#now get over it or watch other series if you hate it that much

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

WHISPERS OF TWO FREAKS KISSING

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!reader Summary: with no memory of the party, Monday rolls around and it seems like a lot of people do. Warnings: rumours? talks about kissing, underage drinking, getting high. brief mention of being a pornstar (imagination)

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You groggily open your eyes, sunlight filtering through your curtains, making your head feel like it’s been hit with a hammer. You blink a few times, trying to adjust, but the familiar surroundings of your room only make the confusion worse.

You stretch, wincing at the headache that flares up. A groan slips from your lips, your hand instinctively reaching for your bedside table for your water bottle. It’s then that you notice how dry your mouth is, the taste lingering, unpleasant and sharp.

You tug the blankets off your legs, slowly sitting up. The floor feels like it’s shifting under your feet, and you grip the edge of your bed to steady yourself. What happened last night?

There’s a lingering fog in your mind, moments, flashes, some you recognize, others are completely foreign. You know you were at Mike Lewenski’s party last night, but beyond that, things blur.

You rub your eyes, feeling a sense of dread, but you can’t put your finger on why. Did something happen?

You shake your head, the ache only intensifying. It’s probably nothing. Just a little too much to drink, you tell yourself. Still, your stomach churns as you try to piece together the night. But for now, the headache’s enough to keep you from thinking much more.

You just wish you could remember.

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Monday rolled quickly and probably for the better, the hangover you had was a killer and you're glad that it's gone so you can actually focus.

a few things came back to you here and there, but it was mostly you just dancing and wondering around.

you hated not being able to remember what happened, because every time you get drunk, you always get the feeling you did something to embarrass yourself

and the stares people gave you as you walked into the school made you wonder if you really had.

everyone had turned to look at you with judging eyes. making the hairs on your arm stand up in nervousness.

The weight of their stares presses on you, a flush creeping up your neck as whispers follow in your walk. Your stomach twists, and you can’t shake the feeling that everyone knows something you doesn't, their judgment lingering in the air like a cloud you can't escape.

but they couldn't be looking at you. you realise that when you turned around and watch as the couple everyone makes fun of behind you, hickeys all over their necks as they walked hand in hand together.

you visibly relaxed, knowing their judgy eyes were aimed at them and not you. their whispers were aimed at them, who you now remember were kicked out of the party due to almost having sex on the Livingroom couch, in front of everyone.

now that was relieving.

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You walked to the lunch table where all of your friends sat, your tray full of gross but tolerable food in your hands as you approached your table.

You felt the atmosphere shift as you passed a few tables. The usual noise of the cafeteria felt muffled, like someone turned the volume down. Your friends were sitting there, their heads turning just slightly when you arrived, their expressions too guarded to be comfortable. It wasn’t like how it used to be. You tried to ignore the knot in your stomach and took your seat, setting your tray down with a little more force than necessary, smiling despite the weird feeling swarming in the pit of your stomach.

But as you sat, you felt the weight of their stares. They didn’t greet you like they usually did. The silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you wondered if you’d missed something, if you were being paranoid or imagining the tension in the air. You looked around, but everything seemed the same, except for the strange shift in your friends' demeanour.

"Hey," you began, trying to break the silence, your voice almost too loud. "What’s up? Why are you all so quiet?"

You awkwardly laughed as you picked at the pasta salad with your fork.

One of them, a girl you’d known for years, glanced at the others and then back at you. Her eyes darted away quickly, and she cleared her throat before responding, her words sharp and almost rehearsed.

"You can’t sit here," she said flatly, like it was an established rule, one you should already know by now.

You blinked, confused, looking at her, then the others. "What? What do you mean?" You glanced around as if maybe you missed something.

You were met with silence, and the smile on your face fell as you looked around the table.

"Did I do something wrong?" Your stomach churned a little, the unease sinking in deeper.

She looked away, and another friend spoke up. "You’re just... We can’t be seen with you anymore."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" you asked, the words slipping out too quickly. "What did I do?"

"Everybody’s calling you a freak... so... you need to go," the one on the end said quietly, like she was saying a secret.

Nobody in the group even liked her; she was always getting talked over and pushed away, which is why she earned a few eye rolls at her comment.

The first girl’s gaze shifted awkwardly, like she was unsure of how to continue. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, shaking her head. Finally, she sighed, resigned.

"You were making out with Eddie Munson at the party on Saturday," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but it still felt like it was echoing in your mind.

You froze, the air thick with confusion. You felt your heart race for a second, and you shook your head, your pulse quickening. Eddie Munson? The Eddie Munson? No way. That didn’t make sense. He didn’t even go to the party. Did he?

You racked your brain, trying to piece together the hazy fragments of the night, but there was nothing, nothing that connected you to him like that.

"That’s not true," you said, your voice firmer than you felt. "I wasn’t making out with him. I don’t even remember him being at the party." You tried to convince yourself, your words coming out too fast, too defensive, but they sounded hollow even to your own ears.

They just looked at you, blank, unfeeling. One of them even let out a short, bitter laugh, like it was obvious. "Everyone saw you," she said quietly, not meeting your eyes. "With him. Everybody's talking about it."

her hands crossed over her chest, and she looked at you like you were nothing, like a piece of filthy garbage.

you looked around the cafeteria to avoid your friends' harsh gazes and were only met with even more of them from all of your peers, staring at you and gossiping.

you shrunk in your seat, looking down and turning back in your seat, not daring to look back up at your friends as you stared at your food.

you were so confused

"That’s not... I-. I didn't. I mean, come on-" you stammered, the confusion growing with each passing second. Your stomach twisted into a tighter knot, the unease turning into something heavier, like you were sinking into the ground. You didn’t know what to say to them. You couldn’t even explain yourself because you didn’t understand what happened yourself.

"Doesn’t matter," the other friend muttered, pushing her tray aside and crossing her arms. "You’re not one of us anymore. You’re different, and we can’t hang out with you if you’re going to be a... freak."

Your chest tightened, and the room suddenly felt too small. You stared at the empty space between you and them, unsure of how to even respond. You wanted to scream that they were wrong, that they didn’t understand, but it felt like you were speaking a different language altogether. You never signed up for this, never imagined they’d turn on you like this.

They all avoided looking at you, each of them turning their attention back to their food or to whatever excuse they could find to keep from meeting your eyes. You didn’t know how long you sat there in silence, your body numb, your mind too full of questions to think straight. All you wanted was to sit with your friends, but now everything felt wrong. You never thought one stupid night at a party could change everything. But here you were, sitting across from people you once trusted, and everything was different.

"How could you think I’d do that?" you asked quietly, your voice shaky. The words tasted bitter as they left your mouth, like you were being forced to swallow something terrible. "I don’t even remember any of it."

But they didn’t respond. They just kept avoiding your gaze. You didn’t know what else to do, so you stood up, your legs shaky. You glanced back at the empty seats, the ones that used to feel like home. You didn’t know how it all got this twisted, but as you turned away, you felt the weight of it, how much had changed, how quickly everything turned upside down.

They wouldn’t even look at you as you walked away, the space between you and your friends feeling colder with each step.

you didn't know where to go, you looked around, your eyes still hung low as you searched

you had no other friends.

Then, your eyes drifted to Eddie’s usual spot. His table was empty. His friends were there, laughing, talking, completely unaffected by his absence. But Eddie? He wasn’t there.

he did it, didn't he? he wanted some kind of revenge, for what? you're not quite sure, but he must have told everybody.

which is why you stormed out of the cafeteria in search for him.

Frustration bubbled up inside you. Without thinking, your feet moved on their own, carrying you out of the cafeteria and outside, towards the bleachers. Your breath came faster now, your heart racing. you only had one location of where he'd be, because if he's not at his table, he's here, and you needed to see him, you needed to understand why he’d done this, why everything had suddenly turned upside down.

You wandered through the forest, your feet crunching over the dry leaves beneath you. The cool air did nothing to numb the knot in your stomach or the burning frustration in your chest. Your thoughts were a chaotic swirl of confusion, anger, and hurt, but one thing was clear- you needed answers. You needed to know why Eddie did this, why everything changed so suddenly.

The trees loomed above you, casting long shadows across the uneven path as you walked aimlessly. The further you got from school, the more your thoughts began to settle, but only enough to make room for the ache of betrayal to creep in. You bit your lip hard, determined not to let the tears fall. But every step you took felt heavier, as though the weight of the entire situation was pressing down on your chest.

Eventually, you came to a clearing, the sounds of the world fading as you spotted him. Eddie. He was sitting at the rundown table, the one you’d seen him at before when he did his deals. His fingers curled around a joint, the smoke curling lazily into the air. But what made your heart sink was the fact that he was alone.

His dark hair hung loosely around his face. He didn’t seem to notice you right away, too wrapped up in whatever was floating around in his mind. You stood there, just outside his sight, staring at him as the reality of the situation settled over you.

Your friends had turned their backs on you, your reputation trashed, and you couldn’t even remember what had happened that night. But Eddie? Eddie had known exactly what was happening. And now here he was, sitting in silence, as though everything was just fine.

You swallowed hard, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. Your heart ached in ways you didn’t even know were possible. Taking a deep breath, you finally stepped forward, a crunch of the dried leaves under your foot echoing throughout the clearing

Eddie’s head snapped up as he heard your footsteps, his expression shifting from a daze to surprise. His eyes were a little glazed over, the effects of the joint still lingering, but there was something in them that flickered when he saw you standing there, tense and uncertain.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice slow and a little rough, as if he wasn’t fully sure of what was happening. He took another drag from the joint, exhaling slowly as he looked you over, his gaze scanning your face for any sign of what was going on.

You didn’t say anything at first. You just stood there; the words tangled in your throat. The anger, the hurt, it all threatened to spill out, but you weren’t sure how to even begin. The confusion swirling around you was too much to process.

“What happened?” Eddie asked, his voice softer now, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine confusion. “Why are you... why are you looking at me like that?”

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to keep your composure.

“You told everyone, Eddie. that- that we...at the...Party,” you said, your voice shaky, but trying to remain firm.

“You told everyone we made out at the party on Saturday, and now I’m just... I’m a freak like you.” The last part came out bitter, the resentment you hadn’t realized was building inside you finally spilling over.

Eddie blinked at you, his expression still clouded with confusion. He took another drag from the joint and paused, clearly trying to piece together what you were saying.

"Wait, what? I... I didn’t tell anyone anything.” His voice was slow, uncertain, like the words didn’t make sense to him.

You felt your chest tighten.

“What do you mean, you didn’t? Everyone’s talking about it, Eddie. They’re all looking at me like I’m... some kind of joke. They’re calling me a freak.” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of everything still made it feel like the air was thick, suffocating.

“How could you do that? How could you let everyone think that?” you stormed up to him, snatching the joint between his fingers as he goes for another hit and puts it out on the old wood he's leaning on

Eddie shook his head, his face filled with genuine confusion. He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he couldn’t process what you were saying, looking at the waste of a joint now smushed on the table

“I didn’t... I didn’t do anything like that. I don’t even remember... what happened at the party. I was drunk, and... I don’t even remember being there half the time.”

You stared at him, a cold feeling creeping into your chest. His words didn’t make any sense, but it was clear from his expression that he wasn’t lying.

“What do you mean you don’t remember, the story you're telling people makes it out that you remember a lot?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded slowly, his gaze softening as he stood up, the joint slipping from his fingers and falling to the ground.

“No. I don’t. But I swear, I didn’t tell anyone anything.” He took a step toward you, his voice more sincere now, the distance between you two suddenly feeling much smaller.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice enough to say anything more. The hurt was still there, but now it felt more complicated. Was it possible that Eddie wasn’t the one who caused all of this? But then, if he didn’t say anything, who did?

Eddie stepped closer, his hand hesitantly reaching out, like he wasn’t sure if you’d pull away. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Everything was a blur, your thoughts, your emotions, but his words, his apology, felt like something you hadn’t expected. You’d been so angry, so hurt, but now you just felt... confused.

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to think that maybe, just maybe, Eddie hadn’t been the one to cause this mess. But you didn’t have the answers, and the truth was, you were too lost to figure it out. So, instead of saying anything else, you simply took a step back, your heart still aching, but your mind too clouded to make sense of it all.

Eddie was silent, wondering why you've jumped straight onto his back.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence heavy and uncomfortable. But then, Eddie broke it, his voice quieter than before, almost too soft for you to catch at first.

“What’s the worst part of this?” he asked, his words hanging in the air. “Is it the thought of... kissing me? Is that what you’re upset about? Or is it that now you’re known as a freak...like me”

The question hung in the air, like a challenge, but it wasn’t harsh. It was just... sad. His eyes searched yours, trying to make sense of the mess, trying to understand what you were feeling.

you frowned, because what kind of question is that?

he shook his head, knowing what you're thinking

You stood still, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. Eddie's gaze was intense, like he was desperately trying to figure out where things went wrong. There was a flicker of hurt in his eyes, hidden behind a mask of confusion and a hint of defensiveness.

He leaned against the table, his grip tightening around the joint as he looked at you, his voice strained but sharp.

"So, what is it then?" he asked, the words coming out more accusing than he meant. "Is it that the idea of kissing me is so repulsive to you? Or is it just that you're embarrassed to be associated with someone like me?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw clenching as he tried to hold back whatever feelings bubbled beneath the surface. He was trying to figure out what was going through your mind, but in that moment, it almost felt like he was accusing you of something. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t, it was hard to tell.

"don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, because why would you be acting like this?" he added, quieter now.

"You told me a while ago that you didn't think I was a freak, that you didn't want to be like them...but...your kind of sounding like them right now, so... why?" His voice cracked slightly at the end, and though he tried to mask it, you could see the hurt starting to creep into his features.

The frustration in his tone made you pause, unsure of how to respond. Was this about him being upset you didn't want to kiss him? Or was it something deeper, something more personal?

“What?” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

The weight of his words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said, the mixture of emotions on his face, hurt, confusion, and something you couldn’t quite name, only making it harder.

but Eddie was freaking out inside, how could he ask you that? that wasn't fair to you.

but he wants to know. would you say because you hated the thought of kissing him, but didn't care as much to what people think than that?

or you don't want to be a freak. would that mean you would be fine with the thought of kissing him

no- why does he always have to resort back to kissing you?

it's weird and creepy.

maybe he was a freak...but all he wanted to know was if you'd push him against the table and kiss him.

he wanted to know what your lips felt like on his.

Eddie what the fuck are you doing?! he thought, mentally slapping himself

Eddie’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he looked away. "Forget it," he muttered, his tone low and guarded now, like he regretted saying anything at all. "Doesn’t matter."

But it did matter. You could feel it. His words, his tone, the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes, it all mattered.

you didn't know what to think, you don't want to kiss him. you just cant help but think about it, you know? that doesn't mean you want to.

it's like how you think you could probably be a Porn star, but you'd never actually do it. that would be crazy, just like kissing Eddie would be crazy, right?

so, you don't hate the thought of kissing him as much as being known as a freak, but you'd rather not be called that.

and you definitely would never kiss him.

that's what's the worst part of this situation, you'd never do that, but people thought you did.

the worst part of this situation is that you are being accused of something you didn't do

but...now that you think about it.

you don't remember what happened...neither does Eddie

and if people saw it...

maybe it did happen.

maybe you did kiss Eddie.

cause where else would they get that from if they weren't told about it

you looked down and rolled on your ankles, not knowing what to say.

Eddie cleared his throat.

"Not to assume, or anything but uh- y'know if you have no one to uh...sit with. you'll always have a seat at hellfire...though I'm not sure you'd want to..embrace..being a freak or anything." he spoke. a light bite in his words as he packed up his metal lunch box with his 'stuff'

he walked back up to you and sighed "sorry..by the way..trust me...I know what it's like"

You stood there, watching him, his face still filled with regret and uncertainty, but he didn’t say anything as he turned and walked away. The words you needed, the comfort you hoped for, it all seemed so far away now, lost somewhere between the haze of the party and the mess that followed.

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ahhhh. sorry. I'M MAKING THESE SO QUICK I NEED TO SLOW DOWN BUT I CAN'T. but it's farrrr from done dww

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[archivalofsins]

There are a lot of things within Milgram that will look a lot different in hindsight. There are going to be a lot of people who may not have been there in the moment that will go why did the audience vote this way instead of that way etc.

How could none of them tell these people were bad?

The knee-jerk reaction of a lot of people who were there may be to get defensive and go well it was different in the moment. It was stressful and we were literally working against the clock. We only had three months. Plus, at times the day one verdicts for the prisoners were so decisive that most of those three months were spent getting them down from where they were at.

But like hear me out- Fuck that.

Yeah, I mean that. Fuck that shit. No one needs to explain the process to anyone else that comes trial three or after it. Milgram is a once in a lifetime media experience meant to be lived in the moment and looked at an entirely new way after that moment has ended.

Once hindsight finally sinks in fully that feeling of what one thought they knew conflicting with what they now know. Well that feeling is everything in a series like Milgram. A series where the characters relish in their lies, the swinging impressions and interpretations, revel in the idea of changing Es' and by proxy the audience's opinions on them.

They're throwing shit at the wall and seeing what sticks just as much as the audience is.

I think it's important to look back reasonably and say to ourselves man that was something. That was intense. It was a moment that felt like an eternity. It was a race we either won or lost.

That's Milgram.

I think it's important to appreciate those trials for what they were and what they gave. So we can better appreciate and understand what they've led to. To make it a little easier for us all to let hindsight in regardless of how stupid it makes us all feel or how heavily it may bruise our egos in order to reckon with the new moments we have ahead of us.

I think the most interesting thing to occur over the course of trial two were the prisoners responses to Haruka. Be it his situation or the news of his plan. Because looking back on it in hindsight... It's incredibly heart wrenching isn't it?

The audience slowly watched Haruka go through someone trying to put himself out there again albeit awkwardly and not that much to isolating himself in his room for days on end. Tearing himself up inside over what he felt he needed to do to protect the one person who ever looked at him in the way he wanted. The one person who had ever loved him in the way he wanted to be loved for better or worse.

His closest person.

So, close and so idyllic, in fact, he said she was his mother. Because she fit what he'd always wanted from a parent. Care, attention, being present. Picking out clothes for him to wear, showing him new ways to style his hair, telling him better ways to communicate with others. The proper way to communicate with others.

"Then what should have I done instead?! Tell me! Tell me, so even I can understand!"/ "It's not like I asked him to do that!"

Q.07 You just got given one million yen and need to use it up as quickly as possible, what will you do?

Haruka: I don’t know so please do it for me. I’ll give it to you.

Mu's Second Voice Drama Queen B

"It's not like I asked him to do that?"

I see. So, that's how it is, huh. You don't say anything; just because you're present, the wishes of those around you evolve to benefit you- Oh, so that's it. Like a born queen. No, it's as if you're influencing your surroundings not with words, but with pheromones.

"My sorry spells must be wearing off."

Mu: Mm... Mu's scared what if the warden changes his verdict and then terrible things happen to me.

Haruka: What no warden-san isn't like that.

Mu: But what if what they see next makes them realize Mu is a bad girl and they end up hating me...

"Hey, what if- If I am a bad girl. Don’t hate me."

Haruka: Don't worry I'll protect you- I'll talk to the warden for the both of us. They already forgave us once they wouldn't suddenly change their mind entirely-

Haruka Voice Drama Two Metamorphosis of the Weak

7:39 "Even though you said you forgive me..." You were told upfront that this is a three-trial system. "Why are you bullying me like this?" I'm not bullying you. I'm simply trying to figure out whether I should forgive you or not- and by extension whether your actions were wrong or not. "There's no way it was wrong! If I hadn't done it, nobody would have looked at me!" You killed to gain attention? The you who was never loved by anyone? "That's right! Because if I just remained a good-for-nothing, nobody would ever care about me!" Just because of that, someone- "Aren't I the only unfortunate person here?! Because I'm the only one who could never do anything right since I was born, because I could never do the same things as everyone around me, my mother gave up on me and I stopped existing in her world!"

It is so funny to read that last part again then look at Kazui in Cat going-

"I can’t stop, I can’t be normal."

And his second voice drama is just him lamenting the same thing. Like Yamanaka lowkey put some comedy in here that can only be appreciated in hindsight.

Haruka

"Why am I like this?! why does it hurt so much to just exist- I'm so sorry I had you waste your life on someone like me."

"Why was I born like this? Why does it hurt so much?"

Kazui a few trials down-

"Why am I fucking like this? Why can't I just be normal? Why do I have to let my cowardice dictate every social maneuver I make and every word I say? Just gotta keep lying it'll work out eventually! After all it's easier to be a let down than get let down! Can I get a witness bring the band in! Let's get swinging-"

"Lie, until it gets better, follow the king of the masquerade. Lick that sin and oppose punishment, until you can meet the king of the masquerade."

Sorry, I'm digressing Kazui was threatening to derail this post harder than Haruka derailed the collaboration art one. Not this time old man. Ahn one more before we hit the road-

"I can’t stop, I can’t stop- Am I still INNOCENT?"/ "I can’t stop, I can’t be normal."

Got damn it another one courtesy of Star,

"I wanted to be a pitied and loved weakling."/"I wanted to be loved, just like a cat."

Okay, now get out of here old man this is about the young man!

Mu was someone so important to Haruka that even after everything Es said to rile up and upset Haruka in his second voice drama he decided to try to be on his best behavior for her sake,

9:26s

"Haa... I'm sorry, warden-san. For causing you trouble." ... "My mother was Muu-san all along." Huh? "Muu-san is my mother." I don't think that's right. "It is, though." Is that really something you can deny... "Muu-san praises me. The useless me... She praises me, acknowledges me, looks at me, and she needs me. My current self only exists thanks to Muu-san." You did say you had two benefactors. So the other one was Muu, huh? "That's right. As long as Muu-san is here, I feel like there's a meaning to me coming to Milgram." ... "I've met my real mother. So, I'm happy. I'm sorry for causing problems earlier. I need to be a good boy- For Muu-san's sake as well."

10:52s

"U-um, I'm sorry, kind of..." Suddenly acting all well-mannered...! Is there something else you want to say? "U-uh something I want to say... Something I want to say..."

I'd appreciate if people could listen to the way Haruka speaks here the stammer and hesitance in his speaking. How when Es prompts him to say whatever he wanted to to say he says something I want to say, something I want to say. Voice cracking almost as though he knows what he should be saying but doesn't want to.

The voice direction on this line says a lot more in hindsight than it did back when this came out, huh?

11:08s

If there's nothing, that's fine. "...No, there is something..." What is it?

"Warden-san, Muu-san is afraid of Milgram."

"Please don't scare Muu-san anymore."

11:21s

You're worrying about a stranger in a situation like this? "Yes. Please forgive Muu-san next time as well." You sure are asking something of me here. Viewing Muu as your mother is great and all, but she might only be kind to you in order to use you, you know. "So, what?" ... "So, what if she's using me. Isn't it a good thing to be used? For someone to think of me as worthy enough to use me... isn't that something to be happy about?" Haruka...you... "If you don't forgive Muu-san, I'm going to kill you." You really have no learning ability whatsoever. You can't kill me. "Ah, right... Then... I'll kill myself instead." You...! "Was that against the rules too?" Not as far as I remember! "Hehe, hahahaha! See! I'm not an idiot, right?"

So, for whose sake was this again?

23/02/19

Haruka: Guard, can you hear me? You can, can’t you?

Haruka: I meant what I said in the interrogation. ……please forgive Mu-san.

23/04/07

Haruka: Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. Please forgive Mu-san. PleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-sanpleaseforgiveMu-san

"Don’t wipe me out, don’t wipe me out- I just want to be your good boy."/ "If you want to betray from jealousy- You know what’s gonna happen ON YOU."

"I need to be a good boy- For Muu-san."

23/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Mu: Haruka-kun, I brought your food. Are you still alive? Has any mould started growing?

Haruka: ……ah, thank you very much. Mu-san. Sorry, um…… I……

Mu: You shouldn’t just lock yourself in your room all day. You have to eat your food properly. Hm, well…… I do understand why you’re feeling down. It feels bad. The atmosphere recently

Haruka: Um, I’m totally fine…… Just a bit, I’m thinking, about how to do it. What to do, what to do, to…… fulfil my promise. For Mu-san’s sake……

Yet, when Es asked her why she wasn't trying dissuade him from possibly harming himself even though they were friends. Even though she was the closest to him.

Even though she influenced how he dressed,

How he conducted himself while speaking,

21/09/02  (Yuno’s Birthday)

Haruka: Y-Yuno-san. Good morning! T-today’s your birthday, right……? Ha-happy birthday……!!

Yuno: Oooh…… Thanks? You’ve definitely changed a bit huh, Haruka. You speak a little louder now, and actually look people in the eyes when you talk.

Haruka: Eh, ah, i-is that so…… I wasn’t, aware of it myself, but…… Heh, hehe. Is that so.

Yuno: Ding ding! My sensor is telling me…… this is probably a girl’s influence. Well, everyone here is slowly changing, I guess. Even me.

"Hey..why don't you listen to me...? I'm telling you... Hey...HEY, I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

22/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Mu: What’s wrong, Haruka-kun? Did something happen? You shouldn’t look away like that when you’re together with me.

Haruka: Ah, s-sorry, Mu-san. Um…… No, it’s nothing. I just, suddenly got a feeling. That something is about to happen.

Mu: Isn’t that because it’s your birthday? Or perhaps it’s a sign the guard is about to wake up again soon? Fufufu, I bet they’ll be really surprised at a lot of things.

Haruka: That, might be true. But, I want the the guard to see. ……the new, me…….

And even his behavior while she wasn't even in the same room as him,

"I've met my real mother. So, I'm happy. I'm sorry for causing problems earlier. I need to be a good boy- For Muu-san's sake as well."

"Then what should have I done instead?! Tell me! Tell me, so even I can understand!"/ "That's right! Because if I just remained a good-for-nothing, nobody would ever care about me!"

Haruka's Second Voice Drama Metamorphosis of the Weak 8:15s

Just because of that, someone-

"Aren't I the only unfortunate person here?! Because I'm the only one who could never do anything since I was born. Because I could never do the same things as everyone around me- My mother gave up on me and I stopped existing in her world."

"The things that aren’t here, and the unneeded things- Is it still living somewhere?"

Haruka's Second Voice Drama Metamorphosis of the Weak 8:30s

And you believe that killing someone because of that was the right thing to do?

"I don't know! Then what should have I done, in your opinion?! Even after stealing things important to her, my mother still wouldn't show any interest in me! Then what do you think I should have done?!"

Despite all those things and Haruka's clear desire for guidance when asked why she wasn't dissuading him from his plan Mu just went why and how could I. It's not like I told him to do that, it was his choice and as his friend I should support him.

Because that's what friends do they support each other.

"Are you planning to tell me 'that's not what friendship is'? Then what is it? It's about sticking together because it's beneficial to everyone involved isn't it?"

So, why would I try to stop him. Guard is it just that you haven't had many friends.

She said all that right after leveraging his life for her own benefit within her second voice drama. She tried to build distance between herself and Haruka's behavior all while stating.

"Ah-but if you don't forgive me Haruka-kun will die. So, I think it'd be best not to do that."

Because that's just the sort of person Mu is. She wants all the benefits from an action and none of the responsibility. It doesn't matter if people are just doing things because they wanted to help her. Because she instigated or implied. She didn't ask and they were always free not to get involved.

They didn't need to pity her or try to help.

They could have just not listened. It's not Mu's fault they did. She's always been a drama queen after all. If they want to twist it to make her look like the villain then-

"If you’re going to make me the villain- It’s ok to ignore me."/"Hey..why don't you listen to me…? I'm telling you… Hey…HEY, I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

In hindsight it really appears as though Mu just said all that to preemptively say well whatever happens to him isn't Mu's fault.

Haruka's actions and choices are his own as his friend she should support him but it's not as though what he does is Mu's responsibility. Besides guard you could just vote me innocent and that won't happen. You could just vote everyone innocent you know. Isn't Mu so smart and helpful.

Please don't recognize that as the person closest to him I could just tell him I want him alive more than I want to be innocent. If you did that I would look really bad but luckily no one is going to- Hey, hey stop that what are you no- NO!

This is all Kotoko's fault.

24/07/05 (Mu’s Birthday)

Mu: You know, I think this is all your fault really. Everyone’s on edge because you lashed out. And because of that, nobody’s paying attention to me any more. It’s kinda boring. I don’t get it.

Kotoko: ……you went out of your way to say that to my face? Aren’t you scared of me? The next target of my fangs might be you.

Mu: Why? Kotoko-san, aren’t you punishing the bad guys? I didn’t do anything wrong. And anyway, fufu, you’re talking like you’re fine too. Aren’t you gonna be not forgiven too this time? What will you do then? Start biting yourself? Fufu, that’s hilarious. I want to watch.

Kotoko: ……you’re good at provoking people. I’ll pray that you won’t be forgiven this time. When that time comes, I’ll be sure to crush you.

Yeah, it's definitely not that a good majority of people who listened to the Queen B voice drama heard how callous and inconsiderate she was in regards to Haruka's well being. Then went,

"Well if this is how you think friends are supposed to be towards each other no wonder your life is like this."

Or saw her behavior in It's Not My Fault and aptly came to the same conclusion as those who watched the voice drama then voted solely off that.

It's not like anyone thought if she didn't care if he lived or died than why should any of them? She's the closest person to him and has lived with him in person for years and wasn't even batting an eye at his plan. So, why should the audience or Es be phased by it.

Like she said none of us told him to do that. That has nothing to do with us. He made that decision all on his own and could renege on it if he so chose to. Mu didn't come in her second voice drama going,

"Guard I'm really scared Haruka may hurt himself please just vote me innocent to stop him."

No she came in there and said that him telling her his plan made her happy and really feel their friendship. Then proceeded to say that was Haruka's choice, it's not like she asked him to do it, he has his own free will. It seems like the audience just agreed a little too hard and went you're right Mu that was his decision.

He didn't need to threaten himself like that. Why did Haruka put himself in this situation? Well we'll never know. So, guess it has nothing to do with you or us. Since that's the case we won't take that into consideration when it comes to your verdict.

"Oh before I forget, about Haruka Sakurai......are you sure about that “guilty” verdict? Weren’t you offered some sort of deal? I mean, not that I care. I guess that means you thought the same."

It simply doesn't matter we didn't force him to do that but he is trying to force us to vote you innocent through saying he'll do that. Something that many people may just take issue with in and of itself. Who am I to say I'm not every voter in Milgram.

Though, a good part of it could have been pushing Haruka out of a 50/50 several times and then into guilty. Like you said it's Haruka's decision that has very little to do with us. Again, it's not like we told him to do that either. I mean Mu didn't do anything to stop him right it's just like you said Mu,

"We are just the same."

"Don’t you think it’s wonderful to control them with my gentle sting."

No one made him do that. It's not the audiences fault or Mu's. He decided to make that promise and follow through on it of his own free will so sad too bad.

Mu's Second Voice Drama Queen B

12:28s I sure have understood that talking to you isn't getting me anywhere. But I guess I'll take your little explanation into consideration. "Ah- but if you don't forgive me Haruka-kun will die. So, I'd think it'd be best not to do that." ...! [Bell tolls] So you've heard about that no sense, too? "Mhm! Haruka-kun told me! So I could rest easy according to him. That made me happy. It made me really feel our friendship!" You know about it, and you're not trying to stop him? Haruka, that is? "Why would I? Haruka-kun says that's what he wants. So, there's nothing I can do, right?" But you're calling him your friend. "Isn't it exactly because he's my friend? Isn't friendship about letting your friends do the stuff they want?" ... "Are you planning to tell me 'that's not what friendship is'? Then, what is it? It's about sticking together because it's beneficial to everyone involved, isn't it?" I don't think Haruka is benefitting from that at all. "No way... It's not like you know what's good for him." ... You sure are tough to beat. "I really don't get what it is you're trying to say, Warden-san. Haruka-kun is free to decide what he wants, and I'm not doing anything wrong. It's not like I asked him to do that!

Given what transpired over the course of the intermission and all this I'd have to say Es was right with their assessment on how beneficial Mu's friendship was for Haruka. Because honestly with friends like these who needs enemies? He tells her he's going to kill himself and her first thing is it's alright because that's what you wanted to do and it will benefit me too! You're such a good friend Haruka that makes Mu so happy.

That made me happy... It made me really feel our friendship!

Even though Haruka said from the beginning of trial two he was doing well in Milgram.

22/10/06 (Mikoto’s Birthday)

Haruka: Mikoto-san. Um, are you ok……? Mikoto: Ah, Haru-kun. It’s been a while since we last talked, huh. Yeah, I’m fine. Are you doing ok……? Haruka: Ah, I’m fine. I’ve been enjoying myself, a lot. Um, I’m sorry, for avoiding you. I was a bit scared. Of you, honestly…… Mikoto: Ahhh, yeah. I’ve been lashing out whenever I go to sleep, right? ……it’s fine. Even I think you’re right to be scared. You know, I kinda just hate that I don’t even know what’s going on myself……haha. Ah, but despite all that you still came and talked to me because it’s my birthday, right? Thank you, you’ve grown into a good man.

He'd been enjoying himself a lot- So much so he never wanted to leave,

Q.03 Do you want to leave Milgram?

Haruka: I want to stay here forever.

He was even beginning to like himself,

Q.01  Do you love yourself?

Haruka: I think I like myself now.

He was happy in Milgram he even went as far to purport that if he was in Milgram from the start then he probably wouldn't have even wound up doing what he did.

Q.10 If you could turn back time, would you commit the same “murder”?

Haruka: I don’t know. If I was in Milgram I probably wouldn’t.

Hell, in his second trial written interrogation he flat out said he didn't want to die.

Q.17 How old do you want to live to be?

Haruka: I never thought about it. I don’t want to die.

But yeah no one else had any input when it came to this plan at all. Despite the fact that up until the end Haruka continually said he wasn't doing this for himself he was doing it for Mu's sake to protect her.

23/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Haruka: ……please, don’t tell anyone. And also, please, don’t get involved. All I can do, is ask, you……

Kotoko: ––Fufu, fufufufufu. That’s a crazy thing to be thinking. Honestly, it’s weird. But I don’t hate it. If only all the wrongdoers were like you.

Haruka: No…… that’s wrong…… That’s not, why I’m doing, this……This, isn’t for me…… I have to protect…… so, Kotoko-san…… please……

Kotoko: Eh? Ah, yeah, yeah. Well, I promise I won’t get in your way. Honestly, if I could, I’d love to do it myself, but I’ll step back this time. As for what happens next…… I wonder. It depends on Es.

Not to repent for any of his behavior, not because he felt ashamed, or unhappy at his new verdict all for Mu.

23/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Mu: Haruka-kun, I brought your food. Are you still alive? Has any mould started growing?

Haruka: ……ah, thank you very much. Mu-san. Sorry, um…… I……

Mu: You shouldn’t just lock yourself in your room all day. You have to eat your food properly. Hm, well…… I do understand why you’re feeling down. It feels bad. The atmosphere recently

Haruka: Um, I’m totally fine…… Just a bit, I’m thinking, about how to do it. What to do, what to do, to…… fulfil my promise. For Mu-san’s sake……

"So, what if she's using me. Isn't it a good thing to be used? For someone to think of me as worthy enough to use me… isn't that something to be happy about?"

He couldn't have made it clearer that he wasn't doing this because he wanted to. He was doing it because he had to.

24/04/19 (Futa’s Birthday)

Futa: ––Hey, are you really ok with this? If you come with me, there’s a chance you can be saved too…… Haruka.

Haruka: Yeah…… I’ve made my mind up. I have, something, that I have to do.

Futa: Ah, is that right…… Haruka, you know, you’re an idiot. There’s no way…… that will save you……

Haruka: Yeah, thank you. I’m glad you came to talk to me, Futa. Um, thank you, for being so kind. Really. But, I’m sorry. This is all I’m able to do……

Literally the last time we see him he said it was something that he had to do. Literally to the one person who tried to dissuade him from doing it. Mu did nothing to try to stop him and Kotoko laughed like Christmas had come early. Kotoko's only complaint was she wanted to do it herself.

"Honestly, if I could, I’d love to do it myself."

Kotoko: Killing yourself all alone on a Friday night why not let me help with that.

Haruka: Na-no I'm alright please don't intervene.

The fact he told Kotoko not to intervene in hindsight could have been him looking for an out. Since he straight up asks Es if harming himself is against the rules of Milgram than goes and tells who is Es' helper his plan like don't interfere.

Like maybe she'd interfere because death isn't apart of Milgram's punishments and it'd be cheating my way out. Kotoko who openly wants everyone here besides her fucking dead just went,

Kotoko: Fufufu ha, ha rip evildoer would love to do it myself but I'll hold off. Really appreciating that you know how to take the trash out at least- I wish more criminals were like you. Can't wait to see this shit. Know what's almost as good as me getting to kill you myself- You being dead!

"“UNDER” Doltish “001 Parasite”."/ "So ridiculous, isn’t it ridiculous- They’re still here, still here, it grates me."

As Haruka stood there like,

Haruka: . . .

Why would she have done anything other than laugh. In hindsight this is the best birthday gift she could have gotten.

Mu on the other hand isn't Kotoko. She's someone that calls herself Haruka's friend. She's someone who continually presented herself as being useful through taking care of him by bringing him food to his room every day. Quelling the concerns of anyone who goes to ask about him by assuring them he's fine and she's taking such good care of him.

Yet she just straight up says him committing to doing that all for her really made her feel their friendship.

The cats not even in the bag she literally said the quiet part out loud when all this was going down. Before going if that's really what he wants to do who is she as his friend to stop him. Instead she should support him and his choices because that's what friends are for.

Then she did just what she said she would as his friend.

She supported him, brought him food, and made sure he had time to think over how to do it while giving telling everyone that asked not to worry Mu's taking care of him. Knowing full and well what he was planning and working on figuring out how to do the entire time. Because again he told her about it before it was even put into motion.

She constantly checked in and continued to instigate a scenario where she was one of the only people he saw or a daily basis.

All while saying shit like,

"Are you still alive? Has any mould started growing?"

23/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Mu: Haruka-kun, I brought your food. Are you still alive? Has any mould started growing?

Haruka: ……ah, thank you very much. Mu-san. Sorry, um…… I……

Mu: You shouldn’t just lock yourself in your room all day. You have to eat your food properly. Hm, well…… I do understand why you’re feeling down. It feels bad. The atmosphere recently.

Haruka: Um, I’m totally fine…… Just a bit, I’m thinking, about how to do it. What to do, what to do, to…… fulfill my promise. For Mu-san’s sake……

Haruka are you still alive in there- Have you begun growing mould. You're not going to betray Mu too. Do you not care enough about Mu to keep your word now is that it? But if you don't the guard will just do worse and worse things to me. The atmosphere is already so bad too... What you do care about Mu? Well if you care prove it.

Doesn't sound like that impossible of a stretch for the girl who's first song has a chalkboard with drawings goading her victim to either kill herself or be murdered, and is shown to have placed flowers on her victim's desk to basically tell her to kill herself.

Which we know the desk with the flowers on it is her victims seat because we see Mu sitting in hers in After Pain. As well as her victim after being bullied in the classroom later with the same flowers still placed on the desk.

So it wouldn't be the first time she was implied to be attempting to goad someone into killing themselves. Or even the first time she was implied to be successful either.

At no point is she shown making one attempt to dissuade him from doing this. Not even a,

"No, don't worry about that now. The atmosphere has been bad recently right let's try to cheer up together."

Or a,

"No, I understand you're doing this for Mu's sake but honestly I'd rather you not."

Just a well don't lock yourself in your room all day you have to eat even if you are planning to end it all come on now. You can't plan on an empty stomach..

Her presence had more than likely been a constant reminder of the promise he made regardless of if he didn't want to follow through or not. Making it so he became more and more focused on how to keep his word to her instead of any other possibility. Small aside the funny thing about Mu's karaoke collaboration art is the butterfly imagery.

Something shown to be a tie between her and Haruka.

I say this is funny because butterflies are heavily associated with causality. Particularly in relation to chaos theory. Such as how the smallest act like a butterfly flapping it wings can lead to catastrophe. Mu was that butterfly for Haruka. She came gently flapping in showing interest in someone who she recognized was vulnerable and took advantage of them under the pretense of being friends.

21/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Mu: Haruka-kun, are you awake……? Happy birthday.

Haruka: M-Mu-san? I… I-I’m awake…… Th-thank you, very much. I’m… glad……

Mu: ………… Shall we talk? You know, recently I’ve been pretty interested in you.

Haruka: ……!! I-in me…? Hehe, hehehe…… interested, in me.

Like she did to many of her so-called friends before him,

Q.18 Do you regret anything?

Mu: I think maybe I should have chosen my friends a bit more carefully.

All the other prisoners left Haruka in her care because they thought like the audience did in regards to Mahiru and Shidou that Mu was Haruka's friend. That she like the audience or more than the audience would want him to be okay. She would want to get out of this together with him and see him succeed even if that made her time a little more difficult. They thought that she would want him to keep living that if something was wrong she would tell them because she cared.

That Mu would do the the right thing because she said she was doing it, she said that's what they were, and they took her at her word

23/07/05 (Mu’s Birthday)

Futa: Oi, you. Is he ok? He’s not even left his room lately.

Mu: You mean Haruka-kun? Hmm. Yeah, probably. I’ve been bringing all his meals to him so he should be fine. Isn’t that great of me?

Futa: Hah? Who the hell says that sort of thing about themself. ……ah, no, well, right now I understand a bit. When you’re feeling down, it’s nice to have someone who relies on you and accepts you. The rest of us can’t really understand you from where we’re standing. But well, if you’re Haruka’s “salvation” then I guess it really is great.

Mu: Salvation……? I don’t know what you mean. Futa-kun, you don’t sound like yourself. Did you hit your head or something? Oh, wait, you actually did, didn’t you. Ahaha. Ah, putting that aside though, did you know it’s my birthday today?

24/06/22 (Haruka’s Birthday)

Shidou: ……I’m worried about Sakurai-kun. I haven’t seen him around in a while. You’ve been talking with him, right?

Mu: He’s fine. Here, look. I’ve been taking his food to him like this every day. Isn’t that great of me?

Shidou: Yes, very. I’m sorry I’ve been leaving it to you to look after him. Usually, that would be the job of us adults, and yet we’re leaving you with the burden.

Mu: Don’t worry about it. After all, me and Haruka-kun are friends.

"Are you planning to tell me 'that's not what friendship is'? Then what is it? It's about sticking together because it's beneficial to everyone involved isn't it?"

And they wound up paying for it.

The fact is that Mu knew he was suicidal just as much as Es did and for just as long as Es did. She decided not tell anyone else or try to stop him. In fact, she assured everyone else he was fine. Sure, he wasn't going out much, but he's fine-

"See look Mu is taking food to him right now. Look at this nice plate she made for him. Isn't Mu a great girl, isn't Mu helping, isn't Mu useful, isn't Mu indispensable. "

Okay, but we like all asked about Haruka. We all asked how he was, and you consistently assured us he was fine.

The first person outside of Mu amongst the prisoners to find out about Haruka's plan was Kotoko. And, well, we all saw how that went. He told her that he was going to cause harm to himself and she laughed in his face. She was delighted at the information the only downside was since he was taking himself out she couldn't do it. If only more criminals were like him though that'd be good.

After that no one else even cared enough to check in on him outside of Futa repeatedly, and Shidou once probably long after Haruka had already done it. You know who was there long before anyone else, who he viewed as a mother, someone who could have given him alternatives, told him what to do, and he would have listened to. Someone who could have done all that as his friend and just as a person who cared about his mental and physical wellbeing. Or just as a person who didn't want to watch someone die right in front of them if they could help it. In the ways she pretended to care in front of the others she lives with?

Mu.

Why the fuck would Kotoko care? It makes sense for her to find it funny, laugh, and do nothing to stop whatever plan Haruka may have had.

23/12/15 (Kotoko’s Birthday)

Haruka: ……please, don’t tell anyone. And also, please, don’t get involved. All I can do, is ask, you……

Kotoko: ––Fufu, fufufufufu. That’s a crazy thing to be thinking. Honestly, it’s weird. But I don’t hate it. If only all the wrongdoers were like you.

Haruka: No…… that’s wrong…… That’s not, why I’m doing, this…… This, isn’t for me…… I have to protect…… so, Kotoko-san…… please……

Kotoko: Eh? Ah, yeah, yeah. Well, I promise I won’t get in your way. Honestly, if I could, I’d love to do it myself, but I’ll step back this time. As for what happens next…… I wonder. It depends on Es.

She's Kotoko! Again- Her entire second song is going I fucking hate all these other people being here. Come on?

"They're still here, still here, it grates me."

And her first one has this in it,

"The normalcy sought for, fading away- Every time death comes the soul moves forward."/ "Laugh and I can get to like myself.'

"––Fufu, fufufufufu. That’s a crazy thing to be thinking. Honestly, it’s weird. But I don’t hate it. If only all the wrongdoers were like you."

At that point, by some sick form of coincidence, he's doing her a favor too without even recognizing it. Like she has no solid character motivation to give a fuck or lift a finger to stop him and every character motivation not to. She is the worst person he could have told about this. She's is popping the biggest bottles in her cell after this conversation.

But you know who has it the roughest? Futa. Not only had he been going out of his way to check on Haruka. If the last time we saw Haruka is also the day he died then Haruka just killed himself straight up on Futa's fucking birthday.

And the last conversation Futa had with him after being concerned and trusting in Mu was him begging the guy in frustration to do anything else.

24/04/19 (Futa’s Birthday)

Futa: ––Hey, are you really ok with this? If you come with me, there’s a chance you can be saved too…… Haruka.

Haruka: Yeah…… I’ve made my mind up. I have, something, that I have to do.

Futa: Ah, is that right…… Haruka, you know, you’re an idiot. There’s no way…… that will save you……

Haruka: Yeah, thank you. I’m glad you came to talk to me, Futa. Um, thank you, for being so kind. Really. But, I’m sorry. This is all I’m able to do……

He got past Mu, came into Haruka's room, probably saw what Haruka had come up with to do it and then literally went you can just come with me, you can be saved too. You don't have to do this there are options I'm listing them- He starts this giving alternatives. He's trying and it becomes clearer and clearer Haruka just isn't going to listen to him.

There's nothing he can say. He can't do anything either.

He can't restrain Haruka. Like many thought he'd be restrained after his second trial Guilty verdict. Stating that if we just voted Haruka Guilty he'd be restrained, unable to harm himself, and then we'd be able to vote Mu however we wanted with that threat no longer above our heads. Because he'd be restrained he wouldn't be able to harm himself.

Futa couldn't just tie Haruka's restraints around him all by himself and lock him in his cell until the guard woke up. Like Es Futa is smaller than Haruka while not being protected by the same measures Es is. So, he wasn't gonna throw hands with him and win that's for sure.

5'4 Futa was not winning a fight against I can kill anything smaller than me 5'7 Haruka. Yet he tried and what can you really say when you go in and check on someone you've been living with for years after months of attempting to while being told they're fine by the person closest to them who you believed then you see the state they're in and hear the plan they have to end themselves.

In the moment we didn't know what Haruka was going to do.

We don't have a tone when it comes to the timelines. But now in hindsight how gut wrenching this must have been. How upset he must have sounded. How defeated his name calling must have sounded to Haruka.

This is the difference in tone between The Last Goodbye and Space Was So Cool with hindsight. If you now ya know.

This is the sort of angst one can only feel in hindsight. It is ridiculous how hard this timeline goes now. No one can imagine being in the situation Futa was fucking in here. Seeing someone you know unraveled to the extent Haruka was where he could see no other option forward but this.

To know that whatever you say won't be heard to know that you don't even have the power to stop them.

How defeated and useless he must have felt. How absolutely helpless he must have felt during this. Standing there knowing if he could just get him out of this room, if he could just convince him to go somewhere else for even a second things could have been different now. Wondering all at once what if I came in here back then instead of just asking Mu about him, what if I stepped in earlier, what if I checked in more would I have been able to stop this.

To recognize how unhelpful what Haruka was choosing to do was for him. How it was a disservice to Haruka's very own personhood. How this wouldn't save him. All while having no power to convince him not to do it. Nobody understands how heartbreaking that could have been for him. After getting to know this dude and living with him for several years. After saying he didn't have the luxury to care about others and he wasn't a kid anyway then going right back to showing concern because that's how much he actually cared.

Despite us never seeing Haruka do the same thing for him when he was Guilty.

You're telling me no one is seeing how tragic this shit is. No one. This is an angst goldmine. I don't go in the tag so maybe there's a fucking avalanche of angst art on this timeline now. All of Futa pleading with him to just leave just get out of there and try something else be saved another way then devolving into calling him stupid in tears because it's the only recourse he has.

He can't stop him.

He can only say childish insults because how else is he going to know how stupid this all is. Then Haruka's I know and thank you for being so kind after how everyone else responded to Haruka's plan.

IT JUST HITS DIFFERENT NOW OKAY!

It hits different and doesn't deserve to hit this different but it fucking does okay. It just fucking does. Can you imagine the anguish? Because I can. It's ridiculous.

Sure he may not have been broken up about it. Maybe we'll find out later he wasn't and he didn't try to stop him at all. Yet, he's the only one who offered any other alternative. Any out. He was the only one he said not only through his words but actions don't do this.

He may have been leveled about the situation but the range of emotion that can be gleaned from this timeline now. Knowing what we know now- Is amazing! It's impressive. It is a literal playground of emotional depth.

No matter what parts of the story you touch on in hindsight it just gets more compelling.

Like that's nasty (positive connotation here)- Yamanaka was on some shit writing and making this. That's fucked up on his birthday. Futa's birthday?! He has to think about this every birthday now. Just thinking back on the dynamics between all of the characters mentioned here and how they grew over the course of these trials along with the ways they ended.

Haruka going from not even being able to speak to Kotoko to confiding in her.

Futa going from wanting to look out for Haruka and Mikoto to in a way losing both of them. Having to wonder if that concern is still there now after everything with Haruka.

Mu going from barely talking to Haruka to being the person closest to him and a driving force in some of the biggest choices he made. It's all really impressive character work. That will only get easier to appreciate the series progresses and after it ends.

[d1sc01nf3rn0]

I'm seeing a lot of people with neurodivergency, specially under the autism spectrum say that "Laios is annoying, never shuts up, is insensitive, and I can't stand him"; and the irony is not lost on me lmao.

[autumnoakes]

was watching the covid season of grey's anatomy all afternoon today and it was REALLY good with like the emotional and physical toll it took on the workers, how they all seem so tired and defeated, how often they break down in tears out of fear of their loved ones and the pain of being isolated from them, etc.

but then i stopped before they could kill off the character who spent a lot of time in manic depression last season and was actually shown to be in a better mental state right before he was killed in the middle of being a healthcare worker in a global pandemic

[koling2345]

Simon with a young and soft girlfriend. NSFW

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Boyfriend! Simon who: Was completely whipped for you, would do anything you asked without question, he'd kiss even the ground you walked on, just say the word and he'll do it.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Bought a new cell phone just to talk to you, his old cubicle could barely hold a video call with you, and now he could finally listen to you chatting away with him every time he had free time. And.. You also sent him some really nice pictures, and he kept them all on his new cell phone for his own personal use.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Sometimes it took him a while to catch up with you in all your youth, not physically, but in your interests, hobbies, the games you liked, series you watched. He wasn't that old, but keeping up with everything you did wasn't that easy, but he tried to get into your vibe. Give him a few days, he'll soon have everything in a notebook, the game you're so excited about, he'll soon be talking with you about it. He makes a point of knowing something or other, just to get into your world, to make you happy.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Melted in place when you showed off your new hoodie, which had his name, 'Riley, written right across the chest. You looked so beautiful wearing an outfit with his name written on it, as if it were a ownership, and he was grateful that you wore the hoodie without any shame, proudly showing who you belonged to.

Boyfriend! Simon who: After listening to you nagging him all week to get a hoodie just like yours, with your name on it, he finally gave in and made one. Just like yours, it had your name on the chest, showing everyone what a couple you two were. As much as he thought it was corny to wear matching clothes, he didn't mind if it was with you. He even put a Kuromi print on his hoodie, since you almost cried for him to put something from Hello Kitty on it. Sometimes he hated this cat and her derivatives, but he did it for you. All for his princess.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Always bought things for you, every time he came to see you, he never came empty-handed. Were you on your period? He would bring you chocolates and flowers, along with your favorite snacks. Did you pass through a store and want to buy something? Well, it'll be at your house as soon as possible. If he couldn't bring it himself, you could be sure that the package would arrive at your house the next day. He wasn't petty, he had plenty of money to spend and he liked spending it on you.

Boyfriend! Simon who: When he went out with you, he wouldn't let you spend a penny, no matter if you wanted a simple ice-cream, he would pay for you. And if he saw your eyes glazing over at something you saw in the shop window, he'd go and pick it up with you. Every time you went out together, you always came back with several bags of shopping, along with the plushies you loved so much. Simon didn't even know how you were going to fit more stuffed animals into your room, with all the stuff you already had.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Is a complete gentleman to you, carries your bag, always takes his helmet off you, as well as before you get on his bike, he attaches the helmet in place himself. He's the type to take you on his arms, just to stop you stepping in a puddle of water and getting your feet wet. And if you're tired, he'll carry you like a princess all the way home without complaint.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Is quite jealous of you, you're young, beautiful, and you're with an old geezer like him. Although he recognized his own value, he couldn't help but feel a sense of possession over you every time someone looked at you with ulterior motives. As a result, he would always mark you on the neck, or put a hand around your waist, always putting a part of himself in you so that everyone would know who you belonged to.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Was a completely kind prince to you on the streets, but he would wreck you inside the bedroom. He loved that you were all submissive to him, always taking him so well, accommodating him as if you were made for it. Even if he opened you all up with his fat cock, your tight cunt would stretch to accommodate him, it was like heaven on earth.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Made you bend over all night, fucking you on all fours, your ass up while he admired the new panties you made such a point of showing off to him. 'Simon's' was the writing on the lace, just seeing you wearing it made his cock throb, he took several photos of you wearing the panties, as well as giving you a good spanking session while you were over his knees, just because you loved being his good little girl.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Recorded a video as soon as he had worn you out on the bed, pulling his cock out of you, to see the mess coming out of your pussy that was full, opening your folds just to see his cum running down your thighs. Your cunt full of him, leaking because he came so hard in you. It's not his fault, seeing you on your stomach, your panties written 'Simon's', you were begging to be fucked. And he'd love to watch the video he recorded himself, his time alone at the base would be lovely.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Had a photo of you on his cell phone, bent over his knee while wearing a short skirt and thigh-high stockings, ass up, pink lace panties. On top of that, a bright red mark on your ass, the mark of the slap he had given you minutes before taking the photo, he is very proud to use this picture, and he's not shy if someone caught it. In addition, the lock screen photo was of you smiling while wearing his famous balaclava, one of the few times he let you touch the mask. Not that he regrets it.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Knew he was going on a dangerous mission, he didn't know when he was coming back, or if he was coming back. So a week before going on said mission, he took a whole week to spend with you. No work, no nothing, just him and you.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Fucked you all week, on your stomach, bending over, missionary, cowgirl, on the wall, living room, bedroom, bathroom, table, floor. Any surface he could slide his thick cock into your folds was fine with him. He couldn't stand the sight of you bending down to pick something up, or when you wore his clothes inside the house. The sight automatically made his cock throb, hard as a rock to fuck you again, always making sure to fill you with his seed, to the point where it was leaking out of you. Only then is he sure that he's filled you to the brim, like a good boyfriend does.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Wasn't very good with goodbyes, so he fucked you all night, all night he had you in a missionary, that's when he wasn't burying himself between your legs. He filled you up so well that night, the bed was full of wet spots, your pussy as full as ever, he'd leave you leaking with his cum, mixing your mess with his, just to bury himself in you and start all over again. He was relentless. His job was done, since you slept like an angel that night.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Went out on his mission early in the morning, grateful that you were out like a light, covered in sucks and marks from last night, making him tempted to go back to bed and hold on to you. But he couldn't, so he settled for a kiss on your lips and forehead. His farewell was a handwritten letter, explaining the details and saying that he loved you very much and would come back to you. Even so, it wasn't enough to prevent the tears that fell down your cheeks when you found out everything.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Even though he was on the battlefield, he couldn't stop thinking about you, always trying to maintain some kind of contact, sending messages every time he had a second of time, and if it was possible, when he was resting, he would call you. Every time the mission dragged on, he felt a sense of dread in his chest. Simon couldn't have realized how important you were, and that scared him, because for the first time in a long time, he was afraid that he wouldn't be alive to finish the mission. He promised himself that if he made it out alive, he would ask for your hand in marriage.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Stayed in a very remote area, his cell phone didn't work there, and he had no way of communicating with you, and that killed him inside, not being able to know how you were. And you were worried to death, thinking the worst.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Came home after four and a half months, of those four months he spent three without being able to talk to you. So as soon as he got off the plane that brought him back, he went to your apartment, stopping first at a jewelry store to buy you a ring, and he spared no expense. You were going to be his wife.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Was all giddy about arriving at your house, preparing to give you a surprise. As well as coming back alive, he was going to ask you to marry him, get on his knees for you. Then he rang the doorbell, still dressed in his work uniform, the box with the ring in one hand, and your favorite flowers in the other.

Boyfriend! Simon who: Stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you after all this time. It wasn't just emotion, his eyes caught your form, wearing one of his shirts, which barely did the job of covering your swollen belly. Well, it seems, he wasn't the only one with a surprise.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us

In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.

Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts

Series Master List Main Master List

TheYappingHour posted:

349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.

There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. You’ve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and you’re losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you weren’t really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team. 

“Everything ready?” Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for. 

You’d been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public don’t get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it. 

“I think so!” You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle. 

“Good, because he just pulled in the parking lot.” Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting it’s because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasn’t true. At all. “And he’s driving this matte black Aston Martin.” She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider. 

“Okay, let’s cool it on the hero worship.” You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building. 

 Outside, it’s a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop. 

Peering out into the parking lot, you’re surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors. 

“Hello!” Max’s voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself. 

“Hi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?” Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand. 

Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Water is fine, thanks.” 

“Max, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutain’s clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time. 

“Pleasure is mine.” He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty. 

“Are we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?” You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot. 

“Why? Will I be needing my body guard today?” He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio.  

You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way you’ve gone pink. “Of course not! It’s just that normally the people I have on the show travel with an…entourage.” 

“I don’t like people.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe. “I prefer to travel solo. Besides, I’m no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I don’t really need an entourage.” 

He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like it’s nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. “You’ve listened to the show then?” 

He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes you’ve made even though you’ve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer. 

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career. 

“And yet you still came.” You tease.

“I did.” He says simply and you can’t help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. It’s so quick that if you weren’t in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Max’s are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him. 

“Well, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.” 

You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how you’ll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. You’ve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years you’ve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think it’s because you’re good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with. 

Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you. 

“Thank you again for joining me today, Max. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said you’d agreed to come on the show. You don’t do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?” 

Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. You’ve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview. 

“I like your style.” His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. “GP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical ‘what’s your favorite race track.’” 

“Well, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.” For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right. 

Your eyes flicker above Max’s shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that you’re not imagining him flirting with you. 

“I have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, I’ve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-…”

“You went karting as research?” He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief. 

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Of course, I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. “My dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.” 

“Karting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?” 

“You know my dad?” Your brows nearly hit your hairline, you’re so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasn’t a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR. 

Max nods, “He was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after he’d led for the entire race.” 

You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck that’s suddenly exposed. “Oh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.” 

“Have either of you been to an F1 race yet?” A plan begins to form in Max’s head. 

“No!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. I’ve tried a few times but it’s always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes it’s easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, it’s easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.”

The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you. 

“Tell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?" 

You can’t help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “You know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.” You tease, giving him a wink. “You keep asking me questions, I’m going to be out of a job, Verstappen.” 

“I can’t help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.” He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.

The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcast’s history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesn’t mind one bit, finding that he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be with how easy he finds it talking to you. 

You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Max’s press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up. 

“I’m so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know you’re not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.” 

Max just shrugs, “If all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.” 

You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone. 

You look up at him and nod earnestly, “Of course!” 

“Why didn’t you ask me about my childhood? Usually it’s one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.” 

You shrug, face heating at being found out. “Like you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topics…” 

Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Max’s chest aches at the simple kindness you’ve extended him. It’s true, he doesn’t like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when it’s recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about.  

“Thats…wow. Thank you.” Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion. 

“Of course.” You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture. 

Max’s eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. “I know it’s kind of last minute but you were saying earlier you’d never been to a race. We’re in Miami next weekend and I’d love it if you were my guest…” 

You can’t help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. “I would love to, Max.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly. 

“Yeah.” You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice. 

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.” 

“Why Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.” 

TheYappingHour posted

987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.

yourpersonalinsta posted

234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed

tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)

@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

[voyter]

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.

ana'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.

© voyter 2024, all rights reserved.

[yuujispinkhair]

sukuna who's over heels with y/n, but y/n is stupidly in love with yuuji who is falling in love with megumi?!

Omggg I love this!!!! Thank you for sending me this 💗

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female)

Fluff. Hurt & Comfort. Friends to lovers. 2k words. Unrequited love/pining in the beginning. Sukuna and Reader get their happy end (Yuuji gets his happy end with Megumi). Mentions of cigarettes + alcohol. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

Sukuna can only shake his head at the irony. He is in love. He is fucking in love for the first time in his life, and of course, it has to be someone he cannot have! Out of everyone at this stupid college, it has to be the girl who likes his brother!

If it were any other guy, Sukuna wouldn't give a fuck and just flirt like hell with the girl he wants and give his best to steal her away from that other guy. But the problem is that Itadori Sukuna might be an asshole, but he isn't the type of asshole that would steal his brother's girl.

So Sukuna swallows down his heartbreak and forces himself to hold back, refusing to stand in the way of his baby brother's happiness. Sukuna might only be three minutes older, but he is still the big bro, still the one who sees it as his responsibility to look after his "little" brother. And Yuuji deserves it. He deserves a girl like you. He deserves your love. Sukuna will stay strong. He can do it.

But what Sukuna didn't take into account is how completely oblivious his brother is to your feelings.

You follow Yuuji around like a lost puppy, giving him hearteyes, practically swooning anytime he smiles his sunshine smile, hanging on his lips when he talks about his movie-directing classes and his new favorite TV show. But Yuuji doesn't seem to notice. And it makes Sukuna so mad! It drives him crazy! He almost spits his drink out when his brother gives you a high five and calls you "bro".

Sukuna feels sick to his stomach when he watches you wring your hands and shyly ask Yuuji if he maybe wants to go to the cinema with you to see the newest Human Earthworm movie. That super trashy horror series that Yuuji is always gushing about, which Sukuna is 99% sure you don't really like but only want to endure for the boy you have a big crush on.

But Sukuna's oblivious idiot of a brother just laughs and nods, happy that someone shares his taste, and totally misses the point,

"Yes, that's perfect! Let's also ask Megumi and Nobara to join us! Let's all go together! It will be so much fun!"

Sukuna thinks he can not only feel his own heart ache but also yours as he sees your face fall even while you force yourself to nod bravely and smile a sad smile at Yuuji.

It takes everything in Sukuna not to say something. But his restraint only lasts until he is alone with his brother. The moment the others have left, he shoves Yuuji into the wall, grabs his collar, and growls at him,

"You are so fucking dumb, brat! I would give anything to be in your shoes, but you don't even see that she wants you!"

And Yuuji blinks at him, all big eyes and completely confused,

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Sukuna lets go of Yuuji, slumping against the wall next to him, sighing and explaining the situation to him. How Sukuna likes you, and how you like Yuuji, and how everything is such a mess, and how much he hates it, especially when his little brother is too blind to see what he could have!

"Now you know, brat. Go, get her. Just don't rub it in my face, ok? I'll stay away as much as possible."

Sukuna pushes himself off the wall, about to run away and hide in some dark corner or maybe find someone to fuck and distract him from all this shit. But to his utter surprise, Yuuji's hand darts out and grabs Sukuna's sleeve.

"Wait, Kuna! I don't even have those kinds of feelings for her! There is... um... well, there is actually someone else I like."

He stands there, scratching his neck, looking sheepishly at Sukuna and blushing a bit as Sukuna stares at him with question marks in his eyes.

"Who??"

"Um, he has black hair and likes dogs and... ah shit."

And Sukuna can't help it. He bursts out laughing, doubling over because this is just so fucking dumb and messy and getting more complicated every second, and he probably should have known!

"Damn, brat, that really sounds like you! Falling for your best friend!"

In the end, Sukuna plays matchmaker for Yuuji and Megumi. It's easy, considering the way Fushiguro has been looking at Yuuji since the first day he met him. And yeah, Sukuna is not only doing it because he loves his baby brother but also because of selfish reasons. Because it means you will have to let go of your crush on Yuuji. Not that Sukuna thinks you will turn to him, but at least he won't have to watch you date his brother and pretend he doesn't care!

It feels like someone is stabbing Sukuna's heart when he watches your face twist in pain at the next party when you see Yuuji walking into the room with Megumi's hand in his.

But it will be fine! After all, Sukuna is here to catch you and mend your broken heart again. As a friend, at least.

He quickly follows you when you leave the room and run towards the backyard. You sit down on the slightly damp grass, and Sukuna joins you, sitting silently next to you while tears run down your cheeks. Sukuna offers you his half-smoked cigarette, and when your eyes meet, he can't help but think that surely you must see the pain in his eyes, too.

He quickly takes a sip from the bottle he is holding to hide the emotions threatening to swallow him while silently cursing himself for following you out here. He misjudged how fucking hard it is to look at you when you are crying. If only Sukuna could just close the distance between you and claim you as his, just kiss all your pain and his pain away.

But of course, he knows it would be too soon. For once in his life, Sukuna doesn't just want to be a one-night stand or a rebound or a revenge fuck or whatever. For once in his life, he wants more. He wants everything.

And so Sukuna is patient. Just offers you his silent company, his cigarette, his bottle of vodka, and his leather jacket when it gets chilly, and you start to shiver. He offers you his friendship, his protection, and the kind of comfort he can give without fucking you. He drives you home, makes sure you have something to eat and get some sleep.

He bangs on your door three days later when you still haven't come back to campus, calling you a brat and an idiot because it's the only way he knows how to show his worry. But he hopes he's making it better by shoving a vanilla latte and a bag with muffins from your favorite coffee shop into your hands.

Your eyes look puffy from crying, and you seem confused about what he is doing here, but you take the food and coffee from him. And Sukuna smirks at you and refuses to leave when you tell him you look like hell and don't want him to see you like that.

"I don't care, princess. Eat those damn muffins and drink your latte before it gets cold. I didn't stand in line for half an hour for you to just ignore my treats. And by the way, you always look pretty to me."

He stays until you had breakfast and took a shower, coming back to the living area with a soft,

"Thank you, Sukuna. It was nice of you to bring me muffins and coffee."

Sukuna finally leaves, lifting one tattooed hand to casually wave at you as if his heart isn't about to burst because he wants to pull you against his chest and hold you and tell you he can make you happy again.

He skips some of his classes and instead goes to the gym, working out like a madman and beating up a punching bag until he is too exhausted to think about how sad you looked and how fucking much he wants to kiss it better.

He comes back the next day to pick you up and take you to the coffee shop with him, making sure you leave the house and join the living again! It cannot be that you are crying your eyes out in your room all day!

"Stop complaining and get your bratty ass off the couch! It will be good for you to get some fresh air and shit. I am warning you if you don't put on shoes in the next 30 seconds, I will make you walk to the coffee shop in socks!"

Oh yes, Sukuna is good at this. Acting grumpy and playing the asshole while taking care of you and making sure you are ok. And somehow, you are the only one, apart from his brother, who can see right through him because you roll your eyes and laugh softly and tell him that he is the nicest asshole you have ever met.

The two of you fall into a routine where Sukuna picks you up every morning and has breakfast with you before he walks you to your first class. You constantly grow closer, and Sukuna feels his mask slipping more often around you. His typical arrogant smirk softens into a genuine smile. His snide comments turn into compliments. He isn't sure if he is doing it by accident or intentionally. Maybe he is only reacting to the way you act around him.

Because your gaze doesn't follow his brother anymore. Your face doesn't fall when you see Yuuji with Megumi. Your smile doesn't falter when you spot pink hair and realize it's the bad boy twin with the tattoos and not the good boy twin with the sunshine smile. Sukuna even feels like your smile is growing brighter when you look at him.

Could it be?

And he notices more things. Notices how you always sit so close to him now when he is at your dorm and you play video games against each other. How you always laugh at his jokes, no matter how sarcastic they are. Or how you look at him sometimes when you think he doesn't realize it. How your eyes get that dreamy little sparkle when Sukuna is sleepy, and his voice gets low and a bit raspy. How you get goosebumps on your arms when Sukuna puts his hands on your hips to steer you through a crowded room.

A few weeks later, Sukuna finds himself back at the same spot where all those weeks ago, it all began. Sitting next to you in the grass in the small backyard of your friend's dorm, where you cried when Yuuji broke your heart.

But tonight, you aren't crying. Tonight, you are smiling and throwing your head back, laughing at some dry joke Sukuna makes, looking so carefree and happy. Your shoulder is brushing against Sukuna's biceps, and your hand lands on his thigh, giving it a playful smack and staying just a little too long. And Sukuna can't help but say in that low voice, you seem to like so much,

"You are so beautiful."

For a split second, he feels his chest tense up, scared that he fucked everything up. Scared that he got it wrong and you still want his brother. Or maybe some other guy. Scared that you only see Sukuna as a good friend. Or that you only see him the way the whole campus sees him: as that sexy, asshole guy who is only good for casual sex and nothing more.

But then you turn your head to look at him, and Sukuna sees that soft expression in your eyes, the one he used to see on your face when you looked at his brother. But now it is for him, for Sukuna. And he simply knows without you having to spell it out. He knows that things have truly changed.

So, Sukuna decides to do what he wanted to do for a long time.

"I am sorry that you cried the last time we were in this backyard. But I am not sorry for why it happened. My brother is an idiot for not wanting you like that. But I am glad he is an idiot because otherwise, I wouldn't be able to do this..."

And Sukuna puts a hand under your chin, cupping it with a gentleness he didn't know he possessed while looking deeply into your eyes, checking one last time if he really got it right. You look at him with wide eyes, but you smile and nod softly as your gaze travels down to his lips.

And Sukuna sighs and presses his lips gently against yours, kissing you like he never kissed someone before, slow and gentle, as if he is scared you will break or slip through his fingers. A kiss with his eyes closed and his chest filling with a warmth he didn't know until now. A kiss into which Sukuna pours all the secret longing he felt for you for months, all the feelings he tried to hold back for his brother's sake and then for the sake of not fucking things up.

But finally, he doesn't have to hold back anymore. Because you chose him. You chose Sukuna. You are sitting here with him, with your hand in his hair and your lips moving slowly against his, a happy sigh and a soft murmur of his name falling from your lips.

The two of you only stop kissing when Sukuna's head is already spinning from the lack of oxygen. He pulls away only enough to grin at you and stroke your cheek with his thumb. And you smile back at him and whisper,

"I am glad, too, that Yuuji turned me down. Because otherwise I wouldn't have found out that it's his brother who is my perfect match. I wouldn't have found out that you, Itadori Sukuna, are the one I like the most out of everyone."

AAAHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 😭😭 Thank you so much for sending me this ask. I see Sukuna + unrequited love/pining and I lose my mind!! It's my weakness and makes me so so soft for him (even more than usual).

I hope you liked this little hurt/comfort story!! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[yeonmuse]

— Bloodlust 18+

IN WHICH, you’re stuck with him, following his rules, obeying every order all because your father had made a binding vow to strengthen your bloodline.

( pairing) - vampire!sunghoon x f!r 2.8kwc + smut. not proofread!! 3rd pov Contains!! Mentions of blood/sexual themes/asshole sunghoon [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷

Req from anon: “hi can you please do a vampire sunghoon x reader smut ive been reading all of your rockstar series and i can’t wait for you to finish it”

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @jiamini @sol3chu @right-person-wrong-time

**Jake and Heeseungs parts can be found in my library **

It went without saying that you absolutely hated Park Sunghoon, since the moment you’d arrived at his estate he hadn't shown the slightest ounce of hospitality to you. He was cold, demanding, self centered and an absolute asshole.

Of course you are forced to put up with him nonetheless, having been given to him by your father under the agreement of some sort of pact he had made with the Park Bloodline. You’d be prompted to give both your family and the park family an heir, forever binding your bloodlines and ending the decade long feud between your ancestors and the parks.

Though just because you were forced into such an agreement didn’t mean you had to make it easy, you had made every day for Sunghoon hell as well, always talking back, flirting with his friends when they’d visit, you made the simplest of conversation with him an argument and it aggravated him to the highest degree.

Today would seem to be the only day of peace that you’d be getting, being told Sunghoon would be away on business for a while, You found yourself roaming the empty library you had now become quite familiar with. The warmth of the fireplace engulfed your body, and you let out a content sigh upon finally having gotten some peace and quiet. Fingers dusting over the old outdated novels, you scanned through most of them until finding one that caught your eye. A soft hum spills from your lips as you stretch out your arms to grasp a book on a higher shelf, jumping back once you feel two arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Not quite tall enough to get it yourself hm?” The familiar tone was a dead give away that it was none other than Park Sunghoon.

“Get lost, I'm trying to read, I was told you wouldn’t be here.” Rolling your eyes you remove his arms from your waist as you continue to reach for your chosen book.

“Seems to me you’re rather struggling to get the book more so than you are reading one.” As if it took no effort he reaches for the book you had been eyeing for mere minutes now and raises it into the air.

“Tell me little one, are you interested in such a book?” Leaning down he made sure that his autumn colored orbs stared directly into yours all while you shot him an annoyed glare, seemingly struggling to retrieve the book from him.

“Oh, go on little bunny, maybe if you jump a little higher you’ll get it.” He found it amusing watching you struggle, since the moment you had moved in with him he made it his mission to get under your skin just as you did to him.

“I swear to god, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk.” Your frustration had only grown the more he opened his mouth.

“No, but I do get tired of hearing you, little rabbit.”

‘Bunny’ ‘little rabbit’ two nicknames he has used frequently since you’d moved into his estate. That was how he viewed you, a helpless rabbit for him to prey upon whenever he desired, though when you first arrived he hadn’t expected a little thing like you to give him as much trouble as you had.

“It’d make that pretty face of yours even more desirable if you’d learned to keep quiet.” Finally he brought the book down and handed it to you only for him to grab your hand and pull you into his chest the moment you reached for it.

“You’re always so sweet and coquettish when it comes to Jaeyun or Jongseong, yet you love to make it difficult for me?” His thumb gently brushes over your wrists as he stares down at them, he could smell the blood running through your veins, and the beating of your heart didn’t go unnoticed by him either.

“Wait-” before you could even protest Sunghoon had already had you pressed against the shelf behind you, his leg locked in place between your thighs to keep you from moving. His thumb immediately pressed into your wrist, silencing you, making you yelp as his nails pierced your skin.

“From now on only speak when I tell you sweetheart, I’m sick of your mouth.” His eyes pierced into yours in a way that made you fall silent almost immediately. You hated it, you hated him, even more you hated your father for having made the agreement to give you up so easily. You also hated that the moment he gave you that command you were forced to comply.

“I told your father I’d be polite, that I'd wait until you were compliant and willingly giving yourself to me, but all you’ve done is act like a brat.” He chuckles and grabs your face, forcing you to stare into his eyes, a hunger seemingly lingering in them, a look you hadn’t realized until now.

“sweet little human, I could break you in far more ways than you know. Yet you still know how to pull strings until I’m singing to your tune.” He brought your lips to his wrist, and you watched as his tongue escaped past his lips and dusted across your skin sending a shiver up your spine.

“You’re so quiet now hm? Haven’t heard that pretty mouth speak a word.”

“Fuck off.” He chuckles before his lips meet your skin again, this time sucking at the bare flesh of your wrists as he presses his knee against you, a grin cutting into his lips as he hears a moan spill past your lips mere sections after you had just cursed him.

He eyed your every move as he slid his tongue across your skin, he found himself very much satisfied as he sensed a rise in the heat of your body. As your eyes met his and you spotted that familiar cocky smirk on his lips, part of you wanted to pull away from him, to tell him off. To not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you feeling vulnerable to say the least. Though there was no fooling him he could tell you were struggling to pull upsets together, that you were failing at your attempt to fight against him. Though he also knew you were still annoyed with him, and that would make it all the more enjoyable having you crying and begging for him to make a mess of you.

“I’ll show you the proper use of that pretty mouth you got, I’ll teach you when and when not to speak.” He forces you down to your knees, holding your face in his hands to keep your mouth open. He absolutely loved the way you looked at him as if you wanted to destroy him, like you were completely pissed at him. His thumb brushes over your lip as he stares into your eyes and he leans in mere inches away from your face.

“Go on sweetheart tell me how much you hate me yeah?” Before you could manage even one word he yanks your head back by your hair and shoves his fingers into your mouth earning a frustrated moan from you.

“Let’s prepare you, yeah?” He watched as you almost instantaneously fell into your role and he couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“Already making good use of that mouth, look at you.” His eyes were locked in place, watching the way your tongue swirled and danced around his fingers. It gave him all the more reason to stuff your mouth full of him. He wastes no time undoing his belt and shoving his pants to the floor, his boxers not too far behind.

The moment he slid the tip of his cock between your lips a groan spilled past his lips. He was ecstatic. The feeling of your lips around him making him eager to explore the rest of you. He loved the way your sweet eyes gazed into his like you hated him, even though your actions said otherwise.

“Fuck,is this all I have to do to shut you up? Fuvk this pretty face?” He growls, his head falling back as he takes in the feeling of your mouth around him. Grinding his hips against your face. You took his thrusts so easily, eyes trained on him above you as you began to suck, one hand on his thigh to keep yourself still and the other on the floor beneath you. Falling into the rhythm was surprisingly easy and felt very fucking natural with him.

While Sunghoonseemed to be lost in the sensation of your sweet mouth.You on the other hand, you were a moaning mess, fingers digging into his thigh as he fists your hair and fucks your throat. The slurping and gagging noises that spilled past your lips were enough to make him cum right then and there, but he didn’t, he just kept fucking your pretty lips as if he were trying to permanently shut you up.

“Should have thought of this before you got so mouthy” Following his words Sunghoon forces the rest of his dick down your throat earning a cry from you as you feel the head of his cock excessively abuse it. He kept mercilessly fucking your mouth, muffling every moan that threatened to escape your lips. You simply whimpered pathetically, clawing at his thigh, clenching around nothing, feeling so pathetic at the fact that this had actually been turning you on. Your desperation pulled a grunt from him, making him yank your hair harder forcing a cry from your mouth which was swallowed up by his cock.

“Fuck”

Without any warning he forces himself to reach the back of your throat as he finishes in your mouth. Shooting his load into the depths of your throat, and not giving you any time to breath before he has to propped up against the bookshelf.

“Still hate me baby hm? Still angry at me?” Before you could manage even one word his lips wrapped around your lips and he began to suck at your clit. This earned a frustrated moan from you, when he treated your body in such ways there was no way you’d let out any words that were remotely coherent.

“I’m asking you a question, let me hear it.” His tongue began to lap at your folds like he was hungry for it. his nails digging into your thighs with every whine or moan of pleasure that spilled from your lips. It made him hungrier for it, hungrier to hear you crying and begging beneath him. Usually he was content with just annoying you but right now he wanted to break you.

When he was met with continued silence he removed his lips from your soaked cunt to kiss along your thighs. You became very aware of his fangs as they grazed the skin of your inner thighs earning a whimper on your part. A whimper that didn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon, tempting him to do it again.

“Oh? Does that turn you on? You're so pathetic, all it takes is my cock down your throat and tongue deep in your pretty little cunt for me to get you compliant.” He seemed to call you out on everything, everything you tried to hide or deny he knew that’s what made him so frustrating. His eyes remained trained on your face as he continued to tease your body with his fangs. At some point he even went as far as teasing himself by piercing your skin and licking the blood that spilled between your thighs.

“Mmm, a sweet taste to match the scent.” As you watched the way his tongue lapped at your blood you couldn't help but want him to take more from you, to hear more satisfied groans as he drank from your body.

As his eyes remained focused on your face he immediately dug his sharp teeth into your thighs, a satisfied moan spilling past his lips at the taste. Your taste was addicting and it was now clear to him why the others always had such a rough time being around you. He watched the way your eyes rolled back as you pulled his hair, the wetness that gushed from your thighs all while your heart beat began to speed up at the painful pleasure. Once he had finally taken enough blood to satisfy his thirst he moved back between your thighs to once again hear the lovely Melodie’s that would spill from your lips.

The way he worked his tongue was godly and it went without saying that no matter how much you disliked him at times, with a tongue like his you could easily be put in your place.

“Fuck, Stop talking and just fuck me.” His nails pressed into your thigh, a mere warning for you to fix your attitude.

“Beg for it then sweetheart, if you want me so badly.” He forced his fingers past your folds and uses them to stretch you out, watching the way your jaw clenched in annoyance as you tried to force back a moan

“Please, please Hoon it hurts, I need more.”

"Yes, say that again..beg. My pretty little human, tell me what you’d like." He loved that you didn’t shy away from begging for it. You were his, his perfect little slut, his precious little human and he’d ruin you and watch you crumble in his arms.

“please.” Your fingers coiled within his dark locks and he watched as your eyes gazed down at him full of desperation.

“I’ll train you well enough, you’ll be able to take me any time and anywhere I please.”

“Fuck, just shut- u” before you could even finish you felt him push past your entrance stretching you out until he fully bottomed out inside you. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach

“Go on finish your sentence sweetheart” He continued to jerk his hips up into you knowing that if he kept at it you wouldn’t be able to say a word. He found pure amusement in watching the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.

“So pathetic, the moment you get stuffed like a pretty little cocksleeve you immediately go mute.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back against your chest. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt if any had gone away. He wasted no time fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars.

Your nails clawing at the shelf behind you and your mouth fell open, lines of saliva dripping down your chin as gargled moans spilled past your lips.

“H-Hoon.” The sound of his name spilling from your lips was like heaven. He immediately leans down to take your nipple between his lips while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the flicking of his tongue against your breasts every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push.

“Look at you pretty girl, you hate me so much yet here you are taking my cock like a desperate fiend.” Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.

“Such a pretty little whore gonna cum all over my cock after complaining all this time about how much she hates me.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge, the moment he pushed down upon your stomach your legs shook and it was a glorious sight for Sunghoon to see you squirt upon the impact of his hand. Your legs shook violently as his thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there, your cum spilling out onto his cock along with the desk in mere seconds. Subghoon wasnt too far behind as the fucked out look on your face and the way your tight cunt clenched around him was all he needed for him to spill his load into you.

He took pride in watching you struggle to catch your breath.

“Still hate me sweetheart?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good thing I have forever to fuck it out of you then.”

[cevansbrat0007]

Bold Moves

Summary: You decide to slip Ari your panties during an innocent encounter at the public library...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Brief Discussions of Body Image, Bird Being Brave, Going Commando, Light Roleplaying, Frisking, Manhandling, Spanking, Ass Slapping, P in V Sex, Implied Overstimulation, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Decided to finish this when I came across it in my drafts. Takes place earlier in Ari and Bird's romantic relationship. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“I’m so glad you pitched me this idea, Marisol.” You beam as you finish writing in your notebook. “I know it’s still early yet, but I would love to collaborate with you for Halloween.”

“Yes!” The younger woman cheers, throwing her arms up in the air. “I knew I picked the right woman.”

“Just I knew they picked the right woman to run the town library.” You throw her a wink before tucking your pad and pen back into your purse. “Now, I hate to cut this meeting short…” Out of habit you press a hand against your belly, silently wishing you’d opted to throw on a pair of spanx this morning instead of a flimsy pair of panties. 

Frankly, you were tired of sucking it in. But every time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you looked pretty damn good. Perhaps your confidence was growing after all. 

“But I need to get home and change so I can run by the shop before it gets too late.” You finish, feeling grateful when the sweet librarian sees fit to lead you out of her office.

“Sooo…” The dark-haired woman drags out the word, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as you both come around the corner. “Word on the street is that you’ve been seeing a lot of Detective Levinson lately. Everything good, I hope?”

 “What do you mean?” You respond, willing your pulse to remain steady. “Everything’s fine. He just…likes for me to call him whenever something new pops up about Martin. That’s all.”

And whenever you lock up in the evening. And when you make it home. And then again to decide if he’s coming to your place for the night. Or, if you’re already on the back roads heading to his. 

It was all so fun and exciting. But at the same time, it was just sex. Amazing sex, mind you. But just sex all the same.    

Instead of responding immediately, Marisol simply chooses to link her arm through yours. “Mm. While I haven’t lived here long, I’ve already learned how much this town loves gossip.” She muses. “Which is why I try to fly under the radar at all times.”

“Uh huh.” You give her a gentle nudge. “Even when it comes to a certain Officer Milton?”

“Shh! We do no not speak that man’s name in this house!”

“Why not?”

“Because I feel like he always goes out of his way to just…be around. He’s like a puppy. I do not have time for puppies, chica. I’m too busy building a career amongst the books.”

“Well sugar, I suppose you might wanna tell him that.”

“Ay, but that would involve making conversation. Something I also do not have time for because–”

“Because he’s standing over there by the door, talking to our favorite resident detective.” You interrupt with a giggle, prompting the other woman to drop your arm in a flourish before racing off back in the direction of her office before squeaking out “you never saw me” - leaving you alone. 

You allow yourself to stand there for another moment, content with watching the two men talk. While both were easy on the eyes, you were only interested in one of them. Glancing down at your outfit, you once again reassure yourself that you’re looking pretty damned good. 

And then – just that fast – an idea strikes you.

Refusing to overthink what it was you were about to do, you discreetly make your way into the ladies room. After checking to make sure you were alone, you slip into a stall. Reaching underneath your skirt, you slide your lacy black panties down your thighs before stepping out of them. 

Biting your lip, you tuck the small scrap of fabric into your pocket. Once you’re finished, you go to leave. But not before stopping long enough to refresh your lip gloss and fluff your curls. And then you’re out the door.

Hopefully you’d be able to catch the handsome bounty hunter before he left.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to find him. He’s right where you saw him last – near the front of the library still talking to Milton. As you near the two, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll be able to pull this off without making an absolute fool of yourself. 

But first you’d have to find a way to get rid of Officer Milton without making your intentions obvious. And then it hits you. While it might be wrong, it was officially time to pawn him off on your favorite new friend.

Marisol.

“Good afternoon, Officer Milton.” You chirp as you sidle forward, politely interrupting their conversation. “Detective Levinson.” Of course you’re immediately met with smiles from both men. 

“Well get a load a’ you.” Milton gives a playful whistle once he gets a good look at your business attire. “Lookin’ sharp, darlin. Goin’ somewhere special?”

“Actually, I just came from a meeting down at the bank.” You tell them, smoothing your hands along your gray pencil skirt. 

“Ahh.” The officer nods. “Fingers crossed all went well.”

“It did. Thank you.” Delicately clearing your throat, you make a show of glancing around before directing your complete attention to the young officer in front of you. “While I hate to interrupt you two when you’re hard at work, I think Marisol might need you.”

“She does?” The man immediately perks up, vaguely reminding you of your neighbor’s golden retriever. 

“Yep.” You wince inwardly, hating yourself for lying. “Not sure what it’s about, but I think she’s somewhere in the back.” 

Just like that, a switch has been flipped and Officer Milton is off on the hunt for a sweet little librarian who most certainly did not need him. Fingers crossed she would catch the hint and just go with it. 

And now you’re alone with the one man with the power to leave you breathless. You were constantly left tied up in knots around this man. But today it was finally time you turned the tables on this guy. 

“How’s the manhunt going, Detective? Any new leads?”

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss this part of my investigation with you, Miss.” He says, flashing you a rather charming smile. “But if you hear from our guy Martin anytime soon, be sure to give me a call.”

“Of course.” You nod, feeling your cheeks heat. “Well, I’d best be goin’ now.”

“Be safe gettin’ home.” 

“Same to you. Detective.”

And then, without sparing him so much as a warning glance, you discreetly remove your panties from their hiding spot and slip them into the back pocket of his jeans. To his credit, Ari doesn’t move a muscle. Instead he continues to stare straight ahead, his gaze never wavering.  

Head held high, you manage to make it all the way to your car before collapsing in a fit of nervous laughter. While you wished you could’ve seen his face, you know deep down that you were better off running off the way you had.  

Maybe he’d call you tonight and maybe he wouldn’t. But all that mattered is that you’d mustered up enough confidence to make some bold moves this afternoon, which by all accounts made you a bad bitch.

Later That Same Evening…

It’s been hours since you pulled that stunt with Ari, but as luck would have it, you still had yet to hear from him. Not that you were worried or anything. In fact, if you had to choose an emotion, you were more disappointed than anything else.

While you’d long since abandoned your high heels by your front door, you were still wearing the outfit you’d worn to the bank. You’d simply been too excited to go by the shop so you’d decided to remain closed for the day.

Heaving a sigh as you rise from the couch, you’re in the middle of debating whether or not it’s worth trying to cobble together something for dinner when you hear the sound of your doorbell. Confused, you go to reach for your phone, only to frown when you see there’s nothing from the one man you wanted to hear from most.

The bell chimes again, prompting you to get a move on. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’!” You mumble, stretching your arms above your head. Opening the door, you’re treated to the sight of a large man standing on your porch with his hands in his pocket, his official badge prominently displayed on his hip. 

Hello, Detective Ari Levinson. 

“Evening, Miss. Apologies for bothering you so late.” 

“Why hello, Detective. Somethin’ I can help you with?” You do your best to keep your tone light while you wait for him to explain himself.

“Sure hope so. Got a report about someone engaging in some inappropriate behavior.” He informs you, barely concealing his smirk as he leans his big body against the porch railing.

“Is that right?”

“Fraid so.” He nods solemnly. “In fact, I actually found a trail of evidence that led me right here to your front door.”

“I…well, there has to be some mistake.” You protest, your hand flying to your chest. 

“Huh.” Ari sucks on his teeth as he reaches into his pocket to retrieve a small scrap of lacy black fabric. “Then you wouldn’t happen to know who these belong to, would you?”

Your eyes go wide at the sight of your panties dangling from one thick index finger. 

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, but they’re certainly not mine.” You sniff haughtily. “I’ve never seen those before in my life.”

“Now, Miss.” He gently chastises, taking another step towards you, invading your space. “Perhaps I should warn you that it’s a crime to lie to a member of law enforcement.” Instead of responding you simply fold your arms across your heaving bosom. 

The nerve of this man, thinking he had the right to question you like this right out in the open. Honestly, what would your neighbors think? The scandal!

“You know what? I’m thinkin’ I’m gonna need to search the premises.” The bounty hunter moves to enter your home, only to growl when your hand stops him short. “It’s also a felony to impede an official investigation.” Ari grunts, his brow furrowing in annoyance.

“And I'm thinkin’ I'm gonna need to see a warrant first, Detective.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his eyes darken - his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. 

“I’m sure a good girl like you ain’t got nothin’ to hide.” Ari rasps, leaning in so that his mouth now hovers a mere inch above your ear. “Unless…”

“Unless what?” You respond, sounding a little more breathless than you’d like.

“Unless there’s something in there you don’t want me to find?”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” Blowing out a breath you decide to give the man what he wants, if only to see what comes next

“Not sure I believe you, sweetheart.”

“Fine.” You concede. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you come in for a quick look. But you’ve gotta be fast.” You tell him, poking him in the shoulder before turning to lead him into your home. “Because I’m expecting company any minute and we don’t need an audience.”

“We’ll see.”

Your pulse kicks up when you hear Ari shut the door behind you, followed by the quiet snick of the lock. Guess that meant he thought he was staying awhile. Just as you open your mouth to protest, you’re caught off guard when he brushes by you, allowing you to catch a hint of his cologne. 

“I’m not sure what you’re on, Detective.” You say, shooting him your fiercest glare. Meanwhile, this man responds with his most lethal grin. “But I’m giving you five minutes to figure it out before I–” 

“You know, Miss, I didn’t wanna ask you this outside. Especially given the already delicate nature of this investigation. But do you happen to be wearing any panties?”

“Excuse me?!” His question has your mouth falling open, your cheeks burning hot with outrage.

“Answer the question.” His eyes track your every movement as you slowly back away in the direction of the stairs. “Because every good girl I know puts on a pair of panties before leaving the house for the day.”

“Goodnight, Detective Levinson.” You hiss before turning and taking the stairs two by two. “Please see yourself out before I’m forced to call your supervisor.”

Your words are met with silence. And it’s not until you reach the edge of your bedroom that you hear him moving – up the same stairs you’d just scaled only seconds before. You can hardly suppress a shiver as the heady thrum of anticipation courses through you. 

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart.” Ari growls softly as his impressive form fills your doorway, effectively blocking your only exit. “But I’m not through with my investigation.” It’s a struggle to ignore just how good he looks taking up space in your bedroom like this. 

“I want you to leave.”

“Oh, I will. As soon as I’m finished.” He takes a step towards you, rolling up his sleeves as he does. “But first, I’m gonna need you to turn and place your hands on the wall.”

“I–I will do no such thing!” Comes your almost breathless reply. “I’m not a criminal.”

“Hm.” Ari cocks his head, his magnetic blue eyes leering at your much smaller, curvier frame. “But you are a suspect.” In less than a fraction of a second, this man is now standing in front of you. “And it would be rather reckless of me if I didn’t pat you down.” One large hand curls itself around your bicep before gently leading to a nearby wall. “You should know that I’m a bit of a stickler when it comes to following protocol.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you place both of your hands on the cool surface. Taking a deep breath, you can’t help but jump when he kicks your feet apart, forcing you to spread your legs even wider, granting him better access.

“I’m gonna report you.” Unfortunately for you, your flimsy threat does nothing to deter him.

Your eyes fall shut when you feel two large, warm hands glide their way up and down your arms. It feels as tempting as it does comforting. He repeats the action twice more, almost as if he’s trying to lull you into a false sense of security. 

Next, those wandering hands are stroking along your sides, greedily following the path of your curves. And then you feel him bury his nose in the crook of your neck. It’s impossible to miss his soft groan as he inhales your sweet scent.

“Now I’ve gotta ask you, little Bird.” He hums, his sharp teeth nipping at your ear. “Do you have anything on you that could stab, stick, or poke me?” 

“N-no.” 

God, you were so fucking wet right now it’s embarrassing. And you can’t stop the moan that catches in your throat when his sensual ministrations move to your breasts – cupping, massaging, and kneading. He lewdly palms them through your blouse, this thumps paying extra attention to your hardened nipples. Your back arches of its own accord as he continues to play with your body.

And there’s a part of you that hates yourself for the way he makes you respond.  

“Hm. So far so good, baby. Proud of you for keeping your hands where I can see ‘em.” Now his hands are skimming down your hips to toy with the hem of your skirt. His warm breath dances along your sensitive skin, making you shiver. “But now it’s time for the big question.” Ari begins inching your skirt higher and higher. “And don’t you dare lie to me. Are you–”

“This ain’t right, Detective!” You protest, protectively clenching your thighs together. However, your words only make him chuckle. “Pretty sure this is an illegal search and seizure.”

“As a member of law enforcement, I would have to respectfully disagree with you.” He says at the same time as he grinds himself against you, his massive erection pressing into your lower back. “It’s my job to keep the community safe. And to deal with naughty girls who go around handing out their unmentionables to strangers.” Your skirt inches even higher now, stopping just short of revealing your dripping cunt. 

“And what do you know?” He purrs, holding you still as his hand dips between your thighs, cupping your most intimate flesh. “Looks like we’ve got a little liar on our hands. Don’t we?”

“Don’t. We.” The renewed authority in his tone makes your pussy quiver.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And how should we handle liars, sweetheart? Hm?” Your knees go weak when you feel two thick fingers spear their way through your messy folds, lightly strumming over your clit. “What should we do with you?”

“....I…don’t know….”

His deep chuckle has you squirming in his hold, your hips bucking as he continues to grind the heel of his palm against your sensitive nub.  

“Tell you what. You and I are about to have a serious conversation about what happens to pretty young ladies who can’t seem to tell the truth. Even when it’s in their best interest. What do ya say?”

“Y–yes, Sir.” You moan as your eyes threaten to roll back in your head, sparks of pleasure dancing behind your eyes. “Whatever you want – I’ll be so, sooo good!”

Thirty Minutes Later…

“Why the fuck you keep runnin’, baby?” Ari growls, smacking your bottom hard. “Yeah, get that juicy ass back here. Love watchin’ those cheeks bounce.”

The rhythmic sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, spilling out into the hall as Ari drives into you over and over again with his impressive cock. 

He’d been hard for hours before he ever showed up on your doorstep. Frankly, he’d lost count of how many times he’d paused throughout the day to bring your panties to his nose. It was like he couldn’t seem to get enough of how good you smelled. But he also knew that wouldn’t be enough.

He needed to taste you. Needed your unique, earthy flavor on his tongue. 

Thankfully, he had no doubt that he’d have time to eat the fuck out of your sweet pussy later. After he was finished fucking you into oblivion for being such bad girl. Who would’ve guessed his little Bird had it in her to be so deliciously naughty?

Meanwhile, you’re too busy sobbing into a pillow to be proud of yourself right now, your hands fisting the sheets while your man exacts his revenge on your body. At this rate, you’d already cum twice. And here you were already roaring along to orgasm number three. 

Fuck, this man was a goddamned menace!

Your desperate cries grow louder as Ari picks up his pace, forcing you to clench around him as you finally resort to begging.

“Please, Ari!” You wail when he lifts your hips higher before adjusting the angle of his strokes. “I–ooh God–M’so close!”

“Oh yeah?” He snarls, the sound rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. “Then let me see you work for it.” A sharp hiss escapes when his heavy palm comes down on your ass again, this time smacking both cheeks without so much as missing a beat. “This is how bad girls get punished.” You tense when he delivers yet another blow. “They’ve gotta work for their pleasure.”

“I’m sorry–wooh God!” Your voice comes out raw, bordering on hoarse.       

“That’s it, baby. Yeah, there we go.” He gifts you with another slap, earning a sharp yelp from you. “Yeah, throw it back like you love it.”

After an afternoon of being bad, there’s nothing you want more than to be good for this man. You wanted to please him. Make him happy. If only so he never stopped touching you. And you were trying – honest to God, you were.

But it was all too good. Too much. 

“Just know, everytime you run, I’m gonna drag that sweet ass right back.” Ari renews his punishing grip on your hips, holding you up even as your sweat slicked body starts to give out. “Now cum for me one more time so I can finally stop takin’ it easy on you, pretty Bird.”

END

Official Tag List

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[tpwk-formula1]

Biggest Fan - CL16

Requested by @nina-or-anna-or-nora "Heyy!! 💕 I saw you were asking some requests so I have one for an Smau!! (If you want to do it ofc) I was thinking about the reader being kinda like Sabrina or Olivia (a performer) and then Charles being like her biggest fan🤭just a super cute fluffy thing and he goes to every show he can or posts her and stuff🥹"

AN - Had so much fun writing this SMAU for you! Don't be afraid to send in requests that aren't apart of the Pizza Menu! I love Sabrina but I'm not a die hard fan so I have no idea how many outfit changes she has or the order she performs so if it's a little messed up I apologize! Also LMK if you wanna see me do this with more drivers and make it a little series of the drivers being head over heels for their girl friend!

Summary: Just Charles being in love with Y/N... and basically everyone in the F1 community!

Charles insta stories over the fall break

Twitter

Charles instagram

Liked by landonorris, youruser, carlossainz, and 2,090,513 others

charlesleclerc We're ready for you Austin ft. Y/N and all the fan gifted hats that will make an appearance this weekend tagged carlossainz and youruser

user5 I love how he makes a post for work and still finds a way to get Y/N in there

user6 your honor... it's them. It's always them!

youruser I'm ready to be back in my home soil!

user7 I constantly forget our girl is from the US charlesleclerc you mean MY girl user8 Charles will never learn to share charlesleclerc not when it comes to MY Y/N youruser alright calm it down you charlesleclerc yes maam

user9 I hate feeling single but I do love you guys!

carlossainz Will I ever get a post with just us?

user10 Carlos... they're a package deal user11 If I don't expect anything less, you shouldn't either youruser damn... catching strays carlossainz Y/N I thought we were friends!

load more comments

Your insta story

user12 how does it feel to be living my dream

carlossainz he's been smiling at his phone for 10 minutes because you posted him

youruser I love knowing he loves me as much as I love him

user13 his eyes

charlesleclerc that's one lucky man

youruser he really is!

user14 I love the way you guys love each other

landonorris you guys disgust me with how cute you are together

youruser you wish this was you huh? landonorris I miss when you were to shy to interact with us... kinda a meanie youruser you'll learn to survive

Twitter

your Instagram

Liked by charlesleclerc, yourbff, oliviarodrigo, and 3,092,172 others

youruser Thanks for the warm welcome home... see you in a few weeks for Vegas!

Look for a surprise tomorrow around noon YeeHaw time!

charlesleclerc Ooooo I wanna know the surprise

user18 I can't believe I have notifications on and Charles is still here before me

charlesleclerc you snooze you lose! gotta be quicker than that! youruser love you need to be a bit nicer! user18 no this is on me... I should know no matter how much I love you Charles just loves you that much more! user19 I'm sobbing at this! Charles is so unhinged when it comes to Y/N

landonorris Can I also know the surprise

charlesleclerc NO!

user20 YeeHaw time is SENDING me! For anyone confused she's talking about CST

user21 THANK YOU! It makes so much sense now that you've explained but as a non F1 Y/N fan I didn't realize she was in Texas haha

user22 I love their height difference. I forget just how SMALL Y/N is.

Your Insta Story

charlesleclerc I can't wait to watch you!!

user23 HOLY SHIT! I can't fucking wait!

user24 omg! I'm so excited for this!!

landonorris: I hope you have a ticket saved with my name on it!

youruser: I do including the rest of the grid... spread the word pleaseeee

user25: Oh to be in the US rn to experience this concert! I just know it's gonna be amazing

Twitter

Charles Insta story during the show

Max's Insta story during the show

Youruser: Max! hahaha you had me cracking up in the first slide... then tearing up through laughter in the second. Thank you so much for finding time in your title fight to support!

maxverstappen1: I wouldn't have missed it! Had to see what all the hype was about. Please invite me again

Grid Members Stories (Lando, Carlos, Oscar, Yuki, Liam, Franco)

[simp-ly-writes]

How Could You Refuse?

─────── · ·

Pairing: Jayce Talis x Shy!Assistant!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: When assigned as the lab assistant to Jayce, you were first intimidated to work under someone of such genius inventions but the longer you work alongside one another, the more comfortable you feel and the more you feel for Jayce.

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, light angst, fluff, touch as a love language, jealous! and protective!Jayce, reader is mentioned to have hair.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 1,662

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

─ · · A/N: The way in which I hated Jayce so incredibly much to being in love with him in season 2 deserves to be studied. Let me know if you like this!

─────── · ·

─ · · You had been working under Jayce for as long as recent memory could remember. As soon as he got started working his brilliant mind within the Academy, you were assigned to help the genius (and to keep him alive as well)

─ · · At first you were intimidated and worried to work with the man, often staying in your own corner of the room, running over with tools before taking a few too many steps back- allowing him space or not speaking as to not disturb him but the longer you worked together, the more comfortable you felt. Sitting beside him, sharing meals and ideas together, hands brushing against one another when passing tools and diagrams. The jokes you two shared when your minds were foggy and not quite running right as you laughed at anything at all before the cleaners kicked you both out for the night

─ · · Working for Jayce as you both grew and aged meant getting woken up at odd hours of the night and early morning to be a comforting presence and to ensure he remember to drink liquids other than coffee and the caffeinated tea he unsuccessfully tried to "out-smart" you with

─ · · If Jayce was the brain, you were practically an extension of his body, moving around with him, always knowing what tool or paper he would be next. And if he was ranting or trying to summarize his key points before presenting in front of the Professor, you would be standing in front of him, notebook and pen in arms capturing his every thought. And when you would run out of paper, you would simply start writing up and around your arm

─ · · It would be an uncommon sight not to see you covered in Jayce's diagrams, equations, or quotes as you two walked down the halls together arm in arm. At first, you insisted upon walking slightly apart yet Jayce was having none of that, grabbing your arm and parading you down the hall with a large goofy smile as you did your best to hide your face from the on-coming stares as you glared at his shoes. But now you embraced the mutual comfort you both found in your friendship

─ · · One time Viktor decided to come into the laboratory early and was surprised to see you both asleep at the desk, your head resting on Jayce's shoulder as his arm wrapped around your side, cuddling you both together. Opening a window to let the cool morning breeze, out of the corner of his eye Viktor watched as you both came back to your senses. Stumbling away from one another as you patted down your hair and Jayce stretched himself out as your eyes darted all the way around the room, doing your best to not look and met Viktor's curious stare before he too turned around and began working. "coffee, anyone?"

"please," Jayce replies, grabbing your hand gently as you nod, dropping it and turning out of the hall, only catching the start of his next sentence to Viktor.

"I think I haven't been the most truthful..."

─────── · ·

─ · · As Jayce's diagrams became more complex, his position within the Academy rose and with his growing partnership with Viktor as well, all eyes were on these two men you had the pleasure of working alongside and you couldn't help but receive a few curious glances your way as well.

─ · · It was no shocker to anyone seeing your beauty under your ink filled arms and messy hair that you tugged at endlessly while trying to crunch numbers after numbers with a sleepy Jayce leaning on your shoulder, overlooking your work. He would often press a kiss to your hand, forehead, or cheek, praising you as your cheeks heated up before you squeezed his hand in thanks and returned back to your work

─ · · Now that you think about it, you both had been way more physically affectionate to one another in recent moments yet that was only a testimony to your long-term partnership, nothing more, nothing less.

─ · · You had actually received many offers from other brilliant minds and even sponsors asking you to work for them, and you denied every time knowing that your place was working with your boys but that didn't mean Jayce didn't get annoyed to your surprise.

─ · · His eyebrow furrowed as yet another person came forward, trying to charm your pants off and get you to work for them. He trusted in you, trusted in your working friendship but there was always that smaller, inner voice within him that thought otherwise. That you would leave him for something "bigger" and "greater" that pushed him to do his best- to impress you- to get you to stay

─ · · You were worried about just how far Jayce was pushing himself, striving for greatness as you spent an equal time sitting at the desk, often falling asleep at his side no matter how many times he asked you to go to bed. And more often than not, when you would reawaken in the morning, you would fine a simple note from Jayce as he had carried you back to your room.

─ · · When Jayce became a councillor, you were immensely proud, crying the entire duration when one of your collegue's told you before heading back to the lab where Viktor was already tinkering away. Might as well get closer to Viktor now that it'll just be us two from now on, you tell yourself. Sitting near Viktor as you pass him tool after tool, write down his notes, and provide him coffee

─ · · Work carries on as it usually does, the only difference is not seeing Jayce in the last couple of days yet that was to be expected with his promotion. You were happy to work alongside Viktor but more so than you had been in the past. You both shared a love of blunt and dry humour.

─ · · Jayce was confused as to why he hadn't see you yet, you were his assistant, were you not? He thought to himself near the tail end of a council meeting before heading to the laboratory to find you and Viktor asleep at the same desk, ankles intertwined, heads on a blanket of blueprints and sketches.

─ · · In a feeling of deja vu, Jayce opens the window, allowing the cool morning breeze to drift through the room as you both stir away. You blink, eyes and mind hazy as you stare at the broad man standing in front of you, hand resting on the back of your head. "I've missed you," the voice calls out as you hum, you shake Viktor awake as he groans, pushing your hand away before rubbing his eyes. "Jayce... is that you?"

"yes, it is, and this is where you've been the whole time?" Jayce asks, arms crossed like his eyebrows as he stares you down, his stare making you feel small.

"uh, yes. I've been helping Viktor continue his plans for the new gauntlets for the miners..." you trail off, looking over to find the chair beside you empty, your frown noticeable as Jayce gently turns your head back to face him.

"I need you by my side." And how could you refuse? with the puppy dog eyes you received.

─────── · ·

─ · · That very same day, you apologized to Viktor who only shrugged his shoulders, hand shooing you away and back to Jayce as you followed him in his shadow between meetings with the usual notes in your arm and tray of coffee in the other. Jayce huffed, stopping as you walked into his back, "nothing has changed, you still are my dearest friend, you know that?" Jayce looks down at you, expression serious as you nod your head firmly and take a step beside him, feeling as he takes the tray from out of your hand and wraps his arm under your own. "Much better."

─ · · You felt very out of place, standing to his side during council meetings as he would ask for your opinion as if you were back in the lab, except this time, a dozen eyes were watching your every move as you leaned in to whisper into Jayce's ear your answers.

─ · · The same feeling could also be said for the various events you accompanied him to as well. His arm always a staple around your waist or arm as he guided and introduced you to socialite after politician and you were becoming seriously overwhelmed, this was not a part of the original job description, you thought to yourself while freshening up in the washroom, another councillor Mel, joined you soon afterwards

"You and Jayce appear... close" you flush underneath her curious gaze, eyes darting around the mirror to anywhere but her gaze. "Yes... we have... worked together for quite some time now," you explain, picking at the skin near your fingertips.

"Just working partners though?" Mel presses forward, the hint of a smile appearing on her lips as your mind races at a mile a minute, you think of his mouth whispering into your ear, his large hands gripping your waist, his groggy morning voice as you wake him up with a hand on his shoulder as he smiles lazily at you before pressing a kiss to your temple. Your heart races as you shake your head of these thoughts, "we are nothing more than that," you clarify.

"So that means you wouldn't be mad if I tried something?" Mel asks, extending her hand in an equal silent ask as you stare at the gold jewellery running up her arm doing nothing but already compliment her immense beauty, they would look good together. "No, go ahead."

─────── · ·

─ · · SERIES MASTERLIST

[greenwriterplaidbow]

Human Connection

Part I

Logan Howlett x reader with injury related memory loss

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: Inspired by @pandapetals’ memory loss fic (it's taken over all by thoughts since I read it) as well as the song We’ll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross. Sorry in advance, this is probably going to be a series, I was going to make it all one story but it’s already this long and I haven’t gotten to what I wanted to get to.

Warnings: a combination of angst and fluff, suggested feminine reader (called Logan’s wife, she/her used once) but no true descriptions, if you’re an English teacher you’ll hate this because I mix past and present tense verbs. Sorry if it bothers you, it’s my primary grammatical weakness.

The doctor’s words felt monotonous and cold. Logan looked to you. Your eyes trained on the doctor, your blanketed knees pulled up to your chest, your arms loosely held around them. You had been conscious for around 24 hours and he’d hardly seen you. Admittedly at your specific request, ‘your hovering around is making me kinda anxious’ were the exact words. The sting of the words stuck in his mind. The doctor told the two of you the state of your condition, monitoring and treatment outline, and the information needed to fill out the discharge papers. You would walk away mostly fine. You survived the accident, lucky you!

But you didn’t feel lucky. You felt frustrated and unsettled. Maybe even a little scared. You had woken up to a man you’d never seen whispering to you in your sleep, seemingly close to tears. When he noticed you awake he asked you questions you didn’t know the answers to and claimed to be your husband. You had never been married and given the fact that he looked as though he hadn’t showered or slept in days, this was obviously a psych patient who had wandered into your room. But it wasn’t. The doctors could confirm, according to the paperwork and pictures, you were this man’s wife. He’d continued to be around you, he clearly wanted to help in any way he could but you couldn’t handle the way he wouldn’t take his eyes off you.

You had few memories, almost none of them were recent. Not even memories of your own identity were intact. Dissociative amnesia they called it. The staff stressed, to both you and this Logan guy, that your memories needed to come back on their own, he shouldn’t just tell you memories. He was allowed to help fill in details or answer small questions but that’s it. They said the best thing you could do right now would be to go back to your routine. They told him to act normal towards you as much as possible. You didn’t even know what that would look like. It was weird being addressed as a unit. Talked to like he was ‘your other half’ or whatever people say.

“Here is the form. Either of you can fill it out, I’ll just need both of your signatures at the bottom.” The nurse’s words snap you back to reality. You nod and take the form. She checks your levels one last time before leaving you and the man alone in the room. You concentrate on the papers in front of you. You first take the pen off the clip board with your left hand then look at it confused. You stare a moment before shifting it to your right hand, then back to your left before just setting it down again and leaning over the small table as you breathe out slowly.

“You’re right handed.” The man said quietly.

You look over at him. He sits on your left side. His knees are wide apart as he leans his body forward resting his forearms on his thighs with his fingers interlaced. He was watching you struggle with the pen. You nod slowly and pick up the pen with your right hand this time. You adjust your hand to hold it properly. It feels no more comfortable than in your left but you had to start somewhere. Okay first blank, patient name. Easy enough. You write your first name, middle initial, and-

You stop in your tracks. If you’re married, you wouldn’t necessarily have the same last name that you remember. You sit and think for a moment, determined to figure it out but you keep drawing a blank. An owl was the only thing that came to your mind when you thought of your last name. You bit the inside of your cheek before you sighed frustratedly. You put the pen back on the clipboard and slid the small table towards the man.

“Can you do this?” He perked up at your words.

“Yes- of course”

A small smile showed on his face as he took the clipboard, apparently happy to help. He filled in the blanks quickly as if he didn’t even have to think about the answers. Jealousy and shame flowed into your chest. Jealous that this random man knows you better than you know yourself. Shameful because of the pressure you’re already putting on yourself. You’ve always been independent. You like it that way. You like being known as the girl who has a man because she wants one not because she needs something from one. But now, you have no choice but to put your entire trust in someone you don’t know. Trust that he was going to tell you the truth about yourself. Trust he was going to remember what meds you needed and when to take them. Trust he was going to keep you safe both from yourself and someone who might want to take advantage of your current situation. The vulnerability it took to ask for help was already wearing away at your self esteem.

“Think that’s it. I’ll go bring this to the-”

“Wait, can I look at it first” Your hesitation was evident by the little shake in your voice.

“Sure but I promise, I know most of this by heart. And the stuff I didn’t know I got a refresher for when I filled out your admission forms.” He said it, clearly trying to make conversation but it only made you feel worse. You scanned over the form. Your birthday was the only thing you remembered, aside from your name but you didn’t even remember all of that so it didn’t quite feel the same.

“Howlett” You read the name off the sheet. It felt strange to say, even more so to think it now belonged to you.

“Yeah, that’s our last name.” You nodded and handed the form back and buried your head in your knees.

“What’s wrong? Are you starting to feel worse again?” You took a pause before answering him. When you raised your head, his eyes met yours and he could see tears welling up in them.

“I don’t even know my own stupid name- or my dominant hand. I feel so useless.” Logan set the form back on the table and knelt at your bedside.

“Hey, you are not useless. You’re sick right now, don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m here and I’ll help you with anything you need. I promise. I can help fill in what you don’t know”

“Thanks.. I know you’re trying to make me feel better but knowing that you know all this and I don’t, really only makes me feel worse. This guy I don’t even know knows more about me than I do.” You could immediately see the pain on his face from your statement. Another reminder that he was included in the gaps that still needed to be filled in.

“It- It’ll come back to you. You’ll be back to yourself in no time.” He said as he stood up. It sounded like the statement was just as much to comfort him as it was to comfort you.

“I’ll be right back.” You nodded and he left the room with the clipboard.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You changed into the clothes Logan brought you. When you were all set to leave, you were told about your follow up appointment and picked up your meds. The two of you left the hospital and walked to Logan’s truck in the parking lot. He opened the door for you and held out his arm behind you as you climbed in to ensure you wouldn’t fall. You took note of the sweet gesture. Once he got into the drivers side, he slung the backpack that had held your clothes and now held your collection of meds onto the backseat. The drive was silent for a while before you broke the ice.

“I can not believe I married a man who drives a truck.” You half-joked as your fingers played with the wedding ring you still wore.

He smiled a little sadly, both amused at your distaste for truck owners and saddened at the reminder that you didn’t remember the man you married. He swallowed down his sadness to joke with you.

“Yeah? And what kind of man would you marry?” His unexpected response made you blush.

“Well, I don’t know.. Honestly I haven’t given it much thought. I guess I’m just not the marriage type.” Logan laughed quietly.

“Yeah- I guess you’d know that already.”

“No, no. It’s not that. It’s just funny that you think you’re the one who wasn’t marriage material. Normally people think that about me, not you.”

“Don’t be close minded- maybe neither of us are marriage material! Maybe those are the kinds that marry each other. I doubt most of those relationships last long though..” You regretted the words as soon as you realized what you had said.

“I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sure we’re very happy.” You bit your lip and kept your eyes glued to your hands twiddling in your lap.

Logan didn’t know what to say so he opted to say nothing. The sound of the running engine and the wind outside the vehicle were the only sounds between you. Your thoughts were swarming in your mind. You turned your eyes to the window, trying to turn off your brain and just observe the unfamiliar scenery. Trees consumed the road on either side. You saw on the form that you lived in New York in some town you hadn’t heard of.

“So how far into the woods do we live?” You turn back towards him as you said it.

“Close enough to walk into town but far enough that we don’t see our neighbors unless we’re trying to.”

You nodded and made a sound of acknowledgement.

“That’s why you smell like pine?”

“Uh, I guess. Didn’t realize I did. I guess I’m just used to it.”

“That would make sense.” You lost interest in the conversation when you realized you had turned onto a side road. From the side road you went up a driveway.

He wasn’t kidding, if you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t know there was anyone even remotely close. Trees seemed to swallow you whole as you approached the house.

“Look familiar?” He asked tentatively. You studied the outside of the house then the inside as you pulled into the garage. You wanted to say yes but in reality it looked entirely foreign.

“No, sorry.” You answered softly.

“That’s alright, I was just curious.” He tried to keep the longing sadness from his voice. He was not successful. He grabbed the backpack and left the truck. You followed him but your eyes couldn’t help traveling over the room. You stepped inside the house and mirrored Logan as he took off his boots and placed them behind the door.

He watched your movements as you hesitantly followed him. He smiled at the realization that you were almost acting like a puppy dog, eager to take in information and follow instructions but still tentative about both him and the surroundings.

“I should probably show you around,”

“Yes, please.”

It was a split level house. He showed you the basement first. The guest room, storage room, furnace room, a mostly unused living room. He explained small things about each room when necessary. As you headed back up the stairs you felt brave enough to ask more questions.

“So we live alone? Just the two of us?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No pets? No family? No transient friends that feel comfortable enough to invite themselves over when they need a place to stay? Nothing?” Your question made Logan visibly nervous. He now stood across from you as you stood at the top of the steps.

“Uh, no. Not really. Why?” His confusion was mixing with anxiety.

“No reason.”

“..Are you uncomfortable staying alone with me?” His expression looked sad but understanding.

“Oh no, not that. Well a little. But no, that’s not why I asked.” He was silent waiting for you to explain, which you did when the silence became too uncomfortable. You forced your eyes to stay on his when you finally spoke.

“I’m just worried about you. You’re dealing with a lot, you should be with other people. People who care about you and know how to take your mind off everything. I just don’t want you to burn yourself out trying to do all this alone.” Your words hit him like a train. You were the one who was sick and you still worried about him, even when he was a complete stranger to you. He looked like he could cry. He took a half step towards you before stopping himself,

“Can I hug you?”

You nodded as you took a step closer to him, embracing him. His large arms engulfed your shoulders. He held you close like you might spontaneously vanish if he didn’t anchor you to himself. Your arms came around to his upper back where you rubbed his back lightly, trying to comfort him. When your nails softly scratched against his shirt, his face nuzzled deeper into your neck. You couldn’t tell if he was crying or not. Not that you cared either way, you understood. You couldn’t even imagine what he was feeling. This large, strange, kind man had completely bent himself over backwards just to take care of you. The least you could do is try and comfort him. The two of you stood there for longer than either of you thought you would. He gave you one final squeeze before parting. He kept his hands on your shoulders for a second as he looked at you. He sniffed as he looked away and took a few steps back.

“Sorry.” His breathing was unsteady.

“Don’t be.” You shrugged. “You’re allowed to be sad. You’re kind of grieving, in a way.” Your words were meant to be comforting as much as forcing him to face the reality of the situation.

“Don’t say that, you’re going to remember. It just takes time.” There was a desperation in his voice. Like he was trying to convince you both.

“I know. I’m not saying I won’t. But right now, you’re living with someone who doesn’t know you.. The woman you know, the woman you love, is as good as dead. As of right now anyways.” He studied your face as you said it and nodded after you’d finished speaking. He bridged the gap between the two of you once more to press a kiss onto your forehead. He sighed but didn’t pull away from you when he spoke.

“Let me finish showing you around.” He whispered the words warmly against your skin.

“Okay.” You whispered in return.

As promised, he showed you the living room, kitchen, and dining area; all close together at the top of the steps. Down the hall there was a bathroom, an office, and finally your shared bedroom. He lets you walk into the room, he crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. You cautiously walked around the room, taking everything in. The walls were a calm green that paired well with the browns and yellows of most other things in the room. On the nightstand closest to the door there was an assortment of crystals, papers, wire wrapped shells, chapstick, handwritten notes, bracelets sitting inside a teacup, a clock, and a pair of glasses. You turned back to Logan.

“This is my side of the bed?” He nodded. You opened the drawers of your nightstand. Books, sleeping meds, pen and paper, nothing of interest upon first glance. You walked over to the other side, glancing back at Logan, searching his face for permission to poke around. You couldn’t read his expression.

“Mind if I snoop?”

“Go ahead. It’s all stuff you’ve seen before.”

You tried to turn your full attention to his nightstand but you could see him move out of the corner of your eye. He entered what you assumed was the closet, which was currently behind you. Back to trying to learn about Logan through how he kept his things. His nightstand was less cluttered than yours. There was a notepad and pen, reading glasses, a clock matching yours, and three pictures of you. One was in a frame, one was a polaroid, and the last one was printed out, you’d guess from a digital camera. All pictures were in places you didn’t remember with people you didn’t recognize. You looked happy. The picture in a frame was from your wedding. Logan and you were all dressed up, looking at each other. Although it was clear the two of you were posing, your smiles seemed genuine. The other two were candids, laughing with friends in one while in the other your face held a look of recognition like someone took the photo right as you saw the camera. You were happy or relieved to see whoever was holding the camera. You guessed Logan himself based on your relationship and where you found the photo.

“Sorry,” He moved past you and set his phone on his nightstand.

“I’m going to go shower. You’re welcome to as well, I’ll shower downstairs so if you want to, the option is there. Or wait until later, I just don’t want to smell like the hospital anymore”

“Yeah I will probably take you up on that, where do I keep my clothes?”

He directed you to where you keep your pajamas as well as showing you to your half of the closet, pointing out where you keep underwear and socks.

“Let me know if you need anything.” You nodded and thanked him. He went downstairs. You felt like looking around some more. A bin of stuffed animals under your side of the bed. Saw the books on the shelves in the office. Check out the cupboards, familiarize yourself with where things belong. Out the kitchen window, the woods catch your eye. You feel a sudden urge to go walking in the wet grass. You look towards the lower level then back at the back door. You’d surely be back before he was out of the shower. You just needed to indulge this feeling. Then you’d come right back. It’s midday, it’s not like it is dangerous at this hour.

You step out onto the patio. You walked in the directions you felt pulled in. Following some imaginary trail, bare feet sinking into the puddles in the grass. It had been an especially wet April and the heavy clouds overhead suggested tonight would follow the trend. You found a hammock in a small clearing not far from the house. You sat upright on it, like a swing. You crossed your ankles and leaned forward, palms placed beside your knees, pressing onto the fabric beneath you. The silence felt comfortable. You relaxed more than you had been in recent days. The silence allowed your mind to wander through your thoughts just as you had through the trees. The calm around you soon contrasted with the spiraling thoughts that took over your mind. It didn't feel like you had forgotten anything but logically, you knew years had passed since the last things you remember. Logically you knew Logan had to know you intimately and clearly cared deeply for you but, you didn't know how to make yourself return his feelings. There was guilt in not being who you were apparently supposed to be. You hated the pained look in his eyes he when stared at you. The hot tears that rolled down your face contrasted with the cool air around you. Your face hung down and your eyes traced the ground through blurred vision. You felt like you had been sitting here for hours. Your thoughts drowned out the once comfortable silence and along with it, Logan's panicked voice in the distance. He stumbled into the clearing.

"Jesus-” He huffed, catching his breath. “Don't run off like that. What the hell are you doing out here? How did you know where this was? Did you remember something?"

His rapid fire questions and loud voice were overwhelming.

"N-no, I don't know. I just felt like this is where I should go. I didn't mean to worry you- please don't yell at me" your plea took him by surprise as he realized his worry made him louder than he intended. He took a quick step towards you and you unconsciously flinched. He took care to make the last steps toward you slower before he crouched down so he was looking up at you. There was a gentleness that now replaced the panic in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.. I didn't know where you were or what happened. I just- you're not yourself right now, even if you had your memories, you still have a brain injury. I just don't want you to get lost. At least if you're going to go exploring, leave a note?"

You nodded and wiped away tears from your face.

"Do you want me to leave you alone out here for a while?"

"No, I'll come in with you.. I really don't know why I came out here, it just felt like I should. I don't know why." You still tried to explain yourself as you got up from your spot. Logan stood up and started leading towards the house.

"Maybe subconsciously you remember coming out here."

"Maybe.. I don't know why I would. It's not exactly nice out."

"You didn't just go when it was nice, you like being out there when you feel upset. Sometimes if we have a fight you'll go sit out there for a while. Sometimes you're upset with someone else and you drag me out there with you and tell me about it. You just don't like bringing that stuff home."

"Oh. Am I out there a lot?"

"No, not really. Sometimes you have a bad week and you'll be out a few days in a row but that's not very common. Just once in a blue moon, as you'd say." He smiles at the memory as he opens the door for you. You step in and dry your feet on the mat. He takes off his shoes and carries them to the front door. As he walked off you noticed his hair was wet and a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants had replaced his flannel and jeans from the hospital. You could really see how muscular he was through his shirt that hugged him tighter than the flannel did.

“You look better than you did at the hospital.”

“Hm? Oh, thanks.”

“Don't get me wrong you pull off the disheveled look but now you look better, like people wouldn't worry about you if they saw you like this.”

“Not sure that's the compliment you think it is.” He smiled as he said it.

“I'm aware. Still felt like you should hear it.”

“Whatever you say. Do you still want to shower now or do you want to wait until later tonight?”

“No, I'll just get in now.”

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You leaned your face towards the bottle of the more feminine looking soap, assuming it was yours, trying to use it as an olfactory trigger. It didn’t work. You got out of the shower and dried your hair in front of the mirror and something caught your eye. Your skin carried stories in the form of deep scars that decorated your body. Old bullet wounds and healed cuts lied among the new gashes and scratches from your accident. You ran your hands over some of the small lines of scar tissue, unsure if you wanted to know the stories they had to tell. You rewrapped your bandages. The bandages and cuts from your accident made you glad to have such baggy pajamas.

You left the bathroom after getting dressed and found Logan laying on your side of the bed, staring at the ceiling. He sat up when you came into the room, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Oh, hey- Sorry I know this is your side, I just-” He stumbled over his words while trying to justify his actions but you cut him off.

“You don’t need to explain, it’s alright.” You gave him a small, tight-lipped smile. The kind you’d give a stranger who held a door for you.

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You spend the rest of the evening on the couch, doodling next to Logan as he reads some papers. Neither of you spoke. Eventually it came time for you to go to bed, forcing the two of you into conversation.

“I can sleep in the guest room, if you’d be more comfortable that way.” He offered as he walked you to the bedroom.

“That’s all the way downstairs, right?” You looked up at him as you sat on the bed.

“Yes.”

“Then no..” You paused after saying it.

“I can stay up here on the couch if you want me to be closer. Whatever you want.”

You shook your head adamantly. “Not whatever I want, I’m not going to kick you out of your own bed.”

“Baby, I would be happy as a clam at high tide just sleeping on the floor at the foot of our bed.” The way the pet name so easily left his lips made you blush.

“W-well- you can be just as happy sleeping in your own bed.” He sighed in defeat before nodding.

“Alright. I can do that.” He shut the door behind him as he walked into the room.

“Given your apprehension to stay in the same bed, I assume it goes without saying but, I still don’t know you.. For you, you’re sleeping next to your wife but for me, I’m sleeping next to this man I met yesterday.. I just..” You trailed off.

“I’ll stay on my side of the bed, no problem.” He finished your thought casually.

“Thanks..”

“Of course, I just want you to feel comfortable and safe in your own home.”

“That.. means a lot. Thank you Logan.” He nodded before shutting off the lamp on his side of the bed.

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It wasn’t a particularly cold night but you still felt a chill creep over your skin under the blankets. To your memory, you had slept alone most nights so this was what you were used to. So why did you feel more alone than ever with Logan less than a foot away? You could feel the heat ghosting off his skin even from where you laid. The loneliness sank into your chest making you feel colder than you actually were. You mentally fought yourself, it was only a few hours ago that you were telling him not to touch you and now you were considering asking him to put his arm around you? Talk about mixed messages. What if he was the type of guy to take approval to cross one boundary as approval to do whatever he wanted? What if he thought this meant you had your memories again? What if-

Your thoughts were cut off by the sound of Logan sighing quietly as he rolled over and shifted to get comfortable. He was awake. If you were going to ask, now would be the best time, right? You gathered your courage before you spoke.

“Logan?” You asked barely at a whisper.

“Hm?” His sleepy reply made you feel guilty for bothering him.

“Could you- .. I mean if you wanted to you could- you don’t have to but.. Um. Would you put your arm around me?”

“You want me to hold you?”

“I mean.. Only if you want to. I just- It’s cold over here and I can feel the heat coming off of you and I- .. I just feel so lonely for some reason.” Your voice dropped even quieter as you ended your statement.

“Yes, of course I will. Tell me if I do anything you don’t like; you’re allowed to push me back over to my side, alright?” You nodded as he pulled you into his broad chest. He felt warm and comforting. He kept his hand innocently at your abdomen. The two of you both slept the best you had all week. Tangled together like lovers.

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Author's second note! Thank you for reading my first true fanfiction that's been put on Beyoncé's public internet for anyone to judge. Speaking of judging I'm very open to feedback if you have any.

I want to have the next part up soon but tragically, I have two big projects coming up not to mention finals week. College is eating me alive so we'll see when I string enough coherent sentences together the next part.

PS I'm still trying to figure out pictures so that's why these three at at the bottom. If I figure it out, I'll add them at the top but uhhh we'll see

I FIGURED IT OUT LETS GOO

[youreverydayfangirl]

THIS IS WHY WE CANT HAVE NICE THINGS

pairing: max verstappen x singer reader

summary: the one in the wake of reputation, people begin to forget and a new story is written

warning: ill come back to it (i didn't but theirs nothing just vague mentions of past mental health issues and online hate)

a/n: only one more part :(

face claim: sabrina carpenter

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The atmosphere of the set was buzzing with energy, y/n sitting in the directors set as she watched the chaos in front of her unfold. Her makeup artist was adding the final bits of eyeshadow to her smokey eye as y/n rewatched some old takes of a scene. Max watched, slightly awkwardly, from the side, a soft smile on his face, his reflection expressing awe.

From the corner of her eye Y/n could see him staring at her and turned to face him with a playful smirk, "How do I look?"

"Like your about to break the internet." Max said, a little smirk on his face though his eyes shone with pride.

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "You say that every time."

"Because it’s true every time," Max shot back, his grin widening.

As she went to get up Max kissed her shoulder quickly before letting her get to work. She laughed slightly at the simple display of affection before whispering in his ear, "You're my good luck charm, Verstappen." He watched as she ran off, intensely aware of the box that sat heavily in his pocket.

"Just don't forget me when you're topping the charts Schatje."

Before the cameras started rolling Y/n made eye contact with Max from the set, mouthing an I love you.

(this was set before they got engaged just an fyi)

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Y/n felt very secure, hidden away in her trailer which was only illuminated by the soft glow of fairly lights strung along the edges of her mirror. She lay on the couch going through her storyboard, Max on top of her, weight heavy. His head rested on her chest as his hand absentmindedly played with the hem of her top, occasionally pressing kissing against her stomach.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your cameo, Mr. Superstar?” she teased, glancing down at him with a playful smirk.

Max grinned up at her, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous sparkle. “I am ready. My job is just to stand there and look good, right?”

“Pretty much,” Y/n quipped, running her fingers gently through his hair. “And don’t forget to smolder. That’s very important.”

Max chuckled, closing his eyes as he leaned into her touch. “I’ll smolder for you and only you, liefde.”

The door to the trailer creaked open, and y/ns assistant peeked in. “Y/n, five minutes to set.”

“Got it,” she replied, her fingers pausing briefly in Max’s hair. The PA disappeared, leaving them in their little bubble of quiet.

“You’re gonna kill it,” Max murmured, his voice soft but sure. He sat up, leaning forward to cup her face with both hands. “Every time I see you work, I fall for you all over again.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, and she let out a small laugh. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he replied, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. “Now go show everyone why you’re the star.”

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-> y/nsprivate KIDDING AND I LOVE AND THANK YOU AND I LOVE YOU

-> y/nsfuturehusband CALL ME RN PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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The soft hum of the TV filled the quiet apartment, but Y/n wasn’t really watching. She sat curled up on the couch, knees drawn to her chest, her fingers absentmindedly tugging at the loose threads of her hoodie. Her eyes were fixed on nothing in particular as her mind raced with negative thoughts and memories she wished she could forget.

Max walked in from the kitchen, holding two mugs of tea. His smile faded the second he noticed her expression. Setting the mugs down on the coffee table, he knelt in front of her, his hands gently covering hers to still their nervous movements.

“Liefde,” he said softly, his voice laced with concern, “what’s going on?”

She shook her head, biting her lip as tears welled up in her eyes. “I don’t even know how to explain it,” she whispered.

Max’s heart ached at the sight of her like this. He slid onto the couch beside her, wrapping his arms around her tightly, as if he could shield her from the ghosts of her past. “You don’t have to explain it,” he murmured. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me be here for you.”

Y/n let out a shaky breath as she buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. “I hate feeling like this,” she admitted, her voice muffled. “Like I’m broken or something.”

“You’re not broken,” Max said firmly, pulling back just enough to tilt her chin up so she’d look at him. His blue eyes were filled with unwavering determination. “You’re strong, Y/n. Stronger than you know. What you’ve been through doesn’t define you. You’ve come so far, and I’m so proud of you for that.”

A small sob escaped her, and Max wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “And when it feels too heavy,” he continued softly, “lean on me. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself. We’re a team, remember?”

She nodded, her grip on him tightening. “Thank you, Max. For always being here.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, resting his cheek against her hair. “Always, liefde. You’re stuck with me.” He whispered softly, playing with the ring on her finger.

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a/n

MERRY CHRISTMAS I HOPE YOU ALL GOT SPOILT

ALSO PRAYING FOR MY SWIFTIES IN MOURNING THIS IS FOR YOU

Hey everyone, I just wanted to pop on her and say thank you for all of the support you guys have given me since I first posted this fic. As a writer it is something that's very difficult and vulnerable to put your work out their and for this series to receive as much positive attention as it has gotten is nothing short of remarkable. Sorry for how long its taken for me to get this part out but i've just been struggling with the motivation to write it more or less cause I haven't wanted this series to end but it needs to one way or another. This part marks the official end of the series although I still will write and publish thank you aimee at some point as a bonus chapter since it doesn't really fit into the main post category. I will also at some point post the insta and other snippets that I came up with that just couldn't fit into the main story line of this series. Its sad that this is over but their will be many more things to come. As a bonus note part of the reason why I haven't been super active is i've been working on my book (wrote 10K+ words last week) which i'm super excited about. Also (again IK) the first part of my charles series should be up tomorrow so check that one out if you want :). I've kind of made the decision that this series and the charles series (with a short lando series in the future) exist in the same universe so i can keep max and y/ns story existing in that one aswell (purely because i can't let this series go). The first part of the charles series will be up tomorrow so check that one out if you want. I love you all so much and will miss this series so much :(.

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[thyme-in-a-bubble]

night out

a/n: we back babyyy!!! i haven't been able to stop thinking about these two for fucking months, so i wrote both this aaaaand another part to wrap up their story and get it out of my system.

summary: “I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader x ex!peter parker, light smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, bffs kate bishop and yelena belova, french rave, dancing, kissing, over-the-clothes fun, foreplay, references to public sex, choking, manhandling, jealousness, possessiveness, angst, arguments, brat mode activated (though its totally justified), these hoes are not dealing with their emotions in a healthy way but it's just for the sake of yummy drama

word count: 1993

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“I thought we were just going to a cute little wine bar, not a fucking rave,” you yelled over the music as your friends dragged you further into the warehouse. 

“Oh, come on, babe,” Yelena boomed, slinking her arm around both yours and Kate's neck, “don’t be a chicken now.”

“Yeah,” your brunette friend on the other side of Yelena tilted her frame to catch your apprehensive eye, “you already sneaked out, so you might as well make it count.” 

“I hate it when you’re right,” you groaned, your gaze narrowed to a squint as you got used to the warm flashing lights that dully illuminated the club. 

“Then you must always hate me,” a smug smirk spread across her features before the trio of you ventured further into the crowded space. 

As the night faded away, you found yourselves bathing in the strobes of neon light as your bodies moved on their own accord, like you were all part of a hive, buzzing together in harmony.

But then when you tapped both of your dancing friends on their shoulders and ushered their ears to lean in close to your lips, you told them, “I’m gonna go get some water,” receiving two thumbs up before you made your way through the crowd to the curved bar in the corner. 

However, after the bartender handed you a plastic bottle and you tilted your head back to take a much-needed sip, a familiar voice found your ears from across the bar. 

“As I live and fucking breathe,” you tipped the bottle back down and glanced down the way at the unexpected figure moseying closer to where you stood. 

“Peter!” a surprised smile couldn’t help but spread across your features, “what are you doing here?” 

Settling in beside you, he said, “it’s a Saturday night, where else would I be?”

“No, I mean, what are you doing in Paris?” 

“Oh, what, am I not allowed to be in your city anymore since the breakup?” he joked.

“No, of course, you can be here.” 

Leaning in even closer so that he didn’t have to yell as loud, he asked, “so how are you doing?”

“Me? I’m good, yeah,” your head bobbed in a nod, “how about you?”

“Can’t complain,” his gaze washed over you as if no time had passed at all, “so… can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you shifted the water bottle to your other hand. 

“You seeing anyone?” 

“Oh, wow,” you half coughed, “Peter Parker, king of subtlety.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen you naked more times than I can count, so I figured subtlety went out the window a long time ago,” he smirked, “so, are you?”

“I–, uhm…” your eyes averted a moment as you uttered, “no.” 

You weren’t, it was true. Though the reason for why you’d sneaked out in the first place did have to do with a matter of the heart. 

You’d asked your friends what their advice would be if you hypothetically needed to get over someone. They both of course assumed that you were referring to the man standing before you in the disco and not the person who watched you like a hawk every minute of every day. The method they had suggested wasn’t a sound one, though one that still found you desperate enough to try. 

To go out, meet someone else and bang the dude out of your system. 

“Can I ask you something else?” Peter asked again, ripping you out of your thoughts, away from your bodyguard and back in the moment. As you offered him a nod, he smiled brightly, “you wanna dance?”

And that’s how you found yourself in the middle of a crowded dancefloor, plastered against your ex.

It didn’t take long before your lips reunited as well, staying locked as you both let your hands wander, though for you it wasn’t entirely in the spirit of rekindling something that you’d missed, and more to help you forget about the person who you truly wished to lose yourself on a dancefloor with. 

“Fuck,” you heard Peter groan in your ear and his desperation poked your lower abdomen for the attention you used to give it, “you wanna go slip into the bathroom?”

“Uhh,” you giggled as his lips tickled the side of your neck, “what kinda woman do you take me to be?”

“Mine,” he smiled, “that’s who. I know you. A club bathroom is nothing… remember Amsterdam?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” your body tingled at the thought. 

“That’s also an option, if that’s the kind of mood you're in,” he winked. 

Chuckling as he squeezed your tit, you shook your head lightly, “I’m not fucking you here on the dancefloor.” 

“Oh, come on, it–”

But the rest of your ex’s sentence was cut short as a figure forced itself between you two and pried you apart.  

Instinctively reaching out for Peter as he was forcefully pushed back, your arm then faltered as you blinked up to discover who had shoved him. 

“Barnes,” a shiver ran down your spine at the stormy expression plastered all over his face, a side of him you’d never witnessed before, “I–”

But he cut you off, only to bark, “out, now.”

“But I–”

“Do you wanna walk on your own or should I just toss you over my shoulder?” he glared down at you just before you watched Peter’s hand plant itself on Bucky’s broad shoulder. 

“Hey, dude, don’t touch her, back off,” your ex tried to square up to the intimidating guard dog. 

“No, no, Peter, it’s alright,” you rushed to explain, knowing full well that your bodyguard could and would put him in the hospital, “he’s–…” your eyes briefly flickered up to Bucky’s steely blue eyes, still directed at you, “he’s my bodyguard,” before you let your touch graze Peter’s forearm, “I’m so sorry, it was great seeing you again, but I have to go.” 

Getting dragged out of the club like a perp from a crime scene was not the way you’d imagined your night would wrap up. 

After he’d virtually tossed you in the back and slammed the car door shut behind you, you fished out your phone and swiftly sent your friends an explanatory text while you half-watched Bucky march around the vehicle to the driver’s side. 

The silent treatment he then served you nearly felt worse than the heated words you imagined tumbled around in his head as he fumed, his knuckles nearly turned white from how fiercely he was gripping onto the steering wheel. 

But when you finally mustered the courage to break the eerie silence, your words came out just above a whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are you?” his eyes snapped up to find yours in the review mirror, “really? Because I don’t fucking buy it.” 

“Well, I am!” you threw up your arms, “what do you want me to do?” 

“Not sneak out like a fucking teenager to get drunk with your little boyfriend,” 

“I’m not drunk and he’s not my boyfriend!” 

Not taking any of your words to heart, Bucky went on, “you know how stupid this was, right? What if something had happened, huh? I know you didn’t personally read the threats you got back when I first got this job, but trust me when I tell you that if any of those fuckers had gotten their hands on you tonight, you’d be lucky if you were still breathing when the sun rose. This is exactly the sort of reckless behaviour that caused you to need my help in the first place.”

Your mouth then fell open, utterly stunned at his audacity, “oh my god… you’re unbelievable…” you uttered breathlessly before hazily commanding, “stop the car…”

“No–”

“Stop the fucking car!” you roared, casting your gaze to him once more till you felt his foot step on the break. 

As the car screeched to a stop, you wasted no time ripping the door open and storming out. 

Though you didn’t dare to look back, you still heard him exit the vehicle as well and shadow you as you wandered a few paces away, just far enough for you to be able to get some air. 

“Y/n,” you heard him from just a few meters behind you, “get back in the car–”

But you didn’t shift your feet as you then interrupted, back still turned to him.

“I can’t believe you’re fucking jealous right now…”

“What?”

“Well aren’t you?” you heatedly twisted around to face him, “because it sure fucking looks like it. Getting all fucking possessive, ripping me away from my ex before I can crawl my way back to him, before I get the chance to feel anyone inside of me but you–”

“Stop–”

“Is that it? You just want me all to yourself?” you kept on poking, too blind by your fury to consider the consequences, “you want it to be you that I’m so in love with that I’d make you personalised porn, which would consequently ruin my life and cause me to have a babysitter essentially stalking me.”

“Stop!” he took a step closer as he barked.

“Unless you’ve already seen the tape,” your feet shifted back, keeping him at a distance, “fantasising that it’s for you, getting yourself off to the image of me bouncing on that pretty pink dildo–”

Your sentence then crumbled into a shrivelled yelp as you felt his cold metal hand seize your neck and push you the last few inches up against the brick wall behind you. 

His fingers didn’t squeeze you in the slightest, though you still knew just how easy it would have been for him to tighten his grip and turn it into more than just a raging warning. 

“You done?” he spat as his eyes pieced directly into your soul, “or do you wanna give me more reasons why you’re nothing more than a spoiled little brat, why I should just quit now and not have to deal anymore with what a fucking pain you are in my ass?”

For the life of you, no attempts at offering him an answer were successful on your lips. 

He scared you. 

He’d never scared you before. 

Both because of the explosion you’d undoubtedly made even worse than it had to be, but also his fleeting threat of leaving you for good. 

It all terrified you… 

Though, there was also a different sensation that it awoke within you, one that caused your eyes to flutter down towards his lips, an action that your bodyguard surprisingly mirrored as well as your heated breaths synced up. 

You had no idea who moved first, if it was you or him, but the next thing you knew, you were kissing him.

With adrenaline still pumping in your veins, you clawed at his broad frame as you let your tongue flicker out and flutter against his own. The steely hand that had locked itself around your neck softened and whisked down your form, mirroring your own starving touch as he securely held you like you were about to fall. 

However, just as your palm slid down to find the bulge in his pants, rubbing it needily before your fingers tried to seize the short zipper, Bucky took a large step back, snapping to his senses and creating a wide distance between him and your melted form against the brick. 

His eyes refused to meet your foggy ones as he held them to the ground, slowly catching his breath before uttering, “get in the car,” defeat shining through in his low tone.

“Bucky–,” you tried, but without success as he then cut you off. 

“Please, just–…” his gaze fluttered shut a moment as you then heard him sombrely promise, “look, I’ll make sure your mom doesn’t hear word of what happened tonight. If we go now, then we’ll arrive before any of the staff wakes up, no one will notice.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 1

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something into nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

Warnings: Lando is a dick in this. Small mention of not eating/losing weight but it's not discussed at length. angst. all. the. angst. Pairing: Max Verstappen x LeClercSister!Reader Word Count: 4.4k

(Also big giant huge thank you to @nitaekook for beta reading/editing/hyping this up and convincing me it was ready to be posted! ❤️❤️)

Master List

Falling out of love is exhausting. The way the silent negligence slowly chips away at the glossy veneer of gold plated faux happiness was soul crushingly agonizing. It wasn’t ever loud or raw or angry. No. It never spared you any emotion other than cool indifference. You could never quite figure out why the boy who had once warmed your entire life with his sunshine now refused to even glance your way. 

It started slowly. So slowly that it took you a while to even realize what was happening. The way you lingered a little longer at the end of the day in the art studio. The way you stopped in front of the window of a real estate office, staring longingly at the listings of the pretty apartments that weren’t yours. The way you slowly slipped out of his life in a way that neither of you saw coming. 

Everything changed the day you ran into your brother in a part of town neither of you usually frequent. Neither of you were supposed to be there that day, all the way across town from where you belonged. 

After a third day in a row of being left on read and not even getting a phone call from Lando, despite him spending all night on Max Fewtrell’s stream playing Tarkov, you had gotten sick of waiting around the apartment. You were tired of waiting for just the littles crumb of attention from him, which he only seemed to give to you the moment you strayed a bit too far from him. You finally worked up the courage to leave your phone at home and go out without it, knowing that if he called and you didn’t answer you’d probably go another three days without so much as a text, just because he could. At this point though, you weren’t sure you even cared. 

You changed into your favorite workout set and took a selfie before posting it to your stories (so he knew what you were doing. Lando loved watching your stories to make sure you were where you told him you were) and walked out the door. 

The silence washed over you as you began your run, a sense of freedom coupled with a bit of anxiety settling in your bones as you turned down the street where your apartment was. You ran, leaving all of the stress of your three year relationship behind, without really knowing where you were going or what you would do when you were done. Part of you hoped Lando called you while you were out so he knew that you were flexing your wings a bit without him but you knew that would come with consequences. He’d ignore you, a punishment that he knew you hated but it was almost worth it. The potential punishment from him was almost worth knowing that you’d scare him into action. 

Mile after mile, your sneakers hit the pavement at a steady pace, the rhythmic sound soothing your anxiety like a weighted blanket. Around you, the city buzzed with cars and people rushing around during the summer busy season. Expensive cars zipped by and tourists wandered down the sidewalks, sometimes making passing them difficult but you were used to the crowds of Monaco. You had grown up running these streets, first with your brother Charles and twin Arthur, trying to keep up with them as they trained for their respective racing seasons, but as you got older and Charles moved into the higher Formula series, your runs with him became fewer and far between until it was a rare occasion that you got the chance to train with him. Arthur was still regularly around, but you didn’t like training with him as much and he tended to be a little too chatty while working out where you preferred the silence of your thoughts.

You see your brother exit the apartment building ahead of you before he notices you heading towards him. His dark waves that match yours teased by the Mediterranean breeze as he turns around to speak to the man who follows him out of the building. Charles is everything a big brother should be and it kills you how much you have to lie to him about your relationship with Lando. 

You slow down to a light jog as you approach, waiting patiently for Charles to notice you. When he does though, his entire face lights up. “Little Dove! What are you doing on this side of town?”

Something deep in your chest twists at the nickname Charles has called you your entire life. There’s something nostalgic about it, the way he calls you his little dove, the LeClerc Princess in a house full of boys, fluttering around like a little bird preening under the attention of the birds of prey. 

He reaches for you, pulling you into a tight hug. You’ve been too busy lately, trying desperately to keep the weight of your failing relationship out of the harsh light of the public eye so you haven’t seen your brother as much as you’d like.

Falling out of love is exhausting.

Charles has noticed, of course. You’ve stopped coming to races like you used to when you were freshly with Lando or even when he was new in Formula One. You used to love races. The people, the sounds of the engines roaring around the track, seeing your brother do what he loves at the pinnacle of his sport. You used to drink it all in, obsessed with anything and everything racing. But then the world had tarnished when Lando started choosing racing over you. It was subtle at first, the way he would spend an extra night in Woking to spend time on the sim instead of coming home to your shared apartment. He’d go on trips with Max F, Keegan, and Ed but an invite was never extended to you. Even when he was home, he was always half there. Expecting you to wait around for when he was finally finished streaming. ‘But baby, it’s all work! I’m training for the season. And Max needs my help with the stream! The trips are for Quadrant!’ Excuses were always at the ready with Lando. So much so that you had stopped asking to be a priority. 

When he was with you though it was different. When he finally got around to paying attention to you, he was the doting, loving Lando you had fallen for. He’d bring you breakfast in bed, cuddle with you late at night watching movies, surprising you with a last minute trip to somewhere tropical. Although, if you were being honest with yourself, these little surges of attention always came after a fight or an extended period of time that he had spent away from you. Almost like he was trying to sooth the guilt within himself instead of spending time with you. 

Charles lets you out of his arms, looking down at you with sadness and hesitation in his gaze. 

“I just needed to go for a run.” You say, avoiding the pointed look that Charles fixes on you. You didn’t really want to delve into the real reason for needing to get out of your own head with your brother’s real estate agent standing right next to him. It was only then when you realized just how far you’d come, the tall residential buildings unfamiliar at first glance. You hadn’t been on this side of town in ages but the complex that Charles had just come out of was instantly recognizable. 

Your eyes flick over to the man standing beside Charles. You knew him well, a family friend who had helped Charles and Alex find their current apartment as well as the villa they had bought in Italy last year. “I could ask you the same thing. Are you and Alex planning on moving?” 

“Not exactly.” Charles grins, momentarily willing to move on from the fact that you looked like you were ten seconds away from crying. 

You tilt your head at him, waiting for an explanation. 

“Units in this building rarely ever come on the market and Nick is trying to convince me it would be a good investment.” 

“We’re lucky we even managed to get a showing.” Nick interjects as he runs a hand through his hair. “This building is beyond exclusive.” 

You laugh, light and airy, while rolling your eyes. “Charles? The Prince of Monaco? Lucky to get a showing?”  Mock shock colors your voice and for a flicker of a second, you feel normal again. “Nicholas, I’m surprised at you. Cha could bat those eyelashes of his at anyone in town and get whatever he asked for and you know it.” 

Charles blushes but both of them know it’s true. Charles could ask for anything in this city and get it handed to him on a silver platter. More so now, after winning Monaco last year, finally breaking his home race curse. 

He turns towards his friend. “Let them know I’m interested in making an offer, oui?” 

Nick’s eyes light up and you can practically see the dollar signs spinning around in his head, no doubt trying to calculate the amount of commission he’d potentially earn from even the smallest unit in the building. “I’ll head back to the office and get the offer drawn up right now. Want to go in at asking?” 

Charles nods, “That’s fine. I want to make sure I don’t miss out on this unit.” He eyes you then, suddenly coming up with an idea that might just solve a problem he’s been dealing with for the last three years. “Have you had lunch yet?” 

Glancing at your watch, you’re surprised to see that nearly two hours has passed since you’d left the house. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a small voice wonders just how annoyed Lando is going to be that you left your phone at home. 

You ignore it.

“No, I didn’t even realize how late it was. I guess I went a little time blind.” You sigh, not wanting to admit that you had skipped both breakfast and lunch the last few days. Your appetite while Lando was gone was next to nonexistent, the anxiety of being in the apartment without him too much for your body to handle. 

“Let’s go get some food then.” Charles slips his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “It’s been too long since we’ve had a sibling lunch date, just the two of us. 

Something warm blooms in your chest at his words. It had been a while since you’d seen your brother, since you’d seen any members of your family really. Between your work in the studio and Lando, you didn’t have much spare time on your hands. 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” You murmur, allowing yourself to get swept away by your big brother. 

“So tell me about work.” Charles implores as he leans forward on the white linen table cloth. “Don’t you have a new show coming up?” 

You nod, taking a sip of water as your eyes dart over the menu of the small Italian restaurant Charles had chosen. At first you had protested, insisting that the white linen and heavy sterling silver flatware were much too fancy for you and your sweaty workout clothes but Charles had insisted. ‘Please. You are in Monaco, everyone here is rich enough to wear their grungy clothes without a care in the world.’ Had been his plea but you knew he had ulterior motives: the pasta at this little eatery was divine. So of course you had given in. 

“I do. I’m still working on getting the theming right though, I haven’t been feeling very inspired lately. But the one in two weeks is nearly finished being installed.” Your thoughts flicker to your studio across town, where half a dozen partly completed paintings sit in various states of disarray almost mocking you whenever you walk in the door. 

Like Charles, you were an artist at heart. Except where Charles chose music, you had always been drawn to paint. The thrill of prepping a new canvas, of planning out the idea and initial sketches, to finally, finally getting to put that first bit of color on an otherwise blank canvas. You never felt more at home than when you were seated in front of a canvas, alone in your studio. 

Charles sees the opening he’s been waiting for, leaping on the opportunity like a stowaway in a boxcar train. “I’ve noticed you’ve been…” He pauses, knowing he has to choose his words carefully. “Not yourself lately and now it’s effecting your art? Little Dove, I am worried about you.” 

Your heart aches at the sound of desperation in your brothers words. You hadn’t realized how out of control you’d allowed yourself to be. How desperate you’d become for just a shred of attention from Lando.

“I’m fine, Cha.” The lie slips off your tongue easier than you’d like. 

Charles narrow his eyes because while Arthur may be your twin, Charles? Charles has always been your safe place. You had been the one who had kept him afloat after your father passed. Whenever there were fights over the cost of his’ racing career, you had always been his biggest advocate. If there was one person you trusted more in this world than Arthur, it was Charles. 

And because Charles knows you like the back of his hand, he knows that you’re lying. 

“He’s not good for you.” He hates saying the words, knowing that Lando is also a coworker and at one time, a friend. He may race for McLaren but Charles still had to spend a significant amount of time with him, especially over the last three years that you two had dated. But lately, something had changed in Lando. He wasn’t the same guy he had raced with in 2019. He was darker somehow, more withdrawn his usual crowd but up until now he had just chalked that up to Lando grown up and maturing. 

“Don’t say that, Charles.” You whisper, voice pleading and thick. Your eyes drop to the plate of roasted chicken in front of you while the napkin twists in your fingers. 

“If you want that apartment I just bought, it’s yours.” Your brother’s voice is desperate. “You can pay me rent if you want, I don’t care if you do but that place is yours if you want it.” The offer crashes over you like a giant swell of water breaking over your body. 

It takes a moment for you to process what Charles just offered you. The apartment he just bought? In one of the most exclusive buildings in the city? He wants you to take it? You’re utterly stunned because while Charles has always been more than generous monetarily with his family, gifting you the multi million dollar apartment was bordering on crazy. 

“Charles, I…” You stammer, utterly at a loss for words. 

Charles shakes his head, “Don’t give me an answer now. Think about it, it’s going to take a few months to close the deal but, please my dove. Please think about it.” 

Two Weeks Later

No matter how many shows your work was featured in, opening night always had you on edge. Your art was deeply personal to you and while you loved sharing it with the world, watching that first group of outsiders that had access to your work see it was always enough to fray the delicate edges of your nerves. 

Charles hadn’t brought up his proposition any more after you had left the restaurant that day two weeks ago. He’d hopped on a jet the next day, needing to fly to a race half way across the world. Lando had left that next day too without barely more than a good-bye. He had seen your story on Instagram and had sent you several text messages while you had been with Charles, but beyond that he never even mentioned it. The quiet dismissal was even more painful than any anger he could have directed at you.

You hadn’t been invited to the race by Lando either, not that you would have been able to go. The opening for the gallery where your art was being featured was your priority so you hadn’t even bothered asking Lando if he wanted you there. You had already known the answer anyway. 

When you left the apartment that evening, Lando was still playing Tarkov with Max on his stream. He said he still a while until the show started, why would he want to go with you to get there so early just to stand around and stare at a bunch of paintings? He swore up and down that he’d be there in an hour, just after he finished the next raid with Max and then kissed  you absentmindedly on the cheek as you said good-bye. 

He hadn’t missed a single shot on the screen. 

The gallery is tucked away on a quiet street a few blocks from your apartment so instead of calling an Uber or asking Charles to pick you up, you decided to walk the short distance. The warm Monaco breeze teased at your hair as you slowly wandered down the sidewalk towards your destination alone. 

The lights of the building spill out of windows in the setting Mediterranean sun, casting a warm light out onto the sidewalks. You’d shown your work in this gallery before and loved the owner, who had been one of your first supporters many years ago when your career was just getting started. The way the gallery was set up was ideal for the way your paintings demanded to be displayed and you knew that no matter what, the designers who were in charge of hanging your work would do it all justice.

In the large picture window out front hangs two of your favorite paintings that you’ve painted in a long time. You took a lot of inspiration from the impressionists: Monet, Degas, Renoir and these two were no exception. Lately though, your work had taken a bit of a dark turn with even the gallery owner making a comment on how moody and different your paintings had been lately. You were proud of them though, the bright slashes of color felt like your feelings laid bare on the stretched white canvas were a cathartic release of the stress and anxiety of your home life. 

There are a few people milling about inside, mostly employees but a genuine smile, the first to flit across your face all day, spreads slowly when you spot your brothers walking down the sidewalk. Charles, Arthur, and Lorenzo all saunter towards you but you’re surprised at the fourth figure following your three siblings. 

“Little Dove.” Charles calls when he’s within shouting distance and you walk towards the four men, bright smile fixed on your face. He folds you up into his arms, kissing your cheeks, before passing you over first to Arthur who gives you the same greeting before once again passing you over to Lorenzo. 

The familiar chatter with your brothers is a soothing balm to the opening night jitters that are fluttering around in your chest but it’s the figure who stands quietly off to the side that intrigues you the most.

“Max, it’s so good to see you.” Stepping out of Lorenzo’s hold you walk straight into the Dutchman’s waiting arms. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” 

“And miss the newest works of Monaco’s best artist?” His voice drips with incredulous teasing. “I could never.” 

You know he’s teasing but the words carve themselves deep into your skin, the ache sitting in your chest, all bright and painful. Here you were, in another man’s arms while he praised your work while your boyfriend couldn’t have even bothered to leave the house at the same time as you. 

Reluctantly, Max lets you step out of his arms and not for the first time that night, he takes your figure in. He swears you're thinner than you were last time, a thick cloud of anxiety and something darker hanging over your usually bright demeanor. It physically aches looking at you, how much you’ve changed in the last three years. Max has known you for as long as he’s known Charles and Arthur. When you were younger, you spent most of your time toddling along after your big brother so when he befriended the two brothers from Monaco, you had kind of been part of the package deal. 

He has to resist the urge to rub at the ache in his chest, knowing that you’re with Lando and looking this miserable. You put on a good face though and Max knows that if he hadn’t been so familiar with every dip and plane of your face, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. 

“Thank you for coming.” You murmur, allowing your eyes to linger on Max a beat longer than your brothers. 

Lorenzo, ever the eldest brother, leads the group into the gallery, Max behind you and Arthur in front of you. You can feel the heat of his body radiating when he reaches around your shoulder to hold the door open for you from behind and turn your face upwards to give him a heart stopping smile. “Thank you.” 

You excuse yourself to go find Nessa, the gallery’s owner, leaving your brothers and Max to their own devices while you make sure everything is set for the show. 

Max plucks a flute of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray before he turns to Charles. “Want to take bets on if Lando shows?” He grumbles, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

Charles does it for him though, muttering something that sounds a lot like ‘proper idiot’ under his breath. 

Max nods and turns his attention to the paintings hanging on the wall. You’re not the only artist being featured tonight but your work is the most striking in the room and Max finds himself drawn to a large piece depicting a meadow tucked into a valley with a set of mountains in the background. The sky was what caught Max’s attention though. It was a riot of grays, blues, and shades of the deepest black. The storm was close to boiling over, gathering strength in the background as the foreground of the painting remained seemingly bathed in a golden sunlight. 

The emotion that you had poured into this canvas practically shimmered off the surface and Max found himself with the most overwhelming desire to touch it. 

“This is my favorite of all the pieces I did for tonight.” You murmur as you come to stand beside Max, who tries to hide the involuntary shiver that travels over his skin at the sound of your voice. 

Max slides his eyes over to you without turning his head, almost as if he’s afraid that he’ll scare you away if he moves too fast. “It’s different from your other work.” He observes and your heart clenches. 

Max’s thoughts flicker to the piece he purchased from you four years ago when he moved into his penthouse apartment. It was a piece as big as the one in front of him now, but the color scheme was markedly different. Where the piece in front of him was moody and stormy, the piece that hung in his living room was light and airy. He had seen a similar painting of the French countryside in your studio and had asked you to paint a similar but the Dutch tulip fields of his home country.

Normally, you didn’t take commissions. You were much too attached to your craft and the control you craved to give up such an important piece of your creative process. It was a policy that was a therapist’s dream. 

You had broken your own rule for Max though. You had been powerless against those glacial blue eyes of his and without a second thought you had agreed to do as Max asked. 

“Do you not like it?” You ask, surprising yourself with how much you care about what Max thinks. 

He shakes his head before taking a sip of his champagne. He hadn’t been this close to you for this long in so long, he was almost afraid to move. “No, Dovie. That’s not what I was saying at all. I was just thinking of the one in my house and how different they are.” 

You nod, eyes darting back up to your painting as you think of the tulip fields that was secretly your favorite piece of art you’d ever made. “I was a different person when I painted yours.” You say simply. 

“And how is the person you are now?” Max’s voice is low as he leans into your bare shoulder just a fraction more than might be appropriate for someone who knows you have a boyfriend. 

Chest tightening, the weight of having a boyfriend who is currently running forty five minutes late after promising to be there for you settles on your shoulders so heavily you think you may break. Your cheeks burn as you contemplate how to answer Max’s question. You desperately want to tell him you’re okay. To lie about how broken you feel while the man that you’re in love with misses another milestone in your life. 

“I don’t know.” Emotion claws at your throat, threatening to pull you under right here in the middle of an art gallery. 

Suddenly you turn away from Max, eyes scanning the room desperately looking for a familiar shock of mahogany colored hair. Max stares after you, eyes narrowed at your sudden departure. Your answer plays in his head as he watches you seemingly spot the person you’d been looking for. You start across the room, hoping your sense of determination lasts until you reach Charles. 

“Are you okay?” Your brother looks past the man he’d been speaking to when he sees the desperation in your face. 

“I…Charles, I…” You fumble for your words, mind still scrambling to figure out what your body’s plan was. 

Charles steps around the man and grabs your elbow. “Take a breath, Little Dove.” He soothes. You follow his instructions and take a few steadying breaths, allowing the feeling of your brother’s hand sitting heavy at your elbow to ground you. 

After a few moments you manage to find your voice. “When do you close on the new apartment?”

missleclerc posted:

57,029 likes liked by charlesleclerc, maxverstappen1, nessas_gallery and others missleclerc oh what a night <3 thank you to everyone who took time out of their busy schedules to spend an evening with me celebrating the new show. the pieces will be on display at @/nessas_gallery for the rest of the month!! charlesleclerc another successful opening, little dove! so proud of you >>>arthurleclerc yes, so proud! glad we were able to make it out to support you! >>>user028 the way her brothers are her biggest fans is just...ugh. so cute. >>>user000 and the little dove nickname!! i die. user122 no lando in the likes, comments OR pictures??? where you at bruh??? >>>user0200 did you see that gossip post?! he didn't even show up! >>>user122 ew. seriously???

f1_wag_gossip posted

35,291 likes f1_wag_gossip Lando's girlfriend (also Charles LeClerc's little sister) @/missleclerc’s art was on display at an art gallery opening this Friday night in Monaco but one person was notably missing: Lando Norris himself. Sources snapped photos inside of Miss LeClerc laughing with none other than Max Verstappen before leaving the gallery later in the evening with her brothers and Max in tow. Several people tell me that she looked very upset after the show. Max even had his arm around her as she swiped at tears while waiting for Arthur's car to be brought around. Is there trouble in paradise for the artist and her longtime pilot boyfriend??? user222 he was on Max F's stream for HOURS Friday night. He chose playing Tarkov over going to his girlfriend's art show??? user122 If Max Verstappen, the man that had to have a CURFEW imposed on him by his own team because he stayed up too late playing video games, can put the controller down for one night to attend a FRIENDS art show, surely the poor girls own boyfriend could have done the same??? >>>user222 seriously. tf were you thinking @/Lando??? user988 gross behavior. idk why she's still with him user2237 I wonder how many other events of hers he's ruined?

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