#the 1 x champagne problems

[slytherheign]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS | daniel ricciardo

PART 4/4 OF BROKEN GLASS AND HONEY SERIES.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRINGS: ex!daniel ricciardo x fem!reader, max verstappen x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: sometimes you just don’t know the answer until someone’s on their knees and asks you.

WARNINGS: rejection, false hope, infatuation, feelings of hurt and overwhelming pain. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 16+]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. we have reached the end of the series! sorry if i hurt some of you emotionally. btw, there are a lot of references to the previous parts in this.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

Rejection.

A word that carried so much weight in matters of the heart. It hit him with a force he never saw coming, leaving him breathless, bewildered, and questioning every decision he had made.

The pain of rejection cut deep, undermining the confidence he once had, and casting shadows over the hopes and dreams he dared to envision. 

Rejected.

Rejected from McLaren.

Rejected from a Red Bull seat.

And now, he was rejected once again.

In an instant, his world felt shattered, and he questioned just how worthy he truly was of love and affection.

He poured his heart out, baring his soul in that vulnerable moment when he knelt on one knee. He thought you had shared something meaningful, a connection that was genuine and real.

He thought it would be enough.

Daniel’s car traveled home with one less person inside that night. But even if he was already in his garage, he refused to step out of his car. He stayed so he could sit there in his hurt. 

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within him.

It was hard, almost impossible, not to take it personally, to wonder what could have gone wrong. Was it something he said? Something he did? Or perhaps it was simply a matter of timing and circumstance, beyond his control.

He ran his hand through his hair, his face reflecting a mixture of frustration and resignation.

He could say that he longed for clarity, a glimpse into your thoughts and reasons, but that would be a lie. Because in all honesty, he kind of saw it coming.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that you picked Max or the fact that there was a part of him that always knew you would pick Max.

Why did he even try?

Oh, right.

Hope.

Because of hope.

He tried because you showed him hope.

You showed him hope—a glimmer of light that he hadn't seen in ages. Life had become monotonous, blending into an array of muted gray, until you came along. Your entry into his life was like a vibrant burst of color, injecting new life into his weary soul. He dared to hope, to believe that he had found something extraordinary.

It was a peculiar feeling. To be caught between longing and despair, to have his heart both soar and shatter within the same breath. The intoxicating aura of love was both a beacon of hope and a cruel illusion, and he found himself entangled in that painful paradox.

With a final deep breath, he left his car, ready to face his family who were staying in his home just for this special night. He told his family for a reason, he just couldn’t keep it in.

But now he wished he didn’t.

Cheer and applause were what met him when he entered the door. His family had huge smiles plastered on their faces, clearly excited about the news they were expecting. 

Until it stopped.

It all stopped when his lips trembled, trying to fake a smile. 

It all stopped when they saw the tears on his face.

They didn’t even need to ask what happened. They already knew.

His sister splashed out the bottle of Dom Perignon, but no one was celebrating. 

"She would've made such a lovely bride. What a shame she's fucked in the head," his father said. His mom’s ring was still in his pocket, and your picture was still in his wallet. But love… 

Love slipped beyond his reaches.

There was nothing to celebrate.

Max was walking you home, still holding the umbrella to protect you from the rain. Neither of you spoke and neither of you really cared. Max knew, from the way your lips shook, eyes cried, and the whimpers that left your mouth, that you did not want to speak at that moment. He respected and understood that.

He was more understanding now than he was before.

You were speechless. Your mouth could not utter a single word, but your mind made up for it by clouding itself with overwhelming thoughts.

You remembered that one night when fate played a part in your first meeting with Daniel. 

That night, he asked you to dance and you refused. You refused because you knew he was asking you to dance to a song of love and new beginnings.

But after a single conversation, it was you who asked him if he was still willing to dance.

You always knew that dancing was a dangerous game. But that night, you started it when you offered your hand to Daniel.

The dance continued. 

But now, you dropped his dance while dancing. Left him out there, crestfallen on the landing with your champagne problems.

One for the money.

Two for the show.

You never were ready.

So, you let him go.

And you left him alone.

You just didn’t know the answer until he was already on his knees and asked you.

You couldn’t even give him a reason.

His proposal should have brought you joy, excitement, and a feeling of being cherished. But instead, you had found yourself struggling, torn between the present and the ghosts of your past.

The same exact past that was walking beside you right now.

It was not that Daniel wasn't kind or loving, he truly was. He possessed all the qualities one could desire in a partner. But your heart lingered elsewhere.

There was someone before him. Someone who awoken a flame within you, a love so fierce and profound that it felt like it could withstand anything. And then, life happened, you drifted apart, and your paths diverged towards separate horizons.

But even as the seasons changed, and new opportunities came knocking at your door, that love never truly left you. It remained etched in the deepest recesses of your being, an indelible mark upon your soul.

Accepting his proposal would have been a betrayal, not only to him, but to yourself as well. It was a painful decision to make, but you owed it to yourself and to him, to be honest and not settle for anything less than a love that was pure. For one can only truly give their heart to another when they are whole themselves.

His heart was glass and you dropped it.

You didn’t even notice you reached your apartment until Max opened the door for you. He sat you down on your couch, before leaving you for a moment to heat some water and prepare a bath for you. 

He went back right after, crouching in front of you so he could see your face. You were looking down, still crying. He placed a finger under your chin, moving it upwards so you could face him. And then he fixed the wet hair that covered your face, wiped your tears, and kissed your forehead.

The heart wants what it wants, and yours was still beating in an unbreakable rhythm alongside the person in front of you—Max.

You suddenly recalled what Daniel told you before, when he told you an advice his father gave him and then he explained it.

“Time matters, yes. But the length is subjective. Love is not supposed to be a competition where time is the sole judge. Sometimes, longer doesn’t mean healthier, and shorter doesn’t make it insincere or artificial.”

He said that love was not supposed to be a competition. And he was not wrong about that.

It wasn’t a competition because it never was a competition in the first place.

You loved Daniel, but you were in love with Max.

It was always Max.

He poured his heart into that proposal, believing that you were the one. He had envisioned a future together with you, filled with love, laughter, and shared dreams. But perhaps fate had different plans in store for him. And though it stung him, he must pick up the pieces and keep moving forward.

His heart ached now. Those promises whispered in the darkest hours, the dreams woven with tender hands, they all shimmered with the possibility of a love that transcended boundaries. He clung to those words, as fragile as glass, praying that they would withstand the test of time.

Yet, here he was, lost in a labyrinth of broken dreams. The reality bit bitterly, gnawing at the frayed edges of his shattered heart. False hope, they called it. A cruel game of chance that you unwittingly roped him into. He knew, deep down, that you didn't do it intentionally. And that knowledge is what steeped his sorrow in a pot of bittersweet brew.

Because despite the pain that seared through his veins, he couldn't summon an ember of anger towards you. Love had a way of blinding people to the faults of those we held dearest. And so, he found himself teetering on the precipice of resentment and forgiveness, unable to fully commit to either.

It was a lonely place to be trapped in, the emotional escape room in his heart that didn't have an escape. The echoes of once-hopeful conversations reverberated through the hollow chambers of his mind, each word etching deeper into his wounded heart. 

Though the pain felt overwhelming now, Daniel knew that time would heal his wounds. It may take days, weeks, or even months, but he would pick up the pieces, rebuild his shattered heart, and learn to love again.

NETHERLANDS. AUGUST 25, 2024.

Daniel was running down the paddock, planning to head to the pitlane when a curious photographer stopped him to ask a question.

“Sorry for asking this, but I think I speak for all of us,” the photographer pointed to the fans behind him who were clearly recording this exact moment. They cheered the moment Daniel looked at them and he smiled. “When I say we are all curious about what really is your relationship with Y/N?” the photographer continued.

He chuckled. “Why did you want to know that?”

“Well, she hasn’t been beside you for months and then we just saw her with Max hours ago before you came.”

He could only smile, a genuine one.

“Y/N and I are friends, really close friends like what we’ve always been.”

“Really? Some of us thought you were dating because she was seen a lot with you before,” a fan shouted.

He laughed.

They didn’t need to know.

“What? I can’t have a female friend now?” he joked.

“Now that I’m thinking about it… you never launched anything,” the photographer mentioned.

Right. Even after dating you for months, you didn’t want to be affectionate with him in public. That was another telltale sign he chose to ignore. That was the reason he decided to propose in just under 6 months of being in a relationship with you. It was because he was in a rush, he thought that if you became engaged, you would finally let him tell the world about the two of you.

Now that he thought about it, maybe what he had was just an infatuation. An infatuation so intense that it hurt like the real thing. Maybe for so long, he just wanted to feel something and you came along at the right time. He didn’t even know anymore. And he didn’t want to know. It was all in the past.

“That’s right,” Daniel nodded. “Because we have nothing to launch.”

Just as he said that, you and Max entered his view. You two were holding hands and Max was laughing at something you said.

Daniel smiled.

“Look at them,” he gestured to you and Max, the photographer and the fans looked at who he was pointing to. “Max and her are literally meant for each other.”

“I’ve never seen Max laugh like that before,” the photographer said.

“Well, Y/N is the only one who could make him laugh like that if we’re being honest,” he chuckled again. “They make a great couple, they make each other so happy. And I’m happy for them,” he said.

Love wasn't a dead-end road; it was a winding path, full of twists and turns. Rejection was a part of that journey. For deep within, beyond the realms of rejection, dwelled a longing for love that refused to extinguish. He believed there was someone out there, someone who was meant to be for him, just as you were meant to be with Max.

There was one more thing Daniel always believed in other than taking chances.

It was that everything happens for a reason.

You and Max caught his eyes. Max nodded at him, he nodded back. 

If he could turn back time, he wouldn't change a thing.

He may not have found the love of his life, but he did find another best friend. 

He smiled at both of you, and you returned his smile.

You both knew Daniel would find the real thing instead.

She would patch up the tapestry that you shred.

And he wouldn’t even remember all your champagne problems.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry @fangirl125reader @tall-tanned-tattoo @aundercover @stevesworld9 @princessria127

JOIN THE FINALE CELEBRATION!

[azaprocky]

┃ pairings ➣ 〔 ❛ daniel ricciardo x socialite+mom!reader ❜ 〕

┃ summary ➣ 〔 ❛ he was dreaming of being with her through his lifetime, but she thinks otherwise. ❜ 〕

┃ face claim ➣ 〔 ❛ Kryz Uy ❜ 〕

┃ warnings ➣ 〔 ❛ mental health issues, swearing, gaslighting ❜ 〕

( Reader's Pov | Daniel's Pov )

twitter, a day after Daniel's Proposal

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You booked the night train for a reason so you could sit there in this hurt, bustling crowds or silent sleepers, you're not sure which is worse.

December 16, 2022, a day after the proposal

❝ well fuck. ❞ Daniel sniffled, as he scroll through his Twitter account the hashtag #YNSYANDDANIELRICCIARDOSPLIT was all over his newsfeed, the news was out, he just found it amusing that (Y/n) had the nerve to post something so private.

A tap on the Australian's shoulder stopped him from going further through his newsfeed

"Sweetheart the private jet is here" his Mother Grace said softly, she couldn't bother to say another word to her son as she knows Daniel just doesn't want to talk to anyone right now, she just sighed as she helped him stand up and guided him to the jet, she doesn't want to admit but her son looks like a wreck.

His eyes were bloodshot from crying but tears still continued to roll from his eyes, his nose runny, his bags were evident from his eyes, he looks like a wreck, but how could we blame him when his lifetime love just left him, cut all contacts with him just hours after his proposal

As he settled on one of the chair in his private jet, he looks on his window sighing:

He should've think twice about the diamond ring.

f1central

liked by maxielfone, dannyricx and 259,940 others

f1central‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Red bull's Daniel Ricciardo was seen at Perth Airport today after rumored failed proposal with long time girlfriend and actress (Y/n) (Y/l/n)

view all 45,794 comments

shurix‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I cannot physically do this today

mercboysz‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ this is why we don't fall in love with mentally ill women boys

reily950‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ shut your baldy ass up

shuriji ‎ ‎ ‎ I hope your charger only works on a certain angle!

mikaslmc‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I cannot imagine how hurt Daniel is right now

y/nfan‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I can't imagine what their son feels like right now, too young to know what's going on

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Because I dropped your hand while dancing, Left you out there standing, Crestfallen on the landing, Champagne problems

The calming sound of the ocean splashing on the seaside in the south of France couldn't help Daniel to worry about how his proposal will turn out but one thing is for sure, (Y/n) will say yes.

The laughing voice of (Y/n) while she enters their rented villa stopped the overflowing thoughts of the Australian as he almost even dropped the ruby red box that's on his palm

"Helloo!!l" (Y/n) greeted her 7 year boyfriend smiling from ear to ear, but like how can't she even greet her boyfriend not smiling when their rented villa is decorated with rose petals and even a heart arch made from white roses had welcome her.

"Hi sweetheart" Daniel hugged his girlfriend, his heart beating a million times faster, he just only hopes that (Y/n) couldn't feel it.

"What's up with you?, What's with this?" (Y/n) looked at Daniel puzzled, when out of the blue enchanted by Taylor swift started playing throughout the villa

Daniel offered his hand to the socialite grinning "May I have this dance with you my lady?"

"You may" (Y/n) laughed interwining their hands, as they swayed through the rhythms of the song, Daniel suddenly spoke which caught the girl off guard about the words coming out of the Australian's mouth

"(Y/n), the love of my life, my lifetime love, you are the girl . . . woman rather whom stayed by my side for the last five years, you have seen me in my ups and lows, you had love me unconditionally, sometimes I can't even breath if you aren't near" Daniel laughed "I'm ready to love you forevermore my (Y/n), I see my future with you, will you marry me?" Daniel got down on one knee, getting out the ring, as the music stops the Australian's heart dropped as his girlfriend of 7 years said the thing that he feared the most:

"Daniel, I can't, I'm sorry" the girl fled the villa leaving Daniel Dumfounded.

"I just lost the love of my life" Daniel's last words as he started to broke down dropping the ruby box, the ring falling out.

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Your mom's ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet

December 15, 2022

danielricciardo

liked by your.username, lando.jpg and 1,027,296 others

danielricciardo ‎ ‎ ‎ happy 7th anniversary, my muse.

view all 27,890 comments

lando.jpg‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ my parents 👏👏👏

your.username‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I love you, aking sinta! (my love)

danielricciardo‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ I love u more 💍❤️

iamhearte‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ so when will be the wedding?, you guys are so cute❗❤️

danielricciardo‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ soon!

your.username‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 🤐🤐🤐

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You told your family for a reason, You couldn't keep it in, your sister splashed out on the bottle

2 months before the proposal, October

Daniel was nervous as hell

Chatters filled the Australian's L.A Home, with his entire family occupying the home, a small gathering prepared by Daniel is currently happening right now as he was now announcing that he will be proposing to his girlfriend of 7 years.

Despite people occupying every corner of his home, he was alone at his room pacing back and forth, he was breathing heavily he was afraid that maybe this isn't the right choice, that maybe it's a bit too early, he was now questioning himself.

A sudden knock on his bedroom door stopped the ongoing existential crisis the Austrialian was feeling at the moment "Hey Dan, it's Lando, Uncle Henry is here, he's looking for you" the British driver peeked from the door in which the older driver just nodded, Lando gave him a thumbs up

saying "You got this!"

As Daniel exits his room and heads downstairs, a sudden pair of arms hugged him

"Daniel my boy! , it's nice to see you!" Henry T. Sy Jr. said greeting the F1 driver, the Chinese business man's face hold a smile looking at the formula 1 driver, it was clear that the two has a close bond.

( Henry T. Sy Jr. is the third child and oldest son of the late Henry Sy the owner of SM malls one of the most famous supermall in Asia, Henry T. Sy Jr net worth sits on a whopping 2.5 billion dollars which gives his only daughter (Y/n) a status of being a socialite. )

With all now settled on their respective chairs either on the kitchen or the living room, Daniel decided to speak up

"hello everyone, you all gathered here today because..." Daniel pauses as he looks around, he's doing the right thing, right?

"I'm now proposing to (Y/n) this coming December" Daniel announces smiling as chorus of cheers and suprised faces welcomed him, everyone was ecstatic to new founded news

Henry and his wife hugged him first giving the sign that they allow it, his parents came second and lastly his sister with a champagne bottle in hand

"You got this Daniel!" Michelle encouraged his older brother, as she popped off the champagne's lid, everyone was celebrating, they are different people with different minds but right now they have only one thought that:

(Y/n) will say yes.

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"This dorm was once a madhouse", I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"

(Y/n) had a history with mental illness, especially Depression, it started when she was still in highschool with people bullying her because of her fame, it only worsen when her first boyfriend died in a car accident.

And Daniel knew of everything, he made her feel better again and he tried everything to make her comfortable for her.

But the only downfall of Daniel knowing this was sometimes he uses her mental health problems to reason with her during their fights...

"You're just being coo-coo of this, you're making it a big deal!"

"Because it is Daniel, for goodness sake, you are literally flirting with her!"

"what?!, That's just your stupid mental illness acting up"

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And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls, that we once walked through

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I never was ready, so I watch you go, sometimes you just don't know the answer til someone's on their knees and asks you

(Y/n) walked out of the villa, crying her heart out, she didn't mean to leave Daniel all alone there, but marrying someone was not her priority right now, she wants to just mainly focus on her career and her 3 year old son

"I'm such a fucking idiot" (Y/n) cursed as she entered her car and drove off to a nearby park, she hopped out of the car and heads to a bench there, fortunately the park was quite empty it was only populated with people going on a run and some elderly couple who wants to breathe some fresh air

Fresh air is what she also needed at this moment, she sighed as tears continued to flow to her now ruby red cheeks, as she calmed down, her mind decided to contemplate on the things that happened earlier

It wasn't her fault that she couldn't bare to be someone's wife right now, she was strating to sail smoothly in life after the bumpy road she had to endure on those years before meeting Daniel, she's only starting to romanticize life at this moment, she was shocked that Daniel even planned to do this even though he knew what her plans in life was

And even she hates to admit it, their relationship is falling apart from broken trust and gaslighting.

She sighed deeply, she was trying to calm her heart as she got up from the bench and she drove off to a nearby secluded hotel she could find, she just couldn't stand Daniel's face right now

A few hours later, (Y/n) was staying on a hotel located on the south of France, she scrolled through her social media to distract herself and she decided to post a video that has the song she listens to right now

Little did she know, it would cost turmoils and thousands of tweets and posts through social media

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She would've made such a lovely bride, What a shame she's fucked in the head" they said

February 15, 2023, 2 months after the proposal

It has been 2 months after Daniel's Proposal, and it also has been 2 months that every friend of Daniel is angry with (Y/n) for what she did, from his childhood friends to his formula 1 buddies.

I mean they couldn't deny that they loved the actress, key word loved , but after what she did they couldn't see her the same way, they were perfect for each other, a couple that love eachother very much, but behind closed doors the Australian F1 driver and the actress wouldn't also deny that their relationship was falling apart

Rooting from when Daniel started blaming her for some things he did, like as simple as him accidentally dropping a glass which he blamed (Y/n) for bugging him and making him do that.

Another one was when (Y/n) cancelled her date with Daniel just for her to hangout with an old friend that she once had a relationship with, trust was broken from that.

However despite their relationship falling apart, Daniel doesn't have a nerve to say the truth to his friends as even listening to them saying

"She would be the perfect girl or even bride for you but she fucked it up, just cause she's supposedly has 'depression' "

"she doesn't deserve you, spoiled ass mentally ill woman"

He feels like shit to not do anything, he loved you, and he should've slayed the demons hunting your brain but he didn't, he just went what his stupid friends say to you.

(men)

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But you'll find the real thing instead, she'll patch up your tapestry that I shred

August 27, 2023, 9 months after the split

f1updates

liked by zild90, danbadger and 367,908 others

f1updates ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo confirms new relationship with actress and daughter of former F1 driver Gerhard Berger, Heidi Berger, they were seen outside of a cafe accompanied by Daniel's parents. congrats to the new couple!

view all 87,058 comments

schecorn‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ YOW WTF, imagine moving on from a 7 year relationship in a span of 9 months

danrev‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ isn't (Y/n)'s fault that they fallen out because she refused to be wedded with him, I don't see a problem of him moving on from that

schecorn‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ umm chill anyways so

lewroe44‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ew, booo, bro be moving on and (Y/n) be still having an hiatus because of him🖕

schumachermi‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ idk if I should be happy for Daniel or cry for (Y/n) #divorcedparentsproblems

chrls16‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ IM SO HAPPY HE LOOKS SO HAPPY MY GOSH

yutsuly ‎ ‎ MF YOU HAD A KID WITH A WOMAN YOU HAD BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP FOR OVER 7 YEARS BRO WTF

schecorn‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ exactly like bruv

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You won't remember all my champagne problems

December 15, 2024, a year after the proposal

your.username

liked by danielricciardo, parishilton and 2,308,956 others

your.username ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ living my best life with you 💐

view all 32,058 comments

parishilton‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ sevi is so cute, auntie misses you!

liked by creator!

y/nontop‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ HOLD ON DID DANIEL LIKES (Y/N)'S POST WTF

mureli‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ maybe he's liking it for sevi??

gaslytsu‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ SO CUTE

It has been a year after the proposal that happened with the former ex couple, (Y/n) Sy and Daniel Ricciardo, they didn't even tried to disclose what happened to them and have a closure but maybe they were busy with other things, Daniel with his F1 career and clothing line and (Y/n) being an actress and raising their kid

They only had to interact with each other in the sake of their son, Sevi, Daniel wanted to address what happened but was afraid to just worsen the fire that happened.

Daniel only chose to admire (Y/n) and his son from afar, he will always support them and he knew she always support him too.

[formula-ghost]

The Driver (FC43 x fem!reader)

SUMMARY: After years of being with your boyfriend, Franco Colapinto, you should feel secure and ready for your budding future. When old anxieties creep in, will your relationship withstand the pressure?

WORD COUNT: 9.5k 

WARNINGS: Semi-public car sex (reader and Franco are both switches, fingering, p in v). Angst, mentions of cheating. Heavy mentions of marriage, incredibly Champagne Problems coded but I have to stick to the Måneskin theme. Probably incorrect geographical depictions of Spain. Reader has an anxiety disorder/struggles with mental health. Same universe as Supermodel/RYD (in RYD, Franco’s Aston Martin contract is only one year, so we’re just skipping ahead here). 

A/N: You all asked for Franco car sex and instead I gave you emotional pain :) I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing for RYD!Franco, I just love him too much. After this I’ll keep writing for Wildflower and then maybe do a few one shots before the next series perhaps? Either way, hope you enjoy!

TAGLIST: [COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO MY FRANCO TAGLIST!]  @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @uncreativetm  @ncrsbrg @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle @aliwritex

If you gonna set fire to the night, baby let me be the lighter

If you’re already high and you wanna fly, I’ll be the hit that takes you higher

If you wanna love when you touch the sky, you can be my midnight rider

If there’s nowhere to go when you wanna go wild, I wanna be the driver

After getting his first multi-year Formula 1 contract—complete with a hefty sign-on bonus—there were three things that Franco Colapinto needed to buy. 

The first was a house for his parents. 

He led his mother around the massive home, showing her every little detail that he had noticed when he chose it, all perfectly arranged according to her taste. At first, she wasn’t sure what her son was doing; he had wanted it to be a surprise, so he didn’t tell her anything. 

“Yes, Franquito, the home is beautiful,” she said, craning her neck to look at the high ceilings, the sunlight from the massive windows illuminating her face. “But why would you buy a house here in Argentina? You’re hardly ever home, you can just stay with us in the off season.”

Franco, like his mother, was a pragmatist. He’d never buy himself a mansion in Argentina unless he had retired from F1 and decided to settle down. But his career was just getting started. 

She continued, “I mean, you and YN don’t need this much space—”

“It’s not for us, Mami,” he said, finally letting loose the smile that he’d be fighting all day. He was never able to keep secrets, too much of a chatterbox. “It’s for you.”

“Franco—”

“Mami,” he said, already anticipating her hesitation. “It is the least I can do. I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

“That’s my job. You don’t need to repay me.”

“Maybe I don’t need to, but I want to.”

Tears had begun to well up in his mother’s eyes. She knew it was impossible to stop him. It was every athlete’s dream to make enough money to buy their mother a house one day; she wouldn’t take that from him.  “I’m so proud of you, mijo,” he said, enveloping her son in her arms. “You have made me proud beyond measure.”

It was Franco’s turn now to tear up, though he blinked them away and smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I figured something was up,” she laughed, “this house is too much my style for you to buy it. I think YN would like it, though. How is she doing?”

“She’s good,” he answered, unsure of how to proceed. His mother let him pause, knowing he was about to say something. “I’m… thinking about asking her to marry me.”

“Oh, wonderful!” she replied, her smile now stretching ear to ear. 

“We haven’t talked about it yet, though. So don’t get your hopes up. She might not say yes.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” his mother questioned. “You’ve been together for years, through thick and thin.”

“I don’t know,” he said, scratching the back of his neck in nervousness. “We just…haven’t talked about it. I’m nervous.”

“Well, don’t ask her until you’ve talked about it. But I see no reason why she’d say no.” She reached out to smooth over a piece of his hair that was stuck up at an odd angle. “Take your time,” she continued. “If you all aren’t ready now, there’s no harm in waiting. You have the entire rest of your lives to be together.”

Franco gave her a weak smile, his expression still plastered with nervousness. “But when you do get married,” she continued, as if it was a fact, “I expect grandbabies.”

He laughed, despite knowing that she was dead serious. That would be a bridge to cross later.

For now, he had a second purchase to make: his first real car. 

Franco, despite being a Formula 1 driver, had always been down to earth. When he drove for Williams, they had to fight him over taking the bus every day. Even in his early days, his future had been too unstable to spend all his hard-earned money on something like a flashy car, especially since he’d be away so often that he’d hardly be able to use it.

But now, he knew that the time was right, and he’d more than earned it. So, when Franco woke you up at the crack of dawn to go to the luxury dealership in Madrid to pick up his new car the second that they opened, you obliged him despite the hour being far too early. 

As the salesman handed him the keys, Franco beamed as if he was holding his newborn child, his eyes wide with love and anticipation.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, running his hands up and down along the hood of the flashy luxury car.

You stood back, afraid to even touch this car that was more expensive than your net worth. 

“She’s perfect. She’s the most perfect car I’ve ever seen.” He looked up at you, smiling like a giddy child. “Isn’t she perfect?”

You smiled back, amused by Franco’s happiness. “It certainly is a nice car.”

“It’s not just a nice car. She’s a machine.” You chuckled back at him. “Let’s go for a ride.”

You were honestly a little scared of getting in the car. But when Franco crossed over to open your door for you and help you inside, you couldn’t tell him no.

Sitting inside, you had to admit that it was a really nice car. Franco yapped on about the technical abilities of the engine, but it was in one ear and out the other—despite his many years in F1, you couldn’t say you had learned anything about the machines that your longtime boyfriend drove for a living. But you loved to hear him talk, especially when he was this happy, so you nodded as if you were listening intently. 

Franco went to back up the car, putting his hand on your headrest and leaning over his shoulder. The move showed off his prominent muscles and instantly melted you. Even after all these years, it was the little things that you never got tired of. 

He sped along the highways, giggling to himself as he heard the engine rev and felt the smoothness of the ride. His smile never wavered as he increased his speed and weaved through the slower cars. 

He skipped the exit that would lead back to your home, though. “Where are we going?” you asked.

“I want to show you something,” he said, being intentionally vague with his intentions. 

You raised an eyebrow. Franco wasn’t one for surprises; he talked too damn much to ever keep them. If he hadn’t told you before now, it must be something serious. 

He moved his hand over to hold your thigh, another one of those little things he did that still made you crazy no matter how many times he did it. “Trust me, amor,” he said.

Of course, you trusted him. So when he exited the highway and began driving into the Spanish countryside, you said nothing, instead choosing to enjoy the feeling of his hand rubbing soft circles into your thigh as the trees blurred past you and the engine purred.

After a while he finally slowed his speed, bringing the car up to an empty overlook off the main road. Through the tinted windows, you could see that this place was hidden, nestled off by the trees so that you could only get here if you knew where you were going. The view was gorgeous; miles and miles of lush greenery, and in the far off distance, the city that you had just left. 

“Wow..” you whispered. “How’d you find this place?”

“I used to run on these roads out here when I was younger,” he said, admiring you as you admired the view. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“I don’t get to come here much anymore,” he said. “I never thought I’d come back here one day as a Formula 1 driver.”

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. His face had the slightest tinge of blush, so subtle that only you could see it. 

“Come on, let’s get a good look,” he said, turning off the engine and opening his door.

You got out of the car and softly gasped again when you saw the view with your own two eyes, rather than through the tinted glass. It left you breathless.

You sat cross legged next to Franco on the grass, taking in the sights of the countryside around you. For a while you were quiet, just soaking in the sounds of nature. 

Then Franco broke the calmness. “Have you ever thought about getting married?”

His voice was soft, but his words startled you. “Married?”

“I mean, we’ve been together for a while. About time, no?”

Truthfully, you had thought about marriage quite a bit. The mere idea of it scared you. And talking about it scared you even more. 

“You sound enthusiastic,” you joked. 

“You know what I mean.” He looked down, clearly also nervous for this momentous discussion. Still, he kept his voice light and steady. “I love you. I can’t think of anyone else I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“I’d hope not,” you chuckled. But your attempts at diffusing the tension with humor failed.

He adopted a more serious tone. “YN, I want to marry you,” he said. His eyes looked up to meet yours, and for some reason, you felt your heart drop into your stomach. “I’m not proposing right now, but it’s something we should start thinking and talking about.”

You looked out into the distance and took a shaky breath. Why was this so difficult?

“So, talk to me, amor,” he said. 

“You want to marry me?” you asked, your voice small and squeaky.

“Of course I do,” he replied, brushing your hair out of your face. Now there were no barriers between you. “You’re the love of my life.”

You wanted to cry. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so…final. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then we work through it, like we always do.” He was right. Your relationship with Franco had certainly had its rocky patches, but he treated you like a queen. You two overcame every obstacle, including your own mind that often worked against you. You often felt like you didn’t deserve someone so patient and kind. 

“Things change when you get married.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m not saying any of this lightly. I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Even after years of loving him, it still surprised you whenever Franco told you that he thought of you. You could never get used to existing in his head when you physically weren’t there.

“What do you think about?” you asked, moving closer to him.

He reached his arm around your waist, resting his hand on your hip. “I think about you, in a white dress. We’d be in the church in Argentina.” You knew the one. He’d gone there growing up, and had shown it to you several times when you went to visit his family. “And we’d have a ridiculous party, into the morning,” he said smiling, leaning his head down closer to you. “And, a while after that, maybe a few months or a year or so, you’d be eating for two.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop your eyes from watering. “That sounds…”

“Perfect?”

No. You were going to say real. That sounds real. And it scared you. 

Truthfully, you could imagine the wedding, and the babies, and the many happy years of being Franco’s wife.

But you could also imagine the distance. The exhaustion. The bitterness. 

“Growing up, I never thought I’d get married,” you said, shifting the conversation. “I just… I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to marry me,” you laughed. 

“I do,” he said. The effect of his words weren’t lost on you; the same words he would say to take the vow. “I want to marry you.”

You had told him a long time ago that your insecurities weren’t something he could fix. He remembered that, and he respected it. But still, it always broke his heart when he realized that even after years of loving you, those old wounds refused to heal. 

“Why?” you asked. Your head was beginning to hurt from holding in all the tears. 

“Why?” he echoed, incredulous at why you’d even need to ask such a ridiculous question. His voice held no malice, though. “Because I love you.”

“Don’t you get tired of this?”

“Of what?”

“Of…me being difficult for no good reason?”

“You’re not being difficult. Marriage is a huge deal, obviously. I don’t want us to rush into it if you’re not ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

He sighed. “Then…well, honestly, that would break my heart. I’d want you to work through whatever is holding you back. But I’d be with you every step of the way.”

You looked away into the distance. Part of you wanted to run and disappear in the thick foliage of the Spanish countryside. The other part of you wanted to bury your head in Franco’s chest, finally letting go of all the reservations that had haunted you for years. 

You knew Franco. You loved Franco. You trusted Franco.

So why were you still so afraid?

“Mi amor,” he said, gently guiding your head so you had to look at him. “Do you want to get married?” He tilted his head closer to you. 

You knew what he was asking. Not if you were ready right now, not if you were scared; but deep down, in your heart of hearts, did you want to marry Franco Colapinto?

“Yes,” you whispered. Just as he didn’t have to explain, neither did you. He knew what you meant; yes, but I’m scared. Yes, but I’m not ready. Yes, but I’m afraid I’ll never be ready.

He brought his lips to yours, gently kissing you as you let the few tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally go. When he pulled back, he wiped them away.

“We don’t have to make a decision now,” he said. “We’ve got time. I want us both to be ready.”

You kissed him again, this time more forceful. There was nothing sexier than a man with emotional intelligence. 

He pulled away again to finish his thought. “Just keep thinking on it, okay? We can talk about it as much as you want.”

“Okay,” you said, smiling as he looked at you.

“What?” he asked, his own playful smile dancing across his face.

“You’re so hot when you respect my boundaries.”

He laughed. “Mi amor, that’s the bare minimum.”

“Keep going,” you joked, “I’m so close.”

“Don’t say that,” he said, leaning down to kiss your neck. “I’ll start misbehaving.”

“Maybe I want you to,” he said, sharply inhaling as he gently bit the skin on your neck, sure to leave a mark.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he nibbled on your earlobe. 

“Get me home and show me how horrible I am, then,” you teased, reaching out to touch his waist. 

“We don’t even need to get home.” He reached up to hold your neck with one hand as he continued kissing up and down your jaw.

“Here?” you said, darting your eyes around. 

“In the car,” he said, his voice already getting breathy. 

“No,” you urged. “It’s new.”

“Exactly. We have to break it in, no? Or bless it,” he said. His hands were beginning to roam underneath the hem of your shirt now.

“You’d never forgive me if I messed up the seats.”

“They’re leather, it cleans easy. I can get it detailed.” He stifled your next complaint with a deep kiss. “No one is ever around here. And the windows are tinted,” he whispered into your mouth. 

You laughed. “You’re a freak.”

“I’m your freak. And don’t lie, you love it,” he said, snaking his hand down to tease its way under your skirt. “I can tell how much you love it.”

You stopped him before his hand could go any further—after all, you were technically still in public. 

“Get in the car, whore,” you joked, before Franco hopped up and nearly sprinted to open the car door and set his seat back as far as it could go. 

He sat in the seat and patted his lap. “You joining me?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, getting up to meet your lover at the car and carefully climb onto his lap, occupying his lips with a deep kiss that he moaned into. 

“Did you plan this?” you asked. 

“Plan what?” he said, a devilish grin across his face. 

“Bringing me out to your scenic spot to fuck me in your new sports car?”

“Wasn’t planned at all. I’m a spontaneous man.”

“Mhm. How many other girls did you bring here before we started dating?”

“Less talking, more fucking, yeah?” he said. You probably didn’t want to know the answer. But that was all in the past. Franco was yours—he had been for years now, and he wanted to be yours forever.

There would be time to think about that later. Right now, all you could think about was the beautiful boy sitting beneath you, looking at you as if he needed you as simply as he needed air. You could feel him hardening beneath you. 

You shifted your weight to straddle him, grinding down on his length, eliciting a sharp exhale from him. 

“You’re so needy today, Franco,” you said as you ran your fingers through his soft curls.

“I’m always needy for you.” He brought his lips back to yours, hungry for the taste of you. His lips trailed down to your jaw and neck. “YN, you don’t know what you do to me…”

“I think I can feel it,” you joked, softly grinding your clothed pussy over the growing bulge in his jeans. 

“Don’t tease me,” he begged, roaming his hands up the hem of your blouse.

“But it’s so fun,” you said, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “I love to see you fall apart underneath me.”

“Fuck, YN—”

“Less talking, more fucking, no?” you said, mocking his statement from earlier. You met his mouth in a kiss, and he moved his hands down under your skirt, running up and down the soft skin of your thighs. When he finally teased his fingers over the wet spot that was already growing in your panties, you softly inhaled, showing your desire for him. 

“I’m not the only needy one,” he teased, breathing in the smell of your perfume and shampoo, his head buried in your neck. 

You softly moaned as he moved your panties to the side and began circling his fingers around your clit. 

“Franco, fuck…”

“What happened to all that talk, huh? Or are you too busy trying not to cum on my fingers?”

All you could do was breathe as his fingers found their way inside of you, pumping in and out to prepare you for his cock. 

“Don’t try to stop it,” he said, “let go. Cum for me.”

You obeyed, your legs shaking as your walls pulsated on his fingers. You whimpered into his neck, steadying yourself by holding him. 

He kissed your cheek, but wasted no time in unzipping his jeans and plunging into you while you rode out the waves of your orgasm. He let out a breathy moan as he felt the sweet warmth of you wrapped around him. 

You were overcome with sensation; the burn of his cock stretching you out, the last dregs of pleasure now mixed with the pain, and the burn in your legs from sitting in the same position for too long.

It was all the more motivation to bounce up and down on his cock, finding a steady rhythm as he guided his hands to your hips.

You rested your head next to his, moaning into his ear with every thrust. The small space of the car may be cramped, but you couldn’t help but appreciate the intimacy of the moment. Franco’s eyes were closed in sensual bliss, his breath ragged as you increased your speed.

You wanted to watch him come undone from the sinful pleasure that your pussy brought him. 

“YN—” he moaned, his hands digging hard enough into your hips to leave bruises, “Oh, God, YN, you always feel so fucking good. So good for me.”

You whimpered from both the praise and the pleasure. You had to slow down—the fast stamina was too much on your legs, which were now burning from the awkward position you were stuck in. 

“I think you were made for me,” Franco whispered. “And I was made for you. See how well we fit together?” He took control, lifting you up as if you were weightless and bouncing you up and down on his own. You yelped at first, then your surprise gave way to bliss as you both chased your release. 

But Franco was relentless in his praise. “You’re my fucking soulmate. I wanna fuck you every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Franco, I’m so close—”

“Cum for me, mi amor. Again.” His own voice was strangled with desire, so close to his own peak.

With a high pitched whine, you obeyed, and the heavenly feeling of your walls contracted around him brought your lover to the edge soon after. 

And when you did both finish, you held each other, too tired to even move from the uncomfortable position from the car. 

Franco was a talker. You always knew that. He loved nothing more than to fill your ears with sweet nothings when you made love. But the context of the conversation that just transpired weighed on you, even with the comfort of Franco’s hands rubbing small circles into your back as you both tried to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asked, and you murmured in response, unable to form any coherent words in the aftermath of everything. “Let’s get home and we can take a shower, yeah?”

A warm shower sounded heavenly right now. You awkwardly shimmied your way into the passenger seat and took one last look at the view, thankful that the overlook was still deserted. You sighed as you settled in and buckled your seatbelt, relishing the relief of finally being able to stretch your legs. 

“Hey,” Franco asked as he readjusted his seat and turned on the car. “Are you okay, really?”

“Yeah,” you said. It was true; you were exhausted, overwhelmed, and hurting, but it was all worth it for him. 

He leaned over to kiss your cheek and smiled before putting the car in reverse. 

The third item that Franco had to buy was the ring. 

Truthfully, the conversation hadn’t gone as smoothly as he would have liked. In his dreams, you'd jumped for joy when he’d broached the subject, and you’d live happily ever after.

But despite his disappointment, he understood your hesitancy. He was just as afraid to ask the question as you were to say yes. He knew that your struggles with self esteem and anxiety were lifelong. He knew all this about you from the very beginning, and he loved you anyway. 

Still, it was times like this when it broke his heart that he couldn’t fix it. 

It didn’t matter. You’d come around eventually, you always did. And you had been honest when you said you wanted to marry him—there was just a lot of stuff in the way, mentally and emotionally. 

So yes, he’d wait a while before he popped the question. But that didn’t mean he had to wait to buy the ring. 

He knew the exact one. You had fallen in love with it years ago, when you had worn it in a PR shoot for one of his high profile sponsors. Though time had passed, he still remembered the sadness in your eyes when you had to give it back after the photoshoot. He had vowed to himself that day that he’d earn enough to get you that ring.

And now he finally had. 

A few days after your conversation, he found the now faded card that he had stuck in his wallet and called the number. When the same brand rep picked up, he exhaled, letting go of his fear.

“Franco! How nice to hear from you. I was beginning to think we’d scared you away.”

“No,” he laughed. “The opposite, actually.”

“Let me guess. You’re ready for that ring?”

‘How’d you know?”

“I’ve been doing this a long time. When a woman looks at a ring like that, and she’s with a man that truly loves her, it’s just a matter of time.”

He had swiped another ring of yours to get the measurements, and he completed the entire order over the phone on his drive back home from a day of pre-season meetings. He had three months before the beginning of the new season, and he wanted to propose before that so you could start wedding planning once the season started. Would three months be enough time for you to think about it? He didn’t know. 

But he couldn’t wait any longer. The giddiness was eating him alive. 

You could tell something was amiss, but the idea of a proposal was the last thing on your mind. 

Franco was hiding his phone from you. Which meant that Franco was hiding something important from you, and he was doing a horrible job of it. 

Your lover was never the type to be quiet or secretive about…anything really. He talked too much. You had to physically restrain him every Christmas from spoiling what he got you weeks in advance. So if there was something that he was truly trying to hide, it was something major. 

And it scared you. 

The thought that you had been holding back for years finally broke through one night where he put his phone face down at the dinner table after his phone lit up with several notifications. 

“Who’s texting you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice innocent despite the rush of dread that was rising in your stomach.

“No one,” he answered, too quickly for your liking. You didn’t respond. 

You knew Franco was attractive. Every girl would kill to have him. He was kind, funny, beautiful, and flirtatious. But he was yours. Right?

Franco had never crossed the line before. You trusted him with your life. But something within you just felt deeply, deeply wrong, and it came spilling out later that night when he tried to touch you. 

His phone was left on the nightstand, untouched since dinner; his focus was on you, running his hand up and down your side, gently dressing his lips to your shoulder as you faced away from him.

“Not tonight,” you whispered, unable to keep your voice from shaking. 

“All you alright, mi amor?” he asked, pulling back your shoulder to make you face him, seeing how you were desperately trying to keep the tears at bay. 

“I’m fine,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek.

Even after all your years together, Franco never quite knew when to press on and when to keep quiet when you said those two infamous words. And he didn’t have much time to think, because you rose from the bed and left the room, mumbling about needing a minute to get fresh air. 

You stepped onto the back porch and took a deep breath, steadying your heart rate and calming your nerves, if only for a moment. The night air was serene; you felt vile contaminating the peace with your anxiety.

Would this last forever? You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t felt this push and pull. You wanted to tell Franco to go, to relieve himself of the burden of your mental illness. You wanted to bottle up every insecurity, every doubt, every negative thought into a vault that you didn’t share with anyone. 

But you couldn’t. If Franco left you’d be broken. You couldn’t stop yourself from letting these thoughts and fears control you. In the past, therapy had helped, but you knew this was a weight you’d always have to carry. And that made you miserable. 

So yes, maybe it was for the better that Franco move on, find someone better, more stable, and build a life with her. 

“Mi amor?”

Franco’s voice broke your hopeless contemplation. 

“Talk to me,” he said. 

You just shook your head. He must be so tired of reassuring you, endlessly, knowing that it didn’t help one bit. 

“YN,” he urged, “you know I don’t like it when you try to shoulder everything alone.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. That was all you could say. “I’m sorry that I’m like this.”

“Like what?”

“Impossible.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean. We have the same conversation over and over again. Don’t you get tired of it? Of having to reassure me and it never helping? Of me crying over every little thing? Franco, I’m a mess!”

“YN…” he sighed, “When have I ever said any of that?”

He was right. He had never expressed any frustration regarding your mental struggles. He had always been there when you needed him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Have you just been up in your head, or did something happen?”

You contemplated lying, but you knew better. “You set your phone face down at dinner.”

“I— did you think I was…?”

“It’s not you, Franco. It’s never you. That’s the worst part. You have to deal with all of this and it’s not your fault at all,” you said, not even allowing him to say aloud what you both knew was true. 

Franco took a deep breath. “YN,” he said, calmly, “let’s go back inside and go through my phone.”

“No—”

“Yes,” he commanded. “I want you to be 100% confident that I love you and only you.”

“Franco—”

“Let’s go.”

He had a firmness in his voice that only made your anxiety worse, and immediately you felt horrible for even insinuating anything to the opposite. But he was your rock of reason in times like these when your anxiety took over, and so you followed his command, unlocking his phone when he handed it to you. 

As expected, there was no incriminating evidence, just far too many unopened emails and messages left on delivered. Even his recently deleted texts showed nothing. 

The buzzing that you had been so afraid of turning out to be…emails from a jewelry company?

“I ordered a custom necklace for your birthday,” Franco explained. “They’ve been so difficult, though. They lost the order and then sent me the wrong thing. It’s been hell.”

You handed back the phone with your head hung low, ashamed. “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“You know I would have ruined it beforehand anyway,” he said. “I’m not upset at you.”

“You should be. You deserve someone who trusts you.”

“You do trust me,” he said, “I know you do. It’s not you that’s saying this.” 

Fuck. Franco really did know you too well. 

“You know why I stay with you, even with all this?” You looked up at him, curious for the answer. He had never been this direct before. He continued, “Well, first of all, because I love you. But even during times when I’m frustrated, I remember everything we’ve been through, when you forgave me and were there for me when I didn’t deserve it. I was so close to losing you and it terrified me.”

Once again, your eyes were watering. He said, “I promised myself that if you really gave me a chance, I’d never forget it. I’d be there for you and be the best boyfriend I could be. Because…” he paused, searching for the right words, “I know that some of why you feel these things is because of how I acted in the past. I’ve done my best to make it right, but some things never leave you.”

“When did you become so damn wise?” you said, laughing through the tears as he smiled and wiped them away. 

“You bring out the best in me.”

The conversation was laid to rest then. Franco held you until you fell asleep, safe in his arms. As he heard your soft breaths even out, he grabbed his phone and frantically searched for a necklace to buy to cover his lie.

He hated lying to you, but in this case, what else was he to do?

The necklace and the ring arrived a few weeks later, right before you all were scheduled to take a flight to Buenos Aires to spend the rest of the break with his family. 

But he had a plan. The break in Buenos Aires would be one to remember—for your “birthday” he was also flying out your friends and family for a few days. He had the whole idea plotted out, with help from many others, to plan a surprise karting birthday celebration, with all your loved ones there. Then, he would propose.

It seemed so perfect—surrounded by all your loved ones, doing a fun activity, the perfect balance between public and private. He knew you’d love it. He knew you’d say yes. 

He was giddy as he carefully packed the two jewelry boxes in his luggage, surrounded by clothes for safe keeping. 

And as the day of the birthday party came closer and closer, he could barely hold in his excitement. Everyone knew but you; he had colluded with every guest, telling them his plan and getting their blessing to finally ask you to spend the rest of your life with him.

Everything was perfect. The day before, you parents and friends arrived, and Franco told you everything but the grand reveal. 

He gave you the present, a beautiful necklace that complimented your tastes perfectly. You split a bottle of wine amongst loved ones, and your parents brought out their own gift: a photo album of pictures that they’d never been able to show Franco. 

You cringed at the embarrassing baby photos and records of bad middle school haircuts, but you couldn’t help the tipsy smile on your face. You leaned your head on Franco’s shoulder as he flipped through the pages.

Franco’s mother got out her own photo albums, showing picture after picture of him as a baby, his blonde curls and toothy grin smiling from ear to ear. 

“You were such a cute baby,” you giggled, and he blushed.

“Were? I’m still a cute baby,” he joked, kissing you on the cheek.  You scrunched your nose and smiled.

You were so in love with this man that it hurt.

That night, when you all retired to your room, he rubbed your back, enjoying the simple quiet between you two.

“I love you,” you said to him out of the blue. He smiled; he said those words often, and you always said them back, but it was rarer, more meaningful, for you to say them unprompted. 

“But it’s not fair. You were a cute baby and you’re cute now. You can’t have both,” you giggled. 

“We’d make cute babies,” he teased, and you blushed. 

“You trying to find out?” you responded, the alcohol in your veins giving you more boldness.

“Not when you’re this tipsy,” he said. “Besides, I need to put a ring on your finger first.”

At the mention of marriage, you sobered up quickly. You hadn’t really been thinking about that conversation you’d had back in Spain—in fact, every time you thought about it, it just made you more anxious, so it had the opposite effect of you actively avoiding it. 

Of course, you were still scared. You loved Franco more than words could say, and that was the problem—it was so good that eventually, it would have to not be good. It was a backwards logic, yes, you had convinced yourself that at some point, things would only be able to go down. 

You didn’t want to lose this beautiful thing you had created. But Franco had said he wasn’t planning to propose any time soon, right? In your mind, you still had plenty of time. 

But Franco did not, and the next morning was chaos.

His phone was blowing up with last minute organizing and words of encouragement from your friends and family in the proposal plan group chat. He was sweating bullets, constantly checking his pockets before you all left for the kart track to make sure that yes, he had the ring. He contemplated putting it in his bag instead, but he didn’t want to lose it, so he ultimately settled on his pockets.

He knew that he needed to stop checking them or else you’d notice and ask. You were always observant, in that way. 

But every time he sat down, the stupid box kept falling out of his shorts. The pockets were too small. He’d just have to check one last time before he left the house and be careful. Yes, everything was going to go according to plan. 

And as you all arrived and he changed into his race suit quickly, all he could think about was the speech he had tried to memorize. You were a woman who appreciated words; he wanted to express how you made him feel, but in his head, he kept stumbling over them. 

YN, you make me so happy. No, too simple.

YN, will you make me the happiest man in the world? No, too cliche.

YN, I never knew happiness until I saw your smile. No, too melodramatic. 

He’d have to figure out the words as he said them. For now, he’d just focus on enjoying the moment with you. 

And that wasn’t hard; you were as giddy as a child as you sped around the track, spinning out and pushing the poor kart to go faster and faster. 

Franco had arranged a tournament of sorts; of course, he had spoken with everyone beforehand to rig you as the winner. 

On your end, you knew everyone was letting you win. You were awful at karting. But it was your birthday event, after all. You didn’t care, you were having fun. 

It came down to the “championship” battle: you versus Franco. Of course, you knew your boyfriend would let you win, as he always did, but you loved the rush of adrenaline as the wind whipped past you anyway. You couldn’t stop smiling as you crossed the finish line and took off your helmet, flipping your hair out. 

You heard Franco stop his car behind you and get out, too. 

“I can’t believe YN won!” Franco’s mother said, smiling wide. 

“Thank you all for so graciously giving me that win,” you joked, looking to all your family and friends circled round, cheering for you. Franco was behind you still. You almost turned to him, but his mother interrupted. “Let me take a picture!”

This was the moment. All he had to do was take the ring out of his pocket and get down on one knee. 

He reached in his pocket and pulled out… nothing. 

His pockets were empty. 

He looked back at his father, the fear of God in his eyes, and patted his empty pockets. No one said a word. 

His mother, now done with taking the picture, leaned over to give you a hug. She sent a death glare to Franco over your shoulder, but still gave him the time to sprint back to the locker room to try and find the goddamn thing. 

He ran faster than his F1 car could drive, cursing under his breath at how stupid he could be. He could still save this, though. 

He found his bag and shook out the contents, frantically searching, until finally, at the bottom of the bag, he saw the box. He must have stuck it there while changing and forgot about it.

He let out a breath with enough power to shake the entire building. He opened the box to get a quick glance just to make sure everything was okay.

Except, everything wasn’t. There was no ring in the box.

He had grabbed the empty necklace box. 

Knowing you were far enough away to not hear him, he sweared very, very loudly. Unbeknownst to Franco, his father had followed him back to the locker room.

“Did you find it, mijo?” 

“I brought the wrong box,” he said, “This is for the necklace.”

His father sighed. “Franco…”

“I know, I know.”

“We can still fix this. Give her the ring at dinner!”

“I guess I’ll have to,” Franco said. He had never been more disappointed in himself. He had ruined everything. 

“Hey,” his father said, “chin up. You’ve still got this. The ring will be the perfect end to the perfect day, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, still not entirely convinced. But you would be wondering where he went soon; he couldn’t stay and mope too long.

His father left him to go relay the information to the rest of the group. Franco took a few deep breaths as he changed, mentally readying himself to see you again. He put on a smile as he saw you waiting for him outside the track with the others. 

“So, we’ll all head back and get ready, then meet for dinner tonight?” his mother said.

“Sounds good,” Franco answered, wrapping his arm around you as he walked you back to the car. 

Thankfully, when you got back to his parent’s house, you immediately wanted to take a shower and wash your hair, giving him time to search the entire room. Which he did, from top to bottom, and he still couldn’t find the ring.

It was just…gone. He had gone through every compartment of his suitcase, every pocket in his clothes, every hiding space. Still, it was nowhere to be found. 

His parents even helped him look, carefully parsing through every possible place until it was too late. You were nearly ready for dinner, and they all had to rush to get ready to make it to the restaurant in time for the reservation. 

Franco texted the groupchat the horrible news—he had fucked up. He had lost the ring. There would be no proposal. 

Kind words flooded his phone, but they meant nothing to the depressed Argentine. He had planned this out so perfectly; how did it end so badly?

And the worst part? He couldn’t even tell you. 

The atmosphere at dinner was more somber than usual. His sister had bought a bottle of nice champagne that would now have to go unopened. He would just have to propose some other time.

That’s what he reminded himself, every time the thought came up and threatened to choke him. Maybe next time he would fly his family out to Spain instead. He wasn’t in any rush. And you’d never have to know how badly he fumbled. 

Well, while you didn’t know the details, you could tell something was up. You mentioned it to Franco on the way home.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, and Franco cringed internally. He was always bad about hiding his emotions. 

“No, I’m fine,” he answered. 

“Well, everyone at dinner just seemed…off.”

“Probably just tired.”

You just hummed to yourself, refusing to allow your thoughts to wander any further. You, too, were tired. When you got back to the house, you both started to get undressed, taking off your fancy heels and jewelry.

You took off your necklace—the beautiful gift that Franco had given you, that you’d now treasure forever—but the box wasn’t on the nightstand where you had left it yesterday.

“Franco, have you seen my necklace box?” you asked from the bedroom. He was in the bathroom washing his face, and only barely heard you over the running of water. The mention of the box just made the whole night worse.

“Yeah, it’s in my bag,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow. How had your necklace box ended up there?

You leaned down to his bag, rustling around until you found the familiar box, though it was heavier than you remembered. 

When you opened it, you were nearly blinded by the glint of a beautiful diamond engagement ring. 

It was familiar; the same ring you had fallen in love with years ago. And it was in Franco’s bag. He had…bought you an engagement ring.

He was going to propose.

You could feel your heart rate increasing by the second. But you weren’t ready. You had only talked about it a few weeks ago. You were scared. 

It was okay, though. It was okay. You would just put the ring back. You’d find a way to hint to him that it wasn’t the right time. You could just fake it. He’d never have to—

“YN?”

You looked up at Franco’s face, widened with shock. You didn’t respond.

“Where did you find that?”

“In your bag.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I—” Franco was too stunned to speak. You quickly closed the box and put it back in the bag.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything. This never happened,” you said, your voice rapidly talking without even thinking. You got up to leave the room, too anxious to stay seated, talking to yourself even after you were out of earshot of your lover.

Franco sat on the bed and sighed. Now he had majorly fucked up. First of all, how had no one found the ring in his bag, even after 3 people looked in there? And second of all, how did you find it?

But that wasn’t the biggest issue anymore. His plan had already been ruined, but he knew by the look on your face that your surprise was not a good one. He saw that fear that nestled itself into every crevice of your expression. 

You weren’t happy to find that ring. Not because it had ruined the surprise element—you just didn’t want him to propose.

He now had two options. He could do what he knew you’d want: act as if nothing ever happened and never broach the subject of marriage for several years to come, allowing you to shove away all those scary feelings until you’d deluded yourself into thinking you were over it. 

Or, he could do what he needed to do, and talk to you. 

He took a deep breath and followed you outside.

You were sitting on the back porch. Not crying, just quiet, looking out into the backyard. When Franco sat next to you, you didn’t say anything. He reached out to grab your hand, and you let him, softly admiring how he curled his thumb around your palm in soothing circles. 

“The plan,” he began, “was to ask you today. At the karting track. But I brought the wrong box.” He softly smiled at the absurdity of it. “When you were getting ready we were all frantically looking for it. I don’t know how we missed it.”

You just hummed in response, unsure of what to say. You needed to be honest. You needed to say the difficult things.

You began, though your voice felt choked. “Franco, if you would have asked me today, I would have said no.” You felt his hand tense up. “I mean, I would have said yes, because everyone was there. But…”

You trailed off, your words fleeing from you now. 

“I don’t understand,” Franco confessed. “We’re happy. You’re happy with me, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then why don’t you want to marry me?” His voice dripped with sadness, and all you wanted to do was hold him. You turned your head to face him, and the deep sorrow in his eyes nearly brought you to tears.

“I do want to. I just…”

“I’ve done everything I can to be good to you. I’ve tried to always be there. I know I’m not perfect, but—”

“It’s not you, Franco. It was never you.”

“Then why? What can I do?” His voice cracked, seeping with hopelessness and frustration. “If it’s not because of me, then what am I supposed to do?” 

You got up. “Come here,” you said, and led him to the living room. The home was quiet; his parents were asleep, and the vast emptiness of the home was eerie. 

You grabbed the photo album that your parents had given you, and sat down on the couch, motioning for Franco to sit next to you. 

You opened it to a picture of you at your 4th birthday party. In the photo, you grimaced though the uncomfortable sensation of a plastic party hat. “Do you see her?” you asked him. He nodded. 

“I remember feeling like this when I was that little. This…fear. I desperately wanted friends but was too afraid to talk to anyone.”

You flipped to the next page, pointing to a photo of you sitting alone in a park, a forced smile across your face. “What do you notice about this picture?” you asked him.

Franco leaned in closer to look. “I don’t know,” he said. 

“I’m alone. See all the other kids in the background?” 

You kept flipping until you found the first photo of you when Franco knew you. You were fifteen, smack in the middle of your awkward teenage years, in the stands at one of his races. 

“I remember that,” he said. 

“That’s me, spending time with my first real friend,” you said. “I didn’t know it yet, but I had a huge crush on him,” you joked.

“He was going to ask you to marry him today. And you just told him you would have said no.”  

“I know,” you said, trying to be gentle with your tone. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’re not just asking me. You’re asking her. And she feels so alone, and she’s scared to trust anyone.”

Franco sat with the thought for a moment, before getting up to grab his own photo book. He opened it to the first page, and pointed to a photo of him as a toddler, wrapped in a scarf, toothy grin spread wide. 

“And that’s who asked you.”

You felt a knot of emotion in your stomach break. All you wanted was to cry. 

“This goes both ways, YN,” Franco continued. “I understand that you’re scared. But I can’t fix that fear. Only you can.”

The dam broke, your tears flooding forth. He was right. So you told him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you said, and he wrapped his arm around you, rubbing your back through the tears. 

“I’m not perfect either. I shouldn’t have rushed it, I was just excited.”

“Don’t apologize for being excited to propose,” you laughed through your tears. “I should probably go back to therapy.”

“If you think that’ll help,” he said.

“It will,” you sniffled. “I just… I’ve been so afraid that I’ve been ignoring all the signs. I should have seen this coming. You’re never that excited to let me beat you in karting.”

He smiled at your banter. You continued, “But really, you’re right. I’ve just been avoiding this because I’m scared, getting up in my head. I just feel so happy and that scares me, because at some point it has to fall apart, right? You’re never happy forever.”

“You’re not unhappy forever, either. Of course we’d have rough spots. But that’s the beauty of marriage,” he said, “you vow to be there for each other through it all.”

“How did I get so lucky to have you?” you asked, meeting his gaze. 

His eyes were full of compassion and love. “I’m the lucky one.” He leaned down to kiss you. 

You didn’t really believe him. You still didn’t understand how someone so perfect could love you, someone so…broken. But one day you would. You had to.

The next year was difficult. You began your healing journey again—a journey you were convinced you’d be on your entire life. But you’d do it for him, and for you. 

And slowly, bit by bit, the wounds began to heal. 

It wasn’t linear. With Franco’s new contract, he had lots of attention and responsibilities. He was away from home more. He was tired, stressed, more short-tempered. There were arguments. Some days it felt like you took one step forward and two steps back. 

But you made it through. For every argument there was an honest conversation. For every night away there was a sweet gesture or text message to remind you that he still loved you, and from it grew a solid, blooming trust. For every mistake—on both ends—there was an apology and a commitment to be better. For every night of tears, there was a night of laughter with the man you loved most in the world. 

And by the end of the season, you and the relationship were stronger than ever. 

Of course, things weren’t perfect. But the fear that had once held you hostage was an adversary you knew you could overcome. 

Franco kept the ring in his nightstand. You had found it again one day while cleaning. It wasn’t really hidden, as if to say, we’ll get to this later. It was no secret now.  You just put it back in its place and smiled, going on about your day. 

But Franco had been giving the proposal much thought. He decided against inviting anyone again, wanting it to be a tender moment of vulnerability between you and him.

No, he wanted this time to be simple. Honest. 

He just hoped you were ready. 

A few weeks before the beginning of the next season, he took you out to the place where all this had begun; the outlook in the countryside, where he first told you that he wanted to marry you.

This time, he double and triple checked to make sure the ring was there in his pocket. 

The sun was setting over the Spanish countryside, painting the sky rich shades of orange and yellow. The air had cooled with the impending coming of night. 

He opened your car door and set up a blanket on the ground, where you sat and he laid his head in your lap, letting your fingers run through his hair as a way to calm his nerves. 

He took a deep breath as he sat up, and you knew what was coming. Again, he had rehearsed a speech, but almost instantly forgot it the second he opened his mouth. 

“YN,” he began, looking you directly in the eyes, “I… I love you. So much. More than words can say.” He was nervous, swallowing before he continued, letting his eyes wander off to the picturesque view. But he had more important things to be looking at. 

“I can’t imagine a version of my life without you in it. I grew up with you. I want to grow old with you. You’ve made me into the best version of myself. We’ve gone through so many things and come out on the other side so much stronger. And I want this,” he said, reaching out to wipe away the happy tears that now flowed down your cheeks. “I want to be with you. Even though we’re both imperfect, even though we both have our problems to work through, YN, I want to do this with you, forever. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up next to you. I want to have children and grandchildren with you. I…” he trailed off, not knowing how to finally say what he really wanted to say.

You smiled through the tears. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring, flipping it open and showing it to you. 

“Marry me,” he whispered. 

Your smile widened. “Yes,” you answered. “Yes.” 

He kissed you with a fervent passion. When he pulled away, his smile couldn’t be contained.

“She said yes!” he cried out, though you both were alone. “I did it! She said yes!” You laughed at his antics.

In a few weeks, you’d have the official photo shoot where he got down on one knee. You’d show the world the carefully constructed version that was all they got to see.

But this was real. And maybe it was imperfect; maybe he hadn’t really asked, more instructed, and maybe he hadn’t gotten down on one knee, and maybe, yes, you had found the ring beforehand. 

But this was real. In all the ups and downs, the hurt and healing, this love you shared with your now fiance was real. The world didn’t get to see that. 

And maybe that fear was still within you. It was smaller now. And when you had seen that shine of the ring, maybe you had felt it rise within you again. But you knew now that it was just a feeling, something you could control. You didn’t have to ignore it or let it reign you. It was just there. 

It wasn't real though. And this was. The cold metal of the ring slid onto your finger. The feeling of Franco’s lips on yours. The strain in your face muscles from all the smiling. His hand around your waist, pulling you closer as the sun dipped below the sky, leaving you and your lover alone in the dark—yes, this was real. 

And this was yours; he was yours.

For the first time in a long time, you knew you had nothing to fear. 

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOUR HEART WAS GLASS, I DROPPED IT ❆

katsuki bakugou x reader

on a cold winter night, you open the door for your warm, ex boyfriend katsuki.

part 2/2. i’m sorry tumblrs not letting me link anything atm :(

inspired by champagne problems

katsuki booked his flight home at night for a reason.

it was dark, meaning no one really would be out. he wanted to be alone and sit there in his hurt. he wasn’t sure what he hated more- the bustling crowds or silent sleepers. both of them had a clear absence of you.

the winter chill seeps into his bones as he waits outside your door. after the phone hangs up, we anxiously wonders if you’ll even answer it. its -26°, and he can only imagine your bundled up in there. its the place he left you standing before hoping on a plane and abandoning what he had with you.

he’s about to turn away, before he hears your voice. “get in here, it’s freezing.”

he immediately obliges, stepping into the familiar space. crimson eyes stare at you, noticing your different appearance. you’ve cut your hair and pierced your ears. theres an ache in his chest seeing you for the first time again. suddenly the apartment began to feel much warmer.

“your hair. its… shorter.” he awkwardly mutters like a teenage boy asking you to a dance.

“uh, yeah. i wanted a change.” you chuckle, no less uncomfortable than him.

he wants to take your hand, but he’s scared he’ll drop it again. your place was cozy, yet crestfallen. he remembered you told him you never particularly enjoyed living alone. you lead him to the living room. there, he sees your cats cuddling, slightly jealous of the companionship they share.

its here he notices that its still chilly, albeit not as cold as outside. he quickly clutches his hands around the warm cup of tea you bring him, taking in the mundane sounds of your apartment. leftovers on the stove, the dripping of the sink, and the soft snores of your feline companions.

“sorry, my heaters still broken.” you apologetically quip, sitting down next to him on the couch. katsuki mentally facepalms himself for that. he said he’d fix it for you before he left.

“yeah. guess i forgot about that.” he says, barely looking you in the eye. if he was gonna break up with you, leave you stranded and hop on a flight out of the country, you think the least he could do is make sure you stayed warm- but no.

“why didn’t you get it fixed yourself?” he asks, his usual gruff voice replaced by a particular softness for you.

you just shrug. “i don’t know. i never got around to it. winter came early.”

the both of you remember when you first got together. he told his family for a reason. he was so excited, saying he found the one. a few months later, no one was celebrating.

love slipped beyond his reaches the day he began doubting himself. he wasn’t good enough for you. becoming the #1 hero in his country only made him wonder more about his worth. he could barely give a reason towards the break up, instead spewing out that he needed to think things through instead.

“..how was your trip?” you break the silence, though you know the answer. his trip was great. the media wouldn’t shut up about it. about his parties and award shows, about the lives he saved and the talents he has. they particularly the people, more so the girls he was with. though you decided not to bring that part up.

he paused for a moment. he knew you would say something about it soon. he was being watched and photographed everywhere he went, which included a few girls who got some videos and pictures with him.

“it was exhausting, more than fun. you know all those girls only care about publicity and attention, none of it was real.” he sighs, taking a sip of his tea.

“i didn’t bring up girls.” you’re quick to remind him. though its nice how he’s so quick to assure any doubts you may have. “but… yeah. i figured as much.”

“you know nothing happened between me and anyone you saw, right?” he asks in a tone that makes it sound like it should be obvious- but its not. katsuki could have went home with someone else, done illicit drugs, drank and had unprotected sex, and it wouldn’t be any of your business.

“it… wouldn’t matter anymore if you did. we broke up before you left, remember?” you say.

theres nothing with katsuki’s memory. he thinks about that break up every damn night.

“um.. least you had kirishima with you.” you quip, just trying to lighten the mood. you get a genuine smile out of the blonde.

“yeah. shitty hair was annoying, as usual.” he chuckles fondly. only best friends can refer to each other like that.

shitty hair was also the guy that kept katsuki from doing something, or rather someone, he might regret. he knows his best friend and he knows where his feelings lie.

katsuki was midas. everything he touched turned to gold. and people adored him for it, revelling in the fame and fortune. but with that superpower comes consequences. not everything should b shiny and gold. sure, his midas touch on the chevy door looked beautiful, but you two could never actually drive it. your relationship shimmered and glistened, but it never went anywhere.

but for a moment, things were good. you’d laugh and smile with your group of friends- though after the breakup you believed you’d never say that word again. now, those friends have the nerve to deck the halls that katsuki once loved you in.

he never was ready, so you watched him go. neither of you just didn’t know the answer, even after begging him to stay on your knees.

you would have made such a lovely bride. what a shamed he’s fucked in the head. even though to him you were the real thing.

he still has your picture in his wallet. he wants to your hold hand dancing, and never leave you like he did ever again.

“…what happened to us, anyway?” he dares to ask, his whisper speaking volumes in the silence. he knows the answer. he knows why he did what he did. but you suppose he wants to know what you think.

“one moment you love me, and your promising to fix my heater… next thing i know, you’ve gotta think things through. and then you’re on a plane to los angeles.”

he flinches at that. kind of a dick move on his part, not explaining things and immediately fleeing the country afterwards. to be fair, it was a pr trip he had planned months before, but if that wasn’t the case he’d still book a spontaneous trip to alberta or somewhere, like the coward he is.

he feels the most guilt when you bring up the heater he said he’d fix. it wasn’t the only thing he promised you. he swore you’d always be loved, that you’d never be alone, and yet he couldn’t even give you a god damn warm apartment for the winter.

“i did love you.” he attempts to correct you, though you focus only on one word.

“did?” you ask, hesitantly.

he pauses again, realizing his slip up.

“…i do love you.”

you shake your head silently, eyes welling up with tears. one falls into your cup of tea. “don’t… don’t say that just to make me feel better, kats.”

but he’s not. he’s saying it because he means it. he’s saying it because he’s kept his mothers ring in his pocket, preparing for the moment he’ll make it your ring.

at this point, he can tell the cold is getting to you. your shaking slightly, your loose sweater respectfully doing nothing to shield you from the winter air. a broken heater neglected by a shitty ex-boyfriend is enough cold.

“you’re cold?” he asks. “no, i’m warm.” you answer sarcastically. its his fault for asking.

he debates on it for a moment. normally, he wouldn’t think twice before pulling you into his embrace. but now, he worries. he wonders if thats even what you want. his quirk keeps him warm enough, but you don’t have that. seeing your reaction to the bitter winter air pushes him to a decision.

“c’mere.”

maybe its the cold, the ache in your heart missing him, or some combination of both, but you don’t think twice before shuffling over to him on the couch as he wraps his arms around you. your head lays against his chest, listening to the rise and fall of his heartbeat and the warmth of his embrace.

god, he missed this. even the warmth of LA didn’t compare to holding you on a chilled night.

“you’re the worst.” you whisper, obviously still angry and heartbroken, yet still in his embrace. “i love you.”

those words feel like a confession. he takes it, both the proclamation of his faults and the admission that you still love him. both are true.

“i love you too, dumbass.” he says. “and i’m not just saying that.”

you perk your head up slightly, finally asking the million-dollar question: “..then why’d you break things off?”

he looks at you. he knows exactly why. but he’s not sure if he can break it to you yet. ultimately, he decides you deserve the truth.

with a sigh, he finally speaks. “i… i don’t know. i thought it would be better for you. i thought you’d be happier without me dragging you down, babe.”

you look into his red eyes and determine that he is, in fact, telling the truth- despite how fabricated it sounds. katsuki bakugou, the incredible #1 hero who was the best of the best, thought he wasn’t good enough?

yeah, thats exactly the case. because even through his heroic outside, katsuki wondered if you deserved more. or better.

he sees the confusion in your eyes and decided to explain his thoughts further. “i thought you’d be better off without me, with someone else. i thought you’d find someone better than me who didn’t have such a shitty personality, someone who you’d be better with.”

you shake your head, making sure he hears you. “i know you’ve been doubting yourself since you became #1… wondering if you’re good enough or not, but… i thought you’d at least know you’re good enough for me.”

its crazy to him how easy it was for his fears to die down if he had just talked to you in the first place. he’s learned his lesson.

so he nods, pressing a kiss and an “i’m sorry” to your forehead. you continue talking to him.

“you’re shitty, and you’re kind of an asshole.” you chuckle. “you’re also really sweet when it counts. you remember things about me. you fix things, i guess except for my heater… you’re good to me. you try. you try harder with me than with anything else in your life.”

he couldn’t help but smile a little at the truth in your words. even counting his time in UA, his relentless training to become a hero, katsuki tried the hardest to become better for you. “yeah. you make me wanna change.”

he presses his forehead to yours, just relishing in the newfound warmth. he’s happy, content.

“lets call it even.” you whisper, fingers intertwining with his. “i didn’t think i was good enough for you either.”

he almost scoffs at that. “you’re an idiot for thinkin’ that.”

you roll your eyes. “so are you.”

tags! 🫧

@dragonscribble @rayleeya @brisklofitea @saceaseeds

[baby-yongbok]

I Dare You

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

➺ Genre: Smut, 1% plot 99% disgusting

➺Summary: Eat a sex chocolate before the party he said. It'll be fun he said.

➺ Word Count: 3.8k

➺🩶A/N: This is like a beginner piss kink fic lol it's filthy but if piss fics aren't usually your thing then this one is calm enough for you to dip your toe in the water. It's just subtle enough for those who like calm scenes (At least it is in my opinion. I could've made this WAY more intense 😭) + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy!

➺ Warnings: Piss , Squirting, Fingering, Oral (M receiving), Use of an Aphrodisiac, Car sex (Please be safe, don't nut and drive), Appearance by + mentions of Changbin [I think that's all] - Again, this is a piss kink fic. It's subtle but there is piss.

➺Request: Yes - No

✧Masterlist✧

It was a dare, a stupid dare that you’re currently regretting as you down your fourth glass of champagne. The burn of your heels pressing into the balls of your feet could hardly compare to the ache you felt between your legs. You stood at the bar, lips pulled into a thin line as the sound of some slowed R&B song swirled through the air. You wanted to dance and have a good time with the rest of your friends but you just couldn’t, not like this. As you took in the moving bodies in the middle of the room your eyes landed on his, your friend. The one who started all of this.

To be fair you should’ve known better than to listen to Hyunjin, he’s always up to something. You knew when he handed you that damned chocolate that it was a bad idea. “It’ll be fun, come on, I dare you. It’ll only make you a little horny.” 

You knew better, you knew that taking a damn aphrodisiac before a party was a messy move. Especially since you’re here with Hyunjin. Your friends are always teasing the two of you, asking why you’re so close or why he’s always over at your place and spending the night. They blame all of Hyunjin’s unexplained hickies on you. It’s to the point where everyone that knows the two of you thinks that you’re fucking. And they’re right, you are. 

“Is he allowed to do that?” Changbin sneaking up next to you pulls your attention away from Hyunjin, basically dry humping some girl on the dance floor. The smirk on his face said it all, he’s trying to get you worked up. Contrary to what everyone else might think you're not the jealous type, neither of you are. You’re more than happy to share.

“You mean is my friend allowed to dance with girls?” You steal a glance back towards Hyunjin, he’s so close to her. Is he going to kiss her? Will you be able to contain yourself if he does? You press your thighs together at the thought of it. “Of course he is.”

“When will you two admit that you’re dating?” The smirk on Changbin’s face as he stares down at you, drink in his hand and that damned black shirt stretched over his chest and biceps just right makes you feel something that you never have towards him. Of course he’s hot, you always thought that but right now the thought of having him bend you over this bar and fuck you dumb in the middle of this party is all that is looping through your head. 

“If we were dating.” You turn to him, stepping so close that your chest is practically pressed against his. “This would be a problem.” The glass in your hand is quickly forgotten on the bar as you ghost your fingers up Changbin’s arm and rub over his strong shoulder. “But it’s not, look.”

He breaks your gaze for a second, glancing over to Hyunjin who’s way too busy swapping spit with the pretty black haired girl to notice you trying to seduce his friend. 

“So you’re not dating him?” His glassy eyes search yours, you’re both clearly tipsy. 

“Nope.” The feeling of Changbin’s hand on your waist makes you moan involuntarily. You need something, anything, to take the edge off. Every little touch makes you feel like you could come undone. He leans in and ghosts his lips against your neck. You gasp and your lips part, your eyes rolling back in your head and your body arching into him. How can something this small make you feel so hot?

“How drunk are you? You’re so sensitive.” The breath of his whisper sends chills down your spine. 

“I’m not drunk.” Changbin pulls back enough to meet your gaze.

“What are you then? I touched you and you moaned.”  You blush and look away. Your bold attitude has abandoned you tonight. 

 "I'm just really turned on." He smirks and pulls back completely, leaving you wanting more. His gaze shifts over to Hyunjin quickly before meeting your pleading eyes again.

“You want help taking care of that?”  His dark eyes twinkle in the ambient party lighting and you can’t help but to feel needy for him or anyone else at this point. It’s a surprise that your arousal isn’t dripping down your legs. A nod and a not so subtle lip bite is all that you offer him before he cups your face and pulls you closer. You close your eyes as he leans in.

“I need to hear you say yes.” The brush of his lips against yours as he whispers against your lips pulls another whimper from you. 

“Yes, please help me, Binnie. Please.” His lips are pressing to yours in an instant. Hungry and sweet just how you needed him to be. You melt into his touch, sighing into the kiss and pressing your thighs together with all of the force that you have in you. His lips are so soft, how would they feel sucking on your - wait, who’s pressing into your back? A large hand glides up your thigh and over the curve of your hip, squeezing the fabric of your tight skirt as it rides up a bit. You could recognize his touch any day, it never fails to light your whole body on fire. 

“So horny you had to beg my friend to fuck you?” How long has Hyunjin been there? How much did he hear? Do you even care? You push back into him, grinding against his hard bulge. “Do I need to take you home?”

A whine escapes you as Changbin pulls away from you, a smile on his plump glossy lips as he looks between you two. “So you are dating.” You grab Changbin’s wrist as he tries to move his hand from your waist. You want more, you need it so badly. So desperately. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Hyunjin shakes his head, wrapping his other arm around your waist and splaying his fingers over your stomach. “But she is mine.”

“I knew it.” Changbin picks up his drink from the bar, shaking his head at the two of you. 

“It looks like you’re taken care of.” He nods towards Hyunjin who smiles at him and mutters a quick good-bye to his friend. He doesn’t care if Changbin kissed you because he’s the one who will be balls deep in your cunt soon. You frown watching Changbin walk away but the feeling of Hyunjin’s lips on your neck makes the world around you fade away. He hasn’t even done anything to you and you can already feel the fucked out fog setting in.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

You usually didn’t mind going to parties that were a bit further from your apartment but right now you hated it. Every second that passed with Hyunjin’s hand rubbing at your thigh made you want to explode. He wasn’t doing any better, he kept shifting in the driver's seat, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He’s just as desperate and needy as you, he just seems to be handling it better.

“How was it?” His voice snapped you out of your dirty daydream. How long have you been staring out of the window?

“What?”

“Kissing Changbin.” His eyes stay on the road and his voice is calm despite the uncomfortable strain of his cock against his jeans.

“It was good, really good.” All he offers is a smirk as he shifts again. Did he think it was hot? Did he enjoy seeing you kiss his friend? “How about that girl? How was she?”

“Eh, she really likes using tongue. I only like doing that with you.” 

Before you can stop yourself your mind is wandering to the moment right before the party when you and Hyunjin both started feeling the effects of the chocolate. His hands were in your hair and yours were up his shirt as your tongues explored each other's mouths in the front seat of the car. You were on top of him, straddling his growing erection and grinding your dripping core against the rough denim of his jeans. You both almost decided to leave the party, you were seconds away from turning right around and going home so he can fuck you senseless but when you asked him he gave you that devious smile. “What? Are you scared you’ll be too horny for the party? I dared you remember? You can do it, come on.” 

“Hyunjin.” You spread your legs a bit in your seat. The cool air hitting the wet spot on your panties sent a shiver through you. You feel so antsy and needy, desire is crawling wildly under your skin and you can’t take another second of it. You need him. “Jinnie, will you please touch me?” 

He stole a quick glance your way. Hissing through clenched teeth when he noticed the wet spot on your gray panties. “Baby, I’m driving.” His hand stayed on your thigh, it squeezed the soft flesh much harsher than he meant to but you enjoyed every second of it. You hiked your skirt up your thighs until it slipped over the curve of your ass, resting around your waist and leaving your wet cotton panties exposed. 

“Jinnie look ‘m so wet for you, please.” You’ve never felt as desperate as you do right now. Your nipples are pebbled underneath your shirt, your clit is swollen and the only thought in your head is having Hyunjin on you. You want him. His fingers, his mouth, his cock. Any and all of him. “I can’t wait, I need you, look what you did to me.”

You hook your finger into the gusset of your panties and lift it up and over just as Hyunjin glances over at your core. The sight before him could’ve made him swerve off of the road if he didn’t have any self control. You’re soaked, strings of sticky arousal are connecting your panties to your pussy and all he wants to do is lick up every drop of that sweet slick from your folds. 

“Fuck.” His hand moves from your thigh to rub over his aching erection. “I did that to you, angel? You’re soaked for me? Want my cock to fuck you dumb?” He bites his lip, a moan falling from his parted lips as he nearly misses his turn.

“Move your panties a bit more, let me feel you.” If there were an award for keeping your cool while driving as horny as a pornstar, Hyunjin would definitely win it. His driving is smooth, he’s barely missing a single sign, and his eyes are trained on the road while his pointer and middle finger circle soft figure eights over your erect clit. “Want my fingers in this pussy?”

He trails down and teases your entrance, just barely giving you the tip of his finger. Your head falls back against the seat and Hyunjin thanks his lucky stars that he’s approaching a traffic light. When he stops and looks over at you, he thinks that you couldn’t be more beautiful. Your eyebrows are pinched together and your pretty eyes are glistening with tears that threaten to fall from your puffy lids. Your lipstick is smudged ever so slightly while your bottom lip is caught firm between your teeth. Your arms are hooked under your knees to give him better access to your sopping cunt. A true masterpiece.

“Beg me to fill you with my fingers, baby. You have until the light changes.” 

“Please let me feel your fingers, Hyunjin. I’ll be so good for you, I’ve been so good. I’ll suck your cock when we get home, I promise. Please, please, please Jinnie. I n-need you, I need you to fuck my pussy open. I need to be stretched for you. This pussy is yours and I need you to fuck it. I w-want it. I-I’ll be so good for you I’ll -” A smile spreads wide across his face as he listens to you babble and beg so mindlessly. You trip over almost every word as your pussy clenches around nothing. He couldn’t help but to chuckle, not the cute kind that brings you comfort. No, this was the dark one, the one that means that he’s going to ruin you once he gets the chance.

“Light changed.” His fingers breach your entrance at the same time that his foot lets up on the brake. “Such a good little pornstar. Begging for my fingers in the car.”

“F-fuck, fuck fuckfuck oh my - my fuck.” Nothing makes sense in your head, you’re not even sure what you’re saying. Are you breathing? Once his long fingers curled into your g-spot the mist in your brain turned into a blinding dark fog. It feels so good, he feels so good. His fingers fuck into you at just the right pace, you can feel your arousal running down your inner thigh as he brings you closer to the edge. Your brows pinch together as another feeling sneaks up on you. An aching pressure that you were barely aware of before but can not seem to ignore now. “Hyun-Hyunjin wait I- gotta, gotta pee.” 

You meant to use the bathroom before the two of you left but Hyunjin rushed you out of the party so quickly that you forgot. “Go ahead, make a mess for me.”

The two of you were no stranger to water sports but you’ve never done such a thing in his car. “Are you-” You cut yourself off with a moan and Hyunjin nods, already knowing what you’re going to ask, he’s more than sure. 

“Make a mess for me, angel. I want your piss on my leather seats. Can you do that for me? Squirt and piss all over my car.” What left your lips was barely a moan, it was more like a desperate cry as he abused your sweet spot. “Come on, baby. Show me how good it feels.” 

You’re way too concentrated on the pleasure burning through you to notice that the car just stopped. Hyunjin found a relatively dark and empty lot to stop in so he could enjoy the show. If there’s one thing that he loves it’s when you two get messy. He’s the happiest when you're squirting all over his cock or pissing while you ride his thigh or his face. 

He keeps a steady pace while his thumb flicks over your swollen clit, milking everything you have to offer from you. His free hand rubbed over his clothed cock as he watched you with dark low lidded eyes. He wants nothing more than to fuck his fist to the sight of you but he choses to build himself up instead. He wants to bust inside of you, filling you to the brim with his sticky seed. 

“C-cumming I’m - I’m cumming i’m cumming.” He curls his fingers into you, milking your fluttering walls as a rush of arousal squirts from your swollen cunt. He pulls his fingers out, rubbing his four fingers over your cunt and making a mess of your fluids. 

“Piss all over me, baby. That’s it.” The pressure in your bladder lets up as you let go. A mixture of squirt and piss coated the windshield and radio in front of you as Hyunjin rubbed at your pussy. “Gimme another one.” 

His fingers are plugging your hole again before you can protest. “Jin- Jinnie so good ‘s so g-good.” If you were watching yourself from the outside looking in you wouldn’t be able to recognize the babbling mess in the passenger seat as yourself. You’ve been needy before but you’ve never been this fucked out and foggy. What the hell was in that chocolate? “Cum, cum, gonna- fuck.”

You’re squirting all over his hand again, your moans and cries fill the car and Hyunjin is absolutely positive that you’d have a full audience if there were anyone nearby with the way that you’re screaming for him. “That’s my fucking pornstar right there, look at this fucking mess baby. You’re soaked in your own cum and piss. So nasty for me.” He watches in delight as you tremble and moan, your body shaking as you come down from your high.

“More, more please please please. Let me have your cock. I wan’ suck it, let me please.” He smirks as you beg for him, your body trembling against the damp leather of the seat and your mouth wide open in pleasure. 

“If you touch me I’ll fucking bust.” You unbuckle your seatbelt hastily. Climbing up to your knees with the grace of a baby deer against the soaked seat. “You just can’t wait huh? Need to taste my cum?”

You nod, fucked out and frantic as you lean over the middle console and fumble with his belt buckle. He leans back, one hand tracing your spine lightly while the other rests behind his head. He loves watching you be dumb and needy for him, he doesn't get to see it often so he came up with the dare to get what he wanted. He knew what the chocolate would do to you, he’s taken it before and he knows how bad it can get. When he showed it to you and you said that you’d try it someday he got excited. He was curious if it could get him his desired outcome. He wanted to know if it’ll make you his brainless slut, looks like it worked. 

“Come on, angel gotta get my cock in your mouth.” You whine at his teasing, licking your lips and fumbling with frustration until you finally free his rock hard dick from his jeans, no boxers underneath for easy access of course. You hum at the sight of it, immediately licking up the pre-cum leaking from the angry tip. “Shit.”

The hand that was once behind his head grabs a handful of your hair and he tries his best to contain himself. He didn’t want to let his guard down yet, he’s been waiting until you get home but your pretty warm mouth wrapped around his cock just might make him as needy as you are. “Baby, baby, baby you’re gonna make me nut. I’m gonna cum down that pretty tight throat, fuck.”

You take all of him, allowing his tip to abuse the back of your throat as you moan around him. “Oh, I want to be that deep in your fucking cunt. You gonna let me? Gonna let me ruin that pussy when we get to your place?” He’s practically fucking your throat now as his hips thrust up involuntarily. He can’t help but chase the pleasure. You feel so good and he’s five times more sensitive than he usually is. 

“Swallow around that cock, swallow my dick. Yes, fuck yes just like that, that’s my girl.” The moment that your throat contracts around him he can feel himself tipping over the edge. With his head thrown back, a death grip in your hair and his eyes shut tight he slurs dirty promises into the air while shooting ropes of cum down your throat.

“Swallow it, take all my fucking cum. Oh shit, baby swallow every drop of my fucking seed. You’re such a slut letting me - fuck - letting me make a mess in this tiny throat. Fucking hell I’m so addicted to you.” You swirl your tongue around his shaft and tip as you lift up off of him. A single string of spit connects you to his cock but it’s swiftly broken when Hyunjin grabs your chin and pulls you in for a kiss. Your tongues explore each other's mouths as you swallow each other’s moans. 

 Your hand wraps around Hyunjin’s cock, still hard as a rock, milking a deep moan from him as he pulls away from your swollen lips, you watch Hyunjin's eyes roll back in pleasure. He runs his hands through your hair, as he pants and stares into your eyes. He’s just as cloudy and fucked out as you are now. All that’s going through his head is you. He needs to feel you, to fuck you dumb until you fall apart on his cock and soak the mattress with your cum.

“S-stop, baby.” His words barely make it past his clenched teeth but even if they did you wouldn’t have listened. “Stop.” This time the hiss in his voice catches your attention. He grabs your wrist, ripping you away from his cock.

“I need to get you home.” His dark eyes bore into yours. The intense lustful energy swirling around the two of you and fogging the windows makes you feel dizzy as you  listen to him. “Sit.”

You obey immediately, sitting back in your wet seat and shivering at the cool damp feeling. Hyunjin fixes himself but he doesn’t allow you to do the same. “You were just pumping my cock like a desperate slut, so sit there like a messy whore for me, okay? Keep that pretty pussy on display.”

A cock drunk smile pulls at your lips as you fasten your seat belt and settle into your seat. It doesn’t take long for Hyunjin to pull off, driving at the exact speed limit in hopes that he can get home quick and safe. You’re not too far from your apartment, it hasn’t been more than ten minutes since your last orgasm but it feels like it’s been forever since you’ve felt his hands on you. He’s noticed you shifting in your seat and rubbing your hands up and down your thighs, desperate for any type of attention. A smile adorns his flushed features as he gets closer to your place. 

“Angel, I know what can keep you busy.” His eyes stay on the road but yours immediately fly over to him, scanning his features as you listen closely. 

“Touch yourself and tell me everything that you wanted Changbin to do to you. Tell me all the dirty thoughts you had when he had his hands on my girl.” You push your thighs together, squirming in your seat. You had completely forgotten about your kiss with Changbin and how desperate you were to feel his hands on you and have him inside of you. 

“Hyunjin I don’t know if I can handle that, I just want you, baby.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head slightly. 

“I won’t touch you anymore unless you do it.” You whine, throwing a tantrum against your seat. Hyunjin’s hand grabs your thigh, squeezing the flesh harshly and warning you to stop. With a smile on his face he glances over at you. You’re only four blocks away from your apartment.

“Come on, baby. I dare you.”

[moviecritc]

after midnight ⋆ lestappen

pairing: lestappen x driver!reader

summary: charles doesn't want to accept that he has feelings for both of max and you

word count: 1.8K

warnings: making out, grope? (idk how to saying in english, but in spanish would be meter mano o manosear)

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

part 1 | part 2

Max and Y/N had once again achieved a 1-2, it was the third consecutive race they had achieved this result.

Everyone was cheering their names, and then there was Charles. He had managed to finish third because George DNF'd on the last lap and he took his place in the race.

Charles had always felt a mixture of envy and admiration for the Red Bull duo.

Envy for their driving style and tactics to win all the races and admiration for their personalities. Max stood out simply for being himself, calculating and fierce both on and off the track, his blue eyes sent shivers down Charles' spine. Even more so when he saw him without the fireproofs.

Y/N was slighty warmer than him, but still he feared her, with a somewhat rebellious driving style, Y/N had won the championship last year and was fighting for her second. She was much more open than Max and she was the one who humanized the team, separating her person from her race number very well. Most of the time she was Y/N L/N, when she got into the car she was simply the 1. It was impossible not to fall in love with her, from the moment she joined the competition she had become the girl of the paddock, the representative of all women in motorsport, and she wore it with pride. She has collaborated to form the F1 Academy, has financed dozens of girls to make a place for themselves in the sport and now she was forming her own F1 Academy team with Rare Beauty as a collaborator. She was an ambitious, determined, and also beautiful woman, Charles had found it impossible to resist her.

The most surprising thing was how well Max and Y/N got along off the track, they lived relatively close in Monaco and there had been several times when they had been seen having dinner together. Most of the people said they only had common friends, a few said there was something more than friendship.

The chemistry was undeniable, Y/N brought out the best side of Max in interviews and Max knew how to stop Y/N when she talked too much.

Charles knew the podium was going to be uncomfortable, Max and Y/N celebrating their victories and pouring champagne on each other, and Charles just being there, knowing that neither of them cared at all about his P3.

Surprisingly, Y/N approached him and patted him on the shoulder as she congratulated him, but immediately Max once again drew all of Y/N's attention by soaking her with champagne. Charles drank from his bottle as he watched Max half-kneeling and Y/N pouring champagne from her bottle into his mouth.

That scene caused Charles a strange sensation. Seeing Max like that, slightly kneeling with his hair and suit dampened by a mixture of alcohol and sweat. Y/N with the glow of victory in her eyes and her suit adapting to the curves of her body.

There was something so sexual about that scene that it overwhelmed Charles. His attraction to Y/N he had assimilated, with just a couple of words he knew she would be the woman of his dreams. The problem was that when he was with Max that feeling doubled. The idea of ​​not being a spectator anymore and being with both of them made his heart race.

After finishing all the interviews, Y/N approached Charles. "Hey, we're going to get a drink, wanna come?"

Charles blinked. "Me?"

He pointed to himself, surprised by the invitation and interaction. In all those years he had hardly ever spoken to Y/N, except for business matters, which made her even more ethereal.

Y/N laughed in a natural way and brushed her hair away from her face. "Sure. Max and I usually have a drink with whoever comes third, and today it was you." By the way she said it, it seemed like it was already a routine. "So? Do you feel like it?"

"Uh, yes, yes. I'd love to," he nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Great!" she said with a smile. Charles was impressed by her constant naturalness. "We'll get dressed up and then see you at the club."

Y/N gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and left the paddock with Max, who had been present throughout the conversation from a prudent distance.

At the after-party - for lack of a better term - there were many people from Red Bull, too many, and Charles felt like an intruder. He locked eyes with Y/N, who gestured to him as soon as she saw him. She was at a table almost in the center of the place with Max, some friends, and Lando Norris. That guy was always everywhere.

"Charles! Come here, come on. What do you want to drink?" exclaimed Y/N.

Charles approached, somewhat impressed by all of this. Y/N made room for him next to her and instead of fist-bumping, she gave him two kisses. Max, on the other hand, stretched his arm over Y/N to greet him and then left his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest. Y/N didn't mind.

"P3, huh? That was very good," commented Max.

Y/N groaned immediately. "We always talk about races, let's talk about something interesting."

"Isn't Formula interesting?" Max spoke, tilting his head.

"Not with you," said Y/N.

They all laughed and Max made a face.

Y/N once again focused all her attention on Charles, he noticed how Y/N's heel was circling around his calf.

"What about your love life, Charlie?" she asked, without hesitation.

The nickname caught Charles off guard, and even more so the question. If she was asking, it was because she cared.

Max clicked his tongue, telling him he didn't have to answer.

How was Charles going to explain that every time he had felt some sexual desire it had been because of her and her teammate? "Boring," he ended up saying, with a slight frown.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, almost disappointed. "How can it be boring? You're too handsome for your love life to be boring."

Charles lowered his gaze with a silly smile, noticing that Max hadn't stopped looking at him, as if he too were expectant of the answer.

"Don't listen to her, Charles. She rambles when she's drunk," commented Max, rolling his eyes a bit.

"And you get a thousand times more boring when you drink," Y/N gave Max a pat on the thigh, too close to the crotch for some to think.

Y/N drank from Max's gin and tonic and relaxed against his chest because no one was starting a conversation. She quickly got bored and looked at Max with a pout. "Will you dance with me?"

"No," he replied immediately.

"You asshole," Y/N wasted no time. "Charles?"

Charles looked up from his drink. "Huh?"

"Let's dance," she didn't even ask, she got up and pulled Charles' arm while flipping Max off before heading to the dance floor.

Charles knew she had only pulled him to dance to mess with Max, but that moment was like living a fever dream. The music hardly had any lyrics, it was pure beats on instruments. Y/N pressed her body against his in time with the music, so much so that sometimes it seemed like she was rubbing against him.

"You have beautiful eyes, Charlie," Y/N said, getting close to his ear so much that he could almost hear her saliva. She put an arm over his shoulder and kept dancing.

"Thank you," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Their faces were getting closer and closer, while both could feel Max's gaze on them. When their noses brushed, it was Y/N who stopped, looking at him for a few seconds. She removed her arm from Charles's shoulder and bit her lip, as if she were nervous.

"Hold on, I have to talk to Max," she declared, before leaving the dance floor, leaving Charles stranded and confused.

He returned to the table, not knowing what had happened, but Max and YN were no longer sitting there. Lando pointed in the direction they had gone. He found them leaning against the door of what seemed to be a private room in the club; for a moment, he thought they were arguing because of the tone of their voices, but as he listened to the conversation, he began to feel chills.

"You like him too," Y/N insisted. "Deny it. Deny that it doesn't turn you on when you see him in the fireproofs."

"Damn, yes. But it doesn't matter, I've already told you he won't want to," Max grumbled, with a distressed expression.

"You don't know that," Y/N clenched her jaw.

"He's very uptight, and insecure."

Those two words echoed in Charles's head. Insecure… he knew he was, but he hadn't realized until now that other people might notice it.

"Max, I really want him," Y/N complained. "Just imagining him watching us fuck already turns me on, imagine with us in bed." She pressed herself against Max's chest, with a grimace.

Charles felt an instant satisfaction knowing that they also fantasized about him, at least he wasn't the only weird one. He thought about the possibilities of joining the conversation, or just letting them know he was there.

"Are you Charles Leclerc? Can we take a photo?"

Before Charles could react, Y/N and Max peeked their faces around the door, her with a little smile and him slightly nervous. It was an awkward moment while the fan took the photo, but when he left, both Max and Y/N were looking at him with crossed arms and feline eyes.

"How long have you been there?" Max questioned, raising his eyebrows. He thought his friendship with Charles was going to become quite awkward after that.

Charles didn't waste time. "I… I want to,"

Max and Y/N looked at each other, with a devilish smile.

"Really?" confirmed Max.

"Yes,"

Max didn't need anything else to pull him into the room and close the door behind them. Surprisingly, Charles and he were the first to kiss while Y/N watched them. Then Y/N attacked Charles's lips at the same time as Max left marks on his girlfriend's neck. Being in the middle of the two was too much for her; having so many hands on her made her messy. Eager for more, she pulled Charles's hand towards her inner thigh. He stopped at that exact moment.

A feeling of guilt, almost shame, overwhelmed him. The other two noticed it and stopped as well. "Is something wrong?" Y/N placed her hand on Charles's thigh, but that only made him stand up as soon as he felt the contact.

"I can't…" Charles didn't finish the sentence. "I better go."

[pia-nor481]

Empty bed Part One

Lando Norris x reader smut 18+

2.7k words

Racing was always hard on Lando, he left exhausted and with extreme back pain from sitting almost parallel to the ground in the Mclaren. Many thought he was happy with P2 most races, but that wasn't the case. Coming third means you beat seventeen other drivers, it was something to be proud about. Coming first means you won, all the effort you put in payed off for 25 points and a trophy with "1" written on the front, it meant you were the best on the grid. But second, it always came with the worst feeling. He would be ecstatic getting out of the car, sitting in the cool down room and spraying champagne on the podium, but once he reached the sofa of the post race interviews, waves of dread and disappointment waved over him. "So what about the car is proving to be so tricky for you?" One of the interviewers asked looking directly at Lando, he couldn't blame the car if Oscar. a rookie, managed to come third in the same car. A car that was made for him. "Nothing, just a ... lack of talent." The pause after was so loud, although if Max and Oscar had their mics up, it would have picked up their laughter. But Lando wasn't joking, he just broke the record for the highest number of points without ever winning a race. It was upsetting sure, but his team mate winning a race before him, even though it was a sprint, hurt him even more. It wasn't Oscar's fault Lando felt so down, he just got used to losing, 

All the drivers decided to go out to a club to celebrate another win for max. Lando loved clubs and raves, the atmosphere was so over whelming that he couldn't really think. The DJ wasn't playing as well as he should have, Lando thought, he dances around the line of confident and cocky very well, it was never a turn off. He left Daniel to go the bar for another drink, once he got his vodka and coke he debated on just staying at the bar, drinking a way his problems just for the night. He didn't have to worry about a race next week so he didn't have to easy. Taking a sip of the barely cold drink almost caused him to cough, this was not the Smirnoff he was used to, there was an artificial after taste to the drink as well. "I think you might have my drink."  The girl next to him said laughing lightly, clearly trying to hold back her tears, not from laughter but from the remaining taste of vodka in her mouth. "I think so. Well, here's your just less than full rum and diet coke." Lando said, offering a playful smile in return, offering the glass to her, she took a sip with a nod, pleased to wash the awful taste out of her mouth. "You can definitely have your glass of paint stripper back." Lando chuckled rather loudly at her comment, it wasn't the first time some one had commented on his choice of drink, but her was the funniest. "You don't sound local, so I'm guessing you don't do this very often." He had to shout over the music, in retrospect he should have listened to Daniel on how to chat girls up, but she was too cute not to try. "If you mean come to clubs and talk to strangers at the bar, no. If you mean steal the drinks of very attractive men, then yes." He could barely hear her, so he had to lean in close. Her perfume was sweet and inviting, it was as if everything she said was the most interesting thing in the world, he was captivated. He was able to take her all in, a beautiful mini skirt, it was blue and iridescent, and it barely covered anything, if an elder saw her they would claim it to be a belt. Her mesh white top didn't aid in covering her any better, it did have long sleeves sure, but you could see her lacy white bra beneath it. She clearly knew how to style herself, she had lovely little white heels on and a lot of highlighter on her cheeks. She was stunning. 

"So what are you doing here ....?" She trailed off, not knowing his name. "Lando." He almost struggled to get out, so concentrated on her. "Celebrating with some friends, What are you actually doing here, other than chatting up men?" he almost laughed out, she joined him. "Looking for some fun." She hid her face behind the glass, allowing him to see the frosty blue eyeshadow on her lids. "Is that so?" He responded in a lower octave, reaching out to touch her waist with his free hand, her back immediately arched at the feeling, he was pleased to see how well she responded to his touch. She necked her drink quickly and grabbed his wrist, going to tug him out of the club. He was shocked with how her demeaner changed, she seemed so shy, but now she wanted him so desperate. Once he caught up, she stopped her by grabbing her hips firmly. "My hotel is definitely closer." Lando said, reaching for his phone. Once they were inside the taxi, he couldn't keep his hands off of her, his tongue was basically down her throat with how much he wanted her. Once of his hands snaked up her back, running his hingers over her vertebrae, her face began to warm at the feeling. 

Lando practically dragged her out of the car towards the door of the hotel. Once the lift doors shut he pushed her against the mirrors, kissing her lips again in desperation, in the process his hands grasped he sides of her face, smudging her make up. She rested her hands on his chest before pushing him back slightly, needing air. Lando however, didn't need a break, his continued his venture of kissing every bit of exposed skin, first her neck, the collar bones, there her chest. It was at this point he could also smell her body wash and lotion, their proximity was giving him good access to her body. She began to pull on his hair slightly as a sign to come back up, she reconnected their lips while he hiked her leg up around his hip, groping her ass unapologetically. The doors opened and they rushed towards his room. They didn't stop kissing until the back of her knees hit the bed, their contact broke for a second as she fell back. This gave Lando a chance to really take her in, and she was perfect. He began to lean over her, running his fingers over her neck and jaw, until he reached her mouth, she toyed with her lips before pushing his fingers between them. She sucked lightly, not breaking eye contact, Lando's breath got caught in his mouth upon the sight, licking his lips as he felt his cock get harder in his black trousers. He slowly pulled his fingers from her lips with a loud pop. She tugged her white top over head with more pace than he thought was possible, he quickly pulled her skirt down and was met with the intricate white lace of her underwear. "Fuck me." Lando rasped out, going to pull his clothes off. "I plan to." She said back, sitting up on her knees at the edge of the bed, reaching for his cock. Lando stepped closer, rubbing the tip over lips, before lightly tapping her cheeks with it, even now he was bit of a tease. She stuck her tongue out while grasping his hip, wanting him to be still while she took his whole cock in her mouth. His head fell back slightly as he groaned feeling the tip hit the back of her throat. "That's it baby, just like that." She bobbed her head over and over, motivated by the noises that slipped his mouth. He pulled off and quickly began to glide her tongue on the underside of his cock, she kissed and kitten licked the head before taking his whole cock again. He was surprised with how eager she was, no other woman was able to take the full thing, they had to use their hands to cover the base, she didn't. Lando let out blissful sigh above her, slipping his hand over her jaw, forcing eye contact. He tightened his grip when she hollowed out her cheeks, the pressure was becoming too much for him. His hips thrusting slowly was a sign of how close he was getting. Lando's hands found the back of her head, pushing it down until her nose met his pelvic bone. He lost himself in the feeling of her mouth, his cock pulsating as he moaned out quietly. Her mouth was quickly filled with his cum. "Swallow for me." She did as she was told, looking up at him when let her tongue lull out. 

Lando groaned as he stood up, walking leisurely towards the bed side table, his hand quickly met the neck of a bottle, a bottle of Ferrari champagne. She leaned back on the bed as he slammed the bottle on table before looking back at her; spraying the bottle above her. Her skin quickly became sticky with the bubbly liquid. This gave Lando an excuse to suck on her skin again, obsessed, he needed to feel her against him. He licked his way down her abdomen, once he met her cunt he sucked her clit rather aggressively, she moaned at he contact, closing her eyes to bask in the feeling. He wasted no time slipping his fingers between her slick lips. He began to scissor slowly, hungry to hear her whines at him stretching her out. He was relentless in licking her clit, switching from slow circles to shaking his head side to side, pushing his tongue down flat and hard got the best reaction from her, so he was persistent; curling fingers every now and then to receive an extra gasp. Her heels began to dig into the mattress as her pelvis began to rise; he would gorge on the sweetness leaking out of her cunt. She was quickly becoming drunk on the feeling of her blooming pleasure; rolling out a song of moans and hums. Her hips began to twitch against his face, the orgasm was a sight to behold, let a lone something too feel as her mind began to melt as he sucked and licked aggressively. She didn't know whether she wanted to pull him closer or pull away. The stimulation was too much and she began to see stars in her new found haze, moaning out curses with a mix of his name. Lando pulled away, flashing his teeth in the process of smirking. 

Once she caught her breath, he leaned closer brining the bottle with him. "Open, baby." he tilted the bottle back, letting the champagne pour into his mouth, but his Adams apple didn't bob. He grabbed her jaw and let the alcohol spill into her mouth, she swallowed quickly, wanting to feel his lips on her, he was intoxicating, a feeling she hadn't had in a long time. She was so focused on him that she didn't register being flipped over onto her stomach. Lando pulled her hips up, supporting her weight slightly. She pushed up onto her elbows as he spoke. "You gonna be good? yeah?" he said with a tinge of sass, smacking her ass lightly. She nodded, moaning out as a verbal response. He chuckled before sliding his cock through her lips, she clawed at the now wet sheets, unable to control her self. Lando started slow needing to pace himself slightly, just kissing her got him so worked up, “Fuck.” He strained, becoming more breathless with each thrust. As he continued to press into her, she couldn’t help but clench around him, the way he was hitting all the right spots, touching her skin, groaning in pleasure, made it all that much harder not to cum then and there. His hand made contact with her ass In sequence with the thrusts, the sting was painful and yet it felt euphoric, she groaned into the bedding at the feeling.

Once he pushed in to the hilt, she arched her back further, not being able to contain herself for much longer. Hot breaths filled the air, which was already filled with sex and desire.

Lando’s hand make work up her back before drawing shapes on her shoulders. His hand soo reached her scalp, where he grabbed a fist full of her hair and tugged lightly; ensuring she wouldn’t object before he pulled rather hard, causing her back to reach his chest. He kept her hair in his hand while sucking on her neck, she wanted to feel everything and he made it happen. “Oh, please Lando, please.” She asked, gasping for air after each word.

“Why? Can’t hold it?” He teased, not that he was any better off. She just felt so good and her reactions only heightened the sensation. She whined in response as he thrusted deeper inside of her pulsating cunt. He groaned in her ear before speaking again, “you didn’t answer my question baby.” He was being cocky, but in a way he knew would only turn her on further. “I can, I swear.” Her words were slurring together, making it that much more obvious that she was on the edge of euphoria. She reached around him, grabbing his waist for some support, she could barely hold her head up anymore, the over stimulation setting in quicker than she anticipated.

Lando’s hand slid back down to her clit, aiding in the blissful feeling. Rubbing figure eights over her cunt while thrusting harder made her moan louder in between heavy breaths. He was smirking into her neck, knowing how good he was making her feel. She could feel his teeth against her skin, he was biting down, almost as if to hide his voice, muffling the groans. “That’s it baby, cum for me.” He said, voice dropping an octave for a mere second. She did as she was told, practically spasming in his arms as she let out guttural moans. The feeling of her clenching caused Lando’s cock to twitch. A mix of their cum dripped down her legs and into the bed.

“Good, so good for me. Makin me feel so good baby.” Lando whispered, pulling out. He ran his hands over her body gently, it almost tickled. By the time he got under the covers, she was already asleep; hair tangled, make up smudged and skin dotted in marks that would be hard to cover with the clothes she was wearing, or lack there of. Lando was happy, it was more than the post orgasmic haze, something about her was just right. He didn’t stop touching her, keeping his arms tight around her body to keep her warm, knowing the alcohol would wear off. He felt like he’d accomplished something more than just a win.

When Lando woke up at half past eleven, skin stuck to the bedding he was surprised and confused, until he remembered, partly, what had happened that night. He looked to his side, only to find an empty bed. He shot up, quickly looking around the room for any sign of the night. He walked through the whole “room”, past the tables and sofa, only to be met with silence. Lando walked back to the bed sorrowful, knowing his flight would leave in an hour, so he decided he needed to get ready.

Once he opened the bathroom door he first noticed it was still quite warm, it wouldn’t have been because he’d used it more than 24 hours ago. The condensation on the glass was new. Someone had definitively used his shower. Wrapping a towel around his body as he left, Lando went to his suitcase to pick up some clothes for the flight, he again noticed something was off. One of his hoodies was missing. In an attempt to find it he stumbled upon a pair of white lace underwear across the room. He was please that he didn’t imagine last night, but was disappointed she wasn’t still there. Lando was broken out of his trance when he heard the sound of a notification from his phone.

“Hope you wore a condom xx”-Daniel

Any mistakes let me know.

Part Two

[macfrog]

sex on fire | masterlist

ceo!joel miller x f!reader | ao3 | playlist

you've worked for joel miller for three years now, as his personal assistant. answering calls, organizing his schedule, fulfilling every request he could dream of. it pays well, you know you're good at it, and you get along with all of your coworkers. there's just one you get along with...a little too well.

please check out individual chapter content warnings before reading!!! this series features adult content.

series warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel is late 40s), inappropriate work relationship, cursing, alcohol + dr*g use, displays of wealth, daddy kink, sugardaddy!joel, themes of abandonment, mentions of pregnancy & periods, smut, angst, fluff.

main series

chapter 1: you shook me all night long

chapter 2: state-of-the-art

chapter 3: mile high

chapter 4: la petite mort

chapter 5: faire l'amour

chapter 6: ace

chapter 7: 1691 maple

chapter 8: you'll hurt me if you don't trust me

chapter 9: little aphrodite

chapter 10: champagne problems

chapter 11: twin flame

chapter 12: birth of venus

✨ epilogue ✨

bonus

➵ hanging on the telephone

drabbles

➵ joel taking reader on his sailboat

features ➵ sex on fire wallpapers by @dundienominee

➵ sex on fire moodboard by @5oh5

[love-belle]

i should hate u !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their post break-up era is them using shady captions to communicate and the media and fans being confused.

or

for when you loved them too much. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // max verstappen x fem!reader

sequel - today and tomorrow and every day after that ⋆·˚ ༘ *

warnings - language

author's note - hello!!! i really hope u like this <3 i was initially gonna do daniel ricciardo one first but i already had 1/2 of this done so i just decided to post this :) thank u sm for reading <3 i love u

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f1news y/n y/l/n and max verstappen called it quits almost a month ago and it seems like they didn't end on good terms at all. the singer, at her london show last night, threw shade at her ex-boyfriend, saying and we quote, "the next song wouldn't have been possible without this one dude who inspired it obviously. so — here's 'i should hate you'. spoiler alert, i do. thank you!" the reason for the split is still unknown but sources who claim to be close to the pair said that 'it was bound to happen — with their different goals and plans for the future," seemingly referring to the talks that y/l/n wanted to get married and verstappen didn't. both of them have yet to comment on the situation. for more details, click on the link in our bio.

278 comments

username WOAH

username pause.

username ahahahahaha say what.

username oh my god 💀💀💀

username NOT HER CONFIRMING THAT I SHOULD HATE YOU IS ABT MAX

username no bc the way her voice cracked so many times in between the songs like girlie is angry AND hurt

username OH MY GOD

username i genuinely have no words

username omg the photos are NOT of her shading max. it's her laughing at a fan who yelled "you're the baddest bitch of all baddest bitches" at her

-> username YEAH LIKE SHE WAS SO CLOSE TO CRYING WHEN SHE SANG ISHY

username my delusional ass thinking they ended on good terms 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username nah it's so champagne problems and you're losing me kinda thing i can't handle this whatcthe fucj

username OH WHATCTHEBFUCJ

username me getting the big guns out to defend her AND max with my LIFE

username still processing their breakup give me a year to digest this information

username STOP WHAT THE FUCK

username my parents ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

username no bc she's genuinely such a sweet person so if she said this max must've done something 😭😭😭😭😭

-> username STOP NO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username can't believe she's saying this about a dude for whom she wrote "feels like" for like wow.

username I WAS AT THAT SHOW AND SHE LOOKED SO SAD AFTER SHE SAID THIS I FELT SO BAD

-> username SHE ALSO STARTED CRYING WHEN SHE FINISHED SINGING I MISS U IM SORRY AND ZARA (HER LEAD GUITARIST) HAD TO RUN AND CONSOLE HER

-> username AND SHE SAID THAT THE LAST MONTH HAS BEEN HARD ON HER AND SHE APOLOGIZED IF THE SHOW WASN'T AS GOOD AS THE OTHERS

-> username NAH MOTHER ATE AS ALWAYS

username y'all saying this but not the fact that she ALSO said "in another life we would've worked but im grateful for everything i had because for a moment you were mine"

-> username MY HEART JUST BROKE WHATCTHEBFUCK

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carlossainz55, pierregasly and 799,155 others

maxverstappen1 i know i say that i am better now, spoiler alert, i am

8,926 comments

username the way my jaw dropped

username THE PICTURES

username GODDAMN

username someone take away y/n's phone before she hits back 💀💀💀

-> username the way i know that she would absolutely destroy him

username NOT THE PHOTOS OMG

danielricciardo spoiler alert, also a liar

-> maxverstappen1 you promised you wouldn't snitch

username he definitely cried while posting this idc

username max babe it's okay to admit that u miss ur wifey bc same 💔💔💔

-> username "wifey" girl he didn't even wanna marry her

-> username not another word.

username funny haha 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 im crying 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 now get back with mom.

landonorris no you're not

-> maxverstappen1 i will block you

username lando and daniel exposing max 💀💀💀

username no bc he probably cries whenever he remembers that he fumbled a baddie like y/n

username "it's all better with you ❤️"

-> username i could've gone along with my day without seeing that just saying

-> username delete that RIGHT NOW before i start crying

username missing max simping for y/n like ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

charles_leclerc i swear i can hear you crying from my hotel room

-> maxverstappen1 WE'RE NOT EVEN IN THE SAME HOTEL

username the way im SO sure he heard y/n saying that she hates him and that was the moment he gave up

-> username nah bc he was one of the "my girl's mad at me i hope i die" kinda guys

-> username wonder how he's surviving this tbh

username I CAN'T TAKE THIS SERIOUS IM SORRY THE POST IS JUST TOO FUNNY

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yourusername i hate you lol

12,628 comments

username HELP

username she could only get this much in before her manager took away her phone ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

*liked by yourusername*

username no bc girl had a lot to say she's just trying to keep it cute

*liked by yourusername*

username the way i know y/n FOUGHT for the right to post this caption

username this is MILD bc i know y/n can be ruthless 😭😭😭😭😭😭

landonorris "in love" alright.

-> yourusername IT'S FOR THE AESTHETIC

username mother and father are fighting i can't take this what tye fyxk

username 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username mother slays everyday just saying

username no bc if y/n ever said ihy to me i would give up just a thought

lilymhe pretty bitch

-> yourusername u sure that's not u?????

username i REALLY hope she's at the next gp

-> username no bc the way max and her meeting would definitely be more entertaining than the race itself

username NOT THE SONG LYRICS WHAT HAVE U PLANNED

-> username oh fuck that broke my heart what the fuck

username missing my man max in the comments section being a whipped bitch so bad ://////

carmenmmundt can't wait to see you darling 🤍

-> yourusername counting down the seconds omg i missed u!!!!!!

username y/n's manager has her on lockdown i can tell 💀💀💀

-> username with what she said at her last show i wouldn't be surprised

landonorris the post has reached the target and the target is currently eating ice cream while singing your songs

-> yourusername OH OKAY

-> yourusername good to know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

username she's so pretty it's not fair wtf

username the caption omg

-> username it's SO mild compared to what i was expecting tbh 💀

username slay

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maxverstappen1 it's all better now

comments are disabled for this post

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liked by carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc, landonorris and 2,829,626 others

yourusername and i swear to god i'd kill you if i loved you a less hard

13,728 comments

username SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

username OH MY GOD

username IS THAT MAX WHATCTHEBFUCK

username NOT Y/N SOFT LAUNCHING HER EX BOYFRIEND

username GIRL 😭😭😭😭 get up

username this is INSANE

username MOTHER?????? WHAT IS THIS??????

danielricciardo the most stressful week of my life if we're being for real

-> yourusername u can send m*x the therapy bill

-> maxverstappen1 don't. i did not agree to that.

username HER SONG LYRICS OH MY GOD

username SHE WROTE THIS SONG FOR MAX 😭😭😭😭😭😭

username okay but like. are we SURE that's max?????

-> username i simply refuse to believe that it's someone else so yes. that IS in fact max.

username OKAYYYYYYY

username did NOT see this coming in a thousand years

username obviously VERY happy for them but y/n censoring max's name is so fucking hilarious like

-> yourusername babe it's m*x

-> username my bad ur absolutely right it's m*x

-> maxverstappen1 this is bullying

username DID HE PUT A RING ON IT WHATXTHEBFUCK

-> username NO BC THAT WOULD MAKE SM SENSE

username so i lost SLEEP over nothing????????

maxverstappen1 nice pants

-> yourusername thanks they would look better on ur floor

-> maxverstappen1 say less

-> username i think i just died whatcthebfuxk

-> username oh they're GOOD now

username imagine they just drop engagement photos out of the blue then what.

-> yourusername imagine lol

-> username WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

username i just know y/n's eating up every moment of this chaos

-> maxverstappen1 demons thrive in chaos so

-> yourusername well! it was nice to reconcile for a couple days, goodbye now.

username im crying whayctrhbfcuk

landonorris mother father

-> yourusername child

-> maxverstappen1 no

-> username ah yes the four family members mother father child and no

username THE HEART THE EVERYTHING THEM

username they STILL don't follow eachother LMFAO

[13uswntimagines]

Spiral (Alessia Russo X MMA!R)

Request: Could you maybe do something where less isn’t around to help r through something and r is spiraling more and more while needing someone to bring her back. One of Alessia's teammates has to kind of shout at r and tell her to kneel or something for her to be grounded featuring Mary (and Lucy slightly)

Part of The come Down universe

Warming: D/s elements. Blood and violence (mentioned but nothing graphic- R punches a wall several times).

It was easy for people to believe that you had an easy life, filled with nothing more than champagne problems and affluenza. 

All they saw were the press conferences and interviews after fights where you were riding high on your success. They didn’t see the weeks where you trained upwards of 18 hours a day and ate so strictly that even your water content was measured. 

They didn’t see how difficult it was to balance your career and Alessia’s, and the weeks you sometimes went apart. 

They didn’t see the nagging injuries that followed you like old ghosts. 

And they thought the 1% of your life they saw was enough context for them to make assumptions about the rest of your life, including your relationship with your girlfriend. 

You had never been big on social media, but that didn’t mean you were entirely shielded from it. 

Especially not when the date for your title fight against Justin Gathje was announced. 

Dana wanted you to hype the fight, to make a comment about how wild Justin was in the cage, and how your far more technical style would be a good match. 

And you thought the spare moments you had sitting in Alessia’s national team cubby while she did her final lap around Wembley for the fans was the perfect moment. 

But as you flicked through your Twitter app, you, realized very quickly that it was a terrible idea. 

Justin had already commented on the fight and accompanied his post with pictures of you in the stands a Wembley dressed in your girlfriend's jersey and one of him sweating in the gym. 

I think a championship contender should at least be putting in the work instead of fucking off with a bitch who deserves better. #gonnasilencethegolddigger

You knew that it was a stupid post. It made no sense because the fight was 20 weeks away, and starting training camp now, three days post-fight, would only lead to burnout and injuries. 

You knew that it was completely untrue considering you had met Alessia at UNC where you had a nice wrestling scholarship and she had a soccer one. There had been no gold to dig. 

But that didn’t stop the general public from hopping on the hate train. 

There were thousands of replies, and mentions and posts clogging your feed about how undeserving you were. 

About how awful of a fighter you were. 

About how Alessia deserved someone who could support her. 

But it wasn’t the comments from the general public that bothered you. 

It was the ones from her former teammates that dug into your brain and stuck. 

Her own family didn’t want her so much they shipped her off to America, so it’s sad she’s dragged a stand-up baller like Lessie into her mess. She didn’t deserve her state championship either. #alwaysridingcoattails.

Her own family didn’t want her

Dragged Lessie into her mess

The words burned into your mind, so you saw them every time you closed your eyes, getting more and more bold each time the number of interactions went up. 

1000

15,000

300,000

2,000,000

You launched your phone across the room, uncaring how it smashed into a million pieces on the stone like it would smash the image on the screen. 

Like it would shatter the tweet and the shots coming from people who had never met you. 

Like it would change how right they were. 

You breathed in deeply, trying to quell the growing ache in your chest and soothe the feelings bubbling in your stomach. 

Alessia’s scent surrounded you, filling your lungs and coating all of your senses. It was normally like a balm on an open wound or ice for a burn, the remedy to your anxiety and a promise that she was there for you. 

That she would always be there. 

That promise was part of the reason your relationship took the dynamic it did. 

Except this time, her scent didn’t loosen the knot in your chest. 

It just reminded you how much you took from her. How much better off she would have been if you had never run into her at UNC. 

You shoved yourself out of Alessia’s locker, you didn’t deserve to sit in it and paced the small room. 

The walls felt like they were getting closer together, and the air felt too heavy. 

You couldn’t breathe.

You needed release. 

You paused at the far end of the room, staring at the white concrete. 

Your fist hit the cold concrete before you even thought about it, and you relished in the pressure of the hard surface on your exposed knuckles. It was more than when you hit pads, more than when you hit someone else. 

It was perfect. 

You did it again. 

You weren’t enough. You hadn’t been for your parents. You wouldn’t be enough for Alessia either. 

Your fist hit the wall again. 

That’s what everyone had been saying for months. That’s what your father told you when you tried to make amends. 

You could see how right they were. 

Stupid worthless 

You hit the wall again. 

How much better off they would be without you. 

“Y/n?”

You didn’t even blink at Ella’s voice. 

You weren’t good enough. How could you ever be?

You had been birthed by two drug addicts more interested in their own highs than in raising a child. Your neighborhood MMA gym was the only place you had ever found food and safety. How could you ever be enough for Alessia who had been raised by loving parents? Who didn’t have to scrape and claw for food scraps? 

Who didn’t crave the freedom you found in total violence. In the destruction of a human. 

In the destruction of herself. 

“Y/n stop,” 

Hands gripped your shoulder, trying to prevent your arm from moving as you launched it again at the slightly pink wall. 

It didn’t work. 

Your hand slammed into the wall again. 

It wasn’t enough. It didn’t hurt enough to ease the volcano in your chest. 

You needed more. 

“Y/n please,” 

Ella’s voice sounded very close to your ear and stinger arms wrapped around your stomach, trying to force you away.

A guttural sound left your lips as the arms were finally able to pull you away, and Lucy stepped between you and your only solace. 

You needed it. 

“Calm down,” Mary hissed, her arms tugging you again. 

You were too out of it to wonder when she had gotten there. 

“Go get Alessia,” Lucy said, looking over your shoulder towards who you assumed was Ella. “Now,” 

You fought against the arms restraining you. 

Keeping you from the only thing that would make the ripping feeling in your brain go quiet. 

The door slammed shut and you were forced back another step by strong arms. 

“Y/n you need to relax, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Lucy held her hands up as she took a step towards you like you were a wild animal. 

And you supposed you were. 

Wild and out of control. Spiraling into oblivion. 

Lucy Met Mary’s eyes when you fought harder in the keeper's hold, your eyes wildly flickering as your limbs flailed. 

This was well out of their ability to fix. 

“We have to do it,” Lucy said, and Mary instantly knew what she meant. 

Mary nodded once. 

She knew you better than Lucy did, so she knew it had to be her if they wanted it to work. 

It was the only thing she could think of to help you. 

The thing that Alessia would do for you 

They had only seen it happen once. 

It was the only time the keeper had seen your dynamic's heavier side. The only time Alessia looked truly dominant, and you looked submissive. 

Mary squared her shoulders, drawing up to her full height, picturing in her mind the way Alessia had touched you and the tone that she had used. Soft, but dripping in authority that had shocked Mary. 

She tried to remember the words your girlfriend had used, the way her fingers pressed perfectly into your skin to make you melt. 

She pulled away from you slightly, drawing her hand from your stomach to land heavily on the space where your shoulder met your neck. 

“Y/n,” She said mimicking the sheer dominance that Alessia’s voice held that night. “I think that’s enough darling. Kneel for me,” 

You froze. 

A shiver ran the full length of your spine at the familiar words, and your shoulders rolled like a physical weight had been added to them. 

You blinked as the order filtered through the fog in your brain, registering that though it was familiar, the voice that had given it was not. 

Her arm loosened around your middle as all of the fight left you, but she kept the grounding hand on your neck. 

You leaned into it, breathing in through your nose and very slowly releasing it through your clenched teeth. 

You sagged with each exhale, sinking very slowly until you were kneeling at Mary’s feet. 

Your head bowed, and you rested your hands palm up on your knees as another rattling breath left you, pressing back into the hand still on your neck like it was the only thing keeping you from floating away into oblivion.

Mary stood frozen, staring at you as you fixed your posture (Alessia hated it when you slouched) and all of the tension, her eyes darting up to meet Lucy’s. 

She hadn’t been sure that it would work. That you would listen to it because she wasn’t Alessia. But now that it had, she wasn’t sure what to do. 

She didn’t know what came next, or how to navigate it without crossing your boundaries. 

“Good job Y/n,” Lucy said, keeping her voice as soft as Mary’s. “We’re just going to stay here and calm down, alright?”

You let out another shuddering breath, more ripples quaking down your spine, and Mary very gently ran her thumb in circles at the back of your neck, hoping it would help to keep you settled. 

She knew it was the touch Alessia always took when you were anxious or nervous, but she was also very much aware that she was not Alessia. 

“And then we’ll get one of the trainers to look at your hand after Lessie gets here,” The defender continued, her eyes trained on where your jeans were slowly turning red with the blood from your hand. 

“But for now, we’re going to just stay right here,” Mary repeated, letting her thumb graze the nape of your neck. 

*******

“Less,” Ella’s voice cut through the sounds of the fans calling for Alessia’s attention, the panic in it drawing the strikers eyes before the midfielder skidded to a stop beside her. 

“What’s happened?” Alessia asked, passing the shirt she was signing back to the young girl who had handed it to her. 

“Y/n,” Ella panted, her eyes wide, afraid despite the cameras pointed their way. “I’ve never seen her like that,” 

Alessia frowned, turning away from the fans and wrapping an arm around Ella’s shoulder to give them some semblance of privacy. 

“Seen her like what?” She asked, her tone low with something… darker lingering under the surface. 

Ella shook her head, unable to describe it with words. “I need you to come, quickly,” 

“Ok,” Alessia agreed, following after the midfielder with little question. 

She knew that whatever had happened had to be bad to cause that look. To have Ella say it in front of the fans. 

Ella sprinted back towards the tunnel with Alessia on her heels, weaving between equipment people, and players until they reached the locker room. 

Leah stood outside the door, directing players to the other showers. 

Alessia’s frown deepened. “What’s going on?”

“We thought a smaller audience would be better,” Leah murmured, stepping aside for them. “Looks pretty brutal mate,” 

Ella patted her back and she stepped towards the door, steeling herself for whatever was inside as she pressed it open. 

Her breath caught in her chest as she took in the scene in front of her. 

It looked like something out of a slasher film. 

Red covered one of the white stone walls, dripping onto the gray floor in dime-sized circles to where you were sitting. No kneeling between Mary and Lucy, a dark patch forming from where it had soaked into your jeans. 

Her jaw clenched at your position. 

It was hard for people to understand but kneeling was something… intimate between the two of you. It was a show of the trust that you had for her to take care of you. A way to reinforce the power dynamic in your relationship. 

It had taken you a long time to feel comfortable enough to let yourself be vulnerable enough to kneel for her, and she treasured how willing you were now. How you seemed to… crave the position. 

For someone else to put you there didn’t sit well with her. 

Neither did the way Mary’s hand was holding the back of your neck. 

“What happened?” She grit out, her eyes flitting between your form and the two women on your either side. 

“we’re not entirely sure. We just caught the tail end,” Mary murmured, her thumb rubbing soothing circles onto your skin. 

Your eyes were closed, but Alessia could see the tension in your posture. She could see how on edge you were. 

How close you were to subspace. 

She snooker her head. “And you thought that this was the solution?”

She wanted to scream at her friends. To give them a lecture about consent and safety and trust (even though you wouldn’t be kneeling for them if you didn’t trust them). 

They didn’t know your boundaries. This hadn’t been discussed. What if it went wrong and they didn’t recognize the signs of you passing the point of consent? 

She knew you often leaned into the dynamic you shared to calm down. To let go, but she knew your limits. She knew your safe word. 

She knew all of the signs to look for, because you craved pain when you felt unstable (a habit that had lingered from your childhood), and you wouldn’t always vocalize your limits. 

She worried how far backward you would slip after this. 

“It was the only way I could think of to get her to calm down. She wasn’t responding to anything else Less,” Mary explained, her voice very soft and gentle. “I tried to do exactly what you do,” 

“We also stayed away from honorifics,” Lucy added. “We knew we were overstepping a bit as it was and didn’t want to push further than we had to,” 

Alessia wanted to snort that overstepping was an understatement, but she didn’t. 

That wouldn’t help you. 

Avoiding honorifics had been a very thoughtful touch. 

That would have sent you careening into sub-space, and she doubted either of them could have handled that. 

“Alright,” She said, taking a deep breath. 

She would need to talk to them later, but right now, her priority was you. 

And getting to the bottom of what happened. 

Of what changed in the 10 minutes you had been left alone. 

She settled herself on the bench, placing her sweatshirt on the ground near her feet to act as a cushion for you, and taking a deep calming breath before she let her eyes fall on you. 

“Babygirl,” Her voice came out stern, but not angry, and for the first time, you raised your gaze from the floor to meet hers. “Come here,” 

She gestured towards the spot at her feet, and without hesitating, you carefully pulled out of Mary’s grasp and crawled to her. 

Her fingers weaved through your hair, and she guided you to rest your cheek on her thigh once you settled on the sweatshirt. “What’s going on sweet one? Talk to me,”

You nuzzled into the soft skin of her leg as her nails dragged against your scalp, trying to remember how to speak. 

How to form words that would accurately describe the tearing feeling in your chest. 

“Not enough,”

The words were horse as they left your lips, heavy and wet like they had been pulled from the depths of your soul. 

Alessia hummed, her nails digging more deeply into your hair. “What’s not enough?”

Your breath rattled in your chest, shaking through you to your core. 

At the depths of it, you were not enough. 

You would never be enough. 

“I’ll go get a doc,” Lucy murmured before you heard the sound of the door. 

“What is not enough,” Alessia asked again, more insistent. 

“I’m not enough, Miss,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Alessia tutted. “We both know that’s not true,” 

You groaned. 

It was true. The whole internet believed it. 

“It is,” You insisted, pulling away from her warm hold to meet her eyes. “Everyone believes it,” 

“Who is everyone?” Alessia pressed, staying calm and even. Being your stability. 

“I think this has something to do with it,” Mary said, and your eyes snapped to her, where she was holding your demolished phone, the tweets still lighting up the screen. 

You had forgotten she was still here. 

“What is it?” 

Alessia held her free hand out for it, using the other to settle you back against her thigh. 

“Bullshit,” Mary answered, passing the phone to your dominant, moving slowly around you, like she was afraid to spook you. 

Alessia hummed, flicking through the images on your cracked screen. 

The room was silent as she read the words that had set you off, and you let your eyes slide closed, enjoying her closeness. 

Enjoying the ability to let go, and trust that she would take care of it. 

You ignored the sound of the door opening again, and feet approaching you and Alessia. You didn’t care if people saw you. You knew that she would defend you if you needed it. 

“Sweet girl,” Alessia said, fingers tightening in your hair, and you opened your eyes to meet hers over the phone. “Let them look at your hands,” 

Your eyes flickered towards the medics, kneeling in front of you, Lucy standing protectively behind them with Mary. 

You hummed, slowly lifting your dominant hand and holding it out towards the medic. 

He took it gently between his own and began to examine it with a frown. 

“I think she needs x-rays,” He said, looking over you towards Alessia who was still scrolling through your feed. “And I can wrap it after that,” 

“Alright,” She said, putting your phone down. “We’ll meet you in the training room in just a moment. Can you three give us a second?”

The medic nodded, retreating with Mary and Lucy.

“Take your time,” Mary paused in the doorway. “Me and Luce will get cleaned up and meet you,” 

Alessia let out a sound of agreement. 

She waited for the door to close before she very gently pulled you up from your knees and into her lap. 

You rested your cheek on her chest, tucking your nose into her still-sweaty jersey. 

This time her scent didn’t set you on edge. It joined the feeling of her warm arms wrapped around you and her chin on your head, making you feel safe and warm and cared for, even when you didn’t think you deserved it. 

“You know all of those tweets are bullshit right?” She asked after your breathing had evened out. “They’re just trying to get under your skin,”

You made a low noise, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. 

“You are deserving because you are amazing. You are an incredible fighter, and a good human despite the shit hand you were dealt,” She continued. “I love you, and I will always be here for you. Whether you are the world champion, or we’re eating spam and crackers on my bedroom floor,” 

Your eyes slid closed and you buried your face in her chest, your lips lifting just a bit at the mention of your favorite snack from college. 

From when you were too broke to afford dinner on the weekends. 

It didn’t entirely fix the crumbling feeling that accompanied each beat of your heart, but her words were like a tether holding you to reality. 

She had loved you before you were a UFC star and she was England's Star Girl, and she would love you after. 

That was all that mattered. 

She squeezed you tightly and kissed your head. “Let’s go get your hands fixed and then we can go back to the hotel and watch Love Island before bed, alright?”

You hummed again. 

You knew a talk about your coping mechanism, about the wall you had destroyed, would also be included after you had come down. 

But you didn’t mind. 

You and Alessia would get through it. Together. 

[animasola86]

F o r g e t f u l 🎀 2 / 4

Mistress takes you to a very special night out, reminding you of your place in your unique relationship as she pushes you right into the center of attention.

a dominant woman X a submissive girl with a memory problem

WARNINGS: F!Reader-insert! NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mistress/pet. Domme/sub. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Humiliation. Exhibition(ism). Bondage. Dildo gag. Blindfold. Public groping. Forced orgasm. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 5.5k

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

The ride in the back of the car is a blur. You sit next to Mistress, her hand between your thighs as she fingers you lazily, her eyes fixed through the window, away from you, and you're just a toy to play with, to pass the time as the car weaves through the busy streets, the driver not saying a word, oblivious or used to whatever happens behind him.

She makes you clean her fingers afterward, after edging and teasing you, and you seem to know the drill. You can't come unless she tells you to. It's a heavy thing in the back of your mind, engraved in your brain, and while you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress the urge to let go, you let her handle you like that, because it's her right, isn't it?

Your mind is still hazy, filled with a strange kind of cotton that pushes on any thought that may come in the way, of protest, of confusion, of fear and shame. Those flicker up, occasionally, like fireflies, only to be squashed by something else, by the dizzy spell making your head spin, the throbbing heat in your stomach, the tension in your muscles, whenever she touches you. It doesn't matter then, it's only her fingers under your coat, on the little sliver of skin as she guides you through a crowd of people, the warmth of her body next to yours, her dominating presence as she meets strangers and talks to them, smiling, all professional, and you're just a girl beside her, small and unassuming, or so you think.

The lights are bright as you enter the building, warm air hits your face, makes you blink. Someone takes your coat, her hand is around yours as she pulls you along, the sound of your heels echoing through the vast room. Confusion fights through the fog in your head as you turn your gaze this way and that, finding strangely familiar sights in front of your hazy eyes.

You're in a gallery of some sort, a giant room sectioned off into smaller rooms, high ceilings vanishing into darkness, low hanging lights getting dimmer the further you go. There are large prints on the walls, but you can't quite make out what they portray yet. People wearing elegant dresses and expensive looking suits stand in clusters in front of them, holding champagne flutes, talking amongst themselves. Some turn their heads to you when you pass, a strange expression on their blurry faces.

You follow Mistress, her hand tight around yours, your heart beating faster. She guides you through various rooms, all filled with large photographs spanning the walls and people in front of them, and it's when you reach the last room, where the lights are slightly different, that you notice what they show.

It's you.

Similar motifs like you've found in your roommate's desk, pictures of your body, your holes, your glassy eyes, your lips strained around a gag, your hands bound behind your back, your skin marked by intricate rope patterns. You feel the heat rushing into your cheeks, your ears, your entire head flares up in shame as you realize that you're not just her muse (for her to take pictures of she can enjoy on her own, hidden away in her room), but a canvas for every single person in this city and beyond to marvel at.

You feel sick, your stomach cramping up badly as you squeeze her hand, your own shock fighting to get past the cotton in your head. This can't be happening. Your eyes flicker over the groups of people standing in front of blown up pictures of your cunt, stuffed with various toys and items, a whole wall full of unflattering close-ups that lead into a full body shot of you tied to a bed, wrists and ankles held by cuffs, arms and legs spread, as thin metal chains hang from the ceiling, attached to the little clamps that are holding your nipples and your pussy lips.

You ache just looking at it, your breasts tensing up. Your gaze wanders further, to the next wall, this one dedicated to your ass and various things being shoved into it. You feel like crying, and it gets only worse when you realize there are TV screens mounted between the pictures. While the photos show a moment captured in time, the screens show videos of how those moments came to be: you see the white-gloved hand and how it moves various objects in and out of your holes, a sickening motion, in and out, and you notice there's even sound, overlapping moans and whines and lewd squelching noises, echoing from a total of six TVs arranged around the room.

Your stomach drops, your throat tensing up, you can barely breathe. And the people in the room seem to realize that it's you who is being portrayed like this, and they stare at you, some with neutral looks, some leering and excited, some with disapproving or arrogant scowls. You press closer to Mistress as she stops in the middle of the room. She looks at you then, a soft smile on her face. You feel like fainting, it's all too much, but then she reaches her free hand up to caress your warm cheek, and you freeze, staring at her, the panic in your head pausing under the touch.

“What's the matter, pet?” she whispers. “Don't be shy now, you're a star, my dear,” she adds, leaning down to brush her lips against your ear. “They are all here for you. Just for you...”

You frown slightly, trying to focus on her instead of the noises around you, the sounds coming from the TVs, the chatter and laughter and hushed whispers. Your heart is beating in your throat, right against the tight collar, your muscles clenching around the plug and around nothing, your body seemingly adjusting to your surroundings while your mind still fights whatever is going on here. You cling to the tall woman in front of you, your eyes pleading her to take you back, take you away, stop this humiliation.

But she only tilts her head, her thumb moving along your bottom lip, before she says something that makes you freeze, both in shock and in the strangely familiar urge to please.

“On your knees.”

And you do as you're told. Of course you do. You go down, perched on the balls of your feet with your heels pressing into your rear, and you square your shoulders and fold your arms behind your back, pushing your chest out, looking up at her with your eyes glazing over and your mind going empty.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my dear guests,” Mistress then raises her voice, her gaze still fixed on you as she addresses the people around you. “Welcome to another night of sinful sensations, tantalizing touches, unknown urges and frivolous fun. Please gather around, don't be shy,” she adds, finally looking away from you and around the room, beckoning the strangers closer, her arms spread wide as she smiles her beautiful smile. “The show will begin shortly. My assistants will bring you an assortment of objects, and I ask you to choose one each, and wait your turn. Oh and don't forget to take a pair of gloves, we don't want to leave any compromising evidence, now do we?”

She laughs, and several people join in, while you kneel before her, focusing on her, trying to ignore the shuffle around you. Your heart is thundering in your chest, your head spinning out of control. And despite the humiliating nature of whatever is happening, you feel your arousal drenching your underwear, a sticky slick that rivals the hot tears burning in your eyes. Your chest rises and falls as you breathe rapidly through your nose, your lips pressed into a thin line to keep them from trembling.

The hand on your elbow startles you, but it's only Mistress as she urges you into a standing position again. She gives you a gentle nod, and you follow on shaking legs as she walks to a strange contraption in the middle of the room, some sort of bench in an X-shape, right in the center, surrounded by the pictures of you, by the videos of an anonymous hand shoving phallic objects into your holes, the sounds that echo from the screens pointed directly at you, a weird garbling of moans and helpless cries, overlapping in a disorienting fashion.

A horrible vertigo grips you as you stumble forward, gently pushed by the woman behind you, and before you know it, you end up lying on your back, a soft cushion beneath you, your head hanging off the edge while your legs are raised up, your limbs fitted perfectly into the shape of the bench-like thing. As you look up, you realize there's a large mirror right above you, and you meet your own frightened gaze, eyes wide, pupils dilated, a strange gloss in them that could either be tears or something else entirely. While your legs are spread (and tied at the ankles by a pair of unknown women) and your arms are arranged in a T-pose (with your wrists being tied down as well), the rest of your body is secured by a large leather strap spanning over your stomach.

You struggle slightly, testing your restraints, but nothing budges. Though instead of fueling the panic settling in your belly, you feel weirdly relaxed, soothed by the way you cannot move, knowing you can't escape. And in the back of your cloudy mind you also know: you don't want to anyway. Your gaze wanders to the tall woman standing next to you, smiling down, a camera in her hands.

“You're doing great,” she says softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “My good girl.” Her praise burns through the uneasiness, silences the distress to some extent. Her hand moves around your head, lifting it slightly as her eyes move away from you to something you can't see from your position. And you don't have to, you can feel it.

It's a gag, and as soon as it comes into your view, you feel your heart accelerating. There are two dildos attached to it, one pointing inwards and the other pointing outwards, and the mere idea of having that thing in your mouth and down your throat makes you tense up badly. A whine escapes you before a sigh sounds from beside you. Mistress puts her camera down and steps closer, taking the gag from whoever wanted to shove it into you. She meets your eyes, and even though she's upside down, you calm a little when you look at her.

“You can do this, pet,” she says as she moves the tip of one dildo against your lips. “You've done this before. Many times. You like having things down your throat, remember?”

Her words sink into your muddy mind, burning through the doubts, and even though it feels like an impossible thing to do, you part your lips and allow the object into your mouth. She smiles at you, slowly pushing the silicone toy deeper, it teases the back of your throat, and to your own surprise slips right past your gag reflex, stretching your throat, bulging your neck, sitting tight against the collar. You stare up at her, tears burning in your eyes as she fastens the leather strap around your head, keeping the gag in place.

“Good girl,” she coos, caressing your warm cheeks. “You didn't even gag. I'm so proud of you.”

A weird warmth settles in your stomach, as you watch her, the other dildo attached to the gag slightly obscuring your view. Its sight should disturb you, knowing what it is for, but you're eerily calm, focused on breathing through your nose as the object in your throat just sits there, pressing on your tongue, with saliva already dripping past your lips (the wide leather band of the gag sits loosely against your mouth, allowing you to part your lips and let it drip), and you know you'd only make it worse if you panicked now.

And somehow the image of her riding your face like this gives you a strange kind of comfort, definitely distracting you enough to ignore whatever happens around you. Subdued voices echo through the room, it's eerily quiet, apart from the continuous moans and whines coming from the TVs, sounds you made before, apparently, and you realize you won't be able to make them tonight. Closing your eyes for a moment, letting the tears press past your lashes, you focus on them, trying to imagine (remember) the scenarios that caused you to sound like this.

You've only seen the pictures, you have no memories of doing any of those things, so you can only assume what it must feel like to be stuffed and used like this. Your body, however, seems to remember it just fine. Arousal pools in your core, drenching your thong, perking up your nipples that strain against the fabric of your bra and top, while goosebumps ripple over your bare arms.

There's more shuffling around you, but you don't want to open your eyes. You can't. It doesn't feel real if you keep them closed, not as intimidating, and it's easier to handle, or so you tell yourself. It's actually strange just how calm you are, strapped to this weird table/bench with your arms and legs spread and tied to individual parts of it, allowing people to stand between them and right next to you, and you can feel them, their warmth and presence, anticipation in the air. Your heart beats faster.

Suddenly you flinch, eyes flying open, a muffled groan escaping you that almost makes you gag around the dildo in your throat, as you feel hands stroking along your arms, in an almost sensual way, synchronized left and right, and the touches end when they shove an object into each hand. You don't dare to turn your head so you look up at the mirrored ceiling, and you realize they've put a pair of thick black dildos into your hands. With how your wrists are tied, you cannot move them, only open and close your fingers around the toys.

You frown slightly, and your confusion is answered when Mistress' velvety voice echoes through the room. “Ladies, some of you are in for a surprise tonight. There are numbers on the base of your selected toys, and if these range from 1 to 5, you are invited to have a special seat on our special Toy. Yes, only the ladies, sorry gentlemen, you can still watch, and if you grabbed one of the special toys, I ask you to give it to a woman of your choice, if they're willing, of course. This is a night of sinful sensations, but consent is of utmost importance.”

Her words sit heavy in your stomach, and you wonder if you really consented to this as well. You can't remember. But then again, there's nothing you can do about it now.

She continues, her voice louder as chatter and shuffling fill the room. “Ladies, if you like, come closer and assume your positions. Dim the lights, please.”

Around you the bright lights turn down, but there are still two spots directed right at the center, illuminating your body and enough of your limbs, but when a bunch of women approach the table, you can barely see their faces. They are guided to your hands and feet, and while the dildos in your clammy hands make sense, you wonder what's the special seat by your feet, until you realize they're probably supposed to sit on the pointy tips of your high heels.

A strange heat crashes through you. It's one thing to imagine Mistress using you, but complete strangers, getting off by humping your shoes of all things and riding the toys you're holding for them? But then nothing seems to surprise you anymore after walking into a gallery filled with pictures of your body, where a willing audience waits for a night of debauchery (and willing and eager they seem with how packed the place is). You're still glad when you see a familiar face looking down at you (upside down again) as Mistress approaches your head.

She caresses your cheeks and wipes a bit of drool off your chin as she smiles down at you. Her hand then moves to the dildo attached to your gag, and the sudden touch moves the one in your throat, pushing it a little deeper. Tears burn under your lashes, but you force yourself to remain calm, breathe through your nose, ignore the obstructing object stuck in your mouth. You see her gliding her fist over the phallic toy, the motion somewhat soothing as you focus on it.

“My dear guests, you came here for a special adventure,” her voice fills the quiet room as she starts talking to the people gathered around the table. You keep your eyes on her as she speaks. “This is art, my friends. Art found in devotion, in submission, in using a canvas of flesh and bones, using it, expanding it, stretching the limits of what's possible, of what's right, of what's conventional. I invite you to explore your own limits tonight, find pleasure in using this devoted pet of mine.”

You blink slowly, mesmerized by her words, but they still poke at the buried confusion and doubts in your mind. That little voice of protest, though, is quickly squashed again by the overwhelming cotton filling your head, a strange sort of excitement mixed with fear and uncertainty, held together by a warm feeling like a caress, a praising word, a soft smile, a gentle touch. It's enough to ignore the meaning behind her words, as straight-forward as they may be.

“You may use her in any way you want, within the confines of the scene. Use your toys, arrange her however you like – ask for assistance if necessary, this table can be moved, allowing you access to both of her holes. After the first round, we will turn her around, so make use of her perky little breasts while you can. Oh, and if you'd like to cut off her clothes, my assistants will provide you with the necessary tools. But enough instructions. I invite you to enjoy yourself. This is art, my friends,” she repeats, her voice rising. “Use it!”

The air changes around you, allowing those doubts to come back after all. More tears gather in your eyes. You feel strangely heavy, pushed into the soft cushions, your restraints cutting into your skin, the dildo in your throat pressing against your airways, making it even harder to breathe. Panic settles hot in your stomach, while cold sweat covers your skin. And no matter how woozy and dizzy you feel, you can't completely ignore the fear crashing through you. But it's not only fear, it's bated anticipation. What will happen next? What will these people do to you?

Of course the pictures and videos all around you give you enough hints, but you felt weirdly disconnected from those. This, however, is real. The gloved hands touching your body are real, the dildos between your fingers are real, the warmth of people standing close but in the shadows is real. Hushed voices fill the room, so many strangers, and you can only hear them, see their hands and the objects they chose in the reflection above you (and some of them make you really anxious).

You want to swallow, but you can't, your saliva running mercilessly past your lips and over your cheeks, and with how your head is angled back, it gathers warm and hot in the shell of your ears and in your hairline. Your fingers twitch around the hard silicone in your grasp, your hips jerking slightly when you feel hands rubbing along your inner thighs.

You know you should be freaking out, but again, you can't. You are so calm it scares you, only letting your body react to what's happening, while your mind has become silent, shut up by whatever is swirling through your system, numbed by whatever was in your water. You blink slowly, focusing your eyes on the dildo protruding from the gag, wondering what it will be like to have someone ride this thing when it's attached to your face like that.

You don't seem to have to wait long when someone steps up to your head, but before you can take a closer look, you feel something soft being put over your eyes, taking another sense from you, a blindfold, and you'd sigh if you could, both slightly relieved you don't have to look up a stranger's crotch as they ride you, but also weirdly disappointed that you cannot look up a stranger's crotch as they ride you. With the room plunged into darkness, all you can do now is listen, listen and feel.

For now they all just seem to explore your body, hands sliding along your sides, up and down your legs, over your clothed chest, some are tickling you, or trying to, as you find yourself unable to react to those teases in your armpits or against your ribs. You're glad you're too far gone to care, because you just know it'd be torture otherwise.

It's almost relaxing, in a way, to be stroked like that, caressed and touched, but as it happens all over your body, all at once, you find yourself quickly overwhelmed by it too. Not being able to see who touches you and where makes it all the more intense. Breathing harder through your nose, your throat working around the dildo stuck in it, you try to focus on the steady beat of your heart, slightly erratic, but not as panicked as it should be.

It almost lulls you for a moment, drowning out the hushed voices around you, the noises of past-you being stuffed full and moaning about it, but when you feel something cold dragging between your breasts, you flinch nonetheless, this time straining your neck, triggering your gag reflex. Your body jerks, your throat clenching around the toy, spit and bile shooting up your esophagus, filling your already filled mouth. You gag again, and panic crashes through you as you can't seem to get rid of all that saliva.

Luckily you feel a pair of hands on your head, turning it so it can drip past your trembling lips, easing the pressure in your throat. Tears burn in your eyes, soaked up by the blindfold. Something like a wet cloth wipes over your cheek, and you relax slowly.

“Easy, pet, everything's alright,” you hear Mistress' soft voice close to you, calming you instantly. “You're doing great. No need to panic.” Her hand moves along your neck, teasing the collar, pressing slightly onto the object in your throat. “Just breathe, it's fine... you can do this. Like you always did, okay? You love this, remember?”

You don't, but you feel too dizzy to fight that sentiment. Your head feels lighter, breathing works, but it's a struggle nonetheless. It helps to be praised and reassured, though, and you focus on the fact that Mistress is right there, looking out for you, making sure you're doing okay. It's a warming sensation in your belly – that almost distracts you from the colder sensation of something gliding under your top and bra.

It feels like metal, and when you hear a quiet snip-snap sound, you know it's a pair of scissors, cutting away your clothes to expose you to your surroundings. As if being strapped to a table and wearing a dildo gag isn't humiliating enough, you realize you are now naked in front of a bunch of strangers whose hands don't miss a beat before they grope at your freed breasts, squeezing and kneading, palms pressing down, fingers pinching your nipples until they hurt.

You let out a muffled whine, squirming against the onslaught of touches, but they keep going, pulling and poking, the squeaky surface of their latex gloves rubbing harshly against your skin. As they do, the scissors move lower, and the same snip-snap sound comes to your ears when your panties fall away. At least they leave your garter belt and stockings, giving you the illusion of still wearing something. But now your cunt is out in the open, and the first hands seem very eager to explore it properly.

Suddenly the table beneath you moves, and you feel your blood shooting into your head as your hips are being lifted while your head is lowered even more. Vertigo grabs you, sending shivers down your limbs, increasing the head spinning and stomach clenching. In this new position, your rear hangs off the edge of the cushion, allowing the bystanders to grab your ass and grope more of your soft flesh. Most of them do, but some go straight to the exposed base of the butt plug, pulling and poking it mercilessly.

You keep squirming, the strap around your stomach holding you down but not enough, allowing you to circle your hips in a grinding motion that seems to entertain the people around you. While the voices have been hushed before, you can now hear snippets of what they're saying – and you somehow wished you wouldn't.

“Look at her, so eager.”

“Can't wait to be stuffed, huh, little slut?”

“Wonder how many she can take. Did they say there was a limit?”

Your breathing quickens, rapid puffs through your nose, chest rising and falling faster against all the hands gripping at you. Your stomach flutters against the tight leather strap, your thighs trembling slightly, toes curling in your shoes. Between all the comments, laughter and other noises, you suddenly hear the faint clicking of a camera, and you just know that Mistress is in the midst of producing a new line of degrading pictures of you.

Somehow, you couldn't care less about that. Being exposed to a room full of strangers, groped and touched and poked at, feels much worse than having aesthetically pleasing pictures taken of your body, though to have lasting evidence of this experience isn't too nice either. But there's nothing you can do anyway, so you focus back on trying to get enough oxygen into your burning lungs, trying to fight the vertigo making your head swirl, just trying to live through it all.

While your nipples are being pinched, your boobs pulled into two different directions, sending sparks down your body, you feel a gloved hand on your throbbing clit, poking and prodding, giving enough pressure to make your thighs twitch, but not enough to ease the tension in your lower stomach. You try to move your hips, find at least a bit of relief, but instead of allowing you the motion, you feel a stinging slap on your mound, then three more in rapid succession, causing you to gasp and ultimately gag around the dildo in your throat as various pains crash through your body, making it jolt against your restraints.

Your head is being supported again, turned to the side to allow the spit to drain from your mouth, as you hear a low voice above you. “Gentlemen, if I may remind you, impact play is not on the agenda until round three. Please be patient.”

You hear hushed voices in response, shuffling noises growing louder before they disappear. You vehemently ignore her mentioning something about 'round three'. A new hand comes to your cunt, much gentler, a soft stroking rhythm of gloved fingers that ease your rapidly beating heart. You relax again, leaning into the hands holding your head before they leave you too. You hear the shutter of the camera again, much closer, while the hand on your center starts parting your labia, slowly rubbing up and down, and you can't help the muffled moans slipping past your gag.

Your hips undulate against the stroking fingers, and this time, they allow it, leaning into it, letting you decide how you want to be touched, at least to an extent. Your hands claw at the dildos you're supposed to hold, the special seats that have yet to be claimed, as you feel your stomach tensing up, the friction of the fingers against your clit the relief you have been looking for all night.

They move with you now, slipping between your slick, poking at the sensitive bud, and you feel your heart accelerating, your breath stuck in your throat, your muscles tightening, your back arching against the leather strap, you're so close, so close, and you almost expect to be left hanging again as it drags on and on, but then... finally... the fingers pinch your clit so hard you can't even handle all of your body's reactions.

First you inhale sharply, on the verge of screaming, tilting your neck in a way that makes you gag, and as your stomach jerks, your hips buck up, your legs kicking in their restraints, toes curling painfully, your muscles contract, clenching hard around nothing and around the plug in your butt, and you come, violently at first, convulsing uncontrollably, before you're swept away by a wave of pleasure that crashes through your body gently, a reverberating tingling from the top of your head all the way down to your cramping toes.

“Well done,” coos a voice in your ear, a hand stroking your sweat-slick face. “And congratulations to the lady who was the first to make her come. If you like her to return the favor, you may choose a special seat now.”

Your breaths are still labored through your nose, but barely any oxygen seems to make it into your lungs with how the gag sits in your throat and how your heartbeat throbs in your jugular, right against the collar, further tightening your neck. Your head is really spinning now, as does the room, seemingly. You're almost glad you're bound the way you are.

But despite the warming feeling of your orgasm, there's something cold sitting deep in your guts. Did you even have permission to come? You can't remember Mistress mentioning anything like that. But then again, she did just praise you for it, didn't she? It's a strange fear that overcomes you, it doesn't really make sense, it's just a feeling, a distant memory of... pain? Of disappointment and shame? Whatever it is, it makes you furrow your brows under the blindfold as new tears seep into the fabric.

Suddenly you feel a pair of hands on your head, someone unfastens the blindfold, and as soon as it's gone, you blink helplessly into the light projected at you. Another light flashes next to you, and you realize you've been photographed. The thought makes it all worse, causing you to really start crying now. A vulnerable moment like this, forever captured and burned onto whatever medium she is using tonight.

You sniffle pathetically, and as you do, you realize that your nose starts stuffing up. Your eyes widen, your breaths hectic as panic grips your limbs. Not good. You look around, trying to find Mistress, but she's moved on to stand by your side focused on the fluttering of your stomach and the way your cunt glistens, her camera clicking away furiously. You see shadows all around you, and white-gloved hands reaching for you, still groping your soft flesh wherever they can.

You try to speak through your gag, but not even the muffled noises you create are loud enough to get through the hushed chatter around you. You struggle on the table, trying to get anyone's attention, while you get dizzier and dizzier, less and less oxygen making it through your nose. Your last resort is to make yourself gag, hoping that someone would notice and help you in your predicament.

Lightheaded as you are, you turn your head, try to strain your neck, force the dildo deeper into your constricted throat, but your muscles seem too lax to react, your gag reflex silenced like the rest of your body. You can barely move, you feel so weak.

Something moves against your twitching fingers, something warm and solid and slightly wet, and you see the shape of someone straddling your bound wrist, skin and soft fabric brushing your cold hand that's tight around the base of the dildo you're supposed to hold. You try to move it, but whoever assumes their special seat right now is more focused on their own enjoyment than your growing distress.

Tears burn in your eyes, saliva coats your cold skin, you feel heavy. The noises around you grow quieter until everything is just gone. No more lights, no more hands, no more lewd sounds echoing through the room. Just darkness. And no air.

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

End notes: So, uh, sorry? I don't know where this vision came from. My mind is deep and dirty, as you know. I hope the night of sinful sensations, tantalizing touches, unknown urges and frivolous fun (aka STUF²... I feel so clever XD) didn't traumatize you too much, because, uh, the next chapter may be even worse. And don't worry, we're getting to the wlw smut soon enough, I promise! (Oh, and Reader is fine, of course!)

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Saturday!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

[stllmnstr]

masterlist

also mortaldreams (18+ blog)

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YANG JUNGWON

sure thing part 1, part 2 — yang jungwon / 23.7k

An employee in the marketing department of a large company, your days are filled with poorly worded emails, unrealistic deadlines, and passive aggressive friendly reminders from your superiors. On a particularly awful afternoon, a chance encounter with a coworker from the programming department down the hall is the first thing to make you smile in weeks.

But the more you uncover about Yang Jungwon and his mysterious injuries, flimsy excuses, and always occupied Friday nights, the more you begin to realize that you really don’t know him at all.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒

starlight — yang jungwon / 13.4k

There’s a word for it. Something that’s whispered behind closed doors, shunned like a bad omen you can’t quite shake.

Glitch. A cruel twist of fate. A failed soulmate match.

Something you’ve been marked as since the countdown on your wrist ticked to 00:00 two long years ago and left you lonelier than ever. Something you’ve been fighting since destiny carved itself into your skin with a dull, lifeless shade of gray.

But fate is a funny thing. And love, as you’ve learned, is often found in the most unexpected places.

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LEE HEESEUNG

sacred monsters [ongoing] — lee heeseung / 70k +

A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒

all the things I never said — lee heeseung / 7.3k

Lee Heeseung has a secret.

It’s scribbled on a forgotten note, tucked away in a bottom drawer, carved with a shaky hand into the aging wood of his childhood treehouse. 

But secrets have their way of coming out. And when Heeseung is forced to confront his long-hidden feelings for his best friend of ten years, things take an unexpected turn.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒

easy mode — lee heeseung / 2.9k

brother’s best friend au / suggestive

breathing room — lee heeseung / 2.5k

enemies to lovers / YA fantasy vibes / suggestive

something old, something new — lee heeseung / 2.3k

exes to lovers / angsty / based on an anon drabble prompt

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SIM JAEYUN

champagne problems part 1, part 2 — sim jake / 48k

The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.

There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.

The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.⭒

signed, sealed, delivered — sim jaeyun / 3k

royalty x commoner au / based on an anon drabble prompt

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PARK SUNGHOON

every fragile thing — park sunghoon / 12.3k

After an ankle injury lands you in mandated physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for nationals, you’re absolutely certain you must be the most frustrated, emotionally volatile figure skater on the planet. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

or,

every fragile thing has one of two choices: become stronger or shatter into a million pieces.

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[spoonfulofmilo]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? He opted to hold her hand during the celebration of the Merc's double podium because there were too many people. "Move through the crowd while holding hands so as to not lose one another – and not letting go afterwards". Just something fluff and comfort. Add something if it's not right. Tag me later!! Thanks :)))

sorry it's so short! but I loved writing this fluff, and honestly churned it out in like 1 hour.

also if you have older requests i am working on them, I am just also working on school work.

luckily, all my assessments are nearly done, and holidays are next week so yay! more updates :)

my masterlist can be accessed here

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

toto wolff x wife!reader

“AND THAT IS A MERCEDES 1-2 TO THROW THIS CHAMPIONSHIP WIDE OPEN AT THE SAUDI ARABIAN GRAND PRIX AND 3 YEARS AFTER WINNING HIS LAST GRAND PRIX HERE, LEWIS HAMILTON HAS WON HIS 104TH CAREER VICTORY AND WHAT A WAY TO DO IT IN HIS LAST SEASON WITH MERCEDES.”

The rest of Crofty’s speech was drowned out by the cheers of the garage around Y/N as the team who had gone so long without winning, especially Lewis’ side of the garage cheered and yelled and as the pit mechanics came back from where they’d been on the fence yelling and contributed to more noise.

Y/N felt a little overwhelmed. She hadn’t really been in the garage since 2021, due to her husband’s tensions during the year and her wish to continue to just focus on her own career. She tried to insist she was the team’s bad luck charm after Abu Dhabi, until people had pointed out that she’d also been there during the dominant 2020 season. And as she had spent 2022 and 2023, which also were not great years for Mercedes, she’d agreed to do a lot more of her work remotely and come to the grand prixs. She insisted that she was bad luck at the first grand prix, and Toto had basically dragged her along to Saudi.

Maybe she was their good luck charm, she thought, as the garage exploded when Max and Sergio had crashed into each other, making both the red bulls retire. The Ferrari’s had been having problems all weekend but no one truly hoped even when they were sitting in a 1-2.

At least until they’d crossed the line. And then they’d had hope. And then the celebrations had begun. Someone had already found champagne and begun spraying it around, no one thinking about the podium, until all of a sudden everyone was and they were all rushing around and Y/N was all caught up in the rush and being pushed around by everyone, trying to find Toto until she felt a hand slip into hers.

She jumped back, not wanting some strange man holding her hand until she looked up and realised that it was in fact her husband who was trying to hold her hand.

“Sorry…didn’t realise it was you.”

“That’s okay Liebe. I’ve got you. Now lets go watch Lewis on the podium, okay?”

The second she nodded in agreement, Toto slipped his hand back into Y/N’s as he tried to push through the crowd again. Being tall and the team principal helped, and as they weren't coming for the pre podium celebrations, which is where everyone else was rushing towards. As the drivers were hugged and yelled at again by the mechanics (honestly how were they going to have voices tomorrow, and how were the red bull mechanics’ voices not very raspy after doing this practically every week for the past few years). Y/N thought she was going to have to cancel her meetings for the next few weeks as she would just be unable to talk.

Toto pushed through the throng of mechanics, pushing through the Mercedes and Williams colours everywhere, trying to get a good position at the front, and then the announcers began, and Toto and Y/N were wedged against the barrier and they decided to stop and watch the podium.

Y/N watched as Albon mounted the podium, grinning to the feral screams of the Williams mechanics to her left. She’d ended up wedged between James and Toto, smiling at James’ excitement on Alex being on the podium. She smiled at him as the noise from the Williams side of the podium celebration. He smiled back, almost bouncing up and down by the excitement of what Williams was achieving. And as Lewis, George and Bono bounded onto the podium, bringing up a round of screaming and even Y/N raised her hands. And as she raised her right hand, she could feel Toto’s hand, still intertwined with hers. She smiled, locking eyes with Toto.

His eyes twinkled as he smiled down, before his attention was brought back to the podium and yelling at the drivers.

The German and British anthems blared out, and while Y/N knew most of the words of the British anthem (it was mostly just the same words on repeat ‘god save our king’). And while Toto was able to sing the German anthem while Y/N butchered it here and there. She loved listening to her husband singing or talking in his natural language. It was very hot, if Y/N had to admit it.

As they left the podium to go back to the garage, Toto had still not let go of her hand as they continued winding between what felt like millions of people crowding the pit lane.

When they finally returned to the Mercedes garage, and walked up to Toto’s office, Toto finally let go of Y/N’s hand and started to gather up his work and laptop to get ready to return to the hotel.

“Hey, toto?”

“Yes liebe?”

“Why were you holding my hand?”

“Well, I didn’t want to get lost, and I didn’t want you to get lost, liebe.”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you let go of my hand when we got to the podium”

“Do I need an excuse to hold your hand, darling?”

“No but…”

“Then I kept holding your hand because I wanted to keep holding your hand. Is that a good enough excuse?”

“Okay Liebe.”

Toto put all his files and laptop in his left hand after shrugging on his overcoat, and then offered his right hand to Y/N.

“Can I keep holding your hand liebe?”

“Of course you can darling.”

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

brutally- r.c. x reader

summary: this is part two of champagne problems-a year after you said no to rafe, you receive a wedding invitation for rafe and sofia's wedding. a/n: this is for the one who asked for part two 🥹 i wrote this at 2 am and my first language isn’t english so bear with me lmaoo, thank you so much to all who've read my silly little story, i honestly didn't think a lot of people would read it. anywayyy i hope you like it <3 warnings: angst (?) depressed reader and low self esteem. oh and swearing lol disclaimer: the reader's depression is based on my own experiences, everybody is different and what i might go through isn't the same as what another person goes through. with that said, if you find any of these topics triggering, i understand! so, please always take care of yourself <3

part 1

seems to me, it's over

i'll get used to it eventually

over and over again, brutally

it's just the way it's meant to be

now your love's no good for me

i closed my eyes listening to the lyrics, my complicated feelings being put into words. it always amazes me how artists could turn pain into art, sadness into poems, and tears into songs. i pulled the covers over my head, darkening the moonlight seeping through my window.

i suddenly heard a knock on my door. i frowned and paused the song, confused. it was 2 am, and i knew that my family would be dead asleep by now, so i started freaking out. i lay still for a moment but ignored it after a while, thinking that maybe i had just imagined it. after all, i haven't exactly been sleeping like i should. insomnia makes you delirious, or so i’ve heard.

knock, knock, knock.

ok, i was definitely not imagining it. i got up quietly and almost tripped on my bunny by accident.

“sorry, baby,” i whispered. i then grabbed a candlestick on my right hand, lifting it in case i needed to hit whoever was behind the door. i mean what kind of burglar would knock? i chuckled nervously as i walked to the door. ugh, it must be jonathan again with his stupid ghost jokes. i took a deep breath and turned the handle with my left hand, swinging the door wide open.

oh, this motherfucker will know to stop messing with me. “jonathan, i swear to god if you’re–,” the words got stuck in my throat. ok, i was officially insane. because there was no way i wasn’t imagining this.

“rafe?” i hissed. “what are you doing here? and how the fuck did you get in?” see? completely irrational, therefore i was hallucinating.

“the front door was open,” he said with wide eyes, clearly trying to look innocent.

i narrowed my eyes, “i personally locked all the doors. so don’t fucking lie to me, or so help me, i will scream.” if i screamed, i knew someone would hear and would come to wake me up.

he smirked, “if you already know the answer, why do you bother asking? also, please scream, i’ve missed hearing it.” what the fuck?! my dreams have never been this vivid. this is it, my own personal hell.

it had been a month since i’d seen rafe and sofia at the beach, and since then i have avoided people even more than before. although on the rare occasions that i did go out, like the grocery store, whispers and covert glances would follow me around like a blood hound.

my eyes were adjusting to the hallway’s darkness, and i noticed that his under eyes were far too like mine. then i saw blood running from his nose, lip, and a bruise was forming on his cheek.

“what happened? oh my god, are you okay?” my voice filled with worry, erasing all the anger i felt because i still cared. more than i should.

“never felt better.” okay maybe not entirely. jerk. i then looked away from his face and saw that his shirt was also soaked with blood. it was so much, and i felt sick. if there was something i hated more than anything it was seeing the boy i loved hurt, even if he did it to himself. hell, more if he was the reason behind it. but why would he come here? of all places?

he still hasn't answered my question, but i figured i’d interrogate him while i cleaned his wounds.

i sigh, then pull him by the arm into my room. that’s when it hit me, alcohol. great.

“sit,” i ordered. “be careful with gia.” i saw a ball of white fur running around happily. strangely enough, she loved rafe, despite him not being around in a long time. she’s just like her mom. oh, fuck off. i left my bedroom to look for band-aids and rubbing alcohol. i grabbed some painkillers and a glass of water to try and sober him up. i paused at the head of the stairs to listen to any signs of my parents being awake. snoring met my ears, and i sighed with relief. i didn’t need to explain why my ex-boyfriend was in my room all bloody while being engaged. engaged. i blinked the tears away, “focus.”

the first thing i see when i get back is gia on rafe’s lap. traitor. he was petting her despite knowing i never let her get on my bed. she loved ripping my sheets far too much when i didn’t give her attention. he looked up and smiled at me. my heart broke a little, or what was left of it anyway.

i take her out of his lap and place her gently on the floor. i swear she looked at me judgingly, but then again, she's just a bunny. a traitor but still a bunny.

“she’s so big already,” he says quietly.

“yeah.” i answer. “she’s a year old.”

he looked surprised, “really?” his blue eyes somehow managed to glow in the darkness. why do they always do that?

i nodded looking down, “it’s been a while.” i repeated the words he’d said to me at the beach.

he furrowed his brow at that, but didn’t answer. i turn around and take the chair from my desk, dragging it to where he’s seated. he’s not looking at me, instead watching my paintings on the walls and the clutter of pencils and paintbrushes on my desk.

“you’re painting again,” he stated. no shit, sherlock.

i nodded again. “inspiration has been coming easily lately.” i left so many things unsaid. i wish i could call myself an artist, an echo of my earlier thoughts.

you consumed me, leaving no trace behind.

i felt like i was back 13 months ago before everything went downhill, about to clean his cuts like i’d done far too many times before. i wish i could heal wounds that were not visible to the naked eye.

i took a ball of cotton and dipped it in the alcohol. i leaned in, avoiding his eyes. those goddamn eyes. “this is going to hurt.”

“i know,” he winced when i pressed the ball to his cut lip. “sorry,” i then pressed it to his brow, noticing a small cut. leaning from my chair to clean his face was harder than i thought. normally, i’d be straddling his lap with his hands around my waist. don't go there.

i tried to keep my breath normal while i put on the band-aids. his gaze was intently on my face, but i avoided his eyes. “done.” i leaned back and then i gathered the used cotton and paper.

“you'll have to look at me eventually.” his voice was hoarse, like he’d been screaming. by his state, i'd be surprised if he hadn't.

“only if you answer my question.” i sat back down and grabbed the alcohol bottle and the pills. i took two out and handed it to him along with the glass. i still didn't look at him.

“i got into a fight.”

“well, thank you captain obvious.” i finally met his gaze and only found sadness in them.

he chuckled without humor, “you asked.”

“you know what i meant.”

he went quiet for a while, staring out the window. i took the opportunity to get a good look at him. i frowned when i noticed he’d lost weight. he looked so healthy at the beach, what happened? his nails were bitten to the quick and his signet ring looked loose around his finger. his shirt had once been blue, but was now deep red. his jeans were also matted with blood and his shoes had dirt and blood on them as well. his hair was longer now, falling to his forehead in a messy manner. he looked oddly beautiful. he always did and it made me want to cry. it was so unfair, why was falling in love so easy but getting out of it borderline impossible? every time i went to sleep, he was there, haunting me in my dreams. i woke up and there he was, everywhere. my clothes, my bed, my hands, my eyes, my fucking heart. it wasn’t his to own, yet he stayed without any intention of leaving.

his eyes met mine and he finally says, “better hear it from me than from somebody else.”

i frowned, “what do you mean?”

“i had a fight with one of your friends.” i clenched my jaw.

“what?!”

“pope, he provoked me,” he looks back at me defiantly.

“pope? rafe, what the fuck?” i was so confused right now.

i’m having a fever dream, i must be. pope was a saint, he wouldn’t hurt anyone and if he did, it would be with good reason. he was the only one of the pogues i talked to the most. after rafe and i broke up, i pushed sarah away and by extension, john b. so because of that, jj talked to me on occasion and kie only ever talked when she hadn’t heard from me in a while. which had become less and less when i stopped putting effort into our friendship. so, the only one left was pope, sweet and kind pope. i could never push him away; he didn’t deserve it. well, none of them really did, but we had a special bond. i think it was because my brother and i had spent the entirety of our only summer camp with him. pope and i were seven and my brother was eight and we were inseparable, the only times we didn’t see each other was when the boys and girls were divided for different activities, which wasn’t often. so right now, i am furious.

“i need an explanation. now!” i remembered to lower my voice, but i almost didn’t care.

“no, wait. you know what? i don’t need to listen to this,” i took a deep breath and closed my eyes, because if i didn’t, i would punch something, preferably rafe.

i turned around and pointed at the door, without looking at him, “get. out. now.”

“no.”

i scoffed and opened my eyes, “what do you mean, no? you don’t get to decide, ok? first of all, we aren’t together anymore. secondly, you broke into my house, drunk and bloody and third, you had a fight with my best friend.” i tightened my fists to control my anger.

“i won’t leave until you hear me out,” he crossed his arms and glared at me.

“i don’t have to hear you out. this is my house, therefore my rules.” oh my god. this is it. i have become my mother.

“fine. let’s go outside then,” he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out the door before i could protest.

“rafe cameron. let me go, right now.” i yanked my arm to no avail, and to be fair i wasn’t strong enough. id lost too much weight and didn’t exercise, although i don’t think that would’ve helped me much if i’m being honest. rafe was freakishly strong.

“no. you’re going to listen to me whether you like it or not.” i could feel him trembling with anger and i hated that my heart started pounding so fast. he’s practically kidnapping you and you’re all excited? what the fuck is wrong with you? oh god, let’s not go there.

i knew there was no point in fighting, so i let him drag me out the front door and down the street to a small playground that we used to spend a lot of time in late at night. i hate that he remembers where it was and that he didn’t hesitate in taking us there.

when he finally let me go, he didn’t face me. i crossed my arms expectantly. i looked around me and saw that all the houses were dark, the moon being our only witness. how i love her. it made me feel a little better that she was lighting our path and, in a way, creating a spotlight on us. cheap shakespearean tragedy again. i started shaking from the cold and hugged my sweatshirt tighter and faced rafe. i hadn’t noticed him looking at me quietly. i felt a little pang in my chest at the familiar gesture.

“well?” i raised an eyebrow, expectantly. he started to fidget and avoided my gaze.

“i—” he looked down and frowned. “i broke up with sofia.”

i took in a sharp breath. ok, i wasn’t expecting that. what the fuck was i supposed to say? he stayed silent and i realized he was waiting for me to say something. “i’m sorry,” i guess. i don’t know.

he scoffed and lifted his eyes to mine. like always, they shined but this time they weren’t as bright. he was sad, i could tell.

“i still don’t see what this has to do with pope and you breaking into my house, though.”

he nodded and walked towards the swing seat that was a few feet away from us. i felt like i had déjà vu in that moment. here was the first time he kissed me. on that very same swing set. i sighed and went to sit on the empty swing by his side.

“remember when we snuck out here and we got drunk for the first time?” he asked.

i laughed, “yeah, i then swore i would never touch alcohol again. my mom was so mad.”

he laughed too, “my dad congratulated me that day, said i was finally a man.”

“what? that’s so unfair,” i feigned annoyance. “my mom locked me up for a week.”

“i did break you out, though.” he pointed out and chuckled.

“the least you could do after making me steal my mom’s liquor,” i smiled and stared at the ground. our laughter died down and all that was left was the bittersweetness of what once was. i was so happy back then; everything was so simple. sure, i’d had my low days but after a while, i started dimming until i turned off. the lightbulb now burnt out, but unlike the real ones, i couldn’t be replaced. a sudden wave of guilt came over me. i ruined everything and for what? i stopped talking to my friends, broke the heart of the love of my life and built a fortress around me, not to keep people out, but to keep myself in. that way i wouldn’t hurt anyone, or so i thought.

“i’m sorry.” i lifted my head, confused.

“for what?” i asked.

“everything.” he looked at me with a tired expression.

“what is everything, rafe?” if anything i should be the one apologizing.

“for pressuring you when you didn’t want to marry me. i knew how you felt about it and i still pushed and ruined what we had. i was selfish and stupid, but i swear i didn’t mean to. i never meant for you to feel like i didn’t respect your boundaries or your beliefs.” i could tell he’d thought about those words for a while. he was so wrong. “rafe—”

“no, please let me finish.” his eyes were glassy, and i swore i could see him burning from the inside. a feeling i knew all too well.

he takes a deep breath and starts talking, “i am not going to deny that i was angry and hurt and that i felt like i was going insane. i spent weeks wondering what i’d done wrong, ways to make you take me back and every time i looked for you at your house, your brother or your mother would turn me away. and i never saw you outside, even months after our breakup.

“and instead of being angry at myself, i began to feel angry at you. why did you do this to me? when you knew how i felt about you and that i would never feel the same way for anybody else.” he gets up and starts pacing, avoiding my gaze and i’m grateful because my heart has somehow broken once more, and rivulets start descending, falling to the ground.

he starts gesturing wildly with his hands and turns to me, “i was broken, ok? you broke me and i started spending my nights at the country club, permanently glued to the bar. i drank away my pain and then this girl started noticing how sad i was. despite me being a jerk to her, she was kind to me and instead of serving me more drinks she started listening to me.” sofia. great. now i have to listen to their love story and how she healed him or whatever. stop being so bitter.

“so, i asked her out and she said yes, and we started dating. for the first time in months, i felt better. like maybe i could be good enough for someone, even if it wasn’t the person i wanted. i locked you away in my head and made sofia my priority. i was petty when i asked her to marry me. i wanted you to see that i had moved on, that it wasn’t that special, and that you’d done me a favor. that i could be happy without you.” i’d stopped looking at him in an attempt to hide my tears.

“but then i saw you at the beach. and all those feelings came crashing back in. that day i wanted to scream at you, kiss you, hurt you, and hold you so hard you couldn’t leave me again. i saw sofia go to you and you looked the same, yet not. when you said you were sick, i figured it was a cold and not the way i hoped. that maybe you were just as miserable as me. then you turned around and i couldn’t stop myself. so, i went to you, and i saw you crying and it took everything in me not to reach out to you. i realized i wasn’t over you and that i never would be. and i’m angry at you because i saw you for less than ten minutes and you somehow managed to destroy everything, i’d worked so hard to build. i hurt sofia badly. she didn’t deserve that, and i hate myself for it and i hate that i still love you.”

i looked up at that, shocked. i suddenly forgot how to speak.

but he had so much more to say because he didn’t stop, “so i broke up with her a few days after that and today, i went to find another place to drink, because she worked at the country club, and i couldn’t go there. you ruined that for me too. you managed to exile me without a word, and i went to the next best thing in kildare. your friend’s restaurant, and there were your stupid friends and my sister talking and laughing. when sarah saw me, she came up to me and i snapped at her, so john b stepped in and then jj and pope came along to kick me out so i punched him and then the others got into the fight as well, until they called the police and told me to leave. and i ended up here without realizing it. because i always come back to you.”

he was breathing heavily as if he’d run a marathon, his words starting to mix. i could only stare at him, and i guess that pissed him off even more.

“answer me for fuck’s sake!” i flinched. he’d never yelled at me like that. first time for everything.

“i—”

“y/n, please. i need you to talk to me because i’m going insane. please, i need a fucking answer. why did you do this to me?” he knelt in front of me, crying. i hate myself so much.

“rafe, i’m sorry,” i sob.

“sorry doesn’t cut it, okay?” his nostrils flared. “i need an explanation for why you left me.”

i take a deep breath and nod. “you’re right. i just- i.”

i sigh and close my eyes, “i didn’t say no because of my views on marriage, ok? i didn’t say no because i didn’t think you weren’t good enough for me, on the contrary. i felt like you deserved so much better than me. i’m pretty shitty, rafe. i didn’t want to ruin things, only to realize it was too late. i just wanted you to be happy, even if that meant with somebody else. somebody who could love you better than i ever could. i hurt you and i’m sorry, it’s the last thing i wanted. i only want you to be happy and i can’t give you that. you’re an amazing person, rafe.” i put my hand on his cheek and wipe away his tears.

“i do love you, rafe. i always have and i always will. i love you so much that i know what you deserve and it’s not me. i’m not ok. i’ll sabotage everything in the end, like i always do. i didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

i felt his features harden under my hand and he got up. he glared at me and his chest started rising and falling angrily.

“what the fuck, y/n? you don’t get to decide what’s good for me. that is my decision, and you didn’t ask me, ok? you went ahead and broke up with me for no clear reason. i know i fucked up by proposing, but we didn’t have to break up. instead, you left me there, alone and with my heart ripped out. it’s such bullshit. i am a grown man, and a relationship is between two people, but instead you decided i wasn’t capable, and you chose for both of us. that is so fucked up, y/n.”

“do you really think this low of me? that i’m an idiot who can’t think? or even worse, that i wasn’t a good enough boyfriend that you felt like i couldn’t help you? is that what this is? you think i’m incompetent? did i do something that made you feel like that? you should’ve told me how you were feeling, not bottle it up and then leave with no explanation. i’m not chopped liver, you know? we were supposed to be there for each other in the good and the bad.”

i looked down at my hands, ashamed. he was right, and it just proved everything i’ve said. “i never meant for it to be this way. i thought i was doing the right thing, ok? and it’s not that i thought you couldn’t handle it, i just didn’t think you should. you’ve had enough problems with your life for me to bring you more. a relationship is of two people, but i wasn’t in the right headspace to be able to maintain it. you couldn’t fix me, and i didn’t expect you to.” i looked up and his face was still wet with tears but was otherwise serious. he stared at me, his gaze hard and his jaw clenched. he was so angry and upset. its all your fault. it always is.

he was quiet for a while and i thought he wasn’t going to speak until he said, “who ever said i wanted to fix you? you don’t need fixing and you’re painting me as if i’m perfect. i’ve had my fair share of fucked up stuff too and you helped me. i just wanted to be there for you, i still do. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“besides, what good has it done for us to be apart? if anything, we’re worse. i get drunk at least three times a week and you never leave your house. when was the last time you went out with your friends? you think i didn’t know? i talked to sarah sometimes and she always said you were ignoring her and avoiding the others.” his voice started raising again and started walking towards me.

i looked up at the sky, the moon hiding behind clouds. even she’s embarrassed. “i didn’t say it would be good for me, i only meant that it would be good for you.” how many times do i have to say it?

“yeah well, it’s not, ok? it hasn’t been good for me. i want to be with you. and i’m tired of this whole sad girl shit you’ve got going on, alright? you’re not the only one in pain and frankly, you’ve only done more harm than good. your friends don’t deserve your disappearance acts, much less my sister. sarah loves you more than anything, more than she loves me. you’re her sister and you’re being selfish.” i just felt like i’d been slapped in the face. although maybe that would’ve stung less. the worst part is that he’s right, but now i was starting to get pissed off.

so, i did what i always do, hurt them back. real mature.

“there you go, you discovered america. i’m a shitty person and i’m selfish and self-centered and egotistical and a hypocrite. whatever you want to call me, ok? you just proved my point so congratulations on finally figuring it out.” i got up and wiped my tears and began to walk away before i said something else that i’d regret or worse.

he grabbed my arm before i could take another step and sat me back down, “you don’t get to have the last word, ok? when will you finally understand that the thing you were supposedly protecting me and the others from, is precisely your behavior right now. being present before wasn’t hurting anybody, and now, by removing yourself from our lives, you’ve caused exactly what you were trying to avoid. i’m so fucking pissed off with your self-pity. before being your boyfriend, i was your best friend, or at least i thought i was. sarah was your best friend, and you could’ve told her if you didn’t want to talk to me, alright? but this self-isolation is over. you’re only hurting everyone else.” his blue eyes were somehow colder than the night air. i know that what he’s saying is true, but i don’t feel like it is. i’m so overwhelmed that all i want is to rot in my bed alone.

i yanked my arm out of his grip and stood up. “i have enough to deal with without you making it worse. forget about me, ok? its better this way and maybe you should go talk to sofía. she clearly loves you more than me.” i pushed past him and didn’t look back.

something hit me from behind (not in a good way) and i ended up on the ground. “what the fuck?” rafe tackled me. like some fucking nfl player. “dude are you for real?” he flipped me over and pinned my hands over my head. my breath hitched and he noticed. motherfucker.

“i’m not going back to sofia, ok? and you’re not leaving until i say so.” in other circumstances this would be hot, but right now i am exhausted. sure, of course you are. and i really wanted him to kiss me. i was so close to giving in.

“do tell, rafe.” i forced my voice to sound tired, but my heart said otherwise. yeah, his body on top of mine was enough to wake me up. horny bitch. i just really miss him. is that so bad?

he didn’t respond though, he was breathing rapidly, and his gaze fell on my lips, but before i could say something his lips crashed into mine. his hands let go of mine and moved to cradle my face and i threaded my fingers through his hair. shit.

suddenly my body felt alive again, my heart restarting completely and my mind went quiet for the first time in a year. i moaned when he bit my lip softly and he groaned when my tongue trailed his. we fell into that familiar rhythm and suddenly i felt like nothing had changed. i pulled away to breathe but he only took the opportunity to kiss my face and jaw, then down my neck. i tugged at his hair, and he kissed me again, this time rolling us over, so i was on top, with my legs on either side of him. he somehow managed to sit up and his right arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer while his left hand pushed the hair out of my face. this time he was the one that pulled back, only to wrap his other arm around my waist and bury his face in the crook of my neck. i stroked his hair and closed my eyes. i quit all of my resolve and hugged him tighter to me. he spoke first.

“i missed you so fucking much,” his voice cracked, and i then felt something cold slide down my chest. he was crying. and that broke me. i started sobbing and hugged him impossibly tighter, “me too. i love you so much, i’m sorry.” i pressed my lips to his head and inhaled his scent. home. he lifted his face to look at me and his hair fell over his brow. he was so beautiful. the moonlight bathed him over, the planes of his face highlighted, and the shadows became more pronounced. chiaroscuro. a technique i’d never mastered, yet the moon, ever the artist, did so effortlessly.

a tear fell down his cheek and i kissed it away, and before i knew it, i kissed every crevice of his face and whispered i love you’s spilled from my lips. i hated that i was the cause of his pain. when i finally pulled away, his eyes were closed, and i lifted my hand and traced his face like i’d done forever ago. “your freckles are like constellations,” i whispered. he chuckled at the memory and hugged me to his chest.

after a while of us sitting still he said, “don’t leave me again, please.”

i pulled away, put my hands on either side of his face and looked into his eyes. “i’ll stay as long as you want me, but i don’t want to hurt you again.” i meant it.

“you’ll only hurt me if you leave. and i want you to know that i’ll help you get better, but please don’t push me away. i only want you to be happy too, but the way you’re living right now won’t let you achieve that.”

i looked down and nodded, “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry, too.” he lifted my chin so i could meet his gaze. “we can do this together, okay? its not about fixing each other, but about supporting one another. you don’t need fixing because you aren’t broken.” my eyes welled up at that and this time he was the one that kissed my tears away.

“just let me in, please.” his lips felt like the perfect antidote, and i knew then that i would be alright, with his help and my friends’.

“ok.” he pulled back when he heard me and smiled, and god how i’d missed that smile.

i smiled back and rested my head on his shoulder. “you really need to change and shower.”

he laughed, “yeah, pope won’t appreciate new fashion choices.”

i laughed too, “i have to see them and apologize. tomorrow. you’re right, i’ve only made things worse.”

“i’ll go with you, if you want. though don’t expect me to apologize.”

i slapped his shoulder, “rafe!”

“fine, then i won’t go.” i narrowed my eyes at him.

“you have to apologize, or i won’t talk to you for a week.”

his eyes widened, panicked. “fine, ill go. just please don’t do that.”

i didn’t expect that reaction to be fair. “i was joking, i’m sorry.”

“well, it wasn’t funny,” he pouted. why is he so cute? i’m so down bad.

“ok ok.” i stand up and offer my hand for him to stand up. he takes it but once he’s up he doesn’t let go.

as we walked up to my house, i realized he can’t stay with me.

“are you going home?” i ask.

rafe looks down at me, “are you that desperate to get rid of me?”

i roll my eyes, “you know that’s not what i meant.”

“hmm, better be. but to answer your question, yeah. although i was hoping you’d come with me.”

i stop at that, “i can’t, my mom will get worried.”

he groans frustrated. “can’t you just say you left to stay with a friend?”

i raise an eyebrow at that, “she’ll never believe that, especially at this hour.”

“i meant like leave a note. but i can stay with you, unless you want me to go. i have clothes in my truck, if that’s what you’re worried about.” he stops and looks at me expectantly. his offer is tempting but i can’t help but feel like we’re going too fast.

“i don’t want you to go and id love to stay with you, but maybe we should stay away for tonight. i feel like its too sudden.” his frowns at that, but nods though i can tell he’s a little annoyed.

“yeah, i guess you’re right.” he looked like he wanted to say something else and after seemingly thinking about it for a bit he says, “i just don’t want to be alone tonight.” me neither.

i nod, “ok, but get your clothes first.” his eyes light up and he nods before letting go of me to head towards his truck. when he gets back, we go up the stairs quietly and i tell him to go shower while i set the bed. we used to do this countless times when we were together. i usually took a couple of weighted blankets and draped them over us so my parents wouldn’t notice he was there, although they probably wouldn’t come in tomorrow, or today, because they had work early. i’d still lock my door just in case, that way i’d be alerted if they tried to get in. i jump, startled, when the door opens, and rafe comes in. he’s wearing a sweat set and is barefoot. he chuckles at the sight of the bed, “that never gets old.” gia suddenly hops onto my bed, and i lift her up and kiss her. “you know you can’t be here.” i then set her down and she runs under my desk, but not before stomping her back feet in annoyance. i feel rafe hug me from behind and kiss the top of my head, now smelling of my shampoo and soap.

“nice fragrance,” i giggle.

“thank you, it’s from a very exclusive shop in paris.” he says in an arrogant manner.

“oh, my bad, my lord.”

“apology accepted, my lady.” he picks me up and throws me onto the bed, before enveloping us with the blankets. after snuggling in my small bed, i kissed his cheek. “i love you.”

he hugs me tighter and kisses me softly, “i love you, too.”

part two <333 @lissylopez i hope you like it <3

divider creds: @anitalenia

[siriuslystyle1989]

heyy can you make an modernazriel x female reader based off the song kiwi by harry styles and maybe throw in some cardigan and champagne problems type storyline ? i love your work sm <33 although if you dont mind im begging you to make longer fic, you can do it as series too (if thats okay with u) byeee

Hard Liquor Mixed With A Bit Of Intellect (part 1)

Series masterlist misc masterlist

modern!Azriel x fem!reader

Warnings: Kissing, drinking, smoking (cigarettes)

A/n Hii lovely!! tysm for the request! I have been wanting to make a series for the longest time so this is a perfect opportunity to do so!! Here is part one, hope it lives up to your expectations!

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The music was blaring loud, and Azriel found himself losing count of how much drink he'd downed.

He'd been dragged to this club by Cassian who'd begged him to go out and stop being 'boring' like Rhys who had stopped partying with them ever since his Son Nyx was born last year.

And as per usual, Cassian had a tendency to rope Azriel into doing things against his will and better judgement.

Hence, Azriel found himself sitting at a bar shouting at the bartender over the incessant music to get him another drink.

Sighing, clutching his drink, he swung himself around to look for Cassian.

Unfortunately for Azriel, he was met with the sight of his best friend with a woman on each arm, his tongue down the right one's neck.

As if Cassian had been waiting for him to look, he sent Azriel a wink and yelled "Turn back around big boy." The women around him laughed and Azriel rolled his eyes but complied.

He slumped his head down on the bar silently telling himself to never agree to do anything with Cassian again, when a female voice interrupted his voice.

"Vodka diet coke please, thank you."

Azriel poked his head up to look at the woman. Her denim skirt and black leather jacket hugged her body in the perfect places.

"Are you alright?" She looked back at him as the bartender turned around and Azriel thought he was dreaming.

"Yeah, I- uh..." He replied still in a drunken daze.

The girl giggled slightly, dimples poking through her cheeks.

"Let me guess your friends roped you into coming here?" Her black eyeshadow perfect as she blinked up at the man

"Yeah, something like that." He smiled back at her "My friend, Cassian, he's that one over there."

He pointed to the booth in which Cassian and five other women now sat, one on his lap and two on either side.

The girl snorted and turned back to face Azriel.

"Looks like Cassian's having some fun." She spoke, sipping on her drink.

"Tell me about it." Azriel rolled his eyes dramatically at the girl.

"So what are you doing here Mr sit-in-the-shadows"

"As you suggested, I'm here against my will."

"Ah of course." The girl turned back to face the bar

"Well, you've told me all about Cassian, but nothing about you." She turned back to face him, looking inquisitively.

"Oh sorry, I'm Azriel," he replied.

"And how exactly did Cassian get your sorry ass here?" She looked at him with a smirk on her face, prompting him to speak more.

Azriel found himself wanting to speak more, the girl instantly putting him at ease.

"Me and Cass" he started "We're like a trio with this other guy Rhys, who Cassian and I usually go out with, but he got married and has a one-year-old son, and Cassian keeps saying he got boring or whatever So Cass has been itching to go out for ages so I guess I felt bad?" he finished looking back at the girl.

"Sorry, I never even asked your name."

She laughed.

"Y/n. My name is Y/n" she smiled at Azriel.

Y/n finished her drink and spoke once more "Do you want to go for a walk, its kind of stuffy in here, if you want to stay with Cassian its fi-"

"No, no I'm sure he'll be fine." Azriel cut in, grabbing the girl's hand and moving outside the nightclub.

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"Cigarette?" she offered, whipping a pack out of the pocket of her leather jacket.

"Yeah, sure thanks" Azriel replied looking down at her.

Y/n couldn't deny his beauty. But beautiful in a way in which Cassian was not. Where Cassian was Rugged, Azriel seemed softer. Almost Angelic, Y/n thought as she sucked on her cigarette.

"So what brought a pretty thing like you here Y/n?" Azriel prodded, taking a puff.

"I came with some friends from college, a guy and a girl, but they ended up making out and... going home." she spoke with a careless shrug.

"You're in college?" Azriel responded, to which the girl nodded.

"Astrophysics."

"Oh, so you're smart, smart." He stated smirking at her.

"Eh, I guess you could say that." She smiled back.

They walked for a few minutes more when Azriel voiced "I should probably get back and check on Cass"

"you're right, I need to get home too."

"You wanna walk back with me?" Azriel questioned silently hoping she would.

"Oh no, I literally live down this street, get back to your friend, Azriel." Y/n pointed, signalling to a row of apartment buildings.

She began walking away when she heard his voice once more " Wait, Y/n!"

"Yeah?" she turned around her hair swinging past her shoulders.

"Let me get your number"

She smiled handing him her phone to put it in.

"I really want to kiss you right now." he told her as she gave his phone back.

she giggled, the sound giving his heart wings.

Y/n leaned in as Azriel lifted his hand to her cheek attaching their lips, their tongues fighting for dominance.

As they moved away, a string of spit still connecting their puffy lips, Azriel smiled at her.

"Text me."

And that was the first of many rendezvous between the pair.

A/N: Thank you for this request! I'm not sure how many parts this will have but I'm going to incorporate the folklore love triangle and champagne problems as requested!!

[strongheartneteyam]

[ all credits of the Neteyam pic go to the incredibly talented @cinetrix ♡]

Champagne Problems

Part 2

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: neteyam is a simp for reader, black cat gf/golden retriever bf "trope", a whole lot of angst, beach party, use of alcohol, some romantic comedy vibes, neteyam acting a bit cocky lol, reader is a tiny bit of a meanie towards neteyam, sexual language, sexual content, reader is a bit antisocial, flirting, emotionally unavailable bc of trauma reader, unrequited love (neteyam is the one having the unrequited feelings), sexual tension, commitment issues, exophilia, size kink, interspecies relationship, bad words. Hit me up to lemme know if I forgot something ahaha

Synopsis: Neteyam has had his eye on you for long but you always kept him away, at a safe distance. You have no feelings for him after all, you only think he's really attractive... right? What happens when he starts flirting with you at a Metkayina beach party and he just won't give it up? Will you finally give him a chance to show you how he feels or will you keep hiding behind the armor that you have for a heart? Neteyam is known among the na'vi as persistent and everybody knows he doesn't back off from a challenge. And you're his favorite one.

Reader is slightly older than Neteyam, for only 2 years.

Neteyam and Reader (AI Art)

Do you guys remember the story inspired by Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift that I promised like ages ago? Well... The first part is here? 🤓 A lot of people seemed to be excited to read this when I posted that sneak peak. Hope you guys like it! kiss kiss 💗

Slightly proofread.

Part 1 : Say Yes to Heaven

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If you dance, I'll dance

And if you don't, I'll dance anyway

Give peace a chance

Let the fear you have fall away

I've got my eye on you

(...)

Say yes to Heaven, say yes to me

Say Yes To Heaven (Lana Del Rey)

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"It's not like you're not gonna break me in half if we try to get down and dirty." You laugh a bit too much, the alcohol invading your brain slowly, making you care less and less about behaving in a "socially acceptable" way. Though you wondered if your not-a-bit-elegant-honesty mattered at all to Neteyam Sully, the na'vi boy sitting in the maroon leather couch, by your side, his huge size making the couch look ridiculously small. He was na'vi, after all. Totally different culture. The na'vi were way more upfront about their real thoughts and feelings.

Neteyam had been talking loudly, almost yelling, at your ear for the past 40 minutes, trying to make his voice sound louder than the party's music, so you could hear him try to convince you to hook up with him. As if the loud uplifting songs that echoed in the salty air of that Metkayina beach were not enough to bug your tired head, now you had Neteyam helping your headache get worse.

"That doesn't mean you can't let me take you home. Or even let me make you my mate, eventually, if we end up falling in love while we fuck under the starry sky. You might like laying with me in my hammock and letting me pleasure you more than you think. Maybe you'll want to be my girl once you get a taste of this na'vi spice" He was joking around with you while flirting.

His thick, muscular but still fleshy thighs were spread on the sofa way too much to your liking. It was almost like he was trying to show you how masculine or desirable - some bullshit like that - he was. You know, that kind of thing a lot of guys usually do when trying to seduce you.

You knew Neteyam was aware he was handsome, that his body was attractive. He had always had girls - na'vi and human - all over him since he was a teen, drooling over his beauty.

But if he thought his loverboy flirting that must have worked so easily with just way too many girls before was gonna work that easily with you, he was mistaken.

Okay, you had to admit he was being pretty insistent, though. Neteyam had been there for almost an hour already. You did not understand what was making him insist that much on you if you had an armor as impenetrable as the one of a human warrior of the Middle Ages, back on Earth. And those armors were really hard to get under.

"Listen" you took a last big sip of your champagne and put the glass cup on the wooden table next to the sofa "When you gonna give up, honey? It's not gonna work. I'm not hooking up with you." You looked him in the eyes.

Goddamn, were his orbs big compared to the ones of a human. 

They were beautiful, though.

Damn, (y/n)! Focus, girl!

"I'm known among my people for being disciplined, focused and getting what I want because I fight hard for it. You're my focus now, tawtute." (human) I'm not giving up on you. You're like my Ikran. You're wild and hard to get but I'll conquer you, sevin tawtute." (pretty human) "On the first try."

"Cocky much?" You smirked and shook your head in disapproval "No, but, seriously, Neteyam, are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten about tsaheylu? I don't have a neurological queue, babe. I know I have many braids in my hair," You pointed out your hairstyle "but they're all regular human braids. None of them have little tendrils on its tip. Sorry, Neteyam. We're Romeo and Juliet. And Juliet doesn't even love Romeo in this story. You're deemed to heartbreak." You said, like you could not care less about his attempts to win you over, sipping on your sparkling champagne, that went down your throat comfortably, making you feel cozy and safe. It wasn't gonna work, anyway.

You liked champagne a bit too much... you had to admit it was very possible that you had a bit of a drinking problem. Alcohol made you feel warm inside. In an emotional way too. It felt like someone was hugging you, when you would not let many real people hug you because you just were not exactly enthusiastic about having physical contact with just anyone. You only let your closest friends and some family members, like your little sister, hug you. 

Some people would often call you "cold" and say that you acted "like a queen, above everyone else", behind your back, but that could not be further from the truth. You actually hated how low your actual self steem was.

"Why don't you look at Munì?" You mentioned the curvy, tall, blue eyed Metkayina girl who clearly had a mad crush on Neteyam. She was incredibly pretty. Nobody could deny that. "She has been drooling over you ever since you got here. Give the poor girl a chance. She's such a cutie. If I liked girls, I'd easily do her. Look at those beautiful, long, toned legs. Look at her wide hips. Damn, she's yummy!" you were drinking too much, your honesty getting way too out there.

"I don't want her. I want you." He spoke, like he really meant it. "My hammock will be hanged between those two big trees you like to collect fruits from. I'll be waiting for you, if you want to meet me."

With that last line being said, Neteyam got up from the sofa and walked away, swiftly finding his younger brother Lo'ak and tapping on his back, like men usually do. Both brothers started what looked like an interesting conversation.

You were left alone wondering how Neteyam could say those words and walk away so nonchalantly. 

"Phew! I thought he'd never leave, girlie." Adeline screamed, coming closer to you.

She was your best friend. You guys knew way too much about each other, but that only drove you closer and made you two have a beautiful bond that felt unbreakable. She was one of the few people in the world you trusted with many of your secrets. But not even she knew everything about you. Yes, talk about trust issues…

"God, I was about to call his sister to take him away! Kiri is much more chill and quiet compared to her siblings. She's a sweetheart." You said, finally letting your guard down and being able to relax your body language, laying back on the couch and resting your bare feet on the wooden dark brown table in front of you

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You cursed yourself while you walked towards Neteyam's big light brown hammock, hanged between two big beautiful trees that reminded you of the Palm Trees that used to exist on Planet Earth.

Why were you doing that, anyway?

"Tawtute! You came." Neteyam smiled, relief all over his face 

You sighed.

"Yeah, but I'm still wondering why I did."

"Ouch!" He put his huge four fingered hand on his chest and frowned, like he was in pain

You rolled your eyes at him.

"Stop that, silly." Crossing your arms, you walked towards the big tropical tree in front of his hammock but still a little far

"Hey! Where are you going?" Neteyam almost screamed as you were already further away from him than you should be if you were actually gonna have sex with him

It was like you were running away from and showing up to the "job" at the same time. Go figure out.

You rested your back against that large tree, feeling the rough edges of the wood harassing your skin.

Neteyam was already almost there where you were. His long na'vi legs helped him walk faster than you anticipated.

Neteyam got next to you. You felt a little fear but a bit of excitement, simultaneously, when you realized your head only reached his hip.

Fuck, he was a giant next to you… why the hell did that turn you on?

"Are you afraid of me, yawntutsyìp?" (little loved one) Neteyam said in a lewd, low voice as you looked at him, feeling like a pathetic little ant looking up at a human

Was that how ants felt?

"No, silly, I'm not." You looked away from him and tried to focus on the way the eclipse had beautiful violet and blue tones

That almost worked. If it wasn't for Neteyam using his huge alien hand to stroke your hair softly.

"You're so pretty, tawtute." You could feel his gaze directed at you, you could feel his heat burning your skin. The desire he felt for you was almost freaking tangible. 

You kept your eyes on the stars.

"You're not gonna look at me, yawntutsyìp? Lemme see those pretty eyes, hmm?" Fuck, he was turning you on so much, your pussy felt good already and there was a tight knot forming in your lower belly. How did he do that to you with so little effort?

You looked up at Neteyam's face, your neck hurting. You did not expect to see a big bulge under his navy blue loincloth, though. Neteyam was so huge you could not help staring and your face totally betrayed your surprise.

"C'mon, I wanna feel your tiny body on mine." He paused and his big blue hand traced your collarbone and your shoulders "You're so small, tawtute… Hmmm…" he let out something between a moan and a growl "So soft too." Neteyam squeezed your arm, feeling your soft human flesh against his slender fingers "I love how different from na'vi girls you are. I'm so lucky to have you all to myself tonight."

Your breath was now labored and your pussy was soaked. Your poor panties were all wet.

"I'm dying to squeeze those titties. They look incredibly soft. But I won't do anything that intimate before you say "yes" first, yawntutsyìp."

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@yeosxxx (u asked to be tagged in all my writings so I'm tagging u here hehe)

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