#how to write a lemon scene

[youneedsomeprompts]

Hiii! I am starting to write more smut/NSFW in my fics and I don't know exactly how to write them differently while not being to graphic

Any ideas? Thank you dear! ☺️

Heyy! I made a post about How to write a smut scene a little while ago. I also just reblogged it, so it's easier to find on my blog. I hope this is what you meant :) Otherwise, I could maybe do another one that focuses even more on a less graphic way to write smut, if there is interest :)

[witheredgardenparty]

Drowning myself a bit in the concept of a yandere who prides himself on being the boogeyman of underground circles but as soon as he is face-to-face with his darling, dissolves into a bumbling mess of graceless stammering and cumbersome limbs. A tripping-over-air, tongue-tied loser who has lost all sense of cool.

In the witching hours, he is a deadly force with unyielding claws and nimble words. The daylight finds him kneeling at the alter of your every spoken phrase.

What a blessing that darling is gracious to this poor helpless sap. Such a "harmless", if occasionally clumsy fellow. And -- oh! You dropped all of your papers! Here, let me help! No, really, it's no problem. (Did he just sniff my hair? No, I must have imagined that... right?)

To the other monsters that roam the shadows, he is a heartless, shapeless void of terror. To speak the dread name is to summon him and whatever fate the wheel so spins that day.

To you, he is a perfect gentleman. A, perhaps slightly, awkward acquaintance who could never hurt a fly. Literally. You think he might be a little afraid of bugs?

You cannot help but notice things have been changing since your new friend has shown up, though. New movements in the neighborhood. Not bad necessarily, but different.

That asshole next door has definitely been treating you nicer. Suspiciously nicer. And these numbers on your bills... have they gone down? You will have to call the bank to ask about it. You are pretty sure you owe more than this.

As soon as you figure out what happened to your favorite sweater...

[evilkaeya]

love when i give a piece of media my 110% attention and still walk out confused

[bengallemon]

what if we wrote a psychological horror mystery novel disguised as gay fanfiction for a niche turn-based jrpg that got forgotten almost immediately by its publishers despite how well it sold

[bubblyi3]

Residuals PROLOGUE | JJK

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: childhood best friends, lovers to enemies to strangers, fratboy!jungkook, heartbreak, uni!au

word count: 1.6k

content warning: angst, mild smut, mild languages

summary: jungkook used to be your everything. your best friend, your first love. but you both grew up and grew apart. he’s now the campus heartbreaker, a cocky frat boy who runs with the worst crowd. when a cruel dare asks him to destroy you just for the fun of it. everything shatters. trust. hearts. and maybe the chance to ever put it back together.

author's note: hihihihi! i know i said i’d be working on cigarettes and clementines, but i might kick this one off first. because... why not? i feel like it lol

and yesss this is an overused concept but i thought it would be fun to write one myself:)

taglist is open for this one, so if you wanna be added, just drop a comment! <3 this one’s set in south korea, but i’ll be mixing in stuff from other countries/states too. it’s fiction so i’m just gonna have fun with it and see where it goes :)

© disclaimer: please do not copy, translate or reproduce any part of this work without my permission. thank you!

playlist:

back to friends - sombr

do i wanna know - hozier (cover)

all too well - taylor swift

love goes - sam smith & labrinth

nights like this - the kid laroi

PART 1 || PART 2

You were born just four weeks apart.

Your mothers were inseparable since high school. Raised you both more like siblings than friends. Jungkook was there for every birthday, every scraped knee, every first day of school. When you got your period for the first time, he brought you a whole ass cake because he thought that's what people did for "milestones". When his first dog died in the nineth grade, you snuck into his room through the window and lay beside him while he cried into your hoodie.

And when you turned sixteen and got dumped at prom, Jungkook kissed you for the first time. He tasted like lemon soda, which was your favorite. His lips were hesitant, soft and trembling.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"I am now."

That night, neither of you said anything more, but something shifted.

It stayed like that for a while . Late-night texts turned into staying on the phone until one of you passed out. Sleepovers turned into sharing the same bed, breathing the same air, talking about everything and nothing in the dark.

He said it once, at seventeen. "I like you. Like... more than friends."

You laughed. Not because you didn't feel the same (God, you did), but because it scared the hell out of you. So much of your world had him in it. If you lost him, you'd lose your home. He is home.

Still, you kissed him back. Again and again.

None of you put any labels on it. You just thought that being the best of friends with Jungkook was enough. You didn't define it. You didn't need to. It was just you and him. It always had been. But friends don't kiss friends and they sure as hell don't hold each other like that.

Until university.

It started slow. You both got into the same university, just different majors. Jungkook chose Film Production and Media Communications. No surprise there, given his passion for visual storytelling that had burned bright since he was five. You remembered how fascinated he was with cameras and everything behind the scenes. Vivid memories of him pestering you to be his muse when he got his first video camera for his fifteenth birthday still lingered. Of course, you were happy to help. After all, Jungkook was your best friend even if you pretended to be annoyed at first.

Through his studies, he met new people and made many friends. Friends of friends, mutual connections. That’s how you came to know the group. Seven guys, including Jungkook, who were practically inseparable.

First time meeting Jungkook's friends, he introduced you to them as a good friend. He was honest with them about you being like a little sister to him. They all thought it was cute. Until one of them, who smile looked like it was made of sunshine, and an unmatched stage presence. Asked Jungkook for permission if he got the green light to sleep with you. You stared at him in disbelief, and Jungkook simply nodded in your direction, his expression cold and indifferent.

“By all means,” he said, earning amused grins from the group.

All you could manage before storming off was something between “fuck off” and “you’re fucking disgusting.” You don’t even remember which. Maybe you said both.

By second year of uni, he decided to join a frat, along with the rest of the guys. You, on the other hand, had no interest in sororities. You were focused on your business assignments and staying close to the small circle of friends you've made along the way.

As time passed, Jungkook partied more and texted less. Still, every time your parents called to check in, they'd ask about him too. Sometimes, those calls turned into full-on video chats. You, Jungkook, his parents, and yours. Like one big, blended family that hadn't quite realized how much had changed.

One Sunday evening, the screen filled with familiar faces. Your mum in her kitchen apron, his dad already with a glass of wine in hand, and Jungkook, hoodie tossed on, hair messy from either sleep or editing. It was hard to tell.

"Jungkook!" his mum smiled, eyes bright.

"Have you been keeping up with classes? That film project you mentioned last time?"

He grinned, the picture of effortless charm. "Yeah! I just wrapped up my final project. A short docu on campus creatives. Got really good feedback from my lecturer."

You couldn’t help but be amused when you heard that. You knew Jungkook had been filming around campus for his project, but you never imagined he could handle both the filming and the editing. Especially with how often he partied. You had to admit, you underestimated him. Still, no matter what, to you, Jungkook was still a piece of shit of a friend.

"That's our son!" his dad added, proud.

"Directing the next big movie, huh?"

You smiled politely as your parents chimed in with compliments. But you already knew Jungkook was thriving. Film had always lit him up in a way few things could. Even if he no longer shared that part of himself with you the way he used to.

Then came the question that changed the air in the room.

"And you're looking after Y/n, right?" his mum asked gently.

"Walking her to her dorm, checking in, making sure she's not overworking again?"

Your dad chuckled, "She's buried in business case studies. Needs someone to pull her away from that laptop."

There was a pause. The kind you feel more than hear.

You looked at Jungkook on the screen and for a fleeting moment, it felt like he was looking right back at you.

Then came the lie.

"Yeah, of course. I've been helping her with that marketing presentation," he said smoothly, "we meet up at the library once a week. She's doing great."

"Yeah, Jungkook's a great help." You said. Your lips then tightened into a soft smile you didn't mean.

Because that wasn't true. You'd been working on your own. Pulling late nights with your friends in the study lounge, quietly wondering if he’d even noticed your absence. Meanwhile, he was off doing God knows what.

"That's so sweet," your mum replied. "You've always been good to her."

Jungkook nodded casually, brushing hair from his eyes. “She’s got my back too.”

The call moved on, laughter returning like nothing had happened. But in that quiet space inside you. The one he used to fill so easily. Something cracked just a little.

He wasn’t lying to them.

He was lying for them.

And maybe a little to himself too.

Then suddenly, it wasn't slow at all.

He stopped calling. Started passing each other on campus like strangers, not even a nod. Apparently, Jungkook was too cool for you now.

He even missed your twenty first birthday.

And the next time you saw him, he was laughing with his "brothers", arms slung around some girl you didn't recognize. Completely oblivious to the way your stomach dropped when you caught his eye, and he looked right through you.

Two weeks later, your close uni friend Hana showed you a photo that he was in. It was of him. A girl. His hand up her shirt. Tongue in her mouth.

You stared at the screen until your vision blurred, then dropped your phone like it burned.

The night you finally confronted him was supposed to give you closure.

Instead, it gave you scars.

You didn't expect him to be sober, he wasn't. You didn't expect him to smile at you, he didn't. But you hoped, deep down that he'd say something. That the boy who kissed your forehead and called you "star girl" hadn't completely disappeared.

He was leaning against the wall of some house party that went around campus. Drink in his hand, shirt unbuttoned just enough to piss you off. A glint from his lip caught your eye. A fresh piercing, one you hadn’t seen before, and his sleeve was inked with new tattoos, still bold against his skin. You hate how irresistible he looked, given the heartache and confusion he's caused you.

"Jungkook."

He looked up, eyes hazy, jaw tense. "What are you doing here?"

Your throat tightened. "What the hell happened to you?"

He snorted. "What do you mean?"

"This." You motioned to everything. "This isn't you. You're not... this."

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with something bitter. "Maybe this is me. Maybe I just stopped pretending."

You swallowed hard. "No. You're running."

"From what?"

"From us," you shouted. But it came out barely louder than a whisper.

There was silence and for a moment, just a breath. Something flickered in his eyes. Maybe it was regret or pain. Something real.

But then it was gone.

"There is no us," he said flatly. "There never was."

You flinched. "What about everything you said? Every promise. You-"

"I was a fucking kid," he snapped. "We both were. That shit doesn't mean anything now."

And just like that, the air between you shattered.

You couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

He turned away, disappearing into the crowd and the bass and the blur of alcohol and bad decisions. Leaving you behind like none of it ever mattered.

You couldn't sleep that night.

You wanted to hate him. You try to erase the way he held you when your parent fought for the first time, the way he used to trace both your initials on fogged-up windows, pretending he didn’t care if you noticed, even though he always did.

But hate doesn't come easy when love came first.

And no matter how many girls he sleeps with, no matter how many parties he drowns in, he'll always be the boy who painted stars on his ceiling with you.

The boy who swore you were his favorite constellation.

The boy who forgot how to look up.

[lacedwithpoetry]

────★ Damian Wayne, sugarcoated.

Damian Wayne didn’t believe in sugar-coated anything—words, intentions, pastries. His life had been made from the lean muscle of discipline and precision. His hands knew the heft of steel before they ever knew the dusting weight of flour. He had never owned an apron. Had never licked a spoon glistening with raw batter. Had never, in his wildest, most unguarded thoughts, expected to find himself on a Friday night curled beside you on the couch, his head tilted slightly toward yours, eyes narrowed not at a crime scene—but at a cake.

A very bad cake.

“Hers looks like it melted in a haunted house,” you whispered, halfway through a contestant’s tearful explanation of their frosting choices on Nailed It.

He gave a single, sharp nod. “They should be arrested.”

You giggled into your blanket. He didn’t laugh, but his smirk gave him away.

You had introduced the shows casually, flipping through Netflix one lazy night with the simple explanation: Sometimes it’s just comforting to watch people fail at fondant. And to your surprise, Damian had stayed. Not just stayed—focused. He watched baking shows like they were combat footage, arms folded, gaze critical. He dissected the contestants’ movements like they were botching a heist instead of a cupcake.

“Why would they mix meringue with that sponge?” he’d say, tone scandalized. “That’s culinary treason.”

You’d tease him for how seriously he took it, for the way he leaned forward during time countdowns like he might reach into the screen and fix the piping himself. But secretly, you adored it. It was the one place where his intensity turned domestic. Where all that sharp-edged focus softened, just a little, in the glow of your shared screen.

Sugar Rush became your Saturday ritual. You’d sit cross-legged beside him with snacks (not nearly as impressive as what was on the show, but eaten with reverence all the same), and you’d bet on which team would crack under the pressure first. He always picked the team with a strategy. You picked the team with the best vibes. And somehow, more often than not, you won.

Damian claimed it was luck. You claimed it was intuition. Either way, he started writing down which flavor combinations impressed you. You didn’t notice at first—until one afternoon, weeks later, you found a recipe card tucked between your books. Lemon earl grey with raspberry coulis. For testing. Not for your birthday.

You pressed the card to your chest and grinned for an hour straight.

He’d never admit it, but Damian liked these shows. Not because he cared about buttercream rosettes or gold-leaf garnishes. No, he liked the way your head tilted into his shoulder during judging rounds. The way your laugh tangled with the clumsy sound of collapsing cakes. The way, in a life made of secrets and scars, he could sit here—no mask, no mission—and exist in a space where the stakes were low and the rewards were sweet.

He didn’t crave sugar. But he craved this.

You, in your coziest hoodie, gasping in horror at fondant disasters. The warmth of a throw blanket pulled halfway over his legs. The smell of kettle corn and your shampoo. And the feeling—new, foreign, addicting—that even if everything else in the world crumbled like an overbaked sponge, this would still be here.

Soft. Safe. Sweet.

Like something out of a baking show. But better. Real. His.

And maybe—just maybe—he’d let you teach him how to make those raspberry macarons after all.

[pathologicalreid]

hi!!! totally up to you if you want to write it (it maybe too self indulgent ahhhhh). but i was think of bau!reader (or bau!adjacent) who has known spencer for forever and has watched him "glow up"/become more confident and is now dating him, but is now more self-conscious that he will realize that he is totally out of her league since women are now hitting on him all the time and he is able to basically flip men in the field. something like that if you get the vibe? just a girlfriend who is worried her boyfriend will outgrow her and is scared they'll breakup. feel free to ignore! love your work sm!!!

a league of your own | S.R.

as your boyfriend seemingly evolves, you grow increasingly aware of the feeling of being left behind

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst (heavy on the fluff, more like internalized angst) content warnings: in a bar but neither spencer nor reader are drinking, follows the events of 14x12 "hamelin", discusses the pronunciation of asmr word count: 1.4k a/n: self conscious reader is so important to me. this is for everyone who has a hard time naming their feelings. thank you for requesting!!

“He flipped him over the table?” You asked, raising your eyebrows as you looked up at Tara, who was talking about your boyfriend’s maneuvering of Arthur Brodie in the field. In passing, you had heard about the mark left on the suspect’s forehead, but you hadn’t heard the story of how he had gotten it – until now.

Bringing her cup to her lips, Tara nodded at you, her expression clarifying that it was as impressive as it sounded. You sighed at the newest addition to Spencer’s ever-evolving personality, it was hard not to think of them as grievances against you, but that’s what it felt like.

You looked over your shoulder to the bar, trying to scope out where he had disappeared to before you spotted a familiar mess of brown curls. From where you were standing, you could see him holding two drinks in his hands, but it wasn’t until he shifted his stance that you saw the girl that he was speaking with. “And that’s three,” Luke observed, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched the same scene as you.

Emily asked what he was talking about, but you tuned them out as you watched the interaction. You already knew this was the third woman to hit on him since the team entered the bar thirty minutes ago.

There was no mistaking it, your boyfriend was easy on the eyes, and you weren’t naïve enough to try to deny that fact. Still, you were having a hard time adjusting to seeing him garner exponentially more attention from people at the bar. “You better go get your man, or she might steal him away from you,” Luke taunted, nodding his head in the direction of the bar.

“What?” Your head snapped back in the direction of the bar, eyes wide as you peered across the bar where Spencer was talking animatedly to the blonde in front of him before he looked behind himself and gestured to you, prompting you to wave timidly at the both of them.

The girl sneered in your direction before spinning on her heel and trudging away, freeing your boyfriend to return to you at the table. “They didn’t have any limes, so they put a lemon in your Shirley Temple,” Spencer said apologetically, dropping a kiss on the part of your hair as he set the glass in front of you.

Shaking your head, you smiled up at him, “That’s fine, thank you.” You told him, placing your hand on the glass and spinning it to better access the straw.

If he noticed anything odd, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to contribute to Tara and Rossi’s conversation on ASMR.

As the team continued to chat around you, you just continued spinning your glass on the oak table, becoming more and more conscious of the way your thighs stuck to the leather booth. Your eyes only flicked up when you noticed people staring at you, “What?” You asked, heart racing as you had been caught daydreaming.

The five remaining members of your team at the table were all looking at you with similar curious looks, “Rossi’s headed out. He was just saying goodbye,” Penelope said, reaching across the table and awkwardly patting your hand.

“Oh,” you responded meekly, “Have a good night. Tell Krystall I said hi.” You shifted in your seat, the sound of your legs unsticking from the seat seemingly amplified tenfold in your self-conscious state.

As Dave made his way out, Spencer gestured for you to move over so he could sit next to you. Tara got up to get in line for the restroom and Luke and Garcia weaseled their way into one of their patented bickering matches, you nearly jumped when you felt Spencer’s hand settle on your thigh. “Alright,” he muttered, turning his head to you, “What’s up with you tonight?”

Frowning, you looked up at Spencer, brown eyes studying your face as he hunted for even the slightest hint of what had gotten into you. The only problem was you didn’t have a name for it yourself. It could be perceived as jealousy, but you weren’t concerned with anyone actually taking Spencer’s attention away from you, you were just feeling feelings. Unnamable feelings.

You brought your glass closer to you, the condensation being a welcome relief on your warm skin, pinching the straw as you took a sip of your drink. “Nothing’s up,” you said, stirring the lemon wedge around in your glass.

“Are you sure? You look flushed,” he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully before he gently pushed his water in your direction.

Brushing off his concern, you turned your attention to watching Luke and Garcia in an animated discussion on how to pronounce ASMR – Penelope insisted she was right, and Luke didn’t necessarily care either way. You only moved your gaze when the blonde from earlier passed by again, dragging her palm over Spencer’s shoulder, causing him to lean into you.

Flustered, you took a long sip of your drink before setting it back down, “Can we go?” You asked Spencer, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you looked at him expectantly.

As he began to put puzzle pieces together, he nodded, standing up and gathering your glasses to set them on the bar. You said your goodbyes before leading the way out and flipping Luke off as he called out something about protection, something that would have previously left Spencer embarrassed and stammering, but now made him chuckle as he held the door open for you.

Part of you was grateful for this sort of evolution in Spencer, he was, after all, more confident in every aspect of his life. Now waiting for the metro, you looked at him, longer hair, his work shirt unbuttoned at the top and pushed up to his elbows. The light breeze in the tunnel moved his hair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Are you alright, love?”

Your shoulders drooped helplessly at the pet name, “You shoved a guy on a table?”

His face fell, “Is that what this is about? Me using force against a suspect?”

Quickly, you shook your head, “No, no. He pushed Tara, it’s not that at all,” you scrambled to reassure him, knowing he was afraid that his time in federal prison had made him a violent person. “It’s just… you shoved a guy onto a picnic table and you’re getting hit on by people in bars and you’re dressing differently and I’m just… me.” You hold your hands out as if you’re on display, looking down at the sundress you had thrown on and the sneakers you wore for comfort instead of style.

“Are you jealous that I’m getting attention from other people?” He asked, “Because I’ve never encouraged anyone.” That was true, last week a deputy sheriff had made a move on your boyfriend, and the only thing he had gotten in return was an earful on how you had made the deduction that eventually solved the case.

Bowing your head, you regretted ever saying anything in the first place, “No,” you groaned, “What’s that term for someone who can’t name their emotions? That’s me. Right now. At this moment.”

Spencer chuckled at your frustration, “It’s called alexithymia, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I’ve watched you change in front of my very own eyes in the last year, and I guess I’m just feeling left behind,” you admitted. “You’re a changed person and there’s nothing different about me.”

He tilted his head to the side curiously, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you said desperately, hoping to get to the bottom of your conflicting emotions.

“Did you love me before?”

You froze, looking up at him, “Of course.”

He raised his eyebrows, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “And you love me now?”

Nodding, you stepped closer to him, “Very much so.”

“Then there’s nothing else I could possibly ask of you,” he told you, smiling as you blushed. “You don’t need to change in time with me, and – since we’re being honest – I’ve always felt like I’m the one lagging behind you. So, maybe I’ve just been playing catch-up.”

You frowned, moving even closer to him as the platform grew crowded, “Well, now I feel ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous,” he murmured, “Just human,” Spencer amended.

[lazysoulwriter]

why watch you when i can ruin you - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ his version of "why watch it when i can show you" content: possessive!Pedro, jealousy, mildly rough behavior, established relationship, slight dom/sub dynamic, dirty talk, explicit smut.

---

Pedro had gone suspiciously quiet.

You were maybe halfway through the movie — your new film, your first starring role — and things had just started to heat up onscreen. Literally. The scene had dim lighting, music swelling, and your character backing her love interest against a wall. Then kissing him like her life depended on it.

You didn’t flinch. You knew the choreography by heart, and honestly? It wasn’t even that intense. You looked good. Professional. Convincing.

Pedro, however, looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.

His arm, which had been draped across the back of the couch, now hung rigid at his side. His eyes were locked on the screen, expression unreadable — except for the muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Hey,” you nudged him lightly, “you okay?”

“Yep,” he said, clipped.

You raised a brow. “You sure? Because you’re breathing like someone ran over your dog.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You blinked. “Wait. Are you… are you jealous?”

He scoffed. “Why would I be jealous of some guy pretending to fuck my girlfriend?”

Wow. There it is.

You bit your lip to stop the laugh. “Pedro—”

He stood up, abruptly, running a hand through his hair like he needed to physically shake off the image. “I mean, fuck. He had his hands all over you. And that little sound you made? You’ve made that sound with me.”

Your heart skipped. “Pedro. Baby. It was acting.”

“Yeah?” he turned, eyes dark, “Then tell me something.”

He crossed the room slowly, crouching in front of you, voice low and taut with something dangerous.

“Did he touch you like this?”

He slid his hand up your thigh — not sweet, not gentle — fingers splayed wide like he wanted to erase every phantom grip that wasn’t his.

You sucked in a breath. “No.”

“Did he kiss you like this?” His mouth was on your neck now, hot and messy, no camera angle to flatter it. Just want.

“No,” you whispered.

“Did he know,” he murmured, lips grazing your ear, “what you sound like when you fall apart? When you sob my name, all wrecked and real and begging for more?”

You were shaking now.

“He didn’t get to see you like this,” Pedro growled, pushing your legs apart, eyes wild. “Didn’t get to feel how warm you are, how wet you get for me.”

“Pedro—”

“I don’t want to hear his name.”

He pulled your shorts down like they offended him, his mouth hot between your thighs before you could say another word.

You gasped, hips bucking, but his grip was firm. “Stay still, cariño. Let me remind you who you fucking belong to.”

And he did.

Over and over again, with his tongue and his hands and his voice rough against your skin. Until you were shaking, breathless, whispering his name like it was the only one you’d ever known.

Later, tangled in the sheets, his chest against your back, Pedro kissed your shoulder and whispered:

“No more sex scenes.”

You laughed, breathless. “You’re not serious.”

He didn’t answer.

Which meant he absolutely was.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[mickyschumacher]

[I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it's been more than eight months since you and jobe broke up. that should be plenty of time to move on. but out of all the cafes in birmingham, you and jobe meet at your favourite on valentine's day.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, slightly angsty but not really, reader is a student, mentions of a break up obviously, not much too do with the titular song sorryyy, incase it's not obvious, the fic goes in and out of the past (italics), honestly just two young kids in love

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jobe bellingham x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.5k

𝐀/𝐍: the fourth fic of my series! i thought this was the cutest one to write bc it's just young puppy love and i love everything about it. hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it!♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You were young. You had your whole life ahead of you. Or so everybody says. 

“Life’s too short to stay caught up in the past. Live in the present.” 

“There will always be someone better. Something better. Don’t reminisce about the past. Think about what will come to you.” 

But it’s because you were young...  how could you ever forget the first boy you ever fell in love with?  

Eight months and seven days ago, you broke up with Jobe (not that you were counting or anything.) Eight months was long, but it wasn’t that long. You could still feel his touch, his smell... feel him all around you. 

Some days were more difficult than others. The busier it was, the easier it was to forget that you were ever in a relationship. But sometimes, all it took was the notification of your phone to remind you.  

You stood outside a familiar scene, contemplating everything as you stared hard at the building. It was your café. Your and Jobe’s. The place where you and Jobe met. The place where you and Jobe hung out together every day because there was no other place like it.  

Your eyes fell to their sign board, red and pink chalk hearts capturing your attention as much as the lovely ‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’ sprawled across the black canvas.  

You really shouldn’t be here. Not today out of all days. But even though you had purposely gotten home through a different route to avoid this very café for the past eight months, your body seemed to remember.  

Trying not to think too much, you walked in, immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia.  

You hadn’t met Jobe at this point. You knew nothing about him. But the moment you had walked into the café, your eyes almost naturally diverted to the corner of the building. And there you were met with the most beautiful brown eyes you had ever seen.  

You didn’t know it yet, but it would soon become your favourite shade of brown in the world.  

Hesitantly, you looked over at the corner where it all began. You knew Jobe wouldn’t be there. But you couldn’t help being left with disappointment. The corner table was instead taken by a small family.  

Quietly, you peered at the cabinets of sweets. Pistachio croissants, red velvet cookies, lemon and lime cheesecakes... some of the staples of the café. You and Jobe had tried every single one of them, reviewing them in depth. Both of your favourites were the raspberry and white chocolate blondie. It was what you both chose when you first met. And to your rotten luck, you watched it get pulled onto a plate. With a small pout, your eyes followed the server, unable to look away from the dessert.  

But that was a minor distraction compared to the distraction waiting at the table being served. 

You think your eyes are deceiving you.  

That same shade of brown eyes stared back at you. Once upon a time, you were able to read them from afar. But you couldn’t remember how to. Was it disbelief? Doubt? Perhaps shock?  

You weren’t sure when or how, but your feet had managed to inch their way to his table.  

“Jobe,” you breathed out, unsure of how long it had been since you had last said his name. 

Jobe blinked, shaking his head slightly to break his trance. He cleared his throat, calling your name as he always called it. You remembered how he repeated it when you first introduced yourself to him... like he was already in love with you.  

He gestured to the chair next to you. “You can take a seat,” Jobe mumbled towards the end, hand scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.  

As you took a seat, you wanted to say something, hell anything, but you couldn’t find the words. You were pretty sure you were dreaming right now.  

“Do you want me to order you your coffee? Half strength cappuccino with cinnamon, right?” Jobe asked, standing up from his seat.  

“Oh–uh, just a hot chocolate, please,” you tightly smiled, fingers fidgeting underneath the table.  

You could see Jobe furrow his brows, wanting to say something but instead he nodded slowly and went towards the front till. As he ordered, you debated a little bit of everything.  

What were you doing right now? If you were indeed dreaming, was this a sign of some sort of identity crisis? Because dreaming about your ex on Valentine’s Day was a new low for you. If this is real, maybe you could sneak out of here. He probably wouldn’t notice. All you had to do was stand up and just– 

“You don’t drink coffee anymore?” Jobe asked, taking his seat back in front of you.  

You pursed your lips. “Not really. I’m trying to lean off of it these days.” 

Jobe nodded again slowly, processing what you said. He didn’t know this part of you. All he knew of you was the year you spent together and the past you shared. This... it’s like he wasn’t caught up with you anymore. And he hated it.  

You disliked silence. It was a known fact. You always had. It was unbearable. Like a loud clock ticking over your shoulder. So, Jobe wasn’t surprised went you spoke up a few seconds after he had finished.  

“Mum asked about you the other day,” you blurted, eyes quickly  

The corners of Jobe’s mouth quirked up. “Yeah?” He queried, ears paying extra attention.  

You nodded, pulling on your sleeves. “She found your football boots in the garage. The blue ones. She said she misses you.” 

“I miss her too,” Jobe smiled softly. His eyes flickered out the window before coming back to you. “Do you?” 

You raised a brow, ignoring the thump of your heart in your chest. “Miss my mum?” You asked even though you knew that’s not what he meant. 

Jobe laughed to himself, resting in his chair comfortably. “You know what I mean.”  

You opened you mouth to speak as your large cup of hot chocolate was placed before you. Jobe watched you smile widely at staff, thanking them and God did it send his heart running.  

“If you had to choose, what is one thing you like about me?” Jobe queried, looking down at your face as you rested on his lap.  

You pretended to mull over the question even though you knew the answer. You just wanted to feel his hands in your hair for a little longer. “Your eyes,” you decided. 

“My eyes?” Jobe repeated, eyes already crinkling as his smile widened. “What’s so special about my eyes?”  

“They’re my favourite shade of brown. I love looking into them. They’re so warm and calm, filled with so much love and yet they make me so nervous,” you murmured, cheeks heating up as a comfortable silence fell between the both of you.   

Jobe couldn’t help but grin at your shy smile. He pushed the hairs out of your face, taking a good look at you. “Is that why you always look away?” 

Bingo. He had caught you red-handed.  

“Obviously,” you muttered, unable to look at him any longer. “If I could, I would stare at you for forever. But I can’t. So, I just do it when you can’t see,” you shrugged.  

Jobe smiled, pressing a kiss onto your forehead. “I love you,” he confessed. 

“Well,” you sighed, hands warming around your cup of hot chocolate. “You’ve never left my mind. Not that you ever could,” you admitted quietly.  

“I’ll take that,” Jobe sat forward, arms resting on the table. “You miss me,” he teased, smile widening.  

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink before you put in the marshmallows on the side. Mixing the cup gently, you watched Jobe push forward the raspberry and white chocolate blondie to towards you.  

“You’re first bite. Go on,” he nudged, nodding to the plate.  

You sighed, knowing very well he wasn’t going to start eating unless you did. You grabbed a spoon, taking the corner side of the blondie. As soon as it entered your mouth, you were positive you had died and gone to heaven. “Oh my God, how they do it?” You asked to no one particularly.  

Jobe, who had also grabbed a bite, nodded in agreement. “I know right? How they get the balance so good? Not too sweet and not too sour. We still haven’t figured out what white chocolate they use.” 

“My money’s still on Hamilton’s. Ooh, or maybe Montezumas! Their chocolate buttons were so good the last time you brought them,” you pointed out, still mulling over the thought.  

Jobe stared at you quietly, watching everything fall back to its normal pace for a brief second. The one where you talked and he listened. The one where he absorbed as much of you as he could.  

“What about me?” You asked, turning your head gently to the side. “What’s one thing you like about me?” 

Jobe’s fingers slowly caressed your face as he pretended to think because he also knew his answer. “Everything,” he softly responded.

Your brows furrowed. “Everything? That’s not one thing,” you complained, reaching out to hit his shoulder gently. 

A laugh fell from Jobe’s lips. “It is,” he maintained, “everything about you makes me nervous. Every time I look at you, your smile, your eyes, your kindness... your essence makes me feel like the whole world is collapsing.” 

Reality hit, however, when Jobe recalled your breakup. Eight months and seven days ago (not that he was counting either), you both had reached a breaking point.  

You both knew it was coming. The past few days had been tense. You hadn’t seen each other as much. Jobe could barely see you smile and he hated it. And the warmth in Jobe’s eyes were replaced with exhaustion.  

You were both sat in your room in silence. Another thing you usually hated but it seemed you were trying resist it, allowing minutes to pass.  

“I think we should break up.” 

Your voice, although quiet, was resounding. It was like you had announced it in a stadium. It was echoing back to your ears and making your heart beat thud and your hands clammy.  

“I...” Jobe didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to agree with you. But he knew it was right.  

You let out a tired sigh. “Jobe, how long are we going to go on like this? Hmm? How long are we going to pretend our lives aren’t in the way of our relationship? You’re always at training. And I’m always studying. I can’t reschedule another date... another birthday.” 

Jobe closed his eyes at your words. His body burned with anger and annoyance. He had rescheduled your birthday dinner not once, not twice but four times because he had training.  

You understood Jobe. He was new to Sunderland and he didn’t want to mess anything up. Not with him carrying the Bellingham name. Not with all the eyes watching him. But even that had a limit.  

“I don’t think this is our time, Jobe,” you croaked, throat breaking as hot tears welled up in your eyes.  

Jobe could feel his heart shatter. He hated seeing you sad. Fuck, he hated it so much. But the truth was loud in his ears.  

He couldn’t make you happier. He couldn’t make the time. 

You couldn’t compromise any longer. You couldn’t make the time. 

“Wouldn’t it be so funny if the chocolate was from Sainsbury or Aldi’s or something?” You joked, bringing Jobe back to reality once again.  

Jobe looked at you quietly before blurting, “I’m sorry.” 

You paused, smile dropping off of your face. “Huh? All of a sudden?” 

Jobe sighed before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I never made time for you. I’m sorry for rescheduling your damn birthday out of all things. And most of all, I’m sorry I didn’t fight for us more.” 

You sucked in a sharp breath, not expecting your heart to ache so abruptly. You tried looking into his eyes, but all you could do was focus on the floating marshmallows in your hot chocolate, all slowly disappearing. 

Your eyes burned on the brink of crying but for some odd reason... you couldn’t. 

“Do you know what it means to live, Jobe?” 

Your question sent Jobe into a flurry of confusion. “I don’t... I, uh–” 

“To live life is to be in the moment. To take joy and sorrow in all we have. Living means to never take anything for granted.” You breathed in, slowly moving your eyes to his. There it was. Your favourite shade of brown. No exhaustion in sight. Just warmth, calm... love. 

“I don’t think I started living until I met you.” 

Jobe couldn’t help but sit back and truly take you in. Your eyes shook, clearly nervous, but you voice was firm, clear on what you had said. He was sure there’d be times in the future, but right now, you were making him the most nervous he had ever been in his entire life.  

You looked like love.  

You looked like the love of his life–heck, you were love of his life.  

“These past eight months... listen, I know the last few days before our break up sucked but,” your breath hitched while tears officially began welling in your eyes, “these eight months and seven days have been miserable.” 

Jobe couldn’t help but laugh softly at your words as he bent forward, wiping away your stray tears. You had also been counting.  

“I’m in love with you,” Jobe confessed, hand caressing your cheek, “I always have been. And I always will. Please give us, me, a second chance.” 

Your eyes softened at his words, mouth about to open to respond when his voice cut you off. “Unless you’re in a relationship–shit, wait, I forgot to ask you that. You aren’t, are you? Not in like a bad way because like people would be crazy not to ask you out but–” 

“Jobe!” You interrupted; eyes wide with amusement. You could hear him go quiet making you laugh softly to yourself. “I’m not in a relationship,” you confirmed.  

A big sigh of relief fell from Jobe’s lips, shoulders dropping now that he was tension-free. He sat back in his chair, muttering something about how thankful he was to the universe.  

You cleared your throat, gaining his attention once again. “And for the record...” You started, grabbing his hand from across the table. Instantly, he tightened his grip around, afraid you’d let go. “I’d love to give us a second chance. And I promise I’ll make time. We’ll figure this out together, hmm?” 

Those lovely brown eyes you had fallen in love with shone and you doubt anyone would believe you, but you think he’s on the brink of crying. Jobe smiled, holding your hands close to him. “Does this count as a second date?” 

You narrowed your eyes. “You better be joking,” you teased.  

“But this is where we first met!” Jobe retorted, grin playing on his lips. 

You furrowed your brows. “What were you doing here anyways? It’s Valentine’s Day.” 

“Honestly?” Jobe asked, receiving your nod. “I was going to cheer myself up with this raspberry blondie. And then I saw you.”  

You smiled widely. “It’s like the first day we met all over again.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 

[neilissevered]

SCARS AND SOUVENIRS

After Su-ho falls into a coma, Si-eun is consumed by guilt and isolation, pushing everyone away—even you, the one who stayed. Yeon Si-eun x gn! Reader takes place when Su-ho fell into a coma, mild angst, hurt with comfort, slow burn, it gets lighter towards the end I swear wc: 6k+

an: Hello! This is my first time writing for whc, and I love Si-eun so much (I'm a Si-eun truther fr) anyways, this might be a little study on his psyche after the events of Su-ho, like how it affected him emotionally, physically, and socially. (So this is going to be LONGG) And it makes me wonder how he dealt with that and how someone could possibly help him. I hope you can enjoy this fic!

Edit: this turned out longer than I expected😭 each scenes are separated by a divider!!

It’s strange how guilt works. It consumes unforgivably, and it doesn't matter whether the person deserves it or not.

Si-eun was no exception as he stood transfixed, gazing at Su-ho's motionless body. The rhythmic hiss of the ventilator, the only sound breaking the silence, seemed like a cruel irony—a mechanical substitute for life, barely sustaining Su-ho's fragile existence. The mere thought that his friend might be slipping away, irretrievable, sent a chill down Si-eun's spine, filling him with an unspeakable dread. 

How did it all happen so fast? He does not know. It’s beyond his knowledge. No amount of textbooks can give him the answers that he needs.

Because when he finally finds something good, something tangible, he has to be the one to watch it all crumble away. 

Si-eun admits he isn’t good with friends.

God, much less a friend group that has an odd mix of people. He, the ‘human calculator’ as the others would comment, you and Beom-seok being the new transferees, and Su-ho, who has made the school his home. He’d grumble, brood, and even nearly stuff his ears with cotton because the combined noises that his three friends made were equal to an entire classroom during break time. 

He clung to the memories of those chaotic moments, cherishing every second as if they had occurred yesterday. It felt like an eternity ago when he was desperately trying to keep their group from falling apart. He vividly recalled the struggles of understanding Beom-seok's motives on Young-yi, of restraining both you and Su-ho from making reckless decisions, as the situation spiraled out of control like a runaway train.

The weight of those responsibilities still lingered, making his heart heavy with the burden of what could have been.

Jealousy happened,

Secrets were made.

Punches were landed.

And kicks were delivered to the head.

Now, you and Si-eun were left with the debris of the destruction. Both left to gather the pieces, desperately trying to go back to how it was before. Even when the damage had already been done. 

That would have been okay, a lesson-learned moment. Just start again, right? But as you gazed into Si-eun's eyes, you realized that he, too, was spiraling gradually, with his grip on reality being tenuous at best.

And god, how much you wanted a solution to everything. But how could you make one when even Si-eun can’t?

So now, you are here. In a classroom that has become a shell.

Sometimes, if you doze off during a lecture or if you close your eyes a little tighter, you could hear it—the cackles of laughter, the teasing, and the little calculated voice that always comes right after. You can sense it too, in the air, where something or someone is missing. And you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the empty seat next to the door.

You glance around the classroom, feeling a wave of frustration wash over you. Your gaze falls on your classmates, who are chatting and laughing with each other, completely carefree. It's as if they're oblivious to the pain and suffering you and Si-eun endured, like they're living in a different world.

The bitter, awful taste settles in your mouth, like a sour lemon drop dissolving on your tongue. You can't help but wonder how they can be so normal, so indifferent, while you're still reeling from the trauma. It's like they're pretending nothing ever happened, and that's what makes it so infuriating.

But really, it felt like you were on your own with suffering.

You look towards Si-eun, honing in on his textbooks as usual, posture slightly slouched as he takes notes, earbuds stuffed into his ears. From an outsider's view, it just looks like Si-eun being Si-eun.

But for you? There’s tension all around him. The guilt and suffering are too suffocating when you get close. What was once warm between you two has now turned cold and stale. His back faces your front, acting as a wall, and he sits there in front of you like a stranger.

And oh, how it toyed with your heart. Because this was your only friend left.

Young-yi was gone, having distanced herself from your group ever since she saw the state Su-ho was in. It makes sense to stick closer to Si-eun. To figure out a way to slowly mend things. To be there for Su-ho until he wakes up.

But no matter how much you stared, knowing that Si-eun could feel your intense gaze, he would not look back. He would not even acknowledge you.

He left you there in your world. And for the entire day, you switched between staring at the empty pages of your notebook and the empty seat beside the door.

“Si-eun.”

.

“Si-eun, it’s lunch time, we should get something to eat.”

He hasn’t been eating, you noticed. Like you also noticed the heavy bags under his eyes or how pale and cracked his lips have gotten. He can keep pushing you away if that’s what he wants. But you're firm. You'll wait patiently, ready to offer a lifeline when he's ready to accept it. 

He does not say anything. Not even spared you a glance as he took out his earbuds and crossed his arms to lay his head down on the table. 

You stood frozen, a statue of silence, as the heavy air between you hung like a challenge.

But you didn’t push. You left and came back to leave snacks on the space beside his head—a silent way of saying that you were still there, and you were going to wait for him to come to you when he was ready.

And that was it.

For weeks, you orbited his world, a constant but invisible presence. Not touching, not speaking, just silently there. And as you gazed at his back, a mix of concern and longing swirled within you, leaving you to wonder if somehow, you could absorb the weight of his guilt. To ease the pain that seemed to pull him down. To set him free.

Si-eun: “Su-ho, today felt just the same as it did weeks ago. I visited your grandmother last night. She’s okay. She told me Young-yi still calls now and then. Dropping by on the rare occasion, and she seems to be okay as well. I’m being transferred to a new school soon after finals. Thankfully, it’s not too far from here. I hope you’re doing well. Wake up soon.”

You and Si-eun would visit the hospital after school.

In reality, though, it felt more like shadowing Si-eun as you followed him. It had been a while since you walked beside him. For some reason, the closeness of that felt too much. It’s like the tension between the two of you would pop if you stayed too close. It made your hands clammy and your jaw tense while you tried to focus on matching his footsteps to ground yourself.

You’re both so painfully aware of each other that it hurts. Breathing the same oxygen, sharing the same memories—and yet he’s so close, but so far. You missed him.

Moments like these, you wished he would say something. Anything. Tell you to leave him alone, or stay, or just acknowledge that you existed in his orbit. That he can still see you.

But he was quiet.

To the hospital, and to the room where Su-ho stayed. He didn’t go inside, though. He stayed outside, typing away on his phone.

He was always like that, you noticed. You’re always the one inside. And maybe it was because the reality of Su-ho's condition was too difficult for Si-eun to confront. Maybe he forced himself to imagine his friend as usual, complaining about the unnecessary hospital stay, or pleading for some seaweed soup.

As Si-eun's thumbs danced across the screen, you suspected that he was sending messages to Su-ho, clinging to the hope that his friend would soon respond, and everything would go back to normal.

“Su-ho, look, your favorite drink was in stock this morning.” You brought Su-ho’s favorite drink this time. You hoped that the mention of it would make him wake up, say something cheesy and teasing while happily accepting the drink.

Sitting down at the cold, hard hospital chair, the drink in one hand, you took in the sight of your motionless friend.

The stillness was unnerving, and you felt an overwhelming urge to leave, to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the room. The antiseptic smell, a pungent mix of disinfectant and stagnation, hung heavy in the air, making your head spin.

You didn’t want to stay too long. You know Su-ho would hate that too. You also hated the stupid beeping of his heart monitor. It was supposed to be a reassurance, a sign that he was still clinging to life, but to you, it felt like a cruel taunt, a harsh reminder of his fragile state.

Your eyes turned glassy as you recounted the past few weeks. A lump forms in your throat as you tell the struggles of trying to be there for Si-eun, trying to wake him up from the guilt that he buried himself in.

A guilt and suffering so raw and all-consuming that you can feel yourself getting drowned in it too.

You squeezed the drink in your hand as you let out a sob. Your voice became shaky and jumbled. Phrases broke as you tried to make sense of everything. You felt defeated, as the world you once knew was no longer there.

And finally, you fell.

You fell on the fragile structure you made yourself stand in—the structure that you offered to Si-eun as a lifeline for both of you, and a silent plea that you would, and could, carry some of his burdens too. That you and your remaining friend can share the weight of it all.

Sobs shattered your entire body, no longer caring if Si-eun could hear you. You were so tired, so exhausted from keeping your own emotions in check so as not to overwhelm Si-eun with your desperation and weakness.

And as if the universe itself was mocking your despair, it rained hard. The thunderstorm matched the whimpers you let out as you held onto the drink.

You felt nothing. You felt like nothing but the overwhelming buzz of pain and desperation beneath your skin. Your head pounded with the rhythmic sounds of Su-ho’s heart monitor, your eyes blurring and unblurring each time you tried to wipe away the downpour of tears.

Overwhelmed with so much emotion, your mind gave control to your body as you abruptly stood up—the scrape of the chair against the hospital’s floor left unheard as your cries filled the room.

And you did the only thing your body wanted to do.

You ran.

You ran out of the room where your friend was tethered.

You ran away from Si-eun, his worried call of your name falling on deaf ears.

You ran out of the hospital, and in doing so, you abandoned the world you once knew.

The rain welcomed you like you belonged there, underneath the merciless droplets as your clothes became wet and soggy, clinging uncomfortably to your figure as you tried to quell your tears.

You held your chest tightly, trying to breathe and letting the rain wash out your tears. Your legs felt like lead, your body drained from the adrenaline rush that had left you spent.

You felt like sitting and wallowing in your puddle of despair without a care in the world, even if it would ruin your pants, and really, you didn’t mean to be dramatic, but you were just so confused; you and your friends are just a bunch of high schoolers.

The complexity of the situation seemed to mock your naivety, leaving you wondering how something so ordinary could unravel into such chaos.

Before you fell any further, the rain suddenly stopped. You no longer feel the droplets of water hitting your body, and you are left shivering in the cold. Slowly, you turned around 

And he was there.

Yeon Si-eun was there. His face contorted to a mix of genuine concern and fear. His dark, doe eyes are glassy, almost begging you to tell him what’s wrong as he shakily holds out an umbrella over your head. You noticed his labored breathing, almost panting.

You wondered if he had chased after you. His clothes were damp, too, and you saw that the umbrella only protected half of his body.

In that moment, the rain-soaked world around you melted away, and all that mattered was the fragile connection between you and Si-eun.

He whispered your name, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, but before he could continue, you interrupted him. Your voice was laced with a mix of emotions—pain, sadness, and a hint of anger.

“Hey, Si-eun.” You gave him a pained smile. Your grin not reaching your eyes as a scoff escaped your lips, a sound that was both bitter and disbelieving. You weren't even sure yourself what emotion was driving it.

“Is this how you feel? Every day?” You asked the question, your voice barely above a whisper.

You stared right back at his eyes, and for once, Si-eun saw the hollowness that yours held. He didn’t reply. He just gazed, his eyes drilling into yours, searching for something, anything, that could explain the void you were carrying.

But he couldn't hold your gaze for long. His eyes wavered, dropping to the wet ground beneath his feet, as if the weight of your words had become too much to bear. Suddenly, he was aware of everything around him—the sound of rain, the feel of the cold air on his skin, the smell of wet clothes clinging to his body, and your disheveled state.

“Look at me, Si-eun.”

He doesn’t, he couldn’t. He’s trying to wrack his mind for something. Something to solve this. Something to fix every— 

“I said, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

You grasped his shoulders as you let out another broken plea, the sudden action making him drop the umbrella that was protecting both of you from the rain. The material of his jacket wrinkled under your shaky grip as you looked right into him.

“Su-ho…he’s not gone. He’s still there. You know how strong he is. We both know that.” You lightly shook him as you spoke, as if trying to shake him awake while you broke down in front of him.

“But why, why do I feel like you’re the one who’s gone?” 

“I’m right here–”

“No, you’re not!” You cried out in desperation.

 And he finally looks. His mouth was slightly agape as he tried to find the right words to say. It was too much for him. The vulnerability that you bared for him. The pain that you held in your eyes, as he could feel every tremor of your hand on his jacket. He realized then that he can’t logic his way out of this. 

Because Si-eun had always been the rational one. He solved things, Fixed things. Calculated outcomes and plotted next moves like it was all a chess game. But this..you?.. You weren’t an equation. He couldn’t use his pen. Couldn’t punch it out or bury it in a textbook behind silence. And that terrified him more than anything.

“He’s not coming back any faster, no matter how much you ignore me.” 

For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of rain. No umbrellas. No pretense. Just the two of you, soaked and broken, under the weight of what had been lost and what still could be.

You said that last sentence in a whisper. Almost like an ultimatum. You were tired, spent, maybe about to get a fever from the cold and rain. You shakily let go of his shoulders. The sorrow in your eyes returned to its empty state the longer that Si-eun was silent. 

Half-expecting him to walk away, you started to leave. Maybe to go back to your home, or a convenience store. You weren’t sure. You just wanted to be away from everything.

But before your second step even landed, you felt it. His hand wraps gently around your wrist, lightly squeezing as if begging you not to go. Not yet. 

You hated that you stopped. Hated that part of you still wanted him to stop you. That some fragile, stubborn corner of your heart had hoped he’d reach for you. Just once. Just this once. Even after what you went through to finally get to him. This was your last prayer, whispered in silence.

And he heard it. Not in words, not even in the tremble of your breath, but in the way your wrist stilled under his touch, not pulling away. And the air between you was thick with everything you didn’t say. Every apology left unspoken. Every moment lost in hesitation. His hand was still on yours, unsure, as if he was still trying to figure out whether he had the right to hold you there. Or maybe he had already lost that right long ago.

But he held on anyway.

His hand remained on your wrist. Warm and almost grounding.

“Don’t go.” It sounded like a plea. Soft and wavering and so unlike the Si-eun you knew. 

“I know I don’t deserve to ask that.” He added. Catching his breath for a moment while you silently listened. “After everything.” 

Si-eun was aware of what he did when he distanced himself from you, his last friend. He can practically feel the desperation in your voice whenever you try to talk to him. Or every time you left food on his desk when lunchtime rolled around at school. He knew the turmoil that you were also quietly suffering in, and how his guilt slowly turned into your guilt, and his sorrow became your sorrow. 

Your silence urged him to continue.

“I thought if I kept you away..I wouldn’t break anything more than I already had.” You can hear how much it cost him to say those words. He was hesitant; you can feel it in the way his grip on your wrist wavered. It was almost as if he wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to go. He won’t force you to stay. 

And that’s what undid you. 

You turned. You finally looked at him and you saw his eyes, red, puffy, and tired. His face was flushed from how freezing it was to stay in the rain. He looked like a boy. It made you realize how messed up all of this was. Both of you were too small for a world so big, and the burdens too heavy to carry for some high schoolers who were supposed to be reviewing for the next exam.

“I wasn’t asking you to fix anything, Si-eun.”

“I know. I see that now”

“What happened to Su-ho… It wasn’t your fault.”

He was stunned by that. His lips slightly quivered from the cold or your words, he wasn’t sure. It felt like a dam finally broke within him. And with it came silent tears. Not loud, not visible at first. Just the kind that slipped quietly from his eyes, mingling with the rain on his cheeks. The kind of crying that looked more like surrender than sorrow. A collapse too quiet to be noticed unless someone was looking.

You were.

The wound was still fresh on him, seeing Su-ho stuck on that bed became his daily nightmare, and what he did out of revenge didn’t make it any better. 

For a moment, you pulled away from him and bent down to pick up the discarded umbrella, bringing it over both of you, even though you and Si-eun were already soaked to the bone. 

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Si-eun.” 

Finally, it feels like a weight has been lifted off both you and Si-eun. It wasn’t completely gone, of course. The pressure and the mark it left stayed there as both you and Si-eun went about your days. After that moment in the rain, you felt like you cracked his walls a little. Hope was renewed, and you had something new to cling to.

A silent routine fell between you. In the early mornings, you both walked to school, always meeting at an intersection before continuing up the street. Sometimes you would ask how he is or if he has eaten breakfast. He would do a one-word answer that was typical of him or just nod at what you’re saying.

 It wasn’t like before when there was Su-ho, Beom-seok, or even Young-yi. The rowdiness of your once-friend group has left something peaceful. You missed all of it, of course. But change was change, and you accepted this one, albeit reluctantly. 

You’d always admired him. His sharp mind, his laser-like focus, the way he could tune out the entire world for the sake of a problem set. It was impressive. Annoyingly so. He was the kind of student who made teachers beam and classmates groan.

But Jesus, did he ever stop?

Your physics teacher was deep in a monotonous rant about projectile motion, gravity, and God knows what else, his voice dragging across the room like nails on a chalkboard made of sleep deprivation. Meanwhile, you were locked in a life-or-death battle to keep your head from surrendering to gravity in the most literal sense. One more droning equation and you were going to face-plant into your desk, no hesitation.

So, naturally, your only reasonable option to stay alert and awake?

Challenge Si-eun, distract the genius. Stir the unshakable.

Si-eun, for his part, was completely focused. He took down notes as the lecture went on. Ignoring everything and everyone around him. It has been a while since the noise in his head finally settled. He started to sleep a little easier now, and he no longer felt too bitter about switching schools with you. Besides, he could still visit Su-ho as the hospital was a walking distance away from the building and—

Thwack!

A crumpled piece of paper nailed him right on the back of the head. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to derail whatever train of thought he was riding and bring it crashing into the station. The paper hit his collar, bounced, then rolled dramatically down his shoulder before falling onto the floor.

Si-eun blinked. Pen paused mid-stroke. He didn't even need to look back.

There was only one person bold enough to mess with him during a lecture like this.

You.

And God help you, you were grinning.

You were already leaning forward by the time he straightened up, chin propped lazily on your hand, an innocent expression on your face that was anything but innocent. Your eyes met the back of his head like you were waiting for him to combust. You can see it. The way his attention wavered, and he stopped drawing stupid diagrams. Days with Si-eun no longer felt cold or heavy. Things were finally starting to get better.

 And there is no way in hell he is going to continue listening to how Newton just made math even more complicated.

When he didn’t turn around, you leaned in closer, voice just above a whisper. “Hey, Einstein.”

And finally, Si-eun sighed through his nose, eyes flicking toward the crumpled paper now lying sadly on the floor like a fallen soldier. He could already predict what would happen next. 

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” you asked, blinking. “I haven’t even said anything.”

“You’re thinking loud enough.”

A grin curled at your lips, mischievous and playful. Just the fact he was entertaining you with banter was already more brownie points for you. You have him hooked. “Good. Saves me the trouble of whispering.”

Still no turn. Still scribbling notes. Classic Si-eun. So you upped the ante.

You gently tapped the back of his chair with your foot. Once. Then again. A steady rhythm before you decide to drop the greatest idea you've ever had.

“I’m bored. You’re overachieving. It’s raining. Let’s skip.”

Now he turned. Just slightly. Head tilting enough to give you the meanest side-eye to ever exist as if to question your entire being. So, you responded in kind with a raise of your brow as if challenging him. He only blinked before letting out a sigh.

“You want me to skip class. Physics, of all things. To do what exactly?”

Finally. “Convenience store run. Ramyeon, hot canned coffee, maybe strawberry milk if you’re feeling nostalgic. You, me, fluorescent lights, freedom.”

 You gave him a playful wink, your fingers drumming against the desk steadily and loud enough because you were trying to distract him from the teacher’s announcement of an upcoming quiz, and you weren’t losing your progress of finally getting back your friend. The bond was a little shaky, but you decided that baby steps were better than nothing. 

In reality, though, Si-eun already knew about that quiz. It was announced a week ago during a lecture where you were fast asleep on your table. Drooling. 

“Tempting,” he muttered, but you caught the flicker of amusement behind his eyes.

“I know you’re hungry,” you added, nudging his chair one more time. “And don’t lie and say you’re not, because your stomach made a noise two minutes ago. It sounded like a dying bear.”

“That was your pen falling.”

“No, that was my patience falling.”

He gave you a long, exasperated look—but it didn’t reach his eyes. No, there was something else there. The smallest tug at the corner of his mouth. A softening. You could almost see the scales tipping, and it only made you grin even wider. Suddenly, you didn’t care about what was happening around you. Not when you finally find that little smile that you have been working on to bring back. 

And then you said, more quietly this time, “Come on, Si-eun. Just one break. The world won’t fall apart if you breathe for forty-five minutes.”

A peaceful quiet sat between you for a second. He knew what you meant, and you didn’t have to say it. He’d been carrying too much. Always pushing and enduring. There were times he would go back to his self-wallowing, where he would still accidentally push you away, and studying has always been his escape.

 But today, you were offering something else. A moment outside the pressure, the guilt, the relentless pace of trying to be okay.

He looked down at his open notebook, the half-finished diagram of an arcing projectile staring back at him like it, too, was trying to convince him to stay.

And then he exhaled. A quiet, almost imperceptible surrender, and he began packing up his things.

You blinked. Leaning over his shoulder to confirm what you were witnessing, “Wait… seriously?”

“You want to go or not?” he said, zipping up his bag without meeting your eyes. “Before I change my mind and remember I have a conscience.”

You shot up from your seat, already grabbing your bag. “You had a conscience?”

“Don’t push it.”

Thankfully, the teacher didn’t care. Si-eun was transferring, and he is an excellent student on his own.

And you..well, you’re transferring with him.

The sun slanted low through the tall windows, casting golden streaks across the dusty shelves. The library was near silent, the kind of quiet that felt sacred, like even time had been asked to hold its breath as students slowly filtered out of the library until it’s just you, Si-eun, and a handful of other students who buried their noses into books.

You sat across from Si-eun at one of the back tables, your notebooks spread out in disorganized chaos, while his were stacked neatly, probably even color-coded by subject, knowing him. Between the two of you were a handful of empty candy wrappers from the snacks you'd brought. Well, mostly for yourself..Si-eun had eaten two, while you’d somehow managed six. You weren’t sure why you were keeping count.

 The original plan was simple: study together, then head out to visit Su-ho at the hospital. That was the plan, anyway.

But at some point, the words on the pages had begun to blur. 

Si-eun leaned back in his chair slightly, brows furrowed in focus, scribbling notes into the margin of his textbook. You were supposed to be solving a physics problem, but instead, you watched him and the way the sunlight caught in the strands of his hair, how his mouth moved just slightly when he read in his head. 

Has he always looked like this? 

Peaceful and just absorbed in his world, but not in a bad way. You felt some pride to see how much you and he have improved compared to a few weeks ago, and Si-eun’s resilience was one of the things you admire about him.

Until you couldn’t tell where admiration ended and something else began.

You didn’t mean to speak. It just... slipped out. 

“You look peaceful like this.”

His pen paused mid-stroke.

He didn’t look up immediately. You could see his shoulders tense slightly and the way his eyes blinked once, then twice, like he’d heard something he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. Because it wasn’t one of the things he predicted you would say. Maybe another convenience run to abandon all school work. But not..this.

A long moment passed.

“I’m just studying,” he said finally, voice low, almost cautious, his words carefully picked out.

“I know. That’s what makes it weird,” you replied, a soft tease in your voice to disguise the trembling truth underneath as you continued to look at him. Like, really…look. To others, it’s creepy and a little unnerving. But for you? You were just appreciating him. His doe eyes, the long flutter of his lashes, and the gentle slope of his n—

He glanced up now, eyes catching yours, and the look there was unreadable. Careful, guarded. Like, he wasn’t sure what page you were both suddenly on. But it felt like at that moment, you were sure you knew where you wanted to be. 

You leaned forward just a little, elbows on the table, fingers grazing the edge of his notes.

“You don’t let yourself rest much,” you said. “Not really. But right now… You look like you can breathe.”

Si-eun blinked, clearly thrown by the tenderness in your tone.

He opened his mouth. Maybe to change the subject, maybe to deflect with sarcasm or just deadpan at you and throw something monotonous and witty—but then he stopped. Closed it again. The moment felt too raw, too vulnerable, and he knew he wasn’t good with moments like these. 

 Something twisted uncomfortably in his chest. Something new and foreign, and Si-eun doesn’t know if he likes it or not. 

Hesitantly, he lets that feeling consume him.

“I don’t know how to anymore,” he admitted quietly. “Breathe, I mean. Not unless it’s for someone else’s sake.”

The words landed between you like a confession. Raw and unguarded. And you blinked slowly at him, as if trying to process the words he just said.

You let the silence settle, not awkward, but reverent. You reached forward, slowly, and placed your hand beside his on the table. Not touching. Just there. Close enough to feel the warmth that radiated off of him. Just close. Close enough to feel the quiet warmth radiating from his skin. There had been no tension before, but now it hummed softly between you, fragile and electric. 

And in that moment, you knew everything between you and Si-eun was about to change.

He looked down at your hand that was beside his. He felt frozen in his place, unsure of what to do next.

“You don’t always have to hold everything alone,” you said. “I seriously meant what I said a few weeks ago. You don’t have to go through it alone, Si-eun.”

“I know.”

It was a Thursday.

Nothing remarkable about it, at least on the surface. It was the kind of day that existed simply to pass time, quietly folding itself into the end of the week.

The halls had emptied hours ago. On days like these, students tend to want to leave a lot earlier. Friday was just tomorrow, after all.

But for you and Si-eun, it was just another day closer to getting transferred. To start anew. Or even better, another day wherein both of you could stay longer in Su-ho’s room and do your homework there.

But today?

You woke up feeling different. Not your usual happy self. You figured it was just one of those days where the air felt heavy, and some things around you reminded you of the reality that you lived in. An empty seat beside the door, or the fact that you still held so much concern for Beom-seok.

It made you feel sick.

The entire day went by in a blur, and you just lay down on your crossed arms, trying to cover your ears to subtly muffle the noise around you. Even Si-eun noticed it.

He noticed you.

Your clipped and short answers. Your blank stare outside the window of the classroom. The way you barely touched your food.

So he came up with an excuse.

At the end of the class, he made you sit down with your books while he offered to guide you through your homework. Something about kinetic energy and inclined planes, but your brain was too tired to cooperate. Too full of everything else. Everything unspoken.

Everything you had been holding in was like water behind a dam. Breathing became a chore, and blinking became too tiresome.

You sat together in the corner of the classroom, desks pushed together, books open but long forgotten.

You weren’t sure what was heavier. The ache in your chest or the silence between you. But you weren’t trying to solve the problems anymore, and neither was he. His pencil had stopped moving ten minutes ago when he noticed you were no longer listening and saw the subtle quiver of your lips on his peripheral vision.

You sat in that quiet, not strained, but fragile. And you were the first to shift.

Your hand brushed his, accidentally at first. Then… not.

He didn’t move away.

His hand was warm, a little rough, as if the world had asked too much of him too young. But it grounded you. The moment you felt it, the weight and reality of it? Something inside you cracked open. You hadn’t realized how much you needed something steady until it was there. Until he was there. This... was his way of carrying your burdens, too.

You didn’t say anything.

Words felt like they’d cheapen it.

Instead, you let your body speak the truth your mouth couldn’t form. You leaned, slowly, carefully, until your head came to rest against Si-eun’s shoulder.

At first, he went still. Rigid.

He didn’t know how to do this, how to be this. A safe place. Not when he was used to being sharp edges and deadly intelligence, used to carrying his grief and guilt like armor.

But then you sighed. Barely audible, a breath more than a sound, and something in him shifted.

He let you stay.

He let himself want it.

And in doing so, he finally made peace, albeit briefly, with the storm inside him.

The vulnerability still frightened him, though. That you could see through him like this. That you knew he wasn’t always strong. That there were parts of him still bleeding, still unsure. He didn’t know what this meant, what you meant—but for the first time, he didn’t want to shut the feeling down. He didn’t want to retreat into his silence.

Because you too felt like a safe place for him amidst the trauma that you and he shared.

You made sense in a way that terrified him.

And as he sat there, your head warm against his shoulder, your breaths slowing, your fingers still close enough to find his again if you wanted to, he realized something he hadn’t dared put into words until now.

He didn’t want to let go of this.

He didn’t want to let go of you.

And it scared him more than anything, how right it all felt.

How much the two of you made sense.

Anddd that’s it! Thank you soso much for reaching the end!! My phone and laptop were lagging like crazy trying to edit this so I tried to make it as readable as possible for everyone😭 I went thru about three revisions but if there’s any wrong grammar im so sorry!! dividers by: @/uzmacchiato

[lem0nt1ddy]

HEADCANONS (SFW)

✨️Mr. Ring A Ding/Lux Imperator x Reader

Howdy all! I'm Lemon! This is the first writing I've posted in a long time. I deleted everything I've posted beforehand on all forums. I heavily enjoyed watching Lux, and it inspired me to return to writing! Please enjoy!

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• Mr. Ring A Ding is a man who "falls in love at first sight". The moment his eyes land on you, his heart literally pops out of his chest, fluttering wildly as hearts swirl around his head. With those dreamy eyes, impossibly fluffy lashes, and exaggerated expressions, he makes no secret of how smitten he is.

• Full-blown romantic daydreamer. He’ll float midair in a lovestruck daze, sighing dramatically as he watches you from across the room like you’re the only star in his animated sky. He’d sit in a cinema seat for hours just gazing at you like you’re the main feature.

• There is no shame in his game! He’s endlessly charismatic and pours on the charm like it’s second nature. Whether it's a wink, a blown kiss, or a surprise serenade, he's always making a scene—enjoying every second of it.

• MASSIVE FLIRT ALERT. Big gestures, bigger compliments, and even bigger eyes when you walk into the room.

• This guy is a ride-or-die. He follows you like a heart-eyed puppy, arms always ready to swoop you into a dramatic dip or tight cuddle.

• Almost hyper-affectionate, needy in the most endearing way, and acts like being apart from you for five minutes is a tragedy of universe-ending proportions.

🌙 But of course, there is Lux within Mr. Ring A Ding.

• Before inhabiting the cartoon, Lux Imperator—the God of Light, the Dazzle at the heart of the Pantheon.—didn’t feel the way mortals did. Affection, longing, softness… those were distant, irrelevant concepts. He was celestial: radiant, untouchable, and entirely above sentiment. Cold, calculated, cruel, and at times, sadistic in his magnificence. That is, until you came along.

• Then he saw you. In a single, fleeting moment, you pierced through the perfection of his divine solitude. For the first time, something pulled him downward—from the heavens, into your orbit.

• He thinks you're gorgeous and wants to do something about it.

• Thanks to his new cartoony form, his emotions greatly amplified. As a cartoon, emotion rushes through him unchecked: heightened, amplified, unrelenting. He giggles louder, smiles brighter, feels deeper, and sparkles like glitter.

• Master manipulator. He knows what he wants, he knows how to get it, and he'll destroy everything in his way to have it. And this time, it's you. Lux isn’t some lovestruck fool fumbling for your hand—he is a master of the long game.

• The guy will stalk follow you wherever you go. Again, you can't escape light itself!

• At first, he wears a bright, harmless mask—“Mr. Ring A Ding!” he says with a charming grin. Jovial, magnetic. But behind those golden eyes is something ancient. Sinister. Something dangerous.

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“Oh me, oh my!” he gushed, teetering forward with a sparkle in his heart-shaped eyes—completely, shamelessly hypnotized. “And what do we have here?”

He took a jaunty step closer, his little two-foot frame radiating theatrical delight.

“You are… dazzling! Positively radiant!” He twirled on his heel, a flourish in his voice as if announcing a grand discovery. “Please, won’t you tell me—who is this standing before me?”

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• Lux is a needy bastard. Most of the time he wants an excuse to be around you or interact with you. Lux clings to excuses just to be near you.

-> Going up the stairs? He’s weak to walk, so he begs. “Oh dear, my legs!” he gasps, arms outstretched like a damsel. He'll deliberately stumble or whimper for your pity, milking every ounce of concern. "Please, help me, darling!"

• He'll whip out every excuse in the book for you to stay if you have to leave, no matter how long you will be gone. This man is devious. It's almost funny how he can turn from an untouchable god to a beggar, literally writhing around at your feet, swinging his cartoonish arms around your legs to keep you from leaving. Bro cries a river every time.

-> "You’re abandoning me! Forever! My heart—it's shattered!” he cries, tears somehow real, and a bit excessive.

• It's important to acknowledge the fact that Lux is still a manipulative, ill-intended, conniving little shit behind the antics and adoration. He knows how to pull strings, twist emotions, and charm you into compliance.

• And yet, it’s real. All of it. The obsession, the affection, the chaos. It's messy and unhinged, but his feelings are genuine.

• You’re the one thing that breaks through his armor of cartoonish madness and divine detachment.

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Lux does not hold back when it comes to affection. Again, he thinks you're pretty, and he's going to tell you all the time.

• He cannot keep his hands to himself. He always has to be holding you or touching you in some way. A hand on yours, grabbing your waist, both are on your cheeks when giving you a big ol' smooch.

• Make-out sessions on the floor? That's a yes. You'll find him on top of you, with hearts flying around his head with each second that flies by.

Even though he is a God, and you are a mortal, he would worship and adore you. In return, he wants to you worship him, too. Not in a religious way but romantically (out of love). He'll treat you as if you're the most sublime creature on earth.

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I do take requests, questions, SFW, and NSFW! Please, do ask!

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Lemon Cakes

aegon x niece!reader (rhaenyras first born no mention of the dad)

anon request - i feel like i made this way more angsty than you requested but im just angsty rn but im hoping this works for you 

Summary: Aegon had come close to having everything he wanted until it was all taken away. When the opportunity arises he takes swift actions to try and get everything back that he had lost. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, driftmark scene but i don’t touch on the eye situation, forced drinking of moon tea, alicent hitting aegon, larys mention and dialogue, a quick death(not mc), alicents a meanie in this one, just angst all over but happy ending, fingering, p in v

Authors Note: hey 👋🏼 how yall doing 🙂 um i dunno my brain decided to have no inspo to write so yeah! but im dipping my toes in again so anyways.. here’s a different kind of aegon than how i’ve written him before and i loved this request and im sorry it took me forever

Word Count: 6.9k

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

Driftmark - Laena’s Funeral

Aegon had only ever felt loved around two beings. Sunfyre and you. This weekend he had both of you. He didn’t care that it was for a funeral. He could sneak you away and keep you in his chambers with wine. Then before daybreak you could go flying with him. The perfect weekend while everyone was distracted with the Stranger. He comes to your side and clasps your hand in his. 

“Might I offer you some comfort in my chambers.” you scoff at his words but you can’t help when the corners of your mouth turn up. 

“It would be uncomely of us.” you squeeze his hand. 

“We all grieve in our own ways.” he steps closer to you. 

“Why would I seek your comfort?” your words low as you glance up at him. 

“You want to play this game at a funeral?” he brushes your hair back as he whispers next to your ear. 

“What game?” you blink up at him. 

“My Gods just come to my chambers.” he breaks into a smile. “I have wine,” his breath fans across your neck. “And of course my cock.” he chuckles when you lean against him. “I could arrange to have lemon cakes delivered too.”

“You’ve convinced me.” you nod your head and he’s pulling you down the back steps a moment later. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

You and Aegon gasp and pull apart as the doors to his chambers are ripped open beholding both of your guards and an angry looking Alicent. She looks over you both in horror before hissing at you both to dress and meet her in the hall. After untangling you both hastily dress and stumble to the door. When you open the door you're greeted by Alicent whispering to the maester and looking over you both. 

She starts down the hall and you both follow with your guards a step behind you. As you enter the hall you’re greeted by absolute uproar. Is this all because you and Aegon were found together? Surely that wouldn’t cause for everyone to be awake. Your eyes land on your younger brothers and gasp at their cuts and flock to their sides. Aegon watches you run to them and turns to his mother only to be greeted with her hand across his face. 

Everything happens so quickly after that Rhaenyra and Daemon push through doors then followed by Corlys and Rhaenys. Everyone is yelling and you gasp when Aemond turns towards your brothers. Viserys yells over everyone and the hall goes silent. Whispers are heard from all corners and he slams his cane on the ground. 

“It was a planned attack. While her daughter seduced and distracted Aegon.” your face crumples at her words. “I’ve had the maester brew her a tea.” the maester pushes through the crowd with weary eyes. 

“I-

“No.” Aegon shakes his head. “She will not drink that.” Alicent turns and glares at him. “I’ll take her hand.” there are muffled laughs across the hall. Your heart is racing as you’re staring from the maester to Aegon then to Alicent. 

“No.” you shake your head as the maester continues to approach you. “I won’t drink that.” 

“You won’t.” Aegon pushes down the steps. 

The next ten minutes are engraved in Aegon’s head. His father forcing you to drink the tea as you cry. Your mother not stopping it no matter how hard you cried and pleaded. His mother hitting him in the face for leaving Aemond. He felt as if his future, his happiness was taken from him that night. He watched as your mother dragged you out of the hall with your brothers behind her and he never got an opportunity to speak to you since. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

The day after Aegon’s coronation

Aegon flares his nostrils as his counsel members repeat the same thing he’s been hearing for well over a decade now. He must marry but he refuses to do so. There has only been one for him and everyone knows it. Every time he utters your name his mother groans and slams her hands on the table saying she’ll hear no more. His counselors sigh and quickly shuffle out of the hall. 

“Why must you make everything so difficult?” his mother puts her head in her hands. 

“I didn’t want the crown, the throne, any of this. I just want her.” he sighs. “Leave me here.” she scoffs at his dismissal but leaves nonetheless. 

“Your Grace,” he tosses his head back at that voice. 

“Yes, Larys?” he cracks his eyes open. 

“I have heard some whispers.” Larys himself whispers across the table. 

“Regarding what?” Aegon drawls. 

“Your beloved. They say she’s been sent off to the Eyrie.” Aegon's brows furrow. “Her hand in exchange for some thousand men.” he watches as Aegon white knuckles the marble ball in front of him. 

“She’s in the Eyrie now?” he snaps his eyes over to Larys. “You know this for certain?” 

“I would never dream of troubling you with false rumors, Your Grace.” Larys nods his head once. 

“Do you have passage for me?” Aegon sits up straighter and turns his attention to the man across from him. 

“It may be best if you were to take Sunfyre.” Aegon narrows his eyes. “Though best to do this at night and stay over the water as long as you can.” Larys stands and makes his way over to the map. 

“Do you know where in the castle she’s being held?” he watches as Larys shows him the path to take to get into the Eyrie. 

Larys gives him all of the information he has as Aegon starts to walk down the main steps. Larys urges him not to go now and make a better plan but Aegon has had enough of waiting. Aegon rolls his eyes as Larys pushes himself into the carriage with him. For the entire ride to the pits Larys is telling him everything he knows and best ways to get in and out quickly with no one seeing. 

Larys hobbles out of the carriage with him into the pits and watches as the keepers slowly walk up to him and help him prepare. Aegon smiles as Sunfyre cranes his neck down and Aegon pats his neck before turning back to Larys once more. Larys goes over the information once more but Aegon can’t focus on anything besides the thought of seeing you in a couple hours. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Aegon’s heart is thundering as he pushes through the trees and bushes. When the massive stone wall comes into view he sighs in relief. He made it this far without getting caught, he can almost feel your warm embrace and that keeps him going. He starts west along the wall looking for the crumbling door that Larys described. After about twenty minutes he’s sure he went the wrong direction until a piece of metal glints in the moonlight. 

Pushing away the leaves and vines a handle comes into view and he pulls the door. It creaks softly and once he’s through the barrier he’s off on a stone path leading up to the back of the castle. He’s constantly checking his surroundings and looking over his shoulder as he makes his way down the path. He stops in front of another door and takes a deep breath and picks up a small stone. He clutches to the dagger on his hip and nods before grabbing the handle and opening the door.

The dark staircase to his left is exactly as Larys had described and he takes the steps two at a time until he reaches the third floor. This information better be truthful or he’ll be dead before the sun rises. He walks down the hall and sure enough he sees a guard posted at the fourth door. His heart beats faster but he came up with a plan on the ride here but it’s time to execute it. He grabs a stone out of his pocket and turns back down the hall, leaving you for a couple more minutes. 

The stone in his hand feels heavy and it should, everything depends on a small stone from the garden and foolish hope that he’ll have you once more. His steps become more sure and when he reaches the next corner he tosses the stone around it and runs silently back around hoping your guard went after the noise. Breathing out a soft chuckle he sprints to the door and pushes his way in and clicks the door shut softly. 

He rests his head against the wood and catches his breath. He hears a gasp and his heart stops when his eyes snap open. It’s you. You’re in front of him. He doesn’t even notice the steps he’s taking until he’s beside your bed. You’re looking up at him with so many emotions he can’t figure it out. He steps back and holds out his hand to you. 

“Let’s go.” his soft voice startles you both. 

“No.” you shake your head and his heart stops. 

“Yes.” he furrows his brows. 

“Why would I go with you?” you scoot away from him on your bed. 

“Because I love you.” he searches your eyes. “And you love me.” he shakes his head. “We don’t have time to play this game.” he reaches for your arm but you scoot even further away. 

“I loved you.” the three words slam into him. 

“I- You don’t..” his face crumbles and he shakes his head. “No.” his face sets. “No. They won’t take you from me. Get up.” he nods his head. 

“Aegon,” his eyes snap to yours. “I’m not coming with you.” you blink up at him unsure of to what he’ll do. 

“Get up and let’s go.” he nods. “You love me.” 

“I’m betrothed.” you whisper. 

“I don’t care.” he walks over to your wardrobe and grabs a robe for you. “Let’s go. We have to go.” he holds the robe out for you. “Please?” he whispers. “Please come with me. Things are different. I can protect you properly now.” he nods, assuring you and himself. “I love you.” his voice cracks. “The only thing I’ve ever wanted was you.” he frowns. “Please,” he steps forward and you don’t scoot back. 

“Aegon.” he closes his eyes at your voice. 

“Please? Please,” he gets down onto his knees. “Please.” he looks down at his hands. 

“Will you force me to go with you?” he shakes his head at your words. 

“No.” he shrugs. “Then call your guard in.” you furrow your brows. 

“They’ll kill you.” you whisper. 

“I don’t care.” he looks up to you. “I don’t.” he shakes his head. “Then I’m done. There’s nothing left.” he lets out a broken laugh as he stands. “I have nothing. No one.” he starts towards the door. “I will always love you. Until my last breath and long after.” his words are causing you pain as he’s about to reach the door..

“Wait.” you chew your lip. “I’ll..” your brain is running a mile a minute. “I’ll come with.” he spins to you. 

“Do not toy with me.” you take in the tears running down his cheeks. 

“I’m not.” you snatch up the robe from your bed and hastily put it on. 

You don’t know what has possessed you to go with him but you felt your heart crack when he reached for that door. When you first saw him tonight your emotions were everywhere. You’ve tried to push away the last night you saw him but it’s been engraved in your mind. Your heart breaking. The loss of Aegon. The loss of the child you didn’t even think you would be carrying. You both were so young and your surroundings so hateful. 

“Are you sure?” your eyes snap up to his. 

“I’m scared.” you whisper. 

“Of what?” he wipes at your tears you didn’t know began falling. 

“What if they take me from you again? Take..” you shake your head and he watches you splay your hand on your stomach. “What if I get pregnant and they won’t let me keep it again?” his heart stops at your words. 

“That will never happen again.” he rests his hand on top of yours. “It should’ve never happened in the first place.” he furrows his brows. “I’m sorry. I..” his voice cracks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you both. I hate myself for it everyday.” he sniffles. “Everyday.” he sighs. “I don’t deserve you.” he shakes his head. “Here.” he shoves his dagger into your hands. It’s the dagger that separated your families all those years ago. “Just kill me. I don’t deserve you.” you’re staring down at the dagger and then up to his tear stained cheeks. 

“Take this back.” you whisper. “Get us out of here.” he nods and slows his labored breathing. 

He exhales and sheaths the dagger. You walk to the door and send your guard to retrieve you a cup of tea before sealing the door once more. Aegon is behind you with quaking hands and he looks you over and nods. He cracks open the door and grabs your hand before he starts to tug you through. His feet are sure as he leads you across the stone. All it took was a grunt and a gasp as you both turn the corner and now his blade is out once more. 

“What is going on here?” your heart stops as your betrothed stands before the both of you. 

Next thing Aegon knows is there is blood on his dagger and your betrothed is crumpling to the ground. Your eyes go wide in disbelief but Aegon is already pulling you down the hall. You’re both moving so fast it’s as if you're flying down the stone and when the cold air kisses your face your adrenaline spikes. He tugs you down the stone path and finally lets go of the breath he was holding as you make it to the other side of the wall. 

“You’re okay.” it’s not really a question or a statement but you nod all the same. 

You hear the mighty wing beats before you start to faintly see gold shining in the moonlight. You’re both sprinting and ducking between trees and when Sunfyre comes into view you stop. Gods he’s even more magnificent than you recall. You watch Aegon pat him and check him over before holding his arm out for you. You look at his outstretched hand and you can feel the desperation that extends from it. You know by grabbing his hand you’ll be saying goodbye to your family but you felt as if you did that all those years ago when no one besides Aegon advocated for you not to drink the moon tea.

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

The Keep is in an uproar when you and Aegon step inside the main door. He waves everyone off and leads you through the crowd and at the edge of the stairs waits his mother. She looks down at both of you before shaking her head and walking up the stairs. You both follow after her, hands still firmly clasped together. She leads you both directly to the council chambers and he has you take a seat at the head chair as he stands next to you. 

“We’re going to be wed before the sun sets tomorrow.” you hear his mother let out a scoff. 

“Absolutely not.” she shakes her head. “You will not wed your childhood whore.” 

“You forget yourself.” Aegon answers quickly. “You only have a place on this council because I allow it so. If you wish for me to keep your throne warm then I will wed her.” 

“This could be advantageous for us.” one of his Lords speaks up.

“I don’t care what it brings about. Make sure the preparations are seen to. We’re going to bed, it's been a long night.” your mind races never having seen this side of him before. 

“Your Grace, might we-

“No.” he shakes his head and offers you his hand. 

You can feel everyone’s eyes on your back as he leads you down the stairs. You look up at him when he offers you a reassuring hand squeeze as you make it to the bottom of the landing. He begins to lead you down the hall still unable to wrap his hand around the fact that he’s finally gotten you back. You ascend another set of familiar stairs when he clears his throat. 

“Do you want your old chambers?” he whispers. 

“No.” you scoot closer to him. 

“Would you like to stay with me?” you nod your head. 

He leads you to the set of double doors and opens one of them for you. You walk in and look around remembering being in here with your grandfather in your younger years. The replica of the city has been replaced with flagons of wine and cups. There’s coin scattered around as if he hosts parties here when he’s not out. 

“I’ll have it cleaned for us tomorrow. We can change anything you would like.” he watches you with his back pressed against the doors. 

“I hope you at least got yourself a new featherbed.” you turn to him with a half smile. 

“I had his burned with him.” he offers you a lopsided smile. 

“Are you sad?” you tilt your head. “About his death.”

“No.” he answers simply. “Are you?” 

“No.” you whisper. 

You both stare at each other from across the solar feeling every single foot.. inch.. centimeter between the two of you. You both let your eyes roam over one another seeing how the years treated each other. He starts to walk over to you and you feel your heart start to beat faster. He walks past you into the bed chambers and you turn and watch him. He pulls out a tunic from his wardrobe and hands it to you. 

“I’ll get you new gowns and night dresses tomorrow. Will this be okay for tonight?” he offers you a small smile. 

“Yes.” you whisper. “Thank you.” 

“The bathing chambers are over there.” he clears his throat. 

You quickly walk past him and leave him standing there staring after you. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. He’s been dreaming of this night for years but everything is different. There’s no instant lust like he thought, of course he thinks you look absolutely beautiful but he just wants to hold you. Look at you. Never let you out of his sight. But he also wants to keep his distance and let things move at your pace and what makes you comfortable. He already- His mind goes blank as you walk out of the bathing chambers in his tunic. 

“Which side of the bed can I have?” your soft words wash over him. 

“Either.” he nods and watches you go to his side of the bed and pull the covers back. “I’ll be back.” he grabs a pair of sleep pants and walks into the bathing chamber. 

He almost collapses when he makes it into the bathing chambers. Everything comes crashing down around him. All of the events. Everything that could happen. Is he putting you in imminent danger by keeping you here? He can’t even wrap his head around the fact that you're laying in his bed right now. He looks up and sees the tears running down his cheeks and realizes that he’s sobbing. 

“Aegon?” you knock softly on the door. “Are you okay?” you crack the door open and take in his red face. 

You breeze past the door and wrap your arms around him. You both cling together and slowly sink to the cool stone floor. Your own tears join his as you hold each other and softly sniffle. Neither of you say anything as the minutes tick by. You can feel the emotion and needs bubbling around you both and you squeeze him tighter. He holds you closer in return until you both settle. You wipe his tears as he wipes yours and you leave without saying anything so he can change. 

He walks out into his bed chambers to you curled under his blankets with puffy eyes and red cheeks. He walks to the other side of the bed and crawls beneath the blankets. He turns on his side to face you and you scoot closer. He scoots closer to you and you both repeat the same movements until your hands are clasped and you’re sharing the same body heat. 

“Do you truly wish to marry me?” he searches your eyes. 

“I have for my whole life.” you whisper out one of your longest held secrets. 

“Do you still love me?” his voice cracks. 

“I lied when I said I didn’t.” your heart sinks thinking back to your words. 

“You’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.” you nod your head. The both of you finally let your heavy eyes shut for the night as you continue to cling on to each other. 

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Everyone has been running around all morning and you can’t keep track of every handmaid that comes in and out of your shared chambers. They hissed and your and Aegon's puffy eyes from crying and whisked him out of your chambers as they began to ready you. Gowns upon gowns were brought in with new fabric and slippers and jewels and everything you could think of. 

Once you were out of the bath with your hair being tended to you were soon stepping into different skirts. They dressed you and moved you as they pleased and never got any complaint from you. And for that fact they would bring you lemon cakes and offer you whispered praise. You were happy to be doted upon, it gave you a nice distraction from everything that has been going on. 

Once the sun had finally crested over the Blackwater she came. She wore a deep emerald dress and on her face adorned her normal scowl. She wafted into the room like a winters breeze and stood before you. She looked over the gown and to the lemon cake in your hand and scoffed. The handmaids held their breath and kept their eyes downcast as she looked you over. 

“Find a different gown. This one has sugar on its skirts.” she rips the lemon cake from your fingers and leaves the room and thankfully takes the heaviness with her. 

Your handmaid's offer you apologetic smiles as they begin to untie you from your skirts. You step out of them with a small shrug and they place you into a new gown. This one is more fitting to your tastes anyways. And when you ask for a lemon cake you smirk when they hand it to you with a conspirators look. 

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

Aegon has been locked inside the council chambers all morning. His wine cup has been dry for an hour now and another Lord is offering up his daughter in place of you. He’s about ready to have all of these Lords hanged but he won’t have such a gruesome scene on his wedding day. The doors burst open and he slumps down in his chair when his mother enters. 

“What now?” he drawls, wishing he could just whisk you away and be done with all of this. 

“I found her eating lemon cakes and sullying her skirts.” Alicent takes her place at the table. 

“Gods forbid my wife indulge in a piece of cake.” he shakes his head and tosses his hands into the air. “What would you like to be done? Shall she be tossed in the dungeons? Hanged? Over a lemon cake.” he slams his hands on the table. “I’m done. I’ve had enough. Whatever gown she is in by the time I get there that’s what she’ll be wed in. We’re going straight to the main hall. Gather the septon and maesters. I’m done with the waiting and the toying around.” he pushes his chair back and thuds down the stairs leaving his councilors and mother to stare after him. 

He’s been dressed for some time now and he’s getting jittery. He’s scared that if you don’t wed soon you’ll be taken from him again. The hours you’ve spent apart this morning are starting to give him paranoia and he starts to sprint up the stairs nervous he won’t find you where you should be. He bursts into your shared chambers and all of the air is sucked from his lungs when you turn to him. 

“Beautiful.” he whispers and your handmaid's bow their heads and quickly scurry out of the room leaving the both of you alone. 

“How has your morning treated you?” you step down from the small pedestal. 

“I wish for us to marry.” he can’t keep his eyes from looking all over you. 

“I believe that’s why I’m in this gown and you’re in that ensemble.” you nibble your lip. 

“I..” he clears his throat. “I wish for us to wed now.” his eyes slide up to yours. 

“Then call the septon and maesters.” you stop at the table and grab another lemon cake. 

“I have.” he slowly walks over to you. “My mother has told me to punish you for eating these and sullying your gown.” he plucks the cake from your hands. “Open.” your eyes flick to his as warmth spreads across your cheeks. You open your mouth and allow him to feed you the small cake. Your eyes flutter shut when the tart is replaced with sweetness. 

“And will you punish me, my king?” you open your eyes and smile when he has another lemon cake waiting at your lips. 

“I will never.” he whispers. “You will always be safe with me.” 

“I missed you.” you take a small bite of the cake. 

“I missed you too.” he sets the cake down and pulls you into his embrace. “Are you ready to go to the main hall?” 

“I thought it wasn’t until later.” you mumble into his chest. 

“I’ve had them get everything ready. I don’t wish to wait another minute without you bound to me and I to you.” he holds you tighter. 

“Lead the way.” you pull back and smile up at him. 

As he leads you through the halls your memories from your youth begin to fold your mind. Your eyes dart around and you notice how everyone stops and bows their heads as you both pass. It’s not that you haven’t thought about it but after this ceremony you will be Queen. This changes everything and nothing all at once. You lean in closer to Aegon as he helps lift your skirts as you walk down the stairs. 

He fans your skirts behind you before he offers you his arm. The bubble you two seem to be in continues to carry you down the hall where a pair of guards stand and open the doors for you both. Greeting you is a small group of people, most of whom you don’t even know. The smiles don’t quite reach everyone’s eyes but you couldn’t care less and the both of you approach the maester and the septon. 

“Are you both ready?” the maester greets with a warmer expression. You look up at Aegon and nod and step closer to him. 

“We are.” he nods to the man. 

Aegon has his hands clasps with yours tightly as the septon steps forward and begins to recite the ceremonial words and prayer. You don’t pay attention to anyone else in the room as you look up at Aegon. He feels his eyes welling with hot tears and he knows his cheeks must be red by now. He lets out a small sound when you cup his cheek and rub a soothing thumb against his heated skin. 

“I love you.” you whisper not caring if you're interrupting the septons flow. “I have forever and I will always.” 

He sniffles and encases your hand on his cheek and turns his head slightly to place a soft kiss on it. His mother clears her throat and you both turn to the septon and maester and they offer you small nods confirming the ceremony will come to a close once you seal your lips. He brings his hands up to cup your face as he searches your eyes. You reach up as he leans down and when his lips touch yours for the first time in years it feels like it’s the first time. He moves his hands to wrap around you and hold you closer and you offer him the same. 

When you both pull apart you take in his lidded eyes and how he seems to hover even closer. He takes you out of the hall and waves off the Lords who offer you both congratulations. He doesn’t care for their fake words or smiles. He leads you down the hall and you feel your heart fluttering wondering what’s to come. A small smile plays on your lips as he takes you to the main doors and pulls you out into the sun. You cling to his side as guards turn to the both of you as you descend the steps. 

“Where are you taking me, my husband?” you glance at him. 

“I wish to fly Sunfyre over the city with you.” he wants to be surrounded with even more love right now. 

“You’ll receive no complaints from me.” you offer him a smile and hold onto his arm. 

The carriage ride to the dragon pits goes by quickly as you look upon the city from the window. It seems as if nothing has changed since you were last here. Aegon watches as your eyes dart from place to place before he takes in your whole being. The way your gown hugs you perfectly. How you look like you’re absolutely glowing. Your hair flowing down your back. The small blush on your cheeks. He’s so entranced by you he doesn’t even notice the carriage ascending the hill to the pits until it finally comes to a stop. 

“Are you ready?” you turn to him and your brows furrow. “Why are you crying?” you reach over to wipe away his tears. 

“I’m just..” he shakes his head. “I’m so in love with you.” his soft words wrap around your heart. “I just never thought that this was a possibility. I want to marry you again and again and again.” his hiccups as his tears start flowing once more.

“I’ll marry you as many times as you’d like.” you brush away his tears. “Do you wish to fly or we can go back to the Keep?” you wrap your arms around him and he buries his head into your neck. 

“I don’t know.” he mumbles against your skin. “I just want to be held by you right now.” you feel his tears dripping onto your heated skin. 

You scoot closer to him and he pulls you into his lap as he holds you tightly. His hold is firm as if you’ll be taken from the carriage but you don’t mind. You tangle one of your hands into his hair and wrap the other around his back. His tears start to soothe when you start to brush your fingers through his hair. After a couple minutes he pulls back and looks up at you with puffy eyes and red cheeks. 

“I love you.” you nod at him as you cup his cheeks. 

“Can I have a kiss?” he blinks up at you. 

You lean down and press your lips to his. His hands grip onto you tighter as you swipe your tongue along his bottom lip. He lets out a small moan and when you slip your tongue into his mouth his meets yours to caress it. You're both sealed together so tightly that there’s no end or beginning between you. There’s nothing rushed about your union, you both simply want to learn each other once more. Love each other once more. You both pull back for air and lock your eyes. 

“I want to go see Sunfyre and feed him.” he nods. “Then I want to take you back to the Keep and keep you in our chambers for days.” he smiles watching your cheeks flush even more. 

“I’m content to do anything as long as I’m with you.” you offer him one more kiss before getting off his lap. 

He can’t help himself and kisses you once more. You smile against his lips and when he pulls back he presses his lips across your face. Once he’s content he opens the carriage doors and helps you out. You walk hand in hand into the pits as the keepers greet you. Sunfyre is already being brought up from the pits and once he emerges from the depths you watch a smile spread across Aegon's face. 

The keepers walk over some live feed to the both of you and step back nodding their heads. Aegon leads you closer to Sunfyre and you crane your neck up at the golden dragon. Yes you saw him last night but not in all his glory. He’s even more beautiful than you remembered and you offer your hand up to him. Aegon watches as Sunfyre dips his neck down and presses into you before turning to him and offering him the same greeting. 

“We got you some treats.” Aegon grins and pats the side of Sunfyre’s face. 

Aegon clasps his hand with yours once more as he walks over to the cattle. Sunfyre rises his neck and watches as Aegon and you present the food to him. You both step back and watch as he burns the cattle and begins to eat. You both continue to dote upon Sunfyre for a couple minutes before returning to your carriage once more. Once the door is sealed shut you both are descending the hill and making your way back to the Keep. 

“I don’t really care for what’s to come or what will happen as long as you’re by my side.” he turns his head to you. 

“I will stay by your side for the rest of time.” you grab his hand and offer him an assuring squeeze. 

“Do you mean that truly?” he searches your eyes. 

“I do.” you cup his cheek. 

“And you want to..” he tries to calm his heart. “To have a child? With me?” he whispers. 

“I do.” you squeeze his hands. “Preferably more than one.” you smile.

“I won’t let anything happen to you. You won’t be taken from me again.” he shakes his head. “I promise.”

He pulls you into his embrace and you melt against him. You can feel the love flowing out of him and into you as he holds you tighter. You stay connected until the carriage comes to a stop once more outside of the Red Keep. He offers you his arm as he steps out of the carriage and you accept with a coy smile. 

You curl into his side and intertwine your fingers with his as he begins to lead you through the castle. Aegon offers small nods at the people you pass in the hall as he leads you to the stairs. His heart starts to beat faster as you approach your now shared chambers. He feels like it’s his first time all over again as you both round the last corner. He pushes the door open and holds it open for you. 

“Thank you.” you can’t help the flush that rises to your cheeks as he shuts the door. “I don’t know why but.. I’m nervous.” you chew your lip. 

“I am too.” he walks over to you. 

“But I want this,” you step closer to him. “I want you.” you blink up at him. 

“We can stop at any time.” he looks into your eyes and nods. 

You reach up and press your lips to his, sending your heart racing. His hands fall to your waist and pull you closer, swallowing down every small sound you make. Hands sliding up to your laces he pulls back and looks at you with blown pupils. You nod quickly to his silent question and soon his mouth is back on yours as his fingers slowly start to pull at the laces. Once you step out of your gown he’s frozen in place as he looks you over. 

You step closer to him and start to remove his doublet which is soon followed by his jerkin. He goes to press his lips back to yours but next he knows his tunic is raised to his neck and your palms are pressing against his chest. Your touches hold more heat, more fervor. He presses his lips to yours quickly as his hands bunch your slip at your waist. You pull aways from his mouth as he discards your last piece of fabric. He groans into your mouth as you press your chest against his and your skin alights together. 

Your hands start to quickly fumble with his trousers and once you loosen the belt they drop to the floor and he steps out of them. He pulls you back against him finally without any barriers and the moment comes rushing towards him. His grip becomes more needy and he starts to pull you back towards the bed. He gently lays you back on the bed and starts to crawl over you. He presses his lips to yours and when his tongue pushes into your mouth his fingers slide up your slit. 

He swallows down every gasp that falls from your lips as your wetness begins to coat his fingers. With every swirl of his fingers against your bud your hips slightly lift off the bed. He starts to press his lips down your neck while his fingers circle your entrance. You whimper when he presses two fingers into you letting his thumb stay doting on your bud. 

“Aegon,” you breathe out and his cock twitches. You spread your legs wider as he starts to pump his fingers into you. “Please, I want you.” he feels you start to tremble beneath him. 

Aegon nods into your neck and slowly pulls his fingers out of you. He coats his cock in your pleasure before starting to press into your core. He leans down over you and watches your face as he slowly pushes into you. You press your lips to his and wrap your legs around his waist as he continues to inch in. Once he bottoms out you both let out small sighs and cling to one another. 

“I love you so fucking much.” he mumbles against your lips. 

“I love you.” you bury your fingers into his hair holding him tightly. 

He starts to move his hips and he groans feeling you tighten around him. Your body is already humming with pleasure and you can’t stop the moans coming from you. Every sound you make sends Aegon closer to his own pleasure. You both lock eyes as you pant and grind your hips against each other. He leans down on his forearms getting even closer to you and the heat rises between you both. Each brush of his hips is pulling soft whines from you as he nudges against your bud. 

“You’re my wife.” his words starting to get pleasure slurred. “Mine.” he whispers and you nod your head as his thrusts become more demanding. “The mother of my children.” he groans, feeling his stomach coil. 

“Aegon,” you gasp on the cusp of falling apart. 

“My queen.” he presses his lips to yours and you burst around him. 

He curses lowly as he starts to fill you with his spend and continues to pump it inside of you. Your lips press against each other again as you stay connected in every sense. You let out a small whine as he slowly pulls out of you and lifts up. You grab onto his arm with a frown as he starts to get up. 

“Where are you going?” you whine. 

“To get a cloth to clean you up a bit.” he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead. “And to get you more lemon cakes.” he watches a smile form on your face. 

“I love you.” you squeeze his hand and admire him walking about your chambers. 

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masterlist  ⏾  wips  ⏾  taglist

feeling like this is my first time posting again and i’m scared xx 🙂💞 this past month has felt like a year and i went through it but sheeees back… maybe.. i hope 

so i updated my wip finally and shrunk it so im going to slowly start working through it and hopefully get my brain going again

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething @naty-sunshine @supernaturalwitch89 @the-wife-of-fictional-men @darylandbethfanforever9

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine protects you at a fundraiser and then Lemon learns about the two of you - Epilogue to Don't Blame Me

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: heavy make-out scene, swearing, canon like violence, attacking, mentions of blood and death, slapping, sexual innuendos, protective!Tangerine, jokingly implied daddy kink

~ thank you for requesting @j23r23 ily! this was fun to write! ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

Tangerine's hand grips your hair so firmly, his lips crashing into yours as he holds you close with his other hand. He's pressed you up against the wall of this empty corridor, your lips already bruised black and blue from the intensity of his kisses. You try and catch your breath to try and remind him Lemon is waiting inside.

"Tan," you mumble as his kisses trail down your neck, and you gasp, "This fundraiser is important for us. You're supposed to be m-mingling—ah—" you moan and your hands pull at his curls as his tongue explores your mouth as if it doesn't already know every crevice. 

"If you didn' want me kissing ya, you shouldn't av dressed like this," Tangerine groans, his hands gripping your hip as your navy blue dress bunches around your waist and the slit exposes your skin.

"I fuckin' hate these fuckin' events, you know that better than anyone, but you're making it so much sweeter," he growls and his teeth pull at your lip after he speaks and you squeal and press your palm on his chest, pushing him away. 

"Ow," you hold your hand over your mouth. 

Tangerine's hands find your cheeks and with obvious care, he examines your lip. When he finds no injury to fuss over, he kisses your forehead and mumbles, "'M sorry, my love."

You melt, all your anger disappearing as your shoulders relax. 

"Can we just go inside and do our jobs? Lemon is gonna kill us," you sigh and absentmindedly run your hands over the buttons of Tangerine's vest. 

"Bull," Tangerine chuckles and runs his thumb over the sides of your mouth, "Lemon's most likely too busy bothering some poor sucker over Thomas facts, bless 'im," he looks down and takes your purse, fishing out your lipstick and handing it to you, "Might wanna freshen up, darlin'. You look like a downright mess," he smiles and creates some distance between you. 

You frown. You take out your pocket mirror and angle it to see how smudged your crimson lipstick is. Your eyes snap up and see that Tangerine's lips have taken most of your lipstick and he looks just as sinful as you do. 

You turn the mirror around and deadpan, "So do you, dimwit."

He shrugs and just wipes the side of his mouth as he looks to the side. It doesn't help much, but he doesn't seem to care.

Tangerine barely looks like he's listening, his attention suddenly pulled elsewhere. You turn the mirror back around and then fumble with your lipstick as you try and reapply the color, grumbling, "Lem's right, you're such a fucking Gordon. Never fucking listening to me."  

However, you weren't expecting Tangerine's hand to suddenly close around mouth, the gesture surprising you so much you drop the mirror and it shatters on the ground near your heels. You prepared to shout at him, because what the fuck, when the look into your boyfriend's eyes, however, makes your blood runs cold.

"Something isn't right," he mutters, his hold on you unwavering, "I know those guys. They're not supposed to be here." Tangerine's voice sounds stern as he looks back towards the ballroom where the fundraiser is being held and the music is faint.

Abruptly, a loud gunshot is heard and screams follow as you gap and your hands fly to your ears. Tangerine seems unphased by the sound and without warning, he holds your forearm and pulls you down the hall in the opposite direction from the chaos now ensuing in the other room.

"Lemon," you exclaim breathlessly. Only, Tangerine isn't listening as he practically drags you to some smaller room of the building and pushes you inside.

The door closes shut before you can even process what he'd done and you slam your palms onto the splintered wood, shouting, "Hey!? Tangerine, what the fuck?" 

"I'll be back for you," you barely hear him over the gunshots and screams, and then nothing for a moment until it all resumes, and your shouting is drowned out by shouts of pain and fear. Your mind is racing as you look around the small, cramped, maintenance closet he'd basically forced you into.

Tears blur your vision but you try to find something to pick at the lock or however Tangerine had locked this goddamn door.

You continue to hear screams and gunshots. Your hands start to hurt as you use the pin in your hair to pick the lock instead. It's useless for a while and you slam your palm on the door in frustration.

What if something had happened to them? Why did he push you away? You could have helped them like you always do!

Finally, after what seems like forever, you hear the gunshots cease and it's replaced by sirens. You shove open the door with your shoulder, choking on a sob as you look around. You see bodies and blood everywhere and you feel weak as you walk towards the stairs and the exit.

You're too scared to scream out in case whoever was shooting is still around. 

Everyone is crowded in the street, some are injured in their sparkling dresses and fancy suits. Ambulance and police are parked all around and you know every assassin and criminal there is grateful for the cover of the charity.

You stumble into the crowd, desperately looking for two familiar faces, and when you hear an all too familiar rough voice snap out an insult, you snap your head around.

"Ya gotta let me back inside, you bastards! Do ya hear me? Someone is still in there! I gotta get 'er," Tangerine snarls and attempts to stand from the sidewalk where three exhausted-looking cops are trying to calm him down. He's bloodied and messy, and his eyes look wild. He's pissed. His arm is in a sling and Lemon is holding an ice-pack to his forehead as he grumbles to himself. 

You let out a breath and without thinking you find yourself running towards them as fast as your stupid heels can take you. Your mascara stains your cheeks and the stickiness prickles your skin as you choke on a sob when Tangerine sees you.

He stands up, his eyes now wide with pure shock and relief. The three officers look confused but move to the side when they see you approaching. 

The situation then becomes ever more awkward for them when you wrap your arms around Tangerine's neck and kiss him, pressing yourself into him to have him close. You ignore what a mess he's in or the way he squirms away because of his hurt arm. In fact, when you pull away you look him dead in the eyes and lift your hand to slap him. 

"Bloody hell—" Lemon stands beside his brother, his eyes wider than you've ever seen them.

At the same time, one of the officers grabs your arms and pulls you away from Tangerine, "Miss, you can't—"

"Don't touch her," Tangerine snarls harshly and with his good hand, he pushes the officer away from you and stares at him. "We're good here," he says with such authority they don't argue and leave you three alone.

"I cannot believe you locked me in a closet?!" you hiss and reach up to touch Tangerine's cheek, running your thumb over a bruise you think you made with your ring. Oops. "You nutter," you say.

"You kissed him," Lemon says again. 

"I had to, Peach, I couldn't have those dangerous fuckers hurting you!" Tangerine says calmly, unphased by your slap, and looks to the building and all the chaos, "I don' even know what they wanted from all of us—I mean, what sane person would put a hit on a bunch of assassins and hitmen?" His voice is softer as he thinks aloud. 

You slap his chest to pull his attention to you again. "I'm so mad at you! You could have died!"

"You kissed him," Lemon repeats, staring at the both of you as if he's in a trance. Then, he shakes his head and puts in between you and Tangerine, his arms outstretched on either side of him. "Will you fucks just shut up for one goddamn second?!" he glares at his brother and then looks at you, "You kissed him!?"

You bite your lip, the situation sinking in.

Shit.  

"She's done much more than that," Tangerine says, his tone smug.

"Tan!?"

"What?!" Lemon snaps his head to look at his brother. 

Realization dawns on him as he looks between his two favorite people and a look of disgust soon graces his features, "Gross! You've been hooking up? Seriously?!"

Tangerine stares at his brother sternly, "No. I love her. We love each other."

Lemon looks even more appalled and he looks at you as if you've lost your mind, "You love this arsehole?" he asks. You feel warmth on your cheeks but you nod and see Tangerine's shoulders visibly relax when you admit to Lemon you love him too. "Thomas help me," Lemon mutters and holds his head as he slumps back down on the pavement, "You fuckers are givin' me a headache."

Tangerine rolls his eyes and pulls your attention back to him when he touches your arm and moves you away from Lemon. You look up at him, still incredibly angry but the touch of his calloused hand on your cheek weakens your anger. "Peach," he whispers and pulls you in as he kisses your forehead, "'M okay, see, 'm not dead," he tells you as if one of his arms isn't in a sling.

"I can take care of myself, you know—" you pout, but you let him hold you close. 

"I know. But ya have me now. You've always had me," Tangerine says and looks you in the eyes, "I wasn't thinking, okay? I was just scared of losing ya. Can ya forgive me?" 

He says it so softly you have no choice but to accept his demand and you nod. 

"Lucky me," Tangerine chuckles and then kisses your lips sweetly. You roll your eyes at him when he drapes his suit coat over your shoulders to keep you warm as you walk back to the car but you lean into him anyway. Lemon trails behind you both, pouting. 

When he catches up, he says, "No kissing in front of me, alright?!"

"No promises," Tangerine winks at you and nuzzles his chin in your hair.

"Ugh, Peach, dump this arsehole already!" Lemon sounds exasperated by you both and you laugh, deciding to add a little salt to the wound. 

"But Daddy, I love him," you fake a whine in a high-pitched voice, quoting one of Lemon's favorite movies. Lemon, although understanding the reference, looks absolutely horrified at this.

"Don't call me that!"

"Don't call him that," Tangerine deadpans at the same time as his brother and pulls you in closer. You giggle when his mustache tickles your ear as he jokes in a whisper that you can only call him that when the time is right.

Lemon loses his shit when he hears his brother and he immediately pretends to gag for the rest of the walk back to the car. 

[saintescuderia]

STUCK ON THE PUZZLE // DR3

(a pancakes! one-shot)

AKA - how daniel's famed 2018 monaco win was the beginning of the end

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: hi there. apologies for being mia. lot of life changes. here's something i started pre-hiatus. also shout out to dr3, mans had such an impact on my life. the prince who would've been king. words: 9.6k (strap yourself in kids) warnings: angst. like a whole lot. breakup. bit of cheating. etc. (was cathartic to write tbh)

You loved Daniel. 

You had loved Daniel with your whole being. 

Because Daniel was not someone to take half-heartedly. People either loved him or hated him - there was no in between. And when you first properly met Daniel, sticking chopsticks under the gums of his mouth to make a young Max Verstappen laugh after a bad race, you found your mouth falling open at the sight of such person. 

“Hi! Nice to meet you. I’m Daniel!” He had smiled with his whole face, eyes crinkling even all those years ago when the sun had yet made its mark on his face. A younger, fresh-faced Daniel still smiled with his whole being. Seeing Daniel smile made it feel as if the sun had decided to stop shining on the world - and, instead, focus all its rays onto you. A singular sort of warmth filled you from head to toe as you met the famous Red Bull driver who somehow made everything around him a few shades lighter, warmer, more yellow. 

Love. 

You fell in the category of people that loved Daniel Ricciardo. 

To say that you fell in love then and there would be an insult for the love that steadily grew within you for the beautiful boy who lit up your entire world. Because he did. Every time you walked into a room and found him there, you found yourself able to breathe easier. It was as if you finally could gasp at air, unaware you had been holding your breath until then, until you saw him.

When you would later talk to your therapist about it all, you would compare to when you were younger and had really bad asthma. 

“Daniel was like my puffer. I could breath easier around him.” You had said. “Now it just feels like I’m drowning again.” 

The first time you had properly hung out with Daniel, it was because of Max. Your best friend had dragged you to some campfire that Daniel was having with a bunch of his friends. You felt awkward and out of place since Daniel had invited Max - not you. Still, Max was adamant you come. At the very least, you could keep each other company. Or so Max had argued by way of finally convincing you.

And so you followed Max through the nice looking beach house Daniel had rented out. It was even more picturesque with the sun that was just about to set. Your grip on the two cases of beer you had brought with you now becoming a lifeline as the social anxiety set in. 

Walking closer, you heard music. Soft strums of a guitar playing. It was interrupted by a loud round of raucous laughter. You took a deep breath. 

Daniel was playing the guitar. He was laughing. And you finally exhaled. 

God, he looked beautiful. There was no other way to describe him.

Your crush aside, even a blind man had to admit it. The whole scene of him was beautiful. To this day, you could paint the picture clear as ever. The black and white striped Stüssy shirt, the bright pink board shorts and the bare feet. Tattoos spotted all over his body.

He was sitting right in the middle of everyone, a half drunk corona light - lime, not lemon - pushed in the neck of the beer bottle by his tattooed thigh. The flickering lights of the dancing flames shining on his tanned skin as the sun continued its slow decent to the horizon behind him.

“Ah, here they are!” Daniel said, putting the guitar away as he spotted you and Max. His smile grew and he stood up to dap Max. You, however, were awkward as fuck. You gave a general wave to everyone else, the boys nodding or holding up their beer in greeting. You suddenly realised how there were all guys here and felt even more out of place. 

But then Daniel turned to look at you. 

“Uh, hey. I brought more beer.” You immediately said because you weren’t sure what else to say.

“Oh, thank you! Legend!” Daniel said, taking them from you and setting them down. He then turned to give you a hug and you found yourself holding back. His arm went right around you and you wanted nothing more than to that just melt into him. Did everyone find him this cuddly?

“Did you find the place alright?” 

It took you a second to realise he was asking you, and not Max. Daniel’s eyes were on you. His big brown eyes and the wide smile, teeth and all. On you.

“Uh, yeah. Actually no.” You said, realising you were just on auto pilot and needed to snap out of the nerves. “Max wouldn’t listen to my directions.”

“Tsk, Maxie. You need to listen to her. Look what listening to her got you.” Daniel said to the boy behind you who was now sat, holding a beer. Max had recently been upgraded from Torro Rosso to Red Bull and, as such, now went to social events like Daniel Ricciardo's private hang outs.

Though why Max made you come with him was beyond you. 

“You’re lucky to have a trainer like this one, mate.” 

You had to steel yourself from that compliments Daniel was giving you. You watched him open the esky and dump the beers you had bought into it. He then pulled a cold bottle out and opened it to shove a lime into the neck. Daniel then turned to you, hand slightly outstretched. “I’m gonna guess beer is okay since you brought more?”

“Yeah, no worries.” You said even though you were trying to cut and technically weren't supposed to drink. It was one of the many reasons you thought it not fitting to come but Max had just dismissed a hand anyway.

You watched Daniel use a keychain to open the bottle lid and felt the need to also explain, “Max kept saying I should come but I didn't realise it would be all guys and - ” You were interrupted as Daniel handed you the drink. “- oh, thank you.”

“Don’t worry. I wanted you to come. I told Max to bring you.”

“You… oh.” You found yourself unable to form a response at that. Your body did that for you. Your cheeks warming up with the blush that set in. 

“Yeah. You’re cool. And we always have fun so it’s nice to shoot the shit outside of the garage and all the cameras of the Paddock.” Daniel said. “But, uh yeah my bad. I hope you don’t mind us guys. All these guys are lame and don’t have any girlfriends.” He raised his voice, aiming the last part at his friends who were all sitting just to the side. 

One of his friends flipped him off. “Oi mate, neither do you!”

“Yet.” Another said quietly, taking a sip of his beer as he did so. The friend beside him laughed. You found yourself blushing even more and you wanted to meet Max’s eyes - but the idiot was too busy looking up at the sky. 

Fuck's sake, Verstappen.

“Anyway, listen since we finally have a girl here you can give us advice.” One of the boys called out as you came to sit down. You ignored how Daniel didn’t go back to where he was sitting before, opting to sit next to you on a log that was definitely too small for two people. “So our mate Tommy here is slowly falling into the friend-zone. Tell him what he needs to do.” 

And so the night passed where you hung out with Daniel Ricciardo and his friends. The sensitive soul, Tommy, who was in love with his neighbour. The trainer Blake who had known Daniel since they were both three years old - and it showed in how many inside jokes they had. The cousin Corey, who worked as a teacher and was a serious lightweight. Then, of course, there was Max. You hadn’t realised how close Daniel and Max had gotten but seeing them outside of racing suits put a new perspective on their friendship with how integrated Max was with the rest of Daniel’s friends.

It all made the imposter syndrome deepen. Even though the boys included you in the jokes and explained the context behind all their stories, you couldn’t get it out of your head. Why were you here exactly?

And so on the drive back home, you grilled Max. Incessantly.

“Daniel called me said if you would be down. I said yes.” Max explained. “Maybe it was a mistake. Were you that uncomfortable?”

“Yes. No. They were all guys.” Your response was pathetic at best. That reason wasn’t justification enough. Most of your social circles lay in cars and sports. As such, Max gave you an odd look and you shook your head. The universe, as if to prove the point, Charles’ name came up on the car screen as your phone started buzzing. 

You pressed decline and huffed. Max gave you another suspicious look. “I’ll call him later. I just — “

“What?”

“I like Daniel!” You finally snapped, saying It. “Alright, Max. I like him. And it’s fucking awkward. I can’t hang out with him like I would with you and Charles and the whole thing is fucking messing with me. We work together, he’s your teammate. More than that, he's Daniel fucking Ricciardo.” You finished with a huff. You ran a hand over your face and took another breath. “So next time he asks you just say no."

“Why?” Max asked calmly, not commenting about your abrupt mental break down. Or even the fact that you had just admitted you liked his teammate. 

“Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you. I don’t agree with you. At least, not for those reasons.” Max said. “You and Daniel are cut from the same cloth. I can see it happening. He might need to grow up a little but…” Max pursed his lips. “It’s you and Daniel.”

“Well there's the big thing about him not ever liking me back.” The tone of retort was a harsh but Max ignored it. 

“Who says he doesn’t?” Max said with a shrug and a smile. “I mean, he asked me to bring you there. Daniel never brings just anyone to those things."

You were silent, pressing your lips together. You couldn’t — Daniel was — what? Daniel didn’t like you. Daniel was just a nice guy. That was — no. You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that fact. You had been crushing on Daniel for how long now? From before you even started working at Torro Rosso and saw a charming Australian grinning widely on the podium beside Seb. You’d always noticed Daniel. 

It was Daniel. 

Daniel remembers all too well the first time he really noticed you.

You had been walking by yourself in the Paddock. It had been a windy day and your hair, curls and all, were blowing from the wind. Music had been playing from the headphones Daniel had kept over his ears during the trip to Paddock.

Now, as he watched you, two things happened simultaneously.

Alex Turner’s voice fills his ears with the lyric: “I’m not the kind of fool whose gonna sit and sing to you about stars, girl.”

His brain buzzes with a sole thought passing through his mind: 'God, she’s beautiful.' 

He blinked and pulled down his headphones. Someone called out your name and you turned to look and see that new Torro Rosso kid bounding up to you. Daniel pulled his headphones back up and shook his head. You were in the uniform so he could easily find you later and talk to you but - nah. What would that achieve? If he was going to approach you, it wasn’t to just be mates. He would want your number. He would want - what? A quick fuck? That wasn't uncommon in the Paddock but that could also get messy if you worked in Red Bull's junior team. He didn't know what you'd be like.

All he knew was that you were beautiful.

Maybe that’s why Daniel didn’t know how to act around you. He was nice, perfectly polite. He would joke around - as he did with everyone. But inside he considered the bonus points for every time his jokes brought you to tears. Because he was always secretly waiting to see if you would laugh or not. 

Daniel joined you and Max for track walks, he got you a coffee every so often, sprayed the champagne directly at you when he won. Then he give you a big hug as everyone rushed to congratulate him. And he would count the seconds where your arm was around him. He basked in that. He liked hugging you. 

But he never asked for your number. He didn’t hit follow when he finally found your Instagram. Which was surprising considering how close you two seemed, how well he got along with you and enjoyed your company. 

“Ah, my phone died. Daniel can you call Y/N? And tell her to bring Max with her.” Christian said, sighing at his dead phone that he set on the table. You and Max were late for a briefing meeting. 

“Oh, I don’t have her number.” Daniel said. Some people looked at him. Even Christian Horner frowned in surprise. 

“What? Oh, uh. Okay. Angela can you try?”

“Sure thing.” 

Daniel wasn’t even sure how he got your number. Probably needing to call you for something and Max gave him the number. Or it very well could’ve been Christian giving it to him. Either way, your name was saved in his phone without much intention.

Because he didn’t have any. He couldn’t. 

As always, there was just that something missing. He had something missing.

But he liked spending time with you. He liked seeing you rip into Max for not following the routine you’d planned for him. He liked seeing you talk soccer so enthusiastically with Guenther Steiner or that Spanish Toro Rosso kid. He liked how nice you were to hospitality workers and kids. He liked how knew cars and even managed to fix the temperamental engine in his own car once or twice. He liked that you never got starstruck and were honest and straightforward and that the gym was your safe spot. He liked how you wore your hair with a bandana — even if meant you often got in trouble with Christian for the 'creative liberties' you took with the Red Bull uniform. And he really liked seeing you in a hoodie. He knew you often wore them outside F1. 

All your interactions had been through Formula 1. Daniel thought about it for five seconds before dropping a message in the group chat during the winter break. 

Catch up in the beach villa. 

Then he dialled Max’s number. “Hey Max! Are you free this weekend? We’re planning on having a bonfire, you should come.” Then Daniel paused and added, “And, hey, bring Y/N with you.”

It was only a few weeks later that Max finally just asked him the question.

“Why don’t you just date her?” Max said as Daniel watched you talk to that Spanish junior, Carlos Sainz, about some soccer team you both liked. Daniel knew Max’s old teammate had a thing for you but Daniel wasn’t worried. Carlos would’ve made a move by now if he had the balls. Then again, Max’s question pointed out the very same thing about him. 

“What?” Daniel asked and then grinned when Max gave him a pointed look. “Ah, Maxie. You’re too young to understand love.”

“I understand that Charles is debuting soon.”

“And?” Daniel asked, puffing his chest. He knew briefly of your connection to another driver, some rich Monaco guy called Charles Leclerc. But you’d always spoken of him like he was your brother. You referred to him as ‘bro.’ From how he understood it, Charles was to you like Blake was to him. Best friends that grew up together. 

Evidently not, according to Max. “And I have seen the way Charles looks at her.”

“Yeah?” Daniel said, staring at how Max’s race engineer, GP, called you over and Carlos watched you walk off. Did you not notice this? Carlos was literally all over you. 

“Yeah. It’s similar to how you look at her.” Max said with a huff. Daniel considered this and suddenly looked away from Carlos to stare at his own two feet - and the fancy sneakers you had bought him.

“Look, you like her, yes?” Daniel looked up at Max who was watching him, expectant. He nodded. “So what’s the issue? I said it before - you both cut from the same cloth. And I say that when her and Charles grew up together. You and her have something… you’re the same.” 

You reappeared with GP beside you, papers in hand that he was clearly reading aloud to you as he gestured to Max’s car ahead of the upcoming race in Germany. You were nodding but then looked up and caught both him and Max looking at you. You smiled widely at them, at him. 

From outside the garage, the wind blew, the papers and your hair rustling.

“I’m not the kind of fool whose gonna sit and sing to you about stars, girl…

Daniel stared at you. He liked you. He really, really liked you. And Max had a point. 

… But last night I looked up into the dark half of the blue. And they'd gone backwards.”

“Alright, deal.” Daniel said, looking at Max. “If we win today, I’ll make a move.” 

“Daniel said that he told Max, ‘If we win today, I’ll make a move.’” You said, looking at the young woman with the notebook in the chair in front of you, “He always liked to leave things to chance and stuff. But, he didn’t win. He came second. Maybe that’s why it failed. Bad luck because he didn’t actually win.” You shifted in your seat, the used tissue in your hands half ripped to shreds. 

“Is it not considered a win if they are on the podium?” Your therapist asked, not very aware of the ins and outs of Formula 1. 

“No, only if you come first.” You explained. “Then it’s a win. In Hockenheimring, Lewis won. Daniel came second and Max was third.” 

Louise, your helpful therapist, jumped in. “But Daniel did say we. So I don't think it mattered much who was first or not."

“So then why would he start something if…” You stopped and found the lump in your throat growing again. You looked down at the tissue that was too ripped up to be of much use. Even with your eyes blurring, you still saw Louise push the tissue box over to you. 

“I think that’s the current problem. It’s not very helpful in your state to go down these rabbit holes of if thinking. Because then we can start hypothesising this and that and you’ll fall into more downward spirals.” Louise said. “Any time a thought begins with ‘if’ I want you to try and practice what we said before about curbing those thoughts.”

If. 

It was something you thought about a lot. 

If, in late July 2016, at the Hockenheimring, Daniel and Max didn’t get on the podium. What would’ve happened then? Would you have still have had the tears in your eyes, feeling like you literally burst from happiness? Would you have stared up at Max filled with love and fondness for the boy who was starting to break through all his past hurt and make it. Seeing Max’s hard work finally pay off and placing on the podium had set you off. 

And he was on the podium alongside Daniel. 

Daniel who had somehow wormed his way deeper and deeper into your heart with every passing day. Christian Horner had even waived the family exception of your contract for Daniel because there was no way he couldn’t. You and Daniel were attached at the hip - even beyond the scope of you training his teammate. 

He had starting joining you in your personal workouts - and now was your workout buddy. He had built up a habit of always asking whoever was sat next to you on the plane to switch. To the point that just last weekend Taylor, a nice PR lady, saw Daniel walk in and immediately started unbuckling her seatbelt to move for him. 

Not Max - him. 

You went for coffee runs during your break with him, not Max. You complained about your day to him, not Max. You wore his DR3 merch, not Max’s. And even though Max was yet to release any of his own branded merch, there was no denying it. 

You fell asleep to Daniel’s voice, not Max’s, sounding through your phone after your call duration ticked over the 2:00:00 mark. 

There was always the nagging thought, though. What are we? Where are we going? Daniel had made it clear many times before that he wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, not at all thinking himself mature for those responsibilities. 

But then he would send you pictures of him with his nieces and nephews. But then you would spend two hours on the phone even after being around each other all day. But then he would fall asleep on your shoulder half way through the movie - and you didn’t have the heart to get him to move. And so you slept beside him. 

You had grown up with the Leclerc boys, all of whom you were super close with. And if you got married tomorrow, you would probably get Max to be your Man of Honour. Being friends with boys was not exactly knew to you. 

With Daniel, it was different. From the very first bonfire, you knew it was different. Hanging out with him was different. You did and said things you didn’t share with just anyone. 

You shared your thoughts, your dreams. You told him how your missed your father and still hated your mother. You told him about the bullying. You told him about the feeling of hollowness you sometimes felt - and the fear that it would never go away. 

“You… you actually make it go away. I never feel it when I’m around you.”

“Then I just need to always be around you, huh.”

Daniel had come 2nd and Max 3rd. You still congratulated Lewis’ 1st place but you were more excited to see your boys and celebrate accordingly. You couldn’t contain yourself seeing them spray the champagne. Your phone was out, snapping as many pictures as possible. In that moment, you felt pure joy. Looking up at them, at your boys, you wanted the moment to never end. 

Daniel then leaned into Max and whispered something. He pointed down, down at you. Max followed his hand and suddenly both the Red Bull drivers were looking at you and spraying their champagne directly at you. The people around you cheered and your name was called out amongst all the ruckus of the celebrations. 

Everything after that race passed by as a blur. You couldn’t even tell Louise how it happened. The boys had to go to the cooldown room and then the media with the post-race briefing. However, in amidst all of that, you managed to see Daniel. 

Still in his race suit, the top half hanging off his hips and his entire body and hair drenched in sweat. Your face lit up seeing him walk towards you. 

“Hey, there you are! Wait, aren’t you supposed to be in media? Where’s Max — “

Daniel didn’t even say anything. He just grabbed you and wrapped his arms around you to press his lips against yours. When he eventually pulled back to rest his head on yours, he said something that set you off. 

“Okay, what now?”

You should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known back then. It wasn’t even the wishful if thinking. You just should’ve seen it coming when he was asking you what the next move was. 

But back then, you were too dumb to know better. Back then, you were still trying to process the kiss, let alone his words. Back then, all you wanted to do was kiss him again. 

And so you did. 

Being with Daniel reminded you of one key factor - you either loved or hated him. You couldn’t be indifferent to the guy. He was not to be taken lightly. And much like he was not to be taken light, he also himself did not take things lightly. 

When he laughed, Daniel laughed with his whole body. 

When he cried, Daniel let the sobs wreck through his whole entire being. 

No one saw that, though. Daniel never let anyone get close to that side of him. You had come close, but he always still held you at arms length. Even in the peak of everything, when the sun was shining and the flowers smelt sweet and you two were in the utter bliss of the honeymoon period… he always had a part of him that he didn’t let anyone get to. Not even you. 

You had tried. Many times. But he wouldn’t. 

He would just smile, shake his head and say he was “wired that way.” Then he would shut you off and you would be left to try and pick up the pieces until the door slowly fell ajar once more. 

Because you loved Daniel. You loved Daniel with your whole being. And if all he could give you were these pieces… then surely it would be enough? You loved him, and Daniel loved you. 

He loved you in how he arrived to work every day with your coffee order “extra hot so it’s still nice and warm for you.” He loved you in how he spent the time every night doing your rehab with you after the foot injury. He loved you in the goofy selfies he sneakily took on your phone for you to later find, in the hoodies he bought as “joint custody for me and you.” He loved you in the lyrics he would randomly text you of songs he thought you might like or that reminded him of you.  

He also loved you in how he was always driving you anywhere and everywhere. In the three years you were with Daniel, you probably needed your license once. And that was for the time you had to pick him up from the airport - flowers and sign abandoned on the floor when you saw him walk through the gate and you rushed and jumped into his arms.

He loved you in all of this. He just never said the words to you. 

But that was fine because you still had him. You had the Daniel who ran on the treadmill beside you, who stopped by Max’s side of the garage to give you a hug and a coffee, who cracked jokes when you were stressed and made you feel seen. Any time you felt yourself floating away, Daniel was right there to ground you, the asthma puffer to make you smile and breathe.

So, for a while, you managed to live in bliss. 

Even with all teammate drama, it worked. Somehow. Sometimes you needed to step in between the two highly competitive men and remind them of how they were friends. Occasionally you might use the ‘it’s hurting me’ card which wasn’t the biggest lie. Max was like a brother to you and Daniel - Daniel made you start thinking about guest lists and buying property. The entirety of 2016 and 2017 was marked with such joy from the fact that you had your best-friend and boyfriend always beside you. 

The late night car rides where you and Daniel argued about music. Or the late night Fifa championships where you and Max argued about football. Or, your personal favourite, the early morning meetings where you all three took the piss with an exasperated Christian Horner.

In short, you felt yourself finally making a family for yourself. This wasn’t yo, an added extension of the Leclerc family - this was you and what you had built for yourself.

In fact, you were starting to feel that your world and Daniel’s were becoming all the more closer. Tommy called you every so often for girl advice, Blake and you sending each other gym memes and Corey needing your help to buy Daniel a birthday present. It seemed like the years of loneliness was starting to pay off and God was finally giving you what you had spent so long wishing for. 

Of course, nothing stays the same. The one certainty about life is that everything changes. 

It happened during the Hungary Grand Prix. You had gotten a call from Pascale about a family friend’s upcoming wedding. You had received the invitation from the bride herself not too long after that in a group chat with you, her fiancé and Charles. You four had all gone to school together anyway. 

Her wedding was just over a year away but she wanted to know RSVP’s ASAP because it was happening Monaco and she needed to plan around the Grand Prix. Such was life. 

Not thinking much about it, you told Daniel.

“Oh, yeah sure. May - wait, that’s like… next year?” He said, pausing what he was doing on his phone to stare at you, confused. 

“Yeah. She needs to know responses because I think she’s planning to have it close to the Grand Prix so the venue needs numbers now.” You explained. “But it’ll be nice since you’ll be there anyway and you can finally meet Charles and the Leclercs properly. I can show you where I grew up and - “

“Uh, I mean. Babe, that’s kind of far away.” Your enthusiasm slowly died seeing the tells of Daniel slipping away slightly. He brought his hood up and went back to his phone. 

“Ah… yeah.” You said. For some reason, that feeling was coming back. Panic. Stress. Unease. You tried to play it off. “I can… go with Charles, if you don’t think you can make it.” 

“No. Fuck that I’m your… Charles can - no.” Daniel shook his head. “Look can we just…” He let out an exhale and sat on the hotel bed and pulled up a pillow behind him. “What do you wanna do for dinner?”

“I - “ You tried to think of answer but food was the furthest thing on your mind. You looked down at your phone and Charles’ response to the save the date chat. 

Felicitations ! Of course I will be there with my family !

You knew you had to respond but hated that you couldn’t send your own message with the same level of surety. Will you be there? And with Daniel? The bride was asking how many plus ons to pass the number of heads to the venue. Charles had made it clear. You - not so much. 

“I need to know Daniel.” You said, feeling a bit fed up of not being able to be sure of things with Daniel. “She’s asking me for numbers. Do I put you down or not?”

Daniel let out of very heavy sigh. "Does this really matter right now?"

“Yes it does.” You stuck to your gun. “I mean, what’s the problem? That it’s in a years time?”

“I’m not having this conversation.” He immediately dismissed and went to fluff the pillow, hitting it with a little too much force. 

“Well I want to have it. What’s the problem?” You asked, coming round to stand in front of where he was sitting. “You literally couldn’t even say it before.”

“Say what?”

“Boyfriend. When I said I can go with Charles you said ‘No, fuck that I’m... ’ and then trailed off. Like you always do.”

“I don’t always trail off.”

“Yes, you do! I mean, we’ve been together for how many months and we’ve never even had the conversation about it being official.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Daniel said with a dry laugh. “Seriously? Are we fourteen and kissing in a tree also?”

You frowned and felt the hurt wash over you. It was one thing for him to not understand but to make a joke about it. You clenched your hands into fists, the nails digging into your palms. “Daniel.” You said, trying to be calm. “It feels, to me, like you’re scared to fucking commit.”

“Oh for fuck's sake, babe! What? Because I don’t know if I can make it to a fucking wedding in a year!” Daniel yelled back. He then pushed himself off the bed. “Fuck this, I’m going out.”

“Daniel! We’re talking.”

“Yeah? I’m done talking.” 

The door slammed on his way out. Daniel didn’t come back to the hotel room. Around 3am you texted Max to see if Daniel had gone there instead. 

No, he’s not with me.  Are you okay? Did something happen?

You didn’t respond. You just continued to cry in the pillows of the too large hotel bed. They still smelled like him. 

Max swore it was not because of you. 

But then you saw how cold he’d been to Daniel all weekend. But then you saw the crash on the opening lap.

Max cared about you, and seeing you cry about Daniel pissed him off. 

You heard Daniel swearing on the radio as he spun out of the race. Thankfully, he recovered to 6th, his original starting position behind Max, who also originally started 5th. All in all, it could’ve been much worse. Still, everyone in the garage was fuming. A few members gave you the side eye, knowing your relationship between the two of them. You couldn’t even be mad at the “trouble in paradise” comments because, well, they were true.

You went to Daniel’s driver room and let yourself in. 

“I said don’t bother me for — oh.”

“Hi.” You said, closing the door behind you. You went to him and kneeled down on the ground to bring yourself eye level to him. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your driver?” He asked, not meeting your eyes. 

You took a breath, ignoring it and letting him just let it out. Instead, you forced a smile on your face and look at him with gentle eyes. “I’m with my boyfriend.”

“I can’t say that word, remember?” His voice was sardonic and you rolled your eyes. 

"Can we stop it with the dumb shit?" You said and lifted a hand to his face. "None of that matters right now."

"I thought it did."

"Daniel." You exhaled. "Where do I go home to?"

"What?" He frowned and gave you a confused look that bordered on annoyance. You ignored it and repeated your question.

"Home. Where is it?"

He frowned. "Fucking Monaco? I don't know."

"True. I go to Monaco and dump my bags at your doorway, kick off my shoes by your mat and raid your fridge. Every track, I leave Max's garage and go to your hotel room. You're home. That's all the matters."

Daniel's face changed at your words. Gone were the tells of anger and now you saw something that hurt a little more - the sadness. Daniel being sad felt unnatural. To see the happy-go-lucky boy do anything but smile felt wrong.

"This weekend has been a shit run. Not just on track. But don't think that means I'm not still by you."

Daniel's eyes welled. He put a hand over yours. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

You weren't sure what he was sorry for. So you ignored it. And you smiled at him. "It's okay. I'm here. And I love you."

He didn't say it back. But he hugged you. And for that moment, it was enough.

After a while, a new pattern emerged between you two. 

You and Daniel would be good. In fact, you would get closer and closer. He would get a tattoo of something that symbolised you. You would change your emergency contact to him. You two would get so close in fact that you would continue to be deluded that everything was fine and that you were both on the same page of where you would both heading. 

Then something like your friend's wedding would happen. 

Daniel doesn’t politely reject the advances of the model hitting on him at some PR event. Or he ignores you for most of said PR event. He goes on a three day fishing trip without telling you about it. He gets mad that you planned a week in Hawaii for summer break without telling him.

He doesn’t say I love you back. 

Not that he ever did. It was the common recurrence. But sometimes his lack of response to the three words hurt you more than others. Especially because you would say them hoping that that time would be enough for him to say it. Because you needed to hear him say it. Just once. 

Maybe if he said it, you would’ve been fine. If he said it, then you wouldn’t feel the need to say it less. If he said it, you wouldn’t get hurt when he declined moving in together, when he made up an excuse as to why he couldn't go for dinner with Pascale and the Leclercs.

If he said it, you wouldn’t get mad when he left you at a party to hang out with Heidi Klum or some other Victoria Secret model. If he said it, you wouldn’t find yourself stressing between the hours of 11pm to 3am when he didn’t answer his phone and no one seemed to know where he was. 

You and Daniel would be good, great even. 

Then someone would happen that made you need to bring up the future, the reality of you and him. 

Daniel would then freak out and close himself off. This would end up in an argument. 

And then he would disappear and leave you for the night. Maybe a whole day if it was really bad. 

But he would come home and you would make up and things would seem better, stronger even, as you both got closer. He would get another tattoo, burn you an actual CD mix of songs and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. 

Looking back, that should’ve been the part that made you end it. The toxic cycle you had found yourself in with Daniel was not helping anyone. It was dangerous and damaging and even Max was getting sick of it. “I said you were both cut from the same cloth but I also said Daniel needed to grow up a little bit.” 

Because Daniel wasn’t ready to stop having fun. That fact never became more apparent than it did when it came to the 2018 Monaco Grand Prix. 

And if Max was starting to get tired of you and Daniel, then Charles was beyond over it. 

“Where’s Daniel?” Charles blue/green eyes shone in the sun as he helped unhaul your bags from the taxi. 

“He’s coming later. Apparently, there’s a yacht party. Don’t tell your mum. Pascale invited him to breakfast and I feel bad.” Charles opened his mouth and you gave him a look. “It’s impolite, I know. We just had a fight and I don’t feel like talking about it.”

“A fight about what?” Charles asked, rolling your bags into the Monaco home you and him had grown up in. And it was this very home that you and Daniel had argued about. 

You saw Monaco as a way to be at home with your family - to get your yearly haircut (yes, yearly) from Pascale and visit Hervé’s grave. But it was also time for you and Charles to hang out the house the two of your grew up in. To play Mario Kart with Arthur, workout with Lorenzo or cook dinner with Pascale. You liked to be at home with your family and take it slow. 

Whereas Daniel didn’t see Monaco as this. Instead, he was hitting up every party, every club. He was sleeping on yachts and drinking his weight in mimosas for breakfast. At first, you had accepted it, thinking that maybe that was just the Formula 1 driver life style. 

But Max never did this. And Charles had invited Lando, George and Alex over to play video games and have lunch. A lunch that was likely going to be cooked by you and Pascale. They weren’t going out clubbing or anything. And you saw Carlos Sainz up bright and early every morning when you tapped in at 6am to go the local gym.

No, it was just Daniel being Daniel who wanted to follow any sounds of heavy bass, laughter or glass clinking. Sure, he wasn’t the only person in F1 who did this - quite a few tended to - but you had hoped that now he was with you that he could give Monaco a chance to be a place of calm, a place for family. Weren't you guys growing up and sharing your lives together? Wouldn't that mean he saw Monaco for what it meant to you, and not what he always knew it to be; a hunting ground for a good party.

It didn't help that Charles was always feeding into these thoughts. Like right now when he sighed deeply and went on to say. “The boys are coming at midday.” He said, seeing your lack of response as Charles set your stuff down in the spare room that was, really, just your room. “You’re more than welcome to join.” 

“I might take a nap.” You said, looking at the bed. “Or go for a run.”

“I think Lorenzo was going to go for one.” Charles said. 

“Actually I might go by myself.” You went to unzip the bag but Charles’ hand came over to yours. You looked up at him and Charles quietly used your hand to pull you into him. He wrapped his arms around you and you tucked your head in between his shoulder and neck. 

Then, you started to cry. 

Daniel was driving beautifully.

He finished first in all three practice sessions. Come qualifying, he was one with the car and it would not at all be a surprise to anyone if he got pole position. 

Max was fairing much worse. He had crashed in FP3 and the mechanics had been unable to fix it for ready for qualifying. You knew seeing Daniel do well was only adding salt to the wound and after doing all you could, felt it best to leave Max alone in his room for now. Besides, you needed to see where Daniel finished in Qualifying. 

“Excuse me, where is the VIP section?”

“Oh, who are you?”

“Monica Richelli. I’m a friend of Daniel Ricciardo’s.” 

It was hearing his name that had you turning to look. There in front of you was perhaps one of the most beautiful women you had ever seen. And considering your time in Formula 1 and the constant parade of models back and forth, that was saying something.

However, as your time in Formula 1 had taught you, the constant parade of models back and forth was usually for one thing. Models were never just friends of someone. Everyone knew. You knew. The guest pass, the way she smiled coyly, the fact that this was Monaco.

You wanted to throw up.

Qualifying suddenly became background noise. The rest of the time in the garage you stood there unable to focus on anything else. Monica. Her name was Monica. She has beautiful blonde hair. She has great posture. You stared at the effortless way she stared at the screens with the headphones on, as if that in itself was a posed picture for a brand. Her waist was thinner than anything you could ever train yourself to get. Her fingers were long and delicate and covered with pretty gold rings. She was so pretty. You wanted to cry. You wanted to throw up. You wanted to scream and die and get rid of this feeling because why did Daniel invite some pretty girl to the Monaco Grand Prix?

Daniel got pole position. Unsurprisingly. You ignored the fact that you were not the first person he celebrated with. We need to be discrete. We've always needed to be discrete.

You ignored the way he gave her a big hug, the way Monica wrapped his arms around your boyfriend. You shook your head. Many girls had thrown themselves at Daniel. Horner had given you many apologetic looks over the years when a sponsor's daughter got too comfortable with your boyfriend and Christian nor Daniel could do much since, well, they were a sponsor's daughter.

This was just like all those times. Daniel is excited and everything's fine.

That thought became a bit more concrete in your mind when Daniel finally did come up to you. Away from the cameras, he lifted you up in his arms and screamed.

"Fucking pole baby!"

The energy had you bursting out into laughter. He pressed kisses all over your face and you felt all your anxiety melt away. This was Daniel. Your Daniel. He loved you.

Tucked away in his Driver's Room, you two could finally be. You and him. No one else. Seeing him like this, you forced all the doubts and worries of earlier out of your mind. He's a driver and he's currently competing against Max right now. Daniel's had a lot on his mind and you could excuse all the funny behaviour as Monaco stress.

"I'm proud of you." You said, grinning wide. Seeing him so happy, you could excuse it all. This... this was worth it.

"Man, I feel good. I'm feeling so good." He said, taking off his helmet. "I'm going to win this. I feel it."

"I know you will." You smiled, letting him hand you his helmet. "Just remember to keep that part in portier - "

"Daniel?"

You both turned to see a pretty head of hair peeking her head in his doorway. Your eyes grew seeing Monica there. Your stomach dropped and whatever reprieve you had felt suddenly was ripped apart as that feeling came right back.

"Oh hey Mon." He grinned. "Good to see you."

The growing ache in your chest hurt just that little bit more hearing the nickname. Mon.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." She said smiling, letting herself in through the door. Your mouth fell open at the familiarity and, well, audacity. "I just wanted to congratulate you on pole. I hear that's the secret to winning in Monaco."

"Yeah it is." Daniel laughed. Ever so cheerful, ever so happy, ever so easy-going. Completely different to how you were feeling inside.

"Oh, sorry. Is this your assistant?" Mon's eyes finally fell to you.

For a second, all the anxiety was replaced with white hot anger at the fucking gall of this bitch. "Excuse the fuck outta me - "

Daniel said your name. You stopped and looked at him. He didn't meet your eyes. Enraged, you forced yourself to bite your tongue.

"This is Max's trainer. She was just helping me out since he DNF'ed. Shall I meet you outside?"

"Yes, that sounds lovely." Mon's eyes darted to you once more before she smiled up at Daniel then she left the room.

He just got pole in Monaco. He just got pole in Monaco. He just got pole in Monaco. He just got pole in Mon -

"Who the fuck is she Daniel?"

You couldn't help yourself.

"Come on, I just got pole in Monaco."

"I know. And you just dismissed me as Max's trainer."

"That isn't the first time we've had to do this. You knew what it was going to be like dating me." Daniel argued back. His voice was clipped and, to be fair, you couldn't understand why. He had just gotten pole in Monaco and you were arguing with him about a girl. Daniel was right, there were numerous times where you two had to downplay your relationship in front of some sponsor or big name.

If anything, him doing that should just be reassuring that this was another case of some random big wig's daughter they had to appease and play the game again with.

But... you just had that feeling.

She had come into his room.

"Daniel. How does she know you?"

"Maybe because I'm a fucking Formula 1 driver and it's the fucking Monaco Grand Prix."

"Don't speak to me like that."

"Then don't be a fucking idiot." Daniel dismissed. "What do you want me to say? Why are you jumping down my throat right now about some girl? Now? When I just got pole? You're my girlfriend. Shouldn't you be celebrating with me? Not worried about some dumb shit in your head."

"It's not in my fucking head. Since when has a some sponsorship bitch come into your room? We're in Monaco and this shit doesn't even happen with Charles and - "

"Fuck's sake!" Daniel snapped. "I don't fucking need this right now!"

And then he stormed off.

And his helmet was still in your hands.

You looked down to the DR3 print and saw yourself in the reflection. You weren't sure at what point you started to cry.

The celebrations for Monaco 2018 were some of the worst days of your life.

Even after Daniel won and fell into the pool, something didn't feel right inside, in your gut. Naturally, the parties went all night long and Red Bull spared no expense. Even Max eventually got over his own shit weekend and mood and join in the festivities.

But you weren't. No amount of alcohol helped seeing your boyfriend dance with all those girls. Not that you could drink. It felt like anything you consumed might just come right back out.

Monica had been there every single second. You had to watch as she sat in his lap, as she pressed kisses on his cheek. Max was nowhere to be seen and Charles had decided to leave the parties to go spend time with the family. Something you really should be doing. But you couldn't drag yourself away from it.

It hurt, it down right fucking sucked to watch Daniel like this - completely in his element and overjoyed - and that you were in no way part of his picture.

"You should go home."

You looked to where the Spanish-lilted voice disrupted the tunnel vision you had on Daniel pouring tequila straight into Monica's mouth.

Carlos was smiling softly at you. He had a gin and tonic in his hand and was dressed in a white linen shirt. You frowned, wondering since when he looked so grown up. Like a man.

"You look like a man." Maybe you were a lot more drunk than you had thought.

His smile became slightly amused. "Maybe because I am, bella."

You smiled at the pet name and found yourself tilting your head to the side. "Did you shave?"

His amused smile turned into an all out laugh. "I did. I felt like Monaco needed a clean face."

You nodded, considering this. In hindsight, the alcohol was a blessing since you could stand here and talk to Carlos about his hair habits and have a momentary reprieve that that was the only thing your mind was processing.

Not the girl dancing on your boyfriend.

"Ricciardo doesn't deserve you."

You looked up at Carlos. He was staring at the scene you had been studying for the past two hours, ever since you had arrived. You had decided to play a toxic game with yourself where you would wait until Daniel asked about you and then you would reveal yourself. After forty five minutes of this game, you ended up at the bar wondering you were even in this relationship. If you could even call it that.

"Thanks Carlos."

"Can you let me take you home?" Carlos asked. "Please."

You blinked at this, at his gentle insistence. You knew it stemmed from pity, that he really wanted to save you from the embarrassment that was your partner going off with anyone woman right in front of you.

"Okay."

Carlos helped you up and put a gentle hand on your back as he guided you out of the club. You thought it very kind and gentlemanly of him. And whilst Carlos would pride himself on being a gentlemen, the real act of kindness was guiding you away so you wouldn't see Daniel stick his tongue down a model's throat.

Carlos' kindness, however, was short-lived. He blames himself. He had wanted to take you for the scenic route around Monaco, get your mind off of it. He bought you ice-cream and was pleased that he would be walking a now smiling you to your hotel room.

Only that you'd open your door and be met with groans and moans. Familiar groans and moans.

Daniel. With multiple women.

In the hotel room you both had shared. As you always had shared. Your home. Supposedly.

You said nothing. What could you say? You weren't exactly prepared to go in there and scream and wail about him - him -- Daniel your -

No.

You found yourself closing the door. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

"Please... don't tell anyone." You spoke to the man beside you.

"Bella..." He began in a soft voice.

"Please Carlos."

"Of course." He said and reached for your hand. You looked down at him reaching for your fingers, holding them oh so gently. "You've asked me to."

Carlos pressed your fingers to his lips. Your eyes watered at the kindness.

"Please don't cry about that fool."

But you did. Carlos pulled you close as your tears spilled. You weren't sure how or when but Carlos had brought you into another hotel room, one less flash and in retrospect, it had to be his. But in that moment, nothing made sense. Your attention was focused on one thing and one thing alone: Daniel didn't want you.

And so you spent the entire night crying on the bathroom floor.

And it wasn't even yours.

Charles eventually found out.

Not from Carlos. You were surprised he stuck to his word. He had reached out in the few days following Monaco but you ignored him. You just didn't - you couldn't.

It happened, again, in the bathroom. You were brushing your teeth in Charles' ensuite. He knew something was up - you were always asking what he was up to and if you could do whatever with him. Not that Charles minded but he knew you. You were avoiding something.

And if you wanted to avoid Carlos and Daniel and even Max, that was doable. But you couldn't have foresaw the text you'd get one random day.

I didn't realise you were his girlfriend. I'm sorry. He never told me.

You stared the message. Three lines. You stared at them for a good few minutes. Then came the three dots dancing. Then came the screenshots. All the screenshots. Screenshots of Daniel messaging Mon. Messages that dated all the way back before Hungary.

You had toothpaste in your mouth. You immediately spat it out. Then you went to the toilet and heaved. The sounds of vomiting must've alerted Charles because in he came and held your hair back.

You cried and cried. It all broke you again. You don't remember at what point you were verbal enough to tell Charles. Or maybe he read your phone. Nonetheless, Charles somehow figured out what happened and boy was he furious.

That had caused some commotion in the Leclerc household since Charles was all ready to grab his keys and drive to Ricciardo's place. It took Lorenzo being the calm, sensible elder to point a finger at you and ask Charles what was really important now.

"Pense à elle! Maintenant, elle est la plus importante!"

And so the t-shirt Charles had been wearing, a strippy oversized T you'd bought him one random Tuesday, became ruined from your tears. Snot, mascara, the works.

You slept in Charles' arms that night.

You woke up in Charles' arms the next morning.

You spent the day in Charles' bed.

You spent the next week in Charles' bed.

Charles went with Lorenzo to pick up your stuff from Daniel's apartment. Charles copped the earful from Pascale for punching Daniel in the face when the Australian kept probing him for information on your radio silence. Charles bought you a new phone and set it up - making sure to block Daniel's number. Charles sat through all the Top Gear reruns. Charles made sure you ate, even just a little bit. Charles organised a lawyer for you to speak to Christian Horner and Daniel Ricciardo. Charles prepared the paperwork for you to move from Red Bull to join him at Sauber and then, God hoping, Ferrari afterwards.

"Imagine it mon tresor! You and I at Ferrari. We win the Championship and you can fuck off all the idiots." You smiled at Charles who was once again doing the most to make you smile.

"Thank you Charles." You said, smiling at the beautiful boy. You were laying on his bed and Charles jumped on to land on his stomach with an oof.

He booped your nose and then rolled over to turn on the TV and cast the next Top Gear special onto the flatscreen. "Okay, Middle Eastern special. Vas-y!"

You looked at your best friend, your Charles. The break-up with Daniel was going to suck - it was sucking - but Charles made it all the more easier. Everything would get easier. 'Just give it time.' As he said. In time, you'd be working with him and not have to ever talk to Daniel Ricciardo ever again.

It's okay. You reminded yourself of this fact over and over again. Looking over at Charles, you felt some serenity. It would suck, but you knew you could live life without Daniel Ricciardo. But losing Charles? God help you, you'd probably die.

A month later, Charles left.

taglist:

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@itsjustkhaos @sam-is-lost @laneyspaulding19 @formula1mount @bokutos-babyowl

@stampiej @alilcloudy @bingussthirdtoe @lilymurphy03 @inlovewmarlenemckinnon

@charllleclerc @richardniixon @sp1rl @nikfigueiredo @lozzamez3

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@bloodyymaryyy @a-beaverhausen @bokutos-babyowl @tsireyasgf

[shayasay]

2024 tbhk x reader writers gang UP !!!! I'd like to request for Teru, Akane, and Lemon x reader who's very...open? Like they have a out of pocket humour, says the most inappropriate jokes in the wrong time (the sc president/teacher almost caught them 😔) and isn't afraid to be chaotic. Being with them somehow never becomes boring because theres always some shit going on (like almost falling off a building or getting involved with the cops) BOY are they special. Just Akane is fine if you dont feel like writing for 3 people but either way thank you v much🙏

(Extra scenes:

Akane: how to get red dye?

Reader: idk period blood

Akane: *jaw drops to the floor*

--------

Reader: *telling the wildest inappropriate gossip ever*

Teru who heard and is standing right behind them:

-------

Lemon and reader: *had a 1 hour deep talk with lemon sitting on a bench*

Reader, about to leave: oh and btw, that bench was newly painted *walks away*

HIII YES OF COURSEEEEE I HOPE THIS IS OKAY I really tried my best on it! And I wrote this at 2 am I hope this satisfies 😭🩷

————————————————————————

With a reader who makes out of pocket jokes

Featuring: Akane, Lemon and Teru!

Akane

- Blushes when you say something inappropriate towards him no questions asked

- This one time he was teaching how to make origami and you said something inappropriate

- He paused for a good minute and scared at you, gawking with wide eyes and blushing

- “Okay so you’re gonna wanna fold this part here” “Shit I wish I was that piece of paper so you could fold me” “…I’m sorry?”

- There be times where you would just ask him questions, questions such as for example what part of the day was his favourite

- “Akane question?” “Shoot” “what time of day is your favourite?” “night time!” “Great so me, you, tonight, in my bed.” “…”

- he blushed and tried to say something but literally failed, he stuttered so much he just honestly gave up.

- Like sometimes you whisper things in his ear n he’d just stare and gawk at you in disbelief

- You toyed with him once while he was speaking to Teru and he tried so hard to not blush or make it look like he was flustered

- News flash, he failed.

- Teru was laughing at his ass afterwards

- or times where you were whispering the most jaw dropping shit into his ear and Teru heard it all and saw he’s reaction as well

- Teru never let him live it DOWN

Teru

- Will stare at you in disbelief and will quite literally say “I beg your pardon?”

- He once was painting something for the school with a bucket of white paint and to make things worse it fell on him

- He called you and asked you for help

- and what did you say? “Teru is that cu-“ “Get out.” “WAIT IM SORRY”

- There’s been so many times where you whispered the most jaw dropping shit into his ear and his giving you the biggest “I’m sorry?” ass look

- You actually told him some good ass drama and he listened to the whole thing while even gawked here n there because of the OUTRAGEOUS things he’s been hearing

- He’s lowkey willing to give Akane his work load just to here the things you tell him

- “Psst… Teru.” “Hm?” “Are you a trampoline? Because I’d really like to bounce on you.”

- *Queue you sprinting out the room as he’s at his desk so lost at weither he should be shocked or appreciate what you said and take it like a compliment

- “I…. what?…” “Y/n-“ “…..”

- Akane having heard that just giving you and him the most judgemental look ever

Lemon

- You tell him the most jaw dropping drama n he handles it like nothing

- You jokes just make him pause for a good second and then resume back to what he was doing

- you once whispered into his ear “you tryna bounce that ass for me?”

- he just stopped scrolling on TikTok and did a slow turn to look at you with the most judgmental look

- “No… I’m not…”

- You two literally hear drama and gossip with each other and if you guys hear the drama together, you two are looking at each other n gawking bc what did I just hear?

- He’s on his phone a lot so when you say something out of pocket he just pauses what he was doing n stares at you for like a few seconds or a minute

- Sometimes he even says out of pocket things to you as well n sometimes you do blush, same with him

- you two literally gossip to each other the most craziest things ever

- if you try to embarrass him n whispering UNHINGED shit in his ear, he’ll do the same to you but worse

- I can confirm you one had a battle about it

- of course he won because the shit he says is way worse then the shit you say

- “Hey babe where did the red dye go?” “Idk check your pad.”

- You were so dumbfounded that you paused n blinked at him

- “shit… he beat me too it”

———————————

- All n all awesome bfs 👍

DONT FORGET THE CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP TO 18+ NO WORRIES 🩷

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

anyway a very enjoyable detail imo is how fords confrontation with stan in tots after he broke fords machine and his confrontation with bill after fiddleford saw bill's true plans are framed the same way, with a few tweaks so that they're not wholly identical

but what matters here is that stan and bill are watching something (innocence gap aside lmao)

ford enters (or has technically entered the room already) with intent of confrontation

ford's dramatic body language through out the scene + the way stan and bill are placed

and theres a bit of irony in the fact that despite being liars and conmen, both stan and bill are both being entirely honest in this part, with fords reaction ending up the same way. stan is explaining that he broke fords machine on accident while bill is outright gloating that he tricked ford into building the portal. they both are angling to get something out of ford here, with stan still bringing up treasure hunting and bill trying to keep ford under his thumb with the deal they made.

at the end of the day though, with ford not believing stan saying it was an accident and thinking stan is lying to him vs him immediately getting confirmation from bill that he was being played the whole time, the end result is the same: ford feels he's been betrayed by someone he deeply cared about.

so thats all pretty basic stuff right? like who hasnt realized that ford has trust issues. and tbh im just pointing out some basic cinema similarities thats a cool detail nonetheless.

but my fave part is how these are the ONLY times times you actually hear both stan and bill call ford sixer in the show itself

stan and bill are both the only characters to call him sixer, but we only see how frequent that is in the comics and tbob. the use of the nickname in ONLY these scenes in the show specifically was very deliberate to envoke how much this sucks for ford that he's been prevented from achieving one dream by one person he loves, only to have that same dream used against him by another.

imagine how wild this must be for ford lol. the time he confronted bill he is instantaneously thrown back in time by bill using the very last time stan calls him a certain nickname the very night he remembers being "betrayed" by stan. betrayal on top of betrayal is connected to that very nickname, so its not JUST a random nickname either of them couldve called ford (or bill couldve also called him poindexter and a whole lot of variations of nerd, but sixer is the only nickname among the two's list is the same. almost like rubbing lemon juice and salt to the wound atp which is really funny of bill.

tots and lmc in general also have some of my fave details on stans influence over ford in general. from ford quoting stan and copying his body language when HE gets abandoned by fiddleford the way stan thinks ford did with him

(and i say copy— this is no coincidental parallel because we know in tbob ford knows what stan looked when he was doing the "high six" part, so he's been paying super close attention to stan's departure the whole time despite closing the window curtains)

and my favorite arguably funniest one, when stan called ford a dangerous know it all in ddamd and ford (who btw was already behind the vending machine and youd think already went down in the basement), is SO peeved by that he was tossing and turning in bed over that in conjuction with all his bill related flashbacks. this is funny because for someone who was literally writing "TRUST NO ONE" in his journal, he's very upset by the fact that either stan doesn't trust him + thinks that way about him, no matter how deserved or that stan is definietly right about him being a dangerous know it all (and i do not see enough people point that out lmao) AKDHAKDGEU