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eu-nicola · 5 months ago

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one night part 2

summary: one night with Max left a problem that you didn't talk to him about

warnings: nothing i think

word counter: 9788

author’s note: english is not my first language

tags: @seasonswinter @spngirl05 @seonghwaexile @sleutherclaw @hc-dutch @96mcobo @g3org1al33 @rawr-123s-stuff @callsignwidow @mid5nights @htpssgavi

After that first dinner and walk, Max became a constant presence in your life again, as if time hadn't passed and everything could be as simple as before. At first, you told yourself it was nothing, just chance encounters between two old friends who had met again after a long time. But, with every message that arrived on your phone, with every offer of coffee, a walk or even help with shopping for the baby, his presence slowly began to integrate into your daily routine.

Mornings, which used to be quiet and lonely, were filled with unexpected visitors. Max would appear with two coffees in hand, as if he had memorized your schedule and knew exactly when you needed him. Sometimes, you would find him waiting for you outside the store where you had spent the last half hour choosing clothes for the baby, with a smile that seemed to light up everything.

The days passed between small shared activities. Walks along the port of Monaco, strolls through the cobblestone streets of the old town, even visits to shops specialising in baby things, where he seemed to move with unexpected ease, commenting on how nice this or that would be. In those moments, everything seemed easy, almost natural, as if he had always been there, as if he had never left.

At first, you refused to think about what that meant. You didn't want to analyse it. It was easier to go with the flow, to enjoy the company without questioning it too much. However, the more time you spent with him, the more you began to notice the small changes around you.

The time you used to spend by yourself was filled with his presence. The moments of solitude in which you used to think about your baby's future were now coloured by his voice, his gestures, his laughter on those night walks in which the silence between you became comfortable, but charged with a tension that you both pretended not to notice.

At the same time, the closeness began to awaken something in you, something you had tried to bury since that night when everything changed. Every time his eyes fell on you, every time his attention focused on your pregnancy, a part of you was torn between the need to protect that secret and the almost uncontrollable desire to tell him the truth.

But you resisted. You knew you shouldn't let the illusion grow. He had a life, a stable relationship. You didn't want to be the person to tear that down, even inadvertently.

Despite your efforts to maintain an emotional distance, there were times when you found it impossible to ignore how easy it was to be with him. Max had become a constant. He was there in the small moments and the big ones, offering you support without you having to ask for it, reminding you, unintentionally, of what once was and what, in a different world, could have been.

However, as the days went by, you began to notice a change in him as well. There was something in his gaze, a mix of nostalgia and curiosity, as if he was looking for something in you that he couldn't quite find. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there, beating in every encounter, in every gesture, in every word you shared.

And although you tried to convince yourself that everything was temporary, that he would soon realize that he had to return completely to his life, you couldn't help but wonder how long that fragile routine could hold up before something, or someone, broke it completely.

During those days between coffees and walks, the specific day arrived when you had decided to start decorating the baby's room. You wanted it to be a reflection of you, of your story, of everything you loved and that you would one day share with your son. And Max was not far behind.

Max appeared just as you began to move boxes and unpack small objects that you had been accumulating in the last few months. Without even asking you, he took off his jacket, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and started helping you. “You don’t have to,” you wanted to tell him, but he was already there, moving furniture, opening cans of paint, and asking where you wanted to put everything.

The room, which until then had been an empty room with white walls and a light wooden floor, slowly began to transform into something warmer, more personal. You had chosen soft shades of blue, a mix between the clear sky and the calm sea, a palette that reminded you of freedom and speed, of your love for cars, that same love that had been with you since childhood.

Max helped you measure the walls, choose where to hang the pictures of small classic cars you had bought at a local store, and even offered to assemble the crib, a piece of light wood that you had chosen for its simplicity and elegance.

“Are you sure you want everything to revolve around cars?” he asked you at one point, with an amused smile as he held up a small mobile with figures of tiny cars and stars.

“Completely sure,” you replied, also smiling. To you, there was nothing more symbolic than that. Cars represented movement, speed, freedom… everything you hoped your son would find in his life.

Hours passed between laughter, conversation and work. Max seemed to enjoy the process as much as you did, even suggesting ideas you would never have considered. It was his idea to put up a bookshelf shaped like a racetrack for the children’s books you had already started collecting. And he was also the one who insisted on putting down a dark blue rug with details of racetracks, which fit perfectly with the theme of the room.

As the afternoon progressed, the room began to take shape. The crib was in the center, next to a white dresser in which you had already started to store small clothes and blankets. On the main wall, you placed a mural of a starry sky, with a racing car crossing the horizon, something that Max had suggested when he saw your sketches.

“It’s perfect,” you said quietly, looking at the final result. The room was no longer just a room; it was a space filled with life, with dreams, with promises for the future.

Max was silent for a moment, standing next to you, looking around the room with an expression that was a mix of pride and something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His eyes scanned every corner, as if he were trying to memorize it, as if that place meant something more to him than he was willing to admit.

“It’ll be fine,” he finally murmured, breaking the silence. “All this… being a mother. I can tell you’re ready now.”

His words made your chest tighten. You weren’t sure if you really were, but hearing that from someone who knew you so well, who had been by your side through so many important moments, gave you a sense of calm, that maybe, just maybe, everything would work out.

The afternoon began to turn into night, and as you gathered up your tools and cleaned up the last traces of paint, you realized how natural it all felt. As if it had always been this way, as if Max had always been by your side to help you build something bigger than yourself.

But you knew that the reality was more complicated. That, as much as you both enjoyed those small moments shared, there was a latent truth between you, a truth that would one day have to come to light. For now, however, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment, the warmth that filled the room and Max's constant presence.

And although everything seemed to be peaceful for both of you, in Max's case it wasn't like that. The change didn't happen overnight, but Kelly, with her keen intuition, began to notice Max's absence from home more often than usual. At first, she didn't give it much importance. Max had always had a busy schedule, between meetings, events and commitments related to his career. But this time, something was different.

The “meetings” outside the house began to become more constant. It wasn’t just about professional commitments anymore. There were nights when he came back late, with a lame excuse, a quick smile, and a distracted kiss.

“Max, meeting again?” she asked one night, her tone casual but her eyes attentive as she watched him adjust his watch in front of the mirror.

“Yeah, nothing important. Just a couple of things pending with the sponsors,” he answered, without looking up. The excuse came out too easily, as if he had already prepared it.

Kelly nodded slowly, but her eyes followed him as he collected his keys and walked out the door. She knew something didn’t fit. Work meetings usually happened during the day, not at this time.

The days continued, and with them, the distance between them became more evident. Max was no longer spending as much time at home, and when he was, he seemed distracted, his attention divided between her, Kelly's stepdaughter, and something or someone else that Kelly couldn't see but felt more and more intensely.

One night, after Max came home late again, the inevitable argument erupted in the kitchen, where silence used to be their refuge but had now become a battleground.

“What’s going on, Max?” Kelly asked, her voice firm, though she tried to remain calm. She was leaning against the edge of the counter, her arms crossed and her gaze fixed on him.

Max, surprised by the direct confrontation, looked up from his phone, where he had been absentmindedly checking messages. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me. You’re going out more and more often, you’re late, and your excuses don’t make sense. Are these really “meetings”? Because it doesn’t seem like it.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that betrayed his discomfort. “You’re overreacting. You know how it is. There are always things to be resolved.”

“There have always been things to be resolved, but you’ve never been so… absent. You’re not even here when you’re home, Max.” You're distant. Is there something you're not telling me?

The words hung in the air, charged with a tension that Max tried to dispel with a tired smile.

"You're imagining things. There's nothing more."

But she wasn't convinced. The arguments began to become more frequent, small daily battles that undermined the relationship. Kelly watched him closely, every look, every gesture, looking for answers that he wasn't willing to give her.

Meanwhile, Max continued to spend more and more time with you. The baby's room was almost finished, and casual walks had become common. The connection they shared had strengthened, as if the months of distance had never existed. For Max, those moments were a respite from the tension he felt at home, a refuge where things seemed simpler, more real.

Kelly, however, was not oblivious to those changes. She knew something was happening, and although she had no concrete proof, she could feel it in every fiber of her being. Suspicion became a constant presence, a shadow that accompanied her during the day and kept her awake at night.

One evening, while Max was out, Kelly checked his phone. It wasn’t something she usually did, but the uncertainty was consuming her. She found no compromising messages, but something that caught her attention: a couple of recent map searches, all directed to the same address… yours.

Kelly slowly closed the phone, her mind racing. She had no clear confirmation, but something inside her clicked. She knew there was something more between Max and you.

That night, when Max returned, she didn’t say anything. She watched him silently, trying to read him, looking for a sign that would confirm her suspicions. But he, as always, was calm, as if everything was under control.

Kelly wasn’t one to give up easily. She knew time would give her the answer she was looking for.

Days later, the sky had turned gray early in the morning, and the rain fell with a calm persistence, hitting the windows of your house. The sound was almost soothing, a constant accompaniment as you and Max worked on the final details of the baby's room. The room was almost finished, soft blue tones filled the space, and car-inspired decorations hung precisely on the walls.

It had been your idea to include a small shelf with miniature cars, a subtle reference to the passion you both shared for speed and racing. He had brought some from his personal collection, something you hadn't expected but that excited you more than you wanted to admit.

“This one will be perfect here,” Max commented, holding up a silver car that gleamed under the soft lamplight.

“Yeah… perfect,” you murmured, your attention more on him than on the shelf.

It was inevitable. There was something about him, the way his hands moved with precision as he adjusted every detail, that caught you. And the worst of all was the closeness, the familiarity that had blossomed again between the two of you. It felt like it hadn’t been months since you were last like this: comfortable, in sync, like two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.

Max reached over to place the car on the shelf, right next to your hand. His fingers brushed yours, barely a touch, but enough for an electric current to run through your skin. It was a brief touch, insignificant to anyone who had seen it, but to you, it was so much more than that.

You looked up, meeting his blue eyes. They were close, too close. You could see the intensity in them, that glow that had always captured you and now seemed stronger than ever. The space between you was filled with a palpable tension, one that made the air in the room seem thicker.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence became complicit, letting the rain be the only sound that filled the room. Max's breathing mixed with yours, and you could feel the heat of his body so close to yours.

One more step.

You knew that if either of you took one more step, if you crossed that thin line that separated you, there would be no turning back. And part of you wanted it. You wanted to lose yourself in that moment, to let everything else disappear.

Max looked down, watching your lips for a fraction of a second. It was subtle, but you noticed it. You felt your heart race, your hands tremble slightly as you tried to keep yourself busy with the cars on the shelf.

“Max…” you murmured, breaking the silence. You weren’t sure what you were going to say, but you needed to say something, anything to cut that tension before it was too late.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back, though his voice sounded hesitant, like a part of him didn’t want to walk away. His eyes didn’t leave yours.

“It’s okay,” you replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay, because you both knew what had happened in that instant. What had almost happened.

You focused back on the cars, lining them up perfectly on the shelf, though your hands were shaking. You felt Max’s gaze on you, like he was waiting for something more, like there was still a part of him that was resisting leaving the room.

“Maybe I should go,” he finally said, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You nodded without looking at him, because you knew that if you did, if you looked into his eyes one more time, all that self-control you had managed to muster would crumble. “Yeah… maybe that’s for the best.”

Max stayed a few more seconds, silent, before finally walking towards the door. You heard him open it, the sound of the rain intensifying for a moment before he closed it behind him.

And when you were left alone, with the rain as your only company, you allowed yourself to breathe. A deep, shaky breath, as if you had been holding your breath all this time. You knew that things were getting more complicated than you had anticipated.

When Max arrived home the air still smelled of rain, and a few drops remained on his jacket as he closed the door carefully, trying not to make noise. He didn’t want another argument. Lately, things with Kelly had been tense. Too much. Every little absence, every exit, seemed to become the trigger for a new fight. And though he insisted that everything was under control, she knew things were far from okay.

Kelly sat on the couch, her gaze fixed on her cell phone, but Max knew immediately that she was waiting. She always did. She waited for him to arrive, as if every night was a test, a chance to confirm her suspicions. Hearing the click of the door, she raised her head and watched him.

“You’re late again,” she said, not raising her voice too much, but with that tone that Max knew well. It was the calm before the storm.

“Yeah, I was just fixing some stuff,” he replied, taking off his jacket and leaving it on a nearby chair. He walked into the kitchen, looking for something to drink, any excuse not to stay still under that scrutinizing gaze.

“What stuff?” Kelly insisted, putting his phone aside and crossing his arms.

“Just… some pending stuff with a friend,” he said, trying to sound casual. But he knew he wouldn’t succeed. Kelly always had a way of seeing beyond, of noticing when something didn’t fit.

The silence stretched for a few seconds, and Max felt the air become thicker. Finally, Kelly got up from the couch and walked towards him with the phone in her hand.

“A friend?” she repeated, her tone now tinged with disbelief. Her blue eyes were fixed on him, but this time not with affection, but with a mix of distrust and something deeper, something Max wasn’t sure he wanted to identify. She picked up her phone, screen lit, and showed it to him.

Max felt his stomach tighten at the sight of the image on the screen. It wasn’t a compromising photo, there was nothing objectively wrong with it. It was a simple snapshot, taken without much thought, during one of the days he’d spent helping you decorate the baby’s room. In the picture, there was you, in profile, placing some small cars on the shelf while he watched from the background. The soft light of dusk came through the window, giving the scene an unexpected warmth.

“What’s this, Max?” Kelly asked, her voice firm but restrained, as if she was trying to remain calm.

Max took a breath. “It’s just a photo. It doesn’t mean anything. I was helping a friend.”

“The one from the other day?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. His gaze grew sharper. “Since when do you spend so much time with that ‘friend’? Since when do you stay up late helping her?”

Max closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the situation crumble in front of him. “It’s not what you think, Kelly. I was just helping with her baby’s room.”

“The baby?” The word seemed to hang in the air. Kelly took a step back, looking at him with a mix of surprise and suspicion. “Why do you care so much about that baby, Max? Why are you so involved?”

Max ran a hand through his hair, sensing that the conversation was taking a dangerous turn. “Because she’s someone who was important to me… and still is. I’ve known her since we were kids, that’s all.”

Kelly watched him in silence for a few seconds, her gaze searching for something in his eyes, some sign, some hidden truth. Finally, she put the phone down on the table with a thud.

“You’re not telling me everything,” she stated, her voice now laden with a certainty that made him feel uncomfortable. “There’s something else. I know.”

Max tried to get closer, but she took a step back, creating a physical distance that seemed to symbolize something much deeper.

“There’s nothing more,” she insisted, but even to him it sounded weak. He knew the seed of mistrust had already been planted, and was now beginning to take root.

She looked at him for a moment longer, and then, without saying anything, she turned and walked out of the room, leaving Max alone, the rain still pattering softly against the windows.

She slumped into a chair, resting her elbows on her knees and rubbing her temples with her hands. He knew this was just the beginning. The tension in his relationship with Kelly had been building for weeks, and now, with that photo, it had all come crashing down.

And the worst thing was, he couldn’t blame her. Because, deep down, Max knew his feelings for you weren’t as innocent as he’d wanted her to believe. And even though he hadn’t crossed that line, he was getting closer. Too close.

The next afternoon you were in your apartment, organizing some things in the baby's room, when your phone vibrated on the nightstand. It was a text from Max:

"Can I see you? I need to talk to you."

You knew something wasn’t right. You had felt the tension growing over the past few weeks. The outings, the talks, the closeness they had regained… it had all been an escape for both of them, a bubble in which the outside world didn’t exist. But reality always finds a way to break in.

You answered with a simple “yes” and minutes later, Max was knocking on your door. When you opened it, you found him with a tired face, his eyes duller than usual and his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He wasn’t the confident and serene Max you knew, but someone who was struggling with something he couldn’t control.

“Come in,” you said softly, stepping aside to let him in.

Max crossed the threshold, but didn’t move beyond the hall. He stood, looking around the room as if looking for something to give him peace, something that could sort out the chaos inside him. You closed the door and turned to him, waiting for him to speak.

“Kelly and I…” he began, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Things aren’t okay.”

It wasn’t a surprise, but still, hearing those words made your chest clench. You knew your presence had contributed to that tension, even though you didn’t mean to. Max ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he made when he was nervous.

“She confronted me about a picture… one of the times I was here,” he continued, looking at you with a mix of frustration and sadness. “It was nothing, you know. But for her it was enough. She thinks there’s something more.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the door frame. You had waited for this moment, and now that it was here, you felt like everything was falling apart. You couldn’t allow yourself to be the cause of any more problems in her life. You couldn’t allow this situation to continue to progress.

“Max…” you began, your voice soft but firm. “This isn’t working.”

He frowned, taking a step towards you. “What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I mean… we should stop seeing each other. At least for a while.”

Max looked at you as if he hadn’t heard right, as if your words didn’t make sense. “Stop seeing each other? Why? We haven’t done anything wrong. I’m just here to help you.”

“I know,” you admitted, feeling the weight of each word. “But your relationship with Kelly is on the verge of collapse, Max. And my presence isn’t helping. I can’t be the reason why everything in your life falls apart.”

“You’re not the reason,” he replied quickly, almost as if he wanted to convince you as much as himself. “What’s going on with Kelly is… complicated. But it’s not your fault.”

His eyes searched yours, as if with one look he could change your mind. But you had already made up your mind. You couldn’t go on like this. You couldn’t be the cause of more pain, not for him, not for yourself.

“Max, you need space to sort out your life,” you said, standing your ground. “We can’t just keep going like nothing’s happening. Not when everything around you is falling apart.”

For a moment, it looked like he was going to insist, like he was going to find a reason to stay. But something in your gaze, in the firmness of your voice, stopped him. His shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of reality had finally caught up with him.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” he murmured, his voice heavy with emotion.

You felt your heart clench. You didn’t want to lose him either, but you knew it was for the best. For him. For you. For the baby.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you assured him, a small lump in your throat. “We just… need time. To think. To heal.”

Max nodded slowly, though his eyes reflected the internal battle he was fighting. He didn’t say anything else, just staring at you for a few more seconds, as if he wanted to burn your face into his memory.

Finally, he turned to the door. Before he walked out, he paused, one hand on the knob.

“If you ever need anything… I’ll be here,” he said, not looking at you.

“I know,” you replied softly.

And then, Max was gone, leaving behind him a feeling of emptiness that filled the entire space. You stood in the doorway, listening to the echo of the door closing, feeling the silence envelop you.

You leaned against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment. You knew you had made the right decision. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

The weeks after your separation from Max were a whirlwind of emotions and silences. You had tried to keep yourself busy, focusing on the final preparations for the baby’s arrival and avoiding thinking about everything you had left behind. Every corner of your house seemed to be filled with recent memories: his laughter, his hands helping you hang the blue curtains in the baby’s room, the conversations you shared late at night while the world slept. But now, everything was quiet. Too quiet.

Then, one cold morning, the world you had been rebuilding changed forever.

You had been experiencing discomfort throughout the night, but you ignored it, thinking it was just signs of the end of pregnancy. You had read that many women experienced false alarms before the actual moment. However, when the pain became more intense and frequent, you knew it was time.

You took a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed, as the clock read 4:12 a.m. Your suitcase was packed, weeks in advance, in a corner of the room. You grabbed your phone with shaking hands and called your mother. Her voice, always calm, immediately calmed you down.

“I’m on my way,” she said with a firmness that made you feel like everything would be okay.

In less than half an hour, she and your father arrived to take you to the hospital. The streets of Monaco were deserted, the glow of the lights reflecting off the wet pavement from the nighttime drizzle. Everything seemed unreal, like the world was on pause as you headed into one of the most important moments of your life.

The hours at the hospital were a mix of anxiety, pain, and anticipation. Your best friend arrived shortly after and stayed by your side, holding your hand when the pain was unbearable. Doctors and nurses came and went, their faces kind but focused. You felt each contraction like a wave, bringing you closer and closer to the moment you would meet your son.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you heard the first cry.

A loud, clear, life-filled cry. You gasped, tears filling your eyes as you looked at the little being who had just entered the world. Your son. Miles Emilian.

“He’s a healthy boy,” the doctor informed you with a smile as they placed the baby in your arms.

You looked at him, and in that instant, everything else disappeared. His small, pink face, his tiny hands clenched into a fist, his half-closed eyes that seemed to seek you out. You felt an immediate, deep connection, as if your whole life had been destined for this moment.

“Hello, little one,” you whispered in a broken voice, caressing his soft cheek. “Welcome.”

Your mother, at your side, couldn’t hold back her tears. Your father, always stoic, had his eyes shining with emotion. Your best friend took a photo, but not to publish it, but to keep it as an intimate memory of that moment.

The next few days in the hospital were a whirlwind of doctor visits, check-ups, and learning how to care for Miles. Your mother was with you the whole time, guiding you with the experience that only the years could give. Camille spent the afternoons with you, helping you plan how you would organize your new life.

You knew that this moment would change everything. Miles would become the center of your world, and you were prepared to face it alone, at least for now. You didn’t want anyone else to know. You didn’t want awkward questions, curious glances, or the inevitable murmur that would rise in Monaco if people found out you’d fathered a child without a known father figure.

You’d decided to keep this between those who truly mattered: your parents and Camille. The only family you needed right now.

One afternoon, as you cradled Miles in your arms in the room lit by the soft light of dusk, you thought about everything you’d gone through to get here. About Max, about what you’d shared, and how things had changed. You wondered if he would ever suspect the truth. But you shook your head. It wasn’t the time to think about that. Now, only Miles mattered.

You watched him sleep, his little chest rising and falling rhythmically, and you knew you had made the right choice.

This little being was your life now. Your greatest adventure. Your greatest love.

A few weeks after Miles was born, life was still slowly falling into place. You were at home, surrounded by the smell of freshly washed bottles and diapers, your head still reeling from the experience of being a first-time mother. Every day brought something new: Miles’ first bath, the first night he managed to sleep for two hours straight, and the first smile that barely appeared on his small, pink face.

Sometimes, as you cradled him in your arms, you wondered if you had done the right thing by keeping his existence a secret. But you quickly dismissed those thoughts. You had done it for everyone’s peace of mind, especially Max’s. You couldn’t afford to be another complication in his world.

As you sank into that bubble of motherhood, away from you, something was about to change.

Max was in his apartment, enjoying a quiet moment after an afternoon full of commitments. Kelly was out with his daughter, and he was taking advantage of that time to relax, answer some pending messages and review the preparations for his next race. He had tried to concentrate, but his mind kept coming back to you. Since you had decided to distance yourself, something inside him had been put on hold. A strange feeling that something important was being hidden from him.

Then, the phone rang.

It was Leo, a mutual friend of both of them. Max answered without thinking too much, imagining it would be a quick call about some event or meeting.

“Dude, how are you?” Leo greeted in his usual tone. “Are you still in Monaco? I heard that your life is pretty busy.”

“Yeah, you know, always running around.” Max smiled slightly, resting the phone on his ear while checking some emails. “What's new?”

“Nothing special… although, well, I found out something.”

Max arched an eyebrow, pushing the screen aside.

“Oh, yeah? What thing?”

Leo hesitated for a second, as if he wasn’t sure if he should say it. But in the end, curiosity won out.

“It’s about… Y/n. I heard she finally had her baby.”

Max’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“Yeah, she had it a few days ago. I thought you knew.” Leo sounded confused. “They said the baby is beautiful… and everything went well. His name is Miles Emilian.”

Max fell silent, processing the information. You hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t told him you’d already given birth.

“Are you sure?” he asked, trying to stay calm.

“Totally. The funny thing is… no one knows much about the father. Some people say the baby is from a night you never mentioned afterward, before you moved to London.” Leo laughed softly. “Maybe someone who preferred not to get involved.”

The words hung in the air, and something clicked in Max’s mind. A night you never mentioned. A night where things between you changed forever.

“Leo, thank you. I have to go.”

Max hung up before he heard a reply, his mind racing. Could it be possible? He’d been with you that night, and then… you walked away. And now, there was a baby. A baby you never talked about.

Without a second thought, Max walked out of his apartment, his heart pounding. He knew that if he wanted answers, he couldn’t go to you. You were too protective, too secretive. But your mother… she might know something.

He drove quickly to your parents’ house. The light rain was beginning to fall, covering the streets of Monaco with a thin layer of water. When he arrived, he knocked on the door harder than he intended. Anxiety and fear mixed within him.

It was your mother who opened it, surprised to see Max in the doorway.

“Max… what are you doing here?” she asked in a worried voice.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, bluntly. “It’s important.”

Your mother invited him in, closing the door behind him. Max walked into the living room, his mind full of questions and possibilities. He turned to her, his blue eyes shining brightly.

“I know she had the baby,” he said directly, without preamble. “And I need to know the truth. Is it mine?”

Your mother looked at him in surprise, but also with a look of guilt that she couldn’t hide.

“Max…”

“Please,” he interrupted her, his voice almost pleading. “I can’t go on without knowing.”

She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. She had tried to protect you, but she knew this moment would come sooner or later.

“Yes, Max. Miles is your son.”

The words hit Max like a wave, stealing his breath. He stood still, taking in what he had just heard. He was a father. You had kept something so big, so important from him.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” he asked in a whisper, his eyes searching for answers.

“She thought it was for the best. She didn’t want to complicate your life… knowing you already had so much going on.”

Max clenched his fists, feeling a mix of anger, sadness, and confusion. He didn’t know what he would do now, but one thing was certain: he couldn’t walk away anymore. Miles was his son, and he would do everything in his power to be in his life.

From the moment he left your parents’ house, Max couldn’t think of anything but you. The revelation left him devastated, furious, and most of all, betrayed. How could you hide something so important from him? He had been willing to support you, to be present in your life, but he never imagined that behind that distance there was a secret that would change everything.

The car moved quickly through the streets of Monaco, crossing avenues wet from the recent rain. Night had fallen, and the city lights were reflected in the puddles that covered the asphalt. Max barely noticed the journey; his mind was focused on one thing: facing you.

When he arrived at your house, he didn't hesitate. He parked the car abruptly, got out in the light rain, and quickly climbed the stairs until he reached the door of your apartment. His heart was pounding, a mix of adrenaline, pain, and rage. He knocked hard on the door, almost as if demanding an immediate response.

Inside, you were rocking Miles in your arms, trying to calm him down after a long day. The sound of knocking on the door made you jump. You looked towards the entrance, out the window, a feeling of unease running through your body. You saw it.

With your heart racing, you left Miles in his crib and walked to the door. When you opened it, there was Max, soaked by the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes lit up by a mix of fury and anguish.

"Max..." you whispered, but he didn't let you continue.

"How could you?" he said, his voice low but full of tension. He took a step forward, forcing you to step back into the apartment. He closed the door behind him without taking his eyes off you. “How could you hide from me that you had a son?”

The words fell like a slab on you. You knew this moment would come, but you never thought it would be like this, so sudden, so emotionally charged.

“Max, I…”

“No!” he interrupted you, raising a hand to stop any explanation. “I don’t want excuses. I want the truth.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm as tears began to burn in your eyes.

“I thought I was doing the right thing…” you murmured, your voice breaking. “I thought it would be better for you. You have a life, Max. You have Kelly, her daughter, your career… I didn’t want to complicate things for you.”

He laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, full of disbelief.

“Better for me?” he repeated, taking a step closer to you. “You don’t think I had the right to decide that? He’s my son! He had the right to be here from the beginning, to see you go through all of this, to know him…”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words. You knew he was right, but you also knew you had acted with your heart, believing you were protecting him.

“I didn’t want you to feel trapped,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes for the first time. “I didn’t want you to feel forced to be here.”

Max stared at you, and for a moment, the fury in his eyes mixed with something deeper, something more painful.

“You would never have caught me,” he whispered. “Because I would have been here. I wanted to be here… with you.”

The silence stretched between the two of you, thick and charged with unresolved emotions. You could feel the tension in the air, every unspoken word, every repressed feeling.

“Max… I just wanted to protect you.” —Tears began to run down your cheeks. —I never wanted to hurt you.

He ran a hand through his wet hair, trying to calm himself, but his chest kept rising and falling rapidly. Pain. That was what he felt. Pain for having missed the first moments of his son’s life, for not being there for you when you needed him most.

—You didn’t have to protect me —he said at last, his voice softer but still firm. —You were my friend. I was always willing to be there for you… and now, I want to be here for my son.

His words were a promise, but also a declaration of intent. No matter what happened, no matter how complicated it was, Max wasn’t going to disappear from his son’s life.

You stood there in silence, heart pounding, knowing this was the point of no return. Max was here, and he wasn’t going to leave.

“He’s asleep,” you whispered, breaking the silence. “Do you want to see him?”

Max nodded slowly, his eyes still shining with a mix of emotions. You led him over to where Miles was sleeping peacefully in his crib, wrapped in a blue blanket. Max walked over, watching the little boy with a gaze that combined love, wonder, and a silent sadness for all he’d missed.

Max stood there, standing over the crib, watching Miles with an intensity that made you hold your breath. For a few seconds, the world seemed to stop as he took in every detail of the sleeping little face.

Miles had soft, light hair, a small, upturned nose, and those rounded cheeks that still held the blush of a newborn. His small hands were relaxed, resting next to his face, completely oblivious to the storm of emotions his arrival had brought.

After a long silence, Max spoke, his voice low and heavy with emotion:

“He looks like me… when I was little.” An almost imperceptible smile curved his lips as his eyes remained fixed on his son.

You looked at him, and even though you had noticed it before, you were still amazed at how much Miles reflected his father. You nodded softly, your eyes filling with tears once again.

“Yes…” you whispered, your voice shaking. “He has your eyes… and that little wrinkle on his forehead when he frowns.”

Max let out a soft laugh, more of a sigh. He didn’t take his eyes off Miles, as if he were trying to memorize every feature, every little detail that had been taken from him during those first few weeks of life.

You stood by his side, watching the scene you had imagined so many times but feared would never happen. And then, guilt took hold of you again, so strong that you could barely breathe.

“Max…” you murmured, breaking the silence.

He looked up at you, his blue eyes filled with a mix of feelings you couldn’t quite decipher: pain, tenderness, confusion.

“I’m so sorry.” The words came out in a whisper, full of sincerity. “There is no excuse that justifies what I did. I took you away from something that was also yours, and I know I hurt you… I never wanted to do it, but I did, and I’m sorry… with all my heart.”

Max watched you in silence for a moment, his eyes searching yours, trying to understand the depth of your words.

“You thought you were doing the right thing, didn’t you?” he said finally, with unexpected calm.

You nodded, biting your lip to hold back your tears.

“I thought I was protecting you… and that I was protecting Miles too. But now I know I was wrong. I should have told you the truth from the start.”

Max sighed, running a hand over her face as she moved away from the crib a little, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you right away…” she admitted honestly. “This… is a lot. But I want to try. For him.”

His words were a blow, but also a hope. You didn’t expect everything to be fixed in one night, but the fact that he was willing to try meant more than you could express.

“That’s all I can ask for…” you said quietly, with a mix of relief and sadness.

Max nodded, her gaze returning once more to the crib, where Miles shifted slightly, letting out a small sigh before settling back into deep sleep.

“He deserves us to be here.” “Both of you.” Max looked at you again, and this time, there was a determination in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “And I’m going to be here. No matter what happens, I’m his father, and I’m going to be there in his life.”

You stayed silent, letting his words sink in. He stood a moment longer by the crib, watching Miles as if the entire world revolved around that tiny being. Then, with a deep sigh, he moved away slightly and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. You could see the conflict on his face: the internal struggle between the pain you had caused him and the decision he was about to make.

Finally, he spoke, his voice firm but tinged with vulnerability.

“I can’t keep living a lie.” His words were direct, almost like a whisper, but heavy with weight. He looked at you, his blue eyes holding yours with an intensity that made you hold your breath. “Kelly and I… it’s over.”

Your heart stopped for a second. You hadn’t expected that, not so soon, not under these circumstances. You gripped the edge of the table next to you, seeking some stability as you processed what he had just said.

“Max…” you started, but he held up a hand, stopping you.

“Let me finish.” He pushed away from the wall and took a couple of steps towards you. “I’ve been thinking about this for weeks. Even before I knew the truth about Miles. Kelly is a good person, but our relationship has been falling apart, and now I understand why.” He paused, his gaze darkening for a moment. “I can’t be with her while my heart is here… with you and our son.”

His words hit you like a storm. You had dreamed of this moment, but not under these conditions. You didn’t want to be the cause of a breakup, or the reason for her pain.

“Max, I don’t want you to make a hasty decision…” you said cautiously, your voice shaking. “I don’t want to be the reason you break up with Kelly. It’s your life, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this out of obligation.”

He shook his head, moving even closer, until he was just a step away.

“It’s not because I have to. It’s because I want to.” His voice was low but full of conviction. “I love you. I loved you before, even when things got complicated between us. And now, more than ever, I want to be here, with you. I want to be a father to Miles, and I want him to know that his parents love him and are in this together.”

Your eyes filled with tears again, this time from the mix of emotions overwhelming you: fear, relief, hope. You didn’t want to allow yourself to dream of a perfect future, but Max was offering it to you, even in the midst of all the confusion.

“But what if it doesn’t work out?” you asked in a small voice. “What if all this just makes things worse?”

Max moved a little closer, until his hand found yours. He held it firmly, as if he wanted to assure you that he wasn’t planning on letting go.

“I don’t know.” “He was honest, and that somehow reassured you. “But what I do know is that I don’t want to move forward without trying. I want to be a part of your life, Miles’, every step of the way.”

His words cut deep, but fear still resided in your chest. You knew that nothing would be easy, and that you would both have to work hard to repair the wounds and build something new. But at the same time, his determination and love were an anchor that kept you firm.

“Max.” You took a deep breath, looking at your joined hands. “If this is what you really want…”

He nodded, squeezing your hand gently.

“One step at a time,” he said, his lips curling into a small smile. “I’m still angry, though.”

The weight of the decision seemed to have lightened a little with those words. Max was willing to do whatever it took to be by your side, and you, for the first time in a long time, allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could have the family you’d always wanted.

After that, it wasn’t more than a week until Max told you. It was a quiet afternoon, one of those where the rain fell softly and the world seemed slower. You were sitting on the couch, with Miles asleep on your chest, his rhythmic and calm breathing filling the silence of the apartment. You had lit a vanilla-scented candle, trying to give your home a warmth that sometimes seemed elusive.

Max arrived as he did lately, unannounced but always welcome. He knocked on the door softly before entering, as if he knew that any loud sound could disrupt the peace that reigned in the small space. He found you there, with the baby in your arms, and a tired smile appeared on his face.

“I’m done with Kelly,” he said, his voice calm but firm, as if he were releasing a burden he had carried for too long.

You didn't say anything at first. You just nodded slowly, looking into his eyes that searched for a reaction in yours. You knew that moment would come, but now that it was here, you didn't feel the need to say much. You weren't going to keep getting involved in it. It was his life, his decision, and although you knew the situation was complex, you also understood that it wasn't your place to intervene more than necessary.

"Do you want to hold him?" you asked softly, changing the subject as you pointed at Miles, who was still sleeping peacefully.

Max nodded and approached with a gentleness that always surprised you. He took Miles in his arms as if he were the most fragile and precious thing he had ever held. The baby moved slightly, but didn't wake, settling against his father's chest naturally.

The next few days became a silent but comforting routine. Max began to spend more and more time with you and Miles, almost as if he had never been away. He would arrive in the mornings with coffee in hand and a bag of food or things he thought might help you: diapers, bottles, even toys that Miles was still too small to use.

You watched him transform before your eyes. Every day he spent with Miles, he showed you what a good father he was, even in those little details that you had previously underestimated. He would get up when the baby cried, rock him until he calmed down, and look at him with a mix of love and wonder that broke your heart.

One afternoon, while Max was on the floor playing with Miles—although the baby was just beginning to notice the toys in front of him—you stopped for a moment to watch them. Max was talking to him, although Miles only responded with laughter and babbling. It was a scene so simple, but so powerful, that you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.

Why didn't you tell him before?

That question had become a constant shadow in your mind. You had your reasons, you knew. You thought you were protecting him, yourself, everyone. But now, watching Max give himself over to his son, you understood that you had stolen something priceless from him.

There was one night in particular that you couldn’t forget. Max was in the kitchen preparing a bottle while you cradled a restless Miles. When Max returned, he took the baby in his arms and whispered something to him, as he often did to calm him.

“You’re so strong, little one,” he said, with that look of tenderness that disarmed you every time.

You stayed silent, leaning against the bedroom door. You felt small, vulnerable. You had made a decision that had left him out of this for months. And even though he didn’t mention it, you knew that deep down it still hurt. It hurt you too.

One night, as Max said goodbye, he stopped at the door and looked at you for a long moment.

“Thank you for letting me be here,” he said softly.

“It’s your place, Max,” you replied sincerely, trying to hide the emotion in your voice. But you knew he could tell.

“I didn’t always feel that way,” he admitted, almost in a whisper, before he walked out.

As you closed the door behind him, you leaned against it, feeling the weight of his words. You knew you had a lot to make up for. But you also knew Max was willing to stay.

When racing resumed, so did the frenetic routine Max knew so well. Airports, photo shoots, interviews, team meetings… everything resumed as if time had been paused. But this time, something had changed. Max wasn’t the same driver who went out into the world a year ago. Now, he had a much more important reason to return home after each Grand Prix: Miles.

You, meanwhile, were adjusting to the new normal. But the nights were the hardest. Max had promised you he would be there, and he made daily calls from all over the world. He told you about training, team meetings, and how, despite everything, his thoughts were always with you and his son.

However, there was something in your heart that just didn’t quite fit. You had kept your pregnancy and birth private for so long, but now, you realized you couldn’t hide it anymore. You didn’t want Miles to grow up in the shadows.

It was a difficult decision, but after days of thinking about it, you decided it was time. One quiet afternoon, while Miles was sleeping in his crib, you grabbed your phone and opened the Instagram app. You looked through the photos you had taken since he was born: simple but meaningful moments, like his first smile or the way he slept peacefully in Max’s arms.

You picked a special photo: Miles, with his curious eyes and a smile that melted hearts, sitting on your lap while Max, behind you, held his little hand. It was the first photo that showed not only your baby, but also the life you had begun to build with his father.

The caption was simple but meaningful:

“Miles Emilian. The love of my life. Our adventure together is just beginning.”

You took a breath before posting it. You knew that once you did, there would be no turning back. The comments, the questions, the curious glances... it would all come with it. But you were ready.

The reaction was immediate. Your followers, family, friends... they all started commenting with messages full of love and surprise. They had suspected your absence, but now they understood everything. The words “congratulations,” “beautiful,” and heart emojis flooded your phone.

But what you didn't expect was that, within minutes of your post, Max did the same.

On his profile, he shared a different photo: Miles in his arms, both dressed in personalized racing jerseys, with the name “Verstappen” embroidered on the baby's back. The caption was short, direct, but full of meaning:

“Welcome to the world, Miles Emilian Verstappen. My son, my pride.”

The impact was instantaneous. The news spread throughout the motorsport world and beyond. Sports media, celebrity magazines, even his teammates and other drivers commented on the post. Some were shocked, others couldn’t believe it, but most of the messages were positive, congratulating Max on his new stage as a father.

That night, as you watched the avalanche of reactions on your social media, Max called you. His voice sounded different, more serene but also excited.

“It’s done,” he said, with a mix of relief and pride. “The world knows I have a son. That I have a family.”

You stayed silent for a moment, letting his words settle in your mind. There was something deeply liberating about that. No more secrets. No more hiding. Now, the entire world knew that Miles was his, that you and he shared something much deeper than a passing romance.

“Are you okay?” Max asked, his voice soft but concerned.

“I’m fine,” you replied, with a smile he could feel even through the phone. “Ready to start this life with you.”

That night, as you rocked Miles to sleep, you felt a calm you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You’d been through so much to get here: difficult decisions, secrets, fights, reconciliations. But now, with Max by your side and your son in your arms, you knew you were where you were meant to be.

Max returned a few days after his last race, and this time, when he walked through your door, he was no longer just the star driver or the man who had been an important part of your past. He was the father of your son, your partner, and the person you were ready to build a future with.

The three of you, together, ready to face whatever came.

#fanfic #oneshot #imagine #x reader #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max x reader #max verstappen #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1

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devotedfem · 6 months ago

Text

«Scream»

Synopsis: It's late and you're watching horror movies. But someone's calling you, a weirdo asking you questions about classic horror films. Nothing was wrong until he started to threat you, and when you hang up the phone you realized there's murderers wearing ghostface masks in your house.

Maknae line (poly) x f. Reader

2.7K words.

Genre: Scream au | yander-ish.

Tags: psycopaths maknae line, mind games, psychological terror, murderers (implied but not described), betrayal, the maknae line are a menace here, emotional conflict, delusional maknae line, angry reader, very VERY dubious consent (coercion is not consent so read with caution), happy ending for them not for reader, smut, overstimulation.

A/N: I'm so sorry for disappearing for literally a month, i moved to another country and life has been very stressful lately, so yeah i took a break from writing but here i am again, writing lots of vminkook p0rn. Hope you enjoy!

From the series masterlist; Final girl.

Navigation Masterlist.

You’re eating popcorn, resting on your couch with your feet up on the armchair. You took a gulp of your coke can without breaking your gaze from the tv screen, you startled staining your shirt when the slasher appeared from nowhere, you cursed under your breath taking off your shirt but before you can go to your room to change, your phone vibrated with notifications. You turned them off because the boys always get annoying on the weekends.

You opened the group chat, rolling your eyes when you see the 123 unread messages.

Group chat: Y/n and the homos.

Jiminie: Guys can u please stfu for a moment, I wanna sleep but u don’t stop talking shit.

You: let’s kicked them out of the group Jiminie, I swear I can’t even watch a movie in peace.

Jjk: u two r so fcking boring.

Tae: right? Like can u two at least read what were talking abt.

You: we’re*

Jiminie: lol

Jjk: Guys this is serious, there’s a sicko killing people wearing a ghostface mask.

You: Ghostface masks are hot.

Tae: ??

Jjk: ???????

Jiminie: ik right

You: Anyway, maybe is just a rookie killer without imagination, like it’s Halloween and there’s a lot of sickos around here. Just closed ur doors and don’t be a pussy.

Tae: I’m literally speechless.

Jiminie: Bye I’m sleeping, stfu.

Jjk: we warned u.

You dropped your phone on the couch, walking to your kitchen to make more popcorn. You missed the plot twist of the movie because of your friend’s annoying group chat.

You were on your bra and pajama pants, not caring about anything in the world. Until your home phone rings in your kitchen making you stop immediately. You frowned tilting your head to the side, watching the old home phone still ringing. It’s being ages since someone called to that number, you didn’t even know that the ancient thing was still working.

“Odd,” you murmured to yourself, answering the phone.

“Hello?”

You heard a heavy breath on the other side of the phone. The person says nothing back, making you frown.

“Who’s this? And why are you calling to this number?” Your patience was running thin ice.

“I’m watching you,” said a man with a low voice.

You rolled your eyes with annoyance.

“Is this a prank? Don’t call to this number again or I’ll fuck you up.”

You were about to hang up the phone but a deep chuckle from the man stopped you. Why does he sound familiar to you?

“Are you watching Friday the 13th?” He taunted. His voice sounded odd, like if he was lowering it purposely.

Your stomach sink with dread, your heart rate speed up when you heard from the tv the slasher killing people.

“What if I do?” You gritted between teeth, keeping an eye on your surroundings. You won’t show fear to that weirdo.

“Let’s play a game, I’ll ask you some questions about horror movies. And if you answer wrong, I’ll kill you.”

Your eyes widened by his words, you were about to hang up and call the police but the other man was quicker than you.

“If you hang up or try to touch your fucking phone I’ll slice your neck,” the threat made you freeze on your place, the wire of the home phone wouldn't let you move far away anyway.

You felt your eyes sting up with tears by fear. You remember Jungkook and Taehyung warning.

Your breath turned shallow and your grip on the home phone started to tremble. You felt cornered and scared.

“What’s the identity of the masked killer of Scream?”

You inhaled deep, this one was easy.

“Uhm, his name was Billy, Sidney’s boyfriend.”

Your eyes roamed your kitchen, watching your surroundings again with dread and fear.

“Good.”

You couldn’t help but frown again because he sounded so familiar to you, but you can’t pinpoint of whom that voice belongs to.

“Last one; what’s the plot twist of Friday the 13th?”

Fucking fucker.

This time your eyes blurred by unshed tears because of how nervous and panicked you felt. You’ve never been good at dealing with strong emotions, even when you try to act tough, in your insides you’re very easy to scare and intimidate.

“I- please i-I don’t know,” you stuttered with quivering lips, you feel like having a panic attack.

“Look behind you, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched sharply, you turned your neck to look behind you, widening your eyes and screaming at the top of your lungs when you saw a man in your kitchen, wearing a ghostface mask and waving his unoccupied hand at you.

And then you run.

And he did it too.

You grabbed your phone from the couch, noticing with horror how the SIM card was missing. But you didn’t have time to linger about that thought.

You listened to his steps chasing you from behind, making you run faster by the increase of adrenaline pumping your veins.

You tried to open the front door of your house, but it didn’t budge. You were home alone, your parents went out in a trip.

You were fucked up.

Without any more options, you climbed the staircases hiding in a bathroom.

You try texting your parents but it was past midnight and your phone didn’t have its sim card, so you can’t call neither text.

That’s why you opened the app where you and your friends have the group chat.

Group chat: Y/n and the homos.

You: CALL THE POLICE THERE’S SOMEONE IN MY HOUSE AND THEYTOOKMYSIM CARD

Jjk: y/n? what the fuck, that’s not funny.

You: PLEASE IM NOT JOKING AND I CANTK CALLM THEPLICE

Tae: are you being serious right know?

Jiminnie: you guys again?

Jjk: Y/n’s saying there’s someone in her house but she can’t call the police but she can chat with us lol.

You: GUYS PLEASEIMSERIUS PLEASE HES COMING I NEED YOUR HELP CALL THE POLICE!!!!!!!!!!!

Tae: dude writing in capitals won’t make your prank more credible

You screamed into your hand with frustration, pulling your hairs out and weeping with fear, you wanted to smash your head against the tiles by exasperation. They weren’t taking you seriously.

Then you half open the door quietly, watching the murderer roaming the hallway. When he turned his back to you, distracted on his phone, you took yours to snap a picture of him.

Group chat: Y/n and the homos.

You: *send picture*

You: THIS IS HIM HES INMYHOUSE

Jjk: what the fuck

You: JUNGKOOK IM HAVINGAPANICK ATTACK CALL THE FUCKING POLICE OR ILL KILL YOU MYSELF

Tae: Damn no need to be so harsh y/n, calm down.

You: CALL THE POLICE YOU MORONS

Jiminnie: u guys r so annoying

You: jiminniehelp me please please please im scared imnot lying

Jjk: y/n you’re making me worry, aren’t you fucking with us?

You: NOO!!!!!!!!

Tae: oh well, then we should do something abt it

You: OFC U IDIOT

Jjk: yeah ur right tae, what we should do?

You: CALLTHEPOLICE?????!!!!!!!!

Tae: u think so?

Jjk: mm not so sure

Tae: and u Jiminnie, what do u think?

You: guys whats happening, please im scared

Jiminnie: I think I’ll go and help my y/n.

You frowned with trembling hands, tasting the saltiness of your silent tears. You were about to throw up and insult them again but the bathroom’s door opening made you jump with fear.

“Here you are.”

In any other circumstance you would scream and run for your life, you would grab something from the bathroom to throw it at him and save your life. But none of that happened, you stayed in your spot freeze, maybe because you were having a panic attack, but even then your primal instincts should fuel you to run. But that wasn’t the reason of your frozen state. Not at all. It was the fact that you recognized that voice.

“You… are you…”

Then the murderer took off his ghostface mask, tilting his head to the side and making your heart shatter.

“Yes my y/n?”

Jimin, fucking Park Jimin.

The deep fear was replaced by ugly hurt and anger. You saw red, walking towards him with your fists clenched, you punched him on his shoulder but he didn’t budge.

“How dare you scared me like that! You think is funny?! I hate you so much, I don’t want to see your fucking face ever again. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, with angry tears streaming to your chin.

“You thought I was joking?” he asked with mirth, the dark glint in his eyes turned your stomach with dread.

“Just get out Jimin,” you said tired and hurt.

“Y/n, I’m here to kill you-”

And just by that your fear came back twice as hard, your ears buzzed clogging up Jimin’s next words.

You ignored your throat lump of hurt and betrayal, you felt numb while running away from him, hiding in one of the bottom’s cabinets of your kitchen.

You wrapped your arms around your legs, pulling your knees to your chest. You cried until you felt your eyes swelling.

“Y/n? Baby where are you?”

Your eyes widened at Taehyung’s sweet voice calling for you.

You didn’t think twice before opening the cabinet and throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Taehyung chuckled hugging you back as hard, stroking your hair while you’re crying on his neck.

“There there, nothing bad will happen to you.”

The shinning knife in Taehyung’s other hand knocked some sense into you. The realization of your reality hit you hard making you gasp and break the hug in a flash, you watched him with your jaw set and your eyes showing the deep hurt and betrayal you felt inside.

Taehyung foxy smile widened on his lips, he pouted when you took a step back from him.

“I won’t hurt you, I promise,” he said softly, biting his bottom lip to stop a smirk.

You let him come closer to you just a step, and then you blow his head with a pan making him whimper with pain. You used his moment of confusion to run away past him.

You opened a window to get out of your house, your ears were buzzing by the raw adrenaline pumping your veins like liquid fire.

You were so, so close to reach your car until you’re not. The next thing you know is that you’re falling face down on the floor by a body launching at your back. You groaned with pain, feeling the body pinning you to the ground by its weight.

“Caught you,” Jungkook’s voice taunted against your ear, sounding out of breath.

You screamed at the top of your lungs, making Jungkook cursed under his breath. He covered your mouth quickly, lifting your body to take you inside the house again.

Your eyes were too swollen by the amount of tears you shed tonight, you were tired and hurt by their sick game.

Jungkook sat on your couch with you on his lap, one arm wrapped around your naked waist to pull you against his chest.

“Isn’t she so cute?” asked Jimin sighing dreamily, you felt acid rage running your veins. You felt like being mocked on.

“A little feisty, but pretty.” Taehyung sat beside you on the couch, his forehead dripping a little bit of blood. You smiled wide at his wound.

“Did it hurt?” You pointed to his forehead, he simply nodded with the corner of his lips curling down.

“Good,” you grinned with hatred.

“Now now, no need to be mean to our Taetae.” Jimin squatted before you, stroking your cheek even when you flinched your face away with disgust.

“No need to be fucking weirdos either, if you want to kill me do it already.” And then you literally spat on Jimin’s face, but to your horror and disgust he grinned wide tasting your drool with his tongue.

You wanted to throw up at the nasty sight.

“Sweetheart, we don’t want to hurt you, even less kill you,” chuckled lowly Jungkook behind you, his grip on your waist tightened a little.

“What? But Jimin said-“

“I didn't say anything, silly. You didn't even let me finish before running away,” Jimin sighed standing up, getting out of the living room and leaving you there feeling totally lost.

“Then… why are you guys doing this?” You whispered weakly, feeling way more unease than before.

“You’ll see.” Whispered back Taehyung near your ear, chuckling when you flinched.

And you did see it.

Jimin dragged your parent’s tied bodies to the floor of the living room, making your stomach sink with horror and dread.

“We came here to kill them.” Grinned proudly Jimin, kicking your dad’s side when he tried to wiggle out of his ties.

“Why!? Leave them alone they did nothing wrong!” You shouted at the top of your lungs, so loud that your throat hurt.

Jimin’s face morphed into an enraged scowl. He walked towards you in two large steps, gripping your chin up roughly. His jaw was set and his gaze hard.

“Shut up, before I cut your tongue.” He hissed with fury swimming in his brown eyes.

You whimpered afraid, recoiling into Jungkook’s chest unconsciously. Jimin’s always been scary when he’s pissed off, but never to this point.

Jimin’s face softened immediately at your fearful expression, you saw a hint of regret in his gaze.

“Hey, don’t scare her.” Jungkook snapped soothing you when you cried, he hugged you tightly. But his soft kiss on your temple didn’t comfort you at all, it only made you wailed harder with disgust.

“Puh-please just… leave us alone, what do you want?” You asked with labored breaths, you looked up hopeless at Jimin.

“Hyung,” warned Taehyung darkly. He sounded on edge by your cries.

“We want you.” Said Jimin with a cold voice.

“And we’re pissed at your parents for lying to you about us.” Continued Jungkook with a thick angered voice.

“So, we came here to teach them a lesson.” Grinned widely Taehyung like a sadist.

It was nothing new that your parents didn’t like your friends, they always told you to get away from them. You never listened to your parents because you thought they were saying bullshit, but you damn regretted not listening to them. They were right about these sickos.

“So you just want me.” You deadpan.

“Yep.” You listened behind you.

“Okay fine, do whatever you want with me. But. Let. Them. Go.” You gritted between teeth, pointing at your parents passed out on the floor.

The living room went silent at your words, the hush made you feel unease.

Jimin squatted in front of you again, this time, giving you the meanest and sadistic grin you’ve ever seen before.

“Take her up.” He ordered lowly, piercing his heavy and intimidating gaze on you, then his eyes dropped slowly to stare at your naked torso, gaze darkening and fixated on your chest. You felt your cheeks heating up by embarrassment, you felt self-conscious.

Your throat lump and your stomach turned when Jungkook carried you up to your room. Taehyung coo when he saw your silent tears streaming from your eyes.

Jungkook laid you down on the mattress rather softly, making your heart shatter. They were your best friends. The acid betrayal you felt burning your chest and throat was too painful to bear.

You weren’t surprised when you saw your SIM card on your nightstand.

“Stop looking so miserable, we’re not hurting you.” Jungkook said on the defensive. His scowl only angered you, but another part of you enjoyed to see that your disgust affected him.

“You fucking hurt my parents, chase me in my own house and manipulated me to let you fuck me! I have all the right in the world to feel and look miserable!” You felt your vocal cords ripping by your loud scream.

Jungkook and you stared at each other with labored breaths, you didn’t break your gaze in challenge, until you heard Jimin’s giggles.

“Tied her to the bed,” he said with a smile, making your stomach turn.

You closed your eyes, if they wanted to have their way with you, so it be. But you’ll be just a dull body under them, you choose to dissociate rather than to be present for them.

“None of that, open your eyes.” Taehyung growled gripping harshly your chin.

Your breath hitched when you felt a hand wrapping your neck, making your eyes open in a flash.

And the image above you freeze your entire body.

The three of them were staring down at you with hunger on their eyes, you saw their pretty faces coming closer to yours, smiling like the devils they were.

Ready to wreck you.

You can read the +18 continuation on Patreon.

taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @cutequeen00 @nothingsreal420 @ririkookiemonster-archives @cannotalwaysbenight @loumin908 @devilzliaison @uniquecutie-puffs @polarnightmyg

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jjbalice · 5 months ago

Text

A Night to Forget

Summary: Mingi wakes up to a feeling he's never experienced before, and he's pretty sure he's dying.

Genre: a reverse hurt/comfort Mingi x reader oneshot

Word count: 1 123 (8-9 min.)

Trigger warnings: descriptions of a panic attack (shortness of breath, feeling nauseous and scared, crying)

A/N: Somehow, the biggest struggle while writing this was the concept of puke bowls?? I thought that was a universal thing but once I started googling the proper term for it I found out it's not?? So if you're one of those people who don't have a designated bowl for throwing up at home, now you do, lol.

You awoke with a startle, eyes blinking rapidly as they tried to focus in the dark room. You didn't remember having a nightmare, so why were you suddenly awake?

The answer to your question came in the form of a sharp, deep inhale from beside you. Immediately, a shaky exhale followed, just as loud and forceful.

"...Min?" You called out quietly, turning to your right. You could see the rough outline of your boyfriend, lying on the bed with his back to you. The sheets he usually liked to bury himself in were pulled down to his waist, revealing his broad, pajama-clad back.

Despite the darkness, you could see his chest and shoulders rise and fall with every tight breath, looking almost painful with the clear tension in each movement.

You quickly sat up, leaning over to place a gentle hand on his hip. "Mingi? Baby, are you okay?"

All you got in return was a small, watery whine, making you that much more concerned. Worrying at your bottom lip, you leaned back to turn on your bedside lamp. With the room now cast in a warm, soft, yellow light, you shuffled closer to peer over Mingi's shoulder.

If the labored breathing wasn't enough cause for concern, the tears rolling down his cheeks definitely were.

"Honey please, talk to me. What's wrong?"

Mingi's breath stuttered as he tried to get his voice under control, eyes squeezed shut. "I- I think I'm gonna be sick."

"Fuck," you muttered, quickly straightening back up. "Can you stand up? No, wait, let me go get the bowl-"

"No!" Mingi suddenly caught your hand before you could remove it from his hip, grip surprisingly tight considering the tremors in his arm. "Please, please don't leave, I don't want to- I can't- I'm scared."

You quickly put your hand back on his hip, holding him securely while you lay back down. Even if Mingi's frantic behavior gave you an idea of what might be happening, it didn't ease your inner panic whatsoever. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I'm right here, alright? It will pass soon, don't worry."

Mingi just weakly nodded in return, clearly unconvinced. His breaths slowed down just a bit but grew that much deeper in turn. "Y/N, I-" his voice cut off as he choked on something between a gag and a sob, making him heave even more. "I can't breathe."

Despite the fear in his statement, Mingi's words further confirmed your suspicions.

"Honey, are you having a panic attack?" You asked softly, watching his body exhaust itself with more labored breaths. The sight pained you, but you knew you couldn't give in to your own panic right now. You had to be here for your lover.

"I don't know," Mingi whimpered, bracing himself as another wave of nausea hit him, "maybe?"

Okay, you should be able to work with that. Hopefully.

You moved to lie right against him, chest pressing into his back. The hand on his hip traveled upward, resting against his waist and stomach. Like this, your fingers felt every rise and fall of his chest, keeping track without putting too much pressure on his ribcage.

"Try to breathe with me, love," you whispered into his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. "I know it feels like you're suffocating, but you'll be okay, trust me."

Despite his inner doubts, Mingi replied with the tiniest "Okay". The room fell silent again, save for your slow, calm breaths and Mingi's hard, tight ones. For the first minute or two, Mingi couldn't match you for the life of him. Every time he tried to slow down, he felt like he was going to pass out, throw up, or both. Only after you spoke up again, whispering small words of love and encouragement, did his breathing finally start to calm down.

"There you go," you cooed in his ear. "I'm so proud of you, baby, keep going."

Mingi's heart warmed at your praise, easing the nauseous anxiety churning within. The feeling that he was going to throw up began subsiding, along with the tightness in his lungs.

"Thank you," he muttered a few moments later, relaxing into the mattress. At last, the worst of it seemed to be over, easing his panic about possibly dying.

"There's nothing to thank me for," you replied softly, snuggling further into his back now that he was less likely to be uncomfortable by your touch. "How are you feeling?"

He hummed to himself as he assessed his state, grabbing your hand on his waist to fully wrap it around his middle. "Definitely a lot better. It's still a bit hard to breathe but it's going away, I think."

"Good," you sighed into his neck. "I'm sorry you had to go through that in the first place, though. Waking up to a panic attack is anything but pleasant, but you did really well."

"...You really think it was a panic attack?" Mingi questioned, turning around to look at you. "I mean, it would certainly be one of the better reasons for why this all happened, but still... What is there to panic over in one's sleep?"

You chuckled at his question, squeezing him tighter in your hold. "I don't know, babe. You have been pretty stressed lately, so maybe something in your dreams triggered it, who knows. I'm just glad you got through it."

"That makes two of us," Mingi agreed absent-mindedly, too focused on the bright moon outside. "Not gonna lie though, I'm kinda afraid to fall asleep again after this."

The tone of his voice and the small chuckle told you it was supposed to be a joke, but you knew better than that. Despite the tough-guy persona your boyfriend often liked to put on, deep down, he was just as sensitive as everyone else, if not more.

"Don't worry, love," you consoled him, nuzzling your nose against his shoulder. "I'm sure everything will be fine now. And even if not, I'm right here to calm you down again. I've got you, always."

Mingi didn't respond for a while, too busy fighting the tears suddenly springing to his eyes. How did those few words from you bring him so much comfort? And what did he do to deserve such a beautiful, loving person by his side?

Mingi didn't know and didn't dare ask. All he needed to know right now was that you were here - with him, for him.

Please, don't hesitate to reblog or comment!! Any kind of feedback is much appreciated!! <333

#ateez x reader #ateez comfort #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #mingi x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #mingi fluff #ateez angst #mingi angst #mingi oneshot #mingi comfort #ateez hurt/comfort #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #atz x reader #atz fluff

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ericityyy · 3 months ago

Note

Hii i love your fics💕🫃🏻

Could you write a Nam-Gyu x reader story where the reader is kind of antisocial and doesn’t speak unless spoken to? Nam-Gyu is really curious about her and tries to be her friend. Over time, they slowly fall for each other in the games.👅

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘧, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘕𝘢𝘮-𝘨𝘺𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 (??)

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 844

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝘕𝘰𝘯𝘦

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

Nam-gyu is an addict, a drug addict to be specific. He and Thanos take a pill every day before leaving the room for the game. The duo is always seen laughing, jittery, and even dancing.

Y/N doesn’t get that at all. Her quiet nature helps her observe the other players and even the guards. She knows that getting attached to people here can lead to problems. It’s a matter of survival, and she’s willing to use everyone and anyone to get out of these games (that she agreed on, but let’s not talk about that).

While Nam-gyu is an idiot junkie, she catches his eye. Her number 123 on her jacket gives Nam-gyu the perfect opportunity to be close to her in the dorm room and especially during voting. Her red patch with the letter ‘X’ annoys the hell out of him, though.

The game ‘Six-Legged Pentathlon’ is troublesome for her. Her quiet and cold demeanor makes people around her avoid her at any cost. That is until a girl with short hair and piercings, accompanied by a timid guy, approaches her. “Would you like to be a member of our group?” the girl asks.

Y/N glances around, weighing her options carefully, and with a resigned nod, agrees.

“I’m Se-mi,” the girl nods her head to the side where the boy is anxiously looking at them. “This is Min-su.” The boy bows as a greeting. “What’s your name?” he asks, fiddling with his fingers.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, her face showing no other expression. She doesn’t have a chance to introduce herself, though, not when they are rudely interrupted by a purple-haired junkie named Thanos.

“Señorita, excuse me?” Se-mi and Min-su turn towards the guy, who has an arrogant and smug look on his face. His arms are crossed, and he tugs his jacket like he’s about to rap, which Y/N hopes he won't. She turns her attention to the guy beside the retired (failed) hip-hop rapper. He has long hair, and is jittery as always, following Thanos like a dog.

“We already asked someone else,” Se-mi says, turning back to the conversation. She just notices that Se-mi and Min-su have moved aside to reveal the girl.

“Two girls? Dude, we don’t know what the game is; this could be risky—” Nam-gyu starts, but Thanos puts a hand on his chest, interrupting him. “What’s your name?” Thanos asks Y/N.

She gives them a cold look, puts her hands in her jacket’s pockets, and sighs heavily. “Y/N.”

Thanos smiles. “What’s up? Nice to meet you, señorita. Welcome to the Thanos world.” He curls his index finger in front of Y/N, forcefully takes her right hand from her pocket, and daps her before giving her a shoulder bump. All the while, Y/N stands flabbergasted. “You’re cute, come on!” Thanos says, leading his group to one of the circles drawn on the floor.

Nam-gyu takes this opportunity to socialize with the quiet girl, who furrows her eyebrows at Thanos. “You are cute, he’s right.” Y/N raises an eyebrow at him, rolling her eyes before speeding up to sit beside Se-mi.

That was supposed to be the plan, but instead, she finds herself squished between the two junkies. One is quivering, and the other is doing some gun motions and muttering ‘bang, bang, bang.’

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

The journey back to the dorm room was silent with a few mumble by Thanos, the drugs wearing down. How did Y/N know? It’s because Nam-gyu kept pestering her with a serious look on his face, “Come on, you got to talk.”

Y/N sighed, speeding up her walk after seeing the door that leads to their sleeping quarters. Going to her bed, not noticing that Nam-gyu followed her like a dog, “Just talk. Give me something, anything.”

“Why are you so persistent?” Y/N groaned, glaring harshly at the guy who smiled widely.

“I did make you talk though.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't shake the small smile tugging her lips, “So annoying, go away!”

Nam-gyu shook his head, making his hair sway with his movement. “No.”

The girl stared at him blankly, turning her face away from him, not noticing the frown that set upon Nam-gyu's face. The latter held her cheeks, forcefully facing him again, “Don’t turn away from me.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, taking Nam-gyu’s hand from her face and twisting it, making the guy wince, “Or what?”

Nam-gyu smiled but winced once more when the girl twisted his hand more, “You’re so pretty.” Y/N’s grip faltered, giving Nam-gyu the chance to escape from her grasp. The guy took her shock as an opportunity to lean closer to her face, “I think we’ll get along just fine.”

She laughed. And it sounded so beautiful in Nam-gyu’s ears that it made him smile after seeing hers. “I doubt that.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

i hope this is good! first time writing for nam-gyu and tbh i don’t like him (HE KILLED SE-MI) but i like the actor, he’s so cute!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

nons

#x reader #imagines #request #imagine #squid game #squid games #squid game x reader #squid games x reader #squid game imagine #squid game request #nam-gyu x reader #nam-gyu #nam gyu #nam gyu x reader #player 124 #player 124 x reader #nam-gyu request #nam gyu request

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kookooluvr · 13 days ago

Text

Our Little Life - Part 1

moments in your little life with the man of your dreams, from the domesticity found in early morning burnt toast and bedtime kisses to late-night diaper disasters, passive-aggressive arguments about laundry, and him proving that married sex can in fact still break the headboard.

pairing: dad!jungkook x (fem) mom!reader

genre: fluff, smut, (angst is barely sprinkled in here and there), family!au, slice of life!au, businessman!jungkook, sahm!reader, lots of cute married couple moments

rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

w/c: 5.5k

warnings: takes place when little jungwoo is 22 months old, jk and oc have a date night for the first time since jungwoo was born, yoongi babysits, jungkook is a little nervous to leave jungwoo for the first time, some mishaps, date night doesn't go as planned but oc doesn't care, flirting, kissing, suggestive themes and vague descriptions of sex but nothing too explicit for now.

a/n: introducing our new couple; mr. and mrs. jeon !!! ☺️☺️ i hope you love them as much as i do bc they're just super fluffy and in love and there's nothing better than a man who is completely and utterly obsessed with his wife. let me know your thoughts on them and don't forget to like, comment, reblog and all the fun things 🫶🏼🌟

taglist: @khadeeeeej @yooniepot @lively-potter @yuniesluv @rpwprpwprpwprw @koosluvss @lovingkoalaface @vsr4197 @jkaxl @matryoshka-poetry @mimi1097 @vantelover1306 @milkk1400 @svnbangtansworld @dmblack7 @tropical-123 @123xxx0o @blluee1128 @forelmst @kiyomi7 @lilacstellar @hellokittykookies @kookooquette @madussthoughts @kskskskskskskskss @boraluv @slutty4jk @marisollll @senaqsstuff @heyitsroshni @euphorichaewon @palomanazareth @cabr1171

find oll masterlist here

You close your eyes, savouring the steaming water cascading over your shoulders in the shower, blissfully tuning out the squeals and chatter echoing from the hallway outside. Tonight is date night. It's actually going to be your first proper evening out alone with Jungkook in almost two years and you intend on enjoying every second of it, including the rare luxury of an uninterrupted everything-shower.

Outside the bathroom, however, is an entirely different story.

"Jungwoo, please," Jungkook half-laughs, half-pleads as he chases after the giggling toddler. He's already dressed in a black button up shirt and black slacks, his cologne wafting through the air, his hair styled perfectly for date night. "Daddy's getting tired, you gotta put on your pyjamas. Don't you wanna help daddy out?"

The little boy shrieks gleefully, running in circles around his room, his messy hair bouncing wildly, his chubby cheeks flushed. "Nooo!" His high-pitched voice fills the room, delightfully defiant.

Jungkook, feeling slightly out of breath, shakes his head, unable to hold back a smile as he chases his half-naked son. "Jungwoo-yah! Come on, work with me here."

"Nooo," Jungwoo giggles, shaking his head. He stands in the middle of his room, playfully wiggling his hips. "Daddy slow!"

Jungkook gasps dramatically, his hand clutching his chest in mock offense. "Daddy's slow?! Oh, you're asking for it, mister." He quickly grabs Jungwoo before he can run away again, swinging him around in his arms and peppering his chubby cheeks with kisses, making him squeal.

Jungkook carries him over to his bed and lays him down, attempting yet again to wrangle him into the tiny, light blue pyjamas decorated with little dinosaurs. "We gotta get you dressed, buddy. Mommy's gonna be ready soon and she'll be upset with daddy if you're not ready too."

"Play!" Jungwoo insists stubbornly, grabbing Jungkook's face between his small hands, squishing his cheeks. "Play, daddy!"

Jungkook softens instantly, his eyes crinkling affectionately. He turns his head to kiss his son's tiny palms, sighing softly. "Okay, let's make a deal. If daddy gets these pyjamas on you right now, we can play with your dinosaurs for a bit. Deal?"

Jungwoo tilts his head, thinking deeply for a moment, his expression so adorably serious that Jungkook has to bite back a chuckle.

"Okay," he nods, stretching his tiny arms up willingly. "Jamas, daddy!"

"Oh, now you want pyjamas, huh?" Jungkook chuckles, gently slipping the soft cotton onto his son's body. "You're lucky you're so cute, you little troublemaker."

"So tute," he giggles, his chubby cheeks puffing out, looking almost identical to his dad.

"You're definitely your mom's kid with that charm," he scoffs, buttoning up Jungwoo's little pyjama top before putting on the pants and smoothing down his messy hair.

Just then, the bathroom door opens, steam billowing out as you step out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, freshly shaved and exfoliated. You stand in the doorway of Jungwoo's room, smiling at your boys.

"Look at you two," you chuckle, watching Jungkook tend to your son. "Did daddy finally manage to win the battle of the pyjamas?"

Jungkook shoots you a playfully pointed look, sitting on the edge of the toddler's bed while Jungwoo climbs into his lap. "Don't start. Your son has limitless amounts of energy, you know."

"Daddy slow," Jungwoo chirps, giggling into his dad's chest.

"Hey!" Jungkook laughs, gently tickling Jungwoo's sides. He glances back at you with a soft smile on his face. "We survived, barely."

You walk over to them, clutching your towel to your chest as you bend down to press a kiss to Jungwoo's cheek, then to Jungkook's temple, lingering a second longer than necessary. "My heroes."

Jungwoo hops off his dad's lap to play with his race cars on the floor, allowing Jungkook to stand up and wrap his arms around your waist. "Did you enjoy your shower, baby?"

"Mhm. But it sounded like I missed quite a show."

"Well, next time, you get pyjamas duty," he smiles, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "He's a ball of energy."

You let out a soft huff of laughter, pulling back to meet his gaze. "I guess I'll have to reward daddy later then."

"Oh, I'm definitely gonna hold you to that," he murmurs softly, a mischievous sparkle dancing in his eyes.

You step back with a smile, gently squeezing your husband's bicep as you go. "I'm gonna go get dressed. You two behave yourselves, okay?"

"No promises," he calls out before scooping Jungwoo up into his arms, pulling a loud giggle from his son.

You make your way to your bedroom and start getting ready while they play. You dry your hair and change into your dress; the black one with the lace trim that shows just enough cleavage to drive your husband a little bit crazy. You apply your makeup and spritz some perfume onto your neck and wrists, when the doorbell rings downstairs. That would be Yoongi, right on time.

Downstairs, Jungkook makes his way to the door with Jungwoo in his arms. "Let's go greet Uncle Yoongi, hm?"

"Yoonie!" Jungwoo cheers excitedly, his tiny hands clapping together. He loves his uncles and aunts, partially because they all spoil him rotten. But who could blame them when your son is just so stinking cute.

Jungkook chuckles and opens the door. Yoongi is stood on the front porch, looking casual and calm as always, dressed in jeans and a hoodie, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, Kook. Hey, little man," he greets, a gummy smile spreading across his face when he sees Jungwoo's excited face.

"Yoonie!" Jungwoo repeats, squirming out of his dad's hold to hug Yoongi's leg.

"Thanks for doing this, hyung," Jungkook murmurs, stepping aside to let his friend inside. "You're saving our lives tonight."

"No big deal. I figured you two deserve a break," Yoongi shrugs, ruffling Jungwoo's soft hair, the little boy running off to the living room, looking excited to show his uncle all of his toys.

"Okay, so I wrote down some instructions," Jungkook says as he walks over to the kitchen to show Yoongi the piece of paper stuck to the fridge with a magnet. "I know it might seem a little excessive but he's particular about his routines and I don't wanna mess anything up. Trust me, hyung, one missed step and you're done for."

Yoongi's mouth quirks into a barely suppressed smirk, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he sits down at the kitchen island. "Instructions, huh?"

"Yes," Jungkook nods. "First thing, his favourite snacks. He loves apple slices, but they can't be too thick or else he won't eat them. They need to be really thin. Also, there's yogurt on the top shelf in the fridge, but only strawberry. Don't try the banana flavour, he hates it."

Yoongi hums in mock seriousness, nodding along. "Got it. Thin apples, strawberry yogurt. What else?"

Jungkook hardly notices the teasing glint in his friend's eyes, too caught up in his anxious, fatherly checklist. "Songs. For bedtime, it's gotta be the little lullaby playlist on the tablet. He'll let you know what he wants."

"Got it," Yoongi nods patiently, holding back a laugh.

"Oh, and his bedtime routine," Jungkook continues as Jungwoo toddles into the kitchen, his dad scooping him up and sitting him down on the edge of the kitchen counter. "He's already had his bath. He can watch cartoons, but bedtime is at 8. Make sure you brush his teeth. Also, he likes when you read to him, sometimes he'll ask for two bedtime stories, and he likes you to leave the nightlight on, the one with the little dinosaurs on the-"

Yoongi can't hold his grin from breaking into a chuckle. "I got it, Kook. Jungwoo and I will be fine, right buddy?"

Jungwoo nods enthusiastically, smiling up at his dad.

Jungkook lets out a little sigh and nods, still a little nervous despite Yoongi's reassurance.

You descend down the stairs, dressed and ready for your night out, catching the tail end of Jungkook's nervous instructions. You lean against the kitchen island, resting your hand on your hip. "Did he give you the full survival manual?" you tease.

Yoongi laughs, glancing over at you with a relieved look. "I think we're just about done."

Jungkook takes in your appearance, his lips parting at the sight of you. It's been a while since he's seen you this dolled up, and don't get him wrong, he thinks you're sexy even when you're in sweatpants and greasy hair in mom-mode, but seeing you like this is doing a good job of reminding him just how hot his wife is.

"I'm just...making sure hyung knows the ropes," he mumbles absentmindedly, his eyes zeroing in on your cleavage in that dress.

"I think Yoongi can handle Jungwoo for a few hours, baby," you chuckle, stepping closer to wrap your arms around his waist, looking up at him. "He'll be fine."

Jungkook pouts, leaning into you, his arms loosely wrapping around your shoulders. "I'm not worried about hyung. I'm worried about Jungwoo tricking him into letting him stay up late."

"I can handle him," Yoongi nods, chuckling fondly.

Jungkook looks down at you and sighs, dramatically feigning defeat before glancing back at Yoongi. "Alright, fine. But call us if anything happens, okay, hyung? Even if it's just that Jungwoo sneezed or something."

"Noted," Yoongi scoffs, exchanging a look with you.

You chuckle and press a soft kiss to your husband's cheek. "Ready to go, Daddy Bear?"

His lips tug into a smile, affection radiating from his eyes as he glances between Yoongi and Jungwoo. He nods, finally relaxing into your embrace.

"Yeah, let's get out of here before I start another lecture."

You pick Jungwoo up and give him a big hug and a kiss on his cheek, murmuring a soft, "Be good for Uncle Yoongi, okay, Woo-Woo?" As you grab your purse, you glance over your shoulder, catching Jungkook giving Yoongi one last concerned look, silently mouthing, "Thin apples."

Oh, how you love this man.

The second the front door closes behind you, Jungkook sighs dramatically, leaning back against it for a moment as you start walking toward the car.

"Are you sure Yoongi can handle him?" he asks, anxiety sneaking back into his tone. "I mean, Jungwoo can be a menace."

You laugh, gently tugging his sleeve to pull him away from the house. "Yoongi lived with Hobi and Joon for five years. Babysitting Jungwoo should be a piece of cake in comparison."

"I guess that's true," Jungkook chuckles, following you to the car. He opens your door for you, leaning in closely as you settle in. He presses a kiss to your cheek and closes the door before jogging around the car. You watch fondly, feeling a little flutter of excitement as he slides into the driver's seat and turns the car on.

Once the engine hums to life, Jungkook glances over at you, his eyes trailing over your face illuminated by the streetlight. "You look gorgeous, by the way."

You smile shyly, cheeks flushing under his gaze. Even after years of marriage and a baby, he still manages to make you feel all giddy and mushy inside. A simple compliment from him has your face flushing and your heart racing.

"You look pretty good yourself, Mr. Jeon."

His eyebrow quirks up as he backs out of the driveway. "Careful, baby. You keep calling me Mr. Jeon and we might not even make it to dinner."

"Promises, promises," you tease, reaching out to gently trail your fingers along the back of his hand on the gear shift. Your smile softens, gazing at him thoughtfully. "It's been way too long since we've done this. I'm excited."

Jungkook hums, keeping his eyes ahead of him while he turns on the radio. "Yeah, we used to do date nights almost every weekend."

Yeah," you smile, feeling nostalgic. "Now date night is microwaving leftover chicken nuggets and watching cartoons at 2 a.m."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with reheated chicken nuggets," Jungkook retorts playfully, shooting you a smirk before returning his attention to the road. "But I definitely prefer you in this dress over my old hoodies."

"Really? You don't like the ketchup stains? That's kinda become my thing lately."

He scoffs, shaking his head in amusement. "You could wear a potato sack and I'd still think you're hot."

Your laughter fills the car, bright and melodic. You lean closer, voice dropping to a playful whisper, "Is that a kink confession? Do potato sacks get you off?"

"Shush," he laughs, cheeks flushed, clearly flustered by your teasing. "I'm just saying you're unfairly beautiful, okay? Stop bullying your husband."

"I'm sorry, baby. You know I love you," you murmur sweetly, your fingers lightly trailing up along his thigh, watching his muscles visibly tense, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Better?"

"Worse, baby" he groans, shifting in his seat. "You're cruel."

"You love it," you tease, eyes glinting mischievously. "Admit it."

His lips quirk up into a soft smile, glancing over at you, his eyes laced with affection. "Yeah. Maybe I do."

A comfortable silence falls between you for a moment, the radio playing quietly in the background. Jungkook takes your hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, bringing back memories of the dates he took you on back when you were younger, those nights you both spent shyly falling in love.

"I love Woo-Woo with all my heart, but...I missed these moments," you sigh, breaking the silence. "Y'know, when we're just us, not mom and dad."

"Yeah, me too," he murmurs softly, glancing at you with such soft intensity it sends warmth rushing through your chest. "You think he would notice if we made this a weekly thing?"

"Absolutely," you laugh. "And he'd probably guilt-trip you for not taking him on a date as well."

"Yeah," Jungkook chuckles softly. "Little guy learned from the best."

You feign shock. "Me? Are you accusing me of manipulation?"

"Not accusing. Complimenting," he teases, squeezing your hand gently. "You're very persuasive."

"Good save," you laugh, leaning across the console to press a tender kiss against his cheek. Your lips linger, warmth radiating between you both. "Almost just threw away your bedroom privileges."

Jungkook's eyebrows raise, a slow, suggestive smile spreading across his face. "Do I get bedroom privileges tonight?"

"Depends," you grin, reaching out to absentmindedly play with the hair at the back of his neck. "You can do whatever you want to me in the bedroom if this date goes well."

He groans, his eyes briefly flickering over to you before returning to the road. "You're gonna make me crash this car."

You pull your hand away, resting in back in your lap, biting back a satisfied grin. "Sorry. I'll behave until after dinner."

"Good," he scoffs. "I don't think this restaurant would appreciate me showing up hard as a rock."

You snort, looking out the car's window, watching the buildings as you pass by. "Is it fancy?"

"Oh yeah. Booked it a week ago," Jungkook nods proudly. "I heard they have great reviews. Candlelit tables, expensive wine, we're going all out tonight."

Your smile grows wider as you look over at him, feeling touched by the amount of effort he put into date night. "Look at you, Mr. Romance."

He shoots you a smirk, looking rather smug. "Husband of the Year, huh?"

You roll your eyes. "You're lucky I love you."

He smiles tenderly, his voice dropping to a soft, sincere murmur. "I love you more, you know. Even more than back when we first started dating." He stops at a red light, giving you his full attention, his eyes sparkling in the low light of the car. He leans in close, his face inches from yours.

You meet him halfway, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He deepens the kiss, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his eyes fluttering shut. The kiss leaves you breathless, your heart pounding as he slips his tongue into your mouth. It gets heated before you break away, looking like a flustered teenage girl again. "Light's green."

He chuckles softly, turning back to the road, visibly proud of himself. "Fine. To be continued."

You lean back, cheeks warm, heart full. You've missed this so much. Missed him, missed the playful flirting and teasing, the effortless chemistry that makes your marriage feel so vibrant and alive.

Tonight is already perfect, and dinner hasn't even started yet. At least, that's what you think.

Jungkook leads you into the cozy, dimly lit restaurant, your excitement growing at the romantic ambiance, the soft music drifting through the air, candlelit tables creating the perfect atmosphere for your long-awaited night together.

He confidently steps up to the hostess podium, giving the young woman behind it a charming smile.

"Reservation for Jeon Jungkook, please," he says, resting his hand at the base of your spine.

The hostess nods politely, tapping something into her tablet before her expression falters. Her eyes nervously flicker from the screen back up to Jungkook, a flush creeping onto her cheeks.

"Um, I'm really sorry, sir, but..." she hesitates, clearly uncomfortable. "It looks like we've accidentally double-booked your table. It seems we don't have any...availability right now."

Jungkook's smile falters, replaced with confusion. "What do you mean double-booked? I made this reservation a week ago."

The hostess swallows anxiously, shifting on her feet. "Yes, I see that, sir, but there must have been a system glitch or something. Unfortunately, we're completely booked tonight."

He sighs, clearly frustrated. "Is there nothing you can do? We've been looking forward to this all week. This is our first night out in a really long time."

She shakes her head apologetically. "I'm so sorry, sir. We can offer you a reservation for another day if you'd like-"

"That won't really help right now, will it?" he interrupts, clearly annoyed.

You gently stroke his forearm, remaining calm. "Hey, it’s okay, baby. It's not her fault."

He looks down at you, his eyes softening immediately. "But this was supposed to be special."

"It still is," you reassure him, not seeming too bothered by the mishap. "Let's just find somewhere else to eat. It's okay, really."

Jungkook sighs, his shoulders dropping. He gives you a small nod, turning back to the hostess. "Sorry, it's just...we have a toddler, we don't get to do this often."

She gives him an apologetic smile. "I completely understand, sir. Again, I'm very sorry about the mix-up."

"It's okay. Thank you anyway," he mutters, giving her a weak smile before guiding you to the exit. He sighs, clearly disappointed. "I can't believe it. This was supposed to be really fancy and romantic."

You give him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand while you walk. "It's still romantic as long as I'm with you. Let's just try somewhere else. Maybe that nice Japanese restaurant downtown."

He smiles faintly, lacing his fingers with yours. "Fine, but I'm leaving them a one-star review."

"You will not," you laugh, lightly nudging him with your shoulder as you head through the exit.

He stops you on the sidewalk outside, letting go of your hand to wrap his arms around your waist. "I swear, I had this night perfectly planned out. I'm sorry it's off to a bad start."

"Hey, don't apologize," you shake your head, but before you can continue, a sudden clap of thunder cracks loudly above you, making you both jump in surprise.

"Oh no," Jungkook groans, glancing up just as the skies open, heavy rain pouring down and instantly soaking you both.

"Perfect timing!" you laugh, shrieking as cold raindrops splash against your skin. Jungkook quickly pulls you into his chest, attempting to shield you, though he's just as soaked as you are.

"Run!" he shouts through his laughter, grabbing your hand and dashing toward the car. Your shoes squelch through rapidly forming puddles as you race across the parking lot, both giggling breathlessly.

You both scramble into the car, completely drenched and panting for air. Jungkook stares at you for a moment, hair plastered to his forehead, shirt sticking to his skin. You look equally ridiculous, makeup slightly smudged, dress clinging uncomfortably.

"This is officially a disaster," Jungkook sighs, his head falling back against the seat.

"A memorable disaster, though," you chuckle, squeezing water out of your hair. "We'll never forget it, that's for sure."

He glances at you, his eyes containing amusement despite the chaos. "How are you still optimistic right now?"

"Someone has to be," you shrug.

He sighs, feeling determined to recover some dignity. "Alright, plan B. I'll check if the Japanese restaurant has a reservation for us."

You smile encouragingly, watching him fiddle with his phone, taking a few minutes to check if the Japanese restaurant has any availability. After a few moments, though, he tosses it back into his lap with an exasperated groan.

"Everything's either closed or booked solid," he mutters, looking defeated once more. "So much for date night."

You reach over to him, gently pushing some wet strands of hair from his forehead, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Come on, it's not a total loss yet."

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. "You sure about that?"

Your smile grows more genuine, leaning over to kiss his wet cheek. "Yeah, because I know exactly how to fix this."

"How?" he asks, looking wary but amused.

"Fast-food date," you announce proudly. "Let's just go and get burgers and have a car picnic."

He sighs, his face twisting into a defeated smile.

Twenty minutes later, you find yourselves in a brightly lit fast-food drive-through, Jungkook ordering your meals into the speaker.

"Can I get two double cheeseburgers, two large fries, and two strawberry milkshakes, please," he calls out into the intercom before driving to the next window to pay, stealing a glance at you with a cheeky grin. "Only the best fine dining for my lady."

You giggle, fondly rolling your eyes.

After the food arrives, Jungkook parks in the dimly lit parking lot, the rain pattering against the car's windshield. "Your romantic dinner, madame," he quips as he hands you your food.

You unwrap your burger, taking a bite and sighing happily, your cheeks stuffed. "Honestly? I wouldn't trade this for anything right now."

He takes a bite of his own burger and beams at you, his shoulders finally relaxing now that he knows you're not disappointed. "Really?"

"Really," you nod, popping a fry into your mouth. "It feels like we're teenagers again, taking late night drives to eat greasy food."

He laughs, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I guess. It's just too bad you didn't get to have the overpriced wine I was planning on ordering at that restaurant."

"Overpriced? I'm glad I didn't get to have it," you scoff. "Tell me, what would have paired well with the ravioli I never got to eat?"

"Easy," he shrugs, licking some smudged sauce from his thumb. "That cheap red wine we used to buy back in uni. The one with the twist cap that we always struggled to open."

You burst out laughing, thinking back to the days when drinking red wine made you feel rich and fancy, even if it tasted less than mediocre. "God, that stuff tasted like bad grape juice and...regret," you chuckle.

"And yet, you said yes to marrying me after drinking a bottle of it," he teases, grinning from ear to ear. "So clearly it got the job done."

There's something so comforting about sitting in the car with the rain falling outside, no distractions, just the two of you reminiscing about the start of your relationship.

"Remember when we moved in together?" you ask, popping a fry into your mouth.

Jungkook groans dramatically. "You mean when we realized neither of us knew how to install curtains or assemble IKEA furniture?"

You snort. "And yet, we survived."

"Barely," he laughs. "I almost broke up with you over that bookshelf."

"You mean the one that still leans slightly to the left?"

"Exactly," he scoffs, giving you a pointed look. "That one."

You both giggle like teenagers, cheeks flushed, hearts filled with nostalgia.

"And then," you sigh dramatically, "I blinked and we were married. And pregnant."

"You were a terrifying pregnant woman," he mutters with a snort. "Gorgeous. Glowing...but also terrifying. You once cried because your steak was overcooked."

"It was overcooked, I wasn't overreacting!"

"And you accused me of breathing too loud during your third trimester."

"You were breathing loud!" you gasp, laughing so hard it makes your stomach ache.

"I was asleep!" he exclaims, but he's laughing too, head tipped back against the seat. "Man, you were so pregnant. Like, full power, final boss level."

You wipe your eyes, still chuckling. "But you were so patient with me."

"You made it easy to be patient," he murmurs, his voice growing softer. "You were growing my baby in there. How could I not worship you?"

You smile, leaning your head against the headrest. "I still can't believe we made that little boy."

"I can," Jungkook grins, reaching over to intertwine his fingers with yours. "He's got your eyes, your laugh. My stubbornness, unfortunately."

"And your dramatic flair," you scoff, squeezing his hand.

He snickers. "Yeah, that too."

A beat of comfortable silence passes between you, full of warmth and love and fries eaten with interlocked fingers.

"I missed date nights," you whisper.

Jungkook sighs and lifts your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles. "We'll make more time, I promise. Even if it's just burgers in the car."

You look at him, your heart full to the brim. "As long as it's with you, I don't care what or where we eat."

He feels an immense amount of gratitude towards you for your reassurance. "I love you."

You lean closer, kissing his lips and tasting the subtle remnants of his burger. "I love you too."

"Next time, I promise I'll triple-check the reservations and the weather report."

"You better," you tease, settling back comfortably and taking another bite of your burger. You sigh contentedly, relaxing as the soft hum of the rain surrounds the two of you. Despite the bumps in the road, tonight couldn't feel more perfect.

You're both giggling when you approach your front door, soaking wet from the rain, shoes squeaking against the pavement. Jungkook shakes his head, an amused smile plastered across his face as he pushes his damp hair back and reaches for your hand.

"Well, Mrs. Jeon, tonight was certainly...something," he chuckles.

You lean into him as you walk, your smile spreading wider. "I had a lot of fun."

He unlocks the front door, stepping into the warmth of your home. Your eyes immediately fall on Yoongi, sprawled awkwardly across your couch, knocked out after an evening of chasing Jungwoo around.

"Oh my god," Jungkook whispers, holding back his laughter. "Jungwoo really wore him out."

"Poor Yoongi," you giggle softly, lightly shaking his shoulder. "Yoongi, we're home."

Yoongi jolts awake, blinking rapidly as he sits up, still a bit disoriented after his well-deserved nap. "Wha- oh, you're home."

"How was Jungwoo?"

He yawns, rubbing his eyes. "Kid's a tornado but we managed. He crashed about two hours ago. Honestly, I don't know how you two do this every day."

"You get used to it," Jungkook laughs, gently patting his shoulder. "Thanks, hyung. Seriously, we owe you big time."

"Yeah, you do," Yoongi mutters with a sleepy smile, slowly standing from the couch. He nods toward the stairs. "Anyway, your boy is sleeping like an angel."

"Thanks, Yoongi," you smile gratefully, giving him a quick hug before Jungkook walks him to the door. "We owe you dinner."

"Make it a quiet one next time," he calls out over his shoulder, waving as he slips out the front door.

Once the door closes behind him, Jungkook immediately heads upstairs to check on Jungwoo. You follow, stopping in the doorway of his bedroom. Jungkook wraps his arm around your shoulders, lovingly gazing at his son who's fast asleep, tiny fingers curled protectively around his favourite dinosaur plushie.

"He looks so cute like this," Jungkook whispers wistfully.

You smile as you rest your head in the crook of his neck. "Just like his daddy."

Jungkook laughs softly, turning his head to press a soft kiss to your temple. "You flatter me."

Once you've made sure the little one is peacefully asleep, he quietly guides you out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

"I'm sorry again about tonight," he whispers sincerely, leaning against the wall in the hallway. "I really wanted it to be special and not in a boring drive-through parking lot."

"Hey," you whisper softly, stepping closer and gently cupping his cheeks in your hands. "It doesn't matter. It was special anyway."

He tilts his head, eyes searching yours for any doubt or hesitation. "You're not just saying that?"

"Of course I'm not just saying that, baby." You shake your head with a warm smile, leaning up on your tiptoes until your lips gently brush against his ear. "Besides, date night doesn't have to end yet."

The corners of his mouth twitch into a little grin, heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. "No?"

You shake your head, fingers slowly sliding down his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing speeds up. "No. I'm still wearing this dress, you still look devastating in that shirt, Jungwoo's asleep..."

Jungkook's gaze darkens, a slow smirk curling across his lips. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, Mrs. Jeon?"

You tug at his hand, pulling him towards the bedroom. "Come find out."

He follows you wordlessly, lips parted, his breath catching slightly as he watches you saunter off ahead of him, each sway of your hips feeling deliberate, teasing. The soft click-clack of your heels, the occasional creak of the wood, it all feels amplified, every second thick with anticipation.

When you reach the bedroom and you hear the click of the door closing behind you, you turn to look at him, your hands reaching behind you to unzip your dress, already kicking off your heels.

"Door locked?" you ask, your voice quiet but suggestive.

Jungkook doesn't hesitate. "Locked," he whispers, already peeling off his soaked shirt and dropping it to the floor, holding eye contact.

"Still think tonight wasn't perfect?" you grin, slowly pulling the dress' zip down your back.

He steps toward you slowly, reverently, like you're something sacred. "It's perfect now."

You meet him halfway, your hands finding the warm skin of his chest as his lips brush over yours, slow, deep, aching with the weight of everything you haven't gotten to do in so long. He kisses you like he's starved for you, like every little glance and touch he gave you this evening built up the need he's feeling now. His hands slide along your waist, down your hips, and back up to slowly pull your dress from your skin, his tongue licking into your mouth.

"God, baby," he whispers against your lips. "You're so sexy."

You sigh into his mouth, fingers tangling in his damp hair. "Make love to me, Jungkook."

Clothes drop slowly, his hands never rushing, never fumbling, just steady and deliberate, like he wants to memorise every inch of you all over again. You melt into his touch, your back hitting the bed, laughter mixing with gasps as your limbs tangle beneath the sheets.

It's not frantic or wild like the times when Jungwoo goes down for a nap and you only have a limited amount of time before he wakes up again.

No. It's soft and slow, breathtaking, months of exhaustion and longing and love unravelling into breathless moans and whispered confessions against bare skin. He holds you like he never wants to let go. Thrusts into you like it's the most pleasure he's ever felt in his life. Kisses you like the world could end tomorrow and he'd still want this to be the last thing he feels.

He cums with your name on his lips and your nails digging into his back.

When it's over, he lays with his head pressed to your bare chest, your bodies feeling warm and drowsy, your leg draped over his hip and his hand softly stroking your thigh.

"I love you," he breathes out, his lips brushing over your collarbone, his voice coming out sleepy and blissful.

You smile, lazily playing with his messy hair. "I love you."

He huffs out a soft chuckle, kissing your sternum. "You think date night was a success after all?"

You hum, already half-asleep. "Rain, burgers and sex with my husband? Honestly...pretty unbeatable."

He laughs, holding you tighter. You both drift off to sleep feeling content, and even though the night didn't go to plan, it somehow turned into everything you both needed.

You look forward to the next date night with your favourite guy.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook series #bts series #bts jungkook #fic: oll #kookooluvr

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ivyfauna-ii · 3 months ago

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DONT VOTE IF YOU DONT PLAN ON REBLOGGING THE POST AS WELL

This is a message I’ve received from Samer after asking him how he was doing

Please donate to Samer’s campaign! Him and his family shouldn’t have to go through this!

(Tagging ppl so that the post gets attention. If you’d like to be excluded from the post let me know in the comments) @lesbianmaxevans @noble-kale @alpin-the-floof @lordzannis @skorchinq @marzanna6 @sillysaysnonsense @murderbot @good-old-gossip @rob-os-17 @myceliacrochet @revoltingcocks @awetistic-things @batricity @virovac @jdon @koheletgirl @jewishvitya @phantomkapok @madocactus @postanagramgenerator @laloward @fantasticfilmfanatic-123 @despairguitarist @mere-glim @kissthenova @nando161mando @kankri-and-the-altertits @golpfish @angelicdevil @a-shade-of-blue @sakurai96 @h0n3yk1tt3n @a-walking-fandom-reference @faebriel @monstrousdaughter @talacbagovt @bi-worm @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @primmsfairytale @hybridcrows @robotrebelranch @pallases @krystaldeath @sundung @feluka @handbagman @autumnrowancollector @nemovanilla @a-hopeless-aromantic

#gaza strip #gofundme #palestine #help yousef #please donate and share now!!!#In case you’re wondering: I did get his permission to share his message in this post #drinks #soda #water

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willowsnook · 3 months ago

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an experiment pt. 3

lando norris x reporter!reader

a/n: 😈

pt. 1, pt. 2

tags: @sarx164 @wildflowerrsszz, @jaematthews15, @opastries81 @armystay89 @hadesnumber1daughter @dying-inside-but-its-classy @chlmtfilms @freyathehuntress @ashley-k @charlesgirl16 @widow-cevans @cmleitora @rawr-123s-stuff @majapapaya4 @fullmugwolffish

-----------------------------------------------

Y/N: ABSOLUTELY NOT LN: non-refundable, sorry. See you tomorrow

You threw your phone across the room, furious. Hadn’t he done enough? You had your resignation letter typed out, for god’s sake. Begrudgingly, you moved across the room to find your phone, calling your best friend.

“What’s up?” David asked.

“Lando Norris is coming to Austin to see me,” you said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Wait, why?” David questioned. You could hear his confusion over the phone.

“I don’t know, he posted that thing on Insta and then texted me that he bought a flight,” you complained.

David snorted, "He posted that thing and then immediately bought a flight? Sounds like someone's feeling guilty," David said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You groaned, flopping back onto your bed. "I don't care if he feels guilty. I don't want to see him."

"You sure about that?" David asked skeptically. "Because it seems like you two have some unresolved tension."

"The only tension we have is me wanting to strangle him," you muttered.

David laughed. "Right, because that's totally normal behavior between two people who hate each other."

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn't see you. "What am I supposed to do? He's just going to show up here."

"Well, you could always not be there when he arrives," David suggested. "Or you could hear him out. Maybe he genuinely wants to apologize.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” you complained to him and you heard him laugh in response.

“I’m always on your side, but let’s just say that Carlos isn’t the only one betting on when you two will get together.”

Instead of answering you hung up, not interested in hearing what he had to say anymore. You groaned before pulling yourself off your bed to begin cleaning. Deep cleaning your apartment always cleared your head and it killed two birds with one stone considering that Lando was coming the next day.

Lando didn’t answer any of your texts the rest of the night and you started to convince yourself that he wasn’t coming which had you relieved. That was shortlived when you heard someone knocking on your door the next day as you were eating lunch.

“You’re kidding,” you said, shocked as you opened your door to see him standing there, exhaustion written all over your face.

“I don’t have the energy to fight with you right now,” he mumbled, pushing past you with his small suitcase.

“I didn’t invite you to come,” you shot back, following him angrily. He set his stuff down near the kitchen island before turning back to you.

“My guilt was eating me alive so I had to come,” he said plainy.

You rolled your eyes, “I would have saved you the trip if you just would have called.”

He gave you a pointed look, you both knew you wouldn’t have answered.

“Can I please take a nap before I read the apology speech I prepared?” He asked and you fought hard against the laugh threatening to escape. It didn’t go unnoticed by Lando who smiled triumphantly.

“Fine,” you agreed, showing him to the guest room. “Why do you have your suitcase?”

“I didn’t book a hotel,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Then where are you going to stay?” He didn’t answer and you furrowed your eyebrows. “No. No way. Do you not remember that I don’t like people staying over?”

“I remember every single thing about that night. In detail,” he shot back and your face flamed red. “We won’t be in the same room so it should be fine by your rules.”

You stormed out of the guest room and slammed the door. You paced back and forth in your living room, trying to process the fact that Lando Norris was currently napping in your guest room. This was not how you expected your day to go. After about an hour, you heard the door open and Lando emerged, looking slightly more rested but still jet-lagged.

"Feel better?" you asked, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice.

He nodded, running a hand through his messy hair. "Look, can we talk?"

You crossed your arms, leaning against the wall. "Isn't that why you flew halfway across the world?”

"I had no idea what was happening y/n, you have to believe me,” he said honestly. “I got rid of social media mid season because of the amount of hate I was getting. I’m so sorry this happened.”

“The things that have been said about me Lando…” you trailed off, resolve cracking. “How could I want to keep doing this?”

Lando's face fell as he saw the pain in your eyes. He took a tentative step towards you, his voice soft. "Y/n, I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen. What they've been saying, it's not okay. Not at all."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling vulnerable. "It's not just what they're saying. It's... everything. The threats, the harassment. They found my personal information, Lando. I don't feel safe anymore."

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and guilt evident on his face. “You’re too good for us to lose you. That article you wrote? It was brutal, but it was honest. And that's what makes you great at your job.”

You didn’t say anything but didn’t stop Lando as he stepped even closer to you, his hands coming to cup your face.

“I need you there,” he admitted. “I need you to keep me on my toes, to keep me accountable. Don’t let them win.”

A tear escaped your eye and Lando brushed it away with his thumb, staring intensely at you. You laid your head against his chest, taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you again.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you replied softly. Pulling away, you tried to collect yourself before turning back to him. “How long are you here for?”

“Couple of days,” he said sheepishly.

“You know I’m not going to sleep with you again just because you’re here,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“I’ll try not to be offended that you thought that was what I wanted,” he replied.

“Whatever,” you said, heading towards your room.

“Pain in my ass,” you heard him mutter under his breath as you left.

The next day was actually enjoyable, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You and Lando got brunch before walking around the city, you showing him the touristy sights.

As you walked along the river, you couldn't help but sneak glances at Lando. He seemed more relaxed here, away from the pressures of the F1 world. You had to admit, when he wasn't being an insufferable prat, he was actually quite charming.

"What?" Lando asked, catching you staring.

You quickly looked away. "Nothing. Just surprised you haven't complained about the heat yet."

He chuckled. "I'm not that delicate, you know. Besides, the company makes it bearable."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide your small smile. "Careful, Norris. That almost sounded like a compliment."

"Don't let it go to your head," he teased back. “What are we doing tonight?”

“Maybe just a movie back at the apartment,” you said. “Thanks to your apology speech, I actually will have to go back to work tomorrow.”

He grinned at you. “Glad to hear that.”

“Yeah my first piece back will be ‘Why Oscar Piastri is my pick to win the 2025 championship.’”

You squealed as he moved into you, tickling into your sides.

That night, you and Lando were curled up on opposite ends of your couch, watching a movie. You kept sneaking glances at him, noticing how relaxed he looked in your space. It was a far cry from the tense interactions you usually had at the track.

As the credits rolled, Lando turned to you with a soft smile. "This was nice. I'm glad I came."

You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest you weren't quite ready to examine. "It was. Thank you for coming, Lando. I know I gave you a hard time, but... it means a lot that you cared enough to fly out here."

He reached over, gently squeezing your hand. "Of course I care, y/n. Despite our... complicated history, I've always respected you. And I hate that you were hurt because of me, even indirectly."

“I appreciate it,” you whispered. He stared at you a little longer, his eyes flickering down to your lips before he spoke again.

“Sequel?” He asked and you smiled, nodding your head.

As the next movie started, he didn’t move back to his spot, instead staying very close to you. As you felt yourself drifting off, you snuggled into his side, much to his amusement. The last thing you remember was him placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, gently rousing you from your slumber. As consciousness slowly crept in, you became aware of a warm presence beside you, a steady heartbeat beneath your ear. Your eyes fluttered open, and the events of the previous night came rushing back.

You were still on the couch, curled up against Lando's side, his arm draped protectively around you. Sometime during the night, he had pulled a blanket over both of you, cocooning you in warmth. The TV screen was black, the movie long since ended.

Panic seized your chest as the full weight of the situation hit you. You had spent the night with Lando. Not just in a physical sense, but in the most intimate way possible - wrapped in each other's arms, vulnerable in sleep. This was exactly what you had always feared, the reason you never let anyone stay over.

Slipping out of his arms, you tried to calm yourself down as you headed back into your room. Your mind was racing as you showered, your feelings for Lando bubbling to the surface even though you pushed them down.

Lando was sitting up and scrolling through his phone when you came back into the living room. He looked up at you, face instantly scrunching as he saw you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing, what time is your flight?” You asked, without any emotion. Lando moved off the couch towards you, grabbing your arm as you turned away from him.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Is this because of last night?” He asked and you flinched, giving him the answer he needed.

“You need to go Lando, thank you for coming, but it’s time for you to go.”

“Wow,” he said in disbelief. “I’ll go when you can look me in the eye and tell me that all you still feel for me is hatred.”

“Lando please,” you said, begging.

“Why are you pushing me away?” He asked, frustration evident in his voice.

You took a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "Because it can't work, Lando. We can't work."

His eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "Why not? Give me one good reason."

"We live in different countries, for starters," you said, your voice strained. "Our careers are completely incompatible. I'm supposed to report on you objectively, and you're supposed to trust that I won't use anything personal against you in my articles."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Lando snapped. "Look at Fernando and Melissa. We could make it work if we wanted to."

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. "It's not just that. We're too different, Lando. We argue constantly. Half the time I want to strangle you."

"And the other half?" he challenged.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said.

“It does to me,” he shot back.

“What would happen if we were together Lando?” you asked tirelessly. “If your fans hated me for writing about you, how would they treat me for dating you? I’ve seen how they treated your exes.”

Lando was quiet for a moment, anger steaming off of him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally said, coldly. “I guess I’m not worth it.”

You started to call after him but he was already gone.

—--------------------------------------------

Lando’s season started off incredibly, winning the first three races all by over 5 seconds minimum. You would think that he would be ecstatic, his boyish energy returning to interviews and PR videos but that was not the case. He was pissed. Anyone that tried to talk to him was met with short answers and anytime McLaren made him do anything, he looked like he was being held at gunpoint.

He wanted to get over you but he couldn’t. He’d never had anyone challenge him the way you did and he could still feel you sleeping in his arms that night from a couple of months ago. His friends were walking on eggshells around him and Carlos was about to lose it.

“Please just call her,” Carlos begged, sitting next to Lando at dinner in Monaco. They had a couple weeks in between races and what was supposed to be an enjoyable break, was turning into a nightmare for Carlos due to Lando’s moodiness.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me, she made that quite clear,” Lando replied.

“She’s just scared Lando, she’s literally been checking up on you,” he told his friend. A look of interest flashed across Lando’s face so Carlos kept going. “Oscar said she asked how you were doing just last week.”

“I don’t believe you,” Lando finally said and Carlos groaned, resting his head into his hands.

You were miserable. The past few months since pushing Lando away had been some of the hardest of your life. You threw yourself into work, covering IndyCar and trying to ignore the ache in your chest every time you saw news about Lando's incredible start to the F1 season.

But no matter how much you tried to distract yourself, thoughts of him kept creeping in. The way he looked at you that morning on your couch, hurt and confusion in his eyes as you pushed him away. The feeling of falling asleep in his arms, more content than you'd been in years.

You knew you had valid reasons for ending things before they really began. The complications of your careers, the distance, the intensity of F1 fandom. But the longer you went without talking to him, the more those reasons felt like excuses born out of fear.

OP: Hey, you asked about Lando last week. Thought you might want to know he's in a pretty bad mood lately. Carlos is at his wit's end.

You frowned, guilt gnawing at you. Was Lando's mood because of you? No, that was ridiculous. He was probably just stressed about the season, despite his early successes.

Y/N: Thanks for letting me know. I'm sure he'll snap out of it soon.

OP: c’mon y/n, I know you’re just as miserable as he is.

You cursed your friend David who you knew told Oscar about how depressing your life had become. As you sat in your apartment that night your mind wandered back to that last conversation.

Why did you push him away? Because you didn’t want to get hurt?

The truth was, you were terrified. Terrified of letting someone in, of being vulnerable, of potentially getting your heart broken. But as you reflected on the past few months without Lando, you realized you were already heartbroken.

With shaking hands, you picked up your phone and dialed a number you had been avoiding.

"Hello?" Lando's voice was hesitant, guarded.

"Hey," you said softly. "It's me."

There was a long pause. "Y/n? Is everything okay?"

You took a deep breath. "No, actually. Everything's not okay. I... I miss you, Lando. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for pushing you away."

Another pause. And then nothing. He hung up.

pt. 4

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris

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