#maybe I’ll do them tomorrow <-will forget again :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

actiniumwrites · 1 year

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𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓

synopsis: how they react when they find out you’ve never had a date on valentine’s day

based on the prompt: “you’ve never had a valentine’s date?”

characters: diluc, kaeya, mona, zhongli, xiao, kujou sara, kazuha, itto, tighnari, cyno, and childe x gn! reader (separately)

warnings: fluff, a bit of angst in some of them, these are meant to be pre-relationship but you can interpret them how you want

notes: releasing this a day early because i know i’ll forget about it tomorrow lmao. also i was gonna do more for this than just a bullet scenario, but then i realized there was only like a week left until valentine’s when i wrote this so i couldn’t do anything big 😭 but i did really like this prompt so enjoy!

diluc:

his facial expression contorts into one of confusion as he wipes the inside of the glass in his hand

you’re sitting in front of him, legs crossed one over the other as they dangle over the barstool you’re on. your head rests in your hand innocently, as if what you had just said hadn’t affected you at all

you’ve never had a valentine’s date?

no. diluc just can’t accept it, at least, that’s what he decides as he puts the glass down and starts to remove his apron

before you know it, his hands are gripping yours, pulling you out the door and into the now sunset painted city you called your home

valentine’s wasn’t over yet, and diluc was sure as hell going to make sure you got that date

kaeya:

he laughs, his smile wide and his eyes teasing as he blinks through his tears

but then he sees the way you grimace and your eyes look anywhere but at him. he sees a sense nervousness and embarrassment wash over every inch of your face

he feels awful

kaeya hadn’t meant anything bad by his laughter. truthfully, he thought you were joking with him because, how could someone so utterly beautiful in every which way, someone so full of life, someone so perfect never have been asked on a date on valentines?

you were all he had ever wanted and more, and yet you weren’t even his

apologies come flying out of his mouth for a solid two minutes before you assure him it’s okay and, as expected, that stupid smirk appears on his face again

his hand is latching onto yours as he leans in close, asking you to join him on a date so he could make it up to you

and although he seems rather nonchalant on the outside, his heart is beating rapidly on the inside, begging you to accept so he could finally make you his

mona:

her mouth falls open at the sound of your response to the question

then it shuts…and then it opens again

meanwhile, you have to keep yourself from laughing too hard because of the way she currently resembles a fish

she huffs as she ignores your muffled laughter and tosses the pen she had been writing with to the side and gathers her papers on her desk

you’re still laughing, but her face is as serious and determined as ever

and before you know it, you were getting dragged out of her room and into yours. and your best friend tells you to get ready, as glammed up or as comfortable as you want

she was going to take you out on the best damn date of your life and maybe, just maybe, finally confess her feelings to you

zhongli:

his eyes widen in shock and he immediately sets his tea down to clasp his hands together

he’s silent, thinking carefully about what to say to your response to his question. honestly, he looks like someone had just murdered his grandma

deep down, he wants to ask why

but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you feel bad never having a date on valentine’s

his hand aches to reach for yours and hold it tight in his. secure it with all his adoration and love for you, make you realize he’d do anything to take you on a date — valentines or otherwise

slowly, his eyes reach back up to meet yours and he stands, unclasping his hands and extending one out for you to hold

“if you do not mind, i would like to have the pleasure of being your first valentine’s date. and, perhaps if you enjoy it, you would consider allowing me to take you out again.”

xiao:

he scoffs — why were you even telling him this anyway? he didn’t even like valentine’s day so what does this have to do with him?

yet, he doesn’t miss the way his heart seems to skip a beat before pounding furiously against his chest

was he angry? upset? emotional? sad? he wasn’t sure but, whatever it was, it was not a good feeling

he masks whatever emotion it was and displays the most neutral expression he could come up with

because, no, xiao is not jealous and most definitely does not care

yet, as much as the adeptus claimed to hate valentine’s day, he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit interested if it means he gets to spend the day with you

his eyes avoid yours and a small blush crosses his face as he offers a proposition:

“if you would like…maybe you could spend the day with me?”

kujou sara:

her arms cross as she leans sideways against the wall, staring directly at you as she scoffs

“who wouldn’t want to take you out on a date?”

shit

the general definitely did not mean to say that out loud

suddenly, she’s standing upright and stuttering left and right as you stand in front of her in shock

her hands are waving in front of her face sporadically as she desperately tries to explain herself

but then your silence turns into laughter and it feels like the world around her completely stops as you reassure her that it’s okay and that you’re actually quite flattered

embarrassed as she is, sara sighs and stares at anywhere but you, “i know it’s your favorite, so meet me at uyuu restaurant at 7 tonight. please don’t make me regret this.”

kazuha:

he offers a gentle smile and covers your hand in his own

“that’s okay, neither have i.”

you’re quick to ask him why, but he’s quick enough to ask you the same

you’re dumbfounded, but argue that you asked him first. and he explains, saying that he’s always preferred the wind and spending his time in nature rather than out on silly dates

and your eyes loose their shine a little, not only upset because you have to talk about the fact that no one had ever asked you on a valentine’s day before, but also because it meant you likely wouldn’t have the chance to ever go out with him

and he notices, because that’s just how kazuha is

“just because i said i don’t prefer to go on dates, doesn’t mean i don’t enjoy them. in fact, i would greatly appreciate it if you would join me at chinju forest later today. perhaps we could have a picnic and enjoy the scenery together?”

itto:

he gasps loudly, almost as if he’s in a horror movie and the killer just found him

it scares you at first, thinking that his sudden expression was not in reaction to your response, but then you realize itto was in fact reacting to you

it’s just his dramatic nature

his hand is over his heart and his eyes are shut, acting as if he’s in pain

“oh no! no, no, no! this just won’t do!”

and you laugh whole heartedly at him. a smile irresistibly tugs at your lips and your eyes are all wrinkled

and when you recover, itto’s looking at you with the brightest, most fondest look you think you’ve ever seen in your life

and it hits you: he was trying to make you laugh so that you wouldn’t feel bad

and then he’s all serious, but you can tell he’s really just nervous, “uh, hey listen, i can take you out…but only if you want! not that you have to or anything — no, no that would be uh…yeah!”

tighnari:

“valentine’s day is a rather trivial holiday. there’s no need to be so upset about never having had a date.”

your eyes fall to your hands as he says those words. not that he sees of course, seeing as he’s turned around at his desk, writing away at some papers

“yeah, no! i get it, you’re right,” you say. but your words don’t match your tone, and you hate how quick tighnari is to pick up on it

he sighs and turns around, still fiddling with the pen in his hand, but you don’t meet his eyes

you knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way, that’s just who he is, but you couldn’t help the hurt you felt when he spoke

and then he sighs again. although, this time a small, but genuine, smile graces his expression, “if a date is what will make you happy, then i would happily take some time off from work.”

cyno:

he’s hesitant to respond

not because he finds it appalling that you’ve never had a date on valentine’s day, but because he’s simply not well versed in relationships or emotional comfort in general

his eyes stay focused on the ground and his fingers tighten against the barrel of his polearm

he’s so quiet that you’re not even sure he heard your response

and he continues to think for a few more moments before huffing and just saying everything outright

overthinking wasn’t the mahamatra’s style

so he asks you out to dinner that night. not out of pity either, just simply because that’s what cyno wanted

sure he wasn’t a fan of the holiday, but his feelings for you are certainly enough to make him want to celebrate it

childe:

his hand is intertwined with yours as you walk together down the streets of liyue

“wait so, you’ve never had a valentine’s date before? as in, this is literally your first one ever?”

you don’t respond. instead, you stare at the buildings around you and all the other couples adorning the different restaurants and gift shops

childe isn’t stupid. he sees the way you get uncomfortable and instantly regrets making the comment

he speaks softly, “i’m honored, you know? besides, you couldn’t get a better first date than me.”

you’re slapping his arm in a matter of seconds, trying to hold back your laugh, but acting angry nonetheless

but then you’re laughing together and you realize, yeah, it really couldn’t get any better than him

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin valentine’s #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #mona x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #kujou sara x reader #kazuha x reader #itto x reader #tighnari x reader #cyno x reader #childe x reader #that last line in childe’s pained me to write #you really can do a lot better than him 😭

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luveline · 3 months

Note

If you’re still up for requests — could you maybe do one where peter or remus comes home after a visibly bad day and the reader misinterprets his behavior and assumes he’s upset with her instead ?? like she’s walking on eggshells, silently fussing around trying to figure out what she did, meanwhile all he wants to do is hold her and decompress 🥺☹️

absolutely no pressure! <33

“Oh my god.” Peter lets out a pained groan at the door, followed by the plastic crinkle of shopping bags hitting the floor. “My back. Jesus.”

You look up in surprise from your book at the table. “I thought we were going together?”

“I couldn’t face coming home and going out again.” He drags the bags to the fridge and pauses. “I figured you’d be okay with not having to go?”

“Sure,” you agree immediately. He has a black cranky fog around him, you can practically feel it as you get up to help him unpack the bags. He doesn’t seem best pleased with you.

He rubs his eyes, rubs his mouth, and turns to the sink. He runs the faucet, pulling one of the glasses back off of the draining board to fill, and wincing at the harsh sound when he turns it too fast. Peter forgets his own strength every now and then —usually when he’s not feeling well.

Peter gives you a funny look as you step into his space. You quickly step out of it and start to load groceries into the fridge and cabinets, pleased to find he’s bought the things you would’ve gotten yourself and even some things you’d have wanted but not allowed yourself. Maybe he’s not that mad after all—

“God damn,” he says, rolling an empty bag into a ball in his hand, “I forgot the fucking laundry detergent again.”

“That’s okay–”

“It’s not okay, you’ve asked me to get it three times this week.”

“I was just reminding you,” you say, fingers tingling with the potential of an impending argument. “It’s fine. We haven’t run out yet, we can squeeze another wash out of it. I’ll get some tomorrow.”

He sits down in the chair you’d been sitting in and moves your book and plate of snacks aside, neither gentle nor rough about it. “Damn,” he says again, dropping his face into his hands.

“Pete…”

His eyes must be sore by now he’s rubbing them so much, hands held to his eyes and fingers scratching into his hair. He tips his face toward the table and lets himself sit with whatever it is that’s getting him down. Me, you think worriedly. I shouldn’t have asked him to get groceries today. You knew he had a longer shift than usual, and that he’d want to do some Spidering afterward.

You’ve sorry on the tip of your tongue when he lays his face heavily in one hand, elbow on the table barely keeping him up, and holds the other out toward you. Rejecting him doesn’t even cross your mind.

“Fuck, I missed you today,” he says, taking your hand as soon as you offer it and dragging you toward him. You peer down at him with wide eyes as he wraps his arm around you, his nose quick to hide in the linen of your shirt. His voice tickles, “I just wanted to be with you. I knew this would make me feel better.”

There’s a little dry barb at the back of your throat you can’t speak past. Peter doesn’t notice, rubbing his cheek in your side as he repositions you for optimal hugging. He lets out a self-pitying whine, second arm joining the first in a lock behind your back. “You smell amazing.”

“I do?” you ask finally.

“I think you’re just made for me, angel,” he says, voice dragging with fatigue. “You always smell good.”

You squint with lips pursed, blinking in confusion as you bring your hand up to his hair. “Thanks for going to the store.”

“You’re welcome. I can’t function without groceries either, anyways.” He sighs with the particular Parker brand of lovelorn contentedness, a familiar sound. He makes the same noise when you’re tucked up in bed together on the weekends with nowhere to go, or holding hands on the subway travelling home, knee to knee or intertwined. “Can’t believe how quickly you make me feel better,” he murmurs.

“I kinda thought you were mad at me,” you confess, matching his tone.

“You have some strange wires crossed in your brain,” he says. His sympathy and affection for you is palpable; his hand tracks a soft line down the curve of your back.

“Yeah, I know. Do you want me to rub your shoulders?” you ask, pressing your face to the mop of his thick hair.

He hugs you tightly. “You’re my dream girl.”

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scuderiahoney · 5 months

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All You Got

Charles Leclerc x teammate!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You hate Charles Leclerc. The feeling is mutual. He’s made that clear from the very beginning. enemies to lovers anon I hope you’re still here and I hope I got this right!

Word Count: 5.4k

Warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mild swearing, mild car crash (everyone is fine), panic attacks, comments about sexual activities (but no actual sex/smut)

Everyone in the entire world seems to love Charles Leclerc. Honestly, you can’t blame them. Objectively, you get it. He’s the total package- good looks, kind, generous, rich. They fall at his his feet, and they worship the ground he walks on.

Everyone except for you.

To you, everything he does rubs you the wrong way. Charles Leclerc annoys you to no end. You can’t even pinpoint what it is, just- you can’t stand him. Which is becoming a problem, seeing as he’s your teammate, so you have to deal with him constantly.

Charles was a constant thorn in your side when you were just competing against each other from separate garages. Now he’s your paddock next door neighbor, your supposed collaborator, and the only person who you can truly be compared to. Equal machinery and all that. The truth is, he’s good at what he does, which only makes it so much worse.

You’re having a good season, a great one, even. You’re not a rookie, but it’s your first year with Ferrari, your first year with a car that isn’t a tractor. It’s just that you’re constantly being compared to and overshadowed by him. It’s awful and exhausting and you sit in the briefing before the race glaring daggers at the side of his head.

He’d slowed you down in Q3. You were on a flying lap and he got in the way, left you starting in 9th when you were on track for your best qualifying yet. He’d said it was an accident, and everyone else believed him. Including your own race engineer. You think maybe if you stare hard enough you could actually light all the product in his hair on fire. Then he has the audacity to come up to you after the meeting, to lay his hand on your upper arm softly. You wrench yourself out of his grip, turn to him with a snarl. He must take it as surprise rather than what it really is, because he has a soft smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, again, about quali,” he says, and you spot a camera over his shoulder and fight the urge to roll your eyes. “I’ll find a way to make it up to you, yes?”

“Crash out at the start,” you tell him, raising one brow. There’s a smile on your face and venom in your words. “And take Max out with you.”

“Anything but that,” he says.

He winks before he breezes past you, and if there hadn’t been so many people around, you think you may have actually slapped him this time.

…..

You collapse into a chair in a swanky restaurant that night, resting your chin on closed fists, elbows on the table. Lily, jumps when you do. Alex is sitting across from you, doing a bad job of hiding a laugh behind his hand.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you tell them, knuckles digging into your cheeks. “I’m going to pass all the cars between us tomorrow and ram him into the wall.”

“No, you’re not,” George says as he sits down, Carmen following behind. “Because when you do pass all those cars tomorrow, you’re going to want to stay in the race.”

“I was going to qualify second,” you groan. “I was, seriously-“

“I know,” George says, patting your shoulder. The waiter has appeared at the end of the table.

Alex points at you. “She’ll have a shot of tequila, please.”

“She has to drive tomorrow morning,” Lily reminds him.

“And we have to sit through dinner tonight,” George says.

You slap his shoulder, glaring daggers at him, now.

“Did he apologize?” Lily asks.

“Of course!” You snap. “Because he’s fucking Charles Leclerc, and-“

Before you can launch into one of your tirades, Lily waves her hand. “Forget I asked. Never mind. This subject is banned until the weekend is over- we’re all here, this is supposed to be a nice dinner.”

You sigh and slump into your chair. “Okay, mom.”

Once the conversation starts, though, and you have your shot of tequila, you forget about Charles. You’re here to spend time with your friends, not worry about your teammate. It’s the first time in a while that both of their girlfriends have been able to make it to the same race. You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and you refuse to let Charles sour it. Besides, they’ve all heard it before, they don’t need to hear you complain again.

The next day, when you take 5th and Charles takes first, you don’t let him see you cry. You sneak out of the celebrations as early as you possibly can and head back to the hotel.It’s just so frustrating. You’re trying so hard, giving it your all, and it’ll never be enough. You want the podiums, the trophies, the champagne spraying in your face. You want it all, everything Charles has. He takes it for granted.

When you open your hotel room door, there’s a giant bouquet of flowers on the dresser. For a moment, you think maybe it’s from your family, or maybe George and Alex, a sympathy present for a race that held so much potential. You slip your finger under the flap of the envelope and pull the card out of the white flowers.

Sorry about Quali,

You throw the flowers and the note in the trash and cry yourself to sleep.

…..

Lily tried to convince you that the flowers were actually supposed to be an apology, but you’d refused to see it as anything other than what it was- a way to get in your head. So at the next race, you leave it all on the track. You manage to qualify 4th- not the best you’ve ever done, but you feel pretty good about it. You feel even better that Charles is starting in 7th. He’ll be stuck in the midfield, in the dirty air, while you fight with the big dogs. You’re on cloud nine, floating around the garage, thanking your crew and your engineers and offering drinks on you if you get a podium on Sunday. It wouldn’t be your first, but it would be your first in a while, and it would really crush Charles, you just know it.

“Congrats,” he says, standing next to you in the media pen.

You think he waits to talk to you until there’s cameras around. It makes him look good, being nice to his teammate. You can play the PR game too. You plaster on a bright smile. Behind Charles, Alex raises his brows at you. You tone down the smile and he gives you a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” you say, shrugging slightly. “Sorry about seventh.”

He shrugs. “Could be worse.”

You head into the lion’s den just after that, hit with a barrage of questions about every aspect of the weekend. How does it feel to be starting fourth? Good. Do you feel good about your chances tomorrow? Yes. How’s the car feel? Good. Are you hoping for a podium? Always. What did you give Charles to convince him to let you qualify higher than him this weekend? What?

The reporter who asked it is sneering at you. Your media handler balks at the question, fumbles to grab your arm. She’s afraid you’re going to snap, but to be honest, you’re too dumbfounded to find the words. Maybe he doesn’t deserve a response anyways.

“She didn’t give me anything,” Charles says, grabbing the microphone from your hand, and now you’re seeing red for a different reason. “She didn’t need to. She did it all on her own.”

Which is true, and nice of him to say. Objectively. But he’s not saying it because it’s true, or because he wants to be nice. You can already picture his devoted fans, clipping the video and making TikTok edits that make him look like a saint. He is, in their eyes. In everyone’s eyes.

You leave the microphone with him and stalk back to your driver room.

You run into Charles in the hallway later, when you’re slinking your way to catering to try and find something good to eat. He’s just- there, all of the sudden, broad shoulders taking up all the space. You try to slip around him, but he moves with you.

You look up at him, raising your brows and throwing your hands up. “What, Leclerc?”

He raises his brows, too. “Just wanted to say sorry. For what he said. It’s not true, you know.”

“Yes, Charles, I know I didn’t… blow you or whatever to get you to let me qualify better,” you say, and he rears his head back. “Can you move?”

“Hey,” he says, voice soft. “Look, I just wanted to say-“

“I think you’ve said enough,” you snap. “You said it all, live on camera. The whole world heard it.”

“I was just trying to stand up for you.”

“I can stand up for myself,” you say, throat feeling tight. “I’ve been doing it my whole career. No need to step in now. And honestly, we both know you get off on being the savior, so cut the shit.”

You finally find a gap and slip around him. You walk out of the garage and all the way down to Williams. Nobody stops you when you head to Alex’s room- he’s there, and George is too.

“We were wondering when you’d show up,” George says, as Alex holds his arms out wide. “Fucking bullshit, the whole lot of it.”

You nod and collapse into Alex’s chest. Neither of them comment on your tears.

“At least Charles stood up for you,” George says brightly.

“Fuck off,” you say, and Alex slaps his shoulder for you.

…..

They call a red flag three laps in, and your team calls you into the pits before you can even figure out what’s going on. You’re in third, having moved past Lewis in the opening chaos. Your heart sinks, knowing that when the race restarts you’ll have lost the lead you’d built up. You search the big screens as you pull into the pit lane, trying to figure out what’s happened, and then your heart sinks even more.

It’s a Mercedes, crumpled against the barriers. They only show it for a second, and you can’t hear any of what the commentators are saying. You hadn’t caught the number or the helmet, and- it’s either Lewis or George.

As much as you like Lewis, you’ve been friends with George since you were little. He and Alex had taken you under their wings, accepted you when a lot of the others wouldn’t. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest as they help you climb out of your car.

You flip your visor up and look to the nearest mechanic. “Who is it?”

He stares, blankly, and you already know.

“Who is it?” You ask, louder, looking around the room frantically.

“S’George,” someone finally answers.

“Is he-“

“We don’t know yet,” someone says, gently. “Just-“

The panic claws at your chest. You haven’t felt like this a long time, not since Lily called you from the hospital when Alex had appendicitis. You can’t breathe, can’t see, can feel your fingers.

There’s a ripple of noise, applause from the crowd. You look at the TV, see George, standing strong and holding up a thumbs up. It should be a relief, but the panic doesn’t fade. Suddenly someone’s hands are on your shoulders, guiding you into the hallway. Fingers brush against your jaw, unbuckling your helmet and wiggling it off your head. You gasp for air, and strong hands hold you steady.

“Breathe, breathe, it’s okay, he’s okay,” Charles says.

You should be shocked it’s him, but right now all you can feel is panic. You grab onto his wrists, looking for an anchor in the storm. He doesn’t let go, just holds onto you, squeezes your shoulders until you start breathing slower and slower. He only drops his grip when you drop yours. You wipe tears and snot and sweat from your face and sigh.

Suddenly it hits you- it’s Charles, holding onto you, witnessing your panic attack. You take a couple steps back.

“It’s okay,” he says again, reaching out. You brush him away. “Hey, how about we go sit, yes? Have some water?”

“I’m fine,” you sniffle.

“You’re not.”

“Why do you care?” You ask, tears springing to your eyes again.

“Because you’re my teammate,” he says. “Because your friend crashed and you are upset.”

You roll your eyes. Charles has the audacity to look confused. Like he doesn’t know.

“You don’t have to act like you like me, Charles. There aren’t any cameras around,” you snap.

Charles blinks once, then again. “What?”

“You can drop the act,” you say as you cross your arms over your chest. “I already know you hate me, you don’t have to pretend. You can go.”

Charles looks utterly and completely perplexed. For a moment, you falter. He hates you. Why does he seem so confused? It’s not that difficult to understand. Why had he even come back here with you in the first place? He could’ve let one of your crew members help you, or left you to deal with it alone. What the hell is going on here?

“I don’t hate you,” he says, voice soft. “Why would you think I hate you?”

“You’ve hated me since I got here,” you remind him. “Actually, since before I even signed the fucking contract.”

“What are you talking about?”

You stare at him, wide eyed. Is it possible he doesn’t even remember? Maybe he hates you that much.

“When I came to the factory for contract negotiations,” you start, “you made it very clear I was the last possible person you wanted as your teammate.”

You’d been leaving the factory. He’d stopped you in the hall. Sounds like you might be my new teammate, he’d said. Hopefully, if it all goes well, you’d replied. Any advice?

He’d looked around, checked to see that nobody was there. Then, voice low and serious, arms crossed, he’d said, this is the last place you belong. If you know what’s best for you, you will not sign that contract.

You’d left that day heartbroken and with a vendetta against him.

Charles’ eyes go wide when you repeat his words back to you. “I did not say that.”

“I think I’d remember,” you tell him, trying again to shove past him.

“No, no, I mean- I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, insistent, grabbing onto your arm gently. “I- that was before they hired Fred, yes?”

“Yes?” You answer, furrowing your brows at him.

“And before they changed the staff, before they-“ he sighs. “I had a shit year. I was worried the next was going to be the same. I was trying to warn you.”

Now it’s your turn to blink once, then again. “No, you…”

“I swear,” he says. “On my life, I swear.”

He draws a tiny cross with his finger, right over his heart. You take a step back and drag a hand down your face. Your head is spinning, tilted on an insane axis.

“You thought I hated you, all this time?” He says, brows furrowed. “I sent you flowers, after the quali thing-“

“I thought you were playing mind games!” You cry out.

He’s reaching for your arm again. This time you let him. His fingers dig into your skin pleasantly- not enough to feel bad, just enough to know he’s there. It’s like the fight has suddenly left your body. He doesn’t hate you. He sent you flowers because he really was sorry.

And you threw them in the trash.

“So when I stood up for you with that reporter, you thought…” he trails off, then laughs. “What, you thought I was- this is why you reacted so badly. This explains so much.”

“Yes!” You say, nodding. “Why are you so fucking ominous with your warnings? Why were you so cryptic?”

“English is not my first language and I had to be careful about how I said it, there could have been people listening!” He says, laughing again. “You didn’t listen, anyways.”

“No, because then I wanted to prove to you that I could handle myself, that I deserved the seat!”

“Of course you deserved the seat,” he says, wide eyed. “That was never a question.”

The two of you stare at each other for a beat. Then you double over in laughter, tears streaming down your face for a different reason. Charles joins you, his laughter mixing with yours for the first time ever. The noise of it sends a jolt through your heart.

He doesn’t hate you. How crazy is that?

…..

When you run into Alex in the paddock later, he’s staring like you’ve grown a second head. Actually, with the intensity of his stare, you think you may have grown two extra heads. Maybe even a third eye. He comes to a stop in front of you, and you cock your head at him.

“Hey, Al,” you greet him. “Have you seen Georgie? He’s not at Merc.”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s at the stewards, doing a debrief,” Alex says. “He said he’d meet us at the driver briefing.”

“Oh, cool,” you say. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s fine,” Alex says, eyes flickering across your face.

“That’s good. I’m glad,” Charles says from his spot next to you.

His arm is slung around your shoulders, his race suit tied around his waist, just like yours. You take it in from Alex’s viewpoint- the proximity, the fact that you’re even letting him touch you, and the look on his face makes sense.

“Hey, did you know Charles doesn’t actually hate me?” You ask Alex, and next to you, your teammate laughs.

“I told you that a million times,” Alex deadpans.

“Huh. Weird.” You shrug. “We should go, the briefing starts in five minutes.”

Alex trails behind the two of you, quiet the whole way there. Charles peels off when you arrive and stops to say hi to Max. George is already sitting down in a chair near the front. You sit down next to him, eyes tracing over him like you’re looking for injuries. Alex sits on his other side.

“I’m fine,” George says, nudging your shoulder lightly.

“Excuse me if I’m worried,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

Alex opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, someone sits down next to you and elbows you lightly. It’s Charles, a cold water bottle in hand, extended towards you. You take it eagerly. His knee nudges against yours, and you nudge him back. You thank him, opening the water bottle and taking a drink.

“Mate, I think I hit my head harder than I realized,” George whispers to Alex.

“Nope, you’re seeing correctly,” Alex says, holding his hands up when George turns towards him. “I don’t know either!”

…..

It turns out that when you’re not busy thinking Charles hates you, and hating him back, he’s actually pretty fun to be around. The two of you have nearly everyone else bewildered for the next few races, because you’re suddenly attached at the hip. You’ve always been civil in public, but this is a different story.

In briefings, Charles saves you a seat, and Alex and George have to fight over who gets to sit next to you. You eat lunches and dinners together in the paddock, out in the open at a patio table. Charles brings you coffee in the mornings, and you bring him pastries. During breaks, the two of you can often be found hunched over your phone, watching YouTube videos together. You have a surprising amount in common. You wonder how you never saw it before.

Charles even takes you with him to play padel one morning, brings you a half hour early to try and show you how. When George and Alex show up to play against you, they stare at you in confusion for a solid thirty seconds.

“You don’t understand,” Alex says over lunch with you and Lily later that day. “He had his hand on her waist.”

Lily is the only one who hadn’t been surprised. She shrugs.

“He was correcting my posture,” you say. “Alex is just mad that I beat him.”

“Charles beat me, you were just on his team,” Alex corrects. He’s not exactly wrong. “Come on, like, two months ago she hated his guts. Tell me this isn’t crazy, Lil. I think we need an intervention.”

“You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to talk about the intervention in front of the intervention-ee,” you say, stirring your pasta. “Intervention-ette?”

“She’s fine,” Lily says, smiling at you. “She’s just finding out that hate and love are a lot more similar than you’d think.”

You drop your fork, wincing when it clatters. “I don’t love him.”

Lily cocks her head at you. You freeze. Alex is looking back and forth between the two of you like it’s a tennis match. You can feel your face growing hot.

“I don’t,” you repeat. “We’re friends, that’s all.”

Lily blinks, feigns surprise. “I never said anything about romantic love.”

You swallow. “Yeah, but that’s what you meant-“

“That’s what you assumed I meant,” she says, and you blink.

There are butterflies in your stomach- where did those come from? You definitely don’t love Charles. Like Alex said- two months ago, you hated him. Well, you hated that he hated you. You hated the way you thought he was treating you. But now, in a different light, his actions seem a bit endearing. You’re just swept up in the new friendship, that’s all. Lily’s reading too far into it.

You tell her as much, and she drops the subject. Alex seems happy to move on, a bit unprepared to handle the whole conversation. But Lily watches you, and you can’t help but feel like maybe she knows something you don’t.

…..

It sticks in your head, is the thing. Hate and love are a lot more similar than you think. And to be honest, it sort of makes sense. Both very strong emotions, both making your chest feel tight and your cheeks feel hot. You’re not in love with Charles, though. You can’t be. He’s just- a friend. He’s a friend, and it’s new, and of course you’re going to spend time together. You’re getting to know each other! This is normal, this is teammate bonding like you were supposed to do when you joined the team.

It’s not weird that Charles introduces you to his family when they come to one of the races. It’s not weird that you’re inviting him out for drinks when you go out with George and Alex after a race. It’s not weird that you start actually playing padel and asking him to help you practice- it’s fun, and he’s good at it, that’s all.

Then you’re out at a club in Monaco one night, surrounded by other drivers. You go to leave, Lily tugging on your hand. The two of you are having a sleepover without Alex. You’re saying your goodbyes, waving and smiling and-

Charles grabs onto you, hauls you into a hug. He’s a little tipsy, you think, but not drunk. You laugh and lean into the hug, wrap your arms around him, breathe in the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent. Then he pulls away, puts his hands on your shoulders, and kisses both of your cheeks.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. Lily has to drag you away as you giggle before you make a fool of yourself. Charles waves and smiles brightly when you turn around. You burst out onto the sidewalk and cover your face in your hands. Really, it means nothing. It’s just his way of greeting people or saying goodbye, it’s a thing he does. But your chest feels warm and your head is swimming, and it’s not the alcohol.

“Oh, shit,” you say to Lily, who’s smiling at you.

“Love and hate,” she reminds you.

…..

You swear Lily to secrecy, and though she loves Alex, she would never sell you out, thank god. You’re determined to act like everything is normal. You can’t be in love with your teammate. That would be crazy. It would be awful. It would be everything that everyone has ever said about female drivers, all confirmed. You’d get torn apart on the internet.

It’s not easy, though, because it’s Charles. Because he’s sweet and kind and handsome, and he cares about you. He doesn’t hate you. He wants to spend time with you, all the time. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but you think they’ve got it backwards. Maybe there’s a second part- presence makes the heart go crazy.

When you qualify in pole position for the first time in your F1 career, you have a panic attack. It’s a massive one, one that has your legs giving out and leaves you hyperventilating. It’s bad enough that Charles almost goes and gets George or Alex, but you beg him to stay with you, so he does. Eventually, he just wraps you up tightly in his arms and holds you there until you can breathe again.

“I’m not going to be able to do it,” you sniffle, as he runs his hand over your hair and rocks you from side to side. “I’m gonna crash on the first turn and then everyone is gonna be right, and I’ll lose my seat, and then-“

“No, amour, that is not going to happen,” Charles soothes, chest rumbling against you. “It is not. You are going to do just fine.”

“But what if I don’t? What if I can’t win, what if I don’t do it-“

“Then you will try again next time,” he says, so sure of it, like he can see the future. “You are starting on pole tomorrow. It’s scary, I know. But it’s just another race. You just… go out and give it your all. The same way you do every weekend.”

“You’ll keep them away from me?” You ask. Charles is starting third.

“No,” he scoffs, a laugh bubbling up from his lips. For just a moment, your heart breaks. Then, he says, “I will not need to. You will be so far ahead you’ll forget anyone else is even there.”

You laugh, press your teary face into his chest. “Shut up.”

…..

You check your rear views before the race starts, something comforting running through your veins when you see Charles behind you. You can’t see his face, can barely see his helmet, but you see the red. Then the lights go out, and he disappears in a blur. Give it all you got, you hear, unsure if it’s your race engineer or you or a voice in your head. You hold your breath for the first few turns, maybe for the whole first lap. And then your race engineer is talking about gaps and clean air and tire management, and you’re looking ahead, trying to see what car you need to try and pass next, trying to tell if you’re in DRS range, and then-

There’s nobody in front of you. Clean air. You’re in first. You’re leading the Grand Prix.

When you come careening over the line at the end of the race, when you see the checkered flag first, when you spot your crew on the pit wall, you swear your heart is going to beat out of your chest. Your race engineer is yelling in excitement. You think you’re yelling too, but you have no idea what you’re saying. It doesn’t matter.

You pull the car into the first place slot and climb out. You have to wrack your brain to remember what you’re supposed to do- it’s been so long since you’ve won a race, back when you were still in F2. Hug the team, get weighed, shake hands, grab the hat- Someone grabs your arm. You spin around and come face to face with Ferrari red. Charles.

He pulls you into a tight hug. Your helmets knock together. He’s saying something, over and over again.

“-told you, I told you, I knew you would do it,” he says. “I’m so proud of you.”

Charles takes your helmet and balaclava for you when you finally get them off. He takes his off too, and his face is red, dimples deep as he grins at you. He’s finished 7th, he tells you. Got passed in the first lap and never recovered.

“-told you you didn’t need me defending,” he says, and you’re laughing, shoving his shoulder. “You did so fucking good-“

The butterflies are going crazy in your stomach. You want to kiss him. The helmet has left a little indent on his cheek- you want to run your finger over it. But there are so many cameras and people watching, and suddenly you’re being pulled away from him, sent to the cool down room. Then it’s shaking hands with Max and Lewis again, watching the race highlights, basking in the excitement of it all. There’s the podium, the champagne, the trophy that you don’t let go of until you get back to the Ferrari garage. The giant group photo with the trophy, more champagne dumped over your head, Charles lost in the sea of red somewhere. It’s all such a blur.

You finally stumble back to your driver’s room, in a rush to change out of your race kit and grab your stuff. Someone has rented out a bar- they apparently did it when you qualified on pole, and didn’t tell you for fear of jinxing it. You text George and Alex, tell them where to meet you. With your stuff in hand, in a pair of sweatpants and a Ferrari sweatshirt, you finally stop and look in the mirror.

F1 Grand Prix winner.

There’s a knock on the door. You open it and find Charles standing there, in a very similar outfit. The line on his face has faded, but his hair is still a mess. You step back from the door and give him room to step inside. He’s staring at you, a soft look on his face. You’re holding your breath again. It’s the first lap. You just have to make it through the turns, get out ahead into clean air. His lips are parted, eyes wide and sparkling.

His hands are shaky when they cup your face. Yours are even shakier when you fist your hands in his sweatshirt. But the kiss he pulls you into is steady and sure and true. You melt into him, shoving your hands under his sweatshirt as he pulls you close with an arm around your waist. You reach up, thread your fingers through his hair, let his tongue slip into your mouth.

When he pulls away, his eyes are wild.

“We have to go,” he says, squeezing your hip. “You have a party to be at. Also, you are so pretty.”

You can remember the way he looked at you at the start of the season. How you thought the fire in his eyes was going to burn you alive. You’d stoked your own fire to burn him up first. Now you’re blazing, and you never want the fire to go out.

“I can’t believe I thought you hated me,” you say, muffling a laugh into his chest. “You’re coming to the party, right?”

“Of course,” he says. He cups your face in his hands again and presses another kiss to your lips. “And tomorrow, you are coming on a date with me, right?”

You laugh, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “Of course.”

“Perfect,” he says, kissing your forehead and then letting you go. “Come on, winner. You have so many people waiting to buy you drinks.”

…..

When you walk into the bar hand in hand with Charles, Lily slams her hand down on the table.

“Pay up, boys,” she says, a wide grin on her face.

“Never in a million years did I see that coming,” George says.

“I’m never betting against Lily ever again,” Alex adds.

Max leans down over the table, holding his hand out, too. George and Alex groan and start pulling cash from their wallets.

“Hate and love,” Max says, a smirk on his face. “Very thin line, huh?”

woo! enemies to lovers, classic trope in the bag! come say hi and let me know what you think. send me a dm or drop me an ask to be added to the tag list!

taglist: @4-mula1

#charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fic #Charles Leclerc angst #enemies to lovers #cl16 #honeywrites #Charles Leclerc

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too-much-tma-stuff · 1 month

Text

Finally Getting Help (prt. 10)

Mastterpost

A/N: Thank you all for the well wishes about my dog. Unfortunately he didn't make it and pass away Tuesday morning in the vet's office. I was able to get some writing done but I don't have the energy to edit. Let me know if you find any mistakes.

-----

Jason: hey, thanks for the gun and the tech, it's really cool.

Danny: new phone who dis 😝

Jason: I hope you haven't given too many people guns in the last couple days.

Danny: no I haven't, thanks for texting me Jason. Have you got a chance to try the gun?

Jason: not on anything moving, I've been doing some target practice to get a feel for it though. Looking forward to when I can test it on Vlad.

Danny: aww are you going to avenge my honor 🥺

Jason: if you want me too. I'll bring you his head if you want me too.

Danny: 🥰 you're so sweet. I wouldn't say no to seeing him suffer for what he's done but don't get yourself in any trouble okay? And if you do call me right away. I'll come rescue you 😘

Jason: hey I'm the one offering to protect you!

Danny: we can protect each other. And fight each other, can you come spar again soon?

Jason: I wouldn't call that sparring, more like brawling.

Danny: eh potato potato, do you want to come fight me again?

Jason: if demon brat won't kill me for it, sure. Can I take you out for dinner afterwards? I have some questions

Danny: It's a date! Just tell me when

Jason: Day after tomorrow? I have some work to take care of first.

Danny: Sounds great! And it is a date right? You don't mind that I'm going to have kids?

Jason: the kids aren't a deal breaker I promise but let's not jump the gun okay? We're going to be family through B so we don't want this to blow up in our faces. Let's hang out, take it slow, see how it goes. You need to be careful about who you let into your life now anyway, you can't just let anyone around you and the babies.

Danny: don't tell me what to do 😠 but you're right. I'm bad about rushing into things. I'm still looking forward to it.

Danny: By the way Jazz uploaded the power point she made about Liminals and Ghosts to the bat’s server thing. You have access to that right? You should read that before we meet and I can fill in the gaps.

Jason: Sounds good, I’ll have a look at it and I’m looking forward to it too. I'll be there at 5 so we can spar before dinner. Don't forget to warn B and your guard dog.

Danny: Damian is a good kid. I'll let them know.

Danny stared at his new phone Tim had given him with apprehension. The chat with Jason had gone very well, and Danny was glad he reached out but there were other people he really needed to reach out to and he was… frankly scared. Sam and Tucker were his best friends and had always been there for him but they both had tempers. Would they be mad that he hadn’t told them he was pregnant? Would they be upset he had left Amity and wasn’t planning on coming back?

He needed to reach out though, the longer he waited the harder it would be to talk to them, and things wouldn’t stay calm as they were now. Vlad would be back to cause trouble again and even though the JLD had control of the portal but he was sure his rogues would find their way through eventually. Vlad had his own portal anyway, and Danny wouldn’t put it past him to open it just to annoy Danny. Maybe try and weaken him a little so Vlad could swoop in and pick him off.

Today was quiet, he needed to take this chance. He sighed and got up off the edge of his bed where he was sitting and ducked out of his room. He didn’t want to do this alone, so he wasn’t surprised when he found himself in the library where Jazz was studying.

He sat down across from her and reached across, laying his hand, palm up on the table. Without looking up from her book she reached over and placed her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiled at her and took a deep breath before putting on his earbuds and sending a message in the group chat.

Danny: When you guys are ready can we call?

Jazz phone went off too and she checked it, smiled at Danny, and then silenced the chat and went back to her book. She didn’t need to be part of this call but at least she knew what he was doing.

Sam: Yes, let me just grab Tuck. He’s playing Doomed.

Danny took a deep breath and put down his phone while he waited for them to call and tried not to panic.

When the phone buzzed he jumped and reached for it, joining the call quickly.

“Hey guys,” He said, awkwardly, waving with the hand that wasn’t holding the phone.

“Hey yourself! What the heck happened Danny?! Basically the whole town joined in in chasing Vlad when we found out what he did but why did we have to find out on tv?! Why didn’t you tell us?!” Sam said, but at least she just seemed stressed, not actually angry.

“I’m sorry guys,” Danny said, wincing a little when he heard Tucker sniffling a little. “I hadn’t told anyone yet. I hadn’t even fully accepted it yet honestly.

“I still wasn’t ready to talk about it, bur Cass is really good at reading people's body language and I guess she clocked that I was carrying them by how I kept unconsciously touching my stomach. When she asked me about it it sorta broke through my denial and I broke down which started the ball rolling on… all this,” He said with a vague gesture.”

“All this is right!The justice league really brought the hammer down on Amity. They’re dismantling the GIW and really pissed at the government and basically all the adults in the town for letting this happen. And they arrested your parents!” Sam said sounding almost excited.

“Sam! That was really insensitive! They’re still his parents, what if he didn’t know!?” Tucker broke in furiously.

“No it’s alright I knew, Jazz told me. She’s here with me,” He said squeezing her hand though she wasn’t paying attention to the call.

“Okaaay so where is Here?” Tucker asked warily.

“Ya are you safe? We haven’t seen you since all this went down! Are you really with Bruce Wayne?” Sam asked sounding wary.

“Yes I am. He’s got a foster license and since his kids were the one that found out what was going on it just made sense that I’d stay here.”

“And he’s Not another Fruitloop?” Sam asked warily. “You need to be careful with these rich people you know? They’re basically all crazy!”

“Sam you’re rich,” Danny pointed out, amused.

“Ya, and? My point stands!”

“Fair enough,” Danny laughed. “But no, I did some snooping the first night I was here and it seems okay. And since he’s got close ties to the Justice League he was able to get the help we really needed, and he says he might be able to help me meet Martian Manhunter!”

“Don’t fanboy out too bad,” Tucker teased him.

“Oh ya? And what if I helped you meet Tim Drake? Would you not be just as bad,” Danny accused Tucker.

“Touche,” Tucker said. “Could you though?”

“I mean maybe? He’s my foster brother now and he seems cool. You two are my best friends, if I’m going to stay I’m sure you could come visit me and meet all of them.”

“Are you really going to stay there though? I mean once the GIW and everything is cleared out you could stay with either of us. I know my parents aren’t your biggest fans but I know they’d let you stay,” Sam said sounding worried.

“And I know my family doesn't have a ton of money but they adore you, we’d make it work,” Tucker added looking worried.

“No, guys I really appreciate the offer but… I don’t want to come back to Amity. The Justice League said they shut down the portal and I really need a fresh start I think. I think I’d rather stay here. Jazz too, she’s gonna study at Gotham U and intern at Arkham,” He said. She looked up at the mention of her name and gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry, you guys are my best friends and I’ll miss you, but there are too many… memories in Amity you know?”

“Ya I get that,” Sam said, looking sad and distant.

“We can still call, and play Doomed together, and visit on breaks!” Tucker said, his chipper tone sounding a little forced. “We’re going to say friends!” He insisted and Danny smiled.

“Of course we will Tuck,” He promised. They might grow apart with the distance between them, but he hoped not, they really were his best friends.

“Ya, my parents will probably be thrilled about this development and want me to come over all the time. They love the Waynes,” Sam chuckled though her optimism also seemed a bit forced. Of course she was more of a pessimist, she probably thought they would drift apart, but knew Danny needed them right now.

“Soo what’s been going on in Amity since I left?” Danny asked, letting them ramble about the drama, the rumours, and the bullshit that was the bullies and everyone in the school sudden;y pretending they cared about Danny soooo much.

After they finished telling him about it there were a few beats of silence and Danny was just about to suggest they hang up when Sam spoke up again.

“So, what actually happened with Vlad? If you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay but…”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not what- what you’d think. It’s superhero bullshit really. When I wouldn’t be his son he decided to try and clone me, you met Dani with an I right? She was one of the clones. But he didn’t know I was trans, and my DNA got all fucked up in the portal so none of the clones were stable. I have no idea how many he tried to make that died. But when I found out it was because he had lied to Dani and told her he needed me to stabilize her clone brothers. It was a batch of ten.

“But he lied, he didn’t actually care about stabilizing them, he was going to let them all die. I was only able to save the two that were most stable and only by taking their cores into myself. So I’m not normal pregnant, I’m ghost pregnant.

What is my life huh?” He finished, chuckling awkwardly.

“Oh fuck,” Sam said her shoulders slumping a little even as her expression went through a range of emotions. “That’s better in a way but still a whole different type of fucked up! I hope they catch him soon.”

“I hope so too but I don’t think they will,” Danny said with a shrug. “Not before he tries something else. I’m not lucky enough to be able to just move past this,” He said with a bitter little laugh.

“Well, we can still hope. And even if he does cause trouble you have more allies now! You’ve been able to handle everything else he’s thrown at you basically on your own, with the Justice League behind you I know there’s nothing you can’t handle. I mean, Vlad is kind of pathetic anyway,” Tucker encouraged making Danny smile.

“Ya, you’re right, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Thanks guys,” he said fondly.

“Of course dude! We’re here for you!” Tucker said.

“It’s really good to hear from you too. Don’t be a stranger okay?” Sam said, a bit worried.

“Of course not, I’ll keep you posted I promise.” Danny assured before they said their goodbyes and he hung up.

He put down his phone and leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. Next to him Jazz chuckled and there was a soft snap as she closed her book.

“You did well little brother,” She told him, getting up from her seat she moved behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders.

“How do you know? You weren’t listening.”

“No, but you reached out to your friends and had an honest conversation which isn’t easy. You did well,” She reiterated, squeezing his shoulders.

“Well thanks Jazz. I hope that they’re right that we won’t lose touch, and I’ll be able to handle whatever Vlad does,” He grumbled.

“I’m sure we will,” Jazz promised. “And either way there’s no point in worrying about it now. Has Jason texted you yet?” She asked, giving Danny the excuse he needed to change the subject and launch into his more petty worries about the upcoming date as she sat back down to listen.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dead on main #jason todd #danny fenton #jazz fenton #damian wayne #sam manson #tucker foley #trans!danny #Danny is pregnant #finally getting help au #bad parents jack and maddie #Vlad is a creep

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calisources · 2 months

Text

𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂, 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋, 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences have been taken from different media to be compiled into a list. This is not a meme for minors, the content here goes from mild to highly sexual, topics like dominance, submissive, bondage,praise kink and breeding are all present so discretion is key. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

You are perfect. And now you wear my mark, your ass is mine.

Tie me up, please…

Kiss me hot,heavy,wet & angry with that attitude like you do when your mouth yells it hates me but your tongue screams it can’t wait for me.

Let me undress your body, caress your skin and wetly massage your mind back into making love to me again.

They wanted her. They all loved her. And they wanted to keep her.

A little vanilla never hurt anybody.

If you have any sense you’ll stay away from him.

Touch me, like this, like a good girl.

That’s it, use your tongue.

I'd planned to have you on your bed the first time, but maybe I should take you here, by the mirror, so you can see how splendid we are together.

I’m not going to deny that I want to fuck you. I cannot do anything else, But I will say that I have plans for you if you say yes.

I’ll fuck you so good, for so long that the only thing you’ll crave is my hands on your skin, my cock deep in your pussy.

I want a second serving of you. I’m hard just thinking of your perfect breasts and hard nipples.

As much as I appreciate that, right now you’re all I want to eat.

Now will you please sit on my face already?

You are corrupting me, Theo.

But you like being corrupted, don't you, sweet girl?

The destruction of something beautiful can appear so entertaining.

If women were totally satisfied with their sexual and lovemaking experiences, women would welcome the lovemaking experience as much as men.

I want to learn from you. Teach me what you know.

Once I make you mine, you will be mine forever. I will call you and you will come, in more ways than one.

What have I taught you? Show me, sweet girl.

Use your thighs, ride like it’s your last day on this earth.

I been aching to be inside you since we met, you devil woman.

Hands braced against the wall, and open your legs.

You tasted sweet, like oranges, liquid sunshine in my mouth.

I need you. Every pore of my being is begging. This is what we do.

The things I want from you, darlin’, will give you nightmares, ones like you’ve never had before.

If you could read my mind, I’m pretty sure you’d either be traumatized, sexually aroused or both.

The nicer you treat her outside the bedroom, the naughtier it will get inside the bedroom.

Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature.

That’s it. You can take a lot more, don’t you? Hold on to me.

If you behave, I’ll let your hands go and touch me.

I love your skinny legs, and what's between them.

I don't want words, but inarticulate cries.

All you have to do is beg, and I will give you what you want.

I want you splayed out on the table like my own personal feast.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

You make the sweetest little noises. But I need you to be louder, let everyone know.

It's like an itch, isn't it? You can feel it in your throat. You want to scream for me.

Every time you move tomorrow, I want you to be reminded that I've been here. Only me. You are mine.

I felt like an animal, and animals don't know sin, do they?

And ye whimper under me, and struggle as though you wanted to get away, and I know it's only that you're struggling to come closer, and I'm fighting the same fight.

I can help you with that.

Forgetting him. Moving on. I’m okay with being your rebound. I’ve already said that I want you.

You’ll give yourself to me? Let me take control? Let me send you over the edge of ecstasy time and again until you awaken?

Possess. Have. Hold. Enjoy. Control. Dominate. Pick your verb, Ms. Fairchild. I intend to explore so very many of them.

I feel claimed.

You’re so primed. I can feel that hot little pussy clenching around me every time I move a muscle or say a word.

Yeah, arch your back so I can look at you going nice and tight around my fingers.

Pet, I give you permission to be as vocal as you wish, because I am going to blow your mind in a few minutes and I want to hear how much you enjoy the ride.

If you want me to touch you, all you have to do is ask. It would be my pleasure - and yours.

Watch me make love to you.

I'd like to bite that lip.

I want you sore, baby.

I cannot let you burn me up, nor can I resist you.

There is no room in my body for anything but you.

Eat me, drink me; thirsty, cankered, just take me as I am.

I live for sex. I celebrate it, and relish the electricity of it, with every fibre of my being.

I’m not wearing anything underneath. Want to see?

You will be staying here until I’ve deemed it safe for you to go back to your life. Do you understand me?

Dominate you? Yes. Master you? yes. Make you yield to what you want, make you surrender to who you truly are? Yes.

Why don’t you scream my name? Let every other man and woman who you belong to.

I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

I taught you everything you know. Every man after me is just a shadow of what I did to you.

I knew you could be a good girl.

You were fucking made for me.

God is not gonna save you from me, baby.

My mouth wants you, I want to feel you in my mouth, way down in my mouth.

I am moist between the legs.

I came three times. During sex.

Do you know all the ways a Lady can be seduced? The things I could teach you?

You stay right where daddy puts you, baby girl.

Wait until you taste her. She is fucking delicious.

Lick my fingers and feel how wet you are.

Are there big, bad monsters in the woods who want to eat me up?

Right there, don’t stop. I can feel it.

Please come in me, I don’t care, I want to feel you.

Where do you want it, baby girl? Your cunt, your mouth or your neck?

Close your eyes and relax. One kiss. I don’t bite.

Seriously? In the morning, again?

You said to rest but I can feel you hard against my back.

You can do all the rest sweet, let me take care of you.

I want you to fuck me, Chris.

A little playful banter never hurt — or did it?

One should always explore something, before one goes in deeper.

Come here and undress me.

How am I supposed to do my job when all I can think about is getting back to you?

Someone could walk in on us.

Better be good and come fast, then. Or everyone will see you begging for more.

I can imagine my hands getting your fucking clothes off right now.

Do not shy away from the sensations I create, Cherry Blossom. Take pride in them, as I do.

Am I doing it good, baby? Just like you taught me?

Tell me I’m a good girl. Your only girl.

When I come, I come for you. Because of you and your mouth, hands, and insatiable little cunt.

My tongue, my fingers, my cum inside you. Just you and me, Eva. Intimate and raw.

How many have been with you ever since? Or no one compared? Tell me.

Show me then. I demand that you show me. That’s an order.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #smut prompt #kink prompt #usft tw

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desceros · 1 month

Text

tries to sleep, fails, gets melancholy, copes by writing purple turtle fic donatello/reader, gn!reader, rated t, 1.6k. insomnia, friends to.... friends, (were you ever just friends? are you something more? what is love if not friendship shifted an inch to the left?), yearning, yearning, yearning, yearning—

Donatello is sleeping.

Hefting a fatigued sigh, you hover in the doorway to his bedroom for a moment. Staring at his face, taking it in. He’s gotten unfairly handsome as the years have gone by. Beautiful, even. Pretty angles, sharp defined lines, dark seductive eyes. Like this, unmasked, slack in sleep, it’s free for you to look as much as you want. More than you can during the day. A little secret thing just for your own heart’s keeping.

…Best friends shouldn’t want to stare at each other like this, you think with an ache.

It’s late. You can’t sleep. Lying down has provided nothing but racing thoughts you can’t quiet. Things to do tomorrow. Things to say when you see someone. Things to write down if you can hold them until the morning. Things, things, things. So many things in your head, ten thousand little voices like little snowflakes in your skull. Each small, powerless; but together, a force too mighty to outrun.

And Donnie is sleeping. Normally he’s awake. Fiddling, poking, prodding, studying, twisting, cracking, bending. Available to draw you into sleep. Always soothing, petting your hair, cooing at you until you drift off at last to the dulcet sounds of his low rumbles.

But not tonight. Tonight he sleeps, pretty in his sheets even as he’s all sprawled out and drooling. Cute. He’s cute. He’s cute and close enough to touch but so, so far away that you know you never will. Not like that. Not like that.

It’s late. You can’t sleep.

Slowly, not wanting to wake him, infuriated with yourself just at the thought that you’d risked it by lingering as long as you have, you peel away from his door frame and sneak into the living room. The couch greets you again. Inviting, soft. It smells like turtle ass. Popcorn. Movie night. It smells like family, like home. Scratchy beneath your cheek. You’ve been meaning to get them some new pillows. The way Mikey had laughed so hard he’d snorted his drink. Leo’s squawk when it got all over him. The weight of Donnie’s arm on your shoulder when he’d leaned on you while laughing until he got the hiccups. His cologne, new, smells nice. You should tell him tomorrow.

(You can’t tell him. There’s no way for a best friend to look at the other with pupils shaped like hearts and be the same. You can’t tell him.)

Heavily, you sigh. It’s late. You can’t sleep.

You sit up. Get up off the couch. Stretch a little before exhaling and walking around a bit to try and work off some of this excess energy. The darkness of the living room isn’t so much, anymore, what with how your eyes have adjusted. You can see the pieces of the evening strewn about. A pizza box that Splinter’s going to find in the morning and yell at the lot of you for not throwing out. Raph’s teddy bear, leaning against the other couch where he’d been pretending he hadn’t been using it to hide his face in the scary parts. Mikey’s cup, half-full, forgotten in Leo’s panic to find paper towels. And—

—Donnie, standing in the doorway, bleary-eyed, arms folded.

“Why are you awake?” he asks, voice tumbling over your ears like rocks on a riverbed. Guilt strikes you like a blow. He’s exhausted. You’ve woken him up.

“I’m sorry,” you say as an answer, tangling your fingers in the shirt you’d borrowed out of his closet. The shirt you always borrow. The shirt that’s half yours, now.

Donnie’s quiet. You sink your teeth into your lower lip and hope he’ll shrug and go back to bed. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’s got enough sleep juice in him that he’ll drift right back off and forget this happened.

He doesn’t. “…Can’t sleep?”

The guilt burns your skin like sand in the wind. You smile and pretend. “I’ll be okay. Go back to bed, Don. You need it more than I do.”

He doesn’t.

“…Please?” you try again.

You’re met, instead, with a sigh. He rubs the back of his head where his mask would tie if he were wearing it. Lets his arm fall to his side—ah, except no. He’s holding out his hand, palm outstretched, inviting you to come close. When you don’t, his beak wrinkles. “Come here.”

You take a few steps closer, but don’t take his hand just yet. “What are you doing?”

“Just come here,” he says again, curling his fingers a few times in an imperious grabby command. You come closer. He opens his tired eyes in a squint, mouth dipped into a frown, and his gesture gets more demanding. “Come here.”

Stepping closer, closer, closer, finally you get within range. You realize he wants your hand the moment he loses patience with you, watching as he rolls his eyes and reaches out to encircle your wrist with strong fingers. They eclipse the bones there easily, tugging as he turns, pulling you out of the living room.

“Don—” you start to protest, but he stops you with a breath.

“Stubborn,” he accuses, though there’s no heat to the word. The scoff is thick on the back of your tongue—Donnie of all people calling you stubborn—but you don’t let it out, knowing it’ll be too-loud in the pitch night.

He pulls you into his room, the very room that had been such a sweet siren song to you earlier. He pulls you towards his bed. He pulls you in behind him when he settles in. He pulls you beneath his blanket. He pulls, pulls, pulls, until your chest is flush to his plastron and his arm is around your waist and his breath is in your face and your heart is in your throat.

It’s late. You’re not going to be able to sleep.

“…Go to sleep,” he says after a few seconds, doubtless able to feel the way your pulse is like a hummingbird against his skin.

“Sorry,” you say in lieu of—anything else. You don’t dare try to say another word, unsure of what exactly would tumble out instead. Perhaps a sweet poem about the texture of his skin against yours. Maybe a lament that he feels the need to tuck his thigh between yours so so so close to where you wake in a pool of sweat dreaming of his touch. Or possibly a whispered confession that tastes like lightning and blood and sugar all at the same time; that you want this but not this, you want this but more.

Gently, a forehead bonks against yours. Dark eyes open and meet yours, centimeters away. He studies you, and you watch the gears turn. More slowly than usual, lethargic even, because of his slumber.

“You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs. Dumbly, you nod. “Need to talk about it?”

“…Yeah,” you admit, then, “…but I won’t.”

He doesn’t like that. A frown mars his beautiful, beautiful face.

“Why?”

You swallow the incredulous laugh, the kaleidoscope of responses. They’re all irrelevant, impossible to share, save for one. “You should sleep.”

Donnie’s hand tightens, fingers curling in his—your—shirt in the small of your back. “So should you.”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“…I don’t understand.” The confession, rare, makes you sigh.

“…I don’t either,” you tell him. And you don’t. Why did you have to feel this way for him? Why couldn’t it be someone easier that stole your heart? Why does it have to be the one person you can’t stand to lose? Why does he have to be so comfortable touching you like this and making it hurt even worse? Why can’t you stop feeling this way?

Why can’t you sleep? Why can’t you sleep?

His fingers unfurl from your shirt. His hand dips beneath the hem, finding the skin of your back. Slow shivers spread like little earthquakes as he strokes along your spine, tectonic caresses that ripple and destroy. It's familiar enough a touch that you don't stop him; unfamiliar enough that it rends you inside out.

Donnie leans in. Ghosts his lips along your jaw. It’s not a kiss; you’re just friends, after all. But it’s a sweet caress that feels good, all the way to where he lingers at your ear, whispering there, quivering at the touch that's too close to something else to be fair. “Close your eyes.”

You have one rule: listen to Donatello. So you do; you close your eyes, let his nails drag down your back, let his mouth press warm into your pulse, let his chest rumble with churrs that fill the night air with something akin to a lullaby. His legs curl around yours, mixing, confusing, making the separation of you disappear.

It’s… maddening. You hate this. You love him. You love him so much. You hate that he can do this so easily.

“Shhh,” comes the gentle coo against your skin, like he can tell you’re pulling away from his intent. You obey that, too. Donnie says to be quiet, so you quiet. Thoughts, movements, words; all of them fall away at his beckoning. “Just like that. Good.”

Good, you think, feeling a little fuzzy. It feels good to be good for him. God. You’d be so good for him—but no. None of that, now. Not when you can pretend that these little presses of his lips are kisses. That the thickness of his thigh pressed to your shorts means something. That his hand scratching lines in your skin is something meant to claim as much as it is to calm.

“Making me work for it tonight,” you hear him mumble, half-conscious of the words, not sure if they’re real or part of a dream he’s built for you. “Good job, sweetheart. Just like that.”

More brushes of his mouth. A slow glide of tongue. A lovely dream, you think, finally letting your muscles go slack. A dream of a Donatello who would hold you like this, talk to you like this. A Donatello who is more than just your best friend.

It’s late. Finally, warm and held and pulled into a sweet dream, finally, you sleep.

#me slurring with a voice thick with sleep: two best friends that are in love but too close to tell and so they dance like leaves in the wind #forever brushing close. darting about like little butterflies. gossamer wings catching the light and enchanting one another w each breath #but too close. too close. you can't see the scope of a painting when it's the single strokes that catch your eye.#.....................it's almost four in the morning. im sure there are errors but i shan't be fixing them now. have it as it comes #tmnt #rise #donatello/reader #my fic #rating: t

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estrellami-1 · 8 months

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

Eddie frowns. “Do you know why you were brought back?”

Steve shrugs. “Kinda. I know we knew what we were doing, when we were, but best I can figure, coming back in time messed with our memories and made them really hazy for a bit. It’s clearing up now, and I’m remembering more. Basically El found a way to send us back to make this all right from the beginning.”

Eddie nods, then seemingly changes the subject. “So Robin said you know? About her?”

Steve’s brows furrow in thought, then smooth out. “Oh! Yeah. She did.”

Eddie nods. “She knows, but… do you?”

“About?”

Eddie fidgets. “Me.”

Steve takes a second. “I didn’t know for sure, but I had an idea.”

Eddie nods. “So, you and I weren’t ever… we…”

“No,” Steve murmurs, then shrugs. “Maybe, if we had more time. And I know this probably sounds really weird to you, considering we officially met, like, two days ago, but…” Steve shrugs. “I can… I can lay off. If you want. If it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Honestly? I don’t think I’m going to process any of this until tomorrow at the earliest.”

Steve chuckles. “Fair enough. Just… let me know, yeah?”

Eddie nods, and with that they fall silent for a little while longer.

Eddie’s the one to break the silence. “The tape you gave me. Have you listened to it?”

Steve smiles. “Once or twice. I didn’t get to hear you play, but Dustin told me it was the most metal concert ever.”

Eddie chuckles. “Are you hoping for a do-over this time? Hoping to hear me play?”

“And if I was?”

Eddie sobers. “Then I guess I’ll just have to play it for you.”

Steve smiles. “I’d like that.”

They fall silent for a little bit longer until Steve sighs. “I feel like I owe you an apology. You didn’t ask for any of this. For my feelings or to be dragged into this or-”

“Hey,” Eddie says, stopping him in his tracks with a soft hand to his arm. “I asked a question. I wanted honesty, and I got it. Admittedly I got a little more than that, what with fuckin’ Mordor,” he gestures around, and Steve chuckles. “But you gave me honesty. That’s it. You didn’t push me to accept it or reciprocate anything. You didn’t even push me for a reaction. Did your answer surprise me?” He chuckles, shakes his head. “Man, I’m not convinced I’m not still dreaming. Maybe I fuckin’ drove the van into a pole on the way to school and now this is a very weird coma-dream and I’m in the hospital. I don’t fuckin’ know, man.”

Steve frowns. “Do people in comas dream?”

“I- what?” Eddie asks, then considers the question. “I- I don’t know. They do, right? They’re just asleep, I thought?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not like you dream every night, right? Maybe comas are always on those nights. Or days. Or whatever.”

Eddie blinks at him, then slowly smiles. “Anyone ever tell you you’re weird as shit, man?”

Steve laughs. “Only all the time.”

His smile falls as he looks out at the landscape. “We should keep moving. We’ve been out in the open for a while.”

Eddie hums. “How far did the squirts say?”

Steve sighs. “They didn’t, just said to keep going this way until El tells us to turn.”

Suddenly, a shadow flits over his face. He freezes and looks up, then curses quietly and grabs for Eddie’s arm, stilling him.

“What the fuck is that?” Eddie hisses.

“Demobat.”

“Shit.” Eddie takes a shaky breath. “If i shoot it, will the gun scare off the others or bring them to investigate?”

Steve sets his jaw, mouth a thin line. “Only one way to find out.”

Eddie cocks the gun. “Shoot and run like hell?”

Steve nods, and Eddie smiles grimly before lining up the sights, taking a deep breath, and pulling the trigger.

The gun fires.

The bat falls to the ground.

Steve and Eddie run.

Eddie almost falls once, trying to run and carry the gun, and Steve grabs his hand, pulling him along, forgetting their hands are joined until the walkie crackles to life again and Mike’s voice comes through. “Turn left,” he says, and Eddie’s brow furrows.

“We’re getting farther from the lake.”

Steve relays the information, and they pause, catching their breath while they wait for a reply. “El says he’s not near the lake.”

Steve and Eddie look at each other, then shrug. “Alright,” Steve says. “How long?”

“She says you’ll know,” comes the cryptic answer.

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#stranger things #if I should stay #steve harrington #eddie munson #eventual steddie #slow burn #fix it fic #time travel #time travel fic #ngl i definitely forgot today was the day to post until like. just now #next up they find will!#…maybe #ngl i definitely forgot what I wrote #starambles

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alaskasmonsters · 1 year

Note

Ahhh happy 1k and congrats!! Your prompt event looks so fun hehe, thank you for hosting! Could I request Suna + “How much did you drink?”

𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖍 𝖉𝖎𝖉 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖐? (suna rintarou)

pairing: suna rintarou x gn!reader

content: phone calls, drunk reader, flirting, drunk confessions of sorts

a/n: aww thank you anon ❤️🙏 i love writing drunk people because i can make them be so silly bshshsj 🤭 i hope you enjoy this!!! <33

☁️ 1k follower event

“Fuck. Do you know how late it is?”

You giggled at the sound of the familiar voice sounding through your phone. You ignored his cursing and his question because truth was, no you didn’t know how late it was. Why did that even matter?

“It’s you!” You said instead, more excited giggles bubbling out of your mouth.

There was silence on the other end after this and you frowned, quickly checking your phone screen to see if Suna had actually hung up on you. That would be so mean!

“Yes, it’s me…” Suna replied finally and you hummed happily.

He sounded so dreamy with his voice all…low? In a tired way…?Ho..hoarse! Yes, his voice was hoarse.

You nodded at yourself, patting your shoulder for being so smart. Until the ground decided to do something very rude and tilted to the side enough to make you stumble.

You swayed a little until you were able to find your balance again.

“You okay there?”

You scrunched your face together, eyes returning to your phone.

“Suna! What are you doing in my phone? That’s so silly!” You called out, grasping your phone tighter before dissolving into more laughter.

The boy let out a sigh at your question and you heard rustling in the background.

“How much did you drink?”

You smiled, looking around you for a place to sit down. The world was kind of shaky.

“Just a little,” you admitted, plopping down on a bench nearby. “I miss you. Come here.”

“We saw each other a few hours ago.” Suna reminded you but you heard the smile in his voice.

“But you smell good!”

No reply. The rustling stopped. You ignored this in favour to keep gushing, thoughts filled with the pretty boy.

“And your eyes are pretty! I miss your eyes. Bring them with you.”

A soft laugh sounded through the line.

“You want me…to bring my eyes with me?”

“Yes! If you come without them I might cry! And then you’ll have to kiss my tears away…” You tilted your head thoughtfully and a goofy smile grew on your face “You should kiss me anyways.”

He hummed. “Maybe I will if you ask nicely.”

You cheered.

“After you sober up.”

You deflated again, pouting. Rude!

“But I like you so much!”

There was a pause and you waited patiently for Suna to reply. Why did he let you wait so much today? He was so rude sometimes. But in a cute way. And his eyelashes were so long.

“Just tell me where you are right now. I’ll pick you up and bring my eyes, I guess.”

You sat up, smiling widely. “You will? Promise?”

“Of course, idiot.”

“You’d be such a good boyfriend, you know?”

“I know.”

“You should be my boyfriend.”

“We’ll talk about that later.”

You nodded, feeling satisfied with that. That was basically a yes. He must think you were being so smooth and cool right now. Maybe he was blushing on the other end of the line.

You giggled, almost missing that Suna was asking for your location again. You sent it to him, with just some struggle. Barely worth mentioning, Suna was definitely over-exaggerating when he called you “so hammered”. You were just a little tipsy.

“I’ll be there in a few,” Suna told you, the sound of a car door being opened and closed audible.

You grinned. “See you then, babe!”

The boy didn’t respond immediately. You huffed.

“Call me a cute pet name!”

He sighed. “You’ll kill me tomorrow.”

“Pretty please.” You begged, making your cutest puppy eyes at your phone screen, forgetting for a moment he couldn’t see you right now. “I look so cute right now by the way! You wouldn’t be able to tell me no.”

“Fine.” He gave up, voice sounding amused now, “See you soon, angel face.”

You beamed, making a happy sound, missing completely that Suna had hung up.

But you didn’t mind. You’d just wait there until he came. And maybe you could convince him to keep calling you pet names for the rest of the night…or maybe even longer.

#suna fluff #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x reader #suna x y/n #suna x reader #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro drabbles #haikyuu oneshot #☁️ — maze’s 1k follower event

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moonlightspencie · 1 year

Note

prompt for a drabble where boyfriend!spencer forgets readers birthday and maybe a little angsty idk u tell me 💞

hehehe yes

pairing: spencer reid x reader

me being self-indulgent by letting the reader hold a grudge a little bit

—————

You sighed, still waiting by the phone. It felt pathetic, really, waiting around for someone to call. Even a message would be welcomed at this point. Anything would be better than sitting alone on your birthday waiting around for someone to care.

Well, waiting for a specific someone to care.

You’d already gotten calls from family and friends. You’d even turned down an invitation to go party with some girl friends since Spencer had promised months ago that he’d be home to make your birthday special.

Now it was past seven at night and you were left wondering.

You got up from your seat, feeling sadder and more annoyed as time dragged on, and decided maybe a bath and glass of wine wouldn’t be too shabby of a celebration if you had to be celebrating alone. You grabbed your favorite bottle from the kitchen, along with a glass, and headed for your bathroom.

You sat in the tub for a while, soaking in the warmth of the water and the smells of the soap you’d dumped in by the gallon to make bubbles. Your bottle of wine was half-empty by the time you’d finally heard the front door open and shut, Spencer’s voice muffled from the other side.

“Honey?” he called, footsteps getting nearer. “Hon, are you in bathroom?”

“Yeah,” you said, tone short and clipped.

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

He paused. “Is everything okay? I tried calling a few times on my way home.”

You sighed, annoyed. “Just leave me alone, Spencer. I’m trying to enjoy my night.”

“Did I do something?”

You didn’t answer, irritated that he’d even ask. He waited another moment before trying again.

“I don’t know what to do if you don’t tell me,” he pleaded.

“Go check a calendar.”

You huffed another sigh, closing your eyes and trying to enjoy what felt like your last moments of peace for the night. You heard a quiet ‘oh’ from the other side of the door, then a knock.

“Please let me in,” he said, voice still quiet. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, then got up out of the bath and wrapped yourself in a towel. You pulled open the door, immediately lifting a hand to keep him from trying to hug you.

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t realize,” he said, eyes pleading for mercy.

“What happened to the eidetic memory?”

You pushed past him and walked into the bedroom, dropping the towel and throwing on some baggy pajamas. He followed behind, silently waiting until you were ready to talk. He sat on the bed, reaching out a hand to you. You stayed planted in front of him.

“I told friends I couldn’t hang out with them today because my wonderful boyfriend promised months ago he’d make my birthday special,” you said, finally letting yourself feel sad rather than angry.

“Baby,” he muttered, standing.

You allowed it when he wrapped his arms around you, rubbing up and down your back.

“I’m really disappointed, Spence.”

He nodded. “I know. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have forgotten.”

“You didn’t even say it in a text or a call or anything.”

“Would you be mad if I said ‘happy birthday’ now?”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

“I’d be pissed.”

“Good thing I asked, then,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You looked up at him.

“I think I need to stay mad right now.”

“Can I still hold you while you’re mad?”

You nodded.

“Okay,” he said, “Let’s get you into bed and you can be mad at me all night and all day if you need to.”

“What about the day after tomorrow?”

“That day, too.” He smiled softly. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I know.”

check out the drabble masterlist | send requests for more

#spencer reid #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic

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its-time-to-write · 10 months

Note

Hi! I requested the last Jamie tartt/Kent!Sister that’s not phoebes mom.

Do you think you could another one with phoebe and Roy spending the day with them and phoebe making Roy jealous of how she adores Jamie? And reader just getting baby fever,and Roy figuring out she is and freaking out. Lol sorry it’s a lot! Thanks and love ur writing✨💜

Your wish is my command! I’m trying to get out of my writer’s block, so hopefully I’ll have more fics out tomorrow. We’ll see!

would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

Molly is at work. Again. Which means you’re watching Phoebe with your brother, Roy. You point out that Roy doesn’t technically have to be here, but Phoebe vehemently protests that he does.

“Who will be the princess?” she asks, and you decide not to tell her that you wouldn’t mind. You sneak photos of Roy in the tiara to send to Jamie under the express condition that he never show anyone else. Jamie tells you that seeing the photo is enough for him.

Jamie is not scared of Roy, by the way. Sure, he’s dating the youngest Kent sibling and sure, Roy hates his guts, but it’s all a show, innit?

At least, that’s what Molly tells you both when you’re sitting at her kitchen table, distraught at 11pm.

But regardless of Roy’s feelings, he’s going to have to get over it because you love Jamie and he’s here to stay and that’s that. You’re actually meeting him at the park (per Phoebe’s request) and then the four of you are headed to lunch and a movie.

Jamie’s waiting on a bench by the time you make it to the park, and he lights up at the sight of you. He stands to greet you, but is intercepted by a running Phoebe. He puts his footballer reflexes to good use as he swings her high into the air as you shake your head grinning, and Roy just shakes his head.

You watch Jamie put Phoebe back on the ground and begin some elaborate secret handshake and, like lightning, you’re struck with a feeling of oh shit.

“Oh shit,” you breathe aloud.

Roy takes a sideways glance at you and his frown deepens. “No,” he says, but you’re not listening.

Because all you can think about is Jamie swinging your own kid into the air, or holding a tiny baby, or teaching a toddler how to kick a football.

In fact, it’s all you can think about the entire time you’re out. You forget to breathe as he teases Phoebe about her lunch order and Roy has to elbow you and say, “For fuck’s sake.”

Phoebe is holding Jamie’s hand and skipping on the way to the movie while you and Roy walk a ways behind them. His knee’s hurting him a little bit, so you’ve linked your arm around his.

“Just like when we were kids, huh Roy-o?” you grin.

Roy snorts. “Don’t really remember us walking fucking hand-in-hand, unless it was me dragging you away from Molly and her fucking marshmallow shooter.”

You shudder. “You know she used to lick them so they’d stick to us, right?”

Roy grimaces. “And you want a kid with marshmallow-licking genes with fucking Tartt? He’s practically a fucking child himself.”

You open your mouth to protest but Roy shakes his head.

“Don’t fucking argue with me, I see how you fucking look at him when he’s with Phoebe. Can practically hear the fucking wedding bells.”

You check to see if Jamie’s looking (he isn’t) then you punch Roy in the arm. “Fuck off, Roy. You love being an uncle. And Molly keeps asking when me and Jamie are going to take another step in our relationship, and maybe this is it. I mean sure, he’s a footballer and like probably the best one Richmond has ever seen-” Roy interjects with an oi- “and generally footballers don’t even want to settle down, but he’s dating me, and sure, it’s probably a little to fuel his obsession with you, I mean come on, our family has great eyebrows so it’s not a surprise that Jamie and I are together and fucking hell, Roy, he’d be such a great dad.”

Roy says, “You talked to fucking Molly about this?” like he’s been betrayed by his best friend.

You shrug with the one arm that isn’t held in his. “We all grew up in the same home and you didn’t realize that Molls is fucking nosy? Come on, Roy.”

Roy says, “Fucking hell,” and then you’re at the movie theater and unable to continue talking.

—

It is fucking late and you’re back at Jamie’s house. It’s just you two, and you’re in the kitchen with the dim lights on. You stayed at Molly’s after the movie while Roy cooked dinner, then stayed till she got back from the hospital. You and Jamie both decided you weren’t tired, which is why you’re on the floor of the kitchen eating out of a tub of ice cream.

You’ve both made a considerable dent when you put your spoon down and say, “Jamie.”

“Hm?” he asks, mouth full of mint chip.

“Do you-” you hesitate. “Do you ever think about where this is going?”

Jamie swallows and is silent, so you continue talking.

“I mean, obviously we don’t have to talk about it, I know that it’s a lot and we’re kind of just messing around, right? And with football and all that you don’t really have the whole settling-down kind of lifestyle, and anyway if you do it should probably be with a model or a pop star, especially since you’ve got the whole Beckham look going on right now.”

Jamie rolls his eyes and laughs. “That’s what you think? I’ve got the girl of my dreams and you think I’d dump you for a fucking model?”

You shrug without meeting his eyes.

“Oi,” Jamie says softly. “Is that really what you think? Or is this about something else?” He nudges your shoulder with his.

You sigh and turn to face him. “Look, I’ll tell you, but don’t fucking laugh or I’ll get Roy to mess you up.”

Jamie nods.

“I have baby fever.”

Jamie breaks into a grin and despite yourself, you mirror it.

“Don’t fucking laugh!” you protest, “It’s a real thing! And I have it so fucking bad, that all I could think about today is how much I wanted to go home and fuck you. I have no idea what we even did today. And Molly is always on me about giving Pheebs a cousin but I think it would actually kill Roy if I had a kid, because he still thinks of me as his baby sister even though I’m a literal adult.”

Jamie is shaking with poorly suppressed laughter and you shove him with your shoulder. “Why are you laughing, Jamie?” you giggle. “This is a real issue!”

Jamie is practically wheezing, doubled over and holding his sides.

“Babe,” he manages to get out, “usually I’m the one who’s thinking about fucking you all the time. It’s fucking hilarious that it was you. Now you know what it’s like.”

Good lord, this boy.

“And,” he continues, starting to wind down, “I didn’t realize Molly was talking to ya. Would’ve said something sooner if I knew.” He takes the ice cream out of your hands and pulls you onto his lap. You’re facing him, straddling his thighs. He places one hand on your cheek and the other on the back of your neck. “Love,” he says, “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a fucking lot, actually. I want all that shit with you, a wedding, kids, whatever. I ain’t ever letting you go.”

You smile and thread your fingers through his hair. “Oh yeah?” you ask. “What else have you thought about?”

Jamie’s eyes darken and his tongue darts between his teeth. “Well,” he says, hands sliding from your neck to your waist and under your shirt, “though about all the work it takes to make a baby.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, except it comes out as a gasp because his hands are tracing soft patterns on your skin and you’re barely keeping yourself together, but you manage to breathe out a, “What else?”

Jamie smirks. “Well babe, pretty sure we’d have to be somewhere other than the floor to get the whole experience.”

You’re on your feet in a flash and pulling Jamie up the stairs to the bedroom. You’re good with this type of future planning.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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qkopi · 10 months

Note

I hope this doesn't sound weird but can you do hcs about twin!miles both liking the same girl then they find out she has a twin sister 😭

omg anon… u literally had me gagged w this idea like..😧😨😏🤭😜SHOW UR SELF‼️😭

and honestly i didn’t know whether you wanted to be with miles or milo, so i js took it in my hands and decided milo would be my man🥰 but it can go both ways so🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

════════════════════════

pairings: milo x reader, twin! sister x miles / miles x reader, twin! sister x milo

cw: none

a/n: this can honestly go both ways, either you date miles or milo idc🤷🏻‍♀️

════════════════════════

by the way t/n means twin’s name

milo wouldnt take an interest in you at first since he didn’t really like socializing in class

he would just do his assignments and listen to his music

but as the weeks went by,

he would catch himself staring at you

taking a glance at your beauty marks (basically a mole on your nose, on your cheek, or above your lip)

or looking at the bracelet you wore everyday

mans would be sketching your side profile, not even noticing it until the end of class

at home, him and miles would be talking about their day at school and suddenly they got into the topic of girls

“dude there’s girl in my class and she’s new to visions, she’s amazing, she’s funny and really pretty and-”

miles kept on rambling and rambling about the girl as milo kept scrolling on his phone but still listening to his brother

“look, here’s a pic”

miles took out his phone and went on instagram to show milo who he was talking about

it was you.

milo quickly took miles’ phone and started scrolling through

you only had 1 post and a highlight of yourself

“woah, watch it, ‘Lo!”

miles took back his phone, getting worried that milo may accidentally like something from a long time ago

“my fault..” milo seemed embarrassed by what he just did.

“what you think she’s pretty too?” miles grinned, but inside he was worried, he didn’t want to like the same girl as his twin.

“no, she just.. has unique features, that’s all.” milo muttered, feeling a pit of jealousy in his stomach.

miles clearly knew he was lying but he just shrugged it off so there wouldn’t be an argument between the two of them

the past few days, milo had been trying talking to you in class but fails miserably since he didn’t know how to approach you

this was also part of the reason why milo got jealous, miles was always so nice and outgoing with everybody that he had no problem to have a simple convo with anyone

today again, milo tried talking to you but you rushed off to your class, not giving him enough time to say anything

“tomorrow, i’ll talk to her.. eventually..” milo mumbled under his breath as he sighed.

as milo was going to his next class, he then saw you, again, walking with a few friends.

“hey, miles. when did you get braids?” you asked, but it wasn’t you, it was your twin sister, t/n, but milo didn’t know that.

“uh, i’m not miles.. i’m his twin, milo.” milo responded, feeling a bit nervous.

“oh, sorry about that.. i’ll make sure to take note of that!” t/n said as she went back to her friends.

meanwhile, milo was screaming of joy internally as he went to his class. he actually got to talk to you without hesitating or stuttering over his words.

though the next day, didn’t go so well..

when milo tried talking to you, you greeted him with an awkward look since this was the first time someone talked to you in the certain class.

“hey..” milo sat next to you, taking you by a surprise.

“uhh… hi?” you said questionably, never interacting with this guy before.

meanwhile this made milo feel weird. did you forget him already? did you think he was miles again? or maybe you had already took an interest miles and thought talking to milo would’ve been weird?

yea this boy was panicking.

there, milo sat through a painfully embarrassing situation as he tried his best not to even spare you a glance anymore.

at the end of class, he saw you packing up and begin to leave until he took your wrist.

“look, t/n, i’m sorry if i weirded you out-”

“t/n? oh, i think you confused me with my twin. did you two talk yesterday?” you asked.

“yeah, actually she thought i was my twin brother, miles, but we have different hair so..” milo trailed off as he realized he was rambling.

“i’m milo.” he finally said with a sigh, wanting to get it out of his system.

“y/n.” you gave him a smile.

as you two were talking in the halls, the two of you also met your siblings.

“y/n!!” your twin ran up to you and gave you a hug.

“miles, this is my twin sister, y/n and yes, i know we look exactly alike but don’t worry, you can tell us apart just by our bracelets!” t/n showed her wrist, she had a gold bracelet meanwhile you had a silver one.

“this is..” miles didn’t have any words to describe it as he and milo looked at the two of you.

you and your sister looked exactly alike, same hair length, same facial features, same height and it didn’t help when you guys had to wear uniforms at visions.

“so this is why you were so shocked when i showed you a picture of t/n..” miles realized, giving milo a knowing smirk.

“what’s he talking about?” you asked, before miles could answer milo had already put his hand around miles’ mouth.

“well, it was cool meeting you two, uh, me and miles are gonna be late for class, uh, bye!” milo grabbed his brother as they rushed off.

“i think he’s into you.” your twin teased once the boys were fully gone.

“shut up..” you chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully as the two of you headed to your next class.

“uh-huh, just know miles is mine.” she put up a proud smile.

“didn’t want him anyways.” you responded.

then, miles and t/n got together first, as you and milo just took your time and let everything go slow

on dates, milo would always take you out shopping and getting some food after

miles and t/n would go out doing fun things together like going to the amusement park or play at the arcade

sometimes, all of you would go on a double date and do the same things together

at the amusement park, miles and milo would pictures of the both of you with the huge stuffed animal they won for you

both miles and milo would look at the picture and suddenly argue

“shes so cute..” “nah, mines way prettier”

“i-“ “well.. he didn’t lie.”

and when you two met their parents, clearly, t/n warmed up to them real quick, being respectful and outgoing at the same time but that didn’t stop them from wanting to get to know you too.

“yes, and what about you, y/n? is my milo giving you a hard time?” “mamá..” “no mrs morales, he’s really a great person to be with.”

oml there was also this one time where miles and milo invited you and t/n over to just chill at their place

but when you got there, milo was shocked.

“mami..” “what? is it bad?”

you had cut your hair, it was short, compared to t/n’s, who still had her long hair

“no.. you look.. so beautiful..”

you were turning hella red, not expecting milo to be that straightforward

meanwhile t/n was gushing to miles and pretending to fake cry.

“they’re so cute..” “mi vida, that’s literally us…” “why can’t i be treated like that?” “WHAT?”

clearly, t/n was just joking as she loved miles with all her heart

miles literally followed her everywhere, drops her off to class not caring if he’s late, sketched her multiple times in his notebook whenever he was bored, and more😻

™︎ qkopi | tumblr

#miles morales x reader #miles morales #miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles x y/n #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #atsv miles #atsv x reader #earth 42 miles x reader

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joshlmbrt · 2 months

Note

single!dad Steve meeting his kids teacher and finding himself 😍😍 with them

ugh, i love dad requests, thank you for sending when i begged someone too. this is very much appreciated!! w; slightly flustered stevie & short :( i’m sorry!

he’s late.

he’s late and florence is going to ‘kill him dead’ - as she puts it. the door is flung open and he winces when flo and you peek up at him.

florence glares at him with honey eyes. “you’re late, daddy.”

“i’m sorry, flo. uncle eds and auntie robs needed a…” he pauses when you stand, a pretty sight and an amused smile spread over your face. “i… uh- they needed a ride.”

florence hums. “i’ll let it slide this time.”

his eyes dart towards his firecracker of a daughter, eyes narrowing. “thank you for being so understanding, flo.”

she hums and looks up at you. “he has an attitude problem.”

“i do not!” his voice cracks. your brows lift, turning your head towards him. he rubs at the back of his neck and his cheeks flush as he shakes his head. “i don’t.” he looks at you.

you giggle softly and help florence pack up her drawings that consisted of glittery stickers. oh, how fun, steve thinks momentarily.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, florence!” you smile as she gives you a hug.

“i’m sorry again,” steve says quickly. you look over at him and wave your hand in a dismissive manner, walking towards him. “truly. i didn’t realize-“

“hey, it’s okay! i promise. she’s a little joy to have in class. i don’t mind.” you smile softly.

“i could make it up to you.” steve blurts.

your brow lifts and your head tilts. “oh?”

“coffee. uh, do you like coffee?”

“oh, i love it. i like tea as well.” you grin, hands connected behind your back as you rock on your heels.

he chuckles a bit and nods. “maybe… we could meet up at a cafe or something… if you wanted, of course.”

you hum softly, reaching behind him as you grab a pen from the cup on the desk. “can i see your hand?”

he immediately holds out his hands towards you and it almost makes you laugh. your fingers hold his fingers, writing your number on his palm. his fingers twitch from the feeling.

you pull away. “don’t forget to call.”

“oh… yeah, no. totally.” he nods, turning. he stumbles over a chair that a kid had left out. you cover your mouth when florence looks at him with a lifted brow.

once out into the hallway, he grabs her hand. “desperate.” she says simply.

his brows lift and he looks down at her. “what?”

“daddy, you’re desperate.”

he narrows his brows. “i am n- i am not arguing with a second grader.”

#dad!steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #joe keery x reader #cherry writes ✿

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rainstops · 5 months

Text

found colors for unspoken feelings

childe x gn!artist!reader warnings: fights, scars, small mentions of blood

summary: childe got into a fight with you over something you loved doing. he immediately regret the words he said, but even worse than that, he brought back an old habit of yours which he fought so hard to get rid off

a/n: eurgh this took me so long for no reason...

wc: 2.9k

you had these scars on your hands, and you hated them. no one knew where they came from except for your boyfriend, childe. he has caressed your hands so many times, and told you before, that he doesn't mind the crescent shaped marks on your hand.

he knew you used to press your nails into your palm so hard, that they started to bleed. you’re an artist, and always wanted to do something with your talent, yet your parents were more than just unsupportive of your dreams. they started suggesting that you put your free time in something other than your ‘little doodles’.

yet their words grew harsher and harsher over the years you lived.

whenever you were once again told that you're useless, and that your paintings don't look any different from those compared to a five year old, your hands would start bleeding again.

maybe you would've given it all up, if it wasn't for your, at that time, friend childe. he was your rock, your support in all of this.

how many times had you texted him late in the evening and asked him if you could stay over at his place? how many times had he cleaned out the wounds on your palms?

He helped you move out of your parents house, into your current shared apartment, and helped you be comfortable drawing again.

yet even with all of his support, you grew protective of your work. you barely told anyone about what you did, and was afraid of taking criticism.

one person you were not afraid of though. you were never too afraid to ask childe for his opinion on your recent piece. you were never too afraid to turn around the canvas, and show him what you had done with your time.

and everytime again, he was proud of you. he peppered your face with kisses, and told you what he especially liked.

and over the years, even your so much hated scars started to fade.

apparently his job has started to take a lot more from his energy though.

he never said that, but you just assume that that is the reason for his lack of response to your proudly painted canvas.

nowadays you never got more from him, other than a simple ‘i like it’, or even just a hum of approval.

and it got you thinking, if you would stop showing him what you had done, would he care enough to ask?

so that's what you did.

the next day when he came home from work, you didn't ask if you could show him what you had painted. you simply greeted him with a warm dinner, and a kiss on the lips. you hadn't mentioned your art for the whole day.

but still, while lying in bed, your thoughts told you that he was probably just exhausted, and that he might have forgotten, but tomorrow he will surely ask you about it!

he never asked you about anything.

was he really that forgetful? a week had passed, and you just wanted to show him one piece, that took you significantly long.

“babe, i have something to show you!”, the excitement not fading even though childe had forgotten what you spent the majority of your time with.

“sure what is it?”, your boyfriend didn't even look up from his dinner, but that was okay! he was probably just really hungry.

“i’ll get it!”

you quickly ran to your room, and grabbed the beautifully painted canvas.

yet childes reaction was as little as the hope you had left for any sign that you two were not drifting apart.

“oh, that's cool babe”

thats cool?

you felt your heart clench, when you realized that's all he had to say. still, you weren't ready to give up yet.

“what do you like about it?”, what were you even trying.

childe took another look at the painting, and then at you.

“i don't know, it looks pretty though”, you quietly looked away.

“okay, thanks for your feedback, I’ll be heading to sleep now”, you smiled, but the hole in your heart was growing by the second. “alright good night babe”

the bed felt cold. you hugged your own body, trying to keep yourself warm, yet the cold sheets you were lying between made you shiver.

you could no longer blame childes dismissive act on his work, and him being so exhausted. what could have changed your boyfriend so much, that he was no longer the person that made you feel so safe? a tear rolled down your cheek, onto your pillow.

when you woke up that morning, childe was not there. you assumed he must have headed to work earlier than usually.

you forced yourself out of bed, ignoring how heavy your body felt on your legs. that was when a specific thought came to mind. maybe you should start showing your boyfriend your drawings without him having to ask. and maybe, just maybe, he would start being excited to see them again.

you don't remember what made you come to this conclusion. maybe desperation for the love you used to feel everyday, which had now left your life as quick as it had appeared.

so that's what you did. everyday you had proudly presented your boyfriend your drawings which you had put minute after minute and hour after hour of your days into. longing for his love and attention back you were ready to do anything.

probably if you had told anyone how you felt, and what you were doing, they would have called you desperate.

but no one could expect from you to give up the love that had saved you over and over again. no one could expect that you would give up the only person who was there for you in your hardest and happiest times.

so youre not giving up yet.

even though childes lack of enthusiasm remained the same, you were glad he was at least not shaming you for your hobby like your parents used to. you don't know how you would react if he were to act that way, but it was childe you were talking about.

you were convinced he could never even act that way.

but how long could you still continue this? everyday where you presented your work to him, and he would just react with a disinterested ‘nice’, felt like a weakening punch in the gut.

this wasn’t working. maybe you should just talk to him about his lack of a reaction to your hobby and your work. the work which he used to love so much.

so maybe that was the right thing to do.

when he came home from that specific day at work, you had shown him a drawing which was especially big. you had put so much work into it, you barely took a break the whole day to make sure it was finished before he came home.

maybe you were going to get a bigger reaction out of him this time.

“looks great babe”

he didn’t even look at it.

what were you doing wrong?

“childe, you didn’t even look at it”, maybe you really needed to talk to him.

“huh?”, seriously? did he even care? has he never even listened to you?

“childe you don’t even care about my drawings like you used to, do you?”, suddenly he got up from his chair. and you put down your drawing, leaning it against the wall.

childe rubbed his face. “you know [name], I’m really tired, can we discuss this some other time?”, you had told yourself for so long that he was just tired, but was that even true?

“childe you’ve been tired for months now. don’t get me wrong, i cant even begin to imagine how exhausting your job must be, but I don’t even really feel like you acknowledge me, other than eating the food i cook for you”

you had to try really hard for this to not turn into an argument. emphasis on tried, because childe was not willing to listen to you. it felt like he was never going to be listening to you, and you needed to get that out of your system. maybe this wouldn't be the best time to tell him, but was it ever going to be the best time?

“i understand that you might be tired, but just tell me what happened? why are you being like this?”, your tone remained calm, yet your muscles tensed up.

“all i am asking of you is the attention that you used to give me. i understand that you can be tired when coming home from work, that's not something i'm denying, but-”

“look, [name], do you really want to know?”, his tone was a lot harsher than yours, and it made a shiver travel up your spine.

you took a second, but nodded and gave him a hum.

“you know that while i am going out to work, and let you stay here all day, all you do is paint and draw. you know that there are so many things that you could spend your time with, but instead you waste your day just holding a paintbrush all day”, childe words were absolutely taking you apart. wether that was his intention or not, that's what he had achieved.

when you two first moved into the apartment, you had told him that you would go find a job, but he insisted that you should stay home. if he had anything to say, or if he had wished for you to get a job, he could have said so, couldn't he?

“childe if you had wanted me to get a job, you could have said so. i would have started looking for someth-”

“you're missing the point! i am saying that you keep wasting all your time, and then expect me to praise you for it! your stupid drawings are just a huge waste of your days! every single day i come home and you remind me of how much you waste your time! do you seriously think that i could be proud of you for that?!”

maybe trying to confront him today wasn't such a good idea, yet this felt like it was a really long time coming.

when you blinked, you found little tears collected in the corners of your eyes. yet even when they fell childe didn't notice. he kept ranting on and on about things he had already said.

while he kept talking and talking, your nails had found your palms once again. an old habit you had wished to finally be rid off.

the memories came flooding back of your parents shouting at you for the same thing, your boyfriend was shouting at you right now. the same boyfriend that first safed you of the mental torture your parents put you through. the same boyfriend who would cut your nails for you, so the wounds wouldn't be so bad. the same boyfriend who had praised you for your talent.

the stupid thing about this was that childe isn't actually mad about you wasting your day. he wasn't even able to put an exact finger on it. you could blame it on him being exhausted from work, and needing to take out his exhaustion somewhere, or maybe he was mad about not spending enough time with you. maybe he was mad at himself for not giving you enough attention, but the hurtful things have been said, and there was nothing he could do to take them back.

when childe finally looked at you after ranting for a good minute, his heart dropped to his stomach and maybe even further.

there you were standing, sniffling, looking down at your feet while your nails were digging into the soft flesh of your palms. your face was wet from your tears, and your hand only reached up to wipe them away, and then to return into a tight fist.

“i understand, I hic i will draw less, and find better things to do”

childe often found himself wishing to be able to turn back the time, but never had he prayed so hard for being able to take back his words.

“w-wait, [name] i-”, childe felt like all the words and apologies he could have given you were knocked out of his brain in an instant, and he panicked when you wanted to walk past him to leave the room.

although the worst thing was that you were pressing your nails so hard into your palms again, to a point where you were bleeding from the amount of pressure you were releasing. childe felt as if he had been punched into the stomach. the habit of yours that he was fighting so hard to get rid off, had returned. it had returned because of him.

“[name] please i don't know why i said that, i was just- maybe i was just tired from work, although i cant blame it on that-”, childe frantically took your hands into his, yet your nails already had your blood on them.

childe felt like a world in front of his eyes fell apart. the bad habit of yours that he tried fighting for so long, was close to returning. he was the one who tore your scars back open, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“[name], [name] please- I didnt mean to say these things, please”, all childe could do was beg and repeat your name over and over as he felt his eyes water.

he frantically held your hands, and let you to a chair, to sit down. tears were still repeatedly staining your face, and childe had rushed off to get some bandages for your hands.

childe rushed back and almost fell down onto his knees in front of you.

“please just let me-”, childe proceeded to clean your wounds a little, and then bandage up your hand. while he was handling your hand, you didnt move or talk one bit. other than quiet sniffles, you just let childe do what he needed to do. in the mean time, your head hung low and your eyes havent stopped staring at that one spot on your leg.

you didnt know how to feel. how could you? the one person you believed you could turn to, whenever your parents were rude to you, has done the same thing you were so afraid of happening again. and why? because of stress at work? because he had a bad day?

“[name] i know youre mad, just please- please say anything”, childe pleaded with you.

“I’m not mad”, you replied and your voice broke. you werent even sure if that was true. you were more hurt than angry, but then again you were also just confused.

“its late… can i go to bed?”, why were you asking him?

“of course- anything you want, I’ll sleep on the couch for tonight”, you were both crying and overwhelmed by emotions.

you nodded and headed up the stairs to the room you and childe usually shared. a million thoughts flooded your mind, but for some reason your chest felt so empty.

the person you usually relied on when you felt this way, was now the cause of your feelings. who were you supposed to turn to?

then another thought filled your head. what if your parents were right all along? maybe you should have done anything else but waste your life painting stupid pictures.

you cried yourself to sleep that night.

and even after you woke up, you could feel the daggers that were sent through your heart.

you opened the door to your room. “childe?”, you called out, your voice being utterly shaky.

was he at work?

when you opened the door to your art room, you didnt expect childe to be sitting in the middle of your paintings. you couldnt read the expression which was resting on hsi face.

what childe hadnt realized was that these paintings were small pieces of your soul. every single one of the paintings were thoughts and feelings that you couldnt find the words for, so instead you found the colors for your unspoken feelings. childe has never wished for anything as much as he has wished that he paid more attention to you.

“childe…?”, your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and his head shot towards the door.

“oh- sorry i was just… well uh, do you need anything?”, childe stammered, getting up from his sitting position.

“i was just looking for you… why are you here?”, your voice remained quiet and shaky.

“i was just… looking at all your work that i had missed… and all the time… well uh- if you want me to leave ill go-”

“its… its okay i just wanted to see where you were” with those words you turned around, about to leave the room.

“wait-! [name] I… I’m sorry, I dont know what to say to let you know how bad i feel-”

“childe i know”, his face was met with the sight of a sad smile on your face.

“w-what can i do to make you feel better? I’ll do anything- please”

“I dont know, honestly…”, a shaky sigh escaped your lungs.

“please… know that i love you [name], more than anything”

“i… love you too”

part 2? reblogs are appreciated!

#rainstops #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #childe x reader #genshin childe #tartaglia #childe tartagalia #tartaglia x reader

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