#personalized crystal awards

[designsengravedseo]

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[grapeagata]

It's so sad and demolishing!

frankly it's smiting!!!

it makes me booboo!!!!

there's not enough rocks on tumbler!!!!!!!!!

I follow a ζπᾸ⨋⨑⨓⨪⨞illion geology blogs but it's not enough!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I need more

I need more

MORE

MORE ROCK

[northwesttrophy-blog]

Sports Awards in Woodinville, WA - (425) 485-4149

At Northwest Trophy and Awards, trophies, plaques, and medals are a time-honored way of memorializing great achievement. We offer a variety of custom and special-order items that are available upon request. We have three locations in the Seattle area, and we are ready to serve you!

Northwest Trophy and Awards 13440 NE 177th Pl. Woodinville, WA 98072 (425) 485-4149 https://www.nwtrophy.com

[baeshijima]

hmmm.... thoughts about composer!reader, whose pieces are always created for and featured in mr reca's films/projects.

people aren't sure when it first started, but in the release of one of his prior films was an ost. of course, it's not unusual to have music in such projects, but that one had felt... different, somehow — in the way its composition struck the chords of many, with billions across the cosmos instantly scouring for who made that piece.

it, of course, didn't take all that long when your name was featured in the credits. however there was barely any information aside from your name and credentials. (seriously, how could there not even be a single photo?!) no one knew what you looked like for quite a long time, only ever recognising your name and your music; even despite the numerous interviews, mr reca had never disclosed anything about you other than your talents. it came to a point where everyone believed they would never see your appearance.

well, until all hell broke loose during the annual intergalactic film awards, that is.

everyone already knew the drill — if mr reca had directed a film that year, it would undoubtedly win the adapted/original screenplay, cinematography, directing, production design, sound, music (original score and song), and film of the year awards, which also led to you winning both the music awards. usually, the composers would be the ones to collect said awards. however, the masses have become used to mr reca being the one to collect them on your behalf with thank you's also on your behalf.

that's how it's been ever since you made your mark in the universe, and so it really is understandable the uproar created by those in and out of attendance when the one who went collect the two awards wasn't the esteemed director, but a completely unfamiliar person; you.

you are definitely younger than they originally thought, having believed it must have been someone of a senior status of sorts to have consistently created such masterpieces. all eyes are trained on you as you step on stage and into the limelight for the first time, the light enhancing your features and formal attire when approaching the mic with a small flashcard in hand. your mouth opens, and the audience leans in with baited breaths as they await your first words.

...only for nothing to come out.

everyone watches a little dumbfounded as you try to talk once more but, aside from gaping like a fish, your efforts remain futile. it doesn't take long for you to clamp your mouth and eyes shut, even raising the awards in front of you in an attempt to shield your face from the crowd.

you... you were just really shy. or maybe a little...socially awkward, perhaps...? if this was the reason you never showed yourself, then they're beginning to understand why...

it passes in a blur — quite literally in that of brown. one moment you are alone on the stage, the next you have the presence of the renown director standing slightly in front of you, as though acting as a shield from the many prying eyes.

"apologies," he begins, his usual smile on display, "but my dearest composer has been suffering with a sore throat these past few days. on their behalf, we thank you all kindly for your support in our work."

and then he swiftly leaves with you tucked under and shielded by his coat, murmuring unreadable words to you as you both disappear backstage and leave everyone in a state of frenzy; to both those inside the ceremonial hall, and to those watching live elsewhere.

(it was only discovered after the awards ceremony concluded what the director had said to you, with the uploader being dubbed as a holy saint for their contributions to society. while the visual aspects of the video itself were not the clearest, barely anyone had it within themselves to complain when the audio was clear as crystal:

"and here i thought you were going to be brave and face your stage fright after all that pep-talk you gave yourself on the way here."

"i'm sorry... i really thought i could do it this time..."

"now, now, i'm merely teasing. you made a big step just making an appearance here today. i know how much courage this took for you, and i'm proud of you for facing it."

"really...?"

"but of course. i'm always proud of you, [name]. there is not a moment where i haven't been.")

(it also was not long until the cosmos was taken by storm when various pictures snapped during the awards ceremony spread. the millions of candids featuring you were one of the most liked and shared, with the top spot joined by the sequence of pictures taken of mr reca's soft expression when watching you onstage, into his realisation of your predicament, into him running onstage and shielding you from the cameras when making your way backstage.)

(...the drastic influx of fan accounts dedicated to both you alone and to you and reca should really be a studied phenomenon.)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Sandra Newman’s “Julia”

The first chapter of Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four has a fantastic joke that nearly everyone misses: when Julia, Winston Smith's love interest, is introduced, she has oily hands and a giant wrench, which she uses in her "mechanical job on one of the novel-writing machines":

https://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks01/0100021.txt

That line just kills me every time I re-read the book – Orwell, a novelist, writing a dystopian future in which novels are written by giant, clanking mechanisms. Later on, when Winston and Julia begin their illicit affair, we get more detail:

She could describe the whole process of composing a novel, from the general directive issued by the Planning Committee down to the final touching-up by the Rewrite Squad. But she was not interested in the finished product. She 'didn't much care for reading,' she said. Books were just a commodity that had to be produced, like jam or bootlaces.

I always assumed Orwell was subtweeting his publishers and editors here, and you can only imagine that the editor who asked Orwell to tweak the 1984 manuscript must have felt an uncomfortable parallel between their requests and the notional Planning Committee and Rewrite Squad at the Ministry of Truth.

I first read 1984 in the early winter of, well, 1984, when I was thirteen years old. I was on a family trip that included as visit to my relatives in Leningrad, and the novel made a significant impact on me. I immediately connected it to the canon of dystopian science fiction that I was already avidly consuming, and to the geopolitics of a world that seemed on the brink of nuclear devastation. I also connected it to my own hopes for the nascent field of personal computing, which I'd gotten an early start on, when my father – then a computer science student – started bringing home dumb terminals and acoustic couplers from his university in the mid-1970s. Orwell crystallized my nascent horror at the oppressive uses of technology (such as the automated Mutually Assured Destruction nuclear systems that haunted my nightmares) and my dreams of the better worlds we could have with computers.

It's not an overstatement to say that the rest of my life has been about this tension. It's no coincidence that I wrote a series of "Little Brother" novels whose protagonist calls himself w1n5t0n:

https://craphound.com/littlebrother/Cory_Doctorow_-_Little_Brother.htm

I didn't stop with Orwell, of course. I wrote a whole series of widely read, award-winning stories with the same titles as famous sf tales, starting with "Anda's Game" ("Ender's Game"):

https://www.salon.com/2004/11/15/andas_game/

And "I, Robot":

https://craphound.com/overclocked/Cory_Doctorow_-_Overclocked_-_I_Robot.html

"The Martian Chronicles":

https://escapepod.org/2019/10/03/escape-pod-700-martian-chronicles-part-1/

"True Names":

https://archive.org/details/TrueNames

"The Man Who Sold the Moon":

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/05/22/the-man-who-sold-the-moon/

and "The Brave Little Toaster":

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212

Writing stories about other stories that you hate or love or just can't get out of your head is a very old and important literary tradition. As EL Doctorow (no relation) writes in his essay "Genesis," the Hebrews stole their Genesis story from the Babylonians, rewriting it to their specifications:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/41520/creationists-by-e-l-doctorow/

As my "famous title" stories and Little Brother books show, this work needn't be confined to antiquity. Modern copyright may be draconian, but it contains exceptions ("fair use" in the US, "fair dealing" in many other places) that allow for this kind of creative reworking. One of the most important fair use cases concerns The Wind Done Gone, Alice Randall's 2001 retelling of Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind from the perspective of the enslaved characters, which was judged to be fair use after Mitchell's heirs tried to censor the book:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suntrust_Bank_v._Houghton_Mifflin_Co.

In ruling for Randall, the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals emphasized that she had "fully employed those conscripted elements from Gone With the Wind to make war against it." Randall used several of Mitchell's most famous lines, "but vest[ed] them with a completely new significance":

https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/appellate-courts/F3/268/1257/608446/

The Wind Done Gone is an excellent book, and both its text and its legal controversy kept springing to mind as I read Sandra Newman's wonderful novel Julia, which retells 1984 from the perspective of Julia, she of the oily hands the novel-writing machine:

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/julia-sandra-newman?variant=41467936636962

Julia is the kind of fanfic that I love, in the tradition of both Wind Done gone and Rosenkrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead, in which a follow-on author takes on the original author's throwaway world-building with deadly seriousness, elucidating the weird implications and buried subtexts of all the stuff and people moving around in the wings and background of the original.

For Newman, the starting point here is Julia, an enigmatic lover who comes to Winston with all kinds of rebellious secrets – tradecraft for planning and executing dirty little assignations and acquiring black market goods. Julia embodies a common contradiction in the depiction of young women (she is some twenty years younger than Winston): on the one hand, she is a "native" of the world, while Winston is a late arrival, carrying around all his "oldthink" baggage that leaves him perennially baffled, terrified and angry; on the other hand, she's a naive "girl," who "doesn't much care for reading," and lacks the intellectual curiosity that propels Winston through the text.

This contradiction is the cleavage line that Newman drives her chisel into, fracturing Orwell's world in useful, fascinating, engrossing ways. For Winston, the world of 1984 is totalitarian: the Party knows all, controls all and misses nothing. To merely think a disloyal thought is to be doomed, because the omnipotent, omniscient, and omnicompetent Party will sense the thought and mark you for torture and "vaporization."

Orwell's readers experience all of 1984 through Winston's eyes and are encouraged to trust his assessment of his situation. But Newman brings in a second point of view, that of Julia, who is indeed far more worldly than Winston. But that's not because she's younger than him – it's because she's more provincial. Julia, we learn, grew up outside of the Home Counties, where the revolution was incomplete and where dissidents – like her parents – were sent into exile. Julia has experienced the periphery of the Party's power, the places where it is frayed and incomplete. For Julia, the Party may be ruthless and powerful, but it's hardly omnicompetent. Indeed, it's rather fumbling.

Which makes sense. After all, if we take Winston at his word and assume that every disloyal citizen of Oceania is arrested, tortured and murdered, where would that leave Oceania? Even Kim Jong Un can't murder everyone who hates him, or he'd get awfully lonely, and then awfully hungry.

Through Julia's eyes, we experience Oceania as a paranoid autocracy, corrupt and twitchy. We witness the obvious corollary of a culture of denunciation and arrest: the ruling Party of such an institution must be riddled with internecine struggle and backstabbing, to the point of paralyzed dysfunction. The Orwellian trick of switching from being at war with Eastasia to Eurasia and back again is actually driven by real military setbacks – not just faked battles designed to stir up patriotic fervor. The Party doesn't merely claim to be under assault from internal and external enemies – it actually is.

Julia is also perfectly positioned to uncover the vast blank spots in Winston's supposed intellectual curiosity, all the questions he doesn't ask – about her, about the Party, and about the world. I love this trope and used it myself, in Attack Surface, the third "Little Brother" book, which is told from the point of view of Marcus's frenemy Masha:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531/attacksurface

Through Julia, we come to understand the seemingly omniscient, omnipotent Party as fumbling sadists. The Thought Police are like MI5, an Island of Misfit Toys where the paranoid, the stupid, the vicious and the thuggish come together to ruin the lives of thousands, in such a chaotic and pointless manner that their victims find themselves spinning devastatingly clever explanations for their behavior:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/adamcurtis/entries/3662a707-0af9-3149-963f-47bea720b460

And, as with Nineteen Eighty-Four, Julia is a first-rate novel, expertly plotted, with fantastic, nail-biting suspense and many smart turns and clever phrases. Newman is doing Orwell, and, at times, outdoing him. In her hands, Orwell – like Winston – is revealed as a kind of overly credulous romantic who can't believe that anyone as obviously stupid and deranged as the state's representatives could be kicking his ass so very thoroughly.

This was, in many ways, the defining trauma and problem of Orwell's life, from his origin story, in which he is shot through the throat by a fascist: sniper during the Spanish Civil War:

https://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/soldiers/george-orwell-shot.html

To his final days, when he developed a foolish crush on a British state spy and tried to impress her by turning his erstwhile comrades in to her:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orwell%27s_list

Newman's feminist retelling of Orwell is as much about puncturing the myth of male competence as it is about revealing the inner life, agency, and personhood of swooning love-interests. As someone who loves Orwell – but not unconditionally – I was moved, impressed, and delighted by Julia.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/28/novel-writing-machines/#fanfic

[zaynes-nieve]

Zayne Confirmed Lore

Anything confirmed by the developers, including any accounts or information within the game! (I will update you as the game continues, and I appreciate any info I can get from you all as well!!!!)

Tender Moments | Memoria | Bond | Devs/Offical/Messages/Calls | Main Story | Annecdotes

Basic Info:

Zayne's Birthday is September 5th | About Him

Other Names: Rei (JP), Lee See-Oen (KR) and Li Shen (CN)

Zayne's Constellation sign is a Virgo (like me)| About Him

Zayne is 6'1 | About Him

Zayne's age is 27 | About Him

Zayne is the Chief Cardiac Surgeon at Akso Hospital | About Him

Zayne's evol is Ice | About Him

Daily Life and a good chunk of the lore

Zayne is a workaholic, and he likes it | Gentle Twilight/About Him

He is good at snowboarding! | Everlasting Snowdrop/About Him

He knows how to peel an apple in one go | Spring Remnants/About Him

He is good at drawing (those anatomical diagrams, ftw!!!) | Suprise Encounter/About Him

He has a sweet tooth (like me) | Nostalgic Sweetness/About Him

He gets toothaches (unlike me) | Nostalgic Sweetness/About Him

He is a terrible patient (Strict against others, indulgent to his own whims) | Nostalgic Sweetness/About Him

Zayne is a teetotaler (a person who never drinks alcohol) | Drunken Intimacy/About Him

He is good at pool but is a strict teacher | Exclusive Tutorial/About Him

His Parents are also Doctors and work with Doctors without Borders overseas | Eternal Attachment/About Him

He sends them a message on his birthday each year, telling them he is just fine! | Eternal Attachment/About Him

Zayne has a hard time controlling his Evol | Main Story 4-10/Never Ending Winter ch.4

Starcatcher Awardee (2046) | Main Story 4-5

Linde Award Winner (Year 2046) | Main Story 4-5 / Never Ending Winter ch.10? Last chapter mention

His patients all are obedient (terrified) of him | A Pure White Heart ch. 3

Dr. Zayne and Dawnbreaker see each other in their dreams | Gonna be pulling from a lot of things, so give me a moment for this one 😭 (Never Ending Winter Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.4) (Ngl Dawnbreaker Might Need his own section....or Page)

He has a pet squirrel named after the medication, Clopidogrel! | Feed the Squirrel/Message

It appears Zayne also frequently volunteers to assist in medical relief for disasters or joins the medical teams assisting hunters fighting wanders in high-frequency zones | Dawn's Shadows, Foreign Aid/Video Call, Hidden Motive, Medical Rescue

He is quick to forgo his well-being to save others in dangerous situations. He truly puts his own duty as a doctor above everything else.| Medical Rescue, Neon Night

His Past:

Zayne was one smart cookie and skipped several years! But because he was so young and his classmates were not. He had a hard time making friends | Delicacy/About Him

When he was in medical school, he visited a barbeque stall a lot | Delicacy/About Him

He has a good tolerance for pain😭and he gets injured a lot, leaving many scars | Medical Rescue/About Him

Dr. Zayne was in the 35th Cohort of the Skyhaven Medical School in a PhD Program | Never Ending Winter ch.1

He was an intern under Dr. William (took him under his wing) | Never Ending Winter ch.1

It's implied he had to kill William after those black crystals seemed to be turning Dr.William into a Wanderer (Do we consider this confirmed enough?) | Never Ending Winter ch. 6

He Plays Tennis (and won a prize!) | Tennis Game/Messages

Due to the time travel shenanigans and our boy being the best at everything, Zayne is now an expert Jade carver! | Moonlit Dream

He briefly studied keyboards as a child. But quit after a month. | Heartstring Notes

All he knows how to play is Little Lamb | Heartstring Notes

His Likes:

He really hates carrots!!! | A Frozen Promise/About Him

He visits medical museums to relax, or he will go look out at the river | Heart Within Reach/About Him

Our Story 💙❄️☃️

He gave us a little snow seal when we were children (we thought it was a snowball) | A Frozen Promise/About Him

After seeing our name on the volunteer list for the Frontlines, he follows us. Hidden Motive/Insta Acc.

He is our Primary Doctor!!! (we're not gonna talk about the ethics of this LMFAO) | Main Story 1-8/About Him

Zayne said he melted an "old" popsicle (our popsicles at this time) for us when we were kids | Nostalgic Sweetness/About Him

Our Grandmother left us a letter with Zayne, and he seems to know more than he is letting on | Main Story 4-7 (I'll double check this one)

We voted for him in the Patient's Favorite Doctor poll on Asko's official account (He also won) | A Vote/Message

HE USES US AS HIS WALLPAPER | Screen Saver/Message

Zayne is not above bribery (whether it is us or his patients) | I Miss You/Message

We gave daffodils to Zayne! (they're garlic) | Gardening/Message

Dawnbreaker

Anything talked about in this section is written as if you have already had the knowledge before hand.

Never Ending Winter: Zayne Anecdote #2

First mention of Dawnbreaker and also where we get the info of Zayne's Nightmare into Dawnbreaker's world.

Zayne mentions the nightmares again and talks about how his current reality is more bloody than his nightmares (Dawn Breaker World)

We get Dr.Zayne's perspective as he is "in that world of ice and snow" Zayne attacks himself from his perspective with dark crystals (which we know from The third ancedote is the color of Dawnbreaker's ice

Dr.Zayne refers to this black coated version of him as the Grim Reaper.

Zayne almost accidentally killed someone important to him when he was 12. He was 12 when he first started getting dreams of Dawnbreaker

Crystals begin to grow off of William (though, they mention the color of said crystals being black, they dont mention if they're ice)

The people Dawnbreaker killed appear in front of him after he kills William

Still in the Dark: Zayne Anecdote #3

Georgie's first description of Dawnbreaker Zayne is that of a Grim Reaper (hence the connection to all mentions of him in Never Ending Winter)

Georige is a young boy who hires Zayne to help him find the person who killed his mom

Dawnbreaker is the in canon title for the serial killer who leaves no bodys only dark blue crystals

There is footage of Dawnbreaker killing these people, so it isn't speculation

Detective Ivan, the police working on the Dawnbreaker case, gives distrubing insight into the situation, giving his point of view that the people who Dawnbreaker is killing leave behind shards like Wanderer protocores

When he catches Dawnbreaker in the act, he finds the victim with tentacles and attacking Dawnbreaker.

Georgie's mother was a worker at an ungergound protocore factory

Zayne, after running out of chocolate, takes some from Georgie, and so begins the Georige & Zayne duo.

DB!Zayne watches Old Doctor Television Shows

He also only lives off of Nutrient Solutions

DB! Zayne also has a Jasmine Plant

He also oftens visits a decayed plaza with a jasmine field

In their universe, Linkon City is a city from a distant past.

DB!Zayne confirms that he also dreans and that it is of Linkon City

Chapter 4 is where we get the most intermigle between Zayne & DB! Zayne.

Zayne dreams of MC and the snacks we share with Zayne in particular a popsicle which could be a refrence to [ill pull it later]

He dreams of being a suregon. He started getting these dreams also at the age twelve

He knew at 12 that MC and Zayne would meet at 27

Dawnbreaker lives vicariously though these dreams and the remnants of Linkon he can find in his world.

Zayne calls the Humans who leave behind Protocore fragments "Abominations"

He plays soem recording about Zhuangzi and the Butterfly essentially not knowing if he was the dream or if they are. (Butterfly dreaming of being Zhuangzi or Zhuangzi dreaming of being a Butterfly) Dr.Zayne and Dawnbreaker to a T.

Georgie dreams of being a monster (Foreshadowing yall). Zayne notices a bump under Georgies eyes 😭

Georgie, on the day he turns 12, begins to show more obvious symptoms of being an Abomination

IK this has been more of a recount, but we got little to work with Dawn Breaker lore yall

Dawn Breakers first kill was when he was 12, after he killed his adopted father, who became an Abomination

It is also here that we learn that if not killed, these beings turn into Wanderers.

Zayne is the one who murdered Georgie's mother

We find out that Georgie's mother requested that Zayne kills her half a month before she turned.

Her Coworkers having turned into Wanderers (She believes it was due to their long exposure to the protocores)

Zayne kills Georgie after he becomes an Abomination

Detective Ivan gives us the run down that the government and those in power are hiding the fact that some of those wanderers were once human. He also intends to stop and destory the investigation against Dawnbreaker, likely so Zayne can continue doing his job.

(At least two more sections on its way)

Pls hit me up with any more information and where it's from!!

[lsargeantsgirl]

Reserve

pairing: max verstappen x f2 driver reader

word count: 1.3k

Summary: Max meets a woman at the 2023 FIA Prize Giving ceremony, but don't exchange numbers. Months later they meet again and sparks fly more than ever.

Warning: Max’s personality is not accurate.

MANY INACCURACIES (take place in Baku, but the place is the Met) also didn't know what to title this

----

2023 FIA Prize Giving ceremony

Y/n ascends the staircase with the wind in her dress and her hair blowing in the wind. She felt better than she ever had. Even though her boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend, broke up with her a week ago. He had said some things that had made her feel worthless. Now she felt on top of the world. She had won the Formula 2 Rookie of the Year. It had been a crazy tear for you. 

“Y/N,” was all you were surrounded by. Many reporters and fans were yelling for your attention. At the top of the stairs, you stopped and looked over your shoulder as a pose. A man near the middle of the stairs caught your eye. He was sharply dressed in a nice suit.

After enough time to get the shot, you continued through the doors. Your team principal met you halfway to the team’s table. 

“Y/N, you look great. I got an email today from the Team Principal of the Red Bull F1 team, Christian Horner. He wants to talk to you.”

“When does he want to meet?”

“He wants you to meet him after the awards.”

“Ok, you’ll know where I’ll be”

He walked away as you made your way to the bar, getting your favorite drink. A man finds his place next to you.

“Hey, how are you?” he said with an accent.

“Good, you?”

“Great, now since I met such a beautiful woman,” he flirted.

“Aww, what level are you in?”

“F1.”

“Ooh, fancy pants here,” you said while smiling. “Guess I’m too poor for you.”

“But you’re not ‘poor’ on the beauty scale.” He smiles, and you meet his crystal-blue eyes.

“Thanks, if looks could lap, you’d be a world champion,” you joke to him, hitting his arm with a dopey smile.

“Jokes on you, actually, I am,”  he says with all seriousness. 

The smile on your face dropped. “What?!”

“The champion of your heart,” he smiles detecting your stand-offness to his previous comment. “So can I have your number?”

“If you buy the next round.”

“Bartender, can you put all of her drinks on my tab tonight,” he says as the bartender nods.

“Well, thank you, but for that, I can repay you by giving you my number,” you said as you trailed your finger on his shoulder.

“What if I don’t want it?” he says ‘sarcastically’ but you don’t catch on.

The face you made you kill someone. Your face dropped farther than it ever had. You might even have to get Botox for the frown lines after that. You set your drink on the bar and back away. 

“Thank you for the drinks, have a great night,” you said before turning on your heel and walking away. 

“Wait,” you hear him slightly yell but you ignore it. Max starts to hate himself for being sarcastic. It was hard for him to make friends or talk to girls. His abusive past makes him overthink things so much so that he blocks the best of people out.

You strut to your team’s table. As the ceremony commences, your eyes meet the Caribbean blue eyes. You fight the urge to smile at him, instead you force your deepest frown and even add a roll of the eye. 

Your award was announced. You walk up the stairs with a huge smile. As you look out at the audience, you feel a sense of accomplishment. You seem calm and collected but inside you are so nervous.

“Thank you to everyone, my team, my engineers, my strategists, my family, my friends. All that you have done for me has brought me to this very moment. No words can express how thankful I am for everything. All the blood, sweat, and tears I have put into this sport have finally paid off. If I cried on your shoulder, an extra thank you to you. Thank you,” you finished.

The rest of the night went by in a blur until your team principal came to you with three men following him.

“Y/n, this is Christian Horner, team principal of the Red Bull F1 Team.”

“Mr. Horner, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Miss (your last name), likewise, congratulations on your F2 Rookie of the Year.”

“Thank you,” you politely replied.

“I would like you to meet my drivers: World Champion, Max Verstappen and his teammate, Sergio Perez.”

You looked at the man he called Max and looked him up and down and said, “Champion of your heart, my ass.”

“Y/n, a word please,” your team principal grasped the upper portion of your arm. “What the hell, they’re offering their reserve driver to you. Don’t act normal please.”

You walked back to the group of Red Bulls. “My apologies, Mr. Perez, a pleasure to meet you,” you apologized completely ignoring Max. 

“Y/n, after careful consideration, Red Bull would like to offer you the position of our reserve driver. You can take as much time as you need to decide,” Christian said.

“Thank you, sir. I will think about it.” 

Christian and his boys walked away after giving their farewells.

—-- A couple of months later—

Bahrain Grand Prix

“Here we are in Bahrain, preparing for the first race of the 2024 Formula One championship quest, the 2024 Bahrain Grand Prix. It is a sunny day of 20 degrees Celsius or 69 degrees Fahrenheit. There are no new drivers to the starting grid but there are changes to the reserve drivers mainly, the Formula 2 Rookie of the Year, (your name). She had amazing testing results here last week. One of our reporters is with her now.” the Sky Sports host said. 

“Y/N, welcome to your first grand prix as a reserve driver. Are there any feelings of accomplishment yet?” she asked.

You laughed, “Not really, I am so happy to have this opportunity. Thank you to Christian and the Red Bull team for trusting me. It really won’t settle in until I’m in one of the cars during a race but yes I am so happy and excited to be here.”

“As someone new to F1, how is having Max Verstappen as a teammate?”

“I mean, he’s different than my previous mates. We have our downs but nothing that makes me lose sleep, I don't know about him though.”

“Well, thank you for your time, I hope you enjoy this grand prix.”

Sometime later after Max won the race, he found you at the back of the garage and cornered you.

“Do you think I lost sleep over that night in Baku?” he said with a low volume.

“You were the one who came running after me so maybe.”

“You would be right, every day I think about what compelled me to say that and I still don’t know what did?”

“I know what did. You were attracted to me so your first instinct was to pull me in but when I got too close you pushed me away, that’s not your fault.”

“My dad made me work so hard, so when you came in so easily I thought it was too good to be true,” he said.

“I feel the same,” you whisper.

“You do?” he whispered back.

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,”

His lips met your softly. You were hidden in the back of the garage so no one could see this intimate moment.

After you separated your lips, he asked, “Can I take you to dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, you know where to pick me up,” you say slipping out from between him and the wall to go back to the front of the garage, anxiously waiting for the night to come.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [DEVOTION…. Pt. 2]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx

[ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SLIGHT AGE GAP ] + [ ARRANGED MARRIAGE ] + [ BREEDING KINK ] + [ MENTIONS OF BLOOD & GORE ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx

Beautiful days weren't uncommon in New Orleans.

They frequently occurred -even more so during the late summer months in the swamped countryside- where you now found yourself traveling through alongside your husband.

Alastor had decided it was high time both of you visited your recently conjoined families. His mother constantly asked to see you again, calling twice a week like clockwork to check on her darling son and his ever-so-sweet wife, and you appreciated her sincere affection.

You missed visiting her in person, learning things from her, and observing how much adoration she had for Alastor..

In a sense, she'd raised you like her own daughter, taking the place of your mother, who'd passed before you'd even taken your first steps. Your father was adamant a 'fever' took her, but Alastor's mother always hinted at a force greater than unfortunate health having to do with it.

You'd never thought to ask what she meant, trusting her wise and kind words wholeheartedly since Alastor was your only friend, but curiosity did plague your thoughts from time to time.

Her passing was a tragedy you could barely remember….

However, it was in the past, your mother was gone with your childhood, and you were now in the present -married to a man you never wished to part from…

Even more so now that he'd revealed how truly devoted he was to you and you alone…

“….I feel much more than love for you, my dear. Devotion is a better term…obsession at times…”

Those words of his rang loud and clear in your head for days on end, making your heart flutter ten times harder than it usually did when he was near and coaxing a particular passion for making him happy out of you at every opportunity given.

Your infatuation had grown into undeterred loyalty and in your opinion he deserved every bit of it.

Alastor worked tirelessly to further his career. Reaping the benefits of such hard work through copious amounts of money and awards from various admirers.

He'd perfected so many things to reach that point, hiding his natural down home drawl with a perfect transatlantic accent -you found both charming but preferred the first. Although, you understood why he’d mastered the ladder accent, and never insisted upon him disregarding it.

It was what made his character, brought the masses running back for more each time he was on air, and what kind of wife would you be if you asked him to refute all the admiration for simple and selfish reasons?..

He wasn’t home often enough to have such conversations in the first place…

Alastor was no stranger to working late into the evening, writing script after script past midnight at the station, and only returning home when he was sure his manuscripts were crystal clear.

That’s what you were made to believe he was doing anyway.

Alastor made sure of that.

In your eyes he was perfect, hardworking, and utterly perfect…

Not the merciless, flesh hungry, murder that’d been stalking the streets of New Orleans for almost six consecutive months…

To your knowledge Alastor had no flaws, no deep, dark secrets you felt the need to uncover, and certainly not a man with a tainted sense of morality you couldn't fully trust.

He ensured your view of him remained spotless, devoid of bloodthirst or cruelty.

You were too innocent for it, too pure to know what he'd done and continued to do for the sake of self-satisfaction, but there is always a time for truths to come to light…

Nevertheless, Alastor strived to make sure that time never came…

So, when the city became on edge, being put under a curfew by law enforcement in hopes of slowing the occurrence of his murders, and the number of police patrols significantly increased, Alastor decided a nice…long…relaxing vacation to the countryside would be an excellent idea.

Nothing suspicious about the idea at all…

You were ecstatic about the trip, rushing to pack things for the both of you the very evening he mentioned it, and Alastor was genuinely pleased to see you so excited.

You were painfully unaware of his true motives…so willing to spend time with him and leave the fear-induced city behind…

Oh, how he loved it…you and your gentle, naive nature…

Truly, a warm-hearted belle safe and sound in his bloodstained grasp.

He almost felt guilty, looking at you now, taking your first bare footsteps into the dewy summer grass surrounding his mother's home. Your eyes lit up like the high noon sun shining down on you both, soft lips pulled into a satisfied smile as you reacquainted yourself with fresh summer air, "God, I missed this.." you whispered to yourself as the comforting wind blew through your hair.

Alastor laughed softly, smile ever present as you did a twirl in the grass before looking at him over your shoulder, "Well, aren't you gonna join me, Al? Or am I gonna have to get a hug from your mother first?"

He narrowed his eyes, smile softening at the mention of her, "First? My dear, are you askin' for a race?"

You grinned, giggling as you shrugged playfully while walking backward towards the pathway leading to his mother's home, "Only if you're agreeing to one, honey.." you respond cheekily.

Your husband could never resist a challenge.

Ever.

You’d realized that very early on in your time with him, using it to your advantage more often than he realized.

Getting your way with Alastor was a special skill unique to you and not a soul else…

A smirk tugged at your lips as Alastor pushed off from leaning against the car, rolling his sleeves up as he strode towards you, "Daring, little thing, aren't you?" He teased, having to yell as you spun on your heel and took off without warning.

You let out a laugh, hearing him give chase, only a meter behind you in less than three seconds, and his subtle chiding at your attempt at cheating urging you to beat him.

"Looks like I'll beat you, dearest!" He boasts, drawing nearer to you within seconds, but hesitating to pass you by as he took in the sight of your white cotton dress riding higher up your thighs as you ran.

A delectable view for him in more ways than one…

Alastor couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen such a carefree and angelic sight. Nor, did he want to when you were right in front of him.

You scoffed at his teasing, oblivious to Alastor’s longing stare as you hiked up the front hem of your dress to hop over a fallen tree branch, but when you landed, he was at your side -a smirk already sneaking its way onto his face as you shot him a surprised glance.

When had he gotten so fast?…

You weren't sure, but Alastor had always been more physically fit than most, so you merely tried to keep up with him as the end of the path approached.

He beat you by five feet at least, but you were in too much of a giggle fit to notice. "You cheated!" You chirped, faking a pout as he leaned against one of the dark timber poles that upheld the wrap-around porch. "I was only beating you at your own game, ma chère… fair is fair." Alastor flashed you a grin, pushing his glasses to rest on top of his head before raising a hand to swipe the specks of dust that'd landed on his cheek during your short race.

You smiled at the rare, docile, boyish action. Alastor was never one to altogether drop his guard, so when moments like this occurred, you'd relish in it for as long as possible.

"Here, let me…" you spoke softly, still a little breathless after running but eager to help your husband. Alastor dropped his hand from his face, leaning down to make your reach for him less strenuous, and you smiled at the tiny habit.

He'd always considered your height difference, and your tummy fluttered at each implication of it.

Using the back of your dress sleeve, you carefully wiped at his cheek as he stared at you, allowing you to gingerly guide his face from side to side with your small hand cupping his jaw. "There, much better, monsieur.." you compliment him with a flirtatious drawl, admiring his dust free skin in the sunlight as a few strands of his wavy brown hair shifts over his eyes from the wind.

Alastor returns your admiration, gaze lowering to your lips when you speak and slowly rising again as you place the round glasses back on his face. "Thank you,'ma chère," he sighs gratefully, natural southern drawl shining through as he speaks, finding himself out of breathless as you stare up at him lovingly.

In all his life Alastor could count on one hand how many times an inkling of ‘love’ had trickled its way into his heart. You seemed to be a factor in at least half of those memories.

He deemed that fact more than enough reason to kill for you if fate ever dictated harm your way…

What man wouldn't spill a bit of blood for a woman that looks at him the way you are looking at him now..?

A lesser one, surely.

Alastor considered himself far from the definition of a lesser man..

“It’s my pleasure,” you mutter in response, shifting to step around him and knock on the door, but Alastor stops you by wrapping an arm around your waist, bringing you in close to gently kiss your nose, then your lips, and you return the intimate gesture on instinct.

He hums deep within his chest as your soft lips melt into his, grip tightening on your waist as he unconsciously glides his tongue along yours, and you successfully stifle a moan at the unexpected intrusion.

Was that….blood you tasted on him?…

You weren't given much time to register the iron residue mixed with the hints of black coffee you'd made for him that morning since the sound of a door swinging open startled you half to death before any connection could be made.

"Oh, well, would you get a look at you two!" Angelique Hartifelt beamed as she registered who was on her doorstep. Alastor immediately let you go, smiling wide as his mother tugged him into an airtight hug, and you blushed at the heartwarming sight.

"Hello, mother," Alastor mumbled into her dark curls, swaying her in his arms as she took him in, "My, you've grown baby…real successful too, I hear.." She laughed as he nodded, both clearly happy to see each other after so long, but she eventually pulled away from Alastor to turn her attention to you.

"Sweet girl… c'mere! God, you're just as pretty as a magnolia in May!" You had no time to reply as she hugged you tight, kissing your cheek while you giggled and greeted her politely, "You're too kind, Mrs. Hartifelt … It's nice to see you again! I've missed you dearly!"

She stepped back, grinning as wide as her son as she spun you around, "Don't be silly, honey! Married life becomes you! I missed seeing your lovely self, too. Maybe if Al stopped working so much, you'd have more time to stop by.." She gave him a playful glare, to which he flashed an apologetic smile.

"I'll try to remember that, Mother.." he tipped his head in understanding, and she swatted his arm lightly. "Oh, you know I'm only poking fun, baby. Come on inside, I wanna hear about the two of you…"

She paused, ushering you in the door first with a knowing smile, "…and if I have any grandchildren on the way." Her jest made you turn bright red, but her lighthearted laughter that followed eased your nerves.

However, Alastor's face fell for a moment as she said it, the two of you sharing a strange stare as Angelique closed the behind her and whisked past you both to lead the way into the kitchen.

It was only for a split second, but you could've sworn Alastor looked…

Hopeful…?

Or rather, genuinely affected by the mention of having a child with you…

The complex expression vanished from his face just as quickly as it appeared, his gaze shifting from you to his mother as she set a pitcher of sweet tea and a plate full of cookies out, and you instantly focused on the dish of sweets as the sugary smell invaded your nose.

You were here to enjoy her company, get away from the world and its burdensome worries, and overthinking Alastor’s every reaction wouldn’t be a good start to that….

Besides, her sweets were always your favorite; she'd shown you how to bake, and you attributed most of your cooking skills to her teaching. Alastor had also picked up a great deal of culinary tricks from her, and it became another hobby you two bonded over during childhood.

"Those look amazing, Mrs. Hartifelt," you flashed her a smile, humming as you pretended to swoon over them, and she laughed at your slight dramatics. "I suspected you'd stop by, so I made your favorite, honey. Come on, sit!"

"Don't mind if I do," you chirped and sat next to her at the modestly round dining table; she poured you both a glass of sweet tea before looking over at Alastor expectantly. "That means you too," she gently scolded his standoff-ish behavior, watching as he took a seat on her unoccupied side and patting his cheek in gratitude as he did.

Alastor leaned into her touch, mumbling an apology for not accompanying her sooner, "I got lost in thought, is all…" he clarified in a soft chuckle, and she nodded in understanding.

"Mmm, really, what about?"

His gaze shifted to you again, and your body momentarily froze as he stared while answering his mother, "How much I love you…that’s all.”

Whether he meant to direct the phrase towards you or his mother was unclear, but your chest tightened, and your head filled with fog nonetheless.

How could he still manage to make you so unsteady within the simplest efforts and gestures?…

Alastor held your gaze for a minute longer, forgetting where he was presently, but his self induced trance vanished as his mother spoke again.

"I see you still haven’t lost your charm to the big city. That radio show must keep you on your toes, then.."

He nodded, laughing gently at his mother's teasing, "I wouldn’t dream of it, and my audience expects the best, so I must deliver."

She nods, humming as her chocolate eyes drift towards you, "And how is my lovely son treating you, sweetheart? Well, I presume?"

You could hear the hint of curiosity in her tone, light but underlying seriousness in her question. It was no secret to her that Alastor had…certain tendencies, but those were reserved for people who deserved it, and you'd never been deemed deserving.

She hoped it remained that way…

To her inner relief, you answered her with the broadest smile and happiest tone, "Oh, of course! I couldn't have asked for a better husband! You raised him well..a true gentleman, Mrs. Hartifelt."

Alastor smirked, reveling in your praise, unbothered by his mother eyeing him carefully before she gave you a pleasant response, "I'm glad to hear that. You're still sweet on him too…just like when you were little."

You blushed, taking a ginger bite of one cookie while nodding, "Mhm.."

Why you became nervous when your childlike crush on Alastor was brought up was a mystery, but you couldn't help it since both of your families saw your subtle pining for him day in and day out.

"Speaking of 'little'…" his mother sat straight, arms crossed over her chest as she glanced at the both of you, "When are you two gonna give me a grandbaby to look after. I'm not getting any younger, Al.."

That look crossed his face again, but his smile remained.

You, however, nearly choked on your sweet treat, but luckily managed not to make an utter fool of yourself. A minor cough and a quick sip from your glass eased your mishap.

Angelique patted your back gently, laughing softly at your reaction, "Honey, I'm only kidding… there's no rush." Her reassurance was genuine, but unbeknownst to her, Alastor had breached the subject already.

Albeit in the heat of a very intense and lust-driven moment.

"Ma chère," Alastor rose from his chair, slight concern on his face as he came to kneel by your chair, "…are you alright?"

You nodded slowly, smiling softly at him before huffing out, "M' fine…no need to worry.." he nodded in return, standing to his feet to address her implications.

"We'll see what the future holds, Mother, but as of now, are we welcome to your hospitality for a few days?"

He knew she'd say 'yes' but made it a habit to ask.

Alastor maintained impeccable manners, just as she'd taught him to have, and it brought a proud glint to Angelique’s eyes.

"Now, Al, why would I ever say no to that. You two stay as long as you want!"

You tipped your head in gratitude, "Thank you, Mrs. Hartifelt.."

She scoffed, placing her hand over one of yours before leaning in close as if to tell you a secret Alastor shouldn’t hear.

"Even after all these years and being married to my boy, you're still so polite, Y/n. The world won't burn to a crisp if you call me 'mother' sweetheart."

She kissed your temple, and your heart melted at the tender gesture, "We are family, after all."

That was true…

"I suppose you're right, Mrs- I mean mother." You tripped over the words, so used to being formal but enjoying the new arrangement.

It felt natural enough.

"Look how easy that was!" Angelique patted your hand assuredly, stood from her seat, and began to clear the table.

There was no doubt in your mind that Alastor got his charm from her….

Your revelation was cut short as she absentmindedly spoke to you again, "Pay your father a visit before you settle in. I'm sure he'd like to see you…he comes by often asking about you two a lot these days.."

You stiffened at the mention of your father, recalling the last time you'd seen him.

Exactly a year ago.

The day you married Alastor…

After that, you'd barely spoken to him, not because you wished for distance but because he'd established it.

Your father may have agreed to your marriage with Alastor, but he only partially warmed up to your husband. He'd looked upon him with a hidden distaste from the very beginning of your friendship.

"Something's off about that boy…" he’d say.

Then proceed to warn you of a danger that never existed in your opinion. "You be careful around him…real careful.."

When he realized your attraction to Alastor his nagging only worsened, "He's a charmer…those are never good for anything. You remember that."

For years, his assumptions of Alastor irked you to no end; it perplexed you why he even married you off to him, but whenever you'd search for answers, he'd give the same vague answer.

"That boy isn't what he seems. Never has been and never will be.."

Frustrating as he was, you could never bring yourself to hate him for it, but the thought of having to endure his morbid company wasn’t comforting at all.

Alastor recognized the distress in your gentle features, your bright eyes narrowing at the tabletop, and your hands wringing around each other nervously.

All because of him.

Mr. L/n...

The one man who seemed to get a clue as to who and what Alastor was without anything other than a so-called ‘gut feeling’.

Alastor had tried for years to mask his true nature from him, but your father saw right through him at every encounter.

He had been and still was Alastor’s worst agitation…

Such a bothersome fool…

Your husband averted his oncoming glare to the nearest wall before wiping the disdain off his face, and reaching a hand out to caress your back. You relaxed under his firm touch, looking up to him as his thumb rubbed soothing circles into your spine, "It'll only be a short visit, my dear. We'll have the whole weekend after that…"

His smile eased your fretting, leading you to nod and smile back. "Alright… y-you'll come with me, yes?"

Absolutely not-

Alastor inwardly hushed his shadow demon, tipping his head in warning to the spectrum and forcing it to hold its tongue before it overrode his consciousness.

His smile widened, the hand on your back sliding up to cup your cheek, "Of course, mon chere. I wouldn't dream of letting you go alone.."

We should-

His shadow attempted to cut in again, but Alastor withheld its advance with a simple command.

Hush up. Now…

Fortunately, it ceased all communication, and his focus on you went unhindered.

You stood from your chair, rising on your tiptoes to peck his lips with your own, whispering against them before you pulled away.

"Thank you… Sometimes I dont know what I'd do without you…"

Alastor cursed the sharp pang that penetrated his heart as you said those words, an eerie sense of Deja vu hitting him in waves, but the uneasy feeling never showed on his face -not until you thanked his mother one last time before flurrying upstairs to freshen up.

Angelique felt her son’s mood shift, intuition leading her to ask him what was on his mind, "Something wrong?.."she mumbles calmly without ceasing in her task of cleaning.

Alastor remained silent for a long moment, watching as his mother moved on to pulling out ingredients to cook for dinner, and when she turned to face him entirely, he found the sense to speak.

"It's gettin' worse…" he confessed through a tight-lipped smile, leaning back against a wall to keep his composure, and she needed no other clues to figure out his cause for distress.

"The killing' or the magic?" She inquires, back to him, and but her voice laced with evident care.

"Both. It's getting to me..bad…more frequently.." he confesses.

Angelique hums in understanding, "Have you been hunting at all these past few weeks?.."

Alastor took his glasses off, breath coming out strained as his eyes shifted from their usual whiskey color to a redder hue.

"No. Not since…" he falters, gritting his teeth as his unruly spectral companion cut into his train of thought.

Not since you fucked her-

"I said shut the hell up…" Alastor seethed out loud, eyes screwing shut as his shadow danced onto the wall, yet his mother remained unphased by the sudden outburst.

She merely peered at the taunting shadow, causing it to cower back in her son's tall frame, "Go hunting while you're here. That'll take the edge off, but get that spirit in check before you do, or it won't end well. You hear me?"

Alastor nodded, rolling his neck to alleviate the tension in his body before recapturing his shadow and flashing his mother an understanding smile.

Her advice was final, a direct warning to him, and it garnered a welcomed sense of control over his frazzled behavior.

His smile lost its crazed edge, drawing into a polite smirk as he peered at her expectantly.

"Do you happen to have my old hunting gear lying around?.."

She turned towards the stove, not affected by his sudden personality switch by any means, and simply motioned a hand upstairs before answering him, "In your father's old study. Right where you left it, behind the bookshelf…."

Alastor perked up, grinning wide as the memory of his last hunting spree crossed his mind, "Merci, mother." He thanked her, walking over to kiss her cheek before exiting the homely kitchen while humming a new tune as he strode up the steps with newfound confidence.

Tonight, he'd look for prey…

How he'd satiate his shadow's pesky intrusions was a matter he'd have to solve later.

Although, if the way it constantly became hyperactive at the mere mention or sight of you had anything to do with it Alastor was certain you were the solution to the problem.

+++++

The visit with your father went as you expected it to go.

He welcomed you with open arms and a tender smile, but when he saw Alastor climbing the marble steps of your family’s estate, his cordial behavior waned.

“I see you’ve brought him along…” he made no effort to hide the distaste in his tone as Alastor reached your side.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again as well Mr, L/n…” Your husband remained polite as always, masking his hatred for the man with a practiced facade of kindness.

Alastor became more affectionate towards you in his presence, going so far as to kiss the top of your head and wrapping an arm around your waist protectively, making every effort to keep you close throughout the tense reunion.

Your father clearly did not take a liking to his indirect aggravations it at all…

Yet, he said nothing on the matter, cutting your visit short with the tired excuse of having an 'important engagement' he needed to attend to.

So, in under an hour of resisting your childhood home, you found yourself walking back through the secret trail you and Alastor had paved years ago to commute across, and with each step, you felt more at ease.

You weren't quick to anger, but your father's jabs towards Alastor never ceased to ruin your mood. Thankfully, your husband seemed more eclectic than when you'd arrived in the countryside, and that, in turn, brightened your previously somber spirits.

Alastor held your arm under his as the two of you trekked along the path, going over small hills, thin creeks, and finally through a line of forestry bordering his mother's home.

The sun was beginning to set as you entered the forest end of your journey. The warm summer wind becoming a bit chilly as it whipped through the large willow and evergreen trees. Alastor kept you close, better acquainted with the woods than you were, but not because he'd memorized the path from childhood.

No, his memory of it stemmed from the many bloody escapades he'd enjoyed there and intended to continue sooner rather than later…

All for a rush, for the flesh, for the undisputed thrill.

Even now he couldn't stop grinning, thinking about it, failing to dampen his excitement as he led you both through the darkening woods.

You glanced up at him, happy to see Alastor so content despite your awful encounter with your father, "I apologize for him… he's…" you paused, trying to find the right words to describe your father's behavior, but he beat you to it with a gentle laugh.

"A cynical old man who believes that I'm no good for you?"

His voice held an edge, but you took the comment as playful heat and not as a harmful insult the way Alastor intended it to sound.

You couldn’t blame him for feeling spiteful about the whole ordeal…

He had every right to be unnerved…

A tender sigh slipped past your lips, and you nodded in agreement as he glanced down at you, "A spot-on depiction…not a pretty one either.." Alastor chuckled, shaking his head dismissively as he reassured you he took no offense to your father's dislike of him.

Though it was somewhat justified.

"Don't you worry yourself about him, my dear. I have you, and he can do nothing about it…"

Not a fucking thing…

You peered up at Alastor, noting the unwavering smile on his face as he spoke, but the glare in his eyes said he felt anything but indifference about the situation.

That worried you…scared you a little…

"Al…" you whispered, halting in your tracks and causing him to do the same. Your brows furrowed as he lowered his head, his breaths becoming heavy as his hold on your arm grew harder, but not enough to harm you.

His smile only grew as you muttered again, "Alastor, …look at me…" your words as tender as ever as you turned on your heel to face him head-on.

Alastor's eyes twitched as you came close, flashing red when you cupped his face with both hands and dipped your head to gain proper eye contact with him.

Concern was written all over you face…

You tried to decipher Alastor’s expression, ignoring the chill running down your spine as his gaze hardened while the air around you grew stiffer by the second.

Was he angry?

It felt as if he were but something in his unwavering stare told you this emotion surpassed that, and you couldn't deny how intensely it radiated off him as he slowly tilted his head at you.

Possessiveness.

Pure, unbridled need for dominance.

Whether it was over you or his state of mind remained unclear as he took a step forward. You made no effort to back away, letting Alastor tower over you, and not once breaking eye contact with him.

“Alastor…you can tell me-“

The comforting words died on your tongue when he jerked you into his chest, large hands finding your wrists as the heated kiss he initiated silenced the surprised yelp that left your lips as they melded with his.

You eyes drifted shut as he deepened the exchange, gradually relenting your body control over to him as he guided your arms to wrap around his neck. Alastor shifted his hold on your wrists to trace down your sides, the ghost like touch sending a shock through you immediately.

He smiled at your skittish reaction, oddly calmer than he was a moment before as he dared to pull similar responses from you. His skilled tongue delved into you mouth, inviting yours to play along while he leveraged his larger frame against your smaller one. You obediently stepped back as he pressed forward, subtly flinching as your backside hit the bark of the nearest tree, yet the scratch of wood on your covered skin failed to bother you as the kiss became feverish.

Desperate…

Alastor was desperate for something…

For what you weren’t certain, unable to think straight when he had you pinned against a decaying evergreen, stealing your breath away with ease, only pulling away from your lips to catch his own breath.

You quietly panted for air as well, blood rushing to your head from the sound of his have breathing mixing with the distant chirps of crickets harmonizing alongside buzzing cicadas.

The wind seemed to lose its chill as it passed between the nonexistent space separating you both.

Alastor held you still in that moment, one hand at the back of your neck to keep your head raised towards his, and the other resting under your chin. His thumb traced over your now spit slick lips, brown eyes following the slight tremble in them as you continued to pant for air.

Oh, how he adored your eagerness to please him. Always so desperate for more of him and never quite aware of your own greediness for his undivided affection.

“What is there for me to tell you, ma chère…?” The words thundered in his chest, almost a low hum in the midst of the surrounding wilderness, but you heard him clear enough.

“How you truly feel….whats behind that smile you fight so hard to maintain.” You gulp down the anxiety trying to creep its way into your tone, inhaling sharply as he pushed a knee between your thighs, and your train of thought came to a halt feeling him put pressure on your thinly covered cunt.

You knew the gesture was a from of distraction on his part, an attempt to avert your attention from the uneasy shift in his mood, and though you wanted to push him back and demand he take your concerns seriously…

The building heat in your core advised otherwise, overriding your urge to coax an explanation from Alastor with the need to be filled by him instead, and the growing amount of stars in your eyes as he continued to toy with your body made it all the more obvious to him.

“I assure you I’m quite alright, darling“ Alastor remained true to his previous claim, smiling softly as your eyes lidded over while your hips tentatively began to rock over his thigh at a sluggish pace, and your hands unraveling from his neck to trail down his chest. The linen fabric of his shirt cooled your burning fingertips, keeping your focus clear enough for another hushed whisper to leave your lips, “Tellin’ me not lie to you but then turning around and doing it yourself…”

You paused, holding his gaze as your tongue darted out to lick at his thumb teasingly, “How is that fair, Alastor, hm?…” your voice remains quiet, the taste of his skin lingering on the tip of your tongue as the questions hangs in the air around you, and it seems to hit a nerve in him.

A flash of red illuminates his irises, smile stretching wide across his face at your seductive actions and reprimanding remarks, “Fair? Is that what you want from me, mon chere? A fair bit of truth?”

His shadow itched to enlarge, wanting nothing more than to show itself to you, and intake the delirious reaction you’d surely have to seeing its monstrous form.

Although, Alastor kept it at bay, settling with trailing the hand on your neck to tangle through your hair, tugging it just rough enough to earn a soft gasp from you, and that action alone hard your inside twisting with anticipation.

You knew he’d never harm you, never lift a finger to imply harsh treatment, but the thrill of finally experiencing a hidden side of your husbands persona had your heart racing and your cunt throbbing.

“Yes…” you whimper compliantly, hands fisting the collar of his dress shirt to tug him closer, and Alastor growled at the aggressive action.

“Careful what you ask for, sweet girl…” he warns you through gritted teeth, tempted to kiss you again as an airy giggle leaps from your mouth, “And what if I refuse to be?”

Fuck, I need her…we need her…

His shadow twitched, writhing in the waning light of the sun at your taunting, and embodying every ounce of excitement the man before you struggled to contain as the heat of your cunt gliding over his thigh persisted with every gentle buck of your hips against him.

Alastor felt his blood run hot as you pried at his self control, the corner of your lips pulling up into a knowing smile as he stared at you hungrily, and not a single drop of apprehension present in your gaze as he lowered his head to whisper in your ear.

“Then I suppose I’m left with no other choice than to remind you what happens to curious little cats, my dear…”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxx xxx

Idk if I hate or love this chapter…like I’m so used to writing smut that writing angst or fluff feels so dreadful to me. Plus, you guys liked the first part so much I didn’t want to fuck this up…I promise the next part is pure smut and gore lol. This was essentially a filler part (I’m sorry)… ❤️ also did you guys catch the Princess and the Frog reference I threw in?!? If you did then I freakin adore you hehehe ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I’d cry, scream, fucking beg for this man…it’s fucking ridiculous how much I love him tbhhhh ❤️ credit to creator

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Toto Wolff with wife. She accompanied him to the award event (idm what is it). Whenever his gaze landed on her, he was just having lovey dovey eyes and couldn't seem to tear it away. She was the same as him. Proud of his achievements. Everyone could see that. Up to you. Fluff and maybe suggestive. Thanks!! :))

Hii guys, I hope you enjoy this request :)

As the doors of the lavish ballroom swing open, you find yourself momentarily overwhelmed by the grandeur of the FIA’s annual award ceremony. Crystal chandeliers hang like glittering constellations from the high ceilings, and the walls are adorned with rich tapestries and golden accents. Soft music plays in the background, mingling with the hum of excited conversation and the occasional clink of champagne flutes. It's a world of luxury and elegance, and yet every year, you feel a sense of wonder stepping into this magical evening.

Toto squeezes your hand gently, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes, filled with warmth and a hint of mischief, sparkle under the dimmed lights. “Look, mein Liebling,” he says, his voice a deep, soothing rumble that you can’t get enough of. “George and Carmen are over there. Let’s go and say hi.”

You nod, smiling, and allow him to guide you through the crowd. He moves with a confidence that draws the eye, effortlessly navigating the sea of glamorous attendees. You catch sight of George and Carmen near a grand piano, both looking elegant and happy. George is dashing in his tuxedo, his bright smile reflecting his successful season, while Carmen is stunning in a flowing emerald gown that compliments her radiant features.

As you approach, Carmen spots you first and waves, her face lighting up with delight. "Hey, you two!" she calls out, pulling you into a warm hug. George follows suit, shaking Toto’s hand enthusiastically.

“It’s so good to see you both,” you say, returning Carmen’s hug. “You look amazing, Carmen. And George, congratulations on your incredible season. You’ve really made a mark!”

“Thanks!” George grins, his cheeks flushing slightly with modesty. “It’s been a great year, and I couldn’t have done it without all the support from Carmen and the team. And speaking of amazing, look at you two! Always the power couple, aren’t you?”

Toto laughs, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “We just try to keep up with the younger ones,” he teases, casting you a loving glance that sends a flutter through your heart.

Just as you’re about to reply, a well-dressed official from the FIA approaches, his expression politely urgent. “Excuse me, Mr. Wolff,” he interjects, “we need you for a moment to discuss the agenda for tonight’s ceremony.”

Toto nods, his eyes still locked on yours. “Of course,” he says. Then, without hesitation, he leans down and presses a tender kiss to your lips, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. When he pulls back, his thumb brushes lightly across your cheek. “I’ll be right back, mein Schatz.”

You watch him go, unable to tear your gaze away as he moves through the crowd with that characteristic grace. Even as he engages in a serious conversation with the FIA official, his eyes flick back to you every few moments, a silent promise in his gaze.

George chuckles, noticing the exchange. “You two,” he says, shaking his head in amusement. “Honestly, it’s like watching a romantic movie. You’re so obviously in love, it’s adorable.”

Carmen nods in agreement, her smile soft and genuine. “It’s true. The way you look at each other, it’s like nothing else matters. It’s really beautiful to see.”

You feel your cheeks warm, a shy smile playing on your lips. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I guess when you’ve found the right person, everything else just fades away.”

Carmen squeezes your arm affectionately. “We’re all lucky to have found that, aren’t we?”

Just then, you notice Toto making his way back to you, his conversation with the FIA official apparently finished. As he approaches, his eyes never leave yours, and you feel a magnetic pull drawing you to him.

“Sorry about that,” he murmurs when he reaches you, his arm immediately sliding around your waist again. “Didn’t mean to leave you for too long.”

You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “It’s alright. You’re here now.”

He smiles down at you, his expression soft and full of affection. “Always.”

George and Carmen exchange a knowing glance, their smiles widening. “And there it is again,” George laughs. “Completely head over heels.”

Toto just chuckles, his gaze still fixed on you. “Guilty as charged,” he admits, his voice low and playful. “But can you blame me?”

You laugh, your heart swelling with love for this man who has captured every part of you. “No, I can’t. Because I feel the same way.”

As the lights dim slightly, signaling that the ceremony is about to begin, Toto gently guides you to your seats. You settle in beside him, his hand finding yours once more under the table. As the host takes the stage and the room quiets down, you lean in close, whispering in his ear.

“I’m so glad we’re here together.”

He turns his head, his lips brushing your temple as he murmurs back, “So am I, mein Liebling. So am I.”

The ceremony starts, but all you can think about is how lucky you are to have him by your side, and how, in moments like this, the rest of the world seems to fade away.

[hoursofreading]

Supporters, luckily, were as determined as opponents. Mothers such as Trixie Pearson’s, a widow, endured real poverty to educate their daughters. A touching number of “grants” and “scholarships” that suddenly materialized were found only later to have come from teachers’ own pockets. The nuns at the convent school where Daphne Hanschell was a pupil in the 1920s decided to put her in for Oxford, telling her nothing until the day of the exam, when they promised that “the Holy Ghost will fix it”. It did. Edith Wood’s father, who refused permission for her to take up a place she had been awarded, was summoned to an interview with her headmistress, after which he did as he was told.  The women who arrived at colleges by way of such random circumstances were a more socially mixed group than existed perhaps anywhere else at the time in Britain. The first female graduates from King’s College London, included, among students from professional families, a laborer’s daughter, a shopkeeper’s daughter reading classics and, top of her year, a hatter’s daughter from Crystal Palace. The experience was new for everyone, and not always easy; illness and homesickness, as well as women who were simply bored or, could not fit in. They were a minority. For most, at a period when the only alternative was to be at home until they married, education offered intellectual companionship and personal privacy. Katie Dixon at Newnham remembered lying by the fire reading Aeschylus:  “I remember many a winter evening with a roaring little fire… a vast lexicon lying on my middle and a play of Aeschylus or what not in my hands. The silence, the being alone and knowing everyone else was at it, in the same way, seemed to give one a great push on.” That fusion of independence and camaraderie was crucial. Bright young women could make their own way with confidence because they were no longer isolated. They have been forging ahead ever since.

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[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Why do people still use Hilary Mantel’s words against Kate? Hilary Mantel defended her words saying she was taken out of context:

https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-21710158.amp

"My lecture and the subsequent essay was actually supportive of the Royal Family and when I used those words about the Duchess of Cambridge, I was describing the perception of her which has been set up in the tabloid press.

"My speech ended with a plea to the press and to the media in general. I said 'back off and don't be brutes; don't do to this young woman what you did to Diana'.

"My whole theme was the way we maltreat royal persons, making them one superhuman, and yet less than human."

Mantel, whose latest novels are set in the royal court in Tudor times, said she believed she had been "set up" as a hate figure.

"I don't believe for one moment that there was any lack of clarity, after all, I have been practising my trade for a number of years now," she said.

"It was a matter of taking the words completely out of context - twisting the context - and setting me up as a hate figure.

"I have absolutely no regrets. What I said was crystal clear."

Mantel, who won the Costa Book of the Year Award for Bring Up The Bodies. added: "I do think that the Duchess of Cambridge is an intelligent young woman who, if she cares to read my essay, will see that I meant nothing but good to her."

I actually haven’t read the full essay because I can’t find it, so to those who have read the full essay, what was the context of what Hilary Mantel said?

The full essay is hard to find because it wasn’t actually a published essay, not at first. It was a lecture she gave, later recorded and published, called Royal Bodies, about media’s treatment of women. It’s an oral history of how famous royal women - Kate, Diana, Marie Antoinette, and Anne Boleyn - were portrayed and used by the media.

Mantel may have meant well and to be supportive, but it came off condescending and uppity. For example:

“Antoinette as a royal consort was a gliding, smiling disaster, much like Diana in another time and another country. But Kate Middleton, as she was, appeared to have been designed by a committee and built by craftsmen, with a perfect plastic smile and the spindles of her limbs hand-turned and gloss-varnished.”

“Presumably Kate was designed to breed in some manners. She looks like a nicely brought up young lady, with ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ part of her vocabulary. But in her first official portrait by Paul Emsley, unveiled in January, her eyes are dead and she wears the strained smile of a woman who really wants to tell the painter to bugger off.”

“She appears precision-made, machine-made, so different from Diana whose human awkwardness and emotional incontinence showed in her every gesture. Diana was capable of transforming herself from galumphing schoolgirl to ice queen, from wraith to Amazon. Kate seems capable of going from perfect bride to perfect mother, with no messy deviation.”

And the issue that many of us have with this lecture is that Mantel could have made her points without having to use Kate’s beauty, character, and mannerisms. Because if her theme was about the way the public and the media mistreat the royals - young royal women especially - and she was pleading for people and press not to do that, then why choose to focus on the women themselves? Focus on the media’s behavior instead; since you’re calling out the media, call out the frigging media. Leave the women and their bodies out of it.

She did to Kate in this speech exactly what she’s lecturing the public and the media not to do to Kate: turned her into a thing for which to criticize instead of leaving her to be her own person.

And Mantel can’t see that. She thinks she was taken out of context - and to a certain extent, yes, I agree she was - but when you spend several paragraphs drawing an image of a committee grooming Kate into a Royal Woman 2.0 after the Diana Experiment failed…did we really take you out of context or did you not make your point and now you’re uncomfortable that people are calling you out for the same misogyny you tried to shame the media for?

I mean, someone who justifies these comments by saying she’s a published author so she knows what she’s doing sounds a little like someone who’s very uncomfortable with the mirror that critics are forcing her to look into. Because again, if your whole argument is to take the media to task for how they portray a royal woman, which informs the public’s perception of her, then don’t use the woman to make your point.

Anyway. Here’s the full lecture. You can decide for yourself how badly Mantel was taken out of context or if the criticism is justified.

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[striders]

i had to go on a work trip earlier this year after winning an award and had to dress extremely fancy for an event and after going up approximately 6 to 8 sets of escalators in the worlds most uncomfortable gown we were all queued up waiting to be let into the giant corpo event space and while i was sweating bullets worried about being mildly to moderately drunk in a ballroom full of rich businesspeople i realized the person directly in front of me had a full-back tattoo of gir from invader zim. and in that moment the realization crystallized in my mind that nothing is ever as fancy and unapproachable as it seems

[bangtanhoneys]

BTS WEDDING SERIES: Ceremony Time!

SEOKJIN

He had drunk about six bottles of water, one glass of whiskey, had made around ten trips to the bathroom and walked seven laps around Yoongi’s hotel bedroom while he waited for the time to tick. It hadn’t taken long to put on his designer suit, hadn’t taken too long for the make up and hair stylist to do what they needed to do, photographs and videos to be taken and it hadn’t even taken that long to get downstairs to the garden where the ceremony was going to take place 

While Seokjin had been used to waiting around for award ceremonies, photoshoots, recordings and the like, this time it was completely different. Waiting for the woman of his dreams to walk down the aisle as the pianist played generic music in the background was causing anxiety levels to be kicked up to the max. 

Waiting and waiting. 

All eyes of the guests were on him, even as he stood up there with his six brothers and his actual older brother. There were excited murmurs over what was going to be the first BTS wedding and what he, as the eldest, was going to pull off. 

He turned his back, as instructed by the officiant, to the aisle and stared straight ahead as he clasped his hands to the front. The music slowly changed to an instrumental version of his own song, Epiphany, something you had picked personally. He could hear the lyrics flow through his head as the pianist played the chorus. 

He could hear the gasps, could hear the whispers, could feel his brother gently nudge his arm but he didn’t turn. Not until he felt your hand slip into his, fingers locking together, a promise of a lifetime, that he finally turned to smile at you.

“Ready?” you asked, grip tightening.

“For you? I’ll wait a lifetime.”

YOONGI

The fact he had married you only days before had settled his nerves. However, doing a semi-formal traditional Korean ceremony in front of everyone made every hair stand on end and it didn’t help that all morning he had nothing but teasing from the guys, how he was marrying you all over again even though you were already married. 

And of course, he swore he wouldn’t cry but the sight of you in your dress made him swallow hard and blink a few times to keep said tears at bay. 

Throughout the whole ceremony, he kept one eye on you and one eye on the MC before him. The wording and the bowing and the drinking of the wine flowed over his head like it was nothing - he just wanted to get to the end where in the eyes of his Korean family, you two were finally husband and wife. 

A loud cheer made the world settle into place and he cupped your face, that loveable gummy smile on display and kissed your forehead. “Fully and completely mine now,” he said as he kept his forehead against your own.

“In the legal sense, Korean sense, BTS sense,” you replied with a small laugh as the congratulations flowed around you but you could see nothing but your groom in front of you and a long future ahead. 

As he had once said, the future's going to be okay. 

HOSEOK

“Hobi-hyung, you’re going to run out of tissues before she even gets here,” Jungkook scolded as he handed over a new pack to the man who had taken one look at the ceremony area and had promptly burst into tears. 

And it happened again as they all stood at the top of the aisle, waiting for your appearance. 

There were no words said when six handkerchiefs were passed down the line, ending up in Hobi’s hands. And no more words were said when his mother gently hugged him, whispered in his ear how beautiful you looked and no more words were said when the music finally changed.

He gasped as the 20,000 Swarovski crystals from the high ceiling of the cavernous ballroom sparkled along with the bodice of your dress. The bright flowers in the bouquet matching the wedding decor that you had carefully picked and how every thought and idea had gone into creating the wedding of your dreams. 

Hobi hadn’t realised you were in front of him until he felt your hands on his face, wiping the stains of his tears away. He pressed his lips to your knuckles once he took hold of your hands and looked straight into your eyes, as if there were no one else in the room. 

“I’m all yours now, my love.”

“I’m all yours as well, my hope.”

NAMJOON

It was becoming a bit of a running joke that morning as Jimin pointed to Namjoon’s smiling face and nudged Seokjin in the ribs. “He’s on cloud nine over there,” the mochi muttered with a giggle as the leader in question smiled at a guest who had congratulated him on his upcoming nuptials. 

“At least he isn’t nervous,” Yoongi sighed as he called at Namjoon for forgetting his tie. 

He wasn’t nervous, not in the slightest. He was marrying you in front of all your family and friends, ignoring the fact that there were also famous idols, celebrities, famous American singers and politicians in the guests numbers. If anything, he was a bubbling ball of happiness that had to be pulled down to earth when he was reminded it was time to get him married. 

It was as if being the leader of BTS had prepared him for this moment - the professional cameras in his face, the amount of people there to watch him finally marry the love of his life, the little hint of security around the area to stop anyone getting in, how he could keep calm in the face of it all and simply stand there, turned towards the aisle. 

Dimples were on complete show as he watched the bridesmaids walk down, stand on the other side of the aisle and he let out a deep breath when finally you appeared, looking gorgeous in the dress you had chosen to match the theme and the bouquet of flowers in ivory with more greenery than necessary to match. 

“At least you didn’t get lost on the way,” you gently teased as your fingers grasped his and squeezed.

“I’d always find you anyway.”

JIMIN

He had been a constant ball of nerves since he woke up that morning. Pure adrenaline was fueling him when he opened the curtains to his hotel room and went through his mental checklist for the day - meet the boys in half an hour, shower, change, meet photographers, meet the guests, go over everything with the wedding co-ordinator, make sure you were ready by checking with your sister, get to the aisle, get married, party. 

It repeated over and over in his head while he let his Yoongi-hyung finish the knot on his tie and made sure the wedding rings were in Taehyung’s pocket. He let his Namjoon-hyung check over his speech and got a thumbs up in return and watched as Jungkook, Jin-hyung and Hobi-hyung run errands between the two rooms. 

By the time they all got to the room, the guests were starting to arrive while oohing over the decor. Pink and gold, matching flowers on stands going down the aisle, a backdrop of white material with pink draping and gold clasps. 

“Here we go,” Jimin breathed and took the tissue Taehyung handed him, without realising he had been crying. There were many doubts and thoughts that made him think you weren’t going to show up but that all drifted away when the familiar tune of ‘Wedding Day’ by Taeyang was played on piano. 

Bridesmaids in gold dresses, drifted down with their pink flowers and the last one revealed you at the end in your light pink wedding dress. Doubts, thoughts, worries and issues were swept away with each step you took. Eyes caught yours, pinky fingers grasped together and you both turned to commit to a lifetime of promises. 

TAEHYUNG

The Ballroom was ready to go having been dressed the night before by the team in the theme you both had requested - red roses, glass and silver glitter. Attention to detail like never before and the theme had followed over in the room down the hallway, in the Le Grand Trianon where they had managed to squeeze in everyone. 

Celebrities, fashion designers, artists, idols, had taken every seat possible that hadn’t been reserved for your family. Everything had run smoothly from the moment he got up to the moment he put on his black dinner suit, long fingers coming up to fiddle with the bow tie until Namjoon-hyung gently slapped his fingers away for the fiftieth time. 

The red rose on his lapel had been sprayed with your perfume and he took a quick sniff, letting the floral scent wash over him while he listened to everyone talk in the background. He had no worries of you not turning up, of you not saying yes. But the longer it was taking the more he started to get worried. 

Maybe you had changed your mind the moment you saw the guests arriving. 

Yet, out of the corner of his eye, the wedding team gave a nod to the band where the saxophonist stood up. The beginning notes of Can’t Help Falling in Love played as the doors opened to reveal you in your art-deco themed wedding dress, a large bunch of red roses and baby breath held in your hand as your father walked you down the aisle. 

Your hands reached his, fingers twisting together as your eyes met as the lyrics came to mind ‘Take my hand, take my whole life to. For I can’t help, falling in love with you.’ That verse summed up perfectly the two of you as the saxophone played out the last notes. 

“Ready?” Taehyung asked, grinning while squeezing your fingers. 

“For the rest of my whole life.”

JUNGKOOK

Jungkook was vibing with excited nerves. He could hardly keep still even when the long arms of his Seokjin-hyung wrapped around him when he woke up in the morning, having spent the evening in the room with his two hyungs. Yoongi contently sleeping in the other bed, unaware of the chaos that would be brewing in the youngest.

They had kept him somewhat calm as he showered, got ready, and talked to his parents and his brother. Bam, dressed in a little bow tie, wagged his tail happily against Jungkook’s parents as the make up artist and hairstylist turned him into the idol JK. He would be Jungkook for his vows, but for now the idol persona swept in. 

The sound of the Busan sea let him breathe finally as he followed his parents and his hyungs out of the room, towards the garden where the chairs had been laid and the wedding decor of white flowers, hints of black and purple peeking through especially on the arch that been set up at the end of the aisle. 

The general music played around them as the guests started coming down the steps, heading towards the allocated seats. 

“You ready?” Seokjin asked, reaching over to give the golden maknae a quick squeeze on his shoulder. 

“Ready,” Jungkook nodded, though now he could feel the nerves. 

His three friends from the 97s group, Mingyu from Seventeen, Eun-woo from Astro and Yugeom from GOT7 sat at the side of the wedding ceremony area with a small band that had been secured through Big Hit. All three of them waved when they caught Jungkook’s eye.

There was silence for a moment as the wedding co-ordinator gave the nod to the officiant who nodded at the boys and slowly the beats from 10,000 Hours written by Dan + Shay with Justin Bieber began to play with the three idols singing. 

A tissue was pressed into his hand and Jungkook realised he was crying, his knees getting weak as Mingyu sang Justin Bieber’s part just as you started to walk down the aisle in your ivory dress and white flowers. 

“I’m gonna love you,” he sang quietly underneath his breath once you reached his side, realising you were crying just as much as he was. He pressed his side against yours, hands slipping into a tight grasp as the singing finished.

It was time.