#.... don't look at number three i was in fact writing sad things i wanted sad SONG | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ribread03 · 16 days

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Shower. c.sturniolo

You and Chris decide to take a shower together after you've had a long day with the "pampering" of his fans.

warnings: slight depression, overthinking, getting threats (small tho), breaking down (crying), just being sad overall, showering together, kissing, lots of fluff

use of y/n, babe, love, ma

WC:1651

AN: just thought of this while in the shower so I'ma write it real quick while I'm still thinking about it lol. there isn't that much dialog

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Pulling up into the driveway of yours and Chris' house that you share with his brothers you sigh, not expecting what to walk in on. you've already had a long day at work and you just want to get into the shower and relax in bed.

When you walk into the house you hear screaming and what sounded like a fork being thrown across the room. You take a deep breath and walk farther into the house not expecting to see Chris, Matt, and Nick all sharing a drink. You stand there and smile to yourself from behind the camera.

Your relationship with Chris is public and has been for about two weeks, you guys have been dating for a little over a year and thought it would be a good time to share the love you have for each other. It went smoothly for a bit with all of the fans being happy for you guys and them being happy that Chris was happy. But that slowly turned and you started to get some hate from the few that didn't quite love that you are Chris' girlfriend. Now it's weighing on you and you're starting to overthink things and know that you need to talk to Chris tonight.

You start to walk to your and Chris' shared bedroom to get changed when Chris pulls you into frame for you to say hi. "Hi guys!" you say with a big smile on your face trying to hide the fact that you didn't want to be in the video today after getting small threats you still put on a brave face and smile for the camera. Giving Chris a small kiss on the cheek you head to your room.

Once the boys are done filming Chris comes to find you. He finds you in one of his fresh love hoodies and shorts in a ball on the bed wrapped tight in the sheets. He walks over to you with a concerned look on his face and bends down to see what was going on.

"What's up baby?" He asks. "Wait- why are you crying?" asking now more concerned.

"I- Its nothing, really." You say slightly stumbling on your words.

"I can tell its not ma." He pauses for a moment. "Please tell me what up and what I can do to help."

You sit and think about telling him what's really going on or just saying you're tired, but end up telling him everything. "I-It's just since.. since we've told people about being together it's" You stop sitting up more before continuing. "Its been dif-different online."

"What do you mean "different" y/n/n?"

"Like I've been getting some small threats-"

Chris cuts you off, not letting you continue before grabbing your hands, pulling you into a hug. This is when you break down completely, letting it all out into his chest, small sobs escaping your mouth, tears falling down your face and you pull back he gives you a gentle smile and a quick peck on the lips.

"Ill handle it don't worry about the crazy bitches who think you don't deserve me. You are the best thing that has happened to me, over all of the fans. You. You are my number.." he stops and thinks "You're my number three." you stare at him blankly "Matt and Nick." he says and you giggle a little. "There is no one I want more than you and know one I love more than you."

You smile at him and pull him into a kiss. Smiling as you guys pull apart you start to speak before he quickly kisses you again. "Sorry" he says. "They just look so kissable" he has a shit eating grin across his face.

"Can we take a shower together?" you ask your voice slightly cracking.

"Sure love. Let me go get the shower started." he starts to walk across the room to his bathroom. "Water temperature?"

"As hot as hell its self please" you ask with a small smile forming on your lips. You love when Chris takes care of you even if its as simple as taking a shower together.

Once the water was hot Chris came back out with just his pants on. "Waters hot, like supper supper hot. just how you like it." He says as he pulls you into the bathroom filled with steam. You can feel your body relaxing already.

Chris comes up behind you and pulls you into an embrace. He starts to take your shirt off. Helping you get undressed. You let him help you, taking your pants off to speed up the process. Once your fully undressed you can feel Chris staring at you from behind. You spin to look at him, giving him a look that makes his lips go into a straight line. He just nods understanding that you're not in the mood tonight.

"Lets just get in." you say walking over opening the shower door letting more steam out. Chris not too far behind you.

Stepping into the shower you and Chris find your comfortable spots, him behind you, you right under the water soaking it all in. You feel an arm reach the shampoo on the right of you. Hearing the cap open you step aside so Chris can get his hair wet but he just pulls you back under the water. Looking over your shoulder you notice that he grabbed your shampoo.

"Chris what-" You start to say before he cuts you off.

"Just let me. I feel bad this whole going public was my idea and now your getting backlash for it."

"Ok." You say stepping back so just your head is now not getting hit by water so he can start washing it.

Hearing the cap open you prepare yourself for the cold shampoo to hit your head. Once Chris put his fingers on your scalp you relaxed even more into him. Now fully leaning your back against his chest closing your eyes as he does all the work. Feeling him massage your head was the best feeling in the world.

Chris knew that you loved when someone played with your hair so he made sure to take his time in each spot before moving on. Once he took his hands off your head you groaned at the loss of contact and slowly spun to start washing the shampoo out of your head. Chris giving you a quick kiss helped you wash the soap out of your hair.

Once done that he started putting conditioner in your hair. "remember only the ends." You remind him. He hums in response liking the comfortable silence that filled the room. Just the sound of the water hitting your bodies and the floor.

This time Chris spun you around washing the conditioner out of your hair, making sure to get it all before turning the shower off and stepping out to grab a towel for himself then for you.

"Chris you didn't even wash yourself." You kinda state kinda ask.

"I dont need to. I showered before you came home."

"Oh ok" You say to him as he wraps you up in the plush towel. You snuggle into it before walking back into the room.

"Here, take these." He says while walking to his side of the closet pulling down his favorite pair of sweats and a nice sweatshirt he knows you love.

You smile while you grab them putting them on and climbing into bed. "You coming?" questioning why he was starting to walk to the door.

"Yeah, one second." He starts walking out the door. "I have to do one thing"

"Ok, I'll be here" You tell him smiling. He returns the smile back to you before closing the door.

Its been five minutes since Chris has left the room and your starting to wonder what he is doing. As if he could read your mind he opened the door with a smile on his face, phone in hand. "What did you do" you asked him.

He didn't answer you all he did was hand you his phone that was playing a video of him, Matt, and Nick all together talking. You turn the phone up and hear Nick say "If we hear someone is sending threats to y/n again we will All" He says waving his finger around pointing at the three of them on the couch. "Block you from every form of social media we have." He finishes his statement with a quick smile but his eyes dark from anger.

You look up from the phone with slight tears prickling your eyes, feeling so loved by each of the boys. The fact they would go as far as finding the person and blocking them meant the world to you. You let a sob escape from your lips and Chris looks down to see you laughing and crying at the same time.

Chris climbs on to the bed resting his head on you. You look at him a kiss him out of the blue "As a thank you." You say when you pull back to find a surprised Chris looking back at you. You giggle when you see his kiddish smile form. "I love you so much Chris, thank you for doing that." You pause "and tell Matt and Nick I said that you as well."

"You're welcome y/n" comes from behind the door. You start to laugh as you cant believe they were eavesdropping on you, but you thought it was cute.

A few hours later you and Chris are passed out tangled in each other's bodies and embrace. Your favorite way to sleep, next to the person you loved the most, the person who care so much about you sleeping with his head on your chest, snoring slightly, cute little noises coming from him as he dreams. Your absolute favorite.

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AN: pt2: I hope you guys liked this! this was my first time writing for than some head cannons. this took me like two hours the write and I feel like it was supper cute and the end is just *chefs kiss*

#chris x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #fluff #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #reader insert

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1d1195 · 8 months

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Protection VIII

Read the rest here: Protection

Hi, this is kinda fast paced, idk. I'm def not confident about this section at all. I feel like it's got potential but I don't think I know what I'm doing. But I don't have a choice but to give it a shot anyway. I know I've mentioned before, but I like Grey's Anatomy and stupid cheesy movies with scenes like this.

Warnings: angst, blood, weapons, lots of sad sad stuff. I actually don't know how blood loss works or g*n shot wounds either but it's for the plot also this is very dramatized because the writing side of my brain is a drama queen. I don’t think it’s very accurate scientifically or logically so if you would be as so kind as to look at it “holistically” and try to just envision something super serious along these lines I would GRATEFULLY appreciate it. Also, I don't know how tech works. Sorry if it seems a bit awful

~5.9k words.

Thank you oh so much to @freedomfireflies for beta reading so I could feel a little better about actually posting this.

More than anything he wanted her to be there. Sitting on her bed reading or sleeping as she always was. He imagined her smug smile and her lilting voice murmuring “gotcha,” like this was the funniest prank.

Harry, for better or for worse, prided himself on being a hard worker. But for the last three days, and especially today, he didn’t care. He had spent the first half of that horrific day answering thousands of questions. The latter half was spent learning his new office job. When he got back to his apartment—a place he’d hardly spent any time in over the last two weeks—he finally let the tears and frustration course through him. He tried to call her again, but he received a message that his number had been blocked.

He called his mum and broke down.

So, he entered the building. It would be this way now. Day three of filing paperwork that he had spent so many hours writing for her. Now he was at the other end of it. Learning an office job when all he wanted was to head right to her flowery little place and beg her to explain. He wanted to kiss her, touch her, and promise her anything her heart wanted. He didn’t understand and he was floundering. How did he fix this? How was he supposed to breathe? After all that. After all the kisses, all the touches. All the touches he didn’t get and all the ones he deprived her of because it wasn’t protocol. What a stupid idiot.

Good luck, honey bun :( his mum texted. She texted it yesterday too and he wondered how long she would have to text it to him before the frowny face disappeared.

Harry was destined for another hundred meetings explaining that he had no idea she was feeling this way. Because of course, despite the fact he did know what she was feeling—because he felt it too—he felt so much loyalty to her. He didn’t know what her game was or why she was trying to sell it that it was one-sided, but despite how sad he was, she was brilliant. A biochemist in the making, of course, and if she had to break his heart, he believed (or wanted to believe) that she was doing the right thing.

Harry sat at his newly assigned desk and looked at the papers in front of him. Eventually, he would make her grovel for forgiveness. This was too much paperwork for him, and she had to have known how much he would have hated it. But he also thought that she would just look at him through her pretty eyelashes that drove him mad, smelling like flowers, and say sorry and that would be plenty.

There had to be an end to this. He was certain of it.

Niall wasn't allowed to tell him anything that he heard. Harry wasn't allowed to ask about her either (Niall, naturally a stickler for protocol, was following the rule--he didn't even know what she was up to. His job was to train Harry. Their supervisor saw to it that she was under his own surveillance.

"It feels m'being forced t'write with m'left hand after being right handed for m'whole life," he explained to Niall dejectedly. For five months his thoughts were consumed with the flowery girl he fell so incredibly hard for. Overnight she was just gone.

Harry began flipping through papers and tapping at his keyboard for all of four minutes when Niall suddenly dragged him out of his seat, down the hall, and back out the front door without a word. “Niall!” He ground out bitterly. He wasn’t in the mood. He wanted to kill his friend a bit for even recommending he be part of this. He wished he wasn’t her bodyguard. At least he wouldn’t be sour with heartache.

But honestly, Harry owed Niall his entire life for bringing him to her.

“She’s gone.”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Who?”

Niall slapped him across the face—not quite hard but enough to stun him and knock some sense into him. “She’s gone.”

Harry felt like this was a dream. His brain was floating distantly. “What are y’talking ‘bout?”

“There's an email on my phone, to my private email, from a random address, a random IP address. It’s her. She said DSS is compromised...that someone in the department wants her out of the picture and if I’m reading it, it means that she is not in her apartment regardless of what they say. The very same email is going to be sent in ninety minutes to everyone at DSS.”

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s a lie.”

“Harry,” Niall said. “It’s going to...blow everything up. You have to—”

“Niall, that’s ridiculous. She would—”

“She said to tell you the email is from Miss Wildflower.”

The words died in his throat. “No,” he shook his head. That wasn’t something he’d ever written down, wasn’t something he called her to anyone else. That was for him and her...and... “No...it’s not her. She’s fine,” he was in denial. How could he not be? The thought that something happened to her? This wasn’t just some long routed way of her anxiety taking over and ruining something before it started. It wasn’t getting Harry off her detail so they could spend Christmas together (something he had convinced himself of when he was crying to his mom the night before).

“No, Harry, and I'm gonna have to go make a scene and tell them but I’m giving you a head start because she's giving you a head start. You don’t have time to waste here. I’m telling them I sent you home. That you’re too distraught to work.”

Swallowing hard, he nodded. “Okay.”

“She didn’t want you to get hurt,” Niall said. “She was...scared.” Harry frowned and nodded even though he thought he was going to be sick. He winced as he thought it over. Put his hands on his knees as he took heaving breaths. “Harry,” Niall said gently. “You don’t have time—”

“Jus’ shut up, Niall,” he croaked. Niall was silent, biting the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t imagine the heartache and anguish his friend was feeling.

“At least...at least there was a reason, right?” Niall murmured.

If it meant her harm or kidnapping or...worse. No. It wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter the reason. “Yeah...” he mumbled.

Since Harry was no longer on her detail, he assumed he wouldn’t be allowed into her apartment building—at least not through the main entrance.

Even if he was allowed in the main entrance, he had to work under the assumption that whatever compromised agents would be waiting out front for him. So he would need an alternate route.

He hurried up her fire escape and opened her bedroom window just as he knew she did the very first day he met her. He was suddenly grateful for her never listening to Harry about protocol. He was glad the window was unlocked. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

Her pretty poinsettia and snowdrop apartment enveloped him like a hug. He wanted to bask in the smell of her pine-scented Christmas tree, the way her perfume made him feel at home, and just be there with her. But instead, he was trying hard to keep focus while he wanted nothing more than to break down and sob into the pillow that smelled like her shampoo.

He listened quietly and heard no one in the rest of the apartment. He searched for clues of any kind but there were none. No sign of a struggle. It was like she went with them willingly. Knowing her, she probably convinced them to let her walk on her own. But part of him believed she would have put up a fight. She had to have, right?

Her phone was on the counter. So there was no way to track her, he saw the tens of messages that came from him before he was blocked, a few from Niall, and several from the professor she would be working with next semester.

But it was Harry’s phone vibrating in his pocket was the one that pulled him from his thoughts.

Unknown: Video Attachment.

She was there. He could see her in the preview. Seeing her was like breathing again after being stuck under water for a hair too long. She was alive. She had memorized Harry’s number.

Harry thought memorizing his number was...

If it were possible to fall more in love with her, he did. It couldn't be possible because there simply wasn't room. He was already so in love with her. And it was just his phone number, after all. But he did. He fell so much harder. It felt like the marrow in his bones were aching for her touch.

Harry swallowed and sat on her sofa as he played it.

“Hi Dad...um...” she swallowed hard, like there was a lump in her throat. She looked okay. Her hair was in a braid, strands of it coming out and there was a redness to only one of her cheeks...like she had been slapped. Harry gripped his phone tightly to keep from throwing it. Her eyelashes, those pretty fluttery things that drove him nuts with desire for her, looked wet. His heart pounded. “You know,” she took a deep, shaky breath and she sucked her lip into her mouth.

“Hurry up,” he heard in the background. Wherever she was was nondescript. A construction site by the look of it. Nothing in the video sounded or looked like anything of use to finding her location. She shook her head quickly and tried again. Swallowed again.

“When Mom died, I thought the people that murdered her should have just...ended my life too. I know you know someone murdered her. No one believed me. Not one person. And I thought...I was the only person left in your life. You were supposed to love me and take care of me the way she always did. It killed me every single day that you didn’t—that you don't. It hurts so much that you hate me. Please. Just do what he asks; give him whatever...I don't want to die," she was being so brave. It was the way she held herself. How she seemed to stand straighter in the video. But Harry could hear the nervousness. Who wouldn't be nervous? It broke his heart that she was fighting and being so incredibly brave. "I’ll never bother you ever again. I’ll...go....I'll leave the country...I’ll just go."

“You have two hours,” and then he received a message from the same unknown number, the location of the park he went to when she twisted her ankle.

Harry only had a little under an hour because he knew DSS was going to be on their way soon—especially after Niall sent them on their way. If they received this message too, they would go through some inane plan that would decidedly not work--especially knowing that they were compromised. He was going to send the messages to Niall’s email from an rerouted IP address as soon as he watched the videos a few more times because if they were going to terrify her, Harry was going to help ruin their plan. They would wait for the park. It was what they did. It was the surest way. Protocol.

Harry would have given anything to see her roll her eyes at the word.

He watched the video again. And again. On the third time he was looking at the screen so closely, his eyes looking for some secret message hidden in the pixels. She looked okay, cozy. She was wearing the sweatshirt that Harry wore when he was soaked with rain—when the worst thing that happened to her was that stupid guy leaving her injured in a park. She didn’t look injured now, at least. His heart was aching. It had to be something. She wouldn’t have sent this to him for no reason--it was intended for her dad. It had to be a sign. Moreover, she said something about leaving the country--that had to be for Harry.

Harry felt like he would die if he didn’t figure it out on the next play through. It couldn’t be too hard. She may be a biochemist, but she couldn't have made it something ridiculous for him to solve. He wasn't a biochemist after all. That concert seemed like a lifetime ago. His agitation for losing her phone seemed stupid in comparison. He would tell her such as soon as he found her.

Now he was thinking about everything, every interaction they had as he stared at his phone, trying to will the hidden message to appear. It felt like it was a miracle she lost her phone at that concert. At least he told her she needed a failsafe at that point in time. Although he thought it would be for a guy that was too forward.

It was her hands.

They fidgeted throughout the entire video. He didn’t notice at first. She was nervous, her hands were tied together. Her fingers had to be going numb. He wished he had taught her how to break out of zip ties, maybe she could have escaped all on her own.

But that was when he noticed it. If it weren’t for him knowing the basics enough to know his own name when he saw it, he might not have paid any mind to the shape of her fist. Her fingers were shaking near the middle of her stomach. Her left hand was fidgeting wildly. But her right hand had a pattern, a fist, her pinky, her index and middle finger, another fist, her index finger.

Harry was glad her backpack was untouched. He grabbed one of her index cards and searched on his phone for the American Sign Language alphabet. He knew the first one was A because of his own name. Her pinky meant I. An R. Harry got it...it was her failsafe.

“Good girl,” he murmured to no one. Air. It took him four extra seconds to discern between S, M, N, E, A before he finally moved to the last two. He settled on T because the next letters were another A and G.

AirTag.

What would have an AirTag on her? He didn't have time to question it. He slid her computer out of her bag next, an index card falling from it.

His heart broke.

Harry— I Am SO sorry. I am so, so, so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I know you’re going to find me because...you’re you and you make me feel safe. And because...well... I adore you. So much. I tried so hard not to, and I tried so hard to push you away and... Please TRY to forgive me. I promise I did it with reason. I’m so sorry, Harry. SO sorry.

He didn’t have time to cry but he shoved the note in his pocket, wishing he told her he loved her at least once. Ever. He couldn’t pore over her words. Couldn’t guess what she was thinking or doing. There wasn’t time for him to guess how she knew he would find this note. Of course, she couldn’t just put all the answers on this index card because if she did, anyone could find it. Someone at DSS would have found it if she hadn’t perfectly planned for Niall to send him here beforehand. He had to find her faster and before that stupid, corrupt building got there.

Now he was tasked with her password.

Please be easy.

He clicked on the “forgot password" link. A helpful little reminder was there: Flower!number. It seemed daunting immediately. Especially because he was so distraught and worried. There were so many flowers she could have put. He tried Sunflower!14. Snowdrop!14. Peonies!14. How many times could he try? He was terrified it would lock him out. He took a deep breath and he only had moments to figure it out because he was certain people would be hurrying to her apartment from DSS soon.

Tilting his head back at the ceiling he almost felt embarrassed at how easy it seemed now.

Wildflower!14 did the trick.

With a sigh of relief, he searched AirTag on her computer. He opened the application.

She had no less than 50 AirTags. Forty-nine of which were in her apartment with Harry. All labeled with various names for her shoes.

Good girl. He thought. It was in her shoe. When would she be without shoes?

The only shoes that weren’t in her apartment were in a warehouse across the city. He scribbled the address on another index card and shoved it in his pocket alongside her perfect note telling him she loved him.

Harry could hear a commotion starting in the lobby. Sirens were ringing outside. They were coming up the stairs. He closed her laptop, slid it back into her backpack and hurried to her bedroom hoping everything look untouched. He quietly closed the window behind him as they entered her apartment. He descended the fire escape before they made it to her room.

If she could see him breaking protocol, he imagined she would laugh.

Harry parked a block away from the address. As soon as he entered the building, he hurried up two flights of stairs to where he heard talking. “It was a risk I had to take!” It was a man’s voice. Harry felt sick. “It was suspicious!” He shouted. “She said she would get more money. How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Get up,” he snapped.

She yelped and Harry thought he might die before he made it to her if he heard her getting hurt even slightly. If he pulled her hair or caused her to stub her toe, Harry would genuinely contemplate murdering him.

Harry pulled the gun from the holster around his ankle. He pointed it down toward the ground and waited by the entrance to the floor and peered so very briefly around the corner of the wall. He caught a glimpse of her beautiful being walking on her own. A gun pressed to her back. Harry swallowed the bile rising in his throat.

If something happened to her, Harry would never forgive himself.

"Listen," she said almost gently. Like she was going to reason with someone with a gun. She was going to get herself murdered and Harry couldn't stop her right now. "I know...I know you want money. I get that, honestly I do. Who doesn't, right?"

God Harry envied her serenity in a moment like this.

He wasn't actively putting bullets in her so she continued. "You're a smart guy. They wouldn't have picked you to do this if you weren't, but you...you have to realize you're their fall guy. This is a national security matter. The first sign of trouble they're going to say you kidnapped me, you hurt me. They will come out clean because they have to," she explained so rationally it would have been obvious to anyone with a pulse. "You don't have to take me there," she finally whimpered the true emotion she was feeling. Harry winced as if her pain was in his own body--he certainly felt like it was. "I can just go...I have a plan. I...or we can fake my death. It doesn't have to be this way," she promised. Like they were going to be a team.

But Harry knew what it was: all her rambling. It was a distraction, it was stalling.

Because she had no way of knowing if Harry made it in time to save her--but the one thing she did know? If she was brought to the park...it was all over.

Harry took a deep silent breath trying very hard to keep as calm as possible because he could not afford one second of hesitation or any kind of slip up. He turned the corner aiming his weapon toward the man holding her at gunpoint. “Harry!” She gasped and made three bold steps toward him; hands still bound up in front of her. The man behind her fired off a round right toward the concrete wall just feet away. Harry didn’t waver, holding his own gun steady in front of him as she yelped again, pausing her steps. It was long enough that he snagged her back before she got any closer to Harry.

The person behind her had his arm around the front of her shoulders. He pressed the cold metal to her temple. She wanted to scream or cry or something. Her hands clutched to the man’s forearm trying desperately to wriggle free. He was using her as a shield—the coward. Harry wanted to scream too. He held his gun aimed directly at his head from several meters away. But it was way too close of a shot for him to even think about taking it. Not with her right there. Not with a weapon held to her beautiful, perfect face.

It felt like all those times he watched guys lean too close to her at the bar amplified by ten thousand. It felt like the realization that stupid prick slipped something in her drink multiplied by a million. His lips were near her ear. Harry was so grateful she was alive and awake.

And maybe, most importantly to Harry, she looked pissed.

“He’s going to kill you,” she hissed at him, tears in her eyes. Bless her angry little heart.

That’s my girl. Harry thought. Harry was going to kill him. Especially if he harmed her in any capacity. He pressed the gun harder against her skin and she winced. Harry faltered for half a second.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sounding so much braver than he felt. He was a mess internally. It was a wonder his hands didn’t shake holding his weapon. He wanted to surrender himself—him for her, he would have taken her spot in a heartbeat. He would do anything to get her out of here.

“Right as rain,” the man said. Harry wondered if he should just take his shot right now. Damn it all because he wanted to kill him for thinking this was funny.

She nodded, just barely. Harry felt the most minor amount of relief.

She could try to run for him again. She was certain she could make it—she almost did. Harry would stop him before he even realized she managed to get away from him. A kick to the shin—or worse. The only thing that stopped her was the metal against her head. She was terrified that one wrong movement would set off a reflexive action that would take her life. Harry inched closer. Six measly feet away from her. She could nearly smell his fresh cologne probably applied habitually before he headed to work.

But six feet may as well have been six thousand miles.

“I can kill her, now,” he said. “Makes no difference to me. I get paid either way,” she inhaled sharply. She thought there would be a bruise from the circular barrel pressing to her skull.

She swallowed, staring at Harry. Perfect, wonderful Harry. If this was the last time her eyes were opened, at least he would be the last thing she saw. Harry had to focus on staying as calm as humanly possible. Even though the thrum of his pulse was like thunder in every inch of his body. She looked unharmed and said she was okay...other than her wrists tied together. “If you kill me, you’ll never get to my dad,” she reminded him. Harry was surprised to hear her talk about her dad. There had to be something more. But he didn’t have time to think about it. He had to get her out of here.

He eyed Harry as he inched even closer. “Keep moving, I’ll kill her,” he promised with a shrug. Harry stopped in his tracks, and she tried to pull her head from the gun. She was so brave, not even the tears in her eyes were stopping her from trying to get away.

Harry was going to give her anything she wanted. A thousand coffees, a million movies, a new set of pens and a fresh batch of index cards, or a hundred fake bouquets to decorate her place. Whatever she wanted.

“Harry,” she whispered breathlessly. He wanted to cry at the sound of worry in her voice.

“I know, love,” he murmured, trying to feign this wasn’t killing him.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked.

He wanted to wince, but he couldn’t blink. It felt like if he dropped his gaze for even a second it would be over. He would lose. He could not lose her. He didn’t respond to her. “Shut up,” the man snapped. She dropped her hands from his arm and Harry wondered how he didn’t drop his gun at the sight. It looked like she was giving up. It felt like they had to give up. What were they supposed to do? It was so quiet; even the cars outside the building seemed to be silent.

Harry and the unknown man stared at each other unmoving from their positions. It was almost like he was watching her in his peripheral vision he saw her fingers fidgeting just like they had in the video. A repetitive movement. Except this wasn’t quite sign language.

This was her thumb and index finger forming the shape of a gun and then her thumb pointing back toward herself shifting ever so slightly so her movement wouldn’t alert the man holding her hostage. Harry shook his head imperceptibly.

“Please,” she begged.

“I said, ‘shut up’,” he gripped her tighter, shaking her and Harry allowed himself to wince. He shook his head more obviously.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I’m going to put a bullet right in your mouth, shut. Up,” he pulled on the safety which clicked so loudly in her ear she thought it was the trigger on its own.

She released a horrific, terrified sob. “Harry, please,” she croaked.

Harry thought his heart was going to break. He nearly closed his eyes as he pulled his trigger right when she sobbed.

The sound of her cry marginally covered the ear-piercing ring of the weapon. She tore herself from the man’s grip impulsively. It was primal, the need to tend to her new wound. The sound and sight of Harry shooting at her had clearly done exactly as she wanted: completely distracted him. Trying to grab at the burning pain in her thigh with her wrists held together. She screamed so violently, so loud, Harry swore it was louder than the sound of the bullet.

As she dropped to the ground; Harry had a clear shot of the man and took it. It pierced directly through his forearm, so he dropped the gun. Harry placed another precise shot to the opposite shoulder rendering both his arms useless.

She was writhing in agony but somehow managed to reach for his weapon with her tied arms, and awkwardly shoved it out of his reach. Harry thought she was his hero. He was going to give her anything she wanted for as long as she lived.

Blood was pooling from both parties and Harry grabbed the man by his injured arm, nearly digging his thumb into the wound to make it worse. He groaned and yelled. He sounded worse than she did. He tried not to think about his beautiful angel bleeding with a wound he caused. All of the wounds he inflicted were well out of harm's way. They would repair eventually.

But Harry didn't need to be shot with a bullet to know it hurt. There was a reason people used the expression I need it like I need a hole in the head when they talked about something they definitely didn't want.

Harry thought honestly about snapping his neck. Instead, he shoved him behind the pole facing away from them, blood dripping in his path and wrapped his arms around the pole, handcuffed them together so he couldn’t escape with a set of zip ties he brought with himself--because Harry was not taking any risks when he found her. He had to be dealt with quickly, but he wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things.

With the few seconds it took Harry to rid himself of the nuisance now stuck behind the pole, moaning in agony until he could get DSS and the cops, (and everyone under the sun) here. It took a moment for Harry to realize he hadn’t heard her screams of pain as he did. She was lying on the ground, eyes closed, face paling, blood pooling around her lower half.

Oh fuck.

“Love?” He whispered brokenly. Harry dropped to his knees beside her. She was bleeding so much. Too much. The training he had from his EMT days was kicking in reflexively thank God. His movements were quick: yanking his belt off, violently pulling himself out of his coat and ripping the bottom part of his shirt off. Her jeans were soaked with her blood, seeping its way up her sweatshirt. He yanked her wrists free of the zip ties finally. I have to get her a new sweatshirt he thought uselessly.

Harry wasn’t nauseous about blood. But the thought of her dying because of blood loss made him feel so sick. Why did he listen to her? Why would he shoot her? Why, why, why!?

He was trying to do too many things at once. His right hand was holding pressure with the piece of his shirt against her wound. He pressed so hard; an insane amount of pressure—he thought he might break her already fragile leg, but it would be worth it if she would wake up. He nicked something. Something bad. Or she had a clotting problem. Something was amiss. This...this was one of the safest places he could have aimed. It had one of the highest recovery rates. All he had to do was follow her stupid fucking plan.

But it wasn't stupid. It was exactly what she wanted. It was what she expected. Harry just had no idea she had prepared for that.

If she could talk Harry down she would have. It wasn't his fault. He followed her plan even though she never explicitly told him. Even though he had no idea she didn't know her own anatomy all that well and accidentally lined up one of the arteries (but fortunately did miss her femoral artery--just barely).

His left hand dialed 911. He didn’t let the operator talk, he was spewing out the address, who he was, what the issue was, barely getting the details out in a messy rush. Harry barely waited a moment before he hung up and called Niall. He didn’t listen to anything he had to say at the other end of the line and repeated the same summary again, this time losing it the longer he talked, his voice coming out in a strangled cry and if it was anyone but Niall he would worry more about professionalism.

“Baby,” he croaked leaving the phone on, shaking her by the shoulder, he lifted her head out of the puddle of blood, her face and hair sticky with the substance. He slipped his jacket beneath her head, a cushion something to get her off the cold, bloody floor. “You gotta let me see those beautiful eyes...” he shook her head. “Love, please,” he begged giving her a squeeze. She moaned and her eyes fluttered behind the lids a bit. The slight relief he felt seemed like hope. “That’s good. Hey, hi, angel,” he cooed. Her eyes turned to little slits as she opened them so very barely. “Good job,” he praised. “Y’jus' gotta stay awake for like 10 more minutes, sweetheart. Okay? Ambulance is coming,” he promised. He continued working on her leg. He was wrapping his belt around her thigh, high around the top. He pulled it into a tight knot. She moaned at the feeling.

“Stop,” she whimpered reaching with her freed hand uselessly for his ministrations.

“I know, love, m’sorry,” he felt his voice dying in his throat. This was bad. So horrifically, bad. “Y’got a bit of a gash here, Miss Wildflower, jus’ like when y’were cooking,” he reminded her. “Remember?”

She didn’t respond and Harry found a piece of metal, like something from the construction that was left lying around, to slip in the knot he made. He twisted it causing an involuntary scream to rip from her throat. He winced at the sound of her agony.

“Harry please,” she begged, eyes dripping with tears. Her hands reached again for him to stop. “It hurts!”

“I know, m'love. M’sorry. Jus’ gotta...” he kept twisting and holding pressure on the wound. Her hands reached for it again, he grabbed both, she was too weak to do anything anyway, but he held them both against her side. “There,” he felt a pinch more relief seeing the gushing had stopped.

“S’cold,” she whispered after a moment of stillness. The burning seemed to stop. It was overshadowed by how cold she was.

Harry thought he might die if she died right in front of him. His heart was racing, the adrenaline was violently coursing through him. “I know beautiful, I know. Goddammit,” he hissed. “Niall, I need back up. Now!”

He pressed harder on her wound and looked at the pool of blood surrounding her. It was too much, too dark. “Ow, Harry! Please, stop! It hurts!” She whimpered.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m so sorry m’angel. I’m so sorry.” He could hear the sirens. “Jus’ another minute.”

She groaned for a few seconds before silence took over again. Harry pressed on her wound again. He was covered in her blood as well. She moaned again at the fiery pain. “M’sleepy,” she managed.

“I know, beautiful. I know; but y’can’t sleep yet. Not yet. I’ll let you sleep soon, I promise.”

More silence. “S’really cold.”

Harry wanted to cry. He sniffled and realized he already was. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“M’sorry I ran away,” she mumbled. He didn’t say anything because he didn’t want her to know how mad he was even though she seemed close to dying. “I had...had to...get you away...they’d kill you. And then... I’d have no one…at least this way...” she trailed off.

“Kitten,” he said firmly, he swallowed back the tears. Squeezed her hands. “You are going t’get in an ambulance in thirty seconds and you are going t’live a long, beautiful life. Please jus’ stay awake for jus’ a few more minutes.”

Harry swore she smiled faintly. “...With you?”

“God, if s’what y’want. I'll stay forever, love. Jus’ stay awake, please,” he begged. She didn't respond and Harry began to panic. Where was the fucking ambulance? “Angel, Tell me the functional groups.”

“Hmm?”

“Please, love. Tell them t’me again.”

“Ketone. Carbonyl. Acyl…” she sighed.

“Describe aldehyde,” he croaked. “Niall! Where is it?! Please, baby,” she could feel his hand on her face, but she realized she couldn’t see him anymore. “Kitten, honey, please open your eyes.”

Was he crying?

She wanted to say she loved him out loud. Wanted to say she was sorry for everything one more time but unfortunately her tongue was suddenly too heavy to speak. She swore she heard Harry crying, shouting, and whispering he loved her right in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

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melanieph321 · 4 months

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Ruben Dias x Reader - City Girls Part 7/8

Yeah this is a mess I can't fix 😅. Had fun writing this chapter tho since it ft Kyle Walker whom I am very fond of 🤣

Reader plays for the Man City girls academy. She struggles a bit but gets Ruben to mentor her. The the two don't hit off despite having many things in common. It all gets worse when Reader eventually catches feelings for Ruben.

Enjoy!

Cityzens Day.

It was mainly for the club sponsors but alot of players brought along their families and friends as the day was filled with fun activities, football challanges and the ever so popular guided tour inside the Ethiad campus.

It was your first time attending, although it was mandatory for all City players. A little sad, that you weren't able to bring your family from Brazil. They would have loved it, especially the chance to play football at the Ethiad Stadium. Apparently that was the highlight of the event, a friendly game between players from all levels, men, women, girls and boys, and of course their families. The game would be broadcasted on the teams website and it usually brought alot of laughs to alot of people. You couldn't wait to play, but until then you wandered the campus alone, watching other players enjoying spending quality time with their families.

"Hey Y/N, come here!"

You were observing a very intense juggling contests between an academy player and someone's kid, when coach spotted you in the crowd, waving you over.

"Meet my family." He stood next to a beautiful red-haired woman and young boy with a toothy smile. "This is my wife Trish, my son Ethan and that over there..." He pointed towards the crowd, to the center of it, where the juggling contests was happening. "That is my daughter Lucy." He said.

"Wow, she's really good."

She was definitely bruising the ego of the young academy player. He would certainly up his juggling game after this.

"You know, she reminds me alot of you." Coach smiled. "I can't get her to stop juggling the ball either."

"Seems like her talent won't go to waste today, the price is a Playstation 6, no?"

You shared a laugh. Coach had a lovely family who had flown all the way from Australia to see him. Cityzens Day was really the best time for that.

A food truck pulled up to campus just in time for lunch. You bought a taco bowl so big that you had to share it with another player as she saw you struggling.

"So when are you coming to play with us again." She asked, you knew her as Alison Bennett.

"I dunno?" You sighed. "I don't think I fit into the kind of squad your coach wants."

"Are you joking?" Alison frowned. "But you played so well with us."

It was strange really, but since it happned more than once now, that you got excluded from playing with the first team, you simply assumed the worst. Even though Ruben told you not to worry about it, you couldn't help but to. Your development as a player was at stake. And the fact that Ruben's diet helped you put on a few pounds was not a constellation. Perhaps the coaches on the first team had noticed, that you were getting fat?

"Speaking of playing, are you on for the game this afternoon?" Alison asked.

"The game against cityzens?"

"Yeah?"

You smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great. I really hope you're on my team. I'm the captain. We're gonna need...."

Alison got tuned out as you sighted something in the distance, or better yet, someone. It was Ruben, walking side by side with a woman just as tall as him only thinner. She was wearing a Man City jersey, sporting the number three, Ruben's number three. He held a hand to her lower back, guiding her around, introducing her to his teammates.

"Speaking of players I would like on my team." Alison took notice of where all your attention had gone. "We could surley use a defender like Dias."

"Ruben?" You asked, your voice a bit strained.

She nodded "He's like the best defender City's got. We'll never concede goals with him on our team."

You turned back to look at Ruben and the woman he had brought. Could it be his girlfriend? In that case Ruben didn't have a type, because you looked nothing like her.

"He used to coach me, you know?" Alison leaned in and whispered.

"Who, Ruben?"

She bit her lip, nodding her head.

"B...but you're a forward?"

"So? Aren't you one too? Nevertheless, Ruben used to teach me how to improve my skills. You know, help me get past the...."

"Defenders." You said, finishing of her sentence.

"Yeah, exactly. He's a really good coach."

"I can imagine." You ignored the painful beating of your heart. "Tell me..." You asked. ".. did you used to go to his place to, you know,"hang out"?"

She snorted. "No, why would I do that?"

"Oh."

A slight relief.

Alison stood, having helped you finish your meal. Her smile was devious. "No, Ruben used to take me back to the infirmary. We used to"hang out" there."

Your heart sank.

It was the realization that perhaps you were one of many.

********************************************

The afternoon sun was setting over Manchester City, but Cityzens Day was far from over. The game of cityzens was still on the agenda.

You laced up your cleats and stepped onto the football pitch at the magnificent Ethiad Stadium. It was truly breath taking playing in front so many people. Although the game was for fun, you were determined to showcase your talent, and even more determined to win against Ruben and his team. That's right, he was the captain of a squad containing lots of good players from all divisions. Players that made your teammates look like freaking toddlers.

"Alright! Ladies, fellas, huddle up!" A man urged for all the players on your team to gather around him. He was big, but funny looking, with a voice that did not match his brutal appearance.

"I'm Kyle Walker, but you can call me your captain for this evening."

"Captain?" Alison frowned. You were lucky to have her om your team, however, she did not look happy to find the captains armband handed to someone else. "We never voted for you to be our captain." She protested.

"Well, you should have. I have the experience when it matters and feel confident that I can lead this team to victory." He said.

"How?" A young U21 player squealed. Like the rest of you he was glaring at Ruben and his team as they warmed up on the opposite side of the pitch. The majority of Ruben's squad were players from the men's first team, including their assistant coaches.

"They're gonna eat us alive." The boy said, to which everyone agreed.

"Well that's not the spirit. Come on guys, hands in." Kyle ordered for everyone to stretch out a hand towards the ring you formed. "Victory on three, alright. One...two...three...VICTORY!" Kyle shouted, whilst the rest of you mumbled the words. Nevertheless you personally were not intimidated. You had played against tough opponents before, and you knew that you had a team that could give it their all, because Manchester City was arguably the best football club in the world.

The whistle blew, and the game began.

The first half was a blur of sweat and noise, as the two teams battled it out on the field. You dribbled and ran, dodging and weaving around your opponents, but Ruben and his team were tough to beat. They were bigger and stronger, and they had a few tricks up their sleeves.

"Whatta fuck!"

You ate dirt as Ruben ordered his players to tag team you. You stood no chance as Ruben was well aware that you rather go on your own than pass the ball.

"I'm sorry Y/N."

Ester pulled you up from the ground, having helped her teammates knock you down. She was playing for Ruben but seemed genuinely sorry for how he was running his play.

"Just give me the ball." You scuffed, as coach blew the whistle, handing your team a freekick for the offense made against you.

Kyle took it and missed.

The game resumed.

"Come on team, it's not over yet!" Your "captain", encouraged. "Fight until the end!"

As the second half began, your team was down by three goals, the majority of players being tired, cold and dirty, ready to throw in the towel. But you refused to give up. You knew that you had to do something to turn the game around, and you were determined to be the one to make it happen.

The moment didn't reveal itself until injury time. During he last minute's of the game. Ruben misjudged a pass, and you saw your chance. Charging directly towards him you had no other intention than to dribble past him.

"Pass the ball!" Kyle shouted, pointing to Alison who stood open, ready to receive the assist.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, you had to do this, you had to try and get past him. However Ruben's braud frame made it nearly impossible for you to sight the goal behind him. He looked smug, aware that your chances of getting past him were slim to none. But you had prepared for this. Ruben had prepared you for this. As he lunged forwards, you did not hesitate to bring the fight to him. The two of you clashed together, with Ruben's strangeth throwing you off, however you had suprised him with an elbow to his lower ribs, the quick jab making him fold before your eyes. It was your chance to get past him. For that split second that you caught him lacking you managed to ship the ball in the air and leaped your body over Ruben's extended leg. It was the moment of the match, the crowd on their feet watching a 60kg girl go head to head with one of the world's greatest defenders, beating him to it, sending the ball into the back off the net.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and your team rushed onto the field, arms around each other's shoulders, grinning from ear to ear.

"That's what I'm talking about. That's how we play!" Kyle Walker was in the verge of tears. You may have lost the game, but you had proven that you were not to be underestimated. Not now, not ever. By anyone.

"Great game Y/N."

"Um, thanks."

Ester approached you as the pitch cleared of people, friends and family members heading their respective ways. Cityzens Day was officially over.

"I really mean it, you played amazing."

You were on the ground tying your cleats. Looking up at Ester you sighed. "What do you want?"

Her expression was hard to read, her eyes desperate to tell you somthing. "I..." She squealed.

You stood, hands on your hips. "Yes?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry it had to be this way...between us. You really deserve to play with the first team but so do I. I've fought all of my life for this position."

"And I haven't?" You gasped. "Ester if you've got somthing else to say to me I rather not hear it." You turned your back on her and walked away, however, she fought to catch up to you.

"Come on Y/N. At least now you get to be with your boyfriend. I mean it was his idea."

"Whatta hell are you talking about Ester. I don't have a boyfriend."

"Could have fooled me." She chuckled, to which you frowned. "Ruben practically begged me not to tell the club officials about you two. He told me that he would talk to the coaches on the first team, tell them how you were having problems settling into a new country, mental problems, that were effecting your performance."

"He did what?"

Suddenly you lost the sensation of your hands and feet.

Ester nodded. "It worked. The coaches on the first team didn't want to put pressure on you by calling you up to play for them and so they picked me instead. It's a win-win for both of us since you get to be with Ruben and I get to play."

You were lost for words, trying to make sense of her words that were like riddles to your ears. However one thing was clear, Ruben had betrayed you, and for what?

#fanfiction #football imagine #ruben dias #man city #manchester city #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #kyle walker

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mochidreambubble · 11 months

Text

From Golden Grove, Love Sunset Bird

[ongoing fic]

Ao3 link

Chapters on Tumblr ~ 1 2 3 (you're here!) 4

previous - next

{Cove was your new best friend, but your fairy pen pal was also basically your best friend. It makes sense but not to Cove, but... But why is it he thinks you could only have one best friend anyways?}

[some notes from me before I continue, or you can just scroll down to the new chapter after the linebreak.

Comes back in here with a wedding pretzel and b/w ice cream sandwich like I didn’t leave this fic for months-

Few things of note going forward:

Due to OLNF clearly still being in progress, I’ve decided to do more of the first game for now. Though, for every B&A chapter out, in future, there will be the same number of NF POVs/Centric chapters.

It’s a little sad cause I wanted to do alternative POV chapters but that would just put this whole fic on hold instead (I do have one more OLNF chapter after this, but next time it will be unlikely)

I’ve also decided not to do a linear timeline, which I think is fine cause I’ll be labelling each chapter title with the step anyways? So maybe don't expect the next chapter for the respective MCs to be in the same or the next step cause I’ll likely just go back and forth on what I feel like writing to make it easier. Unless it’s a narrative thing I wanna follow up on.

(Also due to recent developments…. Maaaaaybe I won’t be sticking to Cove/MC, at least not straightforwardly)

And done, onward to the new chapter]

Three: Beginnings & Always Step 1 ~ “Nobody said I only could have 1 best friend”

You’d like to think you don’t get into fights that often. Maybe with Lizzie sometimes , which Mom and Ma always sat both of you down for cause siblings only had each other and you should talk things out.

But this was different. Cove was crying, which made you cry. You cried harder when he yelled that you weren’t friends anymore. What did you even do ?

You thought Cove and you got on pretty well over this summer. It was super great to have a kid your age for once, and one who didn’t move away once summer break was over. In fact, thanks to Cove, a lot had happened in just these few months alone. You barely had the time to write to your pen pal.

It made you feel kind of bad especially since, across the summer, you had at least 10 different postcards from them. Mom had left them in a neat pile and a colourful ribbon to make sure not a single postcard could go flying off. Which was silly because you’re sure postcards can’t fly.

You were waiting for Cove to come over. Ma promised to let both of you decorate the cupcakes she was baking, but only after you’ve both finished your weekend homework. It was criminal (were you using that phrase right?) that teachers gave soooo much homework. It was only the third week of the new school term too. It may have been cooler but you could still smell the summer spirit in the air.

Mr Holden said Cove would be there by 3pm on the dot. You think that means that Cove will be there on time?

You had your eyes glued to the clock in your room. But you got a little bored just looking at it, so you ended up reading the postcards your fairy friend sent instead. Their summer adventures back home were made up of carnivals (right in the middle of the city! Where did they have the space for that?) and two visits to the zoo. If not, they were spending time with their mother, on short trips to the nearest beach. There were a bunch of stickers. In fact, two postcards were mostly just stickers and a cute drawing smushed in there. Maybe they were wondering when you’d write something back…

There was one postcard scrawled with crayons that caught your eye. It was sent to you not long after the one you sent earlier in summer break.

Is your green friend smiling now? Cove? I wanted to send you candy to give to your new friend. Candy makes me happy.

Mama laughed when she read your letter. Mama says Cove’s papa is funny. Mama also said sometimes Mamas and Papas do funny things for us. Because we are their babies. But we are not babies anymore, I dunno why she says silly things like this.

You guess this maybe was the postcard that came with a small box of hard candies. Mom took one look at the postcard and gift and told you it was likely because these were harder to melt. It was a little sticky because of how hot it still was, you bet. But not a goopy mess.

With a quick glance at the clock, you decided you still had time. It was almost 3pm. There was totally time.

You took a piece of paper from your special drawer. It had all your sparkly pens and colour pencils. Most importantly, your pretty paper. Instead of white paper with lines, it was the colour of the sea with starfish and coral at the corners.

Hello little fairy!

Sorry I took so long to write to you. I had a lot of things to do this summer. Cove is a lot of fun, but he’s still not very smiley yet. But I think he is magic!!! Like for realsies!!!

You decided to start by telling the story of Cove and the Amazing Alexander. Not about how Cove’s balloon popped at the end though. It was still too sad…

You were only getting started when you heard Lizzie yell super loudly from downstairs that Cove was here. You jumped off the final two steps, touching down with a smack as your two feet landed. Mom yells out to be careful when she hears the telltale sound of what you just did.

“I’m okay!” You tell back, but you hear mom sigh. She worries about the silliest things for sure.

Cove was waiting for you, by himself, cause Lizzie had already joined Mom in the kitchen. You don’t think he waited all that long but you still felt kind of bad…

With a skip in your step, you went up to him just as he stood up, a smile on his face.

“Hi,” he greets you softly, fidgeting with his glasses.

It wasn’t all that cold yet, but he was already sporting a long-sleeved shirt. Maybe it was just cause it had been a while since he could, since he got his cast off recently.

“Heya Cove!” Part of you wanted to hug him, but Ma and Mom told you to still be extra careful even though he could finally get his cast off, so you made sure you smiled extra sparkly for him. “Thanks for coming over to help with the decorating!”

“Yeah, it sounded… Fun.”

You grab both his hands to give them an excited shake, but before you can lead him to the kitchen, your mom calls out from the island counter, cleaning up with Lizzie and helping dry some dishes.

“Not just yet kiddos, I’ve just put them in the oven, so it’ll be a while. How about you bring Cove up to your room, hm? I’ll call you two back down when they’re ready.”

“Yeah, I’m just helping mom cause she said I could lick the spoon for icing,” Lizzie says in her sing-song voice.

Mom makes a big show of clutching her chest. “Defeated by icing, oh Lizzie, you’re leaving your mom out to frost-”

Lizzie gives out a huff as she rolls her eyes and you giggle. “Sure thing, mom! C’mon Cove.”

He probably knows the way to your room by now, but you like holding his hand. Cove still takes the time to look around even though your room hasn’t changed since the last time he was here.

Well. Not exactly because he spots the difference right away.

“Postcards?”

Oh. Right. You spent all that time with Cove this summer, but you never really did tell him about your fairy pen pal, huh?

You pat a spot in your room for him to sit as you gather them up. “Mmhm, it’s from my friend in Chicago!”

Cove’s mouth forms an ‘O’ shape as you hand over the postcards. “How do you become friends with someone who lives far away?”

“We’re pen pals!” You say like it answers everything. Cove’s face tells you all you need to now - he was confused and your answer didn’t tell him anything, which meant he thought it was bad and unhelpful. So you grab another pile of postcards and short letters, plop down next to him and begin to explain.

Like how and why you started writing to them, who they were and details like they’re kind of like Shiloh in that they only lived with their mom, they were two years younger, they lived in the city and their home was kind of tiny, they liked doodling and collecting stickers…

Cove was already on the latest set of postcards as you add on, “And they’re my best friend!”

It was like a magic spell was cast and turned Cove to stone because he freezes entirely.

“...Cove?” You turn to look at them, small bubbles of panic rising.

“Your best friend?” He was whispering so softly, which didn’t help that he sounded like something was stuck in his throat. His eyebrows were slowly forming a frown.

“Y-yeah, but…. Cove, what’s wrong?”

“B-But you said we were best friends!” He stands up with a shout, causing you to jump up too with a shock.

You did kind of say that, when Cove asked if you were friends during the sleepover but…

He was already starting to cry which made your heart fast and loud.

“Of course you are Cove!”

“But you just said I wasn’t!”

“I didn’t say that!”

He tosses the postcard all over and stomps his foot. “Yes you did! You said your pen pal was your best friend!”

You looked at him confused and unsure, but find yourself yelling back. “Yeah! Both of you are my best friends!”

“No!” He shouts again, crossing his arms. “You can only have one best friend!”

And the two of you became stuck in a circle of yes, no and crying because all of it made you confused and upset. Why was he so mad about this?

It became so loud that Mom came up to see what was wrong. You ran over to hug and tried to explain. You’re not sure she understood you fully but she was nodding, at least. She must have called Mr Holden or something because by the time she brought both of you back downstairs still hiccuping the tears back, he had dropped in a little while later.

He looked between you and Cove, sat on opposite sides of the sofa. You didn’t even have the energy to greet him like usual, even when he smiled at you. Mom had pulled him aside and started to whisper to him. Mom handed him a tupperbox of cupcakes - Lizzie still decorated them as she watched you from the stool she was using to reach the high counter, glancing from Mom to you and Cove.

“C’mon Cove,” He came back over and ruffled his hair. He looked away when he realised you were watching which made you feel pain and you could feel the tears again. He gets up and follows Ciff out without any issue, and for the first time since Cove moved to Sunset Bird, he left without you saying ‘Goodbye’.

But who cares, he was being stupid. Why couldn’t he understand that you could have many precious best friends if you wanted?! Both of them were important to you after all…

And you try and explain that to Mom once Cove left, and to Ma again. If both of them could understand, why couldn’t Cove…

It had been a whole day since the fight with Cove, but you still felt upset. Not even dance practice felt fun…

Lizzie was even being nice to you, offering to play whatever game you picked once you got back. It’s things like this that make you really love her, even if Lizzie was bossy most of the time. But it still bothered you, even as you played with her, that by the time the sun was setting on a what should be a happy Sunday…

“Hey, where are you going?” Lizzie stands up just as you do, as you run back upstairs.

You were on a mission now, you decided as you grab a bunch of letters between you and your pen pal. You simply yell out as you swing the front door open that you’re going to the Holdens, your Mom yelling back Alright but you had to be back for dinner soon.

You knock with your free hand, the other squishing the small stack of paper to your body. Mr Holden opens the door with a surprise.

“Hiya Mr Holden, sorry about yesterday.”

“Oh, it’s alright. It seems like my boy made you quite upset too. But, are you here to-”

“See Cove? Yep, can I?”

You watch as Mr Holden thinks on it for a little while, then nods. “Of course, kiddo. Do you remember where Cove’s room is?”

You nod. This would be the second time you would have been there, the first was after the first day of school you had together with Cove. It was super lucky, the two of you were in the same class and your seats were side by side.

You thank Mr Holden and he heads back to the kitchen counter after he makes sure you were fully inside. You walk to Cove room door, taking a deep breath. The door opens before you even land a knock, Cove staring at you in surprise when he realised you were there.

You expected him to slam the door in your face. Lizzie does that to everyone when she’s mad…

But he just… Stands there, not even looking at you, his eyes staring right at the floor.

“Hey Cove,” you manage to say, but it was so soft that you weren’t sure about your plan anymore.

“Hi.”

Oh, at least he greeted you back, right?

“Um… So uh, I was wondering if I could come in for a bit.”

He doesn’t look up, instead shuffling back in. He left his room door open, so you walk in and close it after. You liked Cove’s room, even if it felt kind of empty at the moment. You were helping him add more to his shell collection.

Once you were both in there, standing a space apart, the silence came back. You take in another deep breath.

“Sorry!”

“ ‘m sorry.”

Huh?

Cove finally looks up at you, eyes filled with tears again. “Oh Cove, please don’t cry I’m-”

“I’m sorry,” he’s already crying but he repeats his apology again. “I still want us to be- Be friends!”

“Of course we’re still friends! Best friends even!”

“B-But-”

You take out some of the postcards from your other bestie and start to talk. “A-And you can be their best friend too! I sent them a letter at the start of summer and they sent me so many postcards and some of them were asking about you!”

He looks surprised and rubs at his eyes to stop the tears. “You told them about me?”

“Mmhm! I promise you, they’ll like you too! And we can all be best friends together so… So uh…”

You start to fumble and ramble, about how it should be fine to have more than one best friend anyways cause you should be allowed to make your own rules. And that whoever made that old rule was stupid because Cove and you could do anything you wanted to anyways!

“And you can help me write the next one too! I was gonna write about what I did this summer and you were there for almost all of it so…!!”

He nods at last, and the postcards and short letters go flying as you rush to hug him.

Mom looks at the rather thick envelope with a smile.

“You sure you got everything packed up in here, kids?”

You look to Cove and he gives a firm nod. “Yes… Uh, we made sure to read everything three times so we got everything.”

“The whooooole summer adventure,” you nod seriously, your hands together motion in a wide circle as you tell mom.

Mom laughs and ruffles both your heads, Cove ducking a little. Your mom promises to get it delivered and you grab onto Cove excitedly. You already can’t wait to hear back!

[last note from me this chapter: my friend 'weebnt_b' read through the new chapter but they're kind of not feeling too good, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know!

#cove holden #our life beginnings & always #my fic #my writing #our life now and forever #From Golden Grove Love Sunset Bird fic #We're still friends even if we're miles apart fic series

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quickspinner · 2 years

Note

What do you think of Adrien redemption fics, and would you ever write one?

Wow I kind of spun out on a tangent so here's the teal deer and you can read the full word vomit under the cut:

More power to the writers who enjoy such things, but personally I'm just not interested at this point, so unless it's a side plot of a Lukanette story, I wouldn't seek one out to read, nor would I write one myself. The closest I really have is Something Just Like This, where all three characters work things out not always amicably, which I tend to think of as a prequel to All in the Family, where Adrien becomes the most welcome third wheel in history. At this point in time though, I'm just tired of Adrien and all the drama, canon and fandom, that comes along with him, and I don't care enough to put the effort in.

Since I've said it in the discord I might as well say it here--if I ran the world, I would have had Adrien take all his sad about being left out in Season 4, and decide he's going to be such a good hero that LB won't need anyone else, and he'd go off to get Su Han to teach him Mirakung Fu or whatever it is and actually step up to help LB and prove he can be the partner she needs--and maybe learn along the way that it's okay not to be LB's everything and that relying on other people is actually a good thing, he doesn't have to be perfect to be important. (That plot is free to anyone who wants to use it, feel free, drop me a link so I can see what you do with it.)

Now that I've written the longest run on sentence ever, here's the actually wordy stuff under the cut. 😂

I don't think Adrien's irredeemable, in fact I don't even think he'd be all that hard to redeem, but...let me think how can I put this, because I don't want to be like love square/Adrien stans are evil because they are not. They're just people who like something different than I like and that's totally okay. Ship and let ship.

But there are a vocal number that are, shall we say, annoying. Because of that it becomes a bit of a pain to write anything because you're always going to get comments trying to argue with you (spoiler alert: I'm not looking to convince anybody nor do I care that people on the internet think I'm wrong, so I don't debate in the comments) or that sound snobby and judgey. In the past I did write Adrien into several fics and I always got weird comments on them, and the nicest ones were along the lines of, "I'm glad you don't make Adrien a complete jerk like a lot of Lukanette writers." That's not horrible, but it's also not super encouraging. Thanks, I guess? I stopped getting those comments nearer the end too so maybe people changed their mind as the story went on. 😂 (Which is fine! A very sincere thank you to anyone who quietly stopped reading and didn't leave me anything to let me know. Totally fair.)

Honestly I had similar problems with the one true salt fic I started, where a lot of the comments were just griping about the series without actually addressing my story at all, and that's kind of a bummer for me (if anyone reading this left a comment of this type please don't feel bad, I'm not saying this to guilt you, this is all about my personal preferences as a writer and none of you are mind readers).

There are a lot of things I don't like about the series, and some that occasionally make me confused or angry enough to rant about it a little bit here or on discord. At the same time, reading constant ragging and complaining about the series just depresses me. So many salt discussions spiral into this dead end of "it's such a waste what they've done and everything is awful," and there's no where to go from there. It's not going to change, and there's nothing we can do about it, and I don't like ending up at the bottom of the pit. I do this for fun and I'd rather focus on the things I like. I will be finishing Live With It, but clearly salt just doesn't make me happy, so it's not going to become my niche anytime soon.

So ultimately my reasoning boils down to, it wouldn't be fun for me, I don't think there's a huge audience out there desperately wishing I would write one, and life's too short to read or write fic that bores you. Adrien will be just fine without me.

#adrien salt #quickanswers #quickrants #ml salt #mlb salt #chat salt

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randomthoughtsnoorder · 1 year

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A list of things I've given up some good some bad

1) hating others it's too much work live your life but don't expect me to care or get riled up.

2)music I'm not good at singing or song writing in fact I'm not the least bit creative I'll just listen and enjoy it thank you

4) trying to explain myself. I don't understand my so neither will you and we'll both survive

5) anything to do with politics. It doesn't matter in my day to day life it only causes fights and inner turmoil amongst everyone and besides nobody is ever right because if there was a right solution we could all agree on we would've found it and it wouldn't be polarizing.

6) video games I suck at them and I feel nauseated when I look at a TV for too long I only started playing so I could interact with my gamer friends more, hell if they want to hang out with me I'll be watching my local barbershop quartets or ice skating or whatever weird ADHD fixation I have that week.

7) biting my nails they bleed it hurts and it doesn't fix my anxiety at all why do I do it idk

8) apologizing for my feelings they are valid even if they don't feel valid.

9) asking others for validation because my voice in my head is chanting that everyone is going to leave me because I'm loud stupid or whatever

10) calling myself loud annoying stupid or whatever

11) keeping quiet about my wins I'm having a good day your having a bad day tough shit I care about you but I'm telling you things to be happy about even if that makes me the annoying glass half full person that needs a dose of reality we all need to hear happy things good news is so rare I'm sharing it when I have it because it's not everyday that I get to be happy but it is every day I get to hear someone complain.

12) using I'm sad as an excuse to eat carbs in excess I'm just using food to self harm and I know it I'm a diabetic it has life long consequences

14) feeling guilty when my social battery is depleted and hanging out with my family so as to not be a jerk.

15) *skipping the number three in posts lists volume ect because it just doesn't feel right. This confuses me because I don't know why I do it what did three do it didn't hurt anyone it's just a number I don't know why I'm just being mean to three.

*#15 is a joke

**three knows what it did

****the volume is always divisible by 5 or 2 it's never three but I ain't repulsed by it I just do it sometimes.

#this is me #self care #self importance

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blooming-violets · 2 years

Note

Odd-numbered questions for Five Minutes? 🌻💛 thank you sweets!

You're an absolute peach. (from this) (read Five Minutes here)

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

It was a prompt by @liz-allyn who is perfect in every single way. I knew I wanted drama and angst because, ya know, that's my jam.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

"He was so afraid if he really looked at her, he’d see her blaming him for everything." Because that's how I view tasm Peter Parker. I think he carries around everyone's guilt and pain and doesn't know how to let things go. He immediately blames himself for everything terrible that happens.

5: What part was hardest to write?

The action scenes when he's fighting the baddies. I don't think I'm very good at action scenes. I also find it weirdly hard to write about the random villains when I don't have names for them. "Guy 1" "Guy 2" just doesn't work and I never know how to go about describing Peter fighting people when there's a larger group of them.

7: Where did the title come from?

"Just close your eyes and count to 100 three times. That’s five minutes. In five minutes I will have everything taken care of and I’ll be right back to get you." *narrator voice* Peter did not, in fact, have everything taken care of and get back to her in five minutes.

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Before I wrote this, for a while I had really wanted to do a fic where Peter's girlfriend becomes paralyzed when he's trying to save her. I desperately wanted to write him thinking she was okay and to have her say the line "Peter, I can't move my legs." I was turning that idea over in my head for a few weeks before Lizzy posted that prompt. Then I basically jumped on that idea. It was supposed to end with that line but, the more I sat with it, the less I felt okay with that decision. I added the last bit to leave it with less of a cliffhanger and more wrapped up...

11: What do you like best about this fic?

...That leads me to this questions because the ending turned out to be my favorite part of the whole fic. I liked making Peter depressed and guilty and I loved making her slap some sense into him and stand up for herself.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

I don't think I listened to any music for this one but I would find a sad playlist about losing a part of yourself or drifting away from people you love or some angsty shit to go with it.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

I learned that it's hard to write Spider-Man action scenes and to not always end your fics on a cliffhanger because you're tired of tired of writing for the night.

#asks #five minutes #tasm

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svyat0s · 8 months

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Oh, Nochesvetka has called me out on FM #Iwriteso. ⠀ Question number one: in the day or the night? In the night. Or in the early morning. I generally love welcoming the dawn, not waking up to it, but not lying down. Usually it transitions. But when I write with co-authors, we write all the time we have free from outside contacts, the days with the night confuse, just drift off to sleep when we need to think. ⠀ Question number two: only by inspiration or by hard self-imposed compulsion? By inspiration only. By self-coercion, I can edit, systematize, smoke the materials, well, do tedious non-writing work. I only write by inspiration. And process literary work when the hero has spoken out and has fallen silent. ⠀ Question number three: in a train or in your personal library with candelabras? Well, now I already haven't an emonarcomanic attacks, it's experience, so now, of course, "in my personal library with candelabras", I've already arranged all sorts of writing places, a bunch of different-sized laptops, swings with a view to Dooghee and tables, a rocking chair (we stole it from the last apartment, well, not stole, we bought it, as a matter of fact!) everything everywhere is made for sitting down and working as a creative person (tm) from instagram or whatever other false images. Comfortable keyboards were bought for the laptops (I don't like these modern arthritic buttons). Now already if the hero comes in "train", I just listen to the scene, ask questions, compose it, sometimes make notes or with wild typos write in the notes of the phone or in a paper notebook (I always have one with me), write down strong phrases of a hero. Then I come to the "library with candelabra" and write down as it should be with author's accents, because I already have time to think what to highlight in a hero's story, so that it would not be a song of akin - mountain going through, mountain singing out (a Russian proverb about senseless longtelling).

Question number four: three words a day (but what words!) or 100500 letters?

I've already said sad thing about it. I need, I really want writing three words a day, at least. Because a day in which I have not written anything (fiction, because I can write 20 posts a day, but that's all trivia), I think that I have not done anything important for my life. For myself it is clear, for happiness - every day is important for me. Loved ones are near, communication with them, enjoying love - this is the meaning of life. But you know that feeling, "Well, I've been batting all day, I haven't done anything" - I always have that feeling if I haven't written at least three words. Even if I've done a lot of work, translated, finished, added something to the site, worked on work, finished scripts, made translations, edited something. All this doesn't matter. But I don't get three words. I can only get 100500. Because it pisses me off when there are some things hanging around that aren't done, but have to be done. Because you sit down to write and they'll jerk you around. And those piled up unnecessary to-dos are always there. So I envy those who manage to write three words at a time, but what words. I'd like to. But I can't yet. Maybe because it's polite. Well, for example, I don't reply to personal messages if I'm busy and can't talk to my interlocutor for a while. That's why sometimes people I know complain that they see that I'm online, responding to comments, but I don't look at my personal messages. I had to explain that a comment is non-waiting thing for a reply right now. I can leave a comment and run offline to do something. And if I post in private and a person responds right away, especially if that private is a person we're just chatting with, it's kind of weird to run away. So I first do something that doesn't require further attention, and then I come to chat. And it's the same with heroes, it's a conversation for me too. The hero is pouring out his heart to you, and you say - oh, I have a lesson, wait, you'll tell me about it later. heroes are already shy, they are embarrassed. That's why you wait until everyone is off with their business and then you sit down to write. So it turns out that I can only write 100500.

Join, who writes. It's interesting for me, to read about you

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somedaytakethetime · 9 months

Text

Continuing on with my re-writing of the Old Testament this is just a joke on the fact that I can't write short things today's edition: Inspiration Images! (part 1 of lord knows how many..)

So.. I've amassed quite a lot of inspiration images and I'm using all these writings as sort of an organisation list for what I want to (re)create for my own wardrobe. The focus today? Knitwear!

Let's start with the fancy stuff. My plan, because of my own levels of comfort, is looser fit sweaters for daily wear but I still want to have a few tight fitted "fancy" sweaters for formal things. I like to dress up for Christmas and New Year's Eve, but I'm a bitch that runs cold and because of that my plans for "fancy silky black dress or fancy silky black pants" needs to have something warm and cosy on top of it that still looks like part of the outfit.

(links: image 1, image 2)

(links: image 3, image 4, image 5 ) (side note: don't you just love how terrible old photos look in terms of quality now?)

As with everything that I've saved and will amass here: I'm not making all of these, only one or two, possibly three fancy things, but I'm undecide. Whichever I pick would be knit with long sleeves of course. And the colours I'm thinking are navy blue, black and possibly cream and off-white. Those seem well suited for the holiday seasons and they would match the idealised versions of fancy outfits in my head (black and champagne silky slinky fabrics). The bows and details I would likely do in neutral tones too that would contrast with the main colour of the body. Granted I might use fancy yarn with glitter thread running through it or something, just for a touch of whimsy and because.. I LIKE SPARKLES OKAY!?

Anyway, fancy out and basics in. Currently I own no basic coloured yarn. I have many colours, usually either bright or jewel tones, and I would need to add some creams and beiges along with actual dark neutrals to the stash. I'm not sure I'm going to use all the yarn I have either, most of it has been given to me by others and I'm just.. not into those colours... I might give them to someone else because I just don't want to spend so many hours of my life working on clothes that I have no urge to wear. But that's another problem for another time.

For the casual day wear I have some designs in mind:

(links: image 6, image 7, image 8)

(links: image 9, image 10)

(links: image 11, image 12 I have a massive crush on this blonde lady that poses for the Drops designs but shhh don't tell nobody, image 13)

(links: image 14, image 15, image 16)

Number 16 is my inspiration for this old rose sweater I'm currently working on. Number 14 I'm thinking of making in a bright cobalt blue I have and number 15 in bright green my mum has saved for decades now. Why? Those colours will definitely look better as a simple slouchy sweater. It's impossible to make them stripped because no other colour will downplay how BRIGHT they are so.. I just need to lean into being a Sesame Street Muppet.. I have plans for basic sweaters in muted shades, and a few slipovers too, granted this is where we get into my goal of knitting loungewear. I have a few ideas which will be interesting to achieve because I've never knit trousers or shorts before... but I need comfortable house clothes too.

In all what we're looking at currently is: more beige less neon (I'm going to end up either as the sad beige aunt or the moody navy aunt at the end.. it'll be a riot for my family to witness this metamorphosis from circus clown on LSD to depressed almond allergic to gluten..). More simple baggy shapes, less tight fitted things in weird stitches.

As for cardigans. Realistically? I don't need a ton. I wear them most in the winter, and I've learned they can't be tight fitted. I won't wear them if I can't wear everal layers underneath and while I love the 'cardigan as a top, tiddies easy and breezy' look I wouldn't torture myself like that in the winter.. I like my nipples were they are, they don't need to fall off... And with that in mind, here's what I'm looking at:

(links: image 17, image 18, image 19, image 20, image 21)

I'm thinking duality of making some in cotton for summer and others in wool. I get cold in the summer too so I need at least one cardigan to wear during those moments and wool? Not it. I don't wear my cardigans buttoned, I've learned that too, so in the past when I hated low v-necks? That's gone now because I prefer the look on an unbuttoned deep v-neck vs a high scoop or rounded neck. There's also these three.. I'll just link those (link 1, link 2, link 3) because in total honesty I'm not sure if I'll add these to the 'make' list or not. Link 1 and link 3 are colourwork cardigans and with 3? It's honestly just because I like her outfit and realistically how often will I wear an exact outfit like that? I can't even wear that bright white... and link 2 is a crochet cardigan. Now, I crochet so I won't ever rag on crocheted clothing, I have two crochet sweaters, but they took *ages* to make and they ate up so much yarn.. I'm just not a fan of how slow crocheting clothing is. It still looks super cute, but I just get bored quickly.

Now for my final act I've been thinking about summer too. It's too late to actually knit anything for summer now, but I want to make a few tops in cotton that I'll be able to wear during the summer. Only this year did I start wearing sleeveless and very short sleeved tops (I hate my arms, they're flabby and I have weird spots on my shoulders, not even to mention that I have a birthmark that's literally blue so it looks like a permanent bruise on my left shoulder..) and there's so many cute ones out there but I can't make everything so... narrowing down to:

(links: image 22, image 23, image 24, image 25, image 26, image 27)

I figured that number 23 I can make in a few solid colours, and maybe one or two stripped too so I don't need a ton of other designs besides that basic one. The same applies to the rest. I still need to figure out exactly how many knit summer tops I would realistically like and wear which is honestly the hardest part of all....

But for now that's it. I have so many other images and plenty of other things I need to reconsider either I'd actually make or not but I'll break that into other categories soon because it makes it easier in my brain. Next up, I'm thinking that looking at colourwork and add-ons is needed. I don't need all the beanies, scarves and mittens in the world given that I don't wear a ton of them. Plus.. socks. That I do need to make, I'm trying to make a switch to a me-made wardrobe so socks? Always a necessity. But maybe *neutral* socks now, Sunny, instead of all the neon oranges and blues you've made in the past, yeah?

#whenever you read anything i wrote remember i'm dyslexic okay?#Sunny takes a deep dive into the world of adulthood dressing #Re-writing the Old Testament with Sunny (a modern vain tale)#wardrobe planning #there's a lot of words on this one... also a lot of images.. and i had to narrow down even #granted if you knit clothes? plenty of good resources here #that is... if you have a similar style to me 😅#also the bit about calling this the Old Testament has me thinking about my current obsession:#Lilith and Eve are totally girlfriends #that's been on my mind since i saw this painting the other day of winged Lilith offering a stark birthday suited Eve the apple...#but that's totally off topic from this post so... anyway if you want to hear about lesbian ramblings come talk to me any time #and if you like clothes rambling the same applies..

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dreamhollow4219 · 1 year

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National "Write Your Story" Day [ LATE ]

I didn't realize such a thing was going on with Tumblr. I wanted to go ahead and post this while I still can, because I have no idea what the next few weeks will be like.

I'm not much of an artist, so this will be entirely written.

My name is Ian. I've been living in Virginia for my entire life.

I was born to a doting mother and a somewhat mysterious father. There is a lot about my father I never formally uncovered when my parents divorced, and I never pressed all that hard to find out. My mother used to insist that there wasn't much more to know than "he tried to grow psychedelic plants in the bedroom closet."

I find it a strange, sort of funny thing to think about now. Knowing the kind of woman that my mother was, I'm actually fairly surprised she was attracted to my father.

When I was very small I lived in Virginia Beach. I don't remember anything about that time, because it was so incredibly short. I don't imagine my family lived there for more than two or three years at best. We moved to another part of Virginia, that I'm hesitant to disclose, because I still live there and value my privacy.

My life was never entirely "normal" which is probably the reason I grew up to be such a strange person overall. I found out from an early age that I had poor vision, ADHD, and issues with my weight. I did, and still do, live in a predominantly mixed race community where the amount of light skinned people and dark skinned people are surprisingly evenly divided, if not slightly skewed towards there being more dark skinned people in the area.

I think it has been a very good thing for me. Growing up in such a diverse community where people are generally accepting of each other regardless of race has helped shape me into an accepting person who believes racial tension is not only ridiculous, but difficult to understand on a personal level. But there is some darkness from my past I would rather not share here; it's quite personal and involves some trauma I'm not ready to talk about with just anyone.

I had a handful of extremely close friends. Two of them, my neighbors, lived next to me for years. I always felt strange about our friend dynamic because I always had such a low opinion of myself, but looking back I must have been worthy of their attention and friendship to have had them keep such a vested interest in me. Though I barely talk to them now, I have shared some of the best moments of my life with them during my childhood and even some of my adult years.

I felt strangely adrift for so much of my early life. I was never especially passionate about any subject or goal in life. I suspect that it was because I was depressed- a fact that was difficult to talk about with my mother. She had a really strange perspective on mental health and often seemed like she was deeply uncomfortable with talking about things that bothered me.

A man lived with us, and for a time I basically regarded him as my 'stepfather' though he and my mother never formally married. She was his boyfriend, and he lived with us for a very long time. He had a very strict, somewhat abusive style of parenting. He and I often fought over different things because we were so vastly different ideologically. A few years before my mother had died, she eventually confronted him and kicked him out of the house for a number of reasons.

I have watched over my younger brother since we were both relatively young. He was born on the cusp of me becoming a teenager, and we've watched out for each other ever since. I did, and still feel guilty that I couldn't have done more for him when he was very young. Our mother died when he was about my age, and I was a young man.

I am no saint for taking care of my sibling. He and I have fought on multiple occasions, and my stepfather has partially warped his opinion of me forever. That is not something I can ever change. I am merely sad that I was still so emotionally stunted in my early adult years from the trauma of my mother's early death, and knowing I would have to become a parental figure at such a young age.

It was more than just my mother who had died. I experienced a devastating loss on my mother's side of the family that was difficult to comprehend. I lost my mother, my grandmother, and great grandmother within a few years of each other. My mother and grandmother's deaths were especially close together.

It shook up my family in a terrible way. My grandfather abandoned the family and became a recluse, telling my uncle that he didn't "have the strength" to keep looking after us. That really shook us.

I don't know where my uncle is now, but the last I had heard from him it seemed as though he was getting by. There were some personal issues in his life that I don't want to share here.

I never entirely shook off my deep depression but I learned to cope with it. I developed an interest in art, music, and computer engineering. I pushed myself to learn how to use DAW audiostations to make music, and I pushed myself to learn C++ in order to become a better fundamental programmer. These are skills that I value even to this day.

I know it's silly but I feel honored to have had moments in my relatively recent life where I was recognized by internet celebrities in the past. If you have heard of content creators like AceStarThe3rd and Krunkidile, I have actually played against them in Smash and Team Fortress 2 respectively.

Haha, I was barely even a challenge. Despite growing up playing videogames, I already knew I wasn't a match for them. I had always been extremely terrible at online Smash, and his video of me was fairly embarrassing. I still cringe thinking about it. My match against Krunkidile was fun, though, and I managed to least meet him halfway on some rare occasions.

Things have been very different much closer to the current day, though. I worked at a job in which I had no transportation. I was the only one physically walking all the way home from my work location to my actual house.

I was lucky then, even if I didn't know it. There was a gorgeous view of the stars and the almost mesmerizing sensation of passing through old roads through warm or chilly nights. I didn't know it then, but I lived for the moments where it felt like the heavens were shining down on me.

I've had lots of ups and downs in my life. I dated at least a couple of people that I felt a strong connection with, even if those connections eventually broke apart. I will still cherish what was there, in some capacity. I met people online, across the years, who partially shaped my personality into what it is now.

There's perhaps a lot left unsaid but I'm grateful for what good things I have experienced. I'm very proud of my brother, though I'm worried that he doesn't have a direction in his life right now. He reminds me so much of the way I used to be when I was at his age.

I can only hope that things will work out. It's how my family got this far.

#my life #my story #tumblr #dreamhollow4219

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imaginingmanyfandoms · 3 years

Text

Paul's Lullaby | part one

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"Sam?" Paul was, he was in pain. He respect Sam and Emily's privacy, but he needed to talk to Sam now.

Paul wasn't angry, he was in pain. He felt like the world had opened up and swallowed him whole. He ruined his own life, and he didn't know where else to turn.

"Paul?" Sam asked, opening the door. Emily was behind him, face covered in concern.

"I imprinted tonight," Paul said, "but she hates me. She really, really hates me."

"I'm sure it's nothing you can't fix," Sam said, ushering Emily to come closer.

"Sam, I'm not exaggerating, she told me that she hates me. In fact, she should hate me." Paul looked at his feet, but only to try and hide the distress on his face. "If anyone treated her that way I used to, I'd rip them apart."

"Paul," Emily said, reaching out. Paul flinched back.

"I don't deserve your sympathy. I just, I don't know what to do."

"Be patient. Maybe you just have to prove you're a different man now," Emily offered a sad smile, but it was the exact thing Paul didn't want. He shouldn't pitied, he didn't deserve it. He could feel his heart bruise and falter. He broke his own heart and has no clue on how to fix it.

Emily had to go back to sleep, but Sam sat up with Paul for a while longer.

When Paul finally left, it was almost two in the morning. He took off running through the woods, shifting when he knew he was hidden by the tree line. He tried to outrun the heartbreak, but obviously it didn't work.

You were sitting at your desk, staring at your computer. You wanted to work on your writing, but you were so angry at the audacity that Paul had.

You had done everything you could to avoid him the last couple years - and you managed to make it to the first day of summer after graduation. You'd run into him on the beach.

He was just such a jerk, acting like his words had no effect on anyone. Like he could just laugh behind your back and it wouldn't hurt.

But he used to tell people nasty rumours about you. Until nobody really wanted you around them. And then he had to take it that much farther, when you were both fifteen, he took you on a date, acted like he'd changed and grown. And right before he kissed you he said, "I know you fall for it."

That date alone triggered years of trust issues. You'd felt alone ever since.

Back to the beach, he was blocking the trail you needed to head down to get to work on time. You'd hoped that putting your head down and just trying to slide passed would work, but he recognized you. He tried talking to you, but you ignored him.

After taking a couple steps down the path he said, "don't be like that."

This made you look up, astounded that he would even say something like that. Until you finally looked into his eyes, and you recognized how beautiful he was. He also looked stunned, like he'd run into a glass door. He reached out to you, but recoiled, dodging his touch like he was on fire. Somehow, you'd felt even lonelier than ever.

One look at his face and you felt like you were missing something. You tried to keep your cool but you just couldn't. Tears brimmed at your eyes, and his friend Jared Cameron coughed, before walking to the water just to give you two some space.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and hesitant. Making you panic, thinking he was toying with you again.

"Stay away from me," you warned, taking a defensive step back.

That hit Paul harder in the heart than you would ever know. His soulmate, his imprint, recoiling away from him defensively. He found the person he was supposed to protect, to be needed by, and you couldn't stand the sight of him.

"Just wait a second," he begged, not moving towards you again. He didn't want to scare you.

"I hate you," you whispered, and then louder said it again. And louder again. Until you had screamed it, and the tears had taken over your cheeks. Every time you said it was an arrow to Paul's heart. He nodded, and let you turn around to run off without another word.

You didn't notice him run into the woods, followed by his friend.

You called work saying you had a personal emergency, and then went back home for the night.

Back in the present, you were tearing up at the memory of it. You were sick, you think. Addicted to red flag behaviour because there was no way you were thinking of Paul's hurt face, and feeling bad for causing it. He should feel bad for all the pain he caused.

You looked at the clock, it was almost three in the morning, but you were too caught up in all your feelings to send yourself to bed. You walked to the window, and noticed some kind of animal by the tree line. You lived in the middle of the woods, in an old cabin your grandma used to live in. You moved in when she got sick but never moved out. You liked it. It was cozy. It was private.

Finally relenting, you crawl into bed and did your best to sleep.

The next day, you were walking along the same path on the beach. You offered to cover the shift of the girl who had covered yours at such last minute.

Paul was in the same spot, but alone this time. You tried to walk passed him without acknowledging him, but something stopped you. You didn't want to see him sad again, it hurt you. And it made no sense why, you'd spent two years hating him.

You were only a few steps passed him, so you turned around, gripping the end of your sweater sleeves in each hand.

Paul had his head down, but looked up when he heard you sigh. You were standing in front of him, looking so terrified to speak to him. Paul could've started crying.

"I'm sorry about yelling at you like that yesterday," you said. "I should've just walked away so... sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said, a flash of excitement crossed his eyes, and you mistook it for something sinister. You tried to remain calm, but you were feeling lightheaded. You just couldn't trust his motives. "I deserved it."

Now that, threw you for a bit of a loop.

Fool me once, you thought.

"I still think we should just keep our distance," you said. "You kind of broke my heart."

"I'm really sorry about that, I was trying to impress the seniors. I was a tool. An idiot."

"Finally we agree on something," you said. He looked at you, and you both let out a small smile. He pushed some sand with his foot. His bashfulness made you want to believe him. "I work just up the hill. You can walk me if you want."

"Can I walk you home when you're done?" he asked, quickly falling in perfect tandem with you.

"No," you said. "But you can walk with me right now."

"I'll take it," he said.

"Why do you want to talk to me anyway? I thought you hated me," you said.

"I could never hate you," he said. "I do hate how I treated you though. Not my finest hour."

"I think your finest hour remains to be seen."

Paul stayed quiet after that. And you were oddly comfortable in the silence. You're not even sure why you invited him to come along, but some sick part of you wanted him to. You wanted to reach out and touch him. His arms just looked so welcoming, and the way he stretched his hand open and shut made you think he wanted the same thing. But you couldn't let him in, not after one day.

"Have a good shift," he said, putting his hands in his pocket.

You smiled at him ,and thanked him for walking you. When you smiled, he smiled. And you caught onto that.

Paul had been standing in the same spot every day to walk you to work. Out of curiosity, on one of your days off, you snuck close to the spot to see if he was there. And he was, leaning against the same railing, in the same spot that he waited for you everyday.

You got comfortable in a cozy little spot in the trees. You wanted to see how long he waited for you. You dozed off before you could get your question answered.

You woke up hours later, when the sun was already setting. You hated walking through the trees in the dark. You started walking on your own, but you had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. So you swallowed your pride and called someone you knew would answer.

Paul was sitting at Sam and Emily's table, enjoying the dinner she made while waiting for his turn to go on patrol. It was Jared and Quil out there now. Paul could hear Seth snoring on the couch, making him laugh. Things that used to annoy him, didn't really seem to annoy him anymore. Not since you started letting him walk you to work. He even got Sam to let him change his patrol times to make sure he could be there every day.

His phone rang, and with a mouthful of food checked the number. He almost chocked on his food when he saw your number. He answered, hitting his chest to dislodge the food.

"Y/N, hi," he said, big grin on his face as he stood up and walked outside. Behind his back, Emily and Sam shared a knowing look, and he leaned in to kiss his wife.

Paul noticed Jared sitting nearby with Kim, and didn't think too much of it with you on the line.

"This may sound stupid," you said, "but can you walk me home? I don't like to go in the dark."

"You never let me walk you home," he said.

"If this is a bad time, it's okay," you said, disappointment clear in your voice.

"No, no... where are you? I'll be right there." He stepped back inside the house to grab his shoes, but the sound of you gasping stalled his movements.

"I'm by our meeting spot," you said. His grin returned when you called it that. "It's so dumb, I wanted to see if you went there when I didn't work and fell asleep."

"You were spying on me?" he asked. You were silent on the other end and he laughed. "I'll be right there."

"Who are you?" you asked.

"Huh?"

He heard you scream, as did Sam and Emily who's cheeky glances turned to concern quickly. "Y/N?" he asked, panicked. He was already running outside, Sam on his heals.

"Jared!" Sam shouted, "Why aren't you on patrol?"

"Seth said he'd do it!" Jared yelled back. Paul dropped his phone, and shifted, running top speeds to where you said you were.

Never in his whole life had he been this scared. He could hear Jared apologizing for the mixup in his thoughts, but Paul didn't really care what he had to say. If you were hurt, Paul would die. Paul would simply die.

He needed you to be there safe.

I knew something was wrong, Embry thought. Paul didn't even see him show up. Sorry I didn't act on it.

Shut the shit up and run, dammit!

When he got to the meeting point, you were gone, but your bag was abandoned nearby. Paul sniffed it, getting your current scent memorized. He took off when he found the trail. He also smelled a retched, filthy bloodsucker. It wasn't one of the Cullens. No, this was different. And it started at the water, that's how it got passed their lines. Not that they had enough people around.

Paul howled, the pain in it was evident for anyone around. It was him saying get here, or suffer the consequences.

I don't smell their blood, Jared thought.

You don't get to talk about them. This anger didn't derive from a bad temper, it was fear. It was just fear talking.

Paul kept running, catching a fork in the scent trails. One way was Quil, Leah and the bloodsucker. And the other was you, all alone. Alone but alive. If he couldn't hear Leah or Quil think, that was a good sign. Meant that they'd changed back, and Leah would never do that unless she killed them.

Go to her, we'll find Leah. Sam nodded at Paul.

You were crying as you ran, clumsy feet stumbling over tree roots and your own blurred vision totally betrayed you. Someone had come out of the water, eyes red like rubies. And they were so pretty that you just had to look at her. Until the showed her teeth, forcing you to flee in fear. She was faster than you, but you think she was playing with you.

And then if that wasn't scary enough, when she was jumping down from a tree to kill you, a wolf jumped from the shadows and grabbed the woman. And it was her turn to flee. Another wolf jumped out, and you were sure you were a goner.

But it just chased after the other two. Leaving you alone and confused.

You stumbled back to your feet, running as fast as you could towards your cabin. You would be safe in there. Maybe. It was the best you could do right now.

You cried harder when you thought you heard more rustling in the trees. You were at your door, struggling to get your keys out and unlock the door. When you did, you slammed it shut and locked it behind you. You dove over the sofa and kept your eyes on the door, as if that's all it took to keep you safe.

Your phone was lost somewhere in the woods, but you could still hear them. Out there. Maybe it wasn't real.

There was a feverish knocking on your door, and you couldn't peel yourself away from the couch.

"Y/N! Are you in there," Paul shouted. Oh my God, thank everything, it's Paul.

"Paul, I'm coming," you struggled, fighting through your tears to answer. It killed him, but he was so happy you were okay.

You opened the door, and cried even harder when you saw his face. You couldn't hate him now, now when he came running for you. He ignored his usual boundaries and pulled you in for a hug. He was so warm wrapped around you. Your arms were still tucked into your chest. And his totally encompassed you.

"Just breath, honey," he said, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You tried to take his advice, but you couldn't focus.

"You came for me."

"I always will, you can always call me. I will always come running," he said. And you believed him.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" you asked, pushing yourself away from him enough to look up at his face. His features were uncharacteristically soft as they looked down at you.

"Of course," he said. He kissed your forehead, and you felt the instinct of pushing him away - but you ignored it this time.

"On the couch," you said.

"Sure, honey." He brushed his hands up and down your biceps, helping you take a few deep breaths. "I'm not going anywhere, don't worry."

"I don't understand what happened," you said, pushing yourself away from him. "She came out of the water, and then she..."

"It's okay," he cooed, "you don't have to say anything."

"And this doesn't change anything," you said. "I trust you with some things but not other things."

"Some things?" he asked, more amused than anything.

"I trust you with my life, not my heart."

"We'll work on it," he said, pulling you in close for another hug.

"Yeah," you agreed. "We'll work on it."

[requested] [part 2?]

I kind of love this?

#imagine #imagines #paul lahote #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote imagines #twilight #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #part 2

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

WC: 2261

Rated: M

Tags: angst, medical issues, pregnancy complications, hurt/comfort, anxiety, brief mentions of medical procedures but no gore, nothing is technically sad, fluff, papa laszloooo

A/N: honestly tho I am sorry. also i maybe cried a little writing this, which is a first. also also everybody is fine in this it's just emotional

Blame @hardlyinteresting

🧠

"Three weeks…. Three weeks little bean…" you mumble as you rub your protruding stomach after a particularly harsh kick to your ribs. The chair was a sweet relief to your ankles after a long day at work and doing some light chores around the house all afternoon. You had three weeks until you hit 39 weeks into your pregnancy. As much as you were anxious you were ready. Ready to not feel like a bloated whale. Ready to not have sore feet. But most of all, ready to hold your baby girl.

Laszlo had been trying to convince you to take it easy and start maternity leave early, but you resisted. The last thing you were about to do is nothing. Most first pregnancies went late anyway, you'd argued, so you didn't worry about it yet. I’m pregnant, not dying - give me another week, you'd told him.

What you didn't tell him was about the headaches. Or how sore your legs were. Or how absolutely exhausted you'd been feeling the last couple weeks. Whenever he would ask if you were alright or offer a foot rub you would just brush it off as third trimester woes. You didn't want to worry him.

You were sat in an armchair in the parlor, feet propped up, damp rag over your eyes. The droning from the tv had your nerves on edge. All you wanted to do was take some tylenol and feel better, but you had been knocking back more than was probably safe the last few days so you went without.

A sudden pain shoots through you causing the rag to fall onto your chest. “Ohh...ow? OW!” You sit up straighter as the ache persists; the dull throbbing in your upper abdomen unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Were you in labor early? Did she just kick in a bad spot? No no - surely the pain would’ve died down by now had that been the case. Unless? Can babies kick so hard they rupture something? Did my kid just bust my liver? Your thoughts run rampant as you wait, in vain, for the pain to go away. The pricking behind your eyes and in your temples only made it more hellish. Pressing your palm to the spot does nothing, nor do the breathing exercises you had been taught.

When five minutes have passed by without relief you make the choice to call out for your husband. “Laz?” No response. “Laszlo!” A beat passes; nothing. You swallow through your building nausea.

“I swear to fucking-” you growl as you snatch your phone from the end table to your left. You use all your concentration to dial his number.

It rings four times.

“Bärchen, why are you call-”

You don’t let him finish. “Something’s wrong.”

______

Head thrown back into the flat, starchy hospital pillow you groan in frustration. “permanent bedrest?” You scrub the hand not clutching your belly down your face.

The emergency room Obstetrician gives you a pitying look. “I’m afraid so - your blood pressure is high and we want to keep it under control to prevent outcomes such as pre-eclampsia. I recommend doing as little as absolutely possible; get rid of as many stressors as you can.” He flips through your chart. “You said you’ve been having headaches and fatigue for nearly two weeks? Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

Huffing, you tell him “I thought it was just part of the third trimester. Everyone always complains about how bad it is.” He hums in response.

“Well. I’m going to go take a final look at your labs, make sure everything else is fine before we discharge you. I’ll send in my Nurse Practitioner to give you the run down and anything else you’ll need to know. And should anything else like this happen again - get in here immediately.” He pats you awkwardly on the hand before nodding at Laszlo and leaving the room.

Laszlo.

Sparing a glance from the corner of your eye you see him looking towards his lap, his weaker hand cradled in the other. He’d been quiet since you admitted when your symptoms had first begun. Every single time he’d asked you how you were feeling you had lied to him. Granted, you didn’t technically know you were lying. But it makes little difference when you’re sitting in the ER. He had every reason to be upset.

“Laszlo honey,” you reach over to him. Slowly he takes your proferred hand and stands, coming to stop beside the bulky bed frame. His thumb caresses your wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve examined the signs, kept a better eye on you.”

“Laz-”

“-No-”

“-I didn’t want to worry you, okay?-” Your voice breaks as you defend yourself.

“-I could’ve done something, maybe- I don't know!” His slightly raised voice startles you quiet. The pain in his eyes only makes you feel guiltier. He licks his lips. “I took the liberty of calling your mother. She will be here tomorrow afternoon and will be staying in the guest room as long as we need her.”

Now you look away, indignant. “I don’t need to be watched like I’m a child.” The tears behind your eyelids rush in; a lone drop trailing down your cheek as the embarrassment settles within your gut. You knew that at some point it was likely you would need her here. However you imagined it to be under happier circumstances. A deep inhale fails to calm your sobs. “I just- I don’t want to be a burden with all this.” Your tears flow freely now.

“My dear you could never be.” Laszlo sits on the edge of the bed. He rests his right palm above the swell of your child, his left cupping along the curve of your jaw. He tilts you to face him. “But the health of you and our girl is what is most crucial now. Let us take care of you. Please.”

A gentle kick underneath his palm from your daughter is answer enough.

__________

Two weeks. 14 days.

Lying in bed, sitting in the same spot for hours on end was actually going to be the death of you. You were sure of it.

Your mother truly has been a huge help since arriving. Laszlo wanted to start his paternity leave, but you insisted that he stay until you were closer to your due date. Which couldn’t come fast enough, you might add. Both Laszlo and your mother were prone to pestering you about some things, but at other times if you truly wanted to be alone they gave you your space. Now was one of those times. Laptop to your side, you watch another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A knock sounds. You turn to see your husband standing in the doorway, the blood pressure monitor in arm.

He gives you a bright smile. “How are you two on this fine afternoon?”

“Cut it with the attitude, bucko. Let’s get this over with.” The words, while harsh, had little bite to them. His brow raises but he says nothing. You honestly felt bad that you’d been in a pretty foul mood since being discharged. On more than one occasion you’d said as much to Laszlo and your mother - they didn’t deserve your ire. Thankfully they understood why you were so frustrated.

You held the strap in place as he secured the velcro and started the machine. Buzzing filled the overall quiet room. Closed eyes you wait. Some days your results were higher than others. Unless you became higher than a certain threshold the doctor said you were safe to be home. At the sound of a beep Laszlo unhooks the cuff, reporting that your levels are within the acceptable range. When he goes to leave you alone you clutch at his sleeve. He waits as you peer up at him. “Stay?”

He never could say no to you.

______

Little bean’s ruthless treatment of your bladder had you up for the second time that night. You waddled to the bathroom to attend to your business and wash your hands. Glancing at the circles under your eyes in the mirror you sigh. “I love you baby bean but you’re giving me a run for my money here, kid,” you whisper as you rub your stomach. Three days, you remind yourself.

The floor creaks as you shuffle back to bed. Suddenly, an odd warm trickling sensation travels down your legs. “What the fuck?” Looking down around your bulging bump you find yourself standing in a small puddle, the glint of the bathroom night light reflecting off the surface. “Shit okay…ah Laszlo? Hey, I need you to wake up.”

He grumbles. With a roll of your eyes you walk over and shake him awake. “Hey- what-” he sits up instantly and blinks at you. “Is everything alright?”

“My water broke.”

He hops into action right away. Moving you to sit on the bed, he pulls out his cell phone to call your doctor. As he talks you watch him move around the room, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, as he collects your hospital supplies. You feel useless as you sit. Yet, you know that your priority needs to be keeping yourself calm and that moving around could exacerbate your condition.

He hangs up. Coming to stand in front of you he presses a kiss to your forehead; “I’ll go wake your mother. Don’t move, Liebling.”

As you sit you blow out a long breath. You look down at your bump. “Guess you decided you’re ready to go, huh kid?” The tip of your fingers brush along the side of your stomach. “I know we’re ready for you too. We’re going to love you so much, and your daddy? He’s gonna be the best, you’ll see.” Placing your palms flat she nudges you from within.

_____

The doctors decided that a c-section was the safest route. You both knew it was a possibility, but you had hoped that after weeks of bedrest that your blood pressure would balance out enough for a natural delivery. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They monitored you for an hour before your contractions began, officially confirming you were in fact in active labor and dilating. After the fourth hour your blood pressure began to spike again. That’s when they decided to prep you for the procedure.

The operation went smoothly. The atmosphere of the surgical suite was tense with your nerves, but Laszlo’s calming words and his hand squeezing yours kept the anxiety from spilling over. You even found it in you to poke fun at how ridiculous he looked in the puffy blue elastic hair cap he wore.

When the first cries rang out you nearly tried to hop off the table to see your baby. The doctors worked quickly to ensure you were in proper condition while the infant was cleaned.

“Dad? Would you like to come and cut the cord?” one of the nurses calls out.

Laszlo looks back at them before turning to face you. He searches your eyes for a moment; “go,” you nod with a smile. You watch as he did what the nurses instructed as best you could, her soft wails echoing in the small room. He returns to you right after while they finish wrapping her up in a blanket.

“She’s beautiful my dear,” your professor confesses. He leans to give you a lingering kiss. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.”

The doctor interrupts your moment. “Would you like to hold your baby girl?” The question is directed at you, but you look over to your husband. The man you love more than life itself. He stares at the little bundle as if she’s the most incredible sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He can’t take his gaze off her. His irises sparkle with unshed tears as he looks on with wonder.

“Laz?” Finally he breaks away. “Hold your little girl - she’s been waiting to meet her Papa.”

Carefully the doctor shifts his hold on the babe to slide her into Laszlo’s waiting arm. He swallows as he pulls her to his chest. Something caught between a sob and a laugh leaves him. You blink through your own tears at the sight of your husband and daughter, a sight so far beyond perfect there could be no words. Laszlo held her with such delicacy, such reverence. It was as if any moment she could slip away as though a dream.

“Hello there my little dove, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.” He doesn’t bother to wipe away the streams that fall from his eyes. “I’m your Papa and I-” he sniffs, looking towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. You rest your hand on his bicep. “I love you so very much. I would give you the world if I could. Your grandfather didn’t...he was not....” he pauses to gather himself. “To me you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I will be the best father I can for you. A father worthy of you. Mein Gott, Ich liebe dich my darling dove.”

He continued to hold her in his arms until it was time to take you into the recovery room. When he had asked if you wanted her you simply shook your head. You would get your chance, you had a lifetime to do so. But your Laszlo needed this. He needed his little dove.

Tag list

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chelsgal1993 · 2 years

Note

Hello, I saw that your requests are open and I have some I want to share, I’m going to focus on one though because I know you work slowly and I don’t want to rush you! (I also work slow and I had a lot of people rush me, it doesn’t really feel nice). You’ll be seeing me again soon!

How about a fluffy Mirio x reader (if you don’t want to write for Mirio that’s fine just ignore this, it’s okay!) the reader is a first year and met Mirio when he was teaching class 1A about work studies! After that Mirio and the reader kept in touch cuz they had a lot in common with each other. Eventually Mirio developed a crush on the reader but had to leave U.A to become a pro!

But Mirio still visit the reader and turns out she and alongside Izuku and bakugou (or Todoroki if you don’t want it to be angry boom boom man) became the new Big Three in U.A! How do you think he would react.

This could be head cannons or a one shot! What ever works best with you! Thank you!

A/n: Okay! I normally write yandere or NSFW so this is new for me! But I am happy I got the request! So here it goes! Also, sorry it took forever!

You remember meeting Mirio your first year at U.A. Boy, did you see way more than you expected. When he popped out of the floor right in front of you in all his glory you were not only caught off guard but, he also beat you to a pulp. It was a good lesson for you. You learned some things:

1. Don't let your guard down.

2. Always expect the unexpected.

3. The boy was packing.

All that aside you really felt you could learn a lot from Mirio. So when he offered to train with you on weekends you gladly gave him your number. You both became fast friends. It was a sad day when he graduated but, you were so happy for him!

When you became one of the new big three you just had to tell him.

"Mirio, guess what, " you say over the phone.

"Um.. Chicken butt, " he says laughing.

"What? No, " you chuckle in return.

"You sound super excited whatever it is. Oh! How about we meet for lunch and you can tell, " he exclaims.

"Aw! I wanna tell you now, " you say whining.

"I'll take you to that one restaurant you want to try, " he says. You can hear the smirk in his voice. He knew he could always tempt you with food.

"Ugh, fine, " you say.

"Great, I will pick you up in an hour, " he says.

An hour had almost passed and you had just finished getting ready. There was a knock on your door. You open the door to see Bakugou leaning on your door frame. You roll eyes and let him.

"I was going to go train with kirishima. I was going to ask of you wanted to join us but looks like you have other plans," he says fold his arms across his chest.

"I do. Mirio is taking me out to lunch. I am going to tell him," you are cut off mid sentence.

"Its about damn time you tell him ypu like him," Bakugou says.

"What? No! I am telling him I a

Part of the big 3," you say as you smack Bakugous arm.

You open the door to your room and see Mirio standing there about ready to knock.

"Oh! Was I interrupting something," he asks wiggling his eye brows.

"Ew! No way. Angry boom boom boy just came to see if I wanted to train," you say.

"Yep. Now I am leaving. I have better things to do than watch her try and flirt," he says walking past you. You roll your eyes and shut and lock your door.

You 2 exit the campus and get to the restaurant making idle chit chat along the way. Once you both order there was a silence.

"So... are you and Bakugou," mirio starts.

"Oh gosh no," you exclaim throwing your hands in front of you waving them.

"Oh! Well thats good," he pauses for a moment. "You know I would hate to over step any boundaries especially with someone else's girlfriend," he says trying to play off the fact he was relieved.

"Right," you say looking at him oddly. Not fully understanding what was going on.

"So what did you want to tell me," he says taking your hands. Oh it was hard to concentrate and form words now.

"Oh so it's a really big announcement," you say. Mirio is holding his breath. "I am in the big 3," you say with a huge smile.

"Oh... thats great," its not exactly what he had been hoping for. I mean it was exciting news but he was hoping for something more.

"W-whats wrong? I thought you would be excited for me," you say.

"What? I am! Its exciting," he says picking g back up his cheerful demeanor. He pulls his hands away and places one hand in front of him and the other rubs the back of his head as he smiles.

"Hey, whats wrong," you ask as you grab hold of the hand on The table. He was acting weird today.

"Look, I want to tell you something," he says with a sigh. Just then the food arrives. You let go of his hand as the waiter sets the food down.

"What did you want to tell me," you ask him.

"Lets talk about it after we eat," he says.

You nod and you both eat again making idle chit chat. You could only wonder what was bothering him So much. You figured he would be happy you made big 3. He helped train you a lot. It took a lot to beat todoroki for that spot. After lunch he paid for it and you both walked out. Both a little unsure of what to say.

"So Thanks for lunch," you say as you near campus. That when you ran into Nejire and Tamaki. "I will see you later i guess," you give an awkward wave as you leave.

You see Bakugou and Kirishima walking back from The gym. They ea h sling an arm over you.

"Whats with the sour mood," Bakugou asks picking up on it right away. You suppose there was a reason he was your best friend after all.

"I told him I made big 3 but he seemed disappointed. Like I don't understand i thought he would be excited. It took a lot to beat Todoroki for that spot," you say solemnly.

WITH MIRIO, Nejire and Tamaki

"So did you tell her? Was she happy? Are you guys finally dating now," Nejire asks.

"No," mirio says looking down sadly. "I didn't tell her. She wanted to tell me she made big 3 and I think I ruined her moment. Oh man! I probably made her feel really bad," he said rubbing his head. He felt really unsure of what to do.

"M-mirio, you need to tell her before its to late," Tamaki says.

"What if she doesn't feel the same? What if she doesn't want to be friends after I confess," Mirio asks. His friends had never seen him So unsure of himself. So Tamaki did what any best friend wouldd do.

"You need to go tell her right now! If you can't form the words just kiss her. She will understand. As for her not liking you I don't think you need to worry about that. If you don't take the chance now you may never get the chance to tell her. Now go," Tamaki exclaims pushing friend towards the 3 of you leaving.

Mirio stumbles a bit but then takes off running towards you.

Back with you

"(Y/n), wait," you hear mirios voice. "I want to tell you... what I have been trying to tell you for a while now," Mirio trails off and kind of goes quiet.

"Mirio, are you okay? You haven't been acting like yourself today," you say.

"Hey! We're going to head up see you in a bit. I think it would be better if we left. Come on kirishima," he says giving Mirio a nod as they left.

"I... its just that... I l... I... ugh," he says stumbling over words. He finally grabs your shoulders and kisses you. You feel your heart flutter and you are to shocked to react. When he pulls away he has a sad smile on his face.

"I'm sorry I just couldn't put in words. I guess you don't feel the same huh," he says rub in the back of his head. "I am just gonna go he says pointing to leave," he says pointing to leave and then swiftly turns around. The tears want to bring. His eyes but he won't let them. You were the first girl he can honestly say he really like.

As he is leaving you quickly grab hold of his arm hugging it. You look up at him.

"I like you too Mirio. I have for a long time," you say hugging his arm and looking at him. His face is shocked as he looks at you but it quickly changes into a huge smile.

"Really? You really like me," he asks like he has to confirm what he just heard. You nod and giggle. He quickly grabs you bringing you into an embrace and swings you around before he kisses you again.

"Its about damn time," you hear someone yell from above. You look up to see Bakugou was the one who yelled but all of your class is cheering.

"Oh and I kind of ruined your moment but congratulations on making big 3! We should do something to celebrate. Name it. Anything and we will do it," he says smiling and you can't help but smile back.

#my hero academia #mha mirio #bnha mirio #mirio x y/n #mirio x reader #mirio fluff #mirio togata

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 3 years

Text

seeing someone else.

BISHOP LOSA. MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @encounterthepast: Hello lovely Aurora, can I request angst prompt number 7 with Bishop please, thank you, 💕

❝ prompt: “Don’t you dare to lie to me again”.

❝ request by @arveeee: Hello my dear, so I was thinking, and there is one sentence to that can't go out of my head. So it is: "let me in" with Bishop (I know I'm boring). Well I believe in you, I love you , and I love your writing. Say hello to Arya.

❝ request by anon: Hi, Aurora. I love your writing sm 🥺 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with my man Bishop? I was thinking of something like the reader and him being in kinda like a friends with benefits situation, but she decides to break it offf because she’s really upset. And maybe Bishop doesn’t understand so she eventually explains to him that she wants more out of their relationship and he reassures her they are more and they always have been? Maybe leads to like soft/romantic smut? Thanks so much!

❝ request by @meteora-fc: hello hello! so, that new trailer huh?😵 would absolutely love if you could write me something for a stressed out bishop with the prompts "Stop ignoring me, it’s driving me crazy!" and "Let me help you make it better." Thank you tons!!💖

❝ words: about 1.4k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

Another tequila shot goes down your throat, ripping it off as you almost smash the small glass on the table. Tossing your head back as you rest your back against the sofa, sitting on the floor, you take a look around you. The gloomy has taken over your house as the night has fallen a couple of hours ago. It's the fourth night you are trying to forget about Bishop and whatever you two had. But you can't dismiss from your mind his caresses —his fingers drawing patterns on your back, his lips touring your neck with delicate kisses as if he was afraid of breaking your skin, his mustache tickling your inner thighs, his raspy voice articulating your name in moans. It's the fourth night miserably failing, remembering the last time you spent together, the way he was holding his back pretending he wasn't sad because you were leaving him.

“Obispo, it's over. Don't make a big deal. We're just friends who occasionally fucks”. You scoffed somewhat annoyed because of him and his interrogation, but how could you tell him you were falling in love with him?

“I ain't making any deal, (Y/N). I just want to know what made you change your mind and keep a wide berth”.

“I'm seeing someone else”.

"Don't you dare to lie to me”. He growled, taking a step closer towards you with the intention of stopping you from picking up and packing the less stuff you had in his house.

“Think what you want”. You replied, rolling your eyes.

The first tear flows in the left corner of your mouth not appreciably at first, but then, some more until finding yourself crying. You miss him so much. You miss watching him sleep peacefully in the small hours, drifting slightly when you caress his cheek using your fingertips. Flexing your knees to your chest, you wrap your arms around trying to contain the loud sobs, hiding your face between them. How have you been so stupid to fall for him like that? The two of you made it clear from the very first moment. Friends with benefits. But after a couple of weeks, you started to notice that he used to push away any other woman that it wasn't you, he didn't spend much time in the clubhouse preferring to do it in your house —cuddling, watching movies, playing poker; kissing every single inch of flesh covering your anatomy.

Reality hit you the moment he murmured something like you're a miracle, thinking you were calmly sleeping between his strong arms and your back stuck to his chest, no distance among your bodies. You knew it was a thing produced by the alcohol running through your veins and it wasn't fair for you to fantasize about the idea he was catching feelings for you. So you just ran away, like a coward.

Some clumsy knocks on the front door of your house bring you back to reality. At first, you try to ignore them. It's not like you're in the mood for visits, knowing that probably it's Leti at the other side of the place, worried because you haven't replied to her text all day. But she insists and insists. And you know how stubborn she can be sometimes. Serving yourself another shot and drinking it in just one gulp, because you're too sober to endure another of her Ted talks about positivism and what he has lost, you stand up on your bare feet. Everything around you spins dizzyingly for a second until you can react, feeling every knock like a hammer hitting your brain.

“I've heard you the fi—”.

Opening the door to receive her, your vocals get frozen as you face Bishop in a deplorable drunk state. Just like you are.

“Let me in”. He barks, not being able to look at your eyes, trying to pass you away to the inside, but you stop him.

“Go home, Obis—”.

“I'm home, shut the fuck up”. He frowns taking a sip from a bottle of whisky you haven't noticed till now. “You think you can kick my fuckin' ass outta your life by saying you're seeing someone else? You think I'm fuckin' stupid, queri— Were you crying…?”

From anger, his tone of voice falls to one lower and lower, as the concern and the worry cover his annoyance completely. Throwing away his drink to somewhere over the grass of your yard, he holds your face onto his palms. His touch causes you to tremble. His warm touch causes you to break into aching sobs, panting as you can't breathe properly. All this time you've been thinking you have missed him, but you didn't have a real idea of how it feels until his fingers have been laid on your wetted skin.

Bishop comes closer to you, touching the tip of your nose with his. You can smell the mixed scent of cigarettes and whisky emanating from his cracked lips, it doesn't bother you, tho. “Don't kiss me, please”.

Until this precise moment, he has loved your begs and pleads to his bones, but now he hates them more than anything he could ever hate in his life. It breaks his heart. He can't deal with your rejection one night more.

“Why…? Why can't I kiss you?” He asks desperately at the edge of his tears. “Please, stop ignoring me, it's driving me crazy. I can't even take care of my own shit without you by my side”.

Your knees feel weak at his words, still believing he only says that because you're just a good lover, the best in the sheets, as he told you once.

“I… I…” You babble nervously, trying to not place your hands on the laps of his leather kutte to finally push him into the needed kiss you've been craving for the last four days. “I love you”.

And why the confession doesn't take him by surprise? Why doesn't he look confused? Why does it seem like he already knew it? Bishop can't help but draw a fleeting grin across his face.

“Do you think I came here, falling into pieces, just because it feels like being in Heaven when I'm deep inside you?” He whispers, clicking his tongue slightly. “I didn't believe you when you told me you were seeing someone else. But the minimal thought I could have about it made me lose the less sanity I have”.

You blink stupefied at his own confession about his feelings. Your fingers tour his abdomen up in slow motion, starting to have some faith in his words.

“Mi amor…” Bishop mumbles in soft giggles shaking his head. “I adore you, mi amor. I don't want anything else than to share my life with you, and only with you”.

He doesn't wait for a signal from you to kiss your lips, he just takes what it's his. And you can't hold back a painful gasp, expelling in it all the sorrow you've been carrying for the last four days being separated from him. Your hands grip his shirt in two fists, pushing him as much closer as the two of you can be, about to melt in the same figure. All this time you have been trying to not love him, to forget him; and you were just delaying the inevitable. You are made for each other, that's a fact. Your lips fit to perfection —your bodies, your hearts.

“Tell me you love me”. You whimper against his mouth, causing him to smile because of your need of making it real by these simple three words.

“Love isn't enough to express what you make me feel”.

Bishop bends down without prior notice to wrap his huge hands on the back of your thighs, urging you to jump onto him and surround his waist with your legs. You haven't forgotten how good his warmth takes over you when he holds you like that, walking inside your house and kicking the door close. Guiding his steps across your place and its hallways, he reaches your dark dorm barely illuminated by a post light outdoors. He lies you down on your bed —a bed that has welcomed you for the last eight months in every kind of state. Drunk, tired, happy.

Now, you're a mix of them. Drunk in tequila, tired of crying, but happy for having him back for the rest of your life.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221 @littlekittymeow @tenderclio @badame1240 @regalbanshee @greeneyedblondie44 @phoenixhalliwell @codenamewife

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc #bishop losa #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x reader #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa

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