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starrayblogs · 5 months

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Not So Rock-Hearted || Floyd (Trolls) x Reader

a/n: yea... yea this is definitely just gonna be a silly fic so don't expect too much! anyway, have a fun read c: likes and reblogs are appreciated hehe

✩ previous chapter

i. Harmony So New

“Ugh… I know we’re all supposed to live in, like, harmony now, but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the glitter…” Barb groans, referring to Debbie being covered in glitter again.

You chuckled, setting your guitar down by the couch. “You got invited to another party?”

Barb hums, reading the envelope before saying a soft ‘huh’. “Actually, this is for you. From former King Peppy, it says, " She says, handing the envelope to you. “Kinda weird if you ask me…”

You furrow your brows, taking it from her and ripping the paper to read the letter. As you read the content of the letter, you gasp. You read over the sentence again with wide eyes before placing a hand over your mouth.

“What? What is it? What did he say?” Barb asks, looking over the paper and attempt to read it upside down.

You pull it away and smile happily at Barb. “You remember my best friend that I told you I thought was taken away?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s alive!” You exclaim, posing with rockstar hands in the air with a grin. Barb stammers before making a quick ‘yeah!’ and striking the same pose.

“That’s great! Where’d they find her?” Barb asks, breaking from the pose to point at your letter on the floor.

“The letter said that I should just go to the location on the postcard to meet her…” You reply, pulling out a postcard for ‘Vacay Island’ from the envelope. “Haven’t seen this place.” You say looking at the picture.

“Think I’ve seen that sunset before… C’mon, I’ll get ya a ride.” Barb punches your shoulder and you smirk.

“Sunsets happen all the time, of course, you’ve seen that sunset before.” You remark.

“What the…” You mumble on the back of the motor, looking at the postcard to the identical sunset with the ‘Wish You Were Here’ even in the air.

“Told ya I’ve seen that sunset before!” Barb yells from in front of you as she drives to the cliff's edge at top speed.

You two cheer as you fly through the air and successfully land on the sand, continuing your drive up to this cantina.

“This where they told you to come?” Barb asks, parking the bike and removing her helmet. You remove yours too and set it on the seat.

“Yup.” You say, but you stop in your place and stare into the entrance of the cantina. You can hear singing, and you can deduce that the pop trolls are doing that.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Barb places a hand on your arm.

“I… What if she doesn’t remember me? Viva, I mean. Like, I- It’s been years since we last saw each other!” You doubt this possible reunion and take a step back. “What if I was left behind in her memory too..?” You mumble, looking down and cupping your hands.

“Hey, hey. Don’t say stuff like that, dude.” Barb reassures you, patting both your arms. “You two were best friends, right? Who’d forget a cool best friend like you? C’mon, have you seen me gettin’ amnesia about you?” She chuckles, and you let out a huffed laugh.

You raise your head with a small smile. “You’re right…”

“Let’s get in and let’s find your friend! I smell nachos, so we should get some too.” Barb lets go of your arms and casually walks forward. You watch her back for a bit before running up to her pace, entering the cantina together.

As you walk through the cantina filled with giant vacaytioners partying in the water, you hear a shriek.

“Viva! Viva, get up here! We’re in the baaaand!” Your eyes soften at the sound of someone else calling her name. Your eyes meet Barb’s before you two hurriedly try to get closer to the stage.

Another pop song plays by the time you reach the stage. There she is.

Your eyes water and your lips tremble, but you smile. “Oh my gosh, Barb, it’s her!” You excitedly point at your childhood best friend before placing your hands over your chest in relief.

“Crazy cool hair she’s got.” Barb gives a nod of approval.

You watch her perform with Queen Poppy and Branch, along with four other trolls you don’t remember seeing at the World Tour. They look related to Branch, considering they have the same skin color. Aside from that, one of them has dark green hair, the other has bright green, one of them has purple hair, and-

“Hey, I like that pink guy’s hair.” Barb comments when you reach the unfamiliar troll with pink hair in your head.

“Yeah, he kinda looks like us…” You comment. Actually, he looks a bit like cotton candy.

“But soft… Soft rock?” Barb turns to you confused.

“Is that a thing?” You raise a brow before you two shrug together. Your eyes go back to Viva as she and the others continue to perform.

When they strike a pose, the music stops, and the other trolls cheer. You watch her hug Queen Poppy, squealing with joy.

“That was so fantastamazing!” She laughs, giving Queen Poppy a tight hug.

Barb nudges you and then nods her head to Viva. You press your lips into a line nervously.

“You got this…” Barb whispers, patting a hand on your arm. “You weren’t left behind, I’m sure of it.”

Your eyes soften, and you smile at Barb. You look back at the stage and inhale deeply before stepping closer to the platform.

“Viva?” You call her name. She hears your voice and looks your way, setting Queen Poppy down.

“Oh my gosh, I have a fan already! This really is my dream life!” Viva squeals, rushing up to you and waving. “Hi, I can totally sign my autograph!”

Your chest tightens a bit when she doesn’t recognize you right away, but you keep up your smile. “Ah… Well, you could put it like that… But, Viva, don’t you remember me?”

“Huh?” She tilts her head with a raised brow. The other trolls on the stage are huddling and whispering to each other in your foresight.

“It’s me, Viva… Viva la amigas..?” You utter the phrase you two would tell each other as kids. She gasps, placing her hands over her mouth. Your eyes brighten, and your lips crack into a smile. She remembers.

“It’s you…” She says, reaching her hands out to you. She echoes your name when you interlock fingers. She squeals and pulls you up to the stage unexpectedly, squeezing you tightly in a hug. “It’s you! I thought I lost you too!”

You grin and hug her back, just as tight. “Viva, I can’t believe you’re alive!”

“I can’t believe you’re here! A-and, you look so..!” She sets you down and waves her hands up and down to refer to your appearance. “I don’t even recognize you!”

You chuckle and flip your hair. The rock trolls really did give you a makeover. Your hair’s more messy, and it’s two-toned. You highlighted your hair with your favorite color to give your natural hair some color. Your fashion is way different from the pop style; you’ve got more wear, tear, and spikes. You wear smokey eyeshadow, eyeliner, and mascara just like Barb taught you. You got a few piercings too. Yet you never really did anything with your vibrant skin, so you always stood out in a crowd of desaturated rock trolls.

“You look so cool!” Viva comments, and you laugh.

“Oh, stop, look at you! You look amazing, I love your hair!” You motion to it, and she giggles.

Queen Poppy approaches from behind Viva. “Uhh, do you know her Viva?” She asks.

“Oh, Poppy!” Viva says, stepping away from Poppy to wrap an arm around you. “This is my childhood best friend! I didn’t think she’d be here!”

“Oh!” The Queen says, surprised. “Well, hello! You already know who I am, but I’m Viva’s sis-”

“Sister? Yeah, I know. Veev told me all about you when we were kids, Queen Poppy.” You smirk.

She blinks and giggles, flicking a wrist at you. “A friend of Viva is a friend of mine! You can call me Poppy.” She says.

You smile and nod your head.

“Anyway, why are you here? I don’t remember sending invitations to the other trolls.” Poppy asks.

“Your father sent me an invite. I came as soon as I read it.” You explain. “Barb’s with me too.” You turn your head to where Barb should be but find her nowhere. Until you hear her rock’n’roll cry somewhere, and you see her munching on nachos.

“We have so much catching up to do! I can’t wait to go back home and talk to you all day again.” Viva says with a smile, but you frown. You take a step away.

“I… Viva, we have different homes now. I don’t live in Pop Village anymore.” You tell her, even motioning to yourself. “It’s not my home.”

“What…” Viva frowns. “But then, where do you stay?”

“I stay in Volcano Rock City. Barb took me in, and she made me one of her own, and I can’t thank her enough for it.” You smile gratefully, but you step forward to take Viva’s hand in yours.

“But how will we make candy necklaces we’ll never finish because we keep eating the candy..?”

“I’ll visit every weekend… I promise we’ll have enough time to catch up.” You reassure her, patting her hands in yours.

She looks at your conjoined hands for a moment before nodding her head. “Okay… I’ll see you every weekend.” She surprises you by pulling you into a hug again. “I’m just so happy to see you again.”

“Me too, amiga. Me too.” You hug her back.

“So… Are we expecting any other reunion?” The troll with dark green hair breaks the moment.

“Yeah, it’s like reunion season.” The one with purple hair adds. You and Viva slowly pull away from the hug.

“There are different kinds of trolls?” The one with bright green hair asks. You let out a small hum, crossing your arms.

“Yeah. There are loads of other trolls.” You comment.

“And you are a..?” The pink hair drags out his sentence for you to answer.

“I’m a rock troll.” You demonstrate by pulling your guitar to the front and playing a sick riff. “You,” you motion the headstock to the rest of them, “are pop trolls.” You smirk, placing your guitar back and introducing yourself.

The others follow. The dark green hair is John Dory, or you can call him JD; the light green hair is Clay; the purple hair is Bruce; and the pink hair is Floyd. Branch follows by introducing that these are his brothers. You hum in thought.

“Sick hair, Floyd. Ruffle it up, and you might just look like me.” You smirk, crossing your arms. His eye widens, and there’s a shy smile on his face.

“Thank you…” Your lashes flutter for a moment, surprised by how gentle his voice is.

“Man! You look so cool, I can’t believe Dad hid another secret from me! Other trolls, other music?” Viva throws her hands in the air before placing them on her hips, catching your attention. “I am so telling him off again later.”

You chuckle. “I wish I could stick around for it.”

Viva giggles and starts to drag you to the bar where Barb is eating nachos, passing by that pink-haired troll with his eye on you.

✩ next chapter

#✩ starraywrites #✩ starraywrites nsrh #✩ starraywrites not so rock hearted #✩ starraywrites trolls band together #✩ starraywrites trolls #trolls #trolls band together #trolls floyd #floyd trolls #trolls floyd x reader #floyd x reader #yes #finally u two meet #i really did mean my a/n #this is gonna be a silly romance fic #so dont expect alot!

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sunnyyangie · 2 months

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choi taeyang x f. reader

cw: cheating (not on theo/i dont condone this and yall shouldnt either), dom!theo, best friends/roommates to lovers, oral (r. rec.), penetration

“you’re home early.” your best friend, taeyang, calls out from your shared living room. he pauses the kdrama he’s been binging recently and puts all of his attention on you.

you sighed heavily as you take your shoes off and make your way over to the boy, flopping down on the couch next to him. “he ‘forgot’.” you start, rage filling your body as you recall the events. “i showed up to dinner, told the host his name for the reservation, they said there was nothing written down for it. then i think, ‘oh, surely he made the reservation under my name then? right?’, nope. i looked stupid walking out of that restaurant. then he doesn’t even answer my calls, but sends a text saying he’s busy and he’ll talk to me later. mind you, it’s our eight month anniversary, why the fuck is he busy? i’m seriously done with him. and i know i’ve said that before but i swear i’ll break up with him when i see him next.”

you finish your rant with a hot face, convinced there was steam coming out of your ears. taeyang has a sad look on his face as he pulls you in for a tight hug. you melt into his arms, grateful he’s always been the person you can count on, especially when dealing with your boyfriend.

taeyang has heard everything pertaining to him. from when he first confessed to you, to the first date, and to when the two of you made it official. you had also told your best friend about all of your (mostly bad) sex stories with your boyfriend, and how he could never make you cum.

taeyang also knows this isn’t the first time your boyfriend has ditched you or just has been a bad person in general. taeyang has tried telling you to leave him after hearing countless stories of him of his horrible behaviors. you just really thought he would change so you never even considered leaving him.

“do you need anything? to feel better?” your friend asks.

you pull away and think. “i just wanna forget about him.”

it was a blur. you’re not sure how you both got to his bedroom, or how your dress was already on the floor. how you were laying on his bed and how he was crawling on top of you.

“let me worship you like how you should be.” taeyang states, placing wet kisses down your neck, chest, and stomach. his fingers hook under your panties to slowly pull them off, tossing them on the floor.

he gently spreads your legs, licking his lips at the glistening sight. suddenly, he latches on to your clit, softly sucking while he massages your thighs. the two of you lock eyes, his deadly stare making you whine. “want your fingers. please.”

he hums against you and you shake in response. taeyang removes his mouth and says, “anything for my princess.” the nickname he had called you ever since you became close, since he was the prince, now giving you a newfound feeling to hearing him say it.

his lips attach to you once again as one of his fingers prods at your wet hole, easily slipping in. a second finger sliding into your warmth when he notices no signs of discomfort.

your sighs turn to soft moans, your hands finding home in his long hair, pulling at him so he can be closer. he switches between flicking his tongue and sucking at your clit while he curls his fingers inside of you.

“i’m close, please don’t stop, tae.” you whine, rocking your hips against his face, lost in the pleasure. taeyang groans against your pussy, the vibrations immediately sending you to your orgasm as you moan loudly.

while you calm down from your climax, taeyang leaves kisses up your body. he then focuses on your neck, sucking at your skin, leaving marks.

“you’re so good to me, taeyang.” you run your hands through his silky hair, softly scratching at his scalp.

he presses a kiss against a newly made hickey before he pulls back to look you in the eyes. “of course, y/nn. you deserve to be treated well, just like a princess.” taeyang places more kisses against the corner of your mouth and against your jawline.

“god, i’ve always loved when you called me that. he would always be so jealous of you and our connection, especially when he heard you call me nicknames.” you admitted. your boyfriend basically hated taeyang. you were very close to your roommate as he was your best friend, so naturally your very toxic boyfriend began to resent him, even moreso when you let taeyang call you princess.

“not surprised. he would barely even look my way whenever he would come over to be with you.”

you can recall the times that you and your boyfriend would be chilling in the living room; how taeyang would come home and the way that your boyfriend would completely ignore him.

“i’m sorry i let it happen. i mean, i really did try reassuring him and trying to get him to like you, but he was just so stubborn.” you explain to him. “i should’ve taken your advice, and, well, all my friends and family told me the same.”

taeyang kisses you, his soft lips feeling like heaven. “don’t apologize, baby. i’m just glad you’re finally done with him.” he kisses you once again. “now you can be all mine.” he flashes you a bright smirk.

“i’d like that a lot.” you blush. “you know, i still need to forget about him, could you continue helping?” you twist his hair in your fingers, biting your lip with a smile.

“of course, my princess, anything. whatever you want.” taeyang drags his fingers down your body to play with your clit, making you squirm.

“can you fuck me?” you look up at your best friend with big doe eyes.

taeyang curses under his breath, “fuck. yeah, baby. i’ll take care of you.” he slips out of his sweatpants and boxers, and you clench around air when your eyes meet his hard cock. knowing that you haven’t even touched him yet and he was already leaking made your cheeks warm.

he grabs a pillow and tells you to lift up, sliding the plush fabric underneath your back. “are you sure you want this?” he worries, sliding on a condom.

“yes, i’m positive.” you smile at him. “please, just help me forget him.”

taeyang nods, “i got you, y/nn.” he kisses you reassuringly. “let me know if you’re ever uncomfortable.”

he leans back to line his cock up with your pussy; the tip just prodding at your lips, teasing your hole. you wiggle your hips and whimper to get him to hurry. taeyang lets out a soft chuckle as he slowly pushes into you, the two of you softly sighing at the pleasure.

taeyang is slow with his movements. making sure you’re able to take him with every short thrust, before he dives a bit deeper each time.

when he presses fully into you, you bite back a moan, pressing a hand over your mouth. your best friend grabs your hand and presses it against the pillow that your head rests on. “wanna hear you moan for me, princess.” taeyang demands, pulling himself almost completely out of you before thrusting back in with a quicker pace.

you whine loudly at the feeling of his dick dragging against your walls and how he nearly hits your sweet spot. you’re certain your entire face is red with how hot it feels because of him. “tae, you feel so good, shit. fuck me so, ah, well.”

your free hand reaches for him and he leans in closer to you as you wrap your arm around his back to let your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

taeyang pants, hot breath on your neck as he leaves marks on you. “all mine.” you arch your back, your chest bumping into his at the way he’s been worshipping you.

he uses his free hand to grab your waist and pin you into the bed. feeling how his cock drags through your cunt, you moan as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“need more, yangie.” you plead. you’re close. butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“i got you, baby. fuck, i wish you could see how you look right now.” his hand presses against your stomach, your nerves on fire. “my pretty girl.” taeyang presses his thumb against your clit while still creating pressure on your belly. you writhe against his touch, this feeling foreign as your soon to be ex never gave you an experience like this before. “god, i can’t get enough of you.”

“i’m all yours now.” you barely manage to tell him through your whines. “you can always have me.”

he grunts, clearly affected by your words, and starts rubbing your clit. you sob out, the heat between your legs feeling hotter than ever. “come for me, princess. and scream my name.” his low voice makes everything inside of your unravel.

your loud moans of his name and a string of curse words fill the room as you reach your peak. feeling the way your pussy clenches around him sets his orgasm off with groans.

as he slows down once you’re both catching your breath, he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, placing a few kisses to calm you down. you softly rub his back, knowing you’ve left countless scratch marks on taeyang.

“i’ll break up with him tomorrow so-“

your sentence is stopped with his lips colliding with yours. “we’ll talk about it in the morning, princess. for now, let’s just clean up and rest.” taeyang reassures you.

you smile at the boy and give him a soft, “okay,” as he gently lifts you up and leads you to the bathroom.

#p1harmony smut #p1harmony imagine #p1harmony x reader #choi taeyang smut #choi theo smut #piwon hard hours #piwon smut #p1harmony hard hours

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berzahoes · 4 months

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you and me | izzy stradlin

summary: no matter what axl told him, izzy could never stop loving you.

an: it’s about time i wrote something for my man izzy <3 not an exact timeline of how things actually went but hey, that’s fanfiction for ya!

warnings: axl rose that should always be a warning

the moment izzy saw you, he swore he was in love. at the time, you were both in high school. he had long hair and beat up shoes that were years old. on the other hand, you were the nicest clothes and shoes while your hair was perfectly cut and brushed. he noticed that you always wore a locket, maybe a family member had given it to you as a present.

you were known as the nicest girl in school. nobody had anything bad to say about you until a certain lead singer saw how in love his friend was with you.

“she’s a prude. why waste your time on her?”

izzy would immediately defend you. “you don’t know her. stop saying shit if you don’t know her.”

it was after your high school graduation that you and izzy began to talk. your family had thrown you a party. as you were helping your mom bring in decorations from her car, izzy just so happened to walk by since your houses were close to each other. you noticed him and waved for him to come over. he couldn’t believe that the most popular girl from high school was about to talk to him.

“hi, jeffrey.” you said in your sweet voice that izzy loved.

“you know my name?” he asked.

“well, yeah. we went to the same elementary school. remember mrs. smith? she wore those big glasses?” you said.

“i remember now and i remember you doing a project about the ocean and you said your favorite animal was a betta fish and some kid made fun of you for liking a fish.” he realized how much information he remembered. was it normal to remember all that? he probably looked like a creep—

“it still is. it’s a pretty fish.”

izzy only nodded.

“do you want to come over later? i’m having a graduation party and i would love for you to come.”

“yeah, thanks. maybe i’ll drop by. i’ve been busy with my band.”

“you’re in a band? that’s cool! what kind of music do you play?”

izzy wished he didn’t even the band, but at the same time, he wanted to share what he loved with you. “it’s just a . . band. you know, rock, we play that.”

“cool, maybe i can come see you guys perform?” you questioned.

“if you don’t mind sitting on a old couch in a garage.” he joked.

“every band starts somewhere, jeff.”

“izzy, i go by izzy.” he was nervous about what you thought about his name. did you like it? did you hate it so much that it made you not want to talk to him ever again?

“well, izzy, i still mean what i said.”

during the party, you introduced izzy to your parents. izzy thought it was a bad idea since most parents took one look at him and instantly thought he looked like trouble. but your parents weren’t that type.

“mom, dad, this is izzy. we went to the same elementary school. he graduated too.” you said as izzy shook hands with your parents.

“nice to meet you, izzy. congratulations on your graduation. any plans for your future?” your mom immediately asked.

“honey, the boy just got out of school. the last thing he wants to do is think about college,” your dad said. “our daughter says she wants to travel for a bit before she goes to college. we told her that as long as she has the money and she’s with someone we trust, she can travel as much as she can.”

then you whisper something into izzy’s ear that had both of your parents wondering. when you finished, izzy chuckled and nodded.

“he let me say this, izzy is actually in a band.” you blurted out.

“a band? that’s great. you know, i was almost in a band once. . .” your dad spoke.

and that was your cue to take izzy someplace else so you ended up in your old treehouse that your dad built. the party was still going on as you and izzy layed on the wooden floor.

“do you want to go to college?” izzy asked.

you sighed. both your parents went to college so they expected you to go as well. but all of you wanted to do was travel. you were born and raised in lafayette, the only time you went out of state was for your cousin’s wedding in georgia that you didn’t remember because you were five years old.

“I don’t know. you know how our teachers always say you have to go to college to get a good job and good money? i don’t think that. i want to go anywhere, everywhere. i don’t need a math degree or read shakespeare,” you explained. “i want to go to los angeles, i want to experience it so bad.”

“then let’s go.” izzy said casually.

“what?” you turned to him.

“let’s go to los angeles, you and me.” he repeated.

“but what about your band?” you asked.

“we were never going to make it out of the garage anyways. maybe los angeles has something for me.”

so after a few weeks, it was decided. you and izzy were going to the city of angels. when you told your parents, they were hesitant, but you reminded them of your dad’s words. they helped you pack and even gave you extra money so you wouldn’t worry.

back at izzy’s house, axl was trying to talk him out of leaving, especially with ‘the prude’ as he nicknamed you. but izzy wasn’t listening to him. he continued packing as axl listed all the reasons why it was a bad idea.

“she’s not going to survive the streets of los angeles, izzy. look at her! she’s going to break and then she’ll come back crying to mommy and daddy.” axl stated.

“she won’t because she’ll have me.” izzy replied.

“then you’re both dead.”

soon, you and izzy were on your way to los angeles. your parents had payed for your plane tickets. when the plane touched down in lax, you smiled at the feeling of being out of indiana.

“you ready?” izzy asked, grabbing your hand.

you nodded. “ready.”

1982

you and izzy now called los angeles your home. it took months of working and saving up money, but you and izzy found a nice small house in a good neighborhood. your parents often called to make sure you were okay. you would sometimes find izzy on the phone with your dad.

when you and izzy arrived to the city of angels, you immediately started looking for a job. a record store owner hired you since the store had just opened and the way only had two employees. it was definitely a dream job for you.

it was a spring break when izzy’s friend, axl, decided to join you and permanently move to los angeles.

“you’re still here?” axl asked you when he saw you walk through the door of your house. he was sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table. he definitely took the phrase ‘make yourself at home’ too literally.

“yes, axl, i’m still here. this is my home.” you clarified as you walked towards your and izzy’s shared room. you dropped your purse on the floor then threw yourself on the bed. you were exhausted from work and all you wanted to do was sleep, but of course when axl rose is in your house, sleep is not an option.

“hey, you hungry?” you heard izzy ask from the doorway.

you could smell mac and cheese. “not right now, izzy. my feet hurt, i have a headache and i have the opening shift tomorrow.” you groaned.

“you have to eat something.” izzy encouraged.

“she doesn’t want to eat, let her starve i guess.” axl took the pot of mac and cheese from izzy’s hands so he could eat it.

“what is he still doing here?” you had enough and got up from your bed.

“don’t even start with me, bitch!” you heard axl yell as izzy closed the door to your bedroom.

“i’ll make him leave. he’s only here because we were rehearsing. we got a few gigs coming up. i promise he’ll be gone soon.” izzy assured you.

“he just gets in my nerves.” you sighed.

“i know. but he’ll be gone soon and you and i can continue where we left off this morning.” he started kissing you. then axl happened.

“you guys fucking in there?” he pounded his fists on the door.

“i’m going to fucking kill him.”

#izzy stradlin #izzy gnr #izzy stradlin x reader #izzy stradlin imagine #izzy stradlin fanfiction #gnr #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #band imagines

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onsunnyside · 1 year

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Here it is !! Flamingo King snippet for part 7, originally from part 6 but moved to the epilogue/bonus chapter 🦩❤️‍🔥 I’ve never loved a fic this much and am so thankful for all of your support !! I hope you all enjoy 🥰🫶

“Hey, sugar, you know you don’t gotta knock.”

“I just thought it would only be fair for tonight.” You shyly hold out a bouquet of flowers, vibrant red and yellow tulips from the best florist in the city. “These are for you. I was thinkin’ we could stop by the bakery after dinner? They brought back your favourite pie and I told them to save us a good one.”

Ari stands there for a moment, looking between you and the flowers. Then, he slaps the door, “awh shit, that was today? I thought—” he groans, “I thought it was tomorrow, Friday right?”

“Today is Friday.”

“Shit.” He curses, “The Den has been a fuckin’ zoo with all the college kids being back in town, my brain is fried and my eyes fuckin’ hurt from staring at a screen all day. Aside from bartending, Curtis has us doing all this paperwork and—” he shoulders sag, “nevermind. No need to be standing out there, come in, baby.”

The light flickers on and you can finally see him properly.

Eyeglasses are on the tip of his nose, his hair is messy and pulled out of his face with a small clip, one you recognize from your small vanity at home. His normally glowy skin is dull and tired, and dark bags make his eyes appear sunken into his face.

You’ve seen him dishevelled, but nothing this exhausted.

He’s still as pretty as ever, but just so terribly tired.

“Give me a few minutes, I’ll get ready quickly.” Then he’s off to his bedroom, abandoning his laptop and coffee table cluttered with dirty dishes, and plenty of papers.

A blanket and pillow that used to occupy his big, comfy bed are on the couch, along with a spare t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His record player is off, no slow rock song filling his trailer like usually.

You hear several slams and bangs before peeking into his bedroom and it’s a mess, far worse than the living room. Clothes skewed over his bed, the laundry bin overflowing and more stacks of empty dishes on his nightstands, although outnumbered by takeout containers.

Ever since you met Ari, he took pride in his spotless home and kept his things organized. He was diligent with weekly cleans, and often reminded you of laundry day so you could do your chores together.

It’s been quite wild for you too from sports season and the rush of people coming in after school or work. Even Andy had to hire new staff just to keep up with the hoard of customers.

Despite being busy, you’ve still made time for each other, going out for late night ice cream, or hanging out in your trailer watching movies on the laptop that you got for a massive discount (from a particular blond cutie with a goatee). But you haven’t been over in a few days, a week at most, and you didn’t know it was this bad.

“Ari.”

“Hold on!” he calls out, digging through his dressers as clothes fall to the floor.

“Ari.”

“Where the fuck are my jeans?” He sweeps through the hangers again, squinting behind his glasses, “Why do I have so many flannels?”

You step behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. Pressing your cheek against his bare back, you can feel his rigid muscles under his skin. Poor baby, he’s so overworked and drained, yet he was still trying to put you first.

“We don’t have to go tonight.”

“We do. You got all dolled up and bought me flowers. You were gonna wine and dine me, and you can’t do that if we’re stuck in this pigsty.”

You squeeze him tighter, refusing to let go. You know he could easily overpower you, throw you on the bed and continue getting ready. But instead, he just sinks into your touch, slumping over and bracing himself on the dresser.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, sugar.”

“Don’t be.”

He always took care of you. Making sure you ate during the day, stayed hydrated and out of the harsh sun. He wouldn’t eat until you took a first bite, and always put snacks and water in your bag before you went to work. Sometimes on his days off, he’d get into your trailer by using the key you gave him and tidy up, wanting you to come home and be able to relax.

Ari has done so much for you.

It takes a few more kisses, some affectionate squeezing and running your hands up and down his chest for him to turn around.

His eyebrows are knotted tight, and a deep solemn frown plays on his lips. You notice his beard is thicker too, a smidge longer than his usual trim.

“I’m so tired—I don’t know what the hell is happening.” He sags forward, slinging his arms over your shoulders and tugging you closer.

You turn your head, kissing his bicep. “Wanna talk about it?”

He shrugs. “It’s work, work and work. That’s all I fuckin’ do now. I love The Den and working with my friends, and it always gets busy this time of year but shit…” he huffs, squeezing his eyes shut. “It was fine before because I had nothin’ else to do but now I have you.” He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours, “You're my girl—how the hell can I give you the attention, time and love that you deserve if I can’t even remember what day it is?”

Your heart aches as you stare into his disappointed blue eyes. Framed by thick lashes, they blink so slowly and sleepily.

“I don’t—I refuse to lose you because of something stupid like this.”

“You’re not going to lose me over one missed date.” You promise, meaning every word.

He chuckles dryly and turns back around to search through the closet again. “It starts like that. Then it’s another and another, and soon we aren’t even seeing each other for days at a time and resort to texts and five minute calls.” He rambles, “And then we’re just two strangers who had something great and you’re gonna get swept off your feet by some douchebag who can’t even remember your favourite colour. While you’re off with him in a big and bright city, I’m gonna be an old man still at The Den, talking about how I lost the girl of my dreams to drunk guys who have a million better things to do—”

“—would you be quiet!”

He looks over his shoulder with wide eyes.

“We aren’t going, so put down those jeans and sit on your bed.” You cross your arms.

Ari doesn’t move, his long fingers still clutching the denim. “Uh—”

“Shush.” You snatch the jeans from his hands and toss it on the dresser, and point to the unmade bed. “Go. Now.”

“Yes ma’am.” He mutters under his breath, cautiously walking around you to his bedroom. With a heavy breath, he plops on the mattress, leaning back with his legs spread wide.

His thin shorts ride up his thick thighs, displaying the built muscle and coarse hair. Quickly glancing over his shameless bulge, you admire his cute tummy and the chain dangling between his pecs.

You step towards him, cupping his bearded face in your hands and squishing his cheeks, making his lips pucker. “You have to take a break or else you’re gonna burn out.”

His eyes close peacefully, your touch silencing all of those pesky worries and looming fears. He was normally very reflective about his thoughts, and kept those stupid, useless, noisy ones to himself.

One of your hands moves to his hair, taking out the clip and running your fingers through the dark strands. “You always take care of me. You’re always so sweet and attentive, the best daddy I could’ve ever asked for.” You say softly and lean down, gently pulling his head back to kiss his cheek, trailing closer to his pink, plump lips. “Now I wanna take care of you.”

A low groan rumbles from his chest, “yeah, baby? You gonna take care of daddy tonight?”

“Mhm.” You hum with a chaste kiss. “Work out all those knots in your back, clear your head…” Your hands fall to his shoulders, tenderly pressing into the tense muscles. “Tonight is all about you, daddy. You deserve it.”

It’s about time we get back to the hot and steamy Flamingo Trailer Park !! The posting date would be earlier but your girl has exams 🥸 I hope you’re all as excited as me 🤩 pls feel free to share your thoughts !!

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lfghughes · 1 year

Text

Half My Fault

a/n: hahaha why am i such a simp for these kind of storylines. Also thank you to the anon who requested this. Peep that John ft though, i had to

You had met Nico years ago through a mutual friend and by that you meant you had dated one of his friends. You were all in the same friend group and over the years you had become close to Nico, he had been someone you had come to trust and he genuinely became one of your friends. When you and your boyfriend ended up splitting it rocked the friend group, many of them choosing him in the break up but Nico didn’t play that game. He continued being friends with him but also you.

Your friendship with each other had only grown after that, now you two were spending a lot of time on your own versus being in a group. Then one night things had escalated slightly to a point where you realized there were shared feelings. What you didn’t want was for Nico to lose his friendship with his friend because of this and he also was conflicted about the whole situation so you both decided it was better to remain as friends.

Even though this was decided everyone still thought there was something more there with the way you two acted. You never crossed the line with one another but you were both affectionate. His hand usually finding your lower back when he was walking through crowds with you. Snuggling on your couch or his while watching a movie. But there were never any more kisses or anything past just that.

It worked but slowly over the past few weeks you had noticed Nico distancing himself a little bit and before one of his games you came to learn why. He had stopped by your place after his practice and invited you to his game later. “By the way, I’ve been seeing someone. She’s going to be there tonight too. It’s her first time but I figured you could kind of hang out and show her around so she doesn’t get too overwhelmed.” You smiled and nodded your head at him but there was a dull pain in your heart from his words.

Nico had gotten you both seats close to the tunnel they came out of and you were trying your best in talking to the girl he had been seeing but it was hard. You knew you had no right to be upset or jealous but you were. The game came and went and you were proud of your best friend for playing a good, so much so that he won first star of the night but you saw the way he looked up at her. The way he winked at her as he walked out to the ice and you were sick to your stomach.

Yet you still held yourself together as you showed her where he would be after the game. You felt like you were out of your body, just wanting to be home so you could cry about all of it but you needed to act normal. When Nico came out, he hugged you and then moved on to her before you all walked outside to the parking lot. His arm remained around her as you watched all the little things he did so naturally. The way he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the way he smiled down at her.

“Hey, we’re all going out for some drinks, want to come? You can ride with us.” Nico told you, turning around to look at you but you shook your head. “It’s kind of late, I’m tired so I’m going to go home.” Before he could try to convince you otherwise you started walking the opposite way back to your car. You were so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even see Marino until you crashed into him. “Oh sorry..” You started and he shook off your apology. “It’s okay.” John told you and then his eyebrows furrowed a little. “Are you not going with Nico? We’re all going out.”

“I don’t feel good, I just need to get home.” A look of concern passed his face as he pointed back at his car. “I can drive you home real quick if you want.” You shook your head at his offer “I have my car it’s fine.” But he was clearly worried about you and wouldn’t drop it. “I can pick you up tomorrow and come get it with you but I don’t think you should drive home if you’re not feeling good. Trust me, I’ll hate if I let you go and something happens.”

You ended up agreeing with him because you were barely thinking already and so maybe this was the safest option. He dropped you off at your place and you immediately curled up on the couch in the comfort of all your blankets. A hour had probably passed since John had dropped you off when you heard the doorbell ring. Checking your camera because it was late you saw that it was just Nico so you went and opened the door. “What are you doing here?” You asked and he looked at you like it was a ridiculous question.

“You told me you were tired but John told me at the bar he drove you home because you weren’t feeling good. He said he was really worried about you. What happened?” Of course John had expressed his concern, why wouldn’t he? “It’s nothing. I just didn’t drink a lot of water.” Nico knew these were all excuses and he showed it clearly on his face. “This is because I’m seeing someone, isn’t?” Silence was all he got from you.

“That’s not fair, you decided we shouldn’t be something more and you can’t get upset when I find someone.” You held up your hand, stopping him from going on. “We decided not me.” Last you had checked this was something he had agreed to. “I agreed with you because it’s what you wanted but I could care less about what he thinks of me because I’m in love with you.” Silence filled the air between you again, shock at his words.

You closed the space off between the two of you and pressed your lips to his, his hands going to the sides of your face and holding you there. The kiss proving everything he just said and so much more. This felt right, more right than you could have imagined. You pulled away slightly, looking at him. “What about the girl from tonight?” You asked and he scratched the back of his head. “The minute John said something was wrong I went back to her and broke things off. She’s not you.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine

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ninja-go-to-therapy · 5 months

Text

The Next Step

Happy four years of Damagemas!

Summary: Cole just wants to get better. But it's easier said than done.

Trigger Warnings: mentioned attempted suicide, pet whump, dehumanization, past abuse, trauma, stockholm syndrome

820 words

Against all odds, time kept moving forward. Even when he… when Cole felt like it never would again. Like time would stop, and everything was stagnant forever.

Somehow, it never stayed like that. He was never alone for long.

The others didn’t trust him not to try and throw himself off the roof again, he guessed. Not that he could blame them. Sometimes he found himself really considering it.

It was all just so much. It had been a month since he’d begun to remember himself. A month since he’d finally admitted that he wanted to get better. He did. He really did.

But god, it was so hard. How was he supposed to just exist for himself again when the last year had taught him just the opposite? He’d been forced to live for one thing, and it certainly hadn’t been for himself.

Learning had been hard. But the unlearning would be so much worse.

Because now he had an audience. He had people who could see what he had become. His family, who looked at him like he was fragile enough to shatter at any second. Not that they were wrong.

He’d used to be solid rock. Strong and sure of himself. But now he was practically untethered, never farther from the source of himself.

How was he supposed to get back? How was he supposed to get them to stop looking at him with such deep pity?

“Cole?”

What if he couldn’t be fixed? What if Master had been right, what if he really was meant to be nothing more than a—

“Cole.” Zane’s voice was firm this time, demanding enough attention for Cole to finally snap out of his quickly spiraling thoughts.

“Huh?” He managed, staring back at his brother, disoriented.

“Your heartbeat is spiking,” he informed, gentler now. “Would you like to try some of those breathing exercises again? Perhaps it would help to calm you down.” He reached out, moving to put a hand on top of his own.

Cole snatched his hand away. “No,” he said, crossing his arms like a barrier, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Of all the questions that would make him snap, that shouldn’t have been one. And yet…

“Am I s—? Yes, Zane, I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be fine? I remember everything now, don’t I?”

“Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you won’t be experiencing some negative—”

“Negative? No, no, everything is just perfect.” He said, rising in volume. “I’m home. I’ve been home for nearly three months, and I’m—” his voice cracked. “I’m still…” he couldn’t do this. Who was he kidding? “I’m still not better,” he mumbled, giving up on a fit. Of course he wasn’t going to get better. He’d been reshaped from the inside out. Of course he could never be put back to how he was supposed to be.

“Nothing is working,” he admitted, a new wave of despair propelling him to stand abruptly and begin to pace around the coffee table they’d settled in front of. “It’s been months, Zane, and I’m still — still like this. What’s the point? Nothing is working. Nothing — nothing is working,” he cried, angrily wiping tears away. “Why can’t I just get better?”

Zane slowly rose to meet him, taking his shaking hands. “Cole,” he said softly, “you’re being too hard on yourself. What you went through was… deeply traumatic. But the progress you’ve made since we found you has been exceptional. Recovering your repressed memories was no easy task. You’ve been improving far quicker than anyone could have even predicted.”

It didn’t feel true in the slightest, but he knew Zane was right. “But what if I—” he struggled, pulling away. “What if I’m never the same as I… used to be?”

Zane considered him for a moment. “Maybe you won’t be.” He sat back on the couch, beckoning Cole to follow. “When I first discovered who I truly was,” he began, “and I regained my memories of my father… it was hard. I knew I would never again be the person my memories told me I had once been.”

He put his head in his hands, miserable. “It’s not the same thing.”

“It is not,” he amended. “But what I am trying to say is that… our experiences shape us. But they do not have to define us.”

He slowly looked up, vision blurred with tears. “But what if this does?” He croaked, “What if I — what if I can’t ever move past this?”

“I believe you will. Not only are you stronger than you’re giving yourself credit for, but… you are not facing this alone, brother. We will be with you every step of the way.”

He didn’t know how to say that that was part of the problem.

At that moment, Kai poked his head in. “Uh, hey guys? The lawyer’s here.” The pit in his chest sank deeper than ever. Shit.

#merry whumpmas #damage #the damage tree #kat writes #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago #pet whump #dehumanization #trauma #stockholm syndrome #ptsd #attempted suicide tw #dead dove: do not eat #whump #whumpblr #cole ninjago #zane ninjago #angst #hurt/comfort

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everythingeverywheresblog · 1 year

Text

Stars and Migraines - Chapter seven

Chapter seven

Sydney's POV

No. Can you come to my hotel room?

That’s how it started. A supposedly simple question, that lead me here. Outside Daniel Ricciardo’s hotel room. In the middle of the night. Carrying a box of pastries from a twenty-four-hour patisserie Daniel told me about in the few, short texts that followed his invite. I had to look for his pastry shop for twenty minutes, wondering in the hidden Italian alleys like a mad man—hoping not to get killed.

“You’re really creepy right now.”

Daniel’s voice shocks me out of my trance, making me almost drop the orange box. I’ve been so lost in my thoughts and with my head low, staring at my phone’s screen, I didn’t even hear him open the door and literally stand in front of me.

“You have that blank stare going on and you’re just standing there looking but…not looking.” I roll my eyes and he lets me in the room—suite would be most appropriate description. The door I walk in from faces a floor-to-ceiling window with an amazing view of the city’s lights. I stride over to it slowly, taking in the all the beauty.

“Where should I put this?” I ask, my back facing him and my hand shaking the pastry box.

“Just come sit on the couch.”

I frown. My head turns to my left and—indeed, there’s a large, white couch in this hotel room with a very tired-looking, pajama-wearing Daniel sprawled on it. I walk towards it and sit on the very edge across from him, placing the pastries in the middle.

Daniel doesn’t even think about it twice, grabbing it the moment I put it down, placing it on his lap and rummaging it like a man starved.

“Aren’t you on, like, a diet?” He doesn’t answer. He just shrugs and continues eating on what I’ve brought.

There are a few moments of silence before either of us speak up again, giving me the opportunity to snoop around with my eyes. His room is squeaky-clean. Nothing’s touched. Everything is neatly put in its place and it’s as if no one has ever stayed here.

“How’s you dad?”

My head snaps to Daniel.

“What?”

“Your dad. I saw the messages your mom sent you.” He says it so casually, I almost believe he means something completely different.

“You went through my phone? What the hell Daniel?”

His brows shoot up and for the first time since I’ve started working with him… he smiles. “Well, shit. If reading your texts from your unlocked phone would get me on first name basis, I’d done it sooner.”

I might not be able to see myself right now, but I’m pretty sure my face is red with anger, yet Daniel breaks into a fit of giggles.

“Oh come on, Syd. You wouldn’t tell me what happened to you so I had to find out somehow.”

“And—wait, when did you even take my phone?”

“You left it in my driver’s room right before the race begun.”

“You’re unbelievable.” He laughs. It’s so genuine and light, it makes me laugh. And for a moment, we’re laughing together. Then I stop, because he went through my phone.

“No but seriously. How is he?”

I take a deep breath. It’s not easy talking about it. My dad’s always been the strong one, the healthy one. The rock. And now…

“He’s…fine, I guess. He got home alright and now he’s got to be careful and stuff…” Daniel nods, placing the pastries on the table and stretching out his legs in front of him. His stare alls heavy on me and I’m aware that he’s listening to me right now. Really listening.

That makes me nervous.

“Uh, and, yeah…It’s just, a lot, I guess. But I’m good. I’m going to see them all soon so…”

“You’ve got any siblings?”

A smile erupts on my face. “Yes, a younger brother; Ayrton.”

“Like Senna?” The shock in his voice forces a chuckle out of me, and I nod. “Wow, your dad really is a McLaren fan.”

“Yeah…The whole family is, really. Because of dad, mostly, but we’ve all been repping the team since, ever, basically.”

Daniel smiles for a second before his eyes drop to his lap. “Look, I…ughm.” His hand is stuck at the back of his head, scratching the skin. His leg is slightly bouncing up and down and I realize.

Daniel Ricciardo is nervous.

The man who arrived to the paddock riding a horse and wore a bejeweled crop-top for a whole day, is actually nervous.

“I’m really sorry for the way I’ve been treating you.”

He doesn’t look at me, but for some reason I can tell he’s being honest. “It’s fin—”

“No, it definitely is not, but I swear it’s not about you. I—this season’s been…”

“Good, right?”

“Yes, very good.” His eyes snap to mine. My breath gets caught in my throat. “Too good.” He looks so vulnerable, so weak. He stops talking completely. He stays silent but his eyes…

It’s like he wants me to figure it out on my own. He’s expecting me to connect the dots and figure out that,

“You’re scared?” I whisper.

The lights are dimmed low.

There is no sound coming from anywhere in or out of the room.

No open window, no forgotten TV series playing in the background.

It’s just him and I when he closes his eyes and, just, nods.

“Terrified.”

I tuck my legs under me and, instinctively drag my hand to be closer to him.

“Why?”

We’re both whispering. And we keep whispering, afraid to pop the bubble we’re in. The one where he’s not too uptight and rude. The one where I’m not working for him.

“What if I fuck it up, Syd?”

The question shocks my body into an upright position. “You? Daniel, I’m so sorry, but are you insane? I get it, I do, I swear but—it’s you. You can’t mess it up. You won with a broken car. You won with thee fourth fastest car. You survived at a team with Max, come on. And now you’re—I mean, you’re doing wonders.”

I don’t know where all of that came from and my cheeks are burning with embarrassment at how quickly I jumped to his defense. But his head drops back with a smile so, I think it’s kind of worth it.

“You didn’t swear.” He says cheekily. "You said mess it up not fuck it up, like I did."

“Yes I did.” No, no I didn’t.

“You don’t swear, do you?”

“Of course I do, don’t be silly.”

He laughs. “Silly.”

We stay quiet again. “You were new, and easier to put all of my frustration on. I’m sorry.” He explains.

“It’s okay.”

He lets out a long sigh. His eyes are closed and for a second, I think he’s fallen asleep. “Say fuck.”

A laugh bursts out of me and he joins shortly after.

And we stay up until four, eating the pastries and cursing.

#fanfiction #f1 imagine #my fic #fanfic #daniel ricciardo x oc #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo #dr3 #f1 fanfic

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bridgyrose · 11 months

Note

More Rose of a Feather AU if you have the time/desire, maybe?

Ruby let out a sigh as she sunk down into the apartment couch, her eyes wandering over to her teammates as they argued what kind of music to play for the night. It was nights like this that she missed the dorms at Beacon, not having to worry about anything besides school work and passing classes, the most dangerous mission they’d go on was a training mission with a professional huntsmen on standby in case anything went wrong… hell, she even missed the Vytal Festival and meeting the students from the other academies. Everything seemed easier then, and even her path to being a huntress seemed more clear. Now, everything felt like there was a cloud of uncertainty all around. Ozpin using her and her team, secrets hiding everywhere, and any time anything seemed to make sense, there was always something else that seemed to come out of hiding to blind side everyone.

“We are not listening to that ear-drum blowing sound you call music!” Weiss half yelled angrily. “What we really need is something calming.”

Yang rolled her eyes. “Metal isnt just sound, its art! Just because its not that snooze fest you listen to–”

“Jazz isnt a snooze fest!”

“Then why dont we put it to a vote?” Blake asked. “Yang wants metal, you want Jazz, I… dont particularly care for either so I’m going to keep myself out of this… so all that leaves is Ruby.”

Ruby perked up at the sound of her name as she was pulled out of her thoughts, head still spinning with questions that she needed answered. “Yeah?”

Blake smiled at her. “Rock or jazz?”

“Uh… jazz,” Ruby answered.

Weiss smirked and quickly started pulling up a playlist on her scroll while Yang pouted. “Told you she’d be on my side.”

Ruby shook her head and stood up, making her way to the door to get outside to clear her mind. She stopped when she felt Yang’s hand on her shoulder, her body practically freezing up. “I’m fine Yang.”

“Are you?” Yang asked. “Ever since you spoke to Ozpin, you’ve been quiet.”

“Its nothing. I just need a little fresh air to relax. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure.”

Ruby nodded and pulled away from Yang and stepped outside the apartment, leaning against the railing as she looked out towards the city. She caught the sound of a bird flying overhead and a heavy sigh left her lips. “Mom, quit following me.”

A sharp *thud* came from next to her as Raven dropped onto the pathway. “I promised your mom I would keep an eye on you.”

“Are… are you ever going to tell me what happened to her?”

“I already told you she’s dead-”

“Not what you’ve already told me, but what really happened.” Ruby looked at Raven, glaring at her. “I know you know more than what you keep telling me. So why not just tell me what you know and leave?”

Raven looked away, letting sadness slip through the cracks of the mask she wore to hide how she truly felt. “Because I promised her that I would keep you out of this. And as I’ve watched you grow over the years, I’ve found that you’re a lot like her. And I dont need you going down the same path.”

“Then why did you leave?! You left us alone. Yang and I only had Dad and Qrow to help us, and it turns out that you’ve been watching at a distance, trying not to get close to us! And here you are only ever talking to me instead of talking to Yang! She’s your daughter too!”

Raven winced and sighed. “Because I dont want her to end up like I did. Like you are. Get your answers from Ozpin, and then leave him. The war he’s dragging you into is only going to end one way.”

Ruby frowned as she watched Raven slice her sword into the air and leave through a portal that she created, waiting until the portal closed before leaning over the railing of the walkway. Of course Raven wouldnt give her a straight answer over anything, always cryptic as ever and avoiding what was really going on.

“Ruby?” Yang asked as she walked out. “Is everything okay?”

Ruby nodded and put up a fake smile as she turned to face Yang. “Everything’s fine. I-I’m going to head to bed.”

“Are you sure? Its still early in the night-”

“And we have a long day tomorrow with Ozpin. I… I want to make sure I’m ready for anything he has to tell us.”

“He’s just planning on telling us what’s going on with that missing girl, Spring, right? How bad could that be?”

Ruby paused in her step as she opened the door into the apartment and sighed. “I… I’m starting to think there’s more to it than just that. Something that caused Raven to run.”

#rwby #ruby rose #rwby ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #raven branwen #rose of a feather #rose of a feather au #angsty drabbles #drabbles

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downwiththemoralmajority · 2 years

Text

Hitching a ride

Word count: 2742

Billie Joe Armstrong x OC

Warnings: live without warning!

Somewhere in California, back in 1994. It was my first concert and I’ve never been so excited. I was 18 years at that point and still lived at my parents home. It always was difficult to drive somewhere because I haven’t had a car yet nor a driver’s license. Thankfully I’ve had a lot of friends who were able to drive and my friend picked me up to get to the concert.

We’ve had a good evening and been sweating the whole time. It felt nice to get some fresh air after the concert. I had to say goodbye to my friend and that was the biggest mistake (or either the best decision) I’ve ever made in my life. She actually wanted to take me home but I maintained that I would take the bus. So far, so good. After saying goodbye I headed to the next call box to call my mother. Full of excitement I told her that I’ve never experienced such an amazing concert and that I’m fine, so she didn’t have to worry.

Right after I hung up someone pushed me to the side and immediately ran away. I didn't know what happened until I saw that a random guy stole my purse with all my money which was left to pay the bus ticket. One hour away from my house I stood there alone without any money. My eyes were suddenly filled with tears and started to burn. I swore to myself that I won’t cry in public. So I denied myself crying and breathed in. I sat down and stared down to the floor until someone touched my shoulder. Embarrassed, I looked up and recognized someone familiar. A blonde guy with a nose ring, crooked teeth and dirty clothes. This must’ve been Billie, the singer of the band I saw earlier. I didn’t even realize that their van was in front of the call box. Hasn’t he seen the guy who stole my purse? Apparently not.

„Are you okay?“, he asked. I was in trance so I didn’t notice that he talked to me. I looked into his green (and obviously red) eyes and caught a glimpse of empathy. He smiled and asked me again if I’m fine.

I tried to not sound whiny but promptly bursted into tears. I couldn’t say any word because I started to sob. Carefully he embraced me and I continued to sob but now harder than ever. It was so embarrassing.

„Don’t say anything“, he comforted me, „it’s okay. Whatever has happened to you, you’ll be better soon... Would you have a joint to come down?“

He was good at comforting because it was the funniest way ever to console someone. I stopped crying and smiled a bit. Gently he caressed my arm and helped me up. He leered and I honestly was smitten by his charm. „I knew it. Nobody can resist a joint.“, he joked. „Come into our van and tell me what’s going on.“ This would’ve been the part where I had to say no. It‘s actually pretty dangerous to go into a strangers van just to talk, I thought to myself. But he was the singer of a punk rock band so what should happen? I was so taken with him, more than I could ever imagine. And he obviously felt the same way because he suddenly grabbed my hand and led me to the van.

At one fell swoop he opened the rusty door and all I could see was the dirtiest interior a van could have. It smelled like beer, weed and other substances. The small table in the middle of the van was littered with papes, cigarette butts and transparent bags which was obviously used for something. And I couldn’t care less. Funnily it felt like home to me. I always loved the smell of weed. Since I was 15 I’ve been smoking joints. So it’s nothing new to me and what would I expect from a punk band in the mid nineties? Grouches who just sit on their couches and had fucked up kids? No, this guy with whom I hung up is the fucked up kid. And he deserved to have fun and kick ass. And I totally understood him.

„Sorry for the mess but our room service hasn’t been here yet. They’re always so fucking busy, you know?“

He was probably the funniest person I’ve ever met.

„How dare they!“, I responded, trying to sound as funny as Billie. He pretended that he’s actually a bit mad about it, stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head in disbelief. Immediately bursted into laughter and I had to laugh as well. He punched my arm like I’m one of his friends and looked at me with his sweetest and apparently most stoned smile. He grabbed a bag with smoking utensils and started to roll a joint for us two, lighted it up and passed it to me. I haven’t been smoking joints in a while because I was so focused on getting my homework done before I graduate this summer. It was almost there.

„Sit down and tell me about the issue. Did we play so bad that it made you cry? Yeah, we’ve had a lot of sound problems and Mike has been higher than me and Tré set his drums on fire and I almost burnt my fucking ass. I wanted to..“, I interrupted him with a laugh. „It’s all right. It wasn’t your fault. It was just a random guy who stole my purse after I called my mom on the phone and said that everything’s fine. Now I don’t have any money and can’t buy a bus ticket.“ My smile faded again. Billie narrowed his eyes. „What a fucking motherfucker! If I catch this guy I would punch the shit out of him.“, he said angrily. „He’s gone. You wouldn’t catch him anymore. Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m gonna find a way to drive home.“, I lied. It was hopeless.

Billie smirked: „What if we could drive you home? I mean, I don’t know how far away your home is from here but fuck, someone hurt you and now I need to help you.“

I started to laugh. He was high as fuck and the other band members were probably stoned as well. How could they still drive? But in my heart of hearts I wanted them to bring me back home. I didn’t want to sleep at the bus station or dodge the fare. My parents would kill me. So I agreed. He noticed that I couldn’t believe it and clarified it:„You look worried. No, we won’t drive anymore. That’s up to our roadie. He can still drive. He doesn’t drink anymore, he was an AA.“ I was assailed by a feeling of relief and I nodded.

„Move closer.“, he summoned me. Deeply, he inhaled his joint, pulled my neck and blew the smoke in my mouth. That was the point. Without exhaling I dared to kiss him and he kissed me back. The smoke leaked out of our mouths and filled the room with special vibes. I moved closer and gave myself up to him. He tasted so good. No, he actually tasted like beer, weed and sweat. But after a concert everyone smells gross and probably I smelled disgusting too.

He moved and lay above me. I noticed something between my legs and knew that he was enjoying it. After a lot of kisses he looked down on me and asked quietly: „Tell me your name.“ He smiled and it made my heart melt. Do I really have a crush on him? I didn’t even know him. I just saw him playing at their concert and I haven’t even known this band before. I normally had a thing for Led Zeppelin or Deep Purple. I couldn’t believe I was making out with a punk rocker.

Smiling, I replied: „My name’s Lauren. I'm 18 years old and I’m originally from Germany.“ He actually just wanted to know my name and it was probably the weed which made talkative. His eyes opened as if he'd never seen a German before. But not in a strange way. He looked surprised. „Fuck, I didn’t notice that you’re German. Why don’t you wear a dirndl?“, he laughed. I didn’t even feel offended by his question. It’s all-American to think that every German wears a dirndl or leather pants, drinks beer and eats bretzels. Sarcastically, I replied: „Well, I changed the clothes before the concert. I thought it was inappropriate to wear such a dress at a punk rock concert. But I’ve got a lot of dirndl at home. You wanna see? I like the pink one with glitter the most.“ I tried to look serious but couldn’t refrain from laughter. „You’re quick at repartee. This turns me on.“ He continued to smooch. His hands were all over my body when we’re suddenly interrupted by a bang. „I think we have some guests.“, he said disappointedly. „Fuuuck, I can’t open the door. Someone locked the door. Let me in and leave me some pot.“, a guy, obviously one of the band members, screamed in front of the door. Bustling, he pulled the door and was still not able to open it. Apparently, he was drunk. „TRÉ you cockhead! PUSH the door! Don’t pull.“, Billie screamed. Tré pushed the door and fell into the van. He babbled: „I’m totally drunk!“ He stood up and took a look at us. „Oh hell, who’s that groupie?“, he asked, confused. I sarcastically answered: „Hey sweetheart, my name is Candy. Do you want some candy? I have a lot of it in my pants.“ Tré, as drunk as he was, didn’t get what I meant. He straightened up, moved closer to me and shook my hand: „Hi Candy. I actually don’t want candy. I just want some HERBS!“ He screamed as he said the last word and I winced. He continued: „Sorry Candy, I almost forgot my name. My name is Tré, Tré Cool because I’m tré cool.“ He spoke in a French accent. I kind of like him. His green hair is smutty and sweaty just like his face and clothes. But his smile was catching. The other drunk band member entered the van. He greeted me: „Hello, I’m Mike.“ He pretended to fuck Tré from behind and lay down on the other couch. To me he seemed a bit calmer than Billie and Tré but he was just totally drunk and tired. He immediately began to sleep as he lay down. „Hella nice, I don’t even have to roll a joint.“, Tré said as he found the joint we’ve been smoking before starting to make out. He took some puffs and lay down on the couch where Mike slept. „Good Night, my fellows! Tré is drunk and sleepy and stoned and wants to take a nap.“, he babbled. „Tré, wait! Where is Eddie? When will he come back?“, Billie needed an answer because he still wants his roadie to drive me home. He smoked a lot of weed but was still able to keep things in mind. Sleepy, Tré opened his eyes and replied: „10 or 20 minutes. He’s still talking to the hosts. Good night, Billie. Good night, Candy.“ I was so mean. He still didn’t know my real name. It didn’t matter because I wouldn't see those guys again, I thought. 10 to 20 minutes. I should’ve been home actually. It would be a one hour drive if I took the bus. The roadie should hurry because my parents would still kill me.

Billie noticed my anxiety. He stood up and said: „Stay here, Lauren. I will have a look. I’ll be back soon. Don’t be afraid. These guys are nice and they’re sleeping at the moment. They won’t hurt you.“ I believed him and let him go. After he left the van I took a look at the furniture. There were two couches on each side covered with some blankets and pillows, a small wooden table in the middle of the room, Venetian blinds to cover the tiny windows. The van was full of stickers of different bands and organisations. It was actually really dirty and smelly in here but the more you sat here the more you got used to it. I felt comfortable and it was probably because of Billie. The guy I had a crush on. After 5 minutes of waiting I heard noises from outside. It was Billie and another guy. I hoped it was the roadie. Billie entered the van again and wanted to know: „Lauren, I need to know where you live. I asked Eddie if he could bring you back home and he’s gonna do it.“ I almost cried. I jumped up and hugged and kissed Billie because I was so relieved. He kissed me back. With tears in my eyes, I told him where I live and gave him a lot of kisses. „Thank you, Billie. Thank you so much. That means so much to me. Thanks.“ I couldn’t stop saying thank you. Passionately, he kissed me and headed to Eddie.

The roadie sat down on the front seat and started the van. Billie entered the van again and closed the door.

We drove down the slip road and reached the street.

„It will take us 30 min to drive you home. So your parents won’t even notice that you’ve been away longer.“, Billie mentioned and I lay in his arms again.

We laid on the couch for a long time without saying anything. It was just Billie and me. I felt comfy and safe in his arms and I didn’t want to miss a single thing.

He caressed my head and started talking again: „What are you doing when you’re not at our concerts? How long have you been living here? Teach me some German.“ „Well, I go to school but I will graduate in one month. I’ve been living here in the US for 12 years. We usually speak German at home because my dad doesn’t like the English language. It wasn’t that easy for me to get used to it because I’ve barely spoken English at home but school helped me a lot. Hm, I’m good at drawing, writing and playing guitar. I want to be a journalist. I’ve taken some writing classes in school and I wrote a lot of articles for the school‘s magazine. After graduating I’m gonna leave the States and go back to Germany, to the roots. I want to learn more about the culture and the people. And there I want to study journalism. I haven’t decided yet if I’m gonna take German or bilingual classes. Someday I want to work for a music magazine, maybe The Rolling Stone. I don’t know when I will come back to the US again. I will finish my studies in Germany at least. It could be 5 years or 10 years. I don’t know. Anyway, I really like the word Schnuckiputz. Can you pronounce it? It literally means cutiepie. Keep it in mind. I would like to teach you some German but I’m kinda tired at the moment. I just want to be here with you and cuddle.“

He held me closer and kissed my forehead. He replied: „You’re gonna be successful. You will rock your studies and be the most brilliant writer.“ He sounded sad.

I almost fell asleep but suddenly the van stopped. I was at home. The roadie parked at the end of the street so we wouldn’t wake up my parents. It was near the bus station. I just had to walk for a few minutes. Sadly, I stood up and looked at Billie. He seemed very tired and so was I.

„Thank you Billie. That was so nice of you and your Roadie to bring me home. You literally saved my life.“, I said quietly so it wouldn’t wake the other guys.

„Don’t mention it. I would do it again any time, Schnuckiputz.“, he whispered. These were the last words I’ve heard from him. He gave me a last kiss. Passionately. With all of his heart. I felt like he didn’t want me to leave him. It was the hardest goodbye. I left the van and went home.

I will miss you, he thought.

#bja #billie joe armstrong #billie joe armstrong fanfic #green day fanfic

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emilemily · 2 years

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How to express thoughts and feelings when you don’t know exactly what you’re thinking or feeling, part 5000

1. I’m terrified. Everything in my world is changing and I feel utterly powerless over the changes. The rent prices surging was out of my control. I could’ve never known that was going to happen when I was working on my life here in Florida.

2. I’m conflicted. Starting over in Asheville is the single greatest decision I have ever made because 1. It’ll get me out of Florida where I don’t fit in and 2. I will be able to forge a new path that isn’t tinged with all the mistakes I have made in this state.

3. I’m anxious. Time and time again I have been left feeling shell shocked, picking up the pieces and hurriedly evacuating the situation. This time the transition period is long, so I have all the time in the world to overthink it all. I thrive in chaos, in short timeframes, in situations where there is little time to think because my childhood consisted of much of that. It’s what I know and what I’m comfortable with. As an adult, it’s best not to live your life that way so I’m adapting.

4. I’m feeling inadequate. There is a huge trend lately with even the most basic entry level office jobs requiring a bachelors degree. I know in my heart of hearts that I’ll find the opportunity for me and will work hard to exceed expectations. I will be a success somewhere. But it will rely on someone giving me a chance despite my lackluster educational background. I’ll have to fight for it. Willing to do that, but feeling a little insecure about what I lack. I don’t want to be a “hopefully this works out” I want to be a “she is the perfect fit”

5. I’m feeling abandoned. All of my friendships are crumbling into dust and doing so right after putting boundaries in place to protect my mental health. I’ve always tried really hard to be a rock for my friends, to give them advice from my heart. In some ways this has turned me into a doormat who is only contacted when something is wrong or advice is being sought out. My friends have seemingly forgotten what it means to be a friend in return, how to gauge if something is too heavy to place upon me with my own struggles in mind.

It has reached the point where nobody asks me about my world or what I’m going through, about the moving process or planning. About how I truly feel and if I need to talk. My closest friend here has initiated contact multiple times the last two months only to vent about her summer fling, leaving me on read as soon as she feels better but never asking about how I’m doing.

I told her how that made me feel the other night and she told me I was making her cry, that I make it too difficult to talk to me about my life because I’m closed off and hard to get through to.. I asked her to please read back two months and find where she’s even tried. She stopped replying. I’m not just a stepping stone to walk on towards feeling better, or to get validation for how you feel. I’m a human being. I think that friendship is over, because she doesn’t do confrontation and will let a friendship die before she will have a tough conversation. I’ve known this about her for 6 years and it still hurts because I let it continue.

I worked so hard to help her the last few months. Picked her up and brought her into my home when she was tweaking out and got kicked out of her moms. Fed her and held her on the couch because I could almost physically feel her pain and knew she needed comfort. I called 20 different rehabs to find one that would take her insurance and I physically took her there. I was her emergency contact. I sent her money for their weekly trips to the grocery store. I reassured her that she is capable of everything and more. I answered every call. I made the medical decisions on her behalf about which facility to do PHP in. I did everything in my power to help her. She’s still sober and I’m so proud of her.

Don’t misunderstand. I’m not stating all of that for a pat on the back. I don’t expect to be worshipped as a hero for being a good friend, because I’ll always support a friend trying to get help and get better, I will always make time to help with that. I was glad to do that. But now I cry alone and only get texts about the flavor of the week. She’s so busy texting me about guy x y and z that she doesn’t think to ask me what I have going on. When I try to bring up something I’m thinking or feeling she quickly draws the conversation back to herself or to another guy. It’s extremely obvious that she has narcissistic tendencies and isn’t capable of giving me the friendship I need, but she is capable of taking my emotions, time, and energy which I repeatedly and willingly give her expecting different results. It’s stupid.

I feel like I am always so incredibly drawn to narcissistic people somehow. I work so hard to help them and I genuinely love them as people because I see the best in them. This has been a repetitive theme in my life for years upon years. It’s like I just want to help them so bad, I want to be their best friend. The person they can count on. I want to earn their favor. I want to earn that treatment that I crave so deeply. I want to feel loved and appreciated and cared for in return, but I never quite get there.

My therapist says that I actively seek out people who are similar to my parents in their narcissistic tendencies. She says that is a behavior that will lessen with time, and with continued self work. The little girl in me who needed more has been a self fulfilling prophecy thus far. I want to change that.

6. I’m feeling alone. Not the same as abandoned, but it is a little planet with similar flora and creatures. I feel alone because the people I thought I would always have are no longer here. The people I could pour my heart out to. The people who I thought loved me unconditionally. I was never perfect nor were they, but as long as we never gave up on each other and always met in the middle, I thought that anything could be mended.

7. I’m feeling delayed shock because in fact, not everything can be mended. People can cut you off randomly with no real reasoning provided. Even people you love with all your heart. Even people you thought you’d never lose. The truth is, nobody has to tell you why. All they have to do is either ghost you or tell you they’re done with you. In the past, I would’ve continued to push it and make them talk to me. I would’ve persisted and taken further steps into space where I wasn’t wanted.

Now I realize that once that boundary is put in place, it is not my place to challenge it, it is not my place to demand that they explain themselves, and it is absolutely not my place to trample over it with no regard. “Don’t make them tell you they don’t want you twice”

Goes for friendships and lovers, and for situations that provided closure as well as situations that did not. Depending on the length of the connection and the way in which it ended, it can take varying amounts of time to stop the wound from gushing blood. Some days the healing is akin to a leaky kitchen faucet, some days it is a fucking hurricane of tears and anger and disbelief. Sometimes weeks will pass without incident, and suddenly you’ll have multiple days in a row where you’d rather flush yourself down the worlds largest toilet than even begin to accept that this person is gone from your life and will never return

Lately the hurricane has been raging on. Just have to hang tight and get through it. There is sunshine on the other side.

8. I’m feeling sleep deprived. I haven’t been sleeping well. Today I felt dizzy, nauseas, and like a whole mess. As the time to wind down for bed approaches, I rebel against it. Sleep is a visitor knocking, and I am a homeowner crawling on all fours to each window and slowly closing all the blinds and curtains in such a way that said visitor doesn’t notice, with the goal that they give up and go back where they came from.

Tonight I may take something strong and knock myself out cuz for the love of god I need it.

9. Craving. I want to drink more than I’ve ever wanted to drink in my entire life. I want to self sabotage. I want to get a mountain of cocaine, numerous oxy, and a bottle of crown royal and lose myself. Part of me wants to lose it so bad that maybe I won’t come back. But rationally, I know that these thoughts stem from wanting to gain control back by making the decision to be a raving lunatic. To throw it all away because I said so. It’s stupid, but it’s in there. I’ll continue to try and stay centered.

That’s really about it. Peace out, Girl Scout.

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johnbazley · 5 months

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On The Impossible Past, On The Miserable Future

The Menzingers, misery, and forward momentum

“I’m just freaking out, yeah, I’ll be fine.”

- The Menzingers, “The Obituaries”

I’m a wreck lately. My bank account is back to double-digits. Unemployment won’t call me back for an update on the two months of backpay I’m supposedly entitled to but haven’t received a cent of. I tell my girlfriend I’m going to stop drinking for a while because I think it’s affecting my sleep, but really, I want to stop because I’m not sure I can anymore. A week or so ago, I got a parking ticket in Asbury. I stopped by the liquor store for three minutes to buy a four-dollar wine bottle opener and came back to a ticket in my windshield wiper because I didn’t put two dollars in the parking meter. I grabbed the ticket, careful not to crumple it in my hand, and when the car door closed behind me, I screamed as loudly as I could, just to feel something in the back of my throat. When I got home, I sobbed on the couch for an hour. I told Jo that I wished the parking enforcement agent had just killed me instead, and I meant it.

I’ve been putting on my bravest face through all of this, but I’m not sure I can do it anymore. The other day, I woke up cold and so full of dread, so decidedly unmotivated about the fact that I had no choice but to live out the next twenty-four hours in my skin, that I scared myself. I took a walk on the boardwalk at night just to be alone for a bit and listened to The Menzingers’ On The Impossible Past as loudly as my headphones would allow.

On The Impossible Past is a punk rock album about nostalgia from a speaker who is certain that life has only gotten worse with each passing year. That second thing is the part that resonates with me: the present is awful, until it’s in the past, at which point it doesn’t seem so bad anymore. And look, I’ve spent enough time alone in my bedroom, or driving on the Parkway, or riding the subway in the middle of the night, thinking about my own past that I know I can’t remember a year where I spent even most of its days happy. I think it’s a feature of my depression. It’s impossible to see joy in the present; it’s only visible in the rearview mirror. Singer Greg Barnett sums it up at the end of the second verse in “Gates”: “You’ll carve your names into the Paupack cliffs, / just to read them when you get old enough to know / that happiness is just a moment.” It’s an old picture with a friend you haven’t spoken to in years, a box of mementos and old birthday cards under your bed, your initials carved into a cliffside in an attempt to make the momentary infinite.

When I lived in Queens, the thing I missed most about my hometown in New Jersey was these walks along the boardwalk, from Asbury to Belmar and back. The way it quieted down when I walked there at night, alone with my thoughts and the sounds of waves and seagulls clashing over whatever found its way into my headphones. Asbury Park, Ocean Grove, Bradley Beach, Avon-By-The-Sea, over the bridge into Belmar, the walk back to my car, parked alongside Deal Lake to avoid the parking meters in Asbury. The way the boardwalk changed in texture from weathered driftwood to polymer to concrete as I walked south though the neighboring towns. My feet sweat in my shoes, my ears rang from my music up irresponsibly high, I watched the horizon as barges carried cargo along a sliver of Atlantic, and I thought about coming and going, passing through. It calmed me when I needed it.

The boardwalk is packed these days. I think everyone’s looking for that same feeling I sought, an escape. I can’t blame them for looking.

There’s a bridge in “Mexican Guitars” preceded by a beat where the guitar rings out. For a moment, it sounds like the song is over, like a new song has crept its way over the hill, into view, some small glimpse into an answer to all of this misery that Greg Barnett has invoked. Then, there’s a brief moment of clarity. Greg sings:

“I did what I did to get away from this, ‘cause everything that's happened now has left me a total wreck, and everything that I do now is meaningless, so I'm off to wander around the world for a little bit.”

He continues, as the chorus kicks in for the first time:

“So does anyone know the best way to go? Which road that I could take to get to Mexico? ‘Cause I’m so sick of living in this ditch with only the memories in the back of my head. I’m on cruise control and the radio’s on. Yeah, they’re playing that song that we both learned on our Mexican guitars.”

There’s a sense memory here that draws back that moment of happiness: a song comes on the radio that reminds the speaker of learning to play guitar on a Mexican Fender, an affordable alternative to the pricey American-made models. It kicks in as the driver’s on cruise control—moving forward in a straight line for such a long distance that holding a foot to the gas pedal would be physically cumbersome. If there’s an antidote, a surefire way to relive the moment that is happiness, it’s forward momentum. It’s aimless ambulation. Before the final chorus of “Casey,” Barnett reinforces the idea by employing Springsteen-esque car worship: “Just tell me when you're ready, I'm all packed to go / to search for that old place we found forever ago. / Oh, and we could take my car, yeah, she’s still got the spirit / we could live, we could live, we could live, / and no longer just have to hear it.”

I don’t know if anything’s better anywhere else. I don’t know if there’s some old place or some new place that could possibly serve as a refuge to the uniquely horrifying moment. I read a lot on Twitter and in the news about how this country had a record number of new cases this week, how many hundreds of new cases New Jersey reports each day. But it’s hard not to wonder when you spend every second at home.

I worry that I’ll look back on this time nostalgically. I’m afraid I’ll miss it, erase the sharp edges and long for this miserable, impossible summer, where I spend most of my time browsing the internet, playing video games, and watching movies every night with my girlfriend. I worry I’ll forget the anxiety, the depression, the grief. And when I get to thinking too much about that, I start to wonder if I can really trust myself at all. What if things aren’t as bad as they seem? What if I look back on everything nostalgically because things aren’t so bad in the first place? Do I really need money and a job to be happy, to be at peace? How am I supposed to feel about that?

I don’t have the answers at the moment. All I can say is that, a few nights ago, when I walked in a straight line to Belmar with On The Impossible Past in my headphones, I felt as close to an answer as I’ve ever felt. On “I Can’t Seem To Tell,” Greg sings “I can’t seem to tell if it’s my head or the earth that’s spinnin’ around,” and I nod my head, slowly at first, then sharply.

#bsidecollection

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jonathankatwhatever · 9 months

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I’m in a terrible mood. It’s 14 August 2023. I think it’s partly the sleep issues: Debbie has been showing signs of sleep deprivation because she would get up with the cat at 4-5AM and then only have short bursts of sleep thereafter, and though I’d volunteer to do that, she wouldn’t wake me, so the only solution is to sleep on the couch, take care of the cat, and then either lock him outside if it’s light or in the living room if not and then go to bed. It really makes my mood teeter, like there’s a cloud pushing on me, and there’s an angry voice saying stop. Don’t like feeling this way. It causes me to lose control. And that makes things escalate.

So in part I’m complaining about the very process which gets me so far into understanding, because it refuses to be confined to good thoughts. That’s true but only up to: sleep deprivation. There is a bridge there which allows this thought form to filter into areas where I don’t want it, where it’s not useful, where it makes me feel bad. And both Pathways include stress.

This feels like I’m Sisyphus, and that tells me the real meaning of the story isn’t that the rock rolls down the hill but that the process of being starts over each day, that one day’s understanding leads to a lack of understanding because when you reach that End, you know can begin to access the other sides of that End. That is, you approach an End along an Extent, a line where Extent means the line combines all the relationships off to the sides in Triangular and gs. I tend to think of an Extent as being in Triangular, because the gs construct. I gather that’s important, but I feel very sad and stupid right now. I can’t even understand gs construction and I’m the only one who knows what it is.

It’s saying that D4-3Things construct as the Ends of Extents in Triangular. That’s the key point. As Extents in Triangular, the D4-3Things are not in the same space, the same D3-4Space, but rather remain in D4-3Space.

Within me, there seems to be a very bad transition into HC thinking. I have embraced working with 2 hands and allowing the right to be the f identified side, but that brings out the hysterical in me that I recognize from childhood. I get worked up, and what really annoys me then is a refusal to engage in discussion. Example: I hate the oil wax whatever that Debbie insists on using on the table, and it’s not so much that it’s terrible, but that she pours a ton on and thus it reeks and has to be rubbed for a long time and then is still sticky greasy. And I’ve told her that scores of times. Have had arguments about it. And today, I sit on the couch as we prepare for a showing (that didn’t happen, because I’m cursed) and she starts pouring that oil wax on the table right in front of me. So I said I’ll do that, and when she objected I couldn’t hold back and told her because you use 10 times too much, as I quickly wiped up as much as I could. This became how I criticize her, so I let out how I do laundry because she doesn’t fold my clothes with the care I like and that became how I know when she says she hasn’t left a mess for me to clean, I know it’s a huge pile of stuff jumbled together, with a fork stuck at the bottom, and I don’t say anything about that. Or like that I always load and empty the dishwasher and it’s always loaded the same way, so why can’t she put the glasses and cups where they always go and why can’t she put a fork with the forks? That became me saying I try to do what she asks. What I was looking for, in my 4 year old sense, is some form of engagement. Like I do nearly all the laundry and for decades I’ve always put the clean towels on top, pull the new ones from the bottom, so why did you not do that? Tell me. Did you forget because you weren’t paying attention to what you were doing? Did you forget because you don’t do laundry very often (but maybe don’t want to admit that to yourself)?

Like just now, she came home and was going to not speak to me because I criticized her. I asked to speak with her. I told her I realized I was sleep deprived because I was seeing the same mood issues in myself that I saw with her. I suggested taking turns dealing with the cat. To my surprise, she suggested locking him in the living room overnight, which I didn’t think she’d accept so I didn’t articulate it. That’s productive. I hate non-productive discussions. If I’m bothering you, if some habit of mine is offensive enough to you that you need to bring it up, meaning temper, meaning emotion, meaning not always being in control because the need to be in control is not sustainable.

I can articulate even that in HC terms: the need to control fails because it crosses from End to End, from 1-1, and thus there is an orthogonal. In my head that models as 2HG sharing a center with that flickering to a gs. The flicker in that case is DC&R, the reduction from D6 and the construction, what I think of as spin-up, from lower D-structure. I almost said D3, but it’s more complicated than that, more 2-3-4 and 6-5-4. That’s 8-8-8, which is the I//I of a grid box, meaning of a gs cube. That is, of course, perfect.

Like seeing that Sisyphus is everyone is the same idea we had in high school, so why is that exciting now? That’s like asking why anything has a short term meaning, like why is ‘Let’s Go!’ so common now as an exhortation? I know it was what Tom Brady would scream, so it’s winning and leader of a team, and the other orthogonal that relates the externalities to the internalities, if that’s a word. Remember, these are Boundaries, which are identity shells, and that means they - I hope this works out - map as an fD in which the Triangular is to the self, as that self splits so it processes the 2Ends of any pairing, with the higher level Triangular of those 2 parts of the self, over yet another fD at that higher Triangular level, so the self generates.

Where? I’m seeing this as inside, those Boundary layers, meaning let’s say you reach all the way to the outer Boundary and that connects to something that goes all the way to your core, so it accurately conveys across the larger Triangular to the inner core within the inner Boundary. Like if we had a complex system on one side and a complex system on the other, and the communication between them is on a line, a midline that draws the Triangular in which there is anything from unity to dissociation. As in, something at the outer Boundary which doesn’t reach the core at all. Or something within the inner Boundary that doesn’t come out for a while, if at all, like everything you suppress.

This describes my ‘treatment’ of much of the current pathology of hysteria: recognize how the process works, that it finds the transitions within your focus and it escapes as a unit, as a series of permutations, of stories, of thoughts which you’ve had in you, even if you don’t like them. It’s not good ‘treatment’ to encourage those processes because they often manifest as worst case scenarios in the present. That means you place a super high value on a negative outcome which you bring forward into the present, which overvalues it, which manifests as poor decisions like self-harm. We can describe that. We already did some of that above: D4-3Things being brought into the present of your D3-4 existence can loom large. We see that when people get overwhelmed in a good way too, but then you can see the process by which that occurs, like you buy tickets. That’s the difference between an Actuality, which is D3-4, and the intangibility of D4-3Things.

Again, the issue isn’t the intangible Things attached to tObjects to make D3-4Things: those pair to the next Boundary. This is another version of the long ago understanding that 0-1-0 reaches to the End itself, and thus fits to the Between of any L-Counts. As in, it’s easy to see that L5 will stretch to all but L3 and L7 in its maximal form, but L5 will also stretch to L13 or whatever, and that’s obviously necessary to count in modules. The obvious case is L9 because it is L3, which stretches to almost L5, to almost L7 to almost L9, and if it closes at L9 but not at L5 and L7, then it counts 3 times the original 3 as it flows through L5 and L7. That L3 maps to all but IC and in multiple directions, most obviously along the szK.

This could be really useful, like the play Cats, because let’s say we count along L9 by 3, then each 3 count means an IC with some other gs from among the ones included both in L9 and the lower L-counts. Say that’s unspecified. So in that counting, L9 is also 12, which is 2SBE2 but not fully specified, meaning it’s 2SBE2 of whatever that SBE of SBE generates is also SBE of the implicit IC relationships inherent in the count along L9 as L3’s. This is really the same, I think, as the older version in which we can see the IC at the szK, and then we imagine each gs taking its turn in that role to see if it fits the form, but with more depth. That masks the actuality of the permutations that don’t fit that particular specification, which is the important point: by not completely specifying, we assert the external effect, the imposition of fit in 0-1-0 from HC, from above.

I need to gain control of myself.

———-

Truly remarkable understanding is occurring. At laundromat.

———-

Is there a word for unreally real when they fully commute so it’s also really unreal? Should be.

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daily-hayley568 · 2 years

Text

“i should have seen it coming”

title: “i should have seen it coming.”

summary: in which the reader confronts fred’s infidelity and the aftermath.

warnings: ANGST, ANGST, A N G S T, swearing, mentions of sexual content

[1] [2] [3]

“I should have seen it coming.”

“See what coming?” He pivoted on his heel, turning to face me. He was almost out of the door. Why didn’t I just let him leave? Leave our home, leave this relationship, leave me.

I scoffed at his question as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Instead of answering the question, I dodged it by walking to the apartment studio’s kitchen island leaning against the cool marble to look at him.

“I thought I was intelligent, but I guess I’m not, if I didn’t see this coming.” I rolled my eyes, folding my arms over the graphic ACDC tee-shirt that once belonged to Lee Jordan, whom I stole it from.

“What in the fuck are you talking about?” He seethed, beginning to lose his temper with me.

Why was he angry with me? I didn’t do anything. If anything I should be angry with him, but I felt numb. I didn’t want to feel anymore. My family always said feelings make you weaker, and now I finally understood why.

“The only thing we’ve been talking about!” I was in love with someone dense as a rock.

“Well, what do you want me to say? You want to tell you I love you when I don’t? Do you want to hold you and comfort you while we pretend this didn’t happen? Do you want me to act like I’m not in love with someone else? What, what do you want, Y/N!”

“I wanted to be loved! And obviously that’s not you, Fred! You’re in love with her, whoever she is. I kept quiet because I loved you, heck, I love you! That isn’t good enough for you and you know that. I know that. And you know what I also want? For you to leave!”

“Gladly.” Fred turned around again slamming the apartment door closed. It shook the flat or so I thought. As the door shook, it was the last rattle against my walls and I fell apart.

I fell to the floor. My heart was torn, it felt as if Fred Weasley ripped my heart out and stomped on it. It felt as if my heart was laying in front of me pooling all of the blood and love was seeping onto the hardwood dripping on the old lady’s couch that was the next floor down.

Well, that was a long time ago. That book in my series in my life was sealed and placed away in a glass case where it couldn’t be opened even by the nosiest onlookers of my life.

Ginny had found me that night and she, Luna, Hermione, and Pansy Parkinson had stayed for that entire weekend. The girls had left their children with their own men and cared for me.

Even if Fred was her brother, Ginny was furious with him. She told me she would ignored him for months after our breakup. The only time she did talk to him was when she used her bag-bogey hex.

When Ginny told me that story I laughed even if it was just a small one.

But after our breakup, I didn’t mope. I moved on with my life, sort of.

So for those wondering; am I still in love with Fred? Absolutely. In my world, you never stop loving someone even after what they did. Fred did me very wrong and I would probably never take him back but I still loved him.

It was November, months after Fred and I split. According to Ginny, Fred was still seeing Chloe, the girl I was left for. She was everything I wasn’t but if Fred was happy, I was happy (I wasn’t okay but I could pretend).

Now, I sat at my desk staring at the mannequin in front of me. My first fashion line went viral after Ginny wore it to an interview for the Daily Prophet. Even Rita Skeeter wrote only good things about it!

I stopped thinking about Fred as much as I did when we were dating. I didn’t need a man. A man needed me.

I looked down to my blank sketch book and groaned, slamming my head into the desk. The door swung up and I looked and saw my best friend Ginny Potter with a huge grin on her face.

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Yes I’ve got to finish this new design.” Ginny leaned over on her toes and saw my blank page.

“Yeah…. Real good work, babes.” I narrowed my eyes at her and she gave me an innocent grin. “Anyway, Harry and I are having dinner tonight and you, my precious girl, are going!”

“I’m not 15th wheeling, Ginny.” I frowned, blinking at her.

“I’ve already got that sorted! Remember Cormac Mclaggen, oh yes of course you do, he’s your date.”

“You’re infuriating, Ginerva.”

“All I’m hearing is; Oh Ginny, thank you I’ll be there and I’ll bring my cupcakes that everyone loves!”

“Fine, I’ll go, but only because I’ll get to wear my dress for a sneak peek of my new line. By the way, my newest line for you is in that closet right there.”

“Oh, I’ll wear one tonight, see you!” Ginny grabbed her new dresses and outfits and apparated away.

I was a fashion designer, for Salazar’s sake, and I couldn’t even pick out an outfit. Currently standing in my walk-in closet I couldn’t pick out the perfect outfit. Then I finally decided on a sheer black polka-dot bodysuit and a simple black spaghetti strap dress that stopped a few inches above the knee. Accompanying the dress was a pair of black strappy heels and a black clutch.

After the apparition to the Potter’s manor, I slipped inside not bothering to knock. I made my way to the kitchen where the food was set and I placed a batch of cupcakes on the island. Surprisingly, the kitchen was empty and I took my time placing the cupcakes to make them give a sense of perfection.

“Those look ravishing, darling.” I tensed at the male voice, obviously expecting to be with myself alone.

I turned around and smiled sheepishly at Cormac Mclaggen who was now in front of me, closer than I’d like. “Thanks, they're my special recipe!”

Cormac pulled a piece of my hair letting it run through his fingers. My eyes shot to the shoulder where he dropped the strand of hair before glancing back at him. He was taller now than he was when we were in school. He had scars littering across his face, from the second wizarding war, no doubt.

“Would you like to join the others?” I nodded, leading the way out of their kitchen into the living room.

Cormac followed behind me, and I grinned as all my friends turned to look at me.

“Y/N, my beloved!” Pansy shouted, happily running up to me bringing me into a hug.

“Hello, Pans. Blaise.” I waved to her fiancé who stood behind her in an Italian suit that I could spot miles away.

“Hello, Viper,” Blaise smirked, pulling me into a hug next. I rolled my eyes at his silly nickname. Draco, Theodore, and he made that nickname for me after I grabbed a viper in our fifth year at Hogwarts.

Theo was on the couch across from me with Luna Lovegood curled up by his side who gave me her classic dreamy smile, “Hello, Y/N.” Luna grinned. Theo gave a wave with his free hand and I returned the gesture.

I sat down on the loveseat with Cormac taking his spot next to me, throwing his arm around the back of the couch. Draco and Hermione were sitting in the armchair next to us with Draco sitting on the armchair and Hermione in his lap. Hermione smiled brightly at me in greeting and Draco sent a Slytherin smirk in my direction.

After listening to Ginny, I learned that all the kids were sent to the Burrow to hang out with Molly and Arthur. Molly was probably ballistic with joy and I could just imagine Arthur showing the young ones muggle objects.

George and Angelina entered the living room with their fingers intertwined and I caught the sense of hesitation from the Weasley brother and the quick whisper to Angelina, who suddenly brightened at the sight of me.

After George, only moments later the other twin came in with his top four buttons unbuttoned and fresh lipstick smeared across his neck and behind him came a blonde fixing her tight dress that hardly covered the curve of her butt. If Fred was interested in her, obviously I was not the one made for him. I had a sense of er, modesty, per se. I wasn’t meaning to shame her clothes but, seriously, what did she have that was so good to cheat on me? Chloe obviously had it all.

Then she turned her face towards me and it clicked. Chloe Argen, my own damn secretary. She had quit before the line had even gone viral, actually, she quit a few days after my split with the Weasley twin. I turned my face to Cormac,

“How classy of them.” Cormac breathed a chuckle, sending me a brilliant smile.

Fred and Chloe took the seat adjacent to Cormac and me. Cormac probably knew what happened between Fred and I, and I assume that’s why he scooted closer, dropping his arm around my shoulders and not behind the back of the couch.

The couch was a five-seater, but it seemed Chloe was too thick to realize it as she placed herself in the lap of Fred himself and began slurping across his neck as if he was a slurpee.

“What are we fifteen?” Ginny Potter’s voice harshly broke through the silence and Chloe looked up to see the girl and smirked.

“Sorry, but your brother is so pleasing in bed, I can’t help but keep my hands off him.” Chloe pouted and Ginny rolled her eyes.

“It’s a thing she has to do, Gin, if her hands aren’t on him whose hands are? We all know Fred gets distracted easily.” Cormac snickered in my ear as Ginny broke out into a wide smile.

“Who let this slut in here?” Chloe growled, turning towards me.

“Please stop talking to me as if I’m a mirror, Chloe.” I rolled my eyes.

“Now it’s crystal clear why Fred cheated on you!” The blonde yelled, beginning to stand up in front of me.

Fred looked like he was about to kill someone, me or her? I couldn’t tell you. “Let’s chat?” Fred stood finally talking for the first time this night, latching his arm around Chloe’s upper arm.

The couple left and I glanced at Ginny who was burning holes through the back of their heads while they left.

“Five galleons that they fix their problems by sex.” George called placing the galleons on the coffee table.

“Five galleons she manipulates her way out of it.” I dropped the galleons on the table and smirked at George.

“Five galleons that they break up.” Harry Potter entered himself into the bet by dropping the five galleons onto the table.

“I’ll watch the money.” Hermione offered transfiguring the Witch Weekly magazine into a glass jar and putting the fifteen galleons into it.

—

A year later, I was still single. Cormac and I just wanted to be friends and now Cormac was happily with Lavender Brown. All my friends were happy. Blaise and Pansy had gotten married, Theo and Luna got engaged, Harry and Ginny had their second child, Ron and Astoria were expecting, Hermione became Minister of Magic, and Draco and Blaise opened a new business.

The sun baked on me while I sketched different patterns of scales into my fashion sketchbook. I wanted my line to be something totally different and I found the perfect thing; dragons. Of course, I wasn’t going to poach dragons for designs, but I was going to design dragon scales into this new line.

A baby dragon that hatched only hours earlier rested on my shoulder peering down at my sketchbook. Romania was wonderful and Ginny helped me get a place to stay which was with her brother, Charlie. Charlie and I never really met even when I was with Fred. He visited a lot but we never got the chance to actually bond like we were now. Then, I was just a kid to him, but now we were inseparable.

He showed me all the different types of dragon patterns and I had to know more. So, now, I sat on a large boulder drawing the precise pattern of the Hungarian Horntail.

“I’ve got lunch!” Charlie grinned holding up two paper-sacks and I laughed taking one from the older Weasley brother. Charlie took a seat next to me on the boulder and sighed, “Did you hear?” He asked softly, and I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion turning to him.

“Hear what?”

“Fred’s engaged,” My heart that was trying to bandage the glass up just dropped and shattered. I swallowed the large lump in my throat. Why couldn’t I just get over him? Why? Why did I have to be in love with someone who I wasn’t good enough for? “-to Chloe.”

“Oh,” I murmured softly, picking at the crust of my sandwich, suddenly feeling not hungry.

“I just wanted to tell you, before you get back to London.”

I nodded slowly, “So him and Chloe, huh?” I looked up to watch the dragon.

“I always thought it would be you two, you know? I thought you were perfect for him. Turns out you’re just perfect.” Charlie softly smiled, turning to face me.

“Oh, Charlie dear, I’m far from perfect.”

“Well, I don’t think Fred deserves you, but I do want to get under his skin. Whaddya say?”

“What are you going on about, Char?”

“You came to visit Romania, you finally got to bond with me, and instead of going back single you’re madly in love with me.” When he realized I still didn’t get it, he explained more, “We’re going to fake-date, pretend we’re madly in love with each other, and anger the hell out of Frederick Gideon Weasley.”

“Oh, love, sounds wonderful.” I leaned forward pressing my lips against his.

We were in my manor since Charlie decided to visit for a month. We told all of our friends about the elaborate plan and we only had to act as a couple at the Burrow and in public. For some reason it was easy. This was easy. He was easy.

“How do I look?” I stepped out of the closet in a red sundress for the July weather.

“Gorgeous, my dear.” He smirked and linking our arms and apparating to the Burrow.

When we landed in the field, Charlie wrapped his arm around my waist and I couldn’t ignore the butterflies that set aflame in my abdomen.

Just not used to being touched was probably it. Butterflies aren’t in our stomach, just so you know.

When we set foot inside Molly wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug, “Darling, Y/N! So good to see you. And Charlie you too, my dear.”

Tonight was the night we were going to reveal that Charlie and I were ‘seeing’ each other. George said Chloe and Fred were going to be here as well, so it was perfect. Charlie and I decided that we would announce it at the dinner table to make sure everyone was listening.

“How was your Romania trip, Y/N?” After the Weasley mother hugged her son she turned to me.

“Wonderful,” I flicked my glance to Charlie’s, before smiling at Molly. “I finally have my next line’s pattern ready and I just need to start designing!”

“I’m just glad that you’re happy and so determined to make a future happen, even after everything.”

Of course, she was referring to Fred and I. It was a new drama then, of course everyone knew. I gave her a tight-lipped grin before turning my attention to the living room, “Molly, who’s all here?”

“Hermione and Draco just arrived a few moments before you two, Ron and Astoria came through floo earlier, and Ginny and Harry apparated here a little bit before Hermione and Draco.”

“Perfect!” I walked off leaving Charlie to chat with his mother, and I took a seat happily beside a Harry Potter who was looking through old pictures.

George, Angelina, Chloe, and Fred all entered. George shot me a drained look as he threw himself in an armchair.

Chloe seemed to learn some restraint since this time she decided to sit next to Fred instead of straddling him like a year ago. The room now felt off with Fred and Chloe in it. It felt as if the happiness was drained from the room and replaced with tension.

Chloe Argen was my personal dementor.

“Who invited her?” Someone needed to teach Chloe whispering talents.

As if he was my saving grace, Charlie walked in with a smile on his face and took a seat next to me.

“Hello, everyone.” Charlie greeted throwing his arm over the back of the leather couch.

“Charlie!” Fred smiled. “It’s great to see you. Have you met my fiancé, Chloe?”

“I’ve heard of her, that’s for sure.” He glanced at me with a smirk and I let a laugh out of my nose.

Everyone greeted Charlie and most gave him hugs and then Molly called us for dinner. Bill and Fleur, and Remus and Tonks were already seated at the table. Tonks stood and her and Charlie shared a long hug of reunion. Charlie took the seat directly across from Tonks and I sat next to him, Remus in front of me.

The food was served and everyone was chatting. Chloe was showing her ring off to Molly who looked highly displeased, Ginny, Remus, and I were discussing quidditch, Tonks and Charlie were speaking of the Aurors, Ron and Harry were talking about Godric knows what, and Fred and George were making some kind of joke between them, Angelina and Astoria were speaking of kid, and Bill, Fleur, and Arthur were talking about Gringotts and future possibilities for security.

“Charlie, when are you ever going to get a girlfriend?” George joked, a slight smile on his face.

“I’m curious, Charles, are there any lovely girls in Romania?” Molly perked up. The side conversations had stopped and everyone was listening intently to the now, main conversation.

“Well, one.” Charlie shrugged casually taking a bite of his breadstick, “But she was only visiting to get ideas for her fashion line.” The Weasley grinned down at me and I looked up with a sheepish smile.

Molly paused then let out a loud gasp, “You and Y/N! How perfect!” Molly clapped her hands.

Charlie winked before kissing me on the lips and turning back to his mother, “When she was visiting, I just knew she was perfect.”

“Who knew right? Me, a fashion designer, falling for the gruff dragonolist.”

“I’m more dashing than gruff.” Charlie rolled his eyes playfully.

“Sure, darling.”

After dinner, everyone had split up for the summer evening. Bill, Remus, Tonks, Fleur, Molly, Chloe, and Arthur went into the living room playing classical wizarding music. Everyone else sprinted outside to play a game of quidditch, I walked myself out on the porch watching the quidditch game, mostly Charlie, from afar.

“Had to get a Weasley somehow, huh?” Well, obviously, I wasn’t alone like I thought I was. Sadly, I knew that voice all too well.

“I don’t get how my life bothers you, Fred.” I sigh, never turning my head towards him. “I was happy for you when you and Chloe got together, maybe I give you too much credit where it’s due.”

“Don’t pull that card on me. You told me to get out.”

“Fred, you told me you didn’t love me anymore and this is still my fault?”

“Of course it is your fault!”

I left him heading towards the quidditch game. I couldn’t deal with it

That night after Charlie bid me goodnight, I kicked the wall in my room. Stupid Fred Weasley, his stupid jokes, his stupid smirk, stupid brown eyes, stupid ginger hair. Stupid me for being in love with such a man.

What was so wrong with me that I didn’t deserve love? The best I could do was be in a fake relationship with Charlie Weasley. Ugh, ugh, UGH! I kicked the wall again out of frustration. Why did he have to talk to me? Why couldn’t he just make out with Chloe, or better yet, couldn’t he just have left? Leaving for him was quite easy.

Fuck Fred Weasley.

Wait shit. I’ve already done that.

Anyway.

Part two?

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wazzupmrstark · 3 years

Text

dirty reflection || th x reader

Summary: fulfilling a long held fantasy with your boyfriend (cockwarming him in front of a mirror)

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: this was a piece for @honeymoonlover's birthday that i inserted tom into :)

Masterlist

"Tell me!"

“No!”

“Please!”

“No, I’m too embarrassed!”

You turned away from your boyfriend on the couch with your arms folded across your chest in protest. If there was anyone who could get you to spill something it was Tom, but you were determined not to break.

“Please, baby?” he asked again, and walked around to the other side of the sofa so that you could see his big brown eyes.

You squeezed your own eyes shut, as to not let him guilt trip you and shook your head stubbornly. Tom let out a sigh of frustration and you thought that maybe he had given up until you heard him chuckle above you.

“Fine, then I guess we won’t have sex at all.”

“What?”

You opened your eyes again and stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. He smirked.

“You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“No,” he insisted, doubling down. “If you won’t tell me what you want, we won’t have sex until you do.”

“You know what I want! You already know how to make me feel good.”

“I thought I did,” he huffed, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

“You do!”

Tom raised his arms above his head, bringing the hem of his t-shirt up to reveal a small strip of his stomach and the elastic of his Calvin Klein’s. You sucked in a breath and pursed your lips, ignoring the sight before you.

“But not this!”

The this he was referring to was just a silly fantasy of yours, one that you had purposely kept secret because you were embarrassed to admit to wanting something so... filthy. You had never planned to fulfill it- you were more than content to simply imagine the scene playing out when Tom wasn’t home, and use your own hands instead of his to take the edge off. But as of 20 minutes ago that wasn’t an option anymore because your boyfriend had come across your messages with your best friend about that very fantasy.

He hadn’t meant to pry. He had just gotten home from shooting and grabbed your Mac off of the coffee table to check Twitter. You weren’t around, but he always used your computer to scroll through social media anyway so he figured he didn’t need to ask. Your last iMessage conversation with Sloane was still up, and he went to minimize the window when he read his name at the top of one of your blue bubbles. He knew he shouldn’t have been reading your private messages, but he couldn’t stop himself.

s: you should just tell him

y/n: idk how to bring it up

s: it’s not that hard

y/n: would it be weird to ask you to tell him for me?

s: bitch yes

s: i don’t want to talk to your bf about your sex life

y/n: tom knows you though! You could just sneak it into conversation casually yk?

s: i’m not telling him you want to be-

That was as far as he got before you walked back into the room and he slammed the laptop shut in panic, looking like you’d just caught him watching porn- which to be fair, you had done before.

Before you could say anything, or even process what had just happened, Tom flipped it around on you.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Your brain still hadn’t processed the situation so you furrowed your brow in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean-”

“Why are you talking to Sloane about our sex life?” he demanded. It finally clicked. “And what about it is so terrible about it that you don’t want to tell me yourself?”

“There’s nothing terrible about it!” you assured him.

“Then what?” His face was starting to turn red like it did whenever he got worked up. “Have you been faking-”

“No!”

You could feel your face starting to heat up as well at the implication.

“We were just talking about a dumb fantasy of mine, that’s all.”

And that’s what led you to where you were now, staring each other down over the edge of the couch, daring the other to be the first to break. The room was still filled with tension, but there had been a shift in context.

Tom's eyes were dark and nearly unreadable in the dim light of your living room.

“You’re really not going to fuck me until I tell you?” you asked. He nodded again in earnest, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “But what do I get out of telling you?”

He gave you a look like it should have been obvious. “We’re going to do it.”

You hesitated. “What if you’re not into it?”

He shrugged and brushed off the possibility. “I’m into whatever you’re into.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I promise,” Tom said and pressed a kiss to your lips as if to seal it. “I’m not going to judge whatever it is you want me to do to you. No matter how gross it is.” You scoffed and swatted at him, but he dodged your hand easily.

“I can’t stand you,” you muttered.

“Oh, is that why you’re always kneeling for me?”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

The smirk fell from his face as he hastily cleared his throat and beckoned for you to continue.

“You know that mirror we have in our bedroom?” you asked.

Tom nodded, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth as if he had an idea about where this was going.

“I’ve always wanted to cockwarm you while we sit in front of it.”

Your boyfriend was smiling from ear to ear now. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“I mean, pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” The next part you mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” Tom asked, leaning over the couch so that he could hear you.

“Yes,” you bit out and clenched your jaw in a pathetic sort of pout.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Okay, get up.”

“What, why?”

“I’ve got some lines to read over. You can keep my cock warm while I do that.”

“Right now?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“It-it is.”

“Then get up.”

You did as you were told and stood up from your spot on the sofa, watching as Tom grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs and began dragging it behind him.

“Why-”

“I don’t want to ruin our armchair,” he said as an explanation and jerked his head in the direction of your bedroom, motioning for you to follow him.

The mirror in your bedroom was one of your favorite things in the house. It sat on the floor leaned up against the wall with a large ornate frame encompassing it. It was almost taller than you, and weighed about sixty pounds. Its gold paint was chipping in the corners and it was a bit scuffed up, but it was still the best find you’d ever made at the antique fair and you stood by that. You still remembered carrying it home the day you bought it. Tom had filmed the process instead of helping, watching you struggle with the newspaper-wrapped package through the screen on his phone with a smug grin on his face the entire time.

Tom set the chair on the floor in front of the mirror and began to strip, pulling off his hoodie first before shimmying out of his joggers. You followed in suit by unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. You stepped out of it and went for your shirt next, yanking it over your head. Your hands went for the clasp of your bra after that before thinking twice.

“Do you want my bra off or-”

He seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. “Leave it on.”

You nodded and dropped your hands back by your side, watching him grab his notebook from the desk and settle on the chair. He was completely naked now, and you were left in just your underwear, a scene you both were intimately familiar with.

He spat into his palm and took his cock in his hand, pumping a few times before you stopped him.

“Let me,” you offered, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He groaned and handed over his control easily. You grinned to yourself before taking him in your mouth. You knew he’d never pass up an opportunity to have you suck him off.

You worked slowly, taking your time, enjoying the feeling of him getting hard on your tongue. Tom gripped your hair with one hand and clutched his notebook with the other. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his head upright. In the mirror he could see the back of your head bobbing up and down on his lap, the expanse of your back, every scar, freckle, and mole he’d seen a thousand times before but now from a different angle.

You hollowed out your cheeks and took him to the back of your throat, trying not to laugh when you heard him curse.

“Stop,” he breathed out, pulling you off of him by your hair. “You’re a menace.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

He glared at you for a moment before flicking his gaze downwards.

“I’d ask if you want me to return the favor, but I don’t think I need to.” He reached out to prove his point and brushed a couple fingers over your panties, ignoring the way you trembled as he did. He held his hand up to you to show you the wetness gathered on his pointer and index before bringing them to his lips and sucking it off. “You’re plenty wet already.”

You suppressed a moan and pursed your lips, nodding in agreement.

Tom didn’t have to say anything for you to know what he wanted next. You slipped out of your panties and tossed them to the side. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you straddled him and lined yourself up. You both sighed as you sank down onto his cock. He kissed you deeply, winding a hand through hair and moaning your name. You let your head rest against his shoulder and tried not to rock your hips forward. Your boyfriend was having similar issues, hips stuttering underneath you, head falling back in pleasure.

“T-tommy,” you gasped.

“Don’t,” he warned through gritted teeth. You clenched around him involuntarily and whined. “What did I just say?”

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

He took a deep breath and began flipping through the pages of his notebook. You craned your neck to look back at your reflection in the mirror, smiling weakly at the sight. Tom had an arm slung loosely around your waist still. His cheeks were rosy and warm to the touch. Your ass was on full display at this angle, but you didn’t mind. You knew it was your boyfriend’s favorite view anyway, and you weren’t ashamed to admit that you could see why.

The way you were seated on his lap made it look like you could have just been cuddling. The reflection didn’t show Tom's cock buried deep inside your pussy and your breathing had slowed to somewhat of a normal pace.

Tom began to recite his lines to himself and you turned your attention back to him, admiring how he looked while he was concentrating. His eyelashes were so fucking long, it was something you had always been jealous of. The light filtering into the room made them look blond...

You were doing so good. You were relaxing comfortably, lost in your own thoughts, when Tom moved for the first time. He was just scratching his ankle, but the sudden movement made you yelp.

“Don’t do that!” you cried.

“What, this?” he asked and bent down to scratch his ankle again.

“Yes, that,” you growled.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“What about this?”

He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head.

“That’s worse!” you hissed.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He just shrugged and tossed his notebook on the bed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Could use a break,” he replied simply, “and it’s hard to focus with distractions.”

The last part was pointed at you and you narrowed your eyes.

“I have been perfectly still.”

“Yeah, but your... impatience is, well, physical.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re soaking, love.”

You looked down at Tom's lap and suddenly realized what he meant. Your arousal was quite literally dripping onto his thighs and the chair beneath you. That was why he didn’t want to use the armchair. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment and buried your head in your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand up and down your back comfortingly. “Don’t be! I know you can’t help it, and it’s honestly really fucking hot.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No,” he promised and shook his head adamantly. “I like that I have this effect on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I know.”

“So this fantasy of yours,” he said, clearing his throat. “How does it end?"

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I get to pick how it ends?”

“Mhm. I usually leave it up to the imagination so it’s open-ended.”

“You mean when you masturbate to it you cum before it ends so you lose interest?” Tom clarified.

“Maybe.”

“I know you,” he said cockily.

“And like I said, you know what I like.”

“I like to think I do.”

“So tell me what to do.”

“You just like being bossed around.”

“And what about it?”

“Brat,” he spat.

“Bitch.”

Tom smiled and jerked his hips the slightest bit, making you whimper. “Stand up.”

You tried not to show your disappointment, but did as you were told and stood up, wincing at the empty feeling that followed.

“Just for a minute, baby,” he assured you. “Turn around.”

You turned so that you were facing the mirror and let yourself be pulled back onto your boyfriend’s lap. He slid his cock back inside of you almost immediately and praised you for taking it so well.

“I thought you should see yourself,” he whispered against your shoulder.

You moaned, only able to nod in agreement. You were positioned at a bit of an angle now since you were facing forward, but any discomfort you felt evaporated when Tom kissed the back of your neck. He unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor.

“Look at you,” he murmured as he urged you to start riding him, “fucking yourself on my cock like a slut.”

“Fuck, Tom.”

You forced yourself to look at your reflection, straining your neck so that you could see clearly. You made eye contact with yourself only to see a stranger stared back at you. The person in the mirror looked like a fucking pornstar, tits out, legs spread, but also fucked out of their mind.

“Feels so good,” you panted.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Tom brought a hand down to your clit and started to rub in circular motions, a clue that he was getting close. Your legs were shaking at this point and you could feel your own orgasm starting to creep up on you as he slammed into you from behind.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Tom grunted.

You met his eyes in the reflection and gave a weak smile. “I know.”

“Fuck, y/n!” He came suddenly with a moan of your name. You watched in the mirror as his eyes screwed up and his whole body tensed underneath you.

“Can I- can I cum?” you begged, not even sure if you’d be able to hold out if he said no.

A mere nod of his head was all it took for you to tip over the edge. Tom weakly fucked you through it, still riding the end of his own high.

“So good for me,” he managed in broken breaths.

You arched your back against his chest as you came, mumbling profanities the entire time. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch yourself fall apart, but you only caught glimpses.

You collapsed back against Tom as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, gasping for breath like you had just finished running a marathon.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Tom wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head gently. You were both covered in sweat and cum, but neither of you could find the energy to care.

“Of course.”

You let yourself relax against his body for another moment, observing your reflections in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, but so was Tom's. Hickeys were already beginning to bloom on your neck and shoulders, reminders to follow you in the days ahead.

Your eyes wandered up to meet your boyfriend’s, who was already gazing at you tenderly. You shared a brief look and smirked at each other.

“Round two?”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#dirty reflection #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction

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lukeevangelista · 2 years

Note

hiii hope you're having a good day/night, I was wondering if you could do one request based with the song stay stay stay by taylor with jack Hughes? 🥺 Lots of love and good vibes ❤️

hi baby, i’m so sorry for the delay for this!! thank u for being so understanding! but at last, it is finished and here you go!! if you don’t like it, please message me and we’ll get it rewrote!! 🤍🤍

PLEASE DO NOT FORGET MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

———————————————————————————

“i’m pretty sure we almost broke up last night.” you said as you took a bite of the pasta you had ordered. you were currently at dinner with a couple of the other girls.

you laughed as you watched nico’s girlfriend choke on her bread, “wait what?” she asked, all the eyes going to you causing you to shrug, “no ma’am. you don’t get to blurt that out and not explain.”

“i saw some stuff.. on my phone about him. i got pissy with him and i might have tossed my phone at the wall.” you said, holding up your newly cracked phone, “i couldn’t help but be upset. he doesn’t understand how it is to be his girlfriend when he has so many female followers.”

a couple of the girls nodded, clearly understanding your frustration, “did he stay?”

“he did. he never left. he slept on the couch after i suggested we should talk about it later.” you started, “ya know, because apparently you’re not supposed to leave a fight unresolved, according to something jack read. he literally refused to leave. i told him to go stay with ty, but he refused.” he continued, “but he did come in wearing his helmet.” you laughed, “i guess he thought i was going to throw something else this morning.”

the girls let out a chuckle at this as you told the story of that morning.

————

“i’m not leaving!” jack shouted at you as you tried to shove him out of your apartment, “i’m not leaving this unresolved and i’m damn sure not going to bed with you angry at me baby.” he said as he crossed over to you.

“jack, shut the hell up.” you whispered as you finally had enough of him talking before you let out a scream, tossing your phone at the wall, “why did i have to fall in love with you?” you asked as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“i don’t know baby.” he whispered as he fell to his knees in front of you, “but i am glad you did.” he admitted.

“you know, I’ve only ever dated manipulated assholes before you, someone who took their anger and frustrations out on me.” you admitted to him, “i expected the same from you, but its so different. like i feel like you could never hurt me.” you started, “like my god, you carry my backpack and my damn groceries in, just so i don’t break a nail.” you laughed, “and that. you always have some sort of joke to keep me smiling and laughing and i just don’t understand. i don’t understand how you stayed with someone like me.”

“well baby, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i think you’re the funniest when you’re upset with me, even though you hate it. and i hate it too, but god, you’re the cutest and i can’t help but love you all the time. you took the time to live out my fear, hopes, and dreams with me and i couldn’t thank you enough for that.” he said as he pulled you into his chest.

“no one will ever love me like you do.” you stated, “no one.”

“i’ve been loving you for quite some time now and i don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

“i think it would be best if you stayed.”

“glad were on the same page baby.”

—————

you had finished explaining the fight before showing off your left hand, the new jewelry adorning your ring finger.

“oh my god, he didn’t!” they squealed as mile’s girlfriend grabbed your hand, her eyes scanning over the rock, “it’s beautiful.”

“he did such a good job!”

“definitely a keeper!”

“i one hundred percent agree.” you smiled, “even though we were upset with each other, he never left and that made me realize i never want him to leave, even if i’m the maddest i could ever be at him.”

it didn’t take long for you to start into the proposal and how it all went down.

———

“baby, look at me.” he whispered, lifting your chin up to look at him, “i need to talk to you.” he said as he stood up, pulling you up with him.

you watched as his eyes scanned your flushed face. you had calmed down after your fight, but jack knew how to push your buttons and he had caused your blood pressure to rise.

he let out a laugh before cupping your cheeks in his hands, “god, you’re the cutest.” he grinned.

“stop.” you muttered, placing your hands on his wrists, holding on.

“i can’t,” he started as he took a step back, “i really hope you’ll let me do that forever because i want to do that as long as were both alive.” he stated as he knelt down, “y/n, I’ve been in love with you for a long time now and some how, you agreed to be my girlfriend, which the boys still don’t know how i managed that,” he joked, “its like you said, no one will ever love me or understand me like you do. i’ve been loving you for a while now and i want to do it forever.” he continued as he stuck his hand in his pocket, pulling out a navy blue velvet box, opening it to reveal a gorgeous ring, “will you marry me?” he asked as he watched your face change through the emotions.

“yes.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

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