hello! my name is halle, (hah-lee, think halle bailey), my pronouns are she/her, i’m in college, and i’m from the united states(FL)! i love books, writing, sewing, the color yellow, the beach, all nerdy stuff ever, and bedrotting🤍
the characters i CURRENTLY write for include:
the doctor (10th)
mattheo riddle
tom riddle
percy jackson
jon snow
superman/clark kent
my requests are always open unless i say otherwise! :) and if you just wanna talk about random stuff that’s okay too! i’m always down for making new friends ⋆ ★
i will not write:
self-harm/suicide ☒
non-consensual acts ☒
male reader ☒
rlly weird stuff.! ☒ just keep it normal my lovelies 🤍
if you skip past the warnings on any posts, i am not responsible for how you react. lets just keep a positive vibe going on and have fun! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
she’s the type of flower that can still grow after a forest fire.
loyal to the bone. adventurous. extroverted. cups with more cream than coffee. honey. strawberries. digital cameras. animals. sunflowers and daisies. flowy dresses. paint-stained fingers.
warnings: head injury and all the symptoms that come with it such as vomiting, dizziness, slurring, delusion, and passing out. panicked!doctor. reader who does NAWT get that this is serious😭. lowercase because it makes me feel cool and aesthetic😓
summary: it was supposed to be an uneventful trip. just a fun time at a festival being held during 23rd century earth—a recovery trip after the last high-stakes trip you two went on. however, nothing with the doctor ever goes quite to plan.
word count: 1,936
a/n: i 🤍 doctor who and think the fandom should be bigger☹️ should i start a gofundme for it???
in all honesty, you’re not quite sure what exactly happened. one minute you and the doctor were having a grand old time, taking free samples from cart vendors and smiling as you watched happy couples, young and old, dance to some newly trending weird hip hop/electric mix. the next thing you knew, people were screaming in terror— very high pitched, might i add, and running for their lives.
the rest of it is somewhat a blur, but you remember the important parts. you and the doctor fought against the crowd of panic-stricken patrons to see what all the fuss was about, which was where you encountered… well, i don’t know exactly what.
it was almost eight feet tall and seemed to have nothing tying it to reality. no muscles, veins, wires, brains, or anything of that nature. just a freakishly reflective, glass-like material that had colors dancing along its surface. it would have been awe-inspiring had it not seemed very intent on violence with no achille’s heal. everywhere where limbs would typically meet had sharp, clean-cut lines, like some sort of figure you would see in a geometry problem.
it had no face, just smooth glass, and inside of its torso you could faintly see a pulsing purple light every couple of seconds, like it was was trapped and looking for a way out. you and the doctor met eyes, and with a smile you were off. his job: find out whatever the hell that thing was and how to stop it. your job? help bystanders wherever you can and try to make sense of the doctor’s rambles enough so that you can make his typically overly complicated solution a lot simpler.
it would happen quite frequently. the doctor would go on a rant about how there was an extremely complex solution that was somehow unattainable, pulling at his hair in stress, and then you come in, tilt your head at him and say, “well… couldn’t we just do so and so?” and he would stare at you dead in the eyes for a second before he would light up, grab your face, smack a kiss onto your forehead and yell, “you’re a genius!”
that was your job. the doctor was so smart that sometimes he failed to see the simple things, that and he could easily get revved up, which is where he needed you to calm down. you and him assessed the situation until he had a vague idea what was going on and was leading you frantically by the wrist toward an answer.
in that time however, your eyes locked with those of a little boy with a bloody gash across his cheek, cowering underneath an abandoned stall. your feet halted before your brain could process the request, and your hand slipped from the doctors. he looked back to you, eyes inquisitive and running all around you 10 miles a minute. his eyes caught on the boy and darted back to you. the being was slightly closer to him now, and his tiny face was scrunched up, hands together in what seemed to be a prayer.
“angel…”
“i have to. you have this— use that brain of yours and save us, yeah? i’ll help as many of them as i can.”
the doctor’s brows knitted together, downturned with his forehead scrunched as it always did when worried. that paired with his dark, wide and scanning eyes made him resemble a sad puppy. “be careful.” it was said in his firm voice, the one he pulled out when people were in danger and he was directing them, or when he was addressing a being with an aggressive streak. a sharp nod and then you were running to the boy, and he was running to do whatever it is he does.
after jumping over fallen bodies and rubble, you were across the square with the child, crouching behind a fallen booth to remain unnoticed, hands twitching with adrenaline. screams sounded faintly behind you, but it sounded almost underwater as you addressed the adolescent. you weren’t even sure if the sounds were still from the alien. usually in terrified mobs like this, people began stomping and shoving each other in a self-defensive haze where all they could think was escape. quick.
“hey, bud. fancy getting out of here?” the boy’s head jerked up and down in a frenzied movement, and after that it all gets a bit blurry. you can somewhat recall giving him instructions, leading him and a couple of others to an unharmed building out of the direct battle, and then…
ah, yes. you got blasted across the pavement by the glass thing with a device it seemed oh-so-fond of. a dull thwack echoed within your skull, ears ringing, vision blurred. you had laid there for a moment, blinking futilely to clear your vision, and had then vomited all over the grass upon sitting up. not your best look, i’ll admit. the giant glass-man stomped over to you, laying breathlessly on the floor heaving, and then it stopped. you remember thinking the doctor as black crept in and out from the sides of your sight.
you decided to lay back down, on the red-stained grass now instead of the harsh pavement, trusting him to take care of it. the sky was spinning, you remember thunking funnily. in what could of been seconds or hours, the doctor defeated whatever it was and was now standing over you, saying your name over and over.
“hi.” you giggled, trying to stay awake for him. when you focused, you noticed he looked so worried you couldn’t help but frown. “you look sad. ‘m okay, really. just want ‘a lie down.” your words were slurred, you recognized briefly. that wasn’t great.
“darling, where does it hurt?” his hands were running up and down your sides, eyes darting all over you, you realized. “i ‘dunno, i feel fine. think i hit my head though, and threw up over there-” your head tilted to the side with a sloppy movement, “which wasn’t too fun.” you trailed off in a genuine laugh. the doctor swore under his breath, and then it seemed like you blinked and you were in his arms, being carried through the tardis doors.
“eyes on me, love. you’re doing so good, just stay awake, mhm?” you giggled, nodding with half-open eyes and mumbling something involving the word hot. you were clearly delirious, the doctor noted, and it seemed like both of his hearts were malfunctioning in his chest, his lungs tight like they couldn’t get a full breath of air in. usually, you were the one to calm him down when things got bad with a gentle, reassuring smile and your hand laid on his arm, manicured nails all done up and pretty, something he would tease you for.
now your hand laid limp on his chest as he carried you through the ships hull to his room. he laid you as gently as possible on his bed, smoothing your hair back from your face in a soft movement, and got to work. he wasn’t named the doctor for no reason, mind you. you watched for as long as you possibly could, but then the pain started to bite at the back of your head and various places over your body where you were sure scrapes littered.
“doctor?” you whispered.
his gaze bounced to you instantly, away from whatever medical contraption he was working on, face pulled tight and troubled. “what is it, angel?”
“hurts.”
he looked somewhat… devastated at that.
“i know, darling. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i should’ve been there, but i’m going to fix it, okay? i’m going to fix you. trust me.”
“always.” you muttered, eyes shutting despite yourself. you heard him panic slightly, pleading with you to stay awake, but you were bone-tired, and for once, you couldn’t listen to the doctor.
the next time you awoke, there was a dull aching all over your body. you looked over to find the doctor slumped asleep in his desk chair beside the bed, glasses askew on his face that was laid against his palm. his hair was tousled as though he’d run his hands through it a million times, and his desk a mess of chemistry equations, it looked like.
you tried to sit up, in vain, wincing as your muscles and bones protested. the slight shuffling of sheets alerted the doctor, who jolted upright in his chair. his bloodshot eyes met yours, and you gave him a sheepish smile that pretty much said “sorry i almost died”!
he quickly adjusted his crooked lenses so he could see you, leaning forward and grasping your hand in his. “hi.” you croaked, voice hoarse from lack of usage. he wordlessly passed you a glass of water from the nightstand, which you gulped greedily before setting it down and wiping your mouth. the doctor was still examining you, catching every minuscule reaction, every twitch, every wince.
“how long was i, um, out?”
it was silent for a moment, and then, “a day.” you nodded, and then it was silent again. you made a movement, your hand raising to touch the back of your head, and the doctor’s hand tightened around your other. “you’ve got a nasty bump. nothing catostrophic, i checked. many times, a bit obsessively if i’m being honest. purely medical reasons, obviously.” you smiled at him, relieved to hear him speak in his rambles that were just so him.
“obviously.” you replied, lips quirking. his mouth opened. closed. opened again. and then, “do you- well… how are you feeling?” you considered and brought your shoulders up and down. “better. a little achy, but okay.” the doctor’s eyes buried into yours, his head jerked in a firm nod. “right.”
silence. again. how does one converse normally after almost dying? the doctor’s throat cleared, pulling your attention away from the stray strands of fabric you were pulling at from your blanket and to his face. “i thought-” his voice shook, and he coughed, something he would pretend to do to compose himself whenever his feelings were too large for his two hearts.
“nevermind. you’re awake, that’s what matters.”
“doctor…”
your voice was soft and understanding, an invitation. he looked at you, eyes desperate.
“don’t.”
it was his faux stern voice, the one he would use when you were encroaching on a delicate subject, one that was raw and jagged in his mind. you would push anyways, prying his feelings out of him like a dentist to a rotten tooth— scared at first but you always end up feeling better. he had told you things that no ears had heard before, spoke words he could formally never make himself utter.
he must’ve seen something on your face, something that had his eyes welling beyond his control. he was a time lord for crying out loud, how did you always manage to reduce him to a mortal man? you opened your arms, inviting, and spoke in a tender voice, “come here.” and he came, like he always did.
he lifted you gently as he shuffled in beside you, setting you down so that you were sitting straddled intimately on his lap, arms around his neck with his face concealed in your shoulder. his shoulders shook as you whispered sweet nothings into his ear, things like, “i’m okay” and “we’re still together. we made it. we always do.”
minutes later, when his silent cries had stopped leaking onto your cotton shirt, he spoke quietly. “stay with me, yeah? just for a bit.”
warnings: angst and fluff, mention of pet death, really sucky day, pet name galore, no coffee :(
summary: you’re having a pretty shitty day, but for the first time, you let someone feel it with you.
a/n: hi guys!! sorry it took me so long to get a bunny!reader out, school has been kicking my ASS. i must have re-read this a thousand times so i could figure out where i was and finish it, so i’m not sure how i’m feeling abt it… let me know!! <3
in your defense, you typically always kept your emotions tight under lock and key. nobody except your parents had ever seen you cry, and even they hadn’t seen the rare sight for over 10 years.
you weren’t heartless, you were simply cautious about who you allowed to see your vulnerable moments. the idea of someone seeing you at your weakest made your skin itch and chest tighten.
so, when a means of emotional release was necessary, you would wait until you were alone and let it out like any normal person. in the 6 months you and clark had been together, he had never once witnessed one of those moments. until today.
it started as soon as you woke up, on your own accord, of course, because why would your alarm go off? as you were scrambling to get ready and out of the door to make it to the daily planet in time, you knocked over your freshly brewed cup of coffee, making a mess of your kitchen and earning an angry burn on your hand.
settling with the fact that you would just have to be miserable without your caffeine, you headed out to catch the subway, where you got seated next to an agitated old man who wished to argue about politics to anyone who would listen. your attempts to curl in on yourself so he wouldn’t notice you weren’t very successful.
after surviving that, you really hoped your luck would have turned. nope. as soon as you walked into the lobby, your phone rang with an alert that your debit card had been flagged with fraud charges and would have to be cancelled. wonderful.
finally getting situated at your desk, your computer booting up and sipping on a cold, stale coffee you snagged from the break room, you figured it could only go up from there. how wrong you were. only an hour into your shift, perry called your name loudly from the bullpen and every head around swiveled to look at you.
it made hives want to jump up from underneath your flesh, but you stood and quietly walked over to him, giving the impression of a kicked bunny as he announced the news that you would have to be taken off the important events column for the week and be put onto the gossip column.
not that there was anything wrong with it, you always enjoyed sitting quietly as cat rambled on and on about her latest article, but seriously? you? you didn’t have a single gossip-y, cool-girl bone in your body. (so you think, everyone else would disagree.)
your already barely surviving energy deflated like a sad, pathetic balloon, and clark wasn’t even around to cheer you up with his world-shattering smile. he was out chasing an article, per perry’s request, who was really getting on your nerves today. and you didn’t say that lightly! everybody knew it took a hell of a lot to get on your bad side.
it was only fitting that after that, in the theme of bad days, your computer would randomly restart and lose everything you had been working on for 2 days. not that you would be needing it anyway, considering your newfound column, but you could’ve used it for next time!
in your frantic attempt to write down all that had been lost so you wouldn’t forget, your ringtone began to blare from your pocket. quickly taking the call into a quiet corner, you listened as your mother rambled on about how your childhood cat, nemo, had passed away last night.
unfortunately for clark, that was the exact moment he walked in through the elevator, his eyes subconsciously scanning for yours. you hung up the call silently, beginning to walk back to your desk with a dissociated demeanor, and your eyes met clark.
he bounded over like an eager puppy, smiling brightly and holding out a cup of hot coffee for you. he expected your usual reaction, a light rosy tone coloring your cheeks, looking up at him with grateful eyes and whispering that he shouldn’t have gone to the trouble. he would definitely not have guessed this.
he watched in absolute horror as your wide, sad eyes began to fill with gut-wrenching tears, bottom lip wobbling despite all attempts to control it. he felt his chest tighten in sheer panic, his mind quickly running through every scenario of what could have possibly happened while he was gone to make you, his happy girl, cry.
and then you were gone, running out of the bullpen and towards the ladies room, bumping into people and desks due to the distorted vision your tears were supplying. it was so unusual to your normal, graceful demeanor that many people stopped to watch in friendly worry. it made everything feel ten times worse.
you slammed the stall door closed behind you, your breath coming out in small, short puffs, palms sweaty and face blotchy. nausea rose in your gut as you pressed your hands to your face, coming back covered in salty drops.
it was all too much, and you finally lost it. you heard the loud, nervous footsteps before you heard his voice. “honey? please let me in.” you hiccuped, gaining your strength before saying, “you can’t be in here.”
clark knew. if anyone was too walk in right now, they would be alarmed, for sure, but he couldn’t bring himself to care because it was you, and you were hurting. “i know. please let me in?”
you didn’t reply, only undid the metal lock with great hesitance. in a second, clark’s big frame was in there with you, his warm hands gently swiping away the tears that just kept coming. “oh, baby. what happened?”
you shook your head, burying your face into his fancy button-up, each sob cracking a piece off of clark’s composure. his heart felt fragmented in his chest, and it appeared like there was nothing he could do. screw that.
he drew back, large palms cupping your cheeks firmly and making your eyes meet his. “bunny, you gotta talk to me. let me fix it, yeah?” the desperation laced in his voice is what got you, and you spilled.
“my alarm didn’t go off, and then i spilt my coffee and burnt my hand-” (you ignored how clark immediately began to examine it in worry) “and then i got seated next to this really weird old dude on the subway who kept trying to argue-” (you ignored the tightening of his jaw) “and then my card was cancelled, perry put me on the freaking gossip column, i lost 2 days worth of work, and my cat died!”
your words turned to incoherent cries towards the end, but clark’s super hearing and knowledge of everything you helped him get the point. you shoved your face into his chest again, and his heart ached with the knowledge that all he could do was be here.
“i know honey, i know. it’s okay, i’m right here.” he whispered into your ear, allowing you the time you needed to compose yourself, hand running up and down your small back comfortingly. after a few moments, your sad sniffles began to quiet and you stepped back a pace, wiping your face.
heavy guilt weighed on your chest as you examined clark’s tear-soaked shirt and the worry creasing his brows. “i’m sorry.” you said quietly, hands fidgeting together. “hey, none of that. absolutely not.” he grabbed your hands, encircling them easily in his own.
“i’m happy you let me be here, okay? golly, it would’ve broken my heart if i wasn’t here and you were going through this alone.” his tone left no room for discussion. you nodded, not fully convinced but not having the energy to argue.
“now, what do you need me to do, baby?” you paused, looking up at his huge frame that was shoved uncomfortably into the small stall, probably causing a crook in his neck as he had to slightly bend.
“can we go home…?” you said it with such uncertainty that his face softened further than thought possible. “jeez, bun, yeah. of course. what, did you think we were going to stay here?” he says, and a little laugh escapes you despite all odds.
his face breaks out into a marvelous, accomplished smile, and he moves to unslide the metal stall lock. you both huddle out together like penguins, his clark’s hand rested firmly on your lower back, guiding you with a soft dominance without even realizing it.
“grab your coat, okay honey? i’ll talk to perry.” you nod along, quickly looking in the mirror across the room to check that you weren’t a complete mess before walking out cautiously, like a timid creature, back to your desk.
in minutes, the two of you were gone, walking hand in hand down the sidewalk towards the staff parking lot. (clark had nudged you to the side facing away from the road without even realizing it.)
“thank you, clark.” your voice was quiet, nearly undetectable to anyone passing by with the noise of the city all around. but to clark? it was the only thing he could hear.
the feeling of his lips atop of your head warmed your cheeks as he whispered, “always.”
clark kent had a loud presence. the man was somehow always bumping into something, stumbling away with a rushed apology and a whispered golly. he frequently made front page, had very vocalized opinions, and could make even the gloomiest of souls smile. that was just him.
you weren’t like clark kent. your presence was quiet. timid. always lingering in corners with an innocent doe-eyed look resembling a lost stray. nobody really knew you, and you were okay with that. content.
that was until, of course, your trial period with perry expired, and he wanted you to begin writing pages. never in a million years would you have thought your first ever article would make the front page, and you surely didn’t expect the disastrous speedy incline of your popularity.
your intellect scared the hell out of people. usually, when someone was smart, everyone in the world had to know about it. you? you were fine being the wordless coffee-girl, hiding behind loaded to-go bags.
which is why it was so shocking that your article brought a fresh, never-before used prospective, pointing out details and patterns nobody would think to twice out, and you did it all so…humbly? practically unheard of in the journalism world.
the morning after your first ever article was horrendous chaotic. everybody stopped you everywhere you went, it seemed. “yo, coffee girl! where’d all that come from, ey?” “why didn’t you tell us you were secretly a poet, huh?” “front page on your first article? god really does have favorites.”
the only constant remained lois, the one person you interacted with before your newfound popular status. when you finally had a moment to breathe between being smothered by small talk, she walked up, leaning on the side of your desk with a nonchalantness you could only dream of. “told you, girl. when you finally opened that brilliant mouth of yours, nobody would be able to look away.”
“i wish they would.”
you said it with such an earnest tone, full of despair and hopelessness that she couldn’t help her loud laughter. your cheeks burned as every head in a 5-mile-radius turned in your direction, every set of eyes wide and shock-filled.
“she’s got jokes, too? what the hell is going on today?”
“suck my dick, jim.” lois replied. you took the opportunity to sink back down in your seat, tugging nervously on the sleeve of your sweater.
you weren’t expecting the firm voice that would come to your social rescue. “enough.” lois and jimmy both turned to look at clark, who was looking at… you?
the two of them exchanged looks, communicating in an indecipherable series of eyebrow raises and eye darts before turning to face clark with a smirk.
“i’ve got a paper…”
“i’m just gonna…”
and then they were gone. you sighed, sinking further into your seat and closing your eyes, inhaling deeply and attempting to get your line of life thinking back on track. to your upmost surprise, when you opened your eyes, clark was still there. watching you?
you felt your face get hot, knowing without looking that your cheeks were matching the rosy shade creeping up on clark’s as he quickly stumbled away.
I was tagged by @sophieturnersdoppelganger (thank you)
favorite color ⊹ ࣪ ˖ would it be too basic if I said black. black or sage green.
last song ⊹ ࣪ ˖ nettles by ethel cain <3
currently reading ⊹ ࣪ ˖ six of crows, rereading a song of ice and fire (still on AGOT)
currently watching ⊹ ࣪ ˖ lotr & the hobbit. my little sister had never seen them so I'm forcing her to watch them with me. and she's making me watch the walking dead (need rick and daryl tbh. also negan)
currently craving ⊹ ࣪ ˖ nothing. I can't taste anything rn because I am so sick but if I had to choose something to eat, it would he tomato soup.
coffee or tea ⊹ ࣪ ˖ can I say neither? 😭 I am a coffee hater but tea is alright, it depends on what kind. only peppermint or chamomile with honey is acceptable
no pressure tags (IDK WHO HAS DONE THIS SRY IF U WERE ALREADY TAGGED, I don't have a lot of mutuals yet) @satlun @dipperscavern @oldtowrs
favorite color ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | big big fan of cream, any color blue, and all the more muted shades of green.
last song ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | pushing it down and praying by lizzie mcalpine
currently reading ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | oh god, you don't even want to know. for fun, the crescent city series, specifically book two. for not all fun but because i'm a psychotic, obsessive biochemist I have Ravenous by Sam Apple (cancer biology), Silent Spring by Rachel Carson, Entangled Life by Merlin Sheldrake, The Secret of Life by Howard Markel, and Song of the Cell by Siddhartha Mukherjee
currently watching ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | this is so stupid but Rupaul's Drag Race lmfao. I also need to finish The Last of Us S2, and I have yet to watch season 2 of Arcane. And The Pitt.
currently craving ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | smoothie bowls have had a grip on my life recently. that brown sugar shaken espressos, and cucumber. weird combo but It works.
coffee or tea ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | both? but heavy on the coffee, literally I work at a Starbucks and am a coffee master... coffee.
no pressure tags!!! @dipperscavern @eldrith @oncasette @fleurbies @frodosrings @mothswan and literally any of my other moots (love y'all dearly <3)
favorite color ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | i just love green !! any shade of it really, sage to pastel to a forest green :3 but ive been drawn to a good orange lately just because of the warmth i associate with it
last song ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | star shopping by lil peep (though my favs of his are feelz & keep my coo!)
currently reading ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | i’ve been so busy i really haven’t had the time :( but i just reread a favorite of mine which is the green mile by stephen king, and im thinking about picking up the dune books again
currently watching ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | LMAO THE OCTONAUTS FOR SHITS N GIGS 😭 ITS GOOD IM SORRY !!!!! but anyways, im resuming s2 of dexter & s….3?4? of suits, & ive been thinking of rewatching got again !! basically im just picking up things i’ve dropped during my Busyness
currently craving ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | a mcdonald’s large fry (for some reason), a blue raspberry slushy from a gas station with bars on its windows, and about three different political assassinations
coffee or tea ⊹ ࣪ ˖ | uhhhh neither ? depends on how you define tea bc i’m very southern & sweet tea is a staple for me, but i know it’s not like ‘real tea’ to most people so ???? either way it’s either tea or nothing, my poor tummy can’t handle coffee (and i’ve never had the taste for it)
no pressure tags !! @swordgrace @eldrith @idonthavemymootsnamesmemorized @halles-notebook & anyone that wants to join
oh em gee yayy!!! thank u so much for thinking of me dippy my love, here goes!!
favorite color: i’m stuck between three as of right now because i’m very indecisive, so it’s a tie between dark green, light pink, and light yellow!!!
last song: ribs by lorde 🤍
currently reading: i just finished a book by ali hazelwood called “problematic summer romance”!!
currently watching: guys this is a judgement free zone right….😓 because i’ve given into tiktok brainrot and begun watching love island. LEAVE ME BE IM WEAK OKAY
currently craving: a baja blast, a nice trip to b&n, butter pecan ice cream, and for our country to not be bombing iran rn!!
coffee or tea: i personally am a coffee person!!! that’s not to say i don’t like tea, but a good dunkin’ frozen coffee will make my morning🙏 you know what they say… america runs on dunkin and rage baiting!!
and idk who to tag so yeah!!! feel free to join for anyone seeing this who wants too🤍
𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: what happens when you overhear a conversation between steve and tommy about how ‘clingy’ you are?
𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: steve harrington x fem!reader
𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: two tiny uses of y/n, brief moment of douchey king steve, angsty distancing, sad+confused steve, etc etc!
𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒: hi honeys!! in honor of the season 5 trailer, i had to write for my bby since 2016!!! also, first season of stranger things came out on my birthday… meant to be??? i hope u guys enjoy!!!🤍
nerves of excitement raced through your veins, heating your blood and making your heart pound. you were speed-walking through the halls, gaining a couple of odd looks, but you were too happy to care.
you had a sheet of paper clutched in your hand, a bright red stamp on the right corner. A+. you struggled greatly in chemistry, a fact all your friends and family knew. the class was practically created by a sociopathic masochist, math and science rolled into one? no way.
but you’d studied until your eyes crossed for this exam, and clearly your efforts had paid off. you couldn’t wait to tell steve. knowing his last class of the day, you opened the door to the gym and pranced in, a proud beam on your face.
your eyes found his figure immediately, stood a couple of feet away chatting with tommy. you hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but their conversation easily met your ears, making you guiltily hide behind a rack filled with basketballs to understand their topic.
“great game, dude. me and the boys are gonna be at marcus’s house tonight for a get together, beer and basketball. you in?”
“i can’t, sorry. i’m having dinner with y/n tonight.”
you felt tommy’s scoff more than you heard it. “again? when was the last time you hung out with us, man? seems a little clingy if you ask me.”
ouch. clingy. you’d been called it more times than you could describe in past relationships, being told you’re “too much.” you’d confided in steve about it, as well. your deep-rooted insecurities that you were overwhelming and annoying, your affections drowning.
he’d assured you with that smile that was just so steve that you were the perfect amount. that he loved your attention and endearments, and for the first time, you’d believed him. surely he would defend you, right? wrong.
his laugh met your ears, and you swore you could hear a little crack in your chest as your eyes began to water. if only you could see his face, you’d see how forced and uncomfortable he truly looked. “i mean, i guess.”
“i’m telling you, it’s toxic. i had a girl like that before, had to ditch her. wasn’t healthy, y’know? you gotta look after you man.” your breath hitched, anxiously awaiting his response. there was silence for a couple of moments, and then… “yeah, you’re right. i’ll think on it. thanks, tommy.”
“no problem, dude.” you could taste the salty tears running down your cheeks onto your lips. you briefly heard the crinkle of paper as your hand made a fist. you had to get out of here. you turned, mood drastically different than when you entered, and left the foul-smelling building.
the whole way home as you drove, the words repeated in your head. clingy. toxic. clingy. toxic. you’d just have to show him that you could be different, then.
ᝰ.ᐟ
it had been two weeks. two weeks of no phone calls, no hand-holding in the halls, no dates, nothing. just forced laughs and a distant look in your eyes whenever he spoke. steve was going mad, racking his brain for whatever could’ve caused this.
he’s lost count of the times he’s asked you if you were alright. before this, you would’ve looked at him with a fond smile and a roll of your eyes, leaning on his shoulder and replying, “i’m fine, stevie! you worry too much.” now, all he gets is an unconvincing mhm and a too-bright smile.
he’s unbelievably confused. and more than that, scared. what had happened to make you act like this? so… not you? which is how he finds himself outside of your house sunday morning, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand and an anxious deposition.
he’s going to apologize. what for, he has no clue, but it doesn’t matter. he needs you back. not this robotic version of you. palms sweaty, he brings his hand to knock, hearing a couple of shouts and jingling before the door opens to reveal your mother.
“oh, steve! hey, sweetie. i didn’t know you were coming. y/n is just upstairs, you can head on up.” he murmurs a tiny thank you, slipping off his shoes before walking up the stairs, passing the photos of you throughout the years on the way. his chest clenches.
he reaches your door. closes his eyes. inhales. exhales. opens his eyes. and then knocks. he hears a tiny, “come in,” and slowly twists the knob. there you are, in all of your glory, hair in a tussled bun as you sit on your windowsill, book in hand. you look up, and steve swears his can see the briefest flash of panic in your eyes before you shutter it and put your book down.
“what are you doing here?” it slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. is he here to finally break up with you? he hesitates, and then takes a seat at your desk across from you.
“did i… do something? to make you like this?” he waves his hand towards you, and your brows furrow. he continues you before you can say anything. “i mean, you haven’t called me ‘stevie’ in weeks. you barely talk to me, we only see each other at school, and when we do, you’re not actually there. you’re like- like detached. i miss you. please let me fix whatever this is.” his chest huffs from the speed of which he spoke the frantic words, and you blink, confused.
“i… i thought this was what you wanted?” you say, voice small and perplexed. steve lets out a disbelieving, sad laugh. “why the hell would i want that?” you pause, and then to his utmost horror your eyes begin to fill with gut wrenching tears. you sniffle, and his his heart breaks.
“i heard you. with tommy, in the gym. you-” hiccup. “he said that i was clingy and toxic. said that you should break up with me. you… you agreed. i thought that… that if i give you some space-” steve’s expression is a horrified, panicky visage of despair. “oh god, honey, no. fuck. i’m so, so sorry. i would never.” he stands, and within a moment, he’s with you, holding your shaking form in his arms.
“i just said that to get him off my back. tommy is an asshole, and he’ll never change or understand my viewpoint. there’s no point in arguing with him. i’m so, so sorry that i made you think that. jesus, if anyone’s the clingy one, it’s me. i was going insane. i love you. i love your ‘clinginess’ more than you could ever understand. it makes me feel loved and wanted, and i’m so sorry that i made you feel the opposite. i want my girl back.”
your tears are leaking into his shirt, each one feeling like a punch to his gut. he holds you tighter, as if the stronger his embrace, the more he could chase away your insecurities. you sniffle, hope slowly creeping back up. “really?”
“fuck yes, really. i brought you white roses and everything. i will get on me knees and beg, if you want me to.” a giggle slips out of your mouth, and steve feels his heart slowly being glued back together.
“what a sight that would be. king steve, begging for my forgiveness.” he pulls away, hand gripping your jaw gently. “i don’t want to be king steve. i want to be stevie, yeah?” a soft, teasing smile appears on your face.
“i thought you hated that nickname.”
“i’d kill a demogorgan to get it back right now.” he answers with no hesitation, complete seriousness in his unwavering gaze. you laugh, and the sight makes steve want to cry out of relief.
“i forgive you, stevie.” his lips are on yours in an instant, the kiss sloppy and desperate and everything you both need. every swipe of his tongue a reassurance, every whimper a promise. “thank you.” he speaks against your lips, over and over again. he pulls away, both of you panting and flushed, foreheads rested together. “i love you.” he whispers, the syllables drifting out of his mouth and straight into your chest. “i love you, too.” it’s silent for a peaceful moment, and then…
i was staring at my wall just pondering like the mysterious person i am, and i had a thought… you guys know that one scene in season one where jon is standing over what’s his face and is like “no one touches sam😤”
now imagine that but with his lady. yeah that’s all. goodnight.
Hi bby! I hope you’re doing well and that your exams went well :) feel free to ignore my message if you’re too busy or just not interested but I am currently watching game of thrones season 1 (yes I fear the obsession with Jon Snow is not yet over 😔) and though I know it’s kind of an overused trope I wanted to know what you thought of Jon snow with a fem reader who is part of the night’s watch with him ? In my mind I have this like badass reader pretty cold and all but really just unused to people really caring about her and I’d love to know how you’d see him act with a reader like that!
hi my lovely!!! tysm for the positive vibes coming my way towards exams, and i absolutely love this ask!!! hope i did it justice 🤍 (THE JON OBSESSION WILL NEVER END RAHHHHH✊🦅)
———————————————————
you could still remember the moment everything clicked into place for you. you were a mere 6 years old, hopes still intact and naive heart unbroken. you’d ran to your father, sloppy needlework in tow with an excited, gapped-tooth smile.
you can still remember the disgust etched onto the wrinkles of his worn face, the hatred in his eyes as he discarded the gift and told you to go find your “whore of a mother.”
you didn’t understand what the word meant, how could you? but you were never stupid. in fact, you were always too clever for your own good, and you understood the negative connotation bored into his syllables.
your shiny, tearful eyes looked up at him, wondering what you had done, and that same hopeful, naive light slowly began to dim. that was when you began to learn a lesson that would stay with you for years, keep your heart close and your face cold. be your own most trusted advisor.
17 years and many new scars later, you were the only woman in the nights watch, and two times the average man. and then there was jon snow. when he first came along, gentle and boyish in a way many can’t capture, you were intrigued.
even more so when you found out he was better than all your men. (well… technically not your men, but you beat them into shape, so who’s counting?) shields rightfully raised and snippy in a way most who are threatened are, you managed to keep him at arms distance for a while, but not nearly long enough.
as it turns out, jon snow, the bastard of winterfell, most resembled a puppy with the clueless, devoted way he would follow you around.
“seven hells, would you leave me alone?”
“aye, i could, but why would i?”
the further you would push, the more he would pull, until ever so slowly, your walls began to crack. he enjoyed pestering you, was much too trusting, and more honorable than any man you’d ever met. he was a phenomenon, an absolute obscurity that you were unable to understand, which only made you all the more determined to figure him out.
and for jon? he’d never thought of himself as one to seek out where he wasn’t wanted, and yet there was something about you that had him forgetting all reasoning and logic. because to him, no matter how puzzling and fascinating you found him, he would always view you tenfold.
that was, until you smiled at him, truly, for the first time, dimples on display and a beam so bright as to rival the suns. then? he could care less about anything you might be hiding, he would be wholly, completely yours, his sword and heart belonging to you only.
it was such a dumb joke. so immature and child-like that you couldn’t help but laugh.
then you saw him staring at you, his eyes wondrous and cheeks tinted rose, and yours couldn’t help but match as your lips slowly morphed into their regular position.
months later, you begin to understand the fact that jon snow wasn’t a dumb-wit at all. in fact, he was a despicable, evil genius, because he had so slowly squeezed himself into your life in a way that you couldn’t imagine his pestering, annoying presence not in it. and you despised him for it.
he was going on about some nonsense, per usual. finding any excuse to insert himself in your day.
“hey, jon?”
“aye?”
“stop talking.”
and then your lips would meet, sloppy and desperate in a way only yearning could explain.
any last shred of dignity and security you still held would be shred. you would finally accept your love for jon snow, and even further than that, trust him to be careful with your heart.
Hi bby! I hope you’re doing well and that your exams went well :) feel free to ignore my message if you’re too busy or just not interested but I am currently watching game of thrones season 1 (yes I fear the obsession with Jon Snow is not yet over 😔) and though I know it’s kind of an overused trope I wanted to know what you thought of Jon snow with a fem reader who is part of the night’s watch with him ? In my mind I have this like badass reader pretty cold and all but really just unused to people really caring about her and I’d love to know how you’d see him act with a reader like that!
hi my lovely!!! tysm for the positive vibes coming my way towards exams, and i absolutely love this ask!!! hope i did it justice 🤍 (THE JON OBSESSION WILL NEVER END RAHHHHH✊🦅)
———————————————————
you could still remember the moment everything clicked into place for you. you were a mere 6 years old, hopes still intact and naive heart unbroken. you’d ran to your father, sloppy needlework in tow with an excited, gapped-tooth smile.
you can still remember the disgust etched onto the wrinkles of his worn face, the hatred in his eyes as he discarded the gift and told you to go find your “whore of a mother.”
you didn’t understand what the word meant, how could you? but you were never stupid. in fact, you were always too clever for your own good, and you understood the negative connotation bored into his syllables.
your shiny, tearful eyes looked up at him, wondering what you had done, and that same hopeful, naive light slowly began to dim. that was when you began to learn a lesson that would stay with you for years, keep your heart close and your face cold. be your own most trusted advisor.
17 years and many new scars later, you were the only woman in the nights watch, and two times the average man. and then there was jon snow. when he first came along, gentle and boyish in a way many can’t capture, you were intrigued.
even more so when you found out he was better than all your men. (well… technically not your men, but you beat them into shape, so who’s counting?) shields rightfully raised and snippy in a way most who are threatened are, you managed to keep him at arms distance for a while, but not nearly long enough.
as it turns out, jon snow, the bastard of winterfell, most resembled a puppy with the clueless, devoted way he would follow you around.
“seven hells, would you leave me alone?”
“aye, i could, but why would i?”
the further you would push, the more he would pull, until ever so slowly, your walls began to crack. he enjoyed pestering you, was much too trusting, and more honorable than any man you’d ever met. he was a phenomenon, an absolute obscurity that you were unable to understand, which only made you all the more determined to figure him out.
and for jon? he’d never thought of himself as one to seek out where he wasn’t wanted, and yet there was something about you that had him forgetting all reasoning and logic. because to him, no matter how puzzling and fascinating you found him, he would always view you tenfold.
that was, until you smiled at him, truly, for the first time, dimples on display and a beam so bright as to rival the suns. then? he could care less about anything you might be hiding, he would be wholly, completely yours, his sword and heart belonging to you only.
it was such a dumb joke. so immature and child-like that you couldn’t help but laugh.
then you saw him staring at you, his eyes wondrous and cheeks tinted rose, and yours couldn’t help but match as your lips slowly morphed into their regular position.
months later, you begin to understand the fact that jon snow wasn’t a dumb-wit at all. in fact, he was a despicable, evil genius, because he had so slowly squeezed himself into your life in a way that you couldn’t imagine his pestering, annoying presence not in it. and you despised him for it.
he was going on about some nonsense, per usual. finding any excuse to insert himself in your day.
“hey, jon?”
“aye?”
“stop talking.”
and then your lips would meet, sloppy and desperate in a way only yearning could explain.
any last shred of dignity and security you still held would be shred. you would finally accept your love for jon snow, and even further than that, trust him to be careful with your heart.
Hi! I love your fics and drabbles about Jon snow !! I am currently kinda (just a little) obsessed with him 😔 so I just wanted to ask if you would be able to write a little something for him? Preferably fluff or angst/comfort? Thank you if you do and no worries if you don’t :)
hi my lovely!!! sorry for the late reply, it’s exam season!! here’s a little thing i cooked up in the oven, i hope you like it and it suits what you were looking for!!!!!!🤍
——————————————————
you can still feel the wind from that cold night dusting your nose, freezing your tears as they dripped down your cheeks. you can still hear the scream that clawed out of your throat as you saw jon, your jon, lying lifeless in the snow, a pool of blood tainting the ground around him.
since that cruel, gruesome night, you’ve attempted every way to remove the image of his betrayed, unmoving eyes that is now engraved in your brain. nothing works. nothing except the man himself.
logically, you know there is no possible way for jon king in the north snow to be with you, his….. (lover?) friend every waking moment. you know that. and yet, it doesn’t make that truth any harder to swallow.
it is not fair to jon for you to need his constant presence to cope with the battle raging in your brain. and yet, every night as you open your door to seek him out, lungs expanding only a heartbeat to quick, he’s already there, looking almost as if he needs your presence as much as you need his.
such a foolish thing to believe, your brain tells you. and yet, when his eyes connect with yours and his lips pull into that characterizing pout, the furrow between his brows softening, your heart can’t help but believe it. you can’t help but believe that this… (relationship?) friendship may not be as one sided as you believe.
his strong, rugged arms would wrap around your waist, pulling you straight into his safe embrace. he would allow his head to fall into the crook of your shoulder, his shoulders releasing their tension as he breathed in the flowery, feminine smell that constantly lingered in your hair, and suddenly everything would be okay.
he would squeeze you tighter into him, as if you could get any closer, and you would begin to realize that maybe you don’t need labels or thorough understanding. maybe this was just enough.
Hi! I love your fics and drabbles about Jon snow !! I am currently kinda (just a little) obsessed with him 😔 so I just wanted to ask if you would be able to write a little something for him? Preferably fluff or angst/comfort? Thank you if you do and no worries if you don’t :)
hi my lovely!!! sorry for the late reply, it’s exam season!! here’s a little thing i cooked up in the oven, i hope you like it and it suits what you were looking for!!!!!!🤍
——————————————————
you can still feel the wind from that cold night dusting your nose, freezing your tears as they dripped down your cheeks. you can still hear the scream that clawed out of your throat as you saw jon, your jon, lying lifeless in the snow, a pool of blood tainting the ground around him.
since that cruel, gruesome night, you’ve attempted every way to remove the image of his betrayed, unmoving eyes that is now engraved in your brain. nothing works. nothing except the man himself.
logically, you know there is no possible way for jon king in the north snow to be with you, his….. (lover?) friend every waking moment. you know that. and yet, it doesn’t make that truth any harder to swallow.
it is not fair to jon for you to need his constant presence to cope with the battle raging in your brain. and yet, every night as you open your door to seek him out, lungs expanding only a heartbeat to quick, he’s already there, looking almost as if he needs your presence as much as you need his.
such a foolish thing to believe, your brain tells you. and yet, when his eyes connect with yours and his lips pull into that characterizing pout, the furrow between his brows softening, your heart can’t help but believe it. you can’t help but believe that this… (relationship?) friendship may not be as one sided as you believe.
his strong, rugged arms would wrap around your waist, pulling you straight into his safe embrace. he would allow his head to fall into the crook of your shoulder, his shoulders releasing their tension as he breathed in the flowery, feminine smell that constantly lingered in your hair, and suddenly everything would be okay.
he would squeeze you tighter into him, as if you could get any closer, and you would begin to realize that maybe you don’t need labels or thorough understanding. maybe this was just enough.
i fear i literally need to straddle jon snow’s lap, my head in his shoulder and arms wrapped around his torso while one of his arms wraps around my waist and one of his hands lays on my thigh. it would solve all my problems😓
hi halle :) i have questions & queries and i'm afraid you're one of the only qualified people to deliver (we need more jon snow writers ugh) but can we (pretty) please have you share your thoughts on the kisses jon snow would give/receive ?? thoughts ?? (super sorry if this isn't an interesting request !!! no judgment xx)
hi anon hunny!!! tysm for the request, i absolutely LOVE THIS QUESTION. there’s two types of kisses i think jon would love giving the most.
1. forehead kisses. my god, this man is giving them at any opportunity. he’s heading down to his office for the day? forehead kiss while he has one hand on your cheek and the other gripping your neck. rough day? forehead kiss. facing each other in bed? sleepy forehead kiss where his lips linger for at least 3 seconds.
2. shoulder kisses. jon is constantly sneaking up behind you and wrapping his strong arms around your waist and dropping his head to the crook of your shoulder to plant a kiss there. when you shiver at the intimacy and sensitivity, you feel his lips grow into a grin where they rest.
now… what ways would jon love to receive kisses?
1. neck kisses. you cannot tell me that jon is not an absolute SLUT for neck kisses. imagine him sitting in his desk chair, head in his palms as he tries to make the words on the paper stop blurring, and you walk up quietly behind where he sits and ever so gently kiss that one spot on his neck. his whole body would relax and melt back into you, and he would release a sigh because everything is just realigning itself and fitting back into place so correctly.
2. slow, gentle lip kisses. jon loves passionate, heated make-outs as much as any sane man does, but his favorite by far is the tender, loving kisses stolen in the soft moments. when you’re both in the bath together, flushed with you facing him on his lap and his arms around your waist, and he leans in and steals a slow kiss that has both of you feeling so connected that you can almost feel each others souls wrapping around your own, he’s done for. there’s nothing that can save him from the emptiness he will feel when he ultimately has to release you from his arms.
my takes!! i hope you enjoyed and it was what you were looking for <3
hear me out. (also i’ve apparently risen from the dead?) jon snow x pregnant!reader.
────୨ৎ────
“we’re having a baby.” 4 words, 6 syllables, and yet his world was entirely, utterly changed. jon snow grew up 10 times more fortunate than most bastards, and yet 10 times less fortunate than his siblings. he was constantly stuck in a battle between the two halves to his whole, the part that told him to be grateful that he wasn’t slaughtered or abandoned, and then the half of him that was just a boy who wanted to be given the same respect and treatment as his brothers and sisters.
that part of him, the part that was just a boy longing for affection, was broken. it was shattered and torn so badly throughout the years that even the strongest, most skilled warrior wouldn’t be able to beat it back into shape. until you came along, not as a soldier or skilled warrior, but instead the opposite. a giver.
you burst into his life as the sun would a new day, energetic with lots of love to spare, shooing away the darkness that was residing in the night. after your entrance, which glued back together the fragmented pieces of his sorrowful world, he wondered how he was able to live without you at all, perplexed beyond belief how he managed to survive all those years without his sun to come home to, his light to fend off the darkness.
and so, despite all of those rightfully concerned voices that inhabited the back of his mind, asking him how he could care for a child when he never personally experienced how one should, he smiled.
he smiled a watery, wholly devoted smile that could be mistaken for broken to those looking in, but how could he ever be broken again when he had his own repair-person in his life? besides, you knew. you knew what his quivering lips were trying to convey, knew what his shimmering eyes wanted to tell, because it was you. and you could always look beyond his eyes and straight into the depths of his soul.
so, he did the only thing he was capable of at the moment. he lowered himself to his knees, humbling himself before you, and wrapped the arms that have been bruised and been the bruiser around your waist, allowing his forehead to rest against your stomach that was somehow miraculously carrying a mix of both you and him.
your hands, soft and untainted, the very hands that carefully realigned his world, buried themselves into his tangled, soft curls, gently massaging his scalp as you stood there with the patience of a saint, allowing him the necessary moments he needed to collect himself and pretend he wasn’t crying (he was).
and when he was ready, he looked up into your eyes with an expression that can only be titled complete dedication, and you were more certain than ever that your child would have the best father to roam the seven kingdoms, better than either you or jon ever did.
