#i wouldn’t say i’m hating on them i just don’t personally see it...

[eggyrocks]

bruised part seven -> the healing power of shit talking

m.list

♪ now playing: first love/late spring by mitski ♪

“Are there any concerns you have going into Worlds?”

Iwaizumi bounces his knee, leaning back against the chair at his desk. He stares attentively at his computer screen, her face pixelated across it. It’s strange, he thinks, to see the face he’s known since he was a kid splayed out on screen, twisting in thought.

She’s always hated interviews, ever since her first one, and he can see it on her now. When she gnaws on the inside of her cheek. When crosses her arms tightly over her chest, fingers tapping against her bicep. When her lip slightly twitches before she speaks. “The bracket’s stacked with a lot of heavy hitters,” she answers, and Iwaizumi can hear the forced diplomacy in her voice, even through the poor audio quality of his desktop’s speakers. “So I just have to make sure I go in with a clear head and play to my own strengths instead of fixating in on my opponent’s. That’s gotten me into trouble before.”

He chuckles at her answer. It’s so strained and uncharacteristic. Because if it was him that had asked her, she would roll her eyes and say, “Yeah, fucking of course I do. It’s Worlds. Don’t be stupid.” But because there is a camera on her face, she puts up a front of faux concentration and gives the first bullshit answer she can think of.

Iwaizumi taps a finger against the edge of his desk, resting his chin on the heel of his other palm. He studies her as she fields another question about her disadvantages against pressure fighters. Her left hand slips under her right elbow, cradling it, thumb drawing circles over the bone. He huffs.

It’s bothering her. Of course it’s bothering her.

His first frustrated thought is that she’s stupid for not telling him, because he told her to keep him updated on how the healing progressed and if she had any pain.

And then his second, worse thought is that it’s entirely his fault that she didn’t.

My world doesn’t revolve around you, y’know.

Iwaizumi sighs, reaching forward to knock his thumb into the space bar, pausing the video right as she started delving into her defense training. He knew it would work. Still, he was just sort of hoping it wouldn’t.

And now that it has, it feels shitty. Really fucking shitty.

Absentmindedly, he digs into his pocket and fishes out his phone, hoping that there might be a notification from her and hoping that there might not be. He’s more disappointed than relieved when there’s nothing.

He opens their conversation, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Iwaizumi looks at her last words to him just a few days back: okay, whatever. He swallows, and types out a quick and plain: I’m sorry.

Iwaizumi stares down at the unsent message. He doesn’t know how to apologize without taking it back. He doesn’t know how to take it back without setting the distance.

There’s this urge in him to be selfish. To apologize and do whatever groveling is needed to get back to how they were before. But he knows that they can’t go on like that forever. That he would always be standing in her way. That he can’t always be the person she’d choose over anyone else. And if there was a time for his honesty, he knows for certain it’s passed.

Iwaizumi deletes it letter by letter. He knows she needs the distance.

He turns his attention back to the screen and presses play on the video. She picks up mid-sentence, giving them a canned line about how to effectively defend when she’s pushed up into a corner.

“And one last question for you and then I’ll let you get back to training. Is there a driving force behind your punch? What inspires you to fight?”

She was asked the same question back in their university days. He remembers her answer, word for word as it was back then. She grinned, brightly and genuinely, and looked right at the camera as she said, “I promised my friend I’d win.”

Now, she offers a half-hearted shrug and says with a light chuckle, “Who knows these days?”

fun facts!

yn typed out “np” with actual tears in her eyes

when she said “i know i can be clingy sometimes” she did mean it but there was a (big) part of her hoping he’d deny it and say he likes the attention she gives him

iwaizumi on the other hand was trying very hard not to say exactly that

he didn’t know what the right thing to say was so he just said generic word salad and then immediately regretted it

he’s not doing great either rn

yn has a hyperextended elbow and has had issues with dislocation in the past; she’s been able to avoid surgery but she’s been getting worried abt it acting up again

she wears compression sleeves while she trains to try and keep it at bay

bonus!

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @pinkiscool @hikikaimar @needtoloveoutloud @iheartpinky @makkir0ll @cr4yolaas @k8nicole @cannibalsrider @bookworm-center @causenessus @frootloopscos @0moonii @ekeio @michivrse @phoenix-eclipses @rinthegoose69 @melancholy-nightmares @kottonkndyy @hermaeusmorax @milkwithspiceyicecubes (please complete form linked in masterlist to be added)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu smau #haikyuu texts #hq #iwaizumi x reader smau #iwaizumi haijime x reader #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi fluff #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader smau

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

From the prompts list, I'd like to request either "by your side" or "bed bargain" for either Elijah or Greyson as the sick one. Bit of a non-traditional request since if I recall they both live alone? But maybe that's why I think those would be cute for them!

If the idea doesn't work for you, no worries ☺️

Oh, it works for me haha.

Thank you for the prompt!! 600 words of an Elijah who should be in bed below the cut :)

CW: Flu, coughing, fever

Bed

“I can’t think of a single good reason why you’re here, to be honest.”

Elijah looked up blearily from his computer and blinked hard at his counterpart. “I’mb fairly sure I still work here… I still work here, right?” he asked, a desperate attempt at a joke. Greyson deadpanned his friend, unamused.

“Hilarious, Lij. Glad to see your incredible sense of humor hasn’t been drowned in phlegm yet. You need to go home. Now.”

The GM rolled his eyes, which turned into an immediate grimace, which launched him into a fit of rattling coughs directed into his cardigan. Greyson sighed, loud enough for Elijah to hear over his own coughing. Finally, Elijah pulled it together and sat up as straight as he could.

“I’mb okay for service,” he croaked, swallowing painfully. “It’ll be slow.”

“Which is why there is no reason for you to be here,” Greyson half-shouted, throwing his arms in the air in frustration. “Is your house roach-infested or something? I can’t think of another reason why you wouldn’t want to just sleep this off. You need to be in bed, Elijah, you have the flu.”

This dressing-down didn’t seem to phase Elijah; he just shrugged and turned back to his computer. “It’s ndot that ba-ahh! ATSZZHH-ue! HuhhhETSCHH-ue!” Elijah collapsed to the side, miserably, and peeked over his glasses in search of tissues. Nothing.

Greyson, taking pity on his boss, opened a drawer and pulled out a fresh box of tissues. “Take them home with you,” he said, pointedly. Elijah snatched the box away to clean himself up.

“Why do you wandt mbe to go hombe so badly?” Elijah croaked, tossing a handful of tissues into the trash. “Planning on throwing a rager the mboment I leave?”

It was meant to be said playfully, though Elijah knew playful was hard to pull off with a voice that was barely a croak. Greyson sighed, defeated, and sat down next to his boss.

“Lij,” he said, firm, “I want you to go home because you’re the most contagious-looking person I’ve ever seen. I want you to go home because if you were in your right mind, you’d hate yourself for infecting the staff by being here. I want you to go home,” Greyson placed a hand on hiss boss’s forehead then, and raised his eyebrows at what he felt, “because you have a raging fever.”

Elijah shook Greyson’s hand off as best he could and attempted to swallow a cough. “Fuck off,” he muttered, pathetically. Greyson pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat.

“Elijah,” he said, managing to keep his cool. “What’s really going on, dude? I mean, you’re a stubborn ass on your best day, but even you know you shouldn’t be here.”

Silence filled the office; yes, Elijah knew he should be in bed. He should be sleeping this shit off. He just -

“I don’t wandt to be alone,” he muttered, the words escaping his mouth without his permission. Elijah bit his cheek, an attempt to stop himself from talking that did not work. “I’mb just… I didn’t want to be by mbyself. And this is all that I have, Grey.”

Greyson blinked, stunned. Elijah knew he shouldn’t have said it; he was embarrassed at how raw the admission felt, and immediately wished he could take it back. He tried to say something else, something to lessen the blow that was the truth, but all that came out was – “HUHETSHHH-uhh! HRRRSHH-ue!”

This seemed, at least, to break some of the tension. “Bless you,” Greyson said after a beat. Elijah nodded, grabbed a handful of tissues, and pressed them against his face. Greyson sighed, a heavy sound.

“Grab your bag,” he said, standing. “I’m taking you home. I’ll stay. We don’t have to talk about it any more than that. Okay?”

Of course, there were semantics that Greyson wasn’t thinking of; the restaurant would be left without an upper manager. The floor plan hadn’t been made up. A tenderloin was sitting on Greyson’s prep station, half-portioned. But his fever-addled brain didn’t allow Elijah to let those things get in the way; just let someone help you, a tiny voice in his head begged. Just let someone else figure it out.

So instead of arguing, Elijah nodded. “Yeah,” he said, standing shakily. “Okay.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #snz drabble #sickfic #snz prompts #another example of this is as close to caretaking as my brain gets lmaooo

[zukkaoru]

"maybe we shouldn't"

"weren't we dating?"

and a random word: green. for souheki =)

thank youuuu ela <3 starting off with. angst :-)

“Maybe we…shouldn’t,” Dazai whispers, though his hands remain firmly on Ranpo’s shirt. He doesn’t want to pull away, but this also seems a little too far for something that’s just a bit. Typically, he wouldn’t care so much, but—

Something about doing this with Ranpo specifically makes his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“Why not?” Ranpo’s breath is warm against his neck. Dazai wants their lips back on his skin. But also he doesn’t. He wants to be as far away from here as possible. There is no one to watch them here, tucked away on Dazai’s futon in the dorm he half-cleaned for Ranpo’s sake. There’s no reason to perform.

Still, Dazai doesn’t have a good answer to Ranpo’s question.

“Because,” he says, the word clunky on his tongue. He hates not having a lie ready to go for every situation, but Ranpo could see straight through any falsities anyway. “Because this isn’t…”

Because this isn’t real.

It isn’t exactly fake, though, either. Not at this point. It’s sitting precariously on the line between, constantly in danger of tipping over. This would push it off the edge, but Dazai isn’t sure in which direction. He doesn’t want to think about it.

Ranpo exhales slowly. Dazai wants to keep them close—so close they cannot properly look at him, because then they’ll see everything Dazai doesn’t even know how to sort out himself.

But when they pull back, he lets them go.

Their eyes are shut. They appear vaguely conflicted. Dazai wants to run away and never come back.

“You’re right,” they agree, voice strained. “We shouldn’t.”

-

souheki secret exes (except they weren't even trying to keep it a secret)

“You’re such a liar.” Dazai pokes Ranpo’s shoulder, grinning playfully. “Remember that case we did together in Sendai? We went to a bar the first night and you finished your entire drink. So you have found one you like!”

Ranpo throws their head back, groaning. “That was so long ago, how am I meant to remember that? Besides, it was only because you figured out the right mix so I wouldn’t be able to taste the alcohol at all and gave the bartender very specific instructions.”

“Of course I did! I was a very good friend, even back then.”

Ranpo frowns. “Weren’t we dating?”

Dazai hums. He tracks back through his memories, slots the case in Sendai into the timeline chronologically and determines, “Yeah, you’re right. I was a very good boyfriend then!”

Ranpo snorts.

“Hey!” Though, Dazai can’t really protest—he’s a shitty boyfriend and they both know it. But he’s going to play upset about it just for fun.

However, when he turns away to cross his arms and pout, he realizes everyone else in the office is staring at them in silence. Wide eyes, confusion etched across their faces, even Yosano is looking at them with a sour sort of expression.

“What?” he asks.

“What the hell do you mean weren’t we dating?” Yosano demands.

Ranpo waves a hand vaguely. “We dated for a bit about a year after Dazai joined the Agency. I’m pretty sure you knew this.”

“I’m pretty sure I did not!”

Tanizaki raises his head nervously. “I…don’t think— think any of us knew.”

Naomi pokes her head around the corner. “I did! It was super obvious.”

Dazai chuckles to himself. At least he can count on one other person in this office to be observant.

-

green

Dazai fidgets under Ranpo’s gaze, eyes flitting anywhere apart from their face. His fingers drum against his thighs and he squirms in his seat.

Ranpo doesn’t break their stare.

Finally, Dazai whines, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you not like it?”

Dazai’s face flushes, albeit only slightly. Still, of course someone as observant as Ranpo is will pick up on it easily, and it’s not a sight Ranpo thinks they’ll be forgetting anytime soon. “No,” Dazai lies. “You…your eyes are too green. It freaks me out.”

Ranpo laughs. Dazai’s cheeks redden even more, but before he can open his mouth to say something else stupid, Ranpo reaches forward and tugs him into a kiss. 

#when the bit with your coworker goes too far and suddenly the two of you are undressing in your dorm and you're like... wait a second #this isn't something fake boyfriends do.................. #anyway ty again these were fun 🫶🫶🫶 #souheki #daran #ranzai #bsd #grace's writing tag #ela tag

[titsthedamnseason]

since i haven’t pissed off enough people today i’ll say something else. i’m actually not a fan of surprise song mashups and i’m glad this wasn’t a thing when it was my show

#they’re probably legally allowed to snipe me for saying this #and seriously no hate like if you got a mashup i’m happy for you bonus songs it so exciting!! #*is #and i totally believe in taylor doing whatever she wants #it would just stress me out personally #like i don’t like the idea of not getting an entire song out of it #and also i would feel like i couldn’t sing along because i wouldn’t know what’s coming next and that would upset me #but i like seeing the videos of them #taylor swift #mine #not trying to be hateful i promise this is something i would usually keep to myself but i feel like everyone’s raging anyway so why not lol

[cunninghamchrissie]

eddie’s a skinny metalhead and skinny metalheads love curvy girls and chrissy has an ed and body issues and can see the beauty in all bodies but her own and would never body shame anyone and i think that’s neat

#text #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #repost from my twitter bc i’m struggling y’all #that video/tweet body shaming the fans who met joseph rly got to me :( #i thought it didn’t and then today i found myself wishing they never do a con near me #bc i don’t want to take pics w them and see what i look like next to them #and have ppl say joe must hate his fans bc they’re fat and ugly or whatever #i know it’s not true and i hope he wouldn’t (idk him personally) and def not grace w her history of ed and being body shamed by the fandom #i’m just sensitive and this stuff gets to me sometimes #i just wanna live and not have my body be seen as such a failure and ugly and shameful #fat ppl aren’t embarrassments :(

[hobisexually]

x

#had a multiple day getaway with coworkers to ✨bond✨ and talk about all the ✨changes✨ #I am EXHAUSTED of having to constantly guard how many personal details you’re willing to divulge to have them understand the way you work #vs deeply personal things they must never know that are so so so trauma related or just. too personal to say #and it feels like everybody here is an open book and we come from such different base levels that there’s things I HAVE to share #to have them Get It and the Way I Work but not in a way where it impacts the way they see my work performance #or impacts their idea of me #but constantly having to weigh that…….. #constantly toeing that line for three days with ✨bonding exercises✨ and being with them every hour (every minute every second) for days? #it’s a lot. #they told me I’m a bit of an island before so I try to open up more #but that comes VERY unnatural to me as I’m very private #you wouldn’t say based on this blog smsmsmsms but I’m so private no one knows a thing #is why I throw it out here #but ugh #UGGGGHHHHH #I am so tired man #and constantly being scared you said too much or ironically not enough? #hate it. HATE IT #I don’t have social anxiety but sometimes — #god dndndndnd

[cloneboywonder]

im so CWCcoded

#anyway my apologies for gaslighting you all about not personal diary posting bc my dad just texted me goodnight and it made me sad #him and my mom both tried to call me all day I feel bad when I ignore them #bc I know they’ll be dead someday and they won’t be able to call me and I won’t be able to answer #and my brothers both tried to call me I know my mom narced that I was weird yesterday and now everyones scrambling to keep track of me #it’s very nice of them but I really do hate being reminded that I’m the family member that like #they’ve all quietly agreed is always going to have to be monitored and taken care of #I wouldn’t be surprised if Andy and Alex haven’t talked about who I’m going to going to live by when our parents are both gone #it was kind of funny Andy invited me to like go install a security camera with him today #I said no but I do think it could’ve been a fun experince #I was gonna see my mom but she didn’t want to go out again so I waited around until my dad tried to call me again #so then be brought me with him to a hardware store where he tried (and failed) to return paint or something #we love a schemer #and then we picked up Andy and got milkshakes but I was ill so he got me real food on the way home #but I’m going to have to find a way to throw it out tomorrow bc I didn’t eat that much of it and I don’t want him to be sad about it #and I have to clean my room bc Lydia will be here soon #I was weepy in the car and my dad kept saying it’s nice you’ll get a few days with her before the concert #I know :-( #to some extent I love that he’s so incapable of handling emotional moods bc he just puts on songs and complains about them #bc he knows I like to complain and I think he gets scared when I don’t talk and that’s his attempt at getting me to #I need to finish my costume and make bracelets and clean my room these seem doable #okay bye please don’t unfollow me #also I love the name doxing bc these are for me and me only and maybe burke when he logs on I love you #my posts

[kavehater]

Genuinely gonna cry cause I saw the most disgusting thing ( literally what’s new I get new traumas at least once a day LMAO )

#I’d rather watch gore #than see this #SOB SOB SOBBBB #ik I was saying stuff like girl kaveh we are married bla bla bla etc redacted + etc for good measure but today I realise I don’t mean that #because I feel like crying #I think I proved to myself none of this is very comfy no matter the gender LMAO anyways me and girl kaveh are still married I’ll just cry #as much if kaveh was a boy too as well as if he’s a girl 🤷‍♀️ #astaghfirAllah I’m so annoying this makes no sense to you guys but I am in shambles 😭 #dora daily #the “you guys” are the guests in my head the voices 😔🖤🥀⛓️💔 #I was like in the past I might’ve been a tad fruity but turns out I was just traumatised and also I hate everyone equally #THIS REMINDS ME today my grandpa (😾) answered my dads call and I rolled my eyes so far back I saw my optic nerve #so cue covering my face as my dad was shoving the phone on my face while I was being verbally harassed into saying hi (I don’t wanna say hi) #so then my dad explains that I’m not an affectionate person and I dislike love because I don’t kiss him (firstly even if he was a normal man #I wouldn’t do it) and he went on to say I don’t even let my mum kiss me etc etc because I hate it #not only that it’s just I’m so sick of them all man 😭 I’m okay with hugs it’s just nothing I feel particularly inclined to #like I’ll do it if it’s expected but I’m like I dunno I wouldn’t feel an undying urge to ??? #and then my grandpa was like the shocked pikachu face #yeah like I am never kissing anyone on the cheek all I want is to be left alone 😭 #my dads shock when he realises I do in fact hate love when I’m 50 and unmarried #I can’t believe he as a man knowing what men are like expects me to want a guy #barf #and don’t get me started on how men talk about women like they’re in a cult and women are trading cards #like do they not get jealous 😭 whyre they like good on you bro you scored etc etc #I’m not explaining this right but I hope y’all get what I’m trying to say #damn fellas this one was a touch long #my apologies

[peapod20001]

When I love a song, I’ll love it forever

#random post #smth i thought about earlier. yknow. I have a hard time picking favorites with literally everything #I also have what I SAY is a favorite of mine. but I have a hard time really pinpointing whats number 1 in my brain #like. I love lots of things. I like different aesthetics and clothing and art mediums and movies and shows and books and music and people #but it’s difficult trying to find the favorite. some things are easier cus there’s more that I DONT like so it kinda singles out an option #like with music. I love LOTS of music. but what does it mean when smth is a favorite? I don’t have a favorite genre cus I have songs I love #from all over. even ones I haven’t heard yet. music overall is one of my favorite things. I’m not joking when I say it’s a love language #I love the melodies and beats and rhythms and lyrics and voices. always and forever will have a place in my heart and mind #I hate questions that want to know favorites. isn’t it enough to just show you instead? to share everything with you? why do you need one #single thing to know exactly who I am? wouldn’t you get me better if you spent a day with me instead? #I can’t remember everything of importance to me. not all in one single moment. if I went through my playlists and told you what songs I love #and why. what books I love and why. what anything I love and why. you’d find that I’m a bit undefined. I’m an artist and a creator. strong #yet weak imagination. sometimes think better in the abstract and other times do better with what’s set in stone #I love sharing things with people. I wish people would engage more with what I share sometimes. but I never hold it against em or hate them #if they don’t haha. often I feel down when ppl don’t engage with what I share. I know people aren’t obligated to do things but. yknow. it’s #my heart in a platter. splayed our for everyone. bits of me I want to share. what I want people to see. I’ve sat down with people to share #music I like. one friend said a song I like was scary. some people make faces at what I play. some have paid it no mind at all. they don’t #even know how important to me sharing something like that is. hell. how important me sharing ANYTHING is. it’s so easy to hide away #everything about myself. yet here I am trying my hardest to open myself up. yea. wish I was able to connect with someone like that #in person I mean. I guess. I just want to lay down with someone and play music we love. explain why we love it. or try to understand why #idk I’m getting rambly. I just want to do new things forever. and relive the first time everytime #this isn’t a vent or anything. just thinking and writing as I do. typing helps me to keep my mind on track. a bit at least. as much as one #with a brain like mine can havagahhaga. I wonder if anyone actually reads through my tag rambles in their entirety. I know it looks daunting #so I don’t blame you if you can’t or don’t feel like it. it won’t kill me if my words are lost in the void #haha anyways yea :> thinking lots

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

There are a lot of reasons i feel intense resentment (at the very least) towards anti vaxers and anti maskers. There are a lot of things that I quite possibly never do the same way again. Every time I go out or think about going out I’m reminded of this. Every time I go online and see one of those assholes I’m reminded of it. Every time I see some of my own relatives I’m reminded of it. I hate it so much. But there is something different about the feelings I get when I’m reminded of something small I can’t do. I don’t know what it is but it’s almost more sadness than anger, and when my ears hurt because I’ve been wearing a mask all day as I buy groceries and go to appointments, that enrages me. When I’m told I’m being brainwashed or paranoid because I can’t stand the thought of long covid and the fact that I could get even more health problems because those fuckers joined some cult mindset I’m enraged. When I open up the cabinet behind my bathroom mirror and see my black lipstick it’s more sad. I miss the theatrics of wearing dramatic colorful makeup. I miss the drama of having black lipstick and Wes all black. Sure, I can still wear all black (and most often do) and wear dramatic eye makeup, but my favorite thing, the lipstick, isn’t an option anymore. Only some gatherings of people or something where I need to take off my mask would show it, and getting lipstick all over the inside of a mask isn’t very fun tbh. I was never super into makeup and I have never worn it even close to everyday, but I miss when I did.

#emma posts #this post is about my personal experience. its not about how much I care about other people getting stuck in the crossfire #there are plenty of posts about that and i don’t think I have much to say that hasn’t been said before #I’ve seen people get long covid and i don’t want it #I wish they didn’t have it either #if this breaks containment and someone is like ‘covid isn’t all about you’ I’m going to stab something #yeah. no shit it’s not. but I’m making a post about my own experience with this #i hate my country #kinda love my state. but hat my country #the fact that actual government officials spread even more misinformation and encouraged people to follow it is so fucked #antivaxers were seen as crazy a decade ago. now they’re all over the place #I mean. they are crazy. that hasn’t changed #we eliminated smallpox. we had a chance to eradicate a new terrible disease before it became endemic and you fucking stopped it #I knew about pandemics as a highschooler. how are you all so fucking stupid #and don’t say that they are all uneducated. my brother and my aunt have perfectly good educations #and you know the fucking tv people have them too #and don’t turn this into an ‘oh the makeup industry’ post #i have self image issues yes. but I go outside with my face naked all the time. I just like being fun sometimes #you seen a drag queen? I wouldn’t go that hard at it but they fucking get it #it’s why I dye my hair too. when I look in the mirror and see my favorite colors it makes me smile #my body is a canvas #and I decide what goes into this gallery #so more than one canvas? but i only have one body. this analogy doesn’t work but you get it… I hope

[hajiberry]

VOICE-MEMOS THEY SEND WHEN THEYRE DRUNK

Kirishima- “baaaaaaabe, hiii I’m out and well I mean I’m not really out anymore I’m on my way home. In an Uber cause no drunk driving duhhhhhh but actually I’m not even drunk so I actually could’ve driven but somebody I won’t name names was being a bit of an asshat and wouldn’t let me drive. But oh my god I love yousomuch like you know I love my guys but god I miss you every time I go out. And yes I know I’ll see you when I get home but your gonna be sleeping and I’m gonna be sad but honestly might wake you up because I wanna kiss you. Okaaay pulling up to to the cribbb noww BYYE”

Deku- “okay let me start by saying I’m only slightly under the influence right now. Like honestly barely, I didn’t even drink that much but sometimes I feel like because I never had a college experience to build my tolerance up I’m still a lightweight at 24 but anyways I’m on the way home and I keep thinking about how much I love you and I miss you so much and oh my god I don’t know what I’d do if we ever broke up. Not that I want that to ever happen but like oh my god how could I even function? I’d probably drop from number 1 to like in the hundreds 'cause I’d be that useless without you.” *starts crying and the rest of the audio message is him crying*

Todoroki - “y/n, I’m currently in midoriyas car because he’s driving me home because I accidentally drank too much at the after-party for the award show. I’m so sad you couldn’t come, like I know the anniversary party for your parents is really important that’s why I’m flying out tomorrow to be there for it. Shit, that was a secret. I hope you don’t listen to this because then you’ll know I’m on a plane coming to see you in like 3 hours. Honestly don’t know how I’m going to function hungover on an airplane but I think I’ll manage, I mean it’s not like it’s a commercial flight so I should be good. Damn it well I was originally going to say I love and miss you. Which still stands but I’m gonna go now because I think I’m going to throw up” “TODOROKI NOT IN MY CAR PLEASE”

Bakugou- “fuck. I’m so drunk right now and I hate even admitting that but that’s how shit-faced I am right now that I can even admit that I’m drunk. This is why I should never go out with my idiot friends, they make me drink and then I end up talking about you and that’s so beyond embarrassing. Not that you’re embarrassing I just don’t need them to know my business like that. Kirishimas driving me home right now which I feel like speaks volumes about my lack of good judgment right now. I don’t even know what the point of this message is I just wanted to say you’re one of the most tolerable person I’ve ever met and I really fucking love you. Okay bye this idiots smiling at what I’m saying and it’s creeping me out.

#my hero x reader #my hero headcanons #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia fic #kirishima eijirou #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #kirishima headcanon #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #deku x reader #deku x y/n #deku fanfic #deku scenarios #izuku midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #todoroki headcanons #todoroki fluff #izuku x you #izuku midoryia x you #izuku midoriya imagine #todoroki x y/n

[monzabee]

pon de replay - cl16 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 

Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.

So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.

It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.

“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.

“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.

“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”

If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”

Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.

He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”

That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.

“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.

Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.

“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.

So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”

His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”

If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.

And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”

This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”

“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.

And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”

Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”

“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”

“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”

And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.

So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”

You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.

“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.

He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”

“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”

“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.

The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.

Or so you’ve thought.

Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”

“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”

You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”

That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.

“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   

“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.

“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.

So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”

“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”

“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”

“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”

“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”

“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.

That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.

“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”

“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”

And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

[fxrmuladaydreams]

don’t touch her (mv1)

max x reader , unnamed mclaren employee x reader

summary: max knows his feelings for you are wrong, you have a boyfriend. but all bets are off when that boyfriend gets aggressive with you

notes: this one’s angsty guys, also we’re gonna pretend that japan was later in the season just for timing purposes

warnings: physical fight, blood, a toxic relationship

He knew he shouldn’t be staring at you from across the paddock. He knew it was wrong on so many levels. You were a part of the Red Bull team, one of his coworkers. You were also dating someone from the McLaren team. Max had never wanted to hit Lando over the head as much as he did when the young Brit introduced you to your current boyfriend. But he couldn’t stop himself from searching for you in any room he went into, or at any media events or any meetings.

Max Verstappen could confidently say he was without a doubt in love with you.

He had grown attached to you quickly, being one of the only people he worked with that didn’t fawn over him just because he was good at his job. You treated him like a real person. When he was with you there was no Max Verstappen, there was only Max. You were a breath of fresh air, the calm in the storm that was his chaotic life. You were his quiet, safe space he could escape to when things became too much. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and shield you away from all that was wrong in the world, but he’d settle for calling you his friend, his best friend.

Max liked to think of himself as a good person, the type of person that just wanted to see you happy, even if it meant seeing you with someone else. He promised himself he wouldn’t act upon his feelings, at least not while you were dating anyone. He wouldn’t dare destroy your happiness just because of his heart.

Max could also admit he was petty, so childishly petty. He didn’t like seeing you hanging around the McLaren garage during race weekends, weekends where you would usually be by his side, making sure he was ready to drive. Instead he had to watch your navy blue stand out against the bright orange at McLaren. It didn’t suit you, being surrounded by papaya, Max thought.

He knew he could complain about it to Christian. He could use his power to make you come back to him, but in doing that he may end up hurting you or your job. So he sat quietly and let his annoyance fester inside him.

He could tell when things started to shift with your boyfriend. When your long hugs and visits to the McLaren garage turned into brushing shoulders and arguments in an empty walkway outside.

Max tries to ask about, tries to help make you feel better, but you shrug him off, telling him that you’ll work it out, it’s nothing but a rough patch.

He asks if you’re okay, if there’s anything he can do to help. You give him a sad smile and shrug your shoulders.

“There’s nothing you can do Max.”

He’s never felt so helpless in his life. He hates that he has to see your face with tear stains over it, that your smile has dimmed in the garage. That you no longer search him out for comfort.

Part of him thinks he should have a conversation with your boyfriend. He thinks he should give him a talking to about how he’s ruining someone so special. But he knows he’d probably end up throwing punches if your boyfriend ticked him off anymore than he already has.

You don’t seem to get any better as the season comes closer to an end. Max tries to help you open up to him again, asking if you have any plans over the winter break. He even invites you to join him on his trip back home to the Netherlands. He tells you that his mother and sister would love to have you with them during the holidays.

You frown, telling him that you planned on staying near Milton Keynes to do some work at the factory.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s winter break, I’m sure they can spare you for a little while.”

“I can’t take time off work just to hang out with you Max.” The words are much harsher than you mean for them to be, you can tell by the way Max takes a defensive step back.

He nods. “Right. Sorry.” Then he leaves you standing there to go to his driver’s room, or somewhere that just doesn’t have you.

Everything becomes clearer to Max at a party near the end of the season. It’s just after the Japan race, and Lando had insisted on celebrating the McLaren 2-3 as well as another tally to Max’s list of wins this season. The nightclub is filled with drivers as well as team members from each team hoping to let off some steam before the next race weekend.

Max doesn’t want to be there. He wants to go back to his hotel and sleep before he has to fly back home just to fly to Qatar a week later. But Lando and Charles keep putting new drinks in his hand, which promptly end up being left on random tables, and dragging him around to converse with everyone else that’s there.

He keeps an eye on you the whole time, watching as you wrap your arms around yourself, staring into the crowd on the dance floor. He can tell you aren’t really looking at them though, that you’re staring off into space. Your boyfriend comes up to sit on the stool next to you. He says something in your ear, to which you shake your head and leave, walking outside.

Max quickly pushes his latest drink into Charles’ hands and follows you outside.

You lean against the wall, attempting to get some fresh air after feeling a bit too claustrophobic in the club, but the heat doesn’t help as much as you hoped. You see Max as he steps outside and quickly walks to you.

“What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, because I know you, I know when you’re upset and you can’t hide it from me. Is it me? Have I done something wrong?” He asks, his words spilling out quickly.

“Max, it’s not you, it’s just-”

“Y/n! Come on, we can talk this through!” Your words are cut off by your boyfriend who looks around for you, the smile falling off his face when he spots Max standing next to you. “Are you fucking serious Y/n?” He storms over to you, and grabs your forearm, yanking you away from Max. “Always running back to Max, huh?”

You yelp when he roughly pulls you to him.

Max is quick to put himself between the two of you, pushing your boyfriend with just enough force to make him let go of you.

“Don’t touch her.” He snarls.

You already know how this is going to end. Max stares at your boyfriend with fire in his eyes. While Max isn’t quite as tall as him, he makes up for the height difference in his strength. He’s got enough muscle to knock him to the ground in seconds if he wanted to.

Anyone with half a brain would know they’re in dangerous territory, being on the receiving end of Max’s intense stare, but your boyfriend refuses to back down.

“She’s mine Verstappen. I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He says quietly, taunting Max.

That’s all it takes for the first swing to fly. You think it’s Max, but your boyfriend is quick to throw up his own fists in defense.

It’s a mess of navy blue and orange as the two end up rolling on the ground, throwing punch after punch. Max ends up on top, straddling your boyfriend, lifting his fist to swing. You grab his arm and pull him off and away from the fight. You catch a glimpse of your boyfriend, well now ex-boyfriend’s bloody nose and black eye.

Max huffs, pulling his arm away from you and stalks towards his car. You follow him, practically jogging to keep up. You stop when you’re standing between him and the driver door. The lamplight illuminates his face. He’s got a bruise on his cheekbone, a split lip, his hair is a disheveled mess, and his fist is coated in blood, whose you aren’t sure. He’s avoiding eye contact with you, instead looking up at the sky.

“Max, why-”

“I’m fine.” He says when he finally looks at you. “Let me drive you back to the hotel.”

The drive back is quiet. You can’t help but keep looking over at Max, the streetlights passing by spread light over his face. He pulls a plain hoodie from the back of his car, pulling the hood up over his head. He keeps his down as he walks inside, attempting to avoid any interactions with fans that have decided to hang around the hotel.

He walks you to your door, then turns to leave, stopping only when he feels your fingers thread themselves through his. You gently pull him inside your room.

“Bathroom.” You tell him, steering him towards the small bathroom.

He sighs, knowing that there’s no use in trying to argue with you. He tugs the hoodie off and tosses it on your bed. He lifts himself up to sit on the counter of the bathroom, just next to the sink. There’s barely any room between where his legs hang off the counter and the wall opposite the sink, but you manage to squeeze between them with a small towel in your hand.

You run the towel under warm water, then bring it to his face, softly dabbing at his lip. He flinches slightly, pulling away. You apologize softly, then continue to wipe the blood from his lip.

You do the same with his hand, gently holding it in your hand and wiping away the red. It turns out to be mostly blood from your ex boyfriend, his skin only slightly bruised from the impact.

“You shouldn’t have hit him. You could’ve broken your hand. You wouldn’t have been able to drive.” You scold him quietly.

He gives you an incredulous look. “I should’ve done a lot more than hit him.”

You don’t answer, continuing to absentmindedly wipe at his hand. The blood is long gone, but he can tell you’re too lost in thought to notice.

He lifts your head up to look at him with his other hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks.

You shake your head. “You heard him. Always running back to you?”

“I like it when you come to me.” He shifts slightly. “I mean, I like feeling like you can come to me for, well for anything really. You should’ve felt like you could’ve talked to me.” He drops his head down now.

You can tell he’s starting to close in on himself, that he feels somehow at fault for this. It’s your turn to lift his head up this time. His eyes are welled up with unshed tears. He tries to blink his tears away putting on a brave face for you.

You gently swipe your thumb under his eyes, then hold his cheeks in your hands.

“This is not your fault Max. It’s my fault. I let it get bad, I should’ve ended it a long time ago. I just have a talent for being self destructive I guess.” You let out an unconvincing laugh.

He leans into your touch, letting his eyes flutter closed.

After a few minutes you begrudgingly pull your hands away from Max. He immediately misses the warmth on his face.

“You should put some ice over your bruise.” You tell him.

You step back, giving him space to hop down from the counter. He stands over you, but his height is anything but daunting. He looks down at his now clean but bruised knuckles then back up at you.

“Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you.” You tell him.

He clears his throat then shuffles around you, back into the main part of your room. “I should probably go.”

You follow him, itching to give him a reason to stay.

He grabs his hoodie from your bed and walks back to your door. He opens it, ready to step through when you call his name. He turns back to see you standing near the door as well, shifting your weight on your feet.

You take a deep breath then throw caution to the wind. You take a quick two steps to him and press your lips to his cheek.

Max freezes, only regaining a semblance of composure when you pull away from him.

“Thank you Max. Really.” You smile.

He gives you a sheepish smile and a nod, his cheeks colored with a light pink blush.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

“Goodnight Max.”

#max verstappen x reader #formula one x reader #mv33

[strawberrysturniolo]

chris and the reader hate eachother but end up having to share a hotel bed

just tonight // chris sturniolo

summary: a trip with your friends turns into a hotel reservation mishap and having to share a bed with someone you hate part 2

It’s no secret that Nick Sturniolo is my best friend.

It’s no secret that Matt Sturniolo is like a brother to me.

And it is no fucking surprise to anyone how knows me and the youngest Sturniolo that Chris Sturniolo is the one person above all that makes me want to rip my hair out strand by strand. 

I don’t even know how it all happened. It’s like it was meant to be. I don’t remember a time in my life where me and Chris Sturniolo weren’t bickering, throwing shit at each other, or calling each other foul insults. 

To others, it is another form of entertainment to see our arguments in person, but to Nick and Matt, it’s the bane of their existence. 

Their brother is mine. 

Which is why I am more than shocked to hear that the four of us are heading on a trip to San Diego with no one else to help break up fights. 

With Matt driving us, Chris sits in the passenger seat, blasting music that no one has a say on. Matt bops his head to a few songs, but as soon as he becomes comfortable with one, Chris changes it mid song.

“Hang on, I have a better one,” he says every single time. 

Nick sits next to me, half asleep with chunky headphones over his ears, blocking out the sound of his brother’s music taste. I wish I could say I’m doing the same, but my airpods died 20 minutes into the drive, so I’m stuck in the backseat staring out the window, contemplating throwing myself onto the highway at 80 miles per hour.

We make a few stops along the way despite it being only around a two hour drive. 

The first was for some food. 

The second was because Chris ran out of his drink and insisted that he needed to stop for more.

The third was because Chris decided to dump his drink on me, so I had to change into something I had packed.

The fourth was because Chris then faced his consequences and had nothing to drink, making Matt stop again. He promised he wouldn’t spill it this time.

Then a fifth time because Chris had to pee. 

When we finally arrived at the hotel, we dragged our few bags inside and made our way to the front desk.

“Hi,” Nick said to the woman. His eyes were droopy as he had just woken up, so he rubbed them a bit before continuing. “It’s under Sturniolo. Four rooms on the same floor.”

The young woman’s eyebrows cinched together, almost like she was worried she had made a mistake. 

“The reservation is for three rooms,” she says instead, making Chris step forward like he is going to correct her. “And they are on different floors.”

“Woah, woah,” Chris interrupts, shaking his head. “I know you’re just doing your job, but we definitely put in four rooms. I don’t think anyone minds that we are on different floors, but we’re going to need a fourth room if that’s what we paid for.”

The woman’s eyes scatter across her screen before she frowns slightly. “I’m really sorry, but we don’t have any other rooms available.”

Chris spins around, tossing his hands up slightly. “What are we going to do?”

“Why can’t one of you share a room?” I suggest the obvious.

Nick jumps in first. “If you guys want me to edit all your shit, then I need my own room. I won’t be able to focus and get it done if there’s someone else.”

“Okay,” I nod, knowing he has work to do. “Then Chris can stay with Matt.”

Chris’ face scrunches in disgust. “No way. He snores.” 

I roll my eyes at his childish answer. “We don’t have any other options right now.”

“One of us is going to half to share with her,” Matt concludes. Chris makes a face as if to say ‘Not me!’

I scoff at how they’re talking about me while I’m standing right here. “Hello! Why can’t I get my own room since I’m the only girl!”

I’m ignored.

“Let’s play rock paper scissors for the room,” Matt suggests, making Chris roll up his sweatshirt sleeves as if he’s preparing. 

Matt wins. 

Chris’ eyes shoot open. “Best two out of three.” 

“Nope,” Matt says as he grabs his room key off the desk and heads to the elevator. 

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I mumble, walking behind Chris and following him to our shared room. 

I would have been quiet so Nick could work, but he was so adamant about being alone that I never even got the chance to suggest that alternative. This stupid room situation is just the fucking icing on the cake after the car ride with Chris. It’s no surprise that my luck would put me in the same room as him somehow. 

I brace myself for when Chris opens the door, expecting only one thing because it’s the obvious, but I still pray for a miracle. 

No miracle.

There’s one bed. 

I toss my bags on the bed before he can. “Dibs,” I call out immediately.

Chris kicks his shoes off. “That’s not fair. How are you gonna dibs a bed? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

I point to the balcony. “Out there. Just pray a rabid squirrel doesn’t bite you while you sleep.” 

He fake smiles at me. “Very funny. You’re lucky I’m too fucking tired after the ride to argue with you.” He flashes his phone screen at me, revealing the time. 2:12 a.m. We left at night to try to beat any traffic and so we could have an extra full day in San Diego. “Let’s just go to bed and hope we’re too tired to realize what a shitty situation this is.” 

I dig out some clothes from inside a duffel bag I brought, trying to find something to wear as pajamas. Since I was under the assumption I would be in my own room, I didn’t pack any pajama shorts or even athletic shorts that would do the job. I usually just sleep with a big shirt and underwear, and this was certainly not what I was anticipating. 

I let out a sigh and turn around to face Chris. I hate asking for his help. 

“Do you have any shorts or sweatpants I can wear to bed?”

He looks at me like he’s confused by my question. His tiny brain cells can usually only handle sentences with five words or less.

“Why didn’t you pack any?” he asks me instead. 

“Because I normally sleep half naked, which I’m not doing with you here. So can I please wear shorts or something of yours to bed?” 

He grins. “Say please again and maybe I’ll think about it.” 

“I’ll scrub the toilet with your toothbrush while you sleep,” I threaten. 

He reaches down and tosses me a pair of his boxers. “I would give you basketball shorts but they wouldn’t fit you. Plus I only have my celtics ones and they’re too nice for you to fuck up.” 

I take his boxers and stand with my clothes in my hands, looking at him. 

He looks at me like he has a problem with me. “Do you need anything else?” he says in a snippy tone. 

“Go to the bathroom,” I instruct him. 

“Why?”

“So I can change?” I say as a question, shocked and confused at how stupid he can be sometimes. 

He rolls his eyes and crouches to his bag. “I’m not fucking looking. Just change.”

In an attempt to withhold us from fighting in the first ten minutes of us being here, I sigh and turn around, facing the curtains covering the window. I peel my shirt off and toss it on a chair, putting on an old t-shirt instead. I turn around quickly, making sure Chris isn’t watching. He’s sitting on his phone. I yank my pants off and tug on his boxers before he has a chance to peek.

“You done?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’ll go to the bathroom so you can change.” 

I grab my toiletries bag so I can brush my teeth and wash my face while I’m in there, but as I make my way to the door, Chris steps in front of me. Looking at me, he pulls his shirt off from over his head. “That’s all I have to do. Now I’m dressed for bed.”

Do not look at his body. Do NOT look at his body.

“I still have to go to the bathroom,” I say anyway. 

He gestures his hands to my destination and follows me in, brushing his teeth alongside me and watching me as I do my skincare. Before I have a chance to snap at him and tell him to go away, he does just that. I almost ask him why he did leave, throwing myself off. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care.

He’s laying on our bed. I have to remind myself that this is just a shitty situation before sliding in next to him, still keeping a distance. We sit in silence for some time, both of us still scrolling aimlessly on our phones, trying to distract ourselves so we don’t have to talk. Finally, I have enough of the silence, and I am suddenly on the hunt for answers.

I turn over in bed, now facing him. He side eyes me as he notices my change in position. “Do you need something else?” he asks.

“Why are you so mean to me?”

He lowers his phone from his gaze momentarily as he thinks. He settles on, “You’re mean to me too.”

“It’s different,” I argue.

“This is just how I am,” he continues. “I act this way with my brothers. Maybe you’re just not used to it yet.” 

“It’s still different, Chris.”

He shrugs, not saying anything else, so I do.

“I feel like we could get along well but you don’t give me the chance. You never noticed we have the same taste in music and a lot of other similar interests? It’s like you don’t want to admit we could have something in common and I don’t know why.”

“I’m not petty like that,” he says instead. “I’m not going to blow you off because I don’t want us to have the same interests.”

“Then what is it,” I continue to push him. 

“Can you just shut up and go to bed?” he snaps.

I seriously couldn’t have had a worse roommate. 

I turn over, finding myself back in silence. 

“Are you going to need my boxers every night while we’re here?” he asks. 

“I mean, this is all I’ve got, so yeah,” I answer without turning around. 

It’s silent for a good 30 seconds before Chris breaks it. 

“Why don’t you just keep them?”

My eyebrows furrow, my expression bold even though he can’t see my face. “Why?”

“They look good,” he mumbles.

“Huh?” 

“You heard me.”

“I literally didn’t doofus that’s why I said huh?”

“I said they look good on you!” 

My stomach flips.

Motherfucker. 

“You want me to keep them?” I ask for clarification.

“I’m just trying to be nice,” he defends. “Don’t try to make it something it’s not. But even if I was trying to turn it into something else, you know you look good.”

Oh my god.

No, he needs to stop. 

I turn around so I can face him again. “You think I look good?”

He rolls his eyes so hard this time that his head shifts. “Oh shut up.”

The more I stare at him to try to dissect his answer, the more I see his face turning a darker shade of red. 

“Oh my god! You’re blushing!” I tease.

He sits up straight. “Am not!” 

“You are too!” I laugh, pointing at him.

He smacks my hand away. “Stop it!”

Everything suddenly clicks. Every time he was mean to me. Every time he called me names. 

But there were also the times he would stand in a corner with eyes shooting daggers when I would talk about a guy.

Everything makes sense. 

“You like me,” I piece together.

“Do not,” he lies. “You wish.”

“I don’t have to wish because you do!”

“You’re being childish,” he says, bold coming from him. 

“Just admit it so I can go to bed.”

Without an answer he shoves his hand into my shoulder, pushing me away from him. I do the same back, but when I expect him to do it again, he grabs my wrist and yanks me towards him instead.

We both halt before our faces touch.

I watch him gulp.

“Tell me not to do it,” he practically begs.

I know exactly what he’s talking about. I know we shouldn’t but I sort of just want to know what would happen. Would anything come out of it? Would we both decide it was stupid and we won’t talk about it ever again and swear it won’t leave this hotel room.

“I could do it instead,” I suggest.

He clearly doesn’t expect this from me. His eyes were somewhere else until I finished my sentence. That’s when they flew to meet mine. 

He gives me one last look before grabbing my cheeks and pulling me into him. I fall forward, wrapping my arms around him for support before my lips settle into his. We mesh together perfectly, a long peck before our lips part and he’s trying to snake his tongue into my mouth. I let him, and I don’t even notice when one of my hands rakes through his hair. 

One of his hands drifts down my body, clinging to my waist. His thumb plays with the band of his own underwear hugging my body. 

I don’t know how long we have been doing this. All I’m focusing on is the few sounds that come out of our mouths, little moans and deep breaths, others being the sound of our lips fighting for dominance. Then there’s the sound of slight creaks in the bed as we shift around.

I’m caught by surprise when he pulls me into his lap, but thank god he does. I don’t move around on him. I don’t grind my hips into his. I don’t try to feel how big he is underneath his clothing.

I sit there with my arms around him, a lustful makeout turning into soft kisses again as he holds my cheeks, his thumbs stroking my face. 

I pull away for a moment to catch my breath, and I watch his face fall.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “I shouldn’t have done that. Oh my god that was so fucking stupid.” He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, but all I’m focused on is how his biceps flexed in the process.

I pull his arms back down, a measly excuse to have my hands on the toned muscle, but also to comfort him. “Hey, it’s fine. Why don’t we just go to bed, and we can talk about this tomorrow?” 

He takes a moment to think before he nods, placing a kiss on my cheek before letting me lay down next to him. Our backs face each other. We both stare at the wall in our direction, our heads clouded with thoughts. 

After some time, when I was positive he was asleep, I feel the bed shift as he flips over, his body now facing the same way as mine. 

His pinky hooks with mine in the softest grip. 

I let his hand linger, taking it slow before I drive this car off a cliff.

I face him, looking down at his chest before I place my head on it and kick my leg to lay over his. Our bodies cling to each other immediately. He holds me like he’s scared of letting go.

I can’t get over how good this feels. Just laying here with him.

But I also know tomorrow could be a shit show after these events, so I have just tonight to bask in this before it all goes to shit. 

#nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #strawberrysturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you

[hearts4renaa]

YOU'RE LOSING ME.

summary: how the love began to die out between you and them. featuring kamisato ayato, alhaitham, diluc, and zhongli. gn! reader (see a/n below) pt. 2 here w/c: 2.1k words in total a/n: inspired by the new vault track from midnights by taylor swift. meant to be a gender neutral reader but one of the lyrics i reference uses "her". otherwise, no pronouns used.

And I wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser, who only wanted you to see her.

“I’ll be entering an arranged marriage to the daughter of another clan.” Ayato said matter of factly, as if it was as casual as discussing the weather. Today was the off day Ayato had free. He’s been so busy the past month that he barely has time for you. You can’t even remember the last time the two of you woke up together. He always slept late and woke up earlier than you. The affection was rarely there too; The usual loving kisses and cuddles were reduced to pecks on the cheek and pats on the arm. This was one of the rare times you were actually able to sit down with him. 

The air was tense, almost impossible to breathe in. What was supposed to be a romantic dinner quickly turned sour the moment Ayato announced a piece of news you never wanted to hear. “I’ll be meeting her in two weeks. I’m expecting the marriage ceremony to take place within the next three months or so.” He wasn’t looking at you, instead more focused on the food in front of him. Your chopsticks fall from your hands, the clatter piercing the silence between you two. Ayato looks at you, completely deadpanned. You take the moment to really, truly look at him. His expression was standoffish, and his eyes were dispassionate. Just where did that loving gaze go? “What?” He asks.

“Ayato, you can’t just expect me to be happy about this.” You huff in frustration, picking up your chopsticks and setting them down in a proper manner. “When you accepted the proposal, did you just forget about our relationship? About me?” 

Ayato rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re acting like I declared undying love for her. I’m simply doing what’s best for the clan, and for Inazuma as a whole.” He puts down his chopsticks as well, clearly not focused on eating anymore. “It’s not like I’m ending things with you. Marrying her opens many opportunities I can’t pass on.”

“You’re not ending things with me, but you’re just gonna go off and marry some girl?” Your heart broke a little more with every word. If someone were to listen closely, they could probably hear each individual crack. “Ayato, our relationship has already been wavering a little…you’re so busy. It’s like you just can’t fit me into your schedule.” Your eyes start to become glossy, and you need to swallow back your tears to fight against them falling. “How can I expect us to stay together when you need to make room for two spouses now? I thought love meant more to you than business did.” Your voice cracked with every syllable that fell from your lips.

Ayato stood up from his seat on the floor, adjusting his sleeves and beginning to make his way to the door. He slides it open before stopping in place. “Marrying her has a lot to offer.” He speaks, but he isn’t even looking at you.

“And I don’t?” You ask. You didn’t even know if you wanted the answer to that. Luckily for you, he didn’t answer at all. He looked back at you from over his shoulder. He takes a breath, and you feel as if he’s stealing the air straight out of your lungs. He turns his head back and sighs. He steps forward, leaving the room. 

The door shuts, and you are left in silence.

And I’m fading, thinking: Do something babe, say something.

With Alhaitham being appointed as Acting Grand Sage, it’s only natural that his workload for the Akademiya would increase. However, if there’s one thing that Alhaitham truly hates, it’s when unnecessary work piles up and begins to leak into his personal life, like a bucket overflowing with water. A work-life balance can only go so far before work begins to completely tilt the scale in its favor. Naturally, this takes away from time the two of you could spend together.

Normally, that would be completely fine with you. You knew Alhaitham was a busy man with a busy lifestyle. It’s completely reasonable for him to not throw aside his work just for you. Alhaitham always tries to make time for you, to show you his affection in small ways that don’t take up too much time. Either with tea he makes for you before he leaves for work, small trinkets that begin to appear on your bedside table, or a hushed declaration of love when he accidentally wakes you up when he rises early. But recently, his efforts have been slowly dwindling. You no longer wake up to the smell of tea. You no longer reach over to your nightstand in a sleepy haze, only to feel an object that was not there before. You no longer hear an “I love you” amongst the sound of your bedsheets ruffling in the early hours of the morning.

Of course, you noticed. So you took it amongst yourself to try and do something to express your love. You usually go to sleep before him, but here you are in the living room, waiting for him to return. It’s already quite late, and you fight back a yawn every twenty minutes or so, but you’re determined to stay awake to greet him. The smell of his favorite food wafts in from the kitchen, and you smile while thinking of his reaction. You might not be a Michelin star chef, but you pour love into everything you make him.

Finally, the door opens, and there he is. His eyes are tired, and an annoyed expression is etched onto his face. “Hey, honey.” You shoot up from your seat to greet him at the door. His head snaps in your direction slightly, not expecting you to still be awake. He lets out a little grunt as a response. You can tell he’s in a bad mood, but you keep pushing. “You’re home late.” You state before realizing how you pointed out the painfully obvious.

“I always am.” His voice is monotone, cold. He walks straight past you, barely even sparing you a glance.

Your hope begins to falter, but you try again. “Are you hungry? I made you dinner.” You reach your hand out to lightly touch his. He pulls his hand away with no hesitation. You feel the familiar sting deep in your stomach, and you try your best to ignore it. You clear your throat as if to rid the moment of his past action before speaking again. “Then, maybe we could eat together-”

He groans aloud. “Can you just be quiet?” He snaps. His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t filled with love or hate. It was indifference, and in all honesty, that hurt so much more. “I’m exhausted. The last thing I need today is you nagging me.” 

You falter, as if you were shrinking away in a desperate attempt to try and disappear. “Right.” Your voice is quiet, meek. “Of course.” You turn away to walk into the kitchen, and you hear your shared bedroom door slam shut. You sit at the dinner table, gazing at the untouched meals on the opposite ends. Your hand moves to touch the spoon and stir it around in the food, but any outsider could tell that you have no intention of eating a single bite. 

For the rest of the night, you sit there alone as the food goes cold.

Lose something babe, risk something. (You’re losing me.)

If there’s one thing Diluc strives to do, it’s protect you. He lost his father already, he can’t risk losing you too. It brings him peace to know that you’re safe at Dawn Winery, away from things that can bring you harm. But even though he is protective, it’s not as though he keeps you locked inside the house. He knows of your adventurous spirit and he would never want to hurt you. However, he has a habit of being a little paranoid. The people of Mondstadt are aware of your relationship, but he rarely lets the two of you be seen together. He prefers things quite private, but you’re starting to get a little sick of it.

You just returned from a small commission; it’s been ages since you’ve done one. It felt so refreshing to wield your weapon and go on a mini adventure! Even if it was just a few slimes near Windrise, the experience was one you haven’t had in far too long. You end up with a small cut on your hand, but you look at it in pride as you walk back to the winery. You open the heavy door, and you’re met with the face of your lover.

“Y/N, where were you?” Diluc’s question is loud, his voice laced in concern. A second barely passes, and he’s already by your side. He catches sight of your hand and cages it in his larger ones. “Why is your hand hurt?”

You shake him off lightly, heading to the couch to set your things down. “I took a small commission.” You explain. “Just a little group of slimes. My hand got cut, but I’m okay. Don’t worry about it!” You attempt to reassure him, but the crease in his eyebrows doesn't go away.

“Y/N, how many times have I told you?” Diluc scolded. He folds his arms over his chest. “You don’t need to take commissions. I provide for us enough already.”

Your eyes roll before you can stop them. You can feel your frustration rise inside you. “I didn’t take the commission for the money, Diluc.” You huff at him. “I wanted an adventure, even if it was a small one. It’s the experience I wanted.”

Diluc scoffs. “Oh, so getting hurt is an enjoyable experience for you?” Diluc never had the most friendly tone, but you’d have to be truly clueless to miss the sarcasm weaved into his words.

“By the Seven, Diluc, it was a cut!” You exclaim. “All of this over a cut?”

He looks you in the eyes. “You know I just want you to be safe.”

Your eyes softened slightly, biting your lip. “But Diluc, you play it too safe sometimes.” You grab your weapons and bag again, adjusting your jacket before heading towards the door. Despite just getting home, you felt the need to get away, to cool off. Maybe to kill some other monsters, you weren’t sure.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Out.” You respond curtly. You weren’t sure of your destination, but you didn’t care. You just needed to be away from him.

“Y/N-“ He called out. You cut him off by slamming the heavy winery doors.

Choose something babe, I’ve got nothing to believe, unless you’re choosing me.

“I love you.” Zhongli murmured, knuckles turning white with how hard he was gripping his pole arm. He towered over you, who was on the ground in a pool of blood. The metallic smell was hard to ignore. “I love you, I truly do. And I always will.”

You laugh bitterly. “You love me, and you caused my injury.” You use your hand to weakly gesture towards your torso. “Some love you have…”

Zhongli grips his weapon even harder. He digs the heels of his feet into the group as an effort to ground himself. He knew that if he were to take a single step, he’d run to you, and he’s not sure if he can stop himself. He takes a breath to calm himself, and every breath of air he breathes makes him wish he could breathe that same life into you instead. “It’s for my nation.” He says as calmly as he can. Oh, how he wished he could run to you, kiss you, and heal you. He continues with bated breath. “You know I cherish my nation.”

You cough, blood splattering out. “More than you cherish me?” You ask weakly. “More than you cherish us?”

Zhongli’s eyes soften with sadness. “Yes…more than I cherish you, my love.”

You sigh, suddenly feeling the fatigue hit you like a truck. You’re so tired. So, so tired. You voice out your thoughts. “I’m exhausted, Zhongli.” Your voice is weak, along with your body.

“I’m sorry.” He says before facing away from you. He can’t bear to look at you in this state. He can’t bear to see what he’s done to you. He takes slow steps away, using all his willpower to not turn around and run to your side.

“I love you, Zhongli.” You call out.

He takes one final look. “I love you too, dearest.”

A sad, soft smile etches itself onto your face. Your eyelids droop, and eventually, they flutter closed. Zhongli stares at you sadly. His weapon drops to the ground, making a loud clatter. The silence is deafening. He peers at your lifeless body before closing his eyes. “You’ll always be my favorite story.” He whispers.

A single tear falls from his eyes.

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #alhaitham x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #al haitham x reader

[katszumi]

“do you think i’m a good person?” you could tell katsuki had to swallow his pride in order to ask you, but when you made eye contact with the male in front of you, the clear look of insecurity was plastered over his face.

your eyebrows knitted together. “i do,” your eyes searched him. obviously, he was trying to maintain his robust appearance, but the way his shoulders slouched more than usual and the very very small pout on his lips, you noticed he wasn’t his usual self. “why are you asking me this?”

your voice lowered in volume and he hated how soft you spoke to him. he didn’t like pity, even if you didn’t view this as such.

katsuki lifted his shoulders and quickly dropped them, his eyes shifting away from yours.

“people talk,” he begrudgingly answered. “just wanted to see if the people around me agreed i guess.” and by people, he meant his stupid classmates and pro-hero teachers, but mainly he meant you.

your opinion mattered to him the most after all.

you shook your head, denying his speculation. you wondered who he was around to even hear something like this.

you inched yourself closer to katsuki on the couch in the dormitory lounge, slipping your hand into his dormat one that laid on his thigh. of course he would explode anyone else that would dare touch him in an affectionate way, but it was you. the only person who could even remotely manage to get him to feel tender inside and be sentimental back—or at least he tries his best.

katuski’s red irises ogled into yours, waiting for your lips to part.

“it doesn’t matter what they think. you’re bakugou katsuki, mr. great explosion murder god dynamight,” katsuki’s shoulders racked gently from laughter, “and you’ve saved countless lives at the age of 17. from what i know, that’s a good person and a damn good future hero.” you hoped your words would inspire him, but his eyes weren’t hopeful enough.

“yeah, i save lives, but if i’m an asshole about it then does it even matter?”

katsuki was being so vulnerable right now that you couldn’t believe it. he told you things he wouldn’t share with anyone else, but never would you have thought how open he could be with you. your heart was warm from the thought.

“don’t let people who know the surface-level bakugou affect the inner bakugou. if they choose not to learn who you really are, then their perspective of you is bias, and that’s unfair.” you explained.

“but,” he started, though you didn’t let him finish.

“and the people around you know that you are a good person. you may be loud, arrogant and brash at moments. but, we wouldn’t want it any other way. who else would we tease for fun if you weren’t there? or if we wanted some honesty, or a good laugh. we love you, kats. the inner and surface level of you.”

katsuki couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lip, his shoulders lifting with relief. he lightly squeezed your hand that was still entwined with his. you figured it was his way of saying thank you.

“you love me?” he repeated, his smile now forming into a grin. he turned his back and started to lean back, resting his body in your lap.

you giggled, your face warming. “yes, i do.”

“say it then.” his eyes gazing into yours. of course katuski was aware of your love for him. there was nobody sane that would date someone like him; it truly seemed like a beauty and the beast situation in his eyes.

it was all more reason to fall in love with you even harder. he didn’t deserve your love and kindness, but there you were always giving it to him. you’re beautiful, delicate, and intelligent. it would be a sin to not praise the ground that you walked upon. because you were everything to katsuki and he wasn’t sure if he was up to par.

but while you were here, showering him in unconditional and gentle love, he was going to try and learn how to be the best person for you and the people around him. he would hate himself if he lost you because of his irrational behavior considering you’re the future in his eyes.

your smile matched his, crescent moon’s beginning to form under your eyes from how wide your grin was.

“i love you, katsuki.” finally. the words he loved to hear. and it ached. it ached all over. since when did he turn into such a big softie? but, it didn’t matter as long as you remained in his presence.

his rough, calloused hand reached up to cup your face, swiping his thumb across the apple of your cheek.

“i love you more, y/n.”

—

come here katsuki… lemme love u pls. hes so beautiful and soft. delicate bakugou 4 life !!!

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