#are the sweater stains a bit too much. i'm sorry (i am not) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kissbentennyson · 3 years ago

Note

I have no idea if you'd do this but I need a nega ben x reader. He's my favorite out of the alternates. A softer one shot would be nice but whatever you're feeling is good too! I'll take any content I can get!

*Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica begins to play* Yeah me too.

Nega Ben x Reader | reader uses they/them pronouns, but dresses femininely.

Spill

He’d been waiting all day, and I mean, all day. Classes always seemed to drag on and on longer when he wanted something, and sure, he could have skipped. But that would have taken too much effort not to get caught. He isn’t afraid of the cops or the school administration… But dealing with his parents? Yeah, no. Not worth it. He’d b-lined it across Bellwood, all the way to the “café” he frequented. Truthfully, it wasn't much of a café seeing as how they specialize in more smoothie like drinks, but whatever. It has been rather crowded, too crowded, and everyone just wanted to get in then out.

He should have expected to bump or get bumped into someone, but it didn’t dawn on him until his espresso smoothie was all over your bright pink, fuzzy sweater. Both of you stood there with slack jaws and wide eyes as the brown liquid dripped from your chest and down onto an equally as pink lolita-esque skirt. It looked expensive, not in a daddy's money way, in a “I saved up to buy this” way. And so, he was prepared for hell.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!”

When it left you, Ben was confused. “Gosh, I should have been looking where I was going… But I was too distracted. Ugh, I-” You were flustered , more than actually, embarrassed is the correct word. “Um… Give me a second and I'll buy you a new one…”

“What?”

Watching as you tried to pat away the coffee with one of the recycled paper napkins the café gives out, a million thoughts passed through him. Of course he took the offer, he wanted that coffee. The line was a lot shorter this time around, and got by a lot quicker too. You ordered for him as he zoned out suddenly looking over your shoulder at him. “What?” He asks, watching you get even more flustered. “I just asked if you wanted anything else. Do you?” “Oh, uh, yeah.” he clears his throat, raising his voice. “The kale chips.”

You both walked out together, your head was down and you watched your shoes as you walked. “Again, I’m really sorry.” He glances at you with a slight side eye as he sips on the coffee, this was the gazillionth time you’ve apologized in just the last few minutes. “It’s… whatever.” He lets out a quick and breathy chuckle. “You apologize to me, but I ruined your sweater.” All of the sudden, your embarrassment seemed non-existent. A light and bubbly laugh leaving you. “Ruined? Oh, trust me, I’ll be just fine. I've dealt with worse.”

“Anyways! I have to get home and change, It was nice meeting you!”

The lunch room was beyond packed, packed like the reunion tour of a popular punk band from the 2000's. The doors and tables overflow with hungry and impatient mouths. You had managed to get in before the rush and snag a serving of less than okay school food, but by the time you got out of line, they had all flooded in. People had no concern for others around them, pushing and shoving like toddlers over toys, and you were getting the brunt of it. Not actually, but it sure felt like it.

You were halfway across the room and were looking around the tables for a free space- but it was too late for that already. A body slams into yours hard, you hit the ground as your food falls and splatters all of the chest of the sweater you had just gotten the coffee stain out of. Feet come down around you as you struggle to get up, the other person now looming over you. “Could you have watched where you were going!?” This whole situation was not intentional, but they had no right to get angry at you for that.

You felt the tips of your ears heat, unable to answer. Her eyes bore down on you as she sways with every passing body bumping into her. Suddenly, you feel a hand grab the back of your sweater and pull you from the ground, as if they were scruffing a cat. “Or, maybe you could stop play fighting with your friends in the cafeteria, like a bitch.” Her jaw drops and her freckled face goes red with embarrassment, obviously on the fact that she can't pawn her mistake off on someone else this time. The voice was rather monotone- in a way- compared to the words spoken. And rather familiar.

When you look up it’s the guy from the café, his neutral expression was a thin vale to hide his irritation- at least to you. His hand still had a grip on the back of your shirt, it was a firm hold, and it made you just a tad bit nervous. You swallow as the person swallows her embarrassment, rolling her eyes desperately to try and hide. “Whatever freak, sorry…” she turns and disappears into the crowd. You watch her do so, completely shocked at the situation at hand. Your lips part to say something, but his grip on your sweater releases, being replaced by an arm around your shoulder. Suddenly, you’re being dragged through the crowd and towards the cafeteria door.

He walks you out into the hallway, which is mostly empty at this point. “Thank you.” you choke out through the lump in your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking with you- and you aren’t in any position to object.

Eventually you reach the stairs. Under it is a mostly empty black backpack, and there’s a light reflection of gold from inside. The weight of his arm leaves your shoulders and he walks ahead, sliding under the stairs and sitting with his back to an old AC unit. You hesitate for a moment, you’ve only met this guy one other time… maybe you should just wait…… nah.

Sliding under the stairs right after him, you sit straight across from the guy. He’s already looked away. “I think we have third period together. Your name is Ben, right?” His phone is already out, and he’s scrolling through it. “Well I'm…” you give him your name, and all he does is look up at you with a nod before going back to his phone. The volume is low, but there are noises coming from it, ones you recognize. “Is that the Sumo Slammers mobile game?” There was no judgement in your voice at all, and suddenly the losing end sound plays.

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah?” “My little brother is obsessed with that series. He says that the mobile game isn’t that good, but he still played it to the end.” He let out a little huff like laugh through his nose, pressing the power button and finally giving you his full attention. “Yeah, maybe the old one wasn't that good, but this one is a new release- Doesn’t even have dubbed lines yet.” He clears his throat, slouching a bit as his hands slide into his pockets. “Actually, it’s not fully released in the states yet. I got pre access to the game.” He watches you smile, and suddenly there's a slight tense feeling in his chest.

“That’s really cool, are you a beta tester or something?” He shrugs. “No, and it’s whatever.” He glances away, gaze holding on the wall. “Well I think it’s really cool, especially since it's a series you like.” “How do you know that?” His gaze snaps back to you, suddenly defensive. “Your backpack is open and the sun is reflecting off of the cold backing of the trading cards.” You lazily point to the stairs above you, and there is the reflected image of the symbol on the cards. “Those are the collectors additions, from japan. I know because I’ve been looking for that exact deck for my brother.”

You watch as his cheeks dust a light pink color, lightly nudging his bag so it falls over. He starts avoiding eye contact, leaning back fully against the old AC unit. “Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be cleaning up your sweater?” You lean back against the stairs. “Yeah, maybe. But I think you’re kinda cool, and I’d like to stay.”

It was rather silent the rest of lunch, when you tried to hold a conversation- he would end it with short answers that gave you nothing to build off of. The bell rings above you like the screech of an angered bird. You both get up, him raising from the floor before you. You brush the dirt off of the back of your thighs, the light sound of unzipping catching your attention. You watch as the zipper of his hoodie comes down as he pulls it. Yanking it off of his shoulders, revealing the greenish-grey long sleeve he had under it.

“Here. Even if you get the food off, it’ll still stain.” He hands you the coat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, the already open flap lolling open even more. “Oh, thank you, I don’t know what to sa-” “Don’t. Don’t say anything. This never happened.” He walks past you and into the crowd of students, with his head down.

You watch as he does so, eventually looking back down at the hoodie in hand. You feel your face just slightly twinge with heat. “Yeah… Alright.” You say under your breath as you rush off to the nearest bathroom to scrub the food scum from your sweater.

It was a game day.

Not that he kept track of that, he had never been into football. Once upon a time he played soccer, but after he got the Negatrix any hopes of that former love returning was gone. Ben knew it was game day because his cousin was in her cheerleading outfit- and it was no were near time for cheer competitions. Her makeup was done and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up, and she sat in the front seat of her boyfriend's car chatting to said boyfriend about the routines she had to do.

Ben sat in the back, as he always did, waiting for the drive to be over. It came soon enough as the car pulled into the drop off area in front of the school, slowing to a stop. Neither Tennyson waited for it to fully stop before opening their doors. He got out, closing it with a slam and without a thank you. Gwen still leaning in and talking. The chatter of the hoard of tired teenagers flocking into the building almost drowned out the shouting of his name.

Almost.

He groans, looking over his shoulder, spotting the mass of pastels jogging towards him with something in their arms. “I’m so glad I got here on time! They were packed this morning- and I thought I'd be late- but I made it.” In your arms is his hoodie and an espresso smoothie. You hand him your gifts with a large smile. “I um, washed the jacket for you. Thanks again.” The bell rings and you give a quick wave before pushing into the school building yourself.

His jaw hangs slack, looking down at his freshly cleaned jacket- lint free, folded, and still warm- and the smoothie. When he moves there's a light cracking from inside the jacket, like the sound of a chip bag. He pulls back one of the folds and there is a bag of kale chips, stuck to it is a yellow sticky note written on with a pink gel pen. A phone number with “See you at lunch.”

“Who was that?” Ben looks over at his cousin, an impressed smirk on her lips.

“You’re getting mileage out of this, huh?” “Soooo much.”

#proship dni #alternate bens x reader #ben 10 x reader #ben tennyson x reader #nega ben x reader

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gucciwins · 3 years ago

Text

Are you Angel?

Harry gets hurt while on the job and Y/N gets a phone call she was not prepared for.

Word count: 7413

A/N: hello friends, it's been a while :) this is a continuation to my story Trouble Follows. You don't have to read but it will give you an insight of how Y/N and Harry met. I am thrilled to share more of firefighter harry with you. I adore him and I hope you do as well.

please do let me know what you thought of the story and please reblog! <333

Warnings: angst, breakups, hospitals

A firefighter will always run into a burning building with not a hint of hesitation. All their focus is on saving the people stuck inside.

Running towards trouble is second nature to them.

She knew that.

She also knew what it meant to date a firefighter.

The unreliable hours, the non-frequent communication, the many failed dinner dates. The twenty-four hours shifts when he would then arrive home to just sleep.

Harry had begun to give her a constant comfort that he would eventually come home and climb into bed behind her. He would then gently nuzzle his face in her neck, taking in her sweet honey scent. In contrast, she took in the woody ashy smell that seems to be permanently stained on him.

So trust her when she said she knew what she was in for when Harry asked her to be his girlfriend.

Four months in, she knew she would be here for a long time, maybe forever, if life would allow it.

She was sure; she knew what to expect.

But she didn't, not until she got the call.

The call that would shatter her heart.

The call that would lead her to be sitting in this uncomfortable, ugly brown hospital chair, holding tightly onto his ashy hand. As she prayed on and on to a God, she no longer held close but wished for Harry they were real and would bring Harry back to her.

Y/N prayed for Harry to finally open his eyes and give her a reassuring smile that he would be okay.

That they would be okay.

Until then, she'll wait.

Harry being Lieutenant allowed him to have a consistent schedule. That did not mean there weren't days where he had to pull a double shift or stay back to finish paperwork; he let it pile up.

The one day that was Y/N's was Sunday.

She got him an entire day to lay in bed together and eat all the baked goods she baked for him to try. It was becoming their day. Everyone at the station knew Harry could not be disturbed on Sundays unless it was the end of the world, and even then, they'd have to pry him away from Y/N.

He feels safe in her arms. Harry had never felt that before. Sure, he was surrounded by his firehouse family, but he had never felt so loved in two arms as if she could take all his problems and stresses away. Still, she did exactly that when she would flash him her gorgeous smile and hold her arms open for him to fall into at the end of every day.

Harry knows he's never felt this way, and he won't ever take it for granted.

This Sunday will be different, and she feels it as soon as she wakes up because, in her queen-sized bed, she's alone. No arms wrapped around her waist; no head tucked into her necks as he places soft open kisses to wake her from her sleep gently.

Already, she knows this is going to be a bad day. She feels it in her bones. Having been around trouble for so long, she knows the difference between good and bad. The feelings she has made her want to find Harry and pull him back into bed where she can keep him safe.

Y/N gets out of bed, throwing the warm sheets off her body going to the bathroom to do her morning skin routine, wanting to feel refreshed for when Harry breaks the news; he's going to leave her alone on their day. She knows him well enough; he's cooking her breakfast to make up for leaving her so early in the morning.

She walks out of her bathroom, going straight to her closet and taking out the first sweater she saw. It's a baby blue color and stitched on the left side on top of her heart is: "love me please?" It's Harry's favorite sweater of hers because it's an oversized sweater that fits him well. The only reason she has it back is that he wanted her to wash it and wear it until it got her smell again. Y/N kissed him silly when he told her that, plus she loves that it smells like him now.

Y/N takes one look at her unmade bed and walks away, knowing she's going to crawl back in after Harry leaves her. She walks out and, from the hallway, can hear Harry humming away. If she's honest, she doesn't recognize the song. As she has come to learn, Harry has an interesting taste in music; he has basically heard every song ever to exist. It's a reason they are so good at Four Clovers Thursday Trivia night. She dominates pop culture and films, and Harry takes on music. She's also better at history than him. Their friends love trivia night because their winning always gets them free drinks. It's something she looks forward to each week.

"Morning, H," Y/N says as she approaches him from behind and wraps her arms around his waist. Harry smiles, instantly feeling warm with her arms around him.

"Morning, firebug. Sleep well?"

She mumbles a no, causing Harry to laugh, and she feels it vibrate through her.

"Awe, upset I wasn't wrapped around you." He teases. "I'm making up to you by making breakfast."

She pulls away, spotting blackberries on the counter. "Sure, Jan."

Harry can hear the change in her tone and knows she's still goofing off with him but knows she's upset.

"Angel, come sit. Coffee is ready."

She shakes her head but makes her way over to the chair he pulled out for her. "No coffee. I'll be going back to bed soon." Y/N waits to see if he'll correct her, but he doesn't.

"I'm sorry." He begins.

"No apologies."

"Please let me. I'm leaving you on our day." He pouts.

"As much as I don't want you to go, I'm sure they need you more than I do."

Harry frowns, "I hope you'll never stop needing me." He whispers against her lips before closing the gap. Y/N hums against his soft lips allowing herself to get lost in the moment; she loves his kisses, soft and gentle just as he is despite what his sharp eyes might have one believe.

Harry pulls away after pressing one final kiss on her pouted lips. "I'm sorry I have to go to work, but I know for certain that I can meet you for a late lunch."

"Lunch?" She repeats, arms wrapped around his waist, hoping he was serious with his offer.

He hums. "Yes, 2:30, that bistro with that avocado dressing you like for your sandwich."

"It's a date." She grins, laying her head on his chest letting him hold her tight. He unwraps his arms, letting her go.

"I've got to get going, firebug, but I'll see you later."

"Stay safe, Styles." She tells him as she does every time he leaves.

"Try my best, angel."

With that, he slips his beat-up white Vans with lilac laces and walks out the door; it shuts it behind him. Just as Y/N steps towards it to lock up, it opens back up, startling her. Harry steps back in, and before she can question him, he places both faces on the side of her face and kisses her breathless. Y/N is quick to react, allowing their lips to move in perfect harmony, not as smooth but perfect, nonetheless.

"I--" Harry begins before he clears his throat. "I'll miss you, angel."

Y/N feels the heat rush to her cheeks because, for a moment, she thought he'd say another three words. "And I'll miss you, H. Now get out of here; I don't need you showing up late to our lunch date."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display, hugging her before walking out a skip in his step. She peaks her head out, making sure he gets in the car safely before he drives off. He sits there for a moment, and she knows he is letting his Bluetooth connect as he waits for his drive-to-work playlist titled "it's time" to start playing. He takes a look at his mirrors before backing out and driving. That's when Y/N closes and locks the door.

Time to go back to bed for a few more hours; what else is there to do on a Sunday when she's left alone.

Harry genuinely did not want to go to work today, but it's not like he could say no to his Chief. His Chief was never one to call in favor unless it was an emergency. He didn't ask, knowing he'd get the full story Monday, but for now, he gets on his pants, t-shirt, and boots and hopes there are no fires today.

The only thing is that Harry isn't used to working with the B-shift, sure he knows everyone's name and a little of their lives, but they aren't his usual team. He shakes that off because he knows he would do anything to help a team member and knows they would do the same in return.

Harry is lost in thought, wondering what Y/N was going to do today. He knows she planned to take him to a butterfly pavilion today even told him the outfit she had planned out for it. A pair of jeans that had flowers embroidered all over something she added, saying she thought they looked a bit plain, pairing it with a pastel pink top. Harry was surprised with her style after meeting her various times in different outfits. He was surprised at how soft she dressed in pastels. She may have a bold personality, but her fashion was delicate and warm. It was a nice balance.

He nearly runs into Carols as he made his way to his office, too busy thinking of the girl he left at home. "Sorry, bud."

"No problem, Harry. Surprised to see you here," Carols tells him, everyone knowing Sunday was Harry's day off.

"Chief had something come up and asked me to come in. I should be out of here by eight tonight if we're lucky."

Carlos smiles, "with you around, we usually are."

Harry chuckles, telling him he'll be in his office if he needs anything. He looks around his desk and sighs at how much has piled up already.

Might as well get ahead.

It's a few hours when Harry realizes the house is quiet. He peaks around the window and figures they are all in the common room. It's only one, and thankfully there have been no calls, and if it continues, then he will make it to lunch with his angel.

He shoots her a text.

Angel

13:24 PM

I miss you. Counting down the minutes until I get to see you xxx

Harry clicks send and smiles down at his phone. 2:30 couldn't come fast enough.

As he gets up to stretch and go for a snack in the kitchen, he takes a deep breath because as confident as he may seem, he isn't around the second shift. They don't know him so well, and Harry ultimately is shy. He may be able to hide it, but he has small quicks that others pick up on. Something he knows Y/N spotted quickly, like when he toes his foot into the ground or when he begins to chip at his nails, and Y/N's favorite is when he moves his hands behind his back and sways side to side. She finds it endearing, but others might not think it's leadership material.

He walks into the lounge to cross to the kitchen when a few heads turn to him, but before they can say a word, the alarm rings, and Harry is literally saved by the bell.

Not a second to waste, everyone heads over to the rig and quickly suits up. Harry is Lieutenant meaning he's in charge of the scene today, seeing as their captain and Chief aren't here today. Harry respects all the firefighters and knows this will go well if everyone carries out their job.

It's a factory fire, and as soon as they arrive, Harry can see it's burning fast. He's not sure how many people are there, but he calls in for reinforcements knowing they will need all the manpower they can get.

"This is House 102; please send more units available. The factory fire is burning at a faster rate than we can control. My team is going in now. There are five people unaccounted for; the left side of the building is clear." Harry speaks into his two-way radio.

"Carlos," the young firefighter jogs over, eyes on Harry, no longer staring at the roaring fire. "You're going in with Baz. Stay close and don't go up the second floor; you need to be quick in and out."

"Who's going with you, Lieutenant?" Carlos asks, clearly worried.

"Jameson and Rey are coming with me; stay safe, and if anything happens, just radio in."

"You got it!" Harry pats his shoulder and walks off towards the two waiting men.

Harry knows the men well, he trained them when they came into the house, but they preferred B-shift instead of being with him. One spot was available, and he knew they didn't want to be separated. Rey and Jameson have been dating for two years, but that's a secret only very few know. It's not prohibited, but if it gets more serious, one will have to relocate to a new station. They simply aren't ready for that, and indeed Harry would be sad not to have them around the house or hearing their stories. It just adds a more considerable risk because, at the end of the day, the job is first.

Rey walks towards the entrance with Harry following right behind. Jameson, a few feet back, calling out for anyone in there that needs help.

"Fire department, call out." Echoes out as much as it can as the fire begins to roar louder.

The heat gets worse the further they walk in; they turn right at the edge of a desk labeled "Torres."

"H, there!" Rey shouts, rushing over to a man knocked unconscious and had heavy storage struck over his legs, pinning him down. Harry and Jameson run over, assessing the man before making any sudden moves.

Jameson finds a pulse, weak but there. He gets the extra mask over the man's face hoping it'll wake him up soon.

"On the count of three, we lift," Harry tells the two men standing to a stand as the others do the same.

They nod. "One, two, three." They grunt in unison, pushing the container to a standing position. Harry looks over the man's legs and is thankful there is no blood, but there will be swelling and bruises. "Right, Rey, take him out. We'll keep searching."

Rey nods, lifting the man over his shoulder as he was trained to do, and rushes out of the burning building. Harry and Jameson have just learned a new area when the radio comes on. "Lieutenant Styles, it's Carlos. We found two men; only one remains unaccounted for."

Harry nods. "Got it, no one comes back in. We'll be out soon."

He now leads the way, making his way towards a stairway. There's no fire here, but it's moving faster, and smoke is thick. Whoever is in here might not last much longer without oxygen.

"Fire department, call out," Harry shouts, voice firm.

"Here.." a whisper is heard, both Harry and Jameson freeze. Once more, "here" is yelled but sounds muffled.

Harry looks around, not seeing anything but fire, and fears the structure will collapse soon. Just as he was about to yell again, he sees a can knocked, and a man hidden under a black rag is seen. Jameson rushes over, helping the man sit up. He's older, well into his sixties. He doesn't look too well; he has a few scapes.

"Right, we need to head out," Jameson tells Harry, helping the man stand up who is fighting consciousness.

"This is Lieutenant Styles; on our way out found the last man. Have paramedics on standby."

"Got it, Styles. Get out quick."

Jameson and Harry get the man up and head to exit. Harry can see the light of day and knows he will be late for lunch, but thankful Y/N is understanding and very forgiving. He'll make it up to her by buying dessert.

Just as they almost reach the door, a piece of dry wood comes falling down, separating Harry and Jameson; luckily, it did not hit them, but now Harry has to find a new way out. It's not looking good.

"Harry," Jameson looks panicked, but Harry stays calm.

"Get him out, now," Harry tells him, looking in every direction for what to do.

"No, I won't-" Harry cuts him off.

"Jameson, get this man out. He needs medical attention. That's an order." Voice full of authority with no room to argue.

Jameson nods and heads out. "I'm coming back for you."

Harry chuckles. He sees a small path, but it'd be a more extended way out. He debates what to do. He could wait, but the longer he stays, the quicker this building is beginning to collapse.

It takes him two seconds to decide to go right and find a new route out instead of staying put. He walks and only gets hotter as the fire begins to surround him. He's good at not panicking, always thinks better under pressure, but this is getting intense. Harry climbs over a crate and bends low to go through this tight space. He sees the exit, it's still a bit away, but he knows he is in the clear.

That's when he hears a big explosion knocking him forward. His oxygen masks flys off, landing a few feet away. As Harry reaches his hand out to get it, he's pulled back. He looks behind and sees he's stuck. There are crates stacked on top of him. The air is thick of smoke, and with no oxygen, it seems like the fire will soon enough engulf him.

Shit.

He's really in trouble now.

Harry presses his radio, holding it, hoping it's still working. "This is Harry," He coughs. "I'm trapped under a few crates. I can't reach my ask. I'm west of the building."

"Harry, hold on. We're going in." Harry hears Jameson reply, but he's fading quickly.

He shakes his head. "Can't go to sleep, but this smoke is too thick to actually see anything, let alone for his team to find him.

"Tell…" He coughs again, and this time doesn't stop for what feels like five minutes but is only a few seconds. "Tell angel, I'm sorry."

A voice comes over the speaker, but Harry's eyelids are fluttering shut, the weight of the crates is too much, and the smoke only gets deeper in his lungs if he keeps speaking.

Harry welcomes the darkness as he sees the one person he was supposed to meet for lunch. She's holding an outstretched hand for him to take and who is he to ever say no to her.

Real or not, he goes to her, and soon enough, he falls unconscious, not feeling when his team lifts him out and puts him in the back of an ambulance.

Y/N decided to show up a bit earlier for their lunch date, putting in their order early, wanting to maximize all their time together. She wouldn't see him until late that night, and honestly, she wasn't a fan of being separated on her favorite day of the week.

She sits on a bench right outside, both sandwiches wrapped tucked away in a brown paper bag and a lemonade sitting next to her untouched. It was his favorite, too sweet in her opinion. Still, Harry loved it, especially since he wasn't one to indulge in sweets unless they were hers.

Knowing Harry could be running late, she pulls out a book from her orange tote bag that Harry gifted to her. The book was Beach Read, Frankie recommended it to her then gave her the book saying she needed to read more romance books and not just poetry and nonfiction books. She actually enjoyed it, which surprised her, but even if she didn't, she's too invested to not find out the ending.

She was just starting chapter five when she feels too much time has passed and glances down at her phone.

2:55

25 minutes late isn't bad or unusual even; she decides to put the book away and keep an eye out for him. Usually, when he keeps her waiting, he makes up for it with a long kiss that never fails to take her breath away; she's excited about it now.

Time seems to go slower when she just sits waiting. She debates beginning to eat her sandwich when her stomach starts to growl. It's low, but she would feel bad if she began to eat, and that's when he shows up. She settles for waiting and instead takes a drink of the sweet lemonade.

As Y/N sits waiting for Harry, her phone begins to ring and displays an unknown number but the city's area code. Every bone in her body tells her to prepare for the worst but hopes she's paranoid.

She takes a deep breath before answering and bringing the phone up to her ear.

"Hello, are you angel?" A deep voice man asks.

"It's Y/N. Actually, can I ask who's calling?" She's holding her breath; only one person calls her angel.

"I'm calling on behalf of Lieutenant Harry Styles. Harry has been in an accident and was taken to the hospital. He asked us to call an angel on his way to the hospital. We assumed you were one of his emergency contacts."

Y/N feels her hands begin to shake. "What hospital?"

The man on the phone rattles the information, and she lets it all sink in. He hangs up, and she sits there waiting on the bench for her date that will not be showing up.

Her phone rings again, she answers without looking at the caller.

"Y/N," she recognized the voice; it's Mitch, and if he's calling, then it must be true.

"Mitch," she whispers, not recognizing her own voice. It's shaky, tears beginning to well up.

"Where are you?"

"At the bistro a street down from the station." She replies, hoping he's coming for her.

"I'm close; we'll pick you up and go see him, darling." She nods but remembers he can't see her.

Y/N isn't sure why she's not crying. She feels the tears, but it's like they are stuck; her heart hurts, and she knows that says enough. "We were supposed to meet for lunch. I got worried when he didn't show up, but I didn't think--" he interrupts her.

"Harry is going to be fine, trust me. He's okay, and he needs us there."

Y/N doesn't reply because she sees him pulling in. Mitch is in the passenger seat, Sarah is driving. She doesn't say a word as she swings open the door and settles in the back.

She sets her hands in her lap; she can feel herself trembling. She can feel herself breaking because she won't know if he's okay until she sees him. Mitch can say he's fine, but she needs to see for herself.

Sarah and Mitch share a concerned look; Y/N doesn't notice her eyes looking out the window.

"Y/N?" Mitch begins, voice full of concern. "Do you- are you okay to go see him?"

"Of course." She replies quickly. "He needs me; well, I hope he does."

"Course he needs you. Needs his angel by his side." Sarah tells her calmly, wanting to see her smile, but it doesn't work because only Harry should be calling her that. She shouldn't be on her way to see him in a hospital bed. She should have seen him next to her on that bench as he ate his sandwich and gave her kiss and kiss as she told him stories.

They are silent the rest of the way. Sarah pulls into an empty parking space, and she rushes after Mitch, who seems to know exactly where Harry is as he rushes past the front desk. The only thing that slows them down is waiting for the elevator; she gladly would have taken the stairs if Mitch didn't tell her that he's on the sixth floor. Instead, she waits impatiently for the old elevator that will take her to see her love.

He is going to be okay. He has to be okay. Y/N keeps those thoughts running through her head as Mitch and Sarah guide her to room 613.

Mitch walks in first, holding the door open, Sarah places a comforting hand on her back, and Y/N feels supported and loved, but nothing prepares her for what she is about to walk into.

The constant beep of Harry's heart monitor is the only thing that can be heard in his private room. The beep is steady; it makes her let out a deep breath. The monitor already calming her down, she approaches slowly as if he'd wake if she'd walk any faster.

She sits in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed and pulls it as close as she can.

Y/N just stares at him, taking it all in. He looks like he's resting peacefully like he should originally have been when they started this day together. His curls are disheveled, his face dirty with smoke stains and a few gauzes wrapped around his arms. She can't see much else but knows he's got a road of recovery still ahead of him.

"Hi, Harry," she whispers, her hand slowly reaching under the white sheet to grab hold of his right hand. "I'm right here, okay. Take your time waking up; there's no rush. Just know that I'm not going anywhere."

She pauses, hoping for a reply even though she knows she won't get one. "We can also discuss how I'm sort of one of your emergency contacts."

Y/N presses her lips to his hand. "Need you to wake up, want to see those Rapunzal eyes." She sits back, not removing her hand from his. Sarah has not taken her eyes off of her, Sarah might feel like she might blow up soon, but being at his side, she has begun to feel better.

"Harry, we're here for you. The whole team is outside in the lobby, probably why they sent us to the floor with the biggest waiting area. Even young Carlos is out there, saying you gave them a scare but really hopes you never pick up another B-shift again." Mitch sniffles before stepping out of the room. Sarah walks over to where he was standing.

"Hey Harold, it's trivia night in a few days, and kind of counting on you to get us those free drinks." Sarah chuckles. "It's been a while since we've been in the hospital. I think it was when I made you all donate blood for that ambulance competition. Fun times, now you rest and get better. The good thing is you have the best nurse looking out for you." Sarah glances at Y/N, sending her a small smile.

Y/N sits back in her chair as Sarah sits in one by the window. She knows she's in for a long afternoon and an even longer night.

Harry's head is throbbing.

He's not sure why. The last he remembers is leaving Y/N's house to go for his shift at the station.

They were meeting for lunch; he's sure she wouldn't let him drink any alcohol on the job.

Harry slowly opens his eyes and is blinded by the bright light. He sees a photo of the sunset right in front of him, and a tv hung up; if he's not mistaken, he's in a hospital room, primarily due to being in an uncomfortable bed. The oxygen mask over his face is also a dead giveaway he was in an accident.

He looks around, and he sees he is not alone. His angel is sleeping, a tight grip on his right hand; she looks exhausted. Mitch walks in just as Harry was about to wake her. Y/N mumbles and sits up, pulling her hand away from his to rub the sleep away. Harry wants to tell her to stop knowing how much it actually irritates her eyes, especially when she tubs a little harsher than usual.

"Were you able to find tea, Mitch?" Y/N asks, looking over at him.

"Sarah's bringing it over." Mitch's gaze never turns to her staying on Harry; this confuses Y/N and turns back around in her seat to look at a resting Harry but instead finds his eyes on her.

"Harry!" Y/N scoots forward, grasps his hand in hers. "You're awake. Mitch, the nurse, please."

Harry raises his free hand to take off the mask. He wants to speak, but this won't allow him. "No, love. Got to keep it on."

Harry's eyes close, then flutter open. He stares at Y/N, his eyes kind but defiant. He takes the mask off, coughing a bit; it makes Y/N feel nauseous, knowing he's not doing so well.

"I think you need to keep it on, Harry." She says, "the nurse needs to see it when she comes in soon."

"Hey, angel," he says in a raspy voice. It sounds like he's in pain when he talks.

"Yes?" She asks.

"I'm sorry for scaring you."

Y/N shrugs, "no big deal. I wasn't even scared."

Harry smiles, showering her his dimples since she last saw him this morning. He begins to laugh but stops when it causes him to cough. Y/N lets him settle down before bending down to gently kiss him.

"Now, let that hold you over, and put the mask pack on."

Harry nods. "Anything for you, my angel."

It's a half-hour before the doctor comes in, and by that time, Harry had fallen back asleep, only just waking up a few minutes before the man walked through the door. Mitch alerted everyone outside he was awake and doing good.

Dr. Vazquez walked white coat open, displaying a purple button-up and a bright yellow tie. It puts a smile on Y/N's face.

"Hello, Mr. Styles. Glad you're awake."

"Me too, Doc. Nice tie."

Dr. Vaquez smiles, looking down at himself, "Thank you, my wife picks out my tie every morning before she heads off to work."

"Lucky man," Harry tells him.

"That I am." Dr. Vazquez replies. "You've got a mild concussion, nothing serious, but you are allowed to sleep while you're here. We've got a good team looking out for you. You've got a few burns, but those will heal nicely if properly cared for. A few deep bruises on your leg and one on your rib cage, no blood clots. It will hurt to walk for a few days."

"Nothing too bad, then," Harry sighs, relaxing in bed.

"I've looked at your charts, and it looks like you will be making a full recovery and should be back on the job in three or four weeks. In the meantime, you will need to stay overnight and keep taking in oxygen. I see the nurse changed your mask. Please don't remove this one." Harry nods. "Any questions?"

Harry shakes his head no, "Not at the moment."

"Alright, I'll be off then. I'll come to see you tomorrow midday, and we'll talk about going home. I hear you have a waiting room full of people dying to see; just be aware that visiting hours end at nine, but if you're kind to Nurse Lucy, she'll be lenient to ten."

"Thank you, Dr. Vazquez." Mitch and Y/N say in unison as the man exits the room.

"That's the quietest I've ever seen you, firebug." Harry teases.

"You hush." She lightly pats his arm.

Mitch laughs, "going to go tell them you're allowed, visitors."

Y/N and Harry sit in silence. He can tell she has something on her mind, a slight frown on her face. He wonders if it's about him if she won't be able to handle dating someone who can be hurt by the job. Harry honestly does not want to lose her.

"I'm going to step out," Y/N tells him, looking down at their joined hands, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"Y/N," Harry sighs.

"You've got lots of people waiting to see you and roughly have an hour to see them all. I'll be close by." She leans down, presses a kiss to his cheek, and walks out before he can reach out to stop her.

She steps out while a few members of his team come in to see him offering her a smile as she passes them. As much as she didn't want to leave him, she needed a moment away, and he needed a moment with his family.

God, Y/N has never felt so scared, and now a minute alone, everything is beginning to set in. She has no idea where the restroom is, and the next thing she knows, she's running into someone, but it seems they recognize her because they say her name, and the next thing she knows, she's crying, sinking to the floor. She feels arms wrap around her.

Shushes in her ear, brushing the ends of her hair. It's calming, but she needs to let all the tears she's been holding in.

"Y/N," she can now recognize the voice as Sarah's, "I'm going to help you stand and sit you in the chair.

Y/N feels herself nod.

She begins taking deep breaths, never letting Sarah pull her hand away. It is the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I got her some water." Y/N hears Frankie whisper handing it to Sarah before taking the seat to the left of her.

"I'm okay," she repeats. "I'm okay."

"Y/N," Sarah begins.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweetie." Frankie brushes her hair back.

"I'm supposed to be strong; I have to be strong to do this to stand by his side," Y/N tells them, beginning to let her emotions out.

"No one is expecting you not to cry."

"Bu-" Sarah interrupts her.

"No. stop. Accidents happen, and so do injuries. It's okay to be scared and hurt."

"I want to be strong for him." She whispers.

"You are. You never left his side; you talked to him. You're crying now because you care."

She wipes her eyes with her sweater sleeves. "I love him, and I was so scared that when I got the call, I'd never get to tell Harry."

"Then you tell him as soon as you walk back into his room."

"Thank you."

"Nothing to thank, I care about you, and I know Harry would be grateful to know you're not alone. You've always got us. Now let's grab something to eat, and we'll come back in an hour once all of them go home."

She chuckles. "Alright."

"Text me where you're sitting. I'll pop in to see Harry, then meet you."

"You don't have to," Y/N tells Frankie because she knows she is just as concerned about her friend.

"Are you kidding me? You're my friend first, always."

Sarah and Y/N walk down to the cafeteria. She knows she isn't okay but is feeling better, finally letting emotion out. It was only a matter of time before she let the dam break; she's just happy it was not in front of Harry.

The girls sit in the cafeteria munching on snacks for well over an hour. Mitch sends them a message letting them know all the crew has left and it's time to say goodbye for the night. Frankie wishes her goodnight downstairs with promises to come to see her tomorrow and bring her a change of clothes.

"Let's walk you back," Sarah tells her, linking their arms together.

"Do you think he'll know?" Sarah takes a good look at her and grimaces. "I'll just say I tripped, and it made me cry." Y/N jokes.

"I don't think he'll believe that."

"Yeah, me either." The girls walk out of the elevator as their laughter dies down.

They settle in silence as they make their way to his room, Sarah holding her hand leading the way. Mitch is in the chair she was in for so many hours before waiting for him to wake up. Mitch hears their footsteps and turns his head, but Harry is frowning, looking out the window at the dark sky.

Y/N doesn't know what to say, but one look at him has her heart filling up with relief; he's okay.

He's fine, and he gets to go home soon, and she gets to love him all she wants.

Harry turns his head as she steps forward. "Angel," he breathes out.

It makes her eyes well up with tears again. "I love you," she just lets it out, as if she's told Harry this every day as if she never went a moment not saying it.

"Oh my angel," Harry begins to cry, feeling overwhelmed and incredibly happy. His angel loves him, and although this isn't a perfect day, the moment is.

Mitch and Sarah sneak out quietly, shutting the door behind them to give them their privacy.

"I love you so much. Please come here." Harry replies, voice shaky.

In the next second, she's moving forward, pulling the chair as close as she can as he grabs her hands, squeezing them tightly. She leans down and presses her lips to his chapped pink lips. They move gently, pouring all their love and fears into the kiss. Telling each other that the worst is over and they are together, and they are fine. Y/N pulls back, knowing she can't kiss him as long as she'd like due to his sensitive lungs.

"Harry, I love you, and I was so scared I'd never get to say it."

"I'm sorry, angel; I never wanted you to get a call like this, at least not before talking about it."

"Me either," She sniffles, no longer able to control her tears, "but it happened, and I'm just happy you're okay."

"I'm okay," he repeats. She smiles, taking one of her hands out of his hold to wipe his tears away; Harry can't help but lean his head into her gentle touch. "I'm okay because my angel is always looking after me.

"Harry."

"It's true. I've never been luckier and safer since you came into my life." She smiles. "But there's something we have to talk about." He continues, and by the tone of his voice, it's going to be serious.

"Are you okay?"

"What? I'm fine. You're the one in a hospital bed." Her tone is defensive.

"There's something wrong. I can see it."

Y/n sighs, taking a deep breath. She takes her hand out of his hold.

Harry is quick to mask his hurt.

"I don't like that you're hurt. I hate that we aren't at home in the kitchen dancing around to your Sunday playlist as I bake you a new treat." She says in a rush.

"Hey, love, relax," he says and gestures for her to move in closer. She does so, allowing him to take hold of her hands with a firm grip this time.

"You're upset because I got hurt?" She nods in reply to his question. It's stupid because, of course, he's going to get hurt; it'd be naive to think he wouldn't in his job.

"It's part of the job." He says simply. It's something he wants her to accept and remember. She thinks back to a month into dating when he told her about his ex-girlfriend and how she couldn't handle the unknown of the job each day he left her. Y/N thought she'd be fine, but she loves him, and losing him would be something she could never recover from.

"I know. It's just not easy to see." Her voice was quiet and defeated.

"What do we do?" Harry asks, and Y/N freezes; she can feel her heart beating in her ears.

What do we do?

"What do you mean?" She can feel her hands begin to shake.

"This can happen again." He gestures to him in the hospital bed.

"I know." She says softly.

"Is this something you can handle or not?" He asks very direct. She knows this might not be the first time he's had the conversation, but she just told him she loved him, and he's questioning her. She's allowed to feel this way, but it doesn't mean she can't handle it.

"Y/N," he begins, "I'm incredibly happy with you. I see you and me together for a long time. You're it for me, but this job is my life."

"I know," she repeats. "I would never ask you to give up your job."

Harry stares at her; heartbreak passes through his eyes. "Are you asking me to give you up?

She shakes her and begs for the tears not to fall, but it's no use. She feels them falling and can't wipe them as Harry has a hold of her hands.

"Harry, I love you." He frowns as if fearing the worst. "I love you, and I'd rather love you every moment I have you than let you go now and never know what could have been."

"Oh, thank god." Harry lets out a deep breath. She giggles. "I'm sorry we couldn't have this conversation earlier; honestly, I feared if I brought it up, you could possibly break up with me, and I selfishly wanted to have you longer."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere, not if it's up to me. Seeing you laid up is hard but knowing I get to be there for you makes up for it. Also helps that I'm a nurse."

"That it does."

Y/n grins at Harry, leaning in to kiss him, short and sweet for now. Each kiss never fails to make her heart race, and due to Harry's heart monitor, she knows it does the same to him. They sit in silence, staring at each other as Harry traces small shapes against Y/N's cheeks, loving the feeling of her in his hand. Especially when she lets out a soft giggle when he hits a sensitive spot.

"Move in with me," Y/N blurts out after a while of silence.

It shocks Harry. "What?"

"Until you're better. That way, I can be your in-home nurse."

"Only until I'm better?" She nods. "So, you'll give me the boot after." Harry teases.

Y/N can feel her cheeks warming up but pushes through, "Only if you're a bad patient."

Harry smiles, dimples on full display for her, always for her. "Okay, I can be good and naughty only when you ask."

"Harry!" She gasps.

He throws his head back, laughing.

"God, I'm so lucky to love you." His words warm her heart, and she promises to tell him every day from now on.

"Now get up here and cuddle me. I got Mitch to cue up Netflix."

"Are you sure?" She stands slipping her shoes off, knowing he won't be taking no for an answer.

"Going to deprive an injured man of what he wants most?"

"Guess not."

"Good."

Y/N crawls on and lays on his side, carefully resting her head on his chest. Harry presses kiss after kiss for his comfort, knowing he will be okay and has his favorite person by his side. She chooses Legally Blonde knowing it's Harry's comfort movie as much as he tries to deny it.

For an unusual start to their Sunday, it ends right; together in bed, a hospital bed but nonetheless a bed, together arms wrapped tight around each other.

Y/N might not have liked that Harry got hurt, but he's okay, and he will recover.

That's all she could ever ask for.

thank you so much for reading!

please send me a message of what you thought or if you'd like to see more firefighter harry

I adore you. take care xx

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles ou #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #firefighter!harry #harry fanfic #harry fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #my writing

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lipstickstainz · 4 years ago

Text

true lies - s. r. (12/?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: A collection of letters Spencer and you share while you're gone - and then you're gone forever. At least, that what he thinks.

Warnings: some fluff, angst, angst, angst, smoking, slight ptsd, grief and loss

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I'm sososososo sorry. please don't hate me. I love you. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

Dearest little bear,

two months have passed since you had to leave, and not a day goes by that I don't think of you and wish you were here with me.

We are trying to do everything in our power to be able to bring you back home. But unfortunately, it seems to be taking longer than I would like.

I was told you were working on it as well. You are strong and smart and even though you can't be with me, I'm sure we can do it together.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

I was very happy to receive your message. I always carry it with me, although I would rather be in your arms, but I can't.

I can't tell you where I am right now, but still I wish you were with me. It is warm and beautiful and I am sure you would like it here very much.

Except for these letters, I'm not allowed to talk to any of you, but I like talking to you best anyway. We've come this far. And we'll make it.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

It's been four months and with each passing second it becomes more unbearable. But a light is appearing at the end of the dark tunnel. We think we know who she is.

It won't be long before we can see each other again. And I can't wait to be able to hug you again. To be able to touch you. Or kiss you.

Not much longer. And then nothing can separate us.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

It would have been too good to be with you again at last. But it still takes time.

I have found something that can help us, but for now, just know that I will do everything I can so that I can return home. Back to you. No matter what it costs.

Keep your eyes open. We're closer than you think.

I'm thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

I was given time off to take a break. I was with my mother and she told me that a kind young lady had been here. She doesn't remember you, but she knows you are familiar and that she can trust you. As I do.

I am infinitely grateful. And I'm tired of waiting, but for you I do. For you, I do it all.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest Neruda,

I can no longer grasp a clear thought, because whenever I close my eyes I see everything I have done in review. I can hardly sleep and the nightmares plague me.

I just hope that everything will end soon. It has already been a year since we saw each other. I can't promise you anything, but I hope you know that everything I had to do was for you. For us.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

Dearest little bear,

it's been a few weeks since I've heard from you. I hope you are doing well.

We have found a trail that will take us further.And brings me a little closer to you. And that will bring you back home. I can't wait.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

It's been two months since you wrote to me.

Get back to me as soon as you can.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

Words cannot describe how much I miss you. Or how great the pain in my chest is.

I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can hardly breathe without you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

they hung your picture today. In the portrait you are smiling, proud to finally be part of the team. I can't look at it.

I was sent home, but everything there reminds me of you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

I keep your letters in a small box next to my bed. They are a part of you that I don't want to lose, even though I have already lost you. They are a part of you, just as you are a part of me.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dearest little bear,

I went to our bookstore and found a book of poems that you would like. I'll put it with your letters.

No book in the world could have prepared me for the grief I feel. The pain is too engaging for me to talk about it with anyone but you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dear little bear,

it's been almost two years since we last saw each other. I don't remember what you sound like, or what you smell like. Why can't I remember that? Is it wrong of me not to think it's bad? It takes away my pain a little.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

Dear little bear,

A lot has happened in the two years we've been apart. Too much to ever be able to write down all the things. I just want you to know that this time was not easy for me. Not for any of us.

I put your letters away safely because you will always be important to me. But I have to let you go. And with this, I release you.

I love you. Forever.

With love,

Neruda

You pinch your leg to wake up. Your neck is wet with cold sweat and you have to blink several times to realize that you are in a cab. You run your hand through your hair as the driver looks at you curiously through the rearview mirror. He says nothing, which is why you glance out the window.

The drive from the airport to Quantico only takes an hour, but you still take the opportunity to close your eyes for a moment and doze a little. You haven't had a decent night's sleep in ages, you don't even know what a healthy portion of sleep feels like anymore, because you haven't had that luxury in the last two years.

As the car comes to a stop in front of the FBI building, you pay the driver and get out with your small bag. The building seems much bigger than you remember. You used to spend every day here, it had once been your home. But now you're not even sure you have a home anymore.

You take a deep breath and enter through the large doors, but are directly approached by a security guard.

"Miss? Are you visiting?", he asks suspiciously, extending his arm to keep you at a distance - something that wouldn't do him much good if you were actually trying to get past him.He eyes you up and down, which you can't blame him for. In your ripped jeans, dirty sneakers, and loose sweater, you don't look like someone who belongs here. By now, you don't either.

You look at him. "I'm here to see Unit Chief Prentiss", you reply coolly. You know he's just doing his job, but you're too impatient to let all this wash over you. You know Emily is already in the office. You know her too well not to. Why doesn't he just go get her? You just want to see your friend.

"Chief Prentiss?" He raises an eyebrow. "And what is your request?"

Your gaze is rock hard and your tone cold as ice. "Tell her Y/N Y/L/N is here to see her."

You wait outside the building, letting the morning sun warm your skin and the cigarette burn between your fingers before you put it to your lips and take a drag. Afterwards, you stub it out on a trash can. As you exhale the last bit of smoke, you turn around. And there she is.

Emily is standing at the door, and when you see her, you drop your bag and wrap her in your arms so tightly that you can't breathe. You cling to her, afraid that maybe this whole thing isn't as real as it feels, but you imperceptibly pinch your arm. And she is still with you.

"I thought - they said", she stammers, and it's the first time in your friendship that she's speechless. You hug her even tighter.

"I know", you answer softly, blinking away the tears that have formed in your eyes. The moment is too beautiful to cry. As you break away from each other, Emily wipes her own tears from her cheeks, but some have already landed on her blouse. There are dark stains now.

"I don't even know what to say", she says, smiling at you as you enter the building together. The guard gives you a look, but doesn't ask any questions as you walk past him toward the elevator. Inside, she pushes a button that takes you to the BAU floor. "I can hardly believe you're really here."

Neither can you.

The office is completely silent because no one is here yet except for you. Although nothing has changed, everything has changed because you are now someone else. It's been a long time since you've been here. Two years, but everything in this room is all too familiar to you. The coffee machine, the law books, the files. It feels like you've never been away. It's déjà vu all over again.

While Emily gets you both coffee, you sit down at the round table and wait for her. Your friend sets the cups down on the table before sitting down next to you. She smiles faintly. "How are you?"

You pucker your mouth. How are you? You haven't been asked that question in ages, and to be honest, you don't know how to answer it either. How could you possibly be?

When you don't answer Emily, she phrases her question differently. "What are you feeling right now?"

Your lips become a thin line. "I don't know. It feels like all of this," you point to the room, "isn't a part of me anymore. Nothing has changed, but it still feels foreign."

Emily nods. "You've been through a lot, I guess." She takes a sip of her coffee. "You're right, Y/N. Nothing has really changed here. But you're a different one now, aren't you?"

You open your mouth to answer her, but you don't know what either. Part of you feels at home here, but a bigger part of you knows your place is somewhere else. You just don't know where exactly.

"Do you want to see the others?", Emily asks. "I'm asking you because it's been a long time since you've seen them. And they think you're...you know. Are you ready for that?"

Are you ready for that? You haven't seen either of them in a long time, and it would probably be better not to see them for now, but to let Emily sort it out first. But the team is your family - the closest thing you have to a family. And you've missed them all terribly.

You nod and take a sip of your coffee as JJ and Rossi enter the room. When they see you, they glance uncertainly at Emily, as if they're not sure if it's just imagination, but she nods at them. And that's when all the dams break for JJ.

She pulls you from your chair and hugs you like the salvation of the world depends on it, and David has to pry her cramped arms from you so he can put his around you as well. They affirm to you how much they missed you and ask how you are, wanting to know what happened, but Tara and Penelope join them and that's when it gets too loud for you.

Penelope cries with joy and Tara also can't believe that you are standing in front of her. They besiege you and ask you questions to which you have no answers, so you just smile weakly at them. They definitely don't mean any harm, after all, you've just risen from the dead for them, but you've spent the last while in silence and are no longer used to this volume. So you turn away from them. They look anxiously after you as you sort of flee from them. You hope that this will make the headache go away.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you find yourself facing the wall where the pictures of the deceased agents hang. And yours is hanging there, too. You don't know how long you've been standing in front of it - minutes? hours? -until a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Y/N?"

You turn around and there stands Spencer. His hair is a little shorter and he looks like he's seen a ghost. Well, he sort of has.

You want to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, and never let him go. Seeing him knocks the air out of your lungs, which is why you can barely breathe. The two years without him had been hell on earth, but you got through them. For him.

For Spencer, who doesn't take his eyes off you as the blonde woman next to him, whose fingers are intertwined with his, looks at him and asks, "Honey, who's that?"

- tags -

@obsssedwithjustaboutanything // @ashwarren32 // @slytherinbth // @rexorangecouny // @candlemouse // @lexymoniqu // @m3sml // @username2002 // @calliecookie // @haylaansmi // @thehuntresswolf // @skyslowalking // @padsfirewhisky // @criminalminds4days // @criminallyoddsocks // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @vladsgirlxx // @justdianaz // @x2moonlight2x-blog // @countingthestarsinfinitely // @box-of-fandom-stuff // @sergeantbuckybarnes // @princesssmooshie // @sassiest-politician // @ littledm2000 // @a-broken-pact // @strawberry-tea // @sassy-hades // @danrad-rdj4ever // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @smell-my-twisted-shadows // @poeticsassandtrash // @wintrrrsoldier // @peaceluvnirvana // @jemimah-b99 // @lokislilslut // @advicefromnixxxx // @panicattheeverywherekid // @my-guilty-pleasures--of-life // @itsdars @pjmjams // @imagine-this-motherfucker // @sasbb23 // @fivedicksinatrenchcoat // @missyoumaybank // @blameitonthenight21 // @s-r-16 // @knee-coall // @hamlewis // @twodirtymindedgirls // @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness // @imdefinitelyfloating // @crazyloca06 // @gardenroses1 // @saspencereid // @enchantedlove90 // @sizzlingclamturtlesludge // @moondustmemories // @bambi-is-my-name // @beg0neth0t420 // @william-shookespeare // @pancake2603 // @ayo-cowbelly // @herbstmelody // @frnks-stuff // @mimischaos // @lilxnvm // @archiveofadragon // @burnin-passion // @oddobsessionbutotay // @chaoticdreamsss // @ghostly-ginger // @knittingstudyblr // @gorbagreb // @biafbunny // @ayo-cowbelly // @ellyseveronica // @saspencereid // @takethee // @ethereal-stark // @shirayuki1204 // @spencerreidspp // @jesuswasnotawhiteman // @stinkykay // @exzidss // @ifuckinghatepinapples // @youhaveabadconnection // @kaseyjohnson04 // @vampiracontessa // @princesssmooshie // @gardenroses1 // @r0s3mm // @willyoulovemeinthemorning // @rrtxcmt // @softpeteparker // @littleiswhattheycallme // @hoeyadoingbitch // @emmariexx // @oops-all-ajs / @reidemandweep // @oliwisstephhh // @g0lden-cth // @measure-in-pain // @amesandpineapples // @spencerreidat3am //

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid series #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds #criminal minds one shot #Emily Prentiss #tara lewis #Jennifer jareau #aaron hotchner

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volturicangetit · 4 years ago

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D.V/A.V/J.V/F.V- soft moments

anon: ANY OF THE VOLTURI GUARDS WITH 9, 10, 12, AND 13 FROM YOUR PROMPTS.

9 ” Vampires? God no, those fuckers can go back to the ’ Vampire Diaries ’, I’ll have a wolf. “

10 ” Fuck me. “ ” I might. “

12 ” There is blood on my new couch, my phone just broke and I’m already in big debt so, no, I won’t calm down. “.

13 ” Cool cape, mosquito boy. “

A/N: I decided to just use one prompt for every guard so yeah, because I just couldn’t choose between them. <#

DEMITRI:

A steady knock on your window pulls your attention away from your book. You look up at your left towards your window. A dark figure with two bright red eyes is staring at you. A normal person would be terrified, but not you. You have gotten to know the person as Demitri. You met him two months back when you had gotten lost in the city that you now call your home, Volterra. He had shown you around and brought you back to your house and you have stayed friends ever since. He comes by almost every night to check up on you and hang out at your place for a bit. You quickly throw the book down onto the couch you are sitting on and jump up, running to the window. You open it and Demitri silently makes his way inside. You quickly close the window behind him to prevent any more cold air from coming into your warm home. Demitri wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a tight hug. His cold skin is concealed by a thick layer of clothes. His normally formal outfit of a robe and blouse is now replaced by a pair of sweatpants and a sweater. You didn't know any better than 'casual Demitri' but if any of his coven members saw him like this, it would be a culture shock. "Demi," you croak out. "Can't breath.". You give him some pats on his back so signal him to let you go. He quickly releases you from his grip and walks over to the couch before letting himself fall onto the soft furniture. His fingers run over the cotton fabric that covers it.

"So, what have you been up to?" he asks. A smile appears onto your face at the sound of his voice. God, you loved his accent. You walk over to him and grab the book that is lying beside him. He looks at the cover. "A vampire novella?" he asks. You shake your head, smacking his head with the book softly before plopping onto the couch next to him and continuing your book.

"Vampires? God no, those fuckers can go back to the ’ Vampire Diaries ’, I’ll have a wolf," you say before pointing at the white wolf printed into the cover of the book. Demitri fake pouts as he holds a hand over his heart. "Oh, how it breaks my old heart to hear that.". You know about Demitri's vampirism. You don't know the in's and out's of it but it also isn't very hard to guess judging by his red eyes and unusual clothing when you first met.

You shrug, putting the book down again. "Yeah, I don't know. At least wolves won't try to kill me," you say. You put your two pointer fingers up to your lips, making 'fangs' with them. "I want to suck yer' blood!" you say in a bad Dracula-like accent. Demitri lets out a laugh as he gives your arm a playful slap. "On a totally different note, want to watch a movie? Maybe 'Dracula'?" you ask. Demitri throws a pillow that is lying beside him at your head.

"Or 'The vampires assistant'?" you giggle as you shield yourself from the pillow. Demitri lets out a groan as lets his head fall back and rest against the couch. "Will you ever stop with those annoying vampire jokes?". You shake your head with a shit-eating grin on your lips. Demitri jumps up and holds a hand softly over your throat as he leans in closer. "I might just have to turn you then,". You swat his hand away from you and give him a small push against his chest before grabbing the remote of your television and turning it on, opening Netflix. "Yeah right, now shut up and watch 'Dracula' with me”

ALEC:

You and the other higher guards are walking over to the throne room. A trial is to be held in a couple of minutes and you're presence is requested to protect the masters from a possible lash out. You got yourself a place in the Volturi a couple of hundred years ago when Alec and Jane found you on a mission. You felt a strong pull toward Alec the moment you saw him. Marcus confirmed your suspicion when he stated that you two were indeed mates. You and Alec have been inseparable ever since. Which is why it doesn't even faze you when he suddenly runs up beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he walks with you to the throne room. "I was wondering where you were," you say as you lean into his touch.

"I am sorry, il mio amore, some new guard had gotten into some trouble," he says. You shrug, before looking in front of you again. "It's alright,". The trip to the throne room isn't very long. From behind the door, you can already hear grunts and screaming. The vampire on trial had arrived earlier and is clearly not agreeing with the masters. Alec turns you towards him to give you a kiss. Your lips connect and you melt into his touch. The moment is short-lived though since you hear the sound of the marble floor breaking. A fight. "Fuck me," you mumble under your breath as you get yourself ready to fight off the vampire. "I might," Alec growls into your ear.

You push him off you with a smile. "Maybe if you walk me with the wanker," you say as you point towards the dark oak doors. Alec nods as he walks out in front of you and throws the doors open. He looks over his shoulder and sends a wink your way before using his speed to run towards the angry vampire. Cheeky fucker.

JANE:

You are annoyed. No, angry. Your day had already been shitty. You missed your bus so you had to walk to work through the pouring rain. Your feet have been killing you since you woke up and your boss yelled at you for coming late. Now, when you finally got home, you find your best friend Jane on your now blood-stained couch with your neighbour lying dead beside her. You got so scared from the sight that you let your phone fall on the ground, causing the screen to break. "What the fuck, Jane? What the actual, royal fuck!" you scream at her as you run over to her to check if she's okay. She slaps away your hand tiredly. "I didn't get to drink in some time, I'm sorry," she says as wipes the remainders of blood from the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand. You shake your head as you sprint to your kitchen to get a damp cloth in an effort to safe your ruined couch.

"I got that you have to drink blood and shit, but why the fuck do you need to use my neighbour for that? He's kind, well was, thanks to you," your tone is pointed as you crouch down in front of the couch and to scrub the still fresh blood away. "He was only human," Jane shrugs as she gets up from her position on the floor. She uses her speed to run over to the kitchen and grab herself a cloth as well and starts to help you with the couch.

"Only human? What the fuck is wrong with being human?" you yell. She places a hand on your shoulder which you quickly shrug off. "Jesus, calm down,". You shake your head and throw your cloth at her head. "There is blood on my new couch, my phone just broke and I’m already in big debt so, no, I won’t calm down,". You stand up and starts to walk in circles around your living room. Everything was becoming a bit too much. Jane quickly sees the seriousness of the issues and walks over to you, pulling you into a hug to make you stand still. You break down in her arms, letting the tears that have been building up all day finally fall from your eyes. Jane rubs soft circles on your back with one hand as the others softly pet your head.

"It is going to be alright," she says in a soft voice. " I'll take care of your financials and replace your couch. Vampire money, remember?" she says. You laugh through your tears as you hear her use your term for the insane amount of money the Volturi and its members have build up over time. You nod, wrapping your arms around her small form. "It is going to be alright, I am here for you.”

FELIX:

You are the newest and youngest member of the Volturi, having only been turned three years ago and joining them only a year into your 'second life'. The Volturi normal didn't have such young members but they changed that when Aro saw you using your gift in one of Alice's visions. The age gap between you and the rest is like an elephant in the room. Not only did you dress very different from them, but your vocabulary is also vastly different. You have been getting along with Felix because of this. You are like a breath of fresh air in his dead lungs. "Hey, beefcake!" Felix hears you call out. You have given him that nickname since the moment you met him, and he would be lying is he said it didn't bring a smile to his face. He turns around, looking down at you. "What cracka-lacking, old man?" you say. He tilts his head to the side in confusion.

"Cracka-lacking?" he asks with a smile on his face. You nod. "Yeah, like, what's up?". He nods, shrugs his shoulder before pointing over his shoulder, notifying you on what direction to go. He continues his walk and you follow him. " Not a lot, I have to bring a message to the secretary,".

You wipe some fake sweat of your forehead. "Pf, glad I showed up. You would have given her a heart attack, homie.". He frowns his forehead as he looks at you. "I can't help how fragile human hearts are," he says in a deep tone. You shake your head and give his arm a soft slap.

"Hearts are not fragile, you're just really fucking scary," you say. "Like a big bear. A big blood-sucking bear,". Felix rolls his eyes at your words as you near the secretary. Panic fills her eyes as she spots Felix but that leaves the moment she sees you. You send her a thumbs-up as you run over to her desk, sitting down into it. "Hi, what's popping?" you ask as you two do your handshake. You created a handshake with her as you spent most of your day with her. Not only was it good to be around her to gain more self-control, but since you are still very new to the vampire world you relate to her the most. "Sto bene, grazie," she says. She doesn't know much English, which is why you are teaching her some and she is teaching you Italian. Felix hands a small note he has been holding to her. She quickly reads through it before sending him a smile. She grabs a package from under her desk and hands it to him. "New clothes," she says in a thick accent.

Felix rips the brown bag of the piece of clothing. A robe. He wraps it around his shoulders to see if it fits. "Cool cape, mosquito boy," you say, earning a laugh from the secretary. "I am as much of a mosquito as you are," he says. You nod your head at him as you jump off the desk, spotting Alec at the end of the hall and walking towards him. "Sounds like something a mosquito would say," you say with a laugh before calling out to Alec.

TWILIGHT TAGLIST:

@scuzmunkie @thanossexual @prettyinblack231 @cullens-stuff @rexburn12 @kpopgirlbtssvt

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justfanficccc · 3 years ago

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BLESSED ARE THE MEEK

just some angst and buildup/Father Paul x reader

IIII LORD OF HOSTS

“For the lips of a priest should guard knowledge, and people should seek instruction from his mouth, for he is the messenger of the Lord of hosts.”

The night is long and tedious. You lay out some jeans, a long knit sweater, and your usual leather boots for the next day, Anne would probably disapprove of the tears in the pants but you don’t want to wear another dress. You shower for the second time that day feeling that you need to wash it away and finally lay your head down for the night you snuggle into your new sheets feeling clean again as you drift off. No dreams plague you tonight you are at peace.

It's morning, you feel yourself pop out of bed rather hastily and check the time. 9 am. You prepare your breakfast and play on your phone pretending you can’t feel the yourself becoming excited to see him. The morning passes slower than you expected, you stare at the clock on the wall biting your nails in anticipation. Anne is at work so the house is all yours for a little while. Pacing for what seemed like forever in front of her room you find the courage to push open the door, it's exactly how you’d thought it would be. Boring, a cross above her bed, no sign of anything interesting. You walk to her nightstand and open the drawer carefully. The contents not intriguing you much, just a bible and a few old letters. You pick up the small stained envelope and carefully pull out the handwritten note.

Anne,

I miss you dearly, please come visit soon. I know your mother and I aren’t on the best of terms but we just need time to heal. I am at your grandparent's house, it’s beautiful here. You spent summer break here a few times. I'm sorry if you are upset with me. I am looking forward to hearing back from you.

All my love,

Dad

You feel tears puddling in your eyes and squint them away. “Always daddy’s favorite, all I got was a text telling me to stop antagonizing mom” you murmur to yourself and push the letter back into the drawer haphazardly.

You walk slowly, your boots hitting the ground lightly. Not wanting to seem too eager you end up at the center about 5 minutes late. You feel your heart patter as you come up to the building, luckily you look down before heading in and button the pesky button on your sweater that won’t seem to stay shut. You reach for the handle but before you can open it yourself the heavy door swings open and you are greeted by a startled looking Father Paul his big doe eyes staring as if he had no idea you were coming. He caught himself gawking and smiles awkwardly and gestures to you to enter. You do so swiftly trying to squeeze past him without touching him, but despite your best efforts, you feel your shoulder brush past the bottom of his chest below his collar as you shuffle into the auditorium. He offers you a seat as it seems he has already set up the chairs without your help. You relax into the chair he offered sitting down and instinctively crossing your legs and sitting up straighter than normal, trying to be as well mannered as possible. “I thought I would get a head start this morning and well. It seems I may have not needed your help after all.” He says chuckling as he sits in a chair across from you. You tilt your head and furrow your brow as he sips his coffee from a styrofoam cup his eyes locked on yours. You can’t help but think he looks a bit guilty. After a few awkward moments, he shifts in his seat and places the drink between his feet on the floor. “If I'm being truthful I didn’t need your help with setting all this up.” You keep your eyes on him giving him a puzzled look still not sure what to say. He breaks his gaze and stands up quickly searching the room. “Oh, there it is.” Picking up a very worn bible he swiftly comes and takes his seat again. He flips to a page that seems to be bookmarked and places his finger on the page. “Truth be told I knew I could do it myself but I-I thought you could help me out with this, I’ve been having a hard time incorporating this into the homily because well, I'll just read it for you” He outstretches his arm that isn’t cradling the book.“For the lips of a priest should guard knowledge, and people should seek instruction from his mouth, for he is the messenger of the Lord of hosts.” He paused and rested his hand on the back of his head, deep in thought. “Seems a bit arrogant.” You spit out before you could stop the words. “Yes, a bit.” He grinned coyly, looked up, and closed the book keeping his thumb bookmarked on the page. “I have no idea how to make it seem less...” his eyes shut as he searched his brain for the right word.

“Pretentious?” You blurted out again now feeling a bit more comfortable from how he reacted to your first little outburst. His smile faded as he nodded, less amused now looking a bit conflicted. You feel the heat of embarrassment moving up your chest and into your throat hoping you didn’t offend him. You stop your flustered thoughts for a moment and think “since when did you care about offending someone like him? Ah yes, those devilish good looks are what’s stopping you.” You smile to yourself, in your little world. He’s still looking at you as you bring your eyes to his. Are they filled with inquisitiveness or disdain for you? Usually, when men look at you this way it’s simple to tell what they are thinking. His gaze is undeniably intense. It’s different from the way he looked at you during last night's meal. This was Intimate. Now you wonder if the look he gave you the first time you two locked eyes in the church was this one. Not the lust-filled stare you thought it was. You part your lips and think for a moment contemplating why you were even here in the first place, you realize how inappropriate it was to think he was interested in you like that. He cuts you off before you can start speaking “No need to feel embarrassed, you are just being honest.” He sipped his coffee again eying you behind the rim of his cup. Now you understood what this was. An intervention. Anne must’ve put him up to it, she would know you couldn’t resist and is using it to try and guide you back to church. You tip your head down in defeat realizing how humiliating this is. Taking a breath and realizing you won’t speak your mind he interjects your train of thought “truthfully I wanted to know if you had any ideas on how to make it sound a bit more..appealing.” you scoff at the request. “Honestly, Father,” drawing the word out hoping he’d hear the sarcasm in your tone. “I don’t think Shakespeare could make that book appealing.”

He winces at the harshness in your voice. Finally finding the strength you speak up again “And honestly, I don’t understand why you’d ask someone who doesn’t even believe in the thing to help you with your homily’’ your posture begins to change and turns more hostile as you speak and he takes notice, pulling himself back into his chair arms crossed with a defeated look in his eye. “You caught me.” He raises his hands and smirks. “Your sister explained that you weren’t...” he pauses thinking again. “In a state of Grace.”

“So you thought this would make me interested? Helping you?” He nods almost frantically, not very good at hiding his emotions with his eyes. You sigh, what else do you have to do, you haven’t found work yet this could be something to keep your mind off of things. “Do you really need my help?” Letting yourself relax.

“Well yes, actually I would love you to read these over for me and tell me what you think.’’ He pulls out some disheveled scrap paper from the binder that holds his bible. You reach out to grab them from his outstretched arm, your hand rubs against his finger as you take them and you instantly pull away, papers in hand. “I can come by tomorrow, I’ll edit it tonight’’ you say as you stand keeping your eyes away from his. As you both walk to the door in silence you swore you caught him staring, trailing his eyes down the curve of your neck, it’s then you realized the stupid button had unbuttoned itself again. Your chest and cheeks flush. You don’t want to pull attention to it in hopes you were just imagining him staring so you don’t bother fixing it. He steps in front of you quickly, not letting you handle the door yourself “I will be looking forward to it.’’ He says as he pushes open the door for you. You walk past him quickly this time making sure not to touch him. “We are all welcome in God's house.” You hear him whisper sweetly to you as you pass him.

#fanfic #midnight mass #monsignor pruitt #ao3 #father paul hill #priest kink #slow burn #strangers to lovers #i wanna throw up #priest #father meow meow #first fanfic

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allexiaah · 3 years ago

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Hi OwO i am ur mysterious SS elf. Im coming to get some ideas or hcs of claudette from you. Specifically hcs u have abt her home life. Before the mean entitity 😡 i think i will be writing u a story but if u wanted art more. I can do that. Im not the best at drawing killers but i will try >//< if the story was centered around holiday themes. What kind of personal ideas do you have about claudette during the holidays? Sorry for so many questions now and probably later Q_Q

GOD I'm so sorry for taking so long to answer this anon!! I've been going through so much this past little while and this ask just completely slipped past me. I also needed to think about it a little bit! I really hope that I haven't hindered you at all with this. Christmas in particular isn't something I've thought a lot about for Claudette on her own, mostly just how Philip would react to his first Christmas post-realm and how Claudette helps with how overwhelming it is. I love the two of them so much haha. Feel free to send another ask if you change your mind or find a new topic, or just want any other hcs too!! I have so many it's kind of wild haha.

I definitely think for pre-realm, Claudette has a very loving family. She's an only child, but gets along really well with her parents. They all love each other so much. Her parents support her and reassure her when she's feeling unsure of herself, or anxious. Her mom is one of the people she's most comfortable to talking about her problems to. Keeping in line with lore, I think she would probably have a few friends, but few offline ones. I haven't thought much about it, so it's something I'll have to think about.

For Christmas hcs, I think Claudette feels like the best kind of hot chocolate has those little peppermint bits in them, and marshmallows are important too. It's just better with the mint in it to her.

She's a huge fan of just.. the whole atmosphere of Christmas, and loves giving gifts to the people she cares about. She likes being silly and carefree and while she isn't very fond of the texture of those stereotypical Christmas sweaters, I'm sure she's found something similar that's comfortable for her. Maybe has a hair pin that looks like holly. She loves how cozy it is inside, and warm, and the whole atmosphere of Christmas is just so nice to her. It wouldn't surprise me if she sung Christmas carols when she was younger. While not strictly a Christmas hc, (winter in Canada is like half the year, lol,) I definitely think that Claudette has to make at least one snowman before all the snow melts until next year... Or until September/October/November again lol. She has lots of time, because sometimes it can snow past April, even.

She's a huge sucker for little Christmas-themed candies. Chocolates, mints, caramel, you name it. She finds them cute! She won't eat enough to get sick of them, but they're a nice treat. I think her mom would make some sort of treat with her, but I'm not sure.

If you want post realm too, I think that not a lot would change!! Claudette would still be a huge gift giver, and overall be very cheery and glad to spend the season with her friends. Going out to the streets and storefronts and seeing all the glittering lights that illuminate the snow that falls past them? Immaculate. One of Claudette's favorite things to do. It just feels so magical, all those twinkling lights in so many colors shining on the snow and lighting up the dark streets. There's just something about it that is hopeful about it, to her. After the christmas season is new years, so it's almost like one last celebration of everything that she's survived, and how there's more good things on the horizon.

I think that she's not particularly religious, but has attended Christmas services at some church or other at some point, and kind of liked it. It had such a neat atmosphere. She really admired the stained glass windows and how peaceful the building felt.

Just a little misc hc, but I think Claudette really likes collecting plushies and stuffed animals. Christmas is no exception to this, it that springs up any ideas for you.

Again, so sorry for the wait anon!! I'm so very glad you came to ask me about these, and I'm hoping you see them. I might have more, and if I do, I'll probably edit or reblog this ask with them later. Recently I just haven't been at my best, and very occupied mentally. I really appreciate this. Tysm!! <3

#allex answers #dbd #dead by daylight #claudette morel #ask #anon #my stuff #headcanons

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curiousconch · 4 years ago

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Rose-colored Glass

Chapter 11 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: As winter began its rein in Boston, Heather finds a way to cope with her trauma, discovering the truth while remembering her past.

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song)

Words: 1.8k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / emotional trauma, death

Author's Notes: This week has been hard for me, and writing this chapter was unimaginably difficult because of it. Thankfully, like Heather, I found a way to cope, and people to help me get through with it. So instead of moping around, I finished this, inspired by the hauntingly beautiful classic song La Vie En Rose (I listened to this particular version on repeat). So, this is for you Nina, rest well in heaven.

Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song. I also do not claim ownership over the lyrics of La Vie en Rose embedded in this chapter.

Heather's discharge went smoothly, contrary to the time she spent in recovery. Her friends needed to stay behind to complete their shifts, and although Kyra offered to take her home, she refused. She needed to do something first. Heather did agree to let her bring her things back to the apartment, with one exception.

Her slimmed fingers tightly gripped on the straps of the small bag she was carrying. The sunglasses she brought along tucked on the collar of her salmon sweater, not needing it anymore due to the cluster of clouds that blocked out the sun. Although it was almost noon, the chilly weather provided some semblance of shade as the heels of her boots thumped softly against the soft white snow-covered ground.

Her gray coat was sprinkled small flakes of snow, as she navigated herself easily amongst the unmarked path, that if a spectator observed, they would readily know that she visited this place often.

Heather's steps halted as she neared a willow tree, standing in front of a moss-colored headstone, aged by the almost seven years of Boston rain.

Despite the gloom of her surroundings, Heather's lips curled into a smile, as she kneeled down to gently place the bouquet of pink roses she bought along the way.

"Hi mom," she said, as the tips of her fingers skimmed the name carved in stone. "I'm sorry it took me so long to visit again. Things have been a little rough."

She went still for a moment, relishing the poignant silence in remembrance.

More than her ambition of being trained by America's top diagnostician, this was the reason why she chose Edenbrook. To be near her, to be in her mother's home city, it somehow filled the emptiness of missing her so much. To walk on the same pavements, to spend time in the same parks and places she's been to brought Heather nothing but the strength and determination to make something out of her once miserable life. Whenever she doubted herself, or when she was about to give up, the thought of her mom fighting a sickness no one should endure, gave Heather the much needed relief and energy to get back up again.

And that's the reason she stood there that cold winter morning. She needed her mom to come through her once again.

Heather closed her eyes momentarily, letting the rush of the nauseating trauma of the past few weeks resurface. Her whole being has run out dry, weakening her knees. She just felt so numb inside.

So without inhibitions, she recalled the recent events that turned her life upside down. She told about the threats over her life, and how close she was to her own death. She spoke about Raf and their recent fallout, how heartbreaking it was but relieving at the same time. She brought up Bryce last.

"This man, mom... I can't even begin to explain how I feel about him," Heather said as she rubbed a hand over her temple. "There's something about him that I just couldn't describe. It's been there since I've first met him, and it's still here until now..."

Her head dropped low in between her shoulders, as she remembered with fondness the emotions that Bryce stirred within her the first time they met, leading up to their frustrating confrontation. Heather irked as the thought of her failure came.

"But somehow, I messed it up. I picked someone else, because I was too afraid..." she revealed. She knew what she felt around him, but did her best to bury it. "Although I often wondered of what we could be, or what we could have been, the deep-seated fears of heartbreak, of what you and dad went through... I just couldn't act on it." she admitted.

"Yet when I was faced with the choice between life or death, all I had was his words, no one else's," she paused, recalling how she soldiered on towards her own escape, empowered by the same declaration during their day out in the trampolines.

"But now I'm afraid I'm too late, mom. I may have missed out on something great... Your daughter is a coward," she bit her lip, her eyes glistening. "Am I really too late?"

The question felt like a cliffhanger, never to be answered.

Sighing deeply, she collected her remaining energy to unzip the small bag she brought with her. She wrapped her hands around the neck of the instrument, pulling out a mahogany-stained ukelele. It was the last gift that she received from her mom, the very same she used to play her songs during their rare downtime.

She tucked its body between her arm and chest, as she tightened its strings with the tuners. With one satisfied strum, she began to sing the song that she and her mom always sang during the roughest period of their lives.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is la vie en rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs,

And though I close my eyes

I see la vie en rose

In a rush, those simple words tingled her sensations in reminiscence from flashes of her adolescence - the late night talks, the bonding over ramen noodles, her alcoholic initiation by soju, those times that they saw a movie together, the smell of pancakes and eggs in the morning.

In the few short years they were given, Heather treasured each memory more than anything in her life. Even the tragedy of watching her mom deteriorate because of her sickness, of those last months spent in a cramped hospital ward, she wouldn't trade it even for a pot of gold. Though in pain, her mother would whisper promises that she'll always be there for her, no matter what. Until her last breath, she held her daughter's hand. Those were priceless, shared souvenirs of a life well-lived. Of a life Heather hoped she could lead.

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart, a world where roses bloom

And when you speak, angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La vie en rose

Within those short verses contained the life lesson her mom taught her over and over again - to see life through rose colored glasses. Singing it reminded her that even if she was long gone, the memory of her will be embedded within, whispering that no matter what, there's a reason to continue living.

Smiling through her tears, her head tilted up to the heavens, praying that the divine could carry her thanks to her mom. For once again, in the most difficult time of her life, she did follow through.

As a sense of peace weaved itself through her, she opened her eyes and felt the clouds dissipate. With it were the frayed edges of the shadows of fear, regret and anger. And although she knew that it will still haunt her, she was content that healing has at least begun.

After a few more moments of silence, she placed the ukelele back into the bag and glanced endearingly upon the headstone. She skimmed her fingers over her mother's name, vowing to come back soon.

She swiveled herself to the opposite direction and began the path back to the cemetery gates, when her hazel orbs fell upon a pair of familiar leather shoes and gray slacks, making her stop in her tracks.

When she titled her head to see the face she expected to see, a pair of amber eyes met hers that made her breath hitch. They were filled with warmth and affection that heated the cold air and melted her inside.

"You're not too late," Bryce finally said, breaking into the quiet. His mouth formed a lopsided smile, his hands shoved into the pockets of his black coat which edges reached to his knees.

"Seems like it," Heather replied, snapping out of the daze that suddenly came over her, lips curving. "Wait, you heard everything?"

Bryce couldn't stifle a chuckle as he nodded, the adrenaline that rushed through him earlier as he tried to track her down slowly draining from him. A new and overwhelming feeling took its place as he planted the soles of his shoes on the soft snow, bridging the gap between them.

Once he was near enough, he gently wrapped an arm around Heather's waist, pulling her close. The knuckles of his other hand brushed her jawline until his thumb grazed her chin. His gaze lingered down on hers, completely magnetized by the depths of the windows of her soul, begging for her consent.

Heather's palms settled onto the nape of his neck, her lips parting to grant him permission.

In a heartbeat, Bryce tenderly pressed his lips upon hers, releasing the long-running yearning they buried so well. Unspoken words no longer need to be said aloud, clarity dawning in them both as their mouths crashed. Soft moans escaped from them as they deepened their passionate kiss, unrestrained in expressing their newfound freedom.

When at last they stopped to catch their breaths, Bryce leaned his forehead on hers, understanding that his unrequited love was never unanswered, only delayed. That after a year of pining, here she was, standing in front of him, a realization of a dream that for so many times he willed to come true. After all the nights of hoping and hurting, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the sight of her in his arms. A thought poked into his mind as he started to recall where they were.

"Well this is awkward..." the young lawyer muttered, with a sudden shift in his voice.

"Hm?" Heather's eyes snapped open, dumbfounded.

"I know I always wanted to kiss you," he grinned as he paused, before continuing, "but never in a million years did I think that the first time I did is in front of your mom."

At first her brows furrowed, but seeing Bryce's mischievous expression, Heather couldn't keep herself from laughing.

Inspired by the music of her genuine laughter, Bryce joined in. The sound of their giggles echoing through the poignant space around them.

Heather can't remember the last time when she laughed this hard. There were so many things that hung over her head that she almost forgot how to do it. But with Bryce, it came so easily. A sense of joy began to bloom in her, and when she saw the same glint in his eyes, she knew he felt exactly the same.

With their fingers intertwined and arms around each other's, they walked the path that only earlier they trudged separately. And now with their hearts finally out in the open, their tracks carved into the thin sheet of snow, unveiling the lush greens of the grass hidden beneath, eager to leaving what's behind, together.

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#open heart #bryce lahela #open heart 2 #choices fanfiction #open heart fanfiction #bryce lahela x mc #fics of the week #choices fic writers creations #bryce x mc

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crutchie-with-a-y · 4 years ago

Note

hey yo i love your stuff so much, i really liked your sarah and jack stuff, so i was wondering if you could do a modern one?? super angsty lol i'm in a mood

Thank You for the request, I’m so happy you like my writing! This isn’t as angsty as I would like, but I wanted to get you a response ASAP! Hope you enjoy!

Jack Kelly hadn't slept in two days. He didn't mean to, it just sort of happened. The first night he'd stayed up watching Disney movies with his girlfriend Sarah. The second night, well, he'd just been too stressed to sleep. Sarah had left his house slightly annoyed with him after he accidentally spilled a cup of coffee on her sweater. It was the pink one with Ms. Piggy on it, her favorite. And she didn't leave because of the dark brown stain, she was already getting ready to leave anyway, she had to go home and get her uniform for work in a few hours. She didn't actually seem that upset over it anyway. Or maybe she did? No, if she was she would have told him. Sarah was always so good at communicating. But maybe he made her really, REALLY mad, and she was too considerate to go off on him. But she could probably get the stain out anyway why would she be that mad? Either way, Jack Kelly had been overthinking the situation for the past 24 hours because of the exchange they'd had while she was leaving.

"Call me when you're off work, maybe I can get you pizza or something to make up for the sweater?" Jack had said, holding open the door for her.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Sarah had sighed as she stepped out the door.

But she had never called. And when Jack called her two hours after the latest she'd ever worked, she didn't pick up. And when she didn't respond for three more hours, Jack had called again, apologizing profusely. No response. He had texted a few times. Nothing. At about two am, Jack had tossed his phone behind the couch and given up, turning on the news and picking up his sketch pad. It was about 6 am, and a detailed portrait of Sarah giggling adorably in her Ms. Piggy sweater had found its way onto his page. He'd drawn it from memory, the image of her leaning against him with that cute smile on her face as Olaf sang about getting gorgeously tan in summer. He smiled at it, even in smudged granite, she was so pretty. And so mad at him, he thought, his eyes falling to Ms. Piggy's face on her sweater. God, how could he be so stupid? He let his forehead fall forward, resting against the paper with a sigh.

"JACK! JACK OPEN THE DOOR!" Jack woke up to a pounding at his door three hours later. He shot up. Sarah?

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JACK GET OFF YOUR MOODY BULLSHIT AND OPEN UP!" Nope, Katherine. He scrambled towards the door, wondering what the cause was of such alarm. He pulled it open to see Katherine and Elmer staring at him with frantic looks.

"Why the FUCK haven't you responded to any of our messages?'" Katherine stuck her face in his.

"We've been trying to reach you for hours!" Elmer shook his phone in the air.

"I haven't been on my phone-"

"Ohhhh, he hasn't been on his phooooone." Katherine rolled his eyes.

"Kath, shut up," Elmer said and turned back to Jack. "C'mon, bro, we gotta go."

"Go? Go where?" Jack had dashed back into his living room to retrieve his phone.

"The hospital! Let's go." Katherine waved him back towards them. Jack froze.

"The hospital? W-why would we go there?" Katherine and Elmer looked at each other before turning back to him with a softer look. He felt his stomach drop.

"Jack," Elmer said. "Sarah was in a car accident last night."

"Oh my god, oh my god." Jack was aggressively swiping through his missed messages, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Jack it's going to be okay, the lady from the hospital said-"

"I don't CARE what the lady from the hospital said," Jack interrupted Katherine as they sped towards the hospital in her car. "My girlfriend was in a CAR ACCIDENT and I couldn't even be bothered to pick up my phone! Oh my god."

"Jack, it's alright, she's going to be okay." Elmer turned around in the passenger seat to try and calm him down.

"And why haven't you two been to see her?" Jack lashed out, upset at everything and everyone.

"We were on a road trip to Scarsdale visiting Katherine's Aunt when we got the call, four hours away. They said you were listed as her emergency contact but they couldn't reach you." Elmer's response only upset Jack even more, and he clenched his head in his hands as hot tears fell down his face.

"Jack, it's okay," Katherine looked at him in the review mirror as she turned the steering wheel. "We're here." Jack shot out of the car before Katherine could pull into a parking spot, almost getting hit by a gray sedan in the process. The car honked loudly, but he kept running, speeding through the revolving doors and up to the front desk as fast as his legs could take him. He didn't slow down fast enough, slamming into the front edge of the desk.

"I need the room of a...Sarah Jacobs," Jack said, holding his stomach as he tried to catch his breath. A middle-aged man with a black beard and thick-framed glasses looked up at him and then down at his computer.

"Uhhh, Yes, Ms. Jacob's in room 47, right down that way," The man pointed to his left. "May I ask who is visiting?"

"Jack Kelly," Jack said, pushing off the desk in the direction the man had pointed.

"Wait, you'll need this!" Jack turned around as the man tossed him a laminated visitor's pass on a bright yellow lanyard.

"Thanks," Jack pulled it over his neck as he sprinted back down the hall, narrowly avoiding nurses pushing carts and other visitors. "Forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-" Jack stumbled backward in shock as he reached his girlfriend's room, tears brimming again in his eyes. Hanging on the door handle on a hangar with a plastic cover over it was the Ms. Piggy sweatshirt. And covering the coffee was a dark red bloodstain.

Right when Jack thought he would pass out, the door swung open as a nurse exited the room, laughing to someone over her shoulder. She turned her head and smiled warmly when she saw him.

"Oh! Are you Mr. Kelly?"

"Jack!" From behind her, a voice called Jack back down to earth. Jack darted past the nurse and into the room.

Sarah lay propped up in a bed against bright white pillows and bright white sheets. Her right leg was in a cast and a black brace gripped her hand. Her hospital gown drooped slightly off her shoulder to show a strip of gauze in the center of her chest.

"Jack! Jack, where were you? I was so w-" Jack walked right up to her bedside and delicately but passionately kissed her, cutting her off.

"I'm so sorry," He said softly, rubbing a cut he had noticed on her lip. "Are you alright?"

"Ah, yes, mmhmm," Sarah blinked. "Yeah, I'm fine. But what the hell happened to you? The nurse said you hadn't answered any calls. "

"Well, I-" Jack looked at his feet. He was embarrassed. And Sarah could tell.

"What?" She squinted at him with a smirk.

"I just, ah," He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. "You didn't call me or respond to any of my messages, so I figured you were still mad."

"Mad? What would I be mad about?" Sarah tried to remember the day before, and suddenly she raised her eyebrows at me. "No, Jack. I know you didn't..."

"I don't know, it was your favorite-"

"Oh for fucks sake, Jack."

"It was a really big stain!"

"Do you hear yourself?" Sarah laughed exasperatedly. "You are trying to justify to me why I would be mad at you for something as stupid as spilling coffee on my sweater." Jack scrunched up his nose.

"Well, when you put it like that...."

"It's quite dumb, correct." She crossed her arms and huffed dramatically. They stared at each other for a minute before bursting out in loud, silly laughter.

"Can I get you a new sweater?" Jack chuckled as he pulled Sarah into his chest, who giggled as she nodded. And there, at that moment, she looked exactly how he had pictured her in her sweater watching Frozen. Exactly as he had drawn her. "And until Amazon delivers that sweater," Jack pulled back and reached into his pocket, pulling out a piece of paper, "I hope this can make up for it." He handed Sarah the sketch and she marveled at it, the intense detail, shading, and, of course, how realistic of a Ms. Piggy he had a drawn. She looked back at him.

"Only if you at least attempt to stop overthinking everything." Jack grinned at her.

"Deal," He said, leaning down and pressing a loving kiss onto her lips.

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ambroseblack · 5 years ago

Text

In continuation of my improvised story/ first attempt at something horror-paranormally, here is chapter 2 to whisper. If you haven't read the first chapter, you can read it here now!

Stay spooky beloved friends!

Love and Peace,

Ambrose

Chapter 2: Daylight

I woke up with my face nearly glued to the wooden table in the dining room. I apparently had a fair amount of liquid in my body at one time, being that my face was surrounded by a pool of drool and sweat. My mouth was terribly dry, making my tongue feel like a cat's, as I licked my lips with no apparent gratification.

The soft gray light of a rainy fall morning drifted through the half-open burgundy curtains that the previous owner had left on the main floor. They were much nicer than anything I would have bought. I would have been happy with some sheets to be honest. But they did give the large house a touch of grandeur. It was fitting, being that the house was so old and well maintained. A museum of sorts. Walking through the front door was like walking into a different time.

The soft tapping of pouring rain echoed throughout the house. I always found the sound to be soothing. It was a sound I had missed in my apartment in the city. It reminded me of rainy days when I was a kid. The kind of days where one is at peace just laying in bed thinking, as the cool water pours down around the world outside.

I looked at the laptop that was resting untouched in front of me. The screen was still up at attention, but black from not being used.

I must have dreamed everything. The shadow. The whisper.

I chuckled to myself as I stood up from my seat to go make coffee in the kitchen. My knees ached quietly. They probably just hurt from being bent all night long. At least, that is what I told myself. It's always far easier to write off the truly unexplained. We are always happy remaining ignorant.

I slowly trudged into the kitchen. My crocs quietly squeaked on the tile floors. They were horribly ugly things to have on your feet, but goddam...they were comfortable. Besides, I was a writer. I had nobody to impress.

I grabbed the tarnished silver teapot that sat on the stove and filled it with cold water from the tap. The teapot, just like the drapery in the house, had been left by the previous owner. In fact, there were a lot of remnants left behind. A large grandfather clock that rang out in the most frightening of ways. An old, apparently never touched couch in the front room. A baby grand piano in the foyer with worn keys. I felt like I was living in someone else's house, being that I had barely unpacked any of my own belongings. I kind of liked it, to be honest. It was like I had stepped into the story where another left off. Or died off...I had no idea. Who really cares?

I placed the teapot on the stove and lit the burner. Bright blue flames licked the bottom of the silver, slowly tickling the water held within. I fumbled through the cabinets looking for the coffee and french press. I had still not really organized the cabinets, so I would always find things in different places each day. At last I found my treasures next to a half-eaten box of frosted flakes. The box itself wasn't eaten, however the cereal inside was. Next to the box was a gallon of milk that I must have put in there by mistake. What can I say...I enjoy frosted flakes after indulging in some fabulous things. The kind of things that open your mind up to be able to do things like write. For all you know, I'm eating frosted flakes right now as I type these words. You don't fucking know. I mean, I'm not. But I could be.

I unscrewed the cap to the milk and took a faint whiff to see if it had gone sour. It was fairly decent. Could have been worst. I took a nearly-clean bowl out of the sink, poured some of the thickening milk into into it, and sprinkled some of the flaked cereal into it. I thought about finding a spoon, but who needs a spoon when you really don't give a shit. I would slurp it like the animal I was.

The teapot began to whistle its horrible song as steam spewed out of the spout like a stoner exhaling at a Phish concert. I scooped some coffee grounds out of the bag with my hand and poured their fragrant particles into the french press. I used to use a coffee pot like a normal person, but once I found the french press I never looked back. Very honestly, it's a completely different coffee experience. Like the difference between having sex when you are a teenager versus sex when you have an understanding of what the clitoris is. Or prostate. Whatever tickles your fancy, really. Like mind-blowingly different. I'm not sure "blowingly" is an actual word, but I guess it is now. Never mind...it is...I just googled it. Feel free to use it.

The smell of coffee began to fill the kitchen immediately after I poured the steaming water into the glass beaker. The smell brightened the gloom of the gray filtering in through the windows from the outside. I was beginning to feel better. The nightmare was slowly slipping away from my thoughts.

<<<:>>>

I half-hazardly carried the bowl of soggy cereal and the mug of piping hot black coffee into the dining room. Splashes of both semi-cold milk and scalding liquid both found their way onto the flesh of my hands. On one hand, it hurt. On the other, it didn't. Pain and indifference, really. The joys of life.

I sat down at the table and coaxed my laptop to wake up with a gentle touch to its mouse pad. I nearly spit out the mouthful of cereal I had just poured into my mouth from the bowl when I read what was typed in bold capitals on the shit story I was working on. There, in the middle of the screen of the electronic page were two words.

KEEP WRITING

"Fuck man..." I quietly said out loud to myself. Even though I convinced myself I must have just written that as a message to myself in my sleepy/high state the night prior, it still gave me chills. I thought back to the dream. The sharp whisper I had heard. There it was again; that unsettled feeling in the bottom of my stomach. But that too could be explained away by the half-spoiled milk I was consuming.

I had to get out of that house for a little while. I felt like I had given myself cabin fever.

<<<:>>>

I found my old black boots by the front door and rummaged through a box to find my long black rain coat that was still packed away. I opened the large oak door that squealed when moved and was smacked in the face with a brisk wind. Deciding that I needed to re-think my outfit (which included dirty sweatpants, a faded Tenacious D t-shirt, the boots, and the coat), I made my way up the wooden staircase to find an outfit better suited for the elements. I had also worn the same sweats and t-shirt for over a week... if not, longer. Thinking about it, I had not really left the house for probably two weeks. That is just sort of my brand of a writing lifestyle I guess. Disgusting? Absolutely. But it bought the house and the things I needed just the same.

I pulled a tattered black sweater over my head and over the Tenacious D t-shirt. The fabric of the sweater was stretched in odd places, but it was comfortable and warm. I pulled off the stinking black sweat pants as well as the crispy boxers. I thought for a moment about showering and then decided against it. What good was deodorant if it couldn't cover up the smell of filth? Besides, the cigarette I planned to smoke when I got out on the porch would provide a strong enough fragrant blanket to cover up the sweaty ass smell. And if it didn't...so be it.

After completing my outfit with a fresh pair of boxers, stained jeans, thick wool socks, long striped gray scarf, and an olive-green knit hat, I was ready to be off on my way to do whatever I was going to do. I didn't really have a plan. Maybe a walk to the tiny downtown. Anything that would get me out of the house. I couldn't bring myself to really care.

As I turned to leave the enormous bedroom my eyesight caught something on the wall just above the headboard. There, on the white wall it looked like a symbol was leaking through the paint. You know how when your paint a lighter color over a darker color and sometimes it kind of comes through? It's always faint, yet always noticeable.

It was hard to see, but it definitely wasn't my imagination. A red symbol shaped like an eye was coming out of the white. Just enough to be seen by me at that moment despite the depressing light filtering in through the wall of windows.

I felt myself want to approach the wall to examine the symbol more, but found myself caught by a momentary feeling of fear and hesitation again. I couldn't stand there any longer and ponder its meaning. I had to fucking get out that house just for a little bit of time. It wouldn't take long for me to recharge.

Get out of the house.

I nearly tripped down the staircase as I feverishly fumbled to slip on my coat to get out of that prison-like space. I yanked open the heavy oak door with haste and nearly let out a scream as I found myself face to face with a tiny old woman. She let out startled gasp at my rapid presence. She was standing on my porch nearly lost within a bundle of winter coat and scarf. She had a plastic bag over her hair which I found both funny and alarming. I assumed it was to keep her hair dry. Or, at least I hoped.

"I am so sorry for startling you honey," the woman said with a sweetly calm voice.

"Uh...yeah...likewise..." I said in an almost whisper. I was internally trying to convince my heart to stop beating itself to death.

"My name is Emma," the woman said with a smile, "I live just across the street." She pointed to the historic home directly across from my house. It was in pristine condition. The beam across the woman's face as well as the intricately manicured landscape across the front of her yard revealed that she was proud of her dwelling. "I've lived there over 50 years. My husband and I..."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Ambrose," I said, cutting her off. I said it in a pleasant tone, but I secretly wished she wasn't there. I needed to get the hell away from that space. For the love of God, I silently thought, shut the fuck up...

"Oh Ambrose, what a pretty name..." Emma said with a smile.

"I thought so too when I picked it out..." I said. Annoyance peeked through the pleasantry of my tone. I needed to work on conversation and people skills. My response obviously confused the woman. She didn't know Ambrose wasn't my real name. How would she? And I wasn't about to explain how I was a writer who came up with some bullshit of a name to write under. It was far more humorous to watch her try to work it out in her head how I had named myself when I was a baby.

"I hate to rush you," I said while coaxing myself out of the door and onto the large porch, "but I'm running a bit late for an...an appointment. Big client. You know...things to do and places to be."

The woman's smile faltered for a second and then found itself back; stretched across her face as if hiding a grimace.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey. I won't be keeping you," she said while patting my hand with her pink gloved hand. " I just wanted to pop on over and introduce myself real quick. I figured you have been here long enough to settle in. I didn't want to come over prematurely...didn't want you to think you were being watched or anything...."

The way she said "watched" was horrifying, because what she really was saying was that she had been watching me. Lonely old hag just watching the new guy. Trying to spy and see what he was up to. Nosy bitch.

I faked a smile.

"Well, it was great to meet you Emma. Thank you for stopping by. Maybe one day soon we can sit down for some coffee or something. It would be great to chat with you...I'm sure you have a lot of stories of this town that I would absolutely love to hear!" I lied.

"Oh of course, of course sweetie!" She said with that same forced smile and overly sweet tone. "I brought you a little house warming gift...nothing big...just something I think everyone needs..." Emma reached inside her cartoonishly large flower-print purse and pulled out a neatly wrapped gift. It was complete with a large pink bow on top. Fucking gag.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that," I said, faking surprise and gratitude. I know she was being nice and all, but something just felt off. Like when a dog growls at one person but not the next.

"Oh, it's nothing my dear. I just hope you get some use out of it," the old woman said, handing the wrapped gift over to me. Immediately when my hands held the package I could tell it was a book. A fairly large one. My curiosity was momentarily tickled as I pondered what book it could be.

And with that, the woman was off. Not in a speedy way. She was old as shit. But at least she was making her way off my porch to leave me in peace. Wrapped book still in hand, I pulled a cigarette out of the pack that was nestled in an interior breast pocket of my rain coat that I had found earlier. I lit it with the tiny green bic that I kept in the mailbox attached to the brick by the front door. I breathed in that familiar smoke. The smoke that reminded me I was alive, even if I sometimes wished I wasn't.

I looked at the gift Emma had given me in my hand. The paper wrapped around was perfectly pressed and folded. It was a print of lavender bunches, all repeated over and over. The bow wrapped around it had been painstakingly tied. Almost too perfect. Like something a robot would do.

I exhaled a puff of smoke through my nose as I fumbled to untie the artwork. I couldn't see her, but I imagined the old woman was watching me through one of the windows of her house. I imagined her beady little eyes watching my every move. Just the thought made me shudder a little, despite the warmth of my attire.

And then there it was.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." I said out loud to the rainy world around me as I realized what the gift was. "A fucking bible?"

Yep. A bible. And not like the little orange ones the weirdos try to force in your hands at festivals. No, it was a big-ass one bound in soft brown leather. It seemed to be fairly new; the pages still stiff. I opened the front cover and found a note perfectly written in black ink on the first blank page. The letters were scripted in cursive; beautiful calligraphy etched on the paper.

The Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.

2 Thessalonians 3:3

My heart skipped a beat when I read "evil one". Those two words were written thicker than all of the other words, making them bounce off the page and into my face.

"What....the actual FUCK!?" I whispered in horror out loud to myself.

The rain continued to pour as I stood on my porch with the half-smoked cigarette hanging out my mouth and leather-bound bible in my hand.

Maybe moving there wasn't the right decision after all.

#prose #writers #writers on tumblr #spilled words #literature #my writing #short fiction #short story #horror #thriller #paranormal #halloween #all hallows eve #improvisation #demon #detroit

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mysteriouswritingzonthewall · 6 years ago

Text

Diamond in the Rough [N.L.]

Requested: yes

Request: "For the writing prompts, could you do number 1 with Neville Longbottom please?"

1: "Never, ever come near me again."

Ship: Neville Longbottom x reader

Words: 1k+

Summary: Neville helps Y/N realise what kind of trouble their "best friend" can cause.

Warning[s]: cursing, angst, sad Draco

A/N: Y/N is a Gryffindor for this. Sorry if you're not a Gryffindor.

Your name: submit What is this?

~~~~~~~

Neville watched from afar as his friend, Y/N, walked to herbology with Draco, the Slytherin King. Neville had his eye on Y/N since second year, although he knew he'd never have a chance. There's always been that tiny bit of hope in his chest that maybe he'd have a chance, just maybe.

Y/N and Neville were good friends, of course. Y/N was one of the only people to really pay attention to him and actually listen to what he had to say. They actually listened to him when he went on his Herobology rants or when he was talking about how he had gotten pushed around that day. Y/N was very easy to talk to, in his opinion. They tried to be as sweet as possible to Neville, especially when they showed him muggle gadgets.

"Watch it, Longbottom!" Draco hissed, as Neville accidentally bumped into him.

"S-Sorry," Neville tried to walk off toward their Herbology class, before he heard Y/N.

"Don't be such a prick, Draco! Neville, you okay?" Y/N asked, voice soft as to not scare him off.

"Y-Yeah, I'm alright," Neville stuttered, staring at his shoes, "D-Don't w-worry about me. I-I'll see you later, Y/N."

Neville scurried off before Y/N or Draco could get a word in and walked into the Herbology classroom frantic. Neville sat down rather violently, being the first one there except for Hermione.

"Are you okay, Neville?"

He nodded quietly, Hermione knowing well it was Y/N or Draco that had him in a panic. A few minutes of silence and students pouring in passed before Hermione broke the silence.

"You should just ask them out. They'll say yes!" She squealed.

"Don't believe so but thank you for the encouragement, Hermione..." At this point, students started to pile in, Neville sitting in his usual spot in the front when the last students scurried in, Y/N being one of them. As Y/N took their usual seat next to Neville, Professor Sprout began to speak.

It was something Neville had learned over three months ago, when he had taken a Herbology book out of the library he, surprisingly, hadn't read. Y/N had helped him find it one night, when he had found Harry in a corner, piles of books taller than him around Harry.

"Hey Harry, have you seen-"

"Not now, Neville, I'm a bit busy, mate."

"No problem, see you later."

Wonderful. He thought to himself. He wondered the library for what seemed to be about an hour in the Herbology section, not finding anything that took his interest. Then something caught his attention. It was Y/N, sitting across the library with the exact book he had been looking for for months. It had always seemed to be taken out when he took the time to try to find it and pick it up.

Y/N usually had a book by Newt Scamander or a muggle ficiton story by their side, not something like a Herbology book. Perhaps they were studying for the upcoming test? Neville walked over to Y/N, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable conversation.

"H-Hello, Y/N," Neville stuttered, voice shaking. He had always been nervous around Y/N, so this wasn't an uncommon sight for them, even during their many different conversations through the day.

"Hello, Neville!" Y/N smiled, leaving Neville's heart to melt, "I'm guessing this is the book you've been looking for?"

"Y-Yes, actually, so when you're done just let me know-"

"Here," Y/N stood up, handing the book to Neville, who took it hesitantly, "I knew you were looking for this book. I just wanted to see why you wanted it so badly."

"A-Are you sure?"

"Of course, I actually was reading that book so I could bond with you, if I am being completely honest..."

Neville was extracted from his flashback by the bell ringing, alerting him it was time for his next subject. He had passed Y/N and Draco, deciding it would be best not to make any mistakes in front of either of them. But, of course, Draco decided to make those mistakes for him. Draco tripped Neville, making sure his bag had hit the ground, leaving a few ink bottles to shatter and leak. Draco put his arm around Y/N and laughed while everyone else in the hallway at the time joined. Y/N threw Draco's arm off of them and rushed to help Neville.

"I am so sorry, Neville, H-He seriously doesn't know how to control himself..." Y/N picked up an ink bottle, soaking their hands in ink while Neville picked up the books that had fallen out of his bag.

"It's okay, Y/N, I'm used to it," Neville continued to clean up the mess Draco had caused, Y/N started at Neville for a bit. Noticing how his eyes shown in the sunlight from the windows and how he fidgeted slightly when he was figuring out what book to pick up and how and how his hair curled slightly in certain places. Noticing how much of a real friend he was compared to Draco. Realising that they had a gem in front of them when they had a piece of charcoal most of the time.

"You just helped me realise something, Neville..."

"What's that?" Neville turned his head, slightly confused.

Y/N stood up, ink still covering and dripping from their hands, full ink bottle in one hand, waking toward Draco. Draco turned and Y/N dumped the bottle of ink in Draco's platinum hair and continued to wipe the rest on his face and very expensive clothing.

"Y/N! What the hell-"

"I'm done with you and the way you treat people, Not just Neville. I'm never talking to you again."

"Y/N!" Draco went to grab for Y/N's hand, but they quickly pulled away.

"Never, ever come near me again." Y/N helped Neville the rest of the way and walked away from the scene with him, like they would for the rest of their school life. This time, in silence.

"You shouldn't have done that, Y/N..." Neville said suddenly, making them jump.

"No, I should've done that a while ago. You helped me realise what a real friend is. What really liking someone is like." Y/N confessed, not wanting to scare him off, "I really like you, Nev. You helped me realise what a prick Draco really is..."

Neville covered his hands with the sleeves of his sweater, blushing profusely at Y/N's statement.

"You like me? L-Like like me? Or friend like me? I'm sorry, I-I tend to overthink-"

"Both..." Y/N stopped suddenly, causing Neville to stop and stand in front of them. Silence filled the hall, both of them knowing damn well their class started 5 minutes ago. Neville stepped closer to Y/N, taking their sleeves due to the ink still covering their hands.

"I-I like you, too, Y/N..." Neville stepped slightly closer, causing Y/N to look up at him. Damn, he was tall...

"You mean that?"

"Of course I do..."

Both of them stayed in silence, wondering what their next move would be. Y/N suddenly hugged Neville, having to jump up slightly to reach around his neck. Neville hugged back quickly, leaning down slightly to make it easier for Y/N to continue holding onto him. When they finally let go of each other, Neville asked a question he never thought he'd ask in his life.

"Would you...Would you like to go on a date with me?"

Y/N nodded shyly, both of them walking to who knows where. They had each other now, they were still processing what had actually happened.

"We should probably get you back to the common room to clean you up," Neville motioned to Y/N's ink stained arms and they both started to laugh.

#harry potter #neville longbottom #harry potter fandom #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter oneshot #neville longbottom oneshot

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tin-can-iron-man · 7 years ago

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A prompt for you: Tony gets separated from the team and injured on a mission and his suit gets damaged, so he starts to wonder if and when the team might find him since he can't get out on his own. (Sorry, I love reading angst with my favorite characters >.> I'm a masochist like that)

Anthony stark was cold.

It wasn’t a normal kind of cold however, it was a cold he only felt occasionally, a kind of cold that made him want to scream and fight, but made him also want to close his eyes and accept it with open arms.

He knew what this was. It was how he felt when he woke up on that operating table in Afghanistan, with another mans very steady hands stuck in his chest. It was how he felt when he had carried the nuke into space, fully aware that it’s vast darkness could very well be where his body was to be lost for eternity. It was how he felt when he hit the ground afterwards and as much as he tried to will himself to move, couldn’t get back up until something, a scream of pure rage, jump-started his heart. It was how he felt falling under the waves of his home, his home that had just been obliterated by terrorists.

This was the cold Anthony Stark always felt when he knew he was going to die.

The cold he had felt too many damn times for it to be “a miracle” anymore.

He guessed that’s why they started calling him invincible.

The Invincible Iron Man.

But he knew how truly vulnerable he was. And apparently so did his foe this time around.

He had no idea that there was such a weak spot in his armor. He thought he would have been fine getting shot at while shoving a much more not-bulletproof Clint out of the way. But he wasn’t, they had somehow managed to hit a weak spot in his armor, penetrating the defenses and harming tony dearly. While also cutting off the power and connection for him to move, and he fell. He fell into the rocks and rubble of the street down below. Even the armor audio had cut out.

Nobody could even hear him scream.

he could feel the bullet jostling around in his body, the only other part of him that wasn’t entrapped in the frigid cold. The burning hot sensation of his blood gushing out, and staining the inside of his suit and clothes dark red.

He thought for a moment of just accepting it, like he had been tempted all those other times as well. He could die, and his friends would mourn, but they would get over it, and find someone else, someone stronger and better, and maybe even smarter to replace him. probably.

He thought of accepting to to finally be released from his pain. The bullets pain of course. But also the pain of carrying all of his emotions on the inside, it’s not like he wanted to. He just…didn’t know how. How to open up, embrace people into his life in a clear and honest level. The only time he had ever managed was with Rhodey, and he didn’t know how it did it.

The pain of finally realizing what he had been born to do, what had been breed and carved into his blood, and beaten over and over again and forged like a lump of metal into a shining sword. Only to discover that the sword was double edged. And killing those he had hoped to protect.

The pain of carrying the arc reactor inside his chest, reminding him of the months he spend in the caves of Afghanistan. The pain of watching the man who saved his life die for him, Tony promising him to be a better man.

He hoped he had kept his promise.

He could feel the world slow around him, every action and movement took a great deal of effort, even breathing. He was sure the bullet had punctured a lung.

Tony Stark felt the numbness and disconnection of death.

He wondered if anyone would miss him.

Probably not.

He heard the faint yelling. Shouting, harsh words he couldn’t understand.

He felt himself start to move. He struggled to do anything, even breathing had become an intense effort. And he could hear the faint and pathetic noises he was making. And someone whispering sharply into his ears.

“…with me, Stark”

Stay with me Stark.

Obie.

NO no, not Stane, anyone but Stane, no please god–it had to be Stane.

It was this moment, for the first time in his life, Tony Stark had ever accepted the idea of an afterlife. Of Heaven and Hell.

And he knew where he was going. It’s not like he expected anything else anyway.

Hell was probably too good for him.

A jolting pain shot through him, shocking him, it was Tony last line of defense against death, he had added a defibrillator into a part of the arc reactors design, he had forgotten all about that. He could feel just the slightest bit of energy come back into his body.

With great effort, he slit open his eyes.

He could see the Iron Man suit ripped to shreds not too far away. Blood pooling around the suit.

He watched as he was dragged away from the armor.

Dragged away from his body.

He felt himself being taken in by the darkness.

He couldn’t fight it anymore.

He died.

…………………..

Tony Stark opened his eyes in a bright white room.

Someone next to him jolted up and started shouting immediately.

The voice sounded like….Bruce?

For the next few hours, people with blurry faces kept coming and going. But one stayed. He wasn’t sure who it was, he couldn’t see them very well. But it couldn’t have been Bruce. No way in Hell did the Hulk manage to die.

This was a trick, to let down Tony’s guard.

This was Hell.

Tony wished he could scream.

But instead he fell back into an uncomfortable sleep.

………………….

Tony Stark opened his eyes once again in the bright room. It was darker this time however. He looked out at a window in the room. The sky was dark.

Does Hell have a day-night cycle?

He could see everything clearly, there was no blur, no buzzing in his head, no other noise besides his slightly unsteady breathing.

He looked around the room.

There was a man in a fuzzy over-sized purple sweater with glasses slipping down his face. His eyes were closed. He was asleep.

For a minute he considered the possibility he wasn’t in Hell, maybe he survived. Doubtful, but a possibility.

He tried to speak.��

The small and pathetic attempt at his name “Bruce.” barely made any noise in the room.

It was enough. Thank god for all our forced light sleeping habits.

“Tony!” Bruce shouted as he practically dove for the bedside. Falling onto his knees to be eye level with him.

Bruce was babbling, asking if he was okay, if he needed to call the doctor. At least get him some water?

At that moment, Tony realized just how dry and scratchy his throat was. He would have loved water.

But he could barely speak, with intense and forceful effort, Tony managed to get a “Wa…” sound out of his mouth. But Bruce and Tony had worked together on scientific breakthroughs with only a few groans and incoherent muttering. Familiarity broke through and Bruce hurriedly stood up to get him what he wanted.

“So,” Tony had finally regained a decent amount of his voice after 5 glasses. It was still rash and horse, but it worked. “Are you the one who drew the short stick and are waiting on my beck and call until I’m out of here?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Aaaaannd there he is, Tony Stark.” Bruce threw his hands up into the air. “Making jokes 3 hours after he woke up from being in a coma for 7 days.”

“Seven!?” Tony almost chocked.

Bruce looked at him funny. “Did you forget you almost died?”

“Almost dying is like my signature move.” Tony muttered.

“Well you certainly stepped your game up. Clint told me as thanks he was going to wear nothing but Iron Man themed clothes for a whole month as thanks.”

Tony imagined that and laughed. “He wouldn’t get through one hour.”

Bruce smiled for a moment, then his eyes grew concerned. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call a doctor?”

“We’re both doctors right here.”

“I meant an M.D, Smartass.”

“Why do you keep asking that anyway? If I look like garbage just tell me.”

“You look like garbage anyway.”

“Walked right into that one.”

“Tony…” Bruce bit his lip and looked away for a moment, then refocused on the man in front of him. “You didn’t just almost die.”

Tony knew it was a trap. He waited for Bruce to continue, to welcome him into eternal pain and suffering. (It’s not like he wasn’t used to it.)

“Your heart stopped beating four times before we even made it to the hospital. Thor had to keep frying you just so you would stay anywhere in the zone of savable.” Bruce closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “We all watched you die Tony, over and over again. I had to be tranquilized so the other guy wouldn’t run out and wreck the whole state of New York looking for that son of a bitch. He’s really attached to all of you. I am too.”

“Bruce.”

“Yeah Tony?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jesus!” Bruce shot up from Tony’s side. Looking completely horrified. “Jesus Tony! Nobody is mad at you for almost—for actually fucking dying over and over again!”

“Please try not to Hulk out Bruce, I’ve literally died several times recently.”

Bruce froze and looked somberly down at Tony.

“Believe me, I know.” He replied. Then there was a mostly comfortable silence.

“I uh, I was suppose to call Cap “The exact very second Tony wakes up”. So I’ve got to make a call, and you,” Bruce pointed a finger at him. “Better get ready for being fussed over by everyone until you’re discharged.” With that statement, Bruce stood up, grabbed his phone, and closed the door with a quiet click.

Tony Stark finally figured out in that moment, lying alone in a clean hospital bed, that if he were to die, there were people who would miss him. People who would be so desperate to keep him alive that they would chose to suffer and watch their friend die over and over again just to get the chance to save him.

Tony wanted to say he could feel his heart swell, and while he did feel a great deal of affection for his team. his team. But there was also an underlying fear, a fear of them being willing to put themselves on the line for him. Which is something he never wanted to happen. Something he could never experience. Not again.

So Tony Stark didn’t know how to feel staring up and the dark sky, with the brightest of stars shining brilliantly in the night.

#marvel #iron man #angst #major character injury #major character death kinda #IS THIS FUCKING ANGSTY ENOUGH FOR YOU I ALMOST CRIED LIKE 4 TIMES WRITING THIS #HOW DARE I DO THIS TO MYSELF #EAT IT #E A T I T #I POURED ALL MY FUCKING TONY ANGST INTO THIS AND YOU;RE GOING TO R E A D IT #tin-can-answers #tin-can-writes

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