eye, "is this someone special?"

You’re ready to laugh it off, to dismiss it casually with a polite “no,” but... you freeze. Looking at that photo, at the way Malleus is watching you, something catches in your throat. “No, of course not” dies on your lips.

Your mind rewinds to all the times he’s shown up, how he’s silently supported you, those comments on the forum—and suddenly, you can’t deny it, not even to yourself.

“No comment,” you manage to say, but it sounds weak, even to you.

The interviewer’s brow arches, and they chuckle knowingly. Meanwhile, you’re scrambling internally. Oh no. Oh no, you’re in trouble. You’re in deep trouble.

The raffle winner is announced, and your mouth drops open when you hear the name. “Malleus Draconia!” Your eyes scan the crowd and—yep, there he is, beaming in a way that could light up an entire stadium, looking like he’s won the lottery.

Well, technically, he has, but there’s something about his expression that suggests this is the best moment of his life. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel the universe smirking, because it knows exactly what it’s doing by sending you this unattainable, royally handsome fae prince.

You’d had some time to think since that interview. The photo, the “no comment,” the dawning horror in your gut as you realized that yes, you’re down bad. Horrifically so. In the week since the interview, you’d come to accept it. The only issue? He's so out of your league, it’s practically laughable.

Meanwhile, Malleus is practically vibrating with excitement. As soon as his name was drawn, half of his kingdom exploded in celebratory fanfare. (To be fair, most of the Briar Valley population had entered the raffle in his name. “Statistical advantage,” Lilia had called it.)

By the time he gets home, he’s already lining up outfits, preparing what he calls “appropriate tokens of affection.”

“Perhaps... a small gargoyle?” he muses, clutching a miniature stone sculpture that weighs about as much as a small human child.

Silver clears his throat. “Maybe... consider something less... heavy?”

Undeterred, Malleus sighs but places the gargoyle back, moving on to his backup plan: a solid gold gargoyle instead.

Lilia, in the background, chimes in with, “Just give them a rock and say it’s a Briar Valley special!” Malleus ignores him.

The day arrives, and you’re waiting at a cafe for Malleus. The producers are buzzing around, setting up lights and cameras for some wholesome footage to share with your fans. You’re running through the usual script in your mind, but then Malleus walks in, looking... well, looking like Malleus. Tall, regal, glowing with excitement, and completely out of place in the modern cafe.

You’re trying to keep your cool, reminding yourself that he’s just a fan here to meet his favorite idol, but when he brushes his hand against yours as he takes his seat, you’re thrown into chaos. Wide-eyed, flustered chaos. In fact, you’re so visibly affected that one of the producers has to muffle a squeal.

You glance at Malleus, and for a second, it’s like the two of you are in your own little world, oblivious to the cameras. You’re laughing, he’s smiling in that polite but endlessly fascinated way, and it feels like the meet-cute scene in every cheesy K-drama ever made.

After the cafe, the producers decide to set up at a bowling alley. It’s cute, casual, and definitely low-stakes—or so you think. You explain the game rules to Malleus, who nods in solemn understanding. Then, you hand him a bowling ball and stand back, figuring he’ll get the hang of it soon enough.

Except... Malleus does not get the hang of it.

He lifts the ball with such enthusiasm and raw power that when he bowls, it lands with a thunderous bang. The ball rockets down the lane like it’s been launched out of a medieval trebuchet, shattering the pins with explosive force and completely obliterating the machinery behind them.

The bowling alley is plunged into silence. Even the producers are speechless.

You, however, are not. You burst out laughing so hard, tears actually stream down your cheeks, and you double over, clutching your stomach. Malleus, meanwhile, looks at the wreckage he’s caused with a sheepish expression and asks, “Did I... do it wrong?”

You’re still laughing too hard to answer. His expression is priceless—equal parts apologetic and baffled. For all the confusion on his face, he’s smiling too, in that warm, captivated way, like every sound of your laughter is worth all the destroyed bowling alleys in the world.

One of the crew members has to remind you both to stop standing in the wreckage.

After the... eventful bowling alley scene, you suggest something calmer, like feeding ducks at the park. You arrive with a bag of crumbs, ready for a relaxed, picturesque afternoon.

Malleus seems thrilled at the prospect of feeding these “quaint little birds.” He declares “I will bestow upon them many crumbs.”

But, as it turns out, ducks seem to be as unnaturally drawn to Malleus as your fanbase is to you.

The ducks start waddling toward you, sure, but when Malleus bends down to offer a handful of crumbs, they completely mob him. You watch in bewildered amusement as the ducks clamber onto him, flapping and honking, climbing his shoulders, even perching on his head like he’s the world’s fanciest scarecrow.

“I... seem to be... a duck magnet,” he murmurs, looking helplessly at you, as if apologizing for attracting every duck within a ten-mile radius. He’s totally overwhelmed, but also somehow completely fine with it. If you find this amusing, then it’s a noble cause in his mind.

They hop onto his lap, perch on his shoulders, and one brave little duck even nestles itself on his head, honking proudly as it looks down at him.

You’re giggling again, snapping photos with your phone as he stands there, a bemused fae prince turned accidental duck king. Malleus, standing there covered in feathery chaos, looks up at you, his expression softening at the sight of your laughter. You think you see the smile on his lips, and you’re certain this day can’t get any better.

Dinner with Malleus feels like the culmination of every daydream you’ve ever had and every moment you tried to ignore the thrill he gives you. The restaurant is all soft lighting and quiet music, and you’re seated across from him, barely able to touch your food because you’re too busy trying not to stare. Or at least, not to make it obvious you’re staring.

But it’s impossible not to. Malleus, in the soft glow of the candles, looks ethereal in a way that’s borderline unfair. He’s taken off his usual high-collared cloak, and he’s looking at you with an openness that feels both heart-wrenching and unbelievably warm. His eyes hold that steady, unwavering gaze that has you feeling more exposed than any stage spotlight.

You’re talking about something light—music, maybe, or the utterly ridiculous game of bowling earlier. But the words are just filler, a flimsy attempt to distract yourself from the absolute burning feeling in your chest, a feeling you’re starting to realize is a little too big to be brushed aside.

It’s love.

It’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. You’re looking at him, and it’s all you can do to not reach across the table, grab his hand, and say something incredibly unhinged like, “Hi, you don’t know it yet, but we’re soulmates.”

He leans in, head tilted as he listens to you with that pure, undivided attention. And then, his lips quirk into a faint smile, and you’re done for. Absolutely, completely done for.

Dinner wraps up, and he offers you his arm as you both leave the restaurant and step into the cool night. You take it, fingers curling around his elbow, and feel the warmth of him through the fabric.

The street is quiet, and the moon is hanging low, casting an almost dreamlike glow over everything. And you—well, you’re looking at him like he’s the moon itself, like he’s the only thing worth looking at in the whole universe.

You’re walking slowly, so slowly it feels like the moment is stretching forever, but somehow that’s not enough. You can’t stand it; you can’t stand just holding his arm and pretending this feeling isn’t eating you alive. So, finally, you stop, turn to him, and without even a thought to what this might mean for your career or the scandal it could stir, you say, “Malleus?”

He looks down at you, eyes soft, waiting.

And you just… go for it. You lean up, heart pounding so hard it’s a miracle he can’t hear it, and kiss him.

The world stands still. For a second, you wonder if you’ve overstepped, if maybe he’s going to pull away or question you or—

But then he’s kissing you back. Immediately. Thoroughly. His hand rises to cup your cheek, and he leans in with a gentleness that completely undoes you. You feel the warmth of him, the tenderness in his touch, and it’s enough to make your knees weak.

When you finally pull away, breathless, you look up to find him watching you with an expression that’s somewhere between wonder and the same sort of ache you’re feeling.

And right now, the only thing that makes sense is to kiss him again.

So you do.

This time, it’s softer, slower, like you’re both savoring it, letting the world fall away until it’s just you and him in the middle of the quiet, moonlit street.

When you finally pull back again, there’s a lingering silence. You don’t know what to say. How do you explain to someone that you’re completely undone by them? That you’re staring at him and barely restraining yourself from saying things like, “Let’s make matching T-shirts,” and “You’re my favorite human being, even if you’re technically not human.”

He’s still gazing at you, lips curved in that barely-there smile, looking utterly unphased yet somehow entirely aware of the fact that you’re melting. He’s looking at you like you’re something delicate, something precious, and it’s honestly making you want to pull him down and kiss him senseless all over again.

But instead, you just laugh, quiet and breathless. He raises a brow, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “Are you laughing at me?” he asks, in a tone that’s half curious, half amused.

“No,” you say, “I’m just… realizing something.”

“And what’s that?”

You look at him, eyes shining, and feel that burning again, that truth too big to ignore. “I’m completely in love with you.”

He doesn’t look shocked; instead, he just leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. And in that moment, you feel it again—the absolute certainty that you’re screwed. Because here’s a man who looks at you like you’re his whole world, and now that you’ve had a taste of this—of him—there’s no going back.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x you #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia

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hookhausenschips · 2 days ago

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Fingers in His Curls, Heart in Her Hands {LN4}

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Summary: Lando adored how Y/N’s touch in his hair made him feel both relaxed and on edge, unable to hide the thrill her fingers sent through him. Her playful obsession with his curls, especially his new mullet, brought out a tender, vulnerable side in him that he couldn’t deny, leaving them both captivated by each other’s presence.

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A/N: It’s our boy’s 25th birthday🥹

Lando would never admit it outright, but there was something about the way Y/N’s fingers moved through his curls that made him feel a certain way. He loved it—more than he could say—but sometimes it made him feel a little too aware of her, of how close she was, of the way her touch made his skin tingle. It was like every gentle tug and soft scratch sent a spark through him, making him feel both calm and somehow electrified all at once.

The first time Lando came home with his new mullet, Y/N could barely keep her composure. She sat on their couch in their Monaco apartment, eagerly awaiting his arrival. He’d told her he was getting a haircut, but she’d never expected… this.

When he finally stepped through the door, wearing a cap low over his eyes, her curiosity peaked. As he sat down beside her, he took off his hat with a casual, “What do you think?” revealing the masterpiece beneath. Her heart practically stopped.

Y/N had always thought Lando was attractive, but this? This was another level. His hair, now wild and curly, faded on the sides and left longer at the back, gave him an edge she hadn’t seen before. She felt her cheeks warm up, a flustered grin taking over her face. She straddled his lap, his hands finding home on her hips. Her eyes locked onto his unruly curls. She had no choice—she reached over and ran her fingers through the soft, unruly curls.

"Lando," she whispered, her voice breathless, "I didn't think it was possible, but somehow, you got even more attractive." Her fingers wove through his curls, gently tugging, and he couldn't hide the way his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he melted into her touch.

He grinned, playing it cool despite the way her hands made him feel. "Oh yeah?" he murmured, slipping his arms around her waist.

"You're really that into it?"

She laughed, leaning in to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Don't act like you didn't know. This is... dangerously good." Her hands moved up to trace the lines of the fade, grazing his scalp lightly, sending little jolts down his spine. She could feel his muscles tense and then relax as she explored every curl, the sensation grounding them both. "I'm obsessed, Norris. No one can tell me otherwise."

And from that day on, her obsession only grew. Every chance she got, her hands found his hair-whether they were walking around Monaco, cuddling in bed, or even out in public. She'd reach up with a playful grin, fingers grazing his neck and tangling in those unruly curls, and each time, Lando felt a little shiver, a blush creeping up his neck no matter how many times she did it.

He’d act unfazed, jokingly rolling his eyes or pretending to be exasperated, but deep down, he couldn’t deny how much he loved her fingers in his hair. There was something about the way her hands moved through the curls that made him feel completely at ease—and yet, a bit on edge.

One evening after dinner, they were walking hand-in-hand back to their car when she paused, turning to him with a mischievous look. Before he knew it, her hands were in his hair again, pulling him close by the curls at his nape, and he couldn't help but smile, feeling his cheeks warm.

Her fingers finding their familiar place in his hair, her nails grazing his scalp lightly, and he couldn’t help but shiver. “That… feels nice,” he mumbled, his voice coming out quieter than he intended. He felt a flush creep up his neck, and he tried to play it cool, glancing down at his shoes to avoid meeting her eyes.

She grinned, clearly catching on to his reaction. “Does it now?” she teased, giving a soft tug to one of the curls at the back, watching as he tensed up just a little before relaxing into her touch. She loved how easy it was to make him melt, to see that slight blush dust his cheeks whenever her fingers brushed over the sensitive spots at the nape of his neck.

“Don’t get cocky,” he muttered, trying to act unfazed, but he knew she could see right through him. She always did. The truth was, her touch did things to him—made him feel vulnerable in a way that was rare. He was used to being the confident one, the one who could tease her and keep his cool, but whenever her hands were in his hair, he felt that careful facade slipping.

"Oh, you love it," she whispered, wrapping a curl around her finger, her eyes locked on his. His breath hitched, and he bit his lip, trying not to give away how much he was enjoying it, but she knew. She always knew.

The next morning, as they sat in the hotel lobby waiting for his car to arrive, she reached up once again, letting her fingers trail through his curls. He leaned into her touch, eyes half-lidded with that sleepy, satisfied look she adored.

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?" he chuckled, glancing at her, trying to keep his cool but failing miserably.

"Not a chance." She smirked, tugging gently on a few strands before smoothing them back. "You did this to yourself, you know."

Lando let out a little laugh, his hand coming up to rest on hers as she played with his hair. "I didn't think it'd make you this obsessed."

"Well, you thought wrong," she replied, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Her hands drifted through his hair, each touch bringing a soft flush to his cheeks, and he loved it-the way she adored every curl, every inch of him.

"Good thing I'm not planning on going anywhere," he whispered, voice low and full of warmth.

“Mhmm, Good thing.” She whispered.

Here’s an enhanced version, adding more descriptive detail and playful tension:

One of Y/N’s favorite things about Lando—aside from the mullet, of course—was how easily she could fluster him. She loved knowing the effect she had on the usually cool and confident driver, catching him off guard with a look, a word, or a simple touch. Today, she was in the mood to see that familiar flush rise to his cheeks, and she knew exactly how to make it happen.

Determined, she set off through the McLaren garage, weaving through engineers and crew members in search of him. First, she checked the garage itself, glancing around the car but not finding him there. His driver’s room was empty too, and she knew he didn’t have any meetings. But just as she was starting to wonder where he could be, she caught sight of a familiar head of curls, bouncing slightly with each scroll of his thumb.

There he was, leaning against the wall in a quiet corner of the McLaren unit. He was dressed in his team kit, the top half of his race suit unzipped and wrapped casually around his waist, revealing the black undershirt that clung to his frame. He was absorbed in his phone, looking effortlessly composed, a picture of calm and cool. But that was about to change.

She stood there for a moment, arms crossed, just admiring him. He hadn’t noticed her yet, but she could feel the anticipation building, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Soon enough, that calm demeanor would be shattered.

As if sensing her stare, Lando’s head lifted, his eyes locking onto hers. A smirk crept onto his face, and he raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Come here often?” he asked, voice low and teasing, eyes glinting with that familiar mischief.

Y/N stepped forward, a playful glint in her own eyes as she approached him, slowly closing the space between them. When she reached him, she rose on her toes, giving him a quick kiss that left him momentarily speechless, before leaning back with a sly smile. “Depends,” she murmured, her voice soft but challenging, “What exactly are you looking for?”

Lando’s gaze flicked between her eyes and her mouth, caught off guard by the spark in her tone. He opened his mouth to respond, but she reached up first, threading her fingers into his curls, her nails gently scratching at the nape of his neck. His breath hitched slightly, his composure cracking as she continued to play with his hair.

She moved her fingers slowly, winding a few curls around her fingers, taking her time. He bit his lip, trying not to react too much, but every touch sent a little thrill through him. “Y/N,” he said, his voice coming out softer, almost like a plea.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of warmth and a hint of playful mischief. “What’s wrong, Lando?” Her tone was innocent, but he could see that knowing sparkle in her eyes. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “It’s just… well, you know…” He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he stumbled over his words. “You’re, um, kind of distracting.”

“Oh?” She laughed softly, looking completely unbothered, which only made him feel more flustered. She slid her fingers back down to the nape of his neck, scratching gently, and he felt a shiver run through him. He closed his eyes, breathing out slowly, trying to regain some composure, but it was no use. Her touch had him feeling like putty in her hands.

He tried to look away, to hide the way his face was flushing, but she tilted her head, catching his gaze. “You’re so cute when you get all flustered, you know that?” she murmured, her smile softening as she ran her fingers through his curls again, slowly, almost lazily.

He tried to gain a bit of composure back. “Y’know, if you keep doing that, I won’t be responsible for what happens next,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, though his smirk was still there, just a little less steady.

She laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. “Oh, is that right? Well, I don’t mind seeing you lose a little control, Norris,” she teased, tugging lightly at one of the curls, watching as a faint blush crept up his neck.

He chuckled, trying to keep his cool but failing as his hand slid to her waist, pulling her a fraction closer. “You know you’re trouble, don’t you?”

She looked up at him with a grin, the sparkle in her eyes enough to undo him completely. “Only for you, Lando.”

His smile softened, his gaze turning from playful to something warmer as he leaned down to kiss her properly, forgetting everything else around them.

One night as they lay in bed, the glow from the city lights casting a soft hue over the room, her hands found their familiar place at the nape of his neck, fingertips grazing the curls she adored. He let out a soft sigh, sinking into her touch, his arm wrapped around her, pulling her close.

“Y/N…” he began, but his voice trailed off as she continued, each movement sending a wave of warmth through him. He felt his usual confidence slipping, and for once, he didn’t mind. With her, he could let his guard down, let her see this softer side of him.

“You don’t have to hide it,” she whispered, her voice gentle, her fingers tracing light circles at the base of his skull. “I like it when you’re like this. When you just… relax with me.”

He swallowed, feeling his heart race as he met her eyes. “I… I just…” He hesitated, but her smile encouraged him. “I like it when you do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe a bit too much.”

She grinned, leaning in closer, brushing a kiss against his cheek, right by his ear. “Good,” she whispered back. “Because I could spend hours right here, just making you melt.”

And he did melt. He felt his shoulders relax, any lingering tension fading as her fingers continued their soft, familiar rhythm. Each gentle touch made him feel more vulnerable but also more connected to her. It was like she had this quiet power over him, one he didn’t mind surrendering to.

They laid there for a while, her fingers moving slowly, carefully, as if she wanted to savor every curl, every little shiver he gave in response. He felt his cheeks stay warm, the blush refusing to fade, but with her gentle smile and knowing gaze, he didn’t feel embarrassed.

Instead, he felt cherished, loved, and completely captivated by her.

Y/N was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him. Lando Norris had completely captured her heart, but if she were honest, his hair—that mullet—had an extra hold on her. It was a slight obsession, something she couldn’t keep her hands off, no matter how hard she tried. And truthfully, she didn’t even try to resist it anymore.

As they wandered through the hotel lobby in yet another city, his arm wrapped lazily around her shoulders, Y/N couldn’t resist reaching up to tangle her fingers in the familiar curls at the nape of his neck. Her fingertips grazed his skin lightly, sending a delicious little shiver up his spine. She loved the way his curls felt—soft but thick, unruly yet perfectly controlled. They faded short at the sides, then bloomed into that wild mess at the back, each curl begging her to play with it.

Lando chuckled, glancing down at her with an amused, slightly exasperated look. “Honestly, Y/N,” he said in a mock scolding tone, “is there ever going to be a moment you’re not running your fingers through my hair?”

She grinned up at him, completely unbothered. “Absolutely not. You’re the one who had to go and get the best hair in Formula 1.” She gave a little tug on one of the curls, watching it bounce right back into place, as if it too was resisting her, only to keep her hooked. It was impossible to ignore how soft it felt, like velvet under her fingertips.

Lando laughed, leaning into her touch despite his teasing, clearly enjoying the attention more than he was letting on. “I knew this mullet was a good decision,” he joked, but his voice softened, betraying just how much he appreciated her adoration. “Didn’t think it’d turn you into a complete addict, though.”

She tilted her head, giving him a playful pout. “Maybe it’s not my fault,” she murmured, voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. Her fingers traced the line of his fade, then sank back into the wilder curls at the back. “If you didn’t want me obsessed, you shouldn’t have made it so irresistible.”

His smirk faltered for a second as she touched him, his breath catching slightly. “So it’s the hair, not the driver?” he teased, trying to keep his tone light, though his eyes were starting to darken. “I see how it is, Y/N.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” she replied, a spark of mischief lighting her gaze. “I think it’s the whole package. But the mullet? Definitely a bonus.” She slid her hand up to the top of his head, brushing back the longer curls that always fell forward. Her fingers drifted through the soft waves, and he closed his eyes for a moment, savoring her touch. She loved how his face softened, his lips parting slightly as he leaned into her hand, completely relaxed, a faint blush rising in his cheeks.

Her fingers trailed back down, her nails grazing the skin at his nape, and he let out a soft sigh, tilting his head forward slightly as if inviting her to keep going. “Feels good, huh?” she whispered, her voice tinged with affection as she watched him practically melt under her touch.

“Maybe,” he mumbled, though his eyes remained closed, and the way his shoulders relaxed said far more than words. It was rare for him to let his guard down like this, but her touch had a way of softening him, breaking down his usual playful front. A low, contented sigh slipped from his lips as she kept up her gentle rhythm, his head tilting just so, inviting her to explore every soft curl.

She smirked, leaning in close, her voice teasing as she murmured, “Down bad for me, aren’t you?”

Lando’s eyes flicked open, and he grinned, his own playfulness reemerging. “Says the one who practically has her hands glued to my head,” he shot back, his tone warm. He leaned in, brushing his lips close to her ear. “But maybe I’m down just as bad as you are.”

That was all the invitation she needed. Her hands slid further into his hair, pulling him gently toward her until their faces were barely an inch apart, their breaths mingling. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, his lips just inches from hers, and she whispered, “You don’t even understand…” Her fingers tugged lightly at his curls, feeling the way they wound around her fingers, grounding her. “I think I could stay here forever, just like this.”

Her words seemed to break the last of his restraint. Without another word, he closed the gap between them, his lips meeting hers in a slow, lingering kiss. It started soft, unhurried, but as her fingers continued to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding around her waist, drawing her flush against him. His other hand moved up, fingers brushing along her jaw as if he couldn’t get enough of being close to her.

Time seemed to stand still as they stood there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside fading away. His lips were warm, gentle yet insistent, a mix of tenderness and barely contained need. She responded with the same intensity, her fingers exploring every curl, every inch of hair that had driven her to distraction, grounding them both in the moment.

When they finally broke apart, a little breathless, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes still half-closed, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You really are obsessed with this hair,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

She laughed, brushing another curl out of his face, her own cheeks flushed. “Guess I am,” she admitted, grinning up at him. “Good thing it’s all mine.”

He chuckled, his breath warm against her cheek. “Good thing I’m not planning on going anywhere, then.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, and for a moment, they stood there, locked in each other’s embrace.

He smirked, pulling her even closer. “All yours,” he repeated, sealing his promise with one last kiss, slow and sweet.

“So the mullet really does it for you. That’s it?” He teased as they pulled apart.

“Lando, you have no idea.” She smiled, catching his hand and guiding it back to her shoulder, so she could reclaim her rightful place in his hair. Her fingertips traced little patterns against his scalp, sending another wave of shivers through him. She loved how responsive he was to her touch, how even a simple scratch at the nape of his neck could make him soften.

They stood there in comfortable silence, her fingers moving slowly, gently, until finally, he let out a low murmur, almost like a purr. “You’re going to put me to sleep if you keep doing that,” he whispered, but he made no effort to stop her.

“Maybe that’s my plan,” she replied, grinning. “Just keep you here, quiet and still, while I play with this perfect hair of yours.”

He let out a sleepy chuckle. “Fine by me,” he whispered, a warmth in his gaze that made her heart race.

—————————

Extras:

1. At the Track

They were waiting for the race briefing to start, and Lando was in full team kit, cap on and all. Y/N leaned casually against the wall nearby, watching as he laughed and chatted with his teammates, looking every bit the confident driver she knew and loved. His cap hid most of his curls, but she caught a few unruly strands poking out at the back, teasing her with every small movement he made.

Finally, as Zac called him over, Lando adjusted his cap, lifting it briefly to scratch his head. Y/N’s breath caught as his curls were fully visible for a moment, wild and free, framed perfectly by the fade on the sides. She bit her lip, trying to hide her grin, but she felt her cheeks warm as she realized she was staring.

After the meeting ended, she found him in the hallway, and her hands went instinctively to his cap, gently lifting it off to free his curls. “There’s the look I missed,” she teased, running her fingers through his hair.

He chuckled, clearly amused by her fascination. “You really don’t get tired of this, do you?”

She flashed him a grin, her hand tangling deeper in his hair. “You have no idea, Norris. These curls… they’re dangerous.”

He leaned down, his gaze softening as he tilted his head so she could play with his hair more freely. “Dangerous? Babe, they’re just curls.”

“To you, maybe,” she murmured, her eyes lingering on each curl as if they were her own personal addiction. “To me? They’re perfection.”

Lando laughed, clearly amused. “You don’t get tired of it, do you?”

“Not even a little,” she replied with a wink, adjusting his cap as her fingers lingered a second longer than necessary. “It’s like you’re a real-life heartthrob, Norris. And this,” she tugged on a curl at the back, “is part of the magic.”

He leaned down, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Just part?”

She nodded, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Well, the rest of you isn’t too bad, either.”

2. During a Lazy Morning at Home

They had nothing planned, so they were taking full advantage of a slow, lazy morning. Lando was sprawled across the couch, head resting on Y/N’s lap as he stretched, his hair a delightful mess from having just woken up. The soft morning light filtered in, highlighting the curls that tumbled carelessly over his forehead and fell against her thighs.

Unable to resist, she reached down, fingers tracing gentle patterns in his hair. As she began to massage his scalp lightly, he let out a soft sigh, his body sinking further into her lap. “Mm… that’s heaven,” he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Oh, really?” she teased, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. She could feel him shiver slightly under her touch, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

“Yeah, really.” His eyes drifted shut, and a slow smile spread across his face. “If you keep that up, I’m going to be asleep in two minutes.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one obsessed.” She said.

He cracked one eye open, catching her gaze. “Yeah, but let’s keep that between us,” he replied, giving her a sleepy grin. “Wouldn’t want anyone to know you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger.”

She laughed, leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Deal. As long as I get to keep doing this,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his fade before drifting back to his curls.

3. At a Fancy Event

They were dressed to the nines, attending a high-profile event, and everyone around them looked like they’d stepped out of a magazine. Lando was in a sleek suit, his hair styled but still rebellious with a few curls falling out of place, giving him that effortlessly cool look she adored. Y/N, in her elegant dress, was hanging on his arm, but her mind kept drifting to the tempting curls at the nape of his neck.

As they stood mingling with a few of his friends, she couldn’t resist reaching up and brushing a curl back into place, her fingertips lingering for a moment. Carlos noticed, chuckling. “Y/N, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re more in love with his hair than with him.”

She laughed, unabashed, glancing up at Lando with a wink. “What can I say? He makes it impossible to resist. Also have you seen him?”

Lando’s cheeks flushed as he leaned down, his voice a low murmur for only her to hear. “You know, if you keep doing that, I’m going to think you’re flirting with me.”

“Oh, I am,” she replied with a playful smile, her fingers grazing the curls again, sending a shiver through him that she could feel. “But I don’t think you mind.”

He swallowed, his voice dropping as he looked at her with a smirk. “Not even a little bit.”

4. A Casual Dinner with Friends

They were out with friends at a cozy restaurant, laughter filling the air as everyone shared stories over drinks and food. Lando was animatedly recounting a funny moment from the paddock, his hands moving expressively, his face lit up with excitement. Y/N watched him, smiling, completely captivated by the way he spoke and the curls that bounced with each movement.

Unable to resist, she reached up mid-story, gently brushing back a few curls that had fallen forward. He paused, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he shot her a look that was half-teasing, half-affectionate.

“Oh, sorry,” she laughed, her fingers lingering as she gently twisted a curl around her finger. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Their friends laughed, nudging Lando playfully. “Seems like Y/N’s got you wrapped around her finger, mate.”

Lando grinned, reaching up to take her hand in his, bringing it down to his lap, though his fingers laced with hers, keeping her close. “Or maybe she’s the one who’s wrapped around my curls,” he teased, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She blushed, biting her lip as she looked up at him. “Touché,” she murmured, squeezing his hand back, feeling her heart flutter as his gaze lingered on her a moment too long.

5. Post-Race Celebration

The race was over, and adrenaline still coursed through Lando as he celebrated in the pits, drenched in champagne and absolutely beaming. Y/N ran over to congratulate him, laughter bubbling up as he caught her in a big hug, pressing her close despite being completely soaked.

“Lando, you’re getting me all wet!” she laughed, but her arms wrapped around him tighter, her hands instinctively reaching up to tousle his champagne-soaked curls. His hair was a beautiful mess, wild and free, and she couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers through it.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers, and she reached up, fingers sinking into his wet curls. “You look like a rockstar,” she whispered, giving his mullet an affectionate tug. “A very sweaty, attractive rockstar.”

He laughed, pulling her in for a kiss. “Good thing you’re still into me, sweat and all.”

“Into you? I’m completely obsessed,” she replied, running her fingers through his curls, savoring the feel of them even now, champagne-soaked and wild. “I think I might be a little obsessed.” She said, tipping her head up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. She could taste the champagne on his skin, and as she pulled back, she smiled.

He grinned, brushing a curl back from her face. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”

6. Winding Down in the Paddock

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the paddock as they walked hand-in-hand back to the car, the day’s excitement slowly winding down. The light made Lando’s curls glow, highlighting each twist and turn in a way that made her heart ache with affection. Her hand slipped up almost unconsciously, fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Lando stopped walking, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. “You’re at it again?” he asked, pretending to sound exasperated, though she could see the softness in his gaze.

She gave him a sheepish grin, her hand resting at the base of his neck. “Can you blame me? You’re the one who got this haircut and then made it my favorite thing.”

He shook his head, laughing as he leaned into her touch. “I’m starting to think you’re going to be keeping me around just for the hair.”

She pretended to think about it, giving a soft tug to one of the curls. “It’s a strong motivator,” she teased, moving her hand down to trace the line of his fade before bringing it back up to the curls.

Lando’s eyes fluttered shut as she continued to play with his hair, his usual confident exterior melting under her gentle touch. “If you keep that up, I’ll be asleep in no time,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to keep going,” she replied, her tone playful yet full of affection. She watched as his shoulders relaxed, and a look of pure contentment settled on his face.

They stood there for a few more moments, wrapped up in each other, his head bowed slightly as her fingers continued their gentle rhythm in his curls. She felt a deep warmth spread through her as he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against her forehead.

In that moment, everything felt right—the warmth of his curls under her fingertips, the soft sunset casting a glow around them, and the quiet certainty that they were exactly where they were meant to be.

7. FP1 Madness

It was nearing the end of FP1 in Mexico, and Y/N was keeping up with the session results from afar, her curiosity getting the better of her. She had noticed, though, that every single shot of Lando that day showed him with his cap firmly on his head, the brightly patterned McLaren hat never budging, and she hadn’t seen a single glimpse of his hair. She couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that maybe, just maybe, he had finally cut off the mullet she loved so much.

As soon as Lando was back in his hotel room, they connected on FaceTime, like they always did when she couldn’t be there. He appeared on her screen, still in his orange McLaren shirt and with that same cap on, looking a bit tired but happy to see her. His arms were crossed casually, and his cap was pulled down low, just like it had been all day.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, giving her a small, tired smile, clearly unaware of her suspicions.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, trying her best to look unimpressed. “So… you’re just keeping the cap on all day now? Not even letting me see the hair?”

Lando’s eyes widened in mock offense, leaning a little closer to his phone camera. “What, you don’t like my hat?” he teased, adjusting the brim slightly to cover even more of his forehead, purposely obscuring any chance she might have of seeing his curls.

“Oh, I love the hat,” she said, crossing her arms to match his posture, giving him a playful glare. “But you’ve had it on all day. What’s up with that? Did you…?” Her voice trailed off dramatically, narrowing her eyes. “Did you cut off the mullet while I wasn’t there?”

Lando burst out laughing, shaking his head in disbelief. “Why would I do that?”

Y/N gave him a look, trying to hide her smirk. “I don’t know, maybe you got tired of it, or maybe one of the guys finally convinced you to go back to a normal haircut,” she shrugged, feigning disinterest. “But if you did, you’d be too chicken to tell me.”

Lando leaned back, crossing his arms again and smirking at her through the screen. “You really think I’d get rid of the mullet and not tell you? I’m hurt, babe, I thought you trusted me.”

She rolled her eyes, feeling bratty, pushing him a little further. “I don’t know, Norris, you’ve been hiding under that cap all day. I haven’t seen one curl. Not one.”

He chuckled, clearly amused, but then his expression shifted to a playful challenge. “You really think I’d cut it? How about a little bet then?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, really? What kind of bet?”

He tilted his head, still keeping his cap firmly in place, clearly enjoying dragging this out. “If I still have the mullet, you owe me… a full day of whatever I say when I get back.”

She laughed, narrowing her eyes playfully. “And if you don’t have it?”

“Then I’ll… take you wherever you want for a weekend. No complaints, no caps, just you and me.”

Y/N pretended to think it over, finally nodding. “Alright, deal. Now show me.”

He leaned in close to the camera, holding his finger to his lips, “Only if you promise not to freak out.”

Her eyes widened, a little more nervous now. “Lando… just show me!”

He grinned, clearly savoring the moment, before slowly, dramatically, lifting his cap just enough to reveal the back of his head. And there it was—the mullet, in all its tousled glory, with the sides perfectly faded and the curls at the back just as messy as ever.

Y/N gasped, covering her mouth, then let out a laugh, relieved and slightly annoyed. “You absolute tease! You had me convinced!”

Lando burst into laughter, finally taking the cap off completely, running a hand through his curls with a smug grin. “You really thought I’d cut it off without telling you? Babe, you’re the one who keeps begging me to keep it.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes but feeling a rush of affection. “Okay, okay, you win. I’ll admit it, you had me worried.”

“Worried, huh?” He leaned closer to the camera, giving her a smirk. “Don’t worry, babe, this mullet’s sticking around. Just for you.”

She sighed, playfully exasperated, but couldn’t help smiling. “Good, because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to those curls yet.”

He grinned, shaking his head, “Glad to know you’re just here for the hair.”

She smiled back, giving him a little wink. “Maybe I am.”

LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar

F1 Taglist: @tallrock35, @yourbane, @hiireadstuff, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @donteventry-itdude, @spookystitchery, @dhanihamidi, @decafmickey, @cmleitora, @d3kstar, @mellowluka, @ysnhua, @omgsuperstarg, @qxeenjen

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