#idk. i feel like i am all over the place i'm not sure if this sufficiently answers your question i'm sorryjgfkldghf
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i haven’t been here much recently, and i’m sorry i’ve only been negative on the off chance i’ve been online, but let me just say one last piece before the end of this month, so that maybe the next might be better….
#or maybe my time here ends w this month…i’m not sure i guess it all depends on how i feel but as of right now#everytime i think i'm fine i open tumblr and immediately am sad again the whole app has become my doomscroll at this point#i got a notification on a random talking post from a while ago and it felt like reading the words of a completely different person#lately i find it difficult to find any joy here at all when it always feels so lonely… a type of loneliness i’ve never experienced before#everyone always has ppl interacting w them who are interested in their stuff or are always sent things that are reminiscent of them....#i’m always praised for remembering stuff abt other ppl but i wonder if anyone remembers anything abt me#what is it about me that is so forgettable am i dull am i uninteresting did i not solidify myself enough do you guys just not like me lolz#but i don't want this to come across as guilt tripping or being ungrateful to what i do have because ik comparison is the death of joy but#it's still hard to watch when it's so in your face and it makes me think if ppl only talk to me because they feel obligated to#because anyone can say empty words.... i wish my perception of things didn't turn bitter i wish i hadn't become so jaded but#over and over i've felt irrelevant cast aside overshadowed and i cannot exist in a place where i feel like i'm a ghost in the corner#idk i've never felt like This before and i'm at least glad it's something i can walk away from by just....leaving...#sad that this used to be somewhere i can run away To but now it's become somewhere i want to run away From#i don't know...even if i get over whatever this is...things will never be the same for me... i just don't think i belong here#if only i had never made this blog then i would have saved myself a world of turmoil
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#feel like my relationship with my younger brother is changed completely forever not to be dramatic lol but i am sad#we used to b very close but he has kind of. found his faith again and gone full missionary christian which like. i knew meant the dynamic#was doomed lmao but actually acknowledging it makes me sad i feel like i'm grieving for the friendship we used to have even though#it is literally a me problem i think from his perspective he doesn't think anything has changed. but i feel weird about everything#also his new gf is nineteen and he is. almost 25 and i am the only one who feels weird about it like i know she's over 18 but! idk i can't#tell if i'm being overly cautious or if my gut instinct is right. my sister & her husband have a similar age gap but they met when they wer#both over 30 so like. it didn't feel weird. and i didn't feel comfortable actually seriously talking to him about it apart from the first#time he mentioned her over facetime (he went to another country to do mission stuff & met her there) so like an idiot i've just been#making jokes about the age gap becausee like. thats always been our thing lightly bullying each other lol but he blew up at me and said#i've had nothing positive to say about her since he's been back home and that he thinks i hate her and i'm out of line for constantly#implying he's creepy for dating someone younger. idk i felt like such a freak idiot horrible person about it. it completely blindsided me#bc yes the jokes were coming from a place of idk how i feel about this situation so i'm going to rely on the humour-based communication#we have always fallen back on as a safety thing but i guess i was wrong or the dynamic shifted or something anyway it's all fucked#& everyone is just telling me i feel weird out of some?? misplaced kind of jealousy thing?? because i'm 'losing' my brother to his gf lol#which does not feel right at all he has dated so many other girls and i have never had a problem it is literally the age gap like i haven't#even met this girl i'm sure she's very nice! i just worry about her being nineteen!! jesus. and yes maybe i do feel some resentment around#a brother younger than me who seems to be able to live his life with zero difficulty whilst i'm stuck being this unemployed loser who ruins#literally ever friendship & relationship ive ever had but i think thats ok right like i can't help feeling that. i don't fucking knowwww#am i just projecting all these sad feelings about our friendship dying onto his new relationship or like. am i right to be genuinely#concerned she's six years younger than him and still a fucking teenager!!!!!! i don't know
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#hooo boy don't shoot me for saying this but i'm not feeling that main theme sorry#(datv main theme; it's been posted on youtube)#it's so busy and all over the place and i'm not feeling it#it sounds a little generic idk. something about it is not hitting.#i feel like hans zimmer went oh video game soundtrack and only put 50% of his energy in it#I'm sure the rest of the score is fine ig I am just nah this ain't it idk#yeah I'm going to bitch and i'm still going to play dragon aged television day 1 what about it#tbd
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im really sorry if this question ends up being repetitive: but, if not for bruce’s over reliance on dick to regulate his thoughts and emotions, why would dick grow up into feeling like he needs to repress his emotions so much and his eagerness to act as people’s support? i know youve spoken about wolfman and his altering of their relationship but if ntt is generally an accurate portrayal of an adult dick, to me this nevertheless sounds like the consequences a parent-child relationship where the responsibilities are titled too much towards the child
i suppose this could also segue into asking for recs that would help me better understand your interpretation of their relationship 👀
not repetitive at all! to me the irony of wolfman's depiction of dick lies in that it is simultaneously something you can logically ascertain from prior canon but not for the reasons actually presented by wolfman. if that makes sense. he does extra work that isn't actually necessary to help explain why dick would act the way that he does because there's plenty of reasons for it without rewriting his history with bruce to have always been suppressed and edgy and dark. to me it makes far more sense to capitalize on the inevitable disconnect between bruce and dick as an adult and a child. batman: full circle is a good example of that dichotomy (and although it was published in the early 90s it built on mike w. barr's prior understanding of the relationship between dick and bruce that he wrote into the early 80s). bruce's primary concern for the people he works with is never standards or finesse but safety. he worries constantly about others coming to harm under his watch and with a child in particular those worries were exacerbated. he ran a tight ship not because he believed dick had anything to prove but because the only way dick could keep being robin was if he went about it safely. that was obv easy for an adult to understand. but not so much for a child
to bruce these worries were practical and par for the course (as well as an expression of his love and protectiveness) but for dick their consequences formed the crux of his entire world. as a child he idolized everything about bruce. his heroism. his work ethic. his skill. his resolve. his preparedness. if dick couldn't live up to the standard he set for himself in idolizing bruce then what could he ever hope to amount to? that was the thought constantly going through his head. and it's why the bulk of his childhood and primary tenure as bruce's partner was so precariously protected by the fact that nothing bad ever really happened during it (and admittedly this framing is convenient because even chronologically speaking nothing very significant happened in their history with each other until dick left for university in 1969) (i know dixon opted to write that whole shtick with dent in his version of events but personally i never found it necessary to do so). there is enough there in the idea of dick working hard for the course of a decade to embody who he believed bruce to be that lends itself to it eventually being difficult for him to healthily express himself once the rift between them actually began to emerge
because what about bruce was there to actually see that was broken and dark before dick became an adult? i know a lot of dick fans hate batman #408 because they don't like that it enforced "retirement" upon dick (which i personally believe is a conclusion they come to because of the way batman #416 re-framed the same scene) but to me that's an inaccurate reading of the text. batman #408 was about bruce (admittedly far too belatedly) recognizing that he could not in good conscience continue to ask dick to go out and be a vigilante on what he considered to be his own "orders". he viewed dick's close call with death at the hands of the joker as something directly of his own making. although their tenure with each other had been wonderful if dick wanted to continue to be a vigilante it had to be on his own terms and of his own volition. obv that was logical to bruce and it was something dick managed to accept in the moment. but it's still hard to go from always having a purpose alongside someone you idolized to finally being entrusted entirely to forge your own
in general i like the idea of dick the adult becoming privy to all of the personal problems and conflicts that come with being a vigilante. he was conveniently shielded from a lot of those problems as a child because all he had to do was be bruce's partner and hope to live up to the title. bruce had no reason to trauma dump on him or talk about his worries and concerns at length with him because it was never supposed to be dick's job to field those worries and concerns in the first place. he was a child. the only thing bruce wanted to do was to help channel his emotions through an outlet and provide him with a home to grow up in. but when you become an adult often that dynamic shifts. you're still not responsible for fielding those worries and concerns but you can perhaps be trusted with them. that's why i like the framing in batman #408 of dick now being a man. it's a subtle way to frame the double-edged sword of adulthood. the world is in your hands now but so will be the horrors that come with it. coming to terms with the real world that bruce lives in should be hard for dick. coming to terms with who bruce is when he's not perfect should be hard. coming to terms with how quietly bruce kept his grief because he did not see fit to overwhelm a child with it should be hard. that dichotomy of dick both wanting to be bruce's brother and his son should form the crux of their conflict with each other because you can't hope to be someone's equal and someone's protected at the same time in that kind of relationship. for dick to transition into the position of equal he has to expose himself to the fact that bruce is not in fact an idol but someone irrevocably human. and that should interfere significantly with his head and his own standards for himself
#all of this to say. i don't think it's so much about pre-ntt canon directly predicating ntt-dick's characterization#like it's not these events happened in the 60s and 70s so that's why he acts this way in the 80s#it's more the opposite. because these things Didn't happen in the 60s and 70s. that's why being on his own in the 80s is hard#dick wants so badly to be bruce's equal and an adult and a leader and someone trusted by others#but those are all things easier said than done. and the worst tragedy of it is that the bruce dick knows from childhood#is not the bruce he knows in adulthood. they are from the same person. but they are still different#because there are things dick is allowed to see as an adult that bruce spared him from when he was a child#and on one hand that was the right thing to do. but on the other hand it's devastating. because dick obv doesn't know how to cope#how do you cope with the fact that your decade-long idol is not in fact what you made him up to be#(and the thing is it's not that bruce isn't what dick made him up to be) (it's that he's also other things)#(he's sad. he's guilty. he's exhausted. sometimes he doesn't know how to go on)#reconciling with those realities should be unbearable for dick. because being robin has given him so much purpose#and while being batman gives bruce purpose too there are also so many times where he absolutely bends under the weight of it#and that sight should be frightening to dick#that's why i really like knightfall. or the potential of it because i mean prodigal did not deal with the aftermath of it#in a way that i liked at all. it was quite underwhelming#and then you guys obv know my issues with the framing of dick's reaction to jason's death and his conversation with bruce there#but the idea of dick needing to cope with bruce being a human capable of breaking under his own imposed duties is impt#and so my reading of their relationship is less about things written explicitly in text and more about drawing logical inferences#idk. i feel like i am all over the place i'm not sure if this sufficiently answers your question i'm sorryjgfkldghf#outbox
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the goddamn toast water post just made me utter "history is fucking real" in the most solemn and serious tone of voice, out loud, to myself, in the goddamn bathtub
#life is ridiculous and I'm its biggest clown#in my defense it's not even 9 am and I woke up at 6 for some reason (the reason prob being that I start work at 6 atm)#so I chose (violence) reading Stray Gods fic in bed for a few hours followed by the need to just vibe in the bathtub#I've only just had my coffee and a slice of cold pizza leftover from yesterday and it's such a uni-days thing to do#I've kinda missed it. tho I wasn't drinking coffee back then (how the fuck did I survive mornings without it??)#anyway. feeling very soft and tender abt my past self today. I miss her even if she was just as much of a mess. in different ways#the kind of mess who would openly flirt with some strange dude she didn't really know over the phone#the kind of mess who moved across the country just for a chance at trying with sb she liked who really never wanted to date her#the kind of mess who's always fallen for her best friends and who'll likely never stop#the kind of mess who feel so damn hard for a woman 15 yrs older than her just bc she was kind and sweet and a mess herself#the kind of mess who moved in with a friend she was solidly in love with for a bit who had her boyfriend over most nights#just.. it's not all about those feelings but they're decidedly a big part of why I've ever done anything#and I will prob always miss the friend who'd lie on the train platform with me just giggling into the night as ppl walked past#her head on my stomach and me just feeling so high it felt like I'd never stop floating (just for a while though)#I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that Mi miss just letting my feelings take me places even at the risk of losing it all#I'm so much more hesitant and guarded now. and sure part of it is being medicated for my bipolar. it's good that I don't call strangers#and almost invited them over. or that I no longer walk barefoot through the city at night by myself (usually)#but I do miss just idk. intimacy I guess. and how easily it used to come to me to just try and be open abt wanting it I guess#oh well. best be getting out of the bathtub. it's not a good place to be with these thoughts. and it's too early for this anyway#a day in the life of..
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i need to post about palestine on facebook but i'm fucking terrified
#i went to a very jewish college and a very decent percentage of my fb 'friends' are jewish zionists.#i don't use fb often but when i've checked recently‚ i've found a handful of pro-israel posts‚ and they've been well-received.#i have seen one person put a palestine frame on their profile picture. they got a small‚ mostly positive but some negative‚ response.#that's all the reference i have here.#and very importantly: i feel like pretty much anything i say is going to be received as goysplaining.#i think my best bet is to stay away from historical arguments (like‚ yes palestine does actually exist‚ yes it was bad to force them off of#their land in the first place‚ etc)#and also avoid my personal feelings on this re: my relationship with judaism (which is integral to the message i want to send but w/e)#and focus on israel's very obvious current indefensible actions.#however. i feel like i'm doing the movement a disservice if i don't call for a free palestine and explain what that actually means.#but doing that would increase my risk of getting dogpiled from 'high' to 'inevitable'.#and i am not articulate!!! people might try to rebut me‚ and i am very bad at debate!!!!!!! i have multiple anxiety disorders!!!!!!#and people get fired over this kind of thing. i know the chance is small‚ but i don't know if i want to risk my career over this.#my gut is telling me to wait until i'm sure. but i don't know if or when that will happen.#i want to change *someone's* mind‚ but idk if i'll even be able to do that. maybe just my uninformed hometown gentile friends'.#i want to do this before it's 'too late'. but what does 'too late' mean here? my fb friends aren't launching the missiles.#i suppose my goal is to help turn the tide of public opinion‚ in the hopes that that'll affect the politicians/corps at play here.#but maybe i'm more likely to do that by marching. making posters. talking to acquaintances. who knows what else.#just because i don't *see* those minds change doesn't mean they're not changing. maybe those minds are actually more likely to change.#txt
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whooooo having an anxiety attack about covid. again 👍
#cw negative#cw vent#nowe talks#it's hard to describe what about it is the worst source of anxiety for me. it's not What If I Get It. it's mostly just. it's just.#i sometimes feel like our society has just forgotten that it's a thing. or that society has forgotten that it's A SERIOUS THING.#like this thing that Kills People.#i know it's not lethal to most people but it still is a very serious thing!#why have we as a society shifted from “protecting the people most affected is a collective responsibility#(via vaccination and masking and not showing up to places sick)“#to “well what if all the people belonging to risk groups just deal with this on their own and the rest of us go back to normal?”#idk man maybe i'm sensitive because my grandma died of covid a week before Christmas last year.#or because both of my parents are over 60 and my dad has another risk factor illness on top of that.#idk man. i just feel so. unsafe. unsure and scared and tired. i just dont want other people to go through what our family did last december#i want to stress that i'm not blaming any individual people for this.#my frustration is almost solely directed towards the goverment not taking covid seriously enough#and like i'm not perfect. i'm not sure what's the right thing to do and what's me overreacting.#i recognize that i am often incapable of thinking clearly about this subject#sometimes i feel like i am the only one in my circle (family included) who is this worried about it still. i'm not blaming my loved ones#i'm not saying i'm better than them that's not it. i just. sometimes i just feel so alone with this#and idk how to make it better?#like i have good moments and bad moments with this anxiety. it comes and goes. but. idk.#i think her death's anniversary coming closer combined with the rising covid numbers in my country is just doing a number on me
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I think (as much as I annoyingly complain and whine about not having a partner) being single this long has been good for me. I'm learning a lot about myself and I'm learning why I was a shit person, and through finding the root of the problem I can kind of... start to heal. I can be nicer to myself so I can grow and get better. Because TBH.. being mean and cruel to yourself doesn't make you become a better person. It just makes you believe that thats what you /are,/ and thats what you /always will be,/ as opposed to realizing that you are a product of your circumstances but that does not mean you can't get better and become a better person. Accepting help and trying to get better so you can eventually love yourself – even if no one else does – is the greatest and loveliest thing you can do for yourself. You deserve that love, you exist and you live and you feel and that is a truly beautiful gift.
#uhm well anyway I hope everyone finds people and a place where they feel safe and loved#I'm feeling really emotional sorryy#basically. tldr; found the problem! trying to get better now through loving myself instead of hating myself#its been really hard. its going to be really hard. I feel like ive barely made any progress#I wish I had a therapist to talk about this stuff with. but I dont.#btw the uh root problem: finding out my mother was actually hugely abusive & I already knew my dad was#so basically ive been having to confront the fact that Ive been living a lie and my mother is actually deeply terrible as much as my dad#and my parents should have never had children & ive never had one single decent adult in my life#so basically uhm yea lol. I was born into dysfunction. I was never going to turn oit normal or okay.#so its been hard to like. figure all that out alone. learning I have ptsd and extreme ocd + dissociation because of them hasnt been easy#its made me so deeply miserable because I guess I assumed what my mom was doing to us was normal this whole time?#because I thought no. surely not. surely i cant have TWO terrible parents. I need at least 1 good one right?#but yea no actually every adult has hurt me in some way. and I was never going to turn out alright because#I am the king of obsessing and cycling over everything in my life#Im like. not okay right now but not being im in danger just because I wish I had someone to talk to about all this.#I just need to learn to drive so I can get out of here. I need to get out like#all these realizations have been really really heavy on me and ive been having trouble sleeping#Its been hard to process and I dont really know where to go from here. I guess I cant properly heal and grow until I move out?#idk this has been really long im so sorry.#vent#tw vent#tws ->#abuse ment#parents ment#<- in tags
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a private meeting
summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following conversation type of post: short fic characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia mentioned, lilia, malleus additional info: romantic?? platonic?? idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is more for character interactions. and fun
"I'm sure you're all well aware of why we're here,"
The eight gentleman standing around the dark, candlelit room look between each other.
Leona yawns.
"How long is this gonna take, exactly? I was dragged outta bed for this,"
Vil glares. "Hush. I wanted to deal with this matter in the quietest manner possible, without disturbing the prefect. Sevens know what happens when your egos go unchecked,"
"Look who's talking,"
Another glare, but Vil chooses not to waste any more time.
"Two nights ago, the prefect hosted a slumber party for Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and our own Epel Felmier,"
"I remember that," Lilia says, rubbing his chin. "Sebek was invited, but refused in case someone attacked Malleus whilst he was away."
Malleus shakes his head.
"During this event, the prefect created a list of the top five "cutest third years", as we all know. And, to avoid any childish squabbling, I've gathered you all here to open it as an ensemble. Rook?"
A slim, folded sheet of notebook paper appears from the dark of Rook Hunt's pocket. He holds it up, as if presenting it to the heavens.
"Where did you even find that?" Trey asks, adjusting his glasses.
"Facile! It was buried under a stack of homework assignments in our dearest Trickster's bedroom," the blond says merrily.
"Logistically speaking, that's almost too easy. Are we sure it isn't a fake?" Ortho pipes up.
"Ortho?" Vil asks. "What are you doing here?"
The boy giggles in an electronic chime. "Idia is hiding under his covers and won't come out, so I'm here in his place!"
"...Alright,"
"I don't know what he's so nervous for," Vil goes on. "When I am already guaranteed to be in the first place slot."
Leona scoffs, kicking back with his feet on the table. Vil glares again.
"How rude,"
"He's not wrong. You are the most beautiful here..." a smile creeps up Lilia's face. "But, as I recall, you said cutest third years, not most beautiful. And if anyone is the cutest, it's me."
"Oh, spare me," Leona sighs. "Let's just get this over with. Open the damn thing."
"You're not the least bit curious, Leona?" the fae asks, batting his large eyes.
"Don't patronize me. And no, I'm not. I couldn't care less,"
Lilia smirks, but says nothing more on the matter.
He turns to his tablemate. "And what say you, Malleus?"
Every person in the room falls silent, and then turn to the prince sitting at the furthest corner of the table with his hands folded in front of him.
He hasn't shared a single thought all evening.
"...The contents of this list make no difference to me," he finally speaks. "My feelings towards the prefect will be unaffected."
Rook sets a hand over his heart. "Quelle beauté! I am moved! Not even the strongest of winds could make your friendship bow,"
Leona groans as if he's in agonizing pain.
"Open it!"
"Okay, hold on. Isn't this like, a major privacy violation?" Cater says. He doesn't sound eager to see the results, either.
"I would hate for someone to read my private thoughts to a room full of people."
"He may have a point. This was a list made between friends at a slumber party. Taking it out of that context could be disastrous," Trey agrees.
"There's a 96% chance this will end in conflict!" Ortho chimes in, merry as ever. Leona sighs.
"Can I just leave?"
"No," Vil snaps. "Rook, open it."
"Rook, don't,"
"Rook!"
The poor man observes the conflict slowly unraveling before him, and he sets the folded sheet of paper on the table.
"Now, now, do not squabble! Let this be a chance to celebrate our bonds with the lovely prefect!"
"I agree with Rook," Lilia smiles big. "We should all agree that no matter what is on that list, we'll leave it after tonight and move on."
Vil sighs. "Yes, yes. You're all right. We can't let what they wrote at a private slumber party affect our relationships with them,"
"No matter what, we leave them out of this. Agreed?"
Everyone in the room nods.
"Alright. Rook, read it,"
Rook reaches behind him, the anticipation building, and... is met with a cool wooden surface.
The note seems to have disappeared into thin air.
Before anyone can express their obvious confusion, an evil cackling pulls their attention to the doorway.
Vil gasps.
"Grim! Put that down!"
The small direbeast, now holding a crumpled piece of paper in his paw, smiles wickedly.
And then, to everyone's horror, he eats it whole.
Leona is the first to react, storming over and lifting Grim by the scruff of his neck. "Seriously?!"
"Fufufu. Looks like someone cared, after all," Lilia chuckles. Vil rolls his eyes.
"Hey! Not my fault you guys were so loud! You woke me up from my nap over a stupid list!" Grim says, crossing his arms.
A brief silence follows, and then a sigh. Leona drops him and he lands on his feet.
"Perhaps Grim is right," Ortho says. "Instead of worrying about the numerical grade the prefect assigns you, you should focus on the unique and special aspects of your individual relationships!"
"How eloquent!" Rook coos. "Oui, you are right! Sometimes it is best to let secrets remain secrets."
"Something about the way he says that tells me he already knows what it said," Leona grumbles.
"Ohoho. A fascinating mystery, non? Did I sneak a peek before tonight, or am I just as clueless as you?"
The prince rolls his eyes.
Vil sighs. "Ortho is right. Now I feel ridiculous for getting so worked up over what amounts to a joke at a slumber party,"
Everyone grows quiet, seemingly reflecting on themselves for the duration of the brief silence.
Lilia's giggles change the melancholic mood of the room.
"Perhaps Malleus had the right idea all along. It doesn't matter who the prefect thinks is more attractive; they're still a wonderful friend. How wise- I'm very proud,"
Malleus beams.
"Yeah yeah," Grim grumbles, turning to the door. "I didja a favor, anyway. None of you weirdos were number one."
He leaves, and he takes the peace and reflection with him.
Slowly, everyone turns to each other.
#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#cater diamond x reader#trey clover x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#rook hunt x reader#vil schoenheit x reader#lilia vanrouge x reader#malleus draconia x reader#queued
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nonsense... or is it? | charles leclerc social media au
pairing: charles leclerc x fem singer!reader
face claim: sabrina carpenter
based on this request: sooo, anyways,,, i was thinking maybe a smau where Charles is playing the guy who Milo was and this obviously breaks the internet even more and this leads to them dating ??? idk, just like a really wholesome one where she was his celebrity crush and now they're dating bc of them getting know each other more bc of the music video. sorry if this is all over the place but yeah. - @whoreks
MASTERLIST | BUY ME A KO-FI?
yourusername
liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,200,441 others
yourusername: holla babes !!! the feather music video is heading your way fast xxx if only my real boyfriends were like my music videos ones ...
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user1: MOTHER
user2: finally music videos are back baby !!
taylorswift: you can still make the whole place shimmer ✨
yourusername: thanks to you baby
user3: oh to be able to call taylor swift baby
user4: y/n's shade is so underrated - i too wish her boyfriends were as good as her mv ones
user5: she's got such a good eye for casting why can't she do this in her actual love life
user6: okay but he's hot based off a single shoulder i'm excited
user7: you got that from a SHOULDER?
user8: he's TALL?
user9: babe y/n is like 4'2 she makes everyone look tall
user10: say what you want about the catholic church, they got the aesthetic down pat
yourbff1: so we aren't asking the mv boyf out? boring.
yourusername: we have lil things called phones? USE IT HOE
user11: charles leclerc in the likes
user12: so true of him
user13: unless he's... the guy
user14: babe he's way too short lol
user15: have yall seen the sky ad? baby aint acting any time soon
yourusername
liked by yourbff1, charles_leclerc and 1,763,550 others
tagged: charles_leclerc
yourusername: OMG you guys blew the feather music video up !! i'm sure it had nothing to do with this random guy i found off the street? jokes, thank you charles for being the perf mv boyf xx
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user17: HOLY FUCKING SHIT
user18: celeb crush inception no one touch me
charles_leclerc: thank you for my music video debut, maybe you can return the favour one day?
yourusername: i'll return any favour you want
yourbff1: dial down the desperation babe
charles_leclerc: what if i want her to dial it up please?
yourbff1: do NOT encourage her
yourusername: please encourage me :)
user19: Y/N STAND UP PLEASE
user20: actually y/n is so real have yall seen that man YUM
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user21: y/n is a genius for fancasting her future bf in her music video
danielricciardo: THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT? SHARL WHEN I CATCH YOU
pierregasly: and me :( i thought our friendship meant more ....
charles_leclerc: it was a secret
yourusername: he doesn't kiss and tell xoxo
alexalbon: WHAT ??????
charles_leclerc: okay we can stop joking now
yourusername: fine...
user22: the way charles was defo typing that through tears
user23: y/n make the move we believe in you
user24: believe in her? she can get anyone she wants he's gotta STEP UP
charles_leclerc
liked by landonorris, yourusername and 2,099,441 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: had a blast filming for my first ever music video, thank you y/n !!
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user25: i'm feeling a new unhealthy attachment forming
yourusername: feel free to come back any time soon
charles_leclerc: or maybe you can come to me?
yourusername: is this my paddock debut?
charles_leclerc: make sure you're wearing red and it sure can be
yourusername: let me check the wardrobe
user26: i will pass away if we get y/n at a race... in the ferrari garage ???
pierregasly: let it be known i am still angry that you didn't tell me, especially after all the weird rants i've listened to
alexalbon: me too
georgerussell63: me too
landonorris: me too
danielricciardo: me too
carlossainz55: me too
maxverstappen1: me too
charles_leclerc: why is max here?
maxverstappen1: that's what you're taking from this?
charles_leclerc: yeah why are you in my business
maxverstappen1: you make it my business you talk about her all the time
yourusername: oh really ???
charles_leclerc: HE'S A BIG FAT LIAR HE'S ALWAYS BEEN A BIG FAT LIAR ALL HIS LIFE INCLUDING WHEN I MAYBE ACCIDENTALLY PUSHED HIM IN A PUDDLE
maxverstappen1: YOU DID PUSH ME IN THAT PUDDLE
yourusername: what is going on here?
user27: poor y/n being thrown into the grid drama
user28: poor charles with the grid trying to expose him
yourusername
liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,334,661 others
yourusername: clearly was feeling myself this week
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user31: lol why is max here
maxverstappen1: doing my due diligence as an investigative journalist
charles_leclerc: choke.
user32: is that charles? are we in the soft launch?
user33: let's not get ahead of ourselves, we know charles doesn't dress that well
user34: consider this: girlfriend effect
user35: girlfriend effect is gonna have to do some heavy lifting when it comes to charles' wardrobe
yourbff1: you think you're so slick don't you
yourusername: maybe. maybe not?
yourbff1: you're so annoying
yourusername: annoyingly cute?
liked by charles_leclerc
yourbff1: keep your nose out of women's business leclerc
charles_leclerc: SLANDER
user36: i mean they seem to have the same sense of humour
user37: not to sound insane but they are perfect for each other and i will be passing away if they are not together
pierregasly: interesting
danielricciardo: add it to the folder
charles_leclerc: folder ???
maxverstappen1: leave us journalists be
charles_leclerc: can you even read?
yourusername: GET HER JADE
maxverstappen1: add that as well
charles_leclerc: why can't we win?
user38: what is going on in the house of commons
charles_leclerc
liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 2,331,663 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: i don't believe in soft launches
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user39: we been knew... but OMG PARENTS
user40: i am crying they're so hot
yourusername: hawt bf obtained
charles_leclerc: sexy gf in my inventory
yourusername: you're such a cute patootie
charles_leclerc: i cannot speak my mind or instagram will censor me
yourusername: ...oop hurry up and come back :(
charles_leclerc: about to break all US speeding laws xoxo
yourusername: not you in your charli xcx era
user41: he's with her ... in the US ... could we get y/n paddock debut in vegas ???
user42: would only be right i fear
user43: the scheduling just about makes sense before she has to go back to opening for taylor in south america
user44: now why did vegas not get in their bag and get y/n to perform at the opening ceremony?
pierregasly: way to ruin the investigation
danielricciardo: yeah we were in our sherlock holmes era
maxverstappen1: have to spoil everything don't you charles 🤨
charles_leclerc: i thought you guys wanted to know who my girlfriend is?
alexalbon: yes, but we wanted to expose it :(
yourusername: CORNY
pierregasly: oh no. he has someone on his side now
yourusername: damn right frenchie. i can hear your asshole twitching from here
pierregasly: WHAT ???
charles_leclerc: idk what that means but YEAH PIERRE TAKE THAT
charles_leclerc
liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 2,114,762 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: gutted not to be on the top step but an overall great weekend in vegas. glad to have y/n by my side this weekend before she's off again to slay the stage xx
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user48: charles unironically using the word slay, the girlfriend effect knows no bounds
user49: the sky camera zooming in on y/n watching the podium
user50: i think we watched her fall in love in real time
user51: i mean look at the material... podium charles hits so different i think I FELL IN LOVE
yourusername: you're a winner to me babe
charles_leclerc: and that's all that matters
yourusername: NOPE STAY HUNGRY GET THEM POINTS AND DESTROY THE REST OF THE FIELD
charles_leclerc: okay :)
yourusername: good boy
pierregasly: never say that in public again
maxverstappen1: is this why he's blushing so much in the press conference?
charles_leclerc: NO. NO REASON
yourusername: you sure?
charles_leclerc: i am the unluckiest driver ever and am screwed over at every turn sue me if i like a lil praise
user52: charles is so real for that i also want y/n to tell me i'm doing a good job
alexalbon: enough time has passed. @yourusername can lily get some extra tickets for the eras tour
yourusername: of course. anything for my new bestie
lilymunhe: thank youuuuuuuuuuuuuu. charles you have amazing taste
charles_leclerc: i know :)
yourusername: i mean i got you, so who's the real winner here?
yourusername
liked by taylorswift, charles_leclerc and 1,667,982 others
tagged: charles_leclerc & taylorswift
yourusername: my leg of the eras tour has come to an end :( this was such an insane opportunity, thank you so much taylor xx but this also means i can go annoy charlie until he has to go back to work !!
one last nonsense outro:
i met this lovely boy named charlie,
he races round the world for ferrari,
giving it to me everyday like ari
view all comments
user53: i think y/n might actually be winning in life
user54: is she referencing everyday by ariana grande which is literally just a song about having constant sex?
yourusername: yes and what about it? f1 drivers have great stamina
arthurleclerc: DELETE ASAP
yourusername: no can do baby leclerc
user55: fave outro for real
charles_leclerc: i am blushing !!
pierregasly: she just told millions of people all you do is fuck and now you're blushing ???
yourusername: i don't think mr doggy emoji is talking right now
charles_leclerc: at least y/n did it in an artful way
pierregasly: believe me i know YOU WON'T STOP SINGING IT DOWN THE PHONE YOU MENACE
yourusername: you sing my songs :) ?
carlossainz55: ALL THE TIME
yourusername: i don't like your tone mr 🤨
charles_leclerc: i am just showing my love :(
yourusername: @pierregasly @carlossainz55 you made him sad APOLOGIZE IMMEDIATELY
pierregasly: sorry?
carlossainz55: sorry i guess?
charles_leclerc: thank you :) i shall continue to sing to my heart's content
yourusername: good.
taylorswift: you were amazing !! i'll see you soon my love xx
yourusername: i'm hearing double date ??
taylorswift: i'm sure that can be arranged
charles_leclerc: OMG
user56: charles and travis are really the top tier himbo bfs and i love them for that
fin.
note: i really loved writing this so i hope this was everything you imagined and more!! i'm just getting into sabrina's music but i was a girl meets world stan so... i hope i did the nonsense outro justice xxx
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 instagram au#f1 x you#f1#f1 social media au#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc instagram au#charles leclerc instagram edit#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfic
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do you believe me now? | 9
in which we find out how the morning after went for fem!reader. you finally share with spencer after unanticipated anxieties come up. you're continually shocked by his affection for you.
series masterlist
this series is 18+ (angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (preface none of the bad stuff is done by spencer) sexual harassment, slut shaming, non consensual voyeurism of sorts, blood + pain from losing virginity, talk of rape (nothing like that actually happens), implied nonspecific age gap (someone says he looks slightly older than you) non sexual nudity, showering together, intimacy, ewww being in love is embarrassing a/n: I honestly was not gonna post this today but I decided to bc it's just Tumblr its not that deep also you can probably tell I am just creating problems bc I don't wanna let go of them...... ik this is supposed to be a smutty series btw and trust good things come to those who wait!!!but anyways idk what I'm doing and I kinda hate this!! lolol!!!
Friday morning
The air is thick when you wake up—the angle of the sun through the window is lower than usual, and the binding weight of your limbs as you struggle to stretch in place all suggest that you’ve slept in.
But you don’t check the time quite yet—for a moment, you simply lie there, studying the pattern on your ceiling, downloading the events of the previous night.
Flashes of skin on skin, lips, breaths, whispers, promises. Phantom sensations.
Was it even real?
Your apartment is deafeningly silent, you realize. And you have that sinking sense, which you can’t quite explain but know to be true—that you are alone. Spencer is gone. You can’t feel him like you’d be able to if he were simply on the couch or in the kitchen. He’s definitely not in bed with you, and the sheets have long gone cold.
The truth of it renders about as slowly as your sluggish consciousness does, and you frown, not quite sure what to do with that information. Should you be angry? Should you cry?
Mostly you’re confused.
As soon as you sit up, sore thighs and abs and a strange ache between your legs confirm that last night was not a dream nor a figment of your imagination. You’ll figure out what to do about your twinging body in a moment—for now you rub your eyes and blindly reach for the bedside table, knocking several things to the ground in your quest for your phone.
It’s not there, you realize, once you actually try to use your eyes. It’s not in bed with you either as you pat the sheets, and it doesn’t materialize as you sit on your knees and shake out the comforter.
From this venture, however, you learn two things. First, Spencer must’ve taken it upon himself to get you dressed last night, which you have no recollection of, but you doubt you sleepwalked your way into underwear and a big t-shirt; and second—you bled.
It wasn’t something you were thinking about in the moment, but now, faced with all the evidence and none of the pleasure of last night’s activities, it’s jarring. A stark, unforgiving archipelago of red on a pristine sea of white.
People say, at its best, sex brings couples closer. Spencer once told you it could facilitate feelings of deeper connection. But here you are, no longer a virgin, and what do you have to show for it? A stronger bond with your boyfriend? He’s not even here.
All you have is this glaring red stain marring perfectly good sheets. It mocks you, like something you’ve dropped and can’t pick back up. You can’t think looking at it, and you need to think, and so in a fit of frustration you’re pulling the comforter onto the floor, leaning over your mattress and yanking the fitted sheet free. You ball it up in your hands, breathing heavily—and realize you bled through to the mattress.
Wonderful.
Spencer’s just at work, you tell yourself, grabbing the first pair of shorts you see and pulling them on before gathering the ruined sheet once more and stomping on aching legs through your apartment to the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. He can’t just play hooky because his clingy girlfriend lost her virginity and needs to be comforted like some previously celibate high school cheerleader.
But you miss him so much it’s making you angry, so much your eyes are stinging and welling with tears of frustration as you shove your bed linens down the trash chute at the end of your floor’s hallway. You’re supposed to be independent. That’s how you’ve always been. Since when does it bother you to wake up alone? It’s just sex. It’s not as big a deal for him as it is for you. Or for anyone. You’re the one overreacting, you’re the one who expects too much. He works for the FBI, for god’s sake. There are people dying, and here you are—
“What’chya got there?”
The gruff voice makes you jump, and you turn around just as the bundle is disappearing down into the hole in the wall. It’s your neighbor, Jerry—the one in the unit right next to you. You’re not happy to see him, especially like this. He’s got a blue 5 o’clock shadow despite the hour, and is clad in ill-fitting gray sweats and a pair of ratty slippers. His distended belly strains at the confines of an oil-stained white shirt, tied with a dingy checkered robe. You barely meet his drooping eyes before looking longingly back at your cracked door down the hall.
“Just… garbage.” You shift your weight, hiding a wince as you try to find a comfortable position to stand in. Jerry notices this, and you wish his eyes wouldn’t linger on your bare legs like that.
“Huh. Looks like someone had a late night.”
“Sorry?”
“It’s just noon and you’re still in your PJ’s.”
Disgusting. And who the fuck is he to judge? At least your pajamas are clean.
You shrug. “Yeah.”
He scratches his bald head.
“So that boy tired you out pretty good, huh?”
Your stomach drops. Your brain freezes.
When you don’t reply, he takes the liberty of continuing on.
“Saw him sneaking out of your apartment in the middle of the night. He looked a little older ’n you. You like ’em older?” His laugh is a cruel bark. “Yeah… He’s a lucky man. You know, it’s natural for a man to like a younger girl. Fresh meat, ’n all.” You try to speak and can only swallow a gag. Jerry adjusts his stance, hands in pockets like he’s telling you a local news story. “Heard some of it. Sounded like you were putting on quite the show. And sure, a young pretty thing like you? Hell, I would if I could. But I’ll tell you right now, you don’t wanna end up like my daughter. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but still—three kids with three men by the time she was 24. She should'a kept her damn legs closed. You know, she loved to cry rape, but you gotta ask yourself, if your legs are open all the damn time, what do you expect? Back in the day we all knew girls like that—” he bats the air dismissively. “Guess you can’t call ’em sluts anymore—they get what they’re asking for one way or another. See, I think everyone still knows it and they’re just too afraid to say it. So my advice: don’t let yourself get used up, you hear me? Not by men who are gonna ride you hard and put you away wet. So to speak. Men can smell a girl like that from a mile away, and they’ll take it as an open invitation. It’s just human nature.”
When he finally stops talking, the hallway fills with a vacuous silence. It makes your ears ring. Several moments pass, but you’re frozen. Your whole body feels intolerably hot but your blood is freezing. How are you supposed to react?
“Hello?” He says, voice loud enough to hurt your ears as it echoes.
Get out of here, your more rational self says to the rest of you, and you mumble something, you don’t even know what, excusing yourself to hurry on stiff legs back down the hall to your door.
Once inside, you do up every lock on your door, and face your apartment, shoulders tensed practically to your ears and fists clenched so tight your arms are trembling. On autopilot you look around for something to do, but there’s nothing. More importantly, nobody.
I’ll call Spencer. He’ll know what to do.
No, you won’t, your higher self reminds you. You lost your phone. And besides, it’s clearly not like he wanted to stick around last night. Maybe he doesn’t even like you anymore.
So you’re stuck here. Stranded. Sharks can smell blood.
Processing that information, you walk back to your bedroom and close the door behind you—before promptly sinking to the ground and burying your face in the duvet with a deep, silent sob.
That goes on for a few minutes until you realize you’re too achy and you can’t breathe and you’re forced onto your side, curling up in your blanket on the floor like it’s a nest and not a burial plot.
You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. A relationship can’t implode twice in 24 hours. You don’t have your phone. Maybe he’s texted you.
But is that really all you’re worth? A text sent after the fact? He couldn’t sacrifice a few hours to sleep by your side? Couldn’t even wake you up to say goodbye? You think about the sweet things he’d said afterward—the way he held you, fingers dancing down your spine. Promises he made when you were half asleep in his arms, so sure he’d be there when you woke up.
Even fucking Jerry the neighbor—who you think might have just sexually harassed you in the hallway—said Spencer should’ve stuck around.
Fuck.
No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t even matter. They were just words.
Heard some of it. Sounded like you put on quite the show.
Your skin crawls and your stomach turns as you hold yourself tighter. Something that was supposed to be private and special—and some random man not only had a front row seat to your deflowering but felt comfortable talking about it with you. It feels like a violation. Like he crashed a really important party. If you had known you had an audience last night, you never would’ve done it.
The way he looked at you, tracing your legs with his eyes like he was touching you—
You scramble up from the floor and walk heavily on your knees to the dresser, digging up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. You should be showering, but you don’t want to deal with your body right now. You just want to hide.
Friday evening—present
After your conversation, Spencer seems eager to make sure the car ride to his apartment is not reminiscent of the car ride to yours last night—he holds your hand, resting in your lap, bringing your knuckles to his lips at a red light. Every few moments he glances over at you, maybe to appreciate the view (though you doubt it’s especially scenic at the moment) or perhaps to gauge your mood. The further away you get from your apartment building the better you feel, and you try to focus on that. Sure—maybe you had a shit day, but Spencer’s here now, and he didn’t leave you after all. In fact, since finding your phone, you’ve seen the series of very sweet and highly concerned messages he sent over the course of a few hours. They almost make your stomach hurt. It would’ve been really nice to have those earlier.
He doesn’t ask you any more of the hard questions, but you sense an inquisition in the works and getting closer with every curious glance he gives you. It’s like he’s unwrapping you, layer by layer, using his impressive cognitive faculties to drill through your skull into your brain and deeper still into your soul.
Back in his apartment you sit awkwardly on the bed. Last time you’d been here, things hadn’t gone so well for you.
The shower starts in the adjoined bathroom, and Spencer comes out a moment later, warm light seeping into the darkened bedroom. Purple and dark blue mixing with yellow, like a bruise.
“Hey. Water’s warm.”
You hum, smoothing the material of his neatly made bed with your palm and watching the way it flattens. That had been your doing. You may have thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you last time you slept here, but you didn’t want to leave his home a mess. Didn’t want to leave any evidence of your having been here.
A moment passes. You thumb at a thread and don’t look up.
Spencer crosses the space without a word and crouches in front of you, hands coming up to cup the back of your legs, running knee to ankle and up again.
“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?” He asks softly. His voice wrings your heart out. Now that you’re in a completely different space, and you’re not so alone anymore, you’re struggling to sort out your feelings. It should be fine. You’re with Spencer. Presumably he still loves you.
And you still feel terrible.
“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you whisper.
“I know,” he says, just as quietly.
Spencer doesn’t say anything else. I know you don’t want to—and yet. Your lips twist to the side. He’s persistent. Even in his kindness. It’s not the kind of care that falters or buckles when you try turning it away.
“My neighbor said he c—”
You’re forced to stop, frowning by how overcome you are. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Worse things have happened to you.
“He said he could hear us. Last night.”
Spencer’s hands stop on your legs. You can’t meet his eyes. You’re afraid whatever you find there won’t be the right thing.
“He’s in the unit next to you?”
You nod. “We share a wall.”
There’s a moment’s hesitation and your stomach sinks. He doesn’t understand.
“What did he say?”
“Just… dumb shit,” you scoff, fiercely wiping away a stray tear. “He said he listened and it sounded like I was putting on quite the show. And then he—and then he told me not to let you… use me up, whatever that means. He called me fresh meat, and said I shouldn’t let you ride me hard and put me away wet, and bad things happen to sluts who can’t keep their legs closed.”
You finish with a sharp inhale, briefly leaning down and covering your face with your hands when you realize how upset you really are. You want to hide it.
A fraught moment passes. Spencer reaches for your hands, no doubt to try and pull them away from your face. You spare him the trouble, sitting up with a cavalier sniff before he can touch you and brushing your hair behind your ears.
His voice is uncomfortably quiet. You can’t look at him. “Baby…”
“Don’t. It’s fine. I only told you because you asked.”
It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyway, and so you avoid eye-contact like it’s the plague. Maybe it’s just safe to be mad at him. Maybe he knows that.
Regardless, you’re not in the mood for coddling. It’s borderline repulsive—like trying to mix oil and water. Anything good slides right off of you because maybe you’re not designed to be able to absorb good things.
Nothing changes for a minute—and then he’s standing, offering you a moment alone as he goes to crank the shower off.
As soon as he’s gone all the air is vacuumed from your lungs and you crumple, heaving it back in silently as your head spins and your heart races. It’s like your mind is split in two—half is primal, overwhelming panic, and the other a cold observatory eye, full of disdain and scorn for what it deems a severe overreaction to a few nasty comments made hours ago. You’re so tangled up as you curl in on yourself on your side that you can’t even cry. You’re just trying to remember how to breathe, ignoring the crawling feeling up your spine and the tingling heat at the back of your neck. The shower stops on the downbeat of your staggered breath, and then it’s silent. He’ll come back at any minute and see what a mess you’ve become.
You’ve ruined everything. If only you could’ve kept it to yourself.
When Spencer reappears in the doorway, and sees you collapsed and curling like paper burnt at the edges, he’s quick to return to you.
“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying and failing to brush away hair from your cheek, which is wet—so you were crying—and Spencer shushes you, pushing it away for you as he kneels.
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I’m being dramatic, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Of course, at the end of that declaration, a sob wrenches its way from the depths of you, so bright and cleaving you half expect the smell of ozone to follow. You follow it with a blisteringly self-deprecating laugh.
“Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t minimize it.”
His hand is warm where it rests over your cheek, affectionate, but he sounds frustrated. You frown and sniffle.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Tell me his name.”
It’s a quiet request, made as gently as his hand cards through the hair at your temple like it’s woven with fragile threads of gold.
“No, Spencer,” you beg, anxiety pooling in your gut and rising in your throat, “please, I don’t want to make it a thing, I don’t want you to talk to him. You’ll just make it worse, it’s fine.”
You look at him imploringly, eyes wide and still welling, hoping to god the gravity of your plead will sink in. His are a bed of coals—somewhere between furious and sympathetic, and you try to appeal to the sympathy.
“It is not fine. Saying sluts get what’s coming to them is not fine, that is a threat, and I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to have him fucking arrested.”
You scoff.
“For talking to me? Yeah, good luck with that. Cops are really known for being helpful when it comes to sexual harassment.”
“Baby. Men who are comfortable violating your boundaries like that are exponentially more likely to commit an actual violent crime. That is not a safe person for you to be around.”
“He’s not gonna rape me, Spencer! He’s just a gross old man! This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d make it a bigger deal than it is! You did it last night and you’re doing it now—you think everyone is out to get me!”
To his credit, he doesn’t so much as raise his voice.
“Of course it’s a big deal. You’re upset.”
“Yeah, well, it’s my own fault.”
Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Spencer goes silent for a moment.
“It’s your fault?”
“Yes. It’s my fault because… because now everyone knows that I’m…”
His voice goes impossibly soft again. “Knows that you’re what?”
“I mean, what did I expect?” You sniffle. “It’s an apartment. If I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, I shouldn’t’ve done it.”
He says your name like it’s a ring he twists around his finger as he tries to think—to gather the right words.
“The consequences for having sex do not involve punishment or sexual harassment.”
“It’s the result of my actions, so—”
“No, it’s the result of your neighbor being disgusting. I don’t care what he heard, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”
“He—”
“If you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear would you bring it up to the person the next day?”
“Stop interrupting me,” you plead. Spencer looks like he has something to say to that, too, but he swallows it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I… understand that he shouldn’t have said those things to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it was really, really uncomfortable and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna go back now. Maybe that’s dramatic, but…”
You trail off, studying the ceiling as a fresh wash of tears dampen your cheeks. Spencer’s hand slides down your waist as you wipe your face. “I don’t regret the fact that we slept together. I just regret everything that’s happened since, and if I didn’t do it last night, none of this would’ve happened. I feel like he ruined everything.”
The words end on another cry and you put your hand over your eyes like you could stop it all from coming out. You sniffle. Spencer is quiet for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers, his own voice threaded with emotion. “I…”
He sighs. You push your hair back and look at him.
“What?”
He studies you, chewing on his lip like a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. You sit up again, feet balanced on the edge of the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes remain stuck on you. Again, you ask, “What?”
“I didn’t think about it until you brought it up earlier, but—I did see someone. Him, I think, when I went out to my car to get my bag. He was smoking when I came out, and when I got back into the lobby he was waiting for the elevator. We took it up together, he—he said something to me, so I know he saw me going back to you. I don’t know why he made it sound like I left.”
You frown. “What did he say?”
Spencer hesitates.
“He asked if I had a long night. He was obviously commenting on the fact that I was basically half-dressed and getting an overnight bag from my car at one in the morning, so he could probably gather from context what was going on, but… my point is, he knew I came back and it seems like he was almost trying to make you think I didn’t. So for whatever reason, maybe he was lying about being able to hear you, too. Maybe he just wanted to make you uncomfortable.”
“That’s a long shot, Spencer.”
“I know, but… it’s not that long. He obviously gets off on it—and besides, he said you were putting on a show, but you weren’t… you weren’t loud, last night.”
Heats blossoms in your cheeks and you look down at your lap. “Thin walls.”
“Have you ever heard your neighbors before?”
You have to seriously think about it.
“I’ve heard them yelling…”
“Nothing else?”
Again, you consider it. The answer comes as a surprise.
“No.”
“Okay, so… does that maybe help a little bit? I really, really don’t want you to feel like last night was a mistake in any way, or let anyone ruin it for you.”
You breathe deeply. “I know. It… it kinda helps, yeah.”
His hands come to the top of your legs. There’s so much genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”
Only when you nod does he relax some. His hands skim your thighs, and you set yours on top of his own. For a few breaths, it’s quiet. And then you laugh.
“What?” Spencer asks, a tentative smile curling his own lips like he doesn’t know if he should be concerned or participate in your mirth.
“I—I don’t know how to say it without being cheesy,” you admit, sniffling the last of your tears away and smiling softly down at him.
“I think you should say it.”
You link your fingers with his on your lap, watching the way they twine like it’s what they were meant to do.
“I was just thinking about how I had, like, the worst day ever. And how much worse it would’ve gotten if you didn’t show up when you did—I would’ve completely spiraled. But you did show up. And how easy it is to kind of compartmentalize, because I have you, and when I’m with you… nothing feels as hard. You make the bad things feel smaller, I guess.”
By the end, it got a lot more real than you’d intended, and your face feels warm, and your stomach is sort of floaty—but you don’t look away from Spencer. You hold his gaze, though it makes you a little nervous, because you want him to know you mean it.
He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t—only looks at you, like you’re beautiful and impossible and a defiance of everything he thought he knew, which was almost everything. To him, you’re expansive. A gorgeous anomaly.
And then he stands, holding his hands out for you. Without question you take them, and he pulls you to your feet, absorbing the momentum that threatens to topple you, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. So tight you have to laugh.
“I love you,” he says against your shoulder, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head.
Your humor softens, but doesn’t become inflexible—still tinges your words with the perfect amount of euphoria and relief. “I love you.”
“Thanks,” he mumbles, and your laughter flares again.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“But I’m grateful. I… I feel lucky.”
Always so earnest, so vulnerable, when you’re least expecting it—which should be always, you’re learning. You pull back to look up at him. You don’t want that concession to go unrewarded.
“Me too,” you say softly. He’s doing that fond thing with his eyes, where they’re all soft and it’s like he’s trying to take in every millimeter of your face. This time when he goes to touch your hair, you have the wherewithal to dodge it.
“You’re really brave for trying to touch my hair right now.”
“Why?” He asks, utterly bewildered, and the softness of the moment falls away easily, but not without leaving everything smudged and fuzzy around the edges. Everything is still okay. It’s still good.
“Because it’s dirty,” you laugh, dodging him again and eventually ducking from the circle of his arms entirely.
“Oh, your hair is dirty? Should we breakup?”
“Hm. I don’t really like when you take on that tone with me.” You’re still half-laughing, dipping and weaving past him toward the bathroom as he tries to get you in his arms again. And then you stop, toes just short of the tile.
“What is it?” He asks after another moment. You blink, looking at the shower head as it drips.
“Um—would it be okay if I had a five minute headstart in the shower?”
“Sure. Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine. I just… I need a minute.”
His hand skims your waist as he passes by you through the open door. “Okay. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll get the water going again?”
Soon enough, you’re remembering how much better his water pressure is than yours as you stand under the torrent, eyes closed as if in prayer. You definitely could’ve stood to shower earlier in the day. But you had other concerns, earlier, and besides—you were afraid of what you might find.
And you were right to be. The sex was nice. The aftermath isn’t quite as pretty.
When Spencer taps on the bathroom door, you’re nervous.
“You can come in,” you call.
“You sure? If you want it all to yourself, that’s okay too.”
“No, no. It’s fine.”
The door creaks open, and gently clicks into place again, and fabric rustles as he undresses, and soon the shower curtain is sliding aside and he’s stepping in. Unsurprisingly, the space feels smaller with him in it—but not small in a bad way. It feels warmer. Again you’re awash in that safe feeling, which you didn’t realize you’d been missing so much today.
“Hi,” he smiles, a teasing sliver of what you know to be the most brilliant light in the world, and stunning like the rest of him as you watch the water begin to darken his hair.
“Hello.”
His smile flickers briefly wider like you’re his favorite thing and he just can’t contain his joy, and then it’s easing again, giving you a moment to catch your breath.
“Is it okay if I touch you?”
In this alien context the idea has your heart pounding—you don’t really understand the concept of casual nudity yet, but you know he’ll respect your earlier wishes to keep it chaste and so you nod.
Spencer doesn’t take you immediately in his arms like you’d expected—instead his hands find a rest at your collarbones and carefully push your wet hair back over your shoulders—but his eyes aren’t cast quite low enough to be indecent. They connect dots over your chest and neck, and he thumbs at one just over your pulse point.
“Oh, man,” he laughs, and you think you detect a hint of self-deprecation. “That’s… wow, I didn’t realize I… sorry. They don’t hurt, do they?”
It’s your turn to smile as he’s suddenly over-concerned.
“No, they don’t hurt.”
“Good.” He looks relieved, but it doesn’t last as his eyes trace lower—though you don’t sense any hunger in it. He’s just taking you in. “How about everywhere else?”
“Um… it’s not bad. Kind of, like… I don’t know. Sore. But it’s not bad.”
“Still?” He frowns, clearly unfazed by your evident embarrassment on the subject. You shrug and avert your eyes.
“It’s fine. it was worse earlier, so.”
That does not have the calming effect you’d intended.
“Worse? 1-10, how—”
“Spencer, it’s fine, I promise. It’s only when I—when I move certain ways, I notice. Honestly the… blood… was way more disconcerting to me.”
“Yeah, I saw your bed… sorry for ruining your sheets. I’ll buy you new ones.”
You shrug, watching the water run in rivulets down your arm and branch off into tributaries and waterfalls from your fingers. “You don’t have to do that. It was a collaborative effort.”
Normally this conversation would have you melting into an embarrassed puddle, but something about the tile cocoon of the shower, the humid fog, the proximity, feels safe. The white noise of water on porcelain, the warmth. You go to him at the same time as he comes to you—his arms around your waist, yours slung over his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. Falling asleep standing up has never seemed so plausible until now.
He presses a kiss to your head. You sigh.
“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with washing my hair.”
“I can do it,” Spencer immediately offers. You frown.
“I was—you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking.”
“I know you didn’t.”
“It’s a process.”
“I understand.”
“You would have to do it exactly how I say.”
“I am willing to learn. I like taking care of you.”
You’re glad for the hot water, then, and as he washes your hair. You’re not sure if you’re crying at the tenderness of his touch, or the way he loves you like you’re easy to love. You’re too tired to explain it.
He doesn’t push you, because he never pushes you.
He just washes your hair.
#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfic
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felt like I was beginning to get all lost personality again, so I went and got my hair cut and dyed
#Also bleached and dyed a friend's hair#Not sure how I'll feel later#Like is this what I needed but also I definitely needed the haircut#gotta love the feeling that you've lost of personal sense of self and feeling#I think it's the overwhelming amount of bullshit they try to spring on you once you reach a certain point of college#Ya know like suddenly you're almost a senior and now's the time to get on that research and conference shit#Like if you don't start now publish or die will just be instant academic death#Please plot out your life for the foreseeable future with color coding and bullets for every possible moment!#And like#It's just exhausting#And I am overwhelmed with stuff like class and my alarming amounts of stuff#But it was nice to try and get back into the body I'm supposed to have#also dying Ettie's hair blue was super cool#So maybe things will be okay#But like... If I have to keep going back to the 'to feel in control I have to modify my look' I may not be as stable as people think#Something to bring up in therapy I guess#These tags are all over the place idk y'all
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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIFTEEN
pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, hallucainations/hearing voices??, inaccurate depictions of medicine, idk how ppl made medicines in 1800s but idc its fiction masterlist a/n: thank u for the love from the hurricane i went thru!! i'm okay and back in business, i love u guys <3 things are gonna get a lil spicyyy
When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.
“Dove,” a voice singsonged, a whisper in the wind that whisked away almost as soon as it appeared.
You halted in your steps, whipping your head around. Standing on the deck, you knew you were alone. You had just been on your way to collect your variety of herbs and powders to teach the Captain of medicine making, yet the sense of dread overtook you the moment you heard your name called out.
Looking out into the vast sea, there was nothing. A heavy mist clouded the air from the storm that was brewing mere lengths away, its arrival unknown. It clouded over the horizon, hiding away what lay beyond in the dull, gray atmosphere.
Yet, Graves had spoken yet again, as if he had sent his voice to travel miles upon miles just to get a rile out of you. It felt like a warning, letting you know he was still present, and very much still attached.
“The one who heals the ill and poor,” Graves echoed tauntingly, a dark chuckle rasping at the end of his words. “The one who has the 141 in knots. That’s you, isn’t it, dove?”
You couldn’t see him, and you weren’t sure whether that was ideal or not. You knew he wasn’t there physically, hell, you weren’t sure it was even really him talking. Your mind could be playing tricks on you.
The words of the prophecy were spoken with such mockery, the ones referring to your very role. The venom in his tone made you queasy. A cold chill dripped down your spine, causing the hairs on your neck to stand.
“Oh, this will be fun,” he cooed. “I’ll be seeing you.”
Stood frozen in place, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the horizon. It was gloomy, and you were beginning to mirror that feeling. You felt toyed with — like a puppet on a shelf, waiting to be used when Graves deemed you useful.
“What are ye doin’ down there, dove?” a voice called. “Looks like ye seen a ghost.”
The faint snickering had you tilting your head up in the direction it came from. Soap sat high up in the crow’s nest, peering down at you mischievously. His broad arms rested on the rim of the nest, leaning lazily.
“I am fine,” you scowled, quickly regaining your composure. Graves crept menacingly in the corners of your mind. “What are you doing up there?”
“She’s a crow’s nest for a reason. I’m watchin’ for the storm, seein’ if I can spot anythin’ out of the ordinary like I’m a bird, birdie” Soap explained with a grin, cocking his head. “What are ye doin’ down there?”
You frowned at him, unamused. “I plan on teaching the Captain how to make medicine,” you replied. “I’m just going to collect my things. It is wealthy to have knowledge in medicines, you know.”
Soap blew out a puff of air, waving his hand dismissively. “If I have any more knowledge up in this noggin’ of mine, it might explode.” He made a point of knocking his knuckles against his head.
“I do not believe there is much in there at all,” you sighed, unable to force a small smile away. Even in times of fear and uncertainty, you couldn’t deny the way Soap put you at ease.
“Ach, yer a bird that bites. What happened to bein’ a sweet bird?” he mumbled in feigned hurt, lips puckered into a pouted frown.
Your smile grew and you shook your head. “Where is Ghost?” you asked. Soap rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twirling into his messy mullet.
“That lad. Locked himself up again, he did. I think the weather’s makin’ him all moody. He helped me out for a bit before goin’ back, so I’m not sure what’s wrong,” he explained sympathetically. There was a hint of hurt at being shut out.
It made you recall the two of them. Embracing. Whispering amongst each other. Ghost, unmasked, leaning into his touch.
You tried your hardest to not let it shift your expression, even if it dug a little hole somewhere in your heart to be reminded of what you didn’t have.
“I see,” you hummed, playing off your tormenting thoughts and shoving them to the side with the rest. “I am… happy that he has someone like you.”
Soap’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He stared at you, confused, before smiling softly. “Ah, c’mon, dove. Ye got us, too.”
Not in the way your heart longed for. But that was a thought that attempted to fiddle with your mind and leave you stranded on an island of foreign feelings far, far away.
You weren’t sure what you desired, anyway.
“Right,” you agreed with a curt nod. “I’ll be going now. Please, do not fall while I’m gone — or do. I have not been able to aid anybody in quite a long time.”
Soap laughed, the sound rumbling you to the core. “Mean li’l bird,” he teased.
With a smile, you continued on to your quarters, shoving any strange ideas behind and focusing on the task at hand. Price was still waiting for you, after all.
Entering your shared space, you nearly cursed the world for putting Gaz in there. While you hadn’t quite avoided him like you wanted to, that was due to the others being around. Now, here alone, was different.
“Hello, Gaz,” you greeted stiffly, giving him a nod. You quickly retreated to your side of the room, which really was Soap’s clutter. You needed to organize it soon or you may lose your mind.
“Dove,” Gaz hummed from where he laid in bed, arms resting behind his head in a lazy position. His eyes followed you like a hawk as you rummaged through the bag taken from your village on your first night with the pirates.
The resources you’d been forced to bring so long ago were now going to be of use, which was something you wished to be excited for—yet, the elephant in the room was a downpour on your mood.
You felt ridiculous. It was not as if you were avoiding him in rejection—it was that it was not rejection that you were avoiding him.
Your heartstrings seemed to tighten and pull whenever he was near, and it made you feel crazy. It felt like you couldn’t catch a break, constantly toying with your own feelings.
What was this feeling of longing you so hopelessly seemed to feel differently with each of them? Was it still the craving for a sense of belonging?
“Is someone hurt?”
You glanced up from your bag, fingers pausing. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before realization took over and you shook your head. “No. I am teaching Price the ways of medicine.”
So much for avoiding him.
“Is that so?” he asked. You weren’t sure why his tone seemed so… off. As if there were a taste of bitterness to it.
You recalled the night you threw your food at him from the stuffiness of your cell below deck when he had done nothing but try and quench your hunger. He truly was not a fan of you, nor you him. While you were scared, he was protective of his kin.
Now, his tone was a grave reminder of how much time had passed, and how different things were.
You gave him another stiff nod, watching as he stood from the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest, banging against your rib cage with every step he took closer.
When he finally stopped, he was mere inches away, standing tall and proud over you. You focused your gaze on his chest, mapping the loosely tied strings that hung from the middle of his billowy shirt. You were overcome with spikes of awkward anxiety and unable to connect eyes with him.
Seeing this, he tilted his head down, cocked to the side in a mocking way. He forced your gaze to meet his from leaning down alone, and you held your breath at the sight of slight annoyance burrowed somewhere in his expression.
“Are you avoidin’ me?” he asked lowly.
You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grew clammy, and you couldn’t take them out of your bag to wipe them on your dress or else he’d know.
“No,” you stammered, frowning. “I am just— Price is waiting for me.”
Was he angry that you did not reciprocate a kiss? It was not your fault—you had never shared one.
“There is no playful banter. Nor even a gaze in the eye,” he commented.
“I am looking at you right now,” you defended weakly.
“What you’re doin’ is actin’ different,” he said slyly, mirroring your frown. “What, you hand me a gift, a beautiful one, and now that I have read the signs wrong, you wish to hide from me?”
“That—” You inhaled sharply. “That is not what is happening.”
“So, I have read them right, then.”
“I do not know what signs you are referring to.”
“Don’t be daft, dove.”
Your fingers tightened around a small jar in your bag, knuckles going white. You wanted to avoid the forced eye contact altogether, but now you could not look away. It was as if you were in a trance.
“It is improper to refer to a woman as daft,” you hissed in defense.
“You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met,” Gaz mused, his head tilting once again.
This is what he wanted, and you were giving it to him. He wanted the banter, the jests, to see you grow irritated to tug a reaction from you, and unfortunately, it was working.
“You have never been kissed before?” he continued.
Your ears were beginning to ring. Your entire body felt hot to the touch, like a scorching fire burned through your veins and trickled its way up to your brain.
“That is inappropriate, Gaz,” you tried, though your defense was weak. He was right. He was always right, and you hated it. “I must return to Price. I—I cannot have this conversation.”
“You will have to avoid the whole sea if you believe I am the only one,” he stated calmly, growing soft now that his initial annoyance was wearing off. “Do not make me the one to suffer.”
You stared at him, mouth opened to speak but the words lost in translation. You felt like you were betraying yourself by choosing to avoid him out of mere uncertainty. You were only doing a disservice to yourself.
The words he spoke laid heavy on your mind, but you were unable to decipher the true meaning. Perhaps you were avoiding that, too.
The two of you said nothing, sitting in tense silence as you hurried to throw your bag over your shoulder. You didn’t want Price to slam open his door and search for you, believing you accidentally fell into the treacherous waters and sunk below the angry sea.
You shuffled to the door, hand hovering over the handle. You risked a weary glance over your shoulder, seeing Gaz standing and watching you with keen eyes, a glint of something unrecognizable in them.
You had nobody else to feel sorry for but yourself.
“I will not avoid you,” you muttered quietly. “I do not think I have the strength to do so, anyway. Not with you.”
You tugged open the door, excusing yourself.
The chill in the air was refreshing against your warm skin, cooling off the heat that radiated off of you like a furnace. As you returned to Price’s quarters, your mind was scrambled, overloaded with millions of thoughts that plagued you.
The wind rustled and blew, and you could only pray there wasn’t a familiar whisper hiding in its trail. It seemed as if the universe had plenty of tricks up its sleeve today, and it was dealing them all to you one by one.
When you looked up at the crow’s nest as you walked by, Soap remained. He gave you a smile when you passed, and it made the worry in your stomach simmer to a low boil.
“You took quite some time,” Price noted as you stepped inside. “Did you walk the plank along your way?”
You chuckled, shaking your head and shooing the bag off your shoulder. It fell to the desk with a small thud. “I ran into Soap,” you explained.
“I see.” Price smiled in acknowledgment. “Alright, dove. Let’s begin, hm?”
“You are not very good at this.”
You watched as Price attempted to grind a mix of herbs and powder in the bowl you lent him. Teaching him how to make a paste meant for burns proved fruitless, as he seemed to mess up the measurements when you weren’t looking.
“That’s why you’re the expert, dove,” he huffed in annoyance, laser focused on grinding the end of the wooden stick into the roundness of the bowl, mashing down the mixture. “I do not see how this will become a paste.”
“Did you mix in the drops of water like I told you?” you asked.
He glowered at the clear dropper you held up, which seemed just as full as when you first started. He snatched it up, squeezing a couple of drops into the failed paste for good measure, then continued mixing.
“Was I correct?” you teased, peering down into the bowl. You were pleased to see it mixing much more smoothly, almost like thick butter.
“Silence,” he grunted, shooting a weak glare your way. “I pray this medicine proves to be useful.”
“It is for burns to ease the flare up of the skin,” you explained, keeping an eye on the mixture. “I am sure it will come in handy.”
Price hummed, mashing the paste until he seemed satisfied. He shifted the bowl towards you, waiting for approval. The idea of it made you snort—a Captain, seeking approval from his ex-prisoner.
“It is not bad,” you praised, earning him a furrow of his eyebrows. “Much better after the water.”
He gave you a look, unamused, eyeing you as you shoveled the paste into an empty jar. You were happy to add it to the collection, though you wished you had the opportunity for a room for yourself to display them. Soap and Gaz’s room was feeling crowded.
“I am only teasing,” you said with a smile. “It’s almost as good as mine.”
Price snorted, smiling back. “Aye, I’m a Captain, not a medic. That’s your specialty,” he retorted.
“And will this medic ever get a room of her own? Or perhaps a place to work?”
He raised an eyebrow. You mirrored him. “Are the boys not fun to room with?”
Images of Gaz earlier flashed in your mind. You swallowed. “No, they are just fine. But I am a woman, after all. It is not… suitable.”
Price made a noise of acknowledgment, nodding slow. He seemed to be thinking, a hand brushing through his beard and stroking his bottom lip.
“That is… understandable. Forgive me, I have not had a woman on my ship until you. It slipped my mind that you roomin’ with those two may not be entirely appropriate,” he replied thoughtfully.
“You forced me to sleep with you on my first night out of the brig,” you reminded him.
Price paused his stroking, blinking at you. For a moment, you lost him, his mind running astray. You could only stare back patiently.
“Would you prefer to stay here, then?” he asked. “You may find much more peace in here than with them., or if you'd like, you may switch off between quarters.”
You felt your body tense up at the mere thought. You knew no matter who you stayed with, it would be a gamble. Each of them had your heart on lock in an unfamiliar way, and the thought of staying with Price again had your stomach twisting into knots.
Gaz popped up once again, and you wondered if that decision would solidify your act in avoiding him. A pang of guilt hit your chest.
“You would not mind?” you asked wearily.
Price shrugged. “I may prefer it, actually.”
Your expression morphed into confusion, eyebrows pulling together and lips curling into a frown. He’d prefer to spend nights with you, rather than allowing you to cram into a small bed with Soap in the late hours of the night?
You thought the Captain valued his privacy and solitude. Now that he was offering you to stay on his own rather than out of fear of you running off to islands unknown, it felt much more personal.
“You’d prefer it?”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“Why?”
The Captain paused, narrowing his eyes at you. You were curious at to what he could be thinking about.
The door to his quarters opened, silencing your conversation rather quickly. The wind sounded much louder now without barriers between the inside and outside, and when you whipped your head to look at the doorway, Soap stood, drenched in water.
You were so focused on your time with Price and your craft, you hadn’t noticed the uneasy rockiness of the ship that seemed to grow with every second.
“The storm’s brewin’ real fast, Cap,” Soap breathed, lightly heaving. He must’ve climbed down the nest in a haste. “We need to get her steady. It’s comin’ down faster than we thought.”
The Captain stood quickly, giving him a nod. “Go collect Gaz and Ghost,” he ordered. Soap agreed, tossing the door closed and leaving you alone. “Dove, you’re stayin’ here.”
“I must be of help—”
“Here,” he repeated, tapping his finger on the desk. “That’s an order.”
You wanted to protest, but the look on his face was gloomy. You watched him leave his quarters and enter the battlefield of heavy rain that spilled over on to the deck.
Something in your heart tugged, but this time, not out of longing, or envy—it was worry. Sure, you faced many storms in your village, but never on a ship where one wrong move could send you right below the waves and have you never come back up again.
You felt helpless as you sat, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in your lap as you hoped and pray the ship would become steady enough for them to return to safety.
“Dove.”
The crashing sound of cracking thunder had you jolting in your seat. You did as the Captain ordered and stayed put, but you were becoming restless. The longer you stayed, the more your feeling of cold dread grew.
You knew where it was coming from. It was the very thing living inside your head, and you wondered if Ghost could hear it, too.
You couldn’t sit anymore. You got to your feet, quickly throwing open the door to a monsoon.
The ship swayed with the heavy, angry waves that crashed harshly against the sides of the ship. It made you lose balance, and you grabbed on to the doorway to steady.
Gaz and Soap stood under the rainfall, water soaking into their skin and clothes as they heaved the sails closed, holding the ropes to guaranteed they stayed.
Ghost was lifting heavy baggage that had yet to be stored away, thrown over his shoulder as he hurried to transport them to a dry part of the ship.
The Captain stood at the helm, his hair flat against his forehead and dripping water all the way down to his beard. He was mastering the steering of the ship, barking orders at Soap and Gaz while the two attempted to keep the sails at bay.
“Isn’t this fun, dove?” Graves whispered. You wished you could claw out your own eardrums.
You knew he was near. Before, you couldn’t feel his presence—now, it felt stronger than ever.
You frantically looked around, hoping to spot him somewhere out at sea, but the rain was too heavy. The sky had been darkening, giving off an ominous hue covered by storm clouds. You wouldn’t be able to see him from below.
Your eyes landed on the crow’s nest, the net of rope leading up to it swaying in the crazy wind. Soap had been up there mere hours ago, watching the storm and charting its location.
Without a moment of hesitation, you sprinted in the cold rain, heading towards your destination.
“Dove?” Soap called out in confusion, before recognizing you. “Dove! What are ye doin’?”
You began your ascent, just as Gaz had joined in calling for you. With them unable to leave the ropes of the sails behind, they couldn’t chase after you, stopping you from your foolish moment of cleverness.
“What the hell is she doin’ out?” Price growled, his firm voice quieter in the winds chasing it away.
The rope creaked as you planted your feet in the gaps, climbing your way up to the nest. The higher up you got, the more the breeze increased its abuse, whipping along your face in a serious of angry smacks.
The pirate’s voices grew farther away as you approached the crow’s nest. Their tones were ones of concern, fear, and worry as you scrambled your way on to the rugged, old wood platform, hauling yourself up.
You needed to know if your thoughts were true—if Graves truly was here, or if it was another one of his tricks.
You stood on the crow’s nest, holding yourself steady with a firm grip of the sides. You looked out into the void, scanning for anything, any sign—and there it was.
A ship, not too far off in the distance, swaying with the waves with its front nose pointed in the direction of your ship. A large sail flapped in the wind, and it was so misty you nearly couldn’t see it until a familiar white outline of a skull appeared, waving as if saying hello.
Graves was setting sail right towards the ship, and he had every intention of riding out the storm until he reached you.
#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#call of the sea#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley#kyle gaz garrick#john price#john soap mactavish#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#price x reader#captain price#ghost cod#ghost x reader#soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#kyle garrick x reader#gaz x reader#gaz cod#pirate!141#poly 141 x reader#poly 141
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on a night like tonight
wrote this for @thatdammchickennugget's hogmarch challenge using the dialogue prompt!! just a fluffy (debatable) one shot for my favourite slytherin boy🫠🫠🫠
prompt 2: "are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?"
pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!slytherin reader (although its not that important to the one shot, honestly)
warning(s): slightly suggestive (towards the end), alcohol consumption
~∞~ i love writing for mattheo😫 idk how i feel about this one but i enjoyed writing either way lol. and yes i titled this after a niall song (im still not over the fact that i saw him in the flesh like a whole week ago!??!?!) also happy international women's day to all of you sexy, beautiful women xxxx
The Slytherin common room was ripe with activity. The Quidditch team had beaten Gryffindor by an utter landslide (250-110), so it was only appropriate for them to throw a huge party to celebrate. The team were in the middle of the room, surrounded by their most loyal band of lovestruck followers, as they drowned in all sorts of alcoholic beverages.
Spheres of magical light littered the high ceiling, glittering like stars and creating an eerily green glow as they reflected off of the murky waters of the Black Lake. The seating areas had been cleared, and in place was a makeshift dancefloor of sorts, filled to the brim with students dancing, singing and laughing to whatever music was playing on a stereo that Blaise had brought in from his Ravenclaw friends.
You were stood against a wall beside Pansy, who was busy glaring at the girl who had draped herself against Theo's arm as he laughed heartily at something Enzo had said. Your best friend was seething with jealousy, but she was far too stubborn to do anything about her feelings for your Italian friend.
The two of them had been dancing around their feelings for months; it was downright infuriating.
"I don't understand why you won't do something about it, Pans!" You say to her loudly, so that your voice could be heard over the earshattering bass music. "I'm getting sick of the back and forth between the two of you!"
Pansy finally takes her eyes off of the floppy haired brunette, who is now whispering in the ear of the girl, with a suggestive smirk on his face. "I'd say the same for you." She scoffs and you turn to her with furrowed brows.
"Oh don't act dumb." Pansy says with a laugh as she turns towards you fully, the drink in her hand sloshing over the rim of the cup as she does. "I see the way you look at Matt. You're very obvious. Both of you are."
"I don't know what you're talking about." You say reluctantly, taking a lengthy sip of your firewhiskey to avoid her knowing look.
Had your affections for your friend really been so blatant?
And did he really return them?
You turn towards the middle of the room and the liquid in your cup is suddenly drained to empty as you watch Mattheo dance closely behind a pretty Hufflepuff girl.
You and Pansy return to your mutual solitude, letting your friends revel in their win against their greatest rival, while simultaneously becoming more and more drunk, the more you watch as Theo and Mattheo obliviously break your hearts some more.
~∞~
It's much later into the night, and the party has not died down. In fact, it only seems to have gotten busier as more and more people from the other houses joined in on the debauchery.
You are so drunk. Practically stumbling along behind Pansy as she drags you to and from the dance floor to get more drinks. The two of you are dancing on each other, her hips grinding against your's to the beat of the music as you both giggle tipsily. You're unaware of your surroundings and have surely pissed off many other partiers with your drunken moves. But it doesn't bother either of you, content to enjoy each other's company, until there is a presence behind you that has Pansy smirking cheekily at you.
You narrow your eyes at her, vision hazy as you feel hands cradle your waist, almost possessively. Looking up, you come face to face with the underside of Mattheo's sharp jaw as he says something to Pansy that you don't comprehend. Whatever he says has her disappearing into the crowd, leaving you to his mercy.
"Hello, Princess." He mumbles lowly, mouth brushing against the soft shell of your ear, causing a shiver to run down the length of your spine.
"Matty! Hi." You say, voice slightly slurred and you grimace at how drunk you sound. He only smirks before he's gently spinning you to face him.
"Haven't seen you since the start of the match. 'S been ages." He replies, voice raspy from how much he'd shouted and cheered during and after the match.
"It's not been that long." You say with a teasing smile as you take in his appearance. In place of the emerald quidditch robes he'd been sporting that afternoon, he's wearing a dark, black t-shirt which stretches tightly across his torso, emphasising his Beater physique and a pair of dark trousers drapes over strong legs. Your observation is slow and purposeful and the smirk on his face widens even further as you admire him more openly then you ever have before.
He's chuckling to himself and then says something that you can barely hear over the loud music that reverberates through the room. But the cadence of his voice and the way they almost seem to have been hissed out in a way you do not understand, makes you tilt your head to the side as he smiles.
"What did you just say?" You ask him, or rather shout so that he can hear you. He copies you with a tilt of his head as he looks down at you with his captivating onyx eyes.
He repeats it again, his hands tightening against your waist when you stumble slightly as someone jostles you in an attempt to get past, smirking when your face scrunches in confusion.
"Are you speaking parceltongue or am i really drunk?" You ask, your hands coming to rest against his firm chest when you were pushed into him.
"Gods, Princess. How much have you had to drink?" He asks with gleaming eyes. It's the mischief in them that has you opening your mouth in feined outrage.
"You were speaking parceltongue!" You accuse and he lets out a laugh as you lightly whack his chest. "What did you say!?"
"Now why would I tell you that?" He replies, his face leaning closer to your's. You can smell the alcohol on his hot breath, mingling with your own and you can feel every breath he takes as it fans across your face.
"Because I'm your best friend?" You say with a smirk as you unconsciously wrap your arms around his neck, leaning on your tip toes slightly so that you can be at eye level with him. The move has your hips brushing against his. You swear his eyes darken as you do.
"Theo's my best friend." He says in a tone of faux obviousness, mischief laced in his rough voice.
"But I'm your favourite, right? If you admit it, I promise that Teddy will never know. It can be our little secret, Matty." You tease and he's laughing again, before he says something else in that strange, reptilian voice, eyes flicking from you eyes to your lips.
You've always been my favourite, darling.
The ways his eyes sparkle, despite the harshness of the sounds against his tongue have you acting upon instinct as you surge forward and press your lips to his. It's as magical as you've always imagined, despite it being tainted by your twin inebriation. But you'll take what you can get.
Because Mattheo Riddle is finally kissing you and you reckon you could fall into a abyss of happiness as his pillowly lips caress your's with loving grace.
~∞~
The next morning, you wake up in an unfamiliar, yet familiar dorm room and Enzo is smirking at you with glee. A tanned, muscular arm is draped across your middle and you're using the other as a makeshift pillow. Your face warms as you recognise the large, veiny hand that stretches across your stomach.
"Fun night?" Your friend asks with a snicker and you flip him off in response. He leaves the room after he's done teasing you, his loud laughter echoing in the corridor. You move to stand but an arm tightens around the skin of your waist.
"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" Mattheo mumbles, his voice low and raspy from sleep.
"Well good morning, sunshine." You reply, a smile spreading across your face as you turn to face him, to find that he is already staring at you, with adoration in his onyx eyes.
"Am I still dreaming, or are you really in my bed right now?" He asks as you trace a finger lightly over his naked chest.
"Oh it's very real. And I'm sure Enzo has already told the others what he just discovered." You reply with a giddy laugh.
"About bloody time, don't you think?" Mattheo's question is muffled against the skin of your neck as he nuzzles his face there. You smile in response, giggling as pieces of his curly hair brush against your soft skin.
"I'd still like to know what you said last night." You say but he doesn't give you the answer. Instead, he rolls the two of you so that you lie beneath his toned body, strong arms caging you in.
"That's my little secret, Princess." He mumbles as he presses languid kisses down your neck and chest, travelling lower until your rendered a moaning mess beneath him.
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Okay bear with me folks, I have some ~thoughts~ about the Vanessa/Wade relationship (or frankly lack thereof) in Deadpool & Wolverine. I should start by saying that I am analyzing this with the (likely erroneous) assumption that everything on screen is 100% intentional and mindfully written to deepen the characters and inform their arcs. For the record, I don't necessarily believe that's true - there is certainly room for mistakes, lazy writing, confusing plot elements, or in this case, sidelining a potentially strong and important character for nebulous reasons (I'm guessing scheduling conflicts + run time concerns + actor's strike complications but idk for sure). (Also thanks to @gossippool and @kendyroy for encouraging me to post my thoughts instead of just rambling in the tags in the first place, y'all are the realest)
Long rambly post below the cut fyi
Now, granted, it has been a while since I watched the original Deadpool so I am not as well-versed in their early relationship as I am in the handful of scenes Morena Baccarin has in dp3, but I do think it is pretty canon that Wade generally struggles to express his deeper worries and feelings (without filtering it heavily through crude humor, sex, and pop culture references of course), especially after the events of dp1 and the physical and mental damage he sustains, and Vanessa is frankly no exception despite how much he cares for her. The entire first movie hinges on the fact that he doesn't really believe she could love him in his post-Francis mangled state, which is pretty contrived imo given that the film has established already how bonded they are, and she doesn't strike me as being written to be so shallow as to reject him based on a physical deformity. I mean iirc she wanted to stick around through chemo despite him being literally riddled with inoperable cancer, so she clearly is in it for the long haul (at least in dp1), messiness and all.
Now, in dp2, obviously she is shot and killed early in the film, and Wade spends much of the rest of the film wallowing in his very profound grief, trauma, and guilt over losing her due directly to his violent lifestyle. He goes to prison, he basically gives up on life and seems very resigned to dying once he has the power suppressant collar on, even excited to do so so he can be reunited with her. She is mostly sidelined as a Fuzzy Dead Wife trope basically, but the important thing here is that he spends weeks if not months in the throes of despair over losing the love of his life just as they were trying to start a family, and trying to reach across the boundaries of death to be with her.
Now, my first couple times watching dp3 I was frustrated by the trite narrative presented in the interview scene towards the beginning - specifically Wade's whole "my girl is getting tired of my shtick and I need to show her I matter". It felt contrived and disingenuous, and I just brushed it off as iffy writing, a means to an end, but the more I reflect upon it the more I think it is based in an emotional reality that is just handled with a very light touch by the film in favor of fanservice and Poolverine content (NOT that I'm complaining in the slightest - I think this movie is a masterpiece in many ways, albeit a flawed one but that's beside the point here), which for the record I am not against because I think it lends it an air of realism. This is Wade's story after all, Vanessa is a part of it but it is ultimately about him and his journey.
Basically, I think the combination of what happened to him in dp1 (the brain damage, the trauma, the awareness of the fourth wall, etc) followed by the events of dp2 (Vanessa's death, his grief and the associated guilt and trauma of being the direct cause of her death) led to an unbridgeable emotional gap between the two of them that ultimately leads to their breakup.
It's important to note that I don't think Vanessa has any recollection of her own death, given that Wade goes back and saves her before she can take the bullet, and so of course she can never fully fathom what Wade went through grieving her and their life together and their potential family, for however long he spent between her death and bringing her back with Cable's device. She can try (and she clearly does in the one scene I'll talk about next) but I fear she accepts, maybe even in that scene, that she can never succeed. He is beyond her reach by this point, and vice versa, his experiences having fundamentally changed him.
The one scene we really see from their relationship between dp2 and dp3 is the one where Cassandra mind-gropes Wade in the Void and we see Vanessa struggling to reach Wade across this aforementioned gap - she wants him to open up, she wants him to share what he's going through, she wants him to be the person she initially fell in love with (not even selfishly - to her nothing has changed really, because to her no time has passed). But not only does he not understand what she's really asking for but he responds in such a way that makes me think he has unprocessed issues that are only tangentially related to what she's saying - ie the stuff about mattering, about asking her if she even wants to be with him, etc. And he's not the Wade Wilson she met back in dp1 anymore. He watched her die and grieved her and brought her back, believing it would make everything go back to normal and they could resume their life together as if nothing had changed, but he has been fundamentally changed in a way that she can't grasp, even if he WAS good at externally processing his trauma openly without the artifice of wry jokes. She didn't "come back wrong" - instead, she came back exactly the same as before, but HE'S different now. Not wrong, per se. But changed.
It's an interesting scene because it's obviously a memory, and a crucial one at that, but you can see how Wade is misunderstanding what she's saying, viewing it through the prism of his own lack of self-worth and his own hopelessness - he takes away that she thinks he doesn't matter (even though like he says she didn't actually say that, but I don't think Cassandra invented that wholecloth - I think she pulled it out of his psyche because that's what he believes deep down, hence why his fixation on mattering even though she never said those words exactly), he takes away that she doesn't want to be with him, that she thinks he's nothing. Which would be frustrating as an audience member to witness as a pretty simple misunderstanding which could potentially be solved with one conversation, but it feels believable to me that these two people who have shared a great love would be fundamentally separated by unimaginable, cosmic trauma, and the on conversation they would need to have to rectify the misunderstanding is one that is impossible for Wade to verbalize and equally impossible for Vanessa to conceive of. It was one thing when they had shared trauma like violence and SA in dp1, but what Wade has gone through in dp1 and dp2, humor aside, is unfathomably traumatic, brain-breakingly so even, and that's not even factoring in the possible mental illnesses he now struggles with (I've seen folks suggest schizophrenia, DID, depression, etc. but I won't get into armchair diagnosing a fictional character here - suffice it to say he is canonically unwell as a result of what has happened to him, and yes it manifests as quirky fourth wall breaks and cheeky one-liners, but within the universe of the movies he is undeniably profoundly mentally ill, and that includes this humorous alter ego he created to cope with his trauma).
I think off-screen Vanessa probably really tried to reach him, maybe for years (the six year gap implies to me that they didn't break up immediately, that they tried for a while to stay together), trying to get her Wade back, but that Wade is gone. He struggled to express that to her until eventually he started to feel rejected because he couldn't express his trauma or how much he has changed, because even he can't fully conceive of the gulf that has formed between them. The truth is, he WANTS to be that Wade again, for her and for himself, but that Wade died when she died. Or maybe he had already started dying when Francis got a hold of him in dp1.
Anyway, all this is to say, I think Morena Baccarin WAS criminally underutilized in dp2 and dp3, but I think there is a strong argument to be made for the believability of their breakup regardless. I think even relationships built on enormous love can crumble due to trauma, and what Wade suffers over these movies is mind-bogglingly enormous trauma. It's especially heartbreaking that he blames himself for their relationship ending, talks like she just got tired of him, thought he didn't matter, whatever. But it is a credit to him that he never seems to feel anger towards her about it. He doesn't seem to feel entitled to her, though he longs for her and what they had and what she represented (hope, love, a future, a family), but ultimately she becomes more of a symbol of what he lost when he gained his powers, because let's be super fr right now - even if they had succeeded in having a baby, not only would they have lived in fear of her or the kid getting killed, but ultimately Wade would likely outlive both of them even if they managed to die natural deaths. The moment he gained his powers he was already destined to lose her, which is heartbreaking because she was the only reason he opted for the treatment in the first place - so he could stay with her.
I think a big part of Deadpool & Wolverine is watching Wade continue to process his own motivations (vis-a-vis Vanessa but also his other friends) and how he does eventually let go of the idea of "mattering" in favor of just saving the people he cares about (*cough* and being saved right back *cough* by Wolvie, as the final line and shot implies). And in the process he finds someone new who cares about him, who thinks he matters, who tries to sacrifice himself for him and his friends after mere days of knowing him, who comes home with him at the end of the story, who breaks his own centuries-old patterns, who has also experienced unimaginable grief and trauma, who has struggled with wanting to die and being unable to, who not only matches his crazy but matches his FREAK and also not only won't die on him but CAN'T die on him - and more importantly cannot be randomly killed by a stray bullet.
Idk if any of this makes much sense but I do think if you read between the lines and consider the potency of trauma and grief, guilt and emotional damage at play here, Vanessa and Wade's off-screen breakup is actually pretty realistic, and really heart-breaking to boot.
You can tell she still cares about him in so many ways - she shows up for his birthday party, she shows up to his welcome home party at the end, she finds excuses for physical contact multiple times, her eyes get soft when she looks at him, but there is a distance there that Morena Baccarin does an incredible job of portraying. She cares about him deeply, she has mourned the loss of their potential life together, she has let him go and accepted that the Wade she fell in love with is gone, but she wants him in her life even though she's moving on because she realizes he's gone somewhere she can't follow (literally and figuratively). And she wants him to be happy which is why I fully believe she would immediately clock the Poolverine of it all and not-so-subtly encourage them to make it official.
Anyway. Poolverine forever. Nothing against Vanessa at all - I think she delivers a nuanced and beautiful performance, I think their relationship is sweet and heart-wrenching in large part due to her acting chops, especially given how little she is given to work with - but I think their relationship was sadly doomed from almost the very start, because Wade becomes this traumatized superhuman and Vanessa would always be at risk in his orbit, but also would always on the outside of his multiverse superhero experiences. I think it's weirdly beautiful, even if I am filling in a lot of gaps and giving the writers maybe undue credit.
Anyway... thoughts? Please DM me or write in the tags, I am feral about this movie and just want to talk about it with anyone haha. If you have further insight into these characters too I'd love to hear it - I am by no means an expert in these movies or characters!
#wade wilson#deadpool & wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#poolverine#deadclaws#wolverine#deadpool#deadpool 3#deadpool x wolverine#vanessa x wade#rambly meta thoughts#anyway thanks for reading if you made it through#I def didnt edit this much just sorta wrote it out#I have more to say but it will have to wait I think#deadpool meta#vanessa meta
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Heyyy! Can you do a reader comforting the hazbin hotel men after a nightmare? Thank you! 🙃
Come here, let me hold you
Hazbin Hotel men (Alastor, Angel Dust, Adam, Lucifer)
Warning: established relationships (idk if that's a warning lol)
i'm gonna do Husk and Vox on a different post. i couldn't think at the moment, but they're on the way i promise!!!
Alastor never usually slept; only on rare occasions. but when you insisted on him laying next to you, how could he resist? he would normally read while you slept if he didn't have the intentions of hitting the hay. but tonight was one of the few nights that he slept. definitely one that you'll replay in the back of your mind for the rest of your afterlife.
you woke in the middle of the night, feeling an eerie presence behind you. when you turned and sat up, you were met with a truly horrifying sight.
Alastor was in his full demonic form, lanky limbs stretched out on the mattress and demonic symbols floating around him. his body twitched and his antlers grew in size as you watched, horror etched onto your features. tears pooled at your waterline as you watched, afraid to even move.
timidly, you stuck out a hand and gently touched Alastor's arm.
big mistake.
his eyes shot open and he looked at you with a glare so menacing you thought you were about to double die. he roughly grabbed your wrist, his claws digging slightly, making blood seep out. you look at your wrist, a shriek slipped past your lips without you realizing as you looked back at Alastor with fear in your eyes.
he must have known that you were scared because his grin faltered slightly.
"Al," you whisper, "i didn't mean...you were having a nightmare. i didn't know what to do."
Alastor's eyes softened and his antlers shrunk slightly, along with his limbs. the symbols disappeared and he slowly sat up, still maintaining eye contact with you. he slowly released your wrist and looked down at it.
"my dear..." Alastor said softly, no static filtering his voice. "i am...terribly sorry. i understand your true intentions, and i send my gratitude, but it's best to let me go through what i'm going through if you'd like to keep your life."
it wasn't intended to be threatening, you knew that. but you felt scared. scared that he might hurt you.
"i'm sorry...i just wanted to make sure you were okay"
he nods, his usual smile falling to a grin as he leans in and kisses your lips. "i truly apologize for making you fearful, dearest. let us rest."
he guided you to lay back down onto the soft mattress dressed in red satin sheets, his arm wrapping around you and holding you close.
"i love you, dearest"
Angel liked to sleep. a lot. he and Fat Nuggets would lay in bed all day. and it was even better if you were there, too.
you were currently laying next to Angel, fast asleep. you were a light sleeper, even Fat Nuggets shifting woke you up. you felt shifting beside you and stirred awake, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. you look around the dark room, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness, then look over at Angel. he was sweating, and his eyebrows were arched in fear. you leaned over, elbow digging into the pillow beside Angel’s head as you placed your hands on his cheeks, gently stroking them with your thumbs.
“Angel, baby. come on, wake up.” you say softly. Angel starts to stir slightly and opens his eyes. they widen slightly when they land on you.
“oh my god, are you okay?!” Angel says, swiftly pulling you into a tight hug. he starts to cry softly into your shoulder, and all you can do is hold him.
“Angel, what happened?” you ask him. he pulls you closer, his body racking with sobs. you run your fingers through his hair and kiss his temple, your other hand rubbing his back.
“you died, baby. you died and i couldn’t do nothin’. i was so scared.” Angel said into your shoulder. you hold him tighter, worry etched onto your features.
“baby, i’m not going no where. i promise.” you say into his hair and kiss all over his face. “i love you too much to leave you, darling.”
Angel looked up at you and wiped his eyes with his upper set of arms, his bottom set hugging your waist. he smiles softly.
“promise, toots?”
“i promise, baby”
you lean down and kiss him softly. he smiles into the kiss and holds your face, but the kiss was short lived due to a needy pig squeezing himself between you two. you and Angel both laugh softly and snuggle Fat Nuggets. as you drift off, the last thing you hear is Angel’s soft voice.
“i love you, baby”
Adam is a pretty heavy sleeper. he sleeps through anything, especially when he's having a nightmare.
it was roughly 1am, and you were still up. you were tossing and turning, still unable to fall asleep. your head snapped to Adam when you heard a small whimper. his face was contorted in fear and his limbs were stretched around his side of the bed.
"Adam, honey. wake up" you whisper, leaning over to him.
no luck, obviously. he could sleep through a hurricaine.
"Adam, come on. wake up" you shake his shoulder, and his eyes snap open. his body shoots up as he gasps, his face buried in his hands.
"Adam...what's going on? you've been having nightmares all week, baby."
Adam looks at you with eyes that tug at your heart. pupils large and tears threatening to spill out of his beautiful golden eyes.
"oh, baby." You guide him to lay back down and cuddle into his side, your arm subconsciously stretching over his stomach, the part of his body that he's most insecure of, and caress his wing.
"i'm not leaving you, Adam. i promise" you say, leaning up and kissing his chin. "i love you too much to leave you"
Adam looked down at you, his eyes glossed with tears as he looks at you with pure love.
"you mean more to me than Eve and Lillith combined. i'd die if i didn't have you" Adam whispered, making your heart flutter.
"i love you, Adam. now sleep. i'll be here when you wake up"
Adam shifted onto his side so he faced you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, a dopey smile tugging at his lips.
"i love you, babe"
"go to sleep, dick master"
"FUCK YEAH! someone understands my role here! fucking finally!"
"shut up and sleep, Adam*
Lucifer liked to wrap his wings around you while you slept, mainly because it made you feel safe, but also because he wanted to assure himself you wouldn't leave like Lillith.
your eyes flutter open as you feel Lucifer's wings twitching against you. you peer up and see Lucifer crying in his sleep, a distressed look on his face. you quickly sit up and bring him close to you, holding him.
"hey, hey, it's okay, Luci. i need you to wake up, my love" you coo softly, looking down at his face.
his eyes open swiftly and his wings open to their full size, knocking the nearby painting off the wall.
"hey, you're okay. it's okay" you say to him, your heart breaking as he looks up at you with fear in his glossed-over eyes.
"you...you're still here? you didn't leave?" Lucifer says softly, his hand reaching up to touch your face. your heart aches even more as he says this.
"no baby, i didn't leave. i'll never leave. i promise" you say, running your fingers through his hair.
his large red irises bore into you lovingly as a tear falls from his eye.
"you...you won't?" Lucifer questions, and you shake your head.
"never ever. i'll stay here as long as you'll let me" you say, leaning down to peck his lips.
he looks up at you with a small smile. his eyes say everything his mouth can't right now.
"come on, Luci. let's go back to bed." you say, guiding him to lay back down. once you're comfortably situated, he buries his face in your chest and falls asleep rather quickly.
you giggle softly, "good night Lucifer. i love you"
#angel dust x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin#hazbin hotel smut#alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x you#angel dust#angel dust hazbin hotel#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar x reader#adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin adam
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