#i went through a REALLY bad breakup | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

babeyun · 5 months ago

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on the rebound ☆ p.sh [m]

synopsis: sunghoon doesn't mind babysitting for the neighborhood mothers - but he certainly doesn't mind when a certain eldest daughter is around to be taken care of, too. genre: acquaintances to ???. older!reader moment (because why not, but also it doesn't really come up.) angst, fluff, smut. this porn has plot, damnit! pairing: babysitter!park sunghoon x fem!older!reader ; mentions of heeseung x reader. word count: 6k rating: 18+. minors do not interact. warnings: swearing, alcohol (that they don't even drink LOL) mentions of toxic relationships, rebounds, reader is only older by a year. smut warnings: oral (f. rec),MUNCH!HOON!! PUSSY EATING ENTHUSIAST HOON!!! nipple play, subtle body worship (f. rec), unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), sub!hoon x sub!reader (just trust me), creampie, subtle breeding kink, wayyy too much whining and whimpering, pet names (pretty girl, baby, etc.) listen to: lie to girls - sabrina carpenter ; number one girl - rosé ; wait - dino ; btbt - b.i, soulja boy, devita ; die for you - the weeknd. author's note: this is for all my eldest daughters out there (not me but y'all stay safe!) i whipped this up while i was procrastinating studying for finals...so apologies if it's shitty (because it is shitty.) also, i dog on heeseung SOOO bad but i promise i love him i just needed someone. this being said, happiest birthday hoonie, i love u!

You and Sunghoon weren't strangers, you wouldn't go that far.

However, there was a good reason that you weren't friends – you were never home when he was at your parents' house. You'd moved out with your boyfriend a month or so into him babysitting your menace of a sister. She was well-behaved for him, but had been an absolute tornado of a child when your mother would ask you to babysit. You were actually the one who found Sunghoon through an ad on social media, and he'd been yet another thing to add to your parents' monthly budget.

Then again, no one told them to have another kid so late in their lives. Or yours, for that matter. You were eighteen when Mina was born, and it'd been a pretty rocky five years since then. You went off to college and didn't really get to see her grow up, and she soon learned you were someone she couldn't depend on emotionally because you were rarely able to stick around outside of holidays. It pained you, but you knew you'd eventually get the time to bond with her.

And that time came very quickly after meeting Sunghoon – because your boyfriend dumped you after six months, insisting he was too busy with school to maintain a relationship. Heeseung was a graduate student, and he tutored on the side for extra cash. Your parents funded your lifestyle, so you'd never worried about anything – until Heeseung sat you down and said that the relationship was stressing him out.

Needless to say, a week after the breakup – you moved back in with your parents and left him to figure out the rent himself. It was a calculated move, but your parents agreed that you didn't need that kind of energy in your life. It didn't stop you from remembering all the other times Heeseung dogged you – from taking continuous 'breaks' from your relationship in the three years you were together, to falling prey to temptation (read: another woman grinding on him at a bar while you were two feet away.)

And you talked about him to every person you possibly could – including now, your little sister's babysitter as he washed dishes in your parents' kitchen. The conversation hadn't started out this way, he'd actually been telling you how much Mina talked about you while you were gone.

"Anyway, that kid loves you, man." He nodded as he slid a plate onto the drying rack, and you laughed softly. "Mina was born when I was a teenager. She just thinks I'm cool now, she'll go through the phase of hating me when she's older." You shrug.

"I wouldn't be so sure. She talks about you a lot, something about you playing a viobib?" His brow is arched, and you snort. "Violin. I played her the violin one time so she'd leave me alone. I'm surprised she talks to you so much, she has a hard time warming up to anyone. Even my boyfriend can't get her to talk to him."

His eyes narrowed slightly, "You have a boyfriend? Since when?" You shrug again. "Since before I met you. I guess I should say ex, though. Boyfriend is the title he prefers, but not the one he deserves. At least, not right now." You say pointedly, and his brows furrowed as he leans on the counter, arms crossed.

"Elaborate." "You're babysitting my kid sister, not giving me counseling."

"Consider it a perk for eldest daughters who act like they deserve shitty men." He says, a bite to his tone as you scrunch your nose. You sigh, nibbling your lip before rolling your eyes. "We're on-and-off. Sometimes I call it off, sometimes he does. He's in grad school and he tutors, and he said everything was stressing him out. He dumped me a bit ago, and I moved back in here. I'm surprised I haven't seen you around more."

"Right, so what about that arrangement is making you believe that you deserve this sort of behavior?"

You peek up at him, his brows still furrowed as he awaits your answer. Your stomach tightens a bit as you blink. "I guess…I don't know, actually." "Okay, then ditch that loser." He shrugs, and you scoff. "He's not a loser. He's smart and sweet and we're just going through a rough patch." "If you have to justify his presence in your life or his treatment of you to your friends or anyone you talk about him to, then he's a loser. He sucks and he doesn't deserve to have access to you in any way." Sunghoon clasps his hands in front of himself, and you frown.

"He's nice enough." "Yeah, so is any other guy, babe. You're not gonna give just any dude a chance because he's 'nice enough,' are you?" He peers at you through his shaggy hair, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly in embarrassment. "The fact that you allow that behavior, seemingly quite often, will only make him make you his doormat. He'll do it over and over until he's sick of you, then he gets to dump you and make it seem like it was a mutual thing. You won't win in a situation like that." "It's not about winning." You mutter, grabbing a peach out of the fruit bowl in front of you. He leans back on the island, arms crossed in front of him.

"Isn't it, though? There is always a prize and a player in a relationship. You," He taps the tip of your nose with his finger gently. "Are the prize, and he's the player. If he's not playing to win you, then he's playing to lose and wasting your time."

You stare into his eyes, not missing the way his brows jump as he leans slightly closer.

"Stop wasting your time on a shitty dude when you can do so much better. Especially if you're really as cool as Mina says. Kids don't lie about people they admire." His tone is slightly teasing, and you roll your eyes. "Mina has thrown eggs at me, I wouldn't be so sure she admires me." "I don't know, she said you're really nice to everyone. That you're funny, you can sing…dance…" Sunghoon lists a few things your sister said while you were asleep, and you feel your ears grow hot. "She also said you're the one who taught her how to do backflips, and that she wants to be like you when she grows up. I'd suggest getting that guy out of your life sooner rather than later so you can set a good example." "Did she mention him?" Your eyes snap up, and Sunghoon shrugs. "Once or twice. She said he makes you cry more often than not." You snort, shaking your head as you look down. "What does she know? She's five."

"Kids see things from an unbiased perspective, they're still learning how to be functioning humans. She associates him with you being upset, so I wouldn't be surprised if you told me that you're 'on a break' right now. I've been listening to you for five minutes and I already don't like this guy. If he cared, he'd be here. He doesn't care." "You're only saying that because it's what I need to hear." You roll your eyes as you avoid the rest of his spiel, and Sunghoon shakes his head, stealing a grape from the ones he washed for you earlier. "I'm saying that because it's the truth, and when I love, I make sure the person I love knows." "You don't even know him." You scowl, and he smirks. "Don't have to, babe. It's all over your face. You look defeated as hell when you talk about him." "Not your babe, Sunghoon." You shake your head, and he shrugs. "Could be, if you ditched that guy. I don't even know your favorite color but I can almost guarantee I'd be a better boyfriend than him."

"My favorite color is green." You mutter, and he leans closer to your face. "Anything else you wanna tell me about this guy?" "Why? You'll just be mean about it." You mumble, licking your lips when you feel his fingers tilt your chin up. He coos, "You're cute when you're defensive over a scumbag." "Stop that." You shove his hand away, and he smiles. "You need a rebound or something. All you've been able to talk about since you moved back is this guy. He sucks, babe." "Ugh, I know! Alright, I know he sucks, you don't have to rub it in." You frown, biting into the peach in your hand. "D'you know he'd never tell me I was pretty? I mean, I know I am, he didn't have to. But it would've been nice to hear every once in a damn while." You chew angrily, before hearing him laugh softly. "You have enough confidence for a man to feel like he doesn't need to tell you that. You carry yourself so well, it's honestly very sexy." You look up at him, meeting his eyes. They're calm and sincere, like he didn't just call you sexy in the middle of your kitchen while you're wearing a random t-shirt and sweatpants. "Me?" "Yeah, you. It's just us in here, Y/N." He snorts, "You seriously need to get over this guy. I don't like hearing you talk about this like you deserved it." "What do you know? You hardly know me." You know your voice sounds bitter, but it only spurs him on. "Don't need to know you super well to know you just need to feel appreciated." "Right, appreciated." You roll your eyes, tossing the half eaten peach in the trash. "Like I'm gonna find that in a rebound." "You can." He nods, making you snort. "Like who? You?" "Sure." He shrugs, and you nearly choke on your own spit. "What? Sunghoon, be serious." "I am being serious. If that's what it takes, I'm all for it." He shrugs again, like this is the most nonchalant thing ever, like he's not offering to fuck the bitterness out of you so you'll act normal again. You gawk at him, "Sunghoon, I cannot just use you like that. We hardly know each other, are you insane?" "Is it insane if I say I want you to?" He leans forward on the counter, a soft blush on his cheeks. You gape at him, his finger coming to close your mouth. "Does it matter how well we know each other? I'm sure it'll be a one time thing, and since we don't see each other often, I don't see the harm." "You want me to use you to get over my ex-boyfriend? You want to be my rebound?" You're shocked at his suggestion, he can tell as he shrugs. "You can use me anytime you want. Think about it." He winks, pushing off the island.

You feel your cheeks grow hot as he leaves the kitchen, letting you sit with your thoughts.

Sunghoon lived a mile away, in an apartment complex you helped him pick out once your parents hired him. Your mother had insisted he live in the house, but your father refuted by saying Sunghoon was a grown man, he needed his own space. You'd taken him to fill out the paperwork, and it was one of the last interactions you'd had with Sunghoon before moving out.

You sigh shakily, running your hands through your hair.

It wasn't the worst idea. You knew that Sunghoon wouldn't have offered it if he wasn't attracted to you, at least. You knew what it was like to feel desired, but something about the way Sunghoon looked at you made you feel giddy.

Maybe it was the promise of feeling something new, or the idea that you shouldn't do it – because he works for your parents. Getting involved with you could cost him his job, if anyone found out.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket, and you sigh as you reach to grab it.

Message From: Park Sunghoon (Babysitter) [8:32pm] you know where i live if you're down. [8:32pm] just let me know, gorgeous.

Fuck.

Bad idea, bad idea, bad fucking idea.

It hadn't even been a day since you and Sunghoon had the conversation in your parents' kitchen. Or rather, the awkward moment in your parents' kitchen.

It'd been three hours. It was nearing midnight as you stood in front of the elevator, the cold December air biting at your exposed legs. You'd gone to a late dinner with your friend Aeri, and you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that her encouragement is what got you into this predicament.

The elevator dings, revealing a young girl and her dog attempting to step out. You give her a soft smile, earning a nod and a have a good night as you step in. You press the button to the third floor, bouncing on your heels as the elevator starts moving. This could be the worst fuck of your life and you won't even know until after, or even during. What if it's the best fuck of your life and then you're just forced to be around him as his employer rather than a potential fuck buddy or even worse, a girlfriend? "Get it together, Y/N." You mutter to yourself, hearing the elevator ding as you reach the third floor. You step out, turning to the right and walking past three doors, before standing in front of his apartment. His doormat is that of a frat boy's – Please Don't Do Coke In Our Bathroom.

You snort, before knocking on the door softly. You hear rustling, and the lowering of a TV before the pitter-patter of dog feet. You hear him sigh as he unlocks the door, his face appearing before you as he opens it. He looks surprised.

"Y/N, what a pleasure." He speaks smoothly, and you roll your eyes. "It's cold, invite me in." You cross your arms across your chest, making him smile as he steps to the side. You walk in, shivering as you carefully step out of your heels. You squat to pet his dog, but she disappears behind his legs. You pout at him, and he just snorts. "She's shy."

"It's fucking freezing outside, Hoon." Your teeth chatter as he closes the door, taking your scarf as you hand it to him. "Well, you're barely dressed. I assume it would be cold when you're half naked." "Did you want me to wear layers and make this take ten times as long? Be serious." You huff, sliding your coat off. Granted, you'd put this dress on with the idea of going to a bar after dinner and posting thirst traps on your story for Heeseung to see and yearn for…

Which is shitty of you to appear in Sunghoon's apartment after thinking that way.

"I don't think you wore this for me, Y/N. You were at dinner with Aeri." He rolls his eyes, and you forget he also has your Instagram. "Man, just take the win. Do you wanna fuck me or not?"

He shrugs, "Do you want me to?" "You wouldn't have offered and I wouldn't have shown up if the answer to either of those questions was no." You say pointedly, and he clicks his tongue. "I guess you're right." "I usually am." You roll your eyes, making him laugh. "Here, have a seat." "What, are you gonna wine and dine me?" You tease, and he smirks, disappearing into his kitchen. "Could say that." You take a seat on his couch, looking around the apartment. He's decorated in a very Sunghoon way – lots of black decorations and shelving on the exposed brick, an array of books on a shelf to the left of his desk and a record player. You look at his coffee table, the fashion magazines and editorials stacked high.

"You always snoop through people's things?" His voice rings behind you as he holds two glasses and a bottle of wine you're sure you've seen only in your father's reserve. You huff, "Well you leave me here to entertain myself, I'm bound to look around." "Valid. Come on." He tilts his head for you to follow him, your cheeks aflame as you do just that. He leads you down to his bedroom, a large bed with a black duvet in the middle of the room. More books, a few incense candles, a few figurines in the corner of his room. "I like what you've done with the place." "Thanks, it only took fucking forever to figure out what I wanted to do. I think the exposed brick makes for a bigger headache than those home bloggers make it out to be."

It makes you feel at ease, how easy conversation can be with Sunghoon. He doesn't make anything feel inorganic, but he also doesn't talk more than necessary in order to get his point across.

"How long were you with that guy, anyway? Here, put this on." He holds out a pair of sweatpants, which you take with a quizzical look. "Three years. Uh, Hoon, the point is to be naked here, not put on more clothes." "Is that how it was with him? You'd just show up and strip?" He rolls his eyes, digging a shirt out of his dresser for you. You feel your cheeks warm as he hands it to you, before giving you a glance. "Was it?" "...Kind of." You look at your feet, and he sighs. "Yeah, well…I don't play that. Do you need help getting your dress off?" "Oh, yeah. Just the zipper." You turn, pulling your hair to the front. You feel his fingers graze your back, before he tugs the zipper down in one go. He snaps your bra strap playfully, "We can lose this, though." "Yah!" You swat his hand away, making him laugh as he turns away. "Do you want to watch something or just talk?" "We can watch something, whatever is fine. Just nothing scary, my room is spooky at night." You shudder as you undo your bra, folding it in your hand before tugging the shirt over your head. "Oh, do you intend on driving home after?" "Did you want me to stay?" Your words sound a bit bitter, and that only makes Sunghoon frown as he scours the selection on HBO from his bed. "Dude, the more things you say, the more scummy I realize this guy was to you. Next thing you know you'll tell me he never went down on you." You freeze, and Sunghoon gapes at you as you turn around, pulling the shirt down your torso. "Y/N, you've got to be kidding me." "No, he did a few times, I swear!" You try to defend him, but Sunghoon only scoffs out a laugh. "That's fucking insane. Like, actually insane." "Hoon, you're embarrassing me." You whine, and he only blinks. "Why would you be embarrassed that he didn't wanna eat you out? That in itself is embarrassing for him. Real men eat pussy, and they eat it with gusto." "Shut up." You cover your face with your hands as you hear him sigh. "I'm just saying. Now, come on. Either put the pants on or lie the hell down." You huff, shoving the pair of sweats on before joining him on his bed. This is normal, friends fuck all the time.

Except you and Sunghoon are not friends.

You must've spaced out, because the feeling of Sunghoon squeezing your knee makes you jolt. "What are you thinking about?" "Nothing." You lie, shaking your head. He hums, turning his attention to the random movie on the television. "You're a bad liar, you know?" "Am not." Scoffing, you turn to face him. Your knees hit his outer thigh as you turn, and he gives you a lazy smile. "You are. You were staring off into space and chewing on your cheek for like, five minutes. What's up?" You scrunch your nose, looking down at your hands as he tilts his head. "You can tell me, you know. I don't judge." "Don't you, though? I mean, I'm here after you absolutely dogged on my ex earlier." You snort, and he smiles. "I'm judging your ex, not you. Well, not right now at least. I will always dislike the fact that you think you deserved that treatment, let alone from a guy who probably couldn't even make you cum." Your eyes snap to his, shock across your face as he pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Babe, come on." "He was nice!" You whine, and Sunghoon just laughs in disbelief. "Don't laugh! It's not funny!" Your lip is jutted out in a pout, before Sunghoon maneuvers you onto his lap. He makes you move up closer, your ass resting high on his thighs. "He really didn't make you finish?" You groan, adjusting yourself to sit comfortably. "I mean, he did a few times. Just not as often as I would've liked. I don't want to talk about him." You rub your temples, Sunghoon's hands finding home on your hips. "Okay, we don't have to. Tell me what you like." "What I like?" You repeat, and he nods. "Yeah. Like…positions. Any kinks, anything I should know to make this the best experience possible."

"...Does it matter?" Your voice is meek, and he rolls his eyes. "Yes, it matters. I want you to feel good. If you don't know, I can figure it out. You just have to trust me." You feel your chest warm at his words, and you glance at his face as he speaks again. "We can go as slow as you want, this is about you." "But what about you?" You toy with the hem of your shirt, and he smiles. "I'll enjoy myself either way, don't worry about me." His hands squeeze your hips gently as he looks down at you. "You okay?" "I'm nervous." You mumble, looking away as he coos. "Baby, you don't need to be nervous. It's just me." His hand comes to hold your jaw gently, making you face him. He squeezes your cheeks gently, making your lips pucker.

"You're so pretty." He smiles as he compliments you, making you roll your eyes in embarrassment. "Stop." "Why? You are. Pretty little thing." He's teasing you, your hands now holding onto his wrist as he inches closer. "Should I kiss you?" "Yes." Your reply is more of a breath, and he chuckles. "Seriously, it's okay. I'm not going to hurt you, promise. Unless you're into that."

"Kiss me already." You groan, making him roll his eyes before closing the gap between you. His lips are soft and taste like cherry Chapstick. His hand lets go of your face, moving slightly down to the base of your neck. Your own hands move to fist his shirt as his teeth nip at your lower lip, a whimper from your throat making him move you impossibly higher on his lap. His other hand moves to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair to hold you steady as his tongue slips into your mouth.

"You'll stay the night, right?" He pulls away from your lips, eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation. You nod as best as you can with his hand in your hair, "Yeah. If you want me to." "I want you to." He whispers, before letting go of your hair. "Can we take this off?" He tugs at the shirt he gave you, and you move to tug it over your head. He lets you, watching the way your hair cascades down your back. His hands find home on your waist, his thumbs barely grazing the underside of your breasts as you look back at him, flinging the shirt somewhere behind you.

He doesn't say anything, only meeting your lips in a kiss. It's softer this time, but your tongue finds its way into his mouth gently. He sucks on it, hearing a low moan from you as your hips cant against his. "Sorry."

"No, don't be." He shakes his head, pressing chaste kisses to your lips. "Use me however you want, baby. That's what I'm here for."

"But–" "This is about you. Just let go." He meets your lips once more, kissing you deeply as his hands grip your hips tightly. He moves you against his hardening cock slowly, setting a gentle pace for you. You follow his lead, rutting against him as his hands move upward before you grab them and place them on your chest. He groans lowly into your mouth, thumbs grazing over your pebbled nipples as he drags his lips down your jaw, your soft whimpers filling the air as his teeth nip at your neck.

"S'fucking gorgeous." He murmurs against your skin, tracing his tongue down the gentle slope of your neck, a shudder running down your spine as he kisses down your chest. "Can I?" His doe eyes peer up at you though shaggy bangs, and you nod quickly. Your fingers card through his hair as his tongue flattens against your nipple as you groan.

"Feel good?" He mumbles against your skin. You only breathe out shakily as you nod, your lip bitten between your teeth as he nips and sucks his way across your chest, your nipples glistening with his spit. He scrapes his teeth against one gently, earning a guttural groan from your lips as he kisses up your chest. "Wanna taste you, angel. Can I?" Your pupils are blown as you look down at him, your fingers pushing his hair back as his hands dip below the sweatpants you're wearing. "Can I?" "Okay." Your voice is slightly raspy with lust, and he smiles softly before pressing a kiss to your lips. "We can stop anytime, just say the word."

You nod, moving off his lap. He lays you back on his pillows, kissing your lips softly before trailing down your body. "So beautiful, baby. Can't get enough of you." He kisses down your stomach, before his teeth catch on the waistband of the sweatpants you're wearing. He bites down carefully, pulling them down your legs as you cover your face with a whine. "Something wrong?" He calls, pulling them off your ankles and flinging them to the ground.

"No." You respond weakly, and he smirks as his fingers land on your thighs, pulling you closer to him. "You're lying." "You're just hot, okay?" You peek at him through your fingers, seeing him shake his head as he snaps the waistband of your underwear against your skin. You jolt as he smiles, before sinking to his stomach and spreading your legs. You hear a soft whisper of shit from his lips. "Sorry? Is something wrong?"

You try to move away, only for Sunghoon to hold your hips down. "You're fucking soaked, doll. Holy shit."

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, opting to press his face against the sticky fabric of your ruined underwear and inhale deeply, a whine from his throat hitting your ears as he noses at the fabric. "You're so fucking hot."

You feel his tongue before you reply, the underwear a useless attempt at a barrier as he finds your clit easily. Your thighs tense around his head, his preening at the taste of you just through the fabric is enough to make him cum in his pants. "Hoon…" You mewl, your fingers tugging at his hair to get his attention. He only hums in response.

"Take them off." Your whine is loud, and he hastily pulls your underwear down your plush thighs, throwing it over his shoulder as he dives back in, tongue lapping at your wet cunt like a man starved. You're a moaning mess as his pouty lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently as he pushes your thighs open further, working two fingers inside you carefully. He groans at the way you clench around them so tightly, your walls so warm and wet as he curls them into you.

"Taste so sweet, pretty. Would never give this up, ever." He murmurs against your clit, pressing wet kisses to it. You can't even respond, your eyes screwed shut as you cant your hips against his mouth harshly. "That's it, baby. Come on, give it to me." He's whining against your pussy, latching his lips to your clit as your thighs begin to tremble.

"H-Hold my hand." You mumble, and Sunghoon immediately laces his free hand with yours. "Need you to cum on my tongue, beautiful." His fingers find that spongy spot, making your soft belly cave in as your thighs close around his head. A choked moan leaves your lips as you coat his tongue and lips in your orgasm, your body trembling beneath him as you try to push his head away from you. "S'too much, Hoonie-" "One more, baby. You can give me one more." He bullies his shoulders through your thighs, moving to hover over you. He presses his wet lips to yours, your tongue attempting to collect any taste of you off of him. He lets you deepen the kiss, his hand snaking between your legs to rub teasing circles into your clit. Your mouth falls slack, your nails digging into his bicep. "One more, baby. Wanna feel you around me." "O-Okay."

He reaches over you to his nightstand, pulling the drawer open to find an empty box of condoms. "Fuck, wait. I think–" "Want it raw." You mumble, eyes closed as your hands run under his shirt, fingers tracing circles into his softly chiseled abdomen. His eyes are wide, his hand coming to your face, stroking it gently. "Look at me. Are you sure?"

"Positive. Want it, Hoonie. Wanna feel full." You barely open your eyes as you nod, turning your head slightly to kiss his palm. He shivers slightly, closing his eyes to compose himself as he nods. "O-Okay. Alright." He straightens, pulling his shirt over his head and quickly pushing his sweats down. You don't bother to look down, knowing in your heart the stretch will be worth a thousand viewings. He pulls you to the edge of the bed by your thighs, carefully tucking a pillow under your hips as he rests your leg on his chest. He kisses your ankle softly, before running the leaking tip of his cock through your wet folds. He nearly buckles, the warmth almost debilitating as he eased himself into you. Your mewl is so soft he almost misses it, his eyes darting to your face as he slowly sheaths himself inside you, biting his lip so hard he's sure he'll draw blood. Your lips are so swollen from the kissing and biting that he can't help but lean over and kiss you gently, burying himself to the hilt inside you. Your soft whisper of fuck is against his lips. "Move, Hoon." "You gotta give me a second, baby." He whines into your neck, making you clench around him. "Fuck, fuck don't do that." His hips jerk involuntarily, earning a choked moan from you as your nails dig into his shoulder. He straightens himself, figuring if he's going to cum fast, he'd better make it worth your while. He pulls out almost entirely, pushing your thighs to your chest as he bullies his cock back into you. Your moans are so loud he's lost in them, your chants of yes, yes, right there so overwhelming for him as he tries his hardest to stave off his own orgasm.

"Feel so fucking good, baby. Shit." He whimpers into the air, his grip on your thighs bruising as you mewl beneath him, your hands finding his wrists. "Kiss me, Hoonie. Wan' a kiss.." He leans forward, the kiss a mess of teeth and tongue as he bottoms out inside you repeatedly. His tip is bullying your sweet spot relentlessly, making you whine into his mouth. "Want you to cum in me." You whisper, and he almost stops as the words hit his ears but your nails drag down his back. "Want you to fill me up, Hoonie. Please."

"Anything you want, fuck. I'll give you anything, baby." His voice is choked as he trails his lips down your neck, feeling your cunt flutter around him in that oh-so-familiar way. "Gonna cum for me? Gonna cream all over this dick?" You only whimper in response, your teeth sinking softly into his shoulder. He feels himself spill inside you at the sensation, a deep groan from his soul as you cum right after. He doesn't stop working the two of you through it, his hips bordering the two of you into overstimulation as you claw at him.

He feels his skin sticky as he rests his forehead on your shoulder, your fingers now flat against the muscle of his back as you breathe in deeply. You shift slightly beneath him, before patting his shoulder. "I don't…I can't get up, I don't think. I can't feel my legs." You rasp, and he chuckles into your skin.

"Yeah, that's usually what's supposed to happen." He replies smugly, earning a sharp smack from your hand in the middle of his back. "Ouch! What the hell!" "I told you to stop making fun of me!" You huff, and he moves to look at you. "I'm not! Did I not just give you two mind blowing orgasms?"

"I wouldn't say mindblowing–" He rolls his eyes as he covers your mouth. "I made you cum, which was the goal. Was it not?" "No, the goal was to get over my ex." You say, muffled by the palm of his hand. He ponders a bit, before looking down at you intently. "Well, are you?" You feel your cheeks flush as you look away. "Maybe. Might need to go again, don't know. Not fully convinced." "Not fully convinced, she says." He removes his hand from your mouth as he teases you gently, and you roll your eyes. "Okay, fine. You're good, you got me." You admit tiredly, and he smiles.

"For how long?" "What?" You look up at him, and he shrugs. "How long do I have you?" You let your eyes scan his face as he looks down at you with curiosity in his eyes. You scoff, an amused tone to your voice. "You like me." "Obviously." He rolls his eyes, "Otherwise I wouldn't have offered." "You sly little minx. Luring me in here with the premise of getting me over my ex, knowing I'm on the rebound." You poke his chest, and he scoffs. "Clearly, you like me too. Or else you could've absolutely dodged my offer." "Or maybe I think you're hot and wouldn't mind seeing you outside of the cute little necklaces my sister makes you wear." You tease, and he shrugs. "I'll take what I can get. Either way, do you feel better? Less thoughts about that idiot, more good feelings?" You nod, sitting up on your elbows. "Let me take you to dinner, Hoon." He blinks at you, before glancing at the clock on his nightstand. "It's two in the morning, babe." "Not right now. Later. After you're done babysitting." You say, and he raises his brows. "Are you sure?" "I wouldn't offer if I didn't want to." Your tone is pointed, and he scoffs. "You want me so fucking bad." "In your dreams. Get off me, I'm all sticky."

He does just that, and takes the most gentle care of you. He lets you lean against him in the shower, he shampoos your hair and steals kisses when you least expect it. He changes his sheets while you try to sit comfortably in his desk chair, complaining of sore hips and thighs as he smirks to himself. "So much for a rebound, huh?" He murmurs into your hair as you snuggle into his side, making you snort. "Go to sleep, Sunghoon. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, babe."

"Not your babe, Hoon."

"Not yet."

5K notes · View notes

doumadono · 5 months ago

Text

AMORIA - act I

Warnings: finger fucking, humiliation, spanking, threesome, double pu**y penetration, oral (m & f receiving), squirting, asphyxiation, Dabi being Dabi, creampie, unprotected s*x, Shiggy is the boss, spit is everywhere, so is cum, more than 13k words (8k words for smut itself - you've been warned!), alcohol usage, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fem!reader

Synopsis: after a breakup, you found yourself at a club infamous for being frequented by villains, desperate to drown out all the bad memories. That’s where you encountered two of the most powerful villains — Shigaraki Tomura and Todoroki Touya, formerly known as Dabi. Upon discovering and testing your quirk, an idea began to take root in Tomura’s mind. And naturally, why stop there? Why not test your other talents too?

AMORIA - act II (to be added) AMORIA - playlist MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART III MAIN M.LIST

Waking up felt like crawling through fog, each blink a struggle against the dim, dizzy haze leftover from last night’s drinks. Blurred flashes came and went, half-formed memories that made little sense. The heaviness settled in slowly, the realization that this wasn’t your bed striking a second before something shifted against your waist.

A scarred arm draped loosely around your waist, its calloused fingers brushing your bare skin with a possessive kind of laziness, the rough pads of fingers brushing over the curve of your abdomen. Breath, hot and slow, fanned across your nape with each rise and fall of the man's chest. Dabi lay pressed against you, his white hair a tousled mess that grazed your shoulder, his sharp features softened just enough by sleep to make you forget, for a moment, how dangerous he really was. Even in sleep, he moved with a casual possessiveness, shifting closer, pressing his frame firmly against your back, grinding his slack cock against your bare ass from time to time. The warmth radiating from Todoroki felt alive, almost searing, as though the man behind you burned hotter than anything should.

The pounding in your skull throbbed with each inhale, a dizzying reminder of just how much you’d had to drink last night. The haze hadn’t lifted yet, your thoughts murky, slippery, and impossible to pin down. Bracing yourself, you blinked slowly, inhaling through parted lips as the sheer weight of his body pressed you further into the mattress. Shifting slightly, you turned, trying not to jolt yourself awake too quickly, and that’s when you saw him.

Tomura was sprawled out on your left, his wiry frame half-splayed across the mattress. His chest rose slowly, bare and warm. One hand was tucked under his head, elbow bent lazily, while the other rested on your hip. He still wore his protective glove. If he hadn’t, you knew what a single slip might mean.

A soft sound escaped your lips - something between a gasp and a whimper - as you shifted your legs, and that’s when you felt it. The unmistakable slickness between your thighs, sticky, cold and raw, made you freeze. The memories slammed into you like a tidal wave, fragments of last night piecing themselves together.

Hands - scarred, rough, and demanding - roaming over your plushy skin, leaving trails of bruises in their wake. Mouths pressed against yours, against your neck, your chest, your thighs, your pussy, taking and claiming every inch of you. The sound of low voices, rasping commands and dark praises that made your body shudder. Your skin still felt branded, marked by their touch, every nerve tingling as if it were reliving the night in flashes.

Shifting your hips again, the motion earned another quiet sound that you couldn’t suppress, and the arm wrapped around your waist tightened slightly in response. Dabi stirred, a low, guttural hum rumbling in his chest, his lips brushing faintly against the curve of your shoulder. His fingers flexed against your abdomen, pulling you closer with a lazy dominance that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Don’t start squirming unless you’re ready for round two,” came his voice, gravelly with sleep but still laced with that dark, teasing edge. He didn’t even open his eyes, his body already responding to the subtle movements of yours, hips rolling just enough to remind you exactly how tangled the three of you had been hours before.

On your other side, Tomura’s gloved fingers pressed lightly into your hip, his red eyes cracking open just enough to watch you through the veil of his lashes. A voice, dark and dripping with mockery, cut through the haze. "Oh, sweet thing, you’re finally awake.” Shigaraki slowly moved his hand up your body, caressing the curve of your waist and reaching your chin in the end. His thumb and index finger clamped around your chin, firm and unyielding, tilting your head with a deliberate force that left no room for resistance. "What a perfect morning for us, don’t you think, Dabi? I can’t fucking wait to ruin that pretty pussy of hers all over again. And don’t you even think about leaving us, Amoria. You’re ours, now and forever."

The club pulsed with heavy bass, each beat reverberating in your chest, and a thick haze of smoke clung to the air, a cocktail of cigarettes, weed, and cheap perfume mixing with the ever-present burn of alcohol. It was the kind of place you were warned to avoid, especially alone - one of those places where villains went to disappear, blend into the night like smoke.

But after tonight? Warnings didn’t mean much. The sting of a fresh breakup had driven you straight into the dark, to the kind of place that would swallow up your thoughts and leave you numb. No one you knew would set foot here, especially alone. The criminals and castaways who haunted these walls weren’t just rumors; they were way too real. But right now, you didn’t care.

Perched at the bar with one leg hooked over the other, a tight red dress hugging your figure, and a jet-black bag draped over your shoulder, you sipped slowly on something the bartender had called a Blood Moon. A wicked blend of dark rum, cherry liqueur, and a touch of grenadine, it tasted like rebellion in a glass, something that burned on the way down but left just enough sweetness behind to make you want more.

The air grew heavier, thick with tension, and it took you a minute to notice why.

High above on the VIP floor, two figures lounged in shadows. But it wasn’t the distance that made them unapproachable - it was who they were, and the weight of what they carried. They noticed you, of course. It was impossible not to feel their stares, the way they sized you up, cutting through the smoky air like blades.

Shigaraki stood above, leaning against the steel railing of the VIP lounge, his posture loose and almost bored. Dressed in a sleek, dark suit that clung to his wiry frame, he seemed a creature entirely his own, something both sharp and unsettling, his presence a chill running through the pulse of the club. His hands, resting on the railing, wore thin black gloves over two fingers on each hand - a careful precaution, one you didn’t want to dwell on. The other fingers tapped rhythmically against the metal, a steady, almost taunting beat.

Next to him, more menace than man, lounged Touya Todoroki - Dabi, though that name was practically useless now. His hair, white as death, fell messily over his eyes, but his gaze - heavy-lidded, cerulean gaze, bored directly into you. It was the kind of stare that looked through you, stripping you bare and seeing every lie, every flaw. Like he’d already decided exactly what to do with you. His white hair was catching the colored lights and casting strange shadows across his face. He wasn’t wearing a suit - of course he wasn’t. His choice of attire was as casual as it was provocative: a black, fitted, buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a mess of scars trailing up his forearms, and ripped jeans that sat low on his hips, held up by nothing more than a thick, black, leather belt.

Shigaraki’s eyes were assessing you as though deciding what to do with a curiosity he hadn’t planned on. Dabi’s smirk had a different edge - sharper, darker, a look that made your pulse spike in ways you’d never admit out loud. Whatever this was, it wasn’t simple curiosity.

There was no reason to be here. Nothing logical, anyway. The breakup had left you restless, something bitter and rebellious churning in your chest. Revenge on your ex? Maybe. A flirtation with something you shouldn’t have? Probably. Or maybe it was just the need to feel alive, if only for a night, surrounded by people who understood what it meant to live outside the law.

The bartender slid another drink in front of you - a Blow Job. Confused, you looked up. “I didn’t order this.”

He jerked his thumb toward the bar, where Dabi now stood, ordering a fresh bottle of whiskey. His eyes, that unmistakable blue, were locked on you. He didn’t bother looking away, just let his eyes roam over your body, slowly, deliberately, with an intensity that was anything but polite.

“Guess he did,” the bartender shrugged, turning away to tend to someone else.

Dabi raised his drink in your direction, smirk tugging at his scarred mouth, a silent invitation - or maybe a dare.

Dabi didn’t move at first, leaning casually against the bar, his smirk sharp as a knife. The bottle of whiskey dangled loosely from one hand, the other lifting his glass to his lips, eyes never leaving you. His gaze was a slow drag, deliberate, assessing. “Why don’t you come join us upstairs, princess?” His voice was low, gravelly, and loud enough to cut through the music. There was no question in the way he said it - more an invitation wrapped in a command, laced with an edge that made it clear he didn’t hear no very often.

Tilting your head, you gave him a once-over, matching his intensity with your own. “Not interested,” you said, your tone sharp, controlled. “I’m fine right here.”

The smirk widened, and he let out a short, amused laugh. “Yeah?” He leaned closer, setting the glass down on the bar with a sharp clink. “I don’t think you know what you’re turning down, sweetheart.”

Something in the way he said it sent a flicker of heat through you, but you held your ground, your leg crossing over the other as you turned back to your drink. “I’ve got all the excitement I need down here,” you said dryly, lifting your glass with a raised brow.

Dabi didn’t back off. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence radiating warmth that felt too intimate, too deliberate. He dipped his head slightly, his breath brushing your ear as he spoke, low and dangerous. “You shouldn’t play games with people like us. We don’t do soft. We don’t do fair.”

He wasn’t bluffing, and you knew it.

Straightening up, he looked at you again, letting his hand trail along the bar as he stepped back. “But if you’re really not interested…” His shrug was slow, his smirk still carved onto his face as though he knew exactly how this would end. “Suit yourself.”

You hated how your pulse quickened, hated the way the challenge lingered in the air between you. The words don’t do soft repeated in your head, pulling at the threads of your resolve. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the week you’d had, but before you could stop yourself, your feet were moving, heels clicking against the marble floor as you followed him.

He didn’t even check to see if you were coming. The bastard already knew.

The staircase was tucked into the far corner, shadowed and out of sight of most of the club.

Dabi’s shoulders led the way, the bottle swinging lazily in his grip as if he didn’t care that every eye on the dancefloor followed his movements. The music faded slightly as you ascended, but the air grew heavier, thicker, as though the space above carried its own gravity.

The VIP lounge was dimly lit, the low, amber light reflecting off a sleek, black leather couch where Shigaraki sat sprawled out, one leg hooked lazily over the other. His white hair fell messily over his forehead, a cigarette dangling between two fingers as he exhaled a slow plume of smoke. A lowball glass sat in his other hand, whiskey and ice swirling in lazy circles as he tilted it absentmindedly. His red eyes flicked up as you entered, sharp and cutting, taking you in with an intensity that made your skin prickle.

“Finally brought her up, huh?” His voice was smooth but tinged with that unmistakable edge of boredom, like he couldn’t care less, yet his eyes told a different story. They lingered on you a beat too long, assessing, weighing, before he took another drag from his cigarette.

Dabi shrugged, tossing himself into the opposite end of the couch. “Wasn’t easy,” he said, his smirk never wavering. “She’s got a mouth on her.”

Shigaraki’s lips twitched into something close to a grin, a humorless thing that didn’t reach his eyes. “Good. It’ll make things more interesting.”

You stood at the edge of the room, every instinct screaming at you to leave, but the weight of their gazes pinned you in place.

Dabi poured a generous amount of whiskey into his glass, then tilted the bottle toward the empty one next to Shigaraki’s. He didn’t ask if you wanted a drink; he poured you one anyway. “Sit,” Dabi growled, nodding toward the space between them on the couch, his voice casual, but there was a command in it that left no room for argument.

Shigaraki’s hand rested on the back of the couch, fingers drumming slowly against the leather as he watched you, waiting. “Unless you’re scared,” the white haired man said, his voice soft, almost mocking, a challenge hanging on every syllable.

Something in your chest tightened. Pride or stubbornness - maybe both - kept your feet moving until you lowered yourself onto the couch, your body painfully aware of the heat radiating from both sides. The glass of whiskey was pressed into your hand, Dabi’s long fingers brushing against yours as he handed it over.

“Good girl,” the leader of the League of Villains murmured, leaning back into the couch with a smirk that promised nothing about tonight would be soft.

The leather couch felt sinfully soft beneath you. You cradled the glass of whiskey in your hands.

The air in the room thickened like tar, suffocating and inescapable.

Shigaraki tilted his head, studying you with the same detached curiosity as a predator playing with its prey. His crimson gaze burned with an intensity that seemed to peel back your skin, exposing something raw and vulnerable beneath.

Your throat felt dry despite the whiskey still warming your hand. Steeling your nerves, you met his gaze head-on. “You’re the leader, right?” Your voice was steady, though you hated how breathless it sounded. “Why would someone like you want someone like me around?”

Shigaraki’s lips curled slowly, something far too knowing glimmering in his eyes. “Someone like you?” he repeated, voice smooth, low, and entirely dangerous. “You underestimate yourself.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearm on his knee, letting his fingers hang loosely, inches from where your thigh rested against the couch. Shigaraki chuckled, a low, dry sound that barely stirred the air. “Let’s say I’m a connoisseur of beauty.” His words were slow, deliberate. “And you,” he continued, letting his eyes drag down your frame in a way that felt like a physical touch, “look exquisite in that dress.”

Dabi snorted from the other end of the couch, his smirk widening as he poured himself another drink. “Connoisseur of beauty,” he repeated mockingly, shaking his head. “You’re so full of pretentious shit, boss.”

Shigaraki didn’t so much as glance at him, his focus locked entirely on you.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks despite yourself, and you took a longer sip of your drink, hoping it might disguise the faint blush.

Shigaraki noticed, of course — he didn’t miss much, apparently. His grin widened, a touch of smugness slipping into his expression.

"You're blushing, doll," Dabi pointed out bluntly, his voice dripping with mockery. "That’s fucking adorable."

Shigaraki, clearly entertained, shifted closer. His partially gloved hand reached out, resting lightly on your knee. "So," he drawled, his voice conversational, as though he weren’t sitting far too close for comfort, "what’s someone like you doing in a place like this? This isn’t exactly the scene for someone so soft."

You glanced at him, the faintest flicker of a challenge in your eyes. "What makes you think I’m soft?"

Shigaraki’s lips twitched into a smirk. "You don’t exactly scream villain." He tilted his head, studying you. "But you’ve got an edge. Something’s brought you here. What is it?"

The question lingered, heavy and probing.

You took a sip of the whiskey, its burn cutting through your nerves as you turned your attention to the man sprawled across from you. You exhaled, feeling the whiskey’s fire loosen your tongue. “My boyfriend cheated on me,” you confessed, bitter and sharp. “With someone I thought was my friend.” You exhaled slowly, setting your glass on the table as you straightened your shoulders. "So, here I am. Figured I might as well see how the other side lives."

Dabi let out a low, wry whistle. "Oh, the little doll has been hurt? How sad must be your life ever since!”

"Cheaters are the worst," Tomura stated matter-of-factly. "But that doesn’t explain why you’d come here of all places. This club isn’t exactly known for its wholesome clientele."

You shrugged, feeling the tension in the room shift slightly. "Maybe I wanted to see if there was anyone left in the world worse than him."

Dabi laughed, a dry, humorless sound that made the corners of his scarred mouth twist upward.

"Oh, sweetheart," Shigaraki started, his hand leaving your knee to retrieve his cigarette, "you definitely came to the right place." He took a slow drag, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. "But you might want to be careful. Looking for something sharp enough to make you feel again might be a risky move.”

Your breath hitched, but you clenched your jaw, refusing to break under his scrutiny. “Maybe,” you admitted, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. “What does it matter to you?”

Tomura’s smirk widened, slow and predatory, as though he’d already won some unspoken game. “It matters because you walked into our world,” he murmured, voice dark as the shadows clinging to the room’s edges. “And I’m curious just how far you’re willing to fall.”

Dabi poured himself another drink, downed it, and set his glass down with a sharp clink. "We don’t fix broken things. We break them further."

His scarred hand lifted, fingers brushing along the curve of your jaw, his calloused thumb briefly rubbing against your lower lip before trailing to your neck, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. His long fingers ghosted over your shoulder, where your pulse thudded traitorously fast. Dabi leaned in, inhaling deeply, as if memorizing your scent, the warmth of his breath searing against your skin. He stuck out his tongue and ran it up your pulsepoint.

A cold chill ran down your spine.

“Sweet,” the scarred man murmured, voice low and rough. “You smell so clean, so untouched.”

Shigaraki’s amusement flickered in the curve of his mouth as he reached for the whiskey bottle, pouring another drink for you. “Where do you work?” His tone was casual, but the underlying curiosity felt anything but.

You hesitated, weighing the danger of answering truthfully, but there was no point in lying. They’d sniff out deceit like blood in the water. “Endeavor’s agency,” you admitted carefully. “I handle paperwork.”

The moment the words left your lips, the atmosphere in the room shifted violently, like the air had been sucked from it.

Dabi’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of raw fury that turned his eyes into blazing shards of ice. His glass hit the nearest wall with a deafening crash, shards of crystal scattering across the floor. The amber liquid smeared down the wallpaper like a wound.

“Endeavor,” Dabi snarled, his voice venomous, the name leaving his lips like a curse. He surged to his feet, towering over you in an instant. “You work for that bastard, cunt?” Touya’s chest heaved, nostrils flaring as though he could still smell Endeavor’s presence clinging to you. The growl in his voice was feral, like a wildfire barely contained. He didn’t wait for an answer, his scarred hands twitching at his sides as if itching to burn something — or rather someone.

Instinct overrode reason, propelling a desperate retreat from the leather couch. The corner of the room felt like a safer haven. Your breath came in short, uneven bursts, heart pounding as you pressed yourself against the wall, putting as much distance as you could between yourself and the sheer force of his rage. “I… It’s nothing but a job… I need to pay rent, to pay bills… And he pays well…”

Tomura rose from his spot slowly, movements fluid and purposeful. He reached Dabi with unhurried ease, his touch strangely tender as his fingers brushed along the edges of that scarred jaw. “Touya.” His voice was soft yet commanding, laced with something purely intimate.

Dabi’s breath hitched but didn’t slow as his azure eyes were locked on your trembling form, fury still crackling beneath his skin like an electric wire.

Tomura’s fingers tightened, holding the other man in place — not restraining, but rather grounding. He tilted Dabi’s chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. “Look at me.” Shigaraki pressed a firm, grounding kiss against the jagged edge of Touya’s scarred jawline. “Breathe,” he murmured against the marred skin, voice softer now, a private thing not meant for anyone else’s ears. “And calm the fuck down.”

Shigaraki didn’t wait for any response from the scarred man. He yanked Dabi closer by the collar of his jacket, crashing their mouths together with bruising force.

A low, guttural sound escaped Dabi’s throat as Shigaraki bit down on his lower lip, dragging his teeth across scarred flesh in a way that was equal parts punishment and possession. Dabi hissed, but instead of pulling back, he leaned in harder, matching the intensity with reckless hunger. His fingers clawed into Shigaraki’s sides, pulling him closer, like he couldn’t bear the distance between them.

Their tongues danced together.

The sight was mesmerizing and intimate, enough to make your heart thud erratically against your ribcage. You watched, your mouth hanging open slightly, a realization dawning — they were a thing, unmistakably so, and they were unabashedly natural about their affection.

Shigaraki finally broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Dabi’s, murmuring something low you couldn’t hear.

“Better?” Shigaraki finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dabi exhaled shakily, his scarred lips quirking into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re such a bastard, boss,” he rasped, voice low but lacking any real venom. The tension in his frame eased.

Shigaraki finally turned his attention back to you, his expression calm, composed, as though nothing unusual had just happened. “Why don’t you take a seat over there, doll?” He gestured to a plush leather armchair nearby, his voice cool but not unkind. “Relax, and tell us a bit about your quirk. I’m curious about that part.”

You moved to the armchair, its soft leather embracing your form as you tried to compose yourself.

Dabi, his earlier fury now cooled, returned to his spot on the couch beside Shigaraki. Rather than pouring himself another drink, he simply grabbed the whiskey bottle, tilting it back for a long, hard swallow, his eyes never leaving your form.

Gathering your nerves, you began, "My quirk is called Amoria," you uttered, your voice steady despite the swirling emotions. "When I kiss someone, I can amplify their quirks, enhancing their abilities beyond their usual limits for a couple of minutes.. And if I am in love with that person, the effect is not only stronger but lasts longer, too."

Dabi set the bottle down with a thud, a smirk playing on his lips, while Shigaraki’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “You might actually be more useful than I initially thought,” Dabi remarked, grinning. There was no warmth in his smile, only a sardonic twist of his lips that suggested he saw you not as a person but as a potential tool to be exploited. "Especially with a quirk like that."

Shigaraki, who had been quietly observing the exchange, perked up with a renewed interest that bordered on avid fascination. "I think we need to test this power of yours," Tomura declared, a hint of excitement threading through his usually calm demeanor.

Your heart skipped a beat at the directness of his demand. The thought of kissing Shigaraki, of being so close to someone so dangerously powerful, sent a shiver of fear mixed with a disgust down your spine. You hesitated, your instincts screaming for caution You shifted uncomfortably in the armchair, the weight of their gazes making you feel exposed and vulnerable. "I — I'd rather not," you stammered, trying to muster your courage to deny him.

Shigaraki’s expression darkened at your reluctance. He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper that somehow filled the entire room. “Don’t make me regret my curiosity,” he said, his words carrying a sweet venom. “It would be a shame to have to disintegrate you for withholding such a valuable demonstration.”

The threat, veiled in a veneer of charm, was clear. Swallowing hard, you realized that your options were few and your situation precarious.

With a heavy heart and mind racing with anxious thoughts, you stood from the armchair and approached Shigaraki and Dabi, the tension palpable.

Shigaraki's gaze was fixed, predatory, as he watched you come closer. In a swift motion, he reached out and grasped your wrist, pulling you towards him with an unexpected force.

Caught off balance, your only options were to awkwardly straddle his lap or risk tumbling to the floor. Choosing the former, you settled uneasily atop him, feeling his hands begin a slow, almost explorative motion up and down your waist. His touch was paradoxically gentle, fingers tracing the fabric of your dress as he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent with an almost reverent curiosity. His chapped lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto yours with a piercing intensity.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, Shigaraki moved his gloved hand to your neck, guiding you down into a kiss. His lips were rough, tasting strongly of whiskey and cigarettes.

As the kiss deepened, a faint glowing aura began to radiate around you, the visual manifestation of your quirk activating under the intimate contact.

Tomura shifted beneath you, his hands moving to your back to pull you closer, an unspoken demand for more of the power you were unwittingly amplifying. Shigaraki could feel the raw power filling his veins with a raw, unnatural power, every cell in his body seeming to awaken with renewed vigor.

When he finally broke the kiss, a thin string of saliva connected you momentarily, and you whined at the loss of contact.

Shigaraki's breath was heavy, his eyes alight with a wild sort of exhilaration. "Fuuuck. I've never felt so powerful before," he confessed, his voice hoarse with wonder. He turned to Dabi, his expression one of awe mixed with a fierce triumph. "Not even after months in that tube at the doctor's hideout when I was getting boosted. This is fucking incredible."

"Come here," Shigaraki panted, voice low, roughened by desire and authority. There was no room for disobedience, no chance to escape. His fingertips pressed into the soft curve of your waist, sliding possessively up and down your sides, mapping every inch of skin through the thin fabric of your dress. “Kiss me again,” the leader of the League of Villains demanded, the edge in his voice razor-sharp, leaving no space for refusal. The implied threat lingered, dangerous and undeniable — you knew exactly what he was capable of. One wrong move, one hint of defiance, and he could end you with the barest touch.

So you leaned in for a kiss.

His mouth crushed against yours, demanding everything. He groaned against your mouth, low and guttural, his body rigid with restraint he was quickly losing. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, sharp and possessive. He never knew someone else’s spit could taste that good. His crimson eyes burned with violent need, pupils blown wide with lust.

Your head spun, breath stolen as his tongue delved deeper, tangling with yours in a battle for control you’d already lost. You gasped against his mouth when his grip on your hips tightened, pressing you down against the hard, unmistakable evidence of his arousal straining beneath his suit pants.

Shit. You were completely, utterly fucked.

A sharp, irritated growl suddenly shattered the charged atmosphere.

Touya's jaw clenched as he watched Shigaraki’s hands roam possessively over your body, his fingers digging into your waist like he owned you. The sight clearly infuriated the scarred man.

Shigaraki didn’t loosen his grip on you, his crimson gaze flicking lazily toward Dabi without a shred of concern. “Don’t forget who the boss is.”

“Thought we were sharing,” Dabi drawled, voice low and threatening. “Didn’t think you’d keep all the fun for yourself, boss.” Dabi yanked you off Shigaraki and forced you to straddle his lap. His kiss was brutal — searing and unforgiving, all teeth and tongue, like he was determined to brand himself into you.

Suddenly, a heat exploded where his fingers dug into your waist, the surge of your quirk sparking to life as your mouths tangled together. You felt it hit him — a sudden, visceral rush of boosted power crackling beneath his skin like wildfire.

Dabi broke the kiss with a ragged gasp, his pupils blown wide with lust and power. “Fuck,” he rasped, eyes blazing like molten fire. “Fucking amazing.”

Before you could answer, a sharp snarl tore from Shigaraki’s throat. He was on you in an instant. “She’s fucking mine, Touya,” Tomura snapped, voice low and deadly, every syllable dripping with dangerous intent.

Before you could even steady yourself, Shigaraki yanked you back into his lap with brutal force, his fingers digging possessively into your thighs. You gasped, hands bracing against his chest as he hauled you close, locking you in place.

His tongue forced its way past your lips again, demanding dominance.

You had no room to resist — not with the way his hips rolled beneath you. You whimpered against his mouth as he rocked his hips into yours again, letting you feel just how hard he was beneath the rough fabric of his pants. The friction was intoxicating, setting every nerve alight with white-hot need. And you discovered you weren’t scared anymore.

Shigaraki broke the kiss just long enough to rasp, "I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard, doll." His voice was raw, wrecked with desire and possessive rage, leaving no room for interpretation. His red eyes gleamed with dark intent, lips twisted into something between a snarl and a smirk.

Your breath hitched, shock and adrenaline colliding in your chest. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think — trapped between two villains driven by lust, power, and an insatiable need to claim what they thought was theirs.

Dabi wiped his mouth with the back of his scarred hand, eyes still blazing with want and jealousy. His tongue flicked over his lower lip, tasting the remnants of your saliva as his gaze snapped to where you were pinned on Shigaraki’s lap, bodies tangled in a possessive, desperate clash of dominance and need. “Oh, so now you get greedy, huh?” Dabi sneered, his scarred lips curling into a mocking smirk. “You’re not the only one who wants a piece of her, Shiggy.” His eyes flicked to yours, sharp and filled with something feral, before settling back on Tomura. “I think I deserve a turn with that little whore after that little taste.”

“Hey, I’m not a whore!” You protested with furrowed brows.

“Oi! Shut the fuck up,” Touya replied dismissively.

Tomura’s hand sneaked under the edge of your tight dress, boldly rubbing against your clothed pussy. You were oh so hot down there.

You parted your lips, letting out a cute moan as you shivered.

Dabi’s jaw clenched, anger flickering hotly behind his eyes. He tilted his head, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face as he dragged his gaze down your trembling form. “C’mon, boss.” His voice dipped lower, almost coaxing but still dangerous. “You really wanna share her here? In this shitty club, with all these useless extras nearby?” His tongue flicked over his bottom lip as his gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “We could take her back to the hideout. Somewhere private.”

Shigaraki’s lips twisted into a grin, sharp and predatory. He looked at you, tilting your chin up with a single finger, forcing you to meet his unrelenting gaze. “What do you say, sweetheart?” His voice dripped with mock sweetness, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a way that made you shiver. “Hope you are ready to come with us.”

You couldn’t speak, your throat tightening as their intentions became horrifyingly clear, so you just shook your head.

Shigaraki sighed and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “I wasn’t fucking asking.”

Before you could even process the command, Dabi was already moving, improving his leather jacket. His gaze lingered on you, sharp and hungry. “Move your ass,” he warned, his voice a dangerous purr. “We don��t like to be kept waiting.”

Shigaraki’s hand trailed down your waist, tugging you off his lap with rough impatience as he rose to his feet. His fingers never left your body, keeping you tethered to him like a prize he’d already claimed.

Your heart pounded in your chest as they guided you toward the club’s shadowed back exit, Dabi’s molten gaze burning into your back while Shigaraki’s hand stayed possessively firm around your waist.

There was no escape.

And the most terrifying truth was that, deep down, a part of you didn’t want to escape at all.

Your body trembled as you were bent over the edge of the bed, completely naked — exposed and pliant, just the way they liked.

The sheets bunched beneath your hands as you braced yourself, trying to focus — trying to breathe — but it was impossible with Dabi lounging lazily in front of you.

His scarred back pressed into the mattress, one arm propped behind his head as he gazed at you through half-lidded eyes, utterly at ease. His cock, flushed and hard, rested against his stomach as he watched you.

“Come on, don’t get shy now,” Dabi murmured, his gravelly voice a mixture of teasing and condescension. His thumb traced your bottom lip briefly before guiding himself into the warm heat of your mouth.

Your tongue welcomed him, slick and obedient, and he groaned lowly, his hips rocking just enough to force you to take him deeper.

Touya hissed through his teeth, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head. “That’s it. Good girl.”

The sound of his pleasure reverberated through you, but your focus shattered when a new sensation made itself known — a hot, slick pressure against your folds. Your thighs twitched as the sensation grew bolder — tracing the curve of your pussy lips before pushing past them.

A muffled whine vibrated around Dabi’s length, and you instinctively arched. With a sharp pop, you pulled off Dabi’s cock, saliva trailing from the corner of your mouth as you gasped for air and moaned shamelessly. Your voice wavered with desperation as you glanced over your shoulder.

There he was — Shigaraki, kneeling between your spread legs, his crimson gaze half-lidded and focused solely on you. “Stop fucking squirming,” he rasped impatiently, giving your cheek a hard spank, his voice raw and hungry. His calloused fingers spread your ass cheeks wide, holding you open for his eager mouth. The drag of his tongue from your soaked entrance to your clit sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, and your knee buckled.

Your mouth formed a large “O”, and a tear threatened to roll down your cheek.

“Tsk. Pathetic,” Dabi scoffed from in front of you.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he delivered a stinging slap to your cheek. Your head snapped back, and your wide, tear-glazed eyes met his.

“There we go,” he smirked, clearly pleased to have your full attention again. Slowly, almost deliberately, Dabi ran his hand over his throbbing cock, his skin glistening with the remnants of your spit. He stroked himself lazily, letting you watch every movement, every twitch of his muscles. “I didn’t say you could stop, doll.”

He tapped the head of his cock against your lips, and of course you accepted him in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, up and down, gently flexing your tongue to tease the massive vein located underneath his cock. A tear finally escaped your eye.

Dabi clicked his tongue, his hand tangling into your hair before giving a sharp tug that forced you off him with an audible pop. Your lips parted, spit trailing down and on his thigh as you looked up at him, dazed and desperate. “You’re pathetic, you know that, whore?” he taunted, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, teasing himself while spreading your saliva all over his shaft. “Can’t even handle both of us, huh?”

“I am… Not a whore,” you reminded him, slowly opening your mouth to moan loudly as Tomura spanked your ass a few more times.

Behind you, Shigaraki groaned impatiently. “Stop hogging her attention,” he rasped, his voice rough with want. Without waiting, he buried his face between your legs again, his tongue flicking messily over your swollen clit before dragging back down to your slick entrance.

“Shit— Tomura…” you gasped, your back arching instinctively as you ground your pussy against his face. “Just like that.”

“Focus,” Dabi growled from above, snapping his fingers to reclaim your gaze.

Your eyes darted back to him, your face still flushed and your lips glistening.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, that sadistic little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You nodded and wrapped your lips around his shaft again. You pushed your mouth down his shaft until you felt his white, pubic hair that surrounded his cock tickle your nose. While you were sucking Dabi's cock, doing your best to make him satisfied with your efforts, your hand instinctively drifted down between your trembling thighs, fingers seeking relief. Just as you brushed against your slick folds, a rough, calloused hand snatched your wrist, shoving it away.

“Don’t,” Shigaraki growled, his voice a low, dangerous rasp that sent a shiver up your spine.

Before you could protest, his hands gripped your hips, spreading your ass cheeks apart until your pussy was exposed, open, and vulnerable to him. You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on you.

Shigaraki’s tongue teased the sensitive edges of your entrance slowly, circling in a way that made your thighs tremble. Then, without warning, he pushed in, his tongue slipping into your tight hole, wet and insistent.

The sensation sent white-hot pleasure through you, a sharp, helpless moan tearing from your throat as you arched beneath his touch. Spit spilled from corners of your mouth, dripping on Touya’s thighs.

Dabi’s cock twitched against your tongue at the sight, his grip tightening in your hair. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough with amusement. “You really are a mess, aren’t you?”

Behind you, Shigaraki decided to shove your thigh up, pressing your knee onto the edge of the bed to grant himself full, unhindered access. His mouth returned to your pussy, more frantic this time — his tongue working in desperate, messy licks as if he were starved for the taste of you.

Between Dabi’s demanding gaze and his cock successfully suffocating you, and Shigaraki’s relentless tongue attacking you from behind, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped your lips.

“That’s more like it,” Dabi praised mockingly, his smile turning cruel as he watched you unravel.

Shigaraki let out a low, pleased hum, his face buried between your thighs yet again. “She’s close,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, his nails digging lightly into your flesh as he kept you exactly where he wanted you while he fucked you with his long, skilled tongue.

“Better not pass out yet,” Dabi added, his voice a wicked purr as he delivered a few hard slaps to your face. “We’re just getting started.”

You pulled off Dabi’s cock with a gasp, your chest heaving as you desperately sucked in air between moans. Your lips were swollen, glistening with spit.

Dabi growled low in his throat, a dangerous sound that made your core tighten. His scarred hand curled around the base of his cock, dragging the flushed, leaking head down the side of your face, smearing it across your heated skin before settling it against your parted lips.

“Don’t get lazy on me now,” he warned, voice gravelly with irritation.

Your tongue darted out instinctively, flicking teasingly over his tip as he groaned softly in response. You played with him, swirling your tongue around the angry red head before slowly wrapping your lips around him again. You moaned, your eyelids fluttering in bliss. Inch by inch, you pushed him deeper into your mouth, sucking greedily until you took as much as you could manage, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, making you gag each time.

Your lips stretched tight around his veiny girth, and you began moving in earnest, bobbing your head forward and back, each bounce deliberate and needy. One of your hands reached to cup and fondle his balls gently, coaxing soft curses from his lips, while the other steadied yourself on his shredded thigh.

Dabi hissed between gritted teeth, his cock twitching angrily in your mouth, pulsing in warning as he grew closer to his release.

Then Shigaraki joined in.

You gasped softly when you felt his fingers slide into your slick pussy from behind, curling just right as they pressed against your walls. He didn’t stop there, though — his mouth returned to you, tongue swirling over your folds in tandem with his digits. Your knees nearly buckled from the dual sensations, but you didn’t falter.

If anything, you grew more relentless.

You let your spit spill messily. Your hair was tangled, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears as you worked him harder, sucking him down greedily. You didn’t care how fucked out you looked. It didn’t matter after all.

“Fuck—” Dabi hissed, his voice shaky now, his composure cracking. His hand fisted into your hair, tugging hard enough to make your scalp sting. He bucked his hips into your mouth with wild desperation, chasing his release. “That’s it, you little slut,” he grunted through clenched teeth, his voice rough and broken. With one final thrust, he pressed your face flush against his pubic bone, holding you there as he came. His cock twitched violently, spilling hot, thick ropes of cum down your throat in short, jerky spurts.

You moaned around him, the vibrations sending another shiver through his overstimulated body as he groaned loudly, rolling his head back against the pillow. His grip on your hair loosened just slightly, and when you pulled back, your mouth was still full of his seed.

Dabi cracked open one eye, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he looked down at you. “Don’t swallow yet,” he ordered, his voice strained but firm.

You stared up at him, cheeks puffed slightly and tongue cradling his release as you awaited his next command, your body trembling while Shigaraki’s relentless ministrations continued behind you. You could only whine in a strange voice as you didn’t want to spill a single drop of Dabi’s cum.

Shigaraki's tongue and fingers worked you over relentlessly, a maddening rhythm of teasing and torment. He slipped two fingers inside you with an ease that made you shiver, his knuckles pressing against your entrance as he angled his head just right. His tongue flicked purposefully over the swollen bundle of nerves, the sensation sharp and consuming.

Your thighs trembled again, threatening to buckle, but Shigaraki’s grip held you firm, forcing you to take it all.

“Open up.”

Dabi’s voice cut through the haze, a low, commanding drawl that demanded your focus. Propped casually on his elbow where he lay, he watched you with narrowed, calculating eyes.

You obeyed without hesitation, your lips parting, tongue sticking out just enough to display the evidence of your submission — his seed still cradled there.

A faint hum of satisfaction vibrated from Dabi’s throat. “Look at you,” he murmured, his scarred hand reaching out to stroke your cheek in a gesture that was far too gentle given the situation. The warmth of his palm lingered as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head upward with effortless control.

“Been such a good girl for us,” he praised, his tone soft but tinged with that edge of condescension that made your stomach tighten. He pushed himself up onto his knees, his presence now towering over you as he gazed down at your wrecked expression. The grin that stretched across his face was wild and possessive, a cruel glint in his pale eyes as he leaned in closer. “Open wide,” he mused, and you could do nothing but obey, your mouth parting further at his demand.

Dabi held your gaze as he spat, the slow descent of a globe of his saliva deliberate. It landed messily on your upper lip, the warmth of it pooling before sliding down into your waiting mouth, mingling with his cum and your own lingering spit. Your breath hitched as you felt your pride stripped away.

“Now, you can swallow,” he ordered softly, his voice dripping with twisted satisfaction.

You did, your throat working as you obeyed, your gaze never leaving his. The desperation in your eyes only seemed to amuse him more, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw in reward as you blinked up at him.

It was then that Shigaraki’s fingers curled inside you, finding that perfect spongy spot deep within. Your body tensed, a loud, broken whine escaping your lips as your walls spasmed around his digits, your release crashing over you in uncontrollable waves. Shigaraki’s tongue stayed firm against your clit, drawing out every last tremor as you came apart.

You couldn’t stop the shy, breathy whimper that left you as your body sagged slightly, your face flushed in embarrassment.

Shigaraki pulled back just enough to growl lowly against you, the vibration sending another spark of sensitivity through your core as you cleaned your folds from remnants of your release. “Good girl,” the man praised, his voice rough and husky with satisfaction.

Dabi chuckled darkly from above you, thumb tilting your chin up so you were forced to meet his gaze again. “Don’t get all shy on us now,” he teased, his smile sharp and devilish. “You’re doing so well.”

Shigaraki’s gloved hand — slick with your cum — wrapped firmly around your chin, tilting your head up until you were forced to meet his eyes. His crimson eyes burned into yours before he leaned in, claiming your mouth in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. He groaned as his tongue pushed past your lips, eager, desperate to taste the remnants of Dabi’s cum still coating your tongue.

The moment his mouth met yours, your quirk activated instinctively. A faint aura bloomed around you, light and humming with energy, sending a ripple of warmth through the air.

Shigaraki growled deep in his throat, his entire body tensing as the surge hit him, spreading like wildfire through his cells. The sound was guttural, animalistic, as if he’d been jolted alive. “Fuck—” he hissed, his lips leaving yours briefly as he shivered from the rush.

“Tsk,” Dabi chuckled, the sound low and smug as he took advantage of Shigaraki’s distraction. Dabi’s scarred hand wrapped around Tomura’s cock. His hand pumped slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb brushing against the sensitive head just to coax a sharp gasp from his boyfriend’s lips. “Relax, hothead. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Your lips were abandoned as Shigaraki’s focus faltered completely, his attention turning to Dabi with a heated glare. “Ugly bastard,” Tomura rasped, though the way his hips bucked into Dabi’s hand betrayed just how easily he was unraveling.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dabi murmured smugly, his voice a soft purr. With a rough tug and a smirk, he pulled Shigaraki into a kiss that left you breathless just from watching. Their lips met in a clash of teeth and tongues, Dabi’s dominance clear as he guided Shigaraki back onto the bed with ease. Tomura didn’t resist; he let Dabi push him down, his white hair splayed like a halo on the sheets.

Dabi settled between Tomura’s thighs, his sharp grin softening into something dangerously wicked as he ducked his head. Without preamble, his mouth wrapped around Shigaraki’s cock, and Tomura let out a broken groan, his back arching off the bed.

“Fucking hell, Touya…” Tomura rasped, one hand flying to Dabi’s white hair, gripping tight.

You were left kneeling at the edge, forgotten, stripped of their attention. A needy whine escaped you before you could stop it, the ache between your legs too much to ignore. Frustration flared hot in your chest, but you couldn’t look away from the sight in front of you — Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains, wrecked and trembling under Todoroki’s mouth, and Dabi himself, so smug and methodical as he sucked his boyfriend off.

“Assholes,” you muttered under your breath, though your voice lacked any real venom. Giving in, your hand drifted down between your thighs, your fingers brushing over your slick folds. A sharp inhale left you as you began to rub lazy, teasing circles against your clit, your gaze fixed on them as if the sight alone might bring you release.

There was something maddeningly hot about the way Dabi could so easily dominate Shigaraki — about how quickly the sharp edges of the most powerful man softened under Touya’s touch.

How the hell had it come to this? You barely remembered. The whiskey at the club burned as it came back to you, their teasing words, the way Dabi and Shiggy had leaned close to murmur threats into your ear if you didn’t follow them. A shiver ran through you at the memory, though whether it was fear or excitement, you couldn’t tell.

What you did know was that this — this night, this wild chaos — was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was raw and humiliating, your body used and claimed by two men who couldn’t care less about your dignity. And yet, you were dripping for them, your fingers already working faster as you squirmed on the bed, watching the two men you couldn’t get enough of.

Your body quivered, breath ragged as you bit your lip, already desperate for more. One thing was certain: you didn’t care how you ended up here. All you could think about was how much you wanted them inside you — both of them — until you forgot your own name.

And judging by the way Dabi’s eyes flicked toward you, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face as he pulled off Shigaraki’s cock with a sinful pop, they weren’t done with you yet. “Look at her,” Dabi drawled, voice thick with amusement as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Couldn’t handle being left alone for five minutes. Such a needy little shit.”

Shigaraki’s head lolled to the side, his crimson eyes barely focused but sharp enough to catch the way your fingers moved between your thighs. “So fucking needy.”

Dabi grinned and pushed Shiggy’s cock past his lips again. Dabi worked Shigaraki’s cock with an eager, unrelenting rhythm, his mouth gliding along the length in sloppy, wet strokes that filled the room with the most obscene, filthy sounds you’d ever heard. His lips stretched wide, dragging over every vein, his tongue teasing mercilessly as he sucked in earnest, loud and unapologetic, his turquoise eyes never left Shigaraki’s face.

With a sharp pop, Dabi pulled off, a strand of saliva connecting his lips to Shigaraki’s throbbing shaft. He tilted his head, eyes glinting, before he tilted his mouth horizontally, wrapping his lips along the sensitive side of Shigaraki’s cock. His movements turned fast — up and down, slicking him completely with spit that glistened in the dim light of the room.

“Fuck—” Shigaraki hissed, his voice cracking with the effort to keep his composure, but Dabi wasn’t done. He slid further down, taking one of Shigaraki’s balls into his mouth, sucking and rolling it against his tongue, his hands working the rest of his boyfriend’s shaft in time with his mouth.

The control didn’t last long. Shigaraki’s breaths turned ragged, his hips twitching with the need to chase release, and within seconds, he snapped — his cock jerking in Dabi’s hand as he came, hard and sudden.

Thick ropes of cum spurted forward, hitting Dabi’s face in messy streaks.

Shigaraki groaned through gritted teeth, his body trembling as the last of his release spattered across Dabi’s scarred chin and nose.

Touya sat back slowly, his expression smug as he swiped his tongue across his lip, unbothered by the mess dripping down his face. “Didn’t think you’d lose it that fast, Shig,” he mused, his tone laced with a teasing drawl. “Guess I’m just that good, huh?”

Shigaraki’s red eyes burned into him, his breath still heavy as he scowled faintly. “Shut up, Todoroki.”

Dabi just grinned, licking his fingers clean as he savored every last drop of Tomura’s cum. “Whatever you say, boss.”

It was when their attention returned to you.

“You should fuck her,” Touya pointed out, glaring at Shigaraki, his tone lazy yet deliberate, as if offering the most obvious suggestion in the world. “Look at her — she’s trembling. Can’t fucking wait to have her needy little cunt stuffed full of your dick.”

Shigaraki shivered at the words, his red eyes darkening as he raked his gaze over you. A shudder ran through his body, his voice a breathless rasp as he muttered, “I’m overstimulated. You go first. It’ll be even better when I take her after you’ve filled her needy cunt with your hot cum.”

The way they spoke about you, as if you weren’t even there — like you were some object to pass between them — made your stomach twist and a shiver race down your spine. You clenched your thighs instinctively, but the heat pooling low in your belly was unstoppable.

Dabi, lying back next to Shigaraki on the bed, gestured lazily with two fingers. “C’mere, whore. Straddle me.”

“I’m not a whore,” you reminded him once again with a frown crossing your forehead. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Todoroki growled back.

The command was all you needed, your body moving instinctively to obey. You climbed over him, settling your knees on either side of his hips, your trembling hands already reaching for his cock. He was rock hard again, pulsing and ready for you, and you dragged him along your slit, teasing both yourself and him as the head of his cock glided through your slick folds.

Dabi’s patience, however, was notoriously thin. His large hands suddenly gripped your waist, and before you could react, he pushed you down onto him with one firm thrust.

You cried out as he impaled you, the stretch of his cock filling you completely and stealing the air from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet and tight,” Touya growled, his voice low and guttural as his fingers dug into your flesh. His hips shifted slightly, grinding into you to pull another broken moan from your lips. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”

Above him, you clung to his chest, nails scraping lightly over the healthy patches of skin as your body adjusted to the sudden fullness.

Dabi didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath though; his hips rolled beneath you with slow, intentional force, and the pressure made your head spin.

“Don’t stop,” Shigaraki muttered, his voice strained as he watched you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Keep going. I want to see her fall apart on you before I take my turn.” The man of course was jerking himself.

Dabi’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes gleaming with that signature cruelty as he tilted his head to look up at you. “Hear that, doll? You’d better give us a good show.”

His hips snapped up suddenly, and you cried out again, the room filling with the sound of skin meeting skin and the broken moans spilling uncontrollably from your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back toward the ceiling as Touya’s hands worked over you, rough and greedy. His scarred fingers pinched and kneaded your breasts, each tug on your sensitive nipples sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His heated gaze stayed fixed on you — on the slow, mesmerizing roll of your hips as you started grinding your pelvis against him, dragging your slick pussy over the massive length of his cock.

“Fuck, just like that,” Touya praised, his voice gravelly and strained, though he made no move to stop you. His cock pressed against your entrance, teasing you, every shift of your hips making him twitch and pulse in response.

A pure bliss overtook your features.

When you placed your hands flat on his scarred chest, steadying yourself, he let you take control, his pale cerulean eyes narrowing with dark satisfaction.

You began to move faster — hips gliding forward and back, dragging his thick cock up through your folds, almost slipping it out before grinding back down to bury him deep inside you. The friction burned deliciously, and the sound of his low groans only spurred you on.

Opening your eyes, you locked gazes with him as you picked up the pace, your movements sharp and purposeful. Without breaking a sweat, you rode him hard — bouncing on his cock with quick, fluid movements that had him pressing deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you over and over again. The mattress beneath you creaked in protest.

Touya’s lips curled into a wicked grin, clearly pleased with your display, but he was never one to let you feel too triumphant. With a sudden shift, he reached up and wrapped one large, scarred hand around your throat. His grip was firm — tight enough to steal a fraction of your air, to make you lightheaded and needy as his rough thumb pressed against your pulse point. “Yeah, that’s it,” he rasped, voice low and dark, his eyes drinking in every reaction you gave him.

Your whine came out broken and pitiful, a sound that only spurred you to ride him faster, harder, your body slamming down onto his cock with a desperation that left you trembling. You knew you had to work hard to be able to breathe again.

Before you could think, another touch joined the chaos. From the side, Shigaraki’s pale fingers pressed roughly against your clit. He rubbed in firm, purposeful circles, coaxing you closer to the edge before landing a few sharp slaps to your sensitive, swollen bud.

“Messy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki muttered, his voice gruff and mocking. He trailed his fingers lower, gathering the juices that had spilled out of you, smirking as he scooped up some of it. With a satisfied hum, he sat back slightly, spreading the slick over his cock with slow, intended movements. His hand glided easily along the long length of his shaft now, each stroke lazy as he watched you. “Make him cum in your cunt finally.”

Dabi’s grip on your throat finally loosened, though the sight of you gasping for air, eyes glazed and lips parted, was enough to make his cock twitch. As much as he loved watching you struggle, he didn’t want to break his favorite toy.

“Fuck, you’re a mess,” he uttered, a dark smirk curling his lips as one scarred hand slid up to cradle your cheek. His other arm snaked around your lower back, locking you against him with ease. Before you could catch your breath, he drove his hips up sharply, forcing you to cry out as his thick cock filled your aching pussy to the brim. “Feel that?” Dabi taunted, his voice low and teasing as he set a ruthless rhythm.

Your body rocked with each brutal thrust, the sound of his balls slapping against you echoing obscenely through the room. “Tight, little thing can barely take me.”

Your mouth fell open reflexively, head lolling back as the relentless pace had you seeing stars.

Dabi’s grip on you tightened as his thrusts grew sharper, harder, forcing you to take every inch of him. Sweat began to bead along both your bodies, the heat of it all adding to the haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

Then he shifted, pulling you down until your chest met his, your chin resting over his scarred shoulder. Both of his arms caged you in, holding you flush to him as his hips began pounding up at an impossible speed.

Your breath came out in ragged pants directly into his ear, your whines growing louder, more desperate. “Ahh— Touya… I’m gonna—” you whimpered, voice trembling as your entire body started to quake. “I’m gonna—”

“Cum,” he growled into your ear, his teeth nibbling on your earlobe as his hips snapped upward mercilessly.

With a sharp gasp, you came undone, a broken moan ripping from your throat as your pussy clenched down around him, milking his cock with every pulse of your release. You lolled your head back to lower it and rest your forehead against the crook of his neck. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh my god, yes!” You cried, the words dissolving into a long, drawn-out moan as waves of pleasure crashed over your being.

Dabi hissed through his teeth, sweat dripping down his temple as he fucked you through your orgasm, refusing to let go. The slick, obscene sounds of skin meeting skin grew louder, wetter, as he chased his high.

And then it happened — your body, overstimulated and writhing, couldn’t hold back anymore. You screamed his name as you squirted, a torrent of juices splashing over Dabi’s abs and thighs.

“Fuck! Look at you,” Dabi chuckled darkly, his voice strained as he watched you, his teeth clenched hard. He delivered a sharp slap to your cheek, the sting sending a jolt through your already-sensitive body. “Dirty little whore. Look what you’ve done.”

With a final, deep thrust, his cock twitched violently inside you, and he let out a guttural groan as he came. Hot ropes of cum spilled into your soaked pussy, the sensation making you shudder, trembling from head to toe as you wrapped your arm around his neck, hugging him as tightly as you could.

For a moment, you waited for him to push you off — but he didn’t.

Instead, Dabi’s arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you closer as he pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple. “You did oh so well, doll.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Shigaraki’s gravelly voice broke the moment. “My turn.”

Reluctantly, you pushed yourself up, Dabi’s hands steadying you as you moved. His release, mixed with yours, dripped shamelessly down your inner thighs and onto the sheets, staining them in messy evidence of your debauchery.

“On all fours,” Shigaraki ordered coldly.

Your body obeyed instinctively, trembling slightly as you got into position. Shigaraki knelt behind you, his pale hands spreading the cheeks of your ass as his crimson eyes drank in the view of your pussy entrance clenching around nothing, missing the contact. With a low curse, he spat directly onto the valley between your cheeks, watching the saliva trail down over your puckered hole and toward your slick, used entrance.

“Stay still,” Tomura warned, the tip of his cock sliding through the mess he’d created. He dragged it deliberately, spreading the wetness across both openings before aligning himself. Without another word, he pushed in, forcing his length into your soaked cunt in one slow, steady stroke. “Fuck! So warm,” he applauded, his voice heavy with hunger as he sank his cock to the hilt. “And still so fucking tight. C’mere,” Shigaraki called, turning his head to Dabi, who was still sprawled beside you, watching the scene with an air of smug satisfaction.

Touya didn’t hesitate, moving closer as Shigaraki grabbed his jaw roughly and tilted his head, pulling the scarred man into a messy, sloppy kiss.

Dabi growled against Tomura’s mouth but let him take control.

Their tongues clashed, heated and unrestrained, while Shigaraki’s hips slammed into you from behind. The combined sound of their heavy breathing, and the wet slap of Shigaraki’s thrusts filled the room entirely.

Your body rocked forward under Shigaraki’s relentless pace. You sneaked a hand between your trembling thighs to rub your clitoris and move your fingers further to spread your entrance more. The feeling was deliciously good, and you moaned like a whore when your pussy clenched fitfully.

“Shit,” Shigaraki rasped, breaking the kiss long enough to groan, “you’re gonna squeeze me dry if you keep that up.” Tomura’s gloved hand tangled into your hair, tugging harshly and smashing your head down onto the mattress. The movement was rough, his grip unyielding as he bent you forward to angle himself deeper inside you.

A strangled gasp left your lips, your body arching instinctively as he adjusted his stance, burying his cock to the hilt with a single thrust.

Smack.

The sound echoed through the room as his palm connected with the curve of your ass, the sharp sting blooming into warmth almost instantly. “Stay still,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and low. Red prints of his hands marked your skin, glowing against your plushy flesh.

You cried out, fists clenching tightly into the sheets as Tomura gripped your waist, holding you in place. His thrusts grew brutal and relentless, hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that bordered on feral. Each movement dragged him against every ridge of your walls, your pussy clenching and unclenching around his cock, the friction overwhelming.

Tomura’s gaze dropped to where your ass pressed back against him, mesmerized by the way your body swallowed him whole. The tremors that coursed through you only spurred him on, his cock throbbing as he leaned forward. His mouth found your neck, trailing hot, sloppy kisses between your shoulder blades and up behind your ear.

His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, and within moments, you felt the twitch of his cock inside you. Tomura groaned, pulling out abruptly, the tip of his length gleaming and oozing precum. “Suck,” Shigaraki ordered, voice sharp but breathless as he looked at Dabi.

Touya — who’d been lounging with that ever-present, pervert smirk — sat up at the command, eyes flicking to you before sliding to Tomura’s dick. Without protest, Dabi knelt and leaned forward, wrapping his lips around Tomura’s leaking cock with deliberate ease.

Tomura’s head fell back briefly, a hiss escaping his lips.

While Dabi worked his boyfriend, his hand snaked between your legs, two long fingers sinking into your soaked cunt. His digits thrust into you with a lazy, calculated pace at first, the slick sound of your arousal driving him wild. The movement of his hand sent splashes of your wetness dripping onto the sheets below, a testament to just how far gone you were.

It didn’t take long for Tomura to lose patience. His hand shot to Dabi’s hair, yanking him off his cock with a wet pop. “Enough,” the leader growled, before guiding himself back into you with a single, unforgiving thrust. The force knocked the breath from your lungs as he picked up a wild, punishing pace.

Your body trembled beneath him, overstimulated and unable to do anything but take what he gave you.

Tomura’s nails dug into your hips, his low moans mingling with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. His pace faltered as his cock twitched, his release barreling toward him. “Fuck—” Shigaraki snarled, thrusting into you one last time, as deep as he could go. His body shuddered violently as he came, spilling himself inside you in thick, hot pulses. He stayed there for a moment, grinding his hips to push every drop deeper in your pussy before finally collapsing against you, his breaths heavy and ragged.

You slumped onto the mattress, your limbs weak and spent, but Tomura wasn’t done admiring his work. He withdrew slowly, watching intently as his cum — white, and thick — began to trickle from your overstimulated, reddened cunt. The sight alone made him groan softly, his fingers spreading you apart to see the mess he’d left behind. He licked his lips; the thought of his cum being so easily mixed with your and Dabi’s releases drove him crazy. “Looks good on you,” Shigaraki chuckled, dark and satisfied.

You didn’t have the strength to answer, so you moaned quietly.

“Do you think about the same thing I do?” Dabi asked Tomura, his voice low and deliberate as his scarred hand kneaded the soft flesh of your ass, fingers sinking into it with casual possessiveness.

Shigaraki, kneeling behind you, dragged his palm lazily up and down the length of his cock, thumb teasing over the tip. He licked his chapped lips, hesitant. “Yeah, but… I’m not sure if she’s loosened up enough.” His voice wavered faintly, rough and uncertain. “I don’t wanna hurt her.”

“Tsk.” Dabi clicked his tongue in irritation, his free hand coming down hard on your ass with a sharp slap that made you yelp and jolt forward. The sting and print of his unnaturally warm hand bloomed across your skin. “She’s unbreakable. Ain’t that right, Amoria?” he added, using the name of your quirk as a pet name.

Your body perked up at the sound of his voice, though you turned your head to glance over your shoulder at him with a tired but questioning look. “Mhm?”

Dabi’s grin widened, a wicked gleam in his pale turquoise eyes. “We wanna try something new. Something your beloved ex probably wouldn’t have let you do. You up for it?”

Even through the haze of exhaustion, you found yourself nodding eagerly, curiosity outweighing fatigue as you slowly sat up. “Sure. What is it?”

Dabi scoffed, shooting Shigaraki a smug look. “Told ya,” he noted before his gaze fell back to you, his voice softening slightly. “Have you ever had your cunt stuffed with two cocks at the same time?”

Your eyes widened, the question hitting you like a bolt of electricity. You shook your head slowly.

“Wanna try it?” He phrased it like a challenge.

You rubbed your palms against your knees after sitting on them, glancing between the two men before smiling faintly. “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, I guess…”

“That’s the attitude,” Dabi murmured, his grin stretching wider.

Without another word, Dabi lay back against the bed, dragging you with him until you were straddling his hips again. His cock — thick, hard, and begging to be stuffed in your warm cunt yet again — throbbed against your swollen slit, which still ached from earlier. He grabbed your waist, guiding you down onto him with little patience, groaning as he sank back into your warmth. “Fuck…” Dabi hissed, his head pressing into the pillow as he felt how easily you took him again. His cock slid inside your stretched-out entrance, and he smirked darkly as he felt Shigaraki’s cum leaking out of your slit, flowing over his erection, slick and hot. “See that, Shigs? The slut's so fucking loose. You’re good to go.”

Shigaraki didn’t need to be told twice. He nodded curtly, shuffling closer to get into position behind you. His hands gripped your hips firmly as he adjusted himself. One of his palms slid along the curve of your ass, and he delivered a quick, stinging slap that left you whining softly.

“Relax,” Shigaraki muttered, though his own breathing had grown uneven. With a rough groan, he began pressing himself against your already stuffed cunt, his long, slender cock sliding slowly alongside Dabi’s.

The stretch was immediate, sharp and overwhelming as your walls struggled to accommodate the added girth.

“Fuck, she’s tight now,” Shigaraki growled under his breath, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back.

“Yeah?” Dabi sneered, though his voice was breathy with his own pleasure. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his angle so you were forced to take more of him. “Told ya she could handle it. She’s tougher than she looks.”

Neither of them seemed to mind the friction where their cocks pressed together, filling you completely. In fact, it only made them more eager.

The combined stretch sent you reeling, tears pricking your eyes as they started moving — slow at first, then building in rhythm, a perfectly matched pace that had you gasping for air.

“Shit… look at ya,” Dabi stated, his voice low and hungry as he dragged you down against his scarred chest. His long fingers tilted your chin up until your face hovered just above his. His tongue darted out, running lazily up your cheek to taste the salt of your sweat and tears. “You look fucking ruined, doll. You like this, huh?”

Your only response was a broken moan and eager nod of your head, your body trembling as you tried to hold yourself up while they worked you over.

Behind you, Shigaraki’s nails dug into your hips, his restraint slipping with every thrust. “She’s so— Fuck!— Full,” Shigaraki rasped, his voice cracking slightly as he buried himself deeper.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dabi grunted beneath you, his smirk never fading. “You better keep up, Shigs. Can’t let me outdo you, now, can we?”

The two of them moved in perfect rhythm, their thrusts syncing to a punishing pace that left you helpless and whining in their hold.

Dabi’s chest rumbled with laughter as he watched your face twist with pleasure, more tears spilling down your flushed cheeks, every broken sound you made only fueling him further. “Good girl,” Dabi murmured finally, his voice dark and satisfied. “Such a good, little pet.”

At that point, you were completely incapable of forming coherent words. Your mouth fell open, spilling nothing but broken moans, tiny strings of saliva, and strangled cries as they both relentlessly tore into you, their thrusts striking every sensitive, sweet spot deep within your pulsing, velvety walls. The pleasure was unbearable — overwhelming to the point that you felt yourself drifting off, your mind teetering on the edge of oblivion.

A sharp slap brought you back.

Dabi’s scarred hand cracked against your cheek, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to jolt you awake, his azure eyes narrowed. “Eyes open, doll. You’re not tapping out yet,” he growled.

Behind you, Tomura delivered another sharp smack — this time to your ass. “Don’t you dare pass out,” the leader hissed, his voice raspy as his nails dug into the soft flesh of your hips.

The two men fucked you mercilessly, their cocks stretching you to your absolute limit as they plunged into your dripping cunt, their movements fierce and unrelenting. Your entire body trembled from overstimulation, every nerve ending alive and alight, your pussy clenching uncontrollably around them. It was maddening, beyond anything you’d ever felt — pure, unadulterated bliss mixed with the sharp edge of being completely, utterly used.

“Look at her,” Dabi murmured through gritted teeth, his smirk curling at the edges as his thrusts grew sloppier. “She’s fucking gone, Tomu. You feel that? She’s throbbing around us like she’s about to break again.”

Tomura let out a growl of agreement, his pace turning frantic as he rutted his dick into you, the slick sound of their cocks rubbing against each other within your tight, soaked walls driving him wild. “She’s perfect,” he rasped, his crimson eyes wild with lust.

You couldn’t hold back — couldn’t stop yourself as the climax built and crested like a tidal wave, ripping through your body with unforgiving force. You screamed — a raw, desperate sound — as your abused pussy spasmed violently around them, the overwhelming pleasure forcing tears to slip down your flushed cheeks.

But they didn’t stop.

Over the next several minutes, they continued to fuck into you without mercy, their movements relentless even as your body twitched and jerked in oversensitive ecstasy. Their cocks slid into your overstimulated, reddened cunt, rubbing against each other with every brutal thrust, the friction pulling deep groans and grunts from their throats.

Dabi was the first to snap.

You felt it — a sudden stretch as he buried himself to the hilt, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix in a way that had you sobbing. He cursed under his breath, his body tensing as his shaft twitched violently, pumping hot, thick spurts of cum deep inside you. The warmth bloomed within your core, unnatural and heavy, his groaned “Fuck, that’s it…” echoing in your ears.

Tomura followed moments later. He threw his head back with a ragged yell, his fingers bruising your hips as he came hard again, emptying his balls inside you in thick, pulsing waves. “Take it, take it! Take it, you filthy little cunt,” he choked out, a string of curses tumbling from his chapped lips as he pushed in as far as he could go. His release shot deep, mixing with Dabi’s until it overflowed from your ruined cunt, spilling in hot rivulets down your trembling thighs.

The sensation of being stuffed so full — of their seed mixing and dripping from your stretched, abused pussy — pushed you over the edge once again. Another orgasm tore through you, sudden and brutal, making you squirt violently around their still-hard cocks. A choked cry escaped you before your mind finally went blank.

The world dimmed at the edges, your body completely, utterly spent. As your consciousness slipped away, the last thing you registered was Dabi’s voice — low, dark, and smug — murmuring, “Looks like we broke her, Tomura.”

A soft chuckle followed before everything went black.

Tomura pulled out of you slowly, his cock slick and throbbing as he stroked himself a few more times, riding out the last shudders of his release. With a low, satisfied groan, he collapsed beside Dabi, his chest heaving as his body finally gave in to exhaustion.

Dabi shot him a sidelong glance, already sprawled comfortably on the bed like he owned it. “Move over, Shigs,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, though there was no real bite to his words. “Make some room for her.”

Tomura grumbled something under his breath but obeyed, shifting further to the side. With that, Touya carefully pushed you off his cock, his movements surprisingly gentle despite his usual rough demeanor. He shifted you between them, taking care to ease your limp body into the space they’d made. His scarred hand slipped beneath your head, lifting it just enough to place you onto one of the pillows. Dabi hovered for a moment, watching your flushed face as you drifted off, spent and serene. Your lips were parted, and you were breathing heavily, yet you looked as peaceful as if you’d merely fallen asleep after a long day.

Tomura watched the scene in silence, his red eyes narrowing with faint curiosity. It wasn’t often he saw Todoroki like this — so still, so intent. There was something rare in the way Touya looked at you, something bordering on concern. It tugged at something unfamiliar in Tomura’s chest, though he quickly brushed the feeling off. Breaking the quiet, he reached out, his gloved fingers brushing along Dabi’s scarred cheek. “You were fucking awesome,” Tomura rasped, a crooked smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Touya’s lip curled upward into a smug, familiar grin, the cockiness returning to his expression like a reflex. “Yeah? I know. So were you, Shigs,” he replied, his voice smooth with praise and self-satisfaction. “You’ve got an eye, I’ll give you that. Thought this one would be another shy little thing to fuck but turns out, we found ourselves a damn sex machine.”

Tomura chuckled darkly, resting back against the bed. “We did. And her quirk…” He trailed off, tilting his head as if replaying the events in his mind. “It’s fucking awesome. I’ve never felt so powerful in my entire life — like I could destroy anything just with a glance.”

Dabi hummed in agreement, propping himself up on his left elbow and letting his cheek rest in his palm. “Same here,” he admitted, voice softer now, though the sly smirk remained. His gaze flickered back to your sleeping form. “Pity, though, the cunt works for that old fucking bastard.”

“Not necessarily,” Tomura countered, his tone sharper, more thoughtful. His red eyes gleamed with intent as his mind turned over possibilities. “That might be one of her most valuable assets for us. We can use her — turn her into our spy. With her in our pocket, we’ll always be a step ahead of the fucking heroes. It will help us win the war.”

The suggestion hung heavy in the air. Dabi fell quiet, his grin fading as he considered Tomura’s words. His eyes lingered on you for a long moment, the weight of the choice settling over him.

Tomura tilted his head, watching his boyfriend with mild amusement. “You know I’m right,” he declared, the certainty in his voice absolute.

After a beat of silence, Touya sighed through his nose, a reluctant smirk curling back onto his lips. “Yeah, you might be onto something,” he muttered, the faintest hint of admiration coloring his tone.

“I like how you’re using the name of her quirk as a nickname,” Tomura remarked, his voice low and amused as he reached out, brushing a tangled strand of hair off your cheek with surprising gentleness.

Touya let out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah,” he drawled, his lips tugging into a smug grin. “Suits her, doesn’t it?”

Between them, you slept soundly, unaware of the plotting, of their voices weaving around you like a web — one you might never escape.

@unhinged-bratty-boy @hornydynamight @alexandhisstuff @shonen-brainrot @roast-toast

@pixelcafe-network @dabislittlemouse @within-eyesight @sahhuban @jowjayjax

@pridefulbakugou @irkedpomeranian @crystalwolfblog @gojoswifesworld @commonmisery

@proherodabisballsack @bitchyfestivalbouquet @starandcloud @shionancientsblog @words-of-wonder

@fallenrosesblog @t4ters

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jamminvroomvroom · 5 months ago

Text

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 2

LN x fem!leclerc reader

PART 2 OF 2 -> read part 1 linked HERE!

here we go again guys, you know the drill! follows directly on from part 1 because of the silly word count :(

warnings: warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!)

part 2: 6.1k words

8. i have you.

“you never told me why.” lando blurts.

the sun is setting outside, the pair of you sprawled out over your hotel bed. he’d been in your room for a few hours, tangled with you between the linen sheets. it’s thursday in brazil, and he’d made a beeline for your hotel room after media day wrapped up. he couldn’t explain the anxiety he felt, pooling thickly in the pit of his belly, but it subsided as soon as he saw your pretty face, peeking through the crack in your door.

he’d stayed after, a habit that had been developing of late, when you were both at home in monaco, but it was unusual on a race weekend. you’d pulled out your laptop to do some work, and chucked the remote at him, telling him to put something on netflix. he’d just smiled and obliged, more than willing to stay with you.

“told you ‘why’ what?” you look up from your laptop, confused.

“why you haven’t really been with anyone else.” his voice is small, scared he’s overstepping but he figures he’s seen you naked one too many times to get shy.

“oh.”

you stare off into the dim light of the room for a second, collecting your thoughts, reliving it all.

“you don’t need to tell me, sorry if that was weird-“

“no, uh, it’s fine. it’s a bit tragic really, embarrassing.” you start. “there was a guy, a couple of years ago. he was on my course at uni. he was perfect, flowers on my doorstep once a week, romantic dinners overlooking the harbour.” you reminisce, smiling sadly. “we went on a few dates and he was selling it all perfectly, it was like he was telling me everything i wanted to hear. i trusted him, so i slept with him. it was my first time.” your breath hitches. “next thing i know, he’s telling everyone that will listen that he’s best friends with charles leclerc and that he’s fucked an f1 drivers sister. and, you know, monaco is small. charles and arthur beat the shit out of him.” you laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, which are now glossed over with fresh, stinging tears.

lando slides closer to you, tentatively wrapping an arm over your shoulder.

“it’s always been hard, you know? people trying to get close to me so that they could get close to charles. all my life, it’s been the same shit. i just wanted someone to want me for me, just once.”

you’re crying now, and lando wants to die for causing it.

“hey, ‘m so sorry, honey. i shouldn’t have asked.” he shushes you, pulling you close. he kisses the top of your head gently, and you snuggle further into him.

“no, it’s okay. wanted you to know. that’s why i like this. us.” it comes out just above a whisper.

“that’s why i like us too.” he murmurs. you look up at him, scanning his face.

“what’s your story? charles said something to me once about a bad breakup.” you ask softly. lando sighs.

“she wanted the lifestyle more than she wanted me.” he shrugs.

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. i’m better off.” i have you, he wants to add.

“i like the fact that we can’t hurt eachother that way.” you breathe, voicing the sentiment that you’ve both shared since the very first time you were together.

“i like it too, honey. more than you know.”

9. ache.

a weight lifts off of him in vegas.

brazil had been a shit show, one that he wanted to forget. one that left him awake for two days avoiding your calls, until you snapped him out of it by showing up at his place anyway, and giving him the best head of his fucking life. he’d slept like a damn baby after that.

he had a week off, after, which he spent in your bed more than his own, and then he was promptly off to nevada, awaiting your arrival a few days later and fixated on clawing something back after brazil, even if it was just pride.

well, that fixation didn’t amount to much, but at least you were there, somewhere, watching and waiting. charles is a wreck, though, storming away from parc ferme, which means you’ll be with him, instead of with lando. he feels selfish at the way it stings.

he’s exhausted when he leaves the track, dead on his feet in the elevator up to his room. he can’t bring himself to join max or george and celebrate. he’ll make it up to both of them another time. his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, recognising your contact. he doesn’t even fight the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

packed something special for you. you gonna come find out what?

he’s in love with you. has been for a while.

the attention you pay to him for himl, the way you tease him and laugh with him and let him lose himself in unravelling you. your quick wit, mesmerising eyes, the way you switch languages when he scrambles your brain and you can’t think hard enough to keep speaking english. he’s a goner, and he knows it.

he doesn’t bother replying, just makes a beeline for your room. he’s spent enough time in it already this weekend to make it there without much thought. you’d even left him a keycard, which he retrieves with nimble fingers from his wallet, letting himself into your suite.

he calls your name, rounding the corner and he could die right there, just at the sight of you.

you’re lamplit, knelt on the middle of your bed, wrapped in nothing but intricate, baby pink lace.

“my god.” he pants, jaw dropped. you’re ethereal, gorgeous, a delicate gift wrapped up just for him to open.

“do you like it?” your eyes are wide, daunted.

“what the fuck did i do to deserve you?” he stalks to the end of the bed, shrugging off his jacket, his hoodie, until he’s left in a white vest and team joggers. he kneels down at the foot of the bed, ready to crawl over you. “i love it.”

you flush, grinning sweetly as he crawls over you, pushing you back into the mattress.

“you did this all for me?” lando asks, stroking over a lacy bra strap.

“thought you deserved it.” you purr, but your facade slips for just a minute. “is this okay? never done this before.” you glance up at him with round, doe eyes that make him swallow hard, melting further into you.

“‘s perfect.” he promises. “you’re so perfect.”

lando kisses you softly, his warm skin pressing into yours. you moan quietly into his mouth, holding him close. he thumbs over the lace adorning your bust, stroking it. you squirm every time he brushes your skin.

“wanna be on top. wanna try it.” you pant into his mouth, watching closely as he groans, eyes fluttering as he imagines the sight.

“only if you keep this on.” he bargains, flipping the pair of you over.

you sit up on his lap, smoothing your hands over his chest as his find your hips. he steadies you, playing with the band of your panties, tracing over the pattern.

“can’t believe you did this all for me.” lando coos, taking the opportunity to take it all in, you, flustered and breathtaking, straddling him. dressed up all for him, all his.

“you deserve it.”

“do you think you’re ready for me? lemme see.” his hand skates between your thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers against the crotch of your underwear. he applies pressure against the wet patch that he feels, licking his lips. “were you thinking about me when you were getting all dressed up? thinking about how i’d touch you?”

“yeah,” you nod frantically, grinding down on his fingers. “wanted you all day but i wanted to be good for you.” you pout. you’re gonna kill him, he thinks.

“always good for me.” he applies more pressure, toying with your clit through the lace, the sensation making you quiver, bucking your hips.

“just want you inside of me, lando. i’m ready.” you plead, palming over his sweats. your hand travels further, finding his between your legs. you tug your underwear to the side, and he feels just how wet you are for him.

“you sure, baby?”

there he goes again. baby. your tummy twists.

“yeah, lan, i want it to hurt a little.” you sound so sweet for him and it shreds the rest of his self restraint.

lando sits up just enough to rip off his vest, taps your thigh so that you lift up for a second, long enough for him to shrug off his sweats. when he’s bare, he paws at your hips, helping you to adjust. your fingers wrap around his length and he jolts, mouth falling open as you swipe the head of him through your slit. you sink down, taking just the tip, but it feels like the first time all over again, the angle creating delicious pressure that burns through your pelvis. your eyes squeeze shut and he swirls his fingers over your sides.

“take it easy for me, love.” lando urges, looking up at you with concern.

“i like it. promise.” you choke out, eyes rolling back at the pleasure, the burn.

you continue to slide down on him, sinking further and further until you’re flush against his pelvis. you roll your hips experimentally, your clit brushing against the thatch of hair at his base and you squirm, sensitive.

“want me to help?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“wanna do this for you.” you pant, rocking your hips against his.

the angle is brutal, so intoxicatingly good, and you can already feel yourself leaking all over him. you build up a rhythm, slow and steady, watching the ripple of his abs everytime you sink back down on him, the way his curls fan over his forehead, the veins in his arms bulging as he grips at your waist tighter and tighter.

“you look so pretty, baby, taking me like this.” lando sighs, helping you pick up the pace. you cry out, leaning backwards, fingers gripping his firm thighs.

“it’s so good, you feel so good.” you whine, arching your back.

he’s entranced by the way your breasts bounce, fighting against the skimpy bra and he sinks his teeth into his plush bottom lip, eyeing you hungrily. one hand leaves your waist and travels to the cups of your bra, tugging so harshly that you hear the threads break. he frees your tits, watching in delight as they fall out of the lace confines.

“you’re so sexy, honey, look so beautiful. you’re all mine, aren’t you? this is all for me, right?” lando’s eyes roll back in his head when he feels the way you clamp down around him at his words. he’s gonna fill you up, he thinks, mark you as his from the inside out.

“yeah, lan, all yours.” you slur, fighting the urge to cum. “‘m all yours.”

he can see that you’re tiring, the ache setting in, so he pulls you forward, until you’re chest to chest, wrapped up his his thick arms.

“i’ve got you, baby.” he swears, holding you close as he rolls his hips, fucking up into you.

it’s all too much like this, the constant pressure on your clit, the head of his cock tapping against your cervix, the thrumming of his heart, the cold sweat of his chest peaking your nipples. you let out a strangled cry of his name, and you see white, your nerve endings overstimulated and fried. all you can hear is his voice, pulling your through it and out the other side.

“did so good for me, baby, such a good girl. took it all so well, love.”

you’re limp on top of him, a dead weight curled around him like a life force. there’s nothing that could make him move you, and wouldn’t let you go unless you asked. you lay there in silence, your mixed release leaking out of you. your heart rate steadies, about as much as it can with him around, and you feel yourself blinking away sleep, exhausted. lando notices, of course he does.

“let’s clean up.” he suggests, sitting up carefully with you on his lap.

“carry me?” you request sleepily, a lazy smile painting your face.

“as you wish.” he jokes, bowing his head.

your legs wrap around his waist as he shuffles off of the bed, and he walks to the bathroom, setting you down on the marble sink top. he leans into the shower, adjusting the temperature and turning the water on. he lets it heat up and turns back to you. no words are exchanged as he peels your ruined panties off, as he unhooks your bra and drops its all onto the counter. he tugs you off of the side, guiding your under the stream of water, the warmth making you relax into him. he’s more than happy to prop you up.

“my legs ache.” you giggle, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“was it worth it?”

“definitely.”

“good.”

he cleans you, massaging soap into your skin, and washing it off. you stay close while he does the same for himself, passing him different products as you clean up together. it’s quiet, nothing needs to be said, and you wonder if this is what life with him would be like. domestic and easy.

“stay.” you let yourself ask, croaking the request out into the silence. you’re both drying off, and he’s gathering he’s clothes.

“i thought you’d want me to go.” he looks like a deer in headlights. cute.*

“stay.” your repeat, and this time it sounds like a plea. he slides his boxers on.

“okay.”

he’s like a furnace under the covers and you can’t help but curl into his side, legs wrapping around eachothers. there’s no going back from this, you fear. he’s thinking the same thing. you kiss his chest as you fall asleep, just a quick press of your lips to his pec, but it makes him hot all over. if the lights were still on, you’d see him blushing. he returns the favour with careful peck to your hairline. you both nuzzle impossibly closer.

“has it ever been like that for you?” you whisper into the darkness. you hear the change in his breathing.

the question is loaded; have you ever felt like this before? was that just sex to you? what are we? what is this? do you want me how i want you?

“never.” it’s barely a whisper

you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

when you wake up, he stirs, bronzed arms tightening around you.

“go back to sleep.” he grumbles, pulling your back to his chest.

“i need to catch my flight.” you reply, turning around to face him.

you’re stunned when you see him smushed into the pillow, lips pouty, eye lashes fluttering to clear away sleep. he looks so pretty in the morning light, and you wish you’d asked him to stay the night sooner.

“just fly with me.” lando mutters. you freeze.

“lan, you know i can’t do that. what would that look like?”

“who cares?” he half shrugs behind you, and you wriggle away, sit up in bed.

“uh, me? i care, lando. i can’t be seen flying around with some other driver, do you know how much that would complicate things?”

“some other driver.” he huffs. that gets his attention, and he sits up. “what so we can sneak around, and you’ll let me fuck you, but being on an airplane together is crossing the line?” he grunts sarcastically. you narrow your eyes at him.

“don’t say it like that.” you scold.

“how should i say it, then? i thought maybe this meant something more to you.” he’s standing from the bed now, hurt thick in his voice, and you panic, reaching out for him, but he’s finding his clothes.

“it does! it does mean something to me but… lando, i can’t put charles in that position. i can’t put myself in that position.” you reason weakly, standing and rapidly moving towards him. you pull him to face you, holding onto his shoulders. “don’t go, please.” you whisper, cupping his cheek.

he stares down at you, dejected, a wounded animal, and pushes your hands off of him.

“i, uh. i care about you. a lot. too much, i think. i can’t go through this again, and you can’t hurt your brother. so…” he breathes shakily.

“so?” you plead, shaking your head. “don’t do this, we can…”

“i’m not gonna be ‘some other driver’, honey. ‘m sorry.”

“lando-“

“its okay. this was good while it lasted, and i know you’re gonna find what you’re looking for, without all of the, uh,” he gestures around blindly. “the complications.”

“don’t go.” you whisper, catching his hand. tears pool in the corners of your eyes, distorting him.

“go catch your flight.” he smiles sadly, finally dressed, and then he’s gone.

you stand frozen, taking stock of whatever the fuck just happened.

i care about you.

good while it lasted.

you’re gonna find what you’re looking for.

complications.

you choke out a sob, stumble backwards onto the foot of your bed when it hits you.

you’d already found what you were looking for, and now, he was gone.

you’re supposed to go straight to qatar with charles, but you beg him to get you a flight home instead.

he can hear that you’ve been crying, and tells you that he’ll kill anyone that you need him to. you promise it’s fine, through even more tears, tell him that you’ll fill him in when he’s got a minute to breathe.

the ticket lands in your inbox and you flee. you spend the twelve hour flight watching love actually, crying into a glass of wine, and wondering if you should get gracie abrams’ lyrics tattooed on your forehead.

i love you, i’m sorry would be quite fitting right about now.

when you land, you don’t even go home, making a beeline for alex and charles’ apartment instead. when alex lets you in, confused to see your face, leo does laps around your feet. you drop your bags and fall into her arms, sob until your throat is raw and your eyes are bloodshot.

“i fucked up.” you wail, breathing hard.

“lando?” she asks, tentative. she has a knowing look, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

“what? how did you-“

“well let’s just say that we saw the DM he sent you, and arthur was actually sat opposite me when you said you were with him.” she admits. you gasp.

“does charles… does he…?”

“oh, sweetie, charles knows nothing. although he did ask me what shoe size you wear after coming to your place a few weeks back. he said something about a pair of birkenstocks that looked huge compared to your other shoes, and i told him that was just the style.” she snorts, and you slap your hand over your forehead.

“oh, jesus.” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“wanna tell me what happened?”

“i don’t even know, he asked me to fly with him and then i said it would complicate things, that i couldn’t been seen with, quote on quote, ‘some other driver.’” you sigh.

“some other driver? oh, girl.”

“yep.”

“were you guys dating…? or?”

“no! lately things had been a bit more,” you pause, gathering your thoughts. “intimate? i don’t know. i definitely have feelings for him.”

alex looks at you sympathetically, strokes your knee soothingly.

“have you told him that?”

“no, i didn’t know how and now he’s done with me.” you wince, a fresh wave of tears pricking your eyes.

“maybe not, sweetie, maybe you if you told him how you felt, he’d understand. is charles what you’re worried about?”

“charles, the fans, all of it.” you whimper.

“the fans can be, well, intense, but take it from me, if lando’s worth it, none of that matters. is he worth it?”

you pause, weighing it all up. the way he’d been with you, so gentle and caring, considerate and interested in you. he’d made you feel safe and satisfied, and everytime you caught him looking at you, you felt that first initial spark all over again. you could laugh with him, push and tease and not just be charles leclerc’s little sister. you look forward to seeing him, feeling him, speaking to him. all of this together feels heavy, but you want to bear it.

“he is.” you whisper, looking at alex nervously. “oh, god, what do i do?”

“i think there’s a paddock pass with your name on it that you should make use of.” she tells you, wrapping you in a tight hug. “and if charles has a problem, tell him he has to go through me.”

10. pizza and pasta.

max fewtrell sips his coffee in the hotel lobby, waiting for keegan to join him. it’s hot in qatar, dry and bright, ornate.

his phone buzzes.

message request from: yourusername

HI SORRY ARE YOU IN QATAR????

he probably looks like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his skull.

another message comes through.

this sounds insane and i’m sorry that this is like, the first time we’ve ever spoken, but i need a huge favour. like a really really huge favour.

max scratches the back of his head, pulling a face at his phone. baffled wouldn’t even begin to cover how he feels.

he picks up his phone, and opens the messages.

lando over exerts himself keeping away from you. the sprint race had been a breeze compared to staying away, out of your reach. it hurts like hell, but it’s a necessary evil for both your sakes.

he wants to sleep, do nothing else but collapse onto his mattress, phone silenced and curtains drawn as tightly shut as they can go. he unlocks the door to his hotel room. the light flashes green, and he relaxes, finally. until, he doesn’t.

there’s a faint sound coming from down the short corridor that separates his front door from his sleeping area. it’s not max, he’s just left him outside his own hotel room, and it’s not keegan, either, for the same reason. he wonders if he has another stalker, braces himself and picks up the first thing he can find. a shoe. useless, he thinks.

lando creeps down the corridor, poised and ready, jumps out of his skin when you round the corner before he can get there. you yelp, bracing yourself against the wall.

“what the fuck, i thought you were a murderer!” lando huffs, throwing his head back.

somehow, the sight of you is worse than any murderer could ever be.

“putain! god, i’m so sorry! so sorry!” you squeak.

“how did you get in here?”

“funny story,” you tilt your head to the side, trying to look harmless. “max let me in.”

“verstappen?” lando asks, face twisting with confusion.

“no, idiot. fewtrell.” you reply, duh-like. “i can go, i know this is crazy and weird and a total violation, but i had to talk to you.” your voice softens and lando seems to finally relax. he’ll kill max later.

“this is batshit, actually, but i respect the grind.” lando shrugs. “what do you want?” he sounds harsher than intended, closed off, but you suppose you deserve it.

“i’m sorry about what happened last weekend.” you inhale shakily. “i… i care about you a lot, too, and i have done for a while but i was too scared to say it. i realised as soon as you left that i never ever wanna hurt you like that. never want you to feel like i don’t lo- care about you… like that.” you catch yourself, not ready to say certain words. he gets the gist.

“i don’t wanna be some hookup anymore. it was fine at first, when i thought that’s all i could have from you, but i know that it’s not. i want you.” lando states, his words poignant. “whatever pace you need, whatever you want from me, i wanna give it to you.”

the space between you dissipates.

“i saw you, you know, watching me from your garage all those months ago, like you were trying place me.” your voice is barely above a whisper. “admittedly, i kinda wanted to punch you for ruining that dress, but i also, really really secretly thought you were cute.”

“well, if we’re being honest, i really wanted to fuck you the first time i saw you.” he jokes crudely, and you slap his chest. “in my defence, i was blackout drunk.”

“asshole.” you mutter. you’re so close now that his nose bumps yours.

“i think you like it.” he whispers.

“yeah, i really do.”

your lips meet his urgently, homecoming. it’s been too long since you’ve had him in your hands, touched him and felt him breathe against you. the kiss is passionate, frantic, and you know you’re in love with him. you’re certain.

an hour later, you’re tucked into bed with him, a movie that you’re not paying attention to playing idly on the tv. pizza crusts lay on a plate, the leftovers of your impromptu dinner date.

you’ve covered your degree, how he got into racing, what you do for work, who you’re friends are, family dynamics.

you learn that his favourite colour actually is yellow, and he learns that you’re favourite drink is red wine. he prefers pizza, you prefer pasta. you like flat whites, and he doesn’t like coffee at all.

“after abu dhabi, i’ll take you on a real date. i promise.” he sounds excited as he says it, and you melt into his side.

“oh yeah?” you ask, looking up at him, your cheeks smushed against his shoulder. he tucks your hair behind your ear, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. he just hums in response, gazing down at you.

“gonna talk to your brothers as well.” he murmurs, dipping down to peck your lips.

“not just yet.” you whisper. he furrows his eyebrows.

“why?” he doesn’t sound upset, maybe a little deflated.

“i wanna enjoy this a bit longer, at least go on a real date before, you know, they kill you.” you keep your tone serious, holding it together well. he bursts out laughing, squeezing you closer.

“and here i was worried that you were ashamed of me.” he’s grinning toothily, boyish and pure, and you kiss him again, deeper.

“never.” you coo.

11. daylight.

abu dhabi is a distant memory by the time you get back to monaco. you were happy for your brother and your boyfriend.

yeah, that’s what you get to call him now.

your first date had been effortless and yet so intricately perfect, lando planning it down to the last detail. flowers delivered to you the morning of, picking you up at the door, telling you just how beautiful you looked. your table had been waiting for you, candlelit, dressed immaculately. a bottle of red wine served as the centrepiece, your favourite kind. swoon.

he orders pizza, you order pasta. halfway through, you switch plates.

you wake up the next morning in his arms, content and satiated, still bare from the night before. your phone is buzzing, stirring your both out of your deep sleep. you ignore it.

“c’mere.” he begs, breath fanning out across your neck and you wriggle backwards, further into his arms. your naked skin moulds with his, and you can feel him, ready and waiting against the curve of your ass. he’s still half asleep, and so are you, but you spread your legs just enough for him to swipe himself through your folds and slip right in.

you groan at the stretch, he shushes you soothingly, clinging to your frame. everything is so warm and heightened.

“so ready for me.” he whispers, kissing over your shoulder, hips making the most minimal, languid thrusts that make you dizzy.

“want you like this every morning.” you purr, hiking your top leg up even further. he’s basically on top of you now, his body half covering yours.

lando drags your hips back to meet his, breathing heavily against the back of your neck.

“anytime you want me ‘m here. ‘m yours.” lando mutters, eyes rolling back in his head when you clench around him. lewd sounds are exchanged between your lazy bodies, so worked up, two powder kegs desperate to explode.

it happens in waves, powerful orgasms washing over your bodies like the sunlight through the curtains. it’s bright and warm and leaves you buzzing underneath him, electrified.

“good morning.” you smirk, rolling over to face him.

he’s already sunk back down into the mattress, a satisfied grin on his face, eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks where his eyes have fallen shut. he looks angelic, and if it wasn’t for his devious ways, you’d hail him a saint.

“very good morning, baby.” lando pants, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“you look so pretty.” you breathe, raking your nails through his hair. he groans, shivers of pleasure radiating through his scalp and down his back.

“not as pretty as you.” he surges forward, pinning you to the bed, the pair of you a hazy mess of limbs and laughter, so wrapped up in eachother. he’s peppering you with kisses, all over you face and your chest, further and further down your body.

round two is about to commence, and you’re more than excited, ready to welcome him back between your thighs, when you both here a loud, repetitive thud coming from faraway. lando pulls back, trying to pinpoint the sound.

“is that the door?” he says to himself. “sorry, baby. need to get that.” he frowns apologetically. you sigh, waving your hand in understanding, watching as he grabs a robe.

charles nearly chokes on air and fury when he gets the all caps message from arthur, followed by one from lorenzo, then his publicist.

arthur: HAVE YOU SEEN TWITTER? i don’t know if i should laugh or cry

enzo: be nice to her, don’t be a little bitch

publicist: Charles, we will need to address this news immediately and conclude whether the photos are out of context or not. Meeting scheduled on the shared calendar.

first question: what fucking photos? did someone catch him picking his nose in public?

second question: who does he need to be nice too?

third question: can he not go five fucking minutes without some impending media crisis?

he opens twitter and doesn’t need to look hard, because there on his screen is a picture taken the night before of his precious baby sister, and there is lando fucking norris with his tongue down her throat.

alex asks him where he’s going, watching him storm out keys in hand. he doesn’t respond with anything but a growl and a mutter of your name. alex’s eyes go wide, reached for her phone.

to: your number

girl he knows! idk how but he KNOWS!

for once in your life PICK UP THE PHONE

JESUS OKAY i just saw twitter…

OKAY im tracking charles location rn and looks like he’s near lando’s?

MISS LECLERC PLEASE! HELLO?????

it was nice knowing you babe.

you pick up your phone as lando leaves the room, scrolling absentmindedly through your notifications. your interest peaks, however, when you see about a million texts from alex, and even more missed call. in fact, you have literally thousands of notifications, and your blood runs cold.

you’d been so careful last night, surely it hadn’t leaked. your blood runs cold when you open your text chain with alex. the aggressive knocking on the door suddenly makes harrowing sense and you spring from the mattress just in time to hear the front door click.

“is she here?” you hear charles bellow, voice laced thickly with anger.

“uh… who?” lando tries, he really does, but he’s not a good liar. you wince, grabbing anything to cover your dignity: lando’s sweats and a t-shirt. you scramble out of the bedroom, sliding down the corridor from the sheer speed you’re moving at.

“fucking hell.” charles sighs, wincing at the sight of you. “of all the people on the planet, you pick my rival? you pick him?” charles barks at you. you close your eyes, focusing on your breathing as your chest constricts. “i told you. i specifically told you not to mess around with him, and c’mon, i don’t ask you for much.” charles throws his hands out in frustration.

“charles, listen to me,” you keep your voice calm and steady. “we’re not messing around, we… we’re together.” you confirm, watching his jaw tick.

“together? with him? do you know how many girls probably think they’re in a relationship with him? half of the portuguese modelling industry is linked to him.” charles laughs incredulously, disgusted. your eyes narrow, watching lando crumble into a million pieces in your peripheral.

“don’t you dare ruin this for me! and how can you come into his house and speak to him that way? my god, charles, you don’t get it, do you? i can never be happy with anyone because of you! everyone, everyone, uses me to get to you and, god, i finally found someone who cares about me and couldn’t give less of a shit about who you are and you don’t approve? shall i stay single and lonely and in your shadow forever? should i go for some greasy hedge fund legacy who wants to fuck any leclerc he can get his hands on? huh? i’m sorry if you don’t approve, truly, i am, but you will not have a say in this.”

charles stays silent, as does lando, the only sound in the hallway being your heavy breathing, a symptom of your monologue. you feel the ghost of lando’s touch on your waist, soothing you from your outburst, and you lean into his touch, looking up at him. his eyes are reassuring, the only source of comfort.

charles watches intently, the silent communication between you both, and it knocks him for six. ultimately, he wants you to be happy, but it begs the question: can lando make you happy? the way you truly deserve? he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a muttered string of expletives.

“will you look after her?” he stares daggers at lando, watches the way the brit straightens up.

“i will.” lando nods firmly, eyes sincere.

“and you won’t hurt her? you won’t fuck her around?” charles looks like he’s desperately pleading, but his voice is commanding, no margin for error.

“i promise.”

“and you’ll make her happy?”

“i’d do anything for her.”

your head snaps towards lando, the tears you’d been holding back finally breaking the dam. charles watches closely, steps backwards towards the door. there isn’t space for him here right now.

“okay. i- okay.” you watch the way charles backs down, and he finally meets your eyes again. “ma chére, je suis désolé.” he tells you solemnly. you nod, lips in a thin, hard line. you can feel lando nudge you forward.

“come here, loser.” you groan, opening your arms for your brother. charles meets you half way, squeezes you tight. he gently kisses your forehead and turns to leave, not before shooting lando a look that says ‘i’m watching you.’

you turn back to your newfound boyfriend, tears still falling, but you pay them no mind.

“well done, baby.” he affirms, thumbing away your tears.

“i love you, lando.” you whisper, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. “thank you.” his eyes glaze over, total adoration swirling in the pools of green.

“so glad you said that because i absolutely love you too.” he laughs, hauling you in for a kiss. it’s a mess of tears and laughter and a weird sense of serenity.

“you might wanna call your publicist. pictures of last night leaked.” you mumble against his lips.

“at least we don’t have to sneak around anymore.” he shrugs. “i’ll call later. got things to do.” he picks you up effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder. you squeal, and he teasingly slaps your ass.

you catch sight of the apartment as he walks you through it, and you think about the first time you saw it, under the cover of darkness, covert and clandestine.

you much prefer it in the light of day.

you prefer lando in the light of day, too.

yourusername and landonorris just posted on instagram:

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and others.

yourusername: oops!

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thank god that’s over lmfao - thank you for reading!!

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yuramour · 6 days ago

Text

★ IT'S TRUE LOVE — F1 GRID

synopsis. f1 grid as different romance tropes pairing. f1 grid x reader (ft. mv1, yt22, ln4, op81, gr63, ka12, cl16, lh44, dr3, aa23, cs55, ob87, ih6, jd7) genre. fluff, angst??, headcanons warnings. mostly fluff?, some of these are angsty tho, some brief mentions of suggestiveness, not proofread wc. 7k (about 500 per driver, 2 paragraphs each)

a/n. ollie's is based on a dream i had that i woke up CRYING from. also, i think isack's is the longest, but like...that's my man stfu. also, very much not proofread. soz!

MAX VERSTAPPEN

☆ strangers to lovers?

you and max met when you first moved to italy. you were working the front desk at a fancy hotel in monza that served as a temporary home for some of the richest people in the world. he hardly paid you any notice at first- just a simple smile and wave whenever he passed by the front desk. you didn't really know anything about formula 1- or really care. but something about the man stuck with you. after a few months of working at the hotel, he finally approached. asking if you wanted to go for a drive. of course, you said yes. he took you to a secluded lookout point at the edge of the city. you talked for hours, the conversation winding down after the sun had long since set. it was clear he just wanted someone to talk to, confide in. someone who didn't care about who he was. he took you back to his hotel room that night- and in the morning, he was gone. it turned into something of a routine for you two; every time he would visit monza, he'd stay in your hotel, take you out for a drive after your shift, and invite you to stay the night with him. every time, he'd tell you he missed you. those words awakened some sick satisfaction in you every time he uttered them- he missed you. he thought about you.

you knew nothing would ever come of it. he was rich, powerful, at the top of his game. everyone knew him. everyone loved him. and you? you were nothing. barely even a character in the background of everyone else's life. but every night you got to spend with max, you felt like the world revolved around just the two of you. then came the night he told you he loved you- you thought he'd said it as a mistake, just a slip of the tongue as his hands wandered your body. but he said it again the morning after, when he thought you were deep in sleep. maybe nothing would ever come of it. you were from two different worlds. your paths only crossing when he had business in the city. but you held on hope that next time he came, he'd whisk you away from the monotony of your life and tell you he loved you with his chest. but until then, you reveled in the fact that he thought of you when he was gone- the image of you at that lookout point in your pretty red dress staring out at the sunset was burned into the back of his mind.

YUKI TSUNODA

☆ forced proximity

you would've liked to be friends with yuki, as everyone else seemed to be. but any time the two of you were left in a room together, he'd leave as quick as he could. it was like he was avoiding you. in the heart of winter, the red bull racing team informed you that you'd be going to a conference in switzerland with the team. you were excited to be getting out of the country for a while. you'd been going through a bad breakup- the type of breakup that practically crippled you with misery. so you were willing to take any opportunity to run from your problems. the night you arrived at the giant house the team had rented for the weekend, you decided to stay in and take a nap while the rest of the team went out to explore the town. you woke up a few hours later to a dark house, the wind howling loudly outside your window. you stumbled down the stairs- nearly jumping out of your skin when you ran into (literally) none other than yuki tsunoda, who told you that he opted to stay behind and rest as well. at first, the tension in the house was palpable- the awkward air between you and yuki thick as you waited for the storm to pass. the blizzard outside lasted for two days- the rest of the team unable to come back up to the house, leaving you and yuki alone the entire time. the first several hours were awkward, his apparent aversion to you still going strong. but slowly, very slowly, you managed to wear him down- getting him to crack a few smiles, joke around with you a bit, and by the second day, you would even call yourselves friends.

the team eventually got back up to the house, apologizing profusely for having to leave you and yuki alone during that time. but neither of you minded. for some reason, the next few days at work, you avoided yuki like the plague. now it was your turn to flee the room whenever you were left together- the tension in the room immediately turning up to 100 every time you were alone with him. it was too much for you. you didn't expect yuki to show up at your apartment on a random friday night. but by the time morning came, you couldn't find it in yourself to complain. that same day, you threw out everything of your exes that you'd kept for some stupid sentimental reason- expelling his memory from your home. while your heart was heavy when you saw his coat in your closet, you grinned like a lovestruck teenager when a few days later, you saw the toothbrush yuki had left in your bathroom. just a few weeks ago, you never would've guessed that yuki tsunoda- the man who was seemingly determined to keep you as far away from his as possible- would be the one to help you finally get over the man whose memory had been holding you back.

LANDO NORRIS

☆ enemies to lovers

you hated lando norris. and lando norris hated you. despite having so many mutual friends, you always managed to rub each other the wrong way. especially recently. you'd been going through a bit of a hard time- you were an american fashion designer and stylist. that's how you and lando first crossed paths. you were the personal stylist of carlos sainz back when he and lando were teammates. you were young, eager to prove yourself, and you did just that. your styling on carlos had opened a lot of doors for you in the fashion industry- and you took every opportunity you got to move up the ranks. you kept in close contact with carlos, having become close to him over the two years you were his stylist, and even becoming close to some of his own friends. you'd been having a rough few months- a well respected fashion journalist had given your new line a horrible review, which led to half of your contracts dropping you, and hardly anyone in the industry willing to even interact with you. carlos invited you to a party one night, just to get you out of your apartment that you'd been sulking in for the past couple weeks. unfortunately, he didn't tell you that the party was a celebration. for lando. of course.

you spent the whole night avoiding him as best you could, not wanting to hear him jeer over you potentially losing your career. you ended up standing outside, the cool air helping clear your mind of every horrible thought that ran through it. you were having a pleasant time until none other than lando norris sidled up next to you, you rolled your eyes and made a move to walk away, but he reached out for you, and for some reason, you stayed. and maybe it was the alchocol, but, you confided in him, telling him your fears, your hopes, everything that you'd never thought you'd say to him. and he listened. and he didn't judge. he told you about his own life, how he felt he was on a downward spiral, the confident cocky facade he'd put on around you slipping away until all you saw was him. the real him. you blamed it on the alcohol, but something in the both of you shifted. you couldn't deny that the kiss you shared that night made you feel something you'd never felt before. you kept your relationship a secret- not wanting the tabloids and media that seemingly hated the both of you to take the knowledge of your relationship and run with it. the more time you spent with lando, the more you saw of the real him, who held you so gently, treated you like you hung the moon and the stars, instead of the lando who criticized your every move, making you want nothing more than to scream at him (which you often had). you realized that he was just like you. hurt by the world, and by himself. and now, you were helping each other heal.

OSCAR PIASTRI

☆ opposites attract

oscar wasn't a party person. hell, he wasn't even really a people person. but you were. so he forced himself to be. you had met at an afterparty that you were dj-ing years ago. neither of you ever thought that you'd end up where you were- you were loud, excitable, a total social butterfly. and he was anything but that. he liked to keep to himself, holding his real thoughts and feeling close to his chest. but you took pleasure in breaking down walls, getting people to say what they really felt. he didn't like partying- but he loved watching you have fun. he was content to watch from the sidelines as you danced with your friends, approached complete strangers to strike up conversation, enjoying being the center of the universe. at the beginning of your relationship, it took you a while to understand each other- you didn't really get why oscar preferred to stand in the back of the room, just observing, and he didn't really understand how you had the energy to party so long, how you were able to talk to anyone and everyone so effortlessly. it took a lot time time and patience, but you grew to love and appreciate those differences.

both of your favorite moments together were in the back of the cab after the parties- your head resting on your shoulder, his hand on your knee. you were always so tired after the parties, just wanting to go home with oscar, take a warm bath, and sleep soundly wrapped in his arms. and he loved to take care of you, washing your hair, setting a big cup of water and bottle of aspirin of your bedside table for your inevitable hangover. or the aftermath of the parties you'd throw at your shared apartment; the quiet music still playing through the speakers as you cleaned up the half-empty discarded bottle on the tables. oscar taking your hand and pulling you close, taking his turn to dance with you now that everyone else had left. everybody questioned how the two of you managed to stay together- your lifestyles seemingly complete opposites of each other. they didn't see the way you brought oscar out of his shell, bringing out the goofy personality he hid under that nonchalant persona. and they didn't see the way oscar taught you to appreciate the quiet moments, like cooking together or staying in and watching tv. they didn't understand that if you really love someone, you find a way to make it work. and you and oscar definitely made it work.

GEORGE RUSSELL

☆ high school sweethearts

you couldn't count on both hands the years that you and george had been together. your relationship was practically perfect by almost every mean. you started dating when you were both sixteen. going from sitting next to each other in biology to cheering him on at his races. you supported george through every step in his racing career, form f4 all the way to f1. through all the traveling, stress, and high emotions, you and george stuck together. you often felt out of place amongst the people that had become george's peers; the billionaires, the models, the politicians- but george never made you feel like you didn't belong with him in his world. it wasn't like you needed constant reassurance that he wouldn't leave you for some model- but he gave it to you anyway. telling you that there's no one else he'd rather come home to. you shared a pretty apartment with an even prettier view, often spending your evenings on the balcony with a glass of wine, watching the sun set over the water. it was simple. it was lovely.

of course, no relationship comes without its ups and downs. and while it was mostly ups, the downs were...pretty down. you knew george supported you in your career just as you did him. always cheering you on during your final exams or whenever you got a promotion. you knew he supported you. but he said something in a post-race interview that just made you feel distinctly unimportant. like he didn't even care about you or your aspirations. you knew that he could say some pretty dumb stuff due to the post-race adrenaline and general stress of race week. he'd said a lot of things he didn't mean over the years. but this really set you off. you were packing your bags in the hotel, getting ready to go home early. you didn't want to be around him at the moment. but you never could stay mad at him for long. he was practically (literally) in tears as he explained himself- the shame of his words flooding over him as you begged you not to leave. of course you would never leave him. the two of you went home together early, dodging the parties and interviews for the comfort of your home. at home, he listened when you told him how his words made you feel, and he explained what he really meant by his words. as the two of you ended the night as you always did- sharing a bottle of wine on your balcony- you found yourself counting your blessings. you didn't know what you did to deserve such a beautiful, healthy, perfectly imperfect relationship, but you knew you'd never take it for granted. and neither would he.

KIMI ANTONELLI

☆ fake relationship

you swore it started as a joke. ollie had made a stupid bet that kimi wouldn't be able to find a girlfriend before the summer ended- he was right, of course. which is why kimi asked you- one of his oldest friends- to help him out. was it cheating? sure. but kimi couldn't let ollie win that bet. it was fun at first; trying to trick ollie into believing that you two were actually dating. you and kimi went on "dates" so you could post them on instagram to make it more believable. you held hands in public, after every race, kimi would rush over to you first, and you'd hug him tightly, leaning your forehead against where his would be under his helmet. you giggled while reading the comments about how cute of a couple you were. because there was no way you two would actually date. you were friends. best friends. and this was all just an elaborate joke.

and then came the night at the bar. kimi and ollie had a couple of weeks before their next race, and wanted to celebrate their break along with some of the other rookies and their girlfriends. you, being kimi's "girlfriend" were invited along as well. it was all fine. really, it was. even though kimi was seemingly flirting with another girl right in front of you and all your friends. it hurt. you knew it shouldn't have, but it did. and you knew why. you always knew. but as soon as the tears in your eyes started shedding without warning, kimi noticed immediately and whisked you away. you cried the whole drive home, continuously telling him that you were fine- but of course you weren't. you didn't remember asking him to stay- or maybe you didn't ask. but when you walked into the living room of your apartment the next morning to find kimi asleep on the couch, you knew you needed to talk. you thought he'd leave the second you told him you loved him- but he stayed, and told you the same. guess it never really was a joke, after all

CHARLES LECLERC

☆ starcrossed lovers

it seemed as though no matter how hard you tried, things never seemed to work out between you and charles. schedules never aligning, families never approving, media never leaving you alone. you'd been with charles for six years- more or less. it felt like fate when you first met. despite your drastically different lives, it seemed like the universe just kept drawing you two together- bumping into each other in the most random places. you first met while you were working at a coffee shop in your final year at university- and then again while you were vacationing in italy during your celebratory graduation trip- and he remembered you. you didn't know anything about him, or who he was, but it just felt right. the first several months of your relationship were difficult. you'd just started grad school, and were fully committed to continuing your education- which he understood. and your parents were vehemently against your relationship, stating that he was a distraction from your studies, that you two were rushing into things, and that given his career, he'd surely be unfaithful to you. things only got harder after you went public with your relationship. you'd been together in private for a little over a year- flying out to see each other whenever you could, nightly video calls, and constant texting had long been the norm in your relationship. but charles wanted you to really be a part of his life. so you agreed to attend one of his races, and make your first public appearance as his girlfriend.

the articles were written practically the second you stepped foot in the paddock. tabloids digging into your family history and questioning why charles leclerc- the prince of monaco- one of the most famous men in the history of the sport- would be with you, who was by all means, nobody. it felt as though things were on a constant downward spiral after that. of course, you and charles loved each other, there was no doubt about that. but you weren't used to this life. you weren't used to people with cameras waiting for you outside of class, customers taking pictures of you working to post online, stumbling across random hate posts while peacefully scrolling through social media. despite charles constant reassurance that he loved you, tha he supported you, that you were all he ever wanted, you just couldn't handle the pressure. that was the first time the two of you broke up. but like i said earlier, it was as though the universe was intent on making your paths cross. maybe it was intentional on his part- the panel he held at your university one year after your breakup, and of course, you just couldn't stay away from each other. but that didn't last for long- your second breakup came not long after. you'd gotten your masters degree, and wanted to focus on your career. you somehow managed to stay away from him for two years after that. until you were invited to speak at a conference in monaco, that charles was the guest of honor at. there was no denying that you missed each other. and when you ended up going home with him that night, you were determined to stay this time. fuck the tabloids, fuck your parents. he was yours. always had been, and always would be.

LEWIS HAMILTON

☆ second chance

ten years. that's how many years you'd dedicated to lewis hamilton. you started dating right out of high school, after having been friends for years. you supported lewis throughout his entire career, all his ups and downs. you were always there, cheering him on no matter what. when lewis signed to mclaren for his first ever f1 season, you couldn't have been prouder. he'd been working towards formula 1 for such a long time, and it was finally happening. at first, you loved going to all the parties with lewis. you were never much of a party person, but you went for him, just proud to see him being recognized for the talented man you always knew he was. but after the first couple seasons, his new lifestyle had just gotten to be...too much for you. you of course were so proud of him in all his success, but all the parties, the practices, the traveling, all that was enough in and of itself. but you just felt so...out of place in his life. now instead of celebrating his wins with his friends from home, he was celebrating with celebrities; models, actors, musicians, all the people you saw on tv that seemed so unattainable were now falling over themselves to talk to your boyfriend at the afterparties. you were never an insecure person- but that realization made you feel so small. when you first shared your feeling to lewis, he assured you that those people meant nothing to him- that all he really wanted at the end of the day was to come home to you. that he'd miss every single party if it meant being able to watch tv on the couch in your shared apartment. but the question burned in the back of your mind; if that was all he really wanted, why was he even at the parties?

the breakup was gradual. lewis would come home from the races and accuse you of being unsupportive, and you'd accuse him of not caring about you now that he was famous. you weren't really sure who was in the wrong, but after ten years of commitment, ten years of love, of support, of being family, you were done. he was the one to tell you that it was over, but you both knew it was only a matter of time. and now, almost a decade later, you were certain you'd fully moved on. you were sure that lewis had forgotten all about you. he went on to date models and actresses, while you focused on your career. you certainly hadn't expected to see him at the charity gala that your boss had invited you to, but here he was. he'd somehow changed so much in the past ten years, and not at all. he was older, more poised, but his face was practically the exact same. like he hadn't aged a day since you last saw him. he was talking to some politician when he saw you, jaw immediately dropping once he noticed your presence. you don't know why you followed him when he silently asked you with a tilt of his head to meet you out on the balcony, but you did. the conversation flowed as naturally as it always had, and the tearful apology followed soon after. you took his offer to take you out for dinner the following night. it was like you were meant to follow him up to his penthouse with how naturally it felt. you stayed the night with him, and the night after, and the night after, when suddenly, you realized that weeks had passed without even realizing it. falling so easily back into your old routine that you'd broken out of over a decade ago. it all just felt so natural, so right, so perfect. maybe time really does bring you closer.

CARLOS SAINZ

☆ unrequited to requited love

you were everything to carlos. his oldest friend, his closest confidant, his lifeline. you'd known each other for almost as long as he could remember- you karted together as kids until an injury prevented you from furthering your career. after that, you just kind of stuck with carlos, which he was thankful for. he loved having you around, always there to cheer him on for every win, and pick him back up after every loss. as you got older, you followed him less and less, focusing on your newfound passion in journalism- but the bond between you remained stronger than ever. a few years after he joined the formula 1 grid, you became a presenter for the sport, your previous experience in karting and constant exposure due to your best friends career coming in handy. carlos had always admired your way with people, with speaking, able to speak to eloquently even under intense pressure. truth be told, carlos could listen to you speak for hours and never get bored. he had listened to you speak for hours and not gotten bored. carlos loved everything about you, really. always had. in fact, he'd been in love with you for nearly as long as he could remember. he'd drunkenly confessed to you the night he finished his first f1 race- and you let him down easy. because you didn't love him the same way. he pretended to not remember what he said the morning after, and you were content thinking he really didn't.

before that night, you somehow hadn't picked up on the fact that carlos was in love with you- despite it apparently being painfully obvious to everyone else. maybe you just didn't want to think that your best friend saw you in that way- because you really didn't see him in that way. at least, you didn't before that night. but after his confession, you started seeing carlos in a new light- the way his big brown eyes focused on you so intently whenever you spoke, the way he ran his hands through his thick hair whenever he was frustrated, the way he would squeeze your hand before the two of you parted ways for your separate jobs on the track. they were all habits you'd noticed before, but for some reason, your started stuttering whenever you met his eyes when you spoke, your stomach fluttering whenever he ran his hands through his hair, your hand felt empty as his left yours. you pushed those feelings down- thinking that surely after his drunken confession wasn't how he truly felt. it had been a couple years, after all. surely if it was real, he didn't feel that way anymore. until one night, the two of you were celebrating his first win with ferrari- a huge achievement for your friend. something about the way the dim lighting of your apartment made his skin glow, his eyes soft as you drunkenly giggled at a lame joke he'd made. he just looked so perfect. you hadn't intended to tell him you loved him- but you did. immediately regretting it when he froze, telling you that you'd had too much to drink. he helped you into bed, pressing a kiss to your forehead before leaving your room. the following morning, you went into the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee. you attempted to explain yourself, but he stopped you. simply asking if what you said was true. of course, it was. and of course, he still loved you. as he always did.

ALEX ALBON

☆ soulmates

somehow, it had always been you and alex. it was like your lives were intwined from the moment you were born. there were so many coincidences throughout the course of your lives- somehow often being in the same place at the same time without even knowing. you were literally born at the same hospital, two years apart, delivered by the same doctor. him and your brother had karted together for a brief time as kids- alex had even found a picture of the two of them together, with you looking on in the background, buried deep in a box in his parents basement. you wouldn't realize it until years later, but the two of you even shared a math tutor, occasionally passing by each other as your sessions ended and his began. when you got older, you and your brother decided to move to monaco- your brother had long retired from karting and turned towards engineering, managing to snag a role as an engineer for none other than the atlassian williams formula 1 team. you were really just along for the ride. you'd always followed your brother wherever he went, and he hadn't led you astray yet. his work at williams was enough to cover the rent for your little apartment, but you decided to pick up a job on the side as a barista at an aesthetic little cafe while you did online university classes.

you loved your job as a barista. especially since you were in monaco. all the random celebrities and politicians you met in your day-to-day life was something you never even dreamed of. and now you were a background character in their lives. it was fun! you enjoyed being an observer, watching these seemingly untouchable people live somewhat "normal" lives, ordering coffee like your average person. your cafe was right on the route of alex's morning runs, but he didn't ever go in. not until over a year of you working there. you had no idea who he was. despite the fact that your brother worked closely with him as an engineer for his team, and the fact they they karted together as kids (a fact that neither of them remembered), you didn't even really watch f1. only really knowing the most famous racers. your interaction at the cafe was like literally any other- no more than a few words on each side exchanged, and then he was off. but you would see him again just a few months later during the monaco grand prix. your brother had managed to snag you a pass for the race, able to get you inside the williams garage for you to see his job up close. when he introduced you to the racers, the chemistry between you and alex was immediate. it was like the two of you had known each other your whole lives (totally unaware that you sort of had). he asked for your number as soon as your brother was out of earshot, and not even a week after that, you were officially dating. the realization of how entwined your lives were came slowly, childhood stories lining up weirdly perfectly, joking about how odd it was until realizing that you were telling the same story. you never felt a connection with anyone else the way you felt it with alex. it was as if there was an invisible string that had been drawing you together your whole lives- and you wouldn't have it any other way.

DANIEL RICCIARDO

☆ meet cute

you weren't quite sure how you ended up alone at a wine-tasting event at a winery in australia- several thousand miles away from home. you knew nothing about wine. or alcohol in general, really. but here you were. you weren't the type to go to events alone- or to go to events at all. you were a bit of a homebody, but you'd made a new years resolution to go on a spontaneous solo trip. which you were starting to really really regret. despite almost regretting the thousands of dollars and time that you'd spent to come here, you decided that if you were going to be here, you were going to get at least a little bit tipsy. you were a big introvert, and you were completely content just standing in the corner not talking to anyone, and not having anyone come up and talk to you. but as you got your third fourth glass of wine and went to retreat back to your corner, you found yourself colliding with what, in your inebriated state, felt like a brick wall. looking up, you quickly realized that it was not in fact a brick wall, but a very handsome man, in a very expensive looking suit- that you had just spilled red wine all over. you stuttered out an apology, embarrassed tears threatening to spill from your eyes before you looked up and saw the man...grinning? a chuckle escaping his lips as you fumbled over your words. he told you it was no big deal, that suit was old anyway. he helped you dust yourself off, inquiring about where you were from, your accent piquing his interest.

you weren't quite sure how you ended up spending the rest of your trip to australia with daniel ricciardo- but here you were, in the passenger seat of his car, singing along to an american country song. daniel was almost your complete opposite; he was charismatic, cool, friendly, practically magnetic. you were...definitely none of those things. fumbling through life as an awkward introvert, letting people walk all over you- until you met daniel. he clocked you immediately, from the second you met. he was determined to get you out of your shell, make you live life a little, and just enjoy the little things. he was dead set on making sure that your time in australia was the best time of your life. and it definitely was that. he took you sand duning, rock climbing, cliff diving, salsa dancing- things you could never see yourself doing in a million years. things you never would have done without daniel. at the beginning of your trip, you almost immediately regretting going in the first place- but as daniel drove you to the airport on your last day, you found yourself not wanting to leave. sitting in the parking lot of the airport, you and daniel sat in silence, just looking at each other. no words were exchanged, but the look in his eyes begged you to stay- and so you did. you didn't have much keeping you in your home country- your job was remote, your family lived across the country anyway, you had few (if any) friends. and if you went back, you wouldn't have daniel. maybe you were making a mistake, leaving your entire life behind for a man you met two weeks ago- but you weren't leaving your life behind, because your life was just starting.

OLLIE BEARMAN

☆ friends to strangers to lovers

you missed him. you had been best friends when you were kids- practically attached at the hip since you were born. you grew up right across the street from each other. your parents were best friends since before you were born, so naturally, the two of you were inseparable growing up. you of course supported ollie through his whole career, you were his most avid fan. it was blatantly obvious to everyone except him that you were completely in love with him. you should have told him. the night before he left, before he moved to italy forever, leaving everyone and everything behind for his career, the two of you were walking down the old streets of your neighborhood as you always did. you were looking up at him- he'd just gone through a growth spurt, you weren't quite used to it yet, and he looked down at you. you knew you should've told him then, but you didn't. you just let him go. you didn't know if you'd ever get to say it to him. after he moved, he was busy nearly 100% of the time. you tried to keep in contact at first, but it was hard. slowly but surely, the two of you fell out of contact. you kept an eye on his career, watching all his races, no matter what odd hours of the night you had to wake up for them, reading every article about him, practically stalking the instagrams of all his new friends. you wondered if he did the same for you. while you were proud of him, it sucked to see him living such a cool life. rather, it sucked to see him live such a cool life without you.

you weren't surprised at the people that ollie ended up around- especially after he managed to get the second haas seat. now that he was in f1, he was going to fancy parties, surrounded by the most rich and glamourous people out there. you didn't expect his parents to bring you out for one of his races- you weren't sure if you even wanted to go. you hadn't seen him for years, now. hadn't spoken to him for almost as long. you really wish you hadn't gone. it was so painfully awkward seeing him again- the weird side-hug, the fact that he'd gotten even taller, his accent had even changed. he didn't even sound like the same person you used to know. the next few days weren't much better; the weird tension between you two hadn't dissipated at all. it broke your heart that the boy who used to be your favorite person in the world now just felt like another stranger. the night before you and his parents went back home, you and ollie were alone for the first time in literal years. you hadn't really made much conversation in the past few days, the tension in the air between you too thick for much of that. the awkwardness came to a head when you realized that the two of you were sitting on complete opposite sides of the room from each other, staring at your phones. you were sick of it. you used to be best friends, you could talk about anything, literally anything. and now, it was like you didn't exist to each other. you were done with it. you crossed the room, stopping right in front of him, his brown eyes looking up to meet yours, confusion evident in his face. you laid it all on him- all your frustrations over the past few years and come spilling out without filter- and in those frustrations, was your confession. he sat still, mouth agape. you regretted it immediately, turning around to leave the room and hide from your shame- but he grabbed your wrist and turned you around, you both stood still for a moment, eye contact unwavering before he pulled you in. all those years spent thinking he'd forgotten about you, he was thinking the same about you.

ISACK HADJAR

☆ childhood friends to lovers

everyone you met thought that you and isack were a couple. he brought you practically everywhere with him, his hand a constant presence in yours. you always laughed at them, at the way everyone was so sure that there was something more between the two of you. clearly the two of you were best friends- practically since birth. obviously there was nothing more between you. you were just close. very very close. you never batted an eye the way you were the first person he ran to after a race, the way he placed his hand on the small of your back while walking through a crowd, or the way he took every opportunity to touch your face; brushing your hair behind your ear or wiping some invisible food from the corner of your mouth. and he never minded the way you would plant a kiss on his cheek- dangerously close to his lips after every race, good or bad. he never minded the way you not so subtly admired the slope of his nose and the freckles that adorned it, or the way your face flushed whenever he helped you with your bags, his biceps showing clearly through the fabric of his shirt. and neither of you paid any mind to the way you got a little too close while watching tv in your apartment, his arms wrapped tightly around your back as you both laid on the couch. or the way your lips got as close as they could without actually touching when you would turn in his arms to face him. you were friends. best friends. of course you were close...

you loved isack. of course you did, how could you not? he was funny, determined, passionate, yet so gentle and sweet. of course you loved isack. the two of you were at a party- he was never much for parties, but all the other drivers and their friends would be there. you figured it'd be good for him. you got a little drunk- not drunk enough to be delirious, but drunk enough to become the most confident you'd ever been in your life. and you were jealous. very jealous. you were proud of isack for fulfilling his lifelong dream of becoming a real formula 1 driver, but that meant he was getting a lot more...attention. normally, you'd cheer him on, be proud of him, maybe tease him a little bit in the car after the event. but tonight was different. there was a pit in your stomach eating away at you. all because of the way he laughed. you were across the room, standing between kimi and ollie, no longer paying attention to the conversation. because your attention was on him- or rather, on the girl that was making him laugh. you didn't even realize you were glaring at the pair until ollie asked if you were okay. you didn't answer- instead, you marched across the room with purpose, stopping right in front of the two. isack turned to you with a smile that quickly faded as soon as he saw the look on your face. you told him you were going home. it wasn't a question. he nodded and apologized to the girl, who, on any other day, you would have felt bad for. but you took isack's hand and marched him outside to his car. he drove you home without question, and when you turned to him after he stopped outside your apartment building and asked him to come in, he said yes without hesitation. nothing happened after that, you both just laid atop the covers on your bed, eyes gazing over each others features as if you were trying to memorize the placement of every freckle, every line, every perfect imperfection. you woke up the next morning to a headache and the smell of eggs wafting in from the kitchen. when your eyes landed on isack standing over the stove, cooking breakfast for you so dutifully- you felt it. you didn't remember telling him you loved him the night before, and you didn't remember him telling you the same- but you felt it in the way he looked up at you with that pretty smile, and that little gleam in his eye. it didn't need to be said with words, you could both feel it in the way you wrapped your arms around him from behind. you loved isack hadjar. and he loved you.

JACK DOOHAN

☆ best friend's brother

you never saw jack coming. his sister had been your best friend since you started school, so jack was always just kind of...there. he was your best friend's annoying older brother- that was really it. whenever you'd stay at the doohan's house, he would barge into his sister's room just to annoy the two of you- laughing when you both yelled and pushed him out of the room. whenever you were at their house sitting on the couch watching tv with your friend, overpriced smoothie in hand, he'd descend from his upstairs room and plop down next to you, snatching your smoothie from you hand and taking a sip before you yelled at him, taking the drink back and attempting to lay a hit on him. he'd just laugh and swat your hands away before going into the kitchen and returning with snacks for you and his sister. it wasn't like you had a crush on him growing up- you really didn't. you just couldn't see him that way. he was jack. your best friend's older brother who stole your food and made fun of your clothes. you could never like jack. that was at least, until you started university. you decided to go overseas for university- leaving australia and all that came with it behind as you started this new chapter of life. italy seemed like the best bet- far enough away from home to basically start fresh, but italy was a hub for both formula 1 and motogp, so you'd still get to see your best friends whenever she'd come to the country to support her dad and brother. you'd rarely seen jack over the past couple of years, his racing career had started taking off and consuming all his time. not that you minded, of course. you were friends with his sister anyway, not him. but something shifted the first time you saw him after your big move. something was different about him- or maybe about you. either way...it was weird.

you'd come home for christmas break, excited to see your family and friends after months of awkward communication through time zones and differing schedules. you decided to visit the doohan household. like old times, you let yourself in, calling out to see if anyone was home. the house seemed empty so you kicked your shoes off and made a beeline for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of juice that you knew your friend always had stockpiled. you nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard jack's voice behind you. your jaw dropped as your turned to look at him- he was different than last time you saw him. not even really in looks, just his energy. you held an awkward conversation in the kitchen before jack rolled his eyes and invited you to his room to watch a movie until his sister got home. you swallowed the lump in your throat and followed him without question. the tension in the air was thick as you both sat stiffly on opposite sides of the bed, determined to not look at each other. it was an accident when you did- but once your eyes locked, neither of you could look away. you never saw it coming- jack doohan; your best friends brother, who poked fun at your haircuts, rolled his eyes whenever you spoke, and ruffled your hair when he passed by. somehow, at the drop of a dime, you were in love with jack doohan. if you'd have told your middle school self that you'd end up making out with jack- your best friend's older brother, jack- on his bed, you'd have wrinkled your nose in disgust and called yourself a liar. but here you were, with your hands in his hair and his on your waist, and it was no lie. you loved jack doohan.

taglist: @revelauver @bear-yawns

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 6 months ago

Text

Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 3)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: fluff, smut this is the last part so I hope you enjoy it!!

part 2

It would be an understatement to say that Charles was over the moon when you and Louise showed up in the paddock on the race day. He was so delighted and happy that he had a hard time hiding it, and everyone present could see it.

He didn't separate from Lou, and he thanked you several times for bringing her and for coming with her telling you how much that meant to him.

Of course, you both attracted the attention of all the media, knowing that tomorrow the main news on the internet will be how Charles' ex-girlfriend appeared with his daughter in the paddock for the first time after a full year since the breakup.

The cameras were everywhere, but having learned from previous experiences, you decided to ignore them and pretend they didn't exist. All you were focused on was giving your daughter an unforgettable weekend and supporting Charles as well.

Lou got hungry so you and Charles decided to get her something to eat at the Ferrari hospitality. Lou didn't know what she wanted to eat, so Charles decided to leave his things at your table, including his phone, and said he would go with her to the restaurant to choose. While Lou went with Charles, you sat down at the table and scrolled through your phone waiting for them to come back.

“Am I seeing things or is it really y/n?” A very familiar voice asked you, making you look up from your phone.

“Carlos!” You smiled from ear to ear as you stand up to hug him.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you in the paddock. How come you’re here?” He asks curiously.

“Lou had a hard time accepting that she wouldn't be spending this weekend with her dad, so...yeah, here we are.”

“Oh man, he’s gonna beat my ass on the track today..” Carlos says shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little unsure of what he’s talking about.

“He always gives 110% on the track when Lou is there to support him, I can only imagine what it’ll be like today when you are there too.”

The two of you started catching up talking about what was new in your lives, what wasn't, and so on, until Carlos commented on Charles and Lou's relationship, saying that he really loves spending time with her and that he talks about her nonstop.

“She loves spending time with him too, he is her soulmate I’m sure.” You commented.

“And what about you? Is he your soulmate too?” Carlos asked catching you off guard.

Both you and Charles were close to Carlos and he pretty much knew everything about you and your relationship. He was also very angry with you when you broke up because he thought it was a bad decision and that you should have worked on your relationship and not give up on it so easily.

“I-I..” As you were trying to think of an answer to his question, at that very moment the screen of Charles's phone, which he had left on the table in front of you, lit up.

What caught your attention wasn't the notification he received, but your eyes got stuck on the wallpaper on his lock screen. It was a picture of you and Lou that Charles had taken shortly after you had given birth and came home from the hospital. You were lying on the bed and Lou was lying on your chest while you kissed her head.

It was a picture that was very dear to both you and Charles, and he had it as his wallpaper since the day he took it, and what surprised you the most was that he still had it to this day. Even though you were no longer together, he never changed it.

Carlos noticed what you were staring at and he basically took it as an answer to his question although he had already knew it.

“Uncle Carloss!!” Lou screamed with her mouth full of pizza as Charles carried her in his arms over to the table where Carlos and you were sitting.

“Hola, hermosa! Did you get hungry?” Carlos chuckled squeezing her cheek.

“Out of all the possible foods you can think of, my baby chose pizza.” Charles laughed sitting her down on the chair next to you.

You were completely lost in your thoughts and didn't even pay attention what the three of them were talking about. All you could think about was the picture you saw on Charles's phone and how you were getting closer to confessing your still deeply held feelings for him.

And of course today was just as Carlos said it would be. Not only did Charles beat Carlos’ ass on the track, but he also beat all the other drivers by proudly and deservedly taking P1. He couldn't let the win slip through his fingers in front of the two most important people in his life so he fought extra hard for it today.

When it was time to celebrate, your eyes filled with tears at how proud you were of him. First he celebrated with the team, then his eyes searched for you and Lou.

“You wanna congratulate daddy, baby?” You asked her and she nodded excitedly.

You pushed your way towards Charles with her in your arms and when you reached him he instantly hugged her and kissed her on the forehead.

“Good job, daddy!” She said.

“Thank you, baby. This one was for you.” He told her kissing her once again.

“Congratulations, Charles. We’re really proud of you.” You say softly smiling at him tears threatening to run down your cheeks.

“Thank you, y/n. Thank you for being here.” He said looking deep into your eyes.

The cameras went crazy over your family moment, closely capturing every interaction between you. It won't be until the next day when you see one of the taken photos of the two of you that it will become completely clear to you how your eyes are betraying you and showing how deeply and obviously in love you are with each other.

When the day was coming to an end, you didn't stay in the paddock any longer, but immediately got on the plane and flew to Monaco, all three of you together. Lou was completely exhausted and when you landed she was already asleep. Charles didn't offer but instead insisted on driving you to your apartment no matter how tired he was.

Charles, carefully so as not to wake her, carried her in his arms into her room and put her to bed. He kissed her goodnight before closing the door and going into the living room thinking he would say goodnight to you too.

“She’s sleeping like a log.” Charles chuckles quietly as he stands in front of you.

“Poor thing, she was so tired. She passed out as soon as we sat in the plane.”

“But I'm glad you came. Both of you. It really meant a lot to me to have you there.”

“I’m glad too. We had a lot of fun. Maybe we can come again sometime.” You say making him smile.

“Anytime you want” He says feeling that the conversation is slowly coming to an end. He wants to continue it so bad, but he knows that both of you are tired and with a heavy heart he has to leave, even though he would rather lie in bed with you now and hold you close to him all night.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now. It’s getting really late.” He says running his hand nervously through his hair while you bite the inside of your cheek so desperately wanting him to ask you if he can stay. “See you soon, yeah? Good night”

Before he turns around to head for the door, you decide that enough is enough. There have been so many obvious signs by now that it's not over between you and that you're still madly in love with each other that you don't want to waste another second being stubborn, but rather surrender to the moment and finally enjoy it.

“Or you can stay the night here..you know..i-if you want to” You blurt out stuttering the last part.

He turns slowly towards you. His expression is unreadable until he places his hands on your cheeks and asks you “Do you want me to stay?”

Without much hesitation, you nod your head and quietly say “I do.”

Initially, it was as if you were afraid to approach each other, as if you were afraid of each other's reaction even though both of you were hoping that the desire was mutual. Then his lips slowly and cautiously began coming closer and closer to yours.

At first, your lips just brushed, pulling back a little, and then they connected into a long, passionate and deep kiss that you both had been eagerly waiting for.

You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you let out deep breaths in relief you didn't even know you were holding in.

Things were moving quickly and you didn't waste any time getting to your bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he picked you up and without breaking the kiss, carried you into the room and laid you down on the bed.

Exhaustion was long forgotten when you took each other's clothes off and started kissing every part of each other’s body.

“I missed you, I missed you so much you don’t even know” He said into the kiss, barely catching his breath from the intense excitement he felt.

“I missed you too, Charles” You half whisper as he pushes into you and one tear rolls down the side of your face.

It felt so good. He felt so good inside you, fit so perfectly like he was made for you. He wanted to make love to you, to show you how much he cares about you so he kept going on and on making your legs shake so many times throughout the night, kissing every inch of your body, pulling you closer to him to calm you down, breathing in your scent and getting lost in your eyes.

“I’m gonna cum, baby” His voice trembled as he rested his forehead against yours and pulled his cock out of you cumming all over your stomach, hands free, then pushing himself back in and wincing.

You fell asleep with him holding you close all night. His arms were hugging you so tightly, as if he was afraid that if he let go even just for a second, he would wake up and it would all be just a dream.

The morning sun's rays didn't let you sleep past eight, so you spontaneously woke up together still in the same position you fell asleep in.

“Good morning ma cherie” He said with a kiss to your lips.

“Morning baby” You smiled caressing his cheek with your thumb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm, very well” He murmurs against your skin. “And you?”

“Me too. I haven't slept this peacefully in a long time.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah” You glance at the clock out of the corner of your eye and see that it's almost time for Lou to wake up. “Oh shit, Charles you need to leave, Lou is about to wake up” You say nervously, which completely confuses Charles.

“What? What do you mean I need to leave? Why can’t she know that I’m here?”

“It's not that she can’t know it’s just that I want us to take it slow this time. I'm afraid of screwing this up because it feels so good and so right and I don't know if I could handle us hurting each other again.” You sigh as you explain your reasons to him. “And most of all, I don't want to break Lou's heart.”

He pauses for a moment to think about what you just said and realizes that it makes sense and that you're right. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry we’ll take things slow to make it right this time.” After all, he just wants to fulfill all your wishes and wants to make you happy with whatever you want. “So when do I get to see you again?” He asks and you laugh at his silly question. “What?” He asks confused.

“It's funny that you ask me that. You can see us whenever you want. It's just for a short time until we see how things develop and then of course we'll live together again.”

“I can’t wait for that.”

Soon he got out of the bed and got dressed. He kissed you barely breaking away from you before heading out of the bedroom. The door to Lou's room was open and so he walked slowly on his tiptoes, not wanting to wake her up.

But he realized that was in vain when, passing by her room, he heard “Daddy?!” He stopped in his tracks, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing quietly under his breath.

She’d already seen him and he couldn't leave now or get out of the situation in any way, so he decided to go into her room and say good morning to her.

“Hey, baby. Good morning”

“What are you doing here?! Did you sleep here?!” She didn't know what to ask him first from how happy she was that it was morning and he was there.

When the two of them appeared at your bedroom door, it was clear to both you and Charles that from that moment on, you were all living together again.

“Hi there” Charles said holding her in his arms and looking at you.

You didn't say anything, you just covered your face with your hands and started laughing before you uncovered the quilt and said "come here, both of you"

@charlesgirl16 @aleatorio1234 @teamnovalak @watermelonslut @diaryofarandomkid @sunny44 @tempo-rary-fix @ggaslyp1 @janeh22 @seonghwaexile @seasonswinter @itgirlofthecenturysposts @ricciardosredbull @amz824 @sarx164 @seonghwaexile @landossainz @little-miss-naill @taygrls @sturmatt @myescapefromthislife @stylesmoonlight12 @st4rgirl-ellie @eloriis @sillyfreakfanparty @rebelliousneferut @kahhorri @hard4ndsoft @weekendlusting

#charles leclerc one shot #f1 fic #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 scenario #f1 smut #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader

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scoupsakakitty · 2 months ago

Text

Burning Jealousy | idol!Vernon x Reader | angst, fluff

The sound of the espresso machine filled the small café, blending harmoniously with the low chatter of customers and the clinking of ceramic cups. Y/N expertly poured steamed milk into a cup, creating a perfect heart-shaped latte art. Just as she placed it on the counter, Sofia leaned against the register with a mischievous grin.

"So, guess who’s coming to New York next week?" Sofia asked, her voice laced with excitement.

Y/N glanced at her, wiping her hands on her apron. "Seventeen?"

"Bingo!" Sofia beamed. "And you’re coming with me."

Y/N hesitated. She should’ve seen this coming. Of course, Sofia would want to see the group—her brother included—especially since she had a crush on one of the backup dancers, Joon. Y/N knew about her little infatuation; Sofia wouldn’t shut up about him.

"I don’t know…" Y/N trailed off.

Sofia pouted, reaching for Y/N’s arm. "Come on, you have to! Please? It’s been forever since we went on a trip together. And you love New York!"

Y/N sighed. Saying no to Sofia had always been impossible. Despite everything, she still adored her. Even though she was Vernon’s little sister, their friendship had remained strong, even after the breakup.

"Fine," Y/N relented, shaking her head with a small smile.

Sofia squealed, clapping her hands together. "Yes! You won’t regret it. And, uh… Vernon’s gonna be there too."

Y/N’s stomach twisted slightly, but she forced a neutral expression. "I figured."

Sofia hesitated before speaking again. "I just— I feel bad, you know? I introduced you two, and now you’re both sad, and I feel responsible."

Y/N softened. "It’s not your fault, Sof. We just… didn’t work out."

Sofia nodded, but she still looked guilty. "I still think you guys were perfect together."

Y/N chose not to respond.

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

The city greeted them with its usual bustle—yellow taxis honking, the crisp scent of roasted nuts from street vendors, and the towering skyscrapers. Y/N took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar energy of the city she loved.

After checking into their separate hotel rooms, Sofia turned to Y/N. "Hey, I’m gonna meet up with Vernon for a bit. Then later, we’ll meet up with Joon and his friend, okay?"

Y/N blinked. "You’re meeting Vernon alone?"

"Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll let you know how it goes."

Y/N just nodded, suddenly feeling more nervous than she expected.

Vernon walked beside Sofia, hands shoved in his pockets, as they strolled through a quiet part of the city. He had always been close with his sister, so he could tell she was up to something.

"Why’d you really want to meet up, Sof?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

She grinned. "What, I can’t just want to see my favorite brother?"

"I’m your only brother."

"Exactly." She bumped his shoulder. "I wanted to tell you that Y/N’s here too. And she’s coming to the concert."

Vernon stopped walking. "She is?"

Sofia nodded. "Yeah. She came with me."

His heart did an involuntary flip. "Why didn’t she come with you now?"

Sofia raised a brow. "Seriously?"

Vernon exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, that was dumb."

Sofia gave him a look before asking, "Do you still have feelings for her?"

Vernon stared at her. He knew the answer, but saying it out loud felt too real.

"It doesn’t matter, does it?" he muttered, avoiding her gaze.

Sofia sighed. "You should talk to her."

Vernon remained silent.

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

The club was packed, music thrumming through the floor. Y/N laughed as she danced with Joon’s friend, feeling lighter than she had in months. Sofia was busy with Joon, their chemistry obvious. Drinks were flowing, and for once, Y/N allowed herself to just enjoy the moment.

Sofia posted stories throughout the night. One particular video captured Y/N twirling, laughing with the backup dancer. Harmless, really.

But when Vernon saw it, he saw red.

Vernon had spent the night pacing. He wasn’t the type to let jealousy consume him, but seeing Y/N like that—so carefree, with someone else—made something inside him snap.

By morning, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He marched down to the hotel reception, asking for Y/N’s room. When he found it, he knocked. Then knocked again. And again, until she finally groggily opened the door, hair messy from sleep.

"Vernon?" she asked, blinking in confusion.

He didn’t wait. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"What the hell was last night?" he demanded, voice sharp.

Y/N frowned. "Excuse me?"

"You were all over him!" His tone was nearly a growl. "Seriously, Y/N? One year together, and you move on just like that? With my backup dancer, of all people?"

Y/N’s shock turned into anger. "Are you kidding me? Vernon, we broke up. You don’t get to tell me what I do anymore."

"I know, but—!" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "It’s hard, okay? Seeing you with someone else. It drives me insane."

She folded her arms. "Oh, and I suppose all those dating rumors about you don’t count?"

"That’s different!"

"How?"

He hesitated. "Because it was never real. None of it. But you—you were dancing with him, laughing with him, letting him touch you!"

Her eyes widened. "Are you hearing yourself?"

His jaw clenched. "I can’t stand it, Y/N. I can't stand the idea of you with someone else. You were mine."

She softened, seeing the raw emotion in his eyes. "Then why didn’t you fight for us?"

His voice cracked. "Because I thought it was what you wanted."

She sighed. "You’re an idiot."

And then, before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and hugged him. He exhaled shakily, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

"You smell like alcohol," he mumbled against her hair.

She laughed. "Yeah, we had a bit too much. I need a shower."

He smirked, watching as she grabbed some clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. He collapsed onto her bed, waiting.

When she returned, fresh and warm, she slid onto the bed beside him. He immediately pulled her into his chest.

"You were so jealous," she teased.

"Not the first time. Just the first time I showed it." He scoffed. "I don't like this side of me, that's why I never show it. To be honest I get jealous pretty easily. I don't even like it when I catch other men looking at you. But I try my best to hide it." he said looking down at her.

She grinned. "I liked it."

Vernon muttered, "I couldn’t sleep all night. That stupid video—I couldn’t stop thinking about it."

Y/N sighed. "Well, I’m tired too, because you woke me up. Let’s sleep a little longer."

He pulled her into his arms. "I love you. And I’m never letting you go again. You’re mine."

She smiled sleepy, burying her face against his chest. "I love you too."

He smirked. "Tomorrow, at the concert—try to make me find you."

She grinned. "Blow me a kiss if you do."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’d find you anywhere."

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petrichoravis · 2 months ago

Text

So professional. | s.r.

masterlist | navigation | PART TWO

summery: when the team finally has a break through in a case that seemed endless and you and Spencer are assigned to search an abandoned laboratory together, old feeling come to the surface.

word count: 7,3k (it got away from me, sorryyy)

what to expect: ex!spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, kinda like lovers to "enemies" to ??, a lot!! of banter, morgan calls r 'doll', 'princess' and 'sugar', criminal minds typical violence; torture, shooting, gunshot wound, parental/domestic abuse (abusive father/husband), hyporeflexia (the absence of reflexes), medical inaccuracies? I’m sure, English is not my first language.

a/n: aaaa this is so far out of my comfort zone!! I hope you’ll enjoy this while I’ll go into hiding🙈🙈

────── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

This case was endless until it wasn't. Until everything happened so quickly, all at once.

All of the victims had been burned to the point that the ME couldn't figure out the cause of death, until Eleven year old Amilie Porter was found on the side of the road by a passerby.

She had been cold and traumatised and wouldn't speak to anyone, so they brought her to the hospital, who alerted the police that then called you. The BAU.

Now, Spencer and JJ were crouching next to her hospital bed to seem less intimidating. Everything was going great, she wasn't speaking, but engaged in the conversation by nodding or shaking her head to their questions.

Until Amilie accidentally grabbed the mug of hot tea JJ handed her by the burning hot part, but instead of flinching she just held it there, as if it wasn't burning her fingers.

"Woah, hey hey hey!" Spencer took the cup from her before any more damage could be done. "Careful, that's still hot."

But his squeaked comment only made Amilie retreated into herself.

"Sorry, I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Did—" he frowned, he wasn't been sure how to ask her what he wanted to ask, given that she was eleven and still in shock.

"Did you not feel how hot that was?" He asked gently.

Amilie only nodded.

"Yes, you didn't feel how hot it was?"

She shook her head.

"So…you felt it, but didn't pull back?" He was trying his best not to come across as too impatient, keeping his voice low and soft.

He went on as she agreed to the question, "Let me ask you this, Amilie. Did—did the bad man do this?"

When Amilie nodded her head in answer to his question, Spencer glanced up at JJ, nodding as well. He could tell Amilie was exhausted and needed rest, his questions were probably not helping much.

He didn't blame her for being unresponsive, what happened to her must have been enough to traumatise a person with a fully developed brain. He could only calculate what damage it had done and will do to her life.

JJ's voice brought him back into the glaringly white hospital room. "Thank you, Amilie, you helped us very much. We're going to call the nice nurse back in, okay?"

She took Amilie's turning away from them as a yes and they made their way to the reception desk. After they were sure that the nurse was on her way, they walked back to the car.

"What did you see?" She asked him as they walked out of the hospital, onto the parking lot. Sirens were coming from every direction, so they had to speak a little louder.

"Wait—can you drive? I'll call the team." Spencer said, already pulling out his phone and dialling the first contact.

Which, unfortunately, was you.

"Reid? What did she say?" Your voice was usually distant, as if you were scared that letting any emotion into you voice would break the dam.

He pressed a hand over his ear to hear you better.

You see, when you and Spencer got together, you had to promise Hotch that you would stay professional when you would break up. A great prophecy for the rest of your relationship, right? Having to talk about your hypothetical breakup on the first official day of your relationship.

Both of you really tried to stay professional, but working with an ex was hard enough, working with an ex you haven't really talked it out with was harder.

"I think he might be torturing the victims until they loose their reflexes." He clamped the phone between his ear and shoulder as he unlocked the car door, holding it open for JJ, handing her the keys and getting into the passenger seat after she was securely in the car.

"Hyporeflexia? Do you—wait let me put you on speaker." There was shuffling on the other side of the phone. "You have Hotch and I. Do you know how he does it?"

"No. I have theories, but nothing concrete. There are a few ways to accomplish the absence of reflexes, drugs like K779 or Leuprorelin, for example. But I doubt he is using a drug, it would have shown up on the toxicology report and the chances of these drugs causing Hyporeflexia are too slim."

"What's your guess?" Hotch piped up.

"Well I think he might be damaging their nervous system. You see, motor neutrons send messages between the spinal cord and brain. Collectively they send messages to the rest of your body to control muscle movements. It's possible that the UnSub is damaging the sensory nerves, spinal cord or motor nerves to cause hyporeflexia." He rambled off the facts and you could practically see the wild gesturing of his hands.

"How is the girl?" You asked.

"She's quiet, but in good hands," he reassured you. "She'll be okay in no time."

"Are you on your way back?" Hotch asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes. We're driving to you now."

"Drive safely." You said, purely for performance purposes.

"I'm not driving." He replied dryly.

"That's why it was meant for JJ."

"She always drives safely." You tried not to roll your eyes as Spencer just hung up.

Being professional when the person you used to plan your future with was now your worst enemy was hard. And while you might spite him a lot, you were sad about it more than you were angry.

But anger always came easier to you than admitting to yourself and him that the break up really hurt you, that you want nothing more than to be friends if you couldn't have him as a partner. You wanted to hold him in your arms again, to fall asleep to his heartbeat every night.

You couldn't tell anyone that, of course, your pride would be in shambles.

So you took a deep breath and turned back to Hotch.

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

When Spencer and JJ got back to Quantico the team reassembled for the briefing. Everyone shared their thoughts and theories and Spencer explained what had happened at the hospital.

"Um…I know that there is a poison called curare, it's won from various plants and causes paralysis by binding to the acetylcholine receptor of the junction where two nerve cells dock together and therefore prevents nerve impulses from activating skeletal muscles. Could it be something like that?" You asked into the room.

Spencer was quiet for a moment and you're unsure whether he was impressed by your knowledge or just thinking really hard about the possibilities. "Well, we obviously can't tell because the bodies are burnt. But it's unlikely that he is using curare, given that Amilie wasn't paralysed, but developed Hyporeflexia."

Never mind, he was just thinking of a polite way to say, you're so far from the point, stupid.

"Right. So what do you think?" You almost added oh almighty! but were able to stop yourself. Because you're professional.

"As I already said," he gave you a look, "he is probably damaging the nervous system."

"Right, sorry. I meant, how is he doing that?" You had been able to sound so unfazed until this moment.

"I don't know," he frowned at you, as if his answer was obvious (you would like to state that it was not), "or I would have shared it already."

The team was nice enough not to comment on your little dispute, but it's clear that it was getting on their nerves. Especially Hotch, who was looking more stoic than usual, Morgan was finding it more amusing than anything.

"I'll get Garcia to search for similar occurrences in the area." You said quickly, already hurrying out of the room and away from the pending lecture.

Spencer watched you scurry off with a sinking feeling in his gut.

He didn't know why he bitt like a wounded dog every time the two of you spoke. He would like to think that it was because he just genuinely didn't like you anymore, but he knew that wasn't true. Hating you would be easier than this.

On the other side of the office, you ripped open door of Penelope Garcia's office and slammed it closed behind you, leaning back against it with a heavy sigh.

Penelope startled upright, turning her swivel chair to look at you with wide eyes. "Well, hello. Are you alright?"

"No," you whined dramatically. "All of this is so incredibly fucking fucked."

"Oh, love," she patted the place next to her. "He, who shall not be named again?"

You nodded, slumping into the chair. "He's just so—I just feel so…ugh. All we do is spite each other. When will this get easier?"

She looks at you with so much pity, you can't stand it. "I'm not going to tell you that it will pass with time, because, well…" She gave you a look that said nothing less than because you're quite dramatic, over the rim of her glasses.

While you huffed in response, you couldn't quite find a good argument that spoke against her unspoken statement, so your mouth stayed closed. But you didn't refrain from sending her a glare.

"What?" She asked innocently, if anything about Penelope Garcia can ever be called innocent.

You gave her a look. "Constructive criticism? Didn't we just talk about that?"

"I didn't even say anything! It's not my fault that you interpreted something into my very lovely face."

You decided that this was totally fruitless, your fault for thinking that you had a friend in her. "Can you look into past histories of people with hyporeflexia? Anything you can find. People who have been diagnosed with it in the past…let's say fifteen years, suspicious reports of it, someone being especially interested in it, maybe a lot of it happening in one area. You know the drill."

"Yep, totally, ma chère. One sec." She turned her chair towards the computer screen and began working her magic.

After what feels like three seconds—thank God for Penelope's speed on the keyboard and swift fingers—she piped up, "Hyporeflexia is quite a rare official diagnosis, so I cross referenced it with torture or unnatural causes and I found," a few more mouse clicks. "…a Theodore Wilson, who has been in and out of the hospital for severe burns and bruises a lot when he was young."

Frowning, you lean over Penelope's shoulder to look at the screen. "And that's relevant because…?"

"That, my gorgeous girl," she booped your nose with her fluffy pen and you scrunched your nose. "Is because they look suspiciously similar to our victims and…" She paused for dramatic effect. "Theodore's father was a biochemist best known for his research on Hyporeflexia."

You frown deepened. "Is his father still alive?"

A few clicks later, Penelope replied, "Nope." She popped the p. "He died last month, but Theo's mother still lives in Virginia."

"If we consider Theodore a suspect, his father's passing could have been the stressor. Thank you, Pen. Could you—"

"The address is sent to your phone." She smiled up at you as you got up and walked towards the door. "But don't think our talk about you-know-who is over!" She sing-songs just before you could leave.

You rolled your eyes. The nicknames were getting excessive.

"I can't hear you!" You called back just before closing the door behind you.

You froze when you turned and saw the team gathered in the bullpen area. "Um," you glanced at Spencer for just a millisecond to see how much he has heard, but his face seemed impassive. Looking back at your unit chief, you continued, "Penelope found a lead."

Hotch nodded for you to continue and you made your way closer to the group. Recognition flickered across Spencer's face at the name Don Wilson, but he said nothing as you continued to explain what Penelope found.

"Penelope send the address of his mother to me already." You said as you finished.

"Do you think he might be the first victim or the UnSub?" Hotch asked.

"Possibly both. That's what I'd like to find out by talking to the mother." You replied, taking the last steps towards the team.

Hotch nodded. "Morgan, you accompany her."

Great, just what you needed. Relentless teasing from Derek Morgan, fun!

The devil grinned. "Let's do this, doll."

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

You ignored Morgan the whole drive.

No, seriously, you didn't say a word to him besides giving him the directions. Of course that only stroked the fire.

When you finally did arrive at the house of Theodore's mother, you felt like you had just taught a class of first graders.

Morgan was in the middle of something like, "—come on, we're all waiting to hear what happened between you and pretty boy—" when you got out of the car and slammed the door shut. You couldn't stand to listen to even one more second of it.

But of course he just continued after exiting the car, too. "That bad, huh?"

If you didn't know any better, you might have thought there was some pity in that comment. "It's fine. And also really none of your business."

"You and Reid are kind of making it everyones business, princess."

Rolling your eyes at his statement, you sped up your steps along the gravel path. The faster you got to the door, the faster Morgan had to get into work mode and could finally stop behaving like an assho—

The door opened unexpectedly.

"Oh," an elderly woman—she must have been in her late sixties—startled back at the sight of the both of you. She had shoulder length red-brown hair that was frizzy and clearly not washed for at least two weeks. Her hands were fiddling with a button of her worn down brown cardigan.

Undoubtedly the woman you saw on the picture on Penelope's computer.

You quickly pulled out your badge, animating Morgan to do so as well. "Mrs. Wilson? We're with the FBI. My apologies if we startled you."

"The FBI?" She frowned, clutching her cardigan tightly around herself like an armour. "Why would the FBI come to my house?"

"Ma'am, we have reason to believe that your son might be involved in the case we are investigating right now." You said carefully, not knowing how much she could handle before having a heart attack.

"What? No, that—that's ridiculous! He—he…" she seemed to have forgotten what she was saying, now studying the ground for dirt.

Morgan and you glanced at each other. This was going to be difficult.

"Ma'am?" Morgan tried again. "Could we come in?"

She frowned up at him. "Yes, yes, of course. How rude of me." She made a sound that could have been a laugh as much as it could have been a sob.

"Make yourselves at home, dears. Oh, my apologies it's a little messy." She hurried across the room, gathering scraps of fabric and dirty dishes.

"Uh," you weren't sure how to say this politely, but you were in a rush and sour mood.

Luckily, Morgan saved you from having to come up with something polite. "Mrs. Wilson, we'd like to ask you some questions about your son, Theodore, if that is alright with you?"

"Oh, Theo," he fingertips touched her lips and her eyes welled up a little. It was a nostalgia only a mother could feel. "We—we don't talk a lot anymore, now that he is at university."

You frowned. There had been no evidence of Theodore being at university. "What is he studying?"

The woman seemed frozen in her thoughts. "Physics. No, that's not right…Chemistry, yes. He is studying chemistry at Princeton. He told me that."

You gave Morgan a signal to fact check that with Penelope and he left the room, leaving you to talk to Mrs. Wilson alone.

"Did he always like chemistry?"

"Yes, yes. When he was young, he always used to…no, I think that was biology." She laughed almost hysterically. "Can't keep up with that boy. So many talents."

Bingo. Biochemistry. His father's influence, no doubt. And it fit the theory of Theodore taking on his father's murderous tendencies. Just a little more and you had him.

"Was there any particular niche he was particularly interested in?"

"Yes, but…but I don't remember. You see, Don, my husband—Theo's father, he would know. He—he was the one who always went to the laboratory with Theo."

Laboratory? You froze at the mention of a possible secondary location. Double bingo, a place to hide the victims and possibly burn them. A place where his father could have taught him his ways, pass the torture down like some families might pass down jewellery.

"This lab," you asked cautiously, not wanting to come across too pushy or desperate (which you very much were). "You don't happen to know where it is?"

"Oh, it's abandoned now, run down, I'm certain. They stopped going there after Don got sick…" she couldn't finish the sentence, her eyes fogging up with grief.

You doubted that he just stopped going, but she didn't need to know that. "Is it possible that you find out where it is located?"

She nodded, mumbling something about a postcard before disappearing into another room.

Morgan came back from the hallway.

"There is no record of him at Princeton. No pay checks, nothing." He whispered to you.

That was to be expected. You just nodded.

All of this left you with a horrible, nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach. This woman had lost everything—her husband, her son, her sanity—but the hope she clung to was that her son was in university, building a life of his own, making a name for himself.

Now you were working on destroying that hope. It might ruin her entirely. Irrevocably.

She came back a second later, a postcard in her hands. "That's the address, I think." She held it out to you.

But as you went to grab it, fingers closing around it, she didn't let go, keeping a tight grip on it. Like a lifeline. Like a part of her knew, that if she let you have it, there was no going back to the normal she once knew.

"Mrs. Wilson…?" You tested carefully.

She startled. "Oh! I'm sorry." She let the paper go. "Here you go. I hope it helps with your…"

Her face creased up, thinking hard of a reason why two FBI agents could be in her house, asking for her perfect son who was studying chemistry in Princeton.

Morgan, ever the escape artist, waved politely, "You have been very helpful, Ma'am. We best be going then, have a nice day."

"Yes, yes, of course. You must be busy kids." But just as you stepped through the door, feet just hitting the gravel, she called after you. "Agents?"

Both of you turned. "Yes?" You asked politely.

"My son, when you visit him at Princeton, could—could you tell him I was sorry?"

"Of course, Ma'am." You let your voice trail off, hoping she would clarify what she was apologising for.

Mrs. Wilson leaned against the door with one hand, as if stabilising herself. "We had a fight, you see. The night before he left for Princeton. I never got to apologise to him."

You were tempted to ask what the fight was about, but you held back. It might be important for the case, but not enough to dig up the rotten bones. "Of course. We will tell him, Mrs."

"Thank you—thank you. Tell him I love him, too, would you be so kind?"

You nodded. "Of course."

Morgan and you walked away, then. Leaving the woman behind.

You didn't recall reaching the car, didn't recall Morgan unlocking it and even holding open the door for you to climb in. Too deep in the past, too caught up in the future.

The conversation with the mother affected you more than you'd like to admit. A fight could ruin so many relationships, it could make you go crazy, make you say things that caused you to drift further and further apart. Until you didn't know each other at all anymore, but you still clung to the past yous that you once were.

You only came to yourself when you felt the seat under you, when the engine started to hum.

"We had a fight." You mumbled as Morgan reversed out of the parking space.

"What?" He looked over at you shortly, confused. He couldn't recall having fought with you.

"Spencer and I. We fought. That's why we broke up."

Morgan felt a little like laughing. "You broke up because of a fight? Must have been one hell of a fight, then. The both of you were always so inseparable."

When you didn't laugh or react, Morgan glanced over at you again. You looked sad, in thought. With a big pout-slash-frown on your face, fingers fiddling with the sleeves if your button up.

"Hello? Earth to earthling?" He waved a hand in front of your face.

"Sorry." You glanced up at him. "I don't know why I brought it up, I don't like talking about it."

Bless him, Morgan's face softened a little. He wasn't heartless enough to keep teasing you when you clearly had a hard time. Well, okay, he had his moments.

"You don't have to talk about it."

"No, it's okay. We—We fought a lot, leading up to the break up. Silly things like the dishes, different opinions on different things.…The real issue was this job, though." You swallowed around the urge to bolt.

"The job?"

You nodded. "We brought it home with us, made it the centre piece of our relationship."

Morgan winced. It was the mistake every agent was afraid to make when entering a relationship.

"Yeah," you breathed out. "I know. But you know us, we work, that's just who we are."

"Workaholics." Morgan coughed to lighten the mood.

In any other situation you would have dug your elbow into his side, scowled at him. But not in this one.

"It got too much in the end. The fear, the paranoia. We just…snapped. We talked it out, funnily enough that conversation was quite calm. Though we were naive enough to think we could stay friends." You sniffed.

It surprised him, to find out you were struggling so much in the past months leading up to your break up. "You always seemed so happy at work. Everyone agreed when I said you two were meant for each other."

"Yeah, well, things that are meant for each other aren't always the right thing."

"Do you really believe that? Or are you scared that it won't work out if you tried again and you opened yourself up for nothing?" He lifted one hand from the wheel to put air quotes around the word nothing.

You glared at his side profile. "Okay, Mr. Therapist."

"What?" He looked at you again, before focusing back on the road. "I'm just saying. Reid is so far gone for you, opening up to him would never be for nothing. If you want it to work you have to work for it."

"Since when are you an expert on relationships, Derek 'has a new girl every week' Morgan." You rolled your eyes. But you couldn't deny that his words stirred something inside you.

"Okay, you're just being mean now, sugar. I'm incredibly wise." He pretended to push glasses up his nose.

That got a laugh out of you. A real, stomach ache inducing laugh. Maybe you were hysterical now, too.

Morgan smiled at that. He was glad to hear that sound again, after months filled with frown lines and sharp tones.

After you calmed down, you got back into work mode, calling the team and telling them what you had discovered. You told Penelope to check the address and she confirmed that it was an abandoned laboratory.

Now everything happened quickly. Hotch ordered you to drive to the lab and wait for the team, to be on alert for anyone entering or leaving the building, but not to—under any circumstances—enter or separate from each other.

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

Not even twenty minutes later, you and Morgan arrived at the laboratory and prepared by putting on your vests and checking your guns.

The other black SUVs lined up in front of the main entrance shortly after.

You caught Spencer's eyes as he got out of the car. He scanned you from head to toe for injuries. When he found none, the concern on his face melted away quickly enough for you to consider you had imagined it.

"No one has entered or left the front door in the time we were here." You said when the team reassembled.

Hotch nodded. "Morgan, you and Prentiss go in from behind and search the lower level. JJ, Rossi and I search the second floor."

"But that means—" Spencer started to protest but Hotch has already pointed at you.

"You and Reid, go to the upper level."

Because you were so focused on the case (totally not because you want to show Hotch you could be more professional than Spencer), you just nodded.

"Good. Let us not waste time we don't have." Hotch frowns and everyone goes their separate ways.

Spencer glanced at you and you glanced at him. This was the first time you had been alone together since the break up and you were both unsure what to do with each other.

"Is your vest secure?" Spencer asked after a short awkward pause. He took a step closer and you try your best not to flinch back. Professional, you remind yourself like a mantra.

"Yes." You retort steadily enough, but he was already reaching out to tug on the straps.

You frowned at the display of worry, but decided on letting him have his moment. Purely to save energy, of course.

"Fine, let's go up." He said as he was satisfied with your vest. Together you made your way up the stairwell onto the upper level.

As you sneaked through the eerily quiet lab, the only sound heard was the clacking of your heeled boots on the resin floor.

Spencer glared at you. "Couldn't have worn a worse shoe for this, could you?" He whispered.

"I could've hardly worn my crocks." You snapped back. "Focus."

Both of your guns were trained around the corners as you carefully assed the situation. So far there was nothing that seemed too out of the ordinary for an abandoned laboratory. Broken glass, dusty workstations, pipes…Nothing to accompany you and Spencer but silence.

Until a shot rang out. And you wince.

The bullet just barely grazed your upper arm but it was enough to make a crimson blotch bloom on your white button up.

Spencer pulled you behind a corner before you could get hurt even worse and presses his hand over your wound.

He wrapped a hand around your wrist to hold your arm still and assessed your arm. "Does it hurt badly?"

"It's fine. Focus on the UnSub." You scowled, pushing against his shoulders with your free hand. Spencer didn't budge. "Reid, I'm so serious—"

"No, I'm serious," he said your name sternly. "Answer my ques—"

Another shot rang out before he could finish repeating himself, but it thankfully didn't hit anyone.

You gave him a look that says see? I fucking told you so. and pushed him away to glance around the corner to fire some shots at the guy.

"The suspect is in the upper level." You said into the microphone. "He's wearing a black bomber. Brown hair. I can't tell much. He's armed and shooting." You listed off.

"Copy that." Answered JJ's voice back to you.

"Get," Spencer grumbled, "behind the wall."

"You almost sound worried." You grinned and taunted him by doing the direct opposite of his command, leaning further around the corner.

"That's because I am. It doesn't look great on my report if I just let you die." He bitt out, pulling you back by your wrist that he still hasn't let go of.

Unfortunately, he ended up slamming your back against the wall in the process.

You made a noise that could only be described as a grunt. "Oh, and manhandling does?"

Both of you were now pressed against the wall, with Spencer's arms caging you in so you couldn't make a run for it and do something even more reckless.

"I'll just put it down as keeping you from sabotaging the mission." He was panting, and for a moment the thought of just how attractive he was crossed your mind. Until you shook it off.

Just as you opened your mouth to taunt him some more, you ear piece crackles and Hotch's voice was heard saying yours and Spencer's names, "—what is your position?"

"We're still—fuck!" Another shot rang out before you could finish the sentence, hitting a pipe on the opposing wall and causing you to flinch. Steam hissed from the hole. Spencer shushed you and you were tempted to snap at him, but you lowered your voice instead. Staying quiet was in your best interest, to make the shooter believe you were hit and the danger passed.

"Still on the third floor. He's got us cornered." You continued quietly.

And because Spencer just couldn't leave it at that, he added into the mic, "She's hurt, we will need an ambulance when we're out of here."

Glaring, you retorted, "I'm fine, a bullet just grazed my arm."

"It's still important to get it checked out!" Spencer replied in a harsh whisper. He was really pushing your buttons now.

"We're on our way up. Try to get him into the stairwell." Is the only response you get from Hotch.

You breathe out. "Okay, let's try to get to the stairwell."

Spencer nods, gesturing for you to take the lead and finally stepped back to free you from the cage of his arms. (And the suffocating urge to kiss him.)

With your gun stretched out in front of of you, you carefully take step after step along the eerily quiet hallway.

"You go right," Spencer murmured, "I'll take the left."

"What? No—" But it was an impossible task, stopping Spencer Reid once he was set on doing something. He had already disappeared into another hallway.

"Does he learn nothing from his mistakes?" You mumbled to yourself, but do as he demanded nonetheless.

You placed one foot in front of the other with caution, rounding the corners not before listening into the silence.

Suddenly there was a noise. You didn't know if it was Spencer, your imagination or the UnSub, but all of your body was braced for battle.

Taking a deep breath, you rounded the corner. The hallway ended with a wall adorned with two doors. One lead to the stairwell, spiralling down into the second floor.

The other door was open. It looked like a lab to you, but you didn't have a good enough angle to see what was inside. The walls specked with dust and grime, mold forming in the crevices.

You caught movement in the room and walked slowly towards it. You had a half formed though to signal to Spencer through the mic, but before you could execute it, you had already entered the room.

A man stood with his back to you at one of the work stations. You took another step towards him, but your boot crushed a shard of glass under its heel. You froze.

Theodore spun around in panic, picking his gun up from the counter. "You—You should be—I shot you."

You breathed in deep to steady your voice. Theo's choice of words struck a match of hope in you. Maybe he didn't know that Spencer and the rest of the team were in the building, too. Maybe he just saw you.

"The bullet graced my arm." You confirmed, taking a step closer to him.

"Get back. Get back!" He screamed, forcing you to walk deeper into the room with his gun, so his back was to the door. "If you shoot, I'll go down pressing the trigger and you will go down, too."

His hand was shaking around the gun, he looked like he might drop it every moment. The room was dark, just a little sliver of light coming through the small window.

You watched it flicker and tried to come up with something to say, but your brain blanked on the profile.

Being a profiler had taught you a lot, but in this moment all you could focus on was that Spencer was somewhere in this building and you had no idea if he was safe.

"Theo, I know what your father did to you, how he would train you to take every hit without flinching, the burning." You said carefully.

"Don't—don't talk about my father like you know anything! Because you don't—you don't know anything!Lower you gun!" He spit out.

Just as you were trying to find a way to tell him that there was no way you would lower your gun, you saw Spencer through the doorframe behind Theo, gun pointed at him, too. You tried not to look at him as you continued.

"I won't shoot if you don't give me a reason to, Theo. I—I talked to your mother." You tried in a last desperate attempt to deescalate the situation.

That seemed to get his attention, he lowered his gun a little, before taking a step closer to you pointing it at you again. "Leave my mother out of this." He growled.

You continued anyway. "She told me that she was sorry, about your fight before you left. She is so, so proud of you, Theo. Told me to tell you that she loves you. Nothing could make her stay mad at you forever, she just wants you in her life again." You tried not to look at Spencer as you spoke the words to Theo that were really meant for him.

Tears formed in Theo's eyes. A sight that you had seen just forty minutes earlier, in his mother's. "Stop! It doesn't matter if she's proud. I lied to her! I lied."

"Of course it matters, if you put the weapon down and come back with us to the station, you could see her again. You could be her son again."

His laugh is hollow as he said, "Do you think I'm stupid? You're trying to get me to surrender. What do you called it? A talk down? Making false promises just to get me locked up. You never end up keeping them." His grip on the trigger tightened.

Another thing you learned as a profiler was not to get attached to victims or UnSubs. And while most of the team had failed at that, you had always considered yourself lucky—or heartless, for that matter.

But as you watched the pain on Theo's face, you understood. Maybe not everything he did, but you understood the cause. Understood that all of his life was set up for him to end here, in this lab, two guns pointed at him.

Behind him, Spencer nodded towards the stairs and you tried to signal to him that you didn't understand without exposing his location. He just gestured towards them again, frowning at you to just do as he said.

He took a few steps deeper into the room to clear the doorway, somehow managing not to get caught by Theo. It was a gamble he gladly took if it meant you were safe. "Theo, you don't have to do this."

Spencer's voice startled Theo and for a second you were terrified that he was going to shoot. But instead, he just turned around quickly, panicked pointing the gun at Spencer.

Your moment to run. Just to get help and come back to him. You sprinted out of the room, past Theo and Spencer. Theo shouted "No!" but it was too late, you were already half down the stairs.

You silently begged Spencer to hold on for a little longer. But just as you practically jumped of the last step in a hurry, you heard a gunshot.

Freezing on the bottom of the steps for the fraction of a second, you tried not to panic, but just as you turned to sprint back up the stairs, an arm wrapped around your middle, the other covering your mouth.

"Shh," came Rossi's voice from behind you. You struggled as he dragged you out of the building.

Fresh air hit your face as you were forced to exit, but all you could think about was the fact that Spencer's dead body might be lying on the third level of an abandoned laboratory.

You tried to pull back from him but he wouldn't let you. "No—Spencer. Spence is still—Spencer!" You struggled against his grip.

"You can't go back in there—" Rossi said your name. "The kid is smart, you know that. He—"

Before he could finish, there was another gunshot, this one closer. You almost sank to your knees as everyone around you prepared to take down the UnSub.

And were rebuild when Spencer emerged from the building a few seconds later, hands raised, "Don't shoot, he is injured, but breathing." He gestured behind him somewhere.

Rossi finally let you go when Spencer was far enough away from danger.

Not wasting a minute, you ran towards Spencer, almost crashing into him in the process.

Emily, JJ and an EMT passed you in a blur as they went into the laboratory to secure Theo. You barely registered them.

"What happened?" You didn't know whether to push him or to kiss him. You opted for the first, pushing against his shoulders. "Why would you tell me to leave? I—We had it handled. Together. I—I—You fucking scared me."

Spencer just pulled you to him by your good arm and wrapped you in a tight embrace. He didn't say anything for a while, just letting you process your feelings.

The fear of loosing Spencer for good, the pain of the break up, the conflicting feelings of having to work with your ex (that you're still very much in love with). You clung to him as your emotions overtake you. And, fuck, your arm hurt!

"Shh, it's okay. I'm okay. Here—" he pulled back with some difficulty, given that you had quite a firm grip on him, and took your hand in his, placing it on the side of his neck. "Can you feel that? I'm okay."

You nodded. "You're okay." You breathed out, looking from your hand on his pulse point, to his eyes. "Why would you do that?" Tears pricked at your eyes.

"I didn't think rationally. All I could think about was that there was a gun pointed at you and all my brain would come up with was stupid ideas to make him point it at me. Please forgive me."

He looked at you with his big, sad, brown puppy eyes, while his thumb brushed softly against the skin under your eye to catch your tears before they could fall.

You would have said something flirty like, you might have to make it up to me some more, if you weren't so terribly mad at him. "Maybe. I can't promise anything."

He smiled softly despite your answer. Maybe even because of it. It was a silly thought, you not forgiving him. "I can work with maybe."

An EMT whisked you away shortly after, but Spencer's hand stayed in yours until they slipped apart and his arm fell to his side.

He wasn't sure if he could just follow, he stayed away and watched you get checked out by the EMTs.

All of it—the story of you and him—reminded him of Cassandra witnessing the fall of Troy. It was stupid to compare two people who were so insignificant to history to two of histories most known tragedies, but it fit like he still did into the palm of your hand.

He had known that he would never be able to get over you. No one had believed him, telling him that time heals all wounds and that he couldn’t see the bigger picture yet, because he was still in it.

But he had known, and it still rang true. You were it for him and he would never find anyone that made him feel more like himself. It was foolish to think he could survive the break up, foolish to think he would get over it.

Hell, he had taken being on the receiving end of your spite over being your friend because it meant you'd look at him and feel something.

Taking all of his courage together, Spencer decided to approach you after the EMT finished patching you up.

"Hey," he said gently. This was the first time you talked without snarling at each other outside of work since the break up and it felt like finally breathing fresh air again after living purely off of carbon dioxide. "Doing good? How is your arm?"

You looked up at him from the steps on the back of the ambulance. You looked rough, exhausted. The sleeves of your shirt were rolled up to allow the EMT to bandage your wound.

It felt different now, talking to you. The moment of adrenaline had passed and he had no idea how to talk to you. The times of snarling seemed to be over, but the ones of kissing and I love you's were long gone, too.

"I'm okay. All patched up. I don't think I will ever take my reflexes for granted ever again." You tried to smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. "How are you?"

He wanted to deflect, to twist it back to you, but he humoured you. "Exhausted, but I'm good. I'm just glad you're safe."

What he actually wanted to say was: I love you, I'm glad you're speaking to me again. Let's never split up again. Please. And: I miss you, I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like everyone is running laps around me for the first time in my life.

Of course, he said none of it, this wasn't the time to dig that hole. Instead he just looked at you.

The blue of the sirens flickered on your face and even though you looked exhausted, he could't help but think you were the most beautiful thing Mother Earth has sculpted. The Grand Canyon was nothing in comparison to the frown lines on your face, the stars nothing compared to your freckles and birthmarks.

You looked back at him then, but thankfully didn't question the look on his face that without a doubt read, I love you.

Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder in a silent, I love you, too.

There was so much to talk about, so much to tell him, but when he insisted on taking you home, because he wouldn't let you drive home alone after the events of today, all you cared about was that he was there again. Fully. Without snapping, without pretend hate. Just the old you and the old him again.

You fell into your bed that night, the glaring blue light of your digital clock telling you that it was 3am. Earlier than a lot of other late nights at the BAU.

Spencer didn't hesitate to take off your work clothes, didn't ask where your pyjamas were, didn't stop to think what this all meant for you now. He didn't need to, all of this was an Obvious.

You didn't tell him to lay down next to you, to climb under the covers and flip the light off, to let you rest your head on his chest. He just did all of it. Because it was a routine, the known in all the unknown that was your relationship now. A Constant.

In the morning, you would talk about it. While he was changing your bandage with careful fingers. But right now, the sound of Spencer's heart beating your name lulled you to sleep.

In the end, fear and worry had been the best matchmakers.

──────────── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

PART TWO

thank you so much for reading! please remember reblogging, commenting and liking if you enjoyed the fic. feedback is appreciated!! 𝜗𝜚

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4linos · 1 month ago

Text

the ghost of what was.

bang chan x fem!reader

synopsis: a relationship ends not with a fight, but with a quiet, devastating sentence. chan walks away without explanation, leaving behind confusion, silence, and heartbreak.

warnings: angst, emotional heartbreak/breakup, mutual pining, love triangle (but not really), unrequited love.

wc: 4268

You never thought it would end like that, with no storm, no explosion, not even the slow erosion of time. Just a conversation that came out of nowhere, the kind that shifts the ground beneath your feet in a way that’s almost too subtle to notice until you’re already falling.

Chan sat across from you on the edge of the bed, his shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact. But the look in his eyes wasn’t cruel, or angry. It was… tired. Resigned. You remember staring at him, waiting for the punchline because surely this wasn’t real. Not him. Not you.

He didn’t cry. You did.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he said, and the words felt like they were rehearsed, like he’d said them to himself in the mirror over and over until they sounded detached enough to pass for truth.

You didn’t believe it. Not really. Because just a week before, he’d been tracing constellations on your back with his fingertips, whispering sleepy little nothings about your future. He’d kissed your forehead with the kind of tenderness that only comes from certainty. He talked about names for the kids you'd maybe have one day, about places you still wanted to go, about which of you would go gray first.

And now he was saying it was over.

No explanation. No confession. Just vague words that didn’t match the way he used to look at you, like you were the safest place he’d ever known.

You didn’t ask questions at first. You didn’t have the strength. But you stayed up that night, alone in a home that suddenly felt foreign, staring at the ceiling and playing every moment of your relationship backwards in your head, trying to find the part where it all went wrong. You didn’t find it. Because it wasn’t there.

That was the worst part.

It wasn’t a bad relationship. It was perfect. Not in some storybook sense, but in the quiet, stable way that mattered. You talked through your arguments. You knew how to calm each other down. You had little rituals, the way you always kissed twice before he left the room, how he made you coffee in the morning even though he didn’t drink it himself. It was real. It was solid.

So how could it just… vanish?

After the breakup, the days bled into each other.

You stopped measuring time in weeks or hours and instead in how long you could go without crying, without thinking about him, without reaching for your phone and remembering he wasn’t going to text. You told yourself to be strong. You told yourself if you could just hold out, if you could get through the silence, he’d come back with a real reason. Something you could fight for. Something that made sense.

But all you got was quiet.

And then, one day, Hyunjin showed up at your door.

You weren’t surprised, not really. He and Chan were close, part of the same tightly wound fabric of people who had always been around each other, who blurred the line between friends and family. You’d known Hyunjin almost as long as you’d known Chan. He had always been the light to Chan’s quiet warmth, brighter, more expressive, a little unpredictable in the way artists always are. You liked him. Trusted him. And that familiarity is probably why you let him in.

At first, it was casual.

He brought you soup. A coffee. A playlist you never asked for. He didn’t pry, and for that, you were grateful. He didn’t talk about Chan, not at first just offered a quiet presence when everything else felt like it was closing in. He made you laugh when your chest still felt too tight to breathe, and for a moment you thought maybe he was just being a good friend. Someone filling the space Chan had left behind.

But then, little things began to shift.

He texted more. He stayed longer. Sometimes he would just… linger. Watching you. You tried not to notice the way his fingers brushed yours when he handed you a cup of tea. The way he smiled a little softer than he used to. The way he looked at you, not like someone who was checking in, but like someone who was waiting. Hoping.

You told yourself you were imagining it.

That maybe you were just sensitive, raw from the breakup, reading too much into kindness because it had become so rare. But deep down, part of you already knew. Part of you had always known.

There was a moment that tipped it. A small, quiet evening, rain on the windows, a movie playing that neither of you were really watching. You had made some offhand comment about how Chan used to quote that exact line, and the silence that followed felt heavy in the room, as if your words had shifted the air. You glanced over, and Hyunjin was staring at you. Not upset. Not annoyed. Just aching. Like hearing his name in your mouth still hurt.

And then, a few days later, he confessed.

He came over late, like he’d done a dozen times before, but there was something different in the way he sat, nervous, hands clenched, gaze flicking between you and the floor. You offered him tea. He declined.

Then, quietly, without buildup, he said, “I need to tell you something.”

You felt the stillness that followed, the way your heart skipped, not out of excitement, but dread. You already knew. Even before he said it.

“I’m in love with you.”

The words were simple. They didn’t crash into the room or burst out in desperation. They were soft. Careful. Like he didn’t want to scare you.

“I have been,” he added, his voice trembling just slightly. “For a long time. Before the breakup. Before you even noticed.”

You didn’t say anything at first.

Because all you could hear in your head was Chan must’ve known.

You could see it now, the dots connecting. The strange way Chan pulled away toward the end. The sudden coldness. The vague excuses. He must’ve known. And if he knew, and still walked away, this was why. He’d left to spare someone else. Or maybe, to spare himself from watching it happen anyway.

You stared at Hyunjin, heart thudding, the weight of too many emotions crashing down at once, shock, betrayal, confusion, guilt. But the loudest thing in the room wasn’t his confession.

It was your answer.

“No.”

It came out before you could think. Before you could soften it. Before you could pretend you needed time to think about it.

“No,” you repeated, quieter this time. “I can’t.”

His face fell, just slightly. Like he’d expected it but hoped he was wrong.

“I’m not angry,” you said, your voice low, barely steady. “I’m not blaming you. But I’m still in love with Chan. I didn’t move on. I haven’t even started.”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t push. He just nodded, swallowing whatever heartbreak was blooming behind his eyes. And maybe, in that moment, you both understood that this wasn’t just bad timing, it was impossible timing. Because you weren’t just rejecting him, you were rejecting the very idea that love could simply transfer from one person to another like nothing had been lost.

You were still tangled up in the ghost of a relationship that never got to die properly.

Hyunjin left that night without saying much else, and you haven’t seen him since. But you think about that conversation more than you want to admit. Not because you regret saying no, but because part of you resents that the whole thing ever happened. That your heartbreak became an opportunity for someone else. That instead of answers, you were handed more questions, more silence.

And Chan… he still hasn’t come back.

Not physically. Not in words.

But he lingers everywhere, in the songs you can’t skip, in the way you always sleep facing the same side of the bed, in the ache that shows up at 2 AM when your guard is down and your chest is hollow.

You're still trying to understand it. Still trying to forgive him for walking away without giving you the truth. But some nights, when the world is too quiet and your head won’t stop spinning, you wonder if the truth was never his to say.

Maybe it was Hyunjin’s all along.

And maybe that’s what hurts most of all.

- flashback -

It was late, so late that the hallways of the building were quiet, the kind of stillness that only existed after the world had gone to sleep. Chan was exhausted. His shoulders ached from sitting in the studio too long, hunched over mixes he couldn’t seem to finish. But he didn’t want to go home yet. Home meant you. Meant facing the soft warmth of your smile, your sleepy voice asking if he’d eaten, your arms pulling him into bed like he belonged there.

And the truth was… he didn’t feel like he deserved any of it.

He wandered through the halls, earbuds in, music turned down low. That’s when he heard it, voices, two of them, coming from behind the partially open door to the smaller studio room.

Minho and Hyunjin.

He wasn’t trying to listen. He was about to keep walking, give them privacy, not eavesdrop on whatever venting session was happening. But then he heard Y/N.

And he stopped.

Hyunjin’s voice was quieter than usual, subdued, like it was heavy with something that had been sitting in his chest for far too long.

“I can’t keep pretending anymore, hyung. Every time I see them together, it’s like I’m being stabbed in the same place, over and over.”

There was a pause. Minho didn’t interrupt, he just let him speak. Chan’s feet stayed frozen to the floor, his whole body going cold.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. But I love her. I’ve loved her for a while now. And I know it’s wrong. I know I don’t have the right. But I can’t turn it off.”

Chan couldn’t breathe.

Hyunjin’s voice broke around the edges.

“She makes him so happy. And that’s the worst part. I feel like the villain. Like I’m waiting for something I’m not supposed to want.”

Chan’s stomach twisted so hard he thought he might be sick. He backed away from the door like it had burned him, heart thudding in his ears.

He walked back to the studio in a daze, hands shaking, every breath ragged with something too complicated to name. Betrayal? No. Not quite. Hyunjin hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t tried to take you. He hadn’t even told you. But the weight of those words, of knowing that one of the people closest to him was in love with the person he loved most in the world, crushed him.

At first, he told himself it didn’t matter.

You loved him. You chose him. Everything you and Chan had built together was real. Solid. Safe. He told himself to focus on that, to hold onto it. But the thought kept creeping back in, the idea that Hyunjin was quietly hurting every time he saw you together. That behind every smile, every joke, there was a fracture. A wound.

Chan carried that with him for days, then weeks. It festered in the quiet moments. When you kissed him and told him you loved him, a voice in his head whispered, Hyunjin would give anything for this. When you talked about the future, he imagined Hyunjin hearing it, watching it happen from a distance, bleeding in silence.

He tried to shake it off. But the guilt sank deeper than he expected.

And then came the self-doubt.

What if Hyunjin was better for you? What if Chan, with his sleepless nights and constant pressure and insecurities he could never quite silence, wasn’t the right choice after all? What if you were only with him because he got there first?

He didn’t know when exactly it shifted from guilt to resolve, but one night, alone in the studio, a beat looping endlessly in the background, he made the decision.

He would let you go.

He would break your heart so Hyunjin wouldn’t have to keep breaking his own. He would lie to you. Pretend it had been fading for him. That you’d outgrown each other. That it wasn’t love anymore. Because as long as he told you something final, something sharp, you wouldn’t question it. You wouldn’t wait for him. You’d move on.

And maybe, maybe, Hyunjin would finally let himself try.

It was the hardest thing Chan had ever done.

When he sat you down and told you it was over, everything inside him screamed to take it back. To pull you into his arms and tell you none of it was true. That he still wanted all of it, the house, the wedding, the kids, the future. You. But he didn’t. He made his voice flat. He didn’t look you in the eye. He played the role. He became the bad guy in his own story, because someone had to be.

And then he left.

He didn’t know how he made it out of the building. How he made it to the dorm. How he didn’t break down in the hallway. But he remembers one thing clearly: the moment the door closed behind him, he dropped to the floor and cried like he hadn’t since he was a kid.

And ever since then, he’s lived in that silence.

He hasn’t spoken to you. He hasn’t told Hyunjin what he heard. He hasn’t told anyone.

Because if he did… it would make it real. It would unravel everything.

And maybe, deep down, he knows that someday the truth will come out.

But he also knows it won’t fix what he broke. Because when you walked into his life, you became his home, and he’s the one who burned it down.

Chan had always thought he was good at pretending.

It came with the job, smiling when he was tired, joking when he felt like breaking down, carrying the weight of other people’s expectations without letting his knees buckle. And for the most part, he could manage it. He could look into a camera, sit through interviews, perform like nothing inside him was unraveling. But after the breakup, something changed.

It wasn’t the pain, he expected that. What surprised him was the heaviness.

It sat in his chest like a stone. Not sharp, not unbearable, but constant. Like an ache you forget how to live without. He would wake up, go to schedules, check in with the guys, show up to the studio like always. But everything felt slower. Duller. Muted. Like he was watching life happen from the wrong side of the glass.

The dorm was quiet more often now. Or maybe he was. He barely left his room unless he had to. Hyunjin had stopped looking at him so directly. Members stopped asking questions. Everyone could tell something wasn’t right, but no one pressed. Chan was too good at shutting doors without slamming them.

Still, the nights were the worst.

That was when the silence got loud. When the guilt and the grief curled around him in the dark, whispering all the things he didn’t let himself say in the daylight. He missed you so much it physically hurt. He missed your voice, your hands in his hair, the way you used to hum under your breath when you were focused. The little things. The things no one else saw. The life you’d quietly built around each other, piece by piece, until it felt like home.

And he’d burned it down.

He told himself he did the right thing. That he left to protect you. To give Hyunjin space to breathe, to feel, to maybe try. But it didn’t bring him peace. All it did was leave him alone with the knowledge that he’d given up the one thing he truly wanted.

You.

He hadn’t seen you in almost a month.

And even though he told himself not to check your social media, he did. Of course he did. He scrolled through old photos, read old texts, listened to voice messages until they felt like echoes in his head. But you hadn’t posted much. You’d gone quiet too. And part of him hated that because it meant you were hurting, and he couldn’t fix it.

He had no right to fix it.

But that night, that night was unbearable.

He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t think. The weight in his chest was suffocating, pressing down until he could barely breathe. His fingers trembled as he gripped his phone, staring at your contact name for what felt like the hundredth time that week. He nearly called. Nearly texted. But what could he say?

I lied to you. I still love you. I never stopped.

Instead, he jumped out of bed, barefoot, hoodie half-zipped, phone in hand. He didn’t think. Just moved.

He was halfway to the front door of the dorm, chest heaving, heart pounding like it was trying to force its way out of him, when he froze.

You were standing there.

Your hand was raised, just about to knock, but you paused when you saw him. And for a moment just a breathless, suspended second, you both stared at each other, as if neither of you could believe the other was real.

You looked tired. Pale. Worn down in that specific, quiet way that only heartbreak leaves behind. Your eyes were red, like you’d been crying. Maybe for a while.

And then you broke.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. You just dropped your hand, stepped forward, and wrapped your arms around him with a kind of desperation that shattered every wall he’d built over the last four weeks. Your face buried in his chest, your shoulders shaking, your sobs muffled by the hoodie he didn’t even remember putting on.

And Chan, Chan, he didn’t hesitate.

He pulled you into him like his life depended on it, like he needed to hold you just to stay standing. His arms locked around your back, one hand cradling your head like he was afraid you might disappear again. He felt your tears soaking through the fabric, felt your fingers twist into the material like you were trying to anchor yourself to him.

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. His throat burned. His eyes stung. He held you tighter.

He hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed to feel you again, how empty he’d become without you. You weren’t just someone he missed. You were someone he ached for. Someone who lived in every part of him, even the ones he tried to close off.

And you were here.

He didn’t know how long you stayed like that, wrapped in each other at the threshold of the dorm, hearts racing, breaths shaking. The world didn’t exist in that moment. Just you. Just him. And the relief, the overwhelming relief of finally touching the person he never wanted to let go of in the first place.

When you finally looked up at him, eyes swollen, voice raw, you whispered, “Why did you leave?”

And he broke again.

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Just the guilt. The regret. The love. All of it written across his face, pouring from his eyes. You didn’t need him to say it. Not yet.

Chan didn’t let go of you, not even for a second as he gently pulled you inside the dorm, quietly shutting the door behind you. His arm stayed wrapped around your waist, like he was afraid you’d vanish again if there was even a moment of space between you.

Neither of you said anything as he led you down the hall to his room.The dorm was hushed and dark, lit only by the soft glow from the streetlights outside the windows. It felt strange to be here again, after nearly over a month away. But being beside him… it felt like breathing after drowning.

His door clicked shut behind you, and only then did his grip loosen, just enough to guide you to sit down on the edge of his bed. But you didn’t sit. You stayed glued to him, your arms still around his torso, face still buried in the fabric of his hoodie. His scent, faint cologne and warmth hit you like a wave, and your chest ached all over again. You never thought you’d be here again, holding him like this.

“I wanna see your face,” he said quietly, brushing his fingers gently through your hair.

You shook your head without lifting it. “I probably look disgusting. I’ve been crying since… I don’t even know when.”

A soft laugh escaped him. Tired. Breathless. Real.

And something about the sound, that warm, familiar laugh that you hadn’t heard in weeks broke through the wall of shame and sadness wrapped around you. You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes still puffy, nose a little red, and gave him a half-hearted smack on the chest.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you whispered, but your lips were twitching like they wanted to smile.

“There you are,” he said softly, cupping your cheek. “God, I missed your face.”

Your throat tightened, and your smile faded. He saw it. Felt the shift. And his hand moved from your cheek to hold yours, threading your fingers together with a kind of reverence that made your chest ache.

And then… the silence shifted.

You could feel it before he spoke. The heaviness in his breath. The way he didn’t meet your eyes right away.

“I owe you an explanation,” he murmured. “A real one. Not that… bullshit I gave you before.”

You nodded slowly, your voice barely audible. “I needed one.”

He let out a shaky exhale. “I know.”

There was a long pause, like he was trying to find the right way to say something that could never be said right. But eventually, he just let it out.

“I overheard Hyunjin… telling Minho that he was in love with you.”

The words landed like a slow, sinking weight in the pit of your stomach.

“I wasn’t supposed to hear it,” he continued. “It was late. I was walking past one of the practice rooms. The door was cracked open. And then… I heard your name.”

You felt your heart pounding in your ears.

“He said he didn’t want to feel that way. That he hated himself for it. But he said he loved you. And I—I couldn’t un-hear it. I tried to pretend like it didn’t matter, like it didn’t change anything, but…”

“But it did,” you whispered.

Chan nodded, his jaw tight. “Yeah. It did. I started seeing it everywhere after that. The way he looked at you. The way he lingered. I don't even think he realized it half the time. And I hated it, hated that it made me doubt everything we had.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing against your knuckles.

“I thought… maybe he was better for you. I mean, I’m always busy. I’m tired all the time. I get stuck in my own head. You deserve someone who can give you everything without the weight. Someone who doesn’t drag you through their own mess.”

You stared at him, stunned. “Chan…”

“I didn’t break up with you because I stopped loving you,” he said, finally meeting your eyes. “I left because I thought I was protecting you. From tension between the three of us. From the guilt. From seeing Hyunjin hurting every time we were in the same room.”

Your breath caught. “You gave me up for him?”

“I gave you up for both of you,” he admitted, voice cracking. “I thought it was the selfless thing to do. I thought… I thought I could live with it, if it meant you could be happy.”

You were quiet for a long moment. The room felt impossibly still.

Then, slowly, you whispered, “I didn’t want anyone else.”

Chan closed his eyes, like the words hurt. “I know. And I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I just ended up hurting you. And myself. And probably him too.”

You reached up, touching his face gently. “You idiot.”

He opened his eyes again, surprised.

“You’re my person, Chan. I didn’t want better. I wanted you. I waited every day, thinking maybe you’d come back. Wondering what I did wrong. And the whole time, you were just… what? Sacrificing us for something I never even wanted?”

His voice cracked as he whispered, “I know. I know. I messed up. I should’ve talked to you. I should’ve trusted you with the truth instead of making the choice for you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, they weren’t born of heartbreak. This time, they came from the overwhelming relief of finally being seen, being heard, being held by the person who had never really stopped loving you.

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his.

“I never stopped loving you,” you whispered.

“I never even tried to,” he whispered back.

He pulled you into him again, this time slower, gentler, like he was holding something sacred. His arms wrapped around you, and your fingers curled into his hoodie again, your face pressed to his chest. And you stayed there, for a long time. Quiet. Close. Healing, slowly, in the shared silence of two people who had been broken apart, only to find each other again in the wreckage.

And for the first time in weeks, Chan’s chest didn’t feel heavy.

It felt whole.

masterlist.

❌proofread

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neferaskingdom · 3 days ago

Text

♡ Downward Spiral | LN4

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: It's been weeks since the breakup, and they're both on a downward spiral. It's getting so bad that now their friends have to intervene. Guess it's time for project "Save Dumb and Dumber"

A/N: This is part of my Playlist Roulette series, where I shuffle my playlists and write a story inspired by the first song that pops up. This is Part 2 of the story inspired by the song Too Precious by Em Beihold.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

It was weird, the things you miss. Like the sound of his laugh echoing off the kitchen tiles. The way he’d talk to himself when he thought no one was listening. Or how his hand would always find hers without even looking.

She didn’t talk about him. Not to anyone. But some days, he was all she thought about.

And it wasn’t like she missed everything. The loud nights, the arguments that started small and spiraled into something ugly. But there were moments. The soft ones. Mornings in bed when everything felt still. His thumb brushing her cheek. His voice, quiet and raspy.

Some days she did fine. Went to work. Came home. Read books. Answered texts. It was almost like she was normal.

But some nights, the weight of missing him made her feel like her ribs were collapsing inward. She’d cry quietly in the shower, wiping her face before facing anyone. She avoided their usual haunts, blocked half his friend group on Instagram, and stopped listening to music altogether.

It all reminded her of him.

Meanwhile, Lando was coming undone in louder ways.

He went out every night. Ibiza, Monaco, wherever the afterparty was. Girls draped over his arm, drinks in both hands. He laughed too hard. Said yes to everything. He burned through days and nights without blinking, too high or too drunk to care if he was crashing.

He didn’t really notice how fast it got out of control until he woke up in someone else’s bed and couldn’t remember her name.

The parties helped. So did the girls, for a while. But nothing stuck. Nothing felt like her.

Max pulled the joint out of his hand. "Mate. You look like shit."

"Thanks," Lando muttered.

"I mean it. This isn’t you."

Lando snorted. "Don’t act like you know me."

Max didn’t rise to it. "No one knows you anymore. Not since she left."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Lando stood and grabbed another drink. He didn’t answer.

The sadness came in waves. Some days she was fine. Other days, she’d see something small — a hoodie he left behind, a stupid meme he would’ve sent her — and it knocked the breath out of her.

He was still everywhere and it was getting harder to pretend she was okay.

"You’ve gotta snap out of it," Layla said, sitting on the edge of her bed. "You can’t keep rotting in here."

"I’m not rotting."

"You’re literally lying in the same hoodie you’ve worn for four days. You barely eat. You barely talk. You’re spiraling, babe."

She didn’t answer. Because it was true.

She stopped going to brunch with her friends, stopped answering FaceTime calls. Every little reminder of him chipped away at her—his mug in her cupboard, the perfume he said he liked on her, a half-used bottle of hair gel in her bathroom drawer.

She was unraveling. Some days she didn’t brush her hair until noon. Her appetite vanished. Her eyes looked duller. Even her laugh had a hollow edge.

He was getting mean.

Short with his engineers. Cold with his friends. His trainer, Will, had stopped trying to get him up for workouts after Lando told him to "piss off" for the third time in a row.

It was like something in him had cracked — and everything that came out now was bitter and sharp and empty.

She’d stopped pretending she was okay.

The tears came easier now — over empty coffee mugs, over old songs on the radio, over the sweater that still smelled like him even after three washes.

Her best friend, Layla, didn’t push her to go out anymore. Didn’t force pep talks against her will and just showed up with food and tissues and sat beside her while she broke down.

"He didn’t even fight for us," she whispered one night, eyes red, throat raw. "He just let it happen."

Layla ran a hand down her back. "You both did. That’s why it’s so sad."

She nodded, curling tighter on the couch.

Some days were worse than others. On the worst ones, she barely left her room. She’d reread old texts and convince herself that maybe it was all an act. That never cared at all.

Max shoved the door open. The flat reeked of stale weed and whatever had spilled on the carpet.

Lando was passed out on the couch. Again.

"This is getting out of hand," Max muttered.

Pietra crossed her arms. "No. It’s already out of hand."

Lando stirred and blinked up at them, groggy. "You guys have the keys to my place now?"

"We’ve always had the keys," Pietra snapped. "Because we don’t trust you not to OD in here."

Lando laughed. It was dry and lifeless. "I’m not that bad."

"Trust me, mate you don't even know what you are anymore," Max said.

"I’m not going," she said, arms crossed.

Layla didn’t blink. "It’s my birthday."

"So?"

"So you owe me. Remember who held your hair while you sobbed over The Notebook and tequila?"

"That was one time."

"You broke my Dyson. That vacuum cost money, bitch."

She blinked. "You’re emotionally blackmailing me."

"Damn right I am”

“I thought you were going for high tea for your birthday? Why did you suddenly change it to Jimmy’s? I thought you hated that place!”

“Hate is a strong word. Also, it’s my birthday and I want to party for once. You better be there or else I’m telling your mom about the broken vase.”

“For fucks sake no need to blackmail me!” She said exasperated, “I’ll go”

Taglist: @sltwins @verogonewild @anunstablefangirl

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mywritersmind · 7 months ago

Note

Can you write some fake dating with lando pretty please🥹

HATE ME - LN4

listen up : no warnings!! hope you enjoy bc i got stuck on this so bad😘 lando x popstar!reader

word count : 1886

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Y/n!” A reporter yells at me as I walk up the paddock, “Y/n! What are you doing?”

I slow down and laugh a bit, “Looking for my boyfriend!”

“What’s your thoughts with him coming off a win, think he can swing it?” I roll my eyes playfully.

“I certainly think he can! America has been great to him before.” They laugh, knowing I'm not just talking about his win but also myself.

“How about your upcoming album!?” A woman asks, my mood already improving, “Any details you can share?”

I’m about to respond when I feel arms wrap around my waist, “Hi pretty.” He says in my ear but just loud enough to be heard.

I smile and brush my hand against his arm, “Lan!”

He looks up at the reporters, pointing to them, “You lot back off! She’s my good luck charm this weekend!”

We walk away, I glance up to Lando’s face to see him smiling. I can’t help but be surprised for the millionth time, he’s a damn good actor.

The second we get inside, doors shut and nobody around, Lando drops his hands off me. “Hi Pretty.” I mock his accent as he rolls his eyes.

My fake boyfriend strides across the room, grabbing his water bottle. He's in a Mclaren shirt and jeans, his curls perfect and defined.

“You really need to stop swerving my lips when we’re in public.” I plop down on the couch and try to tune him out, it doesn’t work. “People are starting to notice.”

I text my manager back as he complains, “I’ve never shown any PDA with my ex’s. You’re not special, Norris.”

I ignore the way his bicep moves when he pushes off the couch, “Well I have.”

“You don’t think regular couples settle on my side for this? I didn’t think you were thirsting for me that much.”

He scoffs and I know I got him there, “I’m just saying! It’s not normal.”

“Of course you’d think that, all you and your ex’s did was make out in public!” His manager walks in just then before he can respond.

Point, Y/n.

“Will you two keep it down?” He groans, “Just because you argue like an old married couple, doesn’t mean it fits your roles! Lando, it’s media time.”

“Talk about me.” I mumble as he walks out.

“Can I announce our breakup?” He eyes me before shutting the door. I breathe out, just trying to get through this weekend.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

P1 in qualifying, great. I act all happy and actually kiss him this time. I don’t agree with the majority of what he says but even my manager told me I need to do a tiny bit more.

Lando and I’s… agreement, is complicated and completely necessary for our careers. I’m rising to fame and he’s falling in the dumps with all his media scares.

After a mini scandal broke about me, Lando and I met. We were drunk and totally out of depth. He told the paparazzi outside the bar that we were dating and I had kissed him like I believed it.

Everything went up in flames but through the fire our teams decided to come up with this whole fake dating thing. I make him look good, the unproblematic, pretty, popstar. He added an edge to me and brought quite a few new fans.

But most of all, after his lie to the public was splashed over every media surface, the picture of my lips against his, I couldn’t just back out. He would have looked like a player (because he was one) and I would have been labeled a slut.

So now i’m at the paddock every weekend, planning my own shows and sporting him in the crowd. My fans eat it up though, he’s hot, rich and british.

Lando doesn’t listen to his brain before his mouth opens and once when someone asked what he thought about my performance he replied with, “She’s insane and beautiful and way too talented to be my girlfriend.” That sealed it for everyone.

He kisses my cheek, winking. He’s not all bad, even though I can’t really stand him it’s not like he’s disrespectful or rude to me.

Lando gets pulled away for media and I find myself watching his interview with Alexandra, Charles’ girlfriend. We’re not watching our ‘boyfriends’ at all, gossiping about the celebrities that are coming this weekend.

⋆｡˚⋆

LANDOS POV

The reporter is saying things but I’m distracted. My eyes keep wandering past the man in front of me and going to my ‘girlfriend’.

She’s talking to Alex, flipping his hair over her shoulder and grinning. She never smiles like that with me.

I answer another question but it’s half assed and I don’t really care. I watch her jaw move as she talks, how she jumps up and down when she’s talking about something she loves, she crosses her ankles and pinches the bridge of her nose.

I’m suddenly feeling very left out of the conversation and don’t realize the reporter is repeating my name, “Lando?” I rip my eyes away from her a he looks to what I was looking at.

He’s smiling when he turns back to me, “Distracted… Sorry.” I scratch the back of my back, looking down and smiling as the man laughs.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/NS POV

What is he playing at? I’ve been tagged in a million clips of Lando’s interview. The way he looked at me- fuck! He’s so confusing I hate him.

This weekend has felt forever long and it’s not even over. Lando and I go to a little house party, weird for the day before a race but none of the guys seem bothered by it.

In fact, everyone’s having fun. It’s like watching impending doom, knowing they’re all about to mess with each other on the track.

Lando obviously isn’t drinking and since he’s driving, I down a glass with Alex and Lily as soon as I step in the door.

Someone has rented an airbnb and it’s gorgeous. Not too big, but a nice fire in the back and a huge living room.

“I’m gonna go talk to Carlos.” Lando’s hand drifts off me as he walks away. I barely even realized his touch, I'm getting too comfortable with it.

“Girl!” Rebecca, Carlos’ girlfriend, says to me, “I’ve never seen Lando this in love!” The only people who know Lando and I aren’t actually together is Alex, Lily, Alexandra, possibly Charles, Oscar, and Carlos.

Lily and Alex sip their drinks beside me as I blink, pausing for too long. I laugh and smile, “You’re sweet.”

“I’m serious!” She continues, “Those eyes, it’s unmistakable!” Something about it makes me sad. Because Lando doesn’t actually like me at all? Or because whenever I get a glimpse of that look, it’s always in public?

Lily changes the subject with remarkable speed, Alex hands me another drink and I sigh a thank you.

The night goes on, it’s slow and nice to have a simple sort of get together instead of how Lando likes to party.

Speaking of, my fake boyfriend dances up to me as I laugh out of embarrassment, he takes my hand and pulls me outside. I look back to Alexandra who just shrugs and watches me leave.

I smile at Lily who’s sitting on Alex’s lap. I sit next to Lando around the fire, I'm getting tired and a bit tipsy. I rest my head on his shoulder as everyone talks.

I can’t think about why he brought me over here. It’s not like I’m contributing to the conversation in a big way.

“What!? Lily was my idol before I got into F1!” I agree with her, she claims I didn’t like her but I was following her for months!

“You were so intimidating!” She shakes her head.

“You are intimidating.” Lando speaks up as I eye him. Lily’s eyes flicks down to my hand then my face then back to my hand.

I give her a confused look before glancing at my hand, Lando’s fingers are stretched over it, spinning my own ring around my middle finger.

I avoid Lily’s eyes as I look up at Lando, “Excuse me?”

“You are!” he argues, “The first time we met I was scared shitless.” I shake my head and finish my drink, my body warm and buzzing.

Charles and Carlos both laugh as Carlos speaks, “Fuck I remember that! At that club? He had like five shots to hype himself up.”

The firelight shines on Lando’s face as his cheeks go pink, “Worked a bit too well.” I find a small smile on my face. I never knew that.

People slowly start leaving, Alex and Lily leave us outside to help cleanup. His hand leaves mine, I rest my arms under my head, leaning on his chair as he looks down at me.

“Saw you talking to Franco…” He slyly mentions.

“What now, Norris, you jealous?” His jaw ticks.

“Just saying it’s not a good look for my girlfriend to be flirting with someone on the grid. Or anyone at all.”

“Sounds pretty jealous to me!” I hum as he shakes his head, “Gonna win tomorrow?” I ask.

“Maybe.” He shrugs.

“For me?” I am definitely not in my head correctly.

He bites back a smirk, keeping eye contact, “What do I get if I win?”

He's teasing me and I like it far too much, “What do you want?”

I almost miss it. I would have if I didn’t keep eye contact. But something appears on Lando’s face… something familiar and that I thought was fake.

That fucking look.

Except now we’re away from everybody else, I’m the only one who can see his face and it makes me feel sick. He’s got a soft smile on, brushing my hair out of my face, his touch burning me.

I sit up straight, “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He smirks, clearly amused.

“You hate me!” I’m confused and angry and that damn smile isn’t helping.

He gives an airy laugh before his smile dims, his tongue running over his teeth before his eyes flick back up to mine, “No I don’t.”

I frown, “You’re supposed to!”

He shakes his head, “Why would I hate you?”

I groan, putting my face in my hands, “Because you’re in this mess because of me! I wrote a song about you.” I see his blink, the pause in his emotion as if he’s trying to figure me out. “And i’m angry! Because I didn’t want this and I didn’t want you!” I vent, “So you can’t like me now because I’ll feel bad!”

He blinks, once, twice, “Okay. I hate you.” He says it with zero emotion.

“For as good an actor as you are… that didn’t sound very convincing.” I pout and he laughs.

“I’m not a good actor, love.” I suddenly feel sobered.

“Hate me, Lando. That would make this a lot easier.” I’m mad at him. I can’t do this with him looking at me like that.

He tilts his head a bit, his jaw moving, a curl perfectly in his face. He says it with ease and a newfound softness in his voice, “How could I ever hate you?”

#fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando x reader #lando imagine

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meracyn · 6 months ago

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ʙɪᴛᴛᴇʀ, ᴋᴡᴏɴ ᴊᴀᴇ-ꜱᴜɴɢ

sypnosis. after a painful breakup that left you mentally scarred, you're forced to see kwon again, this time at the sekai taikai tournament. after successfully avoiding him many times, he finally got you to himself. the question is- will you go back to him again?

warnings. cursing, female reader & part of miyagi-do. kind of angst? the other 2 parts are up! click these; two, three

You arrived at the bar with the rest of the Miyagi-Do members. After many hours of rough training sessions and competition at the Sekai Taikai tournament, you all agreed it was fair to have some fun for a while.

The music blared through the speakers, every vibration being sent to your body. It was pretty full, but you weren't going to let that prevent you from having fun. Robby and Miguel went off on their own, as well as Demetri and Hawk. Devon had stayed back since she claimed to feel unwell, leaving you, and the female captain of your dojo alone.

You made your way to an empty spot, when you heard an all familiar voice call out to you. Looking up, you saw Sam, who sat next to you on the table, offering you a drink. "Here, you did great today by the way." She said with a smile.

Taking it from her hand, you took a sip. "Thanks, you did too." Not long after, Sam excused herself to take some fresh air outside, reassuring you she wouldn't take long.

As you were left alone, you eventually got bored and decided to go up to the bartender and order a stronger drink, which was probably a bad idea as you ended up drinking more than you intended to. Your vision was slightly blurred and your head was starting to throb.

"Ugh.." You groaned, pressing a hand against your forehead as you tried to walk out of the bar, stumbling on the way before you bumped against someone. Muttering an apology, you took a step forward when a hand grabbed your arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A sharp, low voice practically hissed at you. You felt your heart stop as you recognized the voice all too well, bringing back painful memories you thought were already gone. You tried to get out of their grasp, but their hold became much more firm, making you unable to leave.

"Let me go," You said, your tone coming off more aggressive than you thought.

"And let you be with those guys who are practically eyefucking you?"

Clenching your fist, you finally looked up. Like you figured out, it was Kwon.

Memories of the breakup flooded your mind, reminding you of the pain you felt back then. It only made your head hurt even more–and your heart, too.

"I can handle myself, thanks." You mumbled, taking the opportunity to remove your hand away from his touch. "I don't have anything to talk to you about."

Kwon reached out to hold you again, this time an arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. "Actually, we do need to talk."

You shook your head in anger, attempting to get him off of you. Kwon dipped his head low in response, his lips beside your ear. "Do you really want to cause a scene right now?" He asked, his tone sending you shivers down your spine.

You reluctantly stopped moving, as Kwon took your hand and led you out of the bar, headed towards a dark alley. The air was very chilly, a stark contrast to the bar’s warm atmosphere. As soon as Kwon stopped walking, you yanked your hand out of his.

"Why did you even bring me here?"

"I didn't think you would be at the Sekai Taikai."

"But I am, what about it?"

"You keep avoiding me."

"Yeah. The same reason you ended our relationship turned out to be in vain." You retorted, voice wavering slightly. The alcohol was starting to affect you more by the second, causing you to hold onto the cold, rough wall behind you.

Kwon took a step closer to you, faint hesitation flickering in his eyes for a moment before disappearing just as quickly. He lifted his hand to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking your skin. "Remember those nights we spent together?" He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling a wave of drowsiness overcome your senses. "Kwon..don't.." You said quietly.

"Let us try again," Kwon persisted. "Give me another chance..yeah?" He murmured, bringing your face closer to his. Your breath hitched at his actions, heart pounding.

"We can't." You pushed him away from you, making him slightly surprised. "We're in different dojos now. Focus on yours, and I'll focus on mine." Before you could continue any further, Sam spotted the both of you and quickly rushed over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder as she glared at the male in front of you.

"Get out. Don't you dare get any closer to her." She threatened, before turning to look at you, concern evident in her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah.. let's just go." You replied while avoiding Kwon's burning gaze. Sam nodded, letting you hold onto her for support as she led you out of the place.

You couldn't look back, fearing you would break and go back to him. Although deep down, you knew Kwon would do his best to do just that.

#cobra kai #kwon jae sung x reader #kwon #kwon jae-sung x reader #kwon jae sung #ck #sam larusso #miyagi do #female reader #kwon jae sung x f! reader #angst #a bit of fluff #idk lol #meracyn

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zorosangell · 3 months ago

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I NEED pit pt2 ! GIVE ZORO HIS GIRL BACK!!! 😤😔

⛥ﾟ・。 boxers

synopsis: part two of pit -- zoro saves your life (ish) and finally finds the courage to win you back

cw: fluffy fluff with a dash of angst, comfort, ZORO IS DOWN BAD, kinda grovels ig, but like as he should, reader kinda stands on business (not really tho).

a/n: been a minute y'all <3 happy to see you guys again

"For fuck's sake," Zoro groaned, throwing his forearm over his eyes as the loud, frenzied moans of Nami's booty call slithered through the walls.

Was she fucking killing him?

Audibly, the man was shoved against the headboard, letting out a surprised string of groans as the navigator continued her assault, doing whatever it was she did that had men begging her not to leave whatever island they were docked at.

Of course, she never obliged; but that never stopped her from robbing them blind, each and every one practically handing over their valuables at the sight of her shy smile.

It was almost laughable.

Zoro couldn't wrap his head around the poor bastards who found themselves so besotted so easily.

She was just a woman.

Hell, she was just a person.

No different from any other stranger you'd pass on the road.

...Right?

With an annoyed sigh, the swordsman dragged a calloused hand over his face, staring at the ceiling of his dark room with a knowing look.

Then again, it was just a woman that had made the last month of his life a living hell.

Or rather... her absence.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the inn bed, he glanced over at the nightstand, snatching up his day-old glass of water and taking a large swig.

By the severe lack of light flowing in through the window, he could tell it was still the wee hours of the morning, despite the fact he felt he'd been up for years.

But lately, that was how every night went.

'Cut it out.'

Without hesitation, Zoro dropped to the ground, completely ignoring the empty cup on the floor as he caught himself in a plank, starting up his push-ups.

He could do this.

He could work through this.

He just had to give himself a little more time.

With a grunt of discomfort, his lips tightened into a taut line, ignoring how the weight felt off without a certain someone sitting on his back, and how his count felt too correct without a familiar voice chatting his ear off.

Shaking his head, the swordsman trained his gaze on the floor below him, brows cinching slightly with frustration.

'Cut. It. Out.'

In retaliation, images of your smiling face flashed through his mind, so sudden that it early made him drop himself.

God, if this wasn't pathetic, he didn't know what was.

Your big breakup with the ship's first mate was a little over a month ago, and despite Zoro's fervent efforts to forget, your words had plagued him from the moment you stepped off the deck.

"IT'S WHAT YOU DON'T DO, ZORO!"

"Every time I look at you, I feel more alone."

"Am I... just that forgettable?"

His chest ached at the broken tone of your voice, just as painful as when he first heard it.

All that time he had spent fighting off danger, working to keep you as far away from it as possible, it turned out he was the one that had been hurting you he most.

That fucked with him more than he cared to admit.

How could he have not seen the signs?

How could he have not seen how much he was hurting you?

How could he have ever forgotten anything about you?

"Am I... just that forgettable?"

Suddenly, Zoro's nose scrunched, a harsh stench snatching him from his self-loathing thoughts.

It smelled like... smoke.

In an instant, the swordsman's eye snapped open, darting around the room to see greyish-black fumes billowing in from under the door.

Sifting through his you-induced haze, he forced his brain to sort through all the pieces.

Early morning.

Smoke.

And shouting that had finally managed to bleed through the walls.

'(y/n)!'

Frantically, Zoro scrambled to his feet, still in his boxers and nothing else as he snatched up his swords and practically ripped the door open.

And the moment he did, he was met with utter chaos.

Inn workers rushed past carrying large buckets of water while other patrons shouted over the dark clouds of smoke, rushing down the hallway in frantic attempts of escape.

"Zoro, the building's on fire!" Chopper exclaimed from Robin's shoulder, arms wrapped around her neck as she tried to follow the crowd toward the stairs.

"We need to leave! Quickly!" the woman added, expression slightly tainted by worry.

"I don't know why you waste your time with these assholes, Nami-swan," Sanji grumbled, one hand holding hers while the other dragged the bastard she was robbing by the scruff of his neck, his face severely bruised. "The hell you standing around for, mosshead?! We gotta move!"

"Luffy and the others went on ahead! So come on!" Nami barked through her cloth mouth-covering.

"Where's (y/n)?!" Zoro asked, frantically.

The four froze in their tracks, the color instantly draining from their faces.

"She's not with you?!"

You had been avoiding the swordsman like the plague after the incident.

If he was honest, he doubted you would ever even look in his direction again, much less come to his side in a crisis.

Those days were over...

'SHIT!'

"Head outside! I'm goin' back for her!" he barked, roughly pushing through the sea of people to get to your room.

"Zoro, wait!" Chopper exclaimed.

"That half of the building completely ablaze!" Robin called. "Be careful!"

"I don't care if you burn to death trying, you better bring her back safely, moss for brains!" Sanji spat, Nami quickly moving to drag him toward the staircase.

Their noise went in one ear and out the other as he charged down the hall, expression wild with worry as he attempted to reign in his thoughts from your burning corpse to just you.

From the flow of the smoke, he could tell it was coming from the direction of your room, though he wasn't sure where.

But the thought only quickened his pace.

The further he trekked, the thicker the smoke got, and the harder it became to breath, his nose in the crook of his elbow doing little to shield his lungs.

"(y/n)!" he shouted over the distant, roaring flames. "C'mon, (y/n), sound off! (y/n)!"

His heart felt like it was in his ass, bile tearing at his throat like a raging river.

If something happened to you...

If you died with the terms you two left on...

If you died without allowing him to say all the things on his mind...

He'd never forgive himself.

"Fuck! (y/n)!" Zoro shouted, a cold shiver running down his spine despite the rising heat. "(y/n)!"

After what felt like a millennia, he finally reached the door to your room, frantically jiggling the handle only to find it was locked.

Blood rushed through his ears at the thought of you inside, so much so that he didn't even register the singeing burn of the metal against the palm of his hand.

"(y/n)! (y/n), open the door!"

And then he hears it.

Your small, faint voice, thick with exhaustion and fatigue.

"Zo... ro!"

"I'm comin', baby! Move out the way!"

Without hesitation, he drew his sword, winding up with practiced ease.

"Zoro, no!"

"108 Caliber Phoenix!"

In an instant, the door was gone, but the swordsman was more concerned with the familiar face running toward him.

Your silhouette emerged from the smokey air, clad in nothing but the thinnest tank top known to man, and a small pair of Nami's shorts.

Utterly relieved, you collided with his solid frame, arms wrapping around him like a vice as if he'd disappear if you let him go.

"(y/n)," he huffed into your ear, his arms find home around your waist like two puzzle pieces finally coming together. "You came back in here? The hell were you thinkin'?"

His words were angry, but tone so soft as his hand traveled to the back of your head to pull you further into him.

Smoothly, his free hand hooked under your thighs, effortlessly scooping you up and carrying out the building as it burned to the ground.

Finally outside, the two of you stood with each other, silently, as Robin conversed with the inn keeper about the start of the blaze.

The both of you were quite a sight.

Zoro, covered in soot, hair mussed from tossing and turning, in nothing but his black boxers.

You, covered in soot, hair wild from tossing and turning, in nothing but a thin shirt and tiny shorts.

Though you, in particular, seemed to be what the male population outside were more fond of.

And, of course, your swordsman took notice almost instantly.

"You guys need somethin'?" the words spilled from his lips like venom, his grip on his scabbard tightening ever so slightly as he shifted his stance to shield you from the eyes of a nearby group of men.

They were standing not too far away, gawking at you as if you were some sort of attraction at a fair.

And under the infamous glare of the pirate hunter, they all scurried away like startled deer, earning an annoyed scoff from the mosshead before he returned his gaze straight—all while still taking his mandatory glance at you every minute or so.

Somehow, you looked even prettier than the last time he saw you, the ginormous bonfire sitting in front of you painting your face with beautiful red and orange light.

Maybe it was relief.

Maybe it was his guilt.

He wasn't sure.

But what he was sure of was that he needed to get off what was on his chest before it was too late.

"That was stupid," he started, curtly, as he turned to you. "Comin' back in for me like that. You could've gotten hurt... or worse."

You exhaled sharply out of your nose, slowly shifting to face him.

"I was already out here when the others told me you'd stayed behind to go look for me. I couldn't let you do that 'cause God knows you wouldn't have come out unless you dragged me from the flames with you."

"You're damn right, I wouldn't have," he replied, sharply, though without an ounce of malice in his voice. "But the difference between you and me is that I can take it."

"Oh, that's the difference? I can't take it?" your brow arched, harshly, as you poked his bare chest. "I'm not some delicate flower, Zoro. I can take care of myself. You forfeited all right to do that for me a few weeks ago."

"You know I don't give a damn about rights, (y/n)," Zoro scoffed, shifting his weight on his feet. "I give a damn about you not burning to death."

"Little late for that..." you mumbled under your breath, though Zoro had heard loud and clear.

And he didn't like it one bit.

"Hey," he started, pointedly, grabbing onto your arm with a soft yet firm touch. "Look, I know I'm an asshole, but no matter how much you refuse to believe it... I care about you. I care a whole damn lot."

He sighed, taking a deep breath.

"I know I didn't show it well when we were together, but that's not something that's gonna change 'cause of where we're at right now."

Your eyes widened slightly, surprised by the sudden, vulnerable confession.

It was completely out of character for him, and the way he raked an anxious hand through his green hair let you know that he knew it, too.

"(y/n), I... you..." he stumbled, tone rising with frustration toward himself. "I fucked up... I fucked up a lot. I took a good thing for granted and didn't know it until you were gone."

His eyes found yours, the sheer sincerity and regret in his iris nearly knocking you over.

The sudden urge to hug the swordsman overtook your hands, your fingers twitching to reach out to him.

But you knew better, and given the circumstances it was almost laughable that he'd be the one needing comfort.

"(y/n)... you mean the world to me... and more than anything, I want you to be happy... even if that happiness is because I'm gone," Zoro stated, not a single waver in his voice as his calloused hand carefully slid into yours, caressing your skin with such a reverence you'd think you were fine china.

It forced a swell of warmth to radiate through your stomach, spreading all the way down to your toes.

His touch felt like coming home, a feeling that scared you to no end, but granted you immense solace nonetheless.

Not a day went by without you missing him, missing what you both used to be, and not a night without you wishing he was still by your side.

"I don't expect forgiveness. And I refuse to ask it of you," he continued, glancing down at your conjoined hands with a wistful look. "But if there's anything I want you to know... it's that I'm sorry... and that I love you."

A small gasp left your lips, his words nearly striking you dumb.

You were almost certain the word "sorry" wasn't in his vocabulary...

"And no matter where you go... or who else you may turn to... know that I'll always be here for you whenever you need me."

At that, he released your hand, the sudden coldness burning more than any flame could.

This wasn't what you wanted.

Hell, none of this was.

You knew what you wanted.

You'd known this whole time.

And now it had finally said the words you'd been waiting for it to say for over a month.

Feeling dismissed by your stunned silence, Zoro's expression turned emotionless, and he turned to go take a walk, or find some sake bottle to drown his sorrows in—whichever came first.

But before he could step away, you quickly grabbed his arm, spinning him back around before futility slamming your fists on his chest, not fazing him in the slightest.

"Damn it! I don't want to turn to anyone else!" you huffed, looking up at him with glassy eyes. "I want you, you asshole! ...But you just can't seem to get it through that thick head of yours."

Without warning, you flicked him harshly on the forehead, earning a sharp wince.

"OW! The hell was that for?!"

"You're stupid... arrogant... and rude. You have no manners, the mouth of a sailor, and the blood-lust of a demon from hell," you listed, your hand coming up to tenderly cup his cheek in your palm, the man leaning into your touch almost instantly.

You felt so soft...

And your words only brought back memories of playful nights bickering.

God, how could he have gone a month without this?

"But I love you... so much... and I can't imagine anyone else by my side... not even if I tried."

Zoro's eyes widened slightly at your confession, but in them laid a small flicker of hope.

One you faintly recognized.

"Zoro... if we do this again... it can't be the same..." you warned, resting your hands on his chest. "I can't go through all that another time, and I won't. 'Cause at the first sign, I'm walking away."

"You have my word," he promised, as if it was an irrefutable fact, resting his firm hand over your soft one, which sat above his heart. "If you ever do, you have full permission to kill me."

"Cute you think I need permission for that," you chuckled, playfully raising your brow. "You should be more worried about who gets to you first: me or Nami?"

The man shivered at the thought, cracking a small smile at your amused expression.

Leaning down, he pressed a firm kiss on your forehead, deciding against the option of your lips in favor of taking things slow.

He didn't want to overwhelm you.

"Point taken."

Effortlessly, he scooped you up, relishing in your tiny squeak, as well as the feeling of your arms snaking around his neck.

For the first time in thirty-six days, the world felt right, and his chest felt whole.

The hold you had on the swordsman was almost terrifying; but, he'd be damned if he let anything loosen it ever again, himself included.

So, he started the trek back to the Sunny, fighting off the grin threatening to break onto his face as you rested your head against his chest.

"Now... let's get you into somethin' a little warmer. Gonna get sick like this."

"Zoro, you're in your underwear..."

"And?"

"I—y'know what? ...Nevermind."

#zorosangell #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #op

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primofate · 2 years ago

Text

Genshin Angst Headcanons - Why the two of you broke up

Note: Had an unexpected free day! I haven't written in a while, please excuse the mistakes, if any.

Disclaimer at the end of the post

Warning: Some are pretty predictable. Each of them have their own issues, lore wise, so some are lore heavy. You might not agree with some of them, but its how I see it, so to each their own. Let me know what you think! Some are quite angsty. Some scenes it's you breaking up with him and some are vice versa. Didn't feel like writing Razor, Venti and Xingqiu.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Bennett, Chongyun, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Personal Favourites in this work: Lyney, Itto, Kazuha

Aether

Sister issues. Enough said.

He realized he didn't have enough time to spare romancing with someone.

Somewhere along the way he felt guilt that he was enjoying his time with you while his sister went through some sort of villain origin story that seemingly turned her bad.

Top off all the adventuring, searching, solving problems for other people that he did...Where did that leave you, exactly?

"...I'm sorry, Y/N... I just... I don't think this is the right time for me to be together with you,"

Albedo

Contrary to popular belief it wouldn't be his lack of time or extreme focus on his alchemical experiments that would break the two of you up. He knows how to manage his time.

It was the RESULTS of experiments and his research that would put him away from you.

The possibility that HE or his world, was way too dangerous for you.

How many "Albedos" did Rhinedottir really create? Was there more than three? Perhaps four, five? And what happens when you come face to face with another Albedo?

"I'm afraid...There are far too many dangers surrounding myself... There are answers that I can't find...and perhaps that's the reason why my answer is to part ways with you,"

Alhaitham

Too much of a nonchalant attitude.

He expressed some kind of interest in you...but it's like... once in a blue moon. 95% of the time you're not sure if he's really into you. It almost seems like he's more into that book he reads all the time.

Simply just not good at expressing himself. Like, at all. Hides behind a "whatever works" and "I don't care about what other people think of me" attitude, unfortunately that seems to include you.

Is so straightforward that sometimes it hurts, but he's really just telling the truth through logical analysis.

will act like the breakup didn't hurt nor affect him at all. In turn it hurts you instead.

"I see. So you've had enough of me... And you only spoke up now? Pointing it out earlier could've diverted us from this path...If that's how you feel already I suggest that we stop seeing each other,"

"That's it? You're not even going to try and work it out with me?"

"What's there to work out? You've made yourself clear. You're not satisfied with the way I treat you, and I'm afraid I'm not going to change the way I act just for your pleasure... It'd be more meaningful for you to find someone who fits your criterias,"

Ayato

entering a relationship with a noble was not as easy as one thought.

It's not just about being together forever and feeling lucky because Ayato is rich and your whole life is set, it's also the not fitting in, the etiquette, the whispers from townfolk that you were too ordinary for him, the work that you needed to do if you were to become his wife.

All that was not really a big problem for you, but Ayato seemed not to know of your struggles, he was extremely busy, and when he wasn't, he seemed to think that everything was well and fine, since you were getting all your basic needs met and even more.

"...So I'm sorry, Ayato. This is just... All too much for me. I'm sorry,"

"...I understand. Forgive me, it seems that I've overlooked a lot of things...Perhaps it is as you say, that it'd be better for us to grow apart rather than grow together,"

Baizhu

because he is a ticking time bomb, no matter which way he looked it's not going to end well for both of you.

He either dies early or lives forever. In both scenarios he anticipates that the two of you are just going to be in a world of hurt.

Besides, he didn't mean to get so attached to someone in the first place, he knew his quest for immortality was long and arduous. You didn't deserve to walk that difficult road too.

While breaking up, will conceal the fact that he's only thinking of you and will possibly hurt you in the process.

"I'm sorry, but it's for the best. I ask that you continue going forward without me, there's no space for you in my... ideal future,"

Bennett

We all know it...it's his bad luck. However, it wasn't YOU who had a problem with it, it was HIM.

You understood that his bad luck was just some extended part of him, plus it's not like it was always bad, there were a lot of good times too. Plenty!

But the guilt ate him up whenever the two of you were stuck in a seemingly impossible scenario and predicament, brought on by his luck. He just had enough of it one day.

"I...I can't keep doing this to you every day! It's not fair..."

will be on the brink of tears before he even starts.

"Maybe it's better if you find someone else to adventure with, Y/N, sorry...!"

runs away before you can even get a word in.

Chongyun

Thinks he's not good enough in every aspect. It's really, seriously not about you. He thinks he's lacking in everything. Strength, maturity, experience, confidence.

So badly wants to stay with you but feels like he's not good enough and thinks that you're better off with someone else.

"D-Don't misunderstand... It's not because I don't like you anymore... I just...Please find someone else!"

Cyno

his bad jokes and TCG addiction. just kidding, you're not that shallow.

A lot of people are intimidated by him being the General Mahamatra because he gives importance to justice. While you, who had seen a bit more of him than other people had, it seemed more of an obsession to uphold the Akademiya's law and integrity.

This was not a big problem to you, you liked how he was serious at work.

Until one day when you were accused of plagiarising one of your papers and Cyno was the one sent to give you a first offense warning. The Akademiya knew of your relationship, that's probably why they sent him, to make it harder on the two of you.

Cyno didn't listen to your explanations on how it was an honest mistake, he still gave you the warning that you "deserved"

From then on it had just been different between the two of you, so it was really a mutual breakup. Or so you thought.

"...After that, I just realized that maybe this isn't the right time for us... We're both working for the Akademiya, we both take our jobs seriously...Unfortunately that seems to just be getting in the way of us...I think it's best if we stop seeing each other,"

"...I see." he pauses for a minute, as if tossing your words in his mind. "I...agree. Parting ways would certainly make work easier for both of us...it's the professional thing to do,"

Dainsleif

Has not moved on from his past.

Sure, everyone has their own baggage to carry, their own history to live through...but Dainsleif has heavier things than that. He seemed to wake up every day thinking of Khaenri'ah and the days long past. Was it regret? Nostalgia? Loneliness? You didn't know. You just knew that he wasn't really completely THERE with you in the present. Part of him still lived in the past.

When you explained that you felt like the two of you were not moving forward together and that it seemed like he wanted to go back to the past instead, he got offended.

"...My past is something that I carry forever, you'd claimed that you understood that," he starts.

"I do! But carrying it with you and letting it drag you backwards are two different things!"

He falters for a moment, only to leave you with his last words before turning away from you forever: "You will never understand, the weight that I carry,"

Diluc

is too guarded. You'd been friends for a long, long, long, long time before he decided he could let you in enough and be more intimate with you.

Even then everything was going at a snail's pace, though you were extremely patient with him.

The biggest problem with Diluc was that the two of you would progress one day, take a step forward, and then the next day it was like the two of you took two steps back.

Example: The two of you went out for a simple stargazing excursion late one night, it was nice and he had been incredibly affectionate. The next day he had trouble even meeting your gaze, and disappeared to do his work. It was also a little awkward during dinnertime. This scenario had happened more than once.

Hint: the closer he got to you the more afraid he became, thinking that he would one day lose you too.

"I...I can't. I love you but I...I've waited far too long. I'm sorry. I'm tired of this endless chase for you!"

He couldn't even say a thing. He'd wanted to ask you to stay, to wait for him a little longer, but he already knew how incredibly selfish that would have been. Instead, he grimaced, and looked away from your gaze, trying to find something worthwhile to say. There was only silence for a few moments.

"Goodbye Diluc," that's when you turned away.

Gorou

worships Kokomi too much and your insecurities just kept circling around in your head.

You know its his job. You know he isn't like that but the problem was YOU and not him.

Simply said you let your insecurity eat up the relationship between the two of you.

You couldn't bring yourself to say that you were jealous of the way he admired Kokomi so you broke up with him with another reason in tow.

Unfortunately, you're not a very good liar face to face so you did a butthole move and actually broke up with him through a letter. You just couldn't face him and tell him why.

All you mentioned in the letter was that you needed time to think and be away from him, and told him not to worry because it was your problem, not his.

Poor Gorou reread that letter over and over, trying to understand what went wrong.

Heizou

is just a natural flirt. You're not sure if he's doing it on purpose or not and you're not sure if he's even aware he's like that.

Anyway you'd seen him getting overly friendly (just another word for flirting) with a few other people a couple of times. You didn't let it get to you the first, fourth or even eighth time but you realized that he KNOWS that you're watching him do that.

So you confront him about it, but he claims that it's just his way of gathering information from others. People like to hear good things and some people are more susceptible to flirtatious comments so he resorts to that for his investigation sometimes.

You didn't really completely buy it and even if you did, it's not like this was healthy for your relationship. You just couldn't make yourself comfortable with it.

*You just chalked it up to the two of you being incompatible.

"I'm just not comfortable with that...I don't think I have to say sorry for how I feel but...I'm sorry anyway because I know you're just doing your job... It's probably best if we part ways here..."

"Is there any way to change your mind?" he genuinely asks.

You only give a lopsided smile. "You're a detective, I think you already know the answer to that,"

Yet he didn't stop you from walking away.

Itto

Kept breaking promises because he was too airheaded or too occupied doing something "stupid" with the kids or with his gang.

Pretty soon it just felt like you were an afterthought while everyone else in his life took precedent.

Got a ramen date? Oops, sorry! Got caught up looking for a strong onikabuto in the forest!

Needed his help to move some things? Gah, he was vandalising the bulletin boards, so he's running a bit late!

What's more you didn't actually mind that carefree, airheaded side of him...but it really got to you when he couldn't even seem to make you a priority. Not once.

He only realized that when he came running, late again, and stood face to face with a crying you.

"Hey sorry Y/N, I was just--...Why are you crying?!" is completely dumbfounded and clueless, mostly because when he came late, you had always shrugged it off with a smile on your face, or so he thought. This time you had a completely different reaction.

"I hate you...*hic* I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Shocked beyond belief. It wasn't like you to just blow up like that, but he couldn't do anything except watch you turn and run away from him after that exclamation.

Kaeya

Sometimes you're not sure if he takes you seriously.

Recently, he's not where he says he is, you don't know why he doesn't just tell you where he is.

He said he'd be working late, but then you find out he's at Angel's Share.

He said he'll be at Angel's Share, but then you catch word from Jean that he's out on a late mission.

He said he's escorting a caravan to Mondstadt but he's actually on assignment in Liyue.

It came to the point where you altogether just stopped looking for him cause half of the time you couldn't find him. It's like he's avoiding you or something, which, actually, seems just about right since he's been so busy with "work"

It reached a breaking point when, for a week, you were unable to bring him the lunch you prepared...because he was not where he said he was going to be. It was starting to get annoying.

"I don't understand why you're lying to me! Why do you have to tell me you'll be at Angel's Share this afternoon when you're not? Do you realize you make me walk all the way there only to come all the way back with nothing achieved?"

"I'm sorry snowflake, that wasn't my intention," though he still chuckles despite knowing full well that you were about to turn away.

"You know what, let me know when you're ready to stop making jokes. Until then, don't bother contacting me,"

He just didn't expect you to actually walk away from him.

Kaveh

Entertains everyone and anyone. Naturally kind at heart, will stop for anyone in trouble...even that flirtatious man/woman who is clearly just pining for his attention.

No he doesn't quite realize this.

The same person had asked for his help at least 4 times now and all 4 times he had been happy to offer a helping hand.

The last straw was when he was invited into the stranger's house, they had apparently needed someone to help them move and re-arrange furniture and he did, working till almost dinner time.

You'd caught him right by the person's door, because Kaveh was actually honest and told you he'd be helping them today, but the person was clearly eyeing Kaveh rather flirtatiously.

"Come again next time," you heard the person say rather happily. Kaveh only replies with "If I have nothing else to do, I suppose,"

"Kaveh, they're coming onto you and you keep letting it happen!"

"I'm not certain what you're talking about...They just needed some help around their house, nothing suspicious happened at all. Even if there was, I won't let anything happen between me and a stranger!"

"Then STOP helping them!"

"There isn't anything wrong with lending a hand...It was a quick move of things, that's all,"

"How would YOU feel if I just went into someone's house and kept helping them "move" things?"

"...I would think that's nice of you,"

You actually threw your hands up. "Oh, forget it! You know what, for someone who LOVES helping others, you're not doing such a great job of helping ME," then walked away and never came back. "Good riddance,"

Kazuha

He's a wandering samurai. You knew what you were getting into but you didn't expect dating him to be so hard.

He was gone for weeks on end, and you were not getting on that boat with him. In essence the two of you were just not ready to follow each other to the end's of the Earth, and that was fair. The two of you were young.

Kazuha kind of saw it coming, whenever he visited you, you seemed less spirited and he had an inkling as to why. The time apart was just too much for you.

It was a rather clean break actually. A real mutual breakup that the two of you agreed on.

"...You could say it's just not the right time for us," you even managed to laugh under your breath and he did the same, though it was barely audible.

"...Mm. There are matters that you need to attend to here...and there are things that I need to do out there," he slowly stood up from his sitting position next to you and still gazed at you rather lovingly. "...Perhaps, in another world, you and I are bound together,"

You gazed back forlornly, "...Just not in this one, it looks like,"

Lyney

because he will always choose his siblings over you. Always.

Though that's not a bad thing because you also think that family is important...somewhere along the way you realized that family is the ONLY thing he had and saw.

Example: Lynette and you had gotten ill at the same time one winter morning. Perhaps it was the cold that was passing around Fontaine. Lyney had been so worried about Lynette, that he seemed to have forgotten about you for the next few days. In fact, Lyney didn't even realize that you caught the cold too. You had only heard from Freminet, who you happened to cross paths with, that Lynette was also ill.

You thought that incident was the end of it, but really it seemed that whenever Lyney wanted to hang out with you, Lynette had to be there too. You tried to understand...after all there's still that mystery of disappearing women in Fontaine.

The breakup was induced when Lyney completely forgot about your birthday, because Freminet's was around the same time as yours. You helped Lyney prepare everything for Freminet, and said nothing about your own.

You realized that there was nothing wrong with choosing family over everything else...but the problem here was that Lyney didn't even have space for you in the first place.

So you left without saying anything. You figured he'd get over it quick. You had even gone so far as to move away from the main city of Fontaine and out into another island, because what would you say if he found you? That you were jealous of his siblings? You weren't going to ruin a family like that and it wasn't right to make him choose...so you just left without a word.

Neuvillette

Had a whole brainrot for this man:

Part 1

Part 2

Scaramouche

surprisingly it's not his anger issues.

It's the way he wouldn't acknowledge your relationship. You wonder how you even got into one with him.

There's no public show of affection, but even behind closed doors it rarely happened.

You knew that he was going to be like that, and so you didn't mind it all that much.

It was getting a bit much though when, out in public, he would walk further in front of you and refused to walk next to you. When he pretended like he didn't even know you. When he didn't stop to help you even when another man had shown interest in you, bordering on uncomfortable.

The more time passed the more you simply felt unloved...but for some reason you still blamed yourself.

"...I...don't know. Maybe you find me undesirable, or just...unappealing. Maybe you're embarrassed of me or...or..." maybe you just didn't care in the first place, you thought to yourself.

There was a long silence. Of you turning your gaze away, of him still piercing into yours. And then...

"Tsk...don't waste my time...Leave if you want to leave, door's open,"

Tartaglia

This one is simple. It's his obsession for fighting plus his complete disregard for himself. It's a constant heart attack for you. At some point the anxiety is just too much for you to handle.

Imagine living every day just wondering if he's safe at the same time knowing that he just loves to look for trouble.

The foul legacy that you know of, he uses it with disregard as well, despite knowing that it wasn't good for him.

And there are even days where you know he was heavily wounded but didn't go to you, in an attempt to shield you from worry.

It's a constant battle trying to stay sane and unworried, until one day it all just becomes too much.

"...Nothing I say will change anything, Tartaglia. This is who you are...This is who you need to be..." you whisper while bandaging his knuckles. He lets out a short hum.

It was silent all up until you finished with his hand, you squeeze it gently. "...I love you but...I can't keep doing this to myself, I'm tired...more so than I have ever been before,"

He lets your hand slip away from his knuckles, and that was the last he saw of you.

Thoma

This one is also simple. He was always taking care of others and running errands for others that he sometimes just couldn't catch a break.

Just a classic case of not enough time for you since he had a job to do for the Kamisato Clan.

He knows it, and feels awful about it. So he's the one who makes the move.

"It hurts that I can't give you what you deserve, Y/N. This isn't it... You deserve more than this but I can't give you that and I'm sorry. Please look for the love that you deserve,"

Tighnari

Remembers everything. Can be critical of things you've done, specially if he thinks there's a better way to do it.

Simply said you just feel stupid in front of him sometimes.

He doesn't mean to, but he sometimes forgets to appreciate or give praise to the things that you do well and even if he does, it tends to be short lived compared to his constructive criticisms.

Pretty soon you felt like he only looks at the bad things you do, and never the good. Though he was really only trying to teach and guide you as an equal.

He in fact feels that you are one of the few people who can keep up educational conversations with him.

The problem is he kind of forgets that you're his lover, and that you would enjoy his praise and affection from time to time.

"Do you... Do you ever have anything nice to say other than 'good work' or 'great observation'?" the words were out of your mouth before you could hold yourself back. Sometimes it was tiring to feel like you weren't good enough.

There's a flash of surprise that crosses Tighnari's expression for a split second, before he recovers. "...Had I not been praising your work enough lately? My apologies... It has a lot of merits, I just thought that you wanted my opinion on how to make it better,"

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again right after to ponder on his words. Somehow even that had managed to make you feel embarrassed. It was here you knew that the problem also lied within yourself.

"...Sorry, Tighnari...I think I'll need some time alone,"

He obliges quickly and asks. "That's reasonable. When would you like me to come back?"

"...Let me rephrase that... I need some time away. From us."

Xiao

Unfortunately there's a lot of things wrong here... his lack of affection. His aloof personality. His dedication to his yaksha duties. Despite that he does actually try to be gentlemanly or respectful of you.

The worst of it is that he didn't know how to be in a relationship, in other words he just wasn't ready for one, or perhaps he would never be ready for one.

He didn't understand that humans craved companionship and sometimes touch. He didn't understand that meant having to favour you over others, sometimes even putting you first over his yaksha duties.

Worst of it all was when he shut himself off from you, sometimes for days on end, when his karmic debt was too high. He only really did it to protect you, but never realized how isolated that made you feel.

When you confronted him about it, he felt attacked. Hiding away was the only way he knew how to cope...why couldn't you understand that?

"Let me help you, Xiao,"

"I don't need your help!" his tone would make you wince and just like that he disappears into a billow of smoke.

You never returned to Wangshu Inn after that. If he couldn't let you in, there was no use trying to knock on his heart. Xiao being Xiao, never sought you ought again either.

Zhongli

He had experienced so many things and you had listened to many a tales from him.

This is what caused you to realize that you hadn't even experienced life at all, and yet here you were willing to tie yourself down to him.

It just didn't feel like it added up. Here he was with all this knowledge of the world and here you were who had never even stepped outside of Liyue. By no means were you stupid, but you felt that you could be better not only for him, but for yourself if you learned more.

There was just such a huge gap in life experiences, and though you never expected to get to his level (he was a God who had lived for a long time, you would never catch up to him) you at least wanted to see what was out there with your own eyes instead of through his stories.

He understood that wholeheartedly, and had no qualms in letting you go.

"You will always have a place with me, Y/N. No amount of lifetimes will change that,"

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Disclaimer: Relationships will always have some sort of problem along the way, maybe big, maybe small but I just want to reiterate that breaking up is not always the solution. Communicating is very important. So to those of you who like taking fanfiction too seriously, let it be known that this is just a work of fiction. I don't actually suggest breaking up with someone as soon as there is the slight indication of a problem (Just saw someone commenting on a similar themed post for Haikyuu that this wouldn't happen in the real world if both parties were mature... I mean, sure, but, idk, you must be fun in parties... it's called fiction for a reason...)

#genshin angst #genshin breakup #genshin headcanons #lyney x reader #genshin impact angst #lyney angst #neuvillette angst #neuvillette x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham angst #cyno angst #cyno x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche angst #diluc angst #tartaglia angst #itto angst

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