#im just tired of it. im too exhausted to have a full sobbing shaking breakdown so ive gone to the other end of the spectrum and just feel

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

“hey so there’s been a bunch of exposures recently but we’re gonna have the volunteer party this week bc it’s outdoors so we’ll be fine. yeah it’s a bunch of people all talking maskless face to face in relatively close proximity but we’re outside so any transmission would of course be impossible” be so fucking for real

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

IM BACK! here’s a quick little piece I wrote yesterday! we love a good dad!harry hehe

wc: 2492

tw: mentions of anxiety, anxiety.

masterlist

Parenting was definitely hard.

Besides the happiness and joy a child can bring into people’s lives, it was definitely hard. It was like a job; like work. Being a mother was tough. Having been one for only three months, you’re still going through the withdrawals of the pregnancy. The body aches that went straight to your bones and muscles from carrying a whole baby inside of you for 9 months. Not to mention the lack of sleep.

The word ‘lack’ and ‘sleep’ in the same sentence made you want to cry.

It’s been obvious that you haven’t gotten any sleep, especially during the pregnancy. When your baby began peeking through your belly, you had to make some new adjustments to your sleeping positions. Your normal sleep position that lulled you to sleep was laying on your stomach, but for obvious reasons, you couldn’t do that anymore. Laying on your side was your second favorite position, so it had done well enough.

But there were some nights where you would lie awake until 3 a.m, hoping to get an ounce of sleep. You envied your husband and his ability to sleep so quickly, and whenever and wherever.

You just wanted sleep.

Now that your little love is three months old, you somewhat finally got time to catch up on your sleep. Of course, with the help of Harry.

He’s been by your side and supporting you ever since, and your heart was so full of love for him and your baby. He endure the whining that came from your mouth, the anger in your eyes when you were annoyed when something didn’t go your way, or annoying look on your face when he came too close when you wanted some space, but minutes later, you would waddle over to him and ask for some cuddles, saying your sorry.

Not only did you go through things physically and emotionally, Harry did as well. He put up with you, that’s for sure.

Now with Harry being the best husband and father there is, whenever your little love woke up in the middle of the night crying her eyes out, needing a nappy change or some food or cuddles, Harry would take care of it. You would slightly wake up, peeking your head up and ready to get out of bed, but Harry was already up and out of bed, telling you to sleep. And you sleepily smiled back at him and plopped your head back on the pillow.

But you had felt bad. You wanted Harry to earn some sleep as well, and you didn’t want him doing all the work. He would tell you that it is 100% okay and that you deserved some rest as well, knowing that you haven’t been able to sleep for practically a whole entire year.

So at dinner, you told Harry how you felt.

“Harry?”

“Yes?” He says in his baby voice as he was feeding the little love.

“I feel bad.” You say nervously. He looks up from his baby and puts his focus on you.

“What do you feel bad for, baby?” You sigh, putting down your fork.

“I feel bad because…” you trail off, nervous you’re going to sound stupid.

“Hey,” he reaches for your hand to hold it, stroking your soft hand with his thumb, “you can tell me anything, you know that right? Anything you say isn’t stupid.” He says as if he’s read your mind.

“It’s just that… I feel bad because you’re always waking up in the middle of the night to take care of our little love. And before you say it’s okay and that I deserve some rest, it’s not okay to me. You deserve some sleep too, and I can’t have you doing all the work.” You look at him with glossy eyes, not knowing why you’re about to cry. Damn hormones making you feel all crazy.

Harry looks at you intently and he sees your watery eyes. He knows well that when you express yourself, you truly mean every word of it. So, he knows not to argue and instead nods his head in agreement, although he disagrees with you. “Okay, what do you want to do? Limit my wakings?” He pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses it gently. Your little love is looking up at her father, probably wondering why he stopped feeding.

“How about for tonight, I get this little munchkin when she cries? I’ll put the baby monitor on my side and I’ll put it softly so only I’ll be able to hear it.”

“Alright, if that’s what you want then okay.” You smile at him appreciatively.

“Thank you, Harry.” This time, you’re being his hand to your lips, kissing his skin softly.

“Of course, my love.” He squeezes your hand and continues feeding the little one.

You and Harry settled in bed, cuddling one another and kissing each other’s skin innocently saying goodnight to each other in the pecks of the lips; something that helped drift you two to sleep sometimes. And luckily, it was one of those nights.

During the night, you and Harry had found a way to untangle from each other, leading to sleeping on opposite sides while not holding one another in each other’s arms.

Harry was sleeping on his side and you on yours, and it was the soft crackle from the baby monitor that started, but it didn’t seem enough to wake you up. You had placed the baby monitor in the space between the bedside table and the bed, resting the monitor on the frame. You had turned it down to a low medium volume so only you would be able to hear it, not Harry. But it still wasn’t enough to wake you up.

The only time you opened your eyes was when soft light was creeping through the blinds and you looked at the time that read 6:05 a.m, and you lazily smiled, thinking that your little love had slept through the whole night.

You turn to face Harry, only to find the bed empty. Sheets wrinkled and the blanket pushed off. You place your hand on his pillow and his side of the bed, not wanting to get up just yet, finding it cold, meaning that he’d been up for a while. With your brows furrowed, you get out of bed and put on your silk robe, walking towards your baby’s room to find Harry in the comfortable loveseat with the little munchkin in his arms, both of them asleep. With confused thoughts, you gently tap him, causing him to easily stir and wake up.

“Morning.” He says groggily. You lean down to place a kiss on his head and one to your daughter.

“Hey. How long have you been up?” You ask curiously.

“Since 3.” Your eyes widen and step back a little to look at him to see if he’s joking with you.

“W-What?”

“Yeah.” His face remains neutral and you don’t know if he’s not mind or he’s really good at hiding it.

“Baby…”

“It’s fine.” He brushes off.

“No, it’s not! The baby monitor was next to me and I still didn’t hear it!” Tears sting your eyes, not believing you did this. “I mean, did you hear the monitor?”

“No, but this one was crying for, what I’m guessing, a while so she progressively got louder and louder, and she’s coming down with something.” He says honestly, and it’s not to make you feel bad, it’s the truth. But you can’t help but feel horrible.

The little love was asleep and comfortable in his arms, and you walked back to yours and Harry’s room before sobbing. Tears littered your face and you couldn’t seem to stop. You climb in bed and pull the covers all the way up to your chin, feeling like it’s the only thing that can comfort you.

So many thoughts swirl your mind as the tears keep coming and the muffled sobs don’t stop. Harry walks back into the room and finds you facing away from him on your side. He can see your body shaking and his eyes soften. He was angry at you minutes prior, he was just so exhausted that he didn’t mean to be so short with you.

Harry climbs in bed and scoots to your side, pressing his chest against your back, and wraps his arms around your shaking frame. He kisses your shoulder and the back of your neck, hoping it’ll bring you comfort and your cries die down. Harry doesn’t say anything and holds you for a few minutes.

Once your sobbing was coming to an end and your breathing was controlled, he’d thought you fell asleep, and that hurt him knowing that you cried yourself to sleep, but you turned your body in his hold to face him.

Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks damped, and there was probably snot coming out of your nose. You knew all of this and thought it was the most unattractive thing Harry had laid his eyes on, but he can’t help to love you even more.

You both look at each other for a minute, studying each other’s expression, and not knowing who’s going to say the first word.

“I’m sorry.” You start and put your forehead on his chest, not wanting to look him in the eye as you felt so embarrassed.

“Why’re you sorry?” Harry genuinely asks.

“I’m such a horrible mother.” You say as you breathe deeply, not wanting to have another breakdown because honestly, your eyes are tired from it.

“Nonsense-” Harry is quick to say, but you interrupt him.

“I’ve failed our little love and I failed you. I wanted you to get more sleep and not do all the work, and the one time you agree, I don’t wake up! And she was in his crib for god knows how long, crying her little heart out because she needed me, anyone to comfort her and cuddle her, and I couldn’t do that!” Another set of tears had slid down your face and on Harry’s chest. He holds you tighter, rubbing his hand down your back. He wanted to say something so bad, but he knew that you needed to vent and let it all out, so once you’re done, he’ll jump in and disagree with you.

“I’m so fucking selfish that I didn’t even think about how deep of a sleeper I am. I’ve always been ever since I was younger too; I slept through an earthquake, thunderstorms, and I didn’t wake up. If I had just thought to put the volume louder in case I didn’t hear her wailing then you could’ve gotten to her and taken care of her sooner, and then she wouldn’t feel like I’ve abandoned her. You’ve been taking care of her so much that you had to feed her formula instead of me breastfeeding her because I can’t get up for shit because I’m too tired, and now she’s getting sick because of me!” It was like your last statement was a realization on how and why she’s getting sick, you’re shaking in his arms, feeling like a horrible person. Your hands claw at his naked skin, needing something to grasp on.

Now she’s just driving herself insane and overthinking, he thinks. But he understands that your anxiety can drive you up the wall sometimes (or most times), and he through the years, he learned to hold you through it all and not to talk until you’re done because if he talks, then it’ll only get worse. It had happened twice in the early stage of your relationship when he didn’t know what to do.

“I’m such a fail for a mother that I couldn’t do a simple task like wake up, but instead I was just thinking about myself and how I don’t want our baby to despise me right now or ever. Like who does that!” You bury your face in his neck, latching onto his shoulders to bring him closer than possible.

Harry thinks you’re done speaking when you’ve just laid in his arms in silence, trying to control your breathing again as he whispers a string of ‘shh’ in your ear.

For what seems like forever, you pull back, and Harry looks down at you. You don’t say a word because you’ve ran out of things to say and you really don’t want to talk anymore.

“Lovie, listen to me, okay? I want you to hear every word I have to say.” You only nod and usually Harry would want a vocal validation like he does in bed, but he knows you’re all of words. “Nothing about you is a failure. You’ve had a tough year carrying our baby, not getting any sleep, and dealing with the hormones. I don’t blame you for anything at all if you want to get some sleep. I know you’re a deep sleeper, we’ve been together for years and you don’t think I know?” He says the last part teasingly. “I should’ve had a monitor on my side too, so I’m to blame.”

You shake your head, disagreeing with his last statement. Harry continues on, “that little baby is okay, and she loves you so much. I love you so much. Lovie, we’ve only been parents for 3 months and we’ve got so much to learn. We’ve got our whole lives to learn how to take care of her. But that does not mean that one simple mistake means you’re a failure at parenthood. It doesn’t work like that. You’re the best mother I could ever ask for to carry my children, you carried her and protected her for 9 months; fuck, you’re already the strongest person ever. Even if you weren’t pregnant, I’d say you’re the strongest. Understand me?” You nod your head and pull him in for a tight hug.

“Don’t doubt yourself or sell yourself short, okay?” He says with his lips to your head as if he wants to engrave those words into your brain.

“O-Okay.” You say softly against his chest as if you’re reassuring his heart that you’re okay.

“I love you, you know that right?”

“I do. I love you more, you know that right?”

“I do.”

He understands why so you’re upset, why you’re crying so much. Why you probably think you’re the most unattractive thing at the moment with your face being a mess with snot dripping down. But he still thinks you’re the most beautiful and strongest woman there is, inside and out. And he couldn’t help but love you even more.

The two of you lay there, wrapped around each other’s warmth, bringing you both the comfort and reassurance you two need. You both drift off to sleep, taking a quick nap before one of you hears the crackle from the monitor to take care of your little love.

talk to me!

[turtle-steverogers]

Departed Chap 1

This was originally on my ao3 but i’m impulse posting it here YEET (ima put all the chapters under #departed)

Ship: Slow burn Sprace

Warnings: Domestic Abuse mentions

It had been a long fucking day. Well, a long fucking week really between midterms and work at the Tae Kwon Do studio he instructed at, but today especially had dragged on and Spot Conlon was ready to take a hot shower and sleep. But of course, nothing was ever that simple. His evening plans were quickly squashed by the sound of weak knocking on his apartment door. Spot groaned and pulled himself up from his comfortable position on the couch, reluctantly unbolting the door and opening it. He was about to reprimand the person knocking for bothering him at eleven o’clock on a Friday night, but hastily shut his mouth when he took in the person in front of him.

“Race? What the fuck.” Spot said, his voice coming out a little louder than he meant it to. Antonio “Racetrack” Higgins, his best friend of five years, was standing outside his apartment door, nursing a bloody nose and several hand-shaped bruises on his exposed arms.

Race locked eyes with Spot, his gaze tired and annoyed, “Canya not raise your voice? My head hurts.” He mumbled, then shouldered past Spot and proceeded to kick off his shoes.

“Sorry,” Spot murmured, still trying to grasp the situation as Race gingerly laid himself on the couch, “But uh, you gonna tell me what happened?”

“No, I’ma sleep.” Race grunted.

“Racer, ya can’t just come to my apartment covered in bruises and blood and expect me not ta-”

“Sean, I know. I promise I’ll explain tomorrow, but I’m so exhausted and I really don’t wanna be awake right now.” Race said, his eyes already closed.

“Okay, but you are talkin’ tomorrow,” Spot said, finally moving away from the door, “Also, no sleep yet. Your face is bloody as fuck and you are not sleepin’ on my pillows like that.”

Race groaned and didn’t move, “Spottie…”

“Nope, c’mon, at least clean up,” Spot persisted, “You don’t even gotta get all the way up, just clean off ya face.”

There was a small pause and for a moment Spot wondered if Race had stubbornly started to fake sleep, then he heard a small, “Fine.”

Spot wet a paper towel in the kitchen sink, then quickly retrieved an extra pair of sweatpants from his bedroom.

“Here,” he said, handing both things to Race, who took them lying down, “Clean off and get changed, I’ll grab ya some blankets.”

Race didn’t reply and Spot watched for a moment as he pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing as he did so. He really did look like shit. Blood was covering the front of his shirt and there was a bruise on his jaw that Spot hadn’t seen before.

“Spot, I uhh, I appreciate you checkin’ me out, but could I have some privacy?” Race said, a tired smirk coloring his features.

“Oh,” Spot said, snapping out of his reverie, “Yeah, yeah sorry.”

He left to dig some sheets out of the hallway closet and was just gathering a pillow when he heard a small whimper then, “S-spottie? Couldya help?”

Spot turned to see Race with his jeans halfway off. The sweatpants were crumpled at his side.

“My chest is kinda, uh, bruised and my abilities ta move are compromised…” He continued, not making eye contact with Spot.

“Oh! Yeah, ‘course.” Spot said, making his way over to Race and sitting beside him. He carefully lifted Race’s legs into his lap and pulled off his pants off completely, then began to pull the sweatpants onto his legs.

When they reached his mid thighs, Race cleared his throat, “I can get ‘em from here.” He said, blushing slightly.

“Ya sure?” Spot asked as he watched Race struggle to pull them up farther, “Dude, lemme see your chest.”

Race paused his action, then swiftly pulled the sweatpants up the rest of the way, taking deep breaths after, presumably to stop the pain in his torso.

He paused for a moment, toying with the hem of his shirt before shaking his head, “My chest is fine, well, not entirely fine, but no ribs are broken. I checked. Can I please jus’ sleep?”

Spot sighed, “Fine, I’ll stop houndin’ ya.” He studied Race’s face for a moment longer before standing and grabbing a discarded sweatshirt from the chair nearest to him and handing it to Race.

“Here, so you don’t gotta wear a bloody ass shirt all night.” Race took it, but made no move to put it on, “If ya need anythin’ in the night, just shout. Night Race.”

“Night, Spot.”

XXX

The next morning, Spot woke up to the sound of the coffee maker turning on. He climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats. When he entered the kitchen, Race pulled another mug out of the cabinet.

“You’re movin’ around better,” Spot observed, noticing that Race had changed into the sweatshirt he had given him the night before.

Race only grunted in reply, busying himself in pouring coffee for the two of them. Once he was finished, he handed Spot a mug, then sat himself at the kitchen counter. Spot sat down across from him and worked on adding sugar to his cup.

Spot startled slightly when Race spoke quietly, “It’s never gotten this bad before. I mean, she’s always been harsh in her words and maybe a slap here or there, but she was drunk and I was annoyin’ her I guess and next thing I knew she was comin’ at me with a bottle and...” He trailed off, closing his eyes to compose himself.

Spot looked at him in shock. Race could only be talking about one person- his girlfriend, Melissa. They had been dating for a little over a year and at first, their relationship had seemed perfect. But then, Race would stop coming to group hang-outs, and when he did come, he seemed nervous. He would leave early and never seemed to participate as much as he used to. Spot had suspected this was Melissa’s doing for a while, but he never could have imagined it going this far and never brought it up. Though, given Race’s current condition, he wish he had.

Race continued, “I dunno what to do, Sean. I haven’t been able ta breathe in that relationship for a while, but now I’m suffocatin’.”

“Break up with her, you don’t gotta stay in that situation.” Spot said, softly.

Race looked up for the first time, fear evident in his eyes, “No! No I can’t-that would jus’ be..I mean she’d find me and- no I can’t.”

Spot’s eyes flicked down to Race’s hands, noticing for the first time that they were shaking. Race must have seen Spot looking, because he cleared his throat and gripped his mug tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Alright,” Spot sighed, “We can talk more about this later, alright?”

Race didn’t say anything, but he didn’t object, so Spot took that as a yes.

“Are ya hungry? I could make pancakes.” Spot suggested.

Race shrugged, then nodded, “With blueberries?”

Spot scoffed, “‘Course. It’s not like ya’d eat ‘em without.”

Race smiled slightly into his mug, “I hate how well ya know me.”

Spot chuckled lightly and said, “That’s jus’ the price of friendship, buddy,” before turning to his cabinets to get out the ingredients for the pancakes. It was mostly quiet for a few minutes while Spot cooked, save for the sound of their coffee mugs clinking and Race humming to himself. However, the comfortable quiet was interrupted by Race’s phone ringing.

“Shit,” Race muttered to himself.

“S’it Melissa?” Spot questioned, turning around to place the plate full of pancakes on the countertop.

“Yep,” Race said, distractedly. He sighed, then picked up the phone, standing up from his seat at the counter as he did so.

“Yeah?” Race said, meekly into the phone. Immediately, shouting could be heard from the other end of the phone and Spot watched in concern as Race flinched and drew his shoulders up to his ears, “I’m sorry- I said I’m sorry. No- I-I’m out right now. O-okay. Y-yeah. I’ll come back now. I- Melissa, no. I said I’d come-please.”

Spot could feel his heart break as he watched his best friend transform into a stuttering mess. After a few more seconds of Melissa’s audible shouting and Race trying to get a few words in, the call was ended. Race slumped back down in his chair and put his face in his hands.

“I’m not letting you go back there, Race.” Spot said, gently, yet firmly.

“I-” Race cut himself off as his voice cracked, and Spot was surprised to see his shoulders start shaking with what he presumed were tears. He’d only ever seen him cry once before, and they had both been drunk. He jumped into action when Race’s cries turned to sobs, quickly making his way around the counter so he could carefully rub a hand up and down his arm to ground him.

“I-I don’t know w-what ta do, Spottie,” Race choked out.

“We’ll figure this out, Racer, I promise.” Spot said, soothingly, although his heart was in his throat. It scared him to see his best friend breakdown like this.

“I’m scared,” Race whimpered.

“I know, I’m right here.”

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