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i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

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Yandere!Monster X Barbarian!Reader

❤️ Barbarian Reader who seems to have put all their stat points into Strength/Dex, and completely forgot Intelligence

💀 thembo.exe

❤️ A huge sweetheart, and I mean huge

💀 Was always the tallest in their village, towering over both women and men alike

❤️ Due to their height (Reader) had a lot more placed on their shoulders from a very early age

💀 Some internal reflection could have led to a deeper understanding of their secret yearning to rely on another person, but that sounds like a lot of work... And thinking...

❤️ Happy to be sent as part of their tribe's representation when meeting with a tribe of monsters despite knowing nothing about politics

💀 While the presence of the monster people caused visible discomfort in their fellow warriors, (Reader) was too busy being star struck to think about how easily this new species could kill them

Xyleth emerges from his tent, unimpressed with the shivering smooth skins before him. His form was only vaguely human in the front, with a gun metal blue chest and face, sparkling in the sun like his skin was dusted in finely crushed gems. However, his backside and limbs were armored in an inky black shell, spiked for protection along his joints and down his long tail, with bone colored claws adorning his claw like appendages. His eyes seemed black in the shade, but held a universe of stars in the light. Xyleth was born to be a leader, only the strongest of his species developed this coloring, separating him from the rest of his tribe whose shells were a sandy brown to hide in the desert of their home.

❤️ (Reader) didn't notice the congregation were speaking, still taking in the sights about them, before they finally looked forward, witnessing the tallest of the monsters

💀 (gasps) "Damn, you're huge!"

❤️ The barbarians gasp in horror, and flinch away from (Reader)

💀 Was this some sort of joke?

❤️ A tight smile formed on Xyleth's chiseled face. "Yes?"

💀 "Yeah, I thought I was big, but damn, you could crush me without breaking a sweat, huh big guy?"

❤️ What's this? Was this human attempting to flatter him? A war lord of a different species?

💀 No, (Reader) was genuinely impressed.

❤️ "And the point of you bringing this up, small one?" He asked, his on edge grin softening into an amused smile. Although he would have no interest in something not his own species, it was adorable how this human flirted with him so confidently (that's not what's happening)

💀 "Ah, no point. I'd love to wrestle you though!" (Reader) knocked their fists together, pumped at the idea of testing their strength against the beast

❤️ Xyleth and his guards were taken aback, Xyleth's tail smacking the ground with surprise. No one had ever been so brave, so brazen. Unknown to the barbarians, the armored monsters had a very unique mating ritual, similar to scorpions dancing while pressing up against each other to test the male's strength

💀 Despite (Reader) being taller than their fellow barbarians, they were still several feet shorter than Xyleth's shortest villager

❤️ But your personality... None of the women or men had ever approached Xyleth like (Reader) had (again, not what's going on..)

💀 Perhaps Xyleth would actually listen to the barbarians, instead of slaughtering them for having the audacity to request a conference with him like he originally planned

❤️ The barbarians were invited to stay with the rival tribe for a week as they discussed various topics (Reader) had no interest in

💀 (Reader) quickly became loved by the local children, the children adoring (Reader) as a human loves their pet puppy, allowing (Reader) to rough house with them and feeding them snacks like a stray

❤️ (Reader) did not find this insulting, and was enjoying the affection and attention they were receiving

Xyleth was bored in his meetings with the soft skins, upset that (Reader) wasn't involved. He had learned that (Reader) was brought in as the muscle, which irked him. Did they not research how giant his species were before arriving? What did they think someone as small and sweet and adora- Xyleth thumped his tail loudly, frightening the barbarians. Why couldn't he get (Reader) out of his head? "Let's continue this after lunch."

💀 Xyleth roamed his streets in search for (Reader). Although they weren't there as part of the 'debate team' it was a little upsetting that (Reader) wasn't at least waiting for Xyleth near the meeting tent seeing how enamored they were with him

❤️ (Reader) was found in a circle of chuckling adults, struggling with all their might to lift two children at the same time

💀 The sight immediately filled Xyleth's heart with warmth, seeing the children as their own for a split second, and picturing an entire future with the barbarian

❤️ He knew (Reader) would have no objections to becoming his mate, however their people might argue

💀 It didn't matter if he had to kill the other barbarians staying in his town, he had initially planned on slaughtering them anyhow, but it would be better if they enthusiastically supported their love

❤️ And they did support his proposal, especially since it was either trade (Reader) for their protection (from Xyleth's own tribe) on their hunting paths, or die right there and have their entire tribe extinguished

💀 What a supportive family (Reader) has~!

(Reader) didn't notice when the rest of their people left the village, still having the time of their life with creatures that more matched their strength and height. One of the kids gasped and wiggled his way out of (Reader's) arms, running away as his parents also turned back towards their homes. A large shadow approached the confused human, who got up, patting the dirt off their legs.

"Play fighting with young boys? Are you trying to make me jealous, little one?" Xyleth joked with a smile.

(Reader) felt their heart soar being called "Little One", relishing in the friendliness they experienced from the citizens the barbarians called monsters.

"Bwahahaha!!! Jealous? If I was as imposing as you, the only one who could make me jealous would be a god!"

Xyleth couldn't control his tail, whacking the ground in embarrassment over his love's honesty flirtatiousness.

"If it wouldn't be too inconveniencing, I would be honored to take you up on that wrestling proposition now.." He could hardly speak with how excited he was, fearful the adorable little human could hear his two hearts rapid beating.

"Really? Right now? I'm a little worn out, but I'll never turn down a challenge! Just don't be too disappointed!"

Xyleth picked (Reader) up in his arms, fighting every urge to take them right then and there in the center of his village.

"I could never be disappointed in you~" his deep voice vibrated against (Reader's) body, as he carried them to his tent, the poor human completely unaware of what he was about to do to them.

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere monster #gender neutral reader #not proofread #thembo #soft yandere #yandere #yandere oc #bad writing

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twobluejeans · 9 months

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HEARTBREAK ON TOUR!

charles leclerc x famous!reader

summary: in which the lavender haze has been lifted. or in which america’s it couple splits.

part 8: you’re losing me, part 7: revenge dress, series masterlist

faceclaim: madison beer

ally’s radio 📻: PART 8! taylor swift deserves jail time for creating you’re losing me. taylor swift also deserves jail time for not officially releasing it. def recommend listening to it reading the chapter! (might have to stream illegally bc mother is being stingy 🙄.)

INSTAGRAM, july 17 (midnight)

liked by paulwesley, ninadobrev, and 13,333,112 others

yourinstagram and just like that, the final chapter of Midnights, is out now. this is my most personal body of work that i'm putting out into the universe, and i'm so scared yet excited to share her with u. thank u to my team, my producer jackantonoff turned dearest friend of almost 7 years (woah!!!) we spent many noons & midnights on this album and i'm forever in debt n grateful. thank u to all my other friends who i didn't mention, yk who u are. to everyone else, thank u for your persistent patience and support. it does not go unnoticed. from my heart to yours, midnights (till dawn edition), is available on all streaming platforms. i love u. thank u 💗.

View all 101,273 comments

leclerccharl ain’t that the teddy bear charles won for her at the fair forever ago??!

y/nsfeverdreamhigh leclerccharl o em gee yeah..

fernandoalonso_offical Proud of you cariño

barbie 🥹🥹💗💗

landonoriss screaming crying shaking throwing up

danielricciardo gagging choking ascending to god

authur_leclerc Love you always, Proud of you always ❤️

INSTAGRAM STORIES, july 17

zendaya 30m

viewed by alexademie, tomholland2013, and 64,134 others

badgalriri 2h

viewed by harrystyles, bellahadid, and 3,262,128 others

sabrinacarpenter 5h

viewed by zendaya, lola.tung, and 1,524,211 others

TWITTER, july 17

The song’s big question: “Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?”

BY: ALLY PUBLISHED: JULY 17, 2023

Y/n L/n’s lyrical candidness is what has always made her standout as a songwriter. Whether she was writing about young love, relationships, or breakups, her songs never flinched from trying to paint a full picture, even if it was one that was hard to look at.

It’s been a while since the super star has released a breakup song, but it was only a matter of time; since the singer split with Charles Leclerc, fans have already began anticipating the inevitable breakup album. But it turns out they didn’t have to wait long. At Midnight (July 17), L/n released a second deluxe edition of her 2022 album Midnights, which included four new songs, among them the release of “You’re Losing Me,” a song fans have deciphered as ostensibly about her split with Leclerc.

via @yourinstagram on instagram

The nearly 5-minute track is a devastating relationship ender if we’ve ever heard one, as it details the hopeless and tragic dissolution of a relationship. Though L/n doesn’t include any names or details, it’s not hard to see why fans are interpreting it as being about her and Leclerc.

When Entertainment Weekly first broke the news of their split in April, sources for both parties diplomatically described the breakup as amicable, and that “it was not dramatic.” “The relationship had just run its course,” one source told ET. However, that story was debunked as L/n herself, stated Leclerc had an affair with Australian Youtuber Lola Ransdell, in one of her Eras Tour Shows. With the release of “You’re Losing Me,” L/n seems to offer a window into her perspective of how things ended while also releasing one of the most devastating songs she’s ever written.

Its lyrics don’t waste any time getting into the tragic heart of the matter. “You say, ‘I don't understand,’ and I say, ‘I know you don’t’/ We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won’t/ Remember looking at this room, we loved it ‘cause of the light/ Now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time,” she sings in the first verse, painting a portrait of two people who are unaligned and have seemingly grown apart in their relationship.

The pre-chorus lays out the song’s big question: “Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?” But waiting for resolution feels like something L/n doesn’t want to do anymore: “I'm getting tired, even for a phoenix/ Always rising from the ashes/ Mending all her gashes/ You might just have dealt the final blow,” she sings.

The most heart-wrenching part of the song comes in on the chorus, as she warns her other half, “Stop, you're losing me/ Stop, you’re losing me/ Stop, you’re losing me I can't find a pulse/ My heart won't start anymore/ For you/ ‘Cause you're losing me.” The lyrics mirror the song’s production which sounds like a quietly pulsing heartbeat, driving the knife’s blade of the song in even deeper.

Perhaps L/n’s biggest skill on this song is being able to convey all the heartbreak and roiling emotion without actually providing any specifics into the breakup.

“You’re Losing Me” is rife with frank, confessional lyrics, but still keeps many of the exact contours of the split obscure. There are no accusations or fingers pointed at who’s at fault. There are no mic drop moments or explosive gossip; The closest L/n gets to revealing any details is on the second verse, when she seems to suggest that the relationship hadn’t been OK for a while now.

“Every morning, I glared at you with storms in my eyes/ How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying?/ I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick/ My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick,” she sings.

On the bridge, L/n reveals that she “wouldn’t marry me either,” perhaps offering the tiniest, sliver of hints into one of the other reasons why they ultimately fell apart: “And I wouldn't marry me either/ A pathological people pleaser/ Who only wanted you to see her/ And I'm fading, thinking/ Do something, babe, say something (say something)/ Lose something, babe, risk something (risk something)/ Choose something, babe, I got nothing (I got nothing)/ To believe, unless you’re choosing me.”

It’s the lack of details, the palpable restraint despite L/n’s clear heartbreak behind its lyrics, that makes “You’re Losing Me” perhaps the most devastating song in her catalog (yes, even more so than “All Too Well.”) Amid the grief and sadness of the song, there’s also a feeling of inevitability, of sorrow that nothing more could be done, of pointlessly waiting for action when you know nothing is coming.

In some regards, it’s one of L/n’s most mature breakup songs in her catalog, regardless of whoever it’s about. And if this is just a “from the vault” track, it makes one wonder what an albums-worth of these songs would sound like.

SEE MORE RELATED POSTS:

• Lola Ransdell Cancelled over resurfaced racism tweets

• Lola Ransdell loses brand deals over Y/n L/n drama

• Charles Leclerc finally breaks his silence over Y/n L/n Breakup

ally’s radio 📻:a filler chapter im sorry😞 but anyways, the related stories r a sneak peak of the next chapter🤫 if u asked me to tag u and i didn’t, pls send me a message or inbox me bc it might’ve gotten lost 😭 i try to stay up-to-date but sometimes i miss people so pls lmk!!!

taglist 🦢🪩: @incoherenciass@dakotali@405rry@topaz125@sassyheroneckgiant@hevburn@itsmytimetoodream@ivegotparticulartaste@crowdedimagines @asterianax @haydee5010@scenesofobx@christinabae@magical-spit@dessxoxsworld@myareadsbooks@honethatty12@hopefulinlove@diasnohibng@gentlemonsterjennie1@hummusxx@eugene-emt-roe@taestrwbrry @perjarma @cxcewg@chimchimjiminie16@glow-ish@allywthsr @millyswife @mrsmaybank13 @black-swan-blog27 @stargaryenx @lilsiz @ohthemisssery @leclerclvr @slytherinjimin3nthusiast @shessthunderstoms @cool-ultra-nerd @ncentic @playboykenz @canvashearts @tinyhrry @xeliaaaa @ifionlywould @gaviypedrisbride @callsignwindow @dhhdhsiavdhaj @chasing-liberosis @laneyspaulding19 @a-daydreamers-day @saikikusouswife @motorsp0rt @lifesuckslife @shessthunderstoms @drewsandsebastianswife @sainzluvrr @ietss

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chvoswxtch · 3 months

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Court baby i've waiting for this moment! I have this idea for a fic living rent free in my head. Its Frank x fem!reader. They were in a very cozy and confy moment when the snap happened and reader was blipped! You could write how Frank deald with those five years and with reader coming back. With a lot of angst moments and flufly and maybe spicy after she comes back. I would love if you accept this request! Thank you, I love you ❤️

i'm not gonna lie to you, the blip is my least favorite marvel storyline, but I love you so I put myself and frank through it just for you 🖤

I would say sorry that i'm about to emotionally wreck you but in my defense, you did ask for this so...enjoy or don't

warning: swearing, mentions of blood, violence, guns, & alcohol, heavy angst, very brief allusion to suicide (blink and you miss it) word count: 4.1k

the blip.

A split second. That’s how quickly Frank lost you. He turned his back for a second to refill his mug of coffee, and when he turned back around, you had vanished seemingly into thin air. At first he thought maybe you had gone back into the bedroom to grab a sweater or something. It had been a bit chilly in the kitchen, and you were always cold. But then a few seconds turned into a few minutes, and Frank didn’t hear any shuffling or soft footsteps. He didn’t hear anything at all. The crisp silence had an icy sense of dread trickling down his spine, and when he didn’t hear your sweet voice responding to his cautious calls of your name, he went into a full blown panic.

You were gone.

Year One.

This wasn’t happening again. It couldn’t be. There was no way he had survived losing Maria and the kids just to find you, to let your endless patience and irrevocable empathy fill the gaping void in his chest, only to lose you too. It had to be some kind of cruel joke. Frank didn’t consider himself a good man; he was well aware of and acquainted with his demons. But he didn’t deserve this.

Did he?

It was forty-eight hours before anyone even knew what happened. One giant asshole snapped his fingers, and half the universe’s population ceased to exist. Frank had stopped believing in God a lifetime ago, and he certainly didn’t believe in aliens or otherworldly creatures. He had seen first hand during his time in the Marines that mankind was the real monster. But it didn’t matter that he didn’t believe in it, because it happened, and not even the fucking Avengers could stop it. Hell, half of them were gone too.

Two weeks after the snap, news broke that Thanos had been killed, and that the Infinity Stones were destroyed, but the remaining members of the Avengers were trying to come up with a way to bring everyone back. For months Frank was glued to every news outlet, frantically waiting for even the smallest of updates. Anything was something. He refused to believe that the snap was permanent. The Avengers were going to find a way to bring everyone back. They had to.

Your pillowcase had stopped smelling like your shampoo, and Frank found himself using it and your body wash just to keep your scent on the sheets. He burned your favorite candles and read your favorite books. He wouldn’t stay gone longer than fifteen minutes in case you finally came home. He wanted to be there when you did. Frank kept himself busy with little projects around the house, things that you had mentioned changing or updating that he had promised he would get around to and never did. Frank swore to himself when you came home, things would be different.

He would take that trip you wanted to go on. He’d take you to the shelter to pick out a dog like you had been talking about. Maybe you two would finally start a family. Whatever you wanted, he’d give you. He’d find a way to give you the goddamn moon and every single star in the sky if you wanted them.

As soon as you came home.

But then a year went by, and nothing had changed. The anniversary of the snap came and went, and everyone seemed to give up hope on bringing everyone back, or they just decided to move on and accept that no one was coming back.

But Frank couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. He refused to believe you were really gone.

Year Two.

The worst part about the snap was that Frank couldn’t collect his vengeance in blood like he had with his family. The one who took you from him was already dead, and even if he hadn’t been, Frank had no way of reaching him. Thanos was a Titan, someone who was revered as a God to those that followed him, and Frank was just a man. A man poisoned with rage and an insatiable thirst for revenge. So, he did what he was good at. He punished. Even though half the universe’s population was gone, that didn’t mean there weren’t still monsters left on Earth.

Frank killed without mercy or prejudice. There was no sin too harmless for his wrath. His fists collided with skin and bone until there was nothing left but ivory fragments tainted crimson and torn flesh. He didn’t stop, not even when his destructive blows caused his own knuckles to crack. It had gotten to the point where he hardly reached for a gun anymore unless he absolutely had to. He preferred to use his hands or serrated steel. He wanted to inflict every ounce of pain that he felt inside on whoever was stupid enough to get in his way.

It was like he wasn’t even mentally present anymore. His conscience had been shut off somehow, and all that was left was a relentless killing machine. Whenever he ran out of targets in the city, he moved on to hunt in the next one, and the next one, and the next one. He lived primarily out of his van, or whatever dingy motel he came across on the road. He hadn’t stepped foot in your home in almost a year. He couldn’t. It was haunted by your memory, and he couldn’t desecrate the home you two had made together with what he had become.

You would be ashamed of him. You would be disgusted and horrified by the things he had done. That thought echoed in his head as he watched the water continue to run red while he stood under the weak spray of the shower head. He didn’t know what town or even what state he was in. He didn’t know what day of the week it was, or what month it was. He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were gone, and he had nothing left.

Nothing left but the white hot fury that infected his veins and had him seeking out blood like water in the desert.

Year Three.

Frank couldn’t visit you, not like he could Maria and the kids. He couldn’t even have the closure of burying you, because there wasn’t a body. There was no final resting place for you, and he didn’t think that was fucking fair. Today was your birthday, and Frank had been drowning himself in whiskey trying to dilute the painful memories that played in his head like a haunting home movie.

The angelic sound of your voice as you read him whatever book your nose was buried in that week, your fingers slipping through his dark tresses while he laid his head on your chest and listened in pure content. The feeling of your soft lips on his heated skin and delicate noises of pleasure as your bodies connected like they were made for each other. Your melodic laughter, the silkiness of your skin, slow dancing in the living room with the moon acting as a spotlight.

All the words he never said. All the promises he didn’t get to keep. All the dreams that wouldn’t come true.

Somehow Frank found himself in a church. He couldn’t remember the last time he stepped foot in one. Maybe it was Sunday school back when his parents still forced him to go. He had stumbled in, his heavy boots thudding along the aisle, the only other sound coming from the amber liquid sloshing around in the half empty bottle in his hand. He stopped when he got to the front, looking up at the stained glass depictions of angels, until his weary eyes landed on the savior that was nailed to the giant cross.

Frank glared at him for several minutes before hurling the half empty bottle right at the head of the statue, causing a firework explosion of shimmering shards of glass to rain over the altar and various candles that had been lit for loved ones that had passed on. His rough voice boomed throughout the empty space.

“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take me, huh? Why not me? She ain’t never done a goddamn thing wrong. I’m the one you want. I’m the one that deserves it. I’m the goddamn killer here, huh? I’m the fuckin’ Punisher. So you bring her back, and you take me!”

Frank started grabbing bibles from the pews and hurling them at the statue with all his strength. In his inebriated state, some of them flew right past the statue and knocked over other small figurines and candlesticks. He let out a guttural war cry every time he threw a new one, and by the time he ran out of steam, he was panting heavily, and tears had formed in his eyes.

Dropping to his knees, he looked up at the melancholic face of the statue that matched his own, and he did something he hadn’t done in years.

He prayed.

“Please. Please, just bring her back. I’ll take her place…I won’t fight…just…just bring her back. I’m beggin’ you…I’ll do whatever it takes, alright? Just…you can’t…you can’t do this to me again. You can’t. I may deserve it, but she don’t…okay so just…just…”

Frank was tired. Three years without you was too long. He hadn’t been able to find the peace that he had found after Maria and the kids. He spent a year waging war on everyone, and it did nothing. He spent the last few months drowning himself in booze, and it didn’t help. Nothing helped, and there was nothing to keep him going. You were gone, and you weren’t coming back, so what the hell was he still getting out of bed every morning for?

Reaching into the pocket of his coat, Frank pulled out a revolver and stared down at it. There was only one bullet in the chamber, and it wasn’t meant for anyone but him. If God wouldn’t bring you back, then he would go to you.

As soon as he cocked the hammer, a familiar voice sounded behind him.

“You don’t wanna do that, Frank.”

Turning his head to look over his shoulder, Frank squinted his blurry eyes before turning back around, shaking his head with a dry laugh.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me. Half the goddamn universe gets wiped out, and I get stuck with the fuckin’ altar boy.”

“Frank-”

“Mind your fuckin’ business, Red. Just cause there’s only one bullet in this chamber don’t mean I won’t handle your ass.”

Matt let out a deep exhale through his nose as he took a few cautious steps towards where Frank was on his knees in front of the altar.

“You’re drunk-”

“And you’re fuckin’ relentless. Go home.”

“Look, whoever you lost-”

“Whoever I lost? I lost everyone, Red!”

Matt didn’t flinch when Frank suddenly rose from his knees and stormed over towards him, his loud voice booming in the silence as they stood barely an inch apart. Matt cocked his head to the side slightly, his lips pursed as he grit his teeth.

“You think you’re the only one that’s lost everyone you’ve ever cared about, Frank?”

“Then what the hell are you waitin’ on, huh? You too much of a fuckin’ pussy to do it yourself, huh? That it? You need me to do it for you?”

Matt carefully reached out to place his hand on Frank’s arm, lowering the gun that was in his hand while he spoke in a calm voice.

“I don’t want to die, Frank. And I don’t think you want to either. You just want the pain to stop. But if you do this, it’s permanent, and you’ll never know if she came back.”

Frank shook his head and blew a puff of hot air out of his lips, his dark brows scrunching up in pure annoyance and frustration.

“She ain’t comin’ back-”

“You don’t know that. She’s not dead, Frank. She’s lost. Maybe she’s with Karen and Foggy. Frank, someone came down from another planet and wiped out half the universe. Is it so crazy to think that could be undone?”

The anger that was simmering inside Frank from Matt’s intrusion seemed to be burning through the alcohol in his system, and Matt’s question was igniting a tiny ember of hope that Frank wasn’t prepared to tend to. His body physically deflated as he dropped his head between his broad shoulders. There was a heavy tide of tears on his bottom lash line threatening to flood at any moment.

“Don’t do that.”

“You have to have faith, Frank-“

“I don’t, Red.”

“I do.”

Frank didn’t know when Matt managed to slip the revolver from his grasp, but he didn’t feel the weight of a permanent decision in his palm anymore. Matt had planted a tiny seed of hope, and what if’s were taking over Frank’s brain like wild ivy.

What if there was a chance you could come back? Matt had a point, you weren’t dead. Not really. Even if the probability of it happening was one in a million, didn’t Frank owe you the same unwavering patience you had always shown him?

“Look Frank, just…give me a year. One year to show you things can be different. If you still want to make that call in a year, I won’t stop you. I’ll leave you alone. But Frank…you’ve gotten through this once before. You can do this again. If not for yourself, just try for her.”

A year. A year was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Frank had already been without you for three years now.

What was one more?

Year Four.

Matt’s apartment was fucking obnoxious due to that goddamn billboard across the street, but it was better than the shitty motels Frank had been staying in. He still couldn’t step foot in the home he had shared with you. It had been three years now, and even though he wasn’t fully convinced you could come back, he couldn’t let it go. Everything that was you was there, and if he sold the house, that meant every trace of you and your existence was gone.

Matt had one rule for Frank staying with him; no killing. For a week, Frank lounged on the couch trying to figure out what to do with himself. He would start to read a book, but could never get more than a few pages because he remembered how much you loved to read, and then he would get stuck staring at the pages while memories of you played on loop in his head. There wasn’t a TV because Matt didn’t have use for one, and Frank didn’t care to watch anything anyway. It didn’t take long for Frank to go stir crazy. He had never been good at staying idle.

While Matt was out making the world a better place, Frank had managed to find a construction job. Busting down walls all day long allowed him to get his pent up anger out while not breaking Matt’s golden rule. Most days it felt like Frank was on autopilot. He woke up, went to the job site, smashed a sledgehammer through a wall until his hands bled, came home, tried to sleep, inevitably had a nightmare about losing you, and laid on the couch staring blankly up at the ceiling until the sun rose.

Every single day was a repeat of the last until they started to blur together. Frank didn’t speak to anyone at the job sites. He didn’t speak to anyone at all. Between Matt’s busy court schedule and his nightly patrols, they didn’t see each other often, and even when they were home at the same time, Frank still hardly spoke to him. He wasn’t sleeping, he barely ate, and on the days he had off, he didn’t leave the couch. He felt like a hollow shell of the man he used to be.

Matt knew what he was going through. Hell, he had been there himself after the second time he lost Elektra. He knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved most in this world, and that had happened to Frank twice now. He did his best to be patient, but after four months, he couldn’t take it anymore. Matt was fortunate that he’d had people that helped him combat his depression to find his way back to himself, but Frank didn’t have a soul in his corner.

Except for Matt.

And even though Frank wasn’t shy about not wanting Matt’s help, Matt didn’t care. Frank could be stubborn, but he didn’t have the energy or the drive to match Matt’s stubbornness, and Matt used that to his advantage. He was relentless in pushing Frank to participate in life again. He purposely antagonized Frank, even if it meant being reduced to a human punching bag, because that meant Frank was still in there somewhere.

Matt started small in getting him out of the apartment, like guilt tripping Frank into joining him on trips to the grocery store.

“You’re not gonna help your blind roommate get groceries? You know, a lot of items don’t come with braille labels. So when I die because I accidentally put bleach in my coffee instead of creamer, you have to say nice things about me at my funeral.”

“You don’t need labels, Red. You got that goddamn bloodhound nose. Would you stop lookin’ at me like that? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, fine. Get your fuckin’ jacket and let’s go.”

After a while, he even managed to get Frank to join him at Fogwell’s from time to time.

“No wonder you became a goddamn lawyer. All you know how to do is fuckin’ argue, makes sense you made a livin’ outta it.”

“I’m not arguing, Frank. If we got in the ring, you would lose. That’s a fact. You don’t know how to box, you just know how to run at people and slam them into things. And you’re too bulky to move as fast as me. None of that is an argument, it’s a simple observation.”

“Why don’t you observe your ass in that ring so I can shut you the fuck up, Red.”

The more time they spent together, and the more Frank put in an effort to move forward one step at a time, the less empty he felt. The nightmares still came every so often, and there were days where the weight of your absence was too much for him to bear, but for the first time in four years, he didn’t feel so hopeless.

He could think about you without breaking down. He could see something that reminded him of you, and it warmed his heart instead of ripping it out. He had finally reached a point where he had slowly crawled out of the deep pit of grief that he had been digging for the past four years.

As much as he hated to admit it, Matt had helped him find a semblance of peace.

Year Five.

The sound of a dog barking caught Frank’s attention. He pulled his head out from under the hood of his truck, looking over at the grey and white pitbull that was standing a few feet away from the front door of the house you and Frank had lived in together that he’d finally moved back into six months ago. He glanced between the front door and the dog with his thick brows furrowed.

“What is it, Daisy?”

The dog turned her head when she heard Frank’s voice, the movement so fast it made her long velvet ears flop. She turned her attention back to the door and continued to bark. Something inside had caught her attention. Eyeing the front door warily, Frank rubbed his grease stained hands off on a small rag and walked over towards where Daisy was, kneeling down beside her to gently scratch that spot between her ears that she loved.

“Hey, shh shh shh. C’mon now, what’s got you so worked up, huh? What do you think is inside, huh? You smellin’ that-”

The sound of the front door opening caught Frank’s attention, and he instantly snapped his head in the direction of it. All of a sudden, his warm brown eyes went wide, and time seemed to freeze in that very moment.

“Sweetheart?”

His quiet whisper was dripped in disbelief. There you were, looking exactly the same as the day you had vanished, looking between Frank and Daisy with an expression of surprise and perplexment.

“Frank?”

God, your voice. It had been five years since he had last heard it. That was all the confirmation he needed that this was real. You were real. You were really home.

Without wasting a second, Frank stood and ran over towards you, tears filling up his eyes as he wrapped his arms around your frame and hugged you as tightly as physically possible. His heart was thrashing against his ribcage, and he was terrified this was just a vivid dream, but then he inhaled the scent of your shampoo intermingled with your perfume, felt your hands gently pressing against his back, and heard your soft angelic laughter.

“Frankie…baby…you’re crushing me.”

Frank pulled back only slightly, bringing his large hands up to cup your face to study your features, taking in every single inch of you. He caught the way you frowned softly, looking up at him in pure concern when thick tears streamed down his cheeks. You lifted your hand to delicately brush them away with the featherlight touch of your fingers.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“You’re really here.”

“Of course I’m here. Where else would I be? Baby, why are you so upset?”

As you ran your hands through his long grown out curls, a crease of bewilderment nestled in between your brows when you took in his appearance.

“Wait…what happened to your hair? It was just short five seconds ago…and you didn’t have a beard. How…how did you do that? And when did we get a dog? Frank, what-”

Five seconds ago.

Is that all it was for you? Frank could see the visible disorientation on your delicate features, and he had a lot of questions of his own, but right now nothing mattered but you. He leaned in and captured your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every emotion he had felt in the past five years into it. He kissed you like the world could end at any moment, because for him it did the day you vanished.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours and let out a deep exhale of relief.

“You…you were gone, sweetheart. You were gone a long time…a long goddamn time.”

“Gone? What-”

“I’ll explain everythin’, I promise. Just…just give me a minute, please. Just let me hold you for a minute, can you do that for me, baby? Please?”

Frank had always been able to read you like a book, and he could tell by the look in your eyes that you weren’t just confused. Hearing you had been gone for a long time infused you with a sense of panic and uncertainty. But you trusted Frank, and you knew whatever hard truth he was going to tell you, he wouldn’t let you go through it alone.

“Okay.”

As Frank embraced you again, you suddenly felt a pair of paws on your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the happy dog wagging its tail while looking between you and Frank. Reaching down, you gently pet the side of her face with a soft smile.

“Hi there, precious.”

“Daisy.”

Glancing up at Frank, your lips parted slightly when Frank told you her name. A soft smile covered his lips, the first smile to do so in five years. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear slowly.

“You always said if we got a dog and it was a girl, you wanted to name her Daisy.”

Tears welled up along your bottom lash line as you looked up at Frank, a gentle smile covering your lips. After a moment, you glanced away from Frank to look at Daisy again, letting out a soft laugh.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Daisy.”

Frank gave your waist a light squeeze, leaning in to press a soft lingering kiss to your cheek.

“And we’ve been waitin’ a long time for you. Welcome home, sweetheart.”

tags: @day-dreaming-goddess @kdogreads @heimtathurs @mars-rants-a-lot @casa-boiardi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @hazallem @avencol @neverlandcity @charmedkim @queenofthenoobs @stilldreaming666 @mattymurdock1021 @bubuslutty @ninejlovebot @purrrfect @pennylovey @firesunflamed @oscarisaacsleftknee @ameliaswife @Vane28282 @kmc1989 @messymissy @dark-academia-slut @strawberry1042 @utterlynuts

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle request #frank castle fic #the punisher #the punisher request #the punisher fic #matt murdock #daredevil

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f1version · 1 year

Text

OUR FAMILY ★ CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x no-social!reader

summary: Charles does another update on your relationship, you’re now married but with a bigger family.

note: am i actually posting twice today? yes. also this is a part two to this

charlesleclerc

Liked by sebastianvettel, arthur_leclerc and 3,976,523 others

charlesleclerc A year ago today, my heart became full. All I ever wanted was to become a reality, my beautiful wife told me I was going to be a father. Months later, she gave birth to the most beautiful baby ever. And after a year of craziness, here are some photos of our journey.

First I want to address something: Yes, we have a daughter, but Y/n and I have decided not to expose her for now, her name will remain between our close ones, her face too. I hope you can respect this, and even have a good time trying to guess her name. (No, she’s not called Joris, Perrine, Max, Maxine, or anything like that) (They tried)

Now, I wanted to take a moment to show my love and gratitude for my wife. Y/n, I’m so in love with you, thank you for choosing me to start a family, start this never ending journey. You are the whole universe, the stars, the planets, there’s no one else I would rather share this moments with. Thank you for letting me be me, for listening to me, advocating for me, loving me, for letting me be vulnerable, for being there regardless if there was happiness, sadness, or madness. You made me believe that love truly conquers all things, you made me surrender to love. Thank you for giving me another little person to love. This is our family and it always will be, no matter what.

Finally, my daughter. Mon amour, mon trésor, you have brought light into our lives, our happiness multiplied because of you. And even if you won’t read this because you are months old, I want to express how much you made me fall in love with life. I can’t wait to see you grow, to see you find your path in life, to see you achieve the impossible. I can’t wait to see you make a name of your own. I hope we have until the end of time to live as father and daughter, to share moments together with your mother. We love you, mon amour, I hope I can be enough for you.

Charles Leclerc,

Husband, and father.

view all comments

arthur_leclerc I’m officially an uncle, this is amazing.

lorenzotl Yes but are you the best one?

charlesleclerc Oh no

sebastianvettel So happy of you, you’ll be an amazing father! ❤️

charlesleclerc Danke Seb ❤️

alexalbon i’m not crying

charlesleclerc I said the same thing

andferrari007 A little angel

charlesleclerc SHE IS. SHE REALLY IS

mickschumacher She’s so beautiful!! 💙

charlesleclerc Thank you, Mick ❤️❤️

landonorris sometimes i wish i was y/n

danielricciardo lando what 😭

danielricciardo MINI CHARLES

charlesleclerc mini y/n*

joris__trouche she literally is your copy stfu

charlesleclerc ok AGGRESSIVE

lewishamilton Congratulations father Charles!!

charlesleclerc Thank youuuuuuuu ❤️

maxverstappen1 she’s literally called maxine leclerc guys, don’t trust him

pierregasly shut up max she’s obviously not.

maxverstappen1 you’re just jealous

pierregasly i’m just being honest

charlesleclerc can you guys STOP they are going to start believing this is true

joris__trouche That kid is my favorite thing you’ve done

charlesleclerc I have no idea how to feel about this because she is, but I also think that’s supposed to be an insult so ouch ???

"Our Family" Instagram highlights

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spncvr · 27 days

Note

could you write something with spencer and childhood bestfriedn to lovers?? haven't seen you write angst! but ik it'll be good 🤣❤️

glorious | s. reid

summary: leaving spencer isn't easy

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: angst? and, again, english isnt my first languageLMAO its also too late to be writing so i hope this makes sense

a/n: IVE BEEN WAAAIIITTTINGGG FOR ANGST REQS this is so bad thp girl (gender neutral) im sorry i didn't do u justice

masterlist

YOU LOVE THE darkness.

There, you feel as though you hold the entire world in your grasp. The light, however, falters under your grasp, almost as if it’s causing itself pain by being in between your fingers. You can’t help but think that it’s almost like yourself, loud and bold (maybe, you think humorously, that’s why you’re not particularly fond of it). The light is chaotic, boisterous, and overwhelming, and it burns out your mind and soul.

The dark is a contrast to the light in every way. It is solitary, silent, and careful in its movements against your skin. You feel a sense of power amidst it, as though you can control it with the mere flick of your wrist. The darkness brings a sense of contentment to you, as if you belong there, among its shadows and stillness. You revel in the power and peace that the darkness brings you, and for a moment, everything feels just right.

The wind dances around you, a melodic tune that you can never quite decipher. It hums on your cheek and creates an illusion of harmony in the bustling city that you know isn’t really there. It is akin to light, even in the darkness. Everyone is constantly bumping into someone, everyone’s always got somewhere to be. Because the city lives and breathes in constant distress; so much so that nobody seems to notice how the sky shifts from a light blue to a tranquil orange and then to darkness, even if the city never truly gets dark. There are always lights, stars, and the sounds of nightlife and parties that can last until dawn. Despite your disdain for the city and the way it makes you feel, you can’t help but smile as you study it from afar. Perhaps it’s the allure of the city’s chaos that keeps you here, or maybe it’s the thought of what you could make of yourself in the midst of it all—but that didn’t matter, not anymore.

You’ve always promised yourself when you were younger that you’d leave.

One day, you had whispered to yourself in the darkness, when you were six, your favourite stuffed animal tightly tucked between your arms, one day, we’ll go away. You can’t remember whatever caused you to tell yourself this at such a young age. You think it was probably something silly—a classmate’s admonition that some activities were simply reserved for boys. Or maybe it was because your parents had refused to let you get ice cream after you’d finished all of your green vegetables (all that suffering for nothing, really). But the mindset had continued to stick in your mind; an ember of determination that refused to fade away.

One day, you say again, when you’re thirteen because your teacher had failed you in your first ever physics exam, one day this won’t matter. We’ll go. We’ll leave. You say it so firmly and so surely that it scares you sometimes. Because, really, you’ve never been anywhere but here—so you ask yourself: What if it’s just the same? What if it’s just as bad?

One day, you say again, when you’re seventeen because you have been looking at universities far off and away from your city far away from the constant distress it emits. You’d stare at the campus pictures on the website and study the student’s bright wide smiles, and sometimes, you’d picture yourself in those hallways, with a group of new friends—you’d be the smart, and the witty one. You’d laugh a little harder, and smile a little brighter. One day, We’ll be there. Anytime soon.

“What are you smiling about?” his voice pulls you out of your small reverie. He looks good in the darkness. Specifically this kind of darkness, one that isn’t just quite completely dark. You find that kind of darkness here, where you could see the entire city live and breathe, where you could see some underlying beauty within the city.

You offer a meek shrug, eyes never leaving the city, “It just— feels so real now, no?”

He rests his chin on one of his bent knees, sighing. “It’s always been real. You’ve wanted to leave this city forever.”

“Well,” you exhale, “I didn’t expect to leave so soon. I always thought maybe I’d stay in this city a little longer. I don’t know.”

“With me?”

You frown at him slightly at the question. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“For me?”

The question is cruel. You don’t need him to make you question yourself because you have spent your entire life yearning for nothing more than to go and leave. You hate him for it, kind of. Because really, what did he expect you to do? Stop everything, and stay with him; for him? I’ve got dreams too, damn it, you want to yell at him, scream at him, I’ve spent my entire life hating nothing more than the god-damn fucking city, and you’re here to mess all of it up. “For me?” Yes. Yes FOR you. Everything’s FOR you!

You can’t dispute the truth, though. Yes, you’d stay with him. For him. Whatever.

Yet as you sit with him by your side and gaze out over the city, you suddenly realise —almost as if you had never thought about it before—that leaving this city meant leaving him as well. The very notion of leaving him felt so alien to your mind. Somehow, you had subconsciously imagined that you’d be going away with him —it’s always been one day we’ll leave, we’ll go— besides, you’ve always known Spencer. In a way, he was like… God, you can’t even say it. You just needed to leave. You can’t look at him when you answer a soft: “Yes. Yes, for you.”

i have like a pt. 2 of this but i hate it so heres a cliff hanger LMAOAIOSVUSBD

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jobean12-blog · 3 months

Text

Nestled

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (A/B/O AU)

Word Count: 1,245

Summary: Joel's been away taking care of things and when he returns it's impossible to hide how much you've missed him.

Author's Note: This is my first ever A/B/O fic and it's for my lovely friend Suz's @targaryenvampireslayer Blind Date Writing Challenge! The trope I got was A/B/O and my dialogue prompt is bolded in the story! I want to give special thanks to my sweet friend Eva @biteofcherry for looking this over for me and helping me navigate this universe. She has the most amazing A/B/O AU with Ari that you can read HERE! Thank you all so much for reading and much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the awesome @firefly-in-darkness thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: lots of soft sweet fluffiness, alpha!Joel has a dominant edge but he's soft and sexy for his omgea, finger-ing, ora-l (f rec)

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

The softness of his shirt feels perfect against your sensitive skin and as you cuddle the fabric you fall deeper into the cocoon of his scent, surrounded by the warmth of your blankets and pillows.

The dainty string of fairy lights glows softly against the backdrop of darkness that filters in through the large windows but even with their light the stars in the sky shine more brightly, twinkling like diamonds.

You sigh and fight the heavy feel of your eyelids as they press closed. He should be home soon and you want to be awake. Want to see him. Want to feel him. You need him.

With the last lingering thoughts of his touch your breathing starts to even out but just before you succumb to sleep your body starts to thrum with awareness and you know he’s back.

You sit up and stretch just as he appears in the doorway, filling the space with his broad shoulders.

“Joel,” you whisper.

He walks toward you with even and purposeful steps, stopping just outside your nesting space. He smiles with admiration and love at what you’ve created and when his eyes meet yours you see it there and it fills your heart up.

“Darlin’,” he coos before he bends down and climbs in next to you, taking note of his shirt draped over your otherwise bare skin with a pleased hum.

You curl into his embrace and purr as he nuzzles your neck and inhales your scent. He rubs his nose along your jaw, following with butterfly kisses until he finds your lips and seals them with his.

When he pulls away your eyes are still closed and your lips are curved into a satisfied smile.

“Look at me darlin’.”

Your eyelids slowly flutter open and meet his gaze.

“Have you been takin’ care of yourself while I was gone?”

You nod. “Mm hm. Just like you told me.”

He gives you an approving smile and cradles your cheek in one large hand, brushing his thumb gently across your skin.

“That’s my good girl.”

You preen under his praise, your skin heating and tingles running down your spine.

He cradles you against his chest as his hands slide over your curves and his fingers slip under the hem of his shirt.

You burrow to him, kissing his neck and loving the feel of the scruffy hair lining his skin and humming as his scent envelopes you in a feeling of safety and love. With your head resting against his shoulder you look up into the night sky and follow the path of a shooting star.

“They’re so beautiful,” you whisper.

“Hm?” he murmurs and you turn your face to his. He’s staring. At you.

“The stars…they’re beautiful.”

His eyes never move from your face.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he says quietly.

“I missed you Joel.”

His fingertips graze the soft skin of your stomach before sliding lower and teasing your thigh.

Your arousal spikes the air and he growls low and deep.

“I know,” he groans as your sweet scent wafts up to his nose.

He pushes you down until you’re spread out beneath him and with gentle hands he lifts his shirt up and off your body.

“I can’t wait to devour you my sweet omega. It’s all I could think about.”

His dark eyes fall to your knees and he wedges his hand between them to spread you open. The heat of his skin matches yours as he skims his calloused fingers down the curve of your leg and his warm breath caresses your cheek.

“Mm…,” he hums. “Smell so good darlin.’ Sweet as sugar.”

Those long fingers move lower and brush through the slickness between your thighs. You shiver and squirm even at the lightest touch, clutching his thick wrist and urging him closer. When his lips ghost along the shell of your ear you whimper his name and arch your back, letting your legs fall open wider.

“You seem more sensitive than usual,” he murmurs, relishing the way you come alive beneath him.

“Missed you so much alpha. Need you. Please.”

His scent fills the space, strong and musky like the woods after a rain and you feel it everywhere. You thread your fingers through his dark curls as he rubs your noses together.

Your hands fumble to find the buttons of his shirt as you slide them along his chest but when his eyes meet yours you stop and heed the silent warning they hold.

“I’m going to give you what you need darlin.’ Everythin’ you need.”

Soft lips press to your neck, following the delicate curve before sweeping across your shoulder and leaving goosebumps all along your kissed skin.

His touch between your legs is still soft and teasing, making you shake with want.

“Please,” you beg.

A satisfied hum rumbles through his chest as he slips a single thick finger inside you, pumping it slowly in and out. Every stroke brings you closer to the edge and when your lips part and you plead for more he adds a second finger, stretching you just right.

“You’re dripping for me darlin’,” he growls. “I need to taste you.”

He moves lower and splays his free hand on your lower belly, pinning you down. The first sweep of his tongue is all it takes to have you choking on the scream in your throat.

Every lick and suck is deliberately torturous, sweet and languid, drawing out your bliss.

You chant his name and his silky hair slips through your fingers, gasping as the sensations become too much and you shatter apart.

He waits for your breathing to calm with tender kisses and soft licks then his hands move higher, his lips following until he’s cradling you protectively in his arms and whispering sweet praises in your ear.

You tilt your head back, stretching your throat out for the delicate nip of his teeth. He holds you down beneath him, your fingernails dancing over his taut skin as his muscles flex with his barely controlled restraint.

His nose skims along your skin then his lips soothe the spot on your neck where he previously nibbled before he does it all over again.

“Please alpha,” you whine, feeling a new wave of slickness coat your thighs.

He sinks his teeth into your throat and you let out a cry of pleasure, clinging to his shoulders and wrapping your legs around his waist.

His tongue slides over the bite and he rolls his hips, still fully clothed, and the friction between your thighs makes you purr in pleasure.

“You’re wearing too many clothes Joel.”

Your soft reprimand has him kissing you breathless and when he releases you for air he sits up and starts to unbutton his shirt.

With a gentle touch you stop the action. “Let me. Please?” you ask sweetly.

He relents and shifts so you can work your hands along the closed buttons, slowly revealing more of his warm skin.

“I love you,” he says just as your fingertips brush the fabric from his shoulders. “My omega. Mine. All mine.”

Your lips press to the spot over this heart, its beat steady and strong under your kiss. He wraps his hand around your wrist and lifts your fingers to his lips, pressing a kiss to the tip of each before guiding you to the button of his jeans.

“I love you too,” you whisper. “And I’m yours. All yours.”

@blackwidownat2814 @lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @lizette50 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #alpha!joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #a/b/o au #suzsblinddatechallenge

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 1 month

Text

How The Movie Night Went (18+)

Fortnite!Raphael x reader

A/N: Another short blurb like thingy I just had to do❤️

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Rough sex, doggy style, unprotected sex, back shots.

It had started off like any other movie night for you and your boyfriend. You and Raph had decided to start watching a series together, and this time you would actually watch it, and not get caught up in any other activities. Well, that’s at least what the two of you have been saying for a while now. But each and every time, you and Raph would end up doing… other things. And those things would usually involve Netflix asking if the two of you were still watching, while you had either one of your openings stuffed, or Raph’s lips locked somewhere on you. And today… was no different.

The series you and Raph had wanted to watch together was playing in the background, with an important scene taking place. A tense showdown, the protagonist having a meeting with their enemy, tension slowly rising before the inevitable climax. But neither you or Raph was keeping an eye on it. In fact, it had very quickly turned into background noise to the activities you and your turtle boyfriend had gotten up to. To be honest, you couldn’t even hear what was going on on the screen, due to Raph’s heavy grunts and growls, and the echoing slaps from his skin meeting the back of your thighs.

You yelped as Raph’s three fingered hand came down on your right butt cheek, watching it jiggle before grabbing on with both hands, pulling you back on his as he increased the speed of his hips.

You cried out, resting your forehead against the soft surface of the couch, once again thanking the universe that Raph’s family wasn’t home, allowing you to be as loud as you wanted to. And Raph loves when you’re loud, his body reacting to it instantly, his speed increasing even further.

Moans left your lips as one of your hands slided down between your legs, finding your bundle of nerves, being wet from both you and Raph’s slick that had dripped down over it, using it to lubricate your fingers, rubbing them in circles over you. Raph saw you move your hand over you, and felt your walls close in around him, sending a low groan out with his deep churrs, his hips buckling against you from behind.

“Fuck yeah, babe”, he moaned, catching your eyes as you looked at him over your shoulder, your cheeks flushed and our mouth agape. “Rub yourself for me. Fucking cum on my dick”, he continued, before planting another slap to your butt cheek, the loud sound piercing through the empty lair.

“Raph! Babe!”, you called out, feeling tears of pleasure forming in your eyes, at the stinging yet pleasurable sensation on your soft flesh.

There sounded loud yells and screams from the tv screen, but neither you or Raph gave it a second thought. Instead Raph lifted his left knee, putting the weight on his foot instead, giving him another angle to plow into you with. You cried out once more, your back arching upwards, and your fingers stopping momentarily. Raph leaned over you, his plastron resting against your back, while one of his hands moved from your hips, up your sides and under your shirt, grabbing your breast in his fist. You felt his breath against the shell of your ear, slowly bringing life to your fingers once again. Raph chuckled.

“Do you love my dick, babe?”, he asked, amusement thick in his voice. “Do you love it when I fuck you stupid? Do you love it when I take you on the couch while no one is here, huh, (Y/N)?”

“Yes, Raph!”, you cried out, your fingers working just as fast as his thrusting member, both bringing immense pleasure, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You let out a desperate cry, letting Raph know that you were close. So damn close that you almost were going crazy.

“I’m going to make you cum so hard”, Raph mumbeled, before straightening back up, placing both hands back on your hips, going to town on you with all the power his strong body could muster.

You saw stars before your eyes, as Raph assaulted your g-spot over and over again, pushing you over the edge and into the ocean of pleasure that was your orgasm. Your body contorted under Raph, with the hand you hand used on yourself, instinctively reaching for Raph behind you. He held onto your hand, feeling his own high rabbitly appearance with the clenching of your walls around him, your juices gushing down his member. He felt the tightening of his muscles behind his cloaca, quickly pulling out of you, before resting himself between your cheeks, right before your lower back. With small grunts, Raph came onto your back side, closing his eyes as he emptied himself onto you, letting him run down the curve of your back, pooling at your spine.

Slowly coming down from your highs, panting as you opened your eyes, you were met with a very familiar message from Netflix on the tv screen; “Are you still watching?” Once again, you and Raph had failed to watch the damn show, creating a mess of your backside like all of the other times. Guess movie nights were just bound to fail for the two of you - just like you both secretly wanted it to.

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providencehq · 1 year

Note

If you're still taking requests, could you possibly do more of the Non Shrike AU Danny Phantom thing? (PS LOVE YOUR ART ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️)

Yea dw dw! I'm still taking requests! Thanks for the ask! And thank you for liking my art ahh!!!!!

Danny's first appearance as Phantom to the wider public over in Central City where he gets control over Ember. At first it was assumed he was a Super but that was quickly disregarded simply by the lack of association/symbol identifier and power set. Like how wild would it be to have some random villain no one has seen before wreck half the city with no way to stop them and a new hero come in and easily stop her when some of the top heroes couldn't.

Here is also Flash freaking because of a new hero as he was the first hero to actually see/interact with Phantom.

Also I still have no idea what to call this au so it's still going to be non shrike au till I figure it out, but thank you aus because that means slightly different designs and headcanons to incorporate! This AU takes place when the trio is all in college, nearing the end of their studies. Danny is majoring in Physics with duel minors in inorganic chemistry and maths over at Central City University. He's mostly living on his own without much help other than from Sam. Between breaks or semesters, Danny interns over at S.T.A.R. labs. Also because I can, Danny has faint lichtenberg scars on one side of his body that are now pretty hard to notice. He loses most of the playfulness with his fights as he gets older because he has things to do and the whole hero thing is just kinda a side gig at this point.

Even though they're apart, Sam, Tucker, and Danny all remain close. Sam ends up going to a different university, Gotham University specifically to study animal sciences. She works with wildlife rehabilitation centers or animal rescues throughout the town and donates to them. Tucker ends up at Star City University studying engineering with a minor in history, taking up a part time job to help manage the uni's computer labs.

#mine #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp #dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #dp crossover #sam manson #tucker foley #non shrike au #also please note in every au danny is roma specifically didicoy #also the trio is all trans because i said so #my art #ask #ALSO THANK YOU!!#power house au

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myteavsricochet · 4 months

Text

Favorite firstprince fanfics, an incomplete list:

One shots:

All the Stars We Steal From the Night Sky :

Alex is quiet, and something is wrong.

Or, Alex struggles with emotions and Henry is there to help.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically Just Them Being Soft, Alex is struggling, Henry helps)

In His Wildest Dreams

Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. Pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process.

(Please, look at the tags carefully, this fic is very soft, very hot and very consensual but may not be for everyone: Consensual somnophilia, Kink exploration, Porn with feelings, Smut)

5 times Alex called Henry baby ‘casually’ and 1 time it was (definitely) because of love

How did “baby” become a thing in the film universe? When did it become a thing in the film universe? Fine, I’ll answer these questions myself.

(Additional Tags: Overuse of the word "baby", Pet Names, Fluff, Angst, 5+1 Things, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort)

Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

Alex has always been too much. Objectively, he knows this. He talks too much, his volume is too much, and the fire under his ass is too much. So, when he’d met Henry, when he hadn’t cared about Henry’s opinion and had been his real, authentic, annoying self, and Henry had liked him anyway? It was something Alex struggled to wrap his head around. It started in kindergarten.

Or: A look at Alex's childhood and how hard it is always being the too-much person in any given room.

(Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Childhood, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, So much comfort)

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces

Oscar gets in close and bluntly asks, “Earlier. In the bathroom. Did you do it?”

Alex scoffs, “No. Don't be a perv. Why would you wanna know that anyway?”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Mind out of the gutter, chamaco. Did you propose?”

Ah.

Henry is introduced to the extended Diaz side of the family at their matriarch's birthday. Shenanigans (and romance and feelings) ensue.

(This fic is absolutely amazing ❤️

Additional Tags: Humor, Fluff, Family Fluff, Pre-Engagement, Mexican-American Culture, Mexican OC's galore, Drinking, Family Bonding, Karaoke, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Alex Claremont-Diaz Speaks Spanish)

Forty-Four Days

"God, I haven't seen you in forty-four days," Alex suddenly spits, and Henry feels the pain of his words in his own chest, like ice replacing the blood in his veins. Because that's it, isn't it? Forty-four days of separation. Forty-four days of waking up to an empty bed, of making coffee along with his tea only to realize that Alex isn't there to drink it, of long meetings without any of Alex's witty jokes, of cold hands on chilly autumn walks because Alex isn't there to warm them up.

Maybe it's the simple fact of hearing for the first time, or maybe it's the tipping point of the taxing day, but Henry feels something inside of him snap, and —

And all he knows is that he needs to see Alex now.

(Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Separations, Separation Anxiety, Late Night Conversations, Minor Character Death, but it's nothing to worry about I PROMISE, Reunions, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Mild Sexual Content, they love and miss each other, that's the plot, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

A Mind That Never Sleeps

Five times Alex stays awake with Henry, and the one time he coaxes him back to sleep.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Insomnia, Sleepless nights, Piano, Weddings, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, that's really all this is, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

talk too much

Alex has his wisdom teeth removed and Henry takes care of him, fluff ensues

(Additional Tags: wisdom teeth removal, not bloody or graphic, just fluff, pure fluff, No Angst, Henry Pov, firstprince, living in the brownstone, FLUFF I TELL YOU, Henry taking care of Alex, and Alex taking care of Henry too hehe, You’ll see)

silk and steel

Thanks to a welcome day off, Henry and Alex spend a lazy morning in bed. Soft, mid-morning cuddles escalate into semi-soft, mid-morning sex.

(Addictional tags: Morning cuddles, Morning sex, Body worship, Light dom/sub, Praise kink, Established relationship, Top Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Bottom Alex Claremont Diaz)

I don't wanna dance, if I'm not dancing with you

"You want me at a ball?"

"I want you with me as often as possible," Henry says, immediately, as if it's obvious. Maybe it is. "But yes, it would be nice to have you there. I'm not necessarily actively trying to anger my grandmother, which you being there might, but... Well, she hasn't exactly extended an invitation but I have just as much right as anyone to bring a date and--"

"Baby." Henry's rambling stops short on what nearly sounds like a gasp, and Alex grins to himself. Sometimes, his boyfriend is too easy. "Do you want me there?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be there."

----

or, Henry wants Alex at a ball and Alex is anxious about it.

(Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Ballroom Dancing, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Hurt/Comfort)

If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me, You’ll Be the First Who Ever Did

Henry feels himself aching for Alex—this Alex, the one who’s at home in Texas, the one who’s vulnerable and free—and he sees the ache reflected in Alex’s eyes.

The first night they spend at the lake house, before Alex wakes up with Henry's swimsuit tangled around his elbow.

(Additional Tags: Emotions, Anal Sex, Bottom Henry, alex calling henry baby, henry calling alex love, Boys In Love, Porn with Feelings, Henry Pov, so it's a wee bit angsty)

love dares you, to change our way of caring about ourselves

Henry has read it all: fairy-tales of princes and their courters, unsung histories of kings and their secret lovers, and he has read all their happy endings. But he is not a prince in a fairy-tale, and he has always thought his own secret love story was likelier to end in tragedy.

Perhaps it’s time that changed.

(Or, Henry’s POV the morning after The Great Claremont-Diaz Ambush at Kensington Palace)

Let Me Hold Your Head in My Hands

Alex has a migraine.

Henry takes care of him.

(Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, Boys In Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Idiots in Love, Headaches & Migraines, Tooth-Rotting Fluff,Domestic Fluff, Bathtubs)

you would not believe your eyes (if ten million fireflies)

Alex and Henry are staying at Alex’s house in Texas. Henry has never seen fireflies before, and Alex can’t let him get away without the experience of catching one.

Or,

Alex is helplessly in love with Henry.

(Additional Tags: Fluff, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Summer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, firefly catching, Fireflies, Lightning bugs, Texas)

Promises, Promises.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes again.

The corner of Henry’s mouth does the thing it does. His walls are back up.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he mutters, before turning on his heel and marching down the hall.

——

Alex has never felt so horrible. And 3 days is a long time.

(Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Fights, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Stressed Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Anxiety, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Abandonment Issues, Leaving Home)

The Red Side Goes Up

Henry brings home a little something new to try in the bedroom. Or: The One Where Alex Gets Jealous of a Butt Plug.

(Additional Tags: Smut, Rimming, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Post-Canon)

(all of me changed like) midnight rain

“They’re fighting again,” he whispers instead. Henry’s eyes are sad.

“I know, love.”

Or, 5 times Alex believes his relationship with Henry won't last, and 1 time he knows it will.

Or, 5 times Alex doesn't believe in love because of his parents and 1 time Henry proves him wrong.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Canonical Divorce, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Song: Midnight Rain (Taylor Swift), Depression, References to Depression)

We'll Get Together Then

5+1 times Oscar was a good dad to Henry (ft. Abuelo Oscar)

(Additional Tags: Henry and Oscar bonding, 5+1 Things, I have Feelings about their relationship, Arthur's death is mentioned)

The Bet

Looking back at it, it's all Nora's fault.

Or, the time Henry and Alex bet on who can last the longest without sex.

(Additional Tags: Bets & Wagers, No sex bet, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but it gets resolved eventually, Wet Dream, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Porn With Plot, like it kind of has a plot, Mostly just porn though, Kissing, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Riding, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Switching, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

What Kind of Day Has It Been

Even after thirty-odd years of being together (twenty-five of those married) Henry still has to drag Alex away from his desk and up to bed. Even just a few days after routine surgery Alex can't help himself.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Kissing, Married Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

take a bite, babe

And, well, Henry can no longer lie to himself. He couldn’t be more in love with Alex if he tried.

Or: five moments Henry notices Alex’s eyelashes (and falls a little more in love).

I miss you, i'm sorry

"I—I’m killing myself trying to make this work, trying to make both you and my family happy, living on planes, and it’s still not enough for you? I don’t know what else to do.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s so hard for you to be with me,” Alex says bitterly, wiping furiously at his eyes and refusing to meet Henry’s.

"Alex—"

“No,” Alex interrupts angrily, “get it off your chest! I can’t wait to hear all about how much work I am to be with. You know what, if you’re just gonna leave me again then you might as well go ahead and do it now. Save us both the hurt.”

Or: the fight.

(Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Fighting, Healthy Relationships, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Comfort, Healthy Conflict Resolution, Conflict Resolution)

Too Much

Okay, so maybe Alex talked too much for them. It was fine. He could still sit with them at lunch, he just had to make sure not to talk so much. Just listen to them. He could do that.

The next day, and the day after, Alex sat with the same group of kids. Only, he no longer went on rants about movies or books or what he saw on the news that morning or what his parents talked/argued over at dinner.

Alex stayed silent, desperate to not be too much.

***

OR 5 times the people in Alex's life thought that he was too much + one time Henry assured him that he wasn't.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Projecting, author's first fic)

the common tongue of you loving me

Where did kissing come from? Henry has always wondered. Why kisses? At the beginning of history, which long forgotten person, which ancestor of all mankind, was the first to press their lips to another’s in a declaration of their love?

Was it a lover, perhaps, so consumed with devotion that they sought to use lips as well as fingertips? All followed the base urge of their bodies — the innate knowledge that the pressing of lips was the highest form of touch. But no one knows why.

Except when Alex quirks his cupid’s bow, licks into Henry’s mouth and lets his bottom lip rest on Henry’s, and oh. Henry knows.

(Additional Tags: Kissing, henry has so many feelings about kissing, Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, Frottage)

All Your Closets Of Backlogged Dreams

It’s not that the loss of the President’s oldest child is a secret. It’s just that nobody talks much about the death of Catalina June Claremont-Diaz.

It takes Alex years before he talks to Henry about her.

(The painful story no one asked for that ties June into the movie.)

(Additional Tags: Past Character Death, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD)

i'm so in love (i might stop breathing)

He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, eyes half-lidded as he looks at Alex. He rests his head on Alex's chest, tightening his arms. Alex can see the tips of his ears turning pink.

"It's ! H G E J F M W C D 2 4 !" he mumbles in embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of Alex's neck again. A beat of silence.

Then, almost shouting in joy, Alex yells, "Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor- Claremont-Diaz! That's your fucking password?"

"Shut up!" Henry hisses and Alex feels so many butterflies in his stomach that he's going to throw himself off of a cliff. Really, teenage girls with celebrity crushes have nothing on him at this moment.

or,

Henry is drunk and Alex is so in love he could die.

(being with you) makes the flame burn good

“Ah, would you look at that,” Alex says hoarsely, breaking the kiss, “Looks like you got a bit of batter on your neck.”

He lowers his head and licks a stripe up Henry's neck until his tongue reaches the spot below his ear and Henry shudders slightly in his arms.

“Tastes so good, baby,” Alex teases and fits his thigh between Henry's legs, feeling how hard he is and how immediately he grinds against Alex's body, searching for any form of relief.

“Oh, piss off,” Henry breathes and tangles his hands in Alex's curls, fisting his hand lightly and moving his hips a little faster.

(Additional Tags: Married Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Kitchen Sex, Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Laughter During Sex, Body Worship, Sort Of, Hickeys, Begging, Praise Kink, Nipple Play, surprisingly there's NO food play in this, Dom Alex, Sub Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

we thought we ruled the world

Alex stares down at his latest text from Henry. A link to an article he’s seen about ten versions of so far. He’s managed to resist clicking on any of them, but now Henry is sending it, so he supposes he should at least give it a skim.

How Prince Henry’s Relationship With FSOTUS Lost Ellen Claremont The Election

............

Or, what would have happened if Ellen lost.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, mostly happy at least)

pictures of you

Henry has seen photos of Alex before, of Alex’s easy grin and disarming smirk, wild curls awry and lean muscles on casually stretched biceps. He’s seen countless photos of him before.

But.

Alex has never sent him a photo before. Not like this.

---

Five times Alex sends Henry a selfie from bed (+ one time Henry sends him one)

the dresden dilemma

The Crown had expectations when it sent a member of the royal family abroad but after a handful of years navigating said expectations, Alex and Henry had become adept at circumventing them when possible. Like tonight: They were supposed to be in Berlin for the weekend, but after a bit of needling and a lot of promises to behave, Alex had convinced Shaan to arrange for them to spend at least one night outside of the city.

Dresden, Alex had argued, was close enough to Berlin that they weren't really disobeying the Crown and besides, what harm could a single night in Dresden do?

(Additional Tags: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Established Relationship, Alex Claremont-Diaz has Trauma, cause he's an american kid and who doesn't, or at least he thought, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Fireworks, School Shootings, implied/referenced anyway, Guns)

the clementine thing

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company.

Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him.

Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor

(This is one of my favorites, please read this ❤️)

In the Low Lamp Light, I Was Free

“You wanna go again?” Alex asks, pressing the back of his head into the pillows, offering his throat more fully to Henry’s hungry mouth, and when Henry laughs and retrieves another condom and the little bottle of lube from his toiletry bag, he adds, “I had a thought, though. I thought, maybe… you could be inside me this time.”

(Movieverse; there were two condom wrappers on the floor in Paris.)

he is exactly the poem i wanted to write

There is no Turkey in Alex's room this year, but there is a prince.

AKA, Henry spends thanksgiving with Alex after the election and reflects on all of his dreams coming true.

(Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, so fluffy it borders on worshippy, Porn with Feelings)

we might fall

A little ficlet of Alex and Henry in the hammock. Metaphors about falling.

lifeline of mine

Henry hates hospitals, has hated them since he watched his father wither away in one that smelled just like this one, that had the same unsettling chill in the air. And every time he walked into a hospital after losing Arthur, he would see his father’s ashen face, would feel the ghost of his cold skin prickling his own, would hear the slowing beep of his heart monitor. And now, it’s Henry in a hospital bed, not knowing what’s wrong with his body. And he’s scared, and he’s thinking about Arthur and…

“I saw him,” Henry whispers.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Hurt Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Worried Alex Claremont-Diaz, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug, Forehead Kisses, Fever, Angst with a Happy Ending)

please don't ever become a stranger (whose laugh i could recognize anywhere)

Alex’s love language is physical touch.

Henry knows this—has known it from the first moment he’s met Alex, all wild curls and bright eyes and a smile that could breathe life into Henry’s little, fragile hife. He’d stuck out a hand at that first meeting, dejected when Henry didn’t even take it. Found a way to poke and prod Henry every single time they’d met after, sharp jabs hitting his shoulder and rough hits shoving him around.

Now, Alex’s fingers are gentle as they lace around his. His arms hold him tight to his chest. His hair tickles the nape of Henry’s neck, and the couch is entirely too small for the two of them but Henry doesn’t have the heart to kick him out.

Or, 5 times Alex clings tight to Henry and 1 time Henry finds out why.

Bear with me

The first time it happened, Henry was not having it.

“For the last time, I’m not helping you shave your arse.”

—

In which Alex is very hairy, and Henry sort of has a thing for it. Not that he'd admit it, though.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Canon - Book, But can fit the movie verse too, tzp is a walking thirst trap, this was supposed to be crack but became quite serious real quick, Domestic Fluff, Mentions of Sex, No Smut, Body Hair Appreciation, Healthy Relationships)

i ask you how you’re doing (and i let you lie)

The first time Henry sees it happen, he knows instantly that it is not the first time it has ever happened. They’re sitting in the living room of the brownstone, the two of them surrounded by their favorite people in the world, a night of board games long abandoned in favor of mocking the eighth season of Game of Thrones.

“God, don’t you have an off switch?” June groans, laughing as she chucks a piece of popcorn in Alex’s direction while he rambles passionately about the international legal implications of the Red Wedding. Nora cackles. “Whatever you do to thank Henry for putting up with you, it’s not nearly enough. Jesus, I can’t believe he put a ring on your loud mouth.”

Or: Alex is fine. Really, he’s fine — he just wants Henry to stay, even if Alex is too much. Henry just wants his husband back.

but i'd put you first a million times over

Henry first noticed it shortly after the Waterloo incident. Apparently, it hadn’t been enough to thrust all their private thoughts and emails into the public eye; they had to be thrust into the limelight as well.

Or the 5 times Henry asked the Crown for better security, plus one time he no longer had to.

(Additional Tags: Protective Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Paparazzi, Hurt/Comfort, 5+1 Things, Hurt Alex Claremont-Diaz, Post-Canon)

in every scenario

Henry can practically hear Alex thinking. They’re curled up in bed, Alex’s head resting on his chest, and his mind is so loud. He can hear it in the rustling of the sheets, in Alex’s hand skating up his ribcage; the anxious curl of his toes against Henry’s ankles. He’s nearly vibrating with thought.

Henry’s hand tucks into the base of Alex’s spine. “Love,” he murmurs, ducking his chin to look down at his boyfriend. “What on earth are you thinking about?”

Or, Alex has something important on his mind.

Long fics:

all that glitters (is not gold)

Alex Claremont-Diaz has it all. His mom won the election, he’s got the perfect boyfriend. He gets to love Henry out loud. Everything is great. Perfect.

Except for the itch under his skin every time he goes outside, and the tightness in his chest when he goes online, and the fact that he can’t fucking sleep.

But it's fine. He's fine. Really.

—-

Or: after the emails, Alex Claremont-Diaz isn’t fine.

(The masterpiece. The firstprince sequel. The canon sequel.)

But I love him, whether or no.

Henry moves to New York City to help Pez with the opening of his new bar in the East Village. The location—fortunately for business, but unfortunately for Henry’s sanity—is directly across the street from a fire station. The sound of sirens is bad, Alex the gorgeous firefighter is worse. But when Alex helps Henry avoid a near catastrophe the night of the bar’s opening, the two form a tentative friendship that starts to develop into something more.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighter!Alex, Canon typical mental health issues for Henry, Canon typical struggles with grief for Henry, Canon typical child of divorce issues for Alex, Canon typical struggles with sexuality for Alex, Firefighter injuries, Hospitalization, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

the poem you make of me

After being discovered on Instagram as a teenager, Alex Diaz is thriving as a social media influencer and model who just landed a high profile, high fashion contract with Calvin Klein. Alex can get any girl he wants, and he’s loving it. Meanwhile, British poet Henry Fox has just arrived in L.A. to kick off a North American tour promoting his new, steamy book of gay erotic poetry, and he’s attracting a lot of attention.

Bad blood is immediately sparked between them when Henry blows Alex off at their first meeting. Several tabloid rumors and an Instagram tantrum later, Alex and Henry are reluctantly thrust together to make nice, resulting in a grudging friendship and a magnetism between them that Alex can't explain. Why is Henry's poetry making Alex feel like this? And just what is it about Henry Fox that gets to him so much?

God Save the Blessed American President Mom

["June stopped by at lunch; she showed me a delightful channel called Hallmark, which repeats the same story every hour after they swap one round of white, straight, small-town conventionally beautiful actors for another. It was entertaining.”

“June and I used to play a drinking game with those. Take a shot every time someone goes ice skating, sledding, or leaves the big city for their tiny hometown.”

“Good lord, you must’ve been sloshed in the first ten minutes.”]

***

On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life.

Alex gets shot instead.

How wonderful life is (while you're in the world)

The corner of Henry’s mouth. It’s disappeared now, covered by the oxygen mask fixed securely around his head, but if Alex concentrates hard enough, he can see it sprawled out in front of him. Every ridge, every bend and edge and turn of it.

He knows Henry’s heart. And that’ll be enough.

(or: the one where henry gets shot and alex is a goddamn mess.)

#it's been 84 years #but i did it #this is the longest post I've ever made #please don't ignore it #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince fanfic #firstprince fic #rwrb fic #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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s-4pphics · 11 months

Text

let the rain sing. prologue. (a.a.)

wc;cw: 2k, dadsbestfriend!abby, lawstudent!oc, large age gap(oc is 25, abby is mid 40s), abby is bi <3, mentions of insomnia and prescriptions, brief mentions of familial death, brief mentions of weed, alcohol, smut l8r y’all know wassup

You were exhausted.

You haven’t gotten one second of decent shut eye for the last three days, and you could slowly feel yourself slipping into insanity every second that passed.

Strumming my pain with his fingers, singing my life with his words—

You’d been silently gnawing through your now rubbery everything bagel when your mother’s speaker rang through the kitchen. You jumped slightly, glancing over to your parents as they eyed each other with bright smiles across their faces. Despite the pounding of your head from the volume of the Fugees, you couldn’t help the softness you felt whenever you saw them in each other's company. They were still so in love after all this time.

When they heard that you passed the LSAT two years ago, they were ecstatic, even more so than you’d been. You were glad to know that your restless hours of studying had paid off, but you couldn’t help the anxiety that washed over you when you thought about finances, employment, living arrangements. All of the things you didn’t have to worry about at university because your parents were that giving. These responsibilities started to hit you the closer the start of your first semester got, but you thanked god every day for blessing your parents with their intuition.

They’d been quick to ease any tension that you’d developed over the summer, inviting you to live with them as you finished your schooling. You lived on campus when you were in university, and even though you were disappointed by not having another full experience like you did previously, you refused to pass up the opportunity of free… everything.

You knew law school would be difficult—your first year rocked you like no other, and although your peers had gotten accustomed to the rigor, you were struggling just as badly as you were back then.

And it mainly had to do with your inability to fucking sleep.

You… could not stay sleep for longer than twenty minutes at a time, and it was killing you. Literally. Your friends had been making comments about how worn out you seemed.

You tried everything: upping the milligrams of your prescription, indica, giving yourself lack-luster, unfulfilling orgasms, and none of it worked.

Your parents knew about your insomnia since you were a teenager, but you never fully expressed to them how bad it’d gotten since this semester started. Your prescribed sleeping aids were not helping you in the slightest anymore, and you spent most of your nights staring at the ceiling of your childhood bedroom, counting the little glow-in-the-dark, star-shaped stickers that your dad had stuck to your ceiling when you were little. The longer you stared at them, the brighter they seemed to glow, even though you knew that they’d lost their shine a decade ago.

You had another day of diligent notetaking and highlighting ahead of you, but all you could think about was fucking sleep.

Hi baby .Some friends from work will be over today when you return from class .Sorry for the last minute warning .I love you & be safe .🥰❤️

You sighed heavily as you read your father’s text, your instructor's voice sounding like nails on a chalkboard as you sent your dad okay. love you too.

You always loved your father’s vibrancy: you’ve never known someone as social as him. He loved to speak, to make friends, to learn the inner makings of their mind with genuine curiosity. He had such a comforting and attentive aura, and it lured people to him like they were on strings, and he was a puppeteer.

But having company over tonight was the last thing you wanted right now.

And your favorite pen was running out of fucking ink.

Dammit.

You pulled your front door open and was instantly met with the sound of laughter and glasses clinking. It was almost nine, and they were still here.

… Great.

You stepped in and shut the door behind you, immediately kicking your shoes off and walking towards the steps.

“And where’re you going, young lady?”

Your mother’s voice made you halt, and your head dropped in surrender.

You turned towards the group spread out across the living room, and you smiled as widely as you could manage, adjusting the heavy bag on your shoulder.

“…Hey, y’all,” you said awkwardly, raising your hand up in a stiff wave, earning some chuckles and warm greetings.

You inspected the room as they all greeted you. You recognized most of the faces from small gatherings that your parents had in the past, but your eyes were drawn to the unfamiliar woman sitting on the love seat near the television, glass of wine in hand.

Her cheeks were tinted pink, her blonde locks draping over her… broad shoulders and back. She was dressed in a white, floral sundress with strappy sandals, and you couldn’t stop the flutter in your chest when she wiggled her fingers at you in a wave, gently saying Hi, I’m Abigail. I don’t think we’ve met.

“… No, we haven’t. Nice t’meet you.”

“You, too,” she said, her smile brightening.

Your father cut in, “Baby, tell her about your law student endeavors! Abby used to attend!” He turned to her to continue his boasting, “She’s almost done with her schooling, I can’t even believe it!”

Abby nodded as she sipped her wine, her eyes darting to yours in curiosity, encouraging you to tell her about your education. You shrugged, “Uh, yeah. I’m almost done. Trying to be done… I’m dying inside.”

The room rang with laughter, Abby's soft giggles filling your ears. You squeezed the strap of your bag tighter at the sound.

“I know the feeling. You’re better than I was, for sure. I was two seconds away from becoming a gravestone.” More laughter shook the room as she shook her head as she reminisced, taking another sip of wine.

You nodded, urgent to get upstairs and shower, “Yeah, it’s rough. But, uh… I’m exhausted. I’ll leave y’all to it.”

You turned to rush upstairs, only trekking one before your mom’s voice stopped you again. Your legs were this close to giving out.

“Wait, honey! Can you help Abby make the charcuterie board before you go? Maybe she can give you some advice about getting your Master’s!”

… What advice would she give? She didn’t even finish school!

Your body was begging for you to lay down, but you spun towards the guests, “Can I change first?”

“Sure, hon!”

You caught Abby’s eyes one last time before you left, her gaze… hard to read. It made your hand grab the rail of the stairs tighter before you bolted up the steps as their chatter picked up again.

Abby was… very nice.

You’d only been working on the charcuterie for about ten minutes, but you felt comfortable talking to her.

You’d been curious as to why you’d never met her before, and you were eager to know more about her: how she met your dad, what her role was at the office, her… failed master’s program. She went into detail about her short-lived adventure at Harvard Law, and you couldn’t eliminate the shock on your face as she retold the story.

She’d received almost a full ride in scholarship fund due to her remarkable academia, but even with her suffocating schedule, she found time to fall in love with somebody.

Then fell—

“—pregnant. Perfect timing,” she said with light sarcasm, and she neatly placed the crackers on a China dish. You shook your head at the mention of children, grabbing a plate from the cabinet above you, “Couldn't handle school’n and being pregnant, so I dropped out.”

“… I don’t know if I should say congrats or sorry,” you huffed a laugh, suddenly feeling guilty about your judgment of her earlier. She shook her head with a grin.

“Don’t say either. I’ve gotten both responses and I hate them equally,” she said with a playful glare, her mouth raised slyly. You chuckled gently, placing grapes on the plate.

“I get that, at least you had time for a partner n’all that. Don’t tell my parents but… I haven’t talked to anyone since I started,” you said with slight embarrassment.

“Shit…” you saw her eyes widen from the corner of your eye as she crunched on a cracker. “Yeah… you’re superhuman. I don’t know what the hell I woulda done if I didn’t get… yeah. Sorry.”

Your cheeks ran hot as you huffed awkwardly, “It’s, uh, fine. I’ve just been really busy’n I’m sooo tired. I’m just… not thinking about that right now…”

“I can tell…” she turned to look at you softly before continuing, “I can tell you’re working really hard. You looked like you were gonna hit the floor when you walked in.”

Because you were.

“I’ll be fine,” you stared into her soft eyes, studying her face. You couldn’t help but memorize the curve of her nose, the soft dots and small scars on her face, her rosy lips. You saw her eyes flicker down your face before looking down at the tray. You quickly changed the subject.

“So, how old's your kid?” you asked curiously, reaching for and opening the new pack of fresh mozzarella. You heard her breath catch in her throat.

“She, um… she would’ve been around your age,” she barely whispered, and you nearly shot yourself in the foot.

You whipped your head to look at her, immediately setting the food down on the tray, your heart saddening at the implication.

“Abby, oh my god, I’m so sor— “

She shook her head at you with a sad smile, “Don’t worry about it, you didn’t know. I’m good.”

“Still, I’m so sorry, that’s awfu— “

She placed a light hand on your shoulder, “Hey, you didn’t know. I’m fine… I’ve been fine since it happened.”

You could feel her thumb rubbing into the fabric of your t-shirt, your bra-strap moving with her caress. You could feel a chill building at the base of your spine, slowly creeping up your neck.

“Not to brag,” her voice got surprisingly low, a teasing grin creeping onto her face. You almost shuddered. “But I think I’m doing pretty well given the circumstances. I’m making a fucking charcuterie board like some rich auntie. If that isn’t proof, I dunno what is.”

You gasped out a laugh. You hadn’t realized how good she smelt, like a fucking rose garden and Cabernet. You noticed her slightly leaning into your space, just barely, and your heart pounded against your chest. You averted your gaze down to the floor.

“You’re so tense,” she whispered out between you two with furrowed brows, evident concern in her voice. “And you look exhausted. Are you doing okay?”

You felt the hand still planted on your shoulder massage into it, her thumb gently pressing into the skin above your collarbone, and you sighed at her touch.

“… No— “

“Giiirls, what’s the hold up! We’re feelin’ peckish!”

You heard your father’s mischievous voice call out from the living room, and you pulled away from the woman who’d gotten way too close to you. You skittishly returned your attention to the loaded food tray, finishing the last bit of plating before grabbing the handles and rushing out to the crowded area, leaving Abby in the kitchen to grab another bottle of wine from the fridge.

Your parents’ friends hooted at the sight of the tray as you set it down on the coffee table. You hurriedly turned to say goodnight to your parents, but you accidentally bumped into a flushed Abby with an unopened wine bottle and cork in hand.

You brainlessly grabbed the bottle from her, your fingertips brushing against hers. You could’ve sworn you felt her grip tighten around the neck.

You took it from her grasp, setting it down on the table before pushing past her, your arms brushing. You bent down to peck your parents on the forehead with a shaky call of goodnight to everyone.

You quickly raced up the stairs trying to convince yourself that eyes were not burning holes in your back, rushing into your room and shutting the door softly.

What the fuck was that!

those pics r not eating omg

im mad late my bad yall lol

taglist? :0

mwah bye

part one. part two. part three. interlude. part four.

#abby anderson smut #abby anderson #abby anderson au #abby anderson angst #abby anderson x you #abby tlou #abby the last of us #works 𖧧࣪#dbf!abby #𓈒∘☁︎let the rain sing☁︎∘𓈒

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thedrarrylibrarian · 9 days

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Happy Friday to all, but especially my fellow Tortured Poets!

Don't you love when the stars align to make something beautiful for you? That's what happened with my Happy Hour rec for this week.

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (46,147 words, rated E)

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

I've been in a bit of a fic rut - and definitely not because of a lack of great fic options - but nothing was hitting right for me at this moment in time. Finally, in my marked for later list, I came back across Citrusses' fic, and was thrilled to finally read it. I'd been looking forward to it for a long time because I love Citrusses as a writer. It just so happened to be a perfect pick for the album drop I've been looking forward to as well with it's academic setting and Tortured Poet Draco.

For someone who doesn't enjoy any sports whatsoever, I've recently found that I adore sports fics. The competition and camaraderie provide a setting and tension that I really enjoy and this holds true with rowing as well. Citrusses' dialogue made me laugh out loud several times while reading and the building tension of Harry and Draco's relationship (for good and bad) kept me absorbed in this fic.

Most of all, I loved how Citrusses wrote college students. I so clearly remember being 19-22 and the uncertainty and anxiety that I constantly felt. It's hard to suddenly be expected to be an adult, but have so little experience at it. Citrusses wrote that feeling in a way that was realistic, but gave her characters grace when they made their mistakes.

Even if you are not a Tortured Poet, I think it'd be impossible not to enjoy Citrusses' fic. And if you are a Tortured Poet, once you've finally finished analyzing all the lyrics you should definitely come give this a read to keep those vibes going!

❤️ Lots of Love and Happy Friday! ❤️

PS - if you like this fic, be sure to leave a kudos or a comment!

#thedrarrylibrary happy hour #happy hour fic rec #drarry happy hour #friday happy hour fic rec #friday happy hour #citrusses #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #the drarry librarian #lots of love and happy friday

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goldenseresinretriever · 7 months

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Snitches Get Stitches: Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, Swearing. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: A huge thank you to every single person that’s read the story so far, y’all are literally my primary motivation to keep writing. I love writing with my whole heart and knowing that someone else is enjoying it??? That’s insane to me so thank you so much for all the support, comments, reblogs, and likes, it means the whole world ❤️

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You lean against the counter in the exam room, giving Jake’s chart one last once-over while you wait for him to come back from the showers. There’s nothing in there detailing any recent injuries and your suspicion increases. You’re still weighing your options when the door opens and Jake saunters in, clad in a simple Dogfighters t-shirt and sweats, his hair still wet from the shower. He heads over to the exam table and pops up onto it, leaning to rest his palms on his knees.

“So Bugs, let’s get to it.” You give him a confused look.

“Bugs?”

“Yup.” He fails to elaborate but his eyes tell you he’s waiting for you to catch on to some joke you’re unaware of.

“I don’t get it. Why’re you calling me Bugs?”

“What’s up, Doc?” He says with a grin in a poor imitation of Bugs Bunny that makes a smile spread over your face, your worry temporarily forgotten. “You work for a hockey team now, Bugs, you need a nickname. So Bugs Bunny, or Bugs for short. Unless you’d rather I call you Bunny.” He waggles his eyebrows at you playfully. You feel your cheeks flush at his teasing. “So, what do you think, Bugs?”

“I think it’s a good thing you’re good at hockey.” You laugh nervously, as your mind comes back to the task at hand. You clasp your hands in front of you to keep them from shaking as you steady yourself for what you’re about to do. “Let’s get down to business shall we?” He nods, settling back on the table. “As I mentioned earlier, today we’re just going to be doing a standard physical, nothing special, but before we start, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” You watch him stiffen, his carefree, flirty demeanor now wary. It makes your heart ache. As a doctor, seeing your patients in pain has always been hard for you, but you trust your ability to alleviate it. To do that for Jake, though, he’d have to trust in you too. “During the introduction, I mentioned that the only way I can fully be of service to you as your physician is if we trust each other enough to be honest with each other.” You swallowed, crossing your arms across your chest, steeling yourself before you brought your eyes to look straight into his stormy ones. “So that being said I need to know, what’re we working with? A groin pull? An MCL pull or tear maybe?”

You had prepared for a lot of different reactions from Jake but the shock on his face wasn’t one of them. His mouth had fallen open and you couldn’t help the way your eyes caught on his slightly chapped pink lips.

“Jake?” You whisper gently like you’re trying not to spook a horse.

It breaks him out of his stupor. “What the fuck?” It sounds like it’s been punched out of his lungs. “How the fuck? How the fuck could you possibly?” His chest is starting to rise and fall rapidly and you push off the counter, his chart abandoned as you place your hands on both of his broad shoulders, crowding his space as you coach him gently.

“Jake, I need you to breathe for me, can you do that? In, and hold, and out.” You guide him through the breathing, his eyes on the floor on yours on the top of his head, watching water droplets slide along the strands until finally, his breathing evens out. You take your hands off his shoulders and drop to squat in front of him, catching his eyes where his head is still hung. “Talk to me, Jake, I can help. Let me help.” You’re not sure when you took his hand in yours as you realize you’re rubbing gentle circles in the skin. Nothing about that is professional but then again neither is accusing a multimillionaire athlete with a fantastic legal team of lying about a serious injury, so you’re 0 for 2.

“How, how did you know?” He whispers, and your heart breaks at the hesitation and fear in his voice. “Who told you? Did my old physician call you? Did my publicist?” His voice gets louder with each question, raising with his frustration. He runs the hand you’re not holding through his wet hair angrily, stray water droplets raining down over you.

You shake your head. “No, no Jake, no one told me, I just… I just knew.” He brings his eyes back to you, accusation shining hotly in them.

“How, Bugs? Explain how you ‘just knew’.”

“I…” you hesitate, embarrassment coloring your cheeks as you realize you’re going to have to explain yourself. You sit back on your heels to get comfortable, letting go of Jake’s hand to fiddle with your own. “So we had this game of sorts at my fellowship during the playoffs. Since if athletes get injured during the playoffs there’s a high chance it doesn’t get revealed until the season’s over, those of us who got together to watch the games made a game out of it. We’re sports doctors, right? So it’s our job to be able to diagnose athletes quickly and efficiently. So we would make notes of potential injuries each game and if we were right and they got announced after the season we’d ‘win’ and basically yeah we’d bet on how valid we thought each other’s diagnoses were.”

You sigh, remembering that night. “It was the Conference Finals, game 4 against the Ducks. You were fighting some defenseman from the Ducks who was getting too pushy with covering you, your legs got tangled and then you went down. Your legs stretched a weird way and then you went off the ice for your penalty and then you were benched for the next half of that period. I knew something was wrong. Everyone else thought your coach just wanted you to cool your head. I guessed either a groin pull or something with your MCL. Then the season ended and nothing came out about the injury. I just couldn’t shake it though, this feeling that I was right.” You shake your head. “Then, you show up here and you’re giving me these weird looks every time I mention the physical and then shuffling around when I mentioned injuries during my speech so I decided to take a chance. I know it’s extremely unprofessional to accuse you of hiding an injury but I meant it when I said it, I care about your health and I just want to help you, Jake, and I can, but only if you’re honest with me.” You let out a huff, waiting for Jake to respond, too nervous to raise your eyes from his sneakers to watch his reaction.

“Well I’ll be damned, Bugs.” You look up at that to see the curiosity and awe in his face. “That’s really something.”

“So,” you put on a small smile. “Are you gonna let me help you, Jake?”

His eyes dim at that. “Bugs, I can’t let you do that.” You can’t help the scowl that contorts your face.

“And why not, Jake? You’d rather throw the rest of your career, and maybe your life, away than ask me for help?” You’re trying to understand, you really are, but he’s just so stubborn and you can’t understand why. “We have time now, there’s two months until the start of the season, and if you let me help you, you can play, you can even stay on the first line, but time is not our friend, Jake you need to trust me, sooner rather than later.”

“If I let you help, it goes in my chart, and if it goes in my chart, it goes by Maverick and Simpson. And if that happens, I get benched.”

“What part of, if I help you, you won’t get benched, was not in English, Seresin?” You’re done being the nice guy.

“You can’t guarantee that. My last physician said I’d have to spend half the next season riding the bench, that I’d be lucky to make the third line.” It occurs to you that maybe this is why he left Dallas.

“Maybe if you let me look at it, I could give you MY opinion?” Irritation creases your face.

“If you look at it, that means scans, that means evidence, and I can’t have a trail of medical records leading the higher-ups to this, I could get fired for it.” He thinks he’s being reasonable, you can see it in his eyes, but he’s being anything but. It’s wearing down every one of your nerve endings and it’s not even noon on your first day, you’re going to snap.

“You put me out five hundred bucks!” You shout, seething and you don’t care if he sees anymore. His face shifts into confusion for a second as he processes what you’ve just yelled before he bursts out laughing at your attack out of left field. He throws his head back as he does it, and it’s a deep laugh, from the bottommost parts of his belly, but you can’t enjoy it with how furious you are.

“If it’s the money you’re looking for, Bugsy, I can write you a check right now.” He says, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Only later do you wonder when the last time he laughed that hard was.

“Seresin, get the fuck out of my exam room.” Your voice is cold, monotone, exacting, and you’re doing everything you can to maintain your paper-thin composure. At your change in tone, his grin fades as he realizes you don’t find this as funny as he does.

“W-What?” He stammers nervously, confused by your request.

“I said, get the fuck out of my exam room, Seresin.” You stand up and his head follows you holding your eyes with his.

“But what about the physical?”

“I can’t examine a patient that doesn’t want to be examined, and I’m sure as hell not lying on a physical report, because then I’ll get fired, and unlike you, Mr. Seresin, I can’t afford to just go somewhere else. So, I’m going to ask you one more time, get the fuck out of my exam room. We can reschedule your physical when you’re ready to be transparent with me. Thank you for your time.” You purse your lips into a straight line as you collect his chart and your laptop from the counter, opening the door, and holding it open for him. He doesn’t move from where he’s perched on the exam table so you heave a sigh and head out yourself, calling back, “I’m going to get my next patient Mr. Seresin, you better be gone when I get back,” before letting the door swing shut behind you as head off to the gym where the players are doing their individual workouts.

“Javy Machado, you’re up.” You call across the gym, as you make your way to the shirtless dark-skinned man at the leg press, you tap his sweaty bare shoulder to get his attention and he pulls out his headphones.

“Sorry, miss, what’s up?”

“You’re up, Machado.” You smile, trying to regain your professionalism after the number Jake did on you. He returns the smile but you can see the confusion in his eyes.

“Already, miss? You’re done with Jake?”

“Mr. Seresin had something come up and had to reschedule. I’m not at liberty to say anything else.” You give him a tight-lipped smile and his brow furrows in concern as he gets up, wiping his face with a towel before putting his t-shirt back on and following you back to the exam room. Thankfully, Jake had left and you take your place at the counter, placing your computer back down and replacing Jake’s file in the rack, removing Javy’s instead.

“Ma’am?” you look up to see Javy fidgeting with his hands where he’s sat on the exam table.

“What’s on your mind, Javy?” You lean against the counter.

“I know you said you’re not at liberty to say but I have to try, okay? Is Jake okay?” Your heart breaks at the pain and helplessness in his voice. He cares so much and suddenly you’re angry at Jake all over again for hurting his best friend this way, your mind drifting back to the conversation you had with Natasha earlier.

“Honestly, Javy? I don’t know.” You shake your head, a tired laugh escaping your lips. “He won’t talk to me, and honestly I was hoping to get some answers from you but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you’re just as in the dark about what’s going on here.”

“So his physical?”

“I refused to do it until he’s ready to be honest with me. Since the team is still new we don’t have a designated mental health professional, so I’m responsible for all aspects of your health right now and I refuse to submit an incorrect or incomplete report.”

“And and if he doesn’t?”

You shrug, exhausted. “He can’t play without a physical.” You set your jaw. “I know it sounds ridiculous in the grand scheme of things but if I let a sick player on the ice, that would break every code I’m bound to, personal and professional.”

“No,” Javy shakes his head. “You’re right, that’s what he needs. I think it’s been a while since someone told him no, it’ll be good for him.” He gives you a rueful smile and you chuckle.

“You’re a good friend, Javy.”

“So is Jake,” he gives you an apologetic look, “at least he usually is.”

“I’m sure he is.” You say, giving him a sad smile. “I’m sure he is.”

***

The next morning at warmups, you stand beside Maverick as he gives the team a rundown of his plans for the day. You’ll be continuing the process of giving physicals today. You’d gotten through the first line yesterday with the exception of Jake and the rookie goalie, Bob, who you’d be starting with today since the goalie coach was visibly missing from the rink.

“And before we break, Bugs has an announcement for you guys.” It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours but Jake’s nickname had spread like wildfire and you can’t help but think back to your conversation with Zam yesterday.

You clap your hands together as twenty pairs of eyes turn to you. “Great job with the physicals yesterday you guys, not only has it been a good chance to familiarize myself with you as patients, but also a great opportunity to get to know you as coworkers. I really appreciate how patient you’ve been with me. I hope that attitude can continue going forward into the season. That being said, I know there has been some grumbling about these physicals since they seem like a waste of time since you get them done every year, but I would like to remind you all that a current physical with me is a requirement to play for the team come October. And since I want these done as soon as possible, if you don’t have a valid physical by the end of next week, I’ll be forced to give my professional opinion to Mav and Beau that you aren’t fit to play for the team.” You could’ve heard a pin drop in the arena. You could feel Jake’s eyes burning holes in your head, but you refused to acknowledge them, refusing to even invite suggestions that he was the cause of the issue. You had patient confidentiality to uphold no matter what other games you had to play to achieve compliance. “Okay, boys that’s it, Bob you’re with me.” The goalie flashes you a thumbs-up before lumbering off to the locker room to shed his equipment. You go on ahead to prep for his physical, stopping by your office to grab your laptop and today’s stack of files.

You almost jump when you push the door to the exam room open to see a sweaty Jake Seresin leaning against the exam table still in his gear and skates, arms crossed over his chest, brows drawn together in a frown. His eyes follow you across the room and you head over to the counter and start getting set up for Bob. Finally, when it becomes clear that he’s not going to volunteer anything, you turn to face him, fighting the urge to cross your arms across your chest and immediately go on the defensive. He’s a patient. He needs your help. He deserves your grace. You repeat in your mind as you force your best professional smile. “Mr. Seresin, what can I do for you?”

He scowls at you, whether it’s for the title or your nonchalant tone, acting like you don’t know why he’s here when technically you really don’t. You have your suspicions and your hopes, but he could very well be here to inquire how good you are juggling, for example. Not good.

“I told you to call me Jake.”

“Well I told you to be honest with me, so I guess we’re even.” You can’t help it, you turn into an immature child in front of him, your professionalism taking a dive out the nearest window. His glare deepens. “Now if you have something to say to me, get it out because Bob’s scheduled to be here any minute now.”

“He hit the showers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He shifts on his feet. “Listen, we need to talk about your little stipulation.”

“It’s not my stipulation if it’s literally in your contract, now is it?”

“But-“

“No ‘buts,’ Jake, you need a physical to play and I’m not forging one for you. I’m telling you now that no matter what happens, I will give you my 110% to get you back to full health, whether you come to me now or when you’ve run out of options or stubbornness. I don’t care what your last physician told you, I’m telling you, I will do everything in my power to help you, but for this to work, you have to trust me.”

He shakes his head ruefully. “I don’t get it. Why do it like this? Why haven’t you just gone to Mav and told him what’s going on? He’s got a laundry list of things he could hold over my head to get me to comply to a true physical.”

You chuckle at that. “Three reasons, Jake. First, I’m a grown woman and a fully licensed physician, I can solve my own problems and I’m not the kind of girl who’s going to run to my boss every time a patient throws a tantrum. I learn to catch. Second, that would be a violation of your doctor-patient confidentiality since you didn’t consent to me sharing that information with Mav, for example by informing me during your physical and me, in turn, putting it in your chart at which point it becomes privy to Mav and the other higher-ups who have access to your chart. And third, something more important than a breach in doctor-patient confidentiality would be a breach of your trust. When you step into this room, give me the privilege of your time, and submit yourself to my opinions and care, you trust me to do everything within my power to help you and I trust you to give me everything I need to be able to do my job. If I break that trust, for example, by going over your head instead of settling this like adults, then I can’t expect you to hold up your end of the burden and I can’t be of help to you. Does that make sense?” He’s quiet, turning your words over in his head you assume. Before he can say anything, the door opens and Bob walks in, freshly showered, stopping the moment he sees Jake. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?” He asks nervously, eyes shifting from Jake still in full gear to you. You give him a small smile in return.

“Could you just step outside and give us a second, Bob? We’ll just be a minute.” He nods and heads back out, the door swinging shut behind him. Jake is still silent, so you reach into the pocket of your coat and pull out a Ziploc bag, before crossing the room over to Jake. “Take your time and think about what I just said. At the end of the day, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, and while I have a preference, I’ll do what I have to do. In the meantime,” you extend your hand to him, the Ziploc dangling from your hand revealing the dog treats inside. “Tell Pudding I said hi.” Jake’s eyebrows shoot straight up as he looks at you in confusion.

“How did you-?”

You shrug. “I research all my patients, it helps me find possible points of relatability with them and start building a relationship. Plus Jake, you’re a celebrity and that adorable dog is in literally every single one of your Instagram posts. I may be your physician, but I’m not Amish.” You say with a smirk, passing him the bag and patting him on the shoulder. He takes this as his cue to leave and straightens, heading for the door. You can’t help the way your eyes fall to his right leg, trying your best to see through his facade but you have to hand it to him, he’s doing a damn good job hiding the pain.

“Thanks, Bugs.” He says in farewell and you smile, giving him a nod before he disappears and Bob comes in. He and Jake exchange a look and nod as they pass each other.

When the door clicks shut, Bob ambles over to the exam table, seating himself on the edge before facing you, a grim expression on his face. “Everything okay, Bob?” You ask. You’ve only ever seen the rookie goalie smiling.

“How’s his leg?” Bob blurts out the question and your eyebrows shoot straight up before you can stop them.

“Bob, I’m not at liberty to discuss my other patients.”

“Yeah, I know that but-“

“How do you know about his leg?” You’re dying to know. You know you just talked a big game about trust with Jake but your desire to know more about his condition is winning against your conscience right now. you’re only human, and every part of you wants to know how this rookie goalie who met Jake less than twenty-four hours ago as far you know already knows about his leg when his best friend doesn’t.

Bob rubs the back of his neck. “I have a bachelor’s in kinesiology and I’m a goalie.” He shrugs. “I spend a good portion of my time standing and watching, so I notice things. He hasn’t said anything to me, and he does a good job hiding it, but on the ice, I’d say he’s too preoccupied with the game to keep up appearances as well. But I can tell he shouldn’t be playing on it.” He shakes his head. “There’s no way Mav knows or else he wouldn’t be on the ice, but it’s only a matter of time before he finds out.” You nod along. It turns out Bob Floyd is full of surprises.

You hesitate before you respond. “I know as much as you do, Bob. I noticed it too, but Jake’s straight up refusing my help and I don’t know why. You’re right, Mav has no idea and I can’t break confidentiality to tell him without losing what little if any trust Jake has in me.”

Bob nods, “I had a feeling you knew after your announcement this morning. Did he really refuse the physical?”

“Not exactly, more like he refused an honest one, and I refused to give a dishonest one.”

“You’re really good at your job, Bugs, you know that right?” The unexpected gentle words from the goalie have tears threatening to blur your vision, you shake your head trying to hold them back, lowering your head to focus on a point on the floor.

“If I was good at my job, I wouldn’t be in this position.”

You look up when you feel a soft hand on your shoulder. “Bugs, it’s because you’re good at your job that you’re in this position. Unfortunately, there are plenty of doctors that would have just done what Jake wants, either because they don’t care or they’re too worried about getting sued by a multimillionaire athlete.” A watery chuckle forces its way past your lips. “You’re doing the right thing, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.” It takes everything not to hurl yourself into his arms and weep because this is what you’ve needed for months. One person telling you that you’re doing the right thing, that you’re good at your job, that what you’re doing matters, and here is someone who’s supposed to be your patient, healing a part of you.

“Thanks, Bob, I think I really needed to hear that.” You say, trying your best not to notice how your voice wobbles.

“Don’t mention it, Bugs, just trying to help.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and squeezes in a half-hug like he can tell you need it, and you don’t even notice that it doesn’t make you feel queasy.

“Hey, Bob? If the hockey thing doesn’t work out? I think you’d make one hell of a doctor.” He laughs and you giggle as you straighten and grab his chart. “Let’s get started shall we?”

A/N: Bugs is just doing her best 🥲 BestFriend!Bob is my favorite Bob and I will die on that hill. To everyone who’s had questions I hope this sated at least a little bit of your curiosity. When authors say that our characters have a mind of their own, we really do mean it… but I love writing the story they tell me.

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smicksstuff · 11 months

Text

maman said: “the best people in life are the ones who loved you when you werent very lovable”. yn finally understood what that meant.

The PitBox Crew Series

masterlist

Power, Beauty and Soul

(f1drivers x yngasly)

a/n: sorry for the long wait! hope you like it 😆

30 April 2023

yngasly

Baku

liked by lance_stroll, pierregasly, charles_leclerc and 892, 672 others

yngasly little miss watching cars go around in odd circles every weekend

view 802 comments

lance_stroll 🤍

pierregasly seeing you every week? what the heck did i sign up for !

yngasly no getting rid of me now 🤗

username2 how rich is this girl? she is at every race so far!!

yngaslyfans her brother races every week, she goes with him

username2 oh, where do i sign up to be gasly sibling too

yngaslyfans ive been asking the same questions

carlossainz55 chiquita why are you studying in baku?

yngasly because i have schoool 😭

landonorris so it wasnt an excuse when you said you were busy studying?

yngasly yes lando, it wasnt an excuse 😐

arthur_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️

lancestrollfc lance comments hearts and he gets a feature in the post? hmmm is this our mystery girl?

lancelot i would love if she is

username4 lance can do better, no way his dad will approve of her.

astonmartinfc if she is the mystery girl, it will be the best couple on the grid.

norris4 im still rooting for her and lando tho! they are so cute tgt!!!

scuderiagasly yn studying during the race weekend? new studying aesthetic unlocked!

user5 @yngasly what are you studying?

yngasly im currently wrapping up my final year at the University of Buckingham. Im studying Marketing and Media Communications. All my classes are online, hence me being able to travel with my brother to races ! 👍🏼

user5 holy crap she actually replied!! thats so cool!! all the best for your final year!!

liked by yngasly and 202 others

scuderiagasly omg does that mean you are gonna work in paddock after you graduate??

yngasly 🤷🏼‍♀️

olliebearman paddock bestie 🧸

liked by yngasly and 8,930 others

arthur_leclerc hey dont steal my bestie

1 May 2023

f1wags

London

liked by scuderiagasly, yngaslyfc and 9,048 others

f1wags Have we cracked the case? Is our mystery Coachella girl from Lance Stroll's instagram story the one and only Yn Gasly?

Since the beginning of the season, Yn Gasly has been rumored to be linked with McLaren's Superstar Lando Norris or Ferrari's Star Boy Charles Leclerc. Since then, another hotshot driver was added to the mix; the Pride of Aston Martin F1 Team, Lance Stroll.

Since the Australian GP, Yn has been seen out and about Monaco with friends and family and she also attended Coachella in California bumping into Lewis Hamilton. Lance Stroll on the other hand was also spotted at Coachella after soft launching his girlfriend on Instagram Story. Right before, he was on a date night in Monaco.

The timelines match up, is Yn Gasly the new girlfriend of Lance Stroll? What are your thoughts?

view 9,103 comments

scuderiagasly TEAM LANCE

liked by 7,890 others

sirlancelot its definitely Lance! Maybe im being delulu but i really want them together!

lancestrollies Lance and Yn as a couple ??? They are gonna be so cute!!

strollygirls PLS BE TGT!

norris4 TEAM LANDO

liked by 7,624 others

landino Yn and Lando are literally carbon copies of each other!

norris4life match made in heaven

mookiesquad this is just giving me Best Friends Brother Vibes

liked by scottyjames31 and 890 others

strollyfamily OMG YES!

mookiesquad OMG NOT SCOTTY LIKING MY COMMENT!

astonmartini is this confirmation that it is LANCE and we are not simply being delulu???

cowboyric if this is true and Lance is dating Yn, it wont be the first time Scotty leaked information about Lance!

2 May 2023

charles_leclerc and pierregasly added to their story

9 May 2023

yngasly

Miami

liked by pierregasly, lance_stroll, danielricciardo and 927, 902 others

yngasly Miami Dreams 🌴❤️

view 9830 comments

pierregasly Best Hotlaps ever!!! 🏎️

yngasly NEVER AGAIN ! its like you wanted to kill me!!!

francisca.cgomes the look on your face when you came back 😂

yngasly it was the best and worst experience of my life

alpinef1team can we do it again but this time we record it 🥺

yngasly yes we can i will do it with esteban or jack not my brother.

alpines PLS MAKE THIS HAPPEN!

frenchies OMG do hotlaps with YN and let all 3 drivers take turns

liked by jackdoohan, pierregasly and 8,902 others

maxverstappen1 i finally made to Yn's Race Weekend Recap!! 🏆

yngasly what are you talking about i have posted you here before

maxverstappen1 really? since when?

maxiel OMG MAX COMMENTING? YN IS GODSENT

danielricciardo double trouble back in the paddock 👊🏼

yngasly they dont know whats coming for them

heidiberger_ yall are such kids

yngasly you love us too much

heidiberger_ thats also very true

lance_stroll missed having you in the garage! come back soon!

liked by 7901 others

yngasly definitely will be back soon 😙

sirlancelot 💚💚💚

lilymhe my wife ❤️‍🔥

liked by 788 others

yngasly loml ❤️‍🔥

alex_albon im right here guys 👀

10 May 2023

chloestroll and heidiberger_ added to their story

14 May 2023

yngasly

Venice

liked by chloestroll, scottyjames31, lance_stroll and 1, 902, 587 others

yngasly F1 Royal Wedding of the century ❤️

view 31,723 comments

pierregasly Bellissimo ❤️ congrats scotty and chloe !!

liked by scottyjames31 and 728 others

lance_stroll ❤️

liked by 1,463 others

landonorris looking good bestie!!! 🤍

liked by yngasly and 578 others

yngaslyfc OMG OMG OMG SHE LOOKS SO GOOD 😍😍😍

sirlance CAN THEY JUST SAY THEY ARE DATING

liked by scottyjames31 and 7,234 others

danielricciardo who took those pictures??? they are amazing

yngasly the wedding photographer was amazing

lance_stroll 100% committed to the job. made sure to capture every moment, even in the bathrooms

danielricciardo hey its an in-thing to take mirror selfies in the toilet

lance_stroll true, got to admit that was the best picture

riccc3 can someone pls post the mirror selfie

chloestroll maid of honour understood the assignment!

scottyjames31 when i got married i never thought that i would have to take care of a kid as well

yngasly chloe is pregnant????????? CHLOEEEE???

scottyjames31 OMG YOU ARE THE KID!! NO ONE IS PREGNANT!!

yngasly oh my bad,, hehe yea we are a package deal 😙

chloestroll @scottyjames31 we discussed this babe, my mini me is always included

scottyjames31 geez okay! go hang out with your racer boyfriend mini me! its my honeymoon time 😎

yngasly what racer boyfriend?

pierregasly @scottyjames31 3...2...1... SCOTTY REALISES THIS IS YOUR MAIN

scottyjames31 fuck me! not again!! 😩😳

sirlancee racer boyfriend???? which one ?

16 May 2023

lance_stroll

Venice, Italy

liked by yngasly, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,494,933 others

lance_stroll Us? I like the sound of that ❤️

view 100 comments

yngasly mon amore ❤️

liked by lance_stroll and 9,028 others

pierregasly if anything happens you know whats coming

lance_stroll yes ofcourse!

yngaslyfc am i the only one dying to know what the pep talk was ?

scuderiagasly pls i wanna know too!

charles_leclerc she may be yours but she will still wear ferrari 👍🏼

pierregasly HEY WHAT

landonorris WHO AGREED TO THAT?

carlossainz55 ferrari 55 merch 👍🏽 🌶️

lance_stroll 99% Aston Martin 1% the rest of you 😎

yngasly maybe i like motogp now 🏍️

chloestroll MY BEST FRIEND AND MY BROTHER !!!!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

liked by yngasly, lance_stroll and 1,383 others

sirlancee i just wanna know chloe's reaction to this

yngasly stuck with me forever now ♾️

chloestroll im not complaining! i love this ❤️

scottyjames31 you are welcome ?

lance_stroll thin ice scotty 🧊

scottyjames31 you still love me tho

lance_stroll we will see about that

gaslystroll scotty is an absolute matchmaker

ln4 and we all thought it was lando who couldnt keep a secret

teamlance THEY ARE SO CUTEE!!!!

pedrogaseoso PLS I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE!

comments have been limited

daniel3.jpg added to their story

taglist: @fangirlika @threedalla @sticksdoesart @ophcelia @gothicwidowsworld @nmw-am @h0e-xoxo @inthestars-underthesun @tyna-19 @champomiel @pitconfirmbutton @clcspeonies @67-angelofthelordme-67 @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fulla02 @mehrmonga @myescapefromthislife @deviltsunoda @lithiscool @bat-shark-repellant @harrysdimple05 @majx00 @baw-sixteen

credits: all pictures found on pinterest and instagram.

a/n: thank you for reading this far!! if you have any suggestions send them to me! i would love to include them in the next chapter!!

if you would liked to be tagged in new chapters, comment your username below 👇😗

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missmaywemeetagain · 5 months

Text

A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving 💗🧣🦃

A very happy Thanksgiving weekend to those who celebrate! ❤️

This blurb came out of nowhere, in a fit of Thanksgiving inspiration (and a special thanks to Norah for inadvertently nudging me towards a Thanksgiving prompt)! Because of this, it is not overly edited or revised. I will say, I'm not sure yet just how canon I want this to be in terms of the PS Universe, but I figure it came out of me for a reason, so I decided to go with it for now.

I think my current moody headspace influenced the vibe for this--for us fans, it's a slightly indulgent "what could have been" scenario. But that's PS in a nutshell, isn't it? 🥹

Anyhoo, I hope this hits you in the feels! And I hope you know just how much you matter to me, even though I've been a bit MIA recently.

Much love xoxoxox, Madi 💗

TW: It's 1977, so...medical issues/trauma/strife. Panic attack. Thanksgiving stress. A little hint of sexy at the end bc I couldn't leave you on a melancholy note! 💋

A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving 1977

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. P, but the oven is out. Lamar took a peek, but the thing is as cold as ice and don’t look like it’s gonna be warm any time soon,” Mary says, looking as distraught as you feel. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch it sooner.”

The naked, trussed, and cold turkey on the counter mocks you.

“No, no, it’s not your fault, Mary. We’ll…figure something out,” you try and reassure her, but it feels like a weight has just been placed on your chest. You pinch the bridge of your nose to stave off the massive headache that began early this morning when Nicky barged into your room at the crack of dawn sobbing because he’d had a nightmare that Mr. Gobble Gobble, a monster turkey, had eaten Daddy instead of the other way around.

This was one of many nightmares that your poor little boy had suffered since August, but certainly the first starring a murderous Thanksgiving turkey. He’d barely been consolable and neither of you had gotten back to sleep.

You take a deep breath, holding back the tears that threaten your vision.

Today needs to be perfect. It was supposed to be perfect.

But you should have known. After all, this year has been far from perfect.

You force yourself away from the wave of despair trying to overcome you. No, we’ve been lucky, you think. It could be so much worse.

Unfortunately, your nerves are shot, which makes sense considering the last few months you’ve had. You’ve kept it together so well. You’ve had to. For Nicky. For Elvis. But that tried resolve begins to crumble with the pressure of it all, as though everything that has happened is hitting you all at once.

Now you have a house full of hungry people, Elvis will be home any minute, and your usual quick-footed problem-solving skills have flown out the window. Your hands begin to tremble.

The panic swells as the kitchen swarms with people looking to you for direction, and in that moment, Nicky runs through the adults, chased by one of the other kids. It happens so fast—you barely have time to register the commotion before disaster strikes.

You watch in horror as the kids fly into the sideboard, knocking the precious side dishes and desserts onto the floor with a resounding crash.

The collective gasp of the adults in the room sends your panic into overdrive.

Thanksgiving is officially ruined.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you shout. The entire room goes silent. It’s not everyday Elvis Presley’s calm and collected wife loses her shit. No, that is something usually reserved for the man himself.

“Well, that’s not quite the welcome home I was expecting,” a familiar baritone chuckles from behind you.

You whip around, your bottom lip quivering. “Elvis?” you whisper.

He’s standing right here—standing! On his own!—leaning on his cane for support, a twinkle in his eye that you haven’t seen in ages. One you weren’t sure you’d ever see again. And the sight of him finally being home again after so many months in the hospital is more than you can bear. After standing tall and strong for him for so long, you crumble into a thousand pieces. An uncontrollable sob chokes out of you, your tears overflowing.

“Aw, honey,” he says quietly, slowly making his way to you, waving everyone else out of the room with the commanding flick of his hand. They exit in a flash with their concerned and pitied looks. Not that you care, because the second you can, you are falling into your husband’s open arms.

“I’m so sorry…your homecoming…it’s all ruined,” you sob into his chest, being mindful of the long scar down the center. Feeling the warmth of him engulfing you is overwhelming. His scent, untainted by antiseptic and hospital smells for the first time in a long time, swirls around you, caressing your senses.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, it’s okay. Let it all out, Satnin,” he coos, stroking your hair with his free hand. “Hers has been so strong for hims, but hims is home now.”

The tenderness of his baby talk in your ear sends a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, staining the silk of his blue dress shirt. He’s dressed up, you think absently, knowing this is a huge thing. Even before that fateful August morning, he’d been mostly wearing his tracksuits when he wasn’t performing. He’d been so uncomfortable and in pain, you’d understood why.

You bury your head into his neck, pent up emotions violently shuddering through your body as you let your tears fall freely for the first time in months. You can barely breathe with how you wedge yourself into him, with how he holds you tight. He’s so much slimmer now that the edema is gone and his colon has been tended to, you realize, but he’s still soft in all the right places. You still fit against him perfectly, and his grip on you makes you realize he understands just how raw you are.

You cry more, thinking about how the last time he was here was when you’d found him unresponsive on the bathroom floor. How you’d never been so scared in your entire life, not even when you yourself had brushes with death.

It's a miracle he’s here at all. None of you, doctors included, were sure if he’d ever step through the doors of Graceland again. Not after the heart attack, or the coma, or the complications from his various surgeries. It had been one blow after another, for weeks, months. But somehow, in true stubborn Elvis fashion, he’d pulled through.

He’d gritted his way through healing, through physical therapy, through weaning off so many of the meds he’d been on before and during his hospital stay, and he hated every second of it. He’d been livid about the colostomy, but you’d had no care for his vanity when you’d had to make the decision to save his life. You didn’t care if he hated you because at least he’d be alive to tell you so. He’d gotten past it, mostly, especially once he was feeling better.

The entire ordeal had terrified him. Something had changed in him in those weeks he’d lingered between life and death, something he wasn’t ready to talk about just yet, but even with all the setbacks, his determination to come home was intensely motivating.

Which is why you’d wanted it to be special, and why it being Thanksgiving had so much meaning. Elvis was finally coming home. Then everything had gone to hell in a handbasket.

“I wanted everything to be perfect for you. You deserve it,” you say quietly, sniffling, holding him as tight as you dare without wanting to hurt him.

“Darlin’, just bein’ back home with you and Nicky is more than I ever dreamed of. I don’t need no big fancy dinner or welcome home committee. I jus’ need you.”

You pull back then, your heart about ready to burst, and look at him. He looks downright debonair with his silvery hair (which you’d convinced him not to dye back after it had grown out during his illness), freshly cut and shorter than it had been in years, fluffy but brushed back off his face in a style reminiscent to when he was younger. His apple cheeks are full and have more color than they’ve had in months.

“What?” he asks looking down at you, almost bashful under your gaze.

You reach up and cup his freshly shaven cheek, smooth and soft under your palm. Those deep ocean blue eyes of his threaten to swallow you whole. Staring into their depths, you don’t want to imagine a world without him in it anymore.

“I just love you,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out without choking up again. “So much.”

Eyes shining, Elvis pulls you up and into him. His lips are as sweet and as soft as you remember when they press into yours. The kiss is full of yearning, of love, and of everything you two have been through the past twenty years. It’s truly like coming home.

The kiss turns hungry then, more so than you expect. It’s been so very long since you’ve had each other in this way and it surprises you how readily your body remembers, despite all the pain and trauma you both have experienced. You open for him, and he moans when his tongue brushes against yours. A fiery wave of heat blisters through you then, hastily banishing away your tears.

Despite all the challenges you’ve faced over the years, you’ve always felt the pull of him in your soul. You’ve always wanted him, neededhim, even when you convinced yourself to forget because you thought you couldn’t have him. And now, after almost losing him for good, you can think of nothing else but him. The warmth of his body pressed against yours causes you to melt. The way his lips and hands roam over the curves of your body sends you soaring.

You thought you’d never have this again. It had almost broken you.

“I’m here, baby. I’m home, I promise,” he mutters into your skin, as if reading your mind.

You kiss him deeply, yanking him into you by his pretty shirt, taking his breath away.

He pulls away and presses his forehead to yours, and you can feel him sway on his feet, a little unbalanced.

“Good news—looks like Little Elvis is back in working order,” he says breathlessly, pressing his thickening erection into your belly. He seems pleasantly surprised.

Honestly, with everything dire that happened, it hadn’t even crossed your mind as a concern, but it makes sense that it could be an issue. You grin up at him with the knowledge that it isn’t, then roll your hips against him.

He groans. “Bad news—not sure I have the energy to do all the things I wanna to ya, and we got a house full of people.” Doesn’t stop him from grabbing a handful of your bottom, however.

“Oh, that’s never stopped us before, now has it?” you muse, walking your fingers gently down his chest and over his belly to palm his length.

“Lord have mercy, woman,” he moans, his eyes fluttering closed. You notice him lean more heavily on his cane and instantly ease up. One blue eye opens with a quirked brow. “Hey now, I din’t say stop.”

You laugh. “Well, it seems dinner is ruined anyhow,” you say, surveying the disaster of broken dishes and scattered food all over the floor, and the cold, raw turkey on the counter. “Maybe we better get you upstairs to rest.”

Rest is, of course, the furthest thing from your mind now, which you let him know with a little squeeze to his butt.

“Mmhmm, yes, I definitely need to lie down,” he mumbles as he peppers you with kisses. Suddenly, he freezes against you. “But, honey, I-I-I’m not sure how much I can do,” he whispers, a wave of uncertainty washing over him.

“Hey, it’s okay. We’ll take it slow. Real slow. One step at a time, like fumbling teenagers,” you say lightly, cupping his face and looking up into his eyes. “Or we can just kiss and hold each other. I’m just happy you’re here, baby.”

He nods, seemingly reassured by this. “I know I don’t say it as much as I should, but I thank God every day for you and for what we have together, Satnin,” he says quietly, brushing your hair behind your ear, kissing you gently. “I love you.”

Your heart and body ache for him. “We better get you upstairs to “rest”before I start crying again,” you snuffle, laughing, slowly walking with him toward the stairs.

“Well, tears aren’t entirely off the table…I can think of a couple good ways I can make you cry,” he teases, nibbling at your ear.

“Elvis Aaron, you did not just…” you gasp.

“What??” he says innocently. “Am I wrong?”

A shiver runs down your spine and settles in the heat of your belly.

You’ve missed him. Terribly.

But you do have so much to be thankful for this year, namely for the infuriatingly talented, generous, and stubborn man you married and are gingerly leading up the stairs for the first time in months.

In fact, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#a pink scarf thanksgiving #pink scarf universe #elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis 1977 #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis fic #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis imagine #big daddy elvis #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis fanfiction

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