#'your friends got the best of me but you are still in my arms an-' 'HEAT EGG!! ALSO YOU'RE ON FIRE!'

[ridingthatd]

❝ YOUR DAD'S FRIEND ❞

farmer! toji x succubus! reader ft. gojo

➨ succubus : female sexual demon that feeds on a male sexual desire in their sleep.

your parents were divorced. so it was normal for you to spend the whole summer with your dad, back in the village he lives in. but what wasn't normal is getting fucked by the farmer next door who happens to be your father's friend, fushiguro.

warning : heavy smut, kinky, breeding, a lot of cum, squirting, daddy kink, dilf kink, anal sex, degrading, public sex, piss kink, a lot of fluid kink, spit kink, wet tongue kissing, toji is obsessed, pussy talk, dirty talk, fat cock, etc...

you were a succubus. a sex demon.

well maybe half demon? since your mother who's a succubus fell in love with your dad who's a human. he never knew what your mom was she kept it a secret. but her little secret was getting to dangerous once she found out that she was pregnant with you, that's when she decided to divorce your dad. breaking her heart and his heart but what was done had to be done.

your mom had full custody over you, but you still visited your dad from time to time. once you hit eighteen it was time for your mom to teach you about her little secret, after all you were just like her a demon.

a demon who feeds of people sexual desire to survive.

at first it was weird, instead of sleeping at night like any normal human do ; you were wide awake creeping in their dreams. it was weird how lifeless you felt if you didn't absorb energy through sexual dreams. it was weird how high you felt as your pussy suck the life out of a man's cock.

you're 20 now you got used to the way you are. you have a couple of friends who were just like you so you didn't really feel alone, gossiping about how kinky the quiet classmate that you fucked in his dreams was or about how your annoying teacher liked to be pegged in his dreams. college life was fun.

"sooooo you're going to your father's boring ass village this summer?". your friend gojo questions you as he wrap his arm around your shoulder.

you nudge his arm off you in disgust.

"don't put your arm on me! I don't want to touch you after knowing you fucked our old ass lunch lady in her dreams last night!". you shiver in pure disgust while glaring at him. 8shoko laughs next you as she stares at satorus heart broken face.

"hey! it's not my fault she wanted me so bad". he pouts at you before pulling you toward him by the waist and holding you tight.

you sigh before giving into his tight hold.

"do you really have to go to the bum village this summer?". shoko mutters out as she places the cigarette on her wet lips.

"yea I really don't have a choice but I promise I'll be texting you guys". gojo grunts disappointed at the fact you won't be partying with them this summer.

you hear mei mei heels clicking behind you as she makes her way toward the table. "what if I just distracted your dad by fuckin-".

"NO!". you immediately scream out in horror on the average of tears at the idea causing the whole group to laugh out.

"just promise you'll be keeping us updated". gojo firmly says, his hands gripping your waist harder, pulling you closer to him.

you knew satoru cared about you a lot and he would do anything to make sure you're safe and protected.

you node before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, not noticing the way gojo flushes and his head drops hiding his face behind his white hair.

"i promise".

you take a deep breath in admiring your fathers small house. you were finally here in the village, you miss your friends already but you didn't hate it here. the air was fresher then the city toxic air and the sky was a lot clearer. you were found of the cold breeze that was hitting your body.

"do you like it?". your father nervously ask making your eyes soften, he always wants what's the best for you. you quickly node smiling at him.

"mhm- I love it!".

he let's out a relieved sigh before proudly shoving his hands into his pants pocket causing you to giggle.

"I'm glad you like it, I worked pretty hard on it with a help of a really good friend". he puffs his chest out, causing you to snort.

"oh here he is!". your dad speaks out, you shift your eyes to the truck car that was parking in the house next door. your breath hitch as the man behind the car makes his way out.

the man was tall and broad, his dark hair on display as he looked down pulling at his black tie, his other hand undoing the button of his blazer. his large veiny hands then moved to loosen the top buttons of the white dress shirt underneath, exposing the firm looking skin of his chest. it seemed like he wasn't comfortable or used to dressing like that.

it was only when he closed the door of his truck he looked up that your eyes widened.

Wow.

never had you seen a man so devilishly handsome. he was strong, you could tell that much, and not just in the physical sense. sure his broad frame and muscular physique was eye catching but his presence was utterly dominating and intimidating.

it was enough to have your pussy fluttering.

he had beautiful skin, and high defined cheekbones that complimented his strong jaw.

his striking dark blue eyes were cold and calculating, one of a powerful man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. and right now they were staring blankly at you, you could swear you saw a hint of lust behind them before they turned blank.

"i told you office work isn't meant for you fushiguro! you're meant to be a farmer". you hear your father jokingly talking to the man ahead of you.

fushiguro? so that's why he looked so uncomfortable in his cloth.

toji mutters out something to your dad that you couldn't really hear. your dad immediately turn his head toward you.

"oh! this is my daughter that I told you about". your father introduce him to you.

"this is toji fushiguro". toji simply looks at you his jaw clenching so hard likes he's trying to suppress something before he gaze at your dad listening to whatever crap he was telling him.

you sit awkwardly at the dinner table chewing on your food as you sneak a glance at fushiguro who sits across the table his huge forearm muscles flexing each time he takes a bite of his food.

little did you know that toji was fighting to control himself.

TOJI POV ;

fucking hell, toji groans in his thoughts as his fat cock twitch in his pants under the dinner table. how fucking disgusting of him getting hard at the dinner table because of his friends daughter, he doesn't know what you're doing to him. he hasn't been sexually active for years now and he has never experienced what he's feeling right now.

he feels like a pervert whenever the veins on his cock twitch as he take a glance at you. something about you feels so breedable to the point where his cock is itching to pound you, breed your dirty little pussy at the dinner table even while your dad is here.

he excuses himself to the bathroom, growling lowly as soon as he closes the door. he got to be losing his fucking mind toji thought to himself as he cup his raging fat cock through his pants.

he hisses at how sensitive it is as he pulls it out- the thickness of his tip was so red pumping with blood as precum leaks out of it.

he can't believe he's doing this right now, jerking off like a horny teenage boy in the bathroom but he can't go back while his cock is like this.

he takes a deep breath before looking around the bathroom for some sort of toilet paper so he can catch his cum when he finishes.

then his eyes land on something inside the washing machine. his cock press on his abdomen as he stares at the red thong in there.

no no he can't- you'll find out- his friend is going to find out for fuck sake.

but here he was his shirt lifted up holding it by his mouth as he huffs and drools on it while stroking his leaking cock with your thong.

fuck toji can't believe he's doing this but it was to good to resist, so good that it has his thighs shaking as he fuck into your thong. he can see his precum leaking through his tip and soaking the fabric.

oh how he wish he could force you to wear this thong once he fills it with his cum, keeping your little pussy warm. and this throws him off edge as robes of cum start shooting out of his fat cock into your thong.

painting it white just like he wished.

a knock was heard on the door causing toji relaxed body to tense.

"hey is everything alright man? we're going to sleep". toji sighs zipping his pants up and rinsing your thong under water making sure there's no drop of his cum left before placing it back where he found it.

"yea give me a minute". he huskly speaks out.

END OF POV.

you let out a deep sigh as you slam your body into the bed, something about your dads friend toji sleeping here tonight makes you excited for some reason.

you snort at your own thoughts before diving into someone's dream to feed off tonight.

you look around confused as you see yourself in the middle of a field. you can really make out where you were because of the tall grass.

you let out a loud gasp as you two rough hands gripping you by the waist and a warm breath fanning against your sensitive neck.

"caught you". a husky voice speaks out against your neck causing your legs to get weak as your heart beat faster once you feel his fat cock throbbing behind your ass cheeks.

he run his nose up your neck before reaching your ear and sucking on it in the most dirty way soaking it with his spit, his warm tongue peak out and trail your ear before reaching down your neck again but this time he bites on it.

you moan out in pain and pleasure, arching your ass into his cock as a reflex.

"hmmm you dirty fucking slut- rubbing yourself on my cock like that? what is your dad going to think hm?". he growls out, grabbing you by your hair and turning your face around.

your eyes widen once you realize who it is but it was already to late because his tongue was deep down your throat, swirling around every inch of your mouth as his large hands make their way inside your panties before shoving them down your legs.

he doesn't let you catch your breath once he pulls away from the kiss, bending you over on your knees before pushing your sundress over exposing your wet pussy.

"wait- ahhh!". he doesn't let you finish as he shove his finger deep inside your pussy grunting against your ass at how tight you are. toji couldn't help himself as he pull his already leaking cock out of his pants.

stroking his fat cock as his tongue peaks out leaking your clit before sucking it into his mouth. you can't believe this is happening.

you were in the middle of a field. on your knees, hands digging into the dirt as you feel tojis wet tongue swirling around your ass hole before sliding down to your bare pussy. his large rough hands gripping your plumpy ass, holding you in place as he devours your filthy pussy in the openness of this field.

"your dirty little pussy better water this fucking field with your squirt". tojis growls out as he graze his fangs on your clit while fisting his fat cock furiously behind you. you can hear the fapping sloppy filthy sound that tojis cock was making while he strokes, it was making your pussy even wetter to the point you weren't ashamed to mutter out your next words.

"and your cock better sow my fucking pussy with your seeds". and that's when toji lose it, he shoves his face completely into your ass.

you scream as you feel his nose entering your pussy, your eyes roll back you've never felt this before the combination of him sucking your clit while his nose fuck into your pussy was so deliciously dirty.

"yea give it to me". toji moans out his hand working harder on his cock as he feels you riding his nose, pushing back and forward against it. your juice was going everywhere from the force, his whole face was glazed.

"fuck-! too much I feel like I'm going to piss-! no more- ahhhhh". you start sobbing, you lost control over your body the pleasure was to much.

"yes-! yes-! you good fucking girl piss in daddy's mouth- piss in my mouth!". toji whines out his cock was starting to rut against your thighs.

your eyes roll back at his dirty words, not being able to hold it back anymore. you came with a force your clear piss landing in his mouth causing toji to groan in bliss at the feeling of your warm liquid. it was spilling and dripping down your thighs to his sensitive cock.

"i-! mmmmmmm, it's soooo good I can't-! I can't-!". your thighs shake as your hot juice spurt out of your pussy landing everywhere. toji couldn't hold his groaning anymore as he drinks in your squirt, it was so much so much. your hot liquid was dripping down his face while his cum was already spilled on his hand.

you were shaking, your body giving out but toji wasn't done with you. he stands up and hold your face with his cum filled hand smearing it on your red lips.

"does my little baby want daddy to take care of her?". he coo at you shoving a thumb in your mouth and you immediately suck on it, whinning as you taste his salty cum.

"shhhh let daddy do the work". he shushs you picking up your body and holding you into his arms. you place your head into his chest whimpering as you feel his fat cock ripping through your pussy.

"I know I know daddy's cock is to big? hm?". you sob feeling your pussy stretching fully trying to adjust to how thick his cock was.

"i- ahhhhh! mmmmmmmm!" you couldn't form out your words, you could feel every inch of his cock, his throbbing veins, his fat tip finally hitting your cervix. your body shakes against his, his cock was so thick so good.

"here baby? right here?". he grunts rutting his hips up, bouncing you on his dick. you were a mess drooling fucked out of your mind. toji growls before ripping your top off and diving into your bouncing boobs taking one of your fat nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while his fat tip dive into the gummy walls of your pussy.

"gonna cum-! please". you sob out.

toji halt his movement pulling his hard dick out ripping a whine out of you before placing your body on the ground.

he hold both of your legs giving your ankles a wet kiss before placing them on his board shoulder as he sloppily tap his fat cock on your clit.

"tell me what do you want from daddy hm?". he breaths out trailing kissing on your feets.

"I want you inside- please! please-". you whine wiggling your bottom at him. toji hums before place his rough hand on your belly pressing his hand there as he questions.

"you want daddy here? hm? you want his cock to fill your belly?". you moan out at his dirty words eagerly noding your head.

toji doesn't hesitate as he shoves his cock fully inside in one go, reaching your insides before pulling out and doing the same again. your body was being shoved away by the force of his thrusts but toji growls holding you back into his cock by your feets.

you were so close so close to squirting all over his cock. you were going to-

"having fun without me?". you hear your friends voice gojo.

you gasp as you find yourself in your room again sweat coating your body.

what the fuck just happened.

taglist : @mikyapixie @renaimel @hikaako @ourfinalisation @justbelljust @sarcasticbitchsblog @sesshomarunrin @phoenixflames498 @cloudserenity @c0ckdrunkk

[no-144444]

don’t embarrass me- l.norris

summary: lando and you have a fight on NYE

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

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You were angry. Every five seconds you had a friend asking if you and Lando had broken up, all because Maugi (one of Lando’s friends) was trying to make it look like she was with Lando. It was infuriating.

“You alright baby?” Lando whispered as he leant against you, the party already in full swing. You looked fabulous. Silver and gold for the new year. You looked like a million bucks. Yet you felt like a fraud. Every time you saw them together you felt yourself… shrink. Like you had to make room for their friendship. Whenever you’d try to talk to him about it, you were met with more questions than answers, and a lot of aggression.

You didn’t care anymore.

“I’m good,” you smiled. “You?”

“I’m great,” he smirked, pulling your waist into his. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, dotting kisses against your cheek.

You grinned. “Thanks baby.”

His grip tightened but over his shoulder you saw him. Oscar. Lando’s teammate. Lando’s friend. You had a plan, and you were going to make Lando pay for brushing you off.

“Wanna get out of here-?” Lando had started to speak, but he was cut off when you walked away, and straight into Oscar’s arms. He assumed after a little while, you’d come back. You didn’t. You and Oscar spent all of New Year’s Together, while Lando was stuck with Max and Pietra looking every part the perfect couple.

“Why are you sulking?” Max laughed, clapping Lando on the back.

“She’s gone off with Oscar,” he mumbled, looking up as he leant against the balcony railing.

“He is her best mate,” he pointed out. “Join the conversation, or at least hang off her like you usually do.”

He huffed. “She’s mad at me.”

“What did you do this time?” P asked.

“The whole Maugi thing kind of got to her, and when she’d ask me… I kind of brushed her off. She's been off for weeks.”

“So you fucked up?” Max sighed.

“I fucked up,” he nodded. “And now she’s ignoring me, and it’s 3 minutes to midnight.”

“She’ll let you be her New Year’s kiss, surely,” Max scoffed.

Lando nodded, deciding to go find you, but the uncertainty in his stomach had settled long ago.

He caught you from across the room, the absolute picture of beauty. Dancing haphazardly with Lily as Oscar held both your drinks, you danced, somehow looking somehow carefree and elegant at the same time. He smiled. The anxiety in his chest settled momentarily. You were still you. You were still his. You were just upset.

“It’s almost midnight,” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, joining you in dancing as Lily excused herself to the bar. The red flashing lights and alcohol in both your systems made your dancing look a lot dirtier than it had intended to be, but alas, he just enjoyed feeling you close.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, turning around to him. “Finding Maugi anytime soon?”

He rolled his eyes. “You think I’d want her over you?”

“You don’t make it look any different,” you scoffed.

“Baby,” he smirked, practically laughing. “You’re the most perfect, incredible, kind, woman I have ever met. I love you. You’re my everything. I’ll admit when you came to me about it, I could’ve responded better, and I’m sorry. I was stressed about the way the media saw it, and I didn’t know how to respond to you. I’m sorry.”

You smirked. “That’s all I needed.”

He giggled, pulling you into him. How had he ever pulled you? He was such a loser when it came to you. He’d do anything.

“Do I get my midnight kiss?” He smiled, his cheeks blushing.

“You’re such a baby,” you chuckled as the timer counted down. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Don’t ever embarrass me like you have, ever again.”

You pressed your lips to his and bit down on his bottom lip. You made him scared. Is it bad that made him hard?

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[onceinablueberrymoon]

intentionally by chance | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

scenario: a month after seeing the salesman on his way to the airport, gi-hun returns to that subway station every day, hoping to find the salesman and confront him. this is where you come in. setting: takes place after the events of season 1, but before gi-hun hires the loan shark group to search for the salesman warnings: deception; pregnant!reader; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 1.3k notes: salesman fluff! ♡ this guy’s been plaguing my thoughts for weeks now, so i had to write about him. my first fic in years! i like to think that S1 salesman is more chill than in S2. please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Excuse me… Can you please help me?”

The red-haired man, who was perusing the endless options of cup ramyeon, turned in your direction, but remained planted a few feet away from you. 

“Me?” He pointed at himself.

You nodded, adjusting the items you were holding in your arms. “Can you grab me that cup of ramyeon from the shelf? I’d get it, but my hands are full…” 

The man walked over and retrieved your cup of ramyeon. As he handed it to you, he noticed your pronounced bump under your sweater and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Miss, you’re in no condition to be carrying so much. Please, let me help you bring it to the checkout.”

With your approval, he unloaded the rest of your snacks into his arms. The two of you walked to the register, where you insisted on paying for his own cup of ramyeon. You suggested eating the ramyeon at one of the tables outside the subway station’s convenience store, but he insisted on sitting on a bench on the subway platform. 

“Is there a particular reason you wanted to eat here? It’s not the most ideal dining spot…” You slurped your noodles happily. The man ate slowly, popping his head up every so often and eyeing his surroundings carefully. 

“I’m… looking for something. Nothing you should worry yourself with,” he continued to eat his food while you gave him a skeptical look.

“Perhaps I could help? Well, as long as I don’t have to move very much,” you chuckled, patting your stomach. He gave you a soft smile before changing the topic. 

“Shouldn’t your husband be buying you food instead of you coming to get it yourself?” He gestured to your bag of snacks, and you giggled.

“My husband buys me all the food I want, but sometimes I just want to get out of the house! It’s no fun being cooped up all day,” you sighed. The man nodded in understanding. 

“It’s also nice to talk to other people, like you,” you smiled at him. He returned your smile, but then his eyebrows shot up when a sharp smack echoed throughout the platform. 

The man jumped up, his cup ramyeon forgotten on the bench. You turned to see where the noise had come from, only to find a group of students huddled around another student who had dropped their textbooks on the ground. From what you could hear, it seemed like they were holding them for a friend but couldn’t handle the weight.

The red-haired man froze for a few seconds, then sat back down, heaving a big sigh. 

“Are you alright, sir? There’s nothing to worry about – it was just some books that fell.” You tried to comfort the man in some way, but he brushed the incident off. 

“I’m fine. It just… reminded me of something,” he tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t convince you. “Don’t worry about me. Please eat,” he gestured to your unfinished ramyeon, “you need strength for your baby.”

The rest of your time together was pleasant, but you were still not convinced that the man’s reaction was nothing. You both finished your noodles, disposing the packaging and your utensils before parting ways. 

Once you returned home, you put the remaining snacks away and settled on the sofa. There were still a few hours before your husband was due home. You got yourself comfortable, curled up under a blanket, and drifted off to sleep.

“Rough day?”

You cracked open your eyes. All you could see was a blurry grey shape, but you already knew who it was. 

Blinking your eyes a few times, your husband’s handsome face came into focus, with his usually crisp grey suit looking a bit creased. His usual smirk graced his face as he looked down at you on the sofa.

“I should be asking you that. What happened to your suit?” You sat up and he sat down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“One prospective player became violent when he lost at ddakji for the 20th time in a row. Of course, I was able to subdue him, but it took more effort than usual,” your husband tried to press down a crease on his sleeve, but to no avail. He rested a hand on your rounded belly, gently rubbing circles with his fingers.

“How was today? I trust you succeeded in your mission?” 

You scoffed, “He was exactly where you said he’d be. I was able to have a conversation with him. We even ate ramyeon together for lunch!” 

Your husband turned to face you, an eyebrow raised. “You ate ramyeon together?” He gave a small pout, “I thought I was the only one you ate ramyeon with.”

Immediately, your face flustered as you explained yourself, “Hey, you know that I would never cheat!” Then, you scoffed, “We ate cup ramyeon, alright? Not whatever fantasy you’re imagining in that head of yours.” He laughed, pecking you on the cheek.

“Oh, but I have some exciting news,” you said with a sparkle in your eyes. “He’s still looking for you. And he’s basically gone mad trying to find you.” This caught your husband’s attention.

“While we were eating, there was a loud noise. Turned out that a kid dropped their books. But Gi-hun didn’t know that. He shot up so fast I swear I thought he was possessed!” 

Your husband seemed to take in your findings carefully, continuing his circles on your bump as if they helped him focus. 

“He wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for, but he specifically wanted us to sit on the subway platform, so I think it’s safe to say he’s searching for you.” Your husband had previously informed you that he had spotted a player he had already recruited at the Incheon Airport subway station, albeit with flaming red hair. After talking with the Frontman, he confirmed that Seong Gi-hun was indeed the winner of the 33rd edition of the Games. 

Once you shared the rest of your intel with your husband, you let out a big sigh. 

“Should I meet with Gi-hun again? It’d be useful to know his location and I could maybe gather more info,” you looked at your husband who had since sat up, but he didn’t take his hand off your bump. 

He pondered your question for a moment. “While I would benefit from knowing his whereabouts, I’m more afraid of something happening to you,” his voice sounded strained. “I wouldn’t be there to protect you and our child.” 

You leaned onto his shoulder, resting a hand on top of his on your belly. “We’ll be fine. If anything, Gi-hun was also concerned for me because of the baby,” you winked. “Maybe they’re the key to earning his trust.” 

Your husband’s lips tightened into a straight line. While he wasn’t happy that you would spend time with someone who clearly despised him, you were right — your pregnancy would lower Gi-hun’s defenses. You knew how much your husband’s schedule was impacted by Gi-hun’s constant presence on the AREX subway line. It would greatly help your husband if you could keep Gi-hun at one station while he recruited prospective players for the Games. 

Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stood up, attempting once again to smooth out the crease on his sleeve. “We’ll see. I’ll talk to the Frontman to see if we can get you any additional protection. I still don’t like the idea of you being around Gi-hun alone. If he learns of our relationship, I imagine he will use you as ransom,” he clicks his tongue, “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

You shook your head and stood up next to your husband. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“For now, continue researching prospective players. I’m almost done with your last batch,” he flashed his signature smirk, which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

“On it. Rumour has it that Tapgol Park has an abundance of people down on their luck…”

[rafesangelita]

♡ just dilf!rafe making sure everything is to his liking when his precious little bunny comes home from all of her beauty appointments!

warnings: fluff, bunny being a lil clingy, suggestive language, use of the nickname ‘daddy’ (pls scroll if it’s not for you), heavy petting, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), praise, finger sucking, slight overstimulation

a/n: i recently got all of my beauty appointments done so this felt fitting lol. read more of dilf!rafe x bunny!reader here <3

wc: 1.4k

while rafe never let you step out of the house by yourself, there was very few instances when he did. going out with your girlfriends and paying for all of your appointments was one of those things, and he didn’t mind in the slightest. the day would start very early in the morning so that you’d have enough time to get everything done. rafe would watch you from the front door as you basically hopped down the driveway in excitement before getting into your best friend’s obnoxiously pink car, your lip gloss still sparkling on his lips from when you kissed him before leaving.

maybe it was the father instinct inside of him, but rafe made it a point to always pay for you and your besties meals, the idea of you going hungry or having an empty stomach just not sitting right with him. you and your friends would start the day by knocking out whatever took the longest, so that all of you could breeze through the extra upkeep and still go shopping afterwards. despite rafe tracking your location and checking where you were at religiously, he still wanted you to text him and send him photos and updates throughout the day.

he’d smile down at his phone whenever your contact name, which you came up with by yourself, would pop up on his screen.

[1:15 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: i miss you sooo much already daddy. thank you for the food it was yummy <3 me and the girls still have a handful of things to do but i’m hoping to be done soon!!

[2:57 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: i think you’re going to reallyyy like the color of my nails!! my toes came out super cute too 🎀

[4:03 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: (1 attached image) look at this pink flatiron at the salon! i need one just like this! pretty pleaseeee!

he’d reply to each message, even going ahead and buying that flatiron with overnight delivery so you could have it in your pretty hands in no time. you two would go on like this until you’d finally send him that ‘on my way!’ text, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. as much as he liked for you to have your girl time, he selfishly wanted to have you all to himself more than anything. rafe had already been anticipating your arrival, your favorite candles already lit up upstairs in his bedroom. it wasn’t long before he heard the faint bump of music outside, your playful yelp sounding from down the driveway as you struggled to carry all of your shopping bags.

rafe was quick to help you out, your best friends teasingly telling him hi as he briefly waved at them before guiding you inside. “oh, i missed you!” you didn’t waste any time in throwing your arms around his neck, the scent of sweet vanilla filling up his senses. you clung to him like a koala, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he made his way upstairs. “yeah? i missed you more.” you breathed him in, smiling softly against his chest as he put your bags down on the chair he had in the corner. “everything go good?” he took a seat at the edge of the bed, resting his hands on the soft globes of your ass.

“mhmm!” you nodded, “i’m happy with how everything came out.” rafe pecked your lips before helping you up on your feet. “let me get a good look at you.” standing up, you couldn’t help but feel shy as he scanned over your figure agonizingly slow. “your hair looks real nice, baby, that style suits you.” your cheeks heated at the simple compliment. “wow look at your lashes, ‘you try out a different lash map?” you gasped softly, hitting his shoulder playfully. “look at you using girly terms!” rafe was bound to learn about the stuff you’d be rambling on and on about, your lashes being one of many things he now knew the intricacies of.

“your eyebrow lady did a real good job, too.” you wiggled your brows suggestively, fluttering your lashes at him while he took your hand in his. “you were right, i absolutely love this color on you,” he took in the pinky nude of your manicure, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, “let me see those toes.” you giggled, bringing your foot to his lap as you held onto his arms for leverage. “wow, you got a bow charm?” you smiled down at the sight, “yes! isn’t it so cute? she even put on some rhinestones for free because i’m a regular!” rafe massaged the back of your calf, guiding you back down on the bed.

“damn, bunny, and your skin is so soft, you got that full body wax?” you welcomed him between your thighs, running your freshly manicured nail down the side of his jaw. “yes, i know how much you like it..” he kissed you deeply, his lower half grinding down on where you needed him most. you couldn’t help the whine from leaving your lips, your glazed orbs shining with something mischievous. “do you want to see how that came out, too?” rafe smiled, his fingers already hooking between your skirt and the waistband of your panties. “yeah? you gonna let daddy inspect you?”

once your clothes were off and forgotten about on the floor, rafe took your thighs and spread them open to expose your bare cunt, the look on his face making you take your bottom lip between your teeth. “fuck,” he marveled, “you’re just so pretty, you know that?” you smiled, melting under his gentle touch. he looked up at you as if to ask ‘can i?’ before you nodded. rafe sat back on his heels, stroking your glistening folds as you writhed with desire. “i need to be inside of you so bad..” oh, how bad you needed that too. “rafe, we can’t have sex for at least a full twenty-four hours.” you pouted.

“but we did it last time.” you giggled, shaking your head. “i know, but i’m so sensitive..” rafe sighed, leaning down so he could whisper against your lips. “would a little touching hurt, though?” you gasped when he slipped a digit inside your entrance, his long digit filling you just right. with the pad of his thumb, he began rubbing hard circles on your clit, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “you’re so perfect, always dressing and getting dolled up the way i want you to.” he curled his finger, nudging that soft spot inside of you that made you see stars.

your back arched softly off of the bed, your fingers intertwining with his own. he kept his eyes on your trembling form, your mouth falling open as moans and whimpers fell from your lips. “i’m so close, ray..” the man above you lowered his head between your thighs, popping his digits into your mouth so you could taste yourself on his fingers. “so soft and smooth, i could eat this cunt for days.” you cried out loud when you felt his tongue prod at your opening, the tip of his nose finding your sensitive bud. “fuckkk!” you covered your mouth at the slip up, yelping when you felt rafe pinch your inner thigh.

“what have i told you about cussing?” he groaned, pulling away from your soaked pussy before diving back in again, your hands shooting up to cup your tits. rafe watched your face carefully, the rise and fall of your chest being a telltale sign that you were going to finish soon. you felt the familar heat begin to simmer in your tummy, your thighs threatening to snap shut as the coil in your stomach got tighter and tighter with every stroke of rafe’s tongue. “oh, my god!” your eyes rolled back when the band in your tummy finally snapped, your orgasm hitting you in waves of pure bliss.

your breath shook as you thrashed against rafe’s mouth, your thighs locking around his head as he pinned you down by your hips. your mouth opened but no sound, except for a pathetic shriek came out, your hands fighting rafe off in an attempt to pull away from him. that only made him grip you tighter, his tongue working relentlessly on your poor cunt. it wasn’t until you tapped out, your nails digging into rafe’s arm before he gave you a final kiss, his gentle hands massaging into the skin of your calves. you whimpered as rafe helped you come down from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your vision hazy.

rafe licked his lips clean, palming at the hard-on in his boxers. “how about just the tip?” all it took was one blissful glance at him through your lashes before he was yanking you towards the edge of his bed by your ankles.

[charmedimsure]

could you do a jun ho fic where the f!reader is a new officer and he's training her. she is fully convinced that he hates her (maybe she isn't the best at her job) but at the end of the week he asks her out and she's so shocked. turns out he was dropping hints the whole time and she's an idiot

A Tough Case to Crack

pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x f!reader

summary: No matter what you do, you just cannot get on Jun-ho's good side. Normally you'd brush it off, if he wasn't the man who decides whether you get promoted to detective or not.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: police work, murder case, guns

A/N: i love this request sm omg. everything i know about detective work is from brooklyn 99 so i doubt it's very accurate. if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

When you found out that the detective training you was none other than Hwang Jun-ho, you were ecstatic. You've worked with him a few times before, doing general beat cop tasks for his cases and seeing him around the precinct.

Not only is he an extremely respected detective, he's also really cute. You hate to be the girl at work who's fawning over one of the boys, but come on. You have eyes.

Now though, as you're sitting in the squad car together staking out a suspect for one of his cases, you're starting to wish you had gotten assigned to anyone else.

You've spent nearly two hours together and you can count the number of words he's said to you on one hand. He's barely even looked at you. It's not like you were friends before, but you've worked together since you got transferred to the precinct a few months ago. And now this man will be the deciding factor in whether you get the detective promotion or go back to being a beat cop.

About a week later, Jun-ho approaches you. "We've been assigned a case. Small, straightforward, perfect for training. Get ready, we're gonna head over to the scene. I'll give you a run down on the way over."

You nod, a smile on your face. It may be small, but it's your first case as a detective and you're excited to prove yourself. This may be your first case, but it will not be your last.

"Cool. Let me grab my stuff, I'll meet you at the car in a few minutes."

Jun-ho gives you a curt nod and turns, walking back to his desk to get his things.

You let out a sigh. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to describe a case as 'cool'.

<>

You grimace at the gruesome sight in front of you. A man's body lays on the ground, blood splattered all around the room. A gun lies in his hand.

"First impression," Jun-ho says, taking out his notepad, "suicide."

You take a step closer, wanting to get a better look at the scene. As you try to take another step, a hand grabs your arm, yanking you back.

"Watch where you're stepping!" Jun-ho's voice booms at you. You look down to notice that you had, in fact, been very close to stepping directly in the victim's blood, which would have messed up the evidence badly.

You look down at your boots, embarrassed that you almost made such a rookie mistake. "Sorry, I'll be more careful." You step closer to the body, but his hand is still keeping you in your place. You huff. "I'm not going to step in the blood, you can let go."

He looks down at his hand and quickly releases your arm, allowing you to approach the scene, this time being extra cautious to make sure you don't disturb anything. You crouch down by the man's head, examining the wound.

Jun-ho gives you a questioning look. "What's wrong?"

You shake your head. "Something just feels off to me."

He continues jotting down notes. "Take a look around the place. I'm gonna talk to the wife. Please be careful not to touch anything. Wear gloves if you have to."

You sigh as he walks away. You had wanted to do this together, to learn how an investigation is done as a detective. He probably thinks you're incompetent now. Looks like you're gonna be working separately.

You take a quick scan over the interior of the room, trying to find little clues that may give you a hint as to what happened here. The house looks normal enough (save for the dead man on the floor, of course). Looking towards the windows, you notice that they are all locked, except for one. It could be nothing, but you write it down in your own notebook anyway, not wanting to overlook anything. You'll be damned if you make another mistake.

Jun-ho walks away from the victim's wife, who is crying outside the home.

"Hey, I might have found something," you jog up to him. "All of the windows are locked except one. Seems a little off to me."

Jun-ho sighs. "I don't think that's something to focus on until we get more evidence." He puts his notepad back in his pocket. "Come on, we gotta go back to the precinct."

You feel yourself deflate at his comment, slowly following him to the car.

<>

You march into your chief's office, hands on your hips. "Chief, I'd like to put in a request for a different trainer."

The man looks up at you from the plate of food on his desk. "Why?"

"Because I know that Detective Hwang is going to give me a bad review," you huff. "If I had done badly, I'd accept it, but I can't help it that he doesn't like me."

He gives you a questioning look. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't think he's said one nice thing to me," you rant. "He doesn't talk to me unless he absolutely has to, he barely even acknowledges that I'm there! The only time he talks to me is to criticize me. He doesn't even work with me on our case!" You stop, catching your breath from you long tirade. "You could have assigned anyone to train me, why did you have to choose him?"

The chief cocks an eyebrow at you. "When he found out you were applying to become a detective, Detective Hwang personally requested to train you."

You look at your chief as if he has three heads. "What?"

He picks up a piece of chicken from his plate, bringing it to his mouth. "He said he saw potential in you, wanted to work with you." He looks up at you again. "He hasn't said anything bad about you or your performance. He's actually said you're doing very well."

Your head feels crazy as you try to process this information. The detective training you, the one that hates you, doesn't actually hate you. He asked to train you and praises you to the chief.

"But why would he do that? He acts like he can't stand me."

The chief shrugs. "You're training to be a detective. Solve the case."

You deadpan at him as a smirk grows on his face. "You're so proud of yourself for that one, aren't you?"

"Absolutely I am. Now, get back to your case." He points at the door with his chopsticks. You can't help but let out a small laugh as you walk back to the bullpen.

<>

The next day, you're sitting at Jun-ho's desk, looking through the files on your victim. A crumb from the sandwich you're eating falls onto one of the photos of the crime scene and you quickly flick it away.

"What are you looking at?"

You jump a bit in your seat. Jun-ho is standing over you, looking at the files in your hands. You put your hand on your chest, steadying your breath.

"Holy shit, you scared the crap out of me."

He gives you a barely there smile. "Sorry." You watch his eyes move to the sandwich in your hand and any trace of the smile he once worse disappears.

You sigh. "I know I'm not supposed to be eating on the job, but I was so hungry that I couldn't focus." You put the remainder of the sandwich on the napkin. "And in my defense, it worked. I think I found something," you say, moving over so he can get a better look. You look up at him. "Do you want your chair?"

"No, it's fine," he says, leaning over you to inspect the files. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, making you stiffen.

"Take a look at this," you point to a description of the victim to Jun-ho. "He was left-handed." You then pick up a picture of the body, handing it to him. "Look where the gun is."

He takes the picture, his eyes widening when he realizes it. "It's in his right hand." He puts the photo down, looking down at you. "You said one of the windows was unlocked, right?"

You nod.

Jun-ho grabs his jacket off the back of the chair you're sitting in. "Go get your jacket. We gotta go back to the house."

<>

You slam the door to the squad car, rushing behind Jun-ho as he moves toward the house. "Which window was unlocked?"

"The middle one on the side."

You run to the side of the house, stopping a few feet away from the window. "This one here."

Jun-ho crouches down. The window is over a small flowerbed, the area covered in mulch that couldn't have been laid down more than a week ago.

You hear Jun-ho gasp. "Here! A footprint!"

You come closer, crouching near him. Sure enough, the print of a large shoe is visible in the mulch, leading away from the window.

"You were right," the man next to you says. "This is a murder."

<>

You stand by the coffee machine, brewing a cup for the woman waiting by Jun-ho's desk. He had reached out to the victim's widow, hoping to get some information that could lead to her husband's killer.

You see Jun-ho leaving the Chief's office and call him over. "Do you want to handle the questions?"

"No, I think we should do it together," he says. "I want your opinion, too."

You try to fight the smile growing on your face, nodding. Jun-ho leads you to his desk, pulling up a chair for you to sit in. You place the cup in front of the woman, as well as a tiny bowl with creamers and sugar.

"Thank you for coming in, ma'am," Jun-ho says.

"Is everything alright?" she asks.

"We just want to ask you a few questions," he says. "We've been going over your husband's case and we have reason to believe that this was a murder staged to look like a suicide."

The woman gasps, bringing a hand up to her mouth as her eyes water. "I knew it," he softly cries, "I knew my Jin-young wouldn't have killed himself. We don't even own a gun, and he was such a happy man."

You shift forward in your seat, grabbing the box of tissues from beside Jun-ho's computer and placing them in front of her. She nods a thank you as she takes one. "Ma'am, is there anyone who you think could have done this? Had anything happened recently?"

She takes a moment to think. "I know he was having arguments with a man he worked with, I don't know his name though."

"Do you know what they argued about?"

"One of them was going to be promoted," she explains. "The promotion would give a significant pay raise. The other man had been there for longer, but Jin-young was likely to get it. He was a very likable man, a very good worker, so nice to everyone. The other man though that he deserved it more."

You write down the details in your notebook. Jun-ho leans forward. "Thank you, ma'am. We'll be in contact."

<>

You walk into the building, looking for the suspect. You had done some research and found that the man you're looking for is Kun Yong-ja, a man with a history of assault.

"Ready?" Jun-ho asks you. You nod, and he knocks on the door of the apartment.

The door opens, revealing your suspect. "Can I help you?"

"Hello, sir. We're with the police. We were hoping we could ask you a few questions," Jun-ho says.

The man's face falters for a moment. "About what?"

You pick up a photo of the victim, turning it to show him. "We're aware that you worked with Mun Jin-young. He was found dead in his home a few days ago."

Yong-ja looks between the two of you before slamming the door shut.

"Shit," you say, taking your gun out of its holster.

Jun-ho kicks in the door, taking his gun out as well. You follow him into the apartment. You run to the back, finding a window open by the fire escape.

"I'll follow him down this way, you go around, try to cut him off," Jun-ho tells you.

You nod, rushing out the door and down the stairs. Leaving the building and turning into the alley beside it, you see the back of Yong-ja, who is currently pointing a gun at your partner. As Jun-ho tries to talk him down, you sneak up behind him. With all your strength, you hit his head with the butt of your gun, knocking him unconscious.

"Thank you," Jun-ho says. He takes the handcuffs off his belt, securing them around Yong-ja's wrists.

As the beat cops bring him to the station, you and Jun-ho check his apartment. Sure enough, you find mulch-covered boots that perfectly fit the prints left in the victim's yard, as well as a small book with information on the victim, including his home address.

<>

"Hey."

You turn, seeing Jun-ho walking up to you. You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Hi."

"The chief asked me to give this to you," he smiles as he hands you a small leather booklet.

You take it and open it, gasping when you see what's inside. The right side is blank, but the left holds a badge, the words "National Police Agency" engraved on it.

"Holy shit," you say, a big smile on your face. "I got it! I'm a detective!" You're so happy that you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him in an unexpected hug. You feel him tense and pull back. "Sorry, I'm just really happy."

"It's fine," he chuckles. "Actually, this is something that I wanted to talk to you about."

Great, here we go. He's going to tell you how you need to be more professional, that you can't make mistakes while in the field.

"Now that I'm not your superior anymore," he smiles, leaning closer to you, "I was wondering if you want to get dinner with me this weekend?"

Wait, what?

You stare at him for a good ten seconds, mind processing the words that just came out of his mouth. You open your mouth and close it a few times before you're finally able to come up with some words. "Like, as in a date?"

"Yeah, a date. If that's alright."

You continue to stare at him, absolutely baffled.

He starts to shrink, his face dropping. "Please don't feel like you have to. It's okay if you don't want to, I won't hold it against you."

"No!" you blurt out. "I mean, yes, I would love to get dinner with you." You smile at him. "Sorry, I just honestly was not expecting that at all."

"Really?" he asks, brows furrowed. "I feel like I've been kind of obvious about it. I mean, I could barely look at you at first because you made me so nervous. One day I finally got the courage to ask you to lunch, but you were already eating and that plan went out the window."

It finally clicks in your brain. Everything you had assumed he'd done because he hated you, not talking to you and giving you looks when you ate at his desk, it was because he liked you.

"But I made mistakes," you say. "I almost stepped in the victim's blood."

Jun-ho chuckles. "My first case, I put filed a knife under the wrong case, would've blown the entire thing if someone hadn't noticed. I got a good yelling at, and now I always make sure I file evidence correctly. I can guarantee you will always be careful around crime scenes, now."

He's right. After that, you had been much more careful. "Damn," you say, "I really got this wrong."

"Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have recommended you for detective," he teases.

You lightly slap his arm. "No take backs!" You gasp. "Wait, is that why you requested to train me?"

Jun-ho blushes, looking to the floor and kicking his shoes. "The Chief told you about that, did he?" He looks up. "And I'm guessing that you asked for a different trainer because you thought I didn't like you?"

"Man, the Chief really can't keep his mouth shut, huh?" you chuckle.

"Not at all," Jun-ho says. "So, I'll pick you up Saturday night?"

You nod, smiling. "It's a date."

~

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[kooggukk]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 BEYOND THE JOB // JJK

daddy jungkook (literally)

; babysitting the cutest angel on earth is the perfect job. (except when her father is fucking hot and wants all of you)

— 1/??

“seriously though, you have to fuckin’ quit that job already.”

Sasha, who happens to be your best friend ever since you started working at the local elementary school, just lectured you again. she was already teaching there when you arrived, you spent your lunch breaks with her and even be each other’s substitute sometimes.

surprisingly, she quit a few months after that. you stayed close though. at first, she was dying to know the drama happening among the teaching staff, but as shit kept going down which included you and the principal, all you ever hear from her is that you need to quit.

it wasn’t a huge surprise to her when you first told her your boss, aka the school’s principal, asked you out. it was weird, but everyone knew he was.. a little desperate. he had asked most of the female teachers out, some who agreed could only say bad things about the experience.

you declined his offer politely, explaining that you don’t want your personal life to mix with your job. it was awkward after that, but turns out he seems to be the dumbest person on earth. he asked you out two weeks after that, again.

still to this day, he keeps asking you out over and over and you keep rejecting him over and over again. sure, he got a lil’ crush on you, sweet, right? fuck no. he’s a pervert, doesn’t know what personal space is.

“but i need the money. i don’t know where else i could get such good salary.” you told her, for the nth time.

“be a stripper,” Sasha casually said, sipping on her diet coke while your eyes widened.

“don’t say nonsense, dafuq..” you both shared a giggle, but you definitely won’t put that job idea on the bottom of your list. maybe in the middle, or top 5. if you really can’t find a good place, then gotta be top 3.

“you could be one until you save enough money, then look for a less crazy one.”

“there’s never enough money, sasha.” you sighed, fuck inflation. when you grew up and finished studying, you realized the hardest part of being an adult was money. it’s crazy how difficult it is to make a living.

“if you don’t give in your quitting notice tomorrow, i’m gonna do it for you instead.” she narrowed her eyes at you.

“i don’t want to make a decision too quick. not until i know i can find another job.”

“quit.”

“no.”

“quit.”

“no.”

“quit.”

…

“okay.”

she squealed in her chair, gaining some attention on the two of you.

“if you dare to lie to me right now, i’m gonna make you eat your own shit.”

you kicked her under the table, sending her a glare. “behave, bitch.”

┈ ⪩⪨   ┈

“oh, __! what brings you here today?” your boss, sehun immediately stood up from his chair, ready to greet you with a hug.

panicking, you reached your hand out with a paper, catching his attention. “this is..?”

“my resignation notice, sir.”

“your what?”

he took the paper from your grip, examining it carefully. his eyebrows fell together, eyes scanning every single word.

he backed up, resting on the edge of his table. he looked at the paper again, rereading the first sentence.

‘Kindly accept this letter as my formal resignation…’

“are you sure, __?” he asked, putting the paper on his table. he crossed his arms, frustration written on his face.

you fixed your hair, giving him a firm nod. “yeah, i’ve been thinking of it for a while now.”

“i’m glad i could be a part of this amazing team, but i just feel like,” you struggled to find the words, obviously you didn’t want to tell in his face.

‘aye bruh, stop bein’ a pervert and you might stop losing your workers’

“look, teaching isn’t my thing. and i feel horrible to find that out so late.”

“well, if your passion for teaching ever comes back, you’re more than welcomed here.”

“thank you,” you smiled, because even though he’s the most annoying person you’ve ever met, your co-workers have always been kind to you.

the children also love you, and you’re extremely thankful for all the support and love you got from everyone.

during the usual lunch break, you co-workers heard the news too. they all wished you the best with a hug, some getting emotional too.

officially, this was your last week working at the school.

when you got home, sasha sent you a link to an advertisement.

‘looking for a nanny’

you laughed, dialing her contact. didn’t take her long to answer, obviously. she’s always on her damn phone, even when working.

“you can’t be serious. a nanny?” you laughed, finding the idea of you with a kid ridiculous.

“have you seen the description? girl, they pay damn well!” she said, followed by her exhaling.

“didn’t you say you’re gonna stop smoking?”

“i stopped. for three hours.”

you shook your head, putting her on speaker as you clicked the advertisement.

“fifty thousand won?” you blurted out loud, “a day?!” sasha hummed on the other side of the call.

“told ya’..”

“that’s.. nice. woah, yeah, nice.” you mumbled as you continued to read the requirements and some important details about the job.

“give it a try.” sasha said, but your eyes caught a sentence.

“they want someone with experience, as expected.” you let out a long sigh and fell back on your bed.

“you got the experience.”

“me? sasha, i never looked after a kid-“

“you work with kids. first and second graders. and they all fuckin’ love you.”

“that’s different.” you groaned.

“it’s not. a kid is a kid. 3 year olds are just as damn annoying as 7 year olds. prove me wrong..”

you laughed, she was right. they can be a huge pain in the ass, but they have the purest soul.

“true.”

“give it a try, __.” she said again, calling you by your name. oh she’s serious serious.

“yeah, i might call tomorrow then.”

“might? no, you will.” she corrected you and you rolled your eyes.

“sure.”

you called them the next day after considering it for half a day, being the typical embarrassment, you called at the wrong time.

the man was in a hurry, so you both just quickly agree on a time to meet in person. that happened to be the day after.

you looked at the address one more time after you got off the bus, realizing it was more of a wealthy neighborhood. you only had to walk about 5 minutes until you got there, hesitantly but you pressed the bell.

a tall, young man opened the door. his skin is smooth and fair, almost perfect. his hair dark, slightly wavy which was styled in a mullet cut, longer at the back.

his choice in clothes seemed to be rich, a white ribbed polo shirt with short sleeves, causing your eyes to drop to his sleeve tattoo in a second. he paired it with black tailored trousers.

“hey, you must be __?” he asked with uncertainty and you came back to life, smiling to him.

“yeah, i am.”

“great, come in.”

he stepped aside and you walked in, taking off your shoes and jacket.

the house was oddly barely decorated, not a single picture or painting on the walls, very few plants, which you’re sure are fake plants also. the house wasn’t really colorful, most of the furnitures are bright. like beige and cream white.

“would you like a drink? water, tea, soda? maybe coffee?” he suggested as he walked in front of you, leading you to the living room.

“no, thank you.” you politely refused, feeling a little.. off in such a nice home. not something you’re used to.

you sat down on the couch, carefully not to mess the neatly placed pillows behind. god you looked so uncomfortable and awkward.

“i’d like to introduce myself again, in person this time.” he spoke as he sat down on the armchair, next to the couch.

“i’m jeon jungkook, 27. i’m a dentist in the center of seoul. i’m the father of a sweet angel, nabi. she turns 5 in a few weeks, we could say she’s in her, erm,” he struggled to find an appropriate word.

“crazy phase?” you asked with a smile.

“yeah, something like that. she’s been loud lately, that’s all.” he chuckled, resting his arms on his knees.

you nodded and held your small bag tightly, “i’d like to introduce myself better too, then.”

“i’m __, 24 and i currently work at an elementary school. i handed in my resignation letter and this is my last week as a teacher, so i’m searching for a new job currently.”

you paused, hesitant what else to say.

“elementary school? so, you work with kids?”

“yes, first and second grade.”

after a few minutes of getting to know each other more, a little girl, most likely his daughter, walked down the stairs with her sleepy appearance.

“oh!” she stopped the moment she saw you, the tiredness leaving her eyes.

“nabi, c’mere.” jungkook held out his hand, “this is __. what do you say?” he asked her, holding her tiny hands.

“hello.” she greeted you and you smiled, her shyness is adorable.

“hi.”

“__ is here because she would like to look after you.” he said and she looked up to him so fast, you thought her neck would snap.

“daddy, are you leeving me?” she gasped and jungkook chuckled at her words, shaking his head.

“no, but when i’m at work, someone needs to be here and take care of you. how about __, does she seem nice? hm?��

the little girl shrugged, hugging her father’s arm. he sent her back to the bedroom, saying he would be there soon too.

“well, she’s a little shy at first but, i think she’s gonna open up fast.” he smiled and stood up, your eyes widening a bit and you stood up too.

“does that mean, i got the job?”

“see you next monday?” he asked and you almost started jumping, but you held back. instead, you gave him a huge smile and nodded.

“monday then.”

[clesired]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 | 𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “can i request a george weasley x reader where she’s harry’s sister? set in the goblet of fire?” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! fun fact: no one loves harder than a weasley!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! no warnings, fluff, comfort ( reader big sister-ing harry ), gryffindor potter fem!reader, established relationship, second person pov, 1.7k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You watch as your little brother storms through the doors of the Great Hall, Hermione hot on his heels.

You want to move—but you’re torn between chasing after Harry and his angel of a best friend, or turning around and hexing his dimwitted doorknob of another.

Ever since Harry’s name was pulled out of the Goblet of Fire, it’s like the whole school has turned on him. And no one worse than his very own best mate, Ron Weasley.

And of course when Ron is upset, everyone else has to be too.

He’d started a row with Harry in the middle of breakfast, and when he’d lost it on Hermione for stepping in and defending your brother—Harry had reached his limit and walked away. No doubt because he’d been seconds away from socking Ron a good one.

And you’re honestly not too far behind him, but your big sister instincts ultimately win out and you rush out of the hall in hopes of catching up to the younger Gryffindors before they’re out of sight.

Your head swivels from left to right as soon as you burst through the doors, but to no success. And with the amount of hidden passageways and corridors in this castle—you’re shite out of luck.

So caught up in looking for any clues as to which way they may have gone, you completely miss the arrival of another person.

“C’mon, sweetheart—there’s no use looking for them now.” George’s voice rings out gently as he steps in front of you. His large hand falls to your shoulder and squeezes, a familiar feeling that calms you.

You lean into his touch—seeking his comfort, but shake your head in denial. “I have to try, Georgie. He’s my brother.”

“He’ll be alright, sweetheart. Hermione’s got him.” He murmurs against your hairline as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead, his hand rubbing up and down your arm soothingly.

“You hardly even touched your plate before mini Potter was storming off. Come back and eat. Give him some time to cool off, yeah?” He coaxes gently and you let out a soft sigh.

“If I go back in there now, I’m afraid you’ll be walking out with one less brother.” You murmur quietly as you look up at him, earning a soft chuckle from your boyfriend.

“That’s okay, still got four of ‘em left.” He jokes quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Ginny’s beat you to it, darling.”

That makes you smile, and you pull away from him to peer at the doors—as if trying to see through them.

“She throw a Bat-Bogey yet?” You ask curiously, the smile on your face a testament to how upset you are with Ron right now.

Normally, you’re like two peas in a pod—mainly because Ron knows if he’s on your good side, George won’t prank him.

You know that’s the real reason he talks to you, but you don’t really care.

Ron can be particularly nasty if he’s on bad terms with a person—proven by this morning’s lovely show, and you’d rather not deal with that sort of nuisance; so you entertain him.

But all of that is out the window now. Ron has gone too far this time—accusing Harry of deliberately putting his name in the Goblet of Fire and cheating. As if he needs another threat to his life after all that he’s already been through. Ridiculous.

“Not yet, but her hand was looking pretty twitchy before I ran out.” George’s voice is laced in amusement now, as he comes up behind you and gently steers you toward the Great Hall.

You smile softly. “You always know what to say to make me feel better.”

George chuckles. “Comes with the job of being your boyfriend, sweetheart. One promise of Weasley-on-Weasley violence, check.”

“Well now that makes me feel bad.” You frown softly as you walk through the doors.

“Don’t. He had it coming.” He squeezes you gently before smirking. “And plus—Fred and I have been waiting for an excuse to prank ickle Ronniekins without making you mad.”

As the Gryffindor table comes back into view and you find that Ginny has in fact casted an absolute wicked Bat-Bogey Hex while you were gone, you smile.

George’s words ring in your ear as a thought occurs and you turn to look at him—momentarily ignoring the chaos the flying bats are causing among the students and staff.

“You know what? Consider him out of my protection. You and Fred can prank him as much as you want from now on.” You declare.

This will be your get back at Ron for being a little shite to Harry. Only you are allowed to be mean to your little brother and get away with it.

George positively beams down at you as he places a fat kiss against your forehead and then looks over to his twin.

“Hear that, Freddie!? My witch gave us the go ahead on ickle Ronniekins!” He shouts, and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Fred pump his fists in triumph.

As you settle down at the table beside George and watch the Professors struggle to help Ron fight off the bats, you scan the table until you find Colin Creevey.

“Colin!” You call out, gaining his attention. “Do me a favour and take a picture of this, yeah? I’m sure Harry’s gonna love it.”

The amused smile on your little brother’s face when he looks at the picture later that day in the common room proves you correct.

“Figured since you couldn’t be there to see it in all its glory, I could get you the next best thing.” You shrug casually, before smirking.

“Oh, and the twins are working on a few ideas to make Ron’s life a bit more…entertaining for the next few weeks.” You say lightly.

Harry looks up to where Fred and George are sitting at a table, quietly discussing as they both pour over a parchment.

After a moment, he turns to smile at you, all traces of anger due to Ron’s awful behaviour absent from his expression—at least for the time being, until Ron inevitably opens his mouth again.

“You’re a great big sister, you know that?” Harry says quietly, and you chuckle.

“Obviously. We Potters never do anything by halves.” You smirk.

“Except for boyfriends!” George suddenly calls out as he looks up from the table and winks at you. “Get it, sweetheart? Because you’re dating a twin?”

You shake your head in fond amusement as you look at your boyfriend. “I got it, Georgie.” You smile, holding back a laugh.

He blows you an air kiss and you catch it before blowing one back in return. He smirks, before you both refocus on your respective brothers.

Harry is already looking at you by the time your head turns, and his smile is smaller now—but also softer.

“George is good for you. I’m glad you have him.” He says quietly, and you feel your heart warm.

By the time your little brother had entered Hogwarts, you and George had already been dating—and with all the crazy shenanigans that’s been going on ever since Harry’s first year…you two never really had a conversation about how he felt about it.

You know he never had a problem with your relationship—he would’ve said something if he had; but to actually hear him verbally approve you and George fills you with a particular joy you only ever feel when it involves your boyfriend.

“I’m glad I have him too.” You murmur softly as you glance back at the aforementioned wizard.

“No one loves harder than a Weasley, you know.” You add on as you look back at your brother.

“No one hates harder than one too, apparently.” He grumbles, and just like that—his face is darkening all over again as he thinks of Ron.

You sigh softly and wrap your arm around his shoulder, smiling when he lets you. The Dursleys did their number on the both of you, but it was worse for Harry—with physical touch being one of the things he sometimes gets a little finicky about.

Both you and Hermione have been working overtime throughout the years to get him used to it, and you’re proud to say that the progress is there.

Harry’s first instinct is to usually shy away from touch when he’s angry, but rather than pull away this time—he leans into your warmth.

“Ron is…Ron, and I have no doubt that Hermione can and probably already has given you a more in depth explanation on why he’s being a prat—so I won’t even bother trying.” You smile gently, before continuing.

“But what I will tell you is that sometimes friends fight. And it’s messy and it sucks, but it also strengthens the bond between you.” You pat him consolingly.

“I’m not saying you two are gonna make up tomorrow—even I know Ron’s too much of a git for that. But you will eventually.”

“How can you know that, though?” Harry asks quietly.

You shrug gently. “Call it big sister instinct, or the fact that you two have been through more things together in the past three years than most people go through in a lifetime. Whatever it is, you two are going to be just fine.”

Harry relaxes at that, and as the twins join you on the couch—George pulling you into his lap, and Hermione comes bursting through the common room rambling about what she read in the library about the Triwizard Tournament rules—you look back at your brother.

He’s watching the twins—who are now rattling off ideas to Hermione about how to get him out of the tournament, and you can tell that he’s touched by their efforts.

You lean into Harry to give him one last word of big sister advice. “Ron’s poor behaviour is more than upsetting, but he’ll come around eventually. In the meantime—you’ve got a pretty solid group of friends right here.”

You gesture to Hermione and the twins, and hold up the picture of Ginny casting a Bat-Bogey at Ron.

It’s not lost on either of you that three of the four people you pointed out are Weasleys, and Harry smirks.

“No one loves harder than a Weasley, indeed.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! its actually criminal that i dont have my own george, smh. i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[megumismyhusband]

Hiii!!! I don’t know if you’ve done this yet but could write a prompt or something (first time requesting :) about Rin being jealous of reader’s male friend without realizing there gay?? TYY if you do it. I would love for it to be fluff!!

Take care!! ^^

rin was scrolling through his phone while you chatted away with your guy best friend, on facetime. rin wasn’t really paying attention at first, but then he caught snippets of your laughter and saw how smiley you were. his eyes narrowed slightly.

“so, what’s the plan for next weekend?” you asked your friend, grinning. “are we doing the whole choosing each other’s outfits thing again?”

he gasped dramatically on the side of the phone. “obviously! you think i’m letting you get away with looking anything less than perfection?”

rin let out a small huff, catching your attention. you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “something wrong, babe?”

“nothing,” he muttered, looking away. but his jaw was tight, and you could tell something was bothering him.

after you ended the call with your friend, you leaned over to rin, poking his cheek. “okay, spill. what’s with the pouty face?”

“i’m not pouting,” he grumbled, clearly pouting.

you giggled. “is this about my friend?”

“���no,” he said, too quickly. “it’s just—he’s really… friendly.”

you blinked, and then it clicked. “wait. are you jealous?”

rin crossed his arms, glaring at the floor. “i’m not jealous. it’s just weird how close you two are.”

you couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. rin’s frown deepened. “what’s so funny?”

“he’s gay, rinnie. like, the only thing he loves more than me is his boyfriend.”

rin froze, processing that. “oh.”

“yeah,” you teased, leaning closer to him. “so all that brooding was for nothing, huh?”

he groaned, covering his face with his hands. “don’t make it worse.”

“aww, it’s cute that you got jealous, though.” you nudged him playfully. “you’re kind of adorable when you’re all possessive.”

rin peeked at you through his fingers, his ears tinged pink. “shut up.”

you laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “don’t worry, you’re still my favorite grump.”

[miabebe]

Two Many Beds (Choi Seungcheol) Teaser

Reverse Trope Series Installment 1.5

Choi Seungcheol was your parent's best friend's son, the man you lived with for two odd years and the face you woke up to everyday but that didn't mean the two of you didn't have issues to navigate. After all, everything changed when one argument turned into two beds and seven days apart. Your only worry was that in all this, the distance it took over twenty years to cover, might just find its way between the two of you again....

Pairing - Choi Seungcheol x afab! Reader

Word Count- 3.4k for teaser (Estimated full fic WC - 13k)

Genre - Ah our sweet little idiots have gotten some issues so angst, romance, hurt/comfort, obviously banter cause it's these two. Oh and smut.

Warnings -smut, making out, cheol lifts reader, fingering (that's all for teaser, lots more coming in the full fic hehe)

A/n - Hello my loves, surprise surprise! This is super duper overdue - The love Too Many Beds gets to date still makes me feel so touched so I wanted to have a little something out for everyone who, like me, is so attached to our little idiots in love! If you want to be tagged in the full fic, please leave a comment below and if you want to be tagged in all fics of the series, then drop a comment on the taglist!

TUESDAY

You glanced at Seungcheol silently getting ready in front of the mirror. The man still doesn't know how to tie his tie. 

On any other day, he would've asked you to do it, looking down at you fondly while you worked the knot but today he just threw it on the bed with a frustrated sound and walked off. Sighing, you picked it up, folding it neatly, putting it on the rack.

Seungcheol also really loved to eat breakfast with you. Yeah it was his favourite meal of the day but what he really liked was watching you in the kitchen, humming and swaying around to the music as you cooked. You, of course, loved having his eyes on you first thing in the morning - more often than not, it was you who ended up on the table for him to have his fill. 

Today though, he barely glanced at the kitchen before he grabbed his bag, slipped on his shoes and closed the door behind him with a resounding slam. No kiss today. In the two years that you’ve lived together, he’s never not kissed you. 

Huffing annoyed, you threw your half eaten pancakes in the bin and followed his suit - grabbed your bag, wore your heels and slammed the door shut behind you. 

This was stupid. 

This whole fight was stupid. 

You didn't mean for it to escalate this far. What had been a casual statement that stemmed purely out of frustration had turned into a full blown Cold War. 

You picked up the photo of the two of you in your office, the one that you had framed, the one from your wedding. From your first wedding actually, when the two of you got sick of your parents fussing over the arrangements and simply flew to Greece overnight, getting married there, all by yourselves. You really love this picture - Seungcheol wearing a perfectly fitted white shirt, his arms wrapped around you from behind while you matched him, donning a white beach gown, a pretty crown of flowers on your head as you half turned to look at him, the two of you laughing. 

Being married to Seungcheol was.....like a dream. To be honest, you hadn't ever dreamt this was possible - that your parents best friend's son and childhood arch rival would be the one whose arms you'd wake up in everyday.

Again, except today. 

Today you woke up on the bed alone while he spent the night on the couch. Given how much Seungcheol liked to cling onto you in his sleep, you were habituated to waking up all suffocated, pulling away from his grip while he’d draw you back, snuggling in your arms, asking you for five minutes more. Sometimes he let you go in five, sometimes it became twenty, with two orgasms added. Either way, with him you always woke up hot, sweaty and mildly annoyed but you missed his warmth today.

You missed him terribly.  

But not anymore.

This had to end. 

Seungcheol didn’t expect to see you at home so early. 

Ever since your event management venture had started, you had been busy with the logistics of it all - hiring people, setting up the office, and dealing with your first ever event, your dear cousin’s wedding. That meant you often reached home around midnight, way after Seungcheol finished his dinner, when he would be slipping into bed. To see you in the kitchen, whipping up a meal should have been a pleasant surprise yet Seungcheol showed no change of expression - he simply threw his bag on the couch, changed into his gym clothes and left the house. 

Sighing, you grabbed his bag and slid it on the shelf in his office room. It had been years yet his habit of leaving things around hadn’t changed one bit. Neither did he - he was just as caring, just as in love with you and just as much your best friend as he had been since day one. It was you who was the idiot. 

Last night, even though you had come home earlier than usual, for some reason you were more exhausted than you had ever been. Seungcheol of course, like any doting husband, was happy to see you, pulling you onto his lap the moment you dropped on the couch, finding your lips with a long, much needed kiss. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be intimate with him, but there was something weighing on your mind when you walked into the house, something you had been meaning to ask him. But before you could get a word out, gripping your thighs he lifted you in his arms, walking you towards the room. 

“Cheol, I wanted to ask you something.” 

“What?” Setting you on the bed, he hovered over you, pulling his shirt over his head. You were feeling unnaturally hot too, so you quickly unbuttoned your shirt and like he had been deprived for months, Seungcheol ravenously descended on your breasts, littering the curve of it with hurried kisses and bites. It hadn’t even been that long since the two of you last had sex… okay, it had been a week which was considerably long given how often you two got at it but you had been really busy launching your business, just like you were busy thinking about it now.  

“Cheol, listen to me.” 

“I’m listening.” He said but his hands worked on your pants, pulling them down as his mouth found your neck. 

“No you’re not.”

“Okay, fine, I’m not.” He sighed, slipping his fingers below your underwear, finding you wet between your legs. “But I’m also not going anywhere, we can talk after-” 

“But this is important-”

“So is this.” He muttered, sliding his fingers in slowly, pulling out a soft moan from you. “Fuck, I missed you baby.” 

Screw this man. Nothing made you feel as good as he did.

“I missed you too…” Holding his face in your hands, you kissed him softly, clenching around his digits. “F-faster Cheol.” 

Groaning he adjusted over you, putting himself in an angle that allowed him to slip another finger in, pumping them faster, curling them when needed.

“Oh god yes…” Forehead pressed against his, you felt your eyes shut as the knot deliciously tightened in your guts. Watching you ready to fall apart, Seungcheol found your clit with his thumb, the sensation of him rubbing circles making your walls flutter around his fingers, soaking them. 

“That’s it baby.” He whispered, encouraging you to ride it out, allowing you to grind your hips against his hand. “Come for me.”

And within minutes, you did, your orgasm washing you in waves as you wrapped your arms around your husband, nails digging into his back as the most wonderful sigh of relief left your being. 

Seungcheol chuckled as you held on to him, your breath fast and shallow. “Are you okay? You just seem so wound up these days, I thought this might help.” 

You grimaced as you let him go, allowing him to roll off you. “Yeah, work’s really been a bitch off late, which is why I-” 

“Shhh.” Seungcheol pulled you into his arms again, dropping a soft kiss on your head. “Just leave work behind for a bit Y/n. You’re home now, take a breather and relax.” 

“I’m not too tired or anything.” You pulled away from him, sitting up. “And I know I shouldn’t bring work home but the business is just launching and I don’t want to mess things up.”

“Hey,” Seungcheol followed your suit, sitting on his knees. “You won’t. You’re one of the most capable people I know, you got this.” 

You sighed. 

He was always so encouraging, he always believed in you so much. But maybe if he just listened he’d know the truth. He’d know you weren’t that capable after all. That things were messing up. That you really needed help. 

“How about you just-ow!” You shrieked as you shifted, trying to put some space between the two of you. 

Your hand had found that bumpy crack between both beds, slipping right in between it, the edges of the mattress grazing your palm.

Yes both beds - Unfortunately, you and Seungcheol had to bring the beds from your childhood in your parents' house because thanks to um certain activities, the comfortable king size bed in your master bedroom had effectively…. broken. Since then, the two of you had put together the two single beds you had grown up in, promising to go mattress shopping when you were free. It had been a month now but somehow, the time for it never came. 

“We really need a new bed.” You mumbled, rubbing your hand, moving away to your side. “It's been days since we slept properly.” 

Seungcheol hummed, half crawling towards you. “I told you, we didn’t need two, you and I can manage on one-”

“Cheol…” You let out a breath, knowing what he was approaching you for again. “You said we’d talk after-” 

“Yes after.” He smirked, pushing you back gently, hovering over you again. “But I’m not done with you.” 

Oh he was only just getting started. You could feel his erection pressing against your groin and considering it had been a while since the two of you were intimate, you knew it wouldn’t end anytime soon. Seungcheol had the tendency to go on for hours sometimes. 

Softly pushing him off, you turned away. “What if we spoke first and then continued-”

“You know I don’t like leaving things halfway-” 

“Yeah well you shouldn’t have started it in the first place-”

“You say that after you’ve had your turn.” He pulled you back, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth by your ear. “It’s too late to back out now baby.”  

“No it's not too late,” You wiggled in his grip. “We could just stop-”

“Nope,” Seungcheol smirked against your skin, his hand going between your legs again. “It's my turn now-”

“Cheol, I said stop!” 

You didn’t mean to push him with such force or for your elbow to land right in his stomach - all you wanted was to simply get away for a minute. Seungcheol looked at you wide eyed and surprised as you slid off the bed, buttoning your shirt again. 

“For God’s sake Cheol, I’ve been trying to talk to you for so long but all you want to do is have sex!?” 

Sitting up, Seungcheol looked confused, concerned and hurt all at once. “Y/n I… I thought-”

“How about you stop thinking and listen to me!” You exploded, glaring at him accusatorily. “I really wanted to talk to you Cheol, I wanted to share something but you just….” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose you turned away from him.

“Y/n I’m sorry…” You didn’t notice the way he winced, holding his abdomen as he slid off the bed, approaching you hesitatingly. “You seemed so stressed, I thought I was helping-” 

“The way for you to help was to listen to me!” You threw your hands in the air. “Do you have any idea how much pressure I am under? I’m trying to do something for us, for our future, but all you want to do is just…. it’s been barely a week Cheol, why is sex always the only thing on your mind?” 

“You…” Seungcheol looked at you like he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “You think this was about me? That sex is all I care about?” 

The moment those words left him, you knew you were wrong. Of course not, Seungcheol loved you, more than anything and you knew that. He was just trying to help - how was he to know that you weren’t just trying to vent like always, that you wanted to ask him if he could quit his job and join you in the business? How was he to know the severity of things? 

“I…” You turned around to him, finding him clutching his stomach, wincing in pain. “Oh my god Cheol, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t.” He held his hand out as you approached. “Please don’t.” 

And with that, he walked out of the room, leaving you alone, regretting your words. 

That night, you tried to approach him again but Seungcheol was uncharacteristically subjecting you to silent treatment. You knew that wasn’t his way of working through things - Seungcheol was a mature man. He talked things through, he knew how to fix issues. The fact that he wasn’t having any conversation with you clearly meant that your words had hurt him beyond belief. Of course you were sorry about it, and you tried telling him that, many times, but he didn’t seem to listen. Instead, for the first time in two years of marriage, Seungcheol slept on the couch, away from you. 

You had hoped he would at least be more receptive to you in the morning but his cold behaviour continued and his stubborness irked you. Fine, if he was going to be such a child about this, so were you. But as the day progressed you realised how stupid it all was. You didn’t want to play tit for tat with your husband, you just wanted things to be normal with him again. That’s why leaving all your work behind, you wrapped up the last meeting of the day as quickly as you could and arrived home way before the sun set, making his favourite meal as an apology. 

But it seemed like he still didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t smile when you smiled at him. He didn’t smirk at you when your eyes ran down his water streaked, towel clad body as he stepped out of the shower. He didn’t even eat dinner - just donned his pajamas and got ready to sleep on the couch. Again. 

“Cheol,” You walked up to him as he threw his comforter on the couch. “I understand you’re mad but that’s no reason to avoid eating.” 

“I already ate.” His answer was curt. Hurtful. He would never forgo the chance to eat a meal made by you. 

“Cheol I’m so sorry about yesterday, you know I didn’t mean what I said, it was just in the heat of the moment.” 

Silence. That’s all he gave to you in return. Silence. 

You watched as he settled on the couch, turning on the tv, ignoring your presence. You could’ve just walked off. You could’ve just let your ego take over - after all you had been constantly apologizing to him since last night while he was behaving like a five year old. But at least one of you had to behave like an adult so you did, sitting on the floor before him, taking his hands into yours. 

“Cheol listen to me-”

“Y/n please, don’t do this, get up.” 

You ignored him. “Cheol I’m really sorry, tell me what I should do to fix this-” 

“First get up please, just…” He pulled you onto your feet, making you sit on the couch next to him. “You don’t have to apologise like that.” 

“Then what do I have to do to make things right again? To make us okay again?” 

“It’s….” Seungcheol sighed looking away. “It’s not you. I…. I was just thinking about things. I didn’t mean to seem cold.” 

“You ignored me all day.” You turned his head to you, glancing at him sadly. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye…” 

“I didn’t know if I should.” He whispered, looking away. “I didn’t know what you’d think of me if I got close to you again.” 

“Cheol…” You could feel tears pricking your eyes. You had really hurt him. 

Throwing your leg around his waist, you climbed into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tight. Too tight. 

But Seungcheol didn’t hold you back. 

“I’m really really sorry Cheol.” You muttered in the crook of his neck. “I’ve just been so stressed about work. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, it was not fair to take my frustration out on you.” 

When he still didn’t wrap his arms around you, you pulled back, holding his face in your hands softly. “I know it wasn’t just about sex, I know you were trying to help and I’m sorry I lashed out. Please just….. Please talk to me, we can talk it out-” 

“No, no I’m sorry Y/n.” He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “I didn’t mean to shut you out, I just…was thinking about what you said and-”

“Please don’t.” You hugged him tight again and this time, Seungcheol hugged you back, placing a soft kiss in your hair. “Just forget what happened, okay? It was my bad, it was just in the moment.” 

You could feel him hum, his chest vibrating against yours as you held onto your husband, relieved to have finally put this behind you. The two of you sat like that till the sound of the rain hitting the glass with a soft pitter patter took over the silence and you drew back, looking at him with a small smile. 

“Come sleep in the room?” 

Seungcheol nodded, letting you go as you quickly slid off his lap and grabbed his bedding, heading to the room.

“You didn’t have dinner either Y/n.” 

“Not hungry!” You called back as you put the pillows on his side of the bed again. “I’m kinda nauseous actually.” 

Walking into the room, Seungcheol looked he didn’t believe you before his eyes fell on the bed you were making and he gulped. 

“Y/n I…”

You turned, looking at him confused. “What happened?” 

“I can’t do this.” He confessed, taking a step back. “I can’t…”

“But Cheol I apologised-”

“No, no.” He quickly approached you, noticing how your face fell. “You didn’t have to, you were right, I… I’m the problem-” 

“That’s not true-” 

“If helping you was what I wanted, I would've stopped after you were done but I...” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t listen when you kept saying you wanted to talk, I just kept going on, like some untamed animal-”

“Cheol stop it.” You reached for his hands, trying to talk sense into him again. “You know its not like that-”

“Do we?” He looked at you frowning. “How do we know I’m not some sort of crazy sex addict?” 

“Because you…what?” You looked at him like he wasn’t making any sense. Clearly, whatever went down last night was still not letting him think straight. “Cheol what are you saying?” 

“I just… I don’t want to sleep here.” He pulled away from you. “I don’t want to sleep with you till I know I’m…”

You let out a deep breath, shaking your head. “You’re being really unreasonable right now.” 

“I just want to prove to myself that it's… it's not all about sex.” 

“There’s nothing wrong in wanting to have sex with your wife!”

“But I also want it to be more! To listen to you, to look after you, to be there for you.” 

“And you think not sleeping with me is the solution?” 

“I’m not trying to solve anything.” Seungcheol insisted. “I just want to put some space between us…. Didn’t you say last night that it had only been a week? So just, give me another, I’m… just trying to see something for myself.” 

You blinked at him. You had so many rebuttals to counter him, so many things to point out that didn’t make sense. But you also knew Seungcheol well enough - there was no point arguing with him, not when he was so emotionally driven. The only way to do it was to give him what he asked - seven days. You could do that much, right? 

“Your back is going to hurt if you sleep on the couch for a week.” You crossed your arms, letting out a heavy breath. “You can just sleep on the bed. Nothing has to happen between us.” 

Seungcheol glanced over your shoulder, lost in thought. Then suddenly he walked over and grabbed the bottom of the bed, pulling the cot apart, turning one bed into two. You watched as he dragged it away, putting a considerable distance between the two of you. “Cheol….” 

“Just seven days.” 

You looked at him across you, sitting at a distance it had taken over 20 years for the two of you to cover. All you could hope was that the next seven days did not put a lifetime of distance between the two of you again. 

A/n- Ahhhh I'm so excited to have the full fic out! I didn't think I would ever continue the story for these two but not gonna lie, they're always on my mind hehehe Do leave your thoughts and comments - it'll truly push me to get the full fic out fasterrr

[pinkdaiisies]

Fred Weasley x Reader Favourite

summary: Late night common room cuddles lead to quite eventful mornings.

notes: anybody a fontaines d.c fan? I've had the line: "You've been my, favourite for a long time" stuck in my head for a while.

Fred glanced at you from across the couch in the common room. It was late, and the common room was nearly empty. Even George had gone upstairs because he was tired.

Fred had slowly started to inch closer to you on the couch. The spot that was once occupied by George was now empty, allowing Fred to sneakily sit closer to you. You paid no attention to him, your gaze followed the words within your potions textbook, preparing you for your exam later next week.

You and Fred have been playing this game for a while now. Lingering glances, legs touching on train rides, sitting too close in the great hall, and even late night common room cuddles.

It was tearing you apart.

You were best friends with Fred and George since the first train ride to Hogwarts. As the years progressed you realized how much Fred meant to you. Although it seemed like Fred felt the same way, it was too nerve-racking to have a conversation about it. Because what if you were imagining the stolen glances, or the hand holding that lasted too long for just friends? You'd rather just enjoy it than to put a label on it and ruin something great. Because at the end of the day he really was your best friend.

The heat from the fire comforted you as you tried to retain the information from the book. Eventually, you felt Fred at your side, still paying him no mind.

"Hey," he said while taking your chin into his hand, guiding your gaze from the pages to his freckled adorned face. You knew he could tell the exam was eating you up inside. "Take a break, would you?" He whispered softly. His voice sent butterflies to your stomach. You nodded reluctantly as you closed the book and tossed it to the ground.

Fred put his arm around you, and you rested your head on his shoulder. You two had spent many nights like this. Waiting for everyone in the common room to leave just to spend some time alone, rushing back to your dorms before anyone would suspect anything.

You two chatted about nothing important for a while. Fred occasionally tracing patterns onto your leg. The motions being extremely relaxing, made your eyelids feel heavier. The last thing you remember was Fred whispering in your ear about pretty you looked with the lighting from the fire.

Next thing you know, you're laying horizontal, Freds arms completely around you. Your back was to his chest, with your legs scrunched due to the size of the couch. Your hands were intermingled with his.

"Harry do you still have that muggle camera? I have got to remember this forever!" The voice of George made you wake up a bit.

"Merlins beard!" Ron's shout made both you and Fred jump up.

You both looked at each other. Realization setting in at the same time. With widened eyes, you separated from Fred, adjusting your clothes from the day before.

What felt like the entire Gryffindor class, was in the common room staring at you two.

With overlapped shouts trying to defend yourselves, you and Fred slowly backed into the dorm entrance to make your escape.

You got dressed and clean as quick as you could. Although you wish you could curl up into a ball and never leave your dorm ever, you grabbed your bag and descended toward the great hall for breakfast.

You entered the common room in a rush. Fred was waiting for you. The common room was empty besides the couple sitting on the couch you and Fred had fallen asleep on. The boy kissed his girlfriend on the cheek as she giggled.

You kept walking in a rush while Fred caught up with you. You turned towards him as you stopped walking.

"What are we going to say Fred! This wouldn't have happened if you had just let me keep studying!" You whisper shouted, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourselves.

"What do you mean! I thought you wanted this as badly as I do!" Fred shouted back.

"What do you mean?" You said as you looked up at him.

"Well, obviously I'm in love with you! I thought you were too, but if you want to pretend this never happened go ahead!" He turned for the common room exit, but before he could leave you grabbed his wrist.

"Are you sure?... that you're in love with me?" you asked nervously. Having this conversation was just as scary as you had imagined.

Fred said your name softly, "We fell asleep on the same couch together, what do you think?" This caused you to giggle.

"I love you too." You smiled up at Fred who pulled you into a hug.

"Let's get breakfast. I'm starving." Fred said as he grabbed your hand and guided you to the great hall.

[admirationandromantics]

Best Friend's Brother

This request is literally 10 days old, which, to some, might not seem as a long time. For me however, it is. I'm sorry, but as I've described, I'm just trying to balance writing and school right now, so I'll be writing a little less than before.

Word count: 1,6k (unedited)

could u write a best friend older brother trope josh x reader. luv you works btww xx -anon

I knock on the door, waiting for Beth to open up. We’d planned a movie night while her parents were gone, and Hannah was at Sam’s. Josh was still home, but she told me he wouldn’t be a bother, and would probably stay in his room the whole night. 

I have met him many times before, and would even call us friends. Though at the same time, I often wonder if he looks at me like another baby sister, despite only being one year apart. He often gives me a hard time, teasing me and joking around, but most times, I don’t mind. I usually also hope that he never means anything with his small occasional comments, because nothing will happen either way. My best friend’s brother? That would be a problem just waiting to happen. 

Josh and I have been drunk together, partied together and been on get togethers together, though I’m not familiar with everyone in their group yet. 

I stand outside, my patience running low in the cold weather, wishing I brought a scarf. I hear footsteps coming from inside. Finally. The door unlocks, and a broad, tan Josh in a thin rolled up sweater and some sweatpants stands there, arm against the doorframe. He gives a small smile, looking me over. 

“Well, look who decided to come while the parents are out” he coos, a small whistling sound coming out of his lips. 

“Well, hello Joshua, care to let me in?” 

He smiles, contemplating whether to make this difficult or not. I look around, sighing and waiting for an answer, thinking about shouting Beth’s name and telling her that her brother is being a prick. Luckily, he opens the door further, making space for me to walk inside. “Thank you” I say, trying to hide my smile a bit. I’ve been here many times before, so I immediately know where to hang my coat and leave everything else. Josh keeps standing there, watching me. 

“Beth is out, said something about getting snacks for your movie night” He explains, and I nod. The store is not far from here, so she will probably be back soon. 

“Well then, do you know which movie she’s got planned?”

“Of course I do, I’m the one who helps pick them out”

I give him a curious and sceptical look, not having heard this before. He keeps his gaze locked on my gaze, a small smirk playing on his lips. 

“Have you?” 

“Every time” 

My mouth opens a little. Beth is always talking about her great taste in movies, never having mentioned this before. 

“No, are you serious? Beth has never given you any credit”

“Little sisters… what do you expect?” 

I hum, not knowing how to respond to that. I walk inside, him following closely as I sit myself by the kitchen counter. 

“So, what movie have you chosen then?” I ask, looking up at him again. Instead of sitting, he just leans against the counter with one arm, body turned my way. I can’t help my gaze, looking over his revealed forearms. 

“Something a bit different than usual…” he smirks, eyes following my gaze down to his arms. I break free, leaning forward a bit. 

“Okay, what movie?” 

“A scary one” 

“No”

“Oh yes” 

I whine, leaning back again. I hate scary movies, I hate jumpscares and gore. Why can’t people just like normal, funny, cozy stuff? 

“Josh, are you serious?”

“And there we go, you’re starting to use my nickname” 

“Joshua! Are you serious?”

“Well, that lasted for long”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. This is not how I want to spend my night, and considering that the walk home will be dark and scary, this movie will definitely fuel my fears. 

“Hey, calm down, it’s a good movie, maybe you just haven’t seen a good scary movie yet, this one might change your mind about the whole genre” He smiles, a hand going to my arm. I can't help the small blush coming from the touch, his fingers warm and comforting. I don’t want to do this, but I really can’t object when Beth is the one getting everything ready, and I just need to show up and have a good time. Or pretend I’m having a good time. 

The door opens, and his hand is immediately removed as Beth comes in, a big bag in her hands. She doesn’t notice me at first. 

“Beth!” I exclaim, and she lifts her head, nose a little red from the cold outside. 

“Hey, oh sorry, I didn’t have time to go earlier today” 

“That’s completely fine, here, let me take it” I state, walking over and taking the bag from her hands as she starts undressing. 

“My brother didn’t bother you?” 

I look over at him, and he just gives a small laugh, shaking his head and putting his hands up defensively. 

“No, he was fine” 

“Good, now, let's go” She smiles, leading me away from him, into their living room. She finds a couple of bowls, letting me distribute the snack in them as she works on getting the movie going. 

“Okay, so I know you’re not a scary movie-person, but I know this one is really good, so please, keep an open mind” 

I laugh a little, thinking back on the fact that Josh is the one who actually picked this out. 

“I’ll keep an open mind then” 

“Great” 

The movie starts, and we both sit down, a blanket over us as the lights dim. At first, the movie seems fine, the occasional jump scare, which scares me much more than it does Beth. Still, I keep watching, body tense and uncomfortable, but I can’t take my eyes off it. We’re in the middle when someone gets violently cut up, and the camera doesn’t bother to show us anything else than the blood and flesh flying everywhere, the gore not stopping. I take a breath, pulling my eyes from the screen and standing up. 

“I just need to use the bathroom”

“Gonna puke?”

I laugh a little, the tension in my shoulders easing as she talks. 

“No, but if there’s no important information in this sequence, please feel free to skip it, I'll be quick” I say, already making my way to the yellow-lighted hallway. It's light, in contrast to the room I was just in, and that makes me ease up a little more. Gosh, if this was to keep going, I wouldn’t dare walking home tonight. 

Suddenly, I hear a click, and the light goes away, leaving me in the dark hallway. I stop, looking around, unsure about what just happened. Another breath escapes my lips, reminding me that I can’t keep holding my breath everytime something startling happens. The hallway looks empty both ways, so I continue further, crossing my fingers that the light in the bathroom at least works. 

Before I can react, a couple of strong arms grab me from behind, caging me. I’m about to yell out, but as if anticipating it, the hand goes over my mouth, muffling my screams. I’m slammed into the wall, not too hard, luckily, but I close my eyes before the impact arrives. As I open them again, a smiling Josh is standing in front of me, biting his lips to hold in his laugh. My heart is still beating fast, breaths coming in and out in a rapid manner. I grab his hand roughly, dragging it off my mouth. 

“Joshua Washington! Are you fucking insane??” 

He bursts out laughing, arms against the wall beside me, holding himself up as he leans over. I shake my head, mouth still a little open in shock, whilst he can’t stop laughing. 

“Maybe, but you should’ve seen your face!” He chuckles, one of his hands going to his stomach to compose himself. It’s probably hurting right now from all the laughter. 

“Joshua! What the hell is wrong with you!?” 

“Okay, okay, calm down, just a little prank on my part” He smiles, finally calming down. 

“I have been watching a fucking horror movie, and you pull this shit?”

He bites his lip again, tilting his head a bit to examine me. 

“Oh, come on now, you’re totally thinking it’s funny” 

“No, I’m not” 

“Or you’re into it or something…”

“Wait, what, no I’m not, what kind of sick-”

Before I can process what’s happening, his lips are on me. I feel his breath, his body close, soft lips moving ove mine. My heart is still beating rapidly, but oddly enough, it calms with the way he’s touching me. Tender and carefully, not like himself at all. His hand goes to my waist, body pressing mine into the wall, opening his mouth a little. I hear a little groan leaving his throat. He pulls away, faces close as his eyes go over me, looking up and down. I almost think he looks a little vulnerable, but his signature smirk finds its way to his lips again. 

“Well then, calmer now?” 

I look at him, confused, conflicted. I scoff, shaking my head a bit. 

“No, I think I need a little more help” I state, hand going to the back of his neck, pulling him into me again. Capturing his lips on mine, already opening my mouth. He does the same, one hand on my hips, pulling me into him. 

“Hey, finished in the bathroom soon? I’ve paused the movie, the gore is over!” Beth shouts from the living room. We both pull away from each other and look over to the living room, luckily not seeing her there. I look back at him, seeing his chest heaving, hot breaths coming from his mouth. He turns, looking into my eyes. 

“Guess we better finish calming you down later” He smiles, pushing himself off me and the wall, walking back to his room. 

Fuck, what have I gotten myself into?

[christussy]

boyfriend award

fred weasley x reader

——— fred weasley is ultimately the best boyfriend you’ve ever had ———

he wasn’t your first boyfriend but definitely your last, or at least it felt that way because of how in love you were with him.

laying on his hard chest as he tangled your hair, fred weasley was ultimately the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

you came to that conclusion quite early on.

he was the most lovable guy at hogwarts. sure he was irritating and annoying sometimes but his charms made people fall to their knees.

there was a rumor once that a third year was so in love with him they tried to spike his butterbeer, but fred caught on early enough and fed it to ron.

they then had to go to the hospital wing that day which was coincidentally where you and fred met.

madam pompey wasn’t as mad at them as she was at you that day though.

you had just beaten up marcus flint for “accidentally” spilling porridge all over you. the only reason he even did that was because a week prior to the porridge incident, you had left hair removal in his shampoo and now he looked like the mix of voldemort and big bird had a child.

can’t say he didn’t have it coming.

—

when fred heard of your prank, he knew he needed to meet you immediately. the one thing he knew how to do was prank people more horrid than pumpkin candy.

“the ever-popular y/n, tell me your secrets.” fred teased.

“what secrets?” you countered, folding your arms.

fred had you cornered outside the hospital wing but you swore you had never felt as comfortable as now.

maybe it was his looming presence or the warmth of your now bloody jacket, but everything in that moment felt comforting.

“how did your hands land on hair-removing shampoo? and how did it end up in flint’s bathroom? so many questions and none answered.” he said with a curious tone.

“well maybe if you let me talk first i could answer them.”

fred smirked, for some reason your witty response made his heart flip more times than it did during quidditch games.

“i got the bottle from my cousin in the americas, and i convinced one of flint’s friends to exchange the shampoos without marcus noticing. well of course i had to provide payment by agreeing to do his homework for potions but it was so worth it.” you explained, and fred could see the glint in your eyes.

“well done, if it was up to me i would’ve exchanged his body soap for rocks.”

“quite a sadist, aren’t you fred weasley?” you teased.

“not sure what you’re getting at y/n y/l/n. i only enjoy the occasional bloody prank, nothing sadistic about that.”

“Y/N Y/L/N! when I find you you’ll be sporting your own bruises!” marcus flint exclaimed from inside the hospital wing as his friends attempted to take the mirror out of his hands.

“guess he doesn’t like the look of purple and bald on him.” you shrugged with a smirk.

you assumed fred would’ve laughed along but he was looking quite grim.

it was then that you noticed his stiff body and arms fisted on his side.

“fred, what’s wrong?”

“he shouldn’t be talking to you like that. especially if he’s threatening you y/n.” fred said with anger in his eyes.

“calm down. nothing i’m not used to as an aftermath of another prank.” you tried to reason, “it is my fault that he’s in there looking like lord voldemort.”

fred cracked out a smile at that comment before letting his anger dissipate away.

“it’s still not okay. when he gets out of here another prank is coming his way.” fred muttered the last bit to himself but realized that you could hear him as he looked down at you with a smirk.

a smirk that made your knees weak.

a smirk that would stay in your mind for weeks to come.

—

after that conversation, fred weasley had appeared in your life more times than in the past.

the routes you had taken before were now included with a red headed jokester who always smiled brightly at you in passing.

the rumors you heard about all the pranks happening to marcus flint were created by none other than fred.

you found that out on a fateful day marcus flint almost ran into you with pink robes on. he had fred, george, and a bunch of first years tailing after him as they laughed.

fred threw you a wink when he noticed you were watching with shock on your face.

the way your body reacted to his wink made you realize you might just have a crush on fred weasley.

—

putting ur chin on his chest and making eye contact with him, you smiled up at fred.

“something on your mind, love?” fred asked as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

“nothing much. just thinking about how we first met.”

“oh yeah, remind me again. was it with marcus flint’s bald head or when you obsessively started stalking me.” he teased you.

“i did not stalk you fred weasley!” you protested with a grin.

“easily could’ve. but there was no reason to, i was hooked from the moment i laid eyes on you outside of that hospital wing.”

when he said sweet things like that, it was hard for you not to fall in love with him all over again.

fred weasley was ultimately the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

-chrissy!!!

[simpurnatural]

"Flustered" || Short-Fiction

XO, Kitty - Min Ho Moon x Fem!Reader

Note from Nat: "Back to back Min Ho fics??? Didn't expect to get so much positive feedback. Thanks for going easy on ya girl, I'm still a bit rusty! Enjoy and make sure to wipe that drool off your face babe!"

Warning(s): Spoilers for "XO, Kitty" seasons 1 & 2, A little bit of Smut, Language, Sorta Proofread

As the fall semester came to an end, with everyone not wanting to part ways even for a just a month, Min Ho decides to invite the entire friend group for a winter getaway.

“Where’s Y/n?” Asked Dae which made everyone’s heads turn before the sound of snow crunching was heard.

You approached the group that was currently enjoying the hot tub, arms crossed to keep your robe shut. Min Ho suggested that the hot tub would be best way to relax after a day of travelling

“Hi! Sorry I’m late to the party,” you smiled whilst kicking off your slippers, then sliding your robe off your shoulders.

“Hot damn girl,” Q said, overcame with astonishment. "Drop the workout routine asap please," he joked as everyone's eyes lingered on your figure.

“Oh stop it,” you laughed and rolled your eyes. “This old thing isn’t worth the hype,” you insisted, but everyone would’ve begged to differ.

The navy blue two piece you were sporting hugged all the right places. Your ass and tits looked like they needed saving. The sight was definitely giving body tea.

Everyone watched as you made your descent into the tub and sat in between Kitty and Min Ho. Kitty had given you a small wave whereas Min Ho could barely make eye contact. Various conversations continued but Min Ho remained in an unlike-him-silence.

He wondered how he had not noticed how hot you looked until now. Not saying that looks are everything, but Min Ho felt stuck on how he never gave you a second glance.

"-Right Min Ho?" Dae asks, turning to his best friend who was clearly zoning out.

"Sorry what?" Min Ho replied, snapping out of his trance.

"We're gonna be able to go skiing first thing tomorrow, right?" Dae reiterated, a slight tiredness in his voice due to Min Ho's lack of contribution to the conversation.

"Of course," Min Ho nodded before his gaze back on you, who was too busy chatting with Yuri and Kitty to realizing anything else.

"Woah okay, this is new," Q teased, as his eyes followed Min Ho's. "The bikini has got your eyes lurkin'" he says, making Jin snicker at the observation.

"What are you guys talking about?" you ask with an unaware smile on your lips, Min Ho's eyes instantly looking down.

"Min Ho here seems to have-" Q began.

"Shut it," Min Ho tsked before moving to leave the hot tub.

"Hey, we were just joking," Jin called out as Min Ho shuffled back into the house.

"What was that about?" Yuri questioned, all conversations now put on pause.

"Is Min Ho okay?" Kitty asked, looking to the other boys occupying the hot tub.

"He's just a little flustered," Dae replied, the feeling of worry instantly overcame you.

"Did I do something?" you say wide-eyed but to no response. "I'll go check on him," you say before making your way out of the tub and walking towards the house. "Min Ho?" your voice echoed throughout the home.

You noticed a light coming from inside the kitchen and chose to investigate. There stood Min Ho, chugging a bottle of water with his slim yet toned physique being illuminated by the refrigerator light. He began to cough up said water after realizing your presence.

"Bloody hell, you scared me," he coughed, covering his face with the inside of his elbow. "What is it Y/n?" he asks while shutting the fridge door.

"What's with you?" you quizzed, "Ever since I joined you guys outside, you've been quiet and when I tried to converse with you-you run back inside!" you add with a hint of frustration in your voice.

"It's not my fault-"

"-So it's mine? What did I do wrong?" you cut off, urgently wanting an answer as to why your friend was avoiding you.

"Y/n, it's because y-you literally look like t-that!" Min Ho exclaimed as if it were common knowledge. "How else is a guy supposed to act when you decide walk around wearing something like that?" he questioned.

"Is what I have on not okay? Was there something in my hair?" you blabbered in response, instantly being overcame with the self-conscious feeling.

"It's fact that when I saw you earlier, I wish you didn't have anything on" Min Ho muttered in an almost whisper like volume.

The realization finally hit you, Min Ho had been eyeing you since you stepped into the hot tub. You face flushed a bright red, clearly flattered by the words that just came out of his mouth.

"So what you're saying is-"

"What I'm saying is that you look almost too good," Min Ho said, his voice deep and eyes darkened like a lion about to pounce on his next prey.

The small distance between the two of you shut in almost an instant, his hand cupped the side of your face gently. You could've sworn that the beat of your heart could be heard from miles away.

Your lack of response gave Min Ho time to lift you up and place you on the kitchen counter. Accidentally, you let out a small whimper at the feeling of the cold tile touching your skin. Min Ho felt as if he could've finished off that noise alone.

Standing between your legs, Min Ho's hands traveled all the way back down to your ass. You watched his eyes really take in your body, as if he could drink you up like a glass of water.

"Tell me to stop, and I will" Min Ho whispered as he gave your plump skin a squeeze.

Leaning in with your lips close to his ear, finally you replied, "I don't think I want you to stop".

Min Ho took this as his green light and you felt as his hands unclasped your bikini top. Grabbing the piece of clothing, he tossed away fand his eyes settled on your breast.

Biting his lip, Min Ho took one of each into his hands. "Beautiful. You are so beautiful Y/n," he said with is his accent thick, almost like he was about to melt at the sight of you.

You gasped at the feeling of his breath on your tits, causing a domino effect of butterflies and goosebumps to cover you. Min Ho chuckled at this, rubbing your nipples with his thumb in a circular motion.

Eyes closed; you threw your head back at the sensation before feeling something foreign come in contact with your breast. Min Ho's tongue began exploring your chest. It was as if he was trying to paint a picture.

His grasp on your tits became slightly more secure as he was egged on by your moans. He was marking his territory all over you with bright red hickeys.

Your half assed attempt to stifle your moans was with the palm of your hand. Min Ho however loved how loud you were getting for him and yanked your hand away from your face.

"I want to hear you," he insisted, pulling his lips away from your chest for a mere moment. "I want to hear you all night," he smirked, leaning in for a kiss.

"Uh guys?" a voiced that belonged to Yuri called out. "Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice trailing off into the hallway probably in search of you both.

Min Ho looked down with a smile on his face before getting your swim top from the ground. You quickly put it back on then pulled your hair to the front to cover the marks Min Ho left behind.

"W-we're here Yuri!" you replied hopping off the counter and walking out of the kitchen with Min Ho right behind you.

As Yuri came walking back towards you guys, her head tilted to the side in confusion, "What were you guys doing over there in the dark?"

"Just got some water," Min Ho replied, which seemingly convinced Yuri enough for her to walk back outside. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered in your ear, giving your ass a slap.

JAN 2025

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life. 

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not. 

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really. 

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit. 

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o’, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away. 

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him. 

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.” 

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start. 

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter. 

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple. 

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year. 

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer. 

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore. 

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer. 

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach. 

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.”

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take. 

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change. 

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards. 

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina. 

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time. 

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…”

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately. 

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call. 

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him. 

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it. 

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier. 

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour. 

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he’s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child. 

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Awkward Tales - Vignette 1: The Nervous Flirt

When the Great Shift hit the world, everyone was thrown into chaos. However, eventually society resettled into a new and more accepting form. At some point everyone would have to get used to their new bodies… right?

Well for a few individuals out there, after the great shift, they still were… adjusting. No matter how much time happened, some were cursed with an awkward new perspective in life. 

Maxwell, was nervous. More nervous than usual! Before the great shift, he had recently come out as gay to his close friends and family! While, they were all super accepting and happy for him, that didn’t solve his issues… talking to people he liked! No matter how many times he tried, he would turn into a stuttering mess whenever a hot guy was in the vicinity. He was lucky enough that his small unassuming frame meant no one could see his failures.

When the great shift happened, he thought things might be different.  New body! New me! That was the mantra he’d heard many people say as he had browsed forums and self help spaces. Turns out many people just needed a new body to reorient their social skills and  come out of their shell! At first Maxwell thought he’d be one of them!

He knew that he was a lot stronger in this body. He still wore his glasses, but these arms were no joke. Plus he didn’t have any skin issues anymore and he finally had some decent facial hair to work with! It all seemed to add up to something of a turning point for his life. 

That wasn’t the case.

Turns out a new body came with the same issues PLUS a few new ones too. Maxwell couldn’t form a straight sentence around hot guys, even newly hot guys who had never been hit on before! Even if Maxwell was just as handsome and good looking, his words fell apart at the slightest bit of attraction. Not only that, but his pool of attraction doubled. Apparently the guy he’d become was bisexual and loved flirting with men and women! So now not only did hot men make his speech a mess, but beautiful ladies did as well! A single hot woman could ruin his night if she asked for directions! A studly man asking if he wanted a drink would have him run out of the bar! No matter what seemed to happen, Maxwell was still an awkward dork.

Going from 5’5 to 6’2 didn’t help either. Now everyone could see this towering confident stud look like a complete fool! And his quick escapes were a thing of the past since every time he tried to run away he’d trip over his large size 15 feet. The last time he tried to flee from a failed flirt he knocked over two waiters and spilled 3 drinks over the person he was talking to. He needed some help. 

His friends did their best to console him, but even they had difficulty finding a clear solution. 

“Come on dude, you’ve got to stop biting your nails!” Beth, his best friend since college said after another night of failed flirting.

“I’m sorry Beth!” Maxwell whined in his new voice. Previously that expression was met with more nasally tones, but now even his wines made such flirtatious sounds when it came out of his new deep voice. “I just can’t stop thinking about that couple that asked if I wanted to join them tonight. The guy was soooo hot! He was like some kind of bodybuilder! And the girl! She could’ve been a super model. And i just froze and ran away!”

“It’s ok. I know that you want to pursue a relationship post shift. There’s no shame in striking out. Lots of people are having a hard time finding love.” Beth chimed in trying to comfort her friend.

“Easy for you to say. You and your fiance got Chris Evans and Chris Hemsworth’s bodies! And you’re still together!” Maxwell complained, burying his head in his pillow, still shirtless and showing off his impressive arms.

“I… I admit. We did get lucky. I know all our friends love Marvel, and my fiance and I are mega nerds… and the role play in the bedroom is fun and-”

“Beth!”

“Sorry! I just mean, that nothing is hopeless.  You’ll find what you’re looking for soon. And hey, if it helps you can try flirting with me and Erin tonight.” Beth offered.

Maxwell blushed… and then slowly nodded. Maybe flirting with two of his biggest celebrity crushes would solve his issue after all.

[mrsfancyferrari]

My Saviour

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

Song: Pyramids - Frank Ocean

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

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

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

Word count: 27.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max stiffened beside you. “And?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A small smile played on your lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You took a deep breath. "Why?"

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

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

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

"Yes, I know. But why aren’t you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nodded, a blush still coloring his cheeks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt his body tense, then slowly relax.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The very same.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your cheeks flushed. “You’re sweet.”

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

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

He laughed. “A fluffy, clingy bear.”

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

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

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

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

And you couldn't wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He grins, relieved. “Okay, good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You settled on a careful, albeit vague response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He knew that would get to Christian and it did.

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

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

"Just stating the obvious," Toto simply replied, giving a small shrug. It was a blatant attempt to unsettle him, to make him doubt his own decision. And it was working.

“You’re forgetting there’s another driver in Mercedes,” Christian retorted, forcing a chuckle, “are you ready to throw your champion out?”

“He will be back, do not worry, just like you’re going to stick with Perez next year,” Toto said, his tone oozing with a false sympathy. “Let me tell you, you will regret not having Y/N, that girl will be a champion one day.”

He looked straight at Christian. “When she wins, don’t come crawling back to us to get her.”

"Who said I'm letting her go? She's already a big part of Red Bull's family and it's going to take a lot for her to go away," Christian said, his voice now raised.

Toto smiled at him. “Excuses, excuses. I’ll make sure to add you to my speech of how you helped her at the start,” he said with a sly smile.

Christian gave the mic to a staff member before leaving with Y/N. They walked in comfortable silence, the noise of the paddock fading away with each step.

She knew Christian was waiting for her to say something, to make a decision, but she wanted to process everything in her own space, away from the prying eyes and endless negotiations.

As they entered his office, a space that reflected his organized yet focused persona, Y/N finally broke the silence.

“An hour, Christian?” she said, her voice still carrying a hint of amusement. “Really? You couldn’t have wrapped it up in 30 minutes?”

Christian chuckled, leaning back against his desk. “I was enjoying baiting Toto. You have to admit, he takes the bait every single time.”

“I think you both enjoyed it far too much,” Y/N retorted. “You know that whole scene is a performance, right?”

“Of course it is,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, “But it’s an important performance. We need to show the world why Red Bull is the best option.”

“And what about what I want?” she asked. “Is that considered?”

Y/N didn't hesitate. The words were out before she could even fully form them in her mind. "I want to stay in Red Bull," she stated, the statement ringing with conviction.

There was no room for doubt or second-guessing. Despite the allure of Mercedes and the challenge of a new environment, her heart was firmly rooted here.

Christian raised an eyebrow, a small smile returning to his lips, a mixture of surprise and relief flashing through his features. “Are you sure?” he asked, the question almost rhetorical.

“Yep,” she replied, her voice firm, a genuine smile finally breaking through her earlier tension. The relief was palpable, washing over her in a warm wave. A decision, finally, made.

Christian nodded, a satisfied expression settling on his face. “Okay, I'll see what I can do. You will know by the end of this week,” he said, his tone indicating the discussion was over and he was moving onto the next item on his never-ending list of tasks.

He settled back into his chair, turning his attention to the paperwork strewn across his desk.

You lingered for a moment, your mind buzzing. You had spoken your truth, laid your cards on the table. Now, it was a waiting game.

You made your way out of the office, heading back to the garage.

Max was there, his engineer deep in discussion with him, the usual debrief in full swing. He caught sight of you and gave you a quick, almost imperceptible nod, a subtle change in his expression indicating he knew something was up.

You two might be discreet in public, but you had an understanding, a silent language spoken between two people who shared so much, not just a team, but a life.

Later, back at your hotel room, after both had showered and changed, you finally found the words to break the silence that had settled between you.

"I spoke to Christian," you said, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Max as he paced in front of the window.

He turned, his blue eyes meeting hers, a flicker of something akin to anxiety in your depths.

"And?" he asked, the single word laden with questions.

"I told him I want to stay," you stated simply, watching his reaction carefully.

The tension that had been coiled within him seemed to unwind, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. A small smile played on his lips as he walked over and sat next to you.

"Good," he whispered, taking you hand in his.

"Good?" you echoed, tilting your head, your eyebrow arched in amusement. "That's it?"

Max chuckled, squeezing your hand. “What else is there to say? I’m glad,” he admitted, his voice softer now. “I want you here.”

"I know," you replied, your own smile widening.

"This whole thing has been... annoying," Max admitted, his usual confident swagger replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "It's not like you're not good, you're amazing, I don't want you to leave, but I also don't want you to feel like you have to stay. It has to be your choice, not because of me."

You understood. He had been walking a tightrope, wanting you to stay, desperately, but also knowing it had to be you decision, not influenced by your relationship or the pressure of the team.

“I know, Max,” you said, squeezing his hand back. “It’s my choice. And I choose to be here.”

"Then that's all that matters," he replied, pulling you into a hug, burying his face in your hair.

You stayed like that for a while, the silence comfortable, a shared understanding passing between you two. You were both drivers, both driven, but together, you were something more. . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The roar of the crowd is a physical force, vibrating through your bones, through the very air you breathe. It's a familiar sensation, one you've learned to both crave and ignore. Today, though, it feels different.

More…intense. This isn't just another qualifying session; this is it. The final showdown, the battle for pole position. You're in the cockpit, strapped in, the familiar scent of fuel and hot rubber filling your senses.

Your hands grip the wheel, knuckles white, the leather warm against your skin. This is your domain. You are one with the machine, a perfect symbiosis of human and engineering.

Your eyes flick to the timing screen. Okay, you’re P2 heading into this final run. Your teammate is some distance back. Max's name glares at you from the top spot, a bright, taunting beacon. A smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

He's fast, no doubt about that, the fastest today in fact – but you're not about to let him take it without a fight, especially not when you know you have the pace.

Especially when you want to make him work for it.

You take a deep breath, the tension in your chest a knot you need to unravel. ‘Ok y/n just focus,’ Joseph, a calm voice amidst the chaos, crackles over your headset. ‘Tyres are warmed, engine temp okay. Let’s go show them.’

You acknowledge with a nod, although he can't see it, and grip the wheel tighter. The green light snaps on, and you’re away, the car launching forward with a brutal, exhilarating surge of power.

The first corner is a dance of precision, every input deliberate, every movement calculated. You apex perfectly, feeling the tyres bite into the asphalt. The G-force presses you into your seat, a heavy hand forcing you to stay locked in.

You’ve been working hard to perfect that corner all weekend. This is your track, you know every bump, every camber change. You’ve poured every ounce of your energy into this run.

You shift up through the gears, the engine screaming behind you like a furious beast. You throw the car into the next chicane, the tyres protesting with a high-pitched squeal, but you're in control, a masterful conductor of speed and precision.

The car feels alive beneath you, surging forward in a symphony of mechanics.

You push, and push harder, daring to go right to the limit, every inch, every hundredth of a second, matters now. You see the sector times flashing on your steering wheel. Purple. Purple. Purple.

A surge of adrenaline floods your veins, a heady mix of excitement and focus. You’re on a flyer, everything is falling perfectly into place.

You navigate through the hairpin, the car teetering on the edge, the slightest misstep and you could be in the wall. You dance with the car, balancing it on a knife's edge. And you nail it.

As you accelerate out, your eyes flick to the timing screen again. You're on course, right there, on pace with Max. The final sector is your strength, the fast, flowing curves where the car is allowed to breathe.

You push the car to its absolute limit as you begin to glide through the section, each corner a blur of colour and speed. You flow through the corners effortlessly.

You power out of the final corner, pushing the pedal to the floor, the engine roaring in protest. You feel the car give its all, vibrating as if it could explode under the pressure. You shoot across the finish line, the car shuddering to a stop.

The pit wall explodes in chatter. Your engineer's voice rings loud in your ears. ‘Y/N, that was incredible!’.

And it was. You can feel it.

You take a deep breath, hands still gripping the wheel, waiting for your final time to register. It appears on your steering wheel. Your jaw drops. You've done it! But then… your heart sinks a little.

You’re in second. Max has gone faster. By just a fraction.

You plastered a fake smile on your face, attempting to engage with the journalists.

You answered their questions with practiced ease, praising the team, thanking the sponsors, and saying you tried your best, before rushing into the Red Bull building, desperate to escape.

After your debriefing, you retreated to your drivers’ room, locking the door behind you. 

You didn’t want to see anyone, especially not Max. You felt like a failure. You thought that, today, you would beat him in qualifying, and it was just not happening, no matter what you do. 

A soft knock echoed through the room, and instinctively, you knew who was on the other side. “Y/N?” Max’s voice filtered through the door, a gentle rumble that was usually enough to make your heart flutter. 

Now, it just felt like another layer of pressure. He knew you too well. 

“Go away, Max,” you called out, your voice surprisingly rough. 

You didn’t want to talk, not right now. Especially to him. Not in this state. 

“No,” he replied simply. That was the thing about Max. Once he wanted something, or to talk to someone, he was persistent. 

Usually, you loved him for that. Today, however, it just made you feel more irritated. 

“Please, just leave me alone,” you said, your voice laced with that irritation. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.” He knocked again; this time, the sound had a gentleness to it, almost pleading. “I just want to talk to you.” 

You sighed, leaning your head back against the door. “What is there to talk about, Max? You won, I lost. Again. You’re better than me, end of story.” The words were sharp, laced with the bitterness of disappointment. 

A moment of silence passed before Max spoke again, “That’s not true, and you know it. Qualifying is just one part of the weekend. I know you pushed. I could see it.” 

You scoffed softly to yourself, “Oh really? Could you ‘see it’ from pole position?” 

“Don’t be like that, Y/N. I know you’re upset, but I’m not trying to rub it in. I’m here because I care about you.” He let out an audible sigh and you heard him lean against the door. “Can we just talk?” 

You knew you should just open the door, you wanted to open the door. He was your boyfriend after all, even if it was a secret to the rest of the paddock. 

But that just made it worse. You knew that you could be vulnerable with him, but the constant competition and him being better was just eating you alive. 

“No, Max. I don’t want to talk.” You could hear the plea in your own voice. 

“So you’re going to stay locked in there? You need to get some rest, we have the race tomorrow,” he said with a sigh. You could hear the worry in his voice. 

“I will. Just not now.” 

“Fine.” His voice was low now, defeated. “But I’m not going far. If you need anything, I’ll be here.” 

You heard his footsteps walk away, and you felt a pang of guilt with his tone and words. You didn’t want to hurt him or make him feel as if he was the reason you were upset. He was the one of the reasons you were okay. 

You sighed once more and got up to open the door. You knew that if you let this linger, it will keep eating at you, and with the race tomorrow, you wanted to feel better. 

You softly opened the door and his eyes met yours instantly. He hadn’t gone far after all. Standing there in his racing suit, and his hair slightly messed up, he looked more handsome than ever. 

You knew, deep down as you looked at him, that even though the competition was difficult, what you had with him was worth it. 

“Hey.” You said softly, and in an instance, he had stepped between the doorway and pulled you into a hug. 

“Hey,” he whispered back, his face buried into your hair. “I’m sorry you feel this way. You were amazing today.” He pulled back slightly to look at you straight, his blue eyes concerned. “And I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” 

You shook your head gently and snuggled into his chest again, “I know, Its just… I wanted to beat you today.” 

He let out a soft chuckle and pulled you into the room, shutting the door behind you. “I know that too.” 

“It’s just… this competition… it’s relentless,” you admitted, finally letting your guard down.  

He held you tighter and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. “I know. But you have to remember why you do it.” 

You shrugged. “I don’t even know anymore. Maybe I’m just not good enough.” 

He quickly pulled back and raised his eyebrow. “Don’t you ever say that. You’re incredibly talented, Y/N. The best in the paddock. Even better than me.” He smiled gently at you. “We both know I just got lucky today.” 

You looked up at him, not believing his words. He knew you well and he knew that you always doubted yourself. “Sure.” You said, rolling your eyes jokingly. 

“I’m serious, you know? You have so much potential. And to be honest, I love the competition with you. It makes me better.” He took your hands and looked at you dead in the eye. “And you will beat me one day. I know it.” 

You smiled, feeling the tension ease away. “You really think so?” 

“I do.” He grinned and squeezed your hands. “Now, how about we get some food and just relax before the race tomorrow?” 

A smile spread across your face. “I like the idea.” 

He kissed you softly, and you forgot, for a brief moment, the pressure of the competition, the frustration of losing. All that faded away with the touch of his lips.

As you pulled away, you knew, deep down, that as much as you desired to be on the top step, the most important thing was what you had with Max and that was something more special than winning. 

You would never give that up. And you knew, as you looked into his eyes, that you would indeed beat him one day.

But until then, you were happy to just try. Together. 

You followed Max out of your room, towards your shared space, and you knew, that as long as he was by your side, you could face anything. Your competition, with him and against the rest of the grid, would push you. 

But your love for Max would make you stronger. . . .  

The roar of the crowd is a distant hum, a low thrumming against the frantic rhythm of your pulse. You grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, the leather slick against your palms.

The air in the cockpit is thick with anticipation, the scent of burning rubber and high-octane fuel a heady, almost intoxicating mix. The red lights above the start line blaze, each one a hammer blow against your already strained nerves.

You’re acutely aware of the weight of the moment - the last race of the season, the last race of your career if you don't pull this off.

“Lights out and away we go!” David Croft's voice explodes through your headset, a sudden, almost jarring jolt. You react instinctively, your foot slamming down on the accelerator, the car lunging forward like a caged beast freed.

The world becomes a blur of color and motion. You’re in second, to your left, is the crimson and navy blur of his car. Max.

The first few laps are a brutal ballet of speed and precision. You weave through the pack, battling for position, your heart pounding against your ribs. There's a crash behind you, the sickening sound of tearing metal and screeching tires.

The safety car is deployed, bunching the cars together, a brief lull in the chaos. You exhale deep, trying to calm the storm raging inside you.

The safety car pulls in, and the green flag flies again. The race explodes back into life. Max accelerates, pulling away slightly. Your eyes narrow. You’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.

This isn't just about the race anymore; it's about proving something to yourself, to everyone who ever doubted you. And maybe, just maybe, to him.

You push your car, inching closer, taking every corner with calculated risk. You can feel the heat radiating from your engine, the vibrations of the tires screaming against the asphalt.

You’re glued to Max’s rear wing, calculating every move, searching for an opening, a single mistake that might give you the edge.

The laps tick by, each one a grueling test of your skill, your endurance, your will. You’re breathing hard, sweat stinging your eyes, your muscles aching.

You’re pushing yourself beyond the limit, chasing the tail of his Red Bull, the finish line growing closer with every agonizing lap.

You see an opportunity on the next corner, the perfect turn, the perfect braking point, the perfect chance. It’s a risky move, one that could easily send you spinning into the wall if you miscalculate.

But you have to try. This is it.

You lock your brakes, your tires screaming in protest, and cut to his inside, your car lunging forward. Your heart is in your throat, the world narrowing to the car in front of you and the sliver of asphalt you're now occupying.

You’re neck-and-neck, your wheels inches apart, the air thick with the tension.

There's a moment of pure, raw speed, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You are pushing yourself and your car to the max. This is it; the final corner, in the final lap, of the race, before the end of your career

You hear Joseph’s voice, sharp and urgent, “Y/N, be careful!” He knows the risk you’re taking.

You don’t reply, your focus laser-sharp. You keep your foot on the gas, your knuckles white as bone, and then, you do it. You’re ahead, the nose of your car inches into first place, the finish line a blur of colors and emotions.

You cross the line, the world exploding in cheers and the deafening roar of the crowd. You’ve done it. You've won.

Your mind struggles to catch up. You barely register the immense relief that washes over you, the adrenaline still flooding your body. You glance to your right and through the fence you see a sign being held aloft.

Your team.

And it reads, just as you hoped, ‘Y/N P1, Max P2, and Constructors' Champions.’ The confirmation you’ve been longing for, the culmination of a season of dedication and teamwork.

You pull into the pit lane, your heart pounding, your hands shaking. As you unbuckle your helmet, you can barely believe what you’ve just accomplished. You and Max were the champions. You’ve won it.

You run, not walk, to the pit wall, your team is already celebrating. Christian stands proudly in front of the crowd, and as you reach him, his face breaks into a fatherly grin.

You embrace him tightly, a hug that holds more than just victory—it’s a lifetime of shared dreams and unwavering support.

"You did it, kid," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "You absolutely did it."

You pull back, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. “We did it, Christian,” you correct, “All of us.”

He chuckles, a warm, rumbling sound. “Aye, we did. You just went and made sure of it, didn't you?"

The crowd is chanting your name now, a rhythmic wave of sound that washes over you. You want to soak it all in, every single second of it.

As the celebrations continue, you scan the crowd, your eyes searching for a familiar face. Max.

Max approaches you, his eyes wide with a mix of admiration and disbelief. He pulls you into a tight hug, his body trembling against yours.

“You were incredible,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Absolutely incredible.”

"It was a wild one," you say, still catching your breath. He pulls away slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, his eyes searching yours.

“You scared me, Y/N. That move was…insane.” There's a mixture of concern and affection in his expression.

“I had to,” you say, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips. “I wasn’t going to let you get away with it.”

“I know,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You never do.” He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours, the tension suddenly building between you in this very public space.

The air crackles with unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that draws you closer. The roar of the crowd recedes further, replaced by the roaring in your own ears. You want to kiss him so badly, to taste the victory on his lips and share this moment of triumph.

But you know, with a sharp pang of reality, that thousands of cameras are trained on you. The world is watching. Your private romance is anything but.

As if on cue, the team swarms around you, a joyous cacophony of cheers and backslaps.

They engulf you and Max, creating a human shield, obscuring you from prying eyes. It’s a coordinated effort, a protective circle forming around you two.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” they chant, their voices a chorus of encouragement. The sudden change is disorienting, the privacy you had for a moment now replaced with raucous enthusiasm.

Your heart hammers in your chest, a mixture of nerves and excitement flaring through you. You glance at Max, who is looking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He raises an eyebrow, a silent question passing between you.

You take a deep breath, knowing he reads your every expression. The world might be watching, but the only opinion that matters right now is Max’s. You nod once, a small, decisive motion.

With a grin that could light up the entire paddock, he leans back in for what feels like the longest kiss of your life. There is no hesitation, no reservation as your lips finally meet. It tastes of victory and relief, the culmination of weeks of tension and pressure.

His hands move from your face to clutch the back of your neck, as if to pull you deeper. The kiss is everything you imagined, fierce and tender, a perfect blend.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless. The team is in uproar, cheering as if you’ve just won another race.

He nuzzles his face within the crook of your neck, his voice a low murmur, "Well, that was something."

You giggle, the tension finally starting to ease out of your body, "I think we just gave them a show."

"They've been wanting it for a while though," You can hear the grin in his voice.

The team started to separate, a sign that the interviewers would be waiting for you both. You subtly pulled away from Max, the silent agreement to continue with the charade still in place.

Nobody could know, not yet anyway. Max headed off first, giving you a small wink before disappearing into the waiting crowd. You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips.

He was such a tease.

Your time came soon after, you took a deep breath and smoothed down your fire suit and walked out into the fray.

The cameras flashed, the voices of the interviewers assaulted you, but you kept your smile plastered and your answers as vague as you could manage.

The interviewer, a woman with a microphone the size of your fist, was already beside you, her bright smile a stark contrast to the sweat clinging to your brow.

"Absolutely incredible race, you just won the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix," she began, her tone a blend of excitement and professional poise. "How does it feel to finish the season with such a monumental victory?"

You managed a grin, the corners of your mouth stretching tight with the effort. "Honestly," you breathed, your voice still raspy from exertion, "it feels incredible. It's been a short season for me yet a tough season, and to end it like this… it's just… wow."

“You seemed to really pull it through in the last part of the race, what was going through your mind when your closest competitor was right behind you?” she asked.

“I was just trying to stay focused, that’s all.” You responded, smiling.

The questions kept coming, but you were well versed in keeping the conversation on the racing and not on you.

You knew you couldn't slip, not out here, not yet.

"So has there been an official talk about next year? Will you be replacing Perez, or going to a different team?" the interviewer asked, a knowing grin plastered across his face.

You were waiting for this one, the inevitable question that skirted the edge of your secret.

"Yeah, there has been, but I'd rather not say until the announcement is made. Red Bull is my family after all," you stated, your tone light, casual, but your inner voice was screaming.

The truth was more intricate, more nuanced, than any simple team transfer. Your future wasn't just about a car or a team; it was inextricably linked to a man.

The interview moved on, finally deeming you squeezed dry of any revealing information.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you make your way to the cool down room. It's a sanctuary, a place where the pressure of the race can begin to dissipate before the long night of media duties and debriefing.

The door slides open, revealing Max and Charles already settled on the plush sofas, their eyes glued to the monitor on the wall. The race replay is unfolding, a ghost of the events that just transpired.

"There you are," Charles says, tilting his head in acknowledgment as you enter. He offers a small, genuine smile, one that reaches his eyes. "Congratulations, you were absolute dynamite out there."

"Thank you," you reply, settling onto the empty sofa opposite them. Your gaze slides towards Max. He's watching the screen intently, his jaw clenched slightly, a telltale sign of the intensity that still lingers.

You know him so well. You see the pride swimming beneath the surface, the subtle tightening of his shoulders. It’s a different kind of pride than if you were someone he saw as a rival.

It’s the pride of someone who loves you.

"Insane drive,” Max finally says, turning his attention to you, a genuine grin spreading across his face. “You were untouchable.”

"Thanks,” you say, your heart doing a little flip-flop at the way he's looking at you, a mix of admiration and something deeper, something only you would recognize.

It’s a look that makes the exhaustion start to fade, the adrenaline beginning to settle into a warm comfortable thrum. “It wasn’t easy though.”

The replay on the screen has reached the crucial point in the race, where you made that daring overtake, the move that sealed your victory.

Re-watching it now, it still takes your breath away, the sheer audacity of it all.

"That move," Charles murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief, "I still can't believe you pulled that off."

"Calculated risk," you say, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"You’re sure it wasn’t just blind luck?” Charles laughs, and you roll your eyes playfully. “It really was amazing though, you were on fire all weekend."

"Maybe both," you say, turning serious for a moment, “I’ve been working real hard this whole season to be able to do those kind of moves.”

Max shifts his position slightly, leaning back on the couch. His eyes meet yours once more, and a silent understanding passes between you.

In that brief, unspoken moment, you feel a wash of comfort, a sense of belonging that comes from sharing a secret with someone you love.

The knowledge that he sees you, truly sees you, is almost a greater reward than the victory itself.

The room settles into a comfortable quiet as the race unfolds on the screen, the commentary filling the space. The tension from the track begins to release, replaced by a quiet camaraderie.

You steal glances at Max, the easy familiarity between you like a warm blanket on a cold night. It’s always like this when the two of you are around Charles.

You’re both relaxed, and while you are not displaying it, there is a clear feeling of warmth between you. It’s the kind of relaxed feeling that you’re sure Charles can’t help but notice.

"So," Charles says, breaking the silence, his gaze moving between you and Max, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Big celebrations tonight? Champagne showers?"

You laugh, a genuine laugh that echoes in the quiet room, "Probably, if the team has anything to say about it."

Max snorts, a sound of quiet amusement, "They usually do."

"I know what I'm going to do," Charles continues, his eyes twinkling, "I'm going to party until tomorrow."

"I could say the same," you said. “We’ve got celebrate the whole night."

The end of the race replay starts to come to a close, and Max shifts his attention from the screen to you, his lips twitching into a teasing smile.

"So, who’s going to make the drinks for the post-race party tonight? Surely the race winner has to."

"I'm sure there's someone more talented than me in that department," you say, your eyes meeting his challenge, a playful energy dancing between you. "I’m sure that you will do a better job."

“Oh I’m sure I will,” Max says, standing up and offering you his hand to help you to your feet, “but the champion needs to practice being a gracious host.”

You accept his hand and let him pull you up, a smile playing on your lips. Your touch sent a rush of excitement through your body, a silent signal that always passed between the two of you.

The walk to the podium felt like wading through a dream. The air crackled with energy, a symphony of cheers, whistles, and camera flashes. You saw the podium ahead, three steps waiting for their occupants.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, building the anticipation. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! For third place, representing Ferrari, please welcome Charles Leclerc!”

The crowd erupted as Charles, with his signature charming grin, stepped onto the lowest tier. He waved to the masses, his eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and good-natured defeat.

Then, it was Max’s turn. “In second place, representing Red Bull Racing, your champion, the one and only Max Verstappen!” The roar intensified, a wave of orange crashing through the air. Max, ever stoic, offered a small nod of acknowledgment before taking his place.

He caught your eye, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, and gave you a quick wink. Your heart skipped a beat.

Finally, the announcer's voice reached its crescendo, "And now, for the winner of the final race in first place… Y/N L/N!!" You could barely hear your name being yelled over the collective scream of joy.

You felt a surge of adrenaline, a second wind fueled by the sheer adoration of the crowd. You took a deep breath, a smile stretching across your face, and stepped onto the top step of the podium.

The bright lights felt hot against your skin, but you barely noticed. You raised your arms in victory, taking in the magnificent sight of thousands of people cheering for you. It truly was magic. The national anthem started and you felt a beautiful sense of pride fill your heart. 

The champagne bottles were popped, and the podium was engulfed in a spray of bubbly liquid. You laughed, brushing the droplets from your hair, your eyes meeting Max’s across the small space.

After what felt like an eternity, the podium celebrations came to an end. You were being ushered towards the press area when you felt a hand grasp your arm.

You turned to see Max, his eyes a mix of impatience and amusement.

“Meet me in my room later,” he whispered, his voice low.

You nodded, a warm sensation spreading through your chest. “I’ll be there,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

The rest of the evening was a blur of questions, flashing cameras, and polite smiles. You answered the questions with practiced ease, your mind drifting back to the quiet intensity in Max’s eyes.

The constant chatter of journalists faded into background noise as you yearned for the peace of your garage and the promise of Max’s company.

Finally, the interviews were over. You could feel the exhaustion pulling you down, but a surge of anticipation kept you moving. You quickly made your way back to the garage, the place where you felt most at peace when you weren’t on the racetrack.

You found the door slightly ajar and with a gentle push, you entered the dimly lit space.

He sat on the small, worn sofa, his head tilted back against the cushion, eyes closed. You paused just inside the doorway, watching him. He looked relaxed, the tension that always seemed to coil within him seemingly absent.

He looked, in that moment, utterly vulnerable.

You cleared your throat softly, and his eyes snapped open, focusing on you with an intensity that always managed to make your breath catch.

"You're here," he said, his voice a low murmur, a hint of relief coloring his words. He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners.

You walked towards him, the silence between you comfortable and intimate. You sat down beside him on the sofa, the worn leather yielding to your weight.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, content in the quiet intimacy of the space.

Then, Max reached out, his fingers brushing against your hand, sending another warm shiver through you. He laced his fingers with yours, the contact both grounding and electrifying.

“You were incredible out there today,” he said, his gaze locked on your eyes, his thumb stroking the back of your hand.

A flush of pleasure warmed your cheeks. "So were you," you countered, a smile playing on your lips. "You were pushing hard."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that always made your heart skip a beat. "Someone had to try and keep it interesting," he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful mischief. “But you stole the show, as usual.”

You glanced down at your interlocked hands, a surge of emotion flooding your chest. Despite the public persona, the competitive edge, there was a tenderness in him, a vulnerability that only you seemed to see.

It was a side of him that you cherished, that you protected fiercely.

He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear again, just like it had been before the interviews.

“I have to admit,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine, “I’m really glad you won today. It means I finally get you all to myself. No more cameras or journalists.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, the warmth spreading through your entire body. He could always make you feel this way, with just a few softly spoken words.

You leaned in closer, mirroring his movement. “You know, it’s funny,” you said, your voice barely a breath. “I thought I was coming here to celebrate the win. But all I really wanted, was just to be here with you.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “You mean that?” he asked softly, the playful teasing gone.

You nodded, the honesty in your heart plain for him to see. “Always.”

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer until your head was resting against his shoulder. The comfortable silence descended once more, this time even more intimate than before.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

A small, almost hesitant smile touched his lips, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a touch so tender it sent a jolt of warmth through you.

He kissed the top of your head, his touch feather-light, and a small contented sigh escaped your lips.

“God, I’ve missed this,” you murmured into his shoulder, the tension finally leaving your body.

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated against you. "Missed what?" he teased, his voice a smooth caress.

You pressed closer to him, nuzzling your face into the warmth of his neck. "This," you whispered, "just... this."

He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer until your head was resting against his shoulder. The comfortable silence descended once more, this time even more intimate than before.

You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, grounding you, reminding you that you were real, that this was real.

He pressed a small kiss to the top of your hair before shifting slightly, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

You could feel his shy smile curve against your neck as he peppered small kisses there, each one sending a fresh wave of warmth through you. You turned your head slightly, offering him more access to your damp skin.

The shyness in his touch was endearing, a stark contrast to the confident racer the world saw. It was this side of him, only for you, that made your heart swell.

"We're going to party so hard," Max muttered, his voice a low purr against your skin. "We deserve it."

You chuckled softly, the sound muffled against his neck. “We absolutely do," you agreed. "I think I can finally feel all the tension leaving my body. I was so nervous before the race, I was practically buzzing.”

The roar of the crowd was still a tangible thing, vibrating under your skin and making your heart thump like a hummingbird's wings. The confetti, a glittering storm of victory, tickled your face.

You held the trophy aloft, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of the moment, the weight a solid reassurance of the triumph you had just achieved.

"3.. 2.. 1..!" the team admin's voice boomed, cutting through the din. Then, the collective roar, a joyous, guttural yell that vibrated in your bones.

Champagne erupted, the sweet, sharp tang filling the air, soaking into your racing suit, adding another layer of sensation to the already overwhelming experience.

Max, standing beside you, mirrored your pose, his own trophy gleaming under the stadium lights. He caught your eye, a familiar warmth flickering in his gaze before he offered a wide, celebratory grin to the cameras.

You both knew the drill. Hold the trophies high, look ecstatic, spray the champagne, and be the perfect picture of sporting camaraderie.

The flash of cameras punctuated the moment, capturing the manufactured joy. Smiling until your cheeks ached, you followed Max’s lead, swigging from the bottle and spraying the effervescent liquid with abandon.

Later, the team announced the location for the after-party. Not the usual quiet bar, but a nightclub big enough to hold the entire grid. A place that promised a night of uninhibited celebration.

A genuine space for everyone to let loose.

As exciting as the prospect was, you found yourself craving a moment of quiet before the storm. You caught Max's eye across the throng, a silent understanding passing between you.

He offered a small, almost imperceptible nod, a promise of sanctuary. You both made your excuses to the team, promising to meet them at the club later.

The short drive back to the hotel was filled with a comfortable silence, the earlier adrenaline slowly giving way to a calm satisfaction. In your shared room, the relief was palpable.

You kicked off your shoes, your clothes feeling suddenly cumbersome.

"That was… something," you said, your voice husky.

Max chuckled, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “Something is an understatement. You were incredible.”

His eyes, so often serious and focused on the track, held a warmth that always made your stomach flip. “But yeah, shower?”

“Definitely shower,” you agreed, already peeling off your clothes.

The hot water was a balm to your tired muscles, washing away the grime and stress of the race. As you stood under the cascading water, you couldn't help but smile.

You’d won, you’d done it, and you had him, waiting for you on the other side.

When you finally emerged, a towel wrapped around you, Max was dressed, looking utterly devastating in a simple black top and trousers. His hair, still damp from his own shower, was styled just so.

And then, the detail that made your heart skip a beat - a silver chain nestled against his collarbone.

"Wow," you breathed, unable to stop staring. "The chain. You actually wore it."

He smirked, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. "After some serious persuasion," he admitted, a playful edge to his voice. "You look good, too," he added, his gaze lingering on you.

"I figured it was only fair," you said, heading to your suitcase and pulling out an identical black dress, pairing it with tailored black heels.

Max watched you as you changed, a silent appreciation in his gaze that made you blush. Getting dressed was always easier when he was in front of you, admiring you openly.

You had fallen for him hard, and the private world you shared, hidden from the prying eyes of the racing world, made your love feel all the more precious.

Downstairs, Max's car was already waiting. The short drive to the club was filled with a sweet anticipation. The bass from the music vibrated through the car, a promise of the chaos to come, but also a reminder of the secret you both shared.

The nightclub was even more enormous than you’d imagined, pulsating with strobe lights and the throb of electronic music. The air crackled with energy as drivers, team personnel, and their plus-ones mingled on the dance floor.

You spotted your friends already in the thick of the party, their faces flushed with excitement.

Max took your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur against the noise of the club.

You squeezed his hand. "As I'll ever be," you said, a thrill coursing through you.

The night unravelled in a blur of music, laughter, and celebration. You danced with your teammates, you toasted with the other drivers, but always, your eyes sought out Max.

His presence was a constant anchor amidst the chaos. You occasionally met his gaze, a shared smile, a silent communication that spoke volumes.

You were laughing at something Sarah had said, her arm slung on your arm, when suddenly you felt a familiar heat against your back.

Max’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The soft press of his chest against your back sent a jolt through you, a spark that had nothing to do with the strobe lights.

“You know you can drink as much as you want, it’s your party and I’m driving,” he murmured into your ear, his breath sending a delightful shiver down your spine.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips. “Are you sure you can handle me?” you teased, turning to face him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief under the club lights. “I’m pretty sure I can handle anything you throw at me.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “Especially a race winner who’s celebrating a season well-won.”

You could feel your cheeks flush. Even after months of stolen moments, his gaze still had the ability to make your heart race.

You leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his arms around you as he talked to some people from his team. You knew he was the leader, the one everyone looked to.

He was charismatic, a natural in front of the camera, but here, in the soft light of this lounge, you saw a different man.

A man who was quieter, more thoughtful, more…yours.

"Hey, you," a voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see Sarah, her bright pink dress a stark contrast to Max’s dark suit.

She was already holding a bottle of champagne, and you knew that look in her eyes – it was a look that promised a night of unadulterated fun. "You just made history! We need to celebrate properly."

You laughed, "Sarah, I think I've had enough champagne to last me a lifetime."

"Nonsense," she scoffed, already popping the cork. "Tonight, we drink like champions! And I have a feeling you're not going to be the only ones celebrating, there is a certain someone celebrating on the sidelines." She threw a playful glance at Max, who chuckled.

"Go on," Max murmured, leaning against the lounge’s velvet wall, "Have some fun. I'll be here." He winked, that flash of playful mischief again.

You knew he wasn't genuinely worried, he knew how close you and Sarah were. He also knew how much you deserved to let loose after the pressure of the season.

You allowed yourself to be pulled away by Sarah, laughing as she poured you another glass. "To the future legend," she declared, clinking her glass against yours. "And to finally kicking that season into the dust."

The rest of the night was a blur. You drank, you danced, you laughed until your sides ached. You and Sarah traded recent stories, some old, some new, some best left untold. You talked about the season, your favorite moments, the times you almost gave up.

Hours later, the room had thinned out. You were sitting on a plush velvet sofa, your head resting on Sarah's shoulder, both of you giggling over some ridiculous inside joke.

You were definitely drunk, your thoughts a little fuzzy, your speech a little slurred.

"You are the best," you mumbled, nuzzling closer to Sarah. "Best friend ever."

"And you are the best driver, ever," she replied, squeezing your hand. "You deserve all of this."

A shadow fell over you. You looked up and saw Max, his expression a mixture of amusement and mild concern. “Okay, ladies, I think it's time to wrap it up. You’ve both had enough excitement for one night."

You blinked up at him, your vision a little blurry. "But…but we were having fun," you protested, your words slurring.

He chuckled, kneeling down beside you. "I know, schat, but tomorrow is going to be a long day. Remember how bad your hangover gets?".

“Oh, right,” you mumbled.

"Come here," Max said softly, helping you to your feet. His touch was gentle, steady, a stark contrast to the chaos that had begun to swirl in your head.

Sarah was grinning, a knowing look in her eyes. "Alright, love birds," she teased, "I think I'm going to grab a taxi home. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, see you," you mumbled, leaning heavily on Max.

He nodded at Sarah, then guided you out of the lounge and towards the back exit. Your head was spinning, the alcohol making the world tilt precariously.

But when Max's arms were around you, you felt a sense of calm settle in your chest.

As you stumbled into the cool night air, you felt his hand slip into yours. You squeezed it tightly, grateful for the warmth and the strength he exuded.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low.

"Yeah," you whispered, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Just a little…fuzzy."

He chuckled, pulling you closer. "I figured. You and Sarah were having quite the party."

"She's the best," you said, a small smile playing on your lips. "You know, she’s like...my sister."

"I know," he replied softly. "And I'm glad you have her."

The silence that followed was comfortable, the quiet hum of the city surrounding you. You walked hand in hand to his car, the cool night air slowly beginning to clear your head.

Once inside the car, the soft glow of the dashboard lights illuminated his face. You looked at him, really looked at him, and a wave of affection washed over you.

Even after all the champagne, all the laughter, all the chaos, he was still the most beautiful person you had ever known.

“Thank you, Max,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “For…for everything.”

He smiled, a soft, gentle smile that melted your heart. “You don't have to thank me. You earned this. All of it.”

He started the car, and as it rolled out of the parking lot, you leaned back against the headrest, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. The city lights blurred into a vibrant streak of colors as he drove.

You knew in that moment, as Max drove you home, that the victory was so much more than a trophy, it was the moment you knew you had someone who would always be there to celebrate the highs and navigate you through the lows.

He led you towards a small, unmarked door, the entrance to a private elevator used for discreet entrances. Inside, the metal walls reflected your image back at you: flushed cheeks, bright eyes, a victorious but tired smile.

But it was Max who held your attention. He stood beside you, his presence filling the small space. He was too damn hot. The adrenaline was still coursing through your veins. But it now mixed with a different kind of energy, a desire that was making your face flush with heat.

You could feel your body temperature rising, a warm sensation spreading from your chest to your face and beyond.

You stared at him, your heart hammering against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed the earlier roar of the race.

He shifted slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and you knew he felt it too—the silent tension that crackled between you.

“You’re staring,” he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you.

“Am I?” You asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out breathy.

He took a step closer, his body almost touching yours. “Yes. Like you want to eat me.” His eyes held a playful glint, but there was something else there too, something hungry.

“Maybe a little," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. You felt your cheeks burn redder. “You’re just…well, you’re very distracting right now.”

He grinned, a slow, sensual smile that sent another wave of heat through you. “Distracting? Is that a problem?”

“It could be,” you said, your gaze dropping to his lips, imagining the feeling of him kissing you.

The elevator doors slid open, and for a brief moment, you forgot where you were. It was just you and him, two hearts beating in time, wanting so much more.

He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Let’s not worry about it here,” he whispered, pulling you out of the elevator and into the dim hallway. “There are better places to be distracted.”

He led you towards the suite, the luxurious space a far cry from the sterile atmosphere of the paddock. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the lamps creating a sensual ambiance.

He closed the door behind you, the soft click sounding like a promise.

The weight of secrecy lifts subtly, a permission granted to be solely yourselves. You turn to face him, your heart hammering in your chest, his eyes are dark, pupils dilated, mirroring the intensity you’re feeling.

He steps closer, his body heat radiating towards you, and the tension in the air thickens like honey.

“You were incredible today,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “Absolutely incredible.”

"So were you," you admit, your voice barely a whisper, though you know he didn't place as high as you.

The humility in his eyes when he came to congratulate you was endearing, your victory was as much his as it was yours.

He leans in, his eyes locking onto yours, and your breath hitches in your throat. It's not just the victory, or the adrenaline, it’s the pull, the magnetic force between you that has always been there, simmering beneath the surface of stolen glances and whispered conversations, now unleashed.

His lips brush against yours, a featherlight touch that makes you tremble, and then they are on yours, a heated claim, a silent demand for more.

The kiss isn't gentle – it's urgent, hungry, fueled by the pent-up desire you’ve both held captive for too long. Your hands find their way into his soft hair, tugging gently as you deepen the kiss, not caring about being careful.

You can taste the champagne on his tongue, the lingering sweetness mixing with the heat of your passion. His hands roam, finding the bare skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine as they trace the curves of your body.

He nibbles on your lower lip, a playful bite that makes you moan, and the sound is like music to his ears, a melody that only he is privy to within the four walls of this room.

There is a heavy breathing against your neck and you match him in rhythm.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes filled with a desire that ignites a fire within you. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he murmurs, his voice husky with want.

“Me too,” you admit, the words a breathless sigh against his lips.

He moves then, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. The wall, cold against your back, makes the heat of his body feel even more intense.

He braces his arm above your head, trapping you with his gaze, his eyes dark and intense. You tangle your fingers in his hair again, pulling him closer for another heated kiss.

He tugs at your dress, his touch sending sparks along your skin, and you reciprocate, your fingers finding the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up over his head. He breaks the kiss and begins kissing down your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Your head falls back against the wall and you gasp quietly as his hands explore your body, mapping the curves and valleys of your skin with a practiced intimacy.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his breath tickling your ear, his hands leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You’ve seen him at his worst, sweat-soaked and frustrated after a bad race, and at his best, confident and triumphant. But here, in the privacy of this room, he’s simply Max – yours.

He pulls away just enough so he can look at you. His eyes roam your face, taking you in, and there’s a raw hunger in his gaze. He leans back in, his body pressing against yours.

His legs went between yours and you moaned, the sound catching in your throat.

“Max,” you whisper, your voice husky and low, your hands reaching for him, pulling him closer to the wanting ache that had been begging for release ever since the race had ended.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your nails scoring the skin. “Please,” you beg, needing his touch, craving the shared release that only came when you were both wrapped up in each other.

He hesitated, his body still as he moved his hands down, cupping your face between them. “You’re drunk,” he says, his voice a low rumble. It’s not a question, but an observation, a gentle reminder that you’re not entirely in control right now.

The words break through the fog of champagne and adrenaline a little, and you realize he's right. You were a little tipsy, the victory buzz mixing with the after-party atmosphere had left you wanting, but hazy.

You reach up, your hands capturing his against your face. “I am,” you admit, your fingertips tracing the lines of his face, the roughness of his stubble. “But I still want you. So much.”

The intensity in his gaze deepens, and for a moment, it's almost frightening. He wanted this too, you could feel it in every fiber of his being. He steps back, his hands releasing your face, his eyes now searching.

“We can’t,” he stated, his voice firm but laced with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You are still drunk and I want you to be sober when we do it.”

“Please,” you repeated shamelessly, your leg moving instinctively, humping against his. The brazenness you wouldn’t usually allow yourself felt entirely natural in this moment.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Don't worry schat," Max muttered, his eyes sparkling with that familiar glint, "I can please you in other ways."

With surprising ease, he scooped you up in his arms, his strength a comforting reassurance. You let out a small yelp of surprise, but quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face against his warm skin, inhaling the scent of him.

The room spun for a moment, but with Max holding you tightly, you felt grounded, safe. . . .

The harsh, fluorescent light of your bathroom felt particularly cruel this morning, mocking the throbbing in your skull. Last night’s celebratory party – or, more accurately, the aftermath of that party – was a monster you were still wrestling with. You squinted at your reflection; dark circles underscored your eyes, your hair was a tangled mess, and the faint smell of stale champagne clung to you like a persistent ex. Today was the day. The day you found out if you'd be back for another season on the racing circuit. The weight of it settled in your stomach, heavy and cold, a stark contrast to the residual warmth from the alcohol.

And then there was Max.

He was currently draped over you like a particularly affectionate koala, his arm a dead weight across your back as you tried, and failed, to tame your unruly hair. “Don’t go,” he mumbled into your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “Stay here.”

You sighed, a sound that was half-exasperation, half-affection. “Max,” you said, your voice still rough from sleep, “I have to, you know, function. Or at least try to.”

He shifted, nuzzling his face further into your neck, his grip tightening. “But you smell so good,” he purred, his voice thick with a morning-after huskiness that always made your heart do a little flip. “And you’re warm.”

“You smell like a brewery and I’m probably radiating regret,” you retorted, finally managing to wrestle yourself free enough to reach for your toothbrush. You squeezed a generous dollop of toothpaste onto the bristles. “Besides, I have an appointment.”

"Oh," he said, his earlier playfulness dissipating, replaced by a hint of anxiety. "The... the thing?"

You nodded, your mouth full of toothpaste. The ‘thing’ was the dreaded meeting with team management. It wasn't just a formality; it was the culmination of your season, the final judgment on whether they saw potential in you, or if your time with the team was over.

You rinsed your mouth and turned back to face him, leaning against the sink. He looked like a lost puppy, his usually vibrant blue eyes clouded with concern. "It'll be okay, Max. Either way, it'll be over."

He frowned, pushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. "But... you're amazing, you know? You're the best. They'd be stupid not to keep you."

You knew he meant it, his unwavering belief in your talent always a comforting constant in your life. It was one of the reasons why you'd fallen so hard for him, the hidden depths behind his public persona. “You’re biased,” you said, managing a small smile. "And thank you. For everything."

He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you, his touch reassuring. "I just... I don't want to see you upset. Not today."

You rested your head against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent of engine oil and a hint of expensive cologne. It was a comforting chaos, a reminder of the world you both occupied, a world of adrenaline and speed and relentless competition.

"Then wish me luck," you murmured, pulling away. "And maybe make some coffee while I get dressed?"

He grinned, the anxiety momentarily banished. "Coffee? Coming right up. Anything for the best damn driver I know."

The drive to the team headquarters felt like entering a pressure cooker. Every street sign, every red light, felt like a countdown, each second ticking away towards either elation or heartbreak.

You parked the car, the engine ticking in protest as it cooled. Taking a deep breath, you smoothed your clothes, trying to project an air of calm you didn’t feel. You walked through the familiar halls of the headquarters, the silence amplifying the nervous flutter in your stomach. Each step felt heavier than the last.

You reached the conference room, the door standing ominously closed. You paused, your hand hovering over the handle. There was no going back now. Taking another deep breath, you turned the handle and went in.

Helmut Marko was already seated at the long table, his expression unreadable. You sat down, your back ramrod straight, trying not to fidget. He offered a curt nod, his eyes, however, didn't meet yours.

“So,” he began, his voice devoid of any warmth. “Let’s get straight to it.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

He spent the next twenty minutes discussing your performance throughout the season. He highlighted your strengths, acknowledged your weaknesses, and spoke in a monotone that offered no hint of his final verdict. He referenced stats and figures, each word further tightening the knot in your stomach. You listened, nodding occasionally, your mind racing, trying to decipher his cryptic language.

Finally, he stopped, the silence that followed almost deafening. He looked at you, a flicker of something unidentifiable in his eyes. “So, here it is.”

You held your breath, your heart thudding in your ears.

"We have decided... to offer you a seat for next season."

The relief that washed over you was so intense, it almost made your knees buckle. You let out a breath, a quiet, almost disbelieving sound. “Really?” you managed to say, your voice a little shaky.

He nodded, a rare, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Your potential is undeniable. There are things to work on, but we believe you have what it takes.”

You felt a grin spread across your face, a genuine, unadulterated smile of pure joy. “Thank you,” you said, your voice overflowing with gratitude. “Thank you so much.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur of contract details and future plans. You nodded, agreed, and signed, your mind still reeling with the good news. You practically floated out of the room, the weight that had burdened you for so long finally lifted.

You pulled out your phone, your fingers trembling as you typed a message to Max. "I got it!"

His reply was instantaneous. “Finally! You had me worried. I’m buying you pizza to celebrate tonight!”

And just like that, the world seemed brighter, the hangover a distant memory. You made your way back to the car, a smile playing on your lips, the prospect of seeing Max again filling you with a warmth that had nothing to do with celebratory drinks and everything to do with love. You couldn't wait.

The soft glow of dawn hadn't quite conquered the darkness yet, but it was enough to paint the room in a gentle, hazy light. You stirred, a slow, languid stretch rippling through your body. A warm weight pressed against your back, a familiar comfort. Max.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, the gentle heat emanating from his body, and it was the most perfect thing to wake up to on Christmas morning.

You turned carefully, mindful not to disturb him, and faced the man whose presence had transformed your life in the most wonderful way. His dark hair was tousled against the pillow, a stray strand falling across his forehead. His face, usually animated with laughter, was placid in sleep, a peacefulness that tugged at your heart. He looked younger, somehow, more vulnerable, and you couldn't resist the urge to reach out and trace the line of his jaw with your fingers.

Your touch must have been more than the softest feather, because his eyelids fluttered open, revealing sleep-hazed brown eyes. He looked at you, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a sleepy smile that made your stomach flip.

"Merry Christmas," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Merry Christmas," you whispered back, your voice equally soft, "Did I wake you?"

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours, "Just the perfect way to wake up." He reached for you, pulling you closer, and you settled against him with a contented sigh.

"We should probably get up," you said after a moment, even though all you really wanted to do was stay tangled in his arms forever, "Presents, remember?"

"Presents can wait," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips. It was a gentle, lingering kiss, full of warmth and affection, a silent promise of all the love you shared. You kissed him back, your hands cupping his face, savoring the moment, the feeling of his lips on yours.

When you finally broke apart, you were both slightly breathless. You managed a small laugh, a nervous flutter in your chest. "Okay, presents it is then." You reluctantly pulled away, the cool air hitting your bare skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you’d just known in his embrace.

You both padded barefoot into the hallway, the scent of pine needles and cinnamon from the Christmas tree in the living room filling the air. It was the first Christmas in your shared home, a landmark you’d both been looking forward to with a mixture of giddy excitement and nervous apprehension. Would it be as magical as you’d both hoped? So far, it was proving to be even more enchanting.

The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights, its branches laden with shimmering ornaments, each one a tiny reflection of the light, and of the love you’d built together. There was a small pile of beautifully wrapped presents under the tree, each carefully chosen and thoughtfully placed.

You both stood there for a moment, just taking it in, the magic of the day settling around you like a warm blanket.

"This is...perfect," you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Max slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side, "It is, isn't it?" he said, his voice full of tenderness.

You both sat down on the rug, your legs touching, the warmth of his body a comforting anchor. You began to carefully unwrap the presents, each one a small gesture of love and understanding. He gave you a soft, cashmere scarf in your favorite shade of blue, a leather-bound journal with a quote from your favorite author engraved on the first page, and a delicate necklace with a tiny silver charm of a star.

You, in return, gifted him a vintage record player he’d always talked about wanting, several new records by his favorite artists, and a handmade, knitted beanie in his favorite colour. You'd spent hours carefully making it, a labor of love that you'd hoped he would appreciate.

He pulled it out of the box, his eyes widening as he instantly recognised what it was. "You actually knitted this?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and delight.

You nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips, "I did. I hope you like it."

He pulled you closer and kissed you again, a long, lingering kiss that spoke more than words ever could, "Like it? I absolutely love it. Thank you," he whispered. You snuggled into his arms, a sense of contentment washing over you.

"I'm starving," Max said after a few minutes, pulling away and ruffling your hair playfully. "What do you say we actually make some breakfast instead of only giving gifts?"

"Sounds perfect," you replied, getting to your feet. You followed him into the kitchen, the familiar sounds of clanging pans and sizzling bacon filling the air.

While he cooked, you poured the orange juice, the two of you working side by side, a comfortable rhythm developing between you. You felt a sense of belonging, of home, in this shared space, in this shared life.

As you ate breakfast, the morning light streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. You looked at Max across the table, his face lit up by that signature smile, and you felt a rush of love so deep it almost took your breath away.

"This is the best Christmas," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you, his eyes twinkling with happiness.

"It is," he echoed, reaching across the table for your hand, his fingers lacing through yours, "And it's just the beginning."

You squeezed his hand, his words sending a shiver of excitement through you. You knew that this was just the start of your journey together, a journey filled with love, laughter, and the soft comfort of shared moments like this.

This first Christmas with Max, in your shared home, was a beautiful promise of the magic to come. And you knew, without a doubt, that you were exactly where you were meant to be. . . .

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maxverstappen1 It's been a year, a full revolution around the sun, since I first fell head over heels for you. A year of laughter, whispered secrets, and building a world together, a world that feels so uniquely ours. And yet, despite this beautiful year, there's still one mystery that eludes me: what exactly is a "hard launch?" Happy birthday, schat. Thinking back to this day last year, it makes my heart swell to remember I was so bold as to ask if I could be yours. To be invited into your amazing world, to share life with such a remarkable woman – that's been the greatest gift. Happy birthday again, and yes, for those who might be wondering, I am dating Y/N, and she's everything I had never imagined wanting and so much more.

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yourusername just posted.

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yourusername Another year older, and this one feels extra special! It's my birthday, and I'm beyond lucky to be celebrating it alongside our first anniversary. Max, this past year with you has been more incredible than I could have ever dreamed. Every moment, every laugh, every shared experience has meant the world to me. You make life an adventure, and I’ve loved every second of it. Feeling so grateful for today and for you. Here's to many more birthdays and anniversaries together! 💙

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