#i couldn't believe you sent this to my ask box

[kquil]

Hi pookie! Here is me feeling so many emotions reading the sixth chapter of DOB. (∩˃ω˂∩)

James’ bold protectiveness over Sirius was heartwarming, he never had anybody stand up for him against his father much like this.

Before that, Sirius made sure to keep Regulus out of trouble, vowing to protect his little brother and avoid trouble for his sake alone.

James’ display was refreshing and touched his heart. And it was what gave Sirius the strength to willingly go with Filch.  

ARE YOU KIDDING ME IM GOING TO CRY.

An eleven year old having to protect his younger brother and not act on his true feelings, purely for the sake of his brother’s safety. He learnt self sacrifice at such a young age. Then, finally meeting someone that stands up for him from the beginning of his first year unabashedly without any doubt—little lion feels safe at Hogwarts (╥﹏╥)

Orion had been even more disgraced but in his own home this time; his wife had ordered their filthy, useless house elf to move all her belongings into a spare bedroom. 

They no longer shared a bed. 

Orion’s dumbfounded, LOL. The absolute disgrace that they no longer share a bed! I think a part of him might like Walburga, because she was/is the “perfect mother” for his offspring. Maybe even grew to love her to some extent or at least grew attached to how things were before her attitude changed; before reader came through. Personally I’d like to see him get fooled by the reader “doting” on him and leaving him in the dust. That’s the least he can pay for the harm he has caused to literal children. 

Reader do your thing ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

But he should have listened to his wife.

I giggled so hard. He’s such a man child and not even adorable. Just a horrible man. At least Sirius grows up to be an adorable man child. (he’s more annoying than his father) (At least he’s cute)

“I hope that your boy has had the time to eat his breakfast as well,” Orion looks at the headmaster, stopping his impatient foot tapping when he notices the mysterious gleam in the elderly wizard’s eyes, “we wouldn’t want him going to class with an empty stomach,” 

Dumbledore is a menace and I will always stand by it!!!!

This is your new life’s mission now. 

I don’t think the boys would want to be like their father either. The horror on Regulus’ face in some years when he realizes that Sirius is a man-child just like their father and his mum is doting on him. On Sirius, the man-child! Oh the horror! 

Regulus is a man-child too. (he denies it vehemently)

“Darling, who are we to get in the way of your father’s demands? He was ever so insistent,” an amused giggle passes between the two of you and Regulus is finally able to relax a bit. He makes a mental note to write about your uncharacteristic mischief to Sirius in an upcoming letter.

I love imagining myself as the reader because I am incredibly cheeky. Can’t wait to see Sirius’ reaction on his mum’s cheekiness. I think we can clearly see where all that mischief comes from hehe. James Potter is going to serenade reader for passing on her mischief to Sirius one day. I’m pretty sure one of the little maruraders, especially Remus will end up harboring a crush on reader. Peter would get flustered and James would love how she dotes on all of them as her own.

“This goes beyond mere education, professor,” you look into her eyes and are met with agreement, “Surely, you can agree that the matter is useless kicking up such a fuss over and that my husband is entirely wrong. In this matter, I am right in saying he is being an idiot by publicly throwing a tantrum,” you tut in displeasure, “The humiliation of it all is almost unbearable,” at your side, you hear Regulus choke on his laughter and crack a smile, giving his small hand a light squeeze. Finally, McGonagall allows a smirk to stretch across her lips but before she can make any comment of agreement, you’ve already reached the gargoyle entrance to the Headmaster’s office.  

Regulus is adorable. McGonagall is so cheeky. I love how bold and open the reader is in expressing her disdain.

McGonagall never expected you to be so warm and pleasant —it’s easy to misjudge the character of a person simply from third-party accounts and retellings. She’ll have to rethink her own prejudices and biases moving forward.  

Something we all must do. Always introspect and self reflect!!!

“I told you so,” you voice blankly and with an unamused face to match.

Reader is a menace to Orion and I serenade her.

Me when reader puts Orion in his place:

( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩) ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡ ദ���ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

“Touch my son again, and you’ll be falling from the tower without your wand, Orion,” you threaten through clenched teeth of your own as the man stares at you in wide-eyed shock, his expression reflected onto the Headmaster. 

Thank you, my beloved Kquil for writing this masterpiece of a paragraph. I shall always remember the hand that dared to slap Orion Black. 

Regulus immediately begins to calm down and smiles to himself at the warm feeling of protection surrounding him. 

baby (｡Ó﹏Ò｡)

-turning away from your staggering husband and the amused headmaster, you look at Sirius with pride. Leaning over Regulus to press a kiss onto his older brother’s forehead he’s able to hear your tender whisper of pride, “I’m so proud of you, darling,”

I love how she got the chance to praise him in person within just a few days. Kind of a blessing in disguise.

“A dream come true, it’s just that.” you laugh again, “I still can’t believe it — you’re my son,” Sirius smiles as you cup his cherubic face with your gentle, loving hands. He’s stuck between jumping for joy and doing a happy dance but settles for shyly avoiding your gaze and smiling down at your wrists, where he witnesses your thumbs lovingly caressing his cheekbones in his periphery. 

You’re making me tear up over my fictional children finally receiving the love and affection they always deserved.

“Of course, you’ll get a pin too, baby,” you seal the promise by pressing a kiss to the back of Regulus’ head, who spins around to face you so quickly, you fear he might have gotten whiplash but the smile on his face was enough assurance. 

“Really, Mother?”

“Really really,”

I’m crying.

Behind him, Regulus appears at your side, walking at a more leisurely pace. You and his little brother take a moment to lock eyes with him from the great hall entrance. Both of you smile and give him a small wave, leaving unhurriedly when he returns the gesture. But not before you blow him a kiss with a devious smile on your lips. 

hehehehe, I would definitely embarrass the hell out of my child. These little moments make me smile so hard, my jaw hurts!

“She’s pretty,” James comments, almost gushing as Remus nods along demurely, blushing down into his morning tea.

Very demure, very mindful. (Sorry had to say that! hahaha tiktok brainrot)

Damocles incessantly shakes his head, his lips pressed into a thin line as his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s gripping his shop’s door handle, “my dearest Ruth is my top priority right now and she’s terribly sick at the moment, please — I’m sure this can wait!” with that, he slams the door shut, causing you and Regulus to flinch at the harsh sound.

Could it be that Ruth is a werewolf… Σ(°ロ°)

“Madam Black,” Filgus smiles at you, content with your polite, formal greeting. He smiles at Regulus too, who mirrors the goblin greeting at your side, “How may I help you?” he smirks beneath his long and pointed nose. Past the reflections of his monocle, you catch a faint gleam in his eyes, though you can’t comprehend exactly what emotion stands behind it. Was it excitement? Curiosity? Something else entirely, perhaps… “Will you be requesting another commission for our services?” you smile, finally understanding the look in his black, black eyes. 

The first time you had come to him for commission request, he had been surprised and you suppose he had been able to conceal his delight well but now his disappointment was more obvious. It made you want to giggle but you didn’t want to accidentally offend him or any of the other goblins nearby so you kept your amusement to yourself. 

At least I can giggle to myself ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) 

“Y-you’re going to disown me and Sirius…“ he sobs before throwing himself at your lap and crying into your skirt, “Please don’t disown us, we’ll be good, I promise!” you couldn’t take hearing his tearful cries any longer and you scoop him up again so you could hug him tightly as he wraps his arms over your shoulders to sob into your neck, his legs wrapping around your waist. 

Poor baby, I hope him and Sirius can heal from the trauma caused by Orion and Walburga. I love how he still attached himself to the reader, shows how subconsciously he knows she is his safe space.

Ruth looks at her husband’s thoughtful countenance. She feels such guilt for burdening him with her condition but she doesn’t regret marrying him and promising to share the rest of her life with the kind man. Damocles makes the effort to always support her and assure her that he loves her regardless of her condition and affiliated insecurities. He loves her for her smile, her beautiful eyes, her delicious cooking, her kind heart, her precious love of books, her talent for embroidery, her loving words and the fact that he feels whole with her. The moment he said his vows and uttered the words ‘I do’, he had pledged to take care of her wholeheartedly and he intends to keep that promise, in the same fashion she does.    

“Sweetheart…” Ruth pleads with her eyes, staring up at her husband as tears well up in their eyes. They don’t know your full intentions but they’re willing to do whatever it takes. 

‘I want to take care of her,’

‘I want to be good to him’

“…alright, it’s a deal,”

These two are so special to me now. I’m so glad Reader is going to fund them and help both Ruth and Remus along the way (and many others!). Hopefully this time around with reader, the potion is created sooner than expected.

“Mistress! Mistress!” Kreacher appears out of thin air, tugging anxiously at his ears with eyes as wide as saucers. The panic in his watery gaze sets your own heart racing with apprehension. You already know what may be happening.

“Where is Regulus?”

“The vault, Mistress! The vault!”

My heart broke. THIS IS NOT OKAY. And poor Kreacher :( 

 You had nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. Regulus was frightened and shaken up by his father’s aggressive and malicious expression of contempt, you had done nothing. Regulus would willingly go through that all over again if it meant his father didn’t get to touch Sirius. For the longest time, Sirius had been his only protector and now he has you too. He can bear anything if it means keeping his older brother safe the same way he kept Regulus safe before you came to protect both of them. For the longest time, it felt as if they were the only two people who truly understood each other — it still largely feels that way — and that they were the only ones who knew how to protect each other properly. But that wasn’t the case anymore because they have you now. Beautiful, amazing, motherly you. 

You capture an abusive home so well. It seems weird to compliment it, but you truly capture how much an abusive home impacts one’s life. How the children have to become adults for each other.

‘Enjoy the explosive diarrhoea you disgusting prick’

NO WAY HAHAHAHAAHAHAHA

‘Your sickening plans for that pin were too much of a distraction!’Walburga excuses as you keep quiet. If you interrupt her ramblings, you won’t be able to pick up on the reasoning behind her actions. It’s best to let her get ahead of herself, the fool, ‘Typical for a soft-hearted, feeble muggle like you! Celebrating such a dishonourable sorting ceremony result! It’s simply humiliating! Rather than that revolting pin, I sent that no good son of mine a howler the day after his sorting. Useless child! He’s no Black, he’s a no-good, mud-blood-loving, blood-traitor who likes to engage with half-breeds and is an utter disgrace to his family! Associating himself with that ‘light’ Potter family, engaging with filthy mudbloods and blood traitors — dirty! The lot of them! Regulus is my only good child, if only he hadn’t gotten himself killed trying to leave the organisation, he would have been my perfect son!’

‘H— How do you know that?…and how do you know about his ‘half-breed’ friend you vile piece of shit?’ as always, her disgusting attitude makes your blood boil on Remus’ and Ruth’s behalf. How dare she act so high and mighty when she’s the most unpleasant person to ever exist? She doesn’t answer your question, instead, she becomes eerily quiet once more. Scoffing at her cowardly departure from the conversation, you make an urgent annotation in your notebook. Hopefully, this will lead to some answers. 

‘Investigate the first room you woke up in’

Oh, OH. This is getting interesting. You’re keeping us all on our toes by leaving us on cliffhangers, Kquil. I see you.

I went through a rollercoaster of emotions, you have outdone yourself once again! I am so glad I stumbled upon your series and decided to read it, this is truly one of the best things that I discoverers in 2024. I hope you’ve been doing well 🩷 I shall respond to your reply to my precious message now.

-🌸

OH....MY.... GOOODNESSSSSS! DARLING! my jaw dropped to the floor when i saw your monstrous (in a good way) ask in my inbox, i wanted to reply right away but i had some personal things happening but i am here now! let me go through that rollar coaster with you (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)

oh my goodness, yes! that's my personal headcanon for sirius and regulus' relationship pre-hogwarts and pre-regulus being sorted into Slytherin. it was kind of inspired by my older brother and his subtle protectiveness over me when we were younger, even though we'd still get into petty fights lol (siblings stuff y'know?) -- but yeah... pretty tragic for our darling babies, they deserve better but sirius finally has his second home now! with the lions! wooooo!

mmmm~ i like what you're saying about orion and his relationship with the previous, original walburga, very interesting and it makes perfect sense, in the twisted way that his and OG walburga thinking go. haha! but that's so true, he'd get such whiplash from the switch-up though, i think our reader will make it sting a little more (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) also orion is the ultimate man child, i bet he still wears diapers-- actually, he should probably start wearing diapers after this chapter (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑) 

i don't like dumbledore very much for what he did to harry but i loved writing him deviously in this chapter hehe~ ( ≧ᗜ≦)

and no, the boys definitely don't want to be like orion, his actions have already really hurt them and when they have reader to compare him to, it's obvious who the bad person is -- our babies are much smarter than him too, they know better!

haha! of course, you're a cheeky menace (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑) but i bet you look adorable scheming so hardly anybody stays mad at you for long haha! and oof! no spoiler but i can guarantee that reader will have a profound effect on the marauders as well as maybe some of sirius and regulus' other classmates too (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝) -- and you're definitely on the right track, my darling <3

ugh i love writing regulus being an absolute cutie-pie and I've been so excited to write about mcgonagall, you won't believe how happy i was when i could finally write for her! more of them and plenty of other characters are still yet to come too! and yes! i'm going to try my best to have something to learn from each character.

'always introspect and self reflect' yes ma'am! i couldn't have said it better myself!

oh yeah, it's so satisfying to write about reader bringing justice for our babies onto orion, it's all very well deserved so i'm more than happy to deliver on that ৻(  •̀ ᗜ •́  ৻)

it was really important to me that reader got to have that moment with sirius in person and regulus too (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡ so im really happy you agree. and, of course, i have to make sure reader gets every opportunity to embarrass siri (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)

awww~ you're not the only one crying, my darling; i'm there with you, writing this series gets me so emotional (っ˃̣̣̥ -˂̣̣̥ς) that finaly scene with regulus especially! thank you so much for saying so, i will definitely take that as a compliment haha! i do my best to write those types of scenes and interactions with as much care as possible, sometimes they're the ones that are the hardest to write so thank you my love <3

also i'm so so so happy you're enjoying Damocles and Ruth, they're my favourite, most fleshed out semi-OC and OC, i'm going to take as much good care of them as i will our favourite marauder babies

cliffhangers are my favourite thing, don't you know? haha! yes yes, things are only just beginning, more is yet to come! hehe~ ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ thank you for taking the time and effort to write me your thoughts, that's also so much high praise, i can't stop smiling. this series has really become something so special and it's all thanks to the loveliest darlings in the world and by that, i mean you, mwah! ( ˶˘ ³˘(ˊᗜˋ*)!♡

[captain-huggy-bear]

"Can- Can you come over please?" (I believe prompt list 1 number 80?) with whoever you're inspired for please 😊 thank you! - em

Em, it was giving soft boy Luke who's maybe feeling shitty after a bad game, so I hope you like it. First time writing Luke so I'm super sorry if it doesn't feel right for him (as we think of him because obvs we don't know him but still) Also I like how I was like let's write something short and then...just kept writing...😂 Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You'd been friends with Luke Hughes for almost as long as he'd been in New Jersey, both of you new to the city at the time had stumbled into each other quite literally one wintery afternoon. Your coffee going all over his hoodie, his doughnut squishing chocolate icing over your sweater. You'd expected him to yell, instead you learnt that day how utterly sweet and kind Luke Hughes was. He replaced your coffee and refused to let you buy him a new doughnut, but did let you invite him over so you could put some stain remover on his hoodie.

You might be thinking, 'are you crazy? Inviting a strange man to your apartment?', but you can only explain your risk through two pieces of information: 1) You knew roughly who he was. You weren't a fan of his by any means but you followed Hockey and had heard about the newest addition to the Devils, so you at least knew he wasn't a criminal, 2) Luke Hughes had been wearing snoopy socks and something about that had screamed 'non-threatening'.

Looking back it was probably slightly insane on your part, but it bagged you a close friend who you may or may not have had a massive crush on, so you couldn't really say you regretted risking it.

It wasn't unusual for Luke to phone you after a game, more often than not you got a quick phone call or a few texts sent through while he was out celebrating or commisserating with the team, often being invited out even when he knew you weren't much for late nights out on the town.

It was unusual though for that phone call to come in at 1 in the morning while you were sleeping.

You're groggy and half awake, hand patting the bedside table until you grip your phone, Luke's ringtone blarring through the speakers only because he was one of your few exceptions. One of a handful of people who could call you after 11pm without being sent straight to voicemail, the others being your family.

"Lukey? It's..." You stop to squint at your alarm clock, "1:41 in the morning, what's wrong?" You knew the game had ended late, but Luke should have been in bed by now or he should have been out partying with Jack and the boys, definitely not phoning you. You half expected him to be drunk on the other end of the line, maybe having phoned you while out with the team.

Instead his breath is shaky on the other end of the line, voice raspy like he's been crying and that's what has you sitting upright and swinging your legs out of bed before he even finishes his question.

"Can- Can you come over please?" His voice is scratchy and strained, a rasp that sounds defeated. You don't even considering getting changed from your pajamas, you just throw a jacket on from your closet.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, what's wrong?"

"Just...just come over please, angel" You're quick timing it as you shove your feet in a pair of shoes and grab your keys off the side, locking your apartment door behind you. It didn't matter to you that it was nearly 2am or that you hadn't brushed your hair or that you were half-asleep, all that mattered was Luke and the way he sounded like the world might be just a little too much for him right now.

"Okay, okay, want me to stay on the line?"

"No, just...drive safe?" You pause in the hallway, heart hurting at his concern, that even now when he's begging for your help he cares that you're safe.

"Yeah, course, Lu, i'm leaving right now, sweetheart." He lets out a shuddering breath on the line, right before he hangs up and you're certain you might cry because God, Luke shouldn't sound like that, so utterly defeated, so fragile.

You do your best to honour his request on the drive to his and Jack's apartment, even as you want to break a hundred traffic laws just to get there sooner, but you don't. It doesn't take long, but ten minutes feels like one hundred when all you want is to be see Luke and make sure he's okay.

He's at the door from the first knock and you don't say anything, just take him in. His tall form hunched at the shoulders like he's trying to hide within his hoodie, hood pulled over his head and eyes red rimmed, blotchy. There are dark, deep circles beneath his eyes and his lip is bruised and split, a few neatly placed stitches holding it together.

You don't say anything, just step forward and wrap him in your arms as best you can, tiptoeing to press your chin to his shoulder, arms tight around him as if you can protect him from whatever is going on in his head.

He grasps as you like you're a lifeline, fingers digging into your jacket, face pressed so tight to the crook of your neck that you're certain he'll fuse there.

He doesn't protest when you pull him into his apartment, door slamming shut. Doesn't protest when you pull him to his room, asking where Jack is, only to get a short clipped reply of 'club'. Doesn't protest when you sit him on his bed and join him, shoes being kicked off. It's not until you try to pull away from him that he really seems to come to life, hands grasping you firmer, pulling you back, "Don't go, please don't go..."

"'m not going anywhere, Lu, it's okay..." You pull back just enough that you can pull his hood back, fingers carding through his brown curls gently like he might break. "What happened?"

"Just needed you..." His face presses back into your shoulder as your fingers work through his hair like it's a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend, like he didn't call because he had a shit game, because he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Lu...talk to me, baby"

There's a stark silence, broken only by a shaky breathe that comes from Luke as if the idea of talking is enough to make him cry for the second time that night. "I'm...i'm not good enough for the team, did a shit job tonight and we lost...it's my fault. Played like shit."

"What did Jack say?" You're gentle with it, soft voice, soft fingers on the nape of his neck. It's silly, he knows he's being dramatic, he also knows that it's not a friend thing to do. Knows he wouldn't call any of his other friends at near 2am because he needs them, knows he wouldn't beg for their fingers in his hair to sooth him or feel better just by the smell of their laundry detergent and shampoo. Luke knows he called you because he loves you, pretty sure he loved you the moment you excitedly showed him you'd gotten the coffee stain out of his UMIC hoodie.

"I was being too hard on myself, that it wasn't the 'Luke Hughes show'." He immitates Jack's voice, a pouty sort of tone riding his voice because he knows his brother is right even if he refused to sit moping with him and went out drinking instead.

"He's right. Hockey is a team sport, Luke, you aren't even on the ice the entire time! You do not get to decide that you're the reason a game is won or lost, you don't get to shoulder that."

"But.." Your palms cup his face, pulling him up to look at you. Your face is dead serious brows furrowed, lips pursed.

"No, you're a good hockey player. They picked you to play for them because of what you bring to the table and maybe you didn't play your best tonight , but you deserve to be on the team. You can't always be at 100." Your thumbs brush his cheeks under his eyes, like you might be able to wipe away the dark bags there. He looks worn, exhausted, tears just welling in those green eyes of his.

You're not entirely sure he believes you, "If I said I wasn't good enough because I had a bad day at work, what would you say to me?"

"To shut up and stop being mean to yourself..." Luke frowns at you like you're insane for even suggesting something like that, and it's what makes you smile for the first time that night, as if to say I told you so.

"Exactly, so stop being mean to yourself, Lu. You're amazing, i'm always in awe of how you skate..." You brush a curl from his eyes and watch them flutter closed slightly, throat tightening a little because you know this isn't the way you're supposed to feel about your best friend.

"Really?"

"Really..." You watch him carefully, the way he just leans more into your hands like he trusts you entirely to hold him up, the deep swelling of his lip, the beauty marks across his cheeks. "What do you need from me, right now?"

He takes a moment, like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue whether unsure of how to ask or worried to make things weird. Both of you always toeing the line between friends and something decidedly more romantic.

"Can...can you just hold me? Just stay the night?" He blinks up at you with such big sweet eyes that you're not sure anyone would be able to refuse him, so you don't.

"I can do that."

You treat him delicately, like he's not a nearly 200 pound hockey player that regularly gets body slammed against boards and ice, who's covered in bruises and currently sporting a split lip. You pull him to lie down with you, curling around him like a protective blanket, pulling his face back into the crook of your neck, legs twisting with his. It's definitely not what friends do, but it's what he needs, so he grips you back tight, presses his face firmly into your neck and pulls your leg over his hip to be as close as possible.

You don't move more than the brush of fingers through his hair or down his arm, across his back. Even when you can hear soft snores, the sign of him having fallen asleep, you don't move because as much as Luke said he need this, you kind of need this too.

[totalswag]

worthy of love — RAFE CAMERON

authors note something short and cute for you guys. also, rafe deserves to be treated with the love that he desires. he just wants to be understood yall.

paring mean!rafe x soft!reader

summary soft!reader wants to show mean!rafe that he's worthy of love but he pushes reader away until one day he finally knows what love truly feel like.

warnings neglect, feeling unworthy of love, ward being a shitty father, and a lovely happy ending.

Rafe Cameron believed he would never be capable of love in his life.

Raised in a family where love was a rare commodity, Rafe grew up believing that affection, vulnerability was a weakness that should be avoided at all costs. But little did he know that someone was about to turn his life upside down and teach him the true meaning of love.

You.

His father, Ward Cameron, is part of the reason Rafe is the way he is. Ward tells him to man up rather than express his feelings and be vulnerable. Overall, his father has never treated him with the proper care compared to his two younger sisters. This sent Rafe into a downward spiral, leading to a darker path in his life. Rafe held his guard up.

You entered his world like a breath of fresh air, bringing with you a warmth and tenderness he had never felt before. Rafe first rejected your presence, pushing you away with his harsh remarks and cold demeanor. But you saw through his strong facade, understanding the agony and vulnerability that lay underneath the surface.

"Why do you treat me like this? I’m not someone that deserves to be loved." 

Rafe was initially perplexed as to why, of all the people on the island, someone as kind and gentle as you would want to be with him. 

One of the many things Rafe would tell you when you tried to show him that he’s capable of being loved by someone, he would shut you out immediately when you tried showing him.

People said you were crazy for pursuing Rafe Cameron. His reputation in Kildare is immense. You just chose to ignore what other people had to say because you felt Rafe deserved love.

The first time you heard those words come out of his mouth, your heart broke into a million pieces. Behind all of the roughness, coldness, and unpredictable behavior, he is someone who wants to be loved.

Rafe continued to push you away for the longest time, hoping you would get the hint. Finally, giving in after protracted arguments. For far too long, he had kept his guard up to protect himself. He did not want to feel weak for expressing himself. Rafe noticed how long you stayed by his side.

You gradually began to break down the walls Rafe had placed around his heart. You showed patience and understanding by refusing to give up on him, even when he tried to push you away. Rafe became increasingly drawn to you as time passed, yearning for the love and acceptance that had always escaped him.

Rafe started to trust again as your relationship deepened. He progressively exposed a gentler, softer side of himself, something he had never seen before. He realized there are individuals out there, like you, who care passionately and will be by his side through thick and thin.

All he ever wanted was to feel fully understood and seen. You came into his life when he was in the deepest pain and saved him. You showed he’s worthy of love, compassion, gratitude, and vulnerability are truly like, and there is nothing wrong with it. He transformed into a very different person than anyone could have predicted.

"You're the most amazing person I've ever laid eyes on, baby," Rafe said with a lovely smile on his lips, sliding the front strand of your hair behind your ear as you moved your body closer to his and closed your eyes.

“I love you so much rafey” kissing his bare shoulder a few times.

“And I love you more,”

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[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟔 ꕤ

Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader: bondage kink

summary: You decided to snoop around your boyfriend's Amazon wishlist, trying to find the perfect gift for your first month anniversary. You couldn't believe what he had saved.

warnings: smut, shibari use, bondage (duh), hyunjin being a cutie and hot at the same time

word count: 2.1k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

You and Hyunjin were only one week away from your first month anniversary and you were very excited and nervous at the same time. 

It had been your dream when Hyunjin finally got the courage to ask you out on a date. You had felt on top of the world, feeling like it was a freaking dream. He took you to a nice fancy restaurant, complimented you the entire night and then took you out on two more before finally asking you to be his girlfriend. 

It was recent, very new, and you still didn’t know him a hundred percent, so you weren’t really sure what to get him. 

A first month anniversary was a huge deal for you, and you didn’t want to disappoint him in the slightest. You knew he had a lot of money, so he could really buy anything he wanted. 

You thought you could buy him a camera, but literally the day you searched for the one you knew he wanted, he purchased it himself. You also thought about taking him out on a date yourself, but you knew he wouldn’t let you pay, and you honestly thought the idea was pretty lame and basic. He did that for you every single week, it wasn't that special. 

An idea popped into your head.

Maybe you could sneak into his computer and lurk around his amazon wish list or something. You knew every inch of his house and belongings, so you could easily know what he owned or not.

You grabbed his computer and sat on the bed with an excited sigh. 

You put the password and quickly opened google, typing amazon. Thankfully, the page immediately opened in his logged account, so you clicked on the wishlist button and carefully started looking for future gifts. 

A Fender Stratocaster electric guitar… no, that’s way too expensive. You were not even half as wealthy as he was, and besides, he had two guitars already. He didn’t need a third one. 

A painting brush set… it could be. Hyunjin really needed new brushes, so you wrote them down as possible options for gifts. 

A vinyl record from the band he had recently started listening to… you got that for him for his birthday when you weren’t together yet, it wasn’t that special either. You had to be original. 

Shibari ropes… wait.

Hold up.

Shibari ropes?

In his wishlist?

Was this something he was willing to try? 

You bit your lip at the thought of trying that with Hyunjin. You couldn’t stop thinking about him tying you up and letting him use you the way he wanted. You wouldn’t have ever thought that your boyfriend was into that kinky shit, but here you are. 

You sent the link of the shibari ropes he had put on favorites via airdrop and quickly closed the window, deleting the history search just in case he saw it and discovered your gift. 

The ropes were a tiny bit expensive, but you knew they were totally gonna be worth it. 

The week of the anniversary rolled faster than you thought and you were getting anxious by the minute. You started having second thoughts. What if he thought you were a fucking weirdo for buying the ropes, or even worse, what if he realised you went into his wishlist and broke up with you because he thought you were-

Okay, relax, you thought to yourself.

After the date he had taken you on, he took you back home and sat you on the bed, ready to give you the gift he had gotten for you.

“I really hope you like this” he said and grabbed a box from the closet that was hidden by his clothes. 

You bit your lip and opened it, taking the box that was inside. 

Once you opened the box, you gasped when you saw the two necklaces, one with your initial, and the other one with Hyunjin’s. 

“I wanted to have your initial around my neck, and my initial around your neck” he smiled. “I hope you don’t think it’s weird, I just thought it-” he started rambling but you cut him short by kissing him deeply.

His breath hitched in surprise, but he was quick to grab your waist and pull your body closer to his.

You pulled away and then, pressed a peck to his lips. “I love it, Hyune” you giggled. “And I love you”

It was the first time saying those three words to him.

His face broke out into the most heart crushing and wonderful smile you have ever seen. “God, I love you” he said and kissed you, making you fall back on the bed with a giggle, tangled in his arms.

When you felt the kiss getting a little way too hot, you pulled away, remembering he gift you had bought.

“I- I uh… I have a gift for you as well” you said and bit your lip, chewing on it.

Hyunjin let out a smirk. “Okay…” he giggled.

You quickly sat up on the bed and walked towards your bags. You grabbed a box and sighed.

This is it.

You handed it to him, and he didn’t miss the look on your face, noticing the way you were nervous about it. 

“It’s okay if you find it… um… weird, and shit” you mumbled as he carefully took the lid of the box out. 

His eyes visibly widened when he saw the bright red ropes laying on the inside of the box. 

“You- Y/N… how…?” he started stammering like a child and you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“I- okay, I didn’t know what to get you so I went into your wishlist on amazon and I found that you had these there in your favorites. And I- well, I thought you were into it- them” you said, nervously.

Hyunjin took them out and his fingers caressed the rope. “You want me to tie you up with these?” he asked, and you noticed the huskiness in his voice.

He wanted this.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Because you discovered I had a thing for it… or because you want me to?” he asked, trying to check if he had full consent from you on this one, or you were just trying to please him. 

You smiled, realising the implying in his words. “Both things, Hyune. Because you have a thing for it, and well, I want to try it as well, you know?” you said, licking your lips. 

“Fuck, get naked. Right the fuck now” he said, standing up from the bed and almost ripping his shirt off from the eagerness he felt. 

Your eyes widened and then you saw the way he was dead serious about it.

You stood up shakily on your legs and slowly took off your dress, letting it slide over your body and pool on your feet. 

You stood in your underwear and his eyebrows arched, a sign that he wanted those two remaining garments off as well. You hooked your pointer finger on the side of your panties and slid them down, kicking them further away and then your hands went behind your back, unclipping your bra and throwing it away. 

Hyunjin grabbed the ropes and held two fingers up, curling them in a come here movement. 

You walked towards him and let him wrap you up in the red ropes, tying them all over your body, till you could no longer move by yourself.

He grabbed you and deposited you on the bed.

His cock got impossibly hard at the state he had you in, all tied up and helpless. Hyunjin had you exactly how he wanted. You squirmed in your place, with a whine, trying to get him to do something.

“Hyunjin…” you whispered, your eyes getting teary already.

He chuckled and placed two hands next to your head. “I haven’t done anything yet, baby, and you’re getting pouty on me already…”

His hands went to his belt, unbuckling it and throwing his jeans away, standing only in a pair of boxers that sit too tight on his hips due to his raging hard on. 

His fingers swept over your core, teeth digging into his lips when he found you wet and ready for him.  

“No… no fingers, I just want your cock, Hyune” you moaned.

And how could he resist, really? When you were begging like that for him, so sweetly. 

He manhandled you so you were on your knees, your face resting on the pillow and your arms were tied behind your back. 

“Do you remember our safe word, jagi?” he asked you.

You nodded into the pillow and he slapped your ass swiftly, making you jolt and yelp.

“Words” he said sternly.

“I do… I do…” you whined.

Hyunjin smirked. “Great” he stated.  

Hyunjin took off his boxers, his erection slapping wetly on his stomach. He grabbed his length, pumping it with his hand a couple of times and then guiding it through your pussy lips. 

You moaned into the pillow once you felt him buried to the hilt, and then his hips started moving torturously slow. 

He heard you whine and start babbling nonsense against the pillow, making him chuckle. “What is it, baby?” he said, continuing his slow pace. “I can’t hear you”

You pushed your cheek into the sheets and let out a cry. “Please go faster, Hyune” you pleaded, tears now rolling down your cheeks. 

He grabbed you by the ropes that were tying your hands, lifting you up to a kneeling position, making your back hit his chest.

“You know how hard it makes me to have you all tied up and helpless while you beg for me to fuck you?” he asked you, lust dripping in his tone. 

You let out a moan when you felt him push his cock deep and fast inside of you, hitting over and over the sweet spot inside of you. 

He could listen to the headboard hitting against the wall with loud thuds, knowing the members were gonna be fucking angry at him for making so much noise, but he really couldn’t give to shits about it. 

Hyunjin continued thrusting his hips and you moaned brokenly every time he hit the delicious spot. His teeth bit at your neck, leaving a few hickeys to adorn your skin. 

“I love you, baby” he whispered. “Fuck, you look so good, such a fucking work of art” he mumbled over your skin, going dumb himself over how well you were taking him. You were so wet and tight, added to the fact that you were making a wet dream of his come true by letting him tie you up, that it made him almost lose control. “Fuck, are you close, honey?”

You nodded, unable to form any coherent words or even thoughts. His hand went over your front, finding your clit and rubbing it. 

You tightened even more around him and he felt your orgasm coat his dick. Once he felt you relax under his hold, meaning you were already spent, he took his cock out from your quivering hold and laid you on the bed, angling your ass up.

He grabbed his cock and started jerking himself off, applying pressure to his base and his thumb rubbing over his tip. 

The orgasm washed over him, making his legs tremble from the intensity of it. His come came out in spurts over your ass cheeks and he let out a broken moan when he finished, his eyes lingering on the artwork he had made over your ass, feeling himself proud and smug at the sight in front of him. 

He let out a tired sigh and grabbed the ends of the ropes, prying them off of your body. 

Hyunjin felt his heart ache when he saw the red lines on your body, from the tightness of them.

“Shit, my love, I’m so sorry” he said, his hand coming to soothe off the redness. 

You basked in his touch and smiled. “It’s okay, I liked it” you said, with a shy giggle.

“Oh I’m fucking sure we both did” Hyunjin said with a chuckle. “Fuck baby, that was so freaking hot” 

You hid your face on the pillow, feeling your cheeks grow hot. 

Hyunjin laughed at your shyness and pet your hair. “I love you” he confessed once again.

“I love you” you replied back and eyes his handsome face. “Shibari, Hyunjin? Really?”

“Stop!” he squealed, making you chuckle. 

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght // @jisunglyricist

i apologize if i can't tag u :(

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt2) | Leah Williamson

Leah, among other things, can be a bit of a distraction for your game… but just a bit. warnings: none, just fluff and slow burn note: a short one for today,, thanks for all the love in the pt1 :( pt1 - pt3 my masterlist

It had been three days since Leah had received the Instagram notification. Every morning, she took a moment to think about whether it was a good idea to text you or not. So far, you had liked her latest post, and Leah was hoping to return the gesture, but unfortunately for her you hadn't posted anything new since your picture holding the Roland Garros trophy. Not even a story she could react to. Nothing. 

“So... how's it going?” her mother asked that afternoon. Leah had gone to visit her, finding herself with more free time now that the season had ended, not much to do aside from the occasional interview and events, nothing too physically demanding for her.

“Well, I have an interview with the BBC in a couple of days, so that's keeping me busy” Leah said, pacing around the dining room, her eyes wandering over the photographs on one of her mother’s many shelves.

“I'm not talking about work. I'm talking about your girl!” Amanda shouted from the kitchen.

"Stop calling her that. I still can't believe you embarrassed me in front of her” Leah retorted. Just then, something over the fireplace caught her attention. 

Right in the center, where her picture holding up the Euro usually was, now stood a small transparent box. Inside was your autographed tennis ball. Leah picked up the box and couldn't help but smile at the sight of your signature, along with a smiley face.

“Hey, leave that there” her mother scolded as she entered the dining room with the two plates of food for dinner. 

“This should be mine, I'm her fan,” Leah said, fiddling with the box in her hand.

“Did you help Y/N win her trophy?” her mother retorted.

“Well, I got you there in the first place” Leah defended herself, placing the box back in its spot.

"Too bad that gift was given to me. If you want a ball, ask her for it." Amanda teased.

“You're my mother. You should be nicer to me.” Leah countered, taking a seat. 

"Yes, I am your mother, but I didn't raise a coward," Amanda said with a teasing smile. “Now eat”

Leah bit her lip nervously as she stared at her phone screen. The chat with you was open, and a picture of the autographed ball at her mother’s house was ready to be sent.

God, why was she so nervous? She had captained the England women's team to their first major title in history, yet now she was afraid to send a simple message.

“Screw it,” she muttered, hitting send.

“My mom won't let me touch the ball you gave her.”

Leah panicked as soon as the text was sent and quickly locked her phone. She glanced at her watch, it was past eleven o’clock at night, and she didn’t even know where in the world you were right now. The best thing to do was to go to bed and try not to think about the message. Maybe, if she was lucky, you would read it and respond in the morning. 

Within half an hour Leah was in bed, with her ipad in her lap, checking emails. Suddenly, her phone vibrated.

She had tossed it onto the bed ten minutes ago, and now it was lost somewhere among the sheets and the pile of pillows she had. She rummaged around looking for the phone, but couldn't find it, that was until her foot got tangled in the sheets, causing her to tumble to the floor. That's when she saw her phone, on the edge of the bed, covered by a pillow.

Without bothering to get up from the floor, she grabbed the phone and smiled when she saw the notification: a message from you.

“Aww, I seriously thought she would give it to you.”

Would it be too intense if she responded immediately? 

Leah decided to go for it. “My mother is not that kind of mother,” she typed and sent the message, then relaxed as she saw you had immediately read it. The bubble with three dots appeared instantly, confirming you wanted to keep the conversation going.

"Ah, my mother is similar. I understand," you replied.

Leah was taken by surprise when the next message popped up.

“What are you doing at this hour?”

She realized she was still sprawled on the floor of her room. She got up, climbed back into bed, and opened the first streaming app she saw on her ipad, choosing an old movie she had been trying to watch for days. She took a picture, making sure to show only the ipad and part of the bed, then sent it to you.

“Watching something.”

Leah shook her head,feeling like a teenager sending things like that. It reminded her of what she used to do years ago. But she wanted to sound interesting to you. What would you think of her if you knew she was actually just checking emails and watching old football matches, trying to figure out if she could play like she used to?

"What about you? I don't even know what time zone you're in."

“I’m in Italy, just an hour difference :)”

“Italy?”

"Resting. Back to my workouts tomorrow."

"Oh, right. What’s next for you now? Berlin?"

This time Leah was surprised to see that your response was not a text, but a voice message. She hesitated before playing it, then hit the button and heard your voice.

“Wow look at you, you really are a fan,” you said in a teasing tone. Leah blushed immediately. She couldn't send you a voice message because she was sure she would get too nervous. Leah Williamson, the same woman who had spoken at the UN months ago, now felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

She took a deep breath and replied:

“Of course I am. I’ve watched almost all your matches since Wimbledon last year. I told you I was your fan when I met you. My mother made sure to emphasize that too.”

“I just thought it was to flatter me if I'm being honest... Not that I'm that self-centered, but it wouldn't be the first time it's happened.”

Leah could tell you were walking during the last voice message; there was background noise. You obviously weren't in a room.

“Where are you at this hour?”

The next thing Leah received was a photo of a couple of tennis courts. From the angle and the small table with a glass of water, she deduced that you were sitting a few feet away from the courts.

“I thought you were training from tomorrow?”

"On grass. The grass court season starts soon. Now I was just playing with my racket.” You explained in the message. Leah didn't have a chance to respond before receiving another voice message from you. "But it's getting late now, and I need to rest up for tomorrow's training session. Say hi to your mom for me please." 

"Of course, have a good rest," Leah replied, understanding the importance of proper rest for training sessions, especially during the season.

Days had flown by since that chat, and Leah was getting antsy. She was really hoping you'd reach out first this time, just to ease her mind that she wasn't bothering you. But as she sat at Alex's place,  enjoying a glass of wine over dinner before going out, she couldn't help but feel a bit silly constantly checking her phone for a message that never came.

As far as Leah knew you had already arrived in Berlin for the upcoming Open, not because you told her, but because she'd seen some snapshots of you during training sessions thanks to some tennis websites she followed.

Leah didn't know it, but your mind was fully consumed by the upcoming tournament with Wimbledon just around the corner. It was the topic of discussion throughout your entire day: grass, Berlin, Wimbledon, Leah no, wait, focus on that WTA ranking.

"Ready?" Lucas, your coach, asked, checking his watch. It was the last day before the tournament started.

"Huh?" You looked up, putting your phone down.

Lucas gave you a concerned look. "You okay? You've seemed kinda spaced out for a few days now."

You shook your head, trying to brush it off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

"Is something up? You look kinda off," Lucas took a seat next to you, his concern evident in his expression. “You're not hiding some injury from me?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine, just tired” you lied, standing up and glancing at your phone once more. Lucas caught your glance.

"Don't tell me there's a girl," he said, rubbing his temples.

"What?! No! Of course not!"

"God, I knew it. It's that Italian girl, isn't it? I saw you chatting with her at the hotel."

"That was a waitress, Lucas. I'm serious, there's no one," you said, grabbing your bag from the floor. "I've got my priorities straight."

"Good. What you have to worry about now is Berlin. Remember, Wimbledon's around the corner" said Lucas, standing up and grabbing his bag. "If you want, after that tournament, you can sleep with whoever you want, Italian or not. But for now, you must keep your eyes on the grass. Okay?"

"Okay"

The next morning, as you sat down for breakfast, Leah's face caught your eye while scrolling through your Instagram feed. She had posted some photos, seemingly from a night out. 

It struck you how you hadn't come across Leah until the Roland Garros final; she seemed like an incredible person. You had even done a quick Google search when you first started following her on Instagram, impressed by her contributions to her sport back home.

It wasn't your fault that your family never showed much interest in football, so it wasn't surprising that you couldn't recognize any of the people beside Leah in those pictures. In the final photo, Leah was wearing a top that exposed her abdomen, wow, with a hand from someone you didn't recognize resting on her waist.

“Hmm?” You quickly tapped on the tag on the other woman's body. Her Instagram profile revealed that she was a football player too. Leah was in many of her photos, often seen next to her or hugging her. 

“Hey, Y/N” Lucas intervened, taking the phone from your hand and turning off the screen. “I've been trying to get your attention for minutes, your match starts in an hour.”

You nodded your head. Lucas didn't seem to notice the tension in your jaw, you tended to be serious before matches, so it wasn't unusual.

As you warmed up on the court, your mind couldn't shake the thoughts about Leah.

"Who was that other woman?"

"It doesn't matter. Leah is just a fan, maybe a friend, not someone you're going to marry."

"Exactly. Whether she has a partner or not shouldn't affect anything."

"But I couldn't help but find her cute."

"She's undeniably beautiful."

"Focus on Wimbledon."

Despite the game starting, your mind continued its internal debate.

Your opponent secured the first game at 40-0. Now it was your turn to serve. Just as you tossed the ball into the air, a nagging thought intruded again.

“Does she have a girlfriend?”

The ball hit the net. An irritated sigh escaped your mouth, knowing you had to make this serve count, aiming to avoid a double fault.

Shaking off the distracting thought, you prepared for another attempt. Gazing ahead, you focused on your opponent's movements, determined to regain control of the match.

"Her mother played matchmaker when we met," you mumbled to yourself, the distraction causing you to miss the hit once more. This time, it sailed over the net but landed wide, giving your opponent an unexpected point.

Even your opponent seemed surprised by the unforced error you just made, giving her a point without any effort on her part.

"I need to find out who she is," you muttered under your breath, feeling the pressure with each lost point.

Your serve had enough power behind it this time, but your return lacked precision, sending the ball flying into the stands. As the ball sailed out, your opponent glanced at you in disbelief, clearly surprised by the unforced error you had just made.

"Wälti, that was her name," you murmured to yourself, the name lingering in your mind like a persistent echo. 

With the score now at 40-15, your opponent was on the verge of breaking your serve.

You needed to get rid of the doubt, but you couldn't leave the game, you weren't that crazy. But you could do something else, win the game in record time. Focus on winning to satisfy your curiosity and anxiety. You adjusted the gold chain that hung around your neck and took a deep breath. You had to hurry.

The match ended 0-2, with you taking the sets at 2-6 and 1-6. Your best result on grass.

"Where'd that come from?" Lucas asked once you were alone. "Since when is your backhand so killer on grass?" he wondered. "I've never seen you pull off moves like that on grass."

"Just got inspired," you said, tossing your visor aside and slumping into the chair. "Can I have my phone now?" Lucas hadn't given it back to you yet, not as a punishment, but because you'd asked him to keep it. 

Lucas handed it over, eyeing you. "You're keeping something from me," he noted, scratching his beard. "But if it's what's making you play like a champ, I'm all for it," he said, grinning.

You brushed off your coach's voice, fingers darting to your Instagram. With a few taps, you found Leah's chat, eager to shoot her a message.

"Heyyy! How was your night?" you typed, your leg bouncing with impatience. Though you needed to hit the shower, the excitement of hearing from Leah consumed you.

"Hope you're not feeling too rough today; starting the week hungover would be nasty," you added, fingers hovering over the screen in anticipation. But as the moments passed, there was still no response from Leah, leaving you hanging in suspense.

A cold shower seemed like the perfect remedy to clear your mind, and thankfully, it did the trick. Lucas egging you on for extra drills, especially to fine-tune your backhand, also helped to distract you.

By dinner, any hope of hearing back from Leah had evaporated. You were so disinterested that you didn't even bother bringing your phone along. It wasn't until nearly ten, when you reached for your phone to set the alarm, that you noticed Leah's message—a voice message.

"Hey, fancy hearing from you!" Leah's voice chimed in, carrying that distinctive lilt that hinted at a potential afternoon spent dozing off. You could practically imagine her, wrapped up in blankets, nursing a post-party hangover. "Yeah, went out with some friends. We were celebrating the end of my mate's long-distance thing. Was fun, until they started getting all soppy, reminding me I'm the last single one in the group."

A groan slipped out before she continued, "I may have had a bit too much to drink," she confessed with a sheepish chuckle.

Those messages had been sent around 4 pm, while you were deep into your training session.

The rest of the voice messages were sent after 7 pm.

"What the heck was up with your game today?!" came the first, followed by a chuckle "Just watched the highlights of your match. Seriously, what did that poor player do to deserve such a thrashing from you? She ain't an ex, is she?"

Then, a last voice message added, "Sorry if that sounded a bit too nosy. Just curious, you know?"

You chuckled, enjoying the sound of Leah's accent. It had this magical way of making you grin like an idiot, even when you were just staring at your phone screen.

But now, what really mattered was Leah's relationship status, she was single, confirmed without even having to pry. Knowing she was single now seemed like a game-changer. Suddenly, that whole thing with Wälti didn't matter anymore, Leah's path was crystal clear. Not that you were planning to make any moves to win her over; that was definitely not on your agenda, at least not for now.

“Remember, Wimbledon”

Oh… the other thing that hit you: Leah truly proved herself to be your fan. It blew your mind that someone recovering from a hangover would bother to watch highlights of your match just to chat about it later. She was the first person to do that, apart from your coach or family.

"Hey, I'm free tomorrow, at least from the matches. What do you think if I call you tomorrow?" you typed, feeling a rush of anticipation mingled with nerves as you crawled into bed.

Before closing your eyes, you couldn't resist checking your phone one last time. And there it was, Leah's response: "Sure, call me anytime tomorrow. I'll be waiting for you."

With a grin stretching across your face, you drifted into the most peaceful sleep you've had in ages, feeling a sense of warmth and excitement settling deep within you.

[mrsfancyferrari]

My Saviour

Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay. PT 4 - Finale

Song: Pyramids - Frank Ocean

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Author’s note: CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. I hope you got your popcorn ready for this finale! I made this the best ending I ever could. I've loved writing this series and hoped you loved it too. Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Taglist: @ahhhhhm, @daniskywalkersolo, @friendshipis-magic, @tellybearryyyy, @lanadelray1989, @owl778, @almostuniversallyface, @maluzets55, @dying-inside-but-its-classy, @noooway555, @unknownmystery22, @forensicheart, @a-beaverhausen, @moonstruck-poet, @mendes-bae, @czennieszn, @widow-cevans.

Word count: 27.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The news hit you like a rogue wave, leaving you gasping for air. "My mom and sister are coming over in two days," Max had said, his voice casual as he stirred the pasta sauce.

He hadn’t looked at you, too focused on the simmering pot, and for a moment, the kitchen seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. Two days.

That wasn’t enough time, not nearly enough time. You stared at the chipped tile of the kitchen floor, the image of Max’s father’s clenched fist flashing behind your eyelids. The last time you saw it, he had been so angry, his face contorted with a rage you still didn't quite comprehend.

Now his mother and sister were coming to this house. The house you’d built together, brick by brick, or rather, box by unpacked box. The house you had slowly and tentatively been turning into a home. The thought of them seeing you, of them judging you, sent a shiver of dread down your spine.

You didn't answer Max, and he finally turned from the stove, a questioning look on his face. "Hey," he said, gently, reaching out to touch your arm.

His touch, usually a source of comfort, felt like a brand, reminding you of how utterly vulnerable you’d felt that day, and how hard he’d fought to protect you. “You okay?”

You managed a weak smile. "Yeah, just...two days. It's fast."

He moved closer, his brow furrowed with concern. "Is it too fast? I can push it back if you want."

You shook your head, the lie forming on your lips. You couldn't ask him to push it back. It would be rude. It would be cowardly.

“No, no, it’s okay. I just want everything to be perfect.” You hated how your voice trembled almost imperceptibly.

“Perfect?” He lifted a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. “It doesn’t need to be perfect. They’re just my mom and sister. They’re… I mean, they’re good people. You’ll like them.”

You tried to believe him, tried to summon up some of the excitement he clearly felt, but the knot of anxiety in your stomach refused to loosen.

“What if they don’t like me? What if…what if they’re like your dad?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, raw and laced with the fear that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

Max’s face darkened. His hand dropped away, and he took a step back, his eyes clouding. "They're not like my dad," he said, his voice low and firm. "They're not even remotely like him. You know that.”

But you didn't know. All you knew was the lingering memory of his father's face, the vitriol in his voice, the power in his fist. You felt so ashamed of yourself.

You didn’t want to bring this baggage to his family, and you had just done that. "I just...I'm still a little shaken up about what happened with him," you confessed in a small voice.

He reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Look at me," he said, his gaze direct and unwavering. "My mom is… she's kind. She's funny, she's warm. And my sister, Victoria, she's... she's a bit of a free spirit. You'll get along with her, I promise. And neither of them will ever be like my father."

He squeezed your hand, his grip strong and reassuring. “I won’t let them be, not ever.”

You wanted to believe him, to let his words wash over you and erase the fear. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability, the knowledge that you’d seen a side of Max's family, a dark and ugly side, that you couldn't unsee.

“What about him?” you asked, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Will he be here?”

Max’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing dangerously for a moment. “He is never welcome in our house, ever. My mom and sister despise him, you don’t have to worry about that.” He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“I know you’re scared. But you don’t have to be. They’re coming here to meet you. They’re excited to meet the person I’m dating, the person I…care about very much.”

You clung to him, burying your face in his shirt, inhaling the scent of laundry detergent and his own unique, comforting smell. "It's just...I don't want to mess things up for you," you mumbled, your voice muffled against his chest. "I don't want them to think I'm not...good enough."

He pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up so he could look you in the eye. "You're more than good enough. You're amazing. And anyone who doesn't see that isn't worth your time. Including my family. But trust me, they will.”

He smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile. “And if they don't? Then I'll deal with it. Okay?”

You nodded, a small, hesitant nod, but it was a start. He had the power to ground you, to calm the storm within you. You wished you had that power yourself.

"Okay," you said, your voice a little steadier now. "Okay, I can try."

He kissed you then, a soft, lingering kiss that tasted of hope and reassurance. "That's all I ask," he murmured against your lips. "Just try."

The next two days were a flurry of activity. You cleaned the house until it shone, you planned a menu that you thought would please his family, and you even ventured into the field closeby to pick some wildflowers to put in a vase. Max helped, of course, but mostly he seemed focused on keeping you calm, his eyes constantly searching yours for any sign of distress. The morning they were due to arrive, you felt your stomach drop into your boots. You stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing your outfit, second-guessing every decision you’d made.

You changed your top three times before Max came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, kissing the back of your neck. “They’re going to love you.”

You turned in his arms, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one about to be interrogated.”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “They’re not going to interrogate you. They’re just going to try and steal you from me.”

You smiled, finally feeling a small flicker of genuine excitement. “Don’t let them,” you teased, a bit of your old confidence returning. "You're the one who said I'm your favorite person."

"Definitely my favorite person," he agreed, giving you a quick kiss on the lips.

The doorbell rang, shattering the comfortable bubble of the moment. You took a deep breath, trying to settle the butterflies in your stomach.

“Showtime,” you said, a mix of excitement and trepidation in your voice. Max squeezed your hand, giving you a reassuring smile. “We’ve got this.”

He opened the door to reveal Sophie, her warm smile radiating familiarity, and Victoria, who had inherited her brother's playful charm. Both women stepped inside, their eyes wide, taking in the space you’d so carefully curated.

“It’s beautiful!” Sophie exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “You’ve done an incredible job.”

Victoria echoed her mother's sentiments, adding, “It’s just as Max described, only even better in person.”

She looked at you, her expression softening. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you. Max has been…rather vocal about how wonderful you are.”

You laughed, the tension easing a little at their warmth. “It’s wonderful to meet you both too. Come in, come in. Let me show you around.”

The next hour passed by in a flurry of introductions, compliments and laughter. You guided them through the house, pointing out the features you were most proud of – the carefully chosen artwork, the cozy reading nook, the spacious guest room you’d set up.

At one point, while you were showing Victoria the herb garden on the back patio, Sophie cornered Max, her voice a low murmur.

You watched, a fond smile playing on your lips as you tried not to eavesdrop, though you did catch the tail end of her words in Dutch. “… so happy for you, Max. She’s wonderful.”

Lunch was a relaxed affair, you’d prepared a simple pasta dish, one you’d perfected over time. The conversation flowed easily, shifting between Formula 1, your respective families, and shared travel experiences.

Victoria, who was close to your age, was particularly interested in your life as a driver, asking pointed questions about the pressure, the challenges, and of course, the exhilaration.

You found yourself opening up, sharing anecdotes about grueling training sessions and the unwavering support you'd received from your team, and, of course, Max.

You even recounted a particularly comical pit stop mishap, earning a burst of laughter from everyone at the table.

“She handles herself so well under pressure,” Max said, a note of pride in his voice, as he looked at you across the table. “It’s one of the many things I admire about her.”

Sophie beamed, her eyes sparkling with warmth. “We do, too, Max. She’s incredibly impressive.”

Later, after lunch, as the afternoon light began to mellow, you found yourself alone with Sophie in the living room. Victoria and Max had retreated to the back patio, their laughter drifting in through the open windows.

Sophie turned to you, her expression serious, but kind. “You’ve made our Max very happy,” she said simply. “It’s a good thing. He deserves to be happy.”

You felt a lump form in your throat. “He’s made me incredibly happy too, Sophie. More than I ever thought possible.”

She nodded then turned serious, bowing her head low. "I heard what their father had done to you. I'm extremely ashamed of his actions," she said, her voice now soft.

A shiver ran down your spine, as if the chill of the day you had tried so hard to forget had returned. You hadn’t wanted to burden Max’s family with the memory, especially today.

You had hoped, perhaps naively, that it wouldn’t come up. You shifted uncomfortably.

“Sophie, it’s okay, really,” you responded, trying to keep your voice even. “It was just… a moment. It’s in the past.”

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with concern. “No, it isn’t okay. It’s never okay to lay hands on another person, especially not in anger. What Jos did was inexcusable.” Her voice held a steel edge, a stark contrast to her usual warmth.

You looked down at your lap, tracing the pattern of the rug with your finger. The memory surged back with a visceral clarity. The heated argument, Jos’s face contorted in fury, the sudden, sharp pain in your ribs as his fist connected.

The way your breath had been knocked out of you. The memory was still vivid.

“He was mad,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was trying to find Max but I found him instead. I tried to leave him but he just had to say something bad to me, we argued and then he...”

“He hit you,” Sophie finished for you, her gaze unwavering. “He heard something he didn't want to hear. You are brave for speaking your mind to him." Her voice was almost a sigh as she admitted this.

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t blame her for being angry, and you certainly couldn’t justify Jos’s actions. You knew, deep down, that you would never fully forget the moment, that it would always be a shadow lurking in the corners of your mind. Jos would never admit he was wrong either, and that was what hurt the most.

“Max knows?” Sophie asked, her voice gentle.

You nodded. “Yes, he stopped Jos. He was really… upset,” you said, choosing your words carefully. "And still is" you added under your breath.

Sophie reached out and took your hand, her touch surprisingly strong. “He’s angry for you. He loves you, you know that?”

“I do,” you replied, a genuine smile finally reaching your lips. “And I love him.”

She squeezed your hand. “Good. Because he needs you. And you deserve to be treated with respect, always. No one has the right to hurt you, ever.”

Your eyes welled up, not from sadness, but from an overwhelming sense of gratitude. You had never expected to find such an ally in Max’s mother, and her unwavering support meant more than you could ever say.

“Dank je wel, Sophie. Dat betekent veel voor mij.,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. Thank you, Sophie. That means a lot to me.

Before she could even react from your sudden Dutch, the back door slid open, and Max walked in, a perplexed look on his face. “Everything okay in here? You both look a bit serious?”

Sophie released your hand and smiled at her son. “Everything is perfect, darling. Just making sure that she knows how lucky you are.” She winked.

Max looked at you, his brow furrowed with concern. “Is everything alright?”

You smiled reassuringly. “Everything’s fine. We were just… talking.”

He still looked unsure, but he didn’t press the issue. He knew when to back off, when you needed space. He stood beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You leaned into the embrace, feeling his warmth seep into your soul. He placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

"Max, you didn't tell me that Y/N speaks Dutch?" Sophie said, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Max grinned proudly, which made your heart do a funny little flip. “I did mention it a while back, Mom, when we first started dating. You must have forgotten. She’s been practicing a bit.”

You hadn’t been practicing a bit. You’d been learning the language voraciously for months, a secret project born out of your love for Max and his heritage.

It was the same with Sophie, the occasional Dutch idioms she would use, her native language was like a piece of her. And you wanted that connection, a shared language with them both.

"It's still a work in progress, though," you admitted, a little bashfully. "But I’m trying."

"Well, I'm impressed," Sophie said, clapping her hands together. "I knew there was a reason I liked you so much. You're full of wonderful surprises. You should speak Dutch more often, it sounds charming on you.”

Max kissed your temple again. “I agree. It suits you.”

Later that evening, after Sophie and Victoria had left, you and Max were curled up on the sofa, the house quiet and calm. “What did you and my mother talk about?” he asked, his voice low.

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to be honest. “She asked about… your father.”

Max stiffened beside you. “And?”

“She was angry. She said what he did was inexcusable,” you told him.

He was silent for a moment, his jaw clenched. “He doesn’t understand,” he said finally. “He never will.”

You turned to face him, your hand cupping his cheek. “It’s okay, Max. I understand.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with so much love and tenderness that your heart ached. “I wish he hadn’t hurt you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“It doesn't matter, it was a long time ago, I’m fine," you assured him.

“It does matter. You deserve better. I deserve better. I will never allow anyone to treat you that way again,” he said, his voice fierce. You knew he meant it.

You leaned in and kissed him, pouring all your love and gratitude into the embrace, making up for the words you couldn't find. His arms tightened around you, his lips moving against yours with desperate hunger.

You had each other. And that, you realised, was all that truly mattered.

The hum of Max's private jet was a low, comforting thrum against the anticipation buzzing through you. In a few days, the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix would be upon you, the last race of the season, and the pressure was palpable, even at 30,000 feet.

You were nestled between Max, who was engrossed in reviewing some documents on his tablet, and Charles, who was idly scrolling through his phone, a small smile playing on his lips. Lando, of course, was the catalyst of the chaos, sprawled out on the opposite couch, a mischievous glint in his eye.

A staff member, a young woman named Maya, approached you all and asked if she could take a quick picture for social media. You always needed to keep the public engaged, and a photo of the three drivers plus you, the public's new and exciting addition, was definitely good content.

Max briefly looked up, gave a small nod, and then returned to his screen. Charles straightened up, and Lando struck a dramatic pose, leaning back into the cushions and throwing up a peace sign with a goofy grin. You felt a little awkward, but you did your best to smile naturally as Maya snapped a few shots.

"Okay, perfect!" she chirped, showing you the picture on her phone. You all looked pretty relaxed, albeit slightly posed. "Thanks everyone! Enjoy the rest of the flight."

As soon as Maya was out of earshot, Lando, of course, had to open his mouth. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and gave you a very knowing look. “So,” he drawled, his voice full of amusement, “How’s the couple doing?”

Your cheeks warmed immediately. Max finally looked up, a slight frown creasing his brow as he glanced from Lando to you, his hand instinctively reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “What are you on about, Lando?” he said, his tone a low rumble.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Lando said, his eyes widening innocently, “Just observing the… lovebirds. You know, the picture just screamed ‘power couple’ to me. You guys are practically glowing.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Charles chuckled, burying his face in his hands, but you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. You shot a glare at Lando, who only grinned even wider, and then looked over at Max who was watching you closely, a gentle smile softening the sharp lines of his face.

“We’re doing fine, thank you,” you said, trying to keep your voice even, although you felt like your heart was doing a little tap dance. Dating Max was still new, a thrilling, somewhat surreal experience.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Max echoed, his hand now resting on your knee. The simple touch sent a shiver down your spine. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious, you know,” Lando said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's been all the gossip, hasn't it? Max Verstappen finally settling down. The world is in shock."

He pretended to faint dramatically against the seat cushions, earning a louder laugh from Charles.

“Oh, come on, Lando,” Charles said, shaking his head. “You’re just jealous because you’re still playing the field.”

“Hey!” Lando exclaimed, feigning offense. “I’m… strategically assessing the options!”

"Strategic, huh?" you said, finally finding your voice amidst the gentle teasing. "Or is it just that you can't commit?"

He gasped dramatically. "How dare you! I'd have you know I'm just waiting for the perfect woman..." He paused, looking at me with a theatrical expression. "...or man. Whatever."

You all burst into laughter, the tension from the earlier conversation dissipating. Even Max cracked a small smile, shaking his head at Lando's antics.

“So, onto more important things,” Charles said, clapping his hands together. “Anyone want to discuss sector times?”

You four spent the next hour dissecting the data from the last practice runs, the atmosphere shifting from playful banter to serious strategy. Even Lando fell silent, his usual boisterous energy replaced with a focused intensity as they discussed the intricacies of the track.

As the flight wore on, the conversation drifted again. You talked about moving in together, the places you had visited over the short holiday, and the pressures of life under the spotlight.

You found yourself more and more comfortable with Max, your connection growing stronger with every shared laugh and gentle touch.

Later, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the cabin, Lando and Charles were sleeping peacefully with the exception of occasional snores from Lando.

You felt Max’s hand gently tracing patterns on your arm. It was a simple gesture, a touch that sent a jolt of warmth through you, a silent acknowledgment of the secret bond you shared.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, the rumble of it vibrating through your body.

“Yeah,” you murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder, the scent of his cologne filling your senses. “Just thinking about… everything.”

He moved his head slightly, his cheek brushing against your hair. “Everything?” he repeated, his hand continuing its soothing pattern on your skin.

You nodded into his shoulder. “Everything. This race. The pressure. Us.” The confession was out, a soft exhale, the truth you had been holding onto now released into the space between you.

He went still for a moment, his hand stopping its gentle tracing. Then, he turned his head to look at you, his gaze soft, reassuring. “Us?” he echoed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “What about us?”

You lifted your head, meeting his eyes, the vulnerability in your chest exposed. "It's all so… precarious, isn't it? One wrong move, one slip up, and everything could come crashing down. The media, the scrutiny, our careers… I just… I don't want to lose us, Max."

His expression softened even more, his thumb now tracing your cheekbone. "Lose us?" he repeated, the words a soft question. “That’s the furthest thing from my mind.”

He paused, then added, his voice even quieter, “You think I would intentionally do anything to lose you?”

You shook your head. "No, but…" you trailed off, unsure how to articulate the fear that gnawed at your insides. "The pressure can get to anyone. And we both know how unpredictable this world can be.”

He took your hand in his, his fingers intertwining with yours. "I'm not anyone," he said firmly, his voice laced with a confidence that seemed to seep into you. "And you're not just anyone either. You're the most incredible, amazing woman I know, and you think that because of the craziness of this world I would let anything ever happen to us?”

He paused and then looked directly into your eyes, the honesty in his gaze almost overwhelming, “I won’t let anything happen to us. I promise you that.”

You stared right back at him for a moment, feeling your heart bloom – it always did every time you were with him, every time he looked at you with such raw affection. “You say the right things, you know that?” A smile now bloomed on your lips.

He leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “I only mean the right things when it comes to you.”

You could feel your cheeks flush, your breath catching in your throat. “You’re going to make me cry.”

He chuckled, the sound a warm rumble that vibrated against your ear. “I’m not going to make you cry. I’m just stating the truth. You worry too much,” he squeezed your hand slightly, “I know that, and I hate that because you never need to with me.”

Your fingers tightened around his. “It’s hard not to when everything is so… big. This race… this season… all of it.”

“I know,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. “But try to focus on me. Focus on us. Just for a little while. Let all the other big things be big later.”

A small smile played on your lips. “Easy for you to say, Mr. 3x Formula One Champion.”

He grinned, a flash of mischief in his eyes. “I am pretty good at what I do.”

You laughed softly, the sound genuine and free, a stark contrast to the anxiety that had been swirling within you just moments before. “You are. Okay. I’ll try. But only because you asked so nicely.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear again. “I have other ways of convincing you, you know.”

You shivered at his words, a thrill running through your veins. "Oh, really?" You whispered, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze.

His eyes darkened, a promise smouldering within them. "Oh, really."

The roar of the jet engines finally subsided, replaced by the gentle hum of the cabin’s ventilation system. Outside, the sun beat down on the tarmac of Abu Dhabi International Airport, a stark contrast to the cool, manufactured air surrounding you.

You stretched in your plush leather seat, feeling the residual stiffness of the long flight slowly begin to fade.

You glanced in front of you, where Lando was curled into a seemingly impossible ball, his head lolling precariously close to the aisle. On your right, Charles was a picture of elegant slumber, his dark hair perfectly tousled across his forehead.

A small smile played on your lips.

A sudden, sharp shove sent Lando tumbling forward, his muffled yelp echoing through the cabin. Max, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes, was grinning down at him.

"Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead!" he said, his Dutch accent thick with playful teasing.

You gently reached out, shaking Charles’ arm. "Charles, we’re here," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.

He blinked sleepily, his hazel eyes focusing on you with a disoriented charm.

“Already?” he mumbled, stretching his arms above his head. “It felt like I just closed my eyes.”

"Time flies when you're sleeping," you quipped, earning a tired chuckle from him.

You watched as Lando rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his usual lively energy quickly returning. “Not cool, Max,” he grumbled, though there was no real heat in his tone. “Almost made me faceplant into the floor.”

Max just laughed, a low, rumbling sound that resonated through you.

"Come on," Max said, clapping his hands together, "let's ditch this flying sofa and get to the hotel."

As you moved to gather your things, your fingers brushed against Max’s. A spark, small but undeniable, ignited between you.

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat as his blue eyes met yours. He gave you a subtle, almost imperceptible wink, and a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks.

A small army of hotel staff swarmed the plane, efficiently unloading luggage and ushering you towards a fleet of waiting cars. It was a familiar scene, the controlled chaos that preceded every race weekend, a strange comfort after the long hours spent suspended in the artificial stillness of Max’s private jet.

You followed Max, Lando and Charles into the hotel, the lobby a dizzying spectacle of polished marble, towering floral arrangements, and the hushed murmurs of staff. The receptionist, a woman with a warm smile and efficient hands, greeted Max by name.

You shifted your weight, feeling the fatigue of travel settling deep into your bones. You were so used to this pre-race routine that you could perform it on autopilot.

The adrenaline of the upcoming race, the pressure of qualifying, it was all still to come, and for now, a quiet hotel room and a long nap seemed like a distant paradise.

“Mr. Verstappen, Ms. L/N, here are your keys,” the receptionist said, sliding the cards across the polished counter.

You thanked her with a polite nod, your eyes already searching for the elevator. Lando and Charles, keys in hand, had already disappeared into the throng of people. You and Max made your way towards the elevators, the chatter of the lobby dimming to a background hum. Max, his usual energy subdued by travel fatigue, muttered, “Room 312,” as you both stepped into the elevator.

You leaned against the mirrored wall, your eyes closed, letting the subtle hum of the elevator carry you upwards. You couldn’t even be bothered to check your key card.

All you wanted was to crash on the bed. The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and you followed Max down the hallway, the carpet thick and plush beneath your feet.

Finally, you stood before room 312. Max stopped, his hand already on his key card. He turned to you, a brow raised. "Which room are you in?" he asked, his voice quiet, a touch of the Dutch accent coloring his words.

You finally looked down at your key card. Your eyes widened in disbelief. "It's… 312," you said, your voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "How is it 312?"

Max’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Well, that's a surprise.” he chuckled. He held up his own key card, and as he flipped it you could make out the number, it was indeed 312 too.

A laugh escaped you. “What are the chances of that happening.”

“Guess they really wanted us together” Max said, looking at you with his intense blue eyes, making your heart skip a beat.

“Guess so,” you murmured, your gaze lingering on his face. You felt a familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

"Well, are we going in or are we going to stand here all night?" Max asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You shook your head, a smile playing at your lips. He had a way of bringing you back down to earth, always. You swiped your key card, the light flashed green, and the door clicked open.

You stepped inside, the room instantly enveloping you in its cool, quiet embrace. It was a spacious suite, tastefully decorated in neutral tones with dark wood accents. A king-sized bed dominated one side of the room, and a seating area with a plush couch and a small coffee table occupied the other. A balcony overlooked the glittering cityscape, providing a mesmerizing view of the sprawling metropolis.

Then he spoke, his usual calm demeanor settling in. "You're taking the bed," he said, already moving towards the sofa.

Your heart sank, a sharp pang of disappointment echoing in your chest. Two weeks. Two weeks of dating Max, and in those two weeks, despite living in the same house, you never once shared a bed. He had always opted for the couch or the guest room - never yours. The pattern was starting to feel deliberate, and a nagging insecurity began to take root.

Did he not want you? Was this a sign? Was all this too fast for him?

The questions, like tiny needles, pricked at your confidence. You knew he wasn't the most emotionally expressive person, but this felt… more than that. It felt like a polite, yet firm, rejection. You weren't going to let the uncertainty fester any longer.

You moved quickly, cutting him off before he could fully settle on the couch, your body a tangible barrier in his path. He stopped, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Max,” you said, your voice even, trying to project an authority you weren't quite feeling.

He blinked slowly, his gaze studying you, those intense blue eyes searching yours with an intensity that always made your pulse quicken, even now, amidst your anxiety. "Yes?"

You took a deep breath. "Why?"

He frowned, a crease appearing between his brows. "Why what?"

“Why are you taking the couch?" You knew you sounded more demanding than you intended, but you were done tip-toeing around this.

He looked down at the couch, then back at you, his expression shifting to one of genuine confusion. "Because… you’re taking the bed."

"Yes, I know. But why aren’t you?"

His jaw tightened slightly. "I just... I'm more comfortable on the couch."

The answer, so simple, so easily spoken, only served to infuriate you further. "Comfortable? Really, Max? Or is it something else?"

He shifted on his feet, his gaze darting towards the balcony, a nervous tick you had noticed when he was uncomfortable. "It's just… I sleep better on the couch. It’s… smaller.”

“Smaller? What does that even mean?” You crossed your arms, unable to keep the frustration from creeping into your voice. “We’re dating, Max. Don't you... want to be closer to me."

You tried to keep the hurt from showing on your face. "This isn't about sleep, is it? Is this about… me?"

He finally met your eyes, a flicker of something unreadable in their depth. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, forcing the words past the lump forming in your throat. “Usually couples sleep in each other's arms, and well, I don't get that. It's okay if you don't like that or feel uncomfortable about it, just tell me now because I feel like you don't want me,"

The vulnerability was raw, exposed, but you had reached a point where you needed the truth, whatever it may be. You had held back for so long in fear of rejection, but you realized it was time to stop.

Max waited patiently for you to finish speaking. When you did, you stared at the floor, the floral pattern of the rug suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. Other than your ex, you didn't have much knowledge in relationships, so you didn't even know if sleeping on the couch was a normal thing.

You wondered if you were reading too much into it, but your past experiences had taught you to trust the nagging feeling in your gut.

Max sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of unsaid things, before he crossed the room and pulled you in for a hug. His arms wrapped around you, warm and solid, and you rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“It's not that,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper, thick with something you couldn't quite name. “It's… I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

You blinked, surprised. The statement was so unexpected it almost knocked you off balance. You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, his face a mask of concern.

"Uncomfortable? Max, you're my boyfriend. How could you sleeping in the same bed as me make me uncomfortable?" You were completely baffled.

You wanted him there, close to you, not across the room. You saw his face turn a shade of red, his cheeks flushing a vibrant hue. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous gesture you were beginning to recognize.

"People say that I'm really clingy when I'm asleep or hardly conscious," he muttered, avoiding your gaze. "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable in the night so I decided to keep myself away. I do want to be closer to you and I do want you," he rushed the words out, as if finally admitting something he’d been trying hard to suppress.

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Clingy? Was that the reason? He thought he was protecting you by sleeping on the couch when all you wanted was to be wrapped in his arms?

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth wash over you. He wasn’t pulling away, he was trying to be considerate.

It was a level of care and thoughtfulness you hadn’t expected, especially so early in the relationship.

"Max," you said softly, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. His skin was soft beneath your touch, and his gaze met yours, vulnerable and filled with an earnestness that made your heart ache.

"I'm not going to be uncomfortable. In fact, I'd probably be more uncomfortable sleeping alone after having you just a few meters away. We're dating. This is what couples do, right? We’re trying new things and we’re not alone in this experience, if you're clingy in your sleep, I can just… push you off with my mighty strength and you’ll learn eventually!”

You couldn’t help but smile at how adorably insecure he was. All this time, you had thought he wasn't interested in you physically, but it turned out he was just worried about being too much.

A small smile touched his lips, and for a moment, the tension seemed to dissolve, replaced by a quiet understanding. “So… you’re okay with… the clingy thing?” he asked, a hint of hesitancy in his voice.

You chuckled, “I’m more than okay. I actually find it pretty endearing. But you’re going to have to show me how clingy you really are.” 

He nodded, a blush still coloring his cheeks.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, a flicker of uncertainty still lingering in his eyes.

You nodded, a soft smile gracing your lips. "I'm sure. And maybe, just maybe, we can figure out this whole sleeping-together thing, together." You reached for his hand, threading your fingers through his. 

The hot water pounded against your skin, a welcome assault after the long, cramped flight. You let out a sigh, the steam swirling around you like a comforting embrace. Your muscles finally began to unwind, releasing the tension that had been coiled tight like a spring.

here you are, clean and fresh, ready to begin this new chapter. Well, almost ready. You couldn’t help but replay the image of Max from earlier.

Just before you'd stepped into the bathroom, you'd seen him fidgeting by the bed, his usually confident posture replaced with a nervous energy. He’d been running a hand through his already tousled dirty blond hair, his eyes darting towards the closed bathroom door.

You’d even caught him taking a deep, shaky breath before you had shimmied into the shower.

A soft smile curved your lips. It was endearing, this vulnerability he was showing. You knew he was excited, just shy. You found him utterly adorable.

You turned off the water, the sudden quiet amplifying the gentle sounds filtering in from the rest of the apartment. A shuffle of feet, the quiet clinking of glass – probably him getting a drink of water – and then, silence again.

You wrapped a towel around yourself, taking a moment to smooth it over your skin before stepping out of the shower stall and catching sight of your reflection. Your hair was damp and slightly wild, your cheeks flushed from the heat.

You took another moment to run your fingers through the tangles, trying to give it some resemblance of order. You had a feeling Max wouldn’t mind the little disarray.

He seemed like the 'messy hair is sexy' type.

You opened the bathroom door, your eyes immediately finding Max at the foot of the bed. He was perched on the edge, his back to you, but you were sure that he had been looking at the door.

His shoulders straightened with a slight jolt as he heard the door click open. He turned around, and that familiar, slightly nervous smile returned to his face.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little lower and huskier than usual.

"Hey," you responded, your own voice a gentle purr. You moved towards him, the towel making a soft rustling sound as you walked.

You could feel your own heart thumping with anticipation. You noticed there were two mugs on the bedside table, warm drinks likely made while you were in the shower, which warmed your heart.

He stood up as you approached, closing the distance between you. You were finally close enough to feel the low thrum of heat radiating from him, his eyes looking directly into yours.

You took it as an invitation, reaching out to gently cup his cheek with your hand. The stubble on his chin scratched at your palm, and you couldn't help but give a soft sigh.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your thumb gently caressing his skin.

He swallowed, his gaze flickering down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Yeah, just… yeah.” He chuckled, the sound a little nervous, but no less endearing.

You smiled, your own nervousness melting away under the warmth of his gaze. “You seem a little tense,” you teased, your voice laced with affection.

He ran a hand through his hair again, the gesture making you giggle. “I’m just… excited,” he admitted. “And maybe a little… overwhelmed. This is… nice.” He gestured between you with his hand, his eyes softening on you.

“Nice?” you asked, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

He nodded, a soft blush creeping up his neck. “More than nice,” he corrected, his voice barely above a whisper, “Amazing. Terrifying. But like, in a good way?” He could finally meet your gaze head-on, a genuine warmth replacing his earlier trepidation.

You laughed, the sound echoing softly in the room. "I know exactly what you mean.” You took a step closer, your body almost touching his, and looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Terrifying in a good way too, huh?”

He mirrored your smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He reached out and took your hands in his. His fingers were a little rough against yours, a comforting contrast to your soft skin.

“Absolutely," he said, and he finally dared a small tug, bringing your body closer. You were finally close enough, your legs finally tangling together, your breaths finally in sync.

“So, uh,” he continued, his voice a little rougher now, “Now what?”

"Now," you purred against his lips, your eyes sparkling with adoration, "you take a shower, you stink," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

His eyes widened, a confused look replacing the earlier nervous warmth. "I do?" he said, sniffing at his own arm. You couldn’t help but laugh, a bright, melodic sound that seemed to erase all the awkwardness of the past few minutes.

“I’m kidding, silly.” You reached up and gently pushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “You smell like planes and nervous energy, but you don’t stink, not really.”

He relaxed slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Oh. Right." He chuckled quietly. "I was about to say, I showered this morning."

“I know, I know,” you said, your tone softer now. “But seriously, the shower is nice. You’ll feel even better.” You tugged his hand gently, leading him towards the bathroom. “And besides, you’ve been doing absolutely all the work setting up the hotel room and everything while I've been showering, the shower is the least I can get you to do."

He let you guide him, his earlier nervous energy replaced with a playful smirk. "Wow, such a hard worker. You wound me, truly."

"I know, I'm terrible," you said, giving him a mock pout. "You're just lucky you're cute."

He chuckled, leaning against the bathroom doorframe, watching you. “And you’re… well, you’re something else.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your look. “Oh? Something else, huh? Is that good or bad?"

He stepped closer, his hands finding your waist, pulling you gently into his embrace. “Definitely good,” he murmured, his lips finding the sensitive skin behind your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Very, very good.”

“Good to know,” you whispered back, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer still. "Now, go take that shower. I can already tell you smell like lavender, you really went overboard with the perfume."

He groaned playfully, pulling back slightly. "You're right, I got carried away." He stepped into the bathroom, throwing a roguish grin over his shoulder. "Just wait for me.”

“I will,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, watching him in the reflection in the mirror, a soft smile gracing your face. You listened to the sound of the water starting again, a calming rhythm that seemed to echo the contentment settling in your heart.

Leaning back against the wall, your thoughts swirled. It was funny, how just a few weeks ago, Max was a friend and a teammate. Now, he was this endearing, slightly awkward man, who got flustered at the idea of cuddling.

It felt so natural, you knew that this was something special, this connection you had with him. You wanted to know everything about him. Every bad movie he liked, every quirky habit, every childhood fear. You wanted to be there through every high and low.

The rhythmic drumming of water against the shower tile was starting to feel less like a comforting lullaby and more like a countdown.

You shifted on the edge of your bed, the soft cotton sheet beneath your fingers feeling like a life raft in a sea of butterflies. You’d picked out the softest pajamas, a pale lavender set you’d bought specifically for this occasion, thinking they were a subtle nod to the romantic, blushing anticipation you were feeling.

Max had been adorable, a bundle of barely-contained nerves, when he'd packed his suitcase, a shy smile playing on his lips as he’d pulled out a grey hoodie, claiming it was his "coziest."

The water sounds had been going on for what felt like an eternity. You bounced your leg, a nervous tick you’d been trying to control. You picked up your phone, scrolling aimlessly through Instagram, barely registering the pretty faces and perfectly curated lives.

You put it down again. This was ridiculous, you thought. Why were you so worked up? It was just cuddling. Just holding someone close while you slept.

Except, it wasn't just cuddling. It was Max cuddling, and that was a whole different ball game.

You started to imagine it. His arm around your waist, the warmth of his body pressed against yours... your breath hitched. A shiver, not entirely from cold, ran down your spine.

You got up and walked over to your dresser. You opened the top drawer and stared down at your perfume bottles. Should you put some on? Something light and floral? Or something warmer and more seductive?

You hesitated, pulled back your hand. It was just cuddling. Don't be ridiculous.

The water stopped. The silence that had followed felt amplified, like a sudden, pregnant pause in a conversation. Your heart hammered against your ribs, each beat echoing in your ears.

You heard the gentle squeak of the shower door opening, then the soft thud of bare footprints against the bathroom tiles. You quickly sat back on the edge of the bed, trying to school your expression into something resembling casual composure.

He emerged, a towel wrapped low around his waist, water still beading in his dark hair. He looked good. Ridiculously good. He caught your eye and a soft, hesitant smile spread across his face.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little husky. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Hey," you replied, trying to sound calm and collected. Instead, your voice came out a little breathier than you intended. You cleared your throat. "Took you long enough to get clean." You teased.

He let out a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, sorry. I uh... I might have been... procrastinating a little."

You couldn't help but smile. "Procrastinating?" You raised an eyebrow playfully. "What could you possibly be procrastinating?"

He walked towards the bed, his eyes on the floor. He reached for his bag on the floor, avoiding eye contact. "Nothing," he mumbled. "Just, you know... towels are interesting."

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Interesting, huh? What are they saying these days?"

He looked up, a sheepish grin forming. "They're... telling me to put on clothes." He grabbed his grey hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

"Good idea," you agreed, your gaze lingering on his bare chest for just a moment too long. You turned your head away to not make it awkward.

You could tell this was a big deal for him despite it seeming so casual to the rest of the world.

He finally settled onto the edge of the bed, a noticeable space separating him from you. You could feel the tension radiating off of him; his leg was bouncing in a silent rhythm against the mattress.

He was practically vibrating, a human tuning fork about to go off-key. Your heart did a little flip, it was actually kind of cute seeing him like this.

"So, are you ready?" you asked, a playful lilt to your voice, trying to ease the tension.

"I, uh..." He hesitated, his eyes darting to yours and then away again, focusing intently on some abstract point in the far corner of the room. "I've never... really, you know... done this before."

A small laugh bubbled up, completely involuntarily. You reached out and gently touched his arm, the warmth of your hand contrasting against the coolness of his hoodie. “Max,” you said softly, your voice a soothing balm, “it’s just cuddling. It’s not that big of a deal, is it?”

He turned to face you, his eyes wide and a little panicked. "No, I mean... yes? I don't know! I just... I really like you, okay? And I don't want to... mess things up."

The honesty in his voice melted your heart. You'd only been dating for two weeks, but in that short time, you'd come to truly appreciate Max’s genuine nature, his shy smile, and the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't watching.

You understood his hesitation, the fear of doing something wrong, especially with someone he cared about.

"Hey," you started, squeezing his arm gently, "you’re not going to mess anything up. Just relax. This is supposed to be fun." You patted the space beside you invitingly, “Come here.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he shuffled closer until you were side by side. It was a bit awkward at first, this careful dance between two people still getting to know each other's rhythm.

You decided to take the lead, your earlier confidence resurfacing. You maneuvered so your head was nestled comfortably on his shoulder, one arm lazily wrapping around his torso, and then you casually swung a leg over his.

You felt his body tense, then slowly relax.

The silence that fell wasn't uncomfortable, but rather a comfortable lull, the quiet hum of two people finding their space together. You knew Max was still a little on edge, you could feel the slight tremor in his chest beneath your cheek.

"Should I sing that Dutch song to calm you down?" you muttered, your voice muffled by his hoodie.

He laughed, the sound rumbling against your cheek. “Please,” he said, his voice almost pleading.

You didn’t need to be asked twice. You started, your voice soft and low, the words of the silly little Dutch song rolling off your tongue with practiced ease, a tune you'd picked up during your semester abroad and used ever since to calm your nerves.

“Kleine bloempjes, gele blaadjes, dansen in de wind…” you sang, the melody lilting and playful. You felt him relax ever so slightly beneath you, his breathing becoming a bit more even.

You continued, your hand tracing gentle patterns on his arm. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling, his heart was as loud as a drumbeat in your ear.

When the song was over, the silence that followed was different. It was a comfortable silence, a shared space of warmth and quiet affection.

“Better?” you whispered, your breath tickling his ear.

“Much,” he admitted, his voice still a little hushed. He turned his head, his eyes meeting yours, and you got lost in the deep blue of them all over again.

"I think I'm starting to like everything you do," he admitted, his voice low and a little husky. He shifted slightly and rested his hand on your back, a light, tentative touch.

"Well, I am pretty amazing," you teased, enjoying the way he blushed. Then, you grew serious. "But seriously, you don't have to be nervous, Max. I'm not some fragile flower that will break if you touch me the wrong way."

"It's not that," he rushed to explain, "it's just that... well, you're… you. And I want to make sure I'm doing things right."

You lifted your head a bit, looking directly into his eyes. “Doing what right, Max? You know how to cuddle me, right now.”

He swallowed, his eyes dancing with an unspoken depth. “I guess I was more nervous about what happens after cuddles.”

You laughed again, this time a genuine, heart felt laugh that warmed you. “What could possibly happen after cuddles?” you mocked. “The snuggle monsters will come and steal our socks?”

He laughed too, the sound lighter than before, and you felt a wave of happiness wash over you. Being able to make him laugh always seemed to be a highlight of your day.

"Okay, okay, I get it," he said, his hand moving a little more boldly across your back, his fingers tracing soft circles. "I just want to make you happy, I really do.”

“And you do, Max.” You leaned back down, tucking your head under his chin. The position was perfect; you could feel his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear. “You make me really happy.”

He tightened his hold slightly, and suddenly the nervous tension was gone, replaced by something warmer, comfortable, soft. You both were finally just enjoying each other’s company.

"Do you like this position?" you asked, your voice sleepy. The warmth of his body, the weight of his arm around you, was making you feel incredibly content.

It occurred to you just how easily comfortable you were with each other.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness. "Yeah, I really do."

You stayed like that for a long time, a comfortable silence enveloping the room. Occasionally, one of you would shift slightly, adjusting to be a little closer.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head, and the soft scratch of his hoodie against your cheek. The quiet was punctuated only by the occasional sounds from outside, a car driving by, the laughter of distant voices.

Later, as the sky outside began to darken, you felt yourself drift off, the events of the day melting away. You didn't even register when Max shifted, pulling the soft duvet over you both.

Only when his arm tightened a bit more, pulling you closer to him, did you stir slightly.

"Are you still okay?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

"More than okay," he replied softly, his lips brushing against your hair. "This is perfect."

And as you drifted off to sleep, his words echoing in your mind, you knew he was right. It was perfect, this first awkward, beautifully hesitant cuddle, the beginning of something real, something special. And you couldn't wait to see what else would come.

Later, you were still drifting in that blissful space between sleep and consciousness when you felt a weight on your side.

You opened your eyes slightly and saw Max, his face buried in your neck, his arm thrown possessively across your waist, and his leg tangled between yours. He was practically clinging to you, his body pressed flush against yours.

You smiled, this was definitely a clingy sleeper. He was your clingy sleeper.

The golden afternoon light, a warm, honeyed blanket, spills through the gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across your face. You stir, a deep contented sigh escaping your lips.

It's the kind of sleep that wraps you in a soft cocoon, the kind that leaves you feeling like you've been reborn anew, refreshed and light. You stretch, a slow, languid movement, and that's when you realize something’s amiss.

Or, rather, two somethings. Two very solid, very warm somethings.

Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see is the curve of Max's arm, draped possessively across your waist. His fingers are tucked into the hollow of your hip, pressing you flush against the length of his body.

Another arm, equally insistent, is wrapped around your chest, his hand curled just below your shoulder blade. You’ve forgotten, in that blissful, post-nap haze.

You’ve forgotten the reason you slept so well. It’s the first day you and Max shared a bed together.

A soft laugh bubbles up in your chest. You'd known Max was a cuddler, a natural contact-seeker, but ‘clingy sleeper’ felt like a vast understatement staring at you, quite literally, across the bed.

He’s a human koala, apparently, and you’re the eucalyptus tree.

You turn your head, careful not to jostle him (or, more accurately, to displace his carefully curated system of limbs) and find him still asleep. His face is relaxed, the usual playful crinkle around his eyes smoothed out.

A stray lock of dark hair has fallen across his forehead, and you're struck by a wave of tenderness so strong it almost physically hurts. You reach out a finger, tracing the line of his jaw, the slight stubble that always feels like the softest sandpaper to your touch.

You’ve always admired him, the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his smile could light up the darkest room.

Now, seeing him so unguarded, so vulnerable, a different kind of admiration, something deeper and richer, blossoms within you.

You watch him breathe, the slow rise and fall of his chest, a steady rhythm that somehow grounds you. It feels so natural, so right, to be here, tangled in his limbs.

The room, bathed in the warm, golden glow, seems to hum with a soft, content energy.

But the urge to move, the need to stretch properly, becomes too much. You decide to attempt an escape, a careful, calculated manoeuvre meant to free you from his embrace without waking the sleeping beast. You slowly, painstakingly, ease his hand from your waist. He murmurs something, a low, incoherent sound, and tightens his grip.

“Max?” You whisper, your voice barely audible.

He hums again, his face nuzzling into your shoulder. “Mmm, five more minutes?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

You smile. He's absolutely adorable, and your heart does a little flip. “Max, it’s the afternoon.”

He shifts slightly, his eyes cracking open, revealing the warm, ocean blue that you've grown to love. He blinks a few times, as if trying to focus, and then a slow, lazy smile spreads across his face.

“Oh,” he says, his voice still husky, “did you sleep well?”

“I slept wonderfully,” you reply, your voice warm. “But I'm trapped.”

He chuckles, a low rumble that vibrates against your body. “Sorry,” he says, but his grip doesn’t loosen.

“You’re not, though, are you?” you tease, your fingers playing with the soft hairs at his nape.

He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Nope. Not even a little bit.” He lifts his head to look at you, his expression turning serious, almost vulnerable. "Is it...is it okay? That I’m like this?”

You feel a wave of affection wash over you. “Okay? Max, it’s more than okay. It’s… nice.” You reach up and cup his cheek in your hand. "You're like a human weighted blanket."

He smiles, his eyes sparkling. "I'll take that as a compliment." He pauses, his gaze searching your face. "You’re not… uncomfortable, are you? I know I can be a bit much."

You lean in slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Never. You’re perfect.”

His smile widened, a genuine, beaming smile that always made your chest ache. “Good, now let’s go back to sleep,” he muttered, nuzzling his head back into your shoulder, his arms tightening around you again.

"Max!" You let out a small gasp, a laugh bubbling in your throat. "Didn't you say you planned something today?"

He buried his face in your hair. "We can push it back," he replied, his voice muffled. "This is much more important.”

You knew there was no winning this battle. Max was, as you had quickly discovered, a hopeless romantic and a very clingy sleeper – and a very clingy morning person. You sighed, a mock exasperation in your tone, but secretly you were thrilled.

“Okay, but we’re not staying here all day. I’m starving.”

He pulled back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I can always order something, you know.”

“No, we’re getting up. I need to move.” You gave his arms a slight push, attempting to wiggle out of his grasp. He didn’t budge.

“Not yet,” he said, pulling you back into his chest. “Just a little bit longer.”

You sighed again, giving up the fight for now. “Fine, but you have to tell me what you were planning.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your ear. “I was thinking of taking you to that fancy museum restaurant you were talking about.”

Your eyes widened. “The one with all those modern sculptures?”

“The very same.”

“Max, that sounds amazing! And why are you only telling me now?”

He shrugged, an apologetic smile on his face. “I wanted it to be a surprise. But I guess I’m not very good at surprises.”

“You’re adorable, is what you are.” You leaned up and kissed him again, a lingering kiss that made your heart beat faster. “And yes, we are still going. But we absolutely need to get out of this bed first.”

“Fine, but I get one more kiss,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

You laughed, shaking your head, but you didn’t deny him his kiss. Several kisses, actually. It took a while, and some gentle, but firm, reminding him of the day ahead, but eventually, you managed to extricate yourself from his embrace.

Max, however, decided not to get up – at least not yet. He sat up in bed, watching you with those sparkling blue eyes as you started digging through your drawers for clothes.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he said suddenly, his voice soft, earnest.

You paused, your hand hovering over a dress. You turned to him, a shy smile playing on your lips. “Thank you, but I’m sure I look like a mess.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t. You always look beautiful.”

Your cheeks flushed. “You’re sweet.”

He grinned. “I try.” He then stretched out, long and languid on the bed. “But seriously, you’re like a ray of sunshine in the morning, even if it’s the afternoon now.”

“And you’re like a big, fluffy bear,” you retorted.

He laughed. “A fluffy, clingy bear.”

“Very clingy.” You turned back to him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Are you going to get up, or are you planning on staying there all day?”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine, I will get up. But only because you’re making me.”

He finally pushed himself up, and you let out a laugh, the sound light and airy. It was the start of a beautiful day, a day that had begun with unexpected warmth and affection, a day that was a testament to the connection, the love, that you and Max shared.

And as you watched him stretch, his muscles rippling beneath his skin, you knew that this was just the beginning of many more mornings, and afternoons, spent together, in each other’s arms.

And you couldn't wait.

The cool, silken fabric of your dress glided against your skin as you adjusted your earring, the small diamonds catching the light. You knew the dress was a statement, a bold choice for a first date, but you felt confident, powerful even.

Max, you knew, would be waiting. He'd been pacing the apartment for the last hour, his anticipation palpable even through the closed bathroom door. You’d heard the rustle of his perfectly tailored tuxedo as he checked his reflection in the hall mirror, the soft hum he subconsciously made when he was nervous.

Taking a final glance at yourself, you decided you couldn't delay any longer. You pushed the door open and strutted into the living room, your heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.

"How do I look?" you asked, your voice a playful purr, as you fastened the delicate clasp of your other earring.

Max, lounging on the sofa, swiveled around to face you. You watched as his eyes traveled down your form, taking in the low-cut neckline of your dress, the way it hugged your waist, and fell elegantly over your hips.

His mouth parted slightly, his usually composed demeanor shattering for a moment. "I-uh- You look- You look great," he stammered, his gaze lingering on your décolletage, a hint of color rising in his cheeks.

You laughed, a soft, knowing sound. "Yeah okay, let's keep our thoughts innocent," you said, shaking your head with a smirk. The way he looked at you, captivated and slightly flustered, was intoxicating.

He blinked, looking up to meet your eyes, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Right. Innocent. Of course," he replied, clearing his throat. He stood up and offered you his arm. “Shall we, then? Or are you going to make me stare at you all night.”

You slipped your arm through his, the fabric of his tuxedo jacket smooth beneath your fingertips. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” you teased, as you walked towards the door, his hand resting possessively on your lower back.

The ride to the museum was a symphony of nervous excitement bubbling beneath the surface of casual conversation. Max filled you in on the details of the museum, explaining that it was a private collection, hidden away from the public eye.

His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself leaning closer to him, drawn in by his passion.

Arriving at the imposing, unmarked building, you were a little surprised. It looked more like a bank than a museum. As you walked inside, the cold, marble floors reflected the dim lights of the main hall.

You were greeted by a dapper older man in a dark suit who looked like the kind of man who wouldn't break a law, but would bend them if needed.

"Ah, Mr. Verstappen, pleasure to see you again," the man said, his voice a low rumble. "And you must be the delightful…." he trailed off expectantly, his eyes on you.

"This is…" Max started, placing his hand on the small of your back again, “This is… this is my companion for the night.” He gave you a brief smile, “This is Y/N.”

“Ah, wonderful, a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N, Mr. Verstappen has exquisite taste I must say,” the man smiled. “I will leave you to your tour. Feel free to wander as you wish, and if you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask.”

As the man left, you turned to Max, a small smile playing on your lips. "Exquisite taste? Really?" you teased.

He blushed, the tips of his ears turning a delightful shade of pink. "Well, I do, don't I? I mean, look at you," he said, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

The museum was a treasure trove, the kind you could spend days exploring. Ancient artifacts, forgotten masterpieces, and strange, unexplainable objects filled the dimly lit rooms.

You walked hand in hand, Max pointing out his favorite pieces and telling you the stories behind them.

He was a wealth of knowledge, and you loved seeing his eyes light up with passion.

You can’t help but feel as though you’ve been transported to another world, a world where only the two of you exist.

"This is amazing, Max," you say, your voice soft. "I’ve never seen anything like it."

He turns to face you, and his gaze holds a warmth that makes your heart flutter. "I wanted to share it with you," he says, his voice a little lower than usual. “I knew you’d appreciate it.”

You smile, the corners of your eyes crinkling. The quiet intimacy of the museum feels perfect, a secret world built just for the two of you.

Eventually, the setting sun begins to cast long shadows across the museum, painting the walls in hues of orange and gold.

Max guides you toward the outer restaurant, a haven of modern elegance that contrasts sharply with the old-world charm you've just explored.

The restaurant's large windows offer a breathtaking view of the sunset, the sky ablaze with vibrant colors. You instinctively reach for your phone, wanting to capture the moment.

You start recording, the lens catching the fiery hues of the setting sun, the silhouettes of the surrounding landscape, and finally, you pan the camera towards Max, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches the sunset.

"Oh, sorry! Did I ruin the video?" he asks, his brow furrowed with worry.

You shake your head, laughing lightly. "No, Max, you made it better," you assure him, your gaze lingering on his face. “You just added the main attraction to the video.”

He grins, relieved. “Okay, good.”

The warm light of the sunset turns his eyes to crystal blue, and you can’t help but stare for a moment. You snap some photos of him, his features illuminated by the golden glow, his smile a captivating mixture of shyness and genuine joy.

After showing him the photos, you guide him on how to take pictures of you. He takes a few, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tries to capture the perfect angle, following your playful prompts.

You giggle when you see the final result - he's a natural.

"Okay, one for ourselves." Max suggests, pulling out his phone and extending his arm.

You lean into him, your cheek brushing against his, and take a selfie. You both glance at the picture, a visual record of the shared joy in your eyes.

The public wasn't ready for this relationship, not yet anyway. This moment, this happiness, was meant for just the two of you, a secret you guarded like one of the treasures hidden within the museum.

“This whole day has been amazing,” you say, tucking your phone away.

Max’s hand finds yours on the table, his touch sending a pleasant shiver through you. “It was perfect,” he says, his gaze locking with yours. “And it’s only just beginning.”

A playful grin spread across your face. "Good, because I need more pictures for when I have to soft-launch this relationship," you said, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

You watched his brow furrow slightly, a charming look of confusion that made you want to laugh.

"What's a soft-launch?" Max asked, his voice tinged with curiosity. He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb caressing the back of your palm.

You tilted your head playfully. "Oh, you know," you drawled, "it's when you start dropping little hints, subtle clues that you might be seeing someone without explicitly saying it. Like posting a picture of a restaurant we went to, but not showing our faces. Or maybe a shot of your hand holding a wine glass, and mine is just barely in the frame. It's all very strategic," you added with a wink.

Max laughed, a low, resonant sound that made your stomach flip. “Strategic, huh? So, you’re already planning our big reveal, even before our first date is over?” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Well, a girl has to plan ahead,” you replied, your tone light but sincere. “This whole thing, with keeping it a secret for a while… it’s exciting, but it’s not sustainable forever, right? I think our friends are starting to suspect something."

Max took a moment to digest this, his gaze thoughtful. "I guess you're right," he said finally. "It's been nice, having this just for us. Like we have our own little secret world in the middle of all the chaos."

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, your fingers intertwining with his. “And when we do decide to tell everyone, we get to decide when and how. The soft-launch is just a little… prologue to the main event, I suppose.”

“I like the way you think,” Max said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “So, what kind of pictures are we going to take tonight to fuel the soft-launch?”

You giggled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Well, seeing as we’re surrounded by so much beauty, I think we have a lot of choices. Maybe a silhouette against the city lights?” you suggested, turning your head to admire the twinkling skyline.

“Or perhaps a shot of our hands together, holding an ancient artifact? Something artsy and mysterious.”

Max’s smile widened. “I’m in. You’re the expert. But," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I have one suggestion of my own.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let’s take a picture of us kissing, in front of that ancient Egyptian mural. Something that screams passionate romance, but that we keep private, for now, just for us. Something for us to look back on when this is all public and we want to remember what it felt like when it was just us in our secret world.”

Your breath hitched. The idea was undeniably thrilling, a delicious secret between two people who were navigating a very public life. “That,” you whispered back, your heart thumping in your chest, “is a brilliant idea.”

And so, you spent the next little while taking seemingly innocuous pictures, careful not to give away the intimacy of your relationship, while knowing the picture you were both looking forward to was safely stored away on your phone.

You laughed, you whispered, you reveled in the space between you both. You were no longer just living in a secret, you were thriving in it.

You were a team, making tiny decisions on how you would slowly show yourselves to the world. It was a shared excitement that buzzed through you both.

As the moon climbed higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the museum’s terrace, you realised that the night had flown by. The museum, once an unfamiliar and grand space was now somehow warm and comforting.

It held the secrets of you and Max, a space where you both could be yourselves, a space that gave you both this intimate peace.

“I think,” Max said, his voice soft and contemplative, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between you, “that I’m going to enjoy this soft-launch process more than I thought. And,” he added, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat, “I’m really enjoying being able to share this with you.”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Me too," you whispered, pulling back to gaze into his eyes. "More than you know."

As you walked back through the halls of the museum, hand in hand, you knew that this was only the beginning. Your relationship, like a rare and precious artifact, was just being unearthed, and you were both ready to share it with the world, in your own time, at your own pace.

The secret had been sweet, but the future, you suspected, was going to be even more extraordinary, a journey of love and discovery that you were both eager to embark on together.

And you had the perfect, secret picture to carry with you, a reminder of every moment leading up to this one. . . .

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yourusername posted a story

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maxverstappen1 just posted a story.

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The harsh studio lights beat down on you, reflecting off the polished table separating you from the rest of the Formula 1 pack. You could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a scalpel.

The interviewer, a woman with a carefully constructed smile, had just asked you, "Y/N, do you think that Red Bull will finally win the constructors this week?"

The question hung in the air, a blatant attempt to ignite a feud between Red Bull and Ferrari, the two teams locked in a bitter battle for the championship.

Your heart hammered a bit faster, not from the pressure, but from the awareness of Max, sitting just a few feet away. He was your best-kept secret, your forbidden pleasure, and the man you were now forced to appear coldly professional towards.

"Well, looking at the data and the car," you began, your voice smooth and practiced, "I think there's a high percent chance to win it." You kept your gaze fixed firmly on the interviewer, the practiced calm of a seasoned driver radiating from you.

You refused to even glance in Max’s direction, knowing that a single flicker of recognition could expose your secret.

The interviewer, clearly disappointed by your diplomatic answer, quickly moved on to Charles and Carlos, peppering them with similar questions, their responses just as measured and professional.

You could feel Max's eyes on you, a warm weight on your skin, and the urge to meet his gaze was almost overwhelming. You focused instead on your fingernails, the glossy paint a small anchor in a sea of chaos.

The questions kept coming, each one designed to stir up controversy, to extract a juicy headline. They asked about car development, track strategies, and the pressure of the championship, and you answered them all with the same practiced detachment.

You had learned to compartmentalize, to separate your personal life from the brutal honesty of the racing world. It was how you kept your relationship with Max safe, a delicate balance between public rivalry and private passion.

During a short break, you reach for your water bottle, the plastic crinkling loudly in the sudden silence. You feel a slight brush against your hand, and your eyes flick down to see one of Max’s discarded pens.

He's watching you from the corner of his eye, a small, playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You want to laugh, to reach out and touch him, but you simply pick up the pen and gave it back to him, your face a mask of indifference.

The interview continued, and you found yourself becoming numb to the constant probing. You noticed in your periphery that Max has started to subtly moved closer to yours, an inch at a time.

You almost smiled at his audacity, his need for you, but you kept your composure. The interviewer, sensing the subtle shift, tries to steer the conversation towards the relationship between teammates.

"Y/N, you've been battling Max neck and neck all season. What's it like, being such a close rival?"

Your mind raced. You couldn’t tell them the truth – that you and Max had been battling not only on the track, but in your own hearts, trying to reconcile the demands of the sport with your growing affection for each other.

You settled on a careful, albeit vague response.

"It's a challenge," you said, your voice measured, "we push each other, and that's ultimately good for both of us." You felt Max's gaze intensify, and you finally allowed yourself a brief, almost imperceptible glance in his direction.

He was watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

The questions continued for another agonizing thirty minutes, and you began to feel like a puppet, your words carefully chosen, your emotions buried deep beneath the surface.

"Y/N, two more question. What's your prediction for this weekend’s race?"

Max looked at you, his eyes sparkling with an unspoken challenge. You knew what he wanted, the thrill of the race, the sheer audacity of hoping to beat him on the track.

He wanted you to openly admit, within the confines of your professional persona that you were coming for him. You almost laughed at the audacity of that situation.

You straightened your back, a confident smile playing on your lips. "I intend to win," you said, your gaze unwavering.

It was a statement of intention, a promise to yourself and a silent acknowledgment of the silent game you were playing with Max, the push and pull of your hidden romance.

A low chuckle rumbled from beside you. You could feel Max’s amusement, his thrill at your audacity. It was a reaction you understood well, a kind of shared language only you two could speak.

“Okay, and the last question,” the interviewer continued, a glint in their eye, “how does it feel, this being your last race in Red Bull, since Perez is still registered to race next year?”

The words landed like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of you. Your face fell, a flicker of surprise and hurt momentarily taking over.

You hadn't discussed it with Christian, not officially, not in a way that would solidify your position within the team. You had been focusing on the race, the chance to prove yourself, to earn your place. You hadn't wanted to think about the possibility of leaving, not yet.

The interviewer had gotten the reaction they wanted, the crack in your otherwise impenetrable facade.

You took a deep breath, forcing a smile back onto your face. “Well, depending on my performance this week, you might be seeing me more often,” you joked, trying to keep the lightness in your tone.

The interviewer, however, looked unconvinced. The air still felt heavy with the question.

The interview wrapped up shortly after, leaving you feeling like you’d just completed a grueling qualifying session. The lights were still too bright, the tension still too thick.

You wanted to escape, to find a corner where you could just breathe.

“You okay?” Max’s voice was low, his hand brushing against your arm as you stood up. It was a fleeting contact, a whisper of affection in public, but it was enough to send a shiver through you.

“Yeah… just a bit blindsided by that last question,” you admitted. You moved away from the cameras, walking towards the quieter corner of the room. He followed, always the gravity to your orbit.

You both found solace in the small, closed off corner, the noise of the media room fading into a dull murmur.

“You said you wanted to win,” Max stated, his voice laced with the teasing note you’d grown so fond of. “You confident, are you?”

You leaned against the wall, folding your arms. “I always am, Max.” You met his gaze, the unspoken connection between you bubbling to the surface.

“Even against me?” He stepped closer, his presence filling the space between you.

“Especially against you,” you whispered, the words laced with a secret challenge.

He chuckled, that deep, rumbling sound that always made your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he said, his eyes sparkling with a dangerous light. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The conversation shifted, as it always did, away from the public eye and into the realm of your carefully guarded private world. “Did you see Christian after the qualifying? He was in a mood. I think they expect something big from both of us this weekend,” You began, trying to shift the focus away from the news.

Max let his hand graze your arm again, a fleeting touch that sent a wave of warmth through you. "I did," He took a cautious look around the corner before continuing, "He seemed very uneased which is very unusual for our boss."

You both shared a silent laugh, the understanding of your complicated situation binding you closer.

"I'm going to see Christian now," you said determined for your future in Red Bull.

The studio lights were harsh, reflecting off the polished table separating Christian Horner from Toto Wolff. It felt like a battlefield, not a talk show set.

Christian shifted in his seat, a forced smile plastered on his face, while Toto, ever the picture of composed elegance, offered a curt nod. Sky Sports, in their infinite wisdom, had decided this was good television – pitting the two most dominant, and arguably most antagonistic, team principals against each other for a season-review segment.

"Hello, this is Sky Sports, and I'm with Toto Wolff, the team principal of Mercedes, and Christian Horner, team principal of Red Bull," Steve Jones announced cheerfully, oblivious to the simmering tension.

"Red Bull is currently leading in the constructors, and Max has already secured the drivers' championship. Mercedes is third, but if they perform exceptionally well this last weekend, they could potentially snatch the constructors from Red Bull and Ferrari."

Christian bit back a sarcastic comment about the ‘exceptionally well’ part, focusing on the fact that Ferrari was also in the mix. They were here to be subjected to a parade of carefully selected clips from the season – highlights, lowlights, and everything in between.

It was a cruel exercise in reliving the year’s triumphs and tribulations, especially when shared with the man who had been his constant nemesis.

The first clip flickered onto the screen, a montage of Max Verstappen's dominant wins. Christian couldn't help but smile genuinely.

It had been a phenomenal season for Red Bull, a testament to the hard work and dedication of his entire team.

"Max really has been on another level this year, Christian," the interviewer prompted.

"He has," Christian replied, his gaze flickering towards Toto, who remained impassive. "The whole team has worked tirelessly. It's been a well-deserved championship." He made a point of subtly emphasizing “well-deserved”.

The next clip was a Mercedes pit stop blunder, a chaotic few seconds that cost them valuable time during a race early in the season. Toto’s jaw tightened slightly, though his expression remained remarkably controlled.

“Toto, that looks like a pit stop you’d rather forget,” Steve said, a hint of mischievousness in his tone.

“These things happen in racing,” Toto said, his voice cool, “It’s a complex sport, and mistakes are inevitable. We learn from them and move forward.” His tone suggested the conversation was closed. Christian, however, was far from finished.

"Indeed," Christian said, leaning forward slightly, "though, some mistakes seem more… recurring than others." He offered a polite, but undeniably pointed, smile. Toto's eyes narrowed, a barely perceptible flicker of anger behind the carefully crafted facade.

The clips continued – a Red Bull mechanical failure, a heated moment from a team radio message, a Mercedes podium celebration following a rare victory.

Each clip served as a new opportunity to poke, prod, and subtly undermine the other.

The show was nearing the end when a clip of Christian celebrating a win showed up. He was laughing heartily, his arm around Max, a picture of pure elation.

“You seem genuinely happy there, Christian,” Steve said.

“We had a good day. There have been many good days this year,” Christian said. He glanced at Toto who was watching him with an unreadable expression.

“And you Toto, how does it feel to watch your rival celebrate?” Steve asked, clearly trying to stir up some drama.

“It’s part of sports,” Toto said diplomatically, “They were good this year. We will be ready next year.”

They were both masters at this game, the subtle jabs masked by polite smiles and carefully worded platitudes. Christian had to admire Toto's coolness, even if he hated the man.

The segment continued, a carefully curated dance of veiled antagonism, going over their season highs and lows, the victories and the defeats. Until the screen flashed a video clip, a stark shift in tone.

It was from the press conference, just hours ago, the forced cheerfulness replaced by a raw vulnerability.

The interviewer's voice cut through, "Okay, and the last question," he continued, a glint in their eye, “how does it feel, this being your last race in Red Bull, since Perez is still registered to race next year?”

The camera zoomed in on Y/N's face, her smile faltering for just a moment, betraying the hurt she was clearly trying to hide.

She took a deep breath, forcing the smile back onto her face, the lightness in her tone almost too practiced, "Well, depending on my performance this week, you might be seeing me more often," she joked, trying to keep the lightness in her tone, though a hint of steel was there too.

The clip ended there. It had been a great final race, one of her best which made the question all the more hurtful.

Christian felt a pang of guilt, watching Y/N's forced smile. He knew why she looked mad. He still had to make an important decision, a decision that was tearing at him.

Perez was the seasoned veteran with consistency, but Y/N, the rookie with speed and an audacity that lit up the track, was a force to be reckoned with.

Toto, ever the opportunist, decided to strike. A wide grin spread across his face, the kind that made Christian want to punch him.

"Oh Christian, you're letting go of Y/N, right? Perfect! I'm sure George will be happy about finding his new teammate," he purred, his eyes gleaming with a calculated malice.

It was a low blow, and Christian knew it. Everyone knew Lewis was having a bad season, but to suggest so openly that they would kick him out for a great rookie, was cruel.

He knew that would get to Christian and it did.

“Wow, so now you want both of my drivers? That’s called being greedy,” Christian shot back, his own placid demeanor cracking under the pressure.

He had been perfectly happy with Toto's veiled insults but this was too far. He was coming for his drivers.

"Just stating the obvious," Toto simply replied, giving a small shrug. It was a blatant attempt to unsettle him, to make him doubt his own decision. And it was working.

“You’re forgetting there’s another driver in Mercedes,” Christian retorted, forcing a chuckle, “are you ready to throw your champion out?”

“He will be back, do not worry, just like you’re going to stick with Perez next year,” Toto said, his tone oozing with a false sympathy. “Let me tell you, you will regret not having Y/N, that girl will be a champion one day.”

He looked straight at Christian. “When she wins, don’t come crawling back to us to get her.”

"Who said I'm letting her go? She's already a big part of Red Bull's family and it's going to take a lot for her to go away," Christian said, his voice now raised.

Toto smiled at him. “Excuses, excuses. I’ll make sure to add you to my speech of how you helped her at the start,” he said with a sly smile.

Christian gave the mic to a staff member before leaving with Y/N. They walked in comfortable silence, the noise of the paddock fading away with each step.

She knew Christian was waiting for her to say something, to make a decision, but she wanted to process everything in her own space, away from the prying eyes and endless negotiations.

As they entered his office, a space that reflected his organized yet focused persona, Y/N finally broke the silence.

“An hour, Christian?” she said, her voice still carrying a hint of amusement. “Really? You couldn’t have wrapped it up in 30 minutes?”

Christian chuckled, leaning back against his desk. “I was enjoying baiting Toto. You have to admit, he takes the bait every single time.”

“I think you both enjoyed it far too much,” Y/N retorted. “You know that whole scene is a performance, right?”

“Of course it is,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, “But it’s an important performance. We need to show the world why Red Bull is the best option.”

“And what about what I want?” she asked. “Is that considered?”

Y/N didn't hesitate. The words were out before she could even fully form them in her mind. "I want to stay in Red Bull," she stated, the statement ringing with conviction.

There was no room for doubt or second-guessing. Despite the allure of Mercedes and the challenge of a new environment, her heart was firmly rooted here.

Christian raised an eyebrow, a small smile returning to his lips, a mixture of surprise and relief flashing through his features. “Are you sure?” he asked, the question almost rhetorical.

“Yep,” she replied, her voice firm, a genuine smile finally breaking through her earlier tension. The relief was palpable, washing over her in a warm wave. A decision, finally, made.

Christian nodded, a satisfied expression settling on his face. “Okay, I'll see what I can do. You will know by the end of this week,” he said, his tone indicating the discussion was over and he was moving onto the next item on his never-ending list of tasks.

He settled back into his chair, turning his attention to the paperwork strewn across his desk.

You lingered for a moment, your mind buzzing. You had spoken your truth, laid your cards on the table. Now, it was a waiting game.

You made your way out of the office, heading back to the garage.

Max was there, his engineer deep in discussion with him, the usual debrief in full swing. He caught sight of you and gave you a quick, almost imperceptible nod, a subtle change in his expression indicating he knew something was up.

You two might be discreet in public, but you had an understanding, a silent language spoken between two people who shared so much, not just a team, but a life.

Later, back at your hotel room, after both had showered and changed, you finally found the words to break the silence that had settled between you.

"I spoke to Christian," you said, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Max as he paced in front of the window.

He turned, his blue eyes meeting hers, a flicker of something akin to anxiety in your depths.

"And?" he asked, the single word laden with questions.

"I told him I want to stay," you stated simply, watching his reaction carefully.

The tension that had been coiled within him seemed to unwind, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. A small smile played on his lips as he walked over and sat next to you.

"Good," he whispered, taking you hand in his.

"Good?" you echoed, tilting your head, your eyebrow arched in amusement. "That's it?"

Max chuckled, squeezing your hand. “What else is there to say? I’m glad,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I want you here.”

"I know," you replied, your own smile widening.

"This whole thing has been... annoying," Max admitted, his usual confident swagger replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "It's not like you're not good, you're amazing, I don't want you to leave, but I also don't want you to feel like you have to stay. It has to be your choice, not because of me."

You understood. He had been walking a tightrope, wanting you to stay, desperately, but also knowing it had to be you decision, not influenced by your relationship or the pressure of the team.

“I know, Max,” you said, squeezing his hand back. “It’s my choice. And I choose to be here.”

"Then that's all that matters," he replied, pulling you into a hug, burying his face in your hair.

You stayed like that for a while, the silence comfortable, a shared understanding passing between you two. You were both drivers, both driven, but together, you were something more. . .

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The roar of the crowd is a physical force, vibrating through your bones, through the very air you breathe. It's a familiar sensation, one you've learned to both crave and ignore. Today, though, it feels different.

More…intense. This isn't just another qualifying session; this is it. The final showdown, the battle for pole position. You're in the cockpit, strapped in, the familiar scent of fuel and hot rubber filling your senses.

Your hands grip the wheel, knuckles white, the leather warm against your skin. This is your domain. You are one with the machine, a perfect symbiosis of human and engineering.

Your eyes flick to the timing screen. Okay, you’re P2 heading into this final run. Your teammate is some distance back. Max's name glares at you from the top spot, a bright, taunting beacon. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

He's fast, no doubt about that, the fastest today in fact – but you're not about to let him take it without a fight, especially not when you know you have the pace.

Especially when you want to make him work for it.

You take a deep breath, the tension in your chest a knot you need to unravel. ‘Ok y/n just focus,’ Joseph, a calm voice amidst the chaos, crackles over your headset. ‘Tyres are warmed, engine temp okay. Let’s go show them.’

You acknowledge with a nod, although he can't see it, and grip the wheel tighter. The green light snaps on, and you’re away, the car launching forward with a brutal, exhilarating surge of power.

The first corner is a dance of precision, every input deliberate, every movement calculated. You apex perfectly, feeling the tyres bite into the asphalt. The G-force presses you into your seat, a heavy hand forcing you to stay locked in.

You’ve been working hard to perfect that corner all weekend. This is your track, you know every bump, every camber change. You’ve poured every ounce of your energy into this run.

You shift up through the gears, the engine screaming behind you like a furious beast. You throw the car into the next chicane, the tyres protesting with a high-pitched squeal, but you're in control, a masterful conductor of speed and precision.

The car feels alive beneath you, surging forward in a symphony of mechanics.

You push, and push harder, daring to go right to the limit, every inch, every hundredth of a second, matters now. You see the sector times flashing on your steering wheel. Purple. Purple. Purple.

A surge of adrenaline floods your veins, a heady mix of excitement and focus. You’re on a flyer, everything is falling perfectly into place.

You navigate through the hairpin, the car teetering on the edge, the slightest misstep and you could be in the wall. You dance with the car, balancing it on a knife's edge. And you nail it.

As you accelerate out, your eyes flick to the timing screen again. You're on course, right there, on pace with Max. The final sector is your strength, the fast, flowing curves where the car is allowed to breathe.

You push the car to its absolute limit as you begin to glide through the section, each corner a blur of colour and speed. You flow through the corners effortlessly.

You power out of the final corner, pushing the pedal to the floor, the engine roaring in protest. You feel the car give its all, vibrating as if it could explode under the pressure. You shoot across the finish line, the car shuddering to a stop.

The pit wall explodes in chatter. Your engineer's voice rings loud in your ears. ‘Y/N, that was incredible!’.

And it was. You can feel it.

You take a deep breath, hands still gripping the wheel, waiting for your final time to register. It appears on your steering wheel. Your jaw drops. You've done it! But then… your heart sinks a little.

You’re in second. Max has gone faster. By just a fraction.

You plastered a fake smile on your face, attempting to engage with the journalists.

You answered their questions with practiced ease, praising the team, thanking the sponsors, and saying you tried your best, before rushing into the Red Bull building, desperate to escape.

After your debriefing, you retreated to your drivers’ room, locking the door behind you. 

You didn’t want to see anyone, especially not Max. You felt like a failure. You thought that, today, you would beat him in qualifying, and it was just not happening, no matter what you do. 

A soft knock echoed through the room, and instinctively, you knew who was on the other side. “Y/N?” Max’s voice filtered through the door, a gentle rumble that was usually enough to make your heart flutter. 

Now, it just felt like another layer of pressure. He knew you too well. 

“Go away, Max,” you called out, your voice surprisingly rough. 

You didn’t want to talk, not right now. Especially to him. Not in this state. 

“No,” he replied simply. That was the thing about Max. Once he wanted something, or to talk to someone, he was persistent. 

Usually, you loved him for that. Today, however, it just made you feel more irritated. 

“Please, just leave me alone,” you said, your voice laced with that irritation. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.” He knocked again; this time, the sound had a gentleness to it, almost pleading. “I just want to talk to you.” 

You sighed, leaning your head back against the door. “What is there to talk about, Max? You won, I lost. Again. You’re better than me, end of story.” The words were sharp, laced with the bitterness of disappointment. 

A moment of silence passed before Max spoke again, “That’s not true, and you know it. Qualifying is just one part of the weekend. I know you pushed. I could see it.” 

You scoffed softly to yourself, “Oh really? Could you ‘see it’ from pole position?” 

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. I know you’re upset, but I’m not trying to rub it in. I’m here because I care about you.” He let out an audible sigh and you heard him lean against the door. “Can we just talk?” 

You knew you should just open the door, you wanted to open the door. He was your boyfriend after all, even if it was a secret to the rest of the paddock. 

But that just made it worse. You knew that you could be vulnerable with him, but the constant competition and him being better was just eating you alive. 

“No, Max. I don’t want to talk.” You could hear the plea in your own voice. 

“So you’re going to stay locked in there? You need to get some rest, we have the race tomorrow,” he said with a sigh. You could hear the worry in his voice. 

“I will. Just not now.” 

“Fine.” His voice was low now, defeated. “But I’m not going far. If you need anything, I’ll be here.” 

You heard his footsteps walk away, and you felt a pang of guilt with his tone and words. You didn’t want to hurt him or make him feel as if he was the reason you were upset. He was the one of the reasons you were okay. 

You sighed once more and got up to open the door. You knew that if you let this linger, it will keep eating at you, and with the race tomorrow, you wanted to feel better. 

You softly opened the door and his eyes met yours instantly. He hadn’t gone far after all. Standing there in his racing suit, and his hair slightly messed up, he looked more handsome than ever. 

You knew, deep down as you looked at him, that even though the competition was difficult, what you had with him was worth it. 

“Hey.” You said softly, and in an instance, he had stepped between the doorway and pulled you into a hug. 

“Hey,” he whispered back, his face buried into your hair. “I’m sorry you feel this way. You were amazing today.” He pulled back slightly to look at you straight, his blue eyes concerned. “And I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” 

You shook your head gently and snuggled into his chest again, “I know, Its just… I wanted to beat you today.” 

He let out a soft chuckle and pulled you into the room, shutting the door behind you. “I know that too.” 

“It’s just… this competition… it’s relentless,” you admitted, finally letting your guard down.  

He held you tighter and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I know. But you have to remember why you do it.” 

You shrugged. “I don’t even know anymore. Maybe I’m just not good enough.” 

He quickly pulled back and raised his eyebrow. “Don’t you ever say that. You’re incredibly talented, Y/N. The best in the paddock. Even better than me.” He smiled gently at you. “We both know I just got lucky today.” 

You looked up at him, not believing his words. He knew you well and he knew that you always doubted yourself. “Sure.” You said, rolling your eyes jokingly. 

“I’m serious, you know? You have so much potential. And to be honest, I love the competition with you. It makes me better.” He took your hands and looked at you dead in the eye. “And you will beat me one day. I know it.” 

You smiled, feeling the tension ease away. “You really think so?” 

“I do.” He grinned and squeezed your hands. “Now, how about we get some food and just relax before the race tomorrow?” 

A smile spread across your face. “I like the idea.” 

He kissed you softly, and you forgot, for a brief moment, the pressure of the competition, the frustration of losing. All that faded away with the touch of his lips.

As you pulled away, you knew, deep down, that as much as you desired to be on the top step, the most important thing was what you had with Max and that was something more special than winning. 

You would never give that up. And you knew, as you looked into his eyes, that you would indeed beat him one day.

But until then, you were happy to just try. Together. 

You followed Max out of your room, towards your shared space, and you knew, that as long as he was by your side, you could face anything. Your competition, with him and against the rest of the grid, would push you. 

But your love for Max would make you stronger. . . .  

The roar of the crowd is a distant hum, a low thrumming against the frantic rhythm of your pulse. You grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, the leather slick against your palms.

The air in the cockpit is thick with anticipation, the scent of burning rubber and high-octane fuel a heady, almost intoxicating mix. The red lights above the start line blaze, each one a hammer blow against your already strained nerves.

You’re acutely aware of the weight of the moment - the last race of the season, the last race of your career if you don't pull this off.

“Lights out and away we go!” David Croft's voice explodes through your headset, a sudden, almost jarring jolt. You react instinctively, your foot slamming down on the accelerator, the car lunging forward like a caged beast freed.

The world becomes a blur of color and motion. You’re in second, to your left, is the crimson and navy blur of his car. Max.

The first few laps are a brutal ballet of speed and precision. You weave through the pack, battling for position, your heart pounding against your ribs. There's a crash behind you, the sickening sound of tearing metal and screeching tires.

The safety car is deployed, bunching the cars together, a brief lull in the chaos. You exhale deep, trying to calm the storm raging inside you.

The safety car pulls in, and the green flag flies again. The race explodes back into life. Max accelerates, pulling away slightly. Your eyes narrow. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.

This isn't just about the race anymore; it's about proving something to yourself, to everyone who ever doubted you. And maybe, just maybe, to him.

You push your car, inching closer, taking every corner with calculated risk. You can feel the heat radiating from your engine, the vibrations of the tires screaming against the asphalt.

You’re glued to Max’s rear wing, calculating every move, searching for an opening, a single mistake that might give you the edge.

The laps tick by, each one a grueling test of your skill, your endurance, your will. You’re breathing hard, sweat stinging your eyes, your muscles aching.

You’re pushing yourself beyond the limit, chasing the tail of his Red Bull, the finish line growing closer with every agonizing lap.

You see an opportunity on the next corner, the perfect turn, the perfect braking point, the perfect chance. It’s a risky move, one that could easily send you spinning into the wall if you miscalculate.

But you have to try. This is it.

You lock your brakes, your tires screaming in protest, and cut to his inside, your car lunging forward. Your heart is in your throat, the world narrowing to the car in front of you and the sliver of asphalt you're now occupying.

You’re neck-and-neck, your wheels inches apart, the air thick with the tension.

There's a moment of pure, raw speed, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You are pushing yourself and your car to the max. This is it; the final corner, in the final lap, of the race, before the end of your career

You hear Joseph’s voice, sharp and urgent, “Y/N, be careful!” He knows the risk you’re taking.

You don’t reply, your focus laser-sharp. You keep your foot on the gas, your knuckles white as bone, and then, you do it. You’re ahead, the nose of your car inches into first place, the finish line a blur of colors and emotions.

You cross the line, the world exploding in cheers and the deafening roar of the crowd. You’ve done it. You've won.

Your mind struggles to catch up. You barely register the immense relief that washes over you, the adrenaline still flooding your body. You glance to your right and through the fence you see a sign being held aloft.

Your team.

And it reads, just as you hoped, ‘Y/N P1, Max P2, and Constructors' Champions.’ The confirmation you’ve been longing for, the culmination of a season of dedication and teamwork.

You pull into the pit lane, your heart pounding, your hands shaking. As you unbuckle your helmet, you can barely believe what you’ve just accomplished. You and Max were the champions. You’ve won it.

You run, not walk, to the pit wall, your team is already celebrating. Christian stands proudly in front of the crowd, and as you reach him, his face breaks into a fatherly grin.

You embrace him tightly, a hug that holds more than just victory—it’s a lifetime of shared dreams and unwavering support.

"You did it, kid," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "You absolutely did it."

You pull back, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “We did it, Christian,” you correct, “All of us.”

He chuckles, a warm, rumbling sound. “Aye, we did. You just went and made sure of it, didn't you?"

The crowd is chanting your name now, a rhythmic wave of sound that washes over you. You want to soak it all in, every single second of it.

As the celebrations continue, you scan the crowd, your eyes searching for a familiar face. Max.

Max approaches you, his eyes wide with a mix of admiration and disbelief. He pulls you into a tight hug, his body trembling against yours.

“You were incredible,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Absolutely incredible.”

"It was a wild one," you say, still catching your breath. He pulls away slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, his eyes searching yours.

“You scared me, Y/N. That move was…insane.” There's a mixture of concern and affection in his expression.

“I had to,” you say, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips. “I wasn’t going to let you get away with it.”

“I know,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You never do.” He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours, the tension suddenly building between you in this very public space.

The air crackles with unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that draws you closer. The roar of the crowd recedes further, replaced by the roaring in your own ears. You want to kiss him so badly, to taste the victory on his lips and share this moment of triumph.

But you know, with a sharp pang of reality, that thousands of cameras are trained on you. The world is watching. Your private romance is anything but.

As if on cue, the team swarms around you, a joyous cacophony of cheers and backslaps.

They engulf you and Max, creating a human shield, obscuring you from prying eyes. It’s a coordinated effort, a protective circle forming around you two.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” they chant, their voices a chorus of encouragement. The sudden change is disorienting, the privacy you had for a moment now replaced with raucous enthusiasm.

Your heart hammers in your chest, a mixture of nerves and excitement flaring through you. You glance at Max, who is looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He raises an eyebrow, a silent question passing between you.

You take a deep breath, knowing he reads your every expression. The world might be watching, but the only opinion that matters right now is Max’s. You nod once, a small, decisive motion.

With a grin that could light up the entire paddock, he leans back in for what feels like the longest kiss of your life. There is no hesitation, no reservation as your lips finally meet. It tastes of victory and relief, the culmination of weeks of tension and pressure.

His hands move from your face to clutch the back of your neck, as if to pull you deeper. The kiss is everything you imagined, fierce and tender, a perfect blend.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless. The team is in uproar, cheering as if you’ve just won another race.

He nuzzles his face within the crook of your neck, his voice a low murmur, "Well, that was something."

You giggle, the tension finally starting to ease out of your body, "I think we just gave them a show."

"They've been wanting it for a while though," You can hear the grin in his voice.

The team started to separate, a sign that the interviewers would be waiting for you both. You subtly pulled away from Max, the silent agreement to continue with the charade still in place.

Nobody could know, not yet anyway. Max headed off first, giving you a small wink before disappearing into the waiting crowd. You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips.

He was such a tease.

Your time came soon after, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your fire suit and walked out into the fray.

The cameras flashed, the voices of the interviewers assaulted you, but you kept your smile plastered and your answers as vague as you could manage.

The interviewer, a woman with a microphone the size of your fist, was already beside you, her bright smile a stark contrast to the sweat clinging to your brow.

"Absolutely incredible race, you just won the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix," she began, her tone a blend of excitement and professional poise. "How does it feel to finish the season with such a monumental victory?"

You managed a grin, the corners of your mouth stretching tight with the effort. "Honestly," you breathed, your voice still raspy from exertion, "it feels incredible. It's been a short season for me yet a tough season, and to end it like this… it's just… wow."

“You seemed to really pull it through in the last part of the race, what was going through your mind when your closest competitor was right behind you?” she asked.

“I was just trying to stay focused, that’s all.” You responded, smiling.

The questions kept coming, but you were well versed in keeping the conversation on the racing and not on you.

You knew you couldn't slip, not out here, not yet.

"So has there been an official talk about next year? Will you be replacing Perez, or going to a different team?" the interviewer asked, a knowing grin plastered across his face.

You were waiting for this one, the inevitable question that skirted the edge of your secret.

"Yeah, there has been, but I'd rather not say until the announcement is made. Red Bull is my family after all," you stated, your tone light, casual, but your inner voice was screaming.

The truth was more intricate, more nuanced, than any simple team transfer. Your future wasn't just about a car or a team; it was inextricably linked to a man.

The interview moved on, finally deeming you squeezed dry of any revealing information.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you make your way to the cool down room. It's a sanctuary, a place where the pressure of the race can begin to dissipate before the long night of media duties and debriefing.

The door slides open, revealing Max and Charles already settled on the plush sofas, their eyes glued to the monitor on the wall. The race replay is unfolding, a ghost of the events that just transpired.

"There you are," Charles says, tilting his head in acknowledgment as you enter. He offers a small, genuine smile, one that reaches his eyes. "Congratulations, you were absolute dynamite out there."

"Thank you," you reply, settling onto the empty sofa opposite them. Your gaze slides towards Max. He's watching the screen intently, his jaw clenched slightly, a telltale sign of the intensity that still lingers.

You know him so well. You see the pride swimming beneath the surface, the subtle tightening of his shoulders. It’s a different kind of pride than if you were someone he saw as a rival.

It’s the pride of someone who loves you.

"Insane drive,” Max finally says, turning his attention to you, a genuine grin spreading across his face. “You were untouchable.”

"Thanks,” you say, your heart doing a little flip-flop at the way he's looking at you, a mix of admiration and something deeper, something only you would recognize.

It’s a look that makes the exhaustion start to fade, the adrenaline beginning to settle into a warm comfortable thrum. “It wasn’t easy though.”

The replay on the screen has reached the crucial point in the race, where you made that daring overtake, the move that sealed your victory.

Re-watching it now, it still takes your breath away, the sheer audacity of it all.

"That move," Charles murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief, "I still can't believe you pulled that off."

"Calculated risk," you say, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"You’re sure it wasn’t just blind luck?” Charles laughs, and you roll your eyes playfully. “It really was amazing though, you were on fire all weekend."

"Maybe both," you say, turning serious for a moment, “I’ve been working real hard this whole season to be able to do those kind of moves.”

Max shifts his position slightly, leaning back on the couch. His eyes meet yours once more, and a silent understanding passes between you.

In that brief, unspoken moment, you feel a wash of comfort, a sense of belonging that comes from sharing a secret with someone you love.

The knowledge that he sees you, truly sees you, is almost a greater reward than the victory itself.

The room settles into a comfortable quiet as the race unfolds on the screen, the commentary filling the space. The tension from the track begins to release, replaced by a quiet camaraderie.

You steal glances at Max, the easy familiarity between you like a warm blanket on a cold night. It’s always like this when the two of you are around Charles.

You’re both relaxed, and while you are not displaying it, there is a clear feeling of warmth between you. It’s the kind of relaxed feeling that you’re sure Charles can’t help but notice.

"So," Charles says, breaking the silence, his gaze moving between you and Max, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Big celebrations tonight? Champagne showers?"

You laugh, a genuine laugh that echoes in the quiet room, "Probably, if the team has anything to say about it."

Max snorts, a sound of quiet amusement, "They usually do."

"I know what I'm going to do," Charles continues, his eyes twinkling, "I'm going to party until tomorrow."

"I could say the same," you said. “We’ve got celebrate the whole night."

The end of the race replay starts to come to a close, and Max shifts his attention from the screen to you, his lips twitching into a teasing smile.

"So, who’s going to make the drinks for the post-race party tonight? Surely the race winner has to."

"I'm sure there's someone more talented than me in that department," you say, your eyes meeting his challenge, a playful energy dancing between you. "I’m sure that you will do a better job."

“Oh I’m sure I will,” Max says, standing up and offering you his hand to help you to your feet, “but the champion needs to practice being a gracious host.”

You accept his hand and let him pull you up, a smile playing on your lips. Your touch sent a rush of excitement through your body, a silent signal that always passed between the two of you.

The walk to the podium felt like wading through a dream. The air crackled with energy, a symphony of cheers, whistles, and camera flashes. You saw the podium ahead, three steps waiting for their occupants.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, building the anticipation. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! For third place, representing Ferrari, please welcome Charles Leclerc!”

The crowd erupted as Charles, with his signature charming grin, stepped onto the lowest tier. He waved to the masses, his eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and good-natured defeat.

Then, it was Max’s turn. “In second place, representing Red Bull Racing, your champion, the one and only Max Verstappen!” The roar intensified, a wave of orange crashing through the air. Max, ever stoic, offered a small nod of acknowledgment before taking his place.

He caught your eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, and gave you a quick wink. Your heart skipped a beat.

Finally, the announcer's voice reached its crescendo, "And now, for the winner of the final race in first place… Y/N L/N!!" You could barely hear your name being yelled over the collective scream of joy.

You felt a surge of adrenaline, a second wind fueled by the sheer adoration of the crowd. You took a deep breath, a smile stretching across your face, and stepped onto the top step of the podium.

The bright lights felt hot against your skin, but you barely noticed. You raised your arms in victory, taking in the magnificent sight of thousands of people cheering for you. It truly was magic. The national anthem started and you felt a beautiful sense of pride fill your heart. 

The champagne bottles were popped, and the podium was engulfed in a spray of bubbly liquid. You laughed, brushing the droplets from your hair, your eyes meeting Max’s across the small space.

After what felt like an eternity, the podium celebrations came to an end. You were being ushered towards the press area when you felt a hand grasp your arm.

You turned to see Max, his eyes a mix of impatience and amusement.

“Meet me in my room later,” he whispered, his voice low.

You nodded, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. “I’ll be there,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The rest of the evening was a blur of questions, flashing cameras, and polite smiles. You answered the questions with practiced ease, your mind drifting back to the quiet intensity in Max’s eyes.

The constant chatter of journalists faded into background noise as you yearned for the peace of your garage and the promise of Max’s company.

Finally, the interviews were over. You could feel the exhaustion pulling you down, but a surge of anticipation kept you moving. You quickly made your way back to the garage, the place where you felt most at peace when you weren’t on the racetrack.

You found the door slightly ajar and with a gentle push, you entered the dimly lit space.

He sat on the small, worn sofa, his head tilted back against the cushion, eyes closed. You paused just inside the doorway, watching him. He looked relaxed, the tension that always seemed to coil within him seemingly absent.

He looked, in that moment, utterly vulnerable.

You cleared your throat softly, and his eyes snapped open, focusing on you with an intensity that always managed to make your breath catch.

"You're here," he said, his voice a low murmur, a hint of relief coloring his words. He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners.

You walked towards him, the silence between you comfortable and intimate. You sat down beside him on the sofa, the worn leather yielding to your weight.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, content in the quiet intimacy of the space.

Then, Max reached out, his fingers brushing against your hand, sending another warm shiver through you. He laced his fingers with yours, the contact both grounding and electrifying.

“You were incredible out there today,” he said, his gaze locked on your eyes, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

A flush of pleasure warmed your cheeks. "So were you," you countered, a smile playing on your lips. "You were pushing hard."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that always made your heart skip a beat. "Someone had to try and keep it interesting," he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief. “But you stole the show, as usual.”

You glanced down at your interlocked hands, a surge of emotion flooding your chest. Despite the public persona, the competitive edge, there was a tenderness in him, a vulnerability that only you seemed to see.

It was a side of him that you cherished, that you protected fiercely.

He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear again, just like it had been before the interviews.

“I have to admit,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine, “I’m really glad you won today. It means I finally get you all to myself. No more cameras or journalists.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, the warmth spreading through your entire body. He could always make you feel this way, with just a few softly spoken words.

You leaned in closer, mirroring his movement. “You know, it’s funny,” you said, your voice barely a breath. “I thought I was coming here to celebrate the win. But all I really wanted, was just to be here with you.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “You mean that?” he asked softly, the playful teasing gone.

You nodded, the honesty in your heart plain for him to see. “Always.”

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer until your head was resting against his shoulder. The comfortable silence descended once more, this time even more intimate than before.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

A small, almost hesitant smile touched his lips, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a touch so tender it sent a jolt of warmth through you.

He kissed the top of your head, his touch feather-light, and a small contented sigh escaped your lips.

“God, I’ve missed this,” you murmured into his shoulder, the tension finally leaving your body.

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated against you. "Missed what?" he teased, his voice a smooth caress.

You pressed closer to him, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his neck. "This," you whispered, "just... this."

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer until your head was resting against his shoulder. The comfortable silence descended once more, this time even more intimate than before.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, grounding you, reminding you that you were real, that this was real.

He pressed a small kiss to the top of your hair before shifting slightly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You could feel his shy smile curve against your neck as he peppered small kisses there, each one sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. You turned your head slightly, offering him more access to your damp skin.

The shyness in his touch was endearing, a stark contrast to the confident racer the world saw. It was this side of him, only for you, that made your heart swell.

"We're going to party so hard," Max muttered, his voice a low purr against your skin. "We deserve it."

You chuckled softly, the sound muffled against his neck. “We absolutely do," you agreed. "I think I can finally feel all the tension leaving my body. I was so nervous before the race, I was practically buzzing.”

The roar of the crowd was still a tangible thing, vibrating under your skin and making your heart thump like a hummingbird's wings. The confetti, a glittering storm of victory, tickled your face.

You held the trophy aloft, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of the moment, the weight a solid reassurance of the triumph you had just achieved.

"3.. 2.. 1..!" the team admin's voice boomed, cutting through the din. Then, the collective roar, a joyous, guttural yell that vibrated in your bones.

Champagne erupted, the sweet, sharp tang filling the air, soaking into your racing suit, adding another layer of sensation to the already overwhelming experience.

Max, standing beside you, mirrored your pose, his own trophy gleaming under the stadium lights. He caught your eye, a familiar warmth flickering in his gaze before he offered a wide, celebratory grin to the cameras.

You both knew the drill. Hold the trophies high, look ecstatic, spray the champagne, and be the perfect picture of sporting camaraderie.

The flash of cameras punctuated the moment, capturing the manufactured joy. Smiling until your cheeks ached, you followed Max’s lead, swigging from the bottle and spraying the effervescent liquid with abandon.

Later, the team announced the location for the after-party. Not the usual quiet bar, but a nightclub big enough to hold the entire grid. A place that promised a night of uninhibited celebration.

A genuine space for everyone to let loose.

As exciting as the prospect was, you found yourself craving a moment of quiet before the storm. You caught Max's eye across the throng, a silent understanding passing between you.

He offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, a promise of sanctuary. You both made your excuses to the team, promising to meet them at the club later.

The short drive back to the hotel was filled with a comfortable silence, the earlier adrenaline slowly giving way to a calm satisfaction. In your shared room, the relief was palpable.

You kicked off your shoes, your clothes feeling suddenly cumbersome.

"That was… something," you said, your voice husky.

Max chuckled, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “Something is an understatement. You were incredible.”

His eyes, so often serious and focused on the track, held a warmth that always made your stomach flip. “But yeah, shower?”

“Definitely shower,” you agreed, already peeling off your clothes.

The hot water was a balm to your tired muscles, washing away the grime and stress of the race. As you stood under the cascading water, you couldn't help but smile.

You’d won, you’d done it, and you had him, waiting for you on the other side.

When you finally emerged, a towel wrapped around you, Max was dressed, looking utterly devastating in a simple black top and trousers. His hair, still damp from his own shower, was styled just so.

And then, the detail that made your heart skip a beat - a silver chain nestled against his collarbone.

"Wow," you breathed, unable to stop staring. "The chain. You actually wore it."

He smirked, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "After some serious persuasion," he admitted, a playful edge to his voice. "You look good, too," he added, his gaze lingering on you.

"I figured it was only fair," you said, heading to your suitcase and pulling out an identical black dress, pairing it with tailored black heels.

Max watched you as you changed, a silent appreciation in his gaze that made you blush. Getting dressed was always easier when he was in front of you, admiring you openly.

You had fallen for him hard, and the private world you shared, hidden from the prying eyes of the racing world, made your love feel all the more precious.

Downstairs, Max's car was already waiting. The short drive to the club was filled with a sweet anticipation. The bass from the music vibrated through the car, a promise of the chaos to come, but also a reminder of the secret you both shared.

The nightclub was even more enormous than you’d imagined, pulsating with strobe lights and the throb of electronic music. The air crackled with energy as drivers, team personnel, and their plus-ones mingled on the dance floor.

You spotted your friends already in the thick of the party, their faces flushed with excitement.

Max took your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur against the noise of the club.

You squeezed his hand. "As I'll ever be," you said, a thrill coursing through you.

The night unravelled in a blur of music, laughter, and celebration. You danced with your teammates, you toasted with the other drivers, but always, your eyes sought out Max.

His presence was a constant anchor amidst the chaos. You occasionally met his gaze, a shared smile, a silent communication that spoke volumes.

You were laughing at something Sarah had said, her arm slung on your arm, when suddenly you felt a familiar heat against your back.

Max’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The soft press of his chest against your back sent a jolt through you, a spark that had nothing to do with the strobe lights.

“You know you can drink as much as you want, it’s your party and I’m driving,” he murmured into your ear, his breath sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. “Are you sure you can handle me?” you teased, turning to face him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief under the club lights. “I’m pretty sure I can handle anything you throw at me.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Especially a race winner who’s celebrating a season well-won.”

You could feel your cheeks flush. Even after months of stolen moments, his gaze still had the ability to make your heart race.

You leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his arms around you as he talked to some people from his team. You knew he was the leader, the one everyone looked to.

He was charismatic, a natural in front of the camera, but here, in the soft light of this lounge, you saw a different man.

A man who was quieter, more thoughtful, more…yours.

"Hey, you," a voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see Sarah, her bright pink dress a stark contrast to Max’s dark suit.

She was already holding a bottle of champagne, and you knew that look in her eyes – it was a look that promised a night of unadulterated fun. "You just made history! We need to celebrate properly."

You laughed, "Sarah, I think I've had enough champagne to last me a lifetime."

"Nonsense," she scoffed, already popping the cork. "Tonight, we drink like champions! And I have a feeling you're not going to be the only ones celebrating, there is a certain someone celebrating on the sidelines." She threw a playful glance at Max, who chuckled.

"Go on," Max murmured, leaning against the lounge’s velvet wall, "Have some fun. I'll be here." He winked, that flash of playful mischief again.

You knew he wasn't genuinely worried, he knew how close you and Sarah were. He also knew how much you deserved to let loose after the pressure of the season.

You allowed yourself to be pulled away by Sarah, laughing as she poured you another glass. "To the future legend," she declared, clinking her glass against yours. "And to finally kicking that season into the dust."

The rest of the night was a blur. You drank, you danced, you laughed until your sides ached. You and Sarah traded recent stories, some old, some new, some best left untold. You talked about the season, your favorite moments, the times you almost gave up.

Hours later, the room had thinned out. You were sitting on a plush velvet sofa, your head resting on Sarah's shoulder, both of you giggling over some ridiculous inside joke.

You were definitely drunk, your thoughts a little fuzzy, your speech a little slurred.

"You are the best," you mumbled, nuzzling closer to Sarah. "Best friend ever."

"And you are the best driver, ever," she replied, squeezing your hand. "You deserve all of this."

A shadow fell over you. You looked up and saw Max, his expression a mixture of amusement and mild concern. “Okay, ladies, I think it's time to wrap it up. You’ve both had enough excitement for one night."

You blinked up at him, your vision a little blurry. "But…but we were having fun," you protested, your words slurring.

He chuckled, kneeling down beside you. "I know, schat, but tomorrow is going to be a long day. Remember how bad your hangover gets?".

“Oh, right,” you mumbled.

"Come here," Max said softly, helping you to your feet. His touch was gentle, steady, a stark contrast to the chaos that had begun to swirl in your head.

Sarah was grinning, a knowing look in her eyes. "Alright, love birds," she teased, "I think I'm going to grab a taxi home. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you," you mumbled, leaning heavily on Max.

He nodded at Sarah, then guided you out of the lounge and towards the back exit. Your head was spinning, the alcohol making the world tilt precariously.

But when Max's arms were around you, you felt a sense of calm settle in your chest.

As you stumbled into the cool night air, you felt his hand slip into yours. You squeezed it tightly, grateful for the warmth and the strength he exuded.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yeah," you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Just a little…fuzzy."

He chuckled, pulling you closer. "I figured. You and Sarah were having quite the party."

"She's the best," you said, a small smile playing on your lips. "You know, she’s like...my sister."

"I know," he replied softly. "And I'm glad you have her."

The silence that followed was comfortable, the quiet hum of the city surrounding you. You walked hand in hand to his car, the cool night air slowly beginning to clear your head.

Once inside the car, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminated his face. You looked at him, really looked at him, and a wave of affection washed over you.

Even after all the champagne, all the laughter, all the chaos, he was still the most beautiful person you had ever known.

“Thank you, Max,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “For…for everything.”

He smiled, a soft, gentle smile that melted your heart. “You don't have to thank me. You earned this. All of it.”

He started the car, and as it rolled out of the parking lot, you leaned back against the headrest, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. The city lights blurred into a vibrant streak of colors as he drove.

You knew in that moment, as Max drove you home, that the victory was so much more than a trophy, it was the moment you knew you had someone who would always be there to celebrate the highs and navigate you through the lows.

He led you towards a small, unmarked door, the entrance to a private elevator used for discreet entrances. Inside, the metal walls reflected your image back at you: flushed cheeks, bright eyes, a victorious but tired smile.

But it was Max who held your attention. He stood beside you, his presence filling the small space. He was too damn hot. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins. But it now mixed with a different kind of energy, a desire that was making your face flush with heat.

You could feel your body temperature rising, a warm sensation spreading from your chest to your face and beyond.

You stared at him, your heart hammering against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed the earlier roar of the race.

He shifted slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you knew he felt it too—the silent tension that crackled between you.

“You’re staring,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

“Am I?” You asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out breathy.

He took a step closer, his body almost touching yours. “Yes. Like you want to eat me.” His eyes held a playful glint, but there was something else there too, something hungry.

“Maybe a little," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. You felt your cheeks burn redder. “You’re just…well, you’re very distracting right now.”

He grinned, a slow, sensual smile that sent another wave of heat through you. “Distracting? Is that a problem?”

“It could be,” you said, your gaze dropping to his lips, imagining the feeling of him kissing you.

The elevator doors slid open, and for a brief moment, you forgot where you were. It was just you and him, two hearts beating in time, wanting so much more.

He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Let’s not worry about it here,” he whispered, pulling you out of the elevator and into the dim hallway. “There are better places to be distracted.”

He led you towards the suite, the luxurious space a far cry from the sterile atmosphere of the paddock. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamps creating a sensual ambiance.

He closed the door behind you, the soft click sounding like a promise.

The weight of secrecy lifts subtly, a permission granted to be solely yourselves. You turn to face him, your heart hammering in your chest, his eyes are dark, pupils dilated, mirroring the intensity you’re feeling.

He steps closer, his body heat radiating towards you, and the tension in the air thickens like honey.

“You were incredible today,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “Absolutely incredible.”

"So were you," you admit, your voice barely a whisper, though you know he didn't place as high as you.

The humility in his eyes when he came to congratulate you was endearing, your victory was as much his as it was yours.

He leans in, his eyes locking onto yours, and your breath hitches in your throat. It's not just the victory, or the adrenaline, it’s the pull, the magnetic force between you that has always been there, simmering beneath the surface of stolen glances and whispered conversations, now unleashed.

His lips brush against yours, a featherlight touch that makes you tremble, and then they are on yours, a heated claim, a silent demand for more.

The kiss isn't gentle – it's urgent, hungry, fueled by the pent-up desire you’ve both held captive for too long. Your hands find their way into his soft hair, tugging gently as you deepen the kiss, not caring about being careful.

You can taste the champagne on his tongue, the lingering sweetness mixing with the heat of your passion. His hands roam, finding the bare skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine as they trace the curves of your body.

He nibbles on your lower lip, a playful bite that makes you moan, and the sound is like music to his ears, a melody that only he is privy to within the four walls of this room.

There is a heavy breathing against your neck and you match him in rhythm.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes filled with a desire that ignites a fire within you. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he murmurs, his voice husky with want.

“Me too,” you admit, the words a breathless sigh against his lips.

He moves then, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. The wall, cold against your back, makes the heat of his body feel even more intense.

He braces his arm above your head, trapping you with his gaze, his eyes dark and intense. You tangle your fingers in his hair again, pulling him closer for another heated kiss.

He tugs at your dress, his touch sending sparks along your skin, and you reciprocate, your fingers finding the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head. He breaks the kiss and begins kissing down your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Your head falls back against the wall and you gasp quietly as his hands explore your body, mapping the curves and valleys of your skin with a practiced intimacy.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his breath tickling your ear, his hands leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You’ve seen him at his worst, sweat-soaked and frustrated after a bad race, and at his best, confident and triumphant. But here, in the privacy of this room, he’s simply Max – yours.

He pulls away just enough so he can look at you. His eyes roam your face, taking you in, and there’s a raw hunger in his gaze. He leans back in, his body pressing against yours.

His legs went between yours and you moaned, the sound catching in your throat.

“Max,” you whisper, your voice husky and low, your hands reaching for him, pulling him closer to the wanting ache that had been begging for release ever since the race had ended.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your nails scoring the skin. “Please,” you beg, needing his touch, craving the shared release that only came when you were both wrapped up in each other.

He hesitated, his body still as he moved his hands down, cupping your face between them. “You’re drunk,” he says, his voice a low rumble. It’s not a question, but an observation, a gentle reminder that you’re not entirely in control right now.

The words break through the fog of champagne and adrenaline a little, and you realize he's right. You were a little tipsy, the victory buzz mixing with the after-party atmosphere had left you wanting, but hazy.

You reach up, your hands capturing his against your face. “I am,” you admit, your fingertips tracing the lines of his face, the roughness of his stubble. “But I still want you. So much.”

The intensity in his gaze deepens, and for a moment, it's almost frightening. He wanted this too, you could feel it in every fiber of his being. He steps back, his hands releasing your face, his eyes now searching.

“We can’t,” he stated, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You are still drunk and I want you to be sober when we do it.”

“Please,” you repeated shamelessly, your leg moving instinctively, humping against his. The brazenness you wouldn’t usually allow yourself felt entirely natural in this moment.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Don't worry schat," Max muttered, his eyes sparkling with that familiar glint, "I can please you in other ways."

With surprising ease, he scooped you up in his arms, his strength a comforting reassurance. You let out a small yelp of surprise, but quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face against his warm skin, inhaling the scent of him.

The room spun for a moment, but with Max holding you tightly, you felt grounded, safe. . . .

The harsh, fluorescent light of your bathroom felt particularly cruel this morning, mocking the throbbing in your skull. Last night’s celebratory party – or, more accurately, the aftermath of that party – was a monster you were still wrestling with. You squinted at your reflection; dark circles underscored your eyes, your hair was a tangled mess, and the faint smell of stale champagne clung to you like a persistent ex. Today was the day. The day you found out if you'd be back for another season on the racing circuit. The weight of it settled in your stomach, heavy and cold, a stark contrast to the residual warmth from the alcohol.

And then there was Max.

He was currently draped over you like a particularly affectionate koala, his arm a dead weight across your back as you tried, and failed, to tame your unruly hair. “Don’t go,” he mumbled into your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “Stay here.”

You sighed, a sound that was half-exasperation, half-affection. “Max,” you said, your voice still rough from sleep, “I have to, you know, function. Or at least try to.”

He shifted, nuzzling his face further into your neck, his grip tightening. “But you smell so good,” he purred, his voice thick with a morning-after huskiness that always made your heart do a little flip. “And you’re warm.”

“You smell like a brewery and I’m probably radiating regret,” you retorted, finally managing to wrestle yourself free enough to reach for your toothbrush. You squeezed a generous dollop of toothpaste onto the bristles. “Besides, I have an appointment.”

"Oh," he said, his earlier playfulness dissipating, replaced by a hint of anxiety. "The... the thing?"

You nodded, your mouth full of toothpaste. The ‘thing’ was the dreaded meeting with team management. It wasn't just a formality; it was the culmination of your season, the final judgment on whether they saw potential in you, or if your time with the team was over.

You rinsed your mouth and turned back to face him, leaning against the sink. He looked like a lost puppy, his usually vibrant blue eyes clouded with concern. "It'll be okay, Max. Either way, it'll be over."

He frowned, pushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. "But... you're amazing, you know? You're the best. They'd be stupid not to keep you."

You knew he meant it, his unwavering belief in your talent always a comforting constant in your life. It was one of the reasons why you'd fallen so hard for him, the hidden depths behind his public persona. “You’re biased,” you said, managing a small smile. "And thank you. For everything."

He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you, his touch reassuring. "I just... I don't want to see you upset. Not today."

You rested your head against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent of engine oil and a hint of expensive cologne. It was a comforting chaos, a reminder of the world you both occupied, a world of adrenaline and speed and relentless competition.

"Then wish me luck," you murmured, pulling away. "And maybe make some coffee while I get dressed?"

He grinned, the anxiety momentarily banished. "Coffee? Coming right up. Anything for the best damn driver I know."

The drive to the team headquarters felt like entering a pressure cooker. Every street sign, every red light, felt like a countdown, each second ticking away towards either elation or heartbreak.

You parked the car, the engine ticking in protest as it cooled. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your clothes, trying to project an air of calm you didn’t feel. You walked through the familiar halls of the headquarters, the silence amplifying the nervous flutter in your stomach. Each step felt heavier than the last.

You reached the conference room, the door standing ominously closed. You paused, your hand hovering over the handle. There was no going back now. Taking another deep breath, you turned the handle and went in.

Helmut Marko was already seated at the long table, his expression unreadable. You sat down, your back ramrod straight, trying not to fidget. He offered a curt nod, his eyes, however, didn't meet yours.

“So,” he began, his voice devoid of any warmth. “Let’s get straight to it.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

He spent the next twenty minutes discussing your performance throughout the season. He highlighted your strengths, acknowledged your weaknesses, and spoke in a monotone that offered no hint of his final verdict. He referenced stats and figures, each word further tightening the knot in your stomach. You listened, nodding occasionally, your mind racing, trying to decipher his cryptic language.

Finally, he stopped, the silence that followed almost deafening. He looked at you, a flicker of something unidentifiable in his eyes. “So, here it is.”

You held your breath, your heart thudding in your ears.

"We have decided... to offer you a seat for next season."

The relief that washed over you was so intense, it almost made your knees buckle. You let out a breath, a quiet, almost disbelieving sound. “Really?” you managed to say, your voice a little shaky.

He nodded, a rare, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Your potential is undeniable. There are things to work on, but we believe you have what it takes.”

You felt a grin spread across your face, a genuine, unadulterated smile of pure joy. “Thank you,” you said, your voice overflowing with gratitude. “Thank you so much.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur of contract details and future plans. You nodded, agreed, and signed, your mind still reeling with the good news. You practically floated out of the room, the weight that had burdened you for so long finally lifted.

You pulled out your phone, your fingers trembling as you typed a message to Max. "I got it!"

His reply was instantaneous. “Finally! You had me worried. I’m buying you pizza to celebrate tonight!”

And just like that, the world seemed brighter, the hangover a distant memory. You made your way back to the car, a smile playing on your lips, the prospect of seeing Max again filling you with a warmth that had nothing to do with celebratory drinks and everything to do with love. You couldn't wait.

The soft glow of dawn hadn't quite conquered the darkness yet, but it was enough to paint the room in a gentle, hazy light. You stirred, a slow, languid stretch rippling through your body. A warm weight pressed against your back, a familiar comfort. Max.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, the gentle heat emanating from his body, and it was the most perfect thing to wake up to on Christmas morning.

You turned carefully, mindful not to disturb him, and faced the man whose presence had transformed your life in the most wonderful way. His dark hair was tousled against the pillow, a stray strand falling across his forehead. His face, usually animated with laughter, was placid in sleep, a peacefulness that tugged at your heart. He looked younger, somehow, more vulnerable, and you couldn't resist the urge to reach out and trace the line of his jaw with your fingers.

Your touch must have been more than the softest feather, because his eyelids fluttered open, revealing sleep-hazed brown eyes. He looked at you, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a sleepy smile that made your stomach flip.

"Merry Christmas," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Merry Christmas," you whispered back, your voice equally soft, "Did I wake you?"

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours, "Just the perfect way to wake up." He reached for you, pulling you closer, and you settled against him with a contented sigh.

"We should probably get up," you said after a moment, even though all you really wanted to do was stay tangled in his arms forever, "Presents, remember?"

"Presents can wait," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, full of warmth and affection, a silent promise of all the love you shared. You kissed him back, your hands cupping his face, savoring the moment, the feeling of his lips on yours.

When you finally broke apart, you were both slightly breathless. You managed a small laugh, a nervous flutter in your chest. "Okay, presents it is then." You reluctantly pulled away, the cool air hitting your bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you’d just known in his embrace.

You both padded barefoot into the hallway, the scent of pine needles and cinnamon from the Christmas tree in the living room filling the air. It was the first Christmas in your shared home, a landmark you’d both been looking forward to with a mixture of giddy excitement and nervous apprehension. Would it be as magical as you’d both hoped? So far, it was proving to be even more enchanting.

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, its branches laden with shimmering ornaments, each one a tiny reflection of the light, and of the love you’d built together. There was a small pile of beautifully wrapped presents under the tree, each carefully chosen and thoughtfully placed.

You both stood there for a moment, just taking it in, the magic of the day settling around you like a warm blanket.

"This is...perfect," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Max slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side, "It is, isn't it?" he said, his voice full of tenderness.

You both sat down on the rug, your legs touching, the warmth of his body a comforting anchor. You began to carefully unwrap the presents, each one a small gesture of love and understanding. He gave you a soft, cashmere scarf in your favorite shade of blue, a leather-bound journal with a quote from your favorite author engraved on the first page, and a delicate necklace with a tiny silver charm of a star.

You, in return, gifted him a vintage record player he’d always talked about wanting, several new records by his favorite artists, and a handmade, knitted beanie in his favorite colour. You'd spent hours carefully making it, a labor of love that you'd hoped he would appreciate.

He pulled it out of the box, his eyes widening as he instantly recognised what it was. "You actually knitted this?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and delight.

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips, "I did. I hope you like it."

He pulled you closer and kissed you again, a long, lingering kiss that spoke more than words ever could, "Like it? I absolutely love it. Thank you," he whispered. You snuggled into his arms, a sense of contentment washing over you.

"I'm starving," Max said after a few minutes, pulling away and ruffling your hair playfully. "What do you say we actually make some breakfast instead of only giving gifts?"

"Sounds perfect," you replied, getting to your feet. You followed him into the kitchen, the familiar sounds of clanging pans and sizzling bacon filling the air.

While he cooked, you poured the orange juice, the two of you working side by side, a comfortable rhythm developing between you. You felt a sense of belonging, of home, in this shared space, in this shared life.

As you ate breakfast, the morning light streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. You looked at Max across the table, his face lit up by that signature smile, and you felt a rush of love so deep it almost took your breath away.

"This is the best Christmas," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you, his eyes twinkling with happiness.

"It is," he echoed, reaching across the table for your hand, his fingers lacing through yours, "And it's just the beginning."

You squeezed his hand, his words sending a shiver of excitement through you. You knew that this was just the start of your journey together, a journey filled with love, laughter, and the soft comfort of shared moments like this.

This first Christmas with Max, in your shared home, was a beautiful promise of the magic to come. And you knew, without a doubt, that you were exactly where you were meant to be. . . .

maxverstappen1 just posted.

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maxverstappen1 It's been a year, a full revolution around the sun, since I first fell head over heels for you. A year of laughter, whispered secrets, and building a world together, a world that feels so uniquely ours. And yet, despite this beautiful year, there's still one mystery that eludes me: what exactly is a "hard launch?" Happy birthday, schat. Thinking back to this day last year, it makes my heart swell to remember I was so bold as to ask if I could be yours. To be invited into your amazing world, to share life with such a remarkable woman – that's been the greatest gift. Happy birthday again, and yes, for those who might be wondering, I am dating Y/N, and she's everything I had never imagined wanting and so much more.

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yourusername just posted.

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yourusername Another year older, and this one feels extra special! It's my birthday, and I'm beyond lucky to be celebrating it alongside our first anniversary. Max, this past year with you has been more incredible than I could have ever dreamed. Every moment, every laugh, every shared experience has meant the world to me. You make life an adventure, and I’ve loved every second of it. Feeling so grateful for today and for you. Here's to many more birthdays and anniversaries together! 💙

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[orchidniins]

Serendipitous Beginnings Pt. 1 | Arthur Frederick

Summary: Y/N moves to London to pursue her dreams and reconnect with her best friend But what she doesn't expect is a cute neighbor and a new exciting chapter of her life. Pairings: ArthurTV x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 6.4k A/N: FIRST FIC!!!!!! I’m so down bad for Arthur and just wish there was more on tumblr about this literal walking green flag of a man. I wanted this to be a cute little fic. But I feel like I got a little carried away with the story. But I also think that I need to start somewhere. Maybe the next fics I write after this will be a little more to the point. The more I write, the better I’ll get. I'm always open to suggestions and requests. Hope you enjoy!!

Masterlist ⟡ Part 2

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The bustling streets of London welcome you as you step out of the taxi. Having grown up in a small town just outside of London, you’d always fantasized about what life in the big city was like. Sure, your past academic pursuits had given you the opportunity to live all across the world, but London was always the ultimate destination - the place you dreamed of settling down in.

Securing a spot in the archeology PHD program of your dreams was the culmination of years of hardwork and determination. Those late-night study sessions, caffeine-fueled cramming marathons and years spent away from home were finally paying off. It marked the beginning of an exciting new chapter.

Like clockwork, Sienna bursts out of the main entrance of the building and engulfs you in a bone-crushing hug.

Sienna and you went way back. From the eager little girl who lived next door to becoming your closest confidante, she’d been through everything with you. Despite the miles between you over the years – ever since you left for the States to pursue your bachelor's degree and she moved to London for her’s – she remained one of the few constants in your life.

Your day wasn’t complete without a minimum three-hour facetime session. So naturally, after your family, she was the first person you informed of your move. True to form, she’d already cleaned out her spare bedroom and sent you a photo of the door adorned with a makeshift sign that read "Y/N’s Bedroom." It was safe to say that you were excited to reconnect with your childhood best friend and focus on your work. Little did you know, your life was about to take an unexpected turn.

“I can’t believe you're finally here!”, Sienna exclaimed, finally letting you out of her embrace. “I can’t believe it either! I’d started to believe that you only existed on my phone screen”, you replied, pulling her into another hug, which she gladly returned.

“Come on now, we have much to catch up on”, pulling out of the embrace, Sienna grabs one of your oversized suitcases and starts lugging it into the building, you follow closely with a huge grin on your face.

As you entered the apartment, you couldn't help but admire the cozy atmosphere. Sienna always had an eclectic taste, much like yours. She was a bit of a collector and she always made sure to keep and display the souvenirs you sent her from all the museums and dig sites that you had visited and worked at.

You look to the side of the living room that was littered with boxes, “All your stuff got here a few days ago”, Sienna informs you as she shuts the door behind her.

“There should be one or two boxes coming in today that I shipped out a little later”, I mentioned, Sienna nods in understanding. “While we’re on the topic of shipping boxes, have you had a chance to send that cretin’s stuff back to him?” you ask her as you kick off your shoes and take your coat off.

“Ugh, I don’t want to talk about Joey,” Sienna groaned. “He said he’d come by to pick his stuff up later, so I’ve just left a box by the door”, she added, plopping down on the couch and signaling for you to join her. ”But what I really want to know is, how’s your love life? What happened to that guy you were talking to last month? The one from your internship?”, she asks, a curious glint in her eyes.

“Hmmm, yeah, things didn’t work out”, you drawled out. “He was really nice when it was just the two of us, and he wasn’t too bad in bed either, but once we were at our work, things got weird. He’d treat me completely different. Honestly he was a real prick," you explained, throwing an arm around her. "No more guys for me. I guess it’s just you and me, babe," you sighed, earning a laugh from her.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next hour or two passed in unpacking and catching up when you received a notification on your phone saying a package had been dropped off at the downstairs lobby. "The rest of my stuff just got delivered. I’m heading downstairs," you announced to Sienna, who had just ventured into the kitchen to get dinner started.

You spot the box as soon as you exit the elevator. You sign for the package at the front desk and pick up the heavy box. Perhaps thinking you could manage a nearly 40kg box full of books by yourself wasn’t the best idea after all.

Lost in the effort of balancing the hefty box, you were completely oblivious to your surroundings. As soon as you turn to head towards the elevator, you feel yourself colliding with what felt like someone's side, causing you to stumble back a step. The impact was enough to make you wince, but that was the least of your worries.

With a dreadful realization, you watch in horror as the bottom of the box gives way, sending a cascade of books tumbling onto the stranger's feet.

“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry,” you begin to profusely apologize to the man in front of you who is now bent over, clutching his ankle. Quickly chucking the box to the side, you kneel down to inspect his foot. ”Please tell me you’re okay. I’m so sorry. I should have been paying attention,” you continue your string of apologies, hoping that the man wasn’t hurt too badly.

The man winces slightly as you examine his foot, but instantly looks down at you with a reassuring smile. "Hey, don't worry about it. I'm okay, really," he tries to assure you, trying to alleviate your guilt. His smile catches you off guard, you stay frozen for a second, momentarily captivated by his warm smile and almost sparkling brown eyes. However, you quickly shake yourself out of it, realizing that this might not be the best time.

"Liar," you retorted with a hint of skepticism, knowing very well that anyone in their right mind would have cursed you out by now.

The man furrows his eyebrows and lets out a light chuckle. "No, really, I'm okay," he insists, standing up straight to show you that he was fine. You couldn't help but exhale a sigh of relief as you fully stood up as well, grateful that your clumsiness hadn't caused any serious harm.

With a slight laugh, the man gestures towards the pile of books on the ground. "Either you have a shopping problem or you just moved in," he remarks, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laugh in response, shaking your head. "I do have a shopping problem, but this is from just having moved in. My fault for thinking I'd be able to manage," you admit sheepishly.

You bend down to reach for the box to put it back together. You're surprised when the man gets down to your level and starts helping you out.

Mumbling a small thanks, you both begin placing the books back into the reassembled box. As you do this, you take a moment to observe his face. He looks to be around your age, with messy brown hair, and honestly, he was kind of cute.

The man picks up a book titled "A History of Archaeological Thought" and reads the title out in interest, quickly flipping through the pages. “I've actually read this one," he remarks, holding up one of your books on ancient roman archeology "Found it quite interesting."

You look at him slightly surprised and say, "Oh, you have? One of my professors from uni recommended it to me. It's really fascinating."

"These are all archaeology and history textbooks," he observes, gesturing to the pile of books.

You put the last book in the box and stand up along with him, laughing slightly. "Haha, yes, some of them are old textbooks from university. The rest are just stuff I've collected over the years."

He looks at you in awe and exclaims, "You're an archaeologist? That's so cool! I've never met an archaeologist before." The sparkle in his eyes returns, and you almost feel yourself slightly melt at the sight of them. You find yourself flashing him a wide smile. There's something about the genuine curiosity and admiration in his gaze that warms your heart.

Before you can say something, your phone rings. Excusing yourself for a moment, you check your phone and see that Sienna is calling, likely worried by how long it's taken you to pick up a delivery. "Sorry, just a minute," you say to the man, turning to the side to answer your cell. He nods in understanding.

"Hey, Sienna," you answer.

"Girl, what happened? Where are you?" Sienna's voice comes through, concerned.

"Long story, but I'll be up in a minute," you assure her.

"Please, come quick. Joey just texted me; he said he'll be here in like 5 minutes to pick up his stuff and I really don't want to be alone when he gets here," Sienna explains anxiously.

"Ok, yeah, I’ll be right up" you respond, sensing the urgency in her voice.

You hang up the call, tucking your phone quickly into your back pocket, you turn back to the handsome stranger. "Sorry about that, but I actually need to go," you apologize, feeling a twinge of disappointment that your conversation was just cut short.

"Ha, don't worry about it," he reassures you with a warm smile.

You apologize again for his foot and thank him for the help. As you go to bend down to pick up the box, he beats you to it, lifting it effortlessly. "Oh, you don't have to," you insist, but he shakes his head with a small laugh.

"Don't want to risk you possibly injuring someone else," he quips playfully.

You look at him with mock hurt and reply, "Rude!" before bursting into laughter, appreciating his kindness despite what had just happened.

As he begins to walk towards the elevator, you follow suit. You suddenly realize just how warm your cheeks had gotten and you quickly fan your face to cool down before you enter the elevator. Once inside, you press the button for your floor and glance around awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. The tension is palpable, but there's also a subtle excitement lingering in the air.

Arriving at your floor, you lead the way to your new flat, with him following without hesitation. Standing outside your door, you turn to him and say, "Well, this is me. Thanks again, you really didn't have to."

He responds with a gentle smile, "Again, it wasn't a bother. I'm glad to help." He sets the box down next to your door.

You stand in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say next when it suddenly dawns on you that you didn’t know the man’s name. Just as you’re about to introduce yourself, your attention is abruptly pulled away by the sound of your name being called from a distance.

"Y/N!" You spot Sienna's nightmare of an ex strolling towards your door, and you know that if you don't go inside right away, Sienna would probably kill you.

Quickly moving to unlock your door, you turn around to the attractive man and flash him a final smile. "Well, I appreciate the help. I'll see you around," you say hastily.

"Goodbye," He replies with a nod, understanding the urgency in your departure.

With that, you pick up the box and swiftly slip into your door, the sound of it shutting behind you signaling the end of your unexpected encounter.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

A week had passed since your fateful encounter with your charming neighbor, yet his presence continued lingering in your mind, a constant reminder of your missed opportunity to exchange names. Mentally scolding yourself for the oversight, you couldn't help but replay the encounter in your head repeatedly, wishing you had seized the chance to learn more about him.

The past week kept you fairly busy, preparing for the start of term on Monday. Despite that, the thoughts of him persisted more than you'd like to admit. Each time you stepped into the elevator or the lobby of your apartment, you secretly hoped for another chance meeting. Though you were someone who always tried to look presentable when stepping out, you found yourself putting in extra effort, something that didn’t go unnoticed by your flatmate.

"This usually isn't like you. Hoping to run into someone?" Sienna teases you with a knowing smirk as you prepare for the day ahead. With an interview for a teaching assistant position in the morning, lunch plans with your future classmates and some pending errands, today was shaping up to be quite hectic.

"You know," you explain to Sienna, "I just need to meet a bunch of people today, trying to make a good first impression that's all." Sienna's excitement bubbles as she responds, "Speaking of meeting new people, we're going to a party tonight!"

Usually, you were pretty social, but with all the tasks on your list today, the only thing getting you through the day is the thought of getting home and sinking into your bed. "I have quite a long day ahead, and all I want is to rest once I'm back," you confess to Sienna. But she's the persistent type that doesn’t take no for an answer, "You're in London now. New place. New life. You need to make some new friends as well," she insists. "Come on, it'll be fun. You can meet some of my friends."

"Fine, I'll see if I'm feeling up to it once I'm back in the evening," you reluctantly agree and bid her goodbye. “Good luck on your interview!” Sienna screams as you head out the door.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

You return home to a dimly lit flat, only illuminated by the lamp next to the couch and the light emanating from Sienna’s room. You feel a wave of relief as you kick off your shoes, finally able to give your feet a break after being on them all day. You attempt to move as quietly as possible, hoping to sneak past Sienna and retreat to your bedroom for some much-needed rest. However, it seems as though she possesses some sort of mind reading ability, as she calls out to you in a sing-songy tone, "Hey Y/N… Don't even think about sneaking off. Get in here."

You weakly protest, "But…" before Sienna shuts down any objections with a firm, "No buts. Get in here." Giving up, you toss your purse and the shopping bags onto the couch and reluctantly make your way into her room.

Standing in the doorway of her bedroom, you offer a half-hearted, "You called?"

"Yes, get your cute butt in here and get ready. You can borrow one of my tops if you want," Sienna responds. Though you pout for a moment, Sienna's pointed glare leaves you with no room for argument. You finally agree, "Fine… I'll go put something on. I'll be right back." Sienna nods, continuing to put on her mascara.

Returning to your bedroom, you rummage through a box of clothes that you had yet to unpack. Finally settling on a pair of black wide-leg jeans, a black bralette, and a sheer black top to layer over it. Quickly changing, you grab your makeup bag and head back into Sienna's room.

"You look so hot! If I were a guy, I'd be all over you," she says with a wink. "I know right!" you playfully reply as you start to retouch your makeup beside her in the mirror.

As you apply a fresh coat of lipstick, you inquire, "Where is this party by the way?" Sienna responds, "Oh, it's right upstairs. It's a house party at my friend George’s place."

"Cool, but I don't want to stay too long. I actually feel like I'll drop dead any second after the long day I've had," you tell Sienna, hoping she'll understand your need for an early night, but you can't help but feel a twang of hope in your heart that you might run into the cute brown-eyed stranger there.

Sienna turns to you with a playful salute, saying, "Yes, ma'am. We'll just have a few drinks, mingle around. We won't be there long." Her words reassure you, and you offer her an appreciative smile as the two of you share a laugh.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

As you and Sienna stand outside of George's flat, you hear the sounds of laughter and music echo from inside. With an encouraging grin, Sienna grabs you by the arms and pushes open the door, pulling you into the flat.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in the sights and sounds of the party. Despite your fatigue, a spark of excitement blooms within you; it's been a while since you've had the opportunity to drink a little and let loose.

Sienna's eyes scan the room. and an excited smile lights up her face as she spots someone. "George!", she calls out enthusiastically, waving to catch the attention of a brown haired man.

He gives Sienna a slightly intoxicated smile as he stumbles over to where the two of you stand. "Hi! You made it!," he greets her with a hug.

Sienna responds with a smile, saying, "Of course! Any excuse to get drunk," as she pulls away and turns slightly towards you. "George, this is my other half, Y/N," she introduces, prompting you to flash him a smile and lean in for a side hug, which he reciprocates.

"Hey, Y/N, how are you finding London so far?" George inquires, prompting you to reply, "Oh, it's been great, and it's a plus living with Sienna…"

"Well, let me introduce you to the rest of the gang and get you guys a drink. Come." He leads the two of you near the kitchen, where you see two men chatting with solo cups in hand. George gestures towards the drinks and encourages you to help yourselves, handing you each a cup as well.

You quickly fix yourself a drink and take a sip, the cold liquid adding some life back into you. You turn around to see Sienna and George now in a conversation with the two other guys. You grab your drink and head over to join them.

"Guys, this is Y/N," Sienna introduces you to the two men in front of you, slinging an arm around you in the process. "Y/N, this is Chris and this is Arthur," Sienna continues, "They live here too. We have another Arthur; he should be around here somewhere," George adds as he takes a look around the room.

Arthur extends his hand and says, "It's nice to finally meet you. Sienna doesn't shut up about you." Chris chimes in, "Yeah, we know everything… even the thing with the door." You look at him in shock and lightly laugh, replying, "Yeah....I am not drunk enough to get into the whole door story." you say taking a large swig of your drink, earning a laugh from the group.

30 minutes and many vodka shots later, you get to learn a little more about the boys. The conversation is flowing and filled with laughter. You find out that all of them are YouTubers and create content on the internet. George makes videos on YouTube and Tik-Tok, and Chris made football videos. Arthur, in particular, was a musician, which you spent a few good minutes remarking how cool that was.

After conversing a bit more, Sienna takes you around the room and introduces you to few more people. Some lived in the building and others were mutual friends that she had with George, Chris and Arthur.

You are chatting with a few girls when George joins the group, more shots in hand, "No more...I'm like another shot away from throwing up," you tell him.

"That's fine. I'll find someone to hold your hair back," he says with a chuckle, placing a shot glass in your hand and in the already drunk state you were in, you comply.

Even more shots later, you excuse yourself to go to the restroom. George tells you to use the en-suite in his room and despite George's instructions, it takes you all but 5 seconds to forget in your intoxicated state.

You head in the general direction that he pointed you in and walk down the hall, stumbling into the first bedroom that you see. The room has a cozy and warm atmosphere. There is a filming set up on the desk in the corner, a bookshelf overflowing with books and a white piano placed against one of the walls. At first glance, you don't feel like the room fits the vibe that George had, but you brushed it off and made a beeline to the toilet.

You finish your business and step out of the restroom. As you exit, you hear the door of the balcony open wider, and at that moment it dawns on you that you might have unintentionally entered someone else's private space by mistake.

Without a second thought, you try to head straight out the door, hoping to completely avoid any interaction at all. But with the alcohol slowing down your reaction time, you're only able to take maybe four steps before you hear a man's voice, "Oh, hello."

In that moment, you just want to make a run for it, but instead, you turn around to face whoever's room this was. You're pleasantly surprised when you come face to face with a familiar warm smile.

"Hey", you reply with slight surprise in your tone, a smile creeping up on your face. His face lights up with a bright smile at the sight of the person that was occupying space in his mind for the past week.

"Hide everything heavy, else I might drop it on your foot," you say, your face scrunching at your embarrassing attempt to make this interaction less awkward. Your words earn you a laugh.

"Oh, sorry btw," you blurt out, pointing to the restroom door. "George said I could use the one in his room, but I got confused and ended up here. I know I probably should have checked to see if there was someone else here first. Haha, I don't always think too straight when I'm drunk, you know, especially because it's been almost 6 months since I drank last so, I'm usually not a lightweight, but I guess the large pause from drinking has kind of turned me into one." you word vomit in your drunken state.

You pause for a second to catch your breath, all while the man in front of you takes it all in with an amused smile on his face. "Oh shit, I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry for that," your words are accompanied with a slight stumble even while just standing, and the man quickly rushes to your side. "Woah there," he says, helping you regain balance. "Come sit down." He leads you and sits you down on the edge of his bed, taking a seat next to you.

"Oh! I'm Y/N, by the way. Sorry I didn't catch your name last time," you finally introduce yourself, hoping to clear the awkward air. He smiles warmly. "I'm Arthur," he says, his voice soft and friendly.

"So you're the fourth flatmate," you remark, trying to keep the conversation flowing smoothly.

"Yeah, that's me," Arthur confirms with a nod. "The elusive fourth flatmate," he adds with a chuckle. "I've been friends with the boys for a while, but I just moved in a a few weeks ago."

As Arthur talks about how he met each of his flatmates, you can't help but be drawn in by his charming and slightly goofy personality. You also didn't mind just staring at his handsome face for a while. You find yourself smiling at his easy demeanor, pleasantly surprised by how instantly at ease you started to feel around him as you two spoke, as if you'd known each other much longer than your short interactions.

You learn that Arthur is a YouTuber too, specializing in TV show commentary and reaction videos. You make a mental note to check out his channel, along with the others', when you manage to find the time.

He says, "You know, I totally felt like an idiot the other day for not getting your name." You chuckle softly, feeling a bit relieved that he brought it up first.

"Oh no, that was totally on me," you admit sheepishly, "I was in a bit of a hurry." you quickly recover, flashing him a warm smile. "But it's nice seeing you again," you say sincerely.

"Likewise," Arthur replies, a hint of relief in his voice. "I was hoping we'd run into each other again."

"Is your boyfriend here as well?" Arthur asks, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. For a moment, you almost feel like you misheard him. "I'm sorry, what?" you ask, taken aback. "Your boyfriend, the guy from the hall the other week, don't you live together?" he asks, with furrowed brows.

"Oh, no, he wasn't my boyfriend," you clarify, a hint of amusement in your voice. "I live with my friend Sienna. He's her ex; he was just coming over to pick up some of the stuff he left behind." You swear you see relief wash over Arthur's face.

"But where did you get that impression?" you ask, intrigued.

Arthur hesitates for a moment before answering, "Well, before he went into your flat, he said that his girlfriend lived there, tried to size me up, and then told me to stay away from your place."

You look at him in shock. "He did what!?" you exclaim, "Are you serious?", you say, making a mental note to strangle Joey if you were to ever see him again.

Arthur nods, a sympathetic expression on his face. "Yeah, I found the bloke a little dodgy. Weird character."

You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Well, now you know why he's her ex," you quip, shaking your head.

After a moment of silence, Arthur clears his throat, his tone slightly hesitant. "So, you're single?" he asks, his gaze meeting yours. You notice a hint of nervousness in his voice, and he quickly adds, "I-I don't mean to make you uncomfortable with that question…"

You offer him a reassuring smile. "No, no, it's okay," you reassure him, appreciating his concern. "Yes, I'm single," you confirm, feeling a sense of ease in his presence.

Arthur visibly relaxes, relieved by your response. "Good to know," he says with a small, sheepish grin. You can't help but find his reaction incredibly cute, and you let out a soft laugh. "Yeah, just focusing on finding my footing here in London," you explain, your tone light.

Arthur leans in with curiosity. "So, what brings you to London?" he asks, genuine interest gleaming in his eyes. You can't help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest, surprised and pleased by the level of interest he's showing, unable to recall any guy you've talked to who has shown such genuine curiosity about your life.

You smile, feeling a sense of connection as you share a bit of your story. "Well, I'm actually starting my Ph.D. next week," you reveal. "It's been my dream program for as long as I can remember."

His eyebrows raise in intrigue. "Wow! a Ph.D.? That's impressive. In archeology?" he asks, his interest piqued. He laughs softly, and adds "I remember from the books you dropped on me."

You laugh, appreciating his recall. "Yes, that's the one," you confirm, feeling your heart melting at how attentive he was.

"Wow, archaeology sounds fascinating," Arthur remarks, leaning in with genuine interest, and you realize just how close he had gotten during this conversation. "How did you get into it?"

You smile, reminiscing about your journey. "Well, it's kind of because of my father," you begin, "He was a Greek history professor, and some of my youngest memories are of sitting in on his lectures when I was little and he has always been very supportive of me learning about other cultures and their histories."

Arthur's eyes light up with curiosity as he listens intently.

"So I just knew," you continue, "When it was time for uni, it just felt write to study archeology. Though I was studying in the States up until now, I traveled to various countries, exploring different archaeological sites." Arthur nods, captivated by your story.

And just like that, the conversation flows effortlessly between you, diving deeper into the world of archaeology and sharing your mutual fascination with the subject. You also ask him about his journey in becoming a youtuber and are extremely impressed by how he transitioned from being a lawyer to a content creator. With each new detail he shares, you find yourself being just a little more attracted to him.

As you continue on with your conversation, your attention is drawn away when you hear a knock on the open door of the room.

George peaks his head into the room, you get up and face him, realizing that you had completely forgotten that you even were at a party. Time had slipped away as you spoke with Arthur.

You check your phone, and were slightly shocked to see that almost 2 hours had passed by since you came stumbling into Arthur's room.

"Y/N, I was looking for you," George says, concern evident in his voice. "Sienna seems a bit out of it. I think you should take her home."

Immediately, you're on your feet, concern for your friend overriding any other thoughts. You follow George back into the living room, Arthur following closely behind. You see that the crowd had thinned out a bit but the music was still playing and there were still people chatting and drinking.

Sienna is sprawled out on the couch, her hair covering her face. You crouch down next to her, gently brushing her hair away. "Are you okay, babe?" you ask softly.

Sienna's eyes flutter open, and she springs up, throwing her arms around you. "Y/N! Where were you all night? I wanted to drink more with you!" she exclaims. Then, she turns to George and demands, "Get us more shots, George!"

George looks between the two of you and shakes his head with a smile. "Water it is," he says and heads to the kitchen to get some.

Sienna spots Arthur standing behind you. "Hey there," she says cheerfully. She'd always been the more social one between you two and absolutely loved meeting new people.

Arthur comes over and crouches next to you, introducing himself to her. "You must be Sienna. I'm Arthur, another one of George's flatmates," he says warmly. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?" He asks, and you find yourself looking at Arthur with a smile, touched by how sweet he was being.

"You're the guy that Y/N almost decapitated last week," she teases, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, completely ignoring Arthur's questions. "Oh, you are cute!"

Sienna then glances at you, a goofy smile spreading across her face. "You were right, he is cute," she says, with a playful wink in your direction.

As Sienna's playful words sink in, you feel a blush creeping up on your face. Sienna always lost whatever little filter she had when she was drunk.

You catch Arthur glancing at you for a second, and you quickly avert your gaze, attempting to hide your flushing cheeks.

George returns with a bottle of water and hands it to you. You get Sienna to drink as much as she can.

"I should get her to bed then," you announce to the boys. Moving to pick her up, you find her weight causing you to stumble. Just as you're about to lose your balance, Arthur steps in to help, stabilizing both of you.

"I'll help get her back home," Arthur offers. You flash him an appreciative smile. Grateful for his assistance, you nod in agreement.

"It was great meeting you George," you say with a smile as he hands you Sienna's bag.

"It was great meeting you too," George replies warmly. "Take care yeah?", you nod in response.

With a final wave, you and Arthur begin to make your way out of the apartment, Sienna leaning on both of you for support.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

"Alright, Sienna, we're home," you say gently as you now stand in front of your door, slightly nudging her, waking her up, as she had managed to doze off while you were getting the door open. You carefully guide her through the door with Arthur's assistance.

"Her bedroom is just down the hall." You say to Arthur and he helps you get her to her room.

"Let's get you settled then," you say to Sienna as you lay her in her bed and take her heels off. Arthur steps aside for a moment while you tuck Sienna into bed and ensure she's comfortable.

Once Sienna is settled, you glance at Arthur and gesture him to leave with you. The two of you leave her bedroom as quietly as possible, and you step outside your flat so you can thank him and see him off.

You and Arthur stand in the hallway outside your door, a quiet moment settling between you.

"Thank you again for helping me with Sienna," you say, breaking the silence.

Arthur shakes his head, "It wasn't a bother at all," he replies sincerely, his eyes reflecting genuine kindness. Then, he remarks, "You and Sienna seem really close."

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, we've known each other since we were about 10 years old. She's probably the only person in the world who knows me better than I know myself," you explain. Arthur listens attentively, admiring you as you talk about your best friend with a slight twinkle in your eye.

Arthur nods with a smile. "It was great seeing you again," he says, and you return his smile, expressing your mutual sentiment.

He then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone. "Could I get your number?" he asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he hands you his phone.

You take the phone with a smile, feeling the subtle tension building in the air. After exchanging numbers, a moment of silence passes as you gaze into each other's eyes. In that moment, you notice just how close he's stood, his height easily towering over you.

In a low voice, you say, "I really enjoyed speaking with you today," with a smile. Arthur replies, "So did I."

The tension between you grows palpable, and Arthur breaks the silence. "I think we should hang out more often," he suggests.

"Yeah, I think so too," you reply, excitement lacing your voice.

Maybe it was the alcohol that was still flowing in your system, or maybe it was the feeling of anticipation that was building, almost like each of you was waiting for the other to say or do something, or maybe it was just this gorgeous man standing ever so close to you, with his pretty brown eyes and a charming smile that was already getting you weak at your knees. Whatever the reason may be, all you knew is that you were feeling surprisingly bold tonight.

Without another word, you lean in, deciding to shoot your shot with the guy who only came into your life a week ago. Arthur reciprocates, leaning in and connecting his lips with yours. His hands come up to your waist, giving it a light squeeze as he pulls you almost flush against his hard chest. The sudden contact causes a light gasp to escape your mouth. Arthur takes the chance as he slips his hot tongue into your mouth. Arthur's tongue explores your mouth, sending shivers down your spine and a warmth spreads down your body.

He gently pushes you up against your door as he deepens the kiss further. You find yourself melting into his touch, your arms moving up to wrap around his neck. You give his fluffy soft hair a slight tug, causing Arthur to let out a low groan and he tries to get even closer to you, as if that were even physically possible anymore.

You feel his warm hand snake up the back of your shirt and settle on the low of your back, the sensation turning your legs to jelly.

If someone would have told you a month a ago that you’d be making out with a guy you had just met outside of your flat in London, you would have laughed at their face.

This particular moment was absolutely perfect and you did not wanna stop anytime soon.

Eventually, the two of you pull away breathless, panting for air. Both of you look at each other with matching lust-filled eyes and flushed cheeks.

In that moment the both of you let out a laugh, now feeling a lot lighter after breaking the tension.

Arthur takes a step back and looks like he is about to say something. But, before he can get a word in, a loud thud interrupts the moment from inside your flat.

The sounds causes you to jolt and step away from the door. You turn around to open the door, hoping that Sienna hadn't hurt herself in her drunk state.

Before you stepped into you flat, you turn to Arthur. "I had a really good time tonight," you say, smiling. He returns you that swoon worthy smile of his.

"I'll see you later." He says with a goodbye.

With that, you head inside, a goofy smile of your own plastered across your face. You lean against your door and take a moment to process what just happened.

"Y/N", your thoughts are interrupted as you hear Sienna call out to you from inside her bedroom.

"Coming," you reply, heading in her direction, your mind still reeling from the passionate moment you shared with Arthur.

Once you had made sure that Sienna was all good and tucked back into bed, you find yourself sitting on the edge of your bed, with flushed cheeks, replaying the events of tonight.

Your phone dings beside you, lighting up your dark bedroom. You peer over to see a "Hi" from an unknown number and at that moment you knew that this new chapter of your life in London, might just be the best one yet.

Part 2

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: AAAAAAHHHH! I still can't believe that I've finally gotten my first fic up. I kind of want to write a part 2 for this fic. I’m envisioning cute museum dates and late night ramblings. Something that is in the same universe as this story. Let me know what you think.

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

[arten1234]

only because I love you | draco malfoy X reader

Summary: When you and Draco break up before the war, but not for the reason you think.

—————————————————————————

It was just like every other train ride to Hogwarts, or at least it was supposed to be. What was usually a train filled bustling excitement for the new school year, was filled with horrifying thoughts, and whispers of how everyone’s world was changing. You tried not to listen to it as you were leaning against the window in your compartment with the trio and Ginny. Even that wasn’t enjoyable as everybody was trying to ignore the weird tension between Ginny and Harry as well as Ron and Hermione, and you were kinda just stuck in the middle of it, wishing all those idiots would realize their feelings.

Draco was in his own compartment you assumed, most likely with his friends you despised, just as he despised yours. You guys had been dating since the middle of year four, but lately he's been distant, if that's one way to describe it. You assumed it was just because of the stress surrounding the brewing war as well as his own internal family affairs. Anybody would be stressed, but something else was causing Draco to slowly tear himself away from you. You couldn't handle the tension in your compartment at this point so you decided to go see your boyfriend, after all it had to be better than this compartment, right?

You were wrong.

"I think I'm going to go see what Draco is up to,” you said while awkwardly standing up, resulting in Hermione giving you a why are you leaving me here look, and Ginny giving you a wide eyed tight look. You chuckled before leaving and starting towards the end of the train, glancing into each box to see which one Draco was in. Eventually you came across Draco sitting on one side of a box, and Pansy and Blaise on the other.

Yes Pansy.

You two never had a rosy relationship as she was practically in love with Draco, and before you and Draco started dating, you and Pansy were even somewhat friends. Now it was definitely turbulent, you were always on the mend of punching her, but Draco always assured you everything was fine and he only had eyes for you.

You don’t know why you believed him.

You sent a knock on the glass and Dracos head shot over quicker than ever. Strange. He looked kind of scared that you were there, like he had to hide something. Pansy looked at you and sent a smirk while shooting her eyebrows up and down. You just sent an eye roll back. He opened the doors and instead of letting you in, he stepped out and closed the door again.

"What are you doing here,” Draco asked bluntly, you’re pretty sure it didn't mean to come out the way it did, but it still stung.

“I'm just here to see my boyfriend, something wrong with that?" you asked, the annoying apparent in your tone.

“No of course not, I need to talk to you though, let's come over here" Draco said guiding you to the small area between the boxes and the toilets. You seemed to get an idea of what was coming, you internally begged that your intuition was wrong, but you just had a gut feeling. You stayed silent leaning your back against the wall and Draco leaning against the other one. Even though he had distanced himself from you, you still loved him, and you thought he loved you too.

"Look I just- I know I've been ignoring you, and I know I haven't wrote to you, and I'm sorry but I just-" he paused and you knew what was coming next, "I can't do this anymore" five words that made your heart shatter.

"What why? Did I do something? Did I say something? Did i-" he cut off your rambling "No it's not that it's just…." he spoke but he paused, like he didn't have a reason he could tell you about. "Just what Draco, I spent the last 2 years with you, I listened to you breakdown about everything, I was by your side through everything and now your breaking up with me, why?" you yelled at him and it took him my shock. He just turned his head to the side, grabbing his head and thinking of what to say. You started to think, the distance, the ignoring, the way he was acting when you came to his box, the look Pansy gave you at the door…. could he be cheating? No, he couldn't right?

"Is there somebody else" your voice cracking despite your attempt to remain unaffected. He quickly turned his head and went to shake it no, but instead it seemed like he finally knew what to say. "I- look you’re perfect but I just- I lost feelings, and there's nothing wrong with you-," he went to grab your hands but you smacked them away with tears spilling down your face "Darling please I promise I was going to tell you sooner but I just couldn't stand to break you like that.”

“How could you do this to me? All the shit my friends gave me for being with you, saying you were up to no good, I believed you over them, how could I be so stupid?” You screamed at him, sobbing and slamming your fists on his chest. At this point Draco’s eyes were glazed over as well, but not for the reasons you think. You just leaned back on your side of the small space before sliding down to the floor and burying your face in your hands. He knew it was better to just leave at this point, so he bent down towards you and placed a small kiss on your forehead. You looked up at him with your tear stained face and his heart broke at the sight. "I'm sorry" were his last two words before he unlocked the door and left.

Just like that.

You stayed there for another 15 minutes sobbing before Ron came to use the bathroom and found you in your state. He rushed back and got the others and you told them everything that had happened while Hermione had to stop the guys from breaking Draco into pieces.

Just one thing though. It was all a lie.


"Is there somebody else" her small voice spoke up, the same voice he fell in love with, the voice he was still in love with. He had to do. this, He had to lie. Draco was informed by his parents this past summer that he would be becoming one of them, a death eater. If he didn’t do this, he knew she wouldn't be safe. He had to protect her and this was the only way he could. Draco watched her hit his chest over and over and he knew he deserved it. She was broken. Draco gave her one last kiss before walking out.

Just as broken.

[secondratefiction]

That 70's Show Drabble request: It's your and your twin brother Eric's 16th birthday, kitty and red usually remember but they forget yours this year, your boyfriend Hyde notices and gives you one of the best birthdays ever, including you two both having sex for the first time. Hyde also does a little cussing at red And kitty for forgetting their youngest daughter's special day.

'ello my love, always nice to see you around 😁

Afraid I might have gone a little off the brief for this one, but hopefully it still hits at least most of what you wanted 💜

(Ok, yes, timeline wise, Hyde was living with the Foreman's before he got the car, but this is basically the fandom versions of "...who's like is it anyway?" where the stories are made up and canon events don't matter, so... just roll with it)

You're blaming Eric for this.

He was the one who decided he didn't want to share a birthday party with you any more

Now, granted, you had agreed, mostly out of anger and annoyance with him in the moment - "Fine! Why would I want another stupid Star Wars themed party anyway!" - But you hadn't thought it would end up here...

The decision had been made after the disastrous aftermath of your last combined party, and it was something that had slipped your mind over the last year.

Of course in the month before, Eric was sure to bring it up, and remind your parents that you were doing separate celebrations... although, you weren't expecting exactly how that ended up working out.

Your mother had seemed to pull out all the stops for this year "Sixteen is such a special age after all..."

There were pancakes and all of Eric's favorites at breakfast... only Eric's though

And you tried not to let that get to you, but you didn't even get so much as a happy birthday out of any of them... not even your Dad which stung quite a bit considering that it was no secret that he had a tendency to favor you over Eric and even Lori.

But you sucked it up, put on a brave face, and tried to act like it wasn't a big deal... which you were actually pretty good at -

At least until you got sent down to the basement to collect a few things for your mom. That's when Hyde spotted you...

He sat up from the couch looking like he was struggling to wake up. Which, in all fairness, he was, "Hey, little Foreman." You rolled your eyes at him, leaning on the ack of the couch, "Did you sleep here again?" "Yeah." He nodded, leaning into kiss you. "You're gonna get caught..." He only smirked up at you with a shrug, "We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

Standing up, he vaulted over the back of the couch to pull you into a proper kiss that honestly made you a little weak in the knees, leaning into him more as he pulled away, "Happy Birthday baby."

And just like that the damn broke...

You let out a strangled, broken laugh, quickly burying your face in his chest to try and hide the fact tears had immediately sprung up, and that you were losing the fight to keep them contained.

To say Hyde was caught off guard would be the under statement of the century. He almost panicked as he scrambled trying to figure out what was wrong, what he'd said to set you off.

All of this despite your poor attempts to assure him it was nothing. "Hey, no. Look at me," He pulled you back from him so you couldn't keep hiding, and waiting until you actually looked up to meet his eyes, "If you are this upset, it is not 'nothing'. Now, tell me what happened."

You tried to fight it, keep your mouth shut, but there was an intensity in his gaze that left no room for argument... he wasn't going to let this go until you told him, so you did, laying out all the events of the morning, "... I can't believe they fucking forgot my birthday."

For a moment Hyde's expression was unreadable and you had just started to ask what he was thinking when he grabbed you by your elbow and started walking you towards the door "Wait! Steven, what are you - I'm supposed to be grabbing a box for my mom." "Don't worry about it, I'll get it."

He walked you straight out of the garage, putting you in the Camino, still very confused before he turned around a disappeared back down the basement steps.

He grabbed the box you had indicated and made his way up to the kitchen. Smiling tightly and nodding in greeting when Kitty noticed him. "I didn't realize you were here Steven." "I just came by to pick up Y/N... plans for her birthday, you know."

He took the moment of realization and shock on her face as a chance to drop the box on the table and make a quick exit out the sliding glass door.

He was sliding into the driver's seat by the time Kitty could be heard shouting for Red inside the house, throwing his arm behind your head as he looked to back the car out of the drive

"Ok..." You said slowly as he turned around to put the car in drive, pulling away from your house, "So what are we doing?"

"Don't know yet, that's up to you," He said, smirking at you, letting his hand come to rest on your knee, "Tell me what you want to do, and I'll make it happen."

You couldn't help but laugh a little bit, almost beaming at him as you put your own hand over his, "Anything I want?" "Anything."

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (05)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

a/n;; omg, i'm alive????? jkjk, work's been piling up lately and i'm honestly drained by the time I get back home so I couldn't do much writing or even qc the draft before yoinking them into a tumblr draft 💀 but anyways, hope yall enjoy this chapter !! uri boo makes a small little cameo in this chapter :D a part of the angst in this fic has also arrived, pls be prepared (it’s not that heavy tho).

You were 15 when you experienced your first ‘heartbreak’. Though, you call it a ‘heartbreak’ solely because it was a “for the lack of a better word” situation. A week before summer break, your parents had announced that the three of you would be flying off to Jeju to visit your grandparents.

You adore your grandparents, and they adore you just as much. Before you started middle school, you remember constantly flying off to Jeju, or even taking the ferry, to visit them every holiday and school break possible. Even during the initial stage of your move to the small town, your parents had sent you off to your grandparents as they sorted out the heavier parts.

Your grandparents had brought you to the beach, taught you how to make kimchi and even brought you to one of the fireworks shows during your stay. But, when you started middle school and were bombarded by a shit ton of schoolwork, you weren’t able to visit them as often.

So, you were ecstatic when your parents announced the Jeju trip. Both Aki and Seungcheol could see the excitement and happiness in your eyes as you told them about your plans.

Aki asking you questions about Jeju while Seungcheol listens to both of you with a small smile on his face. “how long will you be there, pup?” he asks, cheek leaning against the palm of his hand.

“Uhm… I think maybe for two weeks? I’m not really sure… Dad did ask mom if she wanted me to tag along with them to London afterwards…”

“Oh? What are they gonna be doing in London?”

“They have a business meeting that lasts at least two days. But, they decided to stay back a week for a mini vacation.”

“Do you want to go?” Aki asks as she pops a piece of strawberry into her mouth, stealing a glance at Seungcheol, noticing the way his shoulders are slumped at the mention of you thinking of joining your parents overseas.

Dude looks like a puppy not wanting its owner to leave it alone… she thought to herself, finding the scene in front of her amusing.

“Well, whether or not you want to join your parents, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself regardless!” she spoke.

“Take good care of yourself, pup,” Seungcheol added as he reached out a hand and patted your head, sending a faint blush spreading across your cheeks and a teasing smile on Aki’s lips, “If you ever need anything, call me, okay?”

“Or me!”

The older male rolled his eyes at Aki’s words, smiling when you nod your head.

“Seungkwannie!” you squealed out in happiness as you ran up to your cousin who was standing out at the gates of your grandparent's house, engulfing him in a big hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! Mom and Dad said that you’d be in Biyangdo!”

“And miss out on the chance to spend time with my favourite cousin? Never!” Seungkwan proclaimed as he pecked your cheek. “I haven’t seen you in years, ___! There’s no way I’d pass off the opportunity to spend time with you while you’re here!”

Seungkwan is your cousin from your mom’s side of the family. Before the age of 5, you don’t remember much about meeting Seungkwan other than the stories both your parents would tell you over family dinners. For example, when you asked them about the scar Seungkwan had on his chest, his dad said you were the one that left it on him. They proceeded to tell the story of how you had scratched Seungkwan because he had refused to let you watch Pocoyo on tv when both of you were just 3.

Or when his mom would ask you if you remembered Seungkwan hiding in the closet to scare you, but you ended up crying because you had thought he went home. So, instead of scaring you, he came out of the closet and both your parents found the two of you cuddled up on the floor the next morning

After Seungkwan helped you and your parents move the luggage into your grandparent’s home, Both of you sat on the porch, drinking the lemonade your grandmother had prepared. “How’re you, aunt and uncle doing?” he asks, “I heard from Uncle Lee that you’re starting high school soon! probably in a few months, right?”

“Things have been the same, besides the whole mom and dad having to go overseas occasionally and I had to stay with either Aki or Seungcheol.”

“Speaking of Seungcheol, how’s that little crush of yours on him going?” Seungkwan asked with a teasing smile, nudging your sides, “Ever thought of telling him before he graduates? There’s a chance he might head off to the big cities or even abroad for college.”

You were silent for a moment.

You have thought about telling Seungcheol your feelings, but you never thought about the timing. Now that his graduation is nearing, you still haven’t told him. As you were still stuck in your thoughts, Seungkwan places a hand on your shoulder, “Well, whatever happens, I wish you happiness.“

“You say that as if I’m leaving you forever.”

“Hey, let me be sentimental!”

Just as you rolled your eyes, you felt your phone vibrate - you had gotten a text from Aki.

aki: did you make it to Jeju safe? ___ bestie <3: yeap! ___ bestie <3: i’m with my cousin rn ___ bestie <3: [sent an attachment] aki: ooh, he’s cute ___ bestie <3: want me to introduce you? aki: gurl aki: don’t try to matchmake me when you’re struggling to tell Seungcheol about how you feel aki: and besides aki: your cousin is cute, but he’s not my type ___ bestie <3: wow ___ bestie <3: you really just did me dirty aki: i’m just saying ___ aki: better tell him before you lose the chance aki: besides your romantic struggles aki: have fun and take lots of pictures! aki: can’t wait to see them when you get back <3 ___ bestie <3: i will!

“Are you gonna stay here with grandma and grandpa while Aunt and Uncle Lee fly out to London?” Seungkwan asks as you set down your phone, refilling his glass of lemonade. You shrugged, still debating on whether or not you wanted to join your parents. “I’m honestly stuck in between… On one hand, I want to see what other countries are like. On the other, I haven’t seen grandma and grandpa in years…”

Your mother who was on her way to give you both a plate of strawberries overheard the conversation and tried her best to help you with your indecisiveness. “___, sweetie,” she began as she set the plate on the wooden porch floor, “you can always travel in the future when you’re all grown up.”

“That sounds like you just want her to stay here in Jeju so you and uncle can enjoy yourselves without her presence,” Seungkwan teased, earning a forehead flick from your mother.

“Well, she’ll be in your care too, Seungkwan. I hope I won’t return to a sassy, diva daughter after leaving her here with you.”

Seungkwan gasps dramatically, placing a hand over his chest at your mother’s statement. “Aunt Lee, I’m hurt and offended.”

“You’re just further proving my point, Seungkwan.”

“Hey, the sass could end up helping her in the future!”

cheollie: hey, pup cheollie: mom said you and your parents made it to Jeju safely cheollie: how are you feeling? cheollie: did you get motion sickness during the flight? cheollie: did you eat dinner yet? sweet pup: ehh, the motion sickness wasn’t that bad sweet pup: grandma made lemonade :D sweet pup: and yes, i ate dinner! sweet pup: grandpa grilled some mackerel sweet pup: [sent an attachment] sweet pup: and look at how fat the strawberries are :0 sweet pup: [sent an attachment] cheollie: wow cheollie: those look good cheollie: hey, do you think it’s alright if we have a call? sweet pup: like, right now? cheollie: yea sweet pup: oh sweet pup: um, let me head out to the porch cheollie: take your time, pup

As you quietly exited the room you were staying in and out onto the porch, you picked up Seungcheol’s incoming call, feeling the butterflies in your stomach intensify when you heard his deep, “Hey, pup.”

“Hi, Cheollie! Have you had your dinner?” you asked, getting a small hum as a response. “Dad got a deal with a big client so he bought steak for us. Mom also cooked calamari.”

“Wow, it must’ve tasted amazing…”

“Yeah, it was. But, tell me about your dinner, ___. I’m sure you had more than just grilled mackerel.” Seungcheol chuckled, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you mentally cussed at how the older male still has an effect on you despite being 2 hours away and talking to you through a phone.

“Well… Mom made raw crabs and seafood soup!”

“Looks like my little puppy is eating well... That’s good.”

“Is there another reason you wanted to call, Cheollie?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end, making you slightly anxious. You hear a faint rustling, thinking he must be lying on his bed as he’s talking to you. A sigh was heard before Seungcheol told you his motive for calling you - and to say it had you on the floor was an understatement.

No, this man had you envisioning a future with him.

“I miss you.”

When you didn't respond, Seungcheol got worried, calling out your name on the other end while you remained stunned at his confession.

“U-uhm, yeah?”

“Did that make you uncomfortable, pup?”

“No, no, it just… It just caught me by surprise…”

You hear Seungcheol chuckle, and more rustling can be heard before he speaks again. “Well, I’m used to having you around me, twenty-four seven, ___. It feels weird when you’re not.”

“I’ll be back in two weeks, Cheollie. You’re being dramatic!”

Maybe he was, the older male thought to himself. But, he pushes that thought to the back of his head as he finally tells you the real reason he’s calling you.

“My parents are thinking of bringing me to Seoul this weekend to check out a few unis… I just thought that I’d let you know since, y’know… I’m graduating soon…”

Your heart sank at the mention of him graduating. You knew it was bound to happen - you even told yourself to not be too sad when he does end up moving out of Daegu for college. But, to hear it coming from Seungcheol himself, the reality hit harder.

“Oh… Well, I’m happy for you!” you tried your best to hide the sadness in your voice, though he still picked it up. “Pup, I’m not going away forever. You’ll still see me when I come back during breaks and when you leave for college, you can come over to Seoul, too!” he assures you, chuckling to himself as he continues, “Maybe our parents might even have us share an apartment so I can watch over you.”

Humming, you stared up into the sky, mesmerised by the stars that were scattered along the blanket of the night sky.

“___?”

“Yea…?”

“Remember what I taught you during our taekwondo sessions?”

“What about it?”

“Don’t forget how to use them, okay? Can’t have my little puppy all defenceless now, can I?”

you bit your lip as Seungcheol went on with his words, how he wished he could stay in Daegu longer so he could spend more time with you. How he wanted to explore the bigger city in Daegu with you (where he implies it being just two of you and without Aki who would often nag at him for having a bad taste in things).

“I’m gonna miss you…” you muttered quietly, not knowing how or what else you were supposed to say. You weren’t going to tell him about your feelings, that’s for sure. but, a part of you wished you could.

Who knows? Maybe you both could end up being something.

“It’s getting late, pup. you must be tired from the flight and settling in. Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Cheollie…”

When the call ended, you stared at the screen of your phone, a million thoughts racing through your head. You couldn’t put a finger on it, but you had a sinking feeling in your stomach. perhaps you were overthinking the whole situation or something wrong was bound to happen. Whatever it was, you quietly got back into your room and crawled into bed.

Something didn’t feel right.

It was the weekend Seungcheol was due to head to Seoul to have a look at the city and attend a few of the education fairs - and not once, had you gotten a single message from him.

In fact, in the days leading up to that weekend, he had been quiet too. His replies were either short, took too long or there weren’t any replies at all.

It makes you feel uneasy.

“Still no updates from loverboy?” Seungkwan asks, glancing over your shoulder and peeking at your phone, seeing the wall of texts about how the past few days have gone down for you. When you sulkingly shake your head, Seungkwan’s heart aches as he sees his favourite cousin down in the dumps.

“Hey,” he calls out in a gentle tone, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. “Maybe he’s just caught up with those college things. Sooner or later he’s bound to update you, right? Besides, you should be busy having fun here in Jeju!”

Looking at your phone one last time, you shoved it back into your pocket and let Seungkwan drag you to a food street, saying how they added more delicious treats since the last time you visited.

By evening, there was still no news about or from Seungcheol. You’ve tried calling him multiple times, but they all end up going to voicemail. It was starting to affect you and your parents began to take notice, but decided to not question it for fear of triggering an episode. After dinner, you decided to call Aki in an attempt to get some form of comfort.

“I just don’t understand, Aki,” you told her, “I texted him, even called him but I got nothing! What if something bad happened to him?”

“Hey now, you’re probably overthinking things. He might just be sorting those uni documents out - you know how lengthy and taxing they can be. Maybe, he’s just tired and needs some rest!”

“You think so?”

“It’s just a guess, ___. whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t anything serious.”

Oh, how you wished it really wasn’t anything serious.

When the time came to send your parents off at the airport for their trip to London, you had sent a message to Seungcheol and yet again, you got no response. One thing you came to realise in recent years, was how big of an over-thinker you are. It was something you hated and while your family, Seungcheol and Aki have done whatever they can to help you lessen your overthinking, that still doesn’t stop it from creeping up on you from time to time.

Seungkwan does his best to cheer you up. Bringing you to more food streets, a maze field, and even the seaside to take your mind off of Seungcheol but alas, it was as if Seungcheol had taken over your mind just like the virus in ‘The Last of Us’. One evening as you sat on the sand of the beach, staring off into the horizon, Seungkwan came up and sat next to you.

“I know this might not sound nice, but you can’t let something like Seungcheol not responding to you ruin your trip, ___. Sure, it’s upsetting having someone you’ve known for years and care for go ghost on you, but it’s kind of… pathetic, to let it ruin what could be a fun summer vacation.”

As much as those words hurt you, Seungkwan was right.

You hadn’t seen your family that lived in Jeju for years and now that you can, you’re letting something like your crush not responding to you ruin it. “Then, what should I do, Kwannie…?” you asked, wiping the tears that were starting to stream down your face, “I don’t wanna leave Jeju knowing I didn’t get to spend time with you and our grandparents…”

“How about you try calling him only once? If he doesn’t pick up, we’ll forget about it and move on, okay?”

You give it a thought, minutes passing by before you pick up your phone and dial Seungcheol’s number, placing it near your ear.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

Seungkwan noticed your body shaking as you redialled the number, your breathing starting to grow shallow.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialled cannot be reached.”

“___?” Seungkwan calls out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. When you began to cry, he pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back as you cried your heart out. “Shhh, it’s okay, ____. it’s okay.”

When you got back to Daegu, your heart dropped at the sight of the empty house next to yours. the entire house looked as if it were fully emptied (which it was) - the potted plants Mrs. Choi had displayed on the gates were nowhere to be seen, the shoes that were neatly arranged on the shoe rack weren’t there anymore, and the Choi’s family car wasn’t parked in its usual place.

“I guess they must’ve moved since Seungcheol is going to start college soon…” your mother tells your father who hums in response as he unloads the luggage from the trunk of the taxi. When she notices the sadness and tears in your eyes, she immediately starts comforting you.”Oh, sweetie… Does it upset you that much?”

“I… I couldn’t even say goodbye to him…” you sobbed out, “I couldn’t even see him one last time before he left…”

“Oh, princess…” your father coos after bidding the taxi driver goodbye, hugging you tight as your mother does the same, “I’m sure he feels sad for not being able to do the same, hmm?”

“Will… Will I… Will I be able to see him again?” you asked through hiccuped sobs, wiping your tears away as more kept spilling. Your mother nods, giving you a pat on the head. “I'm sure you will, honey.”

“He said he’s thinking of joining University of Pledis, right?” your father asked, a small smile on his face when you nod, “Then, you just need to study hard and get in there too! That way, you can finally be reunited with prince charming!”

despite your tears, you still manage to laugh at your dad’s tease. “Dad!”

“Ah-ah, don’t think we didn’t know about your little crush on Seungcheol, ___.” he responded, chuckling as he gave your arm an assuring squeeze.

“Whatever the future has in store, I’m sure the two of you will meet again.”

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @minhui896 @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp

[cher-rei]

27 w trent :)

date night [ T.A.A ]

I like the way you stare into my eyes [soren– beabadoobee]

pairing: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: date night? but on a baking show? and he's flirting with you?

genre(s): flufffffff

[wc: 1.9k]

notes: my little take on lando's chicken shop date a few months ago xxx

baking up chemisty: date night. that was this evening's episode and you were all too excited because of the guest that the director was able to reach out to. you'd had your fair share of football players on the show and it was so much fun.

it was a fan favourite to have you bring out a different side to the usual personal football players put up on camera, so it was highly requested. just last week you baked a horrible excuse for a lava cake with marcus rashford which was all too fun.

not too long after the episode aired, twitter was blowing up over the interaction and thanking you for having him as a guest wherein fact it should be the other way around. viewers loved that you didn't shy away from any of your guests and praised you for the chemistry you tended to have with them instead of keeping it formal.

so when the guest of this week's episode was announced, you bet that the show had a trending hashtag again.

you stood in front of the camera, behind the counter of the kitchen-styled set that felt so close to home. you accounted for all the ingredients on the counter one last time before it was quiet on set, everyone's eyes on the director.

"action."

"good evening everyone." a smile set on your lips, "and welcome back to 'date night'!"

from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of this evening's guest who had you feeling a little more nervous than usual. "tonight, we have a very special guest joining us, a football star known for his skills on the field and his charm off it."

a hearty chuckle came from him off-camera that sent your heart leaping but your eyes remained on the camera. "and before anyone asks–" you sighed in mock disappointment. "no, it isn't mason mount. trust me, I tried."

behind the camera once again, there were a few laughs that lightened the mood of the studio. that's what you loved most about it– the atmosphere and how there wasn't a set script. when you were hired, your director, lewis shaw, gave you one clear instruction– "go with the flow."

and that's exactly what you found yourself doing for every shoot. having genuine conversations with your guests and keeping the atmosphere lighthearted and entertaining. it helped a great deal in making it less suffocating, and more rewarding.

which is why you loved your job so much, being a presenter was one thing. but being given the freedom to do as pleased as long as you do it well was a privilege.

"please welcome trent alexander-arnold!"

the studio was filled with cheer as they greeted the right back as he made his way beside you, adorning a bashful smile and the two of you exchanged a friendly hug that you tried to keep as professional as possible.

after the formalities were set aside it was time to properly start with the segment, and to do so you quickly grabbed something from one of the cabinets and handed it to trent who was more than familiar with what was in the box.

he mocked a gasp and delicately held up the black apron. it wasn't just plain, however, on the right pocket side there was your name and his embroidered beneath it with a heart.

"I've never felt so special my entire life," he said teasingly. "I can't believe I have matching aprons with everyone who was on this show."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his comment. it was customary that everyone got an apron with a similar design, only with their name on it. you shook your head to the side and bit back your smile as you looked at him. "yours is different though."

trent cocked his head to the side amused. "oh really?"

you gestured to the apron, "there's a heart on yours, and–" you fished something else from the cabinet and held it up proudly, "we're matching. you're the only guest I have matching aprons with."

a chuckle left his lips once again and you felt something tug at your heart. he was standing beside you so casually, amused by an apron and your quips and you couldn't help but wonder what it looked like from the viewers' perspective.

soon after you were done putting your aprons on, you began with the interview part. eager questions and playful answers leaving your mouths as if it were just the two of you in the studio. " I have to ask. have you any experience in the kitchen? this is a safe space, don't worry."

he looked down at the rolling pin in his hands and gave a lopsided smile. " I'm afraid not. I'm more comfortable on the pitch than I am with a rolling pin."

it was your turn to laugh, your hands absentmindedly adding the dry ingredients into the bowl while trent passed them on. "I mean we're only baking chocolate chip cookies. I'm sure you'll be fine."

he leant in a bit closer, watching carefully as you measured the amount of baking powder to add in. "chocolate chip cookies are actually a favourite in my family. a close friend of mine once baked a batch for a family movie night and ever since then my mum and brothers see it as an essential when she comes over."

a flush of pink rose to your cheeks instantly but you tried to play it off and cleared your throat. "wow she must be really good then."

trent shrugged his shoulders with a flick of mischief in his eyes. "she's okay I guess."

you glared at him from the corner of your eye and handed the bowl to trent so that he could put it in the mixer with the slow adding of the wet ingredients. "well then, what's your idea of the perfect date?"

you listened as he hummed in thought, adding to the whir of the mixer until it was done.

"I think just spending your time with someone special you know? it doesn't have to be anything fancy. just good company and good conversation."

his answer prompted you to nod in agreement. "I'm heavy on the good company part."

the space between the two of you decreased immensely, as you were now standing flush against his side while gathering the batter and putting it onto the cooking tray.

"oh really?" he questioned suddenly which caught you off guard. "what do you look for in a partner?"

your head quipped to look at him with your eyebrows raised but he innocently continued with putting the batter down. a scoff left your lips. "I'm supposed to be interviewing you right now."

"interview?" he asked and spared you a quick glance. "I thought this was a date, love."

you froze in your spot, unable to fully comprehend what was happening because all you wanted to do was wipe that smile off his face. but you had to carry on. once again you found yourself clearing your throat, watching as trent took the initiative to put the tray in the oven.

"well then?" he asked.

"I'm not picky." you walked over to the sink and put some soap on your hands while he did the same. "just someone genuine and passionate. I need to feel loved, not just be in love. and how about you?"

a low hum echoed from beside you and he put on the tap and rinsed the soap from them. he locked eyes with you and grinned, "someone who can keep up with me, both on and off the pitch. and maybe someone who can bake a decent batch of cookies."

you playfully rolled your eyes. "well I think most people can manage that. so, what do you value most?"

unlike yours at the moment, trent's expression softened and before you knew it your hands were in his beneath the running tap, lukewarm water having no match for the feeling of his hands on yours.

"honesty and trust," he looked up at you with his nose scrunched. "and a sense of humour never hurts."

you looked up at him with your eyes slightly squinted, sharing a moment of silent communication, but I know something that will.

not too long after, the episode wrapped up and you bid your goodbye to the viewers until next week, while also thanking trent for joining you for the evening.

he was more than delighted to be as modest as he could and waved it off with a, "the pleasures all mine. we should really do this again sometime."

it took a lot for you not to roll your eyes at him but you remained professional until you heard the director yell, "and cut! that's a wrap, well done, everyone!"

at that. your shoulders relaxed with a heavy sigh. this was by far the most stressful episode that you'd ever filmed, which completely went against your original statement.

you watched as the rest of the camera crew flooded to the break room, leaving you and trent alone on set. when it was all clear you turned to look at him with your lips pursed.

"one job. you had one job," you said blatantly but he couldn't suppress his smile, his hand instinctively finding yours on the kitchen counter and putting it in his.

your eyes bored into his, the sound of a familiar laugh leaving his lips before ge placed a gentle kiss on your hand. "you wanted chemistry and I gave you chemistry. I think I did my job very well actually."

"oh really?" you quipped sarcastically but that wasn't enough to get at him, in fact it only amused him even more.

the space between you lessened in a matter of seconds, his hands were now draped around your waist and slowly reaching for the back of your apron that was still on. he nodded in agreement and continued to gently untie your apron.

"but what did you expect?" he asked again and placed it on the counter. "how was I supposed to act natural around you? you're literally my girlfriend, so this is natural for me."

you couldn't bite back your smile anymore, not with the excited gleam in his eyes. "but you could've toned it down a bit, trent."

his eyes widened slightly and a quick peck was placed on your cheek. "tone it down?" he shook his head at your response, saying that he was being way too obvious but he didn't care. you'd been together for nearly 3 years, so he'd be more than delighted to have people finally find out.

"and miss the opportunity to tease you like this? baby you were an absolute blushing mess and I enjoyed every single moment."

no way you were blushing that much. you refused to believe it, and said that it was just his way of trying to embarrass you right now. you pulled away from his grasp and began to pack up your things, your boyfriends loving gaze watching you as you complained about his behavior.

he wasn't really paying attention, but he loved seeing how riled up you were and considered this as payback for every single day that you've been together that you've had him blushing like an idiot. it was only fair that he got you back eventually.

"I really wished that we had mason mount on today," you muttered and his smile immediately dropped.

"woah there," he interjected in disapproval and you turned to look at him with your arms crossed. "but we had fun today!"

"yeah but I would've had fun with mason too."

"incorrect."

your eyebrows raised at trent's sudden quip, "you can't just say--"

"wrong," he interrupted again with a smile, watching you from the other side of the counter."

you shook your head to the side as he made his way to your side, the same cheeky smile plastered on his face. "you're such a child I swear."

he hummed contently and took your bag, using his free hand to hold yours as he usually did. you felt another jolt in your stomach, the swarm of butterflies only worsening when trent pressed a light kiss to your temple. "it takes one to know one, love."

[totalswag]

can i request rafe x fwb reader where reader finds out hes dating sofia and she goes to confront him that he didnt even have the decency to let her know their arrangement was over and he says "who said it was over?''

stuck in the middle - RAFE CAMERON

authors note as you guys may notice i'm finally publishing requests that you guys sent me. super sorry this was very late to publish. i hope you like what i wrote and it was what you hoped. so, thank you for sending this requests.

requests are still open so feel free to send them my way and i will get to them and put them into my docs :) if you click on the bold red ink it will take you to my ask box lovies!!!

summary you find out through people and social media sofia and rafe are together. you go to confront rafe about this since he never thought to tell you that your arrangement was over.

warnings friends with benefits, mentions of sex, cursing

Lately, you've been having this weird gut feeling in your stomach. No idea what the meaning behind it means but you want to find out what it could be. You started feeling this way whenever you were with Rafe on a random Wednesday.

Rafe and you have been friends with benefits for about three months now. When you two came to this agreement, you agreed that it was solely for your sexual pleasures and not to establish feelings for each other, and that the most important thing was to let each other know if one of you became serious with someone else so that the bargain could be broken off.

You overheard a rumor at a party this past Friday about Rafe and Sofia being together for a month. You couldn't believe your ears and wanted to vomit. Sofia works at the island's country club, and Rafe visits it from time to time.

The next day, you decided to do some research to be sure this was accurate. Even as you looked at her Instagram, the emotion returned. You checked her story highlights and discovered what you were looking for. Your stomach sank.

She had a couple pictures on her highlights that you knew were of Rafe, including one with his right hand on her thigh in his car and another with his back to her as he looks out into the distance. Based on what you discovered, they appeared serious.

What made you upset was the fact Rafe and you have been seeing each other for three months which meant he'd been with Sofia for who knows how long before he asked her to be his girlfriend.

"Why didn't he tell me?" You asked yourself, setting down your phone and running your hands through your hair, upset that you found out at random person at a party.

There's a part of you that doesn't want Rafe to be with Sofia. There's a part of you that wants him all to yourself. Regardless, he should've told you the arrangement was over.

That was the deal.

After thinking about what you should do, you decide you are confronting Rafe about this, tonight. You are gonna make it seem like you want to hookup but really you are telling him what you found out.

you- are you busy tonight? i wanna see you

rafe- funny you say that because i wanna see you too

rafe- meet me at the spot at 9pm.

"I'll be back in an hour or so," you tell your mom as you go past the living room, holding your keys. "I'm going to hang out with Samantha."

"That's fine, sweetie; please stay safe tonight, I love you," your mother adds, smiling.

When you get to the spot you see Rafe sitting in his car on his phone. You parked your car next to him so he knows it's you- when he sees you get out, he unlocks the car.

You sigh casually as you sit in the passenger seat.

Rafe says smiling "Hey pretty girl" in a tone that makes you weak in the knees, leaning over the center console to kiss you but you pull back.

"We need to have a little chat, Rafe," maintaining eye contact.

His smile fades, and he looks at you, puzzled, "What do you mean?" His response indicated that he was nervous or knew what was going to happen.

"Why didn't you tell me you and Sofia were together, Rafe? You never once said to my face, "Y/N, we can no longer meet up like this anymore because I have a girlfriend now," mimicking Rafe's voice, "we've been hooking up this entire time while you've been in this relationship that I had no idea about until I heard someone talking about it," you explain frustratedly in your voice and expressions.

In the midst of your rant towards him, he places his hand over his lips, chuckles, shakes his head, and looks down at his lap.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" You ask, folding your arms, leaning back against the passenger door, annoyed.

He glances up from his lap, licks his bottom lip, and smirks: "Who said it was over?"

Before you could respond his lips were already on yours.

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[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 2

Part 2:

Tashi Duncan was a force. Everyone knew it. Everywhere Tashi went, a crowd of people gathered, seeking some form of contact with her. A brief conversation about her day, their day, the fucking weather. Just so they could say they talked to the Tashi Duncan. Liana hated her. She didn't hate her personally; she hated the fact that even at Stanford, everything revolved around tennis, and accordingly, everything revolved around Art Donaldson and his blonde curls. Art, who showed up at her dorm at unreasonable hours with a box of fries he didn't even eat but knew she liked, Art, who was at every party she attended, Art, who wouldn't stop babbling about Tashi Duncan. "Look, I just think she's not the right girl for him..." Right now, Art was lying on her bed, bouncing a ball while she was trying to finish a paper for her Intro to Economics class. "I don't understand why you're here..." she mumbled in response. Somewhere in the second week at Stanford, she had stopped fighting his presence. He refused to let go. Every scowl she sent his way only encouraged him to do stupid things like waiting for her after class to walk her to the cafeteria or calling her mom and casually asking if she knew why Liana stopped coming to his open practices (she never attended his practices anyway, the little shit was an unbearable liar who made her mom talk for half an hour about how you can't neglect friendships like the imaginary one between her and Art). "Because you didn't come to practice today. Again." He looked at her. "Are you back with James?" he asked casually. "You know his name is Jake," she rolled her eyes, realizing she'd been reading the same line for fifteen minutes and deciding to close her laptop. "Are you sure?" he asked with a half-smile, pleased that for the first time that evening, he had her attention. "Why do you care that Patrick and Tashi are together?" she asked. "I don't care. I just know Patrick, and you know Patrick-" "Do I?" she cut him off, causing him to squint for a second. "You know Patrick well enough to know how he treats girls. He doesn't take them seriously, and now he's with Tashi. He's going to mess her up and ruin her season." He shrugged, as if it was the most logical thing anyone had ever thought about his best friend. "Aren't you supposed to worry about Patrick's season, Art? Like the good friend you are?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Everything felt too charged with tension she couldn't figure out. "You didn't answer me about James. Are you back with him? He's kind of a loser," he changed the subject, not taking his eyes off her. "You're kind of a loser. Sitting in my room and whining about your best friend dating the most beautiful girl you've ever seen. Get over your crush and move on. Use your blonde hair to find a hookup instead of bothering me while I'm studying." She turned her back to him and opened her laptop again. "And no, I'm not back with Jake," she concluded the topic, not wanting to reopen the wound of that relationship. Certainly not with Art Donaldson, who had started moving towards the door, finally getting the hint.

Liana put Patrick on speaker while she searched for her earrings. She had promised Daria (the only friend she had managed to find so far) that she would go out with her to the bar across from the university, and they would try out their fake IDs. Liana was sure no one would believe she was 21, no matter how revealing the dress Daria forced her to wear, how much makeup she put on, or how high the heels she wore were. No one with eyes would believe she was old enough to buy alcohol. "The referee kept making mistakes. I think Marcus paid him off. His dad probably promised the guy a new Aston Martin if I lost." Patrick, who had been complaining for the last ten minutes about the terrible game he had today, continued talking while she tried to apply lipstick as straight as possible. "I don't know much about tennis, but that sounds exaggerated, Pat." Liana didn't know what to say to cheer him up. The truth was that since the season started and Patrick decided he was pursuing professional tennis, Liana didn't know how to support him. "I'm telling you, something was off there." He spoke, maybe to her, maybe trying to convince himself. "I think you should call Tashi or Art. they would understand better than me what went wrong..." she said, wiping off the lipstick, the bright color felt too much. Like she was trying too hard to draw attention to herself to show everyone she was pretending to be an adult. "Oh, if you think Tashi hasn't already called me and told me everything I did wrong in that game while reminding me of all the mistakes from the previous game, you're wrong." He answered. She recognized the bitterness in his voice. "That sounds like a healthy relationship. you should write a book." She tried to lighten the mood, again not knowing how to help him. She didn't know Tashi, only heard stories about her, and currently, they weren't great. "Art will just keep saying I should have taken the Stanford scholarship like him and be with you guys in the beautiful college bubble, drinking beer from a keg." He continued, ignoring the jab about his relationship. "Imagine how much fun you could have had with me at Stanford, Pat. I'm on my way to use my fake ID at a bar. In heels and everything." Liana tried to do everything she could to steer the conversation away from tennis. "Whoa, Liana Levi, breaking the law. Who would have believed we'd reach this moment? What's your fake name?" he laughed, which made Liana smile. Something about hearing Patrick so broken felt wrong to her. It didn't fit the curly-haired boy who always tried to make her laugh and include her in everything he did when she was around. "Amanda Jacobs," she replied. Silence fell on the line. "Amanda Jacobs like Amanda James who went to boarding school with me and Art?" Patrick asked, and she could hear the octaves in his voice change. She already knew he wouldn't let this go. "I had to come up with something on the spot. I panicked," she defended herself as his laughter slowly became the only thing she could hear. He couldn't see her right now, but it made her smile even more, even though it was at her expense. "Alright, Amanda, don't drink and drive. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He said after he calmed down. "Okay, Dad." She rolled her eyes. "You know I love it when you call me-" he couldn't finish the sentence because she hung up.

Art was sitting on her bed when she came back from the bar. Not only had her fake ID worked, but the bartender had also been hitting on Daria all night, so he kept pouring them free shots. It was safe to say Liana had never drunk that much alcohol in her life. "Am I imagining you?" she asked with utter seriousness. "What? No. I was waiting for you." He looked confused. "Are you drunk?" he asked the obvious while Liana tried to take off one of her heels and almost fell, causing Art to quickly get up and stand next to her so she could lean on him. "How did you get in here, Arthur?" she put her hands on her hips, causing him to look at her and flash his most charming smile. The kind that made all the girls melt. "Your dad gave me a key for emergencies," he said, without taking his eyes off her as he sat back on the bed and she approached him with clumsy steps, a little disappointed that taking off the heels didn't help her stability much. "Do you want to sit?" his tone was amused. He had never seen Liana so drunk. Almost every summer, they managed to sneak a few beers when Patrick came to visit. But it was never serious. "My dad gave you a key? You realize that's not normal, right? We need to talk about boundaries, Donaldson," she turned her head to him while he was already looking at her, just inches separating them as they sat next to each other on the bed. "Patrick told me you were going to a bar, something about a fake ID? wanted to see if you're ok" he said, not moving. A little afraid she'll be the one who suddenly moves away. He couldn't remember the last time Liana was this close to him. He didn't think she would ever get this close to him again. "Patrick is a snitch, and I'm not telling him anything anymore," she sighed and threw herself on the bed dramatically, spreading her arms, causing Art to do the same and land on her arm, closer than she would tolerate any other day. "I can't believe you didn't invite me. I'm disappointed," he tried to sound amused, but he was genuinely disappointed. By this point, he was sure she understood they were friends, that they were connected by such a strong bond that he sometimes doubted if he could ever unravel it. If he even wanted to unravel it. He just didn't understand how, while he saw her so clearly, she didn't see him at all. Sometimes he wondered if she even knew his name. Then he would see her in the crowd at one of his games, and the world calmed down; he always won when she was there. "You don't drink anyway," she noted quietly. The fatigue started to overcome her, and Liana's eyes closed on their own. "Hey, I do drink," he defended himself, even though they both knew he was lying. He tried to maintain his diet as correctly as possible, as fitting as possible for his athletic lifestyle. "I think Patrick is sad," she suddenly said, and Art felt his heart beating quickly. "How do you know?" he asked in a quiet, almost defeated voice. "Because when I talk to him, I'm sad too."

sooo, here's the second part. I think we're getting somewhere, but it's going to be a slow burn, so stick with me, I guess. I'm kinda clueless as to if you like it or not, so feel free to tell me what you're thinking ❤️

[milaisreading]

i wonder what would happen if the world 5 were to meet the ex husband/fiance

🌱🩷: HERE U GOOOO!! Took me a good minute to finish this😭 thanks for the request!

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

It was a semi-normal day in (Y/n)'s life. Well, as normal as it could be now that Ego had left her to supervise the World 5 around Tokyo. After days of begging and pleading from Pablo's side, Ego and their managers approved of them going on a small spree around Japan's capital. (Y/n) was dragged into this by Loki, although the boy meant all the best, she still would have rather stayed in the warm facility than walking around cold Tokyo. But, she couldn't complain much either, she got a paid day off!

'Well, at least they get to relax today. Ego-san can be really tyrannical with pros as well.' The woman chuckled nervously as she watched them look around the market while she drank the hot chocolate, then looked back to where Loki was.

"What do you have there?" (Y/n) asked the teen, who was holding a box with some anime prints.

"It's a figurine from a show I used to watch when I was still in elementary school! I can't believe I actually found this!" Loki said excitedly, causing (Y/n) to smile in endearment.

'Prodigy or not, he is still a kid. He reminds me a lot of Niko when he behaves like this.' She thought, watching as the boy took out his wallet to pay to the salesman. The woman quickly sprung into action and followed after him.

"Wait. Let me do the talking."

"Huh? Why?" Loki wondered as the woman moved closer to him, keeping the same smile on her face. Although, it looked a little bit tense.

"We are at a local market here, Loki-kun. And people here will charge you more if they hear you speak English to them."

Loki blinked at her.

"Why would anyone do that? I am sure that's just a rumor."

"Oh my sweet summer child." (Y/n) sighed dramatically and pat his head.

"Just stick by me in this one."

"But, what about them? They would be in the same boat as I am." (Y/n) looked over at the 4 adults Loki was pointing at, who were looking at the different souvenirs the salespeople were offering them.

"I will deal with that as well. For now, you are more important since you are a child."

(Y/n) hummed a little and took the box out of Loki's hands, the boy quickly following after her.

Nearby, an unfamiliar man stared at (Y/n) in surprise, face going pale like he saw a ghost.

'(Y/n)... Am I seeing things?! Is that really her?'

----

"What do you have there?" Adam raised an eyebrow as he saw Luna hold a bag, peaking inside, he saw it was a (f/c) bear.

"A plush toy? I didn't take you to like stuff like that." Adam teased the blonde, who glared at him while trying to fight down a blush. The Spaniard looked down at the bag the Brit was holding, only to find a (f/c), stuffed dog.

"Shut it. It isn't for me- And you have one as well!"

"What isn't for you?" Pablo raised an eyebrow while holding 2 bigger Hello kitty dolls. This sight didn't surprise the two, knowing how much the Argentinian liked cute things, or whatever he deemed cute.

"Shouldn't we go and look for (Y/n) and Loki? We really went further away from them than we should have." Silva argued, interrupting their talk for a moment.

"And why do you have a stuffed animal?"

The three pros wondered as the saw the Brazilian holding a (f/c) dolphin plushie.

"I bought this for (Y/n). She said she likes these things to collect." Silva explained simply, not giving his words much of a thought.

"What? No, you can't do that!" Adam and Luna yelled as some of the passerbys sent them confused looks.

"And why not?"

"Because... I got her that already. And,I did if first, so you pick something else." Adam said proudly, earning glare from Luna and Silva now.

"Since when do you make the rules here? And I got her a plush as well. A much better one." Luna smirked as the other two protested. Pablo, growing annoyed cleared his throat, catching the attention of the three.

"All of you get some petty little plushies for her-"

"Hey!"

"Pablo, they are not!"

"Who died and made you king?"

The Argentinian ignored all three and pointed at the two Hello kitty plushies he was holding.

"I, on the other hand bough a plushie for her and myself. Hello kitty ones. The ones couples buy for each other."

Pablo smirked when he saw their faces turn redder in anger, but before anyone could say anything, Loki ran towards them.

"Thank God I found you guys. I need your help." Loki panted as he stopped running, the anger the trio felt got replaced by confusion.

"Why are you running?" Adam wondered.

"And where is (Y/n)? Don't tell me you left her alone and defenseless." Silva wondered as Loki sweatdropped.

"Calm down, she is fine.... Somewhat."

"Somewhat?" Luna raised an eyebrow.

"And why did you put the translators on?" Pablo wondered.

"I needed them. Listen, there is a guy talking to (Y/n) right now, and as far as I got he wants her to come home with him? I don't know, but they seem to know each other-"

Loki stopped talking as he noticed the blank looks on their faces, regretting he blurted it out like that.

'Shit...' The French boy thought as Luna cleared his throat.

"Ok. Hold this. I will handle it. Where is she?" The Spaniard gave Loki the bag he was holding as the player pointed in the direction he came from.

"Dowm there. At the entrance of the market."

"Ok." The cold tone in Luna's voice scared Loki even more as he watched the Spaniard put on the earbuds Ego gave them.

"I will come with you." Silva said, handing the plush to Loki and following after Luna.

'I never saw him frown like that! Scary!' Loki shuddered, as the other two gave him their items before following after the two, not saying anything.

'I will kick that guy's ass.' Adam thought, keeping his anger in check as Pablo pouted, equally mad.

'Some guy wants to take her home? The hell?!'

---

Meanwhile, (Y/n) was trying to find any possible way out of talking to the man who previously spotted her. Who was her former fiancé. The woman was basically at her wits end by now, with him not being able to take a no, and now Loki being gone.

'What do I do now? I couldn't have lost him, right?' She tried to excuse herself, but the man quickly grabbed her hand.

"What now?" (Y/n) asked, sounding annoyed as she looked back at him.

"Come on, please. I know I messed up. But, I am really sorry. Can't you reconsider your answer?" The man asked, tightening his grip around her wrist. The woman flinched a little, not wanting to cause a scene, especially with how popular Blue lock was getting, they didn't need unnecessary press.

"No. I don't love you anymore, and you don't love me either."

"I do love you. I really want you back."

"You had me at one point, but you lost me the moment you cheated. I really wish I didn't buy that wedding dress if I knew."

The man sighed, looking annoyed that she brought it up. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, finally tugging her hand out of his grip and backing away.

"Hey wait." The man said, about to grab her hand again.

"I think that's enough." Luna's voice surprised both of them, especially the man since it was in English.

"Huh?" She blinked as Luna pushed him away, quite harshly if she could say so.

Pablo and Adam quickly pulled her behind Silva.

"Where did you guys come from?" (Y/n) asked in surprise and confusion, thinking that they may have already left the market grounds, and not expecting them to be at the entrance again.

"Don't worry about us. We are here to take care of this asshole for you." Pablo said as he joined in on Silva and Luna berating the man in English and in their native languages.

"It's fine. You don't have to put your reputation at risk here." (Y/n) quickly said as she tried to calm everyone down, but it fell on deaf ears.

"No need to worry about us. We will take care of the creep very fast." Adam sent her a smile before joining the rest. The woman heard footsteps behind her and quickly turned around thinking it was the police, only to find Loki holding a bunch of plushies.

"I am so sorry for leaving you alone like that. Is the creep gone?" Loki said apologetically as he looked at the group and then back at (Y/n).

"He isn't a creep, I think so. And don't apologize. I wasn't in any danger." She tried to calm the boy down.

"Not in danger? But, a random man asked you to come to his home. That's creepy."

The woman chuckled a little, not noticing that the 4 men had stopped talking to look at her.

"While he is annoying, he isn't a random man. He is my ex-fiancé."

The 4 men tensed up while the ex gulped as he felt Silva's grip around his arm tighten.

'Ex... Ex-fiancé?! This loser?! He doesn't look like he could take care of a fenced-in herd of sheep, let alone get married to (Y/n) of all people!' Luna thought in disbelief as he looked at her and then the ex.

'This is a joke, right? No way did this ugly man ever date her. She must have been brainwashed into liking him.' Pablo sent the man a glare, which caused him to flinch a little.

'This ant dated her? Was supposed to get married to her? He looks like he struggles with the basic tasks.' Silva hummed, his anger flaring up even more.

'My cute (Y/n) did so much charity work with this one. Good thing she left that behind.' Adam internally sobbed as he glared at the man as well. Even Loki was a little baffled by that revelation.

"Really? I never knew that."

"Well I never really mention him for reasons."

"Reasons?" Loki asked in genuine curiosity as the four listened in.

"Yeah, he kinda found a new woman a month before our wedding." (Y/n) chuckled nervously, unaware of the mayhem of emotions the other 4 men felt.

"So... You cheated?" Adam wondered out loud, looking back at the man, who understood a decent amount of English.

"It's not like that. We just didn't see eye to eye-"

"So you ran off to another woman? While you had someone like (Y/n)?" Silva asked in disbelief as Luna sent him a sarcastic smile.

"Well, at least she got rid of this deadweight."

"I can't believe the amount of audacity..." Pablo blinked in confusion as (Y/n) continued to call out to them to leave him alone.

"I don't think they hear you..." Loki said, getting out of his own shock.

"I can see that... I will go and solve it, you stay here."

(Y/n) told the youngest and walked up to the group to talk some sense into them.

'He.. cheated on her?! What in the world?' Loki wondered.

[thesamoanqueen]

Onlyfans

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut.

A/N: this one-shot showed up in my mind because of John Cena and me thinking impossible possibilities.

He usually bring it with him all the time, but at home he paid no attention. He had left it on the table to go and do something when the first notification had arrived. Y/N hadn't even looked up from her laptop, too busy with the program sent from Stamford the previous evening and which she was reviewing as always before sending it back to the office. Two minutes had passed and another notification had arrived. Roman hadn't shown up then either, but when the third had been followed by a fourth, Y/N had held out her hand with a sigh. She didn't want to pry, she didn't even want to know, she justs cared about making that sound stop to work in peace and let Roman know of whoever had that urgency to talk to him.

What had appeared on the screen, however, had made her put the laptop aside without thinking twice, pushing her to get up and find out what the hell was that stuff.

She couldn't believe her eyes, it was crazy.

When she found him, he was busy with a box full of old fitness equipments, smile ready as soon as she came into his sight.

- Hey gorgeous – he greeted her and Y/N stopped to look at him, her perfect handsome man.

- Is there something you want to tell me? – she asked, holding back to give him a chance.

Roman froze completely, his gaze serious, back straight.

- whats up? – she heard him ask, pretending he didn’t know or maybe not knowing for real, Y/N at that point was not sure anymore.

- I don't know, should I?! – she immediately echoed him, refusing to prolong that game to place his phone in front of him, the message he had received still open.

Leaving aside what were their habits as a couple, habits that had never displeased either of them as far as she knew, they had established from the first moment they would discuss everything, to be open-minded and fair with their feelings. They had been on a verge of a breakup because of an unspoken nonsense, they had learned from the past and since that moment there had been nothing they hadn't shared, bad moods, doubts, problems, fears. She trusted him, she wasn't obsessed with knowing what, where or who he was with, not even knowing what revolved around him and was proposed to him before, it had never even crossed her mind. She had chosen a man, a good real man, one who wanted a family, with no fear about serious relationship and without warning now she found out an Onlyfans notification on his phone? At home? While she was there working?!

- I didn't mean to watch, there could be anything in there, whatever, but here Ro? For real? and honestly If you have a reason or not, I thought we were better than this- she said, unable to hold back any longer and immediately saw his expression change, an amused smile replacing his worried expression.

- Babygirl, slow down. We got no problem, there's nothing in there I want, trust me. I don't care about that stuff, its shit, I’d never do it when I’ve you – he winked, trying to pull her into a hug, but more he laughed more she tensed.

- ‘kay then what?!

- You know, John did it, an account… boys at work were joking, saying that I should make one too. Locker room chatter, bullshit, sometimes they still get me involved.

Surprised, she looked at him speechless, turmoil quickly slipping away, while his information created a strangely valid picture in her mind about possibilities.

John was a funny dude, strange at times and that stunt had actually made the news. She had seen some clips online, nothing R-rated as one might imagine, but she hadn't connected the two things. And she had never even thought that someone might have thought of doing it, even though she knew of Roman's fame among the fans, rumors, fantasies and the whole package on the most unlikely platforms. In some way it was her job to know what people thought about wwe’s top guy and she played with it to for promotion.

- A real onlyfans – she repeated flatly, staring at him and he gave her one of his billion dollar smiles.

- I'm quite successful, it might work – he joked and she reflexively batted her eyelashes, unable to control herself because yes, he was damn right.

People went absolutely crazy for a few well planted cameras shots, a couple of hits not so family friendly in his ring promos and that salt and pepper in his beard, a video or an entire onlyfans account would not have been simply successful, would have unleashed the apocalypse into the wrestling community. During the production phase, behind the scenes, she too had relied on certain shots, specific set-ups, because she knew they would work. There were things that she too was obsessed with despite having him as her in real life partner. If Roman would have really decided to do it, something direct, focused, if he didn't hold back…

The thought made her turn around, going back without another word.

-Y/N – Roman called her, trying to hold her, but she didn't let him do it, quickly marching towards the front door closet where she kept her purse always ready.

She knew Roman had followed her, sensing heavy footsteps behind her as she walked through the house, but when she finally started to reach for what she needed, his hand tightened around her wrist, physically stopping her from doing anything. He gave her a deadly serious look, his gaze dark as she broke free.

- Y/N it was a bad joke, ain’t gonna happen, don't take it that far – he reasoned, standing there as if no one could move him, searching her eyes.

Those brown eyes that would have made anyone's knees tremble, that had made her tremble too an infinite number of times and for the most absurd reasons, at the right times and not, everywhere, always, from the first moment, without exceptions and that now she saw slowly widen, confused, as she handed him what she had taken out of her jacquemus.

-Here – she offered, her personal credit card ready.

Roman stared at it stunned and Y/N knew she had caught him off guard, because that card never left her purse if he was around, he didn't like when it happened even though she was proudly independent he liked to play the role of her provider. With a deep breath, seeing him froze, she decided to take out the second one, adding it to the first and moving closer to slip them into his pocket.

- Let’s say you can have both, but the show is exclusive – she specified, as if they were really in a negotiation and at that last hint she felt him suddenly explode into laughter.

He throw his head back, perfect teeth showing, eyes crinkling, making every inch of his chiseled face smile.

- Someone woke up possessive – he pinched her when he was finally able to speak again and Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, letting him have that little win.

He didn’t like if someone was too close to her, if someone stared in a way or another, when they hadn't yet been in an official relationship Y/N had witnessed scenes of pure testosterone that would have made anyone run and even today he showed no signs of loosening his grip. She had found the notification of a site notoriously inclined towards certain ratings, messages with it, she hadn't worked entirely on her imagination, but were clearly details his ego ignored, too happy to have caught her.

-If your intention is to keep laughing, I'll take them back – she stopped him, stretching out her hand again to retrieve them, but as soon as she took them off, Roman grabbed her wrist.

- For you the show is free, just ask ma'am

His voice was velvetly soft, as was the touch of his thumb stroking her caramel skin. With eyes fixed on hers, she couldn't hold back a smile, seeing Roman return it immediately when he pushed her against the door.

- Then show me sir – she whispered and he twisted his head, making her giggle before lifting her up.

With legs wrapped around his hips, he carried her to the couch to place her between cushions like a precious thing, a rebellious lock hanging out of the bun. He stood there waiting, hands placed next to her, but deliberately not where he should, his whole body close, but not close enough and for a moment Y/N did nothing but admire him.

He was a charming man, the kind of man who captured attention even without anything special or fancy, he made her hands itch and her stomach flutter like the first time she had touched him and she had no longer been able to let him go. It wasn't just the appearance, but rather his attitude, his attentions, they were a drug, they were addictive and the idea of having them all to herself, having him when out there people would do anything to have a crumb of what she had, it made her feel special, in charge.

-You're playing a dangerous game – he warned her, eyes hovering over her full lips.

-Im pretty sure I can handle it – she replied, her breathing slowing as she saw him bend more.

-I know exactly what you can handle babygirl – he touched her with his nose, with that lock and Y/N felt the taste of him on her, even if Roman had kept himself at a sufficient distance not to kiss her.

From the couch, Y/N watched as he straightened up and grabbed the hem of his tank to pull it up. Her eyes went hopelessly down his body, looking in religious silence at every inch of his torso, as he undressed with unnatural calm. She watched the abs pop out even without oil to accentuate them, broad pecs, dark tattoo that stood out against tanned skin, those lines that she drew with her fingers whenever she could. And then the arms, bent to pass the shirt beyond his neck to which she used to cling, those arms that she scratched as if her very life depended on them, capable of hurting and carrying her around effortlessly, shaped by years of practice and dedication. Her pulse racing, she saw him turn to put away his shirt, showing her his broad back, his sculpted shoulders as he rolled them back to face her and let his hair down. She watched Roman run his long fingers through the messy locks, trying to fix them during that impromptu striptease in the living room, in broad daylight and anything could have happened, someone even broke into the house and Y/N would not have flinched, focused as she was on him.

He was slow, unnerving. What she would do quickly, throwing everything away, he did in slow motion, to push her desire, make her savor everything, drive her completly crazy. Every gesture seemed to require effort, every action was like a ritual, a video wouldn't have done him justice, he was directing a movie and she was the spectator unable to distract herself while his fingers loosened the knot of his shorts to make them hang on the hips. Enraptured, she followed his usually hidden v, focusing on the portion of skin he was revealing and that left no doubt about what was down there. Concentrated, she clenched her legs without hiding, heartbeat racing as he fill the space between them, a dangerous intense shadow on his eyes that made Y/N hold her breath.

- Why you so silent now sweetheart? – he asked, stopping a step away from her, looking down and Y/N raised her head, body tingling as she felt him tower above her.

-Im ejoying it… no words needed – she breathed innocently, reaching out a hand tentatively and Roman bent over once again following the wandering of fingers playing with his lace, tongue running on his lips.

- Hmm no, I think we need a reaction… feedbacks you know, for that onlyfans stuff

His voice, breathing caused another series of shocks through her, the desire to crash her mouth against him, suffocate in one of their kisses, feel his big hands ravaging her now almost unbearable. Roman locked her wrist once more, his grip hard enough to make Y/N throb where she was probably already a mess, preventing her from exploring more than she should, eyes going back into hers, digging, guiding her where he wanted, only where he let them.

-Its good – she admitted without rebelling, unable to concentrate on anything than those two brown pools that seemed to swallow her.

- Just that? – he asked, pinching her face with his hair and Y/N tilted her head, intercepting the trajectory of his lips with greed.

-More than good – she mewed, leaning forward and feeling him guide her to his erection, never breaking eye contact, avid more than ever on having her undivided attention.

- Not enough for me

Under her fingers, Y/N felt his boner awake, hard and she risked something more, a more intense touch, hoping to convince Roman to let her do something, but it lasted just a moment and he pushed her away, standing up straight again to do it himself. Y/N knew what to expect, she knew what Roman was hiding, and yet when he lowered his pants enough to release his erection and took it into his hand, Y/N couldn't hold back a gasp to the mere sigh of his delicious flesh. She saw him so proud, spit obscenely and his smile quickly turn into an arrogant grin enjoying his attentions in front of her who was now struggling to stay still.

Was the kind of show she was sure many people would sell their souls along with their houses for and that even her, despite knowing Roman's abilities, couldn't say was immune. She wasn't immune at all honestly and when he curled his mouth, carried away by the increasing euphoria, eyes still fixed on her, letting go an excited growl, Y/N jumped on her knees.

-Gawd com’here– she moaned sulkily before crashing her lips on him and Roman laughed at her kissing, his hand finally leaving his now tense erection to keep himself balanced.

-That's a feedback – he approved, watching her quickly undress beneath him.

And Y/N might have replied but her body was begging her to put an end to that game, get some relief and before Roman could decide otherwise just for playing around, she pulled him better on top, wedging his brawny body between her thighs. With one hand on his dark locks and the other feeling his cock, she slowly bit his lip asking with pleading eyes and he pushed himself into her palm, tongue ready to invade her mouth. She moaned against him, letting him move his hips, enveloped in the heat of him, in that tantalizing smell of his skin, lost in the exquisite taste of his mouth, until she heard Roman growl and only then she guided him where wanted. None had touched her, neither him nor herself and yet she felt him slip between her juicy folds with ease, in a feral curse that made her cry and pushed him to bite her neck. Holding her hip he enstablished a pace to fuck her opposite of his striptease, messy, rough, domineering, every thrust crushed her down, nailing her mercilessly and making her sweatin agony.

Sometimes she felt like she was a toy in his hands, but she liked that kind of treatment, more when they had already wasted enough time with other games and the thought of someone else wanting that attention was still in the back of her head. She ran her nails down his forearms, marking him, holding on with ragged breath, gasping with mouth open, as he grunted into the crook of her neck, sinking into her dripping pussy in a concert of obscene sounds. And in the throes of her ecstacy, Y/N made her hands roam over his massive back, over his strong neck, even over his ass contracted in the effort to pound her wildly.

She felt a well known fire building suddenly in the bottom of her belly, uncontrollably, like a wave of pure bliss when Roman pushed himself deeper, lifting without mercy her thigh over his shoulder to get a better angle, his balls slapping against her soft skin and she squirmed crying in pleasure. His grip became more possessive, almost to prevent her from run, even though she was now just a weeping mess, folds pulsing and gripping around his dick, heat growing for what was now a marvelous attack until the delirium reached her head.

- R-Roo… ple-aase…

- Ssh come for me… let it go, you wanted it cmon good girl -

One stroke and another, on that sweet lovely spot, his skin rubbing against her hot clit and Y/N closed her eyes, curling beneath him, her mind white, blank and ì mouth open without a sound to leave her soul. She felt him leave a sweaty kiss on her cheek, continue tenaciously to prolong her sensation and also lift her other leg, aiming it in a shameful, vulgar position to conquer his climax now. Stunned by her orgasm, she watched him with passionate eyes, his expression focused, body tense and furious in the last effort and Y/N placed her forehead against his, holding him in place, tightening with a sob around his cock, folds trembling. With all his weight pinning her down, he willingly went for a couple of thrusts, deep, rough, his breathing more and more heavy until it was enough for him too and Y/N pulled him against her neck, feeling every muscle of his thick body tense and his cock twitching until it fills her up.

As always, he got stuck inside her, refusing to come out until he stopped jerking, hands gripping her soft hips tenaciously to keep her in place and only when nothing was left anymore, he freed her, collapsing though against the couch headboard to pull her against him in a sweaty hug, while they caught both their breath. They probably should have rushed to take a shower, but Y/N wasn't in a hurry and he didn't seem to be either, leaving a trail of kisses on her shoulder.

- I was thinking… - she began, sore but with her fingers tracing his arm anyway.

- Gimme ten minutes and we'll do another live

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[faghubby]

Manhood? II

After "My coming out party" as Jen loved to call it. Jen immediately started to make plans for an all girls night out. She just told me it was her and the girls no details. I suspected more was going on. She wanted to believe there was teasing me about going out unsupervised with the girls. She also had decided I wasn't man enough to ever wear "boy umdies" ever again. Giving me several pairs of panties to wear instead. I loved it all. I even went and bought her sexy lingerie to wear on her night out. I gave her the lingerie the night before she was going out with the girls.

Jens eyes widened as she open the box to reviel the black satin bra and panties there was a garter and stockings that went with it.

"You can't get enough of me being a total slut can you" She smiled "it's lovely" she told me. She then took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. She kissed me and removed my shirt she kissed and teased my nipples. I went to take off her shirt and got my hand smacked. I stood with my hands at my side as she removed my pants. She rubbed me thru my white panties. Before she removed my panties as well. I stood naked before her she cupped my balls.

"Is the cage to small?" She teased. Then spun me around and bent me over."stay" she commanded. As she wondered around the room and bathroom. She returned and smeared cool lune on my ass. Before she pushed her fingers in. She didn't waste much time fingering me. Soon she pushed something much bigger and harder against my hole. She had gotten a new attachment for her strapon. As she pushed the big toy into my ass. I let out a big moan as she did. Shs drove the toy in hard. She tried to fuck me fast. But first slipped out then just stopped.

"This is to hard." Jen told me after 5 minutes. "You will just have to let your friends fuck you again" she told me leaving me there as she went to shower.

The next night I watched as she got ready for the night out.

"Are you hoping I find a guy with a big cock?" She asked me. "Everyone you know keep calling you know" she laughed. As she danced around the room in the sexy lingerie I had bought her.

She kissed me goodbye grabbing my cage as she did.

"Wait up, never know what surprise I may have for you" Jen told me as she left. I tried to watch a movie but couldn't focus. I texted Jen but got no responses. It was after 11 when I got a text.

/Don't wait up met someone going home with him/ she sent a picture of a huge guy in a uniform, I studied the pic. He was a fireman I figured in a dress uniform. I tried to sleep but couldn't I got some more pics of Jen laying on the back of a fire truck. Her legs spread dress gone. Wearing no panties. I studied every Pic. Who was taking them. I saw shadows all around Jen. I continued to get pics every 15 minutes or so for an hour. Jen sucking a cock. One of a guy fucking her. Not the same guy who she had gone home with. Finally a pic of Jen naked laying on a bed. She looked worn out. Sleep finally took ,e I guess I woke up after 10. Jen was just getting in. She looked a mess but happy. With a smile a mile wide.

She wore a tee shirt that said engine 32 on it big enough that it fit her like a dress. She started to strip. I realized she also had on shorts with the firehouse logo on it.

"Good your up" she handed me a small bag. "The guys thought my little fairy cuckold should wear these today. In the bag was the lingerie I had bought her. It was covered in dry cum. She sat next to ,e on the bed. In just the shorts. Her hand slid down my back to my ass.

"5 of them, all big strong men. You would of so liked them" she told me her hand sliding between my ass cheeks. I leaned down and kissed her breasts. She undid the string to the shorts. They where way to big for her. I quickly pulled them off her. She guided my head between her legs a mixture of dried and fresh cum filled my mouth as I started to lick her.

"I love you baby, but god I need their cocks " Just like you do. "Why don't you call some of your friends so you can cum as well" she told me as she played with my hair. "Hope you love the taste of thier cum" JEn laughed as I suck her clean. Later that night two of my co workers showed up at the house. Pushing past me. "YOUR WIFE INVITED US" they told me. Both had there clothes off before I even was able to offer them a drink. Jen never came downstairs as they both fucked me. While I wore the dirty lingerie Jen had worn last night.