#I added a link to my wattpad on the off chance you’d like to see more of my writing

[space-pot8o]

Inspired by a post by @toedenandbackagain

The advertisements were how they found each other, every once in a while, when the world changed too quickly. The newspaper was the only form of media to remain consistent. There was just too many ways to communicate now, Crowley thought. He’d had a hand in creating the internet, and now the humans were so invested even he could barely keep up with it.

Of course, he had a cell phone, but Aziraphale didn’t. He’d already tried the bookshop’s landline to no avail. It was like the angel was allergic to any technology made after the mid-nineteenth century.

He paid the man at the newspaper stand, scooping up a paper and opening it to the personal adverts as he wound through the crowd. He barely needed to pay attention to where he was going; people just seemed to veer out of his way.

Halfway down the page, he found what he was looking for.

Angel will be feeding ducks at St. James’ Park on Monday at 10am. Company would be appreciated.

“Found you,” Crowley muttered. Or at least, he hoped. The last time he’d been wrong, it had been the most awkward of situations. It was… well, let’s just say there was a reason Crowley didn’t respond to adverts that fit his physical description anymore. Or those looking for an ‘evening companion’, as much as that sounded like a term Aziraphale would use. No, he only responded to ones that specifically said ‘Angel’ now. Less chancy.

Crowley glanced at his watch, the shimmery dark face reading quarter to ten.

“Perfect,” he murmured, snapping the newspaper shut and tucking it under his arm. Aziraphale might like to read it, he supposed. He also supposed that perhaps he should stop talking aloud to himself so much.

Thirteen minutes later, Crowley arrived at St. James’ Park. In the distance, on the bench where they usually met, sat a prim figure with a shock of light hair and a cream colored jacket. One side of his mouth drew back in a grin as he sauntered over, keeping his eyes on the ducks in the pond as he came up beside the bench.

“That one was a bit obvious, don’t you think, angel?”

“It’s Angela, actually.”

Crowley froze, turning to look at the person sitting on the bench, who was not in fact Aziraphale but instead an old lady with pinned up white curls and a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

“Oh, I suppose I must have mistyped it when I was sending it into the newspaper. I just can’t get the hang of these computers.”

Crowley blinked, glancing around uncomfortably as the shock began to pass.

“I think I’ve answered the wrong advert,” he said, taking a step backwards.

“Oh,” the lady said, her face falling a bit. “Well you’re here, would you like to feed the ducks with me, anyway?”

Crowley hesitated. As disappointed as he was that it wasn’t his angel, there was something compelling about her.

“Well alright, I suppose,” he heard himself say as he sank down onto the bench beside her.

“Here you go, dear,” she said, handing him a chunk of bread from the bag beside her. He accepted it as she threw a handful of crumbs into the water.

“My best friend Peggy just passed away, you see, and feeding the ducks used to be a regular outing for us, especially as we got older. I only put the ad in the paper because I don’t have too many friends left and I’m just at such a loss without Peggy.”

She gave Crowley a sideways glance.

“It seems to me you feel the same way without whoever you meant to meet here, your angel, considering how disappointed you were to find me instead.”

Crowley gave a noncommittal shrug, shifting uncomfortably. She was right, of course, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“The ducks seem to like you though, don’t they?” Angela continued. “Do you come here often dear? I swear they remember faces. They would certainly remember Peggy every time, though I think she was coming here to feed them long before we started coming together.”

She threw a bit more bread in the water.

“Oh, that reminds me.” She reached for her bag. “Would you like a sandwich, dear?” I brought an extra, it was always for Peggy, she was always running around and I swear she would never stop to eat unless I made her.”

She pulled out a paper-wrapped square, which Crowley accepted reluctantly. He would have refused, but there was something in the woman’s eyes that warned him against fighting too hard.

He unwrapped the paper, revealing a ham and cheese sandwich on good homemade bread. He took a bite to be polite, and Angela smiled.

“There’s a good boy. You’re quite a skinny one, aren’t you? You remind me of Peggy’s husband when he was young, only you’re much taller. Of course, that was before the war.” She trailed off, tossing another handful of bread to the eager ducks.

Crowley took another bite of the sandwich, surprising himself. Usually Aziraphale was the only one who could get him to eat.

“I just realized I never got your name, dear,” Angela said, turning back to look at him.

“Anthony,” he replied after a moment, deciding Crowley would be too hard to explain. “Though not many people call me that.”

“Oh yes,” Angela replied. “I know how that is. My given name is Angela, but I’ve never met someone who didn’t call me Angie instead.”

Crowley nodded. Nicknames were such a human thing, he thought. You have one name but everyone just calls you something else.

“Some people have called me Tony,” he said slowly, trying not to show his distaste. “You could call me that instead.”

Angie glanced over, her eyes shrewd.

“You don’t strike me as a Tony,” she replied. “Anthony suits you just fine, I think.”

Crowley relaxed a bit at her words.

“One of Peggy’s friends had a son named Anthony,” Angie continued. “Now he was someone better suited as a Tony. I always felt the name Tony was meant for a troublemaker, but that doesn’t seem like you at all. But young Tony, he can’t seem to stay out of trouble. I think he does it on purpose. No, you’re much too polite to be a Tony.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Where had this woman been for the last six thousand years? Under a rock? Crowley, polite. What a concept. Though, he supposed, Aziraphale would likely agree with her.

“My angel keeps telling me I’m a good person,” he said, tossing some bread into the pond. “I’m not inclined to believe it, though.”

“Why ever not?” Angie replied. “You seem perfectly nice to me.”

Crowley did his best to ignore the uncomfortable prickle her words sent over his skin.

“My job… it requires me to do some things, that most people would agree, do not make me a nice person.”

Angie was silent for a moment.

“And it’s not like I hurt anyone, of course not,” Crowley continued. “I just… inconvenience them.”

“Does it bother you?”

“What?” He jerked his head up.

“Does it bother you,” Angie repeated, “That you do these things? That some people might think you’re bad?”

Crowley blinked, truly stumped for the first time in four hundred years.

“I mean, it’s my job,” he replied. “It’s who I am.”

“Oh, psh,” Angie replied, waving her hand. “I can’t even count anymore the number of times I’ve had this very conversation with Peggy. Her job always had her doing these questionable, dangerous things. I’m not sure her employers cared about the means as long as she got to their end. It wore on her, too. But you are not defined by your job, you are defined by what you care about. Now I’ll ask you again, does it bother you?”

“I suppose it bothers me that I don’t feel like I live up to my angel’s view of me,” he admitted. And it was true. He never felt as good on the inside as Aziraphale seemed to think he was.

“Well then, there you are. Bad people, truly bad people, don’t care about being better. So from what you’ve just told me, that proves you’re not a bad person.

Crowley froze again as her words washed over him. Never, in all his time on earth or in hell, had he ever considered that. He still wasn’t inclined to believe her, but she said it with such conviction that he couldn’t help but wonder if it was true.

Angie glanced at him again, her gaze shrewd but soft.

“Surely if that’s what I see, your angel sees it too.”

It was all Crowley could do to nod.

They sat together a while longer, Angie telling stories about the trouble she and Peggy got into after the war. Crowley nodded and made the appropriate remarks required for polite conversation, and he found himself actually enjoying her stories.

All these years, he’d never bothered to connect with a human. They seemed so dull, and their lives were over so quickly. He hadn’t thought it was worth it. Besides, he had Aziraphale and that friendship was plenty for him.

About an hour later, their stock of bread was finally depleted. The ducks, of whom a great number had congregated on the water before them, began to disperse once they realized the supply of treats had run dry.

Angie dusted off her coat, watching the ducks swim away with a sigh. Crowley glanced at her, but her gaze was fixed across the pond somewhere in her memories.

“I know I wasn’t who you were hoping to meet,” she told him. “But I am glad to have met you. You’ve made me feel a bit less lonely just when the world was starting to seem big and empty. Thank you, Anthony, truly.”

He shifted in his seat.

“Well I suppose… well, I could meet you here again. If you’d like.”

“I would,” Angie said, her blue eyes misty as she gave him an enormous smile. “Same time next Monday?”

Crowley gave her a nod, stretching out his legs as she stood.

“Goodbye, Anthony. See you then.”

He watched her totter off down the path until she was out of sight, then turned back towards the water. What an odd turn of events, he thought. What she’d said to him ran through his mind as he sat there, waiting to see if perhaps his angel would still show.

For the next seven Mondays, without fail, Crowley would meet Angie at the park to feed the ducks and listen to stories about her life. She enjoyed talking about her adventures with her friend Peggy more than anything, which Crowley was surprised to find sounded a lot like some of his adventures with Aziraphale; In particular, one dicey evening involving a church, some German spies, and a few rare books.

One morning, on the eighth Monday in fact, Crowley was early. He sat on their usual bench, waiting for Angie to appear around the corner, when he felt a presence beside him. He turned his head slightly to the right, just enough to see a flash of cream coat, and his mouth tugged into a grin.

“Hello, Angie,” he said, turning his eyes back to the pond.

“Hello, my dear Crowley.”

Crowley froze. He knew that voice, and it certainly wasn’t Angie.

“Trying out a new nickname, are we?”

He whipped his head around to see Aziraphale standing there, looking ethereal in the morning light.

“Er, no,” he replied. “What are you doing here?”

“I was walking by and I saw you sitting alone. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, angel,” he replied, the words coming out a bit harsher than he intended. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t really want to tell Aziraphale about Angie.

“Alright,” Aziraphale replied, his face falling the tiniest bit. “I’ll leave you be. I’ll be at the bookshop later, if you feel like catching up. Perhaps we can get a bite to eat.”

“No wait, I’m sorry, you don’t have to go,” Crowley straightened abruptly, catching Aziraphale’s sleeve.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to disturb you.”

“Sit down, angel.”

Aziraphale took a seat beside him, settling in as he always did.

“Are you quite sure you’re alright?” He asked again, glancing at Crowley worriedly.

“I’m fine, I told you. I just come here sometimes to¬—”

“Anthony! There you are.

Crowley’s adrenaline spiked again as he turned to see Angie making her way up the path towards them.

“I see you’ve brought a friend today. I wish you would have warned me so I could have made an extra sandwich. Here’s yours, by the way— honestly, do you live on air, Anthony? You’re still so skinny.”

She paused for breath and handed him the paper wrapped sandwich.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Angie,” she said as she took her seat on his left, reaching out her hand to Aziraphale.

He shook it, his expression still dumbfounded as he glanced back and forth between the two of them.

“Angie, this is my friend, Aziraphale,” Crowley told her.

“A.Z. Fell? Oh, you own that lovely little bookshop in Soho, don’t you? I’ve been meaning to stop in there for ages, but it never seems to be open when I drop by.”

Crowley could sense Aziraphale relaxing at the mention of the bookshop, and he let out a quiet breath of relief.

“Here you go, Anthony dear, I daresay these ducks have waited long enough,” she said, handing him a chunk of bread.

He threw some in the water, handing a piece to Aziraphale as well.

“Oh, here comes that swan again,” she told him, throwing bread in the opposite direction from where the white monstrosity was silently gliding towards them.

Aziraphale tossed his crust of bread towards it, and the giant bird slowly began to sink. He jabbed Crowley in the side with his elbow, and the swan resumed bobbing on the surface.

“You know, two weeks ago that naughty bird came right up and stole my bread bag right out of my hand. Anthony jumped right up and tried to get it back, and the poor dear almost fell in the pond! It was quite a sight, though, to see him fighting a swan in the middle of St. James’ park.” She let out a laugh. “But he’s always doing such nice things like that, he chased my hat when it flew away and he’s always helping me around puddles and such.”

Crowley sank a bit lower in his seat, his ears reddening as he saw a small smile of amusement on Aziraphale’s face.

“Cr—Anthony is such a nice person, I tell him all the time but he doesn’t believe me,” Aziraphale replied, casting a kind look at Crowley, who was presently trying to sink through the bench and the ground and down to somewhere he could escape this embarrassment.

He shot an irritated look at Aziraphale, who simply smiled back.

“Oh that reminds me, Anthony, I brought this for you,” Angie said, reaching into her bag to pull out a long, cream colored scarf. “It’s getting colder every day and you’re all skin and bones, you must get dreadfully cold and I don’t want you getting sick.”

Crowley took the scarf, reluctantly looping it around his neck. Aziraphale’s amused smile returned as Crowley shot him a look— one he knew the angel would understand even if he couldn’t see his eyes, that dared him to say anything about it.

Of course he wouldn’t get sick, but he wasn’t going to tell Angie that, nor was he going to hurt her feelings. She continued telling stories and Crowley began to relax as Aziraphale joined in the conversation. He smiled, thankful that the worst of the awkwardness had passed. He threw a handful of bread to the ducks, only half paying attention to the conversation for a few minutes until Angie leaned forwards a bit towards Aziraphale, reaching over to pat his perfectly manicured hand.

“I’m so glad he finally brought you to meet me, my dear. Of course, he’s told me so much about his angel I feel as though I know you already.”

Crowley’s eyes widened behind his glasses. He didn’t dare look at Aziraphale, though he was sure the angel’s smile mirrored Angie’s.

“Ngh,” he said, crossing his arms and shifting uncomfortably, wishing very much in that moment that he was elsewhere.

“Oh, you’re just like Peggy,” Angie chastised. “She was always so easy to rile. Very well, I’ll leave it alone if only so you stop looking like you’re trying to hide inside yourself. Here, feed the ducks some more.” She handed him another piece of bread, which he accepted.

“But really, Mr. Fell, you’ll have to tell me more about this knitting club. I could always use more good friends like Anthony.”

Aziraphale obliged as Crowley sat and listened, nodding and replying every once in a while as would be polite in a conversation between friends. The three of them sat happily on that sunny Monday morning and fed the ducks, as they did on every Monday that came after.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 13: Last Dance

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which there’s a masquerade ball.

Word count: 3.5k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N aka Peach)

A/N: 

GUYS, TRUST ME! LISTEN TO THIS WHILE READING

Also, if you've read my other stories, please let me know in my inbox:

which genre do you think I write better at? 

Contemporary romance (Flatmate, My Girl), or Fantasy romance/Historical romance (TCTM, In Another Life), or Fantasy/mystery with romance as a side plot (TCTM2)?

Thank you! :)

Love, Allie.

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Harry had sat by the window from when the sun started setting. He watched the shadow at his feet dissolve into blackness, until the stars came out and pallid moonlight washed over the room.

A maid came to light a fire. She asked if he needed anything. He gave her no response, just a flick of his wrist to dismiss her. He could feel her eyes sweep over him as she left. He didn’t care. He knew what the servants in the castle had been whispering about him. People always had a lot to say when they only knew half the story. Which was why Harry hadn’t spoken to anyone since he’d come back. Not even Kenny and Stefan, whom he’d known his whole life. They could sympathise. However, they would never truly understand what he’d gone through.

Though the lake had obliterated all the scars on his skin, he could still feel the pressure of the blade buried deep in his side whenever he thought about the day of the ambush. He’d lost so much since then. Dying and coming back to life only to live like a ghost. Getting his memory back didn’t suddenly make it all better.

A knock on the door disturbed his thoughts. He whipped around just in time as the door creaked open, and Mary poked her head in. Witch, he thought, rising fast from his chair. He remembered being chained up in a cell, and the only thing he’d seen had been her one eye glowing in the dark as she cursed him with her evil spells. He regretted having felt sorry for her once. He should have killed her when he’d got a chance.

“Don’t be scared,” she said, lifting a hand as though she was approaching a prey animal. “I just want to talk.”

“I’m not scared of you,” he told her, his voice rough. “You should be scared because it takes everything in me not to put my hands round your neck right now.”

Mary kept a considerable distance between them as she stopped and swallowed hard. “I’m very sorry about everything you’ve gone through. You know I was forced to do that.”

“No, you chose to do that. You chose to serve Calanthe.”

“I did,” Mary sighed. “I’d lost my sisters. They were all I had. And I blamed Y/N for it. When I came to Calanthe, I was desperate and mourning. But I swear I’m a better person now. I didn’t mean to hurt so many people.”

Harry scoffed, waving towards the door. “You’re not making this any better. Just get out.”

Mary didn’t move. She looked even more determined to get her apology across. “I know I’ve caused a lot of pain for everyone here. That’s not my intention anymore. I just want this war to be over and for everyone to be safe.”

Harry flopped back into his chair, looking out of the window with his chin on his knuckles. If he didn’t acknowledge her presence, hopefully she’d leave him alone.

It didn’t work.

“Something’s bothering you,” she said.

“Yes, I’m still waiting for it to stop talking to me.”

Mary exhaled, ignoring the insult. “It’s the Queen, isn’t it? Because of her bond with the King.” Despite there being no answer or even a reaction, Mary still went on, “I think...it’s for the best, if you just...let her go.”

Harry stiffened. Slowly, he turned to her, appalled. “What?”

“I know you’ll hate me even more after I tell you this,” she said. “But it’s impossible to compete with someone she’s been looking for from lifetime to lifetime. Fate is cruel, but it always does its job. It always brings soulmates back together.”

“I don’t...understand.”

Mary studied Harry with her wide eye, as if she could not figure out why he seemed confused. Then, it occurred to both of them that Y/N hadn’t been completely honest with him.

“She hasn’t told you,” Mary mumbled, more to herself.

“Told me what?”

Harry thought of Y/N’s conversation with the deer before they’d followed it out of the woods. It must have told her more than she’d revealed to him.

Why did his love have to hide the truth from him? Was it because she didn’t trust him? Or because she didn’t think he could handle it? Or was it because she couldn’t believe it herself?

“Then I think you should hear it from her,” Mary said fast.

Harry got to his feet right as she was about to leave. “Tell me.”

Reluctantly, she looked back at him over her shoulder.

“Please,” he added, desperate.

She pondered for a moment before letting go of a heavy sigh. Both of them knew she’d regret this afterwards, and yet she didn’t have it in her to just stay silent.

“All I can say to you is that…” she wet her lip, “Y/N and Lance have a special kind of bond. Two people need years to build such a connection, but those two had already got it when they first met. You may think you understand her, but you’ll never know her as well as he does. And if she ends up choosing you, she’ll probably spend another lifetime missing him.”

Harry was trying to process all that when Mary spun on her heels and slipped out of the room as quietly as she’d entered. The door shut with a soft ‘thud’, and Harry stood there, staring at it with his heart and thoughts racing.

Although he could not make sense of what the witch had just told him, the ball of fear within him grew until his chest felt like it might combust. He fell back into his chair. The moon outside his window was round and high above the empty branches. Harry contemplated it as he recalled the dreams Y/N had told him.

The Moon Lady and the Man in Black.

The witch and the King.

The winter and the crown.

He twisted her gold ring around his finger, agitated. “Fate,” he mumbled to himself.

When the door was opened for the third time, it was Y/N who came in. Harry pressed his lips into a smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice something was wrong. She always noticed. That was the problem.

She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room before taking him in with a look of concern. “The maid said you’d been here all day. Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m good,” he lied. “I’m just trying to get familiar with all these changes. How was the meeting?”

She stood by the fireplace, folding her arms across her chest and resting her forehead against the wall. “It was...interesting. Soon the news will arrive at Theros, so we’re bracing for the worst. Lance speculated that this was all Calanthe’s plan. She needed a reason to invade the North.”

“She had her most trusted advisor murdered?”

Y/N shrugged. “You don’t think she’s capable of it?”

“We’ve met her, Peach. She’s just a girl.”

“We don’t know her.”

Harry got up from his chair and walked over to stand in front of Y/N. He raked his fingers through his hair and released a sigh. “I can’t imagine her being so cruel and calculated. They’re using her.”

“What do you mean? Who?”

“The Monks. Taking me was their idea. I could vaguely remember them telling her what to do to me. Would you like to hear my theory?”

Y/N nodded, looking intrigued.

“They’ve got her believing that she’s special,” Harry said. “That she’s the chosen one, so she’d trust them and let them guide her. When the war’s over and she’s won, they’ll find a way to get rid of her. They wanted your father, your uncle, and your brother dead. How hard would it be to take down Calanthe?”

Y/N chewed her bottom lip as she averted her troublesome eyes. She seemed to ponder over his speculation for a long moment before letting go of a short breath. “Let’s not speak of it. I’ll discuss it with Lance in the morning.”

Harry knew he was doomed when even the King’s name made his stomach twist. “We can talk about it if you want to. I don’t mind,” he said.

She shook her head. “I do, Harry. I’m tired. I just want to not think about it for a second.” Seeing the bafflement on his face, she smiled and touched his cheek.

“I want to help,” he mumbled.

“I know,” she sighed. “And I’m grateful for your help. I just don’t want to feel like a queen when we’re alone. We can talk about anything, not war and death.”

Harry nodded as he placed with hands on her hips, pulling her in. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He traced the flame’s shadow on her cheek as she smiled, content. He hated that they could be holding each other, and there’d still be plenty of distance between them.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” she said, squinting her eyes. She knew there was more to it.

He took a deep breath. “I need you to be completely honest with me.”

“All right.”

“Do you love him?”

Y/N froze for a second as she blinked blankly. “What? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious, Peach.” He brushed her hair out of her face. “There’s no right or wrong answer. I just want to know how you feel. I’m not good at reading people, and lately I’ve been having a hard time trying to figure you out. I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, my love. I love you. And I want you to be happy so I must hear it from you. Do you love him?”

Harry’s heart thudded wildly in his chest as Y/N worked her jaw for a reply. “I’m afraid of losing him,” she said at last. “He’s become a part of me. Perhaps he’s always been. So I guess I do love him. Just not the way he wants me to. Not the way he deserves to be loved.”

Though that wasn’t the answer Harry had expected or the answer he wanted to hear. For him it could only be yes or no. He was surprised yet not saddened by it. He even felt quite hopeful that she still trusted him to say what she really felt. He might not have all of her now with everything they were going through. However, he could still get her back.

“He’s a good man,” Harry said.

Y/N’s doubtful eyes scrutinised him. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No,” he chuckled and kissed her forehead. “I love you. And I want you to be happy.”

The corner of her lips raised nonchalantly. “I will be again, eventually. But you do make this living hell a lot better.”

Harry tossed his head back and laughed. Y/N laughed, too. He’d missed that heavenly sound. Why should he believe anything Mary had said? She’d nearly killed him and sabotaged what he had with Y/N twice. So she should be the last person he should listen to.

Right?

“Oh, there will be a ball tomorrow night,” Y/N said, fixing his hair with a big grin on her face.

“Really?”

“Yes. A masquerade ball.”

Harry never liked dancing. However, he knew she did, and so he was excited about this ball. “But,” he rubbed his chin, “is it insensitive to hold a ball after what happened?”

Y/N’s smile faded, making Harry feel terrible for ruining one rare moment of happiness for her.

“George Wallace’s death was a week ago,” she said, her brows knitted. “And the fact that people in court are still talking about it and assuming that they’re in danger is a great concern for me. I need to show my subjects that we’re not living in fear. Besides,” she gave a half shrug, “dancing makes me happy.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, whatever makes you happy, Your Majesty.”

Y/N giggled as she waved off his comment. “Stop teasing. You know you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Mmmm.” She leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a breathless guard stuck his head in right as Y/N and Harry jumped away from each other.

“Your Majesty.”

“What?” Y/N breathed, sounding annoyed. Her cheeks were still red, and Harry couldn’t help but smile into his fist.

“His Majesty requested for your attendance,” the guard said.

Y/N immediately looked to Harry. The apologetic stare she was giving him had said it all.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Your Majesty,” he said, took her hand and kissed it once.

“The ball,” she mouthed at him. And then she was gone.

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Music swelled as the orchestra was readying for the first number. Y/N watched the queue of stragglers seeking admittance at the entrance, amused by their excitement, which was evident even though their expressions were hidden behind their masks. Some even had painted faces, vying to outdo the splendour of the palace.

“May I have this dance?” A man dressed in dark blue stretched his hand out to Jo. With an uncomfortable smile, she was whisked onto the crowded dance floor. Y/N had noticed that Jo seemed distracted tonight. She’d keep seeking the room for someone. Y/N’s curiosity was piqued. Could it be possible that Jo was looking for Lance? Could something had happened between Jo and Lance while she’d been away?

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind, straining her eyes as she tried to locate Harry among the colourful masks. All of the ladies had found their dance partners. Their dresses fluttered as they twirled like snowflakes in the wind. Where was he? He’d said he’d be here, and he wouldn’t break his promise.

“Why is the prettiest girl in the room sitting this dance out?”

“Lance!” Y/N flinched, pressing a palm against her chest as Lance tapped the back of her chair and flopped down into the one beside her. He was dressed in a fine suit of blackest wool, impeccably tailored to his frame. A dark mask obscured his face from forehead to nose. Tiny jet beads sparkled at the edges.

He offered a quick smile. “How do you know? I’m wearing a mask.”

Y/N scoffed as she rolled her eyes. She was grateful he was being his snarky self and not the person who’d told her he’d loved her two nights ago. Still, those words were all she could hear whenever she looked at him.

“Even Jo’s dancing,” he pointed out.

“Speaking of Jo, I want to ask you something,” she said, fixing her gold mask. Even with a mask on, she still wasn’t able to handle the weigh of his stare. “Is there something between you and Jo? She’s been distracted.”

Lance smirked. “Why do you assume I have something to do with her being distracted?”

“I don’t know. You were probably flirting with all the maids while I was gone,” she joked.

Lance breathed out a casual laugh. “I was flirting with your entire library, actually. In fact, I have another theory–”

“Please. Not here,” she said, pouting. “I’d like to be a normal girl for just one night.”

Lance arched an eyebrow as he eyed her up and down. “Said the only lady here not dancing.”

“You’re obnoxious.” She rolled her eyes, unable to stop beaming.

Lance sucked in a breath. He stood up and straightened his back with a hand stretched toward her. She looked up, amused.

“Dance with me. You’re being embarrassing right now,” he said, glancing at their feet as if surprised to find them staying still.

Y/N gave a nod as she got up, her fingers sliding into his outstretched hand, which was cold and rough yet familiar. For a second, she caught a glimpse of them standing in that cave. The dream in which he’d visited her had felt so real. It’d felt like this. She glanced up to meet his questioning eyes. She reassured him with a tight smile and followed him to the centre of the room.

A new tune began. She snaked her free arm up his shoulder, holding her breath as his other hand came to rest at her waist. She once again swept her eyes across the room for Harry. Her heart sank when she couldn’t find him. He hated dancing. Perhaps he’d changed his mind at the last minute and decided not to join. She’d check on him after this dance.

“My eyes are here,” Lance said.

Y/N jolted, feeling glad that he couldn’t see her blushing. “Pardon me.”

“It’s all right.” He laced his fingers with hers. His hand at her waist was warm and sure. A ribbon of comfort unravelled inside her, and she allowed Harry to be absent from her mind for this tune.

Lance skillfully led her through the familiar steps, his smile bright. “Not bad,” he said, making her laugh.

“Is that how you compliment someone?”

“My apology, Your Majesty. I assumed Northerners didn’t have fun.”

“You’re right.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m miserable right now. I cannot wait for this to be over.” As soon as she’d said it, she feared he’d take her joke the wrong way. Thankfully, he tossed his head back and laughed. She rarely got to hear Lance laugh, so her heart vibrated with excitement.

“Don’t worry,” he said, tilting his head. “This will be our first and last dance.”

She did not ask what he meant.

As the song came to an end, Lance drew her in, so close she could feel the heat of his chest. Behind the mask, his eyes burned down at her. The crowd broke into applause for the orchestra as they broke apart.

He reached out and pushed aside a loose curl behind her ear. His thumb traced lightly across her cheek. Before she could thank him for dancing with her, he spun on his heels and slipped into the crowd of courtiers.

.

.

.

“Argh!” Calanthe charged, swinging her sword in a furious arc. The soldier cooly stepped into his charge, catching the descending sword with his own. He twisted and wrenched upward with all his strength. The sword flew out of Calanthe’s hand. She grabbed for it frantically, but her opponent snatched it out of the air.

“Enough!” shouted a gruff powerful voice.

Calanthe whirled and dropped the sword to her feet, catching her breath. Vossler, the leader of The Monks, appeared like a phantom. His gaze trailed from Calanthe’s face to her weapon on the ground. He didn’t need to say a word to describe how disappointed he was. She knew that look. She’d received it her whole life from everyone she’d ever met. Ever since she’d taken the throne, no one had dared to look at her like that except for Vossler. He reminded her of her father. She’d give anything to impress him.

“Your Majesty,” he said, dragging the title with an agitated tone. “I told you that sword-fighting was very similar to dancing. You have to feel, not think.”

“I know, I know,” she muttered, bending down to pick up the sword. Vossler kicked it out of her reach before she could close her fingers around the hilt. Her guards drew their swords. She lifted a hand to tell them to stay where they were.

Vossler held her stare as if challenging her to punish him for disrespecting the Queen. She knew she couldn’t. People feared her because they feared The Monks. She hated that. Still, she was the chosen one. Vossler would have no choice but to kneel at her feet when she became the ruler of one hundred kingdoms.

“You can’t rule when even a child could take the sword from you,” he said as if he could read her thoughts.

She lifted her chin proudly despite the fact that her fingers were still trembling. “I’m tired. I’ll practice again tomorrow.”

Vossler regarded her with a raised eyebrow. His lips twitched in a despicable manner. “Very well. You should get some rest, Your Majesty. Get all the rest you need. Why should you worry about a nineteen-year-old, whose best friend is her sword, who murdered her own brother in a duel, brought someone back from the dead, and survived the North Mountain?”

Calanthe was frozen in place, too shocked to react. “She survived?”

“She found the lake.”

“Fuck!” Calanthe screamed into her hands. “The Mountain was supposed to kill her!”

“The witch didn’t tell us the whole truth,” Vossler said. To Calanthe’s surprise, he sounded as calm as ever. She was about to ask him what the witch had been hiding from them when he flicked his wrist, and a servant hurried to retrieve Calanthe’s sword.

“Your Majesty?” he said, his eyes piercing at Calanthe.

The wind whipped by, blowing strands of hair across her face. She bit the inside of her cheek, glared back at the servants who were observing her, making her feel like less than a queen she was.

She took a deep breath, then grabbed the weapon. “Again.”

[writeyourownlifestory]

Of Mice and Men {Mouse x Reader}

Summary: You meet a handsome guy in a bar and find that being the girlfriend of someone on a special forces team is a lot more complicated than expected. 

Warnings: Sexual activity. Domestic fluff. Ominous ending.

Word Count: 10,051

A/N: Wrote this just to say I did. I saw a lot of love was being given to Gardner, and Pat and thought you know who could use some attention? Adorable special forces baby boy Mouse.

I hope you enjoy all of this. I put my whole heart and soul into it even though Reader isn’t my forte. Fair warning, if you haven’t seen G.I Joe: Retaliation (spoiler warning), things don’t end well for the Screaming Eagles, so be warned, a bit of heartbreak in this one.

Read the following: AO3, Wattpad, or under the cut.

You met at a bar, which in itself is pretty surprising because bars aren't your scene. Maybe you drink, maybe you don't. It all depends on the moment and your emotions. You're there to meet up with some friends or maybe coworkers. You don't remember. Everything before him is a bit of a blur, to be completely honest.

He was with some buddies of his, standing off in the corner playing some game. They were rowdy and loud, which was to be expected. The bar isn't the type of place where you'd sit down quietly and discuss things. You go to laugh, and drink and have a good time. Sometimes the place would have some guy in the corner with a guitar, singing along to old songs, though tonight they stuck with the jukebox and radio.

You were waiting for your drink, leaning against the bar as you listened to some old country song. It was the type of song that everybody knew even if you didn't actively listen to it. You weren't singing along because you didn't sing in public, but you hummed to the chorus when your drink finally came.

You thanked the bartender, wrapping your hand around your glass though just as you turned to go back to your table, it was knocked out of your hand by a passing bar-goer. He stumbled into you, staggering back at the glass crashed to the ground. Liquor, ice, and glass scattered all along the floor.

There was a moment of silence that was filled with shock and annoyances you looked up to face the man who slammed into your arm. He looked just as surprised as you were, with a tad bit of remorse added to it.

"Christ. I am so sorry." He muttered, going back and forth between looking between you and the mess on the floor.

"It's all right," You say, even though it wasn't.

"I wasn't looking where I was going." He mentions even though it was obvious. "I'll get you a new one."

You shake your head because you don't want to be a bother, but the guy is already heading to the bar. He slaps his hand onto it repeatedly to get the attention of the bartender and then looks back at you. You rattle off your drink of choice, choosing to just let the guy buy you another one.

You watch as a worker cleans up your mess and apologize to them even if it wasn't your fault. You don't like to cause trouble for anybody, though they wave you off like it's no big deal. And it wasn't. No use in crying over spilled alcohol, right?

You turn your head back to watch the bartender make your drink, checking to make sure nothing was slipped inside of it. The dark world we live in, but what can you do?

The guy smiles triumphantly as he holds up your drink, giving a dramatic display as he offers it to you. "My lady,"

"You're sweet," You speak, taking the glass up from his large hands, bringing it to your lips for a slow sip. It's sweet and bitter all at the same time.

You stand there, teetering between the bar and the tables until the shout of your name gathers your attention. You look back, suddenly remembering who you were with. You thank him once more, turning on your heel so you could return to your table.

You sit down and try to enjoy the night, chattering with your small group of people who arrived for the small hangout. Now and then you catch the guy glancing your way. You can contently say he doesn't spend the night staring at you as he is busy with his group of friends, but your eyes lock a time or two.

You didn't think anything of it, especially as the bar began to fill up and the sound of the music playing over the radio and the endless conversation is too just for you. You excuse yourself to use the restroom, shuffling through the crowd. There were other bars in your area, but you guessed this one had the most atmosphere. Or maybe it was close and people were lazy. Who knew.

There was a small line building and you step onto it without a second through. You're looking at your phone, trying to keep busy when a voice catches your attention.

"We meet again," The guy in front of you mentions.

For a moment you thought it was a joke. Meeting the guy from before on the line for the bathroom of all things. It seemed a little too cliche, but you try not to overthink it.

"There's only one bathroom. And I've been there for about . . . eight minutes." He confessed, shifting his hand as he took his guesstimate. "I think some guy is getting lucky in there."

"Seriously?" You mutter, raising your brows in surprise.

You understood the kink of having sex in a public place. You could never imagine doing it yourself, but who were you to judge those brave enough to take the chance.

You both stand there, not sure what to do. Sure, he had the option of heading to the alleyway and pissing by the dumpster, but you weren't lucky enough to be able to aim. So you remain online, hoping that the bastard inside the room was enjoying himself.

"Having fun?" The mystery man asked, shifting to lean back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest.

You shrug. You're not having a bad time, even if this isn't your scene. You can be social or you could be unsocial. You could bounce off the walls or sit quietly in your room. All depends on the situation. Tonight, you're enjoying yourself though of course there were other things you'd love to do. Other things you could be doing if you weren't in this cramped bar, waiting online to pee.

"Are you?" You asked, trying to get a good look at him.

The bar was dim though his hazel eyes shined well enough. He's cute enough, you think. Boyish smile with dimples. The regular looking guy with a nice build and strong arms.

He bobs his head, proceeding to explain that he was meeting up with a couple of guys from work. He mentions that he hasn't seen them in a while, as they were all stationed in other places. You wondered what he meant, but didn't question it. You just stand there and listen, shifting your feet as you silently thanked yourself for choosing comfortable shoes.

When the door to the bathroom opens, you watch as a guy and girl slip out of the room together. They were blissfully happy and there is a simmering in your stomach when you catch a glance of their linked hands and wrinkled clothing.

Rather than stepping inside, the guy holds the door open, gesturing for you to go in. You shake your head, reminding him that he waited a lot longer than you had, but he refuses. "I'm special forces. I can hold it, trust me."

You take the hint and shuffle inside, trying to best to be quick so the poor guy doesn't have to suffer any longer. You think about what he said, about special forces and being stationed and realize he's military based. You don't know what to do with this information and carry on with what you were doing.

You exit a moment later, shaking your hands because you hate those stupid air dryers. They never work right anyhow.

The guy is nowhere to be seen and you wonder if he decided to piss out in the alleyway after all. You look around curiously, though it's too crowded to see anyone. You shuffle back to your table and remain for another hour, laughing and commenting about whatever subject comes up.

You get a Lyft home because you've been drinking and you don't think about the special forces guy until you're settling in for the night. It's a silly cliche to meet a cute guy at the bar but then again, cliches exist for a reason. You don't allow yourself to wonder if you'd ever see him again, because you have very little intentions of going back to the bar any time soon.

Except you do go back, against your better judgment. It's busy again and you and your associates arrive later than usual. There is no table to sit at, so you're standing in the corner. Someone bought you a drink, which is nice because you don't have much cash on you, but it tastes strong and you don't have the stomach for strong alcohol.

The music isn't that good and you last about an hour before finally making an excuse to leave. You ramble off some bullshit that you don't will be taken seriously because honestly, what does it matter if you stay or go. You can be a good company but you surely won't be pissed on this night. You head out the front, standing off to the side as you go to order another ride home.

"Heading out already?" You hear over your shoulder and you turn to see the special forces guy. You didn't expect to see him, even if you did take a casual look around when you first entered.

A few other men make their way into the bar and you guess that is his selected crew. You rattle off the same excuse as you had to your friends/coworkers/whoever they are at this point, though he doesn't buy it the way they did.

"Shame. Was hoping I could buy you another drink." He admitted, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"I already had one." You confess, thinking about to the bitter-tasting bottle that you held for the entirety of your stay.

"I could buy you something else." He offers slightly, gesturing to the pizza place across the street.

It was small and dingy, but the place pizza places always are. Places that have to promote themselves as a family-friendly restaurant isn't going to give you good tasting pizza. Maybe delicious garlic knots or pesto ravioli, but if you wanted good pizza, you have to go to a place smaller than a New York City apartment.

You ate earlier, but who could say no to free food, so you follow him across the way, discussing different toppings and such. You aren't a picky eater, not really. Sometimes you prefer one thing over another, but in the end, you're just happy for the food. You order your pie, which is scattered with all different things and sit down at a small table you both have to squeeze into.

You're sucking on the straw of your fountain drink when the pizza is placed beside you and you both dig in. He is halfway through his slice when he speaks up, swallowing down hard when a certain realization hits him.

"I don't know your name."

You speak it softly, taking a bite of your slice after the name leaves your lips.

"Morris." He admits. "Friends call me Mouse."

You cock your head, trying to understand why. He isn't exactly small, so it wouldn't be a proper comparison nor is he large enough to make the nickname ironic. You just bob your head, deciding that Morris is good enough for you.

You make idle chit-chat and learn more about each other. You tell him what you do for a living and he talks about his military life. The pizzeria lightening is better than the bar, allowing you to get a good look at him now. He's cute. Boyish and handsome. You snort as he takes a large bite, nearly taking the entire slice, crust included into his mouth. You both laugh it off as he chews, luckily not choking on his little antic.

You wonder if any of the others will leave the bar and come here, seeing you. Would they question you, see if you ditched them for a guy? Would they be right?

No one else comes in after that, so it's just the two of you lost in your little world. You finish your pizza and drinks but remain sitting and talking until the place is closing up and you get kicked out.

"Can I give you a ride home?" He asked, holding his keys out.

You thought about saying no and thanking him for the pizza, but the idea of talking to him for a little while longer was too tempting. You follow him to his truck, hoping in easily enough. You give him the address but he doesn't put it into a GSP or anything.

"Are you from around here?" You ask casually, wondering if you've lived in the same area and never knew about it.

"I'm from all over." He tells you as you head out onto the road. He takes it slow, keeping the conversation up as you go. You don't live far, but you don't mind the gentle motion.

When he finally pulls up to your place, you both pause. You thank him for the company and the food and he does the same. You see a small flush across his cheeks and he's looking between the steering wheel and yourself until he finally breaks.

"Can I call you sometime? The text you?"

You don't give your number out often, mostly because nobody asks for it. You also don't date that much because of reasons X/Y/Z. Still, you give him the number anyway, passing him your phone so he could put his number in.

When you get it back, you thank him again for the night, hopping out of the truck and heading into your place. Your phone buzzes as you walk through the door and you see a message from "M" with a mouse emoji. The message is simple enough, asking if you were free tomorrow.

Another message comes in, asking if it's too soon to ask. You chuckle softly, thinking about what you had planned for the following day. You worked but were lucky enough to get out at a decent time.

You offer it up to him and Morris jumps, swearing to pick you up an hour after you get out so you both had time to get ready. There are butterflies in your stomach for the rest of the night and even during the day. You don't text him first because you don't want to come off as too eager.

You knew it was silly. That it was all stereotypical bullshit. If you were excited you were allowed to be. No one should make you feel bad for wanting to see someone or do something. Morris does text you however, checking in to see how you're doing and asking if there was anything specific you wanted to do.

You didn't know if it was a date or a hangout but so long as you weren't taken back to that bar, you didn't care. He promised to plan the whole thing and you trusted his judgment, putting your phone away so you could get some work done.

When you get home, get ready. You shower, letting your hair dry as you pick out your outfit. You try to keep it casual, but you want to look cute. You put something together, deciding to be a bit outrageous and choose heels this time. You apply your makeup and sit at the kitchen table, waiting patiently for him to arrive.

The butterflies in your stomach remain as the familiar truck pulls up and just as you go to open the door, he hops out, a small bouquet in hand and smiling bashfully. "I was just about to knock." He admits shyly.

"Bit old fashioned, don't you think?"

You had never gone on a date before where the guy arrived on your doorstep to knock and greet you. This wasn't the fifties nor a small town. Usually, it was a text saying they had arrived or more than usual, you'd agree to meet at a chosen location.

"Well, I can be pretty old fashioned sometimes." He confessed, holding the flowers out for you to take.

The bouquet is small but lovely. You've never been given flowers by a guy before. Family sure, but not a date. You're beginning to realize that this is, in fact, date and the butterflies just get worse, but you more solid few it, following him off to his truck.

He's rattling on about his plans for you both and you can see that he is a bit nervous too. It helps you realize, though you have to laugh silently. Why would he be nervous? You were nice to look at and good company, but nothing to get nervous about. He was sweet and nice, something very hard to find, so it was normal for you to get a bit nervous.

You go for dinner at a place in town that isn't a chain restaurant or fast food place. He pulls in your chair and asks you about work the moment you're sitting down, showing off how attentive and caring he could be. It throws you for a loop, but you don't question it. Instead, you choose to enjoy it, asking him the same questions as you get to know one another better.

He has been in the military nearly his whole life. He was a specialist and while he didn't want to go into detail, he made it very clear that he was very good at his job.

"Have you ever killed someone?" You ask boldly, halfway through your meal.

He is silent for a moment, outweighing his options. "Only the bad guys."

"How do you know who is good and who is bad?" You question, leaning in close. "I mean, technically, from their side, you're bad and they're good. Who is right and who is wrong?"

You didn't know what reaction you'd get. He could be angry for you questioning his line of work or call you stupid for calling someone against the military anything other than the villain. Instead, he laughed it off, leaning back in his seat with a laugh. "Very philosophical of you."

You're both silents for a moment and while there is a gentleness to his face and voice the things he is saying are very serious. "I guess I just want the world to be a better place to live. And maybe the things I do care a little unethical but I have to believe I'm succeeding in one way or another."

"Like a modern-day superhero." You say and it makes his smile widen just slightly.

"Maybe." He whispered, turning his attention back onto his meal.

You spent the rest of your dinner eating and chatting about this or that, little things that you wouldn't discuss with a stranger because you know they wouldn't care. But Morris isn't a stranger at this point. When the bill comes he pays before you can even grab it.

"You can get it next time." He promises, placing the money down and standing from his chair.

The possibility of another date is already hanging in the air and it leaves you in awe as you follow him out of the place. The weather is nice so you walk for a bit, finding that talking to him was oh so very easy.

You decide to grab some ice cream and you make a very big deal over the fact that you're paying for it. He just laughs it off and gets his double scoop, following you around the town as the warm air whirls around you both.

You continue to walk and talk before going into his truck and driving around for a bit. The conversation never dulls though you know it has to come to an end as the hours continue to tick on. He pulls up in front of your place and you're both smiling brightly.

He walks you to your door, like the gentleman he is and you thank him for a lovely time, finding that you can't remember such a great night with any other former suitor. He says the same, squeezing your hand gently. You stand there for a moment and think that he will kiss you but instead he lets you go and makes his way back to his truck.

You go into your home, finding that he has already texted you, leaving you with a promise that the next date will be even better. You go to bed wondering when the hell you entered a hallmark movie.

Or maybe a lifetime movie as hallmark is always a bit too fluffy and sweet while lifetime offers a bit of drama, which is exactly what comes your way. You go on your second date, which is even better than your first.

You argue over who pays since you paid for the ice cream and Morris fights that that didn't count as the second date. You try to do what he did and persuade him to hang on until the next date when he could go back to flashing his cash but the persistence doesn't work. He becomes quite suddenly and you wonder if you had done something wrong.

"Are you okay?" You asked after stepping out of the restaurant.

Morris looks whiplashed, lost in thought that you had ripped him from. His bright smile is back and he plays it off like it was nothing.

"Come on, pretty girl. Let's go skip some stones." Taking your hand, Morris leads you down to the water. He picks up some rocks and begins tossing them and you watch as they skip across the surface.

He shows you how it's done and when it's your turn the rock sinks almost automatically. He tries to show you again and you have to admit the second time is a tad bit better but it's still a pathetic attempt.

You try a few more times, stopping only when you hear him say your name.

"I'm heading out tomorrow," he admits to you quietly. "When I come back, will you go out with me again?"

You paused, not realizing that had ever been an option. Normally people went on one date and then another and then another. You had teased him about your next date but his response threw you for a loop and for a small moment you wondered if he didn't want another. Now he was giving you puppy dog eyes like you were bound to say no.

"When are you coming back?"

He shrugged, stepping closer. "Hard to tell. But will you?" He smiled then, full of boyish charm. "Gotta give me something to come back to."

You rolled your eyes and turned, tossing the rock as it sunk into the water. "Someone has to teach me this shit," you told him, smiling on your own as laughter erupted from him.

It was a week later when you heard back from Morris. You didn't worry about it because this was his job and you knew he was far across the sea, saving the day and everything in between.

You had just showered and was sitting in your bed, being lazy and comfortable when your phone began to ring. You looked it over, seeing it was Morris calling you and you slid your finger across the screen to answer it.

"Evening beautiful,"

"You made it out alive," You mused, laying back in your bed, your towel wrapped head nestled against the pillows.

"Always do. I didn't disturb you did I?"

You look over at the clock, checking the time. "It's barely nine."

"Not too late for a date then is it?"

You do a double-take, surprised by his question. "What are we gonna do at nine pm on a weeknight?"

"Are you doubting me, Y/N?" He laughs but softens suddenly. "We can wait until tomorrow. Or any other day of the week. I just got back and wanted to see you."

He sounded so sweet, so sincere. You had been away from one another for a week with no contact at all. She guessed he couldn't bring his phone on missions of whatever they called them, but he was back now and he wanted to see you.

So you agree. You dress and attempt to apply on makeup but he's over before you finish, knocking on the door. You hang out at your place, on your couch. He brought over food and you just eat together, talking and catching up.

"I don't know what you can tell me," you mutter, wanting to hear whatever he can say.

"Nothing special. Saved the day and all. Job well done for now."

"When do you have to leave again?"

Morris shrugs, toying with his food. "All depends. My team is useful so we get called on a lot. It can be a pain in the ass but no reason to complain about being too good at something."

"So you just...wait for the call?"

Morris leaned his head back against the couch, offering a frown. "It's not ideal. But I get paid to live nicely enough. I get to take out a pretty girl whenever she lets me."

"You say that like I'm not a cheap date."

"No lady is cheap and that's fine by me. You deserve to be pampered; even if it's just taken out at nine-thirty at night."

You laugh because even if it's cheesy, it's still one of the sweetest things you've ever heard. You carry on eating, moving to throw it all in the garbage once you're both finished. Morris follows you, staying close and watching as you work around your kitchen.

"You know. There's another reason I'm glad I came back." He mentions, taking the trash bag from you so you can refill the bin with another one.

"And what's that?"

"Well, you know what they say about the third date,"

You look over your shoulder then, raising a pointed brow at him. "Do I?" You asked. "Refresh my memory."

"The third date is when you get the first kiss. The first date is too soon and the second date is when you're testing the waters. But on the third date?" Morris shook his head, taking away as he stepped closer to you. "That's when you know it's for real. That you like this person and want more."

You find yourself speechless. Such an old fashioned theory that in reality should be laughable and yet you aren't chuckling, you aren't smiling. Morris was a grown man expressing how much he wanted to see you, how much he wanted to kiss you. Grown men didn't do things like that.

Or maybe they do and you've just never dated a grown man before. Just silly boys who wanted their dicks touched and someone pretty in their bed.

Morris moves in closer, making his way into your personal space and backing you up against the kitchen counter. He's close enough that his breath is on your face. It's warm and welcoming.

"Do you want more with me?" He asked quietly, those hazel eyes shimmering under the lights of your kitchen.

You've wanted a lot of things in your life. Things you've been lucky enough to have and things that seemed more like a dream, completely unreachable. Morris didn't seem like one of those things. He was here in front of you, offering you the world and all you had to do was take it.

And so you did.

You stepped forward, deciding to meet him halfway for the kids he had been waiting for. You kissed him slowly, just testing the waters out though it was obvious Morris had other plans.

He swoops you up, wrapping those strong arms around your frame as he deepens the kiss. It's more intense suddenly and you finally begin to realize just how much he wanted this. How much he wanted you. You found yourself lost in thoughts of him thinking of you while he was on his mission, one that was dangerous and lengthy.

You wondered if Morris spent his time thinking about you the way you had thought about him. If he truly did want more than just physical contact and he spent those nights in wherever he happened to be dreaming about seeing you again.

You've never thought so highly of yourself before. You never thought of yourself as someone worth thinking about. You're a good person but never could you imagine someone kissing you, wanting to see you the moment they got back home. The idea alone seemed so far out of reach but here he was. This amazing man who was holding you so close to him, sucking on your bottom lip as if you keep your lips attached for as long as possible until finally releasing you.

"Yeah." He whispers finally, the feeling of his warm breath tickles your cheeks. "Definitely worth the wait."

And just like that, with very little effort, you're completely smitten.

You get used to having a guy around. To having a boyfriend. It's nice at first, having someone to talk to aside from coworkers and friends. It's nice having someone to laugh with and kiss. It's also very nice to have someone always around, specifically someone who happens to be very useful and also very nice to look at especially when in uniform. You had never thought to see a guy in camo or more so, military dresses, would you attractive but Morris opened a lot of doors for you. Both literal and figuratively.

None of it is easy. How could it be? Regular relationships are hard but being involved with someone in special forces just flat out sucks. His schedule is wonky and sometimes he is gone for long periods. He isn't a doctor who is always on call and has to be pulled away in the middle of the night but he does get short notice sometimes.

The worst had been one night while you were at his place. You had gone on a mini-golf date and retired back to his apartment after destroying his ass. Morris is amusingly competitive and was playfully bitter over losing to you but was more than happy to have you make up for it with some adult-friendly fun.

You had yet to sleep with each other through this particular night seemed to be just right. He put some movie on while you sat in the couch and you both watched t for about three minutes before the arm that laid across your shoulder began moving downwards. You went from sitting beside him to straddling his lap with his hands on your hips holding you in place.

Foreplay wasn't your forte but it didn't take a genius to turn a guy on. Some heavy petting and tongue action seemed to be just the trick and as you found his hand slowly creeping up under your shirt, his door was suddenly open.

He moved swiftly, flipping you into the couch to block you from the intruder. You were scared out of your wits because of the sudden realization that someone very well could want him dead took over and for a few seconds, you just kept your eyes closed and clung to him, fearing the worst.

Morris realizes suddenly though he doesn't move automatically. "How the fuck did you my get in here?"

"You think we can't pick a few locks? We're well trained, Mouse." A man responds.

"This is illegal," Morris argues.

A second voice comes over this time a woman's. "You weren't answering your phone."

"Well, I'm sort of busy at the moment."

Suddenly the man comes into view and smiles. "Mouse has a little friend over." He acknowledging. "Hello, friend."

You open your mouth, possibly to say hello though nothing comes out. Morris shifts then, moving off you and going to stand in front of the man to block his view. "What is it you need so badly."

"Duke needs the information you gathered the other day." The woman explained from across the door.

"And this really couldn't wait?"

"What do you think?"

Morris clenches his jaw, turning his head to look back to you. With a heavy sigh, he leaves the room and retreats off to another part of the apartment. You sit up slightly, looking between the two. You don't know if they look like special forces because really, what does special forces look like outside of their uniform? If Morris hadn't told you that he was military then you wouldn't have ever guessed.

Nobody says anything to you. The woman is checking her phone while the guy is just smiling bashfully. When Morris returns he hands something to the man. "That's it. Tell Duke that he can come himself next time if it's so important."

"Tell him yourself," the man replied, frowning as the woman walked in and scooped up the file of information.

"We head out tomorrow at oh-eight-hundred." The woman responded, already heading out of the place.

Morris let out an audible groan. "Of course we do."

"She's cute, Mouse. Do you call her kitty?" The man questioned, chuckling to himself as he left.

Morris sighed again, going to relock the door after the departure of the others. He apologies to you, explaining who they are and whatnot but you brush it off. He doesn't have to explain anything to you. His job is big and important and most important very private. Whatever information they needed was very dire so who are you to fuss about it.

You stand to leave, searching the door for your shoes when Morris takes your hand. "Stay," he requests gently. You remind him that he has to leave tomorrow at six. Probably even before that, but he doesn't budge. "I'll leave you the key. You can come and go as you please until I come back."

The passion from before is gone so you know there won't be any sex tonight but it doesn't bother you much. You agree to stay because he wants you to and you follow him to his room for the night. Like his apartment his bedroom is pretty bland, not filled with much. You had mentioned it prior that he should take his place feel more like a home by adding a few things though Morris admitted he didn't see the point.

Before you, he had lived so sparingly. He went from mission to mission, more or less living for his job and nothing more. He had gotten quite cryptic one night and admitted that the lack of belongings made it easier for those who had to carry on for him after he passes. It was a cold slap in the face that his career of choice could very well end rather badly.

Not wanting to think about that now you dressed down for the night, thanking Morris when he passed you one of his shirts to sleep in. You couldn't remember the last time you shared a bed with someone or if you ever did. Without a word, Morris pulled you into his arms. He didn't come off as someone who enjoyed snuggling or spooning but he was full of surprises you had quickly found.

You slept peacefully in his arms, feeling utterly and completely safe in the warmth that was just him. When you woke you were alone in his bed, the pathetic chill of Morris' absence sent a shiver down your spine and you stayed in his bed for as long as possible before finally leaving.

You don't go back to his apartment right away. It feels strange without him there but a sudden idea sparks you to return. You bring a few things, some from your own home while others were purchased at stores in town. Little things to make his place feel more personal. Paintings and signs from his favorite sports team. A poster from a movie he had raves about that you framed and placed in the middle of the movie.

You didn't take many pictures together though the ones that you gave, yo upturn out and out in picture frames. It's so domestic you could cry and when Morris finally returns, he almost does the same. Gone were his blank walls and slightly bleak outlook.

It was almost a week when you saw him again, once again late into the night. Very late. The clock showed a single digit for the time and when you woke at the sound of the frantic knocking on the door you realized it was closer to sunrise than sunset.

Morris was at the door, standing in the rain looking like a drowned rat. Or maybe drowned a mouse.,you didn't understand why he was there. He could have waited until the morning or even the afternoon. Who knows where he had been or if he had even gotten any sleep.

You opened your mouth to speak, to question him and get him out of the rain but he cut you off swiftly.

"Did you put all that stuff in my place?"

You paused, unsure of how to respond. The answer was obvious. You brought the pictures and posters and knick-knacks. You wanted to take his place seem more comfortable and thought it would be a nice gesture. You never imagined he would be upset about it.

"The frames and everything else."

"Yes." You replied, forcing the words out from behind your teeth.

You opened your mouth to speak again, to apologize and promise that you would get rid of everything before he knew it but you never got to say a word. Morris was on your in seconds, kissing you deeply and holding you close despite his sopping wet clothing.

You fell into the kiss easily because how could you not? You missed him and he missed you, and even though it was ridiculously late you weren't going to push him away any time soon. He took the silent memo to continue and decided that enough was enough and lifted you into his arms.

Sometimes you forgot just how strong he was. Sometimes he would wear clothes that would make him look so average, so normal and then you'd get a reminder just like now that shows just how much effort he puts into his body for health and fitness.

He walked you to your room and plopped you down onto the bed. You watched with bright eyes as he peeled away from his wet clothing. You've seen him shirtless before, only for a few moments, but now was so much different. Now you were up close and personal with this beautiful creature and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch.

Morris let you because he wanted it too. It was very clear that you both wanted this, right here, right now. It wasn't ideal and it wasn't planned out, but neither of you could care. He used those deft fingers that pulled triggers on guns and missiles to open you up, his sticky-sweet voice whispering in your ear.

He said all the most wonderful things, bringing you closer to the edge. You had never gotten off on someone else's fingers before. Your own perhaps, late into the night when you were lonely and hungry for affection and a personal touch. You would lay back in your bed and watch a movie or listen to music or watch porn or maybe even listen to porn. Whatever the moment called for. Maybe you thought of someone specific or maybe you called out your name. Whatever did the job.

Now the only name you were crying out was his. Morris. Mouse. Morris L. Sanderson.

Such an interesting name. A lovely name. One that you wanted to hear and say again and again and again.

He muffles your whimpers with his mouth, lingering just long enough to remove the rest of his clothing. You expect him to dive right on in, using your juices as lubrication, but he never does. Instead, he wraps his hand around his cock, tugging and pulling on it as he swore and grunted, finishing off moments later.

You were both left panting, sticky and covered in a mixture of your seed. Morris moved to lay beside you, kissing you with a strange amount of passion for someone who just ejaculated all over your sheets.

You eventually remove those sheets and your sweat covered clothes. You snuggle up together on your bare mattress, those strong arms wrapped around you ever so tightly.

He thanks you for adding the things to his apartment, for trying to make it more comfortable.

"I wanted it to feel more like home." You confess, nuzzling against his chest.

You knew it was cheesy and disgustingly romantic, but you wanted to make him happy. To make his apartment somewhere he comfortable and wanted to return to after being away for who knows how long.

Morris breathes in your scent, his cheek resting against the top of your head. "It does. Well, almost."

You tilt your head, your own eyes locking on those shining hazel marbles. "Almost?" You mimic, wondering what it was you could have forgotten to add. Perhaps a few plants that he could water or maybe toss in a pet. Some fish or a golden retriever. "What's missing?"

Morris doesn't answer with words, because he doesn't have to. He tilts his head down and kisses you. Slow, with meaning, making it quite obvious that the thing that was missing from his apparent home is this. You and him, laying like this. In a bed after the bliss.

You knew it was cliche and silly. Something you normally would have chuckled just thinking of. But sometimes home isn't an apartment with photographs or house plants. Sometimes its a person. Sometimes it's you.

Things weren't rainbows and unicorns after that. Relationships went up and down and while sometimes it felt like the honeymoon stage would never, ever end while other times you felt like you had the whole universe against you.

You moved in together a few months after being together, which in theory was maybe a bit too quickly, but there was always that underlining fear that there may be no tomorrow. That though Morris promised to come back time and time again, there was always a possibility that he just wouldn't. You knew that was possible for any person.

Whether they be special forces or work at a 9-5 office job. You never know when it's your time, so why to bother waiting around for things to happen when you can just make them happen.

You made his formally lonely and blank apartment into a home. A place that you filled with plants that you watered and walls with even more pictures than before. You had discussed getting a pet, perhaps dog or cat or something crazy all together. One night you had talked about having children though Morris didn't comment much.

The world was full of possibilities, but your boyfriend didn't think to think of the future, because he didn't know what it would hold. The first time you had sex came later than expected, all after his strange confession that possibly leaving you with a child was a legitimate fear of his own. It seemed those in his line of work were not permitted to have families or relationships.

It wasn't against the rules, but the reality of leaving someone behind. And while that wasn't ideal, some people didn't care. Whether it be due to their reasons or wanting to carry on a legacy. Morris didn't like the idea of leaving a family behind. Or having a family outside of his team, to begin with.

But that was all before you. Now, things were complicated.

Morris came and went, following the orders of his higher-ups. The Screaming Eagles, as his sub-team had been named, were professionals and just as he had mentioned before, you can't complain about being too good at something.

At first, you don't let it bother you. He's always careful, always back within a few days. It's when he starts going more often and staying away far longer that you begin to get irked. You know you shouldn't. After all, if he didn't save the world, then who would?

It got scary a handful of times as while he did come back to you, sometimes he would be a bit more damaged than before. A scar here. Bullet mark there. One time he was in the hospital for over a week, having just barely dodged getting blown up.

It was terrifying, getting the phone call from someone you didn't know telling you that your boyfriend was laid up, just partial conscious with bruises and bandages. When you went to see him, he tried to crack a joke, tried to get you to smile, but you couldn't. You were happy he was alive, but that didn't change the turning in your stomach.

He was home for a while after that, healing up, but you knew it wouldn't be for long. His team needed him. Perhaps even more than you needed him. Teammates would show up out of the blue to check on him and while getting to know other Screaming Eagle members was exciting and brought a sense of normality to it, you couldn't help but be bitter.

You moved in together a few months after being together, which in theory was maybe a bit too quickly, but there was always that underlining fear that there may be no tomorrow. That though Morris promised to come back time and time again, there was always a possibility that he just wouldn't. You knew that was possible for any person.

Whether they be special forces or work at a 9-5 office job. You never know when it's your time, so why bother waiting around for things to happen when you can just make them happen.

You made his formally lonely and blank apartment into a home. A place that you filled with plants that you watered and walls with even more pictures than before. You had discussed getting a pet, perhaps dog or cat or something crazy all together. One night you had talked about having children though Morris didn't comment much.

The world was full of possibilities, but your boyfriend didn't think to think of the future, because he didn't know what it would hold.

It had been the largest fight you both ever had. You don't truly remember what even set it off, but before you knew it, you were screaming and fighting, arguing over things you wanted and didn't want.

How utterly unfair it was that he could come and go for days or even weeks and all you could do was wait for him come back.

"I always come back!" He shouted, his voice rising as the anger bubbled inside of him.

"For now." She shot back. "You came back after nearly being blown to pieces. And here you are, still healing, still carrying those physical and mental scars and you're already planning to go back."

"I have to go back. This is what I do. This is what I have always done."

"And I get that!" You insist. You aren't trying to get him to stop. You'd never do that to him. You knew Morris loved his work, you knew that this was what he was meant to do, but he had to understand. He needed to comprehend how unhappy you were in this situation.

"Then what?!"

"I'm scared!" You confess loudly. "I'm scared of not knowing where you are or what you're doing. I'm scared of you never coming back. And I know it's immature and I know I this is what you do, but I just..."

You threw your hands up, unsure of what else to say. What could you say? Your feelings were obvious. You were scared and sad, and unhappy. You wanted this man all the time and you couldn't have that. It was unfair and you were ashamed to feel this way, but you just couldn't help it.

"I'm not going to apologize, Y/N," Morris confessed, stepping closer to you. "We could break up and maybe we should, but I won't be the one to do it. I can't. Call me a selfish bastard, but I want you. I want things I never thought I would want. Never thought I could want."

Breaking up would have been easier. You could have scrapped it all as a wonderful memory and went back to your old apartment or find a different one. You could find another person who had a regular job and didn't disappear for days on end. Who wouldn't get blown up during a massive fight and didn't have a ridiculous codename?

"Say the word and I'll leave." He promised, reaching up with those strong hands to cradle your face.

The same hands that would pull the trigger and end the lives of the enemy were holding you so carefully like you were the fucking world.

"Just say it and it will all be over." He whispered, those hazel eyes bright and wide as he waited for you to make the choice.

All you would have had to do was say the word. He could have walked away and it would all be over.

But you didn't want to do that. You hated how much your heart was hurting, but you knew that the pain of being apart wouldn't be any less painful than the pain of being together even if you were separated time and time again.

So rather than saying the words and ending everything, you brought your lips to his, kissing him soundly. You caught him off guard, which was never easy to do as his senses were always spot on, but tonight you found yourself finally able to stop the special force's specialist.

He caught on quickly, of course, moving his hands from your face and down to your waist, lifting you into his arms. He didn't bother bringing you to your bedroom and instead dropped you right onto the couch where he ravished you ever so properly.

Sex had always been enjoyable but was it completely different from Morris. He was so attentive to you and your needs, wanting to get you off before he did. You had never been with someone who cared about you as much as he did. Who loved you as much as he did.

And you never loved anybody the way you loved him. Your Morris L. Sanderson. Your Mouse.

You enjoyed your final days together for as long as they could last. You went into the city and date multiple date nights. You spent days in bed, rolling around in the sheets and tucked away from the rest of the world. You went back to the bar where you first met and pulled Morris into the bathroom where you fucked his brains out, finally experience the thrill of having sex in a public place.

It was wild and spontaneous, something you'd only want to do with this one person.

You try not to think about when he'd have to go. He would return to his team and carry on saving the world. That day doesn't come quickly, but it does come eventually and you don't let it bother you. You can't because what is the point of crying? Of fighting? He'll come back. He always does after all.

So you kiss him goodbye and promise to see him again.

Morris leaves and you're left alone again, carrying on with life like always. You went to work and bought food for the house and watered your plants. You looked into getting a pet so your home wasn't so lonely when you were alone.

When Morris returned, it was the same as always. He kissed you wildly, spending a good while making love to you late into the night. Morris was a passionate person, but at no other time was the most full of need and desire than on the days when he would return.

Normally he wouldn't speak of what had gone down while he was away, but on some evenings would be more talkative and this night in particular. He mentioned that they were getting closer to finishing whatever was started and that a new plan was being made. You didn't understand what he was getting into and fell asleep listening to his voice.

When morning came, you cleaned around the room, finding no sign of a condom. You found Morris in the kitchen, eating cereal on the couch. He was rambling on about how lovely you looked, hair messy from sleep as you stood in nothing more than his tee-shirt and your panties.

"We forgot the condom." You mention to him, pausing to wait for him to get upset.

You knew there were other options for protection and whether or not you were on the pill was up in the air currently. Morris looked up from his cereal, swallowing his final bite. "I know." He admitted quietly. "Realized when we finished."

"You're oddly calm about this." You mention, thinking back to the long conversations you used to have with him about pregnancy and having a child. Neither of you was ready then but time went on and things changed.

You didn't know how you felt about the subject, mostly because you haven't thought about it for a while.

"Doesn't matter." Morris shrugs. "If it happens, it happens. No reason to worry."

"No reason to worry?" You repeat, raising a brow to him.

Morris bobbed his head, turning his attention back onto his cereal. "No reason to worry." He replied, his eyes focusing on the television before him.

There was no reason to worry. No pregnancy came and you began to wonder if Morris was disappointed because of it. Sometimes you could watch him watching you as if he was waiting for a chance to come that never would.

You use condoms when you have sex, though not every single time. Only when he knows he is going to leave, but never when he returns. It's an unspoken agreement of you two. Whatever happens, happens. You wouldn't push for it, but you wouldn't wholeheartedly try to prevent it either.

You both grow comfortable in the life you've created with one another until one day Morris throws a wrench in your plan. A wonderful wrench in the shape of a house. Not an apartment or a loft or a sublet. A house. An actual fucking house with a yard and a garden and multiple bedrooms.

You lose your mind in not so many words, unable to fathom that this is something you have. You're a homeowner. Your boyfriend bought you a house to stay in. A house that you could make your own. You don't believe him, insisting that all of this was just far too out of reach for either of you.

Morris is just standing there, smiling with his gorgeous smile. "You can make any place a home, but I thought . . . why not make it a bit more permanent?"

"This is . . . Morris!" You're flabbergasted, unable to fully process all of this.

So you jump his bones, laughing and smiling, kissing him with every ounce of happiness that you could muster. He carries you into the house that isn't exactly furnished but that doesn't matter. You make love on the floor, riding him into oblivion and crying out his name without worries of neighbors hearing through the walls.

You spend the weekend moving in, finding yourself thankful that Morris had a lot of friends who were strong enough to carry all your boxes for you. They stayed to celebrate afterward. Duke, and Roadblock, Clutch, and Lady Jaye. Everyone whose names you were just finding out.

You sat in your back yard, all of you drinking beer at you sat around a handmade fire pit as they talk stories about their past missions. You were seated on Morris' lap, with his arms around your waist as he held you tightly.

You laughed at the tales they told about your wonderful boyfriend, all of which were silly and wild and brave. When the night came to an end, Morris put out the fire and you were in the kitchen cleaning up. Duke and Jaye approached you, thanking you for the good night and wishing you a happy home warming.

"It's nice you know. Seeing him happy." Duke mentioned. Duke wasn't the type to say a lot, but when he spoke, you knew it meant something. "Keep it up," With a pat on your shoulder, the two left the house, leaving you and Morris alone in your home.

You were able to enjoy it for a few more days before the man was called away again. It was strange, being alone in this wonderful house. It was more open than the apartment and it would certainly be a lot to get used to, but you'd make it work.

Morris would come and go, come and go. You lived your life as well as you could. You were happy and sad, you missed him terribly but were always glad to see him come back.

You were laying in bed one night, one before he was supposed to leave. This trip was the biggest yet. Duke had come over a few nights before going over the planning and while you were in and out of the house, off to spend some time with friends, you caught a bit of the conversation. If they succeeded in this, then retirement was possible.

Retirement never even seemed like something attainable for Morris. He was too young. Too good at his job. But maybe, just maybe, it was something he'd want and could have.

You had made love slowly, letting only the light from the moon peek in through your window. You chose not to get dressed, allowing only the blanket to cover your naked bodies as you stayed wrapped up in one another afterward. No condom had been used this time around and Morris continued to kiss your cheeks and lips as you laid together.

"I have something for you," He admitted softly.

"Oh? And what is that?"

"It's in the nightstand." He said, tightening his arms around you. "But you can't have it yet."

"What?" You laugh.

"You can open it when I come back."

"Why bother telling me then?"

Morris just chuckles and kisses you. It was his personality. He was witty and charming and one hundred percent a wiseass. He would spoil you endlessly, but make you wait for it just to make a point across even if you didn't know what the point was.

When morning came, Morris was gone, leaving behind a note and a little stuffed mouse for good measure. It was plush and precious and you took hold of it, keeping it close to your heart. You roll over, going back to sleep so you could dream of this wonderful man. You dream of opening up your gift and picturing the life you'll have together.

A life full of happiness and joy. With pets and kids and everything in between.

A day passes and then another. Nothing you're not used to. On a particularly nice night, you go out to the water and begin skipping stones or well, attempt to. On the final try, you finally get it.

The small stone bounced across the water surface, disappearing off into the distance. You jump triumphantly, searching around to see if anyone was around to witness your achievement. You were alone, but it didn't bother you much.

It would be something for you to tell Mouse when he came home.

And he always came home.

Just like he promised he would.

[sourwolf-sterek32]

Terminus ( Daryl Dixon x Reader One-shot )

Summary: Terminus. It was not a sanctuary for all. It was far from it and little did you know today was about to turn into the worst day of your life as you sat in front of a blood stained metal tub. Your life minutes away from crashing down around you as you looked through teary eyes at your brother, Sam.

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: mentions of death, descriptions of death, mentions of blood, gore, just basic twd stuff

A/N: Yes I know those photos are Sam Winchester but the reader isn’t a Winchester, the readers brother is called Sam and I pictured him while I wrote this. Also, I was in a really sad mood when I wrote this, like I was very emotional that day and this was how I dealt with those emotions by writing a sad one-shot. Sorry not sorry.

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Side note- I hate Tumblr’s new font on text posts, so if you guys do as well you can find this fic and all my others on my AO3 and Wattpad accounts, link for those in my bio at the bottom of my masterlist. 

Your hands were tied behind your back, your mouth gaged with some kind of cloth or rag. You were forced onto your knees in front of a large metal tub which had blood stains painted through it. You had a really bad feeling about this and you weren't afraid to admit that you were scared. Hell, your older brother Sam seemed scared despite their best efforts to hide it. He was the bravest man you know, nothing could scare him, but right now everyone was.

You were between Sam, and Glenn, but you knew Daryl, Rick and Bob were further down the tub on your right. The men from Terminus were all wearing blood-covered aprons as you glanced around the large warehouse. Your stomach turned when you spotted a man across the room cutting a dead body's leg on top of a metal bench. What the hell is this place? What kind of sick people do that?

You turned your attention back to the Terminus men behind you guys when you noticed one of them holding a metal bat as they walked towards the end of the tub.

Before you could even try figure what they were planning the Terminus man swung the bat, slamming it into the back of the guys head who was at the end of the tub, instantly knocking him out cold. What the hell were they doing? You thought to yourself as the other Terminus man grabbed the unconscious guys head before slicing his throat and dropping his body back against the tub. His blood now flowing into the metal tub.

You stared at the man's body in shock, your body beginning to shake in fear. These guys are fucking psychos, you had to get out of here.

Without hesitation you quickly pulled down the large wooden stake you'd broken off from inside the train cart where you guys were being held earlier. You had hidden it up the sleeve of your flannel shirt, but you just hoped it was strong enough to cut through the zip ties around your wrist.

"Hey guys, what were your shot counts?" Gareth's voice suddenly questioned as you looked across the warehouse to find him walking through the door.

"38." One of the men replied before slamming the bat against the next man as you forced yourself to look away. You glanced down the row spotting Daryl who was staring at you, his expression masked, but you knew him. You knew Daryl well enough to know he was panicking and you were too.

"Hey, your shot count?" Gareth questioned turning your attention back to the men.

"Crap man, I'm sorry. This is my first round up." The man with the knife replied, his voice slightly nervous as he stared over at the leader.

"After you're done here go back to your point and count the shells." Gareth replied as he wrote something down in whatever book he was holding as he began to walk away. No he couldn't leave yet, if he did the others would continue killing you guys.

Without a second thought you tried shouting at him through the gag in your mouth, trying anything to get his attention and distract him. Rick, Daryl and Sam would have a plan, they always came up with a plan, you just had to distract the man for as long as possible.

"What's that honey? I can't hear you." Gareth responded, closing his book and putting it on the bench as he walked over to you. He crouched down on the other side of the tub opposite you as he pulled the gag out of your mouth.

"You don't have to do this. Please. You can take all our stuff and weapons, just let us go." You pleated. You hated begging for your life like this, you knew it sounded pathetic, but it was the only option you had left as you continued to try cut through the zip ties slowly, not wanting them to notice.

"We already took all your stuff, honey." He replied with a sickening grin.

"You can walk away from this, we can work it out. It doesn't have to be like this." You added, but the man shook his head as he put the gag back over your mouth.

"It does. It has to be like this." He stated as he turned his attention over to Rick, crouching down opposite him and taking his gag out.

"I saw you go in the woods with a bag and come out without it. What was in it? You hid it right? In case things went bad? Smart, we'll find it. But it's too dangerous to go out there right now." Gareth said as he pulled a knife out from his belt before grabbing Bob's head and holding the blade to it. "What was in it? I'm curious and it was a big bag."

"Let me take you out there. I'll show you." Rick replied, but it was clear by the slight shake to Gareth's head that he wasn't going to fall for that.

"Not going to happen. But this might." Gareth responded pointing the knife towards Bob's eye.

"AK-47, automatic weapons, night scope, a compound bow and a machete with a red handle. And that's what I'm gonna use to kill you." Rick stated glaring at Gareth who just chuckled before putting his knife back and placing the gag back over Ricks mouth.

"Thanks. Guys, get back to work." Gareth ordered as he walked out the room. Shit.

You watched on in panic as his men continued doing the exact same thing to the next two guys, while you hurriedly worked on moving the wooden stake up and down against your restrains trying desperately to cut them. Your heart pounding against your chest. You had to stop this, your brother was next in line.

This couldn't be happening, it had to be a dream. Your brother couldn't die like this, not after everything you guys had been through. You'd survived this long, he can't die like this. He was the only family you had left, you can't lose him too. You just lost your younger sister when the Governor attacked the prison, she got caught in the crossfire, a bullet piercing straight through her skull. Daryl and Beth had to literally drag you out of prison when walkers began filing in through the broken fences. The only closure you got was to see Daryl kill the bastard who fired the gun and the fact that she died instantly. No pain. No suffering. It was quick and hopefully painless. But this... this was entirely different. You had just found your brother again after the prison fell, you had just got him back only a few days ago. You can't lose him again, you can't lose him forever.

Tears were now tricking from your eyes as you looked over at your brother. He was staring at you with glazed over eyes from his unshed tears giving you a small nod and if it wasn't for the gag over his mouth you could have sworn he was smiling at you. Why was he smiling? This couldn't be happening... You can't lose him too.

Your eyes glanced over at the Terminus men dropping the last guy back down against the tub, his blood now mixing in with the others.

You screamed into the rag covering your mouth, trying anything to get the men away from your brother, but it was too late. The bat came swinging down against the back of Sam's skull before they slit his throat.

Tears were now pouring down your face as you somehow managed to slice through the zip ties around your hands. Without hesitation you quickly stood up pushing the man with the knife away from your brother. His lifeless body falling to the ground, blood pouring from his neck.

"You'll die for that!" You screamed slamming the wooden stake into the man's shoulder, but before you could do anything else the other man grabbed you from behind. You couldn't move, he had your arms pinned behind your back and you knew there was no way out of this. But you didn't care, you didn't care about anything anymore as you looked through teary eyes at your brothers limp, pale body laying on the cement in a pool of his blood.

You felt the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple and you closed your eyes waiting for him to end it. But before the man could pull the trigger something suddenly exploded from outside, shaking the entire warehouse.

You fell to the ground from the explosion, the Terminus man hitting the deck behind you as his finger bumped the trigger, the bullet piercing through your left thigh as you cried out in pain.

The next few minutes went by in a blur. You were vaguely aware of the gunshots in the distance and Rick somehow getting out of his restraints and killing the two Terminus men before cutting Daryl, Glenn and Bob's restraints off. But all you could do was stare at your brothers dead body by the metal tub. Your hands covering your mouth trying to muffle your sobs.

"Sammy." You whimpered not bothering to try stop the tears falling down your cheeks. He's gone. He died and you didn't do anything to stop it. What kind of sister were you?

"They got problems. We got a chance." Rick stated from somewhere to your right.

"It sounded like a bomb." Someone else added, but you weren't listening until a set of hands grabbed your shoulders.

"Y/N? Hey, look at me. Look me." Someone shouted, shaking your shoulders gently, but you couldn't take your eyes off your brother, your hand still over your mouth as you tried to hold back tears. You felt something wrapping around your bleeding thigh as you winced at the sudden pain, snapping you away from your brother as you spotted a familiar red rag being tied around your leg. "Y/N? Please girl, ya gotta look at me." The same voice said and suddenly you realised it was Daryl as you lifted your head. Your red brimmed eyes locking with his panicked blue ones as you gave him a small nod. You knew you needed to be strong, you had to be strong if you wanted to get out of this, you didn't have a choice. You could cry later, right now your friends were in danger and you weren't going to let anyone else die today.

"Y/N, I'm sorry, but we gotta go." Rick called from the other side of the room causing Daryl to quickly stand up holding his hand out for you. You took his hand, groaning at the sudden pain in your thigh as you put weight on your left leg.

"Can ya walk?" Daryl asked and you nodded, not trusting your voice at the moment before he handed you a knife from one of the benches as the two of you ran over to Rick, Glenn and Bob on the other side of the room. The bullet wound burning in pain after every step as you moved on pure adrenaline.

Daryl stayed by your side the entire time as the group of you walked through a door that lead to a different room. Dead bodies hanging off meat hooks from the ceiling, arms, legs and heads all cut off as you forced yourself to look away. Who the hell were these people?

"Cross any of these people you kill them. Don't hesitate, they won't." Rick stated and with that you all made your way outside. Walkers were roaming the courtyard, Terminus people running around either shooting at the walkers or just purely running for their lives.

It didn't take you guys long to kill most the Terminus people, although Gareth and couple others were nowhere to be seen. Rick unlocked the train cart door, letting Michonne, Carl, Maggie, Glenn, Rosita, Tara, Abraham and Eugene out and with the group of you, you managed to cut through enough walkers to get to the fence.

"Up and over!" Rosita yelled, throwing a large blanket over the top of the barbed wire fence as everyone began climbing over.

"I-I can't. Not with my leg." You began to mumble taking a step away from the fence, the pain in your leg starting to really kick in as it gave way from underneath you. Daryl quickly grabbed you from behind stopping you from hitting the ground.

"I'll help ya. I ain't lettin' ya die too." He responded as he wrapped his arm around your waist helping you walk over to the fence as him and Rick somehow managed to get you over the fence as you landed on the dirt on the other side of the fence with a thud.

"Oh my God, you're shot." Maggie suddenly said as she helped you back onto your feet before Daryl and Rick climbed the fence.

"We need to get that bag of guns, Daryl?" Rick asked looking over at his brother as Daryl glanced over to you. He clearly didn't want to leave you alone, but you gave him a reassuring nod as you leant against Maggie for support.

"It's this way." Daryl suddenly said as he began tracking back to where you guys had buried the bag. Maggie helped you walk, Glenn walking on the other side of you in case you lost your balance.

After a few minutes Daryl pointed to the ground, kicking a few leaves to expose a small shovel before handing it to Rick as he began digging up the bag.

"I got her." Daryl said walking back over to you as Maggie and Glenn nodded giving the two of you some space. "Sit down for a bit, let me see it." Daryl said gently and you nodded as he carefully helped you sit down, the others all watching you with concern as Rick continued digging for the bag.

"We don't have any bandages or medical equipment." Abraham stated from somewhere behind you and you nodded. The bullet had gone all the way through so that was good, but you didn't care. You didn't even care that you'd been shot. Your brother's dead and you were still alive. It shouldn't be like that, he was stronger, he was smarter, he was braver, it should have been you.

"We got medical supplies." A familiar voice suddenly called as you looked across the woods to find Carol walking towards the group of you with Daryl's crossbow in her hands. It was her. She caused the distraction back in Terminus.

In a split second Daryl was up and jogging over to her, wrapping her up in a tight hug and despite everything that has had happened you couldn't help the small smile on your face. You had thought she was dead after Rick kicked her out the prison.

"Did you do that?" Rick asked as Daryl pulled away from her taking a few steps back and Carol nodded before Rick pulled her into a hug.

"You have to come with me." Carol suddenly said looking over at the rest of you before her eyes landed on you, spotting the blood seeping through the rag around your thigh and down your jeans. But that wasn't what she was worried about, she was staring into your red eyes and you knew she was starting to put together what happened. Her eyes quickly scanned the rest of the group before she looked back at you with a sad expression.

"Your brother... oh my God." Carol whispered walking over to you in realisation as she dropped to her knees besides you and wrapped you up in a hug. "I'm so sorry."

You had to blink back tears as she pulled away from you before leading the group to whatever she wanted you to see. Daryl was immediately by your side, helping you up as you all reached a road and began following it until Carol veered off down a dirt path towards a small wooden cabin.

You were kinda zoned out as you all walked towards the cabin. Images of filling your mind of your brothers lifeless body and his teary eyes as he looked at you, that small smile on his face as he stared at you for the last time.

Suddenly Rick, Carl and Sasha began sprinting towards the cabin, snapping you out of your thoughts. And that's when you saw them. Tyrese holding baby Judith walking out the cabin. They were alive.

You watched as Tyrese handed Rick his daughter, him and Carl hugging her with tears of joy as Sasha ran over to her brother, pulling him into a hug. Suddenly a wave of emotion hit you as you watched the brother and sister hug. You weren't ever going to hug Sam again, he was gone and the last conversation the two of you had was a stupid argument.

"I don't need you constantly looking over me! I'm not a little girl anymore, Sam. I can take care of myself!" You yelled in frustration as the two of you walked back towards the group who were currently camped by a few broken down cars on the side of the road for the night.

"Really? Because I just had to save your life back there. You didn't even see the walker sneaking up behind you." Sam responded, crossing his arms over his chest and you knew he was right. You were stupid and let your guard down when you spotted the squirrel in the tree. You were so focused on hunting the damn animal that you forgot about the dead walking around and if it wasn't for your brother, you would have been bit.

"I had it handled!" You lied causing your brother to throw his hands in the air in defeat.

"Whatever. Daryl, she's all yours." Your brother stated as the two of you reached the group who were all watching you in a mix of confusion and amusement. You and your brother rarely fought, most siblings fought all the time, but you two rarely did. Although the last couple of weeks were really starting to take its toll on you. First Beth got taken away and then the Claimers happened and now you were all literally moving from house to house to survive. It was all just starting to get to you and you couldn't control your anger, your brother just happened to be there when you snapped.

"Ya alright?" Daryl questioned pushing himself up from the tailgate of an old beat up truck as he walked over to you.

"Yeah, just got in a stupid argument with my brother. It doesn't matter, let's cook up these squirrels." You replied holding up the three squirrels you had tied to rope around your shoulder as Daryl nodded wrapping his arm over your waist as the two of you walked back over to the group.

"We have medical supplies in the cabin. Y/N come inside, we'll get your leg fixed up." Tyrese's voice suddenly called snapping you out of your flashback as you glanced over at him. His arm wrapped over his sisters shoulder and that was all it took for the tears to come rushing back into your eyes. You couldn't do this, you couldn't be here around everyone, you just couldn't.

Shaking your head you began taking a few steps backwards away from the group. You could feel everyone watching you as you quickly turned around and began walking off into the woods.

"Was it something I said?" Tyrese asked watching as you walked off before he looked around at the rest of the group in confusion.

"She just lost her brother back there. I'll go talk to her." Daryl responded not waiting for the others to reply as he walked off in the direction you had gone. "Y/N?" He called following your tracks until he spotted you sitting down against a tree, you knees bought up to your chest as you rested your head on top. He could tell you were crying by the way your body was trembling as you tried to muffle your sobs.

You didn't even notice Daryl had followed you until he sat down beside you, resting his arm around your shoulders causing you to quickly flinch away at the unexpected contact.

"It's just me." Daryl whispered, leaning his back against the tree as you relaxed into his touch. "M'sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry." He said gently looking down as you buried your face into the crook of his neck unable to control your sobs as he wrapped his arms around your body, holding you closely.

He didn't say anything else as he held you tightly, letting you cry into him. He knew how it felt to lose a brother, he knew you needed to let yourself feel it, but he knew how painful it was. You were there for him when Merle had died, letting him cry into you as he mourned his brothers death and he was gonna make sure he did the same for you.

You weren't sure how long you stayed curled up against Daryl's side, but you had stopped crying a while ago. Your body still shaking as you tried to get the imagines of your brothers dead body out your head.

"H-he's gone... He's really gone and the last time I talk to him, I yelled at him... we were arguing... God, he hated me..." You trailed off tears rising in your eyes again as you pulled away from Daryl, sitting yourself up straighter, wincing slightly at the pain in your thigh.

"He didn't hate ya. You're his sister, he loved ya, Y/N, which was why he got so annoyed when ya nearly got bit." Daryl replied looking over at you and you nodded slightly as he wiped a stray tear from you cheek with his thumb.

"Come back to the group with me so we can get your leg stitched up. I know it hurts and I'm not just talkin' about the gunshot wound. Ya have to let yourself feel it and ya don't have to do it alone. Ya got me and Rick and the others, alright? We're here for ya." Daryl said softly, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Thanks, Dixon." You whispered, giving him a sad smile as he stood up, holding his hand out for you. You took it letting him help you to your feet as you winced at the sudden pressure on your left leg.

"You're a tough son of a bitch, Sam would have been proud of ya." Daryl commented causing you to smile ever so slightly as he wrapped his arm around your waist helping you walk back to the others.

There were no happy endings in life. Endings were always the saddest part. There were just happy days, happy moments in life and happy memories that you'd cherish forever. You may be mourning right now but your little sister, your mother, your father, all the family and friends you had lost along the way. They were rejoicing to greet Sam in heaven and one day you will be able to see him again too. But that day was not today.

-

Link to my Masterlist is in my bio.

Tag List: (If you want to be added or removed from the tag list just flick me an ask or a message)

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[dlkardenal]

A Pantser writes a Book 1. - F for Impulse control

(Work in progress cover, the background art is by Klaus Pillon)

"Asgeir survived the Serpent's rise. He heard the thundering sound of Gjallarhorn, he saw the moon and starts devoured by wolves of the night, yet somehow he kept on living among the broken remains of what was once the kingdom of Midgard.

Scavenging weapons for those who still wish to fight, Asgeir is almost killed in a chance encounter and the only thing saving him is a perculiar spear etched with runes and harboring some great power - Gungnir, the spear of the Allfather himself.  Together with a cursed halfbreed and a malicious witch, the young warrior sets out to use Gungnir's power against the Nameless God and the new rulers of Aesgard, taking revenge for the devastation Ragnarök caused."

Hey there, travelers!

First of all, I should apologize for the thinning number of posts here. I assure you this is not a trend, we'll catch up with ourselves, but there's a couple of things going on right now. First, school started again, so I'm back to uni learning about diseases and horrible things. Second, we sent SotS to a professional editor (Hurray!), and while we have a draft 1.5 of the sequel (I'll keep its name a mystery for now), we have yet to recieve beta feedback on that, so we're kind of in the eye of the storm considering writing.

BUT! What can be better to do in such a stituation than start another WIP? Nothing, that can. Absolutely nothing. The story of this WIP is rather interesting, so I thought I'd make it a series within a series, because it's sooo pantser it's almost a charicature.

"A Pantser Writes a Book" is that exact series. It's about my Wednesdays (my day-off mid week) where I'll write as much as I can stomach about an entirely new WIP and comment on exactly how the ideas came to mind. What I hope is for this to be as chaotic and interesting as possible, so fellow pantsers can relate, while plotters get a glimpse into how our mind works. Ready? Let's go then!

One day (to be precise, the day before yesterday) I was walking home, reading news on my phone and somehow my mind kept throwing Nanowar (of Steel)'s Valhalleluja at me like a really persistent youtube ad. If you haven't heard it, here's a link, just so you know the context. The crutch lines were "Hear our prayer philantropic Odin / Viking-friendly, slayer of the giants." That set me onto a really norse-mythology centered train of thought that after a few steps formed into a story idea.

What if a mortal uses Odin's spear, Gungnir to slay giants? That was the core idea, to which a lot of questions instantly arose.

First, why would Odin let go of his spear? Well, how about if he's not alive because Ragnarök happened? What if it's a nordic inspired post-apocalyptic world where the land is slowly sinking under the sea like it's said in the Edda, everything is filled with the remains of battle between the gods, the warriors of Valhalla and the jötnar invaders?

Let's say our MC is a young norse warrior who tries to make a living during the apocalypse scavenging usable weapons and selling them for food in the few shelters where humanity holed up. And by sheer chance, he happens upon the place where Fenrir devoured Odin, and finds his spear.

That sounded so good I already had the first scene in my head, so when I arrived home, I sat down and started writing. I wrote around 900 words in an hour, then another 600 or so today, ending up with 1,5k for an intro sequence. More than that, my impulse control lacked so badly I ended up creating a spaceholder cover for it, and I even put it up to Wattpad.

If you're interested in the end result, here's a link to it: https://www.wattpad.com/story/241168064-after-the-gods

Before you cry "crucify him", this is not a promo for my Wattpad account (that would be really shitty). This is just commentary about the process and I find it much more practical to show you the end result this way (also, I feel way more safe with Wattpad's copyright stuff so I can freely throw this at you without having to go the extra mile).

So, don't hesitate to tell me what you think about the story, about this whole idea, about my writing style, whatever comes to your mind. I'll try to keep the series semi-spoilery, so I'll only comment things you can read in that week's segment. Go read it if you'd like, then come back and read my overly energetic chipmunk styled notes.

See you next week, travelers!

Cheers,

Dar

[stony-feels1776]

Recovery - Chapter One. Tragedy.

Hey all!

Chapter one to my Stony fic - Recovery.

Warnings:  Bad Angst, pain, blood, etc.

chapter two: https://stony-feels1776.tumblr.com/post/172014265099/recovery-home-chapter-two

{More under the Read More}

Link to it on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/546540151-recovery-stony-tragedy-chapter-one

"Steve Rodgers, you irritate me." Tony Stark said, running a hand through his silky brown hair, eyeing Captain America with conflicted brown eyes. They were sitting in a restaurant, in a red-themed booth. Steve was sitting across from Tony, looking out the window, a smile on his dashing face.

"Tony, you know you love me," Steve said, turning his attention to Tony again. His breath hitching, Tony looked into Steve's dazzling blue eyes. He started to fidget with his fingers, glancing away. No. He was not in love. He didn't love Steve Rodgers. Nope. Not a chance in hell.

"I actually hate you," Tony said, one eyebrow going up, real smooth, "I thought we had accomplished that." Nice, Tony. Cover up your feelings with sarcasm. "Friday, what's the weather like today?" Tony asked his watch, where FRIDAY, an AI designed to help Tony, was listening.

"Sunny, with 2 miles per hour of wind. Zero chance of rain. Fifty-seven degrees Fahrenheit." FRIDAY answered quickly. Tony smiled, missing JARVIS (his previous and - don't tell FRIDAY - his favorite AI). FRIDAY was brilliant, and Tony was proud of himself for her creation.

"Perfect. Thank you, Friday." Tony said, to which FRIDAY gave her usual 'anytime, sir.' "So, Cap, it's nice outside. Are we going to sit here for hours? What a boring first date. I expected better from you, Captain Romance." Tony joked, ignoring all of his feelings.

Steve laughed his warm, soft laugh. "Tony, you were the one who invited me here." He exclaimed, smiling, running a hand quickly through his gorgeous blonde hair.

"Only because you were so clearly dying to take me out on a date that I did it for you," Tony said instantly. He was a genius, so of course, he could make a clever comeback for anything.

"Oh, Tony Stark, I adore you," Steve said in a flirtatious tone, blinking, smiling sweetly, holding his head in one of his hands. Tony opened his mouth, but no words came out quickly, so he just chuckled. He didn't blush. Could Tony Stark blush? Add that to the list of mysteries. "But seriously, I acted like that because we need to have a serious conversation."

"Really? Cap, I hate conversing and being serious isn't n my nature." Tony put on his sunglasses and glanced out the window. "Make it quick, because I get bored faster than you can run,"

"Pepper's deciding that she..." Steve paused. Tony should have stood by now and walked out. Instead, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes showed concern and curiosity. "She doesn't want to see you anymore."

"What?" Tony said, laughing a little. "Captain is-to-stupid-to-know-not-to-fuck-with-Tony-Stark, you better not-..." Tony cut himself off, looking out the window in confusion. His heart ached. Not Pepper. He couldn't lose Pepper. He bit his tongue and his nostrils flared. Great fucking job, Tony fucking Stark.

"I'm sorry, Tony, but it's true. She met with me two weeks ago." Steve explained, a sorry smile on his face. Tony bit his tongue harder. What an idiot he'd been.

Tony stood, planting his hands on the table. He swallowed hard, breathing in. "Thanks, Cap," he said effortlessly, faking a smile. Boy, was he ever good at that? "Hopefully I won't see you around." And then Tony left, walking out the door.

He clicked his watch and his suit formed around him. He took off as quickly as possible, soaring into the cloudless blue sky, his thoughts not being nice at all.

"How could I lose her, Friday?" Tony said, hovering in the air.

"Sir, we should go home," FRIDAY responded, ignoring Tony's cry for help. She was an AI, not a therapist. Tony felt a pang of sorrow. JARVIS would have tried to help him.

"Fuck you, Friday," Tony said, taking in a shaking breath and exhaling for as long as he could. He then leaned down and flew back towards Stark Tower, landing with a thud on the roof. He clicked the area of his suit above where his watch was and the suit deactivated, returning to its state in the watch. Looking at the sky, everything felt hopeless again.

Night came quickly, and Tony crawled into bed, wishing he could fall asleep and wake up in a different time. A time where Pepper loved him still. A time Steve Rodgers didn't gain any of Tony's attention. A time where he wasn't Iron Man, just a simple genius billionaire, living with Pepper, not having any involvement with the Avengers.

He fell asleep quickly.

Then he fell.

Tony's breathing was ragged as he fell out of the sky. He couldn't breathe. Once he hit the ground, the world went black, but then everything was a dark blue. Steve and Pepper were lying there, dead. "Your fault..." Pepper whispered, while Steve's eyes closed and tears traveled gently down his cheeks.

Tony shook them, begging for them to wake up, listening to their breathing stop, their blood covering him, encasing him. It dried on him and he couldn't move, he could just cry.

And then he fell again, watching as he fell from the hole as Steve and Pepper were murdered by another copy of Tony, who looked up and smirked.

And when Tony hit the ground this time, he woke up and screamed, clawing at his chest, closing his eyes tight, crying.

-----

Tony took a burning shower, ignoring how his body screamed for him to stop the burning. He didn't even bother to wash up. He simply stood there, staring at the pristine white tiles. He rubbed his chest, watching the arc reactor glow. He ran his fingers over it.

It would be awfully simple to pull it out right now.

"Sir?" FRIDAY said, her Irish voice filling the house, "Ms. Potts is here."

Tony gasped for air, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. He took his hand away from his chest and rubbed his eyes, feeling lightheaded. He turned off the water and almost lost his balance as he dried himself off and quickly threw on a simple grey shirt and some jeans. He ran a hand through his knotted, wet hair, and traveled quickly downstairs.

He opened the door. Pepper. "I'm sorry," Tony said instantly.

"Tony, I assume Captain America told you everything?" She asked, holding a suitcase and calmly staring back at Tony.

"No. I mean - he told me that... uh, we were over." Tony said, holding back tears as he stared at Pepper.

"I care about you, Tony," She began, "but I... got a job offer. For the NSA. I have to join. But they said... they said for security reasons, I had to terminate my relationship with you." She noticed the lost look in Tony's eyes. "Tony, we can still be friends." She added quickly.

"That'd be great. Now, I have lots of work. Be safe. The NSA can be dangerous." He said quickly, faking a pleased and proud smile. He closed the door. "Friday, keep her out. But keep records on her. Everything big, tell me. We gotta.... keep her safe. Always." Tony said to the air before sitting down on the couch. He picked up his phone.

Three missed messages from Captain Nice Ass.

"Tony, where are you? God, are you mad at me? I'm sorry." "Tony, I'm concerned about you." "Tony. New mission. Meet us ASAP. At Clint's farm. Please."

Tony stared at these messages. He broke into tears. Why did Steve even care? What mission? All Tony wanted to do was hide and sleep. He wiped his eyes pathetically, whimpering. He sighed and looked around. He was fine.

"Friday, I'm going to Clint's farm. Lock up the tower," he walked out the door and clicked his watch again before flying off into the sky, thinking only of work. He wondered what mission this could be. Some positive things came out of Pepper leaving him; now he didn't have to worry about endangering her, and he could have crushes without feeling immensely guilty.

He landed quietly on Clint's farm. "Alright, fuckers, what's up now?" Tony said loudly, the metal mask disappearing. His brown eyes scanned the farm. Sitting on benches and on the ground was: Clint, Steve, Natasha, Vision, Wanda, Thor, and Peter.

"You decided to bring the child?" Tony demanded, feeling rage fill up his chest, pointing at Peter and glaring at Steve, who must have been the one to assemble the team. Peter looked awkwardly down at the ground, scratching the back of his head. He looked like he wanted to speak up, but knew better.

"He's not a child. He's going to help us fight, Tony." Steve stood. God damn him for being taller than Tony. Peter shuffled his feet and nodded.

"Mr. Stark, I'm not a child." He said awkwardly, "And I want to help! You gave me this suit and all... and I just figured I could be of some use. I just want to be like you. Help people, y'know?" Peter chimed, looking worried.

Tony couldn't help but think dark thoughts. He wasn't helpful. "And I don't want you to be like me, kid," Tony said bitterly, sighing, "but I guess I can't stop you." He hated how pathetic and weak and how out of control his voice sounded. He cleared his throat quietly. He hated the sympathetic eyes Steve was giving him. "Alright, you ignorant fucks, what's on our agenda?"

"Stop cursing," Steve said, "okay. So-"

Clint cut him off, "My daughter's been taken. Lila." Clint looked as hard as a rock, his eyes hard and emotionless. However, the bags under his eyes and how red his eyes looked proved otherwise. Tony wasn't sure what to say. Peter looked down again. Steve pat Clint on the back gently and Natasha side-hugged him gently.

Part of Tony wanted to point out that some random, not-so-powerful, regular-but-bad human could have captured Clint's daughter. Instead, he went with, "Well, I guess we're going to have to kill that bitch." Clint almost smiled. Tony blinked and swallowed. Okay.

"I can find whoever did this on my own. I don't know why you'd need the whole team when all you need is me." Tony said, his thrusters turning on. He was now taller than Steve. He shot a triumphant smirk at Steve, even though he didn't seem to notice.

Clint paused and looked terrified. "No. What if something happens to you?" He paused again. "What if they kill her because of you or something? Oh, God, Tony, no, you can't go." Tony's eye twitched at this. What the hell could that mean? They were more likely to kill her if they were all there.

"I can do this, Clint. Go be with your wife. She'll need you." Tony said quickly in a slightly demanding voice. Clint was stubborn but God knows that Tony could outlast everyone. Besides, Clint's wife really did need him.

Clint hesitated but nodded. "Please, take someone with you, Tony. Please."

"Me, myself, and I are going. Kid, make sure they stay here. That's an order. You all have to protect Clint and his family while I'm gone. I'll find her. I'll tell you when I do." Tony took off immediately. He would find her. He could work alone. He wanted to be alone. He couldn't put any of them at risk.

Or take the risk of being alone with Steve Rodgers.

He couldn't be in love with that man.

No.

----

Tony entered the cave, breathing heavily in his suit. It was pouring rain outside. He was in a forest in Central America. FRIDAY said that security cameras had caught her and a masked man just north of the forest heading inside of it.

Tony took the mask off and breathed in the fresh air. It was humid as fuck down here, and Tony was dying of heat.

Then there was rustling. Then Tony was kicked down.

And three people stood around him. One was holding a gun to Tony's head, one was Clint's daughter, and the other one was holding a gun to the quivering girl's head.

"Let her go." Tony hissed immediately.

"No... I don't think so." Their voice was distorted, but it was easy to tell they were using a cheap voice changer. They pressed the gun harder on Tony's forehead, making him wince as it dug into his temples. The gun cocked.

Tony winced and looked at Clint's daughter, who looked remarkably brave. "Let her go, and you can do whatever you want to me. I don't care. Just... let her go." Tony said, his voice getting higher. He tried to move his hand sneakily, but his attacker stomped on it, and Tony heard the blasters shatter.

"We're in a forest," the other man said, quickly, whispering, "she'll never survive five minutes out there. Plus, then we don't have to deal with a defiant Stark and a crying girl."

The other man seemed to be considering it. While they were looking at each other, Tony grabbed his helmet and whispered to FRIDAY, "Please. Help her find her way home. I don't know where they'll take me. Keep her safe, Friday." He looked at the girl and pointed to the door, then to his helmet. She seemed to understand. He set it out as close to the entrance as he could as silently as possible.

"Fine. Go." The one holding the gun to Tony's head said. The girl scampered away, quickly grabbing the helmet and sprinting as far as she could.  

Tony smirked up at his attackers. "Well, I'm all yours, love, what now?"

----

Tony woke up, dried blood all over his face. His vision was blurry and the dim room was too bright for him. He winced, his head pounding. He was chained to the wall, being held up by the chains. He leaned his head against the wall and tried to breathe. He could taste dirt and grime in his mouth. And something acidic. Maybe he threw up earlier. The whole place smelled rancid.

Tony blinked a few times, and then someone yanked his hair. Hard. His scalp burned as he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw against the pain. "Well, good morning! Thought you'd never wake up. It's not fun beating up someone who's not alive!"

The attacker's fist connected with his ribs. Tony gasped and groaned in pain. Another one, the exact same spot. Tony felt like crying, but there was too much dirt in his throat to allow anything but dry sobbing noises.

"Did you let her go?" Tony demanded. His attacker laughed and punched him another time. He could basically hear and feel his rib snapping.

----

"Hello, ma'am. My name is FRIDAY. I work for Mr. Stark." The computer's voice scared Lila so badly she dropped the helmet and leaped away from it. "There is no need to be afraid. I am going to help you get to your father. I have already updated the team of our coordinates. They will be here soon."

Lila stared at the helmet, picking it up. It was a little heavy, but she'd helped her father with firewood before, so she was good at carrying heavy things. "Can I talk to daddy?" She said quietly.

The phone didn't even get a chance to ring before Natasha picked up. The whirl of helicopter blades was very audible. "Lila?" Natasha said instantly, listening and talking like her life depended on it.

"Auntie Nat! I'm in the forest. Mr. Stark gave me his helmet and his Friday. Please," she started crying, "come get me. I'm scared." Nat made a choking noise.

"Honey, we're almost there. Keep talking to me. We're almost there." Natasha said. Clint started flying faster until they landed a few hundred feet away from Lila. Once the plane landed, Lila ran towards the helicopter. Natasha caught her, holding her tight. Clint walked over and hugged them both, tears going down his face silently. He couldn't lose his family.

"Where's Mr. Stark?" Peter asked.

"They... took him. He told them they could have him instead. He gave me this," she showed them the helmet, "and told me to run." Peter looked confused.

"FRIDAY, where is Tony?" Natasha asked.

"I do not know. Tony's suit was deactivated, and so was all tracking functions." FRIDAY answered. "However, I believe that they would have headed north. Satelite imagery suggests there's a small compound that way."

"Take her home. I'll find Tony," Steve volunteered. "Peter, Thor, Nat, protect them. We don't know if they still want to attack them." Steve was already in his suit and he grabbed his shield, hopping out of the helicopter. Clint nodded and saluted him.

Steve ran into the forest.

-----

The building couldn't be found. Even with FRIDAY's help, no one could re-locate the building that was seen by the satellites.

It's been a week. No sign of Tony Stark.

Steve was beginning to panic. He and Natasha kept looking for him. But then Steve told her to go back to protecting Clint because Thor and Peter both had to return home.

-----

Tony groaned in pain as the chains slipped off his arms and legs. He fell to the ground with a thud, dust flying into his mouth and eyes. The men stepped on his fingers and one kicked him in the ribs. Tony could barely breathe, and dark spots swam in his vision.

Stay awake. Stay awake. Don't give in, Tony thought, but I want to die. Death would be better than this. He groaned. No. Stay for the Avengers. Stay for Steve. Stay to rub all this in Clint's face.

Tony was helped to his feet before he was slammed against the wall. "Now, honey, we've got something new for you. You're going to run. Up and down the stairs. Or the punishment," the man balled his fist, "will be much worse."

Tony stood upright and almost passed out immediately. He tried to walk, even. But everything hurt too much. He took another step and collapsed, shaking, sobbing. He could barely breathe. He let himself drop into unconsciousness.

----

"Vision! Hey!" Steve yelled into his phone. Vision could find Tony.

Or, at least, Steve hoped so.

"I'm here, Steve Rodgers. I heard about Tony's disappearance. I assume you've called to see if I could help you find him? Well. You're in luck." Vision answered, sounding full of themselves but also worried.

Steve gasped. "Really? Where is he?" Steve almost shouted, smiling, because however worried he may be, he was now a billion steps closer to rescuing Tony.

"He's underneath you." Vision said. His voice didn't display any emotion. Steve's heart dropped.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked, his voice going quiet and solemn. No. Tony could not be dead. Steve looked at his feet. There was a flower. A red dahlia. Tony's favorite.

"Pull the flower out of the ground." Vision instructed.

"No!" Steve protested, his emotions piling up. He felt confused. No. Tony wasn't dead. He couldn't be. He was 'The Invincible Iron Man.' No.

"Do it. It'll open up the stairs, Steve Rodgers." Vision said.

Steve reached down and yanked on the flower. Sure enough, a secret door opened. Vision hung up. Steve walked down the stairs, keeping his shield close to his body. He walked carefully. To his surprise, there were no guards. No one to stop him.

Then he heard whimpering. Tony.

Steve turned the corner and watched through a broken area in the stone walls. There, he saw Tony curled up on the ground, weakly covering his head, being kicked and violently messed with.

"Get up!" One of the men - who were dressed completely in black - commanded. Tony weakly stood up, shaking. His eyes were blood red and his face and neck were covered in bruises. His nose, mouth, and chin were stained red. "Run around this room three times and then do four jumping jacks. You black out, I swear we'll beat you to the brink of death."

And so Tony tried to run. Steve watched him as he held his ribs and his face turned an ugly shade as he struggled to breathe. Tony collapsed, gasping for air. "P-p-please d-don't!" Tony cried as they picked him up by the arms again. The taller man raised his fist and Tony slumped to the ground just before the slim man tried to punch him.

"Stop!" Steve yelled, making them turn to him. He ran through the door and hit both of them with his shield. Hard enough to severely injure them. "Tony," Steve begged, kneeling on the ground, not daring to touch the injured man.

"Vision? Anyone! Come in, please! Tony's injured. Really badly. Please. He's barely breathing and I don't know if we can move him." Steve said, hoping someone heard him.

----

Wanda had lifted Tony out with her powers. No one touched him. Clint cried upon seeing him. He claimed it was his fault. It wasn't. Steve could barely recognize him. His nose was broken and his face was covered in blood. They'd taken off his shirt - luckily, the arc reactor had been left alone. They must have known to leave it be. They wanted Tony alive. His sides were completely black and purple. They said it was a miracle he had survived.

They said that there was a chance he could die now, on that operating table.

They had to fix his ribs. They were going to try to fix his nose. Clean him up. They had to relocate his knee and his shoulder. Three toes were broken. Almost all of his fingers were broken.

They asked Steve to leave the room.

So he did, hoping that he'd see Tony again.

----

Pepper Potts showed up quickly. Everyone Tony knew well was there. Pepper, Thor, Peter, Bruce, Clint, Natasha, Fury, Wanda, and Vision.

No one said anything.

Steve hated the silence. He wanted someone to say something. However, when Steve tried to speak, a miserable croaking noise came out and he bit back sobs.

"This was all my fault," Clint said, rubbing his forehead and his eyes. "I should have... been home. I should have watched her. I should have protected her." He paused. "I shouldn't have let Tony go alone." His voice cracked.

"It's not your fault-" Everyone (but Peter) chimed in instantly.

Two weeks passed. Every day, they'd meet up again and wait, unless one of them was busy.

----

They waited for hours.

Then the nurse invited Pepper in.

When she came out, she was crying.

Steve asked her why.

Because Tony told a joke when he first woke up.

"He said," Pepper said, wiping her eyes, "'I loved this. What a great nap. I could totally sleep for seventy years - just maybe not in ice.'"

"That insane fucker," Steve caught himself saying, smiling. Glad to know Tony was still in there. "How's he doing?"

"Stable. They say he'll 100% live," she frowned, "but he'll be in pain. For a long time." Everyone's happy faces dropped a little. "But good news. The doctor isn't a normal doctor. They fixed him up pretty damn good. He'll have some difficulty walking and stuff, but her technology was able to help a lot." She said.

"Can I see him?" Steve finally asked.

"Actually, he asked to see you, Steve. Then you, Clint." Pepper explained.

Steve walked through the door.

Tony was bandaged but looked better. He even smiled at Steve. "Ah, Stevie Starry Pants, welcome!" He said, awfully cheerful. "I'm on morphine, my dear friend! Basically high. Anyways, how's life?" Tony asked.

"How're you?" Steve asked in return, smiling. He sat down on a chair next to Tony. Tony's eyes were half-way closed as he reached over and grabbed Steve's hand. Tony's hands were bandaged and he assumed that however, the (quite remarkably pretty) doctor fixed the rest of his broken bones, she did that to his fingers as well. As Steve touched Tony's hand, his skin was broken and it felt... unnatural. Tony's skin was always so soft. Steve held Tony's hand as he looked at the ceiling.

"I'm fine. How long was I gone for?" Tony asked.

"Two and a half weeks. And then you were sleeping for another two weeks." Steve answered. Tony tried to shake his head but ended up wincing in pain. Tony's grip tightened on Steve's hand.

"Do you think Clint could handle an I-told-you-so?" He asked, forcing a smile.

"Yes. No. Uh- maybe." Steve answered, offering a weak smile. He put his other hand on top of Tony's. Sighing, he closed his eyes. "God, Tony, we were so worried-" he stopped, shaking his head. He fought back the tears that wanted to come.

Tony looked down. His bruised jaw shifted as Tony thought of something to say. "I didn't think you'd ever find me," his voice quivered weakly, "and I almost gave up." his voice broke on 'gave.'

Steve looked into Tony's desperate eyes. "Tony Stark, I want to help you," Steve said. He knew Tony would need help. Pepper would abandon her job in an instant to help Tony, but Steve wouldn't let her. He'd be the one to help Tony.

"Stevie Rodgers, if I had the strength, I'd use this vulnerable and heartfelt moment to kiss you, but since I can't, can you plant your lips right on mine? No making out yet, though, because my jaw's still tender." Tony looked nervous and confident; hurt and immortal, powerful and weak.

Steve hesitated. The words didn't make sense in his brain. Tony watched him, his eyes watering up as he pulled his hand back. "I was kidding, Rodgers. I couldn't care less about your affection. Really, I could-" Tony suddenly began sobbing. He was shaking, unable to move and hide. 'I'm sorry-" Tony began to apologize.

Steve gently grabbed Tony's chin and leaned down, kissing him gently. Tony stopped sobbing instantly and gently kissed back. They sat in this bliss for a few seconds, Tony's hand slowly reaching as far as he could to touch Steve's back.

Then the door opened. Tony pulled back, eyes wide, face flushed.

Steve did it. He solved one of the mysteries. Tony Stark could blush. Covering his eyes, Clint walked back out. Steve smiled down at Tony, grabbing his hand again. "Tony Stark, I love you," Steve said. He'd bitten back the feeling of 'love' ever since Peggy died.

But now it was bubbling over. He stared down at Tony, who was chuckling, wigging his toes, biting his lip. "God, I fucking love you too," Tony said, opening his mouth and laughing, almost like he couldn't believe this was happening.

Steve couldn't believe it either.

"You better go make sure Clint doesn't snitch on us," Tony said finally. His face twitched and Steve didn't want to go, but he smiled, nodded, and left.

Clint was sitting, his hands over his face. He looked like he was either going to cry or laugh. Steve patted him on the back. "Go on, Clint. Tony wants to talk to you." Clint cleared his throat and gave Steve a look that Steve couldn't describe. It was packed with all the emotions at once.

Clint walked through the doors and sat down next to Tony.

"I told you I'd get her to you safe," Tony said smugly, staring at the ceiling. Clint bit his cheek, wanting to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Thank you, Tony." Was all Clint could say.

They sat in silence for a while.

"Don't tell anyone about how I forced Steve to kiss me," Tony said quietly, his hands shaking. He held them up and watched them, curling his lip at them, angry at his unsteady hands.

"What?" Clint said, "Explain. Please,"

"Okay. I said 'what? No goodbye kiss? God, I nearly die and you still won't treat me like the gentleman I am, Captain Bad-at-romance.' So he kissed me. It was completely platonic. He felt the need to kiss me on the lips. I ask you for a kiss, too. That's how you can repay me, by the way. Or, that's the start of it, at least. Right on the cheek, please." Tony said, speaking too much too quickly. He hoped Clint wasn't bright enough to catch his lie.

Clint smiled and laughed. "God, Tony, you're such an attention-seeking, lovable, foolish but powerful, loser!" He exclaimed, leaning down to give Tony a soft kiss on the cheek. Tony smiled, quite proud of himself, and made a shooing motion with his hand.

"Send some more paparazzi in!" Tony cried, grinning.

----

It had been a week since Tony had woken up. he was still confined to the hospital. Steve stayed with him for hours. Today, Tony would be going home at three o'clock. It was noon right now, which gave them plenty of time in the hospital still.

"I miss the morphine high," Tony said, frowning. Steve remembered the first day they took him off of morphine. Tony was groaning all day, sometimes gasping for air, sometimes complaining. He'd ordered pizza that day and ended up puking all over himself. That was two days ago. Tony was feeling better now.

God bless the doctor. No one knew who she was besides that she didn't live in America and was truly brilliant.

Tony stood up. He almost fell over, clenching his jaw as tight as he could as his body seared with a burning sensation.

Steve quickly grabbed Tony's arm, steadying him.

This would be a long recovery.

But Steve would always be there for Tony.

And so the path to recovery starts.

//Authors note//

Hey all! My name is Aeron, and I love Stony.

I promised myself not to start another fanfiction.

If you are reading this, please don't get attached!! I love nice comments, but if you rush me then I'll want to work even less!! So, please, you can leave nice comments, joke around, react to stuff, and etc. but please don't just comment asking for a new update!! I'm going to update them in bulk!! If you want to be tagged when I update, please tell me!!

Sorry if this made very little sense, haha. I tried to plan a plot, but that didn't work too well.

Also, I am not very old, so obviously my writing isn't fantastic.

Date: 3/13/18

Word count: 5035

Thanks!

[that-sokovian-bastard]

Mortal Immortal (2/31) - August 2 - Avengers x Reader

Words: 1389 Pairing: Avengers x (f)Reader Characters: Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Vision, Other Avengers (mentioned) Warnings: Swearing probably Chapter Summary: After yesterday's training session turned into learning more about you, it was time to actually work with the twins. Pietro was first, and by showing him another part of your power that is less awesome than it sounds, you show him how to work up to his full ability. Then, more friends join the mix, and more fun ensues! Author's Note: First few parts are introducing this universe, so if it goes a bit slow right now, I promise it will pick up tomorrow. I just want to make sure this universe is established and understood, and by building this up right now will be worth it in the end!

Some "Sokovian" is spoken, but English translation follows it. (Romanian used for Sokovian)

Mortal Immortal Masterlist / Full Masterlist

Ao3 / Wattpad Links

---

The rest of the Tuesday consisted of the Maximoff's asking a million questions about your life. Meaning: you got no training done. The only thing you learned about them was their powers and what they need to work on, and yet, they learned so much about you.

Today you were determined to get through all the things you didn't get accomplished yesterday. Starting with explaining what needs to be taught and things on your list.

"So, Pietro, have you noticed that when you run most times you create lightning?" You asked.

Pietro thought for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, I guess," He shrugged.

You smiled and clapped your hands together. "All right. Have you ever tried throwing it?"

Pietro's eyebrows raised and he leaned forward a little. "What? Say again?"

You smiled, a small giggle followed. "Have you ever tried to throw the lightning your speed creates?"

"No?" Pietro laughed and turned back to Wanda. "E nebună?" (is she crazy?)

Wanda shrugged and made a "shoo" motion with her hands, going to speak Sokovian back to her brother. "Doar ascultă-o!" (Just listen to her.)

You laughed along with them. "Nebun? Doar putin." (Crazy? Only a little.)

Again, the twins look at you like you had three heads. "You speak Sokovian?" Wanda asked, sounding excited that someone on the team knew their language as well.

"Yeah, after being alive for so long, I know a ton of languages. I spent quite a few years in Sokovia and learned it. You'd be surprised by all the languages I know," You told them. "Now, Pietro, I'm going to teach you to throw lightning. And we are not getting distracted!" You pointed. "Wanda, you can go work with Vision, because it might take a while to work on this task," You nodded.

Wanda smiled and agreed. "I'll see you guys later, then," She walked out of the training room, leaving you with Pietro.

You turned to him. "All right, so a little secret comes along with my powers, yeah?" You asked, no response from Pietro. "I can use them to gain other powers for a limited time, you know, in addition to Darwin's theory," You told him.

"O-oh, cool!" He spat out. "Does that mean you're going to give yourself my speed?"

"Well, how else are you going to learn to do it? Learning from seeing someone else do it is a whole lot easier than me trying to tell you to do it and expect you to understand by just words," You said. "Now, watch."

In a second, a flash of yellow engulfed the room, showing that you now have the speedster powers. With a sigh, you quickly made a vacuum around the room with your new speed and harnessed the energy from the speed, grabbing the lightning, and tossing it at the dummy in the corner of the room. Slowing down, you took a deep breath and wiped your hands off. "That always gives me an adrenaline rush! Did you see that, Pietro? We're going to have you learn that."

Pietro tried to form words but all he could do was make sounds that sounded like a baby trying to speak for the first time. That, or the first meeting between you and Tony Stark. Either way, you found it extremely hilarious.

"Let's get started, shall we?" You asked as you walked closer to him. "You know how to make a vacuum, I'm positive. So after the vacuum is made, instead of letting the extra energy fall behind you into nothing, you need to focus to harness the power to be closer to you. Once enough is built up, you can grab the lightning your extra energy made and throw it right at the dummy," You explained. "But that's a lot, so let's just start with making the vacuum and focusing the energy elsewhere."

Pietro, still silent, nodded and began running. You watched as he created the vacuum, and could tell he had the energy closer to him, but he swore at himself and landed on his face when it all fell apart. It was going to be a long day.

---

Finally, after three hours of failing and many broken things in the training room, Pietro was finally catching on. At first, he kept falling because of the energy being too close and uncontrolled, causing it all to disperse and him to start over again. Then, he was able to keep the lightning energy at the right distance, but when he would go to grab it, the timing would be off and the chance would be gone, or he would miss. After he finally got down grabbing the lightning, he kept missing the dummy. Many windows and lights were broken, but in the last half hour of working on this, he hit the dummy twice.

Of course, more work was going to be needed, but he was getting it. And that was enough for you for the first day of practice. Typically, the team would go into the kitchen and get food as needed, or use Tony's credit card to get take-out, but you were hoping that Steve and Natasha remembered about your plan to eat together. This "together" included you, Steve. Natasha, Pietro, Wanda, and Vision as a guest who does not eat. Since you sent Wanda to spend the day with Vision, it would have been rude to exclude him- but you didn't mind, he's always fun to have around.

And to your surprise, you and Pietro walked into the kitchen to find Wanda cooking with Steve and Natasha helping. Vision was sitting on the barstool across from them, watching with a satisfied smile on his face. "This all looks amazing! What are we making?" You asked.

"(Y/N)!" Natasha smiled to you, "Nice of you to join us!"

You laughed and rolled your eyes. "I was working on Pietro's powers, come on, don't give me that shit," You reminded her.

Natasha gave you a look that meant she was just messing with you, and it made Steve and Wanda chuckle. "I'm making a dish that I remember from Sokovia- perfect for a big meal with friends," Wanda nodded and continued cutting ingredients and directing the other two on what to do.

"I would help, but seeing as I never need to eat, I would be unsure if I was doing it correctly," Vision clarified.

You and Pietro quickly joined in to help the prep, making comments and conversation with the group. Everyone was excited to be having a sit-down meal for once, and to catch up with the people who have been away on missions. Natasha and Steve are insanely busy, you were lucky to have both of your best friends home at the same time to do this.

Telling the group about your day, listening to Wanda and Vision's day, and hearing about the missions Natasha and Steve were on, Steve cleared his throat to call attention to himself. "I hate to tell you this, (Y/N), especially since I just got back...but tomorrow I leave with Sam on another mission. Don't ask, please, it's one I can't talk about until it's done," Steve rambled on. "But, it should only be a few days, so it won't be long."

You pouted. "I can't believe you're leaving me again!"

Steve chuckled and looked around the table at his friends. "Well, I think we all deserve a break after this as well, let's all watch a movie together before we get back to work tomorrow," He offered his idea.

"I could use the break," Natasha said and took a bite of her food.

"I love movies!" Wanda smiled. "So, I will always relax enough to watch one."

Pietro and Vision also added that they had no plans and were ready for the movie as soon as it was wanted.

"I guess we're watching a movie!" You squealed. And after dinner, the six of you gathered around the TV to watch a few cartoons. You in between Steve and Natasha, happy to have your closest friends by you for a night. Who knows when something could change, you need to value everything while you have it. You've seen too many friends pass, you weren't going to waste the good things you have.

All of you fell asleep during the third movie.

---

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[aivaehdaevis]

The More Things Change: Ch 12

The More Things Change

by Aivaeh

Disclaimer: Familiar characters, plot elements, and settings belong to L.J. Smith, Julie Plec, and the CW. The author of this work of fanfiction has made no money from it. Summary: I have no idea how it happened, but one morning I woke up in the world of The Vampire Diaries. Which, aside from the insanity of waking up inside a television show made real, might not be so bad—if I weren't stuck in the body of vampire magnet and doppelgänger herself, Elena Gilbert. Pairing(s): OFC x Damon, OFC x Stefan, OFC x Elijah, OFC x Klaus Rating: M Warning(s): Graphic descriptions of violence on par with the show itself. References to sex and drug use. Mind control and all the issues of consent that go along with it. Character death. Master List External Links: AO3 | FF.Net | Wattpad

Chapter Twelve

Author's Notes: There’s legal discussions/matters in this chapter. I should clarify that I’m not a lawyer, have no legal training, have never dealt with criminal court proceedings—adult or juvenile—and basically filled this section out based on what I could garner from some online research. Which you shouldn’t do if you need legal advice. tl;dr Don’t get your legal facts/advice from fanfic. Especially my fanfic.

Mystic Falls’ local jail was nothing more than the basement of the police station. Jenna and I had to sit on a bench outside a series of small interrogation rooms to wait for our chance to visit Jeremy. We’d already spied him, dressed in a light blue jumpsuit, being led by Sheriff Forbes herself from the elevator towards a room that was apparently set up for lawyers and their criminal clients. Jeremy had taken one glimpse at us and hung his head, hair swinging forward to hide his face.

Maria Miller, the attorney from Charlottesville Jenna had hired early this morning, arrived shortly after. She was a short woman—the top of her head barely came up to Elena’s shoulder—who seemed to make up for her lack of stature with an authoritative presence. She marched rather than walked, shoulders thrown so far back it was a wonder they didn’t curve the wrong way. She’d greeted Jenna and I before following Sheriff Forbes, who knew her by name, into the room Jeremy had disappeared into. Liz assured us we’d be able to visit with Jeremy for at least an hour as soon as he was done with counsel.

“You picked a real good attorney, Jenna,” Liz said. “Maria’s gotten better deals than I think some of her clients deserved. In this case, I’m glad she’ll be representing Jeremy.”

“That’s good to know,” Jenna replied, still pale and wan from her meeting with Miller this morning. “She’s going to talk to me as soon as she’s done with Jer, but do you know when we can expect him to see a judge?”

“Well, it’s hard to say for sure. But the docket isn’t too busy. Should be within a few days.”

“Thanks, Liz.”

“No problem.” She looked as if she wanted to say more, but just settled for a tight smile. “You two hang in there.”

We waited for another hour before Miller marched out. She caught sight of Jenna and came straight over.

Jenna stood up as she closed in, and I followed Jenna’s lead. “Thank you for coming,” she said.

“It’s my job,” Miller replied. Sharp brown eyes turned to me. She held out a hand. “You must be Elena, Jeremy’s sister.”

No, but, “Yeah.” My hold was considerably softer than hers as we shook. “Is Jeremy going to get to come home?”

“I was about to discuss that with your aunt,” she replied diplomatically. Right.

“Elena, will you go get me a coke?” Jenna asked, digging a five out of her purse. “And whatever you’d like to drink,” she added as she handed it over.

I guessed this was attorney, client, and client’s guardian talk only. “Sure, Jenna.” I took the five, gave a smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

I wandered off down the hall, hoping I’d find a vending machine sooner rather than later.

I followed the distant tap-tap of fingers on keyboards. It sounded so much like an office, a wave of homesickness flew over me. Biting the inside of my cheek, I soon found myself at the center of what must’ve been the sheriff station.

It was a large room with rows of desks to either side. A computer monitor sat on each one, each the same model a couple years older than the year the show had started in. Tall file cabinets lined the walls between the windows. Some of the desks were manned, men and a few women sorting through files or tapping away at their keyboards.

No sign of a vending machine.

Uncertain what to do, I turned to make my way back down the hallway. I figured I’d wait for a half hour before checking to see if Jenna and the attorney were finished when I nearly ran into Caroline’s mom.

“Elena.” Sharp eyes ran over me. “Lost?” she deduced.

I gave a sheepish smile and hoped the police station wasn’t a place Elena had spent a lot of time. “Looking for the vending machine.”

“In the break room.” Liz led me further through the station to a small room off the side of the hall.

The break room was less than a couple of tables, a handful of folding chairs for each, and a line of counters against the far wall with a coffee machine and a toaster. But it did feature a couple of vending machines. One for drinks and the other for snacks. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Using Jenna’s five, I wondered if it was a coke she actually wanted. Seemed like everyone around here called soda ‘coke.’ Giving a mental shrug, I got what she asked for.

“Caroline tells me you quit the squad.”

She did? I was surprised. I thought Caroline and her mother rarely spoke. “Yeah.” I picked an apple juice for myself and turned after collecting it from the tray. “I’m just—not as interested in it anymore, I guess.”

Liz hmmed. “That’s to be expected. You start to grow up, things that were once so important seem almost silly in hindsight.”

“Yeah.” I set the coke on the table. “Do you mind if I sit in here for ten or twenty minutes?”

“Give your aunt and Maria time to talk?” Liz smiled. “Sure Elena.” She nodded out the door. “Just ask a deputy if you need anything. Or come find me. I’ll be in my office.”

“Alright. Thanks.” I wasn’t sure what Elena called Caroline’s mom, so I settled for a smile.

I sat sipping my juice, listening to Mystic Fall’s finest filing cases and typing up reports. I wondered how many of Liz’s deputies knew about vampires. All of them? Was it some secret they told you when they passed out the badges? ‘Welcome to the force, here’s your shield, your gun, and—oh yeah—vampires are occasionally a thing around here. So, y’know. Good luck with that!’

Once I’d drank half my juice, I got up and walked back through the main office and down the hall to the interrogation rooms. I found Jenna waiting alone by the bench. I held out her coke as I walked up and pretended not to notice her glistening eyes. “What she say?”

She sighed. “It’s not good.” She took the bottle out of my hand and frowned. “If it were just assault, because Tyler was as involved, they might have given him probation.” She blinked several times. “But since he picked up a broken bottle, that makes it aggravated assault. And Tyler was hurt.” Jenna shook her head. “It could be years, Elena.”

I picked at the label on my bottle, what juice I’d already drunk churning sourly in my stomach. “Could be?”

“She’s going use the fact Jeremy’s never even visited the principal’s office to try and get it down to a year. She thinks that with good behavior, Jeremy could be home in six months. That’s best case.”

Six months. Best case. I drew in a deep breath, but had no idea what to say, so I just nodded.

“On the positive side,” Jenna smiled, “there’s no bail for juveniles, so Jeremy could be home as soon as he gets his first hearing.” She frowned. “He’ll probably have to wear an ankle bracelet.”

“That’s good, though. Isn’t it?”

“Better than the alternative,” Jenna sighed again. “Come on. Let’s see him,” she said, standing.

The meeting room was pretty much that. A small space the size of a couple of closets plus a table. A narrow window no bigger than an old fashioned mail slot, complete with bars, was situated near the ceiling to let in light. Otherwise, a fan turned overhead.

Jeremy looked away as we walked in, his face fixed towards the window. Even from the side, with his low-hanging hair, I could see the swollen skin around his jaw, cheek, and eyes that was just starting to turn a jaundice yellow. Tyler must have gotten him more than a few times.

“Hi, Jer,” Jenna said, trying to sound happy.

Jeremy’s shoulders twitched. Finally glancing our way, he stared at us beneath overlong bangs. I smiled.

He sighed. “Hey.”

We sat down. The resulting silence let me hear every creak of the plastic chairs and the humming swish of the fan whirling overhead.

“Are you okay?” Jenna asked, sights glued on his face.

“Yeah.” Jeremy ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re—everything is okay? I mean, you have enough to eat?”

Jeremy snorted. “It’s jail food, Jenna.”

Jenna’s shoulders hunched. “Oh. Right.”

He grimaced, then winced. “Sorry. It’s—I mean, it’s not takeout. I’m eating.”

Jenna nodded. Another drawn out silence followed before she found something to say. “Did you like your lawyer?”

Jeremy shrugged. “Sure.” He fidgeted in his seat.

“She’s supposed to be really good.”

Jeremy nodded.

Jenna reached halfway across the table, looking as if she was going to try touching his arm, but let her hands fall onto the tabletop. “What happened?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve got to give me a little more than that, Jeremy.” A note of anger actually entered Jenna’s tone. The first I’d ever heard from her.

Jeremy reached up and poked at the larger bruise covering his jaw. “Tyler was being a dick. Guess I lost it.”

“Lost it?” Jenna repeated, slowly. “Why, Jer? You realize you could have killed him, right? You realize the kind of trouble you’re in?”

“I don’t know why!” He erupted, eyes shining. He blinked wildly, looking down at the hands in his lap. “He was on me, I was on my back. It was the weirdest feeling—like these nightmares I keep having. Of someone on top of me, killing me. I panicked. I thought I was going to die. I got the bottle and, I dunno,” Jeremy hunched forward. “I wasn’t thinking, okay? It was—it was instinct or something. I don’t know.”

It was as if someone had injected liquid nitrogen into my veins. I got so cold I had to wring my hands together. Had Damon’s attack somehow done something to Jeremy? Turned him violent?

But no, Jeremy would have reached for that bottle either way.

But what had happened… it was still clearly with him. Affecting him.

Jenna blew out a long breath and slumped back in her seat. “Did the lawyer explain everything to you?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy ran a hand over his hair, sweeping his bangs back. “She went over it.”

“Okay.” Jenna tapped the table. “Okay. And you know to call her if the police want to talk to you again, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t tell them anything, did you?”

“You think I’m stupid?” Jeremy shot back.

“I don’t know, Jer. Look where you’re sitting,” Jenna answered, just as short.

The fan whirled on overhead. I saw a bird fly by the window.

“I’m sorry,” Jenna said softly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. Pretty sure I deserve worse,” Jeremy replied bitterly.

“With any luck you’ll be home in a few days,” Jenna went on, ignoring what he’d said. “We’ll just—we’ll hope for the best. Okay? No sense worrying about a future we can’t see coming.”

“Hope for the best,” I murmured, “prepare for the worst.” It was another of my dad’s favorite sayings.

Another painful moment of silence followed.

“Did… did Vicki call?” Jeremy asked, breaking the stillness if not the tension.

I glanced over at him. He was looking at me. I shook my head. “Not that I know of.”

He seemed to wilt into his seat.

“She could’ve tried your cell,” I offered.

A dark look fell over his face. “Doubt it.” As swift as it came, it was replaced by utter dejection. “She’s probably with Tyler.”

“Let’s not even talk about Tyler Lockwood,” Jenna all but growled.

That got a flicker of a smile out of Jeremy. “No complaints here.”

“Is there anything you need?” I asked.

“Nothing I can have.” He rubbed his arm. “If I end up… transferred… maybe.”

“Money?” Jenna returned.

He shook his head. “No.” He slid further down the seat. “Not here.”

“Cigarettes?”

We both stared in shock, but Jenna cracked a little smile.

Jeremy snorted.

From there, we all sat in one of the most awkward silences of my life. It was clear no one had any idea what to say, but Jenna didn’t seem inclined to leave. Probably knowing where he’d end up if we did. I alternated between staring out the window and reading the label on my juice.

When Sheriff Forbes knocked on the door, told us that it was time to take Jeremy back, I hate to admit I was relieved. Not that I wanted Jeremy back in his cell, but I wasn’t family. Not really. And I didn’t know what to say to make the situation any better.

I both appreciated stepping into the morning sunshine and felt guilty about it at the same time.

Since it was Saturday, Jenna had to wait to make any calls. She did set up an appointment with the bank on Monday. She spent the rest of the morning making plans for pulling enough money together for the attorney’s fees. Which wouldn’t be cheap. It was obvious she didn’t want to dip into the funds set aside for Jeremy and Elena, but being a college student, Jenna didn’t have a lot of choice.

“Dammit, John,” she muttered, for the tenth time, when he failed to pick up his phone.

I hung around, not certain what I could do to help, but not feeling right about taking off to Elena’s room, either. It was my fault this had happened, after all. If Elena—the real Elena—had been there, Stefan would have been there, and—yeah.

So I sat at the table with Jenna, hoping Elena’s presence provided some kind of moral support. Dreading whatever was to come next.

Naturally, that’s when the doorbell sounded.

“I’ll get it,” I told Jenna, who nodded gratefully as I got up.

I pulled it open to find Damon on the other side. That didn’t surprise me either. Obviously, this universe hates me.

“We’re breaking up.” Damon announced as soon as he pulled his sunglasses off. “But I want you to know, it’s not me, it’s you.”

The amount of self-absorption on display was kind of awe inspiring, in a screwed-up way. Like coming across a bad car wreck or really messy roadkill. “I don’t have time for this.” I moved to shut the door.

Damon’s hand reached out and grabbed the edge, stopping it cold. “You don’t want to know why?”

“No.”

“Your fake brother’s little stunt has made you persona non grata to the Lockwoods. And I need in that Founder’s Ball.”

“Wow.” I glared. “I’m sorry Elena’s troubles have made life so inconvenient for you.”

He waved a hand, magnanimously. Like a king absolving his subject. The dick. He then doubled down with, “Who do you think I should ask? Caroline or Bonnie?”

The idea horrified me. “Neither.”

“Oh, c’mon Not-Elena. Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” I assured him.

“I promised not to hurt your friends, didn’t I?” He leaned his shoulder against the door frame. “I just need a date to get into the Ball. If it makes you feel better, I’m breaking it off right after.”

“It doesn’t. Because if they agree then they, for some reason, actually like you.” Damon arched a brow. I frowned up at him. “And tossing them aside like that would be a dick move.”

“I am a dick.”

“I know.” I glared into those arctic eyes, clear and steady as they were, and refused to blink.

He huffed and shifted his hands into his jacket’s pockets. “Fine. I’ll compel another date.”

“You could try asking,” I pointed out. “Unless compulsion is the only way you can get a woman to agree to go out with you.”

His side-eye warned me to watch it.

I folded my arms, chin tilting up.

“I’m good,” he said, so humbly, “but no one’s good enough to convince a woman she’s not being used when the opener is, ‘Hey! Take me to this exclusive party!’”

“I’m surprised you care if your date knows she’s being used.”

He shrugged. “I don’t. But some women take exception.”

“Imagine that,” I drawled.

“Right?”

I scowled. “You are a despicable person.” I moved to shut the door, hoping he’d take the hint.

His foot slid forward, stopping the door again. Disgusted, I dropped my hand so fast it slapped against my thigh. “What now, Damon?”

His eyes narrowed in another warning before slipping back into his usual devil-may-care attitude. “Bree’s on her way up. By the time I have the crystal, we’ll be ready to do the ceremony.” His eyes widened meaningfully. “Tonight.”

This was… so early. It gave me a headache wondering about all the changes. But maybe that was for the best.

Or it was another huge disaster waiting to happen.

“Jenna’s convinced she’s been screwing up because of Jeremy. I’m doubt she’ll be fine with me taking off in the middle of the night.”

“I can compel her—”

“No, Damon.” I rubbed a hand over my forehead. Was compulsion his answer to every problem? “I’ll figure something out.”

“You don’t have to be there.”

But with everything gone so wrong— “There’ll be major magical power being channeled. Seems like something Esther might want in on.” I held up the bracelet. “This, at least, makes me useful for something.”

“Our little ghost repellant,” he drawled. “Alright. Stefan or I’ll call you when we have the crystal.”

“Fine,” I sighed.

Damon slipped his sunglasses back on. “See you tonight, Fake-lena.”

If not for Jenna, I would have slammed the door in his face.

I spent the rest of the day alternating between sitting with a depressed Jenna and trying to nap in Elena’s room.

“At least we have an excuse to skip the Founder’s Ball,” Jenna murmured at one point as we channel surfed.

“Not just this party. All the Lockwood events,” I reminded her.

She clicked through the next few channels. “Hallelujah.”

The next few hours passed under a cloud of melancholy. Every so often Jenna would say, “I just don’t get it. He’s always been such a sweet kid.”

To which I’d say some variation of, “He’s going through a rough patch.”

“I can’t believe he’ll have to spend time in Juvenile Detention.”

I tried to be positive. “At least he’s under eighteen. It’ll all be expunged.”

Jenna frowned. “Except everyone in town will know.” Her eyes were troubled. “Who’s going to want to hire him, Elena? And his grades are slipping. Who knows if he’ll manage college? Or even want to go.” She drew a deep breath and blew it back out. “I screwed up.”

“This isn’t your fault,” I said for the hundredth time.

Jenna’s tight-lipped frown told me she didn’t believe me this time, either.

We were well into our fourth round of this same conversation when the phone rang.

Jenna answered, but after a few seconds said, “It’s for you,” and held out the phone to me.

I took the cordless. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Stefan greeted.

“Hi.” I covered the lower half and mouthed Stefan to Jenna, who nodded, and got up to go to Elena’s room. “I thought you’d be at the party by now.”

“The Founder’s Ball?” he questioned.

“Yeah.”

“Can’t say it holds any interest for me,” he said. “I’ll let Damon get his magical crystal.”

“But the Founders Council are striking people off the list of possible suspects based on who shows up during the day.”

“I think attending high school will be enough to strike my name from their list,” he pointed out reasonably. “More importantly, how’s Jeremy?”

“He’s got bruises and some swelling from the fight, but otherwise he’s okay. Physically.”

“Yeah.” Stefan paused. “Any idea what’s going to happen to him?”

“Jeremy attacked Tyler with a deadly weapon, so—the lawyer’s not too hopeful the judge will go for probation.” I took a breath. “She thinks he’ll get a year or two in Juvenile Detention. But he can shave off a few months with good behavior. Six months, best case.”

“I’m sorry, Elena.” And he sounded it.

“I screwed up,” I admitted. “I forgot all about the fight and the fact Jeremy went for a that damn bottle.”

“That was his choice, not yours.” Stefan replied. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for the things other people do, even if you know they’re going to do them.”

“I could have stopped it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You’re doing what you can, Elena. But you can’t be expected to remember every detail.”

I blew out a breath. “I still feel like I’ve failed him. Twice now.”

“Maybe this will be good for him,” Stefan reasoned. “An opportunity to turn his life back around. Get off drugs.”

“Or he’ll get worse being around other delinquents,” I said, frowning.

“He’s a good kid. He’ll figure it out.” Stefan assured me.

“I hope you’re right, Stefan.”

The ‘me too,’ went unspoken. “Damon said you’ll be there later tonight.” He didn’t sound pleased about it.

“I’m worried Esther might be drawn to all that power. Who knows what she’d do. And Elena was there in the show. I’m nervous enough missing out on the party. I don’t want to risk anything going wrong at the tomb.”

“It’ll be dangerous.”

“I know.” Dozens of desiccated vampires desperate for blood? Dangerous was probably an understatement. “But Anna shouldn’t know we’re ready. If there’s any good to come out of this mess with Jeremy, it’s that Anna won’t be able to use him.” I let out a breath. “As long as I avoid tripping and falling wrist-first into any vampire mouths, I should be fine.”

“I’ll be going in too.”

“But what if something goes wrong with the spell?”

“Then I’ll be stuck,” Stefan replied matter-of-factly. “I know the risks, Elena. I won’t let you go in alone.”

“Damon will be there.” But from the tepid assurance, and Stefan’s poignant silence, I think we were both on the same page as to how much Damon could be counted on.

“If you’re going, I’m going. That’s my choice.” Resolve firmed his declaration.

I looked down. If this was like the show, he should be in there, anyway.

Hopefully any differences, like the barrier coming down, would work in our favor for once.

“Okay. Then all three of us are going inside.” I blew out a breath. “Hopefully all three of us come back out.”

Stefan hummed an agreement.

When we were done talking, I felt a bit better as I hung up. I was still felt responsible for Jeremy’s situation, and nervous about entering the tomb, but at least I had someone in this screwed up world I could count on.

Damon called a few minutes after sunset. “I’ve got the crystal. My witch will be here in an hour.”

“I’ll meet you at the tomb then.”

“And we’ll see how right you are about the future, Fake-lena,” Damon replied with a light-heartedness that chilled my blood before hanging up.

I found Jenna in front of the television, staring but not really watching. “Hey, Jenna?”

“Hmm?”

“Caroline, Bonnie, Stefan, and Matt are heading to the Grill after the party. Is it okay if I meet up with them?”

Jenna turned around. “Alright. But be home by ten.”

I had no idea if we’d be done by then. “It might run a little later. And it’s a weekend.”

Jenna frowned. “Ten, Elena. Please don’t make me say no.”

“Alright. Ten.” I summoned a smile. “Thanks, Jenna.”

“It’ll be good for you to get out. Just—don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

Like traipse through a magical tomb filled with monsters thirsting for my blood? Surely not.

I smiled and nodded, which seemed to appease her. I rushed through the house, snagging my purse and jacket. I made sure my anti-spirit charm was on, despite never taking it off. With a final shouted good-bye to Jenna, I grabbed the keys and loaded into the SUV.

It wasn’t until I was out of the driveway and down the street that I realized I had no idea where the ruins of the old Fell church were. “Shit.”

I pulled up to the boarding house hoping Stefan was still inside.

It was Zach who answered the door. “Elena,” he said, brows arching in surprise.

I couldn’t help but glance down at his hand. It was hidden in his pocket. Realizing how rude that probably was, I hurried to look back up. “Zach. Hey.” I forced a smile. “I was wondering if Stefan was around.”

Zach frowned but shook his head. “No. He left a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Damn. Considering vampire speed, he was probably halfway to—wherever. “I don’t suppose you could help me.”

Surprise flashed across his face again. “I can try. What’s the problem?”

“The old Fell church? The one that they burned down—”

“I know the story,” Zach said.

“Oh, well. I was hoping you’d know where it was.”

His brows knit together. “You’re going to the tomb tonight, too?”

“You know about that?”

“Not much I don’t hear about,” Zach said after a moment. “They don’t really give a lot of thought to their human servants. Probably because they can always compel us to forget.”

Apparently, neither Stefan nor Damon knew about his vervain. I wondered what he’d done to keep it hidden from them, since John was downstairs. “Right.”

“Take Grove back to Washington. Follow that ten minutes or so past the town center. Keep an eye out about a mile past Churchwood Way. There’s a narrow lane up to an old graveyard nearby. Kind of a local party spot nowadays. There’s a path near the old Fell crypt. Follow it till you come to the ruins.”

“Okay. Thanks, Zach.” I tugged my jacket around me tighter. “I hope you feel better, by the way.”

He startled. “I—yes. I do. Thank you.” His hand stayed in his pocket. It might make me a coward, or a bad person for thinking so, but I was glad.

I flashed another smile and turned.

“He’s going to be disappointed that you didn’t stop by to see him,” Zach said before I got more than a few steps.

I whirled back around. “Damon’ll get over it.”

“Not Damon. John.”

The hairs on the backs of my arms and neck stood on end. “You’re not still talking to him, are you, Zach?”

Zach shook his head. “No.”

“Good.” I couldn’t help but glance towards his pocket. “What really happened? With your hand?”

He frowned. “I told you. I wanted to see if it hurt.”

Well, it sounded as insane the second time I’d heard it as the first. I couldn’t help but say, “Of course it would.”

“I got—mixed up.” He gave a sheepish a smile. “Stress does weird things, I guess.”

No kidding. But even stress didn’t seem like a plausible enough answer. Maybe he really had been compelled. Except Zach had to be ingesting vervain on the regular. How could he have been compelled?

I bit my lip for a moment and summoned a weak smile. “Well, thanks for the directions, Zach.”

He nodded. “Of course. Anything for you, Elena.”

O-kay. That was weird. A bit creeped out, I hurried back to the SUV.

The turnoff to the old cemetery was right where Zach said it would be. I was able to take the SUV up the dirt road all the way to the graveyard. There was a flashlight in the SUV that helped me pick my way past the tombstones and the beer bottles to the path that Zach said would lead to the old church. It wasn’t a properly maintained path. Not like the way to the Falls’ picnic site, so while it was visible thanks to the well-trampled ground, branches grew over it, grass grew in clumps here and there, and exposed roots stuck out of the ground. I had to pick my way carefully around.

I figured I had to be close to the old church. I slowed as I went further along, flashlight sweeping through the woods.

Despite my caution, the light falling upon a pale face floating between a cluster of trees still startled a jump out of me.

Damon squinted against the beam. “About time.” He stepped over, taking my arm and pulling me alongside him. “C’mon. It’s this way.” A little louder he said, “I’ve got her.”

I kept careful watch on the ground as he pulled me through the forest. “Why’d they build a church in the middle of the woods?”

“This was Fell land, once. Thomas Fell donated the acres, and the god-fearing folk of Mystic Falls volunteered to help build it. Was a big community project,” Damon explained. “Way most of the town was built back in the early days.”

“But it’s a ways off from the town center, isn’t it?”

“Not so far.” He guided me around a fallen log. “And the path was better maintained. You could drive a carriage all the way from the church to the cemetary.” He scowled. “It only went to the dogs after they burned the church to the ground.” We stepped round another group of trees and Damon said, “Ta da.”

However large and beautiful the old church must have once been, now it was a few waist-high walls of stone blocks. The woods were creeping up on it, a few trees growing right next to the walls themselves. The handle of a shovel flashed under the beam of my flashlight, along with an impressive mound of freshly dug earth.

“Mind the foundation. Or what’s left of it,” Damon said, guiding me through the small maze of crumbled stone and stray blocks littering the ground.

“Why’d they chose a church to burn down?” I wondered. “Instead of a barn or something?”

“Barns are useful.” Damon shrugged. “Maybe they hoped god would sort ‘em out. Who knows how the mind of an angry mob works.” He led me towards the mound of earth, which without a small wall in the way, I saw sat next to a set of circular stairs. The stairs led down into a soft golden light. “Ladies first.”

Despite his words, Damon took my hand and kept hold of it as I took my first tentative step. Dirt ground under my sneaker, the step itself feeling decidedly uneven. After teetering a bit, I tightened my hold on Damon’s hand before moving to the next. By the time I was knee-high with the tomb’s entrance, I bent slightly far enough to see into the small round chamber.

And a certain curly haired witch waiting between a set of four torches.

Her brows lifted the further down the steps I came, though whether from willingly being part of this madness or the fact Damon kept hold of my hand, I couldn’t say. “There you are,” Bree said, an annoyed cast to her face. “Left me alone long enough.”

“Sorry,” Damon replied, guiding me past the last step. “Had to make sure our ghost repellent wasn’t wandering the woods like a lost little lamb.”

Bree snorted. “Damon, she’d be safer coming across a whole pack of wolves than you.”

He tsked, placing his newly freed hand over his heart. “Ow.”

“Truth hurts,” she said, dismissively. Her eyes roamed over me. “So you’re his latest diversion?”

I frowned. “We’re not together.”

“We just broke up this morning,” Damon explained. “She’s heartbroken.”

“Yeah,” I answered flatly, choosing to examine the large stone carved into the shape of a door, pentagram chiseled into its center, dominating the room. “I’ve been listening to country music all day to cope.”

“Mmkay,” Bree hummed, brows once again held high.

“I thought you liked country.”

Stefan’s appearance coincided with a sighed, “Thank god,” on my part. Damon’s brows furrowed as he frowned while Stefan gave a little smile.

“Some. I’m particular.”

Stefan had a bag in hand that he passed to Bree. “Good to know.”

“Yes, yes. Fascinating as this little discussion on musical tastes is, can we get to the main event?”

“Never used to be this impatient,” Bree stated with a curl to her lips that had me grinning.

Damon shrugged as he pulled a bag of blood out from his jacket. “I’ve been patient for a hundred and forty odd years. I’m over it.” He frowned. “I hope you have everything you need.”

“You’re the one I’ve been waiting on.” Bree opened the bag and pulled out the grimoire. She placed it on the ground and, with a hand hovering over the book, spread her fingers.

The book leapt open and fluttered through dozens of pages, settling on one almost halfway through.

“Wow.” I’d seen Sheila and Esther with the candles, but that bit of Harry Potter spell work had me genuinely awed.

“Parlor tricks,” Bree replied. She held out a hand to Damon. “If you got that necklace, I’ll show your ex the good stuff.”

Damon reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a chain which, at its end, hung a certain yellow crystal. It spun to and fro, glinting in the torchlight as he held it out to Bree. “One comet-charged crystal.”

Bree inhaled as she closed her hand around it, eyes closing as she smiled. “Charged full, alright.” Her eyes popped back open.

“You can do it?” Damon asked, for the first time looking hopeful.

“Yeah, baby. I can do it.”

Stefan frowned. “Can you close it?”

Bree looked over. “Sure can. Won’t be as tight a seal, but it’ll hold well enough.”

“What do you mean, won’t be as tight?” Stefan asked, brows swooping downward.

Before Bree could answer, Damon interjected, “Who cares? Kill the rest if you’re so worried about it.”

Stefan’s brows flattened. “I intend to.”

“Then let’s get going,” Damon said to Bree.

She gave a nod and took a deep breath, holding up the necklace. A bright light emanated from inside it, like a star had been caught in amber. The crystal floated upwards, gradually lighting the entire chamber. Yellow triangles of light cast from the crystal’s cut floated across the stone walls.

In the middle, Bree knelt in front of the Grimoire and began to chant. The words were in no language I recognized, not that I’d recognize many. But she spoke them confidently and clearly, and each one seemed to ring out in the chamber.

After a while, the crystal’s glow became more intense. So much so that I had to squint, and eventually cover my eyes with a hand, as a light that could rival the sun radiated from the center. Eyes shuttered, I heard a loud scraping of stone grinding against stone, Bree’s voice becoming more intense, and the light in my hand turning the darkness behind my eyelids bright orange.

Just when I wondered if the light was going to set us all on fire or something, it began to fade and eventually die as Bree’s voice gentled and slowed.

When it was safe enough to open my eyes again, I looked to the tomb’s door. It was cracked open.

Bree took a deep breath and said two words. “It’s down.”

Damon disappeared.

I was about to follow when Stefan laid a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you should stay out here.”

“I told you, Stefan. Elena went in. Maybe it’s not necessary, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.” I put my hand over his. “Anna isn’t here. It’ll be fine.” I hoped.

Stefan’s stare searched my eyes. He must have found my resolve because he said, “Alright.” He turned and leaned towards one of the torches, picking it up. “But I’m going in with you.”

Bree crossed her arms. “Guess I’ll wait by myself. Near a graveyard. Outside a tomb filled with vampires.”

I grimaced. “Sorry.”

She huffed a laugh. “I’m a witch.” A brow arched. “I can take care of myself.”

I hoped she did better here than on the show. Still, I gave her a nod. “Okay.” I lifted the flashlight. “We let him see she’s not there. Then we leave and seal them back in.”

“I’ll do one better,” Stefan replied, picking up a shovel. He handed me the torch. Holding it in my free hand, I watched as he snapped the end of the shovel off. He met my eyes. “We make sure they never walk out.”

Staking them while they were helpless? My stomach twisted. I had to remind myself what they’d do to the town if they were allowed out. And who knew what might happen next. “I guess it’ll put an end to their suffering.”

Stefan’s brow raised. “That’s your concern?”

I bit my lip. “I know. I’m weird.”

His eyes gentled slightly as he gazed at me. I thought he was about to say something, but he took the torch back instead. “C’mon.” He turned to the side and slipped between the door and the wall. “Stay close.”

I slid in behind him.

The first thing that hit was the darkness. Then came the smell. The air was stale, of course, I’d expected that. But there was something more to it. A moldy scent that lingered on the back of the tongue like a bad taste. I had to fight against a constant urge to spit.

The light from my flashlight trembled despite my attempts to keep it steady. I shined it up ahead, since the torch gave more than enough for us to see our feet and our immediate surroundings. It was all stone here. Stacked on each other like bricks, but no mortar. None that I could see. Just the weight of each one holding back the earth. Standing next to the wall was like opening the fridge door and feeling the cold waft out.

The floor was dirt and scratched under our shoes. The sound followed us inside. When we reached a corner, we took it slow. I swept the flashlight across the space beyond, but it was an empty room.

We’d taken less than two steps across it when the whispering started.

I jolted into Stefan’s back. He paused to look over his shoulder, meeting my eyes. “It’s alright. They can’t move, so they’re trying to lure you.”

“How the hell will creepy whispers lure anyone in?” I wondered.

Stefan gave a little grin, but it fell a moment later. “They’re desperate.”

We walked further into the tomb. Rounding another corner, my flashlight scanned the floor and then—

“Oh,” I breathed.

The vampire looked dead. Her skin was grey, paper-thin and so wrinkled it looked more like a shirt that had dried wadded up than flesh. The tendons, bones, and muscles were so prominent, it was almost as if there wasn’t anything covering them at all. A body with all the liquid sucked out of it till it was as dry as jerky. Her clothes were something straight out of a period piece. One of those dresses with huge, bell shaped skirts that had to have a cage underneath to give it it’s shape. The bodice’s neckline was so wide, it was nearly off the shoulder. The fabric looked like silk. It must have been a very richly colored blue once but was now covered in a thick layer of dust.

I was examining the ringlets in her blonde hair when her eyes popped open.

“Holy shit,” I gasped, grabbing Stefan as if this were a jaunt through a haunted house.

“Stay right here,” he said, squeezing my hand gently before unpeeling my fingers. He handed me the torch and hefted the broken handle of the shovel. Straightening his shoulders, he stepped forward.

Red eyes rolled up to follow him. There didn’t look to be anything behind them. Not fear, or anger, or gratitude. Just glazed red irises tracking the thing that moved, more reflex than thought.

Stefan wrapped his hands over the handle and said, “Look away.”

At first, I thought he was talking to her. But no. He was talking to me.

Swallowing, I averted my eyes to the opposite wall. “There’s another,” I whispered.

“I know.”

Killing a desiccated vampire sounded like poking a hollow, burnt turkey, followed by the rasp of wood sliding free.

Stefan crossed in front of the flashlight’s beam to the next vampire, lifted the handle, glanced my way. Soon as my eyes were diverted, the same sounds whispered from that corner. I chewed my inner cheek. They’d kill people in the town, I reminded myself. We were making sure that wouldn’t happen.

I didn’t feel like I was helping to save anyone, though.

We worked our way in further. As Stefan stabbed another chamber full of vampires, I wondered where Damon was. He had to be near the back by this point. I went a little further ahead, marking where the next vampires were and kept clear. Some of their eyes would pop open, gleaming a deep ruby red in the beam of the light, each set following me as I crossed the floor. But seeing how…stationary… they were eased a lot of the fear. I mean, my heart was still pumping fast enough to make me slightly lightheaded, but I wasn’t so scared that I couldn’t gain some distance from Stefan. So long as I was in eyesight.

I peered around the corner and saw flickering golden light from a chamber at the end. Damon.

Turning back around, I hurried to Stefan, who was about to make his way to the next vampire. “It’s Damon. Stefan, I think he’s in the last chamber.”

Stefan paused, meeting my eyes. After a moment, he nodded.

Handing over the torch, we left the rest of the vampires where they laid and carefully crossed the narrow hall. There were a few other vampires reclining against the stonework here, and they’d be as happy to take a bite out of Stefan as me. Blood was blood, after all.

Reaching the final room, I tried to prepare myself for the inevitable burst of fury the moment Damon realized she wasn’t—

“Katherine!”

Stepping past the opening, I saw Damon at the back of the room. He leaned over a woman in the same dated clothing as everyone else. This time a bright lavender dress that draped immaculately across the floor. He had her cradled against his chest, holding her head up. I could see waves of brunette curls spilling over his arm. As we moved in closer, I saw a face whose reflection I’d been viewing in the mirror lately.

No.

No, it wasn’t possible.

“Katherine,” Damon breathed, hand caressing a soft, round cheek.

I took a step back, bumping into Stefan. Stefan’s eyes snapped to mine, wide and questioning. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. There was nothing I could think to say. No explanation I could give.

Damon put the blood bag between his teeth, tearing through the plastic to rip it open.

And Katherine Pierce opened her eyes.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 5: So Big, So Small

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Y/N says the truth and Harry cannot.

Word count: 6.6k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (with original character: Thea as Y/N)

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“Blake, hi, what are you doing here?”

“Hey, I wanted to see you to--” Blake trailed off as soon as he saw Harry on Y/N’s couch. He gave a courteous smile which Harry returned, but if Y/N had paid attention, she would have noticed the passive hostility between them.

Harry trusted Y/N as much as she trusted him, but he didn’t trust Blake. He assumed Blake had been doing all those nice things for her because he wanted to slip back into her life as if all those years he’d been away had meant nothing. And of course, Harry couldn’t stop him from wanting to get her back, but Blake would be an idiot to think he had a chance.

“You were saying?” Y/N asked her ex-boyfriend, who immediately plastered a smile on his face.

“I’ve got some good news for you,” he said. “So I was helping my boss with this new case and guess who the client was? Wait for it...Laura Hilfgard!”

“The author?!”

“Yes!”

Seeing Y/N’s face lit up with joy, Harry couldn’t stay out of it anymore. He got up and walked up to them. Blake pressed his lips into a small smile when Harry put an arm around Y/N’s shoulders and gave her a chaste kiss.

“Blake met Laura Hilfgard, babe! She was his client.”

Her excitement brought a grin to Harry’s face. “That’s the author you like, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t think you’d know her, Harry.”

“Of course I know her.” Harry faked a smile at Blake. “I’ve read all the books beside Y/N’s bed, so I know every author she likes and dislikes.”

“That’s...very impressive.”

“Thank you.”

The sarcastic tone the men had exchanged went right over Y/N’s head as she turned back to Blake. “But what happened? Was she in trouble?”

“No, it’s actually the opposite.” Blake laughed. “She’s getting a divorce. She’s pretty happy about it.”

“Oh, good for her!” Y/N exclaimed, hugging Harry’s arm. “So, what was she like as a real person? I suppose she was just as sweet as I imagined.”

Blake nodded. “She was very sweet. She’s also a literary agent, did you know that?”

“Yes! I actually sent her my manuscript a long time ago but she hadn’t replied. It’s probably got lost in the spam.”

“Well, would you like me to give it to her in person?”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. She snapped her head to look at Harry, whose brows drew together as he tried to figure out what Blake was up to. But the guy didn’t even spare him a glance. He was only beaming at Y/N.

“I think Ms Hilfgard liked me,” Blake said. “I’ll ask her to read the story and give you some feedback. I mean, if that’s fine with you.”

“That’s better than fine! Thank you! Thank you!”

Y/N then told Blake to wait as she ran to the desk by the window and took out a yellow folder from the top drawer. Harry was still gawking at her when she hurried back to the door.

“You finished the story already?” he asked, forehead puckered up as she told him, “no, this is the old version.”

“Why don’t you wait until you’ve finished, love?”

“It’d take forever. Laura might not accept submissions anymore,” she said eagerly. “You said the old version was good, right?”

“Right,” the men answered at the same time and exchanged weird looks with each other, but Y/N couldn’t care less.

“Then it’s worth the risk,” she said with confidence, taking a deep breath. When she was sure they had nothing else to say, she kissed the folder for good luck and gave it to Blake. “If this works out, I owe you big time.”

“I’ll give it to her tomorrow.” He smiled. “I have a feeling that she’ll love it as much as I do.”

Y/N was over the moon, her eyes twinkled as she kept thanking Blake until he was gone, but seeing the look on Harry’s face pulled her back down to Earth.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said as she shut the door.

“You’re not happy for me?”

“I am. You know I am.” Harry scratched the back of his head. “It’s just...you were mad at me for giving your manuscript to John Conall, but now you’re so excited and--”

“It’s not the same though! I was mad at you because I thought you asked Conall to sign me. That guy didn’t even bother to read my story, and you kind of bribed him by agreeing to attend his daughter’s birthday.”

“And how are you so sure Blake doesn’t personally know Laura Hilfgard?”

“Because...it’s...Blake.” Y/N gave a shrug, her face scrunched up as if she couldn’t figure out a proper explanation. “Babe, this is not personal. I just want someone to like my writing because they like my writing, and not because I’m -- because I’m your girl.”

Harry sucked in a breath. He took a step forward, wrapping his arms around her waist as she put her hands on his shoulders.

“You might be my girl, but you’ve always been a great writer,” he said. “And if people like your writing, they like your writing. It’s not because of me.”

“We don’t know that.” She shook her head, her eyes narrowed. “People are always gonna be biased when it comes to who knows who. You work in a similar industry, you know what it’s like.”

“I suppose.” Harry gave a nod and kissed her lips. “I’m sorry. Let’s not fight, okay?”

“We’re not fighting. We’re just...debating.”

“And you win.”

As he put his mouth on her neck, she tossed her head back, laughing and pushing him away. “I don’t want to win. I just want us to understand each other.”

“Do you think we understand each other now?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” she mumbled, making him smile again.

Y/N held Harry’s cheeks and traced a thumb down the bridge of his nose. The creases between his brows disappeared as he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

“Are you okay?” she quietly asked. “You seem so worried. And I know it’s not only because Blake showed up.”

Harry released a slight laugh as he took another deep breath. “Gemma texted me. She wanted to know how it went.”

“Oh, no. What did you say to her?”

“I haven’t replied,” he admitted. “And I--I don’t think I’m going to.”

“Harry!”

“No, listen.” He grasped her elbows as she pulled away. “I need to get to know Winton so I could prove to Gemma that he’s really changed.”

Y/N took in a sharp breath and cocked her head in disbelief. “You want to get to know Winton now?”

“I already told you--”

“I thought you were just gonna forgive him and let him go. If you want my opinion, then I don’t think it’s a good idea to take him back into your life, let alone get to know him!”

“I have to.”

“No, you want to!” Harry froze at the emphasised word. She held his face, stepping closer. “Baby, I had wasted so many years hating my dad and blaming him for everything that went wrong….I thought I was torturing him, but I was also torturing me. So I understand, and I’m happy you chose to forgive Winton. But...I just--I just want you to be careful before taking him back into your life. I love you so much and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Harry lowered his head. As he said nothing at all, Y/N had to ask, “promise me you’ll be careful?”

He ground his jaw before meeting her lips, nodding slowly. “Yes, I promise.”

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“Bitch, look at me while I’m telling you a story!”

“Just a second!” Y/N tossed the second pile of clothes onto the bed and adjusted the laptop screen so her best friends on the video chat could get a better view. “Sorry, I’m having a fashion crisis right now.”

“Sounds serious,” Amala said, giggling at how Y/N was running around her room in an oversized tee and no pants.

“Are you going to another event with Harry?” Celine shook her fists enthusiastically. “I need to know the theme to help you decide if you should be a lowkey whore or go all out.”

“Cece!” Y/N cackled, her mouth fell open. “I’m not gonna be a whore. I’m having dinner with Harry’s dad and his half-sister tomorrow night!”

“Oh, shit,” Celine mumbled while Amala was in hysterics. “Then extra lowkey whore. Because you’re gonna fuck him after dinner anyway, right?”

“I hate that you know me,” Y/N said and all three of them dissolved into laughter.

“But wait,” Amala arched an eyebrow, “I thought Harry hated his dad and half-sister?”

“So did I, but he’s happy so I support him.” Y/N threw herself on the bed and lay on her stomach. “I’m still gonna make sure he’ll be careful with those two, just in case they’re not who they say they are.”

“Good.” Celine exhaled while exchanging looks with her wife. “Well, we also think you should be careful.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what we’re talking about.” Celine scoffed.

“Blake. Roman.”

“Why did you say his name like he’s Voldemort?” Y/N guffawed at Amala’s serious expression and ran her hand over her face, pushing her hair back. “I literally had to tell Harry that he was worrying for no good reasons, and now you--”

“He had a good reason,” Celine argued.

“And we’re with him on this one!” Amala added.

Y/N opened her mouth again but Celine didn’t even let her start. “Look, baby, the poor man is doing everything to get you back. He makes you dinner, checks on you whenever he gets a chance, and keeps asking to use your shower. I think he comes over even more often than Harry!”

“He’s just lonely, that’s all. He doesn’t know anyone else in London,” Y/N said as she sat up, rubbing her hands on her thighs. “Besides, you know I’m one hundred percent committed to Harry. I would never do anything to hurt him or our relationship. And I don’t even love Blake like that anymore.”

“I know, my love.” Celine sighed as she rested her head on Amala’s shoulder. “But Blake and Harry might not. Men are so stupid, you have to be straightforward.”

“Blake doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Amala’s question left Y/N tongue-tied. She blew out her cheeks, subconsciously picking at her nails as her eyes bored into the screen.

A knock on the door made her jolt right up.

“Y/N! Are you home?”

“Shit, it’s Blake.”

“Told ya.” Celine raised an eyebrow as she pursed her lips. “We should hang up now. Call us later?”

“Wait, don’t you wanna meet him? He asked about you guys.”

“He was never really our friend,” Amala said. “He was always too cool for us, and he hung out with us because of you.”

Y/N nibbled on her lip as Celine went on, “just don’t give him hope. You have to draw the line before he gets too close.”

Before Y/N could say another word, her two friends had ended the chat.

“Gimme a second!” she shouted to Blake and quickly put on her pyjamas pants so she could answer the door.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” Blake said as soon as she appeared, but she shushed him before he continued.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine.” She shook her head, her face brightened. “Did Laura respond?”

“Not yet.”

“Oh…” Her smile fell instantly. She had been waiting for good news for nearly a week and she had been so confident. So what if she was wrong?

“Laura is not in London at the moment,” Blake said when he saw her frown. “I gave your manuscript to her assistant and I’m sure it’ll get to her when she gets back.”

“Okay, thank you so much.” She nodded, smiling back at him. “So what do you need?”

“Um...this might sound annoying but...my shower broke again. Could I please use yours?”

“It broke again?” Y/N let out a harsh breath as she remembered what Celine and Amala had told her earlier. “Do you--do you mind if I come see it?”

Blake was taken aback by the response, but he didn’t question it as he invited her into his flat. It was neat and clean, the opposite of his childhood bedroom in Holmes Chapel. Such details reminded her that he was a different and grown man now, even though it hadn’t felt that way since he came back.

She followed him to the bathroom and he stayed at the door while she stepped into the shower. She turned the shower on and off a few times and not a single drop came out of it.

“Told ya.” Blake smiled when she turned around, her cheeks were so red she could feel them heating up.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, the way his eyes were fixed on her made her heart feel jumpy. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Tell me.”

Y/N took a little time to think, but Blake wasn’t patient enough to wait.

“Look, I totally understand if you want to say no. I’ll just wait until tomorrow and--”

“No, it’s not like that,” she cut him off, finally looking up and meeting his eyes. “I was just...talking to Cece--”

“Oh, Cece’s over there?” His face lit up, but she shook her head, smiling.

“I was video-chatting with her and Amala. They’re married now.”

“Yeah, I heard.” He rubbed his jaw. “I wasn’t invited but no hard feelings.”

Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes. “Anyway, you know how I tell the girls everything, right?”

“And they think I still have feelings for you?” Blake asked, his expression remained unchanged. He didn’t even give her a chance to answer before asking another question, “does Harry think so too? That would explain why he doesn’t like me.”

At this point, Y/N had no choice but to be honest.

“He could be dramatic sometimes,” she said, “but...he’s a very loving man. He cares about me and I really love him.”

“I’m sure you do.” Blake’s mouth twitched as he hung his head. “Look...When I first moved here, I was very lonely. It was so nice to find someone to talk to, and not just anyone, you. We basically grew up together, Y/N. You felt like home to me, and...and I couldn’t help but care about you, but only as a friend.”

“Yeah, that--that was what I told them.” She sighed.

“I don’t need them to get it, as long as you do.” He let out a laugh, lifting his shoulder in a half-shrug. “But I’ll take it down a notch from now on. I know how you feel when people care about you too much.”

“No, it’s fine, really. Harry always cares about me too much and I’m starting to enjoy the attention.”

Y/N didn’t expect a reply, but it came as a shock to her that Blake would give a mirthless laugh. “What’s so funny?”

Blake chewed the inside of his cheek as if thinking if he should tell her, and eventually, he decided that he should. “You’ve been on your own so often lately, I feel like your boyfriend has other priorities.”

Y/N put her hands on her hips as she scoffed, her mouth opened wide.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Y/N. I’m just telling you the way I see it.”

“Well, the way you see it, is wrong. You don’t even know him.”

“You don’t have to defend him. I know he’s an actor and he has a different life--”

“I don’t have to defend him because I know him. You don’t!” She stabbed a finger at his chest before crossing her arms. “And I’m actually gonna move in with him so I don’t care what you have to say.”

Y/N did not believe she’d said it out loud. She was just as shocked as Blake and both of them froze for a second, just staring at each other with their mouths agape.

“When are you moving in with him?” Blake spoke first, he sounded rather frantic though he tried not to be.

“I-I’m not sure yet,” Y/N uttered. “He asked me a while ago but I haven’t answered.”

Blake jammed his hands in his pockets, his eyes shifted to the floor. “Well then--when are you gonna tell him?”

Y/N wanted to answer that question but she didn’t know how. She leaned back against the glass wall of the shower, biting a nail and pondering for a minute. She was surprised Blake was patient enough to wait for her.

“I’m gonna tell him the next time I see him.”

Blake wasn’t happy with that answer, but Y/N was too busy worrying about something more important to give him her attention. The sound of water leaking from the showerhead brought her back to reality.

“Your shower’s working again,” was all she said before rushing out of the room.

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“Harry! Harry! Wanna read my new story?”

“Not now, Bambi! I’m busy!”

Nine-year-old Y/N stopped at the entrance of the treehouse as she found her older friend sprawling on the dusty wooden floor with paper, markers and paste. He didn’t stop to look at her, so she sat down beside him, crossing her legs and holding her pink notebook to her chest.

“Wow, is this for an art project?”

“No, it’s for Gemma,” Harry replied as he lifted the paper to show her what he’d been working on. It was an awful portrait of his older sister. She had red eyes, two devil horns on top of her head, and was spitting out fire. The word ‘PRANKED’ was written in capital letters right in the middle of the drawing.

“That’s so mean.” Y/N cringed, but Harry seemed rather satisfied with her reaction.

“Her new boyfriend is a jerk. He treats me like sh--I mean, he treats me terribly when she’s not around, but she always believes him and not me.”

Y/N took some time to think before she spoke, “it seems to me that Gemma is blinded by love. But why do you blame her for what her boyfriend did?”

Harry stopped colouring for a second. Y/N believed he was trying to think of an answer, and when he realised he didn’t have one, he said, “either you’re on my side or stay out of this.”

“Of course I’m on your side. Always.” Y/N sighed and put down her notebook. She guessed her story could wait.

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Y/N was holding Harry’s hand under the table when Winton and Emilia arrived at the restaurant. They were looking around with eyes bulging out of their heads, so Y/N guessed they had never been to a place like this before. The first time Harry had taken Y/N to a fancy restaurant, she had been so thrilled, yet so scared that she wouldn’t fit in, so she knew exactly how Winton and Emilia must be feeling now.

But they weren’t the only ones who were nervous about that dinner. Harry was shaking his leg rapidly under the table while talking in such a chill manner that no one could tell he was faking it. His acting skills could be so useful in this kind of situation, but even so, the dinner still felt very awkward.

One person would be talking while the others tried to act interested, and there would be silence in between separate topics during which everyone was just eating and avoiding eye contact. It took them almost an hour, but once they had grown more comfortable with each other’s presence, the conversation flowed more easily.

Harry and Emilia found a common ground as film topics were brought up, and Y/N was happy to find out Winton was a dedicated reader and understood her passion for books and writing.

Harry had never wasted an opportunity to praise his girlfriend, so he couldn’t shut up about what a great writer she was. It made her feel like she was with her dad at a family gathering, but to be honest, she didn’t mind at all.

In the middle of the dinner, Winton noticed the ring on Harry’s hand and he happily exclaimed, “is that my ring?”

“This one?” Harry smiled as he looked at it. “No, it just looks like yours. I lost your ring when I was a kid and Y/N gave this one to me for my last birthday.”

“Aww, you guys are the definition of true love,” Emilia said with both hands on her chest.

“Thank you,” Y/N said, giving her boyfriend a funny stare which made him scoff into his fist. In their talk last night before bed, they had both agreed that Emilia was weird, but since they and the people they hung out with weren’t exactly the definition of normal, Emilia’s personality had never really bothered them.

“I have one good news!” Emilia said as the waiters brought desserts to their table. “Isaac asked me to be the model for his next shoot, and I said yes! Isn’t it exciting?”

“Wow, congratulations, Emi,” Harry said as he exchanged looks with Y/N again.

Emilia laughed at their dumbfounded reaction. “I know what you two are thinking. Isaac and I are just friends. He’s just really nice to me.”

“Did he tell you where Harry was having his photoshoot the other day?”

The question froze Winton and Emilia to the spot. Y/N honestly didn’t expect that, she simply asked that question because she and Harry had assumed Isaac was the one who’d told them.

As Winton was about to answer, Emilia blurted out, “yes, how else would we know?”

Y/N breathed out a smile, letting go of Harry’s hand under the table to fold her arms on top of it. She wondered why Emilia appeared so apprehensive. Did she think she was about to be exposed? Did she have secrets to hide?

“It’s just Isaac had never blindsided Harry like that. You two must be very close,” Y/N said, not breaking eye contact with Emilia, who leaned back into her chair and smoothed out her dress.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Don’t be jealous.”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

Harry tapped Y/N on the arm but she shrugged him away, and Emilia pretended like she didn’t see her father’s warning glare.

“You used to model for Isaac, right?”

“That’s enough, Emilia,” Harry spoke as Winton heaved a sigh and picked up a fork to eat his dessert.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, it was a joke,” Emilia said as she touched Y/N’s hand on the table, but Y/N immediately pulled it away to hold Harry’s hand instead.

“It’s okay. Let’s just move on.”

Seeing the uneasy look on Emilia’s face, Y/N believed there was more to this girl than a bubbly personality and a tragic past. She must have had something to hide.

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“I don’t trust Emilia,” Y/N said as soon as she was alone in the car with Harry.

He drove away, keeping his eyes on the road and one hand on her thigh. “I agree, she was talking too much about her biscuits.”

“No, I’m serious!” She smacked his arm as he cackled. “Didn’t you see the way she reacted to me asking about Isaac? What was that all about?”

“I think she’s just odd, but she means no harm. Well, except for when she was rude to you, that was unacceptable!”

Y/N laughed slightly and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know. I think she might have manipulated Isaac into telling her where you were.”

“Or...Isaac did it because he wanted me to hear Winton’s side of the story. Isaac is all about justice and kindness and forgiveness.” Harry gave a shrug and stole a quick glance at his girlfriend. “You look so sexy when you’re acting like a detective, but don’t get stressed out about this, babe.”

“You’re right.” She exhaled, fanning herself. “You’re probably right. Now I’m being weird.”

He chuckled and squeezed her thigh. “Are you tired, kid? I cannot wait to get back and go to sleep!”

“Go to sleep?” She gasped. “What about me?”

A corner of his lips turned up as he stole another look at her. “What about you?”

“You haven’t fucked me in two days.” She raised two fingers, pouting like a child, making him laugh.

“Oh, no. I haven’t?”

His fake surprised reaction got her amused. She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “if you’re tired, you can go to sleep. I promise I won’t be too loud.”

“Stop it! You’re gonna make me crash my car!”

As he started squirming in his seat to fix the bulge in his pants, she was shaking with laughter.

“You think this is funny?” He smirked. “Just wait until we get home.”

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“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Bambi,” Harry asserted. “You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to.”

“I want to!” Y/N said a bit too loud and the older boy shushed her as they kept tiptoeing up down the hall. Harry got down on his knees, so Y/N did the same and crawled behind him towards Gemma’s bedroom door. He sat on his heels, smiling devilishly while taking one last look at the envelope in his hand.

To: Gemma

From: Dad

“What if she gets angry and kills us?” Y/N whispered.

“Then we’ll die like heroes,” Harry told her, trying not to laugh at the way her breath quickened out of fear. Her face screwed up as she saw him kiss the fake letter before handing it to her and telling her to do the same.

“What’s it for?”

“Good luck.”

“Oh.” Her mouth formed a tiny circle. She quickly kissed it and gave it back to him.

Harry slipped the letter under his sister’s door and sat by it with his back against the wall. Y/N hurriedly rushed to his side and flopped down, hugging his arm tightly. Despite how worried she looked, the boy seemed enthusiastic. He covered his mouth and tittered into his palm.

“Oh man, she’s going to be--”

“I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”

The kids screamed when Gemma burst out of her room. She tackled Harry to the floor before he could run and started hitting him while he was kicking her back to defend himself. Y/N was bawling as she tried to pull Gemma away, but Gemma was too strong and Harry was helpless. Gemma’s fist hit Y/N’s head by accident and knocked her to the ground. Fortunately, Anne showed up just in time to break off the fight before it got worse. She held Gemma back so Harry could escape. The boy crawled towards his little friend and hugged her to his chest. Both of them were crying.

“Let me go! Let me kill him! I’m gonna kill you, you little jerk!”

“Gemma, calm down!” Anne held her daughter tighter. Gemma was kicking and screaming and Y/N could’ve sworn she had never seen someone so angry. For a second, she thought Gemma’s head was about to explode like one of those cartoon characters on the TV, but suddenly, she buried her face into her mother’s chest and started sobbing.

Y/N was in shock. Why was Gemma crying? Because of the drawing? It was just a stupid drawing. Y/N was trying to figure out the answer when Harry took her hand and pulled her with him. They hurriedly ran downstairs, leaving Gemma with Anne.

Anne returned to the living room fifteen minutes later to find Harry and Y/N sitting on the couch, holding hands but too scared to speak.

“Harry, go to your room. We need to talk.” Anne jerked her head towards the staircase, and Harry gave Y/N one last look before he stood up.

The little girl rose from the couch as she watched her older friend run upstairs. His mother turned back to her with a gentle smile and said, “you should go home, Y/N.”

“But...”

“Harry will be fine.”

Y/N’s lip shuddered as she clasped her hands together. “Please don’t ground him! If you do, please let him come to the treehouse.”

“Just go home, baby. I promise you Harry will be fine.” Anne smiled and touched the little girl’s cheek. “It’s Father’s Day. Why don’t you spend it with your dad?”

“It’s Father’s Day?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know?”

“No.” Y/N’s eyes shifted to the floor as she started fidgeting with her own fingers. “My dad is out of town, and...and we never celebrate it anyway.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Y/N quickly looked up. “Was that why Gemma was crying? Because she missed her dad?”

Anne didn’t answer that question. “Why don’t you wait for Harry in the treehouse?” she said. “He’ll be there after we’ve talked about what happened.”

Y/N thanked Anne before she left and went straight to the treehouse to wait for Harry. She was pacing back and forth and biting her nail, and as soon as she heard his footsteps at the entrance, she turned her head so fast it could’ve fallen out.

She rushed towards him and hugged him tightly. He wrapped his arms around her and chuckled. “You’re acting like I just went to war or something.”

“Are you grounded?”

“Yeah, but I’m still allowed to see you.”

Y/N put a hand on her chest and exhaled in relief as they sat down on the floor. Y/N wasn’t sure if she should bring it up or let it go, but she was curious to know how Harry felt about what had happened.

“Did you fake that letter because it was Father’s Day and you know Gemma was expecting it?”

The boy hung his head like a criminal in a courtroom, nodding slowly before he confessed, “yes.”

“Were you expecting a letter too?”

There was a pause.

“Yes.”

Y/N thought she should stop, but she couldn’t help it. She got on her knees and scooted closer to him, holding his hands on his lap. “What did your mother say to you? Was she angry?”

“No…” He breathed and looked up. “She was more disappointed...and sad…She made me apologise to Gemma.”

“So you two made up?”

“Not really. Gemma didn’t want to see me, but she’ll forgive me in a few days when she forgets. She always does.”

“What about her boyfriend?” Y/N asked, making Harry snort.

“I’ll come up with another plan for him.”

“Harry...”

“Just kidding, Bambi.” He pressed his lips into a smile and rubbed the red spot on her forehead where Gemma had accidentally hit her. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head and pushed his hand away, not wanting to let him change the subject. “You’ve never liked any of Gemma’s boyfriends though. Why is that?”

“Because they were all jerks.”

“Not true. The last boy was nice.”

As Harry couldn’t disagree, he rolled his eyes and admitted, “she doesn’t need a boyfriend, she’s happy with us.”

“She’ll have to get married at one point.”

“No, she doesn’t. Marriage sucks. It only hurts people. Look what it’s done to your parents and mine, and us.” Harry picked up a yellow leaf at his feet and stared at it for a long moment. “You know, my mum told me that...after my dad left she had never felt so lonely. She had to take on more responsibility and did all the things my dad used to do when he was still here. The house that used to be small for the four of us suddenly felt so big. You might think missing one person wouldn’t make a difference but it does, Bambi. You’re lucky your parents are still together.”

“And that my house is smaller than yours,” she said with a serious face and he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

“And that, too.”

Y/N took some time to gather her thoughts before she told him, “well, when I grow up, I will sell my stories and buy a small house so I won’t feel too small compared to it.”

“That’s nice, Bambi.” Harry beamed as he rubbed the red spot on her forehead gently. “What will you do with the rest of your money?”

“I’ll buy tickets to visit you once in a while,” she happily said. “You’re gonna be an actor, right? Actors travel a lot. You’re gonna have ten houses in ten different countries!”

“Well, if I’m so rich, I can just buy you tickets so you can visit me.”

“No, thanks, sir.” She pushed his hand away again, lifting her chin and crossing her arms. “I’m gonna make my own money because I’m gonna be an independent woman.”

“Of course, you are. I believe in you,” he said and tapped her nose. “Now, since I’m grounded and have nothing better to do, why don’t we read your new story?”

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Harry and Y/N arrived at his house in no time. He drove his car into the underground garage, so eager to take his girlfriend to bed and call it a day. They raced each other upstairs to the living room like two little kids, completely carefree and unaware of what was waiting for them, well, who was waiting for them.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks as he loosened his arms around Y/N’s waist, and she turned around, eyes wide with shock.

“Your assistant let me in,” Gemma said as she got up from the sofa.

“What...what are you doing here?” Harry faltered, he let go of Y/N and walked up to his sister who was standing with her arms crossed.

“Where were you?” Gemma asked.

“We went on a date,” Harry told her. Y/N couldn’t believe he lied. She was biting her nail while waiting for Gemma’s response.

“I was invited, you know.”

“What?” Harry froze. And so did Y/N.

“To the dinner.” Wait, what? “Some girl named Emilia Styles called me. Do you happen to know her?”

Y/N’s brain stuttered for a moment and every part of her went on pause, waiting for her thoughts to catch up. She could only see Harry’s back from where she stood, but he was standing so still as if he’d stopped breathing.

“I knew something was wrong when you didn’t text me back and I got the phone call,” Gemma said slowly. “I turned her down. Don’t worry, I was polite because I didn’t know the girl. But I know you. You’re my brother. And saying that I’m disappointed and angry would be an understatement.”

“Gem--”

“Don’t!” Gemma raised her voice, making Harry jump. He reached for her hand and she pushed him away. “God, you are so fucking obsessed with wanting him back you let him get into your head and you lied to me!”

“I was going to tell you, I just didn’t know how! But--but Winton is not who we thought he was.”

“I don’t fucking care, Harry!” she shouted, pointing her shaky finger to his face. ”I don’t give a fuck if he’s joined the military or become a priest or been saving lives in Africa! No matter how ‘good’ he’s become, he’s still dead to me!” She gnashed her teeth as her bottom lip trembled. “And right now, I can’t help but feel the same about you.”

“You don’t mean that,” Harry’s voice broke. Y/N was white as chalk and her eyes were as wide as they could stretch. She wanted to say something, but she knew if she spoke, it would only get worse.

Gemma raised her chin as she clenched her jaw and whispered, “yes, I do. You are becoming selfish just like him, it makes me sick.”

“Gemma!”

Harry chased his sister out of the door, leaving Y/N to drown in the gloomy silence of the mansion. She gave herself a moment to catch her breath before going to the backyard for some fresh air. There was an outdoor pool which was cleaned every two days, but Harry rarely used it as he was busy all the time.

She sat down on the edge, feet dangling in the blue water. The soothing coolness helped her relax until she heard his voice from behind, “don’t jump in without me.”

She pulled her legs up, about to stand up but Harry had already sat down next to her.

“How was it?” she asked as he rolled his pants and put his feet into the pool.

“She left before I could catch up.”

“I’m so sorry, babe.” Y/N wrapped an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arms. “Maybe you should give her a day or two to cool off and then apologise.”

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy.” He breathed while staring at the water. “It might have been like that when we were children, but it’s different now. We’re both adults. I knew there would be consequences, yet I couldn’t help it.”

Y/N sucked her lips into her mouth, her chest felt so heavy. She hated to see him sad and he had been through so much since the death of his stepfather. She was desperate to cheer him up, she would do anything.

“I think I’m ready.”

Harry turned to look at Y/N, his forehead creased as he was confused. “For what?”

“I’m ready to move in with you,” she said, but a smile turned into a frown as his reaction wasn’t anything like she’d expected. “What? Are you not happy?”

“I am.” He kissed her twice, holding her face. “But...are you?”

“Of course I am. I love you.”

But even after hearing those words, Harry still seemed unsure.

“Do you really want to or you just feel like you have to?”

Y/N was just about to say she wanted to, but her mouth froze as soon as it opened. Do you really want to, Y/N? she asked herself while looking around his enormous backyard.

“Hey, it’s all right.” He cupped her cheeks and turned her face back to him. She expected him to be mad, but he flashed her a toothy grin instead. “You know, when I saw you sitting here all alone, I realised how small you looked compared to all the space in this house. And I think I know the reason you were so reluctant to make that decision.”

“Harry--” She took his wrists, but he didn’t let go.

“Bambi,” he looked into her eyes and smiled, “I think you should keep your flat for now until we’re both ready for such commitment. At least you have your neighbours and won’t be so lonely when I’m away.”

“So it means…” she trailed off, biting her lip. “It means you don’t hate Blake anymore?”

The way Harry cringed at the name made Y/N giggle.

“I still hate that kid, and I still don’t trust him,” he said, his nose crinkled, “but I trust you, and I know you will put him in his place if he ever tries to cross the line.”

“Thank you.” Y/N wrapped both arms around his neck as he hugged her waist, burying his nose into her hair.

“Thank you for putting up with me, kid. As long as you stay, I wouldn’t care if everyone else left.”

“Don’t say shit like that.” She playfully hit his back but didn’t let him go. “I’m gonna have a serious talk with your crazy half-sister tomorrow. She’s crossed the line this time.”

Harry pulled away, eyebrows drew together. “Do you think Isaac gave her Gemma’s number?”

“Probably. For all we know, he could be brainwashed,” she said, making him laugh.

“Well, let’s not make an assumption too soon.”

“Agreed.” Y/N nodded once and dramatically puffed out her chest as she cleared her throat. “I promise you we’ll get to the bottom of this and find out what secrets this young woman might be hiding!”

“Holy shit, you’re so hot when you talk like Sherlock Holmes!”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile as she poked the dimple on his cheek. “And you’re so lucky to have me.”

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 10: Only Us

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Be My Only)

…in which Harry’s in Paris but his heart’s in Holmes Chapel.

Word count: 6.8k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Chapter 9: On-screen Lovers - Harry struggles with acting for the first time in his life.

Wattpad link

A/N: Sorry for clowning you with the angst in the previous chapter, this one is very FUN.

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Y/N couldn't recall how many times she'd driven down this same road. Every journey back home or to London was tied to a different emotion and memory. The last time she'd headed home alone, she had been worried. She'd worried about the damage of the storm, about her house, about her father and Marcy, and about the last place that she and Harry had called "ours", which, sadly, had failed to survive. Then came the last time she'd left home alone, she had been sad. Even the upbeat songs on the radio couldn't drown out the stressful thoughts about him, about their unexpected reunion by the treehouse, about how she might never get to see him again.

This time, however, as she came home for her best friends' wedding, she felt nothing but joy. She listened to music for half of the drive and enjoyed the silence of her own company for the other half. Would this last? Would she still feel joy when she returned to London? She wouldn't know for sure, but she wouldn't let doubt stop her from enjoying the present.

Despite how many times her father, Harry, and even Isaac had warned her about driving alone through the night in a car that broke down whenever it felt like it, she never listened. Here she was, leaving London when it was pitch dark just so she could make it home before dawn. Driving had always been her guilty pleasure even though she wasn't good at it. There was something so therapeutic about being behind the wheel that put her at ease, especially when it was dark outside and the roads were empty. She felt like a spy going on a mission, a thief fleeing in the night, or a loner exploring the world.

But when 'Don't Keep Driving' came on, she instantly thought of Harry. She wondered what he could be doing now. He must be in bed, resting for another long shooting day, or stressing out about their fight before she'd left London. It wasn't anything serious, just him telling her to wait until morning to go, and her doing the exact opposite which drove him mad. She hadn't replied to his fifteen text messages, but she would, when she arrived home. She would apologize and he would forgive her, because once he realized it wasn't as dangerous as he'd thought it would be, he wouldn't stress out about it so much if (when) she did it again one day.

She was reckless, some would say, but she wasn't crazy. She'd made sure to text her dad before she left London. His reaction had been the same as Harry's, but she'd ignored it and sent him another text when she arrived in Holmes Chapel. By the time she took a turn into her street, the sun had just come up. Her father hadn't replied to her second message, so she'd thought he was still sleeping. It came as a big surprise for her, that not only he was waiting for her in the driveway, but her two best friends were also there.

The girls almost tackled Y/N over with the tightest hug. "We've been waiting all night!" said Celine as she grabbed her face and showered it with kisses until she was shoved off. But Amala was quick to take her place, squeezing all the air out of the maid-of-honor.

"Are you guys getting married or am I?" Y/N joked. It was only when Bradford walked over that the girls let her go and stepped aside.

Almost lifting her feet off the ground with that strong grip, the man kissed her head a few times and asked her if she was tired. She said she was, and just as expected, his concern turned into a life lesson. She rolled her eyes and told him he was overprotective, but also made a promise to never do that again. Both of them knew it was just another one she would break unapologetically, sooner or later.

Her stepmother Marcy was visiting a friend this week, so it was going to be just her and her dad at home. Their relationship had improved tremendously since last year, but she wasn't comfortable sharing every detail of her life with him yet. He had been upset to have found out about her and Harry from Anne. Now that the girls were here, he didn't get a chance to have a proper conversation with her, but she knew he would bring up the topic as soon as they were alone. Anyway, she was ready to talk, whenever he was ready to listen.

Bradford knew about the problem with Y/N's car so while the girls were having breakfast in the kitchen, he headed to the garage to fix it. Y/N had offered to help, but he'd insisted on doing it alone, so she let him have his fun with her baby. Honestly, she was glad he was busy for now, because there were so many things she wanted to tell Celine and Amala but didn't want him to know, mainly just what was going on between her and Harry.

When it came to this topic, the girls held nothing back. The second they all sat down at the kitchen table, Y/N's love life became the topic for discussion. Questions about Harry were fired at her like fast-moving metal bullets and even though she'd braced herself for this informal interrogation, she was overwhelmed still.

"It's crazy, don't you think?" Celine trailed off as she put down the coffee cup and made sure the heart logo was facing outward. Unlike Y/N, she had always been one for perfection. "Ten years ago you stood in front of our class and talked about this boy you'd only known for a week like you'd known him your whole life. Now look at you, you're his girlfriend and you're in love. That's so crazy!"

"Not to mention that he's an actor," Amala said. "I have a good feeling about this."

"Well..." Y/N shrugged as she took a sip of milk from her favorite cup. "I guess going through so much shit in the last several years has really fucked me over. I don't remember what it was like to feel in control of my life and relationship. It's like I'm always waiting for something bad to happen to us again, because I know it will. Does that makes sense?"

"I guess." Celine nodded as she heaved a sigh. "You're here for a week, while your actor boyfriend is in Paris shooting this romantic movie with his ex-girlfriend, who's still in love with him. If I were you, I would be concerned too."

"Harry's in Paris with his ex-girlfriend?"

Taken aback, the girls turned their heads to the door and found Bradford standing there with his arms crossed. Y/N shot Celine a glare, and the tiny girl immediately covered her mouth with both hands though it was too late. Bradford was still waiting for an answer, so Y/N had no choice but to give him the truth.

"Yes. But they're only filming a movie. She's an actress."

"Do you want me to talk to him," he asked and rolled up his sleeves. "Give him a little warning?"

"Dad, please don't." Y/N's smile dropped while Celine and Amala were snickering into their palms. "I trust him, okay? Just...don't help."

"I know, darling. I was only kidding." Her father chuckled and walked over to the big cabinet in the corner to get his toolbox. "Only here for this," he said, waving the box in the air. "You ladies continue with the gossip." Then he walked out and Y/N buried her face into her hands, breathing harshly.

Amala leaned in, arms crossed on the table. "Wait, your dad doesn't know about Ruby?"

"Yeah." The answer was followed by a forceful nod. "He hasn't said much about Harry and me but he seems very skeptical about our relationship."

Celine smacked her hand on the desk when she recalled something. "I think I haven't told you this, but when he found out about you and Harry, he called me first and asked me so many questions. I think he might've assumed you'd been cheating on Isaac."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That Isaac and you broke up because both of you realized you weren't compatible, and only after the breakup did Harry try to win back your trust and ask you out."

Y/N put a hand on her chest and sighed in relief. "That's my best friend. Thank you."

"You're welcome, my love," said Celine as she pressed her lips into a smile.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N went on, "my dad doesn't even know the reason we called it quit last year. He only knew it was something Harry had done or said, I mean, anyone could've guessed that. If he knew about Ruby, he would totally freak out about Harry doing another movie with her."

"Understood. No more talks about Ruby around Bradford," Amala said as she and Celine both nodded their heads at once. With a shrug, she added, "but you should be glad that at least he's not completely against you seeing H. Remember how he felt about you and Blake?"

Y/N rolled her eyes at the reminder she didn't really need. How could she forget? Her father met her first boyfriend for the first time when Blake came to pick her up for a school dance...on his motorcycle. Being an impressionable sixteen-year-old, Y/N had thought it was so cool to show up at the dance on a badass motorcycle. But her father had had a lot to say about it.

Y/N had got on Blake's motorcycle that night, and Bradford had been furious. Then he found out from another parent about Blake's reputation with the girls at school. And so there had been a loud argument, ending with Y/N in tears and screaming, "but I love him!", like one of those dramatic teens in movies. Her first relationship had been a mess. Maybe that was why Blake didn't show up at her mother's funeral. He knew her father wouldn't have wanted him there.

Bradford had hated Blake, but he had adored Isaac. Isaac had been the son-in-law of his dream. It wasn't surprising at all, Isaac just had that effect on people. He was a smooth talker, but his words came from his heart and his kindness was genuine. He was perfect. But her father didn't only love him because he was perfect, it was also because he was the opposite of Blake. Blake was the high school bad boy you would hate to love, Isaac was the Prince Charming that she would never deserve. Harry, on the other hand, was...complicated. He could be the bad boy and he could be the prince. She supposed that was why her father had had a hard time deciding how he should feel about her ending up with Harry. But having known Harry since he was a boy made it easier for Bradford to accept him no question asked. He didn't have to dig too much into Harry's past like what he'd done with his daughter's first boyfriend. He trusted Harry not to break her heart, intentionally.

"Speaking of Blake," Y/N began as she glanced up to look at the engaged couple. "He's not on the guest list right?"

"Nope, who knows where he is now? We were only friends with him because you were dating him," said Celine. "Isaac, on the other hand,..."

Y/N was baffled. "Wait a minute—"

"Oh, come on, you were still with him when we sent out the invitations!" Amala pointed a whole hand to Y/N, whose expression dulled for a split second.

"I completely forgot."

"That you had a whole ass boyfriend before Harry?"

Y/N playfully leered at the tiny girl for making that joke. "That the invitations had been sent out a long time ago," she said, smiling.

Amala tapped a finger on her lips as she glanced at the ceiling, thinking. "Maybe when Harry finds out Isaac might be with you at another wedding, he'll book a plane ticket and fly back to be your date."

"This movie is too important to him, he won't do that." Y/N scoffed and pulled out her phone.

As the girls switched the topic to their wedding menu and which family they were least excited to see at their wedding, Y/N retreated to her own world. Sitting with both feet on the chair, knees to her chest, she typed down a message to her boyfriend.

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⌲ Bambi: Sorry for making you worry. I'm having breakfast with the girls at home. I'm fine. :)

When that text came, Harry had just arrived on set and he was one of the earliest. Thanks to his reckless girlfriend, he'd stayed up all night worrying about her safety instead of getting the rest he needed for his first filming day in Paris.

The location today was the beautiful Pont de Bir-Hakeim, the famous double-decker bridge in Christopher Nolan's thriller Inception, which Y/N had made him watch countless times just so she could fangirl over Leonardo DiCaprio. When he told her he'd been compared to young Leo, she had burst out laughing and told him it was only in his dreams. So before going to his trailer, he'd made sure to snap a photo of the view and sent it to her, followed by a text saying:

⌲ Met Leo right where he filmed Inception.

Her replies came in a heartbeat:

⌲ Bambi: OMG!!!

⌲ Bambi: WHAT?!

⌲ Bambi: PIC OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!!!

Harry flumped into the couch in his trailer as he took a selfie and sent it. The caption:

⌲ Young Leo said hi.

⌲ Bambi: Who's this fool? Where's MY Leo?

⌲ Wow...

⌲ And the award for Most Supportive Girlfriend goes to...NOT YOU!

⌲ Bambi: Aww jk, my baby looks so good, I'm literally drooling.

⌲ Stop sexualizing me pls #respectHarry

⌲ Bambi: #showmeyourtitsHarry

Harry snorted and meant to type down a funny reply, but then the second assistant director showed up to tell him it was time to get into makeup. He asked her to give him a minute and texted his girlfriend that he must go now.

⌲ More pics of young Leo later! :)

⌲ Bambi: I'd prefer him sweaty and shirtless!

⌲ You're so gross!

He put his phone away but couldn't stop smiling. The second AD probably thought something was wrong with him, but she just minded her own business and told him to follow her to another trailer where he would get his hair and makeup done.

Ruby and the rest of the cast were already there when he arrived. His other co-stars were so happy to see him as they shouted "hello" and "good morning" when he walked past. Ruby, however, didn't even turn to look. She kept her eyes fixed on her own reflection in the mirror while her hairstylist was curling her hair. He planted himself into the chair beside her with his name on it and remained silent. Two could play this game, he thought to himself.

When the crew and the director were ready for the first scene of the day, Harry was called to set to run the lines before the camera rehearsal. The first few scenes were easy, most of which were just him walking around, and the dialogues didn't require a lot of energy. Everything was going well, so he felt much more confident when he got to his scene with Ruby. He entertained himself with the thought that she would enjoy this scene more than he would, because she got to yell at him, push him and even slap him for breaking her heart, which, he thought was something she'd wanted to do in real life a long time ago.

But that was only until they began shooting. All the pent-up frustrations had been poured into that one scene. The next thing they knew, she started cursing at him in French though it wasn't in the script. She was half French, half English, so it was hard to tell if this was her character's rage or her own. But no matter what the reason was, their French director loved it so she let them improvise.

Ruby stepped around him and stormed off so he could chase after her. They got to the middle of the bridge and he caught her arm, dragging her to a halt. When her hand cracked across his face, the whole crew went silent. Harry stumbled a step back, his eyes were wide with shock.

It had been an open-handed slap, as loud as a clap and stung his face. He realized she regretted that, but she had to stick to her character and arched an eyebrow at him, her bottom lip quivering. "Don't touch me like that or ever again!" she said and stormed off. Everyone just stood there in silence looking at the two of them until the director shouted "cut!" and walked over to ask if he was all right.

The slap was in the script. What had caught him off guard was the way she'd delivered it. Still, he said he was fine and turned around to see his worried co-star walking up to him.

"I'm so sorry! That was—"

"No, it's fine."

"You have a red welt on your cheek..." She pointed to his face and flashed him an apologetic grin.

Harry shrugged off the comment and asked, "was that Elia or Ruby?"

"A little bit of both," she admitted.

"Good." His reply surprised her. "At least you did a great job, otherwise I would've got slapped over and over again."

Ruby didn't make a sound as she crossed her arms and looked away, but the laugh was in her eyes, and in the way her face relaxed for the first time in days.

"I'm sorry," she spoke under her breath, now staring at his feet instead of his face, "for what I said to you...and...well, for slapping you too hard."

"Apology accepted." He snorted. "But thanks to your honest words. I actually took an acting class before coming here."

Her wondering eyes glanced back up to his face, but as soon as she saw his cheeky smirk, she nudged his shoulder and said, "go to hell."

And just like that, their friendship resumed. They had another talk during their lunch break to work out their problems. He knew it'd make no sense to force her to become friends with Y/N, knowing how hard it was for him to get close to Isaac again even though they'd been best friends for years. So he accepted her apology for what she'd said about his girlfriend, and made her promise to treat Y/N with respect from now on. That was good enough for him.

When they had finished their final scene of the day, it was almost midnight, and everyone was exhausted. Harry was packing up to go back to his hotel when Ruby stopped by his trailer to say goodbye to him.

"There's this really cool pub by the Seine and we might finish early tomorrow, so...do you wanna go?"

She seemed so hopeful when she asked. Still, he wasn't sure. Her agreeing to go back to being friends with him didn't mean her feelings for him had magically vanished, that was also true with Isaac and Y/N. It'd be a double standard if he agreed to go out with Ruby, even as friends, after getting mad at Isaac and Y/N for spending time alone at his birthday party.

"I'm sorry, Rubes. I don't think it's a good idea," he said, scratching the back of his head.

Ruby didn't seem too disappointed as she rolled her eyes. "It won't be just you and me, silly. The others are joining us too. Evangeline knows the owner of the pub, so maybe we'll get some free drinks." She was quick to catch on to his reluctance, so she insisted, "come on, we're in Paris! Why don't you just relax and have some fun? We've worked hard, we deserve this."

"Okay," he said after a moment. "If the others go, I'll go."

"Great! See you tomorrow then!" With that, she ambled away.

On the car ride back to the hotel, Harry sent Y/N the photos he'd taken on set today, knowing how much she loved Paris though she'd never been here. But he also remembered to mention his plan for tomorrow night. He knew it'd be an insult to the city of love if he spent his free time in his hotel room, but his conscience kept telling him that, him partying with the woman he used to love while his girlfriend was at home not knowing what he was doing, didn't sound very moral, even when he was more than sure that he would never do something to disrespect or hurt his Bambi.

He saw the word 'read' under his latest text and typed down another one right away:

⌲ I won't go if you don't want me to.

Sent. With a smiley emoji.

Bambi is typing...

⌲ Bambi: That's silly, H. Go. Have fun, you're in Paris.

⌲ You sure?

Bambi is typing...

⌲ Bambi: There will be other people, right?

⌲ Yup.

⌲ Bambi: Then I'm sure :)

He heaved a sigh as his dimples appeared.

⌲ Miss you :)

⌲ Bambi: Miss you, too. Can't wait to see your face and hear your voice.

⌲ Neither can I.

He sent a pink heart emoji and leaned forward to ask the friendly French driver to drive faster.

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Once Y/N had finished her night routine and crawled into bed, Harry texted her that he'd just got out of the shower, and she got on her laptop to call him right away.

They spent the next hour talking about his first filming day in Paris and her first day back to their hometown. She didn't have many interesting stories to tell, so it was mostly just him rambling on about the beautiful weather and landscapes and the stuff that made him miss her. He also told her about some funny things that had happened during his scenes, but the name Ruby had not been mentioned at least once.

Y/N doubted that he genuinely didn't care about Ruby enough to talk about her, so maybe he was afraid to hurt Y/N's feelings by bringing up his ex. But honestly, Y/N didn't see that woman as a threat anymore. The more she knew about Ruby, the less she was intimidated by her. She only felt sorry for her. For someone who had everything from beauty to money to fame, she was too bitter, mean and insecure. So Y/N decided to be the bigger person and forgave Ruby, even when forgiveness wasn't something that woman would ask for.

"So I went shopping today and—"

"Harry," she stressed out his name as if to warn him not to say what she believed he would say.

"What?"

"How much?" She squinted her eyes at him.

"How much what? You don't even know what it is." He smirked. But she knew him too well to buy his pretentious innocence.

"I know that it's something more expensive than I could ever afford and I cannot take it as a gift from you."

"It's not expensive, I swear."

"Oh yeah?" She snorted, crossing her arms. "Show me the receipt then."

He couldn't. So he had to confess. "Fine, it's expensive."

She puckered up her lips and glowered at him.

"But why's it so important how much it costs? I love you and I want to spoil you sometimes."

"This may sound corny but...your love is enough. I don't need your gifts," she explained. Her cheekbones lifted high when he stuck out his bottom lip and furrowed his brows. "Besides, there are people who think I'm using you for money, let's not prove them right."

"Who thinks you're using me for my money?" Harry was taken aback as anger transformed his face. "Is there something you haven't told me?"

"No." She forced a smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Just...you know, those who have seen the photo? They don't know it's me but...you know, if they did, they would assume that I'm taking advantage of you."

She didn't expect him to believe the reason she'd obviously just come up with a second ago, but he didn't ask any further questions and changed the subject back to their previous debate. "Can I at least take you shopping sometimes? You can handpick a gift with a reasonable price."

"Okay." She nodded merrily. "That's my boy."

"I am, yeah. I'm your boy." He beamed, all teeth showing, and she couldn't help but clutch her heart and giggle at how adorable he was. Who would've been able to tell this man was four years older than her? He was just a little boy.

As she moved her laptop so she could lie on her stomach, Harry's face brightened up at once. "Hey, stalker, that's me!" he marveled, pointing to the movie poster on her wall. Her head snapped back, and she quickly covered the webcam with one hand.

"Hey, let me see my handsome face!"

Y/N ignored him and readjusted the screen before removing her hands. The grimace on his face when he couldn't see himself anymore made her snicker.

"I'm going to burn that one tomorrow," she joked, though it wasn't the first time she'd said so. She'd been so eager to buy that poster when his first movie came out, and every time she had cried over him, she had sworn to destroy it. Many years later, ironically, it was still on her wall.

"How many posters of me do you have in total?" he teased. "Want me to sign some for ya?"

"Shut up!"

"You have my face on your wall, woman! You don't get to tell me to shut up!"

She flipped him off as he was cackling so hard he almost dropped his phone in his face.

"Are you in your hotel room?" she asked once their laughter had died down, and the way he smirked let her know exactly what was on his mind.

"I am." His voice was deliciously low. "Just so you know, I'm also naked."

"Wow, thanks for the information." She gave a smirk and drew her lower lip between her teeth. "Show me your titties then."

Harry gladly complied with the request as he extended his arm and tilted his phone to give her a good view of what she'd asked for.

"Okay, now show me the rest," she demanded, but then he moved the camera back to his face.

"Nuh-uh. I showed you mine, now you show me yours."

"That's not a fair deal, Harry."

"It's already unfair since I'm naked and you're not." He gave her his signature boyish grin, knowing she could never say no to that.

"Fine."

Y/N batted her lashes as she got up on her knees, angled the camera and fisted the hem of her oversized t-shirt. She slowly dragged her shirt up, revealing an inch or two of her white panties while holding his gaze. The green in his eyes turned dark as he wetted his lip and placed his other arm behind his head, panting with anticipation.

'Poor Connection' popped up right before she reached her breasts, leaving her poker-faced in front of the blackened screen. Frantic, she tried disconnecting and reconnecting to her wifi but it wasn't working, so she sat back and scowled at the laptop, "you're a fucking millionaire, at least pick a hotel with strong wifi, dumbass."

"Y/N!" her dad's voice on the other side of the door caught her by surprise. "I need to ask you something about Instagram."

"Wait," she gasped. "You have an Instagram account?!"

"Just...stop judging and help your old man, please."

Smirking, Y/N got up and came to unlock the door. Bradford was waiting outside in his PJs, his eyes glinted when she appeared.

"Marcy told me to like her photos," he said and handed the phone to his daughter. "Here, teach me how this works."

The determination in his eyes amused her, but she didn't make a remark on it and signaled for him to pay attention. "So first you need to follow Marcy. Here, you type her username into this search bar. This is her account, see? Now you—"

"Bambi, I'm back! Where are you?"

Bradford's eyes widened in shock. "Is that Harry's voice?"

"Yeah, give me a sec!"

Y/N rushed back to her bed. The laptop was facing away from the door, so Harry was oblivious to her dad's presence. He plastered a beam on his face when he saw her and said spontaneously, "I think they've fixed the connection, now I can see your tits in HD."

Y/N nearly choked. Her eyes popped out as they shifted back to her father, who was standing at the door with his mouth hung open.

Harry knew something was wrong when he saw her reaction, but he couldn't figure it out until Bradford's casual "hello, Harry" froze him to the spot. Fear overtook his face as he mouthed "is that your dad?" to his girlfriend and almost passed out when she confirmed with a nod.

"Fuck," he muttered before speaking up, "good evening, sir..."

"Good evening to you, too."

Y/N was trying her best not to guffaw at the awkward tension. Meanwhile, her boyfriend was lying on his back with an arm over his eyes, as if not looking would save him from this comical embarrassment.

"I'll leave you two alone," Bradford uttered, eyes on the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck and stalked out of the room.

As soon as he shut the door, Y/N roared with laughter while hugging her stomach and nearly falling off the bed. Soon Harry was also in hysterics and had to beg her to stop because his stomach hurt.

"He's going to whoop my ass the next time he sees me, right?" he asked, trying to calm down.

"Don't worry. He knows we've had sex."

"That doesn't make it okay for me to mention your tits in front of him!" His eyes grew wide with panic but a grin tugged at his lips, anyway.

Y/N leaned back against the headboard, her eyes bored into him for a moment before she spoke, "don't be mad at me when I tell you this."

"Okay?" His face was already taut with worry.

"Isaac might be at the wedding."

"Wha—" Harry sat straight up, his jaw went slack. "What? Why?"

"The girls sent out the invitation when I was still with him." Her face relaxed with a beam while his expression closed up and his lips drew back in a snarl. He was upset, she could tell, and the fact that he couldn't do anything about it xx angered him twice as much.

"Don't tell me your first boyfriend might be there too."

"Nope, he won't."

"What's his name again?"

"Blake."

"Ugh." Harry winced in disgust and repeated the name in a mocking tone that got Y/N cackling.

That was when her dad knocked on her bedroom door again. "Hey, darling, I think I accidentally posted something!"

"One second!"

She rolled her eyes before turning back to a perplexed Harry. "Gotta go. My dad needs help with his Instagram account."

"He has an Instagram account?" he gasped. "And he's asking you of all people to help him?!"

"You're such a dick." She giggled. "Call you later?"

"How about tomorrow?" he said, stretching his arms and yawning. "Thanks to you, I didn't get any sleep last night. I'm drained."

"Okay, goodnight, baby. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, love you!"

"Love you more!" She puckered up her lips and blew a kiss to the screen so he could catch it and press it to his heart. Waving goodbye, she ended the call.

Her father was patiently waiting outside. And when she opened the door, he threw on the biggest grin that made him look even shyer. "We don't have to talk about it," he said.

Y/N knew exactly what he was talking about, so she thanked him for that and told him to come in. Awkwardly, Bradford faltered to her desk and settled himself in her spinning chair while she took a seat on the edge of the bed, facing him. He asked if he'd interrupted her and Harry's talk, but she told him it was no big deal and Harry needed some rest, anyway.

"So what's the problem?"

"Here. How do I take this down?" he asked, showing her the Instagram story he'd posted by accident. It was just a blurry shot of the wall, so she'd guess that photo was also an accident, or he was just terrible at taking photos.

"Here, you tap on these three dots and delete. Done."

Bradford placed a hand on his chest and sighed in relief as he said, "I hate this app."

"So do I," she agreed. "But many people enjoy it."

"Hmm, I guess it could be fun to share your happy moments with the world, especially moments with your significant other."

Y/N grinned before she said, "cannot relate."

It was a wry joke. She did that all the time, turning the little inconveniences in her life into jokes so they couldn't bring her down. But sometimes, it backfired and only made her think more about the problem, just from a different perspective.

Bradford was quick to catch on to what she meant, so he turned off his phone, put it on the desk and began, "it's still crazy to think, the kid who used to come over so often that I sometimes thought he lived with us, is now famous and dating my daughter." He smacked his leg, chuckling lowly. "Oh man, so much has changed."

Y/N bit her lip as she nodded slowly. "You're right. It's crazy, isn't it?"

The silence that took over afterward made Y/N feel as cold as the night air that crept through her open window. She wrapped her arms around her torso and crossed her legs on the bed. The father and daughter were both lost in their own thoughts, but little did they know they were thinking about the same thing.

It was only until the voices inside her head became louder than the crickets singing outside her window that Y/N broke the silence with a question, "dad, do you like Harry?"

She glanced up as he did the same, flashing her a beam when their eyes met. "Of course I do," he said. "I've known him all his life. He's not perfect, nobody is, but I believe in that boy. He's a good person."

"B-but..." she faltered. "Do you think we're good for each other?"

"Does it matter what I think?"

His response left her speechless. It took her a moment to say her thought aloud, "you're my father, aren't you? Your opinion should matter."

With an inscrutable smile, he sucked in a breath and reached out to hold her hand on her knee. "Sweetheart, when it comes to love, the only opinion that matters is your own."

"But you told me Blake was bad for me."

"Yes, and I was wrong, wasn't I?"

She parted her lips, but no word got out, and so he went on, squeezing her hand, "Tam used to scold at me all the time. She didn't like the way I reacted to you hanging out with that boy. I should've listened to her. Your mother was always right when it came to you."

She snorted when he stroked her cheek and tucked a strand behind her ear. With a deep breath, he carried on, "I mean, I was trying to protect you. But I should've known, the only one who knew what was best for you and what made you happy, was you? You had made the right choice to ignore my criticism about the boy you loved. So why should it be different now? Because Harry is famous? Oh, my darling, money and fame, or anything else for that matter, don't get to decide if you two are good for each other. Only the two of you should have that power. It's a terrible world we live in, so when you find the right one, don't give that power to anything or anyone else."

It took Y/N a few seconds to let his words sink in. She gripped his hand more tightly and the corners of her lips turned up at last.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he told her and rose from the chair to kiss her forehead. "Goodnight, sweetheart. Don't stay up too late."

"Goodnight, dad."

"Oh!" Bradford looked back the second he reached the door. "How was Harry? Do you think I scared him?"

"I think he might've peed his pants."

Y/N's answer made him chortle.

"Good." He smiled before heading out. Not a moment too soon, he ducked his head back into the room, realizing that he'd forgotten something.

"I love you," he said. The way he cleared his throat afterward warmed her heart.

"I love you too," she cheerfully replied.

.

.

.

Harry's second day in Paris couldn't have gone by much faster. He had no idea why, but he believed time flew like a jet in this city. And it made absolutely no sense because the lifestyle here wasn't always in a rush like the one in London.

It could be the feeling of homesick that made him feel this way. His brain probably wanted to fast-forward two weeks, so he could fly back to England. Sadly, it was physically impossible to alter space and time, so he tried to live in the moment as best as he could.

They were filming another scene with Ruby and a supporting actress, after that everyone was good to go. Harry had finished a long time ago, but he had to wait for the director and his co-stars to get their jobs done so they could head to that pub together.

He'd sent Y/N some more photos, but she hadn't replied. Last night, she'd said she'd be spending an entire day with the girls, so it would've been weird if she had been on the phone with him the entire time. Fortunately, he had Niall to keep him busy while waiting.

Niall had texted him first to ask for his opinion about some new lyrics. Then the conversation was diverted from Niall's music to Isaac and Y/N. Harry felt almost pathetic to ask Niall if their other best friend still talked about Y/N once in a while. He knew he had no reason to be worried or jealous, but he couldn't help it. For him, jealousy and love would always go together. Thank God Y/N knew that and she still tolerated him.

⌲ Niall: Are you mad that he'll be her wedding date again? Lol

⌲ No.

That was a lie.

⌲ And he's not her wedding date. They just go to the same wedding.

Niall took too long to answer, so he sent another text:

⌲ Maybe I'll fly back to surprise her, who knows?

⌲ Niall: Aren't you filming for two weeks straight?

⌲ I'll figure something out.

⌲ Niall: Okay, but be careful while you're there. Don't do something stupid and hurt Y/N.

⌲ You don't trust me?

⌲ Niall: I don't trust your crazy ex. She's evil.

⌲ Rubes already apologized.

⌲ Niall: Why would she apologize to you after what she'd said about Y/N?

⌲ I can't make her go to Bambi's place and apologize to her in person.

⌲ Niall: She could go to Y/N's place to threaten her but couldn't go there to apologize?

⌲ Wtf? Are you serious?

Niall is typing...

⌲ NIALL!

Niall is typing...

⌲ Niall: Yeah...

⌲ Niall: Shit, Y/N made me promise not to tell you.

⌲ Just fucking tell me. What did she say to Y/N???

Niall is typing...

⌲ Niall: She offered money so Y/N would leave you. Y/N said no.

Harry almost didn't believe it, but then he remembered what Ruby had said about Y/N that night at his party. He hadn't seen that coming either, but it'd happened. No matter how much he thought he knew Ruby, he only knew what she wanted him to know.

He heard the director shout "cut!" and immediately rose from his chair. He hadn't read Niall's reply, but he was infuriated and he needed to confront Ruby right this instant.

"Hey!" Her face lit up when she saw him walk over, probably too elated that she'd finished her scene to notice the rage in his eyes. "Just give me a second to change and—"

Without waiting for her to finish, he took her forearm and dragged her to the corner of the room where no one could hear or see them. She shrugged him off, annoyed by how he'd manhandled her, but he was too mad to feel sorry about it.

"Did you go to Y/N's place?"

"What?"

He inhaled deeply and clenched his jaw as he spoke slowly yet impatiently, "did you go to my girlfriend's place and fucking threaten her?!"

The way her face went pale already confirmed it all. He wished it'd been a misunderstanding, but deep down, he'd known from the moment he read Niall's text that she was capable of something like that. It was pitiful that he was still hoping she was the woman he'd thought she was.

"What kind of person does that?! You're fucking insane—Fuck, I'm done with you!"

"Harry!" She dashed around him to stand between him and the exit door, tears had smudged her perfect makeup. Now she was just babbling on with nonsense. "Listen, I don't...I just...I just wanted to..."

"To make sure I could never be happy again?" He laughed wryly.

"No!"

"Because hurting me was all you've done since the day we met. Would it ever be enough? How much more do I have to lose for you to feel satisfied?!"

"H, please, I just—" She caught his arm, but he shoved her away and raised both hands, his eyes fell to the floor.

"Just...do me a favor and stay away from my girlfriend."

Without another look at her face, he stormed off. Her crocodile tears couldn't stop him this time.

[aivaehdaevis]

The More Things Change: Ch 9

The More Things Change

by Aivaeh

Disclaimer: Familiar characters, plot elements, and settings belong to L.J. Smith, Julie Plec, and the CW. The author of this work of fanfiction has made no money from it. Summary: I have no idea how it happened, but one morning I woke up in the world of The Vampire Diaries. Which, aside from the insanity of waking up inside a television show made real, might not be so bad—if I weren't stuck in the body of vampire magnet and doppelgänger herself, Elena Gilbert. Pairing(s): OFC x Damon, OFC x Stefan, OFC x Elijah, OFC x Klaus Rating: M Warning(s): Graphic descriptions of violence on par with the show itself. References to sex and drug use. Mind control and all the issues of consent that go along with it. Character death. Master List External Links: AO3 | FF.Net | Wattpad

Chapter Nine

I sat on smoothed concrete that had chilled my jeans and worked into my thighs. My arms were pulled back and locked behind me. Voices drifted from high above, muffled by a barrier overhead. The air was perfumed with melted wax and sandalwood incense. Soft light glowed behind my eyelids, tinting the darkness the slightest bit red. I breathed into a vast and hollow space filled by the stillness of controlled air. It was humid and cool around me, the sort that came from being cradled beneath the earth.

Plastic sweetness lingered on my tongue, like I’d drank juice from a melted bottle. My arms and legs were trapped together by something rough and wound in layers.

Where was I?

Only one way to know. That said, the last time I wasn’t sure and woke up, it didn’t leave the best impression. I’d rather keep my eyes shut and pretend it all away. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a realistic option.

Hoping for the best, I cracked my eyelids until I could peek through the blurred darkness of my lashes. All I saw was a floor, dark and grey, interrupted by a smear of white. All lit by the steady gleam of candlelight. Focusing, I realized the smear is a line, two ninety-degree angles joined in a curling point. Not drawn with precision, but by hand. Opening my eyes a little further, I saw the gritty residue chalk had left behind.

Flexing my wrists caused the bindings to rub and scratch at my skin. Rope? My legs, slightly bent at the knees and stretched off to the side, were tied together.

So much for the best.

Smacking my tongue against the roof of my mouth, I’d hoped to rid myself of the taste clinging to the back of my throat. Didn’t work. So I lifted my head just a little higher. The chalk lines went further out,  forming other angles and geometric patterns. There were symbols drawn in the spaces between lines. Tall, fat candles, the sort that cost a couple of dollars at super-centers were arrayed along the outer dimeter of a circle. The candleflames stayed relatively still. A few bowls released a serpentine tendril of incense-scented smoke that twisted and curled towards the ceiling before dissolving into the air.

Given this was Mystic Falls, sitting in the middle of a mysterious occult circle couldn’t be good.

Looking around, I saw a room of brick and concrete. No windows, only four walls of brick and mortar. Elsewhere stood exposed wooden pillars stretching up to floor joists. It was one of these two by four beams I was tied to. Some industrial sized shelves set along one wall held various boxes, all shut. Turning my head as far as I could off to the side revealed a staircase leading up to a soft glow.

I was in a basement.

Above me were voices drifting through the floor. The last thing I remembered was John grabbing me outside the Grill, but there wasn’t near enough noise for this to be the restaurant’s basement. John couldn’t have taken me far. Not unless he managed to sneak me to his car.

The fine hairs all over my arms and neck raise at the thought.

Do I stand up, try to find a way out of the ropes on my chest and arms? Do I stay sitting and pretend to be asleep?

Before I had time to consider, footsteps thumped across the floor overhead. I had to decide now. Given the elaborate set up, I didn’t think it’d matter if I was awake or asleep for them to do—whatever they intended. Better to try to find a way out, whether by escaping or talking.

Bending my legs under me, I pushed myself up. It was rough going as the rope tied around my chest, arms, and hands had little to no give. It took most of my strength, but I managed to worm my way up the post by the time feet stomped down creaking steps.

Angling my head to watch, I wasn’t surprised when John appeared.

The woman he led shocked the hell out of me, though. “Sheila?”

She never moved to help me. Instead, she followed John, coming to a stop right outside the circle and regarded me coolly. I’d never met Bonnie’s grandmother, but betrayal slammed into my heart like a sledgehammer, shattering most of my hope. She was supposed to be one of the good guys!

“You know me, then.” She held herself at a clinical distance as she studied me.

“It knows a lot.” John folded his arms, jacket creaking as his shoulders stretched the leather. “But not enough.”

Sheila nodded and moved across from me, where a point was formed inside the circle. On the ground was a mortar and pestle. Lowering a bag from her shoulder, Sheila took out several plastic tubs of Tupperware. Opening them released a breath of herbs. With a pinch, she added a bit of each into the mortar.

“Why can’t we just perform an exorcism?” John asked, eyeing Sheila’s supplies and the circle with suspicion.

“Because we need its name, which we don’t have.” Sheila paused to stare at me. “Unless you’d like to share it?”

They knew.

For a moment, the post holding me up was helpful, as my knees trembled. My breath seemed harder to catch as my stomach roiled. My mouth soured, but I couldn’t quite swallow.

“How’d you find out?” I managed to ask.

John’s answering look chastened me. “Where to start? You don’t know anything about Grayson and Miranda, do you?”

I flexed and twisted my hands hard enough to feel the rope scratch my skin. My sights darted around, seeking any way out. “All those stories. You were testing me.” I muttered.

“And you failed. Miserably, I might add.”

How’d he know to test me in the first place? “And you suspected me from a text?”

There. The twitch of a rueful frown.

“He suspected you because I told him to.”

I stiffened at the new voice coming from behind. A woman with a carefully measured, emotionless tone that sounded familiar. I tried to turn my head far enough to look behind me but couldn’t manage to see much beyond my side. “Who’s there?”

The click of heels allowed me to track her movement behind me until she stepped around my post.

At my first glance of long brown hair pulled back from a square face somewhat familiar to the one I saw in the mirror, it felt as if a hand of ice reached into my chest and grabbed my heart. “Isobel.”

Cruelty lurked in the gleam in Elena’s mother’s dark eyes. “Very good.” She regarded John. “It’s a shame it’s taken over her body. Its knowledge would’ve made quite the advantage.”

“It’s an abomination,” Sheila snapped. She was sitting on the ground, adding small purple blossoms to her bowl, but paused long enough to glare at Isobel. “It never should have been brought here.”

“You know I’m not from this—world?”

Sheila stared up at me. “You don’t know what’s happened to you, do you?”

A half-crazed laugh burst free. “I just woke up like this.”

Sheila sent a narrow-eyed glare off to a disinterested Isobel. “She forced a witch to perform a forbidden spell.” Isobel scoffed. Sheila went on. “To pull a spirit with knowledge of the future across dimensions.”

“You were supposed to be subservient to Elena,” Isobel added. “Not force her out of her body.”

“Your witch underestimated its strength,” Sheila said.

“I didn’t mean to force anyone out of anything,” I objected. Though I didn’t like the idea of being subservient, either. What? Had she intended to trap me as a voice in Elena’s head?

“The makeup of your spirit is slightly different from ours.” Sheila continued grinding her mixture together. “Apparently, your kind doesn’t share well with others.” She paused to add another blossom. “I’ll have to expel you to allow Elena a chance to get her body back.” She looked up towards the ceiling. “The comet should give me the strength to ensure you’re excised.”

Expel?

“Wait, please,” I searched their faces, looking for an ounce of compassion or hesitance. I found none. “What happens to me? Do I go home?”

“Bringing you here in the first place was a crime against nature. But even if you found a witch willing to break through the walls between realms, you’ve been outside of your body over three days. And a body needs a spirit to survive.” Sheila’s hands paused as she lifted her eyes to meet mine. “I’m sorry, but you’re dead by now.”

My stomach dropped as my heart froze. It was hard to breathe through the ice around my lungs, but I managed to murmur, “I’m dead?”

Shiela ground the pestal around the mortar’s inner wall. “You’ll enter the veil and exist alongside the other supernatural beings.”

“But I’m human.”

“Where you’re from,” Sheila agreed. “Here, you’re an extraterrestrial.”

An alien? I was a freaking alien?! I could’ve laughed.

Once I finished sobbing.

I kept my lips pressed tight together.

“Enough talk. Let’s get on with it,” Isobel demanded.

The pestle tinked against the edge of the mortar as Sheila tapped the rest of the powder back into the bowl. Taking a pinch of the mixture, she leaned forward and sprinkled some over one of the symbols drawn between the circle’s inner design.

Fire leapt up from the chalk line. Tied as I was to the post, I tried leaning back but could only arch my head. Fortunately, the fire didn’t spread beyond the symbol. It burned tall and bright for several seconds before settling into small blue flames.

Sheila repeated the process with each of the other symbols. I wriggled against my bindings despite the rough chafing of the rope cutting into my skin. I hoped Damon or Stefan would come racing down the stairs. Weren’t they always in time to save Elena?

Minutes passed and they never came. A bitter reminder that I wasn’t Elena.

The final symbol settled into its eerie blue glow, leaving the whole circle emanating a ghostly cerulean light. An odd sensation settled over me. Or, rather, lack of one as I grew disassociated from the world around me. My thoughts became crystal clear, though. It was only the body I was distanced from.

Even the words Sheila began chanting were nothing but indistinct murmurs coming from a great distance. The longer she murmured, the further into my own thoughts I fell. I became a passanger in the back of Elena’s head, staring at the world as if I were watching a movie playing across a great screen.

Darkness closed in. Dread tinged my thoughts, made them fast and scattered. The darker it grew, the more frantic and sharper each thought became.

And then all was black.

Awareness returned in gradual fits and starts. Not my senses of touch or smell, but I could see. As if I’d been dosed with local anesthetic, I could feel the pressure of standing on the floor, but nothing else of it. No sensation of hot or cold. Whether my feet in the shoes were pinched or lose.

I knew I was gone as I noticed Elena’s limp body hanging from the ropes securing her to the post. Another Elena stood just outside Sheila’s circle a few feet off to my side. She was far more animated, watching with big brown eyes, standing with her arms crossed beneath her chest, hair flowing freely down her upper arms and back. She wore the night clothes I’d woken up in that first morning, shorts and a blue camisole.

We stared at one another. After a moment, I looked down to take in my pale arms with the tendons and muscles standing out that I’d been expecting the whole time I’d been in Elena’s body. I was me again.

And dead.

Sheila was still chanting. The words were clearer and sounded like an invocation to nature and the spirits. Crossing my arms, I grabbed my biceps and waited for the other Elena to—I don’t know, disappear? Get sucked into her body?

Elena wasn’t content to stand and wait silently. She stepped over the distance between us, eyes big and open and sincere. “Hi.”

“Hey.” My voice. For all the hyper-awareness I had for the body limp in the circle and a certainty I was doomed, it was good to hear myself again. I held onto the fact I was me, even if I was consigned to waiting for the Other Side to be destroyed to… move on, I guess.

Elena stared at her body. “This has been a very weird week.”

A scoffing laugh escaped me. “Tell me about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

I started. “For what? I’m the body snatcher.”

“You didn’t mean for this to happen. You’re as much a victim as I am.” Elena’s eyes overflowed with earnestness. “I’m sorry you can’t go home.”

“Oh.” I swallowed against the sudden tightening of my throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re both the latest victims of my children.”

I stiffened at the appearance of another voice I knew.

Dressed in a green woolen dress better fit for medieval times, she stood before us, hands folded in front of her. The Original Witch observed me, curiosity lightening her brows. “Esther,” I breathed.

She studied us. “You know me.”

I swallowed and looked around. Were other villains going to pop out? “Yeah. Of you, at least.”

“Then you know my purpose.”

I gave a reluctant nod. “To destroy the original vampires you created.” My stare flicked to Elena. “What is she doing here?”

“She found me.” Elena frowned. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if Esther wasn’t there to help.”

“Elena,” I said quietly, gaze flitting back to the Original Witch before meeting Elena’s stare. “She’s—you can’t trust her.”

“Esther’s protected me,” Elena said. “She agreed to help me get my body back if I’d help her.”

My eyes rounded. “What?”

“Elena’s agreed to be my agent in the world of the living.” Esther wandered a few steps nearer. “Together, we will bring about the end of my children.”

“Elena,” I began, desperation making my voice higher, “that’s not just the death of the Mikaelsons. It’s the death of all vampires.”

“I know.” The corners of Elena’s eyes crinkled at the corners as they narrowed.

I stared. “What?”

“They’re monsters. Look what they did to Jeremy. To you. And all those innocent people.” Surety burned like fire in her eyes. “They can’t be allowed to hurt anyone.”

“Elena, not all of them are like Damon. And even Damon has good in him.” I motioned towards her. “You bring it out.”

She shook her head. “I’ve met enough of their victims. They’re evil.”

“What about Stefan,” I argued. “He hasn’t hurt anyone.”

“Not lately, but he wasn’t always in control of his baser nature. Esther’s shown me.”

Esther, standing serenely, treated Elena to a slight smile. My stomach flipped. “I’ll bet.”

“With your knowledge of what’s to come, we can end my children once and for all, and restore the balance.” Esther’s dress flowed over her legs as she stepped even closer.

She had to be kidding. “You want me to help wipe out a whole species?” I shook my head. “Sorry. I’m not into genocide.”

“This isn’t genocide,” Elena argued. “It’s—”

“Killing a whole group of people regardless of what the individual is like.”

“A whole group of monsters.”

“Some of them, sure,” I admitted before amending, “Okay, a lot of them. But not all. And some people out there are violent killers, too. Should we wipe out the human race while we’re at it?”

“They are an abomination against nature,” Esther insisted. “Surely you see that.”

“What even is this nature? They exist, don’t they? So they’re part of, you know,” I spread my arms, “nature. How they came to be is from you, right? And you existed in nature. Ipso facto.”

“Your logic is flawed.”

“Says the genocidal ghost-witch that wants to off her kids.” I looked to Elena. “Listen. I know they can be dangerous and violent, but you’re not supposed to be like this. You see the good in Stefan and Damon.” This was my fault. Or Isobel’s, I supposed. Either way, Elena shouldn’t hate vampires. Esther had poisoned her.

Damon’s killing spree probably hadn’t helped, either.

“I’m going to make sure they can’t hurt Jeremy, or anyone else, ever again,” Elena insisted. She swept around me, staring at her body.

“This is wrong. All of it’s wrong.” I glared at the witch. “You want to know what I know?”

“Yes,” Esther replied, an eager light entering her eyes.

I answered with a grim smile. “You fail. Every time you try, you’ll fail.”

Esther’s lips thinned. “I will have the doppelgänger. I would prefer your assistance as well, but it is not necessary.”

I ground my teeth together. I was trying to think of something to say when the basement grew—darker, somehow. The atmosphere around us changed, became heavier, every breath permeated with a sense of dread. I could almost taste the budding fear on the back of my tongue. “What are you doing?”

“It is not I.” Esther frowned at a wall. “You did not come alone through the realms. Something followed.” Her gaze slid to me. “It follows you still.”

Before I could ask what she meant, Sheila’s chanting grew in fervor. The source of the dreadful feelings was getting closer. I had to stop this.

Elena had managed to mess with lights. Maybe I could disrupt the circle.

I strode over and tried to kick at a candle. The flame flickered a bit, but my foot passed right through it. I gaped. How come I could stand on the floor and not interact with a candle?

“You will not be able to affect anything beyond the veil.” Esther came up beside me. “You’d require great powers of nature, which you do not have.”

Clenching my fists, I tried concentrating on the candle, pouring everything into staring at it until my eyes hurt from the strain. I kicked out again.

Nothing.

Esther joined Elena. “It is almost time.”

A dark figure appeared behind John. Pale hands took hold of either side of his neck. John’s eyes had just widened in alarm when his head twisted to the side with a crack. As he dropped to the floor, I saw his murderer. Damon, face transformed into his vampiric form, glared with blooded eyes over at Sheila. “What have you done, witch?”

Sheila stood her ground, tall and unafraid. She pointed to Elena’s lifeless body. “That was not Elena Gilbert. A spirit from a world beyond had possessed her body. I have excised it and am making sure the real Elena returns.”

Damon blinked, mouth parting to say something, when he was knocked to the ground.

Isobel was on top of him, hands around his neck, fangs bared as she hissed.

As Damon struggled, he suddenly narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?” he gasped before his hand shot out and took hold of her throat.

I watched, eyes wide from shock, as Damon squeezed Isobel’s neck until she let go of his and scrambled at his wrist. Grip holding strong, he flung her up and over, where she flew into the shelving at the back of the basement. I couldn’t see him stand, he was just up on his feet, glaring in Isobel’s direction. “I definitely know you,” he said, pointing.

Damon was about to stalk over when his eyes rolled back into his skull. He let out a shout. His hands went to his head, to cover his ears. He pressed down as if he were trying to keep out some piercing noise. Eyes squeezed shut tight enough that his nose crinkled, he sank to his knees and groaned.

Sheila stood beside the circle, eyes fixed on Damon.

Isobel was back up, and stalking across the room, heels clicking with every step. As she reached Damon, she drew her hand back.

Right where his heart would be.

I shouted for her to stop, but of course she didn’t hear. And she wouldn’t have listened even if she could.

Another hand appeared, gripping her arm. Forcing her around and back from Damon with an intense struggle was Stefan. Eyes narrowed and jaw flaring, he fought to match Isobel’s strength.

Damon, peering up at Sheila through a pained squint, struggled to crawl towards the circle. Whatever Sheila was doing must have redoubled. Damon cried out again, collapsing to his side and curling in on himself.

Stefan was faring no better. Despite her youth compared to him, Isobel was gaining the upper hand. Teeth grit, Stefan strived to force Isobel closer to the staircase.

With Sheila’s magic occupied keeping Damon down, Esther hastened to her side. Lifting her arms and resuming the chant, the flames on the candles suddenly surged upwards. They burned so high and hot, the wax began to bubble as it ran over and down the sides in thick rivulets.

Elena stepped carefully over the circle, seeking to get closer to her body. When she was close enough to reach out and touch her arm, I did the only thing I could think of and ran at Elena. She felt solid as my shoulder slammed into her. Both of us smacked against the concrete floor hard enough to rattle bones, or whatever served as bones on this side, but there was no pain.

Elena tried forcing my head away with her hands shoving against my chin. All I felt was the same distant pressure. I kept one hand on her shoulder, my forearm pressing down against her throat as I sat on her waist to keep her down.

Strong hands gripped my shoulders, wrenching me off Elena.

John had his arms around my waist, yanking me away. Spinning from the circle, he flung me back towards the wall. I hit the ground hard, but only felt a sudden push against my shoulders and skull.

Peering up, I saw Stefan had managed to press Isobel up against the banister. Before he could do more, Isobel grabbed his collar and spun him around, pinning his back to the bottom steps.

John picked me up, slammed me against the wall. Now I was the one pinned with an arm across my throat. The pressure was irritating, but being unable to move worried me more. “Let go!”

“Not until Elena’s back in her body.” John’s eyes were cold as he glared down at me.

I fought against his hold, but he was too strong to force off. Elena was almost to her body. I tried to kick at John’s shins, but the lack of pain for me must have also been true for him. He didn’t even flinch.

Until his eyes widened, so round I could see the whites all the way around his irises. He shouted in fright, dropping me as he backpaddled away.

Behind me, something growled from the wall.

I didn’t look. I ran. Straight for Elena, I grabbed her arm before she could make contact and the two of us tumbled back to the ground. Back near the place I’d been standing, John screamed.

Terrified, I turned my head away from the sound and saw Isobel had a hand over Stefan’s chest. She tried to force her fingers through his ribs. Stefan, teeth still clenched, let out a strangled groan as her nails pierced his skin. He let go of her wrist and reached out to the banister, taking hold of one of the balusters. It broke off with a crack of splitting wood.

Isobel only realized what he’d done when he drove the makeshift stake through her side, straight into her heart.

Staring at him in shock, she dropped to the side, skin turning ashen as veins climbed her neck and face. Stefan shoved her the rest of the way off.

And was then behind Sheila.

“Don’t!” Damon tried calling through a throat tight with pain, strangling his voice.

But Stefan already had both hands around Sheila’s head. Bonnie’s grandmother had an instant of awareness as her eyes widened, and then the crack of snapping bones thundered across the basement.

“No!” Elena cried, hands flying up to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears.

Esther frowned. “We must go,” she said, taking Elena’s arm.

“No!” Elena threw off Esther’s grip, but Esther took hold of her again.

Elena’s eyes met mine, glistening with tears and burning with a terrible anger. And then they were gone.

John’s screams were growing weaker. Terrified that I’d be next, I didn’t hesitate to lunge for Elena’s body.

Pain. Glorious pain, pulsing up from my wrists where the rope had burned my skin. I sucked down a breath, tasted wax and sandalwood and earth. Lifting my head, I found Damon bearing down on Stefan, a terrible fury contorting his features.

“What the hell did you do!” he demanded.

Pale and mesmerized, Stefan stared at Sheila’s body. He swallowed. “What I had to.”

“Stefan,” Damon drew out the name, as an adult would when calling an unruly child. “We’re supposed to protect Emily’s line.”

Stefan’s eyes flashed. “What choice did I have, Damon? She was killing you. She’d done something to Elena,” he insisted, flinging a hand towards me.

“Uh, guys?” I grimaced. “Can someone get these ropes?”

Anger and frustration were overtaken by surprise as the brothers’ attention snapped to me. “Elena,” Stefan said, rushing past Sheila’s body and over the circle to my side.

Damon stayed where he was, eyes narrowed in contemplation. “Hold on, brother.”

Stefan, hands hovering over the ropes that bound me to the post, frowned. “What?”

Damon strode leisurely over Sheila’s crumpled form and between the circle’s lines. “Sheila said that this isn’t really Elena.”

A chill climbed my neck. “Damon,” I entreated.

“What was she talking about?” He insisted, frost-bright stare burning my eyes.

I shivered. Taking another breath, I admitted, “I’m not Elena Gilbert.”

Stefan’s hands jerked away, and he took a step back.

“But I’m the same person you’ve known these past few days.” My sights flew between them both, imploring them to listen. “I woke up in Elena’s body the morning I met both of you. I’ve been trapped in it ever since. Isobel,” I nodded to the dead vampire on the stairs, “said she had some witch summon me from another dimension.” Both brothers were skeptical, their brows furrowed in disbelief as their eyes narrowed. “I was supposed to share information about the future with Elena. But I guess my spirit or whatever was too strong. She was forced out and I got shoved in.”

“Well, that’s insane,” Damon said, tone droll.

“What are you?” Stefan asked. “Some kind of seer?”

“Not exactly.” I shifted despite the ropes binding me. “Sheila said I was, um, an alien?”

They stared.

“I mean, I guess if I’m from another dimension, then technically I’m not from this planet. Or universe. So, yeah.” I swallowed. “Alien.”

“An alien,” Stefan repeated, brows pinched together.

“Technically.”

“So, what? You’re really some little green man?” Damon demanded, incredulous.

I frowned. “No. I’m pale with dark brown hair. My eyes are amber.” I thought they were my best feature. “I’m a human woman. Just—not from this world.” I shouldn’t have said anything about the alien thing.

Another shock of pain from my shoulders and wrists made me eager to get out of the basement. “Look. Can one of you untie me? I’ll explain everything I know back at your place if you want. And you can decide what you want to do with me.”

Stefan shook his head. “We’re not going to hurt you, Ele—” he paused, squinting. “What’s your name?”

“Sheila said she could perform a standard exorcism if she knew my name. No crazy circle or comet needed.” I frowned. “I’m… thinking it’s better not to say.” I wrested my hands again, wincing at the pinch. “But I’ll tell you everything else if you’ll get me out of here.”

The brothers exchanged another look. Damon gave a short, curt nod and Stefan reached out again.

He had the ropes ripped apart with a single tug.

I almost collapsed, but Damon caught my shoulders. Stefan bent down and tore apart the ropes around my legs.

My shoulders burned as I struggled to let my arms fall into a more natural position. Studying my wrists, I saw they were raw and red where the rope had chafed my skin. I breathed a sigh of relief before meeting the brothers’ gazes. “How’d you know I was here?”

“I was looking for you when Jeremy noticed the light was on in your—his—father’s old office,” Damon explained. “When I got close enough, I heard chanting.”

“And I was following Damon,” Stefan added.

I’d never been so grateful to have a pair of stalkers. I smiled. “Thanks for saving me.”

Stefan treated me to a gentle smile. Damon glanced aside and shrugged.

“You promised answers,” Damon said, sights fixed back on me.

I nodded and tiptoed across the lines and around the now smoking symbols. Damon and Stefan followed. Together, we started up the stairs. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw John’s body twitch.

I sped up, escaping the basement and Grayson’s office before John had a second shot at kidnapping me.