#which makes me feel worse. but. it is what i do

[luveline]

oooh what about a lil blurb about bombshell r and spencer where it's the first time in their relationship that one of them is super sick and the other has to take care of them?? if you're feeling up for it ofc!! love u jade <333

ty for requesting<3<3 fem, 1k

“I’m sicker than a sick dog. I’m half cough.” 

Spencer frowns at his phone where it lays on speaker at the breakfast table. “You are? What kind of cough?” 

“It’s awful, I can’t tell you. You’ll stop loving me.” 

Spencer smiles even though he wants to grimace. He told you he loved you a few days ago, and you hadn’t said it back, but you certainly hadn’t stopped liking him. You’re more obsessed with him than before, he’d argue. It’s a great feeling, almost as good as an I love you in return would’ve been. 

(He doesn’t blame you for not saying it. You’ve been officially dating for less than a month. He shouldn’t have said it, only he’d been lying in your bed about to go to sleep with your hand in his and he’d never felt anything like it, not home but safe, not home but comfortable, and so so wanted.) 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Spencer says.

“I’m gonna order some soup I think. What are you gonna do today?” Your voice is thick like you can’t breathe through your nose, but still yours.

“I’m gonna put my shoes on and come see you, I guess.” 

“Yeah?”

It’s a no brainier. “What soup do you want, Y/N?” 

He says your name like a compliment. You laugh down the line, which turns into a cough, and a pained moan. “Any kind of soup, babe. You’re really gonna come and see me?” 

“Someone has to take care of you. Ideally me.” 

“Too right.” 

When Spencer gets to your apartment thirty rushed minutes later, you’re already worse. He knocks on your door and you answer with a hand covering your face, your breath audibly shallow. “I forgot that being sick makes you ugly.” 

Spencer takes your wrist in his hand kindly. “Nothing can make you ugly. Come on, let me see.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I!” 

You aren’t pretty, you’re stunning. You’re gorgeous. You’ve been the most beautiful woman Spencer’s ever seen since the moment he saw you, not just because of your looks, of which you take great care, but because of your heart, how kind you’d been to him and continue to be. Your confident personality has never once made you cruel. He couldn’t say the same for most people, so you could have snot running down your lips and a zit the size of Quantico on your forehead and he’d still think you were the most amazing thing he’d ever seen. 

“Come on,” he says again, “I know you’re still beautiful.” 

You let him pull your hand down, unveiling your puffy eyes and chapped nose. “I don’t know how I got sick so fast.” 

The tote bag he’d brought with him slips into his elbow and pulls down his sweater sleeve as he grabs your shoulder. “You said you looked ugly.” 

“I do!” 

“All you do is lie.” He gives you a small smile. Am I doing this flirting thing right? 

“I wanna kiss you so bad.”

Your audible heartbreak is convincing. “I’ll still kiss you.” His desperation is even more evident than yours. “I’d love to kiss you.” Even if it’s usually you who kisses him. 

You close your eyes and lean in for a kiss at the same time. Just one kiss, firm for a millisecond, no parting lips or tongue to be seen but just as good a kiss as any other. Spencer must’ve had about thirty of them now, yet a kiss from you never feels real. 

“I’ll look after you if you get sick,” you promise, pulling away. 

He was counting on it. He hates germs, hates being sick, but he loves you. Whatever happens is out of his hands. 

You seem a little unsteady on your feet, now Spencer’s looking at you. You’re wearing loose white pyjamas with blue flowers, and on your feet you have a pair of shoes somewhere between slippers and boots, brown fabric with fluffy white insides he’s seen you sporting on the jet from time to time when you’re at your most achingly tired. 

You look adorable and tipping. He eases out of his shoes, sliding the bag of tinned soup, crackers and about seventy dollars worth of cold medicine onto the sideboard so he can put his hand under your arm. 

“Let’s go back to bed,” he says, wrapping you in a supportive hug. 

“Forward,” you tease. 

You shouldn’t. Spencer thinks about intimacy with you and goes insanely pink everytime, though you’re far from new to one another. He especially doesn’t wanna think about it as you cross your room and flop down into bed with a tired sigh. “Come lay down?” 

“I’m wearing jeans.” 

“Did you sit down on the subway?” 

“No, I drove here.” 

“Come on, Spence. Your germs are fine.” You smile at the ceiling as he sits down at the top of your bed. “You drove here? You hate driving.” 

“It was quickest.” 

You drop your head into his lap. Your breathing is laboured. 

“You okay?” he asks you. 

“Just missed you.” 

“I brought you some stuff. Vapour rub and decongestant spray, painkillers, vitamins, everything.” He leans down as he wraps his arms over your front, a promise to look after you. “Try to take a deep breath, angel,” he advises sympathetically. “You sound really out of breath.” 

“Too much standing up.” 

“Standing up can be good for you when you’re sick. It stops you from getting idle diseases and bed sores, and walking is even better for you if you can manage it, it helps unclog your sinuses.” He finishes his fact, and he looks down at you all poorly in his lap, remembering very quickly how lucky he is to have found someone who listens. You didn’t interrupt. You wouldn’t have even thought about it, he’s sure. “But no more standing up or walking around. I’m gonna get you anything you need. You’ll be better in no time.” 

You give him your own grateful smile. “Thank you.” You scrunch up your nose. 

“Are you gonna sneeze? I got balsam tissues.” The damage to your nose has already been done. “Do you have any chapstick? We’ll rub some on your nose to stop it from getting any drier.” 

Your wrinkled nose worsens. “Thank you for coming to look after me,” you say weakly. 

He wants to say you’re his best friend in the whole world, but you’re more than that now. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly, ducking down to plant a kiss near your eyebrow. “I always want to look after you. This is just the first time you’ve let me.” 

You smile contentedly, your voice falling to a whisper. “Will you tell me you love me again?” 

Spencer doesn’t think he’s in any position to deny you. “I love you,” he says truthfully. “Thank you for letting me come over.” 

You turn your face into his arm. “Thank you for wanting to, handsome.” 

#spencer and bombshell reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

DOWN BAD- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Jock! Peter x Nerd! Reader (enemies to… lovers?)

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Peter Parker constantly nags you, and you hate his guts (naturally). So what better way to mellow the hate by being paired together for a class project? And why, if you hate his guts, do you want to touch him so bad?

Warnings: Making out, suggestive sexual content, dry humping, teasing, swearing etc…

Notes: It’s been a while, I apologize if my writing is a bit rusty! I hope you enjoy nonetheless, I had a fun time writing, and I really did miss it (Taylor Swifts new album really inspired me too!) I am using my phone to post for the first time, I hope to go back and format/ edit if need be when I can use my laptop again. Thank you for all the support :)

“Don’t look at me like that.” You huffed, eyes sharp as daggers as your cool gaze slid over to your target and struck its mark.

Peter Parker. Bullseye.

You could feel his lingering attention solely focused on you, a coy smirk upon his lips as he tapped his pencil against the wooden desk, its dull echo like nails on a chalkboard. A taunting metronome in the back of your mark as he leaned over to tower over you in his seat.

It was too close to yours for your liking.

“Like what pipsqueak?” he murmured, drowning out the professor's droning voice as he dragged on. You wished you could hit him with the textbook in your bag. Both of them, honestly.

“Like you’re thrilled for this. Don’t act like you like me.”

“Well I do like you.” He smiled, beaming ear to ear.

For him, it was the best day of his life. Getting randomly paired with “whoever you’re sitting next to, I don’t care.” (the professor's words, not yours), was a thrill for him, he got to pick on the quiet, shy girl more than usual.

Which would be a shock, considering the sheer amount he did already, always finding his way next to you to tease you, especially with and to his stupid jockey friends. This project was worth thirty percent of your grade. You couldn’t afford this.

“Well I don’t like you. So fuck off.” You heard a low whistle from behind you, a chuck alongside it from his friends. “Kitty has claws?” Peter whistled, eyebrow raising in mock surprise as you shifted your legs to the other side of the chair, angling away from him.

“Oh you’re in for it now Parker” Bucky laughed as you covered your ears in an attempt to drown them out. You felt like you were in middle school again, the way they mocked you. And what made it worse was that it got to you. Not that the jokes and remarks meant anything much, but it was just the sheer annoyance of it all.

You had thrived to be a straight A student your entire life, and in this class… you could feel them slipping. Taking a deep breath, you clenched your pen harder in your hand, pressing so hard the page snagged as you wrote.

You could still feel his eyes on you, flickering over from under his glasses ,his muscles flexing subtly under his blue t-shirt. You pretended not to look, and to not focus on the fact he was extremely attractive. You spent the rest of the hour doing just that, scolding yourself for any indecent thought you had ever had about him, ever. By the time the professor had snapped his laptop shut, the projector turning dark as students started to talk amongst themselves as they packed up, you had half a page of notes, max.

“I’ll be in touch.” he leaned down and whispered, hand lingering by your chair as he slipped by. “Fuck you.”

He just threw his head back and laughed, his friend group joining him as he looked back. And winked. You groaned. This was going to be three weeks of hell.

—————————————————————————

It was a Thursday when you got a text from him. An unknown number flashed on your screen as you lay face down on your bed, contemplating life and if this class was seriously worth it or not.

The buzz of the phone had your head snapping up, confused until it suddenly dawned on you.

Unknown: Think we should start brainstorming for this thing pipsqueak?

Well fuck, you thought, wanting to throw your phone across the room. This class wasn’t that important, right? (It was).

Taking a deep breath, you sat up as your thumbs started to fly across the screen.

You: Who is this?

Unknown: I’m hurt, pips. Truly.

You: I think you have the wrong number.

You smirked. Okay, who were you kidding… this was kind of fun. Kind of.

Peter: It’s Peter, you jerk. Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?

You: Peter who? Doesn’t ring a bell.

Good. Knock him down a few pegs. You giggled to yourself, quickly stopping once you realised why exactly you were kicking your feet like a school girl, for who exactly. You layed back down, head muddled with meaningless thoughts that jumbled as you waited for his response. Grabbing a stuffie, you hugged it close to your chest, feeling it rise and fall as you caught your breath, grounding yourself. Why on earth did this mean so much to you? Why did his texts, something so easily ignorable- suddenly a waiting game?

Peter: Ha ha, very funny pips.

You: How did you even get my number anyways?

Peter: Long story, I had to go on a bit of a hunt. A friend, of a friend of a friend, you get the point. I can be very persuasive ;)

Nope. You thought. Don’t give into this.

You: I’m sure.

Peter: You wanna come over on the weekend or meet at Braxston’s to start… brainstorming?

You: I don’t want to do anything of the sort, but if that gets this over with as soon as possible- then sure. Only one of us has a brain to storm anyways.

Peter: You’ll regret that pips.

You clicked off your phone, a ghost of a smirk on your face. His threat surprisingly didn’t seem like a real threat, but actual light hearted teasing, not the kind he often did.

Fuck. You were supposed to be hating him. You did hate him. It was only three weeks with him. You weren’t sure if you meant that with relief or disappointment.

————————————————————————————

It was disappointment.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you rubbed your creased temple. It was nearly midnight , and your books were still scattered across the desk you occupied, the library a ghost town considering it was a Friday night. Braxston library tended to be on the empiter side, which is why you preferred it. It was the oldest library on campus, smelling of old pages and cedarwood.

Sometimes, when you needed a break you would get up and run your fingers across the leather spines, or climb the ladder for a change of view of the stained glass windows. But tonight, you lacked the motivation to even bother standing. It had been a long night, filled with cramming and stress. Pen and highlighter stained your hands as you shook them out, cramped and aching. For the last hour you had solely focused on the final you and Peter had to pull out your ass, coming up with backup plans with the worry he would abandon you completely.

Topics, ideas, theories- god you didn’t even know anymore. Your body lacked caffeine, your iced coffee long gone. You grew tired of this mindless work, sliding off your headphones to admire the near empty room around you.

Suddenly, you wished it was completely empty.

Peter looked just as shocked to see you, eyes widening in surprise, backpack slung over his shoulder, hair ruffled and eyebags prominent as if he had fallen asleep and been startled awake.

“Pips? I thought we weren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow?” He made his way over to you, inviting himself to lean over you, on your desk. You stared up at him with a look of amusement.

“We don’t have to meet at all. It’s very bold you assume I’m here to see you, of all people.” you snorted. His eyebrow raised. “So who are you here to meet?”

“Two papers and exam prep. You?”

“More or less the same” he smirked, and you felt butterflies start to churn in your stomach. “Sounds like great fun. I’m sure they’re lovely.” you said, snarky comment slipping out before you could stop it, turning in your seat as you often did around him so he wouldn’t see the fluster and nerves in your demeanour whenever you were near him.

He leaned down, breath warm against the column of your neck. You couldn't breathe. You could not fucking breathe with him this close to you. The rich scent of his cologne made you dizzy, it intoxicated you as you stared at your laptop screen, as if it possessed the knowledge of the entire universe.

“You know, you can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about” you snarled softly, staring at the coy, cockly little smirk you wanted to wipe off his face as he stood. “Sure you don’t.” He nodded his head towards your screen, with a wink.

“Good song.” he smiled, before he was off. You continued to stare at him as he walked out the door, not looking back once. Not a care in the world as he slipped on his own headphones, and around the corner.

Eyes moved down to stare at the pause button of your song, lyrics burning into your ears at the thought of him listening to it- and enjoying it.

Down bad, waking up in blood, staring at the sky, come back over and pick me up- fuck it if I can’t have us, I might just not get up, I might stay down bad.

You were so incredibly fucked.

———————————————————

You took a deep breath. Then another.

You let the crisp, cool night air wash over your burning skin, the faint smell of weed tickling your senses, probably from a house down the street. It was a pretty busy neighbourhood, full of students you recognized from afar on campus. You didn’t associate with the more ‘popular’ kids, if that could even be considered a thing past high school.

You tried to shake off the uneasiness that stuck with you, cracking your knuckles as you tried to prepare yourself to not only see Peter, but to interact with him- in his house. Most likely for hours. You knew you probably looked like a complete idiot out on the sidewalk, just near his house but you had to muster some form of courage.

All you could see was a faint light from what looked like the living room, and a light upstairs- you presumed his room. No sign of life other than that.

You thought of his words, how twisted they sounded. You can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.

Fuck it.

You slipped from your hiding spot (from Peter, you were placed behind a large tree in his front yard, but god knows what people driving by thought), and mentally prepared yourself for his roommates to answer the door, making fun of you before he put the cherry on top. Practically leaping up the porch stairs, you raced to the door, knocking quickly.

You wanted this over and done with. Your palms were clammy and your stomach churned viciously as you heard footsteps near the door. It took everything in you to stay rooted to the ground and to not flee, and when Peter appeared, you feared the opposite.

How the hell you were supposed to move with him in that slutty little fit, a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his waist, his v-line and happy trail on full display… his toned abs and arms in a little white muscle shirt… gods you didn’t know. You were sure your tongue fully hung out of your mouth like some cartoon character as you took him in.

“Took you long enough” he said with a snort, adjusting his glasses, sliding them further up his nose. You didn’t even know he had glasses. Did he wear contacts? Had he worn them and you just didn’t notice? No, surely that wasn’t the case, you noticed everything he did. It was like he sucked all of the air out of the atmosphere whenever he walked in a room. It was suffocating, in a way. Of course you had to look at him, and you were sure you weren't the only one.

“I was admiring the greenery.”

“I saw that. I wasn’t sure the maple needed to be examined that long.” he smirked, and your felt your fists instinctively clench.

He had saw you- so you were fucked and now the only logical thing to do was to run into a brick wall. Perfect, got it.

“I enjoy living in the moment, and I don’t take nature for granted.’ you huffed, attempting to compose yourself as he stepped aside, motioning for you to enter. “I’m sure. Don’t worry it was cute.” he smiled, running a hand through his tosseled hair.

You slid off your shoes, setting them next to his worn in converse you always saw him wear. You noticed the other pairs were missing, not even a missing lace to be found.

“Where are your roommates?” you asked as entered, surveying the open space. It was surprisingly tidy for a boys place, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Peter rushing around attempting to clean up before you came (though you doubted he would ever do that). Still, it was nice to think about.

Little traces of “boy” still lingered, silly little signs scattered across the walls, flags and such, empty, crushed beer and poking out from the recycling bins. “I kicked them out, because I figured you would want to contentrate.” he said.

Yeah like I’m going to be able to conetrate with you looking that fucking fine. Ha.

“That’s considerate. I’m surprised you even know what that is, Parker. I’m impressed.”

He snorted, throwing a little look back your way as he lead you up the stairs, presumably to his room. “I’m surprised you know how to walk up stairs. You have Bambi legs.” he teased, mocking your clumsiness. You cursed him internally. Maybe out loud too, judging by his laugh.

You tried to stifle down the butterflies. You were not about to flirt with him. You were not about to let your developing feelings expand. You hated him. He was mean and he was an asshole.

You were simply here to get this project done. That’s it.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” was all he said, turning down a hall to an open door, light glowing faintly- beckoning to you. You appreciated his refusal to use the overhead light- not that you’d tell him that. He’d probably look at you like you were insane.

“I see you clean for girls you bring over.” you noted, observing his (surprisingly) decently clean room.

“Bold of you to assume I cleaned. Maybe I’m always this tidy.” he smirked, arms flexing over and behind his head as he sat down in his office chair, man-spreading as he stretched.

You tried so hard not to stare. And failed miserably.

“I would’ve thought you cleaned up for ladies you bring to bed.”

His eyebrows arched. “Should I have prepared then?”

Something like churning fire burned in your belly, slithering lower and lower.

“Don’t start with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it pip.” he smiled coyly, knowing he had gotten you flustered. “May I?” you nodded to his bed, trying to ignore your feelings as you sat down. Fanning your skirt out, you tucked your legs in before opening your bag, attempting to cover your thighs with your bag as much as you could- his cool gaze staring lasers into your bare skin.

“So… if we have to base this on a creature in the wild…”

“Jumping straight to the point aren’t we?” he asked and you frowned in confusion.

“What did you want me to do foreplay or something beforehand?” you asked, your word choice more than intentional. You swore a little pink tinted his cheeks as he swiveled around.

“Right to it then. Okay, I was thinking spiders. Specifically their venom and social behaviours.”

You blinked. Jesus okay he had thought about this. This was not what you were expected.

“Elaborate Parker.”

He smiled. “ From what I’ve seen, not a lot is known about the venom entirely. From a predator-prey aspect.. I’ve mainly seen stuff on specific components evolving to target specific sites on cell membrains of prey tissue, we could work with that to start. Maybe expand on the social aspect and evolution.”

You were stunned. This was… more than you could’ve hoped for. Suddenly you felt bad for all the doubt aimed towards him over the few days leading up to this meeting.

“Hmm. I like it.”

“Did you have any ideas you had brewing in that genius brain of yours?” he asked, making you blush internally.

“I had some stuff just in case, but it was just random jots I’m not too proud of.”

He scoffed. “You came prepared with backup stuff?!”

You just shrugged. “Do you blame me?”

“Kinda.” he laughed. “Start thinking of me more highly pips. I even have access to a brown widow, we could do some experiments.”

You winced at the thought of actually studying a spider up close, but it was part of the job. Whatever could get this done the fastest, and you had to applaud him for providing some of your own evidence you could actually showcase.

He caught your wince, and you could feel the teasing start to start. It was like bait for him, he loved it. “The spider may bite, but I won’t. That is, unless you want me too.” he winked, and you fought the urge not to chuck your laptop at his handsome face.

“You’re gross Parker.”

“Oh I’m sure you think I am. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You were going to strangle him. “Let’s just focus and get this project done as soon as we can, yeah? Please.”

You riffled through your bag, grabbing different coloured pens and your notebook, skimming through your random thoughts and jots.

“Whatever you say pip.”

“Start researching Parker.” And that was that.

—————————————————————

A few hours had passed, and so far you were quite impressed with how much the two of you had gotten done. For the most part, the two of you had stayed on opposite sides of the room. If he wanted to make a move, he wasn’t physically doing it, and his roommates still hadn’t come home yet.

Though as the hours passed, he had made his way closer to you- ever so slightly. From his desk he nudged over closer and closer, his laptop landing in his lap as he worked.

“What source are you working from right now?” you asked, not bothering to cast your gaze up as you continued to type, fingers flying over the keyboard as you bit your lip in concentration. You failed to notice his eyes darting between your lips and your breasts that poked out slightly as you slouched over, licking his lips hungrily.

“Some research paper. Here.”

You let out a little oomph in surprise as he plopped down beside you, sprawled across his bed as he enveloped you in his makeshift fortress. He stared at you with such longing you felt faint, having to stop your work to pull yourself together.

Fuck.

He nodded towards it, and you realized you had been staring at him longer than you intended, forgetting about the paper completely. “Oh, yeah okay let me look.” you murmured, taking the laptop from his hand to slide it across your lap, the fan whirling softly, the warmth of it adding more coals to the fire you felt already.

He was still staring.

Please look away before I want to kiss you. Or do more then kiss you. I’m supposed to be hating you, stop please.

You tried your best to read and concentrate, but it was next to no use. All you could focus on was him, his fingers drumming on the comforter near your thigh (what man has a comforter anyways?!), and his gaze on you, that was heavy with something. Want, perhaps? Lust? Or you were delusional. Very possible.

“It’s um, it’s good. I like it, I think there’s lots of good… stuff here.”

“Good stuff huh?” he asked sarcastically, a smirk plastered across his face.

He knew. The fucker knew you were down bad.

“Yeah. You know what I mean.” you grumbled, staring back down at your screen.

“I do know what you mean. Do you know what I mean?” he asked, hand inching closer and closer to your thigh- teasing you. You took a deep breath, grounding yourself.

You could push your hatred aside for just a few minutes. It was okay, just this once. Right?

You bit your lip, and fuck if that didn’t turn him on even more. Nodding to him, as if he could speak to you telepathically.

Yes, this is okay. Please touch me. Just a little, even is fine.

“Maybe you should explain a little more, Parker.”

His fingers skimmed the edge of your skirt, warm to the touch as they stroked your skin softly, just a whisper of him lingering. Goosebumps lingered in their wake, and you pushed your laptop off to the side, not caring where it landed on the bed. Just not next to him.

“How much more?”

His voice was low. Deep. Needing. You wanted more.

Another stroke of his fingers on your thigh, closer to where you wanted him the most made you shiver, toes curling. His gaze never left yours, never faultered. Instead of its usual lightness, his teasing and bullying- his eyes were dark with lust. Nothing but his full attention was on you, and you couldn’t help but shudder as he leaned in closer.

Another hand landed on your thigh. “Yeah?” he asked, voice rough as you nodded quickly. “Mhmmm..- oh!” you let out a little gasp as he swiftly grabbed you, swinging you over to straddle his lap, tossing you as if you weighed nothing.

You hated that you found it hot.

He smirked, leaning forward- so close you could feel his thudding heart with a small hand gesture sliding across his chest, could feel his breath catching. Just a small little gap between his lips and yours.

“You’re going to regret this.” you murdered, fingers curling into his shirt, twisting the soft fabric.

“I won’t. Will you?”

“I might.”

His smile grew.

“ I still hate you, you know.”

“I know. And you look so damn hot when you do.” He pulled you closer, fingers digging into your skin, needing you closer and closer despite the two of you practically forming one being.

A clash of teeth and tongue happened, rough and harsh- full of hate and need. A hatred for your need for him. Why did you need him? Of all people?

Because he was so fucking fine.

A hand slipped under your skirt to cup your ass, squeezing it slightly. You ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it as your hips moved on their own account- causing a groan to slip from his lips.

You’d do anything to hear it again.

“This is so wrong.” was all you could moan as his lips worked their way down your neck, tracing your jaw before nipping at your earlobe.

“I don’t do right, pips. You know this.”

“Mhm. But you hate me.”

He laughed against your skin, and you rocked your hips again, a little slap to your asscheek making you jolt.

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night, pips. Whatever you want to think.” he sighed, massaging the skin as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

You needed his lips on yours. You didn’t want to even try to decipher what his words meant, your head was foggy with want. You were slipping into a puddle of bliss, finally letting the restraint you held on a tight leash go- freeing the want and pure desire.

Yes, you wanted him. Yes, you hated him. And yes, he teased you. It hurt- but this didn’t. This was a soothe to his constant jabs, a salve to the wounds he caused.

“You feel so good. I want you so bad.” you confessed, causing him to moan again.

Yes. Yes, please.

“You’re killing me.”

“Good. It’s payback for the way you treat me.” you smirked, kissing him again. Hard, fast, rough. Mean.

Until he just… stopped.

Pulled away slightly, making you raise an eyebrow with confusion. His cheeks tinted slightly pink, hair messy and eyes wide with excitement, eager to keep going. To go further. So why did he just- stop?

“Parker?”

He smiled coyly.

“Don’t we have work we need to be doing?” he asked sarcastically- and you felt your stomach drop. He was teasing you. He was doing this just to get under your skin, to leave you high and dry and needing. Knowing damn well nothing could possibly get done now but him.

“You- you just want to get back to work? After that?”

“I want to do the dirtiest things imaginable to you, pips. I want to do so many things. But if we keep going and get nothing done, you’ll regret it and hate me. If we get work done, you’ll hate me too. I rather you hate me but feel secure with this, at least.” he murmured, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

It was tender, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “So you just, want to work? Did I do something wrong?” you asked.

“Gods no. But it’s too easy if I just give it to you like that. You know me, pips- I tease. Maybe if you’re good and get more work done we can have some harmless, regretless fun.” he winked, sliding his hands down to your hips, picking you up again to toss you gently on his pillows, kissing your hand with a wink as he stood to go back to his desk.

Oh you were fucked. So, so fucked.

“I heard that.” he laughed, and you buried your head in your hands. This was going to be a long three weeks indeed.

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[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 5 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With each email written and received, you and Bradley are both aching for more details. While he's thinking about plans for a first date, you get apprehensive, knowing you're going to be devastated when he returns to wherever he calls home after a few days of leave. If the two of you had an opportunity to speak more intimately, there's a chance the details could fall into place.

Warnings: Fluff, language, Bradley being hot

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

After much consideration on the matter, you sat down at home that evening with your phone and started to type up a response to Bradley. He wanted to know in an overabundance of detail how you'd feel if he asked to cancel your dinner reservation and chill with takeout instead? You weren't quite sure what he was getting at, and it felt a little bit like he had given you another assignment to work on, but you were planning on being completely transparent with him. 

Once again, the ease with which you and he communicated, even through the written word alone, was something that made you a little dizzy. A little needy. Bradley had better communication skills and paid you more attention than half of the men you'd dated, and he wasn't even in the same time zone as you.

Bradley,

We got the package you sent. My kids went wild over their personalized notes, as per usual. You've reached full celebrity status in my classroom. We'll be working on sending some notes back to you in the next few days, so brace yourself.

Please remember that you asked me for an abundance of detail here... What would I do if you wanted to change plans? Wanted to spend a quiet evening hanging out at your place instead of going out? In an extreme effort to sound as cool as possible right now... just thinking about this is making me feel warm enough that I need to take a lap around my apartment. I guess first of all, I would tell you that as far as takeout is concerned, I love Thai food the most. I'm not very picky though, so even a generic pizza and some beer would more than suffice. 

If you said you were tired from work and still wanted to hang out, I wouldn't be too pressed about the details. I would be perhaps a little giddy that you missed me enough to want me around. I'd offer to pick up dinner on my way. I would let you choose the movie. I wouldn't even be upset if you fell asleep. In fact I'd probably just cover you with a blanket and let you doze. There is perhaps no worse feeling than forcing yourself to go out when you just really don't want to. And right now nothing sounds better to me than watching a movie with you on your couch. But I have to know... if you're 6'1", are you too tall to stretch out there comfortably? Where would I end up? Would we be touching? Please reply with an abundance of detail. 

I know this scenario is purely hypothetical, but it does sound pretty perfect. I'll be thinking about splitting some Thai curry with you on your couch for a long time. Maybe during those couple days of leave when you get back to San Diego, we could meet? I think I would like that, even if you just have one day before you have to get back to your regular routine. And now I need to take another lap around my apartment.

One last thing. The aviator who took my photo on the beach was a woman, but I appreciate your response. I can't guarantee I'll stay off the beach, but I can guarantee that I'll give a guy a chance. Also, what does a girl have to do around here to get a dreamy sunset photo of you? 

Once again, hitting send before I can change my mind.

You took another lap around your apartment, even going so far as to walk around the block before it got too dark outside. Thai food and Bradley Bradshaw and a movie on his couch. There was a loop playing in your mind where he leaned in and kissed you before calling you 'Gorgeous Girl' and reaching for your hand.

"Why are you torturing yourself like this?" you moaned out loud when you walked back inside all flushed with desire. You took a long bath. You made some sleepy time tea. You sat on your couch with your notebook and worked on lesson plans until it was pretty late, but you weren't tired at all.

Frustrated that you were letting this man take over so much of your brain, you went to your bedroom and plugged your phone in for the night. And that's when you heard the familiar ping, alerting you to the fact that you had a new email.

"No way," you gasped when you looked at the screen. You'd just send him a response two hours ago, and Bradley had already written back. You flopped down onto your bed, wrenching your phone back from the charger as you started to read.

Hey, Gorgeous,

Your answer was enlightening, thank you. Relieved to hear you wouldn't pout about missing the dinner reservation. I love Thai food, but I would absolutely insist on grabbing the takeout and having you pick the movie (nothing with scary spiders, please). 

I actually don't really fit on my couch too well at all. If I really stretch out, my feet dangle over the arm, and there wouldn't be much room left for you, too. Would we be touching? God, I hope so. Where would you end up? I'm blushing just thinking about the possibilities. 

You asked for details? Well, I'd ask for permission. If you gave me permission to touch you, we'd be holding hands. If you gave me permission for more than that, then you'd be covering both of us with a blanket, and I'd be holding you a lot closer. I don't think I should provide further details on that right now, actually. Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head.

If you're feeling generous enough to give me a chance, then I'm feeling generous enough to send you a sunset photo. But frankly a girl like you isn't going to have to do much at all to get whatever she wants. Next decent sunset around here is all for you.

Your Truly,

Bradley

Well, you may never sleep again. You read his email twice before pulling up the photo of him in front of his jet, and your mind started to wander as you looked at his face. No, you'd never sleep again.

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

Bradley felt pretty ridiculous. He'd never taken so many photos of himself before in his life. Snapping a few for your class while in his cockpit with all of his gear on was one thing, but trying to get a flattering one of his face with the sun setting in the middle of the ocean was something else entirely. He was alone in a deserted part of the deck, thankful nobody else could see him. 

"Maybe she won't notice if I'm not in it," he muttered as he snapped one of the setting sun. The sky was glowing a deep orange, and the clouds moving in made everything look even dreamier. He started thinking about you and the fact that you said you were going to give him a chance. The details weren't important. He'd work that part out. When he got back to San Diego, he was going to see if you and he were as compatible in person as you were right now. But the remainder of his deployment was the one thing that was preventing that from happening immediately, and you did ask him for a photo of himself. If you really wanted it, he'd make sure you had it.

He had never been so stressed out about his scars in his adult life before right now. The best photo he took of himself was one where they looked a little more prominent. He'd sleep on it tonight and consider if he wanted to send it or a different one. Usually he didn't care at all. He supposed that in person, women would either talk to him or not, depending upon if they were bothered by the way he looked or not. But you weren't with him in person, and the more detailed the photos were, the more likely you were to dwell on his face now. He really wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

After grabbing an inspired dinner alone in the mess hall, he thought about eating spicy Thai curry on his couch while you and he argued playfully about which movie to watch. Then he thought about you sitting on his lap and maybe even touching his scars which he hoped you wouldn't be bothered by. Then, as he changed to head to the gym, he imagined all the things he thought about but didn't tell you. Like pulling you onto his lap or stretching out on his couch with you lying mostly on top of him. His hand would find a nice resting spot on your back, or maybe even a little lower. His lips would eventually find yours, and the movie would become a distant memory in his mind.

"Shit." Now he was the one who needed to walk a lap before he could even go to the gym. He was already sweating by the time he got there, making it his continued mission to avoid the married woman while he listened to his playlist. He did a few extra reps, knowing you were on dry land in San Diego and wanting to make sure he looked as good as possible. Maybe he could make up for the close up photo of his face with his body.

Without sleeping on it, Bradley went back to the lounge and logged in. He sent you the best photo of the bunch along with two sentences.

Thinking of you, Gorgeous. Tell me about your week.

But he didn't hear back from you right away, and it wasn't for lack of checking his inbox. He hoped you and your students were working their way through the last batch of notes that he'd mailed. Or maybe you were busy and tired from taking them on a field trip. He was hoping there was a reason other than you not liking his bad selfie that meant he didn't get a response. 

Luckily he got busy over the weekend so he didn't have to think about it as much. Each time he climbed that ladder up to his cockpit and waited patiently for his jet to launch from the carrier deck, he took a few seconds to clear his mind and make sure he was focused on the right thing. He needed to survive this deployment so he could even potentially allow his thoughts to go further with you later.

When he made his way back to the lounge after dinner and a shower on Sunday night, he definitely got more in his inbox than he was hoping for. And not in a good way. There was a new message from you, but it was sitting right beneath a second, newer message. From Vanessa.

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked himself, loud enough that the guy next to him turned and glanced his way. It had been months since they'd spoken. Literally fucking months, and she was emailing him now? "No." Sudden panic started to boil to the surface as he quickly tried to click on it, now terrified about what she could be contacting him in regards to.

Hi,

I'm only writing to you because I have a bit of an issue that I need your help dealing with. I can't find my favorite water bottle anywhere. I think it's in your kitchen cabinet, and I just started at a new gym, so I really need it. Let me know how I can get into your house to retrieve it. And please don't take forever to respond to this like you usually do. Like I said, I really need it.

Vanessa

It was a joke. It must be. Bradley double checked the email address to make sure he wasn't being pranked by Nat or somebody else, but no, it was really from Vanessa. 

"A fucking water bottle?" he muttered. He couldn't even picture what she was talking about. Unless it was that ugly, oversized pink thing she used to carry around with her everywhere? The one with the big handle that he joked could double as a weapon? That thing?

What the fuck. He wrote back to her before he even bothered to open the email from you.

Vanessa, it's a water bottle. And it's already been months. Can't this wait until I'm home?

He hit send, rolled his shoulders and took a few deep breaths. He could archive her message so he didn't have to see it again, and he'd just deal with her bullshit later. He would read what you had to say instead, and hopefully it would cheer him up. But after he stood and stretched for a minute and sat back down, there was already a new response from Vanessa waiting for him.

"What the actual hell?" he grunted. He didn't even know what time it was at home, and he didn't take the few seconds to do the math as he started to read.

No, Bradley. I can't wait. It's a $65 sustainable, dual temperature, leak proof water bottle in a limited edition color. And I would like it back. I tried to find a replacement online, but I do not want a potentially used water bottle. Please advise.

He sat there with his fists clenched and his jaw set tight. He literally could not believe her. Anyone else would just use a different water bottle like a normal person, but he knew she'd be on his ass nonstop about this now. The fact that he was going to have to explain this situation to Nat and beg her to go over there with his spare key was almost laughable. He'd probably owe her two steak dinners if he asked her to deal with his ex girlfriend, because she never could stomach Vanessa. 

He sent Nat a quick email anyway with Vanessa's phone number which he had to look up in his phone, begging her to take care of this for him. It would be worth the price of two dinners at this point. Then he settled back in his seat and tapped on your beautiful name, letting the monitor fill up with your words. When he started reading, he forgot he was supposed to feel nervous at what you sent back in response to the close up selfie.

Bradley,

Wow. I didn't think things could improve after the photo of you with your jet and the video where you're speaking. But I was wrong. So wrong. And I'm not upset about it. You're very handsome. The sunset looks okay, too. Now you're the one messing with my head.

I'm sorry I didn't write back immediately, but you should know that your hot photo has taken up residence in my mind. My week involved three of my students getting sick with the flu as well as a bunch of parent/teacher conferences, and tonight I'm really tired. The idea of snuggling, or more, with you on your couch has been playing on loop. I'm giving you permission to hold my hand if we ever meet in person. You have very nice looking hands. You have a very nice looking everything. Would you mind me asking how old you are?

Right, well, we mailed another box back to you on Friday afternoon. My kids asked me to project a photo of a Super Hornet onto the wall so they could have a drawing contest. I finally caved and let them, and they want you to be the judge. And once again, you'll have eighteen individual letters to read. Nineteen if you include the one I put in the box.

On that note, I'm going to take a bath and snuggle up in bed. And you can't blame a girl for looking at that photo again.

Yours Truly,

Your favorite pen pal 

Now this was the kind of thing he wanted in his inbox, not questions about missing water bottles. Bradley hit reply immediately, happy that you hadn't even mentioned his scars. You thought he was handsome in the close up picture? He always figured he was okay enough looking that his height and build made women say he was attractive. But you actually called him handsome. He started typing back to you, already feeling so much better.

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

After resting all weekend, you were definitely feeling better. You loved your students, but sometimes dealing with their parents was more than you bargained for. Adults were often worse than kids when it came to complaining and exercising patience. All of the conferences from last week were a thing of the past now, but you still felt a little bad for taking so long to write back to Bradley. Especially after he sent you that photo.

Maybe you felt like you had to reel it in a little bit. What was the most that was going to happen? He'd agree to meet you during his short leave in San Diego? Maybe you'd go out on a date? It would probably be the best date of your life. It might even turn out to be the best night of your life. And then he'd leave for another station with the Navy, or maybe he'd return back home, leaving you feeling even lonelier than you did before you inadvertently mailed him that first box.

It was a good thing you had your students to take your mind off things on Monday morning. 

"Are we going to talk about aviation now or after lunch?" Violet asked as she unpacked her pencil box.

You took a deep breath and said, "We're actually going to start a unit on Natural History today." Eighteen pairs of eyes stared at you like you'd completely lost your mind. "It'll be great!"

Oliver's hand rocketed into the air. "Does Lieutenant Bradley also know stuff about Natural History? Is that what we're going to write to him about now?"

Great. Your students were just as attached as you were. "Well since our aviation unit is going to be tapering off, we probably won't need to be writing to him as much now."

"What?" gasped Jayden. 

"No way," complained Nia. 

After that, you tried to move along with your lesson plans, but the entire class just sat there quietly, barely engaged with what you were saying. And perhaps part of it was your fault, because you didn't really feel like teaching this after all. By the time lunch and recess arrived, you felt defeated. You sat quietly at your desk in your empty classroom while your kids played outside, and you ate your lunch while you checked your phone. Bradley had written back an hour ago. Even if you wanted to wait until later to read it, you wouldn't have been able to.

Hey, Gorgeous,

That note from you made my day. I can't wait for the new letters from the kids to arrive so I can spend my evenings writing back instead of absolutely living in the gym right. You want me to judge a drawing contest? Bring it on. I'm so ready.

I'll tell you how old I am. I wasn't expecting to be so nervous about it, though. I'm thirty-six. You definitely look younger than that. I know it's never appropriate to ask a woman how old she is, so maybe you'll offer that number up without me asking? And maybe you'll tell me that I'm still within the age range of men you let email you regularly? Please?

Not gonna lie, taking a hot bath sounds amazing right now. And snuggling up in something bigger than an extra long twin bed would be heavenly. And thinking about you doing either of those things is enough to get me through the week with a smile on my face. Maybe even through the rest of the month. Maybe even to the point where I'm in San Diego. You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?

I'll be waiting for more air mail and another email.

Yours Truly,

Bradley Bradshaw

"Damn it," you groaned, melting back into your desk chair and shoving a cracker into your mouth. Even if meeting him was going to be a one-off, you still wanted to do this. You still wanted to write back to him and flirt and listen to his voice in the video he sent for your class with Marty the mechanic. You wanted to think about him working out on the aircraft carrier. You still wanted him to call you Gorgeous. You'd write back tonight.

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

Bradley was taking another video and some more photos in the shop with Marty for your class when one of the admirals stopped by. He jumped to attention and addressed him. "Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Bradshaw, you haven't put in for a phone call. Would you like to?"

Bradley just blinked at him for a few seconds. "I don't really have anyone to call, Sir." But that wasn't completely true. He'd never actually asked you about it, but he wouldn't mind calling your number. Which he didn't even have.

The admiral nodded and said, "Just giving first dibs to my high rankers who haven't made a call home yet. Otherwise you're dismissed, Lieutenant."

As soon as he started to walk away, Bradley found himself following along. "Actually, Sir, I may have changed my mind."

If he was already thinking about Thai food and a picnic on the beach for a first date, he might as well just ask you for your number now. As long as you didn't tell him his age was an issue. As long as you seemed keen on the idea of him calling. So he put his name down on the list, and then he started to sweat. He finished up with Marty, and he headed for the lounge.

When he logged in, he braced himself for another note from Vanessa like he always did now, but the only new item he saw was from you. He decided right then that if the vibes still felt right, he'd ask for permission to call you. And yeah, the vibes were feeling pretty fucking good. 

As soon as he opened the email, the attached photo at the bottom pulled his gaze in like a beacon. You were in bed, mostly under the covers, and the thin straps of some sort of tank top were the only thing preventing him from having a completely unobstructed view of both of your shoulders. Your skin looked impossibly soft, too perfect for him to touch with his rough hands, and your expression was playful and maybe a little nervous. He could see the soft swell of your breasts before the blankets enveloped your body in the most comfortable looking cocoon. He wanted to join you there in the worst way, and keep you warm enough that you wouldn't even need that blanket.

His heart was pounding as he started to read your note.

Bradley,

You know, it's funny you should mention that, because my currently inactive dating app profile says I'm interested in men who are between 30 and 40 years old. So you sound kind of perfect to me. And not that you asked or anything, but I turned 30 earlier this year. I hope that's within the age range of women that you let email you regularly.

I'm writing this from my bed. I have attached a photo. I'm not wearing any makeup, and I'm all snuggled in for the night, and of course I'm thinking about you. Whether it's a good idea or not, I find myself frequently thinking about you.

Your favorite pen pal

He scrolled back to the photo and sighed. Oh, he knew it was a good idea. Maybe you just needed a little bit more convincing, but it was definitely a great idea. That first date was looking better and better in his mind. He wished he could give you an estimate on when he'd be home so the two of you could start planning it. Bradley's stomach was growling for dinner as he pried his eyes away from your photo long enough to type out a message.

Hey, Gorgeous,

You're the only woman I'm going to let email me regularly. And I was right. You do look adorable snuggled up in your bed. That photo is going to keep me up at night wondering how cute you'd look in mine...

It looks like I'll have the opportunity to make a phone call soon, and I'd love to hear your voice. If you want to talk. I can't guarantee I won't sound like an idiot, tripping over my words the whole time, but hey, a guy can dream. Will you let me have your phone number?

Yours Truly,

Bradley

And now, once again, he would wait for you to respond, hoping his luck wasn't about to run out.

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

A phone call! She him your number immediately, Gorgeous! There are some things you need to hear him say in that raspy, sexy voice! Thank you @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #yours truly bradley bradshaw

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Away We Go {3}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: It’s winter break and silly season 2024/25 which means drama (and officially the end of the series). Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, fluff WC: 4.1k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry || One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go || One || Two || Three

With the final three races of the season a triple header you hadn’t been home in weeks. You had missed your own space and knowing where everything was unlike the hotel rooms you had spent almost a month living out of. What you hadn’t missed was the pile of mail to sort out. Three stacks were neatly comprised on the kitchen table: one each for Lando, Charles and you. A quick skim through them found most were the usual culprits - bills, fan mail and junk - but two stood out. 

A thick brown envelope had a return address for Oxfordshire, England and you tore it open with a squeal. “I got it!”

Your shouts had Lando and Charles dropping the suitcases in the bedroom and even Autumn looked up from where she was playing with her toys in the living room. “Guess who’s back on the grid, baby!”

Your feet were lifted off the floor as you were bear hugged from the front and back, kisses peppering your cheeks that ached from the wide smile. 

“Congratulations, love.”

“Knew you would do it, amour.”

You couldn’t keep still as you reread the welcome letter and the others picked through their mail. 

“Huh,” Lando huffed as he opened an envelope similar to one you also received. “That’s weird.”

“It’s not another pair of panties, is it?” you asked, the item making an unfortunately common appearance in their mail.

“No, it’s from the Vegas Chapel.”

You tore open your envelope too and skimmed over the letter that confirmed the marriage to Lando had been successfully submitted to the State of Nevada, and accepted. “Wait, that’s not right. Who submitted it?”

Charles rushed through his pile searching for the same envelope but there was nothing for him. His brows furrowed and he grabbed the two letters, holding them side by side to see for himself. “What about me?”

A lump formed in your throat and you curled your arms around him. “We’ll figure it out, baby, it’s got to be a mistake.”

It wasn’t a mistake. 

Well, it wasn’t a clerical mistake but the human kind, where the minister's assistant had missed the conversation about the marriage not being legal. She had submitted the paperwork with the rest of the chapel weddings and since yours and Lando’s document was on top it was processed first. The other two were rejected.

You were legally married to Lando, for better or for worse.

–

“We should get ready,” you murmured, not really feeling in the partying mood but Max had returned from the FIA awards and wanted to celebrate his championship win. 

In the week since getting the letter, things hadn’t been the same. Charles was withdrawn, Lando was full of remorse, and you were left trying to figure out a way to reunite your family. Even Autumn was picking up on the tension in the house and was fussier than usual. 

“You can tell Max I am sick,” Charles muttered from the couch he sank into, clutching a cushion to his chest so he could rest his chin on it. 

“You’re not sick.”

“I feel sick.”

“We all feel sick,” Lando added before curling a finger your way and you followed him down the hall to the office. He had spent most of the day locked in the room, talking with lawyers about the best option. It was too late to annul the marriage, he found, and neither of you really wanted to go through the paperwork for a divorce - but if it saved the relationship with Charles then that is what you would do. 

“Steph can draw up the documents,” he said after closing the door and dropping into his computer chair. “We just need to go through our assets and figure out whose is whose.”

“Even though we aren’t actually breaking up?”

“Yeah.” The one word held so much defeat and Lando scratched at his head before tugging the curly strands. “I fucked up, love, I should have just kept my mouth shut and none of this would have happened.” 

You followed his eyes to the picture frames that were still stacked in the corner of his desk. It would have been rubbing salt in the wound for Charles if they had been hung as planned in the bedroom. Taking a seat on Lando’s lap, you brushed his hair back into place and kissed the frown away from his forehead. 

“What if there is a way to show Charles that he is as much a part of this family, without a divorce?” The marriage so far had been kept quiet but a divorce would become public, something you would rather avoid given your seat signing hadn’t yet been announced. 

Lando perked up with hope and you took a deep breath. “How do you feel about changing your name?”

–

Winter break hadn’t got off to the best start but you were trying to remedy that with the two documents laid out on the kitchen table. 

“Charles, can you come here please?” 

Lando fidgeted with his necklace as footsteps padded down the hall. Charles had locked himself away in the gym and his grey shirt was damp with sweat as he looked between the two of you waiting for him.

“Family meeting, sit,” you ordered. You had taken Autumn over to Max’s so there would be no interruptions and she had enough bottles of milk to last the day if needed. “Christmas is coming and I am not having anything ruin this for Autumn’s sake.”

With less than a week to go, the house had nothing to show. There were no decorations hung and the Christmas tree was still in a box in the storage closet. You couldn’t even bear to think about going to the ski resort with everyone and having to put on a brave face. 

“We are going to fix this today,” Lando said with a serious tone.

Charles scoffed, clearly not believing him, but he dropped into the seat at the head of the table and looked down at the papers and pens. “What’s this then?”

“Your choice.” You pointed to the left, and a much thicker stack. “This one is for a divorce. Everything would hopefully go back to the way it was before, but since it will need to be filed in the US it will be publicly accessible. Nothing we can’t handle with a PR team statement, if that’s what you want.”

Charles fingers the pages but didn’t try to read them before turning his attention to the smaller document. “What’s this?”

“A promise,” Lando said, taking Charles hand and trying not to cry when it went limp in his. “You’re my husband, no matter what a stupid piece of paper says, and we are a family. I know how you are feeling, I remember when you two accidentally went public and I thought I was being left behind. But you didn’t, and I won’t ever either. I belong to you.”

“Me too,” you said, taking his other hand. “And we want to show that we are in this together until the very end by changing our last names to Leclerc, if you’ll have us?”

The question hung suspended in the apartment and the only sound came from the clock hanging in the kitchen. The seconds ticked by as Charles quietly contemplated the options in front of him. What he wanted wasn’t a possibility, no matter how hard he wished it was, but he knew he couldn’t continue the way he had been, keeping you both at an arm's length. He could see the bags under your eyes from the restless nights and hated the toll this had taken on everyone. 

Charles tried to remember those three short weeks of bliss, the intimate secret that only the three of you knew about, and he sighed as he realised he hadn’t kept his promise. Rising from the table he grabbed the thick stack of papers and walked away, the office door closing behind him.

“Well, shit,” Lando muttered. “I always imagined being married longer than Kim Kardashian.”

“I know, but it’s his choice and we have to respect that,” you agreed, hanging your head in your hands. “I suppose I should ring James and give him the heads up.”

You couldn’t muster up the energy to make the call though, you just sat there in silence with Lando. Twice he opened his mouth to say something but the words fell short and the minutes continued to abandon the day as if they wanted it to be over just as quickly.

Strange whirring sounds came from the office and Charles dipped across the hall to the storage closet, then into the bedroom before hard banging echoed through the house. Each bang sent a jolt down your spine and your eyes began to burn at the thought of Charles being so angry he had to break things. You looked and Lando and he looked at you, a little shake of head saying, ‘Leave him be’.

Finally, it all went silent and Charles sauntered his way back into the room and dumped an armful of paper shavings into the table along with a hammer. The mountain of shredded paper spread across the wood and some fell into your lap, the barely-legible name of the attorney spelled out on each strip.

“That was a stupid idea,” Charles muttered as he fell back into his chair and scrambled through the rubbish to find the application forms for official name changes. “You’re not getting a fucking divorce.”

“Uh, okay…” Lando said with a frown, his eyes darting to the hammer and then to the hall. “Should I ask what’s broken or are we just ignoring that?”

“I didn’t break anything,” Charles said, clicking the pens and holding one out to you and Lando. “I hung our marriage certificates up where they were meant to be. Now, are you serious about this?”

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” you said as you took the pen. “Are you?”

“You’re mine, and the whole world is going to know it.”

–

Christmas Eve 2024

The long table was in a state of chaos as parents tried to wrangle the older children and the grandparents watched on with amusement, remembering the days when that was them. You shared a smile with your husbands and knew that next year you would be a part of that chaos but for now you were happy to watch on while Autumn played with a plastic spoon in her high chair.

It had become a tradition to open one present before the meal and a small box sat beside the glass of wine you were indulging in, a group present for the three of you. A larger box was just out of Autumn’s reach and Penelope’s was tempting the young girl with a Christmas cracker balanced on top.

“Who wants to go first?” Adam asked, a chorus of ‘me’s’ ringing out from all the kids old enough to understand.

You leaned in to whisper to Charles and Lando, slyly glancing along the line of adults. “$500 says Kelly’s pregnant.”

Lando looked at Max and Kelly who were busy chatting to Daniil and his eyes widened. “Holy shit, you might be right.”

Charles was just confused. “What is going on?”

You watched Kelly take another sip of her drink before Max refilled it, with water. “See, that is not a gin and tonic.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Charles laughed, shaking his head.

“And they invited Daniil.”

“Exactly, that would be more awkward, no?”

You huffed at fault in the logic until you snapped your fingers excitedly. “Except they want P here for the announcement and it was his year to have her for Christmas. Jesus, I am in the wrong line of work, I should be Sherlock.”

Charles picked up your glass and sniffed the wine. “I think it is you who needs water, amour.”

“Does that mean you are up for the bet?”

“I don’t need the money, but I will enjoy taking it from you,” he teased.

Adam quickly gave up trying to have any organisation and let the kids tear into their presents. Luka and Lio were the first to get through the wrapping paper and immediately wanted to play with the racecars. Mila squealed at the unicorn helmet she got to match the bike she had asked Santa for while Athena hadn’t even attempted to open hers as she was distracted by the cheese and cracker board. It was Penelope who sat in silence as she stared at the shirt she unwrapped.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Kelly asked with a knowing grin and you slapped Charles’ leg under the table.

P held up the shirt and started to bounce in her seat, a wide smile splitting her face. “I’m going to be a big sister!”

“I can also take the $500 in the form of sexual favours,” you whispered.

“Happily, but later,” he said before standing up and congratulating Max and Kelly.

“I’m surprised she could keep the secret,” Max said to Charles, his head nodding in your direction as you sank lower into the seat.

“Hmm, is that right?”

“She kind of figured it out a few days ago when she caught Kelly spooning marmite out of the jar with celery sticks. Cravings, mate, they are a strange fucking surprise.”

Charles laughed in agreement and clapped Max on the shoulder. “Speaking of surprises, we have one of our own too. Don’t worry, it’s not another baby this time.” He returned to his seat beside you and waited a few minutes for everyone to congratulate the two. Finally when the room calmed a bit he picked up his glass and tapped it with a spoon to get the adults attention. 

“I just wanted to thank everyone for being here and spending another Christmas with us,” Charles began, his finger tracing the lip of his glass he still held. “Every year the table keeps growing larger and, Max, you finally get to be the reason for an extra chair next year, so big thumbs up for taking that responsibility. My wife thanks you,” he chuckled along with Lando before reaching for the small box on the table, opening it to reveal the wedding bands you had chosen.

“You know, three years ago I would have never imagined being this happy without winning a championship, but I have learned that even if I do get to raise that trophy myself one day it is more important having loved ones to share the experience with.” Charles took the first of two identical rings. Your husband’s rings were relatively simple but it was all they needed - like the necklaces they wore, it was made of three bands woven together. “I can’t wait to experience it all with you,” he said as he slipped the ring on Lando’s finger before picking up yours. Similar to theirs, yours was woven with three bands but yours had a dazzling emerald and sapphire inset to represent them. “Every moment, good and bad, as long as it’s with you.”

You reached for his ring, the last one in the box and placed it on his finger with a smile.

“You’re meant to ask the question first, then give them the rings,” Lorenzo teased as Pascale nudged him to shush.

“That would be a proposal,” Lando laughed, curling an arm around Charles' waist and pulling you in too. “We are actually celebrating what comes next.”

“Wait, what?” Max gaped. “Marriage? You guys are married?”

“So, not quite, it’s, uh, actually a funny story,” you said with a grin. Now that everything had smoothed over you could finally laugh about the situation and the rest of the table found it equally amusing once they forgave you for not telling them. “I should probably update the FIA with my new name. How confusing is it going to be for Crofty to have three Leclerc’s on the grid?”

“Two,” Max corrected, but you just winked. His eyes widened and he stood up, walking around the table to grab your shoulders. “You got a seat?” You nodded and he squeezed the air out of your lungs with a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, zusje.”

“Season hasn’t even started,” you reminded him. “There’s still a lot of work to be done but the testing looks promising for next year.”

“I know you’ll do great. It’ll be nice to have a little competition again,” he teased Lando and Charles, despite the final results being closer than they had been for a few years.

“The only competition we have to worry about is out on the slopes. I’m not pregnant this year so I will be out there at dawn ready to kick your ass, Verstappen.”

Max smirked at the challenge and raised his glass to tap yours. “You’re on, Leclerc.”

–

Epilogue

The same faces welcomed you back to the grid but the colours they wore had changed. Lewis was at Ferrari and Carlos was at Red Bull, but the most surprising change was Alex who had gone to Mercedes. Albon was meant to be your teammate but he had chosen not to renew his contract and rather than bring in a rookie to start from scratch they renewed Logan for his third year.

The American driver stared at the roof for the team meeting before the first race of the season and you tapped his cap. “You don’t need to worry,” you chuckled. “It’s just a boob.”

The man was born and bred a polite southern boy and still couldn’t bring himself to even look in your direction while you pumped the excess milk out. After finding out the hard way during testing, you knew you had to get at least a bottle out or there would be leaking in your racesuit before you passed the chequered flag. Starting in P6 there were high hopes that you would score some good points and you didn’t want to go to the media pit with two wet patches on your chest.

“I’m not worried, just giving you some privacy,” he said quietly.

“You’re good at that,” you said as you swapped the pump to the other breast. “I don’t think I properly thanked you for not telling anyone I was pregnant.”

He frowned and almost looked your way before turning his attention to the computer screen of data. “It wasn’t my place to say.”

“That doesn’t stop some people, so thank you.”

“No problem.”

“We are having dinner after the race, you’re welcome to join us if you want.”

“Isn’t it your family?”

The flow into the bottle had slowed to a drop so you turned the machine off and packed it away with the bottle, covering your chest back up at the same time. “We can have eye contact now,” you teased. “It’s a long way here, most of our family couldn’t make it so it’s really just a bunch of orphans congregating in our suite. You can bring your girlfriend too, or boyfriend - we don’t judge.”

“Definitely girlfriend,” he admitted before shyly scuffing his shoes on the concrete floor. “How did you know?”

“You’re very private, I figured you’re either in a quiet relationship or a serial killer. I’m really happy it wasn’t the latter.”

Logan loosened up with a laugh and began to relax as he joked, “Innocent until proven guilty.”

The rest of the briefing went quickly and strategies were made for the current weather readings. The mildly warm temperatures at the tail end of an Australian summer were promising from the data and you knew it would come down managing tyre degradation with all the right hand turns. Albert Park was a fun circuit but as Alex learned last season, one mistake and the race could be over in an instant.

“I’m just going to check on Autumn,” you said to James as you walked out of the garage after the driver parade.

The team principal checked his watch and gave a nod. “15 minutes.”

You knew those minutes would fly by so you jogged down the pit lane to Mercedes where Susie was watching over your daughter, when she could get her away from Toto. But it appeared you were the last one to arrive as Lando and Charles took turns having some last minute cuddles.

“I hope you have one left for me, my love,” you cooed as you stole her from Charles. “Mwah, mummy loves you.”

You handed her back and swung the bag off your shoulder. “There’s plenty of milk in here if she runs out, and some yoghurt too.

“Relax, mama, we will be fine,” Susie assured you. “Focus on the race.”

As if to remind you, the bell for the grid opening rang out and you knew it was time to head back. “Okay, focus,” you told yourself before kissing Autumn’s cheek again and inhaling her baby scent. “Love you.”

Lando tugged at your sleeve and you reluctantly let him pull you away or you wouldn’t have had the strength to. “Come on, love, time to go.”

“I know, it’s just…hard.”

“Always is,” Charles admitted, kissing your temple. “See you out there, Spitfire.”

—

Testing was nothing compared to the strain the race put on your body, but it was like riding a bicycle, once you got into the groove you couldn’t even feel it. Your sole focus was on the car ahead and the carbon fibre rear wing that belonged to Lando. Though the Williams didn’t have the down force to compete with a McLaren or Ferrari in the corners, it somehow had great straight line speed. That straight line speed mixed with a classic Ferrari strategy and a slow pit stop by Mercedes had you defending the third position you suddenly found yourself in. It would have been a different story if Carlos hadn’t’ve had a turn one incident with Lewis, but you would take all the luck you could get.

“Wow, what a welcome back,” Naomi cheered as you stepped onto the interview mat and you looked back at your car parked in the third spot.

“It doesn’t even feel like I left,” you admitted with a laugh.

Lando had already done his interview and stepped over to the barriers where Susie’s silver Mercedes uniform stood out in a sea of dark blue Williams mechanics, Autumn squirming to be put down when she spotted her daddy.

Naomi followed your eyes to your husband and she smiled. “But there have been a few changes since we were last standing here.”

“Some things never change though.” You jutted a thumb at your brother who was busy kissing Kelly and P who cheered with the rest of Red Bull for his win. “I was kind of hoping for a repeat of last year since Charles was right on my ass - I mean tail.”

“Three Leclerc’s on the podium would surely have been a historical moment and I apologise to our viewers for that little whoopsie.”

Not wanting to risk another swear word on live tv, the interview ended and you raced over to Lando and Autumn, enveloping them both in a hug. “Wish Charles was here,” you murmured to his chest.

“Me too,” he said, kissing your sweaty forehead. “Ready to go pop some champagne, baby?”

“Also-fucking-lutely.” You kissed Autumn and thanked Susie for watching her as you made your way to the cooldown room. “Remind me to pump and dump later because I am chugging that bottle.”

“You deserve it,” Max said as he entered the room and took Lando’s seat since he had stolen the middle one. “I had to double check you parked in the right spot.”

“Lando’s the one who does that,” you pointed out. “But honestly, it was like the stars aligned, I don’t know how it happened. I mean, testing was good, but everything just fell perfectly into place.”

Lando smiled proudly and took your hand, resting on his thigh while you watched the highlights on the tv.

As the Dutch anthem played you watched the crowd below the stage, your keen eyes finding Autumn on Toto’s shoulders where he stood with your principal and you were certain you saw him wince as she pulled his hair. Finally the last anthem finished and you grabbed the jeroboam bottle, giving it a swirl to really make it fizzy before bringing it down on the stage.

Bubbles tickled your skin as the fountain rained down and you turned it on Lando and Max before tipping it back and savouring the taste after almost a year without it. Floating on the high, you took a seat on the podium and watched the last of the confetti fall to the ground. Sensing the celebration was over, Max joined you, tapping his bottle to yours.

“Told them I’d come back and win in a Williams.”

“You didn’t win, zusje,” Max corrected, lifting the medal that hung around his neck for emphasis.

“Yet,” you grinned, taking another long drink before wiping the excess from your lips. “But it’s only round one.”

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you

[beejunos]

UNKNOWN TO ME AND YOU | Alastor x reader | PART 2

Summary: After your altercation with Alastor in the hotel lobby, will you be able to mend your relationship?

This is PART 2. Part 1 can be found here.

This is the continuation of @lustylita's wonderful idea, which can be found here. I just had the pleasure of writing it. I hope you enjoy the end of our little story!

Tags: Alastor x gn.reader, some angst

The relationship between you and Alastor had taken a sharp turn for the worse. What used to be a strained but neutral relationship was now strained, uncomfortable, and awkward at best. You found yourself doing everything in your power to avoid him whenever possible.

Each time you and Alastor coincided in a room, a surge of panic would engulf you. The urgency to escape the impending unbearable awkwardness was so tangible it left a metallic taste in your mouth. You would hastily concoct an excuse, no matter how feeble, to flee the scene. The same sense of panic would grip you if he happened to enter a room you were already in.

As you made your hasty retreat, you made a point to never meet his gaze. You were acutely aware that if you did, you would be confronted with the pained expression on his face behind the mask he liked to present to the world, a sight that would be unbearable. Despite Alastor's adeptness at concealing his emotions, you could now sense his anguish from the shadow he cast.

It was something you never anticipated. You never thought you'd harbour any kind of affection towards the man. Yet, after the end of your relationship with Alastor's Shadow, it felt like going through a tumultuous breakup with him. The pain of it all left you feeling raw, vulnerable, and insecure as if a part of you had been stripped bare of dignity and reason. You were left feeling smaller than you really were, with a heavy weight on your shoulders that dragged you down. As if everything was your fault. 

But you had never known about Alastor's feelings for you. You didn't even know when his affection for you had begun and why he had buried them so deep within his heart that his shadow had to break free to soothe its ache. Only when his shadow broke free did you realise the extent of his emotions and how deep they ran.

The days felt like they had grown longer and lost all their colour without the presence of Alastor's shadow. Hollow and lifeless. Whilst you could argue all you wanted with yourself that it was the shadow that you wanted and not the man, the reality was that the shadow was the man. 

They were not separate. They were one.

To love one was to love the other. 

What ... love?!

Pain can be subjective, just like any emotion, but that does not diminish its impact on one's life. The heart will make itself known to the mind whether the mind wants to know or not, but sooner or later, the heart will make the mind yield to the pain, the longing, and the wanting just to get a moment of peace. 

And that's where you were right now, at the door where your heart had broken down, letting the reality of your emotions spill at your feet. A door it begged you to walk through, but you were scared. You were a coward. For Alastor saw you through his darkness, his shadow, and you saw him through his. 

To knock or not to knock. That is the question.  

It had been 23 days since your altercation with Alastor in the hotel lobby. When he had branded you with a kiss that still burned. Marking you with a curse that tore your heart out and poisoned your mind. Longing for the time when it had been just you and Alastor's shadow, but now all your memories of the shadows had been replaced with the man himself. Giving you a genuine smile that only your eyes were allowed to see. To be given the privilege, the trust, to see him. To see the man and not the sinner. To see the soul and not the demon.

Everyone longs for love, no matter what form love comes in, longing for companionship. Trust. Strong arms to fall into with hands that could hold us up when our legs can't bear the burden anymore. And you knew that Alastor could be the arms you wished to fall into, but did he still want to fall into yours?  

To knock or not to knock. That is the question.

The door to Alastors room felt like the doors to an impenetrable fortress. A domain that used to reek of him but now lured you with promises you longed for but feared as well. 

With your crossword puzzle in hand, you counted down from five to zero before lifting your shaking fist and knocking on the door softly. A part of you hoped that he wasn't there so you could run back down to the lobby and forget that you had ever had this stupid idea. The idea of mending your relationship. 

However, you were not so lucky, for Alastor soon opened the door. His smile twitched as his eyes fixed on you, and if you weren't imagining things, you thought you heard a soft chirping sound behind him.

"Yes?" Those were the first words he had uttered to you in 23 days. The only words you had allowed him to say to you in 23 days. 

Swalloing the stone in your throat, you let out in a rushed ramble:

"Canyouhelpmewithmycrossword?"

"I'm sorry?"  

"My crossword," you said, trying not to have a shaky voice, "can you help me with a clue? I can't figure it out."

You held out your newspaper with the crossword to him, pointing at the specific clue you had in mind. In reality, you had already figured it out 30 minutes ago, but Alastor didn't need to know that. He looked from you down to the newspaper, then back up at you again. His eyebrow raised. 

"Very well," was all he said as he looked down at the newspaper and the clue again, but by bending down, you now had his head right beside yours. You wondered if his big ears meant he could hear better and if he could hear your heart trying to beat out of your chest. Could he hear how it called out to him? How it had howled at your mind to let him back into your life again.

"The answer is Erato, the muse," answered Alastor and straightened up again.

"Oh, right. That makes sense," and that was when you remembered that Erato wasn't just any muse, but a muse whose name meant desire, and never had you desired for the smallest of touch from another before. Looking down at his lips, so red and soft, knowing what they had felt like on your cheek but maybe never getting the chance to touch them again was torture. 

"Was there anything else?"

Like a record scratch, you were hurled back into reality, looking back up at Alastor, who was studying you intensely. This is where your mind won over your heart, and you became a coward again. 

"No! Thank you for the help!" you practically screamed as you stiffly stormed down the hallway, away from the sinner who closed the door to his domain, and you wondered if it was painful to die. 

Work was slowly killing you, and it was not a pleasurable experience. Buried in paperwork, you had been staring at a document for the past half hour without really taking in the information. No matter how many times you would re-read the document, the words made less sense as you kept reading. Blurring together in one big mess that drained you of all your energy, the clock had not even struck 09:00 yet. 

Overwhelmed, you buried your face in your hands, your body leaning on the desk for support. You wondered how you were going to make it through the day if it continued at this excruciatingly slow pace. 

After a slight knocking, the door swung open, and someone entered your office. 

"Not now, Charlie," you said softly so as not to offend without looking up, "I told you I'm fine. I don't need you to check on me." 

However, no answer came, and when you looked up, you realised that it wasn't Charlie who had come knocking at your door again but Alastor, who was holding your favourite cup in his hand and a bag in the other.  

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you," you said and began to stand up, but you slowly dropped down when Alastor walked over to your desk and sat down your cup. The smell of coffee filled your office and the mere thought of having that sweet beverage filled you with delight. Beside the cup, Alastor put down the brown bag he had held, and you instantly recognised the logo of the bakery from across town that you loved so much. 

As you looked at the bag, you felt a sudden jolt of surprise that made your body shake. You raised your gaze to Alastor, who was standing in front of you, and then back to the bag. You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth spreading through you as you thought about the blueberry muffin that was waiting inside. It was such a simple thing, but it made you feel wanted. What a wonder that such a small thing could make you feel so special and warm on the inside. 

That warmth was something you hadn't felt in a long time. Ever since Alastor's shadow stopped visiting your office, you had felt incredibly lonely. You missed the little conversations you used to have with him and the way he always seemed to know just what to do to make you feel better. You even found it hard to go to the bakery and get your muffin in the morning because it made you feel too alone for your liking.

But now, as you had the bag in front of you, you felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe things were finally starting to look up again. Maybe Alastor was back in your life for good, and you could once again look forward to those little moments of happiness that made your day a little brighter. 

"I... thank you, Alastor. I greatly appreciate it." Your heart skipped a beat when Alastor looked down at you and gave you a small, genuine smile. 

"You're welcome, my dear," he said softly as he turned to leave your office. His demeanour was calm and collected, yet you could sense a certain warmth and friendliness in his voice.

"Have you seen the roses yet?" the words rushed out of you before you could hold yourself back, too desperate for his company now that you had gotten it back. 

"Pardon?" asked Alastor without turning around to look at you fully. His hands were resting on his microphone cane. 

"The roses, in the garden. They've bloomed, almost all of them. They're... they're breathtaking. You should see them." Your knee started to nervously bounce under your desk as sweat began to gather in your palms. The man had managed to render you a nervous wreck so fast, his presence alone stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you. 

"No, I haven't seen them yet. I'll make sure to walk around the garden on my break today. I can imagine that they are lovely." 

Thinking this was the end of the conversation, you turned back to your dreadfully dull documents.

"Would you care to join me?" asked Alastor, his soft yet hesitant voice making your heart skip a beat. It was as if the air around you had suddenly become charged with an unspoken tension, making you wonder if he was nervous as well.  

"In the garden?"

"Yes." 

"I... I would love to." 

"Wonderful. I'll come to get you around twelve if that works for you."

"Great! I look forward to it."

As he walked out, you couldn't help but sit back in your chair and take a deep breath. You felt a sense of relief and contentment, knowing that Alastor still seemed to want to try a new connection—something new and unexplored. You picked up your coffee and took a sip, letting the warmth of the liquid spread through your body. Alastor had managed to wake the butterflies within you again with a single act of kindness.  

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Your and Alastor's relationship had improved immensely over the week. However, there was just this little problem that kept bugging you. Alastor had not touched you in any way, not even laid his hand on your shoulder or offered his arm when the both of you had walked through the rose garden. While this wasn't uncommon, you rarely saw him really touch anyone in the hotel except for the odd pat on the head, but his shadow had been so physically affectionate that you yearned for the intimacy of it all. 

While not overly affectionate, the shadow had not hesitated to hold your hand or rest on your shoulders. It wasn't that you wanted to carry Alastor on your back, but the simple act of holding hands seemed like a distant dream. 

You sank deeper into the sofa in the hotel lobby as you glanced at the deer demon sitting by the fireplace above your newspaper—your crossword puzzle long forgotten. Alastor was sitting cross-legged with a book in one hand and a glass of rye whisky in the other, silently humming to the song he played from the antique radio he had summoned, and for some reason, you thought that he had never looked more attractive.

Satan's sweaty balls, you used to party every weekend and only come home after you had tried every type of alcohol the club had to offer, and now you were in love with a sinner whose favourite pastime was listening to jazz while drinking whisky. Your younger self would have hated what you had become, but in the present, you felt a deep sense of contentment, wanting nothing more than to have a quiet evening with Alastor, where he would read out loud to you from his book in front of the fire with your head in his lap, listening to jazz.

Angel Dust shouted a loud good night and started to walk up the stairs to his room after another hour had passed. Charlie and Vaggie, who had been sitting by the dining table and doing a jigsaw puzzle, were the next ones who left the lobby. Charlie's good night was barely audible because of how much she was yawning. The last one to leave the lobby was Husk, who you knew stayed longer than he usually did just so he could keep an eye on you. You quickly shot him a meaningful glaze, trying to tell him that everything was fine, which he seemed to understand. 

"Night," grunted Husk as he started to walk up the stairs. 

"Good night, Husk!" you shouted back, grateful that you and Alastor had some more time alone. That is if you actually dared to do anything. 

The chance to change the mood was almost too good, too romantic for you to think clearly. There were so many possibilities as to what you could do. You could ask him about his day, but that felt too predictable. You could ask him about his book, but what if the book is boring and you can't make the conversation sexy? Would he even like that? He was flirty in a very subtle and charming way, but would he like it if you took a more direct approach? 

Without knowing it, you had spent all your time thinking of all the things you could do with Alastor now that you were alone with him that you completely lost track of time. It wasn't until he closed his book and stood up that you were pulled away from your thoughts back into the present. 

"Well, it is getting quite late. Sweet dreams, my dear." 

Panicking again like he so often made you do, you blurted out the first thing you could think of to make him stay. 

"Do you know the dance foxtrot?" You fucking idiot, of all the things you could have asked, why did you ask that?!

Alastor turned to you while raising a brow, and even if he looked at you with a curious gaze, you could not help but feel like the biggest fool in all of Hell. You used to be smooth when flirting and look at yourself now.

"I do. Why do you ask, my dear?" 

There was no backing down anymore, so you took a deep breath, cheeks and ears burning, and confessed;

"I've always wanted to try it! I've seen others dancing it, I even know the moves, but I've never had anyone to dance with." 

In the blink of an eye, the music on the radio changed from a soft and slow jazz song to one with a more precise and faster beat. Alastor bent down and left his book on his chair before he walked over to you. 

"May I have this dance?" he asked with a mischievous smile. 

Not caring anymore about dialling down your excitement, you gave him the biggest smile as you took his hand. Letting him pull you off the sofa. His hand was warm and soft, sending tingles up your arm as he gently stroked his thumb over your knuckles. 

As Alastor pulled you towards him, he quickly established that he would lead the dance. With your hand on his shoulder and his between your shoulder blades, he pushed you into the first step of the foxtrot. The rhythm of the music began to take over, and he started to spin you around the empty hotel lobby. You couldn't help but laugh, feeling the wind rushing against your skin as you twirled around and around. 

As he spun you, his red eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. You felt like the only person in the world as you looked deep into each other's eyes, lost in the moment. It was a look you didn't see often, but sometimes, when it was only you and him, you could catch a glimpse of a softer look from Alastor. A look that made the butterflies in your stomach make loops in excitement. It was a look that made you feel cherished and admired, and it was a feeling unlike any other. 

The dance seemed to last forever, and you didn't want it to end. You felt free and alive, and you knew that this was a moment that you would never forget. 

When the song came to an end, a new song began directly after it. This one is slower than its predecessor, one that you couldn't necessarily dance the foxtrot to, for it was a song that called for a type of slow dancing. 

Without hesitation, Alastor pulled you closer towards him as his hand moved from between your shoulder blades down your back. Leaving a trail of fire under your skin as his hand pulled you closer to him after it stopped in the middle of your back. 

None of you said anything but continued slowly dancing to the music on the radio. His red eyes, heavy-lidded, looked deep into yours as he slowly dipped down and kissed your lips.

Happy 'burn a big ass bonfire so the witches who are flying to the devil's party fly into the bonfire instead' day, everyone! (If you can guess which country I'm from, from that, I'll be really impressed)

Taglist for the part 2: @littledolly2345 @slytherin4ever @wendds @beelz3bub @adamwarlockislife-blog @ilikemyteawithmilk @cherry-cola-100 @xia21 @rae-pottah @xsoftdead18 @arrozyfrijoles23 @maulsgf

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #alastor x reader angst #hazbin hotel alastor x reador angst #hazbin hotel angst

[bunniesanddeer]

Hate (Alastor x Reader)

Hey, awkward haha. This is only my second attempt at smut, inspired by the lovely @hazelfoureyes. (If you want me to untag you, I totally will).

Obviously minors, DNI.

I'm normally not comfortable with this stuff, mostly because I don't have a ton of experience writing it. I decided, that for practice, I would try writing something where the reader doesn't like Alastor. I figured a dynamic that was different from what I normally wrote might help me learn how to get better at writing smut. So here is something inspired by the best smut writer, about a dynamic I've never written :) Also, my first time writing PiV, so sorry if it sucks :) be gentle with me, lol

Hate

Pairing: Alastor X Reader

Warnings: Reader HATES Alastor, Enemies to enemies with benefits, heat, smut, 18+, Alastor speaks French, praise kink, fingers, PIV.

Word Count: 3,818

You could feel it building. The heat rising and coursing through every inch of you. The way it settled in your core, at the pit of your belly. The twinge and ache in your chest. The pressure behind your eyes. The delirium in which you processed it. It was as much as you could take, and you could feel the tension building.

You hated him. You hated him with every inch of yourself. It was a hate that suffused your bones, that dripped through clenched teeth, and twitched tightly gripped hands. You hated him entirely. It wasn’t just the way he talked, although the pompous air and the two-faced words he spoke with angered you to no end. It wasn’t the way he dressed, despite the fact that it was an out of style suit that he preferred, that pissed you off at even a glance. You knew it wasn’t the way he looked, because as much as you hated the sight of him, he was an admittedly handsome demon and had likely been a handsome man; he had dark skin, and fluffy red hair that framed his sharp face nicely. No, it was something deep inside, that you couldn’t quite explain, that made you despise him so, so much.

Alastor was not a good man. No, it wasn’t exactly the best way to judge those that were already in Hell, but among the many denizens you’ve met, he was surely high on the list of fucked up crimes. Sure, he claimed he had a moral code that he strictly followed, but if no one knew what it was, what the hell was it good for? Maybe it was his hypocrisy. The way he held himself and looked at others with such disdain, and yet he was just as lowly and weak and corrupted as everyone else.

Alastor was a hypocrite, for sure, but maybe so were you. How else could you explain this? Who were you to judge him, for all his faults, when yours were staring you in the face? 

Your thighs ached. You could feel the pain growing, and you knew it would only get worse. You had been around him long enough now, that the cursed body you had been gifted had caught on, and now you would suffer for something you never agreed to. 

It hadn’t even been a thought, when you moved into the hotel. You hadn’t thought about the fact that your form and his might affect one another. How were you supposed to know it was a possibility when you’d never run across another deer demon, let alone a Buck? Hell, quite frankly, hell. Each new, fucked up thing, you found brought you greater misery. Now your own body was a prison. You’d take having periods again, if it meant you didn’t have this terrible thing.

When it had first started, only days before, you had sought out Angel Dust, who had laughed at you. 

“Ha! Are you pulling my chain, toots?” He had asked, his tone filled with bewilderment. “C’mon, you gotta know! You’ve been here for years!”

But you didn’t know, and when he caught the anxious look growing on your face, and the fidgeting of your hands, he sighed. 

“Shit, ya don’t know, do ya?” Angel put one of his many arms around your shoulders, and guided you to his room. He settled you on a plush bean bag, and offered you something to drink. You shook your head, anxiety making your face tingle. “Suit yourself, babes.” He sighed, and scratched the back of his head. “It’s called heat. Some folks don’t got one, some do frequently, and some are seasonal. For folks who got it seasonally, it tends to, uh, depend on whether or not ya got someone, you know, compatible.”

You cocked your head as you scratched and pulled at a stray thread on your pants. 

“You gotta find someone with a similar build to yours. If you ain’t ever seen another deer, it might be why it hasn’t come up, babes.” His words clicked in your head, and your face paled. 

“No,” you said, chest frozen at the thought. It hurt suddenly. Your hands tingled, and your chest hurt. What was happening? “No, no, no. Absolutely not, please tell me it’s not because-”

Angel winced, and gave you a pitying look. “Yeah, it’s cuz of Al, doll.”

You gasped for breath, and you shook. You couldn’t think clearly. Everyone knew how much you and Alastor hated each other. You made it clear, and his constant badgering and rude behavior seemed to solidify it for everyone that it was mutual. But for your body to betray you, for him? This felt like the ultimate Hell.

When you started crying, Angel had soothed you to the best of his ability. The next morning, after falling asleep in Angel’s many arms, he gave you an unopened toy, and told you to gather supplies. Enough to hoard up in your room for a few days. He promised to run interference for you, and sent you on your way. 

So here you were, writhing on your bed, on day three. Your sense of smell was increased, and your ears twitched at each subtle sound in the hall. You had tried putting on some mindless show so you could stop focusing on all these extra sensations, but it didn’t help. The extra voices, all not his, sent your head spinning. You had turned it off after only half-an-hour. 

Your thighs rubbed together, and sweat dripped down the back of your neck. You pushed your face into a pillow and groaned. You had avoided it thus far, but it might be time to break out the little vibrator. 

Eventually, you sat up in your bed, ignoring the blankets that you had pushed to the floor the day before. You huffed, and reached for the toy that had been plugged in the night before. You gave the strange pink toy a squeeze, the soft silicone giving just slightly, and made your way to the bathroom. While you washed the toy, you tried to convince yourself that this was all you needed. One good vibe session, and you’d be back to normal. You were wrong.

It was hot. The whole room was unbearably hot. You were covered in a thin layer of sweat, and your clothes had long found themselves on the floor. You had needed to recharge the toy one already, and it had only been a day. The water in the shower couldn’t get cold enough to cool you down. Your core ached, constantly, and your thighs had a near constant mess of slick spread along them. You were delirious with the unfathomable sensations you had been unwillingly wrapped in. 

With a cry, and your soaked fingers at your clit, you orgasmed, weakly. The release wasn’t nearly enough. You twisted, and bit down on your pillow as you cried, just a little. This was terrible. And all because of Alastor. You thought of his nasty jokes, and how cruel he could be. You thought on sharp eyes, and sharper smiles. You thought of his claws, and a soft grasp around your throat, slowly tightening as a normally clear voice grunted and huffed. You pulled your vibrator out again. With something in you snapping, you kept thinking of his slim hips, and broad chest. The way his hands twitched and grasped at his microphone. His leer and the way his eyes followed you when you walked into the room. His laugh, when he was angry with someone. The way he had shown you to handle a weapon before you fought the angels. The angry look he gave you when you yelled at him weeks later. You thought of his hands wrapping around your wrist, and his chest hovering over your back as lithe hips pressed against your ass. 

You came with another cry, the white-hot feeling surging through you. 

Shame filled you up. You were a hypocrite too, it seemed. 

It was dark. Your head was fuzzy, and you couldn’t place the time of day. You sat up, the room spinning as your heart settled. Something smelled good. Your eyes fluttered as you took it in. After a moment, you flicked your eyes around the room, and in the chair by the window was a figure. 

You screeched. It wasn’t terribly loudly, but it made the figure twitch. You dove to the lamp by your beside, and quickly flicked it on. As the warm light filled the room, it flashed across his eyes, and the look alone made you gasp.

“Alastor?” You whispered. What the fuck was he doing in your room?

“Oh, ma bichette.” His voice was rougher than normal, something dark tinging it. 

“What the fuck are you doing in my room, Alastor?” Despite the yearning in the pit of your belly, and the aching you had suffered through for days, this was beyond not okay. Alarm bells were ringing in the back of your head, and you couldn’t fathom why he would break into your room.

“Oh, ma chérie. I have felt that burn for days, and in your absence it grew worse.” His head cocked, and his eyes flashed in the light again. His hair looked strange, as if it was nearly damp. Something in his smile was unhinged. Your chest tugged and ached, and you had to fight to focus through the tingling in your fingers. “I could smell you, and this ache, this hunger I have never known, only grew worse.”

He stood from the chair, and you leaned back on your hands, ready to twist and run if you needed to. His tall form drew your gaze up his shape. Your mind struggled to focus on any one thing, and it was hard to hold onto your anger, like this. 

“It is impolite, to come in like this, but I need. And I can tell you do too.” He walked towards you, and leaned over you. Your conflicting feelings about the situation caused you to hesitate. You leaned back, your back meeting your sheets, and your knees bent, as if your legs could stop him from advancing. You were right, in that they would not, because a moment later, he was crawling over you, forearms flat on either side of your head. “I will leave if you ask it of me, my dear. But I ask that you let me pleasure you,” he whispered to you. His sharp teeth clacked as he glanced over your form. “Let me relieve us of this.” 

One of his hands brushed some of your damp hair from your forehead, and the look on his face nearly flat lined you. He looked so strange. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was. His eyes were soft and gazing at you with some unknown feeling gleaming in them. His mouth was slanted, and his teeth glittering in the low light — Your train of thought halted as you realized he wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t smiling. What the fuck? What could have done that? Your eyes widened, and you could only stare as his thumb strayed to your lips and tugged at the bottom lip. 

“What do you say, my dear?” His gaze caught yours, and you could barely breathe.

“I hate you,” you said. “I hate you, especially for this.”

Something flickered across his face, but he didn’t pull away. “I know, mon cœur. You have many reasons, but this isn’t about that. I merely wish to ease our suffering. Your suffering.”

You wanted to cry. How fucking dare he? How dare he be so terrible on a daily basis, and yet so kind now? You wanted to scream. You could feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. It felt so unfair. But you were desperate, and he was offering to touch you, something he didn’t like to do. You knew his reputation, his dislike and disregard for things of a sexual nature, and yet here he was, crossing that boundary with you. (Something in you hurt, knowing that someone who hated him would be crossing that line with him, not someone who loved him or cared for him in any capacity. Maybe that was his Hell). 

“Fine. Fuck. Fine. We can fuck, just, I don’t know. No kissing. And I uh, I’d like to be on my belly.” You didn’t want to look at him. (You knew it was the thought of him that got you off so many times, but the idea of really seeing him, bothered you in a way you couldn’t explain). His face twitched, but he nodded. 

“I understand, ma bichette.” He pet your hair, again, and rubbed a thumb across your forehead, and he took a deep breath in. “Alright, dear, ass up.”

Your eyes widened, and you gulped down the little moisture in your mouth. With deep, steady breaths, you turned over, maneuvering on the bed with twitching limbs. You pressed your chest against the bed, aching at the tenderness in your breasts. Your hands held onto the sheets tightly, and your ears twitched and pressed flat against your skull. Your tail sprung straight, and you could hear Alastor let out a breathy chuckle. The sound of clasps and zippers coming undone made your tail wag, and you could feel one of his hands swat at the fluffy bundle of fur at the base of your spine. 

“Excited, dearest?” His voice carried in the quiet room. You couldn’t reply with words. You were so conflicted. You hated him acutely, and yet here you were. Something akin to giddiness was building in your chest. Your tail wagged harder. You hoped he didn’t take it as an answer. 

You could feel his warm body lean over yours a moment later. He was so much bigger than you. It was clear with how wide his shoulders were, and how his long legs cradled yours easily. One of his forearms settled beside yours, and his face rested in the crux of your shoulder. Sharp teeth lightly grazed the skin there, while hot breath fanned over your back. Soft touches on the swell of your ass, creeping over your hip, and then cupping your mound softly. (How could he be so soft in this, and yet so harsh? Your mind was buzzing so loud). 

“Stop thinking, mon trésor.” His finger grazed your clit, and your mind went quiet. Oh, you had forgotten what it was like being touched by someone else. 

His fingers moved with focus from there, and your legs twitched. You huffed, and closed your eyes, letting the sensations fall over you. Soon, with the gentle touches getting firmer, and more precise, your thighs were getting slick. Small sounds left your clenched teeth. (It felt good, but the petty part of you wanted to deprive him of the satisfaction of your noises). 

Alastor’s hand moved, and suddenly one finger was sinking into your heat. You groaned, and your back arched. 

“Oh, continuer ma chère. Je veux vous entendre.” His voice is coarse, but his finger curls, and you can’t even try and translate his whispered words. Your body trembles as he slips in a second finger. His thumb catches your clit, and your mind is a muddled mess. Your resolve to remain silent shatters, and your voice leaves your throat with no control. 

“Oh, Alastor,” you say. Your eyes flutter, and you clench down on his fingers. He grunts, and thrusts them a little harder. 

“When you are ready, my dear, come for me. And then we can move on to the main event.” His words attempt for nonchalance, but the way he struggles to get them out has you internally laughing. It stops when his erection, clear as day, rubs against your ass. Your hips twitch, pressing against him. “Oh,” he grunts. “Not yet dear.”

He twists his hand, and presses his chest against your back. His hand on the bed grabs at yours, and he intertwines your fingers. Teeth scratch at your shoulder, and the sudden flood of sensory information sends you over a line you didn’t know you were near. 

“Ah! Alastor,” You cry, and fire flicker up your core, and in your veins. You clench hard on his fingers, and his ever present static swells in response. (Although, with how much your hands and face tingle, it could be in your head). 

“Oh, yes.” His head settles against your shoulder blade, and his hand slowly pulls from your core. His wet fingers graze your hip with soft touches, and the hand holding yours rubs softly. “So good for me, dearest. My doe. So good.”

Your chest aches, and you want to cry. How fucking dare he hit the fucking nail on the head? Your breath hitches, and you have to work to not cry. 

“Oh, my dear.” He sits up, and the loss of his heat nearly makes your tears fall. You can’t fathom why you’re suddenly emotional, but it won’t waver in its intensity. His face settles in your sight line. “Are you alright, dear?” His lets go of yours, and cradles the back of your head. “Did I hurt you?”

You want to cry. Fuck him. Fuck this. How dare he. A tear slips before you can stop it, and his eyes narrow, something nearly concerned looking, crossing his expression. 

“No. Fuck you. I hate you,” you can barely finish the sentence before a hint of a sob leaves you. “I hate you. I hate you. Just fuck me already.”

His brows furrow, and the red of his eyes glints as he manages a nod. “If that’s what you desire,” he says, and then he’s behind you again. 

His hands are on your hips, and you hear skin against skin, and then he’s gently prodding you with the thick head of his cock. Alastor presses his cock into your soaking entrance slowly, and you worry about his size for a moment. But then, he’s pressing more firmly, and your thoughts halt. Electricity is shooting up your spine as he sinks into you. You internally thank him fro prepping you with his fingers, because he’s packing more than you would have expected. 

A sharp breath from him, and then his hips snap against yours. “Hah, sorry, dearest.” His breaths are rough, and you feel his hands squeeze your hips hard. “I had intended to go slower, but this is-” He bends over you again, and his chest is against your back, and he’s grasping at the sheet with you. “You’re so good, my dear. Better than I could have ever-”

His hips snap again, and your body jolts. You gasp as he presses his hips against your ass, pushing as far he can get. You feel so tight. Everything is hot, and all you can think about is him. Your tail brushes against his belly as he starts to set a rhythm. All the pain you had been in, and you were starting to feel like it might have been worth it. 

One of his hand wraps around your waist, over your breasts, and his hand settles on your neck. “Let me know if you wish me to stop,” he huffs, and then he’s squeezing your throat, just slightly. 

You mewl, and roll your hips against him. “Oh yes. Little doe. You are so good for me.” The way he says makes you moan again, and you huff as he squeezes your throat again. 

The pace he sets is just under what you need, and it makes you hate him more. Part of you knows what he’s waiting for, and you dread it. It’s within mere moments, though, that you cave, and open your mouth.

“Alastor, please,” you say. Your voice is weak, with how hard it is to take a full breath. Your body is pressed into the mattress, and with the stinging breaths you attempt to take with each thrust, and the light squeeze of his hand around your neck, you struggle. 

His hand loosens, as if he can read your mind. “What is it, dearest,” He asks. “Use your words. I know you can.”

You sigh, and nearly yell at him when his hips stop, giving you time to speak up. You roll your eyes, and nearly beg, “Please, just a little faster.”

You can hear the smile when he responds, “Of course, my doe,” and then his pace starts up again, faster, and just a tinge harder, than it had been before. Your toes curl and your hands grasp at the sheets. 

That heat was growing again, low in your belly. Your thighs were aching, and your back was as arched as you could get it. Sweat was dripping down your back, and all you could think is that you wanted more. 

“Alastor,” you moaned, and grunted back. As you clenched down on his cock, the heat grew, and you could feel tight wires wrapping around your core.

“Oh, ma biche, tu es si bonne pour moi.” His fingers found your clit again, and he rubbed with focus. “So good. You are so good.” He kept repeating it like a mantra, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

The wires snapped, and your body went white-hot. You couldn’t see, and you stopped being able to hear more than garbled syllables and the rhythmic thumping of the headboard against the wall. 

Your body went taut, and you clenched down. You could hear his voice grow sharp and ragged, but nothing more as he kept thrusting. 

When you finally settled enough to focus your hearing, you could hear Alastor muttering to himself. And then he went still. “Do you want me to leave my seed in you, or no?”

Your breath caught. Fuck, you hadn’t thought about that. Without thinking too much, you whispered, “In.” 

You watch one of his hands tighten on the bed, sharp claws piercing the fabric. (you’d make him replace it for sure, jerk). Without much warning, he starts his pace again, his thrusts nearly brutal. His grunts and murmuring start up again, and it’s only moments before you feel him twitch, and then heat filling you. He curls around you, head pressed between your shoulder blades. 

You stay sitting like that for a few minutes, before he slowly extricates himself from around you and pulls his cock from your slick entrance. When he returns with a warm, damp rag and cleans you up, you refuse to make eye contact. When he picks up the dirty sheets, and bring you clean ones, you stare at the floor. It’s when he brings you water, and tucks you into bed, you finally look up at him.

“I hate you,” you tell him. 

His face is neutral, and he nods. “I know.”

“This changes nothing,” you say. 

And he nods, letting his normal smile pop back on his face. “I know.”

Hi, please let me know how this was? I'm really awkward about this kind of stuff, and it makes me a tiny bit anxious. Anyways! I hope you liked it. Should I add an 18+ taglist? Also, I have a few asks and stuff that will be posted soon. House hunting has been going terribly. The market is awful, and I am just sad :(

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #bun's short fics #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic #alastor x reader smut #smut #hazbin hotel smut

[matchakuracat]

chronically ill/physically disabled people, how do you deal with doctors appointments? what do you say/do to advocate for yourself? im autistic and not diagnosed with a chronic illness yet and i really struggle to know what to say to get them to listen to me and understand so that i can get the help and care i need. even if i bring someone with me, they also need to know what to say and i don't know anyone who understands well enough to explain to the doctor for me, which means that i have to tell them what to say before going. but that's the problem since i just don't know.

i have chronic joint pain that ive had for years but has only gotten worse over time. i also have hypermobile knees which are the worse they've ever been right now. i'm chronically fatigued and barely have the energy to eat and do basic hygiene. i have a few friends that i talk to fairly regularly and im very thankful for them but i still struggle so much with maintaining a social life when i cant even maintain my own physical wellbeing. i only go outside when i absolutely have to/when my pain is low enough and i have enough energy. on average i probably leave my house about once or twice a week, usually to go to medical appointments, to an internship i have once a week or to go grocery shopping. i usually try to do both at the same time if i can (like going grocery shopping after my internship) but most of the time i have to ask my parents to get me groceries since i dont have enough energy to. all i want is to be able to go outside just to take short walks and enjoy nature and the fresh air but i can't do so without the right treatment/a mobility aid. everything im doing right now is bordering the line of too much. im constantly tired and overwhelmed and everything feels like a struggle, even the smallest tasks most people do everyday without thinking twice about it.

i have almost only had bad experiences with doctors and other medical professionals like physiotherapists, which has given me a lot of extra anxiety on top of my already pretty bad social anxiety. i really struggle to make appointments and even more so to go to them, and when i bring myself to do so i really struggle to express myself and explain how i feel and how i want them to help me. i almost always get shut down and offered no actual help with any of my problems. i just don't know what to do anymore.

if anyone has any advice i'd really appreciate it. i know that i can't give up because my life right now without accommodations is too miserable, but i also don't know how to move forward.

sorry if this was hard to understand. i really tried my best to explain but im having a bit of a hard time expressing myself right now due to feeling worse than usual.

#chronically ill #chronic illness #autistic #actually autistic #physical disability #physically disabled #mentally and physically tired #chronic illnesses #chronic pain #chronic fatigue #undiagnosed chronic illness #undiagnosed chronic pain #cripplepunk #crip punk #cripple punk #chronic illness rant #disabled #actually disabled #disabled rant #mobility aid #mobility aids #medical gaslighting #doctors appointment

[chaotic-toasters]

Gone

Cortnee Vine x Reader (taken from my Wattpad)

ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST

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

"Y/N, you good?" Kyra's usual mischevious grin was gone, replaced with a look of concern that was quickly mirrored by Charli. "You seem out of it."

It took a moment for you to realize she was talking to you, eyes snapping up to meet hers. "Uh– yeah, yeah, I'm... I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" the Gunner's voice was soft as she placed a hand on your shoulder. "It's okay to not be okay."

"I'm sure," you insisted, shrugging her off. "You and Charli have fun."

You weren't fine. That much was clear to anybody with working eyes. You'd come down for meals, only to eat half of the amount you should have. You'd train, only to act like a robot who didn't know how to have fun. You spent hours cooped up in your room, only coming outside when Mini and Steph physically dragged you out. It was unhealthy, and everyone was starting to worry.

"Y/N?" Macca questioned, sitting down next to you. "What's going on with you?"

You glanced around briefly, taking note of all of your teammates gathered around the sofas.

"What is this? An intervention?" you joked dryly. "I'm just going through something small. I'll get over it soon, don't worry about it."

"Y/N, if you're going through something, you need to tell us," Sam chided. "We're—"

"We're a team, and a team is family, blah blah blah," you rolled your eyes. "I know. But I told you it's fine."

"It sounds stupid, but it's true," Mini crossed her arms. "So are you gonna tell us, or are you going to keep suffering alone?"

"I think I'll keep it to myself, thank you," you stood, patting your knees. "I'll see you guys later."

"Sit," Steph growled, forcing you back down. "Tony's already worried about you, but we've told him we'll handle it. Do you want us to get him involved?"

Your nostrils flared. "You wouldn't."

"We will if you don't open your fuckin' mouth and talk," the Defender glared. "You know I'll do it."

You were silent.

"Come on, Y/N, just tell us what's going on," Cortnee pleaded. "We're your friends."

Friends. Something you didn't want to be with the Sydney FC Winger. Since the first time you met her, and she'd smile shyly while offering you her hand to shake, you'd fallen for her. Hard. And it hurt. Because you knew she didn't feel the same. To make matters worse, she already had a girlfriend who she was happy with. Much happier than she'd be with you.

"Just... mind your own damn business," you retorted weakly, attempting to shake Steph off you. "I can handle my own problems."

"Your problems are our problems," Mini reminded you. "If something is bothering you, we're here to help."

"You and Steph," you nodded to the door. "No one else."

You stood first, leading your two mentors outside.

"Well?" Steph placed her hands know her hips.

"I like Cortnee," you blurted. "I— um..."

Mini raised her eyebrows. "Which one?"

"Uh... Vine."

"Okay. Continue."

"I've liked her for years," you swallowed. "But she doesn't like me like that. And she has a girlfriend. It's hard to— to see Cortnee when... when I know I'll never compare to her."

Steph and Mini shared a look.

"Come here, kiddo," Steph said gently, opening up her arms. "It'll be okay."

You slumped into her warm hug, crying softly into her shoulder. You didn't know if you should have been glad or upset that they didn't tell you to confess your feelings to Cortnee. That meant that your suspicions had been correct, and that she didn't feel the same, but that also mean your suspicions had been correct. A total catch-22.

"Why don't you take a nap, kiddo?" Steph whispered, caressing your forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

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

"I'm not gonna lie to her, Sam," Steph's voice was quiet. "I can't give her false hope. It's not like she believes it, anyway. Cortnee sees her as a friend. Nothing more."

"I just feel bad," Sam mumbled. "Are you sure there's nothing we can do?"

"I'm sure," the Defender confirmed sadly. "If she tells Viney, then things'll probably be awkward for one of them or both of them. If she doesn't tell Viney, then she has to keep her true feelings bottled up for the rest of her international career."

"No, I don't," you said suddenly, startling the the two captains. "I have a way out. And as much as it hurts to take it, it'll hurt more if I don't."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked worriedly. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just as Dutch as I am Australian," you refused to meet both of their widening eyes. "I'm eligible to play for the Oranje Leeuwinnen Vrouwen."

"What?" Sam was dumbfounded. "But you can't... we're your family!"

"If you and Kristie both played for the same national team, but Kristie was in a relationship with someone else and didn't love you back, would you still want to play with that team?"

Her silence spoke volumes.

"It's been quite the ride," you stood, offering a faint smile to both Sam and Steph. "Thank you both. I don't know when my transfer will be approved, but... I can't see Cortnee anymore. It hurts. A lot."

Sam looked ready to protest, but Steph instantly wrapped you in a motherly hug. "I'm so proud of you. You're gonna do great things. Make sure you call me though, yeah?"

You swallowed. "Yeah. Could you—could you do me a favour?"

"Of course."

"Tell all the girls that—" you sucked in a breath. "Tell all the girls that I've loved every minute of this journey with them, and that it's none of their faults I'm leaving. Could you—could you tell them the truth? The whole truth? I would, but I can't be there to see Cort's reaction. It would kill me."

Sam nodded, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. "Good luck, Y/N. We'll be cheering you on, always."

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

"Thanks, Tony," you shook hands with the manager gratefully. "You've been great."

"You as well, Y/N," he stated kindly. "Just remember that you've always got family in this team. You can come to us if you've ever got a problem. The Matildas are behind you."

Your lip wobbled. "I'll see you around, boss."

"Have a good one, Y/N."

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

"As of today, Y/N will no longer play for Australia," Steph's voice shook slightly. "She'll be transferring to the Netherlands for the foreseeable future."

The room was dead silent.

"What?" Ellie was the first to speak. "Wh—why?"

Sam lowered her head. "She fell in love."

"With who!?" Cortnee looked upset. "She doesn't even have any Dutch teammates!"

Mini shook her head. "She didn't fall in love with a Dutch player."

"Then who—" Cortnee's eyes widened. "She likes one of us? Who?"

That's when it clicked for everyone else. The longing glances, the overly kind gestures, the touches that lasted just a bit too long; you loved Cortnee, but she hadn't even realized you liked her in the first place.

"Oh, Viney..." Lydia grimaced. "Poor Y/N."

"What is it?" the Winger was clearly starting to get annoyed that everyone knew something she didn't. "Just tell me already!"

Steph, Mini, and Sam all shared a look.

"Cort, there's no easy way to say this, but—" Steph felt as though there was something caught in her throat. "Y/N loved you. But she knew that you didn't feel the same."

Cortnee's breath hitched in her throat. She was suddenly taken back to a night at one of last year's training camps.

"Hey, Viney?" you started, slipping your phone into your pocket. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Shoot."

"Are you happy in your current relationship?" your tone was innocent.

She smiled. "Yeah. Char's so sweet, how could I not be happy? I could totally imagine a future with her."

Something in your eyes had shattered. That much was clear to her now. But she'd been too preoccupied thinking about her girlfriend that it had slipped her mind.

"Oh, Y/N..." Cortnee's voice was barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You deserve to be happy," her head snapped up at the sound of your raspy voice. "Who am I to take that away from you?"

"Y/N—"

"Thank you, girls, for my time here," you smiled weakly from the doorway, meeting each of your former teammates' eyes, though you struggled to meet Cortnee's. "It's been fun. I'm glad to have met all of you, to have shared the pitch with you, and most importantly, to become friends with all of you. I'll see you soon."

And just like that, you were gone.

#cortnee vine #Cortnee Vine x Reader #angsty angst #angst #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #matildas #australia wnt

[cassolotl]

UK government planning to scrap a major disability benefit

I'm only just scraping by and the government are proposing to take away PIP (a disability benefit), which would be HALF of my income wiped out.

"Reforms to personal independence payments (PIP) could include stopping regular cash payments, and instead offering claimants one-off grants for things like home adaptations." -- "Disabled people face end to monthly benefits cash", BBC News, 29 April 2024

And:

"The plans, which will be consulted on over the coming months, also include proposals to “move away from a fixed cash benefit system”, meaning people with some conditions will no longer receive regular payments, but instead access to treatment if their condition does not involve extra costs." -- "People with depression or anxiety could lose sickness benefits, says UK minister", Guardian, 29 April 2024

That's what the NHS is supposed to be doing...

Genuinely absolutely terrifying.

Can anyone living in the UK join in with an (hopefully!) overwhelming cascade of unique emails to their MP opposing this? WriteToThem.com makes it very quick and easy.

They're proposing to replace it with one-off grants that the individual can apply for, which is absurd and horrifying, so feel free to point out how that won't work as well!

Here's what I'm writing, and do not just copy-paste my letter/email, because that makes it less legit. Do your own thing, even just one sentence telling your MP that you're opposed is enough if that's all you can manage. Whatever you want to say is what your MP needs to hear.

Dear [MP's name], Today I learned that the government plan to scrap PIP, and maybe replace it with something like a one-off grant application process, before the next election. ("Disabled people face end to monthly benefits cash", BBC News, 29 April 2024: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cn0ry09d50wo) PIP is about half of my income (about 44%). I don't spend it on occasional large purchases, I spend it on countless things that are more expensive for me than they are for other people. PIP is in place to acknowledge, as it says in the above article, that disabled people's lives are more expensive than non-disabled people's lives by hundreds of pounds per week. ("Previous research from Scope suggests households with at least one disabled adult or child face an estimated average extra cost of £975 a month to have the same standard of living as non-disabled households." That's £225 per week, and the maximum amount of PIP you can get is £184.) So firstly, it could be argued that PIP doesn't even cover the additional expenses of the average disabled household. And next, the cost of implementing an alternative system would be worse for disabled people, totally unsuited to its purpose, and more expensive to run. Worse for disabled people: Currently PIP acknowledges that being disabled takes a lot more work to maintain a comparable standard of living, and as it's an amount of work that the claimant cannot sustainably do, they are given money so that they can pay someone else to do it. These costs are distributed across all living expenses, in addition to occasional one-off purchases of e.g. mobility aids. Having to apply for one-off payments for expenses would be more work on top of that, so if the disabled person isn't able to do it (which is very likely) they will either have to work less in their day jobs in order to spend more time applying for one-off grants, or they will have to also apply for one-off payments to pay someone to apply for more one-off payments. This is self-evidently a waste of energy and time, and totally impractical, as well as being counter to the entire point of disability benefits. It would also be extremely undignified for the disabled people, and arguably against human rights (right to private life and dignity), to have to justify each purchase to the government. Totally unsuited to its purpose: One off-grants are not suited to ongoing higher expenses such as having to buy more prepared food (e.g. carrot batons are more expensive than raw carrots and go off much more quickly). Does this policy assume that disabled people's PIP is only for things like wheelchairs and walking sticks? More expensive to run: The system for PIP applications is already fairly backlogged, in that my last application took over 6 months to complete. I was awarded PIP for 10 years. If every application for a one-off grant had to be accompanied by an application of a similar scale that wouldn't be workable, so presumably an initial PIP application like the current system's would still be required to qualify for the system in the first place, and then following that, numerous smaller applications for money (e.g. for taxis, pre-chopped veg, painkillers, specialist clothing, etc.) would be carried out per person per month. The disability benefits system would have to be scaled up significantly, and it would be much more expensive. It is far cheaper to give people a set amount of money based on their needs; it's the same money that you would be giving them in grants anyway, but without having to process each purchase/one-off application. I implore you to oppose this proposal. It is blatantly unworkable to the level of absurdity, but more importantly it is inhumane. I look forward to your reply detailing your stance. Many thanks in advance. Yours sincerely, [My name]

But, again, if you can't manage anything long or complicated like that, your best is good enough. Even if they're not all perfectly written and detailed, we want to bowl them over with sheer quantity of emails.

#disability #disabled #armchair activism #UK #UK politics #PIP #personal independence payments #DWP #department for work and pensions #disability benefits #activism

[chvoswxtch]

oi, matt! can i get a macchiato? mayhaps over ice if that’s what the barista has to offer today….

matt x assistant!reader at nelson and murdock is one of my favourite flavours ever. i just neeeeed your take on it.

you know I had to kick off the celebration with this slut (works for you or matty) <3 also just so you know I could've kept going with this forever but tumblr told me to shut up bc apparently there's a word limit on answering asks but you get the picture ;)

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

matt murdock is an hr nightmare

when foggy mentions that nelson & murdock could desperately use an assistant since karen is now at the bulletin, before matt even has a chance to speak, foggy is warning him to keep his dick in his pants

and when matt pulls that face (you know the one, the "she wanted to teach me" look of faux innocence) foggy reminds matt that not only is he a whore but he also has a history of being tempted by forbidden fruit (he probably fucked all the female interns at landman and zack, and then there's karen who he would've slept with if frank & elektra hadn't shown up but that's a different story for a different day)

matt does the lil "i cross my heart" thing and swears to foggy that he won't get involved with the new assistant

he also makes this promise to himself bc let's face it he's a human disaster who's life is constantly falling apart and the last thing he needs is drama that could've been avoided if he thought with the right head

but then the day of the interviews arrive and you walk in the room, and matt knows at that moment that he is completely fucked

your scent hits him first, something soft and subtle, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy office smell and the lingering assault of pungent perfume left behind by other candidates that had given him a dull headache

then it's your voice, god your voice, it's the most melodious sound he's ever heard. it's gentle but crisp, and your alluring intonation has him hanging onto your every word, especially his name that fell from your lips in greeting

touching your hand nearly does him in, bc getting to feel your smooth skin caress his rough palm makes it even worse. there's a an electric spark that tingles in his fingertips and shoots throughout the rest of his body, and he finds himself wondering if you feel it too, but then catches himself and quickly plasters on a professional appearance

it was one thing that every single thing about your existence drew him in, but the fact that you were also intelligent and well-spoken, deeply passionate and genuinely empathetic, while also quick to craft clever responses without your sharp wit coming off as ostentatious just made matt want you more

matt was uncharacteristically quiet while foggy asked most of the questions, to which you gave perfect answers, and occasionally chimed in with a few of his own just to redirect your attention where he wanted it: on him

by the end of the interview, foggy was sold on you, and so was matt, but for duplicitious reasons

matt tries so hard to keep his promise, but fuck do you make it (and him) hard. he makes a point to never be alone with you in the office. if a round at josie's is suggested, he makes sure foggy or karen will also be there. he tries to balance between being friendly while also being professional, trying to find the invisible line that crosses from innocent inquisitions to dangerous territory

he does his best not to initiate physical contact, which proves to be difficult, bc you're a hugger and always politely offering matt your arm to guide him whenever you go anywhere

you're so kind and thoughtful and treat him the exact way you treat everyone else and it makes him want to put his head through a wall bc every day that he spends with you makes this attraction worse and worse and he can't tell if it's purely physical or if it goes deeper than that

and then one day he just fucking snaps

matt has a really bad day. a lead he'd been working on for weeks ended up being a dead end, and matt had taken his frustration out on some petty thug in an alley, but it wasn't enough. he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, late at that, to a handful of voicemails from a pissed off foggy. it had been a grueling day in court, all of his senses were overwhelmed, and he had so much pent up tension in his body that he felt stiff

he was so wrapped up in himself that when he walked through the door of the office, he didn't realize he'd broken his own rule: never be alone with you

as soon as he realizes his mistake, he heads towards his office, returning your polite greeting with a grunt of acknowledgement. he hoped that you'd leave it alone, that you'd say something like you were just about to leave, and he'd be spared from you coming closer. but you being you, noticing every little detail and having learned to read matt, could tell something was off

you just wanted to help. you always just wanted to help, and matt loved that about you, but right now, it was only making this more difficult for him bc his self restraint was deteriorating

and then you gently touched his shoulder and matt let out a groan bc he could smell what you'd done the night previously. the scent of your arousal was still embedded in your skin even though you'd washed your hands several times, and the scent of soap was almost nonexistent as matt's nose focused solely on the delectable scent of your pussy on your own fingers

he'd made himself come many times to the thought of you over the last few months, but knowing that you'd fingered yourself last night possibly to the thought of him is what broke his resolve

matt didn't need his heightened senses to know you were attracted to him, that you felt something for him too. he knew it because he knew you, and sometimes you were obvious even when you thought you were being subtle for the sake of both your friendship and your professional reputation

before either of you could process what was happening, matt was devouring your mouth in a heated kiss, your blouse was halfway unbuttoned, just enough for him to pull down the cups of your bra to leave your tits spilling into his welcoming hands. your soft whimpers echoed around the empty office as he toyed with your nipples while assaulting your neck with his teeth and tongue

in record time you were bent over his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, panties caught around your calves, and matt was pulling down his zipper to free his fully hard cock

the immense relief he felt as he sank into you fully from behind nearly brought him to his knees. he didn't know if it was the heightened allure of having something he wasn't supposed to, or how perfectly your tight cunt enveloped his thick cock, but he quickly got lost in your warm walls like a dazzling labyrinth he never wanted to escape

you were so fucking wet that it was obscene the noises your pussy made welcoming his cock as he pounded into you over and over and over again. but his favorite sound was you chanting his name, desperately pleading for more, which he was all too happy to oblige

you took him so well, your pussy enveloping his cock in a greedy manner, not allowing him the chance to slip out despite how soaked you were. he reached as deep as your body would allow and fucked you relentlessly like a madman on a mission

his rough hands gripped your hips in a bruising manner, and he was completely lost in a fog of lust. it didn't take long for either of you to come undone and it finally clicked for matt that he wasn't the only one that had been depriving himself for the sake of not crossing a boundary when your cunt tightened around his cock before flooding him with your release

matt waited until the absolute last possible second, swiftly pulling out with a hiss as he replaced your pussy with his right hand, stroking his cock at an inhuman speed just a few times before coating your ass in ropes of his come

he collapsed in his chair, but not without wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down with him. the sound of heavy panting filled his office, and the air was humid and drenched in the scent of sex. matt nuzzled his face into your neck, hugging your back to his chest while the two of you attempted to catch your breath

he's able to pick up on the fact that your heart is still racing not bc of the incredible spontaneous sex, but also out of anxiety about what happens next, so matt decides to break the silence first

"I uh...know this is kinda backwards but, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?"

in conclusion, he's a fucking menace

#court's 4k followers celebration #court's 4k friends celebration #court's cafe #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock headcannon #matt murdock request #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil headcannon #daredevil request #daredevil smut

[luvfy0dor]

“Please Don't Cry ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; crying, Nikolais kinda an asshole

Description; The BSD men seeing you cry, whether it's their fault or not

A/n; hi guys :333 one more request until they're all finished!! It only took me 6 months to do what, 11? 12? I don't know, I'm really slow when it comes to reqs, so I'm sorry it took so long!! I've also decided not to change to a gray theme cuz I don't wanna feel like I'm copying anyone, maybe one day though!!

Osamu Dazai ★

• It's probably his fault in most cases, but for this scenario we'll assume it isn't. Your day has just progressively gotten worse, and you were at the point where any minor inconvenience or annoyance would set you off and make you cry.

ೃ⁀➷

You pushed open the door to your apartment that you shared with your boyfriend, bags in your hands ready to rip from the weight of the groceries inside. You huff and kick the door shut behind you, annoyed when it doesn't fully close and requires you to kick it one more time. You carry the bags to the kitchen counter and set them down rather aggressively, not minding the strength you put into roughly placing them on the surface while you turn to put them away and wait for your boyfriend to arrive home from work for once. You sigh with a hand on your hip and the other on your forehead, opening the fridge and observing your current minimal amount of food and get to stocking up. A few things make it into the fridge before you hear the door open again and your boyfriend call out to you. "Y/n? Home?" A hum erupts from your throat in response and he quickly makes his way to you, following the sound of your voice. "Hey, babe, how was your day?" He asks, grabbing a head of lettuce to hand to you. "Terrible, 'Samu, nothing tragic happened but like, all the little things, you know?" You say, shoving the head of lettuce into one of the bottom drawers of the refrigerator. He reaches over to grab the milk, but realized that the half-gallon wasn't completely full, and upon further investigation (lifting the jug up), he realized that the plastic had broken and milk was spilling out into the plastic bags, onto the counter, and down onto the floor.

"Oh, the milk broke." He says, taking a large, exaggerated step past you and over the milk to bring the half-gallon to the sink. You straighten your posture and stand up straight, head swiveling towards the counter with whiplash inducing speed. You felt your throat close up, making you unable to say anything in response. Before you knew it, your shoulders started shaking and your tears quickly followed that motion. You whimpered quietly into the palms of your hands which attracted Dazais attention again over the milk. "Aw, don't cry over spilled milk now!" He jokes, but when you give him an agitated glare and open your mouth to defend yourself, he switches up and pulls you in for a hug. "No, I was just joking, but it's okay! There's nothing to cry about, we can get more milk. Do you have any idea how it coulda happened?" He asks you, stroking your back. "M-might've put the bag down to roughly.." you say, sniffling and wiping your tears from your face. He gives a pitiful frown and kisses your cheek quickly.

"Well that just means you're too strong for your own good! Oo, see I knew there was a reason why I had to clarify I was joking, you could've broken my neck if I didn't." He playfully says, trying to cheer your up a little bit. You let out a shaky sigh and nod. "Yeah...I guess. We can go without milk for tonight, I'll get some more for tomorrow." You grab some paper towels from the roll on the counter and start cleaning up all the milk. He nods in agreement and pulls you into his body, pressing a kiss to your forehead and squeezing your shoulder. "Yeah, we'll live. We should get take out for dinner, I don't think either of us are really in the mood to cook." A little bit of weight is lifted off your shoulders, one less responsibility for tonight. "Okay, Chinese?" he nods and smiles. "Yeah. I'll call right now, you want your usual, right?" He asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You hum against his chest, ready to knock out and take a nap. His words blurred together as you felt yourself slipping into sleep, but with that you also felt great amounts of gratitude for your boyfriend for making you feel just a little better. Or maybe you just needed to cry a little, who knows.

Chuuya Nakahara ★

• Chuuya is no stranger to annoying co-workers and tiring missions, often wearing him down through the day, but sometimes he's unintentionally snappy. Don't worry, he's always quick to make it up to you.

ೃ⁀➷

Throughout the day, the texts between yourself and Chuuya had indicated that Chuuya was having a rather troublesome day, especially because of the frequent complaints followed by the facepalm emoji. You decided that you'd kick back with Chuuya and relax, opening a new bottle of one of his favorite wines and maybe giving him a back massage or something to relieve his stress. You eagerly awaited that familiar sound of his key in the door, and when you finally heard it, you stood up from your seat. In walked Chuuya, his appearance a little roughed up. He hung up his coat and hat without a word or glance to you, walking right passed you into the kitchen. 'That was kinda rude.' You thought to yourself, but you knew Chuuyas job was stressful and sometimes overwhelming, so you let him walk off on his own for a while. You knew where he was going and it didn't concern you, just to the balcony for a cigarette. You crossed your arms over you chest, hoping that he'd come back in a bit of a better mood. You turned on the TV and occupied yourself with that for a little bit before his familiar, light footsteps were heard coming back into the house. "Chuuya?" You called out to him. You could hear his loud sigh. "Yes?" His tone of voice was clearly agitated and disgruntled.

You were taken aback by how clear it was that he didn't want to talk to you right now, and you knew it wasn't personal, but you couldn't help but be saddened over it. "Are you alright-" you go to ask, but he quickly cuts you off. "Yes, I'm fine, y/n, just leave me alone. God..." His words were followed by the bedroom door closing. You were stunned. Your mouth hung agape for a moment before you had to close it to swallow the shock that closed your throat up. After prying your eyes away from the closed door, you averted your gaze to your feet, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You felt bad for crying, but what could you do? All you wanted was to make him feel a little better and he wouldn't even give you the chance to. He chose to take some alone time instead, which you didn't mind, but he didn't have to be so mean about it. You went into your hands, some of the tears falling through the cracks in your fingers and silently onto the floor. Your sobs became louder and audible to Chuuya, who laid face first on the bed. He felt a bit guilty too, he never once asked how your day was and for all he knew, your day could have been just as bad as his. He knew you only had good intentions, and he didn't need to shove you off like that.

He sighed and got out of bed, opening the door gently instead of swinging it open and walked into the living room again, frowning at the sight of you. "I'm sorry, doll, y'know I didn't mean it..." He whispered quietly, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned your head to look into his eyes, seeing the apologetic expression that painted his face. "Yeah, I know, but you didn't have to be so mean about it." He sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Yeah, I know, that was a dumb move. I just wanted some alone time, ill be better about it next time though, I promise." He says, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. "Wanna tell me 'bout your day?" He asks, looking over at you. "Thank you. It wasn't terrible, just bland and regular." You tell him, erupting a hum of understanding from him. "I can only assume you already know I had a rough day." He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I'm real sorry though." The smile from his laugh turns into a more neutral one, almost a faint frown. "It's fine, just don't let it happen again, I don't like it when you're annoying like that." You punch his shoulder playfully. He groans in response, laughing as he stands up. "I won't, promise." He says, tilting your head backwards to kiss your lips. "I do still want that alone time, though, so I'll see you in a little bit, alright?" You nod in understanding. "Alright." He walked back into the room, giving himself some time to do nothing more than exist. He didn't sleep and he didn't think, just existed. You stayed on the couch, waiting for him to return with open arms, happy to see him giving himself personal time instead of forcing himself to be around people, even if it was yourself. Everyone needs a break sometimes, and Chuuya was grateful that you understood.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor came home to you, and that was enough to make you sob your eyes out. Happy tears, ofcourse, but your days had been riddled with anxiety since he left. He knew you'd feel that way, and he was fully prepared to open his arms to you again with that faint smile.

ೃ⁀➷

You watched the helicopter land on the helipad with your heart pounding in your throat. Your fingers fiddled with the collar and fabric of your shirt as you waited for the propellers to come to a full halt and your lover to step off. Leaves, gravel, and dust alike all blew around your feet as the blades finally slowed and your boyfriend came into view. Your body tensed and almost started moving towards him on its own, but your anxiety stopped it, keeping you in your place. Your eyes scanned over his intact body and granted you a sense of relief when you saw no visible large injuries. He took notice of you and gave a small wave, walking towards you with a steady pace. You couldn't stop it anymore and all of a sudden you were moving towards him at an increasing speed. Before you knew it, your arms were once in their familiar spot around his torso and he was quietly chuckling. He ran one hand up and down your back and kissed your forehead. "Someone's excited." You nodded, feeling your tears falling down your face. It wasn't until he got a better look at your face that he noticed you were crying, and his smile widened. "You missed me that much, Myshka?" He says, tilting your head upwards to look at him.

"Obviously! You knew I would." You huff, sniffling and wiping your tears off of your cheeks, but they just kept on flowing. He laughs at you and pulls you back into the hug. "Well i'm home now, and you don't have to worry about me anymore. For now, atleast." Now he's already got you stressing over his next leave, but luckily you're able to push it away from your head in the moment and be grateful to breathe in his familiar scent again. You felt him place a hand on your head and exhale, his heartbeat being your favorite sound next to his voice. The feeling of his hands on your body was easily #1 in the category of touch, and his appearance was, to you, the very best sight. And his kisses, his lips, were by far the best taste. It had been so long until you felt his lips on yours, so you went for it again, cupping his face with your right hand and pulling him into you. He hummed and kissed you back, rubbing your hip with his thumb. When you pulled away, his face was pinker than before and his breathing unsteady. He swallowed before speaking. "Everytime I come back to you it's like adding gasoline to the bonfire that is my love for you." He says, looking into your eyes.

You couldn't help but find his words as silly as they were romantic and pulled him in for another brief peck. "You talk so formally all the time, it makes me giggle." You tell him, caressing his pale pink lips with your thumb. "It's better than the things I say that make you cry, yes?" He had a point. "Very true." He grabbed your hand and held it in his own while leading you away from the helicopter and to your car, more than ready to go home. "Your face is still wet from your tears." He whispers, wiping the remaining dampness from your cheeks with a smile. "Much better." You blushed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm glad you're finally back to wipe my tears for me." You tease. "Was a workout doing it all by my lonesome." He laughs at your remark and 'tsks'. "Well then maybe you should get more active or stop crying so much." He replies, a smug grin on his face. "Says you, the only arm movement I ever see you getting in is moving the mouse of a keyboard around." He shakes his head. "That's very untrue, you see me using my arms for other things rather frequently, actually." He insists. The sun shone down on his raven hair and gave him a halo-like highlight. How unfitting to the rest of the world, but sensible to you. "Fine, I guess so." You leaned your head on his shoulder as you continued to walk, finally liberated from the depression and anxiety that overcame you when he had left all that time ago.

Nikolai Gogol ★

• Nikolai doesn't mean to hurt your feelings with his teasing and jokes, but when you trip and fall face first into the pavement in front of a bunch of people and all he does is laugh with them, you can't help but cry out of embarrassment.

ೃ⁀➷

You walked along a sidewalk with your boyfriend, one hand holding his and the other holding a coffee. Your conversation was filled with mindless chatter as your stride stayed at a steady speed. Your eyes were flickering between him and the pavement in front of you as you were careful to watch where you were going. You saw the feet of many people walking passed you both, avoiding the states they were bound to give you and your clownish boyfriend. Something astonishing must have come out of Nikolais mouth at a point though, because you've never turned your head so fast to look at him and stare for long enough to not notice the tree roots that poked out of the ground far enough to trip you and land you right on your face with both coffee and dirt all over your shirt. All falls silent for a moment before you start hearing snickers and then the outrageously loud cackle of your boyfriend.

You pushed your body up off the ground, clearly embarrassed over the whole thing and shot a glare at Nikolai. "Really? You're just gonna stand there and laugh?" Your cheeks were hot and your heart heavy with both annoyance and fluster. "I'm sorry, dove, it was just so funny! That stains gonna take awhile to come out, though." He says, pointing out the big splatter of coffee on your light colored top. You can't help but scoff. "It was so funny that you couldn't even help me up?" He nods, exhaling audibly and wiping a tear of amusement from his eye. "But ofcourse! If I wasn't paralyzed by my laughter than I would have been the first to help you." He started walking back home along the paved path with you, going to grab your hand but furrowing his eyebrows when you snatch it away. He looks up to your face with an exasperated frown. "Oh, don't tell me that made you cry." You just sniffle and huff, letting your tears drip from your waterline. "Come on, don't be such a baby. It's just a material item, I can always get you a new one." He says, referring to the shirt. Your expression is one of confusion before you snap out of it and correct him. "It's not that, it's the fact that you just let me trip, fall, and spill coffee all over myself and let everyone laugh at me! You even laughed with them! That's so rude." You say, trying to cover the stain to no avail.

He blinks. "Oh. Well, I told you I would have if I wasn't laughing- I thought we were like that, we laugh when the other falls, you know?" He raises an eyebrow. "Okay, yeah, but not in front of other people." You say, chewing on the inside of your lip. "That was....oh my god, I'll never erase that from my memory." You say, still completely overtaken by embarrassment. He bites his cheek and grabs your hand before reaching over to wipe your tears from your cheeks. "I'm sorry." He tells you, leaning his head on yours. "It wasn't ever with ill intention, darling. We'll go home and I'll get you changed out of that ruined shirt and whatever it takes to make you smile again." He says, smiling and opening his portal to whisk the two of you away. Soon enough you were standing back in your living room with a new shirt already in hand. "See how quick that was? Can I take this off for you?" He asks, tugging at the hem of your ruined shirt. You sigh and speak. "I can take it off on my own, thank you very much." You roll your eyes and pull it off, but it's quickly replaced with the new one. He laughs for a moment at your discombobulated expression, but the noise quickly quiets. "I really am sorry, sweetcheeks." He says, leaning in to rub your noses together. You peck his lips and brush his hair from his face. "It's fine, but don't be doing nothin' like that again. That was so embarrassing." You say, averting your eyes. He hums. "Alright, as long as my dove forgives me!" He smiles and pulls you into a hug, happy with your decision to forgive him.

A/n; dawg I'm writing this in the tj Maxx bro forgive me if it sucks lol

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor #bungou stray dogs nikolai #nikolai fluff #gogol nikolai #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol #nikolai bsd #bsd dazai osamu #dazai bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #daxai x reader #bungo stray dogs chuuya #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya nakahara

[catsteeth]

The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 8 ✿:+ Moon Door.

1-2-3-4-5-6-7-

Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it. 

CW: MDNI, NSFW themes, VIOLENCE, misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, 

A/N: This is so late I'm so sorry yall- I was sick :-( 

Word Count: 3398

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧

You sat in a carriage as it rocked back and forth. You couldn’t help thinking of the first time you rode to Kings Landing with your father. And now you are going home. looked in front of you and saw the face of Petyr Baelish. That same twisted smirk he always had. 

You turned your face away from him quickly. You tried to lift the blind from the window of the carriage but Petyr stopped you, 

“Best you don’t, my Dear.” He said, his hand on yours, “If someone would see you they would turn you into the Lannisters.” You didn’t know which was worse, Lannisters or what scraps were left of your family in the Eyrie. 

You pulled your hand away from his, “The knights and guards of the Vale will know me.” You huffed.

“That may well be true, but that is why they have sworn themselves to our house.” You held back a disgusted frown at him, referring to your house as ‘Our House’, “They are sworn to keep you safe, even if that means to lie. To say they’ve no idea where you are.”

“Does Lyssa know I am coming.” You asked as you looked down at your hands in your lap, you picked at the skin around your nails.

“She knows I went looking for you, she knows I would only return with you.”  He grabbed hold of your hand. His consistent advances made you feel sick, but also, think of Sandor. Like what he’d have done if he saw this. “I would not have ceased my search for you til I found you.” 

“And how does she feel about that?” You asked, ignoring his advances.

“Should she not feel happy? Contented her husband wishes to see her own flesh and  blood safe?” He said with a smirk

“You see a particular side of Lyssa.” You said as you repositioned yourself uncomfortably in your seat.

“She has always been predisposed towards me.” You tried to conceal yet another disgusted expression, “It would be only fitting she saves her best self for me.”

“She's like a coin. One side is an entirely different being than the other.” That was true, she often switched from hot to cold within an instant. You always thought it was cause she was mad. It grew tiresome after some time.

“May I be curious? When you fled, what is it that you fled from, and what is it that you were fleeing to?” He asked, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

“I fled my marriage. I was fleeing for my family.” Technically the last bit wasn’t a lie. Which made it easier for you to sound convincing. 

“I see, to tell you the truth, that only makes my curiosity greater. Ser Cole told me you were not… cooperative in his efforts to bring you to me.” You smiled to yourself, stabbing a knight is not what you’d call cooperative either. 

“I don’t trust so easily. Any man could dress in silver plates and tell me he’s a knight.” You said, “And truth be told I do not see you as family.” You said leaning back into the uncomfortable cushion of the carriage.

“And what do you see me as?” He asked, his grip on your hand tightening 

You ignored him. “I want to see my family. My mother and my brother.” Not technically a lie either, only not in the way he thinks.

“I wouldn’t think you’d wish to see Lyssa. After what you’d said.” His grip loosened,

“Our blood is our blood, our name is our name.” You said, with no emotion.

“I must admit that is not all I am curious about. You fled in the midst of a battle, a great war. Not one person saw you, not one knight. That is all without mentioning that you managed to flee without a scratch to you. Completely unharmed. It would seem almost impossible without help. Strong help.” He questioned you,

“Lika is a strong horse, and fast. And I, a skilled rider.” You responded quickly,

“So I hear.” He smirked.

“Now I must be curious.” You said, “You described Tyrion bereft, positively. In your words.” You perched your lips slightly and looked down, somewhat saddened by your own words.

“He is. I have no reason to lie to you on such a matter.” He said, his smirk disappearing. 

“Tell it then, all of it.” Your eyes are sharp, and cold.

“Why burden yourself with another man's madness.” He asked, almost immediately annoyed by the question.

“To torment myself with my own guilt I suppose.” You shook your head,

“He was injured in the battle.” He huffed.

“Badly?” You interrupted

“Not as badly as they say. Deeply cut across his face.” He motioned a slash across his face, “Day after the battle, he demanded the city be combed for you. He was convinced that you were taken by some Baratheon men, that you might be in the city. Dead or alive he wanted you found. Once the city was clear of any sign of you he became convinced you were kidnapped, soon to be held for ransom.” You looked back down to your nails you picked at. Feeling guilty, but not enough to go back. “You certainly convinced him of your loyalty.” He chimed in, “Or perhaps he underestimated you.” 

“Perhaps both.”

As you approached the Eyrie, you were stopped when it was time to walk to the Bloody Gate. 

Petyr stepped out first, offering you his hand as you stepped out after him. You took it reluctantly.

Reminding yourself to play the part. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Meanwhile, Sandor had been captured by the Brotherhood Without Banners. 

While he was taken to an undisclosed location with a bag over his head, he could hear the banter of the men talking. But the sounds of them could not drown out the anxiety he had over you. 

A big part of him wanted to push you out of his mind, to focus on what was happening right then and now. Focus on getting out of this situation. But he couldn’t ignore the pit of dread in his stomach. 

His thoughts kept coming, over and over again, “where is she, is she okay, has anyone seen her?” 

It made him feel a certain kind of frustrated anxiety, knowing he couldn’t be near you, to be sure you were alright.

He was finally taken to some filthy tavern with an even filthier bag on his head. 

“What an uncommonly large person, how does someone capture such an uncommonly large person?” He heard while he was blinded by the bag over his head, until it was stripped. “Ah! Not a man at all- A Hound!” Thoros said, a man Sandor recognized instantly. 

“Thoros, the fuck you doing here?” He questioned with furrowed brows. 

“Drinking and talking too much, the usual.” Thoros said drunk.

Another man who had captured Sandor spoke up, “There was another with him… A woman.” Sandors gaze dropped and went towards the man who spoke up, a soft groan leaving his lips. 

“You sure about that?” Thoros asked, taking another sip of his ale.

“Oh yes, no mistaking that.” The man said as the others snickered, making Sandor groan a little louder. He hated men talking about you, it made him want to break their jaw so they’d talk a little less.

“Your woman I’d assume, hard to believe but stranger things in this world.” Sandor rolled his eyes and groaned even louder. “Oh well, still a pretty prize, Lads!” Thoros shouted, making the men who captured him cheer.

Sandor saw two boys leaving the tavern, and behind them, a girl, the girl You loved so well and helped escape.

“Girl!” He shouted, stopping Arya Stark, “What in seven hells are you doing with a Stark bitch?” He questioned Thoros.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You had made it past the Bloody Gate, the Knights knew who you were even though Petyr introduced you as his niece, Lennora. They did not question you, and allowed you in. Ser Donnel Waynwood going as far to welcome you back as Lennora. 

After twenty more miles of travel, you’d finally arrived at the Eyrie. It felt like a small comfort at first. A sight you once truly believed you’d never see again. 

Stepping into the main room you noticed Lyssa seated on the throne. Seated where you should have been.

“Sweet child,” She called to you, rising from your throne “Come…” She said as ascended the stairs coming towards you, until she wrapped her arms around you. “My flesh and blood.” She said feigning happiness at your presence.

“Aunt Lyssa,” You said, feigning the same joy.

“You’re dressed in rags, my sweetling.” She said as she examined you, 

“Couldn’t stand to wear Lannister colors any longer.” You said cleverly, avoiding further questioning, distracting her with her own biases.

“Of course you couldn’t.” She gripped onto your shoulders tightly, “Those monsters tried to marry you off to that imp. The very one who killed my husband, your father.” Her grip on your shoulders tightened, “He did not force himself onto you did he?” Her eyes darted to yours, staring deepening and intensely in them.

“No- of course not. We had not wed yet-” You stammered to explain, caught off guard by such a question.

“Still, you cannot trust such men now can you?” She said, her grip loosening finally.

“No, you cannot.”  You said softly

Her hands ran from your shoulders to your hands, holding them tightly, “You’ve had a hard, and brave journey, my sweetling. You must bathe and dress.” She squeezed your hands once more before releasing them.

“Yes, Aunt Lyssa.” You said, slightly proud of yourself for containing such composure.

You nodded to your aunt and turned to leave, Petyr smirked at you as you passed him to take the back steps to your chambers. 

It made your stomach turn. 

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

In the hideout of the Brotherhood, Sandor was tried for his crimes. Trial by combat. 

As he fought, with brutality and efficiency, he could only think of you. He needed to cut this man down, to cut him down and get back to you. To find you. 

Soon enough however, he did. Nearly cutting the man in half. Lord Beric Dondarrion was dead, but only for a moment. 

As Arya shouted out and screamed, wanting him to be killed and tried for the murder of her friend.

Sandor couldn’t give this too much attention however as Beric arose from the dead before everyone. Within the cave. 

After such a scene, Sandor was pardoned and set free. 

“You’re pardoned, free to go. But all your gold is ours, to support the cause. It says it right there on that paper, once the wars over you’ll be repaid.” The man said, giving him paper pardoning him of his crimes.

“Piss on that! You’re nothing but thieves.” He barked loudly as he threw the paper onto the ground.

“We’re outlaws, you’re lucky we didn’t kill you, or go after that girl of yours.” Some man said, stupidly.

“Try it, archer, and I’ll shove those arrows right up your arse.” He said, his voice darkening. He couldn’t stand anyone speaking of you, even if they didn’t know who you were specifically. 

“You can’t let him go! He’s a murderer!” Arya screamed as Sandor’s head was bagged again as he was led out of the cave. 

“Not in the eyes of God. Go in peace Clegane, the Lord of Light is not done with you yet.” Beric said, as Sandor was led out. 

But Sandor did not go far. 

The sun had gone and the night had come. It dawned on him you could be anywhere. And he would have no way of knowing where. 

That was when he heard the brotherhood yelling out for Arya, and soon saw the girl running through the forest he was hiding in.

That’s when he realized, If he couldn’t find you on his own, he’d find another way, and he’d get some gold out of it as well.

He grabbed Arya as she ran away. Covering her mouth as she tried to scream. 

“Kick all you want, wolf girl. Won’t do you no good.” He said, dragging her off.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

While you bathed, you sat in the warm water, sinking deeply into the warmth around you. You closed your eyes, you tried your best to breathe, and calm yourself. 

Sandor was a strong man, a man who cut down five men, a man who cut his way through a riot, and then four men after that. You shouldn’t worry. It would be silly for you to worry. But still you did. 

As you looked at your body in the water, you could see the bruises left by Sandor. By his hands and his mouth. The thumb prints on your hips and the love bites on your sides and breasts. You ran your fingers over the prints, applying a bit of pressure to feel the lovely ache. It was like he was still with you.

You ran your other hand down between your legs, your other hand pressed down on the bruise again, to feel that ache, to feel like he was still with you.

However you heard a noise come from behind the door of the bathing chambers door. 

Uneasy, you got out of the bath, and dried yourself quickly and you clothed yourself in a thick, warm, robe. 

You opened the door, with caution, still uneasy. You stepped into the hallway, you hadn’t seen anyone. Even though you saw no one, you still felt uneasy. Like you were being watched.

You felt that familiar cold air flow through the castle, it only made your anxiety worse. ‘Tea would help,’ you thought. So you made your way to the kitchens, the only way to get to that from where you were however, was through the throne room,

As you stepped into the large room, you could feel the breeze worsen, the air colder, and the sound of wind louder. The moon doors were open, you knew what they sounded like better than anyone. 

What was worse, Lyssa was standing over them. Staring down into the nothingness below.

“How pleasant it must feel, to be clean, and back in your Arryn clothes.” She said, not looking at you, still peering into the vast nothingness below the Eyrie.

“Quite pleasant, Aunt Lyssa.” You said, cautiously 

“It was so kind of Baelish to return you to us. I asked him, why, why he wished for you back. It doesn’t make much sense, you’re the only thing that could possibly stand in the way of his position here in the Vale. Of Robin's position in the vale. And yet he feels responsible for you” Her voice felt sharp and unsteady,

“Lyssa-” You tried to begin

“Why does he feel responsible for you?” She interrupted you, her gaze shifting towards you quickly.

“I am your blood, I am part Tully-” You tried your best to calm her, to reason with her.

“Yes, Eloire Tully, The sister who hated him. Toyed with him, cruel and arrogant Eloire. You look just like her, are you toying with him too?” She said, her eyes were unhinged, and she stepped closer and closer to you.

An anger sparked inside you, “Don’t speak of my mother-” Your eyes and voice filled with disdain

“Did you fuck him is that it? Like those whores in his pleasure houses-”

You interrupted her “That is a vile accusation-” 

And she interrupted you, “So you know the vile things they do, the vile things he lets them do to him.” She said as she pulled at your robe, exposing your breast and your side, she could see the large bruise on your side and one on your breast. 

“I knew it.” She said her eyes widening,

You covered yourself quickly “Lyssa,” 

“Who did it? Who did you let ruin you, you whore!? If it wasn’t Tyrion who did it!? Unless you lied to me!” She began to grab you, grab your arms tightly.

You tried your best to pull away, “I fell from my horse, Lyssa-” You exclaimed 

“You think I’m a blind fool? Who did it? Petyr? Petyr did that do you? It makes perfect sense, You're no better than those whores in those pleasure houses, to him.” She exclaimed even louder, grabbing at you harder. 

“He never touched me-” You pleaded,

“Then who did it-”

“I fell off my horse!” 

“Lying whore!” She held onto your tightly and tried to push you towards the open moon doors, however the struggle between you and her was almost evenly matched. So she pulled out a dagger, raising it. But you were able to hold her arm off, “Why couldn’t you have stayed with them? Stayed far and gone! I won’t let you have him! You know what happens when people get in the way of Petyr and me?” She screamed at you as she continuously tried to push you towards the open moon doors, now at knife point. “My husband- your father, I killed him, all for me and Petyr!” She screamed, her admission however sparked a new kind of rage in you as you struggled back harder. No longer wishing to escape her grasp but to throw her into the moon doors instead.

“Lyssa.” Petyr said from the doorway, “Let her go,” He said calmly. Making the both of you halt,

“You want her? This ungrateful brat? I have lied for you and killed for you! Why did you bring her here? Why?” She sobbed

“I’ll send her away, I swear it.” Petyr said, 

Lyssa threw you onto the ground, cutting your forearm with the dagger she had in her hand. She dropped it to the ground as she sobbed.  

“My sweet wife. Silly wife.” He said as walked towards her holding her in his arms. You began to pick yourself up, your arm still bleeding.

“My whole life, I have only loved one woman.” He said, as she smiled. “Your sister.” He said as he pushed her into the moon doors.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The next morning, Sandor and Arya had begun their journey north. Sandor had hoped that you had done as he said and made your way there was well. 

As he ate, he offered a bit of the food to Arya, who simply pouted and looked away from the food. It reminded him a bit of you. 

“Sulk all you want. Truth is you’re lucky, you don’t want to be alone out here, girl. Someone worse than me would find you.” He said, his voice gentler than it was the last day.

“There’s no one worse than you.” She spit at him.

“You never knew my brother. Once killed a man for snoring. Plenty worse than me, there's men that like to beat little girls, men who like to rape them. Save your cousin from some of them.`` He said lightly, 

“You’re lying.” Arya said in disbelief. 

“Ask her. You’ll be seeing her soon enough, you just ask her who came back for her during the riots.” He restated confidently.

“Is that the Blackwater?” Arya asked looking at a large river they approached, 

“Blackwater? Where do you think I’m taking you girl?” He asked

“Back to King's Landing, Joffrey and the Queen? My cousin?”

“Fuck Joffrey, fuck the Queen. That’s the red fork, I’m taking you to the Twins.” He sounded somewhat offended.

“But why?”

“Because your mother and brother will be there, they’ll pay for you, and maybe even your cousin will be there.”

“Why would they be at the Twins?”

“Those outlaws you love so much never told you? The whole countrysides yapping about it. Your uncle is marrying one of the Frey girls. Your cousin’s probably heard about it too, she’ll be heading there.” 

“Why do you care if she’ll be there?” She asked, almost annoyed by his constant mentioning of you.

Sandor ignored her question, “Quit your yapping, and we might make it for the wedding.” 

NOTE: Hey all you cool cats and kittens,  I wish I had one of those iconic A03 author excuse notes like I got hit by a bus or was getting my PHD and that's why this chapter is late, but I don’t I was just a little sick and binged TV. But we are here now, this chapter felt a little clunky and it was definitely a challenge getting Sandor and Y/N to still feel connected to the same story. I am very excited for what I have planned in the coming chapters.  K love you, xoxo Bambi ꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱ Beloved Tags:  @dontfollowjuststuff  @helpmeescapethisreality

@merfic

@Broadsdrinkwhisky

@the-queen-of-sorrows

@eddiesbongwater

@not-neverland06 

@symonedoesart

@wyvernnest

#sandor clegane x reader #Sandor clegane #got x princess reader #sandor x reader #sandor the hound clegane #game of thrones x reader #sandor clegane #got x reader #got hc #game of thrones #the hound #got #sandor headcanon #sandor #sandor clegane fanfic #the hound fanfic #sandor fluff #sandor fanfic #sandor clegane smut #sandor clegane fic #sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane fluff #sandor fic #game of thrones fic #game of thrones fanfic #sandor clegane angst #sandor angst #sandor smut #game of thrones smut #smut

[frostyhelltime]

hihi!! i love your work, i was wondering if i could request hazbin hotel characters x male or GN socially awkward reader who stutters a lot? preferably the characters angel dust, husk, vox, and velvette please, thank you in advance! you don't have to do it if you don't want to ofc, take your time and stay safe :D

Aaaaaaaaa this is such a cute prompt! I would be glad to Nonnie!! Also love that Velvette is in here too. Love her but she's not quite as popular as some other characters so I was super excited to see your request!

Did I Stutter?

Ft. Angel Dust, Husk, Vox, and Velvette x male!reader

Angel Dust

Is genuinely trying his best to be kind to his boyfriend, really.

And he succeeds most of the time, but there was definitely a learning curve at the beginning of the relationship.

The awkwardness Angel didn't mind at all. Just thought you were that smitten with him that you got tongue-tied and acted a little awkward because he was just that hot.

However as the relationship progressed and you continued to stutter and are still a little awkward he brings it up.

Once he realizes that's just how you are he's a little dismayed that it wasn't him that made you do it. But doesn't mind it once he gets over that.

He's one of the more patient ones, for sure. When you have trouble getting something out he doesn't make a big deal of it or draw attention to your stutter, he just keeps his face normal and neutral as he patiently waits for you to finish, like you aren't struggling for words.

It actually helps a lot because you don't feel the pressure to get it right and get it right fast that you feel with others.

Although he does have a habit sometimes of intentionally riling you up or being extra seductive with you to worsen your stutter because he thinks it's cute when you stutter his name with wide eyes like that.

"Ya know we've been together awhile now, right? Ya don't have to be so nervous around me all the time. I mean the stutter is cute and it's adorable when ya trip over your words, and I know I'm hot, but I'm starting ta wonder if you're ever going to get used to me." Angel Dust laughs as the two of you walk through Pentagram City, Angel walking beside you. He has one of his hands holding yours, and the other wrapped protectively around your shoulders as you make your way through the streets.

A rare day off and all he wants is to spend it with you to recharge himself.

You huff a moment, trying to think of how to explain it. You hadn't realized he thought it was a nervous habit and not just...what you do.

"T-This is....h-how I normally talk." You eventually get out, speaking slowly to try and reduce the rate at which you stutter.

At that Angel Dust stops and frowns and you're worried that perhaps this quirk of yours is too much for him to deal with now that he knows it isn't temporary. But he just pouts and looks at you as he starts walking again.

"It isn't because I'm super hot? Ugh. How disappointin." He huffs, throwing his head back and looking up at the sky a moment.

"Ya lucky you're so cute. I'll pretend not to be sad that you weren't swooning over me this whole time." Angel Dust looks back down at him.

But in a rare show of courage, his boyfriend clears his throat and forces out something a little bolder than usual.

"W-Who said I w-wasn't?" A coy grin on his face just made Angel stop a moment again, eyes wide as he processed what he had said.

"Ya can't just surprise me with that kind of smooth shit when I'm not expecting it." He grumbles, but from how affectionately Angel grips his hand just a little tighter it's clear he's not actually upset.

He'll just get him back later tonight. He may not be the cause of the stutter, but he knows how to make it worse when he gets a little to close to him, hands running over his body as he whispers to him.

Husk

Another one who is also very understanding.

Literally never once brings it up.

When he figures out that's just how you talk, he shrugs it off.

But he does think it's cute when you stutter on his name when you're trying to get his attention.

But he'll keep that to himself.

When you're struggling he actually makes it really easy on you, busying himself with menial work behind the bar: Organizing bottles, messing around with a new cocktail he had an idea for, cleaning glasses. Whatever he can find so he isn't looking at you, but still waits patiently for you to speak. Him not staring at you, waiting for you to get the words out was actually really helpful.

He also doesn't mind the social awkward aspect. He's not exactly a social butterfly himself, or a people person.

Besides, he's served plenty of awkward people who relax a bit when they have some liquid courage. So those types of people never bothered him.

"A-A-And do you k-know what that, that, t-that- UGH." Husk's boyfriend shouts in frustration eventually. Husk looks over as you lay your head down on the bartop in frustration.

Husk just grabs a glass and pulls out a few bottles, busying himself with making...some sort of new concoction.

"Take your time." Is all he says, the only acknowledgement he gave that he recognized you were struggling.

He's purposefully not looking at you, letting you take a moment to calm and collect yourself without feeling the pressure.

You take a deep breath and try again, speaking slower this time so your upset doesn't make it worse.

"W-Wanna know....what that a-asshole said?" You eventually get out as he pushes the finished drink towards you to try.

"Oh I'm real curious." Husk says plainly, and to others around he might sound only as interested as a bartender normally is in their patrons sob stories. But you can hear in his undertone he does actually want to know.

"H-He said, w-with that cheap o-o-outfit, he's surpr-prised I, I, I...can even afford a drink!" You throw your hands up as you finally finish lamenting about the jerk you met last night when you decided to go clubbing with Angel Dust and Cherri.

Husk frowns a moment at the insult, not liking that he wasn't there to correct the guy. But he can at least settle for making you laugh as you take the first few sips.

He leans forward then, his elbows on the bartop as he lays his head in one hand and looks at you.

"You don't need to afford any drinks. You're fucking the bartender. You get 'em free." He smirks, holding back a laugh as he watches you almost immediately spit out that first sip, and watches you laugh for the first time since you sat down here in such a foul mood.

Vox

Surprisingly, genuinely the most empathetic about the whole thing.

When you first started dating him, he tried to help you. Lots of famous orators had stutters and they overcame them!

But he realizes eventually you don't want him to be so focused on fixing it, just help you get through it when it gets frustrating.

Once you get past that miscommunication, it's a lot smoother.

If you're struggling exceptionally bad he just pulls out his phone and hands it to you in a non-chalant manner so as not to draw attention to you, to let you type what you want to try and get across to him.

Genuinely scrubs social media down there of any shit-talking he sees people might do about 'Vox's stuttering mess of a boyfriend'. He controls pretty much all of it anyway. So it isn't the hardest thing.

He doesn't want you to see what some stranger who isn't worth anything is saying about you if it might make you feel bad.

The reason he is the most empathetic is because he does also have a tendency to stutter too, technically. When he glitches out, he can often stutter or repeat words and it's always intensely frustrating to him because it shows someone how he's feeling an intense enough emotion to glitch out like that.

Always does his best to retain as much control as he can when he glitches because of this, but when it's just the two of you he doesn't...really mind if you hear his computer equivalent of stuttering.

"S-S-Stupid FUCKING Val!" Vox yells as he throws some stupid object on his desk against the wall, narrowly missing you when you walk in to see him. His normal bright blue face is a bright and angry red and Vox is immediately simmering down, eyes wide when he realizes he almost nailed you with it. What had he even thrown? His eyes glance down and he sees it was a stapler and he winces. Yeah, with his strength and throwing that, that could have done a lot of damage if it had connected.

"S-Sh----iiit! I-I'm sorry!"

But Vox's boyfriend doesn't even seem bothered, just jogging over to him quickly and holding his hands, using his thumbs to rub circles on Vox's palms. Clearly trying to calm him down and...damnit it's working. The red begins to fade to blue once again as Vox lets out a deep sigh.

"W-What happened?" You ask him curiously, looking up at him.

"Fucking VAL happened, of course. Ripped apart one of my best news anchors because he found out they were fucking one of his favorites and he doesn't like to share. Now I gotta find someone else who is just as good or I'll be running the 6 o'clock segment until I do." Vox grumbles. He could just slap someone in there of course, but he hadn't built VoxTek into what it was today by accepting second best.

You tug him down, him eventually getting the message and leaning down to be within your reach more. You lean forward and gently place an affectionate kiss on his screen.

"H-How about....I or-or-order food to-to go? W-We'll sit here and...look at c-candidates." You suggest and Vox's face softens again, glad that although Val had ruined his nice relaxing dinner date with you, that he at least still got to spend time with you. Val couldn't ruin his night at least, it seems.

Vox smiles again, his normal exuberant and charismatic showman personality back on full display as he feels better with a plan in place.

"Hey I could always say screw it and let you have a whack at it." He teases, not even feeling bad about the cute look of panic in your eyes as you immediately shake your head no. He can't help but laugh and quickly shakes his own head.

"Kidding! Kidding! I want to still have a boyfriend by the end of tonight." He chuckles, earning him a gentle hit to his shoulder from you at his joke.

Velvette

Admittedly...the least kind about it...at first anyway.

She has little patience or time for things in general. So a stutter was actually a little aggravating to her at first. Until she realized one day she kinda thought it sounded a little cute coming from you.

It was something unique about you, and hey, fashion is all about being unique.

She almost certainly did make fun of you in the beginning before she developed feelings, and whenever Val or Vox bring it up to tease her about it, she winces.

Yeah....not something she's proud of now that she actually likes you and is dating you.

But once she gets past that hump, she's pretty accomodating...sometimes a little too much even.

But her heart is in the right place.

The easiest way she accomodates you is having a lot of conversations over text. Which isn't even an adjustment for her.

Plus it means she can re-read all your sweet words to cheer her up when Val fucks up her best model again. She thinks the world would be more peaceful is someone just fucking castrated him or something...

One of the ways she tries to be helpful and sweet to you but actually makes it worse is when you're trying to talk in a group of people, and when you start to have trouble, sometimes someone just starts to talk over you to move the conversation along.

And then she frowns, cocking her hips to the side with her hands on them.

"Uh? Excuse me. He wasn't done talking, yeah?" She shuts them up, giving you back the floor as your cheeks flush.

But now all the attention is on you and it makes it worse.

But her heart is in the right place, like I said.

She also doesn't care about the social awkwardness.

In her words "Doesn't matter how you are in real life, no one has to know if you don't post it online."

Plus, you're with her. She's plenty adept enough to navigate any social situations you have trouble with.

She's a bit tired of Vox talking over you while you all sat around and had cocktails with dinner. She knows it's in his nature, but that doesn't piss her off any less whenever she sees you sigh and give up on trying to say whatever it is you were trying to say.

"Oy, Box Brain! I know you love the sound of hearing yourself talk, but how about you let someone else get a word in edgewise, yeah?" She's not even trying to hide her annoyance and Vox just rolls his eyes.

"Don't you fucking roll your eyes at me! I'll start fucking up the signal of all your broadcasts if you don't shut the fuck up and let someone else talk!" She's getting just a bit more heated now, narrowing her eyes. You grimace and lean over, placing a hand on her arm to try and show that it's really okay. You loved that she fought so passionately for you...but not everything needed to be a battle.

Vox leans forward himself now, while Valentino just leans back, blowing out smoke and enjoying the show with an amused grin on his face. You certainly couldn't count on him to break this up.

"You wouldn't dare." Vox says with narrowed eyes himself, face closer to hers, and she snaps back at him without thinking.

"Did I fucking stutter?!"

Valentino is the first one to register the hilarity of what slipped out of Velvette's mouth, and he's almost spilling his cocktail from laughing so hard. It's only when he starts laughing that she realizes what she said and feels embaressment wash over her as she turns to you with wide eyes.

"Babes, I didn't mean-"

But you stop her before she can finish, smiling assuringly at her and rubbing her arm.

"I-It's okay....You gotta a-admit...It was pr-pretty funny." You laugh a bit yourself, and only when she sees you laugh does the tension leave her shoulders. She still feels embaressed...but at least you weren't upset.

"Hey, stop fucking laughing you two. It wasn't that funny." Velvette grumbles, hiding her face behind her cocktail as she takes a sip, feeling you press a kiss to her cheek to try and make her feel better as Vox and Valentino continue to enjoy Velvette's mistake.

#hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #vox #vox x reader #angel dust #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #Velvette

[ach-sss-no]

someone asked why i loudly asserted that the stewing rabbits bit of lotr is the opposite book vs. movie and i think it is time to move off of the giant reblog chain i'm making

The Premise: Sam, Frodo and Gollum are all doing the opposite of what they are doing in the book in some fashion or another

(first off: in the movie they abandon the stew and don't eat it. the book takes a lot longer with all of this, and they do in fact eat the stew, and I definitely understand the movie couldn't be as expansive with the pacing but it's just. funny to me. they don't eat the stew vs. they do eat the stew, there's your first opposite)

now. THE SCENE: Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit

(Small disclaimer/disclosure: I referenced the script instead of a movie clip for this, so there may be some nuance missed in visuals or whatever but I don't think it would be enough of a difference to matter and hopefully you will soon see why not)

Frodo

Starting with him because this is simplest.

In the movie, Frodo is just sitting there minding his own business when Gollum dumps dead rabbits in his lap. (Then he doesn't interact with the ensuing conversation at all)

In the book he's asleep when Gollum brings the rabbits and does not participate in the scene. Okay, so he's awake vs. asleep. Easy.

(Also, book Frodo didn't witness the conflict between the other two characters and had no opportunity to intervene, which creates an interesting 'what could have been', but I am digressing. We are only 10% of the way in. buckle up)

Sam

In the movie, Sam is passive and reacting. Gollum dumps dead rabbits in Mr. Frodo's lap oh no what do I guess we'll cook them

In the book, Sam is active and orchestrating events.

Sam decides of his own accord that he wants to address their dwindling supplies:

Sam had been giving earnest thought to food as they marched. Now that the despair of the impassable Gate was behind him, he did not feel so inclined as his master to take no thought for their livelihood beyond the end of their errand; [in case you forgot. Earlier on Sam was like 'we won't have enough food for the way back' and frodo essentially responds with 'the way back. oh you sweet summer child'] and anyway it seemed wiser to him to save the waybread of the Elves for worse times ahead.

Note: This is all very good reasoning by Mr. Samwise and an excellent example of why he's so necessary to the quest! Yes, staying alive is step one.

But Where to get food? In both movie and book Sam is taking advantage of his resources (dead rabbits acquired via gollum), but in the book he's way more proactive about it:

An idea struck him and he turned to Gollum. Gollum had just begun to sneak off on his own, and he was crawling away on all fours through the fern. 'Hi! Gollum!' said Sam. 'Where are you going? Hunting? Well see here, old noser, you don't like our food, and I'd not be sorry for a change myself. Your new motto's always ready to help. Could you find anything fit for a hungry hobbit? ' 'Yes, perhaps, yes,' said Gollum. 'Sméagol always helps, if they asks-- if they asks nicely.' 'Right!' said Sam. 'I does ask. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs.'

In this point in the book Sam has now:

Decided of his own accord that he has a problem and that he wants to actively solve it

Arrived at a solution to the problem without any outside help or suggestions

Commanded Gollum to go hunt

In the point in the movie Sam has done:

Nothing

I'm not exaggerating. In the movie the scene hasn't started yet.

In both book and movie, rabbits are acquired a little while later. In the book this is a nonevent because Sam requested and expected rabbits. In the movie, the rabbits unexpectedly appear, and Gollum says they are for the hobbits to eat (Sam doesn't even come up with the idea to eat them on his own!)

They are young. They are tender. They are nice. Yes they are! Eat them! Eat them! [He bites and tears into the raw meat.]

GOLLUM SHOWED HIM HOW TO EAT THEM LIKE A MOTHER CAT.

Anyway, in the movie, we just cut to Sam stewing the rabbits after that.

But in the book, Sam isn't done arranging things:

He thought for a bit, while he took out his knife, cleaned and whetted it, and began to dress the rabbits. He was not going to leave Frodo alone asleep even for a few minutes. 'Now, Gollum,' he said, 'I've another job for you. Go and fill these pans with water, and bring 'em back! '

'Sméagol will fetch water, yes,' said Gollum. 'But what does the hobbit want all that water for? He has drunk, he has washed.' 'Never you mind,' said Sam. `If you can't guess, you'll soon find out. And the sooner you fetch the water, the sooner you'll learn. Don't you damage one of my pans, or I'll carve you into mincemeat.'

So now Sam has:

Decided of his own accord that he has a problem and that he wants to actively solve it

Arrived at a solution to the problem without any outside help or suggestions

Commanded Gollum to go hunt

Lovingly watched Frodo sleep

Collected rabbits after they were provided and begun skinning them

Assigned Gollum to fill his cook-pans

Gollum leaves to do this new errand and Sam starts building a cook fire.

He was just stooping over his fire, shielding it and building it up with heavier wood, when Gollum returned, carrying the pans carefully and grumbling to himself. He set the pans down, and then suddenly saw what Sam was doing. He gave a thin hissing shriek, and seemed to be both frightened and angry. 'Ach! Sss -- no!' he cried. 'No! Silly hobbits, foolish, yes foolish! They mustn't do it!' 'Mustn't do what?' asked Sam in surprise. 'Not make the nassty red tongues,' hissed Gollum. `Fire, fire! It's dangerous, yes it is. It burns, it kills. And it will bring enemies, yes it will.'

Sam has just been given a completely sane and rational reason why a fire is a bad idea (they are in a dangerous area and can't risk attention!) (as well as a reason that is less pertinent- it looks like Gollum is afraid of fire, and he may have sensible reasons to be afraid of fire because it is dangerous, but this is not Sam's problem)

Sam addresses the 'it will bring enemies' thing

'I don't think so,' said Sam. `Don't see why it should, if you don't put wet stuff on it and make a smother. But if it does, it does. I'm going to risk it, anyhow. I'm going to stew these coneys.'

And Sam is like, nah.

Now Gollum gets upset that he's 'ruining good meat' by cooking it

Now Sam de-escalates

Now, now! ' said Sam. 'Each to his own fashion. Our bread chokes you, and raw coney chokes me. If you give me a coney, the coney's mine, see, to cook, if I have a mind. And I have. You needn't watch me. Go and catch another and eat it as you fancy -- somewhere private and out o' my sight. Then you won't see the fire, and I shan't see you, and we'll both be the happier. [He still managed to slip in a 'get out of my sight'] I'll see the fire don't smoke, if that's any comfort to you.'

In the movie he just insults the quality of the meat:

SAM What's to ruin? There's hardly any meat on 'em.

...which I suppose is fair in this alternate universe where the rabbits were just dumped in his lap, unwanted.

Then in the movie they skip to the taters conversation, but in the book, there's more!

Back to the book:

Gollum withdrew grumbling, and crawled into the fern. Sam busied himself with his pans. 'What a hobbit needs with coney,' he said to himself, 'is some herbs and roots, especially taters -- not to mention bread. Herbs we can manage, seemingly.' 'Gollum!' he called softly. 'Third time pays for all. I want some herbs.'

Gollum says no.

'Sméagol'll get into real true hot water, when this water boils, if he don't do as he's asked,' growled Sam. 'Sam'll put his head in it, yes precious. And I'd make him look for turnips and carrots, and taters too, if it was the time o' the year. I'll bet there's all sorts of good things running wild in this country. I'd give a lot for half a dozen taters.'

Now Gollum asks what taters are, gets a cryptic answer, and is offered a kind of food he has just expressed he does not want (cooked food) and again ordered to fetch herbs. Gollum declines.

'You couldn't say no to that.' 'Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, and keep nassty chips!' 'Oh you're hopeless,' said Sam. 'Go to sleep!'

The movie finally has some of the same words in almost the same place:

SAM PO-TAY-TOES! Boil 'em. Mash 'em. Stick 'em in a stew. Lovely big golden chips with a nice piece of fried fish…. SM�AGOL [i'm not fixing it blah] [Sticks out his tongue in disgust] Pbbbttt!! [so now he's just devolved into making fart noises] SAM Even you couldn't say no to that. [He takes a sip of the stew] SM�AGOL Oh yes we could! Spoil nice fish... [scrambles up close to Sam] Give it to usss rrraw... and wrrriggling! [That line is not in the book. every time i see it quoted i age a year] [Makes sickeningly happy face.] You keep nasty chips. [Hops away] SAM You're hopeless.

The scene here ends in the movie.

In the movie, Sam has:

Watched rabbits be thrown at Frodo

Started cooking them after being all but commanded to eat them

Had some banter with Gollum

Left the scene without eating his stew

Sam is a passive character who is not orchestrating events, but rather reacting to them. A character being passive is not in and of itself a bad thing. I am only pointing it out because it is different from the book and a big change to this specific character (wanted to mention that because some people really don't like passive characters in general, I think they have a place. Frodo is rather passive in this scene but he obviously has a purpose.)

...In the book, Sam stews the rabbits for an hour and then eats the stew with Frodo

Frodo yawned and stretched. 'You should have been resting Sam,' he said. 'And lighting a fire was dangerous in these parts.

Wow! Was it? I feel like someone mentioned that earlier.

'Gollum! ' Sam called and whistled softly. 'Come on! Still time to change your mind. There's some left, if you want to try stewed coney.' There was no answer. 'Oh well, I suppose he's gone off to find something for himself. We'll finish it,' said Sam. [...] We don't see eye to eye, and he's not pleased with Sam, O no precious, not pleased at all.'

Whyever not?

To sum, book!Sam has:

Decided of his own accord that he has a problem and that he wants to actively solve it

Decided he's going to assign Gollum to the problem (This also demonstrates Sam's interpersonal intelligence. He notices what Gollum's capable of and understands intuitively how it can be turned to something industrious and useful) (Sam has made some missteps in other areas which are in the next section)

Commanded Gollum to go hunt

Collected rabbits after they were provided (according to his request), and began skinning them

Watched Frodo sleep

Assigned Gollum to fill his cook-pans, specifically because he does not want to leave Gollum and Frodo alone together, which is sensible

Threatened to carve Gollum into mincemeat, while holding a knife

Watched Frodo sleep and reflected on his poor health

Skinned the rabbits and put them in stew

Been told a cook fire is a bad idea and declined to stop what he's doing. A character being told to stop doing something & continuing with it anyway is another way for that character to show agency.

Asked Gollum to fetch herbs and potatoes (was refused)

Foraged a few herbs himself

Eaten lovely stew (while lamenting that there are no onions in it, and no bowls to put it in ;_;)

Offered Gollum stew long after (hours after) Gollum got angry and left

...all because Sam initially decided he wanted to acquire and cook food, and then took every necessary step to make that happen of his own accord.

Sam is an active character with high agency.

He is also showing more care for Frodo here (watching him while asleep and fretting over his health, lamenting that he somehow made rabbit stew from nothing by using his resources (which do here include another character- people are also resources!) but he can't put it in a nice bowl for mr. frodo- there's just a lot more here, which is natural because prose is a more detail-rich medium. Not all of this would have fit in the movie and I'm not saying it should have.

Even allowing for time, however, I do think there would have been a way to collapse this scene to the needed time requirement and still have Sam in charge of it instead of Gollum.

The scene finally ends on:

Then he noticed a thin spiral of blue-grey, smoke, plain to see as it caught the sunlight, rising from a thicket above him. With a shock he realized that this was the smoke from his little cooking-fire, which he had neglected to put out.

Did anyone foresee this?

Gollum

In the movie, Gollum is foisting a gift on Frodo and forcing social interaction that he doesn't want.

In the book, Gollum wants to go away somewhere so he can eat and is pressed into reluctant manual labor instead

Gollum is a little different from the other two characters in that his personality and motivations are also completely different here. (Where as Sam at least still has the same goals of looking after Frodo and making food.)

The scene is in Sam's POV so what Gollum is thinking and feeling has to be inferred from his actions/words/tone, but he's not exactly subtle.

The movie scene starts off with Gollum turning up with rabbits. He dumps them in Frodo's lap. He makes a spectacle of himself. He starts mauling the corpses.

The book scene starts off with Gollum trying to slip away somewhere to eat in private.

That's another thing. Gollum doesn't demonstratively bite into things Gollum always slips away somewhere to eat in private. Earlier:

It was actually not long before Gollum returned; but he came so quietly that they did not hear him till he stood before them. His fingers and face were soiled with black mud. He was still chewing and slavering. [He didn't bring food back on purpose. He's still chewing because he only has six teeth.] What he was chewing, they did not ask or like to think. 'Worms or beetles or something slimy out of holes,' thought Sam. 'Brr! The nasty creature; the poor wretch! ' Gollum said nothing to them, until he had drunk deeply and washed himself in the stream. Then he came up to them, licking his lips. 'Better now,' he said.

(Emphasis added.. Imagine you just recruited a serial killer to your D&D-party-in-real-life and he silently turns up covered in mud and won't talk to you. It looks like he's been eating bugs. He won't speak. he won't tell you what he's eating.)

Back to the scene in question: Gollum's leaving. Sam flags him down and asks him to hunt.

'Hi! Gollum!' said Sam. 'Where are you going? Hunting? Well see here, old noser, you don't like our food, and I'd not be sorry for a change myself. Your new motto's always ready to help. Could you find anything fit for a hungry hobbit? '

He asks in an insulting and confrontational way. ('old noser' + 'Your new motto's always ready to help' reeking of suspicion)

To be clear, I'm not criticizing Sam whatsoever for disliking and being suspicious of the known murderer he's traveling with against his will. but the way he talks to Gollum does have consequences.

'Yes, perhaps, yes,' said Gollum. 'Sméagol always helps, if they asks -- if they asks nicely.'

Gollum is reluctant and asks to be treated politely. I don't find this response disproportionate or unreasonable. Consider what would happen if anyone talked to LOTR-era Bilbo Baggins the way Sam just talked to Gollum. The ash would still be falling from the sky.

Anyway Sam's response is to mimic the way he talks.

'Right!' said Sam. 'I does ask. And if that isn't nice enough, I begs.'

Gollum leaves, and is gone a long time. While he's gone, Sam gazes lovingly at Frodo, and - this is not directly relevant but I wanted to note it:

Gollum returned quietly and peered over Sam's shoulder. Looking at Frodo, he shut his eyes and crawled away without a sound. [Seeing that Sam and Frodo are occupied, Gollum slips away without interrupting, which is also a different vibe from 'assaulting Frodo with rabbits while he's just sitting there.'] Sam came to him a moment later and found him chewing something and muttering to himself

Look! There's a character arc happening in the background [but not in the movies] It will reach fruition at Cirith Ungol [in the books]

Anyway, Gollum is chewing on something so he's clearly taken time out to hunt for himself as well (note for context: He's disastrously underweight and has been complaining of hunger).

On the ground beside him lay two small rabbits, which he was beginning to eye greedily. 'Sméagol always helps,' he said. `He has brought rabbits, nice rabbits. But master has gone to sleep, and perhaps Sam wants to sleep. Doesn't want rabbits now? Sméagol tries to help, but he can't catch things all in a minute.'

Gollum has brought rabbits on command, and he's reluctant to hand them over. This is the direct opposite of bringing rabbits of his own accord out of nowhere and forcing them onto somebody.

'Now, Gollum,' he said, 'I've another job for you. Go and fill these pans with water, and bring 'em back! ' 'Sméagol will fetch water, yes,' said Gollum. 'But what does the hobbit want all that water for? He has drunk, he has washed.' 'Never you mind,' said Sam.

That was a reasonable question, asked politely and prefaced by 'yes I'll do it'. There's no call for a 'never you mind' and there's certainly no call for this:

`If you can't guess, you'll soon find out. And the sooner you fetch the water, the sooner you'll learn. Don't you damage one of my pans, or I'll carve you into mincemeat.'

Gollum does the work and is careful with the pans as requested.

He was just stooping over his fire, shielding it and building it up with heavier wood, when Gollum returned, carrying the pans carefully and grumbling to himself.

He set the pans down, and then suddenly saw what Sam was doing.

Gollum discovers that 'Never you mind' meant 'I am going to do something you find dangerous and terrifying' i'm pretty sure this is what he's seeing in his POV

He gave a thin hissing shriek, and seemed to be both frightened and angry. `Ach! Sss -- no!' he cried.

Gollum gets angry.

At this point in the movie, Gollum has:

Dumped rabbits in Frodo's lap

Told him to eat them

Played with the dead animals in front of Frodo

there's a cut to Sam cooking the rabbits- Gollum makes no comment at all on the safety or feasibility of a fire, but gets right up close to it to peer into the cookpot, so he must not be too scared of it.

In the book, Gollum has:

Tried to slip away, presumably to eat, because he's hungry. Or maybe he just wants alone time! Shelob is not in visiting range. He's not being dastardly. Leave him alone

He's been flagged down to do additional work, and interrupted from whatever he wanted to do

Went off somewhere. Caught two rabbits (with his bare hands, I assume??) Also caught at least one other thing, because he's chewing something when he comes back

Came back with rabbits

Left Sam to his tender moment with Frodo and went off for more alone time

Gently floated the idea that perhaps Sam doesn't want these rabbits anymore, surrendered the rabbits when asked

Agreed to another errand that is probably difficult for him to do, after hunting down at least two rabbits Up to this point Gollum has been called 'old noser', had his speech patterns parroted at him in a mocking way, had a polite question refused, and been told he will be 'carved into mincemeat' if he damages the cooking pans (does Gollum even know what a cooking pan is? When was the last time he's seen one? Was he just handed some foreign object and told 'put water in it and don't break it' 'of course! why?' 'stfu') Gollum has a whole long complicated history that would reasonably make him very prone to difficulties with emotional regulation. Severe trauma and centuries of social isolation are involved.

He only just now gets angry, now that he thinks Sam is going to start a forest fire and summon orcs and the first word out of his mouth is a relatively restrained 'Ach!' a word that doesn't even start with an F!

Gollum says fire is harmful and will draw enemy attention. Sam says essentially 'probably not but if it does that's too bad'.

Another bit of context is that Gollum has been presenting himself as the 'wilderness survival guy' and has obvious pride when he's talking about finding his way through the marsh. Sam isn't just being dismissive of Gollum, he's particularly dismissing something Gollum has real knowledge of and takes pride in that has nothing to do with being a corrupted evildoer.

Then Sam says he's going to cook the food.

'Stew the rabbits!' squealed Gollum in dismay. `Spoil beautiful meat Sméagol saved for you, poor hungry Sméagol! What for? What for, silly hobbit? They are young, they are tender, they are nice. Eat them, eat them!' He clawed at the nearest rabbit, already skinned and lying by the fire.

After all of that, we are at 'They are young, they are tender, they are nice. Eat them, eat them!' In the movie, the scene started with this line, apropros of nothing, and it's just. Yelled at Frodo. It's an invitation.

In the book: The same line is a cry of frustration. This isn't a non sequitur, this is a last straw! Gollum is hungry. He's been chronically hungry for a long time. The rabbits are exactly the kind of thing he likes to eat. They must smell amazing to him because now they're skinned. He had to turn them over to Sam after going to the work of hunting them (he didn't have to do this, he could have just not come back, or pretended he didn't find anything- whether or not his motives are pure, and they probably aren't, he's doing what he promised).

In return: Sam told him to do more work, and then started a fire- which Gollum seems to genuinely think is idiotic and puts his own safety at risk because he's stuck with these hobbits for the time being- Sam won't listen to reason and put it out, and to add insult to injury, that meat he insisted on?

HE'S JUST GOING TO RUIN IT

Imagine you were hungry and you brought someone an oreo (also you had to wander around in the woods and find the oreo and then surprise it from behind and break its neck), and that person just! scraped off the cream filling and replaced it with spray cheese! after that person called you a jerk and set a fire in a trash can! Maybe that person loves spray-cheese oreos! Maybe everyone but you loves them! I think you'd still be frustrated! (If you're the person who loves spray cheese oreos, pretend it's something else.)

On my first reading of the book this is where I got that sinking 'I am feeling a mite sympathetic to the horrible murderer that I know is just going to stay evil and die in the end' feeling. Gollum is being dreadfully annoying, but he's been pushed past his ability to self-regulate. It feels like the dynamic of antagonizing someone until they melt down and then criticizing them for melting down (Sam is not intending to do this, and doesn't even seem to notice that's what's happened, but the result is the same.)

Sam smooths things over and lets Gollum leave! until

Until

'Gollum!' he called softly. 'Third time pays for all. I want some herbs.' Gollum's head peeped out of the fern, but his looks were neither helpful nor friendly.

WHYEVER NOT?

'A few bay-leaves, some thyme and sage, will do -- before the water boils,' said Sam. 'No! ' said Gollum. `Sméagol is not pleased. And Sméagol doesn't like smelly leaves. He doesn't eat grasses or roots, no precious, not till he's starving or very sick, poor Sméagol.'

(Gollum was retching at the scent of flowers earlier. He may be annoyingly dramatic but I have no cause to doubt that they really did make him feel ill)

(also, I'm out in the weeds speculating now, but I just noticed Gollum is starting to spout off talking about himself and how he feels after Sam pooh-poohed his fretting about the fire, and it feels like a bid for recognition, did you notice Sam has not been calling him Sméagol? Sam isn't using his real name.)

The response:

'Sméagol'll get into real true hot water, when this water boils, if he don't do as he's asked,' growled Sam.

Gollum is here under duress and is cooperating with a quest that is in every way opposed to his personal interests and survival.

'Sméagol won't go, O no precious, not this time,' hissed Gollum. 'He's frightened, and he's very tired, and this hobbit's not nice, not nice at all. Sméagol won't grub for roots and carrotses and -- taters. What's taters, precious, eh, what's taters?

He hasn't had any rest because he was immediately sent off to hunt. I'll bet he is tired

Gollum is still willing to stop being angry because he saw a shiny new word, let's see how this goes

`Po-ta-toes,' said Sam. 'The Gaffer's delight, and rare good ballast for an empty belly. But you won't find any, so you needn't look. But be good Sméagol and fetch me the herbs, and I'll think better of you

Sam gives a cryptic answer and demands more work. 'I'll think better of you?' Lies! Gollum just did two errands and received nothing but more verbal abuse. Sam did not even thank him. This was where on my first reading I was saying to myself 'oh no Sam is mishandling this really badly and doesn't even notice'

I'll cook you some taters one of these days. I will: fried fish and chips served by S. Gamgee. You couldn't say no to that.' 'Yes, yes we could. Spoiling nice fish, scorching it. Give me fish now, and keep nassty chips! ' 'Oh you're hopeless,' said Sam. 'Go to sleep!'

Gollum doesn't understand what chips are. He just said he doesn't like plants or cooked food. He's tired and hungry and has been ordered around all day. He did everything asked up to now and in return he gets called hopeless.

Sméagol willingly, nonconfrontationally, successfully did two out of the three tasks, and when he refuses a third task after being demeaned and dismissed, he's called hopeless.

So Gollum leaves. That's the end of his involvement in this scene. he didn't hit anyone, bite anyone, or call Sam anything worse than 'not nice', 'silly' and 'foolish' (He does not call Sam a 'stupid fat hobbit', that appears to be a movie invention as well)

In the movies, he threw dead animals at frodo and some of this dialog was said without any of the context. haha funni.

The takeaways from the book version are that Gollum can understand and follow verbal commands and do errands (this is important because Gollum needs to be somewhat sane and lucid in order to satisfyingly be held accountable for his crimes), will cooperate when asked, communicates poorly, has trouble controlling his temper, and may at any time be in physical distress and not show it. (He doesn't give outward signs of fatigue.)

The takeaways from the movie version seem to be that Gollum is hyperactive, doesn't understand facial expressions, and finds cooking to be an alien custom. No one tried to ask him to do anything, so I have no idea whether he can understand requests and do tasks or not. May or may not be lucid.

Can we at least agree that Sam saying 'You're hopeless' after this:

Give it to usss rrraw… and wrrriggling! [Makes sickeningly happy face.]

is a different vibe from Sam saying 'You're hopeless' after hearing this?

'[Sméagol]'s frightened, and he's very tired, and this hobbit's not nice, not nice at all.'

Summary

Why is this scene the opposite?

Frodo has gone from being asleep but serving as an emotional anchor (both Sam and Gollum look at him and have some kind of emotional revelation, although the latter has his in private and we don't ever know what it is, the cad) to being awake but doing nothing and leaving. (He does go and find Faramir when the scene ends, but at that point, we are moving on to the next scene. so I don't count it.) Frodo has gone from affecting events while asleep to having no effect while awake

Sam has gone from being in charge of what's happening to passively reacting to a chaos gremlin

Gollum has gone from following orders until he can't take it anymore and suffering to being a chaos gremlin who does whatever he wants and seemingly having a good time? he's dancing around

The stew goes from eaten to uneaten

The overall purpose of the original scene appears to have been mainly to establish character and relationship dynamics. The movie scene... is doing the same, I suppose, but it's so brief and stripped of context that it almost feels like an homage more than a real scene, like it's there because they couldn't get away with entirely cutting it. And as every character is behaving contrary to what they used to in one form or another, the overall effect is:

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Ask me about the waterfall scene next

#long post #never ask me about the waterfall scene

[patolemus]

Sterek fic recs: Time Travel AU Edition

As I promised @oldefashioned here is the start of my unending sterek fic reccing. I’ll go by category because this post will never end otherwise.

1. song of the phoenix by graveltotempo

In a last ditch effort to save Beacon Hills after everyone else has died, Stiles channels all of his energy and magic into cleansing the Nemeton and the magical core of the town. But he is more powerful than he knows, more connected to the Nemeton than anyone can guess, and a group of kids, teenagers and adults wakes up in the middle of the night ten years earlier with a second chance they didn't know they needed and a bond they don't understand. Stiles though? Stiles wakes up with a little more.

Notes: It's just. So good. It's kinda hard to explain but basically no one knows what's going on but at the same time it works. Kinda. They're working on it. Stiles is awesome in this, I especially love his relationship with the Hales, because of course I do. It's ongoing.

2. Twice And For All by novasillies

“Derek,” he said despite himself. The werewolf’s eyes sharpened. Scott gave him a distressed look. “Do I know you?” He asked tensely, and Stiles grinned in return. “Oh, no,” he answered, “Not yet.” - In which a well-timed conflict between the magic of the Ghost Riders and Stiles' spark sends him back to the day Scott got bitten. Stiles pointedly changes nothing and so God complexes, needlessly complex romantic drama, and pure, unbridled silliness ensue. (Updates every Thursday wink wonk)

Notes: This is to date one of my favorite time travel fics of all time, across multiple fandoms. Stiles in this one is just *chef's kiss*. Completely unhinged, I love him. Also, the sterek? Easily one of the best dynamics I've read. It's ongoing, only four chapters left!

3. Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?  Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

Notes: I liked this one because it's not the typical Stiles travels back in time after everyone else in the pack dies. It's got a different premise, still somewhat canon compliant (maybe??? canon enough), and it's amazingly done. It's complete.

4. Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." ----- The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

Notes: So good! Stiles is a traumatized bean and the Hales are just everything! It's complete.

5. The A Spark of Hope and the Butterfly Effect series by Phlinting

It's been eleven years since Scott was bitten by a feral werewolf and, despite his pack's many victories along the way, Gerard Argent's influence lives on. As the knowledge of the supernatural spread to the general population so did the hatred and fear of the unknown. The McCall pack has been picked off one by one and Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski, and Peter Hale are the only three left, on the run and barely surviving. But Stiles has found a spell. He has the magic, the spark, and his belief. He has his dad and Peter to help power it and he has the will and desperation to succeed. He's going back to the Hale fire and this time he's going to stop it ALL before it starts. It's the perfect solution. Too bad things never go quite according to plan...

Notes: The Sheriff and Peter are *chef's kiss* here! I really don't know how to explain all that happens here but it gets a little out of control in the best way. It's complete.

6. The The Long Way Round series by exclamation

A magical accident sends Stiles back in time. Now he's stuck in New York, living with Derek and Laura, and the only way to get back to his own time is to learn to use magic. Meanwhile, he must figure out how much he can tell them about their future. Can he warn them about the dangers they face? Can he change his own past?   And can he trust the creature known as Bookworm, who seems to know him better than he knows himself?

Notes: This series had me in a chokehold, I cried so much but it was absolutely worth it! Stiles doesn't plan to travel back in time on this one, this just... happen, and it all spirals a bit out of control. But don't worry! You may have no idea of what's going to happen, but the author certainly did and they did an amazing work. It's complete.

7. It’s Happening by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

Derek stopped listening to him, brain going a mile a minute.   Derek, it’s fucking happening! Derek, please!   He would recognize that fucking voice anywhere. Two years. Two fucking years had passed, and now this little shit was standing in front of him, speaking his name, and grinning like an idiot. “It’s you,” Derek said, earning him a confused look from Stiles. “The phone call. Two years ago. It was you.” (SNYE - January 2nd - Time Travel)

Notes: This is not canon compliant. It's a whole other universe, actually, and it's so good. Good ol' Derek is losing his mind over here, but it's alright! Things work out just fine. It's complete.

These ones are not time travel, but dimensional travel. It’s similar enough so here you go.

8. The play it again series by metisket

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself. “Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

Notes: I honestly don't know how to show the whole of my appreciation for this series. I think I've read this about five times since I found it last year. Stiles lands himself in a whole other dimension, where the Hale House fire never happened and Scott is human. It goes about as well as you can expect. It's technically not complete, but the main piece is.

9. The Home Across The Universe series by TricksterShi

You can lose your home and spend your whole life looking for it, sometimes you may even find bits of it again. But sometimes home goes out searching and finds you first. ~ The day he loses his father and his pack, Stiles is transported to a parallel world where his counterpart is nine years old and seemingly small changes have had a huge impact on the course of events in Beacon Hills. At first sticking to the shadows as a vigilante to protect his otherworld father and younger self, Stiles is soon drawn out into the light and onto a path that forces him to confront the traumas of his past so that he can make a place for himself in this new world.

Notes: Just. This absolute beast of a universe is seriously so well done, and so good. Imagine play it again, but much more depressing and waaaay longer. The angst is on point! The Stilinskis are the best in this one. And Derek and Laura have my heart, love my pookies. Stiles is not having the best times, but he'll be looked after, don't worry! Also technically not complete, but all the pieces in the series are done.

10. The Ley Lines series by forestofbabel

Stiles is back in town after many years, angry and bitter and disconnected from anything you might call pack. It might as well be a tradition at this point that he gets drunk and wakes up in the woods. Only, this time, something is different.  The ghosts that have weighed in his heart are alive and well, and Stiles gets to witness a life that could have been his. There is one thing he knows, though. No matter how much he may want to stay, he has to go home.  If the ley lines you should follow, and your dwelling at the end, and find your presence has been hollowed, your hereafter is to amend." *** Stiles is faced in this new world with someone he had been avoiding for a long time. Himself.  The Double Walker cannot survive where the Double Walker dwells *** Derek had an itch under his skin. There was something missing. He knew exactly what it was. Who it was. His regrets paraded themselves in a steady stream, and he had to watch as Stiles left time and time again, knowing it would be the only way to let the ley lines heal. That didn't make it hurt any less. Still, some part of Derek hoped.

Notes: I honestly just read the first part, but I thought I'd add the whole series so people know what they're getting into. The first part can be read as a stand alone, so if anyone wants to stop after that they absolutely can. The fic itself is a bit sad, but it has a happy ending! Stiles travels to another dimension, and shenanigans follow. The series is complete.

#hope you like this! #fic recs #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #eternal sterek #one day I'll come here and post my own time travel sterek fic #today is not that day #time travel au #teen wolf #sterek fanfic #ao3

[the-modern-typewriter]

Just wanted to say thank you so, so much for writing Fate's Favourite. I actually found and loved your blog before I ever found that fanfic, and it was a delight to know it was written by you, and it's so clear how you've improved. But Fate's Favourite will always have a part of my heart, because it's the first story I've read that just has a platonic friendship that feels as equal as a romantic one without being romantic? And as a lonely aroace that means everything. EVERYTHING. (1/2)

(2/2) I had a conversation today that reminded me that I'm never going to have the queerplatonic relationship I want that I've always wanted since I was a child, and how it makes me want to write one so much more, but then I've never managed to write the story I've wanted to write my entire life because I'd always be afraid of being accused of queerbaiting or people just going, 'but it's actually just a gay romance this isn't what friendship looks like' and just. Thank you for Fate's Favourite.

--

Wow. FF is a blast from the past!

You are very welcome.

Apologies for the long, self-indulgent reply.

That story was one of the first things I ever properly wrote and my first (maybe second?) truly long-form story ever. I thus have a soft spot for it, even though in terms of craft and technique I can't so much as look at it without seeing all my numerous beginner flaws and cringing and can't bring myself to actually point people to it. Much improvement since then, as you say!

(An excellent reminder that writing is a learned skill.)

Anyway. The other interesting thing about that story is that I wrote it before I'd ever heard of asexuality or realised that was what I was. I was a very confused teenager being bombarded with this pressure to have crushes and date people and all that general societal messaging we have about romance being the most important thing ever. Especially in YA.

So I'd go home after school and write that story.

Obviously it's more unhealthy than what I'd want for myself in my real life, but the sheer intensity of feeling and importance of the platonic main relationship was something I had also never seen before but craved. And still crave, honestly. So I feel ya.

As for queerbaiting...

A lot of readers at the time told me they viewed the story as 'pre-romance'. AKA, it's a romantic relationship and they haven't realised it yet for whatever reason. They mostly didn't mean that badly, I don't think.

(Although I sometimes think though that if the term 'queerbaiting' was as broadly known and misused then as it is now that I would have been mercilessly lambasted out of ever writing again! And I wouldn't have known how to articulate the fact that wasn't, actually, what I was doing. I think we need to be kind to new writers. I think 'content creator' is gutting something vital in the ecosystem. But that's another rabbit hole.)

So I've been there. It happens. But other people's bad takes didn't change the story and what it meant to me as a lonely ace teenager or what it meant to you.

I have had readers before make a similar comment to you about how it was the first time they got to see something so important to their heart portrayed.

That matters so much more than whatever people say about your writing who don't need it.

Which is why we have to keep writing the stories.

Even if it's clumsy and raw. Even if it's the first thing you've ever tried. Even if it's (especially if) it's a messed up fantasy straight from the most primal part of your brain.

If we don't write it, it won't exist.

And that's so much worse.

The nay-sayers can come to the party, but it wasn't thrown in their honour.

#mentions of this story sure caught me off guard #though not in a bad way #I'm amazed it's still floating around #the writer's journey lol #the writing life #writing talk