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babydollmarauders · 1 year

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HITS DIFFERENT— JACK HUGHES

final part of the Midnights Fic List

summary: in which y/n and Jack were in a relationship for 4 years before deciding to go separate ways, but everything reminds her of him and y/n realizes she’s made a mistake by letting him go.

specific lyrics: “i washed my hands of us at the club, you made a mess of me. i pictured you with other girls in love, then threw up on the street.” and “they say that if it's right, you know. each bar plays our song, nothing has ever felt so wrong.” and “i find the artifacts, cried over a hat, cursed the space that i needed. i trace the evidence, make it make some sense why the wound is still bleedin'. you were the one that i loved.” and “i heard your key turn in the door down the hallway. is that your key in the door? is it okay? is it you?” and “i never don't cry at the bar. yeah, my sadness is contagious. i slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car.” and “love is a lie; shit my friends say to get me by.”

notes: i don't know how i feel about this one. i feel like i could've potentially done better, but anyways MIDNIGHTS FIC LIST IS OFFICIALLY DONE! it's a month later than i had originally wanted to finish it, but it's finally done!

the reflection staring back at me is a bit of a hot mess. mascara smudged, hair tousled, lipstick fading. i stare in the mirror until i feel the sting of the hot water on my hands, pulling them back with a hiss of pain. the alcohol running through my veins helps me avoid overthinking about this dingy club bathroom, my shoes sticking to the floor with every step. but the buzz does nothing to help with the thoughts that run through my mind when i hear the song that’s blasting from the speakers throughout the club.

“y/n/n, you good?” my head snaps over to Marie, her upper body peeking in through the bathroom door. one look at me makes her sigh. “you’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

“it’s our song.” i explain, as though she hasn’t heard the same excuse at every other bar we’ve been to in the past six months.

“i know it is, hun.” she gives me a pitiful smile, fully entering the grimy bathroom in order to grab my hand.

“it just feels so wrong hearing it without him.” tears well up in my eyes, my heart hurting just a little extra.

“let’s go get you another drink.” i give a numb nod in response, letting her lead me to our other friends that sit in a booth by the bar. at the sight of my state, they both give each other an unspoken glance before giving me a look of pity.

“i ordered you another tequila sunrise.” Beth tells me, sliding the drink towards me. i drop into the booth, muttering a short ‘thanks’ before gulping at the drink.

“lay it on us, babe. what’s on your mind tonight?” Lisa pipes up, sipping at her own drink and raising a brow at me.

“i just— they say that if it’s right, you know. and i thought we were right. but, it makes no sense because why didn’t i know until we broke up? i mean, i knew. obviously i knew, i followed him here from Michigan. but, i didn’t know know until we separated, ya know?”

“i’m gonna be honest, i only understood maybe half of what you just said.” Lisa says, making Beth and Marie giggle. “but love is a lie, y/n/n. sure, you can like someone enough to be with them for a long time, but romantic love? complete bullshit. it doesn’t exist. this isn’t the movies.”

“she’s right. and the quicker you realize that, the quicker you’ll get over him.” Marie nods, pointing at Lisa as she speaks while Beth hums in agreement.

“i don’t know if i’ll ever get over him. i love him. i miss him.” i whine. “i want him back. i don’t wanna be here. i want Jack.”

“alright, maybe it’s time we get you back home.” Beth sighs, tapping her thumbs on her phone. ordering an uber, i assume.

“i don’t wanna go home. i wanna see Jack.”

“you can’t see Jack, y/n. you’re drunk, and you guys broke up.” Marie pats my shoulder, helping me out of the booth and out of the club, the other two girls following behind us.

i continue mumbling to myself, my words slurred, and i’m eighty percent sure that the only actual audible word was my ex’s name.

“c’mon, hun. watch your head.” Lisa coos, helping me into the uber. “we’ll see you on tuesday, babe. get some sleep.”

Marie and Beth call out some goodbyes before Lisa shuts the car door, she motions for the guy up front to lower his window, whispering something to him before he starts off towards my house.

“would it be too late to ask to change the drop off location?” i ask him, anxiously playing with the strap of my purse as i speak.

“i’m sorry, ma’am. your friend just told me you might ask that. she said i’m under strict orders to take you straight to the predetermined destination.” i heave out a deep breath, slumping back into the seat of the car.

it doesn’t take too long to get to my apartment complex, muttering a ‘thank you’ to the man before sliding out of the vehicle and making my way up to my apartment. as soon as i make it into the apartment, i bee-line for my bedroom, stripping out of my club outfit and changing into some leggings and a tank top. i wipe off my makeup and throw my hair up before entering my closet. my sights set on the old USA Hockey sweatshirt on my shelf, i hop up, reaching for the article of clothing. however, as soon as i pull it down, something else comes tumbling down with it, falling to the floor in front of me.

slipping the sweatshirt on, i bend down to pick up the fallen item. holding it, tears prick the backs of my eyes as i realize what it is, Jack’s hat. his New York Yankees hat to be exact. my heart aches remembering the times he wore it. our Yankees game, date nights, even just lounging around the house. clutching the hat to my chest, i sink to the floor, sitting criss cross as i cry.

space. why did i think i needed space? i got plenty of space when he was always gone for roadies. fuck space. i just want him. my fingers trace the Yankees symbol, my tears falling down onto the dark blue fabric. why does it still hurt so bad? it’s been six months.

i know it may not help that i’m still in the same apartment we shared. every piece of this home reminds me of him. but it’s been much too hard to move. i tried looking at other apartments, but nothing felt as right as this one. i’m not ready to give up the last piece i have of the one i love.

too busy crying on the closet floor, i barely hear the lock on the front door turning. my head snaps up at the sound, trying to remember which of my friends have spare keys. Marie, Beth, and Lisa are the only ones, but i just left them. that only leaves two other options, Quinn or Jack. but, that i’m aware of, Quinn is still in Vancouver. i know he doesn’t have another game in New Jersey until next month. which only leaves Jack. i try not to get my hopes up, but i can’t help but wonder if it’s him, if he’s come back. the chances are slim. it’s been six months, why would he come back now?

i come to the decision that it’s probably Marie checking up on me. probably worried about the way i was when we parted not that long ago. it wouldn’t be the first time she’s checked on me.

footsteps thump against the wooden floors, getting closer to the bedroom, and i huddle further into the closet, hoping Marie will just leave me alone. tears still stream down my face as i clutch the hat closer to my chest, letting out silent sobs.

“y/n?”

that’s not Marie.

too exhausted, i opt out of leaving the closet, not even able to get myself to speak without being racked with sobs. i sniffle as i hear him pass the closet, the footsteps stop for a moment before i hear them start again, getting closer to the cracked open closet door. i don’t bother looking, fully believing that at this point i’m a mix of drunk and sleep deprived, just hearing things that aren’t there. i wipe at my eyes but the tears keep coming. i shift to bring my knees to my chest, the hat now gripped in my hands in front of me.

“oh, baby.” i hear from behind me before a body drops down beside me on the floor, pulling me into them. his cologne fills my senses, my face buried into his chest. the scent fills me with melancholy, memories of when he used to hold me close and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. comforting me. making me feel at home within his arms.

“it’s okay.” as if i summoned the whispers with my thoughts, his breath fans across my ear. “i’m here. i’ve got you. i’m right here.”

his reassurances calm me just slightly, but the real help is when he splays a hand along my chest, taking deep breaths. muscle memory takes over as i mimic his breathing.

“what are you doing here?” i ask once i’ve finally calmed enough to speak. i wipe at my nose with the sleeve of my sweatshirt, finally looking up into the blue eyes that peer down at me.

“Beth called me.” he whispers.

“she did?”

“yeah. she told me you’re not doing okay.” he confesses. “she didn’t tell me much more than that. just that she’d really appreciate if i checked on you.”

“you came over here in the middle of the night just to check on me?” i question. “you have a game tomorrow. you should be sleeping.”

“you’re a lot more important than a game.” his hand moves from my chest to cup my jaw. “i told you i would always be here for you, y/n. i meant it.”

“but, we broke up. i didn’t think you cared anymore.” a lone tear drops from my right eye as i speak.

“i’ll always care about you. i don’t think i can ever stop. i love you, y/n/n. and i know you said you wanted space, and i respected that, but i told you when we broke up that i would be here when you decided you were ready.” he pauses, his eyes scanning my face before he continues speaking. “and now i really hope you’re ready because these past few months have been hell without you.”

“i made a mistake. i don’t want space. i want you. you’re the only thing i’ve wanted since i was seventeen.” my voice is barely above a whisper, scared for his response.

“you have me. i’m right here.” his eyes jump between my own and my lips three times before he leans down. i meet him halfway, our lips pressing together in a slow kiss. gentle passion and love radiates between us, his hands cupping my face as mine grip the nape of his neck as if he'll disappear from my hold.

pulling away, his forehead leans against mine. my breath catches in my throat at the sight of the smile gracing his lips. a smile of my own spread across my face and i crane my neck to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

"i missed you so much." i admit. "moving on from boys in high school was so easy, but the heartbreak hit different this time."

"that's how you know it's real. we're real. there's no moving on from us." he tells me. "at least, not for me."

he pulls me in tighter against him, crashing his lips against mine once more, and i feel content again, my life being fixed with such a simple motion.

#midnights fic list #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #faithlynn’s writings <3 #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl blurb

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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gggreengoblin · 9 months

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2142 words. Inspired by this post and I put my own twist (and insecurities) into the mix. Girl!Daniel who was so in love with Max having a late quarter life crisis because of Kelly's instagram posts and stories during their summer break. Thanks to toastandvegemite and their brilliant mind. CW :: WAG (Kelly), girl!Daniel is a little bit depressed in this story

This is just a fiction, yes, not real. English is my 3rd language so please be gentel.

Daniel had never imagined that she would be standing at the food aisle, 7 pm on Tuesday, tears welling up in her eyes while looking for a specific brand of cooking chocolate. She had been listening to Lana del ray all day, now all she wanted was making the most chocolaty chocolate brownie that ever made for her pity party.

'Did you know a singer can still be looking like a sidepiece at thirty-three?' Every time she heard that part of the lyrics from 'A&W' her brittle heart crumble. Since when can song lyrics be so painful? Since when did she relate so much to a song.

Being a "sidepiece" might still be better than whatever kind of hell Daniel was in. Because Daniel was even more pathetic than "the other woman" or "the sidepiece". "The other woman" could at least have the person she loves, even if only for a moment. But Daniel could only admire the person she loved from a distance. Even that person didn't know if she had feelings for him.

The man she loved was spending his summer break on the Mediterranean Sea with his girlfriend. He was dancing with his beautiful and perfect girlfriend at a beautiful resort with amazing view. Remembering this put a heavy feeling in Daniel's chest. She wanted to lie down on the floor and cry her heart out. A little bit dramatic, she knew.

Daniel should unfollow Max and Kelly's instagram accounts. Seeing their insta story updates only makes things worse for Daniel. But that would bring up questions in people's minds. Maybe muting them would be enough.

Daniel took out her cell phone and opened Instagram when someone stood beside her and tapped Daniel on the shoulder. If Daniel didn't have good driver reflexes she would have dropped her phone.

"Jeepers! Max, what are you doing here? I thought you were still on vacation." Daniel removed the earphone she was wearing from her left ear.

Max just laughed.

Daniel looked into Max's shopping cart. He brought two big packs of cat litter.

"I came back to Monaco this afternoon. I'm out of litter so I have to buy some. What are you looking for?" Max looked at Daniel's shopping basket. Daniel has put in the eggs, flour and butter she needs for her brownies.

"Cooking chocolate and cocoa powder." Daniel took the closest chocolate and cocoa powder from her.

"What are you going to make?"

"Brownies."

Daniel looked at Max. Max was wearing a hat but Daniel knew that under the hat Max's normally brown hair had now turned blonde due to the Mediterranean summer sun. Max's facial skin also had a golden glow with a little hint of red on his cheeks. Seeing Max felt like looking directly at the sun, but it wasn't daniel's eyes that ached, it was her heart.

"I should go home now. Bye!"

Max held Daniel by the shoulders.

"Daniel, are you okay? You look tired?"

"Gee, thanks, Max." Daniel replied sarcastically.

Of course Max looked at daniel like she was not okay. Daniel was only wearing a hoodie and pajama bottoms, her hair in messy bun. Daniel usually still wears nice clothes and light makeup when she leaves her house, but she didn't have the energy or will to do any of that.

"I'm having a lot on my mind." Daniel wanted to hide from Max's eyes.

That blue eyes looked curious.

"I thought you were going to Perth for summer break."

Max took Daniel's shopping basket and put it in his cart.

"Let me come with you. I don't want you to be alone now. You don't look well."

Daniel did not protest. Who was she to say no to Max after not seeing him for almost a month. She followed Max to the self checkout. She stood behind max and studied the man's broad back.

"Do you need anything else?" Ask Max before they get to self checkout.

Daniel just shook her head. For a while she let herself listen to Lana while looking at Max. Max turned his back on Daniel, he wouldn't be able to see Daniel's pathetic face.

........

Arriving home, Daniel connected her cell phone to the sound system in her kitchen. She put the coffee mug and plate she used earlier into the sink. She also wiped down her kitchen island. Daniel was a little relieved she had cleaned out her apartment last night, at least Max wouldn't have seen her house in such a mess.

Max put her groceries on the kitchen island which had been wiped clean. Max had taken off the jacket and hat he was wearing. Now he sat on the barstool and watched Daniel without saying anything. Only lana's voice was heard between them.

Daniel took off the hoodie she was wearing and also her sweatpants and just left them bunch up on her bed. Now she was only wearing her merch t-shirt and cotton shorts. She didn't care. Max knew her for very long time, of course Max has seen Daniel in a worse condition than now.

Daniel opened her fridge and took out a can of redbull, she also took out the brownie recipe which she attached to the fridge using a piece of decorative magnet. She passed the redbull can to max who opened it immediately.

"I didn't know you could bake." Max said as he took a sip of his redbull.

Daniel took out the cake ingredients they had bought on the kitchen counter. He also took sliced almonds, chocochips and chocolate paste from the refrigerator.

"After becoming a test driver I had a lot of free time, Max. So I tried new things."

Max unknowingly touched on a sensitive topic for Daniel. One of the things that made it difficult for Daniel to fall asleep at night.

Becoming a Redbull development driver was not an easy thing for Daniel. Of course Redbull is a big team to be reckoned with, being part of Redbull is also an achievement but she had a dream to be able to compete in the grand prix. Became the first female driver since 1978. That dream was completely fading.

Daniel even had to fight with her teeth and nails to cling to that empty dream. Maybe she should had let go of her ridiculous dreams after turning 30. Moved on with dignity, return to Australia and settle down for good.

Before she could cry in front of Max, Daniel turned around and took the scales from one of the drawers. Daniel weighed all the ingredients she needed. Flour. Cocoa powder. Sugar. Butter. She chopped the cooking chocolate before weighing it.

"Aren't you happy, Daniel?"

"Do I look unhappy?" ask Daniel.

"Yes." Max answered quickly and honestly. "It was like you were about to cry."

"Like I said before, I've got a lot on my mind."

"What's wrong? Are you sick? How is your family?"

"Is it because of the money? Do you have financial problems so you can't go back to Australia during the break?" Max asked so quickly. Letting out of question after question is like releasing arrows.

Daniel took a large glass bowl and put the ingredients in for the batter. She wanted to whipped the batter manually. She wanted to feel her arm muscles got tired. She wanted to feel a little bit of muscle pain so that the pain in her heart would lessen.

Daniel beat the eggs and sugar using a medium sized whisk. After that he put the sifted flour and cocoa powder into the mix.

"Say something, Daniel. You can tell me anything. If you want to, of course."

Max looked at Daniel with his blue eyes. Blue maldives eyes.

Max was everything daniel wasn't. Male, young, successful.

"I'm fine, my family too. I have money, Redbull pays me well."

"So, what's going on?"

"I'm going through some kind of a crisis maybe. Like a quarter life crisis but in my 30s."

"I will cry if I talk about this."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with crying. Daniel, it's just me. You can cry if you want."

"Max, I don't know where to start. I have too much on my mind."

"Are you happy in Monaco?"

Daniel thought for a moment. Is she happy here? Does she feel happy coming home to an empty house? Everyone she knew slowly began to leave this place to make a new start, something serious, more precious, something they build brick by brick, something they would die for.

"I don't think so. I've been feeling isolated lately. I'm far from my family. My friends aren't here anymore. Every day I see only strangers."

Daniel put down her batter, washed her hands and sat beside Max.

"I feel left out. It's not that I want to- I don't know how to explain it."

"Just slowly, take your time."

She took a deep breath, a shaky one.

"I feel stupid for clinging to my dream of becoming a driver while we all know my chances are so small. Now I'm 34 years old, my dream has failed and I have nothing."

Daniel felt how her tears spilled out. So warm on her skin. Salty as they flowed past her speaking lips.

Max stood up and put his arm around her. Warping her in a warm comforting hug.

"So you want to leave the f1? Build a family?"

She nodded. "Leaving f1, yes. Starting a family doesn't seem like it. Too late."

"Of course it's not too late, you're still 34 years old."

"He already has a family." Daniel whispered into Max's chest. Her voice was small.

"Huh?"

"He's already build his own family." Daniel said louder. "He has a beautiful family. He has a beautiful woman, always perfect beside him. How can I compete with his girl, I look like- I'm so boring compared to her. And also a beautiful child." Daniel was crying so hard, letting everything out. Opened the flood gate. Drenching Max's shirt with her tears.

That was a relief. Saying it out loud gave her bruised heart a sense of freedom. Just like how her therapist said 'talking is fixing half of the problem, you can decompress negative emotion by talking'.

"It is not true, Daniel. You are beautiful. You are talented. You are smart."

God, She didn't want it to end. She wanted to buried in Max's arms forever. Enveloped by his perfume and warmth.

"Whoever he is, he'd be so stupid if he missed you."

Daniel let go of her hug. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her shirt. She felt her eyes begin to swell.

"Who's he?"

She was silent.

"Do I know him?"

"I guess."

"Nico?"

"Kevin?"

"Daniil?"

"No, Max. Don't make me say it. Don't make me admit anything, now."

"Daniil?" Max whispered. He was quiet enough as if talking to himself.

"I didn't want him to know. It is so pathetic. I don't want anyone to find it out."

Max just stood there. Eyes focused on his own hand. Deep in his tough, like he was trying to solve this little puzzle.

Daniel needed an escape. "Sorry your shirt got wet. Let me get you a new one. I have an oversized shirt that will fit you." She said in a too happy tone.

Daniel ran to her guest room, where she kept her stash of unsold merch. She should withdraw all of her stock merch when she no longer competing and joined redbull. She took a larger version of the shirt she was wearing. XL, she was hoping it would fit.

It's a little gross not to wash new clothes before wearing them, but bacteria won't survive in that t-shirt. The t-shirt had been stored for more than 1 year, of course no microorganism could survive that long without nutrients.

"Do you have time to wait for me to finish the brownies? Or is Kelly waiting for you and the cat litter?" Daniel gave the shirt to Max.

Max didn't hesitate to change his clothes in front of Daniel. He took off his t-shirt and exposing his slightly golden skin.

Daniel knew that Max always looks handsome when he wears black clothes. But Max wearing daniel's merch which is black? Damn, something churned in Daniel's heart.

"I can stay a little longer. I wonder what your brownies will taste like."

"Daniel, can you change the song. If you keep listening to sad songs like this, your mood will still be sad."

Daniel changed her playlist. She selects a random playlist from her spotify. She returned to mixing the batter and hoped that everything would be better tomorrow.

That day, she booked more appointments with her therapist while eating freshly baked brownies.

#maxiel #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #girl!Daniel #f1 rpf #maxiel fic #my fic

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winter-leftovers · 5 months

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Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter seventeen: A Little Bit Of Heaven (17/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Y/n and Douxie return to their old rutine. Jim has to face the tribunal

Word count: 1257

Warnings: no

(Season 2 Episodes: 10, 11)

Song?: Heaven by Mitski

Previous - Next

Masterlist

Y/n sipped Douxie’s leftover tea as he washed the dishes that were used over breakfast. She smiled to herself as she rebelled in the quiet domesticity. They had started to live together when they were just nineteen years old and they had the same small routine for a thousand years. Y/n would wake up and try to untangle herself from Douxie’s grasp only to be unsuccessful and lie there for another half hour until Douxie would turn for the last time in his sleep; then she would join their familiars in the kitchen who would be waiting for her to give them their morning pets even tho, Archie would never admit it; she would make breakfast for everyone: some kind of fish for the dragons-cats and whatever is in style at the time for them with two cups of tea with a little bit of milk because Douxie knows that Y/n always finishes his drink in the morning and he also knows that that’s her favorite morning drink.

“What are you looking at?” He asks without looking up.

“I missed this” she finishes the tea and puts Douxie’s cup in the sink. The familiar movement made her feel complete.

“I missed this too” he smiles.

“He really did” Al jumped on the counter “The first couple of years he would cry to a picture…”

“Ok…Ok…Shoo…shoo” Douxie splashes some water with his fingers making Al jump back to the floor.

“Hey” the cat complained.

“Hey! I wanted to hear the story” Y/n walked to Al and lifted him up “Tell me, Ali. How much did Douxie cry?” Y/n said mockingly

“Well…” they walked to the couch and Al started to recount all the times Douxie’s heart couldn’t contain the hurt of being apart from her girlfriend.

“Oh, I love these stories” Archie jumped to the couch and rested his head on Y/n’s elbow.

Douxie groaned but they ignored them, too interested in Al’s story. He groaned again, louder as the stories continued to pile up and the laughter would filled the room

“C’mon!” Douxie kneeled in front of Y/n and dropped his head on her lap.

“Hisirdoux” Y/n sang while she massaged Douxie’s scalp “Are you getting shy?”

“Mmmh”

Y/n laughed. Douxie had come a long way since their days in Camelot. In the olden days, he was a shy, clumsy teenager but now, in the 21st century Douxie was no longer a child or a shy teenager, he was a man, a charming man that had half of the population of Arcadia eating from the palm of his hands even if he doesn’t quite realize. But when it comes to Y/n, he returns to that reckless, shy boy in a man-bun that would marvel at the young prodigy from afar.

“Hisirdoux?” She repeated.

“No” he felt his cheeks burn. Without moving his head from her lap, Douxie hugged Y/n’s waist.

“Can I finish the story about the time you thought you saw her in Uruguay?” Al asked to Douxie’s scalp.

“No”

Y/n smiled “Oh, Doux” she stretched her hands and put them under his shirt. Y/n felt Douxie shiver. Smiling to herself as she felt the power she still had over him. She continued to lower herself until her mouth was over his ear “I love to hear how much you missed me” she whispered.

Douxie quickly lifted his face. His expression was serious but his cheeks were crimson.

“You’re such a tease” he whispered into her lips.

“Can’t help it” she smiled before kissing him.

“You are disgusting” Archie groaned as ran to the other side of the room followed by Al that would turn to look at them just to gag.

Y/n and Douxie pulled apart and to laugh.

“I think someone is jealous” said Douxie.

Archie sat down in front of the window, turning his head away from the couple.

“Arch, are you jealous?” Y/n shared a look with Douxie.

The cat didn’t answer, he just kept moving his tail side to side.

With a quick move of Y/n’s fingers, a red light engulfed Archie and the cat started floating back to the coach.

“Hey! I don’t like this” he complained.

“Well, I was worried” Y/n grab him from the air and hold him close to her chest like a child and the cat didn’t complain this time “I asked you something and you didn’t answer!”

Archie rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, Arch. Don’t be jea… Ouch!” Douxie tried to pet his familiar’s head but he hit him before he could get close.

“Don’t touch me” Archie warned and got comfortable in Y/n’s arms.

“What?!” Douxie looked up to Y/n for help and she just laughed.

“Aw, you missed me too, Arch” Y/n lowered herself to kiss none-stop Archie’s head. He pretended to fight at first but after a couple seconds of purrs he gave in.

“And I was the dramatic one” Al whispered from his new spot on Douxie’s lap.

“We all know I’m Arch favorite” Y/n said into Archie’s head.

The cat didn’t answer, he was too lost in the comfort the touch of her lost friend was giving him.

“I’m not sure I like your lack of answer there, Arch” Douxie half joked “Aren’t you going to say anything?” He gently shook Al that was laying belly up, grooming his left paw

“I’m really sure about my place in the world” he said and continued grooming his paw.

The wizards chuckled.

—

Y/n walked out of the store after a quiet shift when Toby’s screams made her stop.

“Toby? What’s going on?” She meet him halfway.

“It’s Jim” the boy to pull her by the arm “The tribunal has him in a cage. You have to come with me!” The boy pulled harder. He was desperate, scared. The memory of his friend sitting in that cage was haunting him, especially because he wasn’t able to do anything.

“What? Why?” She followed him without complaining.

“Gunmar got out”

Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine. The war was over. They won. The Darklands were supposed to be a secure prison, nothing was supposed to get out.

They ran to TrollMarket in silence, both too consumed in nervousness to talk. The darkness of the dungeon wrapping their brains.

One of Krubera opened Jim’s cage.

“Are you alright?” Asked Blinky

Jim came out of the cage charging but stopped when he saw his friends.

“Are you okay? Did they rough you up?” Claire ran to hug him.

“No, Claire. I’m…I’m okay!” He smiled and joined Toby to the hug

“We’ve come to escort you to the tribunal” Blinky pointed to the exit, eyes full of worry.

“They say if you’re found guilty, you could die. Is that true?” Toby looked at his friend for a hopeful answer.

“He would walk free if he surrenders the Amulet” Queen Usurna interrupted “What is your choice, Trollhunter?”

“Uh, the one where he doesn’t die?” Toby said.

“No” Jim took a step forward “I’m keeping my Amulet” without taking his eyes off of Usurna he put his armor on.

“Is that what you want?” Y/n put a hand on her little brother’s shoulder.

“Yes, Y/n. Never been more sure” Jim smiled and turned to the rest of the room “I’ll face whatever comes my way”

“Jim…” Toby’s desperate call for his friend was drowned by Usurna’s voice.

“So be it, Trollhunter, your trial awaits”

A/n: its 23:12 and its 28C. Im ready to sleep for 14 hour until I have to leave my house again. Tell me again why I was born in such a hot and humid country? I’ll try to write and chat with you more often! Mila out

#tales of arcadia #douxie x reader #douxie #toa #trollhunters #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux x reader #my writing #Til The End Of Eternity

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visualbutterflysworld · 10 months

Text

Trash Magic | Vhackerr

Warning: depression, miscommunication, angst, sweet smut

Reader has been feeling down. Vinnie, who’s never seen this side of her, is afraid she may break up with him or secretly seeing someone else.

Uhhh yeah. This was different. Inspired by Lana’s song !!

37 days. It has been 37 days since Vinnie last saw his girl smile. Genuinely smile, he means. The look on her face is always the same. No sparkle in her eyes. No shine from her body. Just the same ol dead pan looked. The quick answers. The distance.

At first, Vinnie simply thought she started her monthly but even after a day or two she’ll go back to her bouncy self. The ambivert girl he’s grown to know and love has simply disappeared. Maybe it’s him? Did he do something wrong? Maybe, she was sick of him. In Vinnie’s eyes that’s how it seemed.

Little did he know that his girl was suffering from depression. Her antidepressants-that she kept hidden from him- weren’t working. Life was starting to feel like a chore again. Of course, she could’ve talked to Vinnie but she didn’t. She didn’t want him to see her like this. It didn’t help with the media shipping him with another girl. Another girl that wasn’t of color. She was pretty, Y/n would not lie but she also couldn’t help feeling doubtful.

Vinnie was just gonna leave her right? She was better. It was always someone else. Vinnie was just gonna push her away. That’s what Y/n thought. Some people could be so cruel about their relationship. Y/n had learn a long time ago that she shouldn’t care what people thought but, on days like these, she couldn’t help herself.

She’s prettier than you!

She’s better than you!

Vinnie and her would make such a better couple!

You’re just in the way!

Those were thoughts she simply couldn’t ignore. It didn’t help with the other thoughts that were way worse. Y/n sat on the cold floor as she looked at her phone. The comments on Vinnie’s last post were of them shipping Vinnie and the girl. What made Y/n come out of her thoughts was a knock at the door.

“Y/n. We really need to talk.” Vinnie’s said. Here it was. The moment he was gonna dump her. It was too much. It felt like too much. “Y/n?” Vinnie asked again and that’s when the water works began. Y/n curled up into a ball and laid on her side. The door quickly opened and she felt a breeze as Vinnie walked over to her.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s okay.” Vinnie pulled Y/n into his arms. She clutched onto his shirt and hid her face as she continue to cry. Vinnie pushed himself against the wall and massaged Y/n hair. “Shh. Baby, it’s okay.” Vinnie whispered. “Please, Vinnie! Please, don’t leave me! Please!” She screamed. Vinnie’s eyes widen. What was she talking about?

“Vinnie, I’m sorry! Please, don’t leave me!” She cried harder. “Baby. Y/n, darling, what are you talking about? I’m right here. What’s wrong.” Vinnie asked. “You’re gonna leave me! You came in here to break up with me! I’m so sorry. Please don’t go!” She wrapped her arms around his neck. Holding onto him tight. Vinnie couldn’t help but to feel his heart crack.

Why on earth would he leave her? Where would she get these ideas from. Vinnie rubbed her back in small circles as he tried to calm her down. Vinnie scanned the room to notice a medicine bottle on the sink counter. Squinting his eyes he saw the words. He let out a breath as he realized she must be having a episode.

As he got her to focus on her breathing and calm down a bit. Just enough to have her sniffling he finally spoke. “Y/n, I’m not breaking up with you. I thought you were leaving me. I would never do anything to hurt you. You know this. Do you want to talk about what’s been bothering you, now?” Vinnie asked as Y/n slowly leaned away. “My…my antidepressants haven’t been working lately and everyone is saying how you’d look better with someone else. I guess, I started to believe them.”

Vinnie smiled softly before putting his hands on her face. Squishing her cheeks together. “Babydoll, I don’t want to be with anyone else besides you. I..you’re simply my everything. It’s my job to make sure you’re happy. You can’t hide these things from me, okay? You have to tell me when you’re feeling down.” Y/n smiled as her face made a silly look. Vinnie softly laughing before pecking her in the lips.

“Okay?” He asked again. “Okay. Pinky promise.” Y/n said. Vinnie smiled again and kissed her. This time was a full on snog. She could feel the love he had for her. The passion he had. The hunger. He pulled her closer. He had to tell her how he felt. This was one of the ways he could.

Y/n gasped as she felt herself be picked up. Vinnie using this opportunity to slip his tongue in. It wasn’t long until they were on his bed. Y/n completely undressed and him still in his boxers. He kissed her neck and down to her chest. “So pretty.” He whispered but loud enough to make her thighs clutch. Tugging on her nipple for a second before doing the same to the other.

He slowly parted her legs and smoothly slipped a in finger into her. Her back arching as she felt him stretch her out. Going slowly at first but faster when she closed her mouth from the silent moans. “So fucking tight.” He looked down to see where his finger was going in and out at a fast pace. “Vinnie.” She moaned before grabbing the sheets under her.

Vinnie slowed down and soon his face was right in front of her sex. “So fucking pretty too. Such a pretty cunt. Made just for me.” Vinnie growled before he flattened his tongue against her clit. Y/n jolted from the action. Trying to back away but Vinnie held her down by her hips. His tongue entering her. Eating her as if she was his last meal.

The moans he got from her were sent from heaven. He had found that spot that makes her buck in a few short seconds. It wasn’t long until she was coming. Cries and pleases came as he helped her with her high. Lapping up every drop. He brought his head up with a smile as he saw her warn out, just by his tongue. Her breathing was fast but was slowly going back to it’s normal speed. “You taste fucking amazing.” He praised as he rubbed her swollen clit.

Vinnie knew how much she liked being praised. He didn’t have to be inside her to know her walls clutched. Vinnie kissing back up to her face. Leaving love bites and hickeys here and there. He quickly grabbed a condom and placed it on his aching dick. Slamming into her without warning. “Fuck, Vinnie!” Y/n moaned her back aching. He put his arm under her back pulling her closer to me. “That’s it baby. Give into me. You’re the only girl I want.” Vinnie grunted as he pulled out, so far only his tip was in.

Her arms going around his neck and slowly slipping down to his back. Scratching at the pleasure he gave. “God, baby.” Y/n screamed. He was going fast but it felt so slow. Like the world had stop for them and them only. “I love you, baby. So fucking much.” Vinnie groaned as he placed a hand on the headboard. That was it. The world had stop.

Vinnie had said the three magic words. The words that Y/n needed to hear. She didn’t realize she had started crying again. “I love you too, Vinnie! I love you more than anything.” And at the same time. They both released. In pure ecstasy. The words that had been dying to roll out for them both.

All they needed was to hear the other say ‘I love you’.

#vincent hacker #vinnie hacker #bwwm couples #bwwmromance #oneshot #vhackerr #vinnie hacker smut #love #angst

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chaotic-goodsir · 4 months

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prompt 100 for curtwen?

Thanks for the ask! Despite my plans this ended up being much too long for a drabble and a little bit angsty for fluff, but here you go anyway 😅

(Shout out to the Curtwen song of all time Tongues and Teeth by The Crane Wives for some of the inspiration for this...)

Curt wakes in the middle of the night to find Owen isn’t there.

The realisation hits with a jolt of panic, and he’s wide awake at once. There’s no light on in the en-suite, no sign of Owen’s presence in the room except for the crumpled sheets on his side of the bed and the door sitting slightly ajar.

Curt scrambles out of bed, throwing on yesterday’s shirt that he left on the floor, and heads out into the hall.

The house is dark. There’s a bright moon outside tonight, and a pale glow reaching in through the windows, but none of the lights are on. Curt tries the study first, guest room, bathroom. His mother’s bedroom door is closed, and he can hear her snoring faintly inside.

He heads downstairs, all too aware that he can’t hear any movement except his own footsteps on the tiled floor. He wonders for a horrible, anxious moment if Owen has left the safehouse altogether, made a break for it now that Curt’s guard is down.

Then he sees the figure through the kitchen window, standing motionless on the drive.

The safehouse is close to the sea, looking out at the shoreline from this direction, so Owen’s shape is silhouetted against the moonlight reflected on the water. He’s wearing the blue plaid dressing gown that Curt’s mother keeps for guests, The light fabric flutters behind him in the breeze.

Curt opens the kitchen door. It creaks, and Owen spins around, startled.

He looks like he’s been crying.

Curt has only seen Owen cry once before, six months ago on a staircase while Curt held a gun trained on his forehead. Every day since, Curt thanks whatever god exists or cares that he didn’t fire that gun.

‘Hey,’ he says now. standing awkwardly in the doorway in his shirt and boxers. ‘I woke up and you were gone, so…’

‘I needed some air.’

‘Okay.’ Curt says, eyes falling on Owen’s hands shaking at his sides. Owen notices and quickly shoves them in the pockets of the dressing gown.

‘I’m fine, Curt. Please go inside.’

‘What if I said no? I mean, no offense, but I don’t exactly trust you not to run. And technically you’re on house arrest, so you shouldn’t be out here at all.’

He tries to make the last part sound light-hearted, but Owen doesn’t look amused.

‘Why should you care, if I did run?’ he says bitterly. ‘Wouldn’t that be for the best?’

Curt stares at him. He steps down from the doorway, but Owen turns away, looking back towards the shoreline.

‘You’re better off without me. So’s your mother. God knows she’s been a saint, putting up with all of this.’

‘My mom doesn’t mind.’ Curt walks up beside him and tries to put a hand on his arm. Owen flinches away so violently at the sudden touch that Curt’s chest aches.

‘That isn’t the point! And this is exactly what I mean. Everything you’ve both done for me, it’s because you want someone else, someone who doesn’t do that, for god’s sake. Maybe you think if you try hard enough I’ll change back, become that person again. But that isn’t how this works, love. And I don’t deserve the effort.’

He doesn’t look at Curt while he says it, just directs all his anger at the sea, which carries on its usual murmur of waves, indifferent to both of them. Curt watches Owen’s face screw up in frustration, watches his hands dart around as he talks, hears the private-school accent slip a little the way it always does when he’s upset. The way it always has done.

‘I’m not trying to change you,’ He says quietly.

Owen turns to look at him. From here, Curt can see the red in his eyes, the dark circles under them. Owen told him he’d been sleeping better recently - now he wonders if that was a lie, to get him to stop asking.

Owen shakes his head. ‘You really don’t have to lie to me.’

‘I’m not,’ Curt says, hearing his own voice crack a little. ‘There’s nothing I would change about you.’

He puts a hand on Owen’s arm again, and Owen doesn’t flinch this time - just looks down at it, frowning, like he’s never seen Curts hand before.

‘I mean I’d change what happened, yeah. All of it, if I could. But you… you’re still the person I love. I know you think you’re not, but I see it, even if you don’t. I thought you were gone, and now I have you back, and I wouldn’t change that for the fucking world, Owen.’ He can feel the tears on his face now, but he’s always cried so much more easily than Owen. There’s no point being ashamed about it. ‘Okay? So don’t you dare run off on me because you think you’re this – I don’t know, this monster or whatever. So what if you are! You were pretty messed up before and I loved you then. Why wouldn’t I still love you now?’

He's gripping Owen’s arm too tightly now, he realises. He lets go, stands there catching his breath after saying so much so quickly. He hadn’t meant to – the words just started pouring out, and he’s so tired of not telling Owen how much he needs him to stay. Now that he’s started he’s not sure he’ll ever stop.

For a moment Owen just stares at him, mouth slightly open like he doesn’t know how to reply. Then he seems to pull himself together, and smiles slightly.

‘Messed up before, was I?’ He says, raising an eyebrow.

See, Curt thinks. There you are.

‘Come on. You know it.’

Owen laughs, stepping closer. Slowly, he lifts a hand to Curt's face and wipes a tear from his cheek with the dressing-gown sleeve.

‘Then I suppose it would be true to character if I kissed you right now, in plain view, in front of your mother’s home, while you’re telling me I’m a monster that you nonetheless love?’

‘Oh, yeah. Definitely.’

‘Mm. Good.’ Owen says, and does exactly that.

#thanks again for the ask anon!#i hope you like it :)#owen can have some dramatic staring at the ocean #as a treat #curt charging past every red flag on purpose #spies are forever #curtwen #writing prompt asks #my writing

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 7 months

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Die From A Broken Heart

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Characters: Elvis Presley, Reader, Original Female Character

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1837

Summary: Was it ever really real, if he don't feel like I feel?

Tags/Warnings: Established Relationship, Break-ups, Crying, Angst, Mother-Daughter Relationships, Arguments, Fights, End of Relationship, Song Lyrics, Parallel Fic, Song Fic, Die From A Broken Heart // Maddie & Tae

Notes: This is directly linked to Tennessee Orange

ELVIS MASTERLIST // SONG LINK // HALLOWEEN MASTERLIST

‘Hello?’ my mother said, the sound of her voice causing comfort to shroud me, the way only a mother’s voice can.

‘Mama?’ I asked.

‘Oh hi darlin’,’ she said, her smile detectable through the phone, ‘to what do I owe this pleasure? I thought you said the next time you’d managed to get to call would be Sunday.’

‘Oh, yeah,’ I mumbled, feeling the comfort she had provided ebb as I suddenly remembered my reason for calling. When I remembered the wet black tracks of mascara that were still adorning my cheeks, the reason I needed comfort in the first place.

‘Everything okay honey?’ she asked no doubt concerned at my mumblings. Yet her concern didn’t do anything but turn the relief that flowed through my veins at her presence to sadness and embarrassment. I didn’t know why. After all, I had called her with the intention of telling her everything and yet now I was here I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to because whilst I was sure she’d be comforting there’d no doubt be an air of ‘I told you so’ coating whatever words she offered me and that was something I wasn’t sure I was ready to face just yet. So, I didn’t.

‘Fine,’ I sniffed, trying to push the remnants of tears back inside me, ‘actually, I just rang for some advice.’

‘Oh, well I can tell ya what I know. I don’t know if it’ll be much help mind. What is it baby?’ she chuckled. It was then I realised I didn’t know what I was going to ask her. It had been a deflecting technique, a stupid one. It was only when I clocked the dress I had been wearing last night crumpled on the floor I found the words coming out of my mouth as I said, ‘how do you get red wine out of a dress?’

‘Oh, uh well lotsa folks say putting white wine on it helps but I personally think that’s a loada hooey,’ she chuckled earning a meek laugh from myself in response, ‘but you’re probably better putting some white vinegar on it and then a little dish soap. Should bring it right out, well providing you ain’t let it stain, have you?’

‘Oh, uh yeah, I didn’t think about it,’ I mumbled.

‘Well it might not come out if it’s set but no harm in giving it a try. What dress is it?’ she asked.

‘That um, blue one that Elvis bought me,’ I replied feeling another wave of sadness grapple at me.

‘The one you wore when we went out to dinner the last time we came up?’ she asked earning a mumble of agreement from me, ‘oh that’s too bad I loved that one. Still, I’m sure he could buy you another.’

‘Maybe,’ I said.

‘How’d it happen anyway?’ she asked, ‘it wasn’t your wine I hope.’

‘Of course not,’ I lied, though she seemed to be able to read this one as there was suspicion in her tone as she said, ‘mm well, I should hope not.’

There was a pause, one that was only punctuated by a tiny sniffle though it seemed after our dance around the topic of underage drinking her mothering senses were heightened as she said, ‘are you okay?’

‘Fine,’ I lied again, hoping this one she wouldn’t be able to sniff out this lie as easily, ‘must be coming down with something.’

‘A hangover?’ she mused.

‘Mama,’ I warned making her chuckle.

Her laugh wrapped around me like a blanket, warming me from the outside in, and at that moment I remembered why I’d called. I’d called because I needed my mom. All the chastising and judgement aside I knew that there was only one person who’d make me feel a tiny bit less hopeless. No one here could do that mostly because it felt as though there was no hope in the entire situation yet her radiant laugh did. But it wasn’t enough, I needed more. I needed her to hug me and tell me everything was alright though that was hard to do given she was hundreds of miles away which is why I said, ‘can I ask you a question?’

‘More laundry dilemmas?’ she said.

‘No…can I come and stay with you…just for a few days,’ I said.

‘Of course you can. Any time you know that,’ she said taken aback by my request but I didn’t stop.

‘Good because I was thinking of coming this weekend or maybe next,’ I said.

‘That’s soon,’ she said.

‘Thought I could come any time?’ I challenged, hoping she wouldn’t make me wait.

‘Oh don’t be like you know your daddy and I love havin’ you any time I’m just sayin’ it’s a bit short notice that’s all!’ she sighed making me frown guiltily. I hadn’t meant to sound mean but the idea of the only ounce of comfort I’d been offered in the last few days being snatched away suddenly felt like too much to bear. My mother seemed to notice I was quiet and her voice dripped with concern as she said, ‘everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, trying to push the sadness from me. I should’ve just told her; I mean it was the reason I had called her in the first place and yet I couldn’t bring myself to because I didn’t want to face it. Not properly. I didn’t want her to pity me, to think me a fool who hadn’t seen this situation coming a mile off. After all, that was what mothers did right? Saw their daughter’s mistakes before they made them. She’d seen it coming off the bat and yet she’d allowed me to protest it was right for me in order to let me see for myself.

‘Honey,’ she said, and that was all it took for me to crack, for the floodgates to open once more as fresh tears ran down my face, a sob escaping me.

‘Mom everything’s a wreck,’ I said, gasping for breath as I tried to keep my sobs at bay.

‘What happened?’ she asked.

‘Me and Elvis had a fight, a huge one,’ I cried, ‘I think it’s over.’

‘Oh honey,’ she said sympathetically.

‘Please don’t tell Daddy,’ I said quickly. If my embarrassment around my mother knowing the truth of how this entire thing had blown up in my face was bad my father knowing was a whole different ball game.

‘Darlin,’ she said.

‘Don’t! He’ll come barrelling down here with his gun I bet ya! Please don’t tell him,’ I begged. See that was the problem. Whilst both of them had seen it coming, able to see through the fairy tale of Elvis and I they’d both see it in different ways. Whilst my mother would think me foolish for not having heeded her words my father would see it as Elvis’ fault. The last thing I needed was my father putting a .45 in Elvis’ heart for breaking mine.

‘And when you come home cryin’ what do I tell him then huh?’ she asked. She had a point. When I dragged myself home all pathetic and mopey what was I supposed to say to my father then. It made another wave of sadness flow through me.

‘Oh mama I’m such an idiot!’ I said as the tears flowed down my face, dropping black marks onto the skirt of my dress no doubt ruining anther garment.

‘Oh you’re not an idiot,’ she sighed, ‘you’re young.’

‘And dumb,’ I added, ‘I just…I thought he loved me, the way I love him.’

‘Oh sweetheart,’ she said.

‘But how can he? I mean if he can just walk away after a fight like that, he can’t right?’

‘Maybe he just needs time to cool off. Heck this might be one of those things you two laugh about one day,’ she said and though I could tell she was putting in so much effort to make me feel better it failed to even help one iota. Because she hadn’t seen it.

She hadn’t seen how the boy I loved beyond anything, the boy I’d moved my entire life for, had forgotten about me. How he’d become taken with the appeals of fame, the fans, the money. She hadn’t seen how the boy who had once raced home to be with me now stayed out on the road. How he’d forget to call me and even when he did how those phone calls always felt as though he was dying to get away, sometimes to get to whoever was sitting on the other side of the line with him. She hadn’t seen how when I’d told him I missed him, how unhappy I was living in this big old house with just his parents for company he’d told me I was ungrateful. How we’d screamed at each other. How he’d told me to go because I obviously didn’t love him anymore. She hadn’t seen the way he’d climbed in his car for yet another tour without so much a backward glance at me. She hadn’t watched me rattle around his room for the last few days hoping he’d call, that we’d apologise and laugh like she’d mentioned, only to find that call wasn’t coming.

I’d thought he loved me and yet he was willing to walk away from it in one night.

‘You didn’t see the way he left here,’ I said, another sob escaping me, ‘I’ve been prayin’ he’d come back. Cryin’ so hard I thought I go blind…oh Mama I’m an idiot.’

‘My daughter is no idiot!’ my mother said firmly, ‘she’s a lovin’and kind girl who put her trust in someone and well…sometimes it doesn’t always go the way you think…but…’

‘But?’ I said with a sniffle tyring not to sound too hopeful about whatever she was going to say.

‘Look maybe you both just need a minute okay,’ she said, ‘how about you give him some time to cool off? You cool off here, let me and daddy take care of ya and then in a few days you can see how the land lies and well if it’s not meant to be it ain’t the end of the world. You can always come back home darlin’.’

‘Promise?’ I asked.

‘Promise,’ she said earning the smallest of smiles from my lips. I wasn’t one hundred per cent fixed. I knew that what me and Elvis were going through might not be salvageable and though I was sure my mother knew it too, and no doubt longed to tell me I was foolish for having hoped in the first place, she didn’t. She gave me the comfort I longed for, the comfort only a mama can bring. And though it wasn’t enough to fix everything it was enough to make me feel as though I might be able to get through this broken heart, even if I had to move home to do it.

I wanna kick myself for falling so hard

Mama, can you die from a broken heart?

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #halloween challenge #halloween #elvis fic #elvis presley fic #die from a broken heart

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hardbeingcasual · 1 year

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WHERE DO WE GO NOW? x fem reader

WARNINGS: Suicide, blood, angst, grief, Y/N mention

SUMMARY: After your boyfriend Henry takes his own life due to his brother Sam getting bit and turning, you struggle to deal with the grief as you have to leave both Henry and Sam behind.

notes: i’m not even going to lie i made this for me i LOVEEE henry , title is a gracie abrams song ⭐️ haven’t read over this so sorry if it suckssssss

update as of nov 2023 ….. gracie abrams is a Freakkk so pretend the title isnt her song…. i’m not removing it incase people wanted 2 come back to this so yeah

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You, Henry and Joel all wake up in alert as you hear screaming and snarling coming from the room Ellie and Sam had slept in the night before. Before you could even properly wake up Ellie comes running through, Sam on her tail, but it wasn’t actually Sam. He had turned into one of the infected. Your heart hurts at the sight of it.

Joel quickly tries to get the gun that was on the floor but Henry was quick and beat him to it, he aims the gun at Joel who tries to help Ellie, but then Henry shoots the floor. He then turns to his brother who was still trying to bite Ellie on the floor and puts the bullet right in his head. You flinch at the sound of the gunshot as tears brim at your eyes at the sight of the young boy lifeless on the floor.!

“Ellie, are you okay?” Joel pants as he stares at the young girl with concern, he tries to go forward to comfort her but Henry then aims the gun at him again.

“Henry—” You try to speak but Joel gives you a look that told you to stop.

“What did I do?” Henry mutters.

“Wha—What’d I do?” He stammers as he tries to process whatever just happened moments prior. “Sam.”

“Give me the gun,” Joel instructs, Henry does not. “Give me the gun.” Henry looks back at his little brother before raising the gun to the side of his head, “HENRY NO!” Joel shouts as Henry makes eye contact with you and pulling the trigger.

“NO!” You cry out as Henrys body falls to the ground. You feel sick to your stomach as you see the person you loved the most on the ground, lifeless and unmoving. You let sobs escape you as your shaking hands cover your face to hide yourself from the world.

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You stare off into the distance as you were sat next to the graves Joel had dug for Henry and Sam. You put your head on your knees as some tears escape your eyes at the thought of them not being here anymore. You hear footsteps behind you but you didn’t move an inch.

“Hey, Y/N,” It was Ellie. “We’re leaving.” She states.

Before Henry and Sam had passed, the three of you had decided you’d go to Wyoming with Joel and Ellie to Joel’s brothers. You didn’t even move an inch when Ellie had came over to you.

You could feel both Joel and Ellies stares on you but you didn’t care. All you wanted to do was wallow in self pity. “Just go. I’ll stay here, with them.” Ellie and Joel share a look. Ellie makes her way over to you and sits next to you, before wrapping her arms around you, in a hug. You let the young girl hug you as you were deep down the spiral of grief to care about anything going on at the moment.

Ellie breaks the thick silence, “I know what it’s like.” She pauses, as your head lifts from your knees to look at hers. Your blood shot eyes making contact with hers. “To loose someone you care about.” She finishes as she notices a stray tear that slipped out of your eye.

You let her words sink in, you look back at the graves. Henry’s. Then Sam’s. You sigh as you feel your lips start to tremble. “Let’s go then.” Your croaky voice breaks Joel and Ellie from their thoughts. “They wouldn’t want me sitting here like an idiot.” You say, looking down sadly down at the graves that held your boys. You grab your bag Ellie had brought over for you, launching it over your shoulder and walking west. Not noticing Ellie leave Sam’s little writing thing he used to communicate with those who couldn’t do sign language. The words Ellie had written on it were ‘I’m sorry’

tags @zndayacc

#henry tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfic #joel miller #ellie williams #henry and sam #henry burrell #henry burell fanfic #sam and henry

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imaginesfora3 · 11 months

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Give and Take [Takato Tasuku]

Tasuku was never one to lie.

You could see the irritation in his face, the way he was to keep a polite yet blank look while he was speaking. Ever the brilliant actor, he feigned politeness with ease but the subtle little twitch of his brow told you all you need to know. You’re tempted to save him but then remember the harsh words you exchanged earlier, the smile dropping from your face so quickly the others around you grew concerned.

‘Maybe we shouldn’t be together.’

He had said it with such conviction, as if the case was closed and you could offer up no counter. And you really couldn’t. His words had shattered the part of your soul that might whip up a snippy retort, instead your lower lip quivered as you tried to ignore the implications behind what he just said. Was he breaking up with you?

Perhaps it was inevitable that he broke your heart. He had warned you from day one that he wasn’t meant for relationships, that everyone he had even bothered having had fallen apart before long. You had willingly taken the plunge with him again because the thought of him not being yours felt unbearable but… wasn’t this worse? Having to feel him slipping through your fingers like sand, the strength of your grip irrelevant? If you never knew what it was to love the real Takato Tasuku, would your heart still be in tact?

You seat yourself at a table as far from others as possible, your social battery drained before the real party had even begun. You’re afraid you might cry unprompted if someone tried to strike up a conversation with you, knowing it would lead to them asking for a reason and you weren’t ready to speak what had happened out loud. So, you sit alone, sipping wine, keeping an eye out for the breaker of your heart.

You get caught up in your thoughts as a slower song comes on, a memory rushing to the forefront of your mind. It reminded you of an older play Tasuku had been practicing for, asking for your help along the way to practice lines. It was always a thrill to watch him transform up close so you couldn’t deny him. The play, the relationship between the two characters you were playing, was never meant to be a romantic one yet there was a certain intensity to the scene that led you to be standing closer than normal. You liked to think a small bit of reality was bleeding into the fantasy you were both enacting, passion too strong to be stopped by any boundary.

He had been the one to make the first move, hands holding either side of your face as he gave you a lip crushing kiss. Tasuku, or his character? You nearly gasped out his name, shattering the immersion, but a tiny voice in your brain told you to hush. If you broke his concentration, he’d snap out of it and move away, and you didn’t really want that, did you?

You can still see his face now, the way he pulled away with an unreadable expression on his face. You kept eye contact with him even as his hands slowly fell from your face to rest at his sides.

“…Do you do that with all your scene partners?”

You had never seen him flustered before but what a beautiful sight it was, color blossoming across his face quicker than he could cover it up. You wanted to ask him then and there- was that you? Were you kissing me? Or was it Sir Leander, too caught up in the moment with his ward, driven to an emotional edge and desperately needing an outlet?

You never did ask. Things just happened, and suddenly he was yours.

‘Was.’ Your brain emphasized.

‘Was.’ Your heart cried.

Your drink desperately needed to be refilled but your legs don’t feel much like working. You were surprised you had even stood and chatted for as long as you did. You stayed seated, staring at the ever dwindling remainder of your drink; you took smalls sips like you were traveling through the desert and didn’t know when you’d get another chance to hydrate. You began wondering how embarrassing it would be if you just dragged yourself across the floor to get to your next cup, taking shelter under the bar for the rest of the party. Your daydreams of peace are interrupted when a shadow loomed over you, blocking out the glittery lights that were covering everyone in the room now that DJ Disco had arrived to the party.

You don’t have to look up to guess who it is.

What did you want him to say?

‘We need to talk.’

No. That would be too much. You couldn’t handle that right now, you couldn’t handle anything from him at all. Gods above, you needed another drink stat.

“Do you need a refill?”

What a considerate bastard he was. Not surprising, to you at least. Others might be surprised at his consideration, he could be direct and rude more often than not, but he knew how to handle you with care. He knew little things about you, noticed habits that you hadn’t even realized yourself, it was almost like he was doing a character study on you. He had said once while under the influence (which you just considered him being even more truthful than normal) that he could simply watch you be for hours on end. He didn’t even seem embarrassed for saying it, the tiny, almost devilish smile on his face making you wonder if he was teasing you.

You hadn’t given him a verbal response but he didn’t need one. By the time you had pulled yourself out of your reverie he had appeared again with a full glass of wine, placing it delicately in front of you before he seated himself beside you. You considered chugging it, downing glass after glass and making him get you a new one each time, not giving him a chance to open up a conversation you didn’t want to have. But you knew with one more glass you’d only make yourself look like a fool, passing out on the table before the party was even halfway over.

Azuma and Tsumugi stood off to the side, enjoying the vibes rather than being directly involved in any of the partying. They had been a trio until Tasuku had noticed an opening, a chance to talk to you smoothly rather than abruptly butting in and demanding your attention.

“I think I said the wrong thing.”

“What could you have said that love can’t repair?” Azuma had asked quite playfully, not necessarily thinking those words were true but still having faith that Tasuku couldn’t possibly be that insensitive. But the look on Tsumugi’s face told Tasuku that his childhood friend still knew him best of all.

When Azuma’s face falls, his mouth set in a hard, thin line, Tasuku knew he was in for it. As the adults at the dorm their conversations were always nuanced; they knew humans had faults, that slights could be seen from a different angle and take on a whole new meaning, there were endless words of wisdom shared when they spent time together. But wrong was wrong. He had said the one thing he knew would hurt you most, he had pulled the rug out from under you and attacked the thing you were most self-conscious about.

Tasuku remembered, as he sat across from you now, a moment that had happened nearly a year ago now; he remembered it as if it happened yesterday. The way you had collapsed into his arms, gripping his shirt like it was the only thing that could anchor you, tears soaking you both. He could hardly make out what you were saying in the moment so rather than come up with some thoughtless response he had held you, hand rubbing your back reminding you that you were here and real and safe.

Later, when he thought about it, he managed to piece your teary mumbled sentences together.

‘You left me.’

He had never done such a thing in reality, so the only conclusion he could come to was that it was a bad dream. It was silly to cry over something that wasn’t real, and he might have even said that if he didn’t see firsthand how it hurt you. How deeply did you feel for him that you’d have a reaction like that? How scared were you that he’d leave with no hesitation? He didn’t know the answer to those questions. He didn’t know how he’d react either.

“Do you think they’ll talk to him?”

“I wouldn’t,” Azuma responded smoothly, the easy smile that remained on his face nearly making Tsumugi let out a nervous laugh, “Personally, I’d let him mull it over a bit longer.”

“…I don’t think he realized how much it would…” Tasuku had hurt Tsumugi once before too, with thoughtless words and actions; it had been shown they both needed to grow in the long run. And he was sure the same was true for you two as well.

To grow as a couple, Tasuku would need to be more vulnerable and you…would need to place more trust in him. That might not be easy after tonight but…

Tsumugi had seen firsthand the deep look of concentration on Tasuku’s face after ‘the incident’, something Tasuku had mentioned so casually that Tsumugi nearly fell over from shock. Romance had never been an issue for either one of them, they never gossiped or had late night talks about crushes that had them giggling or kicking their feet but that night Tasuku had talked about you at length.

They had both laid down in their respective beds, staring up at the dark ceiling of the room, sharing a whispered conversation just for them. It had started with memories, new and old, then to how they’d changed yet still stayed the same. Tasuku had paused when they talked about everyone they’d met since joining Mankai, how these new people taught them both something in one way or another. Tsumugi had been the one to bring up your name, very much on purpose, thinking back to the moment Tasuku had dropped on him without expanding on it earlier.

“I think I…” He trailed off, never giving his roommate an answer before nodding off.

Tsumugi couldn’t help but quietly laugh to himself.

“Good for you.”

After explaining what had happened that night there weren’t many solutions they could come up with; Azuma seemed to think giving you space was a bad idea, that even if you looked away at first it was clear you wanted to talk. Tsumugi had to take into account how Tasuku would react, studying his best friends face.

This was something that was weighing on him.

It was proof enough that Tasuku hadn’t meant what he said.

“Take it back,” Tsumugi offered up simply, “Tell them you made a mistake and take back what you said.”

“…This isn’t some schoolyard bullying or something,” Tasuku had grumbled out, but he seemed to think about it. Azuma shared a raised eyebrow look with Tsumugi but before much else could be said, Tasuku had disappeared and then reappeared at the island you had placed yourself on.

Where now it was the two of you, with nowhere else to go.

Man, you wished your legs worked.

“…There’s something I’ve always been curious about.” You want to shut up but you can’t find it in you, the liquid courage (or stupidity) refusing to let you be silent any longer. “That night we first kissed… I know you were in the moment. But was it… was it you that wanted to kiss me? Really you? Or was it just another role taken too far?”

His roles were him. He became the character written on the page, emulated them in every way he could, even taking the mundane way they might live daily life and incorporating it into the exciting events of the actual story the audience would see. There were little parts of him in each character just like each character gave a little part to him, a love letter from screenwriter to actor and from actor to audience. He had never thought about that moment as him just playing a part because he had always been there, present in the moment, so painfully aware of the tension between you.

Was that something his character would have done truly? Or had Tasuku been so overwhelmed by his own passions that he had acted out and taken advantage of a situation that set the two of you so close together?

You’re sorry that you asked, sorry that you have to sit here with your own assumptions as he took far too long to answer what you thought was a simple question. He suddenly reached out to touch you, hand over top of yours, direct eye contact that you couldn’t hold.

“It was me.”

“Are you sure about that? Wouldn’t that just be admitting you weren’t playing the role as thoroughly as you could’ve been?”

He let out an annoyed huff, but his answer didn’t change.

“It was me.”

“…I want to go home, Tasuku. I want to go home and talk some more. But you’re not allowed to break up with me.” He looked a little bewildered at your direct statement, but it began to dawn on you… Had he never even considered it? Despite what he had said to you over a silly little difference in opinion, that maybe you shouldn’t be together, had he not overthought what he said and turned it around in his mind a million times? Had it just been an accidental frustrated slip?

“I don’t plan on it,” He responded coolly, “I should get you home. I don’t think you can walk out of here in one piece.”

“You’re most certainly correct.” You take another sip from your wine. “You’re going to explain to me every single little thought in your head tonight, and you’re gonna make me understand… what that was all about, okay? And we’re going to actually talk and you’re not going to get grumpy and walk away because you don’t know how to explain your emotions.”

Tasuku sighed, glancing over briefly at Azuma and Tsumugi who smoothly turned their heads to pretend they hadn’t been overseeing him like he was their toddler apologizing to a teacher for acting out.

“I’ll do my best,” He finally muttered, “Just let me take you home so we can be alone.”

“Okay.”

You supposed you could trust him, truly trust him, even if that little voice in the back of your head was still frightened of what may come.

#Takato Tasuku #Tasuku Takato #A3!#act! addict! actors!#a3 act addict actors #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3 imagines #a3 x reader #Takato Tasuku x Reader #a3 takato tasuku #scenario

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months

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Hi again! Still not a request for mini-prompts lol, but more songs. This time it’s specifically about Julian :)

I was listening to Will Wood while working on some art, and I didn’t realize how many songs remind me of him! I found some new favorites, so I thought I’d share them. Excuse the titles on these, some of them are really long ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ || CW for mentions of alcoholism, pills, sickness, death, and angst!!!

- Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Mary Bell Township! (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally

The instrumental is so jaunty and jazzy that he’s the first character I thought of. The lyrics, not so much, but It’ll do. Will Wood has a pretty versatile voice, so I think it fits Julian!

- Love Me, Normally

The instrumental also fits that jazzy, dramatic vibe of his- and this time, the lyrics do too. These are ones that stuck out to me:

“Won't follow my dreams/ No, they've all got me waking up screaming / I drank myself to death to be the afterlife of the party/ When the afterparty came, I was rolling in my grave”

- Marsha, Thankk You for the Dialectics, but I Need You to Leave

This one makes me think about how it must have felt being locked in the dungeons during the plague. Valdemar mentioned in Julian’s route that he was a jokester (even though they have the worst sense of humor) who tried to keep the mood high as a way to cope with the situation. If anyone told me he didn’t lose a bit (a LOT) of himself down there I’d probably just laugh, because that was literally traumatic. These are the lyrics i’d quote to envision that:

“Cause back in my day we didn't need no feel-good pills and no psychiatrists / No, we just drank ourselves to death, and god damn it, we liked it”

“Who makes the call? What's a symptom, what's a flaw? / Can it be both? Well I suppose that's an answer / Would you give up your humanity for just a touch of sanity / Cause God knows it's not like it's cancer”

“And a little conformity never hurt nobody / But lately I've been worried that you're losing yourself / So how many milligrams of you are still left in there/ Cause back in my day we didn't need no feel-good pills and no psychiatrists”

- Laplace’s Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!)

This makes me think about his anxiety and depression concerning his supposed murder of Count Lucio. He’s made it clear that he really believes he’s guilty, awful, filthy and however else you would describe a murderer. He took the “truth” of his past and made it his identity.

“Have you ever died in a nightmare / Woke up surprised you hadn't earned your fate /Could you take a look at me / Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad?”

“It doesn't take a killer to murder / It only takes a reason to kill / We've all got evidence of innocence, it's 'everything's coincidence' the / Difference twixt fate and free will is whether you're singing”

“So if you wash your hands of where you've been until you flood the second floor /Neatly fold your skeletons but still can't shut the closet door”

- Euthanasia

I can’t lie, this one made me cry a little bit. He definitely took the blame for MC catching the plague and dying from it under his watch. I started to feel second hand guilt. He knew there was nothing he could do to help us once we got really sick, and it hurt so bad. People say he would have a sort of sassy voice (picture Tulio from Road to El Dorado), and I agree! But imagining him singing this song just breaks me.

“Say you're not scared / That you know it's because I cared and / Say you know I love you, and that hope was just not there”

“And I know, I know that I'm wrong / That when you're gone, you're gone / And I can't bring you home/ But I want, I want to believe / That you'll remember me / When you're just memory”

“And every, everybody dies / Fighting for their lives / Just trying to survive / Well, now I know, I know why we say / That there's a better place /That waits beyond the grave”

That’s all I’ve got for now, and I’d like to hear other opinions on these songs too! This is just my personal analysis, and obviously I really love Julian enough to spend 2 hours doing this. I hope you like these as much as I do ^_^ Thanks for all you do, Brainrot!

@vegaspng you are not alone in thinking Will Wood songs fit Julian at all, I can't count the amount of songs that have been recommended for him by that artist and at this point it's halfway canon in my head XD

Thanks for breaking them down lyrics wise too! It's so cool to listen to songs the way other people do and share that common experience ^.^

I'm putting these on the playlist and the tag, thank you friend! :D

#ask arcana brainrot #arcana brainrot playlist #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #julian devorak #julian the arcana #the arcana game

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quietlyimplode · 2 years

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Do u think you could write something with Clint and Natasha using one of the two (very similar) dialogue prompts?

“Do you trust me?”

“Only you.”

“You would trust the word of a spy?”

“Only this one.”

Hey Anon! Thank you for the prompt, it took me a little while to think of this one, so I hope it sort of meets expectations.

(Bwf2022, 1k, warnings for a fight I guess, probably others - if you want this to hurt a bit more may I suggest the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.)

Run Boy Run (this world is not meant for you)

Dear Clint.

The paper sits inert underneath her pen, and she wonders just how to put this in words.

‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t cut it.

‘I didn’t mean it’ seems stupid.

Because she’s not sorry, and she does mean it, and she promised she’d never lie.

She scrunches the paper and starts again.

Clint.

Do you trust me?

I hope you do, because if you do then you know what I’m doing is necessary.

Needed.

Do you trust the word of a spy?

Can you?

If the tables were turned, I’m not sure I could.

But it’s you.

I’m sorry this can’t be a conversation.

Know that this needs to be like this, needs to be covert and only me.

I’m not betraying you.

Trust me.

She signs off, folds the paper into a paper crane and puts it in his jacket pocket.

The sleeping pill she put in his food should make it so that he doesn’t wake up for another twelve hours, and she hopes there’s no side effects.

It feels wrong.

The black widow indeed.

At least she hadn’t killed him, only sent him into a deep sleep.

Natasha knows he won’t find her, not in Moscow.

She just needs to find Yelena.

If she pretends to be still operational for the KGB she may still have a chance.

The blonde assassin their mark had said, and she knew, it could only be her sister.

She kisses Clint’s temple, whispers she’s sorry, grabs her bag and leaves.

“Yelena,” Natasha shouts, gun drawn as her sister shoots at her.

There’s no reaction.

She whistles loud and the gunfire stops.

A ceasefire.

Wild eyes look over to her as she offers her arms in surrender.

“It’s me, little sister,” she says in Russian.

“Come with me.”

The first shot goes wide but the second hits her in the chest, the third glides by her side slicing across her clothing.

“TRAITOR,” the blonde, brainwashed spy yells, as she sprints towards Natasha.

“You betrayed all of us,” she hisses.

This is not her sister.

She can tell that she’s under some sort of control, her eyes don’t focus and her body moves predictably and mechanically.

A knife comes from nowhere, and Natasha feels it held to her throat, pushing in, pushing hard.

She can feel where the bullet is embedded in her vest, where it’s burrowed in and met resistance against her chest.

She can’t breathe.

Her side is dripping blood and the knife is all she can focus on.

“No,” comes a squeaking.

Yelena is fighting the programming.

The knife comes away, wild eyes meet hers.

“Run,” Yelena whispers.

“They’re coming. They’ll take you too.”

Fear pulses through Natasha as she sees the light fade from Yelena’s eyes.

She’s gone again, and the knife reappears.

This time, she’s ready.

She ignores the pain that pulsates, and disarms the knife from her, punching her twice and pushing her to the ground.

The sound of helicopters is more like vibrations in the air, and Natasha knows, Yelena wasn’t lying.

She’s failed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to the glass eyes that watch her.

And she runs.

Clint finds her in Beijing, blood clothes strewn on the floor, shivering on the bed.

“Nat.”

He calls her name, hoping for some sort of recognition.

“I failed.”

It’s only been two days.

He inches closer, finding her in her bra and shorts, deep bruising all over her body.

“You been fighting without me?”

“I failed,” she says again, this time it’s accompanied by tears.

This is new.

Natasha doesn’t cry. He’s scared now.

“What do you mean?”

He looks around for a towel, something, anything to help her, maybe bring her back to the present.

“Yelena, I found her, but they were there, they took her.”

Her words mean nothing to him, and he hopes that the coming reprimand from Fury is worth this venture.

“Who’s Yelena?” he asks softly, finally finding a towel, it already has blood on it.

“My sister,” she cries, “my sister.”

She tells a story of Ohio.

Of Alexei, and Melina.

And of her little sister.

Of innocence, and fear.

Clint thinks he needs a stiff drink as her trauma eats at his soul.

He makes her food that she doesn’t eat, and then keeps her talking.

She lays in his lap like a small child who’s sick.

She cries for her sister that can’t meet her where she is, that’s still under the control of a totalitarian government, that controls women.

She talks into the night, of their secret whistle, hiding spots when Alexei got angry and secret foods that the smuggled into their tree house.

Natasha talks, til she can’t cry or talk any more, and Clint feels his heart squeeze at the mention of protective siblings.

She hasn’t been part of shield for as long as he has.

But he knows with all his heart and soul that she is, was, worth saving.

As day breaks, she sleeps.

He lets her, booking flights home, letting Coulson and Fury know that they’re coming home.

Predictably, they both ask for a full debrief of why Strike Team are in China.

He ignores it.

“I’m sorry,” comes a quiet voice.

Her voice hiccups.

“Do you still trust me?” she whispers.

He smiles, moves closer to her as she cowers and wraps her arms around herself, expecting retribution.

“Only you,” he assures, “always you.”

She feels different when they arrive back to base.

Natasha is angry, at life, and the circumstances that have been served to both her and Yelena.

But it gives her some resolve.

This life, it’s not her own.

She owes her life to those that brought her up and kept her alive.

And that’s not the Red Room.

Natasha squeezes Clint’s hand before quickly letting go, takes a deep breath and walks into Fury’s office.

She’s going to get Yelena back.

She swears it on her life.

#black widow fic #natasha romanoff #black widow #yelena belova fic #natasha romanoff fic #nat and yelena #clintasha fic #clintasha #clint barton #hawkeye #my fic #clintasha fanfiction #bwf2022

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inkaanki · 11 months

Text

Letter buried in the backyard

why didn’t my father love me? why are his hand prints burned across me, when he never held me? why do my lovers suck their teeth at the sight of me when my lights are dim? why do I fall from so very high? why do some of them get lost forever looking for my worm? when will i shine in the sunlight and grow? where were my feathers, where were my fangs? how little i was. how does something come from nothing? or am i nothing just like him? was it like looking into a mirror, all black irises and silence? did you choose to name a shadow ‘daughter’? was I ever even yours? why is my heart so heavy when there’s nothing there? i wonder if you ever lie in bed wondering about me? i wonder if you wake in the middle of the night clutching your chest with my laughter ringing in your ears. i wonder if you go out walking in the night with my hair floating all around you? i wonder if the hush of early morning reminds you of my eyes? I wonder if an old picture of me wrinkles in the corner of your wallet. I wonder if an image of me hangs above the mantle in your mind. did you miss me everyday, watching my yards of black hair flying past? do you regret the things you never gave me? are there mountains of letters in a deposit box explaining everything? Will they make a difference?

you made me a painter, you gave me visions, you gave me sight beyond sight. you were my first blank canvas. will you die and never let me know? why didn’t you love me? why did i want you to? were you afraid you’d love me too much? Were you afraid you’d love yourself? Did you ever try? did I bury you, do you still hear me calling him daddy? It’s the most I ever told you. Do you hear it in the creaking floorboards and bird songs? Do you turn your head hoping its me? Do you stop strangers in the street thinking you’ve seen me? i hope you remember the timbre of my voice. did you want us to have the exact same wounds? why didn’t your father ever love you? Were you worthless and small? Did you cry yourself to sleep as your mother slept? Did you starve in plain sight? Did the wind beat your stomach like a drum? Did you feast on anyone who showed you the least bit of kindness? Did you scream when the blood on your skin turned cold? did you think of me while mopping floors and kneading dough? did a room of diners eat my love? Was there just never any left at the end of the day? We’re you a dying mule? Did you cross a river that licked up all my love before you came home? will i ever be healed? will i ever be released? will i ever stop cowering at bouquets of flowers? will i ever stop turning love to coins i can count? will i ever be able to open my palms without wincing? why didn’t you love me? why don’t you love me now?

you were my first broken promise. i wonder why you stayed to give us nothing. when will i be done hating you? didn’t you see how my arms hung just like yours? why am i so scared of you? why can’t i tell you all these things? am i afraid to know that you loved me all along and said nothing? am i afraid that there’s someone inside who still reaches across the years for you? is this how you planned it, so i would always think of you?

#me #fathers day #prose poem #this is my father’s day poemish thing i wrote a thousand years ago

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elanaspodstudiosem2 · 2 years

Text

Making for Crit

So following on from deciding to use my habit of controlled breathing to slow and calm myself down I thought I’d start my making process by doing some meditation. I found a 5 minute meditation on Spotify and then queued some gentle piano music after it so I wouldn’t get distracted by changing songs or anything. So I sat down in front of my blank canvases, closed my eyes and started with the meditation. It really helped me slow down, clear my mind and get into a really relaxed state. The gentle piano music started straight after and I slowly opened my eyes, looking at my canvas and started drawing with pencil on it. Playing the piano music helped to keep me in a relaxed state of mind while I drew and painted. I first used a pencil and drew on both canvases - just letting my mind and body draw what they wanted for however long, not overthinking anything. Once I was done with the pencil, I painted on top of it with some blue paint, again just painting what I felt in the moment. At one point I actually started crying haha… It was really weird, I’d just been so calm and it was all of a sudden really emotional. Interesting what comes out when I’m not over thinking everything. I think I just felt really safe in that moment and felt safe and content enough to put any feelings onto the canvas. Once I had finished drawing and painting, I sat back and looked at the canvases for a minute slowly coming out of the state I’d been in, before stopping the music and finishing.

I did the paintings in my room this first time - I felt like it was something personal that I wanted to explore privately first and I’m glad I did. The meditation was such an interesting exploration and I’m so glad I did it. It’s going to be part of my making process every time now.

Once the paint had dried, I drew over some parts of it with pencil again before ‘glazing’ it / covering it with the watery white paint. At first I did it with the painting sitting up but I found it was easier with the second one to lie it down on the floor and then pour the white paint mixture over the top of it and then spread it however I wished to with my hands. The white paint mixture did dry a little bit more transparent than I had hoped but I still really love the layering/covering effect and think the final outcome is really cool.

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artbyelana · 2 years

Text

Making Crit

So following on from deciding to use my habit of controlled breathing to slow and calm myself down I thought I'd start my making process by doing some meditation. I found a 5 minute meditation on Spotify and then queued some gentle piano music after it so I wouldn't get distracted by changing songs or anything. So I sat down in front of my blank canvases, closed my eyes and started with the meditation. It really helped me slow down, clear my mind and get into a really relaxed state. The gentle piano music started straight after and I slowly opened my eyes, looking at my canvas and started drawing with pencil on it. Playing the piano music helped to keep me in a relaxed state of mind while I drew and painted. I first used a pencil and drew on both canvases - just letting my mind and body draw what they wanted for however long, not overthinking anything. Once I was done with the pencil, I painted on top of it with some blue paint, again just painting what I felt in the moment. At one point I actually started crying haha... It was really weird, I'd just been so calm and it was all of a sudden really emotional. Interesting what comes out when I'm not over thinking everything. I think I just felt really safe in that moment and felt safe and content enough to put any feelings onto the canvas. Once I had finished drawing and painting, I sat back and looked at the canvases for a minute slowly coming out of the state I'd been in, before stopping the music and finishing.

I did the paintings in my room this first time - I felt like it was something personal that I wanted to explore privately first and I'm glad I did. The meditation was such an interesting exploration and I'm so glad I did it. It's going to be part of my making process every time now.

^ One of the paintings drying.

Once the paint had dried, I drew over some parts of it with pencil again before 'glazing' it / covering it with the watery white paint. At first I did it with the painting sitting up but I found it was easier with the second one to lie it down on the floor and then pour the white paint mixture over the top of it and then spread it however I wished to with my hands. The white paint mixture did dry a little bit more transparent than I had hoped but I still really love the layering/covering effect and think the final outcome is really cool.

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

please

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Bucky needed to be spoiled.

word count: 1.2k

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! sub!bucky (more or less), handjob, mention of bodily fluids, praise!kink, language, cockwarming.

author notes: this isn't proofread, sorry for possible mistakes. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

“Oh, fu— fuck”.

A muffled moaning escaped his lips when your thumb caressed his reddened tip. Since Bucky woke you up some minutes ago, with curses and groans, you knew perfectly what he needed. Now he was sprawled between your legs and his back was stuck to your chest. The soldier tossed his head to your shoulder, having a better view of his tongue strongly licking his lips and his eyelids closed.

Your right hand pumped his most sensitive skin, up and down, at a medium pace. Enough to please him, but not to make him cum too soon. Bucky was stirring under your strokes, gripping his balls with his cold fingers as the flesh ones got tangled in your hair. Sometimes, he just needed to be touched. Touched by you, and no one else. Be treated with care and tenderness. The last mission had some complications and that took its toll.

“Does it feel good?” You whispered using a honeyed tone of voice into his ear.

“God… yes… so damn good, doll”. He replied as he could.

“You deserve it”. You hummed spreading sweet kisses on the connection of vibranium and skin.

Increasing the pace a little more just to tease him, Bucky responded with a soft growl, rubbing his abdomen with the palm of his free hand, slightly stretching back his head. His hard cock felt warmer with every move of your fingers around it, using some more pressure to give him an added pleasure. Bucky had to settle himself better against your chest, stealing the air from his lungs when you nailed your teeth in his neck. His digits got closed tighter in the back of your head, watching him trying to breathe through his parted lips.

James wasn't too loud while having sex, except in moments like those where your only purpose was to make him enjoy. He couldn't control his vocals, babbling your name with a wrecked tone. You used the tip of your tongue to draw a mark on his skin, sucking and hollowing your cheeks slightly. You loved to mark your territory, although those hickies never lasted longer than a day.

“Puts your hands on my thighs”. You ordered him, placing your legs over his to keep them wide open at any moment.

He obeyed with a soft pout, landing your free fingers on his balls to massage them slowly, contrary to how you were pumping his firm dick. Bucky would never recognize it, but he loved when you took control and told him what he should do. Tilting his head, he kissed you slowly, invading his mouth with your tongue as you felt his anxiety by digging his fingertips in the sides of your legs. Both were hungry for each other, jerking his length faster till earning again his moans and his curses.

Bucky looked like the most beautiful piece of art with the pearls of sweat decorating his forehead and some tufts of his black hair stuck on it. He bit his bottom lip fixing his pale blue eyes on yours, not needing words to express to you what you were making him feel.

“You're such a good boy, aren't you?” You purred against his lips, brushing them with yours. “My good boy”.

“Yes… I am”. Bucky whined when the pleasure started to be too much for his body.

“Of course you are, and you belong to me”. You spoke this time with a hoarse voice that gave him goosebumps, watching your boyfriend swallow. “Say it”.

“'M… you— yours, doll… only yours… I swear it”. His dick was twitching between your fingers, getting tensed as you squeezed his balls tighter. “Fu— Fuck… I need to… I need to cum…”

“Beg for it, my good boy”. You murmured, licking his parted lips with the tip of your tongue while slowing down the pace of your strokes, causing him to sob.

“Don' be… petty, doll… C'mon… C'mon, lemme cum, please”. Bucky growled in gasps, starting to rock his hips against your hand unconsciously.

He needed to release all the frustration running through his body. And he wanted you to help him with it. For you, it was a little funny how easy it was to make your big bad boyfriend plead. Although he hated you for it, trying to do his best to not push you apart and finish by himself.

“Baby, ple— please… Please…” Bucky moaned closing his eyes strongly, gripping your thighs with his huge hands. “God… I ca— can't wait… I can't…”

“You 'gonna disobey me?”

At the moment you replaced your left hand from his balls to his throat, forcing him to look at you again, his breathing became erratic, keen. His chest rose and fell furiously, not being able to control a single action of his anatomy.

“Please…” He begged you one last time, feeling all his blood concentrated in a concrete point of his cock and the knot within his low abdomen growing. “Doll… please.

“Cum for me. Now, James”. You commanded jerking him off faster than before, receiving a delighted cry from him.

Soon, the white ropes fell and stained his torso. His whole body was shaking, his Adam's apple was dancing under the palm of your hand still gripping his throat, the toes of his feet were curled and his abdomen was tense because of the orgasm exploding within him. Shutting up his vocals by devouring his mouth, your tongue fought his with dominance, while he was trying to breathe through his nose.

Collecting his arousal with your fingertips, you broke the kiss leaving him running out of air, sucking clean your digits under his attentive and exhausted gaze.

“Should be illegal to taste like that”. You purred giving him a whole show. “Wanna try it?”

“Please”. He mumbled leaning his head enough to lick your lips and suck the tip of your tongue. Bucky couldn't help but gasp at the savor of his jizz mixed with your saliva.

Not saying a single word, after placing one last kiss on his sweaty forehead, you stood up from your bed to go to the bathroom. Wetting a small towel with warm water, you came back to find your big soldier lying on his back and trying to recover. You kneeled on the mattress to clean first his face from the sweat, before continuing with his chest and abdomen and finishing with his —yet— twitching erection. Bucky sighed because of the careful caress, placing his hand made of vibranium on your back.

You tossed the towel somewhere over the floor, stripping yourself after that to lie by his side. “Come here…”

Using a sweet thread of voice, you urged him to turn and to let you embrace him. What he wasn't expecting was one of your hands to be snaked among your bodies, while you put a leg over his waist. Bucky understood your intentions when he was buried deep inside your soaked walls, sinking a more than pleased growl in your neck. He closed his arms around your body, forcing his cock to beyond your limits and holding it within your warm pussy.

“You're an angel, babydoll”. Bucky whimpered, feeling your walls clenching his sensible erection. “I love you… I love you”.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it and/or reblog it.

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

Can I request a prompt of dad!Harry where maybe it’s just him And Sasha and they get mobbed and her slightly hurt but he is furious

JUST A LESSON

word count: 5k+ (how'd i write this in one day)

warnings: language, smut, blood, minor injuries

- If you'd like more from dad!harry verse - check out my masterlist! (pinned post)

- PLEASE NOTE: DAD!HARRY & CEO!HARRY ARE TWO DIFFERENT TROPES.

*** <- click for visuals throughout the story!

---

Harry was quite stressed out. He wasn’t sure how his wife did it all the time. She was constantly packing up Sasha and toting her around the globe to meet up with him for concerts and events when he was away.

The little family had been staying in their Los Angeles home for nearly three months now as Harry had been writing for his third solo album. It involved a lot of late nights were Y/N were putting Sasha to bed by herself.

Harry was eternally grateful that she was so patient and understanding when he snuck into bed quarter past three after finding a rift that fit a new song perfectly or when Mitch had an idea that had Harry on Skype for hours with him.

The stress was overwhelming for her though. She was usually good at self-care and taking time for herself but Sasha had been so needy lately and crabby when her father wasn’t at her beck and call.

The toddler was going through a bout where she struggled to sleep through the night and had a tendency to scream bloody murder when she didn’t get her way.

It was nearly three weeks of this and she hadn’t mentioned it too much to Harry because she didn’t want him to be as stressed out as she was.

Tonight, Y/N had rocked, sang, hummed, and read to her daughter to stop the angry tears that were rolling down her cheeks but nothing was working. It was near eleven at night and she had took Sasha out in the car for a long ride where she finally fell asleep.

But as soon as Y/N unlocked the front door, she startled awake even angrier than before, squirming out her mother’s grip and bolting through the house. When she tried to round a corner, she slipped on her bum.

Y/N felt her anxiety level break.

Sasha began screaming once again, “Mummy! No! No!”

When Y/N picked her up after her slight tumble, she was absolutely not hurt but had become even more frustrated. Y/N was starting to feel overwhelmed - which didn’t happen often.

“Baby, what do you want? What can mummy do?” Y/N asks with desperation, searching her baby’s watery green eyes. She looked so much like her dad it was absurd.

“No! Down! Stop!” The two year old orders with a furrowed brow, lips in a tight line with her nose scrunched up in displeasure.

“Sasha, you just hurt yourself. You can’t run in the house, the floor is slippery,” Y/N tells her firmly despite it falling upon deaf ears.

“Bad mummy,” Sasha shrieks, “Daddy! Want Daddy! Now!”

Y/N is embarrassed to admit that she has tears welling up in her eyes. She was trying everything in her power to soothe her baby. It’s midnight at this point and she’d been at it since seven this morning.

Sasha had refused a nap all day - giving Y/N no respite at all. Harry had left at eight in the morning and hadn’t returned yet. Even though Sasha was only two and a half, Y/N felt a pang at the words ‘bad mummy.’

She didn’t feel any other option at this point than to call Harry for help. She wanted to be capable of being at stay home mum but sometimes it was really fucking hard but she felt guilty because she should be able to do this. Harry was out there working hard, providing, constantly.

When he doesn’t answer, the tears freely start streaming down her face in silence. She scrubs at them quickly so that her daughter doesn’t see them but it’s hard to catch them all - sobs threatening to bubble through her lips.

“Daddy’s working, we need to go to sleep,” Y/N replies to her daughter, jaw clenched to hold back the upset she feels. She needs a minute alone but she doubts her toddler will let her.

“Pool?” Sasha piques, “Swim?”

Y/N wants to laugh, it’s so fucking late and Sasha should have been in bed nearly four hours ago. The mother was so beyond her routine at this point, that she actually just gave in to her daughter.

Sasha’s mood turns around when Y/N wrangles them both into their swimsuits ***and trails out of the back patio, switching on all the lights around as well as in the pool. The California air was still extremely warm, enough to cause a sweat. ***

She tugs a little donut raft into the pool with them that Sasha can float around on while Y/N guides it to keep her safe. She was so tired by this point that her bones felt like they weighed a million pounds.

Sasha’s eyes droop until they finally flutter close within minutes of being in the warm water. Her eyelids splotchy pink from all of the fits and tears from the day. And when she is completely asleep, Y/N lets herself cry as she continues to float the baby around the pool to keep her asleep.

She hasn’t been doing it for more than ten minutes when the patio door opens and Harry is stepping into the back with a confused expression that she can’t see because her back is turned to him.

“Love, why are you in the pool? S’late,” Harry asks softly but he doesn’t get an answer, so he’s slipping out of his plain tee and striped pants, dirty vans kicked to the side ***.

Just in his briefs, he quietly enters the pool to not disrupt the ebb and flow of the water. When he makes his way over to her, he slides in front of his wife, alarmed at the exhausted, tearful expression on her face.

“Baby, what’s happened? Talk t’me,” Harry whispers, hands coming to cup his wife’s face in between his large hands. Rings cold against her hot, wet cheeks. He looks to his sleeping daughter, running his eyes over her a few times and decides she seems completely okay.

“M’fine,” Y/N chokes out but the lie causes a fresh wave of tears.

Harry frowns, “Don’t lie to me, pet. Please, don’t shut me out. M’always here for you.”

“I’m a bad mum,” She sobs silently, her eyes closing as she leans into his palms before moving to rest her head heavily on the crook of his tattooed shoulder, his chest damp from the salty tears.

“Wha-What’s brought this on? Y’the best mum in the world, best wife in the world. The best at everythin’, why are you doubtin’ that, my heart?” Harry murmurs, taking over the rocking motions of Sasha’s raft.

“She wouldn’t settle today, Harry. Like at all, refusing to nap, eat any healthy food, or bathe. She screamed at me the whole day no matter what I did and then she told me I was bad and she wanted you.”

“Love, she’s in the midst of her terrible twos. She loves you more than anythin’ on this earth. Y’her mummy and a damn good one at that. Why didn’t y’call me? I’d come home, work is never more important than our family.”

Y/N doesn’t bring up the fact she did try to call, “I need to be able to do this myself, Harry. M’a stay at home mum, taking care of Sash is literally my only job and I can’t even do that.”

Harry’s face hardens but he tries to not take it personally, knowing his wife is just upset with herself, “That’s not fair to me, dove. M’her daddy, she’s half mine too. She’s just as much of my responsibility as yours, no matter what my job is.”

“I don’t want to stress you out more than necessary,” Y/N mutters into his skin.

“Me coming home to my wife in tears and my baby in the pool at midnight is more stressful than you ringin’ me to come home,” Harry tells her, smearing a few kisses to the top of her hair.

“I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m just tired.”

Harry pulls her back so he can look her in the eyes, “Never apologize for somethin’ like that. Go get a bath and let me put the bub to sleep, okay? I love y’mumma.”

Harry calls his mum the next morning while Y/N is out getting a manicure with Glenne. He’d called her favorite salon earlier in the day, coercing them into opening a spot for her with a monetary bribe.

Y/N had hesitated at the door as Sasha threw a fit at her mother leaving the house. She clung onto her calf until Harry had to physically pull her off and hold her tightly in his arms.

Currently, Sasha was playing with a set of dolls on the floor of her bedroom as Harry sat next to her. She’d originally been happy with the presence of her father until he told her he needed to make a phone call.

Harry had to be stern with her when she went to grab at the phone pressed to his ear, gently gripping her wrist and frowning, “We don’t do that, s’not nice.”

Sasha had attempted to grab at it again and managed to tangle Harry’s long locks into his fist, tugging at them. Harry unraveled the small fingers before telling his daughter, “If you do that one more time, y’going on the step for two minutes.”

The threat had her pouting harshly but turning back to her toys to occupy herself, sighing when his mum finally answered the phone, “Hi darling.”

“Hi mum, you alright?” Harry asks, relaxing at the sound of his mother’s melodic voice.

“I’m perfect, you don’t sound okay, dear,” Anne replies with a concerned twinge.

Harry didn’t call much to complain, didn’t like worrying her and most of the time Y/N was able to provide the support he needed or Jeff.

“Y/N’s really overwhelmed,” Harry tells her before choking up a bit, “And I don’t know what to do mum, I feel like m’bein’ a bad husband. Came home to her crying last night and she feels like she’s a bad mum.”

When Sasha hears her father’s voice crack, she looks up at him curiously before recognizing that he’s upset. She crawls into his lap, fitting herself against his chest before playing with a doll there. Comforting him.

Harry wraps his free arm around her, pulling her as close as possible. His precious little baby. A little blessing as sweet as her mother.

“Oh honey, that happens. Mums, good mums especially are so critical when they don’t need to be. Baby’s are overwhelming, plus I know she’s been alone a lot with her. But you’re not a bad husband, dear.”

“It feels like it,” Harry sniffles, burying his face in his daughter’s lavender-scented curls from her bath earlier.

“If you were, you wouldn’t be calling,” Anne chuckles at her son, “Now how can we make this situation better?”

The phone call helped Harry not feel so hopeless in helping his wife. He’d come up with the plan to fly to England with Sasha so that Anne could see her but Y/N could have some alone time for a long weekend.

When Y/N enters the front door after her appointment, she’s met by a very excited little human who rushes to her mother and demands to be picked up. Of course, Y/N obliges, looking a bit more refreshed and awake as she tucks the baby against her hip.

Harry had ordered their favorite salads from a shop in the city and had it ready for her, “Oh, looks delicious. Thank you, H,” She smiles at him, leaning to give his stubbly cheek a kiss.

As they dig in, Y/N feeding bits of chicken and veggies to her daughter as they eat, Harry clears his throat, “I’m taking Sash to Holmes Chapel for the long weekend to see my mum.”

Y/N smiles, “That sounds great!”

Harry gives her a perplexed look, he’d thought she’d put up a fight. She despised being away from Sasha - couldn’t go a day without seeing her daughter.

“Really?” Her husband asks, putting down his fork.

“Mhm, I just have to pack a bag for Sash and I. When are we leaving?” Y/N replies eagerly, ready to go back home and get away from California for a bit.

Harry’s stomach clenches, “Erm, I meant just me and the baba? I thought you could stay here and relax for a weekend. Sleep, hang out, shop.”

Y/N’s face falls and is replaced with a devastated look, “You don’t think I’m being a good mum.”

Harry backpedals, realizing he shouldn’t have approached it in the lax way he did.

“No, no, of course not, baby. I think you’re such a good mum that you need a break. You never get breaks, m’the one who always does. S’not fair to you. I just need you to have some time to take care of yourself,” Harry explains, his heart shattering a bit at the tears brimming again.

“I don’t want a break, don’t leave me here,” Y/N begs, tucking a piece of tomato in her daughter’s expectant mouth before Sasha chews and smiles at her mother.

“Mummy, more please?” Sasha chirps, her mood a little bit brighter than it had been the last few days.

“Thank you for using your manners, here baby,” Her mother responds, popping another into her mouth after she sliced it in half.

“Did you book a commercial flight?” She asks her husband with an angry tone.

“No, private but we have to catch it at LAX,” Harry explains, the private airport they usually fly out of was filled to capacity at the moment.

“Either I’m coming or you’re going alone. You’re not taking Sasha without me,” Y/N replies firmly. She stands up and shuffles Sasha into his lap before leaving the room without another word.

Harry didn’t expect that. He should have thought it through more. If Y/N wanted to come, of course she could, but he’d never meant to offend her or act like he was taking Sasha away from her.

Harry had attempted to reason his way out of going to the studio with Jeff today. However, with the final cuts and adjustments were being made - he was quickly turned down and demanded in the studio.

When he’d trailed into the quiet house that night, relieved to find his baby in her crib instead of the pool, he went to his bedroom where the lights were still on.

The closet doors were open and Y/N was on the ground folding and sorting Sasha’s clothes before placing them in her suitcase. ***

Y/N’s suitcase already laying zipped and ready to go by the entrance of the closet. Her toiletry bag was placed neatly on top of it. Then his heart pings a bit when he sees that she’s already packed up his suitcase as well.

Harry pads over to his wife, plopping down behind her and tugging her back into him - long arms wrapping around her upper chest.

“Missed you, mumma.”

She hums, “I missed you too. Miss you always.”

“Y’the love of my life, y’know that?” Harry asks, kissing the back of her neck.

“I better be or you married the wrong person,” Y/N laughs softly, her tone still off but lighter than before.

“Married the right person, knocked up the right person.”

Y/N barks out a laugh, rolling her eyes, “How romantic.”

“Baby, y’know what I’m getting at. You’re the best mum and wife. I just wanted you to have a few days to yourself. To lower your stress level and let you do some self-care,” Harry murmurs, pushing the baby clothes out of her hands.

“But your mum can watch her for a bit while we’re there, right? I don’t want alone time, I need the exact opposite. I need company,” She tells him, twisting herself until she’s seated in his lap - straddling him.

“Mmm, can definitely have some alone time,” Harry agrees instantly, his mouth finding her throat - beginning to lay a path of wet, hot kisses down the column down to her collarbones.

“H, I have t’pack, we’re leaving tomorrow morning,” Y/N weakly argues but can’t help but bear down against her husband when she feels him harden in his loose pants quickly.

“S’just a quickie? Yeah, pet? Lemme fuck you,” Harry’s hands dragging the shirt she’s wearing up and over her head. Eyes lighting up boyishly when he realizes she didn’t have a bra on.

She can’t argue as he darts down to wrap his lips around her pert bud, sucking between long swipes of his tongue - just how she liked it. “Missed y’body so much,” Harry states against her heated skin.

“Just had me two days ago,” Y/N laughs but it cuts off into a moan when his hand slides into her pajama shorts and finds her clit over her thin underwear.

“Never enough,” Harry replies easily, “Remember the song I wrote f’you?”

Y/N snarkily asks, “Which one? Nearly all your songs are about me.”

And well...Harry can’t even argue how true her statement is. “The one titled ‘Never Enough’, pet? Remember?”

Before she can speak, he lowly croons out the chorus of the song he wrote for One Direction years ago, “Lips so good I forget my name. I swear I would give you everything. It’s never enough, never enough.”

Harry knows his sweet as syrup singing gets her immensely turned on and so he’s not surprised when she whimpers against his lips, “Fuck me, c’mon.”

He’s delighted at his wife’s pleas and quickly moves them, leaning forward with her until she’s on her back on the ground of their walk-in closet. He accidentally kicks over a pile of Sasha’s dresses but neither even notice.

There is no time wasted as Harry removed every single article from Y/N’s body quickly as well as his own. He’s leaning forward to suck a few more kisses to her chest as his fingers slip down to crook right up into her hot center.

“No teasing,” Y/N complains, wrapping hands around his biceps and bringing him on top of her more fully. She’s squeezing around his two fingers with need, it has him groaning when he brings them up and sucks them between his pouty lips.

Then she’s not waiting any longer, reaching down and grabbing a hold of his thick length. Harry lets out rumble from his chest at the contact before she’s guiding him into her without any further ado.

“Baby,” Harry chastises as soon as she starts goading him into thrusts with her feet against him bum, pushing him into her harder than he’d usually start, “Y’squeezin’ me s’tight, you missed me too?”

Y/N nods, whining every time he pushes against her spot and sends a zip of arousal through her body. His trimmed hair around his base brushing against her clit causing delicious friction for her.

“No, y’need to tell me,” Harry huffs, hand gripping her jaw harsher than he would if they were having slow, intimate sex. He knew she loved it by the way her eyes twinkle with stubbornness.

“No,” She replies coyly, heels of her feet pressing hard against him to the point it itches with a slight pain. Harry loved his wife so much it was looney.

“It’s fine, don’t need y’to come for me to get off, dove,” Harry replies simply, speeding up his thrusts with his hand holding her jaw for him to press bruising kisses against. His teeth are coming to pull her bottom lip in between.

Something switches in her demeanor though without warning, her voice softer and pliant, “Tell me you love me.”

It has Harry slowing down his hips until he’s rocking deeper into her, going down on his elbows so their noses are bumping. He releases the grip of her chin and instead moves to her bum to encourage her to meet him halfway.

“I love you, s’much it hurts most days,” Harry replies obediently, knowing what his wife needed at that moment. Reassurance. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on, then you made us a perfect little baby.”

She’s looking up at him with loving, grateful eyes, landing a gentle peck to his upper lip and letting her head fall back onto the floor. This is what she needed right now from her husband and he was so good at providing.

“Breaks my heart when y’don’t think your a good mum or wife. ‘Cause you’re everythin’ I ever wanted. Why’d you think I write every song about you, lovie? S’cause you’re my soulmate.”

“H,” She whimpers, emotion thick in her throat as she meets his eyes, “I love you so much. You’re the best husband and dad ever.”

“Baby,” Harry murmurs into her cheek, picking up speed as she starts to clench around him in a warning of her oncoming orgasm. He slips his hand down to press a few light rubs to her clit before she’s arching her back and moaning with pleasure.

“You look s’good, coming ‘round my cock,” Harry tells her, helping her ride through it before hitching her hips up even further and thrusting harshly until his hips stutter and he’s coming as well.

“Harry,” Y/N sighs, her breathing coming back to normal as she roams a hand down his shoulders and back - scratching lightly.

“Hmm, dove? Y’want my cock again? Need a few,” He replies into her neck, ever the teenage boy.

She giggles, “No, we have to catch a flight at eight in the morning and it’s currently four-thirty.”

Harry grunts before pulling out and sitting up, “Y’better have packed my favorite pajama pants or I’m goin’ to be cross with you.”

Y/N now regrets the second round of fun as soon as their alarm goes off. Her body sore from the position he’d twisted her into against the shower wall after they packed the rest of Sasha necessities.

They were nearly at the airport with Sasha nodding back off in the carseat. She was excited to see her Nana and Aunt Gemma once again.

Their daughter was in the cutest, comfiest jumpsuit with comic hearts all over it *** and adorable little sock sneakers*** that slide right on and off her feet.

Harry had chucked on black sunglasses, a black jumper with green lettering, black joggers, and blue checkered van with white socks. He was attempting to fly under the radar as much as possible because he knew paparazzi just sit outside the entrances to spot celebrities. ***

It was annoying but he could deal with it when he was mobbed at the airport when he was by himself. But when it was with his wife and baby - he couldn’t stomach it. It’s part of the reason they fly private from a private port.

When they pull up to the curb, a staff member is waiting for them and helps Harry as well as the driver put his luggage on a cart to be brought to the awaiting jet.

Y/N unbuckles the baby who is awake now but bleary-eyed as she’s sitting on the curve of her mother’s hip.

And well - that’s when the madness begins. A pap spots them within seconds of exiting the car and is pulling up his camera for the first shots, the other photographers sitting around follow suit.

As soon as one of them screams, “Harry Styles - look this way!” The jam packed area looks towards them, seeming fans of his start murmuring before following behind the paparazzi pulling their phones out.

Y/N is used to the crowds by now - but just like Harry, not with Sasha around. They tried to avoid situations like this as much as possible. The lights and loud noises were scary to the little girl.

“Mummy,” Sasha whines, picking her head up from her mother’s shoulder to stare wide-eyed at the gathering in front of them.

Harry started to feel anxiety because this was becoming a massive crowd - scratch that, it wasn’t a crowd it was a fucking mob of people. They were all too close, blinding the family with their flashes despite security attempting to push them back.

Fans were shoving and thrusting their phones in Harry’s face, shoving random things for him to sign in front of him. Paparazzi were screaming questions and taking thousands of pictures in a minute’s time.

Harry grabs onto Y/N’s hand tightly, their diaper bag on Harry’s shoulder, and begins to attempt to guide them through the swarm. It was like trying to move through cement, the crowd not budging despite security’s screams.

Sasha is full blown crying at this point into her mother’s neck. Y/N’s hand cupping the back of her head to keep her head down and out of the photographs - holding her as tightly as possible.

Y/N can hear Harry began to curse - signaling that he’s becoming stressed out because he would usually never be rude to the public despite their actions. But he couldn’t give a fuck when it came to his family.

“Move out of the way.”

“D’you not see I have a fuckin’ baby?”

“Get those fuckin’ cameras out of their faces.”

“Back the fuck away from my wife and baby.”

Then Y/N is being shoved by a teenage girl who trips when she thrusts her arm towards Harry. She tumbles into Y/N with her full weight and Y/N’s loses her footing, falling forward - letting go of Harry’s hand.

When she falls, she manages to catch herself with the arm that’s not holding her daughter. But she feels pain in her knees and Sasha emits a sharp wail that alerts Y/N her daughter is hurt.

“Sash, fuck,” Y/N gasps, her motherly instincts automatically kicking in and she’s cradling her daughter as tightly to her chest as she can, shielding her from the swarm who had quieted only a bit.

It must take Harry a second to realize that something had happened, he turns around - eyes frantic as he absolutely roars, “Back the fuck up! I’ll fuckin’ break each and everyone of your cameras! Fucking leeches.”

With that, he’s helping to pull you up and grasping at the two, “Are you okay? Wha’s hurt?”

Y/N just shakes her head, having a panic attack as she shuffles the crying baby into his arms. “Please, just...Sasha. I think she hurt her arm when I fell.”

“Daddy, ouch,” Sasha shrieks loudly into his sweatshirt as he hikes her up onto his chest, her little legs wrapped around his midsection.

“Ssh, y’okay,” Harry tries to reassure her, matching his wife’s panic.

The crowd seems to give way now, the parents rushing their daughter into the airport.

Employees guide them to the medical office on-site where it’s now silent and calm but the family feels anything but.

Sasha’s sobs have turned into moans and whimpers at this point - but come back with a vengeance when Harry has to set her on the exam table and wrestle her out of her clothes until she’s just sat in her diaper.

The nurse was so amazing and kind. She checked Sasha thoroughly for any signs of trauma or broken bones but luckily, it was just a nasty scrape on her forearm that was hurting her. It wasn’t anything serious.

The parents had such concern for their daughter that Y/N didn’t even realize she had bled through her white joggers at the knees ***. The nurse frowns, “Honey, you’re still bleeding.”

“I’m fine,” She insisted even though her knees were aching.

“I’d like to examine your legs, dear,” The nurse tells her sternly, signaling that Harry can dress Sasha again.

He’s digging into the diaper bag for a spare out that they were always ready with. She was calming even more when Harry dressed her in a comfy pink set of clothes with little deer on them. ***

“Love, please let her,” Harry asks softly, pulling Sasha back onto his chest. Her thumb tucked into her mouth and her father hands her a plushie that Y/N had shoved in the bag last minute.

Y/N obliges with the pressure, wiggling the loose fabric down her legs until she’s just in her underwear and shirt - sits up on the table with her knees off to the side for her to examine.

Harry grimaces when he sees the multiple cuts and scrapes tainting her skin. A few slow trickles of blood still oozing from the gashes. The skin is already slowly covering purple and blue with bruises.

The nurse cleans her up, Y/N wincing when the alcohol brushes the cuts but Sasha is smiling again like nothing ever happened and cooing at her mum. It makes them both feel a lot better.

When they’re finally on the private jet, up high into the clouds away from the crowds and paparazzi - it feels like relief. ***

They had tucked their daughter onto the couch with her favorite fuzzy blanket and she’s asleep nearly as soon as her head hits the pillow.

They trail back into the other part of the cabin so that they don’t disturb her, cuddling up on the couch together.

“M’so sorry, I’m such a bad fa-”

Y/N cuts him off before he begins, “If I’m not allowed to be a bad mum - you’re not allowed to be a bad father. It wasn’t y’fault that happened - it’s those careless, crazed people who have nothing better to do.”

Y/N was always the voice of reason in Harry’s head when he started to spiral.

Spiral because his fame was so overwhelming and got his family into difficult situations sometimes. She brought him back to reality.

“Hey, we’re both okay. Just a few scrapes. It was just a lesson, Harry. We just need to be safer and plan better, alright?” Y/N assures him softly, kissing under his chin before resting back - ready to sleep.

“Y’the best. Best mum, best wife,” Harry tells her, encompassing her in his loving hold.

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