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yeehaw4yoongi · 2 years

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Iced Americano | JJK

Pairing: jk x barista female reader

Rating: 18+ | minors dni | nsfw

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: drinking alcohol, kissing, some swearing, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, fingering, mentions of cum, titty play, mentions of food/eating, mentions of milk (but literally just milk nothing nasty is being done with the milk), shower sex, dom-ish jk

Genre: fluff, smut, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, some angst

Summary: You wake up thinking today would be like any other day but you were wrong.

A/N: Hi tumblr! This is my first stab at writing any kind of fanfic. I'm new to all the warnings, categories, and abbreviations so please bear with me. Thinking about doing a part 2 since I feel like there is so much build up in this half, so if you enjoyed it, please comment, reblog, and like!

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Today started like most of your days do. The alarm yanks you out of your slumber at 4:30AM and you drag yourself to the shower. You have about half an hour to get to the bus so you can make it to work at 6:00AM. You sprint to your stop and make it just as the bus pulls up. You won’t be late today.

As you ride down the dark city streets you make a list of everything that needs to be done to open the cafe by 7:00AM. You take inventory of everyone out and about already hard at work. Street sweepers and stall keepers mill around setting the scene for the world that has yet to wake. Despite the start time, you love the opening shift. It’s where humans on different paths cross as night transitions into the morning. Party people with pupils the size of the moon and 9 to 5’ers alike find themselves convening in the queue for coffee. The day goes by as usual. Taking orders, making light conversation, steaming milk, and cleaning up empty cups make the morning go by quickly, and before you know it’s nearly time for the shift change. By now the freshness of the morning ceases to exist. You’re covered in coffee grounds and sweat has taken its toll on your makeup. You switch out the till drawer and head to the office to count the morning’s takings. Once you finish, you collect your bag and head back into the bustling cafe. It’s a small space so you weave your way through the crowded shop. You stop by the counter on your way out to bid your workmate adieu and that’s when you notice him.

His tall slender frame leans against the counter as he orders an iced americano. He reaches for his wallet and you notice the tattoos on his hands. You don’t allow yourself to keep looking. Instead, you push passed him and the other people queuing and head for the door. One of your workmates shouts behind you “see you tomorrow!” and as you turn around to wave you meet eyes with Iced Americano. For a split second, your heart plummets into your stomach. He looks down at his phone and you’re released from his grip. He seems unfazed but the depth of his glance has shaken you. Walking down the street toward the bus you brush off the interaction. This city is full of attractive people. You serve them every day. What made him different?

“Never mind,” you tell yourself as you climb the steps to the top deck of the bus. You have errands to run and a friend’s birthday dinner to go to tonight. As the afternoon wanes you forget about Iced Americano and go about getting ready for the evening’s festivities. You make your best effort. The restaurant you’re going to for the party is one of the nicest Italian places in town and you want to look the part.

The city sparkles as you make your way through town in the cold. You see the restaurant down the road. The warmth practically flows out of the windows. As you enter, you’re met with a scene of beauty. Peach-colored light is defused through sheer fabric dressed around each of the fixtures that hang from the ceiling. They reflect off of the polished brass glass rack hanging above the marble-top bar and bathe the marble walls in a rose gold hue. Vintage mirrors hang above a row of pale blue booth seats that run parallel to the bar and give way to the dining room. You stand at the door and take it all in. Scanning the dining room you realize you’re the first of your group to arrive. The maitre d’ pulls out one of the plush mint green bar stools and motions for you to take a seat. You order yourself a glass of wine and pass the time looking through your phone. As you wait, the bar fills up around you. Your phone buzzes and it’s your friend saying they’re nearly there. You motion to the bartender to close out your tab. He places the bill on the bar. When you look down you see something familiar out of the corner of your eye- a tattoo and more importantly the hand it belongs to. How long had Iced Americano been there? Your eyes never leave the tray the receipt is on as you slide it towards you. That’s when you hear his voice. “What wine are you drinking?” You mess up your signature but decide there’s no way he was talking to you and so you push the tray back toward the bartender and place your card back in your wallet. It’s when you get up to tell the maitre d’ your group has almost arrived that you meet Iced Americano’s gaze. Turns out he was talking to you. He looks at you with an inquisitive brow as he awaits your response.

“I, I uh, it’s the Cabernet” you manage to blurt out through your shock. The bartender nods at Iced Americano and he orders the Cabernet. “Thank you,” he says with a wide smile. You stand there looking up at him for what was probably only 2 seconds but feels like much longer. Just then your friends swan in and swallow you up in their hugs and kisses of greeting. You look back at Iced Americano and smile and give him a small wave as you head to your table.

Your seat at the table faces one of the mirrors hung on the walls. You and your friends order two bottles of wine and some small plates to start. You’re wrapped up in the comfort of their company. Everyone is sharing the highlights of their day and listening as the birthday girl lists off all of the presents she’s gotten. As the server brings the wine and serves a sample to your friend you look up into the mirror. Sitting at the table directly behind you is Iced Americano with two others. His seat at the table gives you a clear view of his face in the mirror’s reflection. You try your best to stay engaged in the conversation happening at your table but the image in the mirror pulls your gaze back to it. His face is kind and his eyes are soft and doe-like. The curve of his jaw is sharp. Even through the vintage mirror, you can tell his bone structure resembles that of a statue. You’ve lost yourself in his image and he must have felt you staring because his eyes look up to meet yours. You’re rendered breathless but you don’t divert your eyes. The server pours your glass of wine and you refocus on the table.

Several food courses and drinks go by before the bill inevitably arrives. Your party wraps up and as you collect your things to leave you steal another glance at Iced Americano in the mirror hoping it won’t be the last. You make your way out with your group and wait with them as each of their cabs arrive. Standing alone on the sidewalk outside of the restaurant you watch your Uber get closer and closer to picking you up but you’re not ready to go home yet. You look behind you through the restaurant window and see Iced Americano sitting at the bar. You decide to throw caution to the wind and cancel the Uber.

The liquid courage running through your veins makes it easy, a little too easy, to take the seat directly next to the man that has captured your attention. You don’t say anything to him as the weight of your decision begins to hit you. It’s too late now, and when the bartender asks what you would like you say, “He and I will have an espresso martini,” and motion to Iced Americano sitting next to you. He looks at you with a surprised look and you grin. “Did you order that for me?” he asks with a chuckle. You nod. “What’s your name?” you ask. He responds, “My name is Jungkook. It’s nice to meet you.”

You sit at the bar nursing your drinks and talking. He’s in town working for a couple of days. You mention being a barista but don’t mention where. You talk about traveling and the places you’ve been, comparing notes on cities you’ve both visited. He is incredibly well-traveled and regales you with stories about his time spent on the road. As you chat the restaurant starts closing down. Eventually, the bartender makes the last call and Jungkook asks if you’d like to take a bottle of wine to go. The idea sends a tingle up your spine. You initially thought the espresso martini would be the nightcap but your shift doesn’t start until the afternoon the next day, and why wouldn’t you get a bottle of wine to go? You answer him, “I’d love to. I know a place we can go with it.”

When you step outside the cold air hits your lungs and the warm blur from inside the restaurant sharpens. You are greeted by the sounds of cabs passing by and people chatting and laughing as they make their way to the train station. The city lights shine and wrap you up. You feel safe under them. The libations from dinner and the impromptu nightcap make your mind feel light and optimistic like anything could happen. As though somehow this moment is the beginning of your life.

You start walking down the road and turn to see if Jungkook is following you. He’s still standing at the door holding the wine and thanking the staff for a wonderful meal and exquisite service. Waiting for him a few paces along the sidewalk you take the opportunity to admire his whole form. He’s tall with broad strong shoulders. His turtleneck hugs his arms and chest and his slacks are perfectly tailored - a statue. As he walks toward you he asks, “Where do we go next?”

The two of you make your way through town passing the theatre district down to the river. You find a bench along the bank and take a seat to watch boats pass while lights on the other side twinkle in the background. He had the forethought to ask the bartender to uncork the wine but you both forgot cups. He playfully pulls the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottle and then hands it to you. It’s cold out but you don’t feel it. Maybe it’s the wine? Maybe it’s him? Either way, you never feel uncomfortable. You talk with him about what brought you to the city and how you love being there. He listens intently and seems to hang on to your every word. Time flies as you take turns drinking the wine and before you know it, the bottle is empty. You sit there with him in the dark a bit longer looking out over the water. The silence between you is pleasant. You can feel his arm up against yours and you fight the urge to take his hand at that moment.

He looks at his phone and breaks the silence, “Let’s walk back to where I’m staying and I can get you a cab back home.” By now, you know that even if you didn’t desperately want to walk him home, you’ve had so much wine that there’s no way you can get into a vehicle without walking it off a bit. As you stroll up to the beautiful historic hotel, you see there’s a town car parked in the front. “This is for you,” Jungkook says with a smile and motions to the car. Going home is the last thing you want to do but you don’t want to force anything. You thank him for the ride and tell him you hope he has a great remainder of his stay in town. As you turn toward the car, Jungkook takes your hand in his and pulls you toward him into a hug. You breathe him in and he smells like clean fresh laundry. “Thank you for showing me around,” he says releasing you, “I had a great time.” You go to respond but don’t get the chance. He leans in and gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. “I’ll see you around,” he whispers in your ear with a sly smile and you stand there stunned. He notices that you’ve been caught off guard and walks to the side of the car and opens the door. That’s your cue. You get into the backseat and he closes the door behind you, giving a small wave as the car pulls away from the hotel.

Your whole body buzzes as you ride through the city. When you get home you realize you never exchanged numbers. As you sink into bed you replay the events of the evening in your mind. Every look, every word, every brush of his arm against yours. The kiss cycles over and over. Even if it was just tonight, it was worth it.

The next day you have a slow morning. By some miracle, you aren’t hungover but the booze has made you feel sluggish. You think about Jungkook as you get ready for work that afternoon and while heading to the bus stop. You think about him as you ride through town and as you walk to the cafe. You can’t shake him and you don’t want to. Deep down you tell yourself not to get your hopes up. What are the chances of you seeing him again? Despite you trying to manage your expectations, you watch the cafe door your entire shift hoping he’ll appear there. Patron after patron comes in. No Jungkook. Finally, you give up hope that he’ll come in but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about the night before. You spend the rest of the shift on autopilot, stuck in your endless daydream. You close up the shop and head back home. You have to open up the next day and can’t afford another late night. Riding the bus, your mind drifts to last night. It remembers the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. It remembers the feeling of his lips pushed against yours and the feeling of his breath on your ear.

Once again, your alarm startles you awake at 4:30AM. Another day, another shift. You’ve accepted the idea that your evening with Jungkook was only a brief encounter and one of the many perks of living in the city. You never know who you’ll meet and what will happen. The memory will live fondly in the back of your mind for a while until time inevitably reduces it to a blip on the timeline of your life. The shift goes by as normal and you greet and serve the first arrivals into the shop. The morning is peppered with the regular corporate types and rave stragglers. You spend your time chatting, catching up with them, and listening to what they have planned for the rest of their day. As the lunch rush starts to pick up, the queue for service extends to just outside of the door. You’re nearing the end of your shift but there’s still a lot to do, so you move from the till to behind the coffee machine to help your workmate with the influx of coffee orders flooding in.

As you steam the milk at the end of the counter, you grow tired and the awareness of what’s happening around you disappears. It’s just you and the milk pitcher. You watch the milk swirl around in the jug making sure not to burn it. With your focus on the upcoming orders you never see Jungkook enter the cafe, but now he is standing at the end of the counter and says, “Hi” breaking your focus. When you look up and see who the greeting comes from, you almost don’t believe your eyes. The chances of you meeting again seemed slim and yet here he is. You realize that you’re fully staring at him, mouth agape. You try to respond like someone who has spoken before but your “Hey! How are you?” comes out as more of an abrupt shout. He doesn't skip a beat and tells you that he was meant to leave town the day before but that he still had some things to wrap up and extended his trip a few days. You’re delighted by this news but you do your best to stay cool and nonchalant. His drink is a few places behind others in line but none of the other patrons matter anymore. You make each drink and just slide them to the end of the counter as you and Jungkook chat. He didn’t know you worked here and mentioned how he was in the cafe a few days ago. You pretend not to remember. Finally, his drink is up. Unlike the coffees before his, you take extra care and gently slide the drink directly toward him. He asks you for a lid and as you go to put it on, there is a brief fumble. He doesn’t anticipate you putting the lid on for him and reaches to secure it as you place it on top of his cup. His slender fingers and soft palm land directly on the top of your hand. You both look up at each other and giggle. He takes a sip of his drink and thanks you for making it just right. You swoon and he notices. He says that he’s been given tickets to a show later that night and asks if you’d like to go with him. You exchange a glance with your workmate standing to your left. She has completely stopped making espresso shots and is waiting for you to respond to him while nodding her head as though to say, “Say yes, fool!”. You quickly turn back to face Jungkook and tell him, “sounds great”. Noticing that the number of people waiting for their coffee has caused a crowd to form, he takes a pen from his bag and writes his number on a napkin, and hands it to you. “Send me your address. I’ll pick you up at 7.”

As soon as you finish work you text him your address. [See you soon.] he replies. You race home and start the process of getting ready. No task is spared as you prep for a night on the town with quite possibly the most beautiful man on the planet. You try on all of your clothes and then all of your roommate’s clothes before finally deciding on what you’ll wear. You put on the designer perfume your grandmother gave you for your birthday. Promptly at 7:00PM your phone buzzes. You give yourself a last look and take a deep breath. When you open the front door, there is Jungkook sitting on the street in an Aston Martin. He gets out of the car and goes around the other side to open the passenger door. He’s wearing black combat boots, fitted black trousers, and a knit charcoal grey crew neck sweater over a white collared shirt. You walk toward him and he takes your hand to help you into the car. He gets into the driver’s seat but before he puts the car back into gear, he looks over at you and says, “You look amazing.” You thank him and reciprocate the compliment even though “amazing” doesn’t even begin to describe how gorgeous he looks. He is fucking hot with his black hair combed in a way that exposes a bit of his forehead. You fight the urge to lick your lips as you watch him wrap his tattooed fingers around the steering wheel.

You arrive at an elite member’s only Burlesque club in Soho. The hostess shows you to a cozy private booth with soft cushioned upholstery and oversized pillows that line the back. As the two of you settle in, the manager stops by the table to drop off a complimentary bottle of champagne. Jungkook smiles when he sees her and stands up to greet her with a hug and cheek kiss, as though they’ve met before. He introduces you and she winks as she greets you. She says, “Any friend of JK is a friend of mine. If you need anything at all, just ask for me.” A server comes by and takes your drink and food order just as the lights in the club dim and the spotlight flicks onto the stage. Jungkook makes sure your glass never runs dry as one beautiful woman after another takes the stage. Each one of their performances is glamorous and sensual. As the show goes on, the two of you inch closer and closer to each other until he takes his arm and puts it over your shoulder. You allow yourself to let your guard down and lean your head to the side to rest it in the nook where his chest meets his shoulder. You stay there until the show is over.

The club isn’t far from his hotel and as you stroll down the street it dawns on you that that’s the direction you’re heading in. You brace yourself for another town car. When the hotel is just within eyeshot, Jungkook makes a random but smooth turn onto a narrow alley and points out some street art on the wall. As you follow behind him trying to see what he’s talking about he turns around and slowly walks back toward you until you’ve backed yourself onto the wall opposite of the one he was looking at. He walks right up to the point where you’re nearly touching and then stops. You turn your gaze upward to look him in the eyes and he says, “I’m just kidding. I wanted a private place to kiss you.” He leans in and lays a small kiss on your lips. And then another. You kiss him back as you slowly wrap your arms around his waist and draw him in closer. For a few moments, the two of you stand there entwined seemingly suspended in time. It feels like you’re levitating. He opens his mouth and slides his tongue into yours, triggering all the butterflies in your stomach to a frenzy. Pulling back, he lays a few more small kisses on your lips before bringing your arms up around his neck and wrapping his arms around your back to pull you into him again. You stand there in silence breathing in unison. As you stroke the hair that grazes the nape of his neck he leans into yours and kisses it softly. Kissing your neck he says, “Do you,” another kiss, “want,” another kiss, “to come up,” another kiss, “with me?” You reply into the night sky as your head rolls back, and his kisses drift further down your neck, “Absolutely”.

Your heart pounds as you walk through the hotel doors but you aren’t nervous. Facing the front of the mirrored elevator doors, Jungkook stands behind you. He admires your reflections for a moment and you watch him as he drapes his left arm over the front of you while using his right hand to caress the left side of your face and turn it up to the right to meet his for a kiss. The doors ding open and you walk into the elevator. He pushes a button near the top floor and the doors close.

You are standing on opposite sides of the elevator and with each floor that passes the tension between you grows. It takes everything you have not to throw yourself on him but you test the waters and ask, “Why are you all the way over there?”. His demeanor shifts and when his gaze meets yours, you see a fire burning in his eyes. He takes the two steps across the elevator, looks over at the buttons, and smashes the Emergency stop. The elevator halts. Facing you, Jungkook raises his hand and places his thumb on your lip, applying some pressure while moving it carefully and with purpose until your mouth is slightly open. He starts to lean in, slowly sliding his thumb and index finger down to the tip of your chin, and lifts your face until your mouths meet in a deep and passionate French kiss. Your face rests gently in the palms of his hands. The way he kisses you feels like he needs you to breathe. “Can I touch you?”, he asks, his voice nearly a whisper but not quite. As he waits for your response, once again you find yourself answering into the sky but this time you’re met with your reflection in the mirrored ceiling of the elevator. You look yourself in the eyes as they roll back into your head and you whisper, “Please”.

When the elevator doors open Jungkook slides his fingers out from your now-damp underwear and leads you into an immaculately decorated suite. He flicks on a lamp and then another and you stop at the end of the entryway to take in the space.

As you admire your surroundings, Jungkook asks if you’d like a glass of wine while he pulls back a heavy curtain to reveal a private terrace with a breathtaking view of the city. You walk over to where he’s standing by the window and look out. The city lights twinkle in a panorama. He asks you again if you’d like some wine but you are too distracted by flashbacks of the elevator ride up when he slid his middle and ring fingers inside of you as he rubbed your clit with the bottom of his palm to notice Jungkook waiting for your response whilst you look out over the city. He clears his throat and you are suddenly very aware of him waiting and see him looking at you out of the corner of your eye.

You turn toward him and say, “I think I want something stronger,” as you move your hand over the front of his trousers to find what you actually want. You land on the task at hand and you feel him twitch slightly under your palm, as he begins to harden at your touch. Looking up at his face, his eyes are closed and he lets out a soft moan as he exhales. You keep your hand where it is for a bit longer before moving it up toward his waist until your fingers are touching the bottom of his sweater giving it a light tug to signal that it’s time for him to take it off. He crosses his arms over his torso, reaching to where your hands are resting near his waist, and pulls the sweater up and over his head. While his arms are still mid-air, you reach up and start unbuttoning the white collared shirt. You lay a kiss on the skin that is exposed with each undone button. He is breathing heavier now. You only get halfway through unbuttoning his shirt before he takes you by the waist and turns you toward the window. He puts his hand on your back and presses you into it just enough to indicate that he’s the one in control. His hand moves down your back to your hips and guides them into place. His other hand is busy lifting your skirt and resting the fabric on your lower back to expose your ass. “If you want something stronger, that’s what you’ll get”. You hear his zipper coming down and his belt clink as he unbuckles. The glass is cold against your palms and arms. The city continues to glow in front of you as you feel him slide your panties down.

The anticipation begins to bubble over and every part of your body throbs and screams out for him. You let out a whine when he starts teasing you with his tip, before slowly and gently sliding every inch of him inside of you. You both moan softly and relish the first moment your bodies fully meet each other. Jungkook pulls out nearly leaving you but slides himself deep inside you again. He repeats this a few times and then proceeds to slowly and steadily fuck you from behind. Each thrust is deliberate and forces you to feel all of him as he strokes your g-spot. You can feel the pressure inside of you starting to build and he can too. He gradually quickens his pace remaining consistent with the depth and cadence of his strokes. Your head gets cloudy as your orgasm continues to mount. “Fuck!” you exclaim as Jungkook starts to hammer into you with a rhythm where you cease to see straight anymore. You try to regain your composure but all you can do is plead with him not to stop- never stop. “I won’t,” he barks through gritted teeth. You come so hard that your legs nearly give out and he’s quick to catch you with one arm around your torso to keep you from buckling. He never misses a beat and the waves of your orgasm keep crashing over you.

When he feels you reach the other side of pleasure, he pulls himself out of your warmth and gently rubs the head of his cock across your ass cheeks as he releases onto them. You feel the warm trickles of his cum roll down as he steps back to admire his work. Still bent over and facing the window you look back at him over your right shoulder and see him standing there with a naughty smile stretched across his face while he pulls up his trousers. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says. In an effort not to make a mess of your skirt, you unzip it and bring it up over your body and head. You drape it over one of the armchairs and hear the shower turn on in the other room. As you walk toward the sound you remove your top and drop it onto the floor.

Entering the bathroom you are met with a fully naked Jungkook. The form that you’ve admired through turtlenecks and fitted trousers is now on full display. He has a striking physique and you can tell that he takes time to maintain it. He is lean but still muscular. He’s strong but has made an effort not to overdo it so that it looks almost effortless. You can see all of his tattoos now and you’re surprised by how many there are.

Steam spills over the top of the walk-in shower and he opens the door and beckons for you to get in. He takes the sponge hanging on the wall and squeezes some soap onto it. The scent of gardenia wafts through the steam as he creates a lather and drags the sponge along the different parts of your body, paying particular attention to your ass making sure to remove whatever is still left of him. He wrings out the sponge and hangs it back on the wall. As the warm water continues to cascade down, you turn to face him and wrap your arms around his waist to pull his body close to yours. You rest your head on his chest and feel him breathe. Still captured in your embrace, Jungkook turns the two of you as a unit so that you are facing him as he slowly sits down on the banquette that is built into the shower. You continue to stand. You place your hands under his chin and tilt his head so that he’s looking straight up into your eyes. You lean down to kiss him. He kisses you back gently and when you move your head to change angles you catch a peek of his face through your partially closed eyes. His brow is furrowed as though he is savoring every second of this kiss. His expression is soft and sincere. It makes you feel like at that moment, you belong to each other. Like you want to take care of him. To protect his heart. To make sure he always feels cherished. You start to lose yourself in your head as you continue to caress him. The emotions rising into your throat border on heartbreaking. You know this is a fleeting moment. Nothing is promised after tonight.

You pull back from the kiss and start to straighten your stance, while he glides his mouth down your neck and chest until he has one of your breasts in his mouth. You feel his tongue circling your nipple as his hand takes your other breast into it. He rubs his thumb over your other nipple while using his free arm to keep you close to him. Gently, you comb your fingers through the wet hair on the back of his head and hold it as he transfers his mouth to your other breast. You reach down between his legs as he continues to suck on your tits and find that he is hard.

Jungkook adjusts so that he is sitting on the very edge of the banquette to make it easier for you to straddle him. As you lower yourself down onto him, he pulls you in so close that it’s hard to tell where he starts and you stop. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your face is pressed against the side of his. Once you feel that he is completely inside of you, you start rocking your hips back and forth slowly. He moans when he feels your core grip around his cock. Breathing in unison, every slight movement becomes more gratifying than the last, transporting you to an alternate realm. Nothing else exists as you allow yourself to surrender to the intimacy of this moment. No one can see you. No one will ever know the energy exchanged here tonight. It belongs solely to the two of you. “Give it all to me, baby,” Jungkook coos in your ear, as though he’s cheering you to the finish. Your ears pop when you come and for a moment you are totally paralyzed as you let out a silent scream and throw your head back while palpable bliss courses between you. As you slowly grind on him you bring your face to his eye level and kiss him while he comes inside of you. Even after he’s finished you stay connected on the banquette while the water continues to run so you can stay in this moment as long as possible.

Dawn starts to shine over the city skyline as you climb into the big hotel bed. Jungkook pulls the heavy curtain across the window and the room descends into nearly pitch darkness. He crawls into bed next to you. You’re both still naked and your skin is warm and clean. The two of you lay in the darkness talking for a while. You talk about how beautiful the burlesque dancers were at the show and about how delicious the food was. Your conversation wanders aimlessly as you curl up into the nook of his neck and he reaches down to pull your leg over him. He holds on to the bottom of your thigh to keep it draped over him. His breathing starts to deepen and you are lulled to sleep by every inhale and exhale. You smell gardenias as you doze off.

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pauking5 · 4 months

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Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 3 🏁

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, sports rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, spice

Word count: 15.2k+

A/N: Curious who's going to catch the Tokyo Drift reference 😏 Hope you're ready for the storm cause lightning and thunder just met for real in this one. It was literal hell to write at times, but I wanted to get more accurate with it and bring you as close to the view in my head as possible, so sorry for the delay. Tried my hand at writing tension so I hope it's good. Enjoy lovelies. Smooches to you :)

Raiko's Playlist: Bad Boy - Red Velvet, High Horse - Kacey Musgraves, Antisocial - Ed Sheeran, Travis Scott, True Disaster - Tove Lo, "good guy" - Against The Current, Summer Jam - 99 RZNS, John Gibbons, KOOLKID, How Bad Do You Want It (Oh Yeah) - Sevyn Streeter, Pump It - Black Eyed Peas, Tokyo Drift - Teriyaki Boys, Morning After Dark - Timbaland, Nelly Furtado.

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Day 3 of Tour de Tokai - Final stages

The sun was up before you could catch any sleep, peaking through the thick blinds with bright beams. That brightness didn't bode well with the small hangover brewing between your pinched eyebrows. A remainder of the excessive amounts of champagne you drank last night and the really excited twosome next door, working hard to drill a hole in the wall behind your head all night long.

At one point, they quieted down and you were near falling asleep until they went at it again and again, and you contemplated sleeping in the bathtub.

Putting on your golden blue team kit and the darkest shades you could find in the mess of luggage, you packed and dragged your heavy bags into the hallway and pressed the button on the lift for reception. You caught your reflection in the shiny silver doors and thanked god no one saw you yet. Your hair was a half-tangled mess, hidden under the team baseball cap well enough. Only two days on the job and you already had sunken in eye bags, but those were probably from the amazing beauty sleep you had the night before.

I had better days, you blew out a breath pulling up your shades.

Bags checked out and safely loaded into the airport car until later, you headed for the track. Walking out to the biggest stand on the hill overlooking the road for today, you scanned the grounds. It was still pretty early but the crowds were already making their way to the stands to get the best seats - right in the sputter of a dusty drift corner. The dirt must be doing wonders for their skin if they paid so much to sit there willingly, you thought, grimacing at the dried up mud painting most of the sun-bleached seats.

At least it was a quiet spot to just do some people watching and wake yourself up. You watched the food court vendors open the back doors to their vans before getting to work on the food. Some people were sat on the trunk of their cars, huddled in blankets or hoodies, eating a makeshift breakfast before queuing up for entrance. The race marshals were putting up the access signs and doing other maintenance checks.

The spring breeze blew softly feeling like a refreshing cup of coffee you didn't have yet. Early mornings like these were the best. Just quiet and mundane. Slow and pleasant.

Your peaceful perusal was interrupted by a figure settling in on your right, mimicking your leaned back posture on the wooden fence next to the race banner, hands crossed over your chest and all. You didn't even need to look over to know who it was. The expensive combination of lemony vanilla and other bitter, citrusy fruits entered your nostrils like ten meters ago, before he even stopped next to you.

How can someone so irritating smell so good?

"How did you sleep?" he spoke, voice low and husky, still laced with blissful sleep. A luxury mere mortals are unable to acquire at the expense of divine hedonism. Though, if that was how gods fucked, you wished to never hear it again. The girl's moans replayed like a broken record in your head even now, voice sweet like cotton candy reaching impossible notes.

Jesus Christ, you shuddered, trying your hardest to get rid of the image you just accidentally put in your head.

"I didn't," you said with a tight-lipped smile, turning to the devil beside you. He did look well-rested. "Hearing your name being moaned until three in the morning kinda ruined the peace one needs to sleep."

"I told you to join us," he shrugged, like he was asking you to join a grocery run and definitely not a threesome call. "It was a good sex catch."

I hope that angel never comes across his dick again.

Staring ahead, you hoped that if you ignored him, he would make himself scarce like he did last night at the car reveal. Instead, he leaned over to your side, lips slightly brushing the side of your ear with another offer that made your skin crawl with tendrils of chills, branching out from your nape all the way down to your spine.

"You know, we could've moved the show to your room. Get you out and about with the masses. Learn a thing or two."

You could taste the malice in his voice, looking to throw you off with raw sex talk. He pulled back to his corner, that annoying grin bright as day on his face, way too enthusiastic about his choice of words after last night.

He should work on his sweet nothings some more.

"I have my fair share with the masses. Don't you worry your frozen little braincells with that," you said, trying to shake off those chills still dancing on your spine.

"Ah, so she does get action," he laughed dryly, tilting forward with another remark he was better off keeping to himself. "I couldn't tell."

A little burst of mischief raised in you, so you turned to face him fully, pulling your shades off. Your body acted on a mindless spurt of small revenge as one of your hands lapped itself around his shoulder, gripping the other in balance and to pull him towards you, while the other rested on top of his chest. Under your palm, his heartbeat was calm and steady, just like the engine of the car before the race.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you scanned his face to see the ever-present amusement etched into every chiseled dent of his jaw, high cheekbones and perfectly angled lips. You wondered if dimples would pop out on the sides if he ever smiled for real, not just in a teasing manner or for show. Was he even capable of smiling?

The more your eyes drove up his face, the wider that eager glint in his eyes got. In the morning sun, rising brighter over the hill behind you, golden beams reflected off his orbs much like fiery bronze specks glinting off regal statues.

That eagerness turned to confusion when you inched closer to his ear, your lips brushing his in the same way his did. Your breath ghosted over his neck and you felt the smallest rise in his pulse, the muscles in his back tensing under your hold. You spoke small, but loud enough to cover the buzz of the rave music catching volume in the stands, making sure he received every single word.

"You know what would be a better catch?" you asked, tone sweet and tempting like a fiend.

His head craned down slightly and he quirked an eyebrow at you, curious as to where you were taking this. Only for it to not be in the direction he expected it to go in.

"Breaking that penis of yours in two and scattering pieces of it on the track like it's fucking gravel for everyone to drive over it. That," you enforced your threat with a swift gaze at his precious groin then moved your eyes back to his, "would be the catch of the year."

His lips parted in disbelief, the smug look on his face gone completely, as if you just detonated a bomb with his very own hand on it.

That was an unofficial war announcement. Jaw tightened in bold offensive, you stood your ground waiting for his retaliation. Your hand was still on his chest waiting for that spike to come again. But it never did.

Slowly but surely, the look in his eyes morphed to one of challenge, burning with the dire need to crush you to pieces for that daring threat.

Was this a novelty to him? A woman driving the reality train through his brain without having her legs open for him? Possibly. Because his smirk was now taut, filled with the same vindictive goading you carried. Just a tad bit darker and full of hunger for battle.

"I would like to see you try, rookie."

Rookie.

That nickname was starting to get on your nerves. Though there was no lie in it because you were a rookie in the sport, the way he said it implied that there was nothing else to you but that - a clueless beginner that will always stay a clueless beginner. Belittling at its finest. Your temper didn't buy belittling very well.

"Listen here you asswipe-" you started, only to get cut off by Don Tanaka's voice closing in behind you.

"Rai, the crew's waiting for... you..."

The words died in Tanaka's throat the more he took in how curled up you were with Naozumi. At first he was about to reprimand you for dealing cahoots with the enemy again, but when his eyes fell on the teeth grinding murderous looks you both threw each other, he decided on breaking it off before the interaction turned violent.

"Rai, step away from Naozumi."

"This. isn't. over," you gritted out with poison, plying yourself away from him.

Pushing your sunglasses back up your nose and throwing one more sharp imaginary knife right in the middle of his annoyingly handsome face devoid of imperfections, you sourly turned and left with Tanaka.

"I think it is, princess," he muttered behind you.

"Just you wait."

The really funny thing about curses is that they never truly... leave.

They might take a break and sip a cocktail somewhere sunny, like the big white-bearded gramps dressed in red does in his vacation after Christmas, letting you bask in some sort of chill ambiguity that all is well and perfect. Until nothing is well and perfect. Just absolutely horrifying and close to provoking a collective meltdown. Quite like the one in your team pen at the moment.

The team was gathered around the car with discouraged looks decorating all their faces as Sentaro, the main mechanic, relayed the news to you. Not one soul moved, everything and everyone as still as your shut off engine.

This had to be some sick joke. There was no way this is happening.

"What do you mean I can't go out on track today? You're joking right?" you laughed nervously, trying to stop your eye from twitching violently.

Apparently, the mechanics tried to start the engine and black smoke came out of it. While that issue was partly because of a clogged air filter that was vacuumed clean now, the engine also overheated to the point they thought it would blow up if they let it run longer.

From your brief experience with cars and growing up around the team garage, you had a feeling of what the issue could be.

"Is the dashboard blinking with the high oil pressure sign?" you asked Sentaro to which he nodded in response.

You were in front of the car in an instant, popping the hood open to check the oil injection. Pulling out the dipstick on a clean cloth your assumptions were proven right, though you wished they were horribly wrong. The rough dirt roads from yesterday definitely took a toll on the engine's oil filter, judging by the black sludge you were met with instead of the normal light brown color of the motor oil.

Dropping down to the ground with your phone's flashlight, you looked under the car and sure enough, there was a trail of the same dark goo leaking out from the car. The oil filter was the problem. And lucky for you, the oil specialized mechanic wasn't here today.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," said Tanaka, leaning on the side of the car. "There's nothing we can do."

Before you could even browse solutions, Kate ran in the pen nearly tripping over her feet. Thanks to Tanaka's steady hold, she landed upright on her feet, giving him a shy look of gratitude that didn't go unnoticed by you. They held each other's gaze for a while, not one thought behind them but a tinge of affection.

Realizing they had an audience, she cleared her throat stepping away from him. His hand shot up to rub his nape with a nervous smile.

What was that about? you thought, scrunching your nose inquisitively at the two. The faint blush spreading on her cheeks and the playful look in his eyes was a bit of a dead give away of what went on between the two. The car issue was more of a priority right now than their mutual fancy. I'll pester them about it later.

"What's up, Kate?"

Your voice seemed to break her out of whatever reverie she was having.

"The pre-race press conference starts in fifteen," she announced, eyes grazing over your team kit before flying back to yours with confusion. "Why are you not in your racing suit yet? What's going on?"

"I'll explain on the way," you replied hastily.

You moved away from the car to grab your bag and went to change in the trailer with her following in tow. Turning back around, your eyes flew back to Tanaka and the rest of the crew.

If the big man was here, he would know what to do. But he left for Tokyo early in the morning for a business meeting with a new sponsor. You were completely on your own with the team, and from the looks of it, it was time to take the lead.

"Nothing you can do," you said with a small smile trying to bring some optimism back into the sour mood. "There's something I can do. Just don't touch the engine until I'm back from the conference."

"Also, go tell the organizers I'm retiring from the first stage and keep them posted on the second one," you told Tanaka, ignoring Kate's gasp of shock. "We might still have a shot at points today. We worked too hard to let that go."

With that, you ran back to the trailer behind the pen, getting changed while Kate's worries doubled and spilled over yours in a frenzy of overly dramatic and stressed hand gestures.

"What do you mean retiring from the first stage? Are you crazy?"

Taking off the kit with a grunt, you made haste for the fireproofs and the suit.

"Not crazy," you groaned, pushing your legs through the pants of the racing suit. "Just trying not to freak out because it won't help anyone if I do."

"The car has an issue that's preventing me from taking part in the first stage today, but I hope," you breathed out, struggling to pull the top part of the suit over your hips, "that we can somehow get it out on track at least for the second stage."

With the already smoldering heat outside and your growing nerves, the ensemble felt so uncomfortable to wear. Pulling your arms through the sleeves and zipping it up to your neck, you fiddled with the soft collar unable to close it properly. Kate swatted your hands away to help you fix it so you could be out the door. Though you couldn't do that without your driver's card that was nowhere to be found.

"On a scale of one to ten, how big are your hopes of that actually happening?"

You stopped your relentless searching for your identification lanyards only to find them in the safe hold of Kate's hands.

"A solid eleven," you paused, grabbing them with a grateful smile. "On a good day. We'll have to see if today is one of those."

You were out of the trailer in no time, heading for the conference room while she ran you through possible questions you could get asked by the stingy reporters. Before you went on stage to take your designated seat, she pulled you back around for a last check.

"You know what you have to say?" she asked, placing her hands on your shoulders to make you focus.

Narrowing your eyes at her with a 'I'm not a child' look, you recounted the rules of publicity she made you repeat before each press meeting. Or more like your very own not so accurate version of them.

"No snarky replies, wait for my turn and try to maintain the already crumbling image we have. No biggie."

She smacked your cheeks together, shaking you hard to bring you back from sarcasm land. Better sarcasm than a full blown meltdown. You rolled your eyes at her dramatic antics, reciting the actual holy trinity of rules to get her off your case.

"If it's not for my own benefit or the team's, don't reply. Avoid all questions about my or dad's personal life with a simple 'no comment'. Keep levelheaded and avoid conflicts of interest," you finished confidently, but with a slight confusion on the last one.

She nodded with a bright smile, letting go of your cheeks. Whirling you around, she made quick work of your hair in a ponytail and fixed your team cap on top of your head to look more professional than you felt at the moment.

"You've got this, Rai," she encouraged sweetly like she always did. "I'll be right here in case of anything."

"Thanks Yuzu," you smiled at her, trying to ease her stress before it rubbed off on you, turning you into a ticking bomb. "I owe you one."

"You owe me more than one," she quipped as a matter of factly.

"Yeah, yeah," you waved her off, turning for the stage. "I'll tell dad to add a holiday bonus to your paycheck."

"All debts are paid," she replied, sounding like an ATM machine that just cashed out your first salary before you even saw it in the account.

You went up the stairs, taking a seat behind your name tag, near the middle row on the lower side of the makeshift stage. Most drivers were already in their seats waiting for the show to start so you could all be on your way. You caught sight of Akira about two chairs down to the left, already clocking you with a small wave.

At least there's some sunshine in the world.

You leaned over the seat, turning the mic away. He scooched over, meeting you halfway with a short smile that was enough to send butterflies swarming wildly in your stomach.

"Hello there."

"Hi," you replied sheepishly. "You ready for today?"

"I hope so. The tracks today look way better than whatever the fuck those three were yesterday."

You both shared a horrified look remembering the disaster that almost left your cars in totaled wrecks the day before.

"What about you? Ready?"

"It's complicated," you looked down in disdain, conscious of the mess awaiting you in the team pen after the conference.

What was the point in elaborating further? He's going to see the scoreboard anyway. The retirement issue was better kept under wraps for now, in case press inched to you like leeches before they even got to ask you a question.

"Hogging my seat doesn't look that complicated."

That tone of mixed delight and irritation could only belong to one person. That and the shady vibes prickling the hairs on the back of your neck like the very shadows of death were about to swallow you into the underworld.

Sure enough, craning your head backwards Naozumi was right behind you. Alarm bells rang in your head replaying his words again. His seat? What the fuck is he on- Your eyes fell back on the name tag right beside yours, reflecting Naozumi Hiyama back at you, bright as the light of day. Oh.

Naozumi was to be seated on your left for the next half an hour. What a joy. For some poor sick bastard, definitely not for you.

How did I not notice it before I sat down? I could've switched seats with the backfield guys in a heartbeat and no one would know a thing.

Looking back behind you, your small hope was crushed as most seats were taken up already, busting your escape plan. Your gaze landed back on the man, now more interested to know how much of your conversation he heard.

"How long have you been standing there like a scarecrow?"

"Enough to almost physically gag at your conversation."

Ah, there he was. Repulsion in human form. Wonderful.

You bid Akira an apologetic smile and leaned back in your seat, letting nation's finest walk by to take his own. He held onto your backseat to let himself down in his. Leaning way too close to you again, you caught an extra accidental whiff of that expensive perfume of his, toned down by the scent of the burnt rubber fumes caught to his suit. You turned your head away with a breath, resisting the urge not to choke. From the snicker on his lips pointed downwards, you could tell he did that on purpose. Fucker.

It wasn't long and the press conference finally commenced. As expected you weren't first in line for questions, both to your relief and growing unease. Your thoughts ran back to the car. The longer you spent here, looking pretty for the media that could care less, the less time you got to spend on fixing the car. Changing the oil filter was relatively less time consuming than the oil draining and changing. Besides, who knew if there weren't other problems. There were always problems.

Tapping your feet impatiently under the table, your eyes trained on the digital clock at the back of the room, mentally pushing the flickering red dots bouncing between the numbers a tad bit faster. Boring questions aimed at the other drivers went in through your ears, fading together, getting lost into an incorrigible mess of side thoughts, all while you dissociated somewhere far away.

At some point, something heavy moved on top of your leg that seems to have taken on incessant bouncing. You broke your eyes away from the clock to check. Thinking it must have been a bug or your sleep-deprived hallucination, you were beyond surprised to see a hand resting there, all five fingers of it splayed wide on top of your knee, nearly enveloping it whole.

Following the path of the muscular, veiny hand to the grey material going up the plush arm of a racing suit, you found it connected to Naozumi's shoulder. His gaze was set ahead with his chin propped on his other hand, a bored look taking over his usual amusement.

Is he looking for entertainment again?

Focusing your attention back on the press crowd, you went to push it off briskly. You felt it slide off your leg, shutting your eyes in relief that he let go and didn't put it back, going back to your daydream.

The clock ticked by infuriatingly slower, and by the looks of it, only ten boring minutes passed. You resumed your foot tapping, unable to keep cool without releasing tension in a way that kept you calm and levelheaded for the rest of the conference. You even started repeating Kate's set of three rules, again and again, until they blurred together in your head into a mess of words.

Unconsciously, you resumed the knee bouncing. That's when the same familiar weight sat back on top of your knee, trying to cease your restless shaking. You groaned mentally, aware that there was nothing else you could do but let his hand sit there until he got bored of being annoying.

Was it weird that the touch gave you a small ounce of comfort? It was so far from an actual touch, closer to a simple brush. But it grounded you back to reality in a less impatient way than your nervous foot tapping.

Jesus, Rai. The man fucked the sleep out of your brain last night. He's trying to get under your skin.

Leaning forward on your hands, you shifted your position so your feet crossed under your seat in hopes his hand would slide down again. His grip never lessened, turning firmer on top of your knee, seeing right through your trick. You huffed a breath through your nose, trying to calm down before you shoved your fist heavy with rage in his beautiful face to do some overdue damage, since he was asking for it so nicely.

In your line of sight, you saw him reach down for his water bottle, right beside his leg. His hand trailed down your calf with the movement, only for it to slide back up to its original spot on your knee.

This wasn't anywhere near comforting. This was teasing. Maybe even payback for this morning for invading his space with violent threats of castration. The side of his lip curled up in the slightest, letting you know he was enjoying tormenting you a whole lot.

Since he's so into masochism, we'll see how brave he is next time when I sneak in a lighter. The suit might be fireproof but I don't think his fingers are.

Somewhere between Naozumi's idiotic game and your patience running thin for the male species, the press finally remembered you existed and your name was called out by a reporter.

"I'm Hina from Daily Times. I have a question for Rai Suruki of Suruki Racing."

"Go on," you nodded with a smile.

"There haven't been a lot of female entries to rally in past years. Are there some goals you hope to achieve with your participation in the Seiko Rally Cup Series?"

That was quite a nice question. She seemed a little unsure of herself, probably new on the job since she was already being mangled down by the experienced male gazes in the room, especially from the reporter clique.

Turns out rally isn't the only industry where women are not welcomed.

"Well," you started, "I hope that if more girls see me out there on track, they can gain the courage to get racing too. Be it karting, rally or any other series. I grew up seeing my father's generation race and it felt daunting getting into it in the first place, since there was little to no female involvement. But times are changing and I hope it's for the better. Goal-wise, I would say the biggest one is to get girls into the sport, technically or behind the wheel," you ended with another smile, making sure she got a good amount of detail to work from.

That encouraged her to show you a bright smile in gratitude before she sat back down. You nodded back at her with one that matched.

"For Raiko Suruki, from Automotive Racing," called out another reporter, much older than the rest. "Heard the car is totally self-manufactured. How's the pace on track so far?"

Ah, technical questions. I like those.

"So far it's good. We're still testing bits and pieces to see what works best, but so far it's responding well to our tinkering. Like any car there's setbacks, as you may have seen in the previous stages, but we're working to remedy that and maximize its current performance. There's a lot of power under that hood and we're trying to see just how much of it we can bring out."

He nodded, scribbling down your words in a stacked leather notebook filled to the brim that has definitely seen better days. At least that said he's passionate about the sport and not just here to get a quote for a flimsy article. True to that, he geared up with another question.

"Performance progress-wise, do you think it's a car able to compete for the cup this year? Maybe even to reach the WRC?"

It was a reach to aim for the title, knowing the team barely got back on the road. But it was a goal nonetheless.

"Absolutely," you answered right away. "We wouldn't be here if it wasn't. As for the WRC, I guess it's all in due time."

"I'm looking forward to your evolution. Thank you," he concluded his short round of questions, sitting back in his seat.

"One more question for Miss Suruki," shouted another reporter. "From Tokyo Action Sport."

Uh-oh.

Tokyo Action Sport was one of the big ones Kate told you to be wary of. Due to their huge coverage of all sports around the country, sports buffs took their word like it was the weekly Ten Commandments in print form. That and the fact that they liked to scandalize most, if not all of their headlines - basically the foul celeb tabloids in dirty sports version.

From the way the reporter twirled the pen around his nimble fingers and the sneer on his face as he skimmed over his fancy notebook, you could tell he was looking for another front page story with an equally disarming question at the ready. You nodded for him to talk, bracing yourself for the incoming attack.

"Last night, at the official car reveal, you said you will compete for Suruki Racing until the team no longer wants you," he started, lifting his icy eyes from the paper to cut through you. "Does that mean your contract has an expiry date?"

If there was a question that, when uttered out loud, would have the power to open the gates of hell, it would be this one.

Expiry date? Driving for the team that has my name on it? Fuck me if I know.

Your nervous tapping resumed tenfold, forgetting all about Naozumi's hand that was still stationed on your leg, now struggling to stay there in the wake of the shaky earthquake coursing through you with the sharp truth of the real world.

You never thought of the possibility of driving for another team. Right from the start, Suruki Racing was to be your forever home. For Christ sake, you were the only hope for the team to stay alive at the moment. But that was just your opinion, maybe Tanaka shared it. But the team might still be adamant to take you as their only viable option and that might just be the case for your father too.

Nothing guaranteed that you will always be their number one choice.

"Why did Suruki Racing pick you out of the wider talent pool out there?"

"Are you trying for yourself or for him?"

"Do you consider yourself a challenge to the rest of the drivers?"

Your nervous shaking was several tempos away from rattling the panel table and attracting attention you were better off without at the moment. The aftermath of that happening was already in sight.

Suruki Racing's finest cracks under the pressure of her first press conference, would read the first page in the later Sunday print.

Is Suruki's own bloodline able to keep the legacy with no surety of a long-term contract? another one would say.

If you were lucky they would put it on the second spread or in the middle pages next to some old car adverts. But the worst part of it all is that the majority of the rally community, including the panel of drivers around you, would wholeheartedly agree with the newspapers.

Maybe this was just you making movies in your head but those were always possibilities upon possibilities and they all pointed to failure. Your failure of saving the team and seeing it succeed if you caved in to them.

The weight on top of your knee moved higher up your leg, stopping mid-way on your thigh. Enraged out of your mind, you were about to swat if off like a fly just when Naozumi did the unthinkable - his thumb started rubbing the side of your leg in circles over the suit, alternating patterns. You could feel that touch burn even through the triple permeable fireproof layers, sending all your senses in override, heartbeat pounding louder in your ears with each languid stroke of his thumb.

Was he trying to calm you down? Or was this him riding on the wave of anger surfacing from the depths of your very being to make you inch closer to exploding? Because there was a thin line between the two and you struggled to find which direction he was steering in today.

Strangely, that mildly provoking but oddly comforting caress worked. It calmed you down and drowned the black hole your mind went down into, bringing your focus back on the task at hand - giving the reporter an answer before your silence was taken as one.

"I'm afraid not," you responded, your voice bouncing back way too quiet on the microphone for it to sound like you were sure of yourself.

A handful of chuckles erupted behind you, rippling down into the audience and the rest of the media crews around the room.

"Everyone has an expiry date on their contracts, doll," commented a gruff voice from behind you. "Better find it out before the press does," they added with a chuckle.

You turned around to match the rude remarks with Katsumi's face, driver for Top Rank Racing. From what you knew about the man, he's been in rally long enough to know that he was right. Though he could've delivered that a bit more nicely.

Casting an unsure look at Kate, you saw her beckon you to say something else, mouthing several pointers that fell unheard with your growing unease. There was nothing else to say. That was the pure truth. No one had a safe seat in rally, except if you were Akira with loads of talent or Naozumi with a shit ton of cash to throw around. But you... you were lucky if there was a next year for you at all. And that might just be the case for your team too, whether it takes off or it burns to charred ashes again. Whether they keep you with them or not. And that realization hurt the deepest of them all.

"There you go again with useless questions, Misano," spoke Naozumi, successfully diverting your attention away from a meltdown.

His voice carried out smooth like whiskey over the shushed murmurs in the room, able to charm the attention of even the stingiest creature. His dark brown eyes were throwing sharp daggers with the aim to impel the man in the middle of the press convoy, almost like he had some personal vendetta against him, able to see past his journalistic tricks better than anyone.

From the few words he uttered your way you could tell why.

"Why don't you wrack your brain for something more interesting to ask?" he added bitterly.

Misano could only glare at him, shifting his attention from you to the man beside you, much more poison seeping from his tone at being interrupted.

"I was just about to get to you Naozumi. Impatient as always," he sneered. "I do have a really good one," he chuckled lowly to himself, like he was about to get the scoop of the century.

Naozumi was absolutely unfazed by his tactics. Just like you were, before he opened his mouth.

"You and Shinkai are in quite the fight to reach the higher ranks of the WRC. Did you solve the misunderstandings from last year to prevent more incidents from happening this time around?"

Naozumi laughed dryly at that, averting his eyes away from the man so overzealous for drama. When his eyes fell back on him, it wasn't with the same playful gaze reserved for toying around with people, but with raw hunger to rip him to shreds until every other word he was dying to write was out and cut to tiny little pieces on the floor.

Even you shuddered at the intensity of that look. You thanked the heavens it wasn't directed at you. If you were in Misano's shoes, you would shove those words back down your throat and run to puke them out somewhere they would be more well received, like the trash can outside, right around the door. That might do everyone in here a favor.

Naozumi finally let go of your leg, turning around in his seat to face the press with more interest. You breathed a small sigh of relief at the loss of contact. But a small part of you mourned the reassurance it provided for a short while, letting the nerves about your future race back up your spine again. At least they were dimmer now, since you put your focus on the charade of power to your left.

"If by misunderstanding you mean forced damage to my car," paused Naozumi with an icy grin matching the gaze that never once faltered from Misano, "then no, we didn't solve anything."

He delivered that affirmation so smoothly that even you leaned over the table to get a better look at him. Contrary to the calmness in his voice, there was a furious annoyance taking over his features. One far more irritated than the other looks you've seen him sport in the past three days.

"You can't solve misunderstandings with hardheaded people," piped in Akira, matching the same sweet venom in Naozumi's voice.

Naozumi could only smirk coldly, dropping his gaze to his team racing suit before he aimed it at Akira.

"That's where you're wrong," corrected Naozumi. "You can't solve misunderstandings with irresponsible people that can't admit to their faults."

It was Akira's turn to be vexed, staring down the man on his right. Those eyes, softer than melted chocolate, turned into the most violent tempest catching speed by the second. Though he wasn't necessarily asked a question, he was just as involved in the one served to Naozumi, so he turned to Misano with a comment.

"I think what Naozumi means by that is that some things are better left in the past. Or swept under the rug for the sake of it."

Point, aim and shoot.

"Let's leave the talking to the track," grinned Akira, patting Naozumi's shoulder in feign respect.

Naozumi broke into a toothy smile, tongue coming out to swipe over his teeth in disbelief. That smile grew and grew until it matched Akira's, just like a Cheshire cat. Then he leant over to him, whispering something in his ear. A threat you just so happened to hear.

"Stay the fuck away from my track. And don't fool yourself that thing was accidental to free your conscience" he mumbled.

The cameras flashed to immortalize the moment, making sure to get all sides of the burning declaration of war. They held each other's gaze with impending rage, pumping hard enough to blow out big dark fumes like messenger torches.

Keeping levelheaded and avoiding conflicts of interest was a rule their agents were probably negotiating with them, not even close to being able to enforce it.

From the looks of it, there was way more tension between the two than they let on with those loaded glances passed from one end of the paddock to the other in between stages. They had history that was better left unraveled for the sake of the rest of the season.

I take it back. The car reveal was a baby next to this shit show.

After that, the rest of the conference went by uneventfully. Surprisingly. The stifling tension however, was still palpable in the air. It was crazy how just one question from Misano turned the mood salty real fast. He hasn't asked anything else ever since, sitting merrily in the audience with a smug smirk, utterly pleased at causing an uproar.

The rest of the reporters went for decent questions as the drivers geared up for mayhem on track. As soon as the organisers let you, you dashed outside, welcoming the fresh breath of air and freedom away from that purgatory room.

Got nine more of those to endure.

"Not bad for your first press conference, rookie."

Was that supposed to be an encouraging pat on the back? If anything it sounded haughty and kind of condescending.

Does it hurt him to shed off some of that superior complex thing he has going on?

Upon remembering his game back in the conference room, you whirled around to him instantly, backing him in a corner so no one could hear your murderous intentions. The flames inside of you were leaping high and violent again. But that must have been the Naozumi effect at this point - setting you on fire then walking away only to come back and kindle you again whenever he saw fit.

"Don't ever touch me again or I will rip your hands and shove them down your cars' exhaust. Understood?"

"It was a good distraction though, wasn't it?" he smirked, pinning you with that knowing look of his that made you want to spit fire like a dragon.

"It was so fucking unnecessary-" you stopped, the rest of your words dying in your throat. "It was so -," you growled. "You're so -"

You gave up on speaking. There was no point in explaining why punching him was the right thing to do because the more you looked at it you realized he was right. That playful stroke was a good distraction from going berserk with all those demons patiently waiting to pick you apart like flies that dove into shit on the side of the road. Even if it was for a while, he managed to calm down your stormy temper. It was a miracle for anyone to even do that in the first place.

He leaned down to you, stopping just a few inches off your face. His eyes drifted down to your lips for a brief second before securing your gaze again with that dark look of his that has probably disarmed more girls than you could count on all your existent fingers, hands and toes included.

"That's what I thought," he said as teasingly soft as a brush on canvas.

Before you could say anything else he walked off, leaving you dumbfounded with your tongue poking your cheek, and kind of questioning your sanity.

He's so goddamn infuriating.

Back in your pen, you took off the suit, changing back in the team kit and made a beeline for the car. There was no time to waste. The crew gathered around you in a heartbeat, waiting for your directions.

The skilled gazes laid on you, full of years of garage work, made you very aware of the fact that they expected full professionalism from you.

God, I hope this works.

"Okay so, we need to change the oil filter," you started. "The oil inside is contaminated and from the looks of it, it's not usable anymore. The filter itself appears to have blown a gasket, so that too needs replacing," you finished in one breath.

"But our oil person isn't here today," Akio, one of the mechanics, pointed out.

"Mister Hinode isn't," you sighed, hoping the old man was enjoying himself for taking the day off today of all days. "But I am. I watched him change enough oil filters back at the garage to know what I have to do."

"Very well. Lead the way," he replied with a nod, fully placing his trust in your hands.

Though slightly unsure, the rest of the team followed. Looking back at Tanaka, you saw him nod too, letting you know he had your back. At the silent show of support, you pushed the nerves away and got to work in your full element.

"What I need from you is a car lift, a drain pan, the new oil filter, and four or five liters of motor oil," you told the team. "Draining it will take about an hour, more or less, and replacing it a little less in theory. We have less than four hours until stage two so we can't afford to lose any time if we want to get something out of today."

"You heard the girl," clapped Tanaka, moving to get all hands on deck. "Let's move."

You turned to Sentaro and the electrical engineer.

"I need you guys to run the electrical checks again, now and after I finish changing the filter, in case anything else goes off and needs fixing so we're on top of it ASAP."

"Got it. Also, regarding the oil pressure, it was on high levels last night when we brought it back from the event, but we thought it was from being out on track for so long," he said apologetically.

"Don't worry about it. It can happen out of nowhere too, especially considering the roads I drove it down yesterday. But do ping Mr. Hinode in case there's something we're missing."

"Thanks, Raiko. You're a lifesaver," he said, walking back to his laptop.

Eh, I'm a what now? you blinked trying to take that compliment in. Shaking yourself out of it, you rolled up your sleeves to your elbows and worked to lift the car at an angle you could fit under it.

Pulling over a creeper, you leaned back and got under, looking for the oil plug under the dirty chassis. Finding it right away, just a little off the underside of the front bumper, you unscrewed it with a wrench. Barely twisted open, the splotchy black goo started spilling everywhere, much more liquid and disgusting than you thought it would be. What was on the dipstick was nothing compared to what spilled out on the sides of the plug. It smelled horrible, like murky grass and three days old mud had a biochemical hazard lovechild. And there was about four liters of that to drain out.

The more you unscrewed the plug, the more it splattered everywhere, some of it flying in your hair. Jerking away so it wouldn't land in your eyes, you turned the plug tugging it off completely. The oil flow doubled right away and you realized you should've had the drain pan under it before you unscrewed it.

"Fucks sake," you grunted, holding out a hand to whoever was close by. "Loosen the oil cap on the top and hand me the drain pan."

A hand pushed the drain pan into your own and you moved fast to shove it under the oil drain, to avoid more of it staining the asphalt.

You slid out from under the hood to breathe in some fresh air, meeting with Kate and Tanaka's faces, looking at you with matching disgusted looks as they took in your very contaminated appearance.

"Your face..." started Kate, pointing at your face as she pinched her nose.

"All natural," you shot back. "You should try it sometimes."

Tanaka howled a laugh as he pulled you up from the ground, handing you a few clean cloths. You wiped your hair as best as you could, frowning at the dirt coming out of it. That will take a lot of showers to take out.

"Now what?"

"Now we wait. And make other checks on the car to make sure nothing else is broken."

Come on, pick up.

Pacing the dusty ground above the stands, you listened as the line rang and rang, each dial tone pumping the nerves back in your system. You were starting to regret this until he finally picked up on the seventh ring.

"I'm in a meeting right now," filtered your father's shushed voice through the phone.

Of course he's in a meeting. That's why he left early this morning. In the chaos with the car and the press, you forgot all about that. Now the scope of the call didn't even really seem that important anymore, preoccupied with the fact that you interrupted something that probably was.

"Raiko? Are you there?"

A car whizzed past on track, pulling roars of cheers from the crowd, prompting you to find a quieter corner.

Was there even a point in asking that?

Fuck it. Just get it over with.

"Does...," you started, but the rest of the words got lost somewhere in the mess in your head. You took a deep breath and tried again, this time sounding a bit more composed. "Does my contract have an expiration date?"

He could tell something was off. You could be as composed as you wanted, but your father could always pick up on the uncertainty laced in your voice.

You heard shuffling, rushed goodbyes and a door closing shut, before a chair creaked. His voice came through more clearly now.

"Of course not. I told you you're welcome to drive for Suruki Racing until you no longer wish to."

Those were the same words you said out loud to the reporter just last night, so sure of yourself and knowing what you wanted that it would be impossible for anyone to second guess it or even challenge your claim to the seat in the team. Until smug-face opened his mouth to comment on it in the press conference today.

"Is everything alright, Rai? I know I left in a rush but if there's anything you need, please let me know."

"Everything's alright," you reassured him, trying to sound more on top of the situation than you felt. "Sorry for disturbing the meeting."

"Eh, don't worry about it. I could use a break," he chuckled, making you chuckle too.

It was so good to finally talk to him like that. Like you were father and daughter for once in a while, before being team principal and driver.

"Are you sure everything's okay?" he asked again, willing to listen to any concerns you had, big or small.

"Yeah," you sighed softly. "It is now. Thanks dad."

He could tell there was more to it than you were telling him, like the issues with the car and missing the first stage, but you didn't push it. Tanaka would catch him up on it later anyways. There was no use in railing him up on a plane right now.

"Always, firebolt. Good luck out there."

That always was your I love you. He wasn't one to be a softie for cheesy stuff, like blurting out those three words, but that always never failed to reassure you that you'll get through anything and come out on the bright side. No matter what.

"Good luck to you too," you piped up, ending the call.

Looking ahead, you caught sight of the Spica Racing blue hues right on time, approaching a rocky corner. Naozumi took it so effortlessly before diving into the last drift portion taking it wide, closer to the barrier, lifting the dust and gravel off the ground to fly off in the stands like a gust of sand.

You backed away coughing a little, shaking your head with a smile at the gesture that was one hundred percent intentional.

At least someone's having fun today.

You got back to the pen at the same time Naozumi pulled up. He got out of the car much more pleased with his run than he has these past few days. He didn't even yell at his engineers this time. Peace and quiet ruled the Sigma Racing pen surprisingly.

Unfortunately for your short lived peace of mind, he caught sight of you and turned your way with a smile as wide as his pride must be flowing in from head to booted feet for completing a stage this nice. If only you had the chance to go out on the road too.

The closer he got to you, he eyed you from head to toe, taking you in all your muddy glory, scrunching his nose at the smell that was still glued to you like you sprayed on intense dirt road cologne. The nasty kind that barely washes out of your clothes after rolling in it. Your clothes also reeked of motor oil. If someone had a flint they might as well light you on fire if you just breathed in their direction.

"What happened to you?" he frowned. "Did you DNF into a bush of skunks or something?"

"Haha, really funny," you deadpanned. "I didn't even start the race for that matter."

Throwing a look at the scoreboard in your pen since it was closest, he scoured all the names of the drivers until his eyes landed on yours, staring back at him with a DNS in bold letters, right at the bottom of the grid. Shameful and defeated wouldn't even begin to explain your sour mood.

"What? How did you even manage that?"

Was he actually concerned or was he just planning to fumble the bag for more insults based on your answer? Closing in on the playful glint in his eyes, it was probably the latter and you were not in the mood for it. At all.

"Engine issues," you sighed, slumping in defeat.

It's been half an hour and you were still waiting for the oil to finish draining before you could actually fix anything. Time was ticking away and so were your hopes of somehow participating in the second stage.

"You missed a spot," he said, gesturing to your face.

Bringing your hands up, you wiped them everywhere coming up entirely clean. Is he seeing things?

He shook his head before coming closer, wiping his thumb over the tip of your nose. Your heart thrummed in your ears, drowning everything else around you but his touch and how close he was. Feeling the callused pads of his fingers on your skin, without all those fibrous layers of the suit between you, felt like being touched by millions of sparks of electricity at the same time. Heat surged on your cheeks quicker than you could hide it.

Him being him, he just had to ruin the moment. Not that there was one there.

Instead of getting the splotch of mud away, he smudged it all across your cheeks with a grin.

"There. Much better," he concluded, stepping back from you, proud of his outstanding work of art.

That only provoked you, flipping the switch on your rage. You kept it under wraps long enough and at this point, he was just asking for it. Not your fault his decency sensors must have been broken since he was born and folded in a blanket.

"I told you not to touch me ever again," you rasped, swatting his hand away a bit too violently.

"Hmm, I don't recall," he hummed, wiping his thumb on his suit to get rid of the dirt splotch he scooped from your nose. "It was probably an empty threat."

An empty threat? Hah. He's really starting to piss me the fuck off.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

Because he had many of them and most of his recent issues included disturbing your peace on an undetermined period.

"I don't really have a problem, rookie," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"Stop calling me that," you seethed. "I'm not a rookie," you breathed out with eyes closed to try and calm the fuse inside of you before it blew. Though you didn't mind if it blew in front of Naozumi's face and set him on fire a little.

"Oh, but you are." He took a step closer to you, broad shoulders branching out to appear more intimidating. "Need I remind you that you stepped foot in the car not even two days ago? A rookie stays a rookie until they prove themselves worthy of the road."

"You think you're the shit, don't you?"

"And you are?" he chuckled darkly. "You don't have the guts for it. Why don't you go back to being daddy's little spoiled princess, driving plastic cars, since it's very obvious you can't drive a real one?"

Naozumi had a talent at making sure his words drove straight to their recipient, cutting deeper than intended, at times with a purpose more painful than the edge of a knife could do damage.

But words were empty to you. You trained yourself not to believe the little white lies and rumors people tried to feed you to stay as far away from letting it affect you as possible. This was just another one of those confrontations meant to throw you off and undo the steps you've already done on the climb towards the top.

Hard pass on downgrading. But nice try.

"At least I'm not the idiot that wrecked the car in the easiest turn in the whole region just yesterday, driving it full speed with an engine failure only to blame it on my team. It takes real skill to pull that off."

His jaw ticked with fresh blood. You definitely ticked a nerve with that. If you're throwing knives at each other, might as well throw them deep just for the funk of it.

"At least I didn't get a DNF and a DNS first time on the job. Your father may have put that winning image in your head to motivate you, but if you think it will be that easy, you're wrong. You will always be a rookie and there's nothing you can do to help it."

If that was supposed to make it hurt more, boohoo, it missed it's mark. Kinda late to the pity party. Might invite you next time.

"Oh, you're one to talk," you scoffed incredulously. "You're nothing without your team and you can't even see that. What's gonna happen when they all walk out and leave you stranded to work on the car all by yourself? Will you magically pay your way out of it by hiring other people?"

"That's none of your business," he hissed.

"Real drivers help their team," you growled.

You were overtaken by a sense of kinship for your team stronger than anything the world could say or throw at you. He probably knew nothing about what it means to make constant sacrifices for something you love body and soul. But he sure had the nerve to come and preach it to you like a total hypocrite since the rules of normal society apparently don't apply to him but they do to everyone else.

"You don't get to tell me how to be a driver," he shot back, tone becoming more menacing with every word.

"And you don't get to trample all over my hard work. My team's hard work. Don't talk to me about privilege when you're living off it just fine."

You didn't even notice you closed the distance to him, getting right up in his face, seeping into his space once more, this time with a different kind of savagery - one that felt a lot like unleashing chaos. You were a brief remark away from spearing your claws out for some physical atoning.

"You don't know shit," he growled, towering over you. "So I suggest you to back the fuck off."

"Or what?," you gritted back.

The corner of his lip turned up with a dark wicked smirk, a warning pledge of fast approaching colossal disaster, just like the words rumbling out of his throat, low and deep like thunder.

"I'll make sure the rest of your time here," he paused, raven eyes boring into yours with intensity before he whispered the last words a mere breath away from your lips, "is a living hell."

A living hell?

I'm already living hell, pretty boy.

You simply chuckled at that. He had no idea that you laughed in the face of danger. He must have thought you were crazy for it. It took more than a threat to steer your wheels in that direction. The direction of sin.

His head tilted in slight confusion at your reaction, though his eyes never left their furious fire behind. You quipped a brow, silently accepting his challenge, wondering just how far he could go to prove a point and preserve his pride in the face of a mere rookie.

"I'd like to see you try."

"You're gonna regret this."

This man loved to make enemies with everyone. But he picked the wrong person to start the fight with. Unfortunately for him and his loud wrathful thunder, vengeful lightning always strikes twice. Always.

"We'll see about that."

Not another word came out of his mouth. But you knew better than to accept his silence as a retreat. His mouth curved, a devilish grin over it, as if he already started devising a wicked little plan in his head to pull the earth from under your feet when you weren't looking.

Regarding you with one more look full of hatred, he pulled back, walking off to his pen.

Little did he know, he just met his match.

Regrets... you had many for yourself. But you were sure as hell that him of all people was the last one to add to them.

Never in a million years would you let that happen.

I wouldn't wish hell upon anyone. Especially mine. But if I had the choice to curse one person in the whole wide world right now...

I would curse him in a heartbeat.

You were sitting outside the pen, glaring at Naozumi's back, until Tanaka called out to you.

"Raiko. The oil has drained out.," he said, stopping in his tracks. "What are you doing out here?"

Googling ways to overcome your enemies with the power of forced distance.

"Nothing," you scoffed, heading back inside.

Time to get dirtier than my soul.

Taking your place back under the car, you worked on changing the oil filter with a new one. Screwing off the old filter entirely by hand, the leftover oil spilled everywhere again. At least there wasn't that much left in the basin to really stain anything.

It would've been nice not to have to do this with your bare hands, but you've been Mr. Hinode's human flashlight enough to know that the filter can only be tightened by a bare hand to make sure it's in the right spot and that none of it can leak out.

"Could you hand me a filter wrench?"

"Here," popped in Akio's head, who now became your human flashlight.

"Thanks."

A little shimmying and the old broken filter finally popped out with the rest of the oil leaking out down your arms. The last drop fell on your forehead. A good luck omen? We shall see.

Passing it to Akio, you motioned to him to shine some light on the broken filter. You noticed the head gasket was indeed damaged.

"Is the new filter ready and rubbed with oil yet?"

"Yep. Good to go?"

"Yeah."

Checking the engine block with the flash light one more time to make sure there weren't any other bits or parts stuck inside, you tried putting the new filter in. You struggled to make it do inside the engine block, moving down a little farther under the car. Not a fun thrill to experience with a ton hanging above you lifted by a tool weighing less.

Please don't crush me, hun. I drive you but I can assure you that you don't want to drive me.

Spinning the part to the right, you finally got it in, puffing out a breath. You screwed it on until you felt it stop turning. You gave it another spin with your hand before you tightened it with a wrench the rest of the way.

"We should be good to go now. Pour the motor oil in."

One of the mechanics poured the oil in on top. You waited to see if any of it would still leak out only to see none.

The new oil filter was successfully attached.

Well fuck me, I just did that.

Rolling out from under the car, you breathed out a sigh of relief as the team started applauding you and howling your name out of nowhere.

"Raiko! Raiko! Raiko!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

They all laughed at your antics. Tanaka and Sentaro pulled you up as the rest threw their cloths at you to send you to shower. Your team kit was sticking to you like you just took a dip in an oil lake, save for the sweat rolling down your back. That one belonged to you.

"You smell as bad as the car after a day on track and I'm saying that in the nicest way possible," said Akio.

"Haha, really funny," you laughed, throwing some of the cloths back with oil stains. "If I had a hose I would drench you all. Don't tempt me."

Little did you know that someone came around to check out what the ruckus next door was about. He watched you from the sidelines, running around to smear the oil on your hands on whoever landed in your range of attack. Most of them didn't even move, welcoming your attack with defeated smiles. The corner of his lip tilted up in a delighted grin at the scene.

Maybe I underestimated her.

"Everything's got the green light, right?"

"Yes, Raiko," Tanaka reassured you for the hundredth time since you stepped in the car. "All other car checks came out good. Stop stressing."

"I'm not stressing."

Well, you kinda were since you lost a lot of points by retiring from the first stage. You needed a clear head before the race and after today it just wasn't happening. You fixed the car before it was time to race, but if you didn't do right by this one, you could kiss any advancement ahead in the series goodbye.

"You saved us today. Any other driver would've ripped their contract to pieces in front of the team if they had to get anywhere near motor oil."

"I think you're forgetting I'm not just any driver," you smirked, pulling your helmet on. "Let's do this shit."

You went out there and enjoyed it for the first time this weekend. Your run was smoother than anything else today. The corners were mostly wide, mid-range turns, and the car felt great with the new oil change. It would be another 3000 miles before you had to change it again and hopefully, the filter would last longer than that.

Even Tanaka seemed to enjoy himself. He didn't reach for the door handle not even once like he was used to whenever he was in the car with you. You did accelerate faster in some turns watching his hand come up halfway only to stop and retract back.

"6 left 100. Flat out."

One hundred meters left to the widest corner left in the race.

Come to mamma.

The dirt flew up in the air behind you, leaving a trail of dust on each side. You dove closer to the left where the stands were, taking the last corner with a large drift that rose up huge clouds of sand from your rear. You heard the roars of the crowd before the puckers from the slide over the gravel, all getting lost in the rave music booming through the speakers.

This is what racing was about. Leaving it all in the hands of the wheel for two minutes where the world quieted down. Being on a one track mind.

Once every driver went for their run, you sat on the hood with the rest of the team waiting for the final update of the track times. You chewed your lip in thinking, tapping your foot on the floor.

I hope all those sacrifices weren't in vain. We all worked way too hard to fall off the track right now. We need this right now.

The scoreboard loaded to display the first three names and all heads perked forward. No one spoke. Not even the wind dared to rustle a banner.

1st place - Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory

2nd place - Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing

3rd place - Takatoshi Tohira - YM Works

Naozumi's ego was strong today. He just so managed to bag podium after that whole show of arrogance. Fucker. Pushing your annoyance for the man away, you focused back on the board.

Come on, load faster.

4th place - Katsumi Ishibashi - Top Rank

I can kiss top five for Tour de Tokai goodbye. So long world.

5th place - Raiko Suruki - Suruki Racing

What the fuck-

Loud cheers erupted all around you like the national football team just won the World Cup. That was totally impossible but you did it. You placed in the first point rankings. You were in top five! Still far away from the podium, but at least you didn't fall off the scoreboard.

Before you even said anything, the screen updated to display the Drivers Championship standings so far.

1. Akira Shinkai - Sigma Racing - 61 pts

2. Naozumi Hiyama - Spica Racing Factory - 53 pts

3. Neil Emerton - Cusco Racing - 47 pts

4. Takatoshi Tohira - YM Works - 38 pts

5. Fairuz Badawi - Eliot Racing - 31 pts

6. Katsumi Ishibashi - TOP RANK - 28 pts

7. Raiko Suruki - Suruki Racing - 25 pts

"It's not much, but they're good points," said Tanaka, patting you on the back. "Amazing work today, lightning strike."

Turning back to everyone, you called out to them. The team gave you their full undivided attention. Your team. Most of these people saw you grow up from a rowdy teenager into the driver you are today. They were more than your team. They were your extended family. You owed them everything.

"I know dad's not here today, but someone has to do the honorary speech" you clapped your hands together, trying to will some normal words out.

"I wouldn't have been able to get out there without you guys. You're the reason this team works like oiled parts, no pun intended."

Some of them laughed at that. You happened to have your father's humor.

"I know there's no podium celebration for us this time, but I will work even harder to bring it to you soon. For now, please rest up, eat well and stay safe. The Fuji Highland Masters round is nearby so we need to get in the gear for it soon."

"Raiko! Raiko! Raiko!"

"Guys, please stop," you giggled, suddenly flustered at all the attention. "Come on, go home. Before the organizers kick us out."

Grabbing your duffel bag with your things, you went back to the race banner. You pulled out your phone and took a photo of it and a selfie.

Your career officially started. It was a rocky start and the climb up to even get a chance at podium was even rockier. But you were willing to fight for it with your teeth.

Suruki Racing was born again this weekend and you were planning to keep it alive for longer than it has before.

Turning around, you cast a look at the podium. Naozumi just received his trophy, smashing the champagne bottle to spray the crowd. That million dollar smile was back on his face, wider and brighter than you've seen it. It almost looked real. Among all that lust for fame and money in his blood, he looked like he fit right in with the haze of celebration. Like he was made to be a winner.

On the other side of the podium, Akira lifted his 2nd place trophy too, fully enjoying the squeals from his fans. You didn't know what came over you, but you pulled your phone out to snap a picture of both of them for safekeeping.

Spotting you on the side about to leave, Akira took off in your direction. His hand tugged on your arm to spin you around.

"Hey!"

"Hey, you," you smiled. "Second place, huh?"

He looked down at the trophy with a small smile, not really reaching his eyes like usual.

"Yeah. Not my best drive but it's alright."

"Could say the same."

"Are you coming to the party?"

"The famed afterparty on Naozumi's yacht?" You looked back at the podium, watching him throw the champagne bottle down his throat, spilling everywhere on his suit in the process. "No, thanks. I'll pass."

"He wants everyone on the grid there. Though I would much rather not go, my agent said it's good publicity. To tame the media after that stunt today or something like that. So, come with me."

After declaring each other mortal enemies, you wanted nothing to do with Naozumi at all. Not even being in his range of view. Going to a party, on his yacht, in the middle of a body of water was the last thing you needed.

"I'll think about it."

A staff member came to pull him away for a quick press interview. He seemed adamant to leave but you waved him off. You were in need of a shower before the mud became one with your skin.

"I have to go," he pressed his lips together in a smile, dimples popping on the sides. "See you back in Tokyo?"

"Sure."

Would going to that party be so bad? I could definitely use some alcohol and if it's free, why the hell not? He must have expensive alcohol on board. I can let my pride go for a free drink.

There was no lie that Tokyo's skyline looked so magical at night, especially on a yacht ride down the central river. Skyscrapers stretched out into the sky, multicolored lights blinking back at you with sparkles. The rich really had this superb view every night and they barely took a ride here if it wasn't for business purposes.

At least yours truly knows how to pick a party location.

Speaking of the man of the hour, you counted about eight girls around him from your secluded spot at the bar. You could hear their high-pitched voices all the way there, asking him all kinds of questions about himself and the car. He just hummed in response to all of them, focusing his attention elsewhere.

If today wasn't so shit and he didn't literally declare war to you, you might have just been a tad bit happy for him. The most you mustered was a mumbled congratulations when you boarded the ship. He just passed you a grin and left it at that.

He doesn't deserve my cheerfulness. He gets it from the world enough as it is. Plus the fact that he invited everyone on his yacht just in spite.

None of the drinks at the bar were for free and most were too expensive for your pocket, so you had to drink a mocktail. Even his hospitability was in mocking.

More girls scooched closer to get a piece of him, tanned arms and bare legs brushing up against him from all sides. He didn't even seem to be bothered in the slightest that his space was being taken up. But he did mind when it was you doing it.

"Then let's make a toast again!"

"Cheers!"

"Congratulations on being the champion!"

The girls cheered and clinked glasses, sipping on the expensive champagne. He joined on the clinking too, though he didn't drink with them, keeping his glass aside.

His eyes drifted from the champagne glass in his hand to you. The small smile on his face turned into a smirk of provocation. A smirk that went right to the epicenter of your rage. He came to kindle that fire again.

Before you knew it, you made a beeline through the crowd stopping right in front of his table. The girls shot you disapproving looks, sizing you up and down in every way they wanted. Picking apart your messy, tousled hair. Your tomboy outfit. Some even mumbled something about your nails not being in fashion. You shot them a look and they stopped looking at you altogether.

Naozumi just regarded you with a knowing look, averting his eyes to the water surrounding the boat in dismissal. You just stood there with your arms crossed, waiting for him to stop his passive ignorance.

"Got something to say to me, rookie?"

Would he explode if he just called me by my name?

"I do actually."

"Then," he extended a hand around one of the girls getting more comfortable with her. She snuggled into his body, giddiness taking over her for getting so close to him. You could feel the jealousy oozing off the other girls, waiting for their turn. "Let's hear it."

He really does have a thing for public humiliation.

Akira stepped beside you, lightly pulling at the sleeve of your leather jacket to get you away from trouble. Little did he know you loved trouble more than anything in the world. Especially when it involved a certain know-it-all with an annoyingly handsome face.

"Rai, let's go," he muttered, aware that some people turned around to watch the scene. "You're better than him. Don't give him the satisfaction."

"I wasn't talking to you, Shinkai," spat Naozumi, not once lifting his eyes away from you. Not even when the girl at his side caressed the side of his neck with obvious want. "Go lick the boots of your own team principal."

"Talk, rookie. Or did the cat get your tongue?"

You want war on and off track, Naozumi?

You have it.

The words were out of your mouth in a heartbeat, not one thought behind them. Nothing but the sole need to see how he would react to being challenged publicly.

"Let's settle it on the road. You and me. Our cars back at the docks."

An illegal race on the streets of Tokyo. Might as well be career suicide for some. But you had way too hanging by a thread, while he only had his pride. Taking that away would be like shoving him off his throne and sitting on it like it was yours.

Best case scenario, you win and leave him with a shattered ego.

Worst case scenario, you lose or end your career.

The only good thing was that the odds were in no one's favour out there on the road. It took skill to win an illegal race in a city that was built up on street racing of the highest stakes.

"What does the winner get?"

"Always so set on winning, aren't you? Would losing something dim your small manly pride?"

His tongue pushed his cheek in the same annoyed manner it would at his brother reprimanding him for being incapable of listening to simple directions.

"That's between you and me," you added, settling on making this as private as you could.

The sudden realization was written all over his face. He knew what you were referring to since you threw his very own words back at him.

"A rookie stays a rookie until they prove themselves worthy of the road."

Ripples of gasps echoed around you, people already murmuring things about you. Until the rumors started being directed at Naozumi and his ability to drive. It was time for him to prove himself worthy of the crowd as well.

Naozumi sat back swirling the champagne in his glass until the liquid was left without bubbles. He seemed to give it a good thought.

There was that curiosity dancing in his eyes again. The same rush of novelty measuring up on your very own. He wanted to know where you would take this if he gave you the chance.

"Fine by me," he said, taking you up on your offer.

Shaking off the female arms circled around him, he got up and threw back that glass of champagne emptying it in one go, before calling out to the captain to turn the boat around. He walked to you, stopping mere steps away from you.

"Where?"

"The hill over there down to the docks. No time cuts, no tricks."

"You shouldn't drive after drinking," you remarked.

He smirked, taking one more step towards you. "Are you worried about me, princess?"

"No," you said, taking one step in his direction.

One more step from each of you and you were chest to chest, facing off like it was a real battle for the very pride of driving. People made a circle around you, staying away from the tension already wafting through the air.

He bent down to your ear. "To settle your worries, it was non-alcoholic champagne. But don't let them know. I keep my alcohol for the big wins."

He really was the biggest asshole on the planet.

The two of you were the first to get off the boat and find your cars, driving them up the top of the hill with some of the crowd from the yacht following right behind. It would be a drive down through traffic and tight corners but it looked much more doable than the roads you've driven through today.

You heard his car purring before he pulled up next to you turning in your seat to gawk at it - a midnight blue R8, a beast of a car compared to yours.

It was an older model, so overpacked with modifications it made your head spin. Nothing on that car looked like it belonged on it and you had a hunch that long hood curving over the engine held a lot more mysteries than the outside body of the car.

He rolled down his window, leaning a hand over it to check yours out too. He scanned it back to front and from the twinge in his lips, he appeared impressed by your weapon of choice. Who wouldn't gape at it when yours was a collection car worth more than three of his yachts together.

"Veilside RX-7. Not bad for a rookie."

He sounded genuinely respectful.

"Thanks."

"I'll give you a five seconds head start," he added.

"I think you could use them a lot more than me," you shot back.

He revved his V8 engine, roaring it to life like a lion looking to claim his rightful throne. You did the same, revving your V6 longer to prepare it for the sprint race. Your engine missed two cylinders and some horsepower but yours had way better grip on the road. Though small compared to his speed intake, you had a shot at winning this.

He was big and wide, a monster under the hood but one that got swallowed on serpentine roads like the one that awaited you. It was a show car. It wasn't made for racing. That and your car was smaller and bunchier, meaning you were able to whizz through corners much faster if needed.

He can't beat me at what I know best.

I was born with the drift in my veins.

And illegal street racing?

Not my first rodeo, pretty boy.

Someone walked to the front stopping between your cars. It was the blonde woman from last night. Shorts that were shorter than your lifespan climbed up her buttocks, joined by a tank top that hugged her boobs better than any of your bras could. A checkered flag hang in her hand, getting rustled by the cool night breeze.

"Not too late to back out," he piped up.

"See you at the finish line. That is if you can keep up," you said, rolling up your window to avoid more of his attitude from seeping inside your car.

You cast a look down to your right at the docks then turned back around to the road.

On second thoughts, Tokyo's skyline looks way better from up here.

The blonde rolled her hand with the flag calling out a count and holding up her fingers. The crowd cheered behind you, already getting gassed by the fumes burning out through the exhausts.

"Three."

It's not about how fast you go.

You revved the engine loud, feeling the car shake with the raw horsepower under the hood.

"Two."

It's about how long you go fast.

Throwing a look at Naozumi, you caught him looking right back at you, that shit-eating grin back on his face.

Fast like lightning.

"GO!"

The flag barely hit the floor when you pressed the gas like a madman. His extra horsepower propelled him a few meters ahead of you. You kept close on his tail, letting him take the tight corners before you so he felt it on his own skin that this wasn't the type of road to get cocky on. Not with a million dollar car like his.

Passing the first two corners, he moved to the middle of the road to cover more ground. He must have realized his car takes way too much space to even drift. And this was a drifting road.

The next corner gave him an opening to shift gears and drift. You went on the outside, trying to overtake him but he was way too wide to get past. You needed a wider corner.

Moving around a rocky hillside, you noticed the road barriers curving down into a wider path, less narrow with more flow.

Naozumi slowed down, reducing his drift angle in the process, rear jerking in a light drift. That's my cue. You pulled the hand brake, pressed down the clutch then quickly stabbed the gas, turning the steering to the left. Accelerating, you flew past him, sliding in front of his car over the middle of the road, slick and smooth like butter on a hot frying pan.

The next turn was just as wide. He accelerated trying to get past you and he almost did if you didn't know him any better. You took the drift faster than him, with the risk of letting the car skid off the road. The tyres screeched loudly at the excess of pressure. Thinking fast, you dropped in the clutch moving down in second gear, finding the sweet spot where the rotations aligned and swerved left into another perfect drift. The roaring growl of the engine was music to your ears.

This is how you drive a car, baby.

A few more turns and you skidded out into intense night traffic. The move from rough to slick asphalt sent your rear wide in the middle of an intersection, passing a red light and being honked at from all sides of the intersection. Naozumi followed right behind you, mere meters away from smashing into your tail lights if you slowed down in the slightest.

You entered a tunnel, whizzing past city cars as fast as you could, overtaking them in fast twisting zig zags. Going back down the hill of the main road, he slid in beside you, pushing the car to its limits to close the gap to you. You didn't let off either, dropping down another gear to rev the engine and push past him.

The docks were just a few blocks away. So close.

Police sirens howled loudly in the distance. One look in the rearview mirror and sure enough the red and blue lights shone bright behind you, heading for you and Naozumi.

Three more police cars pulled up two blocks down, trying to block the street and the two of you from passing through. You shot him a quick look he shared with you, fully aware that this was going to get messy. He threw his head to the blocks on the side, wanting to take the longer route and go around. You laughed at that, turning back ahead.

Go hide, Naozumi. I like to face things head on. You should try it sometimes.

Pressing the gas pedal to increase the speed, you slid in front of him and went through fast. The hands on your speedometer went past 120 kmph. If the officers didn't want to get crushed, they had to pull away. But they didn't. Not that you wanted them to.

You cut the gas, tapped the clutch and steered left really tight, drifting down the lane of the street that was left unguarded. You held on tight to the wheel to stay in control of the car as the force pushed you into the door. Your tyres skidded with a screech at the amount of power, but you drifted into that lane and got the car back around straight, leaving the law enforcement behind you.

Two hundred meters in, you repeated the same maneuver this time to the right and steering wide, diving into another turn down the street, completely losing them. The farther away you got, the less you could hear the sirens. They didn't follow.

One thing about police here: they didn't give a fuck if they didn't stop you on the first try. With the amount of street races around Tokyo at night, they gave up on speeding tickets too. If you can do better than one-eighty they can't catch you. They just liked showing up for some ruckus for people to know they were worth their taxes.

Naozumi slowed down behind you, unable to understand how you got away. He followed your drift on the stretch, miscalculating how wide and low he was as his wheels got up on the sidewalk, scraping his front bumper in the process.

Circling around the last blocks with him in tow, he raced up to you, catching speed until he reached you again.

Now it was finally head to head.

Eight hundred meters stood between his dignity and your career getting knocked off and thrown into the river. None of you backed off, increasing the speed to inhumane limits. Not even the rally cars went this fast. The tyres gripped the asphalt hard, engine thundering under the hood, wheel quivering in your hold the faster you drove.

Five hundred meters.

On your left, his R8 got closer, trying to take away from your ascent. A lower portion going under a bridge came up ahead with a tight corner between the pillars. You veered under it, drifting with his car at the same time. He took the inside pushing you off into the rocky sidewalk as payback for his scratched bumper. Your rear wheel caught onto it, swaying the car off the road. The tremors shook your seat the more you drove over the rocks and you managed to get off it just before you smashed into the pillar, sliding back on the road.

Motherfucker.

You pushed the car even faster to catch up to him. You played fair and square and he was pulling tricks. Fairplay was in the trash at this point when it comes to him. What was worse was that you expected more, but maybe that was a mistake.

Three hundred meters.

The size of a football stadium stood between you and the finish line. The docks were now in view, tall and shabby warehouses littered on the sides of the road. Time for Plan B.

Just because I don't have one between my legs doesn't mean I can't act like a dick too.

You let go of the throttle, slowing down to fall behind him and tailed him, sticking to his end like a leech. He liked to play dirty. At least he could have a taste of his own medicine.

He tried to shake you off, going in chicanes and slowing down in the process. He was growing impatient and it showed because you weren't letting off his tail not in even a little, keeping close to his end. If you had more horsepower you could've kissed his back bumper for shits and giggles.

He tried his hardest to lose you, turns getting Once he steered right really wide, you took the opening and accelerated, speeding through ahead and leaving him behind. You turned to wave at him with a smile as you passed by, bolting through to the end.

You whizzed past the redhead waving the checkered flag, getting the crowd yelling as you drifted around them, lifting some of the dust up in the air as you did some victorious doughnuts. Naozumi pulled up behind you and you circled him a few times before you stopped in front of him.

That dark look in his eyes was full of hatred just a few hours ago. Now, it turned furious with rage, pride absolutely shattered. He took a gamble on your inexperience and he lost the game he started so confident in his own powers.

Everyone rushed to your car to cheer on you. You got out shocked at the crowd pooling in. Akira bolted through the endless mob of people, reaching you and bringing you in a bone-crushing hug you couldn't help but melt in.

"That was batshit crazy! We could see everything from down here."

"I know," your voice came out muffled from being tucked in his shoulder. "I can't believe I did that."

"Well," he pulled apart to hold onto your shoulders, "believe it 'cause you absolutely just did that."

The crowd started chanting your name and you couldn't help the giddiness overtaking your senses. Some of those people were either drivers or really famous and they were calling out your name with excitement.

You might have fallen off the track today but you won the crowd tonight. This was yours to enjoy fully and no one could take it away from you. You earned it. You proved that you belonged on the road.

Naozumi finally cut the engine off. He slumped back in his seat for a moment before he got out to inspect the damage on the front of his car. You walked over to him to see him threading his fingers over the scratched paint stretching over to a dent, covering a good part of the corner in front of the right wheel.

"That looks nasty," you said.

He shot you a look filled with hatred. That graze looked worse than nasty could describe and from how he grinded his teeth in annoyance, it looked like it was entirely your fault in his head.

Not one word was uttered between him getting back in his car and speeding away, leaving his victory celebration for you to enjoy.

I think I scratched his ego too.

Akira slid in beside you, eyes trained on the back of his car, watching it drift away until you could no longer see it.

"Is it wrong that I feel bad for him?"

"Nah, you earned this. He's just complicated." Then he paused, rotating to you. "Frankly, I don't think anyone threw him off his high horse this hard before. Not even me," he said with a grin, happy at Naozumi's demise.

Maybe he was right. Naozumi was a really complicated person. But the more you faced each other on and off track, the more you got to know more about him. And the more your hands inched closer to unravel that puzzle on the shelf with his name on it.

One thing was for sure.

After today's events, that plastic foil on his puzzle box was entirely gone. And one of your dying curiosities was satisfied tonight.

You now knew what made Naozumi tick.

And it wasn't losing.

🏎️Glossary of terms and other useful information 🏎️

The Points - Points in rally get awarded on a top 10 places basis. Depending on the placement at the end of the final stage, the score one gets differs. First place can get as high as 25 points, while tenth place gets only one point. *The last stage is called the Power Stage, giving drivers in top five extra points in the overall standings.

Drivers Championship standings - The overall points gathered over the course of all rounds. If you're familiar with F1, it is the equivalent to the Drivers' World Championship standings.

Downshift - One of Raiko's favourite things. Changing gears from an upper one to an inferior one, where the car revs up before it speeds up. Also the sweet spot where the rotations align and the engine roars.

Thank you for reading! Please leave a note, comment or reblog :)

Taglist: @ellisaworld @howimeetyoukit @jonnelpunk @nadlx33333

#runaway 🏎️🏁#naozumi hiyama #naozumi hiyama x reader #naozumi hiyama x you #overdrive fic #akira shinkai #akira shinkai x reader #overdrive mackenyu

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bangtanhoneys · 1 year

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GRACE TOUR Diary - March 17th 2025, Seoul

It was two days before her tour officially started.

Grace wasn’t going to shy away from the fact that her stomach was in knots and she was getting very little sleep due to nerves. Her mind was in constant turmoil over things that may go wrong, something may happen, this thing might happen, this costume may not fit. Her team had planned for everything and anything including weather, backup costumes, backup shoes, and even a backup team.

Nothing could go wrong yet her brain was thinking otherwise.

Her days started early, around 6am, with a couple of meetings with her team (affectionately known as the Queen’s Guard), then it was vocal rehearsals then dance practice and depending on the day, a couple of hours in the gym to get her stamina up while singing.

She hadn’t performed on her own before, especially for a two hour concert. There was no opening act, no other acts on as support - it would just be her, the band and the dancers.

To keep the crowd entertained.

A crowd that probably had come to see her fail.

That was one of her worries - it wasn’t that ARMY wasn’t going to turn up, it was all the haters as well. And not only that, she had seen the list of celebrities who had secured their VIP tickets early. That made her nervous.

And all the dates had sold out fast to the point where extra dates had to be added and the two last dates in Seoul had sold out within minutes, including the VIP tickets for idols, celebrities, and politicians.

It would be her peers carefully watching - wondering if she could perform on her own, if she could handle the weight, if she could handle her own songs, choreography, high notes and costumes. She’d be fine once the first song was done because after that, who gave a shit.

But for now, it was the constant thoughts that were keeping her up all hours of the night.

Seokjin & Hobi were home from the military now and they had been constant support, checking in and being there for whatever meeting or practice was taking place while dealing with their own schedules and plans. The others had been checking in as well through phone calls and texts, keeping an eye on the progress.

Her eyes stared at the night sky from where her curtains were open and if she listened carefully, she could hear some of the population of Seoul still going even at three in the morning. She had gotten about four hours of sleep and she had to be up in an hour to get showered and ready to head over to HYBE for a final day of rehearsals.

The weight of her cat next to her pressed into her side and she reached over, running a hand down the soft white fur. At least one of them was getting his beauty sleep. Seeing as there was no point, Grace carefully got out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. There were bags starting to form under her eyes, so that meant the make up team were going to complain, but the hot shower helped relax her muscles. Her newly dyed hair had stayed it’s amazing shade of blonde and she kept forgetting about it until it caught her eye in the mirror. That had been Seokjin’s suggestion - new hair colour for a new era.

She had a small breakfast and filled up Min-Ji’s food and water bowls, taking her small cup of tea to the living room where she plonked herself on the couch. The news played in the background as she pulled her phone off charge, seeing if there were any updates from anyone but the messages remained silent.

“With two days to go, fans are already queuing for merchandise and to experience what HYBE has put on in terms of a festival around the Gocheok Sky Dome. BTS’ Grace Chu will start her first solo tour here before heading over to Los Angeles and the rest of the world. The In My Head Tour has already sold out across the globe and no tickets are available, anywhere. However, HYBE has offered live streaming of the last two Seoul dates for those who have missed out on what is expected to be the tour of the year,” the newscaster said on the TV, catching Grace’s attention.

The program showed the tents already lining up and some of the things HYBE had planned, including reruns of RUN BTS episodes, focus solely on Grace and even her BT21 character was around. Fans had the opportunity to take pictures with various cardboard cutouts of her and it warmed her to see how many ARMY bombs were already lit.

“We can’t wait,” one foreign ARMY said once the camera was on her. “I’ve been in Seoul for about three years now and the moment I heard she was planning a tour, I knew I had to buy tickets. She’s my bias and she really inspires me as a woman and as an artist. She’s different from other idols as well - she doesn’t let her career define her or her character and she doesn’t care if she goes against the standards this country sets her in. She’s really an icon of this age.”

Another ARMY appeared, this time a male fan who had one of her t-shirts on. “There are many comments online about how she contrasts against the likes of IU, Blackpink, and she can’t compare really. She’s humble, quiet, unassuming yet insanely talented. I’ve watched so many fancams and videos from fans of other artists and in every one of them she’s consistent. So I’m really looking forward to what she’s going to bring for her solo tour.”

The program returned to the newscaster who showed figures of what income this tour was going to bring to HYBE, Big Hit, the tourism economy and the government. And what the stakeholders' shares were climbing to. All in all, it was going to be a commercial success.

Whether it was going to get the ratings like Yoongi’s and Blackpinks tour, as they were the two being used in comparison the most, that would remain to be seen.

Grace swallowed the last of her tea and stood, stretching out her legs and back. “Well, let’s get this tour on the road then.”

#bts 8th member #bts additional member #bts eighth member #bts female member #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts drabble #bts scenario

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ialwaysknewyouwerepunk · 1 year

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Ellaaaa please tell us about your show!!! I want the whole account (if you want to/when you have time ofc)!! I'm so happy you got to hear fine line live ahhh you totally deserved it!!!

AAAAAAHHHHHHHH KIND ANON I CAN SCREAM ABOUT IT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

so we had front of stage tickets and it was 100% the best ticket ive ever had so far: zero effort for an insane view and a fantastic place in the crowd with all the space we needed to dance and more. i've queued before and just really never want to again for more than enough reasons, and here was shown how i seriously didn't need to.

wet leg was epic. i am obsessed with them they are so fucking cute and also cool and also hot and also good. yes. i screamed my frustrations to the sky with them and all was good in the world.

and then. i'll just say immediately that the setlist is fantastic and definitely the best collection of songs i've ever heard of his, despite lights up not being there. the beginning was super fun and energetic, he is a master showperson, but it's in a way that is uniquely his. you can look at him and be in awe of the grandiose performance filling that entire stage, and then see that he's also smirking, skipping along the runway and pulling faces at his band. it's just. !!!!!!!!! you know?!?!?

my soul left my body during stockholm syndrome. goosebumps forever, bc of the sheer disbelief that im hearing a 1d song live. harry smiling, us screaming.

i've always wanted to hear she live, too, so that was just... mesmerizing. there were orchids projected on stage and it was all so perfectly fitting. our orchid, our mermaid. note the colors as well :')

then it was a big fucking party. just dancing and singing like we've never done before. he really felt happy and like he felt good, so happy and jokey. he grabbed Three pride flags during tpwk, and this was my first time witnessing the brass quartet as well. it was a BIG FUCKING PARTY

grapejuice is also so fun live. it's always such an experience to hear him sing a song live that he hasn't really sung before. i could tell that it's a tough one to sing, but he made it fun and quirky and cute.

aaaaaand THEN HE SANG FINE LINE. he sang fine line. holy shit. this is like. i grieved when he decided to stop singing it last european leg, it hit me hard. i think i've said it a shitton of times already on here but fine line is a song i listen to every morning and every night, it's the only thing that can calm me through a panic attack. it's an anthem of perseverance, hope and self-love. hearing it live was just me being transfixed, mesmerized, by what was unfolding in front of me, and slowly crying more and more. a tight tight hug from @bluewinnerangel through the sobs at the end was necessary bc we were all falling apart. in the best way

the darkness and pause after that were also necessary to get us back on track, for a show that was going to rake us through the entire spectrum of the human emotion once more. sign of the times was just. gasp

the PARTY that then ensued during wmyb. that bse intro is something else. any 1d reference obviously unlocks something unhinged in my brain that makes me fucking lose it, but hooooly shit. it goes SO HARD. wmyb always does and i'll never get sick of it.

to finish us off, of course, we have our rock: kiwi. the heaviness of that intro is addictive. his menacing gaze when he's choosing who to soak. the fucking SONG GOES SO HARD. IM HAVING YOUR BABAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

and then it was over. but it felt extra extra good bc i knew i would be experiencing it again hahahrghr and my body is definitely stiff from the legit workout i did during the concert last night so. holy shit fuck yes

#kind anon #my munich shows

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deathclassic · 6 months

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tag game wedenesday thursday

thank you @iansw0rld @sgtmickeyslaughter @spacerockwriting @rayrayor and @energievie for the tag, it's really appreciated <3

Name: Molly

Age: Twenty five

Location: Somewhere in Australia

And now...

Latest music discovery: I've been listening to a lot of south korean and japanese metalcore bands lately, really digging 'end these days' and 'synsnake' from south korea as well as japanese bands like 'break your fist', 'foad', 'c-gate', 'knosis', 'daybreak of silence', 'falling asleep', 'make my day', 'prompts', 'azami' and 'girugamesh'

Latest movie: final destination 3 i think

Last TV show you finished: uhhhh probablyyyy only murders in the building

Most recently started book: nope

Most recent trip out of town: i went to a funeral a few weeks ago

Most recent trip out of the country: never left the country

Most recent gift you made yourself: made? idk i have a lot of self indulgent ian and mickey drawings that are too obscure to post

Most recent gift you made to someone else: probably for the gallavich gift exchange where i drew a blink 182 inspired piece for ms-moonlight-inn

Most recent text message you received: from my mum 'i saw you in photos at bring me the horizon on twitter, looks fun! good spot'

Most recent text message you sent: lmao i sent like 5 to my mum after that one and she didnt respond to any of them! so the last one was 'here'

Last fic you read: oh! i re read @callivich 's masquerade fic this morning - weight of the world

Last drink you had: hot choccy

Last thing you ate: a piece of bread when i got home from bring me the horizon last night

Latest piece of clothing you bought: a bring me the horizon tour tee, a bring me the horizon hoodie and a bring me the horizon longsleeve,,,,,

Latest piece of advice you received: 'take the hot cross mix out of the fridge when you start mixing the buns so your hands aren't cold'

Latest piece of advice you gave: 'if you go down the sides of a crowd you're more likly to get barrier even if you didn't camp out'

Latest thing you promised yourself: go to sleep whenever you can

im really really sorry if you've been tagged and have already done it :(

@creepkinginc @heymrspatel @heymacy @gardenerian @stocious @transmurderbug @transmickey @ian-galagher @callivich @suzy-queued @crossmydna @too-schoolforcool

#tagged #tag game #mutuals

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deannagrey · 9 months

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Just Dare Me: Chapter 2 (4/4)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

My second attempt on the bull went much smoother — which isn’t saying much but I did manage to mount it this time. I yelped in celebration, tossing both hands in the air like I was a ref calling a touchdown. A few people nearby clapped for me, too. My workwear appearance was starting to garner attention. Could a cubicle worker stay on a bull longer than resident riders? Stay tuned to find out.

David gave me a clap as well. It was slow and mocking to match the glint in his eyes. He was so ready for my fall.

“All good?” the operator asked when I finally stopped squirming around to find a decent position.

“Not much traction,” I complained, mostly to myself.

“That’s the point,” David reminded me.

The operator chuckled and nodded in agreement. “You ready to start?”

“One sec,” I said and held my middle finger out at David. He laughed and returned the gesture. “Okay, now I’m good to go.”

The machine kicked into motion. Despite the slow, steady back and forth, I squealed enough for the operator to repeatedly ask me if I wanted to stop.

“No, no.” I gripped the strap so tight I thought my wrist might pop out of the socket. “I can do this.”

Somewhere along the line, I made up my mind that I was going to try for the record. Yes, occasionally, I could be one of the densest girls in the world. My toxic trait was thinking I smash any goal set before me. I might mope, whine, and complain about doing something new. But when push came to shove I always went big before going home.

A few onlookers whistled and cheered for me when they realized I didn’t go flying off the bull in the first second. Instinctively, my legs tightened and my body moved in rhythm with the machine. I was moving too fast to make out anyone, least of all David. I knew for a fact he was still watching me though.

The operator asked if I wanted to go a notch up. I gave him the yes signal. Bad idea. My neck whipped around enough that I knew I'd feel soreness in the morning. And my ass cheeks…god, I thought my upper body would be getting most of the beating during this process.

As to be expected, I felt like a loser on this silly machine. Had to look like one, too. Was there any way to look good on a bull? There had to be some kind of technique because the up and down came off as a bit erotic when I watched clips of some people.

Once again, the operator asked if I wanted to go up another notch. I gave him a thumbs up. My hand barely went back down before I got thrown headfirst into the mat. Thankfully, I landed on my side and not my head. The fall was rough enough to knock the wind out of me. My small crowd cheered for me. I stayed flat on my back, not moving as my brain caught up to my body.

“You okay, Miss?” the operator sounded worried, but it was David who joined me on the mat.

His head appeared over mine. I got an upside-down view of his face because. He placed his hands on both sides of my head, leaning in to get a better look at me. The worry in his eyes was new. It blossomed, traveling from his eyes to his jaw, making muscles tight. I triggered a lot of emotions for David. Mainly ones that sparked arguments. But this emotion looked ready to trigger an apology.

“You going to help me up? Or did you just come in here to admire my beauty?” I reached out my hand, trying to see if this new mood would stick around. Maybe my near-death experience would make him finally offer a nice word to me.

David stared at my outstretched palm like it was poisonous. His worry melted into nonexistence when he saw me smile.

“Get up,” he ordered in a hard voice. “You’re holding up the line.”

I scowled and pushed myself into a sitting position. Sure enough, people were queued up, voluntarily willing to get yanked around until their brains rattled. I fumbled my way off the mat, nearly tripping when I realized how dizzy I felt. My boots were gone from the spot where I left them. The operator nudged his chin toward David who was a few paces away.

“Nice work. Nowhere near record level but…” The operator shrugged and handed me a drink voucher. There was a number written on the back of it. “This one’s on me.”

The wink he gave me before I left went straight to my head. I guess I didn’t look too foolish on the bull.

“You know what?” I said as soon as I caught up with David.

He raised a brow as if he could care less. My boots were in his hands, and I left them there for the time being, enjoying the idea of having a personal caddy for the night.

“I think I’m having that drink,” I said, waving my voucher back and forth. “Got to celebrate my victory after all.”

David frowned and said, “Fine. After you.”

#westbrookeangels

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pixelrhys · 16 days

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Some nightmare fuel for the morning crowd. I'm queuing this post.

#horror #horror art #unreality #found footage #my ocs ft tim #original character #original characters #digital art #artists on tumblr

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cryley · 1 year

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Petrichor - Part 2

matty healy x reader (fluff) word count: 4.3k warnings: mentions of alcohol and cigarettes A/N: (moved from @cryley-fics where it was originally posted) Hello again! Hope you enjoy this part, as it's a bit longer than pt 1 ♡ ▹ masterlist ▹ part 1 ▹ part 2 ▹ part 3 ▹ part 4 ▹ part 5

I pulled out my bag from the backseat of my car and made my way to my apartment. Today was a long day for more reasons than one. Now I can just focus on showering off the sticky syrup and coffee from my body and get ready for the show tonight.

My brain honestly couldn’t process that Matty came into my work this morning…and now has my fucking phone number. As I threw my backpack on my couch, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see if anything from him came through.

Nothing.

A little disappointed, I walked to my room to get ready.

The memories of our conversation swirled around my head while I frantically threw clothes around my room. Would he ever text me? Will I see him after the show? Will I ever get to talk to him again?

I picked out a pair of black ripped mom jeans and a black cropped tank top. I decided to just straighten my hair and do my everyday makeup look. Sliding some contacts in my eyes, I decided that I should try to grab some food before the show. Picking out my pair of black Dr. Martens and my handful of jewelry, I moved out to my couch to put them on.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket to check the time.

Maybe: Matty

Hey love, it’s Matty. Want to join us at the venue early? We’re having some food delivered and I can manage to get you a good view if you’d like. Would love to continue our conversation from earlier.

My heart skipped looking down at the phone. I immediately added his number to my contacts before navigating back to the message.

Hey Matty 🙂 I’d love to join you! When and where should I be?

After I hit send, I started to panic a little. Meeting Matty while off guard at work was one thing, but this time I knew what was coming. I anxiously tapped my fingers on my knees waiting for a response. I guess I might as well make sure I have everything in my bag before I leave.

Charger, keys, wallet, ID, gum, Advil, hair tie, ticket, everything’s there.

My phone chimed.

Amazing! Go to the talent entrance near the buses. I’ll have someone let you in, just make sure to have your ID so they know it’s you. I’ll need your surname too. How about 4:30?

It was already 3:30, so I guess I should get going soon. I typed my response and made sure to triple-check what I wrote before sending it.

Y/L/N. I’ll see you soon 🙂

I grabbed my bag, slid on my jacket, and started out the door. At least it stopped raining, but the slight chill in the air was still there.

Driving to the venue was filled with anxious drumming on the steering wheel, humming to my playlist, and trying to not panic and turn my car around. Looking at the clock, I realized I had some extra time and would get there early, so I stopped at a gas station near the venue to grab a water bottle.

A group of girls were at the register wearing black skirts, white dress shirts, black ties, and black leather jackets. I chuckled to myself and shook my head. Well, I know where they’re going.

Sooner than I realized, I was parking in the garage next to the venue. There were a couple of cars here already, but not completely full like I’m sure it would be later.

I took a deep breath and grabbed my bag. It wasn’t hard to find the venue with the hoard of people queued up and waiting outside the doors. Now to just find the talent entrance door. This door was almost equally easy to find. There were maybe a dozen people or so huddled around a barricade separating the walkway from the busses to the side door so that talent could freely enter the venue without being swarmed.

Behind the small crowd of people and the barricade was a very tall, very buff man in a black t-shirt and a radio pinned to his belt. He was looking around the crowd of women, but none of them seemed to pay him any attention.

“Uh hey. I’m Y/N.” I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my ID to show the very tall, very buff man.

After glancing at my name, he unlatched the gate. As he let me through to the walkway, he radioed for someone to unlock the side door.

“You can head over. Someone should be letting you in shortly.” He smiled a gentle smile before switching back to serious mode.

Some of the small crowd whispered as I walked closer to the entrance. The door opened to a friendly face.

“Hey Y/N?” He asked as I nodded, “I’m Jamie. Nice to meet you! Come on in.”

The tall blonde man gestured for me to follow him through the corridor. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans with a baseball cap on his head. It looked like it was a 1975 hat.

“So how do you know Matty?”

“He came into my work this morning to get some coffee and I told him I’d be at the show tonight,” I explained as my eyes darted around at all the artwork and band posters on the walls.

We entered a larger room that looked to be the back of the stage. I could see all of the instruments lined up to go out on stage. There seemed to be a quite large section of instruments on one side and I’m guessing for the opening acts were smaller sets of instruments on the other side.

Jamie smiled, “Well we are glad to have you. We don’t get new company too often on tour. It’s a lot of the same faces, you know?”

“I’m just happy that Matty invited me.” I chuckled as we entered another hallway.

This hallway was a bit smaller and housed a lot more doors than the other. Some of them were open, but most of them were closed.

“Most of these are offices, but Matty should be just through here.” He gestured to the door to the right of us, “He should be expecting you, so you can pop right in. We should be getting the food delivered pretty soon, so I’ll meet up with you all in a bit.”

“Thank you so much for walking me in.” I gave Jamie a big smile before he waved and walked off back in the direction we came from.

My heart started to pound heavily as I read the paper sign on the door now in front of me. THE 1975.

Opening the door, I was greeted by Matty springing up from the large couch. He came towards me with his arms spread out for a hug and the largest grin on his face.

“Y/N!” He said as he engulfed me in a hug.

He touched my arm earlier today when I was on break, but it wasn’t like this. I was fully consumed in him. I sighed into the hug that caught me off guard and awkwardly hugged back. His long arms were wrapped around me and my head was tucked against his collarbone. He smelt of cigarettes and expensive cologne.

“Hey, Matty.” I muffled into his neck, “Thanks for inviting me.”

“No worries. You gave me a free scone earlier, so the least I could do is get you some food and a better spot at the show.” He looked down at me and winked.

I finally broke the hug, regretfully so, to take in the room. Soft music was playing from speakers around the room, but other than that it was pretty quiet. Coats and bags were scattered about the room as well as some guitars and drum pads here and there. A minibar was in the far corner of the room and appeared to be fully stocked. In the opposite corner was another door labeled as a restroom.

“Make yourself at home.” Matty walked back over to the couch and plopped down, “The other guys are on the bus getting ready.”

Matty appeared to already be dressed and ready for the show. He was dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt that currently hung open to show a white t-shirt underneath. On the clothing rack beside the couch, I could see a black blazer and black tie.

I walked over to join him on the couch. He seemed like he wanted me to sit next to him even though it was a very large couch big enough for at least 5 people. As I sat down next to him, I realized that the top of his chest tattoo peeked out from his undershirt.

“You ready for the show?” I started to pull off my jacket.

He smiled at me and reached for his acoustic guitar next to the couch. He placed it in his lap and grabbed a pick from the neck under the strings.

“Yeah. Usually, before shows, I just eat some food, do some vocal warm-ups, and then take a shot or two.”

He carefully checked each string to make sure it was in tune.

“How was the rest of your day? You know, after the cafe.” I said as my eyes met his.

He smiled and leaned back into the backrest, “Pretty quiet. Went back to the bus for a bit to take a quick nap and then got ready for tonight with soundcheck and all that.”

“Lucky you.” I yawned uncontrollably.

His gaze traveled to the tattoos on my body he hadn’t previously seen. I had a good amount of coverage on my body, but mainly my left arm, some of my torso, and a good amount of my legs.

“I really like your tattoos by the way. I only really saw the box and lyrics from earlier because it stood out to me, but there’s a lot of good art all over.”

“Thank you! I’ve had fun collecting them over the years. My 1975 tattoo was actually one of my first tattoos. The lyrics came much later.” I smiled and turned it to face him.

“Matches mine.” he winked and turned his own box tattoo to face me.

We could hear a group of chatter coming from the hallway before 2 very tall men walked through the open doorway. I quickly recognized them to be George and Ross. My face immediately felt flushed.

Matty leaned back once more in his seat, “Guys! This is Y/N. The bird from the cafe I told you about earlier.”

Ross smiled in my direction and pushed his hand towards me for a handshake.

I grabbed it in mine and was immediately aware of how small my hand felt compared to his, “Nice to meet you!”

“Glad to have you.” George followed after Ross shook my hand doing the same, “You meet artists often at work being so close to the venue?”

“Surprisingly not. This is actually a first.” I shook George’s hand feeling equally as small as the handshake before.

George and Ross looked to be ready in their clothes for the show. George was dressed in similar black slacks to Matty and an all-black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Ross looked to be wearing the same uniform as George. I guess they maybe planned the coordination for tonight.

“Where’s Adam?” Matty looked at the clock hanging above the door frame.

“Waiting for the food with Jamie.” George answered in his low voice, “I think we are getting sandwiches and salads from a place in town.”

Ross plopped down on the couch next to me, giving me a small smile, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all! I’m the one invading your space, so you can sit wherever you’d like.”

“You aren’t invading at all,” George sat in the smaller chair across from the couch, “we were excited that Matty was inviting someone since we don’t have any guests coming to this tour date. We enjoy good company.”

Matty pulled out his phone and navigated to Instagram. It was wild seeing how many notifications and messages he had. I’m not surprised at all.

He nudged my shoulder with his and handed me his phone, “What’s your Instagram?”

I made eye contact with him and squinted my eyes trying to peer into his brain. He smiled as I reluctantly took his phone out of his hand and typed my username into the search bar. Once I found my account, I handed the phone back to him.

“Thank youuu.” he sang while hitting the follow button.

I didn’t really expect him to follow me immediately. Maybe just look at the photos I had on there or something, but I felt all warm and fuzzy knowing that he wanted both my phone number and social media.

“Food’s here!” a voice called in the hallway before we saw Jamie and Adam enter the room each holding large brown boxes.

The 3 boys and I all stood up to help Jamie and Adam set out the food on a small table in the room. Adam smiled in my direction and stopped what he was doing to properly shake my hand.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Adam.” He greeted me with a warm handshake.

I smiled, “It’s amazing to meet you too! I’m Y/N.”

He cheekily gave me a knowing look and then his eyes darted over to Matty. Damn, did Matty tell everyone about meeting me today?

“Well Y/N, make sure you grab some food. We usually end up getting way too much and have leftovers.”

I nodded and pivoted to head to the table where the food was laid out. Matty made his way over to me with a salad in hand.

“Would you like anything to drink? I can make you a drink or we have some really good wine too.” He spoke in a low voice.

“Uhm I’ll take some wine actually if you don’t mind.”

I haven’t had good wine in a long time. I was used to shitty beers and ciders in dive bars.

Matty’s smile stretched across his face, “Good choice.”

He sauntered his way over to the mini bar as I turned to the food table. I grabbed the first salad I saw and brought it back over to my spot on the couch.

Matty returned to the couch with two glasses of red wine.

“So what other things are you into other than my band and coffee?” Matty questioned as he sat down next to me and handed me my glass of wine.

I immediately took a sip of the wine, “I read a lot, I also draw and paint sometimes.”

“Oh, you do art?” Ross chimed in after he finished a mouthful of his sandwich.

“Yeah, I majored in photography at art school, but did a fair amount of fine arts classes for my minor like pottery, sculpture, painting, and too many others to count,” I answered while opening my salad.

“I’ve tried pottery before. It’s pretty difficult to get the hang of.” Adam chimes in as he sits in the chair next to George.

I nod and go back to my salad. George, Adam, and Ross start chatting about the previous shows and flow into discussions about new instruments they purchased. The last way I expected today to go was sitting in a room eating salad with the 1975.

“Hey, would you like to join me outside for a smoke?” Matty leaned over to whisper to me.

“Ok.” I shrugged, placing my empty salad container on the table and finishing my last sip of wine.

I followed Matty out of the room and to the hallway. He made sure to stick close to me as we made our way through the winding halls. I could smell his cologne. He smelled warm and comforting.

“Excited to see the show?”

“Of course! I’m really excited to see you perform the new album. I haven’t seen you guys since I think 2017 or 2018.”

He smiled back at me as we entered a door I didn’t notice before. It led to a small outdoor smoking area that was private to the venue. The chill of the wind swept over my noticeably bare arms.

“Fuck, you forgot your jacket! Here,” he immediately took the cigarettes out of his pocket before sliding his blazer off of his shoulders, “take mine.”

Just as I was about to politely decline the offer, he already placed it over my shoulders.

“Thank you.”

He waved his hand, “No need to thank me Y/N. Would you like one?”

He placed a cigarette between his lips and held out the box to me. I nodded and slid one out of the pack. Matty slowly walked over to the bench that was sitting in the middle of the small outdoor area. He patted the seat beside him for me to join him.

“So how old are you if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked as he lit the end of his cigarette before handing it over to me.

“I’m 25.”

“Probably should’ve asked that before giving you wine.” He chuckled to himself.

I giggled and lit the cigarette. I’m glad he is letting me use his jacket. It’s still cold and wet outside from the rain earlier today. Matty kind of seemed a bit chilly now in just his thin overshirt and t-shirt.

As I took a drag of the cigarette, I leaned my head over to rest on Matty’s shoulder. A smile crept up to my face as I could feel him lean his head to rest on the top of mine.

“You’re truly something, Y/N.” He quietly muttered through an exhale of smoke.

“You’re just saying that because I’m trying to keep you warm.” I chuckled and flicked the ash off the end of my cigarette.

I could feel him smile, “Maybe. Regardless, all I know is that I would love to get to know you some more.”

“I don’t know if we have the time for me to tell you my life story.”

His head moved away from mine, taking another drag of the cigarette, “I can make time.”

I smiled to myself and watched the smoke pour out of his mouth. I took a moment to study his face. Most of his loose brown curls were tucked behind his ears, but some of them escaped and draped over his forehead as he looked down at me. His eyes squinted as he smiled, forming small wrinkles around the corners of his face. Grey strands were sparsely scattered through his hair and stubble. In most of my memories of him in photos or on stage, he looked rugged or disheveled. In this moment he looked soft. Almost fragile as if he was made of tissue paper stitched loosely together.

He stood up from the bench and held out his hand toward me. I grabbed it in mine immediately noticing how warm he was against my ice-cold hand. We were both greeted with warmth walking back into the venue.

He hummed softly as we walked back to the green room. I tried giving him back his jacket once we were inside, but he insisted I keep it until it was time for the show. I couldn’t complain. The jacket smelled like him.

“Show in one hour.” George reminded Matty as we walked back to the couch.

“That reminds me, Y/N,” Jamie handed me a lanyard and badge, “This will get you where you need to be.”

“Thank you so much!” I smiled at Jamie before placing it on my neck.

“I’ll take you out to the floor soon in case you want to get a drink or something,” Jamie explained as some of the boys grabbed instruments around the room.

Matty grabbed his acoustic guitar next to the couch and started to pluck away.

“I guess I better give you your jacket back.” I slid it off of my shoulders and placed it on the seat next to me.

“I’ll see you out there.” Matty winked at me as I stood by the door.

“Good luck guys. It was a pleasure meeting you all.” I waved to the boys while Jamie collected his things to head out.

All 3 of the boys gave large smiles and waved before going back to concentrating on getting ready. Matty’s eyes stayed on me until I was led out into the hall.

“I was thinking we could quickly get drinks before I drop you off at side-stage?”

I tried to keep up with Jamie’s quick pace through the halls, “That would be amazing. Thank you.”

He led the way through the winding halls as we passed by crew members setting up the stage. I could hear the crowd singing along to the playlist picked to keep them company before the show.

We finally emerged from the back area and into the lobby. It was crowded. Most of the people were already in the crowd, but there were still a large number of people here in the bar and merch area.

“If you want to get some merch, we have everything also in the back. I can show you after the show if you’d like.”

I enthusiastically nodded as we approached the lobby bar.

“A whiskey and uh-” Jamie looked at me and gestured for me to tell the bartender my order.

“Vodka Red Bull, please.”

Jamie raised his eyebrows and smiled. He pulled out his card to pay.

“Hey, I got it!” I quickly placed my card on the bar, “Consider it a thank you for the food and this whole experience. It’s only a small fraction of the thank you’s I owe you all.”

He tilted his head and smirked as he gave up on paying.

“Cheers to a good show!” I handed Jamie his drink before raising my cup to his.

“Cheers.” He took a sip and moved back towards the hallway, “Let's head to the side area.”

Sipping on my drink, I followed him back to the doors we came out of. I got some confused looks from the merch line when they spotted my badge, but I ignored them and continued.

Soon we were standing out on the venue floor. The general admission area was to the side of us and separated by a barricade. We were in front of the stage, sort of diagonal to the left. Surrounding us were crew members, a bunch of storage boxes, a camera crew, and sound equipment. Steps away from us were the stairs up to the stage where people were rushing on and off.

A large black curtain hung at the front of the stage with the lights displaying THE 1975, but from where I was standing with Jamie, I could see the set. It looked sort of like a living room. There were TV sets scattered around some furniture and a large spiral staircase.

“You okay to watch the show here?” Jamie leaned over to me so I could hear him over the crowd.

“More than okay!”

He looked at the commotion around us, “I think I’m going to bounce around to help set up. I can meet you back here once the show is over to take you back for some merch.”

I nodded and outstretched my arms for a hug, “Thank you so much again Jamie. I really appreciate it.”

He gave me a quick but tight hug before running off with his drink.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket. Taking a sip of my drink with one hand, I pulled my phone out with the other.

Matty

Where are you in the crowd? I’m about to go out on stage and want to look for you x

I smiled and decided to take a quick selfie with my view of the stage in the background. I got a couple of looks from the people in the crowd behind the barricade next to me. I didn’t mind, but I’ll admit that it was a little distracting.

As soon as I sent him the photo, the 3 dots showed he was typing.

Thanks, darling. You look beautiful by the way x

I refuse to believe this day is real and I’m not in some cruel dream. Last week, I was just excited about the show. Now, I just had dinner with the band and am being called beautiful via text from Matty Healy.

From the side of the stage, I could see a figure sit down at the piano. The lights were still down, but I assumed it was Matty by the height. A small flame flickered near his face lighting the end of a cigarette before the curtain in front of the stage started to fall. The crowd erupted with screams and cheers.

Matty was outlined in a spotlight as he started to play The 1975 on the piano. His voice was smooth and beautiful. I always loved when they opened up with the self-titled track, but this one from Being Funny in a Foreign Language was definitely a favourite of mine. As he sang the opening verse, the other members of the band walked through the door to their places on the stage. The set looked perfect.

“And it’s about time,” He looked directly at me and winked, “And this is what it looks like”

#fluff #matty healy #matty healy fic #the 1975 #matty healy x reader #petrichor #matty fic #matty healy fanfic #the 1975 fic #my fics #ry.exe

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