#but i was listening to music on my phone again

[inlovewithpandora]

ᥫ᭡ — Just a Pogue

Artists — Rafe Cameron x fem!pogue!reader

Lyrics — Hearing Rafe belittle you to his friends and down play the bond you share leads you to your breaking point.

Music Advisory — Oneshot; all angst, hurt w/ no comfort, slight cursing, based heavily on scene(s) from season four

Duration — 1.7k

Words from Artist — This was a quick and fun fic to write for Rafe! It’s been a while since I wrote an angsty fic so I’m glad to have my toes in the water again, especially for Rafe because he pairs so good with angst! If you have any requests you want to see with Rafe please feel free to send them to my ask box! As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

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When Rafe sent you a text to meet him at the Country Club you were excited, hoping that since he’s asking you to come hang out with him and his friends that he’s finally ready to acknowledge what’s happening between you two. Your relationship has been without a label for a while now, sharing moments that are intimate, intense, and real, making you feel like there’s a true connection with Rafe and that he’ll be officially asking you to be his girlfriend soon.

As you walk from the patio to the inside of the club you see Rafe, Topper, and his girlfriend Ruthie. When you’re about to approach, you pause when you hear your name brought up in their conversation, making curiosity strike you and wonder what they're talking about so you move out of their line of sight but stay close enough so you can hear. “I’m surprised y/n’s your girlfriend.” Ruthie twirls the straw in her drink while looking over at Topper with a slight smirk on her face, purposefully testing the waters to see how Rafe will react. “I mean she’s pretty pogue, isn’t she?”

Rafe scoffs and rolls his eyes as if he finds this whole topic exhausting to talk about. “Listen,” he says with a blank face while shrugging his shoulders and lifting his glass closer to his lips, “just because we hook up doesn’t mean she’s my girlfriend, okay?” He mutters out before glancing around and taking a sip of his drink, clearly uncomfortable with the spotlight on his relationship with you— if you would even call it that. Mentioning your social class and insinuating that you’re his girlfriend makes Rafe feel insecure, especially since in the past he’s always expressed his strong dislike for pogues.

“Right… I’m just saying you sure are together a lot. Wait, has she moved in yet?”

“I’m not living with a pogue, I have standards.” Rafe felt the need to defend himself against this line of questioning and make it known that you’re strictly just a hookup for him, that there isn’t any type of love in his heart for you because you’re a pogue and he just can’t be with someone who’s living in the cut.

The sting of Rafe’s words hits you like a punch in the gut, unraveling every bit of hope you’d been holding onto. You feel knots in your stomach, your heart pounding as you back away, each cruel word echoing in your mind. To him, you’re just a fling—a fun thing he can call up whenever he wants, never someone he’d actually take seriously. All those moments, those stolen kisses and soft words you’d shared, they’d only been games to him. You thought that Rafe finally changed, that his views weren’t so surface level when it came to being a kook or a pogue but it’s clear that he only made you believe those things so he could get in your pants.

You turn and walk back toward your car, your mind reeling as you begin to feel stupid for allowing Rafe into your heart, trusting him with your body, only to find out he never truly cared about you as he claimed. You feel like you were lied to, knowing he feed you with words he knows you wanted to hear and would cling to just so he can get what he wanted out of you.

Over the next few days, Rafe tries to reach out to you, sending you numerous texts and calling your phone more times that you can count, causing each attempt to reignite the anger and pain you feel. He doesn’t know that you overheard his conversation with Ruthie and Topper, but you still ignore all his attempts to get in contact with you and you eventually block him, wanting him out of your life after what hearing what he said.

While you're home trying to take your mind off the whole situation you hear someone banging on your door, making you roll your eyes because whoever it is can’t be that determined to talk to you. When you open the door you see Rafe standing outside, looking at you with a look of confusion and underlying frustration. He doesn’t enjoy being ignored and he doesn’t understand why you’re being weird to him all of a sudden so he decided to pop up at your house and confront you. “Why the hell have you been ghosting me?”

You shake your head, trying to hold back the anger that flares inside you just from the sight of him. “Rafe, please leave me alone, okay? I blocked you for a reason, I don’t wanna talk to you.”

You try to shut the door, not wanting to continue a conversation with him but Rafe’s hand shoots out, stopping it from closing because he wants a more in depth explanation on why you’ve been ignoring him instead of the ‘half-assed’ one you just gave. He stares at you with narrowed eyes, clearly not used to being brushed off by you because since you started talking their hasn’t been a day where you deliberately ignored him. “What’s goin’ on with you? Did I do something?”

A bitter laugh leaves your lips before you allow the anger you feel to rise to the surface and let Rafe know exactly why you’ve been ignoring him. “Yeah, you did. Maybe it has something to do with you telling your friends I’m just a ‘hookup’ and that you’d never live with a pogue since you have so called ‘standards’.”

He blinks feeling thrown off, not seeing the connection in the meaning of your words and where they stem from. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“I heard you at the club, Rafe!” You snap at him, the hurt you’ve been feeling over the past few days spilling over. “I heard you tell them that I’m just some Pogue you’re hooking up with, that I’m not your girlfriend, and that you’d never actually be with someone like me. Like I’m nothing!”

Rafe opens his mouth, struggling to find the right words, but you’re not interested in hearing whatever excuse he’s about to make because you know it’ll just be a lie. “I thought you were different, Rafe. I thought you actually saw me as more than that. But you just needed me to feel good about yourself for a while, right? You just liked having me around when you wanted a good fuck.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he protests, his voice pleading now. “I was just trying to… I don’t know, keep them off my back. They wouldn’t get it.”

You scoff while pinching the bridge of your nose, feeling a fresh wave of aggravation as you realize he really doesn’t get it. “And that’s the problem, Rafe. If you can’t respect me around your friends—if you’re embarrassed of what we have—then you never actually cared.”

He reaches out, trying to grab your hand, but you pull back and take a step away, not wanting to feel his touch after knowing his true feelings about you. “You made me feel like we had something,” you whisper, feeling the sting of tears but refusing to let them fall in front of him. “That we could be an actual couple but you played in my face, Rafe. You told me that you didn’t care that I was a pogue, that you wanted me with you but clearly it was bullshit.”

Rafe’s face shifts from guilt to desperation as he steps closer, his voice softening as he tries to clean up the mess he’s made. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was an fuckin’ idiot, and I shouldn’t have said that. I thought if I downplayed it, I could keep my friends from giving me shit about us.”

“So, you downplay me? Make me sound like I’m nothing to you just to avoid a little judgment? Do you fuckin’ hear yourself, Rafe? You didn’t just protect yourself—you tore me down in front of your friends.”

He looks away, clearly frustrated that his stupid words messed up things between the two of you but he pushes on, wanting to try and make things right. “I get it, okay? I messed up, but it doesn’t change how I feel. It’s just… complicated. You know I care about you.”

You scoff, feeling the weight of his words crushing you all over again. “Complicated? No, Rafe. It’s not complicated—it’s simple. You don’t respect me and you don’t care about me. You never did. And now you want to apologize and act like it’ll erase what you said and make everything better?” Rafe’s face twists with guilt, but his silence only fuels your anger. Every hurtful word he spoke replays in your mind, solidifying your resolve. “Too late, Rafe. You’ve already ruined it.”

He can tell that he’s losing you, that you’re emotionally pulling away from him so he starts pleading with you, not wanting to lose you. “I didn’t mean it. I’ll fix it. Just give me another chance—please.”

“No. You can’t fix it. It’s already done. You’ve made it clear who you are and how you feel about me. I’m not sticking around for whatever mess you’ve got going on in your head just so you can fuck me over again.”

His face falls, his frustration turning into panic. “Please, just let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear anymore, Rafe.” You feel a finality in your mind and a final piece of your heart closing off, deciding not to fall into the trap of Rafe’s words again, knowing that if you do you’ll only hurt your future self when he fucks up again. “I’m not waiting around for you to figure your shit out. I’m done.”

When Rafe is face to face with the door he stands in place frozen, while his heart is hammering inside his chest. The sharp echo of the door slamming reverberates in his ears, a bitter reminder of how badly he’s screwed things up. For a moment, he’s too stunned to move, his mind reeling from the weight of your words and the way you just ended what you had with him.

A deep frustration churns inside him, mingled with guilt and regret. He never thought it would get to this point. He didn’t expect you to shut him out so completely. He knows that he hurt you, but hearing the door slam was like a slap to the face, a loud confirmation that he had lost you. Rafe knows, deep down, that he’s crossed a line he can’t uncross, that it’ll be hard for you to forgive him when the things he said were so harsh.

The realization that his actions have pushed you too far away hits him hard. His chest tightens as the panic sets in, his mind racing with how to fix things, ways of how to make you forgive him, but nothing comes to him. The words “I’m sorry” feel hollow, like a cheap way out. He’s played this game before, but now it feels different. You’re different.

He steps back slowly and walks to his car with his head hanging down, looking back at the door with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. He never meant to hurt you, to make you feel less than but the damage is already done. And now, with you shutting him out, he has no idea if he can ever make things right, if he can ever win his sweet pogue back.

Fanbase — @ietss @shimmeringana @ims1 @anything4yooongi @genesis-p4l-love @oatmealisweird @ilovechickfilasauce @brooklynadoresdior @jordscosplay @taylormarieee @rivivie @shadyshadyy @m-mally @jj-maybank944 @bakugouswaif @princessadaniii8

[mrsfancyferrari]

My Priority

Summary: MV1 + "You're my priority." 🍂🦃

Song: i'm yours by Isabel LaRosa

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.8k

The sun dipped low over the Monaco harbor, casting a golden hue over the sleek yachts and classic buildings. It was race weekend, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

Fans adorned in vibrant team colors filled the streets, while the pit lanes prepared for the moment that would thrill millions around the globe.

Among the horde of dedicated supporters and high-profile personalities were three friends, caught in a whirlwind of competition and camaraderie: Max, Charles and Lando.

Today, he stood in the crowd, his eyes fixed on you—a talented influencer and recently appointed ambassador for the racing team.

With your effortless smile and magnetic personality, you effortlessly drew a gathering of admirers around you, signing autographs and taking cheerful selfies, your laughter ringing like music above the cacophony.

Charles and Lando, seated comfortably on a nearby bench, exchanged knowing glances as they watched Max, who seemed lost in a dreamy haze.

“Look at him,” Lando snickered, leaning back on his hands. “I swear he’s drooling.”

“Max, the biggest simp in Monaco,” Charles teased, suppressing a laugh. “He’s got those hearts in his eyes again.”

Max was clearly oblivious, completely entranced by your graceful presence. He didn’t just admire you; it was as though he had built a world around the very idea of you.

The way you spoke with your fans, how you listened to each story and responded with genuine interest—it captivated him.

“Should we go over and rescue him?” Lando suggested, feigning concern while he grinned. “Or do we let him bask in his hopeless dreams for a little longer?”

“He’ll be fine,” Charles replied, shaking his head. “But maybe we should give him a little push. He wouldn’t take any of this as serious if it were us in front of that crowd.”

“I can’t believe he’s got it this bad,” Lando said, his tone playful, “What spice do you think he would add to the word ‘simp’ if it was his turn to describe it? Charismatic? Earned? I can practically hear his monologue right now.”

Charles laughed, then leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he studied Max. “But seriously, look at him. It’s like watching a puppy. You know he wouldn’t even know what to say to her.”

While they teased Max, he remained entranced. Conscious of his friends’ snickering, he reluctantly stole a glance at them and noticed their laughter.

Realizing what they were up to, he straightened, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Guys! Quit it!” he called out, his voice laced with embarrassment. “I’m just watching!”

“Yeah, watching her while looking like you’re in a personal rom-com,” Lando snickered. “How about a quick flirt, huh? We can’t let those hours of sim racing go to waste, Max!”

“Or we could help you,” Charles added, the corners of his mouth curling into a teasing grin. “I could distract her while you swoop in for a heroic rescue.”

Max rolled his eyes, attempting to shake off their banter, yet a smile tugged at his lips, unable to fully resist the comedic timing of his over-the-top friends.

“You two are ridiculous, you know that? I’d rather drown than ask either one of you for ‘help’.”

“Oh please, it wouldn’t even be asking!” Lando exchanged a knowing grin with Charles. “You’d be thanking us with how epic this moment will be.”

Just as their banter continued, you finished with the last group of fans, standing tall under the sun, blissfully unaware of the trio observing you.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took out your phone, scrolling through your messages.

“Look! She’s free! Go now!” Lando exclaimed, shoving Max lightly.

“What? No! I can't!” Max stuttered, standing rigid, his earlier confidence evaporating.

Charles leaned closer, unfazed by Max’s protests. “You brought this on yourself. You can’t let the opportunity pass you by. Just be yourself.”

“Be myself?” Max echoed incredulously. “What does that even mean? Look at her! She’s amazing. I’m just… me.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Charles replied. “She doesn't want another trophy; she wants someone real. If you don’t go talk to her, you’ll never know.”

With a deep breath, Max took a step back, contemplating the ocean of thoughts that whirled within him. “What if I mess up? Or worse, what if she thinks I’m just a weird guy?”

“Mate! You're the Max Verstappen,” Lando shrugged. “I don't think she'll care.” He winked. “Now go. You could get all the cool points.”

With a silent nod and a rush of adrenaline, Max finally took a step forward. As he approached you, he tried to focus on the words swirling in his mind.

Closer and closer, he felt his heart race—this was it.

You looked up just as he reached you, and your eyes met his. His breath caught, a mix of excitement and nervousness weaving together. “Hey…,” he managed to say, suddenly feeling small in this vast world of possibility.

You smiled brightly, that same warmth radiating from you that had drawn him here. “Hi there! You’re a fan of the team, right?”

Max nodded, wrestling with the best response while standing here, finally face to face with the person he admired yet knew so little about. “Yeah, I mean, um, I—I am.” He swallowed hard. “I saw you with your fans over there, and, um, you were amazing.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “Thank you! I love connecting with them. It’s the least I can do. They make our sport so vibrant and exciting.”

“I can see that,” Max said, feeling the confidence slowly emerging. “Just like you’re making this whole weekend brighter.”

The two of you shared a laugh that alleviated the tension, and with each word, the distance between you lessened. The shimmer of stars began to paint the sky as the sun set, casting a magical glow over the race circuit, where a new chapter began to unfold.

Meanwhile, Charles and Lando watched from a distance, an approving grin plastered on their faces. “Maybe our Max isn’t such a hopeless case after all,” Lando mused, nudging Charles.

“Looks like our little simp might just prove us all wrong,” Charles replied, folding his arms in satisfaction as they witnessed the unfolding moment between you and Max, already knowing it was destined to be a story worth telling.

You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of racing. The revving engines, the smell of burnt rubber, and the exhilaration hanging in the air—every race was a whirlwind of excitement.

As a social media influencer, you had the chance to immerse yourself in this electrifying world, and attending each Grand Prix was like living in a breathtaking dream.

But it wasn't just the races that thrilled you; it was the company you kept, particularly Max.

He was a whirlwind on the track, deftly maneuvering through the chaos of his competitors. Off the track, however, he was refreshingly down-to-earth.

From the moment you met, a strong bond formed—a friendship that quickly evolved into the kind of connection that made fans and onlookers raise their eyebrows with curiosity.

Your camaraderie was vibrant and infectious, turning the drivers’ lounge into your personal arena of chaos where everyone else was a spectator.

“Hey, Max!” you exclaimed, waving as he walked through the driver’s lounge after a particularly grueling race in Miami. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“Y/N! Ready for some ‘maxplaining’?” he teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You mean me doing the yapping, Maxplaining is your job.”

“Touché,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But let’s compare notes on what went wrong today. I have a few things to say.”

You led him to a quieter corner, the hum of the lounge fading as the two of you settled into a rhythm. You were comfortable with each other, like family.

“Okay, admit it,” you began, leaning in conspiratorially. “You totally could have cut that last corner better. What were you thinking?”

Max feigned a horrified gasp. “What do you mean? I was just giving the crowds a show! It’s about the drama, Y/N!”

“Drama?” you chuckled. “More like a slow dance with the wall! Lando warned you, didn’t he?”

Max smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. “Lando is always going on about it. It’s like he thinks he can drive better just because he’s got a fancy new helmet.”

At that, you burst out laughing, imagining Lando prancing around, confidently boasting about helmet aerodynamics while utterly ignoring the zen of driving.

Lando had long since accepted his role in your friendship as the comedic relief, always reminding you both to loosen up amidst the pressure.

As the races sped by from more distant tracks like COTA to the legendary Brazil Grand Prix, your friendship deepened wonderfully, forming an unbreakable bond.

Instagram stories filled with laughter and spontaneous videos of Max’s antics, unfiltered and untamed, all while being followed by millions.

It wasn’t merely a friendship; it was an adventure, one you cherished.

“Oh, I’m definitely maxplaining this one for the Gram,” you declared one day, holding up your phone as Max attempted to juggle a football while simultaneously answering questions from fans.

“Y/N, focus! We need to practice our pre-race rituals, not showcase my juggling skills,” Max replied, though he couldn’t resist the allure of the camera, striking a mock-serious pose.

“Fine, focus mode activated! But I’ll always film your epic fails,” you bantered, capturing him dramatically failing to keep the football afloat.

The moments you shared were infused with invaluable lessons and effortless joy. It was on a chill evening following a hot race that things began to shift for you both.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t racing? Like, normal stuff?” you asked, settling comfortably in a lounge chair, your gaze fixed on the sunset outside the paddock.

Max paused, his expression turning thoughtful. “Sometimes. It’s hard, though. Racing is everything I know—you lose track of reality. But I guess if I weren’t here...” he trailed off, his brow furrowing, “I’d probably be lost.”

“I get that,” you affirmed. “But you’re not just a racer, Max. You’re an inspiration to so many. It’s more than just speed; it’s the grit and passion the fans see.”

A shy smile crept across his face. “And you, Y/N, you’re more than just this influencer. You humanize the sport. You put a face to racing that isn’t just helmets and stats.”

Caught off guard by his sincerity, you felt a flutter in your chest. “Thanks, Max. That means a lot,” you replied, warmth spreading through you.

There was a beat of silence before he continued, “Have you ever thought about how this could go beyond racing?”

Your heart raced. “What do you mean?”

"Nothing," he muttered shyly, his ears went bright red and excused himself to finish his debriefing. . . .

The evening sun cast a warm glow over the park as Max leaned against a nearby wall, scrolling through his phone.

He had been enjoying his time with you, your banter and laughter filling the air, a comfortable rhythm you had established over the weeks.

Yet, beneath the surface of your friendship, Max felt a flicker of something deeper, a burgeoning affection he hadn’t quite dared to voice.

Suddenly, he noticed a figure approaching you—a tall, dark-haired guy who carried himself with an ease that annoyed Max for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate.

As the guy drew closer, he greeted you with a wide smile, and you responded with a tension in your shoulders that sent alarm bells ringing in Max’s head.

"Hey, Y/N!" the guy said, his voice overly cheerful as if he were trying to create an upbeat atmosphere. "Long time no see! How have you been?"

“Uh, hi, Ben,” you replied, your voice lacking its usual vibrancy. “I’ve been… good.” You shifted your weight uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact while fiddling with the strap of your bag.

Max couldn’t hear the rest of your conversation, but he could see your discomfort rise like a tide. Ben leaned in closer, gesturing animatedly with his hands, and Max’s heart raced.

It was clear you wanted to retreat, but Ben seemed oblivious to your disinterest.

Max took a step off the wall, deciding he didn't like the way Ben was invading your personal space. He approached them, a casual yet protective demeanor in his stride.

“Hey, babe! There you are!” he had called out, forcing the brightness into his tone, hoping to drown out the awkwardness hanging in the air.

Your relief was evident as you turned to him with that light that made everything feel right.

“Oh! Maxy, hey!” you exclaimed, that simple greeting sending a jolt of happiness through him.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, a stark contrast to the cloud that overhung your expression when you were with Ben.

“Yeah, I just… um, was catching up with Ben here,” you said, the slight falter in your voice not going unnoticed by Max.

He felt a flicker of protectiveness flare up inside him, and he stepped closer, narrowing the space between you and Ben.

“Ben!” Max called, feigning cheerfulness as he directed his attention to the other guy, whose smile seemed to dim the moment he realized Max had entered the scene. “You’re still talking about high school? What a wild ride that was, right?”

Ben chuckled lightly, clearly irritated with Max's interruption but not wanting to show it. “Yeah, we were just reminiscing about old times,” he replied, shooting you a glance. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you muttered, your gaze darting away, unable to meet either of their eyes.

Max could see you were struggling, trapped in some unspoken tension, but he didn’t want to let you stay there any longer.

“Well, we’ve got our own plans,” Max interjected smoothly, a hint of challenge in his voice as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder gently.

“So, are you ready to grab that smoothie we talked about? The mango one?” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like a conspirator sharing a secret, “I hear it’s worth it.”

You caught his eyes, and in that moment, your gratitude was palpable.

“Yes! I could really go for a mango smoothie right now,” you said, the tension easing from your face as you shifted your weight towards Max, your unexpected ally in this moment.

“Smoothies are great for tackling the past,” Max added with an exaggerated grin at Ben, who now looked like a puppet with its strings cut.

Max felt a thrill of satisfaction watching the other man’s expression sour, knowing you were finally free to escape this uncomfortable confrontation.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Ben forced through gritted teeth, his eyes boring into Max as if trying to figure him out.

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, the practiced politeness in your tone striking a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d shown Max.

Together, you turned away from Ben, the café’s atmosphere lightening as you stepped outside into the warm sun.

Once you reached the sidewalk, your sigh of relief was almost comical. “Thank you for that, Max. I didn’t know how to get away.”

“Anytime,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual while his heart raced. “Ben can be a little… intense, can’t he?”

You laughed, the sound genuine and bright. “Intense is one way to put it. He has a way of making things complicated.”

“He’s... well, we have some history that’s not exactly fun,” you admitted, your expression somber as you waited for your smoothies.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Max asked gently, his heart thumping in his chest.

He didn’t want to push you, but he was curious and concerned at the same time.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your phone. “It was just a complicated relationship. One of those where things started out great, but eventually spiraled into something toxic. It was… hard to let go.”

Max’s expression softened. “I understand. You don’t have to share everything if you’re not comfortable, though. I just want you to know I’m here for you, always.”

You smiled, a genuine light coming back to your eyes. “I appreciate that, Max. I think after all this time, I’ve finally learned what I want in my life. You just being here means a lot.”

“That’s what friends are for, right? And I wouldn’t want anyone to make you feel uncomfortable. You deserve better than that,” Max said, handing you the smoothie.

“Thanks, Max. You really are a great friend.” As you two walked away from the stand, you stole a glance at him, your eyes shining. “You know, I’m really glad to have you in my life.”

Max smiled. He just hoped he was something more to you. . . . .

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon when your phone buzzed unexpectedly. The screen lit up, revealing an incoming call from a number you recognized as belonging to Red Bull Racing's media team.

Your heart raced; you just had been following F1 closely, and your recent friendship with Max Verstappen had garnered its fair share of attention on social media.

You answered the call, curiosity piqued.

“Hey! Is this Y/N?” a cheerful voice greeted on the other end.

“Yes, it is!” you replied, trying to sound composed. “Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Sarah from Red Bull's media team. We’ve been monitoring the amazing fan reactions to the content featuring you and Max. We’d love to capitalize on that momentum,” she explained.

"We’d like to invite you to join Max for a fun game, which we plan to share on our social media. Are you up for it?"

You couldn’t believe it. “Absolutely,”

“Great! We’ll set it up for tomorrow afternoon. You'll both be given ten questions. Some will be about F1, and others will be random. Sound good?”

“Sounds fantastic,” you hung up, excitement bubbling inside.

Who wouldn't want to play a game with one of F1's biggest stars?

The next day, you arrived at the Red Bull Racing headquarters, a breathtaking fusion of sleek modern design and rich motorsport culture.

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with genuine smiles from the team members bustling around, their energy infectious, the air thick with the anticipation that always brewed before a race.

ou could hear the chatter about tire compounds and race strategies, a symphony of excitement that made your heart race.

After a quick cup of coffee—rich and strong enough to zap you awake—you engaged in light banter with a few of the engineers, teasing them about the latest car performance.

Just as you were beginning to feel at home, Olivia, the content manager, came over and ushered me into a bright studio space designed explicitly for video content.

“Ready for some fun today?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

“I’m always ready for fun, especially with Max,” you replied with a grin.

As you entered the studio, you spotted Max Verstappen lounging against a table, his trademark red and blue cap perched backward on his head.

He was scrolling through his phone, but he looked up as you walked in, his face lighting up with a warm grin.

“Hey! Finally, the famous Y/N has arrived!” he exclaimed, his tone playful and welcoming.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Don’t exaggerate, Max. I’m just the guy who occasionally shows up in your videos.”

“Nah, you’re a big deal now! Everyone loves the banter we have,” he insisted, pushing himself off the table and giving you a light punch on the shoulder. “Ready to get this started?”

“Absolutely. Let’s see who knows the other better!” you replied, feeling playful and competitive.

Sarah stepped in, ready to explain the rules. “Alright, everyone! Here’s how it will work. You’ll each take turns asking questions, alternating between F1 trivia and personal ones. Let’s find out just how well you know each other!”

“Sounds good,” Max said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ladies first.”

“Alright, Max,” you said, preparing to razz him with your first question. “What’s my favorite food?”

He crossed his arms, a teasing glint in his eyes. “That’s easy—pasta! But the way you always go on about it makes it seem like you think you’re Italian.”

You burst out laughing, caught off guard by his accuracy. “Damn! You’ve been paying attention,” you replied with mock disbelief. “But just wait till you get yours.”

“Bring it on!” He replied, leaning in with an eager grin.

You took a deep breath and decided to up the ante. “Okay, here’s an F1 trivia question. What year did Red Bull Racing first win the Constructors’ Championship?”

Without missing a beat, he said, “2010,” You raised an eyebrow. “Impressive!”

Then it was Max’s turn. He leaned closer, an intensity in his gaze. “What’s the last concert you went to?”

You paused for a moment, recalling the memory. “It was a Coldplay concert last year. They were amazing!”

The questions flowed naturally, and laughter filled the room as the banter turned to playful teasing. Each time he got an answer right, there was a spark—a moment of connection that seemed to linger in the air a second too long.

You caught him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his expression both challenging and curious.

“Okay, okay, I have one for you,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, as if ready to break some sacred bond. “What do I like to do on my days off?”

You squinted, trying to remember the few times the team had shared off days together. “Uh, you like spending time with your cats, and you also love to do sim racing?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Close! I do love spending time with sim racing, but I also spend too much time playing FIFA. You should’ve known that!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, your turn! What’s my guilty pleasure?”

Max smirked, a glint of mischief swirling in his gaze. “You’re definitely a sucker for reality TV. Pretty sure I’ve caught you watching Love Island USA a couple of times.”

“Guilty as charged!” you admitted, laughing along with him. “But I can defend my choices if you want—ahem, it’s simple entertainment!”

His lighthearted ribbing felt warm and right, and the camaraderie between the two of you had grown into a familiar rapport almost effortlessly.

As the Q&A continued, you both slowly drifted into laughter punctuated by thoughtful pauses where a silence spoke volumes.

You began to wonder if he felt the same magnetic pull you were experiencing. In those fleeting glances, you saw a flash of something—curiosity, longing—as if both of you were teetering on the edge of discovery.

Finally, as the game progressed toward the final question, Sarah interrupted with an excited sway. “Alright, I think we’re done for now! This video is definitely going to be a hit.”

You glanced at Max, who still wore that boyish grin—his energy infectious as he reveled in the laughter circulating around the room.

But deeper than that, you felt a weight pressing on your heart, urging you to say something more.

“Hey, Max, can I ask you something?” you called out, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” He looked at you with genuine curiosity, and for a brief moment, it felt as though you were in a bubble, shut away from everyone else.

“About our chemistry—does it mean anything to you?” The question hung in the air like a transmitted spark, and you could see his expression turn serious, the lightness shifting into something deeper.

He took a moment, weighing your words. “Ever since we started being friends, it’s been… different. Fun, but something more,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice resonating through you.

Your heart soared. Max was just as captivated by your chemistry as you were. It was as if some invisible thread had tethered you both, pulling you closer together.

With a casual flip of his cap back to forward, Max held your gaze. The laughter faded, and there you stood, surrounded by the energy of the Red Bull Racing headquarters, but your world had narrowed down to this single moment.

You felt the magnetic connection evolve into something tangible, something real that could break the barriers between colleagues and something much deeper—a thrilling journey ahead sparked by an unexpected electric tension. . . .

You glided down the hallway, adrenaline and excitement coursing through your veins. This was no ordinary night; in an unexpected twist, Max had chosen you to accompany him to an exclusive F1 gala.

You had always seen him as more than just a friend, but the tension between you had never been openly addressed—until now.

The door to the living room gave way, revealing Max perched comfortably on the sofa, his classic black tuxedo accentuating the chiselled lines of his physique. His tousled dark hair was slicked back, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jaw.

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked. But when he turned to face you, his expression changed from admiration to sheer shock.

“How do I look?” you asked playfully, knowing full well that the dress you wore clung to your curves in just the right way.

Lifting the last of your earrings into place, you caught his gaze, lingering far too long on your neckline.

Max’s mouth fell slightly open, and he stammered, “I-uh- You look— You look great.”

His eyes seemed glued to your chest, and you smirked at him, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay, let’s keep our thoughts innocent,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He blinked rapidly, as if waking from a trance, and his cheeks tinged with a light shade of crimson. “Right. Innocent. Of course.” His voice dropped an octave, trying to regain composure.

“You look—really beautiful. I mean, not that you don’t always…”

You laughed softly, enjoying the fluster you’d caused in the usually confident driver. “Thanks, Max. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He stood up, adjusting the lapels of his tux and shooting you a half-welcoming smile. “Ready to go? I think I’m about to break a world record for the longest time spent staring without saying anything coherent.”

“Let’s get out of here before you break any more records,” you replied, grabbing your clutch and heading toward the door.

The gala was being held at a splendid venue in Monaco, the ambiance glowing with extravagance. The soft sounds of classical music floated through the air as you and Max made your way inside, adorned in gold and silver decorations.

It felt surreal, the elegance around you contrasting sharply with the adrenaline-fueled world of racing that was Max’s daily routine.

As you entered, the murmurs of guests turned into a wave of excitement. “Max! Over here!” A handful of fans spotted him, rushing forward with cameras and excited whispers.

You watched as he interacted with them effortlessly, signing autographs and posing for pictures. A wave of pride washed over you; he was not just a friend but a superstar—one of the best drivers in the world.

After several moments of mingling with his fans, he returned to your side, breathless from the attention.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, his voice now lowered to an almost intimate whisper. “It’s... a lot sometimes.”

You offered him a warm smile, knowing how taxing the spotlight could be. “It’s nice to see you outside of the track. You can actually relax for once.”

With that notion in mind, he later led you to the bar, where you both ordered drinks—Max preferring a classic whiskey while you chose a sparkling signature cocktail adorned with fresh fruit.

As you sipped your second drink, you turned to him. “So, any secret dreams for the season?”

Max leaned back against the bar, an amused smile stretching across his face. “Well, aside from winning, I might want to one-up my last season’s record. Or maybe…”

He paused dramatically, “I was hoping for a podium finish on our next outing in Italy. It’s always been a special place for me.”

“Why is that? The food, the scenery?” you queried, genuinely curious.

“It’s got the perfect blend of everything. The passion, the fans... And the tire placements at Monza are—well, they’re quite thrilling,” he explained, his enthusiasm evident.

You listened, fascinated by his love for the sport and the intricacies he shared. “I can see why you love it so much,” you replied, “It’s like an art form...”

“Exactly!” His eyes sparked with enthusiasm. “And speaking of art, I could hardly choose an artwork more stunning than you tonight.”

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you chuckled softly. “Smooth, Max. Just remember, I’m not a trophy to be won.”

“More like a prize, then,” he shot back, his grinning eyes glinting in the light.

After what felt like a whirl of conversations and laughter, you noticed the transition in the evening. As Max caught your gaze, he spoke softly, “Say, would you like to dance?”

You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard. “Dance? I’m not even sure I know how to—”

“You know how to sway, don’t you?” he teased, offering his hand. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you shifted onto the dance floor, surrounded by elegantly dressed couples twirling and gliding with grace. The music faded into an intoxicating sound that seemed to pull you both closer together.

His hand found the small of your back, guiding you smoothly.

“What do you think?” he whispered in your ear as you found your rhythm. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Not bad at all,” you replied, heart racing as you shared his space. The warmth from his body enveloped you, grounding you.

Eventually, the song slowed, and as you swayed in closer, you could feel the heat radiating between you. It was a different rhythm now, one that echoed the unspoken tension of your friendship.

You felt his breath hitch as he leaned closer, inhaling softly.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice earnest.

“Yeah?” You searched his face, and the way his eyes flickered with vulnerability sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m glad I chose you to come with me tonight,” he admitted, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not just a date; you’re... you’re everything.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I care about you. More than just a friend,” he confessed, the courage of his words electrifying.

And there it was, laid bare before you in the most romantic of settings.

“Max, I feel the same.”

His gaze held yours, vulnerability mixing with unfettered joy. The music around you faded, but the world felt suspended in time, just the two of you wrapped in honesty.

He took a breath, then leaned down, brushing his lips softly against yours, tentative at first. You melted into the kiss, feeling like the most cherished person in the room.

The night had transformed into something truly unforgettable, and you knew that this moment was the beginning of something beautiful.

You wake up to the insistent buzzing of your phone beside you on the bedside table. Light streams through the curtains, illuminating the chaos of your living room, remnants from the night before—glasses, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of champagne.

You try to ignore the phone, but the buzzing doesn’t stop, and neither does the nauseating flutter of anxiety in your stomach.

“Who is it?” you murmur to yourself, glancing at the screen. Max’s name flashes back at you, and your heart races. Memories come flooding back. The party. The laughter.

His lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that made everything else in the room melt away. The kiss—a moment suspended in time, etched forever into your mind.

But then everything changed. The kiss had been captured, and going viral made it feel all too public. You had fallen for him—hard—but now the weight of that kiss felt like a betrayal.

You were terrified it would affect his career, and yet, what happened was beautiful. You cannot reconcile the two.

“God, what have I done?” You bury your face in your hands as shame washes over you. The thought of what the public would say twists like a knife in your heart.

You pick up your phone and stare at it, the guilt tightening its grip on your throat. You tell yourself you should call Max, but what would you even say?

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve ruined everything. You let it ring through to voicemail, your thumb hovering over the disconnect button.

“Hey, it’s Max Verstappen. I’m probably busy right now, but please leave a message.” His cheerful voice rings out, and you hear the tremor of hope in it.

You feel like you might cry, but you can’t give in. Not now. You drop the phone back onto the table, letting out a shaky breath.

A few hours later, you finally get out of bed and make yourself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will steady your nerves. On impulse, you switch on your laptop.

The first thing you see is a headline blaring from every angle: Max and Y/N: The Viral Kiss That Broke the Internet. Your heart sinks further. This was surreal and terrifying all at once.

“Incredible,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes. You want to escape from it all. In that moment, the coffee tastes bitter.

Later that afternoon, you’re stirring the milk when your phone lights up again. It’s Max. You feel a rush of warmth mixed with dread.

You hesitate, fingers trembling as you stare at his name. Finally, you press the button, willing yourself to answer.

“Hello?” his voice is light, almost cheerful, and you can hear how easy it is for him to smile despite the chaos surrounding both of you.

“Max,” you manage, voice shaky. “We need to talk.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “Are you okay?” His concern is palpable. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath. “About last night… the kiss… the cameras… I can't help but feel like I’ve ruined your career somehow. We’re all over the media, Max! What if it affects your races? Your reputation?”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interjects, clearly caught off guard. “You didn’t ruin anything. Trust me. In fact, I’m glad it happened. I wanted people to know how I feel.”

“How can you be so relaxed about this?” you manage, frustration creeping in. “You’re an F1 driver. Your image matters.”

“Yeah, but my heart matters more,” he replies, and there's an unmistakable intensity in his tone. “You matter more.”

“Max, what do you mean?” Your heart skips a beat. Those words run like electricity through you.

“You and me… last night was amazing—life-changing, actually. I’ve been wanting to be with you for a long time, and it finally happened.” He chuckles softly, the sound bringing a small smile to your lips.

“All the media chatter is just noise. I'm happy people see how I feel about you.”

“You don’t understand. They’ll twist it. They’ll make it sound like you’re just some guy who kisses his fans! This isn’t a good look!”

“Listen,” he says firmly. “If they want to spin it that way, let them. But I know the truth, and so do you. I didn’t kiss a fan; I kissed the person I care about the most. That’s you, and nothing anyone says will change that.”

You feel like you could cry. Max’s words are a balm for your frayed nerves. But still, the doubt claws at you. “What if it backfires? What if it affects your team’s performance?”

“It won’t,” he insists, voice lighter now. “I thrive on pressure. Trust me; if I can drive a Formula 1 car at 200 miles an hour, I can manage whatever they throw at me. More importantly, it’s you I want in my life. Can you at least think about that?”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable. You take a moment, letting it seep in. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you face backlash.”

“Only if you don’t call back,” he says, teasing you gently. “But seriously, let’s enjoy this. Go out with me, just once, without worrying about the cameras.”

“I don’t even know how the press will react,” you sigh.

“Then surprise them. Pick a restaurant, and I’ll be there.”

You can feel your heart racing as you mull it over, but deep down, something beautiful stirs—a possibility, a spark. You could face the chaos together.

Finally, you admit, “Okay, then. Tomorrow, let’s go to that Italian place we love. But just a warning: I’m not putting on a show for anyone.”

“Perfect. Just you, me, and pasta,” he chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, feeling the tension ease a little.

As you hang up, you stare out the window, meeting your own gaze in the reflection.

The episode before you has unsettled you, but perhaps, just perhaps, you and Max are writing the first chapter of something profound—something that even the world beyond the two of you could never fully understand.

Your heart swells with anticipation for what lies ahead. . . .

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your room, casting playful patterns on the floor as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your heart raced with excitement and nerves as you brushed the last strokes of mascara on your lashes.

You wanted to look your best, not just for yourself, but for Max. After the viral moment that had your names splashed across every social media feed, meeting up felt like stepping into a whirlwind you couldn’t escape, nor did you want to.

“You look amazing!” your best friend Mia said, planting herself on your bed, her phone in hand. “That dress is perfect for you!”

You twirled in front of the mirror, the fabric swirling around your legs. “Do you think he’ll even notice?” you laughed nervously, trying to inject levity into the situation.

“Are you kidding? Max will definitely notice. He’s been on cloud nine since that kiss!” Mia replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, who wouldn’t be a little distracted by the thought of a girl like you?”

Just then, the sound of your phone buzzing stole your attention. You rushed over, your heart leaping when you saw Max’s name.

“Hey!” you said, trying to contain your excitement.

“Hey!” he replied, his voice warm and a little nervous. “I’m outside. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just give me a second!” you hurried to grab your jacket and purse, glancing at Mia over your shoulder. She gave you a thumbs-up and a grin before you dashed down the stairs and out the door.

Max stood leaning against his car, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted navy shirt and jeans that accentuated his athletic figure. His hair was slightly tousled, the sun catching the glint in his blue eyes as he turned to you.

“Wow,” he said, his smile widening. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks! You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, trying to act cool while your cheeks heated up.

“Ready for our big adventure?” he asked, opening the car door for you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a laugh, settling into the passenger seat.

Max drove in a comfortable silence for a while, the radio playing softly in the background as you occasionally glanced at one another, the tension palpable yet exciting. Eventually, you broke the silence.

“So, about that kiss…” you began, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

Max chuckled, a little shyly, “You mean the one that broke the internet?”

“Yeah, that one! Do you think… I mean, how do you feel about it?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

He glanced at you, his expression serious yet playful. “Honestly? I’m still pinching myself. I didn’t expect to get carried away like that, but when I saw you, it was like everything else faded away.”

“Same here,” you admitted, your gaze locked onto his profile, trying to decipher his thoughts. “But now the whole world knows, and that’s a little overwhelming.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. I wasn’t ready for the headlines either. But I kind of love that we’re doing this together, even if people are watching.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with the attention?” you asked, concern flickering across your features. “I mean, we didn’t even talk about what this means.”

Max reached over and placed his hand on yours, sending a warm jolt through your arm. “I’m okay with it because it’s you. I like you, and I want to see where this can go, with all the chaos around us.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a sincerity that made your breath catch. “So, how about we forget about the cameras and just enjoy our time together?”

Nodding eagerly, you felt a surge of relief wash over you. “I’d like that.”

You spent the afternoon at a quaint café downtown, the hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee setting a cozy atmosphere. You shared stories over pastries, laughter ringing between you both as you learned more about one another.

“Okay, your turn,” you said after Max revealed his embarrassing childhood nickname. “What’s your biggest fear?”

Max took a moment to think, a slight furrow spreading across his brow. “Honestly? Losing the people I care about. Being a driver means that you travel a lot which means you lose friends quickly.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a rush of empathy.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, lifting his gaze to meet yours. “It taught me to value the people in my life even more. I guess that’s why I feel so lucky to have met you.”

Your heart fluttered as he leaned in slightly, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Also, I’m terrified of clowns.”

You burst into laughter, the tension from earlier melting away. “Oh come on! You can’t be serious.”

“I am! They’re just so unpredictable,” he insisted, his expression mock-stern. “One minute they’re juggling, and the next, they’re doing who knows what.”

You continued to share stories and tease each other, the world beyond the restaurant fading away. It wasn’t until you stepped out into the warm evening that you realized just how much you enjoyed his company.

“Wanna take a walk?” Max suggested, his hand naturally finding yours.

“I’d love to,” you replied, intertwining your fingers with his while you strolled through the twinkling lights of the downtown streets.

As you walked, the conversation flowed easily, your laughter mingling with the warm evening breeze. With every passing moment, the nervousness that had initially gripped you dissipated, replaced by a growing affection.

Then, as you rounded a quieter corner near the park, Max paused, turning to face me. The city lights danced in his eyes, and the warmth between you two was undeniable.

“Can I—” he hesitated, his gaze searching yours, “Can I kiss you again?”

You nodded, your heart fluttering wildly. “Definitely.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours, igniting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. This kiss was different, deeper, and more meaningful than the last—an unspoken promise of what was to come.

You pulled away, and you laughed breathlessly, trying to catch your breath.

“You know, if this goes viral too, at least it’ll be a better story,” Max teased, a charming smile spreading across his face.

“Let them talk!�� you giggled, feeling a wave of confidence wash over you. “As long as it’s with you, I’m in.”

“Good,” he replied, his expression sincere. “Because I think we’re just getting started.”

With that, hand in hand, you continued your stroll, the world around you two fading into a beautiful blur as you embraced the adventure that lay ahead—together.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the paddock. You and Max walked hand in hand, the sensation both electrifying and soothing.

The world had made a spectacle of your private moment, and now, as you stepped into the paddock, everyone watched, their eyes glimmering with curiosity and amusement.

“Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop,” you said, your voice a soft murmur as you caught his gaze.

His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something deeper—an unspoken promise that made your heart race.

Max chuckled, a warm laugh that seemed to drown out the chatter of the surrounding crowd. “Look at you, though. How can I not? You’re stunning today,” he said, his fingers gently squeezing yours.

He was always so effortless, a confidence that could light up a room, and now he was casting that glow on you.

You blushed slightly, trying to suppress a smile. “You know that’s not fair. You always know what to say to make me squirm,” you replied playfully, a hint of teasing in your voice.

“I’m just being honest,” he replied, turning serious for a moment. “You have to know how lucky I feel. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone.

The sincerity in his words made you feel exposed, yet cherished.

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at the compliment. “Lucky, huh? You’re the one racing in the fastest cars in the world. I’m just here, taking selfies and trying not to trip over all the cables.”

He squeezed your hand, a reassuring gesture that made you feel as if the two of you were in your own little world, separate from the high-octane chaos surrounding you. “Nah, the real race is in my heart. And you’ve won it.”

“Smooth talker,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully, though your heart fluttered at his words. “Just wait until you end up on the podium again; you’ll be too busy celebrating to remember little ol’ me.”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction. “You know I’d dedicate every race to you if I could. Last time on the podium—remember? I pointed to you. That was for you.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, your smile wide. “You were practically glowing. It was such an amazing moment.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier,” Max said, a serious tone creeping into his voice. “Every time I look at you, I get reminded of what really matters.”

“Okay, now you’re going to make me cry,” you joked, but there was a hint of sincerity in your tone. “Don’t ruin my makeup, please!”

Max laughed, the sound warm and infectious. “I promise, I won’t deliberately make you cry. But you are basically my good luck charm. You have to come to every race now.”

“Deal. But I get to pick the after-party spots,” you replied, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Who said I was going to take you to an after-party? I might want to just take you home and cook you dinner.”

“Cook? You?” You laughed. “I thought you’d just rely on takeout after the races.”

“I can surprise you,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, there’s something nice about a home-cooked meal. Wouldn’t you want to try my pasta? I’ve perfected it over the years.”

“Fine, but it better not be like the time you tried to make pancakes and turned them into a science experiment,” you shot back, remembering the sticky disaster that had resulted in laughter and flour-coated walls.

“Hey! That was one time. I’m much better now,” he insisted, pretending to be offended. But the twinkle in his eyes told you he was just teasing.

As you walked past the team garages, you noticed the crew setting up for the next race, and the adrenaline of the environment pulsed through you. “Max, look at all of this hustle and bustle. Doesn’t it make your heart race?”

He nodded, his expression serious now as he gazed at the busy scene. “Definitely. It’s the thrill of competition—everyone’s working hard for one goal. But to me, nothing compares to this moment with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

“I try my best,” he admitted, a playful grin returning. “But honestly, you inspire me to push harder, to be better. I want to win races, not just for myself, but for you.”

“Max, that’s so sweet. Just promise me you won’t risk it all out there. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

His expression softened, and he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them gently. “I promise. I’ll always be careful. You and I have a lifetime of moments to create together, and I won’t let anything take that away.”

You both stood there for a moment, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as you simply enjoyed each other’s company. The world around you became a blur, and it felt as if time stood still.

“Alright, what’s next on our agenda?” Max asked, breaking the spell of the moment.

You glanced around thoughtfully. “How about we grab a bite to eat? I’m starving.”

“Perfect! I know this great place just down the road. And after that, I’ll show you my secret hiding spot in the paddock where I keep my trophies,” he said, winking at you.

“Trophies and secrets? You really do know how to woo a girl,” you replied, playfully nudging him as you both started walking toward the exit.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve,” he said confidently, pulling you closer as you stepped into the evening light, hand in hand, ready to face whatever adventures were ahead. "You are my priority after all,"

[gotta-winwin]

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> for you to walk comfortably

word count: 1k TW: fluff? nothing too crazy - woozi's segments pretty mild compared to what's about to go down („• ֊ •„) italics are interview moments cut between other scenes a/n: welcome to the first instalment of htr!

Cyana couldn't help but glance at Woozi when they won the Album of the Year at Asia Artist Awards. She wanted to see that glow of a smile flood across their producer member's face, a smile she so rarely got to see. He was usually so stoic around her.

"We won." Jeonghan breathed into her ear, pulling her and Dino in for a hug. "We won."

She looked at Woozi, who had been tugged into a group hug with Seungcheol and the others. "We won." She mumbled, mostly to herself. She couldn't quite believe it.

"It was hard to imagine we had won." Woozi said to the camera. "I was looking for Cyana the whole time, trying to see her reaction. I never thought we'd succeed with her next to us." He shrugged, a little sheepish. "Guess I was wrong."

"Hi!" Cyana waved to the camera. "We're practicing for our Osaka concert right now." She moved to show the members with the staff in the background. "Apparently they did this all last tour as well, to keep in line with the local staff."

Woozi could be seen directing the bulk of it, naturally taking over as he knew most about their sound design.

"It sounds a bit lower," Woozi said into his mic. "can we adjust that?"

"It was amazing, to see Woozi oppa controlling the stage, even when we weren't performing." Cyana smiled as she recalled. "It made it even harder to hold a grudge."

Woozi approached Cyana as they sat in the green room, two hours before the concert. She was busy eating, her phone propped up as she watched Criminal Minds on low volume.

"Your mic pack's acting up." He informed her, sitting down opposite her. "They're fixing it but we don't know how long it'll take."

Cyana paused her show, looking up worried. "Is there a spare?"

"The staff are finding one now." Woozi let out a loud sigh. "It's a bit hectic today."

"I was kind of checking everything that day. It wasn't that I was a perfectionist. There was just a lot of changes. It was a different size stage, we had changed formations and cue sheets." Woozi recalled the day.

Cyana nodded after hearing the interviewer's comment. "I don't think our performance in Osaka would've gone as well if it hadn't been for his attention to detail."

LOCATION: UNIVERSE FACTORY

"I spend most of my time at the studio. It's like my second home." Woozi explained. "It's also where I see Cyana the most."

Cyana's sprawled on the studio couch, face facing the ceiling as she listened to the track Woozi was playing. "Pause it." Cyana sat upright, her face in thought. "Wait, go back a few bars."

"I liked working with Woozi oppa. We didn't really have much to say to each other outside of work, but working on music was something that could bring us together." Cyana let out a tiny laugh. "I guess being sleep deprived does bring people together."

Woozi rewinds the track, bringing it back to the chorus. "Here?" He asked, looking at Cyana for confirmation.

The girl nodded. "Yeah, play it again?"

The two grew silent as they concentrated on the beats. Cyana stood up suddenly frowning. "What is that sound in the very back? The dat-dat-dat-dun." She mimed drumbeats as she tried explaining what she was hearing.

"Cyana didn't know how to work the sound mixing board yet, she was learning as we worked but I could tell it frustrated her, having to explain her thoughts to me." Woozi couldn't help but smile. "It was endearing, I have to say."

"I know what you mean." Woozi nodded, following her train of thought. "I hear it too. Must've altered when we mixed those two beats together yesterday." He clicked a few keys on the board. "I'll find it."

"Bumzu sunbaenim told me Woozi oppa's always been like this, even as a trainee. A pure musical genius." Cyana shook her head in mild disbelief. "I came to learn that producing is literally his entire life. He doesn't even think of it as anything special."

Cyana let out a yawn, sitting back down on her spot at the corner of the couch, curling her legs up. "You should take a break, oppa. You've been staring at that screen for hours."

"I felt bad, that I couldn't hold my fair share of the work. Sometimes it felt like I was just directing him." Cyana admitted. "I thought: he must feel annoyed, having the maknae throw ideas into his area of expertise."

Woozi stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders back. "I'm fine, Cyana. We can keep going." Rolling his chair across the room, he opened the mini fridge and threw her a bottle of water before taking one for himself. "We'll forget tomorrow."

Cyana could only smile ruefully at his persistence, taking a small sip of water. "Only if you're sure."

"What else can I say?" Woozi shrugged. "The members all say I work too hard. That I should be sleeping more, going out more, living more. But I am living- when I'm making music."

Woozi cued up the track once again, sifting through it to find the error both he and Cyana could hear. Cyana watched from behind, feet tapping absentmindedly to the rhythm.

The concert venue held an insane amount of people. Cyana could only stare out into the vast sea, smiling from the sidelines as Woozi started his Opening Ment.

"I'm a stickler for routine." Woozi said, elbows on his knees as he explained to the interviewer. "Cyana proved to me new things can be better than the old- and I'm grateful to her for that." He side eyes the staff. "She won't see this, right?" Looking back at the camera, he continued. "Anyways, I'm thankful for my members because they are the ones who love my music the most. Because of that, I feel no pressure in creating, only joy."

The cheers from the crowd washed over Woozi as he performed with his members.

'There is something so special about seeing people enjoy your group's music. And it is even more special knowing you created it."

a/n: wahhh first hit the road ep done! it was def a journey, trying to combine cyana into the episode and also keeping it woozi-centered. I tried following the format of the og youtube docu- lmk how it was! these instalments might be on the shorter side just cause the docus are pretty short themselves (｡•́︿•̀｡)

[lomlhwa]

scandal (l.c)

pairing: idol!reader x idol!chan

preview: you got into a dating scandal with another idol and chan is not happy. it should've been him, he's your actual boyfriend after all.

tags/warnings: fem reader, mentions of beomgyu and other idols, possessive chan, kisses galore, pet names (pretty, baby, my love, angel), oral (fem.receiving), holding hands while fucking, so much praise, monster cock chan, marking, did i say possessive?, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.8k

song rec for this fic: obsession by exo

a/n: i tried making fake tweets + texts for this how did i do? also i just threw in random female idols to make a fake group lol

you sigh, putting your phone down and rubbing your temples. dating as an idol is so tiring and sometimes you honestly forget why you even try. but you love your boyfriend so much. beomgyu is your good friend and sometimes you fail to remember to be sneaky when hanging out. even small things like going out to eat together makes fans assume you’re madly in love. this isn’t the first time you’ve been roped into media with beomgyu and you’re certain it won’t be the last. 

with your swift rise to fame, you’ve had many dating scandals in your time. what pisses chan off the most is the fact that it’s never been him that you’ve had a scandal with. you’ve gone out on many public dates before and no one has ever picked up on the fact that you’re together. he even kissed you in the view of a sasaeng one time and they didn’t notice. he wonders if it’s intentional on the media’s part or if they’re seriously just that oblivious. 

you run your hand through your hair, trying to fathom why the general public knowing about your relationship is so important to him. everyone within the industry knows so why does everyone else have to? relationships can ruin idol reputations and he doesn’t seem to care. maybe it’s because you’re both already so big that he’s not worried? or he’s hoping your fans are just accepting enough to be okay with it? 

your members come wandering into the living room and you’re quick to compose yourself. you don’t want them to know you’re having relationship problems again. “you okay, y/n?” minji asks you, concern spreading on her face. you nod and smile to the best of your abilities. “hmm, i don’t believe you but we have schedules so i’m not gonna push,” karina shakes her head before gesturing for you to follow the group out the door. you gather your things and do your best not to think about anything but the late night ahead of you. 

___________________________________________

after a late night at dance practice you finally get the time to check your phone. you know chan had a fansign today so you decide to check on some of his fan accounts. you smile as you’re met with cute photos of him posing with gifts from fans. you find lots of updates on things he said as well. his current favorite movies, foods, tv shows and… songs. of course he mentions you. it’s cute that he listens to your music and likes to promote you to fans. 

you jump as you realize sana is perched over your shoulder, reading your text messages. “he’s gonna get in trouble when people realize he keeps talking about you,” she comments, clicking her tongue. you sigh dramatically, slouching your shoulders. “that’s what he wants.” suddenly all your members are gathered around you, confused as to what you’re talking about. “i got into another scandal with beomgyu and chan is jealous that it’s not him. so he’s putting in extra effort to try and get people to assume things.” your members share a weird look between them before turning back to you. “i think you should go on the most public date ever and make sure everyone knows you’re with lee chan of seventeen,” lily smiles brightly at you. this comment shocks you a little but you agree. 

“will you guys help me set up a giant celebration at the restaurant under our dorm?” you ask and they all agree excitedly. you all rush to get back to your dorm, eager to plan an extravagant dinner for you and your boyfriend. you talk to the owners of the restaurant and they agree to vacate the restaurant for you. they even promise to make food on the house. your girls help you pick the perfect outfit, hair and makeup for the event. they even “accidentally” tell a well known media outlet that you have plans for tomorrow and they should be there. 

___________________________________________

you sit in eager anticipation waiting for your boyfriend to show up. you can see a photographer out of the corner of your eye, waiting for something to happen. you hear the backdoor open and chan walks in, confidence filling his every step. your eyes fall on the suit he chose for tonight. he left his blazer undone, showing off that the buttons resting on his chest were begging to burst open. 

“hello, my love,” he says as he pecks your cheek before sitting down across from you. “what’s the occasion for such a fancy dinner?” his face changes to panic for a moment before he speaks again; “did i miss our anniversary? your birthday?” you shake your head and chuckle just as a waitress comes scurrying out of the kitchen with pre prepared food. you thank her and shoot her a quick wink before turning back to your lover. chan looks at you with an unreadable expression, but you hope it’s positive.

the two of you eat your food happily, the atmosphere feeling very comfortable. your share anecdotes from your lives as idols, laughing that the ridiculousness of your respective companies. before long, your meal is coming to an end. chan gives you a look you know all too well and you’re quick to scurry away, up the stairs and to your dorm. your boyfriend follows swiftly behind you after thanking all the staff. 

you thank your members mentally as you enter your normally occupied dorm. as soon as the door is closed, chan’s hands are on you. he drags you by your hips, crashing you against him. he kisses you with such aggression that you would think he was trying to eat you. your tongues tangle like snakes, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth. “fuck, baby. you’re so sexy, you know that?” he connects his lips to your jawline, sucking on your skin gently. he sucks dark red marks on your collar bones, taking a moment to lean back and admire his work. 

“jump,” he mutters as he hooks his hands under your thighs. you hop and he catches you before quickly scurrying towards your room. he lays you down on your bed, pressing your legs wide open. he groans as he realizes you aren’t wearing any panties. you bite your lip as he admires you. “stop fucking me with your eyes and fuck me for real,” you demand. chan drops to his knees in front of you, desperation filling his eyes. you lift yourself onto your elbows so you can see him better. he kisses his way up your thighs before meeting his lips with your drenched core. 

his skilled tongue darts out to circle your clit, small whines escaping from your throat. he grips your thighs, holding you exactly where he wants you. he slurps and drinks you up as you twitch and squirm under him. he focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, rubbing his tongue back and forth over it. “channie, please please ple-ah,” he silences you with a harsh smack to your inner thigh. “let me enjoy your cunt. god, i love that you’re mine,” he presses kisses against your slit, licking a fat stripe up it to follow. “fucking mine.”

he grazes his teeth over your clit, drinking in the way you squeak and raise your hips towards his mouth. your hands fly to his hair and drag his mouth back to you. he chuckles before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it before letting it go with a small ‘pop.’ you grind your core against his face, his nose brushing your clit as you get more and more desperate for release. “you have the most perfect pussy, baby. could eat you forever.”

a low moan slips from his lips as he watches you clench around nothing at his words. he places one final kiss to your core before rising off his knees. “you’re so tasty, angel. but i think i might explode if i don’t get inside you.” he reaches down to undo his pants and let them pool around his ankles. he aligns himself with your desperate hole before pressing in gently. “my pretty, pretty girl.” he grabs your hands and intertwines all ten of your fingers with his. a gesture like this always felt so romantic to you. 

he arms flex in reaction as you clench around him in an eager effort to get him to move. he draws his hips back slowly before returning himself to the hilt. your eyes cross and your back arches off the bed as he repeats this ritual over and over before he can’t take the slow pace anymore. he tightens his grip on your hands as he speeds up, the sounds of skin slapping filling the room. he stares between the two of you, watching as he disappears and reappears between your legs.”fuck, baby. you’re all mine. i don’t care what the media says. i’m the one fucking you. not beomgyu, me.” you nod your head, panting like a dog in the summer heat. “say it. who does this pussy belong to?” he thrusts into you faster, as if to make it harder for you to answer. “y-you, chan. fuck, it’s all yours.”

he lets go of your hands and opts to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your chest. he ruts into you with such vigor you think you might snap in half. he lifts you partially off the bed so you’re kind of sitting in his lap. your grind down on him, desperate for more. “channie… god, need it so bad,” you plead, your orgasm threatening to rip its way out of you. he runs his tongue between the valley of your breasts before pulling back to look at your face.

“keep eye contact with me while you finish. let me see how fucking good i make you feel.” you nod, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as he connects the pad of his thumb to your clit. you let out a deep sigh and fight your hardest not to throw your head back. the way chan looks at you through his sweaty bangs has you seeing stars. “cumming. oh my god i’m cumming,” you cry out as your whole body spasms. “yeah, that’s it baby. squeeze my cock like that.” your arms give out and you fall back onto the bed, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turn white. 

your lover’s orgasm is quick to follow, ropes of cum painting your walls white. he moans and whines out your name like a hymn, gripping your waist so hard you might bruise. you twitch as he rides out the last of his high before stilling completely. he pulls out of you slowly before laying next to you. he pulls you tightly against him, panting slightly as he settles. “i promise i don’t care what the media says. i love you."

___________________________________________

© lomlhwa 2024

[slvtforfiction]

Stalker!Ghost (part 2)

☆ Stalker!Ghost X Reader

☆ Fluff

☆ TW stalking obvs

☆ New account layout,will try change old layout as much as possible,requests are open

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D (Please look at pinned post to see if requests are open.)

☆ Divider creds @cafekitsune :)

Masterlist | Pinned Post | Part 1

☆ After a while Ghost seemed to be a bigger part of your life than you realised,a bigger comfort than knowingly willing.

☆ You seemed to find yourself excited to see when he would reply to your notes next,hiding off in your bedroom sometimes intentionally so that he would come into your house and reply.

☆ You had come to the conclusion that if he wanted to hurt you he would’ve by now. He had told you descriptions of how you looked at work,how the guy that yelled at you was ‘dealt with’ he knew everything about your life and seemed to protect you yet you had no idea why so whilst writing your next note you included the question.

☆ Hey Ghost, how come you chose me? Like why are you helping me? I would say you barely know me but you seem to know me more than I know myself haha.

Love,Y/n.

☆ You quickly scribbled out the ending,reminding yourself for a moment that this man was stalking you quite literally.

☆ The idea scared you but you supposed he was closer to a guardian angel rather than anything.

☆ After a few hours of listening to music in your room you slipped downstairs to grab yourself a drink,almost forgetting about the note you left until you saw it replaced with a familiar sticky note.

☆ Because you’re a beautiful woman,truly. I see what you do for other people even when others don’t. A beautiful person. I saw you scribble out the ending,don’t be afraid of me dove.

Love,Ghost.

☆ You stared at the note for a moment before writing out yet another note.

☆ Thank you haha,when can I know what you look like though? Can I not even get your phone number or something so you don’t have to break into my house every time I wanna talk to you?

☆ You wrote out the note before grabbing your original drink and heading back upstairs,hoping for a reply soon.

☆ In some sick way you had grown unscathed by the man that entered your house while you weren’t home,the man who entered your house while you actually were home,sitting upstairs oblivious to the rest of the home.

☆ In your mind you continued to remind yourself that he’s your stalker and he’s dangerous but there’s a part of you that just doesn’t believe that voice in your head telling you to run.

☆ You fall asleep soon after writing that note though awake a few hours later to see a pile of your underwear,carefully folded and cleaned and you smile realising that Ghost has been in yet come to the horrific discovery that that man had seen you sleeping.

☆ If he was going to hurt you he would’ve done it by now. You remind yourself before walking downstairs to read his note again.

☆ You ain’t gonna see what I look like any time soon lovie,hope you enjoy your washing.

You can message me on this number.

1567-####-####

Love,Ghost.

☆ You smiled now that you had finally gotten even a little bit of information about him and you quickly ran upstairs as you grabbed your phone typing in the number and sending it a message.

☆ Ghost?

☆ You smile as the phone quickly lights up after your message was sent.

☆ Hey lovie.

Hey guys if you like this post you should follow my Wattpad to get a notification when I post my ghost fic! It’s Christmas themed,slow burn and I know you’ll all definitely love it - Char 💞

Wattpad

out nov 25th 00:00 gmt*

[andromeda-nova-writing]

Cuff it 👀

Well, you got me. Forcing me to write the fic I have been joking about for a whole year now. Safe to say this fic requires you to listen to CUFF IT. It's a good song I would love to go roller skating while to one day. The disco vibes beg for the skates. This fic isn't about that. I present a reader that is very horny down bad for Wriothesley while I attempt to keep this humorous and safe for work.

I think it's very obvious there is reference to sexual content. It was very hard to think of ways to keep this sfw considering the lyrical content. I give you the long joked about CUFF IT fic.

Words: 1949 Fem!Reader Modern AU This feels like such a crack fic

Navia spit out her drink as Y/N’s phone began ringing, interrupting the music they had been listening to. “Why is that your ringtone?”

“So you have no complaints about me playing the song, but when it’s my ringtone, there is a complaint?” Y/N asked, still standing on top of the step ladder as she put dishes away in the top cabinet.

“I agree it’s a good song but seriously that's your ringtone?” She asked again.

“I have my reasons. Just answer it for me. You’re closer.” It was easier to just keep shoving cups in the cabinet than to take a break. That box was almost empty.

Navia looked at the call screen. “You have a song about about riding-”

“Just answer!”

Navia swiped answered the call and placed it on speaker for Y/N to listen. “Took you long enough.” Wriothesley’s voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah, we’re putting stuff up still. Navia had to rush to grab my phone. How are you and Clorinde doing with my furniture?” Y/N spoke loud enough to be clear.

“Perfectly strapped down to the rental. We took a detour to pick up some food if you don’t mind.” He continued explaining. “Clorinde said you and Navia were talking about wanting to try out that new restaurant that opened so we just got some stuff from there.”

“Good memory. Navia kept staring at the menu when we were on break.” She told on her friend.

“I’m just curious to see how they make their cakes. It’s my job as a baker to see how other places make the same desserts to see what I can do better.” Navia defended.

“Which is why we made sure to grab some,” Clorinde said, sounding tired from the lifting they had been doing.

“We should take a nice break when y’all get back. We got most of the kitchen unpacked anyway. How long till you’re back?” Y/N asked.

“Five or so minutes. Is the door still open?”

“Yeah.”

“See you soon then,” Wriothesley spoke before hanging up. The music from Y/N’s phone began to play again filling the mostly empty room.

“Is this ringtone my horrible way of finding out you two are dating?” Navia asked now a little in horror at how completely inappropriate Y/N’s taste in ringtones was.

“Nope!” Another shelf had been filled, and on to the next. “But if we were dating I would happily act out said lyrics.”

“That’s too much information.” And not something Navia even wanted the mental image of.

“If I have to hear about what you would like to do with Clorinde behind closed doors, I think you can deal with the lyrical content of ‘Cuff It’. I mean it’s only bad when you pay attention to the lyrics.”

“I could excuse it if the lyrics were set to the chorus! At least that’s tame in comparison, you might be able to get away with it if he overheard that as your ringtone for him.”

“And Wriothesley won’t hear what I have set as his ringtone. Even then I think everyone knows it’s my favorite song.” Y/N defended herself. She had a few months of this as his ringtone and nothing bad had happened so she must have been in the clear with that silly decision she made late one night updating ringtones for her friends.

“Even then, don’t you think on the off chance he hears it there won’t be questions. I mean the lyrics it opens with are ‘Hypersonic, sex erotic’. I think anyone would ask questions.” Navia tried appealing to her sense of reason.

“You know I keep my ringer off most of the time anyway. It only played because I’m connected to a Bluetooth speaker. I'm perfectly fine to keep those lyrics as a ringtone that plays like in a blue moon.”

Navia rubbed the temples of her forehead. If this was what she was like before even making a move on Wriothesley, she was afraid of what would happen if they ever became an item. “What even drove you to set the dirtiest part of the song as his ringtone? Actually, do I even want to know?”

Y/N laughed. “You remember last Halloween when he got forced to dress up? This song just happened to be playing as he was twirling around handcuffs. I can still see the twirls as the song played.” She began singing as the memory played in her head. “Come and cuff it, cuff it, cuff it, cuff it, baby. While I buss it-”

“That better not be why this is your favorite song.” Navia interrupted. “Oh my gosh, is that why you sing that part so loud?”

“The song is two years old and that only happened last year. I've been loving this song. And perhaps. A girl can daydream.”

“Just ask him out instead of being ridiculous. He’s gonna catch that ringtone one day.”

“When you ask out Clorinde! Even then I’m not sure if he would even be open to the idea of going out on a date. If I ask him out it might make things weird between us. I really do like him. More than I just want to sit on him kind of way.” Navia rolled her eyes at that sentence as Y/N continued. “I mean I know he can look scary but he is just such a sweetheart! I mean come on he didn’t have to help me move. Then there was that one time he picked me up cause there was a nail in my tire. Oh, and that day he begged to come over when I was watching my grandma’s puppy.”

“I get it! I just really think you should ask him out. Have you considered maybe he does all those things 'cause he likes you too?” Navia could hear the rental vehicle pull up. “I’m gonna go see what they need help with.”

Y/N frowned at the question Navia had left her on. There was no way she would be pondering such a question when she had a cabinet almost filled and Wriothesly just outside her new home.

Even then there wasn't anything wrong about that song being her ringtone. Plenty of people had ringtones with raunchy lyrics. This one was at least award-winning and it sounded so fun that not everyone even saw how dirty of a song it was. Was there really anything wrong with having the ringtone of the guy she would love to fall in love with to be a song about wanting to ride his dick?

…okay maybe phrasing it like that she could see Navia’s point. Y/N sighed. Guess it was time to change her ringtone for Wriothesley to be something more appropriate. It was a 2 am decision and to be fair, no one ever had good ideas at that hour.

She could hear bags being placed on the counter. “Part of taking a break requires you to get down from there.” Wriothesley was quick to remind her.

“I'm almost done. I'll get down in a bit. No issues with loading anything right?” She asked not wanting to look him in the eye just yet considering her previous thoughts.

“It went well. It was tiring though. Your bed frame was heavier than it looked though.”

“Good thing I have your help then. Actually, could you hand me my phone real quick?” She wanted to see time but also to change the album that was playing.

Wriothesley grabbed the phone for her before walking over. “Yeah, here you go.” There wasn't even a chance to grab the phone before it started ringing. The phone lit up with his name on the screen and a photo of him filling the screen.

Hypersonic, sex erotic On my body, boy, you got it Hit them 'draulics, while I ride it Got me actin' hella thotty So excited, so exotic

Despite the song on her ringtone playing so loudly, the room was just quiet. Navia was right and she was a fool. She felt frozen, unable to move despite the fact she could have easily taken the phone out of his hand.

Wriothesley answered the phone before the song could be played any further. Clorinde’s voice came through the speakers. “Navia and I are going back to the restaurant. They forgot some of your food. Wriothesley’s phone is still with us. Let him know.”

“Will do,” Y/N answered before Clorinde hung up the phone where her music had once again returned to the speakers. “I must set the wrong song as my ringtone for you. Funny mistake right?”

“When I switched phone brands you were the one who kept showing me the different ways to customize it.” Wriothesley reminded her. “You can’t stand on that ladder forever.”

“I feel like it’s better if I do.” The longer she stayed on the ladder, the longer till her feelings had to be rejected.

“Get down.”

It was hard not to frown as she got down from the step ladder. She wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to leave the moment Clorinde and Navia got back with the food and his phone. She didn't dare look him in the eye.

“I know it's one of your favorites and all but I think I'm going to need some more explanation than that of why you have that set as my ringtone.” He was at least kind enough to give her the phone back.

“You're a smart guy. Don't make me. This is embarrassing enough.” Y/N put the phone down on the counter behind her after turning down the volume of music playing. “Just let me down already. It's not like I was ever expecting a chance. It doesn't take a genius to see you weren't interested in any sort of relationship.”

“Who said I was uninterested?”

A rough calloused hand gently moved her chin up forcing her to look Wriothesley in the eyes. “You never acted as you were.” The words came out quiet, still flustered from before.

“It's not like you made it clear before either. Even then when I did try asking you out before, there was always something going on to where you couldn't go. I almost thought you were purposefully trying to avoid me.”

“I would never. I was just busy. I didn't even think you were asking me out.” Her eyes drifted off to the side. “How many times?”

Wriothesley let out a nervous laugh. “I would rather not count that.”

“I can’t believe I’m that oblivious that you won't even tell me how many times. Gosh, I'm stupid.”

“I wouldn’t call you stupid. Just distracted.”

“That doesn't help me feel better.”

“I have an idea what might make you feel better.”

Y/N laughed at herself. “Yeah, crawling under my blankets never to return.”

“Then let me do this before you go.”

The kiss from Wriothesley was gentle, warm, and inviting. Tender yet she could tell how much he wanted it. She didn’t even notice how her arms moved on their own, desperate to pull him closer. There was the faint taste of tea, not surprising with how cold it had been that day.

That was the perfect song to set as her ringtone with it leading to this. The part of her that planned on cursing that restaurant just for being the reason Clorinde had called her was now thanking them for forgetting their food. It was a perfect miracle.

If it wasn't for the fact that she was hungry and had a deadline on when to return the rental truck, that door would be locked. It would be best if Navia and Clorinde took their sweet time so she could keep savoring this kiss.

[moody-alcoholic]

Special Delivery Service

Chapter 16 - The Request

Summary: Simon x reader, 4.8k words. New job, new challenges, new choices.

CW: Language, descriptions of weapons, panic attack, PTSD, bad radio etiquette? Bad radio coms, first draft.

AN: After all the hurt I've been writing I needed this.

Previous - masterlist - Next

AO3

You think John was the most excited about you offering to take everyone out suit shopping. He excitedly gave you the company card, a list of specifications and an address to a tailor. It’s in a shopping centre just outside the city. You haven’t been to  a shopping centre since the attack. The thought of going back into one makes your stomach turn. 

“Don’t let Johnny pick the lunch spot, last time he spent a fortune.” John says. You nod smiling. Simon said he would drive which made Johnny and Kyle go green. You’re not sure why Simon is a good driver. You give him the address and head to the car.

“I call shotgun!” Johnny shouts like a child running to the front passenger door. 

“Hey, that's my seat!” You call back.

“Yeah, let the love birds have the front seats.” Kyle says.

“So we can make out in the back?” Johnny teases back, winking at him and moving to the back door. You hear Simon sigh, you can already tell his social battery is at zero, and who knows how long this will take.

“You don’t have to come.” You say to him over the car before you both get in. 

“And leave you alone with the company card and Johnny.” He says, raising an eyebrow. You smile at him and get in. Johnny plays DJ, his phone already hooked up to the speakers as he fights over music with Kyle. 

“You should put some of Kira Nova’s songs on. Get to know the client.” You say turning back to look at him. The sound of bagpipes fills the car for the second time. Kyle is almost manhandling the phone out of Johnny’s hand as he protests. 

“If I have to spend another trip listening to bagpipes I will throw you out of this car.” Kyle says. Suddenly the music switches to pop, and a woman starts singing. 

“This is her?” Simon asks, looking over at you quickly, his eyes creased. You nod. “I think this was number 1 for a while.” You say. Everyone listens in silence until the song is almost finished. 

“You’re not going to make us learn the words are you?” Johnny asks, you chuckle. 

“No, you’ll have plenty of time at the concerts.” You look at Simon who sighs. Simon drives the car into a parking structure, nerves rise in you. It’s the first time you’ve been in a shopping centre since the attack. You’re gripping the seat belt as Johnny and Kyle get out enthusiastically and jumps out the car. 

Simon goes to open the door but he hesitates looking back at you. You’re still gripping the seat belt. Your breathing has picked up as you look over at Johnny and Kyle making their way over to the entrance. 

“Baby, you okay?” He asks his hand landing on your thigh and giving it a squeeze. It pulls you back to reality and you turn to look at him. His expression suddenly becomes darker as he turns in his seat. 

“I’m okay, it’s just.. It’s a shopping centre.” You say letting out a breath and unclipping your seat belt. Simon’s hand squeezes your thigh again.

“It’s okay. Do you want to go home? We can get a taxi back.” He says, tipping his head. You smile at him looking at Johnny and Kyle waiting by the entrance.

“No, I can’t let it control me.” You say. His hand comes up to your face pulling it to look at him. 

“You’re going to be fine. We’re all here, if you need to leave at any point then we will.” He says rubbing your chin with his thumb. You smile at him nodding. He leans over and presses his lips to yours, his kiss feels good as his hand strokes your face. You let his tongue run over yours, his movements soft pressing his body closer to you.

You want the kiss to last forever and not have to go into this centre just be here with Simon. There’s a knock on the car’s glass. 

“Hey love-birds, we’re on a clock here.” Johnny says as you break from the kiss looking up at him. Simon rolls his eyes and you both get out of the car. Simon waits for you holding his hand out as you walk next to him pulling your jacket closed. It’s cold, you can see your breath. It’s going to be winter soon, you’ll have to find out when the clocks go back.

You’re so stuck in your own head you don’t even realise you’re in the shopping centre until you feel warm and loosen the grip on your jacket. You look over at Simon who smiles at you squeezing your hand. Kyle and Johnny enthusiastically head up an escalator, you follow them a few steps behind. 

“Been here before?” You ask Simon. He nods, he’s pulled a mask up over his nose since you’ve walked in. He must have them stashed everywhere cos he always seems to have them on hand. When you make it to the next floor you see the suit shop from a mile away. Conveniently next to a wedding gown store. 

You follow Johnny in as a man comes from round the counter to greet them open arms. He’s an older looking man with a moustache and grey hair. You can hear him greeting them all by name. 

“And who is this lovely lady?” He asks you to extend his arm, you take it, telling him your name. He responds with his name; Greg.

“Simon’s better half.” Johnny Jokes already looking through a turnstyle of suit jackets. It makes you blush as the man looks up wide eyed at Simon. 

“So where's Johnathan? The man asks. 

“He’s swamped with paperwork.” Simon explains to the disappointment of Greg.

“So what are you looking for?” He asks, looking round at everyone.

“4 suits, for work.” Simon says as Johnny is taking different coloured jackets off the rack, Simon looks up at him. “All black.” Johnny huffs putting the jackets back on the rack. You smile at him, as he turns over to the all black jackets. 

“Is one of them for the lovely lady?” Greg asks, looking back at you and smiling. 

“No, she's just here to watch us dress up.” Johnny says heading through to what looks like the changing rooms. Greg chuckles and follows after him as you all walk through while Johnny waits outside a room that says ‘private’ Greg walks up and opens the door. 

When you walk through it's another room, smaller than the main floor but filled with suits and 2 changing rooms. 

 “Just got a new shipment last month.” Greg says as he goes over to a jacket taking it off the rack. He holds it up, sticking his hand inside and spreading open a pocket. “You’re usual concealed carry sewn in, even a place for a bigger radio. These are American, the same ones the secret service uses.” 

“You say that about all your suits.” Kyle says walking over to Johnny who’s looking at trousers. Greg turns with him.

“Ah yes and the new trousers, elastic waistband at the back, and you can pick a left or right concealed carry slot.” He explains pulling a pair out. Simon’s hand rests on your back as you take in the scene. You should have known it was not going to be a normal tailors. 

“You okay?” he asks, you look up at him and smile nodding.

“We have new kevlar plates too.” You hear Greg say and Johnny makes an excited noise. “We’re only here for suits.” Simon says going over to them. You stand there watching and listening as they look for their size of clothes. Greg ushers you over to a chair as you watch him go back to fussing over the boys. 

You watch as they try on different size jackets, all the same though as per John’s instructions black suit, no tie, no waist coat. Steel toe shoes, white or black shirts. You’ve all ready seen Simon eyeing up the black shirts. 

“What’s the news on a tactical kilt?” Johnny calls from the changing room. 

“Not much market for a tactical kilt in America.” Greg calls while measuring Simon’s mid section. Johnny steps out from the changing room with his jacket open turning around. 

“What do you think lass?” Johnny asks, winking at you. 

“You look good.” You nod at him smiling.

“Here.” Kyle comes over to Johnny handing him a weapon. Your breath catches in your throat, you can hear your heart thumping in your chest. You see the black metal as Johnny puts it inside his jacket then standing straight. 

You remember the cold feel of the weapon you had in your hands, you remember it firing off, how the kick back felt. You can smell the blood. You swallow your throat suddenly dry. You watch Johnny taking the weapon out and putting it back in its concealed spot with no issues. You stand up your chest suddenly feeling tight.

“You okay lass?” Johnny asks. You open your mouth to tell him you’re okay but all you can see is the weapon in his hand. It makes the words catch in your throat. Panic rises in you. You need air, you need to breathe. 

You turn heading for the exit ignoring the people calling behind you. You burst through the door into the main store. You brace yourself on the wall trying to suck in gulps of air. 

Simon crashes through the door and you turn to see him. His hands finding your shoulders moving you to look at him. 

“I-I can’t breathe,” you manage to get out, your head swimming as you pant for breaths with a hand on your chest. You see a glint of something in his eyes as he pushes you through into one of the changing rooms.

“You’re having a panic attack.” He says his voice level as he gently presses you down on the bench closing the curtain behind him. 

“What that- n-not possible.” You say. You don’t have panic attacks, soldiers and abused people have panic attacks. People who have PTSD, you don’t have PTSD. 

Simon kneels down so his face is level with yours one of his hands comes round to the back of your head the other grips the hand at your chest. 

“Just breathe, look at me and breathe.” You try looking at his face, he quickly pulls his mask down before moving his hand back to squeeze yours. 

“In and out come on. Breathe with me.” He takes in a big lungful of air and you follow him after a few deep breaths the pain subsided and tingling picked up in your fingers. You suddenly feel sick, your head swimming. 

Before you can stop yourself, tears spill over your eyes. 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” Simon says, wrapping his arms round you pulling you against him. 

“LT you good?” You hear Johnny call which makes you jump. 

“Yeah, we’re good.” Simon calls before he can come looking for you. You let out another long breath bringing your free hand up to wipe your eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” You say as a door closes. 

“About what? Nothing to be sorry about.” He says his hand moving to rub your thigh. He waits a few seconds letting you take some more breaths. 

“What happened do you remember?” He asks. You nod but you feel like you can’t say it something builds in your throat. 

“The gun.” Is all you manage it coming out with a sob.

“Ah, shit I'm sorry. I didn’t think.” He says his hands come up to find your face. You’re trying to shake your head. He shouldn’t have to constantly worry about you.

“It’s not real, just a prop Greg uses so we can test the suits.” He sighs, you don’t know if you believe him but you don’t care. 

“I should have guessed it wasn’t going to be a regular tailors shop.” You say smiling, his hand cups your cheek. 

“I know, I should have told you. I’ll warn you next time.” He says. 

“It’s okay,” you say standing up. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me-” 

He stops you planting his lips on yours. You close your eyes letting his hands run over you, as he presses himself against you. You can feel his warmth, his tongue pressing in your mouth, it's a familiar dance grounding you as you moan, letting yourself relax. 

He pulls away, you look up at him, his eyes twinkling in the low light. 

“Don’t worry about me, I will be here for you no matter what. I want to make sure you’re happy and you feel safe.” He says his thumb rubbing your cheek. 

“I am safe, I am happy. This won’t happen again.” You say, you want to believe the words coming out his mouth. For his sake at least.

“It will, but I'll be there, every time.” He kisses your forehead. “How about this, I’ll pay Greg, get the boys to take a taxi home and we can go out for a nice meal. Wherever you fancy.” He says. 

“I feel bad for leaving them stranded.” You say. 

“Don’t. They’ll be fine, besides they’re going to be here for a while.” He smiles. You nod, sniffling and composing yourself. His hands leave your body as he heads back into the room coming out a few minutes later. You loop your arm in his and you quickly walk out to the car.

“They didn’t mind?” You ask as he turns the engine on. 

“I gave them the company card and told them to treat themselves.” He smiles. 

“John left me in charge of that, he’ll be so mad if Johnny over spends.” You say gripping your seatbelt.

“Let me worry about Price.” Simon chuckles. “So where do you want to eat?” 

You look out the window as you drive out the parking garage. It feels like a weight has been lifted as soon as you’re out to the main road. 

“Pizza.” You say reaching over to squeeze his thigh. You looks at you smiling. 

You’re back in the city centre at some Italian place that you’re sure is way too fancy. You feel like you should have made a reservation but Simon seems to be chummy with the maître d' and before you know it you’re being seated and offered complimentary champagne. 

Simon refuses but you gladly drink it down after the morning you’ve had. You let him order, picking the food. 

“So does this mean I'm always going to be afraid of shopping centres?” You ask reaching over and grabbing his hand. 

“We’ll talk about it another time. I promise. Lets just enjoy lunch.” He says.

“I love you.” You say squeezing his hand.

“I love you too.” He smiles squeezing it back. 

The food comes soon after, pizza’s and a caprese salad, plenty of garlic bread and enough chili oil you feel like you could drown in it. You eat and listen to Simon talk, he seems enthusiastic for once, the thought of the job behind him. For the first time in a long time it feels like you’re truly spending time with him.  

“I think I’m going to look for a new flat.” You say suddenly. Simon turns to look at you. 

“Where do you think you will move to?” He asks. 

“I don’t know, do you have any good ideas?” You ask watching for his reaction. 

“There’s nice flats in canary wharf.” he says. 

“Bit pricey.” You chuckle, taking a drink. He doesn’t seem to be getting it, your glances seem to just be putting him on edge. You let out a sigh leaning across the table to him. 

“I’m asking you to move in with me.” You say smiling. He frowns for a second. You lean back. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

“If you want. I mean you don’t have to. If you don’t want to. If it’s too soon.” You blurt out heat rushing to your cheeks. You feel bad but you’re already practically living together. Then he chuckles, you look up at him smiling at you. 

“What?” You ask, feeling really embarrassed now. He reaches across the table picking up your hand. 

“I was waiting to ask you. You beat me to it.” You look up at him frowning. “I’ve been looking for flats for the last few weeks. I didn’t want to ask you until I had a place I could show you.” 

“Really?” You ask not quite believing him. He nods.

“I love you, of course I would love to live with you.” He kisses the back of your hand. You get up off your feet going round to him and kissing him properly. 

 —————————— 

You’re rudely woken the next morning by John hammering on your door. You’re getting out of bed when he lets himself in. 

“What the hell! How do you have a key?” You ask, still rubbing the sleep out your eyes. He’s wearing a black suit and shirt. He holds up a similar suit in a bag. Simon comes behind you.

“Simon gave me a key.” He says as he throws the hanger to Simon.

“For emergencies.” Simon grumbles going to the bathroom. John comes over to you, handing you 2 radios and a phone.

“Work phone, keep it on you at all times. Gaz set it up with alerts for Charlotte, she starts spouting on social media let me know.” He says you just nod at him taking it all in. He turns around to see the bathroom door closed and the shower start.

“No time for a shower Riley, we’re already late!” He calls. You hear the shower turn off. 

“What’s going on? I thought we weren't needed for a few more days.” You say looking down at the radios and earpieces. 

“She wants us to be there for her rehearsal, it will give us a good chance to test equipment.” John says. You nod, sighing and heading back out the door. Simon comes out of the bathroom half dressed buttoning his shirt up. He does look good in a suit. 

“Good morning.” He smiles. 

“Morning.” You smile back at him, putting the radio’s and phone on the table. You dress as quickly as you can pulling on the clothes you had ready for the first day. When you come out Simon is fully dressed he already has his mask tucked under his chin. 

You go over to him untangling the mess of radios. He comes over to you with one in his hands. 

“You look good, very smart.” He hums as he attaches the radio to the front of your high waist pants. You can’t help your fingers moving over to him as he fiddles with the wires.

“Don’t look too bad yourself.” You say. He does look really good in a suit. He pushes your hair behind your ear pressing the transparent earpiece in. 

“Comfy?” He asks as your hand goes up to feel it. You wiggle it before nodding. He smiles, kissing your cheek connecting his own up. He has a special hidden pocket, his jacket hiding the bulky black radio perfectly. You feel out of place with yours just stuck on your hip. 

“It’s already tuned, we’ll always be on the same frequency.” He sighs. 

“What?” You ask.

“I don’t know how to teach you years of radio etiquette in a few seconds. His hand runs up to turn your radio on. You hear a click and a burst of static. 

“This is your volume, this is where you speak, you will have to press and hold the button. There’s a slight delay so wait a second before talking. Like this.” He presses the button on what looks like a volume controller. It’s stuck on the pocket of his vest. 

“Soap, I went to the aquarium this weekend, but I didn’t stay long.” He says smiling. 

“Yeah?” Johnny’s voice comes back in your ear. 

“Yeah, There’s something fishy about that place.” Simon says. You chuckle. 

“Will you two hurry up? We were supposed to be there at 9.” John says. You look down at your watch, it's almost 10. Simon smiles as you follow him out the flat locking the door behind you. It feels strangely powerful dressed in a pants suit and an earpiece. 

“Do you have to say over and copy and all that stuff?” You ask as you walk to the car waiting outside.

“You don’t have to. I’ll tell you more when we’re there.” He says opening the door for you. Kyle scoots to the middle and you get in. 

“Looking good lass.” Johnny calls leaning over to see you. You smile at him but you can’t tell if he’s mocking you or not. You’re too tired. The drive to the O2 goes quicker than you think. John drives through some gates and round into a staff car park. There’s a massive tour bus parked near some open doors. 

You assume since the bus has a massive billboard of her latest album plastered on the side it belongs to Kira. 

Everyone gets out of the car and one by one John gives orders out with each person leaving until it’s only you and John left. John leads you through to a room and when you walk in it looks like a green room. Sofas and coffee table with magazines, refreshments including a coffee machine and water cooler. 

The thing that makes it stand out though is the desk with multiple monitors. You can see some of them are looking at the main stage with lights flashing. John walks over to the desk pulling the chair back. 

“This is where you’ll be. Watching us.” John says you walk over sitting in the chair and pulling it under the desk. John comes behind you showing you how to control the cameras, and the rest of the software you’re not used to. 

It’s easy enough, you get a whole overview of the main hall and back passages all the way out to the back parking where you came in. 

“I’m assuming Simon gave you the baby's first guide on how to use the radio?” John asks. 

“Always says over and out. Don’t forget to always call John daddy.” You say teasing him. He sighs. 

“Keep the channel clear as much as possible, you’ll pick up when and when not to talk. Only use call signs.” John reaches forward and flicks open a book. “I wrote them all down, bravo call signs and the others.” 

“Ghost, Soap, Gaz. I get it.” You say looking down the list. Your name is there too. “Watcher one?” 

“Yeah, well, you are watching us.” He says. You nod looking up at him. 

“Anything else I need to know?” 

“You’ll pick it up, I promise. It’s not as daunting as it seems.” He says placing his hands on your shoulder and squeezing. “We’ll take the next few days to test things out, get used to things.” 

“I’m sure I'll figure it out.” You promise him. 

“Yeah you will.” He steps away from you. “C’mon we need to meet with her and her manager. Get instructions from them, paperwork needs signing.” 

You nod, getting up and following him through the back passages of the building, past more greenrooms, changing rooms, the things you would expect to see behind a stage. When you make it to Kira’s room you see Kyle already waiting outside. You watch John talk to Kyle who’s leaning up against a crate of something. 

“How’s it going lass, Price talked your ear off?” He asks, throwing his arm around you. 

“Yeah, he told me all about the real reason for your call sign. You stuck a bar of soap up your ass.” You say. He laughs causing John and Kyle to look over at you both. Johnny walks over to them with open arms calling over at John. You smile watching them as your work phone pings.

You bring it out looking at the notification. She’s doing it again, calling people out only this time it’s not the fan group it’s the terrorists. The same ones Simon was chasing. The ones who killed your brother, Hannah. 

You feel anger rise as you read them. 

“What the fuck.” You say anger thick in your voice you’re almost shaking as adrenaline pumps through you. How dare she. You look up and rush forward bursting through the door to her dressing room. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” She shouts standing up off the sofa 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You snap back, holding your phone so she can she. She squints at the screen. “You said you would stop posting.” 

“What?” She asks confused, shaking her head.

“My brother was killed. By the terrorists you’re so casually calling out. You might think you’re untouchable but it’s not you who will get hurt, it's innocent people. Like my brother.”

“Are you not going to do anything about this? I want her out of here!” She calls looking past you at whoever is behind you. You know John and Simon are there at least. 

“You did say you would stop the posts.” John says. 

“If you let them think they can win you’re just as bad as them.” She says throwing her hands up then crossing her arms.

“They’re not going to win. What do you think this is some kind of game? These people do actual harm. You can’t be that stupid!” You shout back, you’re shaking with anger. There’s sadness too, your brother's death can’t be for nothing. 

You always thought celebrities don’t care about regular people, this is just hammering that point home. Right now you’re angry and you hate her.

“This is ridiculous. I want you all out of here!” She snaps calling for her manager. A hand comes on your shoulder but that just makes you even more angry. You shrug the hand off and take a step up to her. 

“Look. I really don’t care what you say or what you think is right but you’re putting my friends lives at risk. You’re paying them to put their lives on the line for you. Every time you do this you increase the chance of them getting hurt, actually physical harm do you understand that?” Your voice is low as you look in her eyes leaning forward. 

You see something switch, there’s fear there, she nods closing her mouth. “I don’t care what happens to you but I do care gravely what happens to them. And so help you God if they get hurt because of your stupid, childish actions.” 

“What the bloody hell is going on!” A voice calls out. There's a hand on your shoulder this time pulling you back. You let him turning to look at everyone in the room and Richard, her manager walking in with a confused look on his face. Kira starts shouting as you walk past them all out the room. 

You hear John protesting as the door slams closed behind you. You’re embarrassed the adrenaline is wearing off. You’re thinking about your brother, he’s dead and she’s calling them ‘pussies’ for the world to see. 

Your hands are balled into fists as you look at the ground fighting back the tears. Johnny and Kyle don’t say anything as Simon’s hand lands on the small of your back. You step away wrapping your arms around your chest.

“I’ll meet you back at the van.” You say trying not to let your voice falter as you walk away without looking back.  

You’re half way through a cigarette when Johnny and John walk towards you. You take one last breath before throwing it on the floor and stamping it out. 

“I’m sorry.” You say as soon as John reaches you. He chuckles and you look at Johnny smiling too. 

“You don’t have to apologise to me.” John says. You let out a sigh, yes you do, he’s your boss you let your emotions take over. You should have been professional. 

“You did good.” Johnny says John holds his hand up. 

“She doesn’t want you near her anymore.” John says. You nod, it makes sense.  

“Yeah I assumed that.” You say taking out another cigarette. You’ve just smoked one but you already feel like you need another one. “I’ll just sit in the office, do all the paperwork. Hang out with William.” 

Johnny chuckles again. “You’re not going anywhere. She doesn’t need to know you’re around. We need you to do your job more than she needs to be happy.” 

“What so I have to hide now?” You ask.

“No, you have to do your job. Keep your distance, but more importantly keep us safe.” John says, stepping closer to you. You swallow hard, a lump in your throat. You don’t know if you’re ready to have their life in your hands.

“You can do that right?” John asks, handing you his lighter. You accept it, putting the cigarette between your lips and lighting it. You hand the lighter back to him. 

“Watcher one right?” You say turning your head to blow the smoke away. They smile and John puts the lighter back in his pocket. 

“Watcher one.” John replies.

Next

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[vanilladiorr]

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘁 𝗖𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 – 𝘗𝘢𝘶 𝘊𝘶𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘪

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Summary: Pau, your neighbor, had always liked you, but he could never express it because of how shy he was. And one day while stargazing with you he finally let it out..

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Pairing: Pau x FEM!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warning/s: None

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A/n: This is my first time writing on tumblr, so pls forgive me for any mistakes, There might be some grammatical mistakes. Forgive me for that too.

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Laying on your bed lazily, you looked at the ceiling. A sigh left your mouth as you put on your headphones. "Today sucked," you muttered to yourself.

You scrolled through your phone, searching for a relaxing piece of music. Once you picked one, you looked out of your window before turning your back to it.

On the other hand.

Pau, your neighbor, was quietly grabbing his bag, preparing to sneak out of his house and make his way over to yours.

He slowly and quietly climbed up to your window, taking advantage of the cover of night to ensure no one would notice him sneaking out.

Once he reached the window, he peeked inside, his eyes falling on your back as you lay on the bed.

You lay silently on the bed, your eyes closed as you silently listened to the peaceful music through your headphones, completely unaware of the figure watching you quietly..

You were startled as Pau suddenly tapped your shoulder, causing you to almost whisper-yell at him, "What are you doing here?"

He put his finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. "Let's go," he whispered, "I've found a new spot where we can have an amazing view of the stars."

"I don't feel like it," you stated firmly, only to be forcefully pulled out of the bed by Pau.

"you will"

After a good ten minutes of relentless convincing, you reluctantly agreed. As Pau and you quietly sneaked out of your house, heading towards the spot he suggested.

The spot he led you to was quite nice. He sat down on the grass and patted the spot next to him, motioning for you to sit as well.

He looked at you with concern, asking, "How was your day? I noticed you were looking upset all day."

You silently focused on the stars above, stars that glimmered in the night sky. "It's nothing," you responded, "I just had a fight." Pau nodded in understanding.

Gradually, the mood began to lighten as Pau continued to crack jokes and share stories about his day, all in an effort to bring a smile to your face.

Your lips curled into a warm smile as you spoke, "Pau, you're such a sweetheart,"

His cheeks flushed with a soft tinge of pink as he melted under your words. He met your gaze, a gentle smile playing on his lips, and said, "You too, but you're my sweetheart."

He immediately realized his slip-up and apologized, but you couldn't help but let out a lighthearted laugh.

"it's okay" you said

"Pau, if you had a chance to make a wish upon a shooting star, what would you wish for?" You asked.

His heart quickened its tempo as he confessed, "There's a girl I've liked for years. So I would wish for her to be mine." He spoke without looking at you, the color in his cheeks betraying his flustered state.

"who?" You asked quitely

"the one sitting beside me" he said, Your breath caught in your chest as his words hit you, and your cheeks began to burn.

"Excuse me what?" You asked again

He took a deep breath, his words coming in a rush as he confessed, "I like you, Y/N. I've liked you ever since we were freshmen. I like you too much." His voice trembled with both nervousness and excitement, his eyes searching yours.

He confessed further, explaining the reason behind his sudden confession. "Seeing you smile at that boy yesterday scared me. I got worried that you might like him, so I decided to confess my feelings to you before anything happened."

A warm smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied, "I don't like him, he's just a friend of mine. In fact..." You paused, mustering up your courage before confessing. "...I like you too."

"Really?" He asked, not believing what he just heard.. You nodded "Yes"

You wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace, and he responded by holding you even tighter in return. Then, he asked, flustered and all nervous "Can I be your boyfriend?"

"Of course" you said

He couldn't help but smile as your response, a sense of joy washed over him. He met your gaze, his eyes filled with a depth of love and affection, and he reached out to gently caress your cheek.

You felt a gentle caress upon your neck as he slowly moved closer, Kissing your lips slowly and gently, he moved his hands to caress ur cheek.

You pulled away, looking directly into his eyes, and stated with a soft smile, "I like you!" you said.

"I love you"

[kash-heals]

i’ll never forget how i was sitting beside my older brother and i was like “damn.. liam from one direction just passed.” the look of horror on his face … and i was confused as fuck because he’s never listened to one direction so wtf.? and he jumped up and grabbed his phone and facetimed his gf (who was already in mid break down) and he was just like “i’m coming baby i’m on my way” dropped everything. picked her up from work. and literally held her the entire night while she watched the one direction movie over and over again. got her ice cream. listened to their music with her. everything. then our town movie theater showed the movie and he made sure she had the best seats. and idk… that’s a different kinda love you know? i used to laugh at how much girls loved one direction.. until i saw how one death impacted someone close to me.

[wanderingmind867]

Everyone knows the pina colada song written by rupert holmes, but like a year or two ago (I don't remember time exactly), i ended up listening to the whole song (plus pretty much the entire album it was a part of). The songs are all really good, and we don't talk about rupert holmes the songwriter enough. Even the pina colada song is a song about a married couple who lose their spark, but regain their love for each other through an attempted affair. I can't explain as well as the song itself does. But you know, the lyrics are powerful.

I like when songs do that. When they tell stories and paint pictures and all of that. It makes them feel more intense, sometimes. A lot of older music did that (i'm not saying it doesn't happen now, of course. I'm just saying i notice it more in older 60s, 70s and 80s music). You get songs from people like rupert holmes or billy joel or whatever, and the lyrics manage to touch my emotions. If a song can make you feel something... then i'd say it's been written pretty well.

[jula483]

still in shock after being 4 rows away from David Tennant for 2 hours on Monday, January 15th 💖

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Guys the world is so fucking beautiful... these clumps of weeds look like slug critters with eyestalks.... peace and love on planet earth

[brunetteaura]

going on a heavy restriction of the use of my phone because its ruining my life and genuinely not letting me do things that i want to do consistently bc they feel too hard. i wont live my best life and evolve if i check my phone first thing in the morning if i dont let myself be in silence for the most part of the day and have my hands free if instead of journaling before sleep i go on tumblr and ruin my sleep schedule due to procrastination of that and so and so. like yeah i get things done but i dont like the pacing and the fact that even an hour of my day is being wasted on this stupid device in a mindless way i really want to put my whole attention into this ive already been asking myself a lot of the times what is it that i wanna do so ive been using my phone way less compared to previous years but i need to be more concentrated more focused and serious about it its genuinely a problem like what sense does it make to want to do something and then do it half assed and lazily. feel/think -> action -> result i will put my heart into things because its what i deserve to give to myself

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

does anyone ever miss having a cd player

[stuckinapril]

I am so glad that I’m setting aside time to volunteer.

[zoppzoop]

Vent