#critical of every single move i make
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corderis · 2 months ago
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i am so so close to being able to enjoy the holiday we're SO CLOSE
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thebirdandhersong · 4 months ago
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Lol
#theres nothing quite like your mother saying Well maybe you shouldve been more careful because now your boss might think youve been flirting#with this male coworker (whom i like splendidly as a friend) and now maybe she thinks youre not trustworthy#and maybe she regrets hiring you because you said you feel like youre making a lot of mistakes this week and she might assume thats because#your head is filled with this boy.#so dont make her regret hiring you.#MA'AM I TOLD YOU I WAS ALREADY ANXIOUS BECAUSE I MADE SO MANY MISTAKES TODAY WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME ASHAMED#OF SOMETHING THAT I HONESTLY HAD NO CLUE I OUGHT TO BE ANXIOUS ABOUT AT MY FIRST NEW JOB AFTER IVE GRADUATED????#anyway going to bed i cant take this anymore LOL she said it so lightly and im like. well i never even considered#being afraid of making my boss regret hiring me somehow because of some kind of behaviour that i had no idea was sending some kind of signal#anywaysssss 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#and then she was like why are you crying?? 💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀#not to be like this is partly why i didnt want to move home but confound it all why are things like this#can i not simply confide in my mother my anxieties and worriws#worries#and not also have to worry about her potentially being like Well have you considered you ARE right and it IS your fault?#idk man something something firstborn child eldest daughter can i have some room to breathe. please#also not to whine but Not my father walking in on me eating dinner at 10pm because i was holed up#in my room in a semi depressive state after so many gong shows in a work day and straight up having no appetite#but deciding my body needs the food anyway its better late than never.....walking in and then saying#you know if you eat this late you'll gain weight. SIR??????????????????#sorry to complain and rant again i simply cannot in this house and whats more am doing my best to honour my parents#but why is it so hard out here and how can they say stuff like that with a smile!!!!!!!#also i DO have an inner critic who is always like Its your fault you are the worst you should be ashamed always........why do my parents#not understand after knowing me for so long and watching me grow up#that i can make myself so ashamed of the smallest thing so easily and that what they say drives me to shame almost as easily?#ANYWAY LOL WHAT A DAY#you guys!!! i am working so hard i promise i PROMISE I am!!! it is my first full time job ever and i am working so so hard#i am doing my absolute best and no one sees it and that is FINE i just wish my parents would see that i AM trying!!#i come back home so dead every single day because i put in 120%! this is literally my first job after graduation#and my parents KNOW this has been the most exhausting taxing and soul crushing year ive had in my very short life so far
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mokeonn · 7 months ago
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The most annoying phenomena on this website is grown adults refusing to educate themselves, despite the abundant recourses at their disposal, because their heads are still stuck in highschool.
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dream-sans-mogai · 2 months ago
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You know what? I'm not done.
The fact y'all white mogais fought tooth and nail to not have to put white in your bios or somewhere readily available was actually insane and confirms my already existing theory that some of you think once you have a certain amount of kins, f/os, irls, mental illnesses, xenogenders, orientation modifiers, alters and neopronouns, you lose white privilege and it absolutely shows that you do not lose that privilege exclusively because y'all have become pretty consistent white saviors lmao
Like y'all literally cried about it being too identifiable about you and being the same as doxxing like you weren't already sharing with everyone the exact percentages of your orientation attraction, age, state you live in, public name, like... I have to wonder hard how many of y'all participate in anti-racism activism to be an ally, actually understand why certain things are actually racist and help POC and how many of you exclusively do it to look better to other (white) activists and ease your white guilt.
Now y'all aren't even including byi/stance pages on top of a total lack of dni and wonder why radqueer beliefs are seeping in and every new term is basically transabled under a different name. I called it when I first saw this new batch pop up and I'm saying it now, they have their radqueer blogs with their radqueer content that you have blocked and they have their other blog named something like prxncxss-of-nxght or something with $50 worth of custom lazy caard graphic edits with needy streamer girl and 17 titles but no public stances for all their normal xenogender content. You didn't fight it so there they are. They ain't saying shit. Hell, no one said shit when ra/diomo/gai litterally reblogged a word for word transabled term. "Internal self" you realize that's just flowery language right? Like the creator themselves already said that it applied "to the soul and not the physical form". Please read a room. "#disability"? Are you actually fucking kidding me? No one batted an eye?
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I don't think the community is dead because I don't follow a lot of big names anymore or because a lot of big names have deactivated, y'all just stopped caring and moved on despite all these beliefs you said you cared about. I don't really care, I've pretty much known from day one that a majority of the community is literally just full of shit about all these 8 paragraph basic feminism posts and vents crying about racism from fully white people.
I'm not someone to rip someone apart publicly for being what they say they are, then there's no need, but lieing about it? Damn, at least be shitty honestly.
Don't harass me, the creator of that term or ra/diom/og/ai over this. Just block and move on, I'm not having some public drama back and forth over a clearly transabled term.
#clover speaks#no one said a word#no call out no notes calling it what it is coiner is a literal radqueer#like yall dont care and even though i knew it im just glad i dont have to pretend to believe ur activism claims anymore#you wonder where i went i went back to my art back to things that make me happy#this community may be less trigger happy but now they are snuggling up to radqueers just like i predicted#i knew it was gonna happen and i knew the community would just keep going and its why i hooped off this train years ago#despite yalls claims of being critical inclusionists and wanting to educate instead of hate ive seen this all happen before#the inclusionist vs exclusionist saga didnt die because one side beat the other#a fuck ton of inclusionists became map supporters over night and all the exclusionists just lost interest and moved on#this is what will continue to happen to every movement the ultra progressives on this site create until you grow a backbone#yall are so scared of invalidating someone who is genuinely harmful that youve become the thing you claimed you hate#ive clocked multiple terms that were ableist or interphobic but because yall never make any effort to actually listen to us#you've allowed radqueers to basically indoctrinate you while the rest of us watch you zombie shuffle onwards#youve liberalpilled inclusionmaxxed ur way into the fucking sun#im not coming with yall yall have fun but im not going to smile to ur face and pretend you even remotely have disabled and intersex peoples#best interests at heart#the community has always been ableist#the community has always been racist#the community has always been interphobic#it wont change until any of you can accept that just cause you feel some way in passing dosent mean its a valid identity#even if its not in passing its still not inherently morally neutral#I'll keep being me but like literal transabled terminology is seeping in and its hitting the worst of us first but yall have never listened#so not shocking nor surprising that no one caught this and thus did not say shit#yall love to scream that your moderate personality disorder is the same as my severe autism and subsequent mental disability are the same#every july but you sure dont give a single shit when someone pretends to have our condition and makes up a word and throws some pantones on#a png and calls it valid#grow a backbone or continue being the laughing stock of the disability community i aint helping either way
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crickwater · 2 years ago
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I don't have any strong feelings abt matt mercer dming for d20. I am enjoying seeing the intense reactions of everyone else tho
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m4rs-ex3 · 3 days ago
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tdp instagram creators try not to shit on the show for no reason challenge!! (*IMPOSSIBLE*)
You all are just trying to find reasons to whine about the Stella plush.
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“Guess she was just a merch plug all along.” What? You know how long it’s been since she was first introduced as a character? You think the only real reason they did was to merchandise her? Like they were just secretly plotting and planning this entire time for her to be merchandised 3 years later and that was her entire purpose lol.
Like, I genuinely cannot fathom how people could seriously be so upset over this. I mean, I’ve even heard a lot of people say the complete opposite and how they really wish TDP had more merch. This reaction I’m seeing is so weird and I cannot imagine it being anything other than forced.
“Maybe it’s just me.” No, the problem is that it’s literally not just you. Literally every major TDP artist I’m seeing on Insta except for one is saying stuff like this, and that’s why I feel like this is a forced reaction.
Also why is it weird to get merch directly from the show? Do you think it’s weird… to support a show you like?
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inhogf · 22 days ago
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the salesman nsfw hcs.
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· contains: purely nsfw, gun-play, he has a thing for your period UMM · note: its like 5 am but i HAD to post this
·⠀the salesman/gong yoo's not the type to call you ‘baby, princess, honey’ during sex. no; his dignity is higher than that. he'd be more of a name user or would call you his ‘slut, whore, bitch’.
·⠀barely has personal preference for positions, as long as he’s in full control. just as eager to have you ride him as he is to flip you over. just as long as he's inside you. big fan of face fucking though! holds your hair as you're doing it :3
·⠀has a libido bigger than his dick. practically using you almost every night as his sex doll; his stress relieve toy. makes sure to use you till the last drop when he finally gets his hands on you, due to the disappointingly lack of free time to sate his urges w/ you. has a shocking amount of stamina too :3. he definitely initiates things more than you do. he's suuuchhh a horny little boy for you OMDSSSS.
·⠀not a surprise but he's totally into gun play— fucks u w/ his glock, adoring the expression you make as he thrusts every single length of the gun into your pussy. holds his gun against your temple as he makes you bounce on his dick, getting off to your increasing fear. may even shoot a single bullet across the room to show you that the one against your skull is still functional and still a threat to your well-being.
·⠀i feel like he'd have a fetish for periods. doesn't like eating you out but as soon as he finds out you're menstruating, he'd BEG you to let him give you head and always find a way into your pants strategically. keeps a tight grip on your waist to hold you against his mouth ♡ & the mere smell of your blood is enough to get his dick sprung up.
·⠀this MIGHT be controversial but he'd be the type to beg you to send him nudes of your bare body. especially when he's out at work. his gallery is all pictures of your body and he's always shamelessly scrolling through them— palming away vigorously at his dick, wishing it was your mouth wrapped around his tip instead.
·⠀he's 100% a moaner. not high and squeaky moans, low ones; groans low enough only for you to hear. very vocal and mouthy, he's not scared to let you know how much of a good job you're doing, how pretty and fuckable you look doing it.
·⠀he's sooo harsh with you, spanking you on your plump ass until there's a visible red handprint, manhandling your hips off the bed to get a good angle to fuck, slapping your face every chance he gets. he's so mean.
·⠀he's big on degrading, is talking shit any chance he gets. “you can't even take me properly, useless little thing.“ and he's soo mean and criticizes every move you make. by the end of it all you’ll be nodding with tears streaming down your face (he gets off to it), lost to the pleasure he’s giving you and only able to apologise for being such a pathetic and stupid little baby!
·⠀owns multiple toys— gags (dog bone gags to be specific), ropes, blindfolds, vibrators, beads, dildos, you name it. he's a spender. ties you up with his ropes to feel the control that he craves so much.
cr @inhogf dont steal
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punkshort · 2 months ago
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Evergreen | Chapter Four: Depression
Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader
Chapter Summary: With some comforting words from Sarah and Daniel, you and Joel work things out.
Chapter Warnings: language, angst, hurt/comfort, grief, soft!joel, smut (18+ MDNI), oral f!receiving, lil size kink, unprotected piv sex, feelings, therapy
WC: 8.3K
Series Masterlist
Daniel's office was always the hardest room to spend any amount of time in since his death, but the hurt compounded even more when you were reminded of the first time you kissed Joel on the green couch in the corner.
You weren't even sure what you were doing. The idea of moving out of town wasn't concrete, per se, but you still found yourself packing up Daniel's office. What started simple enough with taping up open boxes of books turned into almost two hours of scrutinizing every single item in his desk. Business cards, scribbled notes, old bills, and a few pictures of the two of you filled his junk drawer. Half used pens, a calculator, an old pair of glasses and the medal his university granted him when he went back to give a commencement speech three years prior filled another. But what ultimately drew your attention was a yellow legal pad shoved underneath his laptop. Pages and pages and pages of notes filled a decent chunk of it. From what you could tell, it was an outline for the next book he was in the middle of writing, the very same manuscript you had given to Ellie. Most of it didn't make sense to you, but you read it anyway. Your fingertips traced over his familiar, elegant handwriting. It was one of the things you loved about Daniel when you first met. He didn't have terrible chicken scratch like most men you knew. He took his time when he wrote. He savored every letter. Each word was a beautiful mix of print and cursive that was so uniquely him.
Your eyes grew a little misty as you admired each page of notes, but you weren't sad. On the contrary, you felt happy. You felt connected to him again, if only just for a brief few minutes. But when you got to the last page, what you read stole your breath and destroyed the resolve you managed to build up.
To the love of my life. My better half. My biggest fan and toughest critic.
I can't wait to marry you, my love. I look forward to lazy Sunday mornings with your homemade waffles and my terrible coffee for the rest of our lives. You deserve the world. Someone to worship at your feet and be there for you when you're feeling weak. I've got no idea why you've chosen me, but every day I wake up eternally grateful you did. Just know you will make me happy until my dying breath, and I hope I am able to do the same for you.
The only thing I ever want in this life is to see you happy.
Tears streamed down your face. You had to shove the pad of paper away before drops fell on the page and ruined Daniel's last message to you. Swiveling around, you opened a few drawers until you found a box of tissues, then you buried your face in your hands and wept. Wept for the life you could have had with Daniel and for the one you foolishly threw away with Joel. Shockingly, his words managed to ease the guilt that had settled heavy in your chest for the past week. While he had been talking about himself being the one to make you happy in his dedication, you knew Daniel. He wasn't a selfish man. He was caring and sweet and kind. And he wouldn't want you to be miserable and lonely for the rest of your life. He truly was always happy whenever you were happy.
Joel was like that, too. He was so different from Daniel in many ways, but at their core, they were the same. They were soft and trusting and loving. They cared so deeply for you and wanted to make you happy. Both were so gentle and careful with you, patient and funny. It was no wonder you found yourself drawn to Joel in the first place.
Your doorbell chimed unexpectedly downstairs, followed by an urgent rap on the door. You frowned and snatched up a new tissue so you could dab at your cheeks while you made your way down the steps. Glancing out the window on the bottom stair, you saw a small, unfamiliar sedan in your driveway. You hesitated for just a moment with your hand hovering over the doorknob, wondering who it could be. Not many people stopped by your house. The paranoid part of you wondered if it was a reporter, the trauma from being harassed after Daniel's passing still living somewhere deep inside. But then a young girl's voice drifted through from the other side, startling you.
"Hey, please open up. It's Sarah," she said, then paused before adding, "Joel's daughter."
You shakily unlocked the door and swung it open. She appeared slightly disheveled, like she was in a hurry. Or maybe you were just reading her energy because she certainly came off rushed.
"Is everything okay?" you asked her. Visions of Joel at a job site pinned under some heavy beams flashed through your mind, an unexpected knee jerk reaction that was no doubt trauma from the car accident with Daniel.
"Yeah, everything's fine - sorry," she said immediately when she realized how it must have looked to show up at your door out of the blue. "I was hoping we could talk. Do you have a minute?"
"Oh! Uh, yeah," you said, glancing over your shoulder before opening your door wider for her. "Come on in."
You watched her slide off her sneakers and you closed the door before pointing towards the kitchen.
"Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have-"
"No, thank you. I don't think I have a ton of time, actually," she said, worrying her lower lip as she glanced out the front window towards your driveway.
"Well, alright. Here, have a seat," you replied, ushering her into the sitting room. She sunk down onto your sofa and you paused for a moment before choosing to sit in the soft leather chair across from her. Sarah's hands fidgeted in her lap as her eyes swept across the room, taking in every detail of the old Victorian home before letting her gaze linger on a few framed photos of you and Daniel on the mantle.
"I'm sorry," she blurted out, tearing her eyes away to look at you. "I'm so fucking sorry. I was rude and I had no right to treat you the way I did. I know it's not an excuse but I was just... surprised. I guess when I thought my dad was ready to move on, he would have dated someone closer to his age." Sarah took a steadying breath while you remained silent, stunned by her sudden outburst. "Then I realized it wasn't really about the age thing. I don't think it would have mattered who he dated. It was just... weird, I guess."
Sarah shamefully stared down at her fingers tangled in her lap, waiting for you to wrap your head around her apology.
"Uh, wow. Well... thank you. That means a lot to me," you told her with a soft sniffle. "Your dad always spoke so much about you, it felt like I knew you, in a way. After everything the two of you had been through, I don't blame you one bit."
She risked a glance up at you, eyes all wide and watery.
"Really? Just like that?"
You smiled and nodded.
"Of course. I'm not going to hold it against you," you shrugged. "We weren't really trying to keep it a secret from you, just so you know. It was more like we were taking it slow and seeing where things went." Your eyes drifted to a photo of you and Daniel on the wall and your chest tightened. "It wasn't - it was hard for us both."
Sarah followed your gaze and felt the guilt creep back up.
"I know. My dad told me about your fiancé. I'm so sorry," she said, turning to look at you. "I loved his books. He was so creative. Like, the worlds he built up were so incredible and beautiful. He was one of my favorite authors." Then she remembered the gift you had given Joel and she added, "Thank you for those books. The ones you gave my dad. They're absolutely stunning and I promise to take good care of them, I know those are rare editions."
Your face lit up. "You're welcome. He would have wanted someone like you to have them. He was so appreciative of his readers for giving him a platform to live his dream."
"He sounded like a really great guy," she said sympathetically.
"He was," you replied softly. "After the accident, I could hardly get out of bed for weeks. I thought my life was over. I know how dramatic that sounds but I never thought I'd be able to move on, until-"
You cut yourself off, but Sarah knew what you were going to say. She inched forward on the couch with her eyebrows knit together.
"Could you please give him another chance?" she pleaded. "I don't want to see him lonely. I don't want you to be lonely. And, shit... you were getting him to actually exercise and eat vegetables!"
You laughed and shook your head.
"I didn't ask him to do that."
"But he was doing it because of you," she protested. "I've been trying to get him to eat better for years and he knows you a few weeks and suddenly he's chopping up peppers for dinner. It's definitely you."
You felt your cheeks warm as you let your eyes wander aimlessly around the room, surrounded by the memories of your first true love while sitting across from the extension of your second.
"Okay. I'll give him a call," you relented. When your eyes found hers again, she was looking out your window.
"I don't think that's necessary," she said, standing up. The corner of her mouth twitched and when you heard a car door slam in your driveway, you jumped up from your chair. You had barely made it three steps before you heard Joel rapping loudly on your front door.
"Ugh, Dad, you're filthy," Sarah scolded when she swung open the door with a frown.
"What're you doin' here?" he asked, wild eyes glancing over her shoulder. "Where's-"
He stopped short when you stepped into view behind her, giving him a shy wave. Sarah shifted to the side with a sly smile, eyes darting back and forth between you and Joel. Neither of you spoke. There was so much to say but you had no idea how to start. Then your gaze drifted down his frame, taking in his dusty jeans, boots, and black work tshirt. Memories of the day you visited him at work for lunch flashed through your mind and you swallowed tightly.
"O-okay," Sarah said, slowly drawing the word out when she bent over to slide her sneakers back on. "My work is done here. I'll leave you to it."
Joel blinked and tore his eyes away from you to look at his daughter, who was in the process of squeezing past him.
"What'dya mean?"
"Nothing. Just wanted to clear the air. Rest is up to you, old man," she teased, poking him in the shoulder. She gave you a friendly wave goodbye before skipping down the porch steps and back towards her car.
Joel's head swiveled back and forth between you and his daughter, still confused and trying to figure out what to do but when Sarah backed out of your driveway and disappeared down the street with a playful honk of her horn, his choice was made.
He turned back to look at you. Now that Sarah was gone and the initial bewilderment wore off, Joel's nerves began to make his heart thump faster and sweat collect under his collar.
"Do you, um," you glanced into your home over your shoulder before meeting his eye again. "Would you like to come inside?"
"Yes," he replied far too eagerly, making you smile when you held the door open for him. He toed off his boots and cringed. "Sorry for the mess. Was just gettin' home from work and found them two stirrin' shit up so I just raced on over."
"That's alright, I don't mi- wait, two?"
Joel nodded and followed you into your kitchen.
"Ellie came by lookin' for me 'n found Sarah," he explained, delicately sitting down at the kitchen table and praying he didn't leave a trail of dust behind him. The thought of sullying your beautiful home, the place where you found peace, irked him.
"Ellie?" you repeated, voice laced with surprise as you scooped coffee grounds into the filter. "Why did Ellie stop by?"
"To tell me you're skippin' town," he replied bluntly.
Your finger froze on the button of the coffee maker. Shit.
"That's not entirely true," you replied feebly. You turned around, leaning against the counter with your arms crossed protectively over your chest. Fuck, why did he have to look so good? Sitting there in your kitchen after a long day at work watching you mill around had your mind wandering, wondering what it would be like to have him come home to you just like that every single day.
"It was something I was considering," you continued. "My parents have been hounding me to move back home."
"Thought you wanted to stay in Texas," he said softly. You watched his finger anxiously dig into the side of your table.
"I did. I mean, I do. It's just..." you trailed off and looked around the room. Your throat grew tight when you said, "I can't live in this house anymore, Joel. I love it, but... I don't - I can't-"
Tears welled up in your eyes. You cast your gaze down to the floor, not noticing when Joel stood up and crossed the room until you smelled the familiar scent of sawdust and peppermint right in front of you.
You didn't even allow yourself to think. You just stepped forward, burying your face in his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you let the tears silently fall while he held you close, murmuring into your hair that you were going to be alright.
"Don't go," he whispered when your tears had slowed and the coffee pot pinged, alerting you it was finished brewing. Your fingers tightly gripped at his shirt.
"Joel-"
"Please," he begged, pulling back just far enough so you could see the vulnerability etched across his face. "I'm sorry I didn't make you stay that night. I'm sorry I didn't run after you. When I met you, you took me by surprise, darlin', and I'm way outta my area of expertise here, but I-"
Your mouth crashed against his, silencing him with your answer. In an instant, his hands flew up to cup your face, cradling you gently, carefully, yet you still felt his strength wrapping itself around you like a blanket.
"Sweetheart," Joel gasped, pulling away from your kiss but still pressing his forehead against yours, unwilling to let you go. "I don't think I can survive losin' someone again," he told you selfishly, voice trembling as your fingers fanned across his cheek. Fresh tears stung your eyes as your lips found the underside of his jaw and he sighed, dropping his arms to wrap around you tightly.
You weren't sure exactly what it was, but something shifted. Maybe it had been enough to hear from Sarah directly that she was okay with you and her dad being together. Maybe it was the note you found in Daniel's desk. Maybe it was the beautiful reminder that so many people cared enough about you to drop what they were doing to fight for you to stay in their lives. Whatever it was, it had you feeling at finally peace after losing Daniel. The heaviness in your chest was replaced with warmth and hope. It made you believe it was okay to move on and let go.
Your hand that was pressed against his cheek fell to his chest and slowly trailed down his stomach until you felt the cool metal of his belt buckle against your fingertips. Beneath your lips, you felt his neck muscles tense and his pulse skyrocket.
"Wh-what're you doin'?" Joel murmured. His throat bobbed when your fingers hooked around the buckle, pinky slowly sliding the leather from the clasp.
"Do you want me to stop?" you whispered. You opened your eyes to gaze up at him, lips hovering over a red mark you had left just above his collarbone. His skin tasted salty from his dried sweat after working hard all day and it had your mind going a little fuzzy.
Joel shook his head and closed his eyes. You took it as your invitation to continue leaving kisses down the column of his throat while your hand resumed its work on his belt.
"I didn't get a chance to clean up," he rasped when his belt opened loose around his hips. He felt his hands begin to tremble from the nerves and anticipation, so he took a deep breath.
"That's okay. I like you like this," you mumbled. You began to tug on his shirt, pulling the hem from his pants. You were working with urgency, fearful that your guilt might pop up out of nowhere and ruin the moment.
Joel chuckled, pushing his own insecurities aside when he felt your palms slide across his too-soft stomach.
"Why the hell would you like me filthy from a job site all day?" he found himself asking, more so to just calm his nerves a bit as you continued to blindly explore his upper half underneath his shirt.
You nipped playfully at his skin before you said, "Because it's a reminder of how hard you work. And how much you deserve to be taken care of," you explained, pushing him so he began to walk backwards out of your kitchen.
Joel's breath caught in his throat. Unknowingly, you had said the very words he longed to hear and it sent a rush of blood between his legs. He hadn't been taken care of by anybody in so long that he almost forgot what it felt like to have someone else help carry the burden of his daily responsibilities. Someone else to lean on when he felt weak and someone else to turn to when he wanted to share in his happiness.
"You- you sure 'bout this?" he stammered when his heels knocked into the bottom step. You pulled away and grabbed his hand. With a firm nod, you began to lead him up the stairs, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.
On the way to your bedroom, he caught sight of himself in a mirror. His face was flushed, hair dusty and unkempt. His shirt looked messier than usual after you had been tugging on it and he cringed when he noticed the hole at the collar he must have missed earlier that morning when he was getting ready. But even with all that, he still felt giddy. He had a smile stretched so wide it practically hurt his cheeks. And although he looked a mess, his pants half undone with his cock already straining against the denim, he didn't feel foolish or out of place. He felt like a teenager sneaking up to a girl's room while her parents slept. He felt excited and happy and hopeful not only for what was waiting for him in your bedroom, but for what the future held. And just like that, any remaining reservations about his age or physique disappeared when he crossed the threshold into your bedroom for the first time.
His eyes bounced eagerly around the room in the few moments he had before you tugged him down to your level, pressing your mouth feverishly against his while you worked to undo your own pants. The first thing he had noticed was your room was very you. Girly colors and light furniture decorated every square inch. The paintings on the walls were of flowers and some inspirational quote he didn't have time to read. Your bed had a canopy. Sheer white curtains were tied to your headboard and it made him smile when he thought of you waking up every morning in such a beautiful room.
He would find out later you had completely redecorated after Daniel passed away. Top to bottom, new paint and furniture. It made sense. You didn't want to be haunted by your past, turn to look at something he built or picked out. Didn't want to think about the intimate moments you had with him and never would again every time you went to sleep.
Joel didn't have much to even consider any of that in the moment because you had fallen back onto your bed, jeans abandoned on the floor while sweetly reaching out for him to join you.
"Christ," he muttered, unable to stop his eyes from flickering down your body and over your bare legs before pausing on the lacy panties hugging your hips.
Ten years. It had been ten fucking years since he had sex. And you were so goddamn beautiful and perfect, spread out for him with your chest heaving and lust filling your eyes as you waited for him to snap out of it and come join you.
His gaze met yours and something unspoken passed between you. You both had your respective baggage and you each knew it, yet you trusted one another with the most sensitive pieces of your souls. And that had to mean something. That had to mean what you had was special.
He bent forward, fists pressing into the mattress on either side of you, and began to pepper kisses up your legs. He could hear your breath grow heavy the closer he got to the apex of your thighs and it made him smile to hear someone so perfect as you become so affected by his touch. He had hardly done anything and already you were wiggling and offering him soft little moans when you felt his exhale fan over your clothed sex.
There was no way he was going to last. Ten years. He wasn't even sure he still remembered his old moves. Even if he did, he wanted you so badly he probably wouldn't have enough time before he came.
But there was one thing he did remember how to do, and if his memory served him well, he was pretty damn good at it.
"Can I take these off, honey?" he asked with his fingers looped around the sides of your panties. His voice came out deeper than he expected, making a shiver shoot down your spine.
"Mhmm," was all you could manage, then you squeezed your legs together and lifted your hips, giving him what he needed to gently pull your underwear down your legs then tossed them onto the floor.
He inhaled sharply when your legs fell open, revealing the wetness that had already collected, all slick and shiny and just for him.
"Goddamn, you're perfect," he said breathlessly. His hands spread wide over your soft thighs, moving slowly to curve around and hold you open. When his knees hit the carpeted floor and he settled his shoulders between your legs, he heard your breath quicken. His cock twitched, still stuck in the restricting confines of his jeans, when he saw a fresh drip of arousal roll through your slit, and he couldn't hold back. He lunged forward, tongue curling to catch it with a groan, not even registering the surprised noise you made. His eyes fluttered closed as he went back for more, lips suctioning around your folds and tongue diving inside for another taste.
"O-oh my god, Joel," you moaned, fingers clawing uselessly at the sheets. His chest swelled with pride, your broken voice only serving to encourage him further.
Your mind went blissfully blank as he expertly dragged his tongue up and down, collecting every drop of your arousal and swallowing it eagerly. His jaw worked steadily, widening his mouth with each messy kiss against your cunt. Every flick of his tongue was deliberate, every suck of his lips exquisite. He had you trembling under his grasp in a matter of minutes, completely forgetting that it had been a long time since you had last been touched, as well.
When your hands grabbed roughly at his hair, he grunted but never faltered. The slight pain prickling his scalp from the sharp tugs on his greying curls kept him focused and in the moment. It made him pay attention to every sound and thrust of your hips, memorizing what made you come undone. But when his tongue was flooded with another wave of arousal, all thick and sweet and musky, it had his head swimming and his own hips bucking pathetically against the side of your bed.
He forgot how much he fucking loved this. How enjoyable it was to have a gorgeous woman become a writhing mess from his mouth. To hear his name like a song inbetween heavy gasps of air. To run his tongue over the softest and warmest place imaginable. To hear the high pitched whines when he finally scraped his teeth over that swollen bud he always saved for last.
"Oh, fuck!" you cried out when his lips wrapped around your clit. "Fuck! Joel- ohmygod - Joel... please d-don't stop, please..." you begged, his cock swelling painfully in his jeans at the sound. He groaned loudly in response, refusing to remove his mouth even for a second. You tasted too good and sounded even better, he just couldn't get enough.
You were chanting curses mixed with his name, hips rocking against his face in rhythm with every swirl of his tongue around your clit. Under his fingers, your thighs tensed and he smiled to himself before he scraped his teeth gently over your bundle of nerves once again.
His timing was perfect. You shouted his name, voice raspy and broken. Your legs clamped around his head when you came with one more wave of slick coating his tongue. He lapped at your center like an animal, groaning and licking and sucking until you couldn't handle it any more. Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, pulled him off you with a gasp, too sensitive to allow him to continue.
"You got a dirty mouth, baby," he teased with a wet, crooked grin. You laughed, face and neck covered in a thin layer of sweat.
"That's rich, considering what you just did with your mouth."
Joel chuckled as he finished undoing his jeans. He let them rest on the floor next to yours, no longer caring how dirty his clothes were, but he found himself hesitating for just a moment when his fingers found the hem of his shirt. You might have noticed, he couldn't be sure, because you sat up on your knees, inching forward til you were at the edge of the bed. Your hands replaced his and you slowly raised his shirt over his head, eyes instantly falling to take him in.
Running and eating better had made his middle a little less soft, but he still had twenty years on you and his body simply wasn't what it used to be. He worried for weeks what you would think of him but as it turned out, you didn't even give him a chance to wonder when you finally laid eyes on him.
"So handsome," you murmured, running your palms over his broad shoulders and down his pecs. That insecure part of himself normally wouldn't have believed you, but when he saw the heady look in your eye, all doubt was erased from his mind.
"Your turn," he said, fingers plucking at your tshirt. He wanted to get the attention off him but he also desperately wanted to see the rest of you.
You lifted your arms above your head so he could peel your shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him. He might have been rusty, but he certainly remembered how to remove a bra, doing it with lightning fast speed that had you giggling until his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, melting your laugh into a moan.
Joel flattened his tongue over the hardening bud, his mouth warm against the soft skin of your breast. Your breath stuttered and your fingers flew up to grab onto his shoulders when the tip of his tongue flicked against your nipple before biting and sucking at your soft flesh.
"Perfect," he groaned before releasing your breast just to give the same attention to the other. Your head tipped back, a wrecked moan shuddering through you under his attentive care. "You're so perfect, baby," he mumbled, pressing a wet kiss between your breasts, right over your heart.
Your cheeks flared with heat at his compliment but you took it in stride. Swallowing tightly, you leaned back out of his hold, crawling backwards up the bed and grinning when Joel followed like a moth to a flame.
Hovering over you, his eyes danced over your now bare body with a look of awe. His obvious appreciation and adoration made you feel like a goddess, which was fitting considering he had just been on his knees for you.
"I'm the luckiest man in the world, y'know that?" he whispered while one rough hand brushed lovingly over your stomach and down your hip. You ignored his question, instead focusing on pushing down the band of his boxers, the final barrier between you both. When he kicked them off, his gaze still pinned to your body, your jaw dropped in surprise.
You had never been one to really care much about size when it came to men, your only concern was that they knew how to use it. But when you saw Joel's thick, heavy cock bobbing between you as he shifted his weight, all you could think about was how delicious that stretch would feel when he first entered you.
"Looks like I'm the lucky one," you joked. His eyes found yours again and you saw his cheeks flush with a bashful shake of his head. "It's true," you insisted when he settled onto his elbows. You tried to ignore his cock prodding at your stomach so you could tell him sincerely, "I think we're both lucky."
He smiled wide at that, his eyes squinting and causing the creases next to them to deepen. You smiled back, tracing one of the wrinkles with your fingertip before pushing his hair back behind his ear. Then you curled your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down the rest of the way so you could press your mouth against his.
His tongue dipped slowly into your mouth, giving you the faint taste of yourself while he lifted his hips ever so slightly to blindly line himself up with your entrance. With the tip of his cock pressed against your opening, he mumbled are you ready? into your lips, and you nodded.
Joel tried to kiss you again at the same time he pushed inside you, but your head immediately tipped back with a sharp gasp, so instead he placed sweet kisses against your throat while slowly feeding you his cock, inch by inch, until finally bottoming out with a rough groan.
"Oh, fuck," he rasped, hot breath fanning across your even hotter skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to move. "Y'feel so good. Shit - so fuckin'..."
He couldn't even finish his thought. The way you fit around him so perfectly had him spiraling. You were so tight, so velvety soft and warm that he was fearful if he moved, he would come embarrassingly fast. Fortunately, it seemed you needed some time to adjust, as well. Your breath was shallow and fast, fingers digging harshly into his skin as you desperately tried to ground yourself.
"God, Joel..." you finally moaned, the sound causing goosebumps to flash across his arms. "You're so... fucking big," you added breathlessly. Joel felt his cock twitch and you gasped.
"Can't talk like that, baby."
"I can't help it," you whined, wiggling underneath him as your body slowly became used to his girth. "You feel so good, I feel so full-"
Joel cut you off, crashing his mouth hungrily against yours. You made a little surprised noise in the back of your throat then moaned into his mouth when his hips drew back slowly. You almost complained, almost begged him for more but then he sunk back inside you, stretching your walls and bringing tears to your eyes. He made it a few minutes, slowly rolling his hips, cock splitting you open while searching for that spot he knew would make you scream, but another sign of his age cropped up at the worst time, making him wince and stall mid thrust.
"What's wrong?" you panted, immediately sensing his discomfort.
Joel grunted and let his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. "My goddamn back-"
"Lay down," you commanded, pushing him by the shoulders. He frowned and leaned up to look at you.
"I'll do all the work," you told him sweetly, pecking at his lips before giving him another push, but he didn't budge.
"Sweetheart-"
"I said I was going to take care of you, didn't I?" you challenged with a quirked eyebrow. "And so far, you're the one taking care of me."
He smirked and rolled his eyes but did as you asked, pulling out of you and earning a huff from you both.
Joel didn't love the idea of not being able to give you what you needed. He didn't want you to work for anything. He wanted to take care of you as much as you wanted to take care of him. But when you straddled his lap and positioned yourself to sink down on his cock, the sight alone made him forget all about the somewhat humiliating disturbance because you looked so goddamn gorgeous fucking yourself on top of him.
"Oh, shit, honey, look at you," he sighed. You whimpered, fingers digging into his chest for leverage as you bounced up and down on his lap. His hands found your waist, helping you move and steady yourself as you chased your high. "Yeah, that's it. Take what you want. Take it," he said through clenched teeth. Your breasts bounced and swayed, taunting him just out reach, but the visual made him pulse inside you, already dangerously close to his climax.
"Fuck, you're so deep," you moaned. Joel's eyes slid shut, trying his best to stave off his orgasm. He racked his brain to remember what made you fall apart for him before, but he could hardly think straight. The tension was pulling tight in his stomach each time to dropped yourself down on his cock. His skin tingled hearing every breathy moan tumble from your lips, all because of him.
And it was all too much.
"Touch yourself," he grunted, fingers digging harder into your waist. "C'mon, baby, touch yourself f'me. Can't -" He groaned when you started to roll your hips, your soaked cunt gripping him beautifully. "Can't last much longer," he finally was able to say.
You did as you were told, two fingers pressing desperately against your clit as you continued to ride him. Your face was slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head once you found a rhythm you liked. You looked absolutely breathtaking like that, spread out and full of him with your face contorted in pleasure. He had never seen you like that before. It was filthy and raw and desperate.
"Goddamnit," Joel growled, lifting his hips to match your pace. Each time he buried himself deep inside you, he let out a harsh grunt. The intensity and desperation was sending you both quickly over the edge. "I'm gonna come, darlin', 'm sorry," he murmured.
"Please," you begged, fingers working fast over your clit. You inhaled sharply and your movements stuttered. "Please come for me, Joel," you whispered with your eyes closed.
When he felt that familiar heat licking its way up his spine, he went to pull you off his lap, but your thighs clenched around him, keeping you in place.
"It- it's o-okay," you stammered. He had no time to ask you to elaborate. With a loud groan he finally let go, pumping you full of his spend. His orgasm was so intense, he swore his vision blacked out for a second. He blinked rapidly until you appeared before him again, just in time to watch you come on his cock with a strangled moan.
"That's it," he cooed, fighting for air like he had just run a fucking marathon. Your eyebrows pinched together and your mouth hung open as you ground down on his lap, riding out your high. When your cunt clenched around him, he felt one last burst of release paint your walls, the sheer force from the last several minutes making him lightheaded.
Your arms began to shake and a moment later, you collapsed onto his chest, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh. He could feel your heart racing with his while you held each other, gasping for air until you each calmed down and your breathing returned to normal.
"I got a, uh," you began, breaking the silence with your hoarse voice. You pointed weakly towards your stomach. "A- a thing. An implant."
"Oh," he whispered, "good. Okay."
His arms wrapped around your middle, pressing you against his sweaty chest. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing in deep while you planted lazy kisses against his collarbone. He was still inside you but he could feel himself beginning to finally soften, so he gently rolled you onto your side while simultaneously slipping out of your clutch with a hiss.
He couldn't help himself. He glanced down and spotted the pearly trail of his seed leaking from between your legs and it sparked something inside of him.
"I made a mess of you, sweetheart," he murmured, voice gravelly with desire as he continued to stare. You followed his gaze down and grinned.
"Guess we're both dirty now," you teased. He chuckled and rolled on top of you, lips latching onto your throat. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this needy. High school? Maybe in his very early twenties? All he knew was he wanted you in every way imaginable. He felt like a man on the verge of death in the middle of the desert who stumbled across an oasis.
"Joel," you moaned when his hand dropped to cup your breast and his cock, by some goddamn miracle, began to slowly stiffen once again.
"Hmm?"
"I - I need a break," you admitted sheepishly, fingers combing gently through his hair. "And maybe a shower."
He grinned and stopped running the pad of his thumb over your nipple so he could lean up on his elbows to look at you.
"Want some company with that shower?"
You giggled and nodded. "But nothing funny! This is a business shower, okay?"
"Business shower?" he repeated with his dark eyes sparkling. He was so happy he could burst.
"Yes. A business shower. Nothing ... sexy," you said with a wave of your hand. You gave his shoulder a shove and he rolled off you long enough for you to wiggle out from underneath him, heading in the direction of your bathroom. His eyes immediately locked on your naked body and he flung himself out of bed, back pain long forgotten.
"Ain't possible to not have a sexy shower if you're in there," he joked as he followed you. You glanced at him over your shoulder with a smirk.
"Smooth."
You only made it ten minutes into your business shower before you caved. But with your front pressed against the cool tile wall and Joel's cock sliding effortlessly back inside you, you were having trouble remembering why you ever cared in the first place.
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"You look a lot happier than the last time I saw you," Ryan said when you sat down on the soft leather couch across from him. You smiled and placed your purse next to you.
"A lot's changed since then."
"Yeah? Let's hear it," he urged, clicking his pen and scribbling something at the top of his legal pad.
"Well, for starters I'm not moving."
He grinned. "That's fantastic news. What's changed?"
You felt your cheeks warm up when you said, "I worked things out with that guy I was seeing."
"Wonderful! And you mentioned his... daughter, I believe? Had an issue with her father dating?" Ryan questioned while writing some notes on the paper.
"She surprised me and stopped by my house. She apologized for what happened and insisted she wants her dad to be happy," you explained, still finding it difficult to believe just two weeks later. "But I am going to sell my house. I need to move somewhere new. Some place that's all mine. I keep seeing Daniel everywhere I turn and I think it's been making it difficult to move on."
Ryan raised his eyebrows and set down his pen. "Good for you. That shows incredible growth and promise to be able to recognize when something is holding you back. That decision couldn't have been easy, either. You should be proud of yourself," he said warmly, making you smile.
"It wasn't easy, you're right. But it's for the best. My... boyfriend, I guess?" you said, the word sounding strange on your tongue. "Sorry. I'm not used to that. He's in construction and knows some people. It's an old house. Daniel and I put a lot of work into it and it would break my heart if it fell into the wrong hands. Joel - sorry, Joel's my boyfriend," you said, shifting your weight on the couch. "He's going to ask around and see if anyone he trusts can find a buyer for the house."
"It sounds like Joel is a great guy."
You smiled and nodded excitedly. "We met at group, actually."
Ryan's face broke out into a huge grin and he clapped his hands together. "What a beautiful coincidence. Two people with the same wound meeting and working to heal one another. That's so powerful," he said before picking his pen back up.
"It's still early but... it feels right. It's a lot easier than I thought it would be," you admitted.
"Easy in what way?"
You pursed your lips and began to fiddle with your bracelet.
"Easy in that I didn't feel... guilty when we, you know..." you trailed off, praying Ryan didn't make you finish your sentence.
"When you were intimate together?" he offered, putting a pretty little bow on the filthy things you and Joel had been doing for the past couple weeks.
"Yes."
You paused and cleared your throat before forcing yourself to meet Ryan's eye.
"I thought I would compare them, or, like, I don't know," you rambled nervously, "maybe I wouldn't like it because it wasn't what I was used to or something."
"And you didn't?"
You shook your head, feeling the tip of your nose sting when tears began to crop up in your eyes.
"And I thought... I always thought it would feel like a betrayal. Like I was cheating on Daniel. But it didn't," you said, blinking away your tears.
"And it shouldn't," Ryan said gently, setting his pen back down to give you his full attention. "I didn't know Daniel but I'm sure he wouldn't want you to live the rest of your life alone and unhappy."
"No, he wouldn't," you agreed, then smiled to yourself when you added, "I think he would have really liked Joel."
"I'll bet he would, too," Ryan said. He flipped open another page on his legal pad and read something before asking, "And how are the legal issues going?"
Your face fell a little bit and you shrugged.
"My lawyer thinks he'll have things wrapped up soon but it just breaks my heart that it came to this. They were always so kind to me when Daniel was alive, I never expected them to be so... selfish and cruel."
"Not to make excuses for them, but people process trauma and grief in very different ways. Unfortunately, it can bring out the worst in people, but perhaps with time, you'll be able to mend that relationship if that was something you wished to do," Ryan said with a sympathetic smile.
You nodded silently and fiddled with the zipper on your purse. Ryan had gotten used to the way you processed information after only two sessions and knew you were ruminating, so he patiently gave you the time you needed to collect your thoughts.
"My parents were upset when I told them I wasn't moving back to Portland."
Ryan remained quiet, giving you the space you needed to speak.
"They think I'm crazy for 'shacking up' with a guy who is old enough to have gone to school with my dad," you explained. "Said I'm making a big mistake and I'm emotionally distraught."
Ryan's eyebrows pinched together. "Do you think you're emotionally distraught?"
"No," you replied. "I'm the best I've felt since Daniel passed away."
"And Joel? Is he in a good place for a relationship?"
"I think so," you sighed. "He lost his wife ten years ago. He's had more time to process his grief but this is the first relationship he's had since she passed, same as me."
"Well then, sounds to me like you are both doing just fine," he said warmly. "Parents always tend to think they know what's best for their children, no matter how old they are. And I'm sure their hearts are in the right place. But they don't see you every day, do they? They don't witness the progress and growth you've made. They certainly don't see how happy you are together. Perhaps with time, they will accept your decisions, but for now I think it's best to reinforce your boundaries and remind them of how well you are doing if the topic gets brought up again."
"Thanks. It's just tough to hear sometimes," you said solemnly. You pursed your lips together and tried not to dwell too much on your mother's negative reaction to your news, the wound still too fresh, but it ultimately only made you happier that you found Joel. He was such a strong and supportive presence in your life, despite the chaos, and you were always so grateful for him.
"Alright, let's switch gears," Ryan suggested when he sensed your sullen mood. "Where are you looking to move? Is the plan to move in with Joel?"
You laughed and shook your head. "That's a little too soon, I think," you said. "I'm looking to rent a small house. I found a few not too far from his neighborhood, though. We're going to check them out together this weekend."
"That's great," Ryan said as he scribbled down a few more notes. "And the job hunt? Last we spoke, you mentioned you had been looking for work but weren't getting much traction."
"Yeah, that hasn't been going great. But I've been toying with this idea, and I know it sounds crazy-"
Ryan laughed. "I'm sure it's not."
"Well... Joel and I were talking. He asked me what I really liked to do and what my dream job would be, and the first thing I thought of was cooking. I absolutely love cooking and baking."
"So you want to open a restaurant?" he guessed.
"No, not quite. Actually, I was thinking of a food truck."
You braced yourself for Ryan's strong opinion, expecting him to tell you it was a terrible idea and that the profits would be minimal, but instead he just smiled wide and sat back in his chair.
"I think that's a wonderful idea."
"Really?" you asked, eyes sparkling. He nodded.
"I think it suits you very well. And it sounds like fun. I say if you have the means and motivation, do it. Hell, I'll be your first customer."
You laughed, feeling your chest lighten a bit when you received his approval. You had been so used to your family or Daniel's judging every little decision you made that it came as a great relief to hear someone besides Joel be so supportive.
"Well, it's just a baby of an idea. Maybe once the legal stuff is settled and don't have to worry about that anymore, I'll look into it more seriously."
"That sounds like an excellent plan," Ryan said before standing up. You glanced at the clock, surprised your hour was already up, and began to collect your things. Admittedly when you started therapy, you weren't sure how much you would get out of it. But in the two short sessions you had with Ryan, you realized how nice it was to have a neutral third party shed some light on your problems without feeling judged.
"Same time next week?" you asked, and he nodded.
"Hoping you'll come back with some good news about a house."
"Me, too," you said with a smile. Ryan walked you back out to the lobby and wished you a good rest of the day. You gave him a quick wave before stepping back outside and took a deep, calming breath.
The seasons were beginning to change, you could smell it. The air wasn't as humid and the breeze was just a little sharper.
You welcomed it, hopeful that the shift into autumn would usher in a new and exciting chapter of your life.
A/N: apologies if I've used the term 'business shower' before. I feel like I have in other fics but I can't be sure.
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bethanydelleman · 4 months ago
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One criticism of Jane Austen is that she ignored the lower classes. I find this kind of dumb on multiple levels, primarily because not every work of fiction or social criticism needs to include every single social ill, but also because she does talk about servants/the lower classes quite a bit more than people realize and what she says is important.
The overall theme: kindness to servants/the lower classes/the poor is a very important mark of character.
We all know that Elizabeth Bennet changed her mind about Mr. Darcy after hearing a positive character reference from his housekeeper, but that is just one example of many. The Dashwood girls are better employers than John & Fanny since they easily find servants to move across the country with them: Her wisdom too limited the number of their servants to three; two maids and a man, with whom they were speedily provided from amongst those who had formed their establishment at Norland. Also, servants tended to brag about having wealthy employers, these three servants wanted both a far away and a less prestigious job. John & Fanny were really that bad!
Another mark against General Tilney's character is that he gets irrationally angry at/scares servants:
To such anxious attention was the General’s civility carried, that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartment herself. “What did William mean by it? He should make a point of inquiring into the matter.” And if Catherine had not most warmly asserted his innocence, it seemed likely that William would lose the favour of his master forever, if not his place, by her rapidity.
“Why! How can you ask the question? Because no time is to be lost in frightening my old housekeeper out of her wits, because I must go and prepare a dinner for you, to be sure.” (Henry, on his father coming to his house for a visit. This may be half a joke, but General Tilney is very critical of the meal)
Mrs. Ferrars's character is made quite plain in this complaint about paying annuities (basically a pension here) to some of her husband's old servants:
I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father’s will, and it is amazing how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been entirely at my mother’s disposal, without any restriction whatever.
Mrs. Ferrars is loaded, and she begrudges paying a few pounds to 3 servants. She is greedy and ungrateful.
Mrs. Norris's treatment of the servants is similar to her treatment of Fanny. It shows the depth of her miserliness (how much could one boy really eat?) and also cruelty:
"I had been looking about me in the poultry-yard, and was just coming out, when who should I see but Dick Jackson making up to the servants’ hall-door with two bits of deal board in his hand, bringing them to father, you may be sure; mother had chanced to send him of a message to father, and then father had bid him bring up them two bits of board, for he could not no how do without them. I knew what all this meant, for the servants’ dinner-bell was ringing at the very moment over our heads; and as I hate such encroaching people (the Jacksons are very encroaching, I have always said so: just the sort of people to get all they can), I said to the boy directly (a great lubberly fellow of ten years old, you know, who ought to be ashamed of himself), ‘I’ll take the boards to your father, Dick, so get you home again as fast as you can.’ The boy looked very silly, and turned away without offering a word, for I believe I might speak pretty sharp; and I dare say it will cure him of coming marauding about the house for one while. I hate such greediness—so good as your father is to the family, employing the man all the year round!”
It also highlights her hypocrisy, as Mrs. Norris has moved in during the play to help with the preparations, so she is getting free meals all week but she won't let this kid eat when he's helping his father (who is building the stage for the play)
Mr. Knightley considers the common people of Highbury before moving a path, even though he likely owns all of the land and can do whatever he wants:
"But John, as to what I was telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly the present line of the path"
The kind Musgroves, who have given their nursemaid a retirement plan instead of turning her out:
A chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who, consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss Louisa.
And who clearly are rewarded for this kindness.
Anne Elliot showing kindness to Mrs. Smith, who has nearly fallen right out of the gentry, vs. her fathers disdain for charity:
“Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and who was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old and sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another day. What is her age? Forty?”
Added to Sir Walter and Elizabeth's idea to cut expenses:
“Can we retrench? Does it occur to you that there is any one article in which we can retrench?” and Elizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of female alarm, set seriously to think what could be done, and had finally proposed these two branches of economy, to cut off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room; to which expedients she afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no present down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom."
Vs. how the Crofts treat the poor:
She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better hands than its owners’.
Henry Crawford's moral fall begins with ignoring the needs of his tenants:
"I have half an idea of going into Norfolk again soon. I am not satisfied about Maddison. I am sure he still means to impose on me if possible, and get a cousin of his own into a certain mill, which I design for somebody else. I must come to an understanding with him. I must make him know that I will not be tricked on the south side of Everingham, any more than on the north: that I will be master of my own property... I have a great mind to go back into Norfolk directly, and put everything at once on such a footing as cannot be afterwards swerved from. Maddison is a clever fellow; I do not wish to displace him, provided he does not try to displace me; but it would be simple to be duped by a man who has no right of creditor to dupe me, and worse than simple to let him give me a hard-hearted, griping fellow for a tenant, instead of an honest man, to whom I have given half a promise already. Would it not be worse than simple? Shall I go? Do you advise it?”
Of course, Henry does not go to Everginham, as he knows is right, but instead goes to the party in London, where he again runs into Maria...
Yes, Austen didn't write servants/the lower classes as full characters in general, they are in the background and around the edges of the scenes, but over and over, we can sort characters into moral and immoral by their treatment of those less fortunate around them.
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kurokawaia · 6 months ago
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❛ HE'S A SOFTEY, REALLY ! ❜
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Feitan Portor X Fem!Reader
WC; 1.9k+ |MDNI! | TW/CW; grumpy x sunshine troupe, you and fei are married >.< (sorry i just love him sm), x fem reader, soft sex, piv, pwp? pwop?, cervix kissing, oral -> female receiving, OOC warning
⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) hmm, in celebration of hunter x hunter returning, can I have some soft feitan smut? female afab reader one shot :3 thank you - @ofrolysdogs
m.list | hxh m.list
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People always say how heartless and inhuman your husband is, but you never saw that. Feitan was such an irascible man, yet always so gentle and patient with you. Won't criticize or put you down for all those little things you do.
Members of the phantom troupe, namely Bonolenov, Phinks, and Franklin, always give you a shocked or concerned glance whenever you walk in. It is only because you're such a bright, oblivious woman and Feitan is the exact opposite that they think you are in danger somehow, maybe Feitan has you contained against your will.
But it wasn't like that at all. Fei was always so sweet and nice to you. Sometimes he does get really rough when having sex, but you don't mind, you like it! And sometimes he is super soft with you too, like for instance right now.
You're lying underneath Feitan, your legs strewn over his shoulders, head arched back on the plush pillow. Feitan said something about positioning a smaller pillow beneath your hips would elevate comfort- and sure enough it did. His constant attention was to your pleasure and comfort.
"Fei," you mumble as his nose nudges against your clit.
"What's wrong?" he asks, catching the whimpering in your voice when he barely touched the most sensitive part of you.
You shift under Feitan's grasp on your thighs, arching your back slightly towards his face for more of his touch.
"It's all right, Angel," Feitan soothes, pecking soft and light kisses on your stomach.
You quiver from the simple actions, waiting for the moment when he will use his tongue and fingers.
"I know, Fei," you said, lacing your fingers into his dark hair.
Feitan moves down again to the most sensitive area of yours, your dripping vagina. "Let me know if I'm hurting you."
As you spoke, a quivering breath came out of your lips, and you assured him, "Fei, you never hurt me."
You cry out softly as he kisses your clit, thighs squeezing his head. You lean backward, trying to retreat from the overwhelming sensation, but Feitan does not let you go.
You cry out, 'Fei'.
"I understand, Angel," Feitan soothes. "I am here to say if it is too much."
God was being so gentle with you that it felt like you'd shatter with a single touch. His grip on your thighs slackened, a real sense that you could pull away if you wanted to. Yet he treasured it as you were so small compared to him and underneath him that he was afraid to break you.
Again, Feitan's nose brushes up against your delicate clit, and your grip on his hair tightened. A satisfied sigh seeps through him into your folds as a mewl from your full lips.
"You okay?" he asks before licking a long stripe up your folds, and you moan, your back arching, and your cunt pressing further into his face which he relished in.
You whimpered in response, trying to gather all the scattered thoughts in your mind. "Yeah, 'm am, Fei."
He loves you so much that it hurts, and your reaction makes his heart sing. His tongue climbs up from your wet hole to your clit while a moan escapes from you. Your thighs constrict onto his head because of the constriction he's causing, and as you grind down onto his face, a moan reverberates through your clit. Your lips were littered with chanting of his name, and he was reveling every second in it.
"F-feels s' good," you whine, tears spring in your lash line, he was making you feel so good.
"You're okay?" Feitan asks.
At the feeling of a finger push past your closing walls, you furiously nod your head, your eyes expand and you cry with pleasure. It felt so amazing that you never want it to end, even though you thought you would break because he was so big.
His finger pressed up against that soft spot inside your walls. Feitan was slow with his pace, curling his fingers every time he entered your cunt along with sucking and licking at your puffy, sensitive clit.
"Good, you being so good," moaned Feitan against you, refusing to rut his hips into the mattress. This was about your pleasure, not his—.
A moan arouses from you, and your hips grind themselves onto his face. He let you for once have some sort of control over the situation, and he decided if you came quicker he'll let you do it more often. "That's it," he praised.
His movements quicker, needier, as you yell his name through your broken letters, and the one hold he had on your leg tightens. The coil in your stomach tightened and your fingers wrapped around his locks to halt his movements and make him sigh deeper into your folds.
The groans only drove you over the edge, and as he pressed his tongue firmly against your clit, a muffled scream escaped your lips. Your stomach coil unwound, soaking his face clear.
He slowly drew his fingers out of your drenched pussy, and his cum spilling out from your puffy folds. Before rising his head, he places a kiss on your clit and your mewl softly in overstimulation.
"Are you okay, Angel?" he asks concerned, pecking away the tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks and to the side of your face.
You hum in pleased satisfaction as he peppers gentle and soothing kisses on your face. "I'm fine, dear," you respond.
"You did so good," Feitan praises.
You let out a tired sigh, your body aching but Fietan wasn't done yet. A trail of kisses were left all over your neck and you gasped when feeling a hot, throbbing tip at your soaked entrance. "Fei!" you moan out, overstimulated.
"I here, I got you," he reassures, a groan slipping past his mouth.
Feitan drags his length out; a breathless sigh emits from your mouth into his own, a look of relief crossing your features as you think the two of you were done. Then, in one swift motion, your head was thrown back in overstimulation and a moan strung from your mouth as his cock slides right back into your wet walls.
Feitan manages to slip out of your walls and gently flips your body onto it's stomach, your eyes were wide with surprise, not expecting a sudden change of position once again. You could feel him lift your hips and place a soft and fluffy pillow under your lower abdomen before letting your body rest fully down on it.
You then felt Feitan's mass press down against your back, and you huffed out softly at the sudden weight. His abs were flush against your back, hands gripping the backs of your own, pressing them into the bed. Feitan's breath tickled your ear as you wiggled your head at the warm sensation, core getting wetter, trying to squirm away from the imposing hold he had on you.
Feitan's hands moved in slow motion, readjusting to hold one of his hands over both of you above your head, careful not to tangle hair within the movement. A contented sigh escapes your mouth as Feitan raises his body ever so slightly, trailing his free hand down the expanse of your smooth back before his fingers meet your slick entrance that is filled with his cum from previous rounds.
Then a heavy, throbbing tip pressed against your clit, and you moaned from the small touch. You tried to squirm away from the pleasurable cause but couldn't since Feitan knew your body more than you did yourself-he knew you were gonna try to run from his body due to the pleasure. So, he pressed his weight against you once more.
You held your breath when Feitan sunk his throbbing cock into your spongey walls, his length getting squeezed by every ridge within your soaked cunt. A moan left both of your mouths the moment Feitan's length nudges the deepest spot within you.
"So good, doing good," Feitan moans, relishing in the way your walls clench him, how could he not want to cum inside, you feel so good.
The hot and heavy kisses trailed down from your ear, down to the dip of your neck to shoulder, and a breathless sigh escaped your parted lips before Feitan rolled his hips into yours. A moan slips out of your mouth as his thick length scrapes across all the sensitive parts of your warm insides.
Feitan spreads his legs apart, knees bent, so any move from you would guarantee closing the gap between them as he places you underneath him, where your beautiful body is still dwarfed by the frame. As expected, you couldn't move from his trapping embrace.
His motions quickened, his cock thrusting deeper inside your needy hole as strained moans and whines escaped your throat. Feitan panted in your ear, an odd deep groan slipping past his lips now and then-the sounds that made your cunt flutter tightly around his length.
Feitan was filling you to the hilt, his throbbing pink tip hitting that soft gummy spot inside my cunt that made me scream out in completion. "I know, my love," he breathed, making you break out into a moan and sigh as your body shook with your pleasure.
Your body tried to arch away from the pleasure, not being able to take the strong rolls of Feitan's hips, but as you arched your back away, his thrusts only aimed deeper, harder into your G spot. You sobbed out, tears filling your lash line. "B-but. Too much, Feitan. Slow down, too much."
Feitan gently shooshed you, cooing you. "It okay, I here."
The moans repeated in your voice while he pounded into your tight heat. You suddenly had this instinctive urge to press yourself against his length, but you couldn't-heavy he was, too heavy for you to move against him-and you were hopeless, utterly, as his thrusts became faster and faster.
"Please, I wanna come," you cry out mewling. "So big, you feel so big, Feitan."
Your body had shaken beneath him and the grip he had on your hands loosened. Your hips were getting held onto now, then the strength he possessed lifted you onto your knees before a bicep wrapped itself around your throat, lifting your head. It wasn't a tight hold, but the power in it lifted your head from the futon as you shakily rested your weight on your elbows.
Your back arched heavily, finally being able to sink more into him. Feitan hunched over you, pulling you closer to him and connected your mouth in a sloppy wet kiss, forcing his tongue inside your mouth, grunting into you while he swallowed your moans. "Taking me so deep," Feitan groaned, pulling away from your mouth and pushing this arch into your back deeper.
"Makin' you feel so good, ain't I?" Feitan groaned, head tilted forward, sweat beading on his forehead as we watched your fall apart and tremble from his dick, broken moans slipping past your plump lips.
"'Wanna come, please," you beg, wanting to feel the release, desperate as the tears stream down your flushed cheeks. "Want it so bad."
With a groan, his lips planted against mine once again as his hips slammed into mine hard, his cum spilling inside me, causing me to moan into his kiss. You feel more of his cum spill into your fertile womb, painting your insides white. You could almost feel your stomach bulging from how much you had of your man inside you.
Feitan slipped his softening length out and pulled away from the kiss as you slumped to the futon, his eyes chained to the white splotches of silky come that spilled from your gaping cunt, watching with a slight frown as the cum fell from your cunt.
"Fei," you huff.
"Fine, I give you break," he replies reluctantly, peppering soft kisses over your face
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Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.
m.list | hxh m.list
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flightlessribbons · 1 month ago
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I take every single opportunity to project my sensory issues/neurodivergence on every character with perpetual headphones- Nino included.
Some headcanons about the main 5 and their persona changes under the cut!
Each protag has something that changes when they're in either one of their personas.
The main two's are obvious and fairly cloae to canon but the other three are a little bit different since they pertain a lot to this AU'S headcanons.
- Marinette's biggest is her confidence and decision making that doesnt always come through in her civilian form.
-Adrien's is his carefree attitude and agency that he doesn't have in his everyday life.
The more headcanony ones:
- Alya is always mediating between her older sister, parents, and little siblings. With her older sister and dad butting heads a lot, and the twins being the pranksters they are, Alya's patient and calm front to the situations helps keep everything under control. Constantly emotionally aware and trying to monitor everyone's moods, but doesn't abuse the influence she has in her family. D O E S however manipulate the FUCK out of her enemies when transformed. Makes the trickster part of her miraculous proud.
Also does gentle parent her teammates when there's a dispute. Only Carapace has noticed.
- Chloe in this AU is like Jane Austen's "Emma": constantly helping her dad keep things in order. Has been the one honestly running the hotel business since she was 10, at least in every aspect but on paper. She sees her dad and his bouts of depression, and tries her best to ease his workload at home at least. She's not perfect, but she's trying. As class president, she tries to please everyone and lead with a firm, but fair, hand. In comparison to the busy mayor's daughter who's tried her best to clean up her image and ebb her temper, Queen Bee is a harsh critic. Chloe feels her emotions much more freely when transformed, and is the most willing of her teammates to do the dirty work that needs to get done.
- Nino's grew up entertaining his brother while their mom would work late, taking on a more upbeat attitude longer than he would actually be comfortable with. This behavior moved into school too, where he got into habit of pushing his social battery past what it should while trying to make everyone comfortable. Doesn't mask as much with the class and his main friend group, and always puts his headphones on as a "do not disturb sign" that everyone in class respects. Carapace is the complete opposite. Since there's no need for a social buffer between the heroes and Carapace was the last to join and was welcomed warmly- Nino stays mute/speaking when necessary and has his gear help buffer his senses. Incredibly observant since he's not draining himself, and is the best defense and tank the team could ask for.
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eddiesxangel · 8 months ago
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Your requests are open aaah 💕 OKAY this scenario for Eddie has been on my mind for a while - imagine hooking up with him (could either be a fuckboy or not) and you're worried you might turn him off when you're riding him because you easily get tired (and in past relationships you'd get criticized for it too because those jerks expected you to do all the work).
in the middle of it eddie can sense something wrong and at first you're hesitant to tell him then you eventually give in, scared he'll stop but Eddie just smiles and sweet and just says "well why didn't you say so sweetheart? hold on" and then suddenly he's wrapping his arms around your waist and thrust up into you like an animal and you get overwhelmed with pleasure and Eddie loves the little whimpers / sounds you're making as you bury your face into his neck 😏✨
-@/daisymunson (because sadly it's not my main huhu)
Sorry this took so long
Your chest was heaving as your poor legs have been working tirelessly to bounce on Eddie’s cock.
“Fuck baby, you like that don’t you, fucking so good” Eddie moaned “I’m going to call you my little bunny. Love hoping on my cock.”
He loved that you took charge that so far every time you’ve fucked, which was only three, you were on top. He could watch your tits bounce for him as your rode him, how your fingers dug into his shoulders for balance. How you would lean down into him to kiss which only made him slip in deeper.
You wanted to enjoy yourself, you loved the feeling of his cock brushing up against your inner walls but, god you were so tired.
The pain in your thighs was more intense than the feeling of Eddie inside of you. The only thing you could focus on was the burning in your thighs, you were worried you would cramp up if you kept going so you slowed down.
“What’s wrong? Are you not into this?” Eddie could see you were off in another world. You hadn’t been making as much eye contact, your face was scrunching up like you were in pain.
“No ,I am… it’s just” you trailed off with heavy breaths as you paused.
“Tell me” he squeezed the sides of your hips, only making your pussy clench down on him.
“My legs are tired…” you let out an embarrassed laugh.
“Baby why didn’t you say something?”
“I thought you’d be turned off if I made you do all that work…”
“Why the hell would I be turned off by that?” He guides your chin with a single finger to look at him.
Your eyes looked down as your face turned hot. The other men you’d been with expected you to be in top, so what would make Eddie any different?
“Because everyone else has…”
“Everyone else— who? what?" Eddie stumbled over his words. He was dumbfounded. "so you never had someone on top of you?!" he needed to clarify.
you shamefully shake your head no and eddie moves into action at lightning speed, flipping you on your back unexpectedly.
"now baby, you just lay there and look pretty. Let me do all of the work."
His hard cock re-enters you and at this angle he is so deep inside you let out a cry of pleasure.
Eddie's hips rut into you at a speed at which you could never gain while you were on top. The sensation was so overwhelming you lost yourself in the moment.
Your soft mewls quickly turned into long outwards moans of pleasure.
Eddie’s never see you so fucked out there was no way you were getting on top in a while if this is how he could make you feel.
His big hands were pressed to the backs of your plush thighs, pushing them as wide as you’re let them.
“Fuck you’re taking my cock so good baby, sucking me in so good it’s hard to pull out.” His eyes focused on the place where you connected. He loved seeing the creamy ring forming at the base of his cock with each thrust into you.
You were lost in the feeling, overpowered by what Eddie was able to give you. Was this the kind of sex you’re been missing out on? Being taken care of your partner. Yes it was.
Your body started to tighten as the impending orgasm was to wash over you. You felt light headed and the only thing you could focus on was how Eddie’s cock pounding inside your pussy. Your hands grabbed his back and your legs wrapped around him like a koala bear, pulling him closer and closer. You never wanted to disconnect your bodies after this.
“Eddie!” You screamed as your pussy clamped down on his cock and a rush of pleasure flowed through your body.
“Yea that’s it, fucking cum on my cock” his hips never slowed, the room was filled with the wet snaking sound of skin on skin. The room smelled of sex and sweat. Your haze never lifted until Eddie’s hips sputtered as he came.
You broke the minutes of silence of catching your breath.
“I didn’t know it could be like that”
“There are so many more positions I want you in baby we are just getting started.
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iamgonnagetyouback · 13 days ago
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voice ⋆˚࿔
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synopsis ⭑.ᐟ remus lupin x reader who thinks she's too loud
warnings: insecurities, self-doubt, feeling unwanted, crying, overthinking, self-criticism
word count: 1,519 words
author's note: this one’s a little heavy, but i hope it’s comforting too
navigation┆remus lupin masterlist┆request here 𝜗𝜚
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Your heart pounded in your chest, a slow-building pressure crawling up your throat, making it hard to breathe. The warmth of the common room suddenly felt suffocating, the air too thick, the crackling of the fire too loud. You curled in on yourself instinctively, shoulders stiffening as if trying to shrink, to make yourself smaller, to erase the space you had taken up.
Why did you always do this?
Why couldn’t you just talk normally?
Your voice had always been too much—too sharp, too fast, too eager. You had spent years trying to soften it, to reign it in, but old habits died hard. And now, just like always, you had gone on too long, laughed too loudly, and made yourself impossible to ignore.
Your parents had told you to use an 'inside voice' even when you weren’t yelling. Your friends growing up had teased you for it—Do you ever shut up? You’re so loud, it gives me a headache. Merlin, let someone else talk for once. Your ex had sighed when you got excited, rubbed his temples when you raised your voice, flinched when you laughed.
You could still hear him. You don’t need to be so loud all the time.
And yet, you’d done it again. You'd let your guard slip, let yourself be too much, let your annoying voice fill the room until there was nothing left for anyone else.
Stupid.
Your hands clenched in your lap, nails digging into your palms. Your mind spiraled, replaying every single word you’d just said, every exaggerated gesture, every second you had commanded attention. It wasn’t even that funny. You weren’t even that funny.
A lump lodged itself in your throat. You needed to say something—to cover it up, to deflect, to fix it.
You forced out a stiff laugh, the sound brittle and wrong. "Er—anyway, it wasn’t that funny," you muttered, waving a dismissive hand. Your voice felt unnatural, forcibly even, like you were trying to fold it in half and shove it into a smaller space.
They were still looking at you.
Sirius, brows furrowed. Lily, tilting her head. Marlene, frowning slightly. James, lips parted as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Peter, shifting uncomfortably.
And Remus—
His gaze was the worst of all.
Soft, steady, thoughtful. Like he could see right through you. Like he could hear every cruel whisper in your head.
Your stomach twisted.
You scrambled for another excuse, something easy, something that would make them move on, because you couldn’t do this right now. "I just—sorry, I lost my train of thought," you blurted, rubbing the back of your neck. Your fingers felt ice-cold. "I—it wasn’t important anyway."
The silence stretched too long. The moment felt too raw, too exposed.
You wanted to disappear.
Remus shifted beside you, and before you could react, his hand was on yours. Warm, grounding, solid.
You blinked.
"You do that a lot," he murmured, voice gentle but firm. "Cut yourself off like that."
You swallowed hard, staring down at where his fingers curled over yours. "No, I don’t," you lied instinctively, pulse skittering in your ears.
Remus huffed, not unkindly. "Yeah, you do."
A warmth pressed against your other side—Lily, leaning into you, tucking her arm through yours. "Yeah," she echoed softly. "You do."
Your throat ached.
Sirius stretched his arms dramatically over the back of the couch, tipping his head toward you. "Thought it was funny," he said simply.
James scoffed. "Mate, you were laughing so hard you nearly choked on your own spit."
Sirius lifted a lazy hand. "Irrelevant."
You exhaled shakily. "It’s just—" You forced out a laugh, but it sounded wrong. "My voice is annoying, isn’t it?"
Silence.
Your stomach dropped. You knew it.
"Who told you that?" Remus asked again, but his voice had changed. Lower, tighter, the kind of quiet that crackled like a storm on the verge of breaking.
You had been ready for laughter. For teasing, for disbelief, for maybe even a joking, "Well, you do talk a lot!" because that’s what people did, wasn’t it? They softened it, wrapped it up in humor to make it easier to swallow.
But no one laughed. No one even smiled.
You swallowed, forcing a shrug. "Everyone."
That was the truth of it, wasn’t it? Not one single voice in your head telling you to be smaller, to be quieter, to be less. It had been a chorus, years and years of looks and sighs and words sharpened just enough to dig beneath your skin and stay there.
"My parents used to tell me to lower my voice," you said, voice unsteady. "My teachers said I should talk less. My exes said I was too loud, that my voice was too sharp. I—I tried to fix it, I really did, but sometimes I just—forget."
The words kept tumbling out, unstoppable now, as though something in you had cracked open.
"And I was talking for so long, and I wasn’t even looking at you all, and I didn’t even realize—"
"Wait, wait, wait," Marlene cut in, her frown deepening. "Back up. You think we don’t want to hear you talk?"
The immediate, instinctive response was to say of course not. Of course, you didn’t think that, not really. That would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? But your stomach twisted, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater, and the words wouldn’t come.
"That’s ridiculous," Lily said, firm. "We love when you talk. You always have the best stories."
"Literally," James agreed. "You make everything sound a thousand times funnier."
"And dramatic," Sirius added. "Like, actually. It’s a gift."
His warmth bled into you, but the lump in your throat didn’t go away. "I try not to be too much. But sometimes I forget. And then I get this feeling like everyone just wants me to shut up, and I feel stupid for even—"
"You’re not stupid."
Remus said it so firmly, so unshakably, that it startled you into looking at him.
He was watching you with that steady, unwavering gaze, his brows slightly drawn, his lips pressed into a thin line. His expression wasn’t angry, not exactly, but there was something fierce in his eyes, something that burned.
"Your voice isn’t annoying," he said. "Not to us. And definitely not to me."
Your breath caught.
"You shouldn’t have to shrink yourself just to make other people comfortable," he continued, softer now, but still certain. "You don’t have to filter yourself around us. Around me."
You wanted to believe him. You really, really did. But the doubt had been planted too deep, roots tangled around your ribs.
"But what if I am too much?"
Remus exhaled, slow and deliberate. Then, before you could pull away, he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with a gentleness that made your chest ache.
"Then I’ll remind you as many times as it takes that you’re not."
Your breath hitched.
You weren’t sure why, but that sentence—those simple words—sent a sharp, aching pain through your ribs, something fragile cracking open inside your chest.
You didn’t realize you were crying until Remus’ thumb brushed a tear from your cheek.
"Love," he murmured, and the word nearly undid you.
You sucked in a shaky breath, willing yourself to laugh it off, to move on, to pretend like nothing had happened. But it was too late. They had all seen.
And none of them were looking at you like you were too much.
Not Remus, whose thumb kept brushing soothingly over the back of your hand. Not Lily, who was resting her head on your shoulder. Not Marlene, who gave you a small, teasing smile. Not James, who was nudging your knee with his own. Not Sirius, who made an exaggerated show of pretending to wipe his own ‘tears.’
"She’s gone all soft on us, Moony," Sirius muttered, nudging Remus with his elbow. "Might want to remind her how loud she was being earlier."
Remus shot him a look but turned back to you. "I like the way you talk," he said, voice quieter, lower, meant for only you to hear. "The way you get excited. The way you ramble. The way your voice fills the room."
Your lower lip wobbled. "I just—I don’t want to be annoying."
Remus frowned. "You’re not annoying." He shifted, leaning in closer, so close that you could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. "You are the best part of every conversation I’m lucky enough to be in."
Your breath left you all at once, like he had knocked the wind out of you.
You didn’t know what to say.
But you didn’t have to.
Because Remus just squeezed your hand, solid and steady and warm.
Surrounded. Safe.
You swallowed past the lump in your throat. Your voice was quiet when you spoke. "I was at the part where my partner set fire to their notes, right?"
James immediately sat up straighter. "Yes! Keep going."
"Yeah," Sirius grinned. "You can’t leave out the best part."
And so you did.
And this time, you let yourself enjoy it.
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© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.
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doromoni · 6 months ago
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Take my Advice | MV1
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⋆⁺。˚⋆˙‧₊☾ ◯ ☽₊‧˙⋆˚。⁺⋆
Ships : Max Verstappen x F1 Driver! Reader
Genre : Fluff
A/N : As per y’all request. A Max fic *tadaaaa*
Summary : Being a female driver in Formula 1 is already an achievement and now you are the leading candidate for the Red Bull seat. But Max Verstappen has some advice.
Masterlist
A question for Y/N please” A reporter stood with a mic in hand, staring you down — the condescension in his eyes was palpable. You could feel your skin crawl as you waited for the man’s question.
Darry? Larry? what was his name again? He was a reporter notorious for asking rude and borderline unethical questions to drivers. How did he continue to have access to F1, you could not answer. You were his favorite target just because you were born with the XX chromosome or that you were too glamorous and girly to be driving at the pinnacle of motorsport — his words exactly.
“People are speculating that you would be moving to Red Bull in 2025 or even earlier, however, you just placed P10 in the last race. How confident are you that you’d be promoted to that seat given your lack of consistency in driving so far? Shouldn’t you think Daniel Ricciardo’s a better option? ”
Barry? Sally? whatever his name was finished talking, yet his sticky gaze never left you.
The smile on your face slowly hardened as you tried to keep your cool. You felt your veins pulsate with rage and your jaw clenched with force. Your hand gripping the microphone that you held till it felt like snapping in half.
Everyone was speechless, including the other drivers that were with you. The people who were seated beside you had their mouths agape. The driver lineup was composed of You, Oscar, Lewis, and Nando, with Alex and Max by your side. Everyone could feel the intense tension in the air. The absolute ignorance and stupidity of his statement hung in on the air…
You were dominating the midfield given the car that RB had given you. You garnered points for your team consistently — only fucking up when your team fucked up their strategies. You were outperforming your teammate by miles and you were pulling miracles out of nothing in that car and in that team.
“Well Danny is a very talented driver and I respect him immensely. I truly do wish the best for him and the team, but it’s not my job to compare stats between us, no?“ You answered with a smile and nothing but praises left your mouth.
Mama said kindness and peace are what make life go around. You lived by this every single day of your life, no matter how difficult it may seem — a smile goes a long way. You chose to make peace and give way to others when opportunities presented itself. Rather catch flies with honey than vinegar right?
You were since then dubbed as the sunshine of Formula 1 — a title that you didn’t want … because it was another thing that you stole from Danny, at least that's what others think. Even when your path to your F1 seat had never been easy, every step you took was criticized just because of you being a girl, but you persevered and faced everything head-on. Through the midst of it all, you, Y/N L/N, were the driver who held smiles, kindness and cheers.
Y/N L/N the driver to always take the blow for the team, the scapegoat, you were always the 1st one to be the sacrifice. But still, you held your head up high and carried on… because it was an honor to have a seat in the first place.
“Let me just get some things straight” Lewis had taken to himself to talk seeing that Gary? Donny? seemed not willing to back down with the intent to make you react.
“Y/N has been nothing but consistent. Look at the charts properly” Lewis argued, his face holding concealed anger as he stared down the reporter
“Thank you for that Lewis, but I did check — Y/N has placed P5, P8, and P10 for the last consecutive races” The entire couch of drivers could only shake their heads in disbelief at the utter nonsense that the man continued to spout
You were driving a car that was projected to be at the back of the grid, yet here you are gaining points regularly. No offense to your teammate but you were dragging Danny through the mud — heck fellow drivers could bet their entire fortune that given a better car, you would be battling Max and Lando for the championship.
“Check again. Check your eyes too mate, cause it seems like you’re going blind” Gaps and oohs filled the room as Max, much to your surprise, butted with all seriousness in his voice.
Max was an enigma to you, the way he switches from a fire-breathing beast on the track to a literal cat-cuddling, sim-racing nerd and overall wholesome person once he finishes a race compelled you to explore and dig into the mind of Max Emilian Verstappen.
Yet you couldn’t because he was untouchable. The golden boy of Red Bull, the champion, their number 1. They would kill you if you got your business entangled with the Dutch driver. Fuck with him and you could kiss your chances at a seat in Red Bull goodbye. Unfortunately for you, you just had to have a big fat crush on the very same driver.
You weren’t even sure when your admiration for Max’s tenacity and sheer talent on the track turned into you looking at the Dutch with hearty eyes and wondering how he would taste on your lips. Maybe he would taste like the Red Bull he always seemed to drink or was it him tasting entirely of something else….. Oh, you were doing it again! Yup, you were indeed doomed.
Everyone on your team said to keep your distance and you did! Not that it was hard because Max did the same. It was weird he was always friendly to Daniel and Checo and even the other RB and Red Bull staff, but Max had this certain “coolness” when interacting with you. He was never rude or anything like that… Max just seemed guarded. Fuck! why did it have to be Max?!
“Y/N, anything to add?” the present hit you quick and fast — and that present was every pair of eyes in the room zoning in on you and your next statement.
You had so much to say and yet you presented the pr smile you practiced way too much, the smile the mirror in your driver's room knew too well. And with that same practiced smile, you stared down the reporter and uttered “Nope, nothing else from me. Thanks”
You swore you could hear Max scoff silently. Your head snapped to the Red Bull driver beside you instantly. You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t Max directly looking back at you with those piercing blue eyes and an eyebrow cocked upwards.
It seemed that you forgot how to blink because you just stared right into his gaze, your heart accelerating by the second — you had the same feeling you had at every start of a race; the adrenaline pumping in your veins, but instead of pushing your foot on the gas… you wanted to push your lips to his. WOAH. You needed to get a grip on yourself! Where the hell did that even come from?
Neither the two of you were backing down, only breaking eye contact when another reporter asked a question to Max. But before Max had answered, you saw him lightly shake his head sheepishly as the words “so fucking cute” whispered out of his mouth.
***
You were so fucking gutted. It was another race that your team had screwed you over for your teammate once again.
You were leading and you had clean air in front of you and your teammate was 5 seconds behind, everything was in place and you were in P10 when you suddenly heard from the radio to let Daniel overtake you.
You loved Danny, but that was so unfair! You tried to argue over the radio yet your appeals are once again disregarded by the team. You followed team orders and thought that this was for the long run that this would show that you were a team player and that you would be an asset as Max’s teammate in the future.
Yet no matter how much you tried to cheer yourself up or make excuses for the team, the anger and betrayal never dissipated.
You were dragging your feet towards your motorhome when suddenly you were pulled into the dark alley between your motorhome and McLaren’s hiding the two of you between used race tyres.
A shout was ready to leave your mouth when the person’s hand stopped you from doing so.
“It’s me, Max! Don’t shout” Max whispered as his eyes darted to see if anyone was looking.
The space between the motorhome wasn’t that spacious, so Max had you pushed into the wall. You could feel the heat radiating between the two of you, the taste of sticky champagne on Max’s hands transferring onto your lips.
The initial shock and Max’s closeness made you breathless and your mind spinning. What the hell is happening? Max slowly peeled his hand away from your lips.
“What the hell Max? You scared the shit out of me!” You wheezed as you breathed deeply, trying to steady your shakiness.
“There’s a difference between being nice and being a pushover. You can’t just bow down to every command your team gives you” Max had suddenly sprung on you. Your brain was reeling trying to comprehend what was happening.
“Max. I- uh… what?” only incomprehensible words fell out of your mouth.
Max held your shoulders as he bent down, his face now leveling yours. Max's face held all seriousness as his eyes, his eyes still shone with fire behind them even with the darkness that enveloped the two of you.
“Take my advice L/N, fight back and do what you want.” As Max said those last words — he was gone.
The only indication that told you that everything that happened was real was the Winner’s champagne tasting so sweet and tangy on your lips … the same champagne Max’s hand left.
***
“I chose Y/N” Max announced to the host and crew who were on the set. Everybody was shocked at the Dutch’s choice.
Red Bull and RB are filming another media junket for the fans to enjoy and everything was running normally till Max chose you as his teammate. Everyone, including you, was expecting him to pick Daniel when the staff said to choose your teammate from the other racing team.
“Aww! Max you’ve betrayed our years of friendship” Danny acted hurt as he held onto his heart, earning chuckles from everyone— which effectively diffused the atmosphere.
You smiled and rolled your eyes at your teammate’s antics. You made your way to Max’s side, careful not to be too close or too far for fans to overanalyze.
The distance between you and Max was at least 2 feet when he took it upon himself to step nearer towards you and smile his charming smile at you when you looked up at him quizzically.
Your heart was thundering in your chest, but your curiosity won over your nerves. What is going on with Max this couple of races? He had been very attentive and approachable towards you all of a sudden. Opening doors for you delivering water bottles, and giving your favorite snacks during media shoots and lots more. Not that you were complaining!
You couldn’t help yourself but ask the driver what was going on. You surveyed the room and found that everyone was focused on Checo and Danny.
You lifted your hand and discretely tugged on Max's shirt to gain his attention. And it worked as he found himself looking down into your eyes with curiosity.
“What is it Y/N?” Max asked lowly trying not to get everyone else to look at the two of you.
“What’s up with you recently?” You whispered back.
Max’s brows slightly crunched together.
“What do you mean?” He asked confused
“ I mean, you’re being so nice and attentive to me.” As the words spilled put your mouth, you realized just how stupid the question was. It was just Max being a decent person, right??
Max only chuckled and bent down to your ears, his lips ghosting the shell of it, sending goosebumps all over your body
“I’m just taking my advice Y/N. I’m doing what I want to do… team rules be damned”
***
Knocks echoed through your hotel room as you heard Max call for you to open the door.
You opened the door to a disheveled Max.
“Max?” you called out to the driver who pushed himself into your room and sat on your bed.
Ever since that day of the Media junket, you and Max grew closer together. You got to know Max than what was on the surface and you two quickly grew a bond that was more than just friendship.
The tension was there yet neither the two of you were acting on it. From his lingering touches that drove you crazy and the flirting disguised as banter you exchange on the daily— frustrating as it may seem, you loved every second of it.
You joined Max in your bed, you sat beside him and took his hand in your own. Your entwined fingers looked so unusual yet right together, it made you smile.
You feel Max tug on your hand trying to catch your attention. You looked up at him with a questioning stare
“They’re switching Checo and Daniel next season… they dropped you out of the roster” Max spoke carefully.
The smile on your face dropped instantly, as his words ran through your mind. Your face is painted white from disbelief.
They choose Daniel over you?
“What?” You whispered, the hurt and confusion evident in your face.
“You deserve to know before they announce it to everyone… you don’t deserve to be humiliated”
You were speechless. Tears didn’t even come pouring down … you were just in shock. You thought that the Red Bull seat was your, done deal. You’re so far away in the points from your teammate. Your driving was close to flawless … so why?!
You couldn’t even say anything. You just felt Max pull you into his embrace.
“If what I’ve heard from Mercedes is true, take it. Screw loyalty, that team failed you in every way. You deserve so much better”
***
“Y/N, final lap. Verstappen is 2 seconds behind, push the car. I repeat push the car” You hear Vince, your race engineer over the radio.
“With pleasure” you felt yourself smile. The excitement mixed with adrenaline pumping in your veins as you floored your Mercedes, driving the car to its maximum
Everything was a blur, you were on autopilot as you made every turn perfectly. As the past events that led to this moment played in your mind.
How you took Max’s advice and moved to Mercedes. You remember the relief when you penned your signature down on that contract as Toto was smiling wide at you, shaking your hand firmly as he welcomed you to his family.
You remember the feeling of sharing your first-ever podium with Max and him being so proud of you and what you’ve done so far. You were still in that scap RB car and this podium was the final “fuck you” to them, before you announce you switching teams. The self-doubt in your heart is being washed away by the sweet champagne that Max sprayed all over you. You knew you made the right choice.
And you couldn’t forget how Max had been with you when you finally dropped the bomb on RB and Red Bull. He had been through with you with every step.
And here you are now, chasing your first win in Formula 1 with the team capable to give you a winning car. You see the chequered flag waving and you hear the crowd roar as you finally cross the line
“Y/N L/N YOU ARE A GRAND PRIX WINNER!” You hear Toto over the radio and your team is cheering in the background.
“YES! YES! THANK YOU EVERYONE! WE DID IT” You shouted back as you parked your car on Parc Ferme.
you stepped out of the car you ran to the waiting arms of your team as they cheered and congratulated you continuously. When you finally to Vince who smiled so wide as he patted your helmet; his smile grew even wider as he looked behind you.
“Remove your helmet and balaclava.” He said as he offered his hand saying to give it to him. You looked at him confused but did as he said.
“Turn around” He shouted with glee as you heard everyone starting to cheer louder.
You did turn around and there stood Max Verstappen with a bouquet at hand, a smile on his face as his arms were opened wide.
Your jaw dropped and your hand covered your mouth in shock. The entire world was watching yet neither of you cared as you ran into Max's arms. You buried your face in his chest as his arm enveloped you.
“Hi boyfriend” You greeted the Red Bull driver with a grin
“Does Toto know?” Max asked as he looked at your team principal and mechanics that were shocked at what they were seeing.
“Well thanks to you EVERYONE now knows. Your not really slick there buddy” You giggled at the Red Bull driver’s antics.
Max kissed the side of your head before mumbling into your hair “ Well gotta let everyone know you’re mine . Congratulations on the win, Schat! I told you you’ll win ~ I could feel it”
You feel yourself chuckle and shake your head. You gazed up at the Dutch driver.
“Shut up and kiss me you dork” You whispered to Max, a gleam in your eye that he sure noticed.
“Yes, Ma’am” Max’s lips finally met yours in a sweet and passionate kiss — you knew what Max tasted like and you wouldn’t mind having another taste. Everything was just perfect and you would not exchange it for anything in the world.
“I always wondered what you tasted like” You said when you pulled apart. Your hand ran through his hair, something you wanted to do for ages.
“Really? What do I taste like?” Max asked clearly amused. His hand on your lower back now guiding the two of you to be interviewed.
“Sweat” You joked, and he only rolled his eyes and kissed you once more.
***
“ A question for Y/N please” You internally groaned and rolled your eyes as you heard his voice once again. This man was an actual menace.
“Yes, Hillary?” You said into the mic, a sickeningly sweet smile on your lips as you stared him down.
“It’s Harry” He corrected you.
“Oops, sorry Larry! please continue” You hear your fellow drivers snicker and hide laughs beside you.
It was like full circle, the same set of drivers in the interview — sat in the same positions yet now you were driving for Mercedes, clad in black instead of RB’s white race suit.
“Do you think Max let you win during the last race? He does fancy you.” You hear yourself laugh and you aren’t afraid to let others see. You’re no longer holding back for the sake of your team.
“I don’t know, Barry. I don’t know if you watched the race, but if you did might have seen that I already led the race at turn 1 till the final lap. no? And I sure do hope that he fancies me, considering he is my boyfriend afterall” You replied and couldn’t help yourself as you shot him a wink.
“You’re very confident, now that you’re in Mercedes. Huh?” Ohhh he was seething, if this were a cartoon he would have smoke coming out of his ears.
“ Yeah, I’m getting comfortable in my seat, thanks for asking. I’m only getting started” You said with a shit-eating grin.
To your left, you hear Max utter the words “ That’s my girl” proudly.
A/N ++ : I don’t know what to feel about my writing here tbh~ My brain is fried 🙃
Anyone interested to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or DM me!
Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v : open for tag request
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hungriestheidi · 2 months ago
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i have a comment re: marta garcia moving away from single seaters.
I have seen some men online point out that it clearly shows F1 academy failed and will continue to fail because its first champion could not get to f1 and i wonder does every man that win an f4 level championship make it to f1? no, so why is marta the one singled out here?
besides, marta has been racing in single seaters for a while now, at least 6-7 years, so it's not like she stepped up from karting, won f1a and then flopped in freca. she's had a career and it may not have led to where she wanted but i guarantee not every man in endurance wanted to be an endurance driver at first and then discovered the passion for it when they were looking for other options to keep driving. because at the end of the day, most drivers want to drive in f1 but most drivers do not make it to the top or manage to have long lasting careers there. it's the principle of the thing.
and while i have some criticism to serve in the lap of f1 academy, i do think it may achieve one very important thing: put more girls on different categories. if marta garcia goes on to drive in idk, the european le mans series or abbi pulling ends up in rallycross in five years, chloe chambers does more hill climbing and doriane pin wins the 24hs of lemans, if we have more than two girls in any given f4 level championship, it would already do more than any other series has done for girls.
it has grassroots level of support with discover your drive and the girls in the cotfa championship, it aims to provide a seat in other series for the champion, it helps with getting sponsorships since they become more marketable the more they are seen, it gives superlicense points.
i think f1 academy is a good, albeit (very in some aspects) flawed series and we won't see the results of its work for a while. but i rather have f1 academy than nothing at all.
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thedemoninme141 · 12 days ago
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It doesn't matter. (anon asks)
Pairings: Wednesday x Female reader.
Theme: Angst. Warnings: Discussions of suicide, depression.
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Wordcount: 3.5k.
Wednesday sat on the railing of her balcony, her legs hanging over the edge, boots scraping against the cold stone.
Enid was sleeping softly in her side of the dorm. Peaceful. Oblivious. Even Thing had curled up on his little makeshift bed, unmoving, trusting that she would do nothing drastic. They thought they understood her.
They thought she was above weakness, above fragility.
Fools.
She had studied death. Pored over it. Dissected its meanings, its finality, its inevitability. She had wielded it in her hands like a sharpened blade, used it as a threat, a weapon, a fascination. But now, she wondered: was a fall from this height truly lethal? Would her bones shatter on impact? Or would she suffer, twitching on the cold stone until the void finally claimed her?
The world below seemed so far away, yet so close. A single misstep, a slight shift in weight, and she would no longer be perched between life and death, she would simply fall.
She had read about people who had jumped. Some regretted it before they hit the ground. Some had died on impact, their bodies broken beyond recognition. Some had lived, haunted by the knowledge that they had failed at escaping.
Would she regret it?
A foolish question. She didn’t believe in regret. She believed in action.
It didn’t matter.
It really didn’t matter.
She sat in the quad, her fingers curled over the spine of a book she had long since stopped reading. Her dark eyes were fixed on a single point across the courtyard.
You. It had been a year since she talked to you, that day.
She was watching you again.
Why?
She didn’t know.
She wasn’t even aware of when it started.
You were reading. Or, at least, you had been.
Now, your book was gone, ripped from your hands by a sneering group of students who thought themselves superior. She had seen this before. Watched from a distance. The same group. The same scene, playing out like a wretched cycle. A hand shoved at your shoulder, another voice laughed in your face. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your fingers curling into fists, but you did not fight back.
You never did.
You had been like this for a while now, silent, withdrawn, smaller. You never stood close to her anymore, hadn't been for the past year since that day. You never hovered near her anymore.
It wasn’t the first time she had seen this.
She had been seeing you, as you closed yourself from.. everything.
Wednesday could end it.
It would be easy. A single glare, a few well-placed words, and they would scatter like cockroaches under a harsh light. She could terrify them, send them running, make them regret every second they had spent trying to break you down.
But how could she?
How could she, when she had done the same to you?
The wind was colder now, biting at her skin as she sat motionless on the railing. Wednesday didn’t move, didn’t blink, only stared at the ground below. She understood now. Why you had chosen her. It wasn’t because you were fascinated by her, nor because you admired her, no, you did admire her but not in the way the others did.
The Hyde investigation had reached a standstill.
Wednesday gritted her teeth, Yesterday’s rain had washed away what could have been critical evidence. It was infuriating. She hated inefficiency, hated wasting time, hated failure.
And then there was you.
Trailing behind her like a shadow, quiet but persistent.
“…Maybe it’s not someone from this school at all, but an outsider?” Your voice was soft, hesitant, barely loud enough to rise above the sound of her footsteps.
Wednesday didn’t reply. Her mind was a swirling storm of deductions, dead ends, and mounting irritation.
“I mean… you’re so smart, Wednesday. I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon.”
A compliment. Empty words, spoken with sincerity, but meaningless in the grand scheme of things.
Wednesday stopped walking.
“Stop talking.”
Her voice was flat, sharp, laced with barely contained irritation.
She didn’t have time for this.
You flinched, but you didn’t leave. Instead, you simply adjusted the grip on your notebook, as if grounding yourself, as if trying to take up less space. Your footsteps became softer, your presence dimming, but still there.
Still following.
Still clinging.
By the time they reached the main hallway, the low hum of students passing through only made the irritation coil tighter inside her chest. The voices, the movement, the constant press of bodies—it was suffocating.
And then—
“…I could help if you need someone to brainstorm with…”
She still doesn't understand what was wrong in that sentence that caused her to lash out.
Wednesday stopped abruptly.
You hadn’t been expecting it. You barely had time to react before you bumped into her shoulder, the force of it barely anything, but it sent a fresh wave of irritation through her already frayed nerves.
She spun around, her hand latching onto your arm before she shoved you against the nearest wall.
“You are insufferable.”
Your back hit the cold stone, you froze, your notebook still clutched to your chest.
“Do you not understand the concept of personal space?” Her voice was rising now, sharp enough to cut. “Or basic social cues? How many more insults will it take to penetrate that thick skull of yours and make you realize I am not interested in your pathetic attempts at friendship?”
She remembers she noticed it.
The way your eyes flickered around, the way you took in the students stopping, whispering, watching.
She didn’t care back then.
“I don’t care about your feelings. I don’t care about your problems. And I certainly don’t care about your pitiful attempts to get closer to me.” Her voice was ice, unwavering, merciless. “So why don’t you do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me?”
She didn’t wait for a reaction.
Didn’t wait to see the way your fingers trembled around the edges of your notebook.
She just turned and walked away.
And now, sitting on the railing of her balcony, she understood.
You had clung to her because she was a wall, an impenetrable fortress of indifference and cruelty, and as long as you stayed near her, no one else could touch you. No one else could hurt you.
You weren’t trying to befriend her. You were trying to survive.
She had been your shield.
You had felt safe around her.
Safe.
Wednesday stood outside your dorm, the same day she had watched as they surrounded you, as they tossed your book aside like it was worthless, as you stood there and did nothing, accepted it like it was as natural as breathing.
And now she was here, because… because what? Because she felt responsible? Because she had spent a year noticing the silence you left in your absence? Because something about the way you had looked, empty, resigned—had made something inside her twist unpleasantly?
Her hand hovered for only a second before she knocked twice.
“Wednesday?” you asked, your voice quiet, indifferent.
Wednesday opened her mouth, then closed it.
She had spent the past hour deliberating over this moment, she had thought of this moment in her head, had run through different variations of how this conversation might go, but now, standing in front of you, she realized she had no idea what to say.
She expected—no, she had prepared for—the possibility of anger, of bitterness. Perhaps even avoidance, a door slammed in her face, a sharp remark thrown back at her in retaliation for last year.
But this?
This quiet, unreadable calm?
It made her skin crawl.
How can she bring this up? How could she string together words that didn’t sound weak, didn’t make her feel foolish?
You tilted your head slightly, waiting. Then, after a beat, “Do you need something?”
Wednesday finally forced herself to speak.
“I saw some students bothering you today,” she said, her voice clipped. “Why didn't you even try to fight back?"
It was a simple question. A reasonable one. And yet, the moment she said it, something in your expression shifted.
You looked… surprised.
As if the very idea of someone asking had never even crossed your mind.
Then, slowly, you smiled. A sad, small thing that barely touched your eyes. "It doesn't matter. I'm used to it."
Wednesday studied you carefully, but there was no tension, no bitterness, no frustration—just quiet acceptance, like this was simply a fact of life, an inevitability you had long since resigned yourself to.
“I’ve learned not to fight battles that don’t matter,” you added.
Wednesday narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like cowardice.”
She expected a flinch, a glare, some kind of reaction at the insult.
But you only looked at her, that same faint, almost knowing smile on your lips. "Maybe," you said. "Or maybe I’ve just realized there’s no point."
There was no weight behind the words, no emotion for her to latch onto. Nothing.
That should have pleased her. Wednesday had always hated dealing with overly emotional displays, found them exhausting, unnecessary. But this wasn’t peace. This wasn’t calm.
This was a void.
And it unsettled her more than anything else could have.
Wednesday held your gaze for a long moment. Then, before she could stop herself, before she could convince herself it wasn’t necessary, she forced the words out
“I haven’t spoken to you in a year,” Wednesday said, her voice uncharacteristically soft, though still blunt. “That day in the hallway…”
You tilted your head slightly, as if trying to recall something distant. “I don’t blame you, Wednesday. You don’t need to apologize.”
The statement caught Wednesday off guard. She hadn’t been planning to apologize, not exactly. But the fact that you brushed it off so easily, as if it didn’t matter at all, made her feel even more uneasy.
“I wasn’t going to apologize,” Wednesday said quickly, more to reassure herself than you. “I don’t apologize. I just..." she sighed, taking a deep breath.
"I just wanted to say I am not one to dwell on past mistakes, nor do I often feel the need to correct them. However…" A pause. Her fingers twitched at her sides. "I shouldn’t have said what I did. Last year."
Nothing.
No flicker of relief, no sign that this meant anything to you at all.
You simply nodded, voice as steady as ever. "It’s fine."
It wasn’t.
"It really doesn’t matter," you added.
Wednesday’s jaw tightened.
It didn’t matter.
That was what you had said.
The same way you had said it about the group who bullied you.
The same way you had said it about yourself.
It should matter.
But you spoke like someone who had already accepted things would never change. Like someone who had given up long ago.
She didn’t know why that bothered her so much. Wednesday exhaled slowly.
"If they bother you again, tell me."
Your polite, practiced smile returned.
"I’ll keep that in mind."
You wouldn't.
Wednesday was feeling tired now, she hadn't been able to sleep for the past few days. And there was the round glowing thing, up there in the sky, judging her.
So the next time Wednesday didn't hesitate. “Are you all incapable of finding something more productive to do than harass the same person every day?” she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.
The bullies froze, their smug expressions faltering as they turned to face her.
“Look, Addams, we’re just—” one of them began, but Wednesday raised a hand, silencing them.
“I don’t recall asking for an explanation, if you want to keep your body parts intact, I would suggest moving away now.” she said icily.
Before she could take another step toward them, you stood abruptly, placing a hand on Wednesday’s arm.
“It’s okay,” you said softly, your voice steady.
Wednesday frowned, her eyes narrowing. “It’s not okay.”
You shook your head, your gaze meeting Wednesday’s for a brief moment before dropping again. “Please. Just leave it. It doesn’t matter.”
Those three words, and here she thought she hates the other set of three words.
She was beyond frustrated. “Of course, it matters—”
But you cut her off with a faint, almost pleading smile. “Thank you, Wednesday. But I can handle it.”
Your calmness only made Wednesday angrier, but she allowed herself to be stopped. The bullies muttered something under their breath and walked away, clearly unwilling to push their luck further.
You let go of Wednesday’s arm and gathered your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” you said quietly, before walking away without another word.
Wednesday watched as you walked away, the ghost of that practiced smile still lingering on your lips.
It unsettled her.
She should have felt satisfied. The bullies had left. You were no longer being bothered. By all accounts, this was a resolution. Yet, as she stood there, the frustration in her veins had not lessened. It had thickened.
Because you weren’t relieved. You weren’t grateful or upset or anything at all. You were just… neutral. Indifferent. As if nothing that had just happened actually mattered.
And that was what disturbed her the most.
She hadn’t intended to seek you out again that day, but as evening settled over Nevermore, she found herself in your presence once more. It was not premeditated. At least, that was what she told herself.
You were at your usual spot in the library, tucked away in the corner where few people ventured. Your book was open, but Wednesday could tell you weren't reading, your thoughts were elsewhere.
Wednesday sat down across from you without invitation. You looked up, but instead of questioning her presence, you simply nodded in acknowledgment before returning to staring at the pages in front of you.
She waited for you to speak.
You didn’t.
“I assume you have no opinion on this novel?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
You blinked, finally lifting your eyes to hers. There was no confusion, no curiosity—just quiet patience, as if waiting for her to get to the point. “It’s fine,” you said simply.
Fine.
Wednesday studied you for a long moment.
A year ago, you would have said more.
A year ago, you would have tilted your head, started a conversation, told her what you thought, even if you knew she might not respond.
But now?
She felt a strange, unfamiliar irritation.
Wednesday exhaled sharply. "You used to be more talkative."
You blinked, tilting your head slightly, as if this was a strange observation. "Did I?"
Wednesday's lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes."
You hummed, as if considering it, before turning the page of your book. "I guess I don’t have much to say anymore."
There was something deeply, profoundly wrong about that.
"You always had something to say before," Wednesday pointed out.
“I suppose I grew out of it.”
Wednesday didn’t believe that.
Not for a second.
But she didn’t know how to make you tell her the truth.
Wednesday had never been one to admire beauty—she found it frivolous, a distraction from the inevitable decay that awaited all things. And yet, she could not deny it.
The moon did look beautiful tonight.
And perhaps it's too late to notice this... has she always been too late to notice things?
It's alright, it doesn't matter.
Somewhere in the months that followed, she had begun to notice things.
Small things.
The way she was drawn to your presence more than she cared to admit. The way her mind wandered when you weren’t near. The way irritation clawed at her when she saw you retreat into yourself, as if part of you was slipping away, disappearing into the quiet that had settled around you for the past year.
She found herself seeking you out, not out of curiosity or obligation, but because she wanted to.
It was unnatural.
It was wrong.
But it was happening.
And she noticed that something else was happening, too.
You were changing.
At first, the silence had been suffocating. Wednesday had spent months trying to pry something—anything—out of you, trying to provoke a reaction, to hear your voice the way she used to. But it had been slow, painfully so, like pulling teeth.
Then, one day, she made a comment about Xavier's iq, and you—
You laughed.
It wasn’t much, just a quiet huff of amusement, barely even there. But it was real.
Perhaps that's what pushed her over the edge.
It started happening more often after that.
Little things.
A subtle smile when she made a dark observation about the world. A quiet response when she asked you a direct question.
You weren’t how you used to be. Not completely.
But you were less silent.
And Wednesday—who had spent her entire life preferring silence—found herself desperate to hear more.
One evening, as you sat across from her in the library, she caught herself staring.
You were focused on a book, your expression calm, lips slightly parted in thought. A stray strand of hair fell in front of your eyes, and without thinking, you reached up and tucked it behind your ear.
It was an utterly mundane action.
And yet, something inside Wednesday twisted.
She dropped her gaze immediately, pressing her nails into her palms.
This wasn’t right.
She knew what this was. She wasn’t stupid. She had read about these things, seen them infect others like a slow-spreading disease.
She was falling for you.
And it was unacceptable.
But the realization did nothing to stop it.
She still sought you out. She still lingered in your presence. She still noticed every detail about you—the way you fidgeted when deep in thought, the way your voice softened when you spoke to her, the way you had begun to meet her gaze a little more often.
She noticed how you were changing.
And she noticed that she was, too.
She had tried to fight it. Tried to ignore the way something inside her clenched whenever you smiled—really smiled, not the polite, practiced one you gave so often.
But it was pointless.
Because this had been building for months now, like a slow-burning fire that refused to be smothered.
And perhaps—
Perhaps she didn’t want to smother it anymore.
Wednesday wasn’t blind to the world. She knew what affection looked like, even if she had never experienced it herself. She had read of it, studied it, dissected it through history and literature and human observation.
And now, she was living it.
There was something deeply unsettling about the realization.
But there was something else, too. Something almost… comforting.
It wasn’t so bad, she supposed, to have someone she didn’t mind being around. To have someone who had seen the worst of her and still—still—remained.
Maybe she could allow this.
Maybe, for once, she could let herself have this.
The Raven was approaching.
Wednesday had never cared for such events—meaningless social gatherings. It was an evening of vanity, of shallow declarations and fleeting romances, none of which had ever interested her.
And yet, for the first time, she found herself anticipating it.
Because this year, it had a purpose.
This year, she would ask you.
The realization should have unsettled her, but it didn’t. Not anymore. She had spent months fighting this, dissecting it, rationalizing it, but there was no use in denying the inevitable. She had fallen for you. The thought of it no longer felt like a weakness.
Perhaps, in some ways, it was a strength.
She had spent so long trying to bring you back—trying to restore the version of you that had been buried beneath silence and indifference. And it was working, wasn’t it?
She could already picture the moment in her mind—she would find you alone, somewhere quiet, away from the noise of the others. She would state it plainly, without unnecessary theatrics or hesitations.
You would say yes.
And after the Raven—
She would tell you.
That she had fallen for you. That somewhere between your silence and your soft smiles, between the way you had once tried so hard to reach her and then stopped entirely, she had found herself tangled in something she could not escape.
She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen afterward. But she would deal with it when the time came.
For now, she just needed to ask you. She just needs to go to your dorm and ask you. She just needs to go to your room and find you.
Wednesday sat on the edge of the balcony railing, her legs dangling over the side.
In her hand, a letter trembled, one she had found beside you.
Her fingers curled tightly around the paper, the words smudged in places where she had gripped it too hard, as if by crumpling it, she could change what was written, change the reality of what had happened. But the ink did not bleed, and the words did not disappear.
They stared back at her.
"I'm sorry."
""I'm tired, Wednesday."
"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault."
"Don't blame yourself."
But Wednesday did.
How could she not, when she had seen the signs too late? When she had spent so long convincing herself that you were getting better, that the quiet was no longer something suffocating? When she was the reason you got away?
You were smiling more. Talking more. Responding when she reached out.
For all her investigation skills, she should have known better.
It was never real.
She had studied death all her life, dissected it, understood it in ways most people never could.
And yet, she found herself wondering—
Would a fall from this height be lethal?
It doesn't matter.
She was going to find out soon anyway.
[Author's note: This was a one-shot ask. So blame anon for the heartbreak. I can't believe I wrote all that in one sitting lmao.]
[Worklist.]
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Taglist: @ognenniyvolk@mally-ka@protozoario@machyishere@freakshow2501@101rizzlrr (If you guys don't wanna be tagged in one-shot asks, inform me, I don't mind.)
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