Multi-chap Fics Masterlist:

Some hilarious writing prompts

Alright so a few days ago I decided to look for some hilarious text posts on tumblr and I laughed so much I just had to write some prompts! (is possible to be customized) (Send me requests with 1/1+ prompt/s. I write about a lot of fandoms and also a lot of different things : one shots/scenarios/imagines/headcanons/chats/conversations/aesthetics/alomst anything) 

UPDATE 11.02.2018: I TAKE REQUESTS ONLY FROM THOSE PROMPTS THAT ARE IN BOLDED TEXT (like the text from this update.)

1. Do I look like I give a fuck? - 2. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on you again for taking advantage of my compassionate and forgiving nature! HOw dare you. - 3. Me? Overreacting? Probably. - 4. I used to be passive aggressive, but now I’m aggressively passive. Don’t mess with me kiddo. I’ll be right here. I’ll fucking forgive you. - 5. A: Whar are you doing? B: Avoiding. A: Avoiding what? B: Everything. - 6. This was impulsive. Probably shouldn’t have done it. WHO CARES? - 7. You’re really cute and it’s ruining my life because I think about kissing you all the time. - 8. A: It’s okay, I’m not mad.     A (5 mins later): Actually? You can go to Hell. - 9. I hate people who get personally offended when I’m in a bad mood, likeI’m not mad at you Susan (name), I’m mad at the world! - 10. A to A: Bitch, if you actually applied yourself in like…anything, you’d be dangerous ,damn my lazy ass. - 11. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but there’s a lot of it. - 12. Not to dictate your life, but drop your shitty friends. - 13. That sounds like responsibility and I want no part in it. - 14. Why am I better than everyone? Jesus, life’s hard. - 15. A: How do you make someone holy?       B: You beat the hell out of them. - 16. A: I’m amazed of how insignificant we actually are.       B: Not me, I’m important. - 17. If anyone can do it, then someone who isn’t me can do it. - 18. In the old days of one week ago things were different. Now look at us - slightly older than we were back then, other clothes and such. - 19. I’m not going to claim that I know everything, I’m simply going to act like it. - 20. You have to “see it to believe it”, so as long as I’m not looking I don’t have to believe in anything. - 21. I’m visualising a powerful mystical energy at the moment. - 22. If I don’t learn anything from my mistakes then I don’t have to consider them mistakes in the first place. - 23. Why the hell is there always this one weak bitch in the group that isn’t down with murder? No offence though. - 24. A: If you ever feel stupid, or weak, or powerless, just remember that I, am not.       B: THanks.       A: You’re welcome. - 25. I wanna do dirty stuff with you like farming. - 26. A: What are you reading?       B: 10 tips for beutiful hair the Government doesn’t want you to know.       A: wHAT the fuck? - 27. A: I’m tired of these constant near-death experiences.       B: (opinional) don’t be a whiny bitch, bitch. - 28. Man, how many eye contact until date? - 29. God has a favourite comedy tv series and it’s called “my life”. - 30. Sometimes all you can say is “yikes” and then just on the fuck on. - 31. Why is everyone having their mid-life crisis at like 19? - 32. It’s a beutiful day to give me money, honey. - 33. Women aren’t complicated, you’re just dumb. - 34. Well this social situation isn’t going the way I acted it out in the shower. - 35. No offence, but my favourite hobby is staying hydrated and beautiful. - 36. I’m actually pretty cool if you give me like 5 tries to get it right. - 37. Today I’m feeling cloudy with a chance of sarcastic. - 38. Be prapared to add a cute emoji next to my name in your contacts list because you’re gonna love me. -

39. A: Babe, I’m not grabbing your boob, I’m grabbing your heart.      B: That’s my right boob though.      A: Babe. -

40. Every machine is a smoke machine if you operate it wrong enough. - 41. What makes me feel like a failure the most is when I can’t remember the answer to a Harry Potter trivia question. - 42. I hate it when I’m really nice…And then people are just not that nice? Like what the fuck. - 43.Don’t look at me in that tone of voice. - 44.Is your name candle? Because I wanna blow you. - 45. So, was that just awkward eye contact, or were we checking eachother out?-

46.You know, having feelings is ruining my reputation of being a heartless bitch. -

47.My turn ons? Well I don’t know, maybe some fucking common sense. -

48.I may seem like an angry person on the surface, but deep inside I’m actually angrier. -

49.I ship me and that boat. - 50.Listen. I did mean to make you upset and I do think your opinions are shit. But you’re still my friend so it’s okay. - 51.Because my two moods are like glitter and death. - 52.My kink is closing the fucking bathroom door, because no one wants to see you fucking pee! - 53.If I go to Hell I’m gonna constantly torture everyone by continuously asking if it’s hot in here or is it just me. - 54.Oh my God are you seeing this shit? - 55.Graduated top of my class from Hogwarts school of bitchcraft and misery. - 56.A (shows up at your door 10 years after we had an argument): aND ANOTHER THING - 57.I’ll betray all of you in the Hunger Games. - 58.Well, well, well, if it isn’t my old friend, the dawing realization that I fucked up real bad. - 59.I’m a screamer. Not sexually, just life in general. - 60.I’m not racist, I hate everyone equally. - 61.Tell me I’m cute or something, so I can roll my eyes at you, but then blush when I think about it later. - 62.You know when your hair is greasy and it makes you feel so bad about yourself? And your entire life. Everything is awful because my hair is greasy. - 63.True love is having a crush even when he got a haircut you know. - 64.Emotions? You know, I just push my tear back into my eye and tell it “Not now, you little bastard!”. - 65.Are we gonna hold hands, or what? - 66.My soul leaving my body, but with one of those slide whistle sound effects. - 67.A: I love you.      B: What if I got a bowl cut? - 68.I should really stop planning my future around being rich or famous…but I can’t. - 69.I’m aggressively thinking about having sex with you and trying to keep a straight face at the same time. Do you know hOW hard that is? - 70.My opinion is no. - 71.Did you fall from heaven, because so did Satan and he’s hot as Hell. - 72.What to hear a fairytale? Once upon a time you weren’t such a little bitch. - 73.Which is messier - my life or my hair? - 74.How can you face the problem when the problem is your face? - 75.Sometimes I wonder what it feels like to know wHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. - 76.Read a girl who dates books. - 77.My hands are cold let me put them in your pants. - 78.I’m sorry, you must be at least level 4 friend to unlock my tragic backstory. - 79.My therapist once told me that I have this obsession with seeking revenge…we’ll see about that. - 80.You have lips, I have lips…interesting. - 81.Do my dark undereye circles and unwashed hair turn you on?

(This update applies ONLY to MY blog (aka Persuasivus) !) 💕

/PART TWO/ PART THREE /

bts drabbles masterlist 2

He Comes Home From Tour

A Valuable Patient Of Yours Dies

He’s Your First Boyfriend

He Drops The Lunch You Made For Him

Friends With Benefits

You’re Fearful Of Being Touched

Your Daughter’s First Day Of High School

He Calls You Clingy

Celebrating His Birthday

Baking Christmas Cookies Together

Watching A Pantomime Together

Crisis Talks

He Makes You Feel Bad About Your Weight

Cooking A Meal Together

Celebrating Your Anniversary 

He Forgets Date Night

You Break Up, But His Son Tries To Bring You Back Together (Part 2)

Helping Him When He Gets Embarrassed

You Feel Insecure About Your Weight

He Meets Your Parents

Seeing Him After Your Breakup

Headcanons:

Dating Jin Headcanon A-Z

He Asks You Out In College

You Write A Song Together

The Boys Visit Your Newborn For The First Time

Celebrating Their Daesang Award Win

Talking About The Future

You Suffer With Chronic Pain

Coffee Shop!AU

Helping Him To Tie His Tie

You Have Essential Tremors

Winter Mornings

You Think He Likes You But He Gets With A Different Girl

He Breaks Down From A Lack Of Sleep

Remembering When You First Met

Your Daughter Asks Him To Be Her Dad

You’re Admitted To Hospital, But You Don’t Tell Him

Giving Birth To Your First Child

Comforting You When You’re Feeling Low

He’s Scared You’ll Break Up With Him

Fans Are Rude To You At An Awards Ceremony

You Feel Insecure About Money

Surprising Him After Your Surgery

Taking Care Of His Diet

He Proposes

You Walk Out From An Argument

Cuddling You After An Argument

He Meets Your Daughter

Celebrating Your Anniversary

He Helps When You’re Feeling Homesick

He Calls You On Tour

He Calls You By His Ex’s Name

Celebrating Your Daughter’s First Birthday

Looking After Him When He’s Ill

He Comes Home But You Aren’t Around

He Wakes Up But You’re Not There

Exposing His Vulnerable Side To You

Telling Him You’re Pregnant After You Break Up

Attending A Christmas Lights Switch On Together

He Calls You Clingy

You Get Rejected From A Job Offer

Writing Letters For Him Whilst He’s On Tour

Love Letters

Looking After Him After A Long Day

Getting Lost In A Foreign City Together

Coming Home To You After A Long Day At College

You Pick Up On Each Other’s Habits

Helping Your Learn A BTS Routine

You Have A Breakdown From Stress

You’re Scared To Date Because Of The Fans

He Comes Home From Tour

He’s Your First Kiss

You Injure Yourself

You Give Birth To Twins

Looking After You When You’re Ill

Rainy Days

You’re A Tour Guide In A Museum

He Feels Insecure About His Talents

My Puerto Rican Princess

Writing A Song About Him

You Can’t Sleep At Night

Telling Him You’re Gay

Deciding Where You’ll Spend Christmas

You Fall Asleep Backstage Together

Decorating The Christmas Tree

Meeting At The United Nations

You Overhear Fans Being Rude About Him

Taking Care Of You On Your Period

He Comes Home Early From Tour

Taking Care Of Him When He’s Drunk

Looking After Him After A Long Shift ~ Doctor!Namjoon

Helping His Daughter With Her Homework

Simply Just Friends

He Surprises You On Your Birthday

Please Notice

He Takes Care Of You When You’re Ill ~ Doctor!AU

He Accuses You Of Being A Gold Digger

He’s Insecure About His Height

The Boys Find You Crying At A Movie

Telling Him You’re Pregnant After You Break Up

He’s Insecure About The Bond You Have With Your Child

He Gives You His Varsity Jacket ~ College!AU

Going On Your First Holiday Together

Cooking Italian For Him

Helping You With Your Chronic Pain

Your Parents Divorce

You Have A Fear Of Needles

Helping You Through A Hard Time

You Think He’s Cheating On You

He Takes Care Of You During Your Pregnancy

Helping You Cope Through A Stressful Time

Finding That His Hands Are Bigger Than Yours

You Can’t Fall Asleep Without Him

The Morning After The Night Before

Helping You Through A Panic Attack

Going Christmas Shopping Together

He Does Your Makeup

He Faints At The Studio

He Calls You In The Middle Of The Night After An Argument

Watching Christmas Movies Together

You Cheat On Him

He Invites You To Live With Him In Korea

Saying Goodbye At The Airport

Telling Him You’re Bisexual

Taking Your Daughter To Visit The Boys At The Studio

Helping Him With His Chronic Pain

Meeting The Boys For The First Time

Helping You Cope With Your Homesickness

Getting Your Daughter Ready For Kindergarten

Lover

He Feels Insecure About His Height

He Cheats On You

You Get Jealous

He Has A Panic Attack

Falling In Love With Taehyung’s Best Friend

He Meets Your Family

He Takes Care Of You When Your Cramps Are Bad

He Proposes To You

He Feels Insecure About Going Back On Tour

Seeing Him After Your Break Up

He Comforts You After A Breakup ~ Best Friend!Jimin

Filter

You Adopt A Cat

He Finds You Practicing Your Hula

You Cheer Him Up When He’s Down

Doing A Gucci Photoshoot Together

Taking A Trip To Paris Together

Treating Him On Date Night

Kissing On A Rollercoaster

Red Lipstick

Spending Time With Your Family At Christmas

Cosy Nights By The Fire

Taking His Son To Visit Him On Tour

Telling Your Son That You’re Pregnant

Celebrating His Birthday

He Proposes To You

Saying Goodbye At The Airport

Seeing Him After Your Break Up

Taking Your Bubbly Baby To The Studio

Your Child Has Down Syndrome

You Move Out Of His Home

Finding Out You Can’t Have Children

He Likes You, But You Are Already In A Relationship

You Join Him On A V Live

You Get Jealous

You Interrupt His V Live

You Accuse Him Of Cheating

He Introduces You To The Wooga Squad

He Forgets Date Night

You Overhear Fans Being Rude About Your Relationship

Showering Him With Affection When He Comes Home From Tour

Telling Him You’re Pregnant

You Bump Into Your Ex

Having A Fear Of The Airport Because Of Fans

He Says Something Hurtful In The Middle Of An Argument

He Draws Tattoos On You

Meeting On The Set Of A MV Shoot

You Suffer With Chronic Fatigue Syndrome

You Dye Your Hair

Making You Walk Home In The Rain

The Fans Find Out About Your Relationship

Red Lipstick

Taking Care Of You After Surgery

Showing You Around Korea

Helping Him To Shave In The Morning 

You Have A Secret Podcast Together

He Takes Your Virginity On Your Wedding Night

Helping You Through Pregnancy

Promise

Opening The First Door Of Your Advent Calendar

Arguing At Christmas

Going To A Christmas Market Together

Arguing With You Whilst Pregnant

Looking After Him After A Long Day

Writing Christmas Cards Together

He Gets Protective ~ Brother!Jungkook

Finding Out Your Young Daughter Is Pregnant

Exposure (Part 2)

Your Pet Dies

You Forget Date Night

Meeting The Boys For The First Time

Games Night

He Loses His Wedding Ring

Helping You Sleep Whilst Pregnant

Cuddling Him Back To Sleep

Meeting At A Karaoke Bar

Calling Him On Tour

Telling The Fans You’re Pregnant

He Calls You Annoying

He Gets Jealous

Taking Your Daughter To The Studio

He Finds You Skipping Meals

My Time

He Finds Out You’re Fluent In Korean

Telling Him Your Deaf

You Cook Together

Your Son Ignores His Korean Culture

He Gets Competitive During Games Night

You’re A Writer

Finding Out You Were A Bet

He Takes Your Child To The Studio, Not School

You’re Hesitant With Affection

He Has A Breakdown From Stress

You Discuss Having Children

He Finds Your Tattoos

You Suffer From Depersonalisation Disorder

Spending Time With His Young Family

He Cooks For Your Birthday

Vlogging Your Pregnancy During Lockdown

You Think He’s Cheating On You

Dating A British Girl

Tease

You’re In A Relationship, But He Confesses To You

He Convinces You To Take A Break From Your Studies

He Confesses To You

You Meet During Bon Voyage

He Encourages You To Eat On Your Birthday

He Sings A Song You Wrote On The Album

Headcanons:

Seasons with Jungkook Headcanon

—

masterlist

Helloo, do you write for Max? I really love your writing. Your stories feel so intimate and warm. If you do write for max, can you write domesticmax. Like him and the reader are expecting and he admits that he is afraid of not being a good father. The baby arrives and he turns to be an amazing dad to his baby boy. Showing him off to other drivers and being look at my son he's amazing (can you tell that i just listened to dear theodosia)🥹 Thank you!

—blonde hair, lemonade tea dad!max verstappen x mom!female reader (established relationship) love, mackie... what up party people! so so sorry to tell you that max is in fact a girl dad in this fic. i came back to read carefully but it was too late. I am sorry. please forgive me. also let me know if you can spot the dear theodosia references because there is a couple warnings for: pregnancy and labor and birth and such. language and angst but only if you really really squint. christian horner. 4.4k words.

June 18th, 2023

It was poetic, almost. Disgustingly so, considering you were searching for anything but poetry in that chilly bathroom late Sunday afternoon. Max isn’t even around. He’s in Montreal, getting ready to race and blissfully unaware of your current reality–of his current reality. 

You were just trying to clean the apartment, had been digging through the depths of the hall closet when the box–along with the first aid kit you were attempting to reach–fell down onto your head. After cussing out the plastic tote and feeling the lines of your face to be sure they hadn’t been injured, you started to clean up the mess. The Clearblue box and all its royal blues and bright pinks glare at you. 

You took it for fun, planned on sending a picture of it to Max to give him a little scare before revealing the negative result. It was so far in the back of your mind, in fact, that after you left it on the bathroom counter, you resumed your cleaning. It wasn’t until hours later, when the idea of the joke didn’t feel so funny anymore, that you tossed the plastic test into the bin. 

As it clattered to the bottom of the now empty metal trash can, you realized that–just to be safe–you should check the results. 

It was then that the walls of the apartment sunk into the ground with your stomach, when the little life-defining stick defined your life. In the commercials for pregnancy tests, every woman always gets the result she was hoping for. You weren’t even hoping, and still, it managed to give you the wrong one. 

A thick blue plus sign stares back at you through the tiny indicator window and your life will literally never be the same as it was thirty seconds earlier. No matter what you do, no matter how it goes, you will always be pregnant at this moment. Forever and ever, you are pregnant on Father’s Day 2023, and you will live with that knowledge until you don’t live any longer. 

Your first thought is Max–well. Your third thought is Max. Your first thought is does plus mean it’s negative, and your second thought it what the fuck. Max is your third thought, and he’s the only one that really matters, you suppose. 

You should call him. No, no. You can’t tell him that you're pregnant a few hours before he gets into a race car. He’ll kill himself out there and your baby will grow up without a father. Your baby. You have the sudden urge to throw up every meal you’ve eaten in the last week all at once. To heave and heave until there is nothing left in your system and then heave a little bit more. 

June 20th, 2023

He comes home to you on Tuesday night. You’ve got eleven pregnancy tests sitting on the tank of the toilet in the master bath and a knot in your chest the size of North America. You’re waiting for him, sweaty armpits and thumping heartbeat as you pace from one end of the bedroom to the other, Find My Friends open on your phone and sat face up on the dresser. 

He calls out your name before he’s even shut the door behind him and you don’t know where you find the voice to call back to him, “in the bedroom.”

“You okay?” He asks, perhaps your voice is nowhere near as secretive as you’d originally thought. 

“No,” you say. “Can you come here?” 

He’s never been particularly heavy footed, but today the sound of his socked feet creaking down the long hall echoes throughout the entire apartment with every squeal of the floorboards below him. He knocks on the unlatched door with a single knuckle before pushing it open. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurt. There’s nothing sweet about the delivery, but then again, there was nothing sweet about pulling a plastic stick out of the trash either. There’s nothing sweet about any of this. 

He stares at you blankly. “Okay.”

And, as if there was any other option, you feel the need to clarify the obvious for him. “It’s yours.”

“I… yeah,” he nods. You know he’s swallowing a no fucking shit, Sherlock, and you’re grateful for it.  “How… when did you find out?”

“Sunday.” You croak, sit on the end of the bed because you don’t know that you can stand here facing him like this for a moment longer. “I wanted to tell you in person, I guess.”

You can literally see his thoughts processing, his mind catching up to his reality. The silence of brainwork is deafening and you almost wish he would get upset. At least then, you’d have a clue as to his own introspection. “Fuck,” he mutters. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Fuck.”

It’s almost like he forgot you were even there, the way he repeats himself with so much more intention. “Fuck, are you okay?”

You offer up a strained laugh, your eyes fixed on a single cat hair at the corner of the area rug, sitting on your sweaty palms. “Are you?”

“I mean,” you see him run a hand through his hair in your peripheral. The image of four year old him flickers through your mind, all blonde and blushed and sweet. You wonder if yours will look like him. “You’re the one who’s…”

“Pregnant,” you affirm, because it’s the only word you’ve been able to think about for three days now. 

He nods, looks like he might throw up. The thought of it gurgles your insides. “Pregnant,” he whispers, almost entirely to himself. “You’re the one who’s pregnant.”

July 15th, 2023

It’s been three days since you last shit and today is your first ultrasound. You read on Google over breakfast that it is the size of a blueberry and you wonder if by the end of this you’ll ever be able to look at a fruit salad the same again. You and Max struggle to refer to the baby as anything but it, the blueberry-sized monster that has begun to wreak havoc on your body. 

You can’t feed the cats without dry-heaving, and Max handles it when he’s around but when he’s not… it isn’t like you can not feed them. You had to invest in a robotic litter box that self-cleans so you can avoid handling the kitty litter that is apparently one of many things that have become incredibly toxic to you in the past several weeks. 

Max drives to the appointment, and you’re starting to think he’s become a slower driver. You’re nauseous that he’s already changing. “Do you think we’ll hear its heartbeat?” You ponder aloud, twisting the cap of the Ginger Ale bottle in the cupholder. 

“I dunno,” he says, eyes fixed on the winding road. “Does it have one yet?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, muttering against the plastic lip of the bottle. 

There’s a goosebump inducing silence that falls over the two of you when, almost an hour after your conversation about the heartbeat, the lub-dubs are filling the room around you. Nice and strong, your tech had commented with a beaming smile on her face. “Holy shit,” Max breathes. 

“Maxie,” you squeaked out, reaching for his hand without looking away from the pattern on the bottom of the screen, the pattern of our baby’s heart. You feel suddenly like a child yourself, your hand enveloped in his. He kisses your temple hastily and everything is so fucking real. 

August 20th, 2023

Max spends summer break with his hands in your hair, acting as a makeshift hair tie while you’re hunched over the toilet bowl. You’re almost a third of the way there, you try to remind yourself at every opportunity, but particularly on the days where the only thing you can keep down is a large cherry slushie from the petrol station at the end of your block. 

The two of you leave for Zandvoort a week early, make a stop in Maaseik with the intent of making exactly one thing known. Sophie is going to be a grandmother again, and Vic is going to be an aunt. 

“Soph,” you started, Max’s mom making her way across the back patio deck, a bowl of something unidentifiable in her hand. You’re lounging beside Max, who just gave you the go-ahead nudge when Sophie appeared, and Victoria is sat on the wooden floor, a fork clinking against a ceramic plate of fruit on the coffee table. Tom chases the boys around the back grass and continues to warn them of dog poop piles. Life feels exactly like it should. “What do you think about coming to Monaco in March?” You ask. “Vic, you too.”

“March?” Sofie laughs. “Why so far?”

“We thought you might like to meet the baby,” Max says, and even though you aren’t looking at him, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“The baby?” She questions, visibly confused. 

Victoria’s head shoots in your direction, wide eyes finding yours, squealing around a mouthful of fruit. “No!” You smile hard, biting down onto your bottom lip as you nod. “Oh my God!” She yelps, stumbling around the table to her feet, lunging on you with a giggly bear hug. 

“Oh my God, are you pregnant?” Sophie finally asks. You nod along with Max’s verbal confirmation, watch a suddenly teary-eyed Sophie envelop her baby in her arms. 

Her tears bring your own, when you and Max trade places, when Sophie has your cheeks cupped in her hands. She says your name so softly, whispers her kind words so they stay only for the two of you. “You are made for motherhood,” she tells you. “You already glow, darling.”

August 27th, 2023

He tells his father sometime that weekend when you aren’t around. It’s how you asked him to do it, had no interest in sharing that moment with Jos. The two of you have maintained a cordial relationship all these years, but if it was up to just you, Jos could find out when you show up with a six-month-old on your hip next year. He is important to Max, but he is no father to you. 

Max tells you that it goes well, that Jos told him to give you a hug and a kiss and his best wishes. You smile and kiss him and wish he could understand how much better he deserved, how much better he has earned. 

September 12, 2023

Max has been referring to the baby exclusively as Poopy for two weeks now. You’d told him one morning that your bump was quote-en-quote, fucking huge, and he’d replied that it just looked like you needed to have a shit. 

“Are you calling our baby poop?” You’d quipped, running your hand along your bare stomach in the full-length mirror. 

“No,” he replied around his toothbrush. “Poop-y, because it’s cute.”

He’s objectively right, your bump isn’t nearly as large as it feels. All of your clothes–even your shape hugging jeans–still fit and not even the sixteen-year-old triple zeroes on TikTok have commented about you gaining weight. 

In fact, you’ve kept it all under wraps pretty well, considering you’ve been at almost half the races this season. Max has become stupidly protective of you; he complains when you’re at home and there is nobody to feed the cats for you, and when you do show up, he doesn’t let you out of sight. 

He’s lucky that he’s always been touchy, or he would’ve given it away, the way his hand slots comfortably over your stomach every chance he gets. There’s nothing to feel, you would know, but he’s always there

On the way to your doctor’s appointment that afternoon, his hand is in its new favorite spot. He definitely drives slower now, there isn’t a question about it. You’ll find out the sex at today’s ultrasound, start speaking names into the world and hopefully something will stick before you’re signing Poopy Verstappen’s birth certificate. 

October 20th, 2023

Max read online that her ears are fully developed now, and that it’s more than important to talk to her as much as possible. He talks and talks to his baby girl for hours on end, sometimes to the point that you feel like you’re interrupting something between the two of them. 

Tonight, in a hotel room in Austin, Texas, you’re reading a gossip magazine. It’s the only thing you’ve been able to focus on for weeks now; any writing that requires your brain to think critically is a no-go. Max is propped up on a pillow halfway down the bed, talking to her about a whole lot of nothing. 

You haven’t been able to agree on a name yet. Your heart is set on Elle, on long blonde braids tied with green ribbons and his baby blues and sparkly pink jelly sandals. Max makes an argument for Nora, with pink cheeks and your nose and a belly laugh that people couldn’t help but smile at. Neither of you wants to budge, so Poopy continues her reign. 

He’s silent for some time, and if it weren’t for the aimless path his finger traces over your stomach, you’d think that he’d fallen asleep. “You know, Poops,” he starts again, and you smile softly. “You scare the hell out of me.” You don’t comment, but a hand finds his hair, your fingers running mindlessly through the blonde locks. “Your Mum is going to be perfect, but you’re getting the short end of the stick with me.” Another pause. You wonder if you should speak. 

You don’t. He isn’t talking to his girlfriend right now. 

“I don’t know how to be a dad, Poopy, but I know how much I love you.”

The tears burn in your eyes and blur the pages of the magazine. You want to tell him he’s a fool, that nobody will be a better dad than him. You want to scream–Max, Max, Max! Your Max. Her Max. You want to tell him that even though none of this was in the plan, there is not another person, not another soul in any other million universes and alternate lives that you would rather stray from the plan with. No one else could make a hard veer left into uncharted territory feel like a scenic drive around your family’s hometown. 

“I’m going to try harder than I’ve ever tried, though,” he continues. “And, just do you know, I have a pretty good record when it comes to the things I want, isn’t that right, Mummy?” He shifts his head on the pillow to look at you. You’re met with his smile, almost certainly expecting you to have not been paying attention, to meet him with an equally please smile and a curious hum. 

Instead, he’s faced with your red, teary eyes and your pursed smile. “Yeah,” you croak through a laugh. “Your daddy’s a winner, Poopy. The fucking best.”

Max’s hand moves from your stomach to reach up to your cheek. He wipes the single tear that breaks through the damn, eyes laced horribly with concern, thumb softly circling the skin in the wake of the salty tear. You frown, silently affirm your convictions to him with a quick I love you. 

I love you, he mouths back. So much.

You nod in agreement.

 Someday, you’re going to be able to tell your daughter without bursting into sobs that Dad doesn’t understand his worry is proof enough he’s the best father. For now, you’ll just have to settle for the hope that your thoughts can transfer to her the way her hunger transfers to you. 

October 21st, 2023

GP and Christian find out you’re pregnant in the hours between FP3 and Qualifying. It’s getting harder and harder to hide your bump, even with the incoming autumn weather. A sweatshirt that you’d bought just to conceal your stomach and Max’s RedBull team jacket and you’re still paranoid that everyone around you can tell. 

You’re mid conversation with the three of them in hospitality while eating lunch. You’re picking at your plate because Christian is eating a pasta salad of some kind. You can smell the cherry tomatoes and it makes you green. 

You keep repeating the same thing to yourself, a silent mantra while you completely ignore their conversation. You will not be sick. You will not be sick. You will not be sick. Max can tell something is bothering you, his hand finding the space between your body and the back of the chair, rubbing comforting paths along your spine. His leg bounces anxiously under the table. It’s truly a miracle you’ve kept it a fucking secret for this long. 

It’s not the nausea that gives you away, surprisingly. Nor is it the baby bump hidden by layers of fabric. What gives the pregnancy away is the baby herself. 

Max moves to collect the plates from the table and you thank whatever God might be watching over you that the cherry tomatoes are leaving your nose’s smell radius. It’s when he’s on his way back, weaving his way through the tables and chairs with ease, a glass of a familiar carbonated beverage in his hand, that you feel it–her–that you feel her. 

Max’s presence still gives you butterflies, but this. This is something different. This is a kick or a punch or a headbutt, this is your little girl getting comfortable, this is you feeling her getting comfortable. Max is sitting into the seat next to you with a sigh, setting the glass on the tabletop in front of you and you’re not even thinking about where you are—much less who your company is—when you grab his wrist and move his hand to your stomach. It’s just you and him and her. 

“What?” He asks, visibly worried at the grip you have on him.

“Feel,” you say, push his hand flat against the fabric. She moves again. “Do you feel that?”

He nods, “yeah.”

“That’s her,” you smile, eyes fixed on him, on his reaction. 

“That’s her?” He laughs, eyes darting between yours and his hand. “Shit.”

When the moment is broken, when she’s comfortable and ready to go back to sleeping or whatever she does in her infinite free time, the two of you are met with GP and Christian’s matching expressions. It’s a sight to behold, the two men and their raised brows and wide eyes and confused smile as they lean forward in their seats. 

“Uh, are you…?” Christian asks you quietly. 

You nod, “it’s a secret,” and both of them nod. 

Christian reaches across the table for you, gives your arm a weighted squeeze. “Congratulations, both of you,” he says, barely above a whisper. GP follows suit, in his own GP way. 

“Scary world where there are two of either of you,” he quips. “You guys will handle it, though.”

When they excuse themselves, they both give Max’s shoulder a heavy smack and a squeeze, their own shared, silent congratulations.

 “Well,” you say when it’s just the two of you left at the table, drawing shapes in the condensation on the glass of ginger ale. “I guess now we don’t have to find a way to tell them.”

November 17th, 2023

You’re MIA for Mexico and Brazil, and show up to the paddock in Vegas on Friday with Max, a form-fitted midi-dress and sandals for the desert heat. There’s no room for interpretation or guesses or assumptions, no gray area where they can feel entitled to commenting on your weight. It’s black and white, from the bump to the waddle to the placement of your hand when you walk. 

The World Champion is going to be a dad, hear the little lion roar. 

December 13th, 2023

Things are starting to feel very, very real. Like, you’re two and a half months from having a baby in your arms and she still doesn’t have a name, real. Nesting is in full force, and it feels like every single corner of the apartment is filled with baby toys and furniture and outfits and books. 

Max has been working in the nursery since the two of you got home from Abu Dhabi. He won’t let you anywhere near it, and makes you wear a mask when you even walk down the hall past the freshly painted bedroom. Each night you think he couldn’t become more protective over you, and each morning you’re surprised to find that somehow, he is. 

The paint is finally dry, the room fully aired out, and your guest room is no longer a guest room. The bikes and the extra rack of clothes and the spare sleeping space have all been replaced by a rocking chair and throw blankets and an insanely expensive crib, with the world’s tiniest socks and sweet little mittens because when you finally meet her she'll be helpless against even her own finger nails. 

Pictures fill the shelves and the walls and the table next to the rocking chair, of you and of Max and of you and Max. Of your friends and your family and all the people who will love your baby girl almost as much as the two of you do. 

It’s a bedroom fit for only the world’s finest. 

“You have the world’s best daddy,” you say, standing in the middle of the nursery with Max’s arm around your shoulder, your hand carefully cradling your stomach. “He outdid himself, Poops. Wait until you see this.”

He presses his lips against your temple. “We have to find her a name.”

“We have names,” you say, admiring the mobile hung over the crib, the different farm animals swaying in the breeze pouring in from the open window. 

Max laughs. You hope she has his laugh. You hope she has his everything, even his unrelenting competitiveness and his roll of the dice temperament and his sweet, sweet lisp. “We have to agree on one of the names.”

February 27th, 2024

Max Verstappen to Miss Pre-Season Testing. The headline is everywhere, Max’s phone blowing up with texts and calls and emails since Red Bull made the announcement some days prior. Some days, you say, because you’ve been in the hospital for almost three now and they’re beginning to blend together. 

Testing is the last thing on either of your minds, literally couldn’t be further from the forefront at this moment. 

“I think,” you whisper through gritted teeth, cut off by your own contraction. You squeeze his hand like your life depends on it, like he’d challenged you to break every last metacarpal. The hand that survives mutilation is brushing sweat stucken hair from your forehead. He learned to stop attempting to talk you through them hours ago. 

This is a whole new level of exhaustion, a different kind of pain. The look in your eyes will haunt his nightmares, he thinks. 

“I think we should name her Nora,” you finally find the space to speak. 

He laughs, but it’s not the laugh you hope she has. It’s nervous, anxious, scared fucking shitless. “We don’t need to worry about that right now,” he tells you.

“She doesn’t have a name, Max,” you say, voice laced with exhaustion and frustration and desperation. “She needs a name and Nora is a name.”

“Nora isn’t her name,” he insists, and you know he's right. She isn’t Nora. She isn’t Elle, either. She sure as fuck isn’t Poopy, that dumb fucking nickname. He’s never nicknaming anything, ever again. 

“Eleanor. Her name is Eleanor,” you grit, squeezing his hand and groaning through another contraction.

Max nods. “Eleanor,” he smiles. Eleanor. “She has your eyes and my nose and beautiful blonde hair and she’s perfect in all of the ways.”

February 28th, 2024. Sometime after 3:17 am.

Max is wrong about half of it. She has your nose and his soft blue eyes. Her hair is soft and barely more than fuzz and is white as white can be. She has ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes and a smile that at least two people would kill to keep on her itty bitty lips. 

She looks so small in his arms, like a real-life baby doll, like a sight that you could never tire of seeing. 

“Now, you’re not so scary,” he whispers to her, and everything about him is quiet: his voice, his breathing, his lips kissing her head and his smile to you. “I bet you can’t even fight. You’re just a little thing, Poopy.”

“Uh-uh,” you hum. “No more Poopy.”

He laughs, dead silent. It’s impressive, almost. “Don’t listen to her, Poops.” There is something so incredibly human about this moment, about seeing your person speak to the person you created together. She is you and she is him and you don’t know why this wasn’t always the plan. “Mum is as crazy as she is beautiful.”

September 1st, 2024

“It’s a shame,” Daniel speaks to Max, bouncing Eleanor on his hip, giddy smile on both of their faces. “Everytime I see her she looks more like you and less like her mother.”

“Ay, Daniel!” Charles laughs, squeezing Eleanor’s foot. She follows the voices with her big blue eyes.  “Be nice, mate,” now that he has her attention, he speaks only in a baby-voice. “Yes,” he says, “tell Uncle Daniel to be nice to Papa.”

There have been a lot of moments in the past six months that have left you in awe of your partner, but none strike you quite the way that watching him introduce your daughter to the grid does. He’s so in his element, his two world’s colliding as he gets to show off his girl. 

His girl, who, like Daniel teases, looks more and more like him every day. Pride is not what you feel watching them together, your guy and your world. It isn’t a strong enough word for what you’re faced with. You would die for her, you would kill for her. There is a certain solace in knowing he might be the only person in the world who feels exactly the same way. 

“This is our daughter,” he begins every introduction, even though he could just as easily say my daughter. No, he could never, not when he falls more in love with you everytime he looks at her, not when he picks up on every minuscule thing she does that reminds him of you. 

Never could it be his daughter. Not when you’ve created the best thing to ever come of him, when even here, in Monza and the sea of red and prancing horses and tifosi pride he knows that nobody on planet Earth has the supporters that he does. 

touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch. 

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

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First Date with the Vets - Erwin

Big shoutout to @chaotic-nick for making this lovely banner for me!

Overall Summary: I had this idea to do a first date with the vets and what it would be like. I am including Erwin, Levi, Miche, and Hange in this list. Each date will be different, but all of them will be set in modern au.

Check out Miche’s story here, Levi’s story here, and Hange’s story here

Pairing: Erwin x Fem!Reader

Content: Nearly all fluff

Word Count: ~ 6,100

Summary: Reader is on her way home to get ready for her blind date when she runs into a handsome stranger on her way home. On her way up to her apartment to get ready, the elevator breaks down with her and the handsome stranger stuck inside.

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Dance To This Masterlist (Blind! Au) (Service hybrid Au)

(dog-Hybrid! Seokjin x wolf-Hybrid! Namjoon x Blind! Reader)(ft. Cat! Yoongi)

Summary: Seokjin didn’t expect his new potential owner to be blind, but with the threat of being sent to a breeding clinic looming over his head, he’ll do anything. 

Tags: Eventual polyamory, Blindness, Service hybrid au, non-explicit sex, non-physical intimacy, Domestic love, social media au, cuddling, hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety and depression, allusions to past self-harm, referenced hybrid mistreatment, hybrid abandonment,  

———————————-

PART 1: “I got you,”

PART 2: “I won’t tell him about your crush, don’t worry.”

PART 3: “You can always come back,”

———————————-

Sequel: Call Me Yours (BTS x Reader) 

Summary: You were happy with your life, with your loving relationship with your hybrids- Seokjin, Namjoon, and Yoongi. But you never would have imagined that more love was hidden right next door, just over your garden fence. Not that human Hoseok will ever get the courage to confess his feeling for you anyway. His hybrids, however- starry-eyed bunny Jungkook, Bratty calico cat Jimin, and shy tiger Taehyung- don’t have any problem at all.

Pairings: (Human! Hoseok) x (Human! reader) x (Wolf hybrid! Namjoon) x (Dog hybrid! Seokjin) x (Cat hybrid! Yoongi) x (Tiger hybrid! Taehyung) x (Bunny hybrid! Jungkook) x (Cat hybrid! Jimin)

Tags: Established relationship, Polyamory, gratuitous fluff, slow-ish burn

———————————-

Part 1: BIRDS

Part 2: CHARMING

Part 3: AUDIO

Part 4: PROMISE

Part 5: THE DATE

Part 6:  BURN

Part 7: LOVE BITES

Part 8: DIVIDED 

Part 9: STITCHES

epilogue: TIMELESS

———————————-

the enemies to lovers project | lee minho

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵; 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘶, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 – 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺, 𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~18𝘬+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺!!! 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘩𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 >.< 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥!

prologue.

“You know I despise you, right?”

“Oh, despise. Such a big word, baby,” Minho drawled with an obnoxious smirk, the one that simultaneously made you want to rip his hair out and kiss those perfectly delectable lips of his, “If it’s any consolation, I abhor your presence as well.”

“Wonderful,” you crossed your legs, a smile creeping onto your face as you leaned backward in your chair, “So why exactly are you here?”

Minho laughed, “The same reason I presume that you’re here for. A hundred dollars to put up with you is a tempting offer.”

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Injury

word count: 672

genre: fluff, slight angst(?)

pairings: diluc x gn! reader (M’lady is used once)

warnings: blood, depictions of a wound

additional notes: here's some more Diluc, I promise I am working on some other characters. If you have any suggestions or you have anything you would like me to write don't be afraid to send me an ask !!

Want to be tagged in my works click here

   The sun was starting to dip past the horizon as you made your way through the trellises in front of the winery. The day had been long and hard, fighting hilichurls until late this evening. The feeling of bruises starting to form and the pains of fighting are starting to settle in, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off. As you move to open the front door a stinging sensation lights up your entire left arm.

   Looking to your left arm you notice the blood flowing from your shoulder. You take a second to process the fact that you were bleeding from a wound in your shoulder you hadn’t felt before now. Opening the door with your other arm, you swiftly walk into the winery and apply pressure to the wound as soon as you let go of the door.

   You walk toward your shared bedroom and catch sight of Adelinde, when she turns to greet you she gasps and takes half a step back. “M’lady-” she says panicked, heading toward you to inspect the wound “-are you okay?” You nod with a slight smile on your face, “yes, I am okay. Would you be able to send some bandages and such to our bathroom, I would like to deal with the wound before Diluc arrives.”

   She nods her head and moves to start gathering the materials. As she does that, you walk the rest of the way toward your room. You head straight to the bathroom from there, looking in the mirror to assess how bad the wound is. You remove your shirt, staring at the wound closer, before hearing the door open.

   You look up in the mirror expecting Adelinde before catching sight of Diluc standing behind you, holding the materials to clean and dress your wound. You turn to him before looking away when he starts walking closer. He sets everything down before wetting a rag and starting to clean around your wound.

   “Diluc, you don’t have to do this love. You have probably had a long da-” he cuts you off “- my dear, I would do this a million times over just to make sure you are alright.” He looks up at you to make sure he isn’t hurting you with what he is doing. When you make eye contact he sends you a small smile to which you send one back in return.

   As he continues to clean and dress your wound, you raise your uninjured arm and place it on the side of his face, running your thumb on his cheek. He leans into your touch while he puts the finishing touches on the dressing. Once he’s done, he stands to his full height and looks back at your face. “What happened to cause such a wound dear,” he asks. You walk out of the bathroom with him following, sitting on the bed while he starts to change from the day.

   “To be honest with you, I didn’t feel the wound until I was going to open the front door. I assume it happened sometime today while clearing camps.” You look at him as he pulls his night shirt on, looking towards you as he pulls another from his closet and motions for you to change into it. You happily do so before turning around to face him. “I never got to say it, but welcome home love.”

   He smiles at you and takes a step forward, wrapping his arms around your waist. You follow his lead by placing one hand on his nape and the other on his shoulder. He leans forward and you meet him halfway, noses brushing as lips meet. The smell of oak and smoke enveloped you, along with the warmth of the man in front of you.

   He pulls back slightly before leaning in again for a quick peck, resting your foreheads together afterward. His hand had moved to rest on the back of your head and yours had moved to pull the tie from his hair. “Thank you, my dear.”

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The desperation in this guy's eyes.

My boy nearly died (presumably forced to protect Charlie by his deal), and wants to escape and strike back more than anything.

Requested, image description/edit: Alastor having a breakdown from nearly getting killed by Adam, hands grabbing his head, his red eyes darting around and his perpetual smile is extremely strained, baring gum.

House of Hope

Pairing: OT7 x Reader, OT7 x OT7

Details: hybrid!bts, a/b/o dynamics, asexual!reader

Summary: Your best friend offers you a job as a caregiver for seven hybrids.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts.

[currently posting!]

Part 1

Prologue: got it

Chapter 1: let’s go to the mall

Chapter 2: driver’s license

Chapter 3: scenting

Chapter 3.5: that’s my ego (Namjoon POV)

Chapter 4: what’s a rut-partner?

Chapter 5: pre-rut

Chapter 6: grooming

Chapter 7: potential mate

Chapter 8: daisy chains and drunkards

Chapter 9: hybrid flu

Chapter 10: touch

Chapter 11: a death in the family

Chapter 12: dissociating in Daegu

Chapter 13: inheritance…

tbc…