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𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ෆ

ෆ synopsis: kwon soonyoung loves too hard and falls in love too quickly, accidentally building a (very false!!!) fuckboy image that he can’t seem to get rid of. when his friends talk him out of proposing to a girl he went on 2 dates with, he finally realizes he has a big problem with love. signing up to appear on his university’s most popular youtube talk show to unload his baggage and fix his image? what could possibly go wrong?

ෆ pairing: college student! ksy x reader (gn)

ෆ genre: fluff, humor, romance

ෆ series warnings: anxiety/insecurities, cursing, food/drinks, ksy’s character is extremely 🥺🤧

ෆ status: completed

ෆ started: feb 1st - may 23rd, 2022

ෆ a/n: I noticed that i tend to write a lot along the lines of angst or serious/mature themes so i'm really excited to switch to something more relaxed, fluffy, and feel-good. this is 100% a comfort fic. please let me know if I missed any warnings!

wondernus main masterlist

profiles: [X], [X], [X]

chapters:

0. prologue

1. bag

2. wallet

3. keys

4. phone

5. earphones

6. water bottle

7. glasses

8. reusable straw

9. pens

10. notebook

11. planner

12. receipts

13. lip balm

14. snacks

15. trash

16. textbooks

17. hat

18. umbrella

19. reusable bag

20. watch

21. small pouch

22. vitamins

23. bandages

24. painkillers

25. perfume

26. hand sanitizer

27. hand wipes

28. tissues

29. ear plugs

30. toothpicks

31. cough drops

32. masks

33. spf

34. breath mints

35. folders

36. laptop

37. portable charger

38. calculator

39. charm

40. utensils

41. cushion

42. polaroid

43. dog treats

44. end

bonus chapters:

josh in vegas

himbos

them

[ 12:23PM ] “You did what?” Yoongi asked again from the other line.

You did a cautious glance around you, careful not to make your voice too loud before you answer his inquiry since you were afraid that potential nosy co-workers will be able to eavesdrop. “I put a picture of the two of us.”

“Where?”

“Beside my monitor.”

“With only you and me?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t speak for about three seconds, causing you to think of all the possible worst scenarios that could bloom from your confession in that short amount of time. “What picture?”

You cleared your throat. “In the steak house this year.”

Ah, the ever so famous steak house picture. When you uploaded that on your IG account, specifically as a story, you got a bunch of replies from mutuals, all asking if you and Yoongi were finally dating after being close friends for God knows how long. You couldn’t blame them for thinking in such a way, considering that your smiles in the photo were too big to not be suspicious of—not to mention your heads too that were pressed together as you sat side by side, actually waiting for your other high school friends to arrive in the restaurant you planned to meet in. Some may even argue that your arms were linked beneath the view of the camera or perhaps your hands were intertwined.

“____—”

“It’s just a beard,” you assured him immediately before he could protest.

“Huh?”

“A beard,” you inhaled, “you know… like a cover up. They just keep on setting me up with this one guy in the other department, Yoon. I couldn’t help it!” you practically hissed the last part, finally standing up and walking away from your desk to have some privacy.

“So, basically, what you’re saying is—you’re using me as a cover-up boyfriend?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah, basically.”

He snorted at the ridiculousness of your actions. “Why me? You could have chosen Taehyung. The both of you would look more convincing.”

“Taehyung’s seeing someone. I wouldn’t want to cause complications in case this backfires.”

“And you didn’t think that would happen with me too?”

“Well, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone as well,” you reasoned. “I mean, you aren’t, are you?”

“Nope.”

“See? How could you anyways? You’re a freaking surgeon. You have no social life.”

“Uh, rude. Of course, I still have a social life.”

“Just because you see inpatients almost everyday via appointments doesn’t mean you have a social life.”

Yoongi laughed, a low kind of one that inevitably makes a grin appear on your lips. “Keep that attitude up and I’ll break up with you.”

You raised your eyebrows at the retort, intrigued by his fast agreeableness. “Wait a minute, does that mean you’re okay with this?”

“With the whole fake boyfriend stuff?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s just a picture.”

“And also fake relationship stories—just a heads up.”

You could see how he might have rolled his eyes at that statement despite only hearing his voice from the phone. “Okay, whatever, use me all you want.”

You squealed, visibly jumping and swaying side by side in giddiness. “Really?”

“Sure. Ruin all of my chances of ever dating someone.”

“Come on, it’s just going to be for the meantime—”

“I’m kidding.” He cut you off with a snort. “Dating is out of the picture too with my hectic schedule. So, do whatever you have to do.”

“For real?” you exclaimed again.

He laughed at your reaction. “Yes, ____.”

“Ah, I owe you so much, Yoon!”

He fondly made a sound of approval. “Treat me to dinner later for the first installment of your payment. I have some spare time.”

“Alright. I’ll treat you to anywhere you want!”

“I’m going to hold onto that.” He chuckled. “Anyways, is that all you called me for? I have to attend a conference in a few minutes.”

“Yup. That’s all.”

“Okay. See you later then.”

You nodded, the big grin still on your features. “See you. Looking forward to it.”

Yoongi hummed in a soft manner before hanging up.

As you began to stride back to your workstation, happy because of the success of your plan to convince him to agree in being your cover-up boyfriend, you walked past Jihye, one of your said nosy co-workers who seemed like she overheard a part of your conversation, smiling at you.

“Was that your boyfriend?” she asked.

You placed your phone back inside your pocket, a new type of giddiness erupting inside your chest. “Yeah.”

“Ooh, are you two having a date?”

You nodded in a seemingly proud fashion. “It’s just dinner.”

“Still, I’m jealous.” She sighed dreamily and teasingly at you, causing you to chuckle while she went on with her agenda before stopping by to engage in small talk.

You stayed in your spot longer than intended, thinking about the events that may happen because of your desperation to not be linked to that other person in the office—but you didn’t really care, to be honest, knowing that if it was going to be Yoongi, everything was going to flow smoother than reckoned.

At least, that’s what you thought.

note. just a very short drabble inspired by a scene in yumi’s cell ! hehe

THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ! ♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

basketballcaptain!yoongi

→ pairing: min yoongi x reader

→ genre: basketball captain x water girl, cheesy cheesy stuff, the FLUFFIEST fluff, jungoo is an idiot, humour, nSFW = smut, cocky yoongi, spoiler alert yoongi does a body shot off of u it just be like that sometimes 

→ wordcount: 18.4k this will definitely make the app crash as per usual don’t come for me 

→ note: um can we talk about how attractive yoongi is when he spins a basketball on his finger like that,,, anyWays HAPPY DECEMBER (it’s my frickin birthday monTH) this is one day late and it’s almost 3am but i pulled thru and i was like i promised bball yoongi and that’s what i have 2 deliver to my children!! i hope u guys like this!!! pleaSE flood my inbox i love hearing back from y’all <3

pst if u wanna talk to y/n or kook or captain yoongs u know what to do ;-)

(gif isn’t mine!) 

(((and the read more function iS there but most of the time it doesn’t work on mobile :// i am sorry don’t attack me by sending passive-aggressive anon messages)))

somehoW someway jungkook managed to squirm himself into the upperclassmen’s basketball team which not only meant there that was no longer a water-boy but also that because of basketball practice you and kook wouldn’t be able to hang out as much anymore

and he’s used to seeing you every day because you’re his best friend okAy

y’all have been friends since the first day of uni during orientation when he spilt his banana milk all over himself and you immediately rushed over with napkins AND you gave him your chocolate milk instead (ur mom told u to seize all opportunities of friend-making and that was the one you happened to choose)

Keep reading

Without You (I Can’t Breath) (Reader x Hoseok)

Hoseok thinks that home is a place you can plot on a map. But he realizes that living by himself is lonely. he gets a new place and puts out an ad for a roommate- What he doesn’t expect is you- someone who has no knowledge of BTS- and he’ll do anything to keep it that way. 

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader 

tags: Domestic love, lonely!Hoseok, roommates for lovers aU, secrets, mild angst, sooooo much fluff, literally I gagged while writing this several times. implied smut. Hurt/Comfort

A/N: I wrote this instead of studying, I hope you’re happy because I’m probably going to fail because of this fucking au love me

Wordcount: 3.4k

-Hoseok and the rest of Bangtan finally decide to get their own places- and its one of the conditions of the renewal of their contract because a few of the guys have significant others now. 

- He passes up an opportunity to get a three bedroom with Tae and Jungkook, and decides to live by himself like Yoongi.

- At first he decides to get a big old nice apartment on the top of a sky scrapper. 

- Its modern and lit up, and everything he ever dreamed of having when he was a trainee. 

- But it gets really lonely really quick.

- It starts to feel like a cage in the sky- while everyone comes home to something- all he has is his view of the city and floor to ceiling windows that will never open. 

- He’s gone for ages- he can’t even fill it with greenery let alone have a pet.

- His penthouse doesn’t really feel like a home- after half a year he gives up one it. 

- He caves and asks Yoongi if he would like a roommate 

- “Hell no- we finally get to have quiet to our selves dude- enjoy it before you meet someone and decide to have a family.” 

- So he decides to move into this quiet space- but in a busier more grungy part of town. 

- A two bedroom above a coffee shop with a wrap around balcony that’s a little ways away from Bighit. 

- In a town where there are mostly bars and restaurants- the other apartments on the street catering to families or people that can barely make rent. 

- He loves it more than his penthouse- how he can sit out on his street faceting balcony and people watch until he feels like sleeping. 

- It always smells like baked goods from the café below, 

- The little bathroom leaves a lot to be desired and theirs a stain on the ceiling from water damage but he loves it. 

- It’s still too lonely though. The foot traffic only lasts till 1- which is nothing when he doesn’t get home until 12; 30 even on his less busy days. And he still doesn’t feel like he’s home. 

- After a drunken night and a little convincing from Seokjin he puts an advertisement in the local paper for his spare room. 

- He’s almost forgotten about it when he gets an email a few weeks later. 

- And he meets you in the café downstairs. A sweet student a few years younger than him looking to get their first place away from their parents. 

- He was worried that you would recognize him- that you could be a fan or at least know his face- but when he takes off his facemask in a moment of boldness he doesn’t get any reaction. 

- And he realizes that shit he’s lucked out- because you definably don’t know who he is- or who bts are. 

- You take a peek at his apartment after a nice conversation and almost swoon- because how the fuck is the rent so low when that place is so nice- and hella cute. 

- He watches as you compliment the bathroom and the crown molding- which he hadn’t even noticed. And he realizes how disconnected he’s gotten from the general public. 

- You don’t think much of Hoseok at first- maybe that he’s a little cagey and more than a little secretive- he wears facemasks everywhere and you hardly ever see him take it off if he’s not at home.

- His sudden hair color changes perplex you the most.

- At first you guys have such opposite schedules that you hardly ever feel like you’re living with anyone.

- Then Hoseok gets home at 3am to find you dancing in a extra large nightshirt and eating a tub of ice cream with the music blasting and he joins in- turning the music up ( the song was “fuck it” by big bang).

- It doesn’t matter that you can’t dance for shit- that you’re literally soo terrible- you dance with more energy and passion than half the idols he’s met. 

- Breathlessly you comment on his dancing skills and he just smiles and say’s “yeah I dance a little on the side.” 

- You never really ask him what he does- you just assume that it pays well after his entire closet is overflowing with Gucci and designer clothes. 

- Which you totally steal out of the clean laundry.

- Queue some small domestic spats about him turning one of your white sweaters pink with a Gucci sweater right before you wanted to wear it. 

- Which result in him letting you wear the offending Gucci sweater. 

- Which you don’t give back until a month later when he goes too your room and demands it back. 

- Your midnight dance party’s become more frequent- and when it finally gets a little warmer you guys take to drinking out on the balcony and watching the cars drive by and the glowing turquoise neon lights of Omelas pub across the street. 

- You talk about everything and anything

- Sometime you’ll walk out a 4 am and find something keeping him up- or he finds you working on an assignment. 

- And you’ll go downstairs to the café or across town to your favorite dinner to cheer him up with comfort food. 

- After a while Hoseok starts to realize that this is the first normal friendship that he’s had in a long long time. 

- Sure the boys are great but there are no expectations between you two- it’s just effortless. Your budding friendship only building when the both of you have time. 

- He doesn’t have to wear a mask with you- at all. In fact- it almost seems like you can tell when he’s hiding something. Which is something that only the boys can do.  

- And he’s not sure he would have this easy relationship with you if you knew he was an idol- so he does his best to keep it from you.  

- He wants too keep the little slice of normalcy he has in his little apartment above the café.

- The two of you Lying on the ground in front of fans with you when the air-conditioning breaks on the hottest day of the summer.

- Going on runs together in the morning on his day’s off. 

- Coming home to find that you made too much dinner. and him trying some to find out that “shit you’re a good cook.”

 - shy smiles and thankyou’s over communally consumed cups of coffee on Sunday's 

- Dance parties.

-  Finding your colorful socks left in the washing machine. 

- One day he comes back midday to find you just home from a run- and you’re making food while bopping to some music in a sports bra and a pair of shorts that look suspiciously like his.

- And he freezes when he starts to hear you rap part of cypher pt 4. 

- His part. 

- He yanks out your headphones when your eyes rise to meet his and he can’t tell if the feeling in his stomach is apprehension, fear, or longing to have all of it out in the open. 

- “I didn’t know you liked rap music,” he says mildly, trying to keep his tone casual. You just shrug and keep cutting up vegetables.

- “I just found this song on iTunes and it’s totally my new work out jam- Wanna stick around for lunch? I’m making veggie stir-fry.” He snags a carrot off of your cutting board. 

- “Can’t I’ve gotta get back.” You just shrug and put your headphones back in. 

- He confesses to the boys that you still don’t know who he is and they’re all kind of shook.  

- Half of them think he should tell you- after all you’ve found they’re music so you’re bound to get curious about them enough too look up their faces one day.  

- But Hoseok just can’t- he can’t help but think the knowledge that he’s an idol will change everything for your relationship. 

- And besides- he’s starting to get a twinge in his heart whenever he looks your way. And he knows what it means- even if he’s too stubborn and busy to confront it yet. 

- Surprisingly Jungkook understands- and advises him too keep it a secret. 

- So he does.  But it gets harder day-by-day. 

- He goes away for a short tour- and just tells you that he has to go away for a business trip.

- He gives you his number so that you can stay in contact about the apartment (in case there’s a problem or something breaks while he’s away for the month) 

- But he’s not surprised that you guys just end up texting each other every day

- You mention that you have a really big exam and that you’ll be up late that night and he calls the café downstairs and begs them to deliver- after all he has a tab racked up anyway there. 

- And you open the door too one of the cooks giving you a late and something sweet with a heart drawn on the back and just an “good luck –H”

- And you can’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. 

- And you realize that you’ve begun to really miss him when he’s away- and you realize that all the little gestures he makes for you. 

- When he comes back you cook together for a week- because he finally has time off and you have the final push before finals.

- You guys do everything together for that week. You watch TV. go too a few museums together, take walks at night when insomnia has both of you restless

- And yes- you have your famous dance parties (that have become almost routine at this point.)

- You even cuddle up on the couch together after a movie marathon. And Hoseok almost looses it when you fall asleep on his shoulder. His hands shake as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

- He never wants this too end. This quiet peace he has with you. 

- With you, he can take off his mask. 

- He’s always careful not too sing in the shower anymore- after all these months you still don’t know he’s an idol. 

- And he’s even more worried that you’ll find out one day. 

- You decorate the apartment for Christmas. With garlands, lights, and a tree in the corner by the water stain. He has a big-hit Christmas dinner to go too Christmas eve- but when he comes home he finds you watching a Christmas special on the TV. 

- You smile and open up your fluffy blanket for him and he sinks into the couch next too you- taking off his tie as you ask about his day. 

- Your legs are warm and bare next too his silk dress pants. 

- You hand him a little gift- wrapped in gold wrapping paper. 

- “Just a little something for being a good roommate, and giving me cheap rent.” 

- It’s a little bracelet with the Hangeul for hope attached too it. Small and silver.  

- His heart stutters- and you take his silence to be something bad. 

- “You’re always talking about hope- I just-“ “I love it.” 

- He looks up at you- realizing how close your faces are. He takes your hand in his. 

- “Thank you y/n- it’s perfect.” You just smile up at him.

- “I got you something too.” Really he’s had it for ages- since he first started to feel love sting in his chest and tug on the strings of his heart. 

- He comes back too the room too the announcer blaring into your living room – “up next a pre-recorded performance of Bangtan Sonyondan! Performing their new Christmas song!” 

- and he freezes because how the fuck could he forget. It had only been a few days ago that they had finished recording the special Christmas episode. 

- He thinks fast- jumping on the couch “your Christmas present is tickling!” and he tickles you until you can’t breathe around your laughter. 

- He barely manages to switch the channel before the commercial ends- turning it too a Christmas movie (love actually) that coincidentally he knows you love.  

- Your laugh fills his apartment as you cry. “No fair! I was watching that!” 

-  But you forget about it when he finally presents you with your gift. You open it slowly.  

- It’s a Gucci sweater- your favorite one that you always steal from Hoseok’s closet only this one is brand new tag still on it- the price scribbled out. 

- It’s easily the priciest gift you’ve ever received. 

- “Hoseok… this must have been so expensive” and you’re right- the sweater was several hundred dollars more expensive then one months rent. 

- Hoseok just shrugs and teases “now you wont have to steal them from me anymore.” And you pull him down into a bone-crushing hug.

- And maybe its wrong- maybe it’s horrible for him too feel something for you when you’re his roommate. 

-  Maybe it’s horrible of him to feel his heart beat faster when he’s been lying to you. 

- Maybe its because its Christmas Eve and he has no one but you. 

- He lies there for a moment. Him on top of you his head pressed into your shoulder.

- The length of his body pressed against yours- happy for another person’s warmth on this cold night. 

- He falls asleep for a little while- comforted by you, and wakes up to the luxurious feeling of your fingers rubbing down his spine underneath the covers.  

- Cuddles become more of a regular thing for the two of you even after this as the winter slowly shifts to spring. 

- He can tell when you’ve had a bad day- he’ll just pull you down, and you’ll do the same for him. 

- Your first kiss happens a few weeks after that- when you’re both cooking a communal dinner and he you just look so cute when you laugh after he accidentally flips some chicken from a pan onto the floor. 

- And he accidentally acts on his hidden feelings, pressing a kiss too the corner of your mouth so quickly. 

- You’re a little stunned but then you kiss him back. 

- If it seems at all possible you guys become even more effortless after that- pressing kisses too his lips when he leaves and the opposite. 

- It becomes natural for you too sleep in his bed. 

- But you don’t realize how serious you’ve both gotten until one month you go to pay rent and he just waves his hand saying- “don’t worry about it.”

-  You still both haven’t had that talk yet.

- You know the one where you define your relationship- this domestic love that is slow and lovely and so hopeful. 

-  You still haven’t told him how you really feel- and though he’s made his feeling clear too 

- You’re certain he wouldn’t put up with how needy you are sometimes if he didn’t want you around at least a little bit. 

- It still bothers you that you can’t call yourself his girlfriend yet. 

- But things pick up before you can talk about it- he goes on tour again- and he feels even more horrible for lying to you day by day. 

- And your finals hit- and everything goes perfectly until you get one of your grades back and you failed- like flat out failed the class- you find out at the worst time. 

- Hoseok isn’t here and as far as you know he wont be back until next week.  

- You’re crying in the kitchen eating ice-cream when he walks in his suitcase dragging behind him- tired from his 15 hours of plane flights. 

- At this point you’re basically balling about everything- you’re just so overwhelmed. 

- “Y/n’ he calls quietly. And you turned shocked. Trying to wipe away your tears before he sees.

- But he does see, and he wipes away your tears before begging you to tell him what’s wrong and you tell him about your exam and he listens too you through all of it wiping away your tears with his thumb. 

- When you’re done he just pulls you too your feet and takes your hand in his. 

- And leads you too the center of your kitchen- taking you in his arms.

- A hand rubbing the small of your back while taking your other hand in his large hands. 

- He slow dances with you- at 3 am in his kitchen. 

- There’s no music like usual- Nothing but his quiet humming. 

- You lean your head against his chest. 

- And you hear him humming a song you recognize- it’s a song by bts, 

- Which is surprising too you- because he’s only ever told you that he doesn’t really listen to them

- When it gets to your favorite part you stop moving.

- Because his humming- the pitch of it. 

- How his vocal cords wrap around the tune- sounds exactly like the voice that you hear out of your headphones. 

- You look up at him and he stops humming. 

- “Hoseok are you-?” you just trail off- when you realize that you’ve never asked him what he does. 

- He can see you slowly putting it together- his busy schedule- his cagey personality- his obvious wealth. 

- “Please I can explain if you let me, y/n just- please don’t freak out.” He pleads.

- And he sits you down before trying to explain everything too you. 

- You sit quietly listening too his story. 

- He looks at you with baited breath when he’s finished waiting for your response. “Please I never wanted to lie too you- but after I while I just got so scared that you would leave or move out-“

- You start laughing - and it’s a little funny the impossibility of this situation.

- The guy that millions of girls probably lust after just ends up being your roommate because you answered a misspelled add in the newspaper. (he was drunk- so you don’t blame him that much).

-  After you tell him why you’re laughing his faces looses his worried expression.  

- “How could you ever think that I wouldn’t want to stay- Hoseok I admire everything that you do- you work so hard and I’m just- I’m astounded I didn’t realize sooner.” 

-“So you’re not mad?’ you just grin at him and shrug “Maybe a little? Maybe I could see you perform and meet the other members as an apology.” 

- He introduces you as his girlfriend too the boys- and you love all of them and they all love you.

- By the end of it he can’t imagine why he was so worried about it in the first place because you’re such a natural at this. 

- Bighit talks too the both of you about keeping your relationship a secret- but it doesn’t seem too be much of a problem. 

- Life continues as usual- only Hoseok has someone to come home too and love him and it’s more than he ever hoped for in his life. 

- Dance parties start to end with your hips pinned against the kitchen counter and his hungry lips against your neck. 

- Shared Showers after dance practice turn into tender lovemaking. 

- Study sessions turn sultry when he pulled you on to his lap. “Come on you know it’s more comfortable.” 

- Everything is absolutely perfect. 

- You graduate from college. And Hoseok takes you to your first BTS concert. And when he gets off stage you’re just there beaming at him. 

- When he looks at you he realize. 

- Home was never an apartment above a coffee shop. 

- Home was you all along.

Bonus – during the performance you totally shout, “that’s my man!” when he does a hip roll you’ve seen him do a dozen times in your kitchen.

Inevitable (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, talks of insecurities, explicit sexual content (oral sex, fingering, making out, straddling, unprotected/protected penetrative sex but be safe please! specific warnings will be written on applicable chapters)

Series Word count: ~76.8k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: I love exes aus, and (athlete) dad Jungkook does things to me and after months of this little family living in my head, I finally got to put them into writing. So I hope you enjoy knowing them as much as I loved writing them 🥰 Also, my knowledge on baseball (and the MLB and the KBO) is quite shallow so for wrong terms and stuff… please ignore!

Prologue (wc: 2.2k)

Chapter 01 (wc: 6.9k)

Chapter 02 (wc: 7.2k)

Chapter 03 (wc: 7.7k)

Chapter 04 (wc: 9.9k)

Chapter 05 (wc: 7.5k)

Chapter 06 (wc: 7.7k)

Chapter 07 (wc: 6.6k)

Chapter 08 (wc: 14.7k)

Epilogue (final) (wc: 6.3k) || completed

masterlist

bittersweet | jeon wonwoo (masterlist)

☆.*+ seventeen social media au

★ synopsis: in which y/n and wonwoo are forced to share an apartment in secret.

★ taglist: to join the taglist, sign up with the google form!

★ genre: good morning call!au, college!au, roommate!au, enemies to lovers, fake dating, angst, fluff, comedy

★ pairings: jeon wonwoo x female reader

★ start: june 18th, 2021     ★ end: july 23, 2021

☆.*+ profiles

★ profiles 1

★ profiles 2

★ profiles 3

☆.*+ chapters

★ prologue pt. 1

★ prologue pt. 2

★ one. our love is real

★ two. spice tolerance

★ three. broken

★ four. photo frame

★ five. iced americano

★ six. chefs kiss

★ seven. the rules

★ eight. national treasure

★ nine. if you're happy

★ ten. dilf

★ eleven. you can be my teacher

★ twelve. 71%

★ thirteen. healed

★ fourteen. hot girl summer

★ fifteen. photosynthesizing

★ sixteen. love u forever

★ seventeen. under the moonlight

★ eighteen. anything for you

★ nineteen. is your boyfriend single

★ twenty. exposed

★ twenty one. for the better

★ twenty two. i'll make it up to you

★ twenty three. new addition

★ bonus! binki

attention pledis university !!  do you have something you want to say to a special someone, but can’t seem to find the right words or even the courage? why not anonymously (or don’t be anonymous, completely up to you) send a message and dedicate a song to them?  love on the air. airing every saturday at 1pm on pledis radio!

suhnshinehaos presents…

love on the air : a joshua hong smau

synopsis… joshua hong wants you to know how he feels about you, but god forbid he actually say it out loud. instead, he settles on the next best thing : dedicating a song to you every week on the campus radio. too bad you’re too dense to actually figure out it’s all for you.

pairing : joshua hong x gn!reader

genre/s : non-idol au, university au, childhood friends to ???, so much pining, fluff, a bit of angst, honestly so corny and cheesy just- beware dfghjks

will likely contain : food mentions, swearing (will update as i go on)

status :: completed !

—  parts + note under the cut

Keep reading

SOULMATES

"Sometimes my soulmate sings two songs at the same fucking time"

— genre: crack; humor; soulmate au

— pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: in which jungkook and y/n are soulmates and the random thoughts that occur in y/n's head are actually jungkook's thoughts, where he sometimes sings the weirdest songs.

— M a s t e r l i s t

1. the songs

2. domesticated wind

3. threatened

4. ugly rat brain

5. absolute dumbass

6. vomIT

7. i know a jeon

8. circus

9. walking sounds

10. adios cockroach

11. baby

12. soft on main

13. kinda poetic

14. wait a minute

15. babysit

16. sober brain

17. crusty ass joke

18. a clown would say

19. faint

20. in l*ve

21. a joke that's not a joke

22. throw it awAY

23. I am baby

24. soft hours

end.

thank you for reading!!

Pick You Up

Max Verstappen x reader

Masterlist

Summary: when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls. Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: alcohol, intoxication, maybe an unhealthy relationship with alcohol??, mentions of Max’s shitty childhood, incorrect taylor swift lyrics

It’s 1am, and your phone is buzzing on the nightstand. You groan and shove your face into the pillow. You were having such a nice dream. Something about an island and a very attractive man. You let the phone ring until it stops, and then you hold your breath. Maybe it was a butt dial. Maybe it’s not what you think.

The buzzing starts again, and you blindly slam your hand onto the nightstand, grabbing for it. You swipe to answer without even looking at the contact. You already know who it is. Or at the very least, who they’re calling you about. It’s never anyone else.

“Max needs a ride,” a friend of his says.

You’re already rolling out of bed. “Yeah. Where?”

You could complain, you suppose, as you pull on a pair of sweatpants and a jacket. You could ask them to find literally anyone else, or beg them to have a designated driver for once, but instead you just slip your shoes on. You rub the sleep from your eyes and grab a Red Bull on the way out the door. Someone sends you an address from a number you don’t even have saved in your phone. Worry claws at your chest.

The truth is, you’ll never complain about Max calling you in the middle of the night, because if he stopped calling you’d worry about who he was relying on. Max is… popular. He’s got a lot of people trying to ride his coattails. He gets invited to events and people buy him drinks and offer him things and then it’s 1am and he’s too drunk to get home on his own. And then he calls you. Or, more often, someone calls you for him.

You pull up in front of the club, and Max is already outside, stumbling on clumsy feet. He lurches towards your car when he sees it, which is a relief, because you hadn’t exactly wanted to get out of the car. You find yourself resenting whoever he was out with for leaving him all alone, but he opens the door and climbs in and you plaster a smile onto your face.

“Hi, schatje,” he slurs, and you muffle a laugh into your shoulder.

“Hi, Maxie,” you say.

This is the only time he calls you things like that. It’s also the only time you can call him Maxie without earning yourself a warning glare, or worse, an elbow to the rib cage. You’ve known him for years, and yet it’s only when he’s wasted that he doesn’t mind the nickname.

“Seatbelt,” you remind him.

He nods and tugs at the belt. You end up having to help him buckle- that happens about 70% of the time. His fingers fumble with the latch as you do so, and he lets out a little huff when you brush his hand away. Once he’s all set, you pat his shoulder lightly and lean back into your seat.

“I’m drunk,” he warns you.

“I know,” you answer.

“So no crazy driving. I don’t want to be sick in your very nice car.”

You laugh and cock your head at him. “This morning you called this car a shitbox.”

He nods. “It is. But it is your shitbox.”

You laugh again, putting the car into drive. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

He rambles the whole drive to his apartment, about all the people he was out with tonight and what they did and who they did. Drunk Max is a bit of a gossip, and his gossiping to you won’t get him in trouble, so he takes full advantage of it. You listen eagerly the entire time, though you keep your eyes focused on the road. He’s not the most drunk you’ve ever seen him, still too drunk to be in a cab or an Uber by himself but coherent enough that the journey up to his apartment shouldn’t be too difficult. You park your car in his parking lot and climb out.

Max is halfway out of his seat when you come around to meet him. You take his hand and help him the rest of the way up. He stumbles a bit, laughing as you catch him. Then he throws his arm around your shoulder and follows you to the elevator.

His head bumps into yours in the process. You lean into the weight of him, the two of you standing like a badly built lean to. If one of you topples, the other will too. You try not to think about that too much.

You stay the night, the way you always do when this happens. Because the only thing a hungover Max hates more than the sunlight is waking up to an empty apartment. You’ll be there in the morning to take care of him. He’ll promise he won’t do it again.

By this time next week, he’ll be out at a club, and you’ll have the volume on your phone turned up.

…..

The next time someone calls you on Max’s behalf, it’s someone you actually know. It’s 2am this time, and your eyes are closed. You’re drifting in that space between consciousness and dreams. Your ringtone almost becomes a part of a half dream before you realize what it is. You turn the phone over. NoRizzz, it reads. You think Max added the contact for you.

You answer. “Hi, Lando. S’it Max?” You ask.

“I swear to god I lost track of him for one second-“ Lando rushes out.

You pause halfway out of bed, feeling a jolt of worry at the frantic tone in his voice. “Lando?”

“He’s gone, he-“ He sounds panicked. “I turned around and he’s-“

“Did you call him?”

“Of course I called him-“ Lando scoffs. “Look, I wouldn’t be so worried if I hadn’t already been thinking about having you pick him up-“

“Hey, hey, slow down,” you say, though your heart is racing as you head for the door. “Where are you? How long has it been since you lost him?”

“We’re at Jimmyz, it’s been a half hour,” Lando admits. “I didn’t want to bother you, but-“

A half hour is a long time for Max. He could be anywhere in the city right now. He could’ve walked, or taken a cab, or… anything. Sober Max is great at self preservation. Drunk Max is easily persuaded. You’ve used it to your advantage more than you’d like to admit. Not in any bad way, just- Max, sing karaoke with me! Max, come dance with me! Max, we should order pizza!

You head for the front door. “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll come meet you, and then-“

You swing the door open and nearly scream when something heavy tumbles into your apartment. Someone, actually, upon further inspection. It’s Max, lit only by the dim hallway light and a beam from the kitchen light that you always leave on. He’s blinking up at you from the floor, a soft smile on his face. He has his arms wrapped around himself, like he’s cold. His skin is damp with sweat.

“Never mind, I found him,” you say into the phone.

“What? How?” Lando asks, bewildered.

“He was sitting in front of my door,” you answer as you crouch down. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, and Max smiles. “Must’ve taken a cab or something.”

“I walked,” Max admits.

That explains the sweat. That also tells you that Lando has lied to you- Max has been gone much longer than a half hour if he’s made his way here on foot. You choose not to call the other driver out on it, though. You want them to call you about things like this. If you chew him out, Lando will be less likely to do so.

“So he’s okay?” Lando asks.

“He’s fine,” you assure him. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You hang up and then start working on getting Max all the way into the apartment. He’s not much help. You manage to get his legs inside and then you close the door behind him. You’ll work on getting him out of the hallway next. For now, you sit down on the floor next to him.

“You walked here?” You ask.

He nods. “Missed you.”

You snort out a laugh. “You could’ve called me, I would’ve picked you up.”

He shrugs and shuts his eyes. “Didn’t want to bug you.”

“So you camped out in front of my door,” you say.

“Yes. But then you didn’t have to come pick me up.”

“I’ll always pick you up,” you say, brushing your thumb against his temple. “That’s what friends do.”

When he opens his eyes, they’re glassy. Your breath hitches. Max doesn’t get teary often, doesn’t get emotional often. Something aches in your chest. You rub your thumb over his cheekbone. He blinks once, twice, lashes tangled together.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He sounds so small when he says it. “Just. Thanks.”

There are these small moments, when Max shows a vulnerable side. These are the moments you think of when people spread vitriol towards him on the internet and ask how you could possibly be friends with him. They make you love him even more, and they make you resent the adults who were around him when he was growing up.

You’ve seen pictures of little Max, shown to you with funny anecdotes and teasing smiles. But when you look at them, and when you see him like this, you can’t find any of it funny. All you can think of is the other stories you’ve heard about his childhood. All you can wonder is how someone could’ve done those things to him. And then you wonder how despite it all, he ended up with such a kind soul.

Max is the one who brings you soup when you’re sick. He brings you trinkets from every country he goes to- the magnets fill the door of your fridge. Max sends you pictures of dogs he meets on the street even though he’s a cat person. He flies you out to races when you’ve had a bad week and buys you good pasta and better tequila. Max has a heart the size of a whole continent. People keep trying to chip away at it. You hate them for it.

So you take a moment to brush the tears from his cheeks. You don’t ask him why he’s crying, or tell him it’ll be okay. You just sit there on the floor with him in your hallway and wait for him to be ready.

Eventually, you get him up off the floor and drag him into your bedroom. It’ll be better for everyone involved if he gets a good night’s sleep in a real bed. You try to leave the room, but he grabs onto your wrist.

“Stay?” He asks, eyelids barely open.

You hum and brush the hair from his forehead. “Are you sure?”

“M’sure,” he says. “Don’t wanna be alone.”

You nod in understanding. You don’t even bother pointing out that he’s on your side of the bed. He’s too far gone to get him to roll over. You just climb over him and pull the blankets back and then tuck yourself in. You keep a respectable distance from him.

You know in the morning you’ll wake up to his arm around your middle and his face buried in your neck. You know because it happens every time you share a bed. Max will act like there’s nothing weird about it, will thank you for taking care of him, and be on his way before lunchtime.

You’ll crawl back into bed and curl up on your side, unsure of if you love or hate the fact that the sheets still smell like him.

…..

Charles calls you from Qatar.

You answer. “Charles, I cannot pick him up. I’m in another country.”

“Yes, I’ve told him that about a billion times,” Charles says. “He is very stubborn, you know.”

Something dawns on you as you sit up against your headboard. For some reason, you’ve always assumed that other people are the ones choosing to call you. That even when it’s someone who doesn’t know you, they’re getting your information from the emergency contact info in his phone. But this… Charles seems to be suggesting that Max has asked him to call you.

“Is he okay?” You ask.

Charles laughs. “He’s fine. He is a world champion, again. You know.”

You do know. You called and congratulated him right after the race. You can still hear the shake in his voice, the yelling of his team behind him. It’d made your heart ache, made you sad you weren’t there with him.

“Yeah,” you say. “You both still have to drive tomorrow, you know.”

“I do know, which is why I’m hoping you can help me,” Charles says. “We’re in his hotel room. His phone is dead, I guess? He came to use mine, so I brought him back here. He’s lost his charger.”

“There’s a spare one in his backpack,” you tell Charles. “In the small pocket.”

You hear the zipper and Charles’ amused laugh. “Did you pack his bag for him?”

“I helped,” you admit. “Let me talk to him and I’ll see if I can talk him down?”

Charles makes a noise of agreement. There’s rustling, then a thud. More rustling. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

Then, Max. “Hi.”

“Hi, Max,” you answer. “I thought you were going to take it easy tonight.”

“I am a world champion,” he says, so matter of fact.

In the background, you hear Charles groan.

“Yes, a world champion who still has to do a race tomorrow,” you remind him.

“I know. Can’t believe I got it in the sprint. A sprint I didn’t even win,” he says, laughing lightly. “Let the rookie win the race tomorrow. I’m the champion.”

“I’m going to throttle him,” Charles says, loud enough or close enough for you to hear. “I think in turn one I will run him into the wall.”

“Tell Charles if he hurts one hair on your head I’ll fly to Qatar and throttle him myself,” you tell Max.

Max relays the message. Charles is quiet after that.

“Doesn’t matter how you won it, yeah?” You remind Max. “You still worked just as hard to get there.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You say with a laugh. “Charles has plugged your phone in. Make sure you turn it on and then go to sleep.”

You call his hotel and have electrolyte drinks and breakfast sent up the next morning, along with a bottle of painkillers. He texts you a photo of all of it along with a thank you message. When he wins the race, even hungover, you’re not the least bit surprised.

…..

When Max calls you at 11:00 pm, your first thought is huh. That’s early. You answer on the third ring, already looking for your keys. You wonder who it’ll be this time. A friend you know, or an unknown voice of someone he’s only met tonight.

“Schatje?” Max asks through the speaker.

You nearly drop the phone. “Max?”

“What, you don’t have my number saved?” He asks.

“No, of course I do, s’just- not usually you who ends up calling me, even from your phone.”

You think you hear him sniffle. Something twists in your chest. Before you can scramble to apologize, he’s speaking.

“Yeah. Um.” He sighs. “Huh.”

You can hear it in his voice, in the way the words seem to stick in his throat. Something’s wrong. You climb off the couch, headed for the door. “Tell me where you are, Max.”

He sniffs. “No, it’s uh- I don’t know why I called-“

“Max,” you repeat as you shut the front door behind you. “Where are you?”

He gives in and tells you he’s at some hotel bar. You recognize it and head down the stairs. You keep him on the line even as you start the car, as you pull out onto the road. He’s mumbling something about how he’ll be fine, about how you don’t have to come get him. Both of you know you’re already on the way.

You have to go in this time. For a moment you think about asking who else he’s with, and hanging up and calling them. But you don’t want to lose contact, so you park the car and head inside. You’re in a hoodie and sweatpants, a pair of slippers on your feet. Nobody bats an eye.

You find him in a back hallway, squeezed into a corner. Your heart crumples at the sight of him. You’re sure your face does too. He’s teary and curled in on himself. He looks so small. You love him, you worry for him, you hate this version of him. Not that you could ever really hate him. It’s just that he looks so vulnerable, so unlike himself.

As much as you want to get him out of there, as much as it would probably be the right move, you sit down next to him instead. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him into your side until his head is against yours. You don’t ask him what’s wrong. He’ll tell you eventually. It might take a while- sometimes a few days. You always give him time. For now, you just sit in the hallway with him. You meet him where he’s at.

He tells you later that he suddenly found himself alone in the bar. After days straight of only being alone when he went to sleep, person after person wanting to celebrate his championship, he’d been alone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d felt like he was suffocating until that moment.

“I was one of the people celebrating,” you remind him as he clings to you.

“But you aren’t suffocating me,” he says. “You’re like… clean air.”

He sleeps in your bed that night. You sleep next to him, not even bothering to argue about it. You fall asleep to the sound of his steady breaths and the weight of his hand on your back.

When you wake up in the morning, he pretends he’s fine. You let him.

…..

Drunk Max is an overly honest Max. He’ll tell you anything and everything. So when you’re walking him home one night, his arm over your shoulder, gin on his breath, you’re expecting to learn some things. What you weren’t expecting, however, is for him to lean close, his lips against your ear, and tell you he loves you.

The odd thing is the way he says it. He leans close and tells you he loves you like he’s talking to someone else. He says “hey, you know-“ then he says your name- and then he says, “you know I love her?”

You shove at his side. “Yeah, I love you too, you dummy.”

He shakes his head, bumping his forehead against your temple. “No, I love her.”

Your heart stops at the way he says it. At the meaning he’s insinuating. Your feet fumble under you, but you manage to keep both of you upright.

“Max,” you say in a warning tone. “You’re drunk.”

“Mm,” he hums. “Drunk in love. Love drunk? Like that song she likes- got love drunk-“

He doesn’t realize he’s talking to you. He likely won’t remember this. You cut him off before he breaks into slightly incorrect Taylor Swift lyrics on the sidewalk. “That’s nice, Max. Why don’t you tell her?”

He shrugs. “Can’t.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and you miss your chance to prod him about it when he trips over a bump in the sidewalk and nearly sends you both flying. After that, you keep your focus on getting him up to his apartment safely. You shove him into the bathroom in his apartment and tell him to brush his teeth. Then you stand in the hallway and press your hands over your face.

Can’t. Why not? Does he mean it? Did he say the wrong name? He won’t remember it tomorrow, you know that. Do you bring it up? Maybe you should just forget about it. He obviously doesn’t want you to know. And even if it is true, and he does have feelings for you, it would never work.

He stumbles out of the bathroom and presses a messy, toothpaste-y kiss to your forehead. That leaves your brain spinning even worse than it was before. You follow him to the bedroom and tuck him in. The cats glare at you as you disturb the blankets.

“You’ll stay, right?” He asks, tugging on your arm. He seems to know who you are now. “Please?”

You sigh and agree, climbing into bed next to him. He sighs happily and rolls towards you. He slings an arm around your waist, and you hold your breath when he presses his cheek to your shoulder.

“Goodnight,” he says, already half asleep.

“Goodnight,” you echo.

You lay awake and stare at the ceiling for at least an hour, trying not to listen to the sound of his soft breaths. Trying not to think about him admitting that he loves you. Trying not to think about him calling himself love drunk. Trying not to think about him at all, which is difficult with him right there.

You wonder if he really meant it. You want him to mean it, you realize. You tilt your head to look at him- you can only see the top of his head and the slow rise and fall of his chest. God, you want him to mean it. There’s no way he does, but you want it so badly your whole body aches with it.

Sassy walks up to the head of the bed and curls up right next to you. You run your fingers over her fur. Finally, then, you’re able to fall asleep.

…..

It’s not often that Max is the one to pick you up from a bar. It’s every once in a blue moon. You’re much more responsible, you plan ahead. You have a ride home, or you don’t get so drunk that you can’t walk, or you plan to stay with a friend who lives closer to wherever you’re going.

It’s not often, but it does happen. Which is how you find yourself in the bar bathroom, phone pressed to your ear, praying he picks up. There’s a good chance he won’t. He’s definitely not sitting around, waiting for you to call like you always are when he goes out. If he doesn’t pick up you’ll have to call someone else, but you won’t even know where to begin.

It’s only when you hear his voice that you realize you’re not sure he’s even in Monaco.

“Hello?” He says. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, just- what country are you in?”

“What?” He asks. You can hear rustling in the background. “Is this some sort of code? Is someone-“

“No, Maxie, I’m fine,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Monaco,” he answers, still sounding unsure. “At home. Where are you?”

“Monaco. A bar bathroom,” you answer. “Any chance you’d come pick me up? My designated driver met a guy.”

“Not a very good designated driver,” he says with a scoff.

“Says the guy who never has one,” you retort.

Max laughs and doesn’t argue. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”

Max gets there far too quickly to have been driving at a reasonable speed. He insists that you wait inside rather than meeting him out on the sidewalk, and says he’ll call you when he gets there. The phone rings, so you step outside. You’re thankful once again for his collection of cars and his tinted windows- nobody seems to have realized it’s him. He leans over and opens the door for you, and you climb inside. He already has the heated seat on for you, and he hands you a bottle of water after you sit down.

“Drink,” he says as he pulls away from the curb.

You roll your eyes but do as he says anyways. The city is a blur of lights outside your window, though you know Max isn’t speeding. He always drives carefully with you in the car, no matter how many times you beg him to go fast. You sink lower in the leather seat.

His eyes flicker over to you. “Did you have a good time?”

You shrug. “Yeah, till all my friends ditched me,” you say. “They found guys to hook up with.”

You see Max frown out of the corner of your eye. “And you didn’t? The men in this club must be blind.”

You pick at the hem of your dress. “Maybe I didn’t want to hook up with anyone. Maybe that’s not what I’m looking for.”

“And what are you looking for?” He asks.

He keeps his eyes trained on the road. You turn your head to look at him. You’re at a stoplight, and it paints his face red. You study the slope of his nose, the jut of his jaw. You, you want to say. I’m looking for you. You think of him the last time you picked him up, how he said he loved you. Called himself love drunk. And then you think of when you asked him why he hadn’t told you. Can’t.

So instead, you shrug. Max turns and looks at you, then shrugs in response. You pout, knowing he’s mocking you. His eyes trace over your face, then over the rest of you. You wonder if he’s relying on how drunk you are to make you forget this- hoping you won’t realize or remember him checking you out. He reaches into the backseat and comes back with a large dark hoodie.

“Here,” he says. “You must be cold.”

The light turns green when the sweatshirt is half over your head- you only know because you feel the vehicle lurch into motion. You squeak, and Max laughs and lays a hand on your leg to steady you. His palm is warm against your bare skin.

When you pop your head back out and shove your arms through the sleeves, you expect him to let go. He doesn’t. His hand stays there, a steady presence, the whole ride to his place.

He hasn’t even asked if you want to stay at his apartment- he doesn’t need to, he already knows what your answer would be. Plus, you’re a bit too drunk to really be left on your own. He leads you up to his door, keeping his hand on your lower back to steady your wobbling steps. You’d tried to kick your heels off in the lobby, but Max had insisted you keep them on. You take them off as soon as you walk in his front door, though, sighing in relief. You stumble over to the couch as he sheds his shoes and jacket. By the time he walks into the living room, you’re curled up in the corner, already under a blanket, face pressed against one of his throw pillows. Max clicks his tongue.

“Come on. Up,” he says, tugging at your shoulder. “You should change your clothes and eat something.”

You groan and reach out to wrap your arm around his neck. “I’m comfy. Come cuddle. Comfy.”

He sighs. “We can cuddle. If you change your clothes and eat something.”

The offer leaves you a bit dumbfounded, because Max isn’t much of a cuddler. It’s pretty likely that he’s lying just to appease you, to get you to follow his instructions. So you continue to lay there, trying to pull him in. When you don’t budge, Max huffs, plants his hands on the couch behind you, and straightens up. He does it before you can loosen your grip, so you go with him almost accidentally. He pulls you off the couch and grabs your hips, helping you to stand up.

“There,” he says, as you sigh and lean heavily on him. “Step one. Clothes.”

He leads you to his room, where you eagerly take the opportunity to sit down on his bed. He turns and begins digging through his drawers. You flop back onto the bed. One of the cats paws at your ankles- you don’t bother looking to see which one. Max throws clothing onto your stomach.

“I’ll go make you food,” he says.

It takes you far too long to find the motivation to shed the hoodie and dress and trade them out for whatever clothes Max has left for you. Eventually, though, you do it. He’s given you one of his shirts and a pair of shorts that are definitely yours, likely left behind whenever you stayed over last. You pull the hoodie back over your head and leave the dress on the floor. It’s only when you remember that Max is awful at cooking that you scramble towards the kitchen.

He’s putting perfectly cooked ramen into bowls. Frankly, it’s hard to mess up ramen, but you’re relieved either way. He smiles at the sight of you, and you think about telling him all over again. The last time you were drunk, you said you loved me. I love you too. We should talk about that. Can’t. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Thanks,” you say, sitting down at the counter.

You never do get the cuddle he promised. You fall asleep there, forehead pressed to the granite, and Max carries you to the guest room and tucks you in. You swear you feel his lips against your forehead as you fall asleep. But that’s probably just a dream.

…..

By the time you’re in Vegas for the Grand Prix, you haven’t been drunk with Max in months. It’s been one or the other, not both. But since you’re there, Max drags you along to every event he gets invited to. You’re two drinks deep by the time Max makes it to the afterparty. He catches up quickly.

You sneak a sip of his gin and tonic and recoil at the taste. He gives you a blank stare in return.

“You’ve never liked it,” he says. “I don’t know why you keep trying.”

You shrug. “Exposure therapy. And my drink’s empty.”

He gives you a look that’s a mixture of what you think is exasperation and fondness. It’s his signature look when he’s dealing with you on nights out.

“We can fix that,” he says, as he reaches for your hand.

He leads you up to the bar, fingers knit with yours. He doesn’t let go like he normally would. It’s not uncommon for him to hold onto you in a crowd, especially when you’re drunk, but this is different. He leans over the bar and gives your order to the bartender, who nods and moves to make the drink. Max keeps his hand in yours. He finally lets go when you get your drinks, and you take a sip while you look up at him.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, blue eyes wide, and you’re trying desperately to read his mind. You want him to let you in so badly.

You end up at a table with him and his driver friends, squished in the booth between Max and Charles. You sip your drink and listen to them talk about race strategy and tires and Vegas in general. Max downs his drink, and someone brings him another. You do the same, and he gets them to bring you one too. And the cycle continues.

This means that by the time he turns to you and says, “we should leave now,” you’re pleasantly drunk, and you’d probably do anything he asked, really.

He slips out of the booth and pulls you along with him, ignoring the people who call his name. He has both of your jackets in his arm as he weaves through the crowds, holding onto your hand. It’s nice, to be here with him, to be a part of it instead of sitting and waiting for a phone call to come pick him up.

As the two of you stumble out onto the sidewalk, you tug on the back of his shirt. “Hey. Who are we going to call to come take care of us? We’re both drunk.”

Max turns and laughs, and then he’s quick to steady you when you stumble on the pavement. “We will take care of each other.”

You nod clumsily, leaning into the feeling of his hands on your hips. “Okay. Yeah. Nice.”

Max tugs you close, tucking you under his arm as he starts to walk down the street. “Lovely.”

“Simply lovely,” you say teasingly. “Where are we going?”

“The hotel,” he says. “I am sick of people.”

You deflate a bit at that. You’re not ready to say goodnight, to say goodbye, to be alone. You want to spend more time with him- it’s why you’re here in Vegas. Max seems to sense your change in mood and squeezes your shoulder, craning his head to look down at you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Do you want to stay out? We can find another club, I just thought maybe we could order room service, or pizza, and play a game or…”

He trails off as your eyes go wide, the hurt in your chest melting away. He cocks his head.

“I thought you were sick of me, too,” you say, and you bite your lower lip.

Max frowns deeply. The lights behind his head are blurry in your vision. You wonder if you’re just drunk, or if you’re tearing up. The way he swipes his thumb under your eye tells you it’s the latter.

“No,” he says, gently. “Never.”

Your lip wobbles. You shrug. Max seems to understand, and he just squeezes your shoulder again and keeps walking. You try to get your emotions in check. You have to, really, need to be normal about this. He’s just your friend. That’s all he wants to be.

“We could go do karaoke,” he suggests, pointing at a sign down the road.

He’s trying to distract you. It’s working.

You laugh and elbow him. “You’re an awful singer,” you tease.

“Am not!” He says, his tone full of mock offense. “Here, I’ll-“

You’re expecting him to break out into Viva Las Vegas, like he had at the end of the race over the radio. You’re bracing yourself for it, ready to grimace and cover your ears even though he isn’t really that bad of a singer. What he starts singing surprises you, makes you stumble a bit over your own feet.

“Welcome to New York!” He sings, and you stare at him, wide eyed. “They’ve been waiting for me- welcome-“

“Stop, stop,” you laugh, elbowing him as he attracts stares from people passing by. “We’re in Vegas, not New York! And you always get the lyrics wrong-“

“I am very good with lyrics,” he says, shaking his head.

“No, you’re not, you sang the other one wrong, too,” you tease. “You said got love drunk, it’s supposed to be got love struck. Remember, in Monaco?”

He stops in his tracks, his arm still around you, and stares. You stare right back. You frown and tilt your head at him, mirroring his earlier reaction.

“You remember that?” He asks, quietly.

“I was sober, Max,” you answer. “You remember that?”

He nods, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes are wide, cheeks pink. “I wasn’t sure if it was real, or if I dreamed it. And you never said anything about what I told you, so…”

That’s when you remember the other part of that conversation, all those nights ago. I love her. Why don’t you tell her? Can’t. You swallow tightly, hands hanging at your sides.

“You didn’t seem to know you were talking to me,” you explain. “So I figured it wasn’t something you really wanted me to know.”

Max blinks, then nods. “I didn’t. Because you don’t feel the same.”

Your stomach twists violently, and your chest follows suit. “I never said that.”

His stare is so intense you feel like you’re seconds away from bursting into flame. “But if you did, you would’ve said something after that night.”

You shake your head. “I asked why you didn’t just tell me and you just said, can’t. You wouldn’t explain any further. I don’t know, Max, I just. I figured you had a reason. Like, maybe…”

“Maybe what?” He asks, still staring at you.

“I’m just me, Max,” you say, pressing your hands over your face. “I’m just your friend. People get crushes all the time but it doesn’t mean you want to be with me, you’re a fucking world champion and I-“

He reaches up with both hands and grabs your wrists gently. He pulls your hands from your face. There’s a smile on his lips that leaves you teetering between relief and apprehension.

“But I didn’t say I had a crush on you,” he says, brows raised. “I said I love you.”

You sigh heavily and try to pull your hands back to your face. He doesn’t let you. You’re looking anywhere other than his eyes. Anywhere other than him, really. He lets go of your wrists and then cups your face in his hands before you can move.

“Hey,” he says. “I said can’t because I thought there was no way you’d feel the same.”

You stare at him, wide eyed, as his thumbs sweep soft circles over your cheeks. Suddenly, everything comes into focus, bright and blinding and stark. The Las Vegas strip is glowing all around you, but none of the lights are as bright as him.

“I do,” you murmur, and he lights up even brighter, somehow, when he smiles. “Fuck, Max-“

He kisses you right there, where anyone could see, in the middle of one of the busiest sidewalks you’ve ever been on. Nobody seems to notice or care, nobody seems to understand that your whole world is shifting. His lips are warm against yours, he tastes like gin, and he holds onto you like he’s trying to be so, so careful. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and thread fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He only pulls away when someone whistles at the two of you. He’s grinning wide, hands still cradling your face, and you have to fight not to pull his lips back to yours.

“Come on,” he says, slightly out of breath.

You don’t ask where you’re going. You just let him lead you away. You’re so in love with him, you think you’d probably follow him anywhere. It’s terrifying and relieving all at the same time.

…..

A week later, in Abu Dhabi, you ask him if he wants to go out after the race. There’s a billion parties he could choose from.

“No,” he says, wrinkling his nose up at the idea. “I’m good.”

You elbow him lightly, raising your brows. “All those parties you called me to pick you up from, and now I’m here and you don’t even want to go out? You don’t want to celebrate your season?”

He smirks as he tugs on the hem of your shirt, pulling you along with him through the paddock. “I want to celebrate, but we don’t need to go out to do that. I have better ideas.”

His hand slips lower from your hip and squeezes at your ass. You yelp and look around frantically, hoping nobody noticed. He’s grinning with pride.

“Party animal Max Verstappen wants to stay in,” you tease. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

He shrugs, leans his head close to yours, and then admits, finally, “it was never about the parties. It was more about who was picking me up from them.”

You smile against his shoulder and try not to let it go to your head. He smiles against your forehead and tells you that he loves you for what must be the millionth time in the past week. You say it right back, drunk on the feeling of it.

a/n: thank you for readinnnnngggg!!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 ― ♡ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

summary: jason todd was the exact type of guy you've been warned about your whole life, one that would stain you forever, lead you in the world of perdition... or that's what he seemed at least. you hated him, he hated you back, and nothing could ever make this hatred disappear. unless it was bite sized, weighted less than ten pounds and was a perfect mixture of you two.

status: ongoing

genre: romance, enemies to lovers, slow burn, unwanted pregnancy, with a bit of smut here and there

rating: 18+ (MDNI). Although most chapters are safe for all ages, many will contain 18+ content. Each chapter will be tagged individually, reader discretion is advised.

word count: 27,4k

warnings: contains themes of family abuse, sex, mentions of abortion, drug use, and others that I will be updating along the way.

links: general masterlist ; playlist

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱

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when you least expect, you're hurt somehow. at the hospital with someone you did not expect to ever be with, you night takes an unexpected turn and you're hurt more than you wanted to.

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a helping hand turns an enemy into a friend for one single night of truce. one single night that ends up redefining their entire relationship, the start of where everything is about to change.

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since your last encounter, jason has been living rent free in your head. you didn't want to, you needed more, and more found you in an unexpected way.

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you're pregnant. somehow, your baby daddy has to find out about it.

𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬

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