Ao Nykē Perzōñi Iksi Masterlist

I wish someone would make a Harwin Strong x reader story based on that scene where Rhaenyra comes back covered in blood

"Through One Thousand Worlds and Ten Thousand Lifetimes" Fic Masterlist

Summary: Aemond Targaryen promised you that no matter what, he would always find you. Through a thousand worlds and ten thousand lifetimes, he would search until he found you. And you promised to wait in all of them. And yet, every time you're pulled apart by tragedy, resulting in his death.

Will you and Aemond be able to rewrite your destiny as star-crossed lovers? Or was your love doomed from the start?

Fandom(s): House of the Dragon, The Last Kingdom, World on Fire, Trigger Point, High Life

Main Pairing(s): Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Other Pairing(s): Osferth x Reader, Tom Bennett x Reader, Billy Washington x Reader, Ettore x Reader

Chapter One: The Dance of the Dragons

Chapter Two: The Princess and the Monk

Chapter Three: A Soldier's Kiss (Coming July 24th)

Chapter Four: London Calling (Coming July 31st)

Chapter Five: Into The Unknown (Coming August 7th)

Chapter Six: Last Chance (Coming August 14th) - FINAL

girl? I just woke up and I'm already crying my eyes out😭😭😭😭😭

I was all over her.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female! reader

warnings: angst, sad Aemond, minor spoilers from hotd s2 ep 2, 3, and 4, not much smut but MDNI!!

WC: 4517

summary: when the world turned their back on him, she didn’t.

Don't know what I wanted, I have a memory

Throughout Aemond’s life, he remembers how much he wanted to be seen. 

By his father,

by his mother,

by his brother,

by the whole world.

He wasn’t the heir to the throne, he didn’t have a dragon like his brothers or sister. He was weak and nothing. He spend his days being teased and bullied relentlessly by his brother and nephews. They had venomous tongues and big sharp teeth. He hated the way he is.

But when the world turned their back on him, one person remained. 

She was a Tyrell, born not long after his mother gave birth to his youngest brother Daeron. His grandsire and mother are close to her parents since the Tyrells and Hightowers are two houses that are closely related. 

When he first met her back in oldtown, he saw her as a meek and shy young girl. He hated it. Because it reminded him of himself. But his hatred grew when he saw how well she gets along with Aegon, Daeron, even Helaena. Maybe he doesn’t hate her, maybe he just hates how he’s nothing like her. 

Likeable. 

Then it all changed in one summer evening. 

He was reading at the great library of oldtown, away from the world as he read about his great ancestors of old valyria and dragons. Dragons he longed to have. Like Aegon with sunfyre, Helaena with Dreamfyre, even Daeron with Tessarion. Then he heard a thud. 

Looking back from his seat, he saw no one was in the empty library but him. 

When he returned to his book, he heard another thud. 

Shutting the book with frustration, he began to look for the source of the sound that disturbed his peace. Walking deeper between old tall shelves, he took a turn to the left and saw…her.

Younger and smaller than him, but the Tyrell girl grunts as she climbs the bookshelf. Strong but mighty. The way her silly tongue sticks out as she’s so persistent to reach a book at the tallest shelf. He cleared his throat as he looked down, noticing many books had been scattered around the floor for her to climb.

She turned to him with a surprise stare.

“Prince Aemond!” 

As a child, she squeaks like a squirrel

Aemond thought to himself.

“What are you doing up there?” Aemond asks curiously. “I..I’ve been trying to reach that book!” She says as she still tries to reach the book at the highest shelf. 

“You will hurt yourself,” Young Aemond sighs. 

“Can you help me, my prince?” she asks as she jumps down from the shelf. 

“No-“

“Please!”

“Absolutely not-“

“You’re far much taller than me!” She says pointing at his height. 

Even as children, he has always been taller than her. 

Aemond sighs, knowing what he’s about to do. 

And he did it. 

Not for his own pride, but for her.

“Oh thank you!” She thanked him with a smile when he easily reached and took the book she’s looking for. The girl hugged the huge book in her arms. “It wasn’t a big deal, whatever,” Aemond says, acting nonchalant while he dusts off his clothes. “It is though, I wouldn’t have been able to reach that book if you weren’t here!” She says with a bright smile.

Heat rose up to his cheeks. No one ever ‘relied’ on him before. 

“Biarvose,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting her to know. But she heard him and tilted her head with curiosity. “Are you speaking high valyrian? It sounds lovely! Can you teach me?!” She asks cheerfully.

“What, no I’m not-“

“Please! I want to at least learn something new!” The girl says excitedly. Before he could answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to their seats in front of the fireplace. “I’m a fast learner, I promise!” She says as she sits down beside him with a smile.

Can’t believe he’s doing this.

But…it felt nice. The way she wanted him to teach her. She could’ve asked Aegon or Daeron…yet she chose him. 

“It’s…”

He mentioned her name. He liked how her name rolled off his tongue.

“…Tyrell, right?”

She nods. 

And since that day, and for the whole summer he taught her high valyrian in the library. Word by word, he was patient to teach her. He hates to admit it but she actually was a fast learner. 

She was his first true friend.

She was the first person who makes him feel like he has a purpose in life. 

Until they took his eye.

Just a year after he knew her, by the time he turned 10 he had claimed Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in Westeros. But for a price, which was his eye.

He became the same boy who hated the world. 

Never came back to oldtown or any places except the red keep. Afraid what the world might say about him. How ugly he looked with his scar, one of his eye missing, but most of all he was afraid of what SHE might say about him. Afraid of rejection, how she’ll stop spending time with him.

His thoughts were interrupted when his mother came inside his chambers. Bringing in the young Tyrell. 

“Aemond, she’s here to see you,” Alicent says, in a slight pleading tone. For he has shut himself out from the world when the maester stitched him. It hurts and it will hurt even more if he knew that all that people will see in him was a monster. 

“Go away,” he says coldly, his chair facing away from the door.

“Are you feeling any better?” Her sweet gentle voice asks as Alicent has her arm around the little girl.

Sometimes he just wants to run and hug her for comfort. For she was his escape from this cruel world. Her optimism makes him alive. He didn’t want to lose that.

“I said go away,” his hands gripped the arms of the chair.

“I brought you-,”

“I SAID GO AWAY!” He shrieks, stepping down from his chair and throwing his cup at her direction as he turns around, accidentally showing her his scar. His true self.

Alicent quickly tried to shield the young girl as she screamed. Shielding her from him.

From him.

“Aemond!” Alicent scolded her son. 

Yet his mother’s scolding didn’t matter to him. He saw his friend’s…his only friend terrified expression. He scared her. He hurt her. Just like how the world hurt him.

He took a step back. 

“I…I’m sorry,” he says lowly before returning to his chair.

He wanted to cry. But it hurts if he does.

Then he heard slow and tiny footsteps.

And she…she placed a toy dragon at the table. As her hands tremble. 

“I carved Vhagar for you…father taught me how to carve.”

The young girl says bravely. Yet Aemond wasn’t brave enough to meet her eyes. Not after he hurt her. So he says nothing. 

“Get well soon, my prince,” she curtsied and hurriedly returned to the Queen. Leaving him alone in his cold and empty room. Only the sound of crackling fire filled the room. Aemond loved silence but this time…he hated it. 

So he reached out, taking the wooden figure of his dragon into his hands. And by the time Queen Alicent returned to his chambers, she found her son asleep in his chair.

Holding the little dragon in his hands, close to his chest.

-

Back at that party, I was all over her

The death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon was at his fault and he couldn’t deny it any more. 

Kinslayer. Thats what they call him now.

His betrothal to one of Borris Baratheon’s daughter came to an end once Vhagar snapped her sharp teeth onto Vermax’s body. No one wanted to marry a Kinslayer.

A crippled and a kinslayer. 

What a fucking combo. 

But he firmly believed that everything that has happened to him was meant to be. Because if it weren’t for it, he wouldn’t be shaped as he is now. And he has to be better. Every sword training, every lessons, and at every war..he must be the best.

But that little boy inside of him still clings onto him till this very day.

Especially when his mother mentioned her name.

For he shall now marry her to strengthen the allieagance between their house and the Tyrells. They needed this. And he shall do it for them. 

He convinced himself it wasn’t personal and he doesn’t wish to meet her and just arrange the marriage ceremony. Secretly afraid for what she’ll think of him now.

A kinslayer, a cripple…a monster.

For they have not met again since that very night in his chambers. 

And when he saw her gain at the grand sept for their wedding, may the gods help him. 

She has grown into a woman. Not a young child anymore. 

She smiled to her family, giving them a nervous thin smile. 

Does he makes her nervous?

Does he scare her?

The ceremony was done in the sept. Not a grand wedding like any royal ceremony would be for they are at war and it’s ignorant if they host a grand wedding in the midst at war.

He couldn’t help but to stare how different she is now. How reserved and mature her body language is as she gracefully walks around with her long dress dragging through the cold stones of the sept. She was…beautiful.

“My prince,” she says as she curtsied. Even her voice has changed. Now it felt as if honey were dripping down her tongue.

“My Lady,” he greets back stoically. Not wanting her or anyone to read his mind. 

“How are you, my prince?” she whispers as the ceremony begins. Still making small talk as always, yet he yearns for it. He’s deeply grateful that she still wants to talk to him. Yet it has been awhile since he properly talked to her, it made him nervous. “I am well,” he whispers back. His healthy eye looked into hers as they were pronounced husband and wife. He finds nothing but nostalgia in her eyes. She is just how he remembered her.

-

We didn't make out or do anything

I just remember I was lonely

He didn’t like the idea of a bedding ceremony.

Where people would see him…and her.

It’s unnatural…and unfitting. 

So he ordered for the bedding ceremony not to be done. But he promised that he shall take her that night and they can inspect the bedsheets in the morning.

When he stepped into her chambers, he found her anxiously standing beside the bed. A weird tense atmosphere swept the room. 

“I..,” she wants to speak.

“I would like to say thank you for…not letting the bedding ceremony to happen-“

What is this? Does she not want everyone to see us together?

His anxious mind and overthinking took power over him.

“Who said it was done for you?” He snapped at her as he closed the door. 

Shit. He did it again.

And she was quiet once more.

I scared her again.

“But…still…I still want to thank you…my pr-“

“Husband,” he sternly says walking past her.

“Pardon?” 

He took a jug filled with wine and poured it onto his empty cup. He at least needed a cup of wine if he wanted to bed her right.

“I am your husband now, am I not?” He asks, not looking at her. 

“Oh yes…husband,” she says with a nod, fiddling her skirt.

Aemond turned around and took off his attire and was left with his tunic, yet she just stood there beside the bed, not being able to move. 

She was nervous.

He looked at her, unsure what he should do. Should he comfort her? Should he take her quickly so they didn’t have to endure this pain together? No- no no no he didn’t want to hurt her.

Then he saw her slowly opening her nightgown. Her hands trembling like when he hurt her as a child. She slips her nightgown over his chest-.

It’s been awhile since he saw a woman’s body.

The last time was…..was…

“Stop.”

She curiously looked up to him, only halfway through from being naked. “I-is there something wrong?-.”

“No,” he quickly answered, looking down with shame.

Yes. There is something wrong.

When Aegon took him to that brothel…at the age of 13..he…he couldn’t- it scarred him. 

She’s not like them. She’s not like that whore.

It’s only her, it’s just her!

His mind battling inside his head as he stood at the other side of the bed. He blamed Aegon for ruining something that should be meaningful for a man and woman. Ruining something that should’ve been meaningful for him and her. He blamed the brothel, he blamed his brother, and foremost he blamed himself. 

He can’t bed her.

Not like this.

“We must…do our duty,” he says, trying to mask his insecurity and vulnerability in front of her. Trying to mask the same 13 year old boy who was terrified when he stepped into the brothel for the first time. 

He didn’t dare to look up. He didn’t want to see her being disgusted by hi-

“Yet you don’t want to,” her voice was gentle and kind. Not a hint of mockery at sight. 

“I-“

“I don’t want to do this either.”

He looks up, finding her shielding her chest with her nightgown. That sight aroused him terribly. He wanted to touch her, wanted to make her happy and satisfied. He wanted to make her smile. Yet he saw the same little girl that admired him as a child. He didn’t want to fuck her, he wanted to make love with her. 

But he didn’t know how to.

So he just…stood there. The two of them stood there and said nothing. 

Just as he thought all hope was lost, she puts on her nightgown and stepped away from the bed. 

She’s leaving.

She’s disgusted by me.

“What are you-.”

She took a butter knife and roughly slits her palm, letting blood drip to the bed. 

He stared at her.

“There. They’ll think I lost my maidenhead,” she says with a little smile plastered on her face. “No one will know.”

His eye drifts into her still bleeding palm. He groaned walking towards her, ripping a cloth and wrapped her bleeding palm with it. “Mittys,” he muttered under his breath. She chuckles, “You haven’t taught me that word yet.” 

And for the first time in a lifetime, a genuine amused smirk was plastered across his face. “Stay still,” he ordered, tightening the cloth on her palm. 

When he was done, she gazed up at him for a moment. “How long has it been?” She suddenly asked. “I have not been counting,” Aemond replied, still holding her scarred hand. She slowly then pulled him to bed, sitting down. “You must stay for awhile. Or else they’d be suspicious.” 

Gods be good.

She was too kind for him. 

And he joined her, laying on the bed side by side. He wonders if she’s still afraid of him as their hands brushed against each other. He never realized how much he craved for her touch. Wondering what it feels like to be held by her. Would she be gentle? Or would she push him away? 

“Usōven,” he muttered, looking at her. Apologizing for that night.

She turned her head to look at him. And smiled.

“I forgive you.”

-

I guess I am always, it's not a problem

It's just something, I got used to it

It got worse.

His yearning for her.

He was afraid to touch her, for he did not want to touch her like a whore. She was his equal. He didn’t want to hurt her.

So he lets all of his frustration to Madame Sylvie. He was attached to her even before his wife returned to his life, yet her presence made him worse. With the war…and his guilt for the death of Lucerys…and now the presence of her…it frustrates him. Every single time he fucks that whore, he thinks of her. He imagined that it was her in bed.

Imagined that it was her holding him.

At Least he could keep her safe from him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He never meant for it to happen in the first place.

But when he returned from his sins back to his sacred sanctuary, he finds nothing but horror in the keep.

They murdered his nephew. 

Prince Jaehaerys. 

A son for a son.

It was his fault his nephews were dead. 

It was supposed to be him who’s dead. Whose head should be beheaded. Not his nephew. Not anyone. 

After inspecting his chambers, he rushed to his wife’s room. Finding her in bed, holding Helaena and Jaehaera as the three girls cried. He saw how terrified the three of them were, but he noticed how she cradled his sister and his niece. Whispering nothing but reassurance to them. “It’s okay, they’re gone now…you’re both safe,” he heard her. She has always taken care of Helaena and the kids well. 

Noticing his presence, his wife looked up, finding him unable to move from the doorway. She lets go of her grieving sister in law and niece as she walks to him. Her eyes were teary and red. 

Oh how he hates to see her cry.

He looks down at her, cupping her cheek with one hand.

“Where were you?” Her question rang through his ear as her voice cracked on the last word she spoke. Guilt consumed him- no. Guilt starts to eat him slowly but surely. Eating him alive as her wife, her sister, his niece, and his brother grieve for the death of the young innocent prince. He couldn’t say a word, instead hugging his wife tight as she cried into his chest. Sobbing loudly as the castle was filled with darkness. Not a light of hope in sight.

“No one will hurt you. I swear it to you. I’m here..i’m here,” he whispers to his wife as she cried.

He might’ve gotten used to the pain people put on him, but he realized that he would never ever get used to seeing her cry. 

He would never let anyone hurt her.

He would protect her from the cruel world.

Even from himself.

-

Every stranger makes me feel safer

And every person seems more beautiful

“I do regret that business with Luke, I lost my temper that day. I am sorry for it.”

“They used to tease me, y’know? Because I was different.”

He knew he should be seeking comfort from his wife, but he couldn’t. As much as she makes him feel like him…he was still afraid his wife would see right through him. To judge him. So he couldn’t. Not to her. 

He feels safer in the arms of a whore, who has no power over him. While his wife, she had all the power to control him if she could. 

Nights went on and he sneaked out secretly. And no one knew. He was safe. His secret was safe.

Until Aegon…had to ruin everything like he always did.

Humiliating him was always his brother’s hobby.

Blinded with anger, he stomps and storms back to the keep. Wanting his brother and the world to disappear. He wanted to be alone. He hated everything. Yet he didn’t realize that a certain someone was still awake.

Closing Helaena’s bedroom door, lady Tyrell exits the queen’s bedroom for Helaena finds comfort from her sister in law. Just as she wanted to call it a night, she’s standing face to face with no other than her husband.

“Aemond,” she says in surprise.

He froze. He didn’t know what to say. All the rage and humiliation were gone in an instant. His face was covered with guilt and fear. “Wife,” he answered with a hint of anxiety dripping down his tongue.

“Where have you been?” She chuckled, thinking that he was just out for a walk or something. In her mind, she would never ever even think that Aemond would be doing things like that behind her back. 

Aemond stiffened, unable to answer. Before his brother always had to ruin the show.

“Look who it is!” Aegon says as his kingsguard follows behind him. “Your husband here…well, how do I say it..ah yes, was in the whore house, dear sister,” Aegon cackles, nudging Aemond’s arm before earning a hard punch from Aemond. 

He saw red. He saw red in his eyes. He hated his brother. He hates him. He should’ve shut up. He never should’ve brought him to that place in the first place, he should’ve never returned to that place!-

“What..?” His wife’s voice slightly trembled.

Even when Aegon was in pain on the ground, he cackled. Obviously still drunk. “You heard me! He was fucking that whore like a hound!” Aegon continues to say and starts to make howling sounds. 

Aemond saw how she started to grip her nightgown, her hands trembling. Her eyes were teary, not wanting to cry.

He disappointed her.

Disappointing the only person who has faith in him.

“I…I must go…sleep well your grace and….husband,” she says nervously as she curtsied at the two brothers before walking away. 

He watched her walk away. Not daring to chase after her or call out her name. He wouldn’t dare, for he knew he disappointed her deeply. He hurt her again. Like how he did as a child. And now he’s sure she won't come back to him. This was the start of him losing her.

-

She hasn't talked to him since then. What used to be civil and peaceful. Her small talks and smiles weren’t present at his presence. She avoided him at all times. To the point where enough was enough. He couldn’t live like this. He needed her to talk to him. He doesn’t want his marriage to end like his father and his mother. He cares for her…he…he…he loves her.

And when he blinks, he finds himself standing in front of her chamber doors one morning. 

He knocked gently.

“Come in,” he heard her sweet voice that he missed from her room. 

When he enters, he received her sad and surprised expression.

“Husband,” she greeted stoically, looking away.

He then realized how her closet was wide open and empty. Her clothes scattered on the bed as he saw her stuffing her dresses onto her..

“What’s this?!” He protested.

“Mother said it’s not safe for me to be in kings landing. War is coming and…I must go home,” she says in a sad tone.

His heart sank deep hearing her words.

She’s leaving.

She’s leaving him.

“You are not going anywhere,” he insisted, roughly taking dresses out of her hands. 

“Aemond-“

“Not on my sight!-“

“But Aemond-!”

“You are safe here! With me! With Vhagar!” He exclaims roughly, taking out of her dresses from her trunk. 

“Aemond, stop it!”

Yet Aemond does not answer. 

“I will keep you safe. Vhagar will keep you safe, no one will never hurt you-“

“But you did!”

Silence.

Gods, he hated the silence between them.

“You don’t understand,” he grunts as he grips the bedsheets. “How can I understand if you never let me in?!” She protested, tears streaming down from her eyes. He doesn’t even want to look at her. He didn’t want to see her cry.

“See? You wouldn’t even look at me! You wouldn’t touch me, you wouldn’t kiss me, you…,” she points out. 

Aemond sighs in defeat. 

It was all his fault.

But then he roughly took off his eyepatch, towering over her, gripping her wrist as he showed his sapphire eye to her. “And would you? Would you touch this monster, hm? Kiss this husband of yours who’s the reason why two innocent boys are killed? The reason why this war STARTED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!” 

She flinched.

She closed her eyes, scared…waiting for him to do something to her.

It broke him. 

“I…I..forgive me, I..,” Aemond lowers down his voice and hand, releasing her. Now guilt and shame has finally eaten him whole. He hurt her. Again and again. She deserved better. 

Then came a knock on the door.

“Sorry for interrupting, my prince but..the council awaits your presence,” A guard said to him.

“I’ll be there.”

-

Aemond took his time and walked out of her chambers with her as her trunks were carried out from her room. It was present how there’s a gap between them. He wanted to hold her hand terribly, but he couldn’t. Not after what he did to her.

He felt how people were looking. Eyes on them as they walked through the halls of the red keep. He tried one more time to reach his pinky finger to hers but when they touched, she pulled her hand away to rub her other arm. 

He lost her.

He probably never had her in the first place.

When they reached her carriage, he didn’t want to tear his eyes from her. 

“I would, y’know?” She suddenly says with her gentle voice.

“Pardon?”

“I would…kiss and touch you,” she repeats. “The monster you said of…is still my husband. You’re still my husband,” she emphasizes.

Her words touched him somewhere in the deepest parts of his heart that no one has touched before. It made him frozen and unable to move a single muscle or bone in his body.

“I know that I am not what you needed, and I know that I’m nothing to you-.”

She was terribly wrong. How wrong she was. She meant the world to him.

She was…everything to him.

“I hope you will find what you’re looking for in the future.”

He didn’t want anyone but her.

They looked back and saw people watching.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

She has always been far much braver than him. So she walked back to him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, just beneath his eye patch. Beneath his scar. 

“Geros ilas, my love…avy jorrāelan,” she whispered to him before pulling away and stepping into her carriage without looking back.

And little did Aemond know, that will be the last time he would ever get to see her. 

In his heart, he blamed the world again. 

He blamed his brother.

He blamed everyone and everything that took her away from him.

Maybe in another life, the war wouldn’t have happened, Aegon wouldn’t have took him to the brothel, Lucerys didn’t take his eye, and maybe.. he could hold her like a normal person would. Maybe they’d have children…and maybe…maybe she’d stay. 

But right now, he walks back to the keep to assemble their army. To rook’s rest. To prove his brother and the whole world. To win this war.

For her. 

a/n: Hello everyone! I’m Alice and thank you so much for reading! Fyi I used to write on tumblr but my old account was like semi suspended? Idk I couldn’t interact with people, I couldn’t comment on people’s post so now I’m here and uhh hi🥹I hope you enjoy this one shot and I’m only gonna write fics mainly about the Ewanverse so you’re in for a ride🫶🏻🤗 I’m gonna write more in the future and thank you for sticking around until the end of this fic! Thank you once againnn💞💞

SOUR | JJK

PAIRING: Boxer Jungkook x Ballerina Reader

GENRE: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, BOXER AU, DANCE, AU SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST

Words: 10k🥸

WARNINGS: abusive parents, drugs, making out, Jungkook breaking in again, cursing, they're complete opposites, cringe nicknames, ANNOYING fangirls, reader is insecure, polar opposites dynamics, emo boy Jk, inexperienced reader, bullying

SYNOPSIS:

In the world of boxing, Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of an ace with his tattoos and rippling muscles. You, however, are his opposite—a delicate presence. When told you're not his usual type, doubts arise. Are you truly meant for each other?

A/n: Hiiiiiii it's that time again! Hope you enjoy reading this update and please let me know what you think or if you have any ideas I could add in the future also just wanted to take a moment to say ty to each and every one of you who keeps coming back to read my lil stories or just discovering them for the first time whether you've been here for a while or are brand new on this blog! You're all welcome (as long as you're over 18 eep-) 🤍. Let's go feral over this Jungkook together in the asks <3.

Dressed in a black shirt and a pair of loose training shorts, Jungkook's muscles were prominent beneath the fabric as he made his way to the boxing area.

Theres sounds of gloves meeting punching bags through the place and loud music blasting over the speaker as the scent of sweat hang strongly in the air.

Frustration welled up within Jungkook as he caught a glimpse of his self-proclaimed fan club, who seemed to have found their way near the ring. He rolls his eyes.

A surge of annoyance coursed through his veins, and a quiet "fuck" slipped past his lips but is gaze quickly fixed on the boxing ring that stood at the center of the room like a trophy.

Jungkook was pumped to kick some serious ass today, eager to release all the emotions that had been swirling around in his head for the past few days. He was now dating you—the fucking girl of his dreams–what better way to celebrate, than by going all out and fucking up his opponents?

Jungkook had always been passionate about working out, pushing his body to its limits with hardcore training.

But there was something about boxing that ignited... excitement in him—a primal energy that had caught his complete attention.

It was more than just a way to get stronger for him– it was an opportunity to prove his strength, both physical and mentally testing his limits.

The sound of leather gloves connecting with the punching bags, the shouts of trainer Chan motivating his friends who came earlier than him today, all filled him with happiness, only thing that could make today better was you.

But there was no way he'd let you set foot in this place, not with all these sweaty men, weirdos, and the damn crazy fangirls swarming around

Taking a deep breath, Jungkook stepped onto the padded floor, the ring was his sanctuary, a space where he could let his true self shine.

He easily put on a pair of boxing gloves, tightening the straps around his wrists with practiced movements. The weight of the gloves was familiar, a reminder of the victories he had earned over the past years–Jungkook was this gyms–no–this cities pride whenit came to boxing.

Flexing his knuckles inside the gloves, he cracks his neck and looks at Namjoon, his friend and todays opponent.

"Good luck fucker" Jungkook joked earning a laugh from the small crowd that had formed around the ring–and this was just practise, when it came to an actual fight, people would pay thousands to see him go all in.

"You too kid"

With that, the bell rang, and the sounds of punches and grunts began.

-

"Three, two, one... Three, two, one..." Mrs. Chuu acknowledges you with a nod as you flawlessly execute your choreography, just as you had rehearsed these past few weeks.

"And two, and three, and..." Mrs. Chuu furrows her brows, shaking her head. "You're going the wrong way, Y/n," she speaks firmly. "I can't understand why you consistently turn left instead of right." She shakes her head "Again."

You nod, regaining your composure, readjusting your skirt and foot placement, and gripping the ballet bar once more, your body was tense, but from the outside you looked as effortless and soft as possible.

After dedicating a solid seven hours to dancing today–with well-deserved breaks sprinkled in–it was no surprise that exhaustion was settling in.

You were used to this kind of exhaustion. It was like a routine for you, dancing for seven days a week. The only silver lining was that on Fridays, you got a sweet long break only having to be at the studio for 1 hour of stretching—a well-deserved rest day.

"Hey, focus, y/n!" Mrs. Chuus voice snaps you back to reality, making you bitebyour lip for getting caught daydreaming

Your mom was about to arrive any minute now, eager to see your progress. And to be honest, both you and Mrs. Chuu dreaded her arrival. She had this annoying trade to nitpick and find flaws in everything.

"She's gonna be all over you, judging your every move," she sighs, fully aware of what was about to go down.

Your mom's a known perfectionist and a pain in the ass, no doubt about it. "you have to nail this. There's no room for errors L/n" she scolds.

You give a nod, glancing at yourself in the mirror.

You adjust your pose, making sure everything is on point.

As the musiv starts, you immerse yourself in the flow of it, letting it guide your movements. The music fills the room, your body signaling you exactly what to do. You're in your zone now, giving it your best. It's like you and ballet are in perfect sync–one.

You steal a quick glance at Mrs. Chuu, who's watching you intently. She's got that poker face on, not giving anything away. But deep down, you know she's analyzing every step, every turn, every facial expression–maybe even if a strand of hair lays weird.

From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of your mom walking into the studio. She exchanges pleasantries with Mrs. Chuu before her gaze sets on you. Instantly, nerves kick in.

What if you stumble? What if you miss a step? Your mind starts wandering threatening to throw you off balance.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there's a loud crash that sounds through the studio. You feel yourself losing balance, and before you know it, you're down on your knees, completely crashed on the floor.

The room falls silent, and you can practically feel the weight of your mom's disapproving gaze tearing you apart.

This is it. You're done for.

You brace yourself for the criticism that's about to rain down on you. She's never going to let you hear the end of it. Shit

Her voice breaks the silence. "Y/n L/n." You don't dare look up, too scared to meet her eyes.

"Not one thing can you do right."

You freeze, not surprised by her harsh comment. It feels like a punch to the gut, though, and your breath hitches. You've been working so hard, giving it your all, and now it feels like it's not enough.

You gather your strength, slowly lift your head, and meet her gaze head-on nodding and standing up again, fixing your outfit. "I'm sorry mom" you whisper close to tears, not of sadness, but of stress.

"I'm leaving. You're such an embarrassment," your mom's cutting words hang in the air as she actually walks out, not even bothering to apologize or offer any reassurance.

The embarrassment settles in, and you feel a wave of humiliation wash over you. Getting yelled at in front of Mrs. Chuu was beyond...uncomfortable

But before you have a chance to dwell on the situation, you feel a comforting hand on your shoulder. It's Mrs. Chuu, her presence bringing a sense of solace. She gives you a small smile.

"Everyone makes mistakes, y/n," she says gently, her voice reassuring. She walks over to your bag and gets your water, handing it to you. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You know how your mom can get. You don't have worry about what just happened."

You nod, grateful for her words of encouragement. Mrs. Chuu has always been there for you, not only as a dance instructor but also as someone who understands the relationship between you and your family and the pressures that come with it.

"Thanks, Mrs. Chuu," you say giving her a sad smile.

-

Kook🩷: how's my girls day going?

Today 5pm

A soft smile forms across your face as you read the text message on your phone, causing a faint blush to colour your cheeks. Sitting on the studio floor, with Mrs. Chuu is already gone. You find yourself lost in the moment, thinking of when you would see Jungkook, your boyfriend, again.

"If you only knew, Kookie..." you whisper to yourself, a sad shine in your eyes, and with a quick press of your fingers on the screen, you type out a response tilting your head.

With newfound energy, you gather your belongings and make your way out the studio.

You: good, Im heading home right now. How was yours?

Today 5:07 pm

Jungkook's brows furrow as he looks down at his phone, his expression shifting into a frown. "Good? Just good?" he mutters under his breath, a sense of confusion creeping in. It didn't add up. He was used to receiving a "very good!" or "amazing."

The simplicity of "good" left him feeling unsettled. Something must be off with yoy. Maybe you were just tired, he tried to convince himself, shaking away the negative thoughts.

Just as he's about to lock his phone, determined to put it out of his mind, a girl, Wendy, interrupts his train of thought with a god awful smile. "Jungkookie, we're all going out for drinks. Will you join us?" she asks, her voice carrying a hint of eagerness.

"No," Jungkook responds abruptly, dismissing her invitation. He swiftly grabs his bag, ready to make his exit. However, Wendy insists, stopping him. Annoyed, he glances back at her, his eyes basically telling her to fuck off already.

"But why not? You did such a great job today," Wendy chirps, her voice slowly getting on his nerves "it's on me!"

There's something about her overly cheery demeanour that rubs him the wrong way. Her piercings and tattoos may give off a rebellious vibe, but Jungkook can see through the facade. She's one of those manipulative bullies who always gets what she wants. He knows she's after him, and he hates the thought of him being with someone other than you.

"I'm going home," Jungkook states firmly, repeating his decision, tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"Who's got you by the balls, huh?" Wendy's real demeanor shines through, but Jungkook isn't fazed. He's seen this side of her before.

She had pushed her limits in the past, causing trouble that led to her being kicked out. This gym is not her personal Tinder playground, where she can just stroll in and pick whoever catches her fancy in the moment.

He meets her gaze with a firm expression, his voice laced with anger. "You wanna get kicked out of here again?" he questions, his tone carrying a warning. He knows exactly what she wants from him.

Wendy smirks, her lips forming an enticing pout. "So you know what I want," she sing-songs taking a step closer to him. "Then why don't you give it to me?" Her voice drips with suggestion, her fingers lightly grazing his chest. It's a calculated move and he knows.

Jungkook's expression hardens as he pushes her away, "Back the fuck off, Wendy. Find someone else to fulfill your needy desires. I'm not down," he growls scanning her from head to toe, already reaching for a cigarette to light up once he's outside the building.

What a fucking day

"Get the fuck off my back," he rolls his eyes, dismissing her presence as he confidently walks away.

"Aish" Wendy is left huffing and stomping her feet in frustration, making her way back to her clique.

-

"...I'm feeling lonely..." you sing, playfully belting out the lyrics to a catchy new song while rummaging through your wardrobe.

It was that time of year again—time to declutter and donate some of your clothes. You realize you've accumulated way too many pieces, and it's always a good feeling to give to those who needed it more. This has become a bit of a tradition for you.

As you're completely engrossed in what you're doing, dancing to the beat of your favourite music–knock

Out of nowhere, there's an unexpected knock on your window that jolts you right out of your daydreamjng. You quickly hit pause on your playlist, and with a hint of curiosity, you cautiously look around "what on earth...?" Walking back into your room making eye contact with none other than the one and only Jeon Jungkook, standing on your balcony once again like he owns the place.

You can't help but feel a mix of excitement and panic. Like, damn, how does this guy manage to pop up at the most unexpected moments? He's like a master of surprises. Your master of surprises.

As you lock eyes with Jungkook, a grin stretches across his face, and you can practically see the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Is this going to be a regular thing now?" you teasingly ask, opening the window and letting him in, Jungkook adjusts his shirt, his expression back to a smile. Hed once again climbed the tree in front of your window just to see you.

"It's the only way I get to see you. Should I start knocking on your door instead?" he playfully retorts, leaning in for a quick "hello" kiss and the surprise of his spontaneous affection leaves you momentarily stunned, your breath hitching at his unexpected gesture.

"I-I was just cleaning out my closet, though... I don't know if that's so interesting for you," you say, walking back to your walk-in closet and settling back down on the floor amidst the pile of clothes.

"I'll help you," Jungkook smirks, joining you and holding up a cute pink top that you hadn't worn in months. He gazes at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Try this on for me," he suggests, passing you the shirt.

It was a cute shirt, you remember wearing it for practise once or twice.

"You want me to try this on?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook as he holds up the cute pink top. A mischievous glint dances in his eyes, and you can tell he's up to something.

Jungkook smirks, his teasing nature in full bloom tonight. "I just want to see how it looks on you," he replies, shrugging. But Jungkook knew what he was doing.

"Well, if you're that eager to see me in this shirt, who am I to deny you the pleasure?" you tease, talking like one of those girls you went to rpivate school with.

Taking the top from him you head to the bathroom to change making Jungkook poke the inside of his cheek.

As you slip into the pink top, you notice that it fits in all the right places. It looks perfectly fjne, accentuating your figure, and you can't deny that it looks great on you. A smile spreads across your face.

Walking back to where Jungkook is waiting, you strike a playful stupid pose, "So, what do you think sir? Does it pass the test?" you ask, twirling slightly to show off the shirt.

Jungkook's eyes widen as he takes in your appearance, clearly impressed by how the shirt enhances your...boo-chest. He smirks, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he responds. "You look cute," he admits, his voice filled with genuine adoration.

You feel a warm blush creeping up your cheeks, flattered by his compliment. "Well, I guess this shirt is a keeper then," you say, getting shy again.

"It's not just the shirt, sugar. It's you. You make everything look incredible," he says, his voice laced with affection.

A smile tugs at your lips, and you reach out to gently brush your fingers against his cheek. "You always know how to make me feel special," you whisper, staring into his dark eyes "I really like you Jungkook" you confess, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind his ear.

"I like you even more," he smirks, playfully pulling you onto his lap "A lot more," he teases, causing you to lightly hit his chest and pout in response.

"So, what exactly are you doing here? You know it's risky, Jungkook... my parents..." you say, biting your lip and sitting up straighter, suddenly realizing the seriousness of the situation.

"Well, we'll be fine, sugar. Just be quiet," he reassures you with a smile.

Your eyes widen in disbelief. "Me? Quiet? It's my room!" you complain, shaking your head. "I don't care if they hear me, but seriously, my mom heard you last time. I still can't believe I managed to convince her that there was no one here."

"Because you're my smart girl," he says, raising his eyebrows and playfully pinching your arms. "You're tougher than you look."

You let out a silent sigh, trying to make him understand the seriousnes of the situation.

Taking another piece of clothing from the pile and analyzing it, Jungkook shrugs, saying, "I'm just here because I was bored at home. Can't a boyfriend visit his girlfriend in peace?"

With another playful tap on his chest, you exclaim, "It would be so freaking adorable if my parents wouldn't go all crazy and ruin my life if they found out about us." Frustration lingers in the air as you mindlessly toss the skirt into your "give away" bag, silently hoping to finish decluttering by tonight.

"Seriously, Kookie," you hiff, biting your lip in concern. "Can't you give me a heads-up when you're planning to swing by? It's not always just me in my room, you know." You look at him, your eyes worried.

Jungkook can't help but let out a hearty laugh at your plea, pinching your cheek affectionately. "Kookie, huh? I kinda like that nickname," he admits, before clearing his throat "only from you thoigh, of course"

"Kook..."

Leaning in closer, he whispers, "Alright, alright, I promise I'll try to give you a heads-up next time, sugar," he starts "but you gotta admit, the surprise makes it more thrilling." He smirks, fully aware of the effect he has on you.

You roll your eyes, hitting his arm. "Thrilling, huh? Well, it's not so thrilling when I'm on the verge of a panic attack every time you appear out of thin air." You try to sound annoyed, but a smile tugs at the corners of your lips when you look at him. "Poof" you imitate with your hands "like that"

"I'm sorry, sugar. I didn't mean to scare you. I just can't stop thinking about you, i have to see you, even if it means risking your parents' wrath." He plants a soft kiss on your forehead, his tone still teasing

You melt into his embrace, "I know, Kookie. I can't stop thinking aboutyou either...," you admit, burying your face in his hard chest. "Just... let's try to be a bit more cautious, okay?."

He holds you tighter, "Absolutely, if that's what my pretty girl wants."

In that moment, as you nestle in his arms, you sigh "this is nice, I never got why people hugged so much until now" you smile kissing his nose. "Let's get this done yeah?" You say pointing to the pile of clothes, Jungkook sighing dramatically. "It's so much..."

-

The walk-in closet is an absolute mess it's bursting at the seams with pants, skirts, and shoes. It's like a fashion explosion in here if you were honest.

And right in the middle of all that fashion shit, you find yourself tangled up with Jungkook, his lips eagerly meeting yours and creating audible smacking noises.

What started as a simple decluttering mission has quickly escalated into a full-blown make-out session.

"Wait," you manage to breathe out, lightly tapping his shoulder. "How do people make out for hours on end?" You take a moment to catch your breath, wiping off some of your lipgloss from Jungkook's smirking lips.

"I don't know, never really cared," he nonchalantly shrugs, gripping your waist as you sit on his lap, ready for another round of kissing. But you put a stop to it.

"No, seriously," you insist, "Have you seen those movies? It's insane how they can keep it up for so long!" You start to rant, but Jungkook interrupts you once again.

"Sugar, you're my girlfriend, but respectfully, shut up and kiss me," he playfully bumps his nose against yours. "You're such an interesting girl, you know that?"

"Wow, I'll just take that as a compliment," you say, raising an eyebrow and pursing your lips playfully. Glancing at the clock, which annoyingly showed 11pm, you let out a sigh of frustration. Time was slipping away, and there was still so much left to do.

As you pondered, Jungkook leaned in, his big hand gently squeezing your hip and pulling you closer "Kiss me again." A mischievous smirk played on his lips as he licked them suggestively.

Caught off guard, you bite your lip, glancing around the room. There was still a lot to be done–it far from complete. But, after a moment of consideration, you give in to the temptation.

Okay, fine. Just a bit more You think to yourself.

With a hushed whisper, you let your agreement slip, your voice shy.

Despite the nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you of the unfinished decluttering, you cave, after all, a little more fun couldn't hurt, right?

Jungkook's lips connected back to yours, and you could feel the intensity of his kiss as his skilled tongue left you breathless. His hands roamed around your body, but always with a respectful touch, only grazing your waist or arm.

With gentle pecks, he playfully nudged his nose against yours, provoking a shy giggle. It felt surreal, as if he couldn't possibly be real.

After a moment, he broke the intimate silence, his voice slightly husky as he asked you, "Hey sugar."

You responded by leaning your head against his hard chest, finding comfort in his embrace.

As you relaxed in his arms, he asked, "Did anything... happen today?" His tone grew more serious, and he cleared his throat, sitting up straighter.

"What? Why do you ask?" confusion formed across your forehead as you furrowed your brows, wondering why he was bringing this up.

He sighed softly, his fingers playing with a stray strand of your hair. "Just because your text seemed a bit off when I asked you about your day earlier" he explained, his eyes searching yours.

Your lips instinctively pressed together as you bit down on them, deep in thought, reflecting on the events of thsi afternoon.

"Everything was fine." you glance at Jungkook, offering a shrug, it was a lie, but you didn't want to burden him with the truthful details of your mom completely losing it.

Jungkook wasn't stupid, and he could tell when you were lying. "Aish" He let out a soft sigh, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. "Why don't you want to tell me?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

The soft touch and the way he looked at you made you squirm uncomfortably. You were so used to people not caring about your problems that it felt strange for Jungkook to actually be interested. Did he truly care, or was he just asking out of obligation as your boyfriend? The doubt crept into your mind, leaving you questioning his intentions.

"It's not a big deal," you shrugged, trying to downplay the situation. But, deep down, you knew it bothered you.

Unconsciously, you pulled away slightly, creating a small distance between the two of you.

Jungkook noticed your this and sighed, using his strong arms and pulling you back in.

He leaned in, his lips gently brushing against the side of yours in a tender, affectionate kiss. "It's a big deal if it makes you sad, sugar," he admitted.

Still hesitant, you shrugged again, as if trying to convince both him and yourself. "I messed up at practice today," you finally admitted, your voice frustrated.

"But see, it's not a big deal. It just annoys me," you added, your agitation becoming apparent. You were trying to maintain your independence and not burden him with your struggles, but deep down, you longed for his understanding and support. For comfort.

"Yeah, I get that," Jungkook sighed, leaning his head back against the couch behind him. His eyes scanned your figure, taking in your body language. "I feel the same way sometimes when I lose fights or make mistakes. It's frustrating, but I guess there's nothing we can do about it, huh?" He chuckled lightly, playfully poking your cheek.

"You're incredibly talented, sugar," he stated, his voice sincere and encouraging. "Don't let one slip-up fuck up your mood. Everyone has their off days. It doesn't define you."

He shifted his attention to the chaotic scene of the closet, where piles of clothes were still scattered on the floor. A mischievous grin appeared on his face as he surveyed the mess. "Let's finish this, huh?"

-

"You're in a good mood, Jeon," Chan his trainer, noticed, playfully hitting his side with the boxing glove on his hand. "Finally got laid?" he joked, trying to provoke a reaction, which earned him an even harder hit from Jungkook.

"Fuck off, man. Not everything always has to be about sex," Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Wow, Jeon Jungkook not thinking about sex? What happened to you, man?" Chan couldn't help but laugh at Jungkook's response.

However, he quickly let it go, glancing down at his watch. "It's 5pm already. Do you want to do one more match, or should we call it a day?" he asked, giving Jungkook the option to decide.

A mischievous smirk spread across Jungkook's face as he pondered the question. "Let me beat you up one more time," he replied with a harsh glint in his eyes. He was eager for another round, ready to release his pent-up energy in the ring.

"Damn, just look at him" Wendy lets out a sigh, absentmindedly toying with her lipring as she fixates her gaze on Jungkook's intense fight in the ring. The way his muscles ripple beneath that shirt of his with each punch he delivers is straight-up sexy.

"I mean, seriously, he's smoking hot," another girl chimes in, unable to resist biting her lip and shooting heart-eyed glances in his direction.

Lisa, shakes her head disapprovingly and takes a sip of her soda, "Come on, guys, get real." She rolls her eyes at the infatuated girls, knowing all too well that they're letting their imaginations run wild.

"You're all living in a fantasy world," she scoffs. "Let's be honest here, he's way out of your leagues. That guy probably has biker girls lining up for him, not just groupies like you." She laughs

The girls stand stunned into silence, their jaws practically hitting the floor exchanging bewildered glances "she's such a bitch," the girls mumble in unison as they turn on their heels and walk away, clearly annoyed by Lisa's remarks.

Meanwhile, Lisa can't help but chuckle mischievously, thoroughly enjoying the reaction playfully bumping fists with her girlfriend Jihyo.

"You know, babe, I love it when you drop those truth bombs," Jihyo laughs, planting a tender kiss on lisas cheek.

As their attention returns to the scene unfolding in the ring, Lisa's curiosity gets the best of her "Hey, do you think our dear Kook has a girl hiding that he's not telling us about?"

Jihyo ponders the question, her eyes fixed on Jungkook as he throws punches. "It's definitely a possibility," she responds, shrugging nonchalantly. "I mean, he's been leaving practice early lately, and he even canceled plans with us a few times. Something's up."

Lisa nods, her intrigue growing. "Hmm, interesting. Can't blame him though. If he's that committed to her, she must be someone special—definetly a keeper."

"Alright, alright, you win," Chan spits out, visibly frustrated, as he yanks off his gloves and tosses them aside.

"Didn't you tell me not to overreact when I lose? Yet here you are, Mr. Condescending," Jungkook laughs sarcastically.

He takes a swig of water, relishing in the victory. Disregarding the empty bottle, he casually tosses it into the nearby trash can.

"Fuck ofd" chan rolls his eyes

"Hey, I'm just keeping you on your toes," Jungkook retorts playfully

Chan stares at him, growling something as he walks towards the changing rooms, slamming the door leaving Jungkook behind, a smirk playing on his lips.

Spotting his friend Namjoon nearby, he can't resist extending a victorious fistbump. "Man, winning against our coach? Good job, man!" Namjoon chuckles, the amusement between them evident.

"Fuck yeah, m really showed him who's boss," Jungkook replies, giving Joon a nudge

Casually reaching into his pocket, Jungkook pulls out a cigarette and lights it up with a flick of his lighter. He takes a drag, exhaling a plume of smoke, and then looks at Joon with a raised eyebrow. "You smoking?" he asks, nodding towards the exit inviting him for a quick smoke break.

Joon shakes his head, a hint of resignation in his expression. "Nah, man. I quit. You know how Jinny always bugs me about it," he replies, shrugging his shoulders. He glances at the cigarette dangling between Jungkook's fingers.

"Fair enough," Jungkook responds, taking another drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash away.

As Joon starts to walk away, he rememberes something, prompting him to halt in his tracks "Hey, by the way," he interjects, his voice calm. "When were you planning to let me in on the secret that you've got a girl at home?"

Jungkook's eyes widen, caught off guard by Joon's question. "How'd you dind out?" he asks, his tone filled with curiosity.

Joon smirks, raising an eyebrow "Saw a text message from 'sugar' on your phone earlier," he says.

Jungkook's surprise transforms into a faint smile, a hint of a smile breaking through his tough exterior. "Well, you caught me," he admits.

"As long as you're happy, man," Joon adds, his tone softening. "You seem calmer lately. Must be good for you."

"Mh" Jungkook hums taking another drag

"Gotta go now, see you tomorrow," Jungkook says casually, walking over to his bike and putting on his helmet.

Unbeknownst to him, Wendy and Irene, overhear his words and exchange mischievous glances.

"Did you hear that?" Wendy gasps, her eyes widening with excitement. "A girl? Jeon Jungkook's got a girlfriend!" Her voice is filled with surprise and a hint of jealousy.

"No way," Irene scoffs, crossing her arms and smirking. "Must be some girl for Jungkook to actually commit." She takes a final puff of her cigarette, casually blowing the smoke into the air.

"Right? Seriously, though, which girl hasn't he fucked?" Wendy scoffs, dramatically rolling her eyes. Irene, unfazed, simply shrugs saying "you" earning herself a playful punch in the ribs from Wendy.

"Not yet," Wendy grins mischievously. "Trust me, he'll give in eventually. Girlfriend or not, mark my words." She smirks confidently, swiping her friend's cigarette and taking a drag for herself.

"Okay, whatever," Irene sighs, her eyes rolling in annoyance. "I've got to go pick up my little sis from ballet class now. Catch you later, loser."

-

"One, two, three One, two, three" Mrs. Chuu's voice fills the dance studio, her words sounding over the music. She stands at the front, conducting the ballet class with a keen eye. "Amazing, girls, Keep it up!" she encourages.

Moving carefully, she begins to make her way around the room, inspecting each girl's posture and offering corrections.

"Joy, straighten up, my dear," Mrs. Chuu advises gently, her voice carrying a tone of guidance.

Turning her attention to Mina, Mrs. Chuu raises her voice slightly to be heard over the music. "Not too fast, Mina," she advises.

As Mrs. Chuu walks by Sana, she notices a slight tension in the girl's expression. "Watch your facial expression, Sana," she reminds her.

Then, Mrs. Chuu's gaze falls upon you, "Y/n." Her experienced eyes scan your form from head to toe, evaluating your progress. "You're doing good," she remarks, her words accompanied by a warm smile.

-

Slipping off your worn-out ballet shoes, you let out a heavy sigh, relieved that today's ballet practice was a group session rather than an intense solo session with Mrs. Chuu. Although the pressure seemed somewhat alleviated during group rehearsals, you couldn't deny the exhaustion that rushes through your body.

As you gather your breath, a friendly voice interrupts your thoughts. "Hey, Y/n, can I borrow a pen?" It's Joy, a girl from your class who was around the same age as you.

You respond with a nod, returning her smile. "Sure, Here you go," you say, retrieving a pen from your bag and handing it over.

Taking a moment to catch your breath and stretch your tired muscles, you look at yourself in the mirror, checking your hair and makeup, you were seeing Jungkook after this after all.

A few more moments pass and there's only you and Joy left in the studio, you give her a small smile and type on your phone while she does the same

You: I'm done with practise now, beach later?☺️

Today 6pm

Kookie🩷: can't, im a bit far

Today 6pm

You frown "oh" pouting you type an okay, turning off your phone and gathering your things to head home.

As you lift your gaze, ready to head out, you nearly let out a surprised scream when you spot Jungkook casually leaning against the door of the studio, as if he owns the place.

Your eyes dart towards Joy, still engrossed in her phone, oblivious to the presence of the leather-clad man standing at the entrance.

With wide eyes and a racing heart, you quickly make your way towards the door, feeling a surge of panic.

Without uttering a single word, you grab Jungkook's wrist and guide him into the nearby janitor's room for more privacy and safety from any prying eyes.

"What are you doing here, Jungkook?" you whisper with concern, "You're practically begging to get me into trouble at this point," you add

Jungkook smirks in response, his gaze fixed on you. "Chill, sugar. No one saw me," he reassures leaning in, his intention clear as he moves in for a kiss, but you instinctively stop him, your hand placed firmly against his chest.

"Yet," you scoff, a note of panic creeping into your voice. "No one saw you yet," you repeat, emphasizing the word 'yet'.

Jungkook's smirk fades slightly, "Okay, okay," his tone shifts to a more serious one. "I'll be more careful. I didn't mean to worry you," his voice softened.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you glance at the door, "We should go back before someone notices," you suggest, grabbing his wrist

"Sugar," Jungkook stops you, tilting his head with a raised brow. "Did I ever tell you that you look cute when you're upset?" His comment manages to both annoy and make you blush.

As he tilts your chin up, his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, causing your pout to fade away almost instantly. It's hard to stay mad at him for too long.

But reality quickly sets back in, and you regain your serious tone. "We really have to leave," you insist, taking his hand once again, ready to make an exit.

However, he stops you in your tracks with a tilded head

A smirk plays on Jungkook's lips as he raises an eyebrow suggestively. "ever made out in a janitor's closet?" He steps closer, pulling you towards him,

You can't help but blush at his question, a mixture of surprise and curiosity bubbling inside you.

His boldness always catches you off guard. But as tempting as the idea sounds, you try to maintain your compostire, aware of the potential consequences. "Jungkook, we can't just-"

Before you can finish your sentence, his lips find yours once again, interrupting your protests with a kiss. In that moment, all rationality drifsts away as desire takes over.

Eventually, the need for air pulls you both back to reality, as you catch your breath, a small smirk tugs at the corners of Jungkook's lips. "See? Sometimes it's worth taking a little risk," he whispers with satisfaction.

"You're impossible," you mutter, unable to hide the smile on your face.

Irene's heels echoed through the studio, the sharp clacking sounds against the polished marble floor. She nonchalantly popped a gum bubble, her eyes scanning the various rooms in search of the right one. Spotting her sister, Joy, engrossed in her phone, Irene let out a small sigh.

"Yo, sis! Let's bounce. I've got a dick appointment lined up once I drop you off," she muttered, jingling the keys in her hand and waiting for her sister to join her.

Joy frowned, tucking her phone into her pocket and grabbing her bag. "Wait, I thought Mom was picking me up," she said, confusion on her face as she walked towards her sister.

Irene rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth curling into a sarcastic smile. "Change of plans, i guess," she replied dismissively, eyeing Joy from head to toe. "Nice tutu," she scoffed before strutting off, not bothering to wait for Joy to catch up.

Bit irene's jaw practically hits the floor when she catches sight of Jungkook strolling around the corner, hand in hand with someone whos outfit looks very familiar to her sisters.

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she quickens her pace, determined to catch up with you. With a stupid smirk, she grabs hold of Jungkook's wrists and teases, "Jungkookie, how adorable! So, you're picking up your sister too?"

Chewing her gum with a playful grin, Irene looks up at Jungkook, seemingly unfazed by his intimidating presence.

Meanwhile, your eyes meet Joy's, both of you wearing puzzled expressions, before shifting your gaze back to Irene, who still has her hand on your boyfriend's.

"You're Joy's sister?" you inquire, offering a friendly smile to Irene, hoping to clear up the tension. However, instead of a warm response, you receive a judging glare from her. "Yeah, whatever," she mutters dismissively.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed by Irene's behavior, and scans her from head to toe, taking in her shabby outfit.

"Oh? So, she's your cousin then?" Irene continues her interrogation

Quickly correcting her assumption, you speaknup with a bright smile, "No, actually, Jungkook is my boyfriend." The words slip out confidently

Irene momentarily stops chewing her gum, her eyes judging your appearance from head to toe. With a burst of laughter, she mocks, "That's the girl? Seriously? You've been leaving practice early for... her?" The sound of her laughter makes your brows furrow in confusion.

What was wrong with the way you looked?

"Irene, enough," Jungkook interrupts, his voice dripping with anger. He tightens his grip on your hand, his face agitated.

Without wasting another moment, he starts walking out, with you hand in hand, slamming the entrance door shut behind him with you.

As you step outside, the fresh air hits your face. Jungkook squeezes your hand reassuringly, breaking the silence. "Don't pay attention to her," he says, his voice soft yet determined, as if trying to shield you from Irene's hurtful words.

Before you can even gather your thoughts, you find yourself about to ask what the actual fuck just happened, but his words stop you in your tracks.

"She's one of the girls that goes to my gym, don't mind her, I've never-" he starts "I didn't have sex with her or anything" he finishes, "I promise."

You nod slowly, your lower lip involuntarily pouting as you stare at the ground. "Why was she so mean to me?" you murmur, feeling a wave of hurt wash over you.

In that moment, you release Jungkook's hand, your fingers no longer intertwined with his.

Jungkook lets out a sigh, his expression softening as he reaches up to brush away a stray strand of hair from your face. "Irene's friend has been trying to make a move on me," he explains, his voice tinged with frustration. He then cups your chin gently, lifting your gaze to meet his. "But you know I would never cheat on you, right?" he asks earnestly, his eyes searching for yours.

You take a moment to absorb his words, looking into his eyes. "Of course I know that, Kookie. I trust you completely. It was just... very sudden." Your words are laced with irritation, as you remind yourself that Irene's words should mean anything to you

Feeling a sense of relief, Jungkook pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he always did. "Shes a mean girl" he murmurs, his voice filled with spite. "I'm sorry you had to go throug that, that's the reason I don't... I don't mention you around the gym, the poeple there... they can be harsh" he admits poking your rib to cheer you up.

"Please, don't ever think I'm damn embarrassed of you or anything like that," Jungkook says, his voice filled with sincerity. He steps back slightly, his eyes locked onto yours, his gaze unwavering. "You're my girl, and I'm gonna do whatever it takes to keep you safe and sound."

His words wash over you, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you take in the sincerity behind his words. The weight on your shoulders seems to lighten just likebthat.

Wrapping your arms around Jungkook, you lean into his embrace, resting your head against his chest. "I know"

SERIES MASTERPOST

@kooliv @sexymenandcuteanimals101 @tatyhend @idontevenknow75 @dunixxd @saweetspoiled @codeinebelle @telepathytae @faepurity @koobsessed @jooniesxbby @bebejungkook @sxtaep @janedukiesworld @outro-kook @grasstrainerjoonie @ziko @jungshook7 @zerocge @dodoneck @beahonomo @jiimtaee @nervoustyphoonpersona @fan-ati--c @koobsessed @nucleo-bang-tan @sincerelyflora @lil-sracha @sweetonkookieandtae @exactlygreatcoffee @hoseokteardrop @aeonianamour @chaelvrx @genkima @gamer-carat @seokjinspinkslipper @kelsyx33 @loveejkk

Can someone make a very angsty Harwin Strong x reader story? Or an unrequited love something because I badly want to cry I still can't accept the fate of Laena and Harwin😭😭😭😭

AS IF! ― SERIES MASTERLIST

“Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing; but I have never been in love; it is not my way, or my nature; and I do not think I ever shall.”

― Jane Austen, Emma

Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Tyrell!Reader

Rating: Explicit. Trigger warnings will be placed in 18+ chapters.

“Clueless” inspired. Dedicated to all virgins who can't drive.

Summary: (Y/N) Tyrell lives her life just like an ordinary girl - big mansion, wealthy lawyer as a father, getting absolutely everything she wants. Without any worries of her own, as she keeps boys at a respectful distance, she is the perfect candidate to serve as matchmaker for everybody in town. Especially clueless new girls.

No worries of her own. If only the ridiculously handsome and intelligent Aemond Targaryen hadn't found himself right in the middle of her matchmaking games. And in her house as well, how lovely.

But surely it won't be a problem? She doesn't even care.

Ugh, as if...

COMING SOON

Lacy (LN4)

Summary: To the song “Lacy” by Olivia Rodrigo, that should explain it I feel like

Warnings: language, angst, sad sad sad

Note: I think this wasn’t the best I could do so if y’all want a part 2 let me know bc i feel like i could redeem myself

Lacy, oh, lacy, skin like puff pastry. Aren’t you the sweetest thing on this side of hell? Dear angel lacy, eyes white as daisies, did I ever tell you that I’m not doing well?

Luisinha’s eyes twinkled as they stared up at Lando, Y/n huddled in the corner as she analyzed the girl. Lists upon lists of things she had that Y/n didn’t plagued her mind, tormenting every thought and destroying the little bit of self confidence Y/n had left. It was cruel, how sweet and perfect Luisinha was. There was no reason to hate her or criticize her, pick her apart until Y/n felt better about herself. That was the worst part, the thing that hurt the most. It wasn’t the fact that Luisinha possessed the one thing Y/n had yearned for for years before or the fact that Luisinha was loved by everyone. No, it was the fact that, when Y/n lay awake at night, she couldn’t blame anyone else for her mistake other than herself. It was gutting and tiring, but the knowledge that Luisinha was completely innocent, ironically, made Y/n hate her more.

Somebody’s arm brushing up against hers pulled her out of her deep thoughts, her head turning around to see who had taken up the space. When her eyes met that of Lando’s Australian teammate, she smiled.

“They’re cute, yeah?” Oscar chuckled, mistaking her staring for adoration rather than what it truly was; jealousy.

Nodding, Y/n tilted her head as if she really cared about the conversation, “Yeah, for sure. Never seen Lando happier.”

The words were bitter, admitting outwardly that she had never, and probably would never, be the reason for that specific smile on his face.

Oscar took a sip of his water as he looked on at the couple, “Don’t even know how she fell in love with him.”

The world went quiet for a moment as Y/n’s eyes frantically turned to sear into the side of Oscar’s face, “What?”

Her tone made his eyebrows furrow in confusion and the look on her face had him shaking his head, “Did Lando not tell you? They said ‘I love you’ like a week ago?”

Her body went numb, the information hitting her so hard it felt like the air had been taken from her lungs. As if things couldn’t get harder, Lando’s arm wrapped tightly around his girlfriend as he kissed her, very clearly lovesick. She felt stupid. Partially stupid for allowing the deepest part of her to think they would have a chance to be even remotely close to what he had with Luisinha, and the other part being stupid for not seeing how gone he was for her.

It was right in front of her, that part was chilling, but the other part that had her heart sinking was the fact that Lando had forgotten to tell her such big news.

Another thing added to the list of things Y/n didn’t have that Luisinha did; Y/n was forgettable, Luisinha wasn’t.

—

Oh, I care, I care, I care. Like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time. Watching, hidden in plain sight. And, oh, I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life, I see you everywhere. The sweetest torture one could bear.

Y/n was shivering, the coat she wore not enough to keep her warm in the cold Monaco weather. She checked her phone once more, trying to spot any message from Lando saying he would be there soon, but she came up empty every time.

The hostess, with a look of pity, eyed her from inside the restaurant, the table for two under the name of “Y/n” for the reservation taunting her as she realized what she was witnessing. However, the hostess thought it was Y/n’s boyfriend standing her up, not her best friend who had most likely forgotten about the dinner because he was with his girlfriend.

It took Y/n the next few minutes to pull herself together, coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to answer his phone after the countless messages she had sent him asking when he was going to show up to the dinner they had planned weeks ago.

With her head hung low, she went back into the establishment, muttering words to the woman at the front about canceling her reservations and apologizing for the inconvenience. Before Y/n could turn around and sulk home, however, the hostess reached out and grabbed Y/n’s hand gently. With a small smile, she whispered, “I’m sure there’s a good reason as to why he didn’t show, don’t lose hope just yet. I’m sure he loves you very much. You’re a very beautiful girl, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Nodding, Y/n didn’t look up from her feet as she thanked the woman and left. The reassurance the woman had intended to be comforting destroyed her just a bit more, resulting in controlled tears falling from her face as she rounded corners and crossed streets.

Whilst waiting for the crosswalk to turn green, Y/n pulled out her phone. Instagram was the first app she clicked, proving to be a wrong decision when she saw Lando had posted on his story. Painfully, it was a picture of him and Luisinha at his house with dinner on their laps. Ashamed of how hurt she was, she tried to convince herself that being mad at him was unnecessary. Her feelings were a product of her longing, something he couldn’t be blamed for. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help, but feel abandoned. Years of friendship down the drain as he got distracted with someone else, someone who gave him more than she could. Luisinha granted him connections to parts of the entertainment industry that could help to grow his companies, gain access to new opportunities.

She tried to convince herself she was happy for him, but that secured feeling never truly came even after she got home.

Looking at her phone once more with no response from Lando, she went to bed.

Or, at least, laid in bed. Previously mentioned nights of staying up to blame herself returning.

—

Smart, sexy Lacy. I’m losing it lately. I feel your compliments like bullets on skin. Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate. Well, aren’t you the greatest thing to ever exist. Oh, I care, I care, I care. Like ribbons in your hair, my stomach’s all in knots. You got the one thing that I want. Oh, I try, I try, I try, try to rationalize people are people, but it’s like you’re made of angel dust.

Nights like these were supposed to be fun. Max, Y/n, and Lando all staying out into the late hours of the nights, drinking and dancing in random clubs around the city. However, this time it proved to be bittersweet as Lando informed the group Luisinha planned to tag along.

Y/n’s smile was fake, of course, but she was prepared to plaster it on for the rest of the night if it meant Lando’s good mood was preserved. Of course, Luisinha had shown up in a designer dress that hugged her body in all the right ways. Her smile was showstopping as she hugged Y/n, whispering to her about how gorgeous she looked.

“Thank you. That’s very sweet. You look very pretty as well.” Y/n got out painfully, wanting nothing to do with the woman in front of her.

“Doesn’t she?” Lando butt in as if he was trying to drive the knife deeper in Y/n’s heart. Safe to say, he was successful.

She chuckled dryly when he started waving his arms animatedly around, shouting, “Gorgeous! Impeccable! Breathtaking!”

It was a wonder Y/n didn’t break down right then. Shades of betrayal dousing out the fire in her eyes, the life in her body, as her mind forced her to take a look back on all the times she had thought Lando loved her as much as she did him. The time when he drove to her house in the middle of the night because she got a stomach bug and was throwing up; the time when he pretended to be her boyfriend so a random man at a bar would stop making her feel uncomfortable; the time when he had opened up to her about his mental health struggles, finishing it off with telling her how much he loved her and appreciated her. That moment, out of all of them, was the worst to relive because it was in the way he said her name, the way his fingers had gripped her hand, as he told her how much he adored her whole being. His tone had made it sound as if a real love declaration was the cusp of his lips, although those specific words never came. Instead, it was a quiet silence as he waited for her to respond and she waited for him to tell her everything she had ever wanted to hear. Y/n had locked that memory away in her mind, it being too crushing to bounce around in her mind like the others did. So, when it came up as he yelled around in front of her about how beautiful his girlfriend was, she was pushed over the edge.

Suddenly, her dress felt too tight and she became too aware of the tips of her fingers touching the tops of her thighs. She no longer wanted to go out and hang out with people whom she wanted to forget about. But, the cruelty of the world seemed to be targeting her as an opportunity to bail on their plans never came, and she was forced to listen to Luisinha’s giggling after Lando whispered something in her ear.

No amount of alcohol could cure the putrid taste of unrequited love, she knew that, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Shots on shots of vodka riddled the booth they had reserved in the back of the club. She didn’t want to dance, didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to sulk in her thoughts and allow herself to wallow in self pity.

Y/n was a fun drunk, but, that night, she was messy and sloppy, the complete opposite of what she knew Lando wanted. Luisinha had gotten tipsy; Luisinha had twirled around on the dance floor gracefully as if she couldn’t mess a single thing up; Luisinha had done everything right while Y/n tormented herself for being nothing like that. She couldn’t get out of her own head, clearly being too far gone alcohol-wise to think straight.

“Maybe you should slow down?” Max tried, coaxing the glass out of her hand when she had accidentally sloshed the liquid onto his lap.

Groaning and rolling her eyes, Y/n grabbed her bag, “You’re no fun. I’m going to find someone else.”

Max shook his head, reaching out to grab her wrist, knowing Lando would kill him if he left Y/n alone like this, but she was too quick for him, disappearing into the crowd in a millisecond.

He shouted for her, eyes scanning the herd of people, before going to check outside, but he continuously came up empty. The situation became even worse when Lando came back to their table, Luisinha in tow, with furrowed eyebrows.

“Where’s Y/n?” He quizzed, his gaze falling on a frantic Max.

“She left.” He said as his eyes failed to meet Lando’s.

There was a silence before Lando tried again, “I’m sorry, what?”

Max scoffed, “Lando, she left. I don’t know where she went and, no matter how hard I try, I can’t find her anywhere.”

Luisinha, being the angel she was, began looking around the club as if she could find Y/n in the spots Max had already looked.

“Did you call her?” Lando asked, pulling out his phone and clicking her contact.

It rang, continued to ring, until it clicked and he was met with an eerie quiet.

“Y/n? Where are you?” He asked softly.

Rustling and heels clacking was all he heard before her slurred words were saying, “I’m walking home.”

He shook his head immediately, grabbing his keys and nodding to Luisinha and Max, telling them he was going to go pick her up.

“No way, Y/n. Your house is so far from here on foot. Let me come get you and I can drive you home, how about that?”

She didn’t have much of a choice considering he was already outside of the club and unlocking his car, but that didn’t get through to her, “No, Lando. I don’t want to see anyone right now, especially you.”

His foot stepped on the gas, driving toward her house and hoping to find her on his way there, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He knew never to reason with a drunk, but she had been so distant lately, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what had happened to his best friend and the relationship they once shared.

Y/n huffed, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Continuing down the road he was on, he saw, in the distance, a black, shimmering dress, similar to the one he knew Y/n had worn that night. Sure enough, as he got closer, he saw her braced against a light post as she tried to take off her heels. Her hair was messy, eyes stained black with her smeared mascara, and, if Lando had to guess, she had been crying.

When he pulled up next to her, she scoffed loudly, “God, you can’t just leave me alone, huh? I said I didn’t want to see you, Lando. Leave me the fuck alone.”

He was visibly taken aback by her hostile nature, but, nevertheless, tried to get her in the car.

“Get in the car, Y/n. You shouldn’t be out here alone when you’re this drunk.” He unlocked the doors and got out of the car, walking towards her only for her to take a step back.

“I don’t want to get in the car with you. Go back to Luisinha.” She was practically spitting her words, aggression dripping off every syllable.

Lando groaned, reaching out for her once more, but just missing her, “Stop being stubborn, Y/n. Get in the car and I’ll drive you home.”

Finally, her fuse having run out, she shouted, “NO.”

Lando’s arms flew out beside him, “Ok, why?!”

She threw her shoe at his legs and, if they hadn’t been so disappointed in the way their partnership had turned out, they would’ve laughed.

“Why’d you never tell me you and her said ‘I love you’?” She stopped, putting her hands on her hips as her anger took a new look, quiet and controlled.

He blinked at her, “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter, Lando. Why?” She shrugged, staring blankly at him.

He looked away from her, hesitant to answer with the truth. His change in attitude allowed Y/n to continue, “What about last week when you didn’t show up for dinner?”

He shook his head, “What dinner?”

Her jaw dropped and she began laughing, “You still don’t remember? Did you look at any of my texts? Never wondered why I called you so many times last Friday night?”

He thought back, remembering he had spent that night with Luisinha, nothing about Y/n blowing up his phone. To check, he pulled the device out, looking through his messages and seeing, lost in all the other people trying to get ahold of him, was her asking where he was.

He breathed out deeply, “Shit, Y/n, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. It’s been happening a lot lately.”

“No, don’t do that. It hasn’t.” He tried to convince her, but she seemed unimpressed.

“Alright, so then why did you forget to tell me such a pivotal moment in your relationship?” She tried again.

His head fell into his hands, shaking it side to side, before mumbling, “Because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“How would I get hurt?” She said it as if he was stupid and being overly cautious for no reason. The fact that she was actually hurt by it, she wouldn’t tell him.

His eyes flew up to meet hers and in a small moment of confidence, Lando stated, “Because you love me.”

The four words hung in the air, painful and so incredibly true. She tried to come up with a deflection or some sort of counterargument, but, by the way he looked at her, she knew it was no use.

Sighing, “How long have you known?”

His hand grabbed ahold of her arm, her body finally not creating more distance, “That doesn’t matter. Y/n, this doesn’t change how I see you. In fact, knowing it’s true is good because…” He trailed off, their eyes lingering on each other as they both braced themselves for what was about to be said. Y/n let out a small smile for once that night and let herself get lost in the idea of what he was about to reveal, “I lo-”

Whatever he was about to say was completely interrupted when a car pulled up next to them, the window from the backseat being rolled down and Luisinha’s face popping out.

“Good, you found her! Let’s go home. Max and I are so tired.” She gave a tight-lipped smile, unknowingly having stopped a moment that would’ve ended her relationship. Her eyes seemed to follow their movements closely as if she was suspicious of the moment she had caught them in.

Lando looked back to Y/n, an apology swimming in his eyes, but she disregarded it. Muttering incoherent words, she yanked her arm from his hold and got in his car.

Defeated, once more, by the girl she wanted to be.

—

Lacy, oh, lacy. It’s like you’re out to get me. You poison every little thing that I do. Lacy, oh, lacy. I just loathe you lately and I despise my jealous eyes, and how hard they fell for you.

Days after that night, Luisinha’s entire demeanor toward Y/n shifted. She became more antagonistic. Long gone were the sweet comments about Y/n’s appearance, in place were backhanded compliments that had more than a few people raising their eyebrows.

Everything Y/n did was scrutinized and corrected by her, making it seem as though Y/n was incompetent. Subtly mean, Y/n found her reason to hate Luisinha. It was bittersweet, truthfully. Something Y/n had wanted to feel for so long; pure annoyance at the other girl in Lando’s life, but, it also caused a rift between her and him.

Lando and Y/n, the supposed iconic duo, stopped talking. Disappearing from her so rapidly were the nights when they would go out to get food only to gossip the whole time; disappearing were the times when he would invite her out with him and Max. Suddenly, she was seeing Luisinha laughing along with Max as they sat in the same booth she had just a few weeks before on different fan accounts. Luisinha, the better version of her, had become her immediate replacement and it killed her soul. A family she once admired had been stolen from her at the hands of someone she still loved and the other a woman whom, no matter how harsh she was, Y/n would always idolize and yearn to be.

Confusing, nevertheless. Questions now kept her awake at night instead of the usual self-torment.

Wasn’t Lando about to tell her he loved her on that cold, quiet street?

If so, why would he have ousted her so easily?

Why had she given her all to someone who, seemingly, didn’t care?

But, the one thing that never left her alone, the question that agonized her the most was the one there could never be a satisfactory answer to.

Why couldn’t she be Luisinha?

Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you.

A/N: LMK KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS BOTH GOOD AND BAD IDK HOW TO FEEL ABT THIS ONE I HOPE YOU LIKED IT

Twin Flame Masterlist

All parts linked below the cut :)

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty-One

Part Twenty-Two

Part Twenty-Three

Part Twenty-Four

Part Twenty-Five

Epilogue

Kate mini version

Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma x Sharma!sis

Summary: Y/n adapted to the Bridgerton family dynamic. However, she remains a little fearful and shy. Could the arrival of a prince change that?

part 1

Ever since Kate and Anthony assured Y/n that they wanted her to live with them, things had gotten better. The girl felt more comfortable with them, and appreciated the effort the couple made to show that she was always welcome. Riding horses for the three of them was an almost regular activity now, and these afternoons were Y/n's favorite.

Anthony had given her a beautiful black mare, which she insisted on learning to wash and comb, even though there were servants for that purpose. The man then spent the rest of the month teaching her how to ride, and this was something that brought her very close to Anthony, who she now considered like a brother.

The truth was, living with her older sister and her husband was wonderful. There was never a dull moment and she always had someone to talk to. Furthermore, the relationship between her and Kate was the strongest, and they were more inseparable than ever. Y/n's mother had agreed that her daughter would stay at Viscount's house for a while and thus extended her stay in India.

However, even though she was comfortable in that smaller core, she still felt shy around Anthony's siblings. She loved them all, and they always treated her equally, but in the back of her head there was always that thought that she was intruding.

Now, the Bridgerton family plus Y/n were on their way to the park to have a picnic. The season was starting again and suitors from all over the world were arriving to try to find someone. On the way there, Y/n entertained herself by listening to Eloise's grumbling that she would be entering the season again, even if the last thing she wanted was to find a husband.

Bridgerton had made a point of giving Y/n her feminist speech, and despite the eye rolls she received from some of her siblings, Y/n agreed with everything she said. However, she always wanted to be married to a man who truly loved her, and that wasn't going to change.

It was a sunny day, perfect for staying right by the lake and enjoying the delicious food that the maids had prepared. Anthony and Kate were in their own world, whispering to each other with gigantic smiles, Benedict and Collin were appreciating the ladies passing by, and Eloise was reading her book while Violet had met Lady Danbury and the two were chatting animatedly. Daphne and Simon hadn't arrived with their son yet, but Y/n couldn't wait to play with the baby again.

Meanwhile, she, Hyacinth, Gregory and Francesca were walking around the lake, picking up rocks and seeing who could throw them the furthest. Probably not the most etiquette thing they could do, but Violet and Anthony hadn't stopped them yet so they continued.

"I'm starting to get tired." Y/n grumbled, rolling the shoulder of her arm that was starting to feel sore from throwing so many rocks. "I think I'll sit down and get some sun."

"We'll be right there and keep you company then. I just need to beat Gregory first!" Hyacinth promised.

Y/n smiled towards the three, then heading towards the lawn where the others were. She momentarily looked down, seeing that she had gotten a little dirty on her dress when she went up against someone. The force of the impact had been so great that she lost her balance and began to fall backwards. However, this never happened because someone managed to grab her arms and pull her up again.

When she opened her eyes, having closed them in preparation for the fall, she saw a young man, around her age, looking worriedly at her. "Are you alright? My apologies, Miss, I was distracted and didn't see you."

"I'm okay." she said a little breathlessly. Their proximity didn't help either. "I'm the one who apologizes. I should be looking ahead instead of at my dress."

"It is a beautiful dress." he said, taking the opportunity to look her up and down, letting a small smile form on his lips. Y/n's cheeks immediately started to turn pinker. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…"

"Sharma." Y/n smiled. "I'm sorry, I don't recall who you are."

"Prince Charles, the youngest son of Queen Charlotte and King George." he chuckled when he saw Y/n's wide eyes, who quickly made a small bow. "Please, that's not necessary. On top of that, I was the one who almost made you fall to the ground."

"My apologies, Prince Charles. I returned from India only a few months ago and it seems that I still don't know everything I should know. This mistake will not be repeated."

"It wasn't anything serious. To be honest, I'm actually glad you didn't immediately know who I was. I went against you because I was running away from an Earl's daughters who were begging me to marry them." A silence fell over them. "Who are you here with?"

"My sister and her husband's family. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and Viscountess Kate Bridgerton." Y/n looked over his shoulder, seeing Anthony staring in her direction, more specifically at the Prince. He was about to get up when Kate pulled him down again, sending Y/n a smile and a wink. "They're looking at us right now."

"Of course, I know who they are. My mother loved the love story between them. Since then, she has only told my older siblings that she wants them to have something like that too. But they are not very interested in getting married, much to the Queen's disappointment."

Y/n just let out a small chuckle in response, not really knowing what to say. The proximity to the prince was becoming increasingly intimidating, and it didn't help that the entire Bridgerton family had noticed that interaction and were now observing discreetly.

"I apologize, Prince Charles, but I must return to my sister's family. We came to take advantage of this beautiful day to have a picnic."

"Of course, Miss Sharma. I hope to see you again soon." he nodded with his hands clasped behind his back. With a smile, he went back on his way while Y/n walked over to where Kate and Anthony were, her cheeks painted a light pink.

"What were you talking about?" Anthony questioned without being able to control himself any longer, his half-closed eyes still focused on the back of the boy walking in the distance.

Kate rolled her eyes at Anthony's exaggerated protectiveness, but the truth is that her heart started to beat faster when she saw how Anthony had so much care and affection for Y/n. It made her imagine how protective he would be of their daughters.

"Don't pay attention to Anthony, Y/n. The prince seemed very interested in talking to you. You should have gone for a walk together."

"Sister!" the younger girl exclaimed with wide eyes, becoming even more embarrassed. "He was just apologizing for going against me."

"That boy, prince or not, should look where he is going! Irresponsible, that's what he is!" Anthony continued to mumble, ignoring the look his wife sent him.

"Well, I am delighted that you made a new friend, Y/n. Now come sit with us for a while and drink some water, it's very hot."

"You're getting worse than mother." Y/n rolled her eyes in amusement. She added with a wink, "I guess it's a good training for the future."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"I do not want to go." Y/n stated, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Sister, we've already had this conversation." Kate repeated for the thousandth time, but still with the same patience as the first time. The older woman sighed, looking understandingly at her sister who was looking at the floor with a pout. "What are you really afraid of? It's your first ball, it's normal for you to be nervous."

Y/n was going to be subject to the season for the first time, where she could meet her future husband. Despite all the nerves she felt, she was happy to have Kate, Anthony, and the rest of the Bridgerton family with her. Furthermore, she would be in the same situation as Francesca, except that the latter had been named diamond of the season.

"How's mother and Edwina?" Y/n tried to change the subject, instead asking about the two other Sharmas who were in Prussia. Edwina was pregnant with her first child with Prince Friedrich and Mary had gone there, after a brief stop in England, to support Edwina.

"Y/n, don't change the subject. You can talk to me."

"What if no one asks me to dance, Kate?" Y/n finally revealed her fears shyly. She spoke so quietly that Kate had to strain to understand her words, but when she did her eyebrows furrowed in sadness. "You and Anthony took me in, what if now no one asks me to dance and I make you look bad?"

"First of all, you could never make us look bad and we would never be disappointed in you. I even think Anthony's biggest dream would be if you and Francesca didn't dance with anyone." Kate chuckled knowing how protective her husband was. "And I don't want you to be forced to dance with anyone. You can say no if someone invites you to dance and you don't want to. And if anything happens, call Anthony or his brothers."

"I will." the girl nodded, seeing her sister's serious look. "I hope everything goes well."

"Of course it will! And you won't be alone, we'll all be there in case you need anything. And who knows, maybe you'll see a certain prince. I heard the queen is going to make him participate in this season."

Y/n didn't respond to the teasing, she just continued to get ready with the help of the maids. When Anthony called them from downstairs, the two sisters hurried to meet him, seeing that the rest of the family was already there with the exception of Francesca.

When they saw her, a big smile appeared on everyone's faces, Violet going to give her a hug as soon as she reached the end of the stairs and Daphne holding her hand. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." she smiled at the women, and was later praised by Eloise, and the Bridgerton brothers.

Then, it was Francesca's turn to go down the stairs, catching their attention. After the compliments she received, the girl stood next to Y/n, the two holding hands as they walked to the carriages waiting for them.

"You look very beautiful, diamond of the season." Y/n said with a teasing smile, squeezing her hand in Francesca's in comfort.

"You do as well, Princess Sharma." Francesca giggled. To relieve the tension, the girl looked straight ahead at Anthony who was helping Kate into the carriage, his forehead dripping with sweat as he looked discreetly at the two teenagers. "I think my brother is going to pass out from how nervous he looks."

"Tonight promises to be quite interesting. At least he has my sister to control him a little, or I think he would be glaring at every suitor in the room, even if they didn't even want anything to do with us."

When they arrived at the Queen's castle, they were both amazed by the place. An orchestra played in the middle while some couples were already dancing, the space decorated with various details and chandeliers lighting up the room. When the Bridgerton family entered, everyone stopped to observe the diamond of the season, who was still clinging to Y/n.

To give her the focus of attention, Y/n tried to move away but Francesca just grabbed her hand tighter, sending her a look of fear. The Sharma girl nodded in understanding, then stood on Francesca's side, also being subjected to the curious looks of other people.

"Come on, girls." Anthony said, guiding the family to a corner while everyone analyzed the environment. He then turned to his two friends, who in his eyes were too young to be thinking about suitors, but he knew that this was the right age. "If you need anything, and I mean anything, go to one of us. We'll always be here to make sure you're okay. Now, all of you split up and socialize."

"They already look so nervous and you're going to scare them even more with your nerves." Benedict placed a hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Relax, brother. Go dance with your wife, we are also here to take care of them."

"I know." Anthony sighed, running a hand over his face. His tense muscles only relaxed when he felt Kate's hand caress his arm as she smiled understandingly. "Shall we dance, Viscountess Bridgerton?"

"We shall." she giggled, letting her husband guide her to the center of the room.

Meanwhile, Y/n watched the people at the ball nervously and curiously. They were all dressed to the nines, with the best fabrics and jewelry that showed the families' wealth and status. The Sharma smiled slightly when she noticed a girl being asked by a suitor. It was obvious that they were both nervous, but when he finally managed to ask the question, the girl blushed and accepted with a big smile.

Y/n sighed, turning her attention elsewhere. Her heart was beating heavily against her chest, wondering if she was going to experience the same situation as that girl.

A light touch on her shoulder made her snap out of her thoughts. Y/n turned to the side, her eyes widening when she saw Prince Charles standing there, both hands behind his back and a perfect smirk on his lips.

"Miss Sharma, what a pleasure to see you again."

"Prince Charles." she greeted, making a small bow. "This time I haven't forgotten my manners."

"I must say you look beautiful tonight." he praised, gently taking one of her delicate hands and bringing it to his lips, lightly kissing her skin. Y/n's cheeks immediately flushed, getting worse when she realized that they were attracting the attention of others. "Are you enjoying the ball?"

"Very much, thank you. The orchestra plays beautifully. It's lovely to see so many people dancing, especially my sister and Viscount Bridgerton. I have never seen them happier."

"Indeed. We could dance too… If you would like to, of course." Y/n didn't think she had ever seen the boy being shy, but she had to admit that it was really cute to see him like that.

"Are you sure? Many people are already looking at us… Including the Queen." she whispered the last part with a look of fear. "Are you supposed to find a lady to marry this year?"

"My mother hopes so, but she doesn't pressure me into anything. Right now, I just want to dance with you. Please? Don't pay attention to anyone else, just focus on me."

Y/n swallowed hard, but nodded, resting her hand on the arm Charles offered. The two walked to the dance floor as soon as the song ended, preparing for a new melody. The Sharma girl held her breath when she felt the boy's hand position itself on her waist, pulling her closer, while the other intertwined with hers.

The music started slowly and Y/n let the prince lead her, too nervous to even remember the choreography she had already practiced several times before. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kate and Anthony looking at them as they danced, giving nods of encouragement but still keeping their attention on them.

The rest of the people looked in shock, seeing the youngest son of the Queen and the King dancing with the sister of Viscountess Bridgerton who had caused a lot of talk last season. The Queen was also watching them, a small smile appearing on her lips.

"You're not just focusing on me." Charles hummed, squeezing her waist to show she was just joking. "And on top of that I'm a great dancer."

"My apologies. But I can't agree with the last part. I think —" but she couldn't finish her sentence as Charles picked her up and twirled her around several times until her laughter could be heard above the music.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he laughed teasingly, loving the blush on her cheeks. He wanted to make her blush all the time, he loved the effect he had on the girl who was constantly on his mind since that day in the park.

"Prince Charles, this will certainly not be seen very well by other people. They are all whispering about us now! More than they already were."

"Call me Charles." He said, ignoring the rest of what Y/n said. His eyes were intense, studying the girl's face and stopping on her lips before moving up to her eyes.

"No."

"No?" he raised his eyebrows, as if he wasn't expecting that answer. Y/n stepped away from him, making a small bow. And only then did he realize that the song had already ended.

"I really enjoyed this dance, thank you. I hope to meet you again. We keep crossing paths so who knows?" she smiled, turning her back and walking towards Francesca who was alone in the corner, a drink in her hand.

Prince Charles definitely wanted to see Y/n Sharma again, his gaze following the girl's movements as if in a trance. Surely him standing in the middle of the dance floor looking at Y/n would be the main topic in the paper of Lady Whistledown.

WTF I'VE BEEN CRYING MY EYES OUT BECAUSE OF THIS AND I CAN'T WAIT FOR PART 2!!!

fragile line | daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x driver!reader

You and I walk a fragile line I have known it all this time But I never thought I'd live to see it break

what happens when the driver daniel falls in love with, ends up being the one who brings his career to a screeching halt? word count: 7.7k (im so sorry) warnings/tags: fluff-ish, plot with implied/very little smut, angst, mclaren danny, zak brown (gross), some incorrect f2 stats but whatever, time jumps, really just a lot of angst, its a rollercoaster

“What do you know?”

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you, the emphasis making it clear as day that you both carried the same career-altering information. 

His signature grin and comforting optimism were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Daniel’s expression could be described in a variety of ways. Solemn, disappointed, hurt. 

“What was I supposed to do?” You asked, going straight to the defensive. You couldn’t be helpful in this scenario, you just needed to explain yourself. He wouldn’t understand it from your perspective, but you had to try. 

“Not take the seat,” he offered a solution, as if it was that simple. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you corrected. You had no say in this. McLaren had plenty of driver options for the 2023 season. There were rumours of Daniel’s contract coming to an end a year early anyway, everyone heard them, everyone ignored them. The only thing that remained uncertain for a while was who would replace him should the rumours be true.

You. 

“You don’t even like McLaren.” You told him, voice raising a little as if that helped get the point across. “You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

It was a rhetorical question, but Daniel noticed the way your bottom lip quivered. He caught the way your eyes dropped from his, even just for a split second. There was something unspoken between you, something that weighed on your mind and Daniel stepped forward, wanting to know what exactly it was. 

“Zak-” you started, reluctant to even say this. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

Here meaning Daniel’s flat in Monaco. The place you spent more nights at than your own. You played it off by saying his view was better but that was such a bullshit answer. Daniel’s flat always felt more like home than yours ever did. 

You had formally met the Australian driver a few years ago, but god did time fly. It was at a race in Monza. You could pretend you didn’t know the date but of course you did, you had it memorised. September 3rd, 2020. There was no way you could forget the day your life changed for the better. 

Or possibly, for the worse. It was up in the air at this point. 

You were new to the Formula 2 series. The only female driver on the grid as you raced with Prema alongside Mick Schumacher. F3 proved to be quite a successful stint for you and you had your eyes set on the coveted Formula 1 series. You wanted to be in the big leagues. 

Daniel saw that. He saw how determined you were to not only make waves in Motorsport, but to make something of yourself. You trained just as hard, if not harder than the other drivers in the junior series and Daniel had seen that for a while. He was often surprised to see you at the hotel gym, already working up a sweat when he walked in at a little after 6am. He would be even more surprised when he saw you there in the evening when other drivers went and called it a night or even went and celebrated. 

Your race weekends were the same as F1 weekends, but you just had limited ones. It was a shorter season, less intense, but whenever you were there. Daniel saw you. He saw you and he paid attention. He even rooted for you, very publicly as well whenever he could, despite the two of you never having exchanged a word. 

The first time you heard about Daniel cheering you on was after the Monaco race, quite early on into your first season. You qualified 7th, not ideal for a track like Monaco where the opportunities to overtake were far and few between, but somehow you did it. And then you did it again. And you could say it was luck but it was really smart strategy and an insane amount of driver skill that had you finishing fifth. In Monaco. 

Those were Daniel’s words. He was asked pre-race if he watched the F2 run and he said of course. He said he “wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” wanting to see what you could do this weekend. 

“It’s not luck, she’s incredibly talented,” Daniel had told the Sky Sports reporter. “She’s doing big things in the series, and I’m rooting for her. Truly. It’s rare a driver comes around with such raw natural talent, where you look at them and you know racing’s just in their blood, but it’s in hers. I would love to see her in Formula 1 one day.”

You watched that interview clip about twenty times. Daniel Ricciardo, the Daniel Ricciardo who had won Monaco a few years back, was complimenting you. He was rooting for you. 

It wasn’t until Monza, nearing the end of your season that he finally approached you. 

“I want to work with you,” Daniel said, straight to the point. You were in the middle of stretching in the hotel's fitness centre. It was only Thursday, the race weekend itself had barely started but Daniel knew he’d find you in there. 

You pulled your airpods out and looked up at him in the mirror, “You what?”

“I want to work with you,” Daniel repeated, this time sitting down on the floor next to you. He kept your stare in the reflection. “I’m not a trainer by any means, but I want to work with you. I want to see you in Formula 1.”

You were flattered, honoured really, but you didn’t know what that entailed. “Work with me how?”

“Well, regular fitness training for starters,” he said. “But managing, really. I want to help you with everything that it takes to move up. Media training, mental preparedness, finding sponsors, getting you in touch with the right people. Let me help you, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure what brought this on. Part of you was convinced it was because he knew this would look good on his behalf. If you did make it to Formula 1 and Daniel’s name was attached to yours, he’d look like a genius. A hero. He would be known as the first person from F1 to publicly support you. 

But that wasn’t what it was at all. When you agreed and accepted his help, you soon came to learn that Daniel didn’t want to be in your spotlight at all. He found the opportunities that you needed and then stepped back. He didn’t mention to the media at all that he was helping you, he didn’t see a need to. He saw your potential and he truly wanted to help you make something off.

So there he was during the off season, meeting you in London where you resided. He trained with you, set you up with the right people, did weekly check-ins, he really was like a sort of manager. 

He was there during pre-season testing the following year, literally. He stood in the Prema garage like he was just another member of the team. No one really questioned it, not when you said he was acting as a mentor to you. Everyone loved Daniel’s presence there and he was told he was welcome whenever. 

He was there during race weekends whenever he could find time in his own busy schedule. He was never there during the actual race, needing that time to prepare for his own, but he always watched from his drivers room or had someone in his ear updating where you were and what was happening.

He was there in Silverstone, when you crashed during Saturday's Sprint Race.

It was one of the last sessions of the day, Daniel had already finished qualifying and he was standing in the back of your garage, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glued to the screen. 

He was the first voice you heard when you spun, losing the breaks in mere seconds and all you could do was brace yourself for the impact of the barriers. 

“Tell me you’re okay.” Daniel’s voice came through your radio. Not your engineer, not your team principal. Daniel. “Say something, sweets, tell me you're okay.”

Sweets, he called you. But only ever in private, or in front of close friends. What started as a joke when you complained about him not having any sweets in his flat the first time you visited in Monaco, stuck. 

But everyone had access to the team radios. It could be heard by other engineers, other teams, fans even and those watching at home should F1TV choose to broadcast it.

Of course they did. They aired the exchange for everyone to hear and it spread like wildfire. It was all anyone on social media could talk about. 

“Say something, sweets. Tell me you’re okay.” 

“I’m okay,” you sputtered out, hands shaking as you unclenched them. It was an instinct to pull them off the steering wheel and tuck your arms to your chest, physically bracing where you could. 

“Good,” Daniel breathed out a very obvious sigh of relief. “Good.” He paused, and then with a quiet chuckle added, “What the fuck was that then?” 

You laughed in response, needing the humour at such a traumatic time. You had crashed before, but this was a bad one. You didn’t even need to step out of the vehicle to know you were lucky to not feel any immediate injuries, but there was a ringing in your ear and the adrenaline was preventing you from really understanding the damage your body had sustained. 

It wouldn’t have helped, though, to have gotten an earful, not like it was your fault anyway. It also wouldn’t have helped if you were asked again and again if you were okay. The more people asked, the more stressed you would grow. Daniel knew you needed a bit of lightheartedness at this time. 

“No brakes, Danny,” you answered through a soft laugh.

“That just sounds like an excuse to me,” he muttered, the sarcasm evident even through the crackling radio.

“Are you going to continue to question my driving abilities or are you going to send medical out here to help me?”

That whole interaction went viral. From the radio message, to the clips of Daniel accompanying you to the medical centre, to the photos of the two of you smiling in the paddock despite the bruising on your body, the concussion you were diagnosed with and the instruction from the doctor that you were not stable enough to race on Sunday.  

Which sucked, to put it plainly. But you were with Daniel. He made the situation bearable. With his arm around your shoulder, he walked you to the car at the end of the day, having waited with you the whole time. 

People speculated, of course. Questions were asked. 

Why was Daniel Ricciardo paying such close attention to you? Why did he get over the radio when he crashed? Why did it sound so flirty? Had he been in your garages the whole time and no one noticed? Was he a mentor? A friend? More?

You had put out a statement when you got to the hotel, thanking everyone for the kind words and well wishes. You shared that you would not be driving on Sunday and you also shared that you were thankful for the support of Daniel Ricciardo, your mentor, who reminded you that even the best of the best crash out sometimes. 

Mentor, you publicly called him That’s what he was, right? Or trainer. Or Manager. Or friend, really. There were a lot of words to describe his relationship to you. 

People online didn’t believe it. They thought there was more because, who looks at each other like that if they’re not fucking? 

But you weren’t. Honest to god, that line with Daniel was never crossed. You never even considered it. Always content with his companionship and his advice, you didn’t want anything physical or romantic. 

At least, you thought you didn’t. 

Daniel dragged you into his room instead of letting you go up to yours because you were under strict instructions to not be left alone for the next twelve hours should the concussion worsen. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, handing you a glass of water. “I know I joked over the radio, but I was worried. It wasn’t a pretty crash.”

“Are any crashes pretty?”

He sat down next to you, closer than normal considering when he rested his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers were within the distance needed to play with the strands of your hair. 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “I guess it depends on the driver. I make the crashes pretty.” 

The comedic gasp you let out as you clenched your chest had him laughing. 

“Daniel Ricciardo, are you calling me ugly?”

“Don’t twist my words!” He exclaimed, eyes squinting as his smile widened. “I said I was pretty.” 

You hummed, “You pretty much said I made the crush ugly.” 

“I didn’t say you were ugly,” Daniel playfully tugged on a strand of your hair. “You’re not- I mean, you-”

And then the humour faded. He met your eyes, his hand fell to your shoulder. He was still smiling but it was the sort of gentle smile one wears when they figure out the answer to a question that had been eating at them for a while. 

Something clicked for Daniel. At this very moment. 

He wasn’t going to let it escape him. 

“Pretty doesn’t do you justice,” Daniel told you, voice lowering. “You’re breaktaking, Y/N. On the racetrack, at home, at events, you put everyone around you to shame. And it’s not- it isn’t just your appearance, it’s you. Everything about you. Your heart, your charisma, the way your eyes light up when you smile but only if you’re talking to people you like,” he chuckled, having experienced it first hand and having seen the way you don’t look nearly as pleased when someone you dislike approaches you. 

You were speechless, though. Frozen where you sat as this admission came out of seemingly nowhere. 

And Daniel was attractive, that was an undeniable fact, he was everything anyone could ever want in a man. But you never allowed yourself to look at him the way other people would. He was your trainer, manager, mentor, friend. 

You had no words to explain the way he was staring at you now. Nor could you explain why it made you feel more alive than driving a racecar at inhumane speeds ever could. 

Daniel took another breath, eyes never leaving yours. “You are unlike anyone I have ever come across and I know, in my lifetime, I will never find someone who could ever compare to even a fraction of who you are.”

There was no way you could continue to be just friends after those words passed his lips. 

You kissed him. You had to. It wasn’t like there was anything you could say that would match what he had already said, nor could you even find the words. 

You kissed him and Daniel pulled you onto his laps, your legs moving to straddle either side of his hips. His hands roamed your body, sliding up the Prema shirt you still had on as your tongue roamed every possible inch of his mouth. 

His hand gripped your waist, rolling you over top of him so you could feel in a matter of seconds how this conversation had now taken a turn. His cock started to harden, constricted by his pants, but you still felt it underneath you each time he shifted, each time you grinded against him. 

When you reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, Daniel leaned back, both of you taking that second to catch your breath and question if you were really going to do this.

“Is this a mistake?” You whispered, your thumb gently tracing over his lips. Your working relationship was perfect. This could ruin everything. You had fears, doubts, worries. One night could lead to dozens of complications. 

But Daniel shook his head and all of those thoughts vanished.

“No,” he said, sounding so sure of himself with that one syllable. “I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life but you are not one of them.”

That was the only validation you needed. You kissed him again, more lust, more passion, than before as Daniel stood up, carrying you towards the bed at the back of the room. He dropped you down on the edge of it, smiling at the squeal that escaped your lips.

Daniel wanted to worship you every way he could. He was gentle with you, with your body, as he dipped his head between your thighs, making you feel a wave of euphoria that no one had ever brought you too before. 

It wasn’t until you were begging for more did Daniel realise he didn’t need to be gentle the entire night. He slid two fingers past your folds, lifting his head and hovering his body over yours, wanting to feel your desperate breaths hit his face as he rapidly thrusted his digits in and out of you, your walls clenching around him.

When he attached his lips to that spot on your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin, you saw stars. Daniel’s motions didn’t let up as you came around his fingers, loving the way your legs shook and how you dragged your hand through the hair on the back of his head.

He was cautious about doing anything else, knowing you were injured, he didn’t want to overstimulate you or cause any more pain. 

But you needed him. You reached for the zipper of his pants and tugged it down, telling Daniel you wanted this, as if the way you looked up at him didn’t already make that perfectly clear. 

He was careful when he entered you, patient. The tip of his cock slid past your folds slowly and he kissed your collarbone so gently you almost didn’t feel it as you adjusted to his size, quiet moans emitting from the back of your throat. 

He had praised you before, but only ever at the race track, so there was something so familiar yet so foreign about the way he whispered against your skin. It lit a fire within you.

“You take me so well, sweets,” he fought back a groan as your walls tightened around him when you clenched your legs. “So good for me.”

It was safe to say the dynamic between you two changed after that night. 

Daniel adored you already, admired you greatly for your achievements and growth in the sport. But now he fought with himself every weekend, knowing that he couldn’t touch you how he wanted. He couldn’t show you the attention he so desperately wanted. He couldn’t kiss you when you got that podium in Belgium, despite finding a way to sneak out of the pre-race duties for a second to run to the barrier to be there for you with the rest of the Prema team. 

Whatever was going on between you, it was unlabelled and it was private. The rest of the world didn’t need to know you were sleeping with the man you looked up to, the one who helped you become a great athlete in such a short period of time. 

People continued to speculate. You were private, sure, but you weren’t overly careful. 

You were seen landing in Monaco over the summer. You were spotted hanging out with Daniel on plenty of occasions. Even though you kept your hands off of each other and refused to act like anything more than friends out in public, you were different when you returned after the break. You both were. Everyone noticed. 

Daniel was, if it was even possible, happier. And you were less stressed it seemed. While you were still fighting a constant battle of being the only female in F2, it no longer seemed as heavy because the weight of it wasn’t just on your shoulders anymore. Daniel was there too. 

It wasn’t just physical, what you had. The emotional connection you shared was undeniable. Daniel was always there for you, and you, him. During the bad days, the good ones, and everyday in between. 

When you finished the season 5th in the drivers championship, the only person you wanted to celebrate with was Daniel. He was so proud of you. He watched you go from finishing 13th last year to 5th. He played a huge part in that, but when you tried to tell him that, he only brushed it off, saying that it was all you, he was just happy to be there for the ride. 

It was his idea for you to test drive for McLaren at the end of the year, too. ‘We’ll get you in a real F1 car’ he said. And you didn’t question it when the offer was brought forward to participate in a few practice sessions. It was exhilarating and terrifying and you cried tears of joy when you stepped out of his car because this was what you dreamed of. Driving a Formula 1 car. 

Now you just needed a permanent seat and Daniel wanted that for you too. He was your biggest supporter, and you only grew closer as the days went on.

You met his family over the holidays. He spent New Years Eve in London with you. 

When the season started again, he spent more time with you and Prema. When there were no scheduled F2 races during F1 weekends, you accompanied him in the McLaren garage. 

At this point, quite a few people knew you were together, or at least they assumed it.

You didn’t post about it, you didn’t want to, you didn’t need to. Daniel didn’t need to show you off, nor did you feel obligated to let everyone know you were with him. What you had was private, it was sacred, it was only for the two of you. 

But of course whenever you had a good performance, whether it be from a practice session, qualifying or a race, he’d share your celebration picture to his Instagram story. 

“Would you ever do a shoey?” Daniel asked you one Tuesday night, zooming in on a photo of you, more specifically on the smile on your face as you clenched your second place trophy from Imola on Sunday. 

You rolled your eyes but the smile was impossible to hide as he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. 

“Next time you win,” Daniel suggested with a laugh. “I expect a shoey.”

“I’m not Australian.”

“You’re dating one, sweets.”

You never actually discussed what you were. The term boyfriend-girlfriend seemed so childish. Dating was, in a sense, accurate, but again, there were no labels. He had your heart, you had his. That was the only thing that mattered. 

“The world doesn’t know that,” you pointed out. 

“They kind of do,” Daniel kissed your cheek, giving your side a squeeze as he stepped aside to help you prepare dinner. 

You weren’t even sure when you fell into such a domestic lifestyle but there you were, practically moved into Daniel’s place in Monaco at this point  and he was at your side, chopping carrots for the salad while you prepared the chicken breasts. 

“A shoey would confirm it,” you glanced up at him, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t completely against the idea. 

Daniel stepped behind you, fingers playfully pinching your waist, “Just think about it. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. I just reckon it would be entertaining for everyone.”

He didn’t bring it up again, not even when you got third in Spain and didn’t do it. It was your first time getting a back to back podium since you started racing and of course it was something to celebrate, but the idea of a shoey made your stomach churn. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the world to know about your commitment to Daniel. 

You walked a thin line, being with him. And while you enjoyed every possible minute spent with him, you knew the world was cruel. The second you officially went public, you’d lose respect in the motorsport industry. 

The only female F2 driver dating an F1 driver? How scandalous.

Despite the rumours, the correct rumours, you were still in a bubble with him. You could pretend you were just friends, close friends. The tabloids had nothing to go off except your polite interactions and maybe a little too friendly smiles and so what if you were there in the McLaren garage cheering him on? 

You were his biggest supporter and he was yours.

But it didn’t help that while your performance was improving, his was rapidly declining. While you had less races than his, already your stats were better. You qualified in the top 5 for the first three races. You finished second in Imola, third in Spain, already better than how you started the season last year.

Monaco was next. Daniel loved Monaco, you both did. Everyone did, it was the pinnacle of Formula 1. 

It was unfortunate that your weekends ended up so drastically different. 

Daniel qualified 14th and then finished 13th. He wasn’t proud of it, but he did his best to hide his disappointment for you, especially since you were starting on the front row, P2, for the feature race. 

And somehow, you won. 

After trailing behind Drugovich for the majority of the race, you were starting to believe you would finish behind him too. And you probably would have, had there not been a safety car almost six laps after he boxed for fresh tyres, giving you the advantage of newer tyres and less wasted time. It was a strategy your team was banking on, waiting for a safety car. It was risky, but it paid off. Overtaking was nearly impossible with Formula 1 cars, but you had a better chance in your series and somehow, by the grace of god, you did it. You pulled ahead and swiped the lead from Felipe. 

You made history that weekend. The first female F2 driver to not only podium, but to win at Monaco. You gripped that first place trophy so tight your hand turned red. 

Usually, F2 didn’t draw nearly as big of a crowd, but this weekend was different. Everyone was a fan of the series after that performance, a fan of you. You saw people in the crowd wearing Red Bull gear, Ferrari merch, McLaren hats, and they were all applauding you. 

Of course, you were blown away by the support. Hearing your national anthem play was an incredible sound. There were tears in your eyes and your entire body was trembling, yet somehow you managed to find Daniel. Right in front, with your team. 

He was so proud of you. 

Despite his shitty qualifying, despite knowing he had such a low shot at earning points at his race that was in just under an hour, he was there for you. You couldn’t tell if he was cheering the loudest, or if you were just so prone to finding him in a crowd that you couldn’t process anything or anyone else. 

You weren’t sure what came over you, but once you grabbed the champagne bottle, you found yourself taking your shoe off as well. As Felipe and Théo started spraying their bottles in celebration, you poured the bubbly liquid into the sole of your racing shoe and lifted it up to your lips, pointing directly at Daniel who couldn’t believe what he was watching. 

It was rancid, as you figured it would. It was champagne out of a sweaty shoe, you knew it wouldn’t taste good, but it was a shoey and it was for Daniel. Felipe patted your back, laughing at your reaction and muttering something about how Daniel would get a kick out of that. 

He was right, but Daniel wasn’t the only one who found it entertaining. 

Your name was once again trending following the Monaco Grand Prix. Not Checo’s, even though he won the F1 race. Your name. 

Not that you really cared that night. How could you care about what the internet was saying when the man you were with told you that he loved you for the first time? Nothing online mattered, not when Daniel took your face in his hands and told you he was madly in love with you. He was proud, he was happy, he was in love. 

And you knew you loved him too. You had known this for a while. Monaco was just the perfect time to say it. 

After going about as public as you could without physically coming out and saying you were dating the Australian driver, Monaco was the perfect place to tell him you loved him. You were on cloud 9, you were making history, you were in love. 

You continued to deny, or at least ignore, the rumours that followed, still. You both did. You were in love with each other, not the whole world. Things would get complicated if you announced you were dating. You were vying for a Formula 1 seat and you wanted it without Daniels’ influence. 

But at the following race in Baku you were asked similar questions. 

“Your shoey last week, did that have anything to do with Daniel Ricciardo being there to cheer you on? You two have gotten pretty close in the last few months, he’s one of your mentors, isn’t he?” 

You shifted your weight to one leg, wondering what the fuck kind of post-qualifying question that was. You had just completed three back to back podiums, you were on a hot streak now, starting third at this next race and the reporter only cared about what happened at the podium celebration last weekend.

“Sorry, did you have a question about this week's race?” You asked, and when he stammered over his words, you just nodded and walked away, a tight smile on your face. 

Daniel’s conversation went a bit differently. 

“Y/N’s shoey last week, we all saw it. Was that your influence?”

“Yeah I never thought she’d actually do it, it was sweet,” Daniel laughed. “It was great though, I happily pass the tradition onto her.”

“She’s really come along in Formula 2 since she started back in 2020, do you think she has what it takes to be Formula 1’s first full-time female driver?”

“Absolutely,” there wasn’t a shred of doubt or hesitation. He was happy to talk about you, to explain to the rest of the world why you were up and coming and should be taken seriously as a real contender for a Formula 1 seat. He probably would have continued on if his PR rep hadn’t pulled him away, reminding him of other duties.

The next few races were similar to your first ones. A couple more podiums, some outstanding qualifying sessions, more history being made. Your phone was blowing up weekly, everybody wanted to talk to you now and you knew Daniel had something to do with it. Him constantly sharing the faith he had in you did wonders for your reputation. 

You might have been on top of the world, but you were well aware you were alone up there.

Daniels’ performances were anything but newsworthy. He had gotten a few points in Austria and France, but nothing to be extremely proud of, especially when he compared his 9th place finish at the Red Bull Ring to your first place podium, making it your second one this season. 

He never let his disappointment for himself and McLaren stand in the way of your achievements. In fact, you didn’t often speak about the races when you were together. You were aware Daniel was having issues with the team, with Zak, with the car, but he didn’t want to weigh you down with his own problems, even though you assured him time and time again you could handle it. 

Really, if Daniel had come to you with his struggles, you would have thought twice when Zak Brown approached you prior to the Hungarian Grand Prix. You probably would have slammed the door to your drivers room in his face if you knew how Daniel was being treated at McLaren. 

But Daniel held his cards close to his chest while Zak laid his all out on the table.

“If a spot opened up for you,” he said, after spending the last ten minutes talking about the rich history of the team and praising your accolades. “Would you consider it?”

It wasn’t an official contract, just the start of a conversation that could lead to one.

Of course you thought of Daniel. And Lando, having grown close with him simply through Daniel. 

“For 2024?” You asked, knowing both of them were set to continue driving through to at least the end of 2023. 

“No,” Zak shook his head. You didn’t like how harsh his tone had turned, having no remorse for what he was about to say. “Daniel’s contract would be ending early.”

You leaned back in your chair, fingers tapping the table as you tried to recall Daniel ever telling you that he was leaving McLaren. “Is he- he wants out?”

“It’s mutual,” Zak assured you. “He knows we can’t give him the car he wants and unfortunately, he’s not delivering what we need. We had high hopes with Daniel, but the working relationship isn’t what any of us thought it would be.”

It’s mutual. Those two words was all it took to convince you that Zak Brown and Daniel had already had a conversation about this, about terminating the contract a year early. 

It didn’t help that Zak brought up your test sessions in the McLaren from last year, pointing out that you had better times than Lando, even. He went on to praise what you were doing this year at Prema and said, multiple times, that you would be an asset to McLaren should you choose to go that route.

And who were you to turn that down?

A team principal of a Formula 1 team wanted to sign you. Was it unfortunate that it was Daniel’s seat? Yes, obviously this situation was less than ideal, but he wanted out. You were convinced he wanted out, that he was done with McLaren. A 45 minute conversation with Zak Brown convinced you of that.

You should have been wary when at the end of the conversation he said, “Don’t tell anyone about this, yet. You know how the public can be, let’s just keep this to ourselves for the meantime.”

“But I can talk to Dan, right?” You asked. 

Zak knew you were dating Daniel, it was a little harder to hide that from his team than it was the rest of the world. Maybe that’s why hesitated before answering, knowing that keeping a secret, something as big as this, from a partner had the potential to cause chaos.

But he shook his head, “Between us, yeah?”

And you listened to him. You wanted that Formula 1 seat so of course you followed orders. 

You desperately wanted to talk to Daniel about it, but you knew you couldn’t. And either he sensed that something was off, or he was dealing with his own problems again and wouldn’t share, you really couldn’t tell when the summer break started and things just seemed…different. 

You didn’t go to Monaco for starters, even though Daniel invited you to. But there were so many meetings with Zak and the board at McLaren that it made more sense for you to stay in London for the start of the break. 

Daniel didn’t call as often and you wanted to give him space, knowing that this break was probably needed for him. You expected he was out with friends, letting loose, getting the weight of a horrible season off his back even if just temporarily. 

The plan was to go to Monaco for the last week and a half and then travel to Belgium together. You had to delay that plan, however, when Zak called you and said it was official.

The 2023 seat was yours. 

You wanted to celebrate, with Daniel, but how could you celebrate with the person you were replacing?

It was strange that Daniel had said nothing to you about leaving the team during the summer break, especially since Zak had said time and time again they were on the same page, that Daniel was ready to leave. The only thing that crossed your mind was he was given strict instructions to not say anything to anyone either, at least until McLaren went public with the news. 

But with it being official, with you having just signed on the dotted line, you were tired of keeping it to yourself. You may not have been able to share the news with anyone else, but you had a right to have a conversation with Daniel about it.

You didn’t know how he would react. Surely he’d be happy for you, right? You were getting a seat in Formula 1, something that both of you desperately wanted to happen. And again, you were under the impression the departure from McLaren was mutual. He would be happy that someone he loved was taking his seat, right?

Right?

You had to tell yourself that the entire ride over to his place. You unlocked the front door to his building and took the elevator up to the fourth level. You didn’t think to knock, knowing he never locked it when he was home so you pushed open the door and stepped in, your suitcase trailing behind you.

You were happy to see him. He was always a breath of fresh air, despite the odd distance between you, you still loved him. You always would. He muted whatever was playing on the screen and stood up from the couch when he heard you walk in.

Usually, Daniel would greet you with a kiss.

Usually, he’d be smiling so hard his jaw would be hurting.

Usually, he was happy to see you.

You left the suitcase by the door and met him halfway, only he stopped walking when there was about a foot of space between your bodies. To you, it felt like you were still miles apart.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest. 

Your heart sank. 

You had convinced yourself, Zak had convinced you, the whole back of house team had convinced you, that Daniel was aware of this upcoming change. That the termination was mutual. You taking his seat might have been a surprise, but it was never supposed to be a blindside.

“What do you know?” you asked. 

“What do you know?” Daniel repeated the question back to you.

You were both fully aware of the exact same information. Daniel was leaving. You were taking his seat. Only, you had been informed this much earlier than he had.

“What was I supposed to do?” 

“Not take the seat,” he scoffed. “My god, I mean, they’re cutting my contract early, Y/N. For you.”

“For the sake of the team,” you said and then added, “You don’t even like McLaren. You’ve struggled with this team since day one.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to stop racing.”

“McLaren is not the team for you and you know this.”

Daniel scoffed, eyebrows twitching, “Did Zak tell you to say that?”

“Zak-” you started, finding it difficult to hold his stare. This wasn’t the Daniel you knew. “-he doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to talk to you or anyone about it, not until your announcement comes out.”

He rubbed his hands over his face, taking a few steps away from you. It hurt, watching as he tried to physically distance himself from you. Like being in too close of proximity would set him off.

“I struggled with the team, yes, but I’m not ready to give up racing. You have now left me without a seat.”

It was easy for Daniel to blame you, you were standing right in front of him. You were quite literally the driver set to replace him.

But the real villain was Zak, for not having opened up this line of communication earlier. For making you believe everyone was on the same page. It was Zak’s fault for rushing to end the contract with Daniel instead of putting in the effort to work with him. He saw the shiny new toy that was you, that Daniel helped create, and he wasn’t going to let someone else take it first.

Daniel wanted to blame himself too, but he wouldn’t let himself think about that until much later. He was the one who did everything he could to help you grow in this sport. He was the one who introduced you to Zak and the rest of the McLaren team. He was the one who got you in the car for the practice sessions, his car. Foreshadowing at its finest.

“You are unbelievable,” Daniel spoke quietly, heated with anger but his words were like ice as they sunk deep into you. “After everything I’ve done to help you for you to betray me like this, I just- I don’t think-”

You knew where this was going and you wanted to put a pin in it before he could finish any of his thoughts.

“Don’t finish that sentence, Daniel,” you whispered. “Please. Please, we can figure something out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” his mind was made up. “You took my seat.”

“Wouldn’t you rather it me than someone you don’t know? Someone you don’t trust?” You tried to turn this around, have him look at the positives, if there were any. “Daniel, everyone on the grid loves you, you’ll find a new team. One that helps you grow and get to where you want. McLaren isn’t that, we both know it.”

“I think you should go,” was his only response. 

“If I hadn’t signed that contact, someone else would have,” you pointed out, grasping at straws here, painfully honest straws, but straws nonetheless. “Piastri, O’Ward…McLaren had options, Dan. Aren’t you at least happy for me that I out-qualified all of those guys?”

Daniel actually laughed, “You want me to be happy for you? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Dan-”

“Leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“You need to,” he was stern. He was angry. He was done. With you, with the team, with everything he used to love and cherish. He was done. 

You thought you knew Daniel. You thought you knew how this conversation would play out. You figured it would still be rocky, but god you now realised how naive you were to believe you could still make things work. 

“I love you,” you told him, because what else could you say except remind him that you were so hopelessly in love with him, that he was all you would ever want in life. 

Except, that wasn’t exactly true, was it?

You wanted a seat in Formula 1 too. You just never thought you’d have to sacrifice one dream for the other. 

Daniel’s stare was cold. He only looked away for a second to nod his head towards the door behind you, “If you loved me, you wouldn’t have done this.”

You stepped forward, desperate at this point because how could he do this? How could he throw away what you had, over a seat?

Or was it you, who had ultimately thrown away what you had when you sat down with Zak Brown all those weeks ago?

It pained you to think about the strong possibility of that being the case.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because you were. You were sorry about how this turned out, how he was betrayed, how this was coming to an end. You grabbed hold of your suitcase and nodded, backing up towards the door, “I really am sorry, Dan.”

He didn’t believe you. Why would he? In his eyes, Formula 1 was more important to you than he was. A career decision that benefited you, but ruined him, mattered more than your relationship. It was a bold move, a cold move, one that you didn’t think would lead to this.

Neither of you could have predicted this. On September 3rd, 2020, when Daniel first said he wanted to work with you, neither of you thought it would end like this.

Just as you grabbed the handle of the door, Daniel opened his mouth, wanting to get the final word in. And you really wished he hadn’t because those final words destroyed you. 

“I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, but I never thought you would turn out to be one of them.”

You said nothing. You walked out of that Monaco flat with your head low and your heart even lower. You couldn’t even be excited about the next season, or the remainder of this one where you had the potential to finish in the top three. 

You weren't happy, you were empty, you were defeated. And painfully so, you were also still in love.

Despite what was said, you knew it would take a while to get over Daniel. He was your rock for so long, he was always there for you and even though he could disappear without so much as a second thought, your feelings couldn’t, the memories couldn’t. It would take a long time until you felt whole again.

You didn’t know it yet, but the decision to take that McLaren seat would haunt you as you moved forward in your career. 

This was not going to be the last time you ever saw Daniel. 

stay tuned for part 2