#I’m still traveling but managed to do these on the plane

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.1

Chapter One: Hide Your Heart From Sight

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Celebrities, Starstruck,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Welcome to this disaster of a fic that I have constantly daydreamed about. Logistically, yes, it is so improbable and unrealistic— but there’s a 0.001% chance that it could happen… to you. It’s nice to wonder and dream. I like wondering. Granted, I’ve never worked in production ever… I am studying advertising and arts soooo that’s as much knowledge I have tehe. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

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The hum of the plane’s engines filled the air as you settled into your seat, trying not to fidget. You glanced at your boarding pass again, as if to double-check you weren’t hallucinating. Seat 3B—business class. Marvel had spared no expense for the production team’s travel, but you still couldn’t quite believe you’d be flying so comfortably.

What shocked you even more, though, was the man lowering himself into the seat next to yours: Pedro Pascal. Yes, that Pedro Pascal. The man whose movies you’d watched obsessively before joining this production, the actor who somehow seemed both unattainably larger-than-life and heartbreakingly down-to-earth.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Looks like we’re seatmates.”

You froze for a moment, then managed a weak, “Hi.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

“You’re with the crew, right?” Pedro asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered, “I’m just a production assistant. It’s my first big project.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome,” he said, genuinely sounding impressed. “First time working on a Marvel movie? How’s it going so far?”

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, relaxing slightly under his easygoing demeanor. “I mean, it’s been amazing, but also kind of overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and everyone’s so talented. I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“I get it,” Pedro said, nodding. “First big gig can be a lot. But hey, you’re here. That means someone saw something in you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Pedro asked you about your favorite movies, your hobbies, and how you’d gotten into production work. You told him about your love for art direction and set design, your dream of one day being a production designer, and your side passion for writing and music. When you mentioned you played guitar and sang, he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to play something for us on set sometime,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied, his tone light but mischievous.

By the time the plane landed, you were buzzing—partly from the conversation and partly from the fact that you’d just spent hours talking to Pedro Pascal as if he were an old friend.

The buzz quickly faded when you arrived at the hotel. You stood in the lobby with the rest of the crew, listening as the location manager, Duncan, argued with the front desk staff. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up with the bookings. The hotel was overbooked due to a telecommunications conference, and somehow, you’d been assigned to share a suite… with Pedro Pascal.

“This has to be a mistake,” you muttered to yourself, your anxiety spiking as Duncan tried to sort things out. But no matter how much back-and-forth there was, the conclusion remained the same: there were no other rooms available.

“Look,” Pedro said finally, stepping in with his usual calm demeanor. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing if she’s okay with it.”

You blinked up at him, your mind racing. “I…”

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing your hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but steady. “Look at me. I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Duncan, who looked as stressed as you felt. Finally, you nodded. “I’m fine with it if everyone else is.”

“Great,” Pedro said, flashing you a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.”

Duncan pulled you aside before you headed to the elevators. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his tone fatherly.

“Yes,” you said, forcing a smile. “Is there any kind of form I need to sign, or…?”

“No, it all falls under the NDA from your employment,” he assured you. “But seriously, if you need anything, just text me.”

You thanked him and joined Pedro in the elevator. The ride up to the suite was silent, save for the soft dinging of the floors passing by. When you finally stepped into the room, you couldn’t help but gape. It was a spacious suite with two bedrooms on opposite sides, a small kitchenette, and a cozy living area.

“This isn’t so bad,” Pedro said, dropping his bag by the door. He turned to you, his expression kind. “Do you have a preference for which room?”

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag. “Um, no, you can pick.”

“Ladies’ choice,” he insisted, his tone playful.

“Okay,” you said, gesturing to the room on the right. “I’ll take that one.”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

As you unpacked in your room, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You were sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal. For at least a week. And somehow, you had to act like a normal, functioning human being the entire time.

You took a deep breath and flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting out a huff of air in disbelief, you muttered to yourself, “This has to be some sort of dream… or prank, right?”

Placing both hands over your face, you rubbed it in exasperation. “Get your shit together, girl. No screwing things up, no more internal freakouts. He’s a person, like you. Mhm, sure. Yup. Totally fine.”

You sighed deeply, trying to convince yourself of your own words. The suite was spacious and nicely furnished, with plenty of room to keep your distance—but that didn’t stop your overactive imagination from running wild. Every interaction felt loaded with the possibility of embarrassing yourself, but you swore you’d keep it together.

To say people around the production crew had heard about your new roomie was an understatement.

The day before shooting began, you attended a pre-production meeting that covered everything: call sheet details, blocking and camera movement, technical requirements, and a bunch of safety protocols. It was standard procedure but felt ten times more overwhelming knowing your friends would tease you mercilessly.

You sat with your friends from the art department, trying to focus, but they weren’t making it easy. Archie, one of the lead set designers, leaned over with a smirk. “So, how’s life as Pedro Pascal’s roomie?”

You felt your face heat up instantly. “I—it’s not… it’s just temporary,” you stammered, fiddling with the edge of your notebook.

Stephanie, a costume designer with an endless supply of sass, raised an eyebrow. “Temporary or not, it’s the stuff of rom-coms, babe. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined a meet-cute scenario in that suite.”

“I have not!” you protested, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you. 

Will, an art director with a love for stirring the pot, chuckled. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little… serendipitous? You, a huge fan, sharing a suite with the guy? Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s not fate,” you insisted, trying to deflect. “It’s a logistical mistake, that’s all.”

Max, the trainee set dresser, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, but a logistical mistake that’s got everyone talking. Even Steve heard about it, and he’s usually the last to know anything.”

Steve, the lighting technician, shrugged. “What can I say? Word travels fast. I’m just here to see how long it takes for Pedro to find out about your… fandom.”

“Oh my god, can we not?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

Rebecca, a fellow production assistant and one of your closest friends, patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he seems like the kind of guy who’d find it endearing. Besides, you’ve been professional so far, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t said anything stupid yet.”

“Yet being the keyword,” Sophie teased, earning a laugh from the group.

Patricia, always the voice of reason, smiled warmly. “Just be yourself. You’re great at your job, and Pedro’s just another actor. A very charming actor, sure, but still just a person.”

“Thanks, Patricia,” you said, feeling slightly more grounded. But the anxiety still lingered, especially with everyone’s teasing reminders of your not-so-secret crush.

As the meeting wrapped up and you headed back to your tasks, you couldn’t shake the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal might’ve been a logistical mistake, but it was quickly turning into one of the most unreal experiences of your life.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL, LONDON — NIGHT

Dinner with the cast and crew had been lively, filled with laughter, and far too many knowing glances sent your way by your friends. The teasing hadn’t stopped, even over plates of pasta and glasses of wine.

Archie had leaned over at one point, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when Pedro walks out of the bathroom shirtless? Swoon or faint?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Archie!”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a valid question.”

Stephanie smirked. “She’s probably rehearsing her ‘I’m totally cool and unaffected’ face right now.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Rebecca grinned. “No, you don’t. But seriously, just enjoy the moment. How many people can say they’ve shared a hotel room with Pedro Pascal?”

By the time the group had wandered back to the shuttle, your cheeks were sore from laughing, and your nerves were only slightly calmed. But as the cold London air nipped at your skin, you found yourself longing for the warmth of the hotel.

Your teeth chattered as you stepped off the shuttle, clutching your coat tighter around you. You didn’t like the cold very much, and London was very, very cold.

The moment you entered the hotel lobby, the warmth began to seep into your body, and you let out a sigh of relief. The elevator ride to your floor was quiet, your mind finally shutting down after a long evening of socializing. By the time you reached your room, you were operating on autopilot.

Tapping your keycard to the door, you quietly pushed it open, careful not to disturb Pedro if he was already asleep. It was just past 9:30 p.m., and you knew the early call time tomorrow would have him resting early.

You shut the door softly behind you, locking the deadbolt before shuffling into the room. You removed your coat, scarf, and shoes, swapping them for the fuzzy slippers you’d packed. The room was dimly lit, and you moved quietly, hoping not to make too much noise.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching your chest as your heart tried to escape it. Whipping around, you found Pedro lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands and a soft, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was wearing a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, his square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked entirely too comfortable—like he belonged there. Like this was normal.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you were still awake,” you said, voice breathless as you tried to recover from the scare.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You were so quiet coming in, I thought maybe you were sneaking around.”

You set your things on the small table by the door, giving him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He tilted his head, watching you with that relaxed air that somehow made you feel completely exposed. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you said, shrugging as you moved toward the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. “Everyone was in high spirits, and the food was great. We took a little walk around the city before heading back.”

Pedro closed his book, setting it on the coffee table. “Sounds nice. London at night can be magical.”

“Yeah, it was.” You paused, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Though, I think I underestimated just how cold it gets here. My teeth were chattering the whole way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “Didn’t bring a warm enough coat?”

“I thought I did, but apparently not. I’m not built for this kind of weather,” you admitted with a laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to stave off the lingering chill.

Pedro stood, crossing the room with an easy grace that made your breath hitch. “Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we?” He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and held it out to you. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just get cold really easily. Besides, I’ll warm up eventually.”

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not a big deal.”

Reluctantly, you took the blanket, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. It sent a jolt of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fabric now wrapped around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back to give you space but still watching you with that disarmingly kind expression.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “Much. Thanks, Pedro.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging there. But then he broke the silence, his voice light. “So, did they give you a hard time at dinner?”

Your face heated instantly. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “I heard some of the cast talking earlier. Apparently, your friends in the art department have been… teasing you about the room situation.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh no. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing incriminating,” he said with a laugh. “Just that they’re convinced this is some kind of meet-cute scenario straight out of a rom-com.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, mortified. “I’m so sorry. They’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, his tone easy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Your hands dropped to your sides, your eyes wide. “Flattering?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice to know someone thinks sharing a room with me is worth all that excitement.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process the fact that Pedro Pascal—Pedro Pascal—was standing in front of you, teasing you in the most charming way possible.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big day.”

He gave you one last smile before retreating to his side of the suite, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a head full of thoughts you were too scared to unpack.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY  

You woke to the soft chime of your alarm, the faint glow of early morning light creeping through the curtains. Shuffling into the bathroom with a yawn, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water coax you into wakefulness. You placed your phone on the counter, tapping on a playlist to fill the small space with soft, melodic tunes—comforting background noise that kept your mind from spiraling too early in the day.  

After your shower, you toweled off and began your morning routine. Skincare applied with practiced ease, makeup brushed on with care, you avoided the mirror for too long, focusing instead on the growing anticipation of the day ahead. Pinning your ID to your lanyard, you glanced at your phone again.  

The group chat with your team was buzzing:  

Archie: "We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t keep us waiting, queen 👑."  

Rebecca: "Text when you’re coming down!"  

Max: "Coffee run? Pls? 🙏"  

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped out a quick reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before you switched apps.  

Your heart did a little stutter as you opened your browser—a Joel Miller fanfic you’d been obsessing over still lingering on your screen. You skimmed the most recent chapter, your thumb pausing to scroll as you half-laughed at the absurdity of sneaking in a few paragraphs before a full day on set. You switched to the chat thread with your online friends, who were deep in a heated discussion about whether Joel would be the type to cook breakfast for his partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing in a quick, “He’d definitely make pancakes and act like it’s no big deal,” before locking your phone and setting it on the counter.  

Moving on autopilot, you padded into the small kitchenette, barefoot and still humming softly to the tune stuck in your head. You set the coffee machine to brew, pulling out a couple of mugs, a jar of Nutella, and some bread. Your hands moved with muscle memory, spreading the hazelnut spread on toast and slicing up a handful of fruit without a second thought. It wasn’t until the scent of coffee filled the air that you realized you’d made two plates of toast—one for you and one for Pedro.  

The realization struck at the same moment you heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you.  

“Morning.”  

His voice was low and warm, still carrying the huskiness of sleep. You froze, phone in one hand, butter knife in the other, as you turned to see Pedro leaning against the doorframe. His hair was adorably tousled, and he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly put together. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, and you nearly dropped your phone in a panic.  

“Good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you fumbled to lock your screen. The thought of him catching even a glimpse of what you’d been reading was enough to make your cheeks burn.  

Pedro glanced at the counter, taking in the toast, coffee, and neatly sliced fruit. “You made breakfast?”  

“Oh, uh—yeah.” You set your phone down and gestured awkwardly toward the spread. “I made you some coffee and toast with Nutella. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that, and there’s fruit, too. I was just about to cut some more, but obviously, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, and—”  

“Hey.” Pedro’s soft chuckle cut through your rambling, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”  

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in his voice. “Oh. Yeah. No problem. It’s nothing, really.”  

He moved past you to grab a mug of coffee, the proximity sending your pulse into overdrive. As he poured himself a cup, you noticed his shoulders relaxed and his movements unhurried. He took a sip and let out a small, contented sigh.  

“Perfect,” he said, glancing over at you with a grin. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”  

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as spoiling. It’s just toast.”  

“Yeah, but it’s good toast,” he teased, holding up a slice as if to emphasize his point.  

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing slightly. The moment felt impossibly domestic—like a scene out of one of those fanfics you’d been reading. Only this time, it wasn’t Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with you. It was Pedro.  

And that was somehow even more surreal.  

Pedro leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in both hands. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. “So,” he started, his voice warm and casual, “what were you so engrossed in on your phone earlier? You looked ready to throw it out the window when I walked in.”  

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it cool, even though you were fairly certain your face was now several shades of red. “Oh, nothing,” you lied, brushing a crumb off the counter. “Just the group chat. You know how chaotic they are.”  

Pedro tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mm-hmm. Sure it wasn’t something more... intriguing?”  

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “Intriguing?”  

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”  

“It’s nothing!” you blurted out, a little too defensively. “Just—just boring stuff. Work stuff.”  

“Work stuff,” he repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because people laugh at boring work stuff while making toast.”  

You groaned, setting your mug down as you ran a hand over your face. “Can we not? Please? I’m already mortified enough.”  

Pedro chuckled, the sound low and teasing but not unkind. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go... for now.” He set his mug on the counter and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you owe me a story later. Deal?”  

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Depends on how much coffee you’ve had by then. I might need you slightly less smug for that conversation.”  

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, just enough to make your heart stutter. “Smug? I prefer charming. But I’ll take it under advisement.”  

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter made the room feel lighter, warmer.  

By the time you both finished your coffee, the atmosphere had shifted into something comfortable and easy. You quickly rinsed the dishes, your hands moving on autopilot as Pedro lingered nearby, chatting about everything and nothing.  

As you dried your hands, your phone buzzed on the counter, and you glanced at the screen.  

Rebecca: “Bus is almost there. Better get your cute butt down here!”  

You shot back a quick reply: “On my way.” Turning to Pedro, you grabbed your bag and gestured toward the door. “I’ve got to head down. My shuttle’s waiting.”  

Pedro grabbed his own bag and trailed after you. “I’ll walk down with you. I’ve got my own ride coming, but they’re always late.”  

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the hum of its descent filling the silence. The confined space suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken tension.  

Pedro stood close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you pressed the strap of your bag tighter against your shoulder, hoping it would anchor you somehow.  

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate in the stillness of the elevator. “What’s the plan for today?”  

You glanced at him, his brown eyes watching you closely, the curve of his smile softer now. “Same as usual, I guess,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Make sure everything runs smoothly while you and everyone else look good on camera.”  

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You make it sound so simple, but I know you’re the one holding it all together.”  

His words caught you off guard, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I just do my job.”  

“And you do it damn well,” he said, his tone sincere now, no teasing edge in sight.  

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, breaking the moment. Pedro gestured for you to step out first, and you did, your pulse still racing.  

“Thanks,” you murmured, not entirely sure if you were thanking him for his compliment or just for letting you escape the charged space of the elevator.  

As you spotted your shuttle waiting outside, you turned to him, suddenly aware of how reluctant you were to leave. “I’ll see you on set?”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer than necessary. “Yeah. See you soon.”  

You stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your face as you walked toward the shuttle. But even as you climbed aboard and found a seat, your mind was still back in that elevator, replaying every glance, every word, every spark.

End Notes:

Oh hi! I missed doing these silly bits; I thought to bring ‘em back. But, don’t worry, I’ll try to yap less haha

Yes, it’s super cliche, cheesy, unrealistic, and practically a hallmark movie in the making. But that’s the fun part in fanfiction and writing, it’s all made up and no one here is allowed to “yuck” each other’s “yum” if you know what I mean. ;)

Also, I have no idea how production for film works so I’m researching stuff and making stuff up along the way pls no one come after me T^T

Weirdly enough, I saw a reddit post from someone who works at the front of the hotel desk and they say the one-bed trope/one-room trope; it actually happens pretty frequently lol so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca

[secretlittlerandezvous]

First Getaway - Arber Xhekaj

Summary: Arber and Y/n go on their first trip together.

Words: 844

Arber wasn’t exactly an experienced traveler. Y/n knew that going into this trip, but she hadn’t anticipated just how amusing it would be. When she suggested a weekend getaway to Banff which was a mix of cozy cabin vibes and outdoor adventures Arber had enthusiastically agreed. His version of preparation, however, didn’t meet Y/n’s standards.

The night before their flight, Y/N peeked into his duffle bag and raised an eyebrow. “Arber, do you even know where your toothbrush is?”

“It’s in there… somewhere,” he said, flashing her his boyish grin. The same one that usually got him out of trouble. “I think.” He said to himself.

She sighed dramatically before fishing through the bag. “Right, and I’m sure this single hockey sock and… is this a pack of instant noodles? These are your essentials?”

“I like to be prepared,” he said with a shrug, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

The airport was its own circus. Arber insisted on carrying both their bags, determined to play the role of a gentleman. But his massive frame and her oversized carry on made navigating the tight spaces an ordeal.

“Excuse me, sorry, coming through,” he mumbled as he bumped into nearly every person on the plane. Y/n trailed behind him, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing.

“I’m too big for this plane,” he muttered once they finally reached their seats.

“Or you’re just clumsy,” Y/n teased, sliding into the window seat.

“Probably both,” he admitted, nudging her knee with his as he settled in.

By the time they landed and drove up to their cabin in Banff, the scenery took their breath away. Snow covered mountains surrounded them, and the small log cabin, nestled between towering pine trees, looked like something out of a winter postcard.

“This is… wow,” Arber said, stepping out of the car. His hands rested on his hips as he took it all in. “You outdid yourself, Y/n.”

“I know,” she teased, grabbing her bag. “Now come help me unpack.”

Inside the cabin, Arber’s excitement quickly turned into chaos. He couldn’t figure out how to start the fireplace, leading to a heated debate (and lots of laughter) as they both struggled with logs and matches.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Arber asked, holding the matchstick like it was a stick of dynamite.

“Positive,” Y/n replied. “If you don’t burn the cabin down.”

Eventually, they managed to get the fire going, and the warm glow filled the room. Arber sprawled out on the couch, looking smug.

“See? Told you I’d figure it out,” he said.

“After, like, ten tries,” Y/n shot back, tossing a pillow at him.

The next morning, they decided to go for a hike. Y/N had picked an easy trail with scenic views, but Arber still turned it into a competition.

“Bet I can beat you to that rock up there,” he said, already jogging ahead.

“Arber!” Y/n called after him. “It’s not a race!”

“It is now!” he yelled back, laughing.

Halfway up the trail, the competition shifted to a snowball fight. Y/n managed to hit Arber in the chest with her first throw, and he dramatically stumbled backward like he’d been wounded.

“You got me,” he groaned, sinking to his knees.

“Stop being so dramatic!” Y/n laughed, grabbing another handful of snow.

As soon as she turned her back, Arber launched a perfectly aimed snowball at her, hitting her in the back.

“Hey!” she yelped, spinning around.

“Just getting my revenge,” he said, grinning as he backed away slowly.

By the time they made it back to the cabin, both of them were soaked and exhausted. They spent the rest of the day cozied up by the fire, sipping hot chocolate and playing card games. Arber insisted he didn’t know the rules to most of the games, but Y/n quickly caught onto his strategy of making up rules as he went to win.

“Arber, you can’t just declare yourself the winner because you have the biggest hand!” she said, laughing as he spread his cards out.

“Why not?” he teased. “I think it’s a solid rule.”

That evening, they cooked dinner together or at least tried to. Arber was in charge of chopping vegetables, but his knife skills were basically nonexistent.

“Arber, that carrot is supposed to be in slices, not… whatever this is,” Y/n said, holding up a messed up chunk.

“It’s abstract,” he said. “I’m an artist.”

Despite the chaos, they managed to put together a surprisingly good meal. They ate by candlelight, sharing stories and laughter until Y/n couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled so much.

As the night wound down, Y/n leaned into Arber’s side by the fireplace, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I think this might be my favorite trip ever,” she admitted softly.

Arber kissed the top of her head, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something softer. “Yeah? Just wait till our next one. I’ll even remember a toothbrush.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

[zsbrainrot]

Happy Buddy Daddies Friday! Rei smiling will always be one of my favorite things to draw

[igotfatter]

Sorry to hear that your ex was so rude to you. But I have to admit, hearing about how in denial he was about his weight sounds super sexy. Do you know how heavy he got in the end? How did his weight effect the things you could/couldn’t do on a day to day basis?

The last I know his heaviest was 530 pounds. At 6’4”, he carried it relatively well, but it still impacted daily life. During the pandemic we lived full-time together and after I would spend two weeks in New York City, and two weeks with him At our place outside the city. When he visited me in New York, he went from being able to walk down the block with me to getting completely winded just reaching the street. He was in denial, blaming my fast walking, but even in the low 400s, he could outpace me. (Hot story about this) By the end, he barely left the house except for work and almost outgrew his car, exactly like Rasputia in Norbit blaming the weather one time. Physical intimacy became nonexistent, and he started needing extra help at work after breaking chairs. He outgrew our furniture and couldn’t manage hygiene or clean up after himself, often leaving plates and wrappers around. It was hard to watch him struggle, especially since he refused to acknowledge how much his weight was affecting him.

We traveled a lot and of course he could only travel if I was next to him, we would get business class or first class seats on long-haul flights and he wouldn’t be able to do the tray table and I would have to hold both of our plates of food on the plane. I’m sure there’s more. I know he couldn’t use the plane bathroom and had to pee in the sink. at a relatives house he physically was too big to use the toilet so I would have to like assist him in going pee in secret. this might be TMI for tumblr but when he would pee towards the end the floor would have a mess (he sat to pee) and  he physically like could not find his junk to pee in the right spot. But all of this was complete denial. I don’t know how else to explain it but I just never understood how people got to 800 pounds without wanting to be 800 pounds until I met him.

(He’s around mid to low 400’s here)

[rafecameronssl4t]

Do Sarah and Wheezie get along with reader in the arranged/forced marriage au? It seems like they’re constantly going to dinners and events for readers family; does she ever hang with the Cameron’s? Is Rose a better mother figure to her than her own?

With the Cameron’s || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I hope this gives you better insight into reader’s relationship with Rafe’s family plus bonus lil snippet of what Rafe is like during the pregnancy (will go more in depth in another fic)

Warnings: none really (not proofread)

Word count: 1,550

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

"Are we running late? What if the plane leaves without us—" Wheezie’s voice quickly gets cut off by Rafe’s sharp tone, his irritation palpable. "Can you shut up for one second?" he snaps, huffing in frustration. His fingers press against his temples as if the very sound of her voice is grating on him.

The sharpness in his words makes you wince slightly, but when your eyes meet Sarah's across the seat, a faint smile tugs at your lips. Rafe’s temper wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore. "It’s our private jet, Wheezie," he continues, his voice now dropping to a bored drawl as he looks out the window, his hand settling possessively on your thigh, squeezing it as the runway comes into view.

"They're not going anywhere without us." You shift slightly under his touch, not used to these fleeting moments of affection in front of the Cameron's, but you say nothing. It’s a part of your dynamic now—Rafe’s firm grip on control, always balancing on a fine line between caring and detached. Rose, sitting in front, turns around, concern flashing in her eyes.

"Is it safe for you to travel, Y/n?" Her voice is soft, almost maternal, a stark contrast to your own mother. You manage a small smile, trying to ease her worries. "Yeah, perfectly fine. I checked in with our doctors." Your tone is calm, almost rehearsed, as if you’ve had to explain this more times than you can count. Rose nods, satisfied, and returns her attention to her phone.

As the car slows down, Wheezie’s eyes widen when she finally sees the jet, her loud gasp shifting everyone's attention. "Woah," she breathes, her face lighting up in awe at the sight of the sleek aircraft, the one your grandparents had gifted you after the wedding. "Pretty nice, huh?" you tease, nudging her lightly. Her excitement was always contagious, and like always, you let yourself enjoy it.

"Your first time flying private?" you ask, winking at her as she nods vigorously, still mesmerised by the plane. The car rolls to a stop, and Rafe is the first to get out, his movements confident and deliberate. Without a word, he turns back toward you, offering his hand. Gratefully, you take it, carefully stepping out, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin.

Your eyes sweep across the aircraft, its polished surface glinting in the sunlight as you feel Rafe wrap your shawl around your shoulders. Your eyes scan the jet, taking in its sleek lines and pristine exterior. It’s a symbol of the life you’ve been thrust into—luxurious, yes, but hollow in so many ways.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, a pleasure to see you again," Anthony, the pilot, greets both of you, extending his hand to Rafe’s first, then yours for a firm handshake. "Good to see you too, Anthony," you reply politely, flashing a smile that feels more natural now. While Rafe and the pilot exchange words about flight plans and weather conditions, you glance back at Sarah, who is still staring at the plane in disbelief.

"I can’t believe I’m about to fly on a private jet," Sarah murmurs, almost to herself. You chuckle softly, catching her wide-eyed expression. "You better believe it, Sarah," you say, the humour in your voice masking the exhaustion underneath. It was a strange life—one you still weren’t fully used to—but moments like these reminded you how surreal it could all be.

You step closer to where Rafe and Anthony stand, their conversation coming to a halt as you approach. "Is everything as it should be?" you ask, your gaze flicking between them. Rafe shifts slightly, turning toward you, while Anthony’s face brightens with a warm, professional smile. "Yes, everything is set," Anthony replies, his voice reassuring.

"The flight to New York should be only around an hour and a half." His smile deepens, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with a sense of familiarity. You nod in acknowledgment, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your belly. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Anthony, who follows your gesture. "How many weeks are you now?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of small details, suddenly unsure. "Oh, uh—34 weeks now?" you reply, though your tone carries a hint of uncertainty. You turn to Rafe for confirmation, and he's already watching you, that rare, softer expression gracing his usually unreadable face. "35 tomorrow, actually," Rafe corrects, his voice gentle as he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

The motion feels natural, almost instinctive, though there's still a flicker of surprise at how he’s been acting since you've been pregnant. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, almost absentmindedly, as if his hand belonged there. It’s a small gesture, but it lingers, and for a moment, you can’t help but feel a sense of unfamiliar warmth in his touch.

He looks back at Anthony, who nods knowingly. "You're in good hands," Anthony says with a wink, glancing between the two of you before excusing himself to check the final details for the flight. You stay pressed to Rafe’s side for a moment longer than usual, the warmth of his touch and the gentle smile he’d given you lingering. As you follow Rafe up the steps of the plane, his hand reaches back toward you, a silent gesture that feels automatic.

You pause for a moment, looking at his extended hand, then slide yours into it. His grip tightens, pulling you up the stairs with a familiarity that’s still strange to you despite how long it’s been. His attention is already elsewhere, but there’s something steady in the way he holds on. The second you step inside, Wheezie lets out a gasp, her eyes wide as she takes in the lavish interior. "Oh my god," she whispers, her voice filled with awe.

Sarah, beside her, shares the same shocked expression, her mouth slightly agape as she slowly looks around. Rose, ever composed, gracefully accepts a flute of champagne handed to her by the flight attendant, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she takes a seat on one of the plush leather chairs. "I could get used to this," she says with a contented hum, easing herself into one of the leather seats as she crosses her legs, holding the glass delicately.

"You know, Rose, you can use my jet whenever you want," you say, settling into the seat across from her. There’s a familiar warmth in your voice because with Rose, you didn’t have to hold back as much. She’d seen you at your best and your worst, and over time, a genuine bond had grown between you two. "You're family," you add with a small smile.

Your words are warm, genuine, and for a moment, you feel a small sense of pride in being able to extend such a gesture. It was your grandparents’ gift, after all, but now it felt like another small piece of the life you were slowly building alongside Rafe, complicated as it was. Rose glances up at you, her lips curving into a fond smile. "Thank you, Y/n. That's really sweet of you, darling."

She lifts her champagne glass slightly in a subtle toast of appreciation. Between Rose and Ward, you had always preferred Rose. You return her smile, her eyes sparkling with the kind of closeness that comes with shared secrets and long afternoons together. There was an ease with her that you didn’t find in Ward's scrutinising gaze.

The two of you had even started forming your own little rituals—getting your hair and nails done together, sharing gossip that never left the salon. In a family where appearances were everything, it was a quiet comfort to have someone you could let your guard down with, even just a little. Rose had been the one who welcomed you the most. From the outside, she appeared cool and distant, but you knew better.

Rose raises her glass slightly in a toast. "Here’s to us," she says, her tone light and affectionate. You chuckle softly, lifting an imaginary glass in response. "To us," you echo, feeling a familiar sense of comfort in her presence. Rose had become more of a mother figure to you than anything else, a relationship that had blossomed in the shadows of family expectations and high society obligations.

She offered you the warmth and guidance your own mother never quite gave, filling the void with her quiet support and understanding. Rose had a way of making you feel seen in a world that often demanded you play a role. With her, it wasn’t about maintaining facades or living up to expectations—it was about the genuine bond you had formed through shared experiences and mutual respect.

There were times you confided in her—about your uncertainties with Rafe, about the overwhelming pressure of impending motherhood—and she always listened, offering advice that felt sincere rather than patronising. She knew the world you had been thrust into, had navigated it herself long before you, and in her own way, she helped you find your footing.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

[morganaawriterr]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ You don’t have to say it back;

Pairing; fem!reader, long-distance boyfriend!Ni-ki Synopsis; For a fleeting moment, it’s just you, Ni-ki, and the beach as he confesses his love for you before leaving for Korea. Genre; A bit fluffy and angsty - (this is very short) Warning; None, just Ni-ki being a cutie pie! My Masterlist;

A/N: This has been sitting in my Notion app for ages (because I don't like it much)!!! Also, I am travelling so I won't be online much, but I won't leave you guys starving!! Here it is, I hope you guys enjoy it, likes and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you!

You love the beach; from the sound of the free waves crashing on the warm sand, to the smell of the salty water that reminds you of your childhood, and the thin, translucent clouds transmitting a calm peace of mind.

“This is beautiful…” you say, staring at the sun setting on the horizon. Shades of blue, grey, and yellow paint the sky like the work of the most skilled artist.

Niki smiles, admiring you. Your eyes glow in the sunlight, reflecting the landscape in your gaze. He can still smell your sweet perfume, and all of that drives him crazy.

“You are beautiful,” he flirts, nibbling his lower lip softly, loving the way you become shy at his compliments.

You turn your face towards him, and when your eyes meet his, it feels like the world has stopped. There is no plane waiting for him, no idol life, no unsupportive family, no beach or sun—just you and him.

“I hate this… I hate you…” you say, looking deeply into his pure hazel eyes. Niki reaches out for your hand and intertwines your thin fingers with his slender ones. You are cold, and he is warm. It’s funny how he is always your source of warmth.

“You don’t,” he grins. There’s something in his smile that makes you start tearing up. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel how genuine he is, or maybe it’s his adorable dimples, or his heart-shaped lips, so pink and inviting.

You break eye contact and pull your hand away from his. Your eyes are now focused on the sun, almost gone. It makes you chuckle. Riki is just like the sun—always slipping through your fingers, abandoning you, and leaving you in hopes that he will return once more.

But the nights are more interminable than ever when he’s gone. The moon is your only company on those lonely nights without him.

“I love you,” Niki confesses out of the blue, his heart beating out of his chest from those three significant words. He knows you are terrified of them, but he wants to be genuine with you.

All the air in your lungs seems to fade away like smoke, and you’re suddenly crying. Your heart shatters into little pieces. It hurts so greatly, knowing he can’t be wholly yours.

“Riki…” you call for him, trying to look him in the eyes, but he dodges your gaze.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Niki says softly, a modest smile on his lips. That’s the moment you realize how honest he is being. He loves you. He wants you. He truly does.

You laugh between tears and force yourself into his strong arms, craving his body heat. He closes his eyes and envelops his arms around you, hugging your frame and savoring your gentle scent.

“I love you too…” you confess, face buried in his neck, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

At that moment, you overhear it. “Niki, it’s time to go,” his manager says, an anxious look on his face. He also wishes it was easier, but there’s nothing he can do.

“I’m going!” Riki replies in a more cheerful voice, utterly drunk in love. You whine when you feel his arms leave you, the warmth disappearing rapidly. You pout, making him giggle.

Riki gets to his feet, wishing time would slow down. You get up too and stand there cutely, staring up at him, waiting for a goodbye kiss. Niki does just what you wanted. His arms wrap around you as your cold lips mold against his. You pull away first, feeling his manager’s gaze burning holes into your head.

Niki smiles at you once again and then smooches your forehead lovingly. With teary eyes, you smile back, hating that this is your reality. When you see Riki for the last time, the sun is already gone. So, you figure it’s time to let go. You wave at him as he climbs inside the van with its thick, opaque windows. His voice, words, smile, and perfume are still fresh in your mind.

As the car drives away, you hug yourself, the raw wind making you shiver. A single tear escapes your eye, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand, a proud smile on your lips despite the sharp pain of goodbye.

From inside the van, as Niki watches you grow smaller and smaller until you disappear, he asks the moon to take care of you.

Taglist: @grandlightcandy @seokseokjinkim @strxwbloody @enhasunghoonishot @contyynishimura @heewanrik @ranwonbin @leanderexists @lovelyyf @youngheejay @crimson-reaper576 @rikifever @mrsjjongstby @laurradoesloveu @babyboomysweetie @mintchocos-things If you wanna be added or removed from the taglist just comment below!

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[propertyofwicked]

sea sick | harry lewis

content warning - mentions of sick and throwing up

short, fluff <3

-

you usually didn’t mind helping the boys with filming. it wasn’t often - only for big videos where the boys split up - and since you were the only girlfriend who wasn’t publicly known, it made it easier to avoid suspicion if you and harry were seen together. it wasn’t a big deal at the end of the day you’d just rather avoid the hassle of having a big online presence.

today, however, made you wonder who you’d pissed off in a past life to deserve this. in hindsight, you should’ve realised that when harry said it was a fishing video that it would involve being on a boat. you’d suffered with bad travel sickness your whole life in cars, boats and planes, so getting on a boat and filming could not have been a worse plan, especially with the hot sun and loud men screaming into the lens. so far, you’d been on the boat for close to an hour, trying to distract yourself from your stomach doing backflips by focusing on filming the boys fishing. as long as you stayed in the centre of the boat you weren’t rocked about too much and it became manageable. but every time you had to move locations, sitting on the side of the boat began to bring your breakfast up to the back of your throat.

as long as you could keep it together for the next hour, no one would suspect that you felt violently sick, and you could maintain some aspect of professionalism. focus on the content, and not the blood draining from your face. and it was going so well.

the boat hit into a wave, sending the boat rocking a little to much for your liking. your response would’ve gone unnoticed had harry not been talking directly into your camera with a direct view of your eyes widening and you swallowing a lump in your throat.

“you ok?” he asked, eyes softening and his voice lowering at the sight of you pale and clearly lost in your own head.

“yeah, don’t worry i was just thinking.” at the end of the day, it was easier to lie - you don’t want to take him away from the video.

“hey, you don’t look great, ill take the camera just sit down for a minute, yeah?” he said, reaching for the camera before you could even respond.

“harry, i promise you im fi-”. suddenly it was all coming up and out of you without a moments notice. thank god he had taken the camera or it would be covered in your breakfast.

he put the camera on the bench and walked behind you, holding the sides of your waist to manoeuvre you to the edge of the boat. you’re hands grabbed the railings and your head stayed over the side, eyes screwed shut. harry’s hands come up to your hair, pulling it back and rubbing small circles on your back until you were done saying goodbye to any food you’d eaten that day.

after wiping you mouth on the back of your hand you turn around and rest your forehead on harry’s chest, tears falling down your cheeks. you didn’t mean to cry, it’s just something that happens when you throw up.

“im sorry i just, i hate boats.”

“don’t apologise. it’s my fault, i knew you got sea sick and i still got you to film for us,” he said, hand on your chin pulling your face up to look at him and using his thumb to wipe away a tear, “don’t cry, it’s ok, you’re ok. i think we’re stopping soon. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault, i could’ve said no - i should’ve said no,” you respond as he presses a kiss to your forehead. at the same time, you hear the sound of someone else being sick, and look over to see tobi sat on the floor.

“oh for fucks sake, not another one,” kon laughs, zooming his camera in on tobi.

[melodyanqel]

Far Away | cj

summary: times have been rough for jongho due to being long-distance from his precious family. so, he receives a surprise.

pairing: idol!husband!father!jongho x non-idol!wife!mother!reader

genre/tags: fluff, idol au, established relationship, married couple, family reunion, aniteez cameo

wc: 1k+ words

a/n: i enjoyed writing this fluff and i hope you luvs enjoy reading it (>⩊<)

Coachella ATEEZ.

The title is unreal to the members, the fans, and everyone else in the world. It’s another mega achievement in the group’s career, making it a golden moment in K-pop history. After months, days, hours, and seconds of their lives, the day has come, ready to bring a show. Most importantly, two secret guests are surprising someone. He doesn’t know that his wife and little girl are traveling out of the country to see him. 

The mother and daughter have made it to the airport. 

“Are you ready to go meet appa, darling?” You asked your beloved angel. She has her small hand holding yours. Choi Juhee, also known as ATEEZ’s princess and ATINY’s baby. A high-spirited two-year-old with the sweetest soul in the world. Juhee can make any stern, cold person melt on the spot because her cuteness is too precious. She has a strong resemblance to her father and it’s a bit uncanny. 

Jongho’s pretty boba eyes, round face, defined nose, and smile. 

Even her uncles believe Juhee is a ”mini Jongho.” 

“Appa? Where?” The baby asked her mother, looking around the area. You laughed softly, “Not here, but we are seeing him.” You tried to have Juhee comprehend that she’ll be with her father soon. Your daughter is still learning to speak and remembering people and places around her. She knows her uncles because she sees them every day. 

While waiting for the plane, you and Juhee sit by the entrance. Your little girl is playing with her JJONGbear plush, while you read the messages from the members, excluding Jongho, on a private group chat.

Joongie: Are you boarding yet? 

You: We haven’t yet 

Wooyo: Jongho has been looking at pictures of you and Juhee throughout the trip

You: Aww. Do you all miss us as well?

Yuyu: Of course!

Sannie: You two make our days better!

Minki: It gets boring without you two

Hwa: Y/N, does Juhee know she is seeing her appa?

You: She does and tried looking for him at the airport lol

Yeo: How cute! I’m excited to carry her and hug you

Reading the adorable and heartwarming messages makes you less anxious because you miss your husband. Jongho’s music career has been evolving as the years go by and the fame did impact his life. He had less time with his family and more about making hits to amaze people. However, you knew what to expect when marrying a celebrity. It’s not something you could control because you adore his hard work and compassion. Despite the idol image, he is still your Jongho. 

It was also Juhee’s first time on a plane. She stares through the window and watches the peach sky with wispy clouds glow on her face. “Omma, looks like ANITEEZ.” Juhee directs you with her tiny finger at the window. You immediately understood what she meant because she is obsessed with her ANITEEZ friends. “Oh, wow! It does look like the sky where they sailed their ship.” You looked at your beautiful child with fondness. 

Approximately eleven hours later, the mother and daughter landed in California. When existing at the terminal, you notice the group’s manager is waiting for you both. You greeted and thanked them because they knew you’d be coming and wanted to help out for Seonghwa’s surprise. 

The gorgeous city is lit up during the dark hours. It creates a magical ambiance that can’t be forgotten. 

As a new day begins, you and Seungah are getting ready to meet up with the guys. You also did your best not to let your husband know you were in the same hotel as him. 

“Omo! You’re so pretty! Are you an angel from heaven?!”

You are dressing up Juhee in a pretty pink dress with her hair in a ponytail with a glittery silver bow. It has become warmer, these days, so it is best to wear lightweight clothing. Juhee just smiles, revealing her growing teeth. Somewhere in the future, she’ll have a lot of people chasing for her. It once occurred to you that Juhee would be a musician like Jongho. But overall, you will support whatever decision she makes that brings her joy. 

“Alright. Let’s see appa and the uncles at the park. Don’t forget baby, we are surprising appa.” You and Juhee are finished getting ready. The outfits are stylish, the makeup is on point, and the hair is nicely done. You also put her JJONGbear in a small backpack. 

Upon sneaking up on Jongho, you and Juhee decide to surprise him from behind. 

The maknae and his hyungs are sitting under the tree having a picnic in a gorgeous park. Hongjoong is the first to see you and Juhee approaching so quietly. The members except for Jongho see them coming in their direction. They remained calm and quiet as possible. 

“While I was practicing, I tried to hold the flag properly during “The Real” performance but the wind–”

“Appa!”

Jongho felt his heart almost jump out of his chest when small arms wrapped around his neck. His eyes widened in shock, as soon as he saw his daughter’s gorgeous face. “Hi, darling.” You nonchalantly greeted your husband with a wave. 

At once, his hyungs burst out laughing and cheered ecstatically. Jongho comes back to earth and brings his baby into his arms. Juhee’s infectious laughter filled the air. Jongho presses a kiss onto her mochi cheek. You then join your little family hug. You placed a kiss on Jongho’s temple. 

“What is all this?!” Jongho is still confused. 

You couldn’t stop smiling at your adorable husband. “A surprise! We all set it up for you because we wanted to cheer you up.” You explained briefly. Jongho’s heart melted. You traveled hours long just to see him. 

He brings a kiss on the lips and the members squealed at the sudden bold maknae. Juhee didn’t notice her parents were sharing a sweet affection because she was too focused on the candy. Jongho slips away his lips from yours to say, “Thank you so much, my love.” 

You chuckled blithely. “You’re very welcome, my Haribo.” You called him by his nickname. You’ll never stop using it since you first fell for Jongho. 

Soon enough, the Choi Bear family and ATEEZ have a lovely picnic together. Not to mention, the members fought over Juhee to have her sit with one of them. 

[alotofpockets]

Travel day | Arsenal WFC

Pairing: Arsenal x Teen!Reader & Kyra Cooney-Cross x Best friend!Reader

Summary: A travel day with Arsenal, where you and Kyra can't seem to sit still. [requested]

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

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Ever since you had joined Arsenal at seventeen, you were deemed the child of the group. All of your teammates were immensely protective over you. Leah was the most protective, she had let you move into her apartment, the captain not wanting you to stay somewhere on your own. At first the overly protectiveness was a bit annoying but once you realised that they all meant it well, you started to enjoy the way the team had taken you in as their family member. 

When Kyra had joined the team a year later, you were grateful for another youngling on the team. The girl had quickly gotten the “annoying little sister” status, and it was to no surprise to the team that the two of you got along great right away. 

Today was a travelling day for the team, you were heading overseas for a day of training, and a match the day after. You walk into the living room with your suitcase, kit bag, and your backpack, plopping them all down next to where Leah had put hers. “Hey kiddo, got everything packed?” You nod and sit down on the couch. “Socks, pyjamas, and a charger too?” You get up and walk towards her, handing her the checked off packing list. “I packed everything you wrote down for me.” She looks over the list, and is pleased with all the check marks she sees on the paper. “Alright then, Lia will be here shortly to pick us up. Oh, before I forget. I made you some sandwiches, you can put them in your backpack.” 

You take the sandwiches from Leah, “Lee, what am I supposed to do with this many ham sandwiches? It’s like a two hour flight max.” You laugh at the girl but put them in your backpack anyways. “You can share with Kyra, as I am guessing that the two of you will use up enough energy to need those later.” 

A couple minutes later, Lia arrives to pick the both of you up. “Hey kid, ready for today?” Lia asks as she gives you a quick hug. “Yeah, I’m excited.” With your luggage in the car, Lia drives the three of you to Colney where the team would meet up to head to the airport together. 

When you arrive at the airport, and have checked in your baggage and gone through costumes, you arrive at the gate. You drop your backpack to the floor where Leah sits down, and rush off to find Kyra again. When the girl notices you, she dropped her own bag next to Katie, and started running away from you. You sprint after her, chasing her around the gate.

The team watches the two of you run around amused, wincing when you’d nearly miss other airport goers. “Should we stop them?” Katie says to Leah, when you finally manage to catch up to Kyra, and tackle her to the ground. “I say let them tire themselves out, so we have a peaceful flight.” She said the last part as a joke, but seeing the amount of energy the two of you had at the moment, it was best to let some of it out now. 

They let you run around, and go back to their own conversations. Occasionally someone films the two of you, many of the clips either ending up on their Instagram stories or on their Tiktok’s. You had no clue about any of it though, as you were having the time of your life running with Kyra. 

You were grateful for the sandwiches that Leah made for you, when your stomach started growling. Grabbing both yours and Kyra’s backpack, you head back to her. She was sitting by the window, watching the planes move around in the distance. Like Leah had suggested, you shared the sandwiches with Kyra, getting through quite a few of them until Kyra pulled a ball from her backpack, with a sly smile on her face. 

The two of you start kicking the ball back and forth for a bit, before you start to do keep ups together, trying to not let the ball hit the ground. That’s when Katie steps in, and grabs the ball from midair, “Where did you even get a ball?” The older woman asks. “From Kyra’s backpack.” You say in defence, raising your hands up in surrender. Kyra rolls her eyes at how quickly you threw her under the bus, but she would’ve done the same thing if it would have been Leah that stepped in. Katie takes the ball with her, as she sits back down next to Caitlin. “Kids.” She shakes her head, but looks in your direction with a smile.

Once the plane had taken off, it didn’t take long for both you and Kyra to fall asleep.

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leahwilliamsonn just posted to their story

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Only to be full of energy again as the both of you woke up when the plane landed. You were bouncing your legs up and down, waiting to be able to get off the plane. There was no time for you to let out your energy now, as you went straight to baggage claim and onto the bus that was waiting to get you to the stadium you would be playing in a couple of days. 

However, the moment that you set foot onto the field, you were back to running around on the field with Kyra in tow. Occasionally either one of you would be taken aside to take a picture with some of your teammates, but you always found each other again. 

Once Kyra was taken aside by Alessia for a picture, you ran over to Leah. The girl welcomed you with open arms, “Hi kiddo, having fun so far?” You step into her arms, and hug her tight. “Yes, I can’t wait to play here.” You stay in her arms with your head leaned against her chest.

Kyra walked back up to you with a ball in hand. You look up to Leah, “Yeah, go on. Have fun.” And with that you made your way onto the field with Kyra, finishing the game of keep ups that was interrupted in the airport.

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[moonshynecybin]

i thinkkkkk this one is gonna be part of something larger but here's the first part of a fic (2.8k so far) where the first chapter is literally just rosquez having a conversation in an airport set around jerez 2024… i also wanted to add some good ole marquez brother goof arounds:

“Look, if you’re just gonna make fun of me—”

“No, please! I wanna hear the rest of this,” Alex says, leaning into Marc’s space and raising his eyebrows, goofy. It makes Marc let out a big laugh— full and loud. He stretches against the plastic of the airport gate seating, the movement pulling at overtired muscles. It feels like they’ve been here forever.

It’s been a long journey back to Spain— storm delays and rerouting stranding them in the airport for hours. They’re still here waiting for a connecting flight, puttering away next to their gate and shooting the shit. It’s been a good weekend —a podium for him— but he’s tired, and ready to be home.

“No no no no, I’m done.” He settles into his seat, pushing Alex’s face away from him. Alex cackles, and Marc points at him. “But you should do that professionally!”

Alex pulls one of his mild, exasperated faces, and it makes Marc smile wider. They’re probably being too loud. Marc doesn’t care.

“You know,” Alex points out, dragging out the last syllable of know so it sounds like knowwwww, “You are the world’s absolute worst loser.” 

Marc shrugs. “It’s a good thing, too— in our line of work you have to be.” He’s unrepentant. It’s how he’s built.

He ignores the face that Alex is surely making and leans down to rummage through his carry on, looking for headphones. For sure, if he has to lose to anyone, he’d prefer it was Alex. With him, the nagging bite of loss usually manages to morph into something lighter, more fun, just because he knows Alex won’t ever blame him for how he gets, how involved he can be in winning. That doesn’t mean he enjoys losing—he’ll never enjoy that—but it takes it back to being a game. None of the anticipation of a sour aftermath that he’s faced in the past, the wait for the other foot to drop, and the play to slide towards resentment without him noticing.

“I doubt losing at a video game will help you gain a competitive edge on the track,” Alex asserts dryly, turning his attention back to his phone and tapping open the Kindle app. He’s been obsessed with those fantasy novels, lately. “You can’t win at everything.”

“Trust me, I know,” Marc laughs, rubbing at his arm. He needs to call his PT. Whatever. “But! I don’t think that first thing is true.” Banishing the thought from his head, he leans over to poke Alex in the arm. Alex swats at his hand, not looking up from his book, and Marc pokes him again, harder this time. “I have a winner mentality.”

“You have a loser mentality. You just lost.” Alex is staring at what Marc thinks is the table of contents.

“Semantics.” Another poke.

Alex looks up, incredulous. Victory. 

“You were cheating! And you still lost!” 

“But you don’t have any proof of that.”

And Alex shakes his head like he can’t believe him, laughs again. “You are insufferable.”

Marc grins and Alex sighs, scrubs a hand over his head.

“I’m going to go grab some water. Maybe eventually they’ll let us board this fucking plane. You want anything?”

Marc shakes his head.

“No, I’m good.” He ate earlier. He opens his phone back up, thumbs over his home screen. Nothing looks exciting. He hasn't been on instagram so much lately– avoiding comments.

He sighs and contemplates opening his dating app. He doesn’t.

Nothing’s felt— he’s busy. 

It’s always been too much— too complicated with his schedule, with travel, timezones, turning over battles in his head. Braking maneuvers and tire pressure edging out any relationship before it got off the ground properly. Lately, since his arm, and since Alex had told him to go find someone— it’s been nagging more.

But no one gets it. Not like he does. And he’s just never found someone that felt like they were worth all of the effort it would take, keeping a relationship together in a life like his, bending himself around racing. There’s been flashes, some false starts, but nothing has ever–

He hears a distracted chuckle behind his back, a light sound, happy, and it hooks him, hard. A sucker punch. He glances over, his previous train of thought abandoned.

It’s— 

He's heard that laugh before. 

They haven’t seen each other— properly, actually exchanging words— since last year. The end of the season. They were both in the bathroom at the Lights Out Gala. Marc in a tux, Vale in a flannel. Marc had held the door for Vale as he had left. 

Vale, once he’d registered his presence, had thrown him a thin lipped, restrained smile, and thanked him. Asked him vaguely about his surgery. Moved on.

And now he’s on the phone, a few feet away, and he probably hasn’t even seen Marc yet. Instead, he’s chattering lowly, head slightly tilted as he drags a thumb over the handle of his suitcase.

Marc has to wonder if stuff like this happens to other people.

Alex hasn’t left yet, but is about to. He's noticed, of course he noticed, and he tugs on Marc’s sleeve, voice low. “You need me to stay?”

Marc shrugs, shakes his head. He's been around Vale before, after everything, in close quarters even. It's fine. 

He's had a lot of practice.

Those last few years, before Vale retired, after Argentina—after Sepang, really, though he maybe hadn’t processed it yet— he worked on it a lot. On taking Vale off of the pedestal, making him more of a person. On realizing he was always going to have a different relationship to Vale than Vale would to him.

He works hard at that distance, enforcing it, maintaining it. Tending to it.

And he had gotten somewhere better, once he had realized that. Had stopped trying to say hi to him every time he saw him. Vale is his hero, and he knows by know that that’s never going to change completely. The precise way his presence lights Marc up, makes him giddy, the disbelieving undercurrent that Valentino Rossi knows his name— but he also has come to terms with the fact that it's never going to be like he imagined when he was twenty, and he thought maybe he could matter as much to Vale as he did to Marc.

He knows that.

But it was an adjustment. It took some time. It’s better now. He's used to it.

Now, he can sit at an airport gate with him and ignore him.

He’s probably been staring at his phone screen a little too hard. 

“Allora— so, how have you been?” A voice asks, simply, closer to his ear than it should be. Of course.

He puts the emphasis on you, the full force of him narrowed on the word. Marc stays very, forcibly still. Projects calm.

Vale’s across from him, now, got there without him noticing. His legs are spread out wide in the seat across from Marc, hat pulled low and posture easy. His face is neutral— pleasant. Marc knows that means absolutely nothing.

Vale’s gaze charts over him, carefully, taking him in. Marc swallows, steels his jaw.

Vale has always had a way of observing. Leveraging that beam of attention. He doesn’t miss a thing, never has, and he looks good— tired, but relaxed, thin frame bundled up in a hoodie, hat pulled low over his forehead. Incognito mode, Marc remembers him joking sometime in 2013, after they had snuck out of the paddock to grab a drink at a bar post media day. But you always dress like that, Marc had said, probably too confidently, and Vale had laughed, had leant in and said Well, if I want them to recognize me, I just wear the Yamaha shirt.

Marc blinks. Vale’s eyebrows are raised, expectantly. He’s been quiet too long.

“Why?” He asks pleasantly. No use pretending.

“How have you been?” Vale asks, evenly, continuing as if Marc didn’t talk. “It has been a few months, yes? Since we’ve seen each other? The gala?” He looks away, shrugging. “I wondered about your arm– it seems better.”

“You could have texted.” Marc says, furrowing his brow. He's being overly serious, he knows, but he’s curious. He didn’t expect Vale to text, knew he wouldn’t actually. It still, despite it all, prickled at him. Whenever he was injured, before, Vale would always ask. He hadn't, anytime in the last four years, despite the severity of the injury.

So why is he asking now.

Vale huffs a laugh, swipes a thumb over his phone case, waves it lazily. “My number, it ah, leaked.” He makes a face. “I had to get a new phone a while ago. I don't think your contact made it over.”

It’s better than him deleting it. Better than Marc expected, to be honest.

It could also be a lie.

“Oh. Well.” Marc, says, unsure how to continue. He smiles at Vale anyways, lifts his good shoulder, combing through his brain for what he actually wants Vale to know about his arm. Not lying, just slightly to the left of the truth. He doesn't want anything getting back to Pecco, but Vale can sense insincerity from a mile off.

“I can't complain. The last surgery, it helped.”

Vale’s eyebrows jump, making a little grimace. “I heard, it did not look very pleasant.”

The documentary, Marc thinks, Did he watch the fucking documentary?

“—Now it’s just the bike? Managing the new braking style?” Vale asks. Marc cannot fucking remember the last time Vale asked him two questions in a row.

“Ah, you know. Trade secret.” Vale’s team is also vying for the GP25 — best to keep as much as he can close to his chest.

Vale raises an eyebrow and Marc folds like a cheap stack of cards.

He sighs. nods. Who cares. Vale’s watched him ride for years, he knows Marc still has a little bit to improve on the year old Ducati. He’s seen the data.

“Now it’s just the getting the bike, nailing the setup.” He goes for the PR version of the truth. Nevermind that his arm is still in PT three times a week. The Ducati is good— Marc is having more fun. Fighting at the front. Adjusting easier than he thought he would.

But it’s not a Honda. He needs a bit more time, and he needs– he needs the factory spec. And it looks like Jorge Martin might be the one to get it.

Vale nods, neutral, like the conversation’s ending, like he’s being gracious with Marc’s answer, letting him keep his emotions close— and a sharp, unexplainable feeling digs into Marc’s chest, that same way it did when he was watching him from the seat over in whatever press conference, those first few years. He wants to keep Vale talking. Wants him to keep looking at Marc, wants to— Marc doesn’t quite know, exactly, but it feels a lot like he does on track, when he just can’t quite keep himself from reaching for the win.

He speaks. Vale’s gaze snaps back to him, head following after, a little lazier.

“You? How's endurance racing? Missing anything about MotoGP?”

He says like he doesn’t know. Like he doesn't keep tabs. Like people don’t ask him about Vale’s results.

Anyways, it's hard to be involved in MotoGP and not hear about Vale, even when he’s been retired going into three years now. People talk, always eager for Marc’s opinion on his great rival.

There’s a quirk at the corner of Vale’s mouth. Like he’s won something. Marc curls a fist tight, ignoring the feeling that he’s given information away.

“Some things.” Vale replies, an odd glimmer to him. His brow furrows, then: “I miss how it was around ten years ago, more.”

Marc blinks.

“— Getting old, I mean. It was not so fun, there at the end. I could see everything I wanted to do, every move I would've made on track, ” He sits down across from Marc, leans back in his seat, long torso bending with his lazy posture, the mood shifts and he laughs. “But I was too old! It was harder.”

Of course that’s what he meant. Marc doesn’t— he doesn’t miss Marc. doesn’t think about him much at all, probably. Wasn’t saying he missed how it was between them, ten years ago, when they were friends. Marc knows that.

“I'm getting up there, now.” Marc jokes, “Acosta, he is on the horizon.” He’s not sure it lands, but Vale huffs a laugh anyways, rubs at his eyebrow.

“You?” Vale asks, incredulous. That x-ray quality is back in his vision. He always— He used to always get Marc that way, when he would dial in and make Marc think the words he was saying mattered to him. 

Vale shakes his head, shimmies a shoulder, wags a finger. “No no no no, don’t try that– you are still young, you cant talk to me about old.”

Marc grins. He doesn’t feel it so much, now, the years between them, but it’s a nice reminder of how good it felt, being the up and comer on the scene. The next Valentino Rossi. That was fun.

But he’s older now, has been in the paddock longer than almost anyone, just like Vale had– and he can feel it, dragging at his arm. can see it, in the lines under his eyes, the unfamiliarity of the faces around him.

He wonders how Vale did it for so long. That slow decline— new people popping up every day, ones who learned from him, perfected ideas he pioneered, then using them against him. 

He remembers how he felt on the podium yesterday, and decides not to ask. He leans back.

“Ehhhh, you are not really that much older than me.”

Vale’s expression doesn’t change, still set at his default neutrally animated, but something charges in the air, and Marc gets the sense he wants to say something, toying with the edge of the cliff.

Marc searches for something that won’t rock the boat. He settles on a compliment.

“Pecco was good this weekend— He beat me. You trained him well.”

Vale’s shoulders slide down, relaxing minutely. The charge slips away. Success.

“Ah, he’s a lot better than he was when you showed up at the ranch ten years ago, yes.” 

Marc leans forwards, “Hey!” So much for avoiding fraught topics.

Vale tilts his chin, considering. “What did you say about him? I don’t think it was flattering–”

“—That was ten years ago! I’m wrong ONCE.”

“Once is enough!”

“Apparently.” Marc hits back. 

And it’s good— they’re laughing, Marc thinks, he’s laughing— but that last bit, the apparently, hangs there, snagging in Marc’s mind.

Once is enough. Apparently.

Vale’s smile dies slowly, once it’s clear Marc isn’t about to continue, and it’s odd. Not fraught, for once— though Marc hasn't been the best at recognizing when it was in the past, but he’s pretty sure here. The moment dangles for a second, as they sit across from each other in an airport looking at each other. Vale’s face is doing that thing it was earlier, where he seems to be on the verge of some moment, and his mouth opens. For some reason, Marc flushes hot on the back of his neck. His skin feels tight, and their eye contact holds.

“All good?” It’s Alex, coming back with his Smartwater.

Vale sits up straighter, immediately, posture snapping into place. He nods at Alex, who ignores him, and slides back into his seat. He shrugs at Marc, a little in-joke. What did I do? it asks, fully knowing the answer. Alex has never been as shy as Marc is about his feelings concerning Valentino Rossi. 

And it's that above anything that makes Marc feel like he’s dunked his head in ice water, reality crashing in. The moment snaps as Vale tucks back into himself, leaving Marc off his balance. He feels dizzy and a little off kilter, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s gotten away with something, something illicit, which is ridiculous — he’s just been sitting here.

Nothing’s even happened. They've been two meters away from each other the entire time.

They haven’t even touched.

Vale’s eyes are boring into him, blue and clear. Alert. And Marc catches a flash of— concern, maybe, his brow is creasing— and it tugs at Marc, makes him want to glance back and make him feel easy, lift the corner of his mouth, shrug his shoulders and dismiss Alex’s chilliness. Makes him hot and nervy, out of his skin with the need to do something he doesn’t have a name for.

He smiles.

Maybe he is doing something wrong.

Vale smiles back, and it’s brilliant.

The flight attendant comes over the PA. They’re boarding.

[thedeadstoryteller1]

𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓇𝑒 | 𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃𝑒 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱 | 𝒫𝓉 . 1

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑒. 𝑃𝑙𝒶𝑔𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝑏𝑦 𝘩𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦, 𝘩𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝘩𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑤 𝘩𝑒𝑟.

𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑠: 𝐷𝑟. 𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒, 𝐷𝑎𝑤𝑛𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟, 𝑃𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝐴𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑘, 𝐴𝑛𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦, 𝑁𝑖𝑔𝘩𝑡𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑒, 𝐷𝑎𝑦𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚.

𝐴𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑡: 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡𝘩𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑡

𝐸𝒹𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇: @cordidy

“Who are you?”

“I am you, I suppose.” He whispers coldly. 

“What do you want?” I snapp. 

“Her.” 

My eyes burst open, the feeling of my heart racing in my chest causes me to sit up. The cold sweat on my forehead and the combination of heavy breathing make me shake. 

He looks like me.

He sounds like me.

But he's not me. 

He is the nightmare, the grim reaper dressed in black. 

He’s a killer, a monster, everything that I hope not to be. 

My hands are used to save lives, 

While his hands are used to take them. 

Hugging my legs close to my chest, tears running down my face as I bit my lips so no sound comes out, I try to breath in and out slowly, to contain my fear…in vain.

Don’t wake her up.

I glance over in her direction; there she is sleeping so peacefully. Even in her sleep she is beautiful.

Her hair a mess, a little bit of drool on the pillow and yet, she still manages to take my breath away. 

Looking at her makes my heart rate slow down and my breathing starts to even out.  Extending my hand to hers I try to touch her soft skin, but I quickly retrieve it, the black ice in my palms sending shockwaves of pain to my body as I race out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. 

The voices start… 

“Abomination.” 

“She only causes pain.” 

“You can’t save her.” 

“Leave her.” 

“Not worth it.” 

“Her.” 

They repeat the same words, over and over and over again. His…my  voice is louder than the others. 

Dropping to the cold tile floor my vision starts to blur and my heart rate increases again. The pain in my palms travels to my chest, cold shards of ice piercing my heart, preventing me from breathing properly as images of the Grim Reaper taking her from me, her lifeless body in his hands, then my hands flood my brain.

The fear of losing her dulls my senses.

What did I do to deserve this? I just want to help people, I’m good, I’m not a monster.

Why does it hurt to love her? I want her. She’s good for me. 

Why am I not normal? 

The cold freezing pain in my chest is too much, and I feel myself drifting away as I desperately gasping for air like a fish out of water.  

Calm down Zayne… it’s just another panic attack. Think of something, breath. 

My mind drifts to when I first saw her….

It was a sunny day.

I’d ask Mother and Father to go play with Caleb since it’s been a while since I last saw him. I wanted to show him my book about fighter planes. After agreeing, and while they were driving me there Mother told me that Caleb had a new sister. 

“A baby sister?” 

“No son, she’s a little younger than you. Her parents passed away, she’s adopted.” 

“Was it because of the Chronorift Catastrophe?” Mother and Father worked overtime at the hospital during the peak of the accident. 

I barely saw them at all during those initial weeks…

They remained silent. I knew it was my que to be quiet as well. 

Arriving at Josephine’s place, Caleb was waiting for me out by the porch, running down the stairs to greet me as soon as the car stopped.

“Zayne, look.” Caleb proceeded to show me his new ability with his Evol, taking  a small rock and levitating it off the ground. A simple swoosh, and the rock went flying into the opposite direction. “I’ve been practicing.” He smiled proudly at me. 

“It appears so, I got a new book on fighter planes. Like the ones you say you want to pilot.”  I said calmly. 

“Neeeeeerd, it better not have a bunch of words like that other one you showed me about black holes.” I shook my head, disapproving. 

“Pictures and words.” I assured him. 

“Alright, let’s look at it then. Come inside.” 

Following Caleb we made our way inside as I waved goodbye to my parents pulling out the driveway. 

I greeted Josephine politely and thanked her for having me again as she was baking cookies for us, Caleb’s grandmother telling me not to worry about it while my friend tugged at my arm and rushed me to his room. 

We sat there on the floor looking at the images of the planes, oooooh’s and aaaah’s filling the room as I read some facts out loud. 

“Caleb.” Josephine called from the kitchen. 

“Coming.” He answered, leaving for a few seconds before returning with a little black shadow tugging behind him. 

That’s the first time I laid eyes on her. 

She peaked her head off to the side, locking eyes with me and the afternoon glow illuminated her face softly. 

Her hair fell past her shoulders down to her waist, her bangs covering her forehead as her hair was parted half up half down. A cute red bow matched her jean overalls, little lambs embroidered at the bottom and white long sleeve shirt.

It was in that moment, while locking eyes with her, that I knew gravity no longer held me down.

She did.

I felt my ears turn red with embarrassment but I couldn’t move, the feeling of my heart racing in my chest distracting me from everything else around me. 

It felt like my very soul knew who she was. The feeling…indescribable for a twelve year old….

I didn't understand that what I was feeling was… love. 

“Hi.” She smiled at me sheepishly and from that moment on, I knew her smile would be the death of me and that I’de do anything to keep her smiling. 

Even if it meant I vanished in the wind. 

Feeling the cold tile floor, I’m finally able to breathe again as my heart rate starts to slow down. 

I sit up, staring at the moon outside the bathroom window before looking at my hands and arms for any new injuries. 

My palms are bleeding a bit. 

Seeing the fresh wounds on my hands among the faded ones on my arms makes me remember the first time I lost control of my evol. 

It was a few weeks after meeting her.

Caleb and I were practicing while she was playing with some flowers. 

I don’t know what happened, the ice shard flying out unexpectedly on its own accord, almost hitting her in the process. If it wasn’t for Caleb using his evol to move her out the way, the shard would have pierced her heart. 

My hand froze and the black ice crystals started to form on my arms, the cold making my skin rip as I received my first scars. 

Later that night, I saw him for the first time…..the grim reaper… 

It’s strange how my love for her causes me so much pain. 

Only twice has she seen the severity of my situation, the second time almost killing her as she tried to heal the ice crystals. 

No matter. 

I stand up and wash the fresh set of wounds on my palms, then take some water and splash it on my face. 

I face the mirror, the dark circles under my eyes visible in the moonlight. 

I know he sees me. 

I know his green eyes are looking right back at me. 

He peeks into my life, my memories and taunts me. 

I know he loves her just as much as I do. 

“You’ll never have her.” I whisper coldly, looking at my palms one last time before facing the mirror again.

“She’s mine.” 

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Pt. 2 with Dawnbreaker coming soon. Have a happy holidays. This is the only place I post my fics. Anywhere else was reposted without consent.

~𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝒯𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓇 ~

[daengtokki]

𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓇𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓉𝑒

Kim Seungmin/Female Reader

wc: 8.5k

rating: mature/explicit ಇ

comments: part three was heavily edited from it's original version. There are most likely some grammatical errors that I've glossed over from staring at the screen for so long. Feel free to send a message and let me know if you see anything wildly wrong.

→ PART ONE

→ PART TWO

Part 3 of 4

“You can’t be nervous if I’m nervous.”

He’s right. You take a deep breath and turn to face him again. Kiss him on the lips. Your free hand snakes around his waist, finds the hem of his shirt, and tucks underneath to run over his skin.

His muscles tighten for a second, then slowly relax as your hand moves upward against his side and back across his shoulder blade. He sighs as you touch him.

You haven’t felt this much of his body until now.

-

Your plane lands four hours later than scheduled. You’re tired, hungry, and your back is killing you. Korea Air is fine, and it always has been, but 13 hours in coach is something you’ll never get used to.

There were no plans to travel home up until three days ago, and it’s a miracle you got the week off to deal with your family. As much as you hate doing it, you don’t mind a change of scenery and a break from your typical work days in Korea.

Honestly, this is the perfect solution to the loneliness and monotony. It was only three weeks ago that you finally got to see Seungmin again, but it’s been a long three weeks. And he has kept his promise of keeping in touch.

Every single day since date number two, he's sent at least one text. You try to send messages only when he does, but occasionally you can’t help yourself, and you send something in the middle of your work day, or right before you go to bed. You’re still a little worried about being a bother, and holding back your clingy-ness has been difficult, but he always sends something back. Not always right away, but he does answer. And he sends selfies often—those texts are your favorite.

You have failed to mention that you’ve been on your way to Chicago (he sent a text about two hours ago, letting you know the first two shows had gone well), and that you’d be arriving the day before he would also be in the same city. But you’ll let him know soon. You don’t have much hope for getting to see him while you’re both here; he’s busy, and the last thing you want to do is bother him during a tight schedule. But he's been the only thing on your mind for weeks.

You managed to get a ticket to the Chicago concert the night you realized you be in town for it, but it wasn’t cheap. Even if you don’t get to see him alone, seeing him on stage will be worth the price.

____

“Who are you talking to?”

There’s a giggle in his ear, and a sharp chin lands on his shoulder. “Why are you smiliiing?”

IN grabs Seungmin’s shoulders and takes a seat directly behind him, giving him a good view of the phone in his friends hands.

“Don’t be nosy.”

“Is it the girl you’ve been talking to?”

Seungmin half turns and stares at IN, then looks him up and down, “What are you talking about?”

IN stares back wordlessly, a grin plastered on his face. He’s squinting his eyes at him accusingly. “I’m talking about the girl you’re always texting.”

Seungmin picks up his iced coffee, takes a sip, then releases himself from IN’s stare.

IN follows him across the room.

“Send her a cute selfie.”

“I already did.”

“Oh, haha!” He beams with pride at thinking he got him to slip up. “Did she send one back? Can I see her?”

“No. And no.”

“I won’t tell anyone else, I promise.”

“How did you know if nobody else knows?”

IN stops and thinks for a moment, then he side-eyes the other two members that are currently in the same room. They’re too far away to hear the conversation, but Seungmin stands and heads over to them.

“Chan?”

Chan turns and looks at him with a smile. He doesn’t get a chance to speak before Seungmin does.

“Did you tell IN about her?”

It takes him a few seconds to process what he’s being asked. “No, no…I didn’t tell anyone.” his voice lowers as he realizes what they’re talking about.

“How does he know?”

Chan peaks around him at IN, who’s already staring wide eyed. He beckons him over with two fingers, and he runs over, unbothered.

“How do you know?” He asks softly, very curiously. “I didn’t tell you.”

“I just guessed.”

Seungmin and Chan stare, speechless.

“I always see him smiling and laughing while he’s texting, and then taking selfies. I didn’t know he was actually texting…” he looks around at the others that just walked into the room. “…texting someone.” He whispers the last part.

“The less people that know, the better…” Chan says, but casually, as if he knows he doesn’t really have to tell IN. “It’s nothing serious, right Seungmin?”

“Huh…” he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. “Oh um, no…it’s not.”

Chan stares a little longer, “is it?”

Seungmin feels like his mind is being read. “We just talk a lot.”

He nods and leaves it at that. IN smiles at Seungmin once more before walking off. Then he pulls his phone out to check his notification.

Sounds like you guys had a good time. I did catch some fan videos from last night!

He smiles at the text, and then wonders what you’re doing up at four in the morning.

____

You pull out your phone, hoping the buzz in your pocket is him.

What are you doing up so late? Are you okay?

Oh, you forgot about the time difference. Maybe it’s time to let him know you’re not in Korea.

“I’m okay. I just landed in Chicago. I had a family thing come up, and I had to come home. I promise I’m not following you.”

You see him typing a few seconds after your message is delivered.

oh, you’re from Chicago! That’s so exciting that you’re here. Are you coming to the concert tomorrow night? Please come!

Before you have time to reply, he’s typing again…

Maybe not if you have family to see

“No, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it”

let me know what seats you have…maybe I can get you closer

You’re trying to text him and stuff your bags into the trunk of you moms car at the same time.

“I don’t think they’re very close, but I’ll let you know as soon as I get home”

don’t worry, I’ll figure something out

“What are you so smiley about?” Your mom asks and slams the trunk shut.

“Just a text.”

____

“Sooo…”

“Soooo what?” Seungmin glances at IN. He has an inkling about what he’s getting at, and he’s trying not to indulge him too much. But Seungmin will admit that if any of them were going to find out prematurely, he's glad it was him.

“Can I see her?” He’s careful and quiet saying it. “Please?”

“Fine, give me a second.” He types a quick message and then pulls up the photos you’ve both shared. He finds one of the very few selfies you’ve sent him and shoves it a few inches from IN’s face.

He looks and his eyes widen, smirk grows. “Oh she’s not…” he stops himself and lowers his excited voice, “she’s not Korean? Oh she sent a text.” He giggled and tries to finish reading before Seungmin pulls the phone back.

“No, she’s not.”

“Where is she from?”

“Chicago. She’s here now, too.”

“Oh she’s gonna come see us tomorrow!”

Seungmin nods and types, “yeah, she is coming. I need to get her a better seat.”

“Sneak her into soundcheck.“

____

The next morning, you wake up to the buzzing of a text notification. A Seungmin message. You open it up and squint through sleepy, jet-lagged eyes. It’s barely 8 am. You slept an entire ten hours, at least.

Good morning 🤍 if you’re able to, come down to the venue at around 2!

A close-up selfie follows. You can only see his eye, a peace sign, and a little bit of hair.

And a heart emoji. That combination is a first.

You reply, set an alarm, and immediately fall back asleep.

And luckily, you don’t sleep through it. At eleven, you’re up, nervous, showered, more nervous, and then when it’s time to figure out your wardrobe, you feel like you’re going to puke. Knowing you’ll see Seungmin is keeping most of your nerves at bay, but the fact that it’ll be at an arena of this size, with this many people (you assume there will be a massive amount of fans already hanging around that early, because you know how concerts here are), and throw in the possibility of meeting his friends…you’re nervous.

____

It’s as busy near the venue as you expected. And you find yourself enjoying it, surprisingly. Seeing all of the fans gathered around and clearly having a good time, despite the heat, is nice.

You jump out of your Uber and send a text to Seungmin. You need a more accurate location to head to, but for now you don’t mind wandering around and people watching. Just a glance at someone seems to immediately give away their favorite member, and you make it a point to look for anyone who prefers your favorite.

A text message buzzes before you get too far.

there is a staff entrance at the box office, just walk in and pretend like you belong

That sounds like a terrible idea, but you trust him and head in that direction. It’s not very busy there, because the tickets have long since sold out, but there are staff members milling around. You don’t look like you belong, but you also know that attitude and demeanor can get you far, so…

____

Seungmin only mentioned his plan (IN’s, really) to Chan about ten minutes prior to his last message to you.

“I don’t know if that was the best idea,” he says. “Is she already here?”

“Yes, she’s somewhere outside. And I know.”

“Okay, I might have a solution. Wait here.”

Chan disappears for a few minutes, and in the meantime, Seungmin actually starts to feel a little nervous. His plan was simple: have you walk casually in through the staff entrance he’s already seen used many times that days, by many different people—some with and some without staff shirts or lanyards.

“Even if she gets in using your terrible plan,” Chan returns, and behind him is a man much larger and taller than either of them. “She can’t walk around alone or with you the entire time.”

“She gets her own bodyguard!”

“Chaperone. And she won’t look too out of place with him. “

“Thanks, Chan. Thank you, Jay.”

“No problem, buddy. Let’s go find her before she gets lost.” Jay pats Seungmin on the back and leads him down the hallway. “What does she look like?”

It’s a long walk toward the entrance, but both of them scan every person and group as they pass by. It gives the butterflies in his stomach more time to move up to his chest and throat.

“She’s right there!” Seungmin waves and gets your attention before approaching. He doesn’t want to make a scene, so he waits until none of the venue staff is around.

You have a hard time containing yourself when you finally catch sight of him. You don’t remember him ever smiling as wide as he is right now, and it makes your legs tremble a little.

You wave and wait for him to reach you.

“Hey…” Seungmin stands a few feet from you. He seems a little uneasy.

The man following behind him is obviously trying to keep some distance, but not too much distance. “I can turn away if it makes you both more comfortable.”

“No Jay, you’re fine,” Seungmin laughs but doesn’t look away from you.

“Is this your bodyguard?”

“He is, actually. But today he’s going to hang out with you so you don’t look out of place, and you have someone who knows what’s going on.”

“Oh, that's a relief.”

“But I’ll take you to our dressing room if you’d like…if you want to meet everyone."

"I'm...I do, but do you think it's too much? I mean, too much too soon?"

"Meeting them?" He thinks about it. His mouth is pushed to one side, puffing up his cheek. "I don't mind if you want to wait. We can always just go right out by the stage for soundcheck. You'll see them out there, they'll probably see you. You'll be a mystery."

"I like that idea. Maybe afterward I'll feel better about it."

He nods and waves Jay over. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“You look nice.” He lowers his voice and and drops his gaze to the floor. But you can still see his smile.

____

You’re sitting a few rows back from the main stage. Your chaperone is a few yards away and much more relaxed out here. There are so many people working the sound check that your extra face is hardly out of place, so now you feel like you can relax and enjoy the view.

All eight of them are on stage, along with a few band members, and some techs. There’s a camera filming everything just off stage, and another directly on stage with them. You watch Seungmin as he interacts with it. He looks relaxed and happy. No more worry in his eyes.

You get out the earplugs he gave you, but for now you just enjoy listening to him speak into his mic and headset. He looks at you a few times, but subtly, trying not to direct too much attention.

One of the others keeps looking your way, you assume out of confusion or curiosity. Or both. It’s Lee Know. You watch as he walks along the edge of the stage closest to where you’re sitting. Another member joins him and looks out; this one is smiling, almost as wide as Seungmin smiled at you earlier. You know who everyone is thanks to the endless videos you've watched. It's IN.

You try not to make too much eye contact, but you don’t avoid them completely. They seem to know who you are.

Your chaperone appears next to again and takes a seat, “having a good time?”

“I am, thank you for dealing with me.”

“No problem, anything for these boys.”

“Do you know them well?”

“I’ve been working with them for a while now, so I’d say I do. How’d a girl like you meet Mr. Kim?”

The Mr. Kim is said with a bit of sarcasm, but a cute, playful sarcasm. And by a girl like you, you assume he means an American.

“I live in Korea, near where he grew up. We met through a friend. Do we seem like a weird match? I mean…we’re not a couple—"

“Are you sure about that? He’s looking at you right now with those big puppy dog eyes.”

Jay points up to Seungmin. When you look, he quickly smiles and waves before running back to the center of the stage.

____

Your adrenaline is off the charts at the end of the concert. You had an idea of what to expect from footage of other concerts, but being there in person, watching them…watching him, was obviously on another level. You feel like you’ve been introduced to a new little part of Seungmin’s personality. You feel closer to him.

Now you’re back outside in the fresh night air. You haven’t heard from him yet, but you’re not surprised. He’s probably exhausted. You stick around, though. He didn’t mention anything about seeing each other after the concert ended, so you don’t assume anything or get your hopes up (even though they are, by default, always up when it comes to him).

A small group of girls—you can’t really tell how old, maybe around your age—find a place to sit near you. They’re understandably excited and very loud, so you listen in as they talk about their favorite parts, favorite songs, and biases. The loudest of the group is a Felix fan. You sneak a glance at them and one of them notices you.

She waves, “are you here alone?”

You look around and then point to yourself, “Me? Oh, yeah I am.”

The rest of them wave you over with such enthusiasm that you can’t possibly deny them your presence.

“Was it your first concert? It was mine, but not theirs. We’re flying to California for the first two next week.” The girl who looks the youngest, and has a Han Quokka plush strapped to her gestures to the whole group. “Are you going to any more?”

“This is the only one I got a ticket for, so probably not.

“Who’s you bias?” The one who spoke to you first asks.

You hesitate for a moment. Who is your bias?

“It’s Seungmin.”

The girl continues talking, but you’re distracted by the buzzing of your phone. It’s him.

you are still around, yeah?

“Of course! I’m outside”

Now he’s calling. “Sorry, I gotta get this!” You excuse yourself from the group and answer.

“Hi, it’s a little loud out here.”

“Okay, I just figured calling would be easier. Come back in the way you did earlier, I’m already here.”

“Okay, I’m near there. Give me 10 seconds.”

He starts counting down…

“Okay…nine…”

You laugh and speed up a little—

“Eight…”

—but there are more people here and dodging them is not easy.

“Seven…six…five…”

“Count slower!”

“Fooooouur…three…”

You see the door and push through a couple much harder than you intend, but your hand is pushing the door open just as Seungmin says—

“Two! You did it!”

He’s a good distance away, but you can see his smile. He takes a few steps toward you, but lets you finish closing the gap. He holds out his arms and pulls you into a hug, which catches you off guard. You’re surprised oh makes him giggle. There’s nobody around except for Jay, but it still feels very bold.

“You were amazing.” You squeeze him a little tighter around the waist, and he reciprocates.

“Thank you…I hope you had a good time.”

“I did,” you slowly release him but keep a bit of his shirt clenched in your fist. “What’s your plan for tonight?”

“Hotel tonight…and I think we are leaving in the morning. Unless they change things last minute, which sometimes happens.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to leave right away. It’d be nice if you stayed in Chicago a little longer, though.”

“Yes, it would be nice.” You see him glance at Jay and lower his voice. “I can let you know which hotel, though. And I’ll text you my room number.“

“Oh?” You feel your face getting hot, and Seungmin’s cheeks have definitely turned a shade of pink.

“Unless I have to share the room.”

“Well, you just let know which hotel. And we’ll figure something out if we need to.”

He nods shyly and takes your face in his hands. He doesn’t pull you in for a kiss, though, just gently rubs his thumb over your cheek. And it’s somehow even better.

“I have to go, but I’ll text you.” He disappears with Jay around the corner.

And then you panic a little, because you weren’t ready for a hotel invitation. You’re having flashbacks of the last date, and how heavy things got for just a few minutes. And how Seungmin reacted, because he hasn’t gone that far with anyone yet.

Maybe that isn’t what he was getting at. You’ve spent plenty of time with him alone in your apartment, why would being alone in his hotel be any different?

It’s just a feeling. Just in the way he lowered his voice and blushed. Things will play out how they’re supposed to, though. No pressure. You’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation.

It might be a good idea to prepare anyway.

Going home seems pointless, because the hotel is most likely here in the city. You don’t want to waste time traveling home and then back. You’re already short on time as it is.

But when you find a convenience store to pop into, you get a look at yourself in the mirror. It could be worse, you suppose. It was a hot day, and the concert was no different. Besides, Seungmin has already seen you like this. It can’t be that bad.

But you do buy a water to chug, gum, and when you pass by the condoms, you stare at them for far too long. Buying them means you expect something to happen, and you feel weird about expecting it for some reason. Not buying them and being unprepared seems worse, though.

You grab a pack. You grab two, actually. You did get a quick feel of him before. And you remember it well. Now you just have to deal with the awkwardness of checking out with two different sizes of condoms.

You stuff your purchases between the mess of other things in your bag and walk aimlessly for a few blocks. It’s still crowded down here, even though it’s getting late, and you can’t help but start worrying when almost an hour passes with no text from a Seungmin.

Maybe you should have gone home and waited.

But just as the thought crosses your mind, you get a message.

“Here’s the address, and my room number is 1344.”

Your heart starts to race when you read it. He has his own room, so things will at least be easy. And the address is only another two blocks away.

____

You text him when you get to his room instead of knocking. You’re afraid to make any unnecessary noise. He's shuffling around in the room before the latch clicks and the doorknob turns.

Somehow every time you see him, he’s even better looking.

The door is closed and locked behind you before either of you speak.

“Hi…you got here fast!”

“I was close by. Was I too fast?” You look him up and down. He’s in sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and his hair is a little damp.

“No, definitely not. As long as I don’t look like a wet dog.”

“No, you look very handsome,” you grab a handful of his shirt and pull him toward you. “It’s a good look.”

He leans forward and kisses you on the forehead. Another romantic gesture. It gives you butterflies. You like it, but you can't help but be baffled by his very bold and distinct romantic gestures. Three weeks ago he had a hard time with your hypothetical dating question. But that was three weeks ago.

“Do you want something more comfortable to wear? I can give you one of my shirts.

Okay, so maybe he does want you to spend the night, “Yes, I'd like that.”

He grabs one from his bag and shakes it out. Then he brings it to his face to smell it, “this is clean.”

“Thanks,” you hold it up and look at it.

“It not very big on me, so it should fit okay.”

You head into the bathroom and look at yourself again, try to get the butterflies in your stomach to calm down. Big breath in, slow breath out. It doesn’t seem like he’s trying to drive you crazy, but he’s doing a very good job.

You start taking off your necklaces, your bracelets, and then peel off your shirt that’s long since dried from the sweating you did all day. You check yourself for any offending odors, and even though it’s not bad, you take the time clean up the best you can.

It’s been a while since you had to do a sink bath before a potential lay. And every single one before this wasn’t even worth it. Seungmin is different, though.

Now you wonder if this is the way you want things to go. In a hotel, very little preparation. But you may not see him again for a while after tonight. And if this feels good for him, it's good for you.

There is still the possibility that he won’t be ready.

You slip into his shirt, and it's still pretty big. The sleeves reach your elbows and the bottom hem just covers your shorts. You could walk out without them and he might not even realize it—you take them off and fold them up neatly with your shirt and jewelry, look at yourself one more time, and then head back out to him.

“Oh, that looks good on you,” he turns from his seat at the edge of the bed, then pats his hands on the spot next to him. “Come here.”

As you climb onto the bed and crawl toward him, he slowly lies down on his back. “Are you tired?”

“No, not tired,” he props himself up on his elbow to get a better look at you. “Not yet...it takes a while to relax after a concert." He pulls at the hem of your shirt and his fingers slide across your thigh. He takes his hand away, so you grab it and put it back. Seungmin takes the hint and slides his palm to the side and gently squeezes.

When he looks up at you, you grin, but he just lets himself fall forward so he can hide his face in the blanket. You hear a big sigh, and maybe a soft laugh.

“What’s the matter?” You lie down next to him and wait until he turns his face to yours. “Minnie?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Do you want to get cozy and watch something?”

“Yes, that sounds nice.”

You pull the blankets down and fluff the pillows while he gathers himself again. “Which side do you prefer?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t usually have to choose.”

“Okay, I’ll take the left side.” You cover yourself up and relax against the pillows.

Seungmin follows, but he stays on top of the blankets for a moment and stares at you. You stare back and say nothing. Then he crawls underneath them, too.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” You say.

He just pushes himself into the pillows and pulls the blanket up to his chin without a word, but he turns himself to face you.

You do the same.

“If that’s what you want.” He says.

You roll your eyes around as if you’re thinking and hmm under your breath. “Can I come closer?”

He nods.

You scoot yourself toward him until you can rest your forehead against his. “That’s better.”

“Can’t watch anything like this.”

“Oh, no I guess not,” you move back a little and look him over. “Should we—“

“No,” he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back. “This is good.”

You take the invitation and place your hand on his neck; he moves in for a kiss before you get the chance to, though. And he kisses hard enough to push you on your back.

For a moment you think this might be it, but you find yourself hesitating and softening your kiss. Then loosening the grip on his neck.

He pulls back and stares down at you.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do,” you cup his face and hold him there. “There’s no rush.”

“I know.” He comes back down, kisses you once, and then falls back at your side. But his arm remains draped over your stomach.

Your heart sinks a little. It feels like you don’t know what you want. Well, you do know you want him, but you’re nervous. Maybe just as nervous as he is. “Don’t think I don’t want to, because I do.”

Seungmin smiles and sets his head against your shoulder. “I know you do.”

He knows you want him. You’re glad he knows—and you love the way he says it.

“Are you stopping because you’re worried I’m not ready?”

“No, only you know that. I’m just a little nervous, I guess.”

“You’re nervous?”

“I am.”

“You can’t be nervous if I’m nervous.”

He’s right. You take a deep breath and turn to face him again. Kiss him on the lips. Your free hand snakes around his waist, finds the hem of his shirt, and tucks underneath to run over his skin.

His muscles tighten for a second, then slowly relax as your hand moves upward against his side and across his shoulder blade. He sighs as you touch him.

You haven’t felt this much of his body until now.

You keep going, touching his stomach, his chest. It’s then that you feel his hand on you. It’s warm moving across your thigh, over your hip. His touch is soft, but he squeezes when he pulls you closer.

Seungmin slides his hand down to the back of your thigh and brings you as close as he can manage.

He’s on top off you again, hand still on you. His hips are gently pushing into yours. You can feel him through his sweatpants, and now your brain only wants one thing: to get them off of him.

“Seungmin,” you get him to look at you. “Seungmin?”

“Mhm?”

You pull his shirt over his head and toss it aside.

“Yeah?” He kisses your neck and lifts your shirt. “Are you okay?”

You nod and help him get it off.

“Oh,” he laughs and touches the spot directly below your sternum. “Tattoo.”

He looks over you slowly, a little shyly, before placing a kiss on your collarbone. You run a hand across the back of his neck. The other slides down his stomach until it reaches the band of his sweatpants.

Your heart beats wildly in your throat as your hand disappears. Fingers wrap around him and feel every inch. He whimpers softly into your neck. The hand buried in his hair moves down and kneads hard into his shoulder as your fingers stroke him.

Seungmin’s face is still in your neck, breathing hard. Eventually he takes a hand and maneuvers it to pull at his sweatpants. You let go to help slide them down enough to free him.

He moans, a little apprehensively, when you touch him again. You know you have to take it easy; he’s obviously very sensitive and you want this to last as long as possible for him.

“I like hearing you, don’t be shy.”

He tries to hold back an embarrassed laugh, but he does a bad job of it.

“Are you comfortable in this position? I could…do this with you on your back.”

He nods, but you don’t know which part he’s nodding to.

“Lie down.”

You let go of him until he’s on his back and relaxing. His face is still flushed and his breathing is a little shaky, but his eyes are almost closed. He seems relaxed enough. You kiss him and wrap your hand around him again.

His eyes open fully when you begin to stroke him again. His lips part and you slide your tongue against his.

The moans coming from him become a little louder. His hand lightly grips and slides down you arm.

“I didn’t really prepare for this. It could be better…if we had lube.”

“It feels good.” He whispers and smiles into your mouth. “Oh, I do have some.”

“Where?” You slow down a bit and let go of his lips. “I can grab it.”

“It’s…” he laughs sleepily, “it’s in my bag on the chair, in the smaller black bag.”

You climb over him and jump off the bed. The bag is is already open and a few things have been pulled out, but you can see a small black bag on the side. “I found it,” you unzip it and look around.

“It’s in the other little bag inside of that.” He laughs again. “Everyone is very nosy.”

You unzip the second bag, and there it is. It’s small, and still looks pretty full. You turn and look at him, “for when you’re lonely and horny on the road.”

He laughs again. “Yes, exactly.”

You warm a small amount in your hand and push the blanket down a little. You’ve touched him, but you haven’t really looked anywhere besides his lips and eyes yet. Now you watch your hand slowly move up and down , and the warmth and slickness makes everything so much better. You can feel how good it is for him. Your heartbeat drops into your stomach and you can feel yourself getting wetter every time he lets himself moan.

But as wet as you think you might be, his size is still more intimidating than you expected.

“You’re very good at this.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard his voice so soft.

“Yeah?”

He bites his lips and nods. “It feels so good.”

The room is warm, and the AC hasn't kicked on again. There are a few beads of sweat forming at his temple—you kiss him there and work your way down to his chest, then across his stomach.

The muscles tighten as you move across his hot skin, further and further down. When you slide your tongue across his head, he moans out the breath he’d been holding since you got to his chest. The sound he makes is desperate. He does it again when your lips close around him and your hand grips a little more tightly.

He wasn’t prepared for your mouth. He breathes out your name and it sends a wave of pleasure through you. His hand touches softly across your back and neck.

He says your name again.

“You okay, Minnie?” You kiss his stomach again and look up at him.

He nods and sits up, “can I touch you?”

You let go of him and straddle his stomach. He reaches for you and runs his fingers over the thin fabric. You put your hand over his and push your underwear to the side so he can feel you. There’s another, almost inaudible moan when he does.

Two fingers slip deep inside as you lean in to kiss him, and with your help, he gets the hang of moving inside of you.

You sigh sweetly into his mouth. You’re already much more sensitive than you normally would be. Every little movement he makes is causing just enough friction where you need it. The heel of his palm found your clit and you’re not sure he even realizes.

“I’m gonna come if you keep that up, wait a sec,” you stop his hand and take a deep breath.

“You are?” His voice cracks and he sits up more. His other hand has been digging into your hip, and he finally loosens his grip. There might be a bruise there later.

You grab his face and kiss him hard, then finally maneuver yourself out of your underwear while he’s there to keep you balanced. You reach behind and find his cock, stroke him a few times, and move back.

“Are you good if I…have a seat?” You laugh and wrap your other arm around his shoulder.

“Yes, very good,” he holds onto your waist to help steady you both.

When his head slides across you, he smiles and throws his head back. You do it again before carefully pushing him a little bit inside of you. It doesn’t take much to get another sound out of him.

“There’s a lot more to go,”

He looks drunk, but he smirks, “sorry.”

“For what?”

“For having a lot more to go,” he laughs.

“I’m not complaining.”

You push him deeper, just a little, because you’re not sure what your limit will be in this position.

And deeper. You watch him carefully. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open. You hold him tightly around the neck with both arms before slowly lifting yourself.

It takes a few more times before you find a rhythm , but when you do, you’re sure the sound Seungmin makes reaches the surrounding hotel rooms.

You try to quiet him with your mouth, but it only stifles him a little. You love the noise, but if the others are close enough to hear him, it might makes things awkward.

His hands hold your hips and slowly guide you up and down on his cock. You breath his name into his mouth, and he bites down on your lip.

His voice is a whisper. “Is it okay?”

“Yes,” you whine and push yourself as far down as you can. It stings, just a little, and only for a moment. “You feel so good.”

He leans back to watch himself slide inside of you, and the lusty, satisfied look on his face is making the ride even smoother. “Do I?” He takes your face in his hand and runs his thumb along your lips and cheek.

The room disappears and all that exists is the feeling of him; his breath on your neck, his voice in your ears. His hands grip you tighter, lifting you, and holding you steady when he fills you up again.

He’s not ready for it when you pick up your pace. His fingers dig hard into your hips—you hear him swear under his breath as he attempts to keep himself under control.

“Talk to me, I wanna hear your voice. Do you like it, Minnie?”

Seungmin kisses your neck, his lips graze over your ear, “yes,” he manages through the soft sounds he can’t hold back, “yes, fuck. You feel amazing.”

You pull him away and look at him, arms still wrapped firmly around his neck. One hand slides up and into his hair. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“Under me, lost in it. I thought you were sexy before…but—“

“You think I’m sexy?” His smile is cute and tipsy, voice is airy. If it weren’t for you holding him up, he’d be flat on his back.

All of the sudden, you’re snapped back to reality. Seungmin is there, eyes wide, but the room is back. You’re no longer floating. You lost control and went a little too hard, and it hurt. You make a pained sound and all of your weight is on his shoulders.

“Did I hurt you?” He holds you up and pulls out, and you’re now relieved to be giving your burning thighs a break.

“No, no you didn’t,” You have to kiss him to get rid of the worried look on his face. “That was my fault.”

“We should change positions.”

You lay back on the pillows and grab his waist when he crawls over you. Your legs fall open and rest on either side of him.

“This is a bad angle for you to look at,” he smiles and hides his face in your neck.

You lift his face back up, “is that a joke? You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever had between my legs.”

He whispers a no and hides his face again, but at the same time, his fingertips slide down your thigh as if he’s teasing you.

”Sexiest…” you moan into his ear and wrap your legs around him to bring him closer.

You don’t need to give him any more direction. He explores you briefly with his fingers before guiding himself in the same way you did; slow and gentle.

“I’ll be careful…” he slides in easily in this position, stopping short to make sure he isn’t going too far.

You take his hips and carefully pull him in the rest of the way.

A rough groan jumps out of him when you meet. He stays there and looks at you until you brush the hair from his eyes and speak. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he smiles, looks down your body, then back up to your face. “Just like looking at you.”

“I’m the one with the view,” you kiss him and shift your hips, getting another sound out of him.

Now he’s finding a rhythm, but he’s much more reserved than you were. He seems to know his own limits, and maybe he’s trying not to overdo it and finish too fast.

“Is this okay?” He nuzzles into your ear and whispers before kissing you just below it.

“Yes,” your hands run up his sides and back, his neck, into his hair, “it’s perfect.”

He thrusts into you, very delicately, a few more times before slowing down. Then he stops completely, still inside of you. He’s breathing hard, eyes closed in concentration.

“Seungmin?”

“I just…need a few seconds.”

“Take your time,” you take his hand in yours and help his thumb find your clit.

He moves it in slow circles and watches you for any direction. But he does very well. He has a light touch, and a good pace. His hands are soft and warm. This, combined with him inside of you, looking down at you with eyes drunk with pleasure trying so hard not to come yet, is making everything happen very fast. But you don’t mind.

When he pulls out halfway and pushes back inside, you whimper and the pleased look on his face pushes you over the edge. He smiles and starts fucking you again, and he doesn't let up—you feel it coming. You moan much louder than you intend. He loves hearing it.

Your back arches up and your legs squeeze around him. It lasts a long time, and he doesn’t stop—just carefully touches you in the right spot until your body finally relaxes

“Wow…did you—”

You nod and try to catch your breath.

He doesn’t get through his question because it’s his turn. He comes hard and fast. The condom was completely forgotten up until this point, and he certainly doesn’t attempt to pull out. You don’t even allow yourself to dwell on it—you just enjoy the moment.

Seungmin’s mouth hangs open, and his eyes water. His moan is different this time; it’s more feral. His whole body tightens and moves in slow motion as his orgasm passes through him. He pumps into you until he can't take it anymore..

Then he’s catching his breath and regaining his composure. He comes down to kiss you, tucks an arm under your neck to bring you closer. He slowly pulls out and puts his weight on his knees.

“Come here…”

He listens and slowly lowers himself next to you. His hair is a little damp from sweat, and his face is pink. It’s a good look for him. You pull the sheet up and over both of you, then wipe at his brow with your thumb.

“That was nice,” he’s still catching his breath. His eyes close and you can see his body soften and relax on the pillows. “That was very nice.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“It was better than nice,” his eyes flutter open and he looks at you. Then he reaches out and pulls until there’s no space left between you. “It was much better than I thought it could be.”

“Wow,” you say into his neck. “That’s quite a compliment.”

“But I’m sorry, it’s probably not great that we didn’t use protection.”

“No, but I’ll take care of it in the morning.”

Someone’s phone buzzes.

“I think that was me,” Seungmin says and reaches behind him. His phone got lost somewhere underneath the blankets. As soon as he glances at the screen, he tosses it behind him again. “Are you going to stay the night?” He asks, arms tight around you again.

“I should get home before my mom starts to worry.”

He nods and tries to hide a pout.

“But you’re leaving in the morning, right?

“I think so, I’m not sure what time.”

“Would it be alright if I spent the night? So we can say goodbye.”

“Yes, that's a much better plan.”

“Can I use the shower?” You wiggle free of his grasp and look at him, “heat, concert, sex…that’s a lot to sleep in.”

Seungmin laughs and nods, “yes, go take a long hot shower.”

____

When you come back to the room, Seungmin is sitting at the desk writing. You can hear soft music playing from his phone. There are fresh clothes laid out on your side of the bed: the shirt you had on very briefly, and a pair of very comfy looking sweatpants.

“Are these for me?” You ask. He’s already cleaned up and redressed.

He closes his book he’s writing in and spins around in the chair, “yes, I’m sure they won’t fit very well, but they’re comfortable.”

“Thank you.” You drop your towel and pick up the shirt.

Seungmin stares at you as you pull it over your head, “what?” You laugh and grab the sweatpants. They are soft and they look expensive.

“Uhm, sorry…I didn’t see you without your bra before.”

You think he might be blushing.

“Oh!” You grab your chest, “I guess you didn’t. Come here.”

“Hm?” He smirks and walks toward you as you lift the shirt back over your head. “Oh…”

You take his hands and he immediately touches you, running his palms, and then his fingertips, over your nipples. They stiffen from his touch. He sits at the edge of the bed and pulls you closer, keeping one hand on your chest. The other runs down your side and over your ass. He squeezes and kisses the spot where your tattoo is.

This could turn into something very quickly, but right now you want nothing more than to get under the covers with him and sleep. You know he needs it.

“I like this,” he pulls at the hem of your shirt when you slip it back on. “You look cute in my clothes.”

____

It’s nice waking up next to him.

The room is still dark because the curtains are pulled shut, but not completely—little bits of sunlight make it in through the sides. You can see his sleeping face, cheek squashed against the pillow, lips slightly parted. He’s curled up tight in his spot with the blanket only covering his lower half, but one bare knee is far up enough to poke out.

His arm is reaching toward you, palm up and fingers curled. You slide your hand over the sheets and gently touch him. His fingers twitch and then close around yours.

He sighs deeply, then opens his eyes. First he looks at his hand holding onto yours, then his eyes move along your arm and up to where you’re laying on your pillow.

“Good morning,” he squeezes your hand and moves himself closer to you. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod and pull his hand up to your lips. “Did you?”

“Mhm, very well.”

“Did I tell you how amazing you were last night?” You ask and fluff his hair, “I mean…” you hide behind a hand, “I’m still asleep.”

“Well, I don’t know about…amazing.”

“The concert I mean!” you hide your face in the pillow, and Seungmin giggles as he tries to get you to look at him.

“I was okay I think.”

“The concert was…and you. I was focused on you the whole time.” You clarify as much as possible through your grin.

“You focused on Seungmin the whole time?”

“Yeah, the best part.

“And last night…last last night.” He smiles wide.

“Also focused on Seungmin.”

He pushes himself closer until his face disappears into your neck. “Thank you.”

A knock echoes through the room. Three heavy knocks. The voice that comes through is soft. “Seungmin, are you up?”

“Oh, it’s Lee Know. Stay here.”

You stay put and pull the covers up over your shoulders, but you turn to face the door. Seungmin opens the locks and pulls it open a few inches.

“What’s wrong? It’s still early.”

“I know, but I thought you might want to get breakfast,” Lee Know puts a palm on his side of the door and pushes, “can I not come in?”

“Uh, you can but…” Seungmin hesitates. “I’m not alone.” He gives in when Lee Know takes several steps into the room. He won’t be able to hide you for much longer.

“Oh,” he looks to the spot on the bed where you’re under a pile of covers. “Is it the girl, the one who was at the soundcheck?”

“Did IN tell you about her?.”

“No, Chan did. I should go. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to go,” you squeak out. You can just make him out from your spot, and when you pull the covers down from your nose, his whole body comes into view. Then you remember that one of them doesn't speak English very well, and you think it may have been him. You repeat yourself in Korean.

His eyes widen a bit. “Should we all get into bed, then?” He can be sarcastic and dry; you remember Seungmin mentioned that as well.

You sit up and look at him with a smirk on your face. “He’s the boss.” You nod toward Seungmin.

“You’re the boss,” Lee Know looks at Seungmin and winks. “Text me if you want to come.”

Now he turns to you, “nice to meet you,” he smirks and lets himself out.

Seungmin let’s out a long sigh when he’s gone.

“Come back to bed,” you move the blankets from his spot and fluff up his pillow. “Please.”

He listens and crawls back to your side. When he puts an arm around your waist and pulls you close, he says, “I was nervous about you meeting him.”

“Lee Know? Why were you nervous?”

“Am…am nervous, I guess.”

“You don’t think he’d like me?”

“The opposite, actually.” He hides his face in your chest and whines.

You oooh into his ear and it makes him giggle. “Does that tickle?” You move his hair and place a kiss there.

“I think you two are very similar.” Seungmin says. “You remind me of him sometimes, especially when we text.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he shakes his head, still shoved into your chest. “But, I just think you’d like him.”

You scoot yourself down until you’re face to face with him, but he still doesn’t lift his gaze. “Hey, look at me.”

He doesn't.

"Minnie?"

This time he listens, but he also gives you his best puppy eyes.

“You think I’ll get to know him and like him more than I like you?”

Seungmin nods.

“And that he’ll steal me away from you?”

He nods again, then stops and shakes his head, "You're not really mine to be stolen away..." he scrunches his face up in thought, wondering if his English made any sense.

“Well, I’m a little flattered you’d think someone else would like me that much. I’m much more flattered you don’t wanna have me stolen away.”

He rubs his eyes and sits himself up on the bed. “I’m sorry, I know we already talked about this.”

“We can talk about it again if you want to.”

He shakes his head and gets back under the covers. His hands find you and start to paw—at your side, your hip. He slides one down your outer thigh, and slowly back up. Then he starts to talk anyway. “He also knows Choonhee very well.”

“Okay, I think I'm understanding. I could have possibly been set up with Lee Know instead of Seungmin?”

You can hear his dramatic whine from underneath the covers. “It is very possible.”

“But I was set up with you for a reason. And you’re the first person I went on a date with since I left home, so I got very lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah, lucky. Good dates are hard to find.”

Seungmin pokes his head out from the covers and smiles at you. “I’m glad I was a good date.”

"You were a perfect date."

"You should call me Minnie more." He says it's softly, but his hands are in a dangerous spot. "All the time. I like it.

"You were a perfect date, Minnie."

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 50

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 6k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Friday, February 12 - At Jenni’s place.

I bite my lip to stifle my smile. The image Lucy presents is funny, but I don't want to make her scowl worse. It’s the first time I’ve seen her so impatient, tapping her best friend’s car hood.

“They’re obviously late,” she grumbles.

“They’ve only been gone ten minutes. They’ll be here soon.”

“It’s not funny,” she growls. “Stop smiling like that.”

My smile fades instantly; I don’t want to annoy her any further. Our vacation isn’t starting as I had imagined. Lucy’s been grumpy since I met up with her. She had a terrible morning, having to supervise a first-year student who was punished and left out in the rain. I hope she’s tougher than me and doesn’t fall sick. She was so chilled at noon that she had to stay under the shower for over fifteen minutes to warm up. We planned to leave right after our classes to have lunch in town with Alexia and Ingrid, but we ended up grabbing a sandwich to eat at the airport because we were short on time. It was a good decision, because even though Mapi’s plane was delayed, she managed to get out before we finished eating. Miraculously, we arrived on time for the meeting we had planned with Lucy’s friends. If we hadn’t, I can’t even imagine how Lucy would have been, seeing her already so wound up now. We were supposed to leave at 2:30 PM, but Jenni supposedly lost her phone in the apartment. Seeing Lucy’s worsening state, Alexia decided to go up and help Jenni search for it. I suggested to Lucy that we step outside to get some air to calm down, but it was a bad idea once our friends waiting in the other cars started teasing us by honking.

“I’m going to kill them.”

“Hey!” I exclaimed. “Calm down.”

I was about to put my hand on her back but held back when I saw her dark eyes. The others are openly mocking us. We decided to take three cars to avoid being crammed together with our luggage. Mapi is sharing a car with Ingrid and Aitana, who’s driving. As for the second car, there’s Mary, Caroline, and Beth. As for us, we’re riding with Jenni and Alexia. Lucy draws my attention with a sigh.

“I need a hug,” she mutters.

I smile as I open my arms to her. She leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. This time, I gently rub her back.

“Come on, relax. We’re on vacation. We’ve been looking forward to this for so long.”

The week was tough. We were distant from each other most of the time. I didn’t understand the feeling of missing her, but according to Lucy, it’s just because it’s still the early stages of our relationship. We need to find a balance, and she’s probably right. It only made me more eager to finally be on vacation.

“Hmm... You’re right. I’m sorry for being so unpleasant.”

“You’re allowed to have a bad day.”

She nods before giving me a chaste kiss. The moment doesn’t last long as she returns to nuzzle into my neck. We stay like that until our friends return. Jenni is driving, so Lucy gave up the front passenger seat to Alexia and sat in the back with me. She’s the first to get into the car when they return.

“Did you find it?” I ask Ale.

“Yeah, it’s all good. How’s Lucy doing?”

“Not great, but she’ll be fine,” I reassure her.

“I hope so.”

I nod with a small smile to reassure her. I’m not worried about it. The ride will probably calm her down. I join Lucy in the back. The first thing I notice is that she’s moved my backpack that I had placed in the middle and also took off her jacket. Seeing this, I follow suit, figuring she’s right to make herself comfortable given the long drive ahead.

“How many hours do we have left?” I ask, thinking about it.

“A little less than 6 hours, I think.” Lucy says

“Could be worse,” Jenni replies as she settles in.

She also takes off her jacket. Something tells me they’ve traveled together a lot before, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. The GPS she activates pulls me out of my thoughts as it starts speaking. We’ll be the ones leading the way thanks to it. I realize I didn’t bring my headphone, but I quickly forget this detail when I hear the music playing. Jenni left the radio on with current hits. It’ll fill the silence since Lucy doesn’t seem to want to talk.

“Can I lie down?”

I’m surprised to hear her speak. She’s pointing at my lap, and I quickly understand her intention. I’m not sure how she plans to do it, but I nod in affirmation.

“Of course,” I confirm. “Come here.”

She unbuckles the shoulder strap of her seatbelt, leaving only the lower part fastened, then takes off her shoes and leans heavily against me. We shift to find our positions, and once we do, I hold her close, intertwining our hands. My free hand gently rubs her stomach in slow circles, which seems to soothe her judging by the long sigh she lets out. This week was pretty disastrous. If we didn’t share a room, we would have barely seen each other since she was so busy. The fact that she doesn’t want any affection during the day doesn’t help either. Plus, I had to meet with Wiegman. She wanted to make sure my night troubles were improving, and she confirmed that I’d be returning to my room after the holidays. I need to make the most of Lucy during this vacation. Looking up, I catch Ale’s reflection in the sun visor. She smiles at us, making me blush. This is the first time she’ll see us interact so closely, especially as a couple. I turn away and grab my scarf to use as a pillow against the window. Lucy, already dozing off in my arms, grumbles at my fidgeting. I apologize and stop moving. My head trembles slightly against the window, but not enough to be bothersome. I finally exhale softly, closing my eyes with a small smile on my lips as the car finally starts moving.

Friday, February 12 - Hotel.

I jump slightly when a hand touches my cheek. I look around, almost bumping into Lucy, who had finally slumped over me. The car is empty except for the two of us. She gives me a reassuring smile.

“We’re here.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” she giggles. “It’s not a myth. You really sleep like a log. I didn’t dare wake you.”

I blush at her remark. I realize I had fallen asleep again for the entire trip. I imagine she didn’t.

“I don’t want to get up,” she tells me. “You’re really comfortable.”

“It’s not surprising with all this fat,” I joke.

Lucy gently smacks my thigh with a stern look, making me yelp in surprise.

“Don’t ever say that. It’s not true.”

She grimaces as she sits up. The position must have given her cramps. She swears as she stretches and unbuckles her seatbelt. I do the same, putting on my jacket and scarf.

“Bundle up well. It’s cold outside.”

I nod, agreeing with her. From what I can see, there’s a thick layer of snow outside. As soon as the door opens, a frigid gust invades the car. To think that in Manchester, everything was starting to melt. Here we are back in the snow. I smile at Mapi, who comes to greet me as soon as I step out.

“Did you sleep through the whole trip again, sleepyhead?” she teases.

“No using that nickname, it’s mine,” grumbles Lucy as she steps out of the car too.

I stifle a laugh when I see Mapi roll her eyes nonchalantly. From the latest updates I’ve gotten, the two have been getting along better thanks to Mapi’s support for my girlfriend. This only makes me happy. I was really worried about the opposite. Luckily, Mapi doesn’t push her on the subject. I would have sided with Lucy. She doesn’t give me many nicknames, so I plan to let her have exclusivity if that’s what she wants. For the past few weeks, she’s been calling me "princess" or even "baby" or "sleepyhead." These nicknames make my heart flutter. They really make me feel like we're together. It's not easy to realize that since we maintain a teacher/student relationship at school.

"Can you help me, baby?" Lucy calls as she takes out our suitcases.

"Yep," I reply, confirming. "See you later," I say to Mapi before leaving.

I help her with the last of our things before joining our friends, who are chatting at the entrance, waiting for us. We all go inside the lobby together to escape the cold, and I must say, we make quite a group, especially with the other girls. The place looked large from the outside, and now that I'm seeing the reception area, I find it stunning. It's a mix of modern decor and a chalet style, thanks to the wooden accents. I stay aside with Alexia and Mapi while Lucy goes up to the reception with a few friends. We have five rooms in total—one for each couple, and the last two will be shared by the four single girls.

"I think the receptionist has a little crush on you," Mapi teases.

I stop my observations, realizing she's talking to me.

"Huh? No way."

"No, I think she's right. He keeps glancing at you," Ale giggles.

I roll my eyes at their teasing. He’s going to be disappointed when he sees me in Lucy's arms later. I don't really plan on hiding my relationship with her during this trip. All our friends know about us, so there's no reason to. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I feel compelled to take a quick glance at him to see what he looks like. He was indeed looking at me, but when our eyes met, he quickly looked away. He seems to be around our age, if not closer to Lucy's age. I turn back to the girls, who are talking about how great this week is going to be. They say it’s going to be awesome, and I quickly agree before Mapi nudges me.

"What?" I groan.

"You're the one she's calling 'sweetheart.'"

"What are you talking about?"

I frown, following her nod toward Lucy. She’s waiting for me a little farther away, shaking our room key.

"Oh," I say, blushing. "See you later, then."

"Yeah, sure," my best friend mocks.

I grab my suitcase and roll it over to Lucy. She tilts her head and holds out her hand when I reach her. I take it without thinking.

"Did you call me 'sweetheart'?" I ask, feeling shy.

"Hmm," she smiles. "Do I not have the right?"

"Yes, yes," I say, blushing again. "It’s just new."

"True," she laughs. "I can stop giving you nicknames if you prefer."

"Oh no, no. I like it. It was just... unexpected."

"Alright," she laughs. "I'll make sure to continue if you like it. Come on, let’s go up."

"And the others?"

"We're meeting at the restaurant at 6:30."

"Oh, okay."

I glance back at the others for a moment before following Lucy to the elevators. She calls one with a button.

"Do you know if our rooms are next to each other?"

"I don’t think so, but they’re on the same floor."

"And where are we?"

"Room 322, on the third floor."

"Cool."

We step into the elevator, letting go of each other's hands as we turn around. I catch a glimpse of the lobby, where I notice the young receptionist watching us with a new look of embarrassment when I catch him.

"The girls think the receptionist has a crush on me," I share with amusement.

"Oh really?" she smiles. "Too bad for him that you're already taken."

I smile as she pulls me close and kisses me just as the doors close. Oh yes, I’m already taken by the most wonderful person. The doors open to our floor. We easily find our room, which Lucy unlocks. She had shown me photos on the computer, but the reality is much better. It's beautiful. Like the lobby, the room has a chalet style. Everything is made of oak wood, with anthracite gray walls that contrast with the light wood beams. It’s not very big, which makes the space feel cozy. I’m thrilled to share it with Lucy for a whole week. A huge bed, which looks super comfortable, takes up the middle of the room. Opposite it, there’s a TV mounted on the wall that I can’t resist touching.

"Don’t touch everything," Lucy scolds.

"But look, it moves."

I tilt it from right to left to show my discovery, making Lucy laugh.

"I know, baby," she says, taking off her jacket and placing it on top of her suitcase.

Ignoring her, I continue exploring the room. We have a sitting area with a sofa and an armchair, and there’s even a small terrace. When I turn around, I quickly join Lucy, who is in the bathroom. It’s slightly bigger than the one Lucy has at Camp Wiegman. There are double sinks, a shower, and even a large bathtub. I can already see myself relaxing in there. Lucy’s arms wrap around me from behind. I smile as she unzips my jacket. I lean into her to make it easier.

"A whole week just for us," she murmurs.

"Yeah."

I’m living in pure bliss. I step away slightly so she can slide my jacket off my shoulders. I take off my scarf myself and take my jacket to place it with my suitcase, which I had left by the door.

"Shall we unpack?"

"If you want, but there’s only one wardrobe."

"Is that a problem?"

I bite my lip, shaking my head. Oh no, not a problem at all. It’s more like a dream come true.

"No... We can share it."

"Good," she smiles. "It’s strange, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, totally," I giggle.

It’s unconventional, just like our relationship. We’re going to experience a lot of firsts here. The first thing is unpacking our things in this wardrobe. When we’re done, we still have a little time before heading down. So I flop onto our bed, spreading out like a starfish.

"Your shoes, sweetheart."

A smile spreads across my face, now that I’ve heard it. The situation doesn’t seem to amuse Lucy as much, judging by the look she’s giving me. I feel like a little kid sometimes.

"What’s making you smile like that?"

"The nickname. My God, the effect it has on me."

She raises an eyebrow with a small amused smile as I laugh.

"That doesn’t change the fact that you need to take off your shoes."

"Say it again, and I’ll take them off."

"That’s called blackmail."

"It’s not much. It’s either that, or you take off my shoes yourself."

"Fine, but it’ll cost you."

I hold out my foot with a silly grin. She takes off one shoe, then the other, letting them drop to the floor. Hers quickly join mine before she unexpectedly lies on top of me. I groan because she wasn’t delicate at all. Luckily, my bruises don’t hurt as much anymore, or I might have screamed in pain. She giggles as she kisses my nose.

"Sorry for being grumpy earlier."

"Don’t apologize. You have the right to be. You didn’t have the best morning," I say as I gently stroke her hair.

"You’re right, but still," she mumbles before sighing contentedly against my neck. "You didn’t need to put up with it."

She kisses my jaw softly before moving down to my neck. If she plans to apologize like this every time, I’m going to tell her she can be grumpy more often. In just a few weeks, she’s already discovered that this is one of my weak spots, at least from what she’s explored. She’s gotten into the habit of inflicting this sweet torture on me whenever she gets the chance in her room. I let out a surprised gasp when I feel her teeth nibbling at my skin before she sucks it between her lips.

"What are you doing?" I panic.

"Something I’ve never done but always wanted to try..."

"You’re not serious!"

I laugh as she continues. I don’t even try to push her away. Her hair tickles the tip of my nose. I let her finish as she soothes the small bite with her tongue. She kisses it before propping herself up on her elbows to admire her work with a proud smile.

"So, are you happy now?" I chuckle.

"Not bad for a first time," she laughs. "At least the receptionist will know you’re taken."

"I think he already figured that out, you know. Is this really the first time you’ve done that?"

"Yeah," she smiles.

"And you should know this is the first time I’ve ever gotten a hickey too."

"Really?" she raises an eyebrow. "I thought Mapi would’ve done that already."

"She did... But not in visible places, you see..."

"I’d rather not know. »

I bite my lip, understanding perfectly. Maybe this isn't the best topic for us to talk about together. She captures my lips one last time before standing up.

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm going to get ready. We need to head down soon," she informs me as she heads into the bathroom.

"Oh..." I sigh. "Maybe we should've taken a vacation just for the two of us after all."

I hear her laugh from the other room, which makes me smile.

"You say that, but you'll be the first one who doesn't want to leave at the end of this week."

"You're probably right."

"I am right," she asserts. "You love spending time with your friends just as much as with me."

"It's frustrating how well you know me."

I hear her laugh again. I decide to join her, leaning against the door frame. She's just closing her makeup bag. She’s put on some lipstick and probably a touch of mascara. I blush, thinking she looks stunning.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks with a teasing smile.

"Nothing... Just that you're very beautiful."

"Thank you. You're not too bad yourself," she compliments me, smiling even more.

I clear my throat as I straighten up. I'm not used to openly expressing what I think, and even less so to accepting compliments. Lucy seems to understand this because she changes the subject.

"Should I leave you the bathroom?"

"Please."

We switch places, and she takes the opportunity to plant a kiss on my lips. She stays by the doorframe while I touch up my makeup. Suddenly, she seems deep in thought.

"What's on your mind?" I ask.

She takes a soft breath and shrugs.

"I feel a bit guilty. I compared you a lot to Kiera at the beginning."

I stop what I’m doing. It's the first time she's mentioned Kiera since the night we got together. I never pushed her because she never did it with me, but I wanted her to bring it up at least once. It’s important that we talk about it. I just didn't expect her to do it now.

"Why feel guilty? I don’t blame you. We’re somewhat alike. We were both junkies," I joke.

She shakes her head and sighs. It seems my joke didn't have the intended effect. I move closer to her and place my hand on her cheek. She lifts her head with a sad expression on her face. I begin to wonder just how much she thought we were alike. Seeing her like this tugs at my heart. The emotions she's experiencing are pure sadness. I don’t know how to react. Normally, she’s the one who reassures me.

"Exactly. I was scared when you’d go home. Kiera never wanted to stop, even after she tried to quit. She kept going back, again and again, and I was so terrified it would be the same with you."

I have tears in my eyes as she begins to cry in front of me. I've never seen her like this. She usually controls her emotions so well. Her broken voice shows me just how deeply all of this affected her. Panicking, I desperately kiss her. My gesture seems to be well received by the way she returns the kiss. I end up pressed against the furniture, and our exchange is rough. I wrap my arms around her neck to pull her closer.

"I'm so sorry," she says between sobs.

"Hey, shh," I say, wiping her tears with my thumbs. "It’s okay, alright? Please stop, or I'll start crying with you."

She chuckles, resting her forehead against mine. I realize she just needed to let it all out.

"I'm not Kiera. It’s not your fault that she didn’t want to be saved. I promise you, drugs and I are definitely over. You’re the only thing I could ever want—"

I stop, realizing what I’ve just said. Did I really just say that? Lucy laughs, making me aware of the weight of my words.

"I-I... That’s not what I meant," I stammer, blushing.

"Yes, it is what you meant," she teases.

"It’s embarrassing," I say, looking everywhere but at her, which makes her laugh.

"Baby, I’d be worried if you didn’t want me or if you were thinking about someone else... That’s not the case, right?"

"No," I chuckle. "You’re the only one."

"Hmm..." she says with a playful tone. "You’d better be."

I gasp when she tugs on my earlobe. Unintentionally, I rise onto my tiptoes. She takes advantage of it to press me harder against the furniture. She moves down to my neck, continuing her sweet torture. Damn, she’s good at this. I realize our situation when a moan escapes me.

"I— Luce... Please."

My desperate plea makes her stop immediately.

"Are you okay?"

"I... Yeah... I-I just need to finish up so we don’t end up late."

She smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Sorry, I got carried away."

"Oh no, don’t worry."

"No, I’m sorry. I promised to take it slow, and I intend to keep that promise."

I sigh, nodding. She noticed my struggle, and I feel a bit guilty.

"If it’s something you want—"

"No," she shakes her head. "We don’t need to rush things. You went through a tough time, so we’ll take it slow. Anyway, we’ve only been together for two weeks. We need to get to know each other."

"You’re right."

"As always," she smiles.

She kisses me before pulling away suddenly, leaving a void I never thought I’d feel.

"Hurry up and finish. The quicker we’re downstairs, the sooner we can get back to our bed."

I smile, watching her leave. I guess that means our conversation is over. I quickly finish getting ready before joining her in the bedroom to put my shoes back on.

"Can I borrow a sweater? I’m starting to get cold."

"You didn’t bring one?"

"I’d like one of yours if you don’t mind," I say, biting my lip.

"Of course not. Help yourself," she says, nodding toward the wardrobe.

I quickly find a plain black wool cardigan that matches my sweater. Once I’m ready, we finally leave our room hand in hand. Lucy keeps the keys, and I fully intend to let her take care of that for the entire trip. I’d probably lose them. We arrive in the lobby. Lucy guides me toward the hotel restaurant with her hand on my waist. It’s the first time we can act as a couple in a week, and I plan to savor these moments.

"Have you been here before?" I ask her curiously.

"We came here last year. We liked it so much that we decided to come back."

"Did you bring someone...?"

"I was in a relationship, but no."

I don’t hide my pleasure. I’m the first person she’s brought here. I feel special. A waiter greets us upon our arrival. Lucy asks for the table that Jenni reserved for us. Once he finds it, he leads us there. Only Jenni and Alexia are already seated.

"I thought you’d be the first ones here," Jenni says. "You’re slipping, Luce," she teases.

"I have a girlfriend who’s not very punctual," she laughs.

"Hey! It wasn’t my fault this time! Besides, we’re on time, and it’s been a long time since I was last late."

"Thanks to whom?" she brags.

"I’m not going to respond to that provocation."

She chuckles as I slide onto the bench next to Alexia. Lucy takes the last available spot on the bench.

"Did you two get settled in well?" Jenni asks.

"It seems they did..." Ale hints with a smug smile.

I don't immediately understand where she's going with this until I see her staring at my neck. I blush and pull up the collar of my cardigan to hide Lucy's hickey. I regret not thinking to bring a scarf. Her smile widens, but she doesn’t say anything that might make us uncomfortable. We start chatting while waiting for the others. Lucy has decided to stick close to me tonight. Her hand rests on my thigh. I take advantage of this position by leaning into her as she talks mostly to Jenni. It’s clear they share a deep bond by the way they interact. Her friends gradually join us, bringing with them a lively atmosphere. Of course, the last ones to arrive are Mapi and Ingrid, who sit across from us.

“Now you know why I’m always late,” I say to Lucy. “Mapi’s the one who made me like this.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey, Lucy, instead of criticizing me, can we talk about how you went wild on my best friend? You're lucky she let you. I didn’t get that kind of treatment.”

I kick Mapi under the table, and she doesn’t hide her pain. I can’t believe she’s talking so openly about our relationship in front of our two girlfriends.

“Did you two date?” Aitana asks.

“Yeah, we were together, and I’m kind of annoyed to know that some people get more privileges than others!”

This time, she gets a smack on the back of the head from Ingrid.

“You're playing with fire, Girl. You’d better drop this conversation if you don’t want to sleep on the floor tonight.”

I bite my lip to suppress a smile when I see Mapi’s dismayed expression. This relationship must be quite different for her compared to her previous ones. Contrary to what I might have thought, Ingrid isn’t someone who can be easily pushed around. It’s surprising because I’ve always known Mapi as the dominant one in her relationships. That was the case with me, as she initiated everything, and I got the impression it was the same with Ana.

“Sorry, honey.”

“Hmm... Sure.”

“Hey, relax, guys,” Ale interjects. “Aren’t we here to have a good time?”

The girls across from us remain slightly tense until a waiter arrives to take our order. It’s the receptionist from this morning. He smiles at me timidly, but I don’t pay much attention.

“What are the specials again?” Ingrid asks.

“Uh, well…”

He flips through his little notebook. I deduce he’s a trainee from the way he’s handling things. He lists all the specials he’s noted down. Some of them sound pretty good.

“The first one was white wine, right?” Mapi asks.

“Yes, that’s correct,” he replies. “It’s slightly sweet, if that’s what you like.”

“Oh! That’s for us, Ona!” she exclaims, looking at me.

“Umm... Yeah.”

“That’ll be two glasses of white wine for the two of us,” Ingrid starts, pointing to Mapi and herself.

Everyone else makes their choices. The girls all opt for beers. Alexia orders the same as the girls, and then it’s our turn. I’m also tempted by the wine, but I’m not sure Lucy would appreciate me drinking alcohol.

“Scratch the glasses and bring us a bottle of white wine with five glasses,” Lucy beats me to it.

I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She smiles at me, gently stroking my hair.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Would you prefer something else?”

“Oh no, no… I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“As Alexia said, we’re here to enjoy ourselves, right?”

“You’re right... Thank you.”

She smiles before kissing me. It’s the first time she’s kissed me in front of her friends, so it throws me off a bit. When we pull apart, the waiter has disappeared, and the others have resumed their conversation. We join in until the waiter returns with our drinks. I’m so caught up in my conversation with Ale and Mapi that I don’t notice him. But then a cold liquid splashes onto my thighs, making me jump.

“Sh-shit, shit, shit!” the waiter mutters under his breath. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident!”

“Damn it…” I sigh, standing up.

Drops are dripping onto the floor; I’m that soaked. He spilled the entire bottle on me. I’m going to smell like wine all evening because of him. Luckily, I’m not wearing anything white. Another waiter who saw the scene quickly comes over to scold the trainee, who starts to panic.

“I’m sorry, I’ll help you,” he says, stepping forward.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lucy intervenes, gently pushing him away.

I give him a sympathetic smile to reassure the trainee a little after my girlfriend’s attitude. On the other hand, I’m relieved that Lucy stepped in. It’s not like I would have been comfortable with strangers touching me. He takes a few steps back with a crestfallen look while Lucy wipes my pants with napkins.

“Please excuse him, miss. He’s new, still in training. He’ll be severely punished, I assure you.”

“It was an accident; it happens,” I say to lighten the mood.

I lower my eyes to Lucy, who sighs. Our eyes lock immediately. For a moment, I fear that grumpy Lucy is back. I run my hand through her hair at the nape of her neck to relax her. Her muscles do indeed loosen under my hand.

“You need to change. Otherwise, you’ll reek of alcohol all night.”

“Okay, I’ll go up.”

“Can we at least get the cost of a dry cleaning for her clothes?” she asks the waiter.

“Of course, and we’ll bring you a new bottle and offer a second one as compensation.”

“Good. So I suppose this young man won’t need to be fired if that’s what you were planning.”

The waiter simply nods in response to Lucy’s request. I don’t know much about the restaurant or hotel industry, but when something like this happens in movies, it’s usually the punishment that’s expected for the person. So I’m glad my girlfriend took the initiative and saved him from that. I wouldn’t have wished it on him.

“Alright,” she sighs. “Let’s go up.”

I take her hand that she offers and let her lead us out of the restaurant before she changes her mind. We head back to our room. I didn’t expect her to accompany me, but it’s nice of her. The first thing I do when the door shuts is kiss her. She growls, gently pushing me away.

“Take off your clothes before you jump on me.”

“I won’t comment on that innuendo.”

“It’s not my fault you have a dirty mind,” she challenges with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure,” I giggle, unbuttoning my jeans.

I sit down to remove them along with my shoes. I also take off Lucy’s cardigan, which got splashed.

“Can I jump on you now?”

She laughs, leaning in to kiss me again.

“You’re a hopeless case, Miss Batlle.”

“And you’re one to talk? I saw the way you looked at the waiter as we were leaving.”

“He deserved it,” she defends herself. “It’s the least after what he did to you.”

“He’s probably traumatized, poor guy.”

“Whatever. I saved his job, didn’t I? Now, hurry up and change so we can go back down.”

“Hmm... You know you don’t have to worry about him, right?” I ask as I head to our closet.

“Of course. Stop thinking I’m jealous of everyone,” she rolls her eyes, making me giggle.

I put on a new pair of jeans and end up changing into a warmer sweater to replace Lucy’s cardigan. When I’m done, I turn to see Lucy waiting for me on the bed, head tilted. She’s irresistible the way she looks at me. I’m really glad that almost all the scars Korbin gave me have disappeared. I can finally feel at least a little bit pretty for her. I join her to put on my shoes.

“Sorry about your cardigan.”

“There’s no need to apologize. We’ll just send everything to the dry cleaners.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know you were such a good negotiator.”

“Now you know,” she smiles. “Let’s head back down.”

I steal a kiss from her before we return to the restaurant. Everything has been cleaned up, and the bottles have been brought out for the girls’ enjoyment. The evening continues as usual until a discreet throat-clearing interrupts us. We all turn towards the receptionist, who looks like he’s in a state of panic.

“I-I wanted to apologize,” he starts, staring at his feet. “Th-that accident shouldn’t have happened… I didn’t mean to offend you or do my job poorly. I was clumsy a-and…”

The poor guy is scared to death. I imagine it’s his boss who sent him over.

“I-I also wanted to thank you for saving my job…”

“There’s no problem,” I reassure him warmly. “It’s already ancient history.”

“We’ll have the clothes returned to you tomorrow morning,” Lucy tells him.

“No, don’t worry about it. The housekeeper will take care of it when she cleans your room tomorrow morning. They’ve already been informed.”

He seems to relax since Lucy spoke. A friendly exchange takes place between them. He then leaves with a small smile on his face. That conversation must have reassured him. Our first evening resumes when a new waiter comes over to take our orders. I get the feeling we’ve become some sort of VIPs.

We were quickly served, and they offered us the aperitif. Conversations resumed about the activities we could do during our stay. I can tell we're going to have an amazing time with everything there is to do here. I plan to make the most of it, especially since this is our first vacation together with Lucy.

[eddiemunsonappreciationsociety]

SPENCER REID BODYGUARD AU FANFIC

As I step into my house I’m aware that someone is here immediately. My heart picks up pace as I take the can of mace from in my bag, I try to get my hands to stop shaking as I peer around the doorframe into my kitchen. My heart briefly drops when I see a tall man sitting at my breakfast bar drinking tea. His floppy brown hair falls into his face.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?” I yell at him, waving the can of mace in front of me.

I bark at the stranger, tall and handsome and not meant to be sat in my fucking kitchen like he owns the place.

“So you haven’t spoken to Mr Smith yet,” he sighs.

“My dad sent you?”

“Yes, I’m Mr Reid, your new security detail”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am, Miss Smith”

“I am not a child I don’t need to be looked after,”

“Well, I’m afraid your dad doesn’t agree” he shrugs.

I start to rifle through my bag, trying to find my phone. I’m too mad and my bags too full of crap. I start to get frustrated when the tall stranger shoves his phone at me.

“It’s your father,”

I grab his phone off of him

“Dad, what the fuck?”

“I didn’t tell you earlier because I knew you’d flee,” my dads raspy voice travels through the phone “You’re going to go with my friend Mr Reid and he’s going to take you on a nice holiday,”

“He’s what?”

“My plane is going to take you and your new shadow to a nice little island and you’re going to take some time away where it’s safe,”

“This is fucking kidnap,”

“No darling, I’m trying to prevent exactly that happening,” his voice is soft

“Again,” I mutter sharply

“Yes, again” he sounds defeated “please, just go for a few weeks, see it as a holiday, it’s a beautiful villa by the sea, whatever you want I’ll get sent to you”

I don’t respond, my heart is racing and I feel sick.

“Darling, please”

It’s not often Tony Smith begs for anything.

“For how long?”

“A few weeks, maybe longer,”

I manage to stop the scream that wants to ring out of me. The audacity. He’s the reason I’m in danger anyway. Sure, when you’re one of the worlds biggest drug dealers it seems great and the moneys good but people hate you and want to hurt you and have what you have. They take daughters of drug dealers. I find my mind slipping back a little and I shake my head clear of the thoughts. I glance at the bodyguard, he’s dressed in smart trousers, shirt and tie.

“I’m not happy about this, and this guy you’ve hired: have you met him? He looks like a geography teacher. He’s wearing a bloody cardigan,”

Mr Reid finds this amusing, I see him smirk but he tries to hide it by walking away.

“I’ve met him and I know his reputation, you be nice to him,”

“Whatever, how long have I got?”

“Pack now, it’s hot, you leave in an hour. And you leave your phone there”

“I’m not leaving my phone”

“Mr Reid will give you a new one, but it’s restricted. You can’t let anyone know where you are.

“You’re the fucking worst, I’m not going,”

“Yes, you are. This isn’t optional, you will go nicely or you will be taken forcefully. Either way you’re getting on that plane. Go and pack, don’t think you’d like what the geography teacher would bring you.”

I hang up on my dad and hand the phone back to the bodyguard. He takes it and holds his hand out.

“What?”

“Your phone too,”

“We’re not going yet,”

“Give me your phone,” he says if slowly, demanding.

I slam it into his hand and turn on my heel, heading to my room.

I try to clear the rage from me and think about what I actually need to pack. I throw a bunch of clothes, some books and my Switch into a suitcase. My makeup, skincare and other toiletries go in another.

After trying to streamline what I thought of as a full, big life, it feels depressingly small. I pack a total of three suitcases and am still have time to sit in the edge if my bed and have a slight panic attack.

My new bodyguard comes half way through my freak out.

“Cars here, are you okay?”

“I'm kind of freaking out,”

“Yeah, no doubt. Let’s both panic on the plane though,”

I watch him take a seat opposite me on the plane and he smiles, looking around with an almost nostalgic look on his face.

“What?” I ask as I catch his eye

“Been a while since I’ve been on one of these,” he shrugs.

“You had a jet?” I try not to sound bitchy but that’s clearly impossible.

“No, we had one for my old job” he seems unphased.

“What did you do?”

“Oh, we’ve got a while together Miss Smith, let’s not use up all the small talk at once,” he grins at me.

“That’s fine by me,” I shrug and put my headphones in

[f1byjessie]

A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part twelve.

The first coherent thing you say the morning after, as you tug your sweatshirt back over your head and resolutely ignore the sculpted planes of Lando’s abdomen while he lounges in bed and watches you, is: “This can never happen again.”

He makes an inquisitive sound. “Can this maybe wait until I’m actually awake?”

You look over your shoulder just in time to catch him yawning into his elbow, and for half a second find the drowsiness to be endearing━ the way his knuckles rub languidly at his half-lidded eyes, his scratchy morning voice, and the wild case of bedhead that’s got his curls sticking up in every direction. It’s only when your gaze finds and latches onto the dark bruise sucked onto his collarbone that you remember you can’t be entertaining this anymore than you already have, adorable sleepy morning habits be damned.

“Lando.”

At his name, he opens his eyes again and meets your stare.

“This━” you gesture between yourself and him, “━can never happen again.”

You do feel sympathetic for trying to have what’s intended to be a serious conversation so early in the morning, especially when he’d really only been woken up by you practically throwing yourself out of bed, but the gravity of the situation had slammed into you the moment you’d opened your eyes to see his peacefully slumbering face across from yours.

There isn’t actually a clause in your contract that forbids you from entering a romantic relationship with anyone else on the team━ technically, there aren’t any mentions at all about anti-fraternization rules━ but just the thought of how badly this could fuck things up for the both of you has you preemptively planning to take an ibuprofen or two the minute you make it back to your own hotel room in preparation for the nasty headache you’re sure to get.

Firable offenses aside, McLaren could just as easily cite some other reason to decide not to renew your contract at the end of the year if they deem the “partnership” between you and Lando to be too detrimental to his performance ability. You might be a good photographer, but Lando’s a great driver and he’s certainly more valuable to the team than you are. He’s a one of a kind, and you’re one of plenty in a market saturated with young talents desperate for a chance to make it big.

On top of that, you’re not even sure how ethical it is to sleep with your coworker, all things considered. It’s your job to follow him around every week and take pictures that you plaster all over social media. You’ve already gotten a glimpse of how difficult things can be in the midst of an argument, but if things turn serious━ assuming, of course, that Lando is after something serious and that this isn’t just a bit of fun meant to keep him entertained with the added convenience that you’ll be traveling with him for the foreseeable future━ what sort of added ramifications would an argument have then? You’re not sure the professionalism the two of you have managed the last few weeks prior to making up would be able to survive a messy breakup.

“You’re spiralling,” he comments, sliding out from beneath the covers of the bed. He’s very nonchalant about his nakedness.

You avert your eyes.

“So maybe it’s morally grey territory,” he continues, leisurely collecting his clothes from where they wound up strewn across the floor after being discarded amidst the night’s activities. “But we’re both consenting adults━” he tugs his sweatpants back on, “━and so long as we both stay consenting adults I don’t see what the problem is. I don’t really have any plans to be magically turned into a baby anytime soon. Unless you did?” 

You stare at him incredulously, ignoring the fact that he’s still shirtless and now that he’s standing and facing you it gives a clear view of all the hickeys painted across his skin. Hickeys that you left there, and that you can remember leaving there despite attempting to shove the memories down and forget them.

He stares right back.

“In case you suddenly forgot, I’m supposed to be in a committed and exclusive relationship with someone else,” you hiss.

“Yeah, but it’s not real. You aren’t actually dating him,” he answers back with a shrug. “It’s a PR stunt, you said.”

You don’t actually care about Garrett Ward or the fake claim of faithfulness between the two of you. If there weren’t guaranteed to be nasty consequences for you, you’d let the staged relationship crash and burn in a blaze of vengeful glory. But that’s exactly what’s stopping you━ the consequences. It isn’t just your reputation on the line like it would be if you were some no-name fan who somehow managed to score lucky. If you go down, your career goes with you and that also means waving goodbye to Lando and Formula One as a whole.

Even if you managed a miracle and didn’t lose your job, the media would not look favorably upon you. At best, there would be a smattering of fans from people like Jack and Lando speaking up on your behalf who would defend you for a month or two, maybe a media outlet with a more present stance on women in sports would try to lessen the blow if the right people said the right thing. But the reality is that you could sit down and regale the whole story about Garrett’s blackmail━ starting from the very first call asking you to dinner and detailing the proof of his threats and manipulation━ and there would still be people out there painting you as the villain in his story.

You’d be designated another “bitch” who ruined the career of a perfectly good athlete, and they’d speculate into your motives, into why you chose to tear him down. It would discredit the actual wrongness of Garrett’s own actions and instead pin the blame on you and your jealousy. Or, whatever else they’d attribute it to.

So no, you don’t care about Garrett Ward or his rotten excuse for a heart. His feelings can go fuck themselves for all you care. But even still…

“The public doesn’t know that, Lando,” you start to explain. “I can’t be seen with you because, fake or not, do you know how horribly it would end for me if I were painted as some adulterous slut? They already tore me to pieces just because I was with him in the first place, can you imagine how bad it would be if it got out that I’d supposedly cheated on him? Do you know how much meaner these people would get if they somehow believed they’d been proven right about me? That the things they were saying were right all along?”

He’s silent now.

“There’s a reason I haven’t tried to get myself out of this situation already,” you continue, beginning to pace the length of the hotel room. “Like I told you yesterday, even if he makes his claims and I manage to prove him wrong, the damage to my reputation would ruin me. I’m lucky that I had McLaren to come back to and that’s what made it easier to push back on his demands, but can you imagine if I didn’t have anything lined up after that City gig? I would’ve been even more desperate to get any sort of work and Garrett absolutely would’ve capitalized on that. And I can’t keep banking on the fact that McLaren will save the day because what if one day they don’t?”

Lando crosses the distance between you and rests his hands on your shoulders, bringing your harried pacing to a stop. He looks like he’s about to give you a pep talk, and the absurdity of the thought is almost enough to make you forget about the seriousness of this entire situation and laugh. Almost. You are, unfortunately, still painfully aware of the line you’re now walking and how terrifyingly thin it is.

“McLaren would never get rid of you, so you don’t have to worry about that,” he says after a moment.

“You don’t know that,” you tell him, shaking your head and pulling free from his grasp to resume your nervous treading in another section of the room. “You can’t know that. Honestly, the backlash this could have would probably be enough to get McLaren to fire me on the spot. If not immediately, then there’d at least be enough harassment from Garrett’s fans for them to eventually decide letting me go would be the best course of action for the sake of their own reputation.”

He crosses the distance between you again, and this time pulls you into his arms entirely. He’s still warm from being beneath the covers and you soak up the comfort as much as he’s allowing you to, burying your face into the crook of his neck and reciprocating his hug by wrapping your own arms around him and grabbing at the back of his shirt.

“Obviously, this is something you’ve thought about a lot,” he starts, running his fingers up and down your back soothingly. “And it clearly stresses you out. But I really like you, Y/N. Honestly, it’s embarrassing. I’ve fancied you since I met you. You walked in and it was like one of those dumb romcoms you’ve made me watch. I just… I just knew. And I wanted you to like me, too.”

You hum in acknowledgement and sag deeper into him, clutching tighter at his shirt. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because you hated me,” he answers simply with a tiny shrug. “Or, at least, I thought you did. And then you didn’t, but we were still so new to being friends that I didn’t want to do anything to fuck it up. I got so anxious thinking about what would happen if we broke up. It would ruin the friendship, but it would also potentially ruin your career if we couldn’t both do our job and I didn’t want to fuck that up for you. So, I was content to just have you close, honestly. That was enough.”

“Until it wasn’t?”

He sighs. You feel the rise and fall of his chest more than you actually hear it. “Garrett Ward is a raging prick and I stand by all the things I’ve said about him, but maybe some of it was influenced by me thinking he’d taken you away from me. And, when I called you that night piss drunk at Daniel’s, I was projecting the anger I felt towards myself onto the people around me. I didn’t take any risks, and because of that I was convinced that I’d lost you in every way that mattered.”

He holds you a bit tighter, “And we know how I handled that.” It’s quiet and he sounds miserable. You pull back just enough to see him looking piteously out the window, a pained look painted across his features.

You release your hold on his shirt and trail your hands across his body until you can grab his face and turn his gaze back on you.

When he’s staring into your eyes, you say, “I want this, Lando. You and me. I really do, I promise. But I can’t.”

His face falls. “If you let his influence over you control every aspect of your life, then hasn’t he already won? He’s gotten what he wanted. He doesn’t need you to be desperate for a job, because he has control over you anyway.”

If it were said in any other context or by any other person, you’d bristle at the accusation that you’re letting Garrett take whatever he wants without at least attempting to put up a fight. You’ve pushed back where you can, where it’s safest, but you have to prioritize your livelihood too and if that means asking how high when he says jump, you’ll do what you must. Not that it feels good to bend to the whims of a man who gets what he wants through fear.

“I just mean━” he hurries to correct himself, as if sensing you offense, “━you shouldn’t have to sacrifice everything that brings you joy just because you’re afraid of what he might do or how the media will perceive it due to his presence in your life. You have every reason to be hesitant to fight back against the power he holds over you, you just shouldn’t have to be.”

You pull him back in and sink into his arms again, pressing your face into his chest to hide the shine of tears in your eyes.

“I can’t promise that there won’t be backlash,” he continues. “But I can tell you that McLaren will stand behind you. I’ll make sure of it. And if they don’t, I’ll walk.” He says it likes it’s nothing━ like he isn’t saying he’ll give up everything he’s worked for just for you. “I can get you a really nice lawyer, too. If you’d want one. Or, you know, if you’d want to come out about what all Ward’s done.”

The idea sounds impossible and yet it’s so close━ close enough that Lando is practically offering it to you on a silver platter. The idea of just coming out with it all and exposing the horrible things Garrett has done. You know on top of Lando’s support, Jack and the other Manchester City boys would side with you, too, and the other members of the team behind the scenes who you worked closely with throughout your time at Etihad Campus. It’s a lot of people, and by proxy you’d probably have a large amount of their fanbase as well.

It seems too good to be true.

But Lando’s offering you the chance to make it a reality.

“I’m supposed to still be mad at you right now,” you mumble into his shirt.

He huffs out a laugh, “Being mad at someone and being in love with them aren’t mutually exclusive feelings.”

“Who said anything about being in love with you?” You tease, though you’re practically melted into his arms.

“I mean,” he starts, and just from the sound of his voice you can tell he’s about to say something stupid and cheeky and it’ll make you want to slap him upside the head. “The way you treated me last night kind of implies that you at least like me pretty seriously.”

You groan in feigned annoyance, pulling away from him just in time to catch the dazzling grin splitting his face. It’s a beautiful sight that you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of no matter how many times you see it. You recall the caption of a post made what feels like ages ago, but the words ring just as true now as they did then, and you stand by them. A smiley Lando is the best Lando.

“If we’re really doing this,” you start, somberly after another moment, “we have to be careful. Like, really careful. No PDA in public. No PDA anywhere unless we know for a fact that we’re alone and there aren’t any cameras. And no telling anyone unless we absolutely have to for health or security reasons, or something. We can’t have this blow up on us, because if they catch you you’ll be just as much of a target for the hate and I will not have you get caught in the crossfire with this, Lando.”

He finagles around a bit until your hands are held in his and he’s pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I promise,” he whispers against your skin.

It feels like the start of something perfect.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by user, user, and 561,816 others

footballfansofficial BREAKING: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward, a victim of infidelity?! Ward and his girlfriend Y/N L/N first revealed their romance to the world on the 5th of January. Since then, they’ve regularly shared photos of one another across the social media platform Instagram, and have been sighted on dates around Manchester and London. Though the couple have not recently shared any new posts of one another, fans believed this was due to schedule differences, as nothing has been said to indicate an end to their relationship. With the Champions League back in full swing, Ward has been constricted to a busy schedule of matches in Europe, and similarly as a photographer for Formula One team McLaren, L/N has been traveling across the globe. However, she’s apparently more than just friends with McLaren driver Lando Norris! Pictures from the 24th of March at the Australian Grand Prix in Melbourne reveal L/N and Norris sharing an intimate moment. Check the link in our bio for the full article!

view all 19,815 comments

user oh… that’s not….

user that is NOT garrett ward for sure 🫢🫢

user honestly a cheating scandal was not on my 2024 bingo card

↳ user i mean i’m not surprised but i definitely thought of the two of them it would be ward tbh 👀

user WHAT DID WE FUCKING SAY

↳ user WE ALL SAW THIS FROM A MILE AWAY

user fucking slag 🙄

user ugh!!! us REAL garrett ward fans KNEW this would happen but everyone called us crazy!!! 😠😠 he deserves someone who ACTUALLY cares about him and we knew from the beginning that she wasn’t it!! honestly just the thought that anyone could POSSIBLY do this is SICKENING!!! garrett is such a loving person and he deserves the WORLD!! i hope he doesn’t let this stop him from finding REAL love some day!! 🥺🥺🫶🫶

↳ user ikr?!?! it’s so not fair that he’d choose her when she’d just use and abuse him when he has so many loyal fans that would treat him so much better and would actually love him and all he has to offer. she totally must’ve manipulated him or something!!

user damn… i wasn't l/n’s biggest fan in the beginning but i kinda hoped she’d prove me wrong… yet here we are…

user this is seriously so disappointing to see

user SLUT 🤬 SLUT 🤬 SLUT 🤬

user long distance is not an excuse to cheat and this is such a horrible thing to do to a partner. garrett ward has been exceptionally nice to her, and this is what she gives in return? so many ppl tried to warn him about her closeness to lando norris too. i’m disappointed but not surprised that this was the result. girls like this truly have no shame and no dignity. they don’t know loyalty at all.

↳ user we tried to warn him and this is what happens? like we tried, but you ignored us and called us crazy. make it make sense 😮‍💨

↳ user the fact that he was genuinely so sweet by taking her on dates and posting her on his socials and she turns around and stabs him in the back like this… my heart hurts for how upset he must be right now. and honestly, this lando norris guy is just as much to blame for garrett’s pain too.

↳ user i’m willing to give norris the benefit of the doubt if only because we’ve seen girls like this before who manipulate athletes into giving her what she wants and if they don’t then they move onto the next. obviously ward wasn’t going to just roll over for her every whim, so now she’s moving onto the next guy and is trying to manipulate him the same way she did ward. norris is as much of a victim as ward is.

user WHORE BEHAVIOUR I CALLED IT FROM THE GET GO GUYS

user she really said “hold my beer” and went to go prove us all right about our initial assumptions 👀👀

user knew i should’ve trusted my instincts when they told me she was bad news…

user AINT NO WAY INFAMOUS WOMANIZER GARRETT WARD, AS IN NOTORIOUS CHEATER GARRETT WARD, GOT CHEATED ON BY THE FIRST GIRL HE WAS IN A SERIOUS COMMITTED RELATIONSHIP WITH 😂

user lowkey had high hopes for them bc i gen thought ward garrett was changing his ways and was trying to settle down

↳ user me toooooooo i thought she was gonna be a good influence on him 😔

user can you blame her tho?? you try moaning “garrett” in bed and see how that goes for you

user just because they haven’t said anything about ending their relationship doesn’t mean they haven’t ended it privately! honestly who are we to judge them for not telling the public every detail about their personal lives? this was obviously not a moment intended for us to see and was meant to be shared between l/n and norris, and i honestly find this account in general to be incredibly invasive as most if not all of the photographs the articles are written about are from paparazzi and look as though they were taken without the consent or knowledge of the people in them.

↳ user THANK YOU!! 🙏 i’ve been trying to say that for so long!! speculation is so dangerous and harmful to the very real people that are involved and it can have consequences on them and their careers. these pictures do look very damning, but we’re lacking context into l/n and ward’s lives and we shouldn’t judge anyone involved in this before we have the full story. for all we know, the relationship was ended and this is l/n’s new partner, in which case we should be respectful of her choices to be with someone else and should also respect their privacy and take into consideration the fact that there was probably a reason her and ward didn’t announce a split.

↳ user the only comment of sense on this entire post. istg, some of these ppl just have too much time on their hands and spend it all worrying about the love lives of celebrities that don’t even know they exist. y/n and garrett are both adults and can make decisions for themselves without needing the support or backing of people who don’t actually know anything about them beyond the persona they put on for the public. even if she did cheat, garrett’s a big boy and can take care of himself. he doesn’t need an army of women and girls either half his age or double it coming to his defense. be so fucking for real and maybe go touch some grass while you’re at it.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja @wcnorris @a-disturbing-self-reflection (CLOSED).

━━ a/n: we are back in business! i am very happy with this part and how it turned out. there's a bit of a time skip between pre-season testing and the australian grand prix obviously, but all questions shall be answered in the next part! thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoyed!